#is also why hes always in these fucking situations

[pagesfromthevoid]

I Think He Knows | j.t.

Joaquin Torres x Avenger!reader

There’s always a lingering question between them in these moments. Will they cross that line finally? Who’s going to be the one who does it? But neither of them ever do. Sometimes it’s an interruption, sometimes it’s one of them backing down. 

Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings: kidnapping, angst, pwp, Joaquin has a pacemaker (his heart literally had to be restarted in BNW, you cannot tell me he doesn’t??), SMUUUUUUT (p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering, cockwarming if you squint).

Author's Note: This came to me in a dream. I don't have much else to say. Also, I'm so sorry if the Spanish in this is...bad. I tried my best. Let me know how to improve it!! Reader's codename is Glimpse.

Talk to Me! | Coffee?

2024

“So…,”

She looks up from adjusting her gear, the roar of the plane’s engines almost drowning him out. 

“What’s it like, y’know, being an OG Avenger?” He asks, leaning against the hull of the plane.

Bucky makes a disgruntled sound beside her while she gives Joaquín a slow, crooked grin and a raised brow –the kind of look that says she’s already figured him out and isn’t sure if she’s impressed or just amused.

“Oh, it’s great,” she says, and the look Bucky gives her is one of warning as he stands up. Then she’s leaning forward some, and clasping her hands together in a snarky little clap. “Everyone I love is either dead or in hiding. My closest friend fucked off to the forties with his ex-girlfriend’s aunt. And, oh, the general public doesn’t particularly like me because I’m the only one in the public eye still, so I’m easy to blame.”

Joaquín stares at her for a moment, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Oh.”

“It’s great,” she repeats, giving him a painfully fake smile. “Love it.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t –,”

“Give me a ‘chute,” Bucky orders, interrupting the stammering of the officer. 

Joaquín shakes his head. “Oh, no. We’re too low for that –,”

But the soldier doesn’t let Joaquín finish his sentence before he’s tearing off his sleeve and throwing himself out of the plane. Joaquín looks horrified for a moment before he turns to her, frowning deeply.

“Do you…can you jump out of a plane without dying?”

“You wanna find out?” 

“I really don’t,” he practically begs. 

“Too late, flyboy.” And she’s grinning as she falls backwards out of the plane with a salute. 

Joaquín stares down as she falls, bracing for her impact, but it never comes. Actually, she’s nowhere to be seen as he pulls back into the plane and looks up with a hard exhale.

“Dios mío,” he breathes out. “I might be in love.”

2027

For the last week, Sam has been complaining about two things: the New Avengers and her absolute refusal to get involved in the issue. She insists it's because she’s not going to choose a side; she’s known both him and Bucky long enough to be friends with them both. He insists she’s a liar and just likes watching the two of them argue.

She doesn’t deny this.

However, she’s not really sure why Sam is so concerned with whether or not she chooses a side. She literally lives in D.C. and works with him and Joaquín on a regular basis. Less than six months ago, she helped stop Ross and Stern and prior to that, she ran missions with both him and Joaquín overseas.

To be fair, there’s a two part explanation for why she’s stuck around D.C. as long as she has. One, because prior to this New Avengers nonsense, she fully intended to join the team. However, the second reason is much more selfish –though, she’d argue that she deserves to be a little selfish after the hell that has been her life.

And that selfish reason comes down to Sam’s very attractive, very confident partner.

When they met three years ago, she didn’t think much of Joaquín Torres. A little jumpy, way too hyper –but he meant well. Even then, she thought he was cute. And he helped tremendously with the Flag Smasher situation –proved he wasn’t just some fanboy with a hero complex (though he might still be a fanboy, deep down). But as she continued to work with them after Sam officially took up the mantle of Captain America, Joaquín just kept growing on her. 

When she settled into her life in D.C., it was Joaquín that became her closest friend in the capital. He helped find her an apartment that wasn’t the worst, and had given her a list of the best places to eat around the area. Then insisted he take her whenever they got down time. He calls it Team Bonding.

She calls it Not Dating.

“What’s the plan for dinner today, Glimpse?” He asks as she pops into their base of operations. He’s not looking at her when she appears, though he never does anymore. The signature whoosh sound that follows her appearance gives her away, now that he’s trained to hear it. 

“I was thinking that ramen place in Petworth?” She suggests, plopping down on the couch and looking at her phone. “It’s the next on the list, but your list seems to keep getting longer.”

It’s a passive observation; the list he gave her when she first settled in had maybe thirty restaurants and they’d hit about half of them. However, every time she opens the Google sheet he made, somehow there’s always two or three more that weren’t there before. 

He turns around in his chair, leaning back as he looks her over. Feeling his eyes on her, she glances up from her phone with a soft smirk. 

“Gotta find ways for you to keep me around, cariño,” he grins. 

Her eyes are glued to her phone, though she’s not actually looking at anything. Every single time he says something affectionate or flirty in Spanish, her brain sort of short circuits. She took Spanish in high school, but it never really stuck. There’s a handful of phrases she knows, and she’s learned some from working with Joaquín –anything she’s learned from him is either flirty or inappropriate, however. 

“Oh yes,” she chuckles in response, kicking her feet up on the couch. “Because I only keep you around for your food recs.”

“Food recs, good looks, witty banter…,”

“You’re just the whole package, aren’t you, Torres?” 

“Your words, not mine,” he points out, pushing himself out of his chair.

Sitting beside her, he lifts her legs to rest on his lap, one hand lingering just above her knee. They share a look –a knowing one, like they both are aware that they’re playing with fire. It’s always like this when they’re close; hyper aware of how it feels to touch one another in a way that’s nothing short of unprofessional. Sometimes it’s a hand on her knee when they’re seated together. Sometimes it’s her fingers brushing the nape of his neck when he’s at his computer. 

There’s always a lingering question between them in these moments. Will they cross that line finally? Who’s going to be the one who does it? But neither of them ever do. Sometimes it’s an interruption, sometimes it’s one of them backing down. 

But they never make it past the touching. 

“I feel like I’m interruptin’ something in here,” Sam announces as he walks into the room. 

Sam is aware of how she feels, and while he doesn’t necessarily tease her about it –he’s annoying about it. 

While she doesn’t jerk away from Joaquín, she does move her legs away from his touch. His fingers drag across the fabric of her jeans as she pulls away, like he refuses to give up that closeness. But she’s standing up and pocketing her phone. 

“We’re going to that ramen place,” she offers, and Joaquín is throwing his head back against the couch. “You in?”

“No go,” he responds, shaking his head. “We’ve got some intel we need to review –remember what happened last month?”

“Yeah, Bob,” she snickers, recalling the picture of the New Avengers in the papers. “Isn’t he just…a guy? I thought Bucky had that handled?”

“Not Bob,” Sam corrects, rolling his eyes. “Dude isn’t just a guy either. Not that point though –the other thing that happened last month.”

“Krane?” Joaquín asks, frowning deeply, standing now.

She groans, rubbing the hell of her palm into her eye. “Fucking Krane.” 

Dr. Lenora Krane –the reason she has powers and the reason Nick Fury brought her on board in 2015 after just barely being seventeen. While the New Avengers were off handling Bob, Valentina Allegra de Fontaine was bribing the Senate to pardon the doctor in order to put her to work for the U.S. government on a military base in California. However, that lasted as long as anyone could have predicted: last month, the reformed doctor went off the grid and no one has been able to find her since. 

Until today, apparently. 

Joaquín shifts into work mode with ease, sliding back into his chair and opening the files Sam has sent over. She sits on the arm of the chair, reading over the files as they pop up. Grainy photos and half-assed security feeds show her in Manhattan shortly after the Bob incident, but she seems to be making her way down to D.C. again. 

Even in bad photos, seeing the woman who made her life hell for most of her teen years makes the hero’s skin bristle. 

Taken from the children’s home she had grown up, under the guise of being a foster parent, Krane made it seem like her life was going to be great. But then the experiments started and only ended when Maria Hill infiltrated the lab she was kept in. Hill took her under her wing, kept her out of the system, then gave her a place amongst Earth’s mightiest heroes. 

The rest is history –though it seems like it might be repeating itself.

“What’s her deal?” Joaquín asks, looking up at her now as he leans back in his chair. “You think she’s here for you?”

His arm wraps around her from behind, linking his thumb through a belt loop since she’s using his arm rest as a seat. It’s comforting, though, whether he means for it to be or not.

If Sam notices, he doesn’t say anything. 

“I mean, I am the reason that she lost all her work and went to jail for nearly ten  years,” she points out, crossing her arms over her chest as she glances down at him. The look on Joaquín’s face is genuine concern, and it makes her heart ache. “She’s had a long time to plot her revenge against me.”

“Which means you are in danger,” Sam concludes, looking down at her with deep concern. “I’ve already talked to Barnes, you’re going to stay with him and his team of assholes. Differences or not, that Tower is the safest place –,”

“I am not going into hiding,” she counters, shooting up from the chair. Joaquín’s fingers are still caught in her belt loop and she yanks him out of his seat as she jumps up. “Joaquín –,”

“Sorry, shit,” he complains, letting her go finally and shaking out his hand. “She’s right though, Sam. We can’t just send her away, she’s an Avenger.”

“More importantly, I don’t want to uproot my shit and go hang out with Bucky. His team is weird. And Walker is there.”

“I thought you didn’t have a preference?” Sam argues, brow raised as he looks between her and Joaquín.

“You know damn well I’d rather be here than there,” she snaps back, pointing at him. “I am more than capable of handling myself, Sam. You know that.”

For a moment, there’s a tense silence in the room. There’s no reason to pick a real fight over this, but she doesn’t like being made to feel small when she’s been doing this since 2015; it’s not her first fight and it most certainly won’t be her last.

But finally, Sam nods in agreement. “You’re right. I can’t bench you –but I can at least make sure you’re not alone. One of us will stay with you.”

She’s about to argue that she doesn’t need a babysitter, but Joaquín is throwing his hand in the air. 

“I volunteer as tribute!”

Sam and her both look at him like he’s lost his damn mind. Joaquín has enough self-awareness to look sheepish as he drops his hand and clears his throat. Then he tries to shrug nonchalantly. 

“I mean –I can stay with her. Not a big deal.” 

Covering her face with her hand, she shakes her head. There’s definitely a blush burning her cheeks, and his excitement doesn’t help the feelings that simmer just below the surface.

“Smooth, kid,” Sam sighs, and she can just hear the eye roll in his voice. “I’ll get a notice sent back to New York –S.A.B.E.R. is working on pinpointing her next location. Until then, you two go grab whatever you need from Torres’s place. Joaquín, when you get to her apartment, set up security protocols.”

“Heard,” he replies, sitting back down to transfer whatever data he may need to his laptop. Sam has disappeared back into his office, already on the phone. Then he grins up at her. “I got you, hermosa.”

Without thinking about it, she lays her hand on his shoulder gently. Their eyes meet, and she squeezes. “I don’t doubt that, flyboy.” 

And she doesn’t. Not for a second. 

It’s her that interrupts the moment this time, though, pulling away with a wave of her hand. “Okay –I used my powers to get here, so we can do that or you can drive.”

“Oh fuck no,” he immediately says, pushing his chair away from his desk to gather his cables. “Last time you quantum jumped us, I threw up.”

“It’s not quantum jumping,” she reminds him, rolling her eyes. “It’s teleporting. And you only threw up because you weren’t ready.”

“Nope. I’m driving.”

“But I’m faster.”

For a second, he stands up and she thinks he’s going to counter her again. Instead, he hands her a rolled up set of cables, and she takes them without question. With a sudden yank though, he’s pulling her closer and resting his free hand on her hip. Her hand immediately hits his chest as a way to keep herself upright, but the sudden closeness makes her heart pound in her fingertips –or maybe that’s his heartbeat. 

“Faster isn’t always better,” he murmurs, leaning down into her space. 

She’s about to respond –something wildly inappropriate, probably, but she’s not 100% sure because all thoughts have scattered the moment he pulled her in –when Sam walks back through the doors. With that distinctive whoosh, she’s on the other side of the room, cables in hand and for once, a blush burning her cheeks. 

Joaquín is trying to hold back a smug grin. 

Sam is unimpressed by them both. 

-><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><-

“I always forget how tiny your place is,” Joaquín comments as he drops his bag on her coffee table. 

If she rolls her eyes any harder, she’s certain they’ll get stuck that way. Setting their dinner on the counter –burgers, which she’s bitter about because she really wanted ramen –she takes out their respective meals. 

“I’m gonna go change, feel free to get comfortable.” 

Joaquín is looking around her apartment as if he hasn’t been there before, though she can feel his eyes as she walks into her bedroom. When she comes back out  –an old band t-shirt and sleep shorts replacing her jeans and top –he’s looking over the photos she’s hung up on the wall. She grins and taps his shoulder as she passes by, returning to the kitchen to take out plates for them. 

When he seems to have gotten over his surprise, he’s behind her with a hand on her lower back. The touch is warm, and secure, and she doesn’t flinch away from it. With no real threat of interruptions –no one to walk in on them or alarms to go off –the only thing standing between them is…well, them.

“The couch is a pull out, so you should be relatively comfortable,” she explains, glancing up at him over her shoulder. 

He’s reaching over and stealing a fry, hand still pressed against her back. The whole thing feels a little more domestic than she’s used to, but she’s not going to be the one that pulls away this time. Not as she turns around, and his hand is pulled around to rest on her hip again. 

Joaquín looks down at her, eyes searching, but not in a way that demands answers. It’s quieter than that –curious, cautious, like he’s waiting to see if she’ll bolt. 

She doesn’t.

“Didn’t think you’d hover this much when you volunteered to babysit,” she teases, glancing at him as she grabs another fry, tone light but not pushing him away.

“If it’s not welcome, I can leave you be,” he replies, his voice low, steady. His hand is still on her hip though, anchoring her.

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t joke it off.

“It’s welcome,” she says instead.

He studies her for a beat longer, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. But his face breaks out into that boyish grin she thrives on seeing. “Okay,” he says, quieter now. “Good.”

But still, neither of them moves to close the space. The silence hums in the air, in the stillness, in the way his fingers stay at her hip like he doesn’t want to let go. Like he’s waiting for her to make the move.

She doesn’t know why he never does –not when he’s always the one who flirts first, who pushes the edge of that line just enough to make her wonder. And now, with nothing stopping them, it’s somehow harder. Closer. Sharper.

It’s him who pulls away this time, moving through her kitchen with ease as he opens her fridge and pulls out a beer. For a moment, she looks to whatever divine powers might be out there and silently wonders why the hell they keep dancing around this –and why the hell she can���t just man up and do it herself.

Nothing answers, of course.

“So what do you usually do when you’re home, all alone?” He asks as he takes what’s left of his food into the living room and drops onto the couch; he’d eaten half his burger on the way over. “Besides think about me, of course,” he adds for good measure, winking at her.

One more eye roll, then she’s joining him on the couch, sitting with her legs crossed under her. Her knee is brushing his thigh and he makes no move to get away. “Honestly, between watching trashy T.V. or reading trashy romance novels, I’m not the most exciting of people.”

Joaquín scoffs, shaking his head. “I don’t believe that for a second. An OG Avenger and you don’t do anything exciting outside of work?”

“Being an Avenger isn’t half as exciting as you think it is,” she reminds him, giving him a pointed look. “You learned that the hard way, remember?”

Even if he pretends it didn’t happen, she can’t. Not when she sat in the hospital with Sam for days, worried that Joaquín wouldn’t wake up. She’s had a lot of close calls in her life, and she’s lost a lot of people in the last ten years. Watching him plummet into the ocean from the security feed of his mask scared the living hell out of her, and that’s most certainly contributed to their dialed up flirting recently. 

She’s not afraid to admit she thought she almost lost him. Truth be told, she told him that in the hospital when he woke up. But then he told them both how he just wants to be like them –to be a hero, to do right by the world. How he wanted to get out of Miami and prove himself worthy –and she couldn’t scold him for being reckless. Couldn’t argue with him that she almost lost him. Because he knew that. He knew the risks he took, and it wasn’t her place to remind him.

“Yeah, yeah.” He brushes it off. Always does. “When Krane is handled, I’m gonna take you out and show you how to use your down time.”

She raises a brow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Is this you finally asking me out, Torres?”

For just a beat, maybe two, they stare at each other. She’s crossed the line, finally. Pushed them to confront each other; to act on whatever these feelings they both clearly have are. Their food is long forgotten on the coffee table, and his hand is resting on her bare knee. 

“What if I am?” He asks, leaning in closer. 

“If you are, I’d say it took you long enough.”

A grin breaks out over his face, and Joaquín doesn’t waste any time as he wraps a hand around the back of her neck and pulls her into a kiss. He’s pulling her into his lap, and she’s on her knees straddling him. Other hand sliding up her shirt, he groans as his fingers skim below her breasts, realizing she isn’t wearing a bra.

“No sabes cuánto he deseado esto…,” he whispers against her lips, and even though she’s not sure what he’s saying, it sends a shiver down her spine. Taking advantage of his mouth being open, she licks into it, deepening the kiss as her hands trail down to the hem of his shirt. 

Just as she manages to pull his shirt over his head, glass shatters. They yank back from one another, looking at the broken window. It’s a split second –panic, a flash bang rolling into her living room. Joaquín is covering her with his body, just as a whoosh surrounds them. She’s not positive where she’s sent them, but they land with a thud against gravel and roll off one another with a groan. 

From the rooftop of the neighboring apartment building, there’s what’s supposed to be a disorienting bang and a flash of light. Her apartment lights up, and she sits up on her knees as they both watch smoke pour out of the broken window. Joaquín kneels beside her, feeling on the brink of throwing up from the sudden teleportation. He reaches out to touch her shoulder though, making sure she’s okay. 

“Fucking Krane,” she hisses, standing up. He watches her from the corner of his eye before looking back at the apartment. The D.C. air is frigid, and police sirens are echoing in the night as they approach the apartment building. “We need to call Sam –,”

“Both our phones are in the apartment,” he interrupts, reaching out to take his shirt from her. There’s a heavy feeling in his chest; another screw up. Another mistake that could have been avoided, just like when he tried to take down that missile. Only this time, it’s not his life that’s in danger. It’s hers. “Mierda –this is my fault.”

“How is it your fault?” 

“I didn’t set up the security protocols.” He slips on his shirt, then reaches out to take her hand. There’s no hesitation when he does this; just takes her hand and pulls her close as he leads them across the roof of the building. “We need to get outta here. If Krane is nearby, then you’re in danger and I don’t have…anything.”

The realization sinks in that the wings are at base, but his computer –his government issued computer, with thousands of gigs of data and files on it –has been compromised. If Krane gets a hold of that, and he can’t wipe it before she gets into it, then it’s more than just her that’s in trouble.

“Fuck,” he groans, running a hand through his hair. “My laptop –,”

“I can get it,” she quickly reassures but he’s putting his hands up. “Joaquín, that’s my whole job –in and out –,”

“The apartment is compromised,” he counters, shaking his head. “I can’t let you go back in there.”

“In and out,” she argues and he’s caught between not wanting to screw something else up and keeping her safe. He knows she’s good; she’s an OG. She’s been doing this long before he came along. But if something happens to her…

Except, she’s not giving him a chance to argue. She never does, because he’s not usually the one arguing against her. But that sound –that whoosh that has trained his brain to listen for –echoes in the air. And then she’s gone. 

“Dammit,” he hisses, pounding his fist once against the wall. 

He waits, watching from the edge of the building. 

Seconds. That’s all it should take.

She’s done this a thousand times. Disappearing across rooftops, slipping into sealed rooms, snatching intel mid-conversation without a whisper. The police are surrounding her apartment complex, guns drawn. No one has come in or out of the building since she entered, which is…bad. 

So why isn’t she back?

He paces on the rooftop, trying to calm his breathing. One beat. Two. Five. He stares at the spot where she vanished, willing the air to whisper with that tell-tale signal again. His ears are still ringing from the flashbang thrown through the window barely five minutes ago, and it sets his teeth on edge. But…

Nothing.

“She should be back,” he mutters aloud, to no one. “Why aren’t you back?”

His pulse hammers in his ears. She always makes it back. She’s cocky about it. Makes jokes. Teases him that she’s always going to be faster, always going to be a step ahead. Because she is, and he knows she is. In the three years he’s known her, he’s not once thought he’d ever be better than her. Because he’s too amazed by her –how could he want to be better when everything she does is so graceful and damn near perfect? 

All he had to do was protect her, and somehow…he blew it.

Sam’s going to kill him.

-><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><-

The guilt has been a slow bleed. Every hour without a lead makes it worse. 

Joaquín hasn’t slept. Not really. A few hours here and there, usually when Sam physically pries him away from the screen or the chair or the growing pile of coffee cups that he’s surviving on. But even when he does sleep, he dreams of her –trapped, bleeding, calling for him. Every time, he wakes up choking on guilt.

She’s been missing for seventy-six hours. Seventy-six hours since she vanished inside that apartment. Since she dove into danger to retrieve his laptop –his responsibility –because he hadn’t done his damn job in the first place. He was too distracted. Too busy being in love with her to remember that she’s not invincible.

Joaquín drags a hand through his curls, fingers catching as he stares at the rows of code on his screen.

“Come on, come on…,” he mutters, cycling through yet another security node.

He’s torn apart every digital trail Krane has ever left –fake aliases, ghosted emails, the occasional off-the-grid bio signature from a black market medical clinic. None of it points to where she’s keeping her. But Joaquín isn’t just looking for Krane anymore.

He’s looking for her. For the woman who scared the hell out of him by jumping out of that plane three years ago. Who teases him about his stupid restaurant spreadsheet; who kisses him like she’s just as wrecked as he is. 

He almost had her. Finally. And now?

Now all he has is silence. And a red blinking cursor on a map overlay.

But then –,

Something pings.

It’s small. Barely a whisper in the code. But Joaquín freezes, eyes narrowing. He backtracks, isolates the data string, and enhances the feed. It’s a signal bounce –from his laptop. A handshake request that shouldn’t exist, buried beneath three layers of dummy networks. Krane must have booted it, just briefly. Just long enough to trigger the dormant emergency protocol he’d hardwired into the system during a long forgotten all-nighter.

He stares at the screen as coordinates materialize. They’re fuzzy. The GPS is spoofed, bouncing between old S.H.I.E.L.D. black sites, but there's a pattern to the chaos.

“She’s not hiding you,” he says under his breath, breath catching in his chest. “She’s parading you. Daring us to come.”

He should feel fear. Hesitation. He doesn’t.

He locks onto the most consistent coordinate. An abandoned logistics warehouse 40 miles outside Richmond. Nothing special. No heat signatures from satellites. But something about it hums wrong. Quiet in a way that feels intentional.

That’s where she is. He knows it. He feels it in his bones.

Sam’s voice breaks the moment. “Any progress?”

Joaquín turns slowly, eyes still lit by the screen. “Yeah. I think I found her.”

-><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><-

She’s strapped to a reinforced medical chair, wrists restrained in a way that numbs her fingers. Her powers are suppressed –some kind of electromagnetic field layered into the restraints, maybe nanotech. It doesn’t matter. The result is the same: she can’t phase. Can’t jump. Can’t fight.

It’s like trying to scream with no voice. Like being a kid again.

Krane stands over her, monologuing in that smug, academic cadence that always made her want to tear her own ears off. She’s pacing now, dragging her fingers along the edge of a steel tray holding tools that aren’t exactly designed for healing.

“…quantum stability, neural mapping, synaptic plasticity,” Krane is saying, like she’s checking off items on a list. “You’re a blueprint with legs, nothing more,” the scientist finally concludes, looking over the hero with the same sadistic smile she’s always had. “You think you’re going to save the world again. But you’re just a failed experiment clinging to a label.”

She doesn’t respond. Not because she’s too weak –though Krane’s been dosing her with something, and her limbs feel like sandbags –but because she’s saving her strength. Waiting. Waiting for the moment when the sedatives slip, when the field flickers, when Krane makes a mistake.

Because the doctor always does.

But if she’s being honest, that’s not the only reason she’s quiet. The real reason –the part that burns low in her chest, white-hot and ugly –is this: she let Krane take her.

She didn’t fight back. Not really.

She had a window. A second and a half, maybe two. Enough time to jump. Enough time to leave. But she didn’t. Because the second she started to move, Krane said Joaquín’s name. Said it so calmly, so casually, like she hadn’t been watching them through the drone in his laptop camera.

“You go for this computer and I send a kill switch to your flyboy’s pacemaker,” Krane said, having picked up the laptop. There’s a remote in her hand –small, round, blinking. “You know he has one now, right? After that nasty fall into the ocean? Poor thing –you know, we had to restart his heart.”

“We?” She asked, looking at the doctor in disbelief.

“You should have read the file carefully, Glimpse,” the doctor scolded. “I’m reformed, remember? And before you, I was a very decorated military doctor.”

It was bullshit. It had to be.  But she didn’t know for sure. 

And that split second of hesitation –of imagining Joaquín’s body hitting the floor because she called Krane’s bluff –was enough. Enough for Krane to sedate her. Enough for the world to blur. 

Enough to lose.

And now, here she is. Chained and doped up in some forgotten corner of Virginia, reliving the worst years of her life like it never ended. Except this time, she’s not a little girl. She’s not powerless. And she knows that there’s at least two people looking for her.

And she knows neither of them will stop until they find her.

Her eyes flick to the blinking red light on the wall. A low pulse, like a heartbeat. It wasn’t there five seconds ago. That light isn’t part of the baseline infrastructure. She knows this place. Knows how Krane likes her labs –clinical, sterile, and absolutely under her control. 

That flicker is out of place. 

That flicker means hope.

She doesn’t smile. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t give Krane the satisfaction of knowing something’s changed.

Across the room, Krane is talking again –some self-righteous, pseudo-academic garbage about neural mapping and genetic anomalies and “weaponized empathy.” Her voice cuts through the silence like a scalpel. Her eyes are wild now, hands moving faster, yanking wires from machines and double-checking restraints that don’t need checking. Because something’s wrong. She can feel it.

And Krane knows it, too.

She tracks the shift in Krane’s energy with careful, weary eyes. There’s a tremor in her hands now. That smug detachment has begun to crack.

Good. Let it crack.

The moment comes in a shudder of metal. A deep, violent boom rattles the concrete walls as the lab door explodes inward in a spray of steel and sparks. The force of it echoes through her chest, more felt than heard. For a second, the light above her sputters out –then returns, flickering.

The first figure through the smoke is Sam. Wings half-folded, shield in hand, eyes like fire. He moves with that signature precision: not so much charging as cleaving through the space, knocking aside a pair of armored guards with brutal efficiency. They hit the wall hard and don’t get back up.

Joaquín follows half a beat later, sliding through the debris like a storm wrapped in a man’s frame. He’s dropped the wings for speed and brute force, shoulder-checking the last guard so hard the man’s body crumples like foil. He doesn’t slow –his eyes are already locked on her.

For a moment, she’s not Glimpse, a former Avenger. She’s just the girl strapped to the chair, covered in bruises and half-drugged, barely upright –but seen. Found.

And Joaquín looks at her like she's the only thing in the damn world worth saving.

He’s at her side in seconds, hands already on the restraints, breath coming fast and shallow.

“Hey,” she says, voice dry, mouth cracking into the ghost of a smile. Like this is just an everyday thing for them.

“Hey,” he breathes, eyes scanning her face like he’s checking for fractures. She’s certain she looks worse for wear; if the bruises on her arms are any indication, she’s certain her face isn’t much better. 

“Jesus, I –,” but he doesn’t finish. Just rips the cuff open with a grunt, tosses it to the floor, and moves to the next.

Her fingers twitch back to life. Painful, sluggish –but working.

Behind them, Krane shrieks. She’s at the far end of the room now, fumbling for something –another syringe, or maybe that damned remote again. Sam crosses the space in two strides and kicks it out of her hand before grabbing her by the collar and slamming her into the wall with controlled force.

“You’re done,” he growls.

Krane gasps for air, blinking like she can’t process how quickly the tables have turned.

Joaquín finishes unfastening the last restraint, and her body sags forward –only for him to catch her, arms steady around her frame. She doesn’t collapse, though. She uses his grip to pull herself upright, standing on legs that shake but hold.

“I’ve got you,” he promises. 

“I know,” she answers, but she’s pulling back some. Steadying her stance. She doesn’t need a full recovery. She just needs a little bit of spite and one shot.

“I can walk,” she adds, looking up at him.

Joaquín looks like he wants to argue, but doesn’t. Just stays close, hand at her back as she half-limps, half-strides toward the scientist that Sam has pinned to the wall. Half crazed, clawing at Sam’s hands to release her –Krane looks certifiably unhinged. 

Finally, her outsides match her insides.

“You don’t understand! All my work –everything I’ve worked on –it’s her!” The scientist screams, bucking against Sam’s hold. “I can change the world with her!”

And then she hears it: the click of a syringe behind them. Krane kicks Sam away, more force behind the movement than he expected. Still sneering. Still trying. The doctor lunges, chemical cocktail in hand –some desperate move to keep control. The scientist is aiming for Joaquín, but she’s not half as fast as the Avenger. 

Even if the drugs are weighing her down, and every muscle in her body is screaming at her not to, she shifts her weight, ducks under Joaquin’s arm, and slams her fist into Krane’s jaw with everything she has.

It’s not graceful. Not elegant. It's not powered or calculated.

It’s just…personal.

Joaquín lets out a low whistle as she nearly drops to her knees, but he catches her immediately. With ease, he’s lifting her into his arms, and she’s pressing her forehead into the crook of his neck with a wrecked sigh. All the strength she had left was put into that punch, and with Krane down –she’s able to finally drop her guard and give into the exhaustion. 

Vaguely, she’s aware of Sam telling Joaquín to get her out of here. But her body is exhausted, and finally quits on her as Joaquín promises he’s going to get her out of there. 

-><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><-

Luckily, she’s only in the hospital two nights. One night to clear her system of whatever drugs Krane had given her, a hook up to an IV to get her body regulated again, and another night for observation. Outside of drawing a little more blood than she should have, Krane didn’t intend to kill the hero –she intended to use the hero as a blueprint for more. 

Her apartment is still out of commission –smoke damaged and a crime scene, naturally –so he takes her back to his place. Sam brings her some clothes, and Joaquín zips her into his hoodie, saying she’s going to stay with him until she’s 100% again. He waits for an argument from her, but it never comes; she just slips herself into the passenger seat of his car and tells him to drive slowly.

The first few days are easy enough; she spends most of them asleep in his room, tucked into his bed like she belongs there. He makes her get up to shower and eat, but otherwise he lets her chill and recover from everything. He tries to leave her be during the day, especially when she’s asleep, but sometimes he just lays in there with her. Letting her curl into his side as he watches whatever is on T.V., holding her through the recovery. Maybe they should have talked about what this is between them, but Joaquín thinks there’s no reason to anymore. 

By the end of the week, she’s up and moving. 

More than that, really. 

Joaquín stepped out to help Sam with the last few details with Krane. He’d been gone maybe an hour –two tops. Left her in bed, sitting up and scrolling through her phone with a kiss to her temple and a promise to get dinner when he got back.

So imagine his surprise when he walks into his apartment and she’s standing in his kitchen, wearing one of his T-shirts and nothing else, cooking dinner. There’s music playing, and she’s singing along as she scrolls through the instructions on her phone. Joaquín can’t help it as he stares, arms crossed over his chest. This is the most awake she’s been in days, and the thought that maybe he has even a little influence on that makes him smile.

Pushing off the doorframe, he slips in behind her and wraps his arms around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder. “Mírate...mi cielo,” he murmurs against her ear, grinning as he looks over the ingredients on the counter. “Need some help?”

She glances up at him, and the smile she gives him could knock him out if he really wanted it to. “I’m almost done –you can take the pan out of the oven though.”

He hums, debating. “If I do that, I gotta let you go. And I don’t think I wanna do that.”

“At least turn off the oven so it doesn’t burn,” she counters, but she’s reaching over to do it herself.

The motion is innocent enough –but combined with her bare legs and his shirt and her ass brushing against him as she does it…Joaquín’s grip on her waist tightens some, cock twitching in his jeans, before he turns her around and presses her against the nearest clean countertop. She raises a brow up at him, but there’s a smirk on her face as her arms wrap around his neck.

“I take it you’re not hungry,” she teases but she’s cut off as he lifts her onto the counter.

“Oh baby, I’m starving,” he reassures, hands sliding down her waist now to grip her thighs, parting them so he can stand between them; pressing the growing bulge in his jeans against her center. “But I’m gonna need to start with dessert.”

“What are the odds one of us gets kidnapped again?” She jokes, pulling him closer by the back of his neck.

“Let’em try to take you from me again,” he promises, fingers trailing up her bare thighs and over the front of her panties. 

He nearly groans at the wet spot he feels, toying with her carefully through the damp fabric. The sigh she lets out, coupled with how her head tilts back, encourages him to pull her closer to the edge of the counter and kneel down between her legs. Slipping them over his shoulders, he presses open mouth kisses on the inside of her thighs before finally kissing the fabric that’s slick.

Her hands find his hair almost instantly, and he grins against her as he pulls the ruined garment down her legs finally. With how much they’ve teased each other over the years, and how often he’s thought about this exact moment, he wants to take it slow. Wants to drown himself in between her legs. But now that he’s here, all thoughts escape him as he licks a stripe from top to bottom, groaning at the taste. Then it’s entirely useless to consider what he’s going to do next, because all he wants is to feel her cum on his face as he dives in entirely.

The fingers in his hair tug, and the gasps coming from her lips only push him further into her as he sucks on her clit. With two fingers, he spreads her wider, allowing both a better view and more room as his tongue laps up into her entirely, taking in every ounce of her that he can. 

“Fuck,” she breathes out, and her legs are shaking. “Joaquín, please –I need –,”

Mouth still on her, he looks up through his lashes at the mess she is. Then, he pulls away just enough for her hips to chase his mouth but his fingers are what she meets. She writhes under his touch, fingers tightening in his curls as he spreads his spit and her slick all over her.

“What d’you need?” He asks, teasing, barely touching her now as her hips buck off the counter. “Gotta use your words, cariño.”

“Touch me,” she begs, chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. “Please, I need you to –,”

“Like this?” 

His finger slides inside with ease, and the feeling of her clenching around just the one is enough to spur him on and he pulls her into a messy kiss. Her frantic yes, yes, yes’s are swallowed as he licks into her mouth, letting her taste herself on his tongue. Then, he slips another finger inside and she bites at his bottom lip, causing him to groan in response. Her grip on his hair tightens, hips moving against his hand, a silent plea to keep going. 

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” He murmurs into the kiss, breaking it only to trail wet kisses down her jaw and over her neck. She’s nodding frantically against him, eyes screwed shut as he picks up his speed and brushes her clit with his thumb. 

That seems to be her undoing as she cries out, clenching around his fingers tight as he feels her drip down his hand. He doesn’t pull away, but slows down his movements, easing her through the orgasm as her body shudders and falls limp against his chest. When she’s finally come down is when he finally slides his fingers from her sensitive core, causing her to shudder at the feeling.

“You good?” He asks softly but she’s dramatically falling back onto the countertop with a sigh. 

“I’m…much more than good,” she manages to say, leaning on her elbows to look up at him. 

Her eyes are trailing over him now –taking in the slick that he’s certain is on his face, down to his hand that’s still wet from her orgasm then to his dick that’s too hard to hide at this point. The gears are turning in her head; he can practically see them as she sits up and reaches for his belt. He’s about to stop her, tell her that she doesn’t need to return the favor, but then he’s swept up in a whoosh and they’re falling back into his bed.

“Fuck, I hate when you do that,” he complains, but there’s no bite in his tone as she reaches out for him. 

“You’ll get used to it,” she promises, tugging his shirt off over his head. 

Joaquín doesn’t hesitate to toss it to the side, fumbling with his belt and jeans next to kick them off. Then she’s throwing the shirt she has on into the pile, and he leans back into the pillows, staring shamelessly up at her. Every curve, every scar, every freckle –he’s staring like he’s trying to memorize every inch of her skin just in case she suddenly changes her mind.

But she doesn’t.

Thank god, she doesn’t as she finds herself straddling his hips with her hands on his chest. Joaquín sits up, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her into him, trying to get as close to her as possible. Her hips roll against him as she pulls him in once again, kissing him like her life depends on it. His hands are guiding her hips, dragging her against his cock in order to coat him in the remnants of her first orgasm. 

The head of his cock catches her clit, and she gasps into his mouth. Joaquín grins into the kiss, unable to help himself, as he looks up at her again. His other hand gropes her chest, pinching and twisting at her nipples as he bites at her bottom lip.

“Joaquín, please,” she sighs, breaking the kiss just enough to breathe over his lips. She’s reaching between their bodies now to grasp his hard cock in her hands. “I need you –I need –,”

“What do you need, cariño?” He teases, trying to keep his hips from bucking up into her. “Take what you want, baby. C’mon…,”

She nods frantically, rising up onto her knees above him. Joaquín’s gaze drops to her hand around him, where she’s guiding his cock into her soaked core. As she slowly eases him into her, one of her hands shoots up to grip his arm, digging her nails into the skin to distract from the stretch. Joaquín’s head falls back again as she sinks down on him, his hands dropping to her ass just to hold something. Because if he doesn’t –shit, he’s going to lose any semblance of control he has.

Her grip on his arm tightens as their hips meet again, sinking him entirely inside her as she tries to adjust to his size. Joaquín groans as her walls clenched around him, and his hips involuntarily buck up –causing her to cry out in surprise and lurch forward, her hands gripping his shoulders tight. With her tits in his face, and his hands grasping her ass, Joaquín is done for –fuck control, he needed to ruin her.

Joaquín trails his fingers down her arms before wrapping them back around her hips, holding her tight against him as he pistons up into her. Not expecting that, a surprised cry leaves her lips as he catches her mouth with his again. He pulls her up, and she gets the hint as she rises to meet his thrusts, bouncing on his cock to bring herself closer and closer to the edge.

“Been thinking about you like this for so long,” he admits. He punctuates his last word with a hard thrust up that has the tip of his cock grazing a spot so deep inside her it makes her drop her face into his neck, crying out his name again.

“Fuck, Joaquín –you feel so good– please, god– please, please–,” Her words die in her throat when he yanks her down particularly hard, pressing her hips down to meet him and holding her there in slow, hard grind. She lets out a choked sob of his name, clenching hard around him and stealing a low moan from the back of his throat. 

She moans again, and Joaquín jolts up some as he feels her tongue trailing over the vein in his neck and over his jaw. Her mouth is on his again, and he can feel her tightening around him as her wetness starts to smear between their bodies. The sound of their skin slapping against skin only urges him forward, each thrust becoming messier and harder. It’s almost too much as his one hand dipped between their bodies, fingers fluently toying with her clit.

“Ven para mí,” he manages to breathe against her lips, nipping at her bottom one. “Cum for me again, baby, please –need you to cum on my cock –,”

Between the touch on her clit and the thrusts up into her, Joaquín can tell she’s close and he’d be damned if he came before her. Kissing her harder –all tongue, and teeth, and spit –he speeds up his thrusts in time with his fingers on her clit. She bites his lip for a moment before she gasps, closing her eyes tight as her body tenses up under him, only to spasm around him as she comes undone again. The only sound she makes are airy gasps of his name, begging him to keep going. Joaquín isn’t far behind as he thrusts up into her a few more times before his hips stutter against her. 

“Where –,”

“Inside –god, please,” she insists, holding tight to him as if afraid to lose his touch. “Pill -,”

Joaquín doesn’t think twice as he nods, taking hold of her jaw to kiss her again as he tenses up below her. He rolls his hips once, twice –then groans into her mouth as he fills her deep. She’s grinding against him still, riding out both of their orgasms now, as they both slowly come down. 

Then she drops against him, breathing heavily. Joaquín’s hand drops away from her jaw, pulling her back with him as he collapses on the bed. Her forehead presses against his neck, tucked just under his chin as she tries to catch her breath. He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a breath himself, as he savors the moment of her skin against his, holding her close to his chest.

They lay like this for a while –basking in each other’s touch, enjoying the warmth both are feeling. Joaquín is still buried inside her, still half-hard, but he makes no move to pull out. Not when she’s laying on him like this, melting into his touch. Just as he’s about to say something –ask her if she wants to take a bath or something –both their phones ring. The same ringtone, for the same person –texting them both at the same time.

“You think he knows he’s always interrupting?” She asks, but her voice is hoarse. 

“There’s no way he doesn’t,” Joaquín responds, but he doesn’t move from the bed. Instead, he pulls her closer and pulls the blankets up over them both. “He can figure it out without us.”

“You know he’s gonna show up at the door,” she points out, but she’s pressing herself somehow closer to him as his arms tighten around her. 

“I don’t even care –I got my girl in my arms. He’ll understand.”

-------

Taglist: @messrkarmaismygf13 @thecowboyfiles (you asked me to share with the class so here we are)

[venusbyline]

https://www.tumblr.com/venusbyline/787900328543682561/i-can-imagine-jace-praising-his-younger-sister?source=share

The gift makes it look like he's getting a bj right there on the table

YESSS I FELT SO HORNY WHEN I SAW THIS GIF 😭😭 he's sooo fucking pretty, i just wanna suck his cock all night all day

⚠️: SMUT CONTENT. innocent!reader, soft dom!Jacaerys, Targcest (older brother/younger sister), innocence kink, oral sex (male receiving), blowjob, praise kink, kinda dubcon, underage sex (no mention of Jacaerys or reader's ages tho), implied Daemon Targaryen/Jacaerys Velaryon/reader, implied uncle/niece & uncle/nephew incest. no use of y/n.

At first, Jacaerys remained at the Black Council only to continue reading the book Rhaenyra had given him, something important about political matters he needed to discuss with her at the next meeting. He remained there even after everyone else had left, and though he tried to focus on the book, his desires eventually got the better of him when his little sister came to ask what he was doing.

And what was supposed to be an afternoon of political learning ended up becoming an afternoon of sexual learning.

"It's sooo big..." that innocent whisper and those wide eyes made him chuckle. His little sister was always so cute with him, always following him around like a puppy, even if your twin brother was Lucerys.

And what kind of big brother would Jacaerys be if he did not teach his little sister — and future wife — how to pleasure him, even a few years before the wedding? He needed to get you on your knees under the table where he was sitting and show everything good that your pretty mouth could learn.

"Yeah, it's really big," Jacaerys boasted, as usual. A hand rested on your chin, tilting your head back so that you looked at him. "Did you like it, love?" when you nodded readily, he paused to think for a few seconds.

Although one of his biggest current desires was for you to use your hands around him, Jacaerys knew he needed to start with something less complicated. If the act was guided by him, it would be easier for both of you to enjoy it.

Raising a hand to your hair, he stroked the dark locks and asked, "Love, do you remember the new tapestry I showed you a few days ago?" your nonverbal confirmation prompted him to continue. "Alright... Now I want you to do what those women were doing to that man."

A blush spread across your cheeks as you remembered what you had seen — those sexual acts embroidered on the golden fabric. They were depraved things, for sure. There were many women around a single man and they were not only letting him enter their flowers, but they were also putting his member inside their mouths, each part of the tapestry showing different positions between all of them.

The reason why so many naughty things were embroidered on royal tapestries was never really understood by you. Every time a new one arrived at the castle, Jacaerys would chuckle at your curious and innocent reaction and Luke's embarrassed reaction.

And somehow, Jacaerys knew exactly that this situation would be good, because as soon as you agreed, he started jerking off his own pink cock. "Open your mouth wide, little sister."

Guiding himself into your mouth was not so pleasant for him at first, his heart clenching a little when you choked on because of the new sensation and tried to pull away scared, forcing him to grab you by the back of the neck and swallow a few more inches.

"Shhh love, breathe through your nose. Just breathe through your nose," he repeated the welcoming words, and despite the tears starting to flow, you obeyed him. Your throat contracted as his long shaft sank in. "Seven hells, love. Your pretty mouth feels so fucking tight..."

Jacaerys threw his head back, one hand grabbing your hair with a gentle grip and the other one needing to hold on to the arm of the table to stead still, losing himself in the sensations that your muffled whimpering caused around him.

"Fuck, little sister. Taking my big cock so well..." he looked down again, delighting at the sight of you with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, trying to swallow all of him and not wasting a single bit.

It was not the most pleasurable thing you had done so far — perhaps because it was your first time experiencing an act like that —, however, watching Jacaerys' frowning in pleasure and with those full lips parted motivated you not to break eye contact and start using your tongue, running it over the protruding, pulsating vein under the length of his cock while he moved your head back and forth, dictating the wished movement.

"That's it, little sister, just like that. Fuck, you feel so fucking good, love. I-I will not last so long, I will—" although his efforts to control himself seemed almost admirable, the sound of your cute gagging and the sound of the door suddenly opening was the last straw. "N-No! Oh no, fuck, fuck, fuck..."

Jacaerys' hips stuttered on their own, closing his eyelids tightly and moaning a lot as he came in your mouth, accidentally forcing you to swallow every drop of his seed.

His hand remained holding you there until you managed to pull away, coughing a few times and letting a mixture of drool and cum drip onto the floor. Neither you nor the prince had the nerve to look forward, knowing exactly who the sudden presence belonged to after both of you heard that familiar chuckle.

"Well, well... What a mess you two made."

Daemon's husky voice broke the awkward silence, and you noticed how Jacaerys felt aroused for the second time.

[zorostitties]

Weak Point; 1

⤕ It's crazy how life can turn upside down overnight. In your case, life took a 180º turn the morning you discovered you were the weakness of the most powerful creature in the world.

From a normal citizen, you become Jujutsu Society's most coveted target. In a world where everyone wants your head on a silver platter, plagued by secrets of the past and struggling to balance what remains of your “normal” life, you are trapped in a situation you cannot escape.

And yet - amid the chaos, you slowly realize that you might be his weak point in ways that have nothing to do with sorcery.

pairing: gojo x (f) reader

genre: romance, fluff and humor, angst, forced proximity, slow burn, eventual smut, "oh no we have to live in the same house" trope, fix-it fic (kinda)

warnings: violence/blood, explicit sex (in future parts), grief, smoking, alcohol consumption, explicit language, me trying to be funny

rating: 18+

word count: 9k

A/N: HELLO WORLD!! First of all, thank you so much for giving this fic a chance!! - This self-indulgent mess starts a little before JJK 0. - Reader is roughly a year younger than Gojo. - We're gonna dig HEAVILY into grief, especially deceased parents, so beware if this is a sensitive topic for you! - This is an afab!reader situation, so no specific physical traits will be described. I am giving you a nickname tho, because I'd rather eat shit than pollute my text with "Y/N" ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻) - And as usual, English is not my first language. Enjoy!! <3

⤕ Masterlist: soon! ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Taglist open!

It was a shift like any other before the kidnapping happened.

The emergency room is never a calm environment, of course, let alone of a big city. But the previous night, it felt that the gates of hell opened in the grounds of the Tokyo Metropolitan Hospital. It was that type of shift that let nurses with their hairs disheveled and eyes widened and doctors running from side to side and the endless noise of stretcher’s wheels around the halls and ambulance sirens and for fuck’s sake the coffee machine is broken again I will kill myself.

A shift like any other. Yeah.

There were two car crashes. Or three. You stopped counting after the third exposed fracture. A big festival happened in Shinjuku – or something like that – which always results in drunk people doing drunk people atrocities. There were a few cases of alcohol-induced coma, too, and a couple guys needing stitches on their faces because they got into fist fights. Also two heart attacks? Some old lady fell down the stairs of her home.

Yeah. Yeah, there was a lot of stuff happening at the same time.

Maybe that’s why you were so inattentive, that morning. The clocks marked 8AM; the sun had risen above the city and you hadn’t even noticed. Or maybe it was the coffee’s fault (or the lack of it, since the machine broke sometime past midnight). Or the energy drinks. Or the full pack of cigarettes you smoked. Or the salad you ate hours ago. Uh. There were a lot of things going on with you, actually, and not very professional on your part, but it was your second 24 hour shift that week, and you hadn’t really slept between the shifts, which meant you’d been awake for… huh… twenty hours straight?

Dad would’ve killed me if he knew, you thought.

Dad. Maybe you should’ve listened to your dad back then, when he said you should pick another specialty. A cardiologist like him, probably. Or a gynecologist. Some area that would allow you to work in a calm clinic, with a much higher salary and a more reasonable lifestyle.

It’s what anyone would want, of course, after years and years of studying: a respectable profession that gives you tons of money. But you weren’t like dad. You needed that adrenaline, and you needed the cigarettes and the coffee and the energy drinks, and you needed to be so overworked that your brain wouldn’t stop for a second to think about that other thing.

July 18th, 2017 – your phone screen showed. You only survived the 17th thanks to all of that.

Which didn’t mean your brain wasn’t reduced to jelly inside your skull at that point, of course.

“You look like you’re on cocaine.”

Remi stared at you with a mix of judging and concern in her eyes. She sat behind the nurse’s counter, while you leaned on it in front of her.

“I don’t.” You shrugged and took one more sip of the warm water from the plastic cup. Remi tightener her eyes.

“Your pupils are two black wholes. You look insane right now.”

“I’m fine.”

“How many energy drinks did you take?” Her perfect eyebrow quirked up.

“Not many.”

“This alone implies you had more than one. Are you trying to kill yourself?”

You shrugged again, half of your face hidden behind the plastic cup.

“Maybe.”

She rolled her eyes and huffed.

You weren’t annoyed at her. Remi was the responsible one, and you were the reckless one. This was your dynamic. It worked well. And she couldn’t really judge you, not while you spent the night in the seventh ring of hell while she spent her shift in the calm, silent inpatient unit.

“I’d rather be actually high right now, to be honest.” You admitted quietly. Remi nodded. She put some strands of honey blonde hair behind her ear delicately.

“Yeah. Me too.” Not so responsible. “Keito-kun was in Shinjuku… he sent me many photos.” A pout slowly took for in her lips. “He had invited me, you know. We were supposed to be there together.”

You tightened your eyes slowly.

“I thought you had stopped talking to him.”

“That was past week, darling. Things change.”

“Right.” Yeah, definitely not very responsible.

“But that’s not the point. The summer festival looked so fun! And there were so many hot guys there, too…”

“But weren’t you supposed to be there with Keito-kun?”

“I can multitask.”

You cackled. She followed. It was probably the first time you smiled that day.

You opened Mayu’s contact impatiently again. She had chosen some anime boy as her current icon. You tapped your index finger over the counter, trying to ignore the fact that your hands were shaking a bit.

“Mayu’s not answering me.” You mumbled. Remi typed something on her computer, not bothering to lift her eyes to you.

“It’s 8AM on a Saturday. No normal person is awake at this hour.”

“I think she went to Shinjuku behind my back.”

Remi pursed her lips and hummed. “...It’s the type of thing I would do as a teenager.”

“Me too.”

“So you can’t really judge her, can you?”

“Well, I’m supposed to be the responsible one now, aren’t I?” You didn’t plan on sounding exasperated all of sudden, and you didn’t plan on making your breathing get faster or your eyes widening, and maybe Remi was right, maybe you did look like someone on cocaine, and maybe you should really stop with the energy drinks – oh shit stop stop stop. One thought at a time. One thought at a time.

“Oh, come on. Even if she went there, Mayu is pretty level headed for her age. Much more than I was. I’m sure she’s fine. Maybe she’s sleeping right now and you’re overreacting.”

Yeah. Maybe. You’d call Aunt Junko later to make sure she actually slept there instead of sneaking out (Aunt Junko wasn’t that great with messaging apps. You had bought her a new phone, but she only knew how to accept and decline calls). But how could you not be anxious and overreact if yesterday was that day?

You knew – Mayu wasn’t as affected as you were. She was way too young when everything happened, after all. But still, now that most of the craziness of past night was slowly leaving your system, you felt guilt slowly grow inside of you. Was it a bit selfish to choose to work a shift in such a date? What if she was upset that you left her alone?

July 18th, the notification bar showed. Yesterday, July 17th.

July 17th.

Shit. Stop thinking about that other thing. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To not think about it. So don’t think about it. It was yesterday anyway. It’s over.

Remi yawned.

“When are you leaving?”

“At nine thirty.” You groaned and massaged your own forehead. “Shit. Just remembered I’ll have to go home by subway.”

“Thank God, I wouldn’t let you drive in this state.” She tightened her eyes at you again. It was funny to see her going mom mode, even though she didn’t have children. “You should take better care of your health, girl. An ER doctor trying to have a heart attack? You’ll enter this hospital as a patient one of these days!”

You nodded tiredly. “I know. My bad.”

To be fair, usually you wouldn’t be so reckless. In a normal day, just plain caffeine and a few breaks to smoke would carry you through a full shift smoothly. It’s just that… it wasn’t a normal day. But you didn’t have it in you to try to justify yourself, because if you tried, you’d have to talk about that other thing, and you didn’t want to do it.

Before any of you could say anything, the soft ring of an electronic bell caught your attention. You tiptoed over the counter to see the panel of alarm lights. The little light from Room 32 glowed in green.

“Mrs. Hamazaki’s room.” Remi sighed and got up from her chair, sending you a pleading look. “I know you’re on your break, but can you cover me for a while? Just until Misa-san comes back. If a patient calls, dial downstairs… but she should be back in five minutes.”

You still had thirteen minutes left. Technically you shouldn’t, but you decided to shrug and walk to the other side of the counter anyway. “Sure.”

Remi patted your shoulder as you settled on her chair and put the stethoscope around her neck, disappearing down the quiet hallway towards Room 32.

Quiet. Real quiet, here.

You sighed, suddenly feeling an invisible weight worth tons over your shoulders. Sleep was finally starting to take space inside your head. Just the thought that you still had to take the subway – even for just a few stations –, shower, eat something and probably scold Mayu for going to Shinjuku (you knew her too well) made you feel tired.

But it’s fine. You’d have the next three days off, thanks to the two consecutive shifts you took.

You placed your phone standing over the desk, balancing it on the computer screen, and opened the front camera – just to immediately regret it. Jesus Christ, you really looked insane; your hair looked like a bird’s nest, dark circles under your eyes, your lips were chapped (you were so sure Mayu stole your lip balm)… everything about you was wrong. You immediately untied the loose bun and tied it again, trying to make your hair look at least a little more presentable. A small part of your brain tried to remember the last time you wore something nice, went to a hair salon or put makeup beyond just some soft mascara and blush… it was two months ago, maybe. Or three.

Fuck.

That’s the life you chose, right?

Nine minutes to the end of your break.

An annoying, familiar sound caught your attention. You frowned and got up to peek from over the counter.

Disgust immediately set in your stomach.

Other than the broken coffee machine or the new nurse that took ages to get a single blood sample or that old man that yelled at you because his case was sooo much worse than a car crash victim (he just had back pain) or the paramedic that gave you he wrong prognosis or the drunk patient flirting with you or that test result that arrived two hours late, that fucking thing on the floor was what made you truly feral the entire shift.

Except – you couldn’t sneak into the inpatients unit to complain about it with Remi, because apparently, no one else could see it.

It’s not as if you weren’t used to it. In fact, you were so used to it that you could fully ignore it, because that’s what adults do. Oh, you’re seeing a creature that looks straight out of Silent Hill? No, you’re fucking not. No one else is seeing it, so I’m not seeing it either.

It was also very unprofessional to be showing clear signs of schizophrenia and not being brave enough to confess it to a psychiatrist, sure. But it wasn’t a today thing. It was an always thing, because you’d always seen these things, and it was already so familiar that it didn’t shock you anymore. Maybe you could’ve done something about it when you were a kid, but now? At your big age? As you were so close to completing your residency? Fuck no.

This one wasn’t even as gruesome as the others you’d seen. But hell, how annoying it was.

“Chuuuuu…” the creepy little thing moaned. It looked like a rat – an obese, hairless, in advanced state of decomposition rat; its legs were too short and thin for the rest of the body, hence why it moved around slowly, dragging itself on the cool floor. And shit, it smelled so bad; its stench immediately overwhelmed the usual smell of antiseptic of the hall.

That fucking thing.

It kept chuuuu-ing in your ear the entire shift. It wandered around the ER room, and you crossed its slow path many times, trying to not look too insane as you avoided stepping on it. Even when you were far from it, you’d still hear the chuuuuuu and it was making you go nuts.

Again. Maybe it was the date or your maniacal mental state that made you so bothered with it. You’d see these things almost weekly at the hospital; they were all irritating, but they were also small and easy to ignore. You’d encountered far worse before. Yet, you just couldn’t stand it this time.

“Chuuuuuuu…” it repeated again. You grimaced.

“Shut the fuck up,” you finally hissed in something between a whisper and a yell, because you’d been holding back this entire time and now there was no one to witness you cussing at nothing.

Seven minutes to the end of your break.

The fucking thing looked at you.

It moved its hairless head slowly in your direction. Its eyes were white and empty. It… it lifted its head to look at you.

You froze in place.

You were looking at it, and it was looking back. It was looking. It was seeing.

That was new.

The thing screeched.

Like a rodent in a trap, but angrier. It… it looked angry, now. Its fat face retorted, exposing a set of sharp teeth, drool dripping from its mouth.

That was also new.

It changed directions. Before, it was crawling down the hallway; now, it crawled towards the counter – much faster than it was before. Towards you.

That was also very new.

“What the fuck?” You whispered, looking to your sides; the hallway was still empty. Your hallucinations were trying to attack you now? Shit, what if Remi was right and you were actually high? What if someone spiked your energy drink? Where the hell was that Misa-san she talked about? There’s no way– no way you’d deal with that alone.

The rat thing crawled closer. Closer. You got up from the chair.

“Shoo,” you tried, feeling a mix of urgency and disgust and sheer embarrassment because hey, were you trying to shoo a mutant rat that apparently only existed in your head?! You looked to your sides again, over the counter, waiting for anyone to appear – but the hallway was still dead empty.

It crossed the counter, screeching angrily. You stepped back and almost hit your back on a cabinet behind you. “Go away!” You whispered again. It only caused it to screech louder.

The thing opened and closed its jaws, biting the air around your feet. It was trying to bite you.

“No!” You tiptoed, trying to avoid it. The thing screeched so loud that it hurt your eardrums. It aimed at your ankles; its teeth were dead sharp, and it was drooling, and it was so much more disgusting from up close, and it smelled of rotten flesh, and it was going to bite your ankles, and– and–

“No!”

You stomped on it.

The thing exploded.

Its insides splashed around your right foot like it was nothing but a balloon filled with water, but instead of water it was purple rotten slime. You stood there, paralyzed, staring at your foot, the rat’s guts splashed on the floor – when suddenly, right before your eyes, its remains started to vaporize in black dust.

And then, in less than 5 seconds, there was only purple blood.

Or you thought that was blood.

That was all very fucking new.

“Ew!” A visceral disgusted groan erupted from your throat. You looked around again frantically (No one! Where the hell was that Misa-san girl?!), not knowing if you wished someone would see this or thankful that no one witnessed you murdering a… uh… rat? Rodent?

You were feeling its warm blood drip down your ankles and inside your socks, staining your white tennis shoe and the hem of your navy blue pants. That thing was real.

“Ew! Ew!” You whispered again. You hopped on one foot towards the paper towels on the wall, taking as many as you could and wiping the blood from your shoe the best way you could. I’m gonna get rabies, the thought crossed your mind, spiking your panic. I’m gonna get mutant rabies. I need to disinfect this. Disinfectant! Shit, I killed a wild animal or whatever that thing was– but I wasn’t expecting it to fucking implode like that! How did it get inside the hospital anyway?! Should I call animal control? How am I going to explain this–

“Excuse me?”

You yelped and turned around in a jump.

There was a boy.

He stood on the other side of the counter, eyeing you with a slight frown. His hair was a gracious mess of spiked black strands; he wore a plain white t-shirt and jeans. His eyelashes were ridiculously long (in a jealous tone), contrasting with his pale white skin.

Oh. Ooooh.

You eyed the identification sticker glued to the right side of his chest (remembering names is not a doctor’s forte).

“Oh. Hello, Fushiguro-kun. Good morning.” You swiftly threw the dirty tissues in the trash can under the counter, away from his eyesight. “How can I help you?”

Technically you shouldn’t help him because this was not your area and that Misa-san girl should be here already, but not only were you trying to not look so awkward and not let a visitor know you had just killed a wild animal inside the hospital – you had a soft spot for him. Everyone had, to be honest.

“Good morning, Mori-san.” You noticed how he didn’t look at your ID badge, he just remembered your name. Such a good kid. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just that… I thought I heard something.”

Great.

“Really? Heard what?”

Fushiguro tightened his eyes again. Why did he look so suspicious?

“Something strange.”

Greeeat. The boy heard me stomp on a wild animal. Fantastic.

“Must’ve been outside, I guess. It’s really silent here.” Years of calming hysterical patients made you perfect the ability of offering a calm, unsuspecting smile. “Can I help you with anything else?”

Which was something stupid to ask twice, because there was nothing you could help him with… and you had tried before.

You first met Fushiguro back in April.

It was your shift when his older sister, Fushiguro Tsumiki, was admitted to the hospital.

She came unconscious in an ambulance with a shivering, panicked friend of hers, both wearing school uniforms. You didn’t remember the specifics, but they were out of school doing something they clearly shouldn’t when Tsumiki blacked out, in her friend’s words. Your first assumption was alcoholic coma, obviously, even though her friend denied it vehemently (what teenager wants to get caught drinking in school hours?). She also stated that Tsumiki hadn’t hit her head anywhere, which was true: there were no signs of concussion or any other injury anywhere in her body. No convulsion, drooling or bleeding. Her vital signs were perfectly fine. And yet, Tsumiki wouldn’t wake up.

Around an hour after she was admitted, Fushiguro arrived. You remember asking where their parents were, but he was so frenetic that you decided to explain the situation to him before they could come. You told Fushiguro about her health status. You explained that she was going through a tomography at that moment and she still had more exams to take, but despite the unconsciousness, she was stable.

Your shift ended. You went home. The sight of that lonely, scared teenager stuck with you – maybe because he reminded you of Mayu.

The next day, you discovered that Tsumiki had been transferred from the ER to the ICU. She was none of your business anymore. And yet, during your break, you decided to check her test results out of curiosity.

There were no signs of alcohol or drugs in her blood.

No concussion, aneurysm, tumor or stroke. Her brain was perfectly fine.

And yet – Tsumiki would not wake up.

You were always busy with patients. It was hard to keep track of each case, and after someone was transferred out of the ER, you usually didn’t have time to check on them. But that girl intrigued you (and pretty much the entire medical staff). She was not brain dead; instead, her brain was working on a low frequency, as if she was simply asleep.

An inexplicable coma?

The entire situation kept coming back to you, not just due to the sheer absurdity of it, but also because of the boy.

Fushiguro came to visit every day during the first month. Remi always talked about him. Other nurses talked about him, too, always in a heartbroken tone. You’d cross his path in the hospital sometimes, and when you did, you’d make sure to check on him.

Whenever you saw him, your heart tightened.

He did remind you too much of Mayu. It made you think of her in this state if you were hospitalized. It broke your heart even more after you learned they were orphans. The whole thing just hit too close to home.

It was one of these situations that made you wonder, if I had done something different when she arrived, would I have saved her?

These days, he visited the hospital once or twice a week, always alone – which made you genuinely worried for him, since he was orphaned. Who was taking care of that boy? You went as far as checking Tsumiki’s file again, only to note that they had a legal guardian (well, someone had to be paying for the medical expenses, right?). Remi explained that said legal guardian did visit her sometimes as well (and she didn’t forget to mention how hot he was, apparently), you just happened to never be there when he was.

Tsumiki was currently in a room down the hallway. The visiting hours started at 8 o’clock, and there he was, always punctual.

And still eyeing you with suspicion.

Boy, I like you, but you’re starting to piss me off right now.

“...No, thank you,” he finally said, stepping away slowly. “I guess it was nothing.” Fushiguro offered you a polite bow. “Excuse me. Have a good job.”

You watched him walk out of the inpatients unit through the door.

Only then did you breathe again.

Three minutes to the end of your break.

Shit. You were going to get late. Where the fuck was Misa-san?! In fact, where was everybody in this goddamn ward?! You rushed to grab the phone and dialed the infirmary extension, ready to yell at someone, taping your fingertips over the desk impatiently. You’d have to explain yourself about the mutant rodent later – and you wouldn’t bother to clean that blood, not after Misa-san pissed you off by being late. Is no one going to pick it up?!

Two minutes to the end of your break.

The soft ring of an electronic bell.

Great. Fantastic.

You eyed the panel of alarms over the desk angrily. I don’t even know who Misa-san is, but I already hate her.

But then – you froze.

The alarm light was glowing in red. Emergency.

Over each alarm, there were stickers with the names of the patients occupying the rooms.

Room 39.

Fushiguro Tsumiki.

Your stomach dropped.

You put the phone down and ran down the hallway.

Is this really happening? Is it a mistake? What if the alarm is broken–? It didn’t matter. It didn’t even matter that you were going to get late and that this wasn’t your job. That was Tsumiki, and her brother had just left the room barely a minute ago. What if a miracle had just happened?! You’d still have time to run after him to tell him the news!

Room 39 was at the end of the corridor. Without a second thought, you barged in.

You were greeted by darkness.

The curtains were closed. Barely any light from outside reached the room. You tattered the wall, searching for the switch. It didn’t turn the lights on.

But you could still see the outline of her body.

Laying on the hospital bed. The covers up to her chest. Sleeping peacefully.

And for a second, you thought it really was just a mistake; the alarm went off on its own for some reason.

Until you saw someone holding the button.

It was dark; you couldn’t really see. But your body felt it. Your senses. You felt it, with something primitive and instinctive inside of you, felt it with your soul.

There was something terribly, terribly, terribly wrong happening.

And it was like the world outside of that small hospital room didn’t exist anymore. You couldn’t hear anything behind that door; only the darkness that surrounded you, and the cold – it was freezing cold – creeping up your legs and arms like frost. Your lungs failed. Adrenaline pumped in your veins. You didn’t want to turn your back to that thing, because your instincts knew that was a bad idea. And yet, you knew you had to run.

You turned the doorknob in a swift motion.

But it was already too late.

You had time to feel an icy cold hand grip around your wrist.

Then – darkness.

Megumi felt himself fill with anger as he waited for The Idiot.

He tapped his foot nervously, bit his fingernails even more nervously. He’d been trying to stop with this habit, but these days it felt nearly impossible. Not after everything that had been happening.

And certainly not after what happened an hour ago.

Which is what made him angrier. At himself.

Because he didn’t feel that presence until it was too late.

Megumi was inside the elevator, making his way to the ground floor of the hospital, when he felt that. The undeniable, chilling cursed energy – so strong that he could feel it from the other side of the building; it appeared suddenly, made the hairs in the nape of his neck rise, made his eyes widen and his heartbeat spike. Made him press the floor button angrily as if it’d make the elevator change directions out of nowhere.

Then came the explosion.

It shook the entire hospital. It cut the energy. It made him get stuck alone in the elevator for solid three minutes. It took him another three to run upstairs.

But it was already too late.

The cursed energy had disappeared, but not the immense hole on the wall that it – whatever it was – created in broad daylight.

Inside his sister’s room.

Panic filled the entire complex building. He heard people yelling, running, nurses rushing to get patients out of the ward, the distant sound of sirens. There was no fire, however – what created that hole on the wall wasn’t normal. All of that was a blur inside Megumi’s mind.

A hole. Cursed energy. Something inside Tsumiki’s room, minutes after he left.

She was unharmed. Some debris hit her cheek, but other than a small bruise, she was “fine”. That didn’t calm him.

What just happened? Why it happened? Why her?

The hospital was packed with police, firefighters and reporters now. As expected, lawyers already tried to talk to him (desperate for him not to sue them), but it was no use talking to a minor. They wanted his legal guardian.

The Idiot.

If he even felt like coming, that was.

There’s no way he’s not coming, Megumi tried to calm himself. This isn’t just because of Tsumiki. Something strange happened here. He needs to check.

Though – maybe there was a tiny part of him wishing he wouldn’t come…

Well. That was too late.

The familiar black sedan peeked around the corner.

And there he was.

The Idiot walked out of the car with his usual nonchalant posture, holding an opened chocolate Pocky pack. Megumi half expected him to immediately hit him with a joke, or scolding passed as a joke, or downplay the situation–

But The Idiot looked in the direction of the East ward and hummed.

Megumi couldn’t see his eyes, but he knew the man was frowning.

Great. So he knows I’m not overreacting.

“Scandalous, heh?” The Idiot mumbled as he stepped closer. “Too many people here. I don’t like it.”

Ijichi walked out of the car as well, looking nervous as usual. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose while typing something on his phone. “Should I notify the school?”

“Yep.” The Idiot put a Pocky in his mouth.

He walked towards the reception, not waiting for anyone. Megumi saw Ijichi about to say something else – probably that The Idiot shouldn’t get involved before Jujutsu High took responsibility over the case –, but he kind of had permission to do whatever he wanted, so Ijichi stopped himself and pressed the phone on his ear with a sigh of defeat.

Megumi followed him inside the hospital shortly.

“What do you think it was?”

The Idiot shrugged. “Dunno. Gotta take a closer look.” Normal people weren’t allowed to walk in, but he simply ignored it. “Is Tsumiki okay?”

“Yes. She was taken to another room.”

He nodded while chewing. Megumi wanted to believe that The Idiot felt relieved upon hearing that, even though he had already said Tsumiki’s condition through the phone… but it was hard to tell.

“So, let me rewind it…” Megumi rushed to follow him into the elevator. “You were right here… and didn’t feel anything wrong?”

Megumi felt his ears get warm. He hated being reprimanded by The Idiot, and he hated failing, and he hated that it would give The Idiot material to tease him about it. The elevator doors closed.

“I did feel something strange… but…”

“You thought it was nothing?” The Idiot crossed his arms and pouted. “You let your critical thinking overrun your gut? C’mon, Megumi. I’m disappointed.”

“You can’t judge me. This hospital is infested with Grade 4 curses. You know it.”

“Oh, but I can judge you.” The Idiot pointed at him with a Pocky. Despite his words, his tone wasn’t harsh – it was carefree as usual, and perhaps that pissed Megumi even more. “You told me you were taking care of the weakling curses. You said everything was under control, isn’t it? Boooo.” He flicked Megumi’s forehead, which made him inflate with even more anger. The Idiot pouted like a child and stepped away from him, pressing the pack of Pockys over his chest protectively. “Don’t look at me like that. I ain’t giving you any.”

“I don’t want your stupid–”

Ding. The elevator doors opened. The Idiot walked out before Megumi could finish the sentence.

As expected, the hallway was packed with policemen and firefighters. The door leading to the inpatients unit was protected by Keep Out yellow tapes, but The Idiot simply lifted it over his head and walked in.

A guard from the hospital immediately intercepted him. “Sir, this area is forbidden…”

And maybe the fact that he was two heads shorter than The Idiot made his confidence deflate, or the off-putting blindfold, or the simple fact that The Idiot had this strange way of acting like he owned anywhere he walked into and it always made people question themselves. Megumi had seen this same reaction countless times before. The guard cleared his throat and made an effort to broaden his shoulders.

“Sir, you may not enter the area unless authorized. I must ask who you are.”

“Oh. Right.” The Idiot had the decency to shove the Pockys inside the pocket of his jacket, at least. His tone was a mix of nonchalance and passive aggressiveness as usual. “You were looking for this little guy’s legal guardian. Here I am. The legal guardian.” He patted Megumi on the shoulder rather aggressively. “His legal guardian and of the girl who almost blew up inside your hospital, you know.”

The guard went pale.

A middle-aged man wearing a suit nearby observed the conversation and rushed nearer. Megumi recognized him – one of the hospital’s lawyers. He pressed his hands together and smiled nervously.

“Eh, you must be Gojo-san, isn’t it? It’s a pleasure to meet you. We’ve been waiting for your arrival–”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The Idiot kept walking.

Megumi followed. The nervous lawyer followed, too.

The nearer they got to the room at the end of the corridor, the more people gathered. The Idiot towered over all of them, making his way unhurriedly while the lawyer babbled. As he stood in front of Room 39’s open doors, a policeman tried to stop him, but the lawyer hushed:

“This man can end our hospital’s reputation. Please, let him take a look.”

The policeman let him step inside. Megumi followed.

The Idiot whistled.

“What a mess.”

Megumi’s stomach dropped. The wall that faced outside was destroyed; the steel beams were retorted, the concrete cracked even on the ceiling. A hole with a diameter of at least three meters.They still had to verify if the structure of that part of the building had the risk of completely crumbling, though Megumi doubted it. Now, the view to the hospital’s back gardens and the street just ahead was totally visible.

To know that Tsumiki laid right there when whatever or whoever caused this much destruction was… to know that the debris could’ve caused her much more harm… Tsumiki, asleep, defenseless…

The man beside him hummed and held his chin. In moments like this, Megumi wished he could see through his eyes.

“Sloppy work. There’s residue all over the place.”

“So… you don’t think this is the work of a curse?”

“Nope.”

Megumi’s worst suspicions.

Curse users.

Whoever was behind this was intelligent. Had intent. So maybe… maybe Tsumiki’s condition had intent behind it, too…

“I just don’t get why Tsumiki was unharmed.” The Idiot said. “Why draw this much attention if you’re going to leave her behind?”

Megumi had been asking himself this the entire time. It didn’t make any sense.

He sighed and crossed his arms. “Well. I guess keeping her here isn’t safe anymore. Though I don’t think Shoko will be okay with moving her to the school…”

Megumi knew that. Jujutsu High didn’t have the necessary staff or equipment to accommodate a patient in coma; that’s why Tsumiki was in this hospital in the first place. They already knew that her problem couldn’t be solved by normal doctors. She just needed a place to be properly taken care of until they found a solution.

“C’mon. Where is Tsumiki now? Gonna take a look at her.” The Idiot turned around. Megumi frowned and followed.

“What about the cursed energy residue?”

“Just the usual. We gotta track it.” The Idiot shrugged and walked down the hallway back to where they came from. The middle-aged lawyer approached again, babbling about how he was so eager to sit down with him and settle the situation extrajudicially (Megumi wanted to punch him on the face. His sister could’ve died and all he cared about was not getting sued?!). Said lawyer got pale when The Idiot absently handed him a simple black business card and told him to talk to his lawyers (plural), as he had no time in his schedule.

They waited for the elevator. The Idiot started chewing his Pockys again, humming a tune and tapping his foot to the rhythm.

Megumi hated that.

How he couldn’t even pretend to be worried for Tsumiki.

That was when another voice caught his attention.

“You’re not listening to me, sir.”

“I am listening, ma’am.”

“Then why are none of you taking action?! I spent the last hour explaining the same thing!”

“And I have already explained how the protocol works–”

“I am telling you that my friend was taken!”

Ding. The elevator doors opened.

Megumi walked to the other end of the corridor instead. The Idiot tilted his head to the side, calling his name, but he ignored it.

That was Yoshida Remi. The blonde nurse responsible over this floor’s inpatients unit. Megumi already knew her well at this point. He noticed how her forehead had a small bruise, and there were band-aids over her forearms; she was hurt by the explosion? Her hair was disheveled, her face pale, and her expression a mix of concern and frustration. An unwilling policeman stood in front of her, looking like he just wanted to get rid of the situation.

“In fact, Yoshida-san, you have failed to explain exactly what happened.”

She gripped her own hair and groaned. “I… I already told you! She was taken!”

“By who?”

“I…”

The policeman sighed and made an appeasing gesture with his palms turned to her. “I understand you must be in shock, ma’am, after witnessing an explosion. I believe it’s best for you to calm down first and organize your thoughts.”

“My thoughts are organized! My colleague works here and she’s nowhere to be found!”

“Have you tried calling her?”

“I already said– I told you that I got her phone!” The nurse almost scrubbed a phone on the policeman’s face, shaking it angrily in his direction. “How could I call her?!”

“Excuse me, officer.”

Megumi turned his head to see The Idiot approaching as well.

He touched the policeman’s shoulder and opened a small smile. “I’ll take it from here.”

Anyone normal would question the guy with the blindfold, but the officer was visibly so tired of that situation that he decided to simply nod and escape.

The nurse was taken aback. “Fushiguro-kun? You’re still here?” He saw a load of guilt cross her face. “I am so sorry for what happened to your sister. You have checked on her already, right? Fortunately, she was unscathed…”

“Yes. Yes, I saw her.” Megumi nodded.

The Idiot stepped closer. “What were you talking about? Your colleague was taken?”

Yoshida Remi’s eyes traveled to The Idiot – and at the same rate she was visibly confused by the blindfold, she also blushed. Megumi tried not to roll his eyes. “Gojo-san? I-I didn’t know you were an officer.”

“Yeah.” The Idiot smiled, not bothering to deny it. “So? Can you explain to me exactly what you saw?”

She dropped her eyes and frowned; the nurse was so, so, so visibly confused. “I-I… I’m not really sure of what I saw. But I saw. I heard a noise coming from Fushiguro-san’s room, so I went there to check it, and…” She scratched her head nervously. “I saw someone, or something, grab my friend and take her away. Then the explosion came and I’m even less sure of what happened, but…” She looked up again with frantic, widened eyes. “But she disappeared! I looked for her everywhere! Look, her phone was left behind, and I found her badge on the floor, too…”

Megumi’s eyes widened.

“It was Mori-san?”

She nodded. “Yes! You remember her, don’t you?!”

Of course Megumi remembered her. He saw her just minutes before the explosion happened… and she looked suspicious…

Surprisingly, The Idiot took the ID badge from the nurse’s hand and looked down at it.

His smile had vanished.

So had his nonchalant posture.

“Megumi.” The black haired boy frowned at his tone – lower? More serious? “Let’s go.”

He also took the phone from the nurse’s hand and turned around without explaining anything.

“What? Are you making a police report?”

The Idiot threw her a thumbs up without looking back. “Yep! No worries!”

Megumi bowed at the confused blonde nurse politely before running after him. “Where are we going?!”

“We’re going to solve a kidnapping, silly. Ain’t it obvious?” He flicked Megumi’s temple again to his utmost anger. Luckily, the elevator’s doors were already opened, so both rushed in. The black sedan and Ijichi were waiting in the same spot.

“Good news, though.” The Idiot said while chewing more Pocky. “I don’t think this had anything to do with Tsumiki at all.”

“What…?”

The Idiot, as usual, did not elaborate.

Surprisingly, he sat on the passenger’s seat instead of the backseats, which for some reason made Ijichi sweat. While Megumi adjusted his seatbelt, Ijichi asked nervously:

“Where to next, Gojo-san?”

The Idiot hummed.

With his thumb, he pushed the black blindfold up to his forehead, exposing his right eye. His cyan iris seemed to glow faintly.

“...Hmm… Sanya, I guess.” He put the blindfold back in place and excitedly reached for the radio, immediately turning it up to an obnoxious volume. “I’m not picking any of your boring songs, Ijichi!”

The driver shivered.

One day, Megumi would land a much deserving punch on his face.

It was freezing.

All of your senses were slow as consciousness awakened again. No hearing, no seeing, no smelling or tasting. But you could feel that it was cold.

The second thing you could feel was your teeth chattering.

The third, a discomfort on the entire left side of your body: you were laying on a hard floor. Your neck hurt from the way your head hung.

The fourth was the fact that you couldn’t move.

You could feel your limbs, but there was no strength to them, as if the cable that connected your brain to your limbs was ripped off. Your body was useless.

That’s when panic started to settle in.

What the fuck was going on?!

Finally, you could see again.

The place was dimly lit by… candles? That was it, probably, judging by the way shadows flickered on the walls. Each breath of yours produced small clouds of steam. It was a relatively large room; the concrete floor under your body was wet. The place smelled like a butcher shop. Were you inside a meat locker? That should be it, judging by how stupidly cold it was. With your peripheral vision, you could see that there was a plastic curtain somewhere in the corner.

Your teeth chattered, but that was an involuntary motion. You could move your eyeballs and that was it. The rest of your body – numb.

A million thoughts per minute rushed in your head. A spinal fracture? Had you completely lost movement?

You were laying in fetal position: leg to leg, arm to arm. You tried your best to look down…

You were… mummified?

That was the only description. There was… paper wrapped around your body. Yellowed paper, old looking, with inscriptions that you couldn’t really recognize. From what you could see, only your head was free from it.

Panic really really really settled in.

Oh my fucking God. What is happening?! Where am I?! What happened– wait, try to remember. Try to remember. I was working. I was in the hospital. I stepped on a weird looking rat. My break was close to ending. I rushed to a room because the alarm was on and– and– what happened after that?! What–?

You heard steps.

It made your heartbeat spike up.

Shit. Shit. Oh my God. Oh my God. I was kidnapped.

It was more than one pair of feet – two or three people? You couldn’t be sure, as you couldn’t fucking move your head to see it, but the noise clearly came from over that plastic curtain. Low male voices. It made violent shivers run your entire body.

Fear. Fear. Fear. You were frightened. A type of fear you’d never experienced before. It was visceral, colder than the temperature, scarier than any weird creature you’d seen before. You were in an actually dangerous situation and you couldn’t even form a coherent thought.

I’m being trafficked I’m going to die I’m going to die I’m going to die I’m going to die I’m–

The second little person living inside your head slaps the first little person on the face. Shut up!! Focus! Try to think of a way out!!

A window–?! You couldn’t turn your head to see if there was one. If this really was a meat locker, there shouldn’t be any. A familiar sound?! Cars outside–?! Nothing. The only things you could hear were the low voices of the unknown men nearby and a constant quiet buzz. A board?! A flyer?! Anything that might tell you where you are–?! Nothing to see on your field of view.

The first little person living inside your head starts freaking out again. I don’t know where I am I don’t know how long I’ve been knocked out I might be paraplegic I’m going to die I’m going to die I’m going to die—

You’re not being useful!, the second little person yells, making the first little person recoil and shiver. You’ve watched these true crime documentaries! The probability of living if you don’t take action now are less than 10%! Do something now that we have a chance!

Right right right. They still hadn’t noticed that you were awake; you could only hope there was no one watching you from behind where you couldn’t see. You’d have to take advantage of this before anyone crossed the curtains.

You could feel your limbs and the pain and the discomfort, so a spinal fracture was less likely. Maybe they had anesthetized you and the effects were beginning to dissipate? What sort of anesthetic was that, by the way, to render anyone in this state? Gosh— if it really was general anesthesia, you were lucky to be alive to begin with.

Try to move. It felt silly to try to mechanically do something a body does on the automatic. You focused your senses on your left feet; the strange blood of the mutant rat had dried in your sock, becoming some sort of crust you could feel very well. You could feel that the shoelace was less tight than on the right foot. Try to move. Try to move. A spasm. A wiggle. Anything. Anything.

But nothing moved.

No matter how hard you tried.

Your breath became irregular and difficult as real, real, real panic spread through your system.

I am going to die.

Both little people inside your head were screaming now.

I can’t move. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know who these people are. I don’t know what they’re gonna do. I don’t have a way out. I don’t have an escape plan. I can’t contact anyone. I am going to die I am going to die I am going to die I am going to die I am going to die I am going to—

Mayu.

The two little people shut up abruptly.

Mayu.

Fourteen year old Mayu, waiting for you to come home. Acting nonchalant at first but then getting really worried when you don’t pick up or text back. Mayu, going back to Aunt Junko’s house, not knowing what to do. Mayu, Mayu-chan, Mayuka, lonely and frightened the way you saw Fushiguro Megumi the evening that his older sister was brought in.

Mayu.

You couldn’t allow anyone to kill you.

You couldn’t just leave her behind.

Another feeling grew inside of you, spread like fire on hay; made the two little people run and hide. Overwhelmed the fear quickly.

Anger.

Who the fuck these men thought they were to kidnap you?! What right did they have?!

Anger mixed with frustration pumped even more adrenaline through your bloodstream; tears welled up your eyes, tightened your throat. I can’t be dragged around like a garbage bag! I can’t allow it! I have to do something!

USELESS BODY!! DO!! SOMETHING!!

It started like a point of heat — right in your heart.

You didn’t know what that was. For a brief second, you thought it was cardiac arrest — that’s probably what it’d feel like. It was hot, piping hot, made your blood boil, your vision blur in white; it spread through your skin, from your toes to your scalp. It was heat, it was energy, it was anger—

It was fire.

It was black. The flames — they were black; they enveloped your body, and it took a second to understand that this was not your imagination; you were in flames. You’d have screamed if you could. It took you another second, however, to realize that these flames weren’t burning you… not exactly.

They set the papers that wrapped your body on fire.

You watched in utter disbelief as the inscriptions on the papers seemed to glow for a moment before burning down to ashes.

All of that happened in less than ten seconds.

The black fire extinguished as if it’d never been there in the first place.

The strange yellowed paper that once enveloped your body — gone.

And all of sudden — you could move.

The cable was reconnected.

You got up in a jump; your limbs ached and you felt dizzy, but somehow managed to keep your balance. Your heart pounded in your chest, you gasped for air as if you’d been underwater, your fingers were shaking, you felt a terrible headache— and on top of that, you were tired as if you’d ran a marathon.

None of that mattered. You could move. You could run.

You didn’t even have time to look around, however — because the curtains were opened.

There were three men.

They were all relatively tall. The one in the middle had long black hair, an ugly goatee and tattoos on his forearms. Their clothes were pretty unimpressive. They… didn’t look threatening, not exactly — the one in the middle looked like someone you’d have beaten up in middle school — but there was something in your gut yelling at you to be careful, that they represented danger you could not deal with. Not just because of the obvious fact that they were your kidnappers. Not even because the guy on the left had a fucking katana strapped to his hip.

It was that chilly, strange feeling that usually meant there was a creature nearby.

You’d never felt this for a person before.

The goatee guy hummed and measured you up and down.

“She broke the seals. You shoulda made sure these seals would work, huh, Hideki?” His voice was raspy. Was he talking like a stereotypical Yakuza member on purpose? Did he think he sounded cool doing that?

“Ain’t my fault. The seals were pretty tight.” The guy on the left replied. Why was he also talking like that?! He opened a smirk, exposing a set of the yellowest teeth you’d ever seen. “This only means she really is the one, right?”

“Uh-huh.” The goatee guy smirked too and caressed said goatee. “Just like they told us, aye?”

“This one’s gonna make us a ton of money.” The one on the right said with a stupidly high pitched voice.

“Who are you? Where am I?” You felt stupid — why would they answer? Why even ask in the first place? In fact — seals?! What were they talking about?!

“Knock her out again. And make better seals this time.” Goatee guy ignored you completely. The guy on the left stepped closer, which spiked your panic once again.

You could move now, but what difference did that make against three people? You were weak, standing pathetically, shaking from head to toe.

“No! No!” You yelled when he gripped your wrist and pulled you without any effort.

“No one’s gonna hear you. It’s useless.”

“Fuck you!”

You punched his face.

It was a sloppy, weak punch with your non-dominant hand — not enough to make him release you, but enough to make him angry.

He gripped your hair with his free hand and pulled aggressively; it felt like he was going to rip the strands off the scalp, making you scream again — in pain this time.

“Fucking bitch—“

And then you were on the ground.

And he was on the ground, too. And goatee guy. And the baby voice guy.

And everyone was on the ground, because the roof had exploded.

You didn’t have time to look up or scream or even properly register what the fuck had happened before you were shocked against the wet floor. It sounded like a bomb had dropped over your head, and concrete and steel cracked like paper, and the sound was deafening and disorienting and it felt like oxygen was sucked off your lungs, and just like that — in seconds — half of the roof and the wall were gone, and it was all white because— because— the sun is still up! The sun was up and your eyes weren’t used to the brightness, and there was dust in your mouth which made you cough, and your head hurt and you didn’t know what was happening— what—

What—

There was a guy.

And he was floating.

Your brain was overloaded with information. You had stepped on a mutant rat. You had been kidnapped. You spontaneously combusted in black flames. The place where you were exploded. And now—

There was a guy floating meters above you, from the immense hole caused by the explosion. Like, an actual person. Floating.

Your ears were buzzing, your eyes were still adjusting to the sudden sunlight; for some moments, all you could see was a silhouette. And for a second, one of the little people in your head breathed out in awe and disbelief: Jesus?

It wasn’t Jesus.

Jesus didn’t have white hair, as far as you knew.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, confused and disoriented, the extremely high pitched buzz still ringing in your ears; it felt that your head was underwater. Sounds were muffled. You didn’t really see the moment he — Albino Jesus? — got down, but all of sudden he was hovering over you — his torso leaning down to look at you closely, his feet on each side of you.

“Looking” was a bit of a stretch.

He was… blindfolded?

And grinning.

“Happy to see me?” His deep, lighthearted (?), excited voice reached your ears through the buzz. You couldn’t help but note how his teeth were so perfectly white, the complete opposite of katana guy.

“What—?” You managed to mumble somehow, still feeling the horrid taste of dust in your tongue.

“Nah, no need to get emotional. We ain’t got time for this.”

He offered his open hand in your direction, and for a moment you thought he was helping you to your feet… but you heard a strange zzuup, an inescapable attraction, and then suddenly you were off the ground without doing any effort – towards his palm. Your back was glued to it as if he was a magnet and you, a coin. You saw yourself weightless, floating beside his body.

You felt like a potato sack if potato sacks didn’t have weight.

No. A potato sack is too nice. He was carrying you like a dog.

Your stomach twirled.

You wanted to take a better look at his face (what was visible of it), but the three guys were up to their feet again and you went cold. What was worse: the three kidnappers, or floating Jesus?

However, their reactions took you completely off guard.

They took protective stances. Their expressions weren’t mocking or relaxed anymore… they were… scared?

Frightened, in fact.

“Oooh?” Floating Jesus hummed in that same excited tone again. His voice seemed to be naturally loud. “You want this nurse so bad that you’re willing to fight me for her?”

What?! I’m not a—

“This is fucked up, man,” baby voice guy stuttered. “It wasn’t on the contract that we’d have to face Gojo Satoru.”

Floating Jesus pointed his finger at baby voice guy.

“So you’re not willing to fight. At least someone’s honest!”

Your brain didn’t properly register what happened next, partly because it couldn’t believe it.

Space around baby voice guy’s body twisted; it was like looking at someone’s warped reflex on rippled water. But that wasn’t simply a warped reflex or an illusion. He yelled in pain, a yell that came from his guts — and you watched in real time as his arms and legs warped with the twisted space around him, heard the nauseating noise of his bones crushing in different angles, saw the blood splashing from his wounds and his body falling flat on the floor.

Your jaw dropped.

There was no time to let that image sink in. The other two guys ran in different directions – trying to flee.

Floating Jesus giggled.

Your stomach dropped with your jaw when he moved, dragging your weightless body along; fast fast fast, he moved too fast for your eyes to follow, making everything look like an incomprehensible blur. In the blink of an eye, he was floating again above countless roofs; it looked like a residential neighborhood — and you looked down, and you were too high, way too high, and he wasn’t even really holding you, your back was just glued to his palm and what if he dropped you— what if—

You screamed.

“Don’t shout in my ear, woman.” He whined.

“We’re gonna fall! We’re gonna—”

He had moved again.

You were closer to the street this time and at that point you wondered if your brain was lagging, because how the hell could you be in a spot in a second and in another spot a second later?! You found what he was looking for — katana guy, running down the street at a speed that didn’t even look human. And yet, it was still not match for Floating Jesus.

He stopped in front of katana guy.

“Boo.”

That thing happened again – warped space, warped limbs, screams and broken bones and blood. You wanted to vomit. And he did it again, and suddenly you were in another street, and there was a car? A black car? And a nervous looking guy in a suit standing near the car, and you didn’t know what the fuck was happening, and—

“Megumiii, the last one’s yours!” He said in a sing-song voice. “Don’t let him escape!”

And maybe you heard a familiar male voice saying “understood” before the sound of fast steps echoing down the street.

And then finally, your feet touched the ground again.

Your body had weight. It was heavy, it was tired. Your head hurt, your stomach was still doing twirls, you were dizzy and confused and something inside your brain felt about to explode—

“Case solved! We got the nurse back!” He said in an obnoxiously happy tone— and maybe if you hadn’t noticed with the corner of your eye that he was about to touch your arm, you wouldn’t have done it.

But you did it anyway.

You slapped him.

It was instinctive. Your palm found its way to his cheek with speed and strength that could only be fueled by panic. The slap echoed on the street, turned his head to the side abruptly, made his cheek burn in bright red.

The suit guy gasped audibly.

Even Floating Jesus seemed shocked. Not that you could tell for sure because of the blindfold, but his jaw was dropped.

Yeah, your brain was definitely lagging. You could’ve said a hundred things. A hundred questions. You could’ve tried to run away. You could’ve tried screaming for help.

And yet, the only thing you said – pointing at him angrily as if he had called your mom a bitch — was:

“I am not a nurse!”

That was around a second before your brain completely shut off.

You had time to see the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

And then—

Darkness.

A/N: AND OUR STORY BEGINS!!! GOSH!! So much stuff happens this chapter. But I wanted to start this story with adrenaline!! Next chapter we'll have time to sit down and talk (hopefully) ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊ If you read it this far, please don't forget to leave a comment or interact somehow! Feedback always motivates me to keep writing. Let me know if you guys are excited about the story too! 💞 Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! See you <3

[spookiedookiescrib]

DMC5!Dante Headcanons ´ω`

cw: lil bit of mental health issues + romantic + nsfw stuff mentioned

Dante is not “dumb” ffs he just goes on power saving mode sometimes. Like if he was in school, he would be able to get A's and B's it's just sitting still and studying is not his thing

he's literally one of the kindest character i've ever seen in my entire life and the amount of people who misunderstand him is insane

Spiritually he is ´ω` when he’s in good condition, like imagine getting mad at him when he’s literally ´ω` 

If you observe him closely, he got pretty sad-looking eyes, a gaze that shows many layers of him

i saw somewhere on web that prolonged depression or PTSD makes brain insensitive to threats, making them unreactive in the situation, maybe that’s part of the reason why Dante is nonchalant when it comes to threatening situations because he is suicidal + doesn’t care what happens to him

He’s very good at self control and hiding his emotions

One day he could be horn dog and next day he can be in complete control if he got a job

also if you struggle with mental health, he'd be very patient & understanding about it because he knows what it's like

As long as he’s not beheaded or nuked he’d still survive & heal

Minor injuries take seconds or minutes to heal but major injuries take a whole day to recover

Pet names: babe, sweetie

He has piercing ice blue eyes idc what dmc5 render says, dmc4 got it right

he also got glow in the dark eyes yum

He’s actually quite unsettling if you see him in person for the first time, like you can tell he’s not human somehow

sharp fangs, thicc and veiny, body hair (treasure trail, chest, arm) his hair is extra fluffy and lengthy in my hc

The Sparda gene makes his physique bigger than average people, you can tell that he is built different

Mr.Save the world, he always slipping through the fingers because he has to stop his twin brother or protect this world from the evil. He is willing to sacrifice himself and doesn’t care what happens to him which is very sad :(

In terms of romance, he doesn’t seem like the type to ever say something along the lines of eternity or “i’m yours” type of thing, because he never knows when he has to disappear and commitment is scary (and the whole thing about him being Sparda’s son, it puts his loved ones in danger and doesn’t want anyone to get hurt again)

also him being a hybrid + devil hunter makes him feel like an outcast + he thinks he shouldn’t be involved with people who got normal lives

also he HATES to be controlled or lied to, instant turn-off

but still if he knew that you were the one, he will try his best to be a good partner, he can be romantic as hell

He is capable of love because he knows what it feels like and what it is, but he chooses not to because he has to protect the world and his loved ones

And he can’t guarantee that he’ll be able to give what the other person wants

Smells like gunpowder/grease, metal, musk, vanilla and hint of whiskey

If he could afford water bills he'd take shower more often

Switch, a mix of making love and fucking hard. Nasty and freaky, loves to get messy. Would enjoy getting pegged. Very open to new things.

Most importantly, he bites. He loves to leave marks on you

His stamina is insane and can go on for hours non stop. He’s also very flexible (i mean did you see his leg split in DMC4)

Got size difference and praise kinks. yeah he’s freaky

Secretly loves being babied and acts whiny sometimes (in a cute way)

You can see his childhood personality from here lol

Very self-aware of his problems and thinks that he’d be a horrible partner

He has rotten luck in romance and refrains from any involvement in the future. He was certain that he will be single for life and he’s fine with it. Plus he’s emotionally unavailable

He almost never says “i love you” directly but has his own ways to express it

Random surprise gifts from him, usually something small. It ranges from a bouquet of roses, chocolate box, plush or movie ticket

either sleeps too much or too less, never the right amount

loves creamy desserts and greasy/hearty meals and never gets sick or fat somehow

he can survive without drinking or eating, he needs either human food or blood by choice

Definition of head-turner; if he walks around in public people will either find him hot or unsettling/intimidating

listens to divorced dad rock/metal but also jams to white girl music

Very small thing but i kinda imagined him to have a deeper voice lol

Matt Mercer should voice him as a joke, just for once

[anjian03]

The sun will always be there waiting after the rain 🤍

established relationship bangchan x reader

content: angst, crying, petnames (baby & babygirl), mentions of fear of being intimate, mentions of SA/abuse and just chan comforting reader because of it, fluff + happy ending ofc

WARNING: i repeat, this post contains mentions of reader going through SA so please please, if it’s a sentitive topic and you don’t wanna trigger it please don’t read

this might also be really badly written, but i just wanted to share in hopes it brings comfort for someone who might’ve been through something like this 

promt: reader wants to be intimate with chan but at the same time she’s afraid of it bc she’s been SAed in the past and she finally tells chan about it

there’ve been several times where you and chan have had heated make out sessions, but never has he attempted to touch you anywhere else bellow your waist (and you’re very grateful for that). you guys have never actually talked about this topic. you’ve been going out for a few months and it’s starting to become something you need to discuss, yet you’re terrified of what he would say. you’re terrified he would think you’re broken. that if he knew, he wouldn’t want you that way anymore.

you actually don’t even know if he wants you in that way. yes, you are grateful that he hasn’t made a move passed those make out sessions, but to be honest you couldn’t help but think if that was because he was just being the gentleman he is, or him just not being interested in doing anything else beyond that. cause to be true you DID want sex with him. you desperately want to have the sex life everyone else has cause, i mean your boyfriend is HOT, in fact he’s one of the hottest people you’ve met and he makes you so horny it’s ridiculous. yet you were stick, you were so stuck, cause even if you want him you feel like you couldn’t have him. cause why would he want to be stuck in this messed up situation? when he could have someone that isn’t as broken as you, someone who isn’t broken at all actually. guess you kinda have to talk to him know, cause the more time passes the more it gets in your head, the more time passes the more you actually love him, and if this conversation ends badly… the harder it would be to let go if he decided he didn’t want you anymore.

you were on your friday schedule movie nights, this time taking place in your apartment. you both were now curled up in your sofa under the warmth of your blanket after just having dinner and catching up of what each of you did during the day. after a while you guys turned on a movie on the tv and got comfortable there. the movie was a rom-com so it naturally made you guys be a little clingy towards each other, and just when you were starting to feel at ease in chan’s body warmth it was like your head knew it was overthinking time. why? just why? you thought why does your head does this to you out of nowhere?

without even noticing your body got stiff as you were laying over chan’s chest, he of course noticed so he started rubbing your arm up and down maybe thinking you were cold, but that caused you to slightly flinch and grow yourself small. fuck…

“hey” he said as he slowly pulled you closer to him and looked down at you “you ok, baby?” you could sense confusion and concern in his voice and it made you feel so guilty.

“yeah, i’m ok” you respond as you try to sound as neutral as possible, but still laying very stiff over chan’s body, trying to keep focus on the movie to attempt to ignore all the thoughts in your head.

“you sure baby? you seem really tense…” you didn’t even answer him, there’s was a lot going on in your head, it was like you were dissociating from reality, movie long gone in your head and going back to those times, reliving those moments where you felt the most vulnerable, where you felt small, helpless, disgusting. used…

since your lack of response, he asked “are you cold? is this position uncomfortable?” hearing his voice again made you break your train of thoughts and go back to reality and your current situation. he tried to reach your hand but since now you were aware you avoided it and broke free from his chest, yet you tried to do it as gentle as possible cause you really didn’t wasn’t to hurt his feelings by pulling away from his touch, but you had to be honest. the last thing you want when your head goes those places is to be touch, any kind of touch.

you want to tell him, you want to just get it over with but, how do you even start that conversation? you guys weren’t even doing anything close to sexual, yet you still got all panicked out.

“i-….” you don’t even know what to say, how the hell do you explain yourself?

“is there something wrong, baby? you know you can tell me anything” there was still concern in his voice but now there was care as well.

“i- … c- can i ask you a question?” you felt your heart pounding in your throat

“yes, baby of course” he wanted to hold your hand in hopes to make you feel more at ease, but he got the hint that you didn’t want him to touch you right now.

you took a deep breath preparing to start the conversation you’ve been prolonging. “ha- have you ever…” you stopped mid sentence but he knew better than to rush you so he just waited in silence for you to talk “have you ever wanted.. or… have you ever thought of… going further… than like.. making out?” you said, eyes fixed on the floor. you hate to be the one to bring out the topic for the first time. would he think it’s to soon? would he think you’re desperate?

“i mean…” he started getting nervous at the sudden topic and started giggling to try to hide it and ease the tension “to answer your question yes i have… but if you’re wondering why i’ve never made a move, well… i just wanted to be sure we were on the same page, and i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable if you didn’t want to go there yet”

“oh” it’s all you managed to say. of course chan wasn’t like them, like those people who once took advantage of you, but you still didn’t expect him to be this considered and sweet, he was being so respectful towards you without even knowing your situation, and still you accused him secretly of not wanting you. you felt so stupid for thinking like this and guilty of having this issues while being with someone as sweet as chan.

“why are you asking, baby?” he said in a loving and curious tone. but he somewhat felt that you brought up the conversation for something more serious other than to just ‘be on the same page’ so he started panicking “wait, did i make you feel uncomfortable? i promise i never meant to push you, i’m so sorry if you felt like-“

“wait, no!” you cut him off to his rambling “no, channie. you’ve done absolutely nothing wrong” that made him release a breath he was holding but still he needed to know what was getting you like this.

“then whats wrong, babygirl? i kinda get the feeling you didn’t brought this up just to have ‘the talk’. you know you can tell me anything, right? is there something bothering you?” you still felt like your heart was gonna come out of your throat, but seeing him being so considerate made you get the courage left to just get it over with.

“chan… im about to tell you something that i probably should’ve told you a while ago and i’m so sorry i didn’t do it before. but i i’m gonna ask you to please just don’t say anything until i’m done cause this is already so hard for me. and if at the end you wanna end things then it’s totally okay, no hard feelings, i’ll accept if you don’t want to deal with it cause you totally don’t have to, you’re to good for it and-“

“hey, hey” he says so softly almost in a whispering tone. cutting you off, trying to catch on everything you just said and wanting to calm you down “y/n you’re okay. it’s okay. just take a deep breath with me, yeah?…” he inhales deep hoping you mimic his actions and you do “…and out” and you both exhale. “in again, baby” you do inhale a second time “and out again…” he sighs in relief seeing you more relaxed, as best as you can be right now “that’s more like it, baby” he says as he smiles at you with those beautiful dimples.

he takes a shot and offers you his hand, opening it in front of you and he’s happy to see that you do take it in yours, so he squeezes it slightly to help you ground yourself. “whatever you have to say, it’s okay. i promise i’ll listen till the end, but i promise you i’m not going anywhere, okay?”

“don’t promise…” you say, in a sad tone now, but trying to be realistic and understandable of him “i just want to let you know that you don’t have to deal with it if you don’t want to” you try and keep a steady voice to not cause him any pity but at the end your voice ends up breaking.

“baby…” his heart breaking at the sound of your voice. but he decides not to argue with it “can you go ahead and tell me…?”

you take another deep breath, trying to gather up the courage till you finally speak. “i- i guess. we- we never really talked in depth about my ex… not that we had to but, some things happened and… and i don’t really wanna get into detail but, we were together for a few years but overall, throughout the relationship, he was- he was very manipulative, and toxic, and… abusive… sexually.” you let out a shaky breath before you continue “took me months after we broke up to finally realize that he abused me and… i just wanted to ‘warn’ you i guess, cause… that’s like my only experience sexually speaking, and i haven’t been with anyone after that.” you take a small pause as you stare at the floor unable to look at his face “it happened years ago but… i still get flashbacks some times. and, baby, i’m so thankful that you’ve never pushed me into anything, you’ve done nothing wrong, i haven’t felt pressured at all.” you confess as you lift your face to now look at him in the eyes while you squeez his hand “and i’m not gonna lie… i do want you that way. i’ve been wanting to go further for a while whenever we make out i’m- i’m just afraid that… i guess.. i guess i’m nervous to be intimate again. i don’t want to be doing something and have a flashback in the middle and end up ruining it for me and you too…”

you both stay silent for a moment, letting it sink in before chan speaks up “babygirl…” he starts as he reaches with his other hand to reach yours, so now he holds you with both “babygirl, you are so strong. you’re so damn strong and i’m so fucking mad you had to go through that… cause baby, you are the sweetest, most loving and kind person i’ve met. i can’t imagine someone being so fucked up in it’s brain to do that to you, to hurt you like that” you can see he’s starting to get emotional by how his voice was beginning to shake “my baby, thank you for trusting me to tell me something like this… i just hope you know that it’s not your fault at all, you didn’t have to go through that, baby. and i would never ever do something you don’t want me to, i will never rush you into anything, i’ll never persuade you into anything. but i want you to know that we don’t have to jump into anything you’re not ready for, or that you feel uncomfortable”

you didn’t notice but tears where already rolling down your cheeks. they were inevitable. his words were literally everything you’ve been wanting to hear for years. to be validated. to be seen. to not be the one to blame, cause oh how many times you have blamed yourself.

“babygirl, please don’t cry…” he says as he caresses your knuckles with his both hands. “can i hold you?”

and you nod, because this time you do want his touch. you let down your walls, and you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with him, to trust him in your most intimate self.

he softly lets go of your hand and lifts his arms open wide for you to settle yourself in between them. you gently close your distance with him and you wrap yourself around his torso for you to cry harder against his chest.

you stay like that for a few seconds, with him holding you close, one hand resting on the back of your head, the second one rubbing up and down your back “thank you” you manage to say in between sniffles and hiccups.

“baby…” he starts

“no, chris” you stop him pulling away from his chest, whipping your tears and looking at him “really… thank you. i thought you were gonna want to leave, but you said just the right words”

“baby, don’t thank me for doing the bare minimum” he says as he lifts his hand to put a strand of hair behind your ear “i told you, this was not your fault. there’s no reason for me to leave. i love you so much baby. all i wanna do is make you feel loved, and safe. ever.”

“i love you, chan” you respond after a few more sniffles, feeling more calmed now “but… i…”

“you what, babygirl?” he encourages you.

“i… want to be intimate with you…” you confess a bit embarrassed

“mhm you do, babygirl? you sure?” and you nod slowly with a hint of shyness “i want to try…”

he takes your hand and caresses it again “i want to too, baby. but i don’t wanna rush you. not before and not now that you’ve told me this” he states and you can’t help but think that you won the lottery with this man “how about we take it one step at a time? we don’t go all the way in right away, but we take it one step further each time. how does that sound, baby?”

you nod at him giving him a soft smile “that sounds really nice, baby”

“i’ll just have to ask you something, babygirl” he says and you nod in confusion “communication is key. so you’re gonna have to tell me at all times how fare we go, what pace we go, when we start, when we stop, when we continue and most importantly, your boundaries, baby. i’ll never proceed without your verbal consent, okay?”

you let out a shaky breath, almost as a relieved sigh. not that you were expecting anything bad for him, but still relieved to hear those words coming out of him. you nod again “i love the sound of that” you confess, as you nod again, your smile, growing wider.

“i’m so glad to see that smile back, baby” he says as he brigs his hand to caress your cheek with his thumb in the softest way possible while he smiles too.

you lean in his touch while looking up at him, your sight flicking between his eyes and his lips “i love you, chris”

“i love you too, babygirl” he noticed your eyes flicking but he doesn’t make a move, he just stares at you the same way. his hand not leaving your soft face.

but you lean in closer, you lean in making a small pause when your lips are slightly touching, you rest your forehead against him before finally closing the distance between your two sets of lips. and this time feels different, you don’t quite know if it’s a new type of intimacy, if it’s a deeper love, or if it’s desire. but you know that you’ve finally found your sun, you’re finally where you needed to be.

💌: this has been sitting incomplete in my drafts for like a year and a half. i never intended to published it, it was honestly just my way of releasing my thoughts and finding comfort but it’s only now that it felt right to finish it and even tho it’s incredibly scary, i did decided to share.

to the writers with SA comfort in their stories, just wanted to say thank you for giving me the courage to actually do this. this feels so personal and scary to put out there but i feel like i healed a bit more <3. and to readers who have suffered from SA/abuse, just know that it’s NEVER your fault, don’t blame yourself for what other people did to you, you’re not alone. if someone needs a safe space to talk, my dms are always open <33

english’s not my first language i apologize any mistakes!

╰┈➤ Masterlist

: ̗̀➛ Requests open!

[holdinsteddie]

prompt: scarf

(for @miss-bushido , originally posted on bsky here)

[cw: omegaverse]

Okay, so.

The thing is— well. Eddie doesn’t really know what the thing is, is the thing.

Let’s backtrack: Eddie is an omega. Not a very typical one, mind you, but he is one and actually likes being one, despite what others might think.

He loves nesting and scenting his friends and making people feel welcomed and loved. Yes, he can have a prickly exterior and has been known to growl or hiss should the situation call for it (and sometimes when it doesn’t), but the fact of the matter is he’s actually very soft and squishy. A melty-ball of tender omega goop wrapped up in a spikey metal-head exterior. He can be multidimensional, okay?

Anyway. Back to backtracking:

Eddie is an omega.

Steve Harrington is also an omega, much to the surprise of basically all of Hawkins when he’d first presented.

Eddie had been surprised too, until he actually got to know Steve after going through Literal Hell™️ together.

What better pack bonding than defeating an evil inter-dimensional wizard that looks like the human(?) embodiment of an STD, right?

Eddie learned that while he loved being an omega and that it fit him in a way that worked for him, Steve seemed born to be an omega.

Yeah, he could be bitchy, but he loved and cared for the pack’s pups with all the love of the force of 500 moms, give or take. He was like, the epitome of Omega Mom. Always making sure that everyone was properly scented and well fed and had unlimited access to the pack nest he’d set up in his house. And during the winter, he was wrapping everyone up in scent-thick winter gear.

The pups (re: Mike) had complained exactly one (1) time about it. Steve hadn’t said anything, but had looked so sad that Robin had growled in the way that only pissed-off alphas can and had scared the shit out of everyone present. (Eddie included).

Anyway, sorry, keep getting distracted. All of this to say: Eddie is confused.

Because Eddie is an omega, and Steve is an omega, and if it were anyone else, Eddie would think that he maybe possibly might be… being… courted?

Because, that— that’s what it’s starting to feel like.

It had started a few weeks ago, when Steve had wrapped a scarf around his neck before sending him off to play with the pups in the snow. It was thick and warm, a deep black color with delicate silver accents only visible when you look closely. It was beautiful and had smelled so strongly of Steve’s woodsmoke-and-basil scent that he had kept his nose buried in it the entire time he’d worn it.

And if he’d sighed despondently when he’d hung it back up in Steve’s coat closet, that was between him and God.

(And maybe Max. She’d given him a knowing smirk that had drastically increased his blood pressure.)

Which is why he was surprised when, a few days later, he’d finished up his shift at the shop and walked out to his van only to find that same scarf wrapped around the driver’s side mirror.

He’d stared at it for a moment before slowly approaching and carefully unwrapping it.

And because he was a weak, weak man, he’d immediately brought it up to his nose and inhaled deeply. God, he loved Steve’s scent so much — it made him think of dinners cooked over a fire, hearty and warm and home.

Eddie hadn’t thought about it much at the time, and had brushed the sudden re-appearance of the scarf as Steve being extra thoughtful and doing rounds on the pack.

Eddie had worn it home (and maybe had snuggled it a bit, shut up Wayne) and then the next day he’d made sure to drop it back off at Steve’s.

But then it had reappeared the next day, this time at the coffee shop waiting for him at his usual spot.

And it kept reappearing, anywhere and everywhere, no matter how many times he returned it to Steve’s.

Which is how we get to now, with Steve standing in Eddie’s room, just outside his nest with an angry pout on his face and his hands on his hips, and Eddie having no idea what the fuck is going on.

“Why won’t you accept my courting gift?”

Eddie understands each of the words Steve said individually, but he can’t for the life of him comprehend what Steve is actually saying to him. “…What?”

Steve huffs before holding out the scarf he’d apparently been holding the whole time.

The familiar black wool with the silver thread causes Eddie’s heart to skip a beat or three, and all Eddie can do is stare at it. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a part of him is screaming courting gift?? cOURTING GIFT??!! on repeat.

“What.” He gives himself a mental pat on the back for actually being able to get a single coherent word out.

The hands holding the scarf drop a little. “Look, I just—“ Steve starts, and Eddie tears his gaze from the scarf to Steve’s face.

He’s shocked to see that Steve looks… nervous, but not in a good way. “Is it— Do you— Do you not like the gift? Because I can get you something different. I’d already started making this before I’d thought to ask Robbie what I should get you but she said you’d lo— you’d like it and I thought— I just—“

Steve takes a deep breath and Eddie thinks he’s forgotten how to breathe entirely. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Steve keeps his eyes closed as he quietly continues, “I just need to know if you’re, if you’re rejecting the gift or if you’re rejecting me.”

A wounded noise punches itself out of Eddie, and before he can think, he’s tackling Steve into his nest.

Steve goes down with an oof but otherwise doesn’t resist as Eddie begins to shuffle him and his nest around until Steve is at the center, surround by all the softest and most comfortable parts of Eddie’s nest.

“Eddie?”

“Steve.” Eddie cradles Steve’s face between his palms and looks down into beautiful, confused hazel eyes. “Stevie, baby, honey, I am so, so fucking stupid.”

“Hey,” Steve retorts, brows furrowed, and Eddie wants to consume him whole.

“No, shut up. I’ve been stupid, Stevie, so stupid. You wanna know how stupid?” Steve opens his mouth but Eddie doesn’t let him answer. “I had no idea you were trying to court me.”

The way Steve freezes underneath him would be comical if Eddie didn’t feel like he was about to vibrate out of existence.

Steve blinks at him. Eddie blinks back.

“…you really didn’t know?” Steve looks so genuinely perplexed that Eddie can’t help the hysterical laugh that barks out of him.

“Didn’t have a fuckin’ clue, sweetheart.”

Steve blinks again, and his face smooths out. “Oh.” Then Steve looks up at Eddie through his lashes and Eddie wants to launch himself into the sun. “So, if I tried to give you the gift now…”

Between one blink and the next, Eddie grabs the scarf and wraps it around his neck way too many times. “Steven Harrington I am never taking this off ever again.”

Forget launching himself into the sun, all he needs to do is look at the way joy blooms in Steve’s expression to feel like he’s on fire. “Yeah?” Steve breathes.

Eddie nods vigorously, and because he feels so happy he could float, he flops over on top of Steve and attaches himself like an octopus.

“You’d better court the hell out of me, Harrington, ‘cause I’m gonna court your ass off.”

Steve laughs, and Eddie can’t wait to never get tired of the sound.

send me a 📝 and a one-word prompt and i will try and write a lil microfic for you!

[zumitosinazucar]

Sooo, I decided to write. For the first time, so, please don't lynch me. Pretty please 🙏 . Also I wrote this and didn't care enough to read it again after finishing it, so it might be shitty from that and my bad english. Please give me your opinions on it 🤓

Summary: Pedro comes back home to you, his girlfriend, who is apparently very mad with him after an out of context picture reached her.

Warnings: I have no idea what I'm doing so probably missing some. Angst? I guess, fluff, Pedro being touchy like hell with EVERYONE, reader getting a bit jealous (it's valid, I swear), crying from impotence, angry crying, cheating mentioned. And that would be it (I hope)

Pedro's always been touchy, you knew that, and it had never been a problem. You didn't mind him kissing the cheeks of his co-stars, hugging them for a little too long, his hand on their back. It was fine and you've never been mad jealous about it, just sometimes it made your stomach pinch and your heart ache a little. But you told yourself it was not a big deal.

Not a big deal till that night.

You were laying on the couch of your shared living room watching a movie, waiting for him, and the photo reached you.

Your friend had sent you a picture of Pedro at the party of some actor you haven't really heard of at all from other people, just from your boyfriend. Pedro was sitting between two of his co-stars, and there was something that made your blood boil. Another actress was sitting on his lap. He wasn't even bothered by it, he was just looking at his buddy to his right. And there she was, right on his legs.

Who does she think she is? She knows he's not single. She knows you two are together. What the hell is wrong with her?

And more importantly. What the hell is wrong with him? Not even a surprised look on his face. Not a disgusted glance at her. He just let her sit there like she owned the him.

You were fuming with rage when you heard the keys on the door. Oh boy it was coming.

You raised from the couch, hands closed into fist on either side of your body.

He came into the living room, didn't look like he drank anything apart from water. And he looked way to comfortable for your liking.

"Hey there, mi niña bonita. How was your night without me? Missed me" he said while pushing off his shoes and taking off his jacket. When he finally looked at you, his smile dropped, quickly getting closer to you. "Honey, everything okay?" He asked in his soft concerned tone.

Your eyes became watery just from looking at him seeing you like this. You moved fast, grabbing the phone from the couch while talking to him over your shoulder

"No, Pedro. Nothing's okay. What is this, huh?" You lifted your phone just before his face. "That "friend" of yours sitting in your lap in the party you said you didn't even want to go to" a tear rolled down your cheek.

Fuck, why did you have to be like this? Couldn't you be mad like every other person, you had to cry, the impotence being too much.

"Baby. That is not what it seems" he replied lifting his hands in front of him. Of course it wasn't what it seemed. It never was. " I know it doesn't sounds believable, but, I swear-"

"Well it seems to me that she was very peaceful sitting on your lap. And you weren't even bothered" you cut him off "I don't think you can explain this to me, Pedro" you locked your phone and tossed it to the table

"Baby, please" he begged almost reaching for you "just listen to me"

"What? You thought that it wouldn't reach me? Or that I wasn't going to care? I've had too many rodeos like this to know my things" tears rolled down your eyes. You were tired of this. It wasn't the first time this would have happened to you. Hell, not even the third or fifth time you've been in a situation like this. And he knew. He fucking knew.

"Please. Just listen to me. I was planning on telling you right after kissing you hello. I knew that they would have got that on camera. And I know, fuck, it looks so fucking bad-"

"Yes it fucking does"

"Hey, let me- Let me explain" he says reaching for his phone on his jeans pocket. "As soon as that happened I left. That wasn't my place. My place is here with you" he says frantically searching for something in his phone "with my beautiful girl" he says looking at you for a second.

"I. You can choose to believe me or not. But, here. Watch this. As soon as I left I sat on the car and talked to whoever was around to send me if they got it on video. Here " he says giving you his phone and pointing at it " baby. She sat on me, and I reacted as fast as fucking Flash, mi Amor. I pushed her off and told her to don't ever do that again. I gave my goodbyes to my people and left like if you were waiting for me here, bleeding to death" he explains as you watch the video.

"Pedro" is all you can say. The video is not very clear, but you can see how she comes from the kitchen, searching for him. And as soon as she sits he looks at her and pushes off. Holy shit he's not lying.

You look up at him, a few tears still rolling down your cheeks. He throws his phone to the nearest place and reaches for you. He's holding your face in his hands, bending down a little to look at you in the eyes, searching for something, for you. He wipes the years with his thumbs

" I would never do anything like that to you. I love you so much I can't be playing around and loose you. Mi Vida, I want to spend my life with you and you only. You're my world. Okay?" He kisses your forehead gently

"I'm sorry, Pedro" she says and throws herself in his arms, wrapping herself's around his neck and shoulders. " I shouldn't have overreacted like that. I should have trusted you"

He wraps his arms around your waist and rubs your back, trying to calm you "it's not your fault. You didn't overreact. Its okay. I love you"

Next thing you know, he lifts you up like a princess, placing kisses all over your face while murmuring 'i love you's after every single kiss he gifts you. He lays you down on the bed, taking off his clothes, ending in just his briefs, to slip into the covers next to you.

He hugs you, burying his face on the crook of your neck "I love you, I live for you. I want you for all my life. And it is a threat. You're like a dream"

"I love you too, Pedro. Thank you for explaining it to me and not freaking out like me" she tries to chuckle, but it's not funny at all

"I'll be here when you need me. Te amo mi vida"

And With that, you both fall asleep, knowing you love and need each other forever

[sunny-knight]

why does Caines obsession with bees have so much potential symbolic meaning what is going on

Cause like okay, it could easily be(e) (HHAHAHAHAH) just a running gag, but it could just as easily have deeper meaning

And it DOES connect with a lot of things we know about Caine, its weird.

Then the fact that he associates himself + Bubble with bees, shown by the fact that he made them both fucking BEE SONAS, opens up this idea to even more ideas which- oop there I go, down to (hyperfixation) hell

Correct me if im wrong cause im not a bug expert, but im pretty sure bees will work even without a queen? Telling from what Pomni said in episode 5, many theorists were right about the company being abandoned. Caine is without a queen, and yet he is working ENDLESSLY. Colonies without a queen are also said to be “doomed” which….doesnt paint a very pretty picture for his situation.

Im interested in how he always draws them without the stinger. Bees are known for being very friendly, unless provoked, but they still have a reputation for being feared because of that “provoked” factor. But he doesn’t even have a stinger. And yet people are still afraid of him and think he’s malicious. This makes me think he doesn’t even have it in him to BE provoked, even with what he said in episode 5, it was an empty threat.

the -10 is also weird, I wonder why he did that, I try to think maybe its like… a loss of points? idk.

The way Bubbles bee sona is drawn is very messy, chaotic, a sketch; while Caines is very methodical and has perspective lines. Theres WAY more too him than your average AI. I do enjoy the Bubble is evil theory, but I enjoy him more as a comparison to what Caine is NOT, which is an everyday NPC.

Its also funny cause of the C&A thing, how yknow- the alphabet- ABC

[redandgreyscale]

Could we have more of rosekiller arguing/having issues with bipolar Barty's meds? I need angst <3

Here you have some angst hope you cry about it <3

Evan is aware a manic or depressive episode can happen even if Barty's taking his meds. It has happened before, that is not new, but he also knows not taking them will immediately trigger one. So now he feels this is his fault.

He hasn't been making sure Barty takes it, not so thoroughly as he would've months ago, because they got better at this, Barty was taking his meds every single day with Evan looking, almost forcing him to swallow the pill the days he didn't think it was necessary. It has been an ugly process, Barty has told him he hates him more times than he can count, and Evan has cried about it more times than Barty has been able to apologize for.

Now, Evan has been giving him a bit more room with the matter. He still looks at the pill container to count them but it doesn't matter if he doesn't see Barty take it, they've built trust.

That is exactly why he doesn't see it coming.

"He's what!?" Evan isn't intending to scream, he doesn't usually scream, at least tries not to.

"I saw him this morning, I'm sure he was throwing the pill down the drain" Regulus explains as distressed as he feels. Fuckfuckfuck. "Do you think this is the first day he's done it?"

And Evan, oh he's been naive. He's been dumb.

"I don't know" Regulus' brows shoot up.

"Didn't you say you were keeping track of it?"

"Yeah, but I—" Evan stops. What is he going to say? I trusted him? He can't trust Barty, not with this. Because even if Barty is trying his hardest to do things right, he can't fully control this. How stupid. "I'll talk to him"

He doesn't see Barty until past curfew, when the boy finally sneaks back to the dorm with a mischievous smile. Oh Evan doesn't like what he's about to do.

"So, how long have you been throwing away your medication?" He asks without warning the moment the light flicks on. He's so, so tired of this.

He's also very aware this is not the best way to deal with it, but they're going to fight about it one way or another so better have it done as soon as possible.

Barty's smile fades the moment the question's out.

"I am not doing that, you have checked, right? I'm taking it" he's a good liar, remaining calm for now, and Evan would believe him in any other situation.

"Regulus saw you" he deadpans, the mentioned boy stirs on his bed and sits up, now in the discussion too. Barty's face does something horrible, going through too many emotions all at once only to lay on the one he always does. Anger.

"You fucking prick!" it takes two long strides to get to Regulus, who looks completely unsurprised by this, he's been doing it longer than Evan anyway "You're making up things now? You don't know what you saw, you didn't see anything!"

"Barty!" Evan calls at him the moment he grabs Regulus' shirt. He turns around to look at him, a wild animal ready to bite "you're talking to me, leave him alone" and surprisingly enough Barty does, not without shoving him down to the bed again. "When did you stop taking it? And don't lie to me"

Evan stands too and walks to him, meeting in the middle of the room. "I don't need it!" Barty pushes him back, so Evan takes a step back.

"When?" He asks again, not backing down on this.

"Why do you have to control everything I do? Leave me alone!" And lastly, it comes down to the same it always does.

"I won't leave you, I care for you" Evan tries, his voice softer now.

"You're controlling me, stop trying to control me, stop" Barty's taking steps back, one, two, three, hands tugging at his own hair, looking frantically around him. Evan follows each step until he's backed on the door.

"I am trying to take care of you"

"I hate you" Barty lowers himself to the floor, he's not looking at Evan and he's for sure hurting his scalp by how hard he's tugging at hair. Evan's hands come to his.

"I love you"

It takes a while, Barty has a full on breakdown. They don't sleep for the whole night, and the next day he sleeps through all of it. Eventually it's a team effort getting him to agree to take his meds again, and the trust they built is broken again, so Evan makes sure he's actually doing it for that full week. At least it's less violent the next one.

[joelmiller-lover]

Immune

summary; You were bit while on patrol, and you dodge a bullet. Quite literally.

word count; 872

ao3 link

warnings; angst, angst with happy ending, younger reader (late 20’s / early 50’s), boys kissing, i can’t write angst to save my life

a/n; i had to i JUST HAD TO!!!! i’ve been writing smut and fluff all the time, i must write the angst guys. also im not a huge fan of literal 30 year age gaps BUT BUT BUT the only way this story would work (if we go by ellie’s immunity) is if the reader was born after the apocalypse.

masterlist

Joel had met you in Jackson, you had been raised there since you were a young teen. Joel had shown up when you were celebrating your 27th birthday and you tried your absolute best to not practically drool over the man. He was the talk of the town, between girls and guys. But he was gone by the next day. Part of you wondered why the hell he came and then just left with the young girl he brought, but it wasn’t like you could ask him. So you waited till he came back, and made him a ‘welcome basket’ (being was just coffee) He gracefully accepted it and invited you in for a cup

After you two started to spend most of your time together, Joel started taking you on patrol with him and Ellie. One time, the one fucking time he leaves Ellie at home everything goes to shit.

It started like any good patrol, you two got to the town in one piece, and to the mall. He always went into stores first, checking behind every damn thing. He knew if by some miracle he was bit, you’d watch over Ellie and make sure Tommy was okay. You’d protect his family for him.

While you two were clearing out the grocery store at the very bottom of the mall, Joel clearing out the food and you clearing the other shelves. You two were both laughing and just enjoying the time. It was hard to find time to yourself.

On the way out of the shop with your bags full, you heard the groaning of a runner. Before you could call out to Joel it lunged at you, taking a chunk of your shoulder. You screamed out in pain, pushing it away with your other arm. Joel wasn’t far behind to kill it, and for a split second, you could tell he wanted to aim his gun at you.

Joel helped you up and got both of you the fuck out of there. Adrenaline filled your body as you felt the warm blood fall down your shirt. When you two got back to the truck he helped you put the bags into the bed of the truck, then cocked his gun and pointed it at you “It was supposed to be me. You were supposed’ta watch over Ellie when I died, now who the fuck else is going to watch her?! Tommy? He’s got his own shit!”

You froze and put your hands up “No Joel- Look I’m okay!” You weren’t sure how the fuck to explain it to him. “Joel I’m about to toss you my gun and knife. Don’t you fucking shoot me” He took his finger off the trigger for a second. You took out your gun and knife, tossing them to him. You undid your belt and slid down your jeans, showing an old bite scar, just like Ellie’s, plastered on your thigh.

Joel kept his gun on you while he got closer, inspecting the scar. “You’re fuckin’ with me. You’re fuckin’ with me!” He knew Ellie was immune, but more immune people? It wasn’t possible, there was no way. He put his gun back up to you “I’m not lettin’ you hurt Ellie”

You kept your hands up as you cried out “I’m not going to hurt her! She’s like a kid to me- Please Joel just trust me…” He wanted to, more than anything. He wanted to trust the face he fell in love with, the eyes that never lied to him, the mouth that would ramble his ears off. But he didn’t know who to trust anymore. With his luck you could die quick by him, slow by turning because you lied, or not at all because you told the truth. The situation was fucking with his head.

Joel grabbed your wrist and drug you up to a store that had the one entrance. He locked the doors and zip tied you to a pole “Say you’re telling the truth, you’ll still be here by mornin’. If you’re lying I’m letting you fuckin’ turn and leaving your ass here” You nodded as Joel sat across from you with his gun still point blank to your head. You knew he wasn’t joking.

Come morning you were fine, not a single sign that you were infected. Joel was still in the same spot when you woke up, gun still in his hand but it was more towards the floor now. “Fuck..” You were still on edge with his gun out, but it was better at the floor than your head. “I wasn’t lying see?” You moved your shirt around to show the bite on your shoulder “I saw. I was lookin’ all night”

Joel put his gun away and uncut you from the pole, immediately getting down to your level, cupping your cheeks and kissing you so gently you’d wonder if your lips actually touched. “I was so fuckin’ scared of losin’ you. I thought I’d have to kill you and tell Ellie why the hell your blood as all over me. She’d hate me even more” Joel spoke with his lips still right in front of yours “Don’t fuckin’ scare me like that again”

[seafoam-taide]

I want so badly to be writing fic about The Whole Situation but its evading me so bad so you all will continue to get dumbass inaccurate comics

And this 💕 the best part about all of this is I get to finally do my favorite thing (shattering a character's incredibly flawed perspective in one fell swoop and forcing them to get back up again) to soooul yaaay. Have 1 million heart attacks boy

Extra rambling about my thoughts below

In the process of drawing this had more thoughts on how exactly The Situation goes and works. And i want to talk about it

Okay so obviously this is the part where my shit goes from 'really weird version of the album story' to 'none of this shit happened remotely'. I know I posted a comic that directly contradicts what I'm about to say but that was a for fun what if. Bc I need to draw soul suffering at least once a day. But anyway so. Shit. Fuck. Just realized I also need to actually Explain what the hell is up with the fake whole first

So like I said in previous words post soul is lying always to himself and. Haha. Well. His selves. Which means he's either struggling to be a person in real life or he's playing a role inside his own head 24/7. He has No one to talk to and Never feels safe to let his guard down. So whenever he isn't chasing down the other two or trying to people he's just holed up somewhere dissociating and spiralling so bad. And at one point he starts venting aloud to himself to at least pretend anyone was listening. But then he got embarrassed about talking out loud to no one so he was like ! Idea. I'll just pretend like I'm talking to myself but when I'm normal. Bc me when I'm normal would tell me to stop freaking out over every little thing 💕 I'm so smart.

And that's just. A thing he starts doing and never stops doing. And he's pretty much like "might as well atp" about it bc he already views h&m as the same thing. Only fair to make up a him that will be nice to him. (And then he uses that to beat himself up further at his lowest point in the cycle but shhh)

Anyway 👍 one cycle for whatever reason- bc and I won't get into this but the cycles also progress like. They Do remember them somewhat. Things change progressively. Sometimes worse sometimes better. So one cycle his lowest point is Very low- he still can't genuinely bring himself to. Actually dying. But during one of his vents he spirals about wanting to never have to deal with any of this again and to just exist without having to be him. And he's like "oh. Soul's the one that has to do all of this. I just have to not be soul. I just have to make soul like i made the others" <- he loves depersonalization its like a sport to him. So he attempts to do this. It does not work bc unfortunately he IS soul and soul is already real.

And he's immediately like oh my god why did I do that I'm not allowed to do that you're so fucking stupid but also sad bc he's still himself (and also scared bc of the Implications) and then he looks over and uhhhhhhhhh uh oh. That's a guy. Like a real guy. What. What? What???

And then from there it's a huge ordeal but eventually it results in them all actually communicating and existing as a normal fucking system instead of violently repressing it every other week and erasing nearly all progress they make.

Also also to add. Thought about it. Regular concord in the cycle they shouldn't really be like. Fully unmasked flourishing. So heart & mind are still just Afflicted instead of fully embracing themselves. Soul barely fucking changes at all. The awesome fun creature designs they can only get during The Whole Situation 💔 sad.

Okay 💕yay 💕 I'm done for now. I recognize it's late as hell rn you better believe I'm reblogging this in the morning

[elgascreamslikehell]

I decided to proceed my marathon.

And... well it doesn't go well?

I mean...

You'll see

I swear it's one of my favourite pieces so far btw.

Mason slips down the ladder. He should not have been on this ladder in the first place that was all on Eddie. Kinda. Ok, not all. It should have been Buck, cap asked Buck to go there. There's heavy rain and a storm is starting, it's not the task for a newbie of course. But Eddie… He got so pale for some reason and said that they're on this. They both. He and Mason. They don't need Buck near that ladder. Eddie can do it himself and Mason knows what to do down there. Apparently there's some story behind. He should ask if he gets out of this situation. And they were on this, Mason actually thinks they're rocking it. And he even didn't let Eddie go upstairs cause he's on this, right? He can run the stupid ladder! And Eddie should actually acknowledge his abilities. Why in the first place he was so stubborn to go there himself. So even if he violates the order now - they'll see what he's capable of! Maybe he even finishes his probation early! But then he just missed the step. Hell, that's pathetic. Yet he still can finish his probation early but for very different reasons. He missed the step and now he's hanging on the rope in the heavy rain and it should be quite a cinematic scene to be fair. And what's next? Okay maybe Eddie got a point. Maybe it was… ‘It was fucking stupid O'Reilly!!!’ - he hears Eddie's voice even with his radio off. Eddie catches him near the ground and can't stop screaming and somehow his face is even paler than before and what the hell his hands are shaking? ‘You violated a direct order and hell you will see the consequences!’- it looks like Diaz is this close to actually punching him and even Buck is coming to stop him. Buck is also quite pale by the way, that's interesting, there definitely should be something behind.  ‘One more time you do something like that and I swear you out of here so quickly…’ - Eddie is still yelling but then suddenly he hugs him? Really? Just…hugs? In the middle of the rain with the storm around? That is definitely a very cinematic scene. But after Diaz just goes away to the engine. And he doesn't look back once! ‘We’ll talk at the station’ - even Captain Nash looks nervous: ‘And trust me you won't like this talk’. You don't get it. Eddie finally acted as if he's a real person with real emotions and now Mason is pretty sure he has a shot.

Taglist is as always short and powerful!

@pirrusstuff @steadfastsaturnsrings @idealuk @maddieee0415 @avi-mi @eveseversomessyblog @amymarchsupporter @jenzzyuk @markseasoning @awayto-wonderland @fanfictionist13 @the-wonder-in-his-eyes

[priest-of-light]

I want to take a moment to expand on what I wanted from season 3 in terms of the ideological battle between Gi-hun and the Front Man. I'd love to write a fic for it, but since realistically I dont think that's going to happen, I'll have to settle for this:

The season starts mostly the same. Gi-hun is depressed and suicidal and has given up. Honestly him projecting his anger with himself onto Dae-ho works too

In the fourth game, Gi-hun still tries to track down Dae-ho, but during the course of running from Gi-hun, Dae-ho ends up in a situation where he chooses to sacrifice himself to save Jun-hee, which Gi-hun witnesses. Dae-ho is able to "redeem himself" in his own eyes for having "failed everyone" before

Jun-hee doesn't go into labor and have a baby and then GET UP AND WALK all within a 20 minute time span that's fucking stupid, so she ends up having the baby between the fourth and fifth games

I think probably Yong-sik dies somehow sacrificing himself for his mother as well. I mean narratively its just weird that Geum-ja tells Gi-hun about how she always criticized her son for being too soft, and then she kills him when he finally gets up the nerve to kill someone? I understand it was to protect Jun-hee and the baby, just a weird choice to have established that conflict previously, so maybe they still swap roles and everything plays out the same except in the end Yong-sik and his mother are alone so its him choosing to die rather than kill her and she can be crying and telling him to kill her so he can live and criticizing (with love/doesnt actually mean it) him for still being so soft after all this time

Hyun-ju still helps the others but she doesnt die for it bc Myung-gi doesnt go on a fucking murder spree

Oh and Min-su doesnt become a drug addict this will be important later trust

As mentioned, Jun-hee has the baby between games

Geum-ja probably still kills herself bc of the foreshadowing of "you'd be fine without me but I couldn't survive without you" dont love it but.

I think 5th game more or less proceeds the same way, with the key difference being that when the VIPs start talking about making the baby a player, we get SOME sort of reaction from In-ho that shows at least his conflict over it, even if he ultimately allows the rule to stand (why??? The detail about his wife being pregnant and seeming protective over Jun-hee if you weren't going to give us that AT LEAST)

Gi-hun finds a reason to live in this baby hes so mama

Rip Nam-gyu you were so fucking funny in s3 but I do think the 5th game was the right place for you to die

Hyun-ju, Myung-gi, Min-su, Gi-hun, the baby, and 1-5 others (Os like 100 and 226) are the finalists. I say 1-5 because either there's 5 Os and they're still being out-voted OR there's like 3 Os left but In-ho takes away their ability to vote after the 5th game like "you came this far you have to finish now" or Gi-hun lost his right to vote or something. Basically a reason for the 6th game to happen. The key being here that Hyun-ju, Myung-gi, and Min-su all continue to vote X. Also a reason for why they can't vote to end in the middle of game 6 like he tried with Sang-woo

Here's where the biggest change happens: when Gi-hun and In-ho have their confrontation, it's longer and more developed. Gi-hun at LEAST learns that In-ho was telling the truth about his wife and that he himself was a player in 2015. This is kind of key in Gi-hun seeing In-ho as different from the VIPs (hes a class traitor metaphor guys)

Most importantly, however, instead of the knife proposition, In-ho gives Gi-hun this proposition instead: if player 222 wins, then In-ho will let the losers of the 6th game live.

Essentially, player 222 is entirely dependent on Gi-hun in order to win, but Gi-hun can't fight or really DO anything with her in his arms.

Ergo, GI-HUN is dependent on the other players if he (and therefore 222) want to win.

Do you get what I'm putting together? That we can only succeed when we help each other?

But, In-ho gives the caveat of their private game that Gi-hun cannot tell the other players about these terms.

"Do you still have faith in humanity? Do you still believe people will willingly sacrifice themselves for this random baby they don't care about? Would you stake your own life on it?"

Maybe he even gives Gi-hun the opportunity to just leave the game then and there, but ONLY him and not the baby

So Gi-hun agrees to the terms

The 6th game is possibly just squid game again? Otherwise it's some other team game

And yes, as mentioned most/all of the 1-5 Os are more or less fine with killing the baby to live.

Myung-gi dies protecting Gi-hun/the baby, and probably all of the Os except possibly 1

So ultimately we get down to Gi-hun, Min-su, Hyun-ju, baby, random O but importantly they're still on two different teams

Actually I think its probably literally Gi-hun and baby on one team and the other three on the other team. By all accounts, the VIPs think it's a done deal now

Except Hyun-ju stares at Gi-hun, who has shown time and time again that hes willing to DIE for this child. And then Hyun-ju takes the first step, some sort of move that would let Gi-hun win like stepping out of bounds or whatever so she's out-of-the game

And Min-su sees this. Min-su who watched Nam-gyu kill Se-mi and has felt so much guilt since that moment for not doing something to help her. And Min-su decides to follow Hyun-ju's lead. He steps out of bounds and eliminates himself, even as he's trembling in fear because he doesn't want to die

Either the final O has a change of heart in seeing this or Hyun-ju just straight threatens to kill him or something idk but the conclusion is that Gi-hun (and player 222) have won

The VIPs are baffled. In-ho is SHOOK because here it is, what Gi-hun has spoken about again and again. People can be good. People can be selfless. Not everyone. Not always. But sometimes.

He keeps his promise. Jun-ho/the coast guard show up so he still blows up the island but he helps the players escape and later get their money in recognition of conceding to Gi-hun as the ideological victor

He ambiguously dies on the island/fakes his death

Bonus inhun ending: he shows back up in Jun-ho/Gi-hun's life and he wants to help raise the baby so he and Gi-hun end up co-parenting and living together like the parents in Sister Sister (platonic at first but we know where its going)

I didn't hate s3 or the ending, I would even go so far as to say I liked it, but there were elements I was disappointed by.

Enough ppl have talked about the lack of follow-through on the build-up of the In-ho/Gi-hun conversation (and Gi-hun never learning anything more!), Jun-ho not really doing...anything, the no-eul subplot taking too much focus, and the mild misogyny of the writing

But one of the things I havent seen discussed is the players? Im honestly just really sad by how selfish the players continued to be like it just felt OVERWHELMING. Idk I had this idea in mind of enough of the finalists choosing to save the baby even if it meant their death but in the end it was a bunch of no-name characters and they were all IMMEDIATELY on board with killing the baby. I guess the point was meant to be that no matter how hopeless the world seems, you have to keep finding hope, anyway, but it felt like it was almost doubling back on the entire point of characters like Mr. Kim and the broker, that humans are complicated and they're not all good and they're not all evil but that most people will choose to do good when given the chance. Gi-hun told In-ho that people don't always do what you think they're going to do, but in the end the only person to truly surprise In-ho was Gi-hun. I guess I wanted him to see that in other people, too.

[alxastrx]

When you're one of the most selfish mc who only saves people because it's part of a job you never wanted and did not get to chose or you would've died, who took your co-workers' morals and ideals because you didn't have any and desperately wanted to fit in somewhere, be it with the heroes or the villains, who's activelly haunted by one the most tragic past to have been created and suffer from a psychosis so bad (dare I say schizophrenia) that even your enemies acknowledged that you are mentally ill and objectively flawed in your judgement, never hesitated to try to kill anyone and has the most egoistic reason to be a good person but the fandom still thinks you're just a kind crybaby "I don't know what a gun is" homosexual twink.

[dunmeshiminimumwage]

back when i worked at [large chain coffee store], i tried to unionize my workplace. my manager sat me down and gave me a very guilt trip-y talk. lots of "but i thought we were a family :(" and "you don't *really* know what unionization does, do you?" i played dumb and managed to avoid being fired, but. chilchuck momence.

[buckbuckleyscouch]

crazy to me that eddie was an entirely reasonable level of frustrated at his friend acting genuinely insane and unfair and now some people are trying to stab him with knives about it.