#it is kind of depressing to think about it that way

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 12.9k tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

The minute you, Koji, and Satoru step out of the mall, a small group of five reporters are hounding you guys. It comes as a surprise—a very unpleasant and unexpected surprise. You’ve never been involved in things like this, you’re still not used to it. You never will be. Your steps falter, leaning back and placing a protective hand on Koji’s back to steer him further into your body. 

“Mr. Gojo! Is this your family?”

“Mr. Gojo, what do you have to say about the people who suspect you of keeping it all a secret?”

“Mr. Gojo, were you ashamed or embarrassed?”

“Y/N L/N, how does it feel to have Satoru Gojo as the father to your son?”

The questions are relentless, each one sharper than the last, and the flashing cameras blind you for a moment. Your heart races as you tighten your grip on Koji’s shoulder, your protective instincts flaring. Koji looks up at you with wide, frightened eyes, his small hands clutching at your coat. Satoru steps forward instinctively, his towering frame blocking you and Koji from the onslaught. His usual easygoing demeanor is replaced with a rare seriousness, his jaw clenched and his voice low. “Back off,” he warns, holding up a hand to shield his face. “You’re scaring my son.” 

The reporters barely falter, emboldened by Satoru’s reaction. “Is that confirmation then? He is your son?” one of them presses, leaning closer with their camera.  

Satoru exhales sharply through his nose, his tone now icy. “I said, back off.” He moves with precision, steering you and Koji toward the parking lot. 

Koji clings to your side, his face buried in your coat as he mutters, “Mama, I don’t like this.” 

“I know, sweetheart,” you murmur soothingly, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. “Just keep walking, okay?” 

“Y/N,” Satoru says firmly, his hand brushing your elbow before grabbing onto it with a firm gentleness. “Stay close to me.” 

You quickly pick your son up, holding him tightly to your chest and keeping his small face hidden in your neck. The crowd doesn’t let up, following you to the edge of the parking lot. They’re throwing more questions your way now, their voices rising as if to compete with each other. 

“Y/N, do you think Satoru will take responsibility as a father?”  

“Will there be a public statement?”  

“Koji, do you know your dad is famous?” It’s one thing to ask his son a question, but it’s entirely another thing when that same reporter hounds just a bit too close to you, causing your footsteps to stumble a bit backward in order to not get hit by the obvious camera. 

At that, Satoru stops dead in his tracks, eyes and face flitting with anger, but they don’t even express half of it. He spins on his heel, his height and presence instantly silencing the crowd. His gaze is sharp and unyielding. “You’re done,” he snaps, shoving the camera back, the reporter tripping over his own two feet and falling on his ass. “No more questions. No more photos. If I see any of you near my family again, you’ll be hearing from my lawyers.” 

The authority in his voice makes even the most persistent reporters step back, the one who just fell cradling his camera that now has a broken lens. He waits for a beat to ensure they’ve gotten the message before turning back to you and Koji. 

“Let’s go,” he says, his voice softer now as he reaches for you two. You don’t resist when he takes your hand, holding on firmly as if grounding you. His other is on the small of your back. The three of you walk in silence to the car, leaving the paparazzi behind. He guides you into the passenger seat before strapping Koji in his car seat in the back. Walking around the car to get into the driver’s side, closing the door with an exasperated huff. After a few still seconds, you finally exhale, slumping back in your seat. Satoru glances at you from the corner of his eye, then at the rearview mirror to make sure Koji is okay. Luckily his car’s windows are almost completely blacked out. His expression is unreadable. “You okay?” 

You nod slowly, fingers dancing along your thighs. “I’m fine. Just… not used to this.” 

Satoru’s lips press into a thin line. “You shouldn’t have to be. I’ll handle it.”  

This outing was supposed to be a simple one—a wholesome one. Satoru insisted on taking Koji out, but Koji insisted you come with them. After debating, you decided what’s the worst that could happen? This, apparently. Satoru reaches behind him to place a couple of things he bought for Koji behind his seat. You told him that since it was so close to Christmas, you didn’t see the need to buy things for Koji. His response: “So? I want to spoil him every chance I get.” You understand, in a sense. But you still need to have a proper talk with Satoru about keeping his money and riches to a minimum when it comes to Koji. The last thing you want is for your son to get used to something that you wouldn’t be able to maintain yourself. 

“You okay, Koji?” he asks, looking over his shoulder. He receives a feeble nod from his son, patting his little foot. “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect this to happen.” Satoru’s tone is laced with guilt as he turns to face forward again. Koji’s wide eyes dart between you and Satoru. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again. I promise.”

Koji looks up at him hesitantly before mumbling, “I don’t like the flashing lights, Papa. They’re scary.”

Your heart clenches at his words, peering back and holding out your hand. He takes it and you rub his little knuckles with your thumb. “I know, sweetie. It’s over now. You’re safe with us.”

Satoru exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll do better,” he mutters, more to himself than anyone else. “Next time, we’ll go somewhere quieter. Somewhere they can’t find us.” You glance at him, catching the rare vulnerability in his expression. Despite your frustrations with the situation—and with him—you can tell he means it. His guilt is genuine, and that softens your own edges just a little. He looks like he wants to say something more, but he stops himself, his jaw tightening. He shifts in his seat, his gaze dropping to the steering wheel. “We’ll figure it out,” he says quietly. He turns the key and starts the engine, beginning to drive off.

The rest of the car ride is subdued, the weight of the earlier encounter and the unspoken tension settling over the three of you. Koji eventually drifts off, his small frame relaxing against you, and you lean your head against the window, watching the city lights blur past. You know you have a lot of conversations to do with Satoru that aren’t over—some haven’t even started. There’s so much left unsaid, so much you need to sort out—for Koji’s sake and for your own. But for now, you focus on the steady rhythm of Koji’s humming to the song playing and the faint hum of the car engine, holding onto the fragile sense of calm that has settled, however temporary it may be.

This is the first time Gojo’s getting a good look at your interior decorations. Koji’s watching TV and you’re watching Satoru trying his best not to judge. Outwardly, at least. The decorations you’ve put up are a little uncoordinated, he can tell some are quite old. There are a few things with stains from presumably the previous year, like your tablecloth. The only item he thinks is new is the pinecone-y candle lit in the middle of the kitchen counter. At least something in here is pretty, he looks at you. Never mind, you’re already here. 

“Well…” Satoru starts, and you cut him off as soon as he does.

“I know, you don’t have to say it.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Yes, you were.”

“Then what was I going to say?”

“You were going to judge and put in your unwanted two cents.”

He scoffs with rolled eyes and a frown, arms crossing as he watches you go over to the sink to wash what was left in there from this morning. “Unwanted?” Satoru repeats, his tone is dramatic as he leans against the counter. “I think my two cents are worth at least a dollar, thank you very much.”

You glance at him over your shoulder, arching a brow. “Then keep your dollar to yourself. We’re not taking handouts.”

His lips quirk into a thinner line, and he straightens up, walking over to stand beside you. “Handouts? Who said anything about that? I was just going to say…” He pauses, leaning closer as if sharing a secret. “This place has character.”

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head as you rinse a plate. “Is that your polite way of saying it’s outdated?”

“No,” he shrugs, though he gives himself away with a sigh. “Okay, maybe a little. But it’s not terrible. I kind of like it. It feels... real.”

You glance at him again, this time surprised by the sincerity in his voice. His eyes are scanning the room, and for once, they’re not filled with the usual analytical glint. Instead, there’s something softer, something almost nostalgic. “It’s not much,” you admit, drying your hands on a towel. “But it’s home. It’s all I can manage right now.”

Satoru turns to you, his expression shifting as he studies your face. “You’re doing a good job,” he says quietly. “Better than good, actually. Koji’s happy. That’s what matters.”

His words catch you off guard, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. You’re so used to his playful jabs and over-the-top confidence that this genuine side of him feels… different. Why is he being so nice today? Does he feel bad about what happened earlier and he’s trying to kiss your ass? Yeah, must be that.  “Thanks,” you mutter quietly, meeting his gaze.

He casually lifts his shoulders up and down, the corners of his lips lifting into a small smile. “Don’t mention it.”

The moment lingers, the two of you standing in the small kitchen with the faint sound of cartoons playing in the background. It’s the closest you’ve felt to being on the same page in a long time. And though you don’t say it out loud, you’re grateful for it. That feeling only lasts a second before you remember just how different things are. Clearing your throat, you peek over to make sure Koji is engrossed in his show before speaking to Satoru. “Look, we have to talk.”

He nods, silently gesturing for you to continue. 

“I understand you want to give Koji everything you can because you have that luxury, but I don’t want him to grow up like that, okay? He can have gifts, but you’ve been buying him at least ten new things every time you see him, Satoru. He’s starting to ask me now for toys and books and I don’t have that money right now to spend leisurely. So please, just…keep the gift-giving to a minimum. Christmas is already coming up.”

Satoru listens, his arms crossed and head tilted slightly, a contemplative look replacing his usual playful expression. When you finish, he exhales softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I get it,” he says after a moment. “I do. I don’t mean to overdo it; I just...I don’t know, I feel like I missed out on so much already. Giving him things feels like a way to make up for that.”

You soften at his admission, but you hold firm. “I understand that, and I’m not saying you shouldn’t give him anything. It’s just… he needs to learn that he can’t always have everything he wants. He has to understand boundaries, Satoru. Life isn’t always going to hand him the world on a silver platter.”

Satoru ponders for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek. “But I also want you to understand that he’s a kid, my kid. If I want to buy him things, I’m going to do that. I don’t need to run that by you and ask for your permission, Y/N. You’ve already made enough decisions for me.”

The little remark doesn’t go unnoticed by you. How could it? He’s right, you know that. But does he really need to bring that up right now when you’re trying to handle things like a mature adult and parent? You’re trying to make things better right now, not take his snide comments to face. Your jaw tightens, but you take a calming breath, trying to keep your composure. “I’m not trying to control what you do for him, Satoru. I’m just asking you to think about how it impacts him—and me. I’m the one who has to deal with the fallout when he doesn’t understand why I can’t give him the same things you can.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow slightly, the tension between you two growing heavier. “And whose fault is that?” he asks, his voice lower now. “You’re the one who kept him from me. I would’ve been there, Y/N. I could’ve helped you.”

There it is—the resentment bubbling to the surface again.

You set the dish towel down a little too firmly on the counter, turning fully to face him. “I know, okay? I know I screwed up by keeping him from you, but I can’t go back and change that. I’m doing the best I can now, and I need you to meet me halfway here, Satoru.”

He holds your gaze for a long moment, his jaw clenching and unclenching. Then, he sighs and looks away, his shoulders sagging slightly. “I’ll try,” he mutters, though his tone is tinged with bitter reluctance. “I’ll try to dial it back. But I’m not making any promises.”

You nod, knowing that’s probably the best you’ll get from him right now. “That’s all I’m asking.”

The two of you stand in silence for a moment, the tension still thick but beginning to ease. The faint sound of Koji giggling at the TV filters into the kitchen, a reminder of what really matters. “I just want what’s best for him,” you say quietly, your voice softer now.

Satoru looks at you again, his expression hard to read. “So do I,” he replies, his tone matching yours.

And for a brief moment, it feels like you’re on the same side again. It reminds you that the only thing you two have in common is your son’s happiness and well-being and that Koji is the only reason you have this strained and awkward connection. Co-parenting. You don’t know how some couples did or are currently doing it. Even little conversations like ‘How’s your day?’ feel so forced with him, but you know it’s what comes with the job. What comes with hiding your kid and being tossed into the realm of co-parenting. You don’t have to like him, he doesn’t have to like you. You two are only in this for Koji—and that’s it.

So, why do you feel a small stab to your stomach when an annoyingly familiar name pops up on his screen with an incoming phone call? The picture of them kissing feels like it’s laughing right in your face, fingers curling into your palms as you coerce yourself to look away and pretend you’re busy with something else. Satoru keeps his voice hushed, like he’s trying to ensure you or Koji don’t listen. Only for a moment, you think: he’s acting like he has something to hide. And he shouldn’t. You two haven’t been together in years. But the fact that it seems like he’s trying to lessen whatever blow his relationship has on you, like he thinks—knows you’re not that happy with it, that makes you annoyed. Does he assume he still has the same effect on you? Does he think you still hold some secret feelings towards him?

Is he still as arrogant and conceited as he was before?

Maybe he believes that you’re still hung up on him. Yeah, must be. Because why else would he be apologizing to you after he hung up the phone with her, giving you that sympathetic gleam in his eyes that you recognize all too well. The same look he would give you after he knew he did something you didn’t like or didn’t approve of, and you would reprimand him for it. “I’m sorry, but I have to go soon.”

You nod, biting your tongue to hold back a snarky remark like why are you apologizing? I don’t care. “Just say bye to Koji.”

He nods, putting his phone in his pocket. Lips lying like he’s debating how to bring something up. “Before I go, I was thinking something. Since Christmas is coming up, I…I want to spend it with him, with you guys. If it’s okay, I’d like to come over then. We can cook and open presents together, I’ll bring what I bought for Koji that day.” His tone is cautious, almost like he’s unsure if the idea is good himself, but he pushed through somehow. 

You blink at him, caught off guard by the sudden suggestion. Spend Christmas together? Like some picture-perfect family? It almost feels laughable, considering the complicated mess the two of you have found yourselves in. But when you glance at Koji in the other room, blissfully unaware of the tangled web of adult emotions, your resolve softens. “Christmas?” you repeat, just to confirm you heard him right.

Satoru shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I mean, I know things aren’t exactly…simple between us. But I thought it’d be nice for Koji. You know, give him something to look forward to. A memory he can hold on to.”

There it is again—that maddening mix of arrogance and sincerity that only Satoru Gojo can pull off. You hate that he’s making sense. You hate even more that a part of you wants to say yes. Not for his sake, of course, but for Koji’s. “I don’t know,” you start warily, crossing your arms. “I don’t want him to get confused, Satoru. He’s young, but he’s not stupid. If we start doing things like this, he might think…” You trail off, not wanting to put it into words.

Satoru’s expression softens, and for a moment, you see the man you once loved—the one who could convince you of anything with just a look. “He won’t think anything, Y/N. He’ll just be happy. That’s all I want for him.” He hesitates before adding, “That’s all I want for us.”

You swallow hard, caught between the weight of the past and the fragile threads of the present. “I’ll think about it,” you finally say, your voice quieter now.

His lips twitch into a small smile, relieved. “That’s all I ask.” He doesn’t press further, doesn’t push his luck. Instead, he steps into the living room, kneeling to Koji’s level to say his goodbyes. You watch from the kitchen, arms still crossed, heart still conflicted. The sound of Koji’s chuckles and his own goodbye fills the space as Satoru ruffles his hair, promising to come back soon. When he straightens up and heads for the door, he glances back at you one last time, his gaze lingering in a way that makes your chest tighten.

“Think about it,” he repeats softly before stepping out into the cold. 

And just like that, the house feels a little emptier, a little quieter. You sigh, leaning against the counter as Koji returns to his cartoons, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in your chest.

Christmas. Together. You’re not sure if it’s a recipe for disaster or something else entirely. But, it’s for Koji. It would be his first Christmas with his father whom he looks up to like he’s some kind of superhero. A super rich superhero. It would be wrong of you to deny him of that—them both of that. And like Satoru said, you’ve already made enough decisions for him. 

With a deep breath, you walk on over and sit next to your son on the floor, arm around his shoulders. “Koji?”

“Yes, Mama?” Koji hums back, eyes still fixated on the bright screen.

“I have a question for you.”

At this, he turns his head and looks at you, tilting it in a childish curiosity. “What?” 

You bring him closer to your side. “Christmas is coming up, are you excited?” He nods enthusiastically. You smile and continue. “So, would you like Papa to come over on Christmas? He’ll play games with you and—”

“Yes!” he shouts, scooting closer to your face as he expresses his excitement with vigor. “I want Papa to come! I want Papa to come!”

You laugh softly, though the knot in your chest tightens. Koji’s innocent enthusiasm is infectious, and his wide grin makes it hard to feel anything but love for your son. “Okay, okay,” you say, ruffling his hair gently. “I’ll let Papa know you want him here.”

Koji bounces up and down, clapping his hands together. “Yay! Can we make cookies? And put out milk for Santa? And open presents together?”

“Of course,” you assure him, pulling him into a warm hug, and kissing the top of his white nest of hair. “We’ll do all of that.” As you hold him, your heart aches a little. Koji doesn’t understand the complexities of the situation, nor should he. To him, Christmas is just about family and joy and all the things that make the world seem big and bright. But to you, it’s a delicate balancing act—a chance to give Koji the kind of Christmas he deserves while keeping your own emotions in check. The last thing you want to do is start an argument on that special day and ruin it for your son. Just pretend, that’s all. For Koji. For Koji.

Later that evening, after Koji is fast asleep and tucked in bed, you pick up your phone and hesitate for a moment before sending Satoru a quick message:

Y/N:

He wants you here. Don’t make me regret this.

You put the phone down and stare at the ceiling for a while, wondering what the holidays will bring. For Koji’s sake, you hope it’s nothing but joy. For your own sake, you’re not so sure. A few more days. The buildup, anxiety, anticipation, it’s all killing you slowly. On one hand, you don’t want to see Satoru and pretend you’re all a happy family. But on the other, you know Koji wants him and the same goes for Satoru. You’ve taken away enough opportunities. You’ve wedged a big enough gap between this already small family and if you make it larger, you fear you’ll screw things up for good. It’s the holiday season, it’s not time to sit around and mope about your shitty life. It’s not the time to compare yourself to others and it’s most certainly not the time to brew in jealousy about the fact that Satoru was spending his past Christmases with another woman.  

Shut that off, immediately. 

What it is time for is to be happy you’ve lived to see another year, and happy your son has had a great year. And finally, it’s time to start thinking more about other people’s feelings. Including Satoru’s. 

But, you’ve been doing that this entire time. Haven’t you?

Koji’s last day of school was Friday, now starting his break. “Thank you, Sana. I know the longer hours are a little annoying, but I’ll raise the pay by a dollar.”

“No need, Ms. Y/N,” the younger woman waves you off with a smile, in the middle of coloring with Koji. Her blue-dyed hair pulled up into a lazy bun. “I love Koji, I’ll watch him anytime you need me.”

Your smile turns sympathetic, letting out a small sigh and rubbing her shoulder. “You’re so sweet, thank you so much. You’re a big help around here.”

“It’s my pleasure.” She hugs you back and locks the door after you leave. The morning air feels nice to breathe in, not as cold as it was yesterday. You remind yourself to get a little gift for her. Maybe a gift basket? Or a gift card? Or more money, she’s a college student. 

Walking to work that morning is the same as always. Waiting for the same crosswalk to turn green, passing by the usual bakery and donut shop, seeing that same old man doing his own morning walk. It all feels mundane—normal. Something that feels very much needed, more often than it would have last month. You’re still not entirely used to how much things have been integrated into your life, for the better or worse. Either way, it’s your life now. Time to embrace that in some way. 

Walking into the cafe, you see a few of your co-workers readying and tidying up the place. Giving them a brief ‘good morning’ and nod, you head to the back to place your purse and coat down. It’s a quiet morning today, which is a little odd because usually, you would hear Hana’s fingers typing away on the keyboard to the computer. Or she would greet you hello. Turning your head, you see her; sitting at one of the chairs and completely engrossed in whoever she’s texting on her phone. She has a small, giddy smile on her face, letting out a quiet huff of laughter at what the other person said. “Hey?”

She snaps her head up, locking her phone and standing up. “Oh, hey. Sorry, didn’t hear you come in.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” You raise a brow and chuckle, walking over and nodding your head in the direction of the phone in her hand. “Who’s that?”

“Oh…” her cheeks grow slightly pink, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear in a shy manner. “Um…no one. Just a guy.”

“A cute guy?” You wiggle your eyebrows, and she responds by elbowing you. 

“Not like that, Y/N. I barely know him.”

“For now.”

“He’s just a regular.” Hana plays it off, but the growing smile on her face juxtaposes her feigned nonchalance. 

You grin, leaning against the counter as you cross your arms. “A regular,” you repeat, emphasizing the words with air quotes. “But give it a week, and I bet I’ll be hearing wedding bells.”  

Hana rolls her eyes but can’t suppress the small smile creeping onto her face. “It’s nothing like that. We’ve only been talking for a few days.”  

“And yet here you are, all smiley and distracted at work,” you point out with a playful laugh. “Come on, spill. What’s his name? What does he do?”  

Hana hesitates for a moment before sighing, as though resigning herself to your curiosity. “His name is Naoya. Naoya Zenin,” she admits, the blush on her cheeks deepening. “I think he has something to do with business? Or real estate? He hasn’t said much about his job yet.”  

“Naoya Zenin,” you repeat, testing the name on your tongue. “Have I ever seen him?”

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so. He’s only just recently started coming in because of something like ‘he saw a pretty girl at the cashier and couldn’t resist’.”

You huff. “Sounds like a smoother talker already.”

“Y/N!” Hana protests, swatting at your arm. “He’s not like that! He’s… actually really nice. Sweet, even.”  

You laugh, raising your hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, I’ll take your word for it. But don’t think you’re off the hook. I’m going to need updates. Daily updates. I live vicariously through you when it comes to your love life, you know that.”  

She groans, but there’s a sparkle of excitement in her eyes. “Fine. But only if you promise to keep it between us.”  

“Scout’s honor,” you say with a smile, though you’re already mentally filing this away to tease her about later. “This top secret of yours about your little boy toy will stay between you and I only, no outsiders.”  

Hana nods, but the little smile on her face remains as she pockets her phone and joins you at the counter. Something tells you this Naoya guy might be worth hearing about after all. You think for a moment that it’s a little strange you haven’t ever seen or served him, but he obviously must’ve been in after you leave; sometime in the afternoon. 

You’re curious, rightfully so. Hana hasn’t talked about a guy since the last man, which was about a year ago. You’re glad to see her out on the market again, opening herself up. She and this Naoya guy have only been talking for a few days, but she obviously has taken a quick interest in him. You could only hope he’s feeling the same, and not messing with her feelings. It’s the protective friend in you speaking. 

Time flies before you know it, ringing up customers and making their beloved—but occasionally off coffee drinks. The small tune of the music playing on the speakers quells your mind, giving you something to hum to every now and then. The steady hum of the espresso machine, the clinking of mugs, and the soft murmur of conversations blend into the background, creating a comforting cadence. Customer after customer comes through, each order oddly more specific than the last. The overly tedious ones make you concerned sometimes. There are a few ordinary ones, of course. 

“An oat milk latte, but can you add three pumps of hazelnut, and one pump of caramel, and make it extra hot? Oh, and no foam, please.”  

You resist the urge to sigh, offering a polite smile instead. “Of course, coming right up.”  

Hana, stationed beside you, exchanges an amused glance. “How do they come up with these combinations?” she whispers as she froths milk for a cappuccino.  

“Beats me,” you reply, carefully measuring out the hazelnut syrup. “But hey, keeps us employed, right?”  

The lively beat playing over the speakers catches your attention, and you continue to hum along absentmindedly as you finish up the drink. Moments like these make the chaos of the morning rush feel a little more manageable—a small comfort amidst the constant motion.  

By the time noon rolls around, the rush has died down, leaving the café bathed in a peaceful lull. The scent of freshly brewed coffee still lingers in the air, mingling with the faint sweetness of pastries from the display case. You glance at Hana, who’s leaning against the counter, scrolling through her phone during the quiet moment.  

“You doing okay over there?” you ask, wiping down the counter.  

She looks up, a sheepish grin on her face. “Yeah, just checking my messages.”  

“From Naoya?” you tease, and her blush tells you all you need to know.  

As she laughs and shakes her head, the door chime rings, signaling a new customer. You straighten up, slipping back into your friendly barista persona as you greet the newcomer.  

“Welcome! What can I get started for you today?”

It’s a woman, nicely dressed and a bit older. There are some graying hairs at the front, but she holds her aged wrinkles well. Smiling at you with red-stained lips, lifting her sunglasses up to rest them on her head. “Hello, how are you?”

“Good, how are you?”

“Good,” she hums, eyes wandering up to the menu. “This is my first time here, may I ask what you recommend?”

You nod. “Our cookie butter latte is highly recommended, along with our raspberry matcha and horchata latte.”

The woman’s red lips curl into a thoughtful smile as she considers your suggestions. “Cookie butter latte? That does sound intriguing,” she says, tapping a manicured finger against her chin. “Is it too sweet?”

“It’s a bit on the sweeter side, but we can adjust it if you prefer something less sugary,” you offer.

“Hmm… I think I’ll try it as is,” she decides, returning her gaze to you. “A small one, please. Oh, and can you make it extra hot?”

“Of course.” You punch in her order and give her the total.

As she hands over a crisp bill, she glances around the café, taking in the cozy décor and warm atmosphere. “This place is lovely,” she remarks. “Do you enjoy working here?”

You smile, sliding her change across the counter. “I do. It’s a nice little escape from everything else. And the regulars make it fun.”

“I can imagine,” she says, her voice carrying a certain kindness. “It seems like the perfect place for a little pick-me-up.”

You chuckle softly, grabbing a cup to start up her order. “Of course.”

She watches you make her drink, which is normal for you since many other customers do that too. Either to ensure you’re doing everything right, or that you’re not messing up their order. Or simply they just want to know how to make that drink at home. This woman continues the conversation with you, however. “I love your necklace, it’s very beautiful.”

You glance down at the gold moon, peering back up at her with a thankful nod. “Oh, thank you. I got it as a gift from a co-worker last year.”

“It’s lovely.” She responds, keeping her holy smile on her face. You return the favor before finishing up her drink. Securing the lid on top and sliding a cover on the middle before turning back to her, and handing the drink over. 

“Here you go, Miss. Have a good day.”

The woman takes the cup, but instead of leaving, she lingers, her eyes scanning the café again before settling on you. “You’re very efficient,” she says, her tone thoughtful. “And polite. Not everyone has that kind of composure while juggling multiple tasks.”  

“Oh, thank you,” you reply, slightly caught off guard. Compliments like that aren’t exactly rare, but there’s something in her tone that feels... deliberate. 

She sets the cup down on the counter, her red lips curving into a subtle smile. “Forgive me if this seems forward, but are you happy working here?”  

The question startles you, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to answer. It feels a little invading, but you’re not the type to be outwardly rude to a customer. Unless provoked; but even then, you hold your composure well. “I... I like it. The people are nice, and it’s steady work.”  

“I see,” she says, nodding slowly. “You seem like someone who could do more, though. Someone with potential.”  

You blink, not sure whether to take her words as a compliment or a critique. “Well, I try my best,” you say, keeping your tone neutral., lips pursing awkwardly. 

She reaches into her bag and pulls out a sleek black business card, sliding it across the counter toward you. “If you’re ever looking for a change, my company is always in need of someone capable. We’re hiring for a personal secretary position right now.”  

Your eyes flicker down to the card, where her name and title are printed in elegant gold lettering. Beneath that, the name of a foreign, but well-known corporation—one you’d only ever dreamt of working for.  

Evelyn Carlisle. 

Founder & CEO of:

Carlisle & Harlow. 

Carlisle & Harlow is a luxury lifestyle and real estate industry that specializes in high-end properties, exclusive concierge services, and premium lifestyle management for elite clientele. It has a reputation for catering to the wealthy, ensuring that every detail of its clients’ lives is managed to perfection.

You hesitate, staring at the card. Eyes wide, lips parting and closing in surprise and confusion. It feels like a golden ticket has just been thrust in your face. And for what reason? You have absolutely no idea. “I—I don’t know…”  

“It’s just a thought,” she says smoothly, picking up her latte again. “You’re under no obligation, but I think you’d do wonderfully. If you’re interested, give me a call.”  

Before you can respond, she offers you another one of those warm, knowing smiles and turns toward the door. The second her back is to you, she’s on her phone, texting something. “Have a good day, dear.”  

You stand there for a moment, holding the card in your hand, unsure of what to think. The logo on the card gleams in the café’s warm light, and your mind races with possibilities—and doubts. Could this really be an opportunity, or is it too good to be true? How did this just happen so…suddenly? If her business wasn’t so well known, you would’ve assumed you were being scammed and thrown the card away as soon as she left. But, it feels like an opportunity, nonetheless. 

A bright opportunity that screams money. 

A part of you is still very much hesitant about what just happened, but the desperate part of you is telling your brain to make that phone call as soon as you have the chance. Just think about it, if all of this is authentic, you would have a good-paying job. No more rushing back and forth between two, no more sleep deprivation (hopefully), and you would be a bit more stable. Maybe if you save up enough, you could buy a new place. 

Okay, thinking too far ahead. 

You pocket the card, smiling to yourself. For once, it feels like a small beam of light is being cast your way. Like you’re being chosen. It turns your stomach in delight and excitement. 

But, you can’t stop the lingering, pressing question. 

Why did that feel a little…organized?

“And this here, we have our newest version of RavenX.” 

Yamato nods in astonishment, watching the mechanical crow tilt its head, the red circle in its eye prominent as the crow blinks. Its purple wings demonstrate a high altitude while the screen in front of him and his son shows the view of what the crow is seeing. Satoru stands cross-armed next to his father, silently praising the meticulously engineered drone. 

Mei Mei steps forward, her tone confident and composed as she gestures toward the screen showcasing the RavenX drone's perspective. “The RavenX is designed for both surveillance and tactical operations. Enhanced AI ensures decision-making capabilities in real-time, and the thermal imaging allows it to identify targets even in low-visibility conditions.”  

She turns to Yamato with a faint smirk. “It can operate autonomously for up to 48 hours without recharge and has a flight speed that outpaces any similar product on the market. Its compact size makes it nearly undetectable by radar.”  

Yamato’s lips curl into a subtle smile as he leans closer to examine the live feed on the screen. “Impressive,” he murmurs, nodding slowly. “And you’ve managed to keep the design sleek. Functionality without sacrificing form.”  

Satoru tilts his head slightly, his usual business-y tone replaced with one of genuine curiosity. “What about security? How resistant is it to hacking or signal jamming?”  

Mei Mei casts him a sidelong glance, clearly prepared for the question. “The RavenX operates on an encrypted frequency that’s nearly impossible to intercept. Even if someone managed to breach it, the drone has an auto-lockout protocol. It will wipe its data and return to base immediately.”  

Yamato raises a brow, clearly impressed. “You’ve outdone yourself again, Mei Mei.”

Mei Mei keeps her poised smile, her confidence unmistakable. “Why thank you, Mr. Gojo. The RavenX isn’t just a surveillance drone—but it’s a masterpiece of precision engineering. With a flight range of over 500 miles and an adaptive AI capable of learning terrain in real-time, it ensures maximum efficiency in hostile or unpredictable environments.”  

Yamato leans forward slightly, adjusting his glasses, his expression one of genuine intrigue. “Interesting. And the resolution on this feed?”  

“4K with thermal imaging,” Mei Mei replies, tapping the screen to zoom in on a distant object. The clarity is undeniable. “It’s designed to thrive in low-visibility conditions. Perfect for search and rescue, military applications, or even high-security industrial work. The AI is coded for rapid response to potential threats—watch this.”  

She waves to one of her team members, who approaches the drone with a metal rod. As soon as the drone’s sensors pick up the movement, it lets out a synthetic caw and gracefully maneuvers upward, evading the perceived threat.  

Satoru raises his brows, shifting his weight. “Not bad,” he murmurs, clearly impressed but keeping his tone casual.  

Mei Mei tilts her head, catching his eye. “Not bad? That’s high praise coming from the Satoru Gojo. I’ll take it.” Mei Mei clears her throat, tucking some hair behind her ear. “We’ve also designed it to respond to its owner’s call. Like this.” She whistles and quickly, the crow swoops down, landing on her outstretched arm as if it were an actual animal. Mei Mei’s grin deepens as the RavenX perches gracefully on her arm, its wings retracting with a faint mechanical hum. She lightly taps the drone’s head, and its eyes blink, the red circle fading into a neutral glow. "Fully programmable for voice commands," she explains, "and adaptable to any user profile. It recognizes not just my call but also pre-set vocal patterns. This makes it irreplaceable for high-security operations or personal defense."

Yamato watches the display with a mixture of intrigue and admiration. “Quite remarkable of you and your team,” he states, walking forward to eye the drone better. “How does it differentiate between allies and potential threats? Is the AI pre-programmed, or does it learn through interaction?”  

Mei Mei nods, her expression one of quiet pride. “The AI starts with a baseline program, but it continuously evolves through machine learning. It identifies allies by biometrics, such as voice and facial recognition. And in cases where immediate action is required, it calculates probabilities based on behavior patterns. For instance—"  

She steps closer to Satoru, her smile taking on a sly edge. “Care to test it, Mr. Gojo?”  

Satoru raises an eyebrow, a smirk forming on his lips. “You want me to scare your fancy bird?”  

Mei Mei chuckles. “If you think you can.”  

Satoru steps forward, his presence commanding as always, and makes a sudden, exaggerated swipe toward the drone. In an instant, the RavenX lets out a sharp synthetic caw and takes flight, circling above them with its crimson eye scanning. Mei Mei whistles again, and the drone lands back on her arm, unbothered and perfectly still.  

“Responsive and calm under pressure,” she states, stroking the metallic head. “Exactly what you’d want in the field. Or at home, for that matter.”  

Yamato smiles faintly, exchanging a glance with Satoru. “What do you think, Satoru?”  

Satoru tilts his head, his head tilting in thought. “I think it has personality. Not bad, Mei Mei. Not bad at all.”  

“High praise,” Mei Mei quips, lowering the drone to its docking station. “But don’t just take my word for it. Schedule the live demonstration, and I’ll prove that the RavenX is not just another toy—it’s the future.”  

“Seems like it’ll bring in great revenue for Corvid Dynamics,” Satoru hums, the faintest flicker of amusement in his tone. He’s testing her, poking at the edges of her confidence.  

Mei Mei’s lips curve into a slow, calculating smile, her gaze sharp enough to slice through steel. “Oh, Mr. Gojo,” she drawls, her voice smooth but laced with something darker. “If there’s one thing you should’ve learned by now, it’s that I always get my payday. No matter the cost.”  

Her words hang heavy in the air, a subtle challenge, as if daring him to uncover just how far she’d go.

Satoru’s brows knit slightly, facing her cockiness with his own growing peculiarity and slight indignation. Yamato’s eyes gleam with interest, and he nods. “We’ll be in touch.”  

As Mei Mei leaves the room, Yamato leans back, hands in his pockets, his gaze lingering on the drone. “I like her,” he says with a casual chuckle. “But I like the bird more.” 

“You do realize she’s been attempting to sell us the same product for years now, right?” Satoru replies, giving his father a look. “Not much has changed except for her persistence and lack of connections with other investors. She’s desperate.” 

Yamato's eyes remain fixed on the docking station where the multiple of the RavenX rest, their red eyes dimmed. He hums thoughtfully, tapping a finger against his chin. “Desperation doesn’t always mean a bad deal, Satoru. Sometimes it means someone is willing to give more than they take.”  

Satoru scoffs lightly, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Or it means we’re being pitched a polished-up version of the same old tech because she can’t get anyone else to bite.” His tone is sharp, but there’s a glint of curiosity in his gaze as he glances back at the drone.  

“You underestimate her,” Yamato replies evenly, turning to face his son. “Mei Mei might not have the connections now, but her ingenuity is undeniable. Persistence like hers doesn’t come without talent.”  

Satoru raises an eyebrow, his frown faint. “So what’s the play? You want to throw her a bone? Out of pity?”  

Yamato chuckles, shaking his head. “No. I want to see how far she’s willing to go to prove herself. Desperation has a way of bringing out either brilliance or recklessness. Either one can be valuable… if handled correctly.”  

Satoru’s eyes narrow slightly, his posture relaxing but his mind clearly working. “You think she’s banking everything on this deal?”  

“Possibly,” Yamato replies. “And if that’s the case, it’s an opportunity for us to gain leverage. Let her prove the RavenX’s worth. If she succeeds, we gain a strong partner. If she doesn’t, we gain insight into her limitations.”  

Satoru scoffs. “So we’re dangling the carrot. Making her sweat a little?”  

Yamato’s expression hardens slightly, his tone measured. “We don’t play games, Satoru. We make calculated investments. Mei Mei is smart, but she needs to prove she can be consistent. We don’t just invest in technology—we invest in people.”  

“She’s a money-hungry woman who has proven to throw her own family under the bus.” Satoru huffs, face scrunching in disgust. “Why would we want to do business with that?”

Yamato gives his son a long, measured look, his expression sharpening slightly. “And what makes you think she’s any different from any other businessperson out there? Everyone has a past, Satoru. You can’t throw someone out because of a few bad decisions or some family drama. You need to look at the bigger picture. Her motivations, her drive. If she’s willing to risk it all for this, we need to understand why—and if it’s worth it for us.”

Satoru’s eyes flash with irritation, but he keeps his tone steady. “And what if it’s not? What if she’s just too volatile? We don’t need someone who’s going to blow up in our faces when things get rough. Besides, we need to be careful of who we trust and partner with. Anyone of these people could be the leaker. What if she’s the reason my family has been put in danger?”

“It’s not your family if you’re not married.” Yamato simply utters, turning to walk out the building. 

Satoru tenses his jaw, following his father out into the cold December air; each wearing long black coats. “Don’t. We’re talking about my son and his mother, it doesn’t matter if we’re not married. They’re still valuable to me.”

Yamato stops in his tracks, his breath visible in the frigid air, and his gaze lingers on Satoru, weighing his words carefully. “I know they’re valuable to you. But you have to separate your emotions from business, Satoru. This isn’t about family drama. This is about leverage, trust, and the bigger game. You can’t afford to let personal stakes cloud your judgment when there’s so much on the line.

Satoru’s hands ball into fists, his frustration evident. “And what about loyalty? What about looking out for the people who matter to us? You can’t pretend it’s all just numbers and strategy when lives are at risk.”

Yamato turns his body fully, looking at his son with an intensity that’s both fatherly and businesslike. “You’ve got to protect what’s yours, yes. But you have to know when to fight and when to step back. Mei Mei is a risk, but so is anyone else. We make calculated moves, not emotional ones.”

Satoru exhales sharply, his breath mixing with the cold air. “Calculated moves...You keep saying that like it makes everything easier. But what if she’s too dangerous? What if this deal blows up in our faces?”

He sighs. “Listen, okay? You’re right,” Yamato says, his voice quiet but firm. “Koji and that woman are valuable. But there’s a difference between protecting them and letting fear cloud your judgment. If we start making decisions based on fear of the unknown, we risk losing everything.” His gaze hardens slightly, the unspoken weight of responsibility hanging in the air. “We need to think strategically. If Mei Mei’s involved in this leak, we’ll find out. But we can’t let that stop us from moving forward.”

Satoru clenches his fists, frustration building as the cold air bites at his skin. “Her name is Y/N. And I don’t want to be blindsided, Dad. I don’t want to end up paying for a mistake I didn’t see coming.”

“I know,” Yamato replies. “And that’s why we don’t rush into anything. We take the time to assess, to understand what’s really at stake here. If she’s the leaker, then we’ll handle it. If she’s not… then we make sure she’s a valuable asset to this company, and we don’t let her get too comfortable. At the end of the day, our real issue is with the mastermind behind all this, who wanted it out for us—you—in the first place.” Yamato’s face hardens, his voice low but firm. “And this is a chance you take in this world. It’s not all clean and easy, Satoru. But in the end, it’s about understanding the person you’re dealing with. You don’t just protect your assets—you protect the people who can help you build something greater.”

Satoru doesn’t respond right away, his jaw tight as he processes his father’s words. The snow starts to fall lightly around them, a silent reminder of the cold world they’re navigating. 

“I’m not letting anyone—especially someone like Mei Mei—jeopardize Koji,” Satoru finally says, his voice more resolute now, though there’s a layer of uncertainty still lingering. “I can play the game, but I’m not playing with fire just because someone’s trying to get their foot in the door.”

Yamato watches him for a moment, his eyes unreadable, before nodding slowly. “I know. But sometimes, Satoru, you’ve got to light the fire to control it. You don’t have to trust Mei Mei right away—but you’ll need to see her for who she truly is before you make your final move.”

The two of them continue walking in silence, the sound of their footsteps crunching in the snow a steady rhythm. In the distance, the city skyline looms, full of promises, dangers, and opportunities that will inevitably pull them further into the storm. The black Escalade waiting for them in the distance. “I’m going to keep my eye on her. I won’t sacrifice my own for the sake of business. Unlike you.”

Satoru speaks with finality, walking ahead of his father and getting into the backseat as the driver opens the door for them. Yamato, watching his son’s back, feels a twinge of guilt at the truth behind his son’s honesty. But he hides that behind his usual serious expression, shaking away his guiltiness with frustration. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

The two men don’t even make it three steps back into the first floor of the office before Himari is bounding up to her boyfriend. Arms instantly wrapping around his neck and she shamelessly latches her lips onto his. Yamato, along with a few other working employees look away, his father not bothering to hide his displeased sound. Satoru, caught off guard, pulls away, hands to her shoulders. “Himari, what are you doing?”

“Oh, what? Now you don’t want me to kiss you in front of people?” The bitterness in her voice doesn’t go undetected, sparing Yamato a glance before batting her lashes up at Satoru. “I was waiting for you, I didn’t know you went out.”

“Because I didn’t tell you.”

“And because you’re still keeping secrets from me.”

He really doesn’t want to argue with her right now, especially here. Instead, he sighs, grabbing hold of her hand and leading her to the elevator. “Please don’t make a scene, okay? I’m working.”

Himari’s expression hardens as the elevator doors close, turning to Satoru. “Oh, ‘a scene’? Is that what you think it is? You’re my boyfriend—mine. If I want to kiss you, I’ll do that.”

Satoru closes his eyes briefly, exhaling in frustration as the elevator ascends. The tension between them is palpable, and he knows that Himari’s possessiveness is starting to bleed into every aspect of their relationship. He’s never been one for confrontation with her, but he can feel the cracks starting to form, the weight of the secrets, and the pressure of expectations pulling at him. “Look, Himari,” he starts, his voice low but firm. “You’re right, you’re my girlfriend, and I don’t mind being affectionate with you. But not like that—especially not in front of my team and father. I don’t need the office to think we’re some kind of soap opera.”

Himari crosses her arms over her chest, her lips pressed together in a tight line. “I’m not the one making this difficult, Satoru. You’re the one hiding things from me, playing these little games. I’m here, aren’t I? I’m by your side, but you’re always pushing me away. And for what, her?” She dramatically scoffs at the idea of you. 

Satoru focuses on the rising numbers of the floors, willing himself to handle this calmly. “We’re not talking about her right now, Himari.”

“But you’re thinking of her.”

They get to the right floor and Satoru quickly steps out, making his way to his office. Himari is right on his tail, clinging to his arm. 

Satoru pulls the door open to his office, his movements stiff as he enters, trying to shake off the tension from the elevator. Himari follows closely behind, the weight of her presence already grating on his nerves. The office is quiet, save for the faint hum of the city outside the large windows. 

He sets his briefcase down on the desk, his mind still swirling with the earlier conversation with his father. Mei Mei’s drones, the possible business partnership—everything feels like it’s spinning out of his control. But with Himari here, focusing on her, is the last thing he wants to do. She steps in front of him, hands on her hips, eyes narrowed. “You’re avoiding me now?” Her voice is sharp, tinged with a mix of frustration and hurt.

Satoru exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not avoiding you, Himari. I’m just trying to focus on work.” His words are clipped, and tired. 

Her gaze softens, but there's still a touch of bitterness lingering. "Work, huh?" she repeats. "Or is it her? Are you really telling me there's nothing going on with you two? She was at your house the other day, acting as if she lived there." 

Satoru closes his eyes briefly, willing himself to stay calm. “She doesn’t live there, Himari. And I don’t have time for this right now. I’m dealing with a lot. I’m trying to keep everything from falling apart.” His tone is low, strained. 

Himari’s expression falters for a second, the usual arrogance in her stance dimming just slightly. “I just want to know where I stand with you. I want you to be open with me. I want to trust you.” Her voice softens. 

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not hiding anything, Himari. But there are things I need to handle before I can talk about us. I need you to trust me on that.”

She looks at him for a long beat, her lips pursed in thought. Finally, she steps closer, her fingers brushing against his chest. “I want to trust you, Satoru. But you’re making it hard.” Her voice is barely above a whisper now, the sharp edge replaced with a quiet vulnerability. 

He’s silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. The weight of her words presses down on him, but he knows that there’s too much at stake right now. With everything that’s going on—this new possible business deal, the leaks, the company’s future, his son, and you—he can’t afford to focus on this relationship as much as he might want to. 

“I’m doing the best I can,” he says quietly, voice almost too soft for her to hear. “But you need to understand, Himari… it’s not just about us. There are bigger things happening right now.”

She stares at him, eyes searching his face, as if trying to decode every emotion there. “Promise me something, then. Just give me that little bit of reassurance.” Her hands find home on his cheeks, tilting his face down toward hers. “Nothing is going on between you and her. You’re still mine, right?”

Satoru hesitates, feeling the heat of her hands on his cheeks, the pressure of her gaze locking him in place. Her words hang in the air, a demand wrapped in uncertainty, and for a moment, he’s unsure of how to respond. He wants to reassure her, wants to calm the storm brewing in her eyes, but the truth is far more complicated than a simple promise. There’s only one answer he must give her. He swallows, his thoughts swirling. “Himari, you know I’m not good with promises,” he murmurs, his voice low and tinged with frustration. “But I can tell you this: there’s nothing between me and her.” He forces his gaze to meet hers, trying to convey the sincerity in his words, even though the uncertainty weighs on him. “I’m still here. And I’m still yours.”

Her eyes soften, but the tension doesn’t fully lift. She searches his face for any sign of hesitation, any clue that might betray him. For a long moment, they stand there, her hands still cradling his face, as if willing him to prove himself. As if the longer they stay like this, his words might actually feel more like the truth than a bandaid. Finally, she nods, though there’s a flicker of doubt in her gaze. “I want to believe you, Satoru. I really do.”

“You really didn’t have to buy us presents.” You mutter, opening the door to your visitor. Still making sure to keep your volume to a low since Koji is sleeping in his room. 

Suguru smiles warmly, stepping in and shaking off the snow before placing two presents under the tree. One for your son, and one for you. “It’s okay, Y/N. I wanted to.”

It’s pretty late at night, but Suguru had told you he had a pretty busy week up ahead and this was really the only time he could drop off his presents for you and Koji. You showered and ate a quick dinner before he came. Muscles sore and feet tired from standing all day, but you still find it in you to show your gratitude. “I appreciate it, really.” Closing and locking the door behind you, you sigh. “I feel bad, I haven’t gotten anyone a gift besides Koji. I’ll buy you something with my next paycheck.”

Suguru chuckles softly, his eyes warm with understanding. "You don’t have to worry about that, Y/N. I don’t expect anything in return." He gestures to the presents under the tree. "This is just a small token of appreciation, nothing more. It’s Christmas, everyone deserves a gift."

You feel a faint blush creeping up your neck at his words. The sincerity in his tone makes you feel both grateful and a little guilty. It’s hard to accept his kindness sometimes, especially when you feel like you’re not able to give back as much. “Well, thank you again,” you say quietly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “You didn’t have to go through all the trouble.”

Suguru gives you a reassuring smile. "It’s no trouble at all. I’m just happy to see you and Koji doing well." He glances toward the hallway where Koji’s room is. "How’s he been? Sleeping well?"

You nod, walking over to the couch and sitting down with a sigh. "Yeah, he’s been good. He hasn’t been napping during the day lately, so I guess he’s just getting more tired at night. Which is good, I suppose. More time to rest for me too." You run a hand through your hair, glancing at the tree in the corner. "I just wish I had more time to relax… but you know how it is."

Suguru sits down beside you, his posture relaxed. "I know exactly how it is," he says with a knowing look. "But you’re doing the best you can. That’s all anyone can ask for." He pauses, then adds softly, "And I’ll always be here to help when you need it."

You give him a small, thankful smile, the weight of the day finally beginning to lift a little. "Thanks, Suguru. I really mean it."

He nods, his smile warm but gentle. "Of course. You’re not alone in this."

As you sit there, the quiet comfort of his presence fills the room. You know that no matter how much you try to do on your own, Suguru will always be there, offering support when you need it most. He’s always been like that. You remember times when you and Satoru would fight and Suguru would help comfort you. It’s something you had come to rely on, and while it’s not always easy to accept help, you’re starting to understand that sometimes, it’s okay to lean on the people who care about you. That relationship between you two still feels strained, though—weird. 

“So…” you start, wanting to fill the empty silence with something. “How was your day today?”

Suguru tilts his head slightly, his expression thoughtful for a moment before he answers. “Busy, as usual. Lots of meetings, a bit of paperwork, and some follow-ups. Nothing out of the ordinary. But it’s nice to finally have a bit of a breather now.” He chuckles softly. “I’ve been looking forward to this more than I probably should’ve. Being able to just sit down and talk without worrying about the next thing on my to-do list.”

You smile a little, appreciating his honesty. “Sounds like you’ve earned the break, then.” You stretch slightly, feeling the strain in your muscles from standing all day. “I get that feeling too sometimes, when everything feels like it’s moving too fast and I can’t catch my breath.”

Suguru nods in understanding, his gaze gentle. “I know exactly what you mean. It’s hard to slow down when there’s so much going on. But you do a good job of juggling everything. I admire that about you.” His voice is low, and there’s a sincerity in it that makes your chest tighten a little, a smile hiding on your lips. 

You glance down at your hands, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. “I try my best… but it’s not always easy. Some days, I feel like I’m failing at everything.”

Suguru reaches over, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You’re not failing, Y/N. Trust me. You’re doing everything you can, and that’s more than enough. I see how hard you work, how much you care for Koji. You’re doing a great job, even if it doesn’t always feel like it.”

His words settle over you like a warm blanket, easing the tension you didn’t even realize you were holding. You take a deep breath, trying to push away the doubts that have been lingering in your mind. “I appreciate it, Suguru. I really needed to hear that.”

He gives you a soft smile, the kind that says everything without needing words. “Anytime.”

You make eye contact with him, feeling a blizzard of strange emotions pile down onto you. The smile he adorns causes your own to come out of hiding, and before you know it, he’s softly chuckling. Looking back down at his feet. The sound of his laugh causes your heart to beat just a little faster. Clearing your throat. “You can take your coat off. I have some leftover wine.” In your head, you’re confused as to why you suddenly made that suggestion; mentally face-palming. “Unless you drove here, then never mind.”

“I won’t get drunk off some wine,” he shakes his head, standing and stripping himself of his coat to reveal a cotton white shirt. “Lead the way.”

With a small, but amused huff, you get up from the couch and walk over to the kitchen. Reaching up to open the cabinet you don’t request very often. The hem of your shirt rises slightly, revealing a teasing hint of your lower stomach. Suguru forces his eyes to stay on your hands, biting the inside of his cheek. 

You pull out the bottle of wine, twisting the cap off and setting it down next to two glasses on the counter. As you pour, you feel the weight of Suguru’s gaze on you, though you don’t look at him directly. The air in the kitchen feels different now, charged in a way that makes the space seem smaller, and more intimate. “You didn’t have to bring me a gift, but I’m glad you did,” you say, trying to break the tension with casual words. You pour the wine, handing him a glass first. “It’s not much, but it’s all I’ve got tonight.”

Suguru takes the glass with a smile, the faintest trace of something unreadable in his eyes. “I told you I didn’t bring it to get anything in return. It’s just a little something to show I care.”

His tone is steady, but there’s a subtle undercurrent that makes your heart race. You try to mask your unease with a small grin as you take a sip of the wine, letting its warmth settle into you. “I appreciate that. I really do.” 

You move to lean against the counter, feeling suddenly self-conscious in the silence that hangs between you two. Suguru stands a bit closer than you’re used to, the space between you two too small now. His eyes flicker to your lips for a second before he quickly looks away, but the faint moment lingers in the air, thick with unspoken words. You let the wine sit on your tongue a bit longer, trying to steady your thoughts. Something has shifted—maybe it’s the closeness, or maybe it’s just the quiet understanding between the two of you. But you’re keenly aware of how his presence fills the room, how his proximity makes everything feel heightened.

“How have things been with you and Satoru?”

Holding back a grimace, you take another sip. “I mean, as good as it can be, you know?”

Suguru nods, his expression softening as he leans against the counter, his arms crossed. “I get it. Relationships are complicated, especially when you’re balancing so much already.”

You exhale a quiet sigh, setting the glass down a little too firmly. “Yeah. There’s always something, isn’t there? Between work, Koji, and everything…it’s hard. Stressful and overwhelming.”

Suguru watches you take your sip, frowning slightly in sympathy. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I know it’s a lot, but I can’t imagine being in your position. But it’s one day at a time, you’ll get through this. It’s easier said than done, but you could do it. You have help now. Satoru, Shoko, me.”

When you look at him, you feel yourself once again slipping into a tranquil state. Mirroring his kind facial expressions with one of your own. His words feel like a soothing balm, it feels like you’re being heard—being listened to in who knows how long? There’s a nagging voice in the back of your mind that warns you of the invisible line. Playfully, you nudge his arm. “Okay, preacher.”

He scoffs softly, nudging you back. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You push him again, he follows suit. It’s a small, spirited moment that makes you feel light. That soon comes to an end when your glass, half-full of red wine, spills not only onto the counter but onto his shirt—leaving the pristine canvas with a circle splotch of deep maroon. You gasp. “Shit! I–I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head as he looks down at the stain on his shirt. “It’s fine, Y/N. Really. It’s just a shirt.” He steps back a little, his hands raised in mock surrender as he waves off your apology, setting down his glass. “Don’t worry about it, I’ve had worse.”

You feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment, quickly grabbing a dish towel to dab at the stain, though you know it won’t help much at this point. "I’m so clumsy. I didn’t mean to—"

“Hey, hey.” Suguru cuts you off with a laugh, gently placing a hand on your wrist to stop you from dabbing at the stain. “It’s alright. Really. Just... relax.” He pauses for a moment before adding with a joking grin, “Though I might need a new shirt, I’ll survive.”

Your eyes meet his, and for a second, you see that familiar warmth in his gaze, the kind that always made you feel safe. The kind that, in another life, might’ve made you believe in something more between the two of you. But just as quickly, you pull yourself back, reminding yourself of the boundaries you’ve set. The ones that have to stay intact. “I’ll grab a new shirt for you,” you murmur, still embarrassed but trying to laugh it off. You turn toward your bedroom, your heart racing a little faster than before.

Suguru doesn’t stop you, though you hear him muttering something about "next time, at least aim for the carpet," as you walk away. The air between you both feels thick with something unspoken. You open your drawer for a fresh shirt, sifting out the biggest one you know you have. A simple black short sleeve you could only hope will suffice. Walking back out to the kitchen, you frown. “That was an accident, Suguru. Really.” 

“I know,” he nods, meeting your frantic worries with his own set of serenity. “Thank you for the shirt.” 

His hands move quicker than you had expected, your pupils blowing wide and holding back a startled noise. You gulp hard, forcing your eyes to focus on a random spot on your kitchen wall. However, you can’t help them wandering every so often as he unbuttons the now red-stained shirt. Your throat almost dries at the peek of his collarbone. Again, looking away. Don’t, that’s not right. 

But if it’s not right, why does it feel like the opposite? Why is it suddenly making you nervous—flustered? You even jolt a bit at his calming voice interjecting the silence. “It’s alright, you didn’t mean it.”

You can only offer a weak nod, not trusting your voice to give away your inner turmoil and confusion. You can feel the heat creeping up your neck, your heart thudding too loudly in your chest as Suguru drops his shirt onto the counter. His movements are unhurried, and calm, as if he doesn’t notice the storm brewing inside you.

Or maybe he does.

Holding your hands together awkwardly, peeking back over to see if he’s done. You almost wish you hadn’t. His perfect chest greets you hello. Abs practically beckoning to be felt up on and his tan nipples make you shake away an intrusive thought. 

What are you thinking? This is Suguru for crying out loud!

Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve been particularly…achy lately. You haven’t gotten some in quite a long time and this is literally the first time you’re seeing a man’s naked chest in front of you since Satoru. Since his best friend. God, you’re so weak. 

You hold out the clean shirt for him. “Thanks,” he murmurs, fingertips brushing against yours as he slips the black tee on. You wish he hadn’t. It was the largest thing you had in your place, but still too small for Suguru. So it fits more tight, more cropped, cutting off just after his belly button—just before his v-line. 

You look down, pretending to busy yourself with wiping the already spotless countertop. Anything to avoid the way your pulse quickens under his steady gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“You already apologized,” he smoothly waves you off with a comforting smile, walking over to the hamper you pointed out and dropping the dirty shirt in. Walking back over to the kitchen, he notices the fact that you seem to be looking anywhere but him. 

And when he sees the pretty blush that you hide on your cheeks, his insides stir like a washing machine. Clearing his throat apologetically, hands rubbing in a fidgety manner. He turns his head to the side. “Sorry.”

“No,” you protest, a little too quickly. “…it’s okay, I…I didn’t mind.”

The silence that follows feels so loud. You both don’t know what to say, if there is anything to say in the first place. You’ve just seen him half-naked. Thinking about that, actually processing it, it makes you feel hot. It should be nothing, yet you’re acting like a hormonal teenager.

But, he looked so…good.

You peek over at him from the corner of your eye, distinguishing him doing the exact same thing you are. You two look away at the same time, staring at the sink in front of you guys. Maybe the silence is better than speaking. It stretches out, heavy and palpable. It’s not awkward, but it’s loaded with something that neither of you can name. You catch yourself sneaking a glance at Suguru again, only to find that he’s doing it too—his gaze drifting away when it meets yours. You swallow hard, trying to regain some semblance of normalcy. “You, uh... you’re comfortable, right?” you manage, focusing on something, anything other than the tension you feel growing between you two.

Suguru doesn’t respond immediately, and when he does, it’s with a small smile that seems more like a reassurance to himself than anything else. “Yeah, I’m good. Don’t worry about it.”

You nod, still not looking directly at him. The words feel like they hang in the air a bit longer than they should. This is just a friend helping you out, you remind yourself. This is just Suguru. But the more you try to convince yourself, the less you’re sure you believe it. The heat in your neck refuses to fade, and you feel restless, a sense of yearning you can’t quite place crawling up your spine.

Suguru clears his throat again, a bit sheepishly this time. “Hey, uh… would it be alright if I stayed a little longer? I promise I won’t make it weird. I know we’re both probably feeling… well, something right now, but I don’t want to just leave like this.”

Your heart skips a beat, not sure if it’s the wine or just him standing so close to you that’s making your head spin. You don’t know how to respond. You want to say something to ease the growing discomfort between you, but it’s like every word feels loaded now, heavy with implications. The space between you feels too small, even though you know it shouldn’t. You glance up at him, meeting his eyes. The vulnerability in his gaze is unmistakable. Suguru is there—as much as you are—and whatever this thing is, it’s lingering in the air between you, waiting to either break or blossom.

“I—” You stop yourself, trying to catch your breath. “I don’t mind. If you want to stay, I… I’d like the company.” The words come out quieter than you intended, but they’re honest. Suguru’s face softens, a little surprised but clearly relieved. He takes a step closer, just a tiny one, but it’s enough to make your chest tighten.

“Yeah?” he asks quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You sure?”

You nod, your breath shallow as your eyes lock. For a moment, time slows. Everything around you seems to fade away except the two of you, the tension, the way your bodies are just a little too close, the way you can feel the weight of everything unspoken between you. His hand brushes yours again, his fingers lingering just for a second longer than necessary before it pulls away. However, it's enough to send a spark of electricity through you, making your heart race all over again.

“Yeah,” you say again, softer this time. “I’m sure.”

And just like that, the moment extends out, waiting for something—anything—to break the stillness. You both know it, you both feel it, but neither of you is sure how to move forward. 

It’s nothing, you both think. Just friends.

a/n: happy early new yearrr!! should i do a new year drabble too? hmmm....

taglist is now closed

taglist: @celestialforce @theclassbookworm @tbzzluvr @uhenivid @ofkilljoysandslytherins

@sadmonke @bunheadusa @shartnart1 @lady-of-blossoms @itsinherited

@duooy @ari-sa @dakotali @mew4-ever18 @iv-vee

@devils-blackrose @a-girl-with-thoughts @bitchycloudstrawberry @tiffyisme3760 @iheartshopping

@chiara-hotel @uriahs-barn @celloccino @roronoazorosbxtchh @pseudophyllus

@ratedrrrr @m1gota @tojideckmuncher @yigaclvn @sukunaslve

@eiizabeth-torres @cherrythiccums0 @satorustorm @zoeyflower @username23345

@i0313z @gourdlorddgubes @partypoison00 @quinnyundertow @sorilyae

@redzscare @aldebrana @nycmagi @s4ikooo1 @dreaming-lis @gigiiiiislife

@boothillglazer @miss-dior @miakxn @rjreins

[harmoonix]

Tied together

Astroblog short Observations

Note: This might be my last post for 2024 😍. I really hope you enjoyed my content for this year and I hope you will be here next year for new amazing content 🩵🩵🩵 I wish you all a good 2025, may all your wishes come true within the next year ❤️❤️ by @harmoonix. Always remember that you are loved ❤️

Air Moon x Earth Sun combo natives are a good combination of feelings vs communication. Sometimes the earth sun won't let you to say everything you have on your heart

Mercury in the 7th house can share a similar love language with their loved ones, it can be close people or even potential partners

Mercury in Pisces natives get lost so easily in their conversation, sometimes you have to tell the same thing multiple times which is funny to me. Same to the 12th Mercury

Asteroid Eros (433) in the 5th 7th or 8th houses tend to fall in love with people who have a strong sensual energy = sensual couple

Asteroid Destinn (6583) in a synastry/composite chart can show the destiny of that specific relationship or partner with you

Asteroid Charis (627) in air signs tend to be the most charming when they talk/express themselves/their voice is something charming as well

Moon x Ascendant aspects tend to have such a baby face. Can be the cheeks, eyes, lips, and their ears. Sometimes their face can resemble a kids ones

Moon in Aries natives can be impulsive, something very known among the Aries placements. They also like to dominate the places or people around

Healed Taurus Placements can be a symbol of kindness. Especially if they're combined with a water placement together

Saturn in the 3rd house natives may lack communication in their lives because Saturn likes to restrict the house where hes located. Finding a way to express yourself is a key-to-go for an improvement

Men with heavy MARS influence will act so nasty, sorry not sorry Mars is a planet of war and won't sugarcoat anybody. These men can also have a bad behavior or talking too dirty

Chiron/Saturn in the 1st house = Things will start to get better with the years. Natives with such placements tend to have it harder early in life, but more rewarding later

Mars x Chiron aspects have issues related to their fears and insecurities. Sometimes your fears can be more violent and can have an impact on your daily life

Not 100% applying for everyone but natives with Mars or Pluto in the 7th house can experience one or more toxic relationships. And can be all the type of toxicity

Saturn in the 2nd house has the way long to go in learning about their values and worth. Even about how to spend their money and how to make them, money's worth

Saturn in Virgo/6th house can turn soo negative if things go wrong because they achieve to be perfectionists. It's okay to do mistakes

Juno in the 11th house can indicate ending up marrying your close friend or someone who was in your friend cycle for a while/can also meet with them in the online

Sagittarius Mercury can turn depressive if their friends or close people don't share the same humour as them. It is for the best to share it

Eros (433) in the 9th house can indicate meeting a lover while traveling/in school/highschool, can be an indicator for highschool lovers. (Not 100% applying for everyone)

For some reason Mars in fire signs will choose the be chased in a love relationship. They simply love it. I think that's a way to show their love but they also love to chase others its 50/50 with them

Mars in the 1st house natives will have that very intimidating look on their face. you'll clearly see their expressions and their hotness

Moon in the 12th house natives are so peaceful, like is such a calm place they like to keep in touch with everybody

In my opinion the most underrated houses in astrology are the 2nd and the 9th house because not so many astrologers write about these houses

Sun or Venus in the 2nd house can make the native a money chaser or money lover. They'll marry money if the option is available

Jupiter in the 5th house is such a lovely place for Jupiter!! Is a jovial house for a jovial planet. These natives often have a good personalty and inner core

Pisces and Libra Placements like to talk about love-topics the MOST in my opinion. It will be either a Moon or Venus to do it so. Even most singers who do love songs tend to have these signs in their big 3 or big 6

[weiszklee]

What is the alternative to defining a mental disorder as the DSM does? Do you think grief should be considered a kind of depression? I mean, maybe you do, considering your tags

#off the cuff I want to say we *should* maybe just dispense with the concept of healthy#and be cause-agnostic#and literally just have like 'ok I don't like this experience I am having can you help me change it'#it's possible to collect 'syndromes' of experiences that could be addressed in various ways without the concept of pathology#in the glorious transhumanist future we pick our syndromes off a menu

And I don't even think this is an incoherent or repugnant position in itself. It's a bit Brave New World, but maybe that's fine. But I don't think we should fault the DSM for foregoing this radical transhumanist approach for now and to instead focus on the severe cases.

Maybe the state of everyone does suck, and maybe we can improve it. I don't think that is psychiatry anymore though.

I am broadly in favor of social and political changes which reduce everyone's stress and alleviate common causes of existential dread. Do tell me more about your proposals! But tasking psychiatry with this is ridiculous.

Your toxic gas hypothetical isn't even all that hypothetical. Car exhausts are indeed toxic and do very much so contribute to adverse health outcomes. Not every doctor who regularly treats pulmonary diseases is a car abolitionist though. Some probably are, but you expect your doctor to treat your illness regardless of its cause. And we don't go around citing ICD-10 passages as proof that doctors are hiding the true causes of pulmonary diseases from us because they are in league with the car lobby or whatever.

…psychiatry assumes that society does not cause distress in biologically normal people, who are considered biologically normal at least in part because they are economically productive. This assumption permits the conclusion that if a person is distressed to the point of unproductivity, it is because that person—not society—is abnormal. Thus, psychiatry’s commitment to biological essentialism not only masks the role of the constructed sociopolitical environment in creating distress but depoliticizes it by characterizing that allegedly irrational distress as induced by biological abnormality.

– Kiera Lyons, “The Neurodiversity Paradigm and Abolition of Psychiatric Incarceration” (2023)

[mclacedes]

Let Them See (LH44)

a/n: writing angst wasn't helping my depressed ass at all so here's a smutty thought :)

summary: in which lewis has a controversially young girlfriend, who he suddenly isn't afraid of showing around

warnings: suggestive content, dirty talk, age gap, kind of sick, friends-to-lovers, secret relationship

WC: 1.9k

Everyone knew your relationship with Lewis was byword impulsive and complicated—not because you wanted it to be, but because of the circumstances you were in.

The 16-year age gap between you and Lewis didn’t sit well with everyone, making discretion your only option. You hid away together, sneaking around like teenagers, leaning on each other in any four-walled space. You lost count of how many times you and Lewis went to the rented villa on Lake Como, being able to take bites off each other everywhere possible.

You’d lost track of how many times you’d escaped to the rented villa on Lake Como, stealing moments to lose yourselves in each other.

And you liked it that way. The secrecy, the privacy—you’d been the one to insist on it.

You first met Lewis when you were 22, and he was 38. It was 2023, and your connection had been instant. You became best friends, growing closer with each passing day. On your 23rd birthday, he’d gifted you 23 of your favorite books, each one holding a handwritten note.

Now, at 24, with him at 40, the age gap felt striking, unavoidable. Yet, there was something about it that thrilled you, made your pulse race, your mind whirl, and your body ache with a want you couldn’t quite explain.

Now, it was all speculation for the fans and entertainment for the other drivers, who relished watching you and Lewis attempt to keep your composure in front of the cameras. Every stolen glance and lingering touch fed the rumors, the intrigue, the tension.

But tonight, none of that mattered. Tonight, you couldn’t care less about the cameras or what anyone thought.

It was December 7th, 2025—the night of the final race of the season. The night Lewis cemented his legacy, securing his eighth world championship and becoming the most decorated driver in Formula 1 history. The long-awaited eighth had finally arrived, and the weight of it, the joy of it, was almost too much to contain.

Everyone was at the afterparty—everyone except Charles, who had been Lewis’s fiercest competitor throughout the season. They’d gone head-to-head in countless races, but Charles ultimately finished third in the championship, with Lando getting closer and closer to the so-dreamed-of championship.

But in the end, only one person could take it home. And there happens to be only one GOAT. It had been Lewis’ from the very start.

The room was filled with those who weren’t envious but proud, celebrating his historic achievement. It was a night of laughter, toasts, and admiration for the man who had just become an eight-time world champion.

Lewis sat on a couch in the VIP section of the Abu Dhabi club, slowly breathing in the air of victory and sipping on the glass of champagne in his hand, its price not even a thought in his mind.

The air of victory didn’t reek of the podium’s champagne or the faint musk of the club, though. It smelled just like your Dior perfume, your vanilla soap and your vanilla shampoo.

Victory looked like the pretty girl sat on his thigh, bobbing her head to the sound of the all-too-loud music, sipping off her own glass of golden bubbly beverage.

“I think I’m getting too old for this,” he murmured, his warm breath brushing against your ear, his lips so close you could feel every word.

You chuckled, throwing your head back in that carefree way that always made him smile—it was one of the little things he thought was the cutest about you.

“Wanna leave already, Sir? We’re barely started partying,” you teased, tilting your head to meet his gaze.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping an octave, his words vibrating against your chest. “I’ve got far more interesting things waiting at home, Y/N. And trust me, we can party all night there too.”

The weight of his tone sends a shiver down your spine, warmth blooming low in your belly as the meaning behind his words settled in, making your pulse quicken.

Suddenly, you are too aware of how short your dress is and how his hand palms your thigh. You swallow hard, the music and chatter of the club fading into the background. His dark eyes are locked on yours, and the teasing curve of his lips only deepen your anticipation.

“Is that so?” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper, though you knew he could hear the challenge laced in your tone.

Lewis’s fingers traced idle circles on your thigh, his touch light yet deliberate. “You know it is,” he said, his grin growing darker, more possessive. “I’d even dare say… you like that idea, don’t you?”

“Outrageous!” you replied, flashing a mischievous smile, your teeth catching your bottom lip in a playful bite.

The warmth pooling in your belly grew as his hand slid up a fraction more, reaching the hem of your dress. His fingers toyed with the sequins, sending tiny sparks of sensation through your skin.

“Lewis…” you murmured, your tone caught between playful and cautious, though your smile faltered under his gaze. “We’re in public.”

His laughter rumbled low and deep, a sound that sent a shiver straight through you. “Then you’d better behave, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dangerously soft. His eyes never left yours, and his grin turned wicked as he added, “Because if you keep looking at me like that…” He let the words linger, charged and heavy with intent. “I might just have to take you right here.”

Your breath hitched, a mix of anticipation and adrenaline coursing through you as his words sank in. His hand lingered at the hem of your dress, just enough to tease, to test your resolve.

“Bold of you to assume I’d let you,” you shot back, though your voice wavered slightly, betraying your feigned confidence.

Lewis’s smirk deepened, his gaze never breaking from yours. “Oh, love,” he murmured, his voice like silk wrapping around you, “you’d not only let, you’d beg me to do so.”

Heat flushed through you, and you struggled to keep your composure under his piercing gaze. The music around you seemed to blur into white noise, the club melting away until it felt like it was just the two of you, locked in a silent battle of wills.

“Right… Then what if I told you I would absolutely love you to take me right here?” you said, batting your eyelashes as you looked into his soul through his eyes.

Lewis could feel his pants getting too tight around his crotch as you kept looking at him.

Lewis’s smirk grew even darker, the intensity in his gaze sending a shiver down your spine. “Shit, love…” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, rich and velvety, making a mess on your panties. “I have to remind you just how dangerous it is to play games you can’t win.”

The heat between you was palpable, a private flame burning brighter with every second. The noise of the club, the thrumming bass, the distant laughter—they all faded into oblivion. It was just him, just you, and the tension crackling like electricity in the air.

“Well, I’m not afraid of losing,” you whispered, leaning closer, your lips curling into a teasing smile. “Maybe I want to see just how far you’d go, Lewis.”

His grip on your thigh tightened, and his dark eyes dropped briefly to your lips, before returning to yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. He was holding on by a thread, and you could tell he was teetering between self-control and giving in.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he said, his tone a warning laced with hunger.

You tilted your head, your confidence unwavering as you batted your lashes again. “Oh, except I do,” you replied softly, your voice dripping with challenge.

Lewis shifted in his seat, the tightness in his pants making his restraint all the more difficult. His jaw clenched briefly, his free hand resting on the back of your neck, his thumb grazing your skin in a way that sent a jolt through you.

“You’re going to regret saying that,” he said, his lips brushing against your ear, his words a promise and a threat all at once.

But regret was the last thing on your mind. You leaned in, your breath warm against his cheek as you whispered, “Prove it.”

The heat between you was undeniable now, a private storm building despite the crowd around you. The world didn’t matter—the cameras, the whispers, the flashing lights. It was just him, just you, and the pull that neither of you could resist.

And as his lips brushed the shell of your ear again, he whispered, “Let’s get out of here.”

He gently nudged you off his lap, rising to his feet. Taking your hand in his, he led you toward the exit. But just as you reached the door, a sudden burst of cheers echoed from the VIP bar.

Max Verstappen, Lando Norris, Carlos Sainz, and Alex Albon were all staring at you two, grinning like they’d just caught wind of the hottest gossip in the room.

You smile, your cheeks flushing slightly, and bury your face in Lewis’ chest, hiding your laughter. He chuckles softly, his arms tightening around you for a moment before you pull back. As you step away, you look up to find him casually flipping off his co-workers with a playful grin.

A mischievous spark ignites within you, and without missing a beat, you mirror his action, flipping them off with a smirk of your own.

Lewis catches your move, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he watches you mirror him. His eyes gleam with approval, his playful side clearly taking over.

“That’s my baby,” he says, his voice low and teasing as he steps closer, his arm brushing against your shoulders, wrapping around your neck possessively.

The group of drivers, now aware of your shared gesture, laughs and shakes their heads, but their amusement only fuels your defiance. The tension between you and Lewis grows electric even when you two stop flipping the guys off, the playful challenge still lingering in the air.

You’re suddenly hyper-aware of the flashing lights, the cameras capturing every second of your interaction. The bright flashes momentarily blind you, but it's the weight of their gaze on both of you that makes your pulse race. It’s as if the entire world is watching, amplifying everything—the chemistry, the defiance, the thrill of the moment.

“Lewis…” you murmur, your voice low and laced with a mix of desire and curiosity.

Lewis doesn’t flinch at the attention, his smirk only deepening as he locks eyes with you. “Let them see. Let them gossip,” he murmurs, his thumb slowly tracing circles on your skin. “We’ve got this.”

Your heart pounds faster, the electricity between you undeniable. You hold his gaze, a playful yet daring smile curling on your lips.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he says, his voice a quiet promise, a declaration of everything you both are, everything you’ve been in that moment.

And as the flashes of the cameras continue, you both walk hand in hand toward the door, leaving the noise, the chaos, the spotlight behind. All that matters now is the intoxicating pull between you two, and the freedom of knowing that whatever the world says, you’ve got each other.

The night belongs to you. And that’s more than enough.

[yuutryingtowrite]

Yandere!Chef x Vampire!Reader

A/N: If you like this setting, consider reading this story too! It features another yandere employee at your castle: a maid. A male maid. And, if you wanna know more about the levels, check this post :) . Anyways, back to this himbo Warning: Not nsfw, but suggestive. MDNI. Chef calls reader "Madam"

Danger level: ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆

Submissive level: ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♡

_______________________________

~Your First Dinner with Him~

Yandere!Chef who is really oblivious. He has been staying at your castle for a while now and yet, he still doesn’t know that you are a vampire. You did try to tell him on his first day here that food is not substantial for you, but he had politely interrupted you with a “I insist, Madam. Please go rest, the food will be ready in a moment” and even guided you to the living room, by gently pushing on your lower back with his large, rough hand. You were too flustered by the gesture to continue arguing.

Your second attempt was during dinner. You thought about striking when he would go sit down after putting both plates on the table, but, much to your dismay, after that, he remained standing beside you instead. Confused, you looked up (realllllly up. How tall was this guy??) and found him nervously watching you. You were weak to his puppy look. You took a bite: “Hm! It is really good”. A smile broke on his face, his eyes turning into tiny crescent moons. “I am glad you think so, Madam! Please let me know if you have any special requests. I want to properly take care of you”, he enthusiastically, albeit a bit sheepishly, replied. Ugh, his expressions, his demeanor…way too cute. New hobby acquired: eating human food.

~His Favorite Dinner (?) with You~

Yandere!Chef, who you rarely see with a frown, who usually wears that soft and kind smile of his, looks rather uneasy today, some would say even depressed. The truth is: he can’t stand his body. Seeing it in the mirror this morning completely killed his mood. He was not aware of it before, as the change was gradual; however, it seems like he gained weight while working here as your personal chef. A number of his big, hard-earned muscles from years of underground fighting, like his pecs, his abdomen and his butt glutes, currently have a squish to the touch. They aren’t purely solid anymore. His form strayed from bulky to a bit more beefy. 

Why is that a problem? Well, ladies don’t find this attractive. At least, the ones from his village didn’t. He had witnessed it before. Had he stayed there, he would have been the subject of their disapproving and disgusted stares. Even among the regular folks, chubbiness was written off as being lazy and unreliable. You are too kind to think or do something like that, but he doesn't want your politeness, he doesn't want your open-mindedness, he wants your love. 

Lost in thoughts of new workout routines, he doesn’t notice his cut finger until blood starts to drip onto the vegetables. Ah…if he had dog ears, they would have flopped on his head. He already ruined his body, he doesn't need to ruin your dinner too. 

Turning around, it would appear that the person on his mind is right behind him. 

“M-madam! How did you get ther-", which is a very valid question; prior to this, there were no sounds owned by your footsteps nor by the kitchen’s door opening and closing. Yet, instead of answering, you just abruptly…grab his wrist and…put his finger in your mouth? At the contact, the broad-shouldered man makes a little noise. You don’t mind him as you begin to suck the blood out of the injury. 

He is very confused, he doesn't understand why you are doing this. The feel of your tongue on his skin, how you both are standing so intimately close to each other; it doesn’t favor his thinking either. It is actually making him lightheaded. Like is this sensation akin to pleasure that keeps building up the more this situation goes on. He lets out another whimper when your hand slides under his shirt to squeeze at the small fat of his stomach. 

As this snaps him out of his haze, he begins to weakly plead instead, without real conviction, to let go of his hand; he doesn’t want you to get sick. He could easily overpower you, but he can’t get his body to stop trembling. All he can do is bring a shaky hand to his mouth to muffle the sounds that keep spilling out since the feeling from earlier is now more intense, more delightful.   

Before this could escalate, you finally release his finger with a pop. You look up and find your poor chef completely flushed, his eyes unfocused, taking heavy breaths.   

Guess you owe him an explanation, huh?  

~H̶̝̿i̸̭̓s̴͉̿ ̷͉͑b̴̒͜e̶͊ͅs̴̠͋t̶̮͆ ̵̡̀d̴̟́ĩ̷̦s̷͛ͅh̶͍͛ ̵̣̃ ~

Yandere!Chef who now feeds you proper food.

“From which animal is this blood from? It tastes exquisite! I never had something like this before”, you excitedly ask him. 

“Oh, you know Madam, just ventured deeper into the forest than usual”, he answers vaguely.

He doesn’t want to worry you by saying it actually belongs to the rude asshole who pushed you the other day. 

Isn’t that sweet?

…

Drink well, darling

[pencil-n-pen]

Princess ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

⊹‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

leon kennedy x fem!reader

Summary: Being an independent woman and a full time student is all fun and games until final’s season. Luckily, your not-quite academic rival Leon Kennedy is there to pick you up when you fall.

cw: Female pronouns and description used for reader but nothing detailed (no skin color, eye color, hair type, body type, etc.) This is basically just an x reader for my independent eldest daughters who do nothing but their absolute best all the time everyday and deep down want a hot guy with beefy arms to let them relax for a minute. So i guess expect the related issues that come with being an eldest daughter?

Tags/tropes: hurt/comfort, dom! leon if you squint, leon’s very touchy, leon being a gentleman!! probably ooc, i kinda struggled finding his voice :/

wc: 3.3k

a/n: wowee so i’m not rlly looking to be a full time author or anything but i could NOT get this idea out of my head and i figured i could give back to the tumblr fic community <3 here’s to everyone who wants hurt/comfort without smut, incest, or a needlessly specific reader! hope everyone’s recovering well from finals!

— ‎ ‧₊˚ 𓂃౨ৎ

The first time it happened, it honestly, truly, was an accident. A mistake, if you will. You would never willingly fall asleep on a random guy at a party. That is all kinds of bad for a number of reasons.

However. There were some… extenuating circumstances.

Finals. They’re a make-or-break for the first semester. Mostly just a break. In the sense that you contemplated how upset your parents would be at you if you dropped out and if the subsequent disowning would be worth it.

You did finals the same way you did everything. You worked. Studied. Borderline obsessed over it. Romanticized it so you could push through when the other’s resolve started dropping. Stayed home. Your friends bemoaned your “no-fun attitude” but they’re crying over their grades and you’re not, so.

Well. Actually you’re definitely crying over your grades, almost every day in fact. But not because they’re bad. Just because you’re tired. Really tired. The kind of tired that makes people have public breakdowns. But you can’t afford to have a public breakdown because you have to succeed at college and you have to work in order to stay on top of your bills and be able to send some money home to your family and make sure you have time to call your parents and make time for your sister to call you and vent because you didn’t have a you at her age and you wish you did so you have to be there for her and your friends need you to be there for them not to mention planning for how you’re going to use your degree after you graduate and—

Most of the time you try not to think about it.

So finals were over. And everyone wanted to celebrate. And you did, you promise. You’re totally the party girl type. Totally. (Maybe if you say it enough times it’ll come true?)

You don’t hate parties. You like dressing up and going out. It’s fun! It’s just… not your idea of an unwind. Not after you nearly ran yourself into the ground for a month straight for the sake of academic validation. You’d prefer to sleep for 72 hours straight. And maybe watch a movie at home in the sweatshirt you cried over your textbooks in. Maybe over a glass of wine? You’re not really sure. Relaxing never really goes well for you. It’s either depression-bed-rotting or full productivity.

Needless to say, you weren’t exactly thrilled to find yourself at this party. You’re not really sure how your friends convinced you.

But you’re here, in makeup and an outfit you like (you’re thankful this isn’t one of the ‘put on a tight dress and dance’ parties) and you just honestly want to go to bed. It’s a house party, so it’s not nearly as crazy as some of the other parties you’ve been (read: dragged) to, but still.

You’re on the couch, ignoring the smell of alcohol in the air and pretending the pounding baseline of the music coming from the speaker in the kitchen isn’t starting to give you a headache.

Ada Wong, a girl you’ve hesitantly dubbed your party friend, is sitting on your left, while the guy you can never quite tell what he is to her, is sitting on your right.

Leon Kennedy.

On a good day, Leon Kennedy is a smart, brooding, annoyingly capable guy who you share some of your classes with. On a bad day, he’s the bane of your existence. On a really bad day, you fantasize about all the ways you could kill him and turn the experience into a really good term paper.

It’s complicated. You’re smart. He’s smart. You tend to clash because neither of you like backing down from a challenge.

But right now, in this moment, at this party, the only thing you can think about is how fucking tired you are and how warm he is.

The music is so loud it drowns everything out in your brain. The few thoughts that make it through the overwhelm of sound are fuzzy and staticky. The cling and slip around in your head like syrup. The worst parts about parties are, funnily enough, working to cancel out the main reason you can’t fall asleep in your own bed at night: overthinking.

That and the fact that you haven’t sleep in forty-eight hours. An energy drink and an iced coffee count as a full nights sleep, right? You’re sure the heart palpitations are normal.

You manage to keep up with the steady flow of the group conversation, but as the night wears on, talking becomes harder and harder and just plain processing the words being said slowly turns into an impossible task. At some point, someone else squeezed onto the couch— you think it might be Chris? Ada did say he was coming late— so now you’re pressed against the one and only Leon Kennedy, and he’s radiating heat like a furnace.

Like you, he opted for a slightly more casual approach to the house party. Of course, he’s a guy, so his wardrobe was probably never that big, but still. It’s nice to see someone else in a sweatshirt and jeans.

You at least put on your favorite jeans! You call them your hot jeans, for self explanatory reasons. So what if you’re wearing an oversized sweatshirt? It’s cold!

You jolt in place, not realizing your eyes had slipped close and the conversation had continued on without you. Something prickles in the back of your head. An instinctual sort of thing.

Don’t fall asleep in public places.

Don’t fall asleep at someone’s house you don’t know.

You know the owner of the house, you think. You’ve been here once or twice. But you don’t know everyone at the party and where your friends have gone because they’re not in the group talking here and you should probably stand up soon, to wake yourself up, don’t let your friends down, don’t be that girl who falls asleep at the party, don’t—

You jolt again.

Wake up. You tell yourself. Leon’s looking at you out of the corner of his eye, but you ignore it.

It feels like a record skip. You’ll blink, and the conversation isn’t the same as when you first closed your eyes. The song isn’t the same. Were the lights always this bright?

“Whew!” Ada whistles from above. When did she stand up? “Someone’s got final’s exhaustion written all over their face!”

The group laughs and you do too, but it sounds different. Leon doesn’t. Why isn’t he laughing?

You jolt again. Harder this one. A full body shake. You wince as your knee knocks into Leon’s.

“Sorr—“

“Stop that.” He grumbles, and oh. A warm, solid hand snakes around your waist and pulls you closer. Closed to that warm, stupidly comfortable side.

This is wrong. It’s Leon. It’s Leon. You can’t. And this is a party, and your friends are here—

“Stop being stupid,” You can feel his chest rumble from where your cheek is pressed flush against it, and when did that happen? He picks up your left arm and drapes it across his stomach, then picks up your right arm and wraps it around his lower pack. “Squeeze.”

You listen, and wow. Who has time to go to the gym this much and be an academic rival? You feel like you’re slacking. Maybe you need to make time to get some—

“I can hear you thinking,” He says, voice deep and rumbly. It’s honestly a miracle you can hear him over the music. It’s probably because your face is pressed against his chest. If you strain, you can feel the dull thud of his heart.

“You have a heart?” You say, half-delirious with exhaustion. It comes out more as a question than a statement

“Mhm,” He rumbles. “I am in possession of one. Great observation princess.”

You frown into his chest. “Why are you always so mean? You call me that stupid name. I’m not a princess.”

“I’m not mean. Whoever said princess was a mean nickname? You decided that on your own.”

“Then how come you call me that?”

“Because,” He huffs, repositioning to a more slouched position that’s more comfortable for your neck. The arm tightens around your waist.

It’s nice. It’s possessive. Protective. No one’s ever really done that for you before. Usually it’s you doing the protecting.

You don’t want to relax. You can’t. You can’t.

“Because,” He continues, “Princesses need to be taken care of. Especially smart, stubborn princesses who never pause for one second. Not even when they should.”

You should get up. Apologize for how weird you’re being. Have another coffee or energy drink. Join the party. Do something that isn’t this.

“Go to sleep,” He says, his voice like a warm blanket settling and slipping into your mind. “Nothing‘s going to happen to you while I’m here. No one is going to be mad at you for sleeping. And if they are, I’ll kick their ass. Go to sleep.”

It’s easy to give in after that.

You sag, boneless. Like a puppet with it’s strings cut. You inhale deeply, breathing in the deep, rich scent that’s distinctly Leon.

Just for a few minutes. Because Leon’s watching. He won’t let something happen to you. Just for a few minutes. You’ll get up soon. You will.

He tucks you closer to him. “Sleep.”

You’re out like a light.

—

“No way, she’s actually asleep?”

“Holy shit Leon, did you drug her?”

“I did not.”

“Well, thanks, for whatever weird magic-spell you cast. Seriously. We’re all starting to get worried about her. She doesn’t take any breaks and she doesn’t let anyone help. Last week a librarian found her asleep on the printer. Fully standing.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m going to start inviting you to our apartment if it means she’ll actually get some fucking sleep. It’s unsettling finding her in the same position as when I left like, six hours beforehand.”

“Don’t worry. She’s in good hands.”

—

It’s horrific, running into him in the library.

What makes it more horrible is the fact that you’re ugly crying silently in the English textbook section, because it’s always empty. You’re ugly crying in the English textbook section of the university library and Leon Kennedy just walked into the aisle.

You sniff, lifting your head from your knees to stare up at him from the ground. He has a knack for finding you at your lowest, it would seem.

“We’ve got to stop seeing each other like this, princess.”

“Oh?” You sniff hard, running a hand across your face as if that will clear up your red rimmed, puffy eyes, the tear tracks on your face, or the flush on your nose. The action at least wipes away the snot. “I wasn’t aware you ever fell asleep on me at a party. Did I ever find you crying in the English textbook section of the library?”

He tilts his head. “Why the English textbook section? It’s one of your best subjects.”

“It’s the emptiest section. Plus, anyone looking for an English textbook at this hour isn’t going to bat an eye at me.” You wrap your arms around your legs and hug them to your chest. “What are you doing here?”

“One of your roommates called Ada. They said you haven’t been home since this morning. They thought you might’ve been at hers, or with me.”

You snort. “It’s like they don’t even know me.”

He rolls his eyes. “I think they were hoping you’d be there. I think anyone who knows you knew you’d be here.”

“Crying in the English section?”

“In the library, dumbass.”

He stalks forward, leaning back against the bookshelf across from you and sliding his hands into his sweatpants pockets.

“Tell me. Is your pathological avoidance to asking for help conscious or not?”

You kick out, one shoed foot catching him in the shins. “Dick.”

He shrugs. “Just want to know. I can’t exactly gloat over scoring two points above you if you’re not in top form. I want a fair fight.”

“Is that what you're here for?” You ask suddenly, everything in your body going rigid. “You think this is funny?”

“No,” He says calmly. “I’m here because you’re being stupid again. You know what’s not healthy, or smart?”

He gestures to you. You, sitting on the floor, tears drying on your face. “This. Going out to parties to make your friends happy when you should be at home, sleeping. Studying for so long you end up looking like your boyfriend of eight years just broke up with you. Come on, princess. Where’s those brains you brag about?”

“They’re up here,” You tap your forehead. Against your will, your eyes burn, tears welling up, your face tightening. “And they’re tired.”

You drop your head into your hands, forgoing your silent crying of earlier in the place of open mouth sobbing. You can’t help it. You’re just so tired. So done with it all. With trying to keep up, with trying to make space, with trying to make time. With doing your best and it not being enough. You’re tired of being tired.

“Annnd there it is. Come here.”

He lowers himself to the floor next to you, tucking you close in a similar fashion as that night at the party.

“Come on, same thing as before. Hold onto me. Give yourself a minute.”

You wrap your arms around his middle, same way as last time, burying your face into his shoulder. Someone could see. Someone you know might see you crying and think—

He reaches a hand up and pulls the hood of your sweatshirt over your head.

“There. Now no one can see your face. Stop worrying. Just cry, princess.”

You sniffle. “I’m getting snot on your sweatshirt.”

“It’s had worse on it.”

“Gross.”

You can practically feel the eye roll. “Can you stop being dirty-minded and focus on something productive? Like crying? Or not crying, if that would make you feel better.”

You shift, so your head is lying against his shoulder instead of smashed into it like before.

“Why do you care if I feel better?”

Why do you care?

He shrugs against you.

“Told you,” He pushes your hood back a bit, tapping you on the forehead with his pointer finger. “My competition’s no fun if she’s not taking care of herself. How else is she gonna kick my ass?”

“I can take care of myself just fine. I don’t need you to swoop in here, Leon.”

“Mhm,” He says. “And i’m sure you do great at it, considering you’re still alive and kicking my ass at those stupid socratic seminars. Consider this… self-care. In the face mask, getting your nails done way.”

“Who taught you self care?”

“Ada. We have face mask nights.”

You jolt up. “Is she—“

“She’s not my girlfriend, we’re not fucking, no she’s not going to be upset or care in any way about this. Calm down.”

You begrudgingly settle back against him.

“If anything,” He continues. “She’ll be excited to see you at more parties in the coming months.”

You frown. “I never said—“

“You only go to parties if your friends physically drag you or when you feel confident enough in your grades and the general state of your life. It’s really easy to tell which version of you shows up to the party. It’s the way you dress.”

“How so?”

He shifts slightly. Guilt twinges in your stomach as you realize how uncomfortable he must be.

“You wear your pick-me-up pants when you’re dragged there. The ones that make your ass look great.”

You sit up with a gasp. “My hot pants?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that what you call them?”

Your brain catches up to the rest of what he said. “Hold on. Did you just say—“

“I said what I said. I’m assuming there’s a reason you call them your hot pants.”

He smirks, and you flush.

“Moving onto more pressing matters,” He tilts his head at you. “You have two options this evening. Either I take you back to your place and you sleep in your own bed, or you come to my place and we binge watch the Oceans movies until you fall asleep.”

“How did you know I like the—“

“The icebreaker for club thing. You said they were your favorite movies.”

You look up at him. “You remembered?”

“You were wearing your hot jeans.”

“You’re the worst.”

He scans your face for a moment, eyes sparking with mirth and a little something less innocent. “Maybe.”

You sigh and lean back against him, exhaustion from all your crying hitting you at once.

“Nuh-uh, no sleeping here. You gotta pick one. My place or yours?”

You frown into his shoulder. “Ugh. Fine. Yours, but only because I wanna watch the Ocean’s movies. You better not have a disgusting frat house.”

“I do not. I do have popcorn and ice cream.”

“Ada bought those, didn’t she?”

“Nope,” He says, nudging you with his shoulder to stand. You clamber in gracefully to your feet, your head starting to pound. “Chris likes to have movie nights. It pays to be well stocked.”

Your cheeks warm as a large, steadying hand finds its way to the small of your back. “How many of my friends are you friends with?”

“I was friends with them first.”

“Ass.”

He chuckles incredulously. “For having friends?”

“Yes,” You say, letting him pull you to his side while you walk to your table where you left your stuff. Probably not the best idea to leave your entire net-worth unattended, but whatever. You were going through it. “How dare you.”

“Mmm. I see. My apologies, princess. I’ll tell Chris and Ada.”

“You get on that.”

You can’t help but smile as he helps you pack up your things, passing you items across the table and carefully zipping up your pencil case.

“Don’t touch my papers, I have a system.”

“Is the system absolute chaos?”

“Shut up.”

Once everything is packed up, you zip up your backpack, but before you can sling it on, Leon’s arm darts out and snags it right out from under you.

Your expression grows pinched. “I can carry my own bag, Leon.”

“I know you can.”

“Give me my bag.”

“No.”

You groan. “Why do you want to carry my bag?”

“See, there’s this thing called chivalry—“

“Oh my god, shut up. When have you and chivalry ever been synonymous?”

He shrugs. “Ever since I met the girl in the hot jeans who regularly kicks my ass academically.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Mmm,” He hums, wrapping an arm around your waist and walking you towards the doors to the library. “And you’re stubborn. Come on. Brad Pitt and George Clooney are waiting for you.”

You sigh dramatically, hiding a small smile in your hand.

Maybe you could get used to this.

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

[everwalldigan]

Thinking of a sentient Gotham AU where she makes Bruce her champion and stuff, and it basically makes B immortal until his mission is complete. Until Gotham is rid of corruption and it's the utopia that B dreams of making it, he's not going to die.

Like, he stopped aging in his mid thirties and no damage done to him is permanent. Bane breaking his back? Gotham healed it up good as new, every time he SHOULD die? He doesn't.

This can go one of two ways with the Batfam:

1) His children are unaffected by his mission and he has to watch them grow old and die.

2) Gotham extends her claim onto his children as well and they are also unable to die.

I prefer option 1 but what do you think?

Btw, this idea is heavily inspired by this post:

https://www.tumblr.com/smallandangry24/739827927778230272/headcanon-that-gotham-accepted-the-waynes-as-a?source=share

And I kind of see it as a offshoot and continuation of that post.

I actually really like this idea as an in universe explanation to Bruce’s seeming invulnerability (I mean WE know he can’t be permanently hurt cause you can’t have Batman comics without Batman) and I think you could go into many interesting routes (some more depressing than others), the cruelest one would be if the protection extended to the batfam selectively or randomly fell away without their knowledge. The only one who I think the protection HAS to extend to is dick because he’s been around almost exactly as long as Bruce and survived almost as many death experiences

Bruce would have to find out about this protection through a death experience (pretty early on, I’d say in the first 3 years) that he’s 100% certain he couldn’t have made it out of (or a few. Or MANY) and in this scenario, he found out (with many grey hairs) that that protection extended to Dick. That could also be one of the reasons why he let dick go out on his own more, because he trusted that Gotham will see to it that he’s back home safe.

With dick there’s the question of would that protection extend when he’s OUT of Gotham? Is there a perimeter of protection? Is that why for Jason to die his death had to occur outside of Gotham?

There’s also the question of the extent of injuries, Bruce could heal from his broken back but Babs was paralysed, does she not fall under the protection? Did Gotham deem the injury not life threatening enough to heal? (Liberally ignoring the dumb implant they gave her)

I’m not gonna delve into every single batfam member but like you get the gist. Thank you for the ask! :D

[metamatar]

how to be in a relationship when you are suicidally depressed but do not want to be manipulative (opinionated, by former suicidal but still depressed idiot). this is no guarantee that you aren't accused of it ofc, but this like. a good faith try at not being it.

wrote this because i feel like. everyone wants you to know that if you're suicidal you don't have like. the right? to be in a relationship which is unfair. and fuck that. but, i feel like there's way to manage? cope? with suicidality that are better than others.

do not use criticism directed at you as an opportunity to inform someone you're suicidal. it should def never be a part of an argument about something else, even if that's how you feel. exit the argument with a "sorry i cant deal with this right now, be back in x hours" if you're feeling suicidal because of an argument then please do coping mechanisms unrelated to your partner. making someone feel like they can't criticise you or you'll kill yourself is like the no. 1 thing you shouldn't do. it makes all relationships pretty false if someone can't be intimate/honest with you and the threat of suicide is so high stakes it stuffs all criticism. you can explain why 48 hours later. i cannot emphasise the value of your cool down even tbh for your suicidal feelings. i will kill myself after 48 hours is an underrated coping mechanism.

if you notice a specific criticism triggering you more than twice, let your partner know its a real trigger. they should ideally notice that you exited from a conversation multiple times for a specific reason. then you should have a conversation about whether that criticism is a deal breaker for you guys and if and how you want to work on it.

ideally, when you do tell your partner about being suicidal. it should be when you're not otherwise having a conflict and be clear about how close you are to making plans and maybe commit to checking in every few hours. the emmengard scale is very useful is communicating what kind of suicidal you are. if you do intend on a killing yourself, making someone feel complicit in it only makes sense if you want to actually blame them for it? like idk think about if you want them to really feel responsible.

be clear about the fact that you don't expect them to fix you and make it clear to them that they can't fix you. mental health is too complicated for that. can your relationship be a positive factor? yes, hugely so imo. can you involve them in setting up better routines and offering affirmations? def. its very valuable. but locating someone as the sole locus of responsibility is something most people really can't cope with, and tbh if that's what you're looking for, you should be upfront. maybe there's someone who wants that, but most people really cannot do it. you can't save me, but I would like your help in my attempt to save myself is imo. a decent attitude?

[captain-hawks]

OVERRATED // matsukawa issei x f!reader

You’re convinced that getting fingered is overrated. Your roommate shows you otherwise, since you’ve clearly never been with someone who knows what they’re doing.

2.6k — 18+, roommates to lovers, fingering, mattsun and those goddamn hands

A woman sits in a dark booth in the back corner of a restaurant, lower lip tucked between her teeth, fingers digging into the edges of her seat as she tries not to make it obvious that the man beside her has his hand up her skirt. 

“There’s no way it feels that good for her,” you scoff, arms crossed, eyes narrowed as you stare judgmentally at the television screen. 

Matsukawa looks from you, to the movie, and back again. “Getting fingered?”

Your eyes flit over to where your roommate’s sitting on the opposite end of the couch, one brow raised as he lifts a can of soda to his lips.

The woman on the television screen moans.

(This isn’t porn, for the record.)

“Yeah? I mean this is like, false advertising.”

Matsukawa blinks. “I literally do not think I’ve ever met a girl who doesn’t enjoy being fingered.”

A sudden surge of heat licks at the back of your neck at his words, and you force your attention back to the screen. “And just how many girls have you—actually, you know what. Nevermind. Don’t answer that.”

He lets out a quiet huff of a laugh, and the two of you are silent for another five minutes or so before he speaks up again.

“So you’ve never had an orgasm just from being fingered then.”

Matsukawa says it bluntly, plainly, like he’s completely unbothered by the prospect of casually discussing sex with you on your couch on a Friday night. 

“Nope,” you shake your head, popping the ‘P’ for emphasis.

He’s not looking at you when he replies, “That’s a shame.”

—

Your phone lights up with a notification for a text message from Matsukawa on Sunday morning while you’re still in bed. You’re pretty sure he left the apartment early to get breakfast with Hanamaki, and he’s yet to return.

Mattsun: can you text makki and tell him you think getting fingered is overrated Mattsun: he doesn’t believe me >>: …. >>: so like >>: sometimes makki can just maybe not know things Mattsun: you spent twenty minutes last week telling both of us about your last date who couldn’t get it up Mattsun: in detail Mattsun: with a donut and >>: OKAY YEAH YEAH Mattsun: :)

Collapsing back against your pillows, you groan before opening your text thread with Hanamaki.

>>: getting fingered is overrated, makki Hanamaki: wow he wasn’t kidding  Hanamaki: wild >>: now can you make sure he brings me home a coffee Hanamaki: k Hanamaki: u act like he would ever forget something u asked for >>: what’s that supposed to mean Hanamaki: also though Hanamaki: when are u guys going to fuck

You drop your phone on the mattress, looking around the room as if Hanamaki himself is sitting in the corner snickering at you. 

>>: i’m sorry what >>: who >>: how did we get here Hanamaki: at least ask HIM to finger u  Hanamaki: because this shit is DEpressing >>: i’m blocking your number Hanamaki: u’ve seen his hands right >>: bye Hanamaki: cool i’ll email u xo

Groaning, you bury your face under the covers. 

—

“I had an idea. A really dumb idea, actually. It’s kind of Makki’s fault, but—“

Matsukawa looks up from where he’s pouring a glass of water, brows furrowing. 

“—and honestly just feel free to say no and forget this ever happened—“

He blinks, putting down the cup and leaning against the counter, crossing his arms as he waits for you to fumble through this never ending lead up to a question that’s been eating at the back of your mind all week. 

“Can you uh…could you maybe…”

Matsukawa moves a little closer to you, leaning in, as if his proximity is going to help encourage you to drag the rest of the words from where they’re clinging to the backs of your teeth. 

“CouldyoufingermeinaplatonicwaysoIcanfigureoutifI’mjustbrokenorsomething.”

You say it all in a single breath. 

Matsukawa chokes. 

“You think you’re the problem?” he asks, taken aback. 

“I mean, yeah? If it’s supposed to feel good, and it doesn’t for me, then maybe I—“

“Go put on something that makes you feel sexy,” he interrupts you calmly.

Your heart lurches in your chest. “What? Right now!?” you squeak. 

Matsukawa walks over to the kitchen sink, glancing back at you over his shoulder as he slowly presses down the pump on the foaming soap and thoroughly washes his hands. 

You’re not sure how or why that sight alone already leaves your throat dry. 

He nods. “Put on whatever makes you feel good. It doesn’t matter what it looks like. We’re not going anywhere. And then go in my bedroom, lay down in my bed, and text me when you’re ready.”

Fifteen minutes later, you find yourself on your stomach in Matsukawa’s bed, legs idly kicking in the air to expel the nervous energy simmering in your gut. 

And while it was borderline mortifying trying to pick out something “sexy” to wear before tiptoeing into his bedroom, you realize why he said it now as you hit send on a message that simply reads “Ready.”

Because now that you’re lying here in a short, pleated skirt that’s lived in the back of your closet for years, thigh high socks, a delicate, lacy bralette that you’ve yet to find a reason to wear, and a thong with a little pink bow nestled just above your ass—

Now that you’re wrapped up in the familiar scent of Matsukawa’s body wash in a way that’s far more intimate than stealing his clothes or falling asleep on his shoulder on the couch—

Now that you know he’s seconds away from seeing you like this in his bed, from slipping his fingers beneath your skirt—

Well, you can already feel it—the slick, sticky arousal soaking its way into your panties. 

“Wow,” Matsukawa murmurs as he walks in, striding over to the foot of the bed. “Nice socks.”

You go to roll over, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious, and he shakes his head. “No, stay like that.”

Turning back onto your stomach, you push your phone aside, hugging one of his pillows to your face—though you almost regret it when you subsequently end up burying your nose in the warm and admittedly dizzying scent of him once more. Meanwhile, you feel the mattress dip as he climbs atop it. 

“If at any point you want me to stop, let me know, okay?”

You nod, and he slowly starts to run his hands up the backs of your thighs, stopping just shy of the hem of your skirt. 

“Didn’t you wear this to that costume party at Oikawa’s a few years ago?”

The first and only time you wore it, given how its meager length leaves almost nothing to the imagination. 

“Yeah,” you laugh, though it’s a little weak, given the way he’s now rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs against the inside of your thighs. 

Unintentionally, you spread your legs somewhat for him at the sensation, toes curling. He chuckles quietly. 

Matsukawa’s fingers finally slide up your skirt, his large hands resting on either of your ass cheeks. You try to fight the sudden urge to arch your spine into his touch. 

“Is this still okay?”

You nod, and he squeezes. 

A moan slips out past your lips before you can stop it. 

“Oh,” you breathe out, fingers grasping his silky dark green sheets for purchase as he begins to massage the globes of your ass. 

“Does that feel good?” he asks. 

He squeezes a little harder, and there’s a euphoric release of tension that seeps through your muscles.

“So good,” you mumble, face pressed sideways against his pillow. Which you may or may not have drooled on. 

Cool air licks and settles against your backside as Matsukawa grasps your skirt and pushes it out of the way. Your thong tightens against your skin with tension for a moment, snapping back lightly once he lets it go.

Sliding his palm down the center of your ass, he brings his hand back to your thighs and stretches his fingers outward, effectively spreading your legs further. You inhale, toes pressing down into the mattress at the foot of the bed. 

“Oh, do you want me to take these off?” he pauses, idly toying with the string of your thong. 

And while it would certainly be easier, there’s something about the evidence of your arousal soaking into the material, something about the way the lace tugs against your skin—

You shake your head. 

“Good, the bow is cute.”

He runs a finger over the delicate piece of ribbon, and you’re thankful he can’t see the embarrassing way you swallow in response. 

“Is flattery a part of the process?” you ask. 

You can almost hear the grin on his face as he slowly feathers a finger against the wet spot on your panties and replies, “Is it not working?”

“You’re terrible,” you laugh, despite the shiver that runs through you. 

“Save your breath.”

You turn slightly to look back at him, brows furrowed. “For wha—“

Your words are cut off by the moan that crawls up your throat without warning as the pad of Matsukawa’s middle finger suddenly slides down the length of your creamy slit. 

It catches you off guard, how good that little bit of contact feels. How sensitive you are for him. How—

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re wet,” he murmurs, one digit now circling around the rim of your puffy, fluttering entrance while another long finger draws through your folds once more. 

He’s hardly doing anything, and it already sounds obscene. 

Your chest burns, and your heart thunders in your chest as you find yourself arching your ass up off of the bed. The skirt flops back down over your backside in the process, and Matsukawa’s quick to push it back out of the way, his large hand pressing into the small of your back. 

The pillow case grows more damp against your cheek as you quietly pant against it. 

“Matsukawa,” you whine, hips pressing backward again as he ghosts a finger over your swollen clit before dragging two digits back through your folds. Your cunt aches. 

“You have to tell me if you don’t like how it feels, okay?”

He runs his thumb across your dripping hole. 

“Matsukawa,” you gasp again, one hand tightly grasping the top edge of the mattress. 

“Just tell me to stop, and I will,” he promises, slipping the tip of a finger into your entrance. Barely past the fingernail. 

“Issei, please,” you nearly sob, spreading your legs even further for him. “Don’t—don’t stop.”

He lets out a noisy, rough exhale. One that’s a stark contrast to his easy, syrupy tone. 

But you can hardly hear it as he slides his finger into your cunt, not stopping until he’s at the last knuckle. 

You can hardly hear it over the desperate, needy moan that he drags out of you on one finger alone. 

Matsukawa takes his time exploring your tight inner walls, alternating between pumping his finger in and out while you keen for him and keeping it lodged inside as he curls and strokes your wet channel. 

It’s never felt like this. 

Not with anyone. 

Not even with your own fingers. 

But this—

It feels like you’re burning from the inside out, like your nerves are on the verge of going up in flames. 

It’s just one long, deft finger sliding in and out of the eager, needy grip of your pussy. Your tight, soaking wet pussy that’s nowhere near full enough yet still pulsing and dripping with pleasure all the same. 

It’s just a single finger, and yet your voice is going hoarse from the moans tumbling from your lips, the repeated whimpers of Matsukawa’s name as your sticky arousal slides down the palm of his hand. 

“You’re so fucking wet,” he rasps, voice a little rougher than it was before. 

“I’m probably making a mess all over your bed,” you mutter against the pillow. 

“Good,” you swear you hear him breathe out before he asks, “Still overrated?” His free hand slides beneath the waistband of your thong,  wrapping around your hip bone. 

“It’s never, I’ve never—“ you gasp. 

“Because you sleep with guys who do it for themselves, who see it as a necessity to getting their dick inside of you,” Matsukawa replies in a calm tone that’s a stark contrast to the way you’re unravelling beneath him. “I just want you to feel good. This isn’t about me.”

And you’ve also never been fingered like this—face down, prone. With your pebbled nipples rubbing against your lace bralette and a too-short skirt rucked up around your waist. In a sopping wet thong that keeps rubbing against your clit every time Matsukawa nudges it out of the way, with thigh high socks that continue to slip down lower and lower as you writhe in pleasure against the mattress. 

You’ve never been fingered by Matsukawa Issei. Your roommate and your best friend who’s a little too handsome for his own good. Who you’ve had more wet dreams about than you can count. 

Matsukawa Issei and his stupidly long, dexterous fingers. Two of which are now stuffed in your tight hole, massaging your inner walls while you drool on his pillow like it’s his cock that’s stuffed inside of you instead. 

Matsukawa Issei, who’s somehow on the verge of making you forget every dick you’ve ever had inside of you by fucking you with his fingers and his fingers alone. 

“Don’t flatter me that much yet, not till I make you come,” he murmurs, stroking your throbbing clit. 

And oh—you fucking said that last bit out loud. 

Not that you can bring yourself to care when the coil of heat in your gut is wrapped so tight you can hardly breathe. Every muscle in your body tenses under the liquid pleasure that sears its way down your spine with a bite that has you trembling, sheets slipping beneath the feeble grasp of your shaking hands. 

You end up pushing yourself onto your knees as Matsukawa purposely slows his pace, like he’s not ready for you to come yet. Like he wants to edge you until the whole goddamn mattress is soaked.

“Issei,” you whimper in a small, breathless voice that you can hardly believe is your own. 

And suddenly you find yourself being tugged backwards into his lap, your legs spread, your back to his chest. You barely have time to marvel over the feeling of his hard cock pressing into your ass through his pants, not when his lips ghost against the shell of your ear before he rests his chin against your shoulder. 

Matsukawa slides his fingers back inside of you, and you moan at the angle, at the way his mouth ends up tucked into the crook of your neck when you roll your hips into his touch. His lips are hot against your skin as he traces the column of your neck, cunt squelching wetly while your pussy greedily takes in the stretch of his digits over and over. 

And then he presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your pulse point, biting and sucking at the sensitive spot while your cunt throbs, as you shake with a full-body shiver, as the damn of pleasure inside of you snaps and overflows with an orgasm that leaves tears in your eyes as you sob his name. 

Matsukawa tilts your chin and finds your mouth with his, claiming your lips in a messy, spit-soaked kiss as you ride out your climax. 

It’s only once you stop shuddering in pleasure that you remember how hard he felt beneath you, and you go to slip a hand between your bodies—

“It’s okay,” he exhales, sounding just as out of breath as you feel.

“You don’t want me to—“ You try not to sound as disappointed as you feel over his sudden rejection.

His eyes go a little wide. “No, no. No, it’s that. I just…uh…I already…”

You blink at him. “I didn’t think that was actually a thing that happens.”

Did he really just come in his—

Matsukawa rubs the back of his neck, biting his bottom lip. “It’s never happened to me before, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh?”

For some reason, you feel more than a little smug at these words.

“First time for everything I guess,” he grins.

“Overrated?” you ask coyly, warmth swelling in your chest.

Matsukawa shakes his head, lips brushing against yours when he leans in and murmurs against your mouth, “Definitely not.”

[welp-back-on-my-bs]

Welcome to the fucked up mind of Star!

Today, I'm going into Ren theory crafting because I don't got ideas for Haru and Towa tbh even though I love them both.

Soooo~ two theories i got that can kind of be tied together for the boyyyy.

Ren and Major Depressive Disorder.

Ren is quite irritable, as we can tell by the fact he doesn't put up with any of Haru's shit. He just wants to hide in his room, watch some b horror, and play his mobile games.

He is also quite hopeless. He doesn't believe in just about anything, it seems, and is extremely cynical about the world and those around him.

We don't know Ren before Darkwick or his demon pact, so we can't say for certain that he has ever drifted away from anything he was passionate about.

Look at me in the eyes and tell me that Ren has energy to even do the bare minimum.

And there are some other things that we would just need to get a bit more into his head about, but we can't exactly do that. Even though we do get other characters' perspectives sometimes.

Ren and Truama

So, from chapter 3, we already know that Ren doesn't have a good relationship with water. He actively avoids the water habitat in Jabberwock and clearly seems scared about going into the water later on in that chapter. He does it because he HAS to, and that's it.

Ren has also probably experienced harassment, bullying, or even sa. He has probably looked into what his rights are and vehemently puts that up to be able to defend himself from anything bad that could ever happen to him again.

I've seen this scene read as Ren is getting fluterd because he touched MC.

Whitch, makes sense, but let's expand on that. He is someone who often and clearly states his physical boundaries often. Here, he oversteps that on reflex. He probably feels guilty and like a hypocrite for doing so here.

Physical toutch could, in some way, be connected to a trauma.

Maybe even his stigma now that I think of it, it's probably different from Subaru's, but maybe he is an empath where he feels other people's feelings when he touches them and major depression is the setback to being an empath.

Mmm, name breakdown, too, because that would be funnn

Shiranami = white + wave

A wave of purity? A tidal wave? Idk

Ren = lotus = purity, enlightenment, and spiritual growth

So this feels like foreshadowing to Ren's character development, where he hoepfully continues to bond with anomalies and want to care for them on his own instead of obligation/forced to.

[bleedingichorhearts]

“𝐈’𝐦 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬…” {2/2}

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: I believe the Big Blue has the worst abandonment issues. He was a single, loyal Primarch there for a second wasn’t he? Also, some of these Primarchs were kind of hard to appease.

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: The “Primarchs” reacting to you saying “I’m too old for this.” Simple as that.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

+@c-u-c-koo-4-40k.

TW // Slight Angst.

|°ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ°| |°ɪᴄʜᴏʀ’ꜱ ᴀᴏ3°| |°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°| • {Part 1}

Angron; “The Red Angel:”

Angry boi, angry boi… is not angry at you for saying such. How can he be? Life can be like a slave to one’s soul. He understands you in a way, not of your words, but the possible meaning behind it. He might… ponder with you on it, on your simple words. His nails ticking at him, but it’s nothing compared to the thought of your impending fall. Perhaps he shall hold you closer? No… no.

Roboute Guilliman; “The Avenging Son:”

Pauses in his work to look up at you. Those tried, pretty blue eyes of his roaming of your figure in sudden deep thought. A thought he had never really considered much since— He hums, finally standing up from his work and coming over to sweep you off your feet and nuzzle into you; inhaling your scent. He doesn’t wish to be alone once more…

Mortarion; “Death Lord:”

Surprisingly scared of your words. Something akin to his 9th brother. He doesn’t wish to hear you say those words again. He gets goosebumps just thinking about it, and might have a secret depressive episode only you can cure. Tell him how much you are doing; how well you are doing, not the opposite, please? He doesn’t wish to loose so much…

Magnus The Red; “Crimson King:”

Would also hear your words through warp, your soul, and it’s only then does he truly realize your mortality. He knows you’re mortal, yes, but he just… he didn’t think it would be so soon to realize the extent. Don’t be too surprised if you see him trying to commune with the warp more than necessary to rid you of your mortal shell…

Horus Lupercal; “The Lupercal:”

This man. This man knows what to do, and do you know what he does? Pampers the shit out of you: would make you stay in bed, massage you, anything to make sure you won’t say those words again. Though, the thought haunts him, and may drive him a bit… “passionate.”

Lorgar Aurelian; “The Urizen:”

Would stare at you like you had two heads. You? Old? Nonsense! You speak of nonsense! He worships you nearly everyday: 24/7 how could you claim yourself “old?” Would he have to show you what beauty you hold? What creation and power you wield? Well… he wouldn’t mind showing you again and again until you’re the brightest, glowing star in the his galaxy.

Vulkan; “Lord of Drakes:”

Another that says “You? Old? Nonsense!” This giant of a drake stuffy will swiftly pick you up in his arms (maybe do a twirl) before giving you a gentle kiss. Letting you sit on his arms as he will carry you around within his arms the rest of the day. No, you are not leaving him, no matter how hard you whine. He doesn’t like the thought of something he cherishes very, very dearly leaving him so soon…

Corvus Corax; “The Raven Lord:”

Yet another that unfortunately stares, and is… unsure of your words. There is an ache in his chest, a certain well known pain… He isn’t oblivious of your mortality, but he’s not sure if he should acknowledge it either. You might find some of his little crows surrounding you more often, and that’s when he’ll acknowledge it, and perhaps his sons will too. Crows take care of each other after all.

Alpharius & Omegon; “The Last Primarch:”

Hits them harder than you think. They have… shared you within the legion. You cuddled them, no matter who it was. You entertained them, no matter what they did. They didn’t think too much on your mortality, but now they definitely are. Perhaps they can find something in their blackmail archives to ensure your life? They don’t like to loose many… like Omegon.

[chameleon66]

Her Funny Bunny

Author’s note: I haven’t uploaded a fic in a while (Because who thought depression and high school was a good combination). I just really haven’t found the spark in a while but I just really want to write something for Jax as he’s a very controversial character in the TADC fandom and I think he could be a real sweetie. I’m doing much better now and I hope to upload more in 2025 (But no promises) . I hope you enjoy this fic I wrote and have a good day/night.

Warnings: Cheer up tickles, teasing, angst, mean jokes (Let me know if I need to add anything)

Word count: 2907

It was quiet at the moment, which was pretty abnormal for the life of a cast member in The Amazing Digital Circus, but the only reason it was quiet was because the adventure hadn’t started yet. Right then the gang were all hanging out in the main area playing charades.

You know, just trying to enjoy a bit of normalcy before Caine comes to take them to that day's adventure. It was Ragatha’s turn while Zooble, Gangle, Pomni, and Kinger had to guess, they had all taken note of Jax’s absence but didn’t bring it up as no one saw it as something worrying or they didn’t want to bring it up for fear of bringing down the mood (cough, Ragatha, cough)

At the moment Ragatha was standing up waving in a highly sophisticated manner then grabbing the skirt of her dress and curtsying down. While the others tried to guess who she was.

“Some kind of queen?” Gangle thought out loud.

“Or princess?” Pomni added.

“An insect collection.” Kinger guessed for the 57th time.

Ragatha then blew a kiss out to them and said “The brave knights have arrived!”

A look of realization came across Pomni’s face and she said “Princess Loo!”

Ragatha stopped mid motion and nodded at Pomni who immediately cheered for herself.

“Great job Pomni.” Ragatha praised it, it was nice seeing everyone being so happy and casual. “Okay, Zooble, your go.”

Zoble groaned but regardless stood and went to the middle of the circle they had formed, they stood for a moment clearly considering who to pretend to be, then as if a lightbulb went off her eyes flashed then the illusion of a smirk came across their features.

Zooble crossed their arms over their chest and began tapping their foot rapidly against the ground with a scowl on their face. Clearly pretending to be mad.

Everyone went into thinking but Ragtha did make a mental note of how it was similar to how Jax would thump his foot against the ground when he was upset.

Then Zooble placed one fist on her hip and let the other fall before she broke out into improvised words, in a tone of voice that felt more alive than her normal tone. “I’m indirectly communicating to you all that I’m unhappy that no one is feeling sad so now I must go forth and cause pain and suffering because it’s the only way to cope with my big scary feelings.”

The others all began laughing though tried to cover their mouths with their hands, it was clear who Zooble was portraying but they were laughing too hard to try and guess.

Happy they got a reaction encouraging Zooble to keep going. “Oh yeah I’ll gladly jump off a building but heaven forbid a ear of corn crosses my path, cause otherwise I’ll hide under the nearest couch and shake as if the corn had threatened to kill me.”

Now everyone was practically dying of laughter while rolling around on the ground. Even Ragtaha was laughing quietly behind her hand.

Ragatha’s non button eye drifted away from the group only for her laugh to go silent and her smile drop as her eyes landed on the tall purple rubber hose cartoon looking rabbit who was partially hidden away by the wall of the other room.

Jax clearly wasn’t trying to hide his reaction though because his foot was thumping softly against the floor, his eyes were big with hurt yet with small square shaped pupils trembling in them and his ears were droopy. Small things one probably would think meant much if they hadn’t been secretly dating Jax for about six months.

A quick side eyed glance back the others told Ragatha they hadn’t become aware of the youngest cast member's presence. But when Ragtha glanced back Jax wasn’t behind the wall anymore instead walking out towards the others with a grin a bit too wide adoring his face.

The others still hadn’t noticed Jax until he was right behind Zooble until Jax spoke up. “Hey looks like something’s got you all in stitches, care to let me in on the joke.”

Everyone was gasping between laughs but Kinger calmed his first and then said. “I honestly don’t remember what we were doing.” Before falling back in hysterical laughter.

Jax only shrugged his shoulders before walking closer to Zooble before stopping just behind them. “Oh well that’s ok. I’ll just create myself something to laugh at.”

He then grabbed both of Zooble’s arms detaching them from their body and throwing them across the floor and through the door that led outside the circus tent.

“Ugh! Jax you f%#king @$$ho/e!” Zooble yelled as they began to make their way back to their missing limbs while Jax laughed at their misery, though it didn’t escape Ragatha how Jax’s laugh stopped and his face became less animatedly happy when Zooble was out of ear’s reach.

The awkward silence wasn’t long though as a grand puff of smoke transported Caine above their heads as he shouted “Good morning my little superstars! Who’s ready for a grand adventure?”

The adventure that day was pretty small, they were taking turns running an obstacle course Caine had made and whoever completed the course in the fastest time would be dubbed the winner.

Each of them went one at a time but it was clear that none of them were really built to be athletes as all of them even failed to complete the course. It could’ve been because they were all not very athletic or because Caine had added fire, razor blades, sharks, bees, and other stuff to make the course more ‘exciting’.

Between each person’s turn they all just stood off and watched them, while waiting for her turn though Ragatha noticed how docile Jax had seemed to become, while he was still making sarcastic comments and jokes at others expense they weren’t as sharp as his normally were.

She also saw how he had distanced himself away from everyone with his face being all glum with his normally ever present smile not there unless he knew somebody was looking at him.

By the time everyone had run the course, Caine declared that no one had won because no one finished so that meant they got no reward. After Caine had reset all of their avatars to rid them of their injuries he sent them off to go and do their own thing for the rest of the night.

Jax and Ragatha went with each other to Ragatha’s room to hang out. They walked in silence which was something else that concerned Ragatha as Jax was never quiet. Had Zooble’s comments really gotten to him that bad?

Ragatha really felt bad for Jax, sure he was a jerk to the others but just like everyone else here he had his whole life taken away from him when he put on that headset and being a jerk was just his way of keeping himself sane.

Ragatha knew she couldn’t let Jax just keep being sad so she decided to employ her best tactic guaranteed to cheer him.

Once they reached her room she opened the door and let Jax walk in first before going in after him. She shut the door behind her and readied herself to set her plan into motion.

“So Dollface, don’t you think it’s not far I didn’t win despite making it furthest on the course.” Jax sat down on her bed with one leg crossed over the other. Target achieved.

“Oh totally Jax.” She famed a sweet tone, then made a soft turn to face Jax. “If that is your real name.”

Jax’s ears and eyes perked up as he looked more directly at her in confusion. “What?’’

Ragatha smirked. “How do I know that this isn’t one of Caine’s tricks and that you’re one of his NPCs pretending to be Jax.”

Jax titled his head and lifted one eyebrow. “You’re taking crazy Doll, I’m not some dumb NPC.”

Ragatha’s smile only grew more mischievous with that comment. Of course she knew it was Jax but there was no he’d accept this without hearing a good reason first.

“You sure?” Ragatha leaned forward til her face was inches from Jax’s. “Cause earlier me and the others were playing charades and Zooble pretended to be you, which made me realize just how easy you are to impersonate.”

Jax’s face flushed a darker purple though he tried to hold the stern look on his face. “I’m not an NPC Rags, I’m Jax, your extremely handsome boyfriend.”

At last, the final part of Ragatha’s improvised plan was set. Now it was up to her.

“Well then you wouldn’t mind if I ran a simple test.”

Jax’s face now read as more curious above all else and seeing no sign that he wasn’t down to clown (As he would say) she wasted no time running then pouncing on top of him. Effectively holding him down with her own weight as Jax might have been the tallest in the circus but due to his thinness he was also very light weight wise.

She then proceeded to grab his sides with her plush doll hands and began to mercilessly squeeze and poke at them.

Jax’s goofy smile went back to his face and his face got blushy as he laughed. Ragatha immediately rejoiced at her small victory so far.

“Hahahahaha how is this hahahahaha helping?” Jax tried to squirm in her hold but her hands persistently remained on his form, attacking his waist with vigor.

“If you are truly my Jaxxy then I’d expect you to be just a precious sweetie while being tickled.” Ragatha explained, though she kept her true motive unsaid.

Through the months of them secretly being together Ragatha had come to see that Jax was a very affectionate guy who more than anything wanted to see her smile. So she had noticed whenever she was down, Jax would take the first opportunity when they were alone to tickle her until she swore to him she felt better.

And after she got him back a few times she had come to see that tickles were just one of Jax’s ways to show love. She had read in a book from the library Caine had for them at the circus that people sometimes project how they want to be shown love and do it to others in hopes they start doing it back.

Though he had never admitted to her, she had seen it in how genuinely happy he seemed after and how he always wanted to remain all snuggled up against her after too. So if there was one way she knew to make Jax feel better, it was tickling him to a pulp.

After Ragatha felt that Jax’s walls were down she spread her hands up to his ribs and began to get at them causing Jax’s laugh to jump up and become super cackly.

“Ragathahahahaha! It’s reheheheheheheheally mEHEHEHEHE.” Jax pleaded through his forever shut teeth.

“Hmmm-.” Ragatha hummed in consideration. “Jax is pretty ticklish on his ribs. But I think I better keep going for a little longer just to be sure.”

“Nohohohohohohoho! Ragdoll! Hahahahahahahaha.” Jax kept trying to squirm away from her hands but whenever he did her other hand would tickle the other side harder causing his body to try and squirm away from the opposite hand.

“You do have a super endearing laugh like Jax.” She observed

“You also have a lovely smile like him, you squint your eyes tighter when I hit a particularly bad spot.” She poked her fingers into the soft spots just below his ribs to prove it, and sure enough Jax’s eye shu tighter hand he let out a squeak with it.

“You also aren’t even trying to get me off you just like Jax..” She continued rattling off small things Jax was doing, keeping them sweet yet teasy which effectively flustered him.

“Wehehehehell Mahahahahahybe I’m Just lehehehehetting you hahahahahave your fun.” Jax retorted, trying to defend his lack of attempts to escape.

“Oh really?” Ragatha questioned, her eyes locking on her next target for tickles. “Since when is my boyfriend known for being a gentleman?”

“I cahahahahahahan behehehe nice whehehehen I wahahannahaha.”

“I’m still not quite sold on you mister.” Ragatha brought herself up and kissed the spot where Jax’s nose would be if he had one, making his laugh go all squeaky with a gentle hum to it.

“I had better do one more test just to be 100%.” Ragatha turned her body around and sat in front of Jax’s feet. Despite her now being off him Jax didn’t make an effort to get away from her despite most likely knowing where she’d be going. Instead just laying there limply trying to catch his breath.

Ragatha gave him a second to breathe before she took both of his feet in her arms and while holding them in her grasp with one hand she used the index finger on the other hand to gently tickle the silly pink heart paw pads he had on his feet.

Jax absolutely lost it. “HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHOHOHOHO F%#K NOT THEHEHEHEHEHRE!”

His feet had always been one of those spots where you didn’t need a lot of force in your tickles to make him squeal like a tea kettle.

His feet had always been Ragatha's favorite tickle spots too, not only because it got the best reactions from him but also because his feet were just adorable to her. They had the appearance of paws with three toes and paw pads on the bottom of them. but the full anthropomorphic functionality of feet.

She was also happy she had chosen to sit in front of him to hold his feet because now she got a great view of his cute face, which only got cuter when he was being tickled. His eyes scrunched together, his ears flop haphazardly with his head as his body twisted trying to escape the tickly sensations, and his smile would be genuinely sweet and freaking precious.

Unlike the mischievous or fake smiles he’d give everyone else. This smile was only for her eyes.

Ragatha’s hand stopped ticking up and instead opted to gently trace each of his paw pads, starting with the biggest one then moving up to his toes then back down.

“HEHEHEHEHEHEHE! IT TICKLES!” Jax was giggling as the sensation was now a bit too soft to provoke his loud boisterous laughter from him.

“My Funny Bunny boy does have very ticklish feet, doesn’t he?” Ragatha’s tone now was softer along with her tickles.

“YEHEHEHEHEHESS HE DOHOHOHOHOES.” Jax agreed with her.

“Cute soft paws, squishy sides and ribs, yep that solves it.” Ragatha released Jax’s feet and she watches as he curled up while still giggling.

“I guess that checks out, you must be the real Jax.” Ragatha sat and watched Jax as he slowly stopped laughing and sat up to face her.

“Well I could have told you that.” He remarked with a playful eye roll.

Ragatha chuckled, “Yeah, sure you could.”

Jac then dramatically flopped back down on her bed, his head landing on one of the pillows near the headboard. “Come now Dollface, join the Funny Bunny Boy. You know you wanna.”

Ragatha fought to hold back her giggle at her boyfriend's silly antics but she was already moving towards him as she said back. “Alright I’m coming Jax.”

“Awww… No sweet nicknames.” Jax pouted.

Ragatha rolled her eyes as she settled on top of Jax and laid her head down on his chest while placing a kiss just under his chin. “Don’t worry Jax, you’ll always be my sweet little bunny.”

Her hands went in different directions as one went to his free hand to rest in while the other went up one of his ears to begin petting and rubbing it.

Jax sighed as he sank deeper into her bed letting himself enjoy the feeling of his ears being pet and the pressure of his Ragdoll over top of him.

Ragatha smiled, her plan had been a massive success, her boyfriend was now happy, relaxed, and his mind had been taken off the other’s hurtful words.

Cause no matter how hard Jax denied it he was still a human who put up a false image of himself, this cruel, mean, unshakable guy, just because that’s how he protected himself from the fear of being forever trapped in a video game and never being able to free. As much as Gangle and Ragatha pretended and wore a mask, Jax did too though his was far better concealed.

“I love you Jaxxy.” Ragatha whispered only to realize that Jax had fallen asleep. With a sigh she pulled her quilt over them both and let rest come to her as she laid in her boyfriend’s arms.

[cyborg-3005]

Shadow is alone in Sonic 3:

an analysis of the tragedy of his character in the movie vs SA2.

spoilers for movie 3 below.

one of the most depressing parts of Shadow in Sonic 3, to me, is that he is completely alone for most of the movie. not in the literal sense, of course, but more in the sense of how everyone around him treats him along with how the world as a whole views him.

this stands in stark contrast to SA2’s telling of his story. in SA2, shadow is still lonely and somewhat isolated, but one person is at least a bit connected with him over the course of the game: rouge.

shadow sees rouge in that dire moment on prison island and thinks of maria, making it clear that he’s beginning to think of the two in connection. when rouge is in danger, he saves her, not wanting to see someone else he knows die like this. in the next cutscene on the ark, a flashback of a conversation between shadow and maria is immediately followed by a conversation between shadow and rouge in the same place, where rouge thanks shadow for saving her, and questions shadow if there were deeper reasons for him saving her than just for the emeralds

throughout the rest of the dark story, shadow and rouge not only work as teammates, but there are repeated parallels and connections drawn between maria and rouge. shadow, in some ways, has begun to view rouge in similar ways to maria, or at least value rouge in some way.

when rouge is found out as a spy, rouge grills shadow for possibly not being the real ultimate lifeform and possibly even his memories being implanted. shadow clearly takes rouge’s words to heart, as his tone of voice when he’s reaffirming that he’s still himself is shaky and not very resolved.

ultimately, shadow forms some kind of attachment to rouge, or at least a basic connection on some level. likewise, rouge also seems to at least appreciate him in some manner. shadow isn’t truly alone in SA2 with rouge around. it’s no replacement for maria, of course, but it’s something.

on the other hand, shadow in the movie doesn’t have a rouge.

in the beginning, he is on the run from GUN. he is frustrated, angry, confused, depressed, scared, and most importantly alone. no one, at least in tokyo, even is allied with shadow in any capacity. gerald isn’t there yet, there’s no rouge, no one, not even eggman, to greet him as an ally or teammate in the beginning. in SA2, shadow at least finds an ally in eggman when he escapes his capsule, but here, he has no one.

he doesn’t even remotely trust sonic and his friends since he, in shadow’s words, jumped out of a GUN helicopter.

he goes to the old GUN base to find any semblance of comfort or familiarity, and it’s seemingly empty upon his arrival. when gerald reveals himself to shadow, shadow immediately confides in the professor about his pain. he’s so desperate to share his grief and cling onto anyone that can sympathize with him, but from the beginning, gerald maintains distance with shadow. gerald convinces shadow that destroying the planet is the way to stop his pain, but he’s never really the teammate or friend shadow needs. he’s no rouge.

his brief interactions with stone in london again show that he’s clinging to anyone that might even be remotely close to him or on his side, but since stone is oblivious to gerald’s true plan and thus shadow maintains distance, shadow never really connects with him super deeply… not to mention how they’re around each other for about like 20 minutes at most before tails literally flushes them out of the sewers, with shadow leaving stone to complete his mission.

shadow does briefly see the connection between sonic and himself when he injures tom, but he doesn’t have or give himself any time to process it.

from there, shadow is only around gerald and eggman, who are in their own brewing conflict. shadow thus is just kinda there, not able to have time alone with gerald, or connect significantly with him. gerald only reaches out to shadow to aggravate him enough to power up the cannon.

and then, when shadow finally begins to connect with someone, that being sonic after their fight, it’s clear that shadow has somewhat resigned himself to the fate of sacrificing himself to save the world. from the beginning of their allyship, it’s clear to me that shadow is more at peace and less conflicted than he even really was in SA2, and i think that’s because he isn’t expecting himself to survive at all. his self-sacrificial mentality hasn’t changed much since the beginning of the movie, its objective has just shifted from vengeance to protection.

thus, even his connection to sonic is kinda hollow in the end, because it’s at a point where it’s too late for shadow to actually take some time to connect with sonic. it’s too late for shadow himself to be saved or even properly grieve, and shadow knows that.

what is consistent to me is the inconsistency of people surrounding him in the movie. shadow doesn’t have that consistent connection he can lean into even a little like he has with rouge in SA2. gerald, the one person in the movie that even somewhat consistently is around shadow, doesn’t treat shadow as an equal, he treats him as a subordinate. rouge treated shadow as a teammate and thus an equal. and in the end of SA2, everyone clearly cared at least a little for shadow, and rouge, amy, and sonic were all able to explicitly demonstrate that to him before he “died”. in the movie, it’s only sonic who is able to do that, and by then shadow’s not had any chance to connect without certain death looming right in front of him. sonic’s chances to deeply connect with shadow earlier in the movie were nonexistent since shadow only saw him for who he had allied with: GUN.

it is a relief that shadow at least found a friend in sonic before he “died,” but again, it’s not the same kind of connection that Rouge had with him in SA2.

shadow in the movie is going through pure grief, raw, without memory manipulation. and for most of it, he’s doing it without anyone that’s really there to comfort or sympathize with him.

that’s really tragic to me. like, the fact that shadow doesn’t even get the chance to properly have even a second to shed a tear for maria like he did in SA2 before resigning himself to death is just… damn.

at least he got a second chance now. it might be a struggle, but hopefully when he has this time in the future to process his grief, he has people to share it with.

i want to give shadow the biggest longest hug ever. he needs one.

[rekino2114]

Hey could I get Lacey with a reader who kisses her (with her permission of course) all over her face while saying praises about them and how much they love her?

I want to see her happy and in a loving relationship so badly now ever since I saw your post

Kissing and comforting lacey

Pairing:lacey x gn reader

Tw(if you've seen lacey, you know):abuse depression,suicidal thoughts,just trauma in general (all of this is implied, and lacey has kind of healed from her childhood)

A/n:God, just writing all of the trigger warnings made me so fucking angry, lacey deserves only the best in this world, sorry it took so long to finally make a post about her and PLEASE keep requesting stuff for her I want to make her feel the love she needs and deserves

Lacey felt like she was trapped. All of the abuse she suffered was just the norm for her, and she knew that despite how desperately she tried, she could never get out. Despite how desperately she wanted to go get ice cream and go shopping and maybe find a partner, she could never, she was trapped here and she couldn't do anything about it.

That was until you came in her life.

You helped her get away from that hell. You gave her the strength to do what she wanted to do for her entire life, and you supported her the whole way through. She genuinely could never thank you enough for what you did for her.

But no matter how much you helped her heal the scars still remained.

She had woken up sweating and panting from another nightmare, she grabbed her cheek and started crying silently, she didn't want to wake you up. Even if you had always told her that she could come to you for whatever reason and especially to talk, she still felt hesitant to do so, she had already told you everything and she thought that she was bothering you by continuing to tell you about her trauma. Just like she was bothering everyone else by living

She continued sobbing until she felt a pair of arms wrap around her and a familiar warmth encompassing her, she didn't flinch as she immediately knew it was you

"Y-y/n!"

"Is everything OK lacey? Were you crying?"

"N-no it's fine"

You sighed and continued hugging her

"Lacey, you know you can tell me everything, I won't force you if you don't want to, but I know you're not ok"

Lacey laid down and hugged you back, facing you and closing her eyes

"........i-it was a nightmare"

".....about your childhood?"

"Y-yeah"

You saw her shiver and got worried

"D-do you mind if I hug you a bit tighter, you look scared'

She simply nodded as you tightened you grip, making sure it was not too tight and still comfortable

"Like I said before, it's fine if you don't wanna talk about it, I know how traumatic it was, but just know I won't let anything happen to you"

Lacey opened her eyes and stared into yours, her own grip tightening

"I love you, and you're perfect. You're beautiful, hardworking, kind, and gentle, I could keep going on forever. It's genuinely incredible how you didn't let your past influence who you are now. A lot of people would be so envious of you for that"

"I-i think a lot of that is because of you.....y-you helped me grow and move past all that-"

"Maybe, but I wouldn't have been able to do that if you weren't this strong, you have no idea how many people would have been powerless to do anything in your situation even with someone like me, you have such a strong will, I am so proud of you....for everything"

The blue haired girl felt a small smile creep up on her face, seeing that you smiled slightly too and touched her cheeks, before quickly pulling back

"O-oh I'm sorry"

"N-no it's fine I don't mind. Your touch....is nice. It makes me feel safe"

Your smile widened as you guided your hand back to her cheek

"Do you mind if I kiss you?"

"......no I don't mind at all, please do it"

You started kissing her face very gently, leaving very soft kisses all over her. She started smiling even brighter and blushed slightly

"You're wonderful lacey, you deserve only the best"

"T-thank you"

"You don't need to thank me, I'm just telling the truth"

"......still, it means a lot"

"And that's why I'm telling you that, cause I want you to know how much you mean to me"

She muttered another thank you and kissed your cheek this time before closing her eyes.

She still felt your lips on her skin and your sweet words in her ears, and they helped her so much. With you, she felt like all of her past, all of the abuse, her uncle, all the other horrible people, it all felt like a distant memory or a bad dream like the one she just had.

All of the crushing expectations people put on her, all of the terrible abuse she went through, all of the times she thought of just ending it all. They were all gone because of you, the ray of sunshine in that permanent thunderstorm that her life used to be.

Sure, she still had nightmares, but she was glad for exactly that, that they were just nightmare now thanks to you.

So she fell asleep rocked by your words and touches, glad that now she was going to have beautiful dreams of your life together.

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 34

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: Out Of The Ashes

Notes: /

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forced Marriage. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn. Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter:  34/47

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Merlin rode beside Arthur and Gawain, they were speaking of Nimue from what you could hear. Percival had gone to ride with Pym for a while. Red Spear had brought some of her crew from her ship along on the journey, it brought a small sense of added safety. One of those raiders, a young man called ‘Hawk’ , had started to talk to you randomly and had not stopped since at least an hour. He told you the strangest stories, of how he once got an arrowhead lodged in his thigh and how he once fell overboard when drunk. Less than four words you had said to him during his stories, he just seemed to love talking to all who would listen. Lancelot rode not far away from you, keeping somewhat of a distance from the group. And when you had looked back at him he send you a curious look, undoubtedly wondering how long it would take you to tell the chatty young man to go away. But you didn’t, and caught the Ash Man rolling his eyes when Hawk started another story.

“We will pass through Ravenwick.” Merlin said out loud to the others. “Then travel along the rivers until we reach our destination. We need to avoid the main roads if we wish to spare ourselves from encountering trouble.”

Whilst the others agreed, you were too distracted by what was said to notice how a branch had gotten stuck to your satchel. There was a strong tug and then the grass was getting awfully close really fast. Your hip hit the journals inside the satchel and you could already imagine the bruise that would grow out of that. All came to a halt and before you could even process being on the ground, Hawk had hooked an arm under yours and was helping you up to your feet. How was he so quick to help, had he jumped off of his horse?

“Up you go, miss.” he said, sounding like he was used to picking people up from the ground.

“Thanks.” you swayed on your feet a little until Lancelot kept you steady by the elbow.

“Are you alright?” he worriedly asked.

“I think so. My satchel got caught on a branch.” It was a bit embarrassing.

Gawain rode up along with the others. You spoke up about what you had heard right away.

“We’ll be passing through Ravenwick?” you asked.

“Is there a problem?” Arthur wondered.

They did not know of your history with the place. “It will be a risk. Abbot Wicklow will have eyes set on Ravenwick, he knows I used to live there and may believe Lancelot and I will set foot in the city again.”

Gawain chimed in, “Then we will be careful and discreet. Either we go through Ravenwick, or we travel on roads that Uther’s soldiers often use and if they see Merlin they will not be kind to us.”

Then you realized something, Aldith would not have carried all his wealth to Morrowstead with him. If all that coin was still in your old home hidden somewhere, it could be very helpful to all.

“Can we stop at my old home? My father may have hidden matters that we can really use.” You held back from telling him what it might actually be.

Lancelot voiced his concern, “Are you sure about going back there?”

It would be a waste not to. “My father stole from the Fey just like the Church does. It would benefit us all if we found matters worth coin there.”

No one could argue with that, coin would be very helpful, or soon everyone would run out of things to trade just to eat.

“A wise decision.” Merlin said upon hearing it.

But Lancelot was not so quickly convinced. “I do not consider it wise.” he said to you. “You told me you never wanted to go back there.”

That was true. But now people were depending on it. “And I meant it. But this isn’t just about me. How else are we going to pay for an inn? For meals? And maybe I can get my clothes, if they haven’t tossed or burned them.”

Finally, he agreed to the plan and saw to it that you got back on your horse safely. You adjusted the satchel so the strap could not get caught on a branch again.

“Careful now.” Lancelot stood beside you, placing his hand on your thigh in an almost innocent manner.

Looking down at him, you could see that boyish smile that gave him an innocent look, especially with how the sun landed on those eyes and lighted them much like valuable gems. You patted his hand, he stepped away and did not look back to see your reaction when he gave your thigh a squeeze and proceeded to climb back into Goliath’s saddle. That cheeky…

Hawk walked up to you. “This reminds me of when I was traveling to Gramaire and my friend Eli over there-”

His new story was cut short when Lancelot steered Goliath to your side and forced Hawk back. The young Hawk picked up on the meaning of it and with a polite nod your way, he went back to his horse to ride with the rest of Red Spear’s group.

“You are too polite.” Lancelot said.

You grinned at him. “Because I know how rude you can be and it balances it out.”

He scoffed, feigning insult. “I am not rude.”

Oh really? “You nearly trampled Hawk with Goliath just now.”

“I was sparing you from having to listen to another one of his stories.” Was his excuse.

You kept looking to the path ahead. “Almost seems like you have been without attention for a bit too long today.”

He picked up on the playful intention behind it. “Are you accusing me of being too attached?”

Your grin widened. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I know you are.”

He steered Goliath closer. “Is that a complaint?”

“No.” You shrugged your shoulders. “Just amusing to me how distant you behaved towards everyone when we first met, and now you are like this with me.”

He was honest about the reason, “I was distant because I could not trust those around me, a problem I did not have with you.”

It was a risky jest, “Because I was chained and tied up.”

A sigh. “Yes. Because I could tie you up and put a rag over your mouth when you became too much too bear.”

You swatted at his arm. “You…”

He caught your wrist. “You hit lighter than a breeze.”

The jest fell from you, “You want me to use my strength?”

An intrigued smirked graced his lips. “That would be interesting.”

You fed that intrigue. “I’ll remember that.”

“Oh?” He leaned a little your way.

When you hummed cheekily, his gaze fixed on your lips and it only made you smirk back at him.

“Lancelot.” Gawain called out to him and beckoned him over.

With a polite tilt of his head your way, Lancelot rode ahead to go and listen to Gawain. The longer the ride went on the more everyone had switched places in the group. By the time Ravenwick came into sight you had spoken to at least four different people. Pym, two from Red Spear’s crew and then Red Spear herself. And the Red Spear was eager to offer her help in collecting the valuables from Aldith’s manor, you saw no issue with it. Aldith would have hidden his most valuable items well and you had no doubt that some of that manor would have to get damaged to find it all.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  At sundown you reached Ravenwick. There were barely any people still outside. The fortunate thing was that you knew this place like the back of your hand and knew what paths were more discreet. Everyone had dismounted and followed you on foot until Gawain came up with the idea to take some of the group to the other side of Ravenwick already to draw less attention, there they would wait for you to join them again. Red Spear chose three of her crew and chose to stay at your side to help. Merlin, Pym and Percival went with Gawain out of precaution against Red Paladins and Uther’s soldiers. Arthur decided to help in the manor as well. The seven of you continued to your old home on foot, leading the horses by the reins until you were at the hitching post just beside the manor. Red Spear ordered two of her comrades to remain outside and keep watch for any trouble, then she followed you to the the door of your home. Hawk, who she had chosen to come along, was carrying two large woven sacks to fill. Unfortunately the door was locked well.

“What now?” Arthur wondered out loud.

Red Spear did not answer, she walked to one of the windows around the corner and broke it with the back of her spear. She was the first to climb into your old home and helped you in a bit, the others followed.

“We fill the sacks?” She was asking for approval from you a bit awkwardly.

You gave the permission. “Go ahead. Search this place, my father must have hidden some of his coin in here somewhere. I am going to see if there is still something left of my belongings.”

She was happy to oblige and ordered Hawk to help her search the place. Arthur hurried after her to help, and maybe to remind her not to make too much noise.

“She’s going to tear this place apart in search of coin.” Lancelot quietly commented to you.

“Good.” You hoped this place would at least bring some joy to someone.

Seeing it now, in it’s desolated state, was strange. It brought back so many memories, and none were pleasant. Seconds passed before you realized you had not taken a single step.

There, on one of the chairs you had scraped your knee badly when Cassian had once pushed you to the floor. And on the carpet was still the bloodstain that came from a nosebleed after Aldith had struck you once again, hours you had spend trying to get the stain out to no avail, he was furious you had ruined the carpet. Lancelot’s voice rang through your distracted thoughts. You turned to look at him just to realize he must have been trying to get you to snap out of the past you were stuck in unbeknownst to him.

“We should not be here.” he said after seeing the haunted look in your eyes. “I do not want you to be here anymore.”

He did not hold back on letting that be known. That smile and joy in your eyes from earlier was completely gone, stolen by the memory you had stepped into. He could not bear to see it happen.

You shook your head. “I’m fine.”

He did not like it, not one bit. But Aldith owed you an inheritance, one that you could use for good. Slowly you began to walk through the rooms. The kitchen where you had to prepare food for them, the dining room where they tossed it at your head when their meal wasn’t warm enough. And if they caught you tasting… if they knew you tried to eat without ‘earning’ it…

You were grateful it was quite dark inside, only the moonlight falling through the windows offered light, because your mouth was quivering often and you did not want anyone to see.

The hall that lead to the stairwell. The stairwell where you were once pushed down from by Cassian and his friends as a child. Your stomach turned there, and for a second you waited before ascending it. On the upper floor, there was the hall that lead to all the bedrooms and rooms filled with clutter. You passed by a painting on the wall, depicting a sheep being slaughtered, it was hanged there to remind you of what you were to them, that was what they had always said. Beside the painting was damage to the wall, one of the times you had tried to escape… Aldith had slammed your head against that wall so hard you thought it was the end, he had kept doing it whilst screaming how you would end up like the sheep in the painting.

You were breathing hard, staring at that wall and the painting, tears warming your cheeks without realizing it. To remember that paralyzing fear was what brought it back to life. Trapped in that dreadful feeling, a gentle touch was hard to distinguish from a malicious one. Lancelot had tried to offer comfort, but you had lashed out in the darkness at him, pulling away from him, shoving him back in defense against a threat long buried in the past. Instant guilt riddled your conscience, it had been so long since you had felt this awful.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t meant to…” it came out in a sob.

He had you in his arms so quickly you had barely time to notice he had moved at all. That instant feeling of his warm arms around you, that soft hushing in your ears as he rubbed your back to sooth you. You nested into him, holding him tight against your form, neither moved for quite some time. Once the worst of the emotion had passed, you were confused by how easy it felt to fall asleep when he held on like this, he made you so calm and comfortable.

“I’m going to fall asleep like this.” you mumbled against him.

He brushed a hand over your head. “Better?”

You nodded, taking the opportunity to enjoy that Fey scent of his. “Thank you.”

“Always.” he said. Then did not let go until you did so first.

You wiped your cheeks dry with your sleeves, uttering another apology that he deemed unnecessary.

He cradled your face. “I hate to see you return to this place, I can see the toll it takes.”

You took his hands from your face and held them in your own. “Sometimes I feel guilty for their deaths. I consider this a reminder that the world is better off without them in it.” At the far end of the hall, in the corner, was a door. “My room was over there.”

“I’m going with you.” It was a statement.

You grabbed hold of his sleeve at the wrist and took him along, the door was still open just a little.

He noticed the locks on the outside and pointed at them, “Why?”

You hated the sight of those. “To lock me inside when they felt like it.”

Stepping inside the room, the little light coming from the small window was pathetic. Lancelot was quick to spot the small lantern beside the door on the dresser, he lighted the candle with the flint beside it and handed you the flint to keep. Lantern in hand, he held it up to look around the room, letting the light fall on the mattress on the floor. He was quiet, but you could sense the many questions running through his head right then.

“They must have taken away my bed after the last time I was here. Possibly part of my punishment for when Aldith would have found me whilst he was still here.” you explained. Then pointed at the floor. “I found my mother’s journal over there, under the floorboards. The Hidden led me to find it.”

He remained eerily quiet, taking the view of the room in slowly. You let him process it and started inspecting your old dresser to see if it still contained your belongings. Your clothes were still there and you started to put them on the dresser to take along.

He turned to you. “Take all you wish to keep. I will make room in Goliath’s saddlebag if need be.”

It was a relief to hear. “Thank you.”

He put the lantern on the dresser and strolled around the room, even in the dim light you could see the disapproval in his eyes, that tense jaw and slight arch to his brow.

You tried to distract him from the depressing surroundings by making light of it, you drew his attention and when he made eye-contact you nodded to what was left of your bed. “I prefer the one in Gramaire, less visits from insects. Better company in general.”

His reaction was quick to silence your attempts to distract him, he send his eyes to the floor unable to hide the shock and disbelief in them.

The atmosphere had taken a sudden shift. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t.” He was firm. “Do not jest about this to diminish the true atrocities they committed against you, not for my sake or anyone else’s.”

You put down a folded shirt. “I don’t want you to be distraught over this. It’s the past.”

Your past, your burden, he had enough of his own to carry. Besides that, you did not like to see him upset.

“Was it the past when you pushed me away moments ago?” he confronted.

You turned away to focus on taking the clothes out of the dresser again. He was right, you could say it was the past all you wanted but the memories of it weren’t, nor was the pain it had caused. Quietly he came to your side, saying nothing for a moment, as if he regretted speaking of what happened by the painting. He reached out and brushed a hand over your back briefly, then folded his hands together behind his back. A few seconds passed before he stepped behind you and brought his arms around your waist, bringing you into and embrace. You stopped folding and put your hands on his arms, leaning into him more.

He kissed the side of your head. “None of us can free ourselves of the past without some scars to remind us of it.”

He let you free of his embrace and stepped to your side again.

You picked up the stack of clothes. “I’m done here. We should go and see what the others have found so far.”

He took the lantern along, using it to light the way while taking directions from you through the house. You found Red Spear, Arthur, and Hawk in Aldith’s room. They had moved most of the furniture around and were busy moving the large wooden chest in the far corner of the room. Red Spear had noticed a suspicious looking loose plank on the wall behind it, Arthur and Hawk used their swords to move the strangely nailed in plank out of the way. Red Spear got impatient and forced the plank out of the way with her spear, she reached into the small open space and retrieved what had been hidden there, a chest.

She put the chest down on the floor and looked your way. “Do you know where the key is?”

Your tone was neutral, nearly disinterested. “On my father’s corpse if I have to guess.”

Arthur and Lancelot shared a look, Red Spear looked like she was debating on throwing the chest out the window to get it to crack open.

“Shouldn’t she be the one to open it?” Hawk asked his leader.

At first Hawk received a glare, but then Red Spear seemed to agree. She stood up and put the small chest on the bed.

“Y/n.” Red Spear looked at you with expectation.

You approached, taking your dagger from your weapon belt to pry it open. Rather impatiently they all watched on as you tried to pry it open. It didn’t budge, so you stuck the dagger between the gap of the lid, turned the chest over and slammed it hard against the floor on the pommel a few times. The chest unlocked and coins spilled across the floor.

Whilst Red Spear and Hawk picked up the coins, Arthur spotted something different amongst them, he plucked a bracelet up from where it had landed under a few coins. “Are those Fey signs on this?”

Lancelot held out his hand for it and Arthur gave it to him to view, after a few seconds he said, “It’s hers.”

“Yours?” Arthur looked at you.

You shook your head, not recognizing the golden bangle. If it had been yours you would have remembered owning such an intricate piece, a dark gem was placed in the midst of it, engravings of vines ran across it’s surface.

Lancelot held it out for you to take. “Inside the bangle, in the language of our clan, ‘Little Ember’ is engraved on it.”

“What…?” You stared at the piece of jewelry in his hand.

Red Spear saw your reaction. “If she doesn’t want it-”

Lancelot did not let her finish the sentence. “It is hers.”

With shaking hands you took the bracelet, unable to translate the engraving inside for yourself. If he had not told you, you would have never known and the bracelet your mother must have meant to gift you would have been sold off somewhere.

“The stone must be some sort of quartz.” Hawk said. “I’ve found and sold those before. It looks like smoke’s inside of it.”

You put the bracelet on, it sat securely on your wrist. Aldith had hidden this… the only gift you would have gotten from her…

“You don’t have other jewelry?” Hawk blurted out. “No wedding ring?”

Lancelot’s expression changed, the statement had an effect on him

“Doesn’t make her less married.” Arthur said and got an appreciative look from the Ash Man.

“We count them here and now.” Red Spear nodded down at the coins.

“Count?” Hawk questioned.

She gave him a stern look. “Count. All will get their share.”

Hawk was quick to start counting. “Yes, Red Spear.”

You hadn’t thought she would be so honest to make certain all got a fair share, but she was firm on the matter. The coins were counted twice, and she divided the amount equally except for you, you got some more. Some gold, some silver, you stashed them safely into your satchel.

Lancelot had seen the full sack of items in the corner. “What did you find of value?”

Arthur replied, “Some silverware and weapons. Silver candle holders in this room.”

Lancelot saw one sticking out of the sack. “Those are found in monasteries.”

“I bet that’s where my father found them too.” you deadpanned.

Arthur chuckled at the witty remark. Hawk went to pick up the bag. And Red Spear carried that chest of coin like it had just made her year. You tried not to think too much about where Aldith had gotten that coin, what mattered now was that it was in the hands of people who really needed it.

Together you made your way back to the horses, Lancelot borrowed one of the sacks Red Spear’s crew members had with them to put your clothes away, then secured the sack to Goliath’s saddle. He approached you just before you were going to mount the grey mare.

He took your wrist, where the bangle was, he took it off briefly to point at the symbols one by one, explaining what they meant and how their order changed their meaning.

“Do you understand?” he gently asked.

You considered lying, but that wouldn’t help you learn. “Some of it.”

His lips curved and he put the bangle back on your wrist. “You will learn, I’m certain.”

The confidence he had in you was nice to hear. “How could I not with such a dedicated tutor that holds my interest so well?”

Those eyes that held the heavens locked on yours at the blatant flirtation, you loved that small hint of a smirk he had now.

Arthur walked past. “Time to go, Gawain will be waiting.”

Lancelot stepped away to fetch Goliath. You were in charge again to lead the group through the more discreet paths of Ravenwick. Arthur was the one who spotted a group of paladins, drunk and laughing by their horses at a distance. You started to lead the group to another path until you heard Red Spear whisper at Lancelot in irritation.

“Keep moving!” she quietly snapped at him.

He was distracted by the group of paladins, and both Arthur and Red Spear grew vigilant because of it.

“Are you going with them, or with us?” Arthur bluntly asked him.

Lancelot’s eyes snapped to Arthur, visibly angry at the blatant mistrust.

“Enough.” you hissed at them. “Follow me or find your own way out of here!”

That shut them all up, even Red Spear was a little impressed by how effective your harsh tone was on them. The group remained quiet for the rest of the way out of Ravenwick, thankfully so.

Not far outside the city, Gawain and the others were waiting for you.

“Found something worth our time?” Gawain asked.

“Coin.” Red Spear answered. “We’ll divide it when we’ve set up camp for the night.”

“Good.” The knight agreed.

“The sword?” Merlin asked Lancelot.

“Still with me.” he answered, patting the sword attached to the saddle.

Arthur was still mistrusting towards him. “What was that back there? Why did it look like you were going to walk over to the paladins that we saw?”

“I was not!” Lancelot bit back.

Red Spear and Arthur shared a look. Had they seen something you had not? Percival looked so very worried towards the Ash Man, pleading with his eyes for it not to be true.

Lancelot calmed himself. “I was watching them to ensure they had not seen us, that they would not follow us.”

Gawain was short and firm about the matter, “If he had wanted to go back to them, he would not be so courteous to us. In the least some of us would be dead, and the rest he would have given to the Church to regain their favor.”

The knight was able to silence their doubt. After a short briefing between them all, the group resumed their journey into the forest. They kept close to the river, often Gawain looked at the map he had brought along to ensure they were heading in the right direction. The weather was getting colder, a chilly breeze cut through your clothes and you contemplated stopping to retrieve your cloak from Goliath’s saddlebag. But not much later a place in the forest was found to set up camp. Everyone used what little they had to make a place on the grass to sleep, cloaks, blankets, one of Red Spear’s crew had acquired a fancy tablecloth to use. You finally fished the cloak out of the saddlebag and debated on putting it on and sleeping in it, it would be warmer. Percival had tied the reins of his horse to a branch and came your way, you realized he had nothing with him to sleep on and even though he didn’t say so, you could tell that he was cold.

“Here, use my cloak to sleep.” You offered it to him.

The boy didn’t take it. “We could share?”

With a smile you took him by the shoulder and guided him to a tree to rest against. Sitting down against the tree, you draped the cloak over the both of you.

“You alright?” you asked.

He shrugged his shoulders, a clear ‘no’ in your opinion. You nudged him playfully against the arm.

He spoke quietly, “It’s so much.”

That had sounded quite sad. “What is?”

“Everything.” He sank under the cloak further. “There isn’t time for something else.”

You understood that he missed the lack of fun activities amongst all this. Under all that bravery and fortitude was still a child, and in times of war it was often overlooked. You trapped him in an embrace, he didn’t seem to mind and leaned into it, it was a welcome solution against the cold.

You resisted the urge to ruffle that untamed hair. “There will be time, Percival. I promise.”

Red Spear was handing out everyone’s share of coins and to your surprise she offered Percival a share too. The boy could barely believe it when she let those coins fall into his hands like it was nothing, then she walked away.

“Is it really for me?” he looked at you.

You smiled. “Of course it is. Put it in your pockets.”

Percival didn’t have to hear that twice, he stuffed the coins in the pockets of his jacket.

Lancelot approached and sank down against the side of the tree next to Percival. “The weather is colder, but I do not believe it will rain.”

“I hope you’re right.” The chilly breeze was worse enough.

He reached behind him, his arm just long enough to blindly let his hand touch your arm, Percival was oblivious to it happening. You turned to look past your shoulder, discreetly grazing your fingers against Lancelot’s before pulling your hand back.

“Do you think I have enough coin for a sweetroll?” Percival asked.

“No.” Lancelot lied.

You sighed at the twit’s jest. “Yes, you have enough for a sweetroll.”

Percival smiled widely, very pleased with that answer.

Pym almost stumbled over your feet when she walked by. “Sorry. I didn’t see your feet. It’s dark.”

You gave a nod. “It’s alright.”

“Thanks for letting them give everyone coin. You could have kept it a secret and gone to grab that chest for yourself.” she said.

It wouldn’t have felt right to keep it all. “I prefer helping others with it. My father stole from everyone, I do not want to be as greedy as he was.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I wouldn’t have blamed you for it.”

“Still.”

“I’ll let you sleep.” She turned to Percival. “Goodnight, Squirrel. I’m just over there if you need me.”

Percival was nested comfortably under the cloak. “Goodnight.”

Pym walked off to a tree nearby where she had made her bed for the night. Looking behind you, you noticed the sword on the ground next to Lancelot, the sword, he treated it like any other sword that he could have found in the dirt. It was perhaps best, it meant it was not corrupting him. As the boy slowly fell asleep, you often glanced behind you and around the tree, oddly distracted by having the Ash Man so near yet not near enough. Being in love was a constant rush through your veins that was only calmed by him. It took a while to fall asleep, but once you did the weight of the day pulled you into a deep slumber easily.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  Gawain was hastily shaking your shoulder to wake you. “You need to wake up. Now.”

The sun struck your eyes and they needed some time to adjust, and when they did you immediately saw the serious expression on the knight’s face. Percival was already up and looked as confused as you were.

“What’s going on?” you asked worried.

Gawain helped you up by the arm. “Lancelot is gone.”

Taglist:

@ourlazydetectivekitten ​​  @the-great-adventures-of-me   @linkpk88   @fxrchxldws @elenaoftheturks ​​  @slytherlight   @beananacake ​​     @crystallizedtime ​​ @moonlightaura03 @angrygardendeer @have-aheart   @5am-cigarette   @arcanenature @thewinterskywalker @notyourwildestdream  

 @coloursforyourportrait   @koressecretidentity   @nike90   @n1ghtlux ​​  @rachlovesactors ​​  @luckyzipperscissorsbat   @morena-doing-stuff   @the-fangirl-diaries ​​  @gipsydanger17   @heavenly1927 ​​ @phantasmalbeiing @labyrinthonmymind @asarcastic-thiamstan @rainyv-skies     @stclairesplace   @​​katjusja @isla-bell-blog   @beebeerockknot   @sahvlren @lancedoncrimsonwings @weird123abc @elizabeth-holland24 @kissingandromeda @timeshiptraveler

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist of this story. Using this old list from the previous fic.

[junglejim4322]

This is such a whiny bitch thing to say but im kind of more frustrated having things in my life to live for and still being so fucking depressed and self destructive like I think about all the people who I care about and im like why the fuck am I still so unhappy why can’t I fix my life I’ve done it before what on earth is in my way. And then I remember my awful childhood and I can give myself some grace however I am in real terror I might get kicked out of therapy for bad attendance in December and if I do my life is over if I don’t however im committing to emdr every week again I can’t take this anymore