#it's not a big deal but for some reason it still is. it's just tea for fuck's sake it's not like it's the end of the world.

[softaestluv]

Sticky When Wet

Three times Ghost swore he hated honey with his tea and one time he admitted he couldn’t live without it.

Alpha! Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Omega! Reader

Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Omegaverse, Alpha/Omega stereotypical behavior, Scenting, Angst, Miscommunications, Denial, Simon is bad at feelings, Possessive behavior, Jealousy, Size difference, Eventual smut

CW: This chapter does contain a little bit of non consensual touching of the face & harassment. However, Ghost is not the one doing it.

Pt. 1, Pt. 2 of 4, Pt. 3

It’s not that you needed someone to look after you, truthfully. You weren’t some weak omega who needed an alpha’s protection— Ghost’s protection.

Ghost just so happened to find himself in these situations; he didn’t want an omega to protect.

Maybe he was lying. Maybe.

However, he couldn’t sit and do nothing about it; his alpha wouldn’t let him, not when it involved you. He could only stand there and listen to a group of trainees rave about you, your honey scent, for so long. They were supposed to be training, but all they seemed to focus on was your lithe frame across the gym and your tempting movements.

Ghost didn’t even know why you were here. Why you chose to work out at this specific time for everyone to see. You didn’t need to work out. You worked in the cafeteria on base; it’s not like you were about to be deployed. Not like Ghost would even allow that to happen if it were possible.

You didn’t need muscle; he was all the strength you would ever need, enough for the both of you. You could remain soft and squishy, plump in all the right places. Just like an omega should be, supple flesh, bulging curves for him to hold, squeeze, use as leverage.

Yet there you were, across the gym during training, for all the recruits to see for some reason. It’s like you fucking wanted them to ogle at you. Ogle at the pretty omega working out in an outfit that seemed too small to be proper clothing. Shorts that barely covered the curve of your ass, rising every so often to reveal a sliver of plump skin during certain movements. Fitted shirt that cinched in the front, deep neckline jutting the fat of your breasts out.

Simon didn’t even want to acknowledge the rest. He didn’t care about it, really. Didn’t care that the plump flesh of your thighs jiggled with each new exercise or how your breasts bounced softly, tauntingly.

He didn’t notice any of it.

Didn’t notice the sweat cascading down your precious skin or how it collected in your collarbones, cleavage, or upper lip. Covering your body in a glistening sheen. Ghost didn’t see any of that; he didn’t even care enough to spare you a glance.

Why would he? He could fucking smell your stench miles away, even through the other alpha's strong scents.

The tones of sage honey and sweet tangerine remained, but now a natural musk joined. An overwhelming scent of sweat and exhaustion intermingled with your sweetness. Ghost supposed you would smell that exact way during sex, though it lacked the arousal that would seep from your scent glands. Tainting the saccharine smell raw and tempting.

He didn’t know what the big deal was. Why all the other men couldn’t keep their urges in their pants to save their lives. No one else complained about your pungent aroma; instead, they seemed to do the complete opposite. Foaming at the mouth like they’ve never smelt omega before. Like your scent was divinity on earth.

The perverted men almost disgusted him more than your scent. Enraged him when they talked about you like you were their dessert.

“Jesus, training ain’t so bad when you get a pretty little show like that, huh?” A recruit laughed, gesturing to your form on the yoga mat.

“You got that right. Practically wearing nothing too,” The second alpha added, smirking wolfishly in response.

The first recruit clapped the other on the back, pulling him closer to mumble to him as if Ghost still couldn’t hear the deceitful words he wanted to share, “Like she wants us to watch her. Especially with that honey fucking scent, begging for our attention.”

“Watch her? She’s probably close to her heat. She's desperate for one of us to fuck her,” the other chuckled.

Ghost's skin was already burning, scalding his bones, but those words, even the thought of another man taking you during your heat had him seeing red. Your heat of all times to take you. When you were so desperate you’d take any alpha that was willing. Regardless of their ulterior motives, regardless if they wouldn’t take care of you the way Ghost would.

You wouldn’t be able to think straight during your heat, just searching for a mate who could knot you, and the fact that the other alphas even thought of taking advantage of your vulnerable state made him seethe with rage.

Besides, Ghost is the only alpha that could take care of you the way you need.

Not like he wanted to help you through your heat.

But at least he would honor your boundaries; your limits. Give you what you craved the way you wanted, not the way he did. Make your throbbing pain go away with his thick knot, keep you nice and satisfied on his cock.

Not like he wanted that.

He was appalled by the thought of your honey scent. Disgusted by the thought of your honeyed slick coating his knot, drenching him sticky, squeezing him tightly.

“Little petite thing too; she’d be easy to make obey.”

God.

Simon was sure there wasn’t a god, but just hearing those words had him hoping there was a higher being to control his actions. Unfortunately, the trainee was right. You were petite. Small structure, lithe frame, dainty little figure. Easily overpowered by every alpha in this room, by Ghost. Tiny little thing in comparison to his massive body. Which is why you do need an alpha’s protection, especially from these men.

You would obey. Though not because you wanted to but because your instincts had no choice but to submit to an alpha’s voice. Simon wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t use his alpha voice with you; wouldn’t even let his scent seep into the room. Intense training had taught him how to control his scent; he would keep the room as sterol as possible keep his dominating scent to a minimum so that your decision was ultimately made by you and not instincts or hormones.

One of the men walked to you, bending over your lying frame on the yoga mat. His dark shadow loomed over your body as you looked up in shock, sliding your headphones off. Simon couldn’t tell what the other man was saying from here, but his jaw ticked in irritation watching you chuckle lightly at whatever he said, sitting up from your lying position.

The man reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as he iterated smug words to you. Ghost’s alpha snarled loudly in his chest, plotting the other man’s death for even putting his fingers on your pure skin. Tainting your purity. Your scent instantly soured, natural musk turning into apprehension and fright.

Ghost's feet were moving before he even realized, alpha urging him to do something to eliminate the threat to the omega. His hand gravitated to your chin, tilting your head to look up at him. The nervous energy seeped off you, your irises drowning in anxiety as you flickered your eyes at him.

“Hmm?” The alpha hummed, “A dainty omega like you should have an alpha to fuck you through your heat, no?”

You gulped thickly, “N-Not gonna go into heat anytime soon. I’m on suppressants.”

That sentence had Ghost swallowing just as loudly. If this is how strong your scent radiated off you on suppressants, he couldn’t even imagine how strong you would smell off of them. Honeyed scent already ruined his black tea, ruined his food. Made his head throb in irritation and disgust from how overwhelming your sickly sweet scent filled the mess hall. He was sure his head would pulse erratically, probably explode in frustration, if he ever smelt your raw, unfiltered scent. Nauseate him to the core with how sweet you would smell, rot his teeth from one breath.

“What a shame,” He continued, “Though, doesn’t mean you still don’t need an ache met.”

“I’m not looking for that right now,” You mumbled weakly, fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you avoided his domineering gaze.

“No? Why not? I could give you what you want,” The sergeant continued despite your obvious apprehensions.

“Sergeant.”

The man's eyes snapped up to Ghost’s, raising his eyebrows at him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Ghost snarled, practically yelling in anger, rage purposely seeping through his scent glands to ward off the other alpha.

“Just talking to this little bird is all,” He responded, smirking proudly as he rubbed his thumb over your chin.

A motion that had you flinching away slightly. A motion that had his alpha growling loudly in warning, balling his fists. A growl that had the other man halting his movements.

“Do I need to take this up with Captain Price? Or would you rather I address this issue myself?” Ghost gritted through his teeth, holding in the urge to solve the problem by ridding him of this Earth himself.

“No, s-sir. You don’t have to tell captain,” The other man stuttered, confident tone disappearing as Ghost stood over him, skull balaclava casting shadows on his face.

“No? Then get the fuck out of here before I use you as an example during sparring.”

The sergeant nodded swiftly, running off just as all the other men had when they met Ghost’s wrath. You shifted from foot to foot, wearily looking up at him.

“Why do you let them do that?”

“Not to sound rude, sir, but I’m not letting them harass me. They just do it. Can’t really fight back against an alpha. I mean,” you chuckled lightly, hands gesturing down your body, “Not really built for that.”

Simon clenched his fists tightly, focusing on your doe eyes so his irises wouldn’t follow your movements, trace every curve on your body. He knew you weren’t built for that. God, did he know. But your dainty frame was definitely built for other things.

“Maybe if you didn’t parade your scent around they wouldn’t approach you so often.”

Your brows furrowed, just as they did in the cafeteria, confusion blooming on your face once again, “Sir, I am doing no such thing. I’m on suppressants.”

Ghost sighed, eyes twitching in irritation, “Next time, come get me. I’ll deal with them.”

Your face flushed a pretty pink, swiping your tongue across your lips, “You don’t have to-“

“Come get me.”

His gaze pinned you to the spot; end of your sentence evaporated from your lips as he interrupted you, nodding your head in agreement.

“Thank you for always looking out for me.”

Ghost grunted in acknowledgment, turning around to walk away, but you grabbed his sleeve before he could, stopping his movements. He looked down, your lip pinched between your teeth as you avoided his gaze.

“Um, is there a certain way you like your tea?” You asked, tiny hand awkwardly falling from his arm.

“What? Why does that matter?”

“Well, I always see you drink it in the mess hall, but if you want anything added I could always mix it in for you. Like milk.”

You paused, eyes shifting to find his.

“Or honey.”

Ghost almost grimaced as you said the word. Voice dripping in the same sugary warmth of your scent.

“Your scent already sweetens it enough as it is.”

The pink on your cheeks bloomed red, spreading to the tips of your ears at his words.

“I’ll try my best not to anymore, sir.”

And if the next day the mess hall smelt sterile, void of all sage honey and sweet tangerine, Ghost didn’t care.

If you served him a tray with scent blockers covering your scent glands, he didn’t feel guilty.

If he drank his black tea, it didn’t taste stale, didn’t lack any sweetness he craved. He was grateful even; he could finally drink his tea plain, just how it always should’ve been.

If he just so happened to leave his cup of tea untouched that day, it was simply because he wasn’t thirsty. Not because it burned his tongue bitterly.

Tag List: @terrifiedanimegirl @night-girl-301 @identity2212

[watercolor-hearts]

.

[gotham-daydreams]

Falling into Place

Day 2 {Challenge Masterlist}

It was a simple question, a simple conversation. However, this is obviously bigger than they think.

[Yandere Batfam × Gender Neutral! Cop Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of suicide, cults, occult like activities, death, blood, poisoning, violence, brief descriptions of fighting, descriptions of suicide.] (Note: Unless otherwise specified, it's to be believed that actions involved with harming, hurting, or heavily injuring the self are not talking about the Batfamily or the reader. Still, you have been warned.)

Sorry for the huge delay! Got hit with a bit of burnout at the worst moment... whoops!

------------------------

It was well into the morning when Bruce was just about finishing up whatever personal research he could gather. By the time Duke was heading out, Bruce was still by the batcomputer, trying to gather all he could on his own - and though he didn’t learn as much as he’d like, he knew enough to tell Duke to keep him posted on any activity he ran into during the day.

Again, Bruce wasn’t able to gather much, especially since the group themselves didn’t seem to have an official name, but based on what he was told the previous night, he had just enough to find what he could with a group that supposedly had no name. One thing he gathered is that they were more active in the day, but even then, they weren’t exactly known for grand or flashy displays - working and tampering in more odd and underground areas, which explains how they managed to slip past him for a while. Though, what he still couldn’t get was when, exactly, they arrived in Gotham, and when they seemed to leave Metropolis. That was one of the more important questions Bruce had wanted to answer, but, again, no luck.

It was then that Bruce had a choice. He could either keep going at this by himself, and risk spending more time than necessary on just trying to gather information when this cult was out there, doing god knows what in his city, and striving to achieve… well, whatever their end goal is - or he could ask for help, and potentially get things moving along faster so he can handle this quicker and much more efficiently.

There are countless reasons why Bruce didn’t want to make that call, a big one was that he didn’t want to involve more people into what was clearly a Gotham problem. These were people he was dealing with, humans, he’s supposed to be able to handle it on his own. That’s what he does. That’s what he’s supposed to be doing. Yet, if those in the manor with him now couldn’t sense anything… not even Cassandra and Damian… something was wrong. Not to mention that there was just a weird feeling Bruce was getting from all this. It all felt off in a way he didn’t know how to explain.

So, reluctantly, Bruce makes the call - but not after a few minutes of staring at his phone, and brooding.

In his defense, it was too early for something like this… for him, anyway, seeing as it was only ten o’clock.

-----------------------

When Clark came over, it was Alfred who greeted him, and let him in. The butler swiftly led the super to the batcave, and offered tea along with some biscuits and other things Alfred had prepared that morning as they walked. Of course, Clark took Alfred up on his offers, and when he reached the batcave, he had finished his tea, and had a few crackers in hand.

There, as usual, Bruce didn’t bother with greetings or formalities, and instead got straight to business.

“Tell me everything you know about this cult.”

Clark had to take a small moment to swallow down the cracker he had been chewing on just as he walked in, “Which one?”

Bruce exhaled heavily, “The one that came from your city, to mine.”

Now, that made Clark pause in his movements. Taking a breath, he took a few steps forward, and got more situated within the confines of the cave. “They came here? I mean- I heard them start to move, but I didn’t think they’d settle in Gotham too,” Clark admits, looking at Bruce, clearly concerned.

Bruce furrows his brows at the response, “‘too’? They went to other areas-?”

Just before the question could fully escape the detective, Duke’s commlink buzzes to life.

[“Uh, Signal, reporting in.”] Bruce looks over to the computer, shooting a glance at Clark before bringing his full attention to Duke.

“Anything come up?” He asks, hearing a short huff on the other end.

[Collecting his thoughts, Duke takes a moment before saying, “Beside the usual small fry, there’s nothing to report. Some guys just tried to vandalize the library and wreck the place, buuuuuut I don’t think that there’s much else-”]

“Have any bakeries or floral shops been attacked or stolen from? Maybe a grocery store, or something like that?” Clark suddenly chips in, now paying more attention to the screens too, “Something like a large pot, a whole shopping cart or basket of food items?”

[“Oh- okay, um, another flower shop was stolen from, and some guy was trying to steal another pot of, uh, what did the guy call them- irises? And someone was trying to break into the greenhouse- but even if I was able to stop them, someone must’ve snuck in during the night or earlier this morning before my patrol, since whatever virus that other place had got there too. And y’know how things are taken care of in the greenhouse, there’s no way something like that got there naturally and got so bad-”]

Clark’s brows furrowed, and he caressed his chin, deep in thought, but a strange detail was evident - he was nervous.

Noticing a change in the super’s demeanor quickly, Bruce asks, “What’s wrong, Clark?”

Not getting a response right away was suspicious enough, and the longer Clark took to say anything, the worse Bruce felt. Narrowing his eyes, the vigilante continues to inspect his friend - as if he could catch what was wrong before Clark could put it to words.

The super was tense and on edge, that much was obvious. Looking noticeably disturbed, almost pale - Bruce knew that whatever Clark was thinking about, obviously wasn’t helping - but that was the thing. Was Clark thinking about something, or did Duke’s response spark a memory of some kind? After all, from what Bruce could gather, he’s been dealing with this group for much longer, and if the earliest, possible headline he could find was anything to go off of - the super has been dealing with this group for a couple of months at the very least. About five if he had to give a specific number. It wasn’t a long time, but it was more time than Bruce, and that was the biggest difference. Clark knew the group, Bruce didn’t. Not yet.

Yet whatever the super was recalling now clearly disturbed him, and Clark was getting worse by the minute.

“Clark, talk to me-”

[“OH! Uh, Hi? [Last Name], right? What’re you doing here-?”]

That seemed to snap Clark out of whatever trance he was in, and draw Bruce’s focus away from Clark for the time being. The single mention of that name caught both of their attention - but for two different reasons. One out of familiarity, and the other out of slight suspicion.

“They’re awake at this time-?”

“Officer [Last Name] is with you, Signal?” Clark asks, tone a touch lighter now, his complexion becoming a bit better - and Bruce had to wonder if it was because Clark knew the officer, or something else was going on between the two for the super to act in such a way. Was it a matter of a simple, brief distraction? Or was there some history here that Bruce didn’t know about?

Something bubbled in Bruce’s gut, and he looked back to the screen once again. Nothing about this felt particularly good, and there was that sense again, of convenience. He wouldn’t call it easy per say, no, it just all felt too… simple. Like they were being led down some kind of path. Like he was being guided down a certain train of thought, or being purposefully put on some kind of path. By who, or why, Bruce doesn’t know yet, but he will. He always finds out.

Regardless, just sitting here and thinking wasn’t going to do him any favors, and frankly, he was wasting time - everyone was, and you seemed to be conveniently tied to this case too, so he might as well take this opportunity while it’s given to him. If this turned out to be some kind of play, or was another means to set him on a certain path… well, he has a few cards to play too. The house always wins, and Bruce practically owns this place. This is his territory, and no one can trick him while on his playing field. No one.

“Bring [Last Name] to the manor.” Bruce says, suddenly cutting into the conversation Clark and Duke were having.

[Duke is shocked into silence for a second, before he quickly recovers and utters a small, “Are you sure?” Which, yeah. While Bruce always seems to know what he’s doing, the young vigilante couldn’t help but hesitate and feel unsure. Was that the best idea? And even then, why did Bruce want to see you? Duke feels like he’s missing something here.]

“Yes, now, send them over, Duke.” After getting a reluctant ‘alright,’ in response, the connection is cut, and Bruce turns to look at the super standing beside him - who looks at him curiously and a bit confused.

Straightening out his posture, Bruce only says, “Clark, meet me out in front, and leave the glasses here.”

-----------------------

Arriving at Wayne Manor felt strange enough, but being guided there and given a ride by one of Bruce Wayne’s supposed adopted children felt weirder. The building practically loomed over you, and sure, you were used to the feeling since you came from the city, but something felt different about it now as compared to every other instance before. Like even the shadow it casted over you held a deep secret.

Honestly, something like this was bound to happen, but to be here now, and actually at the foot of the door leading into the manor? Well, you could certainly understand why so many people feared the Waynes just as much as others respected them. The building certainly reflected the people it housed incredibly well, almost unnervingly so.

Regardless, just as you didn’t think the situation could get any stranger, just as you were about to knock on the door, a gust of wind blew behind you, and you felt an all too familiar presence as the wind settled. It was only then that you decided to ring the doorbell instead, and straightened yourself out as you made small fixes to your attire and appearance.

“Didn’t expect to be seeing you here, Superman,” You greet, glancing over you shoulder to look at the superhero, who floated in the air beside you before deciding he had enough of the air, and touched the ground with practiced ease. One can’t help but wonder just how long it took him to land in such a way that didn’t shatter the earth beneath his feet upon impact, but, ah, those were questions for another day, perhaps.

Giving you that bright, charming smile he was known for, the hero nods, “Mr. Wayne gave me a call too, but honestly I’m a little surprised!” He chuckles casually, the gesture just as broad as his frame and smile, “It’s good to see you though, [Last Name], some of the officers miss you back in Metropolis - and some other folks too. You must be incredibly social to have so many friends!”

At that, you give a small shrug that matches the hero’s tone, “I have a big family, y’know? And it never hurts to be friendly, especially with so much trouble around, y’know?” You give a chuckle of your own, though it’s more light, and kept a touch low, “Though, it’s a little funny, honestly.”

Superman gives you a curious look, “What is?”

You give a smile of your own to the hero, “The fact that a man like him, can get someone like you to call him ‘Mr.Wayne’ instead of just ‘Bruce’.”

He raises his brows, and snickers a little himself, “Really? Well… I guess it is a little funny when you put it that way, but what makes you say that?”

“Hm, let’s just say I had the impression you two would be closer than that.”

Before Superman could ask you any more questions, the door is finally answered, and you’re greeted with the sight of a butler. Your attention immediately shifts to the older man, who you greet with a simple smile as you look away from the hero. ‘This must be Alfred Pennyworth. Honestly, he looks better than I thought - much healthier too.’ You think to yourself, and are subsequently proven right when he speaks.

“Sorry for the delay, Master Bruce is ready for you two now. Please, come in,” the words fell out of his mouth with a certain grace that couldn’t be ignored, and the voice he had just naturally commanded attention - holding elegance, authority, and yet in a way that none of it felt impolite or rude. All things that you didn’t see very often, and suddenly, you found yourself liking this ‘Alfred’ character more and more by the second, even if you had only met him today.

Still, you wave off his words, “Please, there’s no need to apologize, the wait wasn’t long at all,” and step inside while half way through your sentence. Superman follows in right after you, agreeing and saying something similar. It was small, subtle, but you could help but sense a feeling of familiarity between the two interacting, but brushed it off. Now wasn’t the time to focus on such things, and besides, you couldn’t waste this opportunity, could you? After all, it’s not every day someone is given the chance to just waltz into Wayne Manor - and you were lucky enough to be given such a chance. Really, you almost felt honored.

Moving on, Alfred led both you and the hero through the gigantic building, and eventually stopped just before a room. Once Alfred opened the door, you took a brief look around, and hummed, a bit impressed. For something that you assumed to be akin to a common room, or sitting room of sorts, it still looked very well furnished and taken care of - but having a lot of money certainly help with that, even if you’ve heard that Alfred is the only servant at the manor. He must be a very skilled and particular man, but still, it seems odd to see only one butler no matter how capable he is - that couldn’t be very efficient, could it? Hm.

Nevertheless, it took little effort at all to spot Bruce Wayne in all of his glory, and to your slight surprise, he didn’t look like he had just rolled out of bed - though, even for small, sudden invites like this, a celebrity must keep appearances, you suppose.

He gestures for you and Superman to take a seat, saying to “Make yourselves at home,” to which, you both promptly do so and take a seat to the couch opposite to Bruce with a comfortable amount of distance between the three of you.

You let Superman ask, “So, what did you need us for, Mr. Wayne?” since it seemed to make the most sense to have him ask instead of yourself. While he does so, you take the time to get a bit comfortable. Leaning back against the cushions, crossing one leg over the other, and taking the cup of tea that’s offered to you when Alfred comes up next to you with the tray.

As you take a sip of the tea while it’s still hot, Bruce simply replies, “Ah, I guess I should’ve offered some kind of explanation beforehand, my apologies .” Offering a carefree smile, and you had to give him some credit, for someone with a reputation like his, he does little to disprove any of the rumors you’ve heard. Though, maybe that’s a little rude - seeing as he’s only just spoken. “I’m also sorry for the short notice, but- you see, I’ve heard that something is going on in Gotham, and I’d like to hear all about it from those that seem to know the most about it!... From what I’ve heard, anyway.”

Now that makes you raise a brow, hm.

You’re plenty aware that Bruce Wayne may as well own the city, and it doesn’t surprise you in the slightest he likes to keep up to date on what’s going on, more so than him knowing to reach out to you and Superman. The group has been careful, and yes, while it makes sense for Bruce to have connections to people who could inform him of anything going on anywhere - and he certainly has the wealth to manage such a system - you still can’t help but be curious as to why he asked for you. Did he know the group came from Metropolis? That explains why you and Superman are here, but how did Bruce know that? How?

You pull the porcelain cup away from your lips. Now he’s really got your attention.

The most obvious question comes to mind first, “Where you’d hear that from, if you don’t mind me asking, Mr. Wayne?”

The wealthy man chuckles, a sort of naturally charming smirk growing on his face, “I have my ways,” of course someone like him would say that, “and, please, call me Bruce- ‘Mr. Wayne’ was my father.” With that, he took a sip of… what you assumed to be coffee by the faint smell. Curious.

“It’s fine, I insist,” your smile grows a bit before you move the conversation along, already getting a feel what was at play here, “anyway, what would you like to know, and about what, Mr. Wayne?” The huff that escapes him at your ‘insistence’ is incredibly amusing to hear, but you see he just brushes it off, and also decides to leave it be.

“Very well then, I’m sure you’ve seen it- or at least heard of it, officer, but…” Bruce goes onto explain the little he can, and though he is only able to vaguely describe what he means, you know what he’s talking about, and Superman seems to as well. Though, curiously enough, he asks you for details first.

Of course, you insist that Superman is more than suitable to give basic details, but when the hero himself insists, well, it doesn’t take much for you to relent.

When told to start from the beginning, you just say how originally there was a call about some loud and strange noises coming from someone’s neighbor, so, being the officer closest to the building, naturally you were put to the task to deal with the problem. The only thing was that, when you got there, well, the sight was gruesome, and when you finally got the door open thanks to a stray shot someone had taken - well, they were just about finishing up. You stated how originally you thought you had walked in a group suicide, and didn’t think anything else was going on until a similar instance popped up, and then another, and another. How, before you knew it, you were following a loose, bread crumb trail of similar situations that had the same outcome once an outsider arrived at the scene.

“Really, no one knows what it was, at first,” you try to explain, “but, again, before you know it, we’re trying to catch these guys before they even know we’re there, and find them doing these weird meetings, chanting, doing all sorts of rituals, and the like. They wouldn’t wear robes and do all of that cliche stuff- but they did all have some kind of marking somewhere on their person, nothing really seemed to connect the deaths besides the marking, and the most we could gather is that the place of the mark on a person’s body was symbolic to them. Though, that’s just a running theory. We haven’t had anyone able to actually confirm that yet.”

Bruce raises a brow, “Like… a similar injury or something? A symbol?”

You make a so-so gesture with your hand, “Yes, but it can differ from each person. It’s odd, but it’s like their way of showing some kind of connection, without making it too obvious that they’re all connected. Though, there are some similarities, like how the marking is carved into the skin, and represents a star or circle or eclipse of some kind.”

Superman agrees, adding, “I haven’t seen many of the symbols myself, but those I have did seem to show the sun in some way, but more often than not, it’s like they were trying to imply a blocked out sun.”

“Like a solar eclipse?” Bruce tries to confirm, brows furrowing.

“Yes,” Superman nods, though you notice how he starts to pale slightly. Hm.

From there, you go on and explain what you can - not going into full detail, but seemingly giving all the information you could provide, and to a civilian at that. With Superman chipping in every now and again, including some of what he’s seen and experienced on his own as well, which was… enlightening. More so than you thought when you originally saw him, but interesting all the same. Though, you do take note of just how little he’s giving as well. Most of his powers are no secret if you know who to ask, and just from that alone, you knew he wasn’t saying as much as he could, but didn’t press or even try to push. After all, you were just a police officer, weren’t you?

Regardless, the conversation goes on for a little longer. With you even mentioning how the group is normally separated, and each subdivision acts as their own entity despite reacting the same to being ‘caught’ and having very similar practices. Some will try to spread what they preach through acting as a church, and only letting in their most devout followers, to more lowkey approaches such as hiding what they’re really doing through parties, or college club activities, and so on. No official name is known about the group, and aside from the markings, similarities in practices, and whatever it is they preach, there is another thing that ties them together - and it’s arguably the biggest tie all the groups have to one another.

“It’s an event they keep mentioning, but no one knows what it really is. Considering their other… practices, everyones a little concerned to find out what it entails, but if you ask me, it could also be something they use to scare new followers- even if it sounds… well, for lack of a better term, ‘edgy’.” Bruce raises a brow at your words, and gestures for you to continue.

“Well… don’t leave me hanging, what’s the event called?”

“The Red Dawn.”

“... Do you have any idea what they even mean by that?”

“Not a clue, sorry, Mr. Wayne. Though, I doubt it’s anything to worry about. The only ones these people seem to be hurting is themselves, after all, and while I do intend to stop them and put an end to this, I doubt they’ll hurt anyone outside of their little ‘circle’.”

“Oh… alrighty, then.” Taking a sip of his cup, Bruce lets the information settle in before deciding to ask, “Do you think that could be the name of their group? Especially if they care about that ‘event’ so much, it wouldn’t be too far-fetched to assume that, right? Not the most creative thing to do… but it makes some kind of sense, no?”

You offer a small smile, as if trying to reassure the man, “I highly doubt it. If that was their name, we would’ve known by now with the months that have passed, and besides, while that does seem to be an event they are focused on- I think it's only that. Just another small thing that just so happens to connect all the groups together or a name they go by as a collective, and even then it would suggest a kind of unity that we just don’t see in the group. As similar as they are, they are still divided. Well, from what we could gather, anyway.”

Bruce only gives a nod, “I see…”

With that, after a bit longer of conversing, you’re essentially let go. Bruce thanks you for the information, and sends you on your way, but not before mentioning a party he plans to host on Halloween with one last flash of a smile despite the conversation you just had, and Superman gives you a wave, saying he hopes to see you back in Metropolis soon, and to keep up the good work - but only when he’s essentially made to stay when Bruce says he has more questions to ask the hero. You don’t bother to question it, and just let Alfred lead you to the door - who wishes you the best of luck on the case, and to have a good day. Bruce Wayne was rich, you wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out he had some special relationship with half the heroes on Earth, but that wasn’t worth thinking about now.

Especially not when you noticed someone at the door.

“... Should I ask why a kid like you is trying to hide in his own bushes, or is it just some ‘teenager thing’ I don’t understand, Thomas?” At the sound of your voice, and the sudden call out, Duke tenses and practically springs to life all over again as he jumps and practically scrambles to keep himself straight. You raise a brow at the defensive stance he initially takes, but upon noticing you, the teenager eases, and lets out a sigh of relief.

Clearing his throat, he says, “Uh, hi, officer [Last Name]! I… didn’t realize it would be over so soon! Haha!” His nervous response gets a snicker out of you, which only seems to further his own embarrassment, and thus, makes you more amused.

Though, you spare him some of the torment and don’t openly laugh at him, and instead just ask, “What’re you doing out here, kid? Can’t you just head inside? Since, y’know, you live here?” You tease a little, resting your hands on your hips, “Or am I mistaken?”

Duke chuckles awkwardly at your words, straightening himself out, shifting in place a bit, “No- no, I just… wanted some air?” He didn’t sound too sure of himself, but you let the teenager be, and just gave a nod.

“Right. Well, enjoy the outdoors in the bushes, Thomas, I’ll see you soon.” With one last amused grin, you take your leave, and once again wave behind you.

Honestly, you thought you’d just walk off silently once again, but this time, a yell is heard from behind you after you hear some shuffling around and the sound of rustling leaves.

“Wait-! Uh- Thanks for the muffin and small snacks from yesterday! They were really good!” You hear Duke shout, “Have a good day!” He seems to mumble something under his breath, but you’re too far away to hear it.

Regardless, you just continue to walk, and soon shove both your hands in your pockets.

You walk away with a smile.

-----------------------

Back in the Manor, Bruce takes a long sip of his coffee, and looks over to Clark - who looks down at the cup of tea in his hands.

“So?”

The super runs a hand through his hair, taking a moment to respond, but even then he seems confused, almost distressed, “It lines up, but I’ll be honest, Bruce. I don’t remember half of what they mentioned. Even the half I did remember… some of it I could barely recall.”

The vigilante stops, becoming too still to pause, and yet not stiff enough to freeze as he just stares at Clark. It’s only after a few beats of silence, and setting his cup to the side that he’s able to ask the only sensible question to a response like that, “What do you mean?”

Clark takes another second, running his hand down from his hair, to his neck and rubbing the muscle there, as if trying to soothe himself before taking in a deep breath, “Y’know that church [Last Name] mentioned? Yeah, I tried to do some research of my own, and went in as a curious journalist who was just trying to see what the church was like, and so on- you know how it is. I got there for the first sermon, bright and early, but when the pastor started to talk… well, the next thing I know is that I’m outside of the church, the service ended, and it’s now night. I was there all day, but didn’t remember any of it. I even checked my notes and everything- nothing. Like all I did was just… sit there, and then leave after everything was done.” It’s then that he looks at Bruce, distress a little clearer now.

“Of course, I tried a few more times, but the same thing kept happening, and the only thing that changed was that I started to feel sick- just really… gross and horrible all over, like going to each service was literally draining the energy out of me- and I noticed it wasn’t just the church either. I’d try to help out with bigger cases that dealt with the group and sometimes I’d just suddenly end up somewhere totally different, with no memory of how I got there, or what I did during that time.” He takes a breath, caressing the fragile china in his hands, and he raises the cup to his lips, but doesn’t take a sip right away. Instead, he lets it sit there, barely an inch in front of his face. “It wasn’t so bad at first. Just a few seconds or minutes lost with nothing really being done- it was harmless, just a little disorientating at times, but nothing to really worry about. But then… then it got longer the more I tried to help and involved myself with solving the problem. I lost countless minutes, even hours, and ended up in areas with little to no memory of how I got there, and decided it was best to pull away when an entire week had passed, with me having no memory of what happened, what I did, or where I even was- which was hundreds of miles away from Metropolis.”

It’s only as Clark takes another sip of his tea, which is a little cold by now, does Bruce use that opportunity to speak. Not only to get to the bottom of this, but to help his friend with this as well - since it’s clearly distressing the super one way or another.

“Do you think it’s some form of mind control?” When Clark shakes his head, Bruce gives him time to gather his thoughts and explain.

“I’m… not sure. Naturally, I tried to not get as involved, but couldn’t let the group spread or- or let them do whatever they wanted freely, so I asked for some help and it had… varying results.” He takes a moment to sigh, finishing the tea as he sets it to the side, and tries to find a way to say what he was thinking, “Some of those who are nonhuman were like me- they’d start to feel horribly sick after a few days, and lose track of time, starting out in small amounts, and eventually jumping to days and weeks, the others… well, they were like our human allies.”

The vigilante’s brows crease at that, “... Which means?”

Clark scratches the back of his neck, looking away as he tries to gather his thoughts, “I don’t know how exactly to explain it- but after some time, they’d become… too interested in the case. Trying to get more involved with things then they needed to be, and basically became… well, I don’t know if there’s a better term to use, but they almost seemed obsessed with the group, Bruce. It was.. horrible to watch, and I guess I just want to say…” he drags on, not sure if he should add more or not, but his heart gets the best of him, and he sighs heavily. Looking back at Bruce, he continues, “Please, be careful with this. You and your family. I really mean it, please.”

Bruce takes a moment to look at his friend, and take in the concerned look on his face. This wasn’t the first time the super had expressed his concerns, but if there was ever a moment that felt like Clark would genuinely do something if Bruce didn’t listen, or really wanted him to take what he was saying seriously, since Clark himself knew how Bruce is and could be - this would be one of them. The super was always openly and naturally caring, even if he worried too much at times, but something felt different this time around, and that was saying something.

Still, Bruce could only nod after a sigh of his own, “We’ll try our best,” is the best he could give.

… A moment of silence passes. With Alfred taking the opportunity to refill Clark’s cup, and allowing Bruce to finish his. It’s a gesture, in a way, to let the super relax, and to remind him that if he needed a small break, then he was more than welcome to take it here - and Clark seemed to realize that as he let himself ease slightly. This whole thing had taken its toll on the super, that was obvious from how he’s been acting all day thus far, and the worst part of it all was that it wasn’t even over. However, there also wasn’t an immediate need to acknowledge that right now, and so, both men took in this little breather, knowing they’d have to get back to work once it ended - and when that happens, who knows when they’ll get a chance to breathe like this again?

It’s that very thought that makes it stretch on for just a little longer, lasting until Bruce is on his second cup, and Clark is nearly on his third - and only then is it broken when Bruce asks, “What were you talking about before, when you said you didn’t think they’d ‘settle’ in Gotham too?”

With one last small sip, Clark says, “A while ago, I heard some of the voices I recognized as members of the group were getting further away, almost spreading out. I couldn’t tell where they were headed exactly, but they just seemed to… disburse. Go their separate ways,” a brow of his furrows again as he adds, “I don’t know if anything caused them to move, or if the directions they went in and the cities they possibly went to, was some calculated move- but I do suspect it was an organized effort. For what? I couldn’t say, but more mentions of that ‘Red Dawn’ [Last Name] talked about earlier did pop up around the city for a day or two before anyone went anywhere.”

Bruce hums at the information, taking mental notes before asking, “Is it possible that some members might still be in Metropolis and other cities near there?”

The super thinks for a moment, but eventually nods, “I wouldn’t see why not, and I could check to find out as many groups as I can, and try to keep you updated on that end.”

“That’d be a big help, Clark. Thanks,” Bruce gives a nod of his own, and Clark smiles.

“Of course! Anything to help, Bruce.”

———————————————

Despite the morning that had transpired, the night was relatively normal - it was for Jason, anyway. If anything, it seemed to lack a little more action than it usually did, but hey, the night was still young, and in Gotham it was always too early to make that kind of call.

Regardless, Jason just went about his night. Taking out a few criminals he ran into here and there, staying out of sight of his old man and Cass, the usual. Nothing stood out, and honestly Jason was starting to think that nothing outside of the ordinary would actually happen. Though, that is until he notices some shady looking people sneak their way behind a building, and hears a garage door open from where he was standing. Now, what was going on there…?

“BOO!”

Just as Jason took a step forward, about to tail the shady figures, he felt a sudden weight on his head, shoulders - which caused him to stumble on his footing, and though he barely caught himself, the vigilante found himself irritated as he yelped out a, “WHAT THE HELL-?!”

Giggling could be heard above him, “Did I scare ya? Admit it! I got you that time!” The grin was even evident in her voice, and Jason didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

“Get the hell off of me, Steph!” Jason hissed out instead, completely ignoring the fact he had ‘caught’ her on instinct, not wanting her to fall off and risk hurting herself with her reckless behavior.

“Aw, c’mon! I totally got you!” Stephanie said loudly with a laugh, only to yelp when she was practically thrown off of Jason’s shoulders, and even if she swiftly caught herself she still looked at Jason and huffs, crossing her arms, “Why can’t you just admit it? There’s no need to be so rude about it, y’know!”

Jason just scoffs, “You didn’t get me, okay? Just leave me alone, squirt.”

Stephanie, of course, doesn’t and sticks around - and as annoyed as Jason acts, he does little to actually push her away. The banter continues, and for a moment they are more than just two vigilantes, but instead, family in their own simple yet messy way. Both of their definitions of such a thing skewed, warped, and changed as they’ve grown up and lived through their lives, along with their definition of love, but now, something like that didn’t seem to matter. It didn’t, and even as they went after the shady figures Jason had seen earlier, it only seemed to matter less as the banter continued.

Dealing with crime in Gotham was always the same, and growing up on the streets made it easier to adapt to the different locations criminals liked to tuck themselves into - so much so that each location almost felt the same. The routine was familiar, sneak into the place, try to pick up on whatever was going on, and put a stop to it. Smugglers were common, nothing new, but what was curious was seeing how much of their supplies they had - guys must’ve been stacking up for weeks, maybe longer, but that didn’t matter. A trade of some kind was clearly going on, and as always, it was their job to figure out what was going on and to stop it.

Sticking to the shadows was second nature for numerous reasons, and the conversation they overheard sounded like the same one they’ve heard time and time again - seriously, did anyone ever think of something new to say? Or any other way to say things?

“You’ve got it?” “The load of it that was designated to us, yes.” “Is it ready?” “Yes.” “Are you certain?” “You know we can’t stall. Just take the load, and take it to the next destination.”

“Right.”

Just as the other spokes person made a gesture for the people behind them to gather the goods, that’s when the first strike was dealt. Stephanie had snuck up on a guy, and got things started, and as usual, the people pulled their guns - so Jason got to work.

Yet, just as he fired the first shot at someone’s shoulder, and they fired their own, did the vigilantes realize where the guns were actually pointed.

The criminals had their guns pointed at one another.

The shot Jason fired hit its mark, but so did the other as in one instance, Stephanie had someone in a chokehold, and in the next - there was no brain to send air too anymore. No eyes to roll back, and while the body went limp, what remained of the head was splattered on the young vigilante, and the space behind her.

More went off, and it took Jason a second too late to spring into action, and Stephanie a few more as the gunshots kept going off - and yet not a single bullet got close to her direction, unlike that first one. There was always a body in the way, and god, all she felt was sick. Though, when practically shoved to the side by Jason did she snap out of it a little, and try to save whoever was left.

They worked in a frenzy, trying to do what they could - even if Jason found out very quickly that just getting them out of the way wasn’t enough, as he heard a weird crunch come from the mouth of the woman he just saved, only for her to give a twisted smile before she started to seize, foam at the mouth, and he could do nothing as he watched her eyes roll to the back of her head but curse.

“DON’T LET THEM CLOSE THEIR MOUTHS! THEY’RE POISONING THEMSELVES!”

Oh, but Jason said it too late, as Stephanie also had the vial pleasure of watching the body seize and subsequently die in her arms despite her own attempts. They still tried, of course, because what else could they really do? Yet, the result was the same. It was like watching a massacre, except… well, the very people who died caused it.

All wasn’t lost as they were able to save two people out of the handful they had run into in the storage space, but at least it was something, right?

One of the criminals didn’t speak, and only glared at the vigilantes, while the other laughed suddenly as the two tried to catch their breaths. The man’s gruff laugh cutting through the deafening silence, blood now coating the walls, bodies lying about… how could anyone laugh at a time like this? Especially when his supposed comrades have just died right in front of him?... Not that the person glaring at them looks any more distraught or distressed at all by this turn of events.

When the man starts to speak, that sickened feeling Stephanie felt before grows, and a similar seed is planted in Jason’s gut - and that really said something, since they’ve heard maniacs go on all kinds of long winded rants unprompted… but this felt different. It lacked the sick humor of Joker explaining his schemes, or the thought and linguists put behind Riddler’s verbal puzzles, and just felt misplaced. As a pair, as vigilantes they’ve heard plenty of talks just like this, and yet… something about it stopped Jason from pulling the trigger early, or from either of them doing something to stop the man, and to just shut him up. Perhaps the sight they just witnessed was taking its toll on them now, but that coupled with this? This wasn’t just some run of the mill thing. This was deliberate, but wasn’t a trap either.

Still, the man goes on, even when his voice becomes hoarse as his vocals fight against the restraint put in between his teeth - just enough space to make him unable to not poison himself with… whatever chemical he had that’d do him in like the others who still had their heads intact. They strain as he wheezes out a laugh, actions rough for someone tied down, and left sitting on his ass. Just as his nails bloody as he scratches at his restraints, his own words scratch at his throat the more he speaks. So much so that instead of spit, blood flies out as he continues, going on about some higher being, how they’ve helped him see the light, and how just their presence alone has made him understand what ‘needs to be done’. How he knows they will guide him to a better end, because he can feel it when he’s close, that he is doing the right thing, and that they have become so connected with… whoever he’s describing, that even being in the city now satisfies him enough, and makes him see sense even in the most vial of situations.

It’s all nonsense, it has to be, of course it is - yet they listen anyway, unwillingly, unable to move, and he doesn’t stop. Will he ever?

“This world will experience a new beginning! A chance to be reborn anew, to be remade! And only by the best, as they are the only one who can be trusted with such a task!” The man’s laugh almost sounds like a bowl coupled with a growl at this point, “The skies will turn red, the night will vanish and be replaced with a light never seen before as we are all accepted into paradise! The sun will encapsulate the sky in a way it never has before, and reveal the true colors that the world has kept away from us! It will be one! We will be one! It was always meant to be one!”

Red runs down from his lips, and yet he continues despite the strain in his voice as his shouts become louder, practically booming in the small space, “The waters will churn like acid in the stomach, eyes will be drawn to the vessel who will bring upon the awakening of the world, and everyone’s hearts will be taken ahold of as they all come to realize that we are in good hands! Everyone should just accept the end for it is already upon us!” A wheeze escaped instead of a chuckle, but what it is intended to be is not lost on anyone.

“Just a few more measly days remain! Just a little longer and we will all be blessed with the sight of a new day! A new life! A new purpose! The Red Dawn w-”

Finally, it all comes to an abrupt end with one last gun shot. A shot, which goes through the man’s head, and pierces through it so cleanly, that it goes into the other person who was beside him, and drills a similar hole in their head - only stopping when it digs enough to crawl out of that second head, and land on the ground. The gleam of its shine almost innocent, as if it hadn’t killed the last two people who remained of the self-massacre - and now, it is only that. A complete, and utter massacre.

The shot brought both Stephanie and Jason out of the strange trance they found themselves under and tried to recover as quickly as they could. Jason sprung to action and tried to rush out and find whoever killed the people they tried to save- with Stephanie reporting to Bruce.

She tried to explain everything that had happened as hurriedly as she could, feeling sicker than ever and having to force herself to look away from the bodies, along the two new additions to the pile. Honestly, she didn’t even realize she had been hyperventilating until Bruce had her try to calm down, and take deep breaths - and yet every breath she took, she could only smell blood, earth, and an odd hint of something sweet that settled on the back of her tongue. Everything about it made her want to throw up, but she managed and tried to compose herself as much as she could.

When asked what was being smuggled, Stephanie looked over to the sacks stacked on top of each other neatly against the wall. Stepping over a few of the bodies, and trying to not look down more than she needed to - she took down one of the sacks and… what?

“It’s- it’s soil?” Why had these people killed themselves over this? There’s no way that this dirt could be worth dying over, right? Maybe it was a cover up. It has to be. It has to.

So, she cuts the bag open and soil spills out, except it looks… weird, “It- it’s either dirt or some weird moss, because there is no way this stuff is supposed to look this red.”

That does it for Bruce, and on his end, he quietly glances at Cassandra before looking out to the city once again, “Bring some of it in if you can, and bring Jason with you.” His voice is firm, and leaves no room for argument… as always.

[“Right, talk to you in a bit, B.”] With that, the connection is temporarily disconnected, and Bruce switches the lines, and immediately talks to Barbara again. Something about how while Superman is doing his search, they have to cover their own bases, and Barbara offers to call Dick to see if he’s run into something similar, and if he’s willing to help out here so they can get everything figured out faster, and Bruce lets her get to it would a simple thanks.

Cassandra can’t help but simply observe, curious as to what’s really going on, but getting a feeling that it’s nothing good. She can see that in the posture of Bruce, but it’s not just him - it’s the commissioner, the officers at the station, and so on. Yet kept so underwraps, that only does actively searching for it can feel it, as the civilians remain unaware, and go on with their lives. Though, something does bother her a little.

She didn’t see you much tonight, but when she did, you seemed just as tired and drained as you did the other night, and yet, there was no evidence of distress. Yes, there was some form of stress there, but you weren’t overly tense or even panicked, and while Cassandra didn’t know much, she could gather enough that something big could be happening. So why weren’t you more concerned? More… paranoid and just generally showed more signs of some inner turmoil like her father? You’ve been involved in this case for longer than he has, and yet… you’re the calmest one compared to everyone else. Cassandra can’t help but wonder why.

… Perhaps it’s about time she helped out in whatever was going on.

[merakiui]

OHSHC AU where reader breaks a precious arrifact from one of the dorms maybe all but instead of repaying the huggeeee debt with hours of labour she has to pay with her body and can’t refuse :)

every kink in the book is used as she’s pleading with the dorm leaders for mercy, crying about forgiveness but all they can hear is that her mouth is very wide open and needs to be replaced with a cock or gag </3 poor reader doesn’t have time to take birth control! and none of the students at nrc know what condoms are oopsies!! imagine savanaclaw in their heat … oh boy rip her pussy! she’ll never know a peaceful day until graduation but even then one of the dorm leaders might take her with them to spend forever with them

Omg yes,,, ohshc au, but it's freaky and full of sex because those scheming boys now have a girl in their debt and that opens so many possibilities. Their methods in dealing with you would all be different, of course, but in the end you're probably getting dicked down either way. <3

I think Riddle's punishments are probably more old-fashioned. If you can't fix whatever it is you broke, then you will write lines stating that you will be more careful, that you won't break anything again, etc. Or he'll make you write an essay detailing why exactly you're sorry, why you ought to be forgiven, etc. T_T really, these are just punishments his own mother gave to him in order to push him to do better in his studies. Riddle doesn't know any better.

He thinks differently when someone like Ace or Cater offhandedly and jokingly remarks how unlucky you must feel. Good thing their Housewarden isn't some pervert, otherwise he could totally force you to give him blowjobs whenever he wanted all under the guise of "repaying your debt." Riddle is appalled. He would never stoop so low! This is Heartslabyul, not Octavinelle. >:( still, the basic concept is just a little appealing. So maybe he's got a small crush on you, and maybe it would be easier to get you to spend time with him if you had no other choice. He makes you join him for tea parties in the gardens, for games of croquet, etc. His hope is that you'll warm up to him and not feel so rigid around him. orz

Leona probably doesn't care as much about the artifact as someone like Riddle might. It has no sentimental value to him personally, so why should he be worried? Besides, it was pretty old anyway. But that doesn't mean you can get off completely innocent. You're the reason he's got more work on his plate now, what with having to deal with the Headmage squawking at him about it. He allows you to choose between two punishments: either you become Savanaclaw's errand girl and do much the same work Ruggie does around the dorm, or you spend every night literally warming his bed (i.e. let him use you as a pillow if you're going to be good and still and quiet). If you want an easy way out, you'll choose the latter. Besides, his bed is comfortable, big enough for two. And as long as you aren't a pain, he doesn't mind. (You are definitely going to be warming his bed in other ways. The innuendo in his words is not lost on Leona.)

Azul...... of course he's slimy and sleazy about it. Oh, you poor soul. How is he ever going to get over this dear, priceless artifact that you have so carelessly broke? Jade is there to oh-so-helpfully inform you of its market price and what it could currently go for if sold. And Floyd's there to poke fun at the unfortunate predicament you've found yourself in. But Azul is a resourceful octopus. He makes a grand show of contemplating what he should do with you just to watch you squirm nervously, as if he hasn't already planned it out from the very beginning. He'll capitalize on your being a girl and have you work the floor in the lounge. There's always an increase in tips and sales when you're serving the customers, and why wouldn't there be? A cute, helpless girl in a school full of boys is an appealing sight.

He's irritating, but he isn't callous! Jade and Floyd are there to look out for you in case any of the patrons get it in their heads that they ought to appreciate you through touch instead of simply staring. Your uniforms change with every new event Mostro Lounge holds. Azul knows his target audience well because he also fits into that same group LOL. So maybe the sight of you in frilly uniforms is appealing. Sue him. >_< he wants you so badly, and luckily (with you being indebted to him) he has you all to himself. :) after hours are a very fun time at the lounge.

Kalim doesn't see what the issue is. He's not mad, so please don't cry!!! 🥺 you'll make him cry if you're not happy... Jamil is just about ready to pass out while he calculates just how bad this is. And here Kalim is, not caring in the slightest! T_T but Kalim is more sympathetic towards you, not the vase you broke. Besides, he can just get another one. :D no harm done at all! There really isn't any punishment to be had. If you insist on repaying your debt, Kalim tells you it's all water under the bridge.

Jamil is the only one who insists this is a good idea, and if Jamil thinks it's fine then Kalim agrees. So now you're sort of,,, there in Scarabia. Jamil puts you to work when Kalim isn't around, but when Kalim is there he spoils you rotten. The complete opposite of a punishment. There's definitely dubious shadows to this, though. For all of the delicious foods and alcohol you consume, you wake with hazy memories, only ever recalling you looked into the eyes of...something before you fell. Was it a snake? Maybe... but Kalim is always there in the morning to smother you in affection, so maybe it's not so bad.

You are Vil's newest pet project. He goes in with metaphorical fork and knife and cuts into you with his criticism, all of which is completely valid. You were clumsy when you broke that artifact. You weren't paying attention to your surroundings. You were completely oblivious, so in your own world. Epel would feel bad for you, but finally he gets to relax just a little bit now that Vil's eyes are mostly off of him and centered on you. Vil is going to put you through a reformation of sorts. You will come out of it your best, most elegant self! A wonderful improvement from your earlier carelessness. Only then will he forgive your previous transgression.

You and Vil get on like oil and water. That is, you don't mix at all. You are subjected to curses left and right because Vil is so strict. Suddenly, you can't eat certain foods and if you try to sneak them you find they've all been cursed (courtesy of Vil). If you try to slack on the work he has you do, even when you know he's not around, somehow word gets back to Vil. That creepy hunter always seems to know everything you do even when you're alone. It's troubling. Vil likes to think his heart is an iron fortress, so it's impossible to fathom when he falls for you first (and so hopelessly, at that)!

Idia doesn't put as much value in that artifact as he does in his own anime collection. If you broke something from his collection that was limited edition, he'd be far more upset (and then proceed to pull out the second one he got as back-up for this very specific moment). But this is an easy fix, really. He has the technology to make it good as new and, if that can't be done, he can always build a new one. Upgrades are important and necessary in some cases, especially when things get too outdated. It's a little awkward having a real 3D girl in his room all the time, though. >_< kick his ass in the twst equivalent of Smash and he's looking at you in a completely different light (hearing you trash talk him is so arousing; he's never been more hard).

Let's say the thing you broke in this case was a gargoyle. You're not sure how it happened, but it's headless now and Malleus is just staring silently at you. You can't read the emotions on his face, but with the way Sebek is shouting at you to get on your knees and beg for forgiveness you think you're about to be burnt to a crisp. It's so uneasy and awkward, and all you can do is apologize profusely, insisting you didn't mean to break it. It's Lilia who comes to your rescue: "Now, now, Malleus. You'll scare the poor child if you keep frowning so. Mistakes happen, do they not?" Silver also comes to your aid, adding that it wasn't your intention to break this gargoyle. It was an accident.

So now here you are, the second member of the Gargoyle Studies Club, accompanying Malleus for club activities while he teaches you all about gargoyles so that you can gain a better appreciation for them. It was Lilia's idea in the first place. He is Malleus's unofficial wingman. One way or another, you're going to find yourself alone in the woods with Malleus while Lilia is in the bushes belting out "romantic" love ballads from the old ages. T_T someone put peepaw to bed... at the very least, it lessens the awkward tension between you and Malleus, and it even gets the both of you laughing.

[sanipoyo]

THEIR KID ASKING ABOUT THEIR FACIAL MARKS & SCARS

note - jujutsu kaisen, fluff.

INUMAKI had just came home from work, excited to see his two favorite people. when he entered the door, his jacket was unzipped enough to see the unique markings on his face. these marks were not a new sight to your son but for some reason, he had a million questions about them. “dad, what are those from? who gave you that? why does it look like that? can i get those when i get bigger?”, he spouted and all toge could do was smile and nod as you tried to answer all your sons�� questions for him.

TOJI has a major soft spot for his daughter. he finds himself sitting at a small table surrounded by stuffed animals drinking invisible tea. your daughter comes around with a cloth, wiping all her toys faces ‘clean’. “your turn!” she exclaimed as she approaches her dad, aggressively rubbing his face with the cloth. she kept wiping toji’s scar, as if she was trying to wipe it clean off of his face. “okay. okay. it’s all clean now.” he grumbles and your daughter examines her father’s face. “what is that”, she asks pointing at the scar on his lip. “it’s a battle wound.” toji exaggerates, causing your daughter to light up. she begins asking a bunch of questions about the ‘battle wound’ and she even wants one of her own. 

SUKUNA’s daughter sat in between you and him. you both were doing your own thing and your daughter was watching a show on the tv. per usual, she starts messing her with her dad; pinching his cheeks, putting his hair into ponytails, etc. she grabs his face with both of her hands and squeezes his lips together so he looks like a fish. this caused sukuna to set his book aside and finally pay attention to her. your daughter begins to trace the marks on her dads’ face, instantly getting full of curiosity. “did you draw on yourself?” she blurts out and you can’t help but to laugh as sukuna shoots you a glare. “this is just a part of my face.” he replies blandly and your daughter shrugs and continues being a nuisance towards him.

“this is so cool!” CHOSO’s son exclaimed as he looked at himself in the mirror. he is developing a blood mark similar to his dad’s going across the bridge of his nose. choso smiles and examines the mark himself. although the mark is somewhat like his own, it still has it’s own uniqueness to it. “what is it?” your son asks, he never really thought to ask about it since it didn’t seem like a big deal to him but since he’s starting to have one of his own, he’s curious about it. “i’ll explain to you one day. just know, only the coolest people get one” choso replies, causing your son to cringe at his dads’ use of his lingo. “you are not cool.” his son responds, choso silently gasps and begins to sulk at his sons’ cruel remark. you will be hearing about this later on.

Ⓒ all published work belongs to sanipoyo! do not copy/plagiarize.

[spr1ngtweaks]

Hey 👋 :D mild request here, just wondering kinda. How would Harley go about you moving in together? And what were the first few day or even first week like? Was it hard for him to adjust? Because you've mentioned that he'll do things only when y'all alone at home, which implies that they live together. Would he just say "Move in with me" or something? I'm also curious as to how he'd adjust to having someone in his presence at essentially all times. It'd be cool to see some headcanons of yours as to how he sleeps the first night or just little habits he has :)

Moving in together would be a huge shift for Harley, considering his need for control, personal space, and routine. Here’s how I think it would go down:

Moving in Together: How Would He Approach It?

Harley wouldn’t make a big deal about it. There would be no romantic speech or nervous anticipation. If he decided that cohabitation was necessary or beneficial, he would simply state it in a matter-of-fact way.

Scenario 1: It could be as blunt as, “It would be more efficient if you lived here.” No flowery reasoning, just straight logic—less time wasted traveling back and forth, easier to keep an eye on you, and more control over variables.

Scenario 2: If you spent more and more time at his place, he might just… stop acknowledging your old residence. One day, you’d realize he’s cleared out an entire section of his home for you, your things are already moved, and when you bring it up, he just says, “You practically live here already. I see no point in maintaining two spaces.”

Harley doesn’t do things without thinking several steps ahead, so if he proposes living together, he has already considered every angle, including risks and benefits.

The First Few Days: Adjustments & Challenges

Harley is methodical, structured, and values order. He’s used to being alone, which means the first few days (or even weeks) of cohabitation would be a challenge for him, even if he wanted you there.

Things He Struggles With:

Lack of Complete Control: Even if he trusts you, having another person exist in his space disrupts his normal patterns. He’ll notice every tiny thing you do that deviates from his expectations.

Noise & Movement Awareness: Harley is hyper-aware of his surroundings. Even small noises—like you shifting in bed, opening cabinets, or even breathing differently—might irritate him at first. Not because he’s angry, but because he’s not used to it.

Unspoken Expectations: He expects you to pick up on his silent routines without explicitly explaining them. If you put something in the ‘wrong’ place, he won’t say anything… but he will move it back, and you might get a lingering stare that translates to, "That is incorrect. Try again.”

Things He Does to Adjust:

He mentally maps out your habits, schedules, and behaviors. If you always make tea at 7 AM, he’ll register it and start factoring it into his mornings.

He might initially disappear into his own activities more than usual, retreating into work or routines as a coping mechanism.

If he truly values you, he will make an effort—not through words, but through accommodations. A small adjustment in his rigid schedule to allow room for yours. Tiny, barely noticeable shifts in behavior that indicate he's adapting.

First Night Sleeping Together in the Same Space

Harley is a light sleeper. The first night will be awkward, even if you two have shared a bed before, because this time, it’s permanent—this is his home, his sanctuary, and now it includes you.

Possible Reactions the First Night:

He Doesn’t Sleep Well at First: He’s too aware of another person in his bed, analyzing every breath, shift, and movement. He lies awake longer than usual, adjusting to the new presence.

He Stays Rigid for a While: He keeps to his side of the bed at first, almost like he’s waiting to see if you move first. It takes a few nights before he naturally shifts closer.

He Still Wakes Up at His Usual Time: No matter how restless he is, his internal clock doesn’t change. Even if you’re still asleep, he’s already up, already moving.

Small Habits He Develops Over Time

Tracking Your Presence: If he wakes up and you’re not beside him, his brain immediately registers it. He won’t panic, but he’ll quietly scan the space to confirm where you are.

Adjusting the Environment Subtly: If he notices you struggle with cold mornings, the thermostat will be adjusted. If you always leave your book in a certain spot, a small table might appear next to your side of the bed.

Sleep Positions Change Over Time: At first, he keeps distance. Eventually, he might casually let a hand rest on your arm or back while sleeping—nothing clingy, just contact.

So moving in with Harley wouldn’t be romantic in a conventional sense. There’s no big sentimental moment, but there’s intentionality in everything he does. He struggles with change, but once he fully adjusts, his actions will reflect a deep (though unspoken) attachment.

Living with him would feel like slowly becoming integrated into a complex system—he won’t say “I need you here”, but every small adaptation he makes proves it.

[olderthannetfic]

hi, as someone who is tragically gen Z and only ever read AO3, can I ask: what was so great about LiveJournal? Like, I know that there were fics posted there (and I've even read about the "purge", so I get why it isn't used anymore) and that it was sort of a forum-type thing. But what I don't understand, wouldn't Tumblr fill in the latter function? How was that site any different? I see a lot of people reminiscing about it and I'm confused

--

A big factor in LJ's greatness is timing and nostalgia.

It was genuinely great, but it wasn't quite as great as all of the Lo, shall the Golden Age ne'er come again? posts suggest.

LJ arrived at a pivotal time in the development of the internet both in terms of technical stuff and how many people had access. Many fans who are now in their thirties to fifties first discovered fandom through LJ and many were at a time in their lives when they were feeling energetic and up to making lots of new friends—and to figuring out how to make a site work for them.

I got on LJ in 2002 when it required invites. Fandom arrived in droves in 2003, first via coordinated campaigns to get invites to key people and then when LJ opened up free account creation to everyone. Back then, LJ's features sucked. It was impossible to search properly, among other things. At its height (2005-7, let's say), there was a reasonable site search, and fans had developed all sorts of community resources for finding each other.

People often remember this phase but not the early days of suckitude.

This development parallels how Tumblr used to not have that private chat feature and how a lot of fuckyeah[whatever] type tumblrs have helped curate the site and make it much more usable for fans. Fandom draining away from LJ after strikethrough also parallels people draining away from Tumblr after the purge.

There are people who talk about Tumblr the way my cohort talks about LJ...

And to the shock of no one, they are people who came of age on Tumblr, who found fandom via Tumblr, who were on Tumblr during pivotal times in their lives and ones when they had energy to make friends and figure out how a site worked.

Those same Tumblrites are now making all the same geriatric-sounding posts we LJers do about how other sites lack the required features to be good for fandom while missing that 90% of tumblr's "features" at its height (2012-2016, let's say) were actually fan-created and were basically the same as any fandom newsletter or links page or all the versions of this kind of personal curation stretching back to long before the internet existed.

What life phase you hit a site at matters.

--

With all of that said, no, LJ was not a forum. It was a blogging site with threaded comments.

The key point to understand is that conversation was always happening in a specific person's space. Unlike on a true forum, people were in the comments on a particular post in a journal owned by another fan. (On a forum, there's the first post in a thread, but it's still more of a communal space with less of a hierarchy.)

Overall, the LJ format can have a feeling a bit like you're over at someone's house for tea. There's more of a sense of intimacy and also behaving yourself in front of community members.

Tumblr being obscure and impossible to find anything in does give it some of the same vibe relative to Twitter, but it's still part of modern social media that tries to shove every rando into the face of every other rando.

But it wasn't just vibes: LJ also had robust privacy features where you could lock a post to this or that group of friends. You could moderate your comments section properly. Tumblr has far fewer controls to force people to behave or leave on a technical level.

--

The biggest thing many people miss about LJ is the threaded comments. At least by late LJ and on Dreamwidth, you can expand and collapse threads, making it far easier to deal with a massive comments section. But more than that, things are properly threaded with multiple levels of hierarchy that are all easily visible in the same place.

On Tumblr, it used to be extremely difficult to find all of the actual commentary on a post. Nowadays, it's far easier, but you still have to scroll chronologically, and multiple versions of a post with a long chain of commentary may be much more divorced from each other than what would happen in a LJ comments section.

--

But could we use Tumblr pretty much how we used LJ?

We could.

I do.

--

The key things that people tend to miss about LJ, aside from the younger and more excited version of themselves or the friends they've lost since then, are:

Heavily text-based

It may sound odd on the modern internet, but there are a lot of people whose brains don't like or handle an image-heavy site well. They were everywhere in SF book fandom. They were everywhere on the early internet. Today, they're hanging out on Dreamwidth and still going to their SF cons. They're usually not on Tumblr.

You could follow the discussion

Threaded comments help, but a lot of it is about having some place you can check for updates. It wasn't actually that easy to follow big LJ discussions unless you were subscribed to comments and reading along as things were happening instead of coming along after the entire mass of comments had been left.

The tone of the discussion is intellectual and one's enemies are "idiots", not "problematic"

All this requires is a penchant for longwindedness and an itchy blocking finger to remove anyone slinging ad hominems from the comments section.

On tumblr, it's as simple as conversations happening in the replies on a popular account and that person not tolerating suibaiting and threats.

(And make no mistake, a lot of LJ discussion was in the comments on popular accounts, not spread equally between everyone's.)

It does require that multiple people like that tone and want to engage in that way, but lots of people do want to.

--

These days, I interact with tumblr by checking my askbox and reading my activity page. The vast, vast majority of my posts are ones where I'm the OP, so if I block someone, they're booted from the discussion entirely.

For me... yeah, Tumblr functions almost exactly like LJ.

Also like LJ, while I'm hosting the conversation, if you hang around, you'll see the same people again and again in the comments. They may or may not also host that kind of conversation in their space, and there's a larger pool of lurkers who have some notion of which people count as regulars. Other people are watching from the shadows, enjoying or deriding the takes of the usual crowd.

People presumably do like reading my lengthy commentary or they wouldn't be here, but my tumblr wouldn't be popular like this without a healthy pool of other people who chime in regularly. It's not just that there are more people: it's that you see the same people over time. There's a bit more sense of place and community than on some parts of the internet.

--

So, in my opinion, the failure to just recreate LJ fandom on Tumblr was a skill issue.

Threaded comments were great, but LJ culture came from mailing lists, and mailing lists had the same issue as tumblr with the diverging threads.

We solved that back then by clipping out only the parts we wanted to respond to (you'd write "snip" around the quotation to show it was incomplete). We solved the smaller LJ issue by linking to other posts we were referencing and doing discussion link roundups. We solve it on tumblr by, again, linking to what we're talking about and even quoting multiple reblog chains in our own reblog of just one chain.

--

Tumblr's technical features and even general crap-ness aren't really the problem. 90s and early 00s sites regularly went down for periods of time unthinkable today.

The missing piece is people.

When one is in an active fandom with others who curate or with friends who let one know what's up, a site with imperfect features is easy to figure out and retrofit for fandom's needs. When one already feels out of touch and is between fannish passions—or at least fannish passions anyone else cares about—seeing the potential in a new site is hard.

--

Threaded comments are different and better.

LJ's built-in way to see everyone's blog in your own style was better. The automatic timestamps and the ease of seeing a paginated archive of an entire blog was better than tumblr's endless scroll and lack of clear date labeling. But some of that can be fixed with xkit or knowing your way around tumblr well.

A lot of it is nostalgia for the lj era and a refusal to take the time to figure out how to use tumblr in an oldschool internet way.

--

So by all means, people, weigh in about what made LJ great or how the culture felt at the time...

But if I see one more god damn response going "You can't have a conversation on tumblr!" in reply to my tumblr, which contains nothing but conversation, I am coming for you.

[hoshiina]

pairing: hoshina soushirou x gn!reader (no prns)

summary: he still dreams of you and wishes for another chance to make you his, some lines are inspired by hakujitsu by king gnu

warnings: reader is rather lively/bubbly,

notes: TYSM FOR 100 !!!, a/n (yapping) in tags

wc: 1800

Hoshina Soushirou still dreamt of you. Every once in a while, you’d come to visit him in his sleep and it would make him believe that a miracle had occurred, that he had another chance. Every time, he would tell himself that he would never let this go, that he would give it his absolute all this time.

Yet, every time, he would wake up from this dream.

And every time, he would feel his heart drop at the realization of that. He was disappointed, and he knew, but there was no reason to be. It wasn't like anything had happened between the two of you. He liked to believe there was something going on— something more than mere acquaintances or friends, but he knew there wasn't. It must've been all in his head because the last time he had heard of you was before you were moved to the first division. He hadn't heard a single word from you since then, nor has he said anything— but that was just the way it was. There was nothing to do at this point anyway.

He wasn’t with you for all that long, and it was probably just the fact that both of you joined at the same time that naturally started the first conversation. He was far more weary of everything and far less cheerful at the time, and you didn't even work with him most of the time being a researcher, but you didn’t mind that one bit. If you had something you wanted to say, you would tell him and he’d just have to listen. At first, he had no idea why you kept talking to him when he paid hardly any mind, but after a while, he found comfort in your conversations. He had started to look forward to talking to you.

It had only been a few months before the defense force noticed how spectacular your work was and quickly called you over to the first division. There wasn’t a tearful farewell, or even a casual goodbye for that matter. You disappeared along with a cheerful ‘I’ll see you around!’ while you were moving your boxes out and he would hear those words ring in his head for the years to come— in your voice. Yet, at the time, all he could do was force a smile and nod.

It had been so many years since you had moved, he didn’t even know what you looked like now. Probably still stunning. Definitely still stunning. Although he had the chance to see the 1st division officers a lot, you were a researcher who worked behind the scenes. Naturally, there was no reason he'd bump into you, and he didn’t. He never did.

He loved to remember you, but he hated to think about you. He loved to remember the way you would laugh at his silly jokes, the way you would ramble on about the work you had to do daily but would still put in your all, and the way you would always visit him with some cold tea when he trained late into the night if you were still up as well. Actually, he hated thinking about the tea— it would make him start thinking about you. He would think about how you were now, if you were still pilled with work, and if you remembered him.

If he bumped into you, would you remember his name? Maybe if he cracked a lame joke. Maybe if he gave you a few days to think about it. Maybe if he started listing the things you talked about— his most treasured memories. Maybe then you’d say his name again.

See? This is why he hated thinking about you— he had things to be doing.

It wasn't like this happened everyday and it wasn't that big of a deal. It just ruined his day a little when it did happen. So if he had to say, he hated dreaming of you.

As you took over his thoughts again, the emergency alarm started to buzz, as if to tell him to snap out of it. He was thankful, he couldn't still be daydreaming like this.

A smaller-sized identified grade kaiju had appeared near the first division quarters, so the third division was doing more backup work this time. Hoshina was taking care of the smaller kaiju in the vicinity that had spawned from the presence of the honju. It felt nice for him to be doing work, it took his mind off his ramblings and cleared his head. He wasn't too worried about the honju, however. Although it was an identified grade, it wasn't anything they hadn't dealt with before and as much as he liked to tease Narumi about how he was always better at smaller kaiju neutralization, he knew Narumi was extraordinary at what he did.

At least that would have been true for any other kaiju of that size and strength, but Narumi seemed to be struggling far more than expected with this one. From his earpiece, he heard Okonogi notify him that the 1st division was asking to send Narumi some help if possible, and he immediately rushed over.

Yet, by the time he got there, Narumi had already neutralized the kaiju in question, although horribly beat up.

“I don't need your help, Hoshina!” Narumi still managed to yell while on the floor, absolutely bleeding out.

“Oh, shut up, do you want to die?” Hoshina asked. It didn't take an expert to see that Narumi’s condition was concerning.

Narumi soon fell quiet, probably unconscious, while Hoshina found his earpiece lying on the floor near him. He picked it up, hoping it'd connect to the first division just in case they had lost connection to his vitals.

“He's unconscious right now, but he seems to still be breathing. However, he's bleeding dangerously from multiple spots. I think a few ribs might also be broken,” Hoshina said. “There aren't any kaiju nearby at the moment and I'll take care of them if any do come— bring the stretcher right away.”

He waited a moment, but there was no response from the earpiece.

“Hello?” he asked, hoping for a response. After another moment, he heard it.

“Hoshina…?”

It was you. He would still recognize your voice from anywhere. Oh, how he missed you. His eyes were wide and he had nothing to say all of a sudden. You remembered him. You recognized his voice.

You remembered his name.

“Thank you for your report, we lost connection to some of his vitals halfway through. The medics should be there in a few minutes,” you said.

“I'll stand by,” Hoshina said and kept Narumi's earpiece in his ear. He had nothing he wanted to tell you, not one thing in mind, but he wanted to be on the line with you— even in silence. The medics came in a few minutes like you had told him and took care of Narumi right away.

“They got here, he should be fine now,” Hoshina said, as if you didn't already know. He just wanted something to say to you.

“I missed working with you,” you said and he couldn't believe his ears. Perhaps he'd wake up from this dream again. Perhaps he'd open his eyes and be utterly disappointed again. But he knew there wasn't even a hint of romantic affection in your words, just the respect you've always had for the work he did, and how you missed doing this job with him. And he did too.

“Yeah, I did too,” he said. “I still do.”

You chuckled a little and he could still picture you smiling. “That made my entire year,” you said. “Probably not the time for this, but we should catch up sometime. If you don't mind, of course.”

Made your year. What did you mean by that? And If he didn't mind? Oh, you didn't know how many times he's dreamed of this day.

“I'd love to,” he said. While he was a little embarrassed to imagine the rest of the first-division team hearing this conversation, that was not going to stop him. He'd be an absolute fool to let this chance go. He has promised himself to give it his all this time.

“Are you seeing anyone?” he asked quietly.

“Sorry?” you asked, hoping he'd repeat that. You heard it, but you were afraid you were so delusional you were starting to hear things. Your heartbeat quickened and you waited patiently, hoping it wasn't all in your head.

“Do you have a lover?” he asked a little more clearly, but obviously still nervous and flustered. You had never seen him like this, ever.

“No,” you replied, a little too quickly. “I do not.”

Relief washed over him and he felt his heartbeat quicken. Oh, thank goodness you didn't have access to his vitals. He was going to make you fall for him somehow.

“…do you?” you asked quietly, after a moment.

“Me?” he asked. “No, I don't.”

“I see,” you said, but he could hear the soft delight in your voice. He would never miss it.

Perhaps he'd just go for it. There was nothing for him to lose at this point, and he had made his feelings plenty obvious already. If you didn't want him, he'd just try again. He's tried countless times in his dreams already, what's a few more?

“But I'd love to be yours,” he said and heard you gasp quietly. That one he couldn't read. Was that a little too bold? Far too sudden?

“Did I hear that right?” he faintly heard you scream, asking your fellow first division coworkers. That made him laugh, you hadn't changed one bit. “I’ve loved you forever, Hoshina.”

There was absolutely no way. He was going to wake up soon, he just knew it. Well, might as well indulge in the dream for now, then.

“I've definitely loved you for longer,” he said.

“Hoshina, I'm going to kill you if this is a dream,” you said, and that caught him off guard. Yet, even that sounded nice to him, and that made him smile. He'd get to see you, at least.

But it wasn't a dream. The way your voice fluttered his heart could never be felt through a dream. The way your laugh filled his soul could not possibly make him feel so warm through a mere dream.

“I cannot wait to see you,” you said softly, your voice so full of love it made him melt.

He couldn't either, but that wasn't exactly what he had on mind this entire time.

“And I cannot wait to kiss you.”

[dovesdreaming]

Beneath the surface

Summary: After nearly knocking her to the floor Alex finally takes notice of the new intern and becomes interested with her despite her quiet nature. (2.8k words)

Requested

Masterlist

-

Seattle Grace was chaotic on a good day, and today was anything but good. The ER was packed, and Alex was already over it, feeling the familiar irritation building in his chest as he stalked through the hospital corridors. He had patients to deal with, charts piling up, and he was pretty sure someone had taken the last cup of coffee in the break room. As he turned the corner, he almost ran straight into someone a figure with a lab coat far too big for her frame, clutching a stack of files like her life depended on it. She stumbled back, her eyes wide with panic. “Watch it!” Alex snapped out of reflex, his mood getting the best of him. But then he actually looked at her.

She was new, he could tell. Probably an intern, though she barely looked like she belonged in a hospital at all. She had soft features and the most nervous expression he’d ever seen. Her hands fidgeted with the files, and she looked like she wanted to disappear into the floor. “I’m so sorry!” she managed to get out, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to-uh, I’m just-I’ll move-“ Alex raised an eyebrow, his annoyance fading into something else. He wasn’t used to seeing people this timid around here. Most of the interns were cocky, desperate to prove themselves. This one? She looked like she’d rather hide in a broom closet than face another minute of hospital chaos.

“What’s your name?” Alex asked, his tone less sharp than usual. “Y/N” she said quickly, blinking up at him. “I just started last week. I’m still figuring things out”. He could tell. She was still clutching the files like they were going to escape, and she wasn’t meeting his gaze for more than a second at a time. Alex was used to being intimidating, but something about her made him dial it back, just a little. “Yeah, well, you might want to figure out where you’re going before you run into people” he said, but the edge in his voice was gone. “What department are you in?” “I’m supposed to be in pediatrics today” she said, glancing down at the files as if they might hold the answer. “But I got lost, and-” “Peds?” Alex interrupted, suddenly interested. “That’s my department. Come on, I’ll show you where it is”.

“Her eyes widened in surprise, and she nodded quickly, scurrying after him as he led the way. Alex wasn’t sure why he’d offered to help, but something about her made him want to keep an eye on her. She looked too fragile, too sweet for a place like Seattle Grace. And for some reason, he didn’t want her to get chewed up by the hospital like so many others.

Over the next few weeks, Y/N kept popping up in Alex’s orbit. She was quiet, always doing her work with a shy determination, never drawing attention to herself. Most of the time, she was shadowing other attendings, but every now and then, Alex would catch her watching him, her eyes wide with curiosity. He couldn’t help but notice the way she treated her patients, especially the kids. She was gentle, kind, always smiling softly as she spoke to them. It was the kind of bedside manner Alex knew he didn’t have, but it was also the kind that worked. The kids loved her, and even the parents seemed to relax when she was around.

One day, after a particularly long surgery, Alex found her in the break room, sitting in a corner with a cup of tea and a medical textbook. She looked up when he walked in, her eyes widening slightly as if she hadn’t expected anyone else to be there. “Hey” Alex said, grabbing a cup of coffee and sitting across from her. He didn’t know why he sat down, but there was something calming about her presence. “How’s it going?” “Oh, um, good” she replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear nervously. “Just, you know… studying”. “Yeah, I can see that”. Alex took a sip of his coffee, eyeing her over the rim of his cup. “You’ve been in peds a lot lately”. She nodded, her cheeks turning pink under his scrutiny. “I like working with the kids. They’re… easier to talk to, I guess”. Alex raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Easier than the attendings?” She let out a soft laugh, the sound like music to his ears. “Sometimes”. For the first time, she seemed to relax a little, her shoulders loosening as they sat in companionable silence. Alex was used to small talk, to people trying to impress him or challenge him, but Y/N didn’t seem to be interested in any of that. She was content to just sit there, sipping her tea and reading her book. It was..nice.

The more Alex saw of Y/N, the more he found himself drawn to her. There was something about the way she moved through the hospital, quietly competent but never cocky, that intrigued him. She was nothing like the people he usually gravitated toward, but maybe that was exactly why he couldn’t get her out of his head. One afternoon, after a particularly tough case involving a young girl with a chronic illness, Alex found Y/N sitting by the window in the peds ward. The sunlight streamed through the glass, casting a soft glow on her as she stared out at the city below. “Hey” Alex said, walking over and leaning against the wall beside her. “You alright?” She looked up at him, her eyes filled with an emotion he couldn’t quite place. “It’s just… hard sometimes, you know?” Alex knew exactly what she meant. Pediatrics could be brutal. You got attached to the kids, and sometimes, no matter what you did, it wasn’t enough.

“Yeah” he said quietly, his voice softer than usual. “It is”. They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of the day pressing down on both of them. Alex wasn’t used to talking about this stuff, he usually kept his walls up, kept his emotions locked away. But something about Y/N made him feel like he didn’t have to. Like she wouldn’t judge him for having a bad day, for caring too much.

“I don’t know how you do it” Y/N said after a while, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re so strong. I feel like I’m always on the verge of falling apart”. Alex glanced at her, surprised by the raw honesty in her voice. “You’re stronger than you think” he said, his tone firm. “You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t”. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and vulnerable. For a moment, Alex thought she might cry, but instead, she smiled a soft, shy smile that made his heart skip a beat “Thanks” she whispered, and Alex felt something inside him shift.

It wasn’t long before everyone in the hospital started noticing the change in Alex. He was still his usual sarcastic, tough self, but there was a new softness to him, a gentleness that hadn’t been there before. And it didn’t take long for people to figure out why. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with the new intern” Meredith remarked one afternoon, her voice teasing as she leaned against the nurses’ station. “Something you want to share?” Alex shot her a look, but there was no heat behind it. “She’s just..different”. “Different, huh?” Meredith smirked. “Alex Karev has a crush on the sweet, shy intern. Who would’ve thought?”He rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t deny it. Y/N was different, and the more time he spent with her, the more he realized just how much she meant to him. It wasn’t just that she was sweet, or shy, or that she had a way with the kids. It was the way she saw the world, quietly, thoughtfully, with a kindness that Alex had never really experienced before. She made him feel like he didn’t have to be the tough guy all the time, like it was okay to just be… himself.And that was something Alex hadn’t felt in a long time.

One evening, after a long shift, Alex found Y/N sitting outside the hospital, her face tilted up toward the fading sunlight. He sat down beside her, their shoulders brushing as they watched the sky change from orange to pink. “Long day?” he asked, his voice low. “Yeah” she replied softly. “But it’s getting better”. They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the world fading away as the sun dipped below the horizon. For once, Alex didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with words. Being with Y/N was enough. And as he sat there, feeling her warmth beside him, Alex realized something: he didn’t want to keep her at arm’s length anymore.

“Y/N” he said quietly, turning to look at her. “I like spending time with you”. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise. “You do?” Alex nodded, feeling a little unsteady, but he was never one to shy away from saying what he meant. “Yeah, I do. You’re… different from anyone I’ve met before. In a good way”.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed pink, and she glanced down, her fingers playing nervously with the hem of her scrub top. “I… I like spending time with you too” she admitted, her voice soft but sincere. “I didn’t think you’d even notice me, honestly”. Alex frowned, confused by her words. “Why wouldn’t I notice you?” She shrugged, still not looking up. “I’m not exactly… outgoing or confident. I just figured someone like you wouldn’t-well, wouldn’t be interested in someone like me”. Alex shifted closer, leaning in so that their knees were almost touching. “What do you mean, ‘someone like me’? You’re a great doctor, and you’re good with the kids. Who cares if you’re not loud or whatever?”

Y/N finally looked up, her eyes searching his. “It’s just… you’re so confident, Alex. You’re tough. I’m nothing like that”. Alex let out a small laugh, but there was no mockery in it, just a hint of disbelief. “You think I’m confident? Half the time, I’m just winging it, same as everyone else”. Her eyes softened, like she was seeing him in a new light. “But you don’t seem like it. You always look like you have everything under control”.

“Yeah, well, that’s just a mask” Alex said, his voice lowering as he leaned back against the bench. “I didn’t grow up with a lot of control, so I learned how to fake it. Doesn’t mean I don’t have my own doubts”. Y/N seemed to process that for a moment, her brow furrowing in thought. “I didn’t know…” Alex shrugged, not wanting to get too deep into his past, but he didn’t mind sharing a little with her. “Everyone’s got stuff they don’t talk about. But you-” he paused, glancing at her with a small smile, “-you don’t need to pretend to be anything you’re not. You’re perfect just the way you are”.

Y/N smiled, shy but more sure of herself now. “I don’t think anyone’s ever told me that before”. “Well, they should have” Alex said, his voice firm. “You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. I like you, Y/N. And I mean like you. I just… wasn’t sure how to tell you”. Y/N blinked, and for a moment, Alex wondered if he’d gone too far, if he’d made her uncomfortable. But then her face lit up with a shy, beautiful smile, the kind that made something inside him soften. “I like you too, Alex” she whispered, her voice barely audible but carrying enough weight to make his heart race. “I just didn’t think you’d feel the same”. Alex let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Well, now you know”. For a moment, they just sat there, looking at each other. There was something easy about it, something that made Alex feel like he didn’t have to put up his usual walls. He didn’t need to act tough or pretend he didn’t care. Y/N saw through all of that, and she liked him anyway. He didn’t know why, but he wasn’t going to question it. “So” Y/N said after a while, her voice hesitant but hopeful, “what happens now?” Alex chuckled softly, his usual cockiness slipping back in, but this time it was gentler, more genuine. “Well, now that we’ve got the awkward confessions out of the way, I’m thinking we could, you know… see where this goes”. She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’d like that”.

After that night, things shifted between them. It wasn’t sudden or dramatic, Alex wasn’t the kind of guy who’d show up with grand gestures or make big, romantic speeches. But he was there, in the little moments. He’d walk with her between rounds, steal moments in the break room, and sometimes, when they were alone, he’d brush a hand across her back in a way that sent a shiver down her spine. At first, it was subtle enough that no one seemed to notice, but it wasn’t long before people started talking. Meredith gave Alex a knowing look when she saw him lingering around Y/N a little longer than necessary, and even Cristina, who usually didn’t care about anyone’s personal life, raised an eyebrow when she saw them leaving the hospital together one evening.

“You two?” she’d said flatly, gesturing between them. Alex rolled his eyes. “Yeah, so what?” Cristina shrugged, clearly uninterested. “Nothing. Just didn’t think you’d go for someone so… sweet”. Y/N blushed, and Alex glared at Cristina, but there was no real malice in it. “Yeah, well, not everyone’s a robot like you”. Cristina smirked and walked away without another word, but Alex could see the way Y/N’s cheeks were still flushed from embarrassment. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Ignore her. She doesn’t get it”. Y/N smiled up at him, her nervousness fading. “I think I’m starting to”.

As their relationship deepened, Alex found himself letting Y/N into parts of his life he usually kept locked away. He didn’t open up easily, but with her, it felt different. She didn’t push, didn’t demand more than he was willing to give. She just… understood. And somehow, that made it easier to be around her. They spent late nights together, either in the hospital or grabbing takeout when they both had time off. Alex would tease her when she got flustered, and she’d laugh in that quiet way of hers that made him want to hear it again and again. The thing that surprised Alex the most, though, was how much she challenged him. For all her shyness, Y/N wasn’t afraid to stand her ground when it came to her patients. He saw a fierceness in her when she thought someone wasn’t getting the care they deserved, and that fire was something Alex admired.

“You’re not as shy as people think you are” he told her one evening, as they sat on the couch in his apartment, her head resting on his shoulder. She smiled softly, her fingers tracing patterns on his hand. “I guess I’m not. You make me feel..more confident”. Alex smirked, squeezing her hand. “Good. Because you’re pretty damn amazing when you show it”. Y/N blushed, and Alex leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

Eventually, word got out about them. It was bound to happen in a hospital like Seattle Grace. But to Alex’s surprise, he didn’t care. He usually hated being the center of gossip, but when it came to Y/N, he wasn’t interested in hiding. One afternoon, they were walking out of the hospital together, and Alex could feel the eyes of a few nurses on them. He glanced down at Y/N, noticing the way she fidgeted slightly under the scrutiny. “You okay?” he asked, slowing his pace. Y/N nodded, though her expression was still shy. “Yeah, it’s just… people are staring”. Alex stopped walking, turning to face her. “Let them. I don’t care what they think. I’m with you”. Her eyes widened slightly at his words, but then she smiled a bright, genuine smile that made Alex’s heart skip a beat. “I’m with you too”. And that was all that mattered.

As the weeks turned into months, Alex found himself falling deeper for Y/N. She wasn’t like anyone he’d ever been with before, and that scared him a little. But it also made him feel something he hadn’t felt in a long time, hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, he could have something good. Something real. And as they stood there, hand in hand outside Seattle Grace, Alex realized that for once, he wasn’t afraid of letting someone in. Because with Y/N, it didn’t feel like a risk. It felt like coming home.

[bg3daydream]

Gingerwort truffle tea (Lucanis x Rook fanfiction)

Lucanis x Female Rook one-shot.

Summary: Lucanis can't help but feel jealous when Davrin takes Rook out for a picnic. He's not expecting Rook to come back high on an odd tea. Fluff and mutual pining but specially Lucanis, who's wrestling with his feelings and with Spite.

Lucanis pretended not to pay attention while Davrin and Rook got everything ready for their picnic in Arlathan. He’d learned about his plans when Davrin had come into the pantry to get some food for it, and Lucanis had been in a sour mood since then.

He had no reason or right to be upset and angry, but he couldn’t be logical about it. He was jealous, he knew it and he could admit it, but he also knew he had no right to feel that way. Rook wasn’t his partner. Sure, there’d been some flirting, he’d thought she might be interested in him, but they weren’t in a relationship.

And whose fault was that?

He’d cut short all of her attempts to get closer to him. Maybe he’d made her think he was not interested in her that way. Far from the truth, but it was for the best. He had too much going on and so did Rook, she had enough to deal with without adding the hazard that was Lucanis now. 

He had nothing to offer her, nothing but trouble, death and darkness.

He was an abomination and the shame of it burned bright. He had a demon inside him, that he couldn’t control, what if Spite took control of him when he was with Rook. The demon seemed to like Rook, oddly enough, to trust her even, or at least he was usually more at ease when she was around, but Lucanis didn’t want to risk it.

Spite was now far from calm, he too seemed upset at seeing Rook and Davrin. The shimmering anger of the demon was growing and growing to the point that Lucanis had to walk away, afraid that the Spite would take control over him.

“Rook. Is. Ours,” Spite yelled inside his head as he made his way back to the pantry, and Lucanis was glad to have walked away, in case Spite might have made him say something like that in front of Rook.

“She isn’t,” he replied to the upset demon.

And whose fault was that. 

That was his own voice and thought, not Spite’s. 

“She’s her own person and she can go out with whoever she wants, she has more friends.”

That wouldn’t change even if they were romantically involved, but still, Lucanis couldn’t shake the feeling that Davrin might think of the picnic as some sort of date, not a friendly hangout. 

Spite brisked at the thought…how could a demon be jealous? Maybe it wasn’t jealousy but something else, some odd demon ownership thing, or maybe the demon was just picking up on Lucanis’ feelings. Whatever it was, it was annoying and hard to control.

Lucanis set on making a big pot of coffee. The last thing he wanted was to deal with Spite’s upset emotions, on top of his own, with their barely controlled anger and stupid jealousy. At least he could try to drown Spite’s voice in his head and his own feelings with black coffee.

As time passed, Lucanis tried not to think about what Rook and Davrin might be doing on their perhaps-date. He drank coffee. Exercised and trained. Cleaned his gear. Drank more coffee.

He couldn’t even blame Davrin for setting up a date with Rook, if that’s what it was. She was brave, smart, courageous, kind… of course Davrin would want to date her. What was a wonder was why Rook’d seemed to be interested in Lucanis instead, but perhaps he’d ruined it.

He couldn’t blame Rook for maybe turning to Davrin now, for being interested in him. Lucanis had his differences and problems with him, but he could admit the warden was brave, charming, and attractive, like a damn romance novel character. No, he couldn’t blame Rook if she wanted Davrin instead.

His wings popped out, eyes flashing purple, at his and Spite’s combined and badly controlled jealousy. Lucanis rushed to make more coffee.

*

Later, Lucanis was pacing the hall of the Lighthouse's main building, a cup of black coffee in his hand, lying to himself saying he was not waiting to see if Davrin and Rook walked up from the Eluvian room.

Eventually, he heard their steps walking up the stairs, followed by Assan’s squeaks and Rook’s laughter. He usually loved that sound but it now sent a pang of dread to his belly. So, she’d enjoyed the maybe date…of course she had.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

Davrin’s words turned the dread into angry jealousy. He had no right to be jealous and yet… Lucanis turned around to leave, trying to ignore the sight he caught of Davrin walking with his arm around a grinning Rook.

“Something. Is. Wrong,” Spite said in his head. “She smells…Funny.”

“Shut up.” Lucanis had no wish to hear how Rook smelt or if she might smell like Davrin.

“Hey, Lucanis, wait,” Davrin called after him when he opened the door, but Lucanis was decided to ignore him. “You know about poisons, right?” The odd question combined with Spite saying something was wrong made Lucanis stop and turn around to face them. “I might need you with Rook.”

Alarm bells began sounding in Lucanis’ mind, drowning even Spite’s agitation, as he rushed to them, looking at Rook. She was staring intently at Assan, before turning to grin at Lucanis with bright eyes…eyes too bright. She seemed unharmed, but also, Spite was right, something was off with her.

“She was poisoned?!” 

“I don’t think so?” Rook answered and…yes, something was off.

“She was not.” Davrin alternated between looking at Rook and Lucanis. “But I made gingerwort truffle tea with Emmrich’s recipe and I think it didn't sit well with Rook.”

Rook herself just booped Assan and giggled.

“You drugged her with mushroom tea?!” Lucanis snapped. He knew his reaction was ungranted, he knew Davrin would never do that, yet he couldn’t help it.

“I didn’t.” Davrin rolled his eyes, unimpressed by his reaction and his purple flashing eyes. “It’s just tea, an old recipe. Emmrich said it might have some magical properties…but I think Rook’s just high.” 

Davring had the gall to chuckle as he looked at Rook, and Lucanis felt more aggravated by it.

“I’m not high!” Rook protested. “I just can understand Assan’s language now, I don’t know why you can’t, you had the tea too.”

Davrin chuckled again while Lucanis looked at Rook, trying to wrap his head around what was going on, while trying to ignore and turn down Spite’s onslaught of questions regarding Rook, the tea, and if Lucanis could drink it too.

“Yeah? What’s Assan saying now?” Davrin asked.

“Nothing, but you just wait. Assan. Assan.” Rook called his name until Assan squawked and then she gasped. “See!” 

Davrin snorted and Lucanis glared at him, but at least Rook didn’t seem hurt or in danger.

“She’s high, not poisoned. Your fault, by the way,” Lucanis accused him. “What do you want of me?”

“I don’t know, some kind of crow remedy?” Davrin shrugged at Lucanis glaring. “I think she just needs to sleep it off.”

“Possibly,” Lucanis replied icily.

“Hear that, Rook, the poisoner crow agrees,” Davrin said as he turned to Rook, and Lucans tried to control his and Spite’s wish to stab him. Poison wasn’t even his specialty. Stabbing, though… “Why don’t you go get a nap?”

“Can I take Assan?” Rook answered.

“Sure, if he wants to.”

“Assan, come on!”

Rook walked upstairs and to her room, slightly uncoordinated, with Assan at her heels.

“You got her high,” Lucanis huffed when the door of Rook’s room closed.

“I didn’t plan to.” Davrin rolled his eyes. “It was just gingerwort tea, it’s safe, but Rook seems to be sensitive to it.”

“Who would even want to drink tea,” Lucanis retorted. He knew he was being silly yet he couldn’t help it.

“Me. And Rook. She likes tea, she told me so when we were drinking it,” Davrin said. “But she has mostly coffee because that’s what you make all the time.”

“Oh…”

So, Rook liked tea and he didn’t know it. He’d prided himself on knowing Rook’s favorite drink. He’d thought she enjoyed coffee too. Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe she’d just been drinking it for his sake…

“Man, stop with the puppy eyes, it’s just coffee, you’re too attached to it.” Davrin laughed and Lucanis’ allegedly puppy-eyes turned purple and murderous as he glared at him, but Davrin seemed unimpressed. “Rook likes coffee too. Especially if you make it, she says it’s better then.”

“Rook…told you that?” Lucanis asked quietly, looking down.

“Yeah. She can’t shut up about you for more than an hour.” Davrin chuckled, but Lucanis thought he’d sounded just ever so slightly annoyed. 

Lucanis couldn’t blame him. If he planned a date with Rook and she would spend it talking about Davrin, he knew he’d be annoyed. Still, he couldn’t help how pleased he felt at Davrin’s words. When he looked at Davrin, though, he was smirking.

“I think it’s bullshit, though, I don’t think your coffee is anything special,” Davrin teased.

“Oh? Have Neve’s coffee and then come tell me,” Lucanis joked back.

“No, thanks.” Davrin chuckled. “I’m going to tell Emmrich about the tea, just in case.”

Lucanis nodded. “I’ll check on Rook.”

*

Lucanis walked into Rook’s room, carrying a tall glass of water, and he was greeted by the big, odd aquarium. It made him feel uneasy, reminded him of the Ossuary, and he tried to ignore it, looking at the couch. Rook sat down there, holding Assan’s head gently as she looked intently into the griffon’s eyes.

“Rook, are you alright?”

“I wish he said something besides worms,” Rook sighed longingly, letting go of Assan’s head.

“Here, drink this.” Lucanis handed her the glass of water.

“Not coffee?” Rook asked, and Lucanis felt a pleasant warmth as he remembered Davrin saying Rook liked the coffee more if Lucanis made it.

“Later. Now drink that.”

Rook nodded, drinking the water.

“The tea made me understand Assan…do you think it made me understand Manfred and Spite too?!” Rook looked at him wide-eyed and if Lucanis hadn’t been as worried as he was, he’d have snorted. She really was high, more than he’d thought at first.

“Rook. You already understand Spite,” he told her calmly. “You have spoken with him.”

“Oh…right…I can understand him.” Rook nodded. “Right, Spite?” 

Before Lucanis knew what was happening, Rook had reached to hold his head like she’d been doing with Assan, looking into his eyes, and Lucanis felt his cheeks burning. He tried controlling how his heart picked up, the odd twirling in his belly, a wave of feelings that allowed Spite to wrest control over him.

“Lucanis. Never. Lets me. Speak!”

“Lucanis…that’s not very nice,” Rook chastised and Lucanis huffed, trying to push Spite back. “Let him speak sometimes.”

“I let him speak enough.”

“You. Don’t!” Spite’s took control again, out of…spite, probably. “Rook. Smells like…Assan.”

“See, this is what happens when he speaks,” Lucanis said, mortified, but Rook seemed amused.

She was still holding his head, her hands gentle on his warm cheeks, and she looked at him intently. Lucanis swallowed hard, feeling his mouth going dry at the way she was looking at him, at how close she was.

You. Want that. Again. Spite’s annoyed voice said in his head. Lucanis didn’t need to ask what he was talking about, he knew what he was feeling, not for the first time or the second…

He wanted to kiss Rook. And she was so close, he’d barely need to lean in to kiss her…he wanted to. But she was high, it wasn’t right, not to mention the demon kicking in his head, Rook didn’t need that burden…

“Lucanis…” Rook called his name quietly.

“Yes?” He could barely whisper it.

“What if Spite possessed Manfred?”

Lucanis blinked at Rook, too stunned to talk for a second. “What?”

“Would they take turns controlling the skeleton?”

Spite took control of Lucanis to speak before he could. “Curiosity. Has. Hands! I want. That!”

“You deserve hands!” Rook agreed, letting go of Lucanis’s head…she really was way higher than either he or Davrin had thought.

“He doesn’t,” Lucanis said, trying to wrestle down Spite. “Don’t encourage him, Rook.” She just giggled. “We have enough hands already.” And he had enough with Spite trying to control his.

“Then you wouldn’t have to share…I’m trying to be helpful for both of you,” Rook sighed dramatically.

“I know,” Lucanis conceded. He couldn’t help half a smile at her. “I let him stab enemies with my hands sometimes.” Not. Enough. Spite complained in his head but Lucanis ignored him. “Why don’t you take a nap? Come on, now that you still have time.”

“Alright…” Rook agreed and Lucanis was glad he didn’t have to try to convince her. “I’m not tired but I have a headache,” she sighed as she lay down on the couch and Lucanis had to fight the urge to caress her hair. “Assan, come.”

Rook patted the couch and grinned when Assan jumped onto it, and, at Rook’s grabby hands, the griffon lay down almost on top of her, curling up with Rook. “Oof, you’re heavy for a baby,” Rook said as she wiggled, but despite her words, she held Assan to her, looking quite happy to snuggle with him.

Another half-smile tugged at Lucanis mouth as he looked at them. The sight stirred some feelings, warmth, fondness…longing?

You. Want. That? Spite’s voice asked in his head, sounding puzzled and confused. Like. Assan?

“Shut up,” Lucanis muttered.

Did he want that? To lie down there with Rook like Assan, in her arms? Of course. But he didn’t want Spite catching on it, asking about it, or making his wishes and thoughts worse.

“What?” Rook asked, already sounding drowsy.

“Nothing. Get some sleep, Rook.”

Lucanis walked away before his and Spite’s combined thoughts could get out of hand.

*

A couple of hours later, Lucanis was in the pantry when he heard someone fumbling in the kitchen, and he walked out to find Rook there, holding a piece of hard cheese. He’d gotten that one for grating it but she seemed about to eat it just like that.

“Hey,” Rook greeted, seeming a bit awkward. “I was hungry but I didn’t feel like cooking.”

“I’ll cook you something,” Lucanis offered, heading to the kitchen space.

“You don’t have to…”

“I don’t mind.” Lucanis shrugged. He liked to cook and he liked it even more if it was for Rook.

“It’s fine, I think there are leftovers from the picnic.” Rook nodded towards a basket. “We barely got to eat before I…” She sighed and shook her head. “I’m sorry you saw me like that before.”

“It’s okay, Rook,” Lucanis told her softly, trying to be comforting.

“I mean, I’m sorry for myself, it’s embarrassing to know that both you and Davrin saw me like that…” She shook her head, seeming mortified. “At least nobody else did.”

“It wasn’t your fault, it was the tea,” Lucanis reassured her, grimacing at the thought of the drink. It was Davrin’s fault for feeding it to her, but he didn’t say it aloud, he didn’t think Rook’d agree.

“A tea that also Davrin and Emmrich had and nothing happened to them,” Rook remarked and Lucanis tried to ignore Spite’s voice asking him repeatedly to try the tea himself and see what happened.

“It’s not your fault that you’re sensitive to it,” Lucanis tried to reason, he didn’t like to see Rook chastising herself like that.

Rook just shrugged with a non-committal humm and Lucanis watched as she took a sandwich from the picnic basket. He decided he’d cook something anyway, he didn’t trust Davrin’s cooking. Frittata with the grating cheese that Rook’d been about to eat.

As he began to get everything ready, it seemed Rook was going to say something, maybe to tell him again that he didn’t have to, but she didn’t, she just smiled softly and looked at him cooking in silence for a little bit.

“That smells so good,” she said as the frittata cooked and Lucanis couldn’t help how pleased it made him feel. It was a simple dish, truly, only eggs, cheese, and some vegetables mixed together, but he thought it was good nonetheless.

When the frittata was finished, Lucanis served it on a plate and handed it to Rook along with a glass of water. With a thanks, Rook took it and instead of going to the dining table, she sat down on the sofa around the small coffee table.

Rook looked at him as if wondering if he’d join her, and so Lucanis poured himself a cup of coffee and went to sit with her, not next to her on the couch but on the armchair near it. He noticed Rook eyeing his coffee while she sipped her water.

“I can make you a tea,” Lucanis offered, even if his nose scrunched in disgust at the thought of such a beverage, and he wasn’t even sure he could brew it properly, but Davrin had said Rook liked tea so at least he could try.

“I…I think I’ve had enough tea for a while…” Rook grimaced. “Besides, I love your coffee, it’s really good.”

A warm, pleased feeling spread through Lucanis at that, while a smile tugged at his lips. Davrin’d already told him Rook enjoyed his coffee more, but it was not the same than hearing her saying that she loved it.

Rook cut into the still steaming frittata and brought a piece to her mouth, closing her eyes with a delighted hmm, making something stir in Lucanis belly at it. “This is so good, really.”  That warm, pleasant feeling grew even more.

Rook didn’t say anything else, just enjoyed the frittata, and Lucanis watched her enjoying the food in silence. Lucanis had rarely cooked for anyone besides himself, and he liked cooking for his friends at the Lighthouse and having them enjoy the food, but when it was Rook, it felt even better.

Once Rook finished her frittata, Lucanis already had a cup of coffee ready for her.

“What would we do without you, Lucanis, you spoil us,” she half-teased, smiling as he nursed the cup in her hands.

“I saw how you all ate before hiring me,” Lucanis tried to joke, trying to control the wave of feelings as Rook kept complimenting him. “You needed a cook, not an assassin.”

“And we were so lucky we got both,” Rook chuckled.

She lifted her legs onto the couch and leaned on the armrest closer to Lucanis, and he fought the impulse urging him to lean closer too, to touch her, maybe stroke her hair. For a moment, they both sipped their coffee in silence.

“I think maybe I should get ready another picnic with Davrin, one in which I don’t get…indispose…” Rook commented after a little while.

Lucanis’ warm, content and pleasant feelings were gone, replaced by hot jealousy at hearing Rook speaking about arranging a date with Davrin. He grimaced as he tried to control Spite’s onslaught of upset feelings as the demon caught Lucanis’ own emotions and what seemed to also be his own kind of feelings regarding Rook. 

“Rook, I told you, it’s not your fault you’re sensitive to the tea…” Lucanis tried to keep his voice calm and even when he spoke. “It’s Davrin’s fault for bringing an unchecked recipe to a date,” he scoffed.

Rook looked at him wide-eyed. “A date? Do you think Davrin thought of that as a date?”

“I…don’t know…” Had he assumed things? He’d been pretty sure Davrin wanted a date with Rook. He tried to hide how upset he was at the idea “I thought so…”

“Oh…” Rook sighed, seeming worried. “Oh, I hope not…I just thought we were going to hang out in the forest, decompress, play with Assan…not a date, date.”

Lucanis didn’t know what to think of Rook’s words, there were too many emotions shimmering inside him, both his and Spite’s, and luckily Rook just kept talking without expecting him to say anything else.

“I mean, Davrin’s great and I really like him,” she began and Lucanis had to wrestle Spite down when he tried to take control of him. “Everyone’d be lucky to date him, but…turns out I don’t want to…”

Lucanis knew he shouldn’t smile at those words, but he couldn’t help how pleased he felt. What mattered if Rook didn’t want to date Davrin, though? It wasn’t like Lucanis could date her…he wanted to, he’d not lie to himself saying he didn’t, but he knew what a bad idea it was, how unfair it’d be for Rook, to get dragged into his mess, tangled with someone who could barely offer anything but death and trouble.

“It’d have been a nice date, though, a picnic in the beautiful woods,” Rook kept going, as if Lucanis didn’t have enough thoughts and feelings fighting inside him already. “But I think my perfect date would be different, I think maybe going to someone’s favorite café in his beautiful city.”

Rook wasn’t looking at him as she spoke, her eyes were on her coffee mug, and Lucanis was glad for it because, even though he tried to keep his expression neutral, he wasn’t sure he was succeeding. His heart had picked up his pace and some twirls were dancing in his belly.

He knew Rook was talking about when he’d taken her to Café Pietra. It’d been nice, even if it’d been for crow business, Lucanis had enjoyed being able to go back to his favorite café, and he’d been pleased to take Rook with him. It hadn’t been a date, yet he’d caught himself wishing it’d been, wondering about perhaps having a real one there, with Rook.

He’d tried to stop those thoughts and wishes but there he was anyway, they had just grown stronger as he spent more time with Rook.

“But I know that wouldn’t be everyone’s kind of date…” Rook said at his silence, moving back from the armrest and sitting straighter, perhaps taking his silence for rejection.

Lucanis knew he shouldn’t entertain his feelings or Rook’s and yet…he couldn’t help it… “It’d be my perfect date too,” he said quietly.

Rook looked at him with a smile that sent dancing twirls to Lucanis’ stomach again, before she looked back at her coffee, taking a sip, as if shyly trying to hide her growing smile.

“I think…” Lucanis began even if he didn’t really know what he thought anymore. “Once I’ve fixed everything, I’d like to go to Café Pietra again.” 

For fixing everything, he didn’t mean only saving the world and stopping the gods, as if that were a small task already, but also taking care of the crow’s businesses and loose ends, and especially, fixing whatever was going on with and Spite, if that was even something he could fix. He didn’t want to put Rook in danger, and it felt like that was all he could offer her at that moment…she deserved something more, something better, but Lucanis couldn’t stop his feelings.

“I’d like it if you wanted to come,” he finished, his voice low and husky.

“I’d love to.” Rook gave him another of those smiles that had Lucanis’ heart dancing.

“It’ll take me a while to fix everything.” That if it was even possible…Lucanis felt pessimistic about it yet whenever he looked at Rook, he couldn’t help but feel something close to hope.

“That’s alright, Café Pietra will still be there,” Rook said nonchalantly. “And so will I.” Her tone was softer now yet reassuring, just like her smile, and Lucanis couldn’t help his own.

This was a bad idea, probably, but the twirls in his belly and the beating of his heart didn’t seem to care. In moments like that, Lucanis had to wonder if Rook was real, or if maybe he had finally break in the Ossuary prison and he was making her and everything else up in his mind.

Lucanis didn’t know what to say, he was feeling overwhelmed by everything, by all his emotions, but Rook didn’t seem to mind his silence.

Slowly, she placed her open hand on the armrest, palm up. An invitation.

Lucanis looked at it for just a moment, before bringing his hand to hers. Rook gave him another of those warm smiles that had his heart dancing, and she closed her hand around his, intertwining their fingers.

Her touch was soft, comforting, grounding…safe, even.

She was real, she was there for him, and she was willing to wait until he could offer her something more than what he could then, something better.

It wouldn’t be easy, there was much to do, but with Rook at his side, her and on his, Lucanis felt more hopeful than he’d ever felt.

*

NA:

Both me and my Rook have fallen in love with this gentle, caring assassin and we want to hold him and protect him, but sometimes Rook needs to be taken care of too.

I think I want to write more for them.

If you liked the fic, please let me know in a comment, and as always, reblogs are more than welcome.

Excuse my English, it’s not my first language.

[im-so-normal-iswear]

Hiii, could I request like the ‘06 gang (Sonic, Shadow, Silver) x reader (platonic or romantic is fine) that’s scared of vaccines/shots since I have to get ones soon and I like shake just thinking about it (I’m really sensitive (idk why) and my arm always hurts way longer than other people’s for some reason)

GRAHH SORRY FOR RANTING I LIKE NEVER EVER DO REQUESTS SO I’M REALLY NERVOUS ANYWAYS THANK YOU SO MUCH IF YOU DO THIS OR NOT‼️‼️‼️

A/n: dw lol, ur not rambling

Triple S x reader scared of shots

Sonic:

Sonic’s the first to notice your nervousness as you anxiously tap your foot. He gets it, sitting still isn’t his thing either, so having to go through something uncomfortable? No thanks! But he’s not about to let you do this alone.

Sonic want to make sure that you aren't just suffering the whole time, so he tried to keep things light hearted. Making jokes, random distractions, etc to get your mind off the shots. Maybe making you do trivia of him

He’s tossing questions at you like, "What’s my favorite food? Wrong! It’s a chili dog AND cola! Gotcha"

When you reach the clinic, Sonic sees how tense you are, so he offers his hand with a smirk. "It's fine, you can hold on if you need to!" He’s playful about it, but his hand is warm, steady, and there for you to grip onto if you need. He’s always right there, "You got this! Think of it as just a tiny pinch!"

Once it’s over, Sonic doesn’t let you dwell on the soreness. Instead, he’s already planning a day full of fun things. "Hey, I know the perfect way to forget about that shot, let’s go grab some food or go to an arcade!"

He’s all about making sure you end the day on a high note, reassuring you every time you wince. He’ll even make you laugh by pretending his arm hurts too, just to keep your spirits up.

Shadow:

Shadow is the quiet support type. He notices how your usual energy fades the moment you realize you need to get a shot, and he can see the worry in your eyes even if you try to hide it. He may not say much, but he’s not about to let you go through this without his support.

Shadow isn’t big on comforting words, but he has a way of grounding you when you’re feeling anxious. He’ll place a steady hand on your shoulder, looking you in the eyes. "You’re stronger than this. You’ve faced worse." A bit of a tough love guy.

He knows you’re sensitive and that your arm tends to ache more than others afterward. So, he might take some to reassure you that when you get the shot, it'll be okay, and it won't be as harsh as other injuries you've attained.

When it’s over, Shadow stays by your side, silently making sure you’re okay. He’ll help you find a comfortable way to hold your arm, reminding you to relax the muscles around the injection site to ease the soreness. He even surprises you by making tea. If you wince, he might mutter, "hm, humans and your sensitive bodies..." but he'll still massage your arm, it'll probably hurt more than just getting the shot tho tbh-.

Silver

Silver is the most empathetic. He sees how anxious you are about the shot and starts trying to comfort you to the best of his abilities.

He knows fear is a big deal, and he’s very vocal about it. "Hey, it’s okay to be scared!" Silver’s the type to assure you it’s natural to feel nervous, and he offers to be there for you.

Silver tries to create the calmest atmosphere possible. He takes deep breaths with you, even suggesting meditation or some grounding techniques to help soothe you. "Let’s just close our eyes and focus on something peaceful for a minute."

After the shot, Silver feels terrible seeing you in any discomfort, so he’s extra attentive. He’ll offer to massage your arm if you’re okay with it (it's way more gentle than Shadow) or bring you anything to help ease the soreness, will give cuddles to ease the pain.

All 3 of them:

He’s the one to keep you smiling, whether with jokes or challenges to keep your mind busy. He’d bet Silver and Shadow on who can make you laugh the fastest, anything to keep you from focusing on your anxiety.

Shadow’s calm presence is there as a constant reminder that he's there, I mean if he didn't want to be there, he just wouldn't, but he is there. He doesn’t need to say much, but the way he holds your hand or pats your shoulder speaks volumes. He keeps things practical, making sure you know that your strength is what’s helping you through this.

Silver would be the one to say the gentle words that help you accept your fear without feeling judged. If you’re feeling sensitive afterward, he’d be there. "You did amazing. You’re stronger than you think, and you’ve got us all here to take care of you."

A/n: sorry if you expected Archie silver, you’re getting idw

[daenysx]

this is like the summary of my morning- without the boys, sadly. i woke up really bad and writing this helped a lot, i hope you enjoy too! ♡

poly!marauders x fem!reader, mostly fluff - a little hurt/comfort maybe

an almost ruined morning

you wake up angry for no reason this morning.

maybe no reason isn't right; you're stressed because of your final week, mostly thanks to the high pressure you put on yourself and one of your closest friends cancelled your study date for today. you blink your eyes open with slight panic, irritation makes your stomach achy. there's also a headache that starts forming, a nice ribbon on top of your package of stress.

it must be raining out there, you hear the water drops hitting against the window. the boys are nowhere to be seen, they must've woken up earlier than you. you leave the empty bed with glossy eyes, almost tearing up for not waking up early enough to get some school work done. that wasn't what you planned last night.

"there she is." james sees you first. he opens his arms for you. "good morning, pretty girl."

"morning." you mumble, burying your face to his chest. he smells like aftershave and shower gel, slight coffee and a hint of cigarettes which you think he gets from kissing remus. he wraps his arms around you, holding you tight.

"are you okay?" he whispers to your ear. you're sure he gives a look behind you to remus, not understanding what happens.

"i was gonna wake up early to do my readings." you say against his chest.

he strokes your hair, feeling the uneasiness in your voice. "it's still early babe, you can start after breakfast, hmm?"

remus comes next to you, rubbing your back and giving you a kiss on your hair. "i thought you were gonna meet with shelby today for studying."

he came home late last night so he doesn't know you won't be seeing shelby. "she cancelled. said she has something came up." you murmur.

"yeah?" remus raises an eyebrow. "does that mean we get to spend time together?"

you nod into james's chest, discomfort creeps into your hands. shaky hands, pins and needles. you don't know why you're so nervous.

sirius comes into kitchen, hand in his hair to shape his wet curls up. he gives you a huge smile when he sees you. "good morning!" he says brightly. you immediately sense he's in the mood for a happy morning. you wish you could feel the same.

"morning, siri." you say, still leaning to james but your face is turned to the boys.

"what's wrong?" sirius asks. "what's with the pout, angel girl?"

"i don't know." you admit. "i woke up angry and sad, and i wanna study but i can't. i don't know."

you say the last part with a shaky voice and that makes boys frown. you bury yourself back to james's chest, embarrassed and silly, you don't feel like you can deal with this. you're being too extra and you just woke up.

"okay." james says. "it's fine, baby, it's normal. let's go lay on couch a bit, yeah?"

remus gives him an approving look. james leads you into living room, you lay down angrily. he takes the fluffiest blanket to cover your bodies. you can hear sirius drying his hair in the bathroom and remus starts the kettle for tea.

you are more than willing to stay against james, he's big and soft for you. with his muscular arms wrapped around you, you feel safe. hidden from everything, and it's nice. he kisses your forehead, his glasses are on the coffee table. he rubs your back with a huge hand. you breathe shakily, definitely unable to relax.

"sweetheart." he whispers. "we gotta relax a bit, okay?" he puts your head on his chest, right where his heart beats. "can you follow my breathing?"

you try to do as he says. your eyes are closed, your ear is pressed against your lover's heart. it's not so easy to do but you succeed after a long minute. "it's okay." he whispers, kissing your head. "relax, baby."

your head stops pounding after a while, that's good. you hear silent steps into the room, remus comes in with a steaming mug and a full plate. he puts them on the coffee table before coming to your side, his long fingers are gentle on your hair.

"feel any better?" he asks. you nod, looking at him from james's chest. he motions the table with his eyes. "do you want to have some breakfast? i got you your favorite."

"thank you." you say, eyes filled with tears suddenly. remus coos lovingly, he leans in to dry your tears. you can't handle them being so gentle with you, feeling like you ruined their morning. they still take care of you when you're being useless on the couch. "i'm sorry." you say.

"sorry for what?" sirius asks, joining you in the room. "you're too lovely to say sorry for anything, babe, please stop."

you cry for a few minutes, letting it out with gentle encouragements from boys. the stress of everything makes you lightheaded, you don't want to feel like this. you don't want to cry over academics anymore, you want to be a person who can adapt to quick changes when things don't go as planned. your tears wet james's shirt but he doesn't seem to care, his calm eyes following you. you get tired. you feel so tired.

you sit up, done with the crying. you rub your eyes, remus holds your both hands in his one hand as he uses the other one to dry your tears softly. he has a look of understanding on his face, you are grateful for the sentiment.

"can i have some tea?" you ask. sirius hands you the cup quickly, you take a few sips before looking at them. james wants to wipe the look of guilt off your face, he holds your hand.

"i'm sorry." you say. "i don't know what came over me."

"you have nothing to say sorry for." james says. "it's okay if you don't feel well, lovely."

"it's just-" you start. "i can't spend the time i think of doing things by actually doing them and- it stresses me out. like i'm always competing against time."

you take another sip from your tea. saying what upsets you out loud is a nice feeling, knowing they'll never judge you. they actually listen and understand, they will stay with you no matter what.

"you have 10 days until the finals, right?" remus asks.

you nod. "but i have to finish a paper before that."

"but still it means you have time." remus comes, sits on the empty spot on the couch. he cups your cheeks, his heart breaks at the sight of your tired eyes. "i think- we can spend today by resting and helping you get some sleep. you brain can't function properly if you don't take care of yourself, dove."

you nod. "okay."

"okay." he kisses your forehead. "good."

you finish your tea, and take a bite of the breakfast remus prepared for you. you don't feel like eating much but still force yourself to eat some of it. remus takes your empty cup to kitchen and james leaves to open the window in the bedroom now that the rain has stopped. fresh air will be nice.

"don't worry please." you say softly to sirius. he looks upset, nothing like his sparkly mood before. "i'm sorry i made you sad."

he can't resist it, takes you into his arms. you are more than happy to follow him, putting your head on the curve of his shoulder. he keeps you, smiles only a bit. "you have nothing to be sorry for. i just- i hate seeing you cry."

"i know."

"i wanna put a smile on your pretty face." he says, cupping your cheeks. "you're cute with the pout, but i'd prefer a smile."

you smile. a real smile, just what he deserves. you actually show him your teeth, he kisses you. "do you really think i'm cute?" you flirt, trying to get one more kiss from him. his kisses are healing.

"i think you're more than cute." he kisses your nose. "i can prove it."

"are you trying to make her faint, pads?" james asks, coming back to your side.

he might be right because sirius has always had this effect on you. you lose yourself when he kisses you, and it's good. it makes you forget your problems. he makes you feel brave, like you can achieve anything you want. he kisses you once more, your eyes are closed. james admires the sight.

"finally got a smile on her face, do you see that?" sirius says. "don't be jealous, prongs."

"i'm jealous." remus says, sitting on the other side of you. "i want a kiss."

he is teasing more than usual, to cheer you up. you give him a good kiss as he takes you to his lap. james sits on the empty spot you left, playing with sirius's hair. it's definitely how they flirt.

"maybe you should put a smile on my face too, huh?" james says to his boyfriend. "gorgeous."

sirius kisses him, his hand slipping into james's curls. they start talking after, a quiet chat about their games. everything goes back to normal now that you feel better. remus keeps you on his lap, though. you don't think he'll leave you for a while. he likes the reassurance of your wellness, he likes the quiet kisses you press on his neck when you wanna stop thinking. he likes how you play with his fingers.

remus brushes his lips to the side of your head. "better, lovely?"

you nod. it's not a lie, you feel better. sometimes it's good to cry about things, especially when you're treated like this by your boys. you just need some time to settle down, you think. remus's lap is the perfect place to think about things and then forget them, he rubs your back with occasional neck kisses and you fall asleep right there.

♡

(ps; the pics are from pinterest, they don't belong to me)

[astonmartingf]

VOODOO DOLL ; LH44

lewis hamilton x mercedes driver!reader

. . . hamilton is a penchant for opposing teammates, and after the previous one he somehow got stuck with another, but after years of dominance new emotions develop between the two.

amgf i am a sucker for yearning and fluff and this is exactly that, lewis the man that you are... also if the format is different from previous posts it's because i'm testing out formats

death of a bachelor ; masterlist

[2025]

“You called us for this?” Alonso raised his brows looking pitifully at you sharing the same expression as Nico from the left side. You groan in your palms, hiding your face from the two men.

“This is a big deal okay. Why are you invalidating my feelings?” Mumbling under your breath, you reason out hoping for a sliver of understanding. It’s been so long since you bottled your feelings, and as much as you hate to admit it, you might start-

“No one is invalidating your feelings other than yourself amor, otherwise why would you call us to convince you that you actually like-”

“Okay, okay, okay. Shut up will you, it’s like you want the whole world that I like…” You turn around, checking the surroundings. “Lewis.”

Nico pressed his lip into a thin, a short sigh leaving his mouth, “You’re in denial and in love.”

You shot Nico an incredulous look, a scoff escaping your lips, “I am not in love. Alo, tell him.”

The older Spaniard grimaced, shaking his head. “At this point, you may as well be- four years? He’s already moved to Ferrari for God’s sake and you have yet to make a move.”

You groan once more, reminding yourself of the signs and signals you missed or accidentally dropped towards Lewis. “I have made a few moves…” Your voice thinning as you feel two pairs of eyes staring right at you.

“And I’m embarrassed to say that they also flew over Lewis’ head. So no, don’t ask me what I said, or did- just ignore what I said.” You rest your head down on the table, sad and moping.

Nico laughs at you, “Look at the state of you, hung over a boy.”

“He’s not just any boy Nico, gosh you’re acting like you moved on quickly from him- this is Lewis we’re talking about. Heck that was a semi-platonic relationship you had going on there, how am I supposed to cope with actually knowing that I can’t be in a romantic relationship with him?”

A gasp left your lips, hands shaking as your cover over them. Avoiding Nico’s gaze who was still laughing at you, despite your jab at his relationship with Nico and Alonso who took a sip from his cup of tea.

“So you admit it…”

Alonso broke the silence leaving you nodding to yourself.

“I actually- Fuck.”

[2023]

Lewis sits in silence, watching Nico squint his eyes from the other side of the table. “When was this?”

Gulping, Lewis didn’t think this far. He was ranting first, and then eventually spilling in some white lies in between before Nico filled in and connected the dots. He should’ve known Nico would catch on- Lewis is being too obvious. At least that’s what he thinks.

Sighing, Lewis mulled over his thoughts gathering his words before speaking it out into existence. The three words he’s been replaying over his head for the last two years- When did things get complicated?

“Two years ago? I thought about it far longer than I’ll admit. But I’ve recently come into terms with it…” Lewis nods his head, sitting in silence with Nico.

“And what happened? What’s different?”

Smiling to himself at the thought of you, Lewis goes through all the times you’ve managed to tug the tiniest of his heartstrings causing him to malfunction like the current state of their engine. It was pitiful, not just the team, but the state of his heart.

“I don’t even understand… Which makes me even more furious! How could she do that to me? I think about her all the time, she’s not even racing anymore. She’s nowhere near me, yet she’s all I think about, it’s driving me insane. And don’t get me started on whenever she’s actually on the paddock- I see her what? Once a month, I go to the F1 Academy races to get a glimpse of her. I'm such a loser. And her face! How could I not stop by and greet her, she’s always enthusiastic whenever I’m there- Not to toot my own horn, but I’m pretty good company, and we are friends but God I wish she’d take in the signs I’m putting down. I like YN- too much at this point, I can’t believe it. And you! You’re laughing at my misery.”

Lewis raises his head, far too into his thoughts only realizing that Nico has been laughing at him for the past minute. His back flushed into the seat, legs crossed with arms resting on the table.

“At least one of us is enjoying this, because I’m a suffering loser, who can’t get a grip. She’s actually doing things to my mind. I’m acting crazy because of her.”

Nico bursts into laughter, “You’re- you have a lot to say about YN.”

Lewis scoffs, giving his friend a pointed look, “That’s all you have to say? Wow, I miss talking to you, but this- this is a personal attack towards me.”

Shaking his head, Nico wheezes at Lewis, “No, no, no… Think about it- look at you. It’s just funny to me, I remember when you first talked about her. You said, and I quote, “I will never like her as a teammate.” and you also compared her to me. Look at you now. I think it’s funny.”

Lewis shakes his head, disappointed. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget it.”

“No- you’re not taking all that back. Go on- tell me more.”

Lewis raises his brows suspiciously, “What? So you can tease me?”

Nico raises his hands in surrender, “Hey if not me who else would listen to you talk on and on about YN?”

“I know Seb would listen to me without judgment, and maybe Charles…” Lewis lists the few people in and out the grid who are aware about his feelings towards YN.

Nico raises his brows laughing to himself, “Oh Lewis, you truly are living in your own bubble- you’re too good for yourself. Guess how I know what you’ve been talking to Seb about? Right, he calls me to check on you.”

Lewis pales at the realization, how Nico is somehow always available, how he calls on the right time.

“And Charles, who calls Seb, who calls me. Right Lewis, there’s three of us- and you’ll always end up with me if you don’t get your act right.”

lewishamilton

liked by nicorosberg, charles_leclerc, and 21,582,953 others

lewishamilton me when my crush finally noticed me...

view 1,648,592 comments...

user1 EXCUSE NE? WHAT HAPPENED TO HELLO AND HI?

user2 am i seeing this right?

user3 the power of yn

user4 why would you assume it's yn?

user5 i mean who else could get lewis to post like this?

user6 bro got 21 million people watching this confession

nicorosberg this is what you got from our conversation two years ago? embarrassing, even i can do better than this

sebastianvettel5 he's trying, leave him be

charles_leclerc is this what we've been waiting for the last four years? the bar is actually low

user7 what do you mean 4 years?

user8 HELP, they're actually implying that this is for YN

user9 there goes the lewyn fans going crazy it could be anyone 🙄

user10 can't a girl have their fun, jeez leave people alone

user11 it's embarrasing

user12 they're actually eating lewis up with this

nicorosberg this is your plan?

lewishamilton yeah, it's working is it not?

nicorosberg i don't think so man

charles_leclerc is she even on instagram?

lewishamilton ...

sebastianvettel5 for someone who has a crush on this person for the last 4 years i might add this is actually embarrassing behavior

user13 what is happening?

user14 i love this too much what the heck

user15 i know they're grilling him in the messages

user16 another one for the history books 😤✍️🔥🔥🔥

user17 it's blow after blow for hamilton

user18 he's a loser in love actually, does it make you stupid?

lewishamilton i don't care if i look stupid i want her to see this

amgf ahahahahaha the end! uhm... enjoy 👍 this actually had me giggling and shit wtf, maybe it's lewis maybe it's the fluff but /sighs/ the lore i can add to this fic... just you wait 😤

[literaila]

premature death

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you settle into jujutsu high, and then you settle out

warnings: fluff, angst (canon events), satoru is an idiot as per usual, suguru is there.

a/n: open wide, daddy made your favorite

last part | next part

*

second year.

you've never loved dining in, you think, as a menu is pulled from your hands and you try to relax into your seat, looking around. 

you're sitting in the corner, near a wall.

it's been an hour since you finished your mission--with nanami and haibara--and an hour since haibara insisted on all of you meeting the second years for dinner. 

honestly, even if you'd had the energy to argue with him, his face would've broken you eventually. so, you followed your two best friends blindly, stumbling into this restaurant that smells a bit like burnt sugar. 

your body aches from running around, and your head pounds from all of the mental strain it takes to protect both nanami and haibara at once (especially when they're both hellbent on being as reckless as possible at any available moment). you barely give suguru and shoko a 'hello,' as you near the table, and you ignore satoru completely. 

(and the way your body immediately perks up at the sight of him). 

the only reason you've even made it in the restaurant is because haibara let you lean on him the whole way here. someone better be coming to pick you up after this. 

and when they push you into this seat--away from literally everything else--you don't even mind it. it's nice, a sort of protection from the outside world. 

but, of course, none from the one right there. 

satoru is sitting much too close to you. he's wild and animated, boasting about some curse that was no big deal for him, of course, with no consideration for personal space. 

you can feel it when he breathes, when he laughs. his hand is basically on your thigh, and he's almost grabbed your drink on accident three separate times. 

no one else has even commented on this, so you don't say anything. 

it's definitely not because he's pleasantly warm--sickly warm, you think--or because you feel a bit relaxed with him right next to you instead of anyone else. at ease. and it's not because just sitting near satoru creates an automatic reaction within your body, a buzzing, and keeps you from falling asleep on the table. it has nothing to do with any of that. 

you just don't want to make a scene. 

you're staring down at the table, fiddling with a napkin and wondering how many other people have sat here, spilled their drinks, and shared these thoughts, when a hand pokes at your side, and you jump. 

"hey," satoru says, leaning to meet your eyes. his mouth is ridiculously pink, and you can see the tips of his lashes from over his glasses. "you okay there?" 

you push his face away with a hand, grimacing at him. you ignore the twinge in your shoulder, and the hundred other sore muscles in your body. "just fine, thanks." 

satoru leans back, observing you for a moment. everyone else is lost in conversation, so there's no one to save you from his attention. 

"that looks heavy," he says, eventually, with a ton of fake sympathy. and condescension. he's smiling at you, because when isn't he?

"what?" you say, frowning. you look around for a problem, but there isn't one. 

then you meet his eyes again, and you know what he's going to say. 

"your hand," he answers, easily, predictably. "let me hold it for you." 

you slap him away before he can even try. 

"were you genetically engineered in a lab to be annoying?" you ask him, scowling.

"just beautiful." 

you roll your eyes, moving to sip on your tea. when you set it back down, satoru is still staring at you. 

"what?" 

"oh, nothing." 

you frown, hoping that there isn't anything on your face. or that he hasn't realized that you don't want to be here. and then, before he can read any real expression, you smile sweetly at him. "you're popping my bubble, satoru." 

"what bubble?" 

"my personal space bubble," you answer, sharply, pushing at his chest. "move over. you know there's a whole other end of the booth right there?" 

satoru looks to his other side, to the empty spot where he should be sitting, and then back to you with a wince. "you want me to sit next to nanami?" 

you stare at him blankly. "i want you to allow me free will over my limbs." 

"but he scares me." 

"want me to tell him that?" 

satoru sighs, but moves over a single inch. because he's nice. 

"seriously?" 

satoru stares at you, pointing towards the centimeter of both you can see between your bodies like it's a solution to your problem. when you say nothing, he pouts. "what? i like sitting next to you." 

"you can sit there and not attempt to suffocate me," you tell him, shaking your head. you look away and go back to playing with the napkin you stole. "i promise it's possible." 

"where's the fun in that?" 

you sigh, and satoru leans his head on your shoulder. you don't even comment on the fact that he's even closer now, or that he smells like a gallon of sweat. 

no, in all actuality, you don't really want him to move. you want him to stay right there and be your block from the world. 

not that you'd ever admit that out loud. 

"i really hate you," you tell him, quietly, once you've realized that you haven't said anything. 

satoru smiles up at you, teeth peeking out from bright pink lips. then he groans theatrically. "you know i can't resist flattery, sweetheart." 

you roll your eyes again. "how have you survived this long?" you wonder aloud. and then you pause. "no, wait. i already know." 

"what?"

"special grade sorcerer," you whisper, in mock awe. you shiver when satoru runs a hand up your thigh, just to mess with you.

"i'll let you try to kill me next time we spar," he says, shaking his head at you. his hair is soft and ticklish against your neck. 

you still don't move him.

"i refuse to spar with you." 

he frowns. "you spar with suguru." 

"'cause he doesn't cheat." 

"i don't cheat." 

"no cursed techniques during hand-to-hand combat," you recite. 

he continues to pout, like the child he is. "how is that fair?" 

you sigh at him, shaking your head. you don't have the energy to remind him of simple rules.

"c'mon," satoru says, leaning up and nudging you. "just once. it'll be fun." 

he taps your nose with a finger. 

you grab it. "we've sparred before, and we will not be doing it again." 

satoru just smiles at you. 

and the two of you sit there like that, staring at each other, your hand wrapped around satoru's stupid finger, waiting for the other to break. 

his eyes are ridiculous, you think, for the hundredth time ever. the only real reason he's still alive is because of how pretty he is. if his bone structure was even slightly different, you think, he'd be dead. 

satoru stares back, maybe thinking the same things you are. 

but eventually, you're broken out of the daze. 

"satoru," shoko says, again, and you both snap to look at her. she's got a brow raised. "did you hear anything i just said?" 

you and satoru exchange a glance and ignore the looks of everyone else at the table. your body settles once again, no longer ignited solely by satoru's concentration you you. 

finally, satoru moves away from you, leaning on his elbow to focus in on whatever conversation his friends are having. 

you don't even realize that your hand is still wrapped around him, or when, eventually, satoru intertwines his fingers with yours. 

you go back to eating your dinner, and you're very comfortable with the amount of space you have to yourself now. 

really. 

*

"hey," you say, pulling your jacket tighter around your body. 

it's too cold to be outside, but it's too loud to be in bed. too quiet. "can't sleep?" you ask suguru. 

you crept out of your room just ten minutes ago. you were only going to get something to drink--something to soothe your irritating heart--when you realized that it would never work. 

so you ventured outside, instead, not really caring about rules or being caught. 

and just when you were walking across the courtyard, you stumbled upon him (for a brief moment, you'd thought it was yaga, and almost ran back inside.)

but suguru just sitting there, on the steps, looking out into the forest like it'll come up with some answers for him. his hair is tied up, and he's got a better jacket on than you do. 

you look at it a bit enviously. 

suguru blows out a breath, the smell of cigarette smoke filling the air. you watch the puff as it disappears into the air. "no, you?" 

"can i sit?" you ask, looking at the space beside him. suguru nods, watching as you sit down beside him, shivering. "nightmares," you tell him, answering the question.

he smiles at you, shaking his head ambiguously.

you gesture towards his hand. "i didn't know you smoked." 

suguru almost laughs. "i don't, really. shoko's a bad influence." 

he holds it towards you, but you shake your head. 

"no, thanks. i've got enough bad habits to last a lifetime." 

he laughs, stamping out the rest of the unsmoked bud on the ground. 

you look towards the trees, almost expecting something to jump out from behind them--even though you know that no curse can touch you, or anyone here.

you don't get a lot of alone time with suguru. you're comfortable enough around him--and haibara sings enough praises for you to know what he's like. still, you're not sure what to say to him, or what he might know about you. 

probably too much, you think. 

eventually, you look back to suguru, smirking. "so, did you leave satoru sleeping by himself in your bed?" 

"he snores," suguru answers, easily, and his shoulder brushes against yours. 

you giggle, flexing your hands, trying to regain some feeling in your fingers. 

a small part of you is glad that he's out here, right now. that there's someone else to be around, to remind you that it's all okay. and, if worst comes to worst, suguru is a lot stronger than you are. 

you look up to the sky, tracing the remains of clouds with your eyes. there are no shapes to be made out--there never are, this late at night. and it's different here, at school. 

at home, you can hear all of the bugs at night, and you can smell the breeze as it passes through. but here, it's almost irrationally silent. it doesn't smell like anything here. like cursed energy is strong enough to fade out the smell of the pine or the pollen. 

you're silent, looking around. 

"do you want my jacket?" suguru asks, suddenly, after you've shivered against him for the seventh time. 

you look towards him, trying to ignore how cold you feel, and you sniff. "no, it's okay." 

suguru's got a sly smile when he says, "probably shouldn't, anyway." 

"what do you mean?" 

he laughs to himself, then shakes his head. 

you feel like you're missing something as you wait for him to answer. to clue you in on the joke. 

"do you get them a lot?" he asks, instead of answering your confused glance. "nightmares?" 

you swallow, nodding. "yeah. do you?" 

"all the time." 

"any advice? haibara says you've got overwhelming amounts of wisdom." 

he snorts. "haibara..." he whispers, almost appreciatively.

you tilt your head at him, waiting. 

"i'm only a year older, you know?" 

you nod, consider it for a moment. then you think about satoru--inevitably--and what he said last time you mentioned the mere one year of age between the two of you. "well, a year is a long time for a sorcerer, isn't it?" 

suguru makes a face. "i guess that's true." 

you lean your chin on a palm, waving a hand. "so...?" 

he grins at you. "finding someone to wake up next to helps," he says, only slightly teasing.  

you understand what he's getting at, so you roll your eyes. "not all of us have a clingy best friend." 

"satoru would cuddle with you if you asked." 

"good thing i'm never asking." 

"yeah, you shouldn't," suguru answers, feeling much older than he is, "he kicks." 

"i bet." 

suguru laughs again and clears his throat, looking around. you know there's nothing there, but you wait anyway. "i just try to remember that it's not real..." he says, eventually, "even if it seems like it." 

you sigh, looking back to the forest separating your two worlds. "that's gonna be difficult, because i only dream about curses. and those are all real." 

not to mention the other very real things you have nightmares about. the memories, the yelling, the quivering ideas that hide themselves in the corners of your head, begging to be let go, to be let out. 

suguru must see this on your face; you're assuming it's fairly obvious. 

he nudges you, but doesn't say anything for a moment, just looking back when you look at him. and then. "i have dreams about it, too." 

you furrow your brows at him. "about what?" 

"home. my parents." 

you swallow, pausing. you blink rapidly, trying to regain your ground. "i don't..." 

his face relaxes, at once. "satoru talks too much," he says, trying to joke. "especially about you." 

you ignore that. "i don't--i barely think about my... parents. i'm too busy." 

"i think your situation is probably worse than mine," suguru answers, obviously ignoring your lies. "my parents didn't tell me to leave. but... it was obvious that i couldn't stay." 

it doesn't seem worth it to try and deny it, and if he's going to offer up information willingly, then who are you not to listen? 

"how old were you?" 

"eight," he says, easily. "you?" 

"ten." 

he nods, scratching at his neck. "i didn't tell anyone about it, for a long time. i thought... i knew that they wouldn't--" 

"get it?" 

"yeah." 

you huff, relaxing at once. you slouch down, staring at the ground. suguru is wearing dirt-covered shoes, and you've got slippers on. "wish i'd thought of that. if i hadn't told anyone i'd probably still be there." 

"you'd be hiding, though," suguru says, watching you, "trying to pretend like you fit in there, even if you didnt. couldn't." 

"it would've been easier to pretend than having to live through it," you say, softly, absolutely sure about this. you've had a lot of time to think about it. then you smile, "i would've made a good human." 

suguru laughs, tapping his foot against the ground. "what would you have done? if you weren't a sorcerer, i mean." 

"uh..." you frown. you've never given the real world much thought--not beyond foolish dreams and stupid glances--"i think i'd be a taxi driver or something." 

he snorts. "satoru says that you're a terrible driver." 

"big talk from someone who can't drive," you say, scoffing. "and he was distracting me the entire time." you shake your head, annoyed at just the memory. "what would you be?"

he pauses. "...a teacher?" 

"this is what haibara means by wisdom," you say, laughing. "maybe i wouldn't be a good human. i can't imagine doing anything else." 

"maybe not." 

you swallow. there are not very many stars in the sky, but you can still see all of the constellations and the stories written within the sky. part of you wonders if you'll be up there someday, another myth to speak about. 

no, probably not. satoru will be written in history, and you'll still be here, always thrown out or forgotten

"do you think... do you think that my parents would be sorry? if they could talk to me now? if they saw what i can do?" 

suguru hums, he doesn't even seem surprised by the question, to his credit. "i don't know... they--non-sorcerers--can't really understand, can they? they don't know that we exist solely to protect them, so they can't appreciate it. it makes it hard to be... angry, at them, doesn't it?" 

you blow out a breath, looking away from the stars. "yeah." 

"when yaga scouted me," suguru says, "my parents thought he was crazy. i understood what he said immediately, but they couldn't believe that anything like this could exist. and then, when i told them about the curses i was seeing, and absorbing..." 

you look at him. his face is tense and easy, all at once. he doesn't mind telling you this, you realize. maybe haibara was right. 

his eyes are contemplative as he looks around the courtyard, thinking about things you're sure you've thought about too.

"they thought i was crazy too, after that," he continues, finally. "my dad avoided me, and my mom never tried to argue with me about leaving. neither of them minded that i was going to this bizarre school and might not ever come home. even though they thought that yaga was a maniac." 

you look at the ground, trying to push the memories out. you bite the inside of your cheek and wonder if there was ever a way to save that smaller version of yourself. if she'd grown up here, would she be the same?

"i think," suguru says, voice a bit harder, "that even if i was crazy, and all of the things i saw and experienced were fake, that if my parents truly cared about me, then they would've tried to help. they wouldn't have... ignored me, or treated me like i was the curse." 

your neck snaps to him, and his eyes meet yours. suguru lets a thoughtful smile slip from his lips as he says, "it's not your fault that they didn't understand. that they couldn't. but it's their fault that they never tried to." 

maybe it's because you haven't dared to speak with anyone about it--beyond snarky remarks to satoru when he says something ignorant--or maybe it's because suguru is the only person who gets it. who truly understands in a way that only children can. 

or maybe it's just that you've been waiting for someone to say that to you since you were ten. since you were rejected solely for being yourself, being different. 

six years of wondering if it was ever fair.

you swallow, nodding. 

"sorry," he whispers after you're lost for words, struggling to put the pieces of you back. "but you can talk to me, if you want. i've been told i'm very wise." 

you snort, shaking your head. he's like satoru in that way--shaking you out of whatever matters. "i really need to stop telling satoru things. he can't ever keep his mouth shut." 

suguru laughs, looking at the sky. "no, don't." 

"hmm?" 

"don't stop telling him things. i'll have to hear all about it." 

you laugh. 

"'why would she be mad at me?'" suguru mocks, in a very good impression of satoru's honey-flow voice. "'i didn't even do anything.'" 

"'i didn't know it was a secret,'" you say back, suddenly lighter. 

suguru nudges you, hand wrapped around your forearm. just there. his fingertips are cold, but you don't mind.

"does satoru really tell you about the things we talk about?" you ask, after a while. 

your entire body feels numb now, and you might freeze out here, but somehow it's worth it. just to not be alone for once.

suguru looks over at you, his brown eyes slight and knowing. "he doesn't need to," he says. 

you have to look away, just so he doesn't catch that shock--the brief moment of recognition, pleasure--as it passes. but you smile in the dark eventually, letting it go unsaid. 

and that's just how things are. 

you spend your late nights chatting with suguru in the dark, both of you hopelessly lost and completely insane. 

you let satoru irritate you whenever he wants, and sometimes you even bask in it. letting all of the horrors wash away with every quip that you send his way. 

and you ignore that light--and heavy--feeling in your chest around him, pretending that it doesn't exist, or maybe it just doesn't matter. 

you spend time with people who understand you, for once. you let the fear flow away in concerning thoughts and subconscious glances inward. you let the fears of attaching yourself to them fade away. 

you know that any of you could be gone, could live with the regret of never living, at any moment, so you choose not to care about any of it. you go on missions and you act like your life is a feeble thing to play around with. 

and it's honestly not all that bad. 

until riko amanai, that is. 

*

third year.

"suguru," your voice almost catches when he opens the door. 

how many days has it been since you've seen him? how many weeks? 

you've spent the last several weeks trying to let the two of them settle. into life, into existing, whatever. 

you ask shoko how they're both doing--satoru and suguru--and she just shrugs. 

"they don't like to talk about it," she tells you, and you try to just accept it. you try to let it go and worry about yourself, about your own messed up life. 

but everything feels different. 

satoru hasn't been answering your calls, which, okay, fine. you could deal with that. but he also hasn't been calling you, or showing up at your door just to talk, or stealing your breakfast, or clinging to you like he does. 

he hasn't been doing any of it. and you could pretend you haven't noticed--that it doesn't matter to you if he cares or not. if he wants to be around you or not. 

but it matters. 

you decided to let him in at the beginning of the year, and you hadn't thought it was a mistake until now. until this exact moment, when you realized that you'd gotten too close to satoru. that you were friends, or... 

you look at suguru now and you try not to gape. 

his face is dreadfully grey, his eyes almost completely sunken in. he looks like an elderly man who hasn't slept in five years, just on the verge of death. 

and you know from shoko that he's been gone a lot, like satoru, that he's been busy, but... still. this doesn't happen to overworked sorcerers. the recovery rate for all of you is extremely quick. 

you really try not to gape. you try not to stare at him for too long, but you can't peel your eyes away. 

"y/n," he whispers, no pleasantries needed. even his voice sounds rough. "is something wrong?" 

you should probably be asking him that. 

"no, i..." you stare for a moment, swallowing. maybe it's just his hair. you've never seen it down before, you realize, trying to refrain from taking a step back. still, there's that feeling in your chest--reminiscent of being a child, of dealing with satoru. you exhale. "are--are you sick?" 

"what?" 

"you look..." 

suguru's eyes widen, and he nods, eventually, looking caught. "yeah, i guess i came down with something... i'm just..."  

he looks behind him, and you get the sudden feeling that he doesn't want you there. doesn't want you to disturb whatever this is. 

it makes you wonder if he and satoru have talked at all, since it happened almost a month ago. maybe two months. 

you all know that sorcerers die all of the time. that people die just from living, curses or not. 

so why is this death any different? why does this one matter? you want so desperately to ask. 

"sorry, i can--i'll come back--" you say quickly, turning. then you turn around again, feeling guilty. "do you need anything? medicine? um... food?" 

finally, a small smile makes its way to suguru's face. it's small, almost unnoticeable. but something inside you relaxes. 

it shouldn't be this surprising that he even remembers how. 

"did you need something?" he asks, softly, talking to you like he always does. 

like you're sitting outside again, talking about life, ethics, being a sorcerer, and having a part of yourself hate it. 

but this is so much different.

your stomach drops again. this is a ridiculous, stupid thing to even be asking. you shouldn't be here, worrying about this. you should be in your dorm, studying. you should be training with nanami, or trying to get haibara to come with you on a mission... 

you shouldn't even be here. 

you feel like a deer in headlights, caught in this the same way you caught suguru in whatever. 

but he already knows, you rationalize. he already knows. 

everyone knows, you think. everyone but you and satoru, according to shoko's comments. 

so what do you care if suguru knows this? 

"i, um, i just haven't..." you swallow, wanting to punch yourself in the face. are you really this pathetic? "have you seen satoru?" you ask, blurring the words together. "i know you've both been... busy, but i--i've been trying to get ahold of him, and shoko says that he won't answer her messages, and it's been a couple of weeks since i've seen him around school, so i just figured--" what? that suguru would have some brilliant answer for you? that he could reassure you that satoru wasn't trying to ignore you? "--that you might know where he is... or if he's okay? he's your best friend so--" 

"i haven't seen him, either. we've been doing seperate missions," suguru says, interrupting whatever terrible thing you were about to say next, luckily. "he hasn't been answering your calls?" 

your responding "no," sounds so small you want to bury yourself beneath the earth. 

you really don't care about him, okay? you really don't. 

you just want to be notified if he's dead or something. you just want to know if you did something to make him avoid you, or if he needs someone there, or if...

suguru frowns, contemplating something. "i think he's supposed to be home in a couple of days," he says, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. it looks wet, and greasy, like he hasn't washed it in weeks. "but i'll text him." 

"...you don't have to."

he smiles, knowingly. he gives you that same look that everyone does. that look that tells you that they know more about what's going on between you and satoru than you do. "it's no problem. you know how... spacey satoru can get." 

"yeah. i know." 

"you don't need to worry about him," suguru says, laughing a little bit. his eyes are so cold, bland. 

"i know," you say, again, a bit more defensively. you take a step back. you're not sure why you expected suguru to have any answers for you. 

(maybe it's because they're best friends and they're supposed to be there for each other. or maybe it's because they just went through the same terrible experience, and should probably depend on each other right now).

maybe he told him not to answer, you think, instantly. maybe suguru is working for him. 

not that you care. if satoru doesn't want to talk to you--doesn't want suguru to talk to you--then you can't do anything about it. 

you just have to live through this like you've lived through everything else. 

he's just a classmate. 

but the question slips through your lips, breaking down all denial. "is he... do you think he's okay?" 

you want to clarify. you want to ask if they're both okay, if they've talked about any of it. if suguru needs you to get someone, like shoko, or if he wants to go sit on the steps and shout at the sky. 

if he'll come with you to look for satoru because you're really worried about him. 

if everything is okay. 

but you know that suguru wouldn't answer that, especially not like this. 

"are you okay, y/n?" suguru asks, and it's almost rhetorical. you can tell that he's trying to hit you where you're sore. 

you feel frozen there for a moment, and then you turn away. 

and that just about sums it up. 

*

you're staring down at a white sheet, and all you can think is, this can't be happening. 

not really, that is. 

it's been a long time since you felt this deeply about anything. anger, sure. are you mad that your classmates are distancing themselves from you? are you mad that everyone seems to be advancing and you're stuck there, stagnant, while everyone else deals with everything? 

of course. 

but this... 

you've had this nightmare a hundred times, but it's never gone like this. it's never been so untouchable, unforgettable, unbearable... 

your entire body feels freezing; like you're the one who's dead. 

have you already undergone rigor mortis? are you frozen there, muscles turned to stone? 

this can't be happening, you think, again. so briefly it's not really a thought. 

you're staring down at him. you're looking at him--at haibara--but this can't be how he really is, how he really was. haibara doesn't look like this, you think. you've never seen his hair this limp, never seen his face this pale. you've never seen him without a smile.

but nobody is smiling now.

you barely hear anything they're saying--the other people undergoing this, the other people who could probably tell you if this is real or not. 

"...to exterminate a second-grade cursed spirit..." rings briefly out in your mind. you wonder if you imagined it. 

your eyes glance down to the blood on the table. shouldn't shoko be here? shouldn't someone be doing something?

should you be doing something?

"nanami," someone says. "you should just rest for now." there's a hand on your shoulder, a whisper of another person in the room. "y/n, let's sit down." 

are your legs shaking? is this a physical reaction to the news? you're always calm, always collected. the only person that-- 

"satoru has taken..." the same voice continues. 

you pause, trying to listen, but their voices echo. if this were a dream, would you be able to listen? this is a dream, you think, just something to wake up from. 

there's no one here to pull you out from this flood of emotions, of thoughts. satoru would usually, you think. he would be here and he would crack and joke and you wouldn't care about it anymore.

but satoru... 

what should you do? 

"can't we just let him handle everything alone at this point?" nanami asks, and you just hear it. 

suguru ushers you over to the wall, where all of the stools are, one missing. he sits you down and you let him, because there's nothing else you can do. 

your limbs are numb, and it's ridiculous to feel this way. 

you barely even notice when you reach a hand out, grabbing nanami's, or when he grabs back, squeezing harder than you thought possible. 

you should tell him that it hurts--that he's stronger than he looks--crack a joke or say something comforting, but you can't. you don't mind if he cracks all of the bones in your hand, as long as he stays right there. 

"it's going to be okay," suguru says, maybe to you, maybe to nanami. 

but he's lying. and you know it, even if you don't know anything else.

and when you try to knock on satoru's door later, feeling absolutely nothing, he doesn't answer. 

not that you were expecting him to, anyway.

*

satoru doesn't think any of it is supposed to feel like this. 

he's been hurt a hundred times. bruised when he let suguru get a hit in during practice, sliced up when he lets shoko try something on his body just to heal him right after, cut through the literal throat, and left to bleed out. 

but it's never felt like this before. 

he's ashamed, almost. lost. 

what could he have done differently, he wonders? where did it all go wrong? 

he thinks about amanai, thinks about suguru telling him not to be so arrogant, and then rejecting him just like that. 

are you the strongest because you're satoru gojo? or are you satoru gojo because you're the strongest? 

satoru almost wants to laugh. 

well, he wants to say to suguru, how strong am i now? how strong am i like this? 

but suguru isn't there. he's not coming back, satoru thinks, blandly, and his fists clench automatically. if anyone had asked him a week ago, he would've said that everything was fine. 

everything was wrong, of course, but it was all fine. 

shoko was staying at the school, helping with the damaged sorcerers, satoru was advancing more rapidly than he'd thought was possible, and suguru was... 

what was he doing, again? 

satoru blinks, and before he can answer that question for himself--answer any one of the goddamn questions floating around in his head--you're there. 

you're there, and satoru suddenly can't remember the last time he saw you. 

he certainly can't remember the last time he saw your eyes that sad, that wrong on the rest of your otherwise untouched face. 

his defenses go down immediately, as they always do when you're around. it's probably a stupid decision, but satoru doesn't really care to rationalize it. 

he's missed you, he thinks, suddenly. he's missed you more than he should. 

you don't say anything when you sit down next to him, on the steps of the school, watching as his hands fall from their outstretched position. 

"do you think that i'm strong?" satoru asks you, his voice rough, so tired. 

and then he looks over to you and he watches as all of the thoughts pass on your face--the thoughts about suguru, knowing what he means, the worry and concern that he hasn't missed on your face since he first met you. 

but you sigh, eventually, and you move a little bit closer to him. 

"are you strong, satoru?" 

he hasn't spoken to you in weeks, he remembers, suddenly. he doesn't even know why you're here now. 

not when he's been avoiding you in favor of improving himself. not when he's been ignoring all of his responsibilities so he could try to get back to that place where there wasn't anything to care about. 

"not strong enough," he answers, distantly. he's not even really sure if he means it.

your head falls to his shoulder in an instant, and you're there again. 

satoru remembers every smile and every wince on your face. every time he made you laugh and then said something else just so he could try and do it again. 

god, he's such a fool. 

"that's okay," you whisper, eventually. "that's why you have me," you tell him. 

"do i?" he wonders, aloud. 

"hmm?" 

"do i have you?" 

you lift your head, and you're smiling, just a little. satoru can see the bitterness in your expression. he can tell that you're angry and that you're tired of it. 

he can taste that hint of happiness that pours from you, that contradicting feeling of just being together again, even in a moment like this. 

"of course," you say to him, softly. it's soft, unbelievable. "whenever you want." 

satoru nods. 

and you sit there with him for hours, and for once, you're the one pulling him out of everything. 

just briefly satoru wonders what he would do if you left, too. 

*

"what?" you repeat, watching nanami throw something into a suitcase. 

you've been standing there for five minutes, processing this like you've processed everything recently. 

meaning that you haven't. and that you're not going to as long as you'd like, thank you. 

"what's the point of this?" kento answers, like you tried to tell him that there was a purpose to any of this. like you're just arguing. 

but you can't be, because this isn't a discussion. you didn't happen upon his room and pick an argument with him. 

you walked through the hall and you noticed the suitcase outside the door. the boxes he was stacking up to take somewhere else. 

would he even have told you? would he have said anything if you hadn't stumbled upon it yourself? 

"kento," you say, again, like a grounding tool. "i don't understand." 

he sighs, folding a suit. "i'm not going to sit around and live this life. i don't care about jujutsu. i don't care about any of it." 

"but, you..." 

"there's no point, is there?" he asks, quietly, and he's not asking. "and even if there was, i don't care. i don't want to die doing this, y/n." 

"you won't die," you answer, uselessly, trying to grab onto his arm, to get him to look at you. you want him to walk you through this, this thought process, the past three months here. "where are you going to go?" 

"i don't know. i'll find an entry-level position somewhere." 

"where are you going to live?" 

"there's an available apartment in the city." 

"but..." 

"look," finally nanami turns around, meeting your eyes. he's never been emotional, but he looks even more stoic now. maybe he really doesn't care. "i don't want to be a sorcerer. i don't want to exterminate curses every day. i want to... live a normal life." 

"what?" you repeat, feeling that terror rise in your chest. 

so many people are leaving, you think. so many people are running away from this, and eventually, you're going to have to follow. or you'll rot here alone, hiding in the closet like you did as a kid. 

"nanami, you can't just decide that you don't--" 

"i already did." 

"what about..." you swallow, and nanami shakes his head at you. his eyes are glazed over and you know he's not going to listen. you can feel it. "what about haibara?" you ask, finally, stepping over the boundaries you've laid down about him. "he wouldn't have wanted you to live some boring life in the city and run away from all of this--" 

nanami's eyes are stern, his jaw clenches. "haibara died. isn't that proof enough that this doesn't matter?"

"it does matter," you say, even though you're not sure yourself. "it does." 

"geto left, too. if the only two choices are staying and dying or leaving and living a boring life, then i choose the latter." 

"suguru killed--" you pause, not wanting to talk about it out loud. you haven't seen satoru since the day you found out, and you don't want to risk having to think about him. "nanami, you're useful here. you're strong. you can do whatever--" 

"gojo handles most of our cases now, anyway, doesn't he?" 

you freeze, looking away. "well, he can't handle every curse, even if..." 

"there's no point, y/n." 

"what about--" 

what about me? 

he gives you one more look, another glance your way, another reminder that your only remaining classmate doesn't want to be that anymore. that there's nothing you can do to stop him from leaving. 

it's your parents all over again.

are you the crazy one here? are you crazy for wanting to stay, even with all of the horror?

"i'm sorry," he says, after a moment, looking sincerely at you. but nanami has never been able to read your mind. he has never tried to spare your feelings--you thought you liked that about him. "we'll still talk. i'll call you." 

"yeah, sure." 

because you have to give up at some point. if nanami doesn't want to stay, you don't want to force him. 

"this is what's best." 

you nod blindly. and you wonder, for the first time since you got to jujutsu high, if you're strong enough for this. 

*

 year zero. 

"this is basically every kid's dream," satoru says, rolling his eyes. megumi is the most difficult kid he's ever encountered, and he refuses to be pleased. "i got you candy and i'm letting you stay up late. why aren't you normal?" 

megumi looks up at him, a vigorous hatred in his eyes. "why aren't you?" he repeats, attempting to kick at satoru's foot. 

honestly, it's a little pathetic. 

satoru tries not to snort, about to tell megumi about the millions of children lacking in candy at this current moment, or about how he's actively trying to find them a place to sleep even after megumi tried to punch him in the stomach earlier and--

he looks over to tsumiki, the little angel who is in no way biologically related to megumi, and watches as she waves. 

his brows furrow, and then he looks up, away from the child attempting to murder him with his eyes, and he sees you. 

you're standing there, a figure illuminated by the light in your entryway, a wary look on your face. 

you're looking at both of the children, eyes flicking between the two of them, probably noticing how small they are, or how wet their clothes are from the rain. 

not that satoru cares, actually. 

as soon as satoru sees you--as soon as he can feel you again, the familiar curves and concaves of your cursed energy, of your entire being--his heart shifts, clicking back into place. 

you look a bit upset, angry at his intrusion as you've always pretended to be. 

he hasn't seen you in months, and it's suddenly very apparent. you look almost exactly the same. maybe you got your hair cut, or maybe you've just woken up, but satoru doesn't care. 

he doesn't care about any of it. 

his lips curve into an involuntary smile, and he wants to throw himself on top of you and tell you a million little things. he wants to whisper all of his secrets in your ear and hold you until you force him to let you go.

but you clear your throat, interrupting him before he can begin, and your eyes finally look towards him, both firey and excited. 

his favorite.

"satoru," you say, the sound of his name in your mouth sending goosebumps up and down his skin. "where did you get these kids?" 

*

next part | series masterlist

[aft3rhrs]

Hey guys! 🩷 Thank you so much for your asks and messages 🩷

Honestly I just wanna get something off my chest. Someone asked me if I'm leaving or using a new blog. Both? I made a new blog, but somehow the thought of coming back here still feels so uncomfortable. And I realised it's because I addressed and worked through the 'hate' part and all.

But... there is also an issue I have had with my own readers that I didn't expect to have.

Look, there is absolutely nothing wrong with having your kinks and all. My blog itself is pretty crazy.

But... it's fictional.

It seems not only 'haters' can't separate reality from fiction, but sometimes readers too.

There is a reason I have never called my blog a "kink blog" (again, nothing wrong with that!), but rather stuck to horror.

I have talked about this before but as my interest in darker shows and works grew, I wanted to write a horror story and I realised I had no idea how to, because I have spent all my life writing pg 13 romance and fantasy 😭

I wanted to get out of my comfort zone and challenge myself. So I jumped into deep waters with requests, hoping for inspiration, and for the first time tried writing horror AND smut.

I love storytelling, I love exploring new things in writing, so even though the smut part is so big on my blog, I always give my characters personalities and back stories (at least I try lmao) and dive into their mental state because... I love writing.

And I did always want my blog to be a safe space for everyone... but that's including myself.

And I feel like some people just.... I'm sorry I'm just gonna say it.

What do you mean you want a fic based on the The Burning Sun Scandal. WHAT DO YOU MEAN. 😭 What do you mean you want me to write about your cousin. 😭😭

Am I crazy??? That's a REAL tragedy, guys, and it's so fucking upsetting and disrespectful to the survivors. And no one even stops to think the author might be upset or triggered bc they're a survivor too or bc this is, again, A REAL TRAGEDY????

It's like watching murder on a screen. It doesn't affect you the same way a real life murder with a real victim would! But it might still be too upsetting or violent so warnings exist for that.

"Um you write non con that happens in real life too" absolutely. But I am not getting inspo from REAL CASES involving REAL PEOPLE and real trauma. The people, places, events, are MADE UP, and if any feelings or situations are inspired by experiences, they're MY OWN experiences, and even then my work is far from reality.

I am not glorifying Dahmer and writing smut about him ok?

😭😭😭

And the thing is we talked about this before and I thought I made that super clear on my blog, always.

If it wasn't before, then I guess this is the post I'm gonna have to pin somewhere.

I just... I expected this from the tea blog clowns, who are shocked a writer writes fictional non con but advocates for real victims 😭 Like you write about war and suddenly you're a real life dictator. 😭

It's OK to make mistakes and learn. I'm just so so so tired of dealing with people who don't care to learn and it almost makes me feel bad for writing here. I know I can't be responsible for my readers and I can't control who follows me. But just.

If it wasn't clear before. Even though I have this in my intro post.

I'm sorry if you were looking for something else, there are other blogs for that. I'm just a writer writing fictional stories.

The only Burning Sun Scandal fic I would ever write would be with all the men getting, literally, burned to death. 💀

Anyway. Sorry, I had to get that out, I feel like I have had so much to deal with on this blog and I'm just working through it.

Take care of yourselves 🩷 hope you're all staying warm and eating well.

I will be back around to check in soon, maybe edit a fic? Who knows, maybe getting this out will make me feel better. Love you sm 🩷🫂

[zoropookie]

HOW HATERS ARE BORN (HHAB)

♡ chapter thirty-three — give it time (����)

“I’ll admit, you made it look like a home.”

You looked around, enamored by the mutable blend of the other’s home. There was oddly a cozy charm that bled in the space, a mixture of contrasts that you wouldn’t have thought he would involve himself with.

There were soft shadows playing against the walls, promenaded by the warm and golden glow of the lamps. It was really elegant in here, yet, meticulously chosen to make you feel comfortable enough to sit down on the obviously expensive furniture.

“Didn’t know you had a…knack for interior design either.” You said hesitantly, looking at a very abstract tiny statue of a triangle on one of the shelves. Even thought you were interested, it still just felt like a painted on canvas for you. Kind of like...the idea that there can be paint on a canvas, but it doesn't make it a painting. "Learning a lot more about you everyday."

"It wasn't my idea," He sighed. "I told the interior designer 'not too many colors', and I guess she thought I was talking about completely mute."

"Feels like a sanctuary," you murmured.

Despite the dismissive words he gave you, the effort that was put into everything was clearly crafted and corroborated. You walked over to the books sitting on the coffee table, the only things out of place from the rest of the textures, reading the hard cover and smiling.

"You're really considering it?" You asked, to which Kuni turned towards you, "Taking care of the orchard outside."

He shrugged, his eyes moving back to making tea in the kitchen. "I don't have a choice. It's either me who does it, or it dies."

"That's not true, you can always pay someone to do it for you. I know there's a lot of people who may want it for themselves, it's completely healthy." You rambled, trying to see it through the long windows. "I take it that was a housewarming gift too?"

"From Furina. Came with the house, thought it'd be funny to see me struggle with something mundane."

"I heard," You grinned, not being able to keep your laugh in. "Love that for you, it's like a package deal! Did it work?"

He sighed again, running a hand through his hair at the thought. "I guess, I don't know," He started pour the tea once the pot began to steam. "I know her goal was to drive me insane. A constant reminder that no matter how far I try to distance myself from complications, they find a way to root themselves in my life."

"Hey, I wouldn't see it as that." You chuckled, the sound mixing with the soft clinking of the ceramic cups he was setting on the table. "It's probably just a way to keep you grounded after everything."

"I don't see the appeal in tending to trees."

"Maybe it's not even about that," You mused. "Maybe it's just about finding a healthy medium in your life, don't suppose you had that before, right?" You said, teasingly.

He rolled his eyes at you, a humored smile tugging at his lips. "You're one to preach about silver linings."

Your jaw dropped, a small scoff coming from your mouth. "I actually came here to truce, thank you very much. Even though you're the one who tried to run away from me — news flash, didn't work, genius. Still pissed off about that. I'm glad that Furina is looking to help you as much as she's looking to out you."

"Running away is my thing." He squinted playfully, "Like she's big help anyway. The only reason she's in on it is because she wants us to have this romance trope going on for real this time. It's stupid as fuck."

You paused at his words, feeling yourself swallow a big lump some of the tea nestled in your mouth. You shivered at the heat that washed on you, pursing your lips in thought as you let the conversation simmer. The two of you standing in a companionable silence. The trees outside rustled gently in the breeze, their leaves a vibrant contrast to the muted tones inside.

"I mean, I don't know," You paused, cringing as your fingers tightened on your cup. "I don't think it's stupid."

Kuni stiffened too, gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to meet yours. There was a certain look that you've never seen before from him. You couldn't decipher his actual feelings. "I figured."

Your cheeks flushed. "Holy shit, never mind if you were expecting it already." You hissed to yourself, trying to ebb how much embarrassment was on your skin. "Look, I need to check into my hotel soon—"

"Sit down." He cut you off, assertiveness in his tone enough to get you to immediately listen, plopping back down. There was an unexpected gravity that was with him, another departure from his nonchalant attitude.

Your heart hammered rapid fire in your chest, a mix of fear and total apprehension were doing a waltz on your general disposition. The more time you were here, the more you worried about the next time you'll make an absolute fucking fool of yourself. You fidgeted with your fingers.

"What really brought you here." He asked, expectantly. "First thing you give me is a hug, and some words of affirmation. You're not here just to catch up, especially after I blew you off."

"I wanted to see you again." You admitted, the weight of your own words pressing down on you. "You owned up to it, left your part of the Internet in a spiral, and then didn't bother to talk to me after that."

He was looking at you, you sensed it. And it wasn't like you could look at him back, otherwise you were going to melt. It was different seeing him from up close, it was an original experience to you if you could name it anything.

His eyes were searching you, despite all you said, as if trying to decipher if you were being genuine. His eyes bored into you like a tiny laser burning your skin. He nodded, a sliver of understanding crossing his face. "You gave me the impression that you were done. I left it at that."

"Yeah, well, I felt like the only one who could leave it at anything was me."

Despite how sticky and tense it was again, you felt relieved that he wasn't as malicious as he was behind the screen. You were relieved that at least the worst of it was over. But it didn't didn't help the burning in your chest, the aching of the bubble in your throat. "Ei really made you do all that stuff? It's not because you really do hate me, right?"

There was no more pretending anymore, no more hiding behind false bravado or dissing each other behind screens like pussies. It was only raw honesty, vulnerable and exposed.

"(Y/N)." His expression softened, a silent dilemma clear on his face. He gathered his own courage, squaring his shoulders a bit and looking at you again. "I'm sorry."

You felt dazed, electricity in the air around you, the world officially tilted on its axis to you. "What?" You accentuated snippier than you intended.

"You were collateral. Nothing that you did deserved what happened to you. Makes sense that you did what you did, you weren't the problem." He explained, shoulders slumped again. "I was behind what I did, at the end of the day; Ei just told me to do it. I'm sorry for being part of the reason you couldn't bounce back. I know if the situation were different, I'd leave you alone."

People kept saying that to you these days, that nothing that happened was because you deserved it. Maybe you never quite got the picture until Kuni said something along the lines of it. You never thought that him apologizing to you would garner the oddest reaction out of you.

Because why was it sexy..? Stop.

"And," He sighed, grabbing your attention lightspeed again. "I would consider liking you more if this all didn't happen. You're alright."

His admission of everything was catching you off guard left and right. You had no idea what to feel with the prominent knot in your stomach. "Do you like me?" "(Y/N), I don't want to—"

"I'm alright, in your words, but do you like me?" Your tone solidified with each word slowly jutting out, assertiveness hardening your composure. "Tell me. Look at me and tell me."

The uncertainly stretched on for what was practically indefinitely. He held his breath, as did you, waiting for his response. Your heart was ruthless against you, beating against your body. He sized you up, seeking an answer for himself.

"...Yeah?" He admitted, voice barely audible as he tried to find his own words. But everything he did think of was so unlike him, out of his personal way of handling things like this. "Yeah. I do."

You blinked, both of your eye contact filling a certain, more romantic space that neither of you even thought was there before today. But the more you realized it, the more you realized that maybe the sexual tension was always there.

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YOU ARE on your way to being one of the hottest streamer in your nation at the moment, racking a monthly average of 10 million viewers, but something specific bothers you about it. you know that a lot of people hate you, but there's this one account. one account that's been following you since the early days of your career. they leave a flood of rude comments in your stream, your moderators banned each account they made, but they keep making more. you are at the end of your tether. but you are yet to find out that this persistent cockroach is none other than your friend's friend (and the only other streamer that's bigger than you), scaramouche.

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