#jailbreak from my mind please?

[commemorator]

najaa(addphonetic) : its a dutch thing i find myself using because sometimes theres a thing in a language that says something your language does not and learing that is how the human experience works And someties, that thing is really languaging, as in my case, I recognize

how it resonates to own fatalistic culture and implications for analysis of own(possibilities) culture and language + how lgs dynamic lends well to analysis on discourse(possibilities) + how i heard of it and how i was motivated to write and how it affects me on a deeper level and how it lends well to analysis of social media and its changes on our behavior(possibilities) and how it lends well to understanding terms and realities of subjectification(possibilities) and how deconstruction can be applied meaningfully and how this lends well to point on intentional exercising of forces of sequentiality and simultaneity + how everything is an opportunity for creation + how language can be used as conceptual tool for cultivation in all ways: educational, mentally healing or liberatory(possibilities), as opposed to it semantic isolation or lack of agency or unimportance

> first part: avg(q:high)! length - avg(q:avg)! harmony length/clarity/cogref - self level focus - low(q:low)! deterioration accuracy - low(q:low)! semantic markers > second part: high(q:high)! length - low(q:high)! harmony length/clarity/cogref - analysis level focus - high(q:low)! deterioration accuracy - high(q:low)! semantic markers > third part: low(q:high)! length - high(q:low)! length/clarity/cogref - communication level focus - low(q:low)! deterioration accuracy - high(q:low)! semantic markers > fourth part: low(q:6)! length - avg(q:low)! length/clarity/cogref - meta level focus - low(q:high)! deterioration accuracy - high(q:high)! semantic markers

[swordfright]

what are your logistical questions about the guard dog au?

Ohhhh boyyy. Well. First of all I'm sorry it took me like a month to answer this, I got busy.

I wanna start by saying I wasn't around when Guard Dog AU was created, it was before my time (just barely) but I have read dozens of fics with this premise so bear in mind that I thiiiink I have a pretty solid understanding of how GD is supposed to work?? But I could be wrong about some details, in which case please feel free to correct me! Also, I wouldn't normally poke holes in someone's AU because at the end of the day, AUs are supposed to be fun fantasy what-if scenarios and not airtight canon-compliant thought experiments. The only reason I feel comfortable doing it with Guard Dog is because, from what I can tell, this AU wasn't created by any one specific person, it just sort of manifested on twitter in like 2021 and now there are literally hundreds of pieces of fan content about it. What I'm saying is, Guard Dog is The People's AU and that's the only reason I don't feel weird answering this ask.

Yeah, so. My logistical questions are as follows:

What's Sam's motivation for letting Q borrow Dream?

When in the timeline is this taking place? (because that affects EVERYTHING)

What threat is Dream purportedly guarding Las Nevadas from?

How does Dream's presence change the preexisting dynamic in Las Nevadas?

What is Quackity actually getting out of this?

Who does or doesn't have the revive book at this point?

I'll try to address these as neatly as I can. So, my understanding of the premise: Quackity somehow gets Sam to agree to let Dream out of the prison so he can live out the remainder (or some unspecified portion?) of his life sentence acting as security for LN. In some variants it seems like this is happening after Dream gives up the revive book, but in other variants that's not the case or it's left unclear. There are a couple points at which this feels implausible/OOC, namely:

1.) Sam would never let Dream out, even on parole. He does not want Dream under anyone else's watch. He wants Dream in Pandora at all costs. You cannot convince me he would just let someone borrow the prisoner for a bit, for any reason - especially not Quackity, who imo Sam probably sees as a greater threat to his authority as warden than almost anyone. Think about it: aside from Sam, Q has probably had the most consistent contact with the prisoner during his incarceration; Q's violence and general temperament mean that Sam likely knows Q killing Dream is a possibility, and that without the warden's supervision this could very well happen. Sam obviously isn't concerned for Dream's wellbeing, but he does want his prisoner alive because otherwise he's not a prisoner and Sam's not a warden. So yeah. "Just me and him" line etc etc. Dream ain't never gettin' outta there if Sam has anything to say about it.

2.) What is Dream actually capable of contributing to LN? In other words, would initiating Guard Dog actually pay off for Quackity in tangible ways? It depends on where in the timeline we are. If this is happening post-torture era or even mid-torture era, Dream is likely physically incapable of performing the feats of combat he was capable of prior to prison. Hell, even if Guard Dog era is happening instead of the torture era, Dream has still been in prison for a while and is probably already experiencing the disabling effects of prolonged malnutrition and neglect. So if Dream is known for PVP and his PVP skills took a severe blow recently, then what use is he as a security guard? Which brings us to the next question...

3.) What threat is Dream even guarding LN from? Quackity's foremost enemy is Technoblade, who has largely peace'd-out between Doomsday and Jailbreak. Q is evidently not eager to reignite a direct conflict with Techno because he got his ass handed to him last time. Also, he's aware that Techno and Dream are allies, so why would he put Dream in a place that's easier to rescue Dream from than Pandora? You could argue that maybe by publicly turning Dream into a glorified slave laborer Q is indirectly flaunting his power (the power of ownership) in Techno's face, but I don't see this as terribly likely given that (based on some of the visitation dialogue) Q misunderstands the nature of Dream and Techno's relationship. Critically, he doesn't seem to realize that they are comrades in addition to allies. And I think flaunting ownership of Dream would only make sense if you thought you were really hurting Techno in the process - Quackity just doesn't seem to have picked up on the fact that this is even a possibility. Based on all this, the enemy Dream is supposed to be fending off probably isn't Techno, so who is it? Las Nevadas is pretty much a neutral state. Q has people he doesn't like, but his list of Actual Real Enemies is surprisingly short. The population of the server is also comically small, so like...intruders? What intruders??? It's not as if Q really has to worry about strangers breaking in and robbing him or something, which is usually what guard dogs are for. My current answer to this question is that the threat would have to be the Egg. Possession by the Egg can turn people you know into strangers, and the entity that is the Egg can travel/infiltrate new spaces by way of the vines. Also, this conveniently answers the sub-question of "what threat can Dream defend LN against that the actual members of LN couldn't?" If you suddenly have to worry about contamination, it makes sense that you would send someone disposable to deal with the contaminant - not your own friends or employees. Speaking of which...

4.) Dream's presence in LN would change the faction's dynamic and Quackity is sooo poorly equipped to navigate that. Quackity's whole shtick is that he's charismatic because he can't be strong. He's volatile, conniving, violent, insecure, hedonistic, profit-motivated and has poor impulse control, but he's also able to project confidence and affability in ways that have been advantageous to him. There are two sides to Quackity and he seemingly likes to keep them separate. If Guard Dog is happening after the torture arc, then Quackity is used to showing the worst aspects of his personality only around Dream. In Pandora, he's a torturer; in Las Nevadas, he's a leader. So what happens when those two places effectively become the same place? If LN is Dream's new prison, how is Quackity supposed to act there? Sure, he's not particularly kind and caring when dealing with his staff (most of them were recruited via intimidation, after all) but they've never seen the side of him that Dream has seen. How is he supposed to maintain that authority over Dream while continuing to be the version of himself that Fundy and Purple and Foolish and co. know? Quackity talks a big game about (and makes gestures toward) not caring that people know about the torture, but he obviously does have reservations about it. When Wilbur asks him about visiting, he dodges around the question. When he discourages Foolish from breaking in, he's weird and cagey about it even though he knows he needs to come clean. When Tommy confronts him about the torture directly, he says "Don't ever say that, not even as a joke." He's defensive. This is another one of Q's hilarious contradictions: he wants to enjoy the benefits of being known as a dangerous person without the downsides of people being actually scared of him or finding him repulsive. He wants to have his cake and eat it too, and Dream's presence in Las Nevadas puts that impulse in jeopardy. There's a big difference between people suspecting you may have done some torture vs people actually witnessing that torture firsthand, or even seeing its aftereffects. Not to mention, there are now other people for Dream to interact with besides Sam, Q, and the prison guards! That changes things, even if Dream isn't allowed to speak to them directly. In Pandora, Bad and Ant had one job, which was to keep the prison running and keep Dream inside it - that's not the case with the LN crew. These people have shit to do! Foolish is building Quackity a replica of the Eiffel Tower, he doesn't have the time or interest to be a prison guard. I could go on but you get my drift. Things would get so weird so fast.

5.) The revive book complicates all of this. If Dream actually did give up the book and Sam understood how to use it, I could be convinced that maybe he would let Quackity borrow Dream for a bit - because hey, if he kills Dream then Sam can just revive him! However, I don't feel confident saying that Q wouldn't just kill Dream immediately after getting the book. We know Q enjoys torturing Dream, but we also know that he seemingly gets bored of it after a while. We also know he has at least some level of concern for propriety/his own rep, so he does have plausible reasons to just straight-up kill him after getting the book. Like, he got what he wanted (necromancy knowledge + a fun 3 months of recreational activity) and if he kills Dream then that's one less person to potentially spread word of Q's uhhhh proclivities around the server - which, again, he paradoxically does seem to care about. Even if Q's plan was to relocate Dream to LN to better access to his fave chew toy and never intended to kill Dream, would Sam believe that?? Q can't directly go against the warden's orders when he's visiting Pandora because that would be stupid and dangerous, but in Las Nevadas? Hm. I think Sam may see Guard Dog as an attempt on Q's part to move the prisoner to a location fully under Q's control so that he can kill Dream without risking retaliation from the warden. Basically, I think this au only has a chance to work in a scenario where Dream has given up the revive book to Sam, but not to Quackity. Because otherwise, Sam just wouldn't let him go. Quackity does want the revive book, but moreso he enjoys torturing Dream, so I do find it semi-plausible that Q would initiate Guard Dog even if he didn't have the book yet.

Ummmm so yeah! These are my questions and thoughts about Guard Dog! i think it's a really fun AU with a lot of potential, but there are kinks in the premise (pun intended) that I find it difficult to wrap my head around. anyway please talk to me about this because I think about it all the time and I wanna hear some other folks' takes too.

[jinx-xxed]

Beautiful Thing Caged

Chapter 3; Lost in the darkness, you will be found

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; I’ve been looking forward to this one 🙏 sorry it took me 12 years, now I can get to the good stuff hint hint nudge nudge

⇦ Part 2

Summary; You’ve made up your mind, and no one is going to get in your way.

Content; Werewolf AU, modern AU, werewolf Kylo Ren, human reader, or are they, scientist reader, soulmates, angst, reader has a small panic attack, running away from your problems, lying to and escaping the government, jailbreak time!!, Hux is an ass, size differences, Kylo gets bloody, murder, feral Kylo comes back for a second, becoming fugitives

[Each chapter will have specific content warnings]

Wc; 5.4k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

“You what?”

You straighten your posture under Hux’s scrutinizing gaze, holding firm. “I want him taken off the chains.”

He looks at you as if you’ve lost your mind, and he asks as such. “Have you lost your mind? Those are there as a safety procedure. Who knows what it’ll do if it’s taken off the chains.”

You can’t help the way your brows furrow at how Hux speaks, how he refers to Kylo as if he isn’t a person. He’s just something to be looked at and studied. “With all due respect sir, I’ve been the one down there with him day after day for the past two months. Allowing him off of the chains will help me get more data on him, I could see how he moves around and how it affects his behaviors. If the situation becomes too dangerous, then by all means, put him back on them. But please, let me just try.”

There’s a minute where nothing happens, where Hux doesn’t speak and instead just stares at you with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. It’s like you can see the way his brain is turning, thinking about all the results you’ve been able to get him. It works in your favor because he pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a loud sigh. “You know what? Fine. I’ll sign my approval. I expect you to know what the fuck you’re doing.”

You smile despite yourself. “Thank you, sir.”

He waves a gloved hand, a glower still stuck on his face. “Don’t thank me. Just go home, doctor, before I change my mind.”

You dip your head, not one to disobey on something like that. “Of course. Goodnight, sir.”

You turn and leave Hux’s office, waves of accomplishment rippling through your body and adding an extra spring to your step. Removing the chains was something you’d been debating on for the past few weeks, wondering if it would even be a good idea to ask with the high possibility of getting denied immediately and raising suspicion. But because it was Kylo, you knew you at least had to try. You saw the way the chains inhibited him day after day, making him unable to stand properly and getting twisted around his limbs. You also saw how the cuffs rubbed the skin beneath raw, causing him pain every time he moved. The fact that they’ll be removed brings you relief.

You think about him as you get into your car, as you start the engine and follow the roads home. You find yourself doing that more and more frequently, ever since you’ve gotten to know him. You refuse to admit to yourself that honestly, he’s all you’ve been able to think about. Even when you’re at home on days off, you wonder about how or what Kylo’s doing. You also have an incessant, irrational fear in the back of your mind that worries about anyone else working on him or bothering him when you’re away. You always brush off those particular thoughts with the reminder that you’re still the only faculty member with clearance.

You’ve been pleased to learn that Kylo is a surprisingly agreeable individual. He’s rough around the edges, he’ll still snap or snarl or threaten you on occasion, but you were able to dig deep enough to find that softer center. He answers your questions with a relative willingness and he seems as fascinated by you as you are of him. He watches you with such intrigue, eyes always roaming over your figure and his body leaning forward to try and see what you’re doing.

You feel like you know a lot of what there is to know about Kylo. You can’t ask him normal ice-breaker questions like “what’s your favorite song?” or “what shows do you like?” because he’s lived in the woods as an animal most of his life; he told you plenty about the different kinds of vegetation and trees he’d come across though. So instead he asks you those questions, listening as you ramble on about things you’ve wanted to get off your chest but haven’t had anyone to do so with. Kylo is the perfect partner for that, with the way he looks so invested in your words and voice. It’s made your cheeks heat up more than a few times.

Every day, you’ve taken another step closer to that glass wall that separates the two of you. It’s like a trust exercise, seeing if Kylo will growl at you again like he did that first day when you got too close. He hasn’t so far, instead just tilting his head in curiosity as he watches you settle in your new spot. Seeing him get closer, become clearer to you, has a voice whispering in the back of your mind about how dangerous he is, telling you to stay back. But then there’s a different voice, a louder voice, that lures you in as it tells you of his beauty and strength, as it tugs on some string that feels like it’s connected to him.

It’s all so strange, and you ponder over it while you eat your dinner, while you shower off the grime of the day, while you get cozy in your bed. Just like all the nights before, you’re still thinking about Kylo even as you fall asleep.

» ☆ «

Nervous energy buzzes beneath your skin when you walk in to work the next morning. If Hux is true to his word, Kylo should be off the chains. You wonder about it as you walk down the familiar halls, as you go down the elevator. There’s a sheen of sweat that coats your palms, so reminiscent of the first time you did all this. You’ve always hated the way anxiety eats at you any time something new happens, even if you’re the reason behind it.

You follow the path you’ve gone down every day for the past two, now almost three, months. You use your badge to open that last door. Your breath gets stuck in your chest as you step into the room.

Feet ahead, behind that glass wall, Kylo is standing. He’s finally standing, his big form stretched to its full height. Even from where you’ve paused at the door, you can see how tall he is. You’re not ashamed of your own height, being just above the usual average, but it feels like nothing compared to him. Just his broad chest moves as he breathes, the rest of him motionless while he stares down at the chains that now lay useless on the floor, like he was only just freed before you got there. You can see the marks that they left on him, the imprints those heavy shackles rubbed into raw skin. It makes you wince.

Kylo finally notices you, head turning to where you still stand frozen in your awe. When your eyes meet, it feels like your world gets flipped on its axis, like everything just shifted in a different direction. There’s an unnamed emotion that wells in your chest and you can see it reflected in his brown irises. There’s something that’s tied you together, something so inexplicable and strong you think if you reach out you can touch it. It makes you feel completed when you’re both in the same room, and it makes you feel like you’re missing a second half of yourself when you aren’t. It’s driven you crazy for the last few months because you’ve never been able to figure it out, never been able to get your hands around it; it’s tortured you day and night and you hated it. But now you feel it so strongly and deeply in your bones that it makes you stumble forward a step, realization hitting you like a truck.

Kylo sees it, he knows. “Come here.” He says, voice deep and rich with command.

You obey, not even giving yourself a choice in the matter as you follow that strong pull that brings you towards him. That rational part of you that would normally shout at you to stay back is silent now as you step closer than you ever have before. You’re slow and cautious as you make your way to that pane of glass, and so is he—until there’s less than a foot of space separating the two of you.

He’s huge. He towers over you, making you crane your neck to be able to look at his face. Every part of his body is so much bigger than yours it’s a little jarring—and insulting. You can finally see him up close, you can finally see all those little freckles and moles dotting his skin like constellations, all the different and pretty shades of brown that swim in his eyes. It’s strange, what you feel in that moment. It’d be more terrifying than anything if you didn’t know that he’s experiencing the same thing, that you’re not alone; you can sense it like it’s your own. The puzzle pieces that are your lives snap together, the knot of the string that ties you to one another is pulled tight and secure. It makes you feel lightheaded, none of it truly making any sense.

Kylo puts his clawed hand against the glass, looking at you with a hint of desperation. You match him, your own hand seeming small in comparison. “You feel it, don’t you? Don’t be afraid, I feel it too.” He whispers to you, shivers running down your spine. He rests his forehead on the divider, shutting his eyes briefly. “Help me. Please.”

Your body quivers, bottom lip trembling from your nerves. It’s all so much. When you look at him, all of him—with the fluffy ears on his head and the slowly wagging tail protruding from his spine, you realize there’s something else inside of you. Something even deeper than a bond that stretches across the different planes of existence. It feels like a second self, like there’s an entirely different version of yourself you’ve never met before because it got buried so far down within you. It’s waking up now, akin to an animal coming out of its hibernation. It feels feral and raw and violent, it feels like him; a kindred spirit from a wilderness you don’t understand. But he does.

“I can help you. I can show you.” Kylo promises, and everything in you wants to believe him. “You have to get me out.”

Your breaths have become short, you heart beating a little faster between your ribs. You know how you look when you meet his gaze again; your unsure, frightened eyes roving back and forth across his face, your brows creased, a downward tug on your lips. “I.. I don’t… I can’t-“ Your words don’t make any sense, you can’t push them out in the right order. You can’t think straight, every thought flying around your brain at a mile a minute so you can’t grab any of them. The sweat on your palm leaves an impression on the glass. You take a step back and it tears you apart, every instinct in you telling to retract the action and go back to him but… but it doesn’t make any sense.

This shouldn’t be real, this shouldn’t be happening. God, this was all just some stupid research assignment. Frustrated tears spring into your eyes, which only serves to upset you more. This isn’t something worth crying over, you don’t cry like this. But it feels like everything you’ve known, the familiarity of your life before this, has been uprooted and ruined. Through your blurred vision you can see how Kylo reacts, the way his ears lower against his hair in remorse, tail tucking close to his legs. He wants nothing more than to comfort you, and you can’t bear the thought.

How else are you supposed to react when it feels like your mind is split between two different people?

You don’t even realize what you’re doing until the door is shutting behind you and you’re hurrying down those sterile hallways, wiping furiously at your eyes.

» ☆ «

You’d gone home early. You’d told the superior on duty that you didn’t feel well, and they’d sent you off with a wave of their hand.

You’d spent the rest of your time walking through your home like a ghost, both there but also not. Your other half was still at the facility, still in that room, staring through that glass panel. You could feel it, incessant and inescapable, even as you tried to block it out by burying yourself beneath a pound of blankets. You knew you’d come to terms with it in a short while, the logical part of your brain always able to come out on top. You just needed to wallow for a little bit, get used to the life-changing revelations and constant stimulation of your mind being stuck in two different places.

You ran over what you experienced again and again in your head, trying to figure out what it was, what it could mean. You’ve never heard of a phenomenon like it before, never seen it documented in research papers. What do you call it when you feel so fundamentally complete when you’re with somebody, like the universe created the two of you specifically for each other? It sounds silly and like a cheesy trope you’d see in a romance novel—definitely not something meant to be in your own life.

It had you researching for the remainder of the night, and it’s what led you to see the message waiting for you in your inbox from Hux.

I want to see you in my office first thing tomorrow morning. There’s a discussion I need to have with you about your project.

- Armitage Hux

That added on to your list of things robbing you of sleep, but you still managed to get out of bed and get dressed with shaking hands the next morning. That’s how you find yourself outside of Hux’s office door. You hesitate before knocking twice.

“Come in.” His voice drawls from the other side. You take a deep breath, steeling your nerves as you open the door into the familiar office. Hux says your name as a greeting. “I’m glad to see you got my email. Have a seat, please.”

You follow his instructions, sinking into the plush chair across from his desk and folding your hands tightly in your lap. “I.. don’t know what this is about, sir, but I can assure you everything is going smoothly.”

Hux hums in thought as he shuffles a stack of papers to the side. “Perhaps that’s the problem.” He mutters. Cold eyes meet yours, so jarringly different from the warmth in Kylo’s. “I’ve had something brought to my attention, doctor. One of the nutritionists on this project mentioned something interesting to me, they said that this… creature is able to speak… they even saw you communicating with it. But it’s curious, because I don’t recall reading anything about that in your own reports.”

Your blood runs cold, body stiffening as fear licks through you. “Sir, I- I didn’t-“ You stumble over words that feel too heavy in your mouth. You can’t think of a way you could cover your ass because saying your true reasoning of wanting to protect Kylo definitely wouldn’t do you any favors. You inwardly curse your track record of being horrible under pressure.

That tells him everything he needs to know and your wide eyes track him as he moves to stand. He nods along to his own thoughts. “Withholding information is a terminable offense, doctor, especially to this degree. You were given this assignment with full trust from the Agency that you would present all information in an honest manner, you signed the forms.” He says, clearly enjoying the way your face falls. “It’s been decided that you’ll be let go from First Order Agencies, effective immediately. Your badges will be disabled, and we expect your office to be cleared of anything important by ten AM. You’ll be notified of further procedure from there.”

You find your body jumping out of your chair, hands slamming down on the dark wood of Hux’s desk. He looks you over with an upturned lip and distaste at your actions, but you can’t find that you care in the moment. You don’t even really care that you just lost your job when there’s something else occupying every square inch of your mind. “What are you going to do with Kylo?” You demand.

“Oh, so it has a name too. How cute.” Hux taunts. “Your project will be transferred to another facility first thing tomorrow morning. You can’t provide any further insight on that creature, even if we ignore your misconducts. New tests will be conducted, they’ll make sure to get everything they can out of it. You’ve dug deep enough, I’m sure you know exactly what happens to werewolves.”

That word sends a jolt through you. So he knew. He knew about the gruesome history of what Kylo is, of what runs in his blood. Hux knew that Kylo is no different than himself or you, he knew that and still treated him no better than an animal. It’s like everything you worked for, every document you submitted, is thrown back in your face—it was all meaningless. It also makes you afraid, knowing how little they hesitate to sentence an innocent human to death in the name of a scientific study.

Hux glances at the clock on the wall. “Now you better hurry along, doctor, you only have an hour left to clean out your office.”

You can’t do much else other than obey. You know the decision is final, you know he won’t hesitate to call security on you. Air blows through your nostrils as some way to redirect your anger, wishing you could punch the redhead. You settle with something else instead, something you’ve been wanting to tell him for years. “Go fuck yourself.”

The smile Hux gives you as you leave his office is nothing short of cruel.

» ☆ «

You don’t know what the fuck you’re doing.

You don’t know how you got here—sneaking back into your former workplace at 1:14 AM. It’s like some otherworldly force was compelling you, and you had no choice but to listen to it.

Your hands are shaking violently when you use them to open the front doors. Your badge may have been deactivated, but you had other ways to get into the building. There was a trick an old coworker showed you when you both were locked out of the facility because you both forgot your badges that day; she said the trick was easier than trying to call and waiting for someone to verify you and let you in. There’s a way you can mess up the sensors on the scanners so it believes there’s a valid badge ID, and that’s what you do to slip inside. You’re thanking the gods that it actually worked, and you’re thanking that coworker who’d gotten fired a week later.

The main halls are void of life and dimly lit, with only the occasional fluorescent overhead light still on. Your hurried footsteps sound far too loud in the silence, your heartbeat pounds in your ears. You make it to the elevator without issue and you spend the entire ride clenching and unclenching your hands at your side, blowing out deep breaths with every interval. This is right. This is the right thing to do. It just might get you arrested or killed but that’s… you choose not to think about it.

The elevator reaches its destination with a ding, the doors sliding open into white hallways that have never been so intimidating before. Your body trembles, your mind is screaming at you, but you know this is what needs to be done. Every step you take feels like another step in the right direction, like it eases the weight off your shoulders. You can feel your nerves steeling themselves the further you go, as if someone else entirely—someone far more confident—is taking control of you. Instead of terrified, you just feel angry. Angry at Hux for doing this to you and to Kylo, angry at the Agency, at everyone who forced werewolves to basically go extinct. It’s all fucked up and you wish you could do more, but for now you can settle with saving at least one.

You reach that final door and you use your trick to break the sensors, successfully unlocking it. The door swings open harshly and as you step inside the observation room, you’re met with an unfamiliar sight. There’s two guards standing right against the glass panel; they’re clad in black padded armor, helmets sitting on top of their heads, guns at their hips. Hell, maybe Hux suspected you would try something and that’s what they’re here for. He wasn’t wrong, you’ll give him that.

The guards snap to attention when you enter. You can see Kylo behind them, ears perked in interest and staring directly at you. You feel something travel across that invisible thread between you, and it feels so right. It gives you the confidence you need. “Excuse me, you’re not authorized to be in here.” One of the guards says roughly, moving to take a step closer to you. “You need to leave now or I’ll have to-“

You’re lunging before you can even fully comprehend what you’re doing. Your limbs don’t feel like your own, it’s like you’re watching from outside of your own body, kicked from the pilots chair. There’s a strength you don’t recognize that you use to grab on to the guard, shoving him back and overpowering him with an ease that shouldn’t be allowed for someone like you. You don’t even know how to describe it, you just feel… feral, angry and vicious. If you could see yourself you’d see your pupils thinned to slits like an animal. The guard chokes when you grip his neck, swinging him and slamming his head repeatedly into the glass pane. He slumps to the ground not a second later.

The element of surprise had greatly assisted you, but now that it’s gone, you’re left vulnerable. That strength that had taken over you has fizzled out, slinking away into the dark recesses of yourself for you to have to try and find again. But you can’t, because the other guard is on you now. He’s bigger than the first, taller and stockier, muscle cording through his arms. You feel those muscles when he uses them to connect a fist with your face and pin you against the wall, his forearm firm on your neck. Fuck.

He snarls at you, pressing in harder. You try to claw at his arm, you try to kick your legs, but it doesn’t make him move an inch. He’s like a brick wall and you have no way of breaking it. You can feel your chest constrict as you’re robbed of air, your lungs struggling to draw breath while your ears begin to ring. You punch and punch and punch again—nothing works. Your vision swims. You feel the dull throb in your knuckles from the reinforced padded armor that makes the guard immune to your adrenaline-fueled attacks. Your eyes lock onto that pistol he has on his belt, it’s your best bet if you could just reach around him and grab it. Your head feels like it’s about to pop, you feel blood begin to dribble from your nose and you’re able to taste it as it drips across your lips. The gun, the gun, the gun- There’s a steady thudding noise, you don’t know where it’s coming from. It might be coming from inside your own head, you don’t know. You can barely think, your brain practically shutting itself down. Your fingers just barely graze the handle but it’s not enough, shit, it’s not enough. Your eyes roll and your body goes limp.

Next thing you know, there’s a deep voice calling your name and a warm hand on your cheek. You take a gasping breath, sputtering around the pain in your throat as your eyes clear and the ringing in your ears finally stops. You see Kylo above you, massive body hunched so he can meet your gaze, worry etching his features. That’s when you notice that there’s blood on his hands, the lights of the facility are flashing red, the alarm is blaring, and the guard who had you pinned is laying decapitated to your left. Looking behind Kylo, you’re startled to see that the glass wall is in pieces. He fucking shattered it—that’s what that thudding sound was. Him hitting the glass again and again in time with your own punches to the guard.

You give yourself only a second to take everything in. Kylo’s actually in front of you. He’s really here, and he’s touching you. It sends a shiver down your spine, sparks tingling beneath your skin. There’s an excited buzzing in the back of your mind, but you don’t have time to linger on those feelings, on him. The alarms are going off and you know it’s only a matter of time before there’s more people down here to kill you both. Even though it feels wrong, you push Kylo off of you so that you can stand. You stumble as your head spins, still trying to recover from getting choked of all your oxygen, and you have to wave Kylo off again as he tries to help you.

You attempt to ignore the blood and gore splattered across the white floors as you step carefully around it to pluck the pistol off the guard. Nausea rolls in your stomach when you accidentally glance at his torn neck, knowing it’s Kylo’s claws that did the damage. You take one of the spare bullet canisters, tucking that and the gun into your belt. Kylo looks tense, muscles bunched beneath his skin and his tail puffed up a size larger than usual. His ears keep swiveling forwards and back, moving to the sounds of the alarm screaming overhead—his ears are probably far more sensitive than your own. You know that it’s blaring through the entire facility, as are the flashing red lights. Everybody will know that there was a security breach.

“Follow me. We can get out through this level.” You practically yell over the alarm. He nods, eager to follow your lead and get out of this prison.

You briefly check your surroundings when you open the door. All clear. You both dart out and you don’t have to worry about Kylo keeping up, he’s right at your heels. He’d run right by you if he didn’t need you to show him the way. You hurry down the halls, careful not to slip as you round sharp corners and burst through doors. You’re scared, yes, but you feel alive. Energy courses through your body like it would a live wire, spurring you forward with Kylo now with you at last. It feels freeing and like everything is finally coming together, even as you’re effectively leaving your entire old life behind.

You come upon a final set of heavy-duty double doors that lead into a tunnel for transports to drive through. It’s what they used to get Kylo in here in the first place. You have to use the strength of your shoulder and a little extra push from Kylo to be able to shove the door open. The tunnel that you run into is dark, becoming nearly pitch black when the lights periodically flicker out with the alarms. You squint against the red lighting, trying to see what’s ahead.

There’s angry shouts, there’s the sound of multiple sets of footsteps, and you know that there’s guards waiting for you. The number of them is nothing to scoff at, many of them being deployed after the alarm started going off. They congregate at the exits so that nothing gets out, or so that they can kill whatever tries. It won’t be easy—or so you think.

Before you have a chance to draw your new gun, Kylo rushes ahead of you faster than you can blink. He’s finally out of his cage, he’s finally free, and he’s relishing in it. He wants to make sure these people know he will never go back. He moves so quick that the guards don’t even get the opportunity to fire off bullets and you merely watch the way his muscles move, his hands slashing with ferocity and a violent grace. The lights flash and when they come back on, there’s a body on the floor.

Flash. Another. Flash. Two more.

The pattern continues until Kylo is the only one left standing. His body heaves, the blood shines on him. He looks terrifying like that, massive form doused in red and shadow, towering over all these dead bodies that he’s ripped through with his own teeth and claws, eyes wild. You run right to him, a sense of awe filling you. He’s definitely not something to be messed with, and you love it. You realize how big of a fool Hux was for thinking he could contain Kylo. His hand is slick with blood when you take it, but it only makes you tighten your grip.

You keep running, pushing past the stench of iron that assaults your senses. The tunnel slopes up and up and up and you follow the path, the alarm steadily getting quieter the further you get. The end of the tunnel gets closer and closer, until you stop at the garage doors. You pause there, puffing breath in and out of your mouth, your body throbbing with the adrenaline. You spare a glance at Kylo, your beautiful monster covered in the blood his captors, and you can feel that this is right where you’re supposed to be. You hit the hatch release button.

The garage door groans as it scrapes on metallic hinges, slowly opening until there’s a wide enough gap for the both of you to slip under it. Fresh, cold night air hits you in the face and you gladly inhale it, washing the smell of blood out of your system. You look to Kylo again, as if making sure he’s still there, and the expression on his face is something you’ll remember for a long time. His eyes are wide, face frozen in what could only be described as shock. You have to remind yourself that he’s been stuck down in the depths of a government facility for the past nearly three months with only white walls to keep him company. You can’t even begin to imagine what he’s feeling.

You have to interrupt though, knowing every second right now is vital. “Come on, my car is just around the corner.”

You begin to walk, but he doesn’t follow. He’s staring into the woods that surround the building, the tip of his tail twitching as he takes a small step forward. He wants nothing more than to go in there, to return to his wolf form and run and run and run. It’s odd that you can feel it too, that primal longing calling you to the wilderness, like there’s something just like him inside of you banging against its cage to get out. You shove it down, you force it back because you really cannot deal with that at the moment. You know you’d just get caught again if you go into those woods. “Kylo,” you hiss and grab his arm, “we need to go.”

Your touch snaps him out of his trance, bringing him back to you. He follows you now around the outer edges of the facility, ever so faintly being able to hear the alarm going off inside. You make it to the parking lot and your less-than-stellar Nissan Sentra, the thing a bit old but it’s always been reliable. You rip open the passenger side door, motioning for Kylo to get in. He hesitates, clearly unnerved by the vehicle, so you resort to shoving him in. He hunches in the front seat, obviously not accustomed to the small space that he doesn’t really fit inside of. You run to the driver’s side, throwing yourself into your seat and shoving the keys in the ignition.

As your car roars to life and you whip out of the parking lot, the facility quickly getting smaller behind you and Kylo sitting next to you, you make the decision that you’re never going to look back.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

Tags (comment if you’d like to be tagged next time!); @coldheartedmar @hazydespair @bullet-clubs-bitch @paristheonewhoreads

⇦ Part 2

[sorcerersseestars]

 his eyes, your ears [part iv]

series masterlist

Gojo Satoru x reader

summary: There was a time when you called him best friend, but those days escaped you long ago. There’s no way he’s alive – right? With the depth of his betrayal still lingering in your heart and mind, what would his reappearance spell for your life?

pairing: gojo satoru x gn! reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort

fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

warnings: cursing, lowkey a little mental torture, TW! s*xual a*sault (forced kiss), violence!!, one instance of vomiting (sry), immoral and creepy Geto, reader is kinda anxious nonstop (like writer like reader?), some details are non-canon (a/n 2.0 at end explains), also it’s slow for the first half but picks up I promise, I think I made Geto sound British???, also I made Hanami act like a mom kinda 💀 uh…im going to call it comic relief?

word count: 6.7k. oof.

a/n: I am literally SO SORRY that this has been sitting in my drafts for so long but… life happens! Along those lines – I wrote 1/2 of this in September and 1/2 of it in May, so it might be a bit disjointed sorryyy hehe

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“Then you’ll have to live with disappointment,” He flashes you an all-too-pleased-with-himself smile. “Becaaause it’s totally permanently in your phone now.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, right. As if I wouldn’t be able to delete a contact.”

He has a devilish smirk on his face, but his voice is annoyingly innocent and cheerful. “Go ahead, try!”

You gasp. “Gojo! Did you jailbreak my new phone?!”

“Uh, uh! That not what my contact reads as!” He snatches your phone from your hands, and points a large finger to the tiny name on your screen. “It’s ‘My Beloved Best Friend Satoru’!”

“Satoru,” You say dangerously. “Erase this or I’ll erase you from existence.”

He chuckles. “Oh, I’d love to see you try. You’re cute when you try to beat me.”

Your mouth opens and closes as you try to find words, and you try to ignore the heat on your cheeks. “S-Satoru! You asshole, give me my phone back!”

He holds it high above your head, a wide smile lingering on his face. He’s having way too much fun with this. You jump, trying to swat it out of his hand, but to no avail.

“Why did you even do this?” You grumble, sighing. “What, is it ‘how many ways can I torture (Y/N) in the span of a few hours’ day?”

He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re weak, remember? You gotta have me on speed dial if you want to survive in this line of work.”

First, your eyes widen at his blunt statement. Then you sigh again, this time a bit sadly. “Wow, you have so much faith in me…thanks.”

“You never know what’s out there,” Gojo says. “If you ever have any trouble, call me.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “Is this a prank? I thought you hated ‘helping the weak’.”

“I’m serious, (Y/N),” He says firmly. “I’ll always pick up. Abuse the privilege, whatever, I don’t care. Just don’t die.”

Your head snaps towards him, mouth hanging open with shock. “Satoru, what…? I’m not going to…”

You fall silent. There’s no guarantee of that.

He steps closer to you, closer than what you’d consider friendly. Your heart skips a beat.

“Just do it, okay? I’ll always be on the other end.”

Always, huh? But now…

Ring, ring, ring. You bite your lip, pressing your phone hard against your ear, as if his voice will appear if you wish it enough. Ring, ring, ring.

“Please…” You whisper. “Come on, come on.”

Your breath hitches as the distinctive timbre of Satoru’s voice fills your ear, but your shoulders fall almost immediately.

“Hey, sorry I’ve missed your call! If you close your eyes, recite my name five times, and spin around twice, I might get back to ya! No exceptions – not even–”

You sigh and hang up before you’re put through to voice mail. It’s not like he’ll listen to it, anyway.

He’s been avoiding you. You haven’t seen him for days – six, to be exact. It’s been five days since Shoko deemed you well enough to recover at home, despite the worryingly slow rate that your cursed energy has been returning. You were released with the promise you wouldn’t exert yourself and absolutely would not use any cursed energy. All the while, you had childishly held two crossed fingers behind your back – your promise was as empty as you felt.

You should have expected this; this shouldn’t hurt so much. Gojo is the strongest sorcerer the world has seen for hundreds of years. He never runs from his foes – he doesn’t need to. When it comes to facing emotions, however, he is all but mighty. Whenever his emotions run high, overflowing until they begin to leak out into broad daylight, he turns tail and practically erases himself from existence. It’s nearly impossible to find him – he mysteriously leaves no trace, even for an experienced tracker like you.

You left Shoko with an empty smile and promise, and Gojo has done just the same. Despite him swearing that he’d be back to see you, Gojo is nowhere to be found. You’ve dropped by at the school multiple times, even asking his students if they knew of his whereabouts, but nobody has been able to give you an answer.

He’s been dodging your calls, letting it ring until his chirpy voicemail message mocks you. The text messages you leave go unread, unopened.

When you hopelessly reopen your chat with him, you can’t help but bite yoru nails as you stare at the wall of blue on your screen. Message after message – unfinished thoughts, apologies, words full of urgency and desperation – are left by trembling hands bloodied by your own worry.

‘I’m the strongest,’ He always says, so why does fear spike in your veins at the thought of Geto finding him? 

Even though his own arrogant words ring through your head, you can’t quell the anxiety that threatens to wreak havoc over your fragile state. You’re worried, so worried, and it bleeds into the rest of your life: you’re all over the place, constantly forgetting appointments and important items, you are inexplicably tense, your breathing is constantly shallow and quick; you’re barely holding yourself together.

A few days ago, you had your meeting with Yaga, alone, which went just as horribly as you could have imagined, but you were thankfully spared contact with the higher-ups due to your condition.

But you’re almost all better now – at least physically. That’s why you’re back again, ready for another round of manipulation and abuse.

You’re out of it, so out of it. Your eyes are glazed over, and nothing they say registers in your mind. Even when you try to focus on the words leaving their mouths, your brain filters it all back into mindless noise.

There’s a sequence of very familiar syllables: ah, your name is being shouted. You look up with empty eyes, blinking slowly.

“Useless sorcerer, answer me, now!” Gakuganji roars. “You are testing our patience, and I’ve just about run out of it. Can you track him, or not?”

You breathe in shakily, and let out a weak, clueless, “What?”

“Track him, or they’re dead,” He spits. “Track Geto Suguru. Find him. We won’t wait long. If you haven’t reported back in a week, your parents won’t be able to enjoy their retirement any longer.”

Some of the other council members shift uncomfortably at his bluntness, but you barely even flinch.

You’re so tired of it all. You almost wish you had encouraged Gojo to just off them once and for all.

“Okay,” You mumble softly, lacking the energy to project your voice. “I can do it. I will track Geto Suguru.”

You drag yourself out without acknowledging them, without any show of respect, but the thought of caring is lost on you. Your apathy leaves a trail of displeased whispers, but you don’t even notice.

You speed-dial his number again and again and again, and are returned with nothing but the taunt of his cheerfully recorded memo.

When you finally look away from his contact info burning your retinas, your gaze is trained on the clear sky. It shouldn’t be so vivid, shouldn’t be so beautiful – today should be overcast and rainy. You can’t help but frown, but your eyes remain on the heavens.

Then you’re granted a sight that usually coaxes a smile out of you no matter how you feel: a particularly large gust of wind lays out a collection of reddening autumn leaves against the azure sky. They swirl and dance in the breeze, hovering in your field of vision for a few more moments before they are whipped away. 

It’s a sign of the changing of seasons – it has always been one of your favorite times of the year, especially during your years at Tokyo Jujutsu High. The rapid approach of the holidays and the time spent training with your classmates in the chilly air has always enlivened you.

Today, this sight drives fat tears to roll down your cheeks. It just serves to remind you of the juxtaposition between those blissful times and these turbulent times: the weight of Geto’s betrayal, his subsequent death, his impossible revival.

You turn your head to the side, eyes tracking the leaves as they dance into the distance. 

“So I’m really doing this then,” You whisper to yourself. “Yeah, guess I am. You’re not here to stop me…”

They’re far from Tokyo, much further than they were before. That much is obvious from the start, when you first scour for their residuals. After a disappointing first try by Jujutsu High - you shouldn’t expected much, anyway - you decide to return to their last known location: the forest you nearly were obliterated in. You dread returning there, but you have little choice unless you want to do a whole lot of guesswork.

You drive yourself there. Usually, you would be accompanied by your usual driver Ijichi, but the thought of asking him didn’t even cross your mind. In the eyes of the Jujutsu world, this is a suicide mission. You’re well aware of that: so why involve anyway else unnecessarily, risking innocent lives?

You’re grateful for the calming scenery that blurs by: miles and miles of inhabited land, solely occupied by woodland’s creatures. Hardly any curses are present in the countryside, as there are no humans to feed off of. Those special grades you faced were certainly the exception.

You pull over to the edge of the forest once you sense a steady stream of cursed energy. The residual energy is at least a week old - just around the time of your unfortunate encounter with them. You close your eyes and carefully sift through all of the cursed energy signatures left behind, immediately identifying Hanami’s and Jogo’s faint residuals. There’s one stronger energy, and very familiar: Satoru’s cursed energy.

His cursed energy is so easy to pick out, no matter where you are. It’s so bright and lively, practically humming under your fingers every time you sense it, almost as if it were your own.

But there’s a shadow – his energy shadows another. You concentrate, sensing an underlying current of a more recent energy. Your eyes fly open, startled by your discovery. It is much fresher than the others: the residuals are only a few days old.

Its signature is both unknown and yet alarmingly familiar. It’s dark, so dark. Its energy chokes you, holds you hostage with the way it starts to stick to you and steal your courage with its oppressiveness. You’ve never felt an energy quite like this, yet it feels all too familiar.

You begin to shake, the reality sinking in. “Geto…. Just what have you become?”

You shakily clamber back into the driver’s seat, firmly gripping the steering wheel with sweaty hands. Geto was here. Geto knows that you and Satoru were in the same vicinity as Jogo and Hanami. There’s absolutely no way he doesn’t know — you carelessly hadn’t wiped your residuals or even tried to cover your tracks.

You step on the gas. You keep your cursed energy flowing as you speed down the road, revealing a murky trail of residuals to follow. His cursed energy is so distinctly foul that you can pick it out from the rest with little effort. It’s overwhelming and makes you nauseous. Cursed with a twist of familiarity – a sickening combination.

Your mind begins to race. Is this how Gojo felt back then? No, it must have been so much worse, tracking one of your soulmates down with the intent to…to kill. And now you’re being forced to track him down again, just so the higher-ups can order Gojo to repeat history, just so your best friends will be forced to fight until one is–

You jerk the steering wheel over, making for a rough pull-over job. You throw yourself out of the car as quickly as possible before retching your stomach’s contents out onto the dark pavement.

The old wounds in your heart flare up; you clutch your chest desperately.

You are not strong enough to protect your parents - but are you strong enough to survive the alternative, the reality you and Gojo can’t help but deny?

“I have to,” You whisper to yourself. “I have to do this. I have no power in this world, I’m not the strongest…so this is all I can do.”

And so you are off again, this time unwavering from the course you’re set on.

By the time you reach Kyoto, an untimely five hours of panicked driving later, their residuals are so apparent that you hardly have to try. It’s almost as if they’re luring you in, the most sensitive tracker known in the Jujutsu world; why else would they leave behind such obvious traces of their cursed energy?

You ignore your instincts that scream for you to turn back, and instead continue into the outskirts of the most outer part of the residential areas – the residuals lead you far from the city itself.

As you venture further into the countryside, your stomach begins to clench. The residuals are much stronger now, but not alarmingly so. They should still be miles and miles out, perhaps 40 or 50 – there should be enough distance to not alert them of your presence. However, as a precaution, you stretch your hearing beyond the range of any normal human. You still feel unsettled, even with the extra layer of protection.

This is dumb. This is a terrible idea. Yet, you keep your foot firmly on the gas pedal.

You are suddenly flooded with an overwhelming wave of noise. Your brain barely has a second to process what your ears pick up: the roar of an object hurtling towards your car. You swerve to the roadside, and you’re barely fast enough: the driver’s side door is nearly scraped off, and it begins to smolder.

It shouldn’t be possible. They shouldn’t be here. Not again.

Running on pure adrenaline, you rip your seatbelt off and throw yourself to the passenger’s side door, seeking an escape from the next impending strike. Your hearing is more sensitive from your frenzied state, and you hear the next meteor much earlier this time. You rely on your hearing, on your hearing only: it will tell you where to dodge.

You climb out of the car, wheezing on smoke and fumes, and take off running. You gasp at the sound of the next meteor closing in on you and quickly dive away, throwing yourself to the ground and covering your head with your hands. The explosion is so intense that even after reducing your hearing, you feel the shock reverberate through your body and overpower any other sensation you feel.

After the ringing in your ears lets up for a moment, you finally feel the aftermath of the blast: shards of heated rock are embedded in your side, scorching your skin. There’s no time to even think about it: you’re up and running away from the voices that soon enter your hearing.

“You imbecile! Do you always have to do the opposite of what you’ve been ordered?” The grating tones of Hanami enter your ears as he hisses at Jogo. “He said captured alive! Or would you rather face his wrath?”

Captured? So they had been expecting your arrival; it was a trap all along.

“Relax, I haven’t even made a scratch yet!” Jogo shouts back.

“You’re embarrassing yourself in many ways,��� Hanami scoffs. “If your intention was to kill, I will begin to further doubt your abilities. I already had to rescue you from that sorcerer, or has your pea-brain already forgotten that failure after it fell off of your body?”

“Shut up already,” Jogo growls. “I got it, okay?”

You truly don’t know what to do. Your last encounter made it very clear that you are solely a tracker with limited offensive ability. Hell, you didn’t even try last time because you knew it be to utterly pointless – the result would turn out no better if you tried now. Two special grades against a Grade 1 sorcerer with Grade 2 offensive abilities? You don’t stand a chance in that regard.

They’re in too close of proximity to disguise your presence – cutting off your cursed energy would be pointless. There’s only one other trick up your sleeve to increase your chances of surviving if they do decide to attack again.

You feel their cursed energies so much more clearly – when you steal a glance behind yourself, you can faintly see them in the distance. Not good.

Jogo suddenly barks out a laugh. “Boss never said we couldn’t rough anybody up though, did he? Got you there, dumbass! Don’t try to stop me!”

Really not good.

There’s a sudden spike in cursed energy – and that energy is heading straight for you. You try to dodge, but your reaction is too late. You feel the heat even before the impact, and you decide you definitely need to utilize your other ability. It’s not perfect, nor is it a full-fledged technique yet, but you have little choice but to use it now.

You concentrate all your energy into the side that will take the hit, and imagine an impenetrable wall. You think of Gojo’s Infinity: the space that can never crossed, no matter how much force is exerted. You don’t have the ability to manipulate space like Gojo, but your shield imitates his impenetrability.

Jogo’s fiery body slams into your side. Your breath is instantly knocked out of you, and the searing pain returns. Your shield absorbs the brunt of the strike, but you’re still knocked back at least thirty feet. You tumble into the undergrowth, your back squarely hitting a tree in your path.

You can’t stop the howl that escapes your lungs, and the ragged breathing that follows.

“They tried to stop it! It wasn’t even a fraction of my power and they couldn’t stop it! And you’re telling me that Gojo Satoru is interested in them?” Jogo howls in laughter. “How pathetic!”

At your next blink, Jogo has materialized in front of you. You weakly stagger to the side, wanting to get away but knowing you can’t deep down. They’re just toying with you – if they decided to get rid of you, they’d be able to almost instantly.

Jogo shouts loudly, “So weak it makes me sick! You can only run away, huh? Boss is right – creatures like you are disgusting.”

He rushes forward again, and you rush to encase yourself in your imperfect shield. To your surprise, you are not struck down: instead, you’re…in his arms??

“Hanami! Since you won’t let me have anymore fun, I guess we should go back,” Jogo yells across the clearing to the other Special Grade.

A burst of petals flies past your eyes; Hanami emerges from a newly-grown patch of flowers. They don’t say anything, but they approach Jogo and stand right over his shoulder. Jogo eyes Hanami suspiciously.

“Why are you hovering over me?” Jogo grumbles. “Stay away, tree hugger.”

“It’s almost as if he knew you were going to pull this,” Hanami huffs. “There’s a reason I’ve been keeping an eye on you.”

“They’re alive, that was the only request. Did Boss put you up to that ‘good guy’ act, huh? Agh, such arrogant scum! Thinks he can tell me what to do?”

Despite your shield, Jogo’s heat begins to affect you. You cough violently, and when you glance at your hands you see rivulets of red.

“Yes, I think that’s accurate, considering you call him ‘Boss’. Now, hand them over before they go up in flames.”

Jogo grunts unhappily, but complies. You’re transferred to the rough bark limbs of the tree cursed spirit. Hanami sighs at the sight of your angry red burns, eyeing Jogo, “Such a barbaric curse…destructive to all life and environment.”

“HAH! You-!” Jogo guffaws. “I’ve see you uproot your own forests! Environmentally friendly my ass! Shut your trap.”

You wince from his loudness.

“So obnoxious, isn’t he? Well, you’re the lucky one here - you get to take a nap,” Hanami says. “Rest well before your…‘meeting’.”

Your pulse quickens at the expression on the curse’s face: a demented sort of excitement. There’s a sweet floral smell that falls over you, and then you begin to grow sleepy. Your eyelids start to flutter as you try to fight it – but you are eventually pulled deep into a dreamless sleep.

You are roused from your sleep by the touch of another. A hand on your forehead – a comforting presence. It’s warm, and familiar. You’re about to smile widely and look deep into his crystal eyes, but when your bleary eyes begin to focus, your heart stops.

There’s an easy, gentle smile on his face. His dark eyes shine brightly, but your own can’t help but drift to the obvious surgical scar running across his entire forehead.

Your reflexes kick in: you smack his hand away, rejecting the unwanted touch, and fall into a defensive stance. He lets out a hum of amusement, but otherwise does not react.

“My old friend,” Geto Suguru coos. “How wonderful it is to see you again. Never thought I’d be able to – what a gift your presence is, my dear.”

It’s then that you realize that you’re shaking; your chattering teeth render you unable to let any words out.

“Did Jogo and Hanami rough you up again? How rude of them,” He sighs. “But don’t be scared, it’s just your old friend Suguru.”

He stops to let his eyes roam over your hunched form. A sickening smirk spreads across his face – sickening because it’s just like the sweet smiles he used to give you.

“You know, you really are the best tracker around. I have to say, I’m quite impressed. Too bad I know all your little tricks, though. Did you like the surprise I set up especially for you?” He smirks. “It’s hard to catch such a talented tracker as you off guard, but I think I managed quite well. You didn’t detect a thing, did you? They were supposed to be much further away, I know…it’s fascinating, isn’t it, the feats you can achieve through sorcery?”

You only stare at him in horror.

“No? Well, I know at least Jogo enjoyed it,” He says with a soft laugh, but his next words cause icy chills to run down your spine. “But I think I enjoyed it the most. The look on your face…was perfect.”

Your stomach turns at his words. His gaze is even worse: there’s a hungry, disturbing glint to them. Your eyes flit from his sharp onyx eyes to his traditional wear: his inky yukata and gilded kasaya are elegant and beautiful, but emanate darkness.

“Forgot what I looked like? It has been a while, hasn’t it?” Geto smiles. His smile is soft and almost sweet, but out of place; its familiarity makes your stomach churn.

“You shouldn’t be here,” You finally speak, voice quiet and cracking. “You shouldn’t exist.”

“That’s a bit harsh, doll. I’m not the only one who doesn’t belong in this world,” He says, lip curled in disgust. “Monkeys roam the earth. That’s more of a disgrace than my existence…I hope you’d agree.”

You only manage to gasp out, “How are you even here?”

His eyes meet yours, crinkling in a dark sort of amusement. “You’d love to know, wouldn’t you? There’s a price to pay for that knowledge, doll.”

“You’d…Geto would never hurt me,” You whimper. “Never.”

Geto just smiles. “I wouldn’t? Maybe not.”

His piercing eyes seem to see stare right through you. “But what about my best friend?”

You freeze.

“Is that such an uncomfortable thought?” He chuckles a little too lightly. “Never thought about it even once? Not even after he killed me?”

He tuts at you, clicking his tongue. “Sweetheart, I knew you were blinded by him, but never to this degree. How low you have fallen…”

He moves closer. Your breath is trapped in your lungs and you can’t move.

“One toe out of line and you might end up like me. Don’t you see?” He shakes his head.

Hot anger flashes through you, and your tongue lashes out before you can think. “One toe out of line? No. No. You committed genocide. You murdered your entire family in the name of it. For what? A delusional dream?”

He sighs. “Of course. So brainwashed…you’re practically a monkey. How disappointing. You don’t get it, do you? I was apparently his everything, and look how I ended up.”

“You’re not Geto!” You cry out. “You can’t be.”

He laughs softly, but his gaze is razor-sharp. “Are you sure these aren’t Geto’s thoughts?”

You bite your lip in nervous thought. “Ge- you…why am I here?”

He ignores your question as he begins to circle you like a hawk, eyes sharp and hungry. “You know, you’re not quite what I imagined you to be.”

You take a few tentative steps back, trying to subtly increase the distance between you and the living corpse in front of you, but he strides over to your side when he notices.

“I’m just so curious,” He says, eyes raking over your figure. “You really are (Y/N), aren’t you? Fits the descriptions…”

The blood drains from your face. You back away from his seeking hands that threaten to touch you, to investigate you.

“There’s a disgusting amount of papers with your name written all over them – I don’t think Hanami would have liked me much before. Such a waste of stationery,” He says, his twisted smirk pulling shivers down your spine. “Why was I so fixated on you? You don’t look like anything special. Don’t tell me…I actually fell for someone as plain as you?”

“What?” You breathe out, eyes wide, mouth parted in surprise. “Geto, you…he…it wasn’t like that.”

“And you didn’t even know,” He coos in faux pity. “How cruel to find out in this way. Seems like you have only ever focused on my former equal. You only pay attention to the strongest – how shallow. What did I ever see in you?”

“I- that’s not-“ You try to form a sentence, deny it, say it’s not true because it truly isn’t, but your tongue and vocal chords won’t cooperate with you.

“When confronted with the truth, humans get tongue tied,” He smiles, voice dripping with mockery. “How precious. What a good little monkey you are – so unbearably typical, so exemplary of your species.”

“Stop,” You gasp out.

“What, sweets? Can’t handle the truth?”

“Don’t call me that,” You try to say with conviction, but it leaves you weakly and softly, almost a plea.

“What, you only like it when he calls you that?” He says with a dark chuckle. “How pathetic. How much has you brainwashed you into thinking he acutally wants anything to do with you? Gojo doesn’t like to get attached. And even when he does–”

He leans forward, invading your space, pressing up too closely to your body. “–sometimes you still end up dead.”

“Stop,” You beg. “Get away from me. You’re-you’re scaring me, Suguru.”

“Am I?” He smirks. “Oh, I’m sorry. I know what to do to make you forgive me, though. Used to work on Shoko, too.”

“No, stop!” You cry, ragged breaths leaving you. “This isn’t you, stop, please, stop!”

“You’re right,” He smiles wickedly, eyes dark. “It’s not.”

His lips meet yours. It burns your skin, but not pleasantly – it’s all wrong, and it hurts. You shove him away with as much force as you can, leaving him stumbling back a few paces. He laughs. He laughs.

“Wow, I’m impressed,” He chuckles, amused. “You’re stronger than you used to be. Maybe you actually live up to being Grade 1 now, huh?”

“Who are you?!” You cry out. “Why did you bring me here?”

“I’m Geto Suguru,” He says with a crazed smile. “Is it that hard to believe when my body was never retrieved?”

“What do you want from me?” You snarl, growing angry. “You’ve just been toying with me, you bastard. Trying to play all these mind games on me, leaving your dirty work to your underlings. None of it feels substantial enough to kidnap me.”

A cackle escapes Geto, “You’re right, it isn’t. By yourself, you aren’t of any interest to me. Just a memento of the past – I don’t have any use for you.”

He continues with a smirk, “I have to say though, your reactions have piqued my interest slightly. Jogo seems to feel the same way. Perhaps if you could be our little monkey for entertainment - it might keep Jogo out of trouble elsewhere.”

Reduced to entertainment.

“You’re sick,” You say, shaking your head.

“Hardly. It’s only natural treatment for someone so unimportant. Should I be frank?” He asks, touching his chin to mock contemplation. “You are here solely as means of luring him out.”

You break out in a cold sweat. It was as you suspected and feared: you are only bait. Bait for the strongest.

“He won’t come,” You declare. “This is pointless.”

“Do you take me as an idiot monkey?” Geto frowns. “You’re not the only one who can read residuals. He came last time, and he will come this time.”

“He doesn’t know,” You hiss. “He won’t come. He doesn’t want to see me right now.”

Geto only smiles. “He’ll come.”

His confidence scares you. Even though it would be very unlikely Gojo is even aware that you’re away on a mission, doubt still swirls in your gut. You don’t want him to walk into this trap – who knows what Geto has planned?

While you mull over your thoughts, Geto grows impatient.

“This is quite dull. Let’s test your strength, First Grader,” He smirks. “Maybe they’ll pass you to Special Grade if you can land a single hit.”

Suddenly, your breath is stolen from you. You double over in pain, caught off guard by the assault to your stomach. It was only a kick, but it was the hardest you’ve been hit in your entire life by another sorcerer.

“Silly me, I’ve forgotten my manners,” Geto says drily. “When harkening back to our school days, I must ask if you’re ready before we spar.

But don’t forget, the enemy won’t wait for you. Didn’t we learn that?”

Satoru’s words. He would often preemptively attack before the sparring session officially began, and he would always recite those exact words. You feel sick.

You don’t respond, knowing it would take away from your focus. Instead, you concentrate on pouring your cursed energy into your hearing technique.

He begins his initial assault: he’s extremely agile, and his punches and kicks seem to come out of thin air. You anticipate his attacks with your highly developed sense of hearing, listening for each twitch of his muscles and the roar of his appendages slashing through the air. Essentially, you read his moves before he has finished them. Your body can’t always keep up with your hearing enough to avoid him, though, but the blows are lessened by your half-developed shielding.

You haven’t attempted a single hit of your own – all your energy has gone into avoiding each of his potent attacks. Every time you see an opening, your chance is ruined by another attack of his.

After a few minutes of religiously defending, your senses slow. You can hear everything, but you can’t physically keep up with him. You begin to take hit after hit after hit – until you’re forced to retreat several paces back. Blood drips from your nose, spilling into your mouth and filling your mouth with the metallic tang of iron. It tastes of defeat and cowardice.

“Are you sure you’re not a monkey?” Geto roars in laughter. “To call you a sorcerer is sacrilegious at best. How disappointing you are. Haven’t improved an ounce since our days together, have you? Other than that half-baked excuse of a technique - trying to imitate the strongest, perhaps?”

You ignore his taunts, using the time to draw out two small daggers from your sleeves. You fare better with bows, but the twin blades are better than nothing.

“What cute little pocket knives,” Geto jeers. “They look sharp.”

“Want to find out?” You growl.

He scoffs. “I’d like to see you try.”

It is a dance that never ends – you are held captive by the need to defend yourself, not able to stop without the fear of further injury. You are slowly giving up hope when time seems to slow down. Your breath hitches as you spot what you need desperately: an opening. You zero in on the opening, thrusting your right hand into the open space. A spurt of red splashes your hand – your aim was true.

You step back immediately, parrying his retaliating blow with your other blade. More droplets spill over you, a shower of red that makes you nauseous.

You’re breathing hard. You haven’t fought with a sorcerer – or even a curse – for a long time, and it’s taking more of your strength than you anticipated.

Geto doubles over, which fills you with confusion. There’s no way those two nicks did any substantial damage, so why is he hunched over in pain?

And then you hear it. Laughter. Crazed laughter erupts from him in waves. When he looks up at you, the fear in the pit of your stomach intensifies. He’s not hurt – he’s pissed off. Very.

“I have to admit, you exceeded my expectations. But that’s not saying much when I expected nothing from a dirty monkey like you,” He spits. “What a brat.”

“If I recall correctly, you were the one who wanted to spar like old times,” You glare, grip tightening on your daggers. “It was only per your suggestion.”

“Your insolence boils my blood…how does he care for someone like you?! How did I?!” He roars. “You are nothing!”

He rushes forward faster than you can register and knocks you to the ground. You instinctively roll out of the way and are still nearly stomped on. You try to stand up, or even just sit up, but can’t. You begin to panic – you feel frozen in place, unable to even turn your head.

“Now you can’t run away,” He growls. “Should I make it a little unbearable? You deserve it.”

You feel a great pressure forcing your body into the ground. It’s excruciating; you feel as if your bones are grinding together and all your muscles are compressed. You can’t bite back the cry that erupts from your throat.

“Now you really feel the gravity of the situation,” He says with a demented smile. “You know, maybe I don’t need you anyway. He can just come to retrieve your body. Can’t make the same mistake twice, after all. Leaving a body to rot is a vulnerability. I could fix that for him, too…leave a puddle where you used to stand? If I crush you long enough, perhaps…”

“Fuck you,” You manage to get out. “You’ll never win. You’ll never beat Satoru.”

You fall flat on your face, coughing, as you are released from his technique. You try to push yourself up, but you only manage to a kneeling position. Not that it matters anyway, not when you are grabbed by your throat and hoisted in the air.

“Do you always make so many mistakes?” He hisses. “It’s like you want me to kill you.”

You couldn’t respond even if you wanted to with how hard he’s clutching your trachea. You have no idea when you dropped your blades, but they’re not in your hands now, so you have to resort to pitifully clawing at his grip with your bare hands.

Your vision begins to blur and darken as you asphyxiate. Howls of laughter ring in your ears, getting quieter and then louder as your hearing fades in and out.

Is this how it will end? No, it can’t, you can’t let it. You can’t leave yourself to die at the hands of Geto Suguru. You can’t die at the hands of your former friend, and be found by your other best friend. You can’t do that to him.

You claw harder, more desperately, even though you feel yourself weakening. It’s futile – his grip won’t even loosen at your efforts.

You have to use your weaker technique. If you do it perfectly, it might propel him from your body, giving you a chance to escape. Escape to where, you don’t know, but you need to try. You don’t have any chance otherwise.

With a burst of strength you didn’t know you had, you focus all of your cursed energy into the skin that is touching Geto. Your close your eyes, visualizing the perfect invisible wall that encases Gojo – no flaws, no gaps, no way to get past – and then you release your energy.

There’s a loud smack that resonates through the air, and then you crumple to the ground. When you look up, you can see a hard shell jutting between you and Geto, effectively shielding you. Geto is clutching his arm, which is now red and swollen.

You actually did it. It was a perfect use of your technique.

“You are frustrating, but no matter. I have other methods at my disposal. Didn’t think I’d have to pull this on you, but you seem to be begging for your demise, so I might as well use it,” He grits his teeth, and holds one arm out, his forearm curling up.

A ball of black energy appears at his fist. It is nebulous and shifts as it grows bigger. It begins to glow as time passes, as it amasses more energy. You have no idea what that is, but you highly doubt your shield will be able to block it. As you think about your options, your shield begins to fade away – you are nearly out of cursed energy. You are wide-eyed as you watch the last sections of your shield dissipate to nothing.

Entirely defenseless, you heave yourself to a standing position and try to stumble away. You fall to one knee in agony – Jogo and Geto have taken a toll on you.

You look over to see the ball of darkness leave Geto’s fingers. You are frozen, knowing you can do nothing, but also knowing you will die if you do nothing.

It approaches, and you close your eyes. Hopefully it will completely destroy you in a single instant, so it won’t be torturous. At least you won’t be in pain for long.

It’s going to hit you. And then you suppose it does. You feel weightless, like you weigh nothing. Perhaps your body has been destroyed, and this is how your brain is processing the absence of your nerve endings.

But if you are not here anymore, why does the wind whip through your ears?

You were mistaken. You don’t just feel weightless, you are weightless.

When you open your eyes, tears spill out at the sight in front of you. Tousled white hair, a blindfold tucked over his eyes, rigid determination showing through his features.

“I didn’t know this is where we were holding the school reunion. Class of ‘007, except Geto went all rogue and didn’t end up graduating. What a failure!”

His words are playful, and he’s smiling, but somehow his tone doesn’t match. It’s serious and dark, not at all jocular. He seems to be making an effort to keep up his lighthearted persona, but his true feelings can’t help but bleed out.

“Ah, you finally showed up,” Geto cackles. “It’s not good to have a weakness. I was about to do you a favor.”

Gojo laughs bitterly, “Don’t you know? Strength comes from weaknesses. Not that you would understand.”

“In any case…” He looks down at you. “I won’t let you take away my strongest weakness.”

next part

a/n 2.0: Okay so, idk how it 100% is in the manga bc I haven’t read it, but basically this ‘Geto’ (*cough* Kenjaku) has thoughts that are Kenjaku but with some of Geto’s memories ?? .. sorry if that’s non canon heehee

Bonus!!: Also I’ve been learning some Japanese so here is Gojo’ name spelled out: ごじょさとる。This is more for my own enjoyment 🫣 but here you go lol

tag list: @thenyxsky, @whitehairedtwink, @screwyou3

also thank you @zoyatoshi for your such sweet reblogs ����🥹 literally inspired me to finish this chapter up after 6+ months !!

[wordholic]

longing is the place of exile

pairing: aerin valleros x f!mc

summary: Aerin and Aria return to the Deadwood and confront their feelings.

note: rated G but there's some mentions of mc's experience while being held captive in the shadow's realm (such as valax taking mc's blood). wc: 3.9k. takes place around ch5. i wrote this solely because i wanna smooch his little face. and also i wanna study him under a microscope

comments and reblogs are always welcomed <: (tagging @choicesficwriterscreations ) ao3 link

Aerin had always had, in his mind, a plan for jailbreak. 

Sure, yes, siding with the Shadow Court, threatening a priestess' life, and committing fratricide made life imprisonment a somewhat sound punishment, but he wouldn't be caught dead resigning his years to a dingy, run-down prison tower. He'd much rather spend the rest of his life hiding from guards and living in shadows. 

Over the year, the plan had grown from a mere idea to an intricate web of schemes and back-up plans, as well as back-up plans for those back-up plans. In fact, if he hadn't been dragged out of the depressing cell to go on an 'adventure' with Morella's heroic saviors, he probably would've broken out in a month or two. 

Well, that was in the past anyway. Right now he found himself craving (for the first time) the cell’s creaky cot and undisturbed silence– gods, the silence–

Imtura's thunderous snores seized the moment. With a stifled groan, he rolled over, facing the crackling campfire.

The group had been forced to spend the night here in the Deadwood after a long day of trekking and fighting off monsters. While the notion of resting was pleasant at first, it soon proved to be difficult. It's a miracle any of these people managed to fall asleep, Aerin thought as he got on his feet and planted a step on the dry forest floor–

ZAP. A savage pain jolted up his leg. He cursed under his breath and stumbled back onto the ground, temporarily paralyzed by the sting assaulting his muscles. He'd forgotten all about the barrier Tyril had set up around his tent. He might not be behind bars, but he was still a prisoner.

"Aerin?"

His head snapped up. Immediately he caught Aria staring at him from the other side of the fire, partly startled, partly suspicious. "What are you doing?"

Something compelled him to put on an act, so he did, spreading his numb leg out and positioning himself in a way that wouldn't show how much discomfort he was in. "I find it impossible to fall asleep in a place like this."

Aria shot a knowing glance in Imtura's direction. A lopsided grin crept up to her lips. "It does take time to get used to that."

"Glad you agree. My solution was to go for a walk, but…" he gestured vaguely at the space around him. "That is also impossible."

She nodded. Then he realized that it was much stranger that she was awake as well. "And you? Don’t tell me you’re still not used to that."

"Please, that snore is nothing to me." She cast a meaningful look into the dark woods beyond the camp. "There's just… a lot on my mind, I suppose. I was going to take a walk myself."

Their eyes met once again. A silent understanding was passed, and after some contemplation, she added, "You should come with me."

He made a doubtful hum. "Should I? I mean, it's the middle of the night, and your friends here think that I'm a ticking time bomb. You're not scared some harm may come to you out there?"

To his surprise, she smirked at the mere idea. "We'll be safe from monsters as long as we don't make much noise, plus we both know you're no match for me. And to answer your question, I'm not scared of you, even if it's against my better judgment."

She came to a full height before him, limned by the dancing fire behind her, and he held his breath.

"After you," she said with a flourish, motioning outward. "My advice is to stick to the right side."

Still skeptical, Aerin stood up once again and took a cautious step, this time leaning toward said side of the opening. Amusement took over his expression as he made it out without being electrocuted.

"I don't suppose your mage friend made a slip while casting my shield?"

"...Let's just say I have more trust in you than all of them combined."

With that, the two set off at a leisurely pace, Aria illuminating the path in front of them with a wooden torch and Aerin waiting for the right time to break the silence. All around them, crickets chirped in harmony. The air was dry and still. Lifeless trees were shrouded in pitch black where the flame couldn't reach, concealing whatever dangers lurked within them. 

It suddenly seemed less of a good idea to be wandering around in the dead of night, but at least… Aerin debated with himself. At least they get to spend some time without everyone else keeping their watchful eyes on him.

"So," he started, stealing a glance at the back of her head. "A penny for your thoughts? Specifically those that managed to keep you up after a whole day of toil."

Out of the corner of his gaze, he could see her trying to tether her emotions to the ground, but the flash of trouble was unmistakable. It seemed that he wasn't the only one putting up a front. 

Just as he thought she was going to ignore him completely, she shook her head. "I'm worried about the others." 

"Is this about the extremely depressing moment you guys had earlier?" The question escaped him.

Aria shot him a withering look before returning her attention to the road, but it was enough to confirm his suspicion.

A year ago, the five of them had been formidable, no doubt drowning in glory and praise, victory and pride. They'd been Morella's newest legends, the ones who managed to pry off the Shadow Court's icy, greedy grasp. They still were, at least that's what Aerin believed, but time had passed. It was as Aria had pointed out: they were tired and still hurting from grief. They'd gone different paths, too. They might've managed to find their rhythm with each other before, but things had changed, and it's not easy to recreate the same picture with new puzzle pieces. 

It wasn't anyone's fault but time's, but he could still see on her shoulder the impossible weight of responsibility. The world was hers to save again, and this time she also had her companions to stress over. If there was one thing that hadn't changed, it would be the worry etched between her brows.

Though he supposed that she couldn't have changed much, given that she'd been captive the whole time. 

He chewed on his lip, this time threading his words delicately. "If you don't mind me asking, what exactly happened when you were in the Shadow Realm? I mean, I know the gist, but Mal said that you'd mostly slept through it, and I seriously doubt that."

Aria swallowed hard. He wondered if they were thinking about the same thing– the barren, devastated land, the despair and hopelessness permeating the air. 

Somewhere off in the distance sat a lonely log. They took their time heading towards it and sat side by side, shoulders brushing against each other in the newfound proximity. This close, Aerin could properly observe the wavering flame burning in her eyes and the way it painted shadows across her countenance.

She was every bit as beautiful as the day they'd met, and he could never tell her that.

"Mal was right, I was out cold for the most part… but I still remember what happened," she started. "I remember the room they kept me in, the leather straps bound around my limbs. I remember regaining consciousness every once in a while and feeling devastated when I saw that I was still stuck in the same place… that no one had come to save me.

"Usually I would wake, and then Valax would come and take my blood until I passed out again. The cycle went on and on. I was no more than a helpless prey waiting to be slaughtered. There were times when I thought that I was going to die there, that one of those days I would slip into unconsciousness and that would be it. I was going to die in another realm, away from my friends and Kade."

Her posture slouched as she recounted the past, head bowed as if trying to fold into herself. There was a noticeable tremble in her hands, and Aerin would give anything to be the one to hold her close and tell her she was still alive and safe, except he didn't have the right. He hadn’t even known about her abduction until just a few days ago.

"Even worse was the nightmares. There were horrors when I was awake and horrors when I was asleep, and I was always alone in my dreams. Sometimes I would see Tyril and the others, but they'd be wrong. They were cruel and vicious, and it was either that they did terrible things to me, or that I'd have to do terrible things to them. Those dreams terrified me, and I was always drenched in sweat when I woke up.”

Nightmares were not new to Aerin, and if he had to be honest, the 'creaky cot' and 'undisturbed silence' never did help much. He hadn't had one good night's sleep since he'd been defeated, not when he knew that he was doomed to be a prisoner, a traitor, a monster for as long as he breathed, and probably long after he was dead too. 

And if he did manage to escape confinement, who's to say that he'd be safe from those affiliated with the Shadow Court and wanted his head on a spike? And now he was also against the Ash Empire, no less. The stakes had only gotten higher.

The point was, he knew how the mind could turn into your worst enemy. That was probably why sitting next to Aria and adventuring with her after all this time felt surreal to him– because she was always different in his dreams. Sometimes cold and unforgiving. Other times hurt and broken. But never as… genuine and honest as she was now, heart on her sleeves and all.

She suddenly laughed, trying futilely to dispel the gloom with a shake of her head. "I'm lucky I forgot everything that day; otherwise I wouldn't have been able to make my escape. But these memories have a way of returning. They’ve been surfacing from time to time, haunting my mind." 

Her shaky fingers were clenched around the cloth on her lap, and Aerin knew that any one of her companions could take her hand and have it mean more than a thousand words from him, but they were alone and he couldn’t bear seeing even more hurt color her features.

So he reached out and wrapped his arm around her, and when she rested her head on his shoulder, his heart shuddered.

“It’s like the whole world’s moved on but I’m still stuck here.” 

“I know what you mean.” He whispered, recalling all the times he’d sat by the barred window and strained his ears for the sounds of the outside world. “…I wish I’d known earlier what happened to you.”

She scoffed good-naturedly. “So what, you could escape from the luxurious prison and come save me?” 

"Sure, maybe I would've figured something out."

Aria said nothing to that, lost in thoughts. Then, with a start, she tore herself away and restored the distance between them, brows tight with a thousand unspoken thoughts. "Whatever. It's all in the past now." 

Aerin had a feeling she wasn't just referring to the kidnapping.

As silence draped around them, she let the strong, determined mask slip over her face again. The whole day both of them had been hiding behind false pretense.

"Wait," she craned her head, frowning. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

She raised a finger, prompting him to keep quiet, and he rolled his eyes.

A beat later, she stood up and grabbed the torch. "There's water nearby." She illuminated the foliage around them and began following the general direction in which the branches and scarce leaves were bent. Aerin scrambled to his feet and followed suit.

"Should we be wandering even further out?" he asked.

She merely shrugged. After a few minutes, it became apparent to him that she was no longer a stranger to the road she was taking. The twists and turns she took were concise. Something had clicked in her head. 

She'd been here before.

And so had he, as he soon discovered.

They'd managed to find their way back to that fateful lake. It was precisely as he remembered– glimmering with an abundance of magic, casting whimsical hues on its surroundings. The moon managed to reach down through the grotesquely crooked branches to shine down on the water, specking it with starry sparks. For once, the air smelled like something other than depression and death. There was sweetness in every breath he took, courtesy of the dreamlike flowers that bloomed along the shore.

"Just how I remember it." He bent down to rub a smooth, roundly shaped leaf between his fingers. "We did have some good time here, didn't we?"

Aria rolled her eyes so far back that she probably strained something, but he didn't miss how she crossed her arms stiffly, eyes darting around as if desperately looking for a distraction. "If by 'good time' you mean playing me like a fiddle, then yea. We sure did."

Hurt bled back into her face, and he angled his own away before it could crack his facade. He knew hiding behind snarks was never going to grant him the olive branch that he wordlessly longed for, but it was still tenfold easier than asking for the impossible– her forgiveness.

Yet still, what she said wasn't true, and he couldn't let that become her impression of how that night went down.

"I know how this sounds after everything I've done, but I wasn't trying to trick you that night." 

Her expression was evasive. Unreadable. "What were you trying to do then, if not to bribe my trust?" 

"Nothing," the response was immediate. "There was no ulterior motive, Aria. Everything I said was true, and everything I did, I did it out of my heart."

He wished that he'd been a better man. Maybe then he wouldn't be standing where they'd laid their souls bare, trying desperately to make her understand. What good would it do if she believed him anyway? A criminal and a villain, he was never destined to be anything more than a footnote in her story. He could never force his way back into her life, let alone attempt to heal her wounds when he'd been the one to wield the knife. 

But she was the only soul who ever truly saw him as he was, and she'd been the person he'd wanted to hurt least in his grand schemes, despite how little that meant now. He just couldn’t let his feelings go unspoken.

Finally, she lifted a tentative gaze to him. He could see the exact moment her armor shattered. The slightest bit of hope crept into her expression, and it quickly seeped beneath his ribs as well.

"I can't trust you when there's still so much I don't know, Aerin," she says quietly. "I've been trying to understand why you joined the Shadow Court. I had a hunch that your family played a part in your decision, but the picture's still hazy."

The memory of his family was an ache that he actively avoided. He still felt rage gnaw at him when he thought of all the ways they disregarded him, and he’d be lying to say that he regretted the way the Blade of Shadow protruded from his brother’s chest. He did what he had to do.

He drew in a deep breath. It'd never been easy to broach this topic, but if he'd managed to open up at this same lake with the same person a year ago, maybe he could do it again. 

"Fine. I'll tell you everything." He took a seat on the soft grass and patted the spot next to him. Shortly after, Aria followed suit, quietly encouraging him to go on.

So he did. More than two decades of neglect and belittlement came tumbling out, as well as the shadows that lurked in the corners of his dreams, beckoning him to the other realm, promising him all the power he needed to change the world.

"Most people were so preoccupied with getting on my brother's good side that they didn't realize what a bleak future awaited Morella if it was to fall into his hands, and for the few that weren't busy singing praises, they cared too much about their status to speak up. Anytime I appealed to the court, they shot me down like I was some babbling kid. Eventually, I reckoned that no one was going to take me seriously."

"I'm guessing that's where the Shadow Court came in?"

He nodded. "They promised me power, and my brother would've plunged Morella into a living hell. I thought…" He balled his hands into fists, staring narrowly out at the tranquil water. "I thought I could finally get everyone to see things my way."

"Even if it meant sacrificing the lives of innocents? Even at the cost of my friend?" Aria speared him with a look, and he averted his eyes. 

"...It was my only option, and I was willing to take it."

She turned away, seemingly mulling over his words. Now that the truth was out in the open, a weight had been undoubtedly lifted from his mind… but the bitter taste of guilt lingered. The sins had been committed. There was no undoing the harm he'd done, regardless of how noble the cause might've been.

When she spoke again, her voice was barely a whisper. "Have you ever had second thoughts?"

"I suppose I have," his mouth curled into a bittersweet smile. "The whole time we were walking along this lake, I was lamenting our ill-timed meeting, even more so when I welcomed you at the palace. I couldn't stop wondering how things could've changed if we'd met sooner…" He trailed off, realizing himself. With every thread of memory unspooled, the defense around his heart was crumbling piece by piece. "Though I suppose there's no use dwelling in the past, is there?"

"I supposed not, but we still have the future ahead of us. You can still do better. Make up for what you've done."

That stupid, innocent hope crawled back again, yawning in his chest, pushing away all the doubts that'd been plaguing his mind. "You really think so?"

He held his breath as she reached out and placed her hand atop his. Her skin was calloused from all the tireless fighting, but it was warm and familiar. It was only when his hand instinctively turned over to grab her fingers that he realized he'd underestimated just how much he missed her.

In return, she gave him a brief squeeze. It lasted only for a split second, but he felt as though it could ground him. "I know so." 

Tranquil as the night was, the space around them felt tight all of a sudden. There was a tingle in his hand that longed to graze her skin, a tightness in his throat that threatened to spill whatever softness he'd been burying inside him, and he knew that he should look away before his face said something he couldn't take back, but it was impossible to do so when violet and turquoise waves were rippling across her features, highlighting the longing the mirrored his own.

His heartbeat was going so fast, he was surprised it was still safely contained within him. My heart still beats for you, the confession died on his tongue. Did he even have the right to say something like that, after all this time?

At first he thought that he'd imagined her lilac eyes darting down to his lips, but then she leaned forward imperceptibly, boldly. Her other hand, trembling, came up to hold his cheek.

"Are you sure?" Was all that he could muster in that closeness.

"I'm sure." 

Her eyes drifted close, and she slanted her lips against his. 

It was sweet and cautious, but enough to light up every nerve in his body. Whatever resolve that'd been holding him back dispersed as her tongue swept across his lower lip, and he readily parted his mouth, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. He untangled their hands and moved to cup her neck, relishing the way her pulse quickened under his thumbs. 

The tension lining her torso melted away as he tipped her head back, letting whatever that was unutterable to him spill into her open mouth, desperately and eagerly, with the likeness of a man starved of oxygen. He'd spent the better part of the past year dreaming (and resisting to dream) of having her this near again, and it was even better than anything he could've imagined. She was here and real and smelled like home, even though he had never understood what the word meant. Her fingers were tangled in his curly hair, drawing from him noises of contentment with each tug, and he couldn't help but trace his hands over the contours of her body before coming to a rest on her lower back, praying silently that this moment would stretch out forever and ever.

The moment ended eventually, as all things did. Face flushed and out of breath, he pulled away and dared to glance at her.

There was the slightest hint of hesitation behind her glossy eyes, like she was replaying in her head what'd just happened. Suddenly, with her face a breath away from his, he had a feeling he was back in the Shadow Court's macabre throne room again, holding her at knifepoint, feigning indifference at her bruised and crestfallen look. 

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he was right in believing that there was no way she– or anyone, for that matter, would give him a chance again, let alone forgiveness. 

A defeated sigh interrupted his racing train of thoughts. There was a wistful smile that Aria couldn't quite fight back as she knocked her forehead softly against his, letting their breaths swirl together. 

"I just can't seem to listen to reason when I'm around you," she murmured, gaze downcast. "But I do trust that you can walk a different path, Aerin. Not to mention…" her next words came out in a hurry. "I can't do all this… saving the world business without you."

He couldn't help but chuckle, his heart thumping like a gavel inside his chest. "Feels like the world’s always depending on you."

This time her smile went all the way, reaching every corner of her face, crinkling the corners of her eyes. "What can I say? I am a hero." She shrugged. "I guess what I'm trying to say is… I need you to stay with me. No matter what comes, we'll figure it out, I promise."

His heart squeezed at the confirmation; he wasn't as damned as he thought he was. She'd still have him, even as he was. The yearning in her eyes was a living thing, and after all this time, what was he to say except yes, yes, I will stay with you?

So he brought her knuckles up and pressed his lips to them, like hot wax making its mark, like a prayer, a promise. "I'm not going anywhere."

[askthe-littlepoet]

(One of the walls inside of poets jail starts to break a little tiny bit as another letter forms again, it's from Sean as per usual)

"My brother, I've heard about the lambs death. I am truly sorry that you've had to hear such news if you've truly heard it from the anons.

I would ask you to please be mindful and don't let the anons get to you because they will try to hurt you. Don't let them break you apart within your mind. They're trying to play tricks on you.

I will break you out of this damn jail if it's the last thing I'll do... I put myself into this damn void of a jail cell. I can hear you from the other side and I hear you speaking to the anons. I'll be seeing you in a couple of minutes. This is gonna take awhile to break the damn jail cell you're in."

- ( @pbamoney )

[Is all hell finally breaking loose? Gonna make a canon event from doing a jailbreak for no reason]

(They quickly glance at the newly formed cracks.)

"...A visitor?"

"...mmmm, indeed. I have slept long enough."

(They begin to read the note)

"...ah, finally. My gratitude upon thee for my freedom, Sean."

[bythenineshards]

Hook and Lace

Welp... Here's the Croc x Syre smut lol

Summary: Croc catches a scantily clad Syre in one of his coats.

Warnings: Rough sex, vaginal penetration, oral, little bit of shame, and exhibitionism, no aftercare in this scene (sorry).

Minors... please dni. This isn't for you.

A/N: So there's some context needed for this scene. I'll try to keep this short. Syre met Croc in Impel Down. She saved his life, and the two of them got...friendly. She also accidentally dropped her last name. Syre's family owns a generations old weapons manufacturing empire. Magellan didn't think it was wise for her to disclose her name to inmates for that reason. During the jailbreak, Croc rescued her from the prisoners and got her to safety (killing a few men in the process). After Marineford, Syre was released from duty in hopes that Bonne-Aventure Arms wouldn't drop their contracts with the World Government. Syre returns home, and life goes on normally for a short time. Crocodile then shows up and gives her a proposition. She marries him, he gets introduced into the society of her island, a partnership with Bonne-Aventure Arms and he doesn't take evidence to the WG that her family were friends and business associates of Gol D Rogers. Syre agrees. Thus begins a time in which Syre is torn between being attracted to him but obligated to hate him for threatening her family.

Syre liked the way she looked in lace. She admired the delicate patterns in white against her skin and the twinkle of a garter belt holding up her stockings. She played with her hair, pulling it up, contemplating in the mirror then letting it bounce around her chin. The maid would be back with her clothes soon. Not soon enough if she was being a little spoiled. Winter had fallen on Bella Violette and left her bedroom chilly this morning. She was about to grab her robe when she noticed something in the mirror.

A monstrous black fur coat was draped over one of her chairs. Syre glowered at it. Ridiculous man. Leaving his belongings all over her room like he owned the place. She had half a mind to burn it to warm up her room more. He must've forgotten it after his visit last night. A huff left her body with a shake of her head. She reached for her robe and was left wanting. It was lovely but too thin. Gerta had better get back soon or she was going to freeze in here.

Her eyes drifted back to the coat.

Stupid man, leaving his things all over my house, she grumbled internally as she padded over to it.

Her fingers ran through the luxurious black fur and her lips formed a soft smile. She lingered there, listening for footsteps to tell her that Gerta was approaching. Crocodile wasn’t home. He had business with her mother that morning and wouldn’t be back for at least a few hours. She bit her lip, well if it was going to be in here, it might as well be useful. Syre was glad she wasn’t in heels. She might’ve toppled right over with the weight of it as she pulled it from the chair and draped herself in it. Heels might’ve kept it from brushing along the floors though. It was comically big for her but she was warm in a matter of seconds under its weight.

If he’s going to leave his things in my room, they belong to me now… Another justification. Syre had gone back to the mirror and swayed a little to make the coat do the same. Her hands stroked the thick fur and pulled it tighter around her. She shrugged the fur closer up and inhaled. It smelled of his cologne, rich, heady and twisted with cigar smoke. It smelled of him. She had no justification for the warm feeling it gave her. A husband should make his wife feel comforted yet sensuous. Crocodile was not her husband. He was a filthy pirate that was blackmailing her family. He made her sick. He was scum and Syre hated him. Who cared that he smelled good and made her come undone so easily?

A dry rumbling chuckle sent warm prickly terror blooming in her chest, “Isn’t that a sight…”

Syre whirled to face the door, catching the coat and pulling it tight around herself. She didn’t want him to see the lacey things underneath and get laughable ideas. Curse this mansion and its well-oiled doors, “Were you raised in a barn? Barging in here like a heathen!” She chastised like a cornered animal.

Her vitriol was met with another chuckle as Crocodile closed the door behind himself. It was a pleasant contrast. Her pink and sugar features and his midnight black fur. The only thing that didn’t please him was the cocktail of fear and disdain in her doe brown eyes. It was a far cry from the sultry look he’d seen in her mirror.

“What do you want?” Syre spat at him, taking a step back as he moved closer.

“I believe that’s my coat,” he replied, “I was going to meet with your mother and came back for it.”

“You left it in my room.” She retorted, clutching the coat tighter.

“My mistake,” He gave her a wicked look, his eyes hungry, "It won't happen again.”

“Good, now begone with you.” She dismissed him with a wave and strode toward her vanity.

“My coat, Syre.”

She stopped, searching for something to say. “I'll have this sent when I am properly dressed. Have a servant fetch one of your others and leave me.”

She continued to the vanity and casually dabbed her wrist with perfume. Crocodile followed, eating up the distance with his long legs. Syre caught sight of him in the mirror and spun to face him. He was closer than she expected. Her startled step backwards jostled everything on the vanity. Her hands grabbed the tabletop for support as he loomed over her. With nothing holding it closed, he was able to glimpse the ensemble. His hook glinted in the faint morning light, coming to move the coat aside so he could get a better look. A satisfied groan eased from him as freely as cigar smoke.

Crocodile drank her in greedily. This coat had never adorned anything more lovely. He never tired of seeing her like this.

“Stop staring, cretin, and leave.” Syre mumbled, avoiding his eyes. She could smell his cologne and it was making her dizzy.

His brows lifted with amusement, the round side of his hook trailing down the center of her belly, “If that is what you desire…”

Syre made no move, said nothing. She trembled with the graze of his hook on her bare skin.

Crocodile leaned in closer, inhaling her subtle perfume, “Sweet girl, if that is what you want, look me in my eyes and say it again.”

Her eyes remained averted but her words were tart, “I want nothing to do with you.”

Quick as a flash, his large hand came to jerk her chin to look at him. A startled squeak rattled through her as his fingers squished her face. Her cheeks were pleasantly pink and her eyes, settling down from the brief shock, held the same guilty need he'd seen time and time again since their wedding. Since Impel Down.

“I see,” A smirk tugged at the smolder on his face as he released her and she looked away again. He seized the opportunity to place a kiss on her neck. A breathy whimper escaped her, making his smirk deepen. He whispered in her ear, “do you know what I think?”

“No. I couldn't care less.” She rolled her eyes.

“I think you've done well in pretending to hate me.”

“I will not have you slander me in my own home.” She snapped.

“Our home, Sweet,” he corrected in a deep purr. He leaned down, his lips barely brushing her neck. “No one's here to see you enjoy me. I won't tattle. So why don't you drop the spiteful hellcat act and be the sweet girl we both know you are. The one that gave me kisses in prison.”

Syre said nothing but her blush was reaching her ears now. After giving her neck one last kiss, he slowly sank down to his knees. Surprise made Syre look at him quizzically, “What are you doing?”

“I'm going to make you miss me. Even if you say you won't.”

Syre bit her lip as he gently pushed on her collarbone, guiding her to sit on the vanity. His hand slid under her thigh, prying it open with little resistance. The lace tore like tissue paper as he dragged his hook down her body. Despite the sharp tip causing no damage to her skin, she still gasped.

“Shhhh, I'll buy you more later.” He said, nuzzling the lace that the top of her stockings with his nose then the pink curls. His breath was hot on her exposed sex. It seemed like she was going to gasp again when his tongue came out to separate her folds with one long stroke. The sound came out breathless, soft and bordering on a mewl. He chuckled in response.

“So defiant yet already so wet…” He taunted, teasing her entrance with a thick finger. She could feel how easily the broad fingertip slipped over her beautifully displayed pussy.

Syre squirmed as his hook came to wrap her thigh but seeing he meant no harm, she relaxed. She watched as Crocodile’s tongue lingered on her aching slit, rolling torturously but never caving to her desire to be stretched around it. A soft sound made his violet eyes immediately meet hers.

Crocodile savored his feast, coaxing out breathy moans as his tongue lapped at her growing arousal. His eyes never left hers. Syre's legs trembled and her hips bucked of their own accord.

“See…” He drawled, pulling away to breathe. A string of saliva and arousal was wiped away as he panted. “Such a good girl… my Sweet Girl, blushing while I lick her cunt…”

Syre's lips parted to bite back that she didn't belong to him. She wanted to rebuke the idea but the heat in her cheeks made her silent. Holding back the desire to taste his name as a moan was challenge enough. Forming a coherent argument to rebuff him was a herculean feat. Especially as he yanked her closer and lavished her neglected clit with slow messy kisses. His fingers gripped her thigh so hard she feared it might bruise. His tongue flicked the small bud, swirling around it in tight circles and sucking on her parted lips. It all left her body warm and fuzzy with pleasure. Sinking her fingers into his hair felt sensitive and unreal, borderline ethereal. She was a delicate doll cast in sugar, poised to dissolve in his mouth.

“Sorry, Doctor Bonne-” Gerta said as she came bustling cheerfully through the door carrying Syre’s clothes for the day. She stopped dead at the picture before her, eyes widening in shock.

“Out. Your Mistress is busy.” Crocodile commanded, his tone leaving no room for questioning. Syre’s cheeks burned knowing that Gerta had seen how exposed and shamefully aroused she was. Part of her didn't care, she wanted to plead for him to keep going. Her fingers hadn’t left Crocodile’s hair. She just met her maid’s eyes, her own weak with desire. Syre's body was taught but her legs were held firmly open. Her eyes looked down at her husband. The indecent man wasn't going to wait for the poor older woman to leave. Returning to his feast leaving Syre to burn more vibrantly with embarrassment and the moans she was withholding.

Gobsmacked, Gerta fumbled with what to do. Decorum warring with the harsh order from the master of the house and the astonishing scene before her. She scurried to lay the clothes down on the chair, wiped her sweaty hands on her apron and went to ask her usual “will there be anything else, Doctor?” then realized how silly that was. Her mouth opened and snapped shut twice like a fish, her eyes seeking refuge on the polished wood floor. The maid then fled the room before she could be ordered to leave again.

“T-The servants gossip…” Syre managed to say.

“Nothing they didn't already know, Darling,” Crocodile retorted, rising from the floor. He practically slithered up her body to kiss her. She accepted the kiss without thinking about it, tasting herself on his tongue.

“See how sweet you are?” He asked, his hand easing the coat from her shoulders.

Syre wasn't particularly fond of being manhandled, or that's what she would say if asked in polite conversation. Crocodile on the other hand, enjoyed it thoroughly. Once the coat rested on the vanity, Croc had her bent over before she could squeak out a protest.

“Wait…what are you-” She began as he unbuckled his belt.

“If you want me to stop, use your words.” He demanded. When nothing came from her, he smirked, “that's what I thought.”

Syre's fingers gripped the fur underneath her. She abruptly sank down with a firm kick to her ankle. It wasn't meant to hurt her, just spread her legs further apart. She felt the blunt tip of his cock wetting itself in her folds. Croc hummed with satisfaction at just how soaked she was.

“Breathe,” he warned, as he lined himself up and pressed inside her heat with a groan. Syre's resolve was breaking as he, inch by glorious inch, stretched her.

Her legs went to jelly the moment he'd felt her relax enough for him to move. His pace was nowhere near as gentle as his initial easing inside. He pulled out slowly at first only to ram back in completely, bottoming out with a startled moan. His large hand running fingertips up then down her back. She didn't have long before the pace of his thrusts became merciless. She whimpered and moaned into the fur, feeling her walls squeeze his cock deliciously. Her shame caused her to melt into the fur and bury her face, amplified by the teasing low chuckle behind her.

"I wish you could feel how greedy your pussy is. Already trying to milk me like a spoiled brat. You can cum on my cock all you want, Princess. But you're going to earn what your cunt is begging me for.”

All Syre could do was whimper and mewl, too lost in the pleasure of being stretched around his cock to care that he was taunting her. Listening to the mingling of her cries and his grunts and deep groans. Every so often he'd utter a, “Good sweet girl.”

She was ripped from her haze when the cold metal of his hook wrapped her neck and yanked her upwards. His massive chest was flush against her back, pinning her to the vanity with hard muscle. Crocodile forced Syre to meet her own gaze in the mirror. His pace never relented as he growled in her ear, "Look at your pretty face. I want you to remember this face every time you say you hate me. Because I damn well will."

He nipped at her ear, her head filled dizzyingly with his panting. Her own breath caught when his free hand left its position steadying the vanity to rub her clit. She didn't even try to prolong her climax. He groaned feeling her come undone, fresh heat and arousal coating his cock with each wave.

“Atta girl…” He chuckled, giving her clit a pat causing a wave of aftershocks to clench him. Her soaked sex reinvigorated his pace.

The various bottles of lotions, perfumes and cosmetics teetered and fell without his support, rolling over the edge and hitting the floor. Those that found the rug were salvageable. Those that hit the bare wood floor met a messier fate. Crocodile’s merciless pace moved Syre's jewelry chest closer and closer to the edge with each thrust. The small cushion lined chest joined the shattered bottles not before erupting on impact, sending necklaces, bracelets and earrings scattered all over her room.

Syre boldly broke eye contact with herself to look at her husband. He was practically cheek to cheek with her, rutting her like a wild beast. Unruly locks of hair had fallen over his face as he kept his rhythm. Sweat was beading at his forehead and dripping down his face. He didn't notice her looking, his eyes were closed, savoring the feel of her weakly squeezing him for his seed. The sight of him was intoxicating and she felt her walls spasm, threatening a second climax. Syre was sure he felt it too, a smirk came before a growl as he nuzzled her face affectionately, "Again? So soon?”

Syre didn't have the wherewithal to answer. Instead she returned his lust drunk tenderness with some of her own in the form of a soft kiss to his cheek amid her breathless moans.

Her second release was more subdued. A pathetically weak plea for him to join her. She wasn't sure he'd accept the offer with how pitiful her offering was. His name drifted from her lips accompanying her begging.

“Please Crocodile… I need it… please fill me…”

His hand returned to her drenched sex to persuade her to give him a third, “I'm so close… just one more Princess and I'll give you what you want.”

Syre whimpered that she couldn't. He called her bluff with sinful circles at the apex of her thighs. Helplessly, she submitted to the pleasure and let it build. She was in a daze as the third orgasm had her trying to escape him. He yanked her back with a groan. Crocodile held her in place as she felt him pulse inside her. His body was tense above her, his hand bruising her hip as it kept her still. They stayed like that for a while after he finished. Syre was too weak and shaky to move leaving Croc to kiss her jaw and cheek, whispering to her.

“Good girl…”

Her neck felt bare without his hook around it. As he withdrew from her all of her was suddenly cold and lonely. Syre's legs trembled, his hot seed spilling out of her, the only thing keeping her on her feet was the vanity underneath her and that shook almost as much as she did. Her hooded eyes watched through the shaky mirror as Crocodile buckled his belt and smoothed his hair back into place. She made a slow turn, trying to straighten and face him, grasping the tabletop for dear life. Noticing her staring wide eyed, he sauntered over, glass crunching under his shoes, and took her chin in his thumb and index finger. His thumb grazed her bottom lip. He leaned down and gave her a quick yet mocking kiss.

“I'll tell your mother you say hello,” he said with a smug grin before departing her room without the coat he'd come for.

[saiintvalentiine]

HI I LOVE CHAPTER 8 SO MUCH there are so many little details and i adore them <33

like this ^^^ i love this actually so much rahhh

if you wanna talk about your writing at all, please do !! i love hearing about process and this whole series has been and will be on my mind constantly forever :3

HIIIIIIIIII I loved writing that line so much !!! Wifies who has learned from Parrot to sing in the sky, and now there is no Parrot to harmonize with..................

For ch8 specifically I wanted to bring some threads together. Throughout the fic, we experience these anomalies that Wifies notes (and some that he doesn't!) and while I didn't want to resolve all of them in one fic, I did want to show that they were being addressed.

I also wanted to talk a little about the in between of the Greatest Secret and the jailbreak (which will continue!) because we get no indication of how Wifies feels or how it goes for him in Parrot's videos. So I ended up writing The Sky!

I also had a scene in my head that I wanted to use as well, which is the part of Wifies learning he can cry. While he's in UU, aside from the anomalies, he doesn't ever really acknowledge any of his "modified" traits (except for ch4 where he mentions not being able to scream) because he feels normal-ish, but when he's back in the factory, he goes back to acknowledging his true nature. So the reveal that he can cry, but only kinda, felt like an important turning point in his thinking if that makes sense?

It's like. . . every chapter has a specific goal. I need to achieve something in each chapter by the end. So for ch8 the goals were: show Wifies's feelings about the chunkban, and set up the future resolutions to the anomalous happenings Wifies experienced on UU. And that's how I ended up threading it together into a complete piece of writing.

[caliburn-the-sword]

tlc winter last reactions

no final thoughts because i NEVER have final thoughts. they simply stew around in my head as time goes by and i post as we go

jacin's not gonna die he's a main character. can't wait for aimery to eat shit

yay!! scarlet to the rescue!!!

HOLY SHIT WINTER USED HER LUNAR GIFT OMG

honestly i thought her thoughts were still really muddled like she had lunar sickness. but she's just killed someone. and her character voice has changed ever so slightly. she's describing her surroundings much more than she ever did (she used to only ever describe her hallucinations, which contributed to the dream-like read of all her chapters)

CINDER CHAPTER. this smells like a final confrontation

omg thorne captured OF COURSE. really, this almost brings us back to where it all began, with thorne and cinder having a jailbreak together <3 i feel nostalgic for a book i only read a few weeks ago what

cinder please use the lunar gift PLEASE make her dance in burning hot shoes

so proud of cress for shooting thorne even if it wasn't because she wanted to

NO SCARLET NO WOLF (they came in and got mind controlled silly gooses)

ik this is serious but this has gotta be the strangest duel. lol. i'm sorry (cinder and levana pointing their guns at their own heads because of the lunar gift. i could literally hear the ten duel commandments while reading the whole scene)

NO CINDER NO (cinder got stabbed because she prematurely thought she won and levana is a tricky bitch banking on the fact that everyone knows she's vain)

omg kai <3

okay since we've immediately cut to scarlet talking to her friend i think that everyone was perfectly safe and everyone is fine <3 hope my delulu becomes trululu (it did)

i'm glad scarlet is the rieux's hero

aww maha's death flag flowers <3 no one talk to me i'm emotional

ACKNSDJCKSDHF THE REFERENCE TO PICKING WILDFLOWERS FROM LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD I'M GONNA EXPLODE

OMG I WAS SO RIGHT BACK WHEN READING SCARLET, WOLFLET ARE TOTALLY ALSO A RETELLING OF BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

uh oh are they gonna fuck. please don't fuck i'm in chem and also there's a reason i don't read sarah j maas and whoever else writes a lot of smut

thank goodness for iko AND OMG CINDER'S ALIVE YAY CRESS IS ALIVE

thorne lost fingers. rip

very interested to see adri and peony

YAY THE TREATY OF BREMEN (i completely forgot about it)

with winter asleep like this this might be the climax of the little snow white fairy tale more than getting the cure for letumosis was

omg. jacin is not an orphan. perhaps miss marissa meyer does not hate parents as much as i thought she did. i think it's just him and thorne that aren't orphans. actually cress would have a mother out there somewhere but she's a horrid bitch. i don't remember ANY mentions of scarlet's mother, just that her father sucked, but since she never had her mother i assume her mother also abandoned her. but perhaps now because she's a hero they will reunite i hope jacin gets his chance to become a doctor as he wanted. I BET HE WILL REMAKE GARAN'S DEVICE AND CURE WINTER OF LUNAR SICKNESS

OMG JACIN'S GONNA KISS HER IT'S JUST LIKE SNOW WHITE

omg no don't tell me winter has lost her memory

omg kinney is cinder's personal guard. i had a feeling that would happen since he's the only named guard other than jacin LMAO

slayed. cinder didn't owe her stepfamily ANYTHING. while i personally would have loved her to yell and scream and rip them a new one, but that was so good for her. i'm not even mad

i find it strange that kai himself finds formalities were weird. he was literally raised royal. now i'm gonna write a speculative fic of him being sent to a completely ordinary school in disguise to receive formal education with the commoners as a lesson (which wouldn't exactly be supported by canon considering his dad was a bit yikes. perhaps his mum was totally chill and she was the one insistant on it. and then when she died his dad pulled him out again)

I KNEW IT THE CHIP WAS INSIDE IKO AND I'M A GENIUS

i wish i could've seen the linhs get their come uppance instead of royalties but i'll find it within myself to live with this. hopefully peony learnt a lesson and won't turn out to be a major bitch like her mum. but somehow i highly doubt that

yes. thorne kind of deserves to get pardoned after all he's done for earth. and i have a feeling cinder is gonna negotiate his rampion back. however. i think it would be REALLY funny if after ALL this they just sent him to prison lmao

cress PLEASE become the chief information security officer at kai's palace like he planned on asking, i'm BEGGING you

somehow this makeout scene was even MORE uncomfortable than the last. i feel nauseous

okay in summation of how uncomfortable cresswell make me: the fact she rarely uses his name and only calls him captain. idk if this is just me only ever calling teachers miss or sir and other authority figures sir or ma'am but it literally just feels to me that she's recognising him as an older, more experienced or powerful figure. which is exactly the imbalance (that has come with their age gaps and experience gaps) which is the reason for problem in the first place. god. yikes

gamekeeper winter. i like sound of that (update: i like diplomat winter even more)

“Though I might play fetch, depending on the prize.” jacin has a pet kink confirmed??? (this is a joke. god i can't stand these people sometimes)

i didn't comment on cinder borrowing winter's dress before because i thought that maybe it might've been too big but cinder wasn't vain enough to notice or that it had been hemmed without mentioning, but now that it has been specifically mentioned that cress's dress HAD to be hemmed it's canon that cinder and winter are the same size. i can't believe that i have not one but TWO confirmed flat queens. and winter is canonically the prettiest girl alive

“I was just thinking about the good future,” he said. “The one with you in it.” I'M SCREAMING SHAKING THROWING UP NO ONE TALK TO ME

thorne and cinder high five <3 it really started just the two of them

it is so wattpad of iko to have eyes that change colours based on her mood AND I LOVE IT

ACKGHNDIX THE FOOT. WE'VE COME TO THE END OF THE CINDERELLA STORY. FULL CIRCLE

YES YES YES YES YES REPUBLICAN LUNA FTW I LOVE DEMOCRACY FUCK MONARCHISTS. I LOVE THIS AND I'M SO HAPPY. now it's kai's turn

goodbye foot

WAIT NO WAY THAT'S THE END WTF I TURNED THE PAGE AND JUST NOTHING. this is a federal crime.

only major thought is aww cinder didn't get to torment levana with the lunar gift like the red hot shoes. but also. i completely understand why it didn't and couldn't happen, and i was never expecting it to.

anyway now that i've read all the main stuff will it be safe to start following everyone back without getting major spoilers?? i would LOVE to continue this with stars above and the graphic novels?? (which aren't appearing on goodreads as part of the series for some reason) but most unfortunately i have exams coming up in less than a month and will probably need to put reading on hold until november if i want to stay sane. this was fun while it lasted and i can't wait to dive back into tlc once i'm free<3

@eddisfargo @francforever @winterrhayle @winterpinetrees @shellyseashell @luna-maximoff-22 @queenjazz7 @mtmousie @dramatic-jellybean

[kozachenko]

Ok managed to catch up on Cheating Detective Satori... surprisingly quickly! Was it as bad as I thought?

....I mean, not really but it's still not... the best. Full review under the keep reading tag. Huge spoilers for the manga, of course.

Ok so, for the first bit before Mizuchi's reveal was... honestly kinda bad, like, Satori could've just... solved the case at the mansion quicker if she just read Sakuya's mind and went "ah yes she had no motive but did it anyway she was possessed" because like, if Mizuchi had been pulling shit like that before in former Hell, shouldn't she have said something? That's kind of a problem in this manga, the characters who should be telling us something are just so "vaguey no explainey". And also, why the fuck wasn't she at the scene more often? Like, why wasn't she the one who interviewed Sakuya? Why Orin? Why does Satori barely show up in a manga called Cheating Detective Satori? I mean, I don't mind it as a narrative choice but with the title it just feels like false advertising at this point.

Overall, the first portion of the manga with the endless "but who's being possessed next?" is honesly kinda frustrating. Also, Reimu, you are literally a shrine maiden and you have experience with ghosts and the like, what's stopping you from using some kind of spiritual techniques to try and track Mizuchi down? Like, why?

And now for the somewhat controversial reveal of Mizuchi...and honestly? I'm fine with it not being Mima. Like, it would have contradicted with her character from the PC-98 games anyways, and also because MORE MIZUCHI PLEASE HOLY FUCKING SHIT HAVE I BEEN CONVERTED TO THE MIZUCHI ENJOYERS CLUB OH MY FUCKING GOD-

Yeah so Mizuchi is my diamond in the rough that is Cheating Detective Satori. I like her character a lot and the parts where she's in it are some of my favourite parts in the manga. However, I think her sudden escalations in power are... well a bit much to say the least? Like, in the Eientei arc they mention how "we don't really know how the jailbreak king posses people" and my first reaction was, "REIMU YOU HAVE SEEN NOT ONE, NOT TWO, BUT 4 PEOPLE GET PASS OUT AFTER DRINKING SOMETHING, MAYBE YOU COULD INFER THAT THIS JAILBREAK KING CAN ONLY GET TO YOU IF YOU DRINK SOMETHING AND SO YOU MAKE SURE NO ONE DRINKS ANYTHING EVEN IF YOU DON'T KNOW THE EXACT CAUSE OF IT-" which, I guess it was never really properly established but fine, it leads to a cool moment where Mokou gets possesed and all but still. Mizuchi doesn't really have any weaknesses and kinda gets more and more powerful as the manga goes on.

However, if ZUN plays his cards right this could turn into a good thing JUST HEAR ME OUT, PLEASE-

Ok so, before I read the manga I saw the idea that Okina had something to do with Mizuchi getting loose and I fucking love that idea. Mizuchi's rampage in Gensokyo being enabled by Okina (albeit unknowingly) could also help explain the sudden power ups she gets.

[EDIT]: Ok as I was still organizing my thoughts on the manga after this, I realized that the limitation of Mizuchi only being able to posses people who have a grudge on the Hakurei shrine is pretty smart and could be used for some good character conflicts. But I think this is something that's kind of underutilized in the actual manga, despite the fact that it maybe limits who Mizuchi can posses in Gensokyo.

Anyways, the manga is kind of just wallowing with the story, like, why did the protagonists just let Mizuchi get away into former Hell when they could've just... exterminated her then and there. Like, if you still wanted Mizuchi to get away somehow, you could just extend the fight to where Mizuchi swaps from body to body as she makes everyone fight each other for her, so that by the end, everyone is too exhausted to go after her. Other than that, I actually liked the Myouren Temple arc a lot. Like, it isn't perfect per say but I liked it the most. I also liked how in the most recent chapter, we (kind of) learn what Mizuchi's deal is, mainly that something about Gensokyo's creation royally screwed her over. I also think that the twist with her being a member of a family that served the Hakurei shrine was really cool too. I have always liked the idea of there being something darker going on behind Gensokyo's creation. I honest to god don't know how the fuck ZUN is gonna end the manga though. Like, I just wanna know how the hell things are gonna go now, especially with the sealing off of former Hell. Which, side note, but I love how pissed off Yuugi is in the most recent chapter, like, this is the second time now that someone who was meant to take care of the place just ended up ditching it. Of course she's gonna be mad. I'm not against the idea of Former Hell needing to be sealed up, it's just how it gets there that's kind of messy. Like, it's such a drastic decision that just feels to rash for Satori to make, especially considering the fact that Mizuchi was RIGHT FUCKING THERE I'M STILL PISSED OFF THAT THEY JUST LET HER GET AWAY LIKE THAT LIKE WHY?! I feel like that's where a lot of problems with this manga lie, a lot of really interesting plot points and events that are very messily connected.

[EDIT]: Ok so about that last point I missed something with the latest chapter and yeah, Satori planning on getting Reimu to confront Mizuchi personally is a good way narratively to recover from what would normally be something out of character for Satori (This whole post was made in a bit of a hurry after I finished the most recent chapter so the information still needs to set in my brain a little).

Now for my thoughts on the artstyle. I'll be honest, the early artstyle for the manga was really pretty, but didn't really work for a manga style story. It's really nice looking for illustrations, but other than that it's just kinda eh. The page layouts were kind of boring and I think that's what made the earlier chapters feel boring. It also somehow fucked up the way each character talked if that makes any sense??? Like, since there wasn't really much expression in the character's faces, they all kind of started to blend together, even with the dialogue they all felt like they thought and reacted in the exact same way. Not to mention Sakuya's STUPID RINKY DINK LITTLE MAID CROWN WHY IS IT VERTICAL- sorry had to go off on that tangent there, that's always bothered me.

However, the manga's new style is so much better oh my god. Like, everyone translated pretty well into the style, even if it is a teensy bit inconsistent. The page layouts were also really creative and made things a lot easier to read. It only got better as the manga went on too. Can I talk about how beautiful Yuugi looks? Ok so Yuugi looks fucking gorgeous in this manga, like, the artist clearly liked her the most because she just looks *muah* chef's kiss. Also, the fights in this manga are so well done, like, this is EXACTLY what I was missing in Lotus Eaters. Like, all the hits feel weighty and impactful, and not to mention how expressive the characters are. The newer style isn't afraid to give us some really fucking unhinged expressions and I LOVE THAT. It helped make the manga more tolerable.

I said in my review of Lotus Eaters that I would compare the two mangas in terms of writing styles so I'm gonna do that. Lotus Eaters represents a lot of ZUN's strengths in writing, i.e. shorter more character driven stories that wrap themselves up nicely in the end. I think this is probably because ZUN is more experienced with this style of writing, since from what I've gathered, a lot of the other mangas and literary works follow this similar principal. I feel like ZUN doesn't have trouble with writing good characters, but instead struggles with finding ways to make them act consistently throughout a longer narrative. Like, I feel like that's the best way to put it. I feel like a good way to rectify this issue for ZUN is if he tried writing more longer printed works (mainly just to get experience with the format) take what he learned from CDS and apply that.

IDK if I gave Lotus Eaters a rating but I'll do so for CDS. I'd say it's a 4.5/10 if we're being generous. It frustrated me to no end because of how many missed opportunities it had, and it had so much potential to be amazing, even though it has some good qualities that made the experience a bit less painful than what I was expecting. I mean, it's still ongoing so it could get better, but now I'm just more curious to see how it sticks the landing. My math question comparison that I made in my Lotus Eaters review still holds up tho lol.

I remember a post on here saying that JoJo Part 4 is basically just CDS but good. And honestly, now that I've actually read the manga I see what that person meant now lol.

[tessa-liam]

Smoke and Mirrors 

Chap. 3: What’s Important 

Book: The Royal Romance Finale AU 

Series Premise: Hidden in the shadows, poised to challenge the status quo are enemies of the state. The loyalties and honesty of family and of friends will be tested. ‘Keep your friends close, your enemies closer.” 

Main Pairing: Liam Rys x F!MC Riley Brooks-Rys, OTP ‘LiRi’ 

2nd Pairings: Leo Rys x Amalas (past, Olivia Nevrakis x Amalas)           Drake Walker x F!OC Delaney Leigh 

All characters belong to Pixelberry, except Delaney Leigh, Interpol Director Ryerson, Criminal Intelligence Officer Cossoy 

Rating: M *Series Warnings: NSFW material, sexual innuendo, adult language/swearing 

Category: Alternate Universe/on-going series/angst/fluff 

Words: 2197, Read: 10 minutes 

Smoke and Mirrors

Chapter 3: What's Important

Chapter Summary: Don’t ever forget what’s most important. The ones we love. 

Music Inspiration: Who We Love by Sam Smith, Ed Sheeren 

A/N: My submission for Week #18 Prompts, Prompt #3- “Why are you like this?”> “It’s part of my charm.” @choicesflashfics @choicesficwriterscreations 

A/N2: Not beta'd, please excuse all errors.

Previous Chapter: I Will Fight for You, Masterlist 

*** 

Royal Chambers 

Liam's Thoughts/POV 

Thinking back to yesterday... 

The traitor was found, named, and arrested. Bastien... 

Interpol Director Ryerson and his team uncovered an elaborate web of deception that was set in motion by my father, all those years ago. 

Bastien was complicit at every turn; with insider information. With access to everything. To anyone. 

Once my father was gone, who did he answer to? 

It was supposed to be me, his monarch. But it wasn’t. 

Finally, getting sloppy, he was caught orchestrating the jailbreak of a prisoner by the royal guard’s second in command, Bastien’s top lieutenant. Who, to his credit, in turn disclosed his concerns to his friend Drake. Drake, loyal to the crown, revealed the breach to the Royal Council. 

Bastien has been charged with treason; now named a criminal being held in confinement in a jail cell in France.  

A criminal, that past Kings would have executed by their own hand for the crime committed, treason. 

It didn’t stop there. 

After the realization of the betrayal, by a man sworn to protect him, and his family, there was the added bonus of the discovery of a possible sister. 

Tossing and turning, sleep evaded his night.  

As Liam stared into darkness his mind kept replaying the events of the day over and over again. The memories of Director Ryerson’s words, “Her name is Lena Eleanor Rys,” and “apprehended by the Royal Guard, that was later released by Bastien Lykel”, on repeat. 

Heavy is the head that wears the crown. 

Fuck!!! 

His mind would not let his body sleep. 

He looked down at his wife, his queen, curled into his side, peacefully asleep. 

A woman that took the revelations in stride. Sure, she was livid about Bastien’s treachery...but, she wasn’t surprised.  

Riley knew, all too well, that Bastien followed the command of his monarch, without question.  

So instead of getting emotional, she turned her anger into resolve; determined to find answers. 

She is my inspiration. My partner in everything. 

Kissing the top of her head, he carefully moved her arm as he sat up. 

Liam left his chambers with plans of going down to the gym to work out and de-stress. Moving down the hall, he passed by Ellie’s chamber. Peering through the small opening of her door, he saw Chance sleeping at the foot of her bed. Her guard, stationed outside her door, bowed to Liam as he continued down the hall. 

*** 

Across from the Royal east wing, Leo sat on his terrace in the west wing of the palace, long into the night, also unable to sleep. He’d spent most of it watching the stars and thinking about what he and his brother had learned from the Interpol director. 

...and thought about how much he wanted to personally punish Bastien for his duplicity and deception.  

It was strange to think that they had a possible sister. It felt like some kind of twisted fairy tale. One thing was for sure...his father was a selfish and cruel man. How could he do something like this? Why did he knowingly want to hurt Liam with deception?  

What did his father do to make life so miserable for his own mother to leave him behind? Sure, the court members were vipers. But his father had all the power to protect and shield her. 

He thought back to when he first met Queen Eleanor, his stepmother. 

She was so sweet and kind. She was always smiling and happy even though she was married to my bastard father. She genuinely made me feel wanted and part of the family. True to form, Constantine didn’t protect Liam’s mother either.

lost my mother and my stepmother. 

Leo raised his glass, finishing the last of the scotch, when his laptop chimed signaling an incoming video chat.   

“Hey baby!” Leo said as soon as the video came up. 

“Hello there handsome,” Queen Amalas smiled at him. 

Leo returned the smile, “I have missed you.” 

Amalas sighed, “I have missed you too. When are you coming home to me?” 

“Soon. I need to be here a while longer. Once my brother has everything in place with the new head of the Royal guard, I will join in the search for our half-sister in Monterisso.” 

“...and then, you are all mine. No more distractions will separate us?” 

Amalas somberly asked. 

"Why are you like this?", Leo asked pointedly. “I am not used to you being so ‘clingy’.” 

Amalas looked into the camera and sighed. “I don’t know. After everything I have gone through with Olivia, I don’t want to be a secret, or an afterthought anymore.”  

“Baby, I promise you that you are in my thoughts constantly. I would give anything to be with you right now in person.” Leo smiled genuinely. 

“I miss you terribly,” Amalas confessed. “How do you always know the right things to say?” 

“It’s part of my charm.” Leo winks and suggestively says, “get lots of rest baby, because when I get to your palace, I will wear you out in the best way possible.” 

*** 

It was 5:30 am, when Liam returned to his chambers after completing an intense workout. Moving into the bathroom, he stripped out of his shorts and turned on the shower. 

Standing underneath the shower stream of hot water, Liam felt his body begin to relax as a sense of relief washed over him. His eyes closed and he let out a sigh, feeling like all the tension had now been released from his muscles.  

Not hearing Riley enter the shower behind him, he was pleasantly surprised to feel a pair of hands move over his back, massaging in slow soothing strokes. She moved her hands down to his ass squeezing and kneading with firm pressure before moving around to his front brushing against his hardening shaft. 

Liam groaned, “Riley, love...this water is too hot for you and the babieser.” He gently grasped her hands and turned to face her, blocking the flow of water. 

Riley reached up to stroke his cheek, resting her head on his chest. 

“I love you Liam, so much.” She felt him smile against her palm and then his kiss pressed her palm. 

“...and I love you,” he whispered in her ear. 

“We need to get out of this steam.” Liam gently turned Riley around to leave the shower. Taking his hand, she led him into the bedroom. 

“You know,” she said as they walked, “I don’t think we have time for a morning sex session.” 

“No?” he feigned surprise. “Are you sure about that?” Liam teased. 

Riley smirked, shaking her head as she pulled him down to sit on the edge of the bed. Stepping between his legs, Riley knelt down in front of him. Looking up at him through her lashes, "this Is a little something to tide you over till after the meeting, Your Majesty.” 

Liam quirked his brow, “oh, really?” 

“Yes, I want you all to myself this evening so that we can really enjoy each other when everyone is gone, uninterrupted,” she purred. 

*** 

King’s Study, Royal Council 

Drake was the second member to arrive at the Royal council meeting. He walked in with a smile and took his seat next to Hana at the boardroom table. He noticed that she seemed to be nervous and was curious to find out why. 

“Good morning, Hana. It’s great to see you here.” 

“Hello Drake, thank you.  Can I ask you something?”  

“Sure, what’s up?”  

“Is Neville a part of this council?” 

Drake grinned, “Do you really think that Riley would give him any voice and make him a member? Why do you ask?” 

Before she could answer, Director Ryerson and Officer Cossoy entered followed by Leo and Rashad. As the remaining council members took their seats, Hana whispered, “Neville found out that I am back in Cordonia, and wants to meet with me.” 

“Oh, what a desperate motherfu...,” Drake chuckled. “Give me the word and I’ll kick his ass for you.” 

Hana grinned, “thank you. I hope it doesn’t come to that.” 

Riley entered next, followed by Liam, each taking their seats at the head of the long table. 

As the royal guard closed the doors, The Interpol officers began the meeting to present the status of the investigations, and to answer any questions. 

After the long 3 hour presentation ended, Liam stood to formally thank the Interpol officers for the update and asked the council members to remain. 

Liam continued, “we need to plan a trip to Monterisso.” 

*** 

Sitting at the dining table, Ellie waited patiently for her nanny to spread butter on her brioche roll. The wait staff bowed to Riley as she entered the room. “Mmmm...something smells so good,” Riley said as she took her place alongside her daughter, unfolding a cloth napkin on her lap. 

“I do not know what it is, but I would like some please,” Ellie asked excitedly. 

“Daddy will be here soon, sweetheart.” Riley said with a smile and kissed her little girl’s forehead. “Tell me about your day, what were your lessons about?”  

Before she could answer, she heard Liam greet the chef in the hall. 

“Daddy! Ellie exclaims. 

“Well, hello, my princess.” Liam bent down to kiss her cheek. 

“I learned about spelling words, and we read stories today.” 

Liam kissed Riley on the lips next and moved to his chair, 

“Ewww, Daddy!” Liam let out a deep laugh. 

“When you are married one day, you will like kisses.” Riley laughed at Liam’s expression to that comment. 

“That won’t happen for a long, long time, princess.” Liam shot Riley a look, and she chuckled. 

Under the table, Riley ran her foot up Liam’s leg. He sat back smiling at his wife.  

“You are in so much trouble Ri...just wait till later." His voice barely a whisper.  

“Ellie, what would you say to going on a trip to visit Micaela?” Riley asked, changing the subject.  

“Oh yes, mommy!” Ellie happily clapped her hands.  

*** 

Riley sat at her dressing table, brushing her long chestnut hair. Anticipating Liam to join her soon, she felt her heartbeat quicken when she heard his voice speaking to the guard posted outside their chambers. 

She rose from her stool, to check her reflection one more time and walked out onto the balcony. The night air was crisp, and she shivered as a cool breeze blew her hair. She leaned against the railing overlooking the garden below. 

“There you are.... You are so beautiful.” He pulled her into his arms for a kiss that left her breathless. Liam pressed himself closer against her body, feeling her curves beneath the thin silk of her chemise. He could feel his desire rising as he looked down at her, admiring the softness of her skin and the peaks of her nipples under the silk. He moved her straps down her shoulders, and lowered his head slowly and took one of her breasts in his mouth, sucking on it gently. Riley moaned softly as his warm tongue brushed over her sensitive nipple.  

“Oh God!” she cried out in surprise when she felt him slip his hand between her legs and yank her chemise down between her legs. Riley gripped Liam’s biceps as he slid his fingers along her wet pussy lips. He slipped two fingers into her and began to pump them in and out. Riley whimpered in pleasure, grinding her hips against his hand as she succumbed to her orgasm. 

Liam was now rock hard and throbbing as he spun Riley around to take her from behind. It didn’t take long for Liam to find his release. 

Climbing into bed, both sated, they fell into a deep, restful slumber wrapped together. 

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed ⚘️

@txemrn @ao719 @peonierose @queenmiarys @703cowbarn @mom2000aggie @malblk21 @indiana-jr @winkyluxhumanoid @rubiwalker @kingliam2019 @marietrinmimi @imashybish @angelasscribbles @isha26 @cordonianredruby @hopelessromanticmonie @tinkie1973 @belencha77 @honey358luv @jared2612 @urfaveaesthetic101 @xpandass420x @kyra75 @late-to-the-fandom @3pawandme @sammiiieeevaaans @lsvdw-blog @blueaster-blog1 @imjusthereforliam @lovingchoices14 @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @miss-america-erica @princess-geek @karahalloway @cathx91 @walkerdrakewalker @squid-princess-teach-swallow @thesvnsins @surrenderronnie1 @delmissesryan @iaminlovewithtrr @deepestphantomstranger @fuinseoga @hotkingu @busywoman @twinkleallnight

[the-s1lly-corner]

Jail Break (Father x Reader)

raffle prize for @jezy ! i hope you like this! this was my first time writing a fic that was more action and stealth based so hopefully i didnt totally fail in that area!! prompt: you bust a sick benedict out of the arctic base after he fails one of his plans notes: reader is gn, reader is not a villain theyre a normal person, toiletnator cameo, i forgot a lot of the arctic base stuff so im going off of memory because i have no current access to knd episodes </3 word count: 2262 cws: none

You couldn’t believe you were doing this… and doing it alone, at that! What were you thinking? Exactly, you weren’t! You knew there were people more capable of jailbreaking Benedict from his cell in the arctic base, but your own worry had consumed you; you acted as quickly as possible without truly making a plan. 

And now here you were, peeking around the corner of a wall, your free hand gripping a heavy bag filled with any tool and gadget you could get your hands on from your partner’s mansion. You didn’t even know what half of them did, for all you knew at least one of them could be a plain pen… one did look like one, but upon trying to write with it you found it was in fact a laser of sorts. 

You suck in a breath and hug the wall as a child walks right past you, not taking a second to glance at you as you huddled against a vending machine.

 A few seconds pass, and you finally bring yourself back to your feet and return to your position at the corner. A line of cells, some empty and others containing an adult that had been captured. You recognized some of the ones who were gripping the bars and muttering words you couldn’t hear. 

Two operatives sat at a table next to the nearest cell, playing a card game. You needed to get past them without giving yourself away. 

Your hand grips the straps of the bag you carried, before pulling it open… nothing seemed to be a good idea- you didn’t want to actually fight them… they were children, afterall… Your teeth grind together for a moment. 

You look at the vending machine and feel your pockets for dollars. Kids like junk food, right?

Hastily shoving the bills into the machine and scooping up the bags you could afford you stand for a moment. You still can’t just walk up towards them and offer them… so you do the first thing that comes to mind and chuck them to one of the side hallways further down the one you were looking down. The bags slam and crunch from the impact, and you can hear them slide and bounce off the floor. 

In an instant the operatives are getting up from their seats to check out the noise- and you take this as your chance to rush down the hallway as fast as possible. You hear one of them comment on the snack choice, seemingly more than pleased to find free food. 

The first cell you reach is empty, and the second contains… You frown as you lock eyes with a pair of bright blue ones. Before Toiletnator can even get a (rather loud) word out, you silence him. 

“Lou-” You hiss through clenched teeth as you instinctively grab his face through the bars and squish it. He stares back wide eyed as you loosen your grasp. “Is Be- Is Father here?” You whisper. Toiletnator pulls his face away from the bars and his brows knit together. “He is-” He gasps. “Are you here to bust us out?” 

“Where is he?”

He doesn’t seem at all phased or dampened by you ignoring his question. He slips a long arm through the bars and points further down the hall. “I think he’s waaaaaaaaaaaay towards the end- hey-!” You hear him call after you as you speed walk to where he pointed. Lou was right, Benedict was in the second to last cell on this side of the hallway. 

You knock your knuckle against the bars and almost instantly regret it with a hiss. “Benedict-” You whisper, unable to finish your sentence before Benedict lets out one of the loudest sneezes you’ve ever heard come from a human being. Your own throat hurts just by hearing it and seeing how it tore through his curled form.

A frown contorts across your face. “Benedict I’m here to get you home,” You rattle the bar with one hand and dive your free one into the bag. There has to be something you can use to get through the bars…

Did this place have alarms? 

The thought only just now crossed your mind, but nothing seemed to have gone off… yet…

There had to be something…

“Why are you here?” Benedict wheezed, his words far less forced and strained than they usually are- at least not in the way they were normally. He sounded… exhausted, as if every word took a special kind of will to force out. He pushed himself into a sitting position as drooped yellow eyes stared right at you. He was still shrouded in shadow, but even against the dim lighting you can tell how bad he looked.

“I’m getting you out of here and taking you home,” You repeat yourself.

“That’s not…” But he sneezed before he could finish and groaned as he dug his knuckles into his temples. You make a mental note to make some soup when you return home. 

If you return home.

You stare at him, sudden annoyance bubbling up inside of you. He was already ill before he went off to invade this base, even if it was a simple fever… and he still went anyway, and got caught. You bite back your tongue for now, scolding him wasn’t going to empty his cell.

You pull out various tools and put them to the bars- nothing seemed to be able to get the job done. 

Eyes dart to the hallway to make sure the operatives haven’t returned to their posts, and so far it doesn’t seem like it. Toiletnator seemed to have gotten his head stuck between the bars, presumably trying to keep an eye on what you were doing. It didn’t look like he noticed yet. 

You pull out another gadget… the pen. You stare intently at it, twirling it around in your hands; careful not to click it on and burning yourself. Tapping your nail against it, you figure it was worth a shot… when you tried it it seemed stupidly powerful given how small it was.

“Stay where you are,” You mutter, but Benedict had made no move to get closer to you. 

Clicking the pen, you let the red laser dig into the bars- and to your shock and surprise, it actually began to cut through. Cleanly, mind you. You’d ask Benedict why he had this specific object while making him soup.

You grip the bar before it can fall to the ground, and shuffle it next to you. You repeat the process until there was a big enough gap for Benedict to fit through- which… admittedly, it didn't take long at all. You pocket the pen, and lean into the cell. 

Squinting, you frown as you watch Benedict shamble over towards you. You gently take his hands- warm and clammy- into yours and help pull him through the bars. The shadows engulfing him feel… different. Almost sludgy, but still solid. He shuffles next to you as you keep a hand wrapped around his side, and one of his arms slung around your shoulder.

“Come on… if we hurry…” You mutter as you pass by Toiletnator who begins going off on where you’re going- aren’t you going to bust him out too? What about him-

You only offer a soft apology to him as you practically dragged Benedict across the floor, each step leaving him weaker than he was before.

“I told you going was a terrible idea,” You say through clenched teeth. His breathing hitches as he prepares to say something in response, but you’re both silenced as the operatives round the corner and lock eyes with you.

It’s a horribly long pause, with the four of you locking onto each other. You catch Benedict trying to summon some fire, only for sparks to slip between his fingertips. That was enough to break the trance, the silence erupting into shouts. 

You nearly hiss a swear but swallow it before it can slip out- these are children after all. 

You begin to make a break for it, nearly dragging Benedict across the floor as his legs begin to crumble under him. “Hey- HEY-!” He tried to roar but it only came out in a rasped voice- vocal cords gone raw from his sickness. You tug him closer as finally, the base’s alarms pierce through the air. Something flies past your head, you whip your head around to see the two operatives from before aiming a gun full of gumballs at you. 

Your feet bump into each other, nearly taking you down to the floor. Benedict yelps as the arm wrapped around your shoulder tenses against you.

You glance at him. He’s far too ill to keep up with you- not that you were an athlete… but you didn’t want all of this effort to go to waste. You snake an arm behind his legs and tug him off of the ground- at least he won’t be dragging anymore. 

It was all adrenaline, you were sure- but there wasn’t any time to answer Benedict’s yammering as his fingers scrambled around and into your shoulders to try to anchor him to you. He rested his head against yours, covering his eyes as a dull groan escaped him. The movement could not be good for him. Hopefully, he wouldn’t throw up on you. 

You zip through hallways and mumble faint apologies as you dive and push through confused operatives trying to locate the problem- a few times you narrowly avoid getting tackled to the ground. Multiple times you nearly twisted your ankle trying to weave around the chaos.

Finally, you managed to burst through the exit and make a mad dash for the vehicle you used to make the trip. Blasts go off behind you as they try to take you down, but out of sheer luck you clamber inside and slam everything on, and rise into the air. Faint dings are the only thing cutting through your panting, but even that fades as you get too high in the air. You set the vehicle on autopilot- silently thanking whoever added that feature as you punched in where you needed to go…you didn’t know how to drive an aircraft, much less one masquerading as an ice cream truck.

You turn in the driver’s seat and shoot a soft glare at Benedict as he cradles his head in his hands in the passenger’s seat. Your eyes soften.

Not now. You’ll get onto him later. 

You relax into the seat and look into the rear view mirror. The arctic base continues to get smaller and smaller as each second passes. You can see operatives scrambling around on the ground in the remains of the chaos, they look like ants. 

A sigh you didn’t know you were holding finally releases itself. Finally, Benedict brings his head up to look at you. His shadow drips off of him like ooze, paled skin peeked through holes. You lean over and fiddle with the lever on the side of the seat. 

“These should be able to recline backwards, right?” You ask, mostly speaking to yourself as you pull it, and slowly lower Benedict into a mostly laying down position. He groaned with each soft jolt as he was lowered further. You mutter an apology each time. 

“There… that’s better than sitting up…” You pull your hands back into yourself. His yellow eyes are fixated on your face, though they looked glazed over. His teeth clicked and chattered every few seconds. 

You want to say something, to get onto him for being so reckless. So careless, but he looks so defeated by his own body. You bite your tongue as you fumble with your coat… you ignore the mustard stains- no doubt from the weapons the operatives used on you. You place it clean side down on him. You crank up the heat, ignoring any thought that you may be melting the ice cream stored in the truck. 

You face forward, and drum your fingers on your thighs. 

“I should have listened to you,” Benedict croaked.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye but don’t offer a response.

“I’m sorry,” He added when you didn’t immediately acknowledge him. 

You suck in a breath through your teeth, and dig your knuckles into yourself. “It’s…” 

It wasn’t okay. You may have both escaped but what if you hadn’t?

You stop yourself and puff out your cheeks as you try to think of something to say. 

“It’s not okay, but we will talk about it when you’re feeling better. I don’t want to have this conversation right now while you’re in this state- it feels unfair to keep you from resting,” You say firmly. He doesn’t argue with you.

“You’re staying home until you’re better, too. No evil villain nonsense.” You add. He opens his mouth to speak but the glare you give him has him snapping his jaws shut. 

“Of course, of course,” He mumbles, all the fight sucked out of him thanks to the sickness. He’s not as stubborn when he’s ill, at least you have that to be thankful for. 

The rest of the ride home is spent in near silence; only being broken by Benedict’s coughs and sneezes as he drifts into an uneasy sleep. 

You reach over to him and run your fingers through his hair, now exposed from his shadow. It was unkempt. You make a third mental note to draw him a bath once he’s well enough to clean himself.

[good-beanswrites]

Heyo!! :D uhh I was just thinking about prompts!! I have two that I've just been thinking of! You can do one or the other, I don't mind ^^ Yuno with Blanket (if you havent done that yet :o) and Muu and Yuno with Honesty :D

Thank you so much :D!! Your writing is so funky I love reading it, it's like my daily newspaper abejfncjcn

Hi Mug :D thank you so much aah!! I really loved these combos, that's so sweet for both of them ;-; Here's Yuno and Blanket -- something lighthearted from the beginning of t1, with a bit of her unfortunate people-pleasing habits.

“Requests are in!” Mikoto’s voice sang from down the corridor. The prisoners perked up from where they’d been lazing about. One would have thought he'd announced a jailbreak with the amount of energy that rippled through the room. Yuno leapt to her feet.

"You seem excited," Kazui chuckled as he stood. "What are you getting?"

She suddenly felt a twinge of shame for her reaction. Things weren’t bad in Milgram by any means, but the atmosphere was beginning to creep under her skin now and then. There was an old comfort she’d been dreaming of the past few weeks. It felt embarrassing to say to someone as concerned with his maturity as Kazui. 

"Oh, nothing much,” she said. “Just something that reminds me of home, like the cigarettes you ordered." She didn’t know him well enough to say so, but she was secretly grateful for his request. The smell of smoke was familiar to her as well. "But mostly it's something new around here -- isn't the whole thing exciting?" 

It was the first time they’d received a delivery, and everyone was eager to see if they got what they ordered. Though Yuno found the system surprising, it made sense. Milgram allowed more unique freedoms than a normal prison, given it also inflicted more unique restraints. 

She joined the group heading down the hall, all chattering in anticipation. 

"Yuno!" Mahiru waved her over. The woman had talked about the products and creams she'd requested, in the hope of keeping up her skincare routine. Yuno would be following suit soon, though she wanted those things to keep herself feeling refreshed rather than looking a certain way. There was no one here to impress. With her looks, that was.

Mahiru’s eyes gleamed. "What did you order?"

Yuno knew she wouldn't satisfy her appetite for gossip as much as Shidou testing his luck with medical supplies or Amane’s taste in high-level study materials had. 

"Something real cute~" was all she needed to say to get her giggling. 

Es instructed them to line up in front of their room to distribute everything. Yuno found her place behind Haruka. 

"Hey, hey! What are you getting?" She wasn't immune from that same gossipy curiosity…

His cheeks immediately reddened. "Uh, well, I h-hope I can get some c-candy. It -- I mean, it's kiddish, I know."

"Don't worry, some might think my request is childish, haha! Plus, I think Muu ordered sweets, too."

This seemed to calm him a bit as he walked ahead. Fuuta nudged her from behind.

"Oi, what did you ask for?"

She'd overheard him and Kotoko discussing what would likely be caught as a tool to escape, and knew her answer would disappoint him.

The bright smile she’d given Haruka angled into a more jaded smirk. "Eh, just something to get me through the night, you know? A practical comfort."

Fuuta grunted, respecting the choice. 

Her attention returned to the front of the line, where Haruka was returning with loose treats spilling from his hands. She took his place in Es' doorway.

"Prisoner 002," Es scanned a piece of paper. "For you… ah,” They read it again. “Just a blanket? Was that all?" 

She beamed. "Yup! Just a blanket." 

“You strike me as the kind to ask for a lot…”

“Mmm, you’ve read me well, Warden! Not this time, though. Gotta start small, then see what I can weasel out of you!” She winked. As usual, Es pretended to be unimpressed. Yuno knew she was wearing them down, bit by bit.

She offered a bouncy bow as Es handed it over. She hadn’t given many specifications, but it certainly looked as big and fluffy as she had hoped. Milgram had gone with pink -- the same shade as some of her uniform accents. 

"Thanks!" 

The prisoners' excitement died down fairly quickly afterwards. Amane began reading in silence. Kazui retreated to the smoking room alone, though Shidou and Mikoto promised to join him after the next round of requests. Haruka had nearly finished eating all of his candy by nightfall. Kotoko sat by herself to jot things down in her new notebook. Yuno’s good mood lasted much later. 

Once the bell had rung and silence fell onto the prison, she could feel the usual chill start to creep into her cell. It had gripped her with fear the first few nights -- that unshakable coldness that reminded her why she was here in the first place. Sometimes, when her body jolted her awake with the feeling of falling, she'd blame it on the temperature rather than a universal human experience. It brought up too many painful memories to be something so ordinary, after all.

But not tonight. 

Tonight there would be no falling, and no chill. No stepping into bed with enough skin showing to make her shiver. No more crafted conversations or flashing certain expressions.

A goofy grin spread across her cheeks. Yuno unfolded the blanket with a flourish. She swept it around her body, then flopped down on her bedding. With nothing more to worry about, she sank into the cushy blob.

‘Just a blanket’ her ass. This was the warmest she’d felt in a very long time.

[ao3gobi17]

Sorry for the confusion, English is not my first language and I was writing this half asleep. I meant if Paz's real killer was found and it was proven to the court that he was responsible for Paz's death,not Quaritch. I think Quaritch would then demand acquittal and custody, right? So he would have to lean out to be ready for the reopening of the case, and let's assume that Spider was then intercepted by the police.

**Further addition ^^** I think I explained it wrong again 💀 simply if Quaritch had found the killer while Spider was being held by him and deja blue (let's assume it would have been before Matthew showed up)

Ahhh sorry I think it was my bad in the first place! I'm pretty sure I gotcha now. So if Quaritch uncovers something definitive (lets say the CCTV wasn't destroyed and he finds it and it clearly shows Peter Ellis kill Paz as an example) - he's going to be able to get the murder charge overturned for sure. However it would still take time to go through the legal process - like he couldn't email it into the police and have them email back and say 'okay cool you're acquitted' or something. But let's say Quaritch is effectively cleared from Paz's death and has not been recaptured. I think that's the scenario you're thinking about.

He would absolutely want to be acquitted and get custody of Spider. But he would still have to answer for the kidnappings (even pre-Matthew there's three of those) and the aftermath of the jailbreak out (even if he wasn't 'directly' guilty for the victims there) and maybe even the Peter Ellis 4 ex-RDA who got killed if they can link him to that. Those are all processes within themselves. Even if the years served were allowed to count for any sentences here (let's assume he doesn't just get convicted of murder again lol) I don't think anyone would be looking to return Spider's custody to him.

For one - Spider at this point wouldn't want it. And while seven year old Spider was actively being raised by Q, sixteen year old Spider hasn't been, so there's not really a 'best interests' factor here in that respect and also they'd very much take a sixteen year old's opinion into view. For two - if Q has been kidnapping kids and especially Spider, even if sentence is retrospectively served (I don't know if that's what would happen!) I doubt any of the authorities are going to want to hand Spider back over to him. If anything they'd want Spider to end up back with McCoskers and if that happened he would plan to go to college as early as possible if the McCoskers were willing to support him (and thereby get out of their hair as soon as he could, which is kind of what he was going to do in the first place.)

If Q was free because he'd been acquitted/pre-served his sentences and Spider was with the McCoskers... he's only gonna grab Spider again, so there might a court order put in place, but again, he'll just ignore it, eep.

I feel like if he held Spider and refused to show up for the acquittal stuff/other sentencing nothing much would change other than Spider's peace of mind over Q def not being Paz's killer.

Hopefully that was the right answer this time but please let me know if it wasn't!! <3

[johndeerequeer]

Chapter 1

Jailbreak

Masterlist

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Warnings: mild violence, gunfights

Read on Ao3

Time passed at a snail’s pace. Everything seemed so still, she convinced herself she could feel the earthing rotating.

Between the lines of questioning, picture taking, and information gathering, there was nothing to do but wallow in her thoughts and drive herself mad. Guilt is it’s own kind of torture. It gnawed at her like a feral beast. She would die here, she was sure of it. Her time on trial would never come, and she would be left to rot in this cell till the end of time, and then rot some more. A day stretched into an eternity, like a living damnation.

The dying light of the sun had vanished long ago. The day was done and the station was quiet once more, as it was when she first arrived. Only one man remained in the other three cells, who had been escorted in by a bounty hunter this morning. Everyone else had been transferred or released.

Though he snored like a roaring bear, she couldn’t complain. Better that than soul-sucking silence.

A cry for help broke through the snores and her agitated thoughts. She shot to attention and glanced at the officer who took over for sergeant Lambert at the end of his shift. He rose to his feet and paused, eyes searching through the windows, waiting for another cry to assure him he wasn’t hearing things. It came, more desperate this time. A man called for help.

“Nelson,” the officer from the desk called to the guard at the other end of the room. He gestured for him to investigate.

The guard nodded and made his way through the back doors. She brought her face to the bars to watch this unfold, craning to peek through the glass doors. A faint shuffling could be heard, then silence lingered for a moment. And then another moment. And another.

“Nelson,” the officer called.

He received no response.

He turned to the guard on his right.

“Glinski, take Harris, somethings wrong.”

The two officers from either end of the room proceeded to the back.

“Everything alright?” the officer in the foyer called.

“Working on it,” the officer at the desk called back.

“Nelson’s out cold!” one of the officers reported.

A moment passed.

“Hey!” one of them cried, followed by a gunshot and a scuffle.

The faint sounds of grunts and punches landing reached her ears. She backed away from the bars, as panic swelled in her chest.

The desk officer grabbed his pistol from his holster.

“Fitz! I need your help back here,” the officer called as he made his way to the back.

She turned to the foyer. The guard was gone. Uncertainty swirled in her belly. She couldn’t tear her eyes away as a dark figure emerged from the second set of doors leading into the station; a tall masked man, bearing a worn leather hat and a rifle. Familiarity lingered in the back of her mind. He stalked forward, quiet as a mouse and deadly as a panther.

“Fitz is busy,” the man called with a thick, southern cadence, “I’ll have to do.”

The desk officer turned quickly on his heel with his pistol raised. Terror froze her in place as she watched this unfold.

“Drop it,” the man commanded with his rifle aimed.

The officer hesitated. She watched in horror as another masked man with long, dark hair emerged from the back doors and slammed the butt of his rifle to the back of his head. His limp body crumbled with a thump to the marble floors. She didn’t make a sound.

The figure of death made his way to her cell. The second figure followed.

“Check the desk, see what you can find,” he told the second man.

He unlocked her cell door with a loud clang.

“Please, please, don’t!” she yelped as he moved forward with a hand extended to her.

“Easy, you’re all right,” he cooed.

She shrunk to the ground without another word and scrambled to the corner.

“My name’s Arthur,” he told her as he crouched to her level, then her gestured to the second man “that’s Charles. We’re here to help.”

He pulled down his bandana and pulled off his hat. The lingering familiarity cemented as she recalled the eyes peering into her own. The bounty hunter from this morning.

“You remember me?” he asked softly, his voice rough as gravel, yet smooth like honey, “I was here this morning. Lambert told me what happened to ya.”

His eyes, the colour of sea glass, held her there, kept her present when all she wanted was to shrink to the floor and lay there to die. She managed the smallest of nods.

“Before I left, that feller came in, the one cussin’ you out?” he asked, “I overheard him and his goons. He wants you dead. We came to get you outta here.”

She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.

“You gotta trust us,” Charles urged as he returned from the desk.

“I-”

The front doors rattled violently, followed by heavy banging. Every head turned towards it.

“Sergeant!” A man bellowed, “you got somethin’ we want! You hand her over, and no one’s gonna get hurt!”

Her eyes shot back to Arthur, with terror lingering in her features.

“It’s now or never, darlin’,” he urged, “that door ain’t gonna hold forever.”

She took the deepest breath her constrained chest would allow. She lifted her hand, which he met in a calloused, yet tender grip.

“Atta girl,” he cooed.

He hoisted her to her feet and brought a gentle hand to the small of her back as he guided her through the door. They moved quickly out the back, his touch never leaving her. Her eyes fell on the guards that lay among the alley, barely conscious.

“Hey!” A man barked, “Ed, they’re breaking her out!”

Her head whipped back to catch sight of Ed Roscoe and his goons rounding the station at the mouth of the alley. Her stomach dropped. A man she only met once, when he came storming into the station just this morning, in a state of furious grief at the loss of his brother. She couldn’t shake all the horrible things he screamed at her. A part of her believed she deserved it.

“Over the wall,” Arthur ordered, “I’ll cover you.”

She met Ed’s eyes only for a moment before she turned to escape, and the rage behind them scorched her soul. He wanted her dead.

Charles helped her step up onto a nearby crate and hoist herself up as Arthur opened fire. The sound rang in her ears. She shuffled over the slope of roof and laid flat. The men fired back. She couldn’t bear to look. Charles pulled himself onto the roof with a grunt, and loaded his rifle to take aim.

“Arthur,” he called, while rapidly firing.

Arthur pulled back and climbed up as well.

“Let’s go,” he called.

They shuffled to the other end of the roof. He turned back to her with his arms extended. She hesitated.

“I got ya, sweetheart,” he told her, “jump.”

She obeyed. His arms softened the descent. Their surroundings blurred past as they made their way through the back alleys of the city. Adrenaline washed through her as the night's cool breeze brushed past her face. She felt alive. More alive than she had felt in the last 24 hours. They reached two horses tied to a post, a few blocks away from the station.

They stowed their rifles as they approached.

“You ridden before?” Arthur asked.

She shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself to fight the chill in the air. He watched her, and then shrugged off his brown leather jacket, walked to her and flipped it around her shoulders. Her head tilted back to watch him intently as he neared her, measuring his every move. She tensed as his arms hovered around her: the feeling was uncomfortably familiar. A sickly panic squeezed her chest.

He let the jacket fall and pulled himself away quickly. The warmth lingering in the fabric spread around her and soothed the chill like snow melting on a sun-beat road. Her shoulders relaxed under the weight of it.

“It’s real easy, watch how I do it.”

In one fluid motion, he stepped his left foot into the stirrup, and launched up and over the side of the horse. She approached the horse as he did, and fished her arms through his jacket. He offered his hand to her. She took hold of him, hooked her left foot in the stirrup, and took a big breath. She did as he did but slammed onto the saddle with force and started to careen over the other side.

“That’s it,” he praised, his right hand shooting behind him to her side to push her back into place, “I got ya.”

The sensation was foreign, wildly uncomfortable, and so incredibly high. She gingerly snaked her hands through his arms to wrap around his torso, but quickly pulled back.

“You’re alright. Hold onto me tight if you like, sweetheart, I don’t bite,” he offered over his shoulder.

She slowly snaked her hands through again, leaning forward and bracing herself against his back. Her hands met each other at his middle and then splayed across him with firm pressure. She sighed quietly in relief.

The moon shone a ghoulish white cast on the hills of Lemoyne, as the three thieves stole away into the night. No one breathed a word until they had reached the other side of the bridge, not until they were certain they were in the clear. The ambient and incessant buzzing of cicadas filled the air. They hummed along to the beat of their horses’ hooves clopping against dirt. A few wild pigs squealed in shrill anguish as they passed.

“Well, that went better than expected,” Arthur cleared his throat as he broke the silence.

Charles shot him a look over his shoulder.

She couldn’t muster any kind of response, not that she even had one in mind to offer. She simply held onto him in a steady embrace, jostling about on the back of his horse. Somehow, the rough ride soothed her, much the same as the bumpy wagon ride to the police station.

She breathed a deep sigh and a multitude of scents filled her nose. Mainly sweat, smoke, and gunpowder.

“What’s your name?” Charles asked.

She considered her reply for a moment.

“Mads,” she replied, “call me Mads.”

They slowed their pace as they cut down a dirt path and approached the entrance of a large property. The murky lights of lanterns flickered in the haze of the swamp like fireflies beyond the gateway.

“Who’s there?” a man called from the tree line.

The sharp bark startled her to attention.

“It's us,” Charles called back, “Charles and Arthur.”

As they continued down the path, they approached a shabby, colonial mansion, crawling with vines, sat amongst a large clearing by the edge of a swamp. A homestead, seemingly abandoned, now sprawling with life. Wagons and canopies littered the site. People bustled about.

They cantered steadily over the wood slats of the path, coming to a stop at the hitching posts. Charles dismounted first, hitched his horse and Arthur’s, and then made his way towards the house.

“I’ll let Dutch know,” he offered as he passed.

Arthur nodded and then turned his attention to her.

“I think it’d be best if you hopped off first,” he said.

She pulled back and passed a glance between him and herself.

“Just do what ya did before but backwards,” he removed his foot from the right stirrup so she could place her foot there, “nice and easy.”

She took another deep breath, hooked her foot in the stirrup and swung herself off, hitting the ground with hefty force again. A stinging ache reverberated through her foot as she wobbled backwards and grabbed the saddle to steady herself.

He did the same but was significantly more graceful. He landed beside her, and she felt the warmth of his body brush past her with a whoosh. She hadn’t realized how much she enjoyed it until they parted.

“Let’s uh, introduce you to the group,” Arthur offered with a hand extended in the same direction Charles had walked off to.

She nodded and willed her feet to carry her forward, despite her trepidation. Arthur followed closely behind, keeping a small distance between them. Charles appeared in the doorway of the grand house, followed by a sharply dressed man.

“Arthur, I understand you’ve brought us someone,” the man greeted.

“Dutch, this is Mads. Mads, this is Dutch, he’s the… head man around here.”

Dutch. The name lingered in her ear with familiarity. She swallowed her unease.

“Good to meet you, Mads,” Dutch greeted with a hand extended. She pried her cold hand away from her side. He grasped it firmly, but gentle, much the same as Arthur, and they shook hands. Yet again, all she could offer was a nod.

“Make yourself at home, my dear. Arthur, I need to steal you for a moment, there’s some… interesting news I’ve got to share with you,” Dutch spoke, slightly stilted, wary of the mixed company.

“Sure Dutch, I just-” he paused, tossing a small glance at Mads.

“I’ll show her around,” Charles offered.

Arthur nodded.

She followed after Charles, casting a small glance back at Arthur. He glanced back too, as Dutch ushered him away with a pat on the back.

[stupid-elf]

I agree it's a natural fit (look no further than AtLA and the movie that doesn't exist for why) but the answer is somewhat complicated

Mind you this is all based on a conversation about this exact topic I had with a film student friend, but he has done an internship with a film studio out of Chicago so... Eh? Take it with a grain of salt, but please take it

It's all optics. Animation is synonymous with "kids shows" and/or anime (which is associated with either sex or kids shows). That doesn't mean it's right, but it's true, and studios have worked very hard to keep it that way

It has been like this for decades. It happens regularly that I'll be talking about a show with my sister and my mom chimes in "ooh, sounds interesting" and we can just respond "oh, it's animated" and she'll lose interest. Legend of Vox Machina, Avatar the Last Airbender, several Studio Ghibli films, Cyberpunk: Edgerunners, My Hero Academia, to name a few. To be fair, some of those are kids shows, but uh... Some of them aren't. (They had fully naked people fully in frame several times in Edgerunners.)

Now, there is hope, though. A large part of the root cause is original Disney movies. They're kids programming, and they're animated. The live action versions, as awful as they are, show a swing towards jailbreaking kids media from being solely animation. Meanwhile, shows like Vox Machina or Edgerunners being huge, critically acclaimed successes are allowing adult media to break into animation.

Even in the superhero genre, Invincible is animated and distinctly adult entertainment. The future is now

Maybe this trend will pick up? Not to place a called shot, but in light of the truth in the fact animation so much more naturally houses special effects (you don't even need a VFX department, it's just... another thing to animate) I suspect it will. I hope it will. I hope animators finally start getting the credit they deserve, and maybe studios or even individual animators will become household names

Gonna use my power of Understanding Capitalism and say it's probably because live action stuff involves less unions or something