#more about this au is coming if anyone wants!

[megamindsecretlair]

Make Me Weak, Part 2

Pairing: Sex Therapist!Terry Richmond x Sub!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, mentions of depression, anxiety, and description of sex acts and sexual issues. Hair pulling, PIV, condom use. Power imbalance, Shy!reader. Dark!Terry. Dom!Terry, AU Terry, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some. I'm not a therapist and while I do not make light of therapy, this is purely for my own fun. Please seek real medical attention when necessary.

Summary: You followed Dr. Richmond’s instructions to the best of your ability. You spent so much time in your mind that willingly descending into your body was an experience that opened your eyes to how much you had neglected. Your second session forces you to confront more truths than what you were ready for. 

Terry reaches some conclusions of his own as he tries to shake whatever is ailing him by disappearing between Tasia’s thighs. Yet his mind is on you, on your thoughts and words. During the second session, he can’t help but push you beyond your limit.

Word Count: 5,018k

Part 1 | AO3 Link

A/N: I'n back babbyyyy. I got so inspired reading so many lovely fics. Plus the encouraging asks really helped. I had TOO much fun writing this and you will not hurt my feelings if you don't want to read this one. However, I must tag to keep my taglist updated. Forgive me, my loves. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

You

Hot steam rolled out from the shower as you set it to your desired temperature. You faced yourself in the mirror, thinking over Dr. Richmond’s words. You supposed that there was some truth to what he had told you.

Most people did start by exploring their own bodies first. It must be so easy for guys. Close the door, grab some lotion, and rub one out. Girls on the other hand…your life was constantly spent in a state of panic.

Panic that anything on your person would make your mother snap. Harsh criticisms hidden behind “just talkin’ shit” that Black people liked to hide behind. You were too sensitive to jokey-joke with when you weren’t able to reciprocate. It’s not like you could talk about your mom. It’s not like you could throw insults back in her face and tell her to take it in stride.

Panic that you could be caught or exposed at any point. You were a grown woman, yes. You were also taught to believe that you needed to act as if someone was watching. You believed there was some kind of life after all this and so wouldn’t it stand to reason that someone or something would be looking at you? Or worse, someone would come flying through your door because your family lacked boundaries? 

Panic that you didn’t know what lay on the other side of an orgasm. How would you feel? How would you look? Surely something like that changed a person. Feeling that rush of relief for the first time had to be special. Had to be amazing. Otherwise, why would anyone ever be obsessed with sex? 

Panic that you’d never reach that peak and fall over. Never feel that rush of euphoria that everyone talked about. Porn, books, friend groups. You always felt left out and you didn’t want to anymore, dammit. 

You watched yourself in the mirror as steam overtook it, inch by inch. Until you were only staring at your eyes and the disbelief written all over your face. Would this even work? Were you wasting your time? 

“I need total, focused commitment from you.”

Dr. Richmond’s sultry voice skittered along your naked skin. Goosebumps raised on your flesh from the cold air moving through the house. You would be focused. You would be committed. This was something you wanted so badly, you were fucking desperate. 

So you took deep, measured breaths using the Box method a previous therapist told you about. You inhaled for a count of four, held for four, exhaled for a count of four, and then held it for four. You repeated the process, doing a full body scan. 

You focused on your head, starting with your scalp. You focused on your forehead, feeling the tension melt away and your eyebrows start to relax. You hadn’t even realized that you had it scrunched.

You brought your attention to your eyes, unfocusing them, and allowed them to close. You repeated the process, breathing the entire time, settling down into your body when your mind wanted so badly to escape. To flee. To leave the Horrors. 

When you felt your mind drift, you didn’t chastise yourself. You continued to breathe, focusing on your breaths until you continued with your scan. Your body relaxed fraction by fraction. Your shoulders lowered from up around your neck. Aches and pains became more prominent. 

Your belly expanded and you sighed. You hadn’t even noticed how often you clenched your stomach, never allowing yourself a full breath. You always had to be on edge. Never knew where the next danger was coming from. What new fresh hell you would encounter just around the corner. 

By the time you reached your feet, you felt more relaxed than you had in a long time. Your body prickled with your newfound awareness. Steam caressed your bareskin and you quickly hopped in the shower, letting the warm water cascade across your body.

The water felt different on your body. Each droplet may as well have been a tiny earthquake, popping all over your skin and making you tingle. This…wasn’t too bad. 

You lathered up your facial scrub and gently moisturized your face, soothing the stiff areas. Your jaw popped as it loosened and you moaned from the relief. 

How long? How long have you spent outside of your body? A stranger to it? A foreigner to this vessel you carried around? Had you truly loved your body when you were so alien to it? Or had you just learned to layer on the armor and pretend? 

God, you felt like crying. With one session, Dr. Richmond already had you re-thinking your entire life. Like the answer was there in your face the entire time and you just needed him to shine a light on it. 

You rinsed your face while you grabbed a washcloth and lathered up with your favorite soap. You added body wash and then took your time trailing the washcloth around your body. Starting with your neck, you worked your way down to your chest. 

You took your time feeling the rough cloth against your smooth, watery skin. You rounded the washcloth across your nipples and they beaded under the slow torture. Oh, this was new. This was very nice. 

You were focused, letting the water act as a sound machine, lulling you into a further relaxed state. You followed the washcloth with your hand, moving over and under your areolas and nipples. You pinched your nipples and gave it a tug. You gasped from the responding tug in your pussy.

You moved on, remembering Dr. Richmond’s words about not making it sexual. But fuck, how could you not? 

Heat flushed beneath your skin that had nothing to do with the hot water on your body. You washed your back and then moved lower, skirting your throbbing pussy and washed your legs and dug the cloth between your toes. 

On the way up, your fingers glided around your mound, your hips pushing forward. Your breathing turned rapid, feeling yourself getting more and more excited. Your brain turned to mush, retreating from your actions. Like it wanted to picture something else. You shook your head, and started up with your Box breathing again.

You stopped mid-shower to reorient yourself and get yourself back into that zone of ultimate calm. If Dr. Richmond were there…

You focused on what he might say. There was no rush. There was no rulebook for this sort of thing. There was no reason to chastise yourself. There was no test to pass or box you had to check in order to achieve an orgasm. You just needed to relax, dammit. 

Slowly, achingly slow, you went back to that calm. You continued lathering up your body and then rinsed the soap off. You repeated the process, adding more soap to thoroughly wash your body. To enjoy the feel of the cloth and water and soap on your skin. On your body. 

“This is the only body you’ll ever have so it’s time to think beyond simple body maintenance. Admire your body.”

This was the only body you would ever have. It was time you stopped treating it like the enemy. 

You turned off the water and then got out. The chill air hit the water on your back and you shrieked and shivered, quickly drying off. You went through your nightly routine, taking care of your teeth, face, and deodorant. You sat down on a decorated stool in your bathroom to apply your lotion.

As instructed, you looked at your body. Every mole, every scar, every bump, and every wayward hair. Being in your body was weird to say the least. You had to disassociate to survive your childhood and you never learned to drop those defenses. Your body never realized that it wasn't at war anymore. Or perhaps it was and this was battle fatigue. You were so damn tired.

You massaged the lotion into your skin and then slipped in your panties. You pulled on an ankle bracelet you got while visiting New York once and it made you feel extra pretty, so why not. You turned on your bedside light and pulled out a notebook.

You started a new entry and wrote about the sensations and revelations you experienced. Some of it you would discuss with Dr. Richmond and some of it was never leaving your grave. It felt good to get it all out, uninterrupted.

Sometimes, venting to someone else just gave them room to talk over you. To steer the direction back to them. Brooklyn was like that. In an effort to relate, she ended up taking over the convo and made it about her situation. Then you ended up comforting her about her issue and never feeling truly heard about yours.

In a journal however, you pretended that you were just relaying it to a friend. The type of friend who allowed you to speak. To get your jumbled thoughts out without getting mad or trying overshadow you. 

Done, you collapsed against your bed as if every ounce of strength left your body. You breathed through it, allowed your body to rest for a moment. The hell kind of voo-doo shit did your therapist put you through?

Immediately, warning bells went off in your mind. Surely, you would be whisked away to some super important task around the house. Surely, your phone would ring with some awful accident you had to attend to. Surely…nothing. You were drained. You had nothing. 

You had just enough energy to put the journal up, turn off the light, and drift off to the deepest sleep of your life.

Terry

Tasia bounced like a porn star on Terry’s dick and it wasn’t doing a damn thing for him. He felt himself getting soft the more Tasia shuddered with her pleasure. At least one of them was having fun. 

Maybe he rushed this. Too intent on getting you out of his mind that he hopped immediately into Tasia’s warm heat and didn’t consider that there was no substitution. He knew it was irrational to be drawn to you so fast. After only one session. He was conflicted on that front, but it went beyond just looks. 

Your case, your assessments, your willingness to try, and your obvious smarts was a cocktail shooting through his veins and turning his body liquid. The perfect sub was dropped into his lap and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

And as a man used to getting his way in the bedroom, it stuck in his craw that he couldn’t have you. That it wasn’t your pussy that his dick disappeared inside of. Would you moan loudly? Were you shy in the bedroom? Were you enthusiastic? 

What would your mouth look like taking the full length of him? How far down could you suck him? Did that same determination translate to the bedroom?

Tasia grunted beneath him as his dick rose back to life, thoughts of you turning him harder than a brick. He could build a house with how hard he was at the moment, picturing the curves on your body. The natural handles in your waist for his big hands to wrap around. To hold.

He moaned, picturing it all so clearly. His thumbs would dig into your back. The sounds you would make. His hips jerked just thinking of pounding into you. No mercy. You weren’t some fragile flower. Your insightful thoughts were like a mirror to his own. He wanted to explore with you. And the fact that he couldn’t had him pulling Tasia’s hair back.

“Call me Dr. Richmond,” he commanded.

“Yes, D-Dr. Richmond,” Tasia moaned. It was starting to piss him off. 

“Softer,” he said.

“Yes, Dr. Richmond,” she said, bringing her voice lower, softer. It was nowhere near your voice, but it’d do for the fantasy he concocted in his head. He didn’t have time for any extra tricks tonight. He just needed to get to the other side of his nut. 

He closed his eyes and thought about your case. He wondered if you were doing as you were told. He wondered how well you would take commands in the bedroom. If he even had to give commands at all. If you’d instinctively know what he needed when he needed it. Tasia used to know that. Tasia used to have him out of breath. 

Now…she was a beautiful girl with deep mocha skin, a cute face, and wide expressive eyes. She was like a little doe in a meadow somewhere. He was attracted to the overall softness of her and of her body. The natural way she seemed to know what he needed. 

Perhaps it was him that had changed. His tastes. He was no longer interested in a casual sub-relationship. Perhaps he wanted a more permanent sub. One he could explore every single nasty fantasy with and never get bored. He was getting older, getting into his early-thirties without a significant partner.

And that was what he wanted. A partner. An equal. Someone he raced home to see or spent his days thinking about how he would break her and put her back together like a puzzle box. 

Terry groaned and came into the condom, gripping Tasia’s asscheeks for dear life. It was one of the hardest climaxes he ever experienced. His release triggered hers, causing her to fall forward as her pussy gripped his dick. 

He pulled out and immediately disposed of the condom, coming back to help clean up Tasia. 

“That was…different,” she said, using the word in place of something else. He didn’t want his reputation to slacken in that regard, but hell, this whole thing had been a mistake. He still made sure she came twice before he did, but he usually put more oomph into his sexual exploits. 

He usually had Tasia popping her pussy on his face, or contorting her like a pretzel. Now…he was just over it. Over trying to impress someone that wasn’t permanent in his life. That he couldn’t play with whenever he wanted. He was no longer excited at the prospect of making many women cum. He just wanted to make one cum over and over again. He wanted to collect each one like trophies. 

Terry grabbed Tasia’s hand and kissed the back of it. “Forgive me. Tonight should’ve probably been a gym night,” he said. He smiled for good measure, but it was a close-lipped smile.

“Oh, I’m not complaining. That dick still know how to rock my world,” she said. She stood up, pulling on her sweats and sweatshirt, and slipping on her sneakers. He sat down on the bed and watched her, not feeling an ounce of desire. 

She leaned over and grabbed his chin, making him look up at her. “You take care of yourself and whatever or whoever got you in this funk. And if you need more relief, you know my number,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with another close-lipped smile. Tasia had been one of his longest play partners, he’d be sorry to see her go. She smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek, showing herself out. 

Terry sat in his fancy bedroom in his fancy house, staring at the empty archway Tasia disappeared through. His mind and body told him that he was ready for something more. Something tangible. Something he could hold and never let go. He only hoped he found it soon.

You

You clutched your journal to your chest as you sat in Dr. Richmond’s office. Nothing about it had changed except the man himself. He chose to wear a cream colored outfit. A soft, oatmeal colored sweater and khaki pants with white sneakers. His gold rimmed glasses flashed every so often from the light overhead and you couldn’t help catching every single thing about him. If only to distract you from your racing thoughts.

It was one thing to live in your body when you were in the comfort of your own bathroom. Your mind escaped once more, retreated to the safest place you knew. Your knee bounced with nervousness. 

“You don’t have to share if you don’t want to. This is a safe space. It’s your space. You get to decide what we do here,” he said. 

You closed your eyes to the sound of his voice. If he wasn’t so damn helpful, you’d ask for someone else. Literally, anyone else. But he was the first therapist to give you a glimpse of the other side. You wanted that more than you were embarrassed.

“No, I want to share. I need to share,” you said. You licked your lips and then cracked open your journal. You skimmed over things you didn’t want to reveal just yet. Too embarrassing for a second meeting, of course.

“I think…I think my mind is safer. I am constantly on alert that I’m “doing the right thing”, as opposed to what actually makes me happy,” you said. 

When you didn’t say anything, Terry leaned back in his seat. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing the golden brown of his forearms. Your mind emptied of any other thought until he cleared his throat. “Can you expand on that?” 

You looked up into his eyes before heat rushed to your ears. You looked back at your journal, focusing on that rather than his lush, pink lips. 

You told him more about how you reached this conclusion. That there was a standard for being Black that you never quite achieved. That at any moment, multiple mobs of people were coming for your Black card. Or, you were constantly trying to over-achieve at school. You had to work twice as hard, had to be the smartest in the class, because if you came home with a B, your mom went on a long rant about being stupid and never achieving anything real in life. Or how everyone praised you at work for going above and beyond and then got mad when you couldn’t sustain it. You were constantly on the lookout for someone else’s standard.

“I have so many fucking voices in my ear, telling me to do this or do that. And I fucking hate it. Which is wild considering that that’s what I seek in a sexual partner,” you said.

Dr. Richmond smiled and nodded. “Your mind is trying to re-contextualize your upbringing. Being submissive is actually about putting yourself in the position of power. A dom is only as good as how well he treats his sub. It’s about the ultimate act of trust on the submissive’s part,” he explained.

“Yes! And how can I trust that someone isn’t going to…take what I say or want and abuse that or make fun of me for it?” You asked. You played with the corner of your journal, not willing to look at Dr. Richmond. You didn’t need to see the pathetic pity in his steel blue eyes. 

“You have to stand resolute in what you want. You have to recognize that pleasure and sex is about give and take. Trust and acceptance. The right partner isn’t going to make fun of you, abuse you, or rush you,” he said. 

You sighed and leaned back on the brown sofa. You felt like you were chasing a unicorn. What kind of guy was willing to be dominant and care about your needs? Reassure you when you needed and took control when your body sent massive panicked waves at him? Took care of the trust you were placing in him to help you relax and cum? While also being physically attractive to you and have you be attracted to him; not a chubby chaser, not a creep, and not an abuser? 

It was impossible. Hopeless.  

“If you’re comfortable, tell me more about what you found,” he said.

You took your mind off of your dream mystery man. When the fuck was it going to be your turn? 

You scanned your journal once more, noting the sensations about actually living inside your body. “I think when I feel an orgasm approaching, I get scared. And that could be part of why I’m blocking it, but even when I’m alone, I don’t know what it feels like. Or…”

“Or…?” Dr. Richmond prompted. 

You grimaced. Fuck, this was so hard to put into words. Too hard to expose yourself like this. But did you want to reach your sixties, seventies, never having a true orgasm? Never finding your way to actual release? 

“Or, there’s no way to control the orgasm,” you said.

Dr. Richmond nodded. “The goal isn’t to control it, you know,” he said. 

“I know!” You groaned and stood up. You thought better on your feet. Or maybe when you had something to do, you were better able to regulate the jumble of emotions inside of you. No wonder your emotions were all over the place. You spent too long disassociating, too long in your mind and not enough in your body. 

“What benefit do you get from being in control all the time?” The scratch of his pen on the notebook drew your attention to him. To his pretty face, dark eyelashes, and push lips. You watched as he wrote in his notebook. Watched the lines and planes of his gorgeous face. His short curled afro. 

“If I’m in control, if I never look weak or stupid or incompetent, then I win. I win at life. And all my bullies, from school to home are all wrong. There’s nothing wrong with me because I know what to do. I know what to say. I’m not an alien,” you said, taking a deep breath at the revelation.

Whatever your insurance company was paying him, they needed to double it. You admitted things you never had in the past. Your previous therapists attacked your problem sex first, focusing on different methods you could try. Some wanted you to describe, in detail, whatever you did to get yourself off. Safe to say they weren’t practicing ever again. 

“Do you believe there’s something wrong with you?” He asked. He leaned back in his seat, giving you an unflinching stare. His face gave away nothing, revealed nothing, as you thought through his question. 

“All the fucking time. Why else do friends keep leaving me? Or guys don’t want me? Or my mom is…my mom,” you said. 

“Have you considered that you aren’t the problem?” He asked.

“How could I not be? I’m the only common denominator,” you said. You flopped back onto the couch but it wasn’t that soft. It thudded under your weight and you took a deep breath. Fuck, you wanted to cry. Tears pricked your eyes, turning them hot and itchy. You refused to cry in front of this man. 

This strange, quiet man who seemed to read you like one of the many books on his bookshelf. No wonder he had so many degrees. He could drag a full confession from a mute. 

“That may be true. But, bear with me, consider that you aren’t the problem. If you take yourself out of the equation, what are you left with?” He asked. He leaned forward on his desk and the sudden intensity of the question made your mind blank.

You had…nothing. No explanation, no back up. You were used to making yourself the problem. The issue had to be you. If it wasn’t you…

You shrugged your shoulders and looked away from him. The silence stretched on, so quiet you could hear the quiet tick of the clock on the wall. 

“Don’t shy away now, dig into it. If it’s not you, then…?” Dr. Richmond prompted. 

The question only seemed to make you clamp up. Your tongue swelled. Your throat constricted. If it wasn’t you, then what? Everyone was incapable of giving you what you wanted? Everyone just had an agenda against you? Please, that was narcissistic as hell. 

Dr. Richmond stood up from his desk and took off his glasses. He pulled out a drawer and retrieved a glass cleaner cloth. He cleaned his glasses and walked around the front of his desk.

“Consider, for a moment, that other people have deficiencies as well. That people congregate in groups because biologically, it’s safer. We seek groups to be in and when we can’t find one, we tend to think that we’re the problem. That we are outcasts, getting left out to defend ourselves. But all that means is that we haven’t found our group yet. You’re trying to fit a round peg into a square hole. You don’t belong with the squares, so no, you won’t fit in with them. 

“The same goes for sex. Everybody has their preferences. People have their kinks, their needs. When those needs aren’t meant, society teaches us to look at our own deficiencies rather than someone else’s. Perhaps the man you need sexually is far different from the men you take to bed,” he said. He waved around his glasses as he spoke, drawing attention to his massive hands. 

Seriously, they were huge. Like two lion paws that could strike down someone with one hit. He held his glasses by the frame, waving it around delicately as he spoke. You were still paying attention to his words, but fuck…he was unreal. 

“But how do I find the man that I need sexually?” You asked.

Terry

Terry inwardly groaned as you asked him that. Plenty of suggestions came to mind, each too crass to suggest. How could he tell you to go into another man’s arms? How could he send you to another man to unleash that hidden hellcat within you and he wouldn’t get to experience it? 

He needed to end this. End this before it even began. He placed his glasses back on his face and crossed a line that he never thought he would. “I think we have more work to do to adjust the way you think about sex before we get into how you attract what you’re seeking. In fact, I’d suggest you abstain from sex until we get deeper into this,” he said.

“Abstain?” You snorted and he fought a smile. Your face showed absolute disgust, like the mere thought was abhorrent. 

“Abstain. From what you’ve told me and what’s in your file, you jumped from overcoming your initial thoughts and reluctance about sex right to jumping into bed. Without really, truly exploring yourself first. Kids explore their bodies all the time right? They grow conscious of themselves and start thinking about hey, my equipment is different from someone else’s equipment,” he said.

You couldn’t help but giggle and it caused him to smirk in return. Yes, it was silly. Talking about sex was silly. But it was true. “And as you start to notice people that you’re attracted to, you start to grow conscious of hormones in your system. Brain chemistry. All the fun stuff that goes into attraction. You start to touch yourself more, explore your preferences through porn or books or experimentation.”

You cringed when he brought up experimentation. He tilted his head. “Did you go through an experimentation phase?” He asked.

You closed your eyes and sighed as if it were the last question you wanted to answer. You completely fascinated him. He had no idea what would come out of your mouth next. How you would respond to certain questions or ideas. 

He snuck a glance at the clock, he was nearing the end of the session. He flexed his jaw. This was so damn irritating. By the time you were willing to open up, it was time to end it. He wished he could carve out a month of sessions to get you to lower your defenses and let him inside. 

“No? I grew up in the wrong generation. All everyone thought about was sex and while I did too, no one was checking for the fat Black nerds unless it was a prank. And I saw everything as a prank. I was always getting pointed at, made fun of, stared at. Jesus, being exposed fucking sucks! So, no, I didn’t experiment. There was no one to fucking experiment with. 

“And it wasn’t like I could go ten feet from my mom without her up my ass about where I was going. Claiming she just didn’t want me to get snatched when all she really wanted was just to control me. To not let me end up like her. Young and pregnant,” you practically yelled, spewing way more vitriol than he expected.

He figured it was a sore spot for you by the way you grimaced, but he hadn’t been expecting…that. Again, he balled his fists thinking of every person that ever let you down. Every person that was supposed to uplift you, guide you, help you, all dropped the ball in teaching you about self love.

Every experience every kid was supposed to have was denied to you. Instead of being asked out with interest, with sincerity, boys treated it like a prank. He was wild in his youth, he wasn’t always nice to people, or he went through life like a little gremlin. But he liked to think he mellowed somewhat in high school. Treating everyone with respect. From the nerds to the jocks. He didn’t know what not trusting people’s words felt like. Like everything that someone said came laced with poisoned barbs ready to sting. 

“This is so fucking stupid,” you whispered. Your lip trembled but no tears fell down your face. 

Fuck, even now you were trying to hold everything in. Control a natural response to something painful. “When was the last time you cried?” Terry asked.

You stood up and snatched your purse and journal from the couch. “Session’s up, right?” You asked. You avoided looking at him as you rushed to the exit. The faux glass door clanged against the wall as you threw open the door and left, steps echoing on the linoleum flooring. 

He stared at the door as it lazily swung back and he wondered. And he pondered. 

Wheww, need more? The Secret Terry Richmond Files | Part 1

Taglist: You guys, ya'll gon make me cry with this taglist! Thank you!

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@thegreatlibraryofalex @amyhennessyhouse @hihellogoodbyebruh @becauseimswagman1

[itsa-me-lily]

God I love this au, it's feeding me so good today. The last one with the part about only one bedroom has me thinking about a sick reader, the gross kind of sick where you're sweaty and wheezy and snotty, and the fact that if it were anyone else Simon would be quarantining them. But because it's his spouse, he wakes up to you nasally wheezing and mouth breathing while sprawled across him, and all he can think about is when you're due for your next round of medicine and if he needs to buy more tissues.

Sometimes love comes coated in mucus, and is reciprocated with an artificial cherry taste. Also do the guinea pigs have names and what do they look like?

I'm dying. This is the first ever ask I've ever gotten (that I recall) and I'm going to pass away. Also "sometimes love comes coated in mucus, and is reciprocated with an artificial cherry taste" that is such a good line, I'm apologizing in advance if I steal it.

Also warning for content of being sick, this is based off my last bout of plague.

Also Also Here's the Masterlist

Bedsharing in general does not happen at first. (Now I want to percolate an idea about sharing the bed for the first time). You're way to use to having your own bed that sharing with someone means you're not sleeping easily and I think Simon would rather sleep with the guinea pigs in their cage than have another human being that close to him when he sleeps. (This was also not something he initially thought about when being told a spouse was to be picked)

So what's the solution? Obviously bunk beds! Kind of, sorta...okay not really but the look on Simon's face when you had suggested getting bunk beds had been entertaining. Who knew so much indignation could come through a medical mask. Really his eyebrows did so much talking.

With the dream of bunkbeds dashed, the next best solution was either two twin beds crammed into the bedroom with a bedside's worth of space between them, or a pull out couch. You managed to find a couch same day that didn't terribly clash with the artwork you have yet to hang up.

You two actually manage to come up with a schedule for who slept where. Obviously you'd get the bed when Simon was deployed, made no sense for you not to. And when he was home the bed was all his unless he was having a night that he knew he wasn't going to trust a deadbolt to keep monsters at bay. Then he made himself comfortable, TV playing low until he managed a few hours in the early morning before you try to leave a silently as you can for work.

(Funny thing, even if you aren't sharing a bed traditionally, you both most certainly have your own sides, along with bed stands that told two different stories)

The first time you get sick is when Simon is technically deployed. Well actually, the day he returns is the day you spike a 101.8 fever and work forces you to go home so you don't become a walking petri dish and expose the college kids that come into your office.

Once you're home you appease the little beasts demanding some sort of vegetal boon, change into the rattiest clothes you have, and then huddle under a staggering amount of blankets that have made their home on your bed. (Simon may have side eyed them when you first set them out, but you've seen the mountain he creates under them, you knew the magic of weighted blankets)

Sleep isn't peaceful, you hadn't broken out the Nyquil quite yet, but you do manage to drift off for a few hours. And then the coughing starts. It's the kind that's a bitch to deal with, dry and pushing your ribs to the limit with how often they can expand and contract. By the time Simon comes home you've steamed yourself twice, taken only a smidge over the recommended amount of cough suppressant, and slathered yourself with Vic's Vaporub. All in all, you were properly miserable.

You're in the kitchen, staring into the abyss of your over-steeping tea as if it will magically make you feel better if you only sell your soul to it, really a tempting offer, when the wheeks of the pigs announce that another person they know has arrived.

If Simon wasn't clued in that something was off at seeing you home before the end of your work day, the pungent smell of menthol would have been a dead give away. You're still communing with your tea when he knocks against the wall, pulling you out of the deal for your soul to meet him with bleary eyes and a flushed face.

You croak out a greeting that makes Simon wince in sympathy, though that's about all he really does. Simon doesn't really do pleasantries and doting probably wouldn't be the first word people use to describe him, so with your brain function reduced by an overflow of mucus and fever, the kitchen was rather silent.

Until you started coughing, face buried into the crook of your elbow to try to keep your contagion to a minimum and back bowing to nearly double you over. That drives Simon to action, coming to try to keep you up incase you collapse, grabbing your free arm.

When you feel him touch you, you try to pull away, shaking your head and finally finishing your bout, gasping a little as you try to daunting task of breathing and speaking to dissuade him from getting close lest he catches what you have. He clearly wasn't persuaded, hands clenching and unclenching like he simply wanted to pick you up and put you...somewhere.

How exactly Simon Riley would take care of you, he didn't know but he'd be damned sure to at least try. He'd been left to fend for himself while sick before and he didn't like the idea of you going through that. When it was clear that he wasn't going to just leave you to your suffering you relented enough to try to reach a compromise; if he'd be alright watching the pigs while you were sick that would be more useful than a nursemaid while you camped out on the couch.

That...that was something Simon could do. He'd watched how you took care of the boys, surely this was something he could do. And then his brain caught up to the rest of what you had said. There was no way he was going to let you sleep on some pull out couch, as nice as it was. Being Sick meant sleeping in a proper bed, on a mattress that didn't spend it's days folded up.

You tried to insist it was alright but he wouldn't listen to a word of it. Instead he practically herded you back to the bedroom, ignoring your murmurs of your abandoned hot beverage. He didn't lift you to plop you onto the bed itself but it was a near thing. He had to bribe you with the promise of a proper cup of tea for you to even lay your head on your pillow, eyes already heavy with the need for sleep. By the time he had actually made a cup you were out for the count, nasally mucus filled snores letting him know you hadn't perished in the time it took him.

The next few days were filled with mucus, the attempted escape of your lungs via coughing fits, and more Vics than the human body should be exposed to. And the entire time you insisted that you could fend for yourself. Simon didn't push to play nurse, but your tissues never ran out, a dose of medication was always ready on your bedside, and a warm cup of tea stood waiting for you after each nap, like a solider committed to his guard.

Edit;

I'm going to make a separate post for the guinea pigs, because honestly I'm torn on if they're based on my guinea pigs I used to have, or guinea pigs I'd want to have in the future

[coolsketchablestuff]

Welcome to my atrocious shipping chart, I apologize in advance

Their opinions on eachother:

Headcanons below:

I've been having a story going on in my mind and it's just progressively evolved over time and this is the culmination of that specifically, so I'll try to explain the context of it here:

MAIN THING HERE IS THAT THE BEASTS (for the most part) "GET ALONG" WITH THEIR OTHER HALF

In my au thingy once they get along both half's get stronger, as if the soul jam becomes more whole (yes the ancients still ascended and reclaimed their soul jams as the rightful owners)

Burning Spice:

Got defeated by golden Cheese Cookie, after she left and he awoke from under the rubble of his castle he went to seek her out, to continue the battle, he wanted to be defeated, to be bested by the only worthy opponent, it was his DESTINY to crumble to her hands, he desired it so much. When he found and re-challenged her, she originally did fight him, but upon seeing how badly he wanted to be destroyed she decided to make him one of her treasures. At first he HATED it and would remind her how he could destroy all of it if he wanted to, but after months of slowly wearing him down he's now her right hand cookie and personal guard, very quick to fight anyone who gets to close to her radiance, he is referred to by the kingdom as "his anarchist".

Shadow milk cookie:

(because his actual story will be coming out soon I'm so paranoid about having to retcon this in the future) he has defeated pure vanilla cookie, finally! After so long!!! But wait, why didn't this victory feel right..? Why was the soul jam not reacting properly? Upon vanilla cookie crumbling should it not go back to him? Spoiler alert, no, no it did not as he was not worthy of it and the light was actively fading, as he began to slowly feel weaker with the progressive fading, having to think fast and make a decision he was not sure if he'd regret, he put all of knowledge to use and revive pure vanilla, centuries of being the representative of knowledge sure does come in handy! Ever since that day and discovering if the light fades so would he, he's tried to stay close to pure vanilla out of convenience, over time it becoming an actual friendship, though he is still overly protective/possessive of him to make sure no one hurts him.

Explanation of the relationships:

Golden cheese

- appreciates how Pure Vanilla's kindness is not conditional and relishes in the praise, though she's worried over him slowly spending less time with White Lily

- loves how loyal Burning Spice is, she is aware he's obsessed with her but she interprets it as him being greedy for her attention (it kinda is ngl)

- has fun doing stuff with shadow milk cookie, they like going to events together like parties and just messing around, they can joke with each other comfortably

Burning Spice

- kinda obsessed with Golden Cheese, seeing her as the only cookie allowed to be stronger than him, he doesn't let other cookies fight her as they're "not worthy"

- mostly sees pure vanilla as one of Golden Cheese's treasures and feels an obligation to her radiance to protect him. Is too uncomfortable to get closer to PV because he reminds him so much of pre-corruption Shadow Milk

- the new shadow milk cookie is definitely more lively, and ever since SM got along with PV his pranks have become more harmless which is enjoyable, one of his oldest buddies

Pure Vanilla

- Golden Cheese is one of his oldest friends, after everything that has happened he doesn't want to lose his friends again, he's slowly spending more time with her as White Lily is busy with other stuff and after everything he just wants to spend time with his friends

- after learning to get along with eachother, shadow milk is actually enjoyable to be around! They can talk about intellectual magic stuff, enjoy food and drinks, play games like chess, or just spend time together in comfortable silence

- does not have any strong opinions on burning spice as they do not talk much, though he isn't sure why considering how often they hang out, PV is confident he's seen BS looking at him sometimes when he thinks he isn't looking

Shadow milk

- pure vanilla is calming, when they feel worked up over something he's always there, PV is helping him get along better with cookies

- Golden Cheese Cookie is (currently) his best friend, they jokingly got along under the pretense on not being huge on WL but their friendship kept improving

- it's too much fun to prank burning spice, like SURE he could just find something they both find fun but as long as BS doesn't how actual disdain towards them he's not gonna stop! He loves to tease him too :)c

If I think of anything else I might add It? Idk, genuinely I just like having good guys in media make the bad guys nice, I enjoy "I can fix him" so much, THE ANCIENTS FIX THE BEASTS I SWEAR

[keepingitformyself]

there’s been no way for me to say (that i felt a certain way)

Synopsis: natasha romanoff has loved you for ages and she could never seem to get it right.

pairings: natasha romanoff x reader

genre: college AU, fluff and angst.

warnings: angst?

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

natasha met you in a very peculiar way.

it started at a friends of a friends party, in some internet starlet’s brooklyn loft.

drinks were going around, the music was loud, the smell of marijuana was very strong. she doesn’t quite remember it— after having been to a bunch of parties they all seem to blur into one— but she knows it was enough to leave a lasting impression on her.

she’d heard your piercing laugh from across the room. you, in a tight tank top and some black slacks. she could see the shine of sweat against your skin, the colorful lighting of the room making you seem so beautifully human.

everything sort of froze in the coming moments. she watched as you took your top off without a second thought. you were about to shotgun a beer and you stood tall as you did it atop the kitchen island. you didn’t need the attention, nor did you want it, but you had it.

it was a simple behavior. but it stayed with natasha long after you had crushed the beer can and tossed it on the floor somewhere.

natasha thinks you never notice her staring for the rest of the night but you do.

weeks later she sees you again at another party.

clint, wanda, tony and everyone else joins her this time. she isn’t surprised when she sees you. it was the same crowd, similar friend groups. but this time you made it easy for her to approach you.

somehow you end standing next to eachother near where all the drinks had been laid out.

"hey," you said, voice casual but warm. "didn’t expect to see you here again."

natasha smiled, though she hadn’t expected to talk to you at all. nor did she think you noticed her. "i guess we have similar taste in parties."

you laughed lightly. “guess so."

there was a beat of silence before you added, “you know, you were kinda staring at me last time.”

natasha froze for a second, unsure how to respond. she hadn’t thought you’d noticed. but before she could stammer out an excuse, you were already grinning.

“i’m just messing with you. it was funny. i didn’t think anyone would care enough to notice me.”

natasha was relieved, yet still unsure if you were actually joking. either way she felt this was going better than she planned.

the night wore on and you guys carried easy conversation. natasha was still unsure how to even approach talking to you. she felt kind of shy. so she improvised by making references to things she didn’t think you’d get, but you almost always did.

you dropped a reference to something obscure, a movie natasha had once obsessed over, and natasha stared at you for a moment longer than was socially acceptable. she couldn’t stop herself.

“you’re really into that, huh?” she said, and just like that, the bond started to form. it wasn’t immediate or instant, not the kind of connection that screams “best friends forever.” no, it was something stranger, something subtler, like two different puzzle pieces that had almost fit, only to get pushed back together by sheer happenstance.

“your references are spot on.” you laughed. natasha smiled at how easy you made it for her to be around you.

you and natasha started seeing each other more, slowly building this weird, unspoken routine. she’d text you at random, making some kind of sarcastic comment or joke only you would get, and you’d shoot back a meme that only someone with your specific sense of humor would understand. over time, you both ended up in the same circles, passing each other in the hallways of the university, at class, at parties—always just a little bit more than acquaintances, but never quite crossing into the territory of “best friends.”

there was something comfortable about it. easy, even. but for natasha, it was also strange. the more she saw you, the more she felt like there was something else there, something neither of you wanted to acknowledge. maybe it was a crush. maybe it was more than that.

it wasn’t as though either of you had been completely oblivious to the passing of time, to the fact that you were both growing older, moving through college with the same bittersweetness that everyone else felt. and yet, there was still this distance between you, an unspoken barrier that neither of you had broken down.

natasha thought about you a lot more than she’d like to admit. how she so badly wanted to cross the line between friendship and something more.

by senior year, natasha couldn’t ignore it anymore. her feelings for you weren’t just fleeting glances or passing thoughts. they were there, constant, sitting beneath her skin, running through her mind like a song she couldn’t shake. but it wasn’t just a crush. it was more. she could feel it. she knew it.

the desperation kept getting worse.

it was a slow burn.

you were months set from graduating, natasha felt it was time she’d try to test her luck.

it was late into the evening at yet another party—music blaring, laughter echoing through the crowded living room, and cups of cheap beer littering the tables. one last semester before graduation, before the "real world" set in. natasha was sitting on the couch, leaning against the back with her legs stretched out in front of her. her eyes roamed the room, scanning for someone to talk to. and then she saw you.

you were in the middle of a conversation with clint and wanda, your hands animatedly gesturing as you told some wild story about a disastrous trip to the beach, the kind of tale that had everyone in stitches. natasha couldn’t help but smile from across the room. there was something magnetic about you—how you lived so fully, how you pulled everyone into your orbit without even trying. natasha had been watching you for months now, always on the edge of your space, always wishing she could be more than just a silent observer.

she didn’t know when it started—when the simple admiration had turned into something else. but now, as she watched you laugh with your friends, something in her chest tightened. this wasn’t a crush she could just ignore.

it wasn’t the first time natasha had thought about asking you out. but tonight felt different. maybe it was the proximity of graduation, the sudden realization that this was it—that you both were on the brink of leaving behind this chaotic, unmoored time in your lives. she could either stay on the sidelines or take the chance.

she stood up, smoothing out her jacket and walking across the room. her friends—clint, wanda, and sam—noticed her approaching and exchanged knowing glances, all but daring her to make a move. natasha could feel the weight of their stares, but she ignored them. she focused only on you.

"hey," she said, stepping into the conversation, a little breathless from the nerves she’d kept hidden.

you turned, giving her that warm smile you always did. "hey, nat! what’s up?"

"not much, just wanted to, uh, ask you something," natasha began, her usual confidence faltering just a little.

“i was thinking about heading to this bar later, just to get away from all… this,” she gestured vaguely to the party around them, “and i was wondering if you wanted to join me? for drinks. just us. you know, before we all get caught up in the whole graduation mess.”

it was casual, maybe too casual. but natasha didn’t want to make it seem like a big deal. not with everyone watching.

there was a pause, just a beat too long, before you looked at her, a faint frown pulling at your brow. you were processing. “uh,” you hesitated, glancing at your friends.

clint, wanda, and sam all turned their heads at the same time, giving you the slightest raise of their brows. you bit your lip, clearly unsure, and natasha’s heart sank a little at the hesitation.

"i mean," you said slowly, looking back at natasha. "we’re friends, nat. i just… i’m not sure."

it was a gentle rejection, but it stung all the same. natasha swallowed, masking her disappointment with a shrug. "no, yeah, of course. no pressure." she let out a quiet laugh, her hand rubbing the back of her neck, trying to laugh it off. "i was just messing with you. don't worry about it."

you nodded, a small, apologetic smile on your lips. "i mean, i’d love to hang out more, just—"

"totally fine," natasha interrupted, her voice light but edged with something that made her own heart ache. she smiled, keeping it neutral. "maybe some other time."

she turned away quickly, but she felt your eyes on her as she walked back to the couch, her friends watching the entire scene unfold. clint raised his brows, and natasha just shook her head, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of knowing how deeply that small exchange had affected her.

but inside, it stung. it stung more than she cared to admit. it wasn’t just a small rejection. it was the fear that maybe you had noticed her feelings all along and were just too scared to say anything about it.

that night, natasha tried to sleep, but her thoughts wouldn’t stop racing. you were everything she had wanted, but in this strange, liminal space, neither of you had been brave enough to admit it.

weeks passed, the semester came to an end, and graduation day loomed on the horizon. natasha and you both moved on in your own ways, starting to make plans for life after college. but something lingered. something unsaid. life became a little more faster, and faces got a little older.

you reached out to her a few times. it was never the same as before. it was different now, with this strange tension lingering between you both. but you kept in touch, as if you both were afraid of letting go of something that might have been, something that might have still been.

and maybe it was ridiculous, natasha thought, but she was okay with it. she had loved you for years, and maybe that was the most honest thing she could admit to herself.

because even if you two had never been the closest of people, you’d always been there. always in the background, always in between. and somehow, that was enough for natasha. enough for her to hold on to the hope that maybe, one day, you’d both be able to finally figure it out.

it had been two years since you both left the university. two years where natasha had started a career in marketing, constantly moving up, climbing the corporate ladder while trying (and failing) to suppress the things she didn’t want to feel about you. she had dated, of course. a couple of short-term relationships, nothing serious. but nothing had ever lasted, and she had never quite understood why until now. the answer had always been there, hovering just out of reach, in the form of a text, a call, a passing thought about you.

as for you, you’d moved across the country for a job in graphic design. you didn’t think much about natasha at first. life had been busy—new city, new friends, new routine—but every now and then, you'd wonder if she'd thought of you. if she remembered how everything had felt when you were both on the brink of something, but never quite dared to cross the line.

and then it happened.

it wasn’t planned. it wasn’t expected. but one saturday evening, natasha found herself sitting at a bar in brooklyn after a long week at work. she’d had a rough day. one of those days where everything felt like too much. and then, as she nursed her gin and tonic, she heard someone call her name.

it was a voice she hadn’t heard in what felt like forever.

“natasha?”

she turned, already recognizing the voice before she even saw your face. and there you were, standing in the doorway of the bar like a memory coming to life. your hair had grown a little longer, and you looked different, older in a way that made Natasha’s heart skip a beat. but you were still you—the same you who had been in those parties, those late-night study sessions, the one who had always made her laugh with a look or a passing reference.

for a moment, neither of you said anything. just stood there, eyes locking, as if trying to figure out whether this was real.

“i didn’t know you were in new york,” natasha said, her voice betraying the sudden weight in her chest. she couldn’t keep the smile from forming, even though she tried.

“i wasn’t planning on being,” you said, grinning. “work sent me here for a few weeks. i was meeting some friends, but it’s been a while, so i thought i’d just see if you were around.”

it wasn’t exactly casual. but you both knew it wasn’t entirely random, either. it felt like fate had decided that you two were finally going to do this.

you sat down, and the conversation flowed as naturally as it always had. the awkwardness of the past melted away. you didn’t need to pretend anymore. there were no more games, no more hesitations.

just you and natasha, picking up where you left off, though this time, the space between you felt a little different. there was an understanding now, a quiet knowing in the way you both spoke, a recognition that time had done its job.

“so…how’s life?” natasha asked, pushing her drink aside and leaning in a little closer.

you shrugged, but there was something different about you too, something less guarded. “it’s been alright. busy. but you know how that goes. i’ve been thinking about home, though. about—” you paused, then looked directly at natasha. “about people i should have kept in touch with.”

natasha’s heart was thudding in her chest, but she kept it together. she was a master of hiding emotions, after all. “yeah?” she asked, her voice softer now.

“yeah,” you said, with a smile that made natasha’s stomach flutter. “it’s funny how things work out. you don’t realize what you miss until you’re standing in front of it again.”

time had always been a strange thing between natasha and you—something both distant and close at the same time, like a thread that wound its way through your lives, never quite snapping, always lingering. you’d known each other for years, seen each other at parties, shared quiet moments, and laughed at the same jokes. but all that time, there had always been a hesitation. a space between the two of you, filled with something—something both of you had been aware of but had never dared to name.

it was the kind of thing that was easier to ignore in college, easier to pretend it wasn’t there while you were both busy with classes, with your lives, with the thrill of being young and not yet knowing what you wanted out of the world.

but that something between you had always been there, pulling at both of you, quiet but undeniable. the way you caught each other’s eyes a little too long. the way your conversations turned into something more meaningful without either of you intending it. the way natasha would see you at parties and catch her breath for just a moment. the way you’d smile, as if you both knew, but neither of you was brave enough to act on it.

you’d both dated people. tried relationships. but it had never lasted, had it? there was always that nagging feeling in the back of your mind—something missing, something not quite right. as if your lives couldn’t fit together because they weren’t ready to yet. you didn’t have the words for it, and neither did natasha. but you both knew. you always knew.

the things that had once seemed complicated—life, timing, fear—suddenly didn’t feel as big as they once had. there was a quiet honesty between you now, as if you both had grown enough to stop pretending you didn’t feel it. the awkwardness, the hesitation, the “maybe” that had been there before was gone.

it was you. it had always been you. and you knew it too.

“so,” natasha said after a beat, her voice softer now, quieter than before. “what are we doing here, really? we’re not strangers. we’ve known each other for, what, almost four years now?”

you looked at her, your lips curling into a smile that didn’t hide the tension in your gaze. “we’ve known each other longer than that,” you said. “we’ve always known.”

“i think i’ve always been afraid of this,” natasha admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “afraid that i’d say the wrong thing, or that it would mess things up between us. that maybe the timing was never going to be right.”

you nodded slowly. “i’ve been afraid of that too.” you paused, then added with a wry smile, “i was never good with timing.”

“maybe we don’t need perfect timing,” natasha said softly, her gaze meeting yours with something she hadn’t let herself feel before—a quiet certainty. “maybe it’s just the right time now. after all this time.”

you didn’t answer right away. you didn’t have to. instead, you reached across the bar, your hand brushing gently against hers, and just like that, it all clicked. there was no more hesitation. no more waiting. you both knew what this was, what it always had been.

“yeah,” you said, your voice low and certain. “i think you’re right.”

and that was it.

[makeitmingi]

When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 6]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.3K

Hongjoong's fingertipes tapped against the wooden surface of his desk. He was dressed in a plain white t shirt and dress pants, his white dress shirt discarded on the ground by his office door and his jacket on the couch.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

"Come in." Hongjoong sighed, looking up from the computer screen. Wooyoung came in, stepping around the bloodied dress shirt that was strewn on the ground.

"The tailor is coming in an hour to do the first round of adjustments for our suits." Wooyoung informed.

"Alright, thanks. I should go get cleaned up then." Hongjoong stood up.

"Did you get anything good from the guy?" Wooyoung asked as Hongjoong gathered his things. He had just tortured a guy for information. Hence, the bloodied dress shirt.

"Nothing we didn't already know. I swear it's like we're missing something. No one can give me what I want." Hongjoong growled.

"Everyone's tight lipped, hyung. Plus, it could be anyone aiming to take us down." Wooyoung shrugged.

"And don't worry, we've got more surveillance up. Someone is bound to slip up and when they do, we'll be there to deal with them." The younger added. Hongjoong nodded his head, threats to Ateez were never taken lightly. His attack happened a week ago but the jab to his reputation felt like a fresh wound.

"You know what you need, hyung? A night at the fight club." San, having overheard the conversation, poked his head through the open door of Hongjoong's office.

"I'm too busy to have a fight now." Hongjoong chuckled as he picked up his jacket and bloodied dress shirt.

"Let off some steam. Fine, if you don't want to fight, go race." San grinned.

"San's right. It's been a while since you've raced, hyung." Wooyoung giggled. Hongjoong shrugged in response but was actually considering it. He used to race all the time with Seonghwa.

"Okay, you two. Let me shower before the tailor comes." Hongjoong playfully shoved them aside before going to his bedroom.

"Hmm..." Closing one eye, Mingi raised the gun in his hand and steadily pressed the trigger.

"Woah." Yeosang used his hand to shield the sun over his eyes as he squinted at the target to see where Mingi's bullet had landed. Mingi did the same, finding the bullet hole on the target.

"I hate these new stabilisers. I'm switching back to my old brands." Mingi cursed, dismantling the gun at the table and switching out the new stabiliser with the old ones. Taking his arm, he did the same as before and shot the target.

"This new stabiliser is supposed to help heavier guns with the recoil. If it doesn't work then we'll switch back." Seonghwa noted.

"You try, hyung." Mingi stepped aside for Seonghwa to try it.

"It adds too much weight to the gun, it's uneven." Seonghwa said, holding his gun in his hand after switching to the new stabiliser. Mingi nodded in agreement.

"Add that for those who use silencers. It's gonna throw the entire aim of the gun off." Mingi replied.

"That's why I prefer to use these. No need for any added equipment or upgrades." Yeosang held his fists up with a grin.

"Yeah, no thanks." Seonghwa shook his head with a chuckle, taking a sip of his rum. He placed the crystal glass down and took aim, shooting the target in a distance.

"I see what you mean..." The older turned to Mingi, who hummed and drank his beer.

"Mr Park, Mr Kang and Mr Song, I've been told to inform you that the tailor is coming soon to make adjustments for your suits for the upcoming gala." The butler came out into the backyard where they were practicing. The three nodded and waved the butler off, he bowed and left them alone.

"I completely forgot about the gala to be honest, even if we have been involved in the planning of it all." Yeosang admitted honestly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well, we've all been busier than usual. And with Hongjoong's mother's passing, it's been different." Seonghwa said.

"Hmm, whether he admits it or not, Hongjoong hyung is still recovering." Mingi added.

"He is. He's just too stubborn to admit it. But he still knows his priorities so let's put our focus on the gala." Seonghwa told the two, who nodded obediently.

"Where's Yunho and Jongho?" When the 3 entered, Hongjoong descended down the stairs, seeing the two missing.

"Probably gaming." Wooyoung snickered.

"We were not gaming. We were busy making sure the new surveillance system is up and running. You were the one gaming with San." Jongho said, walking through the front door with Yunho.

"Damn, how did you know?" San winced.

"Did you think we would not have full surveillance of our own computer lab?" Yunho scoffed, sitting on the couch. As the boys sat together in the living room with drinks and snacks, they chatted and waited for the tailor to come.

"What's the theme we're going with for the gala?" Jongho asked. Everyone turned to Hongjoong since he was always the one in charge of deciding the theme.

"It's a surprise." Hongjoong smirked from his armchair, sipping the whiskey he had.

"Good afternoon, sirs." The tailor came in with his assistant, each of them wheeling in a rack of clothing.

"You can set up here." Seonghwa said.

"Thank you." The tailor bowed and the two left the racks, going back out to get their remaining supplies from their vehicle. Yeosang tried to peek under the black cloth that covered the racks.

"I'll be placing the mirror here." The tailor set the full length mirror by the glass doors so the natural sunlight would come in.

"As always, Mr Kim chose a very nice design for all of you." The tailor complimented.

"Show us already!" Mingi said impatiently. This was their regular tailor for such events so he was used to the boys, their behaviours, mannerisms and what they did for work. The tailor chuckled and pulled the cloth off the racks to reveal the 8 outfits that were hanging off the hangers.

"Oooh." The 7 boys were in awe. Hongjoong stood up, going for a closer look. He nodded in satisfaction. Each boy had a uniquely designed outfit but there was always a similar theme.

"Nice choice. I don't think we've done dark purple before." Seonghwa ran his fingers against the material.

"Dark purple velvet." Hongjoong corrected.

"A purple this dark can go with either gold or white gold. Very nice." Wooyoung whistled. Hongjoong nodded, that was the intention of the design.

"Yes! I got a cape!" San fist pumped at his dark purple velvet piece. Yeosang's was a double breasted jacket with a peaked lapel.

"Ooh, mine is a coat." Yunho held up the hanger with his name tagged, looking at the piece.

"This is yours." Hongjoong handed the hanger to his best friend. It was a three piece velvet suit; a waistcoat, a jacket and the same pants as everyone. Jongho's jacket had a shawl neckline so the collar of his white shirt could have overhang to create a contrast of colour.

"This is Mr Song's." The tailor gave Mingi his purple velvet coat. But unlike Yunho's, Mingi's was different in that there were no buttons, it had a shawl neckline.

"And you requested to wear your new bolo tie so I got you a fitting shirt instead of your usual flowy one." Hongjoong sighed.

"Oh yes, I forgot about that." Wooyoung chuckled. His suit was jacket was more form fitting with a notched lapel.

"Okay, we'll have you all change to make adjustments. For those that do not have a white shirt on your hanger, means you are meant to be without one." The tailor said.

Hongjoong's was a regular jacket with a peaked lapel, pants and a white shirt but his tie was made of the same purple velvet material.

"Oh yeah, this is your bow tie, Yeosang ah." Hongjoong handed the bow tie to the male when he stepped out.

"Are you sure I should wear this without a shirt on the inside?" Seonghwa raised an eyebrow as he walked down the stairs. Hongjoong nodded in confirmation, Seonghwa always looked good in the suits that he designed. He had an eye for design, knowing what points to highlight on each person.

"Mr Park." The tailor gestured to the mirro. Seonghwa stepped up and the tailor stood behind him with his assistant. Hongjoong stood by to observe.

"It's a bit loose around the waist. We'll gather it in more." The tailor said and his assistant took down the notes.

"Mingi ah, what accessories are you getting for us?" Hongjoong asked the taller male.

"I think, after looking at everyone, white gold would be nicer. There's more elegance to it. I'm afraid yellow gold stands out too much and not in a good way." Mingi replied.

"Sure. I'll leave it to you." The older said. Mingi saluted in reply.

"I chose for you two to have longer coats since you're both tall. It compliments your height well." Hongjoong informed.

"Thanks, hyung. You always know what looks good on us." Yunho grinned. One by one, the boys stepped up to the mirror for the tailor and Hongjoong to make adjustments. Hongjoong went last while the others changed out of their outfits.

"Bring in the shoulders a little. It's not sitting right." The captain told the tailor, who nodded. Once he was done, the tailor gathered all the suit pieces from each of them.

"Good job. Can't wait to see the final pieces." Hongjoong said.

"You won't be disappointed, Mr Kim. Have a nice day." With a bow, the tailor left with his assistant in tow.

"Oh! I have to go for a meeting! Send me a list of all the accessories that I'll need to get for the gala." Mingi said to everyone before running out of the house.

"I need a nap." Jongho stood up and excused himself too. Hongjoong went to get a refill of his drink.

"How are the logistics coming, Yunho?" He asked.

"It's going better than before. I've put together everything, according to suggestions that were made during our last meeting. The venue will be 90% done the night. The other 10% is stuff that is best prepared day of." Yunho replied. Seonghwa nodded with a small hum to show his approval.

"Wooyoung and I have been working on invites. The important ones, at least." Seonghwa informed.

"Good." Hongjoong nodded.

"Also, Seonghwa hyung, Mingi and I were testing the new stabilisers earlier. They're not good. Especially for those that are going to use heavier guns." Yeosang updated.

"Then stick to whatever is better and more comfortable for all of you." Hongjoong said.

"I think we should drop this guy as a supplier, he hasn't been bringing in good stuff for us." Yeosang suggested.

"Get our money back first. Then you can do whatever you want." Seonghwa replied and Yeosang nodded.

"Alright, I'm going to get ready for my fight tonight. Sure you don't want to join, hyung?" San grinned. Hearing that, Seonghwa raised an eyebrow at his best friend while Hongjoong cursed.

"Don't give me that look, Seonghwa. And I already told you I'm not fighting, San. I have no temptation to enter the ring. If I'm there, it's only to watch your fight." Hongjoong scoffed, hoping Seonghwa wouldn't nag him about his recovery.

"If there's a slot, I'll fight." Yeosang raised his hand.

"Great. There's always slots." San took his phone out and sent a text to the fight manager at his club.

"We should all go watch tonight." Wooyoung said. Hongjoong had too much work to do to watch the fight. Yeosang and San always won their fights anyway.

"Why don't you guys come celebrate at my club tonight? After the fight." Hongjoong suggested.

"Yay! Free drinks at Hongjoong hyung's." The boys cheered.

"You guys can pay for your own drinks! You'll have winning money to use, no need for free drinks." Hongjoong hissed, making all of them laugh and ignore him.

"In the mean time, back to work." Seonghwa got up and headed to his office. San and Yeosang went to get ready for their fight.

"Game time." Yunho and Wooyoung fist pumped, slinging their arms around each other and going to the computer room to game. Hongjoong chuckled with a shake of his head, the boys were always so chaotic wherever they were. They could talk about serious work one second then change to nonsensical talk.

After you closed your shop, you went home to shower and change. You were not sure what to wear since you weren't exactly active in the clubbing scene.

"It's just drinks." You reminded yourself, digging through your closet to find something appropriate to wear.

"Ah ha!" You took out a dark red body con dress with a small slit on the thigh.

"(y/n)!" Your friends waved to you as you arrived outside the club. Besides Jihoon, there was Nana, who owned a petcare center, Eve, who owned a bakery, and Hyunwoo, who owned a gym.

"Your dress is so cute." Eve complimented.

"I had to dig it out of the depths of my cupboard. I don't go to these places often." You chuckled.

"Because you always bail on us." Hyunwoo pointed out, making you glare at him while the others burst out laughing. You assumed Jihoon made a reservation of some sort because you didn't need to queue.

"Thank god we didn't need to queue. Or else I would have gone home." Nana groaned as she walked beside you. The club was crowded, it seemed like a popular place to be. And judging by the long queue outside, you figured it was always packed.

"This is our table." Jihoon gestured and you all sat down. You didn't realise that Hyunwoo had disappeared.

"First round!" Hyunwoo announced, placing the tray of shots on the table.

"We just sat down and you wanna do shots already?! You're crazy." Nana yelled over the loud music. Jihoon shook his head while Hyunwoo grinned.

"Come on~ You guys can order different stuff after this. It's a welcome drink." He gave out the shot glasses.

"Ah... You're spilling." You clicked your tongue, taking a napkin to wipe the table.

"Cheers!" All 5 of you clinked shot glasses and downed the shot, wincing at how strong the alcohol was. You were not adverse to alcohol but even this was too strong for you to handle.

"Rum and coke?" Eve turned to me after taking Nana's order. You nodded, coughing from the burn in your throat.

"I'll go help her carry everything. And I'm getting a beer." Jihoon went to the bar to find Eve. They came back with the drinks and you received your rum and coke. It was a lot better in taste than whatever Hyunwoo had offered all of you earlier. All of you owned shops along the same row so there was always things to talk about.

"I've recently added a lot of new classes at the gym, you guys should come check it out. Free trial classes." Hyunwoo said, leaning against the back of the couch.

"I think working at the bakery is enough of a workout for me. Plus I have been busy training the two new bakers." Eve groaned.

"This is why I work with animals." Nana grinned.

"But you still have to deal with owners..." Jihoon pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

"Walk ins are still slow but thankfully, I've been getting more online orders. Maybe I should consider getting an assistant soon to help me with arrangements for events." You thought out loud.

"Yeah, you should! You're always staying so late to finish up your orders." Hyunwoo revealed. All your friends turned to you.

"Quiet, you..." You scolded Hyunwoo for exposing you. Jihoon reached over to flick your forehead.

At some point in the night, your friends momentarily scattered around the club. The dance floor looked too daunting and sweaty for you to join so you stayed away. Looking at the bar, you saw people chatting like they're long time friends.

'Going to the bathroom! Be right back. - (y/n)'

You sent a text to your friends and left the table, making sure to put the 'reserved' sign right at the front so no one would take your table, then headed to the restroom.

"Is this the line for the bathroom?" You tapped a girl's shoulder. She turned around and nodded her head with a hum.

"Thanks." You shot her a grateful smile. The queue was moving but it was long so you were stuck there for a while with your full bladder.

"Oh! (y/n) sshi?" Someone called, making you look up from your phone, not expecting a taller person before you. You squinted your eyes a little, trying to remember his name.

"Y-Yunho sshi?" You tried. He nodded his head with a smile.

"Mhmm! Fancy seeing you here." He chuckled. You could feel the attention fo the other girls on you.

"The queue is so long... Come with me." He nodded his head in another direction. You tilted your head in confusion but you wanted to escape all the attention that was on you now. The girls were definitely eavesdropping, seeing someone as handsome as Yunho, talk to someone like you.

"Yunho sshi, where are we going?" You asked, following him. You watched as two men stepped aside, revealing a staircase up to a private area.

"Here. Use the private bathroom down the hall. It's cleaner too." He pointed to the door.

"That's very kind of you but are you sure we can do this? It seems private or like a VIP area..." You looked around with uncertainty.

"You're funny, (y/n) sshi. Don't worry about it, we're not trespassing. Just go then you can return to your friends." Yunho smiled, gently pushing you in the direction of the bathroom.

"Bye~" He waved and headed to another door along the hallway.

"Thank you." You bowed to him and went to the bathroom. He was right, it was a private bathroom and it was very clean.

When you were done with your business, you washed your hands and exited the bathroom. You headed down the stairs, past the two guards that were blocking the way and went back to the booth to find your friends.

"You said you were in the bathroom! We went and you were not there!" Nana held your arm worriedly.

"Ah... Sorry, I bumped into someone I knew and got sidetracked." You rubbed the back of your neck. Hyunwoo and Eve were still mingling while Jihoon returned from the bar with another beer.

"Want some?" He offered.

"No, thank you. Beer makes me sleepy and I can't be falling asleep here." You chuckled.

"You know we wouldn't let anything happen to you, right? If you fall asleep, Hyunwoo and I will just take you back to your house." Jihoon said with a serious tone.

"I know. Thank you." You giggled. You stood up and exited the booth, wanting to go get another drink.

"Want me to come with you?" Jihoon offered.

"No need. It's just there. I'll be right back." You shook your head and went to the bar to order another drink. Of course, you got another rum and coke with lime. With more space at the bar now, you lingered there for a bit longer until you realised your friends might be looking for you.

"Hey." A hand touched your shoulder and you assumed it was Jihoon coming to find you.

"I just wanted to have a drink at the bar. I was going to return to the table." You laughed as you turned around.

~

Series masterlist

[brighteststarz]

I was thinking of writing a muggle AU fic where James gets paired with Sirius’s estranged younger brother for a history project in class, not just any project though it’s the end of the year final and it’s worth half their grade so if they don’t make it work they both fail. James doesn’t like him at first just going off of what Sirius has told James about their family but one day regulus comes to school and he’s clearly hiding a black eye and a couple more bruises under small sunglasses. Eventually regulus has to take the sunglasses off due to school policy and he uses the excuse he fell down the stairs. James can’t get it out of his head because that’s the same excuse Sirius used before he was able to tell James,Peter,and Remus about the abuse he was going through at home.

So James being James makes it his mission to help regulus get out just like he helped his best friend.

He goes from being hostile about working with regulus to being empathetic and caring and the sudden overnight change overwhelms regulus but he tries to ignore it because he just wanted to get this history project done so he can get a good grade for the final so his parents won’t be upset and then he will never have to see them again.

I haven’t figured out how I want the story to end yet but it would be endgame Jegulus, side pandalily, acesexual Peter/demisexual Sybill, wolfstar(slowest burn possible with mutual pining since they won’t be the main focus), Marlene/dorcus/mary as well

I want feedback first though if anyone thinks this would be a good fic idea or tell me if it’s been done before so I don’t waste my time lol??

I would be using the American highschool system because I have no clue about the British schooling system 😅

[chobblesomewrites]

Grumbo Professional Esports AU (abandoned work)

A collection of drabbles/scenes rearranged in chronological order featuring Team Coach Mumbo x Pro Player Grian. Warning; makes use of League of Legends/MOBA Mechanics. Unrealistic depiction of the esports scene.

No, this will not be fully written or edited. Prepare for weird pacing and incoherence. I'M JUST POSTING THIS SO I CAN STOP BEING ASKED ABOUT IT </3

—————

[ READ BELOW ]

Mumbo wasn't one for competitive games, but he had made exceptions from time to time. Those times mostly due to his online best friend wanting to drag him to experience almost anything and everything with him.

He wouldn't have even dreamed of touching MOBA games if it weren't for Grian begging him to, excusing that no one else but Mumbo was actually willing to deal with his competitive nature. He had first refused, firmly wanting to stick to his farming simulator games, but Grian knew too well how to act like a brat to get what he wanted.

So he found himself on [                ]’s tutorial screen, anxiously going through it while Grian remained in the Discord call with him, giggling at every noise he made every time he jumped from the sight of an enemy NPC.

“You lied when you said this game had a farming mechanic,” Mumbo accused his friend with a whine as he spam clicked on a highlighted enemy minion, clicking his tongue when he missed the gold.

Grian cackled, “Well, killing minions for gold is called farming. So technically I wasn't lying?”

Mumbo let out an audible huff of betrayal, which made Grian laugh even more as he tried killing his character to the minions out of spite.

—

Mumbo had thought he wouldn't be playing the game as often, for the main reason he had the game at all was because Grian occasionally didn't have anyone to play with, as he said. But he had plenty of friends so Mumbo didn't feel the need to open the game as he would probably be the last person on Grian's friendlist to be asked.

But dear lord was he wrong.

After getting bullied for his lack of game knowledge for one night, Grian kept inviting him to duo queue every single day. Mumbo would've been led to believe that Grian actually didn't have friends except for him if it weren't for their friends occasionally coming by to 5 man queue with them. But even then, that led Mumbo questioning even more of Grian's motives to specifically invite him of all people, adding to the fact that Grian apparently hated playing ADC but specifically only played it when in duo queue with Mumbo.

It was confusing. So, so confusing. Mumbo was so pants at the game yet Grian just kept inviting him nonetheless!

So, Mumbo thought; if Grian wanted to play with him that badly, he'd have to adjust his mentality to make sure that his best friend was actually having fun. He wasn't just here to keep Grian company anymore, he was here to now help Grian actually enjoy his games.

On weekday nights Grian would be too busy to get online, Mumbo used his free time to get on custom and try out other heroes outside of just support. He specifically tried mid laners in hopes to give Grian more opportunities to play roles outside of ADC, trying to prove that Mumbo was more than capable of handling himself!

He learned the map, how to invade, how to dodge, how to properly farm– everything. He needed to learn everything.

If it was for Grian, he'll take on everything.

–

[ DEFEAT ]

“....”

The call was silent, save for Grian who did horribly to muffle his laughter. Mumbo groaned in embarrassment into his hands, “Midlaning is hard,” he admitted in a mumble, which caused Grian to outright laugh into his mic.

“You didn't have to force yourself to try.”

“But you like playing jungle.” Mumbo pouted.

“Not all the time! Who on earth even says they like playing jungle?”

Mumbo sighed as he clicked off the after-game stats, returning back to their party lobby to see Grian already waiting to start the queue. The man already set himself back to the ADC role and it made Mumbo slump even more in guilt over his desk.

By some magical force, Grian probably felt his bad mood and he reassured with a smile, “I still think it's more fun if we're laning together.”

“You get to spoil me and you'd only have eyes for me!” Grian teased.

Mumbo felt himself flush red at that. Not knowing how to quip back, he simply said, “Shut up.”

–

5 man queues are always fun. It means Mumbo could just turn off his brain and listen to his friends talk and trash talk without having to say much because there's enough of them to hold the conversation together.

Mumbo was about to fully zone out while watching Grian’s character farm freely in their lane when he heard him speak up about something in their team's idle conversation on call.

“You know, I actually plan to be a professional gamer.”

From whatever conversation the call was going through, everyone in their friend group broke into laughter at Grian's admittance. Mumbo could hear Grian's pout as he tried to defend his dream, “I'm serious here!”

Their friends laughed even more, “How plausible would that even be as a job? We're just teenagers, dude. Who would wanna sign kids like us?”

Their words were obviously just trying to tease Grian, but Grian didn't take it lightly. The ADC went quiet as the friends in call continued on about how ridiculous of a scene it would be if anyone of them were to actually turn out to be 

Out of nowhere, Mumbo suddenly spoke up, “I think it's not impossible.”

The conversation paused and Mumbo suddenly felt conscious of the attention on his words. Nonetheless, he continued on, “I believe in you, if you are still going to try.”

“I'll try it with you.”

The call bursted into laughter again, even Grian couldn't help but giggle, which made Mumbo feel hot in the face from embarrassment. He spent the rest of the game making so many mistakes because the entire call kept teasing him for making such bold declarations.

He was able to live through 2 games of that until the other 3 friends in their team decided to log off, leaving him with Grian. Mumbo had thought that he would log off too, but he simply clicked the queue button without saying anything, leaving 

2 minutes into the queue, Grian finally spoke up, “I'm holding you up to that promise, you know.”

“You better go professional with me.”

Mumbo wonders if he's gonna regret promising that, given how ominous Grian makes it sound as if he's sold his soul to the devil. But if the devil were Grian, he finds that he doesn't really mind missing a part of himself.

–

Ever since that promise, Grian had been relentless with playing with Mumbo. Not that he wasn't always relentless before, but Grian was now determined to actually help Mumbo catch up to his level. They've even started custom 1v1s in hopes to improve.

Other people, if they were in Mumbo's position, would've been annoyed. Given how Grian tends to get frustrated eventually, Mumbo just takes it as a sign to be better. He couldn't slack.

He knew that Grian wasn't specifically frustrated at his skills, he was frustrated and anxious of the possibility that Mumbo wouldn't be able to sign with him if he didn't improve. They needed to do it together, Grian was stubborn to make sure of that fact.

So Mumbo didn't fault him for he loved him.

–

“Are you signed to a team?”

An account that was obviously a smurf had privately messaged him one time after a solo queue game Mumbo played while waiting for Grian. He ignored it, assuming that it was a scammer pretending to be a professional. He even went to quickly unfriend the account with this thought in mind and sat in the party lobby for a few minutes before a friend request came in.

“Xvoid,” Mumbo murmured out. He frowned and leaned back on his chair in thought, wondering if he's seen that username before. Probably in his other games, but Mumbo doesn't really actively pay attention to the randoms he and Grian match up with.

It was when he was about to decline the friend request that Grian joined the lobby with a very loud, “Mumbo Dumbo Bumbo Jumbo!”

“Grian,” Mumbo returned the sentiment, sounding more exasperated than excited like Grian. His friend must've realized something from that tone difference as he immediately questioned, “What's up?”

“Someone messaged me about signing to a team and now I'm trying to remember who this XVoid person is.”

Grian made a noise of surprise, “XVoid? Xisuma?”

“Who?”

“The Captain of [            ]! I thought we watched enough live streams together to know this?”

“... Grian, I only know Etho in that team!”

Grian made a noise of offense and went off on a tangent about each and every member of the team that was not Etho, scolding Mumbo for being a ‘solo fan’. Mumbo ignored him, hovering his mouse over Xisuma's friend request.

If it is the captain of that team, Mumbo can only assume that this was probably just a fan account. It didn't hurt to accept it. He's had a lot of friends in his friend list that he decidedly ignored a lot anyway. He just accepts them for the sake of filling that friend list.

With that over with, Mumbo started the queue, still ignoring Grian who was scolding his ear off.

–

Mumbo should've known there was going to be more to the friend request than he realized. What he assumed was a fan account was actually just the professional player's sub account.

Xisuma's team had taken notice of Mumbo, and even personally invited him to be their main team's support rather than simply being a substitute. Mumbo was about to disagree at first, discussing with Grian that he still wanted to play professionally with him, but Grian didn't stall him. He simply said;

"Go," and Mumbo had thought Grian hated him for being noticed by a team until he added, "I'll catch up."

And they left it at that. Mumbo signed with Xisuma's team as their support player but didn't even get to react properly that his online best friend didn't message him at all anymore as he was forced to move to a team provided account, leaving his personal one to the dust.

–

Mumbo's esports career didn't last longer than four years, but it was a good start for a while. He didn't have any experience whatsoever but his team was kind enough to help him throughout. He also found that a lot of people seem to like his awkward attitude so he didn't feel the need to upkeep a certain persona.

But with the constant change of meta to aggressive supports, his steady gameplay had no use in any team comps. It didn't help that, at every tournament, he got sadder and sadder the more he realized he couldn't see a certain username anywhere in both domestic and international teams even after a while. 

Grian wasn't there. The reason he was here at all, wasn't there. 

He had been moved to a substitute player midway through his career, replaced with someone more younger and aggressive in playstyle, his other teammates had also either retired or moved to better teams. The team’s management was still fond of him and he was only really kept for the fans' sentiments, but Xisuma didn't want him to live the rest of his life as a decoration, noticing the way Mumbo didn't enjoy his current status. The team they were in contract with wasn't getting any better either. They weren't going anywhere like this. Their skills could be put to more use somewhere. 

They couldn't accept the current state of things when they hadn't even won a single international championship to their name. Xisuma owed Mumbo at least a trophy for signing him up for the big leagues at such a young age that he could've used the time to explore more of his life.

He had offered Mumbo two things; Xisuma would pay so he could go back to college, or he could sign to Xisuma's budding esports company for a new chance.

As a coach, that is.

Mumbo had almost been tempted to say he would rather go back to studying, but Xisuma added more to his offer that he couldn't refuse; "You can choose the team. You'll be their main coach, after all."

Mumbo remembered that someone still promised to catch up, and he'd be willing to be a coach if it meant dragging him up here.

He promised. They promised they'd go together.

For the first time in a few years, Mumbo logged back in to his old account and clicked on a familiar user on his friend list.

"Grian,"

"You there?"

–

Mumbo wasn't confident for a while that Grian would reply back. It had been a good long while, after all. Would Grian even remember him? Mumbo's sure he himself hasn't forgotten the other, but he doesn't know if the sentiments are the same. 

Mumbo didn't really have the time to be too anxious about it either, busy helping Xisuma with properly setting up the company while also looking for managers and analysts to help him with forming the team.

The next time he finally checked his account again, he was disappointed when there was no message back. But one thing that gave him hope was when Grian’s user was lit up. He was online. And Mumbo could see damn well that his best friend, if he could still call him that, was actually just struggling to come up with a reply, especially when the indication of the other person typing kept popping up and disappearing over and over.

At least, with that, Mumbo knows that he wasn't fully ignored.

After a bit of waiting, he decided to give mercy to whatever message Grian is taking this long to send.

"Queue?"

And then the indication of Grian typing stopped. Then replying,

"You literally returned from war after how many and your first message is to ask to queue?? Not even gonna say hi to the kids?"

Mumbo burst out laughing. Somehow, it feels as if he never left for the professional scene and is back to his teenage self.

"How are you?"

"Got wife and kids."

Mumbo frowned at that, "Seriously?"

"No, you idiot. I'm this young and you think I'd have a kid already?"

"..." Mumbo rolled his eyes

"So what have you been doing this entire time?” I waited for you to catch up. Did you lie to me?

“Well one of us had to go to college, Mumbo.”

“Low Blow.”

“My bad.” Grian then typed, “Queue?”

“So now you’re trying to distract me by asking to play?”

“It's also been a while. I'm itchin’.”

Mumbo checked the time. He's fairly free for the rest of the day. And it's been a while since he's had genuine fun in the game, “Well, we ‘oughta scratch it!”

“Attaboy!”

–

They queue together for a while. Mumbo's old account had considerably ranked down so they were in lower elos. It wasn't that hard to win easily.

Grian was still good at the game, probably even better. He could catch up with Mumbo’s thinking, and Mumbo’s got the professional experience. One thing that bothered him was that Grian didn’t initiate a call like they always did years ago. Comms and all. Mumbo was left with Grian’s spam pinging and visual cues. Mumbo was too shy to ask about it, so he forced himself to be happy enough with Grian playing around with the emotes when they were idle in lane.

But surprisingly, when Mumbo thought they were about to log out, Grian told him to get in-game party call;

“Mumbo.” Oh, Mumbo has not heard that voice in a long time. Grian sounds less like a squeaker now. The long duration of having not spoken to each other was now extremely evident.

Mumbo forgot to greet back, and he didn’t get a chance to, as Grian spoke up again, “Why exactly did you message me again? Surely it's not to play, not when we could've done this for the past years.”

Mumbo didn’t know what to say for a moment. Would it be too rude to ask Grian about his previous interest in esports? Would that seem like he’s trying to flaunt at him or mock him?

His mouth twitched in hesitation, “Are you… still interested in going professional?”

“...” Grian didn’t reply, and Mumbo somehow felt even more desperate.

“You said you’d catch up.”

“I…” Grian sighed into the mic, seeming a little agitated, “Opportunities don't come as easily for me as it did for you, Mumbo.”

Mumbo furrowed his eyebrows, staring at Grian's little cat icon in disbelief, “...And so you gave up, just like that?”

“It wasn't just like that!” Grian defended. He sounded a little pissed off that Mumbo couldn't help but go quiet. At the silence, Pesky muttered an apology and calmed his tone, “Look, I- I really tried, alright? It was pressuring.”

Mumbo opened his mouth to ask what exactly pressured him but Grian beat him to it as he rambled on, “I lost my everyday duo to some team I couldn't even enter myself. Mum kept urging me to give up and go to college, but–” the voice on the other end cracked slightly but he took a long enough pause to steady himself, “I didn't want to- You, you were waiting, up on those big stages, looking around those stadiums like some lost little dog abandoned by their owner–”

“I was not some lost little dog!” Mumbo squeaked out in embarrassment, wondering if he really looked like that in the game livestreams, “How would you even know I was looking for you?!”

Grian’s smug smile could be heard in his tone, “I didn't say you were looking for me.”

Mumbo went quiet and murmured whinily, “You implied….”

The call was filled with Grian's giggling and Mumbo let himself enjoy the embarrassment for a brief moment before moving the topic along, “Anyway, I did say I was going to disagree to join them, but you urged me to accept it. I said I could've waited until we could sign together–”

“But you like the game, don't you, Mumbo?”

Caught quite off-guard, Mumbo gave his question a thought. He did like the game. Understanding the mechanics and strategy of it is fun. Winning a game was actually exciting since the winning conditions needed good skill and awareness to achieve, but… 

He only ever truly loved playing it because Grian was there. His best friend was a part of everything he loved about the game.

Mumbo was quiet and he couldn't find it in himself to actually admit his true opinions. Grian assumed that he was just embarrassed to admit that he liked the game and decided to move on, “So it was unfair to you. I couldn't drag you down. I know we promised to do it together, but that doesn't have to cost your possible futures.”

Mumbo chewed on his lip and once again quietly asked, “But are you still interested in playing?”

“Mumbo, I never stopped playing despite,” Grian said. An indirect message admitting that; he wants to play. He's always wanted to play. He never once gave up on the dream to. He's just a little late. “I wouldn't have queued with you today if I wasn't.”

Mumbo was hopeful at that admittance and he was quick to say, “Then play for me.”

“What?”

It was Grian's turn to be caught off-guard this time, sputtering in confusion and in disbelief. Mumbo could hear him sit straight on his chair, judging by the squeaking picked up by his mic, “No, that's- You shouldn't be practicing nepotism, Mumbo-”

Mumbo made a noise caught between a whine and a groan, “It's not nepotism if it's the coach's job to assemble a team of good players,” he defended. Grian was in even more disbelief this time as he caught on as to what Mumbo was getting at.

“Coach? What happened to your original team–? They still had you as a substitute…”

“Capt– X paid for the separation fee.”

Grian’s voice raised a little, “Then who and what the hell are you coaching for?”

Mumbo took a deep breath, needing to steady himself to be able to explain to Grian the situation without making it worse, “Look, I know you said you specifically wanted to play for a well-known team and, currently, X's company is just fairly knew–”

“Oh my god…” Grian muttered, his voice was muffled like he was burying his face in his hands. Mumbo ignored him as he continued to explain.

“He invited me to be the main coach, to set up the team to how I see fit since he had trust in the way I was at least aware of what was right, who was capable– Well, not to be blunt, but I have the skills to be able to strategize for an entire time and–”

Grian cut his ramble off, “You… you didn't do all this just for me, did you?”

Yes, I did. 

But, “No,” was what Mumbo said instead. “I still like the game, but I'm still not overly aggressive and competitive enough to be successful as a player, as you know.”

Silence that befell the call after that and it worried Mumbo as he didn't know if Grian could trust that reason. He was just about to continue his little persuasion when he was cut off again.

“I'm joining.”

“Before you– Wait, you are?!”

“Well, someone's gotta make sure you're not making wrong decisions! Who do you think taught you the game?! And you're planning to be the coach!?”

Mumbo couldn't even be sheepish at the underlying tone of being scolded. He was happy enough to hear Grian agree to joining even when doubt was evident in the other’s tone.

He’ll just have to show he’s capable of being Grian’s support, like always.

–

“Grian!” Mumbo had called out excitedly, approaching the man who held such a name. Maybe he was jogging more than politely approaching. Who was to blame him for being excited by the idea of finally meeting his long time online best friend face to face?

Grian’s shoulders jumped in surprise and he couldn't help but turn to look, looking even more stunned as he wasn't given time to react to the sudden hug Mumbo forced him into. His arms couldn’t find where to place itself, eventually relaxing on Mumbo’s back as he hugged back with equal eagerness.

The shorter man couldn’t help but laugh, “You’re surprisingly taller in real life, coach!”

Mumbo froze and pulled away to look at him weirdly, “Already calling me coach?”

“What? Were you actually not planning to sign me?”

Coach Mumbo winced and shook his head panickedly, “Goodness, of course we’re still planning to sign you, it’s just–” he hunched over and pouted a bit, “Isn’t coach a little too formal for us?”

Grian nudged Mumbo playfully, “Get used to it. You wanted this job. Didn’t you, coach?”

Mumbo pouted even more, slightly red in the face, “You don’t find me calling you jungler, do you?”

“I’m not signed yet so you can’t officially call me that yet,” the dirty blonde man then grinned wide, “For now, you can refer to me as darling.”

“Oh, stop it.”

–

Officially signing Grian up as the company’s first player was like a fever dream, even Grian himself would agree, and he’s had plenty of disbelieving things happening to himself. Even now when he was fully acquainted and settled into the residence provided by the team, he couldn’t believe that he was actually… what he dreamed of.

Grian glanced to his side, watching his coach scroll through some gameplay videos for possible teammates. Somehow, it felt right that the online best friend who nerds out about strategies that he can’t apply himself, was the tall man beside him.

Though honestly, Grian still expected Mumbo to be some hunched over nerd like he was. Who knew the man had not only looks and height, he had better posture than Grian.

The dirty blonde slumped in his chair and zoned out as Mumbo started introducing possible teammates, offering him options to form whatever team he wanted.

Grian didn’t listen much, still a little out of it. It is fairly weird that the coach of all people was asking the player who he wanted as teammates when it was supposed to be mainly the coach’s and the management’s job.

“Can I really pick the rest of my teammates?” He cut off Mumbo’s muttering in a familiar manner. Mumbo, as always, didn’t take offense and answered him.

“Of course.”

“And you’d support me?”

They held each other's stare longer than they should've. Mumbo broke into a smile.

“As I always have.”

–

“You’re stressing out Pearl again.”

Grian was half laying on his chair and lazily scrolling through the Grumbo tag on social media when Mumbo had come up to him with an unamused frown. Grian had half the respect for his coach to fix his seating arrangement and sat up properly to flash an innocent smile at Mumbo.

“I don’t seem to follow.”

Mumbo tugged at his hair in distress, familiar with Grian’s pretend dumb strategy. As a coach, you’d think that understanding strategies would be kept to the game, not applied even to his troublesome players.

“Sorry, let me rephrase then. You’re giving both Pearl and the PR team an extremely hard time to defend your honor.”

Grian sighs wistfully, “But you are my honor.”

Mumbo groaned and flushed red at that, “You’ve made that extremely clear with your interview!”

The dirty blonde shrugged and didn’t seem at all unapologetic. Seeing that he was once again going nowhere with attempting to horribly scold Grian, he leaned down and apologetically pecked the man on the forehead. Grian visibly perked up at that and blinked at Mumbo like he was expecting more.

Mumbo didn’t give him more, simply rolled his eyes and turned to leave, “Redo the interview tomorrow and you can negotiate for more.”

“MUUUUUUUUUUMBOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” Grian’s complaints fell to no one’s ears as Mumbo left the training room.

[sherlockggrian]

gonna talk about lore for a second cause it's eating away at me here

this is all entirely personal and 80% made up with zero basis other than the ongoing au for hermitcraft/life in my head, btw. Grian has steadily been getting more confident and dangerous with his powers since the end of season 8. He was terribly afraid of them and refused to use them for the first few years after Evo, and it took a long time during season 9 for him to be more comfortable. Each life series he gets more and more powerful and has more influence over the game. He's still not on the side of the watchers themselves.

In season 10, he uses it casually. He sits on the dock and mentally flies around the server to check on everyone. He can jump in and out of worlds and universes. He can stop time and talk to people in their dreams. Pearl has some powers as well, though she is not a true watcher in the sense and thus isn't quite the same as Grian. I was thinking about Taurtis, and how he made Grian and probably Pearl into what they are, and how he's the reason the watchers are so obsessed with Grian and his group specifically - becayse though Taurtis has lost most of what made him human, forgotten his human form and thinks mostly as a powerful entity, he still has this connection and ties to the other Evo players.

Which is why Grian and Pearl want to kill him. Permanently. They cause a rip in the world borders of Hermitcraft, and Taurtis comes to them, and during the fight something goes wrong and Taurtis ends up posessing Grian. He's now sort of two people, with Taurtis able to control him sometimes, but Grian powerful enough to fight it off. This small disruption in the world is enough for the watchers to trap the players into Wild Life.

Grian/Taurtis choose the wild cards. Grian knows what is going to happen, yet is somewhat powerless to stop it. He's in this sort of interal war while also trying to keep his friends alive (and failing miserably). Scar, who believes the canary curse being broken last time is what let him beat the watchers (he won instead of Gem, the one who the watchers wanted), is working dsperately to stop Jimmy from dying.

Pearl is the only one who knows about Grian. She's keeping quiet, waiting for the right moment to intervene again, like she did last season. They always keep their distance from each other because they know they're the ones who can sort of protect everyone as best they can from the watchers, and it works better when they are spread out. Their alliance is very thin at best. Despite their powers, they don't trust each other.

And Bigb, once again, is there to observe. He is not a watcher, or a listener, but something else, a 3rd being that the watchers keep a careful eye on. He could end everything, if he wanted, he wasn't even intended to be there, but he chooses to go along with it, for reasons unknown to anyone but him. He is not allied with the watchers, but he does nothing to prevent their attacks. Nobody knows where he came from, or where he goes when the games are over. He is merely there.

[f-15-h]

This only time I will tried to write a AU out because my friend and I wanna see horrible stuff happen to D16 in a shrine maiden story that’s kinda fatal frame inspired

Warning for some blood and gore

Also I’m not really good at this

I’m going to base cybertron’s official religion on worship Primus and the 13 Primes

Orion come from a village far from Iacon that only worship primus and in their tales primus is quite malevolent and all transformers life it’s an exchange. Because of that village have a tradition of live sacrifice of every 50 cycles they will sacrifice a cogless shrine maiden by using the impalement ritual to Primus. D16 comes online without a cog and was taken away and raised to be the next shrine maiden. The cogless shrine maiden are free of earthly attachments and when they are out in the public during celebrations they masked their faces so people wouldn’t know what they look like.

Orion was the village troublemaker before his family moved to Iacon for better opportunities prior to this decade’s ritual, accidentally broken into the temple’s back yard in fall on top of the shrine maiden. Those two became friends somehow. And occasionally Orion will try to sneak D out of the shrine at night. Orion got beaten up few times for seeing D’s face, almost every time they get caught (which is only 2time ) D would cover for him “I got loss while wondering around in backyard and didn’t realize I’m in the forest.” Is a common excuse d used.

The priests and guardians would subject D16 to painful and humiliating punishments when she step out of the line, D16 followed a strict schedule everyday and the Priests and guardians are very strict and almost psychologically abusive to the cogless Shrine maiden. Even she is out at the courtyard she wear her mask and don’t talk to anyone.

Then their final meeting up before Orion moved D gives her bell bracelet to Orion as a reminder of her, Orion went to Iacon with his family . Few months later it’s the day of the ritual which D was deemed as corrupted by the earthly attachments because her longing to see her lover(very one sided just coming from D) Orion once more and was punished by the a 2rd ritual of gutting her body while she was still conscious. Her body parts were stored in different jars in boxes around the shrine, after 7 days her ghost returned and brutally killed the inhabitants of the temple in same way she was then cursed the mountain the village was located.

D in her ritual outfit

Over the years the village population dropped, younger generations either moved away or dead from strange causes, only the few older people around. The government tried to boost the economy by opening a tunnel which for some reason a horrible accident occurred during it’s construction the workers bodies was somehow either impaled or gutted empty and amputated unlike the usual tunnel collapsing. There was a vacation villa opened once and it was a sight of a mess shooting, the shooter in their confession said “the pale lady , Megatron, made me do it”. (Due to allegedly the pale bot looks like Megatronus Prime, in urban legends she was dub as Megatron).

Megatron aka the pale lady(D16’s ghost)

In Iacon city, Orion was on his last year of his master program, his best friends Bee and Elita 1 were planning a summer trip. Bee who comes from a sheltered religious family who just found freedom from his family during his university years is crazy about everything supernatural suggested to go to that mountain because he heard there was a temple that had live sacrifices which Orion try to brush it off as “Oh it’s just a fairy tale to scare sparklings”

The mountain now is more or less a common suicide forest and the road that leads to the village is the road has the most freak accidents. Bee wants do some ghost hunting and a road trip with the gang for the summer. Orion who has some distance memories from his childhood which his family don’t like to talk about agreed to go.

Before they depart, Orion receives a letter from his childhood village and it was from D-16, his childhood friend. Which he thought Dee is still alive when he got the letter, he just thought because her job as the shine maiden she don’t really have time to reconnect with him.

Notes

The sacrifice of the last 50 cycle before D was Starscream, a daughter from a high guard family. Her family seen one of their 4 daughters was a candidate as a great honor.Even as a somewhat willing sacrifice her ghost still haunts the shrine with the strong desire to see the night sky again.

D-16 was the only daughter and family of Terminus, a miner, Who committed suicide in the forest after d was taken from him. D’s spider lily head dress was given by him.

Bonus:

Ghost Starscream the grinning maiden

[b3ach-bunn7]

JAPANESE DENIM PT 2

The three days you spend in the castle before you wedding with Prince Satoru

Royal!AU, fluff, JJK

——————————————————————————

Your new temporary bedroom is so unlived in it makes you uncomfortable. You sleep on sheets that are too stiff and a blanket too big and woollen that heats you up impossibly every night. You’re to stay here for the three nights until your wedding, where you’ll then be sharing a room with your husband. You are not to see each other until then, some silly tradition you find yourself somewhat reluctant to follow. 

Your new lady in waiting, Nobara, tells you about the castle, the people, who runs the gossip mill. You feel overwhelmed as she takes you on a tour of the castle. You admire the large gardens, the extravagant rooms and corridors that look like experts from the fantasy books you spend your nights reading. The maids in the kitchen and the soldiers around the halls all bow to you, and you smile, skin prickling at all the attention.

Nobara, you realise quickly, is loud and talkative. You don’t think it’s necessarily normal for a lady in waiting to be so full of energy, but she’s young, and the casual way she talks to you is a welcome thing. She feels more like a friend as she chats to you about her two knight friends, the two boys you’d seen at the ball. She’s far enough in age to you that you feel a little sisterly to her.

You thank the setting of the sun, tired of greeting and meeting so many new people. You’re about to get in bed. You’re wearing a too short and too sheer nightgown, lacy pink material that fluffs up around your legs. It twirls as you move, and you like the feeling of the material on your skin. It cuts right at your mid thigh, and it feels like a lot to wear to bed. But Nobara had left it on your bed, and you felt too bad to say anything about it, considering her excitement at your new wardrobe. You pull back the covers of your bed, thick and warm, and are just about to step in.

And then somebody knocks on your door.

Once, and then twice, and then they just keep knocking until you get up, flinging the door open. You assume it’s Nobara, because who else would be so brave to knock on your door like that, and so late at night. 

Satoru. That’s who. 

“What- Satoru, what are you doing, we are not supposed to see each other until the wedding!” You splutter, pulling him into your room before anyone else sees him.

He doesn’t speak though. You look at him confused and wave a hand in his face.

“Hello?” 

But it’s like he’s somewhere else. And it’s then, when a particularly strong breeze comes in from your open window, that you remember what you’re wearing, and you finally notice the red that dusts Satoru’s cheeks and your eyes widen.

“Oh my- Look away!” You hiss, rushing to your bed to grab a sheet to cover yourself.

Satoru turns quickly. “I’m sorry, I assumed you would be decent when I knocked!”

“Knocked? You practically broke my door down. What is it you want?” You huff, now covered.

“Well, I wanted-“

“You can turn around now.”

He does. He pouts a little at your new outfit.

“Shame. I liked your little nightgown.” 

“You have about five seconds before I call someone to escort you out of here.”

“Alright, alright.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “I just want to talk.” Satoru says.

You frown slightly. “Talk about what?”

He drops his hands and gestures at your bed. “Can you sit? And calm down? I can feel how tense you are from here.”

You let your shoulders fall. You suppose nobody will walk into your room. And he’s the prince, after all. Not much can be done to punish him. 

So you relent, and listen. He sits himself on your bed as well, shamelessly crossing his long legs, completely ignoring how inappropriate even being in the same room as you, let alone bed, is. You don’t protest as much as you should, only bring your covers up to hide the expanse of your legs your short nightdress reveals. His eyes dart down at the movement and he smiles.

“Why are you here, Satoru?” You ask.

“You see, the benefit to you not knowing who I was yesterday is that you spilled your pretty little heart out to me.”

Your nose wrinkles. “I don’t think that’s entirely true.”

“But it is. You are scared because you know nothing about me, and you are scared I’m a hideous troll. That is what you said to me yesterday. And now, we can at least check one of those off the list.”

He leans forward just that bit closer, forearms resting on his knees. White eyelashes flutter as blinks innocently. “Am I hideous, Y/N?”

God, you wish he was. That might make keeping a safe distance from him easier. But when he looks at you like this, like he wants you in a way no man ever has, you have to look away.

“No. I suppose not.”

He smirks. “I’ll take it.” 

Satoru sits back a bit and you remember how to breathe.

“So. What else would you like to know about me?”

“You snuck into my room so that we can do trivia on Satoru Gojo?” 

“The best kind. Come on, ask me something and I’ll ask you the same back.”

You sigh, relenting, ignoring how cute he looks when he cheers quietly.

“Okay. If you could have any superpower what would you pick?”

Satoru barks a laugh. “Y/N, I meant questions to get to know me. Like, my favourite colour or something.”

“This is getting to know you! Respond, if you don’t mind.”

“That- Okay. Fine. I’d have… Telekinesis.” 

You wrinkle your nose and he furrows his brows at your reaction. “What?”

“Nothing.” You say.

“Well, it is clearly something. Is my answer not good enough for you?”

You giggle. “No, it is perfectly fine! Just surprised me. I thought you’d say something like. Super strength.”

He tilts his head. “And why’s that?” 

“Most men do. Something about power and their over inflated egos.”

His mouth gaped. “My ego is perfectly inflated, thank you very much.” You just grin, shrugging.

And the two of you sit like that, for entirely too long. The questions are all innocent to begin with. Your favourite colour, your favourite food. What you hate most about the balls you always attend. And then, little by little, you get closer. Not just physically, because his hand is now toying with the edge of your duvet, but you feel like you know him more. It’s not by a lot, but. It’s better than before.

“What are you most scared of? About our marriage?” Satoru’s voice is soft as he speaks. The light of your candle flickers across his face, and you wonder how long you can keep him here like this, the flame lighting his eyes up perfectly.

“Losing my freedom.” 

You don’t feel scared to say the words like you’re sure you’d feel around any other man. It’s no secret that as a woman, your life stops being about you once you’re wed, and more about how you can serve your husband, your future kids. 

“What do you mean?”

You smile bitterly. You didn’t expect him to know, but it still stings a little that he doesn’t.

“I knew I’d never get to rule my kingdom. It will most likely be any sons I have, never me. But. I could still do what I could, help my father however he’d let me. Now, though. I am too far from home to be of any help. And I do not have a role in this land, and I respect that.”

You look down at your sheets. Your fingers trail along the embroidered designs idly.

“It is just difficult to come to terms with the fact that it is now officially over. That all I am is a wife, a mother.” 

Satoru sighs heavily. His fingers reach forward and intertwine with yours. 

“You are not just a wife to me, and you never will be. If you wish to have some authority, some duty, I will make that happen. If not now, then when I am king.”

You look up at him. And his face is deathly serious, in a way you’ve not really seen on him before. He looks at you earnestly and you feel your throat tighten.

“You would do that for me?” You don’t need to say how unspoken such an attitude is.

“I would do anything for you, Y/N.”

After that, the topics get much lighter. Satoru’s fingers stay clasping yours and you let them. The night grows later and the candle on your bedside table burns smaller and smaller. It’s when it gets this late, that you’re yawning and blinking at him lazily, Satoru’s tongue gets looser, and his questions curb something dangerous.

“So. Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

“Satoru!”

“What?”

You shake your head. “That’s hardly appropriate.”

“And why not? You’re to be my wife soon, no? Can’t we talk about such topics?” 

You can feel the heat on your face and you know he can see it. You roll your eyes. “Okay. Fine.” 

You adjust your position, lifting up the sleeve of your nightdress where it was slipping. “I have. Once.”

And the expression on his face twists .immediately into what you think is jealousy. 

“You’ve what?”

You laugh slightly. “I’ve kissed one boy.”

He frowns. “Who?”

“Aw. Are you jealous?” You grin.

“Well, yes. Of course I am! Your first kiss is supposed to be with me.” 

“It is not that big of a deal, Satoru. He was nobody important, and I do not even remember his name. And I was young, too. Thirteen, I believe.”

He grumbles, and you laugh at the pout on his face. “Cheer up, Prince. It is not like you have never kissed anyone before.”

The tips of his ears redden and it suddenly makes sense why he’s so bothered. You coo and he scoffs, waving you off. 

“Enough.”

“Aw, it’s okay, Satoru. Does this mean I’ll be your first kiss?”

“Yes. And some random boy will be yours.” He huffs, crossing his arms.

“Don’t pout. You’ll be my first in- In other things.” You say.

And how quickly his pout disappears and is replaced with a smirk, one that threatens something with the way he looks at you. He moves closer to you.

“You can say the word you know.” 

“I know.”

He smiles. “Say it then.”

You scoff. “No. I- No.”

His smirk darkens and he leans closer. “You scared?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “No.” 

“Are you excited?” 

“I- Satoru. I don’t-“

“I am.” 

The admission comes easily as if it means nothing. His words fluster you and you laugh nervously. He just watches you, hands slowly sliding out your lap to rest on your thigh. It’s over the duvet, but still, the promise behind them has you swallowing roughly.

“You looked beautiful last night. In that dress. You look beautiful right now.” 

His hand reaches up, moving the sleeve that has slipped down your shoulder again back up. His fingers smooth over the soft silk and you let it. He’s touched you before, grabbed your hands and toyed with them, but this feels so different. There’s a tension in the room you cannot quite place. You can’t judge the way Satoru’s eyes dip down to your lips because you know you’re doing the same thing.

“I know I have to be patient. And I will be.” His voice has dropped an octave lower, something husky and dangerous.

“But you are making it very difficult for me. Dressed like that. Looking how you do.” 

“It’s just a nightgown, Satoru.” Your words come out more desperate than you intend.

“Hm. What I saw when I walked in leaves little to the imagination.” 

You laugh slightly, nervous and excited. “I’m excited, too. Just scared as well.”

His eyes frown before his lips do. “Don’t be. I’ll make it good for you, I promise.”

Something coils in your stomach and you shift your legs. “I- I think it is time you leave. I am tired, and it is late.” 

He nods, understanding. His hand drops from your shoulder and he smiles.

“I will see you tomorrow.”

You snort a laugh. “You really should not. It is against the rules.”

“You will learn I am not one for following them.”

The next day Satoru does not come creeping into your room because you see him during the day. You and Nobara are walking in the courtyard, the sun setting over your skin, when you hear yells and then a loud thud. You turn a corner, past the large detailed stone walls and see Satoru, clutching his sides and laughing at two boys on the floor. They’re all stood on what you think is a makeshift battleground, and your memory tells you that this is the practise grounds Nobara had mentioned yesterday. While the two boys look familiar, you pay them no mind as you can’t stop staring at Satoru. He’s got a sword in his hand and he’s wearing a white button up with the sleeves rolled up his forearms, and his hair sticks to his forehead, sweat glistening on his skin. 

“Aw, look at the future bride ogling her husband.” Nobara coos.

You tut. “Enough of that. I was simply looking. At all three of them.”

“Whatever you say, princess. It’s about time you met them. Let us go.” 

She bounds forward and the boys perk up at the sight of her. They wrap her in a hug and she groans, trying to shove them off. She finally breaks free, dusting off her dress.

“You two reek, get off me.” She sniffs, turning her head.

Satoru notices you standing to the side, and he immediately runs up to greet you. He beams as you focus your attention to him.

“Afternoon, princess.”

“Afternoon, prince.”

He grins. He rubs his brow with the back of his hand. “So. What brings you here?”

You nod your head towards Nobara. “She was taking me on a walk and we ended up here.” You watch the three of them talking, a small smile gracing your lips. “They’re sweet.”

Satoru rolls his eyes. “What they are is lazy. Haven’t been training hard enough.” 

Satoru speaks loud enough that the two boys hear and start scowling, immediately stopping their animated conversation with Nobara to argue.

“No fair! You’re so hard on us, Sensei.” The pink haired boy pouts.

Your eyebrows raise at the name. “Sensei? You teach these boys?” You ask.

Satoru nods, and you can see the pride on his face he’s trying to hide. “I’m the best in this kingdom! Only makes sense I teach our future, no?”

The sound of your voice seems to alert the two boys of your presence. They quickly straighten out, bowing. It’s been two days of this and you still have no idea how to react.

“Your majesty! It’s lovely to meet you.” One of them, the one you’ve learnt is called Yuji, grins.

“Please, call me Y/N. And it’s lovely to meet you both!” You reply.

“Well, Y/N, are you going to marry-“

“Do not actually call her by her name, you fool. It’s disrespectful.” The other one, Megumi, scoffs, shoving Yujis shoulder.

“She just told me to!”

“No, Megumi is right, it is disrespectful. She’s  just weird like that.” Nobara chimes in.

Yuji gasps. “You can’t call a princess weird!”

“It is quite alright. I've done it before.”

Yuji shakes his head in shame. “I hope she hangs you for your attitude.”

Megumi snorts a laugh. “About time somebody did.”

Satoru rolls his eyes as they start bickering. He pulls you to the side, hand curling easily around your elbow. He gives you and the dress Nobara had picked and excitedly told you was worth more than she got paid in a month a once over.

“You look gorgeous this morning.” He says, hand still lingering on your arm.

You smile. “Thank you. As do you.”

“Really?”

You nod. “The dishevelled look is doing you wonders.”

He barks a laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I’m in dire need of a shower. Training them takes it out of me.”

You look back at the boys. “Can I see?”

Satoru pauses for a moment, hand still trying to fix his mussed hair. His sword is still in his other hand, and you watch with keen interest as his fingers tighten around the hilt. 

“You want to see me fight?” He questions.

You fluster a bit at the way he’s looking at you, the knowing tease in his eyes. “Yes. I want to see if my future husband is adept.”

“I’m much more than adept.”

“Then there should be no issue.”

He sighs, his grin back with more fevour. “I love your attitude, do you know that?”

“That is why you are marrying me, no?” 

He laughs. “Okay, enough. Now watch.”

Satoru walks towards the boys. You laugh at the disgruntled expression on their face when he ushers them to the centre of the field. Yuji passes Megumi his fallen sword and you gesture Nobara to come stand with you. She walks over, looking slightly lost.

“They told me they were done training for today.”

“Yes, I think this is my fault. I want to see him in action.”

Nobara looks at your knowingly. “Sure.”

“Hush now. Look.”

Satoru gives them a second before he goes at them. It’s like art, watching Satoru move. The two boys are good, you can tell with how easily they swing their swords, the practised way they dodge attacks. But Satoru, he is a marvel. You watch as the lines of muscles in his arm ripple as he brings his sword down, the amount of strength behind each hit rattling the metal. You know he’s just showing off for you, but you don’t care. He fights off the two of them easily, barely breaking a sweat as he slides and dodges their hits. He even has the nerve to send you a cheeky wink and you smile despite yourself.

The match ends quickly, the two knights swords on the floor once Satoru easily unarms them. You clap excitedly and he bows. The two boys grumble to themselves, dusting dirt off their tunics once more.

“You’re supposed to go easy on us.” Yujii huffs, retrieving their swords from the floor.

“How will you learn if I go easy on you?” Satoru puts his hands on his hips and catches his breath.

Megumi rolls his eyes. “You’re just trying to impress the princess.”

Satoru softens slightly at Megumi, and he practically coos at him. “Aww, don’t be sad, Megumi! You did a great job.” 

Megumi just rolls his eyes again. The two boys bid you goodbye, and you tell Nobara to go with them.

“Alright. I will come meet you in your room once you are finished speaking to the prince.” She curtsies quickly before rushing off to catch up with the others.

You turn to Satoru to find him already looking at you. The sword is back in the scabbard on his waist, and he crosses his arms. His biceps look even bigger under his shirt as he does so and you avert your gaze before he notices your staring.

“So. How was I?”

“You were amazing! I know your ego is quite big already, but. I suppose it’s justified. You were quite incredible, fighting like that.”

Satoru grins something proud and satisfied, ignoring your little dig at his ego. He steps forward slightly and he smells like sweat and the outdoors. 

“I am glad I could impress you so, princess.” He says.

“How long have you been fighting for?”

Satoru thinks for a moment. “Since I was very young. My father taught me, and I trained as hard as I could until I was the best around.” 

“That is quite admirable. It’s obvious with how easily you can move around.”

Satoru nods. “I like teaching the young ones. I-“ Satoru pauses slightly. His face turns to something a little more vulnerable, and he doesn’t make much eye contact with you when he continues.

“My father is a good man, but. His teachings were not the greatest. I hated fighting and training and the idea of it all. It is better now, of course. I just do not want the younger generation to go through what I did.”

You know you shouldn’t, but your hand reaches forward and grabs his. He looks back at you and you give him a smile.

“You are a good man, Satoru. And it is doing wonders for those kids, believe me. I can see from only speaking to them once.”

Satoru softens slightly. He sighs, like a little weight has been relieved from his shoulders.

“I am not sure what I did to deserve you.”

“Something good, I imagine.”

If Satoru’s last day before the wedding has been anything like yours, hectic and so busy, you’re sure he had no time to do so.

The day is spent drifting from room to room. You pick out a bouquet of flowers from too many options. You stand as straight as possible and suck in as much as you can so that they can stuff you in a corset and dress that you’re scared to even move it. It’s layers of soft, white fabric, shining gems sewn into the neckline and all down the front. It shimmers as it catches onto the light form the big open windows. You smooth your hand over the soft material. Nobara stands to the side, and while she keeps silent in the presence of the tailor and other maids, you can see the excitement on her face. 

When you catch sight of yourself in the mirror on the other end of the room you pause. You look older. Maybe it's the white, or maybe it's the fact you’ll be a Gojo in hours, but something feels different. You aren’t sure how you feel. You try not to think about it too much because you can't decipher what's excitement and what's fear.

Your tailor, Nanako, smiles at you. “Nervous?”

You nod slightly as her assistant, Mimiko, adjusts your bodice. “Yes. A little.”

“You have nothing to worry about. Of all the princes I’ve made suits for, Prince Satoru is the nicest.” Nanako says. She kneels down to fix the trail of your dress.

“Really?” Mimiko nods.

“Mhm. He’s very nice. And he is very attractive, too.”

“Mimiko! That is her husband.”

“I am just being reassuring!”

The best part of your day is definitely the time you spend in the kitchens. The smell hits you the second you walk in, and the different foods are all spread out across the tables for you to try. There's duck and chicken and lamb, desserts like tarts and cheesecakes all waiting for you to try.  You smile for the first time all day. The head chef, a man with pink hair oddly similar to Yuji, looks at you from across the table. The room is large, stoves and ovens lining the walls. You glance to your left and see the room you assume is full of food. The kitchen is surprisingly empty other than the man, and he bows when you and Nobara fully walk in.

“Princess. We’ve arranged a series of hors d'oeuvres, mains and desserts for you to try. The cake has already been chosen by the prince, and we’ve left a sample for you there.” He gestures to the slice of cake and you beam.

“Thank you. My name is Y/N. And yours?”

He raises a brow at your introduction. “Sukuna.”

“It is nice to meet you.” Sukuna smirks slightly at your cheery attitude. He gestures to the chair in front of you and Nobara pulls it out for you and you sit.

“And you.” He says.

He leans against the counter and crosses his arms. Nobara stands besides you.

“So. Where shall we start?”

“You can begin with the hors d'oeuvres.”

As you try the food, he explains each dish, where all the ingredients are sourced. Sukuna lights up slightly when he begins talking, and you can tell he cares about what he does. Nobara told you on the way over that he was the best chef in the kingdom, and the taste of the food tells you as much. 

“This is amazing! And you made all these recipes yourself?”

He nods, standing a bit taller. “I have help, of course, but these were all made by me and my sous chefs. The rest of the workers will be available on the wedding night to make sure everything gets out on time.”

“I love it all. You are very talented, Sukuna.”

He bows his head. “Thank you, Princess.”

You gesture Nobara to come try some of your food. “Come, help me decide between these two.”

You spend the next few minutes getting through the food. You chat with Sukuna, and he tells you that Yujii is his brother, his younger one at that. Sukuna used to be a knight too, but after a bad fight his leg was injured too badly for him to fight again. But, his loyalty to the royal family was not forgotten, which is why after discovering he could actually cook very well, he’d become their Chef.

“Do you miss fighting?” You ask.

He shrugs. “Of course. It’s exhilarating stuff, but. It cannot be helped. I enjoy cooking and I’m good at it. Not much to complain about.”

You nod. 

“That makes sense. I- Ow!” You wince as something sharp scratches your gums.

“Is everything okay, Princess?” Nobara asks, turning to you quickly.

“Yeah, I just- There’s.” 

You turn your head quickly, and try to pull out whatever is in your mouth as dignified as you can. When your hand comes up, the three of you all look at the piece of crab shell in your hand.

“What the hell is that?” Sukuna furrows his brow.

“Hey! Watch your language.” Nobara chides.

Sukuna doesn’t listen. He reaches forward and grabs it out of your hand. He looks pissed. Before you can even say anything he’s storming off into that room in the back. You and Nobara both peer inside.

“Where is he going?” You ask.

Nobara shrugs. “I’m not sure. He looks angry, though.”

“I know. I am a little-“

“What the fuck is this!” Sukuna suddenly yells.

You both jump at his voice. You both lean over and peer through the door to see him yelling at two men you assume are his sous chefs. They hold their heads down and Nobara giggles next to you.

“They look like their teacher’s telling them off.” She whispers.

You wave your hand at her. “Shh, I want to hear.”

He holds up the small piece of shell in their faces. “Look! The Princess could have choked on this, and then what? We’d all be hanged because you dumbasses didn’t check the crab properly.

“I thought-”

Sukuna holds up a hand and it’s enough to silence the one who tries to speak.

“There’s no excuse for it.” Sukuna shakes his head. “You, you. Fuck off! Get out my face.”

The two men walk out and you and Nobara quickly straighten up as Sukuna comes back into the room. He bows deeply. You elbow Nobara as she stifles a laugh.

“I am deeply sorry, Princess. Please excuse my sous chefs, they will be properly dealt with later.”

You do not want to know what that means. You laugh slightly, gesturing for him to stand. “Please, do not worry, it was only an accident.”

“An accident they shouldn’t have happened.” He sighs.

You smile. “It’s okay, I am sure it will be remedied for tomorrow night.”

Sukuna just looks at you. He studies you for a moment.

“I’ve catered quite a few meetings between the Prince and his potential wives. I am quite glad he picked you. Most of the others were insufferable.”

You snort a laugh before covering your mouth, face flushing in embarrassment. “Apologies. That was not very ladylike of me.”

Sukuna smirks slightly. “Your secret is safe with me.”’

The day ends quicker than you think. You find yourself sitting in your room, trying to fool yourself into thinking you’re not up waiting for Satoru. That and the fact that you think the nerves are going to eat you alive.

You perk up slightly at the quick knock at your door. You get up, this time wearing a robe to cover yourself, and usher Satoru in.

“Aw. No nightgown today?”

You smack the side of his shoulder and he grins. “I missed you.”

“It has only been a day, Satoru.”

“A day too long.”

You both sit on your bed. You look out your window, at the bright moon in the sky and the expanse of the garden you can see from where you’re sitting. You feel Satoru’s hand clasp yours and you look at him. His brows are pinched with worry, and it’s weird seeing his lips turned down in a small frown.

“Are you alright?”

You breathe in deeply. “Do I not seem alright?”

“You look tired. A little troubled.” Satoru inches a little closer.

“Hm. It has been a long day.”

He sighs. “Tell me about it. You’ve been preparing for the wedding too?”

You nod. “I feel bad complaining. I have people waiting on me hand and foot, but. It is a lot.”

“You are allowed to be tired, you know.”

Satoru is looking at you so tenderly. It’s weird, you know it is, how much you feel for him in such little time. You’ve known him for four days only. Spoke to him on four separate occasions and yet you can’t help but be excited that you’ll be spending the rest of your life with him.

Of all the suitors your parents had entertained, he was by far the most attractive, but also the kindest. He seemed like a good person from what you’d seen and you knew that he’d make a good King when the time came. He had good money, good people. Your lady in waiting, the chefs, his family. You were lucky. Luckier than a lot of girls like you.

And you still felt like you deserved none of it.

There was a princess out there made for this sort of life. Not you. Sometimes you think you would’ve been better as a peasant.

Satoru’s fingers stroke over your hand. “Tell me what is wrong.”

His voice is so careful and caring that you feel tears threaten behind your eyelids. You sigh shakily.

“I just. It’s a lot. It’s so much. Sometimes I feel like it should not be me. That there is someone more deserving of this.”

Satoru’s frown deepens. “Do not say that.”

“But it is how I feel. I- I am trying to ignore it, but I am so nervous.”

Satoru moves closer to you. He smells fresh, like he’s just showered, and you notice some curls in his hair are still damp. 

“You think I do not feel the same? That I’m not scared I won’t be a good husband?”

It’s your turn to be confused. “What? Why would you think that?”

“Why would I not? It’s my job to protect you. Keep you safe. Make sure you’re happy, make sure everything is perfect for you. And I know how adverse you are to this all. Which makes me even more scared.” 

Your heart pangs with guilt at the look on his face. He looks so worried. You grasp his hand properly.

“No. No, I am not. Not anymore. Now that it’s you.”

His lips part like he wants to say something. But he doesn’t. Just looks at you.

“You- You changed my mind. I do not know how, and I do not know why so quickly but. That is not why I am scared.”

You turn away. Your words feel too vulnerable to say right to his face. 

“I want to be good for you, Satoru. I want to be a good wife. You deserve it. And I am frightened I cannot give it to you.”

Fingers curve under you chin. They turn your head so that your facing him, and the worry is replaced with something so lovely you want to look away again.

“It’s okay. We are supposed to be scared. I’d be more worried if you were not.”

You laugh wetly, and he swipes under your eyes at the tears that fall. 

“Don’t cry, princess.” He whispers.

“You are too kind. I can’t help it.”

“Would you like me to be mean?” 

You hum thoughtfully. “Maybe save that for after the wedding.”

The tips of his ears redden and his grip on your face tightens slightly.

“God, the flilth that comes out of that mouth.” He scolds, but you know it holds no mirth.

His hand drops from your face into your lap. You wonder how shocked your mother would be if she saw you two sitting this close before marriage.

“How do you even manage to sneak in here every night?”

Satoru grins. “My valet is very kind. Very susceptible to persuasion.”

You giggle. “I could say the same for Nobara. She hasn’t said a word.”

Satoru rolls his eyes. “You and I both know that girl is running to Yujii and Megumi every night. Would explain their giggling during training.”

You brain trails back to the two of them before, when Satoru was training them. Even then you remember the slight fondness he held for Megumi.

“Megumi. He is your favourite, correct?” 

Satoru winces, rubbing a hand on his head. “Am I that obvious?”

“Only slightly. I have a good eye.”

He sighs, nodding. He moves himself until he’s sitting beside you, and not in front. His shoulder is warm as it hits yours and you both lean against your headrest.

“Yes. I’ve known him since he was a child. His father was killed in a battle, and so I’ve took to checking up on him and his sister all their lives. Once he was old enough he joined the forces.”

As if he couldn’t get any better.

“That’s so kind. He seems like a good boy.”

Satoru hums in agreement. “He is. They both are, really.” 

Satoru stretches. His sleep pants stretch over muscled thighs and you look away quickly. 

“I met your tailors. And your chef.”

“Oh, Sukuna? He is very good at what he does.”

“Mhm. One of his sous chefs made a mistake and he tore into them. It was very funny.”

Satoru snorts. “He’s passionate. It is what makes his cooking so much better.”

You sigh. The darkness from outside tells you it’s late, and the way your eyes droop shut are tell enough that your tried. Satoru is telling you a story about something, and you’re too tired to pay enough attention. You let your eyes shut and you lean on his shoulder.

“You falling asleep on me?” Satoru mumbles.

“Mhm. No. Keep talking. M’listening.”

He chuckles. “Alright. Good night, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Satoru.”

————————————————-—————————

I had a vision of Gordon Ramsey x Sukuna and that vision had to be realised

I acc have nooooo idea how to write a wedding part 😅 but thsi was so super fun to write! I love royal aus even tho I’m sure these ar won’t factually accurate

I hope u enjoyed!

[d-z20]

Heavy Hits, Soft Touches

Pairing: Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You meet your rival, Rio Vidal, in the MMA championship ring, both of you determined to prove you're the best. Years of tension and unspoken chemistry finally come to a head in a brutal fight that leaves you both bloodied and bruised. But when the crowd fades and you're left alone in the locker room, you discover that maybe you've been fighting something else all along

- OR -

You and Rio have it out in the octagon but are flirting the whole time (MMA AU)

Warnings: Blood, descriptions of violence/fighting, hurt (physical), angst, comfort, implied smut

Words: 2.9k

A/N: This fic is based on this request. No smut, but I am more than happy to create a fic that details just how you spent the night wrapped up in each other if literally even one person asks...

Have a gander over to AO3

The locker room is quiet now, the echoes of the cheering crowd fading into the background. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, seeing blood smeared across your cheek, the bruise blossoming under your eye. You press a towel to your split lip, but the sting doesn't bother you as much as it should. Not when your thoughts are still wrapped up in her. In Rio Vidal

Your rival. Your equal. The woman who's been your greatest challenge and your biggest distraction for years now. From the moment you stepped into the MMA circuit, she was there, always one step ahead, always pushing you harder than anyone else. You've faced each other in the octagon before, trading victories in matches that never failed to make headlines. The press loved to play up your rivalry, spinning stories about how much you hated each other. But the truth? You didn't hate her. You respected her. Maybe a little too much, because with that respect came an attraction you couldn't shake, an unspoken chemistry that lingered every time you met her gaze.

The problem was, Rio knew it too. She knew exactly what kind of effect she had on you, and she wasn't above using it to her advantage.

You had just faced her in a non-title match to drum up excitement for the championship in a few weeks. It might not have been the final tonight, but with the way you both fought, it could as well have been. You could still remember the way she'd looked at you right before the third and final round, her gaze burning into yours, a smirk pulling at her lips as if she knew she had you right where she wanted.

The crowd's cheers had faded into a dull roar in your ears; all you could hear was your own breathing, the pounding of your heart, and her voice cutting through it all.

"Don't look so tense, sweetheart," she drawled, her smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. "You're not scared of me, are you?"

You glared at her, wiping the sweat from your brow. "In your dreams, Vidal."

She chuckled, low and dark. "Oh, you're always in my dreams."

Before you could respond, she lunged forward, throwing a punch that you barely dodged. The crowd erupted as you countered with a hook to her ribs, but she didn't even flinch. Instead, she grinned, her eyes lighting up with something almost feal. She liked this—you could tell. She liked the challenge, liked the way you pushed back against her.

You exchanged blows, neither of you holding back. Her fists hit like a freight train, and she was relentless, forcing you back against the cage. She pinned you there, her forearm pressed into your throat just hard enough to make it difficult to breathe. Her face was inches from yours, her smirk maddeningly cocky.

"You're not tapping out on me, are you?" She taunted, her breath hot against your ear. "I thought you were tougher than this."

You gritted your teeth, shoving back against her with all your strength. "I'm not tapping out," you snapped, your voice a harsh rasp. "Not to you."

"Good," she purred, leaning in closer. "I'd be disappointed if you did."

You twisted out of her grip, slamming your elbow into her side. She grunted, stumbling back, but she was smiling. It was almost like she was enjoying the pain, like every hit was a game to her. You went at each other harder, trading punches and kicks that left you both bruised and bloodied. You managed to land a brutal uppercut that caused her head to snap back, and for a second, you thought you had her.

But then she was on you again, sweeping your legs out from under you. You had hit the mat hard, the air knocked out of your lungs, and before you could recover, she straddled you, pinning your wrists above your head.

"Gotcha," she breathed, her grin wide and predatory. She was bleeding from a cut above her eyebrow, her lip split, but she had never looked more alive. "Still think you can beat me, sweetheart?"

You struggled under her, but she had you locked down. You could feel the strength in her grip, the way her body pressed against yours, and it had sent a shiver down your spine. You hated how much you had liked that—how much you had liked her like that.

In the end, she won. Barely. A split decision that had the crowd on their feet, the commentators buzzing about how you'd almost had her. Almost. She'd helped you up in a rare moment of sportsmanship, her hand lingering in yours longer than it needed to. "Better luck next time," she'd said, her voice low, challenging you.

You'd stared at her, every muscle in your body screaming in protest, but you'd nodded. Because you knew. The championship title was coming.

-

Tonight was finally the night. The championship fight—the one that would decide it all. The culmination of everything you've worked for, everything you've fought for. Five gruelling rounds, each more brutal than the last. You'd both won this title before, but you'd never faced each other in the finals. It was the match everyone had been waiting for, the one that felt like it was written in the stars. And you were going to fight like it too, like there was nothing outside that cage but the two of you.

The announcer's voice booms through the arena, introducing you both as the crowd roars. You barely hear it; your focus is entirely on her. She looks as fierce as ever, her dark hair tied back, a cocky grin plastered on her face as she rolls her shoulders, shaking out her arms. She knows the cameras are on her, knows the crowd is eating it up, and she loves it.

"You ready for this sweetheart?" She taunts, her voice carrying over the noise. "Wouldn't want you to embarrass yourself in front of everyone."

You smirk, stepping forward into the centre of the octagon. "I'm not the one who should be worried."

The referee goes over the rules, but you're not listening. You're too busy staring her down, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline as you wait for the bell. It's the longest few seconds of your life, but then it sounds, and you're off.

The first round is brutal. You both go straight for it, no holding back. You know each other's styles too well; there's no feeling-out process here. She throws a quick jab, and you slip to the side, countering with a hook that catches her on the cheek. Her head snaps back, but she barely flinches, her grin widening like she's enjoying it.

"Nice hit," she breathes, ducking under your next punch and driving her knee into your ribs. It knocks the wind out of you, but you don't back down.

You grapple with her, twisting her into the cage. "Save your flirting for later," you grit out.

Her eyes flash, and she shoves you off with surprising strength, spinning you around and slamming you into the mat. She's on top of you in an instant, her hand gripping the back of your neck as she leans down, her breath hot against your ear.

"Why wait?" She purrs.

The bell rings, saving you from whatever comeback you were going to throw at her. The ref separates you, and you both stand, chests heaving, staring each other down with a wild intensity.

The second round starts off even more aggressive than the first, both of you refusing to back down. Your body is already aching, each movement a reminder of the last time you had fought, but you pushed through the pain. You can't afford to show weakness—not to her.

She lands a sharp jab, then a right hook that rattles your skull, forcing you to stumble back. Before you can react, she's on you, driving you into the cage with her full weight. The cold metal digs into your back as her forearm presses into your throat, pinning you just like before. Her face inches from yours, her smirk even cockier now, her eyes dark with something that isn't just competition.

"Déjà vu, sweetheart," she taunts, her voice a low purr. "You looked so pretty the first time I did this. I just couldn't resist doing it again."

Your breath catches, a mix of frustration and something you don't want to admit, burning through you. You shove back against her, trying to twist free, but she's got you trapped, her body flush against yours, holding you there effortlessly.

"Fuck you," you rasp, glaring up at her.

Her grin widens as she leans in closer, her lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Is that a promise?" She whispers.

For a second, you falter, caught off guard by the heat of her words and the way her breath skates over your skin. But then the bell rings, signalling the end of the round, and she pulls back, stepping away with a wink.

The third round is a blur of punches, kicks, and blood. You're both landing hits that would drop anyone else, but not you two. You're too stubborn, too caught up in this unspoken battle between you that goes beyond the championship.

In the fourth round, she gets you in a chokehold. It's tight, and you can feel the pressure building in your head, the edges of your vision starting to darken. The crowd is on their feet, roaring for a finish. You could tap. It would be the smart move. But you don't. You twist, clawing at her arms, and somehow manage to slip out, rolling away just as the bell rings.

You barely make it to your feet, and she's right there, hands on her hips, shaking her head with a grin. "You really don't know when to quit, do you?"

You spit blood onto the mat, grinning back. "Never."

The final round starts, and you both go all in. It's a flurry of strikes, both of you too exhausted for any fancy moves. She lands a solid punch to your jaw, and you stumble back, but as she moves in for the kill, you manage to sweep her legs out from under her. You drop on top of her, pinning her down, your forearm pressed to her collarbone.

For a second, you think you have her. But then she bucks her hips, flipping you onto your back, her body pressing against yours as she traps your arms beneath her knees. The referee moves in close, checking your position, and you realise you can't get out. Not this time.

The ref's voice is distant, calling the end of the fight. Rio just managing to secure victory once again. She pulls back just enough to let you breathe, but she doesn't get off you right away. Instead, she leans down, tilting her head, face inches from yours.

"Looks like I win again," her voice a mocking whisper. "You gonna cry about it?"

You laugh, breathless and bitter. "Fuck you, Rio."

Her grin widens as she leans in even further, her lips brushing your ear. "Maybe later, sweetheart."

She finally lets you up; the crowd's roar fills your ears as she raises her arms in victory. You stand there, chest heaving, staring at her as she soaks in the applause. She glances back at you, a flash of something softer in her eyes before she winks and turns away.

-

You don't see her again until you're both in the locker room, alone for the first time. You're sitting on the bench, wiping blood from your knuckles, when she saunters in. She looks as bad as you do—bruised, beaten, but somehow still infuriatingly cocky.

"Aww, do you need a hand?" She asks, her voice dripping with sarcasm, but there's a glint in her eyes that wasn't there before.

You roll your eyes, but you don't protest when she kneels in front of you, taking your hand in hers and dabbing a wet cloth against your busted knuckles. Her touch is surprisingly gentle, and you look down at her, catching the way her gaze softens as she cleans your wounds.

"You fought well," she admits quietly, not meeting your eyes.

"So did you," you reply, your voice just as soft.

Her hands linger on yours for a moment longer, her fingers tracing over your bruised knuckles like she's memorising the shape of them. It feels so different from the fight—so tender that it sends a shiver down your spine. You can feel the warmth of her hands seeping into your skin, and it's almost comforting. Almost enough to make you forget how brutal you were to each other earlier.

She shifts her focus, moving the cloth to the cut on your brow. You flinch when she presses against it, but she hushes you softly, like she's soothing a frightened animal. "I've got you."

Your breath catches at the endearment. It's the first time she called you that in this way, it feels different—like she's letting down her guard, if only for a second.

She looks up then, and for a moment, the mask slips. There's no smirk, no teasing grin—just Rio, looking at you for the first time. It's raw, and it makes your chest ache in a way the fight never did.

You swallow hard, taking the cloth from her hands. "Your turn," you say softly, gesturing for her to sit. She hesitates, like she's not used to letting someone else take care of her, but she sits down anyway, her expression guarded.

You crouch in front of her, your hands trembling slightly as you clean the cut on her brow. Her eyes flutter shut, and for once, she doesn't have a smart remark or a cocky grin. She's just quiet, letting you work in silence. you can see how exhausted she is now, how the adrenaline is starting to fade and the pain is setting in. You touch her bruised cheek gently, and she winces.

"Sorry," you murmur.

She opens her eyes, meeting your gaze. "Don't be," she says, her voice rough but sincere. "I've had worse."

You roll your eyes but can't help the small smile that tugs at your lips. "Of course you have."

She chuckles, the sound low and husky. "You're good at this," she comments, watching you dab at her split lip with a tenderness she doesn't seem to expect.

"I've had a lot of practice," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. But it's hard when she's looking at you like that—like she's trying to figure you out, like she's seeing something in you she hasn't before.

You brush her hair back, revealing a small cut near her temple. Your thumb lingers against her skin, and she leans into the touch, just for a second. It's such a small, vulnerable gesture that it almost breaks your heart.

"Rio," you whisper, her name falling from your lips like a confession. You lean in closer, pressing a kiss to her temple, and she closes her eyes, exhaling a shaky breath.

Her hand comes up to rest against your chest, not pushing you away, just holding you there, feeling the beat of your heart under her palm. "You don't have to do this," she mutters, but there's no conviction to her words.

You shake your head, cupping her face in your hands. "Yes, I do."

Her gaze drops to your lips, and you realise just how close you've become, your knees almost touching, her breath warm against your face. You're not sure who moves first, but then her lips are on yours—gentle at first, as if testing the waters, but it quickly turns desperate, hungry. It's like everything you've ever felt for her—all the frustration, the anger, the unspoken longing—boils over in an instant.

She pulls back, her forehead pressed against yours. "Come on," she mutters. "Let's get out of here; my place isn't far."

You nod. standing up on shaky legs. You grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder as she does the same. Without another word, the two of you leave the locker room together. The ride to her place is quiet, the air thick with anticipation. Every bump in the road sends a jolt of pain through your bruised body, but you barely notice. You're too focused on the way her hand rests on your thigh, a silent promise of what's to come.

When you get to her apartment, she unlocks the door and leads you inside. You both drop your bags by the entrance, and she turns to you, eyes searching your face as if looking for any sign of hesitation. but there's none. You reach for her, pulling her close, and she kisses you again—deeper this time, like she's been starving for it.

You spend the night together, wrapped up in each other, bruises and all. It's not gentle or slow; it's rough and passionate—the kind of release you've both needed for so long. And when it's over, you lie tangled together in her bed, your head on her chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart.

In the quiet, she runs her fingers through your hair, her touch surprisingly soft. "I guess that settles it," she chuckles.

You tilt your head up to look at her, confused. "Settles what?"

She smirks, brushing a thumb over your swollen lip. "Who really won tonight."

[holybasementdweller]

wanted to add my two cents because shipping discourse is just all over recently. Forgive me rambling a bit here. I have a lot of thoughts on this topic and would like to get them out there in some form.

Stop harassing CC's about their boundaries.

Would you go up to a random person whom you've never met before in your life, who has never met you either, and likely has no idea who you are, purely to ask them if you can draw/write/ship them with one of their co-workers?

No! It's a wildly uncomfortable question to a lot of people, it puts them on the spot, and some CC's may not care as long as they never see it. Now that the concept has been shoved in their face, they're forced to view the idea.

I feel like a large part of the issue is the divide between younger, newer fandom members and older, traditional ones. Primarily the concept that fan content is not intended for CCs, but for fans specifically. Most 'traditional' and older fandom participants follow this view because that's what fandom is. You get to make cool things, and ramble about different head cannons and ideas with your friends and maybe find other fans who become your friends along the way. Maybe you want to throw these characters you really like into this elaborate superhero AU, or draw them in costume, or explore relationship dynamics because it's fun and you get to ramble with fellow fans. It's called a fandom for a reason!

I'd like to clarify here that this post is not meant to target anyone in particular; it's going off a general trend I've noticed.

There's been an influx of people who create fan works or fanart that seems to be aimed more to gain clout or to be noticed by CCs. It's something they wanted to make, but is leaving the realm of "by fans, for fans," in a sense that it seems to have lost more of that "for fans." The work is then shoved at the CC more aggressively than if it was just for friends.

There's a reason that spaces like AO3 and Tumblr exist with such large fan communities- because the communities are meant for fans. It's all well and good when CC's decide to take a peek or participate in said fan spaces of their own volition. They're the ones making the choice to engage. It's NOT all well and good when someone, as a fan, is trying to make that choice FOR them by shoving fanworks at the CC begging for clarification on what is okay with them. You're not going to help anyone in that way. Fan spaces exist separately from the CC spaces for a reason. The CC is a person behind the screen who you don't know. The character or role they play in the series you watch? You might know just about everything there is to know about them!

If a CC has laid out a boundary that they aren't comfortable with X Y Z, then there's a really, really simple solution here. Don't show it to them.

Don't put it in main tags, don't tag them in the post, hell, block the CC so you know they won't be able to view something that makes them uncomfortable.

There's a lot of what comes across as almost puritanical virtue signaling I've seen lately, where people are talking about CC boundaries everywhere and trying to police fanwork. I will again refer you to the point above. The fanwork is not made for the CC. It is made for fans, and if it is something the CC isn't comfortable with, then don't go posting it where they might regularly look at things (such as main fanart/fanwork tags.)

Yes, there are CCs who are over here. Yes, they look through fan works. This app is primarily a fan-oriented space and it has tags that CC's (or anyone else!!) can block to avoid things they are uncomfortable with. Though at this point the few that are over here either were already gay dot com natives or have basically become one.

I may have gone a bit off my original topic but TL;DR:

KEEP FAN WORKS TO FAN SPACES, AND STOP HARASSING THE CC'S PLEASE. LET THEM EXIST IN PEACE.

[yagiichan]

In every Universe, it's always you.

Platonic!AU!141 x fem!reader

Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

TW: Angst, Romance, Betrayal, 18+ MINORS DNI, mentions of rape, mentions of smut, torture, LONG READ

Reader comes from a parallel universe. After witnessing the death of your comrades at the hands of General Shepherd, and barely escaping death, you manage to find your way into another reality. A reality where your comrades are still alive, meaning your love was still alive. You make it your mission to ensure nothing like this happens again.

-----------

Guns armed and readied as 141 aimed at the menacing red hole that appeared in their quarters. No noise was made besides the tormented howling and whirring coming from the same red portal. What was minutes felt like hours, and no movement was made. Ghost eyed the rest of his team, as they did the same. Nodding in understanding that something is about to happen. Heads cocked, fingers on the trigger, making sure to not lose their focus.

Finally, a low growl came from the red apparition. A battered body stumbles through, landing on their knees hard. Face and body covered in tactical gear similar to theirs.

A synchronized click is heard throughout the room, as 141 took their safety off.

 The portal slowly closed behind the fallen individual, leaving only their heavy pants to fill the room. Suddenly, a hand is raised to the unknown entity’s head, quickly removing their headgear, and throwing it off to some unknown corner. With closer inspection, they recognize it to be a woman.

-----------

You stared at the ground, hurling up any content that was in your stomach.

One moment, you were standing over your General, knife in hand, covered in his blood. The next, you’re in a familiar, yet unknown space. You felt pain throbbing through your whole body, knowing this was not some fucked up dream.

You continued to heave out whatever you could. Mixtures of bile and blood splattering the floor, droplets bouncing back up to your face. You felt like your eyes were about to pop right out of their sockets, but it never came.

Finally done, you looked up from your position, taking in the room. You saw faces that you thought you’d never seen again.

All members of 141, standing ready, guns pointed at you. Captain Price, Gaz… Soap, and… Simon. Your Simon.

Your sunken eyes widened, staring intently at him. Your hoarse voice trying to rip through, calling out to your comrades.

“…Johnny…Simon…” you croaked. Stunned once more, all members of 141 slowly lowered their guns.

“Simon…” again, you spoke, but this time tears swelling up at the sight of your lost love. You wanted to cry out, run up to him, and hug him. To kiss him all over his face, but darkness took you. All you could hear were the muffled scuttling of feet and murmurs before you fell into a deep sleep.

-----------

The 141 watched as your body finally gave in, slamming right into the ground. You laid there, cold, and still.

With a quick signal from Price, Gaz skulked over immediately, checking your pulse. Faint but living. Gaz inspected your face; old bruises littered your cheeks. Lacerations across your lips, and eyes. One ear with the tip sliced off. Your face carved up, only recently to be healed. Remnants of bruising around your neck, indicating rope to hold you in place.

“She needs help. ASAP. We’ve got to get her to the Infirmary Capt’n” Gaz stated with urgency. Price nodded with acknowledgement.

“Get her moving. Make sure this is contained. Do not let anyone else know of this without my say. Get Laswell on the line.” Price commanded. Immediately, Gaz is picking you up on his back.

“Soap, follow’em. Make sure they get there fast.”

“Ay, sir.” Soap trailed after immediately. Almost frantically, especially after hearing his name come from you.

Price made his way towards Ghost, still on high-alert. Silence filled the air. Neither knew what to make of this situation. Who are you? Where did you come from? Why did you know them? Why did you call out to Soap and Simon specifically?

“Y’know er then, lad?” Soap questioned, eyes fixed on your form shrinking further and further into the hallway.

“No.” Ghost stated. His eyes following Price’s. He watched your fading form, about to round a corner, before your eyes opened slightly, stained red and glazed, stared at him for just a moment. Your hand weakly raised towards him, mouthing weakly, not sure what you were trying to say. He had an inkling of an idea.

Ghost tensed up, feeling his heart break, despite not even knowing who you are. Something in him yearned for you. He grounded himself, turning towards Price after what felt like forever. Quietly murmuring amongst themselves on what just happened.

-----------

Shy as you were, you made yourself a worthwhile asset to the 141. You had been together for some time on the task force, before you both warmed up to each other. It started off as simple bickering between teammates, then it evolved into flirtatious comments. After a rough mission, where you pulled Simon’s battered body into a dark corner, away from the crossfire, you shed tears, pleading for him to stay awake as you sutured his wounds crudely. After the mission Simon proclaimed his intentions to you, as you wholeheartedly agreed.

Those were the happiest moments of your life, and it was all ripped away.

You screamed and shouted, tears stinging your eyes immediately, as you watched a .44 mag bullet pierce straight through his body.

A smoking .44 mag pointed by General Shepherd. The General Shepherd that all 141 looked up to. Who stated they would follow him to the depths of hell. The same man that instead threw his own men into the pits of hell, laughing as they descended further and further into darkness.

He looked at Shepherd, before turning to you. His eyes were haunting. His arms outstretched, looking for your warmth. He tried to move forward. Closer to you. You reached as far as you could but could never make it. Simon’s eyes crinkled in pain before being lazily kicked backwards. Blood coughed up, turning the white ink of his balaclava a deep oozing red. His armor, now coated with the same red.

Before Soap could make his move the General then pointed his gun at Soap, pulling the trigger immediately. Soap falls as well, with only the remnants of a gun shot ringing through the air, and the laughter of your ‘General’.

You continued to scream your head off, watching your comrades kicked into a ditch, a flame lit, and thrown down to burn their bodies.

“Why?!” You cried out, rage filling your being. You lunged forward, but could not move, being held down by Shepherd’s lackeys.

He looked at you with cold eyes. A sadistic smirk flourishing across his face. His mustache twitching upwards, revealing the bone white of his teeth.

“Loose ends.” He’d state matter-of-factly. He sauntered closer to you; your senses running wild to fight. You kicked and screamed. Nashed your teeth at him and at your captors. You flailed your arms, attempting to break free. Finally, capturing one of the men’s hands in your mouth you tore away his flesh immediately.

“Fuck! Fucking stupid bitch!” the unknown soldier screamed. Another handheld your head back before a harsh fist collided with your jaw, dislocating it almost immediately. Another fist came down harshly, feeling the immediate swell of your face. That didn’t stop you though. None of the pain mattered. All you wanted was to get to your comrades. To Soap, to Simon. Your Simon.

You continued to thrash and scream, only briefly interrupted by another thwack to the face. Over and over again, but it never stopped you from latching on to anything around you. You howled, but never in pain. No, that will never happen. You won’t ever give them that satisfaction. You raged in anger. Explosive, pure rage coursed through your veins.

“I’m going to get you! I’m going to fucking get you! And when I do, I’m going to fucking eat your guts and shit you OUT! I’m going to make you watch me, when I tear you apart. I’ll get you, and when I do, you’ll beg for my mercy.” You screeched as loudly as you could, but your threats were ignored.

After what felt like an eternity your body stopped flailing. Blood poured from your nose. Your jaw broken, saliva mixed with your blood, oozing from your mouth. Your breath broken, and uneven. Face swollen, lacerations littering your beautiful visage. Yet, you felt nothing. Only the howling sadness that took over as you watched your two closest companions shot and killed in cold blood.

“Feisty thing, aren’t ye’ lass? You did well holdin’ up.” Shepherd clicked. Waving his arms off, after landing blow after blow on you. Trying to hide the pain that started to fester in his fists. Your captors growing tired from your flailing, wanting to put a bullet to your head and end your miserable life.

“Now,” he spoke menacingly, “let’s see how well you can stand when we go back home, ey?” He laughed that same disgusting laugh, cupping your broken jaw, pointing your face at him.

It rang through your ears, but you didn’t feel any fear, you felt nothing, besides the rage and emptiness that filled your being. You remained silent, your body no longer willing to fight.

Suddenly, a snap, and you just continued to stare at the General. You said nothing, still looking intently at the coward before you. And you smiled a sickening sweet smile. Blood splotches coated your teeth, as you opened your mouth to speak.

“Are you a religious man, General Shepherd?” You asked innocently. He was not impressed. Silence filled the air once more.

“I hope you are,” You croaked. “Before you go to bed, make sure you pray with all your might. Pray tightly with your hands clutched together.” You continued to pant out.

“Pray to God for mercy. Pray to him with all your heart, that my shadow will never darken your steps, General” you laughed a low, tired laugh.

Throwing your face to the side, the general took the butt of his gun, finally knocking you out.

-----------

You were recon, and you did a damn good job at it. You were trusted with information that many others could not even think to get their hands on.

Not even General Shepherd could fathom the knowledge you held in your brain. And that’s all he wanted from you.

When you came to, you took in your surrounds. White, padded walls, with a single table and a gray door. You tried to move, only to find your hands cuffed down to said table. You looked around more, replaying the death of your comrades over and over again in your head.

You began to rattle around relentlessly as memories began to flood your mind. Soon the door swung open to reveal the same man that destroyed your life, Shepherd.

You shook more violently, in an attempt to break free. Animalistic howls and shouts filled the room, as you continued to get your hands on the man you once thought of as your comrade. Your eyes devoid of anything but rage.

“Well, well. Good morning Lassy. How’d ya sleep?” Shepherd whistled, before pulling up a chair and sitting infront of you, just out of your reach. You kept stretching out, in an attempt to grab him, only to barely knick him with your claws.

Shepherd clicked his tongue again before grabbing your wrist onto the table, pulling out a knife, and plunging it straight through your hand. You screamed in agony, but not deterring your feral mind.

“Looks like we’re gonna have to take the dog to get her nails clipped ey?” Shepherd asked his soldiers.

“Ay, sir. Maybe muzzle it up. Make sure it don’t bite like last time.”

Your eyes quickly snap to the soldier speaking, recognizing him to be the one that you tore a chunk out of. You chuckled, holding your stare.

“I wouldn’t mind another bite.”

With that, the soldier attempted to lunge at you, before Shepherd stopped him with a chest on his arm. Calming down, he returns to his previous position, fury prevalent in his eyes.

Another soldier came around with rope in his hand, suddenly wrapping it around your neck, pulling your head backwards in a choke. You began to sputter, looking around in panic. A pair of pliers slowly emerged from below the table, as Shepherd moved towards your hands.

“Now, be a good lass…” Shepherd spoke softly before beginning the removal of your nails.

You continued to scream in agony, begging for someone to come save you. Anyone.

“Oh, no, no, no. None of that deary.” He laughed, “No one here to save you.”

-----------

You didn’t know how long you’ve been stuck in this hellhole. Hours, days, weeks? Months? You didn’t know what was going on. You felt numb. You were now laid up against the wall on the floor. You thought this would be the end of your life.

You had gone through another round of torture, another round of fists colliding with your already broken face. You no longer screamed, no longer reacted. You had shut down.

Weeks of frustration had begun to build up in the General, as you did not leak even your meal for the day. You did not budge. You only screamed when in pain, and continued to sleep. Passing the days, only thinking about your friends. What had become of Price? Of Gaz? Did they know you were gone? That you were locked in some white, sterile basement? That Soap and Simon’s body were thrown somewhere in a ditch?

Oh, God. Johnny. Simon. Every time your mind travelled to them you tried to cry. You wanted to mourn your fallen comrades. Your fallen love. Yet, you couldn’t. You continued to stare blankly at the door in front of you.

Suddenly, the same door was swung open. What greeted you was the same soldier whom you had chunked out. Nobody else was around besides him. You looked up at him in confusion, as he stared down at you with menace, and something else. You finally felt dread in your heart, as you recognized the look of lust that adorned his wretched face.

“General Shepherd’s getting real tired of your antics, bitch. And so am I,” he breathed out heavily. He stalked closer to you, slowly unbuckling his pants, palming at his growing bulge. You tried to back away from him, warning him that you’d take another bite out of him if he came any closer.

Genuine fear began to fester in your being. Flashes of Simon, embracing your body tenderly, came to your mind. The tears you thought dried up suddenly began to flow again. You shook your head vigorously. You did not want to be taken by this dog. You wanted Simon.

“No… No!!” You tried to create distance, but you were locked in place.

“Don’t worry. When I’m done with you, you’ll forget all about ‘em. I’ll get you mewing like a kitten. Purrin’.” He licked his lips with vicious sadism.

“I’m your only salvation in this hole, baby. Be compliant, and I’ll put in a good word. You can get out. Just give yourself to me.”

But you didn’t listen. You cried and screamed, soon to be muffled out with the same rope that held your head in place, now covering your mouth.

“Sorry girly. Can’t have you bitin me the way you’s was bitin’ me before.” He chuckled.

“I’ll train you up good, girl.” He licked your neck lecherously. Disgusting piece of shit. Undoing the chains that tightly clasped your legs together, you used it as an immediate opportunity to lock his head in place. You continued to squeeze his head, despite feeling his nails and punches wailing effortlessly at your being. With your bound hands, you cupped both into a fist, before violently thrashing it into his head. You kept thrashing until you heard the satisfying crunch of his skull caving in.

And suddenly, his body goes limp. Keys, still in his hand, you wiggle him out of your grasp, before using your feet to grab the keys. Leaning forward, you manage to jingle the keys into your cuffs, finally freeing yourself of your vices.

Massaging your wrists, you began uncuffing everything else. You sighed in victory. You were free.

--------------- AUTHOR NOTES: What up ya'll. I'm here again because I've recently been drowning in angst. Shout out to CriminalAmnesia for making the amazing Traitor series. My story does not relate to theirs. It is just literal inspiration, and perhaps a little bit of a reprieve for aching heart.

It's going to take some time, but I will be building onto this story. Please remember, I am just here to have fun. Reality is that I'm just a college student who is going through midterm madness atm. Again, sorry if it seems all over the place. This definitely took a darker turn than I had anticipated, but tbh I love it. I still got a lot in my system that I've got to get out. Anyways, hope ya'll enjoy it.

[moonesaiky]

Your reverse falls AU looks so amazing I've been so obsessed, I'd love to know more about it so this is me on my knees asking for a little lore drop🧎‍♀️‍➡️🙏

How about we talk about how Will got to Earth? This concept is a bit confusing, so the text is going to be a bit long, I doubt you'll read it all but I'll post it anyway!!!

First of all, it's important to inform you that Ford, just before this, manipulated Will into a deal where he would take his soul “ok, Moone, how?”

here's a text from my pocket demon (co-creator) with the explanation!

“He couldn't trick him like that, it was too daring. So he was going to trick that angel back. Revenge. He was already obsessed, so that angel, his Muse, would definitely be his now.

He would prove to be smarter than a creature like that. So he came up with a good line, saying that he actually agreed with William (and in a way he did) but that he needed some time to finalize things. In the meantime, Gleeful began studying forbidden rituals on how to manipulate a contract.

Then, on returning to William, he said that he needed a helper who wasn't human. He mentioned whether William had any friends, and lucky for Gleeful, William mentioned his gang. Talks came and went, and the scientist said that he wanted to choose one of the gang members, and William agreed, thus making a contract. But it was never said that there were exceptions.

So it's obvious that the chosen member was William himself. That blue devil posing as a fake angel felt more than foolish for falling for such a low trick.” (And yes, this is inspired by Dipper and Bill's Puppet Opera deal! Yay)

Now that this concept has been explained, let's explain what exactly happens to the Portal in this universe.

Stanford Gleeful has always been very stubborn about the portal, refusing to lift a finger to make it, but he wanted it, he needed it for his great human liberation. Will now in possession of Forrd couldn't complain, not in a way that could hurt Ford, and he insisted that he would do it one way or another in the most perfectionist way he could. That's why the portal took 30 years to make, with various tests that may have affected Gravity Falls, but didn't give away the location of the portal.

Okay, where does Will come into this? Well, it's no mystery to anyone that Ford is obsessed with Will, and having him in his possession without being able to have him completely (physically) made him think. Okay, maybe an interdimensional creature really was useful for building the portal, and having him there too… that would be curious… that was around the beginning of the 90s.

At one of the portal's openings, Ford forced Will to enter by pulling him by the chains, a very unpleasant situation for William. Especially as he had to dress up as the Maid :P

[tadc-harlequin-au]

Hey, so as a person who'll be legal next year, I don't know what exactly happened here with minors (I was at school), but regardless I wanted to say sorry that you have to deal with that. You shouldn't have to deal with people who Don't Listen, especially people around my age.

I also wanted you to know that I absolutely love your AU as a whole. The storyline and art genuinely make my brain go in all sorts of good directions, and tbh the art style is inspiring my own a bit.

Hope you're doing well

Just some minors interacting with a clearly labeled "Minors Do not Interact" post in bold and big letters like as if that's not in place there to shield them away from the nsfw. I even hid the damn thing under a cut so that they can walk away from it without being exposed in case of accidental encounters

What's worse was that the minor in question was the first to even interact with it before anyone else and that pisses me off just how easily they ignored the many warning signs in place, all to comment a damn flustered emoji. like flashing a bright neon sign of "DON'T GO INTO THE SCARY DARK HOLE" in their face but they think "eh. I can handle it"

I understand that most teens have the mindset of thinking they're more mature and can handle 18+ content, and no one at that age really realizes how immature that mindset is until they reach the same age as we do because they're all too excited and blinded at the idea of being "adults", doing "adult" things... But still. Come on. Just read the sign and respect it.

I promise you, you will not regret it, and you are not missing out on anything because it's not for you in the first place.

At least you seem cool, right on tho anon, right on

Thanks for being inspired with my art and for liking my silly little story :3 This AU has certainly become bigger than what I had initially in mind but honestly? I love writing and making stuff for it, and I'm very thankful to have an audience that is as enthusiastic to learn about it's world as I am eager to tell it. It's literally a storyteller's dream come true :')

[accirax]

As of the latest episode, with all the secrets out in the open, do you have any changed opinions on the general outcomes of your “Secret Swap: For Better or Worse”?

Now that is a fantastic question! Thank you for remembering that this post existed-- I wasn't sure if anybody other than me did 😅 (And also, thank you for your patience while waiting for me to respond to you.) Here's a link to the post in question for anyone who might not know what fatherfigurefusion is asking about. As for the contents of that AU...

DRDT Secret Swap AU: For Better or Worse - REVISIONS

(CW for the suite of issues that we always have to talk about when it comes to the DRDT secrets: murder, death, suicide, implied homophobia/transphobia, self harm, eating disorders.)

Well, first of all, it's good for me that (other than the Xander/Teruko swap thing still not being confirmed) all of the secrets landed in the way in which I thought they would at the time I wrote that post. I would have had a lot more workshopping to do if, say, Hu had been the murderer without remorse and Levi had been the hopeless child.

I think I'll run through each choice I made individually, and then maybe try to fix any issues I encounter at the end after summing up the situation.

The Good Timeline

Eden receives Levi’s secret

Well, Eden did have a more negative reaction to Levi's secret than I initially anticipated in this post, criticizing him for being selfish in hardly even remembering whose lives he took. However, Levi also (presumably) has a more positive reaction to being approached with his secret than I feared. He was willing to share it with everyone himself, so I doubt he would threaten Eden if she were to approach him with it.

An updated summary of what might have happened: Eden receives Levi's secret, and is a little frightened, but might want more details before judging Levi fully (after all, she already knows that his family weren't the best of people). If she decides to approach him about it, Levi coolly explains what exactly his secret means. Eden's discomfort grows, which makes Levi feel bad.

Is it a fantastic scenario? Not really. But are there any better solutions to Levi's secret out there? Debatable. I think this one held up decently.

Nico receives David's secret

I still stand by this one, despite David being even more wild than initially expected. There's definitely a chance that Nico would just bluntly say the secret at some point if they determined that David was being manipulative. But, at the very least, Nico wouldn't be bringing their own drama to the situation-- just potentially elevating others' via timing.

It's a hard secret to deal with, but I still think that Nico is one of the better options.

Hu receives Ace's secret

So, this one obviously gains the new complications that we now canonically know that Ace was the killer, and that he was planning to do so basically before the motives were even revealed. I still think that Hu would probably react in much the way I "predicted" (assuming Ace's former bullying of Nico didn't already damn him in her eyes too much). But, I also don't think that hearing kind words from Hu would be enough to dissuade Ace from wanting to kill for his own safety.

Therefore, what happens to Hu after Ace kills? Is she now stuck in the opinion of defending Ace at the Class Trial, and being inevitably disappointed when he's revealed to truly be the killer? I guess that's not that different from what Hu canonically did with Nico, but it's not like that's going to be great for her mental health either. Not to mention 1) she would have been speaking up for a previously more controversial figure, therefore bringing her judgment even further into question for ever trusting Ace at all, and 2) Ace would actually die at the end, which would be worse for Hu's "wanting to be reliable and save people" bit.

For those reasons, I think this assignment is... dubious, but Ace's secret is also much more of a loaded gun now that we know that he was already planning to kill prior to the secrets' existence. I don't think there's any assignment I could make that would convince Ace out of killing.

J receives Eden's secret

This one still makes a ton of sense to me.

Rose receives J's secret

While I may wind up shuffling this one around in order to defuse another secret's problem, I think the logic behind this assessment holds true.

"Xander" receives Arei's secret

Also still makes sense to me. Let my girl rest. (But not in peace.) (Well, wait.) (You know what I mean!!!)

Arturo receives Min's secret

I don't think that any of our further explanations of Arturo's traumas would make the "poisoning the competition" secret any more traumatic to him. Thus, it still works.

David receives Xander's secret

I. Um. Wow.

I'm pretty certain I wasn't the only one caught off guard by the true extent of how much David cares/d about Xander. With the "knowledge" that David was planning on throwing the killing game and slaughtering everyone in pursuit of Xander's ideals-- taking into account that his actions may have been falsified/exaggerated, of course-- I fear that leaving David with this secret might be irresponsible.

If his emotions surrounding Xander grew even fiercer, so might his determination to bring the killing game to an end. No matter how much what David said in the Class Trial was the truth, I don't think giving him Xander's secret would have the "out of commission" effect I wrote about. This is definitely one I'd like to reassign, if possible.

Arei receives Whit's secret

Now, we have the confirmation that Arei didn't tell anyone about having Levi's secret! We still (understandably) don't know anything about Arei's relationship with her mom, though. Still, this one is looking good.

Veronika receives Charles' secret

As it turns out, Veronika actually found the secrets overall pretty boring (or at least, so she tells us), and only didn't reveal Hu's secret because of the pact she made with Hu. However, I still think that the logic behind her revealing the secret to Charles early holds, and that it's for the best that Charles learns this information on the sooner side. So, this one is still good!

Levi receives Arturo's secret

Well. We know that Levi wouldn't condemn someone for murdering a family member! If anything, if he treated Felicity's death like his own father's, he'd just forget that he ever read the secret. That's a joke, but I think I did a good job with deescalating Arturo's secret.

The worst consequences I can see here are 1) Levi coming to believe that Arturo is a bad person (which may have been the case already?), and/or 2) Levi could callously spill Arturo's secret to the group if he didn't understand the gravity of the sentiment. We don't exactly know how Arturo would react to his secret being shared publicly in a non-Class Trial setting, but given how he treated Eden in his mini-breakdown in 2-10, I can't imagine it would be good.

However, those are only hypotheticals, and I don't know if I'd really get any better by giving Arturo's secret to someone else. I still stand by most of the logic, so I think this choice would remain.

Ace receives Veronika's secret

I still think that nothing bad would happen from this assignment. Which means... Ace would proceed in his plan to kill Eden. Yay...?

Now that we finally have the answer as to who the killer is, it's really weird to look at this good AU. Every time, I'm like, "phew, we didn't do anything to give someone the motivation to kill!" But, as I don't think there are any secrets Ace could receive that would convince him not to kill, that just means that the "good timeline" is condemning Eden to die. Is that really better than some of the other timelines?

That's a bit more philosophical than I think is required for this AU re-analysis, so we'll just give this one a pass.

Teruko receives Hu's secret

Honestly, I think this one got better since I proposed it. This was probably my least favorite assignment of the original good AU. However, now we know that Hu had interest in forming a pact of secrecy with the person who held her secret.

Naturally, it's possible that she was only able to make this pact with Veronika because they had each other's secrets. I have no idea how Hu would have figured out that Veronika had her secret otherwise, barring a Hu!Mastermind situation.

However, as we saw in canon, Teruko decided to approach Rose and ask Rose about her secret. If Teruko did that in this AU, then Hu could surely ask Teruko not to tell others about her secret, and I imagine Teruko would oblige. It removes the possibility I was worried about with Hu feeling insecure about someone learning this about her; while that may still be the case, we can assume that instead of lashing out, she would just ask Teruko to keep it on the down low. This one's good!

Charles receives Rose's secret

I mean. Yeah.

Whit receives Nico's secret

Yeah x2. I do wonder how Whit would react if Nico tried to ask him for help with regards to Ace's bullying, though. I doubt that would actually happen, given that Nico doesn't trust anyone. Still, I'm curious if Whit would turn a blind eye like he did to their arguing canonically, or if that direct connection to Nico's mental health would call him to action a la Charles.

"Min" receives Teruko's secret

If David's creepy-ass smile didn't convince you that this secret should remain dead and buried, I don't know what will. This one can stay.

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Finally, we've finished recapping the good version! In the end, I was still happy with 13/16 of my answers, which is a pretty good batting average.

But, how would I fix it? Well, as I alluded to in Rose's section, I think I would wind up giving Rose a different secret than J even though it was fine, just because Rose is a really useful slot to have. The best solution I could come up with is that Rose gets Ace's secret, David gets J's secret, and Hu gets Xander's secret.

I don't think that anyone would get mad at Rose for throwing away Ace's secret because it's pretty personal and likely not murder-related. And, Veronika was able to figure out that the secret belonged to Ace mere moments after hearing it for the first time anyways.

While giving David's secret to J is a bit of a dangerous game, I don't think he'd really be able to do much with it pre-Trial without blowing his cover. He might reveal the secret at the Trial just to throw things off track, but even when the secret was with Rose, it probably would have been revealed via process of elimination at the Trial anyways. We don't get the "take David out of commission" factor that made the assignment extra good the first time around, but that was a fluke. I don't think there's anything here that could stop David from David-ing.

I am banking on the fact that learning about Xander's suicidal tendencies wouldn't reignite any old feelings in Hu, but I think it would be okay. I would imagine that their circumstances are pretty different, and (on the surface, at least) Hu seems pretty resolute in her newfound desire to live.

As for Levi's secret, I think the best path for it would be to bury it in the "Xander" or "Min" slot and hand Eden either Arei or Teruko's secrets. Obviously, both of those are very loaded choices, given that Arei and Teruko are almost certainly the two characters that Eden is most connected to in the narrative right now.

In Arei's case, if Eden approached her about her secret, I think that encounter would play out much like the canonical clock-making scene did. However, that means that (if David is still in the area, I guess) they would also have that same rebound that would lead to Arei declaring herself Eden's friend-- albeit probably not as dramatically, given that in this universe, Arturo never attacks Eden. Of course, if Ace is still in the area, that then raises the question of whether the target would still change from Eden to Arei if Arei didn't make such a bold declaration. Which is the better scenario? That's impossible to say, because they both suck. Still, things to think about.

In Teruko's case, it really depends on how kindhearted Eden is feeling at the moment. I want to believe that Eden would approach "the killing game is all your fault" with skepticism and patience, and talk to Teruko to learn that she (most likely) has no memory of anything like this being the case. If Teruko could see that Eden wouldn't immediately turn against her at her literal worst, it would probably go a long way. That being said, it would be totally reasonable for Eden to be upset and worried about reading this secret, and to therefore begin to distrust Teruko.

Both of these situations raise enough issues that I can't decisively determine if they're better than just leaving Eden with Levi's secret. I'll leave it up to you to decide which iteration you personally prefer.

On to the bad section!

The Bad Timeline

As I said in the original AU post, it's difficult to determine which options are truly the worst when there are so many terrible options. Therefore, I expect that most-if-not-all of these options will still get a pass at least. We'll see if I wind up having enough brain cells to change anything in the end.

And, on that note...

Ace receives Levi's secret

Yeah, this one is still bad! Knowing what we know now, Ace is definitely killing if he gets Levi's secret, possibly faster. I do wonder if it would wind up leading Ace to target Levi, even if I'm not sure how he would pull that off. If Ace tried and failed, could it lead to Levi killing Ace instead? Eh, Ace probably wouldn't even try, given that everyone would suspect him if Levi were to turn up dead. "A reason to stay mad at you," indeed.

Veronika receives David's secret

The logic behind this one still cracks me up. Totally still think I'm right, though.

Levi receives Ace's secret

This one is okay. Really, the pushback I'm running into is just that things are already so bad with Ace that I don't think this extra layer of distrust would make things all that much worse. Plus, I don't know if Levi would pick up on the subtler implications of Ace's secret anymore. The question is just, "is there a better way that we can screw over Levi in this situation?" We'll just have to wait and see.

"Xander" receives Eden's secret

Sorry for kinda closeting you, Eden. But, that's what makes this selection so bad. And that's why it stays.

Arturo receives J's secret

There's no way to make J more miserable than to directly hand her secret over to Arturo. We'll continue sticking with canon on this one.

Hu receives Arei's secret

I didn't even mention in my original passage that Hu's love for her family would put her at odds with Arei's treatment of her sisters. That's really terrible, I say with a thumbs up.

Rose receives Min's secret

Tracks.

Teruko receives Xander's secret

While the whole David thing didn't really pan out, I do think that Teruko's segment still makes sense. It's possible we could do worse, but it's not like giving Teruko more reasons to hate herself is a terrible conclusion. I mean, it is, but not for the sake of crafting the worst possible timeline. You know how it is.

Charles receives Whit's secret

Charwhit angst :((((( Good thing that'll never happen in canon! Ha ha. This section is oxygen-potassium, which would also be potassium oxide (K2O), a corrosive compound! Or, you can just call it O-K.

Whit receives Charles' secret

Meanwhile, this section gets a heart from me.

Arei receives Arturo's secret

So if Arturo were in this even worse mental state after Arei wrecking his shop, possibly even being the blackened himself, would Levi also die? Because, Teruko was presumably planning on enacting her plan no matter who the blackened was, and DefaultTV would presumably always punish Teruko for it, and Levi (unless he too was too distracted by this motive) would probably still step in front of Teruko to repay his "debt" to her. However, if Arturo was either the one up for execution or too hateful of himself or anyone else to be spurred to surgery, we'd probably lose Levi too. It's even worse than I thought! Which means it's fully approved.

David receives Veronika's secret

Although this one kinda reads to me as "not that bad," it's important to keep in mind that I gave David a "not that bad" secret so that he would continue to encourage other people to share theirs. That's important for screwing over everyone else. So, I think this one will remain, but I could see blowing it up if it would help something else worsen.

Nico receives Hu's secret

This choice has always been one that I've felt was difficult to talk about, as was probably apparent by the million disclaimers I put at the beginning of it. Because of that, I'm sort of inclined to dissolve it. However, I... think it still holds up?

We also now have the direct confirmation that Hu wanted to keep her secret under wraps because she didn't want others to see her as weak or unreliable. If Nico was holding on to Hu's secret, she would likely only figure that out in a moment of stress, when people needed her to be reliable the most. My point is, she might go into further overdrive trying to prove to Nico that she really is reliable, which would only make things more stressful for Nico and more annoying for everyone else. With that additional reasoning, I don't currently see any reason why this should be changed.

"Min" receives Rose's secret

I didn't realize before that I had Rose and Min swap secrets-- not that it really matters, given that I could have just as easily given Rose's secret to "Xander." Anyways, this also tracks.

Eden receives Nico's secret

I still feel mean for this one 😅 But, y'know, that's just what life is like for a professional Eden Bully. Which is worse, threatening a lesbian with homophobia or falsely accusing her of murder for a year and a half? (/j) Jokes aside, this will remain.

J receives Teruko's secret

Guys, did you know that J HATES MURDER? Forget the theorist's "I feel like" disqualifier, J would definitely tell everyone and their annoying celebrity mom that everything in Teruko's life is worth killing for. Like a fine wine, this got better with age.

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Unsurprisingly, after what I predicted at the beginning, I wound up approving 15/16 of these options. The only one I really had any issues with was Levi getting Ace's secret.

The worst secret for Levi to receive would probably be either something that makes him perceive a "good person" as a "bad person" or a "bad person" as a "good person." So, like, Teruko maybe for the former? And the worst person for Ace's secret to go to would probably be someone who would outright weaponize it against him, so possibly someone like Arei or David.

If I wanted to shuffle things around, I think it would give David Ace's secret and give Levi Veronika's secret. Ace's secret is also the kind of juicy insight that could still allow David to pull his manipulator BS, and David could absolutely destroy that man in the Class Trial, blackened or not, with the info when the time was right. Meanwhile, I could see Levi being like, "well, if it's stopping Veronika from hurting herself, then... her talent is a "good" thing, right? Every day I grow more jealous of you and your amazing perception, Veronika..." Honestly, I think I do like that one more than what I originally wrote. Let's roll with it.

And now, nearly two months after this ask was sent in, I'm finally done with it! Once again, I'm sorry I spent so long to complete this relatively simple ask. I hope this lived up to your expectations! Thanks for sending it in :)