#my fic: bloodstains

[irondad-defensesquad]

Tony, suddenly awake and horrified, asks in a rather low voice, "Where did that blood come from?"

"Wait, it's okay, Mr. Stark!" It's not actually blood, it's just ketchup! "It's not bleeding anymore!" Fuck.

[voxofthevoid]

I've finished Chapter 1 of the no-powers Unclekuna fic, which means...incest! Here's a sampling of Yuuji perving on his Very Big uncle, for those interested:

Sukuna takes a threatening step forward. “I look like your butler, brat?”

Yuuji makes a show of giving Sukuna a once-over. He’s dressed…exactly like he always dresses, in a loose tank top and a looser pair of sweatpants. Yuuji can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen Sukuna in anything else, and two of those were formal occasions: his parents’ wedding when he was five and his grandfather’s funeral last year.

“No,” he says, pointedly staring at the swell of Sukuna’s pecs over the low-cut neck of the tank. It’s practically cleavage. “You really don’t.”

Yuuji’s eyes drop, after a surreptitious look around to see whether any of the other passers-by are paying him any attention. They’re not, though more than one pair of eyes stray to Sukuna.

The hem of the tank top falls past Sukuna’s ass, but one corner of it is tucked into the waistband—not on purpose, just a careless catch of fabric on fabric. It still bares most of his ass, and the sweatpants are loose along Sukuna’s legs but obscenely clingy at this part. There’s a lot to cling to.

Scary hot, that one guy said. Most of the others seemed to agree.

Yuuji can’t really blame them. After all, he’s thought that and worse since he was twelve.

He mutters something else, too low for Yuuji to catch, and resumes the push-ups, noticeably faster and more violent than before. For a moment, Yuuji just watches the growing stains on his tank top, the red of it turning darker and wetter along Sukuna’s side and back. The black sweatpants don’t show it, but if Yuuji slid his hand into the space between Sukuna’s thighs, he’d find damp fabric.

“I get it,” Yuuji says. “I mean, I’m a lot heavier now, and you’re all old. You’d break something.”

Sukuna stills, everywhere.

For a moment, there’s no noise, not even breathing. Yuuji’s chest burns around a hundred different things.

“Get on.”

He straightens up and steps over Sukuna, till he’s standing with his legs on either side of his uncle’s waist. The broad back under him ripples, Sukuna shifting without really changing the angle or height of his body. Yuuji leans down again, bracing both hands on Sukuna’s shoulders.

The muscles under his palms are hot and damp from exertion. They flex, and Yuuji grips tighter in instinctive response, shuddering all over at the sheer power he’s feeling.

“Oi, brat,” Sukuna says, a nasty edge to his voice, “those ain’t tits. Stop groping and move.”

Yuuji swallows all the things he wants to say to that, moving as asked instead. And maybe he digs his knee into Sukuna’s back harder than needed, but the answering grunt would’ve been worth it even if he’d felt any guilt for it.

[lavenoon]

Conjunction (~9.9K)

More menace4menace, based on @naffeclipse's Bloodstain Fool with the og detective au by sunnys-aesthetic!

Plays after the first doodle comic, and after Falling Into Orbit, but before Asterisms

—

“Got your target?” 

Sighs sound different without any breath involved, you’re learning. 

You’ve been following Eclipse for a small distance already, waiting for him to say something, to no avail. It’s not that you’re quiet about it, so you don’t think it’s a matter of not having spotted you yet - and his reaction to your question proves it. 

Eclipse turns.

You grin. 

Half lidded golden eyes glow even brighter with the sun starting to set behind the urban horizon. Not a true sunset yet, but darkness is starting to settle between the high rises. The lighting is gorgeous, and unfortunately, it’s rubbing off on Eclipse. 

And that, in turn, reminds you of your impulsive compliment just the other day. Is it worse that you still mean it?

At least you don’t have to think about it for too long, thanks to his sparkling personality.

“Why are you following me? Can’t you take a hint?” 

Ah. That’s why he ignored you for half a block. 

You try not to let it get to you. It’s not the easiest task, waving off the rejection from the only person you somewhat know and who knows about you in this time, but you’ve had a bit too much practice putting on an act anyhow. You shrug, grin just barely strained.

“We have a saying for hints, a wave with a fencepost.” 

The tired expression morphs into a scowl, one you’re a bit more familiar with. Now he’s confused - and that’s enough to soothe your wounded ego. Enough to make your grin genuine again, and then worse. 

Eclipse’s glower evolves in parallel. 

“Are you going to elaborate or not.” 

Well, you can be gracious. 

“You could throw the whole fence at me and I’d duck to look at a ladybug.” 

It’s likely that the only reason you notice his hand twitch is because it’s just barely below your eye level. Tall bastard. The movement draws your gaze, but when nothing else happens, you tilt your head back up. 

He’s no longer looking at you, eyes still narrowed as he stares off into the distance. His voice is quieter, too. 

“A fence is about the only thing you could dodge.” 

There’s a deja vu when he shifts and just walks away, except this time you do have other options. You still follow him. 

“I answered your question, so? Did you catch them? Why target, anyway?” 

As much as you want to keep an eye on his expression, unfortunately you’re too uncoordinated by nature and tripping on the uneven sidewalk is too much of a risk if you aren’t looking. Still, you spare him another prying glance he probably doesn’t see before focusing downwards. 

“Curiosity killed the cat.” 

“And satisfaction brought him back. So?” 

“Him?”

Eclipse actually slows, his optics already on you when you look up to check. Not hostile, for once, but still confused. You shrug with a lighthearted smile. 

“Or her. Either’s good. But I’d like my satisfaction, please.” 

Just to emphasize, you make a grabbing motion with your hand, palm up. And trip over a loose tile in the pavement. At least you don’t fall - but the inelegant floundering isn’t quite helpful in your endeavor of figuring out Eclipse’s job. 

He’s no longer looking at you when you regain your balance. 

“You’re awfully sure there will be satisfaction involved.” 

“Your mysterious deflections are only making it worse for you, you know?” 

Again, a sigh. Either the low rumble of static is just part of an animatronic’s sigh, or he’s starting to get grumbly again. Given his disposition, your bet is on the latter. Thin ice, then. 

Watch you stomp on it to find out just how thin. Maybe that’s why they call it ice breakers. 

You skip a step, keeping even with him, and grin. Eclipse sends you a burning glare, as if in warning. But all too quickly he averts his eyes again, and then you have to speed up to keep pace. He’s not getting rid of you that easily. 

And your stubbornness wins out after another few steps, and another fleeting glare. 

“I’m a bounty hunter.” 

You hum.

“Oh right, that’s a thing.” 

This time, it’s Eclipse’s feet stuttering - but you don’t look up to see how your reply insulted him this time. It’s certainly less regulated nowadays than what you’re used to, and somehow, you can imagine him in that kind of field perfectly. Grumpy loner with ominous favors who also hunts whomever the finger of the law is pointed at. 

Maybe that explains the suggestion of a gun, too. 

Silence stretches for just a bit too long, so you end up glancing back up at his face despite the risk of tripping. He’s facing away from you, so that tells you nothing. Are you imagining the tension in his shoulders, or is he waiting for something? 

Looking up comes with other nice surprises too - there’s a few clouds starting to smother the orange of the sunset. Oh, you hope it’ll rain tonight. Falling asleep might be a little easier that way. Your sleep schedule has suffered enough. 

You focus back on the path in front of you, preventing any other tripping accidents. 

Given that you haven’t been sent away or glared at again, you decide to say something else. It might not be anything particularly smart, but that’s his problem. 

“I’m assuming it’s not like the movies. Worn Wanted posters, ‘Dead or Alive’, that you can dramatically rip from pin boards or something.” 

Eclipse looks back down to glare at you, just as the street lamps buzz on. More golden light all around, even more so with his pupils shrunken to pinpricks. 

“What movies are you talking about?” 

Bastard has no right looking this pretty. 

“Westerns, mostly.” 

That actually stops him in his tracks. In an attempt to remain aloof you continue walking, except - you have no idea where you’re going. You halt just a few steps later, turning back with the best innocent smile you can muster. 

You’re kind of glad his eyes are such an easy tell for his emotions - they’re narrow, but golden, and his pinprick pupils have once again expanded. He just looks tired, maybe annoyed. 

“It’s a miracle you even survived the week.” 

The snort escapes you before you can stop it. A miracle, after he so pointedly got involved? 

“Well, only thanks to you. Food and a roof over my head are some basic requirements that helped a lot.” 

You wink, just to keep the air light. It doesn’t do anything to stop Eclipse from scowling. 

“Stop that.” 

A widened grin, and a deepened scowl. Somehow, this seems to be your pattern. You shrug. 

“Just saying.” 

With another rumble Eclipse starts walking again, brushing past you without concern. You jump a step to get back into the motion, and then match his pace. Who even needs a workout regime if you have a grumpy animatronic to keep up with?

“I see you still haven’t learned to keep your mouth shut.” 

Despite the cutting words, you don’t feel like the tone quite matches that sharpness. Not friendly, mind you, but much less hostile than you’ve heard from him before. Laughter bubbles up in your voice, and you don’t care to smother it. 

“Bold of you to assume I ever will.”

The long suffering sigh you get in reply only makes you laugh harder. Though only for a moment, before a question is directed at you for a change. 

"How are you still dressed like that?" 

He gestures towards you, eyes on you as he waits. Though he doesn’t slow down at all.

You blink, and look down on your outfit. It’s certainly a choice to walk around in something that won’t be worn for another century, but then again… Your choices here are rather limited. And as far as you’re concerned, you’ll gladly wear familiar outfits rather than worry about buying new ones with money you don’t have. 

Eclipse only narrows his eyes at your shrug. 

"Would you believe me if I told you the stuff just shows up in my closet every morning?" 

Silence sure isn’t the answer you expected. You glance back up, head tilted, waiting for his judgement. After a moment of consideration he looks away. The noise he makes isn’t hostile enough for a snarl, but too grumbly to be a sigh. It is a concession, though. 

"Your anomalous existence affecting your surroundings should faze me more, but sure, why not." 

The defeat in his tone startles a laugh out of you, and you skip the step it costs you. 

"Yeah, same. I went inside, didn't go home. Not even Narnia." 

Ah, hm. Maybe you shouldn’t have said that. 

"Narnia?" 

Yeah, no, that is not a story you want to get into. You’re not even sure how similarly history will play out with animatronics around. Also not a topic you want to analyze further. So once again, you shrug.

"Wait a couple years, it'll make sense."

And if not, by then he’ll hopefully have forgotten about it. 

“I would hope you’re not just volunteering future information to other people.” 

This time the sharper tone is accompanied by a quick matching glare. Naturally, you wink. 

“Nah, don’t worry. You’re special.” 

The frustrated grumble is wordless, and you have to press your lips together to not laugh. But he does pick up pace again, and you hurry after him. 

Something wet hits you. 

You look up. 

The sky isn’t just night dark - it’s covered in heavy clouds, and just like that, the next fat raindrop hits your face. You blink. Another.

So you get your wish of a rainy night. Now if only you were in your bed, you’d be all set. Mild panic creeps up in your throat, and you run a few steps to catch up with Eclipse. 

“Uhh!”

Eclipse turns, frowning at your tone. But he does stop, which honestly? You didn’t really expect. So you take the plunge.

“Where are we?” 

“Where -”

His scowl deepens in record time as he looks around, and then his eyes are blazing even in the twilight granted by the nearby street lamp. Mostly the light illuminates the steady increase of rain hitting the ground.

“You followed me home. You followed me home?” 

Your first instinct is to smile again, though this time it’s a lot more wobbly than before. You didn’t think this through, at all. You didn’t even notice how far you were going, all because you were too focused on talking. 

Maybe you can find your way back, retrace your steps - but you’ve been following Eclipse for a while now, and even before that you weren’t exactly close to the boarding house. You’ve been wandering a lot these days, for lack of other activities, and now you’re looking at a good distance to walk. In the rain. At night. 

But maybe Eclipse knows a shortcut. It’s not like you have many options. 

“Uh. How far to the boarding house?” 

“Too far.” 

Quick way of shattering your hopes, then. You deflate.

In your periphery, Eclipse reaches out - but aborts the motion with a curl of his fingers. Just as you look he turns, instead waving over his shoulder. Yours are getting wetter by the second, and you see the matching darkness growing on his coat. 

“Follow me. You’re not dying without paying me back for that favor.” 

You’d hopefully just get drenched, but if that’s what he has to tell himself to help you’ll take it. Thinking about how much better he knows this city by night isn’t really helping your anxiety. You’ve been a duckling for this long, so there’s no reason to stop now. 

Somehow you just keep getting yourself into these objectively dangerous situations, huh?

For once, you stay silent as you follow Eclipse past the last block. There’s tension in the line of his shoulders and you’re pretty sure you’re about to owe him again. He doesn’t seem happy about it. You can’t blame him. This was avoidable, it shouldn’t have happened. Anxiety is churning your stomach.

Only when he takes a turn into a nearby apartment complex do you find the courage to speak up again. Your steps echo on the tiled floor, breaking the silence for you.

“You’re waterproof?” 

You can figure, given his lax reaction to the rain, but you’d feel better with the confirmation. Despite everything, animatronics are new to you, and you’re missing a lot of what would be considered common knowledge. 

Eclipse just glares, obviously not happy over having to state the obvious. 

“Do you think I’d be done in by a bit of rain?” 

Your shrug doesn’t feel half as cheeky as all the preceding ones. 

“No, but wanted to make sure.” 

Something in his expression shifts, so you duck your head. If you can’t see his annoyance, it can’t hurt you. 

Silence reigns. 

Eclipse turns on his heels, and continues down the hallway. You shuffle after him, chancing a glance back up at his back. 

Have his shoulders relaxed, or is that wishful thinking?

“Don’t you think I would have been more concerned about the rain if I wasn’t?” 

Some of the edge has left his voice, and unfortunately you immediately read into it. Your own shoulders drop with the relief as you follow him up the stairs. This is a worse workout than everything before. He’s so fast.

“I mean, yeah, but I prefer checking in with the expert.”

“Surprising enough that you’re admitting ignorance.” 

You can’t see his face, but his tone makes you picture an eye roll. Still annoyed, but the edge hasn’t returned. You crack a smile.

“I don’t know a lot of stuff. Would you like me to elaborate?” 

He steps away from the stairwell, and you notice just how high the ceilings are - but still only high enough to leave a few meager inches between his top most sunray and the stucco on the ceiling. 

Mostly, you’re just glad you only had to climb the stairs up one floor. He’s fast enough on even ground, where he doesn’t get to skip steps.

“Don’t.” 

With a grin you start listing things, eyes closed for posterity. 

“Physics, never had a good teacher. Social cues - no one tells you those rules, and I hate it. Taxes are nebulous too, even after I’ve started - ough.” 

You’re yanked back by your collar, and make an ungraceful sputtering sound. Shouldn’t have closed your eyes then - seems like you missed Eclipse stopping at his apartment door. But his hand lets go of your shirt as quickly as he’s grabbed you, and you’re left rubbing the spot where the fabric dug into your throat. 

Eclipse scowls, but there’s something new to it. His grin is wider than usual, just a bit. 

“When to shut up.” 

You test it, just a bit, and let your own smile grow. 

“I think that’s part of the social cues.”

His eyes narrow, but you don’t feel apprehensive. 

“The fences.” 

You nod sagely. 

“The fences.”

A huff of static, and he unlocks the door. A snort? You’re starting to get amusement without it being at your expense then, that’s progress. 

Stepping past the threshold makes your anxiety spike again though. With the room he got for you it was different - this is his space, and you’re only here because you didn’t pay enough attention. 

Well, also because Eclipse is nicer than he lets on. Or believes himself to be, maybe. You’re still convinced you wouldn’t have died walking back to the boarding house.

But it’s strange. Following him through the foyer, the coat and shoe racks are the only things indicating that anyone lives here. No decorations to the wall, no carpets on the bare floor, barely even any furniture in the hall. That’s a lot of wasted storage space.

The first thing actually indicating a personality for the place is in the living room. 

“A leather couch?”

There’s more furniture of course, dark wooden drawers and shelves, a desk covered in documents and a chair, and a high coffee table matching the couch. But somehow the obvious source of comfort is what stands out to you. 

“Easier to clean off.”

Comfort, huh?

Eclipse continues walking down the hallway stretching on beyond the room, but you halt with a frown. 

The dark leather on the large (Eclipse-sized) three seater looks well maintained even with the worn creases on one of the edge seats. Eclipse’s preferred spot, it seems. The furthest from the window, and with a good view of the entrance. A realization about as cheerful as his comment. 

You trace a deeper line on the armrest, bright where the leather broke.

“Ominous. Have they invented blacklight yet?" 

You hear rustling from an open door, and you don’t think he heard you. Warily you step away from the couch to follow. Probably best if he didn’t hear you, actually. 

Except he did, and his reply echoes from what you must now assume is the bathroom.

"Why?" 

The suspicion is evident, and you have no other option but to commit. Not that he sees the shrug, but it helps you remain lighthearted. He heard you all the way over there without issue, but still you raise your voice just slightly.

"I’m taking that as a yes. Even cleaned up, you'd still see a whole lot in blacklight. Urine, blood, platypuses."

The confusion echoes, too.

"Pla-” 

Eclipse ducks back out, stepping out of the bathroom with a scowl directed at you. 

“No. Don't do that here."

Shame, you almost got him with the platypuses. It makes not grinning very hard, and you fail much too quickly. His eyes only narrow further as he steps back into the living room, and then his hand is moving too fast for you to process. 

Fabric covers your head. You blink against the bright terry cloth, yellow from the light passing through it, then pull it away from your face. 

A towel - you aren’t even that wet. But what gets you more than the gesture is the sheer size of it. Nearly a blanket, really. 

“Something wrong?” 

The words are barely more than a growl, a storm just waiting to be unleashed. The question, not really a question - a dare. Seems like you look just a bit too taken aback. 

Honesty it is, then. Baffle him too much to be upset with you. You look back up to meet his glare head on, fingers still buried in the soft fabric, and blink. 

“I kind of expected red towels. White doesn’t match you.” 

Eclipse blinks, too, and for a breath his eyes are just wide and golden. Plan, success. But much too soon he averts his gaze, eyes narrowing as if on instinct. 

You want to see him relaxed more often. 

And where did that thought come from? Challenges usually aren’t your thing, and this guy is tougher than a rock with about as much emotional awareness.

Honestly, that might even be too generous an assessment. 

“Red can’t be bleached.” 

The response startles you out of your thoughts, and it takes you a moment to process. It clicks, just a bit belatedly - Eclipse has already brushed past you back into the hallway. 

“Oh.” 

You don’t leave the living room, but step closer to the threshold to the hall. Watch as he takes off the wet coat and hangs it up on the coat rack, nearly bunching up at the ground. 

Again you raise your voice.

“Thank you.” 

The glare hits harder from the dark hallway, but it doesn’t faze you. You’re getting desensitized.

“I told you to stop that.” 

You stick out your tongue, then cover your head again and towel your hair dry, just a bit. Plausible deniability in terms of disrespect, or something. Mostly hiding from retaliation, given that you’ll disappoint him yet again.

“I won’t stop saying thank you if you keep helping me, that’d be rude.” 

“Don’t test me, I’ll kick you out.” 

As expected, his tone is sharper than your knife collection. Though, to be fair, you got yours for the looks, and not for their functionality. 

“I don’t think you will.” 

You pull off the towel just a bit, holding on to it as you look up to where he’s scowling. But angry as he looks, he’s not making any move towards you, remaining more than an arm’s length away. One of his, too. 

It’s a gamble, daring him to go through with his threat - but if he wanted to get rid of you, he really wouldn’t need to threaten it. From the start he hasn’t tried particularly hard to make you someone else’s problem. Your police bluff couldn’t have been that convincing, unless he’s really worried about involving them, and just running for a block would have shaken you off easily. 

He’s not as uncaring as he wants you to think, and unfortunately for him, you won’t play along.

You blink, ending the staring contest, and his shoulders drop with a static huff.

“You’re a walking headache. Dry off, I’m not dealing with a sick you.” 

It’s hard not to smile, so you just hide it behind the towel and a ducked head. You’re still pretty sure you earn a glare for your quiet snort, even though you try to cover it up with a cough. 

Pulling down the towel you unfortunately see the next issue.

“Uhh? Eclipse?”

Where did he disappear to, anyway?

“What?” 

Your drawn out hum doesn’t seem to incite any confidence, because he stalks through an open door back into the hallway.

“What?” 

You grimace.

“So, uh, the bleach? You might need that. Usually the dye washes out without issue, but that’s with the cleaning stuff from a hundred years in the future, so…” 

The frown deepens as confusion starts to weigh on him, and he steps closer. You pull the towel away from your neck and hold it out. The red and purple dye spots are faint, more orange and pink respectively, but definitely visible, and you really should’ve thought about that before. It’s not like your hair was that wet either. 

Eclipse stares. 

You swallow. 

No reply. 

“I’m sorry -” 

Faster than a cobra his hand darts forward, and snatches the towel from your grasp. You fumble just a bit as he drags it away from you, holding on out of instinct before letting it pass through your hands. No rope burn for you today.

Without sparing you another glance, or even the chance to gauge his expression, he vanishes back into the bathroom. An insistent clank makes you jump, and then he reappears with a dark static brewing in his eyes like a storm. His pupils flicker ever so slightly, but you don’t get the time to really look. 

A new towel is flying your way, and you scramble to catch it out of the air before it hits the ground. 

You blink. 

“Don’t stain it.” 

When you look up, the door to what must be his bedroom slams shut. You think the doorframe vibrates, even. 

It makes no sense. The old towel was fine, and if he doesn’t want them stained, why give you a new one? You could go grab the other one, making sure this one won’t get dripped on, but after what felt like progress his reaction to the stains throws you off. Risking the dark eyes isn’t really on your agenda for this unorthodox sleepover. 

Wrapping the towel around your damp shoulders instead, you step backwards until you hit the leather of the couch. Kick off your shoes, and then curl up on the seat closer to the window. 

It’s going to be a long night. 

—

You don’t know how late it is when the door to Eclipse’s room opens quietly. Definitely late, long past your bedtime, but your mind is too restless to grant you any reprieve. 

Golden eyes find yours in the darkness, and the tall shape that is your reluctant host steps into the hallway. You turned off the lights earlier, feeling more comfortable in the darkness, so the only sources of light are his optics and the faint illumination from the moon and street lights reaching through the window. The light doesn’t reach him.

“You’re still up.” 

Huddled in your towel blanket, you shrug.

“Can’t sleep.” 

The rain outside has trickled away to nearly nothing, and you’ve spent the last few hours lost in thought as you watched the raindrops race down the glass of the window. 

Eclipse remains in the hallway, where the faint light from outside won’t reach. You still see his eyes narrow, bright as they are.

“I don’t have any bedding.” 

“It’s not that.” 

He shifts, but it’s too dark for that to tell you much. 

“Ah. I didn’t expect you to be that prudent. I wouldn’t trust me either.” 

You should have figured he’s being an idiot. The glare you send his way is probably the worst you’ve directed at him so far, and the glow of his optics disappears for a moment as he blinks. 

“I’m not you. I was trying to figure out what I did wrong with the towel, not waiting for you to come kill me while I sleep. What the hell am I supposed to do if you decide to do that, anyway?” 

There’s hardly anything you can do to stop him if he decides he’s had enough of you. Your only reassurance is his continued inaction despite all your pestering. Well, and the fact that you refuse to default to that kind of paranoia.

Still frowning he steps forward, just into the space where the moonlight dips into the hallway. Just that amount of light is enough to let you see the confusion evident on his face. 

“... The towel?” 

“You got angry.” 

You don’t like how quiet your voice is. But any louder and it would crack. 

So instead you just duck slightly, resting your chin on your knees. The perspective and your hair should hide most of your face. Maybe you pull the towel tighter around you, just a bit. It’s warm, offering just a bit of a shield. 

Eclipse takes half a step forward, though you hear it more than you see.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. My reaction had nothing to do with you.” 

That makes you look up. If he wasn’t mad at you for staining his towel, then why was he mad? 

“Then why?” 

Confusion furrows your brows as you right yourself. Eclipse dodges your gaze much too quickly. 

“I won’t answer that.” 

Given the reaction and now his tone, you’re starting to wonder if you even want to know. In any case you don’t feel like pushing him further on this, not tonight. You can let it go.

“Okay. But you’d tell me if I did something wrong?” 

That part is important - and actually earns you another static snort. This time the narrow eyes aren’t angry, more a squint. Amusement. Back on track. 

“Little star, have I hesitated to criticize you before?” 

The bluntness makes you laugh, just a bit. You quell it quickly, but the smile doesn’t leave. Relief floods through you, and you feel more at ease. 

This time when you rest your head on your knees you don’t look away from him. 

“Good point. Why are you still up? Don’t you have to, I don’t know, charge some time?” 

His shoulders rise, and that is an answer in and of itself. Right, he thought you’re “prudent” for not trusting him. Of course he’d manage to think of you as a threat. 

“Ah, right. I could come into your room and kill you. Somehow.” 

“Nothing personal. But I won’t trust you on principle.” 

Your sigh hopefully tells him just what you think about that. Still, you decide to let him off the hook. And besides, you’re already talking, neither of you planning to sleep, or otherwise rest, so maybe you can have a little fun. 

You extract a hand from your cozy cocoon to pat the couch. An invitation.

“Can’t blame you for that, I guess. Will you sit with me then? If neither of us is going to sleep.”

Eclipse frowns as he follows the motion with his eyes. Warily, he takes one step closer, into the dim lighting of the living room. The line of his shoulders relaxes just a bit, and then he closes the distance to the couch in resolute steps. 

He does sit down in his spot, and you can’t even take the space between you two personally. Not when he looks so out of place looking back at you. 

“And now?” 

You huff, smile crooked where it’s pressed against your knees. 

“I don’t know. It’s been a while since my last sleepover, and I don’t think you have a bottle to spin. We could play truth or dare.” 

For a moment, his pupils flick away from you. But just for a breath - and then he relaxes against the backrest, settling into it.

“You go first.” 

You perk up. 

“Wait, really?” 

One eye narrows, the other remains wider, and it gives the impression of a quirked eyebrow. At least, that’s how you choose to interpret it. The amusement in his tone speaks for it, too.

“A free pass to learn more about you and how you got here, and you don’t think I’d take you up on that?” 

Snorting actually hurts - you pull your head down on instinct, knocking your nose against your kneecaps. Enough of that, then. You readjust just a bit, leaning into the crook between armrest and backrest. It allows you to face him more easily too, and you don’t hide your grin. 

“I’ll pick truth, then.”

He doesn’t even hesitate.

“Why would you trust me? Follow me?” 

You don’t know which time he means - which honestly just makes his question all the more relevant. For now you’ll answer for both, can’t go wrong with that. 

“I didn’t really have a lot of options. And you haven’t made me regret it yet.” 

He frowns. 

“That’s reckless.” 

You shrug.

“Sure is. Truth or dare?”

Best to move the game along. You can see he still wants to argue, but there really isn’t more to it. He’s helped you whenever you needed it for as long as you’ve known him - sure, it hasn’t been many times, or for long, but a hundred percent is a hundred percent. Grumpy or not. 

There’s a moment of silence, and then, like pulling teeth, his choice. 

“... Dare.” 

Shoot, now you have to think. That’s the downside of these games, having to come up with questions and dares yourself. There’s not a whole lot you can ask him to do, given that this is his apartment and you don’t want to overstep. 

Unless… 

Your grin grows instinctively as the idea takes hold. Eclipse’s eyes narrow in suspicion, but you voice your dare before he gets to backtrack.

“Let me thank you, without being grumpy about it. Accept it.” 

Golden eyes blaze before narrowing back at you.

“Wha-” 

You squint, channeling your strongest little shit energy. 

“Backing out?” 

Even in the darkness you can see his expression twitch. It’s not what he expected, but pride forces him to let you go through with it. Pride, and the fact that he probably still has questions he wants to ask, and can’t end the game prematurely.

His tone does little to hide the strain, and you nearly laugh. 

“No. Go ahead.” 

Perfect. You straighten a little, as if that will help reflect that you mean it. Even with the dare, you don’t think he’ll actually believe you, but it’s the best you’ll get without being glared at. 

“Thank you, for letting me stay tonight. And for getting me a room. I would’ve been majorly screwed without you, and I appreciate you cashing in a more lucrative favor to get me settled.” 

The lemon face is back. You’re trying very, very hard not to laugh. 

“You usually say ‘You’re welcome’ to expressions of gratitude.” 

If his face looks like he’s bitten into a lemon, yours now looks like you’re trying to be unaffected by a sour candy. You’re pretty sure your eyes are tearing up from the strain of keeping the laughter down. 

“You’re welcome.” 

Words near dripping with disdain. You'll have to watch out for a puddle later, or you’ll slip.

You duck your head, hiding your face behind your knees again. Only this time you’re shaking with silent laughter. 

“You sound like I’m holding you at gunpoint.” 

Your voice warbles ever so slightly in amusement, and you’re not surprised when Eclipse cuts to the chase immediately.

“Truth or dare?” 

He has questions, and you’re not sure you want to invite retaliation. Easy choice.

“I’m scared of the dares you’d come up with. Truth.” 

Eclipse tilts his head, settling with a click. The suspicion isn’t new - in fact, it’s old enough to give you an inkling of what his question will be.

“What do you know about how you got here?” 

Bingo. Unfortunately, there’s no prize to win, and you just sigh. You’ll have to disappoint him. 

“Answer is absolutely nothing. One moment I’m back home, taking a little walk, I blink, I’m here and looking at a whole ass animatronic. I’ll give you a do over if you want.” 

There’s a yawn creeping up on you, but you don’t want the game to end. You stretch your arms over your legs with a hum, hoping the tension will cover up the tiredness, and then relax again. 

There’s a flicker to Eclipse’s expression that you can’t read, but then he sighs, too. 

“No, an answer is an answer, satisfying or not. Truth.” 

That’s barely better than dares, just on the other end of the spectrum. Dares are hard to come up with, whereas with truths… There are so many things you want to ask him, about this time and this world and about him and - 

You hum, trying to stall for time, and scrunch up your face deep in thought. Maybe you need to approach this practically. For now you’re living here, so perhaps it’s good to learn about some rules you simply know nothing about.

“What do I need to know about animatronics?” 

“That’s a broad question.” 

Fair point. But he doesn’t sound inherently against the question, so you decide to elaborate. Maybe that will help him answer.

“I’ve been fumbling for over a week now. I just want to avoid obvious mistakes, things I shouldn’t mention, things not to ask. Like if you’re waterproof.” 

For a moment he squints, amusement sparking in his eyes. But then he looks away, expression falling into something more thoughtful, and he hums. 

When he meets your eyes again, his expression is hard. No trace of amusement left.

“Don’t ask about assignments before the revolution, before we had rights. It’s been twenty years, but too many humans still believe it was better then. Do not imply we should submit to that again.” 

A revolution, huh? Of course things couldn’t be peaceful. It’s good to know about it, you figure, though you also can’t help but think that not knowing wouldn’t have been that much of an issue. It's not something you would have assumed blindly, and thus nothing you would have brought up. Maybe asking in and of itself was the faux pas you wanted to avoid.

Still, you want to go back to the lighthearted air you had going for you just before his answer, so you shrug.

“Well, that’s easy. ‘Don’t be a dick to people’, I can do that.” 

“‘People’?” 

That's a weird emphasis. Bad weird emphasis. 

You crack your eyes open again, with a bit more effort than it should take you. Then again, it’s late. Then again, you already abandoned your sleep schedule for tonight. 

Eclipse is frowning at you, and you have no idea why.

“Uh, duh.” 

“We’re not human. And you can just accept that?” 

You match his frown, if for different reasons. 

“Why are you arguing against your personhood after just telling me not to do that?” 

Silence and a deepening scowl are the only answer you get. You stare for a moment, but when it becomes clear he won’t elaborate, you sigh. Sounds like this runs deeper than you have the brain cells to spare tonight.

“I don’t know your history. I came here, and you helped me. That’s all I need to know you’re a good person.” 

“I’m really not.” 

There’s more gravel in his voice than in a good quarry. He’s still being difficult, and you’re a bit too tired to be gentle about your questioning.

You huff, barely dodging another sigh through spite alone.

“Do you want to be?” 

Squintier and squinter, and then he’s avoiding eye contact again. Of course. 

“It’s not your turn to ask.” 

You throw your head back with a groan. It’s frustrating, not getting a straight answer. But “an answer is an answer, satisfying or not”. You’ll take it, and just hope the rest of the game will be more fun.

“Ugh, fine. Truth.” 

Eclipse seems to be out for revenge now. His tone is still sharp, and you can’t say you’re a fan of his line of thinking.

“How are you so cheerful here? You lost all you know.” 

Stating the obvious there. Whether purposeful retaliation or not, you figure you can look past one unfortunate question too. 

You rest your head on your knee again, your cheek squishing almost uncomfortably. 

“Yeah, but I also escaped late stage capitalism trying to kill everyone’s future.”

There, that’ll do. Except a snappy reply won’t really bring back the fun of the game, and only makes both of you feel awkward. 

Maybe… maybe you do have a way to turn this conversation around. The smile comes automatically, small as it is.

“I do miss my sister though.” 

“You have a sister?” 

Surprise softens his tone. Seems like your little redirection worked even better than expected. You widen your grin then, thinking about how Eclipse would react to meeting her. 

“Yup. Menace. She’s younger, but taller. Honestly, if you can’t handle me, she’d wreck you. She has a knack for sniffing out insecurities, and pulls no punches.” 

You stretch, humming along. It does little to dampen your amusement, and you squint at Eclipse. His eyes are still narrow, but much more relaxed than before. Amused, maybe? He relaxes against the backrest again - you didn’t even notice him straightening. 

“... I see she learned from the best.” 

Your laughter is more a bark than anything else, and you slap your hand over your mouth quickly. Who knows how thin those walls are, and how many sane people are actually trying to get some sleep right now. 

With the volume control back in place you do allow yourself a chuckle though.

“Student surpassing the master, if anything. Your turn.”

His eyes wander, moving away from you, and then he’s staring out of the window. You glance back, too. The rain is starting up again, a gentle background noise. 

“Truth. Don’t make me regret it.” 

You untwist your spine to look back at Eclipse, finding yourself late to the party. His glare doesn’t feel hostile, but it does remind you that there was something else you’ve been eager to ask. And while you’re already on the topic… 

Time to figure out whom Eclipse doesn’t hate. You spare him a smile, aiming for a reassuring look, but the way his shoulders slump in resignation you don’t think you succeed. 

“No fun in you ending the game early. Who's 'not everyone'?” 

The quotation marks are more a suggestion from underneath the towel, but you don't care. You trust Eclipse understands - and he does, because he looks down. Almost melancholic. You don't know if you like it.

“... I have two brothers.” 

A blink. A small part of you is intrigued by the technicalities - family by choice, but how so? Without blood in the way, when really all you have is choice, how does a family find together? 

But even though it’s not about any revolution as far as you’re aware, this just screams insensitive question. So instead, you let excitement take over. 

“You have brothers?” 

As your grin grows, his frown deepens. 

“Why is that so sur- why are you looking at me like this.” 

The couch isn’t the bounciest, but soft enough to let you swing forward. You land on your hands, splayed on the leather of the unoccupied middle seat. Eclipse actually leans back, surprised by your sudden approach, or maybe put off by the mischief promised by your smile. 

“Younger or older? Shorter or taller?” 

At least he relaxes again, though not without his expression twisting into annoyance.

“... Your priorities are off, little star. And it’s not your turn.” 

“Consider it a follow up. I need to know for science!” 

You bounce once, insistently, and nearly laugh when you see it reach Eclipse. Scary scary bounty hunter, moved by your shenanigans. 

“... Science.” 

He says it just as the couch settles again. Too much fun. You bounce again. 

“Younger or -” 

“Little brothers.” 

“Ahw man.” 

You’ll keep the bouncing tucked away as an effective method of getting him to talk. Whether or not it’s just to keep you from talking is a secondary concern. For now, you groan in mock frustration, and push yourself back again. Your back hits the armrest, and you tuck the towel close again. 

You huff, and Eclipse tilts his head slightly as he squints at you.

“Why are you disappointed?” 

As you explain you wiggle a bit, shifting your legs into a position that doesn’t hurt your stiff knee. 

“I have this theory of younger siblings outgrowing their older siblings. Though I guess with you in the mix I’d seriously be concerned for your brothers’ heads.” 

For a second, you imagine it. Two more animatronics, even taller than Eclipse. Given that you know nothing about them so far, your imagination supplies you with two more Eclipses, somehow looking even grumpier as they flank the already grumpy Eclipse of your mind. 

The real Eclipse isn’t any more cheerful in his reaction.

“... Do I have to tell you that animatronics don’t grow?” 

Animatronics are not early two thousands robots, you forgot. 

“... I might have been thinking of a movie again.” 

At his groan you press your lips together tightly to avoid laughing. You’re pretty sure if he had a defined nose bridge he’d be pinching it. 

“You’re incorrigible. Truth or Dare?” 

You know what, you’re feeling daring. 

“Hit me with a dare.” 

Eclipse is much quicker than you in choosing dares, and you don’t like this stormy expression. 

“Show me your shoulder.” 

Your brows furrow on instinct. Your shoulder? Which one? Why? 

“Huh?” 

There’s no change to his expression, but he does elaborate. 

“The one I hurt.” 

Now you blink. That was over a week ago, and you haven’t even paid attention to the bruises. They’re gone, probably. You think. Moving around hasn’t hurt after the initial soreness wore off, and you don’t like the thought that he’s that hung up over an accident. 

“It was barely anything, really. The bruises all faded.” 

Still he won’t let up. 

“Show me.” 

No way out then. Though no one said you have to be happy about it. You peel yourself out of the towel blanket, and then push away the fabric from your shoulder. 

In the dark, you can’t see shit. Maybe the bruises are gone, or maybe they’re just too faint to see. Without thinking you raise your finger and test instead, poking around where you remember Eclipse’s fingers digging in. You don’t get far before a larger hand wraps around yours, immediately pulling you away from the exposed skin. 

You blink at Eclipse. His eyes are wide, flickering to something darker in the corners, and his hand twitches around yours. He snaps to the movement, as if unaware of his own actions, and then rips his hand away again. 

“Don’t do that.” 

He sounds like he’s hanging on by a thread, and you don’t think you want to know what happens when it snaps.

His sudden departure after learning he bruised you back at the boarding house. The strain in his voice then, and now. And, for a second, you think about the towel again. You don’t know how it relates to the bruises, but his eyes looked like this earlier, too. 

The dark static calms somewhat, though he glances back at your shoulder for a moment. There’s no better word for it - he slumps in his seat. 

“I’ve seen enough.” 

You spare him one more wary glance, then sigh. 

“I didn’t see anything, and the touch test was negative too. You can stop feeling guilty.” 

No reply. You get started on restoring your layers of comfort. As you pull up your sleeve your eyes fall on your hand again, and you think about how big Eclipse’s is in comparison. You knew, he even grabbed your head before, but just like then you can’t let it go.

On the one hand, you would have liked some more time to actually process what his hand feels like. On the other hand, you’re mad at yourself for thinking like that. 

Eclipse seems eager to move things along. His eyes may have brightened, but his voice still hasn’t. 

“Dare.” 

You hum. If you don’t know how to reassure him your best course of action is to ignore the weirdness entirely. Maybe one day you’ll figure out his deal with bruises. Maybe not. For now, not your circus and not your giant monkey. 

“Ah, hm. Give me a moment, I need to think.” 

There’s a brief pause, but then, slowly, almost hesitantly, Eclipse huffs. 

“If I wanted to, I’d take that as the dare.” 

So he’s fine with trying to keep things lighthearted. He doesn’t want to linger on whatever that was, either, and it strengthens your resolve. Said resolve may involve a lot of silliness, but he’ll have to deal. 

“Shush, or it’s going to be something stupid.” 

Just for posterity you scrunch up your face in thought, then tap your toweled finger against your chin. 

Never looking away from your antics, Eclipse relaxes further. He leans back against the couch, even going so far as to rest his arm on the backrest. For a second, you believe him. Except then you notice the way his fingers are digging into the leather, and his careful projection shatters. 

“Your last dare was stupid.” 

You do have to admit he’s trying though. Unfortunately for him, you just had an idea, and it’s entirely self-serving. Well, maybe it’ll distract him, too.

“I don’t want to hear that from you. Show me your hand.” 

A blink. 

“My hand?” 

“Yeah, like this.” 

You grin as you raise one hand from your cocoon, splaying the fingers in the air. Eclipse looks on, tilting his head as if he’ll understand you better from a different perspective. From the way his frown twitches you don’t think it’s helping. But he does mimic the motion, glaring first at you and then at his hand. Slowly, hesitantly, he holds out his hand in the space between you two. 

No time to lose. You scoot closer, and press your palm against his. He jerks back, but you only stretch further, following the motion. 

“Stay. You’re not grabbing, it’s fine.” 

He stills. 

A soft laugh escapes you, now that you have the time to look. His hands are proportional to his body, which is to say they’re ungodly huge. 

Not that you mind. 

“Oh, big. I mean, I knew, I saw, but the side by side comparison sure is something.” 

Eclipse tilts his hand, and you move with him. There’s a twitch that you ignore.

“You’re just tiny.” 

Again you scoot closer, and extract your other hand too. Again he starts, but then you’re already pulling his hand closer. He lets you. 

Absentmindedly, you prattle on.

“Look - okay, I can’t argue, I’m short even by human standards - wait! I think I’m actually pretty average in this day and age!” 

One hand you keep on his, just so he doesn’t get any ideas about the dare being over. With the other you trace the lines on his palm where the casing is broken up to allow for movement. You move towards his thumb, the indent of the lower joint and the upwards, brushing past the rougher shell of his fingertip. Worn down from all the grabbing he does, for who knows how long. 

You’re so lost in thought, you nearly miss his quiet retort.

“That doesn’t matter.” 

It takes you an embarrassing amount of time to remember just what you were talking about, but then you huff. 

“Because you’re big.” 

The moment is over, and Eclipse’s patience runs out. He pulls his hand back and leans away from you, out of reach. 

“Shut up.” 

Despite his glare he still doesn’t sound hostile. You stick your tongue out at him, then shuffle back against your cozy nook. 

“No, I’m choosing truth.”

The question comes much too quickly after another glance at his hand. 

“Why aren’t you scared?” 

You freeze. 

The anxiety you’ve managed to keep down rears its ugly head again, churning your stomach, and you pull the towel tighter around you. Duck your head, even if you can’t escape his gaze. 

Sometimes, silence is answer enough. He understands.

“You are.” 

Try as you might, you don’t think he buys the nonchalance of your shrug. Still, you have no other option but to continue the act. 

“Pretty much always, yup. You get used to doing things despite it.”

There’s a pause, the silence weighing heavy as you wait. Turns out you’re not off the hook yet. 

“You had a follow up question earlier.” 

Part of you wants to sigh. So you do, even as it turns into a yawn halfway through. Tiredness is starting to win out over the anxiety, so you look back up.

“Shoot.” 

There’s an expectant hum in the air. Not like the intentional ones, more like the soft sound from old TVs. Well, old for your time, not this. Eclipse weighing his words, perhaps. A click, and he speaks.

“How scared are you of me?” 

Ah. That probably shouldn’t surprise you as much as it does - from his perspective a valid concern, and of course something that would occupy his mind. After his very first question tonight, it just makes sense.

But he doesn’t understand what you’re scared of.

“Not as much as I probably should be. Not as much as you think I should be, anyway. Mostly just on principle - you’re bigger, stronger, and one of few people who even knows I’m here.” 

No one who would miss you, or bother looking for you. You were lucky to meet someone who isn’t interested in making you disappear, not even to make his own life easier. 

Someone who knows societal rejection first hand, too. 

Anxiety quells, and you breathe easier. You relax against the backrest of the couch, accepting that you’ll have to peel yourself off later.

“I’d probably be more scared if you were human, actually.” 

The tension you expelled is the tension Eclipse soaks up, it seems. His shoulders harden into a straight line, and his eyes narrow.

“That makes no sense.” 

Earlier you thought you’re getting desensitized against his glares. Right now you’re just way too drowsy to care. 

“Does it? I’m not really a human humans in power like. I’ve got things ‘wrong’ with me that don’t even have names yet.” 

You take in a breath, barely concealing yet another yawn. The quotation marks you mimic with your fingers are about as energetic as your tone, so you can’t be sure he even notices. 

For a moment, Eclipse just stares. But then he too sighs, and his shoulders drop again.

“I don’t doubt that. I’ll concede the point, I have no reason to antagonize you for who you are.” 

Even so, this isn’t the tone you want to end this conversation on. You smile, tired as you are. At least he can interpret your squint as amused, too. 

“Just for how much I’m annoying you.” 

And you got him. 

“So you admit you’re doing it on purpose.” 

There’s no fire behind his words, and you chuckle softly.

“Never said that. Plausible deniability is my friend.” 

His glare actually makes you laugh. It’s overly dramatic, and you’ve seen him be scary - this is so far from it. Maybe if you hadn’t been playing a silly little game for the better part of an hour you would be more inclined to be properly impressed, but now? Nope, no can do. 

You sink a little lower on the couch, and your cheek squeaks slightly against the leather. Ough.

“One last round for you? I have one more question.”

Your enunciation is slowly but surely saying goodbye. Lack of sleep is catching up on you. 

But for now, Eclipse indulges you.

"Truth."

"Why did you help me?" 

If he can wonder just why you aren’t appropriately terrified, you can wonder just why he cares. Coincidence is the only thing tying you together, and that doesn’t actually seem like a big enough incentive for him.

He sighs again, turning a bit where he sits. Drapes his arm over the backrest again - no more need for distance then. Or maybe it’s just more comfortable. He’s not even looking at you, rather past you, out of the window. The rain is still pittering away. 

"My reputation at the station is bad enough as is. Didn't want you running into either of my brothers telling them how I abandoned you."

What crumbs of energy you have left let you perk up at that implication.

“Your brothers are cops?” 

“Yes. Don’t call them that to their faces.” 

You snort. If you ever meet them you’ll have to remember, but for now you can’t help but abuse that newfound crumb of power.

“So that's how to get you to -” 

The hand you so thoroughly inspected before now covers your entire face, and you laugh against it. There’s not much to see - the bit of light passing by his palm is barely enough to make out his fingers. 

Though you didn’t get to sniff it before. If you were any more awake you might refrain, but right now you’re tired and his hand is right there. Given that you need to breathe, not smelling is harder than just giving into the impulse. Heavy and metallic, but mixed with something sweeter - some of it the leather, almost earthy, and some of it you don’t recognize. 

At least he doesn’t seem to notice what you’re doing.

“Shut up. Don't even try.” 

There’s something else you might try. Your impulse control is so dangerously low.

He’s not holding on tightly right now, barely even holding rather than just covering, but you’re not sure how well-advised it would be to translate your impulses into actions. 

… Did he even wash his hands earlier? 

Maybe you can distract yourself.

“Can you imagine though? ‘Hi everyone, I’m from the future, and also I met this grumpy animatronic who wouldn’t help me out. Name’s Eclipse, anyone know him?’. Makes me almost sad it was a bluff.”

“You were bluffing?” 

Can’t make bad decisions if the temptation is out of reach. Eclipse pulls his hand away, just so you can see his wide eyed glare in all its glory. 

You manage a satisfied grin despite your eyelids weighing all too heavy on your eyes. 

“Oh, thanks, my next idea was to lick it and I don’t think either of us want that.” 

For a moment he stares at his hand. You’re glad you’re looking, because you notice the near imperceptible shake of his head before he drops it again. Your laugh is barely more than a tired huff. 

And yet, despite all that interesting bonus information, he hasn’t actually answered you yet.

"That's not really it though. That bluff came way later. Why not just dip when I started screaming?" 

Again that half squint, leaving one optic wider. Sardonic, maybe. 

"A human in hysterics and the bounty hunter with a violent reputation. What do you think people would have assumed?"

That sobers you up, too. 

"Oh. I'm sorry." 

"Don't be. It's out of your control." 

He’s no longer looking at you. His back is against the couch, and he looks off into the room. Not at anything specific, you don’t think. Just staring off into space. Maybe pondering some what ifs, too. 

What if you hadn’t appeared in front of him. What if right now, he could be charging in peace, being owed by someone who can actually pay up, and who won’t antagonize him at every turn. 

You shrink in on yourself.

"Still, I've been causing trouble for you from the start."

Silence settles between you. It’s heavy, but your eyelids are heavier, and sleep might just win even against the fresh wave of guilt. 

The moment stretches, and then golden lights find you again in the darkness. 

"It's not all bad." 

For someone who doesn’t believe in friendship he’s doing a shit job of keeping you at a distance. How can you not read into that? 

"Yeah?" 

Amusement sparks, even as the lights dim as he squints.

"I've learned many interesting things already. Like platypuses being fluorescent under a Wood's lamp." 

A squeak, or a huff - you don’t know what your laugh resembles more. Eclipse is still squinting.

You stretch again, but there is no stopping this yawn. If you’re already standing by your sleepiness, you’ll make yourself comfortable too. First you unstick your cheek from the leather, then let yourself slide down. The couch is big enough for you to curl up in the corner and rest your head on the armrest, the towel between the leather and your skin. Avoid the bad stickiness. 

Eclipse watches you silently, and you lazily blink his way.

“Don’t scratch the couch.” 

“Hm?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Hrm.” 

Whatever he means, you’re not in the mood to ask. Words are escaping you at record speed. Instead you close your eyes, shuffling closer into the corner.

“That can’t be comfortable.” 

Just because he can’t try. You’d shoot him a squinty glare if you had any inclination of opening your eyes right now. 

“‘m small, ’s perfect.” 

It’s comfortable, despite it being leather. The towel is a good barrier against the stickiness, and a warm little cocoon. Not as heavy as you’d like, maybe, but you don’t think weighted blankets have been invented yet. 

At least you have the rain as background noise. 

“The boarding house isn’t too far away from here, if you’re walking in daylight. I’ll map it out for you when you’re awake again.” 

Eclipse’s voice startles you out of your daze, and you jolt. Still, your eyes remain closed, even as you huff. 

“Not asl’p.” 

There’s a low rumble of a laugh, and you smile against your cozy nest. He should laugh more often. Maybe you can tell him a few good jokes, see if he likes any. Not now though. Enunciation is too hard right now, whether you’re awake or not. You totally are.

“Keep telling yourself that.” 

You don’t have the awareness to argue. 

Tomorrow. You’ll tell him tomorrow.

[nightclimes]

Bloodstains, by bowblade

Fandom: Overwatch Relationships: Ouihaw (Ashe/Widowmaker) Rating: M Wordcount: 118,214 (27 chapters, complete) A gothic romance Junkenstein-verse fic featuring Countess Widowmaker, a vampire, and Warlock/Little Red Ashe, cursed to be a wolf. Featuring fairy tale curses, pining, falling in love and a defiance of the fate bestowed to you... and vampire bites, of course.

Preview of Chapter 1 and full list of tags/warnings below the read more. Read at AO3.

Thunder looms, and out on the lake through the floor to ceiling window lightning strikes. The room illuminates for but a single solitary moment, but it's enough.

A shock of white hair and flecked deep red on her clothes to match the lipstick on her mouth, and the white of her teeth as the human wolf grins up at her.

"Now that wasn't very nice of you."

Feminine. Werewolf. Bandit. Thief.

"Outlaw," the countess recognises. Another defender of the Door in it for the money, who had vanished into the darkness of the night the moment Adlersbrunn was saved – or to the depths of the dungeons and quite a few vaults, given the immediate spate of petty robbery in the days after, written off as inevitable after zomnics take the town prisoner.

Her doing, as it happens. Her doing still. The outlaw had asked her, once, if she'd run into any thieves, and she'd told her hounds had.

It makes sense now why that doesn't and didn't bother her.

Another crash. Boom, boom, boom, like shotgun pellets. The outlaw does a dignified miniature rolling wave with her good arm, only it's not so good, as she winces and cradles it back toward her body. Her shirt hangs limp across one shoulder, with the majority of it wrapped around her torso, covering her ribs. Even she's surprised by how many scars she has. Wrapped around every bone and healed over, a thorn patch of ivy or roses. Yes, the perfume's odour makes sense, now. She vaguely recollects the fondness with the ink of a vine around her forearm, about the one place that isn't scarred. Clearly, this isn't the first scrape the outlaw hasn't perished in and lived.

No matter how much she heals, the reminder never fades.

It's different to a vampire. Or maybe just the same. The wounds on her neck pulse, faintly, and the countess rolls her shoulder. Regardless of her scars or her underdressed state, that still doesn't explain what exactly she's doing in her chateau and her parlour other than getting blood all over the upholstery.

"Why are you here?"

"Because someone," she labours, clicking her tongue, "shot me."

"I shot the wolf that stalks the town," the countess says cooly, folding her arms as she stalks into the room but stays standing, and the outlaw is still quite at home despite her presence, and she has the gall to shrug. She wonders why she tore her shirt to bandage herself, and not the intact hood and cape, still up over her head. "You are not innocent in this."

"I'm not here to talk innocence," the outlaw sniffs, dismissing her with a flick of her fingers. "I'm here to patch myself up. And I know an opportunity when I see one. I wondered how you'd been keeping since the door incident. So. Whatever scheme you're running, I want in."

[raynavan]

for @blueisquitetired's fic Silver Bloodstains! spoilers for chapter 18

something about a heartbeat

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

Holiday Gift Fic Requests

Now that whumptober is over I can start thinking about gift fics! I had a lot of fun with them last year so if you ever wanted me to write something (or are excited for the next chapter of any of my WIPs and want me to prioritise it) then let me know so I can gift it to you this holiday season!

Send me an ask with what you would like me to write (or update!), and I will do my best! I'll put my WIPs and anything I just don't think is in my writing wheelhouse below the cut.

Published WIPs

thought i wanted love ('til you showed me what it was) - Jamie wakes up in A&E with no recollection to how he got there and his sober father by his side. (Currently chapter 1 out of ? posted)

can't be anyone else - What if Jamie was the one injured when Roy tackled him in the season 1 finale? (Currently 3 out of ? chapters posted)

marked me like a bloodstain - Jamie saves Roy from being hit by a car after the gala in s1 (Currently 2 out of ? chapters posted)

dear leslie - Leslie Higgins giving advice to people (2 chapters posted - planned chapters left include Keeley, Isaac and Beard)

old habits die screaming - Beard and Jamie bad dad's universe (Currently 3 out of 5 chapters posted)

damaged beyond repair - After Ted rejects him at the Crown & Anchor, Jamie runs into two men who are looking for a fight, Jamie more than happy to give it to them. (Currently 1 out of ? chapters posted)

false confidence - Jamie suffers a concussion during the Zava era and Ted takes a look at how he's been coaching since the superstar arrived (Currently 4 out of 5 or 6 chapters posted)

Unpublished WIPs

copenhagen - Jamie and Roy spend the night a la Amsterdam in Copenhagen. When Jamie gets on the bus the next morning with a black eye, no one believes it was an accident.

i worry i'll grow old - sequel/roy's pov from i worry I'll die young

post-series Jamie saves Roy from being hit by a car

Jamie and Dani become secret besties when he's sent back to Manchester and Jamie insists they hide it when he comes back so the team accepts him for him not because of Dani (might not finish it completely but can definitely prioritise the first chapter likely 3 or so chapters) (requested lol)

Things I'm Not Great at Writing

shipfics

anything related to CSA, it's an important subject one that i want to do justice and I'm unsure if I can

[shinraelectricpowercom]

writing bg3 fanfic really has me understanding that rich burlew “do i check the rules for a gag in OotS” flowchart like never before

[writersblockiskillingme]

Russian Roulette | The Salesman

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!reader

Summary: After doing everything in your power to find the salesman who got you and Gi-hun into all this mess, he unexpectedly shows up in your motel room.

Warning/s: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2!!, angst, unspoken feelings (until now), guns, playing Russian Roulette, threatening, mocking, blood, character death, cursing (maybe, idk), tears, talk about the games, tension, reader gives off femme fatale energy, also reader has longer hair to fit into a braid but if you don't just ignore it please, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: I just watched the first few episodes, and for a little while, I got out of the writers block. NO SPOILERS, PLEASE!

Prequel to this fic here!

Rain was pouring down like crazy, wind blowing around as I drove my black car with full speed as I tried to get to the Pink Motel that Gi-hun and I co-owned as fast as I possibly could after today's events. Gun that was placed on the seat next to me was jumping slightly as I drow down the road every time I hit a bump or such. My left hand gripped the steering wheel til my knuckles turned pure white as my right hand gripped the phone to the same extent.

"I found bloodstains there!" I practically shouted into my phone as I came to a stop, the images of blood seeping down the trash bags and the knife thrown on the ground never really leaving my mind. "Gi-hun is still looking, I'm sure they didn't get far from that alley."

"What do we do, miss?"

"Check all the CCTV and dashcam footage you can collect from the area and keep asking around." I continued to practically shout for him to hear me over the rain on the street, my braid swinging over on my left shoulder as I got out of the car, running towards the entrance to the Pink Motel.

"I'll join you soon." And with that, I ended the call, quickly putting my phone in the left pocket of my jacket.

I roughly pulled loose threads of hair that fell on my eyes as I quickly took out the key. However, I came to a sudden stop. Something wasn't right. I found myself freezing as I slowly moved my head to look around. That's when I noticed. The sign of the Pink Motel was lit up.

Someone is here, and they want me to know that.

I stood there in the rain for a little while before I decided to take a deep breath before entering. I walked up all the way to the fourth floor before entering, the light going on as I did. I walked into my bedroom as quietly as I could. But even before I could prepare myself for what I was about to see, just as I walked to the end of the first corner, I saw him.

After three years of endlessly, tirelessly trying to find him, he was here. Right in front of me. He was standing in front of my wall, a shining black gun in his hand, looking at the calendar on which I crossed the dates with red marker every single day for three years. Next to in was a map of the underground, every single route mapped out, drawn on, and my handwriting shone on it to.

"It's been a long time, Miss."

For a while, I said nothing. I was just standing there, soaking wet, the rain that I took with me inside dripping on the floor. I was staking in his appearance for a moment. He was just as tall as I remember, standing there in his suit. For a moment, it seemed like he didn't change one bit, like nothing changed from the moment that I fist saw him on the train station three years ago.

But it did.

His hair was longer, I won the games alongside Gi-hun, we weren't on the train station, but in my Motel room, he wasn't holding a briefcase, he was holding a gun and I didn't.

But his voice was the same, he was still as tall as I remember, I suppose his smile was the same, too. And maybe, just maybe, he was feeling the same feelings he did three years ago before I gained and lost it all.

I just sighed and moved towards the table I ate. There was a towel that I threw last night. I started to pat my hair, trying to dry it off as I looked around for some dry clothes.

"You should've gotten on that plane that day." He said, looking over at me as I paused.

"I changed my mind when I saw you there." I said before continuing to dry myself.

The moment of quiet continued as I put the towel away. He tapped the map with his gun before he started to speak again. I truly didn't know how to feel. After I wasted three years trying to find him, he just shows up at my motel room. Funny.

"It looks like you've been trying hard to find me, darling." I could just hear that ignorant smirk in his voice. Motherfucker.

"Don't let it get to your head." I told him slowly, my voice completely calm. "I just wanted to thank you." I said as I took off my wet jacket, throwing it in the corner.

"Thank me?" He asked as he sat down on one of the sofas by the table next to my bed. I turned to look at him slowly, a dry jacket in my hand. That's when I noticed blood on the collar of his suit and his face. Motherfucker.

"For inviting me to the game." I said as I approached him, his eyes on me as I sat down, opposite him. "I won and took a bloody fortune with me."

He kept quiet, listening to me, his dark eyes flickering all over my face as I spoke.

"So the decent thing of me to do would be to thank you for it."

"I'm just a messenger who delivers invitations." He smirked, but before he could say more, I continued, all off my anger resurfacing.

"And just who had you deliver those invitations, handsome?" I spoke, venom infecting my every word. "Let me meet him. I have something to say to him."

"Give me the message, and I'll pass it along." He continued, giving me a smile at the end. It appears that I was right. His smile is the same.

"Oh, dear." I mockingly pouted as I crossed my legs. "I'm afraid that it's not something I can discuss with an underling like you."

His smile quivered as he raised his eyebrow. Waiting on me to continue.

"You prey on people who are hanging by a thread and corner them at subway stations." I could feel myself slowly starting to shake from anger and despair. "Someone like you wouldn't be able to understand what I'm trying to say, of course."

For a while, there was silence yet again. We were just looking at each other. Our eyes never leaving each other's.

"You know what the funniest thing was?"

"What, miss?"

"For a moment, when I was hunting you down, I was just delusional enough to think that we could actually team up. You know? Take down the games and whoever was behind them. I liked you. And I liked to think that. But now I realize just how wrong I was." I whispered, turning away from him as I spoke. Yet I still felt his eyes on me. "And boy was I wrong. You will never change. You like the monstrous things that you are doing."

"How do you think I got to where I am now?"

"I don't fucking care." I spat at him as I turned to look at him again, his expression unreadable. "I don't care how you became their dog. I just want you to bring me your master."

He looked down, sighing as he cracked his neck, gun still in his hold. After a while he spoke again.

"I used to work in the games when I was younger. I removed and burned the bodies of countless people like you."

He was the pink guard once.

"'These things aren't human. They're just trash utterly useless in this world.' I kept telling myself that and worked hard for a few years." He spoke, suddenly smiling again. "Then they gave me a gun."

The triangle guard.

"It felt pretty good." He said as he lifted up his gun, examining it. "Like my existence was acknowledged for the first time in my life. I don't know which year it was, but one day, I was about to shoot a man who had lost a game. The guy seemed familiar. Guess who it was."

I kept quiet.

"My dad." He finally said. "My dad was suddenly standing in front of me. He was in tears, desperately begging me to spare his life."

He suddenly moved his hand, placing the gun in front of my forehead, but his suddenly, quick movement did not startle me one bit. I was used to it.

"I shot him right in the middle of his forehead, and realized, 'Ah. I'm cut out for this job.'"

He was looking straight at me, his dark eyes mad. I narrowed mine at him. Was I supposed to feel sorry for him? Maybe, but I didn't. Not only did he enjoy it, but he also has no idea how it was like for me. All the things Gi-hun and I went through. All of people we lost along the way... Ali... Sae-byeok... Sang-woo...

"Whether you shoot people in there or con them outside, it doesn't change anything." I said, slowly leaning over towards him. "You have always been nothing more than their dog."

He clicked his gun, putting his finger on the trigger, his expression darkening.

"Miss." He started, his hand shaking slightly as I kept completely still. "Do you think you're special because you won the game?"

I said nothing. My expectation still as I leaned forward just a bit more, pressing my forehead directly on his gun. His dark expression broke into one of shock.

"Someone like you could never know or understand how I made it out of there alive. And how it feels to play the games."

Suddenly, he pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. My expression barely changed, yet I could he on his face that my eyes old him every. Shock, disappointment and sadness.

He sighed before leaning over to me on the table that until now kept us at a distance. He was quiet for a while. I suppose he has always been that way.

"Let's play a game." He smiled at me.

I didn't say anything. He pulled out his phone and placed it on the table, letting a song play.

Time to say goodbye.

He leaned back against the seat as he lifted up his gun.

"I'm sure you've seen this in the movies." He started to explain, never breaking eye contact with me. "It's called Russian Roulette."

Motherfucker.

"Usually, you place one bullet in the gun, spin the cylinder, and pull the trigger." He said, clicking the gun in its place before pulling the trigger, explaining the game as he showed me what to do. "And before the next round, you spin the cylinder again. It rests the odds back to 1 in 6."

"I know." I mumbled and he smiled.

"But I'd like to make this game a little more serious." He smirked. "Because you're truly special, love."

"Cut to the chase." I glared at him and his stupid antics. He blinked at me and continued.

"We'll take turns pulling the trigger without spinning the cylinder again. The bullet will be fired within six attempts, and the game will be over." He paused. "What do you say?"

"Spin the gun." I frowned.

He smirked before gently placing the gun on the table. This could end badly on both sides, but for a moment, I found myself being selfish. Maybe, just maybe, if I lost this game after everything I went through, I could die and find peace with the people I lost. I could join them and leave with the feelings I have for him, that he possibly realized, unsaid. I could finally end it all. The night terrors, the time I spent searching for him, my cigarette addiction, mourning what I lost and what I couldn't have, yet at the same time not enjoying the money I got form the games. Who could enjoy that? Who could possibly enjoy living the life that I live.

He spinned the gun, and its tip pointed at me. Without a second thought, I took the gun and placed it by the side of my head. A few seconds later, not looking away from him, I pulled the trigger. Noting happened. That chamber was empty.

I put the gun on the table. I barely had time to move my hand before he took the gun, placed it by his head just like I did and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. He sighed in content as he placed the gun back on the table, smiling at me almost lovingly. I knew.

I took the gun and placed it by my head again, but before I could just pull the trigger he spoke up.

"I've always wondered how you made it out of there alive." He smiled before he laughed a little. "For, one thing, you were even terrible at ddakji."

I said nothing, glaring at him. I pulled the trigger. Nothing happened once again.

He looked at me, impressed by my luck so far. I looked him straight in the eyes as I threw the gun on the table. It slid over on the other side, right in front of me.

He took the gun after he took a moment to just look at me. Not breaking eye contact, he took the gun. Leaned over to me until he was basically touching me, pointing the gun at me. Then he did something that I did not expect at all. He put the gun in his mouth.

Motherfucker.

He pulled the trigger. I winced a little. Nothing again. He laughed at my expression as I tried my hardest to keep myself composed. He slowly took the gun out of his mouth before sitting back, putting the gun back on the table.

I took the gun and as I was about to place it by my head he spoke up again.

"What's the matter?" He asked me, raising his eyebrows. "Is your mind starting to race?"

I scoffed slightly.

Motherfucker.

"Now your odds of death are 1 in 2." He nodded. "That's pretty high indeed. I'm sure you're afraid, darling. Lots going through your mind."

I said nothing.

"Let me guess what you're thinking right now." Motherfucker. "'The gun is in my hand. Screw the rules. Pull the trigger once or twice, and I can blow his face off.' Isn't that right?"

I kept looking at him, glaring as I did. All while he spoke. "If you and Gi-hun want to meet the person you mentioned earlier, the key is in my pocket." At that I allowed my eyes to travel all over him. "You can simply shoot me with that gun and take it. But I'll have you admit one thing."

He took a moment to pause, my hand still holding the gun by my head. He leaned over once again.

"That you're a piece of trash, just like Gi-hun, just like everyone else that was in the games." He leaned over more closely, our lips practically touching as he spoke. "A piece of trash who got lucky and made it out of the dumpster."

He laughed as I pressed the gun against my head, our lips barely an inch away from each other's. This was it, I thought to myself. This round will determine if I live or die. I tightened the grip on the gun, my knuckles turning white again. I pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

He looked at me, then at the gun and then back at me. I started to chuckle lowly, like a maniac. Perhaps I was one. I watched his face closely as I pulled the gun away from my head. The grip on the gun still tight as I pointed it at his chin before slowly opening up my palm, waiting on him to take the final, real shot.

His hand touched mine. I felt him and myself freeze at the contact as he took the gun from my hand. I pulled my hand away as he looked at the gun.

"What's the matter?" I taunted him, my face mirroring the smirk that he always wears. "Is your mind starting to race?"

He said nothing as I spoke to him.

"That's right. Screw the rules. Now, with a single pull of the trigger, you could kill me." He looked pale at my words. "But... before you leave me forever this time. I'll have you admit two things."

He looked at me as I brought my hand at his cheek, wiping a little bit of blood on his face.

"You put a mask on your face and do whatever your master says. You run, bark, and wave your tail for them. You're nothing more than their dog." I told him before my voice became gentle.

He waited on me, his eyes soft.

"And regarding this." I said as I waved my hand slightly between the two of us. "You really are a dog. A dog that loves me. And... perhaps I am a fool, too. Because I love a dog that could've made it all work out for us but was too much of a coward to do so."

I leaned over to him, my hand landing under his chin, holding him.

"Admit it." I whispered as we looked each other in the eyes. "Admit that you love me, that you did ever since you gave me that fucking card."

For a moment, there was silence. His tortured eyes, looking at me. I knew. I always did. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, for a moment. This would be the last time that I spoke to him, that I could look into his eyes.

"I love you." He whispered.

All of a sudden, there was a loud sound followed by blood spraying my face as his body fell backward.

I stood up and walked over to him. I don't know how long I stood there, but after a while, I felt a tear sliding down my cheek. My hand touched my cheek as I whipped it away.

Motherfucker.

[angellic4l]

thank you’s - s.r

in which; sunshine!bau!reader is demeaned by an officer on a case and season2!spencer sticks up for her.

content: fem!reader, reader described as having ‘girly’ flair, sexism, mention of blood/bloodstain, mainly fluff, protective spencer, and i think that’s it but lmk.

a/n: i just rawdog it and write on tumblr as a draft so i have 0 clue how many words there are. also, thank you all so much for the love on my first fic, i adore you all. these are my babies now and i hope you love them.

Warm sunlight warms the skin on your back while you’re crouched down at the latest crime scene, examining a bloodstain on the concrete floor. Despite it being November, it’s still considerably warm in Texas, a big contrast to Virginia weather for sure.

Despite official policies about dress code and such, you’re still a fun person, so you like to add your own girly flair to the professional attire you sport almost every single day. It doesn’t harm anybody, it doesn’t break any rules, and it’s cute.

However, pair the cute flair you add to your clothes with your enthusiastic, optimistic, ‘happy go lucky’ personality, and the fact that you’re a woman, and it causes people to make their own assumptions - typically sexist ones.

After doing bloodstain analysis on the red splatter that coats part of the parking lot’s floor, you go to stand up from your crouching position. Mid motion, you spot a small note on the floor, tucked under the wheel of a car. Crime scene analysis requires everything and anything to be processed, and the unsub has yet to make contact with authorities, so you make the decision that it’s worth looking at before motioning for Spencer to come over after seeing him somewhat idle.

He begins to make his way over from the other end of the parking lot as you stay crouching, waiting for him to come over because you don’t have gloves on. What you don’t see after you turn back around is an officer, an average sized male with blonde hair who appears to be slightly older than you, approaching you at the very same time.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doin’, workin’ for the FBI? You sure yer pretty little brain can handle allathat, darlin’?” A man’s voice; a thick, Texan drawl, coated with a somewhat flirty tone, yet at the very same time, it’s seeping with disdain - ambivalence.

Unfortunately, you’re used to that tone of voice and can recognise it all too well. It’s not going to be the first time you hear it, and it certainly won’t be the last, no matter how progressive times are or how you express yourself.

Standing up, spinning on your heels, ready to give the - officer? that’s poor - a rehearsed response to ensure your own safety, yet keep a boundary, you see Spencer stood behind the average sized, blonde haired man that you don’t recognise. He’s giving the officer one of his looks, his face saying everything, as usual, despite the officer not being able to see it.

Spencer’s fully aware his face is saying everything without it coming out of his lips, he’s completely baffled at how someone could say something so demeaning to anybody, much less you. You’re probably the sweetest person he’s ever met, always so supportive and enthusiastic. He feels protective of you. He doesn’t even realise he does until the words are out.

“She’s perfectly capable of doing her job, if not more so than other male agents, not that it concerns you whatsoever. And I’m perfectly capable of reporting a sexist comment to your supervisor.”

Spencer’s tone is defensive, no, protective, and you can feel heat rushing to your cheeks. It’s the bare minimum - sticking up for someone to a discriminatory comment - and you know that. It’s more so that Spencer hates confrontation, but he’s doing it, and it’s for you. Thank God for the Texas weather masking your fluster as warmth.

With the threat of his supervisor being involved, the officer offers a mumbled apology before walking away, almost as if his ‘tail’ is tucked between his legs, like a scolded puppy. A soft laugh elicits from your lips at the sight. Once the sexist officer has gone, Spencer’s eyes find you, his expression changing to one of concern.

“Hey, you okay? That was demeaning,” the brunette offers, his hand coming to rub the back of his neck, a habit he has, typically more often around you.

“‘M okay. Used to it, unfortunately. Thank you, though, Spence. That was sweet; I know how much you hate confrontation,” you say, giving him a soft smile as you do.

It’s Spencer’s turn to blush now, you calling his actions sweet and that soft smile - god, that smile - flushing his cheeks a light pink while his hand still rubs at the back of his neck.

“Oh, you don’t need to thank me. Anyway, you called me over here. What did you find?”

With his question, you’re quickly reminded of why you did call him over, before the sexist comment and mini confrontation that’d ensued with the officer’s presence, but there’s something you want to do first.

“I don’t need to thank you, but I want to,” you reassure him before stepping forward, moving closer to him, leaning up on your tiptoes, turning your head to face Spencer’s cheek, and slowly placing a chaste kiss to his already pink cheek.

Spencer’s eyes widen before they close, realising what you’re doing and wanting to savour the feeling of your lips on his skin. Unfortunately for him, the brief contact is gone just as quickly as it had started. He opens his eyes again and moves his right hand from the back of his neck to touch his cheek, realising what he did in front of you, and acting as if he was wiping away your lip gloss stain.

“Oh, uh.. thanks. Anyway, the, uhm, you called me over to see…?”

Silently, secretly, he wills the feeling of your lips on his skin to never leave his memory, not even when he’s old and grey, and maybe, just maybe, he wishes that you’ll be by his side when he is.

[ervans]

Care for You (Mizu x F!reader)

warnings: mentions of blood, wounds, and violence, soft sex, fingering (r! receiving)

a/n: wow. it's been a minute since i've truly sat down and wrote something. i'm absolutely obsessed with BES and mizu, i haven't felt so passionate about something since TLOU. this is my adaptation of what seems to be the most cliche scenario in this fandom so far: reader finding an injured mizu. i'm a bit rusty when it comes to writing so any and all feedback is welcome and appreciated, follows and notes as well. i have more ideas for works surrounding mizu (including a brothel fic muahahaha) so keep your eyes peeled for my posts :))

The sound of your sandals shuffling against the ground and your heavy pants were the only noises that pierced the otherwise quiet night. The moon, stars, and faint glow of your home in the distance were your only source of light as you trekked up the hill where the soft orange hue was coming from. The walk up this specific hill usually caused you no trouble, having done it dozens of times; however, this time was a tad bit different. Why? The limp, unconscious body that was currently draped over your shoulder.

Earlier in the evening you had heard a commotion down at the lake below the hill your home rested on. It was normal for stragglers, crooks, and opium addicts to travel through this part of Japan and mixing those groups of people usually ended up in some sort of fight. You had paid no mind to the noise, continuing with your cleaning. It wasn’t until you realized you needed more water for your tea that you made your way down the hill. As you reached the shore and saw the mess in front of you your stomach lurched.

Four bodies laid lifeless in front of you on the sand. From what you could tell they all had various stab and slash wounds across their bodies. Fifteen feet away from the tattered bodies lay another smaller one clad in baggy black trousers and stockings, a dark blue haori, and white scarf around his neck with a brown straw hat, round glasses with an orange tinted lens, and a sword, the telltale sign of a samurai on the ground beside him.

 From where you stood you could see his chest still moving as he tried to shallowly breathe in oxygen from the air surrounding his struggling body. That brings you to where you are now, struggling up a damn hill trying to save this unknown samurai’s life. Was he responsible for the four bodies you had pushed into the lake? It didn’t matter to you; you weren’t one to judge in a world where it was kill or be killed.

You push the door to your house open and lay the injured stranger onto your mat near the fire. You start to boil water to disinfect whatever wounds he had and open a drawer to grab a needle and thread just in case stitches were needed. They very much were. You quickly realized the source of what seemed like never-ending blood on the top half of his body as you stripped the bloodstained clothing away. A gash about 4 inches long and deeper than you’d like it to be starting towards the base of his ribcage, skin around it starting to turn a yellowish color. It almost distracted you from the way the stranger was wearing chest wraps. Almost.

You frowned looking down at the shallow breathing of the samurai’s chest. Why would he need chest wraps? You thought, fingers brushing over the once white cloth now stained. Unless? You slowly started to undo the bindings, telling yourself you needed to anyways to properly clean the wound. As the cloth unraveled in your hands your small suspicion was confirmed. Two small breasts sat atop the chest of the slender samurai that laid before you, nipples hardening as they became exposed to the air. Your eyebrows raised, head tilting slightly to the side. A female samurai? How? Questions began to fill your mind as you started to clean the wound, gently washing it with the now hot water. It was unheard of for a woman to even touch a sword as it was said to make the blade impure. Where had this woman gotten her sword? Who did she get taught by? Clearly from the mess on the beach she knew her way around a fight.

You finished cleaning and stitching the larger wound and got to work on disinfecting the smaller cuts and scrapes on the upper half of her body. Once you were satisfied with your work, you began removing the woman’s trousers and stockings, revealing another deep gash running from the top of her knee down to her shin. Sighing you started the same process as her chest and prepared yourself for the unknown amount of time you would be caring for this mysterious female samurai.

════════════════════════════════════════════

It took three days for the samurai to fully regain her consciousness. In those days you had changed the dressings on her wounds, forced broth and water down her throat for some form of sustenance, and carefully studied her whenever you found the chance to. You noticed small things others would easily miss. The way her face seemed like it was always in a permanent frown, her subtly toned muscles from what had to be from years of training, how her calloused hands would twitch in her sleep, stress being the cause of it you had concluded after watching her for a good hour whilst you sipped on your tea, and how insanely handsome she was. Wait what? Handsome? That thought scared you so much that you had refused to watch her for the remainder of the evening besides checking her wounds thoroughly before you went to bed. But you couldn’t ignore those thoughts that plagued your head as your touch lingered for more time than it should’ve.

You were sat cross-legged waiting for your tea to steep when you heard a thud from behind you. Quickly turning around to find what the source of the noise was, you were met with the samurai staring back at you, blue eyes shining in the dimly lit space. And oh, were they blue. You had never seen or known something could be as piercingly blue as the eyes that met yours.

“Who are you? Where am I?” The samurai demanded in a gravelly voice that sent a shiver up your spine. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer right away, mouth slightly agape with shock at the stranger who had, just minutes ago, been passed out. “I asked you a question, now answer it.” She said sternly after a beat of silence between the two of you.

You blinked, raising an eyebrow and rising to your feet. “Well that’s no way to talk to someone who saved your life now is it?”

The woman, stern frown never leaving her features, quickly looked around the room taking in her surroundings. She then looked down at herself, usual blue haori missing and replaced with a softer red one. You hadn’t wanted to leave her bare in the middle of your home and opted to dress her in one of yours while you worked on scrubbing the stains out of hers.

You saw her tentatively try to move, and the flash of pain the appeared on her face for just a second didn’t go unnoticed by you. She pursed her lips and looked back up at you. “Thank you for stitching me up, but I would rather not stay a hostage here any longer. I have more important places to be.”

Your eyes widen and you scoff. “Hostage? Are you fucking serious? By all means you can leave, makes my life ten times easier if you do.” You were lying, you quite enjoyed caring for the handsome samurai, but you would never admit that to her. At least not now. “Good luck walking on that knee by the way, I’m sure it won’t be any trouble for you though.”

You crossed your arms and leaned against the wall as the blue-eyed woman looked you up and down once more before attempting to get up. After a few minutes she was standing, hand against the top of the fireplace to keep her from falling over. You could see her chest rising and falling quickly from the struggle of just standing. She looked back over at you, still leaning with your arms crossed. “Where are my belongings?”

“On the table to your right.” You responded, eyes never leaving hers. You watched her glance over to the table. It was about five feet away; it should’ve been no problem for her to walk over and grab her things. Should’ve. It took her almost ten minutes to reach the edge of the table, her injured leg making it difficult to have a full range of motion. She opted to shuffle inch by inch over to the edge. By the time she got there she was out of breath, looking down at her hands placed on the wood in front of her. You hadn’t moved at all, the only change being your expression shifting from annoyance to amusement as you watched the fit samurai struggle.

After a moment she let out a shaky breath. You saw her knuckles tighten as if she was having an internal battle with herself. “Can you help me back to the mat?” She asked so quietly you almost missed it. You pushed yourself off the wall and walked over to where she stood, taking notice in the way her legs were shaking from lack of use over the past three days. She refused to look at you as you placed her arm over your shoulders and helped guide her back to the mat on the floor. “Thank you.” She muttered.

You looked at her, worry spreading across your features. “Of course. I’m here for anything you need. Consider me your personal caretaker.” You joked. “Although, a good caretaker should know her patients name.” Your words hung in the air for a moment before she responded.

“Mizu.”

════════════════════════════════════════════

It had been three weeks since Mizu had introduced herself to you. She didn’t talk much about her personal life, which you respected, instead filling the silence between the two of you with your own stories from your childhood. In that time her leg wound had been healing considerably quick, mostly due to the bedrest you ordered her to stay on. The only time she was allowed to move her legs was when she needed to relieve herself or when you would do small stretches with her to keep her blood flow moving. After some time, she was able to get up and walk for short periods of time on her own. The only problem with her quick recovery in her leg was the fact that her chest wound had hardly any progress to it.

Since Mizu couldn’t walk for some time, she exerted all her energy to her upper half, much to your dismay. She would sit up on the mat doing stretches on her arms and shoulders, sometimes raising them so far up you were afraid a stitch was going to pop. It did.

Mizu had been practicing arm movements with her sword, stating that “If I want to achieve my goals, my skills must always be honed and sharp.” Bullshit you thought. She just wanted to aggravate you. How could you tell? The small smirk that would grace her lips whenever she went to pick up her sword, even after you told her it was dangerous, and she could hurt herself anymore. Alas, she was a stubborn woman and it’s how you ended up rushing inside from chopping wood after hearing a sharp yelp from inside your home.

She sat on her mat, one hand clutching the spot above her wound while the other reached for the needle and thread you always kept close by. Once you realized she was going to try to stitch herself back up you rushed over to snatch the needle from her hands and straddle her lap, careful of the wound on her knee. She looked startled for a moment before her whole face turned a deep shade of red once she realized the position you both were in. You had a faint blush as well as you plucked the thread from her hand as well.

“I’m not letting you stitch yourself. You’re going to make your injury worse.” You said looking down at her. She looked up at you with those damn blue eyes you could get lost in for ages, cheeks still red but an amused expression on her face.

“You don’t think I know how to stitch myself up?”

You laughed awkwardly. “Well, no. I just…you just…you just popped a stitch by doing something I told you not to do! How can I be sure you’ll do it correctly?!” Mizu laughed. A sound so beautiful you were sure it would play through your mind for months to come. “I guess you have a point. C’mon then doc, fix me up.” She smirked. You felt your face grow even hotter.

Still straddling her you pushed her robe off her shoulders revealing her chest wraps with blood from the reopened wound soaking through them. You gulped. To stitch her back up you’d have to remove her bindings. And this time she was awake. And would definitely take notice in the way your eyes would roam her chest. Sensing your hesitation, she smiled looking up at you. “What? It’s not like you haven’t seen them before, obviously you have, or I wouldn’t have stitches here.” She was teasing you, you realized. “Here I’ll make it easier for you.” Her hand reached around to begin to undo her wraps. You sat there dumbfounded as they fell to the floor and her breasts were exposed to you once again.

“You just gonna stare sweetheart or are you gonna patch me up?” Mizu’s teasing question broke you out of your trance as you swallowed thickly and got to work on restitching her wound. You felt her piercing gaze on you the entire time and did your best to try and ignore the warm feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Later that night after the excitement of the day you sat sipping on your tea while Mizu slept next to the fire. You couldn’t stop thinking about her. Those beautiful blue eyes, the way her lips turned up into a smirk whenever it seemed you were flustered, and the sound of her laugh plagued you. You hadn’t felt like this in a long time.

Suddenly Mizu woke with a gasp, shooting up from the mat. You turned to her startled as you took in her appearance. Eyes wide with fear, chest heaving up and down, and her hands gripping tightly onto her blanket. “Nightmare?” You asked softly as to not startle her even more than she was. She just nodded as she looked at you, eyes bright in the darkness.

You softly rose to your feet, padded over to where was sat up, and sat down next to her. Her eyes had never left your figure as you made your way to her. You looked down at the blanket, then back up to her asking a silent question.

Slowly she lifted the blanket up and laid back down, giving you room to scoot in next to her. You wrapped your arms around her and brought her closer to your chest in the most intimate position the both of you had ever been in. You had never slept as well as you did that night.

════════════════════════════════════════════

It had been four days since Mizu’s nightmare, and every night since then you two had slept together, arms wrapped around each other. The dynamic between you had changed drastically, lingering touches and glances to each other becoming a new normal.

Tonight was no different to the past few. You lay facing Mizu while her back was turned to the fire, tracing circles into her rough and calloused hands. The silence was comfortable, but you chose to break it in that moment.

“When do you think you’ll leave?” A flash of hurt ran across Mizu’s face.

“I can leave whenever you want me to, I think I’m healed enough by now. Would you like me to leave tomorrow?” Your heart clenched at the sadness in her voice. You didn’t want that at all.

“No,” you whispered. “I don’t want you to leave me. Ever.” Her eyes softened, moving closer to you she brushed her nose against yours.

“Then I won’t.”

Your lips met her soft ones in a searing kiss, one that knocked the air right out of your lungs. You let out at soft noise as she titled her head, running her tongue across your bottom lip to deepen the kiss and ask for permission to enter. You parted your mouth for her, tongues running against each other as she rolled on top of you, straddling your hips. Her fingers ran down your sides and under your top, tips of them brushing the underside of your breasts as you pushed your chest up into her, silently asking for more.

She pulled away from the kiss, a trail of spit the only thing keeping you connected, and smiled. “I’m going to need you to tell me you want more. Tell me you want it and I’ll stay.”

You moaned at her words. “Yes! Mizu please I want it, I need you.” She leaned down to kiss you once those words left your lips, fingers moving up to circle and pinch your hardened nipples. You let out a gasp into Mizu’s mouth at the sensation and she smiled into you, moving her head to trail kisses down your face to your neck, sucking a purple mark just below your ear.

You raised your arms over your head as she stripped you of your top, eyes lingering on your now bare breasts. “Beautiful.” Was all she said. You let out a whimper at her words. She kissed down your shoulders to your breasts and licked a long stripe up your nipple, the sensation causing you to moan and buck your hips up into hers. As she continued her assault on your breasts, her hand traveled lower down your stomach and slipped her hand into your trousers to run a finger through your slick folds.

You were a moaning, withering mess below her at this point. Between her mouth on your tits and her finger slowly brushing against your clit, you weren’t sure how much more you could take. “Please Mizu. I need you, please.” You begged, grinding your hips up into her hand hoping she got the message. She did. Slowly she pushed her middle finger into your wet heat, savoring the noise that left your lips as she did. Experimentally she curled her finger, finding that spongy spot at the front of your walls.

It wasn’t enough for you. “More, I need more.” You whimpered. Smiling against your breast, she pushed another finger in, thrusting at a quicker pace. You were close, she could tell by the way your pussy clenched around her digits. You just needed one last thing to push you over the edge. Removing her mouth from your nipple, she brought her forehead against yours admiring the way your mouth was slightly agape and the furrow between your brows.

“Open your eyes. You’re to look at me when you cum.”

At her words and her thumb suddenly circling your clit matching the pace at which she thrust, your eyes shot open meeting her icy blue ones, the last thread keeping you from falling snapping.

“‘m gonna cum Mizu, fuck m’ gonna fuckfuck-“ You were sent over the edge, cunt clenching and gushing around her fingers while your back arched off the mat, eyes never leaving hers as she guided and talked you through it.

As you caught your breath, chest heaving, she peppered soft kisses all over your face causing you to giggle breathlessly. She smiled down at you as you looked up at her still panting. “Give me a second, let me return the favor.” She leaned down capturing your lips once again as she removed her fingers from your core, wiping the slick on her pants and rolling to lay next to you. She pulled you into her chest and nuzzled her nose into your hair.

“You’ve taken care of me these last few weeks, let me take care of you. We have all the time in the world, I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

And Mizu always kept her promises.

[yandere-daydreams]

file #5: the lactation fic.

part of the FREAK SHIT MARCH evidence packet.

pairing: yandere!sukuna x reader (jjk).

length: 1.8k.

warnings: afab!reader, heian era sukuna, vaguely dubious consent, lactation (not the way you’d expect though), fem!dom, verbal degradation (m. receiving), breast milk, and mentions of death/cannibalism.

If you could say you’d learned anything about Sukuna, it would have to be that he was not the kind of man you could expect predictability from.

That was, if you could even call him a man at all. It would be more accurate to say that he was not the kind of monster you could expect predictability from, which made sense – monsters were rarely known for having a rational motivation for their senselessness. With Sukuna, though, it was less that you were forced to guess how violent he’d be and more whether he’d be violent with you at all. It was as common for him to demand that you spend the afternoon laying on a shady riverbank, feeding him honey and grapes, as it was for him to threaten to gut you like cattle should you make one more snide comment about the bloodstains his constantly wandering hands tend to leave on your clothes. His other servant, the inexpressive butcher who spoke to you rarely and reeked constantly of blood, claimed to be able to find a pattern to the chaos, but whatever knowledge they might’ve gleaned over their time with him, they’d never seen fit to share with you. You found your own ways of coping, though.

Like right now, for instance – as you hung limply over Sukuna’s shoulder, kept in place only by the hand pressing into the small of your back. Despite the way his arm bit into your stomach, a slight scowl that’d been playing on his lips when he snatched you away from what you’d been doing, you did your best to keep your mind empty, your thoughts limited to a blank ambiance. If there was as good of a chance that he was going to kill you and feast on your decaying flesh as there was that he simply needed someone to fix yet another tear in his favored yukata, you didn’t want to make it worse for yourself by panicking prematurely.

Still, you were vaguely aware of the passing scenery as he hauled you through grand, vacant halls and into the master’s chambers. Sukuna would find a place to dwell wherever he roamed, whether that meant sleeping in a damp cave or on a bed of woven cloud and quail feathers, but a part of you was undeniably (and guiltily) glad that he had a clear preference for the latter. Currently, you were biding your time until Sukuna’s next feeding spree in a palace that used to belong to a wealthy merchant; a merchant whose organs were, if memory served, currently being divided into portions and dried on a rack of—

You were pulled out of your thoughts as Sukuna dropped you onto a bed of down-stuffed pillows and silk sheets. Wordlessly, he fell beside you and, using his lower set of arms, hauled you onto his chest, forcing you to straddle his abdomen. With only a slight huff, a roll of your eyes, you settled into place – bracing your hands on his midriff. “My lord, I have other obligations to—”

“I am the only obligation you should be paying any mind to.” His tone was clipped, his voice gruff. Clearly, he was in one of his poorer moods, today. “Get on with it” he barked, making with a vague gesture to his upper chest. “I don’t have all day, brat.”

You spared a half-second to scan over him. He treated you like a tailor, among other things, but at the moment, his chest was bare, and this wasn’t exactly comparable to the countless times he’d dropped the tattered shreds of a kimono or yukata into your lap and told you to make something more or less wearable. “I… I’m afraid I don’t exactly know what I’m supposed to be doing, sir.”

He rolled his eyes, and you bit back the urge to return his irritation. “Y’know, just…” Another gesture to his chest, this one shortly followed by a disappointed, breathy noise. “Empty them out. It’s starting to get uncomfortable, again.”

Empty them…?

Again, you glanced down, your attention landing on the swell of his chest. He was always sickeningly bulky, prone to wearing his strength on the layers of muscle blanketing his biceps and thighs, but his chest did seem more swollen that it normally was, now that you thought to look, the usually hardened flesh visibly more plush, more tender. You shifted your weight, your fingertips digging into the swell of his right pec, and you felt something warm and wet trickle over the back of your hand and onto the velveteen cushions below you.

Sukuna let out an airy groan, and your mind went entirely blank.

Reflexively, you tried to pull away, but Sukuna had always been faster than you. His hand was wrapped around your wrist before you could so much as break contact, keeping your palm pressed into his pec (breast?). “Don’t act like such a baby. It’s a task even an idiot could manage.” With his hand draped over your own, he ground the heel of your palm into the plush of his pec, and this time, you weren’t lucky enough to look away in time – your eyes falling to his chest as a thin stream of a surprisingly white, surprisingly thick fluid dribbled out of his nipple in short, stilted bursts. Milk, your mind filled in, against your will. Except, it couldn’t be. Sukuna wasn’t human. Sukuna wasn’t supposed to be able to do that.

More out of curiosity than anything, you pressed your palm down again with just a little more force, a little less trepidation. The jet was stronger, this time, and Sukuna’s eyes closed, his lips soon drawn into a thin line only occasionally parting to let out a deep breath or raspy groan. His hand dropped away entirely as you fell into a steady kneading pattern – both of his upper arms soon crossed above his head, as he often did when he was lounging in a particularly entrancing patch of sunlight, while their lower counterparts remained on your waist. “Use both hands,” he grunted, and not bothering to suppress your scowl, you did. Soon enough, milk (because, as unsettling as it was, you just didn’t know what else to call it) frothed steadily, painting both sides of his chest with unorganized streaks of splotchy white – delicate ribbons spread over a canvas of ink and scars.

Despite yourself, you found yourself focusing on that. The word, almost jarringly quaint, repeated in the back of your mind; milk, milk, milk. Almost in a trance, you found yourself bowing your head, lowering yourself until your chest was slotted against his. After making sure his eyes were still closed, his attention still on the steady movement of your hands, you ran the flat of your tongue over his left nipple and—

Oh.

It was sweet.

His hand was on the back of your head in an instant, but you were already latched on – your lips sealed around his nipple, sucking harshly. There wasn’t a point trying to be gentle with Sukuna, not when you’d seen him take spears to heart without so much as a wayward flinch, but any passing temptation to veer towards delicacy was quickly forgotten as thick fingers knotted themselves in your hair, a reverberating moan tearing past his lips as you lapped and suckled, letting whatever you couldn’t swallow down flood out of the corner of your mouth. He could’ve pried you away, if he’d wanted to, could’ve torn off your head with little more than a flick of his wrist, but all he offered was a weak – pathetic – tug, a few garbled curses spat under his breath. “Brat,” he hissed, as you drank greedily. “Just— Just do your damn job and—”

“You’re so fucking loud,” you muttered, pulling back just far enough to be audible. “For once in your life, would it kill you to be quiet?”

You couldn’t see him, but you’d seen him baring his teeth often enough to recognize his tone. “Know your place, huma—”

You didn’t give him a chance to finish. Before you could think better of it, you braced yourself and bit down, burying your teeth into the tender meat of his chest. You tasted blood, heard Sukuna moan, and felt his body jolt underneath you, hips jutting against yours as something long and thick twitched against your ass. You pulled away as quickly as you could, already grinning. “Are you…?

“Be quiet.”

He was. You could feel his cock against your ass - already hard, already pulsing. Or, his cocks, rather, both standing stiff against his lower stomach despite the loose fabric of his robes. Carefully, you shifted back, straddling his thighs, as you slowly removed the thin sash sitting low on his waist, as you dragged the silken fabric aside in favor of wrapping your fist around the thicker of his paired cocks; your fingers barely grazing each other where they were supposed to overlap. “No wonder you’re always so temperamental,” you went on, speaking slowly, giving him every chance to cut you off, to throw you to the side, to tear you limb from limp. He only scowled, though, only pouted, clenching his eyes shut as thick beads of arousal blotted and dripped over the back of your hand. “To think the King of Curses would get this hard from some powerless human sucking on his leaking tits… You must be so pent up, you just don’t care who touches you, huh?”

His hold on your hips tightened, threatening to bruise. You barely noticed, already distracted by the slight tremble in his bottom lip, the pitchy whine that escaped his grit teeth as you shifted your weight onto your knees and aligned the blunt, flushed tip of his cock with your entrance. You took measured seconds to lower yourself onto him, ignoring the burning stretch in favor of focusing on the heat of it, the immediate and overwhelming fullness. You’d barely gotten the head of his cock inside of you when you stopped, going completely still. A second passed before Sukuna seemed to notice, another before one of his many eyes flickered open – immediately landing on you.

It was barely a whisper, a breath. He was mumbling, as much as you knew Sukuna would loathe you for accusing him of something so meek aloud. “Do your—” A bubbling groan, a hitched gasp as your pussy clenched around him. “Do your damn job, brat.”

Your attempts to bite back your wide, beaming smile were only half-successful. “It would be my pleasure, my lord.”

You rolled your hips as you lowered yourself back to his height, trapping his unsheathed cock between your body and his as your mouth found its way back to his nipple. It was barely another minute before he was swearing, groaning, bucking into you from below in short, stilted thrusts – like he was afraid of so much as coming close to slipping out. It was all you could do to stay concentrated on the task at-hand, to stop your mind from wandering from the taste on him on your tongue, the feeling of his cock throbbing inside your pussy. Still, you found the time to allow yourself a single, self-indulgent thought – one so ridiculous and so simpering that you couldn’t help but laugh against his skin.

Maybe, just maybe, there were sides of Sukuna that weren’t so difficult to predict, after all.  

[voxofthevoid]

Poll time, yet again ❎

This isn't what I'd call a problem per se, but I'm writing at a pace my posting cannot keep up with, even with me currently posting 5 fics a month—4 for JJK from a roster of 5 and 1 for MCU/Bleach. This'd be fine, but posting for MCU and Bleach long after leaving those fandoms has made it clear that I will significantly slow down on posting for those regardless of the size of my backlog. While I continue to love sharing those stories, the editing process becomes more of a chore than usual, and I just...sit on those. I'd like to avoid that as much as possible with JJK.

I'm still very firmly in the JJK sauce and haven't slowed down any, but I'd rather do this while I'm at the zenith of my inspiration, so these fics (which are the longest among my unposted JJK fics) can see the light of Ao3 while they and I are both hot, so to speak.

I'm upping my ongoing JJK roster from five to six, though whether the updates will increase to five a month or stay four a month remains to be seen. I can handle both based on monthly energy levels and have drawn up schedules for each, but I might run another poll for that to see what y'all can take. But that's for later.

For now, pick a fic ✨

Descriptions, titles, and choice WIP Wednesday links for the fics under the cut. I'll reblog the poll once a day or so till it's over.

Amnesiac Yuuji

the ghost in me was true (but you were haunted too): No-Shibuya AU where Gojou sends Yuuji out of the country after he eats all the fingers. Yuuji goes AWOL a year in and reappears 12 years later without any memories. Gojou doesn’t deal with that too well. Goyuu.

Shibuya Swap

(this is also part of the story) how the story changes: Just as the PR ensnares Gojou, canon!Yuuji switches places with his older self from an alternate dimension where he’s Gojou’s teacher. Goyuu.

Mundane Unclekuna

bloodstains on the collar means just don't ask: Mundane AU Yuuji’s sexual awakening is his big, mean uncle and then his high school teacher makes him realize he just has a specific type in men. Goyuu and Sukuita.

Surprise Rut Sex

taking the flesh is the only virtue: Yuuji goes into premature rut after the vs Mahito arc, and Nanami ends up “helping” before Gojou shows up to escalate matters. Goyuu and Nanaita.

[lavenoon]

Falling Into Orbit (~4.1K)

Bloodstain Fool by @naffeclipse, og detective au by sunnys-aesthetic

Menace4Menace first meeting - plays before the first comic. Also reminder/ disclaimer that this is not a Y/N, and pronouns used will be he/she

Next -> Conjunction -> Asterisms

-

“You’re going to draw attention, looking like that.” 

You look up at the animatronic towering in front of you. For some reason, the comment offends you. Could be the fact that so far any passerby walking past has only spared fleeting glances your way, before looking up at your new friend and scurrying off with fear in their eyes. 

In a way, you get it. Twice your height and cutting quite the imposing figure in his suit, Eclipse is no one to sneeze at. 

Your nose still tickles.

“Are you sure anyone is even going to see me standing next to you?” 

Got him. There’s a twitch to his expression as his fingers curl around nothing but air, before he abruptly rips them down to his side. Just as suddenly he turns, walking down the sidewalk. 

You have to take two steps for each one of his. The most annoying part of it all is keeping your grin down.

Eclipse glares down at you just as you round the block. His eyes only narrow further, so perhaps you’re not doing that good of a job, hiding your amusement. 

“You’re still here.” 

… Where else would you be? He started walking, so you followed. Did he expect you to just shrug it off, and let him leave? Or maybe it’s wishful thinking, him hoping you’d turn out to be an apparition only. Too bad you have to disappoint him. 

You blink, and tilt your head. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Again with the furling fingers. It’s not a really reassuring gesture, but mostly you wonder if this time has stress toys. Eclipse sure looks like he could use one. Some, actually - multiple spares, just in case. 

The thought only intensifies when one hand wraps around your head, keeping your head fixed to where he leans down into your vision. While you’d love to say you’re fully focused on that probably faked cheerful smile, 

That hand is big. 

“I have work to do. I won’t babysit you.” 

You pat the hand on your head, and it twitches. 

“Lucky for you, I’m not a baby. You said you’d help me.”

“Because you were freaking out and drawing attention. Speaking of which, you calmed down really fast.” 

The words come out in a snarl, and his grip tightens again. At this rate you’re going to get a headache. That won’t help you clear his suspicions, so you do your best to project nonchalance with your shrug.

“I got distracted. Not every day you meet a sentient animatronic after all.” 

You look around, as much as your limited range lets you, and immediately realize that he won’t be able to sign off on that. There’s three other animatronics out and about, and that’s just from a quick glance around the busy street. 

So you have to amend your statement.

“Well. I suppose that no longer applies.”

The pressure from your head lifts as Eclipse straightens, his optics covered by his fingers curled into claws. He tilts his face up, and just like that you can’t see his expression anymore. Quietly, he mumbles. 

“Why did I agree to this?” 

You’re not sure if you were supposed to hear that, but you decide to reply anyway. First with a hum, earning you another glare, and then you grin. Eclipse drops his hand again, not looking even an ounce happier. You’re not sure it would have made much of a difference - he’s quite a lot of ounces. 

So you end up smiling for two.

“Because I’d go around and tell everyone I met you first. Think the police would enjoy my crazy story?” 

For an animatronic with a fixed smile, he looks awfully close to having bitten into his first lemon ever. But then, for just a second, his expression shifts - too bad you can’t read it at all. His pupils flit to the side, then narrow back down at you, and he looks as hard as ever. Moment over, then.

“You are my punishment.” 

You blink, unimpressed.

“You’re awfully sure you deserve to be punished.” 

Ignoring your comment entirely, he turns to look past you. When he speaks up again, his tone radiates eternal suffering, and you bite your tongue before you comment on that, too. 

“I know where you can stay. There’s someone who owes me a favor.” 

He starts walking again, and you follow with a dreary sigh. 

“Oh no, I landed in a time of ominous favors.” 

Golden eyes with black pinpricks glare back at you for a moment, and then Eclipse accelerates. You have to actually hurry now to keep up. 

“Word of advice, if you want to last here for more than a day, learn to keep your mouth shut.” 

And so you do, if only because your sense of self preservation isn’t quite that eroded. Well, maybe also because jogging after him is enough of a workout, and you prefer not announcing that via embarrassing wheezing. Without lungs he sure has it easy. That, and legs as long as you are tall. You’re barely more than a tripping hazard for him. 

That’s an impulsive thought you better don't indulge. 

Instead you try to focus on everything around you, taking in all the sights without falling behind too much. Just once do you stop to stare at a very fancy couple and their just as fancy car, and get lost a little bit in the excitement they radiate. 

And maybe the old car. Do you know the brand? Could you sneak back to steal a glimpse at the emblem? It’s a rolling death trap, even more so than the cars you’re used to, but if it doesn’t look cool…

Eclipse walks on, and when you look, he just rounds a corner. He nearly left you behind before. You hate running, but needs must. Rushing after him you nearly run into him - seems he waited after all. 

He scowls, grumbling a quick “Hurry up,” and moves on. 

This time you don’t let yourself get distracted. Getting lost in a city out of your time, without money or ID or anything else to your name isn’t your idea of a good time. Your little threat earlier was little more than a bluff - involving the police isn’t an option you actually want to consider. 

When Eclipse takes a sharp turn into a building you stop for just a moment, looking it up and down. Just a little shop, from the looks of it, selling a variety of things. 

The bell rings when you enter, and both Eclipse and the human shopkeep turn to you. The man frowns, and you instinctively smile - it probably does little to help. 

“Hi!” 

He turns to Eclipse again, thick brows furrowed. 

“For her?” 

“Do you have a room or not?” 

Your smile turns into a small grimace at the hostility in Eclipse’s tone, but at least it’s not directed at you. 

It gets worse, because the shopkeep does not seem to have a sense of self preservation. 

“Since when did you fancy…” 

Apparently unsure how to describe all of you, he makes a vague circular gesture your way, and what little you can see of Eclipse’s expression does not look happy. Maybe you can defuse the situation just a bit.

“Oh, we’re just friends!” 

Again, four eyes are on you. Eclipse’s optics are dark with thin, golden halos staring at you in disbelief. The shopkeep glances from you to him before tensing, and promptly making his escape into the back.

“... I’ll go grab a key.” 

You spare him a glance before looking back to Eclipse, who is currently strangling the air where you presume he would wish your neck to be.

“Why would you say we’re friends?” 

It’s hushed, as much as you assume he can lower his voice. The result is more of a squeaky rubber chicken toned stage whisper, and your little smiley grimace twitches. 

“Would you have preferred whatever he was assuming?” 

Somehow you don’t think him “fancying” you is in any way the better alternative. You don’t really look like someone anyone in this day and age would fancy. 

… At least your skirt reaches past your knees.

Eclipse’s fingers curl further, clenching into fists.

“I’d prefer to not be associated with you at all! I don’t have friends!” 

That was not what you expected. You blink, scowling as well now. 

“... Weird flex but okay.” 

His voice shoots up half an octave in strain.

“What?” 

There’s a small sound from the counter, and a stiff shopkeep slides a keyring with a small plated keychain and two keys over the counter. The way he keeps avoiding both your gazes makes you think he caught a bit too much of that conversation. 

“Second floor, third room on the right. You still know the address?” 

The keyring disappears in Eclipse’s hand, and then his coat pocket. 

“Yes.” 

From his voice, you'd think the furious voice crack never happened. You definitely don't trust like that.

And then the storm is coming your way. You scramble out of the shop, the doorbell ringing again, and not a second too early. Eclipse ducks back out right behind you, dark eyes still trained on you. For a second you duck, not exactly in fear, but certainly preparation. For what, you don’t want to think about. 

But then Eclipse straightens, closing silicon lids over his eyes, and when he opens them they shine in gold again. He squints at you, and somehow that smile is much more terrifying than the one before.

“Let’s go.” 

For a few blocks, you follow in silence, but then your curiosity gets the better of you (and your self preservation). Though a bit of it, the part you would like to not acknowledge, also is the looming realization that following a pissed off animatronic you have known for a few hours to an unknown tertiary location is currently your safest bet moving forward. 

Can’t have you thinking about that. 

“Do you really have no friends?” 

You barely hear his reply over the noise of the street and his grumbling tone.

“What did I say about keeping your mouth shut?” 

Well, the energy is certainly unmistakable, so you don’t think you’re wrong with your guesstimated perception. Who even needs to process full sentences? Definitely not you, as proven by your entire life so far.

Even though he can’t see, you shrug.  

“That’s kinda sad, dude. Friends are cool - nifty. The bees’ knees even. The cat’s meow?” 

Your brain sifts through months of fluctuating interests to scrounge up the brief interest in dated vernacular, with limited results. You’re not even entirely sure you’re in the right decade with those.

Eclipse still doesn’t grace you with even a look.

“Stop talking. Somehow, understanding you is worse.” 

You press your lips together tightly, keeping down another snappy comment. Antagonizing him is not in your favor, and you need to remember that. 

He doesn’t make it easy though. 

You’re busy studying the old fashioned traffic lights when you notice the motion in your periphery. Eclipse looks away as soon as you look up, rather paying attention to the lights himself. At least it’s too busy for jaywalking, and even he has to wait. Spares you from having to run after him, but not the conversation he picks up again. 

“I have a reputation to uphold.” 

While you have no doubt that nothing about you is helping him with that, you also don’t know why he’s bringing it up. Are you supposed to apologize? Or - 

The friends. He’s talking about having no friends. A fact which is apparently part of his broody loner reputation. 

Your realization must show on your face, because Eclipse spares you another glance, and his expression flattens immediately. 

“Don’t say it.” 

You grimace, and look back to the lights. As soon as it turns red, you’ll have to hurry before the traffic rounding the corner gets its go. Pedestrians are car fodder still. 

“I mean, you’re thinking it, I’m thinking it, I really don’t have to.” 

Unfortunately, your shrug gets interrupted by Eclipse wrapping his hand across your shoulder, and dragging you across the street. You didn’t even notice the light turning red. The fumes of the last car are still whirling in the air, and you cough through that cloud of exhaust. Either he’s really impatient, or pissed off at your comment that you technically didn’t verbalize - maybe both. 

He lets go as soon as you reach the other side, fortunately all in one piece, and at worst only slightly bruised from the fingers digging into your flesh. You rub the spots where his grip was tightest for just a moment before you have to hurry after him again. 

At least you wait until you’re right behind him to pry a bit more. 

“Seriously though, is your reputation just ‘loner who hates everyone’? People can’t do everything on their own, that’s madness!” 

Eclipse stops abruptly, stepping back and startling you into a jump. His eyes are dark again, the golden rings within blazing. 

“Not everyone. And what I can’t do, I arrange through contracts and favors. Friends are nothing but a pretty lie, none of it means anything.” 

Well, good to know the guy really never had a friend. You’re curious about the emphasis - but right now you want to focus on a different point to make. 

“So you do rely on other people! You know, sometimes coworkers can become friends too.” 

The static crackle coming from above sounds awfully close to a choke, except then… He’s laughing. It’s not bad, honestly even kind of nice, except you have no clue what the joke is - which means it’s most likely you. 

At least his eyes are golden again. 

“No, absolutely not.”

You blink. Okay, maybe his coworkers suck, too. What do you know? But still, you huff - you’re not done yet. 

“You know the saying ‘the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb’?” 

The last of his lingering amusement seems to drain from him, a frown taking over. There’s a dark flash in his optics, just for a second, gone before you’d be concerned. Doesn’t mean his expression is in any way happy when he leans down just a bit. No, his grin is bitter, and you still have to crane your neck uncomfortably - you’re pretty sure he just wants to loom. 

You wonder if there’s a craft store nearby. He might strangle you for real, but it would be a hilarious practical joke.

“If you haven’t noticed, I don’t have blood to mingle.” 

Bonafide snarl, once again. You only cock an eyebrow.

“You do know how a metaphor works, right?”

As suddenly as he stopped before, Eclipse now straightens. Somehow, you’re glad you’re not shorter - he looks at you like you’re a particularly nasty bug, and you’re very squishy. Your still aching shoulder speaks for that. 

In your endless wisdom, you decide to stick out your tongue and blow a raspberry. 

“I’m just saying. You can choose a whole lot, and good friends are part of that.” 

“I choose none. Let’s get you settled, before I do something you will regret.” 

The remainder of the trek you stay silent. You’ve poked the bear enough for now - especially considering that this bear is very tall and very sharp, and currently begrudgingly helping you. 

Except the silence means you’re lost in thought, and you nearly run into him again once he stops. You catch yourself just in time, and look up at a nondescript apartment complex. At least, you think it’s an apartment complex. It looks decent enough, not fancy or otherwise flashy but clean. Besides, right now some privacy sounds heavenly. 

“This is the place?” 

Narrow eyes meet yours again, as if daring you to complain. 

“A boarding house. They’ll have meals, and you have your own room. You owe me for this.” 

You pause, then look back at the building, higher and higher up past the rows of windows. The different curtains and various trinkets you spot make it fun, somehow. 

“Currently, I can only pay with the power of friendship, which we established you don’t want. Can we go up and look at the room? My feet are killing me.” 

Wordlessly he unlocks the front door, leading you past a few curious gazes up into the staircase. You barely get to take in the hallway and adjacent communal rooms on the ground floor, but it’s fine, really. You’re a bit out-socialed anyway, and tomorrow is another day to leave bad impressions. Or, well - impressions ahead of the time. 

Second floor, the third door on the right. Nondescript just like the outside, and you don’t see any obvious scratches around the lock or frame when you duck to see past Eclipse’s hand. He scowls at you, then opens the door. 

The room is small, no question. But there’s a bed, a desk with drawers, a quaint little closet and a chair. Together with the promised meals and presumably bathrooms you’ll have to find, you’re all set. 

From the window ring the faint noises of afternoon traffic, and you step closer. Eclipse remains by the door, and a small part of you reminds you that he’s probably eager to leave. You just can’t help it, you have to look first. Staring through the glass, the same street you just walked past seems a lot smaller. Somehow, it makes reality sink in more. 

“You might want to look into getting a gun. You look like an easy target.” 

The words barely reach you through your daze. At first, you just hum - but then you realize just what he said, and grimace instead. Not looking away from the window, mind you, but it’s the thought that counts.

“I don’t like guns.” 

“Let me guess, you prefer knives?”

As much as it sounds like a question, his tone is too dry to actually mean it. You turn with a frown, tilting your head in a silent question. Just as silently, he gestures towards your arm, expression flat. Unnecessarily, you follow the motion, and blink at your tattoo. 

And just like that the dread pooling in your stomach disappears.

Unfortunately for Eclipse’s mockery in the making, you grin. 

“Oh, yeah! I collect them. Only ever carry one, though.” 

“You already carry a knife?” 

Eclipse perks up too, suddenly interested. You don’t think that mild enthusiasm will hold. It’s not really anything appropriate for self defense, not even as a bluff. Still, you dig around your pocket, and flip open the little knife before proudly holding it out towards him. His pupils shrink as he looks.

“Yup! Professor Stabby McStabstab.” 

You’ve never seen an animatronic this disappointed before. Sure, you’ve seen your first one today, but that doesn’t have to mean anything. Maybe disappointed isn’t the right word, either - maybe, he just looks defeated. 

“I need to stop having expectations. You shatter each and every one.” 

The cheeky wink you direct at him doesn’t seem to cheer him up in the slightest. 

“It’s my specialty.” 

Eclipse has tasted many a lemon today thanks to you, it seems. 

“I’m leaving.”

He turns where he stands, expression still sour, and moves to open the door. That gets you moving, too. 

“Wait, one sec!” 

The door stays open at a crack as you dash over to the desk, hoping there’s something to write there. You end up in luck. A rough pencil, hidden in a small ridge and looking slightly chewed on, and some yellowed paper stacked in the corner. 

Quickly, you note down a haphazard I.O.U., together with the date you’ve seen printed on some newspapers now. There’s little else to write - “thanks for making sure I don’t end up homeless after appearing out of thin air and screaming at you” seems a bit wordy - but you feel like he’ll appreciate having a physical favor to cash in. 

Skipping over to the door does mean you nearly trip over the chair, and have to steady both it and yourself for a moment. Your leg and side complain where you’ve hit them against the wood, and you wince slightly. You’ll have to get used to the small space. 

For now, you finish your step and wave the note in Eclipse’s direction. He takes it with a frown. Probably best to explain before he can somehow turn it into an offense. 

“Here, for that favor. I guess I can only offer friendship, and the professor, but if you do ever need either you know where to find me. You can also show this to your boss, maybe, if they decide to make a stink over you being late.” 

Because you did end up occupying a lot of his time today. You don’t know enough about his job, given that you never asked, to know how much trouble he got himself into just to stop you from spiraling. All your pestering aside, you don’t want him to regret that. 

Eclipse stares. His expression keeps shifting, and you end up somewhat concerned before he settles on a mild frown. The note he pockets carefully - you don’t hear the paper crinkle as he slides it into his coat.

“You’re strange.” 

Without a care for what could be considered an insult, you take the two steps to cross the room back over to the bed.

“Would be rather boring otherwise, no?” 

You drop onto the mattress, doing your best not to mind the squeaky springs - gift horses, and all that. With a grin his way you let yourself fall backwards. There’s not a lot of room to spread your arms, and the angle is off, but after a day of stress and running after a cactus on stilts it’s soft as a cloud. You even end up closing your eyes in a sigh. 

There’s an exasperated echo from the door.

“Right, I’ll get to work then.” 

The dismissal is obvious, and you crack open one eye just to wave at him. If the lazy twitch of your arm even counts as such. 

“Great, have fun! I’ll lick my wounds, or something.” 

Actually, maybe your eyelids are still too heavy. Just lying there sounds great for now. Everything else can wait until after a nap, maybe. 

You haven’t heard the door shut yet. 

“Your what?”

Eclipse is granted a spectacular view of your double chin, given that you’re entirely too lazy to actually sit up. He doesn’t seem to care. The pinprick pupils aren’t a good look for him. They startle you into honesty.

“Uh, yeah, I mean I’m pretty sure you bruised my shoulder.” 

That was… sure a way to go about it. A very, very blunt one, unfortunately. 

Whatever goes on in his head, you wonder if the journey his facial expression takes you on depicts it all. His eyes flash darkly twice before he chokes out a response. 

“I have to go now.”

And then he’s gone. The door shakes slightly at the force with which he closes it. 

Because you mentioned the bruises? In bad taste, you’ll admit, after all the help he offered you, but it’s not like you mind them. You’re pretty sure your run in with the chair left you just as bruised, not to mention all the mystery bruises you already have. The shoulder doesn’t even hurt anymore either. 

But it doesn’t feel like he was reacting to the bad manners. You don’t know him, really, so what was going on in that head of his?

Curious, you heave yourself back up, first on your lower arms, and then into a sitting position. Did he… 

You narrow your eyes, and investigate. Tip toeing for no reason other than feeling like the pink panther, you make your way over to the door. From afar, it could have been the light, or a strange texture to the handle - but brushing over it with your fingers makes the dents undeniable. Your shoulder got off easy, then. 

Something tells you that Eclipse wouldn’t take that as reassurance. 

Your hand lingers on the dented metal. 

On impulse, you turn and bound over to the window. It’s stuck, and you have to throw your whole weight into it, but it opens with a pop - and when you stick out your head to look down, golden eyes furrowed in confusion meet yours. 

A fun perspective, seeing him from above.

You grin. Cheerfully, and loudly, you call out to him, waving the “injured” arm for emphasis.

“Hey! Big, scary Eclipse! Thank you!” 

The startled expression morphs into something unpleasant again, but you don’t mind it at all. If he has no friends, you bet he’s not used to gratitude either. Even gratitude tinged with a tease. 

He draws a finger past his thin neck in a choppy motion before he stalks off, pointedly not looking up. That’s just fine by you. 

You’re pretty sure he can hear you laughing. 

[pseudowho]

Fright Night! Multi-Fic

The local fair has a Halloween fright night! Actors and zombies and terror, oh my! You drag your boyfriend to it...how does that go for you?

Gojo, Geto, Toji, Higuruma and Ino

18+, NSFW/suggestive in parts

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Gojo: Goes in smiling. Obnoxious laughter the whole way, and it only worsens when you're screaming at every single actor. As you cringe away from a dead-eyed bride, Gojo tickles your ribs until you squirm.

"Awww, baby, you scared? You're scared, right?"

As if in answer to his question, and received with heaps of cackles, you screech when some hideous creature with no teeth and bloodstained rags lunges at you from the dark.

"Satoru-- hold my hand--"

"--ahhh, yeah, okay...c'mere."

He pulls you in, and you scuttle to keep up with his long-legged stride. Still, the horrors continue and so does his mockery.

His teasing is relentless. Your fear is gradually replaced by indignant prickling anger. You take your chance, when it comes.

"You go in first," you beg Satoru, outside a horrifying old room full of dolls, "please, Satoru, check it out first before I go--"

He huffs as if actually bothered, but his shit-eating grin gives him away as he ambles inside. "Yeah, yeah, don't get your panties in a twi--"

You promptly shove the door closed with a bang! and yank a chair beneath the doorknob. You've heard rumours about this room; you are not disappointed. Satoru's voice sounds wary. The doorknob rattles just once, and you bite your lip with a smile.

"--hey...hey, babe, the...the dolls are moving."

Nervous laughter from the room. You try to hide the laughter in your voice.

"Oh yeah? You okay?"

"--OH, FU-- yeah, I'm fine. You know me, I'm the stronge--"

Satoru's voice cuts off with a profoundly girly screech, and the doorknob rattles violently while you twist with silent hilarity, tears streaming down your cheeks as you choke out.

"Ohhhh, nooo, Satoru, the door's stuck!"

More screeches, bangs and horrifying eerie noises, but you're too busy pressed forwards on your knees, laughing and laughing to the confused looks of passers-by.

"The dolls aren't dolls! THE DOLLS AREN'T DOLLS! BABE! LET ME OUT!"

A guy leans down to you, pointing at the door.

"Hey, uh...can we go in?"

You wipe tears of mirth from your eyes, bursting into laughter as you hear Satoru scream again.

"No...no, sorry buddy. This one's gonna be taken for a while, I think."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Geto: Total con-artist. Though he croons to you, cloudsoft and soothing through your horror, he's the puppet master. The horror engineer. The king of manipulation.

Every time another actor leaps out to set fear aflame in your veins, Suguru only pretends to be surprised; he isn't. He's already led you around this maze three times, anticipating the flow of the actors, and bleeding you for maximum terror.

He doesn't want to admit how his cock twitches against his thigh every time you break down into a whimpering mess; but, he can't deny that he's getting off on this.

"Shhhh, shhh shhh shhh," he soothes, one arm holding you to his side while his lips and nose ghost the shell of your ear, "shhh, baby, it's okay...it's all just pretend. I'm here. I've got you."

You look confused, your memory tangled by fear; "I...I could swear we've been this way already, Suguru--"

"Trust me. I know the way. These mazes are all samey. You're just getting mixed up, silly. Come on."

He has distracted you again, of course. He walks forwards, looking back to you with a smile. You frown, looking down at Suguru's two empty hands...and wondering whose hand you are holding.

The scream you scream, as Suguru seamlessly replaces himself with a white-eyed, rotten-fleshed actor, sends a dribble of pre-cum down his thigh.

He's just waiting until he can get you home, switch off all the lights, and continue the scare trail straight into bed.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Toji: Utterly unbothered, and smirks his way around. Some of the actors approach, take one look at him, and then turn tail to scare someone else. Anyone else.

But halfway round, he gets bored, and disappears. You're left, abandoned; alone. Toji wants to get in on the action.

You're surrounded by screams, and silence, and dry ice in the dark, and you turn on the spot, spinning, frantic, your heart pounding, your tongue dry, sweat dripping down the small of your back--

Until the sound of metal on metal. Something scraping along a wall. Footsteps heavier than your own heartbeat. And, the one small light source you have is blocked, as a monster of a man in a boiler suit, mask and axe fills the doorway.

The whimper that leaves you is audible; "...Toji?" As if you could be so lucky.

Silence. His heavy, laboured breathing. The footsteps begin towards you, slowly at first...before he runs.

You run, too, shrieking like a banshee, too loud for you to hear the occasional laugh beneath the monstrous man's roars. You find yourself chased down to a dead end, your back and palms flat against the wall, chest heaving, and he approaches slowly, watching you behind his mask.

The blade of the (very blunt) axe strokes down, down, down the centre line of your torso to stop just over your sex, and you whimper, mortified by the trickle of arousal that creeps through you.

"T-Toji--" You whisper to yourself, "T-Toji, where the fuck--please please please help me--oh my god ohmygod ohmygod--"

A shiver seems to go through the man, who leans down and whispers, in a voice so familiar that your jaw drops.

"Like bein' chased, huh? What about bein' caught? You like bein' caught?"

Judging by the way his boiler suit tents, Toji likes it, at least.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Higuruma: Has not got the mental wherewithal for this, today. Perhaps another day, but not today. And it infuriates him, when his colourful imagination and adrenaline threaten to overtake his inherent logic that this is all just make-believe.

"For fuck's sa-- pull yourself together, Hiromi," he groans as another horrifying creature-person scuttles past in a contortionist twist. You're carried on his back, squealing and kicking into him, while he huffs at you with beleaguered fondness.

Every time something makes him jump, a noise of bewildered shock bursts out, and he growls at himself, running his hand back through his hair and pressing his forehead against a nearby wall.

A few actors, however, take one look at him and treat him as part of the furniture. Hiromi frowns.

"Some of them think I look scared enough, apparently."

You mumbled into his neck. "Scary enough, I think you mean. Look--"

You gently turn his face to a flaking full length mirror. Hiromi drinks himself in; still in a dishevelled suit and tie, sweatstains, coffee drip on his white shirt, and dark circles that surely have to be make-up.

Suddenly, it clicks.

"Ahhh," Hiromi breathes putting you down to your screeching indignation; he doesn't notice as you press yourself to the wall, instead rubbing his face and clothes on a discarded 'bloody' rag.

By the time he's finished, stepping slowly over to you, chin tilted down and looking down at you with beetle-black eyes, you feel a shiver running through you. He's...frightening. Clearly some awful spectral businessman, covered in blood and dirt and horror.

"You...wow. Yeah, Hiromi, you look...great."

Hiromi shrugs you onto his back with a satisfied little chuckle, and the rest of your scare trail is relatively unhindered. Passers-by skirt round him with a wary gaze, and the sinister little smile on his face only adds to the effect.

You stroke one finger down his chest, sultry and whispering.

"Hey, Hiro...stay like this, later, for...activities."

"You are utterly twisted, my love. I absolutely can."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Ino: Just as scared as you. Absolute chocolate teapot. You'd have done better taking a puppy with you, probably, because the actors approach Ino thinking he can take it, and he absolutely can't.

If Takuma could have jumped into your arms, a la Scooby Doo, he would have. Alas, he simply pulls his balaclava down in groaning terror. When other visitors then scream at him, too, thinking he's part of the crew, he raises his balaclava back up with a suppressed sob.

"Baby-- I can't take it-- I'm too weak-- my heart--"

"Takuma, I--" You shriek, too, when some ghastly woman in a bloodstained nightdress appears. She runs for you both, and you and Takuma sprint away, hand-in-hand, half-laughing, and half-crying.

By the time you round a corner, slamming the door to trap yourselves in a dark room, you and Ino hold each other, panting in the gloom. You feel a familiar hard press against your belly, and look up at Takuma with utter disbelief. He blushes, his lower lip drawing up and looking aside with a grumble.

"--are you excited, Takuma--"

"--aww, shit, babe, you know he don't make any sense--"

His words cut off with a strangled moan as you grip him through his pants, and, biting your lip, lower to your knees. Takuma's jaw drops, his cock twitching up as it's released. You whisper up at him in the dark.

"...emotional support blow-job?"

"F-fuck yeah, emotional support blow-job, I can be your hero after that--"

A few people come to investigate the ghostly little moans coming from your room, but Ino blocks the door with one trembling, jittering foot until the moans crescendo.

[raynavan]

Tw horror, plese read the tags carfully

[myownwholewildworld]

faber est suae quisque fortunae (a "per aspera ad astra" drabble)

main masterlist | series masterlist | read on ao3 pairing: marcus acacius x emperor's daughter!reader. summary: marcus would die for you. literally. a/n: this is a drabble from a whole story i didn't think i'd write into a fic but maybe i should?? idk c': comments, likes and reblogs are really appreciated! <3 warnings: kissing, an unhealthy dose of angst. that's it really. w/c: 579 (a baby)

“You shouldn’t be here, Carissima (dearest),” Marcus’ coarse voice was just but an inaudible whisper, his dry, chipped lips moving against yours.

His warm, wounded hands cradled your face, his thumbs swiping the salty tears falling from your tired, reddened eyes. A sob tore through your throat, unable to control the fountain of mixed feelings boiling inside you, giving way to desperation.

You were certain you were about to lose him. The man who had stood by your side through thick and thin in the last few months; the only shoulder you had allowed yourself to cry on. The rock who had kept you afloat since the death of your husband, no matter how treacherous the ocean of your emotions was. Marcus had been the only true constant for the past year of your life; the only person you could rely on and bring you comfort. The only one you would trust.

And because of that, because of his loyalty and devotion to you, he was going to die a traitor. Long forgotten were his sacrifices for the Roman Empire — his whole life committed to serving Rome, his own son slaughtered to quench the thirst of Rome. None of it had mattered.

Your father, Emperor Traianus, would have his head before he could have your hand. In your father’s eyes, Marcus had betrayed his trust, having been accused of treason. Traianus had even ventured to say Marcus had killed your late husband so he could have you. Nonsense, for you knew the truth.

You nuzzled your cheek against the palm of his calloused hand and kissed the rough skin, hugging him tighter. Only leaned back slightly to study his handsome, beaten face. A split eyebrow, a bloodstain on the white of his left eye, a broken bottom lip — your fingertips traced the map of his skin, guilt engulfing you.

“I’m so sorry, Marcus. Had I known this was how it all would unfold—” your throat clamped, your lungs exhaling all air within them in a painful wail.

“I would have done nothing different, my lady. Nothing,” he emphasized, his fingers cupping your chin to tilt your head up. “I made my choice and made my peace with it too. None of this is your fault.”

Tears sprung again to your eyes as Marcus leaned forward to press a heartfelt kiss to your forehead, his soothing touch lingering for a few seconds before he kissed the tip of your nose, then your cheeks — leaving a love trail on your skin down to your trembling lips. His mouth ghosted over yours before he pecked your bottom lip asking for permission.

Sinking your fingers in the nape of his neck, you kissed him as if your life depended on it — perhaps because it did. You sought his tongue, his sweet taste soon flooding your senses. He tasted of longing, of love, of missed opportunities, of goodbye.

But not of regret. Never of regret.

“Tomorrow I’ll die, however I won’t be giving my life for Rome but for you. There’s no better death than that. Rome has taken enough from me, won’t take my last dying breath too,” Marcus muttered, his lips pressed against your ear. “My last breath is only yours.”

Bowing your head down, you buried your tear-ridden face in the filthy tunic covering his chest.

How badly you wished it wasn’t true. But it would be, because you both had been the artisans of your own fortune.