#no empathy closer b

[cluster-b-culture-is]

cluster b with no/low affective empathy culture is being demonized and dehumanized to hell and back. i ache to be seen as human but at this point I can't see myself as human either

.

[pendarling]

25 ɦσƭ ƭɦเɳɠร σɳℓყ ɦσƭ ૮ɦα૨α૮ƭε૨ร ∂σ

[Title Reads: 25 Hot Things Only Hot Characters Do]

Rolling up their sleeves

Pulling clothing off of themselves or other characters with a single hand

Using nicknames

Protecting other characters from harm even when they know they'll get hurt

Holding Character A's chin, thigh, or back

Never sharing personal secrets with others

Lip biting

Staying behind Character A with their arms wrapped around their waist or turning them around

Kissing them indirectly with a piece of paper/hand/mask in between their lips

Softly rubbing a spot on Character A's body that hurts

Tucking, brushing, braiding, and patting Character A's hair

Catching other characters giving Character A a dirty glare and then Character B does it back at them

Being above Character A as the other is kneeling before them

Remembering key details about other characters like what they like, how they interact, their reactions...

Feeding Character A and then eating from the same spoon or drinking from the same cup at the exact location where A's lips were

Reminding their friends they care about them

Becoming what they need to be in certain circumstances

Putting Character A's head onto their lap

Catching A when they fall

Winking, nudging with an elbow, playful surprises

Telling the truth even when it hurts

Teasing Character A for almost everything and then pushing them against the wall with their lips pressed together

Eagerly waiting for Character A to appear

Grabbing Character A's chair and pulling them closer

Not just being a cold-hearted person and developing empathy for others

~~~

MASTERLIST

[fxtalitygod]

VIII. ~Survival~

Summary: You were determined to survive longer than anyone, even if you were set to marry him.

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, gore, graphic imagery, theme/depictions of horror, swearing/language, suggestive, pet names (Little Flower used 5-6x) implied harsh parenting {on Sukuna's end), mentions of adult murder, implications of impregnating, implied Stockholm Syndrome, images/depictions of dead bodies (both human and animal), child death/murder, character death(s), slight misogynistic themes (if you squint), NOT PROOFREAD YET (sorry ;-;)

Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: For starters, I want to clarify that I am choosing to purposely not mention the names of the twins. Although this makes it difficult on my end, I wanted you, the reader, to decide on the names of your choosing while reading.

P.S. This is the longest chapter I have written. Sorry it took so long but I hope it proves well and worth the wait. (╥﹏╥)

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules• • Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt. III • Pt. IV • Pt. V • Pt. VI • Pt.VII • Pt. VIII • Pt. IX

You could see the fire, smell the blood, and hear their screams as they begged for mercy. They cried out for their children and loved ones whose bodies were now burning in the roaring flames, reduced to cinders and ashes. Those who threatened to charge were killed before they could make contact, their body contorting in ways the human form was incapable of, causing cries of pure agony as they were left to bleed out in their mangled state– they were left to suffer in their pain as the life slowly drained out of them. If a suffering soul was fortunate, the fire would catch them aflame and kill them faster, or debris would land in a fatal spot or crush them whole to end their misery.

Viewing the demolished structures and flaming bodies, both dead and alive, was a petrifying view– yet you felt nothing. Your breath was methodical, your expression blank, your body unmoving. Pity and remorse were thrown out the window– fear and anguish had long vanished; however, anger and resentment lingered like a tiny flickering flame that continued to grow with each crumble and cry that could be heard.

Although your exterior appearance seemed calm and collected, your heartbeat said otherwise as it accelerated, pounding against your chest so hard you could eventually drown out the hollars of distress with its rapid thumping.

“Mama, look!” Two voices sounded.

Your breath hitched as the familiar calls rang through your head. The pounding in your chest quickened and strengthened when the footsteps got closer. Hearing their giggles and whispers caused your form to tense– not having the strength to say or do anything. How would you explain your current position? How would you tell them tha-

“Mama, are you alright?”

You snapped out of your daydream to see you were in front of the stream, taking care of your personal tasks, this chore being the cleansing of garments. The query of when you arrived there was unknown, but you would assume it had been for way longer than you should have resided in that area. The dreams you would endure during the solace of night, despite those nights being anything but comforting, had begun bleeding into the day and becoming more prevalent and gruesome. It was becoming quite the distraction.

"Mama?"

Before you could allow your thoughts to consume you, you focused your attention on your son and daughter, who were awaiting your reply with innocent eyes. Yeah, their virtue never ceased to amaze you. They were too good for this world– their empathy brought light to your soul that you believed had burnt out long ago– pride and joy.

You looked at your twins with an awaiting gaze as you watched their expressions turn into excitement at the realization they had caught your attention. You blinked once before being met with a piece of parchment littered with ink. It did not take long to realize that the twins had made you something in their short time away. Blinking up at the two, you gave them a fond grin before looking back down at the material. Upon viewing the parchment, you saw an image of what you assumed to be an image of a bird, and next to the picture was a small note.

" To show gratitude to our dearest mother," you read aloud before holding the small gift to your chest, "Thank you, my loves, it is lovely."

The joy on their faces from the small compliment warmed your heart, referring to your previous statement of them being too good for this world. There were moments when you could not believe that the twins were a product of you and Sukuna– that was a reoccurring thought you had often. They were, without doubt, your most significant and last blessing as things around the temple had not been going as smoothly as they once had been the first few years you resided in it, and it was clearly starting to take a toll on everybody, including you.

"Mama, guess what we learned today?" Your son exclaimed excitedly, causing you to jump a little, not expecting the sudden outburst of enthusiasm.

"Was it penmanship because the both of you are getting better. Have you been practicing like I have told you to?" You joked, poking at their bellies, causing them to giggle.

"No, Mama, Father taught us about Jujutsu!" your daughter shouted enthusiastically.

"Hey, I wanted to tell her," the boy pouted.

"Sorry," your little girl apologized as she turned to look at her brother with an apologetic look.

The sibling tried to look upset, not wanting to give in quite yet, but when he turned around to look at his sister's guilty expression, he launched to hug her. If you had said it twice, you were to state it a third time– the world did not deserve this pair– you could not stress that enough.

"Did he now?" you breathed, your anxiety slowly creeping to the back of your neck like it did so often.

You were aware of the agreement you made with Sukuna all those years ago, and as of things so far, you both were holding up to your ends of the deal. The twins continued to be educated under your supervision and occasionally your attendant. Your little girl and boy were now at the ripe age of six, at which they would begin manifesting their cursed energy, so they were now taking lessons under their father's supervision– that notion made you apprehensive of your deal.

As you previously mentioned, things were not going as smoothly as they once were. Your village has become slightly non-compliant recently. The traditional wedding ceremonies had stopped a little over a year ago as families started refusing to hand over their kin to Sukuna. Despite the disrespect, Sukuna had no care as he had plenty of women to satisfy him; however, to say that he was taking the rebellion lightly would be a complete lie. Over the last few years, more guards were posted for precautionary reasons. Nothing major had happened yet, only the occasional distant and muffled voices chanting in protest.

With such circumstances, emotions were running high, and the crowd only seemed to get bigger as the days passed. You could admit that some days were worse than others, but it did not change the fact that these events could cause a catastrophic resolution at the hands of your husband. Viewing the situation, there was no question that Sukuna would be more occupied than usual; however, it was not amid meetings or trivial tasks but with his children instead.

Sukuna could hardly be viewed as a legitimate father but rather a mentor– a cruel one based on the round, tear-stained cheeks that would walk into the garden after they had spent their designated time with their dad. The only children who seemed the slightest bit content with their learnings were your son and daughter. Your twins have not been training for long, but they had outlasted most other kids regarding their spirits breaking. The first day your little boy and girl had left to meet with Sukuna, you could not help but feel nervous; however, when they came back, they were all giggles and smiles as they told you of their time with the man they call father. To say you were shocked was an understatement, but despite that astonishment, you were simply glad they left a good impression and walked out unscathed, their spirits still intact.

"So, have your studies with your father come to fruition yet?" You asked, not thinking of your wording as the question effortlessly slipped from your tongue.

"Come to fruition?" your son repeated, looking at his sister to see if she understood the meaning of your words.

Despite your children being clever, they were still young and naive, and that naivety could not help but make you laugh gently as you watched them whisper to each other as they tried to decipher the saying. They paused in their little hushed conversation at your breathy giggle, flustered as they looked at you, hoping you would grant them the knowledge they wanted.

"Mama, stop laughing. What does it mean?" the two whined in sync as they looked at you with awaiting eyes.

"Alright," you managed to say between your little fits of giggles, "It means to succeed in the progression of a goal. In this case, did you reach the intended goal of your lessons today?"

Your twins thought over your words for a minute before a look of realization washed over their faces. The two looked at one another to make sure the other understood, finding they were both on the same page before turning to your now-awaiting gaze. Smiles were once again plastered to their expressions of proudness.

"Not exactly," your daughter stated.

"What do you mean, 'not exactly'?" you questioned with a raised brow as you looked for an answer.

"Well...we do not have cursed energy yet, but Father said it was okay because we will..." Your son trailed off before looking at his sister for assistance, trying to remember the exact words Sukuna had used.

"Manifest!" your daughter shouted in revelation after a moment of thought.

"Oh yes, manifest! He said it was okay because 'we will manifest our cursed energy soon enough,'" your son finished, ignoring the distant whispers and tiny gasps that had suddenly emerged from the surrounding women and children.

"And you both will, I am sure of that– my intuition is never wrong," a deep voice resonated behind the twins.

You froze as you looked up to see Sukuna looking down at you, a proud grin on his face as he let the words settle. Your smile had long disappeared, your lips forming into a tight line as you met his gaze. His presence was not what had upset you as you had grown familiar with his company and unexpected visits, but rather the fact that you knew he was right.

"Father!" the twins shouted, bowing before going in to hug his legs, looking up at him with their innocent doe-like eyes that shone the color of your own hues, little flecks of what seemed to be crimson could also be seen if the light hit them just right.

Your heart stopped for a second as you watched your four-armed companion freeze on the spot at the sudden attention. Although you knew Sukuna could not lay a hand upon his children due to the contents of the pact you had made with him, it did not eliminate the uneasiness you had, worried of the thought he would grow to distaste them. The curse-user was not a man of tenderness nor liked to be presented with such fondness, especially from his offspring. There was no room for weaklings in his realm, in hid brigade of suitable heirs.

You sit there, waiting for his reaction, chewing on your lip to the point it draws a small amount of blood. The man stood stiff, looking down at the two smaller beings that clung to his legs in a warm greeting before moving to bend down, causing your heart to spike in rhythm. The questions flooded your brain once more like they often did when it involved your significant other's actions. Sukuna took a set of his arms, placing one on each twin's back before meeting their eye level.

"Did I ever indulge either of you with the story of how I found out about your mother's conceiving of the both of you?" Sukuna asked, an arched brow with a devious smile as he switched eye contact from one twin to the other.

"No," your son replied honestly, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.

With that short answer, Sukuna looked at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes before redirecting his focus on his kids once more.

"I knew that your mother would one day bear the fruit of her fertility, but there was one particular evening where I could sense an odd presence. I immediately called upon your mother, and when I was met with her physique, I could tell she was with child. It would have been unnoticeable, but my perception is unlike the average man. Looking at your mother, I could see her stomach was softer and slightly rounder, her ankles somewhat swollen, and her breasts enlarged."

You held back the bile rising in your throat as your husband explained his side of the story you knew all too well, remembering the exact events that led up to that day. His vulgar description of the event sickened you to the core.

"Your mother was unaware of her condition, but I was. The moment I felt her stomach, I could feel the presence of not one but two essences in her womb. I remember the look on her face when I told her– pure shock."

Sukuna's words offended you because pure shock was an understatement. You were undeniably mortified that day, but you would never admit that to your children. For their happiness's sake, you were willing to push the bitter memories of your pregnancy aside. They did not need to know your previous disdain for them– you had not even met them yet. What they did not know could not hurt them.

"How could you sense both of our essences?" Your daughter questioned, tilting her head as Sukuna focused his attention on her.

"Always the curious one, aren't you?" Sukuna noted, a teasing grin forming on his face.

"Mama says it is always best to stay curious because you will never learn anything new if you are too stubborn or scared to keep asking questions."

"Did she now?" Sukuna's grin grew wider as he drew his attention back to you, "And what do you believe that is a lesson of?"

"Fearlessness?" your daughter answered hesitantly.

"Close, but not quite," Sukuna started, "She is teaching you confidence."

"Is that not the same thing, Father?" your daughter questioned again.

"Not exactly, my child," The curse-user paused, looking at you for a fleeting moment before continuing, "being fearless is alright in certain circumstances– something as frivolous as a mouse is something to lack fear of, but there are certain things you should fear. Fear, my child, is what keeps you alive; however, it can be crippling at times. It is the confidence to overcome those fears that lets you survive."

"Why have you come here, Sukuna?" you suddenly asked, becoming tired and uncomfortable with his lingering presence. You knew that the man had not come for idle conversation and to share invasive stories nor explain your teachings.

Had your twins been any older, they would have caught onto your passive aggression as you addressed their father, staring at him blankly as he drew his attention to you. You were aware of the line you were crossing, aware of the hostility you were presenting in the presence of your children, despite the obliviousness of it, but with high tension in the temple and his sudden visit, you felt you had every right to feel uneased. Sukuna's gaze turned from teasing mischief into a grave look.

"Well, Y/n, I wish not to sully our bonding with grave matters," the man spoke, returning your passive-aggressive tone, "we'll speak of it later."

"So why did you come, father?" Your boy asked, looking up at the tall man.

"Must I have a reason to visit my kin?" Sukuna teased.

"Well, we do not see you much outside of lessons," your daughter jumped in with her own comment.

"Observant as well, huh?" Sukuna huffed, pausing for a moment before speaking up once more, "I was wondering if you both would accompany me on a hunt?"

That question caused their little orbs to light up, their little heads turning to you, silently begging for your approval. Looking at their pleading eyes, you could not say no, giving a nod of approval. If they were cheerful before, they were exhilarated now. These kids were to be the death of you if a simple pair of puppy dog eyes could make you cave like this, and you were okay with that.

"Can Mama come too?

Your blood ran cold at the mention of your name. There was no particular reason to be troubled, but at this point, it was a habit for these tense feelings to rise whenever your name was mentioned. So, as you look at your supposed significant other, you could feel yourself about to explain how you had other activities to attend to.

"I do not see why not."

Now, that was unexpected.

The words you were going to speak paused in your throat, swallowing them down when your little boy and girl rushed up to you after hearing Sukuna's approval, hugging you as they tugged on your hands to stand. What was he playing at? Despite the inquiry of his intentions, you had to push it aside as you saw the thrilled look on your children's faces–they most likely wanted to show off what they had learned while spending time with their father. They always returned with smiles of pride after spending time with their dad. You would give up your life to see them smile at you like that for as long as you lived, so you followed them as they walked beside Sukuna despite your own apprehension.

Time slowly passed as you trekked quietly through the nearby woods, watching Sukuna's movement as he led the three of you through the brush, pausing when something caught his eye. It took only a moment for a bow to appear in his hand, but when you had expected him to use it, he motioned over to your son, giving the child the weapon. Every motherly instinct told you to confiscate the bow, but quickly reminded yourself of your pact both in regards that Sukuna was bound to protect your children from harm and that you had accepted he could use any training methods he deemed necessary– this being one of them.

Sukuna was crouched the lowest he could get, arms hovering over your boy's form, guiding his son while speaking in a low voice as the two focused on the prey ahead. Looking into the small clearing, you could see a few grazing rabbits, clueless and defenseless to the threat before them, nibbling on the dewy grass. The bow's snap and the sight of an impaled rabbit caused you to return from your light daze, turning over to see your son smiling in excitement.

"Did you see that, Mama? I did it!" the boy beamed, maintaining a hushed voice.

You gave your son a warm smile, nodding in reassurance before watching your son switch places with your daughter. The rabbits that previously remained in the clearing had run off, but one straggler emerged from bushes, unaware of what had occurred, clueless about its impaled companion. In a mere few moments, the creature suffered the same fate as the previous one, bringing joy to your little girl. She turned to you with the same smile as her brother's– it frightened you.

You had no doubt that you loved your children for who they were. You loved their innocence, passion, and joyful nature, but a realization had dawned upon you in these moments– one that made your heart drop to your stomach.

"Mama, you try!" your daughter called out, grabbing your hand as she led you toward a better spot to shoot from, that spot closer to Sukuna.

Their reason for upbringing would be to take their father's place, to be his heir, and Sukuna was not giving that role to a charitable and naive son or daughter. Things seemed pleasant for now, and your children might keep their nature through adulthood, but one thing was for sure. Whether they stayed that way or not, they would feel justified in their actions– believe what they were doing was good because that is what their father was teaching them, and you were enabling it.

"Darling, I'm not sure that it would be wise for me-"

"I think it is a marvelous idea," Sukuna interrupted, standing from his crouched position and grabbing your waist.

You felt the man's hands slither up your body, messing with the material of your clothing before touching your flesh. Your skin burned unpleasantly as his hands settled, a faux attempt to adjust your form when you were capable; however, with your twins present, you would not dare cause a stir. Looking at the clearing, there was nothing seemingly there as all the critters that previously inhabited it ran off.

"There's nothing for me to target, so maybe we should end this," you suggested, trying to excuse yourself from this activity, keeping a low tone.

"If nothing is there, why do you whisper, Little Flower?" Sukuna responded in a hushed voice, feeling his smirk form as his face rested against your cheek.

Before you could respond, the sound of fluttering was heard. Without thought, you lifted the bow's angle, shooting the arrow into the air– a thud sounded shortly after as whatever you had shot hit the ground. Looking down, you could see a bird skewered with an arrow, blood pooling from its limp body and staining the grass surrounding it.

"Mama, you did it!" the twins exclaimed, thrilled you had participated.

Their sounds of excitement were drowned out by the ringing of your ears as your gaze lingered on the deceased animal. What had you done? Yes, you had viewed death without so much as a flinch, but you were not the one with blood on your hands. You were unaware you could perform such an action– you had never held a weapon before, only a mere kitchen knife.

It disturbed you.

How did you kill the helpless creature so instinctively? So effortlessly? The worst part is...

It felt good.

The ringing eventually subsided as the bow settled to your side, turning your head toward the two-faced man you called 'husband' and handed it to him. Thankfully, Sukuna took the item with no smug remark or wicked grin, giving you one of his infamous blank looks before moving his gaze toward the kids, motioning for them in the direction of the temple, settling one of his hands at the small of your back as you all started the walk back.

Making the hike back, you settled on your earlier realization regarding your children. You would love them until the end of time, and you had no doubt about that; whether they were inherently good or bad– you would love them. But now, as you continue to think, all you can think about is the future. Where would you and your twins be standing in the years to come? What kind of life would you three indulge in if you were all to live? How many bodies would have to pile under your feet before you were guaranteed genuine safety for you and them?

For the years under the same roof as Sukuna, you had been focusing on your mother's words, the promise you had made to her.

"I promise I will survive– longer than anyone."

Your life had been summed up by that promise. So far, you have kept faithful to it because you have been surviving. From your wedding day to your pregnancy, to the many inspections you attended, all up until now, as you approached the temple, you have been surviving. You played all the right cards to get you here and made all the right sacrifices to keep your children alive– what more could you ask for? You were alive and breathing along with your children, and that is all that truly mattered, right?

No.

You may have been playing this game of survival and have been successful thus far, but there was one thing you had failed to do...

Live, you had failed to truly live.

You have played your part in your husband's sick game. You married him, gave him your purity, gave him children, and now you were done. You were more than aware of the pact you had made with your husband, but almost every contract had a loophole whether it could be seen or not.

"We are relocating."

Your heart rate accelerated as Sukuna bent down to whisper those words into your ear, the words taking a moment to register. Was it out of fear? Anger? Possibly both? No. It was excitement. You had given your word that you would never leave the temple unless it was under Sukuna's supervision and say so. Unless he accompanied you outside those gates, you would remain here; however, you had never given your word to stay by his side.

You had given your word to stay at the temple.

The curse-user had just given your confirmation of freedom without being aware he was doing so.

"May I ask why?" you dug, trying to keep your composure to not seem suspicious, as if he could tell what you were thinking if you had shown the slightest emotion.

"I have simply grown bored of this place, plus I have got what I needed from these people, and they all stand right here before me," Sukuna explained, the last part of his statement being clear that he was referring to you and the twins.

"Where would that leave my village?"

Now, that was a genuine question. You were not as concerned for your village but rather your family instead. The four-armed beast of a man was not known for leaving a town so quietly– you had heard plenty of notorious stories from survivors to prove that.

"What of it?"

"Will it remain in one piece, or will it be returned to the dirt?"

"That entirely depends on them, Little Flower."

The answer was vague– it was neither a confirmation nor a denial, but you could understand the meaning behind his words. For the sake of your family, you hoped that the village elders would not perform anything stupid. You hoped they could shove their egos aside and let Sukuna leave the town with what minimal disturbance he was willing to make. Everything you have worked so hard to achieve would be ruined without their cooperation.

Approaching the temple, you could not help but feel the delight swell in your chest. After years of this torment, this unjustified punishment, you are finally going to be free. You have survived, and now you will live. The journey has been difficult, but now you will achieve the tranquility and normalcy you deserve. Your children will have the chance to live a standard and carefree life, unlike the competitive and tiring one they would achieve with their father.

It was finally over.

Arriving at the temple did not feel as bitter this time, watching your children running to your attendant as she greeted you all, giving a respectful bow before taking off with the children, most likely heading off to eat. It was quiet as you stood in the garden; everyone else had gone to fill their appetite– it was just you and Sukuna.

"What has you smiling so brightly, Little Flower."

You had not noticed it, but you had plastered a broad, foolish grin onto your face. Usually, your partner catching this would have brought you anxiety as you thought of the right words, but you did not feel that way– quite the opposite. You were proud that he had noticed, allowing your smile to grow wider.

"I feel like a burden has been lifted off my shoulders, and I cannot wait to leave this place."

"I am glad I could bring such relieving news and bring a smile to your face," Sukuna responded, smiling down at you before taking your chin between his fingers and bending down, "Once you put the children to sleep, come seek me out as we have much more to discuss."

You could only smile stupidly, nodding and allowing Sukuna to kiss you before heading to your children. You did not care what the two-faced monster had to share with you, but you would indulge him because this would be the last time you would ever have to.

You were free.

"Oh, hello, Y/n-sama! We were just finishing our meals. Should I fix you something as well?" your attendant offered, keeping a light-hearted tone.

The young woman had grown more confident with you over the years. The two of you had grown quite close after the birth of your children– she was the only person you full-heartedly trusted with your kids. Maybe you would take her with you in your escape; she was far too good to serve ungrateful and bitter women.

"No, thank you, I am not that hungry; however, I have grown rather tired, meaning it is time for bed."

"Awwwwww," you twins whined in unison, looking at your attendant with puppy dog eyes, hoping she could convince you, only to receive a shake of her head.

The twins stood begrudgingly, approaching your awaiting stance, giving you the same desperate eyes. You gave your own silent response as you offered a warm smile and a quick shake of your head before having them follow you down the halls. In any other scenario, you would have in, but things were different now. Your children need to be well-rested for the upcoming events. You were going to give them the life they deserved.

Arriving at their sleep quarters, you slid the door open, allowing the twins in first before following. Before closing the door, you took a peek out into the hallway to make sure no one was approaching. Once you deduced nobody was coming, you slowly and quietly slid the door shut, quick to approach your kids' bedside.

"Mama, do we have to go to bed?" your daughter whined.

"Yeah, do we really have to?" your son followed.

You could not help but lightly chuckle at their resistance to sleep. Your heart filled with warmth as you remembered sharing a similar moment with your mother. There were many occasions they reminded you of yourself, and you could not wait to see more of those similarities manifest when you leave this temple. You could not wait to give them a regular and well-deserved life.

"Yes, you both have to rest. You two need to preserve your energy for the days to come."

That statement piqued their interest, their faces perking up with intrigue.

"What is to come, Mama?" the twins sounded in unison like they did so often in these moments. Sometimes, it was almost as if they shared the same mind.

"Well, soon enough, you will get to meet your grandparents," you whispered, "you cousins, aunts, and uncles, all from Mama's side of the family."

"Really?!" the two shouted, settling down when you gestured for them to lower their voices.

"Yes, but do not tell your father, it is..." you trailed, picking your words carefully, "a surprise visit just for the three of us, and I do not want him to feel left out."

There was no doubt that you despised Sukuna in every sense of the word, but you did not wish for your children to hate him. Believe it or not, you wanted your twins to paint a good picture of their father, and whether that picture remained clean was up to Sukuna himself– you would not tarnish his name for him.

"Okay, Mama, we promise we will not tell." your son spoke for the two of them, his sibling nodding in turn as she motioned to seal her lips.

You smiled, whispering a small thank you before kissing the top of their foreheads and letting them rest. You stood quietly, blowing out the candles illuminating the room before leaving. Once you stepped foot into the hallway, you were startled to see a guard, a familiar one at that, though he had clearly aged with time.

"Y/n-sama, I have been instructed to take you to your sleeping chambers," the male spoke before swiftly turning on his heel to lead you to your room.

The man's voice was cold and almost distant as he spoke to you, but his voice was familiar. You were acquainted with most of the staff within the temple, but you could not remember where you had met him in particular, though he seemed familiar and significant. Your face contorted as your mind pondered, trying to recognize his face in your personal timeline, but nothing came to mind.

"Your wedding night," the guard spoke suddenly, noticing your expression of thought, "I held and guarded the door during your wedding night."

You thought back to your wedding day, and it suddenly hit you. The guard was the same one Sukuna had forced to watch the consummation of your marriage. You quickly grew flustered at the memory, clearing your throat before speaking.

"I recall now," you responded, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Are you happy, Y/n-sama?" another unshakable tone as he questioned you.

Why was he asking this?

"Yes, I'm happy."

You did not know what this man was playing at, but you did not want to fall into any traps, so you gave the preferred answer when this question was presented to you on many occasions.

"Even though you have suffered all these years, bearing and raising his offspring?"

"Excuse me?" you grimaced at the guard's words.

"Nothing, I am sorry, I have overstepped my boundaries. I will leave you now," the man uttered, leaving you at the doorway to your sleeping quarters.

You narrowed your eyes, staring as the male's figure grew smaller in the distance. What did he gain from that interaction? No matter– it was no longer your problem to deal with. Collecting yourself, you entered the room and immediately faced Sukuna.

"Come and close the door. We must speak of these urgent matters in private," Sukuna muttered as he blankly stared at the wall in front of him.

You did not question the man and slid the door closed, approaching him as he turned to you. Before you could speak, Sukuna placed a pair of hands on your shoulders, looking into your eyes. His gaze held no emotion you could directly name, but you could sense an urgency in his tone as he spoke to you.

"We leave tonight. The others have been informed and are gathering their belongings– I advise you to do the same."

"What?! Now?! Sukuna, what is going on that you are not telling anyone?" you urged, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Now is no time to be questioning me, Y/n. Hurry, we are leaving shortly."

"No."

The word slipped out without thought. You did not care when you left because your plans would not change, but your partner was acting strangely, and you could not help but be curious as to why. The curiosity is what led you to stand there motionless as your husband stared you down.

"Stubborn as always, I see," the curse-user muttered, "Fine, you want to know, huh? We made a pact, and I'm upholding the bargain. You told me to protect those children, right? Well, for their interest, we are leaving, so be grateful."

You stood there silently, looking into Sukana's unwavering gaze.

"What is going on?" you repeated the question.

"Your village plans to lay siege, and we are leaving to not get caught in the firing radius."

That explained the tensity and whispers among the temple. That explained the extra protection. Everything now made sense and you could not help the feeling of something rising up your throat.

Laughter.

You laughed uncontrollably, trying to cover your mouth to muffle the outburst, but to no avail. Nothing about the situation was logically funny, but you could not control yourself.

"After years of torment, they only now decide to lay siege?" you cackled, "And the best part is that Ryomen Sukuna is fleeing with his tail between his legs."

You should have seen what was to come next when you made that last statement, feeling your hair being tugged to look up at the man you had insulted. Your laugh quickly subsided, swallowing the lump in your throat as you stared into his orbs. You had crossed a line this time, but for once, you were not scared of the intimidation; however, what had shocked you was Sukuna smashing his lips against yours.

"I am the most feared man in Japan– I have no reason to be scared, at least for myself. I am doing this for us and our creation because I love you, Little Flower."

"You do not love me. You love what I can do for you, Sukuna."

"I see where our children have gotten their observance." Sukuna joked, "But you are not entirely wrong. However, that does not change the fact we are leaving right here and now so collec-"

"AHHHHHHHHHHH"

The deformed man paused mid-sentence at the high-pitched scream, storming out of the room to see the commotion. You wasted no time in following him, walking down the hall before being met with the stench of blood. Had one of the pregnant wives gone into labor? Was someone injured? Or was...

Before you could finish that last thought, you were met with the sight of a lifeless body surrounded by its own red fluid. It was disturbingly familiar, and that was because it was the body of the guard that had escorted you earlier. You were shocked at his mangled state, his face just barely beyond recognition, but before you could allow the shock to settle in, another sound of screams was heard in the opposite direction.

Without thought, you bolted in the direction the screams came from. You flew past those blank walls faster than you knew you were capable of before landing at the sight of another body surrounded by women. It was your attendant, her face frozen in fear, her body almost in the same state as the previous one. This death hit you harder than the earlier one as you covered your mouth, keeping the bile from rising up your throat.

Despite the grief and sickness you were feeling, you could only think of one thing, and that was your twins. You lingered for a second longer before running to your twin's bedroom. You had not noticed, but Sukuna trailed behind you closely as you sprinted through the temple. Your breath was running ragged, but you would be damned if you were to leave your twins behind in this gruesome mess.

You made it to the door, sliding it open and rushing in, your eyes scanning the room for your twins, but they were nowhere to be seen. Your heart hammered against her chest as you began to panic, turning to Sukuna to see that his face was once again blank as he looked into the room from the doorway. Why did he have that look on his face? It did not matter– you had to search for your children. You turned to look back into the interior room, looking up from the bedrolls to be met with the wall, and heard the sound of a scream once again, your heart dropping.

You had found your twins hanging from the wall, a message written above them that was written in their own blood.

"Bring back our daughter."

Taglist:

@littlemochi @mistalli @youngbeansprout @bbylime @bangtan-forever1479 @idktbhloley @izayas-rings @o3o-aya @pyschopotatomeme @persephonehemingway @otomaniac @meforpr3sident @alurafairy @nezuscribe @my-simp-land @zukuphilia @niya729 @spiritofstatic @bbittersw33t @kashasenpai @decaysan @honeybaegle @ygslvr @outrofenty @gojosluts7789@all4koo@hyperfixationsporfavor

[bebe-writes-stuff]

Kazutora x Y/n smut

--TWO SMUTS IN ONE DAY??? crazy ik, we on a grind ho--

--bitchhh I can't write smut It makes me so embarrassed istg I PHYSICALLY CANT DO IT HELP MEEE----

The evening air was cool at Musashi Shrine, the tranquility punctuated by the rustling of leaves and the distant hum of city life. Kazutora sat on the shrine steps, his shoulders slumped, eyes reflecting the turmoil inside him. Y/n watched him quietly, her heart heavy with concern. The gang meeting had ended hours ago, but Kazutora lingered, reluctant to face the chaos of his home life.

Kazutora sighed deeply, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "I just don't want to go home, Y/n. I can't deal with my family right now."

Y/n's eyes softened with empathy as she moved closer, her hand gently touching his arm. "I get it, Kazutora. I know." She paused, a thoughtful look crossing her face as an idea formed. "Why don't you stay with me tonight? My parents are out of the city for the next three days, and I'm all alone."

Kazutora's eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and gratitude washing over him. "Are you sure? I don't want to impose."

"Of course, I'm sure!" Y/n grinned, playfully nudging him with her shoulder. "Come on, it'll be fun. We can have a mini sleepover."

Kazutora chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing a bit. "Alright, if you insist."

The walk to Y/n's house was filled with light banter, the weight of Kazutora's troubles momentarily lifting. As they stepped inside, Y/n's excitement was palpable. She dashed to the kitchen, grabbing an assortment of snacks before leading Kazutora to her room.

"Make yourself comfortable," she said, spreading the snacks out on her bed and turning on the TV. "I've got all the good shows lined up."

Kazutora couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. "You're really going all out, huh?"

"Absolutely," Y/n replied, plopping down beside him and popping open a bag of chips. "Oh, and I got you some PJs from my dad's closet. They should fit you."

Kazutora took the offered pajamas with a grateful nod. "Thanks, Y/n. You're the best."

Y/n beamed. "I know," she teased, sticking her tongue out playfully. "Now, let's get comfy and enjoy the night."

After changing into the pajamas, Kazutora joined Y/n on the bed, feeling more relaxed than he had in a long time. They watched TV, laughing at the absurdity of the show they had picked. Y/n's lighthearted commentary had Kazutora in stitches, his laughter filling the room.

"I can't believe you find this so funny," Kazutora said between chuckles. "You're ridiculous."

"It's called having a good sense of humor," Y/n retorted

As the night went on, Y/n pulled out her skincare routine, explaining each step with an endearing seriousness. Kazutora listened intently, his heart swelling at her genuine care and attention.

"First, we cleanse," she said, holding up a bottle of face wash. "You gotta get rid of all the dirt and grime from the day."

Kazutora followed her lead, mimicking her movements. "You really know your stuff, huh?"

"Of course! Skincare is important," Y/n replied with a wink. "Next, we tone. This helps to balance your skin's pH."

Kazutora nodded, fascinated by her dedication. "You're really something else, Y/n."

She grinned, a hint of a blush coloring her cheeks. "I just want you to feel good, Kazutora."

By the time they finished, Kazutora felt a strange mix of calm and elation. Turning off the TV, Y/n flopped back onto the bed, a content sigh escaping her lips. Kazutora joined her, and they started gossiping about random things, their laughter filling the room once more.

As they chatted, they involuntarily edged closer, the space between them shrinking. At one point, Kazutora's gaze lingered on Y/n's lips, a thought forming in his mind.

"Y/n," he began hesitantly, his voice soft. "Can I ask you something?"

Y/n turned to him, curiosity shining in her eyes. "What's up?"

Kazutora took a deep breath, his heart pounding. "Can I kiss you?"

A surprised look crossed Y/n's face, followed by a shy smile. "Yeah, you can."

He leaned in slowly, their lips meeting in a gentle, tentative kiss. The simplicity of it made Y/n's heart flutter. What started as a sweet kiss quickly deepened, the intensity growing between them. Kazutora's hand cupped Y/n's cheek, his touch sending shivers down her spine.

As their kisses grew more fervent, they found themselves entangled, bodies pressing closer together. Kazutora's breath hitched as Y/n's hand roamed over his chest, her touch igniting a fire within him.

"Y/n," he murmured against her lips, his voice thick with desire. "You're driving me crazy."

Y/n responded by pressing her body against his, her hands sliding down to his waistband. She began to rub him through his clothes, feeling him grow harder under her touch. Kazutora groaned, his hips bucking involuntarily.

"Fuck, Y/n," he gasped, his voice raw with need. "You feel so good."

Emboldened by his reaction, Y/n slipped her hand into his pants, wrapping her fingers around his throbbing length. She started to stroke him, her movements slow and deliberate, feeling him twitch in her grasp. Kazutora's breaths came in ragged gasps, his eyes fluttering shut. Without a word, Y/n lowered her head, taking him into her mouth. The sensation was overwhelming, and Kazutora's hands tangled in her hair as she worked him with her lips and tongue. The heat of her mouth and the expert movements of her tongue drove him wild. His climax hit him hard, a low, guttural groan escaping his lips as he released into her mouth.

As he came down from his high, Kazutora pulled Y/n up into his arms, kissing her deeply, tasting himself on her lips. "You have no idea what you do to me," he whispered, his voice filled with awe and lingering desire.

Y/n smiled, snuggling into his embrace. "I think I have some idea," she replied, her voice soft and affectionate.

[amorremanet]

For Fandom confession ask game: I think jiang cheng loved Wei wuxian in a more than brotherly or platonic way but didn't have the emotional knowledge to recognize it and that's why it hurt him so bad when Wei wuxian defected from the jiang sect and later went off lan wangji because Wei wuxian was supposed to be his person and he left him behind

Y E A H

YEAH

And this isn't even me being amatonormative about it, because it doesn't even have to be romantic or sexual to be an intensity that is beyond what is typical of siblings or best friends or sworn confidantes. I posted once about how Jiang Cheng embodies Jo March's reaction to John Brooke asking to court Meg in Little Women:

“Of course not. It would be idiotic! I knew there was mischief brewing. I felt it, and now it’s worse than I imagined. I just wish I could marry Meg myself, and keep her safe in the family.“

IF ONLY HE COULD MARRY WEI WUXIAN HIMSELF AND KEEP HIM SAFE IN THE FAMILY!!

Of course, if you are interpreting this in a romantic/sexual context, there is SO MUCH to unpack there, especially re: his resentment towards Wangji, and it is outrageous to me that it's not one of the top Jiang Cheng ships.

[biteofcherry]

To find the light, we must first touch the darkness

Please also check out @bluepinkangel​’s amazing hot moodboard for this universe 🖤

dark!mafia Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: When you unexpectedly are appointed to run a health center, you foresee many struggles along the way, but not one in the form of a merciless mob boss. Steve Rogers’ core aim is to own and he won’t take no for an answer. To any of his demands.

warnings: dark!Steve Rogers; manipulation; death threats; power imbalance; forced relationship; brief mention of choking kink; 

I did warn you this Steve is dark 😜

word count: 5.3k

Touch the Darkness Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Chapter 3. In the eye of the storm

~ * ~ 

You didn’t fight Rogers when he dragged you toward his car. For one, you were no match for him physically, though maybe you could treat his calf with your heel as you did your previous attackers. 

Secondly, you didn’t want to be strangled right away, or - if you chose the positive thinking route - have a chloroform rag pressed over your mouth. 

Your brain suffered enough for one day, losing extra brain cells due to unprofessionally used sedatives wasn’t something you’d like to experience.

You almost sighed in relief as you sank into the buttery soft leathers of the backseat. Closing your eyes, you inwardly checked off answers to basic questions - what was your name, what was the date, who was the current president, deducting seven from one hundred. 

You were at seventy two when strong fingers gripped your chin, tilting your head up and to the side. 

“Eyes on me.” Rogers commanded.

You opened your eyes instantly - not because he ordered, but to glare at him. At least that’s what you told yourself. 

He stared at you for a long moment, occasionally moving your head side to side. You realized he was watching your pupils react in the dimmed light. 

“I think I’m the one more equipped to be assessing neurological damage.” You snorted, trying to bat his hand away.

Rogers’ grip on your chin tightened as he caught your wrist in his other hand, forcing your hand down into your lap. He inched his face closer. The blue of his eyes were a brilliant splash of color in the otherwise dark surroundings. They almost made you dizzy all over again.

“Out of the two of us, I have more experience in immediate reactions. You deal with patients already stabilized.” He pointed out.

He released you, but didn’t move away; hovering so close his breath caressed the underside of your jaw. 

“Immediate reactions-” you huffed under your breath, “you check vitals of all the people you’ve beaten to the ground? Make sure they last a little longer before you’re done with them?”

“No, Princess.” Steve’s voice sounded light, contrasting with the heavy words he spoke: “I watch the light leave their eyes.” 

Jesus. If it wasn’t for the adrenaline still pumping fresh in your system, you’d curl into a ball and break out in sobs that your fate was at the feet of someone so ruthless. The fact he didn’t say it with glee was the only sign of a very thin line separating Rogers from a psychopath. 

Though indifference to something so cruel wasn’t a sign of empathy either. 

“However,” he finally leaned back a little, his eyes not once straying from your face, “I wasn’t the one who beat you to the ground. And I’m quite pleased the ordeal didn't chase away the sparks from your eyes.” 

As much as it irked you that Rogers found some amusement in your defiance, you clung to it, since it meant he wasn’t set cold on disposing of you. 

“Who was it then?” You asked, turning your head to peer through the window. 

“I told you, others will come for you.” One of his hands curled into a fist for a short moment, a muscle in his jaw twitching in tension. “I hoped they wouldn’t reach you until you said your words to me, but I forgot how rash and stupid some of my so-called opponents are.”  

At the start of the day you were blissfully oblivious to the existence of men like Steve Rogers. And by the end of it you had not only him barging into your life, but other mobsters too. 

You felt nauseous just from the thought of it. 

“They’re stupid for wanting the same thing you do?” It really wasn’t your aim to irritate your captor (posing as savior), but you gave yourself permission to be annoyed with this whole situation. 

“Nah, Princess. They’re stupid thinking they can take it from me.” 

Cocky words, but spoken with calm conviction of someone honed in fighting. Someone who won each fight he participated in.

It dawned on you that Steve’s previous warning of others coming to you with offers was only to manipulate you. Sure, as proved, others did come. But Rogers not for a second planned on giving you the opportunity to take sides with any of his rivals.

Which is probably how he got to you so fast - because he had someone watching you. No matter who, or how, tried to reach you, Rogers was going to intervene one way or another.

“Well, I can.” You muttered defiantly, resting your head back against the seat. “I still can say no.”

“Sure you can.” Steve’s tone held no anger, nor amusement. He sounded rather bored. 

And it fucking annoyed you! 

That he was indifferent to you putting up a fight, as if he could easily sway your decision with a snap of his fingers. 

The only thing stopping you from an outburst (and maybe trying to scratch his stupidly pretty face) was the voice of reason that your self-preservation instinct screamed at you. Because if you did any of those things, you’d probably end up dead. 

The front passenger’s door opened and a man slid in. Few strands of his dark hair escaped the tied bun. He made a single motion with his hand and the driver, without a question, started the car. 

“Rumlow’s goons?” Rogers asked, meeting the other man’s gaze in the rearview mirror. 

“Yep.” Came a dispassionate reply. “Widow’s gonna wait for the cleaning team then scoop the rat out of his hole. Should she bring him to the pit, or-”

“Bring him first to me.” Roger’s voice was like a slowly unsheathed sword.

When his eyes shifted to look at you as he spoke, you felt the heaviness of that blade settling on your shoulder, inching to cut off your head. Something told you that Rogers wanted you to witness the bloody spectacle, as if his words alone didn’t terrify you enough. 

As the car pulled out of the center’s parking lot, you caught a glimpse of your own car through the window. Rogers still had your keys. 

“Should I give your driver my address, or assume you know it already?” You asked Steve.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling cold creeping up your skin despite warm wafts of heat distributed in the mobster's fine car. 

Adrenaline was slowly dying out, allowing the shock of the day’s mad events to take over your body. You considered yourself resilient, but it didn’t mean you were immune to stress and anxiety. 

“You know that I know it already.” Steve’s hand slid beneath your chin, cupping it surprisingly gently and turning your head so you looked at him. 

It provided a surge of warmth and comfort, despite the logical part of your brain recognizing its source as the most dangerous threat to you at the moment. 

“You’re also smart enough to know that you’re not going home tonight.” 

Steve’s words, if spoken by someone else, may have elicited a sense of security and comfort. But his intention wasn’t to care for you after a traumatic event and you wouldn’t fool yourself by projecting sympathetic traits onto him. 

Recklessly, you lunged for the side door, ready to jump out of a moving car. It wouldn’t be that bad, since you were already battered and the car was still moving quite slowly. 

Your fingers barely grazed the door handle when Rogers caught your wrists in a painfully hard grip. 

He yanked you backwards, your side bumping into his wide chest. Crossing your wrists together, he clasped them in one of his large hands. His other arm snuck around your back, hand slipping beneath your hip to hoist you up and over Rogers’ lap. 

“Now that,” he gruffed into your ear once he had you settled against him, “was purely stupid, Princess.” 

You sat frozen still, shocked from the way he positioned you and scared of how he’d answer your escape attempt. 

He held your crossed wrists to your chest, his other arm wrapped around your middle to ensure you sat in his lap and not try to flee again. His encompassing heat and strength overwhelmed you, spurring your heart into a rapid beat. 

“Be good and stay still, or I’ll tie you up in knots so intricate you’ll sweat with the shallowest breath.”

Fuck. You clenched your eyes shut, forcing your body to calm down.

If this was a threat of torture, Rogers sure made it sound like a dark promise of a more carnal nature. 

Then again, weren’t some of the worst medieval tortures the slow, seemingly harmless ones? You remembered learning of the one where a victim was bound down and had water slowly drip on their forehead. But it was continuous and from a height that made each drop feel like a little rock. Until it drilled through the skull. 

The way Steve handled you was messing with your head, too.

Cords of muscles in his arms, constricting you tightly, held the strength to cause immediate pain. They also lifted you up from the asphalt, provided security and support. As false as the sense of it was, you believed the protection of Rogers’ possessiveness. 

His thick thighs beneath you felt hard, definitely less comfortable than the leather seats. Your skin seemed to feel the coarse sturdiness of them even through the fabric of your pantsuit. 

It was humiliating. 

Especially with the way a spark of heat flickered to life in your belly. 

Women your age sat in a man’s lap for sexual purposes. Intimate purposes. 

A part of you knew that many assholes in a position of power - like a mobster - would push the situation further. Threats of physical violence, of rape, worked the best, right? 

And yet, Rogers wasn’t groping you. His hands didn’t stray much as he held you in place, while continuing to talk with his man in the front seat. 

It was a smart manipulation - making you thankful that he didn’t violate you, thus making you more comfortable and pliant to what he further demanded. 

When the car finally reached its destination, Rogers’ henchman stepped out to open the side door for you. Steve, with an annoying ease, lifted you off his lap and moved you closer to the exit, so you could step out. He quickly followed after, his fingers immediately circling your wrist to tug you along with him. 

Your heels weren’t that high, but they still wobbled on the gravel driveway in front of an impressive, Tudor style house. You felt more stable once you stepped onto a stone step at the entrance, but no matter the surface beneath your feet you definitely didn’t feel secure in the whole situation. 

Rogers released your arm once the door closed behind you, so sure of you following him obediently without him prompting you. 

It wasn’t like you had any other choice, anyway. 

You could spontaneously attempt an escape, but it would be stupid and pathetic since you didn’t even know where through the house you’d find an escape route, and the men keeping guard on the other side of the door would be as movable as a brick wall.

Besides, you had no certainty that Rogers wouldn’t simply take out his gun. 

Even if you didn’t see one, it didn't mean he wasn’t carrying. 

Steve led you through the spacious living room toward an open kitchen; motioned at you to sit down at the big, wooden dining table in the dining area next to the renovated but still rustical kitchen. Light, quite cozy space threw you off a bit. You’d first expect some dark office in which the mobster dealt with his business, where he’d once again make you an offer you couldn’t refuse. 

Instead, he ventured to the kitchen and put a kettle on the massive stove. 

“How do you take your tea?” He asked, so casually you were starting to wonder if you did not in fact have a brain damage and it was all a hallucination.

“Excuse me?” You stared at him. 

“I know you drink tea. It’s what you had in a cup on your desk earlier today.” He didn’t even glance your way as he opened a cupboard and took out a cup. “So, how do you take your tea? Black or green? Sugar?”

“Green,” you replied. You definitely needed something calming. 

“Are you hungry?” Steve leaned his hip against the counter of the kitchen island, arms crossed over his chest as he looked your way. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” You raised your voice, feeling exasperation and utter confusion. 

Combined, they made you more anxious. 

A muscle in his jaw twitched, the only sign of displeasure at your outburst. He slowly moved, taking off his leather jacket as he walked towards you. Once he placed the jacket over the backseat of one of the dining chairs, you noticed the gun holstered to his side. 

Undoubtedly, a purposeful showing of the threat he still posed, despite offering you tea. 

“We’re going to have a chat, which will make you even less happy,” he declared, towering above you. “It may take time. After today’s events, I suspect you may be down on energy, so I’m offering you a meal.”

“Well, my cook is off at this time, so you can’t hope for anything fancy-” he shrugged, turning his back to you and walking away to brew your tea- “but I make a mean grilled cheese sandwich.” 

“No, thank you,” you gritted through your teeth. 

It was hard to fight the urge to throw something at him, preferably knocking him out, then running away. You noticed french doors, probably leading to the garden, but something told you that you wouldn’t be able to get far before Rogers catches you.

A few moments later Steve placed a cup of steaming tea in front of you, with a fucking cookie on the saucer as if he was having you over for friendly chit chat. 

He sat opposite of you, on the other end of the table. You doubted it was because he was truly scared of you throwing hot tea at him. Rather wanted to maintain his level of power, seating himself at the head of the table like a king.

Tudor style house, taking dominating positions, rings shining on his fingers - he truly carried himself like a modern, dark king. 

He had the sleeves of his henley slightly pulled up, revealing more of the tattoos you noticed earlier. His other forearm was covered in swirls of black and color, as well. A protruding vein slithered beneath the ink, surprising you that it was still visible under tattoos. 

You wondered for a brief second, where else on his body the ink spread. 

Where else veins lead to nooks and dark discoveries…

A glint of his gun, when your gaze brushed over the wide span on Rogers’ chest, pulled you back to reality.   

“This is the part where you tell me you were right and that you can protect me from others?” You peered at Steve over the rim of your cup. 

The fact Rogers saved you, in a way, from a kidnapping and potential further pain, didn’t mean it was an act of genuine chivalry. There was also nothing indicating he couldn’t have staged the whole thing.

You’d be naive not to consider that scenario, especially since Rogers proved to be a very smart, subtle manipulator (though you also had a feeling he’d shed that subtlety in a blink of an eye, exposing the ruthless brutality of his rotten core, if you stepped too far). 

“This is the part where I show you not only I can protect you, but I will erase anything that poses a threat to my accouterments.” 

There was something in his tone that elicited a shiver of fear. The use of word erase, which suddenly transformed your concept of defiance’s consequences of pain and torture into ultimate death. 

There was also the other word that drew your attention. 

“Accouterments?” Slowly, you set the cup back on the saucer. 

“That what belongs to me-” Steve’s eyes bore a cold flame of a monstrous dragon daring someone to steal a single coin from his treasure- “and those who are of use to me.” 

An invisible fist clenched around your heart. 

As much as you hated the implication of being someone of use to Steve Rogers, it was a tad less scary than him labeling you as something belonging to him.

Belonging meant forever bound. It meant no escape.

Before you dared to point out you may not be of use, since you still wanted to refuse his deal, the door opened and multiple footsteps echoed. There was some shuffling, too. 

Your gaze flicked up over Steve’s shoulder, while he didn’t even flinch. He kept his eyes on you as you took in the scene unfolding behind him. A true horror, making the previous events of this day a merely inconvenient struggle. Cold dread spread through your limbs, washing away even the crackling anger that buzzed in your chest a few seconds ago.

Rogers’ henchman - called Bucky, if you heard right - pushed forward a battered and bound Felix.

Felix, who looked smaller and weaker next to these men in his posture alone. You still remembered how terrified he looked when Rogers first came into the center, you couldn’t imagine the damage the brutal treatment had to cause. 

His clothes were rumpled, his hair matted with blood that still slowly seeped from the gash on his forehead. His hands were bound with a zip tie.

“Oh my God!” You jumped to your feet.

You were itching to rush to him, rip him away from the grasp of the man looming right next to him, but you were aware there were a few obstacles in your way. The main one being Rogers. 

“Sit down, Princess,” Steve commanded calmly. 

“Let him go!” You demanded. Your eyes stung with tears, but you kept your gaze on poor Felix. “Haven’t you done enough? He plays no part in this!”

Your leg twitched, right foot taking a hesitant step forward. The sound of a chair scraping against the floor froze you in place. In your peripheral vision you saw Rogers stand up. 

He crossed the floor to you in a few long strides and stood in front of you, blocking your vision of Felix completely. Strong, long fingers curled around the front of your neck. The hot power radiating off of them and the feeling of cold, hard metal of his rings pressing into your skin caused your breath to hitch in your chest.

Your eyes flew up to Steve’s face in an instant; pupils widening and lips parting on a choked gasp. 

Cold blue depths of his eyes ignited with a triumphant recognition at your reaction. 

“Sit down, Princess.” He repeated his order, still calmly, but his tone was sharper. A snap of a whip to remind you of your place. 

Your knees weakened, bending obediently at his command. His hand remained locked on your throat as you sat down in your chair. He held you in his grip a moment longer, thumb brushing down along the column of your throat to chase the wicked pulse beneath your skin.

Then he released you, moving only a step to the side and half-sitting on the dining table. He motioned at Bucky to come a little closer with their victim, so that both you and Steve could see Felix and what was about to unfold. 

“Your dutiful employee plays a bigger part in all of this, than you think.” Rogers addressed you. 

“Do you know,” he rested one of his hands on the table, fingers slowly rapping against the sturdy surface (rings on his fingers caught wicked flickers of light), “that the men who tried to kidnap you today are a part of Brock Rumlow’s pitiful mob? They call themselves Hydra.” 

As if on cue, Bucky gripped Felix’s shoulder with one gloved hand and with his other hand yanked up the blood-stained fabric of his shirt. 

Exposing a tattoo on Felix’s ribs; one presenting a skull with some kind of tentacles. 

You assumed it was supposed to be the symbol of the aforementioned Hydra. 

“Felix here,” Steve tilted his head slightly your way, “has alarmed them of my visit and the importance of getting to you, even though he doesn’t really understand what I want.” 

Rogers’ fingers stopped their motion against the table and you sensed it’s bad when he goes still. He stood up once again, straightening to his full form. With your eyes somehow glued to Steve’s impressive form, you didn’t notice Felix gulp nervously and try to lean away from the approaching predator. 

“I understand dutiful soldiers. I appreciate them, truly.” Rogers gave a small nod of acknowledgement. “Especially when they remain loyal even when pissing their pants out of fear.” 

Felix current, as well earlier trepidation was true. People who heard of what Rogers was capable of dreaded any contact with him, especially people like Felix who was only gathering and bringing information. He wasn’t an enforcer who’d clench his teeth and try to shoot his way out of the mess. 

“Pity it wastes on someone like Rumlow.” Steve snorted, his eyes showing distaste as he looked Felix over. “Who won’t even retaliate for losing a pathetic rat like you.” 

“To the pit with him.” He declared, not an ounce of mercy in the heaviness of his voice.

Bucky dragged Felix away, despite the man trying his best to struggle against the clearly stronger opponent. No one even paused at your cry of protest. 

“Don’t! Don’t kill him.” You begged Steve when he turned to you.

The hard set of his jaw warned you that he was becoming annoyed with you. He kicked back the chair that was the closest to you and dropped down onto it. Placing his elbow on the table once again exposed the gun at his side.

In a sick way, it was a display of mercy that he hasn’t used it yet.

Not on you. And not on Felix, killing him right in front of your eyes. 

“With your spitfire personality, I didn’t take you for such a softie, Princess.” Steve studied you, though you weren’t sure if it was a shard of fascination or further annoyance with you. 

“He relayed information not only now, about you. But also about Howard when he lived, as well any important person who ever crossed the threshold of the health center. Important not only in terms of social position, but of potential usefulness.”

Privacy and confidentiality were one of the most important aspects of your line of work, you respected it to a point of becoming difficult for a few people in your former workplaces. Learning of that breach would turn you merciless, too, but you’d only fire Felix, not kill him. 

“Say that the son of one of your patient’s is a border guard.” Steve mused, though you had a feeling it wasn’t just a hypothetical example, but actual truth. “People like that are useful in my line of work. Approaching him around the center is so much more convenient than staging it elsewhere. Plus, there’s also the aspect of his father’s rehabilitation that can be used as a motivator.”  

“And how do you know that?” You spat bitterly.

Your anger was simmering anew. At Rogers, at Felix, at the whole fucked up world your reality suddenly turned out to be. 

A slow, wolfish smile curved Steve’s lips; sinister as well as tempting to come closer.

“Maybe two more heads grow when you chop off someone from Hydra, but a few of their vital organs are transplants from me. Their head is stupid enough he doesn’t expect it.” He revealed.

Perhaps Hydra was depicted as having tentacles all around, but it seemed Steve Rogers’ ties reached deeper and further. 

You strongly believed he had an ear at every institution, on every street, at every company. Seeking out help, in any desperate form, would sooner bring you to your doom. And now that you were on his radar, it was best to remain in moderately good grace than face the terror of seeing someone else you care for at the end of Rogers’ barrel. 

“You could’ve spared me that,” you frowned and bowed your head, your focus on the cooling tea in your cup. “Seeing Felix like that. Or anyone else.”

“Why do you think I had him taken out from here? So you didn’t have to see it, Princess.” Steve’s casual voice boasted a twisted kind of mercy. 

“But it's something you should get accustomed to. It’s the world you’ll be living in from now on.”

You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest (mostly to hide the trembling in your hands). Rogers has forced himself into your life, leaving a red stain of blood in his wake, but you wouldn’t allow him to dirty up all of your space. 

Compartmentalizing was your salvation. At least you hoped to hone that skill. 

“No.” You swallowed and dared to lift up your head, meet his gaze. “I may sign over the health center to you, but I don’t need to dip my fingers into anything else that has to do with you.” 

There was no point in claiming you won’t give up the center, he proved there would be only sorrow and despair if you tried to defy him. You didn’t want to see anyone else executed, not even hear about it being done in retaliation for your stubbornness. 

No, you’d give him that bloody ownership of the place, try to maintain as much good work as it could provide (if he still allowed you to run it properly), but not cry over a scrap of land, because life was more important than it. 

“A little too late for that, Princess.”

Something dark gleamed in Steve’s eyes; not a sign of an immediate danger, not even a threat, but it raised the hair on your nape. 

“We’ve established that you want to continue the center’s work,” he said. “I have nothing against it. In fact it will serve me well that you keep the center running impeccably. You remaining its owner, serves me even better. Takes the attention off of me.”   

There should be joy at the implication you’d be left alone to run the center and help people, but Steve’s choice of words - and knowing now that he was always two steps ahead, scheming - made you even more wary.

“You want me to work for you? Run some seedy business under the guise of the health center?” You narrowed your eyes.

“No.” He didn’t smile, but his face glowed in smug victory. “You will take my last name.”

You gaped at him. 

Soundlessly, unmoving. Just blinking as your brain refused to process the words he had just spoken nonchalantly. You tried to re-hear them, replaying the sentence in your head to seek for a different meaning than the one which was obvious. 

Steve cocked his head to the side, amusement forming cute crinkles around his eyes as he watched you. 

“Now, say yes to me, Princess. And eat your cookie,” he motioned the untouched cookie on the saucer. 

A second passed. Then another.

Suddenly, you grabbed the cookie and threw it straight at Rogers’ face. Jumping up to your feet rapidly, you didn’t even notice Steve caught the biscuit in his hand. You were aiming for the door, not once glancing over your shoulder.

“Hell the fuck no!” You cursed as you stomped to the exit. “I’m so done. Done with this fucking bullshit! What the fuck? The actual fuck?!” 

You didn’t even care if a scuffle with some bodyguards awaited you when you reached the door; you were ready to claw some eyes out. The sound of a chair moving behind you only added to your pace, accelerating your heart rate. 

But there were no heavy steps following you. No one grabbed you. A fleeting thought that he could simply shoot you, crossed your mind. 

No pain spread through your body yet. 

There was no one outside when you opened the door. Not a sign of any goons, not a sign of a car either. You wobbled a bit when your feet sunk into the gravel of the driveway, but you kept on marching forward. Adamant on getting the hell out of here and out of any deals with Steve fucking Rogers, you were ready to walk through unknown woods and empty roads. 

“Who inherits after your death?” Steve called out after you, his voice so calm and swift it was a blade that stopped you mid-step. 

He didn’t run after you; didn’t yell at you to return to him. He merely spoke words that pierced you harder than a rain of bullets.

“Is it your parents? I reckon they’d be agreeable to pass the center to the benefactor’s hands, especially being so grief stricken after losing their only daughter.”

Slowly, you turned on your heel. Rogers stood in the doorway, leaning against it, with arms crossed over his chest. 

“If they wanted to hold on to the center as a last thread connecting them to you, I guess I’d have no choice but to help them out of their misery.” 

He was a devil, you were sure of it. A fucking devil, with a face of an angel so eager to sin he’d burn the world down just to satisfy his hunger. 

Steve uncrossed his arms and crooked a finger at you, beckoning you to him. Swallowing hard, you took a tentative step forward. Then another. Everything inside you still screamed at you to run, hide from him under a rock in some God forsaken lands, but the pull he had over you didn’t let you retreat. 

His gaze didn’t move from you even for a second, watching your approach with growing satisfaction. 

When you stepped onto the threshold, Steve reached his hand out and stroked a single digit along your cheek. Which was surprisingly dry, though you expected yourself to be drowning in tears.

Despite knowing how lethal he was, despite hearing death threats from him just seconds ago, you didn’t flinch away. Somehow knowing that now, as you reluctantly accepted the fate he forged for you, he wouldn’t hurt you. 

Or maybe it was a fool's hope. 

“Say yes to me, Princess.” He tipped your chin up with his finger.

“Yes,” you gritted out, hands clenched into fists at your sides.

“You will marry me.” He wasn’t even asking as he moved his hand to cup the side of your face.

“I will marry you, you fucking bastard.” You had to agree, didn’t mean you had to be nice about it. 

Steve grinned, ice in his eyes bursting into deceiving sunlight. 

When his mouth took yours in possession, surprise ripped a gasp out of your chest (which melted against his lips). Your eyes closed - perhaps instinctively, or maybe in the rush of chaotic feelings that lulled your adrenaline spike with suddenly evoked endorphins. 

His scent, his heat, his strength, surrounded you. They drew you in, trapping you in some sort of a wicked wonderland into which your body was eagerly melting, despite your brain’s awareness of the calamity it meant. 

Steve’s kiss posed the same threat - a ruthless demand of your complete surrender, led by soft, quite sweet tasting lips. 

Your hands fell to his shoulders when he pushed you back against the doorframe. Your pulse skyrocketed as the hand on your cheek slid down, ringed fingers curling around your neck. When his tightening grip made you moan, Steve chuckled against your lips and pulled back. 

“We have a deal, Princess.” 

It sounded as much an iron decree it was, as also a promise of life for you and those close to you.

[thezoe611]

"Nega-Scrooge looked at the little mouse with confusion, not understanding what he wanted to get to… …But it all made sense when Timothy pulled out a pink bow, worn with time… The old duck felt that he lost his speech when he saw that treasure that he thought he had lost. -… I'm sorry… You told me that if I stole again, they would beat the scientist… but I couldn't help it… - Timothy confessed, with his ears down-… I'm so sorry…- he apologized, holding the cloth object closer. Nega-Scrooge looked at him with shining eyes, unable to control his emotions when he saw his treasure again. With trembling hands, the old man held up the faded pink bow, while his mind was invaded by little Webby's memories of him. The girl always smiled mischievously, with her black bear teddy in her arms, as she ran alongside the triplets, wanting to participate in some training, to which Donald scolded them, saying they weren't ready, watched by Launchpad, Fenton, Gyro and several members of the clan… … Oh… His family… The old duck clung to the pink bow as if his life depended on it, eyes squeezed shut, unable to hold back the tears, overwhelmed with pain… and relief… …He didn’t lose his last treasure… Gosalyn looked at the mobster from where she was… The old duck who always watched with a smirk as Nega-Launchpad hit her, now cried like a heartbroken old man… … She was never going to forgive him for everything that Nega-Scrooge put her through… but… but she couldn't help but feel sorry for that poor old man… The young woman looked at Negaduck, who was staring at his enemy, serious. She took his hand, which he immediately clung to, not looking at her. -I-I'm sorry… Don't cry… I know you're mean… but don't cry…- Timothy asked, moving closer to the wheelchair. -Oh… Timothy Cratchit…- Nega-Scrooge looked at the little boy, smiling despite the tears running down his cheeks- What you have done… has been cruelty- -Eh?! B-But…!- the kid was confused, but the old man chuckled, tired. -As I told you before… You have great potential, lad… You could become a fearsome villain when you grow up- Nega-Scrooge told him, stroking his head, making Timothy blink-… But also so much empathy… That's what makes children so wonderful… They never cease to amaze you… - he assured, lowering his arm, and looking at his counterpart, who had approached, placing his hand on Timothy's shoulder. -… You don't deserve any empathy for what you did, and you know it…- the billionaire told him- But you have my understanding… If that can be worth anything…- -… Stingy… - the mobster smiled tiredly, leaning his back on the chair…"

Okay, this week marks 3 years since Unstoppable! I still have a lot of love for that project… even though I almost went crazy translating everything to English (and I know there are still spelling mistakes, I still apologize for that^^') (I guess that has put me behind with the "The Beauty and the Beast" project. I know I'll suffer when I finish and have to translate, but I'm not giving up yet!)

The thing is, I wanted to draw one of my favorite scenes, when Nega-Scrooge gets back the only thing he has left of his little Webby. I find his situation so profound and tragic. Yes, he should never have used Gosalyn to hurt Negaduck, and he was the one who tricked the villain in the past and tried to kill him… but losing practically his entire clan… The loss of the triplets, Webby, Donald, Gyro… It hurt him too much, and it gave him a great desire for revenge.

And Timothy appears. A child who, didn't change the mind of Mafia Boss McDuck, but made him remember how wonderful and mischievous children can be… opening once again the horrible wound of loss.

And although in the story Negaduck confesses [SPOILER] that he didn't kill the kids, that it was an accident caused by them, that would not have changed Nega-Scrooge. He would still blame Negaduck, he would still want revenge on him, and he would use the most precious thing for the villain for it: his love for Gosalyn, the closest thing he has to a daughter.

So yes, a rather complex character, one that I would have liked to write more about, I don't deny it.

I thank @rebellingstagnationblog again for allowing me to write this story. And also for the entire Geronimo Saga. Those stories helped me in a very stressful moment, to the point that this tumblr page is dedicated only to drawing random things from the story^^'

So that's it, three years since such a project in English. Thanks for reading^^!

[chimindity]

I'm not your dad

Summary | John B's toddler sister accidentaly calls John B dad. Request by @mirellef2001

Pairing | John B & sister!reader

Warning | sister!reader is a toddler, reader calling her brother dad (but in a cute way), all fluff

A/N | This is such a cute request :'))

-----⋆⭒˚｡⋆꒰☽♡☾₊꒱⋆⭒˚｡⋆-----

As soon as you got out of bed, you ran outside toward the hammock, walking past your brother, causing him to turn his head at your small figure emerging from your room.

-"good morning, sweetcheeks" he says, playfully not even sure you heard him.

-"good morning dad" you say cheerfully, greeting him with a smile, swaying in the hammock, confusion forms on his face hearing you calling him dad; he must have misheard it. That's what he thought.

as he walks towards the hammock, you try to stand up on it, -"Dad!" you call him out again, John B's eyes widen as he watches you trying to stand up on the hammock. He gets closer to you, lifting you in his arms by your armpits.

-"enough, you're gonna get yourself hurt" he warns you, thinking about how you keep calling him dad, should he tell you that he's your brother, and not your dad?

He brings you in the kitchen, sitting you at the table so you can get your breakfast, you keep looking up at him, a pout forming on your face.

-"what's with the pout, sweetheart mh?" looking over his shoulder, he notices your grumpy face as he makes your breakfast.

-"you didn't give me my morning kiss, dad" you sigh, folded arms across your chest causing John B to roll his eyes at your grumpy attitude, and the fact that you called him dad.

-"uh baby, listen I'm—I'm not your dad, I'm your big brother, John B" he rubs the back of his neck nervously.

-"dad? you're not my dad?" You ask, tilting your head in confusion as he crouches down at your level, stroking your hands thinking about what to say.

-"no, I'm not your dad" he sighs, as soon as you hear his word you begin to sob, your bottom lip quivering.

He immediately regrets what he said, pulling you into a firm hug stroking your back -"shh no, no, baby do not cry, I'm— you know what?" His voice filled with a mix with regret and empathy watching the sadness on your face.

He pulls away from the hug to wipe off you tears rolling down on your cheeks with his fingers -"stop crying sweetheart, hey, how about you keep calling me dad, alright? Does it make you feel better?" You look him into his eyes, not fully understanding his previous reaction.

You simply nodd, at the thought of calling him 'dad', he watches your face light up with a smile, hearing those words leave your mouth.

-"you're my dad?" You ask, pouting in confusion John B chuckles at your expression -"yes, baby you can call me dad, if you want to, after all I'm the one who take care of you" he gently hold your face with both of his hands, leaning to kiss your forehead.

-"here's your morning kiss, happy now? Dad will make your breakfast now"

He stands up and pats your head before getting back to make your breakfast, smiling at the thought of his little sister calling him 'dad'.

Taglist

@nemesyaaa @mirellef2001 @jjsfavgirl

[drarrily-we-row-along]

All My Dreaming, It's Only Given a Name

Inspired by the Hozier song "To Someone in a Warmer Climate"... I'm fucking obsessed with it. I can't stop listening to it. If you haven't heard it, you simply MUST.

Harry woke up slowly, the room was still dark, his body warm and so content he couldn't be bothered by the ways his muscles twinged with the need to shift.

There was a comforting weight around his shoulders, a hand in his hair, anchoring him to the warm presence beneath him. A second hand had slipped under his shirt, hot palm cupping his side.

Godric, he never wanted to move again.

"Hi," murmured softly against his temple, lips brushing over his forehead in a lazy approximation of a kiss.

His heart swelled and burst, pressing against his ribs, pushing his lungs until he couldn't breathe with it; this easy, gentle affection. A love so full, so gentle that it felt like the tide washing over him and pulling him along. Words seemed to great a feat, so he just pressed his nose into Draco's collarbone, hoped it was enough.

"Hello, darling," whispered soft and sweet into Harry's hair as Draco's fingers carded through the curls there, his other hand drawing Harry even closer, lightly squeezing his side. "It's so early, love."

A low whine escaped Harry's throat, his body pressing closer, stretching out against Draco's until their bodies were aligned.

"That's it," he murmured encouragingly, holding Harry like he was something precious. "Come closer," he added, "close as you like."

"I'd like to crawl inside of your skin," Harry mumbled, then realized how odd that must sound.

Draco just chuckled softly, "I do understand that impulse," he said. "It doesn't ever feel like I can get close enough to you either."

He sighed, let the short-lived worry of being misunderstood fall away. "I used to dream about this, you know?"

"Did you?" he asked, voice warm like honey; indulgent, like he wanted to hear whatever Harry wanted to say no matter how ridiculous it might be.

He shook his head, "Not exactly," he said softly, turning to prop his chin on Draco's chest.

The other man shifted a bit so that he could look down at Harry, chin scrunching up in a way that should be unattractive but that Harry found impossibly endearing.

"My dreams are paltry in comparison to the reality of you," he murmured like a confession.

"Poetic," Draco replied, lips tilting up at the corners to soften his words, to tell Harry he was teasing, that he was feeling shy about being praised.

He hummed, "My whole life," he whispered, "There's this," he broke off, searching for the right word, "ache," he said, tapping his fingers against Draco's breastbone. He shook his head, "There's always been this yearning to be loved, to be held, to be cared for without the expectation of what I'll be able to give."

"Darling," Draco whispered, and Harry could hear the ache reflected in his voice. It was like this sometimes, like Draco took whatever was hurting Harry and held it in his own body, reflecting it back at him with an empathy and tenderness that left Harry elated and terrified all at once.

"But then there was you," he continued. "And all of my dreaming, it seems like a shadow compared to the reality of being loved by you. All of my longing, my yearning; the restless pursuit of something I never thought I could actually have-" he broke off, eyes stinging.

Draco's thumb brushed away a tear and lightly traced his cheekbone.

"I found all of the things I'd dreamt of in you," he managed. "And more," he added. "This is the fulfillment of everything I've ever wanted; a simple, cozy love. A shared bed, a shared home. Dinner together and evenings on the sofa, weekends attached at the hip. Someone to hold me gently, to kiss me tenderly. Someone who will let me hold them and love them with my love that's too big and never sufficient all at once."

"Darling," Draco murmured again. "You're not too much and you are enough," he assured. "I don't need anything more."

Harry nodded, snuggled back under Draco's arm, resting his head on his shoulder once more. "You make everything better."

"I love you," Draco breathed in that way of his, wondering and helpless, like the way he loved Harry was something that he found immense pleasure in. Godric, Harry loved it when he said it like that. "I love you so much," he repeated. "You make everything better too, darling."

"I love you too," Harry said softly, the simplest thing he knew. The truest thing he knew.

"Do you want to sleep a little more?" Draco asked through a yawn of his own.

He shrugged a shoulder, "Maybe," he said, "I do want to stay like this, even if I can't sleep any more."

"Alright," he agreed, dropping a kiss to the top of Harry's head. "Do you mind if I go back to sleep for a while?"

"Of course not," he said, squeezing Draco's ribs and kissing his collarbone.

Draco hummed, squeezed Harry a little tighter. "You're alright?"

Harry nodded, "Better than," he replied truthfully.

"Kay," Draco whispered, then as though sleeping was as easy for him as breathing, he dropped back off to sleep.

He lay there, listening to his beloved breathe, and couldn't fathom how his life had turned out sweeter than his very best dreams.

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

(Read more of my fics, if you'd like)

[allari-ammayi]

Butta Bomma

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

A. Bahubali x Reader x B. Deva

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬➜

When bookworm Y/n reluctantly succumbs to her friends' movie night and watches "Bahubali," she discovers a newfound empathy for the much-despised Bhallaladeva, igniting an unexpected connection between their souls. Following the loss of her grandmother, Y/n inherits a mysterious red amulet that transports her to an unimaginable world. Her assigned mission: to alter the destinies of her beloved character. In the heart of Mahismati, Y/n's undercover adventures bring her closer to the royal brothers, determined to reshape their fates for the better. As bonds deepen, romance blooms and Y/n faces a dilemma: will their feelings jeopardize her mission? Will it even matter in the end?

𝐓.𝐖➜

This story contains themes of death and bereavement, violence, toxic relationships, emotional turmoil, travelling worlds, ¿isekai?, romantic conflicts, identity crisis, moral dilemmas, possible sexual content in later chapters, themes of betrayal, political intrigue, power struggles, intense emotional situations, and complex moral decisions, exploration of familial and romantic relationships, warfare, injury, and graphic violence. Let me know if I missed any!

𝐀𝐫𝐜 ⌗𝟏

𝐏𝐫𝐞-𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞➜

The Interesting Perspective

The New World

The Angel Lady

The Harsh Interrogation

The Monkey Woman

The Snarky Prince

The Etiquette Lessons

The Language Barrier

The Political Genius

The Mahismati Festival

𝐀𝐫𝐜 ⌗𝟐

𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞 ⌗𝟏➜

The Scripted Starting

The Dancing Beauty

The Affectionate Prince

The Gruesome Battle

The Vitory Horror

𝐀𝐫𝐜 ⌗𝟑

𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞 ⌗𝟐➜

The Dangerous Thoughts

The Kuntala Quest

The Royal Gardens

The Deciding Day

𝐀𝐫𝐜 ⌗𝟒

𝐁𝐚𝐡𝐮𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐢'𝐬 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐞➜

The Kuntala Journey

The Charming Princess

The Kuntala Palace

The Dreamer Boy

The Hunting Party

The Krishna Pooja

The Marriage Proposal

The Silent Attack

The Lady’s Choice

𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠➜

The Rejoiced Couple

The Wedding Night

The Jealous Banishment

The Back-Stabber

The Final Sob

The Honoured Dead

𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠➜

The Stubborn Prince

The Jealous Husband

The Painful Coronation

The Run-Away Wife

The Reunited Lovers

The Old Beginnings

𝐀𝐫𝐜 ⌗𝟓

𝐁𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐚'𝐬 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐞➜

The Library Roaming

The Compensating Gifts

The Hidden Portrait

The Risky Plan

The Portrait Showing

The Insistent Girl

The False Confession

The Impulsive Promise

The King’s Confession

𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠➜

The Defeated King

The Heart Problems

The Exiled Duo

The Discontent Girl

The Confidential News

The Sweet Embrace

𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠➜

The Impressive Queen

The Romantic King

The Revealed Secret

The Destroyed Amulet

The Two-Faced Liar

The Tragic End

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭➜ @vellipo-mellaga , @mellaga-karagani @bhalare-vichitram , @ghal-ghal , @bitchy-bi-trash @vijayasena , @celestesinsight @houseofbreadpakoda @slutdreams @eclecticprincecollector @a-goblin-named-cherry @signed-manny @angstylittleb1tch @tulipmagnoliaisme @jkdaddy01 @channniesslefttt @toomanyfanficsbruh @reebibii @outofst1le @goldenharrysworld @warnermeadowsgirl

《If you wish to be part of the taglist, please let me know in the replies!》

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞➜

This story contains elements of fantasy, adventure, and emotional depth, but be aware of potential triggers, including violence, grief, and complex relationships. Reader discretion is advised.

Does anyone want an OC version if they're not interested in y/n?

[violentviolette]

someone on instagram was like ppl with aspd hate autistic people and vice verse (they were much ruder) so i’m here to say ppl with aspd are sick and we should all go go concerts together

absolutely fucking hilarious stance for them to take given the fact that the aspd and autism venn diagram is practically a cirlce

the more and more i research into it the more it is glaringly obvious that aspd and autism are very closely linked

i think looking at aspd as one potential trauma presentation for autistic people makes the entire disorder make more sense. there was a point when ppl thought they might be the same disorder and thought autism inherently caused antisocial behaviors but then as more studies were done it proved that was incorrect and autism does not inherently cause violent or antisocial behavior and so the two were seperated.

but imo the crucial component being left out is trauma. when u traumatize autistic people, thats when they exhibit antisocial behaviors (among others i dont think apsd is the *only* way traumatized autistics can present, i actually think all cluster b pds except hpd are potential presentations (which for the record i leave hpd out because i believe hpd should be its own seperate catagory of sexual trauma based ptsd because thats absolutely what it is and catagorizing it with cluster b pds makes little sense)).

so its not the autism that causes the behaviors, its the trauma. aspd is inherently a trauma disorder, and so when u traumatize autistic ppl or even just ppl whose brains function closer to autistic brains than alltistic brains, the behaviors they exhibit are antisocial behaviors

i think it just makes sense when u remove the ableism from the aspd criteria and break the disorder down to its base parts. things like lack of emotional empathy, devaluing social and societal norms, difficulty making meaningful connections with others, low tolerance for boredome and understimulation, overstimulation feelings resulting in violent reactions, impulsive behavior, perseveration on specific thoughts or ideas, a rejection of outside logic and influence that favors ones own internal sense of logic, opperant defiance, ect.

i think we'd end up with a much better understanding of antisocial behavior if we viewed it from a traumatized autistic lense. i cannot count the number of times someone has described a "crazy psychopath" and if u take more than 3 seconds to look at their behavior its obviously just an incredibly distressed and maladjusted autistic person

[cannibalgenders]

I have a lot of thoughts about the way mental illness is treated by the Yellowjackets writers and the fandom, particularly when it comes to the vilification and/or deification of Lottie Matthews but I’m not schizophrenic and it’s not really my place to say what’s what when it comes to that but I DO want to talk about the other character who everyone seems to agree displayed mental illness before the events of the crash and that’s Misty Quigley

The first time we see Misty she’s watching a rat drown with something close to apathy, which is to me clear visual language of what they’re setting Misty up to be. See, there’s this disproved (but still commonly used within entertainment media) psychological theory called the Macdonald Triad, or sometimes the “triad of sociopathy”. It essentially claims that three behaviors displayed by children and teens can predict if they will develop ASPD in adulthood, or become violent criminals. The behaviors are bedwetting, firesetting, and cruelty to animals. The fact that we see Misty behaving cruelly towards animals in her FIRST scene is a clear statement of intention in regards to where her character is going

Now, all of the behaviors in the Macdonald triad are actually more closely linked with prolonged childhood abuse or neglect, which leads to the DEVELOPMENT of personality disorders in some cases, lighting fires or whatever doesn’t actually make you a “sociopath”.

And…Misty isn’t really, either. At least not at first. I personally could very easily see Misty as having ASPD (or conduct disorder, since she’s a minor), but in season 1 the writers seem like they’re putting a lot of effort into associating Misty with this sort of false Hollywood perception of a “sociopath” rather than people with an actual Cluster B personality disorder. And like, Misty displays an obvious lack of empathy and concern for others’ autonomy from the very beginning, but I really and truly wasn’t sold on Misty as a sympathetic portrayal or as representation until closer to the end of Season 2

And really is was Samantha Hanratty that sold me. Because there’s a BIG discrepancy in the way Samantha and the way Christina portrays Misty. 40 year old Misty is an adult set in her ways, she’s clinging to the people who made her feel useful 25 years ago but her old eagerness, her ability to be genuinely affected or hurt has been diminished a LOT. She’s got incredibly muted emotions, masks near constantly, and is willing to do just about anything to maintain her control over wildly out of hand situations.

Whereas Samantha’s young Misty is still in a place where she’s trying to reach out- something’s “wrong” with her, sure, but she genuinely believes that others still have the ability to appreciate her for her authentic self, and much of her manipulative behavior is in search of that validation. Yeah, she doesn’t know how to go about yeah, yeah she’s fucked up, but she’s sharing bits of herself with the expectation that this will get her what she wants, and she’s repeatedly being smacked down.

And then we see the loss of Crystal. The final loss that sort of cements for her that genuine display of emotion and authenticity is doomed to destroy her and everything she cares about. So she stops caring. She detaches. And that really hit me as the most accurate portrayal I’m going to get of what the inside of my head feels like. Her brain keeps her from feeling much in adulthood as protection, but it’s so fucking boring that she’s going through the motions of who she was before all that, playacting at the bubbly musical theater loving dork she could have been, just to try and get some of that excitement back.

And now I’m wondering, with clinging to those old connections having bitten her in the ass so thoroughly, is Misty going to drop the mask completely? Give up on every being anything to anyone? Go back to isolation and manipulation and violence? Or is there hope for her, like Natalie, to make a different choice this time?

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

The Phoenix and the Crow

part twenty-five

pairing: kaz brekker x fem!reader

genre: neutral

el's thoughts: nothing much! i hope y'all enjoy!

masterlist

‘I can smell them.’ Y/N batted at her hair and clothes as she lurched through the snow, trying not to retch. She couldn’t stop seeing those bodies, the angry red flesh peeking through their burnt black casings like burnt coals. It felt like she was coated in their ashes, in the stink of burning flesh. She couldn’t take a full breath. Not that she deserved to. She wondered how many of those soldiers were at one time under her command. Under her sworn protection and care.

She had made every effort to be a mother or sister figure to the soldiers in the Second Army. That’s how you earn their loyalty, show them you care and they’re valued. And she tried. She tried so hard to make every one of them feel her compassion and empathy while maintaining her power as Lieutenant-General. She tried and it wasn’t enough. Again.

She heard an argument stir in the group behind her but she paid no mind to them until a sudden rumble shook the ground. Y/N turned around and lost her footing, she saw Kaz brace himself with his walking stick. They exchanged puzzled glances.

“Are there fault lines this far north?” Wylan asked.

Matthias frowned. “Not that I know of, but-”

A slab of earth shot up from beneath Matthias’ feet, knocking him to the ground. Another erupted to Y/N’s right, sending her sprawling. All around them, crooked monoliths of earth and ice burst upward, as if the ground were coming to life. A harsh wind whipped at their faces, snow spinning in flurries.

“What the hell is this?” cried Jesper.

“Some kind of earthquake!” shouted Inej.

“No,” said Nina, pointing to a dark spot that seemed to be floating in the sky, unaffected by the howling wind.

“We’re under attack,” Y/N spoke up. She crawled on her hands and knees, seeking some sort of shelter in order to regroup. Her mind raced as she witnessed things never done by Grisha before. There was someone in the air, hovering in the sky high above her. She was watching someone fly.

The only Grisha known to fly was herself.

She had seen Squallers play at tossing each other into the air at the Little Palace, but the level of finesse and power it took to maintain controlled flight was unthinkable– at least it had been, until now. It wasn’t a topic that they taught at the palace. Jurda parem.

Y/N had seen the drug’s effects on a Heartrender but to see it on a Squaller is a whole different field.

The Squaller turned in the air, stirring the storm into a frenzy, sending ice flying until it stung her cheeks. She could barely see. She fell backward as another slab of rock and ice shot from the ground. They were being corraled and pushed closer together to make a single target. She knew they were too high in the air for her flame to reach them.

“I need a distraction!” shouted Jesper from somewhere in the storm.

She heard a tiny plink.

“Get down!” cried Wylan. Y/N flattened her body to the snow. A boom sounded overhead, and an explosion lit the sky just to the right of the Squaller. The winds around them dropped as the Squaller was thrown off course and forced to focus on righting himself. It took the briefest second, but it was enough time for Y/N to throw her hands out to contain the fire from the bomb and direct it to the Squaller while Jesper aimed his rifle and fired.

A shot rang out, and the Squaller was hurtling toward the earth. Another slab of ice slid into place. They were trapped like animals in a pen, ready for slaughter. Jesper aimed between the slabs at a distant stand of trees, and Y/N realized there was another Grisha there, a boy with dark hair. Before Jesper could get a shot, the Grisha rammed a fist upward, and Jesper was thrown off his feet by a shaft of earth. He rolled as he fell and fired from the ground.

The boy in the distance cried out and dropped to one knee, but his arms were still raised, and the ground still rumbled and rocked beneath them.

She saw Inej signal to Kaz. Without a word, he positioned himself against the nearest slab and cupped his hands at his knee. The ground buckled and swayed, but he held steady as she launched herself from the cradle of his fingers in a graceful arc. She vanished over the slab without a sound. A moment later, the ground went still.

“Trust the Wraith,” said Jesper.

The group stood, dazed, the air strangely hushed after the chaos that had come before.

Y/N had already got to work on melting the slab of ice to get them out of there and within a few short moments the bottom collapsed and fell backward. Y/N moved her hands gracefully for the fire to swallow the ice before it hit the ground, melting it so it didn’t make as loud of a sound. Her flames radiated a heat none of them had felt before, enough to warm them all up before they would have to continue their journey.

They found Inej standing over the body of the trembling Grisha. He wore clothes of olive drab, and his eyes were glassy. Blood spilled from the bullet wound in his upper thigh, and a knife jutted from the right side of his chest. Inej must have thrown it when she’d escaped from the enclosure.

Nina knelt beside him.

“I need a little more,” the Grisha mumbled. “Just a little more.” He grabbed at Nina’s hand, and only then did Y/N recognize him.

“Nestor?”

He twitched at the sound of his name, but he didn’t seem to know either of the Grisha women above him. “Nestor, it’s me, Nina.”

Y/N knew the two of them were in school together back at the Little Palace. She had personally sent them to Keramzin together on a mission. He was a Fabrikator, one of the Durast who worked with metal, glass, and fibers. It didn’t make sense. Fabrikators made textiles and weapons. He shouldn’t have been capable of what she’d just witnessed.

“Please,” he begged, his face crumpling. “I need more.”

“Parem?”

“Yes,” he sobbed. “Yes. Please.”

“I can heal your wound, Nestor, if you stay still.”

“I don’t want your help,” he said angrily, trying to push away from her.

“Nina,” Y/N warned while placing her hand on her shoulder.

He stood up, staggering on his wounded leg, pulling at the knife buried in his chest. “Where are they?” he screamed. “Where did they go?”

The rest of the group backed up slightly while Y/N stayed in her place. “Who?”

“The Shu!” he wailed. “Where did they go? Come back!” He took a wobbling step, then another. “Come back!” He fell face forward into the snow. He didn’t move again.

Nina had rushed forward while Y/N stood still and watched in horror. This wasn’t right. Practicing the small science should make a Grisha stronger, never drain them to the point of death. Never. Grisha was never supposed to die like this, let alone a soldier. They were to be honored and held with the highest regard.

Kaz had called them all together to keep hiking but Nina argued that they couldn’t leave the body for the wolves. The two bickered for a moment before Matthias offered to help Nina and make sure they’d catch up with the other five. So the group carried on, trying to shake off the scare of the events a few long moments ago.

They all knew this wasn’t going to be an easy heist. They all signed up for it, some more willing than others. They all had to train their minds to focus back on the bigger goal at hand. Go in, get Bo Yul-Bayur, get out. Alive. All of them.

~*~

taglist: @katherinereid @littlecat21 @jahayla-parker @maliciousbrekker @brekkershadowsinger @brekkers-desigirl @clunaes @wonderland2425 @bookloverfilmoholic @karensirkobabes @bookworm-center @el-de-phi @so-get-this-sammy

[incorrect-jojolands-quotes]

Here's the changes seen in The JOJOLands and some context behind the changes below.

Papaya is considered a common breakfast food in Hawaii. Some consider it the unoffical fruit of Hawaii alongside pineapples (the state has no official fruit though). There are many types of papayas that are grown there and the most well-known variety in Hawaii is the rainbow papaya; all papayas consumed in the United States come from Hawaii and papayas are grown year-round, even quite openly on the islands. Papayas are easy to grow and its smaller size means one person can easily consume a papaya by themselves. Not much is known about how the papaya came to the islands but the fruit has become a huge part of Hawaiian culture and the Hawaiian economy ever since its arrival. Hawaiian papaya is known for being sweet and tender, usually eaten raw with a spoon. The seeds can be eaten raw as well and they're usually used in more savory dishes due to its peppery flavor.

When writing Katakana, a V sound can either be written with a B character (ベ, be) or with an actual V-equivalent character (ヴェ, u-e/vu-e). ヴェ and other V-equivalent characters are relatively new in the writing system, as the V sound is historically written as a B sound. Speakers would acknowledge the B sound in this context would be said softer so it sounds closer to V, but many continue to use B characters to write V sounds to this day. In this case, ヴェ sounds closer to the sound "ve" than "ベ" does to it, so the change was made to show that. The interpunct/nakaguro (・) is an intentional pause. There is typically no space between characters in written Japanese, but this pause would be used to intentionally make the reader pause and explictly state the space between the two words. Depending on the context, ・can double as a coordinating conjunction (and, or) and be used like a comma, colon, semicolon, etc. You commonly see this with Katakana when someone is trying to write out a foreign word that sounds better with a pause between the characters. Capital letters do not exist in Japanese. Words that need to be emphasized is written in Katakana instead. The exception is if the writer wanted to use Roman-ji to write capitalized words for aesthetic reasons. Araki has been playing around with how Paco's Stand is to be written before settling with this change. This updated name spelling could also be an attempt to curb copywrite issues given the Stand name is after a popular song.

ASPD is only diagnosed to patients that are over 18 and usually they were previously diagnosed with CD in their childhood to confirm the ASPD diagnosis; the CD diagnosis must be done before the patient is 15 and it only becomes ASPD when CD symptoms still persist or has escalated by the time they are an adult. Interestingly, CD is often difficult to quantify/properly diagnose and there is no major difference between CD and ASPD (it all boils down to which age gets diagnosed to what). It's still considered incorrect to diagnose someone under 18 with ASPD nonetheless, but the diagnosis remaining as ASPD might be regarding this difficulty to diagnose (or something sketchy). Another thing to keep in mind is that not every individual who is diagnosed with ASPD is also a psychopath or diagnosed as one in addition to ASPD, so the change indicates this clarification. ASPD means you cannot control impulses towards doing things against society's expectations (lashing out, committing crimes, hurting people's feelings, etc.) but you can still feel empathy and realize what you did was wrong while psychopathy means you lack feeling guilt or empathy in addition to being unable to control impulses. Both can mirror each other and both are theorized to be caused by genetics and/or childhood abuse/neglect among other possibilities.

[projectbluearcadia]

He's Scarier When He's Upset...

Annelie: By the way, where are we?

Annelie looks around the facsimile of Lucifer's room.

Lucifer: Inside your twisted brain.

Annelie: ...and... how do we get out?

Lucifer: The way I came in.

Lucifer picks at the distortion in space where he entered, but the moment he does, Annelie groans in pain.

Lucifer: That hurts?

Annelie: It's fine. Let's... go through.

Lucifer: Every time you say 'it's fine', it's never fucking fine.

Annelie flinches and cowers. Lucifer sighs, rubbing his face and taking a long, deep breath.

Lucifer: Look. I'm sorry for yelling at you. I'm not going to deny that I'm pissed at you, but I still love you.

Annelie: You still love...? Why d-

Lucifer: Why? Did you seriously just ask me why?

Annelie yelps as Lucifer turns and backs her against one of the pillars set into the wall.

Lucifer: Every day, you have cared for me with every ounce of your being. Every day, you have looked out for my little brothers. Every day, you make my routine less stressful. Every day, I get to look forward to sleeping with you, making love to you, kissing you, holding you. Every day, I feel your love for me seep into my bones. And you're seriously asking me why I love you?

Annelie: Isn't that... the bare minimum? I've caused you so much pain and trouble and-

Lucifer: Enough! Enough with claiming to know what's best for me! I'm not a child you have to protect! I decide what makes me happy. And what makes me happy is you.

Annelie: ...but isn't your net happiness negative?

Lucifer: Annelie.

Annelie: Sorry.

Lucifer: No matter how many times you ask, my answer remains the same. I have lectured you, time and time again, that you make my life better. How the hell would you react if I told you that I wanted to kill myself because I thought I was making you unhappy? Without even asking you and just deciding for you?

Annelie: No! Lucifer, please don't cry! I'm sorry...

Annelie hugs Lucifer.

Annelie: I know I was wrong, okay? You've made your point. But... it's just... hard. How am I supposed to see the benefits of me being alive when you're so upset because of me?

Lucifer grabs hold of her face in his hands and kisses her violently. She loses balance, and Lucifer pulls her closer.

Lucifer: Annelie, whether you fucking like it or not, you're going to cause me pain. Annoying pain, excruciating pain, everything in-between. That's just what it means when you get close to someone.

Annelie: But-

Lucifer: I can't believe I have to throw your own words back at you, but a relationship is an exchange. I know your stupid fucking friend made you think you had to protect her from your own feelings, but you were children. But I'm not an emotionally unstable child, so don't treat me like one.

Annelie: ...could've fooled me-

Lucifer swats her thigh. She yelps.

Lucifer: I'm not tolerating your mockery right now. Do you understand what I just said to you?

Annelie: I... think so.

Lucifer: And what did I say?

Annelie: That I'm... going to make you unhappy, but you accepted that and it's okay for me to not to be okay with you.

Lucifer: Partial credit but still a failing answer.

Annelie: Are you my professor now?

Lucifer: It wouldn't be the first time.

Annelie flushes.

Don't bring that up now of all times...

Lucifer: It's a failing answer because you neglected to mention that I'm a part of your life, period. That means we share. Share unhappiness, discontent, despair, frustration, anger, joy, happiness, pleasure. I am not saying you lose track of yourself in my emotions or vice versa. I know your empathy takes you to the extreme of putting yourself in someone else's shoes, but that isn't necessary. Stop torturing yourself about how other people feel. Emotions are no more controllable than the waves that you threw yourself into.

Annelie: Lucifer don't push-

Lucifer: You're doing it right now. It hurts, and you're not going to stop it from hurting. You did it. It's done, and there's no changing it. And you'll be apologizing to me for it for at least the next hundred years. You have to clean up your mess and help me with the PTSD you just gave me if you want to stay with me. I'm going to have a lot of trouble trusting you by yourself after this. Understand?

Annelie: Sorry.

Lucifer: I didn't ask for your apology.

Annelie: ...I understand.

[izvmimi]

cw: written in third person. three female readers (again! what's new!), pick your adventure. alcohol mention (you're at a bar). very loosely based on a plot point from some show i was told about.

three girls sit together for drinks in a somewhat ritzy lounge bar, catching up on three weeks of conversation. C's been sighing all evening, lamenting their breakup of over a year now, and A, already stressed out from a particularly awful week, is starting to reach her breaking point when it comes to supportive empathy. B, as usual, is trying to keep the mood light before A breaks her margarita glass or C bursts into tears.

"it's just that it would be nice if..." C trails off as A suddenly narrows her eyes at her, and B, sitting in between the two, giggles at the quick acceptance of defeat. C cuts eyes at her, and B gently pats her shoulder and rubs it. A stirs the remaining ice in her glass, then breathes out through her nose.

"it's not that i don't care, it's just that if you're going to complain about being single, you have to do something about it! otherwise get new problems."

"come on that's harsh, A!" B starts, still rubbing C's back emphatically, but then her hand stops suddenly. C tenses up, immediately sensing that B is hatching a plan.

that's not good.

"wait, i have an idea!"

that's especially not good.

A raises both eyebrows then grins deviously at B, and C looks between both of them with concern.

"what?"

"we're seated close to the bar, right?" B points out. the girls' gazes shift in unison to the well-illuminated and busy bar that is just within earshot, and the other two look back at her.

"C, it's time for direct action."

C's eyes widen.

"what the hell are you talking about?" she asks, but she bites her lip, knowing that whatever it is, it's not good.

A shifts in closer, a twinkle in her eye. she loves B especially for moments like this, even if she's a little kooky sometimes.

"what are we making her do?" A asks.

B clasps her hands together. "she's gonna ask out the first person who orders hm... let's say a 'screwdriver' at the bar!"

A frowns, a little disenchanted by the feasibility of this trick.

"who orders a screwdriver at 7pm on a thursday?"

"trust me."

A gives her an odd look, then leans back in her chair and drinks up the last of her margarita.

"alrighty."

B smiles and reaches for a fry. C frowns, realizing the other two have already settled on an expected task for her as if it was no big deal.

"hold on, what do you mean 'alrighty'? i didn't agree to do this!"

B whispers, "shhh, pay attention to the bar." A nods, while pondering herself if she needs another drink.

a few moments pass as C's heart thumps. a few good-looking men pass, and a small part of her both hopes and doesn't hope that they'll say the cursed word 'screwdriver', then she really hopes the 4 foot tall with weird purple hair that gave her a look of intrigue (in fact, still is right now), doesn't say the cursed mot de passe. A and B whisper to each other, trying to decide if they should change the keyword or start intervening, when suddenly they hear the magic words.

"can i get a-" the young man whose just shown up at the bar, dressed in a beige flannel shirt that would look terrible on anyone else but a man as attractive as he is, lifts his hand to look at the word written on his palm, then looks behind him. the girls, watching like hawks, see his gaze connect with a bespectacled man across the room who gives him two far too enthusiastic thumbs up. the man shakes his head, and looks back at the bar, "... screwdriver?"

A gasps, and B's eyes widen. C almost falls off her seat with the force of B's 'go get 'em tiger' slap.

she stumbles, just enough that the young man notices, and turns his head towards her in surprise. they both blink at each other, and he tilts his head, wondering why she is staring at him, as though he, too, isn't staring at her. they both do this for the next five seconds, and it's truly agonizing for A and B to watch, until the bartender finally loses his patience.

"excuse me? are you opening a tab or not?"

"oh, yeah, sure," he says, then stands there, hands in his pockets. the bartender is getting more annoyed.

"name???"

C is still standing there semi-uselessly, and the young man peels his eyes away from her timid demeanor to address the bartender, slightly annoyed with the sharpness of his voice.

"shoto."

the bartender all but rolls his eyes then goes off to makes his drink. C tries to figure out what to say while shoto continues to stare her down, waiting.

"h-hi?"

"do i know you from somewhere?" shoto asks. he's still not exactly sure what this girl wants, but he is at a bar and he knows people talk to strangers at bars all the time. he attempts to make a conversation.

the blood clearly rushes from C's face.

"no?"

"oh, okay." shoto turns and leans against the bar, politely ending the conversation.

she's lost. C turns to her friends, and A is shaking her head and B is mouthing something equivalent to 'firmly grasp them' with a corresponding motion and C looks as if she's gonna pass out. she starts to move back to the table but A quickly makes a waving away motion and her heart sinks. C takes in a deep breath and looks at shoto again.

"are you new around town?" C offers.

"i've lived here my entire life."

C turns again and mouths a 'help.' A sighs and jumps off her stool, then approaches the two, with B quickly following behind.

shoto turns and notices that now instead of one, there are three women standing right next to him. he says nothing, and A squeezes C's hand as reassurance before leaning in and waving.

"hey C, who's this guy?"

"i- uh... he was just telling me he's from here?" C tries to join along. A nods, and tries to appear casual, slowly pushing C closer as she leans against the bar and pretends she's about to flag down the bartender for another drink.

"ah, are you here alone?" B asks. she noticed the glance shoto made earlier, and shoto turns and point directly to four men who look extremely confused. one of them is a blond who is facepalming, another has a shock of green hair that can be seen across the room, and the guy next to him has hair that is red enough that they both look like christmas. lastly, there's the dark-haired, boxy looking man with glasses that somehow glint despite the dim light.

"that's a big group!" B exclaims, enthusiastically. "it's just me, and C here-" she pulls her closer to her, and C looks just about ready to die. B glances at A who is in a staring contest with the blond, and B frowns then moves over.

"hey, i call dibs you don't even like blonds!"

A is immediately exasperated. "B, he is mean-mugging me not giving me bedroom eyes."

"oh."

A doesn't stop and neither does the blond. shoto looks between the two of them.

"do you guys know each other from somewhere?" shoto asks. A doesn't answer and B provides weak laughter to alleviate the mood.

the bartender sets a drink down loudly in front of shoto, but C slips smoothly in the seat next to him, and to her joy, shoto stops his motion to get up and actually sits back down, also intrigued. at the same time, it seems like the blond is coming over, and while B's heart starts to flutter, A is reaching for her pepper spray in her crossbody bag. B knows this motion well and slips in between her tense friend and the blond who has dragged the christmas pair behind him, seemingly unsuccessful at trying to restrain him.

"what the fuck are you looking at?" the blond hisses.

"kacchan, can you not threaten strangers?" the green-haired man behind him asks. his voice is pleading, and the redhead shakes his head in disapproval, arms crossed over his chest.

"don't you know who i am?" 'kacchan' insists.

at this juncture, B decides to step forward, and boldly press a hand to his chest, flashing a winning smile.

"no, but i'd love to."

this pacifies the beast so quickly, his friends glance at each other, then stifle a laugh. 'kacchan' reddens to a tomato while A rolls her eyes, and in a few more exchanges, B has successfully pulled him aside for a conversation.

"i have no idea how she does that so well," C says, finally breaking the silence of the 5 remaining onlookers.

shoto takes a sip of his screwdriver and shrugs.

"he's pretty easy to manage if you ignore him when he gets agitated." C giggles, then wonders if she sounds a little too ditzy.

"you make him sound like a dog," the redhead laughs, slapping shoto's back.

"is he not one?" A finally says, now brushing off the fact that she was, in fact, a little bit intimidated. she raises her hand for the bartender, who is about sick of everyone's antics, but the green-haired man shifts besides her and raises his hand too.

A tilts her head, nonplussed by the way he's now very clearly obscuring the bartender's view of her with his broad shoulders. "i was first," she says, trying to stay somewhere between assertive but polite.

the green-haired man smiles, a little too close to the way B does for A's comfort, then extends a hand to her.

"i'm izuku. can i buy you a drink?"

her face warms, and somewhat hesitantly shakes his hand, because what type of flirt offers a handshake?

"long island iced tea."

he raises his eyebrows in surprise and laughs, and A notices the way his eyes crinkle a little too much. izuku orders, and when the bartender turns, A finds herself embarrassed, but unsure what to say.

"sorry, i hope that wasn't an odd request."

"didn't expect that, i have to admit but you like what you like." he's pleasant, and she both likes and does not like that.

"listen, i've had a bad week."

the bartender returns with their drinks, and izuku hands her hers and gives her a compassionate smile.

"you can tell me all about it," he says, leading her away to speak alone.

C and shoto are left, both of their heads propped up by the elbow, but now fully engaged in conversation, looking at each other.

"truth is, i hate orange juice." shoto finally admits, as he sets down the drink he's nearly downed suddenly all at once. C scrunches her eyebrows together.

"why'd you order it?" she asks.

"iida suggested it. i don't really drink."

C forfeits asking who iida is, but shoto points behind him. iida seems to be crossing his arms while standing with the redheaded man, who C later learns in kirishima, wondering why they are suddenly left alone. when C glances over 10 minutes later, both are approached by other people and engaged in conversation.

"this is much better," shoto offers as he takes a sip of C's next beer recommendation.

"yeah, it's my favorite here."

"do you come here often?" shoto asks. C decides she likes the sound of his voice, he's just the right amount of sparing with his voice, and not hard to focus on despite the loud background noise.

C shrugs. "only when one of us is losing their mind."

shoto smiles and reaches for another bar peanut, cracking the shell with two fingers so that they fall into C's palm.

"come here more often. and tell me what to order next time."