#nothing he did was deserving of nearly dying

[snarltoothed]

this would be so funny to send as a middle-aged wife whenever your good for nothing husband who fell either into addiction or abusiveness when he got laid off in 2008 starts acting up but you’re 55 looking 45 and he’s ambiguously in his 60s and unlike him you didn’t age out of your sense of humor and ability to socialize so he just has to humble himself and shut up

image found while on google images ©

[heavenbarnes]

I wanna make it (so badly)

Art Donaldson x Fem Reader

Warnings/Contains: reader is AFAB with she/her pronouns, swearing, inappropriate employer/employee relationship, dry-humping, a lot of heavy petting, implied age gap, effective-infidelity (reader tested, tashi approved), oral sex (f!receiving), art is a bit of a pervert and mega-pathetic (endearing), references to religion (worship).

Word Count: 5.8k

i white knuckled the steering wheel on the way home from this film thinking about art donaldson- this is, essentially, an ode to that

Youth tennis lessons, $20/h, call for details

Finding work was hard, keeping work was harder.

Cleaning, baby-sitting, pet-sitting, pet-walking. There was virtually nothing you hadn't tried.

Odd jobs, odd hours, and the occasional odd employer.

You'd played tennis for the last couple years of college. Nothing remotely competitive but you and your friends had looked cute in the skirts and they'd give you whole hours out of class to play.

You were above average with a good arm and better patience.

Another odd job to add to your growing list.

You'd been particular about where you'd posted the ads, the neighbourhoods you'd chosen. Only the ones with manicured lawns and white picket fences.

Tacking the paper to boards in upmarket cafes, fancy supermarkets, ladies-only gyms.

The kind of people that want their kids playing tennis and could find their way to increase your pay- if you did well.

You always did very well.

So your little car looked a little out of place in this neighbourhood, fingers holding the scribbled post-it note with the address. Your scrawling handwriting detailing the "Donaldson's" were enquiring within.

Pulling up outside the house, you had a quiet inkling that you might've been out of your depth. Whoever owned this house deserved more than an above-average-ex-college-student that only learnt the sport to spend time with friends.

But they'd requested you, you'd have to let them come to that conclusion on your own.

Your knuckles only hit the door once before it was being swung open by someone that looked destined to be a security guard, like he'd come out the womb with his future decided.

What the fuck had you gotten yourself into?

He'd left you in the "formal lounge" to sit smack-bang in the centre of a couch that wouldn't even fit in the lobby of your apartment building- let alone the apartment itself.

As you admired a painting on the wall that you'd only ever seen in books, high heels on the stone floors made you jump in your seat.

The most beautiful woman you might ever see in your life appeared before you and said your name in a way that had you standing from your seat.

Your face faltered just enough that you hoped she didn't notice. There was something about her that told you she noticed everything.

Fuck me, that's Tashi Duncan.

If you know a thing about tennis (or even just watched the news) you know exactly who this woman is. You remember her more from your childhood but you remember her all the same.

The woman that once held the world by the balls.

She apologised for her husband's absence, that he was busy. It wasn't lost on you that the "husband" she casually referred to was Art Donaldson, US Open champion.

The Donaldson's.

Ah fuck.

Tashi went on the explain that they were wanting to begin lessons for their daughter Lily. You assumed this was the one you could hear running circles around the informal lounge.

"With all due respect, am I not the least qualified person in this home for that?"

You watched a perfectly formed cheekbone lift in what was nearly a smile. Strangely enough, something in the pit of your chest was dying to make her do that again.

There was something about her that demanded to be impressed.

You were no exception to the rule.

"My husband and I have seen some of your matches, we liked what we saw."

How? Your 'matches'- if you can even call them that, were nothing of note. You don't even think faculty bothered to watch them. You weren't quite sure why they'd even recorded them.

A silly part of you began to wonder how they'd even got a hold of them- until you remembered who they were.

The Hermes and Peitho of tennis.

"You did? I always thought of myself as more of a casual player."

"And that's what we liked, we know better than anyone how brutal tennis can become. We want someone to help Lily enjoy the game."

Oh, okay then.

You'd made a quasi-college-career out of purely enjoying the game. You were sure you could foster the same spirit for the six-year-old performing the entire 'Encanto' soundtrack in the other room.

Tashi laid down a tight schedule, Monday to Friday, 3pm to 6pm. You would teach Lily the wonders of the game on the court behind their home.

Their home you'd come to find out was a luxury rental when you'd complemented Tashi on another of the art pieces that'd apparently come with the place.

You'd also come to find out they typically live in hotel rooms, but they'd settled in this area for the time being as Art had a good thing going with a regular playing schedule and a sporting-goods deal.

You nodded along like you could begin to understand a life like that.

As she showed you back to your car (the one you suddenly felt humiliated for her to see you own), she called your name one last time from the doorway.

"You undersell yourself, we'll give you eighty an hour."

She left you choking on your tongue with one foot in the car and the other on an Italian cobblestone.

You were never going to walk or sit another dog again.

Lily was going to win her first Grand Slam by ten if that's what they'd pay you.

As your peeled your car from their turn-around area, you watched a Jeep Wrangler slow as it passed you. You couldn't see through the tint but you just knew it was him.

And you knew he was watching you.

-

The minute you'd told your roommate the situation you'd come into, she'd called bullshit.

A few texts from Tashi's now saved icon and a weird little photo you'd taken from inside the guest bathroom, it'd been enough to convince her.

"Fucking hell, are you God's favourite or something?"

You'd argue you were quite the opposite, she of all people should know. She'd seen some of the states you'd come home in after your other random jobs.

Felt good to be the winner.

Even just once.

In the air of some girlish fascination, she brought up a Youtube video of "Tashi Duncan Career Highlights" courtesy of "tennisguy779."

You'd protested it, rolling your eyes while feigning disinterest. No use, the minute you caught her out the corner of your eye- you were captivated.

It was entirely possible to imagine she hovered above the court, like there was a greater force placing her exactly where she needed to be, exactly when she needed.

It was even easier to believe she was just that good.

As you watched her play, listened to the sounds the game could draw from her- you wondered if this was how she and Art had felt.

Had they curled up in their informal lounge like you were right now? Had Tashi studied your every move meticulously like you assume? Had Art passed comment on your form? Did he think you were any good?

Tennisguy779's lineup changed quickly to "Art Donaldson Career Highlights" and you felt your chest constrict. An inexplicable feeling washed over you.

Like you'd been caught with God's forbidden fruit.

Your roommate had tried to question why you'd effectively flown off the couch, only to be met with a muttered 'goodnight' as you shut the bedroom door behind you.

Thin walls meant you drifted off to sleep that night with the rhythmic sounds of Art, grunting his way through an ATP Challenger.

It was no surprise you dreamt of him.

-

The Donaldson's tennis court was down a steep set of stairs, set back into an oasis of lush greenery.

Perfect for a 6-year-old's first lessons.

You didn't know if it was the grand balcony that overlooked the court or the fact a well-manicured Tashi stood atop it, but you felt positively observed.

Lily was in the midst of showing you how she could do a cartwheel (she couldn't) when the voice in the back of your head started echoing a promise of $80/h.

"Alright, lets channel some of that into your elbow."

Give a six-year-old a racquet half the size of her and she's going to blow effective chunks, but at least she has the spirit. Maybe it's her energy, maybe it has been a while since you've been on the court-

The kid's running you ragged.

Coupled with her height, you're spending more time bent over than you are up straight and it's all going to your head. All you can hope is Tashi isn't up there watching you stumble after the ball.

But you're sure there are eyes on your back.

Lily is a quick learner and you work out a tradeoff of one tennis skill for one spinning heel kick (mandatory that you watch).

Roll on 6pm and she's dog-tired, however, she's managed to hit the ball at least twice. Surely that's earned your keep. She lays star-fished on the turf and murmurs something about a piggyback.

You know you're about to earn your keep.

By the top of the staircase, you're more than happy to hand over a Lily-shaped-sack-of-potatoes to Tashi's mother. As you emerge from behind an ornate gargoyle, your suspicions proved correct.

Art Donaldson had been watching your every move.

Left alone on the balcony with him, you're acutely aware of the fact he's standing between you and your exit, and he's just had a full show of you bent over and flitting about his tennis court.

That and you still haven't said so much as 'hello' to the man.

You dwell on it for a moment and then there's that feeling back in the pit of your stomach, like any minute you'll be caught with fruit in hand- in throat.

The Original Sin.

Luckily, Art made the decision for you, crossing the space to shake your hand. If he noticed the way your hand trembled, he didn't seem to mind.

"It's nice to finally meet you."

You wished you had more to say to him, or maybe something more intelligent. Something better than a quiet "and you."

He was the better conversationalist, thankfully. Head motioning to the court, he looked down his nose at you when he spoke.

It should've felt condescending. It didn't.

"How did she go out there?"

"Yeah, really good- not a Disney character I can't name now."

He laughed.

Really laughed, like the joke was better than it was.

Like there was a preening little flutter inside you that said "do it again!"

You shrugged your shoulders like making him happy came naturally as you squinted up at him, as if he was the sun.

"You were watching? You must've seen her picking it up?"

Because he was the expert. Because he is the champion.

He hummed as he nodded, eyes skywards like there might've been something more important behind the clouds.

"Must've been distracted."

Within an instant- his eyes flickered to your own and you were sure he watched them change. He must've seen something he liked, the corner of his lip quirked up before he spoke again.

"Come on, I'll sort your payment and then we'll let you get home."

And for whatever reason, his hand fit perfectly in the small of your back as he lead you inside.

-

And how quickly did you become a strange piece of furniture in the Donaldson's home- in their life?

An ottoman for Tashi to rest her tired feet on.

An abstract piece on the wall for Art to admire when he passes it.

A projection of constellations across the ceiling to keep Lily bright behind the eyes.

At least you belonged- there was no doubt that this was where you belonged.

That wasn't to say your tennis skill had improved any, lesson after lesson you still couldn't wrap your head around why they'd even signed you on, let alone kept you.

"Ok, don't watch that one either- maybe just do what I say and not what I do."

You hadn't nailed a single one, at this point you couldn't blame Lily for skipping around pretending her racquet was a horse.

Wasn't like she'd be learning anything if she was paying attention.

"Ok, here we go just- ok right, when your parents ask how today went, please be kind."

"Your elbow is too low."

It was a miracle you didn't scream.

Art entered the court with a swagger that you could only assume struck fear when he was your opponent.

Right now it struck pure embarrassment and Lily wasn't helping.

"Daddy, she didn't hit a single one!"

"Alright, I don't think daddy needs to know that-"

"Daddy knows, daddy's been watching."

Daddy really needs to stop calling himself that.

Lily and her racquet took off for another tour of The Grand National as Art approached you with quiet determination.

It was like waiting for impact, his eyes never wavered off his daughter as he made towards you. At the last moment, he snapped his attention in your direction- with a smile that should've felt condescending.

It wasn't.

"If your elbow is too low you lose topspin and power."

If you deserved the $80/h you were earning, you might've known that.

As Art stepped up to you, the turn of the planets on their axis slowed down and it could've been entirely possible to believe it was only you two.

And Lily upon her trusty steed.

The gallops of her tennis shoes thinned out as Art placed one hand around your elbow, lifting it higher. His other hand held your waist as he pulled your back flush to his chest.

"Lily, go find grandma."

Then it really was just you two.

Your heart hammered against the shell of your ribcage, blood rushing around your ears as you felt Art's chin perch at your shoulder.

"If your elbow is high enough," His hand lifted it up and you let it stay there. "And your hip is turned."

He didn't have to say it with the gravel in his voice, but he did. He didn't have to hold your hips as he moved them, but he did. He didn't have to stay without so much of an inch between the two of you, but he did.

With one hand in the curve of your waist, he tossed the ball into the air with the other- then he whistled.

Like the obedient thing you didn't know you were, you raised the racquet and sent the ball flying through the air without even blinking.

As the streak of green hit the court and rolled away, you found yourself lying in wait, as if you were waiting for something- your next command?

"Good girl."

There it was.

Under the all consuming effect that Art Donaldson just seemed to have on people, you'd entirely forgotten you were in a position you could be 'caught' in. By his all consuming wife, of all people.

So, you should've moved.

Quite honestly you should've straightened up and cleared your throat and thanked him and told him it was time for you to go home.

You should've moved.

But Art wasn't moving. If anything he was staying purposefully still at your backside.

Obedient thing you seem to be.

"Show me that again?"

So,

You teach Lily the bare basics of tennis for three hours and receive $80 on the hour.

Then Art spends three hours of his spare time teaching you to perfect your swing- in a way that couldn't ever vaguely resemble professional.

A simple transactional arrangement.

Your tennis improves on a slow but sure basis and he gets the most off-court action he's seen since college.

Even if it is just heavy petting on astro-turf.

A hand under the hem of a tennis skirt. A pressing hip against your own. A deep breath as your hair brushes past him.

You figure Art will take what he can get.

And it's never enough to raise alarm. Sure, there's that fluttering in your chest that warns you might get 'caught' but you're never quite sure what one might 'catch' if they found you out.

It's undoubted who that 'one' is though.

The one who holds the cards- holds the throat, maybe.

Tashi, who's presence precedes her perhaps more than her reputation. Even when she isn't there, she's there.

So, when Art's hand lingers too long on the outside of your thigh and you think you can feel it verging into the territory that'll change everything- it's Tashi on your mind.

You're beginning to think your conscience sounds a lot like Tashi.

-

Who are you if not obedient to the Donaldson's?

Chasing Lily around a court.

Adhering to Tashi's every request.

Being Art's fantasy.

Being Art's.

Most of the time, anyway. Three hours a week.

Something to keep him bright behind the eyes, maybe. Something to keep him happy. Something to keep him-

Winning?

He tells you he plays better with you around. The way he says it makes you giggle, a girlish little noise that sort of just slips out. He serves the ball with his eyes on you and, sure enough, it lands smack where he wanted it too.

Everything where he wants it. When he wants it.

Shy and inconsequential touches and glances shared just between you.

Until, well- until they weren't.

"Would you like a coffee?"

Tashi's mother had taken Lily off to bed, leaving you and Art separated by an island. Kitchen island.

He braced both palms against it as he watched you watch the door, wondering if you should cut and run, wondering if someone else might come through it.

Talking yourself out of it. Whatever it might be.

"Yes please."

Even he looked surprised, brows raising an inch as he turned to the Nespresso machine. You took the moment to watch his back, the muscles moving under the cool-dry fabric of his shirt.

You spent all your time pretending not to notice him that actually allowing yourself the chance to study him made you lightheaded.

Had he always looked this captivating?

He broke your focus with a coffee cup, sliding it towards you as he rounded the bench. His eyes didn't even waver off you as he took a sip of his own.

It wasn't lost on you that he managed to tongue foam off the tip of his nose.

This was the longest you'd stuck around after a tennis lesson, longest you'd allowed yourself to be in his presence. You weren't quite sure how big this thing could get.

Your mouth was opening before your brain had decided it was a good idea.

"Mr. Donaldson-"

"Art."

"Uh, Art- I really appreciate the help you've been giving me- uh, you know- with tennis."

He placed his coffee mug down, nodding as he did it. "My pleasure."

Naturally.

That brain of yours was still firing off at a mile a minute. There was a very tiny voice right at the back that said it was up to you how this night would end- you had a choice to make.

Placing your coffee mug beside his, you scanned his face to find him already looking at you. Perhaps the choice was already set.

Maybe it was fate.

All he said was your name, it could've been the way he said it- but your whole body was losing the rigidity it'd formed when he first asked you to stay longer. When he'd made the choice.

Crossing the small gap between you two, Art was careful to keep one hand on the kitchen bench as the other hovered beside you. Not touching you,

Yet.

One step closer and the tip of Art's nose was touching yours. You think you might've been able to smell the coffee off his breath.

It thinned out- leaving you with his sweat. Musk. Art.

A sudden surge of morals overcame you, your voice broke out as a gasp.

"What about Mrs. Donaldson?"

"Actually, it's still Duncan."

You screamed.

Right in his face.

Tashi's voice made you jump out of your skin.

However, Art didn't move. As you turned your head to gauge the way his wife stalked across the kitchen, you felt his nose brush against your cheek.

Tashi retrieved a tall bottle of Pellegrino from the fridge, taking a poignant sip as her eyes flitted between the two of you.

What a fucking sight.

Her husband, eyes shut and face pressed pathetically to their daughter's tennis instructor- his hands itching to close around your waist.

You, young and bleary eyed looking utterly caught. Staring up at her like she might decide your fate.

It took all your strength to find your words.

"I’m not here to teach tennis, am I?”

“No, of course not. You’re frankly terrible at tennis.”

There's the Tashi you were expecting.

Her words should've stung, but they didn't. They couldn't, not when her husband was laying his hands against your back and rubbing soothing circles down the length of your spine.

Not when his lips were mouthing wet kisses along your cheek.

Not when she was right. Spade's a spade.

"Why am I here?"

She snorted, a real dissatisfactory sound- like she hoped you were smarter than that. She was halfway to her bedroom before she cut you loose.

"Careful, he makes that sound before he cums."

-

And he had, just like she'd said.

Art had cum in his shorts, pressed up against your thigh with his face still smushed against your own.

And you'd taken it, obedience in spades.

You'd stood there and let him hump your leg like a bad dog and you'd even pat his head and whispered kind words in his ear after the mess he'd made.

Then you slipped out the front door to your car and you'd pretended not to notice that there were two bedroom lights on upstairs.

You hadn't even divulged the freaky details to your roommate when you got home.

But the showerhead knew all about them.

Visions of Art on the clouds of steam- replayed in your head the sounds he'd made right in your ear.

How he'd whimpered your name when he splashed his boxers like a fucking teenager.

It was no surprise you dreamt of him.

You even showed up next day, valiantly. You didn't run for the hills or even straight to a tabloid about how weird the Donaldson's really were.

And maybe that's why you hadn't told your roommate either.

Because telling someone what Tashi allowed? What Art liked?

That'd mean you'd have to admit your dirty little secret.

You loved it.

When you showed up, something was different. No usual chatter in the house, no shoes by the front door. You checked out the front window to see what you'd missed when you arrived.

Tashi's car was gone.

"She's taken her mom and Lily to the ballet."

At least you didn't scream this time.

You were lucky your back was to him, lest he see the self-righteous little smile that broke when the words settled.

"Oh, ok."

"I'll see you on the court."

Oh, ok.

Lest he see the disappointment that took over.

Following him close behind, you didn't know why you were effectively surprised that he still wanted to continue with your lessons. You'd half expected- hoped, he'd bend you over the kitchen island.

Tennis was fun too, you guess.

Thinking about it, something that bold didn't seem the style of the man who'd nearly blacked out rubbing up on you. Beckoning you onto the tennis court with two fingers and a wry smile did, however.

You fell into your usual position, hip turned and elbow curved on your side of the court. You waited for him to appear behind you, chest melding into the curve of your back.

It never came.

Art took long strides towards the net, vaulting it in one smooth motion. He ended up parallel to you, waiting with a ball and racquet in either hand.

The smile had left his face, a rather blank expression taking over as he sized you up. And there was that fear- knowing what it felt like to be on the wrong side of him.

This was going to hurt.

From the moment he pressed the ball to the neck of his racquet, it was all over. Your feet were never in one place for more than a second, your arms burned above you, your head permanently on a swivel.

Art didn't look like he'd broken more than a sweat.

You knew he had, you could see it in the neck of his shirt. But he didn't look it.

He looked calm, he looked in control, he looked-

Like he was enjoying himself.

For every rally that you managed, you thought you saw an inkling of pride set in his features.

For every serve that you missed, you knew you saw unbridled lust.

Not a point scored in your favour, you hit the ball towards him one last time before you collapsed to the turf. Flat on your back, reminiscent of your first lesson here.

You watched the clouds shift over your head, listening to your pulse thick and fast in your ears. Just underneath it, you could hear footfalls approaching.

No hurry, but impending.

Soon, the sun above you was eclipsed by Art Donaldson. His golden hair shone with the halo of light behind it.

Now this was God's favourite.

"You can't be giving up this easily?"

Forcing a laugh, you threw your arm up and over your eyes. "Wanna bet?"

Turns out he did- turns out Art struggled to do anything but win.

Somehow, you found it within yourself to stand back up. This time it was only a practice, you weren't brave enough to face off against him another round.

This was more your speed.

The hand that wasn't holding your elbow was curving around your front, the pleats of your tennis skirt lifting over his fingers. You felt a warm hand slowly moving across the front of your underwear.

Two fingers migrated south, pressing against the seam of you- he must've felt the pure heat radiating beneath his fingertips.

Turning your head even an inch, you found the curve of his nose pressing into your cheek.

"I didn't give up."

He hummed, the vibration rolled across your shoulders.

"Mmm, you didn't."

The hand sans-racquet dropped between your thighs to press his palm into your cunt. It was Art who flexed your fingers and cupped it.

"Where's my prize?"

There was no trophy, no podium, no medal.

But there was Art between your legs, slinging a knee over each shoulder like he might've been the real winner.

You'd never been inside the 'changing shed' behind the court, of course it was nicer than your actual home.

Your head made contact with the hard wood behind you, bench digging into your ass as you felt a hot mouth moving against the seat of your underwear.

Running your fingers through his hair, your gripped the ends of it- tugging him closer until you felt the flat of his tongue through the thin fabric.

Needy fingers tugged the ruined garment down your thighs, tucking him into the pocket of his shorts. You knew all too well that you'd never see them again.

You were sure Art would be seeing a lot of them.

His tongue ran up the split, one long stroke before you felt the curve of his nose press to your clit. The ridge of it moved as his tongue retreated back to your entrance.

With everything he had.

Your eyes had been rolling back in your head as you arched your back, the moment you were able to find a semblance of control- your gaze fell before you.

Naturally, Art was already looking up at you. Two hands splayed across each side of your hips as he pulled back to wrap his lips around your clit.

You couldn't help the hazy little smile on your face as you watched his eyes.

Utterly devotional.

The more you tugged on his hair, the hungrier he seemed. Pulling from the root seemed to spur him on, seemed to tell him 'good job' and he was responsive.

His tongue flicked beneath your clit, pressing it to his upper lip as he brought two fingers to your entrance. He stroked a couple times, making your hips twitch against him, before he sunk in to the last knuckle.

Turns out Art had a style about him. One he brought to the tennis court and, seemingly, to the floor of his changing shed.

The style was calculated.

Every move he made was engineered to get something out of you- a reaction, a whimper, a twitch. He was doing what he did best.

Playing a game.

Art struggled to do anything but win.

"Fuck- Mr. Donaldson."

"Art."

Even muffled against your cunt, you were good at following his orders. Even more so when he was the decider of your imminent orgasm.

You threaded your fingers in the sides of his hair, pulling his face flush against you so you could ride his mouth. Taking every last thing from him you could.

It drew the most pathetic moan you'd ever heard, straight out of his chest and hit you straight at your core. The burning coil tight within your stomach was unraveling quickly.

You heard the murmurings of words, among the blood rushing in your ears. Easing up just enough, you let him pull back to speak.

"Tell me this feels good, please."

Your chest thumped, the sight of Art helpless between your legs was one thing. Hearing him beg?

You might black out.

"Art- you feel so fucking good," Dragging him right back where you needed him, the tip of his tongue drove against your clit. "You're gonna' make me cum."

He whined.

A heady drawn-out sound that quite literally sent you over the edge. Your hips lifted off the bench, the heel of your foot digging into his back and making his whine turn into a whimper.

Your orgasm broke you apart until it felt like white-hot flame licking up your sides. Of course, Art never relented, drinking in everything you could give him- literally.

The moment you felt the peak begin to subside, the urge was ramping right back up. Like he knew what he was doing, his eyes locked back onto yours as he sucked at your clit.

He was going for gold.

A quick second orgasm hit, seemingly out of nowhere. Your thighs clenched around Art's head, his hands coming to each of them.

You relaxed yourself a bit, feeling like it might be too much- until you felt him pressing your thighs even harder to either of his ears.

Oh, ok.

Art Donaldson knew what he liked.

You physically had to push him off you, watching him fall back on his outstretched palms as you let yourself breathe for what felt like the first time.

Wet eyes, wet chin, chest rising and falling like he'd run a marathon- Art sat sprawled out before you like he'd stumbled upon an alter (he had).

Breathless, you gestured towards him. Your hand dropped a little as your eyes fell between his legs, wordlessly offering a deal.

A deuce.

His cheeks flushed, more so than they already were. His eyes fell an infinitesimal amount before he spoke up.

"Uh- I already have."

Of course he had. He makes that sound before he cums.

Instead, you heard him shuffle back onto his knees as he all but crawled towards you. He draped his upper half into your lap, head resting against the soft cotton of your skirt.

Coming off the other side of a high, the reality of your situation began to settle for you. Why they'd really called you here- what purpose you really served.

All you could do was gently stroke a hand across Art's head, feeling him go limp against you. Boneless, but not spineless.

He must've known you were going to speak, he must've heard the intake of breath or just felt you shift. He cut you to the chase- beat you to the punchline.

Art nuzzled his face further into your lap as you felt him mumble against your thigh.

"I can't lose- you."

[writingouthere]

singledad!sukuna x neighbor!reader; the promised prequel, you and Sukuna gaslighting each other into a relationship. You don't need to have read the first story to get this one but it's here! Yuuji is Sukuna's little brother but Sukuna has raised him since birth and Yuuji calls him dad.

cw: the vibes are bad but mutual so? like Sukuna is lying, scheming his way into being your husband but you are also lying, scheming to be his wife

Phase 1: Gaslight

Sukuna walked to the top of the landing feeling pretty fucking incredible. Today, he'd managed to beat the shit out of some crusty, old fucks who thought they could get some of their old territory back from him and Uraume. As a bonus, he'd managed to embarrass that nosy cop Yaga who was always bothering them.

Nothing like important evidence in a upcoming case mysteriously vanishing to get you some side-eye from the city. Sukuna thought that was what they deserved for using a closed circuit security cam system they'd probably bought in the 90's.

To add to this amazing day, he was about to get to eat dinner with his little brother and his gorgeous neighbor who was watching him.

His phone buzzed and Sukuna looked down to see a text from Uraume.

Where are you?

Another message followed shortly after.

Did you already go home? Is this about your neighbor? It's getting sad.

Sukuna chose to ignore his only friend and head for his apartment, which was conveniently across yours. Well at least it had proved convenient for him.

You had moved in a few months ago and Sukuna had been instantly smitten. As soon as you had introduced yourself to Sukuna, he knew it was over. He wanted you to look at him all the time, although he supposed he could let you give Yuuji some of your attention.

You had looked at his tattoos, his piercings, his dyed hair with some obvious interest, but then talked to him like he was a normal person. Maybe it was the effect of a clinging Yuuji calling him 'daddy', but you seemed to find him nonthreatening to an almost offensive degree. He found he didn't mind it.

He had offered you any help you might need, just from one neighbor to another and you had thanked him with all of your good manners on display.

You had taken him up on his offer of help when your radiator had stopped working a few weeks after you moved in. The super in your building was notoriously shitty and as such, had not been answering any of your calls or texts. Sukuna had fixed it while you and Yuuji drew some pictures and listened to some overly peppy pop music. When Sukuna had finished, you had insisted the two of them stay for dinner as payment and Sukuna couldn't help but accept.

You didn't need to know the radiator was broken in the first place because he had picked your lock and fucked up the valve the night before. You were clearly just as eager to get to know him as he was you, you just needed a little push and he was happy provide it.

Later, when telling you a story while you cooked, he knew he hadn't mistaken the pleased look in your eyes when he mentioned he was a single parent. He didn't let on that he noticed though and he continued telling you a story about Yuuji and Megumi's nearly successful attempt to kidnap a very confused hound from the dog park.

The boy had protested at his correct version of events. "His owner was mean!"

"Yuuji, he was a thousand and so was the mutt. He probably thought Megumi was the grim reaper finally there to take him home."

Yuuji had kept arguing while you laughed and laughed. Sukuna was quickly addicted to the sound.

Dinner had been delicious and the three of you spent the whole evening together. Sukuna couldn't help but think that it felt right.

Maybe he was growing soft in his old age, but he didn't hate the idea of coming home to this every night. After a stressful day of blood, gore and various shenanigans, it would be nice to come back to a kind face and a warm home. It helped that Yuuji, the brat, spent the whole night smiling so hard it looked almost painful.

After he put Yuuji to bed that night, Sukuna made a decision that he would be coming home every night to that. He just needed to get you on board.

He'd tried asking you out the normal way, but you had been hesitant. You had spouted some bullshit about a bad ex, needing to focus on your career, blah, blah. In your defense, you did look genuinely remorseful about turning him down, and Sukuna recognized in you a strong sense of self preservation and wariness that he understood. Sukuna told that it wasn't a problem. And it wasn't.

He just had to change tactics.

The idea had come to him a few weeks after you turned him down. You hadn't rejected him because you weren't interested, he knew that. Sukuna had seen the way you smiled at him, the hungry stare when his shirt would get caught when he took off a sweatshirt. You had clearly been hurt by people who hadn't deserved you and you were justifiably nervous. He needed to show you that he was here to take care of you.

God, he would be so good to you, you just didn't see it yet. By the time you realized what was going on, you would be so happy that you wouldn't mind the steps that you you there. He wasn't going to give you any other option.

This all led to him to the next part of his plan. Even though he had Yuuji in the most expensive daycare laundered money could buy, he had decided to tell you that there was a sudden issue with the center. He had kept it vague and you hadn't pressed him for details. The fact those details led to Yuuji needing childcare when you happened to not be at work, well that was just good fortune.

Like the good girl you were, you immediately agreed to watch Yuuji when he had called telling you the fake problem with the daycare. When it had happened again the next week, this time a work emergency he couldn't get out of, you agreed to help again. And then again and again and again until you were watching Yuuji at least two or three nights a week.

Now, some people may have a problem weaponizing their four-year old to get a woman to date them. Sukuna did not have this hang up. Afternoons watching Yuuji quickly turned into dinners with the three of you, and every day just brought you closer and closer to finally being together.

Sukuna had even worked up to some light touching. Just a quick brushing of his hand on your shoulder when thanking you, moving you aside by your hips when the two of you were in the kitchen. At first, you'd seemed a little unsure but now you had even begun returning his affection. You were quick to squeeze his hand or lean against him on the couch during your little family move nights.

Thinking about what he could get away with tonight, Sukuna knocks twice on his door before using his key to unlock it. Upon entering, he's immediately tackled by a mini-linebacker.

"Daddy!"

Used to the boy's antics, Sukuna caught him and closes the door with his hip before walking over to where you were stirring something on the stove.

"Hey kid, how was your day?" Sukuna asks Yuuji as you shoot them both a fond smile.

"It was amazing! Megumi's mom brought one of their dogs to daycare today and he was so fluffy...."

Yuuji goes on and on about his day while making sure to slip in how they should definitely get a dog every couple of sentences. Aside from how the idea of a creature existing only be to owned and loved at will by it's owners disgusting Sukuna, he also still keenly remembers the time Yuuji found a dead earthworm outside and cried for an hour. Being responsible for a living, shitting thing that would eventually die was probably still too much for him.

You find Yuuji's ramblings charming and even though you hadn't arrived at pick up early enough to see Megumi's mommy with the dog, you agree with Yuuji that he must have been a very fluffy boy indeed.

"Sounds like you had a good day," he says before looking over at you. "Thanks again for stepping in to watch the brat, I really appreciate it."

While Yuuji protests his less than affectionate nickname, you distract him by pinching his cheek. "No worries, Yuuji and I had a lot of fun. Right, Yuuji?"

"Yeah!"

Insult forgotten, Yuuji leans against Sukuna's shoulder while you put the finishing touches on dinner.

You're keeping Sukuna company while he does the dishes later when you bring something up that almost trips him up.

"You know, I talked to the daycare worker today and she was wondering why you weren't picking up Yuuji as much. She said you'd never missed a day before a few months ago."

You say it innocently, but there is a question implied there. What has changed?

He keeps it casual as he dries a plate with his newly aquired sunflower hand towel. "Yeah, it sucks not being able to get the kid every day, but work has really been on my case lately."

This wasn't true. Work was work, and even in the past he'd always prioritized time with Yuuji over getting extra jobs done. Now, he thought of the time he was gone as investing in Yuuji's future by making sure you would be a part of it. The extra cash he was bringing in would probably end up in Yuuji's college fund or as a down payment on a house for your soon to be growing family anyway.

Sukuna was actually quite thoughtful when you got down to it.

You take his words at face value. The two of you are chatting about some play the daycare would be putting on, where Yuuji would be starring as a particularly cheerful acorn, when his phone rang. Sukuna would normally ignore it, but the ringtone was one he had set specifically for Kenjaku and that fuck was not to be left unattended.

"Give me just a sec," he tells you before heading into another room.

"What the fuck do you want?" he asks, already bored with the conversation and impatient to get back to you and Yuuji.

It's some nonsense about a late shipment and incompetent people who are not Sukuna, and he gets more pissed as the minutes keep ticking. Finally, he tells the creep what he's going to him if he doesn't figure the mess out himself. It starts with some mild dismemberment and ends with an unspeakable act with his open skull once Sukuna rips out the stitches he'd recently gotten under mysterious circumstances.

He hangs up and goes out into the living room where you and Yuuji are watching tv. You're picking at your nail beds, something he's only seen you do when you're upset, but you give him a smile as he comes to sit down next to you.

He tells himself that he's being paranoid. The tv is loud and you're too good a girl to eavesdrop.

You leave not too long after the call and as you go to the door, you hesitate.

"Something on your mind," he asks wondering if maybe you heard something after all.

You shake your head and smile at him again. "No, it's nothing. I'm just so tired from work, honestly."

You turn to leave and he gently grabs your arm and pulls you closer. You look too taken aback for him to try and kiss you now, so he just presses his lips against your temple, taking in the smell of your hair and the warmth you give him.

"Good night, princess."

You give him a shaky good night in return and he watches you go into your apartment before he shuts the door. He can't keep the smug grin off his face, everything was going according to plan.

Phase 2: Gatekeep

You weren't going to stop anywhere on your way home from daycare but Yuuji really wants to go to the park and you just couldn't say no to his cute face. Sukuna said he would be home late anyway, since he was stuck at the office. Again.

You still didn't know what 'office' Sukuna worked at exactly ,but the hours seemed pretty wild. This was the fourth time in the past two weeks he'd called you, contrite in a way that didn't seem natural to him, asking if you could pick up Yuuji from daycare. You didn't mind helping him, in fact you loved hanging out with the four year-old. It definitely beat going back to your quiet apartment every night.

But still, it seemed weird for someone as in control as Sukuna to not have a better handle on his childcare. He's presumably had this job a while, and Yuuji hadn't been born yesterday. Considering you'd once watched an entire elevator of people in your building get out when they saw Sukuna get on, you doubted he could count on his other neighbors for last minute childcare.

There also that weird phone call you'd overheard that night at his place.

"Look, it's Megumi!"

You look to see where Yuuji is waving with his free hand while his other one is dragging you with inhuman strength towards a small boy with black hair and a very cultivated resting bitch face.

"Hi Megumi, it's nice to meet you. Are you Yuuji's friend?" The little boy nods and looks you up and down as you finish introducing yourself.

"Yuuji's talked about you." The boy looks like he's about to say more but Yuuji laughs and starts pulling him away towards the swings with calls for you to watch and see how high you can go.

Watching the two boys run around, you almost forget how cold you are and how confusing the past few weeks, few months really, have been.

"Ah, so you're the neighbor."

You turn and see a beautiful man walking up to you. His hair is long, styled in a half up-half down style that would make you look like you belonged to a weird religious cult, but on him looks fashionable. His coat is plain black, but you recognize the logo and are in awe that someone so wealthy would just bring their kid to a random public park.

You really don't get rich people.

"Um, who are you?"

The man laughs but it isn't a nice sound, it's a pretty sound, everything about this man is pretty, but his laugh isn't giving "laughing with you" vibes.

"I'm Suguru, Megumi's parent. I'm sure you'll meet my other half soon enough," he says with a fondness that makes you smile.

"Is your wife still at work?"

"Husband," he corrects kindly, as he sips from one of those expensive water bottles you're always seeing online. "And I suppose, I mean he's at work in the same way that Ryoumen is at work."

You feel that unpleasant feeling well up in you again, the one that told you the valve on the radiator had been there and been fine when you went to sleep that night. "Sorry, do they work at the same company or something?" You laugh but it's forced and the look in his eyes sharpens.

"Company?"

You're irritated now and with a look to confirm the boys are still preoccupied with each other you turn to this infuriating stranger with all the uncertainty and anxiety that has been building in you since Sukuna kissed your temple when you left the other night.

"Alright, what the fuck is going on? I don't know you or your husband or even Sukuna lately but it's obvious you're mixed up with some shady shit-"

"You're right, you really don't know anything." The words are said with the same kind tone from earlier, but there's something nasty underlying them.

"Let me help you out," Suguru says and his height helps him look down on you literally as he does so with his words. "Ryoumen is not your friend and all of these little situations you're finding yourself in, he's making them up. Normally, I wouldn't mind. However, Satoru and I made a bet on when you'd figure it out, or run for the hills. If this goes on much longer, Satoru is going to win and believe me, he'll be insufferable if that happens."

"How kind of you," you tell him and he just smiles in a practiced fashion. "So what is it exactly that I need to know? I already knew that Sukuna liked me."

"Like is an interesting word," Suguru says.

"What word would you use?"

Suguru thinks about it for a minute and takes another sip of his water. "Obsessed, possessive, irrational."

"I see why I would run for the hills," you say dryly and he laughs, actually amused this time.

"Maybe, it depends on what you're looking for."

You were curious despite yourself. "What do you mean?"

"I'll deny it if you ever tell either of them, but your Ryoumen and my Satoru have a lot in common. They're strong and self absorbed in a way that most people rightfully find off putting. They don't think other people are as substantial as they are, which they may be right about." You listen as he continues, unsure where this is going. "This means they don't have many weaknesses, but the weaknesses they do have are crippling."

"What weaknesses are those?" you ask but you have an idea, watching the two boys continue to chase each other around the swings.

"They don't care about many people, but the people they do carry about, they'll burn the world for. Satoru did the same bullshit with me that Ryoumen is pulling with you. Just pushing himself into my life little by little and rearranging everything until he was right at the center of it."

"What did you do when you found out?" You wonder how that had led to a marriage, and wonder if this was some basement wife shit. Suguru gives you an amused look like he can read your thoughts.

"He's not a....subtle creature, I knew almost right away."

You still feel lost. "Why didn't you confront him, tell him you knew what was happening?"

"He doesn't need to know everything, he has plenty on his mind as it is. Some information is better kept just for me."

In fairness, it is hard for you to see the man in front of you being manipulated into anything, but you still push. "It just sounds like you're excusing his behavior."

"I let Satoru have me, because I wanted what he was offering. He wanted a partner, someone to raise Megumi with after he killed his old man," you really felt like this required more explanation but Suguru kept going like he was talking about the weather. "He was my best friend and I loved him, I didn't mind if he wanted to make me his little housewife. I was tired of dealing with all that shit, anyway."

"So what? It's okay that he manipulated you into marriage, because you love him? That seems fucked up to me."

"Maybe, but I don't mind. You may not understand this, but I came from the middle of nowhere before I met Satoru. I was poor, I had nothing going for me except I was smart and was willing to do whatever work I could get, and I also happened to be the only out gay person I had ever met." You winced in sympathy and he sighed before shaking out his long, glossy hair.

"Besides, you're missing the point. You can either hold on to your false illusion of independence and move through life at the will of people and institutions bigger and more powerful than you," he says and gives you a pointed look. "Or you can choose to put your life in the hands of someone who can stand up to those institutions and people in your name."

"It just seems like picking your poison to me," but you can see what he means in spite of yourself. Years of shitty exes, jobs that exploited your labor, a life that had been harder than you wanted and at the end of the day an apartment empty of anyone to go back to. What did you really want here?

"Well I love Satoru, I know he loves me and Megumi, and that there is nothing and no one that he wouldn't face in order to protect us. What else could I want?"

Before you can answer his question, the same one you had asked yourself. Megumi calls out he's hungry and Suguru tells him they are going home. Both boys start to run over to the two of you.

"Just think about it. Soon it won't be your choice at all."

"Why are you really telling me this?" you can't help but ask and he looks at you.

"Because I think it should be your choice. They may be gods among men, but that doesn't mean they have to rule us." He gives one last calculated smile that sends shivers down your spine. "Having the ear of a god gives you a lot more than just a pretty ring, if you use it right."

Suguru and Megumi wave when they leave and Yuuji grabs your hand as the two of you make your way back home.

"Megumi's mom is so nice!"

"Yeah," you say a little distracted. But with every step towards your apartment, you become more sure of what you want and that gives you a sense of calm you'd been missing since Sukuna came carving his own path into your life. "He was lovely."

Phase 3: Girlboss

Sukuna looked at the ceiling of your apartment, which was just raining down water, and then looked at you.

"You said you woke up and it was just like this?"

He tried not to sound incredulous but damn, you must sleep like the dead. It was like the a fucking typhoon in here.

Your eyes teared up a little and you tugged at the baggy t-shirt you were wearing, which just brought his attention to how it barely reached your thighs and were you even wearing panties-

"I just don't know what to do Sukuna, do you think there's something wrong with the pipes?"

Sukuna tried his best to make eye contact with you and maybe if he'd been paying better attention, he would have seen your eyes were shining with victory, not tears, but alas he was only a man.

"Yeah, it looks like a pipe burst upstairs. That apartment has been empty forever, useless super must have not done anything to make sure it was good for winter."

You nodded and then let out a big sigh that managed to nearly drown out the water. "What if I can't stay in the apartment? Where am I going to live?"

Sukuna shook his head and wiped away a tear on your cheek. "Let me go check it out upstairs before you freak out, okay?" He took his key out and handed it to you. "Just go wait in my apartment okay, I'll let you know what I find."

You nod and Sukuna leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead before heading upstairs to the vacant apartment. The door is unlocked, Sukuna assumed to make it easier for prospective tenants to check it out.

As soon as Sukuna gets to the bathroom he sees the problem. A pipe is leaking. It seemed careless for the super to let it get to this point, but it wouldn't be hard to fix. In fact, Sukuna doesn't even have to go back to his apartment for any tools. A toolkit is stashed under the sink, next to where the pipe is leaking. Sukuna grabs a wrench and it doesn't take more than a minute to tighten the pipe up.

"Weird," Sukuna says but whatever. Not his job to critique shitty workmanship in a building he doesn't own at 3 in the morning. As Sukuna puts the wrench back, he notices the kit looks a lot like the little starter kit you have in your own apartment.

The super should really have better materials.

Sukuna returns back to his apartment to see you pacing across his living room and you just look so lost that he can't help but pull you into his arms. "It's fine, I fixed it. We'll just dry out your apartment and I can call someone to come look at it in the morning."

"What if it's not fixable? What if I have to move out-"

"You're leaving!"

Sukuna looks over your head to see Yuuji standing there, the little boy probably woken up by all the movement this late at night.

"No, no one's leaving Yuuji," he said but Yuuji's eyes still filled with tears anyway and you seemed stressed as well.

"I don't know, I might have to if there's any permanent damage."

Yuuji is actually crying now and you seem on the brink too, so Sukuna holds out his arms and you both crowd in, your face now hidden in his t-shirt.

"Even if something is wrong, you'll always have a place with us. It's all going to be fine." He held both of his precious people to him, unaware that he wasn't the only one smiling. "Don't worry."

Yeah, you weren't worried.

But, maybe Sukuna should be.

this took a weirdly long time, it maybe was meant to be broken up more, but hope everyone enjoys. next up is the closing arc of my singlemom! series.

the Suguru scene was the hardest thing I've written for this page and it got way more serious than I thought it would but it was the first scene I thought of for this story.

[meo-on-prairie]

Deserve Better

Prompt: After a shitty breakup, involving a douchebag of an ex, who makes you realize he never loved you to begin with. You went to your best friends for comfort, but instead of telling you “you deserve better”, they show you the best you deserve. 

Word count: 1786

Tags: FLUFF, a tablespoon of Angst, hurt and comfort, Gojo and Getou being sweetest boys, satosugu established, satorugu x reader not yet, mention of: manipulation and love bombing.

Rambling: This is an extremely self-indulgence fic, heavily inspired by my shitty ex lmao. I just wanna be sandwich between Gojo and Getou to comfort my angry heart :((. This is a mini series, I wanna able to make this series to be compose of a bunch of stand-alone fics that merge together. This is my first time writing after a long while so… 

//////

“He was a pathetic liar!” you shout as soon as Suguru opens the door. Tears are streaming down your faces and you can’t seem to make them stop. The sight of your face full of anger and sorrow quite nearly broke Suguru’s heart. Oh, how he wished he could erase your pain. Not make your pain go away, no, he wanted to erase it from your life completely.

Satoru walks toward the door after hearing the loud commotion, “what did he do this time?” he said knowing exactly who was responsible for your tears. With all honesty, Satoru is only asking for your sake, if he could have it his way, violence is always the answer.

Satoru and Suguru are used to this, it’s been 2 years of this clockwork. Ever Since you start dating your pathetic boyfriend, Anthon, it been a cycle of you venting to them about your relationship problem, them telling you to break up with the fucker, and you “work it out” with the douchebag, who can only tell lies and empty promises, the next day and all is good for about 1 month. It’s the same cycle of them clearly seeing that you are being manipulated, yet unable to do anything. But then again, what can they do? They’re only your friends, nothing more even if they want to be more, and as friends, the only thing they can do is be there for you.

Anthon was your first love, your glasses were not tinted, it was dyed rose-pink. You loved him with everything you got, always there to support him mentally, emotionally, and even sometimes financially. In return, he would love-bomb you with constant, nonstop, overly cheesy affectionate words. He also made a lot of promises to you: of marriage, of spoiling you, of being a better man for you, of being faithful to you; all of which are empty and meaningless in hindsight. They’re so meaningless in fact that it led you to break-up with him 2 weeks ago.

You were tired of his empty words, so you laid down your boundary, you told him you would never want to marry someone who refuses to find a job to support themselves. His answer? “Why can’t you be nicer about these things? Your words cut deep”. Anthon was a man of nothing, he had nothing but his words, and even then he couldn't even keep them. But you loved him, so you put it all aside, all his actions, all his shortcomings, his unwillingness to change for himself; you put it all aside and waited with baited breath, surely, surely…. Surely he’ll do as he said. He never did. 

“Come in first, the night is cold, I don’t want you to get sick” Suguru ushers you through the door and into their apartment. As Suguru guided you toward their living room, Satoru went into the kitchen to grab some tissues, water, and something for you to eat your feelings away. 

As soon as your body touched the soft velvet material of their couch, you crumbled into Suguru’s arms. He pulls you in closer to his body as yours shakes and heaves, you two sit like that for what feels like an eternity as you let the tears that carry your pain and sorrows fall from your eyes. Your hands balls up Suguru’s shirt as you cry in his embrace, you try to control your sob but it only makes your body shakes harder, almost hyperventilating.

“Shhhh, take your time, let it out. I’m here… we’re here… we’re not goin’ anywhere”

“He said he loves me! He said he wanted to marry me! And not even 2 weeks after our breakup, he’s getting his dick wet and telling another girl he loves her!” you choked out in anguish, still in denial that any of this is real.

“How did you find out about that?” Satoru asked, carrying a tray full of food; after hearing your sobs, he decided that a few snacks wasn’t going to cut it. 

“Because the fucker doesn’t even have the decency to keep it private, he been posting her all over his social media!” you swipe out your phone in frustration, pulling up Anthon’s account to show your two best friends the picture of your ex and the girl sitting on his lap, kissing. 

They both make a face when you show them the picture, “gross” they said in unison as Satoru places the tray on the table and sits down on your other side.

“I’m just so angry, I can’t believe I wasted 2 years loving someone who never was truthful to me! How can I be so stupid?” your tears are boiling hot, they feel like acid on your skin.

“Hey, hey, look at me, you’re not stupid for simply loving someone.” Satoru cups your face with his hands, nudging you to face him, his thumbs gently wiping away your tears. You close your eyes and feel the warmth of his hands. It’s comforting to be held so gently.

“That’s right, don’t shame yourself for being strong enough to love someone with all you got. That’s a strength, not a weakness.” Suguru agrees, pulling a couple of tissues from the box and handing it to you. 

You take the tissues from him to wipe away the tears and blow your nose, it was getting a little hard to breathe from crying, “Thank you… It just hurt realizing that even though I loved him, he never loved me; at least, I don’t think someone who loves me would go out of their way to hurt me like this. Him posting her and rubbing it in my face not even 2 weeks later makes me feel like… I just wasn't worth loving…”

“You’re right, someone that loves you wouldn’t hurt you like he did. But that doesn’t mean you’re unlovable. To us, you’re worth all the love this world has to offer…” Suguru whispers, placing his hand on your shoulder, and he means it. God, does he mean it. Satoru can see it in his partner’s eyes, the same feelings he has.

Satoru and Suguru have loved each other deeply since they were kids, but they always feel something is missing in their relationship. When you walt into their life when they were 15 through the door call “physic group project”, they thought something was wrong with them. They still very clearly love each other, their love is still burning, but their hearts forget how to beat when you smile at them.

How can they not fall for you? You’re kind, so kind you would push aside your shyness and discomfort to help those that need it. You’re intelligent, you quite literally carried them through that physics group project. And dear god, the way you just fit perfectly into their dynamic makes them realize very quickly that they desperately want you to be a part of their life. So desperately, they couldn’t bring themselves to tell you about their feelings in fear of scaring you away from them forever.

“Tell you what? Let’s watch some true crime documentary that you like so much since you’re secretly a sociopath, maybe they’ll give you the inspiration of what to do for revenge?” Satoru said with a smirk.

“If inspiration striked you, we’ll be your executioners.” Suguru added, smiling in relief seeing that you're feeling better after letting it all out. You let out a small giggle and nod. 

Satoru turns on the TV and searches for “Unsolved” while Suguru goes to grab the three of you a blanket. When Suguru comes back with the blanket, you get comfortable cuddling between the two of them on the couch. Between Satoru’s jokes about how if he was the detective case wouldn’t have gone cold, and Suguru’s soft chuckles of ‘sure babe’ at his boyfriend’s comment,you start to feel a lot better. 

You have always felt the most at home with them. It felt natural to be with them, Satoru’s humor brings laughter into your day, Suguru’s gentleness makes you feel safe. They ground you. You’re starting to wonder why you were even with the dirtbag when you have best friends who show you how you should be treated. But before you can think more on that, drowsiness takes over you.

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep. With how hard you were crying and the emotional turmoil you experienced, it would be more surprising if you stayed awake. Satoru looks over to the sight of your sleeping face. He squeezed Suguru’s hand he been holding behind you on the headrest of the couch.

Suguru looks over at Satoru and notices where his gaze was directed at. “I don’t want to see her like that again. She deserves all the sunshines life has got to offer, not heartbreak” Satoru whispered softly. 

“Do… you think⸻” Suguru started

“Yeah.” 

It’s a silent agreement between them. They’re done with watching you on the sideline. They’re done with seeing you in pain. They don’t want to be afraid of losing you anymore if it means they have to leave your happiness in the hands of some other dudes that’s not them. In the hands of someone that doesn’t know how to cherish it like they do. 

Suguru gives Satoru’s hand 3 long squeezes, I love you. A soft and silent affection flows between them. You always joke that they’re each other's twin flames due to how they seem to be sharing the same soul; their ideology, way of thinking, even how they feel. They’re so similar despite different personalities it’s uncanny. But they think that if they’re each other’s twin flame, then you would be their soulmate. 

They let go of each other's hands so Satoru can carry you into their guest’s room. Well, they call it that but the color and decorations they have in it are all catered to your liking, plus no one beside you ever stays the night anyway. 

Suguru opens the door to the room for Satoru. They laid you down and tucked you in. 

Suguru went into the bathroom to get a damp face towel. He softly wipes away your streaks of tears so you can sleep comfortably without feeling the stickiness from your tears. 

They closed the door as quietly as possible so they don’t wake you, not before glancing at you one last time. 

Looking at each other, eyes full of love and determination, they silently vow to each other. They’re going to make you fall, sweep you right off your feet. They’ll treat you like you’re their most prized treasure. You’ll fall for them so hard, you’ll forget you’ve ever loved anyone but them.

[bunni-v1]

Can I please request a reader that has been so traumatised by what’s happened in the Scarabia book that they actively avoid the entire dorm and have Ace and Deuce as their guard dogs (I love those two and I really love how you wrote them as the readers protective besties during the Malleus break up fic). Like how would Kalim, Jamil and Adeuce react to that?

I find it really cathartic when I read fics that have the characters feeling guilty after what they put the reader through whilst the reader is getting support from their friends.

(Something I’m really salty about in twst is how no one ever holds the overblots accountable for what they’ve done. I full on agreed with Ace when he told Riddle that crying wasn’t going to erase all that he did before the overblot and I literally fell in love with him when he punched Riddle after he insulted us/Yuu/the player. I understand that those boys are traumatised and are in desperate need of therapy and overblotting was the only way for their problems to be solved but the treatment they inflicted on Yuu/us was downright hellish. Azul made us homeless and tore us away from the only family/comfort we had in twst (the ghosts) and then sent the tweels to terrorise us in our attempts to reclaim said home and free our friends from servitude; Jamil kidnapped us, hypnotised us, locked us up in a room against our will, isolated us from Adeuce and took away any contact we had with them, forced us on long marches in the dessert and turned a blind eye to our clear suffering during that time; Vil acted like a literal demon to not only us (and then almost made my Deucey cry) but everyone else as well and that was before he decided to try to murder an innocent teenager. Like why does no one understand just how much this can damage an actual child who has no magic and has been stripped from their home and family?)

Reader Terrified of Scarabia After Jamil’s Overblot

TW: PTSD; Mental Breakdown; Disassociation; Mentions of Abuse; Kalim and Jamil are tragic

Info: Ace, Deuce x Reader (platonic or romantic); Kalim, Grim x Reader (platonic); Jamil and Reader (neutral)

🍓I love requests like this tbh. My own OC sorta has her own grapplings with this stuff that I like to touch upon, and I’m excited I get the chance to talk about it here :) THIS IS LONG AS HELL BTW(like this intro here lol). I had a lot of fun writing it :))) I added a cute, shorter little grim part, because our little guy deserves more lovin’ than he gets. I also decided to do a cute little (read: long) intro, and then head cannons since you didn’t specify for either. I hope you enjoy this style, and I’m sorry for the wait <3

You had been through… a lot in your time at Night Raven College. Being thrown into a completely different world would’ve been enough, but it seems that the great seven thought you needed some extra troubles. You weren’t sure how you could’ve encored their wrath, but you were, and you were chugging along despite it all.

First was the attack from the phantom in the mines — something that should’ve been foreshadowing for what was to come. You didn’t even do anything to be in this position. It was Ace Grim and Deuce, but you got dragged into it all because you were “Grim’s keeper.” You managed to befriend Ace and Deuce though, so it wasn’t so bad.

Second was Riddle with his unending temper and strict rules. Despite everything telling you to just stay out of it, your good-natured heart just couldn’t stop you from helping Ace and Deuce. Nearly dying in the process, you managed to help Riddle and made newfound friends in Heartslabyul. 

Third came Leona, the selfish, stuck-up, lazy no-good prince of the Savannah. You knew he was trouble from the start, and you wanted nothing to do with him or his little lackey Ruggie. Then he hurt Trey, and you couldn’t stand by while he reigned terror on the school. He was a favorable ally to gain in the end, so you could dismiss his actions so long as he kept in his lane.

Fourth was Azul, another student you figured would cause you trouble. With the extra scary Jade and Floyd always tailing him, and that too buttery sweet voice of his, you were determined to keep your distance. Again, however, your friends were in trouble and you couldn’t help but help them. Azul was a broken person, and you could sympathize with his struggles. He even gave you a job at the lounge to help with funding yourself, so he couldn’t be all that bad.

You’d come to dislike the other house wardens out of principle. A pattern had emerged among them, and you weren’t going to fall victim to another horrific overblot. You still had suction cup-shaped bruises on your arm from Azul’s breakdown. Leona had given you more than just a nasty burn from the scalding hot whirlwind of sand he conjured up. The scars Riddle left behind on your face and arms were healed, but they still ached when you touched them. All painful reminders that you could not truly trust anyone here, that anyone could lose control of themselves and hurt you. Yet…

When you met Jamil in the kitchen, he seemed so kind to both you and Grim. He seemed so genuine and honest. Maybe it was wishful thinking, or maybe it was you missing your friends, but you wanted to trust him despite your gut feeling to be distrustful. Could everyone here really be that bad? Certainly not. Ace Deuce and Jack went here as well… so surely… surely…

The alarm bells didn’t ring at all during the dinner, and Kalim — despite everything you’ve been through — seemed so nice, if not a little overbearing. You could see the tiredness on Jamil's face, and you had the kindness in your heart to express your sympathies. And oh, Jamil so humbly assured you that he was fine. Filling your head with little half-truths and ideas that Kalim had been overworking not only him but the other students. That he had been acting “off” as of late.

You saw Kalim’s sudden shifts in personality. How he would be so sweet, so kind and soft. How he made sure you were enjoying yourself, made sure you ate to your heart's content, made sure you were comfortable in your uniform and your sleeping quarters. Then he would be yelling at everyone, demanding unspeakable exercises and work.

If Ace were there with you, he would’ve called bullshit. Still, you trusted Jamil to start. You actually believed he was kind and had good intentions. You believed that Kalim was the real evil here.

Then he wouldn’t let you and Grim leave, and the students were suddenly so aggressive toward you. He took everything you had and stripped you of your dignity and pride until there was nothing left but fight.

Truly, you didn’t realize it was him that was the issue until he was over-blotting in front of your eyes. It wasn’t an unusual sight to you at that point, you’d defeated multiple overblots and befriended these people. You don’t know what it was. The way you’d trusted him. The fact that you felt truly alone without Ace and Deuce. This one broke you…

You just didn’t feel a damn thing after he was saved. You felt no pity, no joy, no relief. Absolutely nothing, an empty void in your chest. Even as everyone around you celebrated, there was nothing. You stood watching everyone parade around with glee blankly, unable to speak to anyone around you. Just listening to the voices that had begun to mesh together.

You didn’t show anything until Ace and Deuce showed up. Something about their faces, the way they were looking over you, the way they seemed so scared for your wellbeing… it made you cry. It made you cry and cry and cry until you couldn’t make any noise and then you cried some more. They had to drag you away from everyone because you just couldn’t quite stand upright when Deuce would try to get you to walk away with him…

The days after were blurry. You remained holed up in your dorm, unable to really move from your bed. Ace and Deuce stayed in their own separate room next to yours. You could hear them talking through the walls about how worried they were about you, how angry they were at Jamil, how angry they were at themselves for not getting there in time to help you. If you’d had the energy, you would’ve scolded them for being so hard on themselves, but you could hardly speak in the first place.

They cared for you as best as they could. Deuce attempted to cook the recipes Trey sent him over magicam, making sure you ate and stayed hydrated. Occasionally you’d hear Azul downstairs, and Deuce would give you something nice from the Monstrolounge — free of charge, he promised. You could tell that he wasn’t sleeping much in his worry over you. 

Grim remained at your side as loyal as a dog and boasting that he’d keep you safe, but you knew he was scared too. He proclaimed that he would keep you safe, but you could feel him trembling at every sudden noise. You had to comfort him from the horrific nightmares he was having. That was okay, though, he was family and you were his.

Ace was the only one who really kicked your ass into gear. He’d tug you out of bed and into the shower as people began to return from winter break. Made you go on walks around campus to show you that you were completely safe. Eventually, he’d been able to get you to visit Azul to thank him directly for his kindness. He wasn’t soft or gentle with you, that wasn’t in his character at all, but he made sure you felt safe enough to return to classes before they started.

They both worked hard to help you recover, but you were still so afraid…

Ace

-Ace isn’t exactly the most comforting person, and he never claimed to be. 

-He’s not good at reassuring people, but he’s good at being honest, and if he was being honest he knew that you were safe around him and Deuce.

-He walks you to and from classes, spends most of his nights in your dorm doing whatever the hell you’d like him to do without complaint, distracts you when you’re freaking out, and most importantly keeps that snake as far away from you as possible.

-If he was being honest with himself, which was his whole thing, he didn’t really get your reaction to everything. 

-You’ve all been through this before, it's textbook at this point. A guy does some shady shit, a guy gets caught doing said shady shit, a guy overblots, and you defeat a guy with the power of friendship. Boom. Done.

-He’d get it more if you were completely alone, but grim and the octanivelle freaks were there! Kalim too, and he’s always seemed pretty nice. Not the best company, sure, but still you had people helping you out.

-When he looks at your face and sees how tired you are, he forgets the logical stuff. All he can hear are those horrific sobs you let out when you saw him and how you nearly ripped his uniform in half with how tightly you were holding him and Deuce.

-If that was too much for him, he can’t imagine how badly it must’ve felt for you. How bad it must still feel.

-So screw what he thinks, he’s gotta make sure you’re taking care of yourself.

-He doesn’t ask you how you’re feeling, he knows it's not good. He focuses on keeping your mind off of everything that might trigger you.

-Reroutes your paths to classes to avoid Jamil and Kalim completely. Sure it’s longer and more annoying, but it's better than you going dead silent and shutting him and everyone else out again.

-He does everything in his power and you’re doing so well… and then the VDC happens. 

-You’re given the title of manager and you’re forced to be around these people who terrify you. 

-Vil won’t budge on anything and sevens Ace wishes Rook would let him try out a little target practice with the (illegal) bow and arrows he’s got in his room.

-He keeps himself between you and Jamil at all costs. He won’t let Jamil bother you at all, not that he was trying in the first place.

-The real issue is Kalim, which sounds crazy, but it’s true.

-Kalim is so… forceful. A pretty strong word, but honestly the only one Ace can think to use.

-He’s really nice, really sweet, seriously such a good guy… but you’re still unsettled by him.

-There are several times during practices that Ace has to yell at him to just leave you alone.

-Sure, it gets him a pretty big scolding from Vil, but he couldn’t care less honestly. He doesn’t wanna risk you having a panic attack because Vil doesn’t wanna be a responsible leader.

-You confide in Ace a lot. How you really want to move past all this, but Crowley won’t provide you with any form of therapy, and you’re just not ready to forgive Jamil or Kalim for what happened.

-He won’t tell you this, but hearing you talk like this breaks his heart.

-You’re normally so strong, so brave, so confident… and now you’re absolutely broken.

-He’s proud of you for putting on a brave face to placate Vil, but he’s angry you have to.

-Surprisingly, though, you do begin to warm up to Kalim. Just a little. 

-It's only when Ace, Deuce, or Grim is around, but it's a really big step forward in his eyes.

-You’re getting back to where you used to be little by little.

-He still won’t give you or Jamil the chance to reconcile, but you honestly couldn’t be more grateful for that.

Deuce

-Deuce is incredibly different from Ace in how he handles everything.

-He’s a delinquent, sure, but he’s a Mama’s boy at heart. Therefore, he’s much more equipped to help you emotionally through all this than Ace.

-Where Ace is the harsh pushing force to keep you going, Deuce is the calm where you can rest and cry your heart out for as long as you need.

-As I mentioned, he makes sure you’re eating and drinking and at least speaking to someone.

-He asks Trey for recipes without leading on to what’s going on and asks Cater for advice on helping someone feel safe after a traumatic experience.

-It’s not subtle, but it helps.

-He handles making all your meals, even though he isn’t the best cook, he absolutely puts all his heart and soul into everything he makes.

-A good portion of his days are dedicated to cooking for you, and he gets pretty damn good at it by the time classes start up again!

-With Sam’s shop closed, he has to go into town to get the ingredients he needs, and then he has to spend hours preparing and serving the food.

-He watches you eat, encouraging you that everything is safe and that he made it all by himself by hand. 

-He doesn’t question why things ended up this way for you, he wonders how can I help?

-And he does help, a lot, more than just with food.

-Sometimes, late at night, he hears you crying alone in your room. He gets up from his own bed, quietly enters your room, and holds you and grim while you both tremble in fear.

-It makes him so mad. Mad that this happened to you. Mad that Jamil did this in the first place. Mad that he couldn’t help more than he already is. 

-Like Ace, he accompanies you to all your classes and makes sure to stay close to your side if any Scarabia students are around.

-He’ll go anywhere you need him to, and if you’re not comfortable being alone and he’s got plans, you’re invited to join him. No matter what anyone else thinks.

-Things get better little by little. You make strides in your ability to be independent again and you’re smiling and joking around like you used to. You even agreed to try out for the VDC with him and Ace… a big mistake.

-He didn’t expect to actually get in, let alone get in with Jamil and Kalim. If it were just that he could’ve been civil, but no, you had to be dragged in too… because that’s always how it works out.

-He has to hold himself from getting in Jamil’s face more than once because just him looking at you is enough to send you into a clear panic attack.

-Deuce does his best to comfort you between all of this, though. Being your shoulder to cry on and trying his best to be your protector… it's just hard. Hard to see you like that, and hard to keep his cool for your sake.

-It's worse with Kalim because both you and Deuce know he means well. You both know he wants to reconcile, but you’re not quite ready.

-Deuce helps the confrontation with the two feel a bit easier though. He acts as a mediator between you and Kalim, and eventually, he’s proud to say he helped you trust Kalim just a little bit.

-Jamil… both of you could use some work, but Deuce is more willing to hear you out on him than Ace is.

Grim

-Grim was there with you the whole time. He understands the fear you’re feeling deeper than anyone else.

-He could just tell something was wrong the second he saw your face. Despite all the celebrations, he was focused on making sure you were at least a little okay.

-He tried to talk to you, tried to make you feel okay, but the only comfort he could offer you was letting you hold him while you cried.

-He could still hear your cries, and they made him want to cry too. He almost did, but he was your guard cat — he had to be strong for you.

-Unlike Ace and Deuce, he never left your side. Not a second. He was there with you from the moment you were unwittingly kidnapped to the sleepless nights in your dorm to the horror of finding out you’d have to work closely with Jamil for the VDC.

-He made his distaste for him very known, sure to make a snarky comment at least once every time he saw him. 

-It was so bad, at one point, that Vil had to give him a stern talking to. He didn’t stop regardless.

-You are Grim’s best friend, the only family he has, and Jamil hurt you in unspeakable ways. He couldn’t just sit back and be okay with that.

-He’s really such a good guy.

Kalim

-Kalim means well. With his whole heart, he has the best intentions… just not the best execution.

-See, he didn’t notice initially that anything was really wrong the whole time.

-He didn’t suspect Jamil at all. In fact, he thought that you were really enjoying your stay in Scarabia, you seemed so happy and chatty up until Jamil flipped things on their head.

-Call him air-headed, but he was caught up in his own whirlwind of emotions at the time. You know, the whole betrayal of his supposed best friend took a toll on him too.

-It wasn’t until you were sobbing your throat raw that he realized something was really wrong.

-The look of sheer terror on your face when you made eye contact with him sent shivers up his spine.

-He knew that look. He’d worn that look on his own face too many times as a young child.

-Believe it or not, without Jamil’s intervention, he knew to keep his distance. He knew he had to give you time to adjust.

-Then a few days turned into weeks and weeks turned into a little over a month, and he had hardly seen you around campus.

-You are avoiding your normal route to class, and when he did see you he was also greeted by the harsh glares of your good friends.

-He understood if you’d never want to talk to him ever again, honestly. He couldn’t blame you. You were more headstrong than him, after all.

-Still, when the VDC came around… he was hopeful. Truly he was hoping that something would give.

-He would talk to you in hopes of showing you that he meant no harm, but Ace or Deuce or even Grim would shove their way between the two of you.

-Several times Jamil had to tell him to knock it off because “It’s not worth forcing.”

-Still, he wanted you to know he felt bad. He felt horrible.

-In a very un-Kalim-like move, he quietly asks you if you can speak with him. Alone. But in a crowded enough area that you wouldn’t feel threatened.

-He didn’t expect you to accept it, he wouldn’t have blamed you at all. But you said yes. 

-You showed up, with Grim by your side, which was fine. He earned some apologies too.

-He poured his heart out to you, apologizing for things that he couldn’t even control. In turn, he listened to you rant about how scared you were, how angry you were, how you wished you were any of these things.

-And after that, things improved. Slowly, but surely. You became more comfortable around him, and you spoke to him again.

-Sure, you wouldn’t be caught dead at one of Scarabia’s parties, but you considered him a friend. 

-That’s all he could ask for.

Jamil

-Jamil is the monster in your story. 

-He’s the evil guy who kidnapped, manipulated and lied to you.

-He’s the one who used his misplaced anger as an excuse to hurt others.

-He’s the boogyman who made you endure days of long and hard training, just because he could.

-Of course, he felt bad. What he did was unspeakable, but he was more concerned with how his reputation would last after the overblot.

-More concerned with it not getting out for the safety of his family.

-Even with you sobbing, he just thought you were being dramatic in all honesty. You have a reputation already, he knew you’d been through this whole thing before.

-It didn’t really strike him how badly it affected you.

-He didn’t notice how you switched paths, how you were never in the same area as him for long, and the glares of your friends never once phased him.

-Even Ace’s snarky comments during basketball didn’t bother him for a second.

It wasn’t until he accidentally bumped into you in the hallway, and he saw the look on your face that he realized.

-The terror in your eyes, the way you shrunk back as if he would strike you. It was the same way his parents acted around the Asim’s.

-If he were a more insane man, he might’ve found it liberating, but it wasn’t.

-He had become what he hated to you, he had done what he hated to you. 

-Jamil was not only your monster, but he was his own.

-He steers clear of you and keeps as much distance as possible for both your sakes.

-He couldn’t handle someone looking at him like that, and he was sure you couldn’t handle the sight of him after what he did.

-Still, this is NRC, and luck is never on anyone's side here.

-Both of you are forced into a position where you cannot escape the other, you have to learn to live with the awful pits in your stomachs.

-He keeps Kalim away until you both are on good terms, then he simply watches quietly.

-He won’t apologize, he won’t antagonize, he won’t speak unless spoken to.

-You two never truly recover your small lasting friendship, but you do make amends with each other.

-During the trip to the scalding sands, you get to meet Najma, whom he’s confided in about ‘accidentally upsetting a classmate’.

-You get to have a good talk with her, and it makes you really realize some things about Jamil.

-You realize he’s just as broken as you, just as tired as you, and that he feels the most immense amount of guilt for hurting you.

-You, being you, find it in your soul to forgive him.

-Nothing really changes between you. The guilt is still there, and the fear still shakes you to your core, but you both have closure.

-In a situation like this, closure is the best grace a person can ever have.

[daengtokki]

part two // serial killer!Kim Seungmin/afab reader

WC: 12.7k

RATING: mature/explicit/mdni—contains: sex, oral sex, brief suicide mention, strangulation, manipulation, death/murder

SYNOPSIS: Seungmin floats through life alone, haunted by his memories—keeping himself under control, and quieting his mind the only way he knows how…killing and watching the life leave his victims eyes. When you cross his path on a morning hunt, something new (something forgotten) starts to move inside of him, leading both of you on a path to confront the unspeakable past.

˗ˋˏ♡ Thank you for the comments and likes and reblogs on part one. It means so much. Please consider reblogging/tagging if you like what you read! ˎˊ˗

And a very big thank you to @thackery-blinks for putting up with me and letting me bounce ideas off of her brain ♡

[ ML — DEITY MASTERLIST ]

Seungmin’s world goes quiet, calm…but it's only been a few hours, and he hasn’t yet left the cold emptiness of his bed. He hasn’t even attempted to crawl out of the hollow feeling he created for himself. The silence of the apartment feels different this time.

Inside of his head is a different story—you’ve upended him in more ways than one, and it may take a while to get himself back on two steady feet.

Nearly dying in his bed, coming back, being held, for hours, against your will…two out of three are new for him. And the sheer terror when he realized what he did, looking at your lifeless body—he hasn’t felt fear like that since he was a kid. There was no sense of relief, and there was certainly no quiet afterward. Right now, like last night, his mind is screaming at him, just not in the usual sense; he can’t figure out what you’ve done, because you’ve done nothing—you kept yourself at a distance, you enticed him (teased might be too unkind a word for you, he decides), and you didn’t deserve what little death you did have in his bed. Somehow, you’ve made yourself as much of a mystery as he’s tried to make himself, but he’s not as much of a mystery anymore...he gave too much of himself, and now he's going to pay for it.

You left your phone behind when you ran from him, not surprisingly, and later that afternoon, he somehow found the energy to leave the apartment. He walked to your building and left it with a note right outside your door. Whether or not you’re still there is unknown to him, but he wouldn’t be surprised if you were gone already—completely gone, on your way home, never to be seen by him again.

Seungmin knows the voice in charge will be returning soon, and he’ll fail if he doesn’t find some focus. He’ll really, truly fuck things up, and as much as he doesn’t want to blame you, it is you. He can’t think about you anymore; not today, not tonight.

/ / /

Showered and wrapped up tight in a blanket, you sit at your desk and stare at a blank computer screen. The email you started and stopped four times is sitting at a whole ten words, because you know you need to quit—you have to back out of this job and get back home. There’s no question about that. Nobody will believe what happened to you last night, so calling the police seems silly, and telling anyone else about it feels impossible right now. There is no proof of anything except that you went home with him, willingly. And you definitely can’t tell anyone you died, or at least stopped breathing, and came back during rough sex, because it’s stupid. It’s not believable. You’re still not entirely sure if it even happened. All you really know for certain is that you were outside yourself before finally taking that breath and seeing his face. You heard voices, but not his. You were in the dark, except for a few pinpricks of light. You felt your lungs fill up, once…twice…three times. And then you were back. You guess that’s what drowning feels like; the burning in your chest, the weightlessness, your brain misfiring and sending all the wrong signals to your eyes and ears and nerves.

It isn’t until later, after shutting your brain off and staring at the tv for hours, that you finally remember that you need to eat. You discover your phone right outside your door (should you be worried that he knows exactly where you live?). You knew that you left it on his bar, but you had no desire to try and retrieve it. It felt, and it still feels, like the least important thing in the world, but you’re relieved to have it back. Seungmin left a note taped to it, and you feel a little twinge of excitement (which you’re still trying to chalk up as leftover adrenaline...a little bit of curiosity) at what he could possibly have to say. That’s easy now, in the relative safety of your own apartment, so as soon as you can sit down with your dinner and a very strong drink, you rip it open and read.

You don’t get very far before something small and purple slips out onto your lap. It looks like a pressed flower. It is, and you know it’s heliotrope because it’s everywhere around your mother’s garden. The unmistakable fragrance is still a little obvious, even in its dried state. The addition might seem corny, but you don’t hate it—it’s an interesting choice of flower on his part. There are more inside the folded paper, and you let them fall onto you as you read…

Thank you for not throwing this in the trash.

I know I won't get to see you again, and typically, I wouldn't care or think much about my passing moments with strangers. Everyone is forgettable, and I can't figure out why you are not. I'm still very confused as I write out this letter —but I don't think I've been very forgettable for you, either. I ruined that last night.

He’s cocky, and he knows he’s absolutely right about him not being forgettable.

You don’t have to see me again, but maybe we can talk, and I can explain myself a little better. You saw a piece of me that you shouldn’t have, in my bedroom…in my drawer, and I know it seems impossible to explain, and that’s because it is. But if you’ll let me, I’ll try.

The letter is signed with a cute, loopy S.

The dried flowers are scooped up and placed next to your untouched plate. Eating, you decide, should come first. After that, you can dwell unnecessarily on the words of your would-be killer. What else could you possibly do? You know how your brain works, and you know how you are when you're alone, and lonely.

However, you do read back through the few texts you exchanged. You also check yourself in the mirror—there’s a bruise beginning to bloom on your shoulder, and two scratches next to your mouth where he held. The soreness in your thighs brings the memory of him to the front of your mind, over and over, and it works backwards from there—Seungmin holding you, touching you; the look in his eyes from the other side of the bar. There was nothing outwardly threatening about him, just strange. Strange, quiet, a little bit awkward. How easily could your mind gloss over something much weirder when a man that beautiful gives you that kind of undivided attention?

Now your mind goes forward to his touch; his hand caressing your aching chest, his soft voice, like if he's not careful, his words might finish killing you. He spoke far too gently, and he kissed much too deeply and eagerly for you to forget. And you haven't exactly forgotten that he never hurt you, at least not after your little journey. Maybe he messed up his original plan, and then had to do damage control...but that makes no sense. Seungmin could've finished the job easily, anytime he wanted to. If he wanted to suffocate you, he'd have done it. If Seungmin wanted to kill you, you wouldn't be here right now.

More memories return to you, very slowly. Slow down? I’m hurting you? He was attentive during sex, initially, even if he was rough...so what happened? He did slow down, tried to make you more comfortable, and he succeeded. You begged him not to stop. You were loud. Seungmin was right there when you woke up, holding onto you. Stay awake...I'm sorry. The frazzled girl looking back at you in the mirror is almost unrecognizable right now. You can't get his face out of your mind; his voice, his kiss, his big black eyes that could swallow you whole. Please don't cry.

Was he convincing enough for a text? Should you call him? Are you really this fucked up right now? You know you're being stupid and irrational, so you decide to be a little bit smart and sleep on it; wait and see how you feel in the morning.

It doesn't help much. You dream about him; his eyes staring into you, through you, eating away at you again...just like when he had you beneath him. You reach out and sweep the hair from of his eyes, and your fingertips pick up the cold, clammy sweat from his forehead. He speaks, but you don't understand a word he says. He holds a dirt-streaked hand out to you, and with no hesitation, you take it, and then you're back in the warm, wet darkness. No voices this time, just muddy, squishy footfalls getting closer and closer.

When you wake, you're damp with sweat, and you've never felt so cold.

It's risky, but he forgoes the tea tonight, and his little white anxiety pill as well. He's almost out anyway, so he should try and save them until he can get more. It's a mistake, and he suspected that as he finally drifted off; there's been far too much on his mind in the last 24 hours to expect a dreamless sleep...

"appa?"

he hushes him. seungmin can feel a hand close softly around his mouth.

"where is—"

"quiet...get back inside, now"

he trips and falls as he runs, and his knee lands in the muddy ground. the effort it takes to get back up is too much, but a hand grabs the straps of his overalls and pulls...and then pushes, and he's in the mud again. rain starts to fall before he can make it to the porch, but as soon as he reaches the steps...

Out of breath, burning chest. The face of his father, and the wet hand covering his mouth, is still there. He can still feel it. The first thing he does is reach for a pill.

But as soon as he swallows it, his mind wanders back to you. Are you still in Seoul? You've had plenty of time to book a flight, repack, and leave. Seungmin wonders if you ever opened your door and found the note, if you even bothered to read it if you did, if you got the dried flowers he took from his music box just for you—the flowers he'll have to return home to get more of. A stupid addition, you probably thought. A desperate attempt at romance.

The phone buzzes under his pillow, and he knows it’s just his usual alarms and reminders. Today he has to get up, get dressed, and work. He has to get his mind back on track—he has to, there is no other way for him. There is nothing else, aside from prison, or ending things on his own. He pulls it out and looks at it with one eye open, flips on his back, and stares. Part of him hoped it would be more than his alarms, and he'd be staring at a new text message from you...an apathetic "okay, I guess we can talk". Seungmin is severely underestimating how much he scared you, though. You were convinced, and you're probably still pretty sure you were going to die in that room. Whether or not he's going to pursue this further is still a big question mark, but he doesn't usually deal in question marks. Everything is either black or white for Seungmin.

If he can't have you, he might just have to kill you.

/ / /

Repacking your things as fast as possible; booking a flight you can afford (work refused to comp you, once you quit with no notice); explaining, or making up a convincing enough story for you mother and sister about the change of plans, has been exhausting, so falling asleep is easy once your head hits the pillow.

seungmin's hand lays softly on your chest, just under your throat. you can feel your slow heartbeat bouncing off of him, you can smell the sweet scent of his room, but that's not where you are. you look up, and then around you...and you see the bedroom of a child, a little boy. there's sunlight coming in through the sheer curtained window, and you can see bushes of yellow and purple flowers poking up into view. he moves closer to you, and speaks quietly...

"i have to go...i have to go take care of things"

"what things?

"you know"

"don't go, please"

you look to him, and he forces a smile. his hand slides up and closes around your throat, but he doesn't squeeze. he moves closer and places a kiss beneath your ear...

This time you wake up slowly, and comfortably. Your hand jumps up to your throat as you work hard to remember every detail, every touch, every word. The dreams you have aren't usually this vivid, and now you've had them two nights in a row—two very different ones; a bad one...well, it could have been worse. You still remember how he looked at you, and the feeling of him under your fingertips; but it was cold and dark. This second one practically gave you butterflies. This dream version of you was in love.

Why is your mind torturing you like this? You come dangerously close to texting him, but all you end up doing is rereading the messages already sent between you.

Seungmin sits and watches right across the street from your building, for hours. He didn't know he had this much patience in him. If he would have done this yesterday morning, he may have had a chance to catch you and follow, but he decided to stay in bed. Still, he has trouble moving.

A few minutes later, it finally pays off. There you are, looking up and down the busy narrow street, arms folded tight over your chest. Seungmin isn't that far from you in this bakery, and if he walks out now, you'll see him, so he waits until you decide what to do. Seeing you right now is actually giving him a nervous stomach, and he hates it...you look uncomfortable, and tired, and sweet; it's difficult keeping his mind where it needs to be. It doesn't help that he hasn't thought of a plan beyond waiting for you to leave your apartment. Should he just follow you, and hope you don't see him and run? That won't work. If he can figure out where you're heading, he can get there first, and run into you like it was just a coincidence.

Before he can finish his plan, you're headed east, and you're walking fast. He just decides to follow as discreetly as possible, which is easy at this time of day, and it only takes ten or so minutes for him to figure out where you might be going. But there's no possible way you're going to his apartment building. You pass by the GS25 where you met each other, and keep going, but you don't make the left turn that would lead to his building. You keep straight, and eventually, Seungmin does figure it out. It's the park he mentioned frequenting, that's where you're going. This is perfect. Even if you're not here to look for him, you're going to find him, but that has to be why you're here. Texting or calling might have felt like too much. Accidently running into him...well, it was an accident. Maybe you won't feel like you're seeking out the man who almost killed you, or purposely bringing him back into your life.

You find an empty bench and sit, look at your phone, look up and around, back to your phone. Still uncomfortable, nervous, tired. Cold, maybe. You didn't dress as warmly as you probably should have. Seungmin tests his patience some more and waits, but you don't move. In fact, you're starting to remind him of himself, sitting and watching, waiting for his next kill. He takes his eyes off of you for a few minutes to get a coffee, and then he prepares to approach. But he's nervous again. He's not used to this feeling. He takes his time walking down the pathway, and when he knows you can see his legs in your downward gaze, he stops.

You look up and keep your face as emotionless as possible, but it's not enough. Seungmin can see your surprise, a little bit of fear, and maybe something else.

"Hi." He keeps his face as neutral as possible, too. "You look cold."

"I'm fine"

"What are you doing here all by yourself?"

"Uhm, I don't have any friends. And isn't this what you do? Sit here alone waiting to pick people off?" You cross your arms over your chest again, and scoot a little further away. "I mean...I'm assuming that's why you come here, if I put the pieces together properly."

"Yes, you're pretty perceptive. But why are you here?"

"Because I couldn't hit send"

"What couldn't you send?" He was right.

Seungmin hears you take in a deep breath and hold it, then slowly let it out in a big cloud of condensation. "I keep having dreams about you."

But he wasn't expecting that.

"Good ones I hope." So you haven't left his mind at all, even in your sleep. You don't reply. "I've been having the same old nightmares. A dream about you would be a nice change."

"One was pretty nice, yeah"

"Is it alright if I sit next to you?"

You nod, but Seungmin still takes his time taking those last few steps and sitting. Once he does, he offers you the hot coffee he's been holding onto, and to his surprise, you take it and sip it carefully. The letter he wrote promised some sort of explanation for what happened that night, and for the things you saw, but he wasn't expecting to have a chance at doing that. He hasn't thought of a single way to explain his drawer, or almost killing you.

“What’s in the syringes, the ones in your murder drawer?”

Murder drawer. Are you reading his mind, or is he just projecting onto you? He looks around, but nobody is close enough to hear the conversation. “A sedative, a light one…for emergencies. That's all.”

“You didn’t use one on me”

“Well, I had…” he stops, and thinks. What he almost says is I had control of the situation, but that doesn’t sound like what you want to hear. It’s also a very obvious lie. “The drug is not fun to come out of, and…what I put you through was bad enough.”

“So who do you use them on? And the knife?”

Seungmin doesn’t know how to answer this. He can’t explain how he picks his victims, because he doesn’t always understand his reasoning. “The ones I can’t control any other way. And I don’t use the knife very often.”

“It’s kind of obvious now that I’m talking to you, but thinking about it yesterday, and the night before…wondering if I was just over-reacting...”

“You’re not, you know what you saw, and you had every reason to be afraid of me”

“So you are…” you can’t finish the question. "This is what you do?"

“Yes”

“Why?”

“It’s hard to explain”

“Why didn’t you kill me?

“I haven’t figured that out yet”

“But you would, if you got another chance…if you had me alone right now, with no witnesses”

“No.” You look around, and Seungmin thinks you’re a little more relaxed now—as relaxed as someone could be in this situation. “I don’t think so.”

“You wanted to before, though. That’s why you spoke to me, and helped me get home.”

“Yeah, that was my original plan”

“I’m assuming you’ve done this before”

“Killed? Yes. Accidentally killed someone and brought them back in a panic? That one is new for me.”

“When’s the last time you did it…killed someone?”

It feels like a regular conversation now, regardless of the subject. Most of the tension is gone from your voice, and you stopped fidgeting with the coffee cup. You still look cold, though.

“The day we met”

Everything goes silent after that. Even the people around you become strangely quiet, as if everyone decided to listen in. Seungmin can see your mind working behind your eyes, but you’re not rushing to speak again. He slides out of his jacket and sets it over your shoulders, and you leave it there.

“Before, or after?”

“After”

“To make up for me?” You fold your legs up onto the bench and disappear into his jacket a little more, and Seungmin smirks.

“Sort of. That's why I was out that morning, things just didn’t go exactly as planned. I’m still glad you showed up, though.”

“Are you saying that because you think it’s what I wanna hear, or because it’s true? I don’t wanna turn you into a cliche, but are you capable of that much…well, liking someone enough to not kill them. I guess you are.”

“I like things. And I feel a lot, maybe too much sometimes.”

"Things?"

"Not people, typically"

"Sorry.” Why are you apologizing to him? Your assumption was a little bit hasty, and rude, but being a murderer is pretty rude, too. The look on his face is just that, though…full of emotion, full of sadness, and confusion. This is exactly how he looked at you that night before you both fell asleep, he just doesn’t know how to express it properly. Maybe he's just mimicking. “Uhm, did I actually die? What happened?”

“I’m not sure, but you weren’t breathing. I talked to you, slapped you…lightly, and panicked a little. After I panicked, I…” he sets his fingers on his lips, and tries to remember what it’s called in English. “…I blew air into your lungs.”

“Three times?”

Seungmin thinks for a second. “Yeah, three breaths…I kissed you after the third time.” Why did he tell you that?

“You kissed me? Why did you kiss me?”

You’re nothing but questions, and Seungmin is not used to getting interrogated like this. He wants to tell the truth, but he also needs to be careful and not scare you off, or be too truthful. It’s a little exhausting.

“I thought that might be my last chance while you were still warm.”

There’s another long silence. Too long. Maybe Seungmin said the wrong thing, even though it is the truth. He wonders if he should get up and leave you alone for a few minutes. But what if he comes back and you’re gone? Was the kiss that strange? Why is he assuming it was the kiss that’s making this awkward? Everything about this is strange for you.

“I think I felt your breath filling my lungs, but I was still somewhere else. Somewhere really dark, and wet. I could feel…outside air around me, it was so heavy."

“Completely dark, like the bedroom?”

“No, there was some light, like little streams of light coming in through holes punched into the walls, between the slats of wood. It was weird, and I remember it very vividly now that I’m talking about it.”

Seungmin doesn’t mention it feeling like his nightmares, but it does. And it can’t be, obviously. Just a coincidence. It was probably the darkness of his bedroom, and your eyes trying desperately to find something. “I’m sorry”

“Thank you for bringing me back”

“I’m glad I could. And I hope you don’t leave Seoul because of me.”

"There's nothing for me here." You quit your job, and you can't take that back. You booked a flight, and you packed up most of your things.

"When are you leaving?"

"Thursday"

“Do you have plans today?”

“Are asking me out?”

“You can tell me no, I won’t be surprised”

“No, I don’t have plans today"

“I just figured I’d take a shot while we were still here. I don’t expect a second chance. You really shouldn’t be involved with someone like me, and I shouldn’t be pulling someone into my fucked up life. But this is all new for me.”

“What is? A relationship? Friendship? An acquaintance?”

Seungmin nods, “all of those, and speaking openly—not lying about everything. That’s new, too.”

“Does that make me special?” You’re not sure if you’re being facetious, or if something inside of you wants to be the thing he needs to keep alive. A bad romance novel come to life. That’s why you’re here right now, obviously, because of every little gesture Seungmin has extended to you—everything aside from his complete loss of control. Being a murderer doesn’t mean he’s incapable of the truth, or sincerity. Right?

Seungmin smirks at the question, “Maybe.” He moves his hand closer to yours, but stops when you pull it away. "So why did you kiss me?"

Why did you kiss him? Because you needed to—because he's beautiful, and he was right there, sleepy face inches from yours. Because you've read too many bad romance novels. Because clearly, you're messed up, too, since you're even sitting here right now. And because, like him, you were sure it was your last chance. "I figured it made a good distraction."

"Oh...yeah, I guess it did"

"And I wanted to. I wanted to as soon as I saw you, but I forced myself to keep some distance. So maybe there was some fear of regret mixed with my fear of being murdered. How stupid is that?" You watch his mouth twitch as he tries to hold his smirk back. “I feel that a lot. Regret.”

“I don’t typically feel it...the regret, the remorse, and the empathy most people are used to. I guess that does make me a, uhm...what was that word?"

"Cliche?"

"Yeah. Sometimes I wish I could feel the regret, or a little bit of empathy. But lately, I think I have felt it a little."

“You feel regret? About what?”

"Fucking up what was very close to a good night. I didn’t even get to make you come."

Seungmin loves the blush slowly rising up your neck, and now, being out in public, he likes it even more. He meant it, the regret about not getting you off when he was eating you out, but it’s your blush, not the memory, that makes his cock twitch in his jeans.

“No, I guess you didn’t.” You close your palms over your warm cheeks for a moment, and stifle a laugh. He's actually making you laugh. Something about him really is messing you up.

"Let me make it up to you"

The dark blue of the room is calming. Everything is soft, and unusually warm. The smell is the same as you remember. It doesn’t feel strange being here again, like it should. Not uneasy, and not scary. Maybe there’s something wrong with you, too.

“Are you alright? I thought you left me.” Seungmin hangs onto the door jamb and clicks on another lamp. You can hear the relief in his voice.

/ / /

This new view of him is nice—on his knees, head down, lips marking your stocking covered thighs. He’s gentle, and probably nervous that he’s not being gentle enough. “Seungmin.”

He looks up, cheek still resting on your thighs, and you’re struck by how innocent he appears, how sweet and puppy-like his eyes are. You smile, and he gets back to work. His hands slide up and underneath your skirt, and down come the stockings, very slowly. Now he kisses your bare skin, and his warm, wet lips send a shiver through you. You can feel how soaked through your panties are as they pull away from your body. He seems to stop and admire them, just like last time, before tossing them to the side.

“Are you comfortable?” Seungmin pulls until you’re at the very edge of the cushion, sending the hem of your skirt up and out of his way. He doesn’t wait for an answer.

The entire ride back to his apartment, you were ready for him. The memory of last time, how good he felt, is still very real. It was excruciating, having him so close and not touching—keeping your cool, not letting him know just how badly you wanted him. But the elevator doors closed, and he backed you into the corner, held you softly by the neck, and kissed you. The entire ride up, 25 floors and luckily no interruptions, he kissed, pulling back occasionally to let you breathe.

You fall back against the couch, and let him know how good it feels to have him there. “Yes,” you sigh, whine his name, and he likes that. He gives a deep, satisfied groan as he sucks you between his lips, and he stays there, savoring the taste as it pours out. But he can’t keep himself from teasing, and he slows down when your moans become erratic, focuses on your entrance, spreads your lips apart and licks, a little selfishly. But it feels so good, and you taste so good. Seungmin can’t get enough, and as badly as he wants to make you come, he isn’t ready to stop yet. He needs as much as you can give, and has to hope you’ll stay with him and keep your legs open all night.

“Seungmin, please…I need it”

He looks up and runs his tongue slowly over every part of you before stopping at your clit—so sensitive, his warm breath is enough to set your hips in motion.

“I know,” he kisses, “I’m being greedy.” He kisses again, sucks hard, and his thumb slides gently over the rest of you, making your hips jump against his mouth. He does it again, gathering some arousal, and slowly circling your entrance before sliding it in.

You close your eyes and relax, let it wash over you. He doesn’t stop this time. It’s intense, slowly pulsing through every single nerve his lips are working on—“oh…god…fuck,” you roll your hips up, needing more, needing him. Every muscle relaxes, and you sink into the couch, but the waves of pleasure keep coming. You watch him work, softly flicking his tongue between your lips, so swollen and so hungry for him—his mouth, his hands. You need it again, his cock stretching you to your limit. Barely down from this high, and you can’t wait for the next one. After a few more slow, selfish licks, Seungmin gives his mouth a break, and breathes.

“Thank you,” you laugh, feeling a little delirious. The room spins above you, but you feel his hands push your knees together. This is definitely the first time you’ve thanked someone for making you come, but it seemed appropriate. “Is it my turn?” There are still memories from that night trickling in, and you get another when the question leaves your lips—the cocktail, and Seungmin’s comment that put everything in motion.

“Your turn?”

No, you don’t always go down easy…

“Oh,” smiling wide, eyes shining, dick threatening to escape his tight briefs as he rises. “But you don’t have to, if…” he looks down, then back at you, “if it’s uncomfortable.”

It’s intimidating to look at, but finally touching him, realizing how much of a handful he really is, “I don’t mind trying,” you pull the fabric until his head appears, and immediately close your mouth around his pre-cum soaked tip. “Or just…” you lick slowly, letting your tongue slide up and onto his stomach before going back to do it again.

“Take your time”

“Sit”

Seungmin listens, and frees himself a little more before hitting the couch. He knows what you want, and he watches as your mouth patiently explores him—you kiss and lick every inch as your hands stroke softly. You desperately want to make him feel good—return a little bit of what he just gave you. And Seungmin does let you know what he likes: everytime your tongue slides over his head, the deep moan from his chest soaks you again. “I want you.” Your heart races at the thought of it. It beats so hard you think you might pass out…again, this time on your own.

He rolls his hips and pushes himself in a little further, “I know you do, get down…on your back.”

You release him, a little reluctantly, but you let yourself fall backwards until you’re flat on the soft carpet. He follows, hovers, and eyes every inch of you before unzipping and discarding your skirt. “Are you alright?” The perceptiveness shouldn’t be that surprising to you, but the concern takes you back to that night. His voice feels far away, but it’s because of your heart pounding in your ears, you think. It’s not until now that you feel outside of yourself again. Why does he keep doing this to you? You’re weightless again, floating, watching everything happen in slow motion—slipping away.

“Hey, look at me,” he sets his palm just beneath your throat, but he quickly moves it down. “Can you hear me? Your heart feels like it’s about to explode.”

The sound of him pulling a blanket from the couch, and the feeling of it draping over your half naked body brings you back, just enough to open your eyes and find his worried face. “I can hear you.” A moment later, he’s gone. “Don’t go.”

“I��ll be back”

You sit up and look around, but vertigo hits and you shove your face into the blanket. The feeling of passing out is still threatening you, and it takes everything to keep it at bay.

“Here, drink some water. And if you’d like…” in his open palm is one tiny white pill, “but you don’t have to. They help with my panic attacks. And my nightmares.” Seungmin just stares softly, still worried.

“I’m okay.” An obvious lie—you’re still on the edge of a cliff, dizzy, and very much on the verge of throwing up. “Water is good.”

“You should lie down on the couch,” Seungmin doesn’t move, and he doesn’t touch you. Not yet. He assumes his touch is the reason why you’re fighting for your breath on his floor right now.

“Where’s your bathroom?”

“Right behind you”

/ / /

“Are you alright? I thought you left me.” Seungmin hangs onto the door jamb and clicks on another lamp. You can hear the relief in his voice, and you could hear the nervousness in it when he called out your name the first time.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just wanted to see the room again.” But you did check the front door, and found it unlocked. He also didn't hover when you shut yourself in the bathroom for ten minutes, because you managed to sneak into his bedroom when you finally emerged. It put you a little more at ease after the panic attack.

“We can stay in here, if you want. I can bring our drinks in.”

“No, just you”

“Just me?” He takes a few steps toward the bed. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sorry, I don't know what happened.”

Seungmin stops just short of where you’re sitting, “I do.“ He looks nervous—he is nervous. “This is probably a bad idea."

“I should leave?”

“No, no, I want you to stay, but I'm aware that I set off your panic attack. That was my fault."

It seems like he’s more empathetic than he realizes. Or maybe he’s faking. He is a killer, after all; a psychopath—one that gets his way by being handsome and charming, and right now might not be any different than his other seductions. Maybe he’s taking the long way around to get you where he wants you, and you’re stupid and blind enough to fall for it. “We could just enjoy each other’s company.” It’s a silly suggestion, and you realize that as it’s coming out of your mouth. “For now. If that’s not too much.”

He smirks. “Enjoy each other’s company?" He isn't exactly sure what you mean, but he wants to find out.

“Stupid idea?”

"Depends on what you mean by it. I don't typically enjoy anyone's company. I hate it, actually."

You know he's not trying to be funny, but something about him is accidentally humerous, and you assume it's because you're here with him right now...because he wanted you here, keeping him company. "That doesn't seem completely true."

The look on his face speaks volumes. You can tell he feels a little bit exposed, and a little bit confused. Seungmin turns to hide, his arms fold over his chest, and he takes a few steps toward the balcony. "I like sex. I have to deal with someones company if I'm going to get it."

"Is that why I'm here? You need to finish properly?"

"No"

"No? You made me come, but you haven't, have you? Did you finish when I was passed out?"

Seungmin doesn't answer.

"You've been far too patient with me, and it's weird"

"Weird?" Now he turns back to you, "...isanghan?" And takes a step toward you again. “Considering what sex tends to do to me, and considering I like it so much, you should be grateful for my patience."

“What exactly does it do to you?” One more step. Now you can reach out and touch him if you want. You don't.

“Mm, that’s when I do it, usually…after sex. At least when things go to plan.”

“Are you trying to scare me off again?”

Seungmin’s face doesn't change. “No, just trying my hand at more honesty, I guess.”

“When is the last time you had sex without killing the person afterward? Aside from me.”

The silence as he thinks stretches out far too long, and he sits at the edge of the bed, keeping some distance between you, “I don’t remember.”

You rise from your spot, and Seungmin probably assumes you need more distance from him, but that’s not the case. “We don’t have to talk about it.” He watches as you round the bed, pull at his pile of covers, and climb in.

/ / /

Seungmin just stares, tucked tightly under the covers, for most of the evening. He only moves closer when you reach out and brush the hair away from his forehead, run your fingers through it. He seems to relax under your touch. This kind of interaction with another person is definitely unusual for him, and with the attitude he gave earlier, you're surprised he's still sharing the space with you. Sleep comes easily, though, and hours later, you wake up. It’s not quite morning yet, but you can see sunlight trying to break through the curtain. Seungmin’s breath bounces steadily off of your neck, warm and pleasant. His leg is pushed between your thighs, moving a little in his sleep, and his arms are pulled tight against him, almost as if he’s hugging himself. Keeping your hands to yourself is a challenge, and it’s made even more difficult when he stirs a little—a soft, sleepy groan escapes him, and when your fingertips slide across his cheek, he sighs deeply, and settles again. In his sleep, he looks a little different; his face looks younger and softer, his brow isn’t furrowed, like it seems to be almost constantly, and his lips form into a perfect heart shaped pout. The real him, maybe.

As soon as you close your eyes, you’re gone, but it feels like only moments pass when you hear his faint moans, and a string of slurred words. He’s flat on his back, chin up, head pushed hard into the pillow, and the look on his face is his usual worried one. Your graze your knuckles against his cheek, but he doesn’t feel it. Whatever has him in his sleep is holding tightly.

"Seungmin?”

no, I won't help you

His words are clear now, but in Korean, so you don’t know what he’s saying.

please look at me

A tear is squeezed from the corner of his eye, and it trickles slowly across his temple. You wipe at it, and this time his eyes open. He catches his breath before looking around and remembering where he is, and why he’s not alone bed.

You reach for him again, but he turns away and stares absently at the wall. “Nightmares?”

Seungmin is quiet, but he nods.

“You were sleeping well when I woke up earlier, I hope it was enough.”

He remains still, head down, hands clenching and unclenching as he thinks, or clears his mind, or maybe he’s putting his nightmare back together in his head. Maybe he needs one of his pills. Would it be strange to treat him the way he treated you…gently, like you might shatter at the smallest touch? “Can I get you anything?” You whisper.

Silent still, but he shakes his head.

“Should I go?”

This time he turns and looks at you with sharp, sad eyes—a look brimming with the unspoken emotions trapped inside of his head. And he isn’t sure how to answer. Yes, you should probably leave, is Seungmin’s first thought, because he knows where this is going; the noises in his head are slowly returning, and getting to this point was difficult enough when his mind was quiet. “It’s coming back.”

“What is?”

Aside from the noise, the voices…the itch that doesn’t stop until it’s done, Seungmin doesn’t know how to put it into words. He’s never had to put it into words, now that he’s thinking about it, because why would he ever tell anyone? This is all he’s ever known, and sometimes he still forgets that most people (you, he assumes) can make up their own minds, and follow their own train of thought every single day. He doesn’t have that option. “Nothing, never mind. I just…need to wake up, I think”

Going out of his way to get to you again, and to see you, was a stupid mistake. Seungmin thinks the only option is you leaving and saving yourself from him. Why did he disrupt his perfectly comfortable, routine existence? Comfortable might be stretching it, but whatever he managed to create was working. There is nowhere that you fit into this, and he knows that. He hasn't forgotten...black or white. You’re here now, yes, but you haven’t seen the worst of him—nowhere near it. If you leave now and go back home, you’ll be spared the real Seungmin, and a possibly death by his hands. He needs that, because he still doesn’t want to hurt you.

“I need to find someone, and I need to do things right this time.” Seungmin forces himself to look at you, “so I can have some peace for a while.”

“Oh, okay...I think I understand”

“I need to be alone”

“So I won’t see you again,” you’re up out of the bed, adjusting your clothes, and heading toward the door.

“That’s probably for the best. You should pack up and go home.”

“I will”

“I’m sorry I fucked everything up, but if you leave, you’ll be happier, and safer”

“Safer from you?” Once again, you’re stuck in this room, only this time, it’s your own fault. The door is wide open, but you can’t move.

“Maybe”

“So you lied to get me here. Why didn’t you just kill me when you had the chance? You had several…you still have one more, I’m right here.”

“I don’t want to kill you, I want you to leave and never have to look at me again”

The step back is easier now, but the empty feeling creeping up your stomach and chest is making you sick. Your heart is pounding wildly again, but you don’t know if it’s panic, or anger, or something else. It seems like only a few hours ago you were struggling with the idea of communicating with him, and now he’s pushing you out. “Good luck with your—“ you stop and look at him. He isn’t looking back, “your work.”

The blank face staring up at him; the dead eyes, and blue-tinted lips, feels like a reflection of himself. His fingers remain laced around her neck, tangled in the shoulder-length hair and delicate silver necklaces. It was too much—the force he used this time; the crack, and the crunch of her trachea as it collapsed under his hands was unusual for him. It felt good, though, and it was exactly what he needed. But now he's more exhausted than he can ever remember feeling. Seungmin is careful as he loosens his grip, because the necklaces cut right into his skin as he squeezed. The imprints of his hands are still there, red and angry, and a slow trickle of blood starts to drip from her nose.

There won't be any sleep tonight. He has to dispose of this body now, and he has to do it well, because his perfect handprints, and the DNA all over her jewelry won't do him any favors if she's found.

He looks down at her and sees you for the briefest moment. There is no resemblance, at all, and that he did on purpose. Still, you continue to invade his every thought.

Thursday arrived and passed quietly. No message. Expecting one more goodbye from you was a little bit stupid. Seungmin started things, fucked them up, started them again, and then ripped the rug from beneath you...any normal person wouldn't want to deal with his shit anymore, even if he wasn't what he is. You should truly want nothing to do with him, and you’re now out of his reach. You’re safe. You found his gray area.

"Maybe I should burn you," he says out loud. Also not his usual MO, but he's done it before. Not sticking to the same kill, same demographic, same dumping ground, is one of the reasons he hasn't been caught. At least that's what he assumes. "Or maybe I should just leave you in the hallway so they can find me."

Seungmiiin

He jumps, but he knows he's hearing things. That doesn't keep him from listening.

Minnie...please be careful, you know how clumsy you are sometimes

It's not really there, but he knows where it's coming from. If he follows it, it'll lead to the same spot it always does.

I love you so much, and I want you to be happy

"Stop it." Seungmin shakes his head, as if that will wake him up and quiet things again. "Stop, I know...I will be careful. I promise."

You're so clever, and talented, and full of love...nobody can take that from you, not even him

"Okay..." Seungmin flexes his sore hands, and carefully removes himself from the body. He'll burn everything on this bed, too, he decides. The sheets, the blankets, the bedspread...maybe the pillows. "Did you hear that, too?" He looks to Daengmo, sitting perfectly on the bedside table, watchful as ever. "I know you did."

/ / /

Fourteen hours; that's how long he sleeps. When he wakes up, he has no idea where he is, or what day it is. He hardly remembers what happened in the last 24 hours, or that he spent longer than he ever has disposing of a body. Seungmin is in pain, though—his hands, his shoulders, back...hips. The moment he flips onto his back and stares up at the ceiling, he starts to recall what he did, and why he's so sore, but he immediately starts to doze again. Fourteen hours wasn't enough.

He forces his eyes back open and picks up his phone; almost 9:30. "Did you really leave?" He says, and pulls up Thursday's flights from Seoul back to North America. Seungmin has no idea where you're from, or where you were headed, but he looks anyway.

"Air Canada...to Toronto, cancelled. Korean Air, to New York, arrived on time, to Chicago...delayed four hours.”

Why is he dwelling on this? His mind is finally clear for nothing but his own thoughts, and his own thoughts go right to you.

That’s a stupid idea, he thinks, and looks around, "isn’t it?" His eyes fall to his stuffed dog, still sitting quietly on the table. "Is it? She’s either there, or she’s not." Eyes back to the ceiling, "you liked her, didn’t you?"

The streets are still busy and loud, even at this hour, in this cold, but Seungmin feels good. Black coffee and a few painkillers perked him up, and the sharpness of his mind is doing wonders for his mood. It wasn’t until he finally crawled out of bed that it hit him; the last few weeks have actually been a nightmare, mentally. It was the worst rut he’s been in for a long time. He hasn’t quite been himself.

But he’s out of it now, finally. For a while.

He stands in front of your apartment building, and waits. It takes a few minutes before the crowd dwindles enough, but as soon as it does, he goes for the door, and it’s open. No buzz-in needed. Three floors up, he remembers (but there are only four floors anyway), three doors down, on the right. The hallway is deserted, and so quiet that it actually unnerves him a little—it almost makes him turn around. Seungmin stands there, and waits, listens. Still quiet. Your apartment isn’t your apartment anymore, he knows that, but he rings the doorbell anyway. He can hear it echo through your deserted living room.

Nothing. Seungmin knew you were gone. He digs in his coat pocket and pulls out the lock picking set he wasn’t sure he would even need, and he still doesn’t know why he’s using it. Maybe you left something behind. He works on the deadbolt for a few seconds, but even taking his time, and working quietly, he hears the click. The doorknob is next, and that one is even easier. Inside, the scent of your perfume, or shampoo…whatever it was, still lingers—a sweet, deep floral scent Seungmin can’t quite place. He shuts the door behind him, and breaths deep. It’s empty inside, and dark. No boxes, or clothes; just the couch, the armchair, the coffee maker. All the things that were here before you. Still, he walks around and looks, doing his best to keep quiet, and doing his best to adjust to the dark. His eyes don’t do well with no light, even with his glasses.

A creak stops him in his tracks and puts him on edge…gets his heart pumping, and he stays there frozen, ears perked. He likes this type of adrenaline rush.

“Seungm—“

It’s only a whisper, but he knows it’s behind him. The faint outline is human, but that’s all he can make out. As soon as his hand finds something to grab, it grabs, and pushes, hard, and their back finds the wall. The sound is so loud in the silence, and the neck he’s gripping is so small and soft…

“Ss…stop”

His eyes adjust, and he can see more clearly as he stares into your terrified face. They drop to his hand still wrapped tight around your neck. Seungmin’s body goes numb.

“It’s me, please”

“Fuck…I’m—” his grip finally relaxes and frees you, but he grabs your arms as your knees give out, “I thought you left,” he whispers to himself, and holds you up. “You’re still here.”

“Yeah, I’m here”

"Are you okay?”

“Let go,” you push him away, and finish falling to your knees. “Don’t touch me.” A panic attack is forcing its way in, and you can’t get enough air. This can’t be happening again—this shitty astral projection. Every time he’s around you, something bad happens. Why didn't you just stay at the airport?

Seungmin’s hand runs slowly across your back, “you scared me."

“Why are you here?” You shake his hand away from you again, but he doesn't take it off.

“I could ask you the same thing. I rang the doorbell before I broke in.”

“I figured it was a drunk neighbor”

“Look at me, let me see your neck”

You lift your head for him, but he doesn’t look at your neck. One hand cups your cheek, and the other moves the loose hair from your eyes. He looks at you, stares so hard it makes your stomach hurt, but you can't look away. "You didn't leave."

"No"

"Why didn't you leave?"

"My flight got cancelled, three times. I got tired and begged my landlord for a few more days." It's catching up to you; the exhaustion, and the stress, and you start to feel tears brimming. You really don't want to cry right now, though. Your brain always chooses the worst times to do it. "They lost my luggage, or someone stole it, I don't know...I don't have anything."

"Nothing?"

"Just what I have in my bag"

Something he can fix, that's the only thing running through his mind now. Seungmin is useless, and he knows that—the world wouldn’t change at all if he was suddenly gone. He takes and takes, and he never gives. He doesn’t fix things.

“Why are you here, Seungmin?”

Why is he here? He thinks you probably know why he’s here, because you’ve proven yourself to be very perceptive. But you’re also upset. You’ve been here with nothing, Seungmin assumes, since at least Thursday; two nights, three if you count tonight.

“I, uhm,” he can answer two different ways, or he can lie. “I thought you might have left something behind, so I didn’t think it would hurt to check.”

“Left something behind…like what?”

Maybe a letter, like he wrote for you. An article of clothing, or a piece of jewelry. Something tangible he could hold onto. “I needed to know if you really left”

“Keep telling me the truth”

Seungmin’s heart thumps in his chest, and in his head, “okay.”

“Do you want me leave?”

“No”

“Why?”

“I don’t know…” he watches as you stand and head toward the bedroom, “wait, wait.”

“I’m tired”

“Come back with me”

Finally, he gets it out. His heart still thumps, and it shakes his whole body, but he did it, he spit the words out. He isn’t ready for the let down.

“You sent me away, didn’t want me to look at you again.” He stares blankly, avoiding you completely. “You told me I’d be safer away from you.”

“And it might still be true.” Seungmin shakes his head, like he’s trying to clear more voices out of it. "But..."

“Okay”

The only possession you have left, your backpack—not even completely full, hangs on Seungmin’s shoulder as he works on his locks. Four of them, two different keys, plus one digital lock; you’d think he had something to hide in here. “Sorry, this one always sticks.” He gives you a half smile. His demeanor changed drastically after your okay.

“It’s alright”

“You can shower, if you’d like. Are you hungry?”

Yes, you’re starving. You still have money, but you were preparing for a hotel bill come tomorrow morning. Canceling is an option now, you suppose, but you’re hesitant to do it. “I am.”

“What are you in the mood for? Unless you’d rather sleep first, maybe you’re more tired than hungry. A bath might be nice, though. Maybe—”

“How about I shower while you…make something, or order it?”

“I can cook”

/ / /

The last time you used this bathroom, you were mid-panic attack. Now you’re comfortable in the tub Seungmin insisted you soak in, and you’re very glad he did. You watched him pick out his favorite bath salts so you could try them—he filled the tub, poured them in, and made sure you approved before leaving you…”take your time.” He gave you his full smile this time, but it was a little hesitant.

This is the most relaxed you’ve been in weeks, and you hate thinking it now, but Seungmin has given you nothing but terror, anxiety, anger, and overwhelming emptiness. It’s been a struggle finding anything positive in your short time in Korea, and it’s because of him. Leaving was supposed to fix this, but you couldn’t do it. A cancelled flight was nothing, but a second cancelled flight felt like a sign. After the third one, you gave up on rebooking, but you had no clue what your plan was from there.

Ten minutes into your bath, he knocks softly before cracking the door, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make anything too spicy unless I asked”

“No spice”

The door closes softly, and you can’t hold back a stupid grin. He’s out of his element right now, again, and you wonder if he’s ever cooked for anyone before; a date, if that’s what you can still call yourself; a friend, an acquaintance. No, you know he hasn't; Seungmin doesn't like company. You’re messing him up, just like he’s messing you up.

/ / /

Seungmin can cook, he’s just not very good at it. He’s hoping you’re hungry enough not to care. Focusing on the food in front of him is difficult, though, when your half-unzipped backpack is right there on the couch. There isn’t much in it, but there is something in there; your most important things, probably—the only things you felt the need to keep with you for the long trip home. He can’t help it, he has to look. It’s not even close to the worst he’s done to you already.

A phone charger, earbuds, a jewelry case. Seungmin opens that, but there’s not much inside: two small silver rings, a necklace with a medallion hanging from it. He recognizes it right away, because his mother had the same one in her jewelry box; St. Michael, vanquishing the devil.

He digs a little further. A pill case, a sweatshirt…he pushes that aside and wraps his fingers around a tightly folded piece of paper, and he recognizes it as soon as he pulls it out. He barely unfolds it before a familiar dried flower slips out and onto the floor, and then another.

“Be careful with those”

Seungmin jumps, but doesn’t drop anymore, “sorry,” and he bends to pick them up.

“So you’re a murderer, and a snoop”

“Snoop? Like the little dog?”

“Yeah, like the beagle. Did you find anything good?”

“I thought you would’ve thrown this away.” He gently opens one side and slides the flowers back inside. “I mean, I’m not usually this—”

“Nosy?”

“I was going to say rude”

“Nowhere near the worst thing you’ve done, it’s okay”

Right. Not even close. “Oh, let me get you something to wear,” he says, but he takes an extra few moments to scan over every part of you, tightly wrapped in his towel. “A shirt, and maybe something else of mine will fit.”

You follow him into the bedroom, and his curtain is pulled back as far as it goes. The view is nicer now than it was when you stood there during the day, and much nicer than it was when you ran out in a panic, looking for an exit. Seungmin is on his knees, rifling through the bottom dresser drawer, and he’s a nicer view, too. You still think you should hate him, and you do, a little bit, but the longer you’re near him, the easier it becomes.

“Here, try this,” he holds up a black t-shirt, a little faded, and definitely big, even for him. “It’s comfortable.”

“Did you dye your hair?” The way the light hits it in here, it looks darker.

He hands you the shirt, and watches carefully as you pull it over your head. “I did, it just didn’t take very well.” The towel doesn’t shake loose until the hem falls below your hips, and he's a little disappointed. Still, he looks for whatever shape he can find under all the fabric. His eyes move down your legs, and back up slowly, stopping when he gets to your thighs.

“The glasses suit you, I like them”

“You do?” He lights up a little at the compliment, and smiles when you nod. “My shirt suits you.”

Seungmin hopes, he really hopes…he’s not sure where you’re at right now, as far as trusting him, and feeling comfortable…but he hopes you won’t take a step back when he takes one toward you, or when he reaches his hand out to touch your shirt sleeve. And then, very cautiously, your arm. Goosebumps jump up on your skin when he runs his thumb down to your elbow, but you don’t shy away. “You’re hungry…we should eat.”

“We should,” you move forward, and pull him down until you can almost reach his lips. “What did you make?”

Are you teasing him on purpose? “Spam fried rice…and eggs. I'm sure I have something sweet, if you’re in the mood.”

“That sounds good, yeah.” He’s pulled a little closer, but your lips land on the apple of his warm cheek, “sex is supposed to be better after you eat.”

/ / /

“Did we enjoy each other’s company?” Seungmin smiles to himself as he pours you more tea.

“You certainly did, considering how wrapped up in me you were that morning”

His face drops a little, “I was?”

Wrapped up is a little exaggerated, but you do tell him exactly how you woke up to him, and he blushes. “I can be a little noisy in my sleep, sorry.”

“And I was on your side of the bed, so maybe you were just migrating back to it”

He laughs, and getting that out of him feels like an accomplishment you didn’t know you needed. This version of Seungmin looks, and feels, different than any other you’ve met, but there are bits and pieces of each one still hanging on. The worry still sits in his eyes, but it’s subtle—every time he looks into yours, you can hear him wondering when you’ll leave again. He’s still nervous, just a little on edge, as if whatever he’s doing is wrong, or just not completely correct. When he asked how the food was, you told him the truth; it was perfect, and exactly what you needed, but you also told him, jokingly, that his onion chopping needed some work. He seemed to take it to heart, so it took some convincing to get his mind off of it. And whatever feelings come back when it’s time—the thing that sits on his shoulder, always seems to be there in some small way. Maybe it’s just the memory of it.

But he’s different. Seungmin did what he needed to do to feel normal for a while, and you see it. He looks at you easily, with much less intensity, and laughs a little bit louder. This must be the real Seungmin.

“I’m much more comfortable here,” Seungmin sits and hands you a mug, “and warmer.” Because you asked him to turn up the heat, and he apologized several times for not doing it sooner. “Thank you for having me again. Don’t make me regret it.”

He tilts his head to the side, and raises his eyebrows. You think you see a smile trying to tug at his lips, but he keeps it to himself, “no, I don’t want to do that. But I have a question.”

“Go ahead”

“Do you think being on top would make you more comfortable?”

“On top?” You stare at him blankly for a few beats, sip your tea. “Oh, on top. Of you. Maybe.” You keep your face neutral. He looks a little dejected, but when your eyes wander down, you can see how fast he’s getting hard, and a wave of pleasure runs all the way through you. “Won’t hurt to try.”

That’s all he needs to hear. Seungmin goes right for your waist and pulls you to your feet, “if you need me to stop…” he waits for your nod before leading you back to the bedroom.

“You changed your bedspread, you changed everything…well, almost everything.” Seungmin sees your gaze land on Daengmo. “Tell me about him later?”

He nods, sits comfortably and unbuttons his jeans, unzips them carefully, and groans when he can get them away from his erection. His sweatshirt is next, and when he gets it over his head and tosses it aside, you’re half kneeling on the bed, hem of your tshirt clenched in your fist. Seungmin laughs, and then pats his bare thigh, “right here.”

You listen, and carefully straddle him. “Oh,” you jump when his dick, still confined to his briefs, rubs against your aching clit. “Don’t tease,” you reach down and pull at the fabric.

“Not tonight,” he finishes freeing himself and rubs his head over your wet, silky entrance. “No teasing.” The groan he makes comes out so deep, and so needy, “are you ready? You feel ready.”

Two fingers slide down and up, disappearing deep inside of you, and the pressure he gives makes you whine. His free hand gently squeezes your hip, holds you still—the other slides out, “mm, yeah…so wet for me.” Before he does anything else, he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean, “I’m all yours…” and lies back on the pillow.

You’re not sure you can get him in like this, but you take him in your hand and spread yourself open, slide your knees further and further apart so there’s nowhere else to go but in. The pressure is intense, but you know how wet you are, and how wet he’s still making you as you look at his calm, smirking face.

“Yeah, that’s good,” his hips jump, but he keeps himself under control. He wants you doing all the work right now. “A little more, I know you can take it all,” he moans when you stop and pull yourself up, and then slowly slide back down, “fuck.”

Back down, little by little, and the stretch hurts until you start to move up and down, gently, working your thighs to the point of burning. But you want to take him all. You’re still all here, no panic, no overwhelming memory of what happened before. Seungmin is so content just lying there watching you, and you want this now. All of it. You slow down and relax before setting both palms against his stomach. He flexes, and you feel every muscle hold you steady; you feel his hips twitch as you take another inch…and then another. And one more, all of him, stretching you to your limit.

“Good?”

“Good,” you roll your hips and stretch yourself even more, “so good.”

Seungmin wets his thumb on his tongue and finds your clit, teases it as you start to bounce again, “fuck,” his free hand slides over yours, “fuck, I might get there first…you feel so good,” he whines and moves faster, rubbing in tight little circles as you lose yourself and start to fuck him harder.

It hurts, in the best way—you can’t stop, and you can’t slow down until you come His heavy eyes and parted lips, tongue just barely poking out of the corner of his mouth…slowly licking across his teeth, is getting you there fast. His smile grows as you stare, and he moans again, just for you, “you feel so fucking good,” he whispers, and his exaggerated whine sends you over the edge. It starts building, fast, and you need to touch more of him. Your palm slides up to his chest, over his hard nipple, and back down his side. It tickles him, you can tell, but he doesn’t miss a beat rubbing your orgasm out of you.

You move faster, fuck him harder, and let the feeling overtake you. Seungmin keeps going, and his hips start moving now, thrusting up into you with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs, but it doesn’t phase you this time.

Seungmin is loud when he comes. The bed shakes, and your body screams at you. He grips you tight, fingernails digging deep into your hips. The mess of cum starts running down your thighs and onto him. When he finally slows down, it’s because he’s out of breath, but his hips continue to move, softly, in and out.

/ / /

It was fast, but you’re exhausted. Racing heart, burning hips, and mess working its way out between your legs—you lay yourself onto the pillow and look to him. He’s still flat on his back, hands splayed across him, fingers moving against his tight stomach. His mouth is slightly parted as he catches his breath, and his eyes are closed. You take a second and try to read his mind.

But you can’t figure it out. You can’t begin to guess…you only hope he’s having good thoughts.

“Hm?” Seungmin looks at you, eyes mostly open, “did you say my name?”

“No, just looking at you”

Again, his eyes close, and you hear a quiet, exasperated what? come from him.

“What’s wrong? Seungmin?”

His hands move to cover his face, and he keeps them there as he mumbles a little to himself. You catch a word here and there, but you can't make anything of it until he finally uncovers his mouth...

"You shouldn't be here...you shouldn't be here right now"

Not again. He can't be doing this to you again, not after the trouble he just went through getting you here. "What do you mean?" Your heart is still pounding from the sex, and now it's mixing with the sick feeling in your stomach. "Seungmin?"

"What?" He sounds irritated. He looks irritated.

"You want me to...no, you don't, do you?" You sit up and pull the blankets up to your chin. The slow, uncomfortable feeling of his cum dripping out of you is making this so much worse. "No, you can't." The last part you whisper, because you don't know if you want him to hear. Your throat tightens, and your eyes water, and you think you feel him staring, but when you check, he's not.

Seungmin's eyes are closed, and his jaw is clenched tight. "Please, just leave me alone right now."

It was stupid to expect him to just be okay, but he was okay. He was himself when he brought you back, and when he made you a bath. When he cooked for you. It also seemed stupid to expect yourself to be okay, but you were, and still are. Sort of. You decide to just stop talking, tuck yourself deep into the covers, and wait for whatever this is to pass. Leaving isn't really an option for you anymore. You don't want to leave.

/ / /

A hard kick straight to your shin wakes you from your sleep. You were in deep, dreaming like before, only this time Seungmin wasn’t there. The darkness, the cold wet ground, the sound of footsteps in the mud…that was all still there—loud, desperate cries from a child, barely audible, but that sound sticks with you even after waking up. It rings in your head as the spot just below your knee throbs in pain.

“Seungmin," a gentle shake of his shoulder brings him out of his sleep, and his face relaxes almost immediately when he realizes he’s in his bed. “You didn't wanna be in that dream anymore, did you?”

He takes a few deep breaths before sitting up and rubbing at his cheeks, “was I talking?” And then he moves his hands to just below his eyes, as if he's feeling for tears, “or—”

“No, you kicked me. And you looked very unhappy.”

“Kicked you?” Seungmin folds his legs up to his chest, and he looks like a kid. A very tired, very confused kid. “Hard?”

“Hard enough, but I’m fine”

“I’m sorry”

Reading him is difficult, maybe because you’re still tired. Last night feels like it couldn’t have happened—all of it; Seungmin coming to find you, bringing you home with him…what that came after. Everything feels like a fever dream you’ve been floating through, half awake. “No, it’s okay. I was in the middle of a dream, too. Being awake is better.”

“Were you comfortable, did you sleep well?" He’s looking at your legs as they move around under the blankets, “let me see.”

“I’m okay, I promise." He clearly doesn't remember.

Seungmin nods, but pulls at the blankets anyway. He keeps pulling and reaching until you finally give in and show him your leg. “Thank you,” he touches the red spot, and the slightly broken skin.

“Do you remember last night?” You ask, and he doesn’t move, but his gaze does. “After, I mean.”

Yes, he remembers laying next to you, and trying not to doze off too fast—still so tired after so much sleep. He lost that battle, though. “Yeah, I fell asleep. I should have stayed awake with you.”

“You don’t remember talking to me before that?”

He shakes his head, and sets his warm hand over the sore spot. If he doesn't remember it, then maybe it doesn't matter. "What did I say?"

You watch his face as you speak, "uhm, you told me I shouldn't be here. And you asked me to leave you alone."

There is no change in his face, so you suspect he isn't very surprised by what he said. His hand slides down your shin, to your ankle, and then back up...very slowly. It's gentle and sweet, but something about it is unnerving at the same time. That doesn't stop a chill from running up your body, and goosebumps to run up your arms. His warm hands feel good, and when he squeezes your thigh, you have to stifle a moan.

"Don't believe everything I say"

The softness of his voice, and another squeeze of his hand almost distracts you from what he tells you. "How do I know what to believe?" You pull yourself back a little, but Seungmin's grip on your thigh tightens. "How do I know when you're telling me the truth?"

"I didn't mean that last night"

"You sounded like you meant it"

"I didn't, I promise." He pulls you closer, "look at me." He waits until you do, but whatever he's trying to say hasn't come together in his head yet. Seungmin is feeling very overwhelmed, very suddenly, and he wants to scream. He wants to squeeze your thigh until his nails dig in deep enough to break the skin. "I don't know how to make you believe me."

"Please, let go"

He looks down at the hold he has on you, and it's too much, just not quite enough to make you bleed. His grip loosens, and the mark left behind is red and angry.

"I need to go clean up"

/ / /

The strong smell of coffee comes through the bathroom door, so you know he's up, and probably out there waiting. You check the marks on your thigh. It stings, and you can see the perfect crescent shaped indentations he left behind. It could be much worse—the cool washcloth takes away most of the pain. You rinse it under warm water and clean up the mess you should've taken care of last night; the mess you really shouldn't have made at all. But you try not to think about it. You try not to think about what he just outright told you about himself. And this hold he has on you—it's not the best idea, but you shove that down for now, too.

You crack the door and peek out, take in the smell of the coffee, and head for the kitchen. Sitting on the counter is a mug, already filled, two pieces of warm toast, and a jar of plum jam.

But Seungmin isn’t here.

Cold air hits you where you’re standing, and you follow it back to his bedroom—to the slowly moving curtains covering the sliding door of the balcony. The bed is empty and made, and there’s a fresh tshirt and pair of sweatpants sitting at the corner. You’ll have to assume they’re for you, and you're thankful for them. It's freezing in here again. You change before returning to the curtains, and very carefully, very quietly, pull them aside just enough to look out.

Seungmin is sitting cross-legged on the ground, hands neatly in his lap. He’s leaning a little, so his head is resting on the wall closest to him. You know he must be cold, because he’s only in the tshirt and shorts he wore to bed, and you also know he’s out there because he wants, or needs to be alone. So you leave him alone. You return to your coffee and the breakfast he made, and you wait.

[flameofthescorpion]

And so Icarus fell into the ocean

WARNING: Plays after the events of Transformers One, spoilers Ahead! Please watch the movie first before reading this all!

Canon-divergance!

also warning, both characters are assholes --------0--------

Sentinel laid on the cold floor of Iacon’s metal surface, his final resting place as his fading spark watched with his weakening senses as D-16, or rather Megatron, was banished from the once Grand City temporarily turned battleground. As his thoughts started to blur, as his hatred for the new Prime started to fade and go numb. The new glows of blue hues started to blur and dance in his remaining vision; he felt a presence, as if Death himself had decided to claim his very spark instead of letting it simply fade.

He could not hear the sound of pedes heading into his direction. He could feel it. Feel as the ground next to him aggressively shifted as the figure came closer, as if it was trying to avoid the mech without much success, the air filled with electrical tension to the point Sentinels frame lightly prickled.

“It's a shame really.”

Sentinel heard a gruff, dull and nearly drowned out voice next to his dying body, his auditory receptors barely able to differentiate clear words from white noise. Yet he could make out the disappointment in the bot's tone, not melancholy for his fate, no, closer to simple disappointment and even boredom. For the mech, it seems almost like some sort of entertainment value had been lost. ”I really thought you would have lasted longer. The great Sentinel Prime himself. You may have been a sleazy traitor but being beaten by a bunch of miners. a group of bots BENEATH your greatness? Tsk tsk tsk.”

Sentinel slowly saw as the bot walked into his vision. Due to laying on the floor, currently bleeding dry, he could only look at the bot's pedes as they seemed to circle him, analyze him. He could not tell much about the bot, his voice was alien and his frame seemed to have a golden color, similar to Sentinel’s wings in tone. “But I could help you turn the tables, I could give you everything back you once loved. everything you have lost and so much more, and unlike the quintessons I do not want to be compensated in precious Energon, oh no no, i just want you to complete a few…errands for me, errands where I am sure we can come to a mutual understanding. For example, we both want Optimus Prime dead, no?”

The false Prime didn't know what was worse, the constant pacing, or the fact that the bot was speaking in such an indifferent tone, as if he wasn't talking to a bot about to die. Save him? How was that supposed to work? Something did not add up, yet the promise of getting everything back was so luring. “A great Prime such as yourself does not deserve such a fate. What does it matter? You did some shady deals, you had kept us safe after all, even if it came at a price, that is what no one else understands. You are our true savior yet these fools were so blinded by Primus and his choice of messiah that they do not realize. You and me. How about we make them realize?”

Sentinel debated mentally with what strength he had left, already seeming to the point of numbing sensations and desperate thinking that he didn't even know how the figure hissed out Primus’ designation like it was a toxic poison. He would have everything back? everything? He did not even have to try to speak out that a deal was a deal before the bot spoke up again. “Save your words, I know the answer.”

Was all Sentinel could make out before passing out from having lost too much of his own life force, thinking this was all going to slow, nothing was going to matter anymore and that he simply wouldn't activate again.

However fate had other plans as he came back online in what seemed to be an abandoned medical office, the air stagnant and the silence deafening. He slowly sat back up from the medical berth he was resting on.

Observing his own self he could see how his colors seemed to have significantly darkened, his once deep and rich blue resembling more the tones of gray or black with blue tints. His wings seemed to be intact for the most part only to have become jagged and blackened, a far cry from the gold they once were. Even his optics have become “stained” as his reflection showed them how they have become the colors of a golden flame. Yet the most concerning detail was his torso, large scarring seen on the ripping seams, making him believe he was simply just welded back together instead of having had any qualified medic look at him. Going over those scars however he could tell everything worked like it was supposed to. 

“Active?”

Sentinel recognized that voice, instantly tensing. Turning around to finally analyze the bot who had helped him for no reason it seemed. He was definitely right with his prior thoughts of the bot being mostly golden coloured, yet some details seemed so…wrong. Optics such a deep purple that it seemed almost unreal to look at them, and a wolfish grin revealing plenty of sharp teeth, especially the canines which were more fangs than anything. Sentinel could make out Alt mode details on the bot, they were cogged, but yet he had never seen this individual before. Someone completely new. They had wings, that must mean the bot was some sort of aerial cybertronian. In a way it was almost like looking into some kind of twisted mirror image of himself, it was uncanny to say the least.

“You owe me an explanation.”

Sentinel huffed out in slight irritation, he was in no mood to put up an act after nearly dieing

“Who are you, why are you helping me?” He added, as he kept a steady position, he couldn't let the bot know that he was somewhat intimidated by their appearance after all, he? of all bots? intimidated? No. At least he shall not show that he is.

“A mere fan of your work, an admirer. a fan you could say.” The figure spoke again as they walked out of the shadows, their facial plates were white similar to Sentinels which only further intensified their purple optics that had locked onto the false Prime. “My name is not noteworthy. I doubt it is of any importance for someone like you.”

The bot replied, their words composed and tone showing indifference.

“I would like to know the name of the bot who is going to be my business partner.” Sentinel doubled down. Finding it suspicious how his new partner was not willing to even give out their designation. “Tsk. See it this way. If you get caught, you can't say it was me who helped you because you can't refer to me, I won't suffer just because you made a mistake. it is a mere safety net for me.”

The same way Sentinel doubled down, so did the other individual in the room. While Sentinel held his ground, the other bot was starting to get a rather annoyed attitude, clearly not enjoying being talked to like that. Sentinel was still before finally dropping the matter, cutting the clear tension in the room. The golden bot seemed to mirror his action, demeanor switching back to indifference as they took a big vent in “Do we not have more urgent matters to address?” Sentinel hated how the other seemed to try taking the lead in this all. HE was the Prime, HE was entitled to be in the higher position of the two, yet he was smarter than go against someone who clearly had just welded him back together. The air still thick he relented and accepted the fact that the other would have the lead for now, but his time would come.

“Listen to me, Sentinel. I don't see why you should do any errands for me NOW. we have time with everyone figuring out how to lead things without you.” Sentinel perked up as the other bot essentially started to circle him again.

“You told me I would get everything back.”

Sentinel stated matter of fact, he wanted to see what hook this…creature had in its deals.

“Patience, patience. With time. It's not instantaneous. Why not start off small with that task? Who was at fault for this all?”

The figure questioned as they grabbed one of his servos, urging him to leave the empty medical bay with them.

“Optimus Prime and Megatron.”

Sentinel scoffed out, as if the answer was obvious. “Was that REALLY where things got out of servo? Was it?”

The individual questioned, leading them out to the abandoned halls, the debris in the dusty walls showing how long this station had really been abandoned as he began to think. “If Darkwing just would have done his task correctly then.-” “None of this would have happened.”

The figure completed the sentence for him as they let go of his servo. Leaving him on his own for now. “Tell you what. Why don't you go your own path for a while, and I will just call you once it's time to hold up your side of the deal, yes?”They did not give Sentinel the entitlement to even answer as they walked off and disappeared behind a corner. Sentinel picked up the pace, in confusion before turning the corner and seeing no sight of them. What is this thing? Not a Cybertronian that was clear, and that worried him. However, this entity was right, he had an open bill, and he would destroy anyone in his way, they betrayed him, they all did.

Wandering the silent halls he began to think, to plan. He could not just run into danger afterall, Darkwing wasn't an issue however someone in the possession of the matrix of leadership very much is and that isn't if the Quintessons haven't already noticed some things off and started the war all over again. However he found solace in the fact that Optimus and Megatron have been separated and thus he wouldn't have to face them at once, Optimus’ little friends however were another thing, afterall Optimus did not achieve all of this by himself, they managed to turn everyone against him. He paced angrily, no no, Optimus shouldn't be on his mind, he should keep his mind on the next step instead, and that is Darkwing. If Darkwing would have just appropriately gotten rid of him like he insinuated, then none of this would have happened in the first place and Darkwing was much easier to beat than his other options as of current since his “guardian angel” will quite clearly not assist him in this. Repositioning his wings he made up his mind, first Darkwing, and then he will plan accordingly to take out his bigger enemies, something in his mind truly just tells him to go ahead and cause as much as chaos as was possible, mayhaps it was revenge, or maybe it was something else, but Sentinel could care less. He was alive. That was good enough for now. 

Darkwing was easy enough to find, due to the new Prime’s rule changes deaths are minimized. All Sentinel had to do was find where Darkwing is holed up and then snuff out his miserable spark for being a failure in his book.

However the problem was that he couldn't get spotted, everyone would probably think he was some sort of horrific demon, well in their defense he did not exactly look the best either. But that was an issue for later, he had one advantage to this situation, they thought he was dead, so if that is the case all he had to do was take out Darkwing without being seen and they would never suspect him. That gave him an idea.

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

Silently he crept through the dark night, trying to remain in the shadows of Iacon, his dark colouration giving him the advantage now that the city was only partially lit up. The false prime had been to 3 holding cells he had knowledge of already, and Darkwing was in none of them, he had around 5 to go and he knew his chances of finding Darkwing would increase each time. He had made up his mind by freeing Darkwing first and once the mech was away enough from society that was when he was going to strike. Just like how he used to do it, he could stage this as a simple accident while Darkwing was breaking out and before anyone would find out what really happened, Sentinel was long gone before they could patrol the city.

As the false Prime checked out the next holding cell he couldn't help but wonder who to next take out. He wouldn't let Megatron and especially Optimus get out of this alive, HE would get the last laugh, he supposed Megatron due to being banished would be a next appropriate target before taking on the new Prime himself, he would claim the Matrix, as he was supposed to claim it first before Primus dared robbing him of his rightful place. The thought of Primus alone gave him a feeling of frustration and even disgust. He WILL get the Matrix of Leadership. HE was the rightful owner!

Sentinel was snapped out of his thoughts when he finally spotted Darkwing from the shadows, now he couldn't let Darkwing see him, or else the fool would shout or scream or whatever to alert the guards either on purpose or on accident. So he waited…and waited and waited.

Waiting until Darkwing went to recharge before fiddling with the Lock, now having claws made that very difficult and it felt like an eternity before he managed to unlock the cell. Slowly approaching he attempted to wake Darkwing, slowly shaking him as to not immediately startle him online, afterall Sentinel needed a while to back up. Slowly noticing Darkwing coming online, the false Prime ran off, leaving the door wide open so Darkwing gets the point and once again waiting in the safety of the darkness he had gotten so used to.

At first Darkwing seemed unsure, looking around for any present guards who seemed suspiciously absent, which was Sentinels doing, they weren't dead to say just…out of service for a while. Yet Darkwing didn't seem to know that.

Darkwing eventually took the opportunity, foolishly sneaking off while the guards were still out like a light, not knowing he was running right into his death.

Sentinel took up the chase, just far away enough to not be on Darkwings radar until they were far away enough from the facility before catching up to Darkwing and giving him a swift end by piercing his spark with what seemed to be built in blades on his forearms…since when?- Does not matter. His “guardian angel” must have had something to do with this.

A shame really, Sentinel would have loved if Darkwing would have at least put up a fight but it'll do. As he positioned Darkwing to make it look like his death was a simple accident on Darkwings part he felt a prickle in his back struts, electricity gathering in the air, he expected to turn around and be faced by a firearm but instead he was faced by his “angel” once again.

How long had they been following him? Did they see everything? “Who are you?! And this time do not give me a vague answer!” Sentinel demanded as he approached the mech, who slightly backed off, not in any fear, more irritation and bitterness as their facial plates contorted in an expression of unamusement and frustration. Their body language slightly hostile and wings in a defensive position as their purple optics locked onto the false Prime with their teeth nearly beared in snear as they approached him again, seemingly fed up with the attitude they had been given until now. “Someone you really should not have deleted from the archive records, Sentinel.”

[ryker-writes]

Sibling with a chronic illness (part 2)

This is a second part to one of my favorite things I've written! It's basically angst with the characters who have a younger sibling with a chronic illness and they keep it hidden from their older sibling because they don't want them to suffer more. The younger sibling ends up going into a coma and the doctor reveals to the character that they don't have much time left

First part here

Request rules and Masterlists

Characters: Riddle, Azul, Kalim, Vil

Riddle:

perfection

it was demanded of you from you and Riddle's mother and you were raised to eternally abide by that

anything less than the perfect life that your mother had planned was not accepted

but life always had a funny way of twisting things around

so when you got sick, you kept it hidden from everyone in fear of your mom finding out

and everyone included Riddle

you loved Riddle, and he was a very good brother, but he was...a lot like her and a natural worrier

Riddle had already been through so much with his overblot, and you didn't want to bring more negative feelings upon him

he deserved to be happy and you didn't want to disturb that at all

so you kept it from him

of course, it wasn't that easy

as time passed, you grew more sick, and even started coughing up blood

you were lucky enough that Riddle didn't notice how often you went to the bathroom to cough up blood

but he did notice once that you had a red stain on your clothing

Heartslabyul was often full of red paint for the roses and you were able to convince him it was just paint

it wasn't an act you could keep up forever

as the days went by, you could feel yourself growing weaker and weaker

the worst of it was at an unbirthday party

as usual, Riddle had pushed everyone to make sure this party was incredible

it was exausting, but you pushed yourself to get through it

...maybe you pushed yourself too hard

because when it was time to actually celebrate, the world started spinning and you felt your legs give out from under you before...nothing

Riddle nearly had a heart attack when you collapsed

of course, the party was immediately cast aside as he started shouting orders to the others before taking you to the infirmary

Riddle had never walked through the school faster, in fact he was running

A school rule was not to run in the halls, but right now, he didn't care

No one wanted to get in his way

but upon bringing you to the infirmary, he received the worst news

you were in a coma, and you were dying

Riddle felt stupid

how could he not know? How could he not see the signs?

His own sibling was dying and he couldn't do anything about it

he'd never felt so...helpless

his own mother was a doctor, he should've noticed sooner

he should've helped you

why? why would you hide it from him?

you two were supposed to be close and be able to tell each other anything

but you didn't tell him, and he could do nothing

Riddle had decided to remain by your side for as long as he could, even if it meant not attending classes

because you were more important to him than any rule could ever be

Azul:

Azul an you have always been very close as siblings

growing up, you were about the only one he had for a long time

you were his strength when he was sad and crying because of what others would say

even as you two kept growing and he grew stronger, you two were just as close as ever

he told you everything

you told him...almost everything

there was one thing you didn't tell him: you were sick

it wasn't any normal sickness either, this one won't go away

but you just couldn't tell Azul

you were his strength, and he had come so far from the octomer he used to be

he wasn't as sad anymore and he was doing really well for himself now

and you...you didn't want to ruin that

you'd hate to see him cry again

so you kept it to yourself and Azul was blissfully unaware

he never commented on how you would quickly run off to the bathroom to cough up blood

perhaps he was too buried in his work to even notice

not that you minded, it made it easier to hide

you just had to be careful around the observant eyes of Jade

he would likely report anything suspicious he saw about your behavior to Azul

since no one ever confronted you about it, you assumed that he didn't notice

however...there was no way Azul didn't notice when you collapsed onto the floor of the VIP room

it was right in front of him too

to say Azul was panicking when he saw you collapse was an understatement

he thought his heart nearly stopped, and he was desperately hoping that didn't happen to you

Azul was quick to abandon his current work to take you to the infirmary

it was there that he thought his heart actually did stop

the doctor told him that you had fallen into a coma after collapsing, and you didn't have much time left

he'd be lying if he said he didn't blame himself

you two were supposed to be able to tell each other anything, but you kept this big secret from him for who knows how long

now here you were, laying unconscious in the infirmary bed with Azul by your side

he wasn't going to leave your side, but he also wasn't just going to sit around and do nothing

the Monstro Lounge was being run by Jade during Azul's absence and Azul spent nearly every waking moment by your side studying and researching to find anything that could help you

he was determined there was some way to help you

the doctors just haven't found it yet

you were his sibling, and Azul needed you with him through everything

you were always his support, but now it was his time to be yours

and for you, he would pay any price and make any deal just for you to be awake again

Kalim:

Kalim was always so happy

Even as you two were growing up, his cheerful energy always brightened any room

he was an amazing older brother

whenever you were feeling down, he would do anything he could just to see you smile again

it was very rare to ever see him sad or upset about something

that's exactly why you couldn't tell him the truth

you were very sick, to the point that you were even coughing up blood

thankfully Kalim never seemed to notice

he was always lost in his little world, and trying to get others to join him

if you were being honest, seeing how happy he always was brought you comfort despite your illness

Kalim deserves to be happy

But telling him would mean getting rid of his smile, and you just couldn't do that to him

so you kept it hidden

Kalim was blissfully unaware of your growing sickness and how it seemed to get worse each passing day

even when you got to the point of coughing up blood, he never noticed

in a way you've very happy to have a brother who doesn't pay such close attention

but that would only last so long

after all, it's hard not to notice his sibling passing out at one of his own parties

and for once, the party was put aside regardless who or what it was thrown for

you were a bigger priority to him than any party

Kalim hated to leave parties, but he didn't think twice about it this time

he took you to the infirmary while Jamil handled the aftermath of panic at the party

the entire way to the infirmary, Kalim was fighting tears

he was just so worried

it only seemed to get worse once the doctor saw you, and gave Kalim the bad news

you had fallen into a coma, and you didn't have much time left

Kalim sat in disbelief for a few minutes after that

his sibling...was dying?

how could this happen?

how did he not know?

why didn't you tell him?

there has to be a cure right?

the doctor had told him there wasn't a cure, and Kalim was destroyed

Kalim was lost

he didn't know what to do, but he couldn't just carry on while you were there in a coma

so he waited patiently by your bedside for the day when you would finally wake up

he spent his days rambling to you about things he heard are going on around the school

and he spent his nights crying and quietly begging for you to wake up

Vil:

growing up as a Schoenheit, there was a certain pressure to always look and be your best outside your home

Your brother Vil, was always there to help you with that

he was always accepting of you and helping you whenever you needed it

and when you weren't your best in public, Vil always covered for you

even when you weren't in public, Vil was there for you

that's probably why it was so hard to tell him what the doctor said

the truth was that you were sick, and there was no cure

but how were you supposed to tell Vil that?

you knew that if he found out, he would deny that there's no cure and even cancel a lot of his appointments to find a cure or help you

those jobs of his and all his appointments...that's his career

it's what makes him happy

you couldn't bring yourself to tell him and put a stop to that

he would try to help you and take care of you all the time as kids, so you thought maybe this time, you can do what's best for him

but it was hard to keep it hidden

Vil was observant, and Rook being around all the time didn't help

you would often rush off to the bathroom only to cough up blood, but you had to be extra careful not to have a single stain on you or anywhere in the bathroom in case they notice

even if you were sure there wasn't a stain, one of them would often ask if you were okay

you were always quick to say you were, but you often wonder if they've caught on

maybe they should have

because as the days passed, your illness got worse

you could feel your body getting weaker, and everything seemed more bittersweet

something wasn't right with you, you could tell

and you should've said something

Vil had you come to his room like usual so the two of you could do his special skin care routine

it was usually a very nice time for the two of you to chat and hang out without other people staring at you

but Vil knew something was wrong the second your eyes started closing

"Are you alright? You shouldn't be tired so early."

Vil lightly shook you when you didn't respond before realizing that you were unconscious

without a moment of hesitation, he abandoned the skin care routine in favor of taking you to the infirmary

the students of Night Raven College were shocked

THE Vil Schoenheit was walking around with a halfway done skin care routine, and he looked slightly distressed

rumors were quick to spread, Vil didn't care

you were his priority right now

he didn't care what anyone was thinking, until the doctor revealed the truth to him

you were in a coma and you didn't have much time left

at that point, he only cared what you were thinking

how could you not tell him?

Why didn't you tell him?

He tried to think of many reasons, not a single one good enough

and how did he not notice?

Vil used to pride himself on knowing when you needed help and being there

it was part of your bond as siblings

but you needed help all this time, and he wasn't there

you kept him from helping

he was angry and heartbroken

even though you were unconscious, he spent a lot of time lecturing you about how stupid you were for hiding this from him

whenever Rook or anyone else was there to check on you or him, he would smile and calmly tell them that you were going to be fine

he didn't seem worried in the slightest

but it's only after everyone left that he held your hand and let the tears fall

he didn't care about the mascara running down his face, how his eyes would be puffy after, how horrible his posture is, or even how messy his hair and clothing looked right now

all he cared about was you waking up

[schrodingerspsycho]

Another Shot - Chapter 2

Pairing - Sam Carpenter x Reader

Warnings - Mentions of alcohol, addiction, weed

Word Count - 5.1k

Summary - (Some of) the truth comes out. Tensions rise between you and Sam.

Chapter 1

Help Palestine by clicking this link!🇵🇸

You couldn’t sleep. Of course, you couldn’t. Sam Carpenter was in New York City.

All the memories you’d tried so hard to repress had come flooding back in full force, washing over you like a tidal wave. It hurt more than you would’ve imagined. And that fucking look in her eyes. As if she had any right to be angry with you. It made your blood boil. God, you wished you could hate her.

But you couldn’t. Yes, the memories were bitter, but they were still oh-so-sweet. You wanted nothing more than to crawl back to that better time when she was by your side and you were happy, uncaring of how the broken glass cut your hands and knees along the way. Then you remembered that fucking face, and you knew you couldn’t do that either.

You groaned and rubbed your eyes, which still ached from crying, and rolled over to stare at the clock. It was four in the morning. You wanted a drink. How ironic, Sam made you want to drink.

Instead, you opted for the one vice you still allowed yourself; weed. You stepped onto the balcony as you lit up, pulling your blanket tight around your shoulders. Just a few hits to help you sleep, you told yourself. The high would pass before your shift started. And just this once, you let that be a lie.

Luckily, you had an afternoon shift, and the weed was completely out of your system by the time you clocked in. Not that anyone would have cared, you wouldn’t be the first person to show up to work high. But you didn’t want to risk it. You couldn’t lose this job. So you made an effort to push Sam far from your mind and man the counter with a smile on your face. And it would’ve worked too, if it weren’t for her meddling little sister.

“Hey, Tara!” you smiled when she walked in. She waved back, clearly distracted. You took no notice, turning back to the lobby to go about your business. But Tara stepped out in front of you, blocking your path and nearly making you drop the menus you were carrying. “Shit! What the hell, dude? Don’t sneak up on me like that!” you cried.

“I want to know what happened,” she said, ignoring you. “Sam wouldn’t tell me.”

You stared at her. “Are you serious? I told you to drop it.”

“You didn’t really think that was going to stop me, did you?”

You sighed. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, or maybe you were secretly dying to unload all the memories clogging your brain. And talking about your feelings was supposed to help, right? “If I tell you, you can never bring this up again, got it?”

“Got it.” She crossed her finger over her heart, excitement shining in her eyes. You hoped she wouldn’t regret asking for the truth.

“If you can get Jay to give us our breaks at the same time, I’ll tell you then.”

Tara nodded and rushed off to find your manager, finally leaving you in peace. Maybe after this, you would finally be able to put it all behind you. And if Sam didn’t want Tara to know… then perhaps you could relive it after all. Sure, it was petty. But after everything she’d put you through, you deserved to be a little petty.

Jay must’ve been in a good mood because he granted Tara’s request. She didn’t mention her sister again for the first half of the shift, choosing instead to gush about how Chad had surprised her by taking her out for breakfast that morning. You listened eagerly, glad to finally put a face to the name you’d heard so many times.

“He’s going to come in to have lunch with me tomorrow,” she smiled. “Are you working the morning shift? I want you to actually meet him. I think you’d get along.”

“Yeah, I’m working a double tomorrow. I look forward to it.”

“Yay!” she exclaimed, and you grinned back at her. She’d only been working at the diner for two weeks, and she’d already become one of your best friends. You hadn’t grown so close with someone so quickly since… well, you knew where she got her charm.

Your break time seemed to arrive faster than ever, and you steeled yourself for your unorthodox therapy session as you made your sandwich. Tara was watching you like a hawk as if she expected you to run away.

“You sure you wanna do this?” you asked her. “Last chance to change your mind.”

“You have to know that only makes me more desperate to hear this story.”

“Fine,” you sighed. You led her into the break room and shut the door, making sure no one would overhear. She gazed up at you, her eyes wide and serious now as you sat next to her on the couch.

“Take your time,” she said softly. You nodded in appreciation, and with a deep, shuddering breath, you began.

“We met through a Facebook group four years ago. It was for young people in Modesto who were trying to get sober. Like a support group, but without the stuffiness of AA.”

“Wait, when you say sober, you mean-”

“Alcoholics,” you nodded, a grim look on your face. “Some people were addicted to other things too, and we did what we could to help. Mostly cigarettes, like your sister. She’d weaned herself off the harder drugs by that point, thankfully. We would have meetings in coffee shops and cafes, and sometimes people would host at their apartments during the week. Then we would all go out to clubs or parties together on the weekend.”

Tara stared at you, bewildered. “What? How is that helpful?”

“It wasn’t. The idea was that we would do all our drinking in one night and stay sober the rest of the week, but there weren’t any professionals involved. Most people at least thought they wanted to get sober, but we all wanted to drink more. It was still better than getting hammered every night, but not by too much.” You swallowed, and your hands started fidgeting; one of your nervous habits. You hadn’t spoken this much about your alcohol problems in a long time. “Anyway, that’s how we met. I don’t remember which one of us joined the group first, it’s been such a long time. I mean, your sister was still using a fake ID to get booze back then!” You chuckled at the memory. “But we became friends pretty quickly. Then we realized our apartments were only a neighborhood away from each other, so we started going to meetings together. And after about a year of being friends, we started- well…”

“You started dating?”

You let out a hollow laugh. “God, no. She never would’ve made a commitment like that. She was kind of infamous for it, actually.” You took a swig of your soda, hoping to dowse the heat you felt rising in your cheeks. “But we were probably the closest thing to it. We were together just about every other night, we knew each other better than anyone, she knew I wasn’t seeing anyone else and after a while, she stopped seeing other people too. Pretty much all we would’ve had to do was say the words. But that was the problem. She never wanted to talk about anything real. Her past, her feelings, our relationship, nothing. I knew who she was, but I didn’t know anything about her. And believe me, when you drink with someone for that long, you get to know them really well. She knew how I felt about her, how much I cared for her, and she just wouldn’t reciprocate. But I told myself that being with her was enough. And maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. I don’t even remember.”

“Then what happened?” Tara asked, her voice small.

“About a year into us being… whatever we were, there was… an incident. We went out together, without the group, to a house party. That I invited her to. And we were having fun, y’know, drinking, dancing, just having a grand ol’ time. Then she asked me to go to the bar to get her another shot.” You ran your hand through your hair to try to quell the agitation bristling in your chest. “It took me two minutes to push through the crowd, get the drinks, and come back. Two minutes. But when I came back, she was… she was…” Angry tears welled up in your eyes, and you turned away from Tara. You hated that it still had such a hold on you, even after all this time.

Tara laid a shaking hand on your back and you let out a strangled sob. Why was this so fucking hard? You felt like you were back there, the pounding of your heart drowning out the loud music, your vision blurring, the taste of vodka burning your throat, and the feel of your stomach dropping down to hell.

“She was making out with someone else,” you croaked. Tara’s hand stilled, and from the corner of your eye, you saw her mouth open in a silent gasp. “It was some- some guy. Just a random, boring-ass guy. She didn’t even know his name. And when I asked her what the hell she was doing, she laughed. Like it was all just some big fucking joke.” Your fists were clenched, and you could feel your fingernails digging into your palms. Then the tears finally began to fall. “She told me we were nothing. That I meant nothing.”

“I… I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Tara breathed. You leaned back against the couch and wiped your eyes, chuckling in spite of yourself.

“We were both drunk and angry, so what happened next is kind of a blur. But we started shouting at each other, and I think I was crying. I don’t know. Then she slapped the drink out of my hand and spat in my face.”

“She what?” Tara uttered, appalled. You laughed again. It was a sinister sound, but Tara didn’t seem to notice and you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“That was actually the most normal thing she did that night,” you said, to Tara’s growing horror. “She’s an aggressive drunk, and it was far from the first time she’d spat at me. But she’d never done it as an insult before.”

“That’s disgusting,” Tara said. You finally turned to look at her.

“I want you to know, I’m not trying to make you think badly of your sister or anything. I think it’s great that you’re talking again, and I would never do anything to hurt your relationship. I’m just telling you my side of the story.”

“I know,” Tara assured you. “Thank you.”

You shook your head. “I’m not even upset that she didn’t feel the same way. I just wanted her to be happy, and we weren’t even together. But she just had to let me down in the cruelest way possible. She knew how much she was hurting me, and she did it anyway. With a smile on her face.”

“That’s fucking bullshit,” Tara grumbled, and you gave her a brief smile. “So what happened after that?”

“Well, I went home, and the next day I found out she had blocked me on everything. She even left the Facebook group. And the next thing I know, I hear she’s calling this guy her boyfriend and switched to a new shitty, minimum-wage job so she could work with him. She led me on for a whole year, then committed to him in one night. I lost my partner and my best friend at the same time. In two fucking minutes.”

You sat in silence for several moments, the conversation weighing heavily on both of you. When Tara finally spoke, her voice was thick with emotion.

“Thank you for telling me all of this. I know it wasn’t easy for you to relive it. I’m sorry she did that to you, and I’m sorry that I’ve brought it all back-”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” you insisted. “She’s your sister, and you can’t help that I have a history with her. What happened with us- whatever happens with us- none of it is your fault.” She nodded, but the look in her eyes told you she didn’t believe it. “She told me about you, y’know.”

“She did?”

“Oh, yeah. I could never get her to talk about herself, but if you got enough alcohol in her, she wouldn’t shut up about her baby sister.” You grinned at Tara, and she smiled back. “You’re exactly the way she described you.”

“I’m gonna assume that’s a compliment,” she chuckled. Then her expression turned serious. “I really am sorry that she did that to you, Y/N. It’s… it’s horrible. But I can promise you, Sam’s changed. She’s sober now, and she’s reliable. She’s done so much work to be a better person. She would never do something like that now.”

You gave Tara a sad smile. “I’m happy to hear that, I really am. But I’m going to need her to prove that to me herself.”

“C’mon, Mindy, let’s go.”

“Can’t we just stay in our rooms? We won’t interrupt-”

“No.”

“She said she’d tell us later, let’s just give them some space.”

“Fine.”

Sam put down her book. The twins had been quietly doing their homework on the couch for the last hour, giving her a much-needed respite after the back-to-back six-hour shifts she’d worked at her two jobs today. But now their hushed voices roused her, drawing her from her room in time to see Tara ushering them out the door. “Hey, how was work?” she asked nervously. She didn’t like the serious look on Tara’s face.

“It was fine,” she said with a sigh. “We need to talk, Sam.”

Sam felt her heart rate spike, and her mouth went dry as her palms started to sweat. Truthfully, hearing those words from Tara was more terrifying than the five Ghostfaces she’d faced. She nodded numbly and took a seat at the kitchen table, following Tara’s lead.

“Y/N told me what happened between you two,” Tara began, and Sam’s breath hitched. She knew she should’ve expected this, but it caught her off guard all the same. “I don’t believe they would lie to me, but I have to ask… did you really cheat on them? After leading them on for a year?”

“Yes. I did.” Sam felt like crying. Having you as a reminder of her mistakes was bad enough, but now Tara was judging her too. She wanted to beg you both for forgiveness, but she knew she didn’t deserve it.

“Jesus, Sam,” Tara groaned, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “That’s really shitty. Do you know how broken up Y/N still is about it?”

“I know. I’m so sorry, I-”

“I’m not mad at you, Sam.”

“You’re… you’re not?”

“No,” Tara said with a small smile. “I’ve forgiven you for worse. And I know you’ve changed. We don’t need to talk about what happened.”

“Then what do you want to talk about?”

Tara grinned. “Do you still love them?”

“What?” Sam stared at her, shocked. “Who-who said anything about love?”

“Okay, fine. Do you still like them?” she corrected, rolling her eyes.

Sam gaped at her as her cheeks started to burn. “It doesn’t matter how I feel. Y/N doesn’t want anything to do with me, and I need to respect that.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Did you see how they looked at me?” she deflected, beginning to sound choked up. “They hate me. And they have every right to.”

“They don’t hate you, Sam,” Tara said kindly, placing a comforting hand over her own. “Trust me. Yes, they’re hurt. Really hurt. But they wouldn’t be if they had moved on.”

“Or if I hadn’t cheated on them and treated them like shit,” Sam mumbled. She leaned against the table and put her head in her hand. Just like mom.

“I think you were wrong,” Tara said, ignoring her. “There is something you can do about it now.”

“Oh yeah, and what’s that?”

“You can apologize!” she smiled.

“You don’t really think it’s that simple, do you?” Sam scoffed. “Apologizing doesn’t just make things go away, Tara. Not something like this. It won’t mean anything.”

“Yes, it will,” she said softly. “It’ll show them that you’ve changed and that you know it was wrong to cheat on them. It’ll let them know that you’ll be a better person if you start talking again. I mean, sure, it’s not gonna fix everything right away, but it would be a start.”

Sam shook her head. “That’s not enough. It wouldn’t be enough.”

Tara sighed. “Will you at least answer my question?”

“What question?”

“Do you still have feelings for Y/N?”

Sam stood up abruptly and turned away from Tara. She ran her hands through her hair and took a deep breath. “Where did you send the twins off to?”

“Seriously, Sam? Are you really just going to ignore me?”

“I was thinking I could make spaghetti for dinner, does that sound good?”

Tara glared at her incredulously. “You are unbelievable,” she said, standing up and stomping toward her room. She slammed the door, and Sam stared at it for a long moment. Despite everything, Tara was an optimist, and Sam admired her for it. But two little words wouldn’t mean anything in the face of what she’d done to you. No matter how much she wished it could.

After telling Tara the truth, the rest of your shift had felt awkward, with both of you staying uncharacteristically silent when you weren’t talking to customers. But luckily, everything was back to normal the next morning. You had teased her for being a few minutes late, she teased you for always arriving early, and you passed the time by joking around like you always did. She once again asked Jay if you could take your breaks together, and he once again obliged.

“Dang, he must really like you,” you smiled at her. “He never would’ve said yes if I asked him.”

She shrugged. “I’m very likable.”

“Yeah, you are. Little manager’s pet.”

“Maybe I’ll ask him not to give you a break at all.”

“What, am I suddenly not good enough to meet your boyfriend?”

“No, I’m excited for you to meet him,” she grinned. “He’s excited to meet you, too.”

“Then it sounds like we’re all excited. It’s going to be a very exciting lunch break.”

“Oh, shut up,” she said, nudging you playfully as she went to make another pot of coffee. Usually, it was all the customers ordered at this time of day, which made the morning shifts more bearable. You were able to hang out and talk with each other while they finished their nearly forgotten homework and nursed their hangovers, frying up some eggs, bacon, and hashbrowns every now and then. It made the time fly, and soon Jay was calling you and Tara to go on break.

Chad arrived just as you finished making your food, announced by Tara’s squeal of delight. She ran to him and leapt into his arms, and he spun her around gleefully. The few customers in the lobby didn’t even look up from their phones.

“Y/N, get over here! I want you to actually meet Chad!” Tara called, beckoning you with her hand. You smiled and headed over, your tray of food in hand.

“Shouldn’t you let him order first?”

“No, it’s fine. He doesn’t need to eat,” she smirked. He gave her a look of feigned offense.

“Excuse you, I’m very hungry. I ate a very light breakfast so I would have room for an amazing lunch made by my beautiful girlfriend.”

“I’m not gonna make your food, I’m on break,” she said, turning to face him. “That was really stupid of you to not eat.”

“Well, then what did I come here for?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

“You’re breaking my heart, you know that, Tara? You’re breaking your boyfriend’s heart.”

“Oh, please, you eat enough of my cooking at home,” she grinned, leaning in closer.

“Anyway, I’m Chad! It’s nice to meet you,” he smiled, looking up quickly when he remembered you were there. Tara blushed.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you chuckled. “I’m Y/N. Tara’s told me a lot about you.”

“All good things, I hope?”

“Mostly.”

He grinned. “Well, I’m going to go order some food made by a stranger, and then I’ll join you.”

Tara stuck her tongue out at him as he left, and you followed her to the table where she had set her food. “Sorry about that,” she said sheepishly as you sat down.

“Don’t worry about it. You two are adorable.”

“Thanks,” she smiled.

After a few moments of eating in silence, Chad joined you once again. “Alright, where were we?” he asked, sliding into the booth next to Tara. You looked at his tray and smirked at her. He’d ordered exactly what she’d said he would.

“You were about to tell me about yourself,” you prompted. He smiled.

“Well, I’m Tara’s amazing boyfriend who’s known her since we were five, I’m studying sports medicine at Blackmore, I was the offensive lineman on my high school football team, Mindy is my twin sister, and my favorite Pokémon is Meganium. What else do you want to know?”

You laughed and Tara raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, that’s certainly an introduction,” you remarked.

“What? Those are important things to know about me!”

“They sure are, babe. You’re doing great,” Tara said, patting his arm.

“And you said you go to NYU, right? What are you studying?” he asked.

“Oh, I don’t start until next year, but I’m going to study photography. I actually can’t wait to start classes, I’ve been saving up for it for years.”

“That’s really cool! What kind of photography do you do?”

“I want to study different kinds, but I love taking pictures of little moments in regular life. Like the little things that no one notices, the things that tell stories. Candid photography, I guess.”

“That sounds really interesting! I’d love to see some of your photos sometime.”

“Thanks! Yeah, Tara’s been wanting me to show her my portfolio.”

“And yet you keep denying me!” she accused.

“I’ve told you, they don’t look good on my tiny phone screen!” you replied. “I can’t exactly bring my laptop to work, can I?”

“I’m sure we can figure out a time when we can all see your amazing pictures,” Chad said, putting his arm around Tara.

“Yeah, maybe,” you mumbled, blushing a little at the praise. “It’s cool that you were able to go to the same college. And your sister, too. That must be really fun for you guys.”

“Yeah, we’re really lucky we found a place that has a good sports medicine program for me, a poli-sci program for Tara, and a film program for Mindy. Although, we probably would’ve gone to the same school no matter what. It’s important that we stick together. After all, we can’t split up-”

“Do not say it,” Tara scolded him.

“-the Core Four!”

Tara punched him in the chest and he swooped down to kiss her cheek.

“What is the Core Four?” you asked.

“Me, Tara, Mindy, and Sam! It’s what we call our little squad.”

“It’s what you call us,” Tara retorted. “He comes up with these stupid nicknames and doesn’t listen to us when we tell him they’re terrible.”

“Oh, c’mon, you secretly love my nicknames. Don’t you, Taradactyl?”

She looked appalled. “Yeah, that’s an immediate no.”

“But I thought you liked that one!”

“I absolutely do not. Get away from me.”

“Whatever. You like Core Four. You’ve said it.”

“I have not!”

“Yes you did, Sam told me,” he said smugly.

“Lies and slander.”

He stole one of her fries and she tried to shove him out of the booth, a goofy grin on her face. You couldn’t help but chuckle at their antics.

“You two are very entertaining,” you commented.

“Are you making fun of us?” Tara demanded, still grinning.

You put your hands up in surrender. “Not at all. Having a similar sense of humor is important in a relationship. You two seem perfect for each other.”

“Why, thank you, Y/N. I’m glad someone thinks so,” Chad said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If you thought we were perfect for each other, then you would support my nicknames.”

“Oh, shut up,” she groaned, leaning back against him. He kissed the top of her head before turning back to you.

“Speaking of relationships, are you seeing anyone?”

“Nope,” you smiled. “I only moved here a couple of months ago, so I haven’t really had time to meet anybody.”

“Then we need to get on that!” he exclaimed. “We don’t want you to be lonely! I’m pretty sure we know someone your age who you’d get along with. What are you, twenty-four?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m twenty-five, and it’s rude to ask.”

“You’re absolutely right, it is rude. I’m sorry. But you know what, Tara’s sister is right around your age, and she’s single too! Her name is Sam, she’s the absolute coolest, and- hey, didn’t you say you knew her already?”

You shot Tara a look of disbelief, but she avoided your gaze. “I do know her. I was just talking to Tara about her yesterday. And you know what, I just remembered that Sam once showed me some of her baby pictures.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, she wouldn’t stop talking about you,” you said pointedly. “It’s all coming back to me now. Little baby Tara… in the bathtub…”

“Okay, okay! We’ll stop talking about Sam!” Tara cried, her face bright red. You smirked at her.

Shouldn’t have broken your promise, you thought. At least she had the decency to look guilty.

The conversation carried on normally after that, with you and Chad discussing your favorite action movies and comic books. Tara was right, you did get along well. As it turned out, he had already seen the movie you were looking forward to seeing this weekend on your rare Saturday off. Tara had to quiet him before he accidentally spoiled it in his excitement, but he gave it a rave review. It was enough to distract you from the fact that Sam was apparently single again, at least for a little while. And when Jay called you back to work and you bid your goodbyes to Chad, you decided that it had indeed been a very exciting lunch break.

Sam found herself spending her Saturday off at the movies. She hadn’t been to a theater in months for obvious reasons, but Tara knew she wanted to see the new comedy that came out this weekend and convinced her to go. She was anxious like she always was when she was out in public, but she was glad to be spending some quality time with her sister. Saturday matinees used to be their thing, and Tara still bounced on her heels while she waited for her popcorn like she did when she was little.

But something seemed off with her as they walked toward the theater. She kept glancing behind her as if she was looking for something. But before Sam could ask her what was wrong, Tara spun around and slammed into her.

“I think the popcorn needs more- fuck!”

Sam looked down to see the front of her hoodie covered in Tara’s soda.

“Oh, shit! I’m so sorry, Sam!”

“It’s okay,” she sighed. “It was an accident, I’ll be fine. At least it didn’t get on my jeans.”

“Here, I’ll take the popcorn and save our seats. You go get some napkins and clean yourself up,” she said, gazing up at her apologetically. Sam nodded and handed her the bucket.

She pulled the sticky hoodie over her head as she walked, thankful that she had worn a tank top underneath it. And the theater still had the heat on despite the warming weather outside, so she wouldn’t be cold. It was still shaping up to be a pretty good day.

But before she could reach for the napkins, a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you said as you looked up from your freshly buttered popcorn.

“Y/N.”

“Sam.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see a fucking movie, obviously,” you hissed. Sam rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“I should’ve known,” she mumbled, her gaze drifting to where Tara was spying on you from around the corner. Your eyes widened in realization.

“Dammit! That sneaky little- I never should’ve told her my weekend plans.”

“What the fuck did you just say about my sister?”

“Oh, you know damn well this isn’t about Tara! This is about us, and what you did- oh my god!” You had finally turned to look at her, and your eyes immediately went to her arms. Not because her biceps were even more muscular than you remembered, but because of the long, raised scars on her right shoulder and collarbone. Any anger you had been feeling dissipated, replaced with worry and a deep-seated need to protect. “What happened?” you asked softly, instinctively reaching out to comfort her. She flinched back, her eyes startled and scared, and you lowered your arm. She stayed silent, just standing frozen and staring at you like a lost puppy. It made your heart melt, just like it always did. “Sam, are you okay?”

“It’s none of your fucking business,” she snapped after a beat, her expression hardening back into the look of contempt you were starting to get used to. You glared right back at her.

“Fine. I don’t even know why I care,” you snarled. Her scowl faltered, but you just scoffed in disbelief and stomped away. That devilish woman may still have a cruel grip on your heart, but you wouldn’t let her see it.

“Hey, Y/N, I didn’t expect to see you here! How are you?” Tara called, running up to you. But you kept walking, your only response a look of disapproval and hurt.

“What the hell was that?” you heard her demand from Sam. “Why won’t you just apologize to them?”

“I told you, I can’t do that.”

Your vision blurred as you stepped out of earshot, her words hammering the final nail into the coffin of something that died long ago. You knew Tara meant well, but she’d taken it too far. You tried to focus on the movie as you entered the dark theater, but you knew no amount of explosions could save your ruined day.

All because of two minutes with Sam fucking Carpenter.

Taglist: @smut-religiously777

[johnwickb1tsch]

andar conmigo ~ part 15

A Walk in the Clouds/Don John crossover outline/fic- Paul Sutton x fem!Reader x Don John triangle ~ You grow up at Las Nubes vineyard, and have to go home to your dying father. You take your fake new husband, Sgt Paul Sutton, with you...Your old flame don John does not like this at all. Warnings: angst, survivor's trauma, smut, FLUFF chapter map

-You stay together for a few days in the hotel in town to recover from your ordeal. Burns, Paul’s slashed arm, a possible concussion, raw scrapes at your wrists and ankles, and the lacerations upon your back that you feel sharply every time you move. A persistent cough dogs you without mercy, your lungs raw from smoke and the pure heat you’d endured in the inferno. 

Anjélica is able to slip away once to check on you. She tells you that Las Nubes has fallen into chaos. No body was ever recovered from the ruins of the house, but it was such an inferno that there’s no conceivable possibility don Juan survived. You hug your sister tearfully, certain you’ll never be able to return to your childhood home again. You do not know how your misadventure will pan out for the rest of your family, living in the shadow of the Aragóns.

When doña Maria sends a representative to your door to make noises about murder and arson, you tell them you’ll be glad to tell the world in court about what depraved things her son Juan Aragón y Espinosa did to you. The papers will eat up every sordid detail. To people like the Aragóns, saving face is everything. It would be their worst nightmare. 

They went away, and you haven’t heard from them again. 

You are sure they will rebuild, and the winery will go on, eventually under Juan’s younger brother, Pedro, who has been away at school. 

You have mixed feelings about Juan’s death. 

A part of you mourns the loss of your childhood companion. The more logical part of you insists that there was nothing left of that boy in the prideful monster Juan became. He fully intended to destroy you for the sake of his own ego, one way or another. He left you to die, and you should feel nothing for him. 

You always thought you would have been burned as a witch in an earlier century. 

You never imagined it was a fate you might actually face in the present time, had your sister, Paul, and the Veterans, bless them all, not banded together to save you. 

Now you and Paul have harrowing nightmares about your pasts, together. You cling to each other at night in your little room, taking turns soothing the other. 

What a pair you make. 

Paul helps change the dressings upon your shoulders. Some of it will heal, but you will be scarred for the rest of your life by what Juan did. You watch Paul work in the mirror, see the dismay upon his handsome features as he peels back your bandages. The wretched words fall from your lips before you can stop them: “Am I ugly?” 

His touch upon you freezes for a moment, taken aback by the vehemence of your outburst. 

You’re afraid that’s your answer, until he asks a question back: “Do you think my scar is ugly?” 

He surely means the long raised cicatrice that stretches the entire length of his abdomen, a souvenir from war shrapnel that nearly took his life in France. You turn in his arms on the bed to look at it, for he is shirtless behind you, only wearing blue-striped boxer shorts and a bandage around his upper arm, every inch your battered war-hero. Your heart is filled with so much love you fear it might explode, and you climb into his lap with your arms around his shoulders.  

“Of course not,” you answer without falter.  

“Why not?” His hands on your waist anchor you, pulling you closer. There’s no where you feel safer, as though finally you’ve found the place where you belong. You cup his face in your hands, tracing those high cheekbones with your thumbs. His eyes are liquid pools filled with so much earnest yearning–this man is so good, so valiant, so true, and you don’t know what you did to deserve him. 

“Because…I love every part of you, Paul Sutton. I love you.” Realizing the magnitude of this admission, you start to cry, but then somehow, you start to laugh too, ducking to hide in the bend of his neck “I’m so sorry.” 

“For what?” he asks through his own tears and laughter, flummoxed by joy and squeezing you carefully in his strong arms.    

“For…everything. For being me. For what happened. For getting you involved–”

He effectively shuts you up with his mouth on yours, a bone-melting kiss that renders you soft and pliant in his arms. “I wouldn’t trade you for anything,” he insists with his forehead pressed to yours. “I would only change…that you got hurt.” 

You’ve never really talked about Juan’s demise, and the parts the two of you played in it. You find that your only remorse in that moment…is that you have no remorse. 

You kiss him again, a lingering lock of lips that feels like offering up a piece of your soul to this man. You feel him smiling against your mouth, and for the umpteenth time you think your heart will burst. 

“Will you say it again?” he asks, so shyly with such a sparkle in his dark eyes. He is breathtaking beyond words, and in that moment you don’t know how you haven’t told him, every day and every hour. 

You never told him what you said to Juan to earn the worst part of your thrashing–you never intend to, you know he would just feel guilty, and that is not a weight you intend to lay on his shoulders, when he already carries so much. But you know what you said that night is true. This man owns you–in the way two puzzle pieces meet, or a lock that has finally found its long lost key–and incredibly…you are fine with that now. There is a freedom in this acceptance of the truth that makes you absolutely giddy inside.  

“I love you.” You say it again, and again, between kisses and running your hands over his form you adore so well. He shudders as your nails graze his scalp and your hips press into his, finding him at full attention between you. Suddenly what little clothing you’re wearing is too much between you. Yet he catches your hands when you reach for the buttons of his shorts. 

“Sweetheart…I want to,” he sighs raggedly. “I want you so much, but you’re hurt, and I–” 

You kiss him again, merciless in your sudden need to devour him whole and lick the bones clean. It’s amazing, how desire acts as such an effective painkiller.  “I’ll be fine. I will not be fine, if I can’t have you inside me.” 

He laughs, that beautiful, unassuming sound that fills you with sunlight. “Honey…” 

“Come here.” He lets you–of course he lets you, you could not budge this strapping man without his cooperation–nudge him over until he can lay back on the bed, and you can straddle his hips. As you undo his buttons you can tell Paul is fighting a war with himself, torn between need and worry. Taking off your brassiere helps slightly–you can’t help but grin with a bit of wickedness as a small sound escapes him, looking up at you. 

“Y/n…” 

“I’m alright,” you tell him gently. “Because of you. Let me thank you.” You feel the burn in your back, the sharp ache as you stretch your skin to lean down to press your lips to his scar, but you have no intention of stopping. 

“You don’t need to thank me…” His breath hitches, his fingers tangling in your hair as you brush the velvety tip of his manhood with your chin 

“I want to. I want to be close to you.” 

That much he agrees with, and you watch him nod, eyes half-lidded, before taking him into your mouth. 

Though he clearly loves it, his head thrown back into the bedclothes, he only lets you savor him for a little while before he tugs gently on your hair, urging you up, needing you too, guiding you with those big hands on your hips until you are sinking onto his thick length, and the both of you see stars. 

“Go slow,” he cautions you sheepishly. “Or I’ll lose it.”

You are so pent up with desire and emotion that you know you won’t last long either. You savor the delicious stretch of him inside you, riding him slowly with your breasts in your hands, his thumb on your ripe little clit driving you mad. He brings you like the sun cresting the horizon, a warm and bright pleasure that fills your center and spreads through your bones. You know he holds on by a thread as your greedy cunt milks every last drop of golden ecstasy from him, his strong fingers digging into your hips with a moan. Breathless, you take mercy on him, uncoupling to take him in your mouth once more. The taste of him spilling upon your tongue is divine–his throaty moans the most wonderful sound. 

With a satisfied sigh you curl up beside him, resting your cheek on his ribs, shuddering for his featherlight fingers tracing over your hair, careful of your shoulders. That disbelieving laughter you love so much draws your attention back up to him, finding him looking down at you with so much joy shining in those lovely dark eyes. 

Not for the first time, you think he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

“I love you so much.” 

“I love you too,” you answer with a smile, and in that happy moment you know you are equally blessed and ruined. 

The latter, you are finally ready to accept with an open heart.  

___

epilogue to follow...

[wystericwoes]

“𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖎𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖊𝖝𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖘𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖞𝖔𝖚’𝖑𝖑 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖜𝖓. 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖕𝖆𝖞 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖎𝖙 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖌𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖋, 𝖙𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖘, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖆 𝖕𝖎𝖊𝖈𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖑.”

-𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 𝕩 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕚𝕟 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕤𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒𝕤 𝕣𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕡𝕒𝕤𝕥 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣-

Art is mine!! :)

Chapter warnings: Brief descriptions of violence, sex, (oral) anxiety, curses being curses so therefore gore + fighting and the works. Lore accurate characters, Fuckboy Gojo Satoru. Mentions of toxic dynamics/relationships, cussing

GN reader but some implications to afab anatomy.

Reader has chronic anxiety + paranoia

In his over 1000 years of living,

Nothing had ever brought Sukuna to his knees.

He was undefeated, relentless, and above all else- a monster.

To any person in the jujutsu world, the name Ryomen Sukuna meant something- it struck fear into even the strongest among them, he was a figure from history who was used as a cautionary tale. The cursed man who killed hundreds if not thousands of jujutsu sorcerers.

It was cold. On a certain day hundreds of years ago, the day he truly became The King of Curses.

Sukuna was a human- at least he was at some point. And over time he had lost those shreds of humanity, one by one dropping dead into nothing.

He felt no more remorse, he felt no more sympathy, he felt nothing except the thrill of his increasing strength.

But he was still human after all.

A dying flame from a candle almost entirely burned out, resided deep inside him.

A concubine, an object of simple pleasure somehow warped into something he couldn't have ever imagined. Something he had never known.

Fucking love.

When he found you that night is when he truly became irredeemable.

He was on his knees, dirt staining his robes.

Doctor- is there a doctor around???

No, the whole village was gone. And even if there was they wouldn’t have helped him.

Okay, you’re bleeding. Stop the bleeding

His hand made its way around your throat as he rushed to find anything he had on him that could help.

He tried reversed cursed energy, but you were too far gone and too badly injured. It was a lost cause. But that's just the power you held over him, making him defy logic- be hopeful even.

Hope. what a terrible thing. It makes us think we can be or do anything, it gives the weak the chance to think they can be strong.

Yet here he was, holding onto it.

The moon shone over you, ethereal beams traced over the shape of your body, you were angelic- he didn’t deserve you.

On his hands and knees, gripping his heart.

In his last effort to save you, he had done something to try and bring you back to life

He was desperate.

His hand moved to his chest and down his left arm, then he channeled all the energy from his body for several moments as a spectra of light grew and morphed from his hand, until he was weak, and with his hand was an orb of something convulsing in a hue of whites and blacks.

The orb had formed from his veins, tendrils of energy separating from his body as he attempted to do everything he could to resurrect you. His veins beneath his skin began to glow an ominous purple color, the way one looks when struck by lightning.

With his free hand, he ripped open your shirt- and shoved the ball of concentrated energy into your heart by pressing his hand against your cold clammy skin.

As he did his nose began to bleed, grunting as your body fought the acceptance of the orb- but he persisted. Using the last of his strength to force it in as it slowly sunk into you. His body nearly fell limp, limbs shaking as all the energy and strength was expelled from his body, but he persisted.

His brows furrowed, face sweating, and heart racing.

Wiping away the blood from his nose and lips with his already dirty sleeve with his free hand smearing blood on his face, he coughed up more blood as the last slither of light was absorbed into you.

His breath heaved as he stayed hunched over your lifeless body. The color drained from his face; he looked like he had almost aged several years in the span of seconds.

Deafening silence overcame the ruins of the once lively village. He sat upright on his knees, never wavering his gaze from your unmoving form. Heavy breaths followed the quiet, his body shaking from his futile action.

When he went to see if his efforts had not been in vain, he was met with nothing. No pulse. No beating heart.

He had tried everything. He’s supposed to be the king. The strongest. Hundreds have fallen to his feet dead, and yet right now with your body at his knees he never felt more powerless.

you were gone.

He rested his forehead on yours.

Every part of him hurt. He thought he was the strongest, but this was a cruel reminder. He couldn’t even help you in your final moments. He didn’t deserve to be known as anything; he didn’t deserve to live when you were dead.

His pain was dreadfully quiet. No shouting or cursing at the world for its cruelty. Just grit teeth and heavy breaths.

The sky darkened around the forest clearing that you were in. A storm was on its way, and it would not have mercy.

And that was the day that he had become the monster he had always been.

Any hope for him died with you,

He buried two people that day.

You currently work at your job living a mundane life, you’ve had your hardships, and you’ve had your fair share of conflicts and events. To you, the life you’ve lived up to now was the norm. You didn’t think it could’ve gotten any different than now, eventually you’d grown into a pattern of familiarity and had seen most things the world had to offer.

Until you saw a giant monster eating a woman alive at your local convenience store.

You stood there shell-shocked, frozen for a moment taking in the sight you had just unfortunately stumbled upon, it was grotesque.

An eyeball was popped out of her socket, there was clear signs of struggle along her body with bruises and a dislocated shoulder, that lovely moment was now seeded into your brain as everything happened so fast.

The monster looked over at you, hearing the sounds of your heavy breathing and fast heart. Like a little rabbit who ran straight into the wolf's den.

You were about to book it full speed- when the monster ran away from you. And he looked terrified.

You weren’t one to question a chance out of danger and with that window of opportunity you hauled ass out the door down the street.

You couldn’t scream for help- you would sound absolutely batshit insane.

What we’re you supposed to say? “Garbodor from your worst nightmares just ate a woman alive in front of me and then left” You couldn’t go to the cops.

You let yourself worry about those things later as your feet carried you far away from the scene. Your lungs burned, your nose stung from the dry air and frantic breathing.

You finally got a crowded spot and hit yourself against a wall panting frantically.

What. The. Fuck.

You always knew that you had some crazies in your family but never like this? A hallucination? A nightmare, brain tumors?!

You finally took several deep breaths and let the adrenaline mellow out through your body and shaky hands. You did a double- no, triple take around you to see. Everyone around you was calm, life went on normally, aside from a few concerned passing looks.

Your brain tried to rationalize what you just saw in any way possible. Frantically searching through the database of your brain for anything even remotely close to a logical explanation. You were torn between mental illness and a terrible prank.

Uncertainty was you. In this very moment, the only thing that you could feel or be.

What do you do now?

After the police were notified, Jujutsu tech picked up the case and was assigned to go investigate a very gruesome murder around the area- something simple for them if you can believe it.

When they passed the police tape, there was blood scattered across the inside of the shop. Glass was broken, shelves were downed, bloody handprints and scratches caked the walls.

What hurt was when someone fought in their final moments.. when they almost had a chance. When the death wasn’t quick

This person died in fear.

The curse was no where to be found, it had fled the scene. That’s unusual for curses, seeing as they usually aren’t scared of low level sorcerers or civilians.

“What happened here…?” One woman in a black suit said with slight disgust.

"Grade 3 curse attack, we'll have to start damage control immediately."

“We need to check is there were any witnesses.”

The other mumbled under his breath.

“Do you see any signs of a witness?” She quipped

“Actually..”

The faintest mark of blood the bottom of a shoe at the door.

“We need to figure out what happened. Sooner rather than later."

"We might need to get a professional in here to check for traces of cursed energy. Get a better feel of what played out."

"This seems like a pretty open and-shut case- the civilian will probably just think they hallucinated the whole ordeal."

"Look closer." Pointing at the bloody shoe print, revealing the faintest trail of footprints composed of cursed energy leading down the sidewalk.

They looked at each other, one sighing.

"Alright, let's go."

Sitting in a dark room surrounded by people in dark clothing was not how you thought you’d be spending your Tuesday.

You had just been interrogated about what you saw. And while that affirmed that you weren't crazy, the fact that it was real arose an entirely new set of problems.

Your first impression was that this was some undercover- government CIA men in black scenario and you had seen something you shouldn’t have.

Eventually, you cracked when they kept reassuring you everything was okay, and you weren't developing late-stage schizophrenia.

They started explaining all these terms to you like “sorcerer” and “curses” " but your head was spinning so fast you could barely keep up with any information that they threw.

They were pretty sympathetic towards you, and explained that you weren’t crazy, and that you yourself was one of these sorcerers.

You didn’t like this main-character-chosen-one-secretly has powers thing going on. You were late to work, and although the coffee they gave you was good and your feelings were validated, you just wanted to forget about it.

No one seemed to protest when you decided to get up and leave, that was until you opened the door to meet a 6ft tall supermodel who almost made your jaw slack.

He chuckled as you admired his features. Sharp bones and the most unique hair you’d ever seen. Was that natural? I mean If monsters and warlocks were, this wasn’t the craziest piece of information you had received all day.

What really got your attention was that he was blindfolded.

“I think there’s something they forgot to mention.”

He pointed to his colleagues, one hand in his pocket

“You see, you can’t leave. You’re a jujutsu sorcerer, and that curse you saw isn’t going to be the last.”

Another person in the room turned their head at him.

"Well, it's most likely that they can only see curses and can't actually-"

He cut them off with a pointed finger. Not even entertaining the idea of letting the person finish their sentence.

The other people in the room stood silent not daring to threaten his authority and judgment. Even if it made no logical sense at the moment. Something always universally accepted was that Gojo Satoru knew more than you did about something in any given situation.

“You’re gonna need to learn how to control that energy, and protect yourself.”

Although the answer sounded real, He was lying. A half-truth, the first of many to come. You didn’t know about what or why, but you could sense it. He escorted you out of the dark room which allowed you to get a better look at where you were.

Many old traditional-style buildings secluded in trees followed along in a fashion similar to a school. And although you couldn't explain it, everything felt as if it were shifting around you- like if you averted your gaze then at any second something in your peripheral would suddenly change.

You and Gojo were walking side by side as he began speaking.

"You probably have a lot of questions."

No shit.

"Yeah, understatement of the year."

"I can help. Ask away!"

"Okay, if the floors open I guess I'll start with why I'm here?"

"For your own safety."

Vague and cryptic. But you were too tired to pry in the moment.

"Okay, where are we going?"

"To the dorms"

"Dorms?"

"You see, Dorms are large apartment like buildings which are usually used to house students for certain periods of time.-"

"I didn't mean- I meant why are we going?"

"To let you situate yourself in a safe place."

"Okay... and when can i leave?"

"When you're situated!"

You made a frustrated noise under your breath.

"Okay okay, earlier someone said how did you know to take me in? And how did you find me?"

"You left a residual trail of cursed energy that you produced from the scene, we just followed those. And from measuring the amount of it we found that you're no ordinary person! You're a jujutsu sorcerer."

"A what??"

He promptly sat the both of you down on a nearby bench.

He took in a deep breath like one does before they monologue for a while and explained everything to you. Cursed energy, techniques, the school, sorcerers and its society, curses and their ranks.

Your head was hurting, you placed a hand up to it and leaned in.

When you weren't paying attention during your deep contemplation of this rapidly and increasingly concerning situation- he had changed into sunglasses.

Although you weren’t gonna admit it he was fucking gorgeous.

He looks over at you through his sunglasses slightly crouched to meet your gaze better

“Something on your mind?”

“Yeah- a lot actually! I just got told by a bunch of people that I’m a magician after stumbling upon a murder. And now I have to live with a bunch of high schoolers in some magic temple. for my supposed safety.”

“It’s jujutsu sor-“

“Sorcerers yes I know.”

He quirked a brow and grinned. You were cute.

"I'm glad you listened to my lecture then."

"What other choice do I have?"

You two sat in a moment of silence, allowing you to soak everything in.

You kept noticing him stealing glances at you.

“Can I help you?”

He squinted his eyes at you and lowered his glasses

“Where’d you say you were from again?”

“I don’t see why that’s important.”

“Just a conversation starter! Relax.”

He was lying again.

He stood up, holding out a hand to help you also stand, and you continued your walk to the dorms.

You were so shocked and stressed from all that had happened today, that you didn't even care you missed work, or that this stranger was making you stay here. All you could focus on was the promise of sleep and safety, which you soon let engulf you as you reached your room.

That night was also the night of Megumi's task to retrieve the special grade cursed object.

When Megumi brought Yuuji back to the school, you were sleeping in bed when you heard a commotion below, you nosily and annoyingly looked through the window but couldn't hear much so you quietly opened the window and stuck your head out. (It's not like you had anything better to do.)

you watched as the man from earlier carried an unconscious person over his shoulder and was on the phone in a yelling match with someone being followed by a kid with black hair. other people were also looking around, interested. it felt good to know you weren't the only nosy one.

even with the window open you could only hear every other word.

"Aware-- Understand-- i-- just--- about-- more--- if---not dead."

they turned the corner before you could eavesdrop anymore.

With a defeated sigh, you lay in your twin bed, barely getting any sleep after the events of the day. Everything that had happened still not fully settled in.

When Sukuna was defeated, he had a lot of time alone in his own brain. Well, more like his thoughts. He didn't have a brain anymore

First came arrogance, then denial. How did some sardonic sorcerer no better than the dog shit one accidentally steps upon beat him? better yet seal his soul.

he thinks to himself only had he not done with you what he did. and it wasn't even worth it- you still died.

Even with his natural intelligence and eventful life, memories became blurry to him. At first, it was revenge, escape, and his own fulfillment. The image of his enemies being tortured and murdered kept him grounded from descent into insanity. He would nail them up by their hands onto trees after breaking every bone in their body and just barely keep them on the precipice of life as he murdered their family in front of them, and their friends, and their dog because fuck you.

After his rage, he went to reflection. How'd he gotten beat. His weaknesses, his flaws... His misdirections. Was there a better way it could've gone? Maybe there was a god and he finally received karma... no. He refused to belive that. If there was a god what a sick bastard he must've been to allow sukuna to be born in the first place.

Being born, unwanted, his parents. He hardly remembers now, and it doesn't really matter anyway..

Without the outlet of murder, he was left to think about you. He was his own worst enemy, you held the knife to his throat, and no matter what he would never have moved out of your way.

The one chance he ever had at being a human again had been taken from him. he didn't blame himself; he blamed the world. His dad for impregnating the egg that became him.

He never hated himself- no. But he understood why people hated him. If he were anyone else, he would've developed a strong disdain for himself as well.

The only difference was they couldn't do anything about their hate for him, too weak.

His train of thought kept shifting involuntarily to you. Your stupid habits, the things you considered flaws. The way he could just pick you up like nothing made him feel gratified. He missed that. Doing what he wanted when he was the strongest.

But he figured dwelling on those things wouldn't get him anywhere.

You woke up feeling almost hung over from all the adrenaline high you kept coming down from yesterday.

Things were fully settling in, and the residual shock was residing into confusion and frustration.

what do you do now? where do you go? do you just sit here waiting for someone to tell you what to do? you figured you had at least deserved as much as to go outside. They had a cute garden...

You were abruptly stopped by a white paper bag at your feet with a note.

"Sorry for all the confusing things going on, we can talk later.

-The handsome one :)"

you rolled your eyes at that. although the gesture was appreciated.

Who knew fearing for your life so much would make you build such an appetite.? You ate all of it like you hadn't eaten in weeks, you were feeling a little better until you also realized you didn't shower yesterday, and you suddenly became all too aware of your smell.

What were you supoosed to do? Wait for permission? just roam freely? there weren't any rules or regulation you were told to follow... you didn't know very much but you did know this tiny ass room was suffocating. you decided fuck it and went down the hall.

You searched the old wooden building and saw other rooms, a common area, and finally the showers. They were separated by sex so you had to look around to find the one you could go into. then you realized you had no clothes. Okay well, a clean body and dirty clothes are better than all-around dirtiness. You've definitely settled for worse.

You began the process of running the water, upset at the overall situation.

You realized only when you were half naked that you had no toiletries at all. You audibly groaned out loud. As if you couldn't be more defeated in the state of your life right now, you also couldn't even properly shower.

You wrapped a towel around you and began searching the bathroom. Of course, there was nothing that could help you in here because why would life make anything easy for you? You were essentially alone in this building and couldn't really care anymore. then you made your way down the halls seeing if there was anything that the oh so generous universe would grant you. A brush, floss, a bar of soap, an 8 in one???

Sighing in defeat, you exit your room to hear the sounds of footsteps behind you. You turn around to see slender man, well- actually it’s Gojo Satoru.

“Did you get the food I left?”

“Ohhh you left that”

He dramatically put his hand on his forehead and feigned being hurt.

“I signed it!”

“Not really… open to interpretation.”

Although he was the hottest person you may have ever seen and made tears fall from your legs you were never gonna admit that to him. You could tell he oozed arrogance and was used to getting what he wanted,

He eyed you up and down, and then you remembered you were half naked.

You tightened the grip on your towel.

"Why the hell are you here?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

You stuck a hand out and did an "obviously not/what do you think?" motion.

"We're going out!"

Of course, a man who looked as expensive as him had equally expensive spending habits. He told you to indulge yourself as much as you wanted because "he could handle it."

Although you're pretty sure he was just showing off like a male peacock.

You had never liked white-collar elitist rich boys whose daddy was their lawyer, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't like their money being spent on you.

At first, you felt guilty. When you picked one shirt, he insisted on ten more. You eyed a piece of jewelry too long and the next thing you know a small paper bag slipped into your larger ones.

You had to take a step back and assess why he was doing this. Was he buttering you up? Trying to win you over? Maybe he was actually trying to help you and make you feel better after the shitty day(s) you've had.

You two were settled at a nice restaurant eating lunch when your own anxieties consumed you,

"You're not doing all this so I'll sleep with you right?"

He intermittently choked on his bite of food and had to punch his chest to get it back down the right pipe again. Your bluntness wasn't something that he was used to.

"No, and quite frankly I'm offended.”

He turned his nose up at you dramatically which made you roll your eyes.

"So then why?"

His gaze met yours through his dark glasses, and his face went solemn. Genuine sincerity laced in his words.

"I want you to open up to me, is all."

"Why do you want that?"

"Because you are interesting. You've got this... I guess you could say walls around you I can't seem to get past."

"...So, this is a bribe."

"More of a… friendly suggestion!" he went back to his cheery and smile demeanor.

you sighed. As much as you knew not to give into coercion, you felt a little bad.

"I've always had issues trusting people, even as a kid. I've always had this profound feeling of discomfort when I would begin to open myself up. Like they would take advantage of me."

For the first time all day he actually shut up. He rested a fist under his chin and leaned further into the table.

"What's crazy is that most people never hurt me. I'm fully aware that most people have good intentions... and yet my natural instinct is to run away before they get too close."

He looked at you with an unreadable expression.

"Okay now that this is awkward tell me something about yourself."

"Wellll pfffff... pf. pf. pf... I'm the strongest jujutsu sorcerer."

you quirked a brow. you weren't sure if he was telling the truth or fucking with you.

"I come from a long line of sorcerers, I love sweet food, annndddd I'm very popular."

"And cocky."

"I prefer Confident."

You had a small smile from his radiant energy. He really was nice to be around. And that's not the money talking either (but it does help)

"Okay okay... tell me one thing you think about me, and I’ll confirm or deny it.” he said excitedly.

"Are you just fishing for compliments?"

"Are you saying I deserve compliments?"

You huffed lightly.

"I think you probably sleep around."

He gasped.

"What assumptions! I was hoping for a more 'you have a nice smile' but if you want to play it that way..."

he brought his finger to his chin and tapped it a few times. making a 'hmmmm' sound.

"I bet you don't get around enough."

"I'd rather be a prude than a slut."

this was war.

"Agree to disagree.” He shrugged his shoulders.

"No, disagree to disagree! I bet you mix up the names of all the people you sleep with." You stood your ground, and although you came off as aggressive, you enjoyed this banter.

"I bet you have a shrine of your first boyfriend you ever had and all you did was kiss."

"Man whore!" you furrowed your brows and stood up to look down on him, which quickly backfired when he also stood up, meeting your eyes with his own.

"Virgin!"

"Am not!!"

"I bet you couldn't seduce a guy if you were the last person on earth and he had no other options.”

"I bet you only have sex so you can come and then you leave straight after."

He dramatically gasped

"I'll have you know I am an excellent lover!"

"For thirty seconds maybe."

He moved his face a little closer to yours

"It would be the best thirty seconds of your life."

"Oh yeah? prove it."

when you said that to him you really meant it rhetorically. You didn’t think before you spoke but you’re not exactly complaining- the time in between then and now where you currently have the most beautiful man on earth between your legs was a bit blurry. He slammed some cash on the table, you two scampered away and turned around into the nearest bathroom, and that's where you are now.

You usually tried to maintain an "at least third date" rule for hookups, but the stress of what had just happened in your life had fully settled in, and now you required some much-deserved stress relief. You couldn't deny yourself him when he so graciously offered himself on a polished refined silver platter that you could never afford.

"Tell me what you want, your majesty."

He had a shit eating grin that you wanted to just fuck off his face.

You didn’t know if he was being sweet or sarcastic.

"You're the one who blew your paycheck, you tell me."

"You don't have to pay me back you know?"

“I know that…”

“You’re the one who wanted me to ‘prove it.’”

Your face heated up and you refused to look him in the eyes because you knew he had the upper hand. Even with him waiting for you to tell him what to do. You were so damn horny right now you weren’t in the mood to talk.

“Ugh, I don’t know Gojo- just touch me.”

he graciously manhandled you onto the counter and locked the door behind him, you weren't one for public stuff but something about him made you want to risk it all. He ran his hand up your leg and fidgeted with the buttons.

“Here?”

You nodded.

he pulled down your underwear and bottoms gracefully, taking in every moment that the cool air kissed your suddenly exposed warm skin.

He sank to his knees, hands rubbing circles around your thighs.

He opened your legs to allow his head to fit between them better, his breath fanned over that spot you needed him most right in the center. When you involuntarily arched your back and bucked your hips into him, he moved back and started working his way up with hickeys from your lower to higher thighs.

That unfamiliar sensation of suckling in the sensitive area of your thighs pushed you just a little closer to that brink of insanity.

It stung, but above all else felt so fucking sensitive and made your body flinch when he first made contact.

The higher he went the more sensitive you were, thin skin hardly ever touched by the sun being attacked by a white haired beautiful assailant.

You held back a moan trying to avoid him having the satisfaction.

When he was done working his way up, He looked at his watch and then with sudden motion you had no way of preparing for, one hand was gripped around your hip and another on the fat of your thigh while he latched his mouth onto the most sensitive bundle of nerves that was swollen in need.

“F-fuck...!”

You bit down on your wrist as the sensations overwhelmed you. His mouth was pure magic, of fucking course he just had to be good at everything.

A man on a mission, he gave you no room to prepare. After that previous onslaught of teasing, he went straight to it. You both respected and resented that.

It all happened so quick and overwhelmingly, like he knew your body better than you did. Within moments you felt a coil up in your stomach that had you shocked

You didn’t believe that he had actually managed or push you into the beginning of an orgasm that quick.

You wanted to fight it, but your own body betrayed you.

The muscles in your legs and pelvis clenched and tensed furthering the process as it forced you to chase it faster.

Although the orgasm was so sudden and quick that it wasn’t the most intense you had ever had, it was still an orgasm none the less.

You almost broke skin biting down on your own hand, whimpers still stifled behind it.

Your legs wrapped around his head, squeezing him so hard as if you were scared, he might go.

At the end of it, you were taking shallow and rapid breaths. Trying to get your bearings in what just happened-

“H-how… how did you…”

You said between pants.

He looked down at his watch again and you heard a little click.

He proudly faced the watch to you like a kid who won an award.

28.7 seconds

“Motherfucke-!”

The walk home was quieter.

You two walked along side each other, standing a little closer than before.

Satoru was talking about something about his favorite students. As annoying as it was to listen to him ramble for so long, you thought it was sweet how much he seemed to care about them.

“-you see what makes Megumi really interesting is his tactility and ability to make executive decisions in the last second. You don’t usually see that in someone so young y’know? He’s got great potential…-“

You had been lost in your own train of thought and were hardly paying attention.

You know what he had said but you still felt guilty. He was carrying bags over his shoulder of all the things he had bought for you, you got to finish when he didn’t, and although you didn’t admit it you wanted to do something for him. You were truly grateful, and he had no way of knowing.

You also felt safer with him.

“How are you feeling?”

His sudden direct statement to you got you to snap out of it.

“Oh, I’m fine.” You weren’t necessarily lying. But you wondered why he asked.

“Y’know you’re special.”

He was looking straight ahead, and so we’re you. Barely seeing him in your peripheral vision

“Please. Spare me that”

You thought he was just trying to do the classic move of “I promise you’re different” and he probably did this with everyone.

“I’m being serious.”

When he said that, he sounded like he meant it. There was no undertone of sarcasm, or hint of arrogance. Nothing laced in his words other than sincerity.

“So are you. But you probably already know that.”

He was different in every way possible, looks, flamboyancy, intelligence, as much as you hated to admit it his sex skills-

Ever since he was born, he’s likely been told he was exceptional. And standing next to someone like him it was easy to feel small. To feel just ‘ceptional.

“Do you still feel bad?”

You unintentionally furrowed your brows at that.

He chuckled and bared a satisfied grin.

“You don’t owe me anything.”

Of course, you knew that- you never owe someone something when they give you nice things. But you still felt bad.

“I know, I’m just not used to… that kind of treatment. And now that you’ve done it, I guess I’m scared.”

You were trying to open yourself up, but this part of you was difficult to communicate in words.

He could sense your discomfort.

“Are you sure you’re not just upset that I was right?”

You scoffed at that.

“There wasn’t anything to be right about.”

“You asked me to ‘prove it’ and so I did! Therefore, I win.”

You took a deep exhale and rolled your eyes. As annoying as he was his attempt to lighten the mood worked. A small but appreciated gesture that earned you a light smile.

“I’ve always felt like there’s been something waiting for me.”

He remained quiet to let you talk. Intently listening

“I’ve always had this... anxiety that follows me everywhere. Sometimes in my dreams I see these eyes following me. They’re hidden in plain sight- they know I can see them but they don’t care. They know I can’t do anything about it.”

You took a deep breath in, heart beating slightly faster..

“I’ve always felt like I’m in danger. Like There’s something waiting for me when the smoke clears…”

You formulated your next thought right as it came to you.

“What are common signs of a curse? Now that I know this is something I can see…”

“Hmm… well, a curse is a manifestation of negative energy, so usually people experience things like nightmares, paranoia, stress, and the works.”

You sat in silence for a moment reflecting on the words he just said.

He could feel the tension grow and could tell that what he just told you was beginning to carry a weight down on you.

He held his head high and took a deep breath in, carrying his usual happy and eccentric personality back with him.

“Now Yuuji, just when you think you’ve seen everything- the kid amazes me! And he’s endlessly interesting. He’s also hilarious, in the sense that he always surprises me. He’s filled with so much passion and remains positive even with everything he’s been through- “

His sudden shift in demeanor made you snap out of your daze, and you happily listened to his rambling for the rest of the way back.

When you two finally reached the academy, the sky was painted with hues of vivid colors. The sun had begun to barely set, and that always brings out the best of the sky. White whisps of clouds strung across the stretch above you.

You two walked up into the dorm building, walking into your room, he delicately placed down the bags on the floor alongside the wall.

“Thanks for everything today. And I know what you told me but still.”

He had a small smile on his face.

“You have to let me make it up to you sometime.”

He raised an eyebrow at you.

“I’m afraid there’s nothing I need.”

You were expecting him to make a dirty joke, and with his strangely normal response you felt almost stumped and decided to leave it there.

With the silence, Gojo took it as his cue to leave, and just before he did, you hugged him. Which he embraced.

It was short but sweet. And with the disappearance of his footsteps down the wooden hall, the day had reached its end.

The thing about Sukuna, was that he was past the point of redeemable.

He wasn’t someone who could be cured, there was no chance of a stray ember combusting into a flame.

That’s what made him strong. The ability he had to completely feel no remorse on his mission to power.

Human emotions are what prevent man from reaching their true potential.

So, he got rid of them.

He had carnal pleasures, he had interests- but he never had anything past surface level desire.

When one becomes past the point of no return, what happens when the thing that broke him comes back?

He was in his domain, in that moment unaware of his current hosts surroundings.

Then like a tidal wave he was ripped from shore and into the deep ocean. Involuntarily being magnetized to something outside.

A feeling deep inside him that he couldn’t pinpoint… he tried punching himself in his own gut because what he felt could only be described as butterflies.

Except those butterflies were flying at 100 miles an hour and gnawing at his insides as if they were itching to escape

An extra pair of eyes manifests itself into Yuji's face, he centers his vision trying to find the source of this mysterious and annoying pull.

His pupils dilate upon seeing you. And a feeling that could only be described as true profound fear engulfed him.

This wasn’t the first time he had seen a look alike of you, but this time was different. Your smile, your mannerisms, and even your name.

You weren’t supposed to be alive. You were dead. He had already lost you, grieved you, avenged you, and moved on.

But then there you were, along the side of Gojo fucking Satoru learning how to manifest basic cursed energy.

Sukuna helplessly spectated his own demise as Yuji walked closer to you and Gojo in the training field.

He was in a state of complete and utter shock, he was completely defenseless as he watched you introduce yourself to Yuji.

“Hey Gojo…?”

You asked in a hushed tone.

You tugged on the sleeve of Gojo and whispered into his ear very concerned that what you were seeing was real and indeed not a paranoid illusion.

“Oh, that would be Sukuna.”

Pt.2

[vulpixisananimal]

(. . . You wake up.)

(Where. . . Are you?)

(You feel your own chest rise slowly and fall as you breathe. It hurts. Everything hurts. Yet, when you try and move a finger, you feel nothing at all.)

(Are, are you dead?)

(. . . .)

(You hear someone's voice calling your name.)

(You're so tired. . .)

(You pass out.)

>>>

(You wake up.)

(Where. . . You're alive?)

(You're, you're alive right? Or, or did you die and, a-and. . .)

(Your body aches, stars, it hurts so much. You try opening your eyes, you can't Even do that. You trying making a sound.)

"Siffrin?" (Voice, it was, it was, housemaiden, Mirabelle.)

(You try to talk again. Nothing.)

"Don't, don't strain yourself, I'm here, you're safe, yo. . .re. s. ."

(You pass out.)

>>>

(You wake up.)

(. . . It's pitch black, it's night time.)

(You breathe in, and out. Your head. . . It sang, it sang so, so loud.)

(You're lying in a bed. Your bed. The blankets are heavy, your body is heavy. You keep breathing. This was. . . Your bed, or, was it? You're not just you, right? That's what you had gathered.)

(Who are you?)

(. . . You leave it for now, you close your eyes.)

(You pass out.)

>>>

(YOU'RE DYING.)

(YOU'RE DYING YOU'RE DYING YOU'RE DYING.)

(Your chest, your, your, chest, it, burns, you sputter, you choke, you can feel your hand twitching, body dying, can't, can't feel, think, can't-)

"SIFFRIN!!!"

(Someone's calling your name, someone's yelling! Somoene, someone. You. Knew. You felt a hand on your chest- You felt a hand HAMMERING on your chest! Again. Again. AGAIN. PLEASE. HELP. HELP.)

(Another voice, a third, an argument. It's. it's-)

"What happened?!?"

"I-I don't know!! He started like this just, j-just-"

"Heart attack, don't stop what you're doing!"

(It hurst, it hurts it hurts it hurts so much please. PLEASE. PLEASE STOP. JUST. LET. IT. STOP!!!)

"H-he's, I don't know if, if-"

"Do you smell that?!?"

(Hahahahahahaha this was it this was it this was it this was it You're going to die today. it's finally happened you're going to die. You're going to-)

(You feel a tug on your-)

(-THWNK-)

(You scream.)

"M-M'DAME!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?"

"I-I'll explain, in, a bit! Please!"

"S-siffrin! Siffrin you're ok! We've got you, we're he.... t... n...."

(You can barely hear them now. That rythmic beating on your chest continued. You were loosing energy to scream, to beg, to cry, to, to. . .)

(It all, hurts, so, much. . .)

(You pass out.)

>>>

(You wake up.)

(Everything. . . Everything hurts. . .)

(Someone is talking, talking to you. No, talking at you. Like you're still asleep. They're, they're talking about how you're doing, how everyone's doing, how their day is going. You don't know who's talking to you.)

(You, you're really not dead. . .)

(. . . It's a nice voice.)

(You pass out.)

>>>

(You wake up.)

(. . . You're not dead. A miracle. What did you miss. . . Right.)

(You got hit.)

(The sadness hit you when you were worried about Bonnie. Look at you, getting distracted, and you nearly died, again. Disgusting, you're disgusting. You deserve this.)

(. . . You open your eyes. Everything hurts, everything is blurry. You're in your room. There's, someone accross the way, sitting in a chair. . .)

(Odile. You look at her, it's all you can do, really. You're tired, you're so tired. . .)

(She looks up, and sees you looking at her. She get's up)

"Awake?" (She puts a hand up to your head, you wince, she hesitates.) "I'm. . . Going to check your temperature, ok?"

(Ugh, fine. It's, not like you could say no anyways. She touches your forhead, it feels like spikes, she takes her hand away.) "You still have a fever, can you talk?"

(She's worried about you. You don't reply.)

"R-right. . .." (She stands there for a moment.) "I'm, I have some some medicine if you can dr.. t. ... o"

(You pass out.)

>>>

(. . . Someone was calling your name)

(Your name, your name, your name was. . .)

"-Siffrin?"

(You open your eyes.)

(You blink a few times, your vision was blurry, but, you could never forget that face. Those eyes, that face....)

"Iiiiisaaa. . ." (You say, you're brealy able to smile, but you smile.)

(He smiles back, such a big smile.) "!!! Good morning!!"

"Mmmorning. . ." (You try lifting your head, you see stars-)

"O-oh!! Careful careful!" (Isa leant down and caught your head, his hands.... Soft...) "You stessed yourself, like, a lot, I don't think you should even move."

"Awww...." (You groan as relax back onto the bed.) "Wha, whathappened. . ."

"Uhm," (Isa rubs his neck.) "W-well, I guess what do you remember last?"

(What DID you remember last? It was, it was. . . It was. . . Ramos, Ramos came visiting, you talked, then, blank, blank and blank, then, talking to your family, Isa, Mira, Odile. And then. . .)

"Ra, Ramos visited, and, talked. Then blank. Then. . ."

"Then nothing?"

(You nod.) "Did. . They change, my memory?"

"W-well, you tell me! You're, Siffrin right now, right?"

"Huuuh. . ?"

(He smiles.) "Yeah!! Cause, well, Loop was helping us out a lot with everything, they explained you got effected by it, a-and, oh right."

(Oh, your surprise must have been obvious. Loop? Well, well, you, you knew Loop would probably be the only person who COULD have been around without you. But, they, they were OPEN about it? They TOLD your family about it?)

(You took a second to reply.) ". . . Y-yeah. . D-don't, remember after, after Ramos visited. A few, other, memories jumbled."

"And. . ." (He, looked worried.) "Is, Ramos a friend, or, w-well-"

(You shuddered.) "No, n-no. . . Don't, don't think so."

(His face relaxes, he strokes your head.) "Haha, well, looks like you're good then! I broke Ramos' star emblem and after that a lot of their mind craft dissipated."

(Well, that was good. You were lucky that only you were effected by mind craft, and somehow Loop or Mal weren't. Then again, it persisted through looping, too, so maybe not so lucky.) "Eeeveryone alright?"

(Isa nodded.) "Everyone's a-okay, even Ramos. There's a lot to go over, but you should be resting."

(Even Ramos, huh?)

(You close your eyes.)

>>>

(You hear crying.)

(Someone was crying, there was a weight on your legs, a soft weight. There was a voice, no, two voices. It was, it was. . . Bonnie, Bonnie and Nille. Bonnie was crying?)

(You force your eyes open. Bonnie was sobbing at the foot of your bed. Nille was reasuring them.)

(You talk with some effort.) "Bbbooonbonnnn. . ."

(Bonnie looks up, they looked devistated.) "F-frin!!"

"See? I told you they're a-okay!" (Nille walked up to your bedside table, oh, theres water there.)

"I-I know but!! B-but!!"

"Whahappen. . ." (You blink the blurryness from your eyes.)

"Kiddo had a nightmare." (Nille says, putting a cup of water to your lips, you drink it.)

"IT FELT REALLY REAL!!!" (Bonnie was, gripping your blanket.) "L-like! Like!!"

"Wh'kinda, nightmaare. . ." (You say drearily.)

"B-bad. . ." (They look away.) "R-real bad. Lotta nightmares. Lot about you."

"Whuh?" (About you?)

"T-there was one where, where you were yelling, and it hurt. A-and one where you, you killed someone. And, and one, where, where w-where-" (They're starting to cry again.)

"Boniface. . ." (Nille went back to their little sibling.) "It was all a nightmare, not real, right?"

"T-there was, was a nightmare, you, you, h-hurt yourself, w-with, with your y-your--"

"What'reyou. . ." (You, hurt yourself?) "I'm ffffine, just, tired...."

(Bonnie nods, you're drifting off again, you try waving goodnight but you don't have the energy.)

(You hurt yourself? You yelled at someone? Why so many nightmares, and, and why are they. . . Familliar. . .)

(Oh.)

(You pass out.)

>>>

(You hear people talking.)

(It's, just two people, they're having an, argument? No, not an argument. More like a discussion or, no, reassurance. You decide to listen in.)

"-even awake."

"I know, but, but if they do wake up you should talk to them, right?"

(Isabeau, and, and. . .)

"I dunno, Isa. I-I mean, I did some pretty bad stuff, wouldn't just, going away be better?"

"Rams, what did you promise me again?"

(Oh. Ramos.)

". . R-right, you're right, just, gotta be brave about it."

"See? Here, how 'bout we stick around for a bit to see if they wake up."

(. . .)

(Do we want to talk to Ramos?)

(. . . I do not like them.)

(Yeah, I know. But they made a mistake, right? Shouldn't they get a chance?)

(. . . Fine.)

(You open your eyes.)

(Ramos and Isa are both here, talking. Ramos, they seemed, different? It was hard to describe, it was like they were more, nervous? Less confident? Isa eventually notices you.)

"Oh! Good morning!"

(Ramos turns, catches your eye, then looks away. Isa nudges them in the side, until they say.) "H-hey, glad you're ok."

(Ramos. Ramos. Who you had considered an enemy not long ago. They just stood here, stood in your room, next to your, your someone-who-is-important-to-you. Not like nothing happened though, look at them, they're scared, nervous.)

"You. . ." (What do you even say? After all you went through. Do you threaten them? Say it's ok? Ask if they're ok? What do you do.)

(Whatever is is, it looks like they're expecting the worst. We made mistakes too, after all. Fine.)

"You. . . You're really stupid."

"S-sif!!!"

"N-no, they have a point." (Ramos put up a hand.) "I was being really, really stupid."

"B-but, still!!"

(You laugh, and then cough. Stars, that hurt. Isa rushed to your side, you cut him off before he can ask.) "I'm fine, Isa. Just, just a cough."

"You don't know that!! Change, I just want to make sure you're alright. I've been worried all week about you!!" (You can't stop him, he's getting you water. You accept it, of course.)

". . ." (Ramos walks to the bedside, rubbing their shoulder.) ". . . I-I'm sorry, about, about all that, mind, stuff."

(It was hard to Believe, they where just, apologizing. Just like that. After they hurt you, changed you.)

(But that didn't happen, did it?)

". . . It's, it's Even." (You finally say.)

"H-huh?!?" (They look surprised.)

"Not forgiving you, just, even." (You sigh.)

(Ramos looks at Isabeau, then back to you.) "You make it sound like you owed me."

(. . . Honesty is going to backfire on us one day.) ". . . We, killed you. Once."

"O-oh. . ." (Ramos sinks down a bit.) ". . . T-thanks for, uh, n-not doing that."

(You laugh again, not coughing this time. You and Ramos both knew things wouldn't just, heal up in a second. What they did to you was lost in the loops, just as what you did to them. You were still wary though-)

(Did Isabeau say week?)

"Week?!?" (You say, finally having that sentence register. You try sitting up.) "W-what, what-"

"C-calm down Sif!" (Isa gently puts a hand on your chest to stop you.) "It, W-well, yes, it's, it's been a week, actually just, five days but it's ALMOST been a week."

"Buddy I don't think two days makes much of a difference." (Ramos comments.) "'you're not supposed to craft time' and here's Siffrin telling Change he can do whatever he wants."

(You laugh.) "I met Change once."

"Oh yeah. . ."

"What, like in a dream?"

(You shook your head.) "When we fought the king. They were angry at me for looping."

(Ramos looks at you dumbfounded. You laugh again, and cough.)

"Here, Sif." (Isabeau helps you drink a tonic, it was some mix of ginger and. . . You couldn't place it.) "You should probably rest up now, right?"

"You've got to tell me about your traveling stories. W-when you're better." (Ramos says with a smile. You nod in reply.)

(They really were better, huh. . .)

(You close your eyes.)

[brimbrimbrimbrim]

I wrote a Hellblade 2 fic for Senua/Thórgestr because I have a problem. Rated Explicit (as everything I write) and it’s kinda a love story?

Summary: Thórgestr is brought back to Sjavarrisi to heal from his wounds, while Senua avoids him by the sea. As a storm rolls in, she finds herself alone with him in the longhouse, where she decides that the Northman is everything else but what he once was, and there is room in her to feel love again.

‘He’s coming.’

‘Thórgestr. He shouldn’t be, though. He’s still too weak.’

‘Hurt… dead… almost dead. Should be dead. We saw him.’

From the wooden vardhus overlooking the cliffside seas where Senua sits aloft the briney spray of crashing waves, Thórgestr’s figure approaches. He is a black shift of shade ambling through fog and winter—a Draugr if not for time and the healing touch of the læknir. It had taken many a day and night to drag the dying-dead Northman to Ástríðr’s settlement against the shoreline, where the promise of someone—anyone but the viciously seething healer of the Borgarvirki—could save Thórgestr, for he’d shown Senua the rock beneath the moss… his soul beyond the flesh.

And, it was on those passes of moon and sun during their trek back to the sea cliffs of Sjavarrisi that she spoke to him. Of love—of Dillion—of home, fathers, mothers, and the hidden folk who still talk to her now. It had been easier then, back when he could not speak for the blood in his lungs and the infections that came and went without Thórgestr leaving for Helheim. But even in the nights, when time stretched long between the rattle of his inhale and the wheeze of his exhale, his eyes watched her. Those blue, odd depths, wet and red-rimmed, wait for Senua to speak again.

… and so she did. She spoke on small things, great things, and hidden things until Ástríðr brought them—at last—to her home by the cliffs.

The læknir that Ástríðr promised bore skills to bring back that which was nearing death and, in doing so, shook Senua.

‘Happily so.’

‘The tyrant that nearly pierced his heart. His own father. He, too, deserved to die…’

‘At first. Before. But not any longer.’

Now, the Northman lives, and with his voice returned, Senua speaks less. It is different when the audience of her tales and trials cannot comment in stride. It leaves her guarded now… distrustful, as though his winds will change and Senua will be a madwoman again, not a seer—not special.

She watches him from the lowest platform on the smallest vardhus as Thórgestr draws near, plodding on weakened legs with nothing but determination urging him forward. His ferocity to see her—to seek Senua out in the dark, in the cold—nourishes that distrust his waxing voice began.

Though it is winter, and though sea spray sprinkles from the crush and crash of waves upon the rocks below, Thórgestr appears chin held high, in bandages, leather brók… and little else. The muscles in Senua’s thigh—dangling from the platform overlooking the skerry—tense at the sight of skin and blood-daubed dressings. It is not like it was with Dillion… and yet…

‘He is nothing like her lover. Dead. Gone. Dead Dillion.’

‘No, nothing like him. Isn’t bad. Doesn’t have to be.’

Senua looks at the whole of him, then the pieces: strength beneath skin overgrown by vessels, rivers of moisture that coat curvature with love, a freshly shaven jawline with the raised welt of a shaky hand. She takes in these parts of him, then looks away as Thórgestr’s mouth curves upwards. He knows how her eyes linger in places, or perhaps it is that pleasantries are oddities, things Senua is unfamiliar with. These smiles, words, and looks freely given… as though he feels more for her than Senua does him… yet doesn’t mind—is patient—content to wait.

‘He will wait for her. She knows he is changed. She has changed him.’

‘And he likes to wait… they all do.’

‘You’re just a prize to be won now. A souvenir, like the Goði said.’

‘No. Senua is special…’

“It is cold,” Thórgestr says, a brisk tremor that is hot where the world is cold. He leans against the vardhus’ wooden post, unashamed—it would appear at first glance—of the weakness his wound lays over his shoulders, “Only getting colder.”

‘He doesn’t want you to freeze out here, Senua.’

And then, when Senua refuses to look at him, Thórgestr continues, “You know, as a boy, I would find the highest rock and sit, contemplating my purpose. Even then, my father found love in power. Control. I would do anything to be away from him then…”

‘He’s trying to reach out. Shared experiences… camaraderie… why does she push him away?!’

‘It’s no use. She doesn’t like him. Hates him!’

“I do not mind the cold,” Senua tells him, harsh and finite.

‘Tell him to go away. You don’t need him, Senua.’

She looks to the sea where the remnants of the giant’s fall have left the sea brackish and tumultuous with new disruptions that send foamy droplets up the landslip, wetting the cliff’s edge. Jagged, hunched rocks split waves like the onslaught of a raid, filling the coast with Aegir’s horrible lullabies. Only after a disagreement begins on the horizon between sea and sky does she look back to Thórgestr, whose gaze has not left Senua, though his eyes shift to meet hers.

‘Where was he looking?’

“It is you who should worry,” she scolds, “Unless you prefer to freeze. Bound to your sick bed.”

‘Look. He is warm, though. Not cold.’

‘Let him warm you, Senua.’

I’ve got the rest on AO3 cause it’s like almost 10k. Feel free to check it out HERE.

[ourflagmeansgayrights]

ok so like objectively yes ed did things wrong but not only do i personally feel no negative emotions about any of that, i swear it would make more sense tonally with the rest of the show to NOT make a huge chunk of s2 be about ed facing the consequences for and redeeming himself from the marooning/pushing lucius overboard/izzy toe thing. like if im wrong i’m wrong and it’s whatever but i really really think the focus will be more on ed’s internal emotional state and how his choices were informed by trauma and how he’s going to learn to heal more than it’s gonna be like, Ed Learns It’s Wrong To Maroon People And Force Feed People Their Own Toes. like if anything i think it’ll be Ed Learns That He Deserves To Be Happy And He Also Realizes That Marooning People And Force Feeding People Their Own Toes Is An Unhealthy Coping Skill That Negatively Affects His Mental Health And He Learns New, Healthier Coping Strategies. like i think the focus of coming out of the kraken era is going to be almost entirely on ed’s feelings, and any mention of how his actions harmed the rest of the cast will be brief and/or it’ll primarily be played for comedy

which yes irl this would kinda suck to have some guy respond to getting his heart broken (and other stuff) by killing and maiming people and then have his whole journey of self-discovery be solely abt him and not any of the people he’s hurt. HOWEVER a biiiiiig part of the humor of the show is that the characters are experiencing some very real and very relatable self-esteem issues and insecurities and vulnerabilities, and all of that is placed on a backdrop of comedically gratuitous pirate violence. like this is a romcom and ed is basically going through the classic emotional beats of the romcom heroine getting her heart broken and eating a whole tub of ice cream and crying in her room for days before becoming cold and distant and “love is dead” edgy, only the joke is that bc he’s a pirate his “love is dead” romcom era includes some people actually literally dying. izzy and the crew all just happen to be in the blast radius for this joke, and while we as fans might love and care abt those characters too, the plain fact is that ed and stede are the main characters and the other characters’s feelings or storylines or internal motivations simply do not matter nearly as much to the show as theirs (with the exception of maybe jim, and also maybe olu depending on how s2 goes). and that’s literally just how romcoms work. this sort of “protagonist bias” is like, a core part of this kind of story.

and there’s nothing wrong with not vibing with the story because of that. if season two comes and goes and you aren’t happy with how the show handled the consequences of ed’s actions in e10 that’s fine, nobody has to feel any specific way about this show. but if i’m right and this is how s2 plays out and some of y’all don’t like this, the problem is not that ofmd is bad. the problem is just that this is not the story you wanted or expected to be told.

i DO think, tho, that there’s something very powerful abt a character like this being a queer indigenous man. he’s a gay romcom protagonist and narratively speaking his feelings trump all. this is a queer romcom that uses gratuitous slapstick violence as a punchline and where the queer main characters are allowed to get violent and unhinged about their feelings, and at the end of the day they ultimately get a pass bc it’s a gay romcom and the show is about them. like literally that description itself is more than i could’ve ever dreamed of from any tv show ever, and THEN you’re telling me that one of the main characters is indigenous???? it’s been a year and a half and s2 is right around the corner and i swear to god i still can’t believe this show actually exists. we don’t GET shows like this, we don’t GET characters like this. ed teach is such a fucking blessing of a character and i love him with all my heart.

[slasherstories123]

I've had this idea for a while but I can't write for shit😭 could you do RZ Michael Myers and Jason Voorhees with a s/o who's been with them for a while and just absolutely have their hearts and the slashers find the horrific sight of their s/o on the brink of death. The cause can be anything and Please have the s/o live I'm a sucker for happy endings❤️

Rz! Michael and Jason’s reaction to their s/o on the brink of death

Tagslist: @dootys @callmemeelah @mehidktbh @slash3rl0v3r @the-anxious-youth @beanbagbitch @mrs-heelshire @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @oneofvincentscandles @sleepypersonblog @alexxavicry @vexeliers-breakroom @l0sercat @naxxsstuff @beel-mcburger @charliedawn @emychan @bunnysenpai31 @slasherscrybaby @turdmongler @kawaistrawberry21

Rz! Michael Myers

Michaels cold manner came ever since he was in that sanitarium.

In this case, when he sees you nearly dying, he did things you’ve never seen him do.

You were sick. Very sick, and if you didn’t get medical help soon you’d die. When he came back he saw you on the floor.

The silent man stared at you for a few seconds before falling to his knees. Dropping the knife as he squeezed you for dear life. Michael didn’t know what to do, he can’t let you die. It won’t sit right with him, sure he kills lots of people but it doesn’t feel right to know that you’re dead. You’re kind to him, and cared for him like his mother did. He didn’t kill you and you accepted him. You looked up at him while letting out a bad cough. “Mike… when did you get here?” He didn’t move not let out any grunts in response. Grabbing on your shoulder when you tried to get up.

“I’m so sorry Michael… I didn’t want you to see me like this..” Thoughts raced through his head, he can’t go out like this, they’ll take him down and will think that he killed you. There’s only one option left…. He snatched his mask off, his dirty blond hair covered his face. You were taken back by the sudden movement but was too weak to do anything. He picked you up and walked out. He can’t drive, he doesn’t know how to. Michael’s used to walking, if he can walk all the way back to haddionfield, then he can surely walk you to the hospital.

Once you were taken into proper care, he left you there to heal, but would watch you from afar until you were free. He stayed by your side more after that happened. You didn’t mind, you couldn’t blame him either, for the first time in his life he was scared, scared of loosing you.

Jason Voorhees

One of his victims found out that you were on Jason’s side and got angry, stabbing you in the stomach before running off.

Once Jason saw it he was livid with anger, how dare they do that to you?! He didn’t stop until the guy was dead.

Once he did, he rushed back over to you, seeing that you took the knife out of your stomach, which in your case was a stupid move to do.

Jason freaked out as he looked around for something to stop the bleeding, he took his brown jacket off and put pressure on the wound. He was freaking out on the inside, trying to listen to what his mother was trying to tell him to do.

He tried his best to listen while making sure you were still awake, you didn’t dare open your eyes, but you did it for him, your eyes burned with tears. He felt bad. Luckily the stab wound wasn’t terrible, you just couldn’t move until the healing process was complete. You kept zoning out from time to time which made him tap your arm, begging you to stay awake for just a little while longer . He gently picked you up and took you back to the cabin you shared, now dealing with the wound with actual medical supplies. Then placing you on the bed.

Jason cared for your every need, and when there was nothing else left don’t him to do, he’d rest the side of his head on your stomach as his way of apologizing for letting it happen.

[bicheetopuff]

Hi...if you don't mind, can I ask something from BNHA? What do you think are Midoriya and Bakugou’s greatest personality strengths and weaknesses? Why? What do you love about their dynamic? Since what moment that you start shipping them? What are your fav (canon) BKDK moments? Sorry if you've answered these questions before.....

I have waited two and a half years for someone to ask me this question. I’ll just go in order:

What do you think are Midoriya and Bakugou’s greatest personality strengths and weaknesses? Why?

I’ll start with their strengths.

I think Izuku’s greatest strength is his tenacity. He tried his hardest to achieve his dream despite everyone telling him he couldn’t and he never gave up. That seems like a childish thing to admire, but I feel like reading him doing everything with everything he has, mad me a more determined person.

His other strength that I admire a lot, is his ability to forgive so easily. He tries to see the good in everyone no matter what they’ve done and I think that’s a really admiral trait to have. Being forgiving is good for the soul, and it’s definitely a trait I do not possess.

As far as Katsuki’s strengths go, I think he’s just as tenacious as Izuku. He’s determined to be the undisputed victor in everything he does and he succeeds nearly every time. He fights really hard a for what he wants like he needs it to survive.

Also, he was able to hold himself accountable for the way he treated Izuku. It’s really hard for most adults to admit when they’re wrong and apologize sincerely for it without somehow shifting blame somewhere, and this prideful teenage boy was able to full admit that he was wrong and begin to openly do right by the guy he wronged in front of his entire class. Not only did he apologize, he went beyond what would normally be expected and legitimately wanted to lift Izuku up and push him to be a better hero. He didn’t just do it cuz he felt bad, he did it cuz he sincerely wanted the best for him.

Now, their weaknesses to me, parallel with their greatest strengths, so they can’t really exist without the other.

Izuku’s kindness paired with his unwavering determination causes him to do whatever it takes to help someone. Even if it means nearly killing himself. A kid could drop their ball in the street, and he’d throw himself in front a truck in order to get the ball back. I think his greatest weakness is how little self worth he has. He already doesn’t feel very deserving of what he has, considering it all a blessing instead of him working his ass off for it all. He feels like his life is less valuable than others, only seeing himself as nothing but a vessel for One for All instead of One for All choosing him because of the hero that he already was.

And then Katsuki’s biggest weakness is obviously his pride but also, I think it’s also Izuku… I’m not just saying this cuz I ship them though, I feel like he’s legitimately stunted when Izuku’s not around. Like Izuku is willing to do anything for other people, even if it means dying, Katsuki is the same way, but for Izuku. He literally described Izuku almost being stabbed as being “on the brink of death.” And then he started crying like his whole world was falling apart when he found out Izuku was quirkless again. Just like Izuku needed to learn to win with a smile, Katsuki needed to learn to save with a smile, and he’s not able to do that without Izuku there, which i believe is why he wasn’t doing good in the hero ranks. He can do a good job, but public opinion is still important and if he has a bad attitude cuz he’s cranky without Izuku competing with him, then it’s obvious why he wouldn’t do too well.

Katsuki is also a major weakness for Izuku, being the reason AFO targeted him in the first place. Izuku loses all reasoning when something happens to Katsuki or if he’s in danger, and his self preservation goes from none to negative, the only reason he’s being somewhat careful is to make sure Katsuki turns out okay. But then when Katsuki was revived, Izuku’s self preservation went out the window oddly enough, but I think it’s mainly because his focus went back to Shigaraki, and like I said before, he’d do anything to help somebody, not caring what happens to himself.

Anyways…

What do you love about their dynamic?

Idk why but this feels like such a loaded question…

Their dynamic is like ten tropes rolled into one so it’s hard to pinpoint what my favorite part about their dynamic is, but if I had to choose, I would say it’s the way they always put each other first even when their relationship was bad.

They could literally not talk to each other or acknowledge each other for days at a time, and they’d still be the first person on their minds. They just live in each others brains rent free and they always had each others backs when it counted. Like, Katsuki rescued Deku as early as the USJ arc, at a time he arguably felt the worst about him. Yet, he still helped him.

Or after he was kidnapped and he started to suspect Izuku and All Mights secret, he was angry and jealous and blaming himself for everything that happened to All Might, yet he still chose to confide in Izuku. Despite being pissed at him and actively fighting him.

And on the opposite end, Deku would be there for Katsuki despite the way he treated him. He literally told him to kill himself in chapter one, and Deku ended up saving his life just a few hours later. He’d continuously call him amazing even when other people pointed out his angry behavior.

The way they treated each other in moments of crisis and the way they would talk about each other just never matched up. Katsuki could talk as much shit as he wanted, but that didn’t change the fact that he never truly underestimated Izuku and that he’s always been the guy to step in when Izuku couldn’t handle something on his own. And Izuku can praise him all he wanted and be as nonchalant as possible, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’d avoid over stepping with Katsuki but he’d act like the world was ending when Katsuki would be wronged in some way. They’re weird about each other in words but then so obsessively loyal to each other in actions. I have no clue if I’m making sense, it’s hard to put into coherent words.

Since what moment did you start shipping them?

I picked up the manga basically right after season 5 finished airing cuz I had just binge watched the whole thing and something just didn’t feel right? It was the first time I was actually interested in what was going to happen next in a show, that I decided to look up the source material.

I started on chapter 257 and I had to just pause once I hit 285. Because I’ll admit, I was a hater. I was a hater who genuinely didn’t understand why Katsuki would suddenly just put himself in harms way to save Deku like that. So I stopped reading and decided to start from chapter 1 and it all just started to click in my brain. If they were in the same situation in middle school where Deku was about to potentially get a lethal injury, Katsuki would’ve done the same thing. He’s never not valued Deku as a person, he just hated that Deku was better than him at something so important to his dream.

So I guess you could say it was Katsuki’s sacrifice that made me begin to ship them, but I think it was really just a pipeline to me re reading everything and slowly starting to realize how genuinely weird they were about each other from the start. Oh and when I got back to where I stopped and then read up to Katsuki’s apology, that really solidified it for me. I was hooked and I think the fbi agent in my phone saw me crying about it, because the next day my tiktok was flooded with bkdk fanart which just hooked me even more and lead me to tumblr.

Basically, me wanting to understand why Katsuki did what he did when the whole internet was telling me to hate him and his ship with Deku, unironically improved my reading/media comprehension. They made me start reading more and start paying attention to what I was actually consuming. I haven’t just blindly watched anything since then, and now I’m an annoying, opinionated bitch when it comes to most media.

Also, to put this more into perspective, I have really bad ADHD (and probably asd tbh, it runs in my family) and I hated to read as a teenager. I physically could not force myself to read something to the end, and it would actually give me headaches when I would try to read for more than like ten minutes at a time. But mha and my curiosity about Katsuki Bakugou specifically, interested me enough to binge read 350+ chapters (at the time I started) worth of manga as well as 6 light novels. And after that, I literally couldn’t stop reading. Ew I think I just realized that bkdk lowkey changed my life ajdbdjdj that’s embarrassing… moving on…

What are your favorite BKDK moments?

Idk why but I think about that one scene from class a vs class b at least once a week. And no, not the one where BlackWhip manifested.

It’s a manga only-ish scene after Monoma was like “what? You’re gonna tell me Bakugou got character development?” And Kirishima says “yeah blah blah blah… it’s the first time we’ve seen him put it all on the line for someone else…” and the camera pans to Izuku. In the anime, that pan got cut out for whatever reason, but it just plagues my mind because that quote can mean so many things, and the fact that the focus was switched to Deku from someone else’s perspective, just puts so many thoughts in my brain.

Other than that, I think the scene after the war where Katsuki tries to find Deku in the hospital but gets stopped, is my second favorite. It’s the first time we see him shamelessly worry about him. And then, this is weird, but the panels before his sacrifice where he’s just panicking for like two straight chapters and then has a flashback where he explains how he actually feels to All Might.

Katsuki’s death lies in fourth place, while I think the scene is beautiful, it happened on my birthday and literally ruined my weekend so I will forever be salty about that. And then I think DvK 1 and 2 are tied, I love just going back to read them to see what I missed.

Oh and of course, “for the rest of our lives” altered my brain chemistry.

There’s some light novel and TUM moments too, but I know their canonicity is questionable so I won’t go into that, especially since a lot of the new people in the fandom haven’t really read those and I don’t wanna spoil anything. All I can do is recommend them :)

You don’t have to apologize for anything dnana! I love talking about them! If anyone should apologize, it should be me for this post being so long lmao