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thecheshireprincess · 3 months ago

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The Game Itself

Chapter VII: Hell in a Hand Basket

A Chishiya x childhood best friend reader (Niragi's sister!) AU Series

Content Warning: Reader had an abusive childhood and is traumatized by it, said abusive father is HERE and is a motherfucker (dead dove, do not eat), dark themes, canon-typical violence, Reader shoots her pistol, an animal is killed, mentions of death and murder

A/N: I'm very serious that some parts of this chapter could be triggering for people that have a similar background as me, please interact responsibly and scroll away if you feel uncomfortable. There is a reason it took so long to get this chapter out. It's very dark.

Also important to re-emphasize that this story is AU; my characters are not intended to act as they do in canon. They are supposed to act differently because they grew up having YOU in their lives.

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Your father. Your abuser. The person who had single-handedly planted this darkness inside of you and Niragi, who had cultivated it over years to bloom and flourish. At the end of the day, no matter what Niragi had done to you last night, it was all this man's fault. This is absolutely unbelievable.

You see the confusion morph to terror all over Kuina and Usagi's faces, but make no effort to turn around and look at the man behind you. Maybe if you pretend he isn't there, he'll disappear just as soon as he had shown up. Maybe this is even just another bad dream haunting you, and you'll wake up soon still cocooned in bed. That must be it, a nightmare.

But then why could you feel the sharp prickle of the glass shattered at your feet, pressing tiny cuts into the delicate skin? The warm stickiness of your blood spills out onto the sun heated concrete, contrasting starkly with the cool metal of a gun's muzzle pressing suddenly and firmly into the nape of your neck; letting you know that this is absolutely not just a dream. The terrifying implication of this sensation has your head swimming.

Your father is at The Beach and he is armed.

Just as you begin to wish you hadn't come to the pool for a girls' day at all and had stayed with Chishiya in the room instead, you hear the loud crash of the heavy patio doors slamming open. The party that had previously been raging wildly behind you goes deathly silent and the music is cut off; a hushed tension falling over the pool party like a wet blanket. The strained environment, broken up only by brief unintelligible murmurs of the party goers, was recognizable as one of fear. There's only one person with the ability to create this kind of atmosphere just with their existence, and you're suddenly thankful he's here. You exhale a brief breath of relief, Niragi.

Your father doesn't seem to notice the change in ambience, or at the very least he doesn't care, because he doesn't move his attention or weapon from you. "Didn't you hear me, you little brat?" the gruff voice spits; rough, cracked lips pressed disgustingly right against your ear, "Is this really how you greet your Dad after so many years apart?" Your entire body wants to shiver, to react viscerally to having this man's hands on you again, to throw up what little you have in your stomach. But no, you know this game, it was the first one you'd ever learned to play. Don't react. Don't cry. Don't try to escape.

It would only make things worse for you in the long run if you did.

Your two friends are stuck staring up at you from their places perched on their lounge chairs, fruity pink martinis still clutched but long forgotten in their fingers. They are very obviously confused and conflicted, jaws clenched and eyebrows furrowed in horror. Should they interfere? Would it make things better if they could provide a distraction? Would it make them worse? Your teeth clench involuntarily, an attempt to get a handle on the body that is rapidly threatening to betray you, and shoot them a look as if to tell them to stay as far out of it as possible.

Sudden pain rips through your jaw and neck as your father's calloused fingers dig deeply into your jaw, attempting to twist your neck to look at him. You would let him snap your neck before meeting his gaze directly. "Not going to answer me, huh? So this is the kind of disrespectful bitch your brother raised then," the man snarls cruelly. That particular sentence might as well have been a shot to the heart, because you knew that Niragi had done everything, given everything for you to grow up as normally as possible. That against all odds, the two of you had turned out relatively well-adapted; at least prior to coming to Borderland, a place where your imperfections were highlighted at twenty fold. Were you a disappointment to your brother? Your eyes begin to burn and water from the intensity of your father's grasp as you wait agitatedly for Niragi to make his move - what is taking him so long to get to you?

A flash of blonde glints in the sun in your periphery, Chishiya. Relief floods each of your senses at the mere glimpse of him, a sob very nearly escaping your tightly clenched jaw. Chishiya wouldn't have hesitated for even a second to come straight to you if Niragi wasn't here to handle it, so you know the time has arrived. Your father tenses slightly behind you, but doesn't release his grip on your jaw - his fingerprints would remain tattooed on your face for a long time - nor does he lower his weapon. At long last, your brother snarls, "Get the fuck away from her. Now." Even in Borderland, you'd never heard Niragi speak in such a deep timber, voice dripping with enough venom to take down the entire Beach. Chills.

Your father only laughs, still not removing his hand from your face, no. Not lowering his weapon from the base of your skull. You don't move either, still standing and staring straight forward. Waiting - for help? Death? You don't know right now. "Niragi! If this isn't just one big, wonderful family reunion!" Ah, the fake boisterous voice. The one that he only uses when he knows he has an audience. And boy, does he ever - a primetime slot at The Beach's afternoon pool party.

Family reunion, indeed. One you'd hoped neither of you would ever be subjected to. "Get your fucking gun away from my sister's head," Niragi spits, but you can hear the slight strain in his tone. Your brother is stressed the fuck out. Terrified. You let out a shaky breath, trying not make any sudden movements. Your entire body yearns to wriggle free from his slimy grasp on you.

"You wouldn't shoot your father," the man behind you mocks your brother. Don't be so sure. Realization hits you that Niragi is likely standing behind your father much in the same way as your father is standing behind you - muzzle of his beloved rifle pressed up tight against his neck. The only thing preventing him from pulling the trigger? You standing in his line of fire.

You hear Niragi click his tongue in annoyance, "You don't fucking know me anymore, or what I'm capable of. And you aren't my father. You certainly aren't hers." You grit your teeth again, knowing Niragi is getting pissed. Your father was easily getting under his skin, and you were afraid of what he'd be able to do if that happened.

Your brother is right. The man standing behind you wasn't your father, had done nothing for you but cause pain and suffering. But Niragi going there would only open himself up as an easy target for your father to further manipulate him and his emotions. You've seen this exact scene unfold in front of you more times than you care to count, but this time there are firearms involved and a world with no laws or norms to conform to. It would all come to a head here.

Your father cackles at this, finally releasing his hold on your jaw and turning dangerously around to meet your brother's gaze. Though you desperately want to cling to Niragi like you'd done so many times previously, you bolt to the side to Chishiya instead, the broken glass from your spilled martini slicing your feet further. You don't care, can't care. The blonde grasps gently onto your upper arm, pulling you tight against his side as his eyes roam frantically over your shaking form. He lets go briefly to remove his white jacket, wrapping it cozily around you before pulling you tightly to him once more and interlacing your trembling fingers with his.

Now is a good opportunity to study your father, really seeing him for the first time in eight years. He looks old, angry lines etched permanently into his features. Noticeably, your brother now has several inches of height on him, the younger man sneering down at him as he aims his rifle steadily between the older man's twinkling eyes. "Oh, so let me get this straight. You think you're her father now, right?" You'd known that was coming, just like you knew it would stoke the fire of rage in your brother and you willed him to please, for fuck's sake, stay calm.

Because of course, Niragi was more your father than your actual father was. All four of you standing here knew that to be true, but this Niragi - his temper was too short. He couldn't handle being mocked like this without snapping.

Niragi's eyes flick briefly to take in your appearance as you stand shivering against your best friend, you can tell he's trying to assess the damage you took. You can see the wild, fearful look in his eyes, you recognize it. So many years of withstanding these moments together - how could this be happening again? You want to run to your brother in this moment, his eyes telling you that he wants that too. Instead, he looks back to your father as the older man speaks again, narrowed eyes locked in on the blonde beside you. You can almost predict exactly what's about to be said even now.

"How sweet! Chishiya, it's good to see you here too! Tell me, son of mine, if you've done such a good job as a father figure, why did she run to Chishiya and not you, hm?" You tense as your father mentions your friend, gripping more tightly to the hand that's holding yours, the man rubbing your knuckles gently with his thumb. Chishiya, stoic as ever, simply blinks at your father, giving off an air of boredom with his presence. He had never been afraid of your father, knowing that the man was just another coward underneath, just like his own father. It seemed justified that they were best friends.

Even after eight years, your father knew what he was doing - that that comment would cut Niragi like a dagger. He's breaking him down again, manipulating him just like when he was a teenager. Just like all the times before, shredding his way through layer upon layer of protective walls built up over time in just seconds. The aforementioned man doesn't take his dark gaze off your father, he doesn't falter for a second. And so, without taking his eyes off your father's cold glare, twin sets of blackened eyes staring like mirrors at one another, Niragi speaks to you, "Sweetheart, go inside."

You hear those words and feel your pulse throb sickeningly in your ears. No, no, no. Though your brother is locked in on his target, you shake your head rapidly, pleading. "No," you mumble, trying everything to not cry like a baby. You don't want to go inside. Because you know that even this NIragi wouldn't kill your father in front of you, not with you standing just two feet away.

And you can't let Niragi do this. It will be his final plunge into the abyss if he does.

"Chishiya," the man warns in an authoritative voice, eyes still frozen in a standoff against your father. You try in vain to yank yourself away from Chishiya, knowing he is about to heed your brother's silent request. Get her out of here. By force if you have to.

"I'm sorry, baby," Chishiya whispers to you, warm hands gripping forcefully onto your wrists. You try urgently to shake him off of you, for once in your life wishing to evade his touch. The man barely reacts, pulling you with him inside as you try to squirm and kick away from him.

"Niragi! Don't. Please don't do it, it will ruin you! He's not worth it!" You shriek at the top of your lungs, now almost across the pool deck as your entourage follows you and Chishiya back into the hotel. "You're still a good person, Niragi. Don't let him take that from you, please!" you sobbed, pleading with your brother. If the citizens of The Beach hadn't been looking, they definitely were now. It doesn't get much more entertaining than this in Borderland.

Entering again through the double doors, you begin clawing frantically at the metal doorframe, trying to gain purchase to pull yourself away from your friend and back to the pool deck before something stupid can happen. From behind you, Kuina grabs at your hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze in a feeble attempt to appease you. It doesn't escape your notice that she is helping Chishiya wrangle you, and you only get more aggravated at the people around you. Why is everyone against you?

If they're going to fight you, then you're going to give them a run for their money. You halt forward movement, dropping your body to the floor at Chishiya's feet. Your form crumples down and you forcefully yank your arms from the two that had a hold on you, acting much like a petulant child that didn't want to go take a nap. You don't care, these people are pissing you off.

"Really, Koko? You think I'm not just going to pick you up?" the blonde asks in slightly frustrated disbelief. "Of course you will, but I don't have to make it easy for you," you spit back, starting to tire of Chishiya's blind loyalty to your brother. He is supposed to be your best friend, not Niragi's; it isn't fair that he's constantly working against you.

This is the second time in as many days that you've been dragged by your best friend through these exact doors in tears. This realization strikes a chord of vexation in you - you are tired of being told what to do. Tired of Chishiya enforcing what you're being told to do. Tired of crying. Tired of feeling and looking weak. When was enough going to be enough?

Chishiya huffs a short breath out through his nose, scooping you up into his arms as though you weighed nothing and sending a pointed look as if to say "barely an inconvenience". You roll your eyes, arms crossed over your body as your friend carries you to the elevator.

"You're getting blood everywhere anyway, hopefully you won't need stitches in your feet," the blonde points out, reminding you that you had been injured at the pool. A simple hum is the only response you deem necessary at this point, the elevator dinging cheerfully to let you know you'd arrived at your floor.

Arisu catches up with your group as you walk the hallway to your shared room with Chishiya. "Hey! What's going on?" he asks, eyes as wide as saucers as he takes in the scene around your flustered group. Usagi pulls him aside, the couple falling back behind the rest of you as you enter through your designated door.

"Kuina, get me the first aid kit from the bathroom," Chishiya demands roughly, setting you down on the edge of your bed and kneeling to inspect your glass cut feet. You'd barely registered the pain up until now, but the sharp sting was becoming more apparent as your adrenaline wore off. Your friend clicks his tongue as he studies the damage, taking the first aid kit from Kuina when she returns.

"I have to remove the splinters of glass, it might hurt a little bit, okay?" your friend asks you, ever the forthright caregiver. He will be a great pediatric surgeon one day. Kuina sits down on the bed next to you and takes your hand in hers carefully. You nod in understanding, gratefully accepting Kuina's warm and comforting touch. Your eyes fill with tears as Chishiya plucks tiny slivers of glass from your skin, a couple of the deeper ones making you jolt in discomfort.

Chishiya rubs your calf gently, soothingly, "I know, almost done." His eyes narrow as he pulls a few more small splinters from each foot before placing the metal tweezers down and looking up to check on you. Your sorrowful eyes meet his from behind wettened eyelashes, the devastated look on your face causing his stomach to sink. This was turning out to be yet another completely impossible day.

"This will be the worst part, angel," he whispers remorsefully, holding up the blue bottle of antiseptic. Exhaling a shaky breath to settle your overactive nerves, you nod once as confirmation to your friend to get it over with before laying your head on Kuina's shoulder for support. The initial throb of the antiseptic doing its job tears through your senses, causing you to sharply suck air in through your teeth in response. As Chishiya gently works the gauze over your cuts, the pain gives way to more of a dull, manageable ache. Before you know it, your feet are wrapped up and you're like brand new again. Just as you'd said, he'd be amazing at his job one day.

Arisu and Usagi hesitantly enter the room then, carting along a plethora of snacks and drinks. You smile an encouraging smile at them, grateful for the distraction and the treats. Everyone settles in around the room, Arisu and Usagi perched nervously on the couch, Kuina lounging happily on your bed beside you, and Chishiya still on the floor at your feet with an indescernible look plastered on his face.

Your friends quietly munch on their chosen snacks, no one discussing the tangible tension that hung thickly in the air as you expertly avoided the elephant in the room. Time ticked by slowly, as if you were all trapped in quick sand, attempting to move forward but ultimately being forced backwards over and over again. That is, until Kuina had enough. The woman sits up to look at you now, eyes filled with concern and a slight curiosity. "What happened out there?" she asks quietly. Eyes dropping to the chips you held in your lap, your fingers crinkle the material as you chew on your lip trying to decide what to say.

Chishiya studies your reaction for a brief moment before abruptly standing up, untouched biscuits falling to the floor. The man deadpans with arms crossed over his chest, "Okay, get out." All four of you look up at him in surprise, eyes widened and confused. Your eyes narrow as you realize your friend is trying to protect you, but you're getting tired of being protected without having asked for it in the first place. You jump to your bandaged feet now too, meeting Chishiya's gaze with intensity.

"No, Chishiya. They're my friends and I want them to stay," you demand, voice suddenly authoritative and measured. Something is shifting within you; no longer trying to be quietly subservient to everything being thrown at you. The man's eyebrows knit together in surprise, but he backs down and goes to sit in the plush armchair in the corner of the room; likely deeming this an unnecessary argument.

You turn to look at Kuina, prepared now to give her at least something, "That was Niragi and I's father, if you can even call him that. He's wanted to kill me my entire life, and I guess it will be possible for him now, here." You pause for a brief moment, considering the circumstances. "That is, unless Niragi has already killed him. And then we have an entirely different problem on our hands. Either way, the outcome is not good," you elaborate, head swimming with the possibilities. You despise this feeling, as though the four people in the room were staring at you in sympathy. It made your skin crawl with rage.

Sucking in a ragged breath, you storm toward the bathroom to study your appearance in the mirror. Your puffy red-rimmed eyes fall immediately to the five angry welts appearing already along your jawline.

You would look at yourself in sympathy too, you look like shit.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

You don't know how much time has passed since you locked yourself in the bathroom away from the others in unfounded fury and embarassment, but you can tell by the way the orange-toned light streams in through the tiny crescent window that the sun is beginning to set in the sky. Shoulders slumped against the door, you try to come to terms with having lost your brother fully to his darkness.

Sure he was bad before. And sure you had truly seen your father in Niragi last night during the pool incident. You had thought then that there was no hope for his redemption, but your judgement had been clouded by your trauma. Because you saw something else in him earlier, in the way his eyes studied you just like every other time he had in the past. Fear. For you. That flicker of softness gave you hope that the real Niragi was still in there, still within reach; but not if he did what he was supposed to be out there doing. If he killed your father, you knew it would pull him too deep into the abyss - drowning him. That would be the end. You allow your head to fall tiredly against the door, this game was becoming far too complicated, even for you.

The door to your room clicks open and Niragi slips in quickly and discreetly, already talking to who he believes is just Chishiya in the room. "Well things are well and truly going to hell in a hand basket -" he trails off having noticed the three additional people in the room. Your brother slaps a hand over his face and groans in irritation before giving everyone a once over, "And getting worse by the minute." His eyes meet Chishiya's, icily staring back at him, "You trust these people?"

Chishiya chews the inside of his cheek in consideration of Niragi's question. "She does," he affirms, motioning towards the locked bathroom door. Niragi nods once, eyes flicking briefly towards the white wooden barricade blocking you from his view. "And you?" Niragi presses, jutting his chin towards the blonde. This time Chishiya answers instantly, "I trust her." Niragi nods again in acceptance, deciding he has no extra energy to try to kick your friends out of the room, especially given that these particular friends have a lot of fight in them. He carefully places his rifle down near the doorway to the room knowing full well that you wouldn't be wanting to see a gun for a long while after this afternoon's escapades.

Your brother crosses the room languidly to the closed bathroom door, rapping his knuckles gently against it. The man knew you were very likely leaning up against it on the other side; one of your natural defense mechanisms after dealing with something particularly challenging.

"Please come out, Koko," he implores, his gentle tone another rare glimpse at the brother you've always known. When you answer his plea with silence, he sighs and slides down the door on his side, postioning himself so you're leaning back to back with the door stood between you.

Niragi chews the inside of his cheek for a moment, weighing his options. He had to talk to you, that much was obvious. The man had not expected Chishiya to allow your friends to stay, but obviously you had had your say in things and getting rid of them would only make things worse. He finally speaks again, despite having an unwanted audience present. "We've had a lot of hard conversations this way, haven't we?" he asks you with a small smile of nostalgia, earning a half-hearted hum from deep in your chest. The man runs his fingers through his wind blown hair before sighing, "I didn't do it, sweetheart. He's still alive, unfortunately." Unbeknownst to you, Niragi and Chishiya exchange a severe look at this piece of news, though somehow it is music to your ears.

You sniffle a little bit, not realizing that you were crying again. Always crying. "You didn't?" you question, surprised. You had been convinced by the look in his eyes before you were dragged away that he would easily pull the trigger with no remorse. You wouldn't even blame him, the older man deserved it; he really did. You just didn't want to lose your brother too.

"No, I didn't. But make no mistake, I wanted to. I still do," he admits, laying his head back against the door, mirroring your position. "I've worried about your safety before, many times. But never have I been more afraid than I was today. Seeing him hold a gun to you? You have no idea how sick and powerless I felt. He deserves to die."

You crack the door open slightly at your brother's vulnerability, catching everyone's attention. Niragi backs away from the door, moving to lean instead against the wall to ceiling windows to the right of the bathroom. After a moment of silent consideration, you walk quietly out of your hiding place to study your brother. Kneeling in front of him, your tired eyes search his. Once you've found him - your actual brother - you collapse into him, wrapping your arms tight around his midsection to finally receive the comfort you've been yearning for since arriving in Borderland.

You don't care that you have an audience, or that this could shatter his previously intimidating and powerful reputation at The Beach. If Niragi does, he doesn't show it; holding your head to his chest and running his fingers through your hair. Eventually you look up at him, and his thumb comes to your jaw gently, eyebrows furrowing and eyes set ablaze.

"He hurt you," the man observes, anger obviously pooling inside of him once again. You stick your tongue in your cheek as you process the hypocrisy of his statement. With your mouth pressed in a flat line, unimpressed, you state, "So did you." Holding your arm up for him to see the imprints of his own fingers standing out starkly against your smooth skin.

He studies the bruises on your arm, the ones that he put there. You watch as several conflicting emotions flicker through his eyes; realization, pain, regret, sorrow. His thumb rubs over them gently, nodding. "I know, I really fucked up yesterday," the man laments, "I'm so sorry for hurting you." You believe that he's sorry, but you're not sure you're ready to forgive him just yet. Instead of saying anything, you rest your head back down against him as you both decompress, truly allowing the weight of your new reality to fall on top of you.

Your father is still at The Beach, and he is armed. What are you going to do about it?

After a long few moments of silence, Niragi finally speaks to you again. "You're going to move into my room," he says firmly, leaving no space for discussion or bickering. He looks up to Chishiya, "Both of you. It's the only way I know you'll be safe." Chishiya chews his cheek in irritation, but ultimately nods in agreement; standing from his place in the corner of the room and beginning to gather the things he knew you would want with you.

It isn't long before you're following Chishiya down a darker corridor, two floors up from the room you were used to. The men are hauling your bags filled to the brim with junk necessities as you waltz along enjoying the journey wrapped in your mother's blanket. Niragi huffs as he readjusts his grip on what he's carrying, "Just how is it that you ended up in a wasteland version of Tokyo and you've already collected so much junk?" You grin proudly, "You know I like to be comfortable. I just like pretty things!" The corners of Chishiya's lips tilt up as he tries to keep himself from laughing. Cute.

"Like a fucking seagull, I tell you," Niragi mutters, also trying in vain to conceal a fond smile. You continue walking behind Chishiya until the man stops at the door on the end, eyeing you expectantly to open it. You tilt your head in confusion at the man, eyes narrowing, "You've been to Niragi's room before? Why?" Both men look away in avoidance, Niragi grumbling something about just getting the door open before his arms fall off. Interesting. Did this have anything to do with what happened in the first game they played together? You would normally press the two of them more, but you're kind of over it at this point. After twenty four hours packed full of hellishness, your body longs to fall into bed and sleep for days, tucking this new piece of information into your back pocket for another time.

Niragi decides that the only way they can be sure you're safe at night is by making you sleep between the two of them, that way at least one of them would wake up if your father tried to come in looking for you. Your brother also places the sturdy wooden desk chair under the handle of the door to at least try to prevent it from opening at all. You realize now, Niragi is actually terrified; acting more neurotically than you've ever seen him before. And it makes sense, because your father has a gun. And there are no laws protecting you in this cruel world.

As it turns out, this particular sleeping arrangement puts you in a very awkward situation. Stuck nestled between the man you yearn to progress your relationship with, and the one who you aren't completely sure you can trust anymore. Because although your brother was being soft with you tonight, giving you a glimpse of what you'd been missing from your old life, you were unsure if he would remain that way or revert back to Borderland Niragi. And then there was that secret that the two men must be keeping from you. How did that play into things?

You couldn't help but worry - would there come a time that you wouldn't be able to trust Chishiya either?

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

A quiet sigh pushes past your lips as you finish sorting through the latest stock of medical supplies, carefully organizing the various spools of gauze, bandages, and antiseptics that had been brought back this morning. Ann, who had been restocking the cabinet that housed the medications you were able to locate over time, looks over curiously with a sly smile painted on her cherry red lips.

"Bored already?" the woman asks, feigning offense. Smiling fondly, you glance up at her from your place on the cool concrete floor. "Not of you. Never of you!" you admit with a laugh as if it was the most ridiculous thing in the world. Because it was, Ann was one of the best people you had met here.

A little cold in demeanor, somewhat calculating. But she was smart as a whip, gentle in her ministrations, and super kind underneath it all. You weren't shocked to find that even she was often playing a game of her own.

Though you weren't in a position to see it, you could hear the door to the medical room swing open with a loud creak interrupting you. The footsteps that followed were light and airy, certainly someone that was excited to be here and not someone that was dragging themselves in falling apart and in need of medical attention.

"Oh! A-ann . . . I thought my friend was supposed to be in here tonight," Kuina's voice stammers uncharacteristically, making your eyebrows shoot up. Ann quirks an eyebrow too, glancing briefly at you hidden behind a towering filing cabinet. "Are we not friends, Kuina?" she queries teasingly.

A choked sound of embarassment comes from the back of your friend's throat and you have to cover your mouth to keep from laughing out loud at her expense. "Uh, um, no! Of course, I mean - well I mean that we are friends . . . " Kuina stumbles over her words, her usually confident demeanor obviously shaken.

Oh, she has it bad. You could not wait to tease your friend who was constantly teasing you and Chishiya over your apparent "love sickness". Ann smiles affectionately at the woman, waving her off that she was just teasing. "Are you looking for this friend?" she asks then, beckoning down at you still sprawled on the floor among medical paraphernalia.

Kuina comes closer, peeking around the corner of the cabinet at you and laughs breathily. "Yep! That friend. Thank you, Ann," the woman grins, before turning to you with wide eyes and scarlet cheeks. A smug and knowing look is plastered across your face as you prepare to tease her, but she tells you off with just a bat of her eyelashes. Ah, how your friendship had progressed in such a short time - for that you are grateful to Borderland.

Tongue in cheek, Kuina sighs before asking, "You know Niragi is leaning outside the door glaring menacingly at everyone who walks past?" You groan, slapping a hand to your forehead. "Yeah I know, he won't leave me alone anymore," you say exasperatedly, "I think he thinks that his presence will keep our father away from me." In reality, Niragi's presence has rarely, if ever, deterred your father from finding or hurting you if he was so inclined. Though, you guessed, Niragi had never had a rifle slung on his shoulder previously. So perhaps he was on to something.

Kuina huffs in disappointment, arms flailing out to the sides dramatically, "What about the pool party? We were supposed to dance the night away!" You laugh through your nose at the cute dejected look painted on your friend's features.

"We're still going to do that, we'll just ignore him. He's all moody and wrapped up in his thoughts anyway, I'm sure he'll just lean angrily on the wall and stare." That has both of you erupting in a fit of giggles; your brother was doing a lot of spiteful leaning and staring at you as you went about your life in the last couple of days since your father had arrived at The Beach.

You wish you could say that things had improved since Niragi had been super sweet and soft with you in front of all your friends, but no. Not really. Now he was just quiet, brooding. You knew that his constant presence and the way that his jaw was tightened like a wind-up toy meant this was just the calm before the storm.

"But no rainbow shots this time, Kuina!" you chastise her, shivering in remembrance of the last time you'd both gone dancing at the pool. Ann turns around to face the two of you again, having been sanitizing some medical tools in the sink. "Rainbow shots?" she questions hesitantly, as though she isn't sure she wants to know.

You groan, "Ugh, they're absolutely lethal. I ruined my best bikini that night." Ann's eyes widen at your admission, mouth opening and closing as she tries to find an appropriate response. She scoffs softly. "I've never done anything like that before," she admits quietly, "I'm not sure I like the idea of surrendering control of my mind and body . . . but also, no one's ever really invited me out to do so."

Your head snaps to study her, feeling kind of bad about what she was telling you. An idea appears in your mind, and you shoot a smirk at your friend. "Well, since we've already established that we're all friends, you should join us tonight! You never come to the pool to have fun. Please Ann?"

Both women look shocked at your words, staring at you as though they were fish you'd ripped suddenly out of water. You give your best puppy dog eyes - hey, they worked on pretty much everyone else around here, right? - pleading with the taller woman. Ann sighs, "Well if you're going to look at me like that . . . I'll give it a try."

You squeal in delight, jumping up off the floor and grabbing Kuina's hand with a wide grin. "Let's go get ready then!" you enthuse. Both women are infected by your sudden joyfulness, and all three of you strut down the hallway to prepare for the evening ahead. Well, you and Kuina strut, Ann walks casually between the two of you; starting to question if this was a good idea or not.

Before you know it, you're back under the flashing strobe lights, bass from the upbeat music pulsing in your chest. Kuina and Ann move to the beat beside you, both nursing the one drink that you'd all agreed on as your limit for the night. Yours, however, was long gone and flowing through your veins deliciously. A grin spreads across your cheeks, seeing how Kuina has loosened up now, her usual confidence returning and allowing her to teach Ann steps to a dance that she loved from home.

They are so cute together, your body feels warm and fuzzy inside seeing them laugh and enjoy each other's company. In a despairing place like this, these truly blissful moments are few and far between - both of them deserve to cherish this time together. Your mind feels on cloud nine as you admire them swaying back and forth, Kuina cackling loudly as she corrects Ann's uncertain steps.

A surprised yelp escapes your lips as Chishiya's left arm suddenly snakes around your body, hand splaying warmly across your belly and igniting your insides with fire. His right hand comes to rest gently, protectively on your waist as he rocks you to the beat of the music. His lips press lightly to your ear, goosebumps spreading like widlfire across your skin. "What are you thinking so hard about, angel?" he asks, tone low and gravelly. You turn your head slightly to him but ignore his question, "I didn't know you liked dancing, Shiya!" The man smirks behind you, "You know I don't, but you looked like a third wheel, so I thought you needed me." Your breath hitches, Chishiya's words and intimate touch compounding with the alcohol in your system and flowing through you in a dizzying concoction.

Suddenly fully charged with confidence, you turn around to face your best friend, arms draping around his neck and tangling into his fluffy blonde hair. His hands come to rest firmly at your hips, allowing you to pull yourself impossibly closer to his warmth. Your left thumb strokes a pattern against his cheek, causing a low growl to rumble in his chest, radiating heat through both of your bodies. Chishiya's eyes meet yours, electricity seeming to connect the two of you; the taut tension of desire is back in full force. You've made your decision, you don't want to play cat and mouse with your friend anymore.

Your chin tilts upwards towards his, ready to close the distance at long last. He looks down at you through lidded eyes, one warm palm coming to support the back of your neck. Your heart thunders against your ribcage, is this really going to happen? Eyelids feeling heavy with desire, your eyes naturally close, lips parting slightly in excited anticipation of feeling his lips against yours. Chishiya brings his other hand to your cheek and gently pulls away, ripping a tortured whimper from you. Why?!

You aren't above begging for what you need at this point. "Please Shiya, I want this more than anything. I'm so tired of playing this game," you whine pathetically. His lust darkened eyes study you, conflicted, before a melancholy smile appears on his face. He pulls you closer to him, holding your face with both hands and stroking his thumbs affectionately over your cheeks.

"Do you have any idea how much I want this? For how long I've been chasing you? But not like this, baby. I need you to be fully sober for this, you deserve nothing less." Chishiya's warm lips press a gentle kiss against the tip of your nose as he continues caressing your face, imprinting this image of you looking up at him into his mind. You want to fight, to demand that he kiss you because it was just one drink, but you know it would be no good. Your best friend was trying to honor you, to preserve a special milestone in your relationship instead of rushing it in a moment of lust. You should be grateful for his foresight and resolve.

You simply nod, disappointed as hell, but press your face against the column of Chishiya's neck as he wraps you against him tightly. "No more games?" you ask after a minute or two, dying to know if you were finally acknowledging your true feelings and at least progessing your relationship tonight.

"No more games," he affirms, rocking you back and forth alongside him to the quick tempo of the lively music that filled the air around you. The man himself doesn't dance, but it's sweet how he guides your body to the beat. You look back up to him laughing as he twirls you around, shining eyes meeting his striking chestnut ones. The music and the chatter of the pool party seems to fade out around the two of you as you lose yourself in the depths of his eyes.

The way he looks at you now, reverently admiring you in front of him, makes your heart swell with joy. He smiles a small smile before observing, "We never picked our conversation back up." You furrow your eyebrows, confused. You've had a million conversations between the two of you in your lifetime, how were you supposed to remember a specific one? He studies you for a minute, before reminding you. "I told you that I love when you laugh like that for me," he whispers, jogging your memory. The night that everything had changed.

You bite your lower lip, slightly nervous to ask the question that's weighing heavily in the back of your mind, "Do you . . . do you still feel that way? Even after everything that has changed?" The blonde grins at you now, pressing his thumb against your lower lip and bringing his face close to yours so you can hear him, "I love it even more now, it reminds me that you're still here with me, still healthy and happy." You let out a sigh of relief, your darkness hadn't pushed him away. Your fingers find the metal-tipped string from the hood of his white jacket, fidgeting with it to settle the butterflies erupting in your stomach.

"So are we like . . . finally more than friends?" you ponder, again with some anxiety. You'd felt like your relationship had shifted long long ago, but didn't know what was really going on in the man's head. He smirks at you again, eyes staring longingly at your lips for a tense moment. "I think we've been more than friends for a long time, darling," he whispers huskily, brushing some hair out of your face and behind your ear. "I've been trying to claw my way out of the friendzone for at least as long as we've been here, and even some time before that."

You laugh at how blind you'd been, different moments of "more than friends" actions flooding your brain. "Then are we . . .?" you trail off, gesturing between the two of you. Honestly, you're both idiots about relationships, having absolutely no foundation for how one should look or function. You don't even know what you're asking, not really. But it doesn't matter, Chishiya knows and understands you perfectly. He nods, "I'm all yours, I always have been." You feel your eyes filling with tears at his admission. You throw your arms around his neck again, nuzzling again into the warmth of his neck.

"I'm all yours too, Shiya. I always have been and I always will be."

From across the pool deck, Niragi watches the interaction knowingly. The man pushes himself off the wall he'd been leaning on with a small, satisfied smile and returning into the hotel. You don't need him here tonight.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

Hatter was utterly convinced - this would be the Ten of Spades game that you were still desperately seeking. The card that would complete The Beach's - well, his - Spades collection. That's how the entire Militant faction and you had found yourselves glaring up at the colorful entrance gate for Toshimaen Amusement Park; bright, neon lights casting a looming shadow over your massive group. The theme park no longer gives off an air of whimsy and excitement, but instead fills you with a sense of absolute dread.

Why were you here? For the obvious, because Niragi is here, left hand gripping your shoulder tightly. A silent demand - stay close. You are rarely, if ever, out of your brother's sight these days, and game nights were no different. This time, for good reason. As you'd come to learn, your father was also a part of the Militant faction; the man standing capriciously off to the side nearest Last Boss. You wonder maliciously if Last Boss could just slip to the side a tiny bit and impale the old man - but that would be too good to be true.

And for the less obvious, Hatter seems to have it in his head that you are some sort of Spades master after clearing so many of them in the last few weeks. And so, here you are. In terms of things that are triggering to your childhood trauma, this was probably a 1000 on the scale. This was one place that your father had surprisingly brought you and Niragi in your childhood, many many times. It was the ultimate irony to be brought back here with both men, though under very different circumstances.

You were stuck between wishing for your brother to remove his hand from you and leaning more deeply into him for comfort. You could feel the familiar inklings of panic starting to surge through your veins; a combination of your abuser's smiling face standing way too close and the falsely cheerful lights flashing overstimulatingly all around you. You try in vain to choke back a sob that attempts to escape you, this would be the worst place in the world to start freaking out. You need to stay calm. Niragi isn't stupid though; he feels your stressed movement under his hand and glances down to study you. Your glassy eyes stay fixed forward and you continue trying to breathe through your rapidly constricting airway.

Niragi makes the decision for you, adjusting his grip on you so his entire forearm rests comfortingly across your chest, hand now firmly gripping the opposite shoulder. He pulls you more tightly against him, your back colliding against his chest. Though you wish to have more fight in you, you feel your body melt against him, your nerves soothed by the familiar stance. "I know, just try to stay calm, okay? We'll get out of here soon," he mumbles.

Just then, the sickeningly familiar chime indicates that registration has closed, and the game would be beginning momentarily.

[Difficulty: Six of Spades] Collectively, the entire group aside from the random outsiders groans. Another duplicate card, you and Aguni had cleared a Six of Spades the first night you'd been at The Beach officially.

[Game: Beast Hunter]

[Rules: All players need to cooperate to defeat all the beasts inside the venue. A point value is assigned to each, and is as follows:

Crows = 1 point

Eagles = 30 points

Wild Boars = 50 points

Panthers = 80 points

Tigers = 100 points]

[Clear Condition: All predators are killed]

[Game Over: All players are killed off by the predators]

[Weapons are allowed] This particular phrase makes you feel a wave of relief and nausea all at once. Chishiya had insisted you bring your pistol to this game with you, knowing that your father would be here and honestly not knowing if you could trust Niragi to protect you from him. The heavy piece of steel weighed thickly in the pocket of the cargo pants you'd dug out of your closet - you'd thought they would be the best bet for smuggling the weapon you weren't supposed to have.

Aguni steps forward to address his group, "Everyone that doesn't have a gun should be paired with someone who does. Niragi, you stick with Last Boss," you feel your brother tense up, pulling you ever closer to him. Aguni looks at you now, "You'll be safe with Katashi. Stick with him, okay?" Niragi's entire body jolts viscerally and you know your eyes widen, betraying the cool demeanor you try to emulate during games. Why would Aguni do this to you? Does he really not know the truth about your father? Or . . .?

"Absolutely the fuck not. There is no way in hell that -" Niragi's outraged rant is cutoff immediately by Aguni's sharp tone, "Niragi. Who's your boss?" Your brother opens his mouth and then closes it again. A low grumble radiates inside his chest as he tries to figure out how to handle this without making more of a scene. He gently turns you around to look at him, "I'm going to try to stay near you until the game is over, but if we get separated, run. Understand?" You suck a sharp, needling breath into your lungs, trying to steady yourself and nodding weakly to your brother.

He didn't know you had a weapon on you, and you hoped you wouldn't have to use it tonight.

Your hopes for an easy game were quickly dashed. Aguni's plan was a nice one, in theory, but it turns out that even big, tough Militants have a penchant for freaking out and dispersing as quickly as they can when they're being chased down by a bloodthirsty tiger. A tiger, which by the way, is much much larger in real life than you could have ever imagined.

You'd lost Niragi and Last Boss almost instantaneously; your father just grinning away dnagerously beside you as you make your way deeper into the park. Of course he wasn't afraid of the animals. Neither was the man really attempting to hunt the predators closing in on you. He was attempting to hunt you. You feel your pulse racing quickly in your throat; Aguni had served you up to him on a silver platter. Intentionally? You weren't sure of the man's motives anymore.

Niragi's instructions echoed through your head, "Run." You don't think twice about it before bolting off in the opposite direction of where you'd originally been heading, sneakers pounding the cracked pavement path straight to the fun house that had always scared you when you were little. You're lucky in a way, your father is slow; but still trotting after you inevitably.

Red and black velvet curtains cascade around the lobby, the breeze from your sudden entrance causing them to billow mockingly. Your hands shake slightly as you draw the heavy metal of your pistol out of your pocket; it wasn't going to be a matter of if your father found you in here, but when.

Pushing your way gently through one of the red curtains, you make an attempt to keep the curtain from giving away which direction you'd initially chosen. Your journey through the house begins with a pitch black room. With both hands held out in front of you, you feel around for the wall. Niragi had always taught you to try to follow the right-hand wall to quickly navigate your way through the maze. For whatever reason, your hand comes into contact accidentally with something breakable. A vase? Glass shatters around you as the object clatters to the floor, your entire body jolting with surprise at the loud sound contrasting the silence that had been surrounding you like a cloak.

The curtain you'd come through is ripped open violently, nearly being yanked from its track with the force and allowing a small amount of light from the lobby to filter into the pitch black space. The silhouette of your father is backlit, and you leap quickly away from where the light would allow him to see you. Taking the advantage of having seen a little bit ahead, you run as silently as possible toward the next room, covering your mouth to be quiet.

"You must be so scared, huh, Butterfly? You've always hated these houses, ya used to cry and cry until your brother came to save you," your father tells you in mock nostalgia, "But Niragi isn't here to come save you now. What ever are you going to do?" You want to ignore his menacing voice, but what he's said is true - Niragi wasn't going to be able to help you here. He'd almost certainly never find you in time. With a deep breath through your nose, you proceed into the next hallway, a skinny room housing a black metal bridge.

Your left hand grips tightly onto the railing, causing the room around you to illuminate in neon purples, oranges, and greens; the colors swirling quickly around the bridge like a vortex. A spinning tunnel - an element that is intended to confuse your brain and body, making it feel as though the bridge itself was moving under your feet. You inhale one more steadying breath, taking your time crossing the bridge one step at a time. You're just about 3/4 of the way over the bridge when you hear your father grousing about how dizzy these things make him. Your head turns to watch him start to cross the bridge too, the man staggering and stumbling along as his brain is confused. If you weren't nearly paralyzed in fear, you'd probably laugh at his expense. Closing your eyes tight the rest of the way, you surge forward to get off the bridge and into the next room, only to feel your body instantly plummeting through the darkness.

You can't help the yelp of surprise turned to terror as you fall a few feet before landing in a pit of plastic with a crash. Dim lighting surrounds you when you open your eyes - you've landed in a ball pit at least the size of a normal swimming pool. If your memory serves you correctly, you'd usually start crying for Niragi right about now, as the balls have always made you feel claustrophobic. Not today though. You start swimming through the material, trying to get as close to the ladder that will lift you out of this colorful prison before your father catches up.

The man does catch up, canon-balling without hesitation into the pool of plastic now only a couple of feet away from you. You make the decision to go underneath the surface of the balls in some sort of attempt to camouflage yourself. You swim along for a few moments, terror building quickly in your chest, as though you are really underneath the water in a pool. You look up briefly to see the ladder nearly within arm's reach, but see no sign of your father behind you. Fuck.

Just as your hand reaches up for the ladder, a hand grabs firmly onto your ankle dragging you back away from it. You shriek, unable to hold your terror inside any further, kicking away at your father as hard as you can. "Aww, what's wrong? You don't like playing hide and seek anymore?" his cruel voice teases. No the fuck you do not.

With your father towering over you, hand still wrapped around your left ankle, you bring your right foot up to kick him hard in the nose. With a sickening crack, he cries out, bringing both hands to his face that's already pouring blood. You waste no time in jumping for the ladder and scampering away from the man as he screams violent obscenities at you.

The whimsical lights dance across the maze of mirrors now placed in front of you, and you take a deep breath to try and settle your nerves. It had been a bad idea to willingly allow yourself to become disoriented by this not so fun house, but you had to try to lose your father somehow. And at the very least, in here, the roaming beasts were likely not an additional variable stacked against you.

You feel your stomach swirl in nausea as you step into the seemingly circular room, surrounding yourself with mirrors on all sides. You catch your reflection in one of them, noticing how terrified and sick you look, even in the distorted picture.

"Come on, Butterfly. You don't need to keep running. I won't hurt you," his sickening voice calls, echoing through the previous room. You begin lightly touching each of the mirrors, your reflection getting distorted in different crazy ways, trying to find your way forward in silence. When your hand finally doesn't catch glass, you sprint forward to the next room, a series of strobe lights cascading over you.

The difficulty had escalated quickly, white light blinding as it is reflected off of the hallway filled with more disorienting mirrors. You creep along the right side of the hall, attempting to rule out each mirror being the next exit that you're looking for. Your head snaps to your left, noticing one of the black velvety curtains rustling. You bring your left hand up to cover your mouth, to keep yourself from screaming in terror.

A brief glance into the mirror next to you shows something you don't want to see, your father's face appearing over your shoulder. You spin around fast, dizzying yourself unwillingly to face him as a bullet whizzes past your face and shatters the glass behind you. You do scream now, dropping to the floor and crawling along the hallway attempting in desperation to find a way out.

Bullets cascade around the overstimulating room, lights flashing in every direction and broken glass pelting the floor all around you. You don't know how many mirrors have been broken, but your father will definitely have bad luck for a long time. Finally, you're able to find the edge of a different curtain, yanking yourself through to get away from the murderous psycho behind you. Leaning up against something sturdy in the darkened room, you attempt to catch your breath. Even in your wildest dreams about your father, you'd never faced something as terrifying than this.

"You little brat! I should have taken care of you long ago - you deserve this you know!" His voice rings out, seemingly surrounding you on all sides and threatening to suffocate you.

Those words. You deserve this. You feel the tension in your mind finally snap, as though you were a dry twig in the forest being bent over and over. The cloudy, swirling darkness you held repressed deep down inside snakes out easily and takes over your entire body. No longer are you scared. No longer is your breathing uneven and forced. Because no. No the fuck you did not deserve this. You never had. You never would. Fuck. This. Fuck him.

Your dark eyes glisten with the fire of your rage, ripping the curtain back open and firing your pistol haphazardly back into the flashing room. You don't expect to kill him, nor do you even expect to hit him. But you DO expect to send a message - I'm done. Be very afraid of what you've created. I have a fucking weapon.

You hear your father groan in pain over the sound of more mirrors shattering, his bulky form dropping to the floor. Relief floods you, that at least one of your shots had hit him. As you study him on the floor from your place in the corner, definitely injured but not at risk of dying, your eyes catch on one of the spaces that reflects light differently, walking casually through the doorway and out into the open night air.

Blood courses loudly in your ears, the rage you feel threatening to bubble up in the form of more violence. Your teeth are clenched so hard that your jaw may snap, the pistol clasped tightly between both hands. You move slowly, calculatedly through the amusement park, listening for sounds of movement. You can vaguely hear screaming and talking from other areas, but nothing in your immediate vicinity.

You needed to find someone other than your father. Because if he found you again, you knew you would finish the job. You weren't yourself right now.

It's then that you hear a commotion from behind a row of colorful ginko trees and decide to approach, holding your silver pistol confidently between both hands. Your eyes widen to find Niragi on the ground wrestling a feral looking black panther, his rifle having skidded across the pavement too far for him to reach.

You know you should feel scared, worried about your brother. But instead you feel the eerie prickle of calm bubbling under your skin, I can handle this. Your eyes narrow as you focus on the massive feline, raising your weapon with steady hands. With one level breath out, you shoot the beast directly between the eyes, never once hesitating to worry that you'd hit Niragi, not wavering for even a second. The cat falls, your brother quickly pushing it off of him and scrambling to retrieve his fallen rifle. The man shoots the beast again, a second and third time, for good measure before looking up to you in surprise.

You're already walking away from him by the time he calls out your name, "Where the fuck did you get that?" When you answer him with silence and continue walking along the path towards the ferris wheel, he yells again while jogging to catch up, "What the fuck?" You turn slowly to look at him, eyes black. "I just saved your fucking life, does it really matter?" You ask in a monotone voice. Hand on your shoulder, your brother looks at you, really looks at you, studying your expression and your darkened eyes. Recognizing your darkness. He simply shakes his head with a tired sigh, falling into step beside you. He understands now.

[Game Clear - Congratulations] The rest of the group must have well and truly carried your team today, given that the only thing you'd taken down was the panther Niragi was tangled up with and your father, who was not on the scoreboard.

As you're about to leave the amusement park property, your brother stops and holds his hand towards you, waiting. You look up at him, he can't be serious. But the look he's giving you is very serious. "Give it to me," he says in a hushed tone bringing his face just inches from yours ensuring you really see him, "Let it go. The darkness doesn't suit you."

Biting the inside of your cheek, you want to call him a hypocrite. But Niragi is right, you don't think it suits you either. You don't want to be like your father. Like him. You pull the pistol out of your pocket and place it gingerly in his hand before continuing your languid walk back to the car.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

Hatter isn't happy that the entire Militant faction plus The Beach's Princess had been wasted on a repeat game. He's also pissed that his precious friend Katashi was brought back to the resort unconscious and bleeding, much to your dismay. How had someone even found him?

Niragi had side-eyed you in shock and pride when Aguni and another guy carried your injured father into the room, desperately wishing to know what he had done to you that had finally made you snap at the theme park. You'd simply stared through the older man, emotionless face barely flickering in acknowledgment.

Suddenly the room has erupted into absolute chaos - Hatter, Aguni, and Niragi all yelling at each other about different things. How long it was taking to collect all the cards. The imbalance of power between Executives and Militants - that the latter were bearing all the weight of keeping The Beach running. Your father being brought to The Beach in the first place. You realized in this moment that the power struggle you'd been warned about was starting to come to fruition and you worry that at least one of the three will end up dead tonight. Chishiya guides you away from the conflict, taking his hand in yours and pulling you to the elevator.

When the both of you make it back to Niragi's room, Chishiya pulls your chin to rest on his chest, hands coming to cup your cheeks as he studies you with concerned eyes, "What happened out there? Are you hurt?" You shake your head, eyes glancing to the bed to avoid his direct gaze. "I'm not ready to talk about it yet, Shiya," you tell him in a small voice. The man nods in understanding, holding your head against his chest as he squeezes you tight and presses a tender kiss to your forehead.

You're so mentally and emotionally exhausted from the night that you fall asleep almost as soon as Chishiya begins reading to you, wrapped tightly in your mother's blanket and head laid heavily in the man's lap. You don't know how long you're allowed to sleep before Niragi is in front of you, shaking you awake again. You blink your eyes blearily up at him, not super thrilled about being woken back up, least of all by him. "Is this important?" you demand crankily.

Your brother reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, flashing your pistol at you. "I'm giving this back to you because unfortunately I'm afraid you're going to need it. But don't make me remind you what will happen if you're caught with it here," he says with an exhausted sigh.

They'll make me kill you.

You nod in tired understanding, taking the cold metal into your hands tentatively without a word as your brother proceeds to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Your eyes study the shining metal for a moment, the weapon reminding you of all that had happened tonight and causing a wave of nausea to wash over you. Chishiya must see a certain look cross your face, because he sets his book down on the nightstand and runs his fingers through your hair for comfort. "Okay, baby?" he asks, caressing his other thumb over your cheek and making your eyes heavy again. "I will be," you smile gently up at the man, taking his hand in yours as his other hand continues stroking your hair.

When the lights are finally turned off for the night and the men on either side of you have fallen asleep, your suddenly wide awake brain makes a bold decision.

You know that if Niragi pulls the trigger on your father, it would be the final step - he would finally plummet fully into darkness with no hope of being saved. You couldn't let that happen. You were still angry with your brother; you wanted to hate him for hurting you. But watching the way he's been since your father returned, you know he is still redeemable. And you. You had snapped tonight, had let your darkness fully take control and take care of a situation.

You deserve this, you know.

You know you don't. You know Niragi doesn't. And it isn't fair for Niragi to continue carrying all of the burden on his own. Your brother has sacrificed everything for you. It was your turn to sacrifice for him - to save him. From your father, from himself. It had to be you.

You were determined now, when it came down to it, and it would - you would be the one to kill your father.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

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natailiatulls07 · 1 year ago

Text

Stay

Lando Norris x female!reader

Summary - Everyone knew about Y/n and Landos toxic relationship, so when they broke up it was easy right?

Warning - cheating, swearing, toxic relationship and ANGST lol

A/n - 'It's okay Pt.2' is on it's way don't worry <3

Sort of based around this song

Anyone with a pair of eyes and common sense could see how toxic the relationship between McLaren driver, Lando Norris and model, Y/n L/n was. Espercially those close to the couple.

Each were spotted flirting with other people shamelessly. Everyone was sure that each had affairs. Yet both would return to eachothers arms the next day.

"Mate..." Oscar muttered. He, Lando, Carlos and Logan were all at Oscars place, hanging out when he brought up the relationship. "When are you going to end your relationship?"

The night before every formula one and non formula one gossip page had three names rolling off their tongues. Y/n L/n and Lando Norris and...

Jacob Elordi

Y/n was seen kissing and flirting with Jacob in public. Every gossip page had pictures of the kiss plastured across their feed, hundreds of headlining articles and for you pages filled. "Well actually she broke it off...last night before she went out, we're over..." Lando muttered, looking down at his beer.

Surprise captured their faces, before it was replaced with relief. "Oh I bet that was quick and easy, a mutual agreement" Carlos laughs, Oscar and Logan agreeing with him.

British driver awkwardly chuckles, remembering the night before. "Yeah...quick and easy..."

"Y/n come on! I said I was sorry!" His voice echos through their apartment. Lando and Y/n had gotten into yet another fight, thing is this time it felt more intense than usual.

Y/n shakes her head rapidly. "No no Lando, you fucking insinuated to the press that I'm a slut!" She was annoyed, he had just humiliated his own girlfriend to millions. "I can't do this."

All sound stopped, their heavy footsteps stopped and silence filled the space between them. Lando's expression morphed into a look of concern and worry. "What do you mean? Y/n what are you saying?"

He continues to look into her eyes, but Y/ns eyes flicker anywhere but his. Taking a deep breath. "I can't Lando" She started to shake her head. "This relationship, it...it doesn't work"

It felt like someone was stealing the air out of his lungs, Lando felt like he was been suffocated. "No Y/n, stop no" He was pleading with her.

"Maybe we should break off our relationship...it's too toxic, anyone can see it" Salty tears clouded the eyes of both. They both knew this couldn't go on but in a weird way, neither of them wanted to end it.

Lando felt himself fall to his knees. He never considered himself to be the type, but something possessed him. "Please." Eyes pleading and desperate. "Stay."

With a shaky breath and a frantic shake of her head. Y/n couldn't believe what was happening, couldn't believe how Lando was begging her to stay with him.

The driver continued. "I want you Y/n, I need you..." No longer was Y/ns eyes frantically avoiding his eyes. They were locked on eachother.

Neither had the heart to speak, both heavily weighed down with hesitation.

There was a laugh. "Oh my god! At least you didn't beg on your knees, that would be a low blow to your ego" Logans voice laughed. This was quickly followed by chuckles and nodding from Carlos and Oscar.

Landos fake smile fleeted slightly, his eyes dropped to the beer in his hand. "No...couldn't do that to my ego..." Chuckling softly. He felt a hand pat him on the back.

"Good lad..." Carlos' spanish loud accent filled the room above the laugh. Non of them noticing Landos slight absence from the moment.

It was Oscars turning to speak up. "Better off without her" All he got in return was a slow nod, lights on but no ones home. Was he really better off without her.

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qu1cks1lversb1tch · 1 year ago

Text

Everything | Overlord!Husk x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Overlord!Husk fluff, established relationship with reader, very sweet and domestic, a slightly intimate moment near the end

Word Count: 913

Summary: You were out to support your fiancé while he did his job, but by the end you were about ready to drop, so he steps in to remind you exactly why you're marrying him and not some other overlord.

A/N — I've never written for Husk before — let alone Overlord!Husk, so I'm hoping this gets some love 💗

"It's about that time, my love." You whispered in his ear, watching the hands on the clock tick with every passing second — every passing minute.

Tick.

"I'll be done soon, Doll." His grip around your waist tightened as the men around the table stared you down like a piece of meat.

You thought he was insane playing high stakes games. On more than one occasion you found yourself uttering the phrase 'play stupid games, win stupid prizes', which was essentially the equivalent to 'fuck around and find out'. . . Which you had also said many, many, many times.

Husk nearly always had a good hand, so the prize was often money or jewelry — anything that was bet and valuable at the time of his win. Even souls, if they were put on the line. You loved watching those ones, as twisted as it likely sounded.

Hell, you were almost certain the engagement ring that sat prettily on your finger was won in a bet. No complaints regardless of how it came to be. It was sparkly and just your style.

The only time you had a complaint was when he chose gambling over his responsibilities. . . Namely making sure you were happy and satisfied. Even then, it was a rare occasion, despite practically being his whole job.

Tonight, though, you were bored.

You were hungry.

You were tired and just wanted to go home — but you stayed to support him and it was now long past when the two of you ate dinner and it was rapidly approaching the time when you usually went to bed, knowing your mornings were early and consisted of mentally taxing wedding planning with your closest friends.

You loved them, though, and appreciated all of their ideas. Who in Hell didn't love the idea of an event as important as an overlord wedding?

Bitter, loveless souls obviously — but other than that. . . Who?

When the game finally came to an end, it was no surprise to you when Husk collected his winnings. Almost 10K and two souls. You loved when things worked out.

"Let's get you home, Doll. You look fuckin' exhausted."

"You really know how to flatter a woman." You snorted, allowing him to lead you out of the casino he owned. "I should lock you out of the room for mentioning my exhaustion in public."

"Oh, don't be like that!" He smirked, playing into the little game you always played. When he played back, you knew you were about to get your way. "Gonna make you forgive me, one way or another."

You hummed with a smirk of your own, looking away from him. "We'll see."

"How about. . . Dinner at the house and a nice hot bath, hmm? . . And your favorite ice cream?"

Your smirk morphed into a smile. "Close, but we'll see."

"I'll join you?"

"You're forgiven."

It wasn't long before you were sat at the table eating the quick and delicious meal that Husk made — it was far from something he would've usually made, but it was delicious and you enjoyed it.

He finished eating first and went to run the bath for you, but not without kissing you on the forehead on his way to the shared bedrooms ensuite bathroom.

You loved that bathroom — it had been what sold you on the house in the first place. Sure, the kitchen was nice, but the bathroom had a huge bathtub, a spacious shower, and the colors of the floor and shower tiles went together without clashing or being gaudy.

The lighting wasn't bad either.

You called it your 'own little slice of Heaven'.

You soon finished and put your plate in the sink, but before you could wash up the couple dishes, Husk grabbed your hand and guided you to the bathroom where he urged you to undress and get into the hot bath while he handled the couple dishes.

You did as he asked and got undressed, stepping into the tub filled with water and bubbles. Immediately, the stress from the day melted away as the heat soothed the aching muscles that you surprisingly hadn't noticed until then.

Husk joined you a few minutes later, slipping into the water behind you. He hated water as much as the next cat, but for you, he'd do anything and everything.

"It was a long fuckin' day." He groaned at the hot water, your back pressed against his chest.

"You're telling me. . . I thought it would never end." You chuckled and then sighed contently. "I could fall asleep right here."

"You love going with me and you know it." Husk mused, his hands finding their way into your hair, fidgeting with the strands in a way that raised goosebumps.

"I do. But I also love having moments like this. Moments where it's just us. No gambling. No overlord society gala. No worries. Just us in our slice of Heaven."

He couldn't help but agree, those moments were perhaps the best part of his day.

And he'd give you that.

He'd give you everything.

It didn't matter what it was, whether it was material or otherwise. He loved you, so the world was yours if you asked. Money. Power. Anything. Everything.

"We have all of eternity for moments like this. . . We've already taken the first step." He ran one of his clawed hands down your arm until it was placed in the hand that the sparkly ring adorned, glistening in the light.

Everything for all of eternity.

🏷Tags: @6esiree

#hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #husk x reader #husk x you #hazbin hotel x female reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #husker hazbin hotel #hazbin husker #husker x reader

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mothwingwritings · 1 year ago

Text

What Picture Of You The Baki Men Choose As Their Phone Background, Pt. 1 <3

Reader X Baki, Retsu, and Katsumi

I saw this prompt for some other fandoms and thought it was absolutely adorable, so here are some silly little sweet headcanons for your reading pleasure!

Thank you and I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Mostly fluff, some mentions of suggestive themes and spicy texts, but other than that it’s rather mild. Also, it’s pretty lightly edited. No gendered words, but leans towards a female reader.

/)/) /)/) ( . .) (⸝⸝ᵕ ᵕ) ~ ♪ (ა📱ა૮( )ა

Baki Hanma 📱

Lock Screen- A cute picture of the two of you from one of your first official dates. It was at an amusement park and some of the park employees were greeting oncoming guests dressed up as mascots, milling around the front of the park posing with and taking pictures with the newcomers. At the time you were rather embarrassed, the characters mostly flocked to the children that were entering the park, but since there were no children in your party they all buzzed around you instead. The huge, florescent pink cat-suited individual that danced around you commented on what a lovely couple you were, urging you and Baki to form a heart with your hands as they posed energetically behind you, their cohort (an equally bright blue dog) snapping a quick picture of the three of you with Baki’s phone. Though the photo was rushed and a little blurry, you are all smiles in the shot, both yourself and Baki looking both bashful and genuinely happy. The love radiating through that image alone warms his heart each time he glances at it, and it warmed yours in turn to know he cherished the memory as much as you did, going so far as to set it as his lock screen so that he could be reminded of it each time he checked his phone.

Home Screen- A candid picture of yourself on another one of your dates, taken quite some time after the amusement park picture was taken. The newbie awkwardness in your relationship had greatly diminished at this point, a peaceful sort of comfort and familiarity now reigning supreme in your romance. Years of being with another person does that to you, your new-relationship jitters subsiding as you get to know all about your partner, their best and worst sides. With time all their obnoxious or gross habits have long since been laid bare, but you are still somehow simultaneously finding new things about them that make you love them even more. Your love changes with time, morphing from something fresh and new to something much deeper, more concrete, more real. The picture he displayed on his homes screen was taken on a random day at a random time when nothing in particular was going on. You were simply walking in front of him and stopped for a brief moment to look at something across the way. He wasn’t even sure what it was that caught your attention, didn’t even really care, he was just fully fixated on you and how breathtakingly gorgeous you looked in that average, everyday moment. Before he even realized he was doing it he snapped a pic, and he was very grateful that he did. Each time he stares at his screen his heart races, beating so rapidly it’s as if he was back in the puppy-love stage of the relationship, and he falls for you all over again.

/)/) /)/) ( . .) (⸝⸝ᵕ ᵕ) ~ ♪ (ა📱ა૮( )ა

Retsu Kaioh 📱

Lock Screen- Like Baki, Retsu is rather fond of candid pictures. Something about capturing you spur of the moment in your day to day life really appeals to him, his heart fluttering when he catches glimpses of reminders that you have become a part of his daily routine. He gets to witness you in all states of being, and knowing you are comfortable enough around him to be your most natural, unguarded self, warms his heart like nothing else. You yourself didn’t find anything super special about the picture he took of you at the home and garden store. If anything you felt the image of yourself holding a succulent in a death grip, eying it a little too intensely as you debated whether you wanted to purchase it or not, was embarrassing. Retsu begs to differ, and each time you gripe about it he goes on a mini spiel, explaining to you in a little too much detail just how endearing he finds your ‘suffering an internal crisis as you try to find the perfect plant for the kitchen windowsill’ expression. This never ceases to instantly make your cheeks blush bright red at the impassioned nature of his tone. Still, the fact that he can find such ardent moments of love in the mundane is one of the reasons why you fell for him to begin with. You hope to share many more little adventures with him that yield even more random pictures you can look back on and smile, whether you personally find them flattering or not. As long as they bring Retsu joy, you will find joy in them as well.

Home Screen- If the picture of you at the store made you a little self-conscious, then his home screen was enough to make you want to bury your face and cry. At some point he had snapped an image of you asleep on the couch. This wasn’t some cutesy ‘I just fell asleep and look like a peaceful little angel’ snooze either- you were DEEP in the troughs of a nap, completely dead to the world. Mouth wide open with a rivulet of drool seeping out the side, old shirt rumpled up with your hand rested on your exposed belly, hair an absolute rats nest as it messily framed your head, it was the kind of picture that could easily be used as blackmail. Yet Retsu cherished it, beaming down at it like a parent looking at their child’s straight A report card. While you cringed each time you peered at his phone screen, questioning why in the world he would pick such an unflattering picture of you to stare at each day, it crossed your mind that maybe he set it as a joke, or to poke fun at you. That thought was quickly laid to rest however, as the sheer look of pure love that reflected in his eyes each time he stared at it made you keenly aware that his choice of setting it as his wallpaper was no prank. Somehow he found true beauty in that gross picture of you, and that in and of itself melted your heart a little bit. So it didn’t really matter how much you loathed the picture, after seeing Retsu’s puppy dog eyes as he stared at your passed out visage you decided it was fine to let him keep it as his background in lieu of something a little more complementary (as long as no one else was allowed to use his phone and potentially see it, that is).

/)/) /)/) ( . .) (⸝⸝ᵕ ᵕ) ~ ♪ (ა📱ა૮( )ა

Katsumi Orochi 📱

Lock Screen- He is definitely the type of dude to have some kind of dweeby, professionally done picture of the two of you as his lock screen. You remember thinking he was kidding when he asked you if you were interested in booking a couples photo session, but when you noted the serious look in his eye as he pressed the issue, you knew the offer wasn’t a joke. Though hesitant, you found yourself unable to turn him down, and a few days later you found yourself in a photo studio posing awkwardly while a photographer happily snapped away, complimenting what a cute couple you were as he directed you to pose this way or that. Despite the previous uncertainty and slightly uncomfortable atmosphere, quite a few gems were born from the shoot, and you ended up being very happy to have some beautifully charming shots to look back on. A certain picture stood out from the rest, one grabbed just as some silly, random comment from Katsumi made you both burst into a fit of laughter. With his arms wrapped around you from behind and huge genuine smiles engulfing both your faces, you leaned into one other, reliant on each other’s support lest you collapse to the ground into a pile of giggles. It was such a fun, happy capture that it very easily became your all-time favorite picture of the two of you. So you couldn’t help but smile when you happened to spy his lock screen, finding it ironic that he chose your favorite picture to grace his background, especially when your own lock screen displayed the exact same pic. <3

Home Screen- A spicier selfie you sent him in the past. While there is no nudity in the shot itself, you can pinpoint the precise moment you took the shot, remembering it as one that definitely led to some much more revealing pictures (with provocative text to match). You also remembered being quite proud of the selfie- the seductive smolder in your eye, the way your shirt had slunk down your shoulder, the coy little smile on your face as you bit into your bottom lip, all of it came together for a truly sexy presentation. You weren’t one to often brag about your looks, but that day you worked hard to look hot and it had certainly paid off. That day had also blessed you with good lighting and one of the best hair/makeup days of your life, so to see the image grace his phone screen made butterflies burst in your stomach, a feeling of elation washing over you with the realization that the effort you put in was not in vain. Though it made you blush a little to see that he had made one of the private pictures you sent him his phone background, there was no denying that it pleased you greatly. He was the type of man that earnestly believed that you were the most gorgeous thing on the planet no matter how much or little you were dolled up, but realizing that he took extra notice of when you put in effort to look your best for him, liking it to the point of making it a picture he could stare at all day (while all manner of fantasies were surely buzzing through his brain)…. Well, it certainly set your heart a flutter, for more reason than one.

/)/) /)/) ( . .) (⸝⸝ᵕ ᵕ) ~ ♪ (ა📱ა૮( )ა

#baki x reader #baki x y/n #baki the grappler x reader #baki the grappler x y/n #baki hanma x reader #baki hanma x y/n #retsu kaioh x reader #retsu kaioh x y/n #katsumi orochi x reader #katsumi orochi x y/n #baki headcanons #baki the grappler headcanons #just felt like writing some fluff in between all the carnage I usually unleash upon the masses lul #thank you so much for reading!!!#mothwingswritings #more will probs come later #I am thinking of Jack Hanayama and Biscuit next

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mochiwrites · 1 year ago

Note

For the ask game/prompt, mayhaps #1 with Scarian? Could be in canon, one of your AUs, or any other AU you think of lol, no preference ☺️

01. Touch starved/cuddle curse (put that guy in a situation!)

reblogs do more than likes!

"How in the world have you managed this, Scar?!" Grian's indignant voice exclaims, echoing in the small space of Scar's train car. The avian looks down at the man currently pouting at him, a sheepish expression on his face.

"I-I don't know! Joel just gave me this potion thingy and -- and said it would be good for bonding with cOW!" As he speaks, he makes a grabbing motion for Grian, his pout morphing into a pleading look.

Grian pointedly takes a step back from Scar's outreaching arms, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Trusting Joel was your first mistake," he mumbles, sucking in a breath.

"He's a trustworthy fellow!" Scar retorts, "Besides, I don't see what's so bad about this arrangement... all I want to do is cuddle with you."

"That's exactly the problem, Scar!" The feathers of Grian's wings fluff up as he stares at his husband with a firm look. "I have building I have to do! Shops to set up, permits to not do! I also promised Gem I'd help her out with something in a few hours. I can't just stay here with you all day."

Scar's pleading expression only becomes stronger, his green eyes looking shiny as he stares up at Grian from where he sits on his head. "Please, lovebird? Just for a little bit?" He makes another grabbing motion for Grian, who finds his resolve rapidly crumbling the longer he looks at Scar.

"Nuh uh mister, I know exactly how this sort of thing goes. We both know it won't just be 'for a little bit,'" he answers. Grian's making any desperate attempts at keeping his denial firm.

But... he could just tell Gem he'd be around tomorrow. And it's not like the Permit Office is really ever open. They're only sometimes there to help anyway. And he still hasn't come up with any ideas for his mushroom stem shop.

"I promise this time I'll stick to it! Only a few hours, I swear on my hat!" Scar exclaims, eagerly nodding.

"Where have I heard that one before," Grian mumbles under his breath, fondness written into each and every word. He lets out a little sigh, "Alright, alright, fine. But only for a few hours! Let's hope this... cuddle affliction has run its course by then."

He takes a step toward Scar, and the moment he's close enough, a hand jumps out to grab hold of his wrist. Grian yelps as he's pulled right into Scar's lap, arms slinging around his waist. He steadies himself by gripping Scar's shoulders, finding the love of his life grinning at him.

"You should know I always want to cuddle with you." Scar shoots him a cheeky little wink, making Grian roll his eyes, a small smile upon his lips. "You just fit in my arms so perfectly!"

"Maybe that's just because you're a giant," Grian huffs, getting settled in Scar's hold. He moves to lay his head on Scar's shoulder, tucking it within the crook of his neck. "You're like one big teddy bear."

Scar squeezes him lightly, one of his hands moving to rest against the small of his back, right in between his feathers. The contact leaves Grian melting right into him with a content noise. "Am I a cute teddy bear?"

Grian snorts at him.

"It's the most important question I've ever asked you next to proposing, Grian!" Scar gasps in return, a serious look in his eyes. His green eyes sparkle with mirth, and pressed against him like this, Grian can feel the way his chest rumbles with hidden laughter. "I have to know if I'm a cute teddy bear!"

"Yes Scar," Grian sighs fondly, pulling back to hold the man's face in his hands, "you're a very cute teddy bear." He accentuates his response with a kiss to Scar's nose, "Although Jellie is cuter."

Scar makes some kind of ecstatic noise, pulling Grian down into bed as he rolls onto his side. Grian squawks at the sudden action, just narrowly avoiding his wings getting squished. "But of course! No one is cuter than Jellie. You come in a close second place though."

If it were anyone but Jellie, Grian would have complained.

Instead, he snuggles in close to Scar, wrapping a wing around him as they fall into a comfortable silence. Scar's arms are secure around him, and Grian thinks he'd be fine with laying here all day, wrapped in his husband's arms.

"Remember Scar, only for a few hours."

"Right, right! Only a few hours. Or until this cuddle curse goes away!"

(They go well over 'a few hours' together. Grian's communicator pings a few times, but it sounds almost silent over the pair's easy breaths as they sleep.)

#mochi speaks #mochi writes #scarian #hermitshipping #secret husbands au #ask game #I needed domestic silly married scarian #I need to write them being married more often

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mrs-elsie-barnes · 1 year ago

Text

Happy Now? | Captain Rogers & Agent Brat AU | Steve Rogers x Reader | Drabble - 500words

If Steve thinks he's getting away with giving you a shitty mission he has another thing coming…

Warnings: Bratty reader & Brat Tamer Steve, implied previous sexual content, kissing

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist | Captain Rogers & Agent Brat AU | Steve Rogers

You followed Steve out of the briefing room, taking an extra half step for each of his long strides.

“Get back here!” You shouted, ignoring the ringing echo of your voice in the wide metal atrium of the Avengers tower.

“Agent, please take your mission pack and study it quietly.” He tossed a quick glance over his shoulder and you caught a glimpse of his newly bearded cheeks, stubble that had grown out during your last mission together and the following two weeks stuck in a safe house in the Alps.

“Steven Grant Rogers, I’m talking to you.” You grabbed a pen from another passing agent and chucked it as hard as you could at his retreating back, internally screaming when it merely bounced off of his shield.

From the incline of his head you were almost 100% sure he was laughing at you.

Picking up your pace you followed him away from the meeting rooms and across the building to the offices, chasing after him as he strode past your colleagues, touching his fingers to his forehead in a casual salute.

You caught up to him outside of the lifts, watching him bounce on his toes slightly as he whistled to himself.

“Steve!” You muscled past the other waiting agents to stand directly in front of him, crossing your arms and glaring up at him in frustration.

“Oh, hello Agent.” He smiled, “lovely to see you here too, going up?”

The doors pinged behind you and Steve moved you backwards into the waiting lift.

“This one’s full.” He said, firmly, blocking anyone else from entering, his smile morphed from his PR friendly pose to the hungry grin you were used to. He said nothing, simply watched you as you paced back and forth in front of the rapidly changing view as the lift shot up to the living quarters.

“Steve, you can’t bench me, you know I’m a good agent, I don’t understand it, we just got back from another mission. Do you think because we’re sleeping together I can’t perform as well as other agents? Or as well as I did before?” You ranted, waving your hands and barely stopping to look at him until he blocked your path.

“It’s hot when you talk back.” He whispered, running his thumb over your bottom lip.

“Rogers you had better not be trying something right now.” You shoved at him, but he caught your hands and pulled you back, crushing his lips to yours. His kiss was fierce, burning as his beard rubbed against the soft skin of your cheeks, a reminder of how much closer you’d been before returning to the bustle of the tower. Instinctively you wrapped your arms around his neck before remembering your ire and pushing him away again.

His smile was still plastered to his face, only slightly ruffled by your rejection.

“Seriously, you can’t bench me and then -”

“I told you to check your mission pack.”

“Steve, stop being an asshole.”

“Honey, stop being a brat”

He pulled the black folder from your hands and flipped past the first few pages to the confidential file fitted snugly between the usual boring beige pages of desk work that he’d handed out earlier.

“Happy now?”

You nodded, jumping back into his arms and placing kisses over his bearded cheeks

#Steve Rogers #Captain America #Steve Rogers x Reader #Steve Rogers/Reader #Steve Rogers x You #Steve Rogers/You #steve rogers fanfiction #Steve Rogers fanfic

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defectivevillain · 10 months ago

Text

like a villain

pairing: Shota Aizawa/Reader (can be platonic or romantic)

reader's race & gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors used.

summary: For a few seconds, Shota and you stare at one another. From strangers to friends to partners to ‘enemies’… the two of you have a long history. At UA, you frequently talked about where you may end up after school. But neither of you pictured yourselves here, standing at opposite sides of a rapidly growing chasm. There’s a war on the horizon, and those who don’t take a firm side will be left to the dust and rubble.

word count: 2.1k | ao3 version

author's notes: The reader and Aizawa decided to become heroes after graduating from U.A. But somewhere along the way, the reader grew too powerful: and other heroes started to fear them. Before long, the reader was declared an enemy. Years later, the reader—fully embracing their prescribed villainy—runs into Eraserhead, the vigilante.

The reader’s villain name is Havoc; their Quirk is something to do with blood. I didn’t feel like fleshing the Quirk out too much, I’m not going to lie, so imagine that however you’d like.

I can't lie, I wrote this with the intention of focusing on Aizawa/Reader. But it morphed into a character study/commentary on heroes and villains, with some allusions to their past relationship. There is no explicit romance, ultimately. Also, this is not a happy story! You have been warned :3

The title of this fic is from Like A Villain by Bad Omens. I never said I was good at titles, lol.

Warnings: canon-typical violence, societal inequities, prejudice

You’re standing in the shadows of an abandoned alley, your nose scrunching in distaste as the pervasive scent of garbage and rot hits your nostrils. You make your way down the cracked pavement quickly, turning a corner and escaping the foul scent. Your every sense is waiting for what you know will soon come. Each minute sound is enough to make you survey your surroundings warily; each blur out of the corner of your eye makes you turn your head.

This will likely be the last time you meet with Shota Aizawa under amicable circumstances. And things have certainly taken an unpredictable turn since your prior encounter, all those years ago. After all, Shota and you promised to do everything together. You had plans to graduate from UA at the top of your class and build enough experience to form your own hero agency. And while you both graduated with top marks, your other goals never came to fruition. Despite the seemingly countless nights spent staring up at the stars and thinking about your shared future, your paths diverged. After that fateful day—the one you promised yourself never to think about ever again—Aizawa became a vigilante. You bite your lip as you’re forced to process everything that occurred between you—and the subsequent years of radio silence that dominated what used to be an unbreakable friendship.

You’re slightly doubtful that he will even show up tonight. It would be frighteningly easy. The thought distresses and comforts you in equal measure. Before you can fall down that slippery slope of logic, you’re drawn out of your thoughts by a familiar voice. “Havoc.”

You turn around, a maelstrom of emotions hitting you all at once as you lock eyes with the vigilante you’ve been waiting for. Eraserhead stands at the mouth of the alleyway, every part of his posture speaking to his wariness and apprehension. You feel a sardonic smile rising on your lips at the thought of your childhood friend regarding you in the same way an enemy would.

“Come on, Shota,” you say, making a show of removing your hands from your pockets and gesturing to the dirtied brick walls around you. “It’s just us out here. You don’t have to pretend.” You implore him.

Shota is silent. For several moments, he stands entirely frozen and unmoving. You’re mostly amused by the show he’s putting on; yet a small, traitorous part of you is sickened by the thought that the one person who knew you better than anyone is regarding you with such discomfort. You silence those whispers in the back of your mind and watch as he slowly takes a few steps towards you—closer but still a ‘safe’ distance from you. “You betrayed me.” Shota says, a note of something unreadable and uncharacteristic in his voice. You raise a brow, your throat burning at the accusation.

“I betrayed you?” You hum, maintaining a cool aura. Your blood is thrumming beneath your skin, an ever-present reminder of your Quirk and the pathetic justification for how you were treated all those years ago. After all, you were a hero, once upon a time. And your departure from that work was not your choice. “The hero commission wanted me in a cell in Tartarus.” You remind him pointedly. The thought makes you grip your upper arm tightly, desperate for an anchor to reality. Unsettlingly realistic images invade your thoughts, sending you to rot in a blinding white cell surrounded by some of Japan’s most dangerous villains.

“It was for your own good,” Shota recites. You regard him for a long moment, surprised that he still believes the lie he was spoon-fed. After all, Shota was there for you throughout your training at UA: he knew how well you were able to control your Quirk. The hero commission was not trying to protect you—they were trying to contain you.

“You would have me locked away for the rest of my life,” you say hollowly. “I was nothing more than an experiment, a liability.”

He shakes his head, a minute slip in composure hinting at his frustration. It’s gone in a flash. “We used to have the same dream.” To save those who can’t save themselves, you recall. To protect those in danger. “This isn’t the way to achieve it,” Shota gestures towards you.

“And heroism is?” You scoff wryly, unable to resist a broken laugh at the irony. “Come on, Shota. You’re barely a hero yourself.” The air falls silent at the accusation.

“Right, because I’m too self-serving.” Shota then recalls, with the practiced ease of someone who has constantly been questioned and unfairly scrutinized. You’re not surprised by the admission, but you are disappointed.

“You know I don’t believe that,” you squint at him. Shota blinks for a second, seemingly surprised by your argument. “But everyone else does. I don’t understand why you let them treat you as some sort of monster.”

That remark hits home. You see him flinch. You’ve uttered nothing slanderous—it is all the horrible, uncompromising truth. Yet he refuses to acknowledge it. “You’re the monster.” Shota says. You notice that he’s been steadily breaking the distance between you. You take a few steps forward, until you’re only one step away from him. You’re close enough to see the emotions warring in his eyes, the tension pulling his shoulders tight, the helplessness clenching his fists at his sides.

“Oh, Shota,” you whisper, reaching out to trace your finger along his cheekbone. He shudders. “You don’t even believe that.” You hum, studying his expression. Indeed, the remark was deflective, rather than accusatory. You both know it. But you’re not the one denying it.

The vigilante grabs your wrist roughly, pushing it away from his face. You let your hand fall back to your side, but make no move to enforce the distance between the both of you. Shota doesn’t budge either; you can’t help but wonder what he’s trying to do. Maybe, just maybe, your words are getting to him.

Suddenly driven, you continue speaking. “You’re many things: a hero is not one of them.” You remark. Coming from you, that statement is a compliment; to him, it is a great offense. “You’re an outlier, an outcast. You don’t subscribe to the politics of it all. You think that refusing to play will win you the game.”

There’s a constant, low hum from the cars driving past on nearby streets and the electricity powering the city’s brightness. The warmth is a contradiction, a façade that hides the griminess of the shadows threatening to weigh the city down. Beneath the starless sky, there are countless people suffering. Yet heroes are so quick to romanticize it—to look up at the sky as if existence is a gift. Perhaps to them, it is.

“But you won’t win,” you say with a sad smile. The night air seems to fall still around you, hanging in suspense as it awaits your words. “You can’t change the system by working within it and bending to its rules.”

Shota frowns. “Can’t I?” He argues. You squint and attempt to see things from his perspective. Sure, Eraserhead has made an impact. But one vigilante isn’t enough to change an entire society’s structure. Currently, Japan relies on Quirks to survive—it relies on heroes to serve as figureheads and villains to serve as enemies. Such a polarizing binary won’t bend to the whims of one single person, regardless of how determined that person may be.

Moreover, is his unrelenting vigilantism even sustainable? You both know it isn’t, even if Shota doesn’t wish to recognize it. You just shake your head, your chest heavy as you slowly start to come to terms with his stubbornness. It’s almost a lost cause. But something in you refuses to give up on him. It’s foolish, maybe. But you don’t want to see him break under the pressure. “They’re going to eat you alive, Shota,” you warn, “Bleed you dry, until there’s nothing left for you to give.” Your voice is deceptively calm.

“Poetic,” Shota remarks dryly. His voice is ever so slightly strained. If you didn’t have a long history with him, you wouldn’t have noticed. But you do notice, and the slight break of his voice only pushes you to continue.

“You know it to be true,” you assert. For a few seconds, the two of you stare at one another. From strangers to friends to partners to ‘enemies’… Shota and you have a long history. It’s ironic to think back to the conversations you had about life after school. Ultimately, neither of you pictured yourselves here: standing at opposite sides of a rapidly growing chasm. There’s a war on the horizon, and those who don’t take a firm side will be left to the dust and rubble.

You reflect on his words from a few moments ago. “I may be a monster.” You acquiesce after a few seconds. Shota’s brows drift up his forehead as he stares at you in poorly hidden surprise. You bite the inside of your cheek hard. “But at least I’m not lying to myself.”

Shota’s eyes flash a brutal crimson. For a moment, everything in you seems to fall still. The constant feeling of connection threading you together is fading. You stand there with your arms crossed over your chest, silently challenging him to do what he’s been told to do. Eventually, Shota sighs and deactivates his Quirk.

“Heroes only arrive after the damage has been done,” you murmur, trying to get through to him. “They don’t attempt to heal the society that has wronged many people—the society that has pushed them down and preyed on them until they have no other option but to resist. Heroes protest the existence of the same villains they create.”

Shota is quiet, but you can see the accusatory gleam in his eyes. You frown. “I don’t have a penchant for cruelty, Shota,” you maintain, sensing his argument even if he doesn’t utter it. “I only want justice.” The city bustles with life around you, yet in a nondescript alleyway, you are invisible to all. The heroes never venture this far south, and it doesn’t take long to realize why. The filthy walls, the discarded trash, and the disadvantaged people crowding the pavement are all a living contradiction to their comfort.

“But, maybe you’re right,” you admit. Shota’s eyes snap up to yours. A light breeze rustles your skin, blowing through Aizawa’s jet-black hair. Your hand twitches with restless energy. Your blood runs along your veins, crawling up your skin and threatening to burst. Even with your exceptional control over your Quirk, you feel its energy pushing back against you. “I have changed.” You admit.

Shota is silent. He has not spoken in several minutes. You can only hope he’s digesting everything you’ve said. You take a slow breath. “I grew up,” you state. Your next statement is spoken with an eerie tranquility. “You didn’t.” Indeed, past Shota’s lean stature and mature outlook, a naive hope for peace remains. The vigilante inhales sharply. The stiff air almost seems to ring in your ears and prickle along your skin.

You study him for a long moment, scrutinizing him. Shota looks exhausted—plagued by a fatigue that sleep can’t fix. He is often tired, but there’s an unfamiliar weariness clinging to his form. He isn’t tired from lack of sleep; he’s tired of fighting for a society that ostracizes him. He’s fighting a battle he was destined to lose. And even if he does manage to win, he will receive little to no gratitude. Shota is drowning in the expectations of others, forcing himself to fit into a black-and-white world. But he has always been overwhelmingly grey.

“When they push you past your breaking point, they will discard you and leave you to die,” you continue. Indeed, in a society filled with countless people with powerful Quirks, heroes are more than expendable. They are treated as tools and weapons. The moment they malfunction, misfire, or break… they’re scrapped. You stare at Shota, unable to stop yourself from noticing the signs of a hero who has overworked themself. Scars crawl across his face; his knuckles are bloodied; his eyes are shadowed by prominent dark circles. You swallow past the inexplicable urge to reach out to Shota, instead dragging your eyes to meet his gaze one last time. “And I’m afraid I won’t be there in time to pull you from the wreckage.”

Despite the unsettling quiet, there’s a buzzing feeling assaulting your ears and weighing your shoulders down. It feels remarkably similar to grief. Yes, you’re more than familiar with the feeling of horrid, inexplicable anticipation—death is always following on its heels. If Shota pushes himself too far, there will be nothing left to heal. You stare into Shota’s eyes and see nothing but his own demise reflected in them.

thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

general taglist: @its-ares @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @kingkoku @the-ultimate-librarian @gayaristocrat

friendly reminder that i don't give permission for my writing to be shared to other sites, stolen, copied, translated, or used in any way. thanks!

#defectivevillain #shota aizawa #eraserhead #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha x gn reader #gn reader #male reader #transmasc reader #nb reader #Shota Aizawa x reader #Aizawa x gn reader #aizawa x małe reader #etc etc

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swiiivet-screamathon · 2 months ago

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Pv sits on the fountain's coping, the lily he had been given before she departed in his hands. He sits up proper and looks back towards the fountain's central spout.

"I know this must mean incredibly little to you, but I cannot help myself but to ask, lest it weigh on my mind for any longer. How much of your tower was fabricated by you? Were even the plants and fauna your own creation?"

With a quiet glance he looks over his opposite shoulder, to see a newly arrived Smilk had floated in.

"I wouldn't exactly call those words synonyms in this context, I made it all yes, but they weren't all fabricated. Need plenty of methods in your arsenal to spread as much deceit and lies around so why not take advantage of all life?"

"... I'm not sure if I've got enough of an ability to deduce whether you made new life or if you're more adept at botany than I expected."

"It's one of the many things I miss from Beast-Yeast, t'oh, those precious things. One seed in this kingdom and surely it'd be on its knees as soon as it bloomed."

"With the benefit of being in a calmer era than back then I can recognize that they were quite pretty, if I were none the wiser I would've perhaps liked to have kept some."

"You like plants beyond those of your bestie?"

"Lilies are a favorite of mine indeed, but I've got more space in my heart than just one kind of flora, I've had a soft spot for primroses and orchids too. And I'm sure I could develop another for the kind you've made."

"What, you want some?"

"If the offers genuine I don't think I'd mind. Which one was your favorite?"

"...? Why would that matter? If you're so desperate to get your hands on one that you'd fly back to my remains then get one you care about."

"I suppose the answer is 'they're all your favorite' then?"

"... Whispering Lies, they could grow on anything, if given enough nutrients I'm sure it could take over the kingdom in days. The chants of lies were music to the ears."

"I'm not sure if I recall crossing paths with them, what'd they look like?"

"Lilac, I never quite settled on whether I liked the color or not compared to everything else, but their gnawing teeth made up for it significantly."

"What color were you debating between? Or did you just want any other color besides the one you chose?"

"Okay timeout buckoo; when did this turn into a quiz show? They're just some pesky flowers that are now an entire continent away, your questions should be less frivolous next time."

"I thought maybe you'd be able to make some more, but apologies if my assumption was incorrect."

"You know, perhaps I would be willing if it were a badge of allegiance to deceit, a constant reminder how you still accepted the mantle of Cookie of Deceit that you bear to this day."

"I don't believe I resigned the name back then, and if I were to be so bold I think I would say I'm well aware of my allegiance to deceit. ^^"

"Let's hope you didn't also steal that power from me too then, hm?"

Once he finished his sentence he taps the top of his wand to the lily that sat in Pv's palm, where a little droplet of white poured from the top and onto the petals causing it to rapidly morph, the five pointy petals squashing down into a pale purple squared shape, the pistils lightening into a shade of white and widening, transformed into a pair of teeth.

As it seemed to have finished its thing Pv carefully examines it, feeling the texture in his hand, grazing the teeth. Along with a giant grin across Smilk's face does he lift the flower up to his hear, seeing if he can hear some of those aforementioned chants. Doesn't seem to be doing much of anything though for the moment.

He drops his hands back into his lap and looks over to where Smilk just was, but it seems he had enough and left already.

He'll cherish it greatly, he gifted him a flower after all.

#waffled au #crk #cookie run kingdom #shadow milk cookie #pure vanilla cookie #tag for reach #shadownilla #shadowvanilla #puremilk #pureshadow #cmon i feel like i dont need to spell it out this is tumblr be gay /lh #“my allegience for deceit” isnt some “oh pv secretly evil!?!” smilk identifies under the moniker of deceit and #he wants to be friends w smilk so he considers himself an ally to him and thus deceit #cmon guys get w the program /lh

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the-kr8tor · 1 year ago

Note

I see that your requests are open👀

Can I get a fix of a modern Hobie taking us to a hello kitty cafe ORRR like my last ask hobie and reader being famous online and maybe they record abt them playing roblox together (horror games, da hood maybe fun games) and hobie gets in yet ANOTHER fight with someone cause they think reader and Hobie are edating

P.S It's 11pm and everyone is Asleep and now I'm scared cause I keep feeling like there's something watching me from the dark (that's edgy)

ANOTHER P.S hope u have a merry Christmas:3

-🧋

I understand, lovely because when u submitted this there's a loud scratching in my ceiling 😭 thank you for requesting! I chose the gaming one bc I couldn't resist a gamer Hobie 🥰 hope you had a very Merry Christmas! 🫶

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Gamer! Hobie and reader, FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

“Love, hide!” Hobie yells in his mic, mouse clicking rapidly as he panics to hide from the pixelated monster. He hears your screams bouncing around in his headphones.

“Where?! There's nothing here!” Your character frantically runs around as the monster is hot on your tail.

“You just passed it! Hold on!” Hobie exits his hiding place, intercepting the monster’s attention from you to him. “Hey, E.T. lookin' arse, over here!” the monster has now latched on to him, pulling aggro for you.

“Hobie, noooo!” You see Hobie's character get eaten in one bite. He groans at his death screen briefly before showing him your character watching in the background, emoting a crying face.

“Fuck you!” The monster turns around to chase you again. “Your sacrifice won't be in vain!” running, you play ring around the rosie with the monster, your screams of terror turning into laughter.

Hobie's spectating your POV, laughing loudly at your expense. He flicks his eyes to the second monitor to read the chat, his smiling morphing into annoyance.

“E-dating?! You think we're e-dating?! Chat, what the bloody hell?” Hobie moves so animatedly that his headset almost falls off.

He sees his chat go wild, their comments vary from ‘you've probably never seen her irl, bro’ to ‘They're definitely not! Have you seen them ogling each other through the camera?’

“Where's my fuckin' mod?! Ned ban their arse!” Hobie chuckles through his threat, clearly just joking. He still hears you laughing hysterically in his headphones, making him grin despite the bullying from his chat. Then he hears your character ‘oof’

“I died” you say dejectedly. “Fucker got me, looks like you sacrificed yourself for nothing, Hobie.”

“That's alright I forgive you because there's somethin' else that's more important.” He turns around in his chair, looking over his shoulder to look at the green cloth behind him. “Love, can you tell ‘em we're not e-dating and that we're literally in love”

Hobie opens his green screen curtain to reveal you sitting on your own desk, your back turned away from him. Your spare monitor shows his livestream, you quirk an eyebrow when you see yourself in his camera.

The chat goes completely wild, some spamming emojis, some are just straight up key smashing.

You look over your shoulder with a smile, waving at his camera. Swiveling your chair, you wheel towards Hobie's desk, laying your chin atop his shoulder. He holds your hand subtly under the desk, squeezing thrice.

“Is this enough proof?”

Everyone clipped the entire thing.

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anonymously-a-whore-blog · 3 months ago

Text

When Worlds Collides

Chapter 2 - Insanity

Previous 🤞🏻 Next 🤞🏻 WWC Masterlist 🤞🏻

Word Count 1293

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Need to breathe.

Need air.

Breathe y/n...breathe.

Gasping, you shoot your head up from the desk. Your eyes are wide, erratic, darting around the room as your mind struggles to catch up. Your chest rises and falls at an uneven pace, your lungs trying, and failing, to pull in enough air. The panic still clings to you, the weight of something wrong pressing against your ribs.

Then, hushed whispers filter through the haze. A blurred, empathetic face leans in closer.

"L/N? Are you alright?" You recognize the voice. Blinking rapidly, your vision sharpens—it's your form teacher.

Reality sinks in. Your brain sluggishly registers the truth.

You're in class. You're at your desk.

You didn't just die in a collision.

I'm fine.

"Sorry, I must have fallen asleep," you say with a sheepish smile, forcing your breathing to steady. The panic and fear gripping you moments ago quickly morph into pure embarrassment as you feel every pair of eyes in the room locked onto you. You don't blame them, you must look like a complete lunatic.

Luckily, the bell rings, saving you from further humiliation. You don't hesitate. The second it sounds, you bolt out of the room. As you rush down the hallway, you shake your head, trying to piece together what just happened. It had to be a dream... right?

But it felt too real.

Was it lucid dreaming?

You don't know.

Still lost in thought, you push open the bathroom door and step toward the sink. The cold water splashes against your face, shocking your system, grounding you. You force yourself to remember.

How did you even get to school today? What day is today?

You splash more water on your face and take a deep breath. Breathe.

1... 2... 3... 4...

Your breath evens out, and your lungs finally stop feeling like they're shrinking. You take a few more moments to steady yourself before heading out to the college courtyard.

Sliding onto your usual bench, you take in the familiar scene before you. A group of girls giggles amongst themselves on the opposite bench. Another group blasts music obnoxiously loud while a teacher yells at them to turn it down. Just beyond them, the football jocks tear across the massive field, practicing their drills. Everything is normal. Everything is in order.

You exhale, reaching for your books...

Then you feel it.

Heavy and unnatural. A presence that presses against your body, sinking into your skin like damp, clinging fog. It's like wading through murky water, knowing something unseen lurks just beneath the surface. A deep, gnawing unease twists in your stomach, a silent primal warning. Your instincts register the threat before your mind can.

It's the kind of fear that doesn't scream, it whispers, slow and insidious.

The air shifts. A biting chill spreads through your limbs, yet sweat beads on your brow from the sheer, crushing weight of something lingering nearby. Your gaze drifts toward the spot where the feeling is strongest. There you see it.

A grotesque creature hovers over a person, its slimy body glistening as thick droplets of viscous liquid drip from its wrinkled, almost translucent skin. But its mouth, God, its mouth, is massive, stretched impossibly wide, jagged teeth jutting out at odd angles, some broken, others needle-sharp, all slick with saliva that dribbles in thick strands. Its beady, pupil-less eyes roll aimlessly, its form twitching and convulsing mid-air as if struggling to hold itself together. Then, without warning, it lets out a gurgling, high-pitched screech that sends a chill up your spine.

Yet no one reacts.

The people around it go about their day, completely oblivious, as if the disgusting, flying thing isn't practically mocking them with its existence.

You stand up abruptly.

Maybe you're still dreaming. Maybe you're still on the bus, and you're just drooling against the window, heading toward your shift. That's it. None of this is real. You squeeze your eyes shut and pinch yourself, hard.

When you open them, you're still here. Still staring at that thing.

You rack your brain, trying to remember something, anything, that could help. Lucid dreaming. You think you read somewhere that if you're aware you're in a dream, you can summon a door to escape back to reality.

It's worth a shot.

You focus with everything you have, willing a door, any door, to appear. You picture it in your mind, visualize the handle, the frame, the feeling of pushing it open...

Nothing. Not even a flicker.

You let out a frustrated sigh. You run your hands across your face, trying to ground yourself. If this isn't real, if this is just a dream, then technically, that thing can't hurt you.

So you walk. Not confidently. Fear still grips you, sinking its claws into your chest, but you move forward anyway. As you approach, the creature snaps its disgusting head toward you and lets out another distorted, ear-piercing screech.

"God, I feel like shit," the girl beneath it groans, rubbing her temples. "I thought I might be sick, but the doctors say I'm completely fine."

"Could be stress," her friend replies casually, as if a nightmarish, drooling thing isn't hovering inches above them.

You halt right in front of the group. The girls notice you now, their gazes shifting with mild confusion. But the creature? It doesn't look happy to see you. Suddenly it lunges, its jagged teeth barking, its slimy body jerking toward you with unnatural speed. You scream, instinct taking over as you throw your arms up to shield your face. Even if this is a dream, the sheer terror you feel is real. Your breath shudders, panic surging through you like wildfire, and before you know it, tears are streaming down your face.

"Please." The word spills from your lips in a broken whisper, a desperate plea to wake up, to break free from this god-awful nightmare.

And then...

You feel it.

Something deep within you cracks wide open, and a surge of overwhelming power floods your body. Your muscles tense as a sudden wave of heat rushes through your veins, burning yet impossibly cold at the same time, like a live wire sparking beneath your skin. Your limbs feel both weightless and unbearably heavy, as though gravity itself is shifting, struggling to contain the raw energy now pouring out of you.

The air trembles. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears. And for the first time, something inside you wakes up.

Your body unravels through reality, like threads of yarn woven through the very air itself. The strands glide effortlessly toward the creature, winding around it with precision. It struggles, but the threads tighten, locking it in place. Its movements freeze, and in a final, futile screech, it dissolves into nothingness. The sound fades, replaced by the eerie hum of confused whispers rippling through the group of girls.

You force yourself to look up. The creature is gone. Vanished. It's as if it never existed, swallowed by the very fabric of reality itself.

Heat rushes to your face, and you suddenly become hyper-aware of the girls standing before you. Their wide eyes stare at you with fear and disbelief. The whispers grow louder, though you can't make out the words. They don't matter. Humiliation floods you. You feel their gazes like a weight on your chest. Without thinking, you turn on your heel and flee, the echo of their stunned silence following you like a shadow.

You are going fucking insane.

The only thought screaming in your head is get home. You've caused enough of a scene today; if you stay any longer, embarrassment alone will be the death of you. Your mind is so tangled in the mortification of it all that you don't even realize you're not paying attention to where you're going...

Until you slam straight into something solid. The impact knocks you flat onto your back, pain blooming in your skull as you hit the pavement.

"Oh no! I'm so sorry!" A boy's voice rushes out, genuinely apologetic.

Dazed, you blink your eyes open.

What the fuck.

YUJI ITADORI?!

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MasterList Wattpad Ao3

#fanfic #18 + only #jujutsu kaisen #age up #gojo satoru #choso kamo #megumi fushiguro #yuji itadori #yuji x reader #megumi x reader #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento #isekai #inumaki toge #nobara kugisaki #maki zenin #sukuna

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baldurs-gape · 11 months ago

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Beware of the Pointy Bits

Somehow Gale had always thought that the most difficult part of dating a vampire would be avoiding the fangs. Loathe as he was to admit it, he was wrong. Kissing Astarion was easy, the other had had 200 years of perfecting how to kiss without revealing his fangs so it wasn't an issue. Not once did Gale nick his tongue or lips on them which was only a slight shame as there was something quite erotic about the idea. Then again his blood was rather potently vile so it was perhaps for the best.

Armour was one thing to get caught on. Weapons was not one Gale was a fan of. Nothing was worse than getting back to somewhere (mostly/kind of/somewhat) private only to have to start fiddling with straps and buckles. And gods forbid a metal pauldron was thrown to the ground in enthusiasm rather than delicately placed with reverence. Horny and eager did not make for a good combination for such moments. Astarion had actually bitched and moaned the one time Gale had discarded the chest piece of his armour and it got a scratch.

Then there was the issue of the helmet and Astarion's ears. Whoever came up with the design was obviously not very caring of pointy ears. Gale cursed them out when he'd tried to tug it off Astarion, only to elicit a yowl of pain rather than a purr of happiness. Rather than spend the time getting off, Gale had to sit with Astarion in his lap and rub his poor ears better. Elves and their sesitive ears, it was just not fair.

Finally though, sword, bow, arrows and armour (including helmet) came off and Gale thought maybe fortune would turn in his favour. Kissing Astarion, he pressed close against him only to jerk away.

"Ow." He rubbed just below his rib where something had poked him sharp. Looking a little sheepish, Astarion reached under his shirt and pulled a dagger out and Gale squeezed his eyes shut. "Why? You couldn't get that out from under your armour even if you needed it."

"If I get caught and taken prisoner they'll take my weapons and armour. But they'll never find all my weapons."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Gale tried to will himself into the present moment. There was flirting with danger and there was bedding a walking armoury.

"Fine. Right. Could you please take all weapons and clothes off? The only thing I was hoping to get impaled on was your cock." But the mood was rather rapidly going.

Leering, Astarion reached down for his boot. Out came a dagger from the outside of his calf. An arrow from the inside. And the same on the other foot. His sock garters might as well have been called throwing knife stores with an alternate function to hold stockings up. On one level it was impressive. On another it was excessive.

"Excellent. Done?"

Astarion held a hand up to halt him moving closer. While his bracers had held a couple of daggers, under his sleeve were scalpels tied to his lower arms. Under his shirt, strapped to his back was a shortsword. After that Gale stopped paying much attention. What was more of note to his brain was the growing pile of weapons next to Astarion. Aside from the usual sharp and pointy there was now also a whip, a couple of bombs, a syringe, a couple of throwing stars. Finally Astarion stood naked before him, arms out to the side.

"Done!" His smile morphed into a frown. "Hang on!" Reaching into the curls of his hair, a coil of garotting wire joined the pile as well as a couple of lockpicking tools and a razorblade. "Now I'm done."

Somehow, Gale wasn't quite sure when, he had gone from post-battle "oh shit we're alive" sex desires to "you are so competent that my brain is leaking from my ears with how much I want you to put that competency to use on me". Thankfully, Astarion didn't much care which kind of horny he was, all that mattered was they had a good time.

#bloodweave #gale/astarion #astarion x gale #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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designsdefiance · 23 days ago

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junelezen day 7: death

"It was a noble death-" "It was a senseless death, Arlont! That's all any of this is! Senseless!" "Luxiene..." "How- how can you still be so blind? Our son is dead and you're still trying to pretend there's a point to any of this.

putting a lil lore exposition under the cut to avoid this getting too lengthy. holding up my messy ishgardian family like simba.

arlont, elsinne's father, is technically from the brume, though his mother was taken in as a servant by house fortemps before he was born. he's close in age to edmont, and they were firm friends from a young age as a result of this despite their vastly different stations. as he grew older, arlont trained as a knight, specifically serving house fortemps, and fought his way into earning some sort of place in ishgardian society. and his friendship with edmont morphed into more of a crush, as he started to realise he wasn't exactly heterosexual.

the idea of admitting to those feelings, though? unthinkable. despite their close friendship, he and edmont were still worlds apart, and arlont's place in ishgard's high society tenuous at best. so he buried his feelings, about both his so-called best friend and his sexuality, deep in his psyche, and instead married a noble girl from a family with close ties to house fortemps, luxiene de visellier. he had a close friendship with her too, though his feelings were entirely platonic, and it was easy enough to pretend he loved her. he hoped, if he pretended hard enough, that he would come to truly love her.

for a while, he and luxiene managed to put forward an image of happiness. they had two children, josselin and elsinne, and things were good. still, the longer he played pretend at being a doting husband to luxiene, arlont could only think of edmont. attempting to repress his feelings only made them grow stronger and harder to ignore. luxiene, too, began to sense that something was not right. it was hard not to notice; arlont wasn't exactly a subtle man. he wore his heart on his sleeve, and it was obvious to luxiene that his heart belonged to edmont, not her.

there was never a physical affair. edmont seemed to be the only person fooled by arlont's facade, and arlont intended to carry his secret to his grave. still, it was enough to stoke the flames of jealousy in luxiene's heart. and that jealousy rapidly morphed into hatred- first for edmont, then for ishgard as a whole, for the society that forced arlont to hide who he truly was, that made him lie to her, use her as a cover story under the pretense of loving her. she began to sympathise with the heretics, opening her eyes to what- from her scorned perspective- the dragonsong war truly was. their words were a salve to her aching wounds. she knew what walking this path meant- but if arlont could keep secrets, so could she. still, the tension was obvious, a festering rot in the foundations of the life they'd built.

things came to a head when elsinne was 15, and josselin 17. josselin had always idolised his father, always longed to fight in the war at his side. arlont had been eager to grant his son's wishes, and he'd proven a talented fighter, quickly surpassing most of his peers. he was already accompanying arlont on patrols and other duties, dressed in the same house fortemps colours luxiene had come to loathe.

there wasn't supposed to be a dragon that day.

it was a simple task- escort a trader from tailfeather to the city proper. josselin, ever eager to please, and perhaps a little arrogant, had insisted he could do it alone. this was, of course, ridiculous, but arlont trusted his son enough that he didn't need to accompany him. josselin left ishgard with two other novices.

hours later, only one of the boys returned, wide eyed and babbling something about a dragon attack.

they never found the bodies, but the image of it alone was enough to drive luxiene to madness. her son, in house fortemps colours, bleeding out to wounds left by dravanian talons in another senseless conflict. the fact that the dravanians started this conflict was lost on her. she was too far gone to see reason, too willing to blame ishgard for anything and everything, too distraught at the loss of her son to be told otherwise. a few weeks later, she would disappear without a trace- though whispered rumour spoke of her heresy. arlont wasn't the only one who was bad at keeping secrets.

#junelezen 2025 #ffxiv #elezen #wol #ffxiv oc #gpose #oc: elsinne #oc: arlont #oc: luxiene #im. wraghhhh.#insane in the head about my silly elf and her fucked up family #theyre all so tragic to me #arlont and his doomed yaoi #luxiene who only ever wanted her husband to love her #josselin dying far far too young #elsinne being left with the shattered remains of what was once a loving family #i love them its why i put them in the torture machine 24/7 #mine: gpose #mine: lore

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oliviaglumac · 5 months ago

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Lady’s Baby

Pairing : Peter tork x fem!reader

Requested : no

Genre : comfort

Warnings : mentions of dying , weed

A/n : so I’m kinda using my first experience with weed for this story but yeah!!

The party at The Monkees’ pad was alive with music, laughter, and the kind of chaos that always erupted when the boys hosted something. People filled every corner of the house, dancing, drinking, and passing around who-knew-what. It was overwhelming but in a good way—at least at first.

You had never been one for weed. It wasn’t that you were against it, just that you had never really tried it before. But tonight, someone had brought a tray of brownies, and they looked harmless enough. Just brownies. Sweet, chocolatey, nothing intimidating about that.

So, you took one.

Then another, because the first one didn’t seem to be doing anything.

And that was your first mistake.

It hit slowly at first. A lightness in your limbs, a warmth in your chest. You giggled at nothing in particular, feeling good, feeling free. But then, things shifted. The room felt different, sounds became sharper and too distant at the same time. The voices around you warped, stretching and bending in ways that didn’t make sense.

Your heart. It was beating too fast. Way too fast.

Something was wrong.

You tried to find Peter, your anchor in this sea of unfamiliar sensations, but he had been caught up in conversation with Micky. When had he left your side? When had the room started spinning?

The world tilted violently, and a wave of cold panic crashed over you. Your limbs felt strange, heavy yet weightless at the same time, and your breathing—God, why couldn’t you breathe right? Were your lungs even working?

You needed to get out of here. Now.

Pushing through the crowd, you stumbled down the hallway, desperate for an escape. Your vision swam, everything feeling unreal, like you weren’t even in your own body anymore. The laughter from the party distorted, morphing into something sinister, something suffocating.

The walls felt too close. The air too thick.

By the time you reached one of the bedrooms, your legs gave out beneath you, and you collapsed onto the floor, curling into yourself. Your entire body trembled, your skin ice-cold, but your head felt like it was on fire. Your teeth chattered as you clutched at your chest, trying to ground yourself, trying to breathe.

You were dying.

You had to be dying.

Tears pricked at your eyes, panic gripping you in its relentless hold. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t slow your racing heart. Your hands shook uncontrollably, and an overwhelming sense of doom settled into your bones.

Then—

“Babe?”

Peter’s voice.

You barely registered the sound of the door clicking shut, the noise of the party dulling as he stepped inside. You wanted to answer him, to call out for help, but all that came out was a weak, gasping whimper.

“Hey, hey,” Peter was kneeling in front of you in an instant, his hands warm and gentle as they cupped your face, tilting your head so you had no choice but to look at him. “What’s wrong, honey? What happened?”

You tried to speak, but your throat felt too tight. Your heart pounded so violently it hurt. Your breath was too shallow, too fast—no matter how much air you tried to take in, it was never enough.

“I—I think I’m dying,” you choked out, voice barely above a whisper. “Peter, I—I can’t—”

His brow furrowed in concern, his gaze flicking over you before realization dawned. His eyes softened, and he brushed his thumb against your cheek.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured. “You had some of the brownies, didn’t you?”

A weak, jerky nod. “Too much—I think—” Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your breath ragged and uneven. “Peter, I don’t feel right. I can’t—”

“Shh, shh,” he hushed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against his chest. “You’re okay, baby. I promise. You’re just too high, that’s all. It’s gonna pass.”

But it didn’t feel like it was going to pass. It felt like you were spiraling deeper into something terrifying, something uncontrollable. Your whole body wouldn’t stop shaking, and despite how feverish your skin felt, you were so, so cold.

Peter seemed to notice. He shifted, grabbing the blanket from the bed and wrapping it tightly around you, tucking you further into his embrace. “Here, let me warm you up,” he said softly, rubbing slow, soothing circles against your back. “I got you, sweetheart. Just breathe with me, okay?”

You buried your face against his chest, trying to match your breathing to his, but every inhale felt too shallow, too fast. “I—can’t—I feel—”

“I know, baby, I know,” Peter whispered, rocking you gently. “It’s just your brain playing tricks on you. I swear, you’re not dying. You’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The way his arms tightened around you, the unwavering steadiness in his voice—it should have helped, but the fear was still there, gripping you with cold, ruthless fingers.

“Peter, please,” you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I’m so scared.”

His heart clenched at the sheer terror in your voice. He tilted your chin up so you could see his face, his brown eyes filled with nothing but love and concern. “I know, baby,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m right here. Just hold onto me, okay?”

Your fingers clutched desperately at his shirt, needing something solid, something real. The world still felt wrong, distorted, but Peter—Peter was real.

He gently rocked you, whispering sweet reassurances against your hair. “It’s gonna pass soon, honey. I know it feels scary, but I promise, you’re not alone. I’m not going anywhere.”

Minutes stretched on like hours, your body still trembling, but Peter never let go. He kept his arms wrapped around you, kept pressing gentle kisses to your temple, kept rubbing warmth back into your freezing skin.

And slowly, ever so slowly, the panic began to loosen its grip. The shakes lessened, your breathing, though still uneven, started to settle. The worst of the fear still lingered, but Peter was there, holding you together when you felt like you were falling apart.

“I’m so embarrassed,” you mumbled after what felt like an eternity, your voice hoarse from crying.

Peter pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, shaking his head. “Don’t be, sweetheart. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” His fingers traced soothing patterns on your back. “You had too much, and it scared you. That’s okay. I’d be scared too.”

You sniffled, pressing yourself closer to him. “You’re not mad?”

He let out a soft chuckle, tightening his hold. “Mad? Baby, no. Just wish I’d been with you sooner so you didn’t have to go through this alone.”

A shaky breath left your lips, your fingers still gripping his shirt like a lifeline. “Thank you for finding me.”

Peter kissed the top of your head, his voice nothing but pure, unwavering love. “Always, honey. I’ll always find you.”

And as the worst of the high continued to fade, you let yourself believe him.

#the monkees #peter tork x reader #peter tork #mike nesmith x reader #mike nesmith #micky dolenz x reader #micky dolenz #davy jones x reader #davy jones #the monkees imagine

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dragonsarecool · 5 months ago

Text

Febwhump Day 4 - Body Horror

A/N: What if a side effect of the Lethean's attack was rapid aging? An alternate version of 'Distant Voices'.

The sound of clinking glass greeted Julian as he stepped into an infirmary shrouded in darkness. For a split second he wondered if the Cardassian vole infestation had returned, only for his genetically-enhanced retinas to pick up a humanoid shape rummaging through his medication cabinets.

Maybe it's time I finally got Odo to install alarms on those things. "Lights."

Momentarily blinded, Julian blinked furiously until his vision finally recognised the intruder. It was the Lethean that Qu ark had introduced earlier, and he was currently clutching onto a sachet of biomemetic gel, a sinister look brewing on his face.

"What do you think you're doing?! I already told you, it's not for sale!" Julian snapped. He tapped his com badge in irritation. "Bashir to-"

A sudden burst of electricity slammed into his body, cutting him off as he began seizing uncontrollably. He could barely make out the Lethean through his hazy vision, who took the opportunity to make a break for the promenade with his stolen goods.

His body slammed into the floor of the infirmary, panting heavily as his muscles continued twitching involuntarily.

Well done, Julian. Maybe that wasn't such a bright idea after all.

A new sensation in his fingers caught his attention. Trying to ignore the painful spasms running down his arms, he raised one hand to inspect it further, only to find that his fingernails were growing right before his eyes. "What the hell?!"

He extended his arm to tap his combadge again, only for a sudden cry to tear away from his throat. Collapsing onto his side, he let out another scream as he felt his collarbone shatter under the impact, the splinters of bone seemingly disintegrating within seconds . Forcing his eyes open, he watched in horror as the skin on his hands began to wither away. Sunspots formed, wrinkles appeared and his fingers curled up with each passing second, his joints and tendons howling as they were quickly overwhelmed by rapidly-growing arthritis.

Before he had a chance to fully process what was happening to him, Julian found his body seizing once more. He rolled onto his back as he was overwhelmed by all-consuming pain, spreading like fire across each and every nerve. One by one the teeth in his mouth began to crumble, the remains mixing with his saliva as they were ejected from their roots.

He heard his scream becoming hoarse as his vocal cords decayed and withered, the sharpness in his throat increasing as though each individual cord was snapping.

He vaguely registered the infirmary doors opening before Jabara's face filled his deteriorating field of view, the cataracts growing in his eyes rapidly replacing parts of his vision with grey spots.

"Doctor!" Jabara's voice was firm, but with a slight edge of worry. "Doctor, what happened?!"

The skin around his mouth had become leathery and stretched, with thickened blood trying to drip from the new tears around his lips. Trying to force his lips and jaw muscles to cooperate to form a word, let alone a whole sentence, seemed impossible in that moment.

I have to try…It might be my only chance of surviving this…

"The…Lethean…" Julian's face morphed into an expression of horror as he heard the hoarse whisper that was his voice. Each breath was causing him pain, his lungs and alveoli practically screaming with each inhalation.

A loud gurgle escaped his throat. He tried to take a breath, only for his chest to seize up as he realised his lungs had begun to fill with fluid. The roar of blood fighting to circulate around his body was quickly dominating other sounds trying to enter his ears, and he realised that his hearing must be dying off.

The last of his vision faded into darkness, and he wondered if his eyeballs were melting. That would explain the stabbing sensation in his head.

Or maybe my brain is disintegrating…

What an undignified way to go…

****

"So then, how exactly did they manage to reverse this 'transformation' of yours?" Garak asked.

Julian finished his mouthful of Tarkelian tea and gave a quiet sigh. "It took a considerable amount of time. There was nothing in the literature about this sort of effect occurring with previous Lethean attacks, and they couldn't undo the damage that had occurred within my DNA. The only other option was to use a previous sample from the transporters and rematerialised me using that pattern to eliminate the damaged DNA sequences."

Garak's eyes were wide. He cocked an eyebrow with concern. "That sounds incredibly risky. What if it wasn't successful?"

"Then I wouldn't be sitting here and enjoying my tea. Lethean attacks are almost always fatal, and never usually cause physical side effects," Julian answered bluntly. "To be fair, Miles told me this morning that they had to use that technique once on the Enterprise, so I'd be interested in studying it further."

"And so you should! You and your staff may have discovered a new anti-aging treatment, doctor. That is certainly an impressive accomplishment."

Julian shook his head. "I can't take the credit, Garak. They barely got me into a stasis unit before I went past the point of no return. One minute I'm on the floor watching my teeth fall out, and the next I wake up as my normal self."

The severity of the situation finally dawned on Garak. He set down his rokassa juice and folded his hands together. "So you're telling me," He said quietly, "that if not for your staff's quick intervention, you would've continued aging?"

"That's correct." Julian took a bite of his bread roll, allowing Garak some time to gather his thoughts.

"That sounds like a rather uncomfortable experience, doctor."

"Uncomfortable barely describes it, Garak," Julian couldn't help but laugh. "But I tell you what…I'm now very glad that I am only thirty."

Garak smiled warmly. "As am I, doctor. After all, we still have many more novels left to discuss, and I doubt the Constable or Quark would be interested in hearing about Cardassian societal norms."

#star trek #star trek ds9 #fanfiction #whump #star trek deep space nine #star trek deep space 9 #febwhump #febwhump25 #febwhump2025 #febwhumpday4

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fluffanonn · 2 months ago

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Rebuilding what has been Lost chapter 2

Characters : Luke and Hermes

Author's note: This chapter was very angsty but I changed my outline so I'll make this fic fluffy, and write an alternative ending in another installment!

.......

Since Luke came to live with Hermes again, his dreams haven't been peaceful. As a demigod that was a normal occurence, and Luke had experienced Kronos taunting him in his sleep before, but these were different.

Most of the time, he dreamt of two very specific scenarios, with the exceptional good restful dream he might get once

He would be walking towards his childhood home, back where he had left his mom all these years ago. He passed through the front yard, pushing away the wind chimes and opening the turquoise door. He opened the door gently so as not to startle her. The entire house smelled like burnt cookies. He walked silently towards the back of the house where the kitchen was located and finally found her.

“Mom?” He asked as the grey-haired woman had her back turned to him.

She was making the same chocolate chip cookies he remembers from his childhood. Over and over again until the entire counter was filled with them in boxes and tupperwares. Luke turned around and saw that she had already set the kitchen table with kool aid, just like last time.

The woman kept adding cookies to her baking sheet, talking to herself in an intelligible manner but he did catch some things. “Luke, will come home…eat cookies…Hermes…said Luke’s dead….” she mumbles under her breath as she puts the freshly baked batch of cookies on a plate.

Luke frowns at her words, he went to stand close to her and shook her arm gently. “Mom! I’m here! What are you talking about?”

May finally heard him somehow and slowly turned towards him. Luke gasped in terror at the sight of her. Her eyes were the same inhumane glowing green color he had known since he was little, but now her face seemed to have morphed into a skelletic shape.

”Tartarus…Must pay for what he’s done” she rolls the cookie dough between her thin pale hands. “Hermes said…Luke needs to repent….”

“Mom please, listen to me” he pleaded, taking one of her hands on his own. “I’m here, I’m safe now, the prophecy is no more.”

She looked up towards him this time and touched his scar gently with one finger, it felt cold to the touch and a reminder of what he had done.

“Your fate has been decided by the Gods, my child.” She pauses and smiles at him. “You will be sent to Tartarus.” Luke’s eyes widened.

“But-Dad said I would stay with him now and he even made a room for me.” He shook his head in denial.

The recent memories he had with his Dad played in his mind as he paced around the room looking for an exit out of this.

That can’t be true.

Hermes said he loved him, he made him dinner, and held him.

Or maybe he simply lied to me? Luke thought.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by his mom. “Your father awaits my boy.Your time has come.” She said, Looking like a complete skeleton now Luke couldn’t bear to see her like this and closed his eyes but rapidly opened them again when he felt her skeletal hand grab his wrist tightly.

He tried to push her away from him, but the grip was strong and so he found himself stuck.

“You’re not my Mom. I know this is all a dream, once I wake up you’ll be gone.” His voice sounded close to panic despite trying to hold it all together.

The figure pretending to be his mom smiled at him once again but her face faded as the scenery did, as well as his childhood memories.

Luke found himself in another location. The atmosphere is dark and the air is suffocating him because of the heat. He tries to take deep breaths but it takes a toll on his body. Sweat beads started to form around his forehead as he tried to muster the strength to look around him.

He was surrounded by darkness with the only light meaning from an enormous pit filming with orange and red embers. It was surrounded by very sharp and black stalagmite. It didn’t take Luke long to find out what this area was.

“No that can’t be-” He muttered under his breath.

He tried to walk towards the surrounding edge of the pit. Carefully, he approached and looked inside the pit. He couldn’t see much besides smoke, it seemed deep. Way too deep to make out exactly what was in there but he wasn’t willing to push his luck and find out anyways so he quickly retreated once the air became too hard to breath and he started coughing.

Luke sat down not too far away from one of the rocks near the abyss.

He closed his eyes and opened them again, trying to wake himself up.

Wake up, please wake up. He told himself.

But it didn’t work

He tried to hurt himself to create some sort of reaction but again, pinching himself, pulling his hair, once he opened his eyes again, he was still here.

Still in the Underworld, on the edge of Tartarus, just like his mom had said earlier.

So maybe this is the end for him? Everything else had also been a dream entirely, him and his Dad living happily together. When desperation started to settle in, Luke felt tears forming in his eyes, and started crying, with his head buried in his arms.

“The Fates have long awaited your presence, child of mine.” Luke’s head shot up quickly and tried to look for the voice. His eyes landed on a tall figure.

The boy scurried to his feet when he recognized him. “Dad!”

Hermes was a few meters away from him, in what he assumed was his godly form. He wasn’t wearing his typical tan hoodie and sweatpants. He was extremely tall compared to his human self, blond golden hair and dark eyes. He wore his full gear, wearing his winged sandals and helmet, caduceus in his left hand with the two hissing snakes moving around it.

Luke ran towards him, he felt like a small frightened child again seeking the comfort and protection of a parent. And once he was close enough to Hermes, he did something he wouldn’t have dared to before.

He hugged his Dad willingly. He wrapped his small arms around the God’s waist, clutching to the skirt of his chiton tightly but Hermes didn’t reciprocate the affectionate gesture like he would have in real life.

He stood tall and rigid. No warmth emanating from him.

Hermes’s eyes were harsh and unforgiving, and they didn’t look down at his terrified child.

The boy dared to look up when he felt how tense his father was and how he didn’t reciprocate the affectionate gesture like he would have done if they were back home.

Hermes looked down at the boy with contempt, forcing himself to allow him this moment before he did what he had been sent to do.

“Have you finished child? I have duties to attend, and messages to deliver.” He asks sharply, his grip on the caduceus intensified.

Luke’s gaze was met with the harsh reality that this was probably not just a dream anymore.

“Dad-” He starts, but once he saw the anger in God's eyes at being called like this he quickly changed.

“Lord Hermes… please, get me out of here.” The God rolls his eyes at such a request, he doesn’t have time for this.

Luke did not miss the slight grin that crossed his parent’s features as he addressed him in a formal way. But he now wished that he could go back to calling him Dad again.

“As I’ve so kindly explained earlier, child, I’m the Messenger of the Gods.” He said with a smooth yet harsh tone. “My purpose is not to comfort, but to guide you to your rightful place.”

He pauses, as he reaches for a parchment paper that had been hidden in his chiton, even though it has no pockets. “It is also my duty to guide unfortunate souls through the Underworld.”

Hermes unfolds the old parchment. “And you, my child have been sentenced to Tartarus.”

Luke’s heart shattered, he knew this was a possibility but he thought his dad would help him not be the one to send him down in the pit.

Hermes makes a show of reading over the parchment once more, but Luke isn’t sure if he’s actually reading it or pretending to do so.

"But since you were born out of my own ichor, it has been decided that I would be the one to send you.” He then folds the paper over itself and it disappears.

“Please Father, I’m so sorry for everything, I didn’t mean to betray anyone.” He’s begging now, on his knees as Hermes pulls him with him by the arm. Luke tries desperately to stay down and immobile but he is no match compared to a fully grown God.

“I did what was best for you and your mother Luke, and you made your choices. I taught you that Actions have consequences.”Hermes explained, his voice devoid of the warmth Luke had been getting used to by now.

“I cannot change the fates, not that I would want to anyways.” He adds before pulling the boy up and he starts to push him towards the pit. The last line hit Luke hard. It was a truth he had known long before he found his Dad again, but to hear it said without any ounce of emotion, really hurt his feelings.

Luke resisted as best as he could, he tried to keep his feet firmly planted into the floor, but it didn’t work. Hermes was too strong.

They approached the edge of the pit quickly.

Luke was now sobbing trying desperately to reason with his Dad.

“Please, I will plead allegiance to Olympus, I will stop trying to run away, I’m sorry for disrespecting you. I’ll do anything!”

Despite Hermes’s grip on the back of his shirt, Luke managed to change positions and was now holding onto his dad’s legs. Trying to hold onto the last ounce of family he had. “It’s too late for that Luke.” He finally said as he pulled him away from his legs with one harsh motion. His touch wasn’t gentle anymore.

He’s put in a standing position once more, his hands are held behind his back by his father like a criminal. Luke hears the snakes around the caduceus speaking together saying things as he keeps his gaze down.

“It’s too late, boy.” Starts Martha.

“You lost! The Fates won! They always win!” Taunts George.

“Traitor.”

“The Fates are like rats, too hard to kill. But delicious as a meal”

“George! Now is not the time to talk about dinner!” Martha snaps at him.

He stood behind his son a few meters away from the pit. The snakes on his caduceus hissed aggressively at the trembling boy.

Luke is shaking as he tries to brace himself for what is about to come. He closes his eyes one last time, trying to imagine happier times. But none of these imaginary scenarios can remove the fear he feels.

A single tear slips down onto his cheek as he is suddenly pushed into the endless abyss.

His dad’s laughter ringing in his ears as he fell into misery.

But as he makes his terrifying fall, he hears another voice, similar to the one he just heard now, but this voice is a lot kinder and it makes him feel safe despite the surrounding darkness.

His body jolts in his slumber as Hermes shakes him.

“Luke, wake up my love.” He hears his father say, but he doesn’t see Hermes anywhere in sight.

He pushed him over the edge, he can’t be here.

Or can he?

The voice is comforting and helps pull him away from Tartarus and its horrors and back into a state of reality.

He feels warm hands shaking him, reminding him that he’s not dead. Maybe this wasn’t real after all.

Consciousness slowly comes back to his physical body and he opens his eyes rapidly, meeting those of his dad. Hermes hasn’t released his hold on his child’s shoulders yet, but Luke is visibly shaken and confused by the ordeal he just went through.

His first instinct is to pull his frightened child into an embrace but Hermes doesn’t know if Luke would like that for now, so he refrains, but he tries to comfort his baby.

“I’m here, little one. It was just a bad dream.” he reassures, rubbing gentle thumbs on the teenager’s cheeks now. Luke looks up to him, but Hermes can tell that his son doesn’t trust him.

Finally he’s awake. It was just another stupid dream or was it?

Luke looks around, taking in his surroundings, he’s at home, not in Tartarus’s pit. Martha and George are here too, he can hear them hissing at each other in their little sandbox area.

His dad is right here. After what he saw in dream, he isn’t sure if he wants him to be here though.

“Get off me!” he cries, pushing his dad’s hands. Hermes withdraws his hands as Luke tries to breathe deeper, to calm himself down, but it comes out as shallow despite his best efforts.

He’s gasping for air but none of it enters his long. His vision blurs a bit as tears start to form.

What if all of this is another dream?

What if his dad has never cared for him but simply wanted to watch him suffer?

He tries to sit up in the bed, the blankets and bed sheet are a mess around him but a large hand gently stops him in his tracks.

“Take it easy, darling” Hermes gently orders.

Luke doesn’t seem to hear him though and he starts to struggle against the blankets wrapped around him. He wants them off him now.

But he has trouble detangling himself because his hands are shaking so badly. So he asks for help.

“Get them off me- I-I can’t.” He grabs the blue colored bed sheet and tries to remove it from where it is sitting on his thighs. Hermes is quick to free him from the blankets and sheets, he pushes them aside towards the end of the bed before returning to Luke’s side.

“They’re gone now, you are finally free, my little one. ” He says, looking down at his child. Free from the blankets yes, but not free from what Hermes desperately tries to shield his child away from. What Luke saw as blankets wrapped around him is actually his lifeline.

Luke looks up to him wearily, he doesn't pull away from the embrace around him, but he’s not sure what to believe anymore.

“Do you want to talk about it, little one?” Hermes asks but not pushing it. Rubbing Luke’s hair out of his forehead gently.

Luke shakes his head, but he does want to know where these dreams are coming from. Since he died, why would Kronos bother him once again? But this dream didn’t feel like Kronos' type of nightmares. This time, it felt different.

“You are safe with me. I won’t let anything take you away from me.” Hermes says as he rocks Luke like he did when the boy had been a small child.

Luke looks up to his dad wearily. “Why would you do this to me?”

Hermes closed his eyes for a moment, he knew this was going to happen at some point.

He can’t tell him that what he saw wasn’t Kronos’s doing, but His.

Before Luke has time to ask more questions, Hermes presses two fingers on his son’s forehead, and Luke falls asleep instantly. But this time, his dreams will be peaceful, he might even forget what he saw in the dream.

His father catches him when Hypnos takes over him, and he pulls Luke into his lap, cradling him. Hermes closes his eyes as he holds his child close to his chest, as close as he can physically do so.

He presses a few kisses to Luke’s forehead, and cheeks blessing his soul a little more each time.

Each kiss represents a blessing that Hermes bestowed upon him, one for a peaceful sleep, a promise to keep him safe from harm, and one in hopes of shielding his baby from the Fate that awaits him.

He smiles softly when he sees Luke curling closer to him in his sleep. The God rests his chin on his little one’s head, breathing in the scent of his child, warm and innocent, the same smell he held when he had been a little baby.

After death the soul regains its innocence as the memories of the past life start to fade. As the purification process occurs, one that cannot be stopped even by the Gods themselves.

“I’m so sorry my little one, please forgive me. I’m doing this because I love you.” His heart aches with the love he holds for his child.

Luke mumbles in his sleep but doesn’t speak as Hermes kisses the top of his head tenderly.

Hermes breathes softly, before he starts singing a lullaby to Luke, he starts in ancient greek. “I’ll be here when it is time. You won’t be alone I promise.”

He hates to see Luke like this, frightened because of the inevitable process. He prays that in the end, Luke will be able to have a second chance at life, with him.

For now, he rocks his child in the night, the future is uncertain, but Hermes has promised he’d be here for his son, even if he wasn’t able to be more present during his life.

He will guide his child towards a peaceful end, paying that the Fates will have mercy and finally allow them both to be free. Together.

#fluff and angst #my fics #pjo luke #pjo hermesLuke #Luke Castellan #Fluffanon writes

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