#the first time he saw someone die he was only three years old

[wendichester]

Saw this one tumblr post about a soulmate AU where people age until they reach 18 and then stop aging until they meet their soulmate so they can grow old together🥺

I wanted to ask how your take on this idea would be with your favorite spn character

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ til i saw you,

summary. you stop aging at 18, until you reunite with your happily ever after.

pairing. dean winchester x reader genre. fluff ; soulmate au

wordcount. 1080

notes / warnings. very brief mention of sex / this idea is honestly too cute!

You stop aging at eighteen.

Everyone does.

It’s the first thing they teach you in school, right after the alphabet. Right after how to count to ten.

"You will age until your eighteenth birthday," the teacher says, "and then you’ll stay that way until your soulmate touches you. That’s when time will start again. For both of you."

You remember wondering what that touch would feel like. Would it burn? Would it glow? Would the world shift on its axis?

But that was... a long time ago. And you're still here. Still eighteen. Still waiting. Twenty-seven birthdays later.

You wake up on the same mattress in the same little apartment you’ve been calling home for a decade now. Skin smooth, eyes clear, a body that never aches. On paper, you're one of the lucky ones. Immortality is soft on your bones. But it’s hard on your heart.

There’s only so long you can pretend you’re just a late bloomer. People stop asking after a while. They start to look. Whisper. Wonder. You lie. A lot. About your age, about where you’re from, about why you never seem to change.

And maybe the worst part—maybe the cruelest—is how easy it is to fall in love with the wrong people along the way. You’ve done it. Twice. Maybe three times, if you're being honest. But no matter how close they get, no matter how much you want it to happen, nothing changes.

No touch restarts your clock.

Until him.

It’s late when he walks into the gas station. Midnight and humming, the fluorescent lights above your head buzz like insects. You’re chewing gum and half-asleep behind the register when he strolls in, tall and broad and all leather jacket and swagger. He has a look in his eyes that says he’s seen too much and still hasn’t stopped looking.

You barely glance up when he drops a handful of items on the counter: beef jerky, a bottle of whisky, pie.

“Quiet night?” he says, voice deep and rasped, like he’s been singing with gravel in his throat.

You nod. Then look up.

And something... shifts.

It's not a sound, not a spark, not the glowing halo you used to imagine when you were little. It's a feeling. A pull. Your chest tightens like someone’s wrapping a thread around your ribs and tugging—just once. Gently. But enough to make your breath hitch.

He notices. Freezes.

The pie falls from his hand, lands with a soft thud against the counter. You both stare at each other like someone just flipped the universe upside down.

“You feel that?” he asks. And it’s not a line. It’s not casual. His voice is rougher now. Almost afraid.

You nod. Whisper, “Yeah.”

He lifts a hand slowly. Gives you time to step back, to say no, to deny it. But you don’t.

When his fingers touch yours, it’s instantaneous.

Like heat waking in your veins. Like time exhaling. Your heart stutters and then races, faster than it’s beat in years. You feel your skin come alive—blood rushing, lungs expanding, every cell remembering how to move.

And from the way he sways, the way his eyes widen and mouth parts, you know he’s feeling it too.

“Jesus,” he mutters. “I thought—I thought I’d die before this ever happened.”

Your lips curve. “You’re old, then?”

He barks out a laugh. “Let’s just say I’ve been eighteen long enough to miss rotary phones.”

You grin. “I’ve never used one.”

He leans closer. “Wanna come with me?”

You blink. “Where?”

“Anywhere.” A pause. “Everywhere.”

That’s how it begins.

A duffel bag. A backseat. The open road. Dean Winchester drives like it’s a religion and swears like it’s punctuation. He flirts without meaning to, laughs like he’s been starved for it, and kisses you like the world might end at any second.

The first time he makes you come, it’s in a motel room somewhere outside of Denver.

You’re both breathless from running—something about vampires, or maybe ghosts; you didn’t ask, too drunk on adrenaline and the way he’d looked at you in the dark. Like you were already his.

He kisses you soft at first, like he’s afraid he might break you. But his hands are anything but shy. They trail up your thighs, parting them like he already knows what’s underneath. When he finally pushes inside you, it feels like you’ve waited centuries for this exact kind of stretch, that kind of fullness, the kind of groan he makes when you clench around him.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasps into your neck, voice hot and hungry. “You feel like heaven.”

You arch under him. “Then don’t stop.”

He doesn’t.

Being with Dean is nothing like you imagined.

He’s not soft. Not exactly. But he’s gentle in the ways that matter. He makes coffee in the mornings, leaves the radio on your favorite station, kisses the inside of your wrist like a promise. He reads you bedtime stories in Latin just to make you laugh. He teaches you how to shoot a gun and then buys you a strawberry milkshake after because he says it’s “important to balance the badass with the cute.”

And maybe it’s not perfect. You still fight. He still shuts down sometimes, still carries the weight of the world in the slope of his shoulders. But now, when he breaks, you’re there to hold him. And when you tremble, he’s already pulling you into his chest, pressing kisses into your hair, reminding you that he’s not going anywhere.

Not now. Not ever.

Months pass. Then years. You both start to age.

Little things at first. A crinkle at the edge of his eyes when he smiles. The slight ache in your hips when you ride him too long.

But it’s beautiful, this slow unraveling. This proof that it’s real. That you found each other. That time is moving again—together.

He touches the first silver strand in your hair like it’s a miracle.

“I’ve waited a long time for this,” he says, voice thick with feeling.

You cup his cheek. “What? The wrinkles?”

He grins. “No. You.”

And maybe you’ll never know why it took so long. Why fate made you wait. But when he holds you at night, when his breath is warm on your shoulder and his arms are wrapped tight around your waist, you finally stop wondering.

Because your clock is ticking.

And so is his.

And you’ll grow old.

Together.

Just like you were meant to.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue]

(Tumblr refreshed my page halfway through writing the original I was going to send you, so this one won't be as great lol.)

You're writing is so good! I loved how Damian is practically a reflection of the Reader. It's got me imagining Damian seeing his future through reading a journal/diary left behind.

I'm also just imagining Damien reading how Tim treated his biological older sibling and going, "I knew that cretin was bad news! Is this what Drake is planning on doing to me, too? Vile."

I can especially imagine Damian learning Reader wasn't enrolled into Gotham Academy by Bruce and had gotten in on scholarships. Or that Reader had a fake ID to start working almost as soon as they came to the manor so that they could afford new uniforms and clothes, as well as any school based amenities. As well as personal amenities. Working themselves to the bone. Being disinvited from eating at a table. That they had never been allowed to eat at before, anyways. How the Reader had only seen Bruce maybe two times since coming to the manor.

How they left for Russia at 15/16 and that's where the diary ends. And two/three years later, they still have never come back. Alfred admitting he doesn't know if they're alive or dead.

And that's when Dick comes in, having overheard the last bit only. He had been looking for Damian when he saw and followed Alfred to a little room in the abandoned maid's corridors.

How could Bruce not tell Dick that Reader left? Had moved to Russia for a survivalist summer camp and never come back? It's been- it's been-

The realization hits.

It's been years. Literally years! Since Dick had last seen Reader walking in the halls of the manor.

On the other hand, Damian is planning out how to get to Russia and find his sibling. His real sibling. Who knows what it's like to be judged for having an abusive mother, despite the memories of love. He's scared that the Wayne's will abandon him, too.

He probably even threw it in Dick's face when he comes into the room. "You are just pretending to care. You will give up soon enough. When you realize it is not as easy as telling me to believe in you, you will show me you are not worth believing in. When I do not become your vision of perfect, you will grow tired and angry. Just like you did to my sibling." While clutching onto the stuffed penguin.

And it makes Dick see how small Damian really is. How that cold glare is a shield, hiding how distressed this 10 year old child is. How it was the same look he'd see the Reader have when they walked through the halls. Dick coming to the realization that he'd never even talked to Reader except upon first meeting them.

Damian finding out where Reader is and tracking them down.

And it leads to Reader becoming the favorite sibling of Damian. As well as being ride or die for their baby brother. And even teaches him empathy through assassination.

Like, Reader asking why he was there, only for Damian to tell them how he was in danger with his mother, so was sent to the care of their biological father. Only to be treated like a thing. How they were angry he wasn't immediately like them. How he felt excluded by them. How he's scared of Tim and lashing out at the older boy, because something just seems inherently wrong with the other. And how he just wants family that wants him too.

Which leads to Reader asking what his favorite color is. In confusion, he states that it's green. So Reader pulls out a large green shirt and a green fleece blanket, gives them, and tells him he looks tired and can sleep in the guest room. Asks him if he's allergic to anything or avoids certain foods. Damian says no, cause the Bat Cow incident has yet to happen so he still eats meat. Reader makes Blinchiki with salmon and fruit on the side.

And Reader gives Damian a knife in a leather sheath, hilt first. Tells him to sleep with it under his pillow, with a hand in it at all times. That if he ever hears someone in his space that he doesn't trust or recognize, to pretend to be asleep until they get close. Then strike for their stomach.

Damian feels so loved.

Especially when the Reader sneaks into his room at night a week later and he gets to try it on them. The Reader leaps back in time. They pause for a moment. Which causes Damian to fear that this wasn't the same type of training his mother gave. Only for Reader to start laughing and tell him good job.

I can imagine that Damian breathes out a sigh of sadness, telling his sibling he has to go back to the Wayne's to check in, because otherwise his mother may try to find him. And he heard that his brother had gotten away from her before Damian was given to his father.

Reader, who had been asked to go to Gotham and scout out a trafficking ring the developed between the dark city and Russia, agrees.

Cue Reader and Damian not only busting the trafficking ring, but also saving Bat Cow and getting her as a pet. They're a little confused as to where to put her though. So they just have a cow in their safe house. Take it out on walks like a dog. Feed her with a mix of store bought veggies.

Damian already knows he's going to take her to the Manor. There's plenty of space. That's what he ends up doing the next day.

The expressions on the Bat Family's faces when he's brought a cow home after nearly two months of not knowing exactly where he was would be hilarious. The fact that he's so gentle and sweet towards the cow, and somehow more calm around them if a bit standoffish, floors them.

"Reader said that I need to learn to value life from an empathetic route. Bat Cow is now family to me. She's my responsibility. And I'll care for her as such."

Damian being vegetarian is also a big change. But seeing Damian actually 'behave', becoming quite and disappearing into the background, backing out of being Robin? All of it is a shock.

(Damian's not going to stop being a vigilante, of course. He finally has a cause of his own. But he's refusing the legacy of a man who clearly doesn't want him. And following in Jason and Reader's footsteps.)

Right before Reader is about to leave, a Wayne gala gets held hostage by the Joker. Who's specifically threatening Damian as the new Wayne. Who promptly gets a sniper bullet put through his skull. Damian damn well knows who it was. Feels very happy he has a sibling who was willing to get in trouble to save him, unlike the supposed siblings that stood to the side and watched.

I can also imagine Damian introducing Reader and Jason. The two realize who the other is. Jason saying how it was nice to finally meet the Reader, considering they never wanted to before he died. And Reader snipping back that they distinctly remember begging Alfred to meet their supposed brothers. Both deadpan for a moment. Only to realize, "Oh shit. We weren't allowed to meet each other cause the adults were assholes." Jason was being accused of a murder he didn't commit and Reader was considered outside the family and was never told anything about the Bats.

Just imagine. Damian, Jason, and Reader all becoming super close as family.

While the ones at the manor are all becoming Yandere. Trying to figure out where Reader is. Hunting down as much of a paper trail as they can. Slowly uncovering everything that happened to Reader. From the moment they were in the manor to the moment they left. Reader becoming this sad child never given a chance. Who became a god damn assassin with a fuck to of kills. Bruce especially feeling horrible, cause in his mind his child has to become a killer to even get his attention. Tim feeling awful, cause he realized that the Reader had none of what he thought they did. Dick realizing he failed another sibling.

Duke gets invited into the family and Damian decided, this one's cool. And invites him to the monthly family dinners with Jason and Reader. And Duke hears Bruce worrying about Reader. So he tells the man that he'll ask Reader if they want to come to the manor to play video games. And it just makes the yandere family just mentally need to reboot.

Hiya ty for the juicy ask and apologies if this is late tumbkr hasn't been sending me any notifs !!

read lone warrior here

Yess !! Reader is a mirror of Damian- a mirror version of him that's a bit more unstable and unhinged - that's probably why he was so drawn to her because they have alot of similarities !

And yes Damian will go all yandere (platonically) over her because he feels safe , comforted ? When he's in her room or much less her general space - and to top it off she too is an assassin like himself and she too also doesn't get along with the family so ofc he's determined to be in contact with her !

It would be very hard to her in contact with her through because not only is she considered a cold case , it's been years since she's been at the manor and with her special job she isn't someone you can easily find .

In this particular au mc hasn't met Jason as her adoption to the Wayne family occurred right after his death along with Tim's adoption and during this time Dick would be busy running the titans and being nightwing so he personally hasn't met her.

Especially since she wasn't a Robin or anything. Tim and Mc relationship is rocky - extremely rocky - and to a point Mc's relationship with Bruce and Alfred is very rocky as well.

To her they were temporary roommates - she already had a mom and a dad who loved her itlnitially so she saw no use for seeking that in either of them and Tim was honestly a weirdo to her .

Though upon Damian finding about her and obviously cross questioning Alfred about Mc , damain would probably cross question him too thinking he'd know her only to be disappointed when Dick has no clue about Mc . Que the curiosity when he begins to find out more about you and is actually pretty mad at Bruce & Alfrdd because neither mentioned you to him and also allows a 15 year old child to be missing.

Like he's realky pissed off because lord knows what could happened to you ?. Also yes Damian is extremely hostile to Tim when he finds out about how vile he was to you . Bro actually tries to strangle him for it .

Though once Damian does mett Mc - they start off rocky - mainly because Mc has no experience with any siblings or anything familiar since her mentor & he's also Bruce's son and she wants nothing to do with him at first.

Obviously the more time Dmaian spends with her she gradually sees herself in him and takes him under her wing like a big sister . I'd picture her taking him fishing or something to instil patience in him or like teaching him to ride a bike .

But yes as Damian spends more time with Mc is the more he learns that he isn't alone in this and that it's okay to be broken and gradually becomes calmer . Obviously much to his dismay he has to return back home and when he does the batfam are suprised by the change lol.

I picture him talking about Mc to Jason because Mc gave him a vintage gun from her personal collection for protection and when Damain was showing it off Jason was curious about it .

So safe to say Jason is blown shocked when he finds out he has a badass sibling who has no regard to human life , straight up badass assassin who literally fishes and bakes in her free time. So ofc Jason is excited to meet mc like hello please be his older sister too god knows he needs the advice you have Damian .

Cass and Steph 100% thinks your badass and wants to meet you too and is low key mad at Damain for gatekeepgatekeeping you from them .

Duke thinks your pretty chill but abit scary at the same time but hey you sound cool and maybe you can give him pointers on how to fight better .

Alfred , Bruce and Tim are feeling guilty because they feel partial to blame for Mc's trauma and neglect - especially Bruce and Tim because they feel responsible for the way you turned out . Bruce is literally scrambling to find out about you lol.

As despite not being blood related by any means Damian considers MC his blood sibling & his favorite sibling :))

Literally have them saved as " blood sis " on his phone.

[kingkaisen]

After what happened to you and your son, Satoru can’t stop drinking . . .

content: drinking, mentions of wanting to die, death, blood.

His tongue was numb from the burning alcohol that slipped down his throat in questionable amounts. The bartender had started to grow concerned, discreetly raising one of his eyebrows at the white-haired man.

“Here,” the bartender poured Satoru’s poison into another shot glass and sat it down in front of him with a gentle clank. “This one’s on the house. Do I need to call a cab for you, sir? Or do you have a ride?”

The young bartender was met with glassy, bloodshot eyes. The windows of Satoru’s soul were shattered, reflecting nothing except brokenness and a lack of sobriety.

Satoru didn’t answer. He only blinked at the bartender. It was a slow, mechanical click of the lids as if he had to remind himself to blink.

Blink, blink, blink.

He preferred not to do so, because every time he closed his eyes — even for the second it took to keep his blue orbs from drying out — he saw it.

It, being the reason why he was at the dead, boring bar that smelt of old wood and faint musk in the first place.

He was here almost every night because of you.

Because of what happened to you.

Satoru wrapped his unsteady hand around the shot glass, downing the drink as he tried to drown his sorrows.

He sat the fourth small glass down next to the other ones. He needed more. It wasn’t enough. He wasn’t drunk enough. There wasn’t enough alcohol in his belly to wash away the sickness he felt swirling around in the pit of his stomach whenever he thought about you.

“Another one,” Satoru’s voice was unrecognizable to his own ears. “Another one . . . Please.”

The bartender hesitated, wiping his hands off on the white towel across his shoulder.

The bar needed money. The other three customers who were lingering around were mainly there for the pool table, and bought a glass of beer just to sip on it while they played.

The family-owned business was at risk of shutting down thanks to the brand new club in the next town over, packed with young adults who were not only drinking, but dancing underneath neon lights and loud music as well.

This old bar could only afford to have the same old country songs on repeat, playing lowly in the background.

Even so, the bartender didn’t want money badly enough to contribute to this man’s horrific habit.

Someone like Satoru should have been at the club in the other town. He appeared to be much too young to drink his life away.

“Sir?” The bartender tilted his head, speaking softly to the depressed man. “I’m not supposed to ask customers why they’re drinking, but you’re a regular here, and . . . I’d love to know why.”

The question didn’t bother Satoru, truth be told. After all, everyone often asked him that, or a variety of similar questions.

“All you do is drink now, Gojo. That won’t solve anything. Why are you being so useless?”

“Why did you quit being a sorcerer? The world needs you! You were the strongest!”

“You don’t smile or laugh anymore. What happened to the old goofball we all love?”

Satoru sadly smiled at the bartender.

“My entire family is dead . . . ‘cause of me.”

The bartender’s eyes widened. He immediately poured Satoru another shot, and one for himself as well.

“I had a-a job. Dangerous one, but I was the best at it. I was a teacher too, and with the kinda work I did, I watched people die more often than I’d like to admit. My . . . My wife. She wanted me to quit. The world was getting more and more dangerous, and she didn’t want me to die. But I was a cocky son-of-a-bitch . . . I was thinking, ‘I’m Satoru Gojo! Nothing’s gonna happen to me, I’m the strongest!’”

Satoru paused, gulping down another shot. A tear ran down his cheek. “One day, I was out on a mission. My wife didn't want me to go. Typical. When I came home a few days later, I walked through the front door, and . . . her and my three-year-old son. He was three years old.”

“What happened to them?” The bartender asked softly.

“What happened is that I didn’t listen. When you’re the strongest, you make plenty of enemies. And if your enemies are smart, they know that they can’t hurt you directly. They wouldn’t win. So,” Gojo ran his shaky hand across his pale face, “they go after your loved ones. The enemies I had to put up with were heartless. There was so much blood, I couldn’t . . . they killed my-my wife . . . They killed my wife and my boy . . . my baby boy.”

Satoru clenched his fists hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. Hot tears fell from his reddened waterline.

“I quit my job after that. Left my students behind.”

“I would’ve quit too,” the bartender said, swallowing down his shot. “I’m sorry that happened to you, sir.”

Gojo nodded, as he was sorry it happened as well.

He didn’t tell the bartender everything, though.

The lump in his throat that formed from choking back a sob wouldn’t allow for any more words to be spoken.

He failed to mention that the blood was fresh, still bright and liquidity, meaning that your death had occurred only moments before he arrived home.

And he didn’t get home fast enough.

He didn’t mention that the blood had soaked his hands, and he nearly burned his skin off trying to boil the red stains off of him.

He didn’t mention the fact that he had lost his mind. He went on a killing spree around the country, murdering every curse and curse user he came across, paying no mind to any innocent civilians who might have gotten caught in the crossfire.

He didn’t mention how badly he wanted to die too, but he was holding on because he couldn’t kill the demon that murdered his family, but he wouldn’t rest until he found a way.

However, there was one thing he would always keep to himself — one thing he wouldn’t dare mention.

It was the fact that your bodies were never found.

Perhaps, if he wasn’t drunk nearly every second of every day — and he visited other places in town aside from the bar — he would have noticed that the kind coffee shop owner who owned a business right down the street looked incredibly identical to you.

And the boy who helped run the shop on the weekends had the same head of white hair as him.

— FIND PART II HERE —

[mrsparrasblog]

I just listened to "My Tears Ricochet" and had an idea.

TW: Angst *laughs in free therapy*

So, imagine the boys need to fake their deaths. How macabre it is that they attend their own funerals, wanting to watch their loved ones. (These are standalone scenarios they don't fake their death together)

Price: You were his wife for all these years, always waiting for him to return. The funny thing was you could clearly remember the last argument before he left.

"Love, just one more tour, and I'm coming back to you. Then we can start a family and all that, but the boys need me."

"It's always the last tour with you. When is it really the last?"

"This time, I promise."

To some extent, he was right. You thought it was his last tour, but it wasn’t fair. You knew it was over when you got the call from General Shepard. Your husband was dead. You lost the love of your life, and all you got were his dog tags and a check large enough to end world hunger. You slapped your friend after she said at least you were financially secure now.

Price watched you from behind a tree. He saw how you clung to his grave, hugging it tightly and lying on it as you always used to with him. Your dress was dirty, and the tears wouldn’t come anymore.

When Laswell and Nik approached you, you screamed at them, blaming them for not protecting your husband. You trusted them, and now you couldn't bear to let anyone else near his grave. John wished he could comfort you, tell you he would come back to protect you, but he couldn’t. Instead, he sent Simon, who endured all your insults, screams, and even a punch to his crooked nose until you were ready to move on.

Kyle: You and Kyle were born on the same day, in the same room, in the same hospital. It was like a movie; he was your best friend since forever, your first everything, and you were his. It was a love like in all those movies. The only thing separating you was the military, but you stayed home waiting for him. Not even war could separate you. Last year, he brought you that ring. You remember lying in bed, cuddling him as he promised you that you were allowed to die first. He knew you wouldn’t survive his death. So he made the silly promise that you would die first. He thought it was the first promise he ever broke to you.

Kyle had to be held back when he saw you crying at his grave. “Guess I’ll find you in the next one, love. Sleep well.”

Ghost: He was never good at love, and he was sure no one would come to his funeral. No one knew "Ghost," and Simon Riley had been buried since 2009. But then he saw you, the cute medic he always tried to push away. He was afraid of hurting you or corrupting you. How could he have known that pushing you away wouldn’t stop you from loving a dead man?

All the conversations came flooding back:

"Here, Lt. I made you red velvet cookies, your favorite."

"You're going to sit down and let me fix that, idiot."

"You're beautiful, Ghost."

"You're enough."

"It's kind of silly to be in love with someone whose name you didn’t even know. I hope you find your peace, big boy." You placed lilies on his grave and left. In that moment, Simon Riley realized he was loved, and he would burn the world down to come back from the dead just to return to you.

Johnny: Contrary to popular belief among the team, Johnny wasn’t a whore. He was a loving husband and father. That was written above "Sergeant" on his grave, at least.

His funeral was crowded with people who wanted to pay their last respects. Most of them were blue-eyed MacTavishes. Then there was you, holding your three-year-old in your arms. He didn’t understand why everyone was crying or why Dad wasn’t there anymore.

Johnny watched you sit at his grave, sighing as you talked to your husband. "James doesn’t understand what’s going on, but he misses you. He wanted me to give him a mohawk. It looks ridiculous, just like you. I know you’re rocking it in heaven. Just please wait for me, okay? Don’t want you to hoe around in heaven," you chuckled, holding back the tears. "You watch us from there, right? Can’t miss the birth of your princess, can you?"

[satxnsupreme666]

Love in the darkest hour: Agatha Harkness x fem!reader x Rio Vidal

Masterlist

Requested by: @perfectartisanwerewolf

Summary: During Agatha´s trial, you are the one that gets possessed, Rio and Agatha get protective of you but you end up getting hurt, your girlfriends feel guilty and all of the wicthes get worried about you.

Warnings: Reader gets hurt, mention of wounds, broken bones, angst and fluff,  I think that´s it (Oh, and English is not my first language but I still try hard to check my own grammar)

Word count:  6k+

Author’s notes: In this story Alice does not die.

Hello, this was a requested story, and I wanted to write it before posting the final old stories I wrote three years ago, sorry that I took three days to write this and that is not longer, but I will be honest, I divide my time between doing nothing at all or doing everything at the same time (that means writing, reading, listening to some music, playing something, watching a movie etc.)

I hope this is what you were waiting for @perfectartisanwerewolf ♥️

I hope you like it! ♥️

If you enjoy, could you comment, like or reblog? it would help a lot really ♥️

Taglist: @midnight-lestrange  @eliscannotdance

“We’re ok” Agatha announced after all of you had had to fly away from the Salem seven, it had been close, really close, all of you really needed to be more careful, you still were worried about those entities trying to get Agatha, she had told you that you didn’t need to worry about, but still, you didn’t want that something happened to Agatha.

“No, we’re not, the entire Halloween aisle’s outside waiting for us” Maybe Jenn was right, could they be really outside?

“Well it doesn’t look like they can get in, does it? All we have to do is complete the trial and continue on before they can get us” Her sentence seemed to calm everyone a little bit, Jenn seemed to relax a little.

“My spell book, I can’t find it!” The teen started to look inside his little bag.

“Where’d you have it last time?” Lilia tried to reason with him so he could think clearly.

“Flying on a broom” The teen sounded sad, so you went towards him and put your hand on his shoulder, you felt bad for him, you wanted to reassure him somehow.

“Forget about it, you can take the training wheels off” The older witch said to him still standing in front of the door.

The teen looked at you and Lilia with a sad expression.

“Hey it’s alright, Agatha’s right, you don’t need it, all of those spells that were on your notebook are also there inside your head, you know all of them, so don’t worry alright?” He seemed to understand because he quickly smiled at you and nodded.

Agatha saw the interaction with a smile on her face, she loved how you were be able to make everyone feel better; you knew how to cheer someone up, you could not only heal physical wounds, but also wounds that were not visible and that only hurt people emotionally.

You sensed someone watching you and turned to look at the direction where you sensed the gaze on you, Agatha was looking at you from her place, she was staring at you with so much love, she winked at you and smiled back at her.

“Look at you!” The teen suddenly said to you, you looked back at him and then at your clothes, noticing the style of the clothes that you were wearing, it was kind of like the ones in the slasher movies you liked to watch.

Looking back at the teen in front of you, you noticed his shirt and shorts as well, glancing back at the other witches you realized they were wearing the same clothing style, same thing that had happened during the last trials, you still wondered when would be your trial and what theme would it be, would it have a creepy vibe? With maybe a haunted house? Or maybe an abandoned house in the middle of a forest? A hill? You were excited to find out.

“You look like one of the teens from those eighties and nineties slasher movies” You had to tell him, if not you knew the idea would never leave your mind.

He took a glance at his clothes and then at the surroundings, he could not deny that you were right, all of you looked like one the main characters of a slasher movie set in the 80’s or 90’s, he remembered something so suddenly that he had to take you by your shoulders, you giggled before he even had the chance to say what had crossed his mind.

“Oh my god, y/n I have the perfect playlist for this!” You grinned and saw how he moved his hands to his sides, as if he was trying to find something, he pursed his lips and looked back at you.

“Right, I forgot, I don’t have my phone either” He sounded a little bit annoyed but smiled at the end anyway.

“You don’t even have pockets remember” you were right, he should have remembered that first.

Rio had heard your comment about the slasher movies and turned herself to look at him, she smirked and walked closer to the two of you.

When she saw you from behind, she noticed that you were wearing clothes that were similar to hers and her eyes looked you up and down, when she got closer to you, she passed her arms around your waist and pulled you closer to her, you instinctively rested your head against her chest.

The teen noticed the smirk on Rio’s face which only made him squirm, Rio scared him, her deadly stare made him grimace.

“Hey, she is right, you do look like a character in a slasher movie from the 80’s, you would be the first character to die at the start of the movie” She said to him while staring without blinking and on top of that, the smirk had never disappeared from her face.

You couldn’t help but giggle at her comment, slightly you patted her chest, the teen swallowed hard and blinked several times trying to laugh awkwardly.

“That is not something nice to say Vidal, don’t mess with him, you scare him” You said to her with a pout on your face.

“She does not scare me” The teen replied back, but Rio turned her head hastily at him and bit into the air, as if she was warning him that she could bite him, the teen jumped slightly.

“Maybe just a little” The dark-haired boy commented being wary of Rio.

“Don’t mind her” Was what you said to him while looking at him with a smile on your face.

“I think you would be one of the final boys that make it to the end of the movie” The boy in front of you seemed to think about it and nodded, he seemed convinced that he would actually be a final girl, and you didn’t doubt it, he smiled fondly at you, and Rio started to caress your back.

“Who would you think I’ would be in a slasher movie set on the 80’s sweetheart?” Rio asked you rising her right eyebrow.

You brought your hand to your chin and acted as if you were in deep thought, but of course, you already had your answer.

“You would be the killer, the killer everyone suspects but cannot actually prove it” You said out lout and the teen gasped.

“She is right, you would be the killer” You had not noticed that the other witches had walked towards you, they were already near you and were looking at you with small smiles on their faces.

Even if they did not trust Agatha at all, and were a little bit scared of Rio because of her antics, they find you really adorable.

In their minds they still could not comprehend how someone as sweet as you, who only used magic to heal people, was with the other two witches.

They still did not understand what a healing witch whose magic was as pure as the meaning of white lilies was doing with Agatha Harkness, former user of the darkhold and with Rio, the witch who did not care about anything and seemed to be so scary, the same woman who agreed on being a “psycho” with a big smile on her face.

Even if they did not comprehend it at all, they could see the way the two witches acted around you, and the way they treated you, they were soft with you, you were the only one that could see and had the privilege to see that side of them, you felt really lucky.

Rio turned her head back at the teen and tilted her head slightly.

“If I was the killer, you would be my first victim, you would not even make it to the second act” Your girlfriend said as if she was just saying facts.

“That is not right Rio, I am pretty sure he would be one of the few that actually makes it to the end” Rio cackled and you tilted your head to give her a disapproving look.

“Ah, fine, he would make it to the end” This deep down made the teen jump internally, it made him feel excited that she had admitted that.

Rio gave you a playful pat on your shoulder.

“Let me look for Agatha, we don’t want her to cause more trouble do we?” She winked at you and left your side.

Alice then came to stand next to the teen, with a curious look on her face.

“Who would I be in a slasher movie?” She inquired looking excited to know your answer.

Examining her carefully you came to the only conclusion that seemed accurate for Alice.

“I think you would be the main character, the protagonist who is tortured and stalked by the killer, because she was the only one who escaped, you would be one of the original final girls, the final girl who fights back, like Laurie Strode on Halloween” Her eyebrows were risen and nodded her head in understanding.

“Yeah, she is totally right, you would be a total badass” The teen agreed with you. Alice beamed with happiness and pressed her hands together.

“You heard that?” Alice asked glancing at Jenn and Lilia.

“I am not really a fan of horror movies, so I really don’t know what you are talking about” Explained Jenn and Lilia nodded her head in a way of showing she felt the same.

Smiling at them you started to explain everything “It’s fine, basically, the horror or slasher movies tend to have a series of “rules” that characterize them, one thing for the slasher movies is for example, that there is a killer-“

“Sometimes there are two killers” The teen quickly said.

“Or sometime yes there are two killers, who usually start their murder spree killing different characters, and the final girl is the character who makes it to the end of the movie and defeats the villain” You finished your explanation.

“Who do you think Agatha would be?” The teen inquired.

“I would say that because of her personality traits she would be the killer that no one suspects of, I mean she is smart, charming” The four of them nodded in agreement.

“And who would you be?” The boy asked you again.

“I would be the character who dies at the start” You simply said, and they all started to discuss that in fact that would not be true.

“I think you would be the character that everyone is attached to, like the character who is friends with everyone and who also everyone tries to protect, you know? also I can see how you would be close to the final girl and you would get extra protection” The teen said and put a finger on his chin, looking at you, analyzing you, you only smiled at him and shook your head.

“Is this how people really looked at the time? I mean, the clothing style, the vibe, all of it?” You wondered out loud and jumped when you felt someone hugging you from behind, you felt the arms of Rio pulling you closer to her.

“Yes, people actually dressed up like this” Agatha said behind you, and all of you turned to look at her, she had kind of a disheveled look, he hair up in a ponytail and the oversized purple shirt fitted her amazingly.

“Whose trial is this?” Asked the teen while looking up at the ceiling.

Rio looked at the window in front of you and you did the same thing, the blood moon could be perfectly seen since your position.

“Agatha’s” answered the witch holding you from behind, you were a little bit worried, so you turned your head to look at Agatha, she saw your worried expression and gave you a reassuring smile, it was a tad scary for her, but with you and Rio there by her side, she knew the trial would be easily passed, or at least, that’s what she hoped.

Hearing Lilia’s explanation about the blood money and the believe of a misconception she mentioned, everyone turned around to look at their beeping watches in their wrists.

“The road wants us to Ouija” The teen showed all of you the board, and everyone started to gather closer, then he proceeded to read the rules.

“Number two, do not speak over each other” And all the witches began to speak over each other, clearly not realizing what they were doing.

Rio and you heard clearly when Agatha demanded to be shown the rules to see if it actually said that and you couldn’t help but share an amused look with her,

Rio shook her head smiling and sticking her tongue out a little, you tried to hide your laugh but you couldn’t, Agatha realized who was laughing and she looked at you, you were next to her left and Rio was next to you.

“What?” Agatha asked with feigned innocence, and you just shrugged your shoulders.

“What is so funny doll?” Agatha asked again and came closer to you to caress your hair, you unconsciously leant into her touch, and let her guide you to rest your head on her chest.

“I love the way you look in those clothes” She commented dangerously close to your ear witch a husky voice.

“Not the time for that” You replied amused, you had to focus on passing the trial.

“Shall we start?” Agatha seemed to tense and you saw the way she started to swallow, it was obvious that she was nervous, the teen sat on the floor and the other witches started to do the same forming a circle.

“Hey, are you alright?” You asked her while she squeezed your hands, you felt the way she pulled you closer to her, and you happily leant into her touch.

“I will be alright, don’t worry” She said to you in a whisper.

“Rio and I are here for you, you know?” You replied back at her and she nodded with a smile in her face.

“I know, thank you, I love you so much” Agatha said near your ear and she pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Let’s get started” She said, you did not notice the way Agatha nodded at Rio, Rio understood and Agatha took your hand one more time to hand you to Rio, Agatha gave you one last squeeze and Rio took your hand in hers, the brown-eyed woman smiled reassuringly at Agatha and put her arm around your waist, she pushed you slightly and placed you next to her right, while Agatha sat next to you as well, leaving you in the middle of the two of them.

Everyone on the room put their hands on the board and waited for Agatha to start, when her hands got separated from the board you really got scared and quickly turned your head to look at Rio, she saw your worried expression and quickly mouthed a “Don´t worry” and smiled slightly at you.

“She´s scared” Commented Rio while you sighed in relief, for a moment you had thought your girlfriend had been possessed, Rio then patted the sit ordering Agatha to come and sit again.

“Do not do that, it was funny, but you got her scared” Rio said to Agatha and nodding towards you, while the blue-eyed woman sat back next to you and she gave you a shy smile.

“Sorry love, I thought it was funny” The older witch commented with an apologetical look.

Sighing you just shook your head and slightly bumped your shoulders against her.

“It alright, I just do not want anything to happen to you” Rio then looked back at her and nodded, she felt the same even if she found her little joke funny.

“Alright” The blue-eyed woman proceeded to place her hands on the board and everyone did the same, you were not going to lie, feeling the board moving so hard and faster made your heart beat in fear, you never had played it and it actually made you feel scared, but you knew you had to do it in order to pass the trial.

“Punish Agatha” Was what the board said and you quickly felt yourself getting tense, but before someone could actually understand what was happening you heard Agatha yelling at everyone to stop it and you were not sure what or how it happened but Agatha got her hands off the board and you panicked.

The scream that was all over the place, was so loud and it pierced you ears.

You saw her getting to the floor and she covered her ears just as everyone else did, but you were still worried of what could happen to your girlfriend since it was her trial, so you uncovered you ears not caring if the loud sound made your ears hurt and went to kneel next to Agatha to check if she was fine and did not have any type of physical wounds.

Agatha noticed your face contorted in pain, but her heart melted when she realized you were checking her to make sure she was not hurt, out of instinct she uncover her ears and made sure your ears were covered using her own hands, even in the middle of the chaos she still managed to show you how much she cared for you.

You were so lost in her eyes that you did not even notice when things calmed down, the scream could not be heard anymore and the things flying around the room were already scattered all over the floor.

“Is it over?” Your eyes stared to examine the room and the witches around you, getting closer and closer, what happened?

“Sorry y/n, but it seems like in order to pass this trial we have to punish Agatha” Jenn was looking right at Agatha, her gaze not darting somewhere else.

“There has to be another way” The teen said out loud and you agreed with him.

“Wait no! You cannot just decide that you are going to hurt her” You said to the three witches in front of you, your pleading eyes started to get glossy, they could not actually think that this was their way out right? Even if the ghost or whatever was wanted that, there had to be another way.

The teen looked horrified about what could happen, it was clearly they were not thinking clearly and with Rio walking faster towards the two of you, he panicked as well.

“I am sorry but you have to move” Jenn said with what you thought maybe, just maybe was guilty.

Alice was unsure, they were not actually going to do something to Agatha right? She looked at Lilia who had the same unsure look on her face.

Your pleading eyes with tears about to be shed made them feel unsure on what to do, they knew that you loved her and you would not be able to do anything to her, but what if that was what the ghost wanted them to do?

Before they got the time to get closer to you Rio appeared in front of the two of you and got her knife out of wherever she hid it, you were always amazed because whenever you saw her getting something out of her pockets or her clothes, you never really understood where she hid all of the things she carried with her.

“No one is touching Agatha, nor y/n” She said with a firm tone.

Agatha caressed your back and nodded at you, she gave you a reassuring smile and squeezed your hand.

“It´s alright, don´t worry, nothing is going to happen to me, ok” She pressed her forehead against you and you nodded, Agatha then stood up and came up behind Rio.

“Listen, we can talk about it and see what other options we have, let´s not get wild” She said trying to be reasonable, but then a sound was heard from your spot, and everyone turned to where the sound had come from.

“Where is she?” The teen asked with his eyes wide open, the witches started to turn themselves around looking for you.

“Sweetheart? Where are you?” Agatha asked out loud, and everyone started to move to different directions trying to see if they could catch a glimpse of where were you.

“We have to find her! She was right there and the next second she was not, how is that even possible?”  Your girlfriend Agatha started to panic, it was something weird when it came to her, being panicked was not a state she was used to, but when it come to you or Rio, she could not help but worry more than anything.

“Hey, look at me, we are going to find her, she could not have gotten too far” Rio reassured her and Agatha nodded, she was right, you could not have gotten too far.

They all gasped in unison when the lights went out.

“Hey, we were not going to actually hurt your girlfriend Agatha, just come out wherever you are” The potions which announced while she examined the room.

The teen started to look for something that they could use to get some light, and when he found a lamp, he looked pleased, now it would be easier to look for you.

“Hey, does anyone hear that” Lilia inquired and the teen felt something that had touched his shoulder, he visibly tensed and pointed the lamp towards the ceiling.

The scream that came after seeing you was inevitable, the other witches looked up as well and started to scream as well.

“Oh my god, what happened to her?” Jenn screamed and walked back until she hit one of the walls.

“Agatha get her out of the ceiling!” Alice yelled at her.

“I would if I had my powers!” Agatha yelled back; her face was full of worry.

“She is going to get hurt” Lillia declared while covering her mouth with her hand.

What they were not waiting, was that you jumped from the ceiling, landing with a hard thud against the floor.

“Is she hurt? Someone please check her!” Alice yelled again

“She is not y/n” The teen screamed when suddenly your body got up from the fall and started to contort your body, he squirmed and crawled back to try to protect himself from what he was seeing in front him.

“She is possessed for real” The teen was horrified, the look you had on your face was clearly not something he was expecting, he just hoped that neither of you would get hurt.

“Someone needs to grab her!” Someone in the back yelled, but due to everyone screaming the teen did not even recognize whose voice it was.

“No! wait, she could get hurt! No one is touching her!” Rio glanced menacingly.

“Then how can we help her?!” Agatha asked desperately, she came to place herself next to Rio, the two of them wanted to actually try and do something, maybe catch you and bring you to the center, but the way your body was contorting made them afraid that they could hurt you more.

“Oh my god guys, why are her bones sounding like that?” The teen screamed out of fear at the sound of your cracking bones, you were getting too close to him when suddenly your body for some seconds went limp and crashed against the floor, they were going to go and help you but after only some seconds your body stood up again crashing against the wall, Lilia was quick to get the power back and in a blink of an eye, you disappear again.

“Where is she? Where is she?” Rio looked several times around the room trying to see if you were again on the ceiling.

Before the withes could have more time to look for you, they saw something that looked like white fog forming in front of the stairs.

“That is a ghost, I hate ghosts” Rio said completely angered, Agatha was next to her looking at it with her brows furrowed, where had you gone?

What Agatha saw next made her gasp; her mother had materialized in front of them.

“Mother?” Agatha asked not believing what her eyes were watching.

A sound caught their attention and they looked up to see what was going upstairs, there you were, Agatha sighed in relief but after the worry could be gone, it took over her again, you were trying to stand up, grabbing your left arm with your right hand, you were crying, your sobs were loud enough for them to hear.

“What did you do to her?” Rio asked angrily taking a step forward, and Agatha did the same.

“You have to keep walking the witches´ road without her” The ghost of Evanora Harkness said to them.

Everyone gasped in shock.

“No way, we are not leaving her with you, she comes with us” Agatha said with a firm tone, never hesitating.

“Leave this girl with me, then you will be free to go” The ghost replied.

Lilia, Alice, Jenn and the teen looked at each other, they were not going to leave you there with her, and if they also needed to fight a ghost even if they did not how, they would do it.

“Taking one of the people I love the most?” Agatha laughed bitterly at the thought.

“There is no way we are leaving her with you!” Rio replied back at the ghost with a threatening tone in her voice.

“We are not letting her stay with her, you hear me? She is going to leave with us Agatha” Rio assured the blue-eyed woman.

“It is your time to pay for what you have done, you were born evil, you should not have a chance at love, I repeat, leave her with me, and you can go” Agatha clenched her jaw, Rio who was next to her was fuming, even if they wanted to do something, what could they do against a ghost?

You were crying, your whole body in pain, you were sure you were going to have bruises, you could not even lift your arm and you wondered if maybe it had been broken.

You heard everything Evanora said to her, that she was evil, but that was not true, Agatha was not evil, she was a misunderstood witch who did not have anyone to back her up and show her to control her powers, and even if you were in pain you would let your girlfriend know that her mother was not right.

“Do not listen to her Agatha, we know you are not evil, you are worthy of love” You managed to say between sobs, Agatha did not have time to answer to you, because her mother spoke again.

“I will not repeat myself” The ghost announced.

Agatha could not help the tears falling from her face, it was all her fault you were in pain, her own fault that you had been possessed by her mother, she was being punished for al the things she had done in the past, seeing you in so much pain was breaking he heart, Rio was so mad, it infuriated her seeing you and Agatha both in pain.

Before they could do something else, the ghost disappeared and they watch the way your body started to contort again, you came crawling down the stairs, the witches watched in horror.

“Leave her alone” The witch with the red strands on her hair pushed the teen, Agatha and Rio to the side, all of them saw Alice throwing her powers at you.

“Don´t hurt her!” Agatha shouted ready to go and push Alice away from you, but the teen and Rio stopped her, and watched they way your body return to your normal form, the paleness leaving your skin, and the white fog dissipated.

After some minutes Alice stopped, and you felt to the floor with a loud thud, you quickly started to groan in pain, trying to get up from the floor.

Agatha and Rio ran towards you to help you stand up.

“It hurts so much” You said to them still crying, Agatha could not take in how much pain you were, she did not want to hurt you more, but they needed to check your body.

“I know sweetheart, we know it hurt but we have to touch you to check your body alright?” Rio whispered to you in a reassuring way, it pained her too much too see you suffering.

They tried to help you stand up, but the pain in your body was too much, Agatha could see the bruises forming on your legs and on your arms, and seeing the way your arm had taken a really weird position, she knew it was broken.

“Baby, can you tell us where it hurts?” You heard Rio asking you, her voice sounded a little bit shaky.

“My arm, is what hurts the most” Yous said between sobs, you wanted the pain to stop, but you knew that even healing yourself was going to hurt a lot.

“I think… I think I can try to heal it but, but I am scared, it is going to hurt so much” Agatha turned her head to look at Rio, she closed her eyes, your sobs made her so hard to maintain a hard façade as always.

“Listen, we are here with you, we are not letting you go, you can take my hand and squeeze it as hard as you want, alright?” Agatha said before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

Rio placed herself next to Agatha, the blue-eyed woman placed you on her lap, and Rio put her hands on your back, caressing you up and down.

The witches standing in front of you, could not also take the sight, the teen had to look away, he could not stand seeing you crying from pain, and the way your arm was positioned, made him feel uneasy.

Lilia was holding Alice´s hand, watching with glossy eyes, they could not believe that you were the one that had got hurt, Jenn wanted to do something to help you ease the pain, but nothing came to her mind.

 You clung to Agatha´s shirt, and focused hard on the pain you were feeling, Rio never stopped running her hands up and down on your back, trying to soothe you and waiting the pain would stop.

“Everything will be alright, you are going to be fine, we love you so much” Agatha said into your ear, you were trembling and she hated so much that she could not anything.

After several minutes of sobbing harder, you felt you arm getting back to its normal position, your magic had worked, the powers accommodating the bones, putting them in their normal place, Agatha was caressing your legs with her free hands and noticed the bruises disappearing.

With one final breath, you felt yourself relaxing, the pain going away completely, and when Agatha and Rio were sure you were not hurting anymore, a door opened, all of you looked at it.

“We passed the trial” The teen said out loud, they were relieved you had stopped crying, but felt immensely guilty for not have been able to do anything to help you somehow.

 “We have to go sweetheart” She squeezed your shoulders lovingly, and the two of your grilfriends helped you to stand up.

Agatha quickly pulled you closer to her, her left hand on your waist, Rio put her hand on your shoulders, afraid of letting you walk alone.

They started to walk towards the door to get ready to leave and go back to the road.

“Alice” Agatha called for her when she started to walk in front of you, she turned quickly to look at you and to the other two witches in front of her.

“Thank you, for saving her” Agatha said with a soft look on her face, it was sincere, Agatha sounded sincere for the first time since the have arrived at the road, and smiled at her.

“It is alright, you do not have to thank me, I really wish I had done more” Alice gave the three of you an apologetically smile.

“You saved me” You replied at her.

“It was more than enough, Alice” Agatha let her know, Rio gave her a nod and the shorter witch smiled, it was a big smile, she turned herself around and started to walk back towards the door.

The three of you were the last standing in the room right in front of the door that would take you back to the road.

Agatha made you stop and you looked at her, with a frown on your face.

“Listen, I, I am sorry, it was my fault, because of me, because of what I have done in the past, you got hurt, and, none of us could do something to actually help you, I feel so-“ You abruptly interrupted her.

“Don´t blame yourself please, it was not your fault, please stop blaming yourself” You wiped her tears out of her face before talking again.

“I would never blame you for anything, I am fine, we are fine, we passed the trial, I am happy nothing happened to you” Before you could continue speaking, you felt her arm wrapping you in a hug, she passed her arms around your waist and you heard her cry, she loved you with her entire heart, and she could not stop blaming herself, what if something worse had happened to you?

Rio went to place herself next to Agatha and started to caress her back before looking at you.

“Hey, it´s alright, I would never, really never, let anyone hurt any of you, I would break the rules for you, so you can rest assure Agatha, that I won´t let anything else happen to her, alright?” Rio knew what to say, because you felt Agatha getting relaxed and she sighed.

“We are going to keep an eye on you, we are going to make sure noting else happens to you, we swear” Agatha commented while looking into your eyes, and Rio nodded quickly.

Smiling at them, the three of you started to walk again, ready to face whatever would be next, Agatha and Rio let you in first, and it made you laugh, you were not sure what was going to happen, or if something really worst was waiting for you outside, but what you were sure, was that with the two of your girlfriends taking care of you, you would be fine, and that was alright, you knew that if anything happened, Rio and Agatha would be there for you, ready to fight against anything that would even just threaten you, so you smiled pulled yourself closer to them when you stepped outside of that place, Agatha came next to you and again she pressed her hand on your waist, and Rio put her hand on your shoulder, they started to guide you to the group that was waiting for you in the middle of the road, and you smiled, you were going to be alright, no matter what.

When you got closer to the group, they heard the leaves been stepped on by someone and they quickly turned their head to look at you, they all had smiles on their faces.

You saw the way the teen turned his body completely towards you and he opened his arms, the closer you got the more you noticed his puffy eyes, when you arrived in front of him, you quickly opened your arms as well and let him engulf you in a hug.

“Thank god you are fine” He said while the two of you slightly swung due to the teen moving to the sides, you giggled and separated yourself to look at him.

“I am fine because Alice saved me” You replied to him and realized all of the witches had come closer and were standing really close to you and the teen hugging you.

You looked to your left to see Alice wiping quickly one tear that was running down her face, and tried to act as if she did not want to cry, she quickly cleared her throat and saw how Lilia and Jenn were smiling at her, Lilia put her hand on Alice´s shoulder and caressed it lovingly.

You chuckled and walked closer to Alice until you were standing next to her, she looked up from the floor to look at you and she shrugged her shoulders.

“No big deal, it was what anyone else would have done, so we´re cool-“ Before she could continue talking you hugged her, your arms around her shoulders.

“Thank you so much Alice, you really are a protection witch, please never doubt that, you are amazing” Your words had touched her heart and she hugged you more, she nodded and when you looked back at her face you noticed she had left the tears ran freely down her face.

“Thank you y/n” Alice replied back at you.

“I am sorry I, I just let you there, in pain, I, I should have done something else, try to look for something to ease the pain but-“ You quickly took Jenn´s hands on yours, you knew she was not really keen on physical contact so you tried to respect that about her.

“It´s alright, you don´t have to be sorry, it was something that was out of your hands, I am grateful that you were able to save him and stop the bleeding, and that´s more than enough, thank you about that, we did not have the time to thank you for that” You said to her smiling, Jenn nodded and caressed the back of your hand.

“Can I get a hug? Everyone seems to love your hugs, I wonder what is so special about them” You nodded laughing and got yourself close to her to hug her, she always smelled amazingly, her perfume seemed to never actually leave her.

“Oh darling, I am so happy you are fine, I cannot imagine what Agatha and Rio would have ended up doing if something happened to you” Lilia pulled you closer to her after you separated yourself from Jenn, and you let her hug you while caressing your back, Lilia then took your hands in hers, and looked straight into your eyes.

“You are so important to everyone, do not ever let yourself think you do not matter alright?” She said to you with a firm tone, yet it was soft at the same time, you could only nod and your eyes filled with tears.

Agatha and Rio looked at the scene in front of them, and Agatha could only think that no one was going to let you get hurt, if for any reason Rio and her were not able to actually protect you, they knew they still had a coven that would do anything to try and protect you as well.

“It looks that you will have to start being kinder to them” Rio said to her with a smirk but she actually meant it.

“Shut up” Agatha said while pushing her slightly in a playful way.

“But you are right, we are a coven after all” Agatha commented while the two of them got close to you and placed each one of them to your sides, both of their hands on your waist.

“We still have to keep on walking, let´s go” Agatha caressed your back again, and while everyone nodded and continued to walk, you couldn’t help the smile on your face from getting bigger, maybe this would be the time for Agatha to start trusting in others, apart from only trusting in you and Rio, but you would still have a lot of time In which you would be able to help Agatha with that, right now, you still had a road to face, and you had never felt so safe and ready to face whatever that would appear.

After all, you had your girlfriends to take care of you, and a whole coven that now, looked after each other.

[celesteleoves]

“YOU ARE THE ONLY EXCEPTION.”

GOJO SATORU x reader

summary: after your students invade your privacy, you realize that you don’t want anyone in your personal space but you’re boyfriend is the exception

warnings: reader is very closed off to those she doesn’t like. reader is a teacher/was a student alongside satoru!!! fluff otherwise!

a/n: not proofread. this is so bad… send over requests pls.

—

teaching teenagers is NOT easy.

technically, it is your fault. you agreed to this. you’ve spent half of your life basically being a mother anyways (to megumi, of course) so you figured this would be an easy job.

so, now you’re wondering as why you find yourself in this situation.

you’re students, who are the three first years, were caught stealing old photo books and souvenirs from your office.

how you know it was them? megumi is the only one that knows the code to your office as it is always locked for reasons like this. you’re assuming the two other thieves gaslighted him into letting them into your office, they always do.

the three trouble makers sat on your office couch, wearily looking around the room and trying to seem clueless as to why they were brought here.

“i like that vase… is it new?” the pink haired boy spoke for the first time in a while, trying to change the topic.

“don’t be stupid. i saw you put it in here the other day after breaking my other one.” you scowled as he nervously rubbed his neck with an anxious smile on his face.

“i’m sorry! we truly didn’t think you valued your privacy this much!” nobara yelped and you frowned.

“it was for a experiment!” itadori yelped and you fought back a laugh at his words as the other two teenagers looked at him like he was stupid.

“you guys know i hate everyone here besides my students and co-workers. don’t say that to anyone. i don’t want any stray wanderers ending up in my office.” you hissed as you watched them shrink back into their seat.

just as you were about to scold them once more, you heard a familiar pair of footsteps loudly making their way to your office. a tiny smile almost forcing its way onto your face.

the door slammed open, itadori’s face lighting up at the sight of his other teacher (their saviour, in this situation).

“gojo-sensei!”

the white haired man froze at the sight of his students in your office, he was only expecting you to be here.

“can someone tell me why they are in here? you hate people in your office, love.” satoru whispered the pet name as he moved closer to you.

you threw up your hands in exasperation, “exactly! i hate my privacy being invaded.”

“i’m so sorry, i didn’t realize they would cause this much ruckus.” megumi spoke quietly for the first time, making your heart clench.

he had a soft spot in your heart, they all did, but they need a little scolding every now and then. they need someone to keep them under control… and to teach them about respecting people’s privacy.

“no, don’t apologize you three. punishment’s will be necessary though.”

their heads shot up at your words, tiling almost comically to the side in sync with each other.

your boyfriend had made his way over to your desk, plopping down on his chair and grinning secretly to himself as he watched this whole ordeal go down.

you unfolded your arms, sighing softly. “go train now, 40 push ups each please.”

you swore nobara’s eyes popped out of their sockets when you said that, her hands clenching both of the boys shoulders in agony.

“i’m going to die, why did you ever suggest this you idiot!” nobara started scolding yuji whos jaw was currently dropped to the floor at her words and yours.

“ME?! YOU SUGGESTED IT TOO!”

“I DID NOT.”

megumi groaned, dragging the two of them out of the room as you rubbed your forehead. you moved towards your boyfriend at the sound of the door slamming shut much to your dismay.

flinching at the sudden quietness and no longer loud teenagers echoing off your wall’s, you looked at your boyfriend. normally, he’d be acting the same way as them but he knows you don’t need that right now.

“they’re a lot, hm?” satoru hummed while pulling you closer, you slouched against him.

“sometimes they’re too much.”

“yet, sometimes you need them to take your mind off things. they got you to stop doing your paperwork for at least 4 hours.” he grinned as you looked shocked and worried at the same time.

frowning, you snuggled against him, his infinity being off just for you.

“i hate people. sometimes.”

“oh i know, don’t know how you put up with me!”

you chuckled, looking down and noticing the 3 bags of sweets on the floor. satoru was so thoughtful, he showed his love in the simplest yet most extravagant ways.

he grounded you, kept you from losing your mind. being by his side meant a life full of laughter and sweet moments, despite your jobs. you wouldn’t trade him for the world (or your students).

“you’re the only exception, satoru.”

-

a/n: bye wtf is this help. this is awful but whatever i miss my children bring them back gege.

[arminsumi]

SAKURA.

𝐆. 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 — 五条悟 ⋅ fem reader

NOTE: i really liked this idea and merged it with my little daydream of Gojo being in his clan and meeting you in a small village (like before he moved to the city or something) and tweaked it just a lil bit if that's ok!! i hope i delivered, and mwa ty for your request lovely anon i hope i got it all right, enjoyyy 💐

REQUEST: Can you pls write gojo who gets the Hanahaki disease cause of reader and gojos condition worsens so to keep the strongest alive the higher ups set up an arranged marriage with reader (her mission is to love gojo so he doesn’t die but she is defensive and uncooperative at first) but then she warms up to gojo (he does everything to make her happy) and they both live happily ever after 😭💕

SUMMARY — you meet a boy on a Taiko-bashi as a child. Little did you know, he was the prodigal son of the Gojo clan, and you would be married into that family to save his life.

WARNINGS — heavy angst to fluffy fluff, he steals ur first kiss, domestic life with ur kid Megumi at the end <3 😭, unrequited -> requited love, arranged marriage, quite a lot of blood/bloody flower mentions, disease/afflicted with coughing spells (see about the fictional Hanahaki disease here. Basically u cough up flowers and/or throw up full flowers if it gets life-threatening), poor boy almost dies, there’s a scene where it’s insinuated that he throws up a full flower, some teasing/playfulness yk the usual you'd expect from gojo, lmk if i have missed a warning thank u

WORDCOUNT ≈ 4.3k

PLAY ME ♪ bouquet — Ichiko Aoba

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 — サクランボ ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

When you were seven, a boy a few years older than you – perhaps two or three – passed you by on a Taiko-bashi in a small village. You remember him as the boy with peculiar eyes and white hair who looked back at you on the bridge. In your eyes, it was a very ordinary encounter with a very extraordinary looking stranger.

But in his infinitely blue eyes, there was ingrained a more meaningful and vivid memory of that encounter. He held it very close to his heart. When you and he made that brief eye contact as he looked behind his shoulder, slowing at his mother’s side, he felt a windswept, lovestruck feeling come over him. He batted his pretty lashes at you and stopped walking for a fleeting moment, as if captivated, and then went his separate way with the image of your face burned into the forefront of his mind. His kimono fluttered as he tended to walk in a gliding manner.

When you were fourteen, the same encounter happened again. A familiarly pale face with barely grown-in features looked back at you – his whole body felt a twinge of excitement. He only took one small moment to look at you and yet knew you were the same girl he saw as a child on this very same bridge.

Years went by, and the two of you kept encountering each other at peculiar times in your lives at that same bridge. Neither of you spoke to each other once, well, you didn’t say a word – but he uttered a few boyishly desperate greetings and even bowed as he glided past you to try and get your attention. If only you would have stopped for a chat, the poor boy would have given anything for that.

In some way, it felt like the two of you knew each other, though it was only your eyes that ever talked.

Come your eighteenth birthday, you were burdened with awful news. You were to be married to a man you had never met – someone from the Gojo clan. That person was apparently fatally sick with a disease you had scarce knowledge on. You asked your friend at the time, her name you’ve long forgotten by now, about Hanahaki and all she said was;

“Your lover is going to spit flowers in your face.”

You scrunched your nose up in disgust and confusion at this. A very silly image formed in your mind about the disease ever since your old friend had said that – all you could imagine was your future husband spitting saliva-wettened, half-destroyed flowers at your face.

The Gojo family and your family had always distantly known each other, hence all the visits to the village that they resided in. Your marriage to Gojo was long-debated throughout the years – yet neither you nor him knew anything about it. Neither of you prospected marriage, you were just the two strangers that passed each other on the Taiko-bashi every time the Sakura was in bloom.

The first time you and the son of the Gojo clan were introduced, it had already begun with a rocky start. You walked in when he had been overwhelmed with a coughing fit, and you were hushed back outside. The shoji door smacked shut behind you, and you heard sickly coughs piercing through the translucent sheets. When your future husband stopped coughing, and the blood and petals were cleaned up, you were brought back into the room. There were both your families and some important-looking officials in the large room, all formally sat on the tatami mats with mixed expressions. His mother seemed delighted at the sight of your face – but not more than her son.

Gojo Satoru, an eighteen-year-old at the time, with usually such a loud mouth and good joke up his sleeve, was rendered speechless when you had walked into the room. He analysed and absorbed every feature that made up the image of what he thought was the most charming and alluring creature ever to exist. Definitely a creature, he thought as you formally bowed with him, because no human could possess such an ethereal beauty.

Satoru was intrigued by you from your encounter on the Taiko-bashi, but when he was finally introduced to you he was utterly captivated.

The reasons and conditions for your marriage with the Gojo clan’s prodigal son conflicted with your strong beliefs in love and romance. You had rather aggressively told the poor boy your opinions in the days leading up to your wedding.

“I always thought,” you emphasized with a snotty tone, yet he listened to you like one would listen to the tranquil flow of the river under the Taiko-bashi, “that I would marry someone I loved, and not be forced to love…” you seemed so disappointed with how your life was turning out, that he couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for you.

“I’m a positive person, I have faith that you’ll fall in love with me in no time.” He said cheekily and winked at you. You felt very taken aback by such straight-forward flirting – you must understand, no boys in your village ever did that. They were very proper, even reserved.

He was almost charming in that instant, but then he added; “Who wouldn’t fall in love with me?”

At the time he was so full of himself that you could hardly believe there was space for any petals in his body. But there certainly was – when you left him alone in that room and stormed off, appalled by his conceit, he clutched the side of the door frame and coughed up little pink petals – enough to comprise three whole flowers.

It started worrying him, a few days before the wedding, when he started coughing more often. And not just that, but he started coughing up more petals than he had ever in his life. The peculiar disease had started during a time in his childhood that was coincidentally very close to the time he first passed you by on the bridge.

The night before the wedding, he laid in bed and brooded. And he was never the type to brood – he let life happen and moved on relatively easily. But he brooded, and brooded until it felt like he sunk so deep into his futon that he became one with it. The ceiling blurred.

What was going to happen if you didn’t fall in love?

That thought scared him so much that he violently drove it out of his mind and replaced it with an ideal daydream; he envisioned you and him cuddled up, bracing each other’s bodies, and melting into each other like real lovers do. He imagined you would be warmer than him, with that cool touch he had, and you would also stroke his hair. It was very fluffy, he made sure to point that out to you several times – but you never took a hint.

On the day of your wedding, he snuck to meet you just before the ceremony. He was crouched in the garden outside the room that you were preparing in. It’s then when he heard you voice your feelings to whoever it was helping you get ready.

“How can I love a stranger? And anyways, he is so full of himself, I can hardly believe there’s space for any flowers in there. There’s nothing I like about him.”

“Oh, Y/n, you have yet to learn about him. I’m sure you will find he’s rather charming. He is the pride of the Gojo clan, after all – he has the Six Eyes and Limitless. He’s the strongest, he’ll always be able to protect you – ”

It sounded like the woman talking about him was your mother, with how she praised him so much. She was right, Gojo thought; he could protect you from anything.

His expression was grave after hearing your thoughts. But he put on a lightened smile and masked his slight heartbrokenness when the rituals and main ceremony commenced.

It was a very formal, rigid ceremony. Gojo looked up at you sadly a few times, wishing you would spare a glance. He brooded on the idea that you’ll never love him like he loves you, and then a sickening, ticklish feeling spread in his throat and just as the closing ritual ended, he burst into a coughing fit – one of his worst yet. A bit of blood dribbled out his flushed lips, contrasting against his pale skin. Of course you were concerned – and of course you felt the urge to help and comfort him. But those feelings were purely out of the goodness of your heart.

Friends share love. But even when you and Gojo developed something resembling a friendship, it didn’t alleviate his disease. It was embarrassing sometimes, to realize that you were failing at the one thing you had to do; and that was keep him alive.

He was quite genuinely dying for you to love him.

Yet you refused to be in the same room as him for too long. Your mother had to encourage you. Eventually, both his family and your family worked together to make sure you and Gojo spent adequate time with each other. They organized meetups ranging from fancy nights-out to long voyages to weekend sleepovers. It was comical, how your families got along more smoothly than you and Gojo.

It’s the spring of his nineteenth birthday when the thought of kissing you becomes a reality. Well, it doesn’t go as he planned it. See, Gojo envisioned that kissing you would solve all his problems – he thought he could infect you with his love, somehow worm into your heart through a passionate kiss.

So when you and him sat for tea in a spacious room, kneeled side by side on the tatami mats, he went in for a kiss. You were distractedly straightening out your kimono when suddenly a pair of inexperienced, boyish lips crashed onto yours.

“Mmf!” you reacted with sheer shock – why on earth was he kissing you? The audacity, he had just insulted and made a mockery of you with a cheeky, playful attitude.

“Satoru!” you whined into his mouth.

He cupped the back of your neck and partly entangled his hands in your hair. White lashes sat pretty as he closed his eyes and glided his wettened lips over yours. For the briefest moment, you let yourself enjoy his kiss. But suddenly, as if your principles of love kicked back in and stomped on the moment, you shoved him away.

And a hard shove that was, he fell out of balance and landed on the mats with his elbows, a look of shock and surprise twisting into comedy.

“Playing hard to get?” he joked. His heart sunk ever so slightly at your rejection.

“You can’t just kiss a girl!”

“Come on, I’m your husband – if I can’t kiss you, then who is allowed to?” he asked.

You looked furious, like you were about to bite him, so he slowly started backtracking.

“I just wanted to see if kissing you would – ”

“How dare you, that was my first kiss! I thought I would have a cute first kiss, not a hasty one shared over�� over a cup of tea!” you complained.

His expression changed and he started sputtering apologies. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know – I – ahuh!” he started lightly coughing.

And now it was your turn to feel apologetic, because all the bad tension between you and him brought on another violent coughing fit for him.

“I’m okay.” He choked out, eyes water and face reddened – some blood pooled at the corners of his lips, he instinctually brought his hand up to his mouth to catch any that dripped.

You rushed and kneeled over him, placing a much-needed soothing hand on his shoulder. “Satoru, I’m sorry.”

He tried to muster up a joke to lighten your worry, “H-hey, since when d’you call me S-Satoru? I thought it was strictly Go-jo.” he was interrupted by more coughing.

You comforted him, until his parents came into the room. They seemed disappointed with you, but masked it.

The night fell heavy all around the Gojo home. The barren Sakura trees’ branches subtly shook in the wind. A storm was approaching.

“Hey, sweetlips.” Gojo slipped into your room as you were in the middle of preparing for bed. “There’s a big storm comin’, if you get scared you can sleep with me.”

“Are you out of your mi-” you shut up when a sudden, extraordinary crack of lightning sounded and shocked you right out of your skin.

Gojo had a little laughing fit at your overreaction. He was completely calm at such a loud noise. Of course he was.

“I’m not sleeping with you!” you muttered angrily, but then you saw the dejection on his face – no, rather, you saw the way he tried to conceal it, and you felt bad.

Maybe tonight is the night you’ll try harder, you thought.

“Okay, well, don’t cry like a wimp if the thunder scares you ‘cause I won’t come running to soothe you.” He said and left you alone.

When he walked down the hall, his fingers grazed over his lips. All he could think about was how blissful it felt to kiss you, even if you did reject him. And he was your first kiss – maybe it was wrong to smile over that, but he couldn’t help himself as he climbed into the comforts of his bed.

A violent rainstorm engulfed the village.

As the lightning got more frequent and more terrifying, Gojo scrunched up his shoulders and half-hid his face under his blanket. He felt like a boy again, as scared of the thunderstorms as he was when he was seven years old. His pretty upturned nose peaked over the blanket, eyes glistening with tears as he recalled the fateful day you and him encountered each other at the Taiko-bashi.

He held onto that memory with a death grip. No one else ever had the honor of being so close to his heart, not even his best friend who he had made at Jujutsu high when he was seventeen. No, that heart of his he kept reserved for you. He thought to himself that night, while curling up on his side in pain, that even if he dies, at least he would die having been able to love you – albeit without reciprocation.

And then it happened. He shot up and let out a violent cough, and began spluttering over his white blanket. The thunderstorm was so violent that it muffled even the violent coughing in his room. His head felt like a dense ball of tension.

Unrequited love for many boys his age was heartbreaking, but not deadly. He morbidly laughed at that fact, observing the flower that he had thrown up onto his blanket, soaked in his blood.

He was dying.

He defeatedly closed his eyes, breathing through his blood-glistening mouth. His chest lightly heaved. “Y/n, you’re really gonna be the death of me… ah, oh well. That’s okay.” He muttered madly to himself and fell back onto his bed, too weak to stay awake any longer.

It was probably the work of the universe, but you floated down the unlit hall and tapped at Gojo’s doorframe. “Are you awake? Satoru?” you called his name in a gentle murmur.

There was an eerie silence. You slid open the door and caught a glimpse of bloodied sheets and a mangled-looking flower.

“Satoru!” you rushed over to him, stirring him awake with a harsh shake on his arm. “Satoru? Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

He groaned weakly – you felt a small relief. He wasn’t dead, though he really looked pale enough to be. His cheeks were flushed, his lips cracked and dry with residual blood.

Not a word you spoke sounded coherent to him though it was, all he heard was the soothing qualities in your voice. Though his vision was blurred, he knew it was you, because he felt the familiar air and scent of you.

He felt a strange sort of alleviation when you cupped his cheeks, murmuring something. Oh, when did he end up in a doctor’s room, laid on a patient’s cot? Weren’t you and him just in his bedroom at night, during a loud thunderstorm?

All he recalled was that you held his hand and squeezed it for a long time, while you were travelling somewhere. He remembered feeling your comforting presence each time his consciousness stirred.

“Have I died and gone to heaven?” he chuckled jokingly, feeling your lips press to his forehead.

“Huh?”

“Probably dreaming…” he muttered to himself.

“Satoru, you’re not in heaven you’re at Doctor Tanaka’s home.” You told him.

He pinched his eyes shut, overwhelmed by his afflicting sickness and Six Eyes.

“I’m so sorry…” he heard you speaking in a more tender voice to him than you ever had before. He felt the pressure in his chest lessen as you spoke, “… I was going to come to you because the thunderstorm scared me… no, actually, because I wanted to be with you. I felt this overwhelming urge to be at your side, and I don’t know why. Satoru, I’ve been such a fool. I’ve been such a scared fool, fearful of loving a stranger. Or, no, I guess I’ve feared loving someone I’m not supposed to be loving. You’re so special I feel driven away by it. But I promise I won’t flee from your love anymore, Satoru – I love you, and I’ll express it as much as I can in this feeble human form. The rest of our love will happen in the stars, after we die, I guess.”

He opened his eyes. It felt like the burdening fog that had been plaguing him since he was a little boy on the Taiko-bashi finally cleared. Everything felt fresh and sharp, and good and properly comforting. It felt like he had woken up from a long dream or arrived home from a harrowing journey through the landscapes of his mind.

“So you can be good with your words.” Was the first thing he said, and that was such a Gojo response that you knew he was okay.

“How do you feel?” you asked him, peering down at him.

He groaned and stretched and shifted around, fussing dramatically.

“I feel…” he began, and looked over at your lips. “Like I deserve to be kissed.”

“Oh, shut up you…”

He pouted. “Okay, ‘guess the kissing can wai- mmf!”

You kissed him very quickly and recoiled from shyness. His lips were divine.

He shot up out of the bed like he couldn’t just believe what happened.

“Wow.” He blinked at you. “So gutsy, you know you’re not allowed to kiss your husband!” he joked.

“You are such a – ”

“ – good kisser?”

“An idiot!” you giggled, genuinely enjoying his company.

The two of you bantered, basking in the newfound feeling of shared love. When the doctor came back in, he was preparing to witness the worst – but he was utterly surprised and at a loss for words when he walked in on you two smiling and laughing.

And it was the talk of the village. Neighbors gossiped, “Did you hear that Gojo Satoru is cured?” they spoke amongst themselves, “I heard! Apparently it’s a very romantic love story, did you read the newspaper article?”

You and Gojo drifted down the Taiko-bashi, together. He squeezed your hand when you set foot on the bridge, the cool skin of his wrist tickling your inner wrist as they pressed together.

“What are we doing here?” you asked him confusedly.

“Don’t you know this place? It’s the place we met.”

“Ooh, you’re romantic, huh?” you smirked.

A small blush crowned his cheeks.

“I’ve been romantic since the start.” He defended.

“What d’you mean! You were so cheeky!” you kicked his leg.

“I was quite a menace, I’m sorry – not sorry – kidding, kidding, I am sorry.”

He looked at you with a cheeky smirk, knowing damn well what you were talking about.

“You know…” he began, looking over the bridge at the river flowing beneath and admiring how the stream carried the Sakura blossoms. “Whenever I used to get coughing fits – bad ones – I would soothe myself with the memory of when we first met here. I can still recall the kimono you wore, and the Sakura that got tangled in your hair – and I thought about…” he came closer to you, speaking with a charming allure, “How badly I wanted to pluck that flower from your hair.”

You blinked up at him. How could such romantic words come out of him? You didn’t know how to respond.

“Ooh, did I make you shy?” he teased.

“No…”

“I totally made you shy. That’s so sweet. Are you blushing?” he giggled, putting his cool palm up to your cheek to feel the heat, “Oh, you’re blushing blushing. You could burn my hand right off.”

“Satoru!” you giggled.

“Ah!” he clutched his chest dramatically when you said his name, “Don’t say my name like that! I have a wife.” He joked.

“You are ridiculous!”

He gave you a big, toothy smile. “But you love me for it.”

“I do.” You tell him, and though he’s heard it many times after that day, each time feels like the first time you’re saying you love him.

“Gimme a kiss.” He asks.

“Come get it.” You tease, slowly backing away off the bridge.

“Seriously? You’re gonna make me chase you for a kiss? I’ve coughed up petals because of you, ‘n you’re gonna do me like this – heyyy! Get back here!”

Running into the petal-littered streets like carefree kids felt so freeing and exhilarating. He felt like he was catching up on all the fun he missed, if only you would have lived in his village as a child or visited more often.

“Got you!”

“Ah! Jesus, you scared – mmmf!”

He didn’t hesitate to take a much-needed kiss from your quivering lips. He kissed you so hard that you felt dizzied, lost for breath, rendered speechless. And he relished the love pouring out from you.

You stood there being kissed by your husband in a quaint alley, standing tiptoed on the Sakura blossom-littered ground to meet him halfway. Gojo’s heart thumped at the smallest things, like the fact you were standing on your tiptoes – that was the cutest thing in the world to him.

The two of you took a break for breath, and silently admired the Sakura blossoms as they drifted, being swept away by the wind.

Gojo looked at them, and looked at you, and thought of everything that had happened up until now. He was about to say something lovey-dovey but blurted out a dumb joke instead just to hear your laugh.

“Damn, I used to cough up those things.”

You laughed, “Your jokes aren’t good, Satoru.”

“But you laughed.” He said cockily.

“Shut up or I will never kiss you again.” You playfully threatened.

“You don’t mean it.” He tilted his head at you. You cracked a smile.

On the walk home, he kept calling you various nicknames – all flowers.

That day became a cherished memory of the past as the two of you weaved your way into proper adulthood. And the nicknames followed; he went through the whole flower alphabet, even the bizarrely named ones, even the Latin root names. When he wanted to annoy you, he’d call you prunus subgenus cerasus.

Now Gojo fusses around the living room of his tiny Tokyo apartment, preparing food for a little boy of the name Megumi. The day is full and busy, but any second he can get with you, he relishes.

“My tulip, 'gimme a kiss.” He asks.

“Come get it.” You tease.

“Ew.” Megumi grimaces, hearing this exchange right as he walks into the kitchen. He walks right back out.

“Gumi, get back here, food is almost ready.” Gojo calls after him, then leans down to try and kiss you but you playfully dodge him.

It always happens like that – he asks for a kiss, you refuse jokingly, he chases after you for a kiss and you scamper away. Like a running joke that’s a callback to your past.

“C’mere, you – ” he finally snatches you up, too needy for a kiss to play around anymore. “Stay right there and let me kiss you.”

He enjoys every second of kissing you, embracing you tight like he’s never letting go. Just like when he first kissed you, Gojo cups the back of your neck and tilts his head to deepen the kiss. It has you breathless, gasping – he’s so alluring that you shudder.

“Satoru!” you scold, “The food will get cold…” you excuse.

“Okay, okay. But you owe me extra kisses tonight.” He winks.

“You’ll have to get them out of me yourself.” You tease.

“Oh, I will, don’t you worry. I’ll take every little kiss I can.” He says determinedly.

He pecks at your lips, savoring the sound and feeling of the act.

“Ew!” Megumi grimaces, and walks out the kitchen just as he walks in like earlier.

“Gumi! Food! Sit-your-silly-butt-and-eat! You rascal you.” Gojo lifts him by the armpits, and tickles him like a real dad.

Megumi is poker-faced at the tickling.

“Y/n, tell Gojo he’s being annoying.”

“Husband, you’re being annoying.” You murmur up at Gojo.

“Am I?” he smiles down at you, giving you another cheeky peck.

Megumi sighs.

“Stop spyin’ and start eating, little lotus.” Gojo threatens playfully.

“Dad. Save the flower nicknames for Y/n.” Megumi scrunches his nose up.

Gojo's face lit up. “Okay, okay. Enjoy eating, I'm gonna go see where she went off to.”

He hurried into the bedroom where you had wandered into and excitedly whisper-shouted “He called me dad!” he gushed like he was the happiest man alive.

© 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄.

[tokay-blog]

Hey, Tokay since Death lost his children and his wife all on the same day. What happens next? Cause he would be going through so many emotions being sadness, loneliness, and guilt to the point where he sobs for the first time.

Hm... Let's just say that Wolf spent all of his grief on the children, as they didn't leave all three at once, but one by one. (The last to leave was probably the daughter, which hit him especially hard)

The she-wolf left after them after a while (when there was almost no white fur left on her muzzle), most likely slowly and painfully, so when Wolf was left alone, he had nothing but apathy among his emotions.

It made him gray and probably just wandered around the world. The other incarnations of life did not want to deal with him ( the lynx, the bear and the stork), so he had only to go to Kaang, i.e. the Dog. Perhaps the Wolf was looking for a way to die, and who better than the Dog to know about it.

(In fact, I'd look at that time period, because as we know, Wolf and Dog didn't get along. And here he just came and most likely kept silent. And the Dog just accepted the guest and started making beer x) ) Though Kaang guessed the purpose of the visit, not sure they talked much on the topic. If they talked at all.

Maybe the old man will just say that Wolf should return to his wife's grave when he is ready - she will be waiting for him.

And the recent sketch was just about the interval when he returned and saw the sprout.

This may be more of a weird fantasy already, but there was even a text on the topic.

Eventually his white pelt began to thin. Kneeling, he became grayer in every way. Until he dissolved into a peculiar blob of smoke, guarding the tree. He wouldn't let anyone near him, forcing him to wander between the three trees. And if you do evil, the mist will do the same. But he will not let blood be spilled near the tree, if it comes to that. He will lead them away, so as not to desecrate the roots that are sacred to him. Will bring moisture as well as living coolness, so that his wife may sleep peacefully in his arms.

It could more like some kind of legend or fairy tale that the same descendant of the Puss in Boots would start telling someone on the street. Like, "no one has seen these wolves for a long time, but my great-grandfather met them personally." And then the story went on, like in some Disney feature films, like the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Actually this headcanon and end of the story of these wolves is probably 2 years old now, but I'm really surprised someone still has interest in them x)

[bones4thecats]

S/O with PTSD After Their Students Pass

Characters: Gyomei Himejima, Kyojuro Rengoku, Mitsuri Kanroji, and Obanai Iguro Inspired By: Random idea that came to mind A/N: You can tell I had the most fun writing Iguro's part. I'm kinda having a hard time writing for Gyomei, but I'm sure I'll get used to his character here soon! Anyways, enjoy! ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Spoilers for the MANGA, mentions of mutilation, blindness, war, blood, death, PTSD, and near-death experiences ⚠️

Disclaimer: Imagine they all survive the final battle (by character)

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Gyomei Himejima ════════════════════════╝

🪨 Gyomei knew how much you adored teaching your tsugukos, especially your deceased-friend's son, Hoshi. And he knew just how strong these young slayers were from you

🪨 You were always happy, praising your students. But, when the battle against the demons ended with the loss of multiple fellow Hashira and other slayers, the trauma of seeing your own student die in your arms, saying how much he loved you, just haunted you

🪨 Your husband had gone through similar pain, as he lost many children back at the orphanage he worked at when he was younger. So, he was an expert at handling this kind of pain

🪨 He would avoid certain topics when you were obviously more sensitive, but he would involve the story of your student time to time. He knew that you couldn't just run from the past, you helped him confront his past, and he knew he had to help you confront it

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Kyojuro Rengoku ═════════════════════════╝

❤️‍🔥 When Rengoku began healing up from his scrape-with-death during his mission on the Mugen Train, he was shocked to see you coming in soon with major injuries on you

❤️‍🔥 He sat up in surprise as Shinobu, Kanao, and Aoi began to wrap up your injuries rapidly, your breathing shallow as the three butterfly women carefully-yet-quickly fixed you up. Your husband was being held down by the triplets while you were healed

❤️‍🔥 It was only when you were stabilized that Shinobu told him what was going on. He was shocked to hear that you had lost your three students to an uppermoon, one of them being your adoptive brother, whom you raised since he was around 8 and you were merely 14

❤️‍🔥 Rengoku was saddened to hear that the barely 15-year-old passed, but he was even sadder for you. When you awoke, you asked him where the young boy was, and it broke his heart to see your face go from confused and innocent to pained and borderline-traumatized

❤️‍🔥 He understands the pain of losing someone close to you, he did lose his mother when he was young. But, due to his tiny-amount of obliviousness, he was rough at helping you with your PTSD at first

❤️‍🔥 Rengoku does get the hand of it in the end, as your pain seemingly lifted a bit after the final battle and the young Kamaboko squad, especially Nezuko and Tanjiro, survived and lived to see more days as humans and not the demons they were stuck as for a period of time

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Mitsuri Kanroji ══════════════════════════╝

💗 Mitsuri was very scared when she saw you get hit by Muzan, and she screamed your name as she got hit as well. It was only a few hours after nearly passing away in each-other's arms that you awoke to her hugging you closely with her one-remaining arm

💗 You leaned into her touch as you remembered seeing your precious student, the only one who survived the Final Selection in years, die at the hands of the now-deceased Demon King

💗 She was beyond sad to attend the funeral for your fallen friends. Mitsuri sobbed the hardest at the Hashiras, the Ubuyashikis, and your student's, she was so close to them all that it pained her to know that they were gone and you both were destined for death in a mere few years

💗 While yes, she was happy you wouldn't go through the mental pain of dealing with grief over your student, your wife hated just thinking of you leaving her earlier than planned

💗 She also is decent with handling your trauma, as she knows how to comfort someone excellently. Mitsuri would find you sitting awake at night, your head laying in your hands as you cried with a blank-face, and she would just hug you, allowing you to cry into her chest

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Obanai Iguro ════════════════════════════╝

🐍 Iguro was surprised to awaken without the ability to see, he could only hear you humming lowly while you ran your hands up and down his arm slowly

🐍 He wanted to know what happened right when he woke up, to which you just sighed and said you would tell him when he was more awake and aware of his surroundings, much to his annoyance. He couldn't see now, what was the point?

🐍 You finally told him everything, from the deaths of Shinobu, Gyomei, Mitsuri, etc. to the way you were injuried. But the thing that shook him up the most was how Mitsuri and your student passed away, dying while holding one another

🐍 Mitsuri always spoke to your student, viewing him as a younger brother, so hearing that the two died next to one another was shocking. And, since his hearing was a but more advanced, he knew almost everything that you would mumble under your breath, leading you to saying 'fuck it' to even trying to hide things from your husband

🐍 Iguro has his own trauma that he still struggles with, and with your own being layered on, it made him give in and ask to speak with the other remaining Hashira, that being Giyuu and Sanemi, and bring them with to talk to the Butterfly Mansion's girls to help deal with each of your struggles

🐍 It brought you all closer, and you all spent your final years being close, bonding over your survival and control you all worked hard to regain over your lives after the hard-earned battle. And while you all wouldn't tell anyone, you would all visit the graves of your fallen comrades to honor their memories, with you and your husband visiting the Love Hashira, your students, and fallen Master

🐍 He also wouldn't tell you outwardly, but he cries almost every time he lays his hand on the graves of his past friends, and those he considered family. Even with his past of abuse, which normally led others to not show emotion in fear of being hurt again, he just couldn't help letting his out while you hugged him and helped him around

🐍 Overall, since he has his own struggles and deals with both of your guys' pretty well, I'd say he would get a 8.5/10 with this

[susiekern]

a/n: this one's for my nanami girls out there, nanami is a simp, y/n is a simp, and honestly girl, same, not proofread obv

y/n is a cursed speech user, when she's saying something in cursive, that's her technique, just explaining

Summary: after 14 years of just thinking, it's time for both you and Nanami to do something finally

word count: 2,940

Everyone who was ever associated with the Jujutsu world knew that Gojo Satoru was the strongest.

But Nanami Kento? Nanami was close behind.

This man went through so many things in his life. Fought so many enemies, both human and curses, that he lost count of how many battles he went through. And never once in his life did he look at someone or something and think, “This is how I die.”

Until he met you.

You were going to be the death of him.

When you first met in Jujutsu High as first-year students, he was stunned. You were one of the most stubborn, most driven people he had ever seen, and when some people would say it was your most annoying trait, Nanami was enamored by it. He saw your stubbornness as a virtue, as you were the one to study and train for hours, even when your body wanted to give up, your mind kept going.

Quickly you became friends, three of you keeping close. And back then, he thought it was everything he wanted in life. Becoming stronger with every day, you and Haibara close by, powering each other to keep going. Then you lost Yu. Both going through it, staying sane only thanks to the other one. Sometimes you’d just sit in silence, no words needed to say “I’m here for you.” Nanami knew you were the most important person in his life. He’d look out for you at every mission, endangering his own life, just to keep you safe. He held you close when nightmares of the night you lost Haibara hunted you. He memorized every little thing you told him, even as small as your favorite candy flavor or how you explained that chemical cherry tasted so much better than the actual fruit.

Nanami Kento thought he’d do anything to stay that way, with you close, even if it wasn’t as close as he’d like.

But then you graduated and went your separate ways. He didn’t try to stop you when you told him you wanted to travel and help people around the world. He didn’t ask you to stay in Tokyo with him. He also never told you how grateful he was for every conversation, every hug, every night you spent lying next to each other, not touching but giving that comfort of company. How much he loved you.

He tried getting over you, lord knows he did. Going on dates, putting himself “out there”, and meeting people even when that voice in his head told him he’d never find someone even close to you. And every time he thought he was close to forgetting how good your body felt in his arms, how your voice took away all his worries, how your smile made his entire day better, you’d come back to Tokyo to take a break. And he’d fall back into this spiral again. 

It was one of the reasons for Nanami to leave the Jujutsu world behind. To try normal life. And for four years, it seemed to work. He declined every invitation for a meeting from his old friends, worried somehow you’d be there and his feelings would wake up. Because they never went away. He was certain they’d be there, deep inside his mind and heart till the day he died. 

But the one thing about jujutsu sorcerers: once you become one, you’re always one. Now, he was back. Working missions, helping Gojo with his students, and spending time with people that (although he’d never admit it) he missed in the last few years. And for a couple of months, it was good. He felt like himself again. Until one day he arrived at Jujutsu High and saw both Shoko and Gojo excited. Looking his way with mischief on their faces, giving him flashbacks from school years, when they’d pull a prank on their underclassman. He somehow made it till afternoon, ignoring both of them as well as he could. He was tempted to ask Shoko what the two of them were up to when she suggested going for a drink later, but he told himself it was probably better to stay in the bliss of unawareness and simply nodded. With everything going on about Yuji, unregistered curses, and Sukuna’s fingers, he felt like a drink or two was very much needed.

And boy, he would need more than one or two. More like a whole bottle.

Cause after maybe an hour of sitting with Gojo and Ino at the club, he felt almost a pull to look towards the front door where Ieiri showed up. And behind her was standing a reason for every night he spent awake, lost in memories. You were there.

Looking as beautiful as ever, dangerous almost. A black dress tight around your fit body, toned after years and years of training and battles, heels that made your legs look incredible, hair pulled over one shoulder, and red lipstick on deadly lips. He knew what those lips could do, and he didn’t mean anything inappropriate. 

You came from the Inumaki clan, a cursed speech user. Although not as powerful as your little cousin, Toge, your technique was why you were a successful "freelancer". You could make people do exactly what you wanted with just a whisper. How many times did he imagine your soft whispers in his ear when he stayed awake late at night? It was embarrassing to even try to count.

“Surprise, Nanamin! Our little maneater is in town.” Gojo grins when he notices his friend’s gaze stuck on your figure. You say something to Shoko and leave towards the bar, while the other woman makes her way to the booth they were occupying.

He couldn’t care less right now, eyes still on you as you confidently make your way through the mass of people. Woman on the mission. And he had no idea how right he was.

You were in Tokyo planning to take a break, a breather, after a particularly busy season. But as you landed in Japan, a bid showed up for a curse user, a man who would fish out single women to first use them and then sell them to other psychos. It was a perfect opportunity for you, you’d get the job done quickly and then spend time focusing on your second mission. Nanami Kento is your main target tonight.

You were over the moon when Ieiri told you he was back in the game, stronger than ever. That man was a menace to your existence, stuck in your brain even all these years after you parted. You spent all of high school almost drooling at every sight of him, telling yourself being his friend was enough. But after every hug or innocent touch, you only wanted more. The only thing stopping you from throwing yourself at his tall, and oh so big, body was the thought of losing him if he rejected you. That’s why you never said anything, staying close just as his friend. Then you left Tokyo to work worldwide, only seeing him every couple of months and hoping one day he’d tell you he was dating someone. You were close to screaming at him to reject you, just so you could move on. But he never did, and you never moved on. Yes, you dated a few people, never staying around for long enough to become something serious, but even then, Nanami Kento was stuck in the back of your mind, invading every lasting minute of your life. It was embarrassing how many times you imagined it was his body on yours when you were in bed with someone. How you wished it was his blonde hair between your legs, his hands on your curves, his lips devouring yours.

You couldn’t possibly know how similar his thoughts were. And how you both decided that tonight is the night.

But first, your actual mission.

It was easy to notice a curse user, his cursed energy flowing around his body, somehow as disgusting as his eyes going up and down women’s bodies close to him. It was almost as easy as getting his attention, one pass in front of him and a shy smile his way was enough. A minute later there’s a drink in front of you and his body invading your space. You act all shy, giggling at his awful compliments, pretending to think for a minute when he suggests going somewhere more private. As he takes your hand in his, leading you towards the back rooms, you take a second to look over your arm at your friends, and you almost stumble seeing the way Nanami’s eyes were stuck on you. You could feel the weight of his gaze, even from this distance. Give me a few more minutes. 

“How about we have a little fun, sweetie?” Curse user, who introduced himself as Nao (fake name, but it meant he had more than 5 IQ points), led you into the private room, one of his hands still holding yours, the second making its way to your lower back, and you shivered in disgust. Thankfully, your actual identity and profession didn't even scratch his rotten brain, because he takes it as a sign of your excitement. It leaves you almost impressed how confident he was in his whole being, as he's not even noticing your cursed energy. Incredible. The room you walked in was dark, the only light being a red LED strip under the ceiling. There was a locker in the corner and a big bed that probably had seen better times.

“Oh, that sounds great.” You decide to keep your shy girl mask on for a little longer, finding amusement in toying with him. Your arms make their way on his arms, and the guy smirks, probably thinking he hit the jackpot. Finding a pretty girl who will happily let him bed her? And hell, for a face like yours, he'll get paid what he'd normally get in probably two months. “On your knees.”

“Look at you, playing all shy when—” His smirk is gone in a second when you lean to his ear and whisper, his body doing as you said. You can sense his cursed energy gathering when he wants to use his technique, suddenly aware of your own energy. With one swift move, you pull a small dagger from a sheath hidden on your thigh, just underneath the dress, and put it next to his throat.

“Don't move. Don't use the cursed energy.”

Panic sets in his eyes when he feels paralyzed, power in his body asleep. There's also a glimpse of realization.

“Cursed speech. Fucking bitch, who sent you?!”

“Shush, shush. There's no need to shout.” You giggle and put the dagger back in its place. “You've done some stuff. Some people didn't like it. And here we are.” Next to the dagger, behind a leather strap, is your phone. Getting it out, you text Shoko, who has your bag. There was no way you'd risk this idiot sensing the energy of a special grade handcuff you had in there, so you've asked your friend to bring it when she gets a text.

“You're wasting your talent, pretty face. If you got into my career, you'd be swimming in money. With that mouth of yours.” Nao keeps talking since it's the only thing he can do right now. Of course you could just tell him to shut up. But it was somewhat amusing to hear how they try to talk you into letting them go, bribing you, or, like this idiot, joining them.

“I'm not complaining. And you know, fucking people's lives doesn't really turn me on like it does to your kind.” You giggle and shake your head.

“And what does?” The question comes from your target, but not the one kneeling on the floor. You turn abruptly to see Nanami leaning on the doorframe, your bag in hand. 

A moan almost slips past your lips as you eye his tall body, lit only by faint red light. He has a black shirt on, sleeves rolled up to the veiny forearms, and grey dress pants that hug his strong thighs so, so well, and you find yourself wondering how good they have to look on his back.

“Help! This psycho drugged me!” Nao had no idea who Nanami was, and it shows when he begs for help, seeing it as his chance.

“Yeah, she has that effect on people.” The sorcerer smirks and takes the handcuffs from the bag, making his way to you and the scum, who now realizes he's done for.

“Okay, enough. Be a good boy for once and sleep.” You tell Nao. When Nanami put the metal bracelets on his wrists, you took a photo, sending it to your employer immediately. “Work's done for the day; it's relax time.”

“You'll just leave him here?” Nanami asks when you take your bag from him and move to exit.

“It's a pick-up order.”

Walking out into an empty corridor, also almost fully dark except for the same red LEDs, you look over your shoulder at the blonde man and smirk, catching how he eyes you up and down.

“You didn't answer.” His words stop you mid-step, and when you turn to ask what he means, you find his body only centimeters away from yours.

“W-what?”

“Cat got your precious tongue, darling?” He smirks, and you swear you're about to die. You lean on the wall to take a breath in, trying to calm down your racing heart. Failing miserably, because it's about to jump out of your chest when Nanami takes one more step forward, and suddenly you're trapped between his arms, his chest, and a wall.

“What are you doing, Kento?” Your question is almost shy, and he can't help but smile, seeing how the maneater, as Gojo and Shoko liked to call you, turns into a hunted animal just because he took the control.

“Something I wanted to do for a long time, dear.” His whisper, warm breath, hazel eyes… his whole presence was driving you crazy. The way his eyes scanned your face, like he was memorizing it. “Please don't hate me for that.”

If you thought you were on cloud nine from his proximity, you were wrong. So wrong. 'Cause when he kisses you, it feels like the world doesn't exist anymore. And for all you care about, the world can go to hell.

Your whole world was wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you as close as he could. A satisfied grunt comes out of his mouth when you're eager to respond to his kiss, your arms making their way to his neck and shoulders. You both don't want to pull away, even when you're out of breath, but when you finally do, your surroundings reappear, and only now do you notice the bag that dropped to the floor god knows when, his messy hair and shiny eyes. Kento leans to rest his head on your shoulder, leaving a gentle kiss there, making you shiver.

“For how long?” You ask after a moment, voice still breathless, eyes closed as you rest your cheek on his soft hair.

“For how long what?”

“You said you wanted to do it for a long time.” A little smile is on his face when you cradle his cheeks and move it from your arm. “So, how long?”

“You had me at hi, my name's y/n.” He whispers, leaning into your touch. Confusion takes over you for a moment, and your jaw almost hits the floor as you realize something.

“You're telling me I spent 14 years simping over you, but you did the same?”

“Simping?” One of his brows goes up, and you laugh a bit.

“Remember when I got drunk with Ieiri during our second year? And how she kept laughing at me for a week after that?” Of course he remembered. How could he forget when you came to his room in the middle of the night, drunk and cold, asking if you could sleep with him because you didn't want to be alone tonight. “I told her I'd climb you like a tree if you'd let me.”

Saying this out loud was as embarrassing as rewarding, because there's a blush on his face that you can see even in this shitty light.

Nanami Kento is blushing.

“I'd let you.” He says after a minute or two, and you can't help but roll your eyes.

“God, shut up and kiss me.”

And he does.

In fact, he keeps kissing you until Shoko appears out of nowhere, looking for you since you were gone for so long she started to worry your mission went wrong.

But it went absolutely perfectly. Both of them.

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Off-Shift

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit 18+

Summary: Commissioned by @dahvampire. Dabi has been working in retail for a while as his day job. He doesn’t put up much of a fight when someone on high asked him to transfer to the Kamino branch and work their returns and customer service counter, but his new boss is a little off-putting. Whatever, between that work and dealing on the side, he’s just happy he’s making enough to rent an apartment without roommates. 

Contents: No Quirk AU, Retail/Mobster AU, Sex Club, Exhibitionism, Mild Sexual Harassment, Intoxication Kink, Dom/Sub, Undernegotiated Kink, Anal Fingering, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Degradation, Oral Sex, Dick Stepping, Premature Ejaculation, Humiliation, Anal Sex, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Dry Orgasm, Creampie.  

Word Count: 13,491

Dabi hasn't had an easy time hopping from job to job since his dad kicked him out of the house at fifteen. He was given the warning that anything he said about the Todorokis to the press would destroy his siblings, but especially Natsuo's, lives and told to live or die on his own. He was no longer the problem of his sperm donor the same way as his baby maker had been thrown out as soon as she produced a good enough heir for Enji to be satisfied with. Dabi hadn't been prepared to be sent away like that, but he also hadn't been about to beg his father for any form of charity. So he had left the house with a backpack of his clothes and a few belongings he got out of his room, and he had gone straight to a friend of a friend's older brother's apartment who sold drugs. He was always looking for something stronger than weed or over the counter painkillers to try and feel better after he'd gotten badly burned trying to set up a firepit on his own when he was twelve. He had only been back up from the ensuing coma and integrated back into the world for six months before Enji decided he liked it better when people thought his eldest son had died tragically. He started selling too and that had gotten him enough money to pay for his own food, clothes, and medicines outside of pain mediation so that he could continue to scrape by. But it wasn't the only source of income he would need if he wanted to have a place of his own when he was old enough to get one, or if he wanted to have enough money for a fake ID to get that place faster. 

So in addition to selling, he got a job at a convenience store first. That was easy enough, he worked the worst shifts, but he was reliable and the consistent paycheck helped him buy better clothes and hair dye. He didn't look homeless anymore when he found out that the big department store down the street was hiring. He probably would have stayed at the convenience store for longer than three years if he hadn't heard that the department store was looking for 'customer service specialists' and given the abuse that people working the returns and complaint desk usually get, their starting rate was more than half of Dabi's hourly rate and that would get him much, much closer to having a place of his own sooner rather than later. He applied, making sure he was dressed well for his interview and speaking with the most polished grammar that he'd had to use in years, channeling every lesson that had ever been imparted to him by his fancy tutors back when his father thought that he was worth bothering with. He saw the hesitation in the interviewer's face when he had looked at him, but by some miracle, Dabi had gotten the job. 

He worked at that store for five years, encountering more violent, vitriolic, aggressive people than he ever did dealing drugs, but he could take it all for the paycheck. Dabi was good at acting numbly to most customer encounters and even better at doing his job just well enough that no one ever thought of getting rid of him if they ever did have need to remove some of their staff, but never being so good or reliable that anyone would ever think of promoting him. He didn't want to be the one who was ever up for becoming manager, even with the pay bump, because he didn't ever want to be the one who had to deal with the worst of the customers who just couldn't be wrangled by anyone else.

He's not sure what exactly he did to earn being called into his manager's office, but he certainly wasn't expecting to be asked if he would be okay being relocated to the Kamino branch of their stores. His immediate answer is 'no' but his manager says that his transfer was requested by someone on high, though he can't get a clear answer about that, and they are willing to give him a small stipend for him to find a new apartment and a week of paid leave for him to relocate when he's done so. He doesn't know whose dick he's supposed to be sucking, but he can't say that he isn't thrilled by the prospect. He's still living in a terrible apartment with two roommates because affording a place all on his own in this area was too expensive for him to manage while also taking care of his seams. But Kamino has cheaper housing options and vacancies that even just a quick glance at show a fair amount of appeal. Cheaper apartment means no roommates and he is going to commit a murder if he doesn't have one place in the world to get away from the constant drone of someone talking to or around him after spending everyday dealing with that shit. 

Dabi finds an apartment for rent over a dingy little bar that has thick enough floors that he can't hear every voice or glass hitting the counter during opening hours, and he makes an offer. It only takes three days before he's approved and able to start the move. The two boxes of his crap and three pieces of furniture that he owns are easy to load up into a rented truck in a single day, and he promptly spends the next six he has off getting high and relaxing in his own space before he has to go to his first day at the new location. 

///

For as nice as his short vacation was, Dabi is still not really feeling it when he has to go in for his first day at this new place. But he puts on his purple uniform shirt, khaki pants, and black tennis shoes and makes himself as presentable as he can before moving his ass down the stairs and out onto the street. It's a twenty minute walk to the store and by the time he's arrived he's about five minutes early from his clock-in time. Good employees are supposed to clock in fifteen minutes early and are expected to get to work immediately, but those extra minutes are not compensated for their pay, so Dabi always lingers until the actual time that he needs to, not giving up a second to the company that he doesn't have to. So instead he finds the employee entrance that he was told he would use around the back of the building and lights up. He hopes that he isn't in for anything too different from the last location, but there's really no telling. Every place has its own idiosyncrasies and he isn't looking forward to finding new rhythms. 

He finishes his cig and then he heads inside. The punch cards are in the same place as they were at his last location and the manager has already put a label on his and put it in his slot. He punches in not a moment too soon as he hears voices coming from elsewhere, other people clearly having already arrived and getting to their stations for the day. 

Dabi isn't surprised when he steps out to the customer service area to find two other people already prepping the registers for returns before the store opens. The sixteen year old girl and blond man with a scar splitting his forehead immediately grin at him. 

"Hi! I'm Himiko Toga, you must be Dabi!" 

"Yo, Jin Bubaigawara."

"Hey. Should I check in with the manager?" They both have the plain white name tags instead of the ones with the little line of gold around the edge that would tell him they were management, and Toga reaches over to a little basket with pens beside one of the registers and takes out his new name tag for this location. 

"Tomura got called away for a meeting with corporate," She tells him. "He said that he'll be back this afternoon to go over any questions with you." 

"Okay, sounds good. Where do you need me?"

Jin and Toga show him the ropes which are almost exactly the same as how things used to work at his old store. The hardest thing that he'll have to learn is memorizing the new passwords to open the computers and he does accidentally default to the old ones a couple of times throughout the morning, but that is a minor thing. For the most part, everything else is exactly the same as it was before and while he never got close to the other people that he spent a lot of time with, it's clear that the two on shift with him now are the best of friends even with a decade and a half separating their age. Toga, he realizes distantly, is the age that Shoto would be now, and he finds out very quickly that she's in a similar position to he himself was at her age. She was a problem child and her parents gave up on her and had more kids, disowning her in everything but name, so she is here as many hours as she can be legally during the week and on weekends. Jin was in a motorcycle accident a decade ago and served two years in jail for it even though he wasn't at fault, and this was the only place that would hire him afterwards. He has brain damage from the crash and sometimes needs them to keep an eye on things he's doing in case his wires get crossed, but it doesn't impede him too badly, certainly not enough for him to lose his job or anything, so that's fine. 

From the stuff they tell him about their other co-workers in this department between wrangling returns and complaints, Dabi gets the sense that everyone who works here is a little bit of a misfit. Mr. Sato only works mornings because he does magic shows, acrobatics, and performs in local plays at night. Magne is a trans woman and while that isn't particularly strange, she tends to fight transphobia with her fists, which includes leaping over the counter here if she has to defend herself against assholes who try to harass her. He's pretty sure any other place would have fired her for that, but instead there is a whole bulletin board in the break room that has the list of banned customers and their faces with their crimes written on it. From the number of them that simply read 'transphobe' underneath, he figures this location is more than happy to lose the business to keep one of their employees safe. Iguchi is the last coworker he's told about and he is something of a reclusive gamer outside of the shop. Apparently he's mixed race and has dealt with a lot of harassment throughout his life to the point that he had been rotting away before the manager, Shigaraki Tomura, had gotten him a job here. He still isn't very good at dealing with the rowdiest customers, but he has the fastest fingers and a nearly encyclopedic knowledge of the entire stock and their SKU numbers so it's a fair trade-off to everyone working to keep him on the easy returns and deal with the ruder clients for him. Plenty of idiosyncrasies, as expected, but Dabi doesn't want to become a good friend to any of the people here. He wants to show up, get his paycheck, and go home.

So when Toga asks if he wants to go out after his shift with her and Jin to a local cafe, he declines immediately. He doesn't need to make himself a lot of friends, and he's suddenly got a decent idea of why corporate wanted to move him to this location so badly. If this is the place that their weird employees who haven't earned being fired go, then of course they would want the one who looks like a horror show to end up here too. 

He doesn't eat lunch in the little coffee shop that is attached to their store, he fully leaves the building and walks about ten minutes so that he doesn't have to worry about spending all of that additional time with his co-workers and gets something from a convenience store. He'll do his job and do it well enough to not get fired, but the less the people around him know about who he is outside of work, the less likely they are to pick up on the ways he makes money outside of the legal avenues and the less likely they are to ask about his given name or how he got burned. Distance has been his friend for years and he's more than willing to keep it like that if he can. 

When he gets back to the store after his break, he finds the manager has returned from his meeting with corporate. Shigaraki Tomura is a few centimeters shorter than him with sickly pale skin, red eyes, a solid frame of muscle, and long wavy white hair that is tied into a neat pony at the nape of his neck. His lips are chapped and he has a birthmark on one side of his mouth and a scar cutting through his lips on the other, alongside a scar that curves over one of his eyes. 

"You must be Dabi. I'm Tomura Shigaraki, nice to meet you." He's wearing a half glove on the hand that he offers for a handshake and when Dabi accepts that, he feels that his thumb, fore, and middle fingers on that hand are too hard. Stiff. Unnaturally so. He wonders how he lost the fingers, if he was in an accident like Jin or if there might be something else going on, but he doesn't comment on it. 

"Yeah, nice to meet you." 

"Toga and Jin said that you seemed like you were settling in fine, but do you have any questions for me?" His voice has a rasp to it that makes it sound like he's been smoking more packs a week and longer than Dabi has, but there's no hint of smoke on his clothes that Dabi can pick up on. 

"Nah. Everything seems about the same here." 

There's a little flash in Shigaraki's eyes as he says that, and the serine smile that comes across his features makes something discontent crawl along the back of his neck. "Good. If you have any questions, just let me know. I'll take care of anything that you might need." 

"Sure." He is more than ready to go back to his work if it means getting out of this conversation so he heads back into the main area and finds that Toga has left for the day and that it's just going to be him, Jin, and Shigaraki. Great. At least Jin is talkative enough to keep the creepy manager from focusing on him once he sees that Dabi is more than capable of keeping up with his work. He makes it through the whole shift without any issues and the slight nod of approval he gets from the manager tells him that this isn't going to be any kind of big shift in his usual routine. 

Getting to go home and to shower and order himself food, being able to sit on his bed and watch TV without having to compete with the noises from other areas in the house means that taking this relocation was more than worth it for him. 

///

Every job has its own weird things and strange routines that show up once a person has been there long enough. At his last place they had the most returns on weekday mornings very close to opening because the store was located closer to the suburbs where stay-at-home moms would get up and come to do their errands after dropping off their kids at their daycare, then they were mostly dead until a few people would run in on their lunch breaks. In the Kamino branch, Dabi quickly finds out that they're busiest towards the end of the average work day, people coming in to shop or do their returns after they're done for the night. They also tend to get their most aggressive customers during the lunch hours making the biggest returns. 

"I want to return this." The large TV is one of the models that he thinks goes for around a hundred thousand yen and Dabi winces just seeing the thing. 

"Okay, sir." He says automatically falling into his script. "Do you have your receipt?" 

The burly man on the other side of the counter pauses and then scowls. "No." 

"Ah, do you have an account with the store? If you did and paid with a card then I can look up your purchase history--"

"I paid in cash. I want cash back." 

"...Okay, do you have an account with us?" 

"No. Can you hurry up, I have other places to be." The scowl on his face tells Dabi this is going to be another difficult transaction. 

"Unfortunately, sir, if you don't have a receipt and don't have an account with us, I can't verify your purchase history and accept this return." 

"I've never needed a receipt here before and I don't want this TV. Take it back and give me my money." 

"As I said, sir, I am unable to do that without you providing proof of purchase." Dabi doesn't cower as the guy puffs up, absolutely ready to start a scene with him. He has been dealing with this for years and short of the guy actually throwing a punch, nothing that he says to him now is going to make him flinch. 

"This is bullshit. I want to speak to a manager." 

"I can get the manager for you." Sure, if Shigaraki has to do this instead then it's no skin off his nose. He goes to the back, these weekday shifts only having one or two of them at the desk as someone else stays in the back actually reentering their returns back into their stock if their packages aren't opened or damaged and they don't have to be zeroed out as lost stock. Shigaraki is doing that today and he goes back to call him up. 

"Got a no receipt return with no account asking for you," he calls into their mini-stock room, the tall shelves too numerous for him to actually spot the other man. 

"Alright, I'll be out in just a second." He hears something get set onto one of the shelves and goes back out into the main area where the guy has taken out his phone and is texting someone, a scowl still stark across his face. 

"The manager will be with you in just a moment." Dabi wishes there were other customers waiting after him so he could ask him to step aside and go back to his own work. But it's dead at the moment and the minute that it takes for Shigaraki to come back out feels like an eternity. 

"Hello, sir, what seems to be the problem." 

The man repeats his request and Shigaraki takes the scanner and brings it around to the item's barcode. He types something into the computer that opens up a new window that Dabi hasn't ever seen before. The number for the item is highlighted on the readout and Shigaraki gives that man the placating smile that Dabi has made himself give so many times since he took this position as well. "It looks like we do have a record of your purchase, sir, and we'll be able to process that refund." Dabi just barely manages to keep himself from gaping as the money is exchanged and the man is sent on his way. Shigaraki waits until he's gone before he turns back to him, "Sorry, we've been doing this so long that I forgot that this isn't part of most other stores that aren't in the same pilot program as we are." He waves him back over and shows him the new screen. "Because this area is prone to having so many no receipt returns, we keep a separate log of anything over seven thousand yen that was paid for in cash. If we have it logged here proving it was purchased, and the item is still in the box, then we'll accept the return." 

"Oh, okay." His store never did that, but he guesses that this isn't really a big deal. "Is there a limit to how many times people can do that?" He knows other department stores only allow three receipt-less returns a year for their customers. 

"No, as long as their item comes up in the system, they can make their return." 

"Okay." 

So Dabi learns that this store does have another aspect that he has to deal with, but that's not really any major trouble for him. He just also happens to notice that they get a lot of returns. Sometimes it's groceries which are the worst because those immediately have to be thrown away and he always has to have Shigaraki take care of that because of their policies on acceptable states of food-stuff returns, and there are so many big ticket items that get returned too. Sometimes Dabi wonders how they don't run out of cash at their counter. Weirdness, but it doesn't stop him from taking his smoke breaks so Dabi is more than happy to just continue letting it all wash over him. The others are friendly with him, but after his third outright rejection, he stops getting invited to a bunch of shit and they leave him be. 

On his days off he goes down to the bar he lives on top of and it is a seedy little thing that absolutely is a hub for criminal activity, and he's happy to introduce himself to a local broker with a gap in his front teeth. He tells him that he used to run drugs and that he wouldn't mind some extra cash and that gives him an in with one of the chiller local dealers who doesn't mind if he isn't out trying to move product every day. He doesn't need to do as much selling as he did before just to scrape by, but he likes having the extra security in his funds. 

And on life goes. 

///

Dabi has been working at the Kamino store for five months. Five months and he's used to all of the usual bullshit, used to his new weird co-workers and the different return policies. Outside of his legitimate job, he is usually just sent invites to parties that want something extra available and he shows up when it doesn't overlap with his day job and moves whatever product he needs to for the evening. He isn't beyond indulging usually, but he knows that it's company policy to drug test new employees and he is still waiting with baited breath to see if Shigaraki tells him it's time to be tested. He thinks if he crosses the six month mark that he'll be in the clear, but until then he doesn't want to push his luck. He also gets the sense that Shigaraki is just as weird as the rest of them, always doing his business with that same placid smile that has no warmth or realness in it. Dabi knows the customer service smile and voice are great ways to just make it through the day without losing their minds, but there is something... stranger behind Shigaraki's. Dabi is pretty sure that he's a serial killer or something outside of the store given just how disconcerting he is. But his immediate boss being a weirdo doesn't change how he gets paid so he moves on and focuses on keeping his head down. 

The store, thankfully closes at eight each night and the nights that he does close have him getting out of the building by nine at the latest. He is not looking forward to the holiday season when it comes around because the extended hours will cut into his nightly activities, especially on weekends. Right now, his new dealer has a good habit of texting Dabi what parties are happening in the area and what they might be interested in and Dabi picks up what he needs from his apartment, changes, and heads out, getting into most places when they see what party favors he's brought and usually able to clear out everything he's brought and line his pockets in a few hours, especially if people are already a little too drunk to think very hard about what they're having. He usually sticks around as people partake because it's rare he's ever asked to leave and that means he gets to drink for free himself before he goes back to his own apartment, usually picking up something to eat between the house, apartment, or building. 

This Saturday only differs because he's been told that some big private party is taking place at a fancy nightclub downtown that's located in a skyscraper. It's not the first time that he's had to go to a higher-end place to supply product for rich trust fund babies who don't know what consequences are but who are always looking for the newest designer drugs, and he's been given a few different variations on ecstasy that he was told would go like crazy for the night at this venue. He was also told that the dress code just to be let in was very much something that had to look appropriately nice enough for the area and Dabi absolutely doesn't have anything in his wardrobe that would fit those requirements. 

So instead of leaving the building as quickly as possible on his lunch break, Dabi actually goes to the men's clothing section of the department store and starts to look around for something that he won't mind wearing to the club. His leather duster will be pried from his cold, dead body, but he does pull a pair of nice black slacks from the rack and goes back and forth between a long-sleeved black sheer button-down and layering a body harness he has at home over a white button-down instead. 

"Going somewhere?" He tries not to jump out of his skin when he hears Shigaraki's distinctive rasp a meter behind him. 

Dabi shrugs. "Heard about a club downtown, thought I might check it out." 

"La Vénus or Myst?" Shigaraki asks and that has him pausing and actually looking at the other. Their breaks are staggered so his lunch should be close to ending, and he has a paper cup from the small cafe in his hand from his meal. That, at least, assures Dabi that he's not going to have to shop with an audience for long. 

"...La Vénus, you've been?" 

"When I have the time for it." He says like he's not making Dabi's mind unravel at the knowledge that this guy has actually been to a club. "The sheer one is more the style of the club." He offers with a shrug. 

"What about this with a harness?" He asks because he doesn't want to spend the money to get dressed up and then get turned away at the door with his pockets full of product. 

"Wearing the harness by itself would be more in keeping to the style." Shigaraki tells him before he glances at his watch. "Enjoy the rest of your lunch and the club when you decide to go. If the owner tries to introduce himself to you, I'd recommend politely excusing yourself. He's ... pushy." 

"...Thanks for the advice." He still isn't sure that he can wrap his head completely around what Shigaraki said, but if he's being honest– and what real purpose is there for him to lie when what he does on the weekend after work doesn't have anything to do with his job?– then he doesn't need to spend the extra money. He puts back the shirts, buys the slacks and a pair of dress shoes, and then goes to the cafe and gets a sandwich for his lunch. 

When he clocks back in, Shigaraki doesn't bring up the club again as they get back to work. 

///

Dabi gets off his shift, goes home, showers, dresses, checks that he has everything that was requested, and then he looks up the actual address for the club. It's a forty minute walk and he is not going to do that with the amount of stuff he has on him even if it's secreted away in hidden pockets in his coat. But while he's on the website, so he can read off the address to the cab driver as he loads in, he takes notice of the club policies inside and outside of the 'Play Area'. Dabi scrolls on the website for the twenty minute drive through traffic, feeling his face heat and his eyes go wider as he realizes that this isn't just any nightclub, La Vénus is a nightclub on some levels, a love hotel on others, and first and foremost, a BDSM sex club. It brags about being one of the biggest and most elaborate in the country and it has a fair amount of rules and regulations to go alongside that in addition to the dress code he saw earlier. No wonder Shigaraki said that the harness alone was a good option– 

Dabi's entire brain grinds to a screeching halt as he internalizes Shigaraki's familiarity with the club with the very nature of the club itself. He thought the guy was a serial killer outside of his day job, probably chopping people up and eating them. He did not think that he was instead getting tied up and playing with whips and chains. Fucking hell. What the shit? He shakes his head weakly and hopes that Shigaraki won't ask him about the experience in the first place, and that if he does, Dabi can just tell him he only went to the club area and not the 'Play Area'. 

When he arrives, Dabi waits in a fairly long line of people being checked at the door and gives the name he was told to. He is immediately told to head up to the Play Area for the private party that's going on tonight and feels his soul leave his body. Maybe in the future he'll remember not to just say 'yes' to any job he gets sent on. He heads to the appropriate elevator and finds that the crowd of people has thinned considerably as the Play Area is closed to the public for the night. But he makes it past, ending up in a medium-sized lobby that has a few changing rooms, a last security checkpoint, and lockers where people are expected to lock away their cellphones and any other recording devices, in addition to any clothes that they were wearing over their fetish gear that they might not want to wear inside. There are a fair number of people here who are being checked in but the split between men in business suits and people that he would guess are strippers or other sex workers is pretty significant. 

There is one business man who is lingering at the security checkpoint. He's a middle-aged man with dark hair and neatly kept facial hair, over six feet tall with a solid, muscular build. He speaks to a few people as they enter and Dabi does not like how his skin is prickling when he gets up to the gate and has that man staring him down, a slow, wolfish smile curling his lips. 

"Hello, I don't believe I recognize you. I'm Ryoma Shima, owner of this fine establishment. Is this your first time?" 

Dabi does his best to keep his expression neutral, suddenly grateful for Shigaraki's warning as he immediately feels his skin starting to crawl when confronted by this guy. "I'm here for Takano." That's all he was told to say to get in, the dealer having, apparently, provided for this venue before in the past. 

"Ah, I see." He reaches into his jacket pocket and takes out his phone, opening a spreadsheet and making Dabi step to the side. "And were you able to bring everything that the client asked for?" 

That, at least, helps Dabi relax a little as they start to talk shop. Based on how he said that, Dabi figures that Shima isn't the person hosting the private party so much as renting the space for it. He has the same list that Dabi was given and when he's confirmed he has everything he says he does, Shima nods and then goes on, putting the phone away. 

"Well, everything that you've brought will be paid for in full which you will be able to collect here at the desk starting at two A.M. Until then, you're encouraged to head inside and provide your product to anyone who asks for it. Given this clientele's past history, I imagine you'll be out by no later than eleven, and after that," He gives him that sly smile that Dabi thinks is suppose to be charming but that really just puts a chill running down the back of his spine, "You're welcome to enjoy any pleasures of the club that you'd like. When that time comes, if you have any questions, please feel free to seek me out. I would be more than happy to show you the ropes, chains, whips, whatever tickles your fancy." 

"Right. Thanks for the information. I'm going to get to work." He doesn't hesitate to turn and go through the metal detector, looking back at Shima flatly when the thing starts to scream because duh. But at least the guy just waves him through anyway. 

Once inside, Dabi finds a large nightclub area that doesn't have nearly enough people in it to make it feel the way it's supposed to. There's a server with a big red collar that has bedazzled letters along it indicating that she is staff who is directing people further. He goes through an overly red hallway with big curtained off viewing windows, through a speakeasy-style bar, and then onwards to a room that looks like it was modeled after a strip club. There are booths around the edge of the room, another bar, and a large t-shaped stage at the front where there are already two dancers on stage as an audience fills out the seats. The other 'talent' seems to be everyone who wasn't in a suit, and Dabi starts to make his way around the room. At least now he knows why the split between party drugs and coke was so deliberate. 

He makes his first offer to a group of men who were placing their orders with a server, and once people realize he's the one with party favors he's being called here and there. He moves around the room without much worry, confirming to himself that this is something Yakuza or otherwise criminal business, and that the talent hired on are more than happy to indulge in what he has on offer before making sure that all of the other people present are having a good time too. That, he discovers quickly, is where the similarities to this and the average strip club end, because the clients are allowed to touch the dancers as long as they ask. The entertainment crawl into eager laps and offer services for tips that tell him that they're all hired workers as well, and it's not long until plenty of the scantily clad entertainers are on their knees, or bent over chairs and tables as debauchery starts to pepper the air alongside the thrumming music that Dabi can feel rattling through his chest. He is starting to run low on his product when he finally gets approached by a woman in one of the 'staff' collars. 

"The host would like to speak with you." There was one section of tables, off to the far side, mostly in shadow, that he hadn't been able to get to, and he's not surprised when he's led over there to see who this guy is that decided to do his business in the middle of a sex party. 

He can't say that he's anything other than shell shocked when he moves over to the table and finds Shigaraki sitting there with a few other people. His long white hair is loose and wild across his face and around his shoulders, a deep red lace shirt like the mesh one Dabi had been contemplating over his chest that is far more muscular and riddled with scars than Dabi would have thought upon seeing him at the store. There are... bullet wounds on his skin that have healed over, a rope of scars along his arm, and a deep gash that cuts from one shoulder down over his collarbone. All of those wounds are blooming around or through whorls of ink that cover so much of his body, all hidden away beneath his usual work clothes. The arm with the scars has an ink-smear style wolf and bunny, chasing each other and tied together with a red string. The other arm is covered from wrist to shoulder in a field of forget-me-nots and poppy flowers, a clean white area left untouched on his inner forearm that he thinks might be in the shape of a cat curled up in the flower field, but he can't tell clearly through the lace shirt. At the center of his chest he has a large black circle, some cracks splitting the edges like a hole has been crumbled into his sternum. That strange cool detachment that he'd thought was so off-putting at the store has become something else. Something sharper and more deadly that he sees in his eyes now that seem like they're nearly glowing in the light of the club as he waves off the group of other people who were sitting at the table with him. 

They don't make a peep as they're dismissed and Dabi tries to keep his spine straight and his jaw from falling to the floor as he realizes what Shigaraki must actually do outside of his day job, though he's still not about to write off the possibility that he's a serial killer as well for the Yakuza. "Fancy seeing you here, boss." 

"I see you took my advice." He says easily, and there's a... confidence in him here. Different from the way that he acts at the department store, like his customer service persona. "You look good in that." 

"Uh huh. So am I getting fired or blackmailed?" 

"Why would I fire you?" Shigaraki sounds genuinely curious as he waves for him to sit down. "You haven't ever been late, proved incapable of doing your job, or done anything illegal on the job--" He tilts his head slightly as Dabi stays where he's standing. "You haven't shown up to work high have you? I'm usually good at picking up on that, but you're so generally aloof that maybe I missed it." 

"No. Figured you would drug test me eventually, though if you're throwing parties like this regularly then I guess I can see why you haven't been." 

"Well then, there's no reason for me to fire you. As for blackmail," he shrugs, reaching for his drink, a highball if he had to guess. "You have as much on me now as I do you." 

"You're high enough in your organization to be able to make a problem employee disappear before I decide to rat you out." 

"But why would you?" He asks patiently. "I don't see why we can't continue to work together, and if you don't want to service my parties again, then I'll have Takano send someone else." Dabi doesn't respond for a long minute but eventually he manages to shrug. 

"Whatever. Don't fuck me over at the store and let me do what I was paid for here and we won't have any problems, Shigaraki." 

"I think that sounds more than fair. Enjoy the club, Dabi." 

It's a dismissal and he's happy to take it, moving the rest of his product and then going to sit in one of the empty rooms until it's late enough for him to pick up his pay, making sure to dodge both Shima and Shigaraki when he does. 

When he sees Shigaraki back at work in two days, he doesn't act any differently than he did before, but it feels like there's a little surge of electricity passing between them when they're left alone. 

///

He gets invited back to deal for two more private parties at V on Shigaraki's request, and each time he has a brief exchange with the Yakuza boss before he focuses on making sure that all of his guests have what they want to heighten their pleasure. He doesn't think that he's imagining it when he feels like he's being watched as he moves around the club though. At first he thinks that it's, unfortunately, just Shima doing it. But he looks up a few times and finds red eyes on him and that makes his skin a little warmer instead of putting a coldness in his veins that Shima's dead shark-eyes do. But it's Shima who asks him to come to the club during a theme night. Intoxication night. Sure people already drink in the club, but this night is about indulging in everything and getting consenting subs completely out of their heads so their doms can take them apart. When Shima says it, Dabi's skin crawls, but then he names off how much ecstasy and its variants that he'll want for the event, and Dabi knows he has to pass that along to his boss or he'll be absolutely murdered for missing out on such a pay day. 

So a week later, Dabi is rolling up to V when it's actually open open for the very first time and he gets to see how packed full the venue is on a normal night. It's beyond crowded, people of all kinds packed into every room already having a good time before he's even arrived. He wasn't responsible for coordinating everything, he's mostly just there to keep track of everything that Takano sent here and make sure they don't get short changed. He finds it fascinating that the people who are supposed to be indulging are all stamped with a waterproof, blacklight activated mark that tells staff who is supposed to be indulging and who is not as they enter the club. Anyone who comes in without a partner, or partners, gets the sober stamp, but he overhears that they can go to a staff member and get a new one if they find someone willing to take care of them for the night. From what Shima told him, when he couldn't get the creep to stop talking his ear off, that's so no one indulges first, picks a dom they wouldn't have otherwise, and then gets into trouble. 

"Given how quickly you usually finish your work, would you like a sober stamp? Or do you think you might stay and indulge for the night?" He bristles immediately at the invitation in the other's tone. 

"I don't have a partner, so I think that anything but the sober stamp would be irresponsible and a poor reflection on the club." He says as succinctly as he can before offering his hand to the man who has been stamping people as they crossed the final checkpoint. 

The man glances at Shima, but he does give him the 'sober' stamp before letting him go into the club. 

Dabi focuses on his job then, keeping an eye out to make sure things are being distributed accurately given they do have two designer variants that aren't very widely known being offered by the servers. But overall, the place feels more like a rave tonight, even though people are certainly taking advantage of the lowered inhibitions and copious surfaces to fornicate on. After an hour, he has to admit that no matter how much he personally dislikes the weird vibes that Shima puts off, he runs a tight enough ship, and he doesn't really need to be here all night keeping an eye on things. 

He wasn't really expecting to find Shigaraki in the lounge tonight, occupying one of the booths, a drink in front of him, but his hand glowing in the blacklight with the same 'sober' stamp as him. He's wearing a silk shirt tonight that's open to his navel and his hair is wild again. When he catches Dabi's eye he lifts his glass in invitation. If Dabi were smart, he would probably ignore him. But... it's been a while since he's acted on a bad idea, and he doesn't think the one where he tells Shima to fuck off outright is going to fly as he sees the man spot him and start to make his way towards him.

So instead he decides that the second worst idea he currently has will be the best for now. He goes over to Shigaraki's booth, and instead of sliding into the other side like he might have if he was just meeting up with a friend, he sits right in his lap, his back wedged against the edge of the table, and his chest pressed to Shig's to fit. "Thanks for the warning, but he's still a little pushy for me." 

Shigaraki doesn't miss a beat and his hands curl around his hips like they belong there, his breath hot against his ear as he leans in to speak into his ear, pretending to murmur salaciously. "He's always pushy. He likes to own pretty," he punctuates the word by pressing a soft kiss just below Dabi's ear, and that makes his skin a little warmer and has a weak shiver running down his spine. "unique subs, and he doesn't take 'no' for an answer. But I can keep him away from you, firefly." 

"Firefly?" He asks, trying to focus as Shigaraki takes this little distraction further than Dabi expected him to. His hands move up from his hips to his waist, his flesh thumb stroking his skin as red eyes drag over him hungrily. Dabi has gotten in the habit of wearing his leather pants to V, along with whatever harness or body jewelry he has lying around. Today he just wore a set of waist chains along with one of his shorter leather jackets that is starting to feel sweltering as Shigaraki's eyes devour him. It's different from the way that anyone else has ever looked at him before, definitely different from the way that Shima does that makes his skin crawl. 

"Mmhmm, pretty, ethereal, hard to catch, but worth holding when you do." 

"Line like that ever worked on anyone who doesn't know that you could fire them or have them killed?" He asks. 

Shigaraki smiles at him. "I'm not going to fire you or have you killed if you turn me down, baby boy." He leans in closer, his nose brushing Dabi's, "I'll just be disappointed if you don't let me show you that you can have such a good time here with the right partner."

It's a reassurance, but not the best kind. No matter what Shigaraki says, he can destroy his whole life if he really wants to, and they both know it. Dabi isn't sure if he can trust him, but the fact of the matter is that he trusts the monster he knows more than the one who has been stalking him around the club. He has seen Shig taking apart people when he has his private parties. He's usually good to them, checking in, making sure they are enjoying themselves too. He would rather that than the guy who thinks he can just take anything he wants because he already owns the venue. 

"Is everything alright here?" Shima asks as he approaches the table and Dabi makes his choice. He plasters himself against Shigaraki's chest and wraps his arms around his neck. 

Shig answers for him, not looking up at Shima. "Everything is perfect. We just need a new stamp here and something to help my sub loosen up for the night. I think it's about time my pretty baby put on a show." 

Dabi's face heats. He's never done anything sexual in front of other people before and he thinks that being high is probably the only way he's going to manage it without getting so embarrassed that he tears off his own skin. 

"Right. Of course." There is nothing even remotely polite or charming left in Shima's voice when he responds, obviously giving up on that now that Dabi has made it clear that he has no interest in giving him what he wants. But he does leave without a fuss and a moment later one of the servers comes over and uses an alcohol pad to wipe away his 'sober' stamp and give him the 'indulging' one instead. Shigaraki lets him pick which pill he wants out of the three neat rows of little baggies lined up on her tray and he opts for one of the newer strains that he hasn't tried yet but that he's heard give a better head high than some of the others. If he's going to try new things tonight, then he might as well not go halfway about it. 

Shigaraki takes the bag from him and takes the little pale pink pill out of the baggie and says, "You can change your mind, firefly." When Dabi doesn't move from his lap he adds, "You know all of the safe words for the club?" 

"Going to give you one now if you don't stop stalling and get on with this, Shigaraki." 

He's not expecting the other man to pinch his side, and he gives an indignant squeak as he startles in the other's lap. "You're going to address me as 'sir' or 'Tomura' when I have you like this, Dabi. And you are going to behave and be clear when I ask you what you want so that we can play together safely, or we won't play at all." 

"Fucking, fine. Come on." 

"I want to fuck you, pretty boy, right here. I want you floating and needy. I want to see you shaking and whimpering because you're so close and you know that you have every eye in the room on you." Shigaraki says every word so deliberately, with so much heat, and no one has ever spoken to Dabi like that before. He's left trying not to tremble in his lap embarrassingly quickly. "Do you want that too, firefly?" He asks so easily. 

It feels much harder for Dabi to manage to nod his head and when Shigaraki smiles at him, slow and sweet, he sees the predator behind his eyes moving closer. He brings the pill to Dabi's lips and he opens his mouth for it, letting the other put it on his tongue. "Good. Don't disappoint me, or I'll have to give more serious thought into punishing you." 

Dabi swallows the pill dry, something he usually doesn't have any trouble with, but this time it's hard because his whole mouth goes dryer at Shigaraki's words. He really could make his life a living hell if he wanted, and that doesn't have any right to make his skin feel so warm, but it does. "I'll be a good boy, sir." He promises immediately, pressing himself tighter to the other's chest. 

"You're going to prove that to me, sweetheart." Shigaraki tells him, letting go of his waist and leaning back to rest his arms along the back of the booth, looking every inch like the mob boss that he is. "And you're going to start by stripping for me. I want to see every inch of you, pretty boy." 

Dabi's skin prickles with a sharper embarrassment. Full nudity is allowed at the club, but he's never been that exposed in public. The idea of being completely on display for any one of the hundreds of people here to see makes... his blood feel warm in a way that he doesn't know how to describe, especially not since he can't blame the drug yet. Shigaraki waits for him to comply and Dabi hesitantly slips out of his lap. When he does, Shig leans forward and pushes his glass to the center of the table before he reaches below and unclips the brace beneath with a loud snap, letting him drop one side of the table so that there is more room between the bench and the center. V was made, in all aspects, to make people more easily able to seek out the pleasure they were looking for, but Dabi didn't think he would ever be the one using the extra space and padded floors to his advantage.

He takes off his jacket first, Shigaraki's red eyes locked on him and more of that warmth spilling through his veins as he does so. He has to toe out of his shoes next, taking his socks with him and kicking them into the booth so that they don't get lost. Then he reaches for his belt and unthreads the thick loops. He thought Shigaraki might say something, might laugh at him or tease him, but he watches with that unnerving intensity the entire time and Dabi just opens his belt, undoes his fly and zipper and... strips away his pants and underwear. He hasn't ever thought that he was much to look at, not with his skin being the way that it is, but he sees how Shigaraki's eyes glide along every inch of his exposed body, the waist beads the only thing that he's left wearing. He really didn't know that being completely exposed like this as the sounds of music and the pleasure of others in the club could start to thrum through his whole body and make... his cock start to harden before Shigaraki has even really touched him yet. He wonders if Shigaraki can see how that makes him blush in the low light of the room. 

"That's perfect, baby boy." He all but purrs, lifting a hand and gesturing for him to turn. Dabi turns, letting him see every inch the way that he wanted, and finds that there are other people already taking an interest in what is happening at their table. People in their own booths who are also surveying his body as they wait to see how Shigaraki will decide to use him. 

Dabi thought confirming that would have his skin going absolutely chilled and making him use the club’s safe words to back out of this entanglement, but... if anything, the confirmation only makes him more aroused as he does his turn and then faces Shigaraki again with that same eager anticipation. The other man spreads his legs wider so that when he catches Dabi's hip and draws him in, he can step much closer. His other hand goes right to Dabi's cock, his fingers cool beneath his half-gloves as he cups him and lifts, looking at him like he might be inspecting an animal that he has interest in purchasing. Dabi doesn't think that should have him hardening more in his palm as he strokes his thumb along his underside, teasing along the ladder of piercings there. 

"So cute that you decorated yourself everywhere, baby boy." His voice is lower, but there is a purr to it that Dabi hopes means that he really is as pleased with his body as he seems to be saying for the benefit of the club. "Going to be even cuter when I have you dripping and begging to cum. But you're going to have to earn that, little one. Are you ready to start?" 

"Yes, sir," he agrees breathlessly. 

"Good boy, on your knees." 

Dabi is very glad that the floors are padded because he doesn't know if he's ever hit the floor faster. He already loves to have a cock stretching his jaw, and knowing that Shigaraki's is so big from what he's seen in the club before, he knows that he's going to have sore staples for the rest of the weekend and that he'll be reaching between his legs to stroke himself off at the memory of how he got the pains later. Shig catches his chin with two fingers, lifting his head up to him as he smiles, then his other hand reaches for the glass on the table. He doesn't make Dabi open his mouth for his cock yet, instead he brings the glass to his lips and Dabi opens, letting the alcohol, despite the chill from the ice, burn its way down his throat as he swallows. He doesn't give him one sip. He makes Dabi drink until the glass is empty and Dabi knows that with what he's already taken and his empty stomach, he's going to be feeling the effects of this quickly. 

But he drinks it all anyway, and when he's finished, Shigaraki cups his cheeks in his hands and strokes his thumbs along the seams that curve over them. "There, already starting to look so cute and hazy for me, baby boy." Dabi didn't realize how much quicker the new drug would hit him than a usual dose of E, but the way that those light touches against his cheeks make his whole face feel like he's running a tingling wand of electricity over his skin, so sweet that Dabi's eyes are fluttering shut as he lets out a weak moan, tells him that it's already starting to take an effect. He is going to feel so good when he gets to have more of the other's touches. The sound of his moan has Shigaraki's lips curling up into a smile and he reaches for something. Oh. A server has come up to the booth, offering him the array of lube and condoms that often make their way around the club. Shigaraki makes his selection and then turns his attention fully back to him with another easy, self-satisfied smile. 

"I want to fuck you, baby boy." He tells Dabi so plainly. "But you need to be nice and wet for me first." He tears open a packet of lube and then takes Dabi's hand, pouring the chilled liquid along his fingers. He doesn't think that he would be so enthralled with the sensation if he were still sober, but right now, feeling the icy, slick liquid over his fingers makes all of his nerves tingle in such a unique way that he can't help reveling in the sensation, moving his digits against one another like this could be enough to keep his nerves entertained all night. Maybe it's not a surprise then, that Shigaraki catches his chin again with a smile to remind him how good it can feel to be skin-to-skin as well. "Open yourself up for me, precious, but don't get too excited. I only want a pretty boy like you to cum while riding my cock." 

Just the words have Dabi moaning as he remembers how to move properly and brings his wet fingers back to his hole. The moan that comes out of his throat at the electric sensation of that slickness and pressure against his rim is louder than Dabi thinks he's ever been in his life. He isn't sure anything has ever felt as good as this touch does now and he can't help immediately trying to get more of it. It's Shigaraki's gentle voice that cautions, 

"Careful, sweetheart, not too fast. I don't want my pretty boy to hurt himself. If he does," there's a warning in his tone, "Then he won't get anything else but a spanking and will have to sit here in a cage for the rest of the night while I find someone else to give me what I want." Dabi has definitely seen Shig take multiple partners at the club before, but the idea of him being tossed aside so that he can entertain himself in other ways is something that he doesn't want. He would hate it if those pretty red eyes went and looked somewhere other than him. If those good, firm hands were touching another body instead of gliding down along his neck and over his collarbone, every touch sending a symphony of pleasure singing beneath Dabi's skin as he forces himself to slow down and start to circle his own fingers more deliberately. He makes sure that there is enough wetness between his cheeks that he won't tear before he starts to prod inside with his fingers. 

If he thought that the hand alone was good, he didn't have a concept of pleasure before as he starts to fill himself. It's been a while since anyone deigned to take enough pity on him to use his body, and he rarely bothers to get himself off when he's alone, not able to work himself up without having someone else with him. But if his own fingers could feel like this then he's not entirely sure why he even bothers to do anything else. He should always be pushing them inside, spreading them, stroking along the hot, soft give of his muscles so that his whole body will tingle and ache with the pleasure that is spilling through his veins now. He is moaning constantly, his mouth open with panting breaths as he feels how good it is to be spread and wet. His cock is hard and aching, curved up against his stomach, and he reaches his other hand to it, wanting to pump himself in time with the other touches, hoping that he can make this pleasure reach its crescendo as soon as he can so he can live in that high note forever. he isn't expecting Shigaraki to step on his wrist instead, stopping his hand from reaching to where he wants it. 

"Remember to behave, baby. You only get to cum with my cock inside of you." Dabi doesn't know if that should make him moan so hungrily as well, but he is more than ready to have that. Sir's smile widens. "You want that, precious? Want your slutty hole spread wide and filled up? Do you want my cum dripping down your thighs and making sure that you can't stop feeling how well I stretched you?" 

"Yes, yes, yes," he babbles, his whole body getting so warm. He thinks the words alone might be enough to light him on fire. He didn't know that he could want something so badly. He didn't know that fingers inside of him would feel so good, but not as good as the promises that Shigaraki is making about what else could come. 

"Okay, baby." Shigaraki says so placatingly. "Why don't you show everyone what an eager little whore you're turning into and get my cock nice and wet to fill up your hole." 

He tries not to start drooling all over himself when Shigaraki opens his pants for him, but just the sight of his thick, half-hard cock has him moaning and scooching closer on his knees. The other wraps one hand around the back of his neck, the other around his root, so that Dabi can keep his own fingers pushing inside of him as he opens his mouth wide so that his cock can be fed between his lips. Dabi immediately melts at the heavy weight of him behind his teeth and the stretch of his jaw. He's so big that Dabi's staples might come loose at the edges of his mouth and he wouldn't even care if they did. So long as he can have the taste of his skin on his tongue and the pressure that makes his head feel floaty and foggy, he'll have everything that he wants. He reaches for his cock again, needing to touch himself, needing more of this pleasure that is flowing all along his veins, but he's stopped again. Not by Sir stepping on his wrist this time. No, this time he's earned something more effective as his shoe presses against his cock. Dabi is pretty sure at any other time, he would have been mortified about that, but every millimeter of his skin that is getting touched right now is singing like he's never known a sweeter pleasure. He doesn't even hesitate, his throat swallowing around Sir's cock as he ruts his hips up to grind his prick against the sole of his shoe, just wanting to find more friction wherever he can. The loud moan that tears out of his throat is muffled by Sir's cock, but it doesn't matter. He hears it and laughs, loud and bright at how needy he is. Dabi hears other people chuckling and tutting too as he turns into such a mess as he tries to swallow him deeper and rut harder. He tries to angle his fingers right too, but with the way he's kneeling, he just can't get them to the place that he knows will make his mind melt from how good that touch would be. 

Sir lets him grind against his shoe, but he lets off when he feels Dabi's thrusts growing erratic, when he's just drooling all over his cock because he can't focus enough to remember to swallow. When Sir takes his cock out of his mouth, Dabi tries to chase it, but just ends up moaning even more as Tomura knots his hands in his hair and gives it a tug to keep him where he is. 

"Look at you. So aloof for everyone else, but for me you turn into such a cute, needy little whore." The words are cooed at him like they're giving him the sweetest praise and Dabi is more than happy to let them settle in his body like they are too. "Do you want to show everyone what a good whore you are, firefly?" 

"Please, please, please," the pleading comes automatically. He's used to begging for other people to help him feel good when he manages to get someone in his bed, and he thinks that he'll shatter apart if Shigaraki denies him when his head is so floaty and every nerve ending feels like it's on fire. Oh he is going to have to show so much restraint to keep himself from indulging in this strain on his own when it makes the thought of his staples something good instead of painful. Every point of contact through his healthy and hurt skin is another starburst across his nerves, another place for him to feel and for once that isn't a terrible prospect. 

"Such a good boy." Sir pulls him up from the floor and into his lap, making Dabi take his fingers from his hole so that he can wrap his hands around his thighs instead, making him spread his legs wide as he bends his knees up to his chest so that he's open and exposed, letting Tomura and whoever else wants to watch see how needy he is with his dripping cock and his stretched hole ready to be filled. "My pretty, needy, little boy." Tomura teases. "Do you think you can keep your hungry cock from making a mess if I fill your slutty hole?"

Dabi bites his lip, marveling in the way that his teeth feel against the scared texture and seam that run along his lower lip, but he makes himself nod anyway. He isn't sure if he's lying or not. It felt so good with just his fingers inside, and now that he's sitting in Sir's lap, he can see the other people who have started watching what will happen next. They're watching, some sober, some intoxicated like him, but they're enjoying their partners as Tomura uses his body to put on a show. He hasn't ever had so many eyes on him while he's in bed with someone before, let alone so many eyes turned to him with want rather than disgust, and he doesn't want that to change if he can't keep his word. 

"Feels so good," he doesn't know if it's the combination of the drink and drug that makes it hard for him to speak, or the lingering ache in his jaw from how Shigaraki fucked his throat, but his words are a little slurred when he finds them. "It might... come out." He feels his face go so hot as he is forced to admit that he might go off like an inexperienced teenager, but instead of looking disgusted or annoyed, if anything, Shigaraki looks more... hungry from the admission. 

"Oh, precious," he purrs, shifting so that Dabi's back can be braced against the edge of the table and he can free a hand from supporting him so he can instead run it along his skin and bring back those sharp points of pleasure everywhere their bodies meet. Dabi moans when his hand moves up to his chest, rolling a nipple between his fingers and making his prick gush pre over his stomach. "That's okay. If you cum too soon, I'm just going to have to keep fucking you until your cute cock is sticky and limp between your legs and make it so that no matter how badly you want to, you won't be able to touch yourself again without thinking about how much better it was when I had you speared open on my cock." 

Maybe if Dabi wasn't already floating higher than he has in six months, that wouldn't have done it for him, but as it is, he barely has time for the words to fully sink into his brain before his cock is gushing again. He thinks that it might have just been more pre, but as it happens, Sir pulls him deep into his lap, pushing his cock into Dabi's dripping hole, and the stretch of his head just being so much thicker than his fingers ruins him. Dabi lets out a loud cry as he spills his cum between their bodies, staining Tomura's shirt as pleasure pulses along every inch of him. He didn't even know that an orgasm could feel so good, and Dabi doesn't know if he's ever going to stop chasing the way that his body feels now as it crashes through him and Tomura doesn't stop pushing in until he's completely bottomed out, putting pressure along every part of him and lighting up the nerves that he'd been reaching for fruitlessly. It's too good. Good, good, good, and he is moaning and whining, incoherent with the supernova that is alight throughout every glittering nerve beneath his skin as Sir pulls him close and strokes his prick as he starts to bounce him on his cock. 

Dabi doesn't manage to catch his breath once, pretty certain that he's also started to sob from how good it all feels, but he doesn't care. His hole is full, his cock is hard and ready to give him another orgasm barely moments after the first one has left his body, and his head is made of the softest cotton candy fluff. This is perfect, this is everything as he manages to take in how Sir is still watching him with all of that want still in his eyes, his fervor seeming to spill out through the air and making the others around him want him just as badly. Dabi doesn't know if he's ever been the center of attention like this before, but as he's fucked so deeply, so perfectly, he knows that he's going to want this again the next time he can get it. 

Tomura brings him to his orgasm three times before he spills inside of him, and when he has, he makes Dabi have two more drinks, until his whole body is heavy and floaty, then he lets other people come and try to stroke his aching cock back to life. He can't manage it, but sitting in Tomura's lap, his cum still dripping out of him, and his filthy words in his ear before his hand goes to his cock, is what has him letting out a sharper sob as he reaches one more orgasm, painfully dry, before he begs to stop. He floats so high he doesn't think he would be able to tell anyone how they got to the soft bed he finds himself laying in even if he had a gun to his head. 

///

Dabi calls into work on Monday, still achingly sore after the activities two nights before. He isn't going to have as much trouble remembering not to indulge like that again because he hasn't been hungover like that in nearly ten years and he absolutely does not want to be ever again. No way. He woke up in the bed Shig got for them in the love hotel with the worst headache and cotton mouth he'd had in his life and had just chugged water until he felt like he could manage to even stand to open his mouth to demand painkillers be produced from on high. Thankfully, Shigaraki had provided with a bemused smile, stripped down to his boxers, letting Dabi see the leg sleeves that matched his arm ones. One of a large spider on a web made of red strings, and the other a shark and octopus intertwined in something that may or may not be a fight. All of his tattoos were black and white with ink smears and splotches of red to join the designs together, and he was even more handsome in the early morning light as he pressed a kiss to his sweat-damp temple and had handed over a bottle of painkillers and anti-nausea meds that he must have picked up from a convenience store down the street. 

"I hope you had as much fun as I did last night," he'd said with more sincerity than Dabi even thought the other man could muster. "I would like to stay and see if we could have a repeat performance, but unfortunately I have a meeting to attend this afternoon and I need to go home and change." He had handed him a slip of paper. "I know you have my work number, but this is my personal one. Text or call me here if you want to do more of this outside of our day jobs."

"Never letting you touch me again. You'll split me open." He bitched mostly just for the sake of it. 

Tomura chuckled, "Maybe, but I would make sure that you enjoyed every second that it took for you to bleed out, firefly." He teased, reaching for him through the blanket and giving his sore cock a gentle squeeze. Dabi whimpered, his whole body going hot with his embarrassment at the memory of how Shigaraki had been the only one who had been able to push him past what he thought his body could even give. "I covered the room. I'll see you Monday, Dabi." And he had left. 

Dabi wasn't ready to face him on Monday when he was still so sore, but he sucked it up and showed up on Tuesday. And Shigaraki had just been... back to normal, that placid, distant, serial killer smile that he always wore at the store. He said he hoped that he was feeling better and that was it. He didn't bring up V or anything that happened over the weekend just like he hadn't ever asked about the drugs outside of V either. So things went back to normal for about a week and a half before Dabi had felt out of his mind with the desire to have him again, sober this time so he could figure out if it had been the drugs or the sex that had been so good. Shigaraki booked them a red room and took Dabi apart until he was sore and crying again, and that had put his doubts to rest. 

They kept the fact they were sleeping together a secret at the store, but over the course of a few weeks, months, all the way to a year of dating, they spent more and more time together outside of it. Tomura always told him that he never had to get any more involved with his Yakuza stuff, and he never prodded him about the infrequent way that he would deal on the side. That doesn't mean he's not going to grumble when Tomura starts to slip out of the lush bed in his penthouse apartment before sunrise on a day that he knows they both have work at the department store. 

"You don't have to clock in until nine." He grumbles, promptly stealing all of the other's blankets as he slips from the bed. 

"I know, baby, but I like to be there for restocking." 

"That's not even your department." He whines, shoving his face into the pillows. He was hoping for more morning cuddles and less of his lover getting up at the crack of dawn for no reason." 

"It's all my department, my father is the CEO." He tells him easily. Dabi's head shoots up from the pillow. 

"What? I thought your father was the boss boss of the Yakuza." 

"He is. But he wants the world to think he's a respectable businessman first and foremost. The returns policy is a way that we launder money at that location." He says without blinking. 

"What?!" 

Shig looks distinctly amused with his outburst as he buttons up his shirt, hiding away most of his scars and tattoos. "Of course it is, no store would have that policy otherwise." 

"Wait, so does Spinner know?" He knows everything about their books. 

"Of course. He works as a bookkeeper when I need him to and I sponsor his esports career. Magne and Jin are both excellent muscle when I need them, Toga is shaping up to be a fine assassin, and Sato is a master thief." He explains as if he expected Dabi to have figured all of this out a long time ago. His lips curve into a smile that tells Dabi that he's about to be the butt of the joke. "I had you transferred because I heard about a dealer with a lot of scars that seemed to match your employee ID and because I thought the fire might be an indicator that you were into arson when you were younger." 

Dabi is left gaping at him for a moment, and that is probably what makes Tomura decide to come sit down on the edge of the bed beside him. He takes his hand and presses a kiss to his knuckles. 

"You... never seemed to want to know." 

And if it weren't for the fact that, yeah, he has still avoided acting like anything other than their aloof co-worker for the past year, he might be angry. But even he and Shig don't act like they're close in any way when they're at work. He's pretty sure that none of the others even know they're dating and Tomura collared him three months ago for hell's sake. 

"Not gonna set buildings on fire for you." He grumbles before flopping back into the bed and tugging on Tomura's hand. His lover's eyes soften from their worried look and he crawls over him, dipping his head to press a kiss just above where the soft leather of his collar curves around his throat. "Don't want to know everything, but I want at least a head's up if you're getting in trouble with the police." 

"I'll make sure that you're safe, baby boy." He promises, and Dabi believes him. He doesn't think that anyone in the world will be able to catch Tomura. He's the only one in all of it who is even allowed to touch him. Dabi takes advantage of that now, spreading his legs and arching up against him, his fingers going for the buttons on his shirt that he just did up. Tomura sighs but he smiles at him, so sweet and nothing like the fake ones he wears at the store. "My needy boy." The words are all affection that make his skin warm. 

"Yes, sir." He agrees readily because that means he has hands pushing away the blankets separating their bodies as his lover settles more firmly between his thighs again before he leans down to give him a kiss that has his toes curling against the sheets. 

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[cherryspeaches]

sex, money, feelings, die - Chapter 2

Summary: Having lost everything, you joined the games with no hope or expectation of winning. Despite it all, you found something interesting in #001. Maybe you'd stick around a little longer. Chapter wc: 1.1k

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ He’s awfully obsessed with 456. Since he first caught your eye the previous night, it’s like you couldn’t look away from him. Your eyes sought him out in the crowd from the moment you woke up. Your inability to look away from him is starting to piss you off. The more you look at him though, the more you notice just how much he looks at 456. Gi-hun. You heard his friend yell out his name a few times, consoling himself that he’ll be fine since he has the self-proclaimed winner of the previous games with him. Yeah good luck buddy, shit all that’s going to do to be honest. The only advantage he would have is knowing that people die in here. You had no clue who was responsible for organising this death spectacle but they would have to be insanely stupid if they kept the exact same format and games year on year. Actually, why did they let a past player come back? He couldn’t have run out of money already…What was his reasoning again? Lost in your thoughts, you feel your forehead bump into someone as you all enter the room location for the second game. “Sorry…” you mumble. 

“Ah, it’s okay…” you heard a voice reply. You finally look up to see 120, and Oh. “Pretty” the words escaped your mouth before you had a moment to think. “I’m sorry?” You could see visible shock take over her expression. Curious eyes look back at you, with a bit of apprehension, as though she almost didn’t believe you. “You’re pretty.” you smile back at her. You were being genuine too. She really was just your type, tall and visually stunning. Pity that you were both in here, destined to die. “Oh… Thank you.” she looked away, light pink dusting her cheeks. “I think so too!” you hear from behind you, player 095 chiming in from behind 120. Cute. They would look cute together. You could see 120’s body language change slightly in the presence of 095, showing that she felt more comfortable with her around. An awkward lull settles over the three of you, and with that, you use that to excuse yourself with a final smile at 095 and 120, and they awkwardly smile back. You knew that you made people uncomfortable sometimes. You could never quite say the right thing, or read the room right. You wondered why honesty was publicly held in the highest regard and yet privately it was the swiftest way to isolation. People don’t like to hear the truth as much as they say they like to. Part of your mannerisms also stemmed from you simply not caring enough to put on a mask for people. You were fighting your own battles daily, you were tired and lying to people took a lot of energy. Caring what they think takes a lot of energy too. Things became a lot easier when you stopped caring, or at least when you pretended to stop caring. Guess you still lied to yourself despite it all. The speaker croaked and came to life, spelling out the instructions for the next round. Ah… you had to get into groups. I guess this is where I die… Resigned to your fate, you moved quietly amongst the chaos to rest against a wall. Leaning back, you reached a hand into your pocket, itching to put on your music and to zone out. This is the end anyways right? Might as well go out in a moment of calmness. The risk was too high though, if someone saw then that might be the end of your music privileges. Tilting your head back, you closed your eyes and tried to find the silence amongst all the noise. It’s an old meditation trick your grandfather taught you, a near impossible task but the moment you do find it… you truly did feel something. You heard the chatter amongst the crowd, you felt the frantic energy swirl around you, you tasted the desperation in the air. You followed their trails to find the moment they stopped intertwining.. Oh what’s this? You opened your eyes to meet deep pools of brown, almost black depths. 001 was standing in front of you. Despite everything happening around you, the world turned silent as you gazed into his eyes. They were beautiful, and so deeply sad. You could emotions battling under a tranquil surface of resolve. He seemed to be struggling with something, something that he felt he had to do. What a beautifully complicated man. “Are you just going to keep staring at me? Am I that handsome?” his eyes crinkled into a smile. Not a real smile. You didn’t like how it looked on him. “Yes.” “Yes I’m that handsome?” His tone coloured in surprise at your answer, holding a teasing note. “Yes I will keep staring at you but not because you’re undeniably handsome.” He paused for a moment before replying. “Then why?” “You’re like me.” You responded with a smile. “In what way?” He looked at you curiously. “You wanted to die once too, maybe you still do.” 

Humour left his face. Now this, this is the real him. You see his mask fall off, and you’re given a glimpse into his psyche for just a moment. A darkness filled his features, and he looked at you with such intensity… you suddenly wish you could read his mind at this moment.  

“What did you say?” He asked, almost with desperation. “Somewhere, sometime in your life, you gave up. I have too. We’re just waiting for the inevitable, I can see it, no matter how hard you hide it. Your eyes betray you, y’know?” You responded, never breaking eye contact with him, never blinking. His eyes never leave yours. You know what you said would be shocking for anyone to hear, it looks as though he’s been waiting to hear those words though. When he approached you, all you saw was boredom, and slight disdain. The usual look of someone who wanted to use you as a pawn for their agenda, they didn’t particularly want anything to do with you but you served a purpose. Now he looked at you very differently - hatred for daring to call him out, curiosity for how you knew how he felt, pain… so much pain. Through it all, you could see resignation intertwined amongst all the emotions. You decided that maybe you did a little more damage than intended, time to move this forward then. You use a leg to kick yourself off the wall, and weave your body past his to walk back into the crowd and accept your fate. He made no effort to follow you. You pause for a moment. “Coming, 001?” “What?” “You came over here to recruit me right? Otherwise why bother wasting time trying to talk to me. Let’s go, we have a game to win.” Death is familiar to you, and it’s why you could no longer feel her embrace. Not since 001 spoke to you. 

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taglist <3 : @tizilovetomhiddleston, @scuzmunkie

[panics-side-blog]

Alucard romantic headcanons

Auughauhahahhagaguughggg

Yea, more brain dump that I developed while working. A tiny bit of x reader and a tiny bit just him and how I imagine he would deal with romantic relationships and feelings.

I'm also thinking about doing the same/similar thing just about sexual relationships but we'll see.

🦇 A part of me thinks that he is AroAce another part things that it's just the vampirism that wore him down and honestly I'm more so leaning towards that part considering.

🦇 In his past as Dracula he definitely did have a few lovers (definitely hinting at Dracula's three wives), be it women who willingly wanted to be with him or women who got picked out from their village after his army steamrolled it.

🦇 Yet after the years became many and him seeing nations fall and rise his mind and heart turned cold and the desire of partnership became few. When he saw the first few people around him turn old and die of age or sickness, he fully grasped the concept of what it means to be a vampire and how it would affect him in ways he didn't think of just yet.

🦇 He still indulged in things every now and then but over time he had one too many lovers who died out of old age. Attaching himself to someone became hard and not many want to become a vampire in order to stay with him, so he decided to just give up that part which I believe is also him stripping himself from another part of humanity. To reject the very human way of falling in love and caring for one another.

🦇 Also a part of me believes it's a way of self punishment, someone like him doesn't deserve love, he is a monster meant to shred people apart, to eat the dead and drink the blood of the living, only the moon and night being his loyal companions for many years. A creature waiting for someone who is finally worthy and strong enough to kill him and pierce his heart, love will only make him attached to the undead life he has.

🦇 Now that doesn't mean he didn't have casual meet ups with others in a more physical way but that's a whole different thing I maybe let simmer inside my brain another day.

🦇 As Alucard he fully concentrated himself on work, it was one thing he still was passionate about and actually enjoys. Be it while working with van Hellsing or with sir Integra. It kept him entertained and his mind busy even if he never really found someone who could rival his strength and skills.

🦇 It kept those thoughts away long enough, the screams and begs of the once that get their flesh torn apart by him filling the void for some sort of deeper connection be it platonic or romantic.

🦇 Now, who will be the one who melts those ancient walls of regret, bloodlust and loneliness? Honestly depends, I don't think he has a certain type but he definitely has a few preferences when it's about catching his attention. Be it someone who is utterly human, down to the very last cell in their body, or someone who is pained by their own past, future and present like he is.

🦇 I think if it is a person who has a lot of humanity in them it can go multiple ways. Is it someone who clings to their kindness, who wishes to protect the good in the world and still wants to believe that there is good out there no matter how many atrocities happen? Amusing him for their nativity but still making a spark of respect flicker in him for them to not give up and show their determination for the good.

🦇 A person who has many flaws and complexities in them but still tries their best no matter how many mistakes they make along the way? He will admire their willingness for change and want to do better, to be better no matter how long it will take and how many times they will stumble and fall.

🦇 Or someone who just really gets on his nerves and making his blood boil yet he can't kill them because there is just something in them that makes him want to wait and see what will happen, in hopes he can unravel and understand them? To be constantly pushed by their eccentric nature, making it hard to get their strangeness out of his head like a nagging migraine.

🦇 If the potential love interest is more so the gloom and doom like he is I feel like it starts more so as mutual respect and understanding and slowly becomes something more if neither of them avoid their vulnerability and accept that, despite it all, a bit of company can be a balm for the soul.

🦇 This would be more of a slow burn than any of the others because not only is there one complex person/vampire dealing with a lot of shit but now there are two. I can imagine that it wouldn't be out of reach to think that they only would get together after at least a few years of careful testing of their own souls (or lack there of) and needs. Like two feral animals finding comfort with each other.

🦇 But the most important thing no matter who the person is, is that they will accept every part of him. Even when he shows something that is vulnerable and weak he is still Alucard, he has his own twisted way of showing affection and love. Seeing his enemies turn into minced meat and finding a good rival that can push him is something he craves. His partner has to deal with the fact that there are horrors beyond their comprehension inside him and that certain actions during his murdering (even if it is righteous) can make their stomach flip and the bile crawl up their throat.

🦇 Also considering that me most likely won't fall for a regular civilian considering his line of work, all of the options and for a potential lover have to be tough as nails to a certain extent.

🦇 There will be moments of gentleness tho after a long process of getting closer to each other, he'll hold them close and feel the warmth of their skin, listen to their heartbeat and feeling their breath tickle his paper white skin.

🦇 He'll whisper words of morbid passion, how he would gladly rip his heart out and place it on golden plates for them to eat and taste the love straight from the source.

🦇 Flowers will be placed in their room, some living some dying or already dead. If they have someone they absolutely hate, and he finds time, without hesitation he'll kill them and place their head on the table for them as proof.

🦇 Once they have him by their side there is no turning back, they stay with him for a long while. Vampire love is no joke especially with a man like Alucard, they have a taste of heaven and hell in one bite.

[ginandvodka-riley]

Automatonophobia

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female Reader.

Synopsis: Simon Riley, better known as 'Ghost', an SAS Lieutenant, stoic, intimidating, as intelligent as strong. An unstoppable man, like a shadow stalking at his preay in the darkness, the terror of the enemy. However, even the strongest of the men has weakness, and he was not the exception.

CW: Phobias, hallucinations, episodes of depersonalization and derealization, blood, trauma, mentions of child abuse and sexual abuse, hurt/comfort, mentions of the comic's lore.

Word count: 6.6k | One-Shot.

The intense irrational fear of everything that falsely represents a real being.

He didn’t know where that fear had come from. The first time he remembered having experimented that fear he was just a six-year-old child, his arts professor brought in a replica of Alexander the Great, although well made. It was a simple statue, with a plain, almost sad expression.

He didn’t understand why, but from that moment he felt pure fear, it started as the discomfort of seeing something mimicking reality pretty good, but that at the same, it was lifeless. Little by little that discomfort turned into fear the more he saw it.

The empty eyes, the imperturbable and eternally rigid expression, the coldness of the material, the perfect imitation of someone who had been dead for more than two thousand years.

It was everything, something dead representing life. It didn’t matter that he had felt watched for that sculpture, it didn’t matter about his desire to escape and run as fast as he could.

He should have stayed there and been a good little boy. Enduring a hollow, deep gaze, as deep as an abyss staring back at him with an intensity that threatened to devour him.

From that day on his fear started, and over time He could handle with puppets, mannequins and humanoid robots, although he didn’t like them, he tolerated them, he even could ignore them as nothing.

But statues? He couldn’t stand them, he didn’t tolerate any that represented man itself, not even animals.

He believed that when he grew up, he would lose his fear.

Evidently that wasn’t the case.

His first ray of hope came at sixteen when he began to work as an assistant for the local butcher. He already had faced the death before, in that night when his father forced him to laugh at a poor woman who had died of an overdose. However, now in the butcher he faced with hundreds of animal carcasses, dismembered and bleeding out. The smell of death always filled his nose, and sometimes that smell accompany him even to his homes since he had to carry with bloody limbs from different animals, even though he wore gloves, a hair net and an apron, the scent lingered like a parasite.

Death never leaves without left its mark.

Being surrounded by a lot of corpses and death’s smell he thought that it’d be enough to overcome his phobia, after all, a statue could never harm him, unless an earthquake happened ―which was impossible living in the UK― a statue itself fell on him, there was no way that it could hurt him.

Instead, there he faced animals’ corpses that had to die to feed humanity. Every day he saw those animals’ muscles coming alive because of the electrical spasms still present in the fresh meat.

What a shame that he was wrong on his hopes.

Weeks later of have started his job on the butcher shop and faced daily to the death, he came across with no one, but several statues.

In a weekend, one of those marvelous in which his father left for three or four days because he was so drugged that he didn’t remember where he lived, his mother took him and Tommy to a museum, he didn’t remember which one exactly, he only remembered that the first thing he saw when she set foot inside the building it was a big statue. It was a naked woman covered from head to toe with a veil made of the same marble, with her face glum like she was suffering.

Why the fuck did all the statues have faces of eternal suffering?

Neither the smell of blood that always accompany him nor the hundreds of images of fresh tendons and muscles captured in his brain were enough to prepare him for that terror.

Meanwhile his mother and Tommy enjoyed each piece of art, whether it was statue or painting, enthralled the incredible details of each one, especially the ones of that statue since it was awesome how the artist managed to depict the veil over the woman so realistically.

That’s why he decided to resist the suffocating fear that he felt. It was one of those rare times when, in addition to being free of his father, went out and enjoyed themselves like any other normal family. It’d be selfish of him to ruin that outing just because, according to him, being a coward.

For the next ten or fifteen minutes he had been struggling with himself to stay strong. From the outside he managed to maintain his usual serene expression, but from the inside he felt a black ocean drowning him no matter how much he fought against its wild waves to stay afloat.

He felt like every damn statue saw him as if all of them knew about his fear and were mocking him, underneath those suffering faces he knew they were laughing their heads off. For moments he even could hear their laughs, away and almost inaudible. His body trembled slightly, if it wasn’t because of his self-control, he shook as much as those tendons he saw at work, moving of mere muscular memory. He couldn’t do anything about his sweat, though fortunately, since it was a hot spring day no one noticed, not even his family.

But no matter how much he fought against that irrational fear, little by little he began to lose the battle. The statues’ empty gazes that followed him everywhere he went became more and more intense, more judging, it was like they could see under his skin and flesh until reaching his purest psyche, so raw and exposed. They knew all his secrets, knew about all the times that he had fallen asleep crying for his disgusting life, how he trembled out of terror seeing Tommy with that stupid mask. They even knew about the time that he ended up with a bruised eye and his lip broken, along with a huge amount of guilt because, although he did the right thing, he felt just like his father.

Maybe they saw that too.

The blood that ran through his veins had the same DNA of that man, and maybe it was not just that what they had in common. Maybe the statues could see inside his mind, his father’s shadow, the inherited evil embedded in his self being, impossible to shake off.

No, I’m not like that bastard.

He looked rabid at one of those statues, one that he had in front and that, this time, it was one that was grinning from ear to ear, mocking him.

He looked away feeling so vulnerable under the feet of that soulless man made to fake that he was, that it was a soul inside and a beating heart like his own. But there was no remedy, he knew the figure was still looking at him as the rest, watching him, feeling how his veins were pumping blood to every part of his body, yearning to tear his jugular apart to feed on his life. They smelt his fear and could see his lungs contracting violently in a desperate attempt to get the oxygen that those damn things were stealing despite not needing it.

He felt dizzy, his stomach churning, and at that point there was no returning back.

He roughly grabbed Tommy’s cap and vomited inside it, expelling his breakfast and, with that, his soul itself.

His mother immediately comforted him by patting his back softly and touching his forehead, she noticed the sweat and how his face was burning. However, with his last breath of strength he had, he smiled at his mother assuring her that it was a mild heat stroke and that he’d wait for them in the gardens where it was cooler.

Not giving his mother or Tommy the time to react and insist on go to the infirmary, he left the museum as quickly as he could, being a miracle that he didn’t stumble on his feet since his legs were trembling out of fear knowing that at every step he made the statues followed him with their gaze, some of them mocking him because of his cowardice, delighting in the victory of seeing him humiliated and defeated, meanwhile the other were doing nothing but wish they could stink their teeth in his chest, dig their nails and tear at his flesh until reach his heart to eat it in one bite, and with it, have the life that they pretended to have.

That day was the first of his worst panic attacks, but not the last one.

Although positive, he had a long rest period as soon as he joined the army shortly afterward.

Inside, there were only cold grey buildings with long hallways full of soldiers, both young and old, each one wrapped in their own affairs. All of them just like him.

There were no statues, not even paintings or music, there was no place for art in the world of war. The only thing that mattered was your usefulness within it, a discardable and temporally usefulness.

But the pay was good, and he and his family had excellent health assurance, not to mention all the benefits and career opportunities within. So, in the end, it was worth it. Especially because, even when he was discardable he was more useful in the army that outside, where he was nothing but a mere young man, weak and coward.

That’s how he gave his life to the army.

From the start he was a good soldier, the first ―or at least among the first― in every group he was assigned. Soon he was known as a fearsome soldier, both for his skills and for his imposing physics and peculiar personality, quiet and stoic, hard to read. Although, contrary to what many rumors said, he never was rude or got into trouble, he wasn’t the heartless bastard that everyone thought. He wasn’t a civil, much less would he be now.

During his first years he stayed away from statues, he passed almost all the time at base because of his strict schedule, and when he went out and came back home, he never ran into one. And even if it was the case, he had many more problems to worry about, so it was easier to push aside his phobia and try to ignore it to focus on what he considered truthfully important.

Soon he faced death once more, and this time in a more visceral way.

His hands were stained with human blood; they had taken so many human lives that he didn’t even remember seventy percent of them. At first it was hard, flooded first with negation and the continuing thought of ‘I can’t do this’, to the purest adrenaline that kept him alive, it moved his body in an electrifying way, sometimes he didn’t feel the wound that the enemy inflicted on him until he felt the warmness of his blood running through his skin.

With time he got used to adrenaline, until the point of doesn’t need it anymore, he learnt to always be alert to every external stimulus he received, no matter how small it was, he immediately noticed it, and his body acted on the blink of an eye, cleanly and skilled. The enemy didn’t even have time to understand what happened before seeing his life extincted in his hands.

When he was in the battlefield, fear, although present, was easy to push aside, especially as he grew more accustomed to war, he knew he could die and it was a dance with death, where his steps were lethal and instead of creating, he destroyed.

He told a story with every step he took, a story that took lives and spilled blood that coated his soul.

Sooner or later his polished skills led him to rise little by little, without him searching for it he scaled in the hierarchy. He didn’t last into became Ghost.

And ghosts aren’t afraid since they are fear itself.

O that was he thought. Until life struck him down once more to show him that neither his high ranks, nor his skills, nor dancing face to face with death could help him to confront his greatest phobia.

Dying was rational, and he could accept it, but how to push aside an irrational fear?

As he moved from one place to another for different missions, he would sometimes come across statues, each one worse than the last. Statues that made him feel inferior, so useless and vulnerable in the cruelest possible way. And it took all his self-control, all his might to keep from being brought down by a soulless object.

It didn’t matter that the damn things knew everything about him, that they could see inside him and followed with their gaze wherever he went. She must be Ghost, the perfect soldier, obedient, trained like a loyal dog, skilled, effective, fearing nothing, not even death. He’s lived hell itself, he not only rescued people from human evilness, but he also himself was a victim when he was with Roba in Mexico, being abused physically and sexually to destroy his mind. The worst came when his family were murdered. He wanted to kill himself to be with them, nothing else mattered, he was just a fragile scared child pretending to be a strong man.

He had to rebuild himself from scratch, reattaching every part of his being again so he would function again, so that the blood coursing through his veins wouldn’t feel alien to him. Sometimes he felt that he wasn’t real, that he lived through a body that wasn’t his, but at the same time it was. He could recognize himself, but didn’t feel himself, like a shadow or an entity apart from the one that was physically palpable. The environment felt irreal sometimes, fake, every time he received stimulus, he knew it was there but didn’t feel it or felt it different as how it must be, like a kind of unnerving synesthesia. There were days when he felt more dead than alive.

So, he decided to return to therapy.

He never told his therapist about it, he talked about his family and his grief, the abuses that he suffered since childhood, his nightmares, his self-loathing and even he exposed to her his softest side, the one that loved to visit the base’s K9, admiring sunrises, the soft clothes contrasting with his rough skin, and that, despite the trauma and how hard it was for him to trust someone again, he loved his new team and recognized that he enjoyed when Kyle hugged him, when Johnny leaned on his lap every time he was reading and when John treated him as his own son.

But he never had the courage to recognize that he had a phobia of statues, even if every time he saw a damn one, he paralyzed and trembled like a little boy. He suppressed the sorrow he’d carried since he was a child, because meanwhile the rest of his story was sad and depressive, full of survived battles ―metaphorically and literally― his phobia was completely irrational.

Enemy could kill him and tortured him, like had already happened with Roba. His father let sensitive scars on his skin and soul from a very early age, and lost his family buried him in an abyss of pain that teared him apart from the inside.

On the other hand, what harm had statues done to him?

 He hadn’t suffered any traumatic experience in his childhood that made him fear of them; his first conscious exposure was a simple art class. A statue could never harm him, much less in the way that so many people had hurt him in the past, they couldn’t use his body to their own pleasure without his consent, couldn’t talk to him to hurt him verbally, they weren’t alive and therefore they didn’t have a consciousness that could judge his every actions.

There was no reason for him to fear them. And if there was no reason, it shouldn’t have been there, it was just damned parasite that has latched to him since his childhood and refused to let go, feeding on his fear. It writhed in the deepest part of his brain, feasting on his psyche, devouring him endlessly.

Pathetic.

 That’s why he never said anything, keeping his fear and trying to avoid them as much as possible, and if he had no choice but walk past one, he would bite his guts to keep from vomiting from sheer terror.

That was until he hit rock bottom, nearly losing his life.

It was in a mission against a terrorist group; the Task Force had all the advantage after weeks of hard work and sleepless nights. It was practically the last day, the final blow in which they’d capture the leader and destroy his hideout with several of his men inside. Everything was meticulously planned, each one in their respective positions with their tasks firmly in their heads, there couldn’t been mistakes.

Until inside the labyrinth those ruins were that the enemy used as a hideout, he came across with a statue in the middle of the darkness, the only damn object that was illuminated, standing beneath what had been an observatory in the past.

If a statue alone scared him, wrapped in a dark environment and with heavy shadows that marked more its features, it was even worse.

 The first that he felt was his blood frozen like it stopped circulating through his body, his limbs became so cold and livid, just like a corpse’s, which made him felt sick to his stomach, his mouth watered with nausea and without been able to help it, he ended up vomiting the little ha had ate hours before, a tasteless packet of MREs.

He tried to get back to his feet, he was in a dead-or-alive mission, he was the one who got his team back, covering them and had to get them out of there before Jhonny detonated the bombs that would turn everything into rubble.

But he could barely stand, shaking so much he felt fragile, capable of breaking into the gentlest breeze. He used all his strength to cling to his weapon in a desperate attempt to feel safe, but to no avail.

The stupid statue watched him, he knew it, he could feel its empty gaze on him, mocking him and judging him. As if it knew that that’d be his last mission, that he wouldn’t make it out alive and would fall with it as soon as everything exploded.

It was like he could listen to it speaking inside his dead, without the need of moving he knew that it’d harm him, break every bone in his body and devour his whole chest, sucking his blood dry.

The images of his dead family captured into his brain, and as a virus they extended until form a map of his worst memories; the first time he killed someone, his father’s beatings, the men and women that reaped him in Mexico, the General’s corpse he was buried alive with, the time that Johnny nearly died in Makarov’s hands. And everything mixed up until made a putrid image of his family’s corpses transformed into bloody statues, crying in pain, violating his memory against his will.

He couldn’t breathe, the air wasn’t enough so he had to pull his balaclava over his nose to breathe, even though he couldn’t. He was suffocating while his chest tightened in pain, his heart beating so violently that he felt like it would burst out of his chest. And would die right there.

He was dying, he knew it, it knew it.

The cold sweat started to soak his clothes, and that made him once again aware of the coldness in his feet and hands, like a dead person refusing to leave the earth.

A pop inside his head clouded his vision for a few seconds. He saw everything in white, then saw everything with a filter of colors that he couldn’t explain, like the ones of a bad reception television, showing altered colors and grained images.

When he looked at his hands he stopped feeling them, and little by little he also stopped feeling his own body, since it no longer belonged to him, and his movements were alien to him. The pain in his chest evaporated, giving him great emptiness, numbing his legs. And when he tried to touch his face, he didn’t feel anything, he felt the balaclava’s fabric piercing him, even the sewn skull, but he didn’t feel his eyes, nose or lips, his face was empty.

He became more anxious and scared, although in a weird and alien way, he felt and at the same time didn’t. He felt in a way that was alien to him, out of step with his own body, living through a screen that showed a fake reality, that didn’t exist and was nothing but the product of his own broken mind.

He looked at the statue and only faced a black stain covering its face, but despite that he knew that that emptiness was still alive and aware, mocking him, ready to take his life.

He heard the radio in his chest away. It was Price’s distorted voice, talking to him, asking him his position so they could attack. He wanted to respond to him, he opened his non-existent mouth, but no word came out.  

It’s not real, this is not real…

Little by little the voices of Kyle and Johnny joined, far away too, but he couldn’t respond or react, he couldn’t even understand what they were saying, his brain only managed to get individual words while the rest were intelligible as a dead language.

Screams and gunshots began to be heard outside his body, alien to him yet so close that they made his body rumble in a disgusting way.

He didn’t know how much time he was like that; his memories of that day were blurry; he only knew that he started to be conscious when suddenly Kyle’s hand on his shoulder began to shake him, forcing him to look at him.

As he did so he faced the young Sargeant’s face, nose bleeding and his cheek bruised for a blow, feeling so real that in the blink of an eye, he clutched his hands into his arm, feeling it so he could receive the necessary stimulus that would tell him that Kyle was real and not a hallucination.

He still couldn’t understand what Kyle was saying, but he let himself go as the Sargeant began to pull him far away from there; their surroundings were collapsing. Johnny had detonated the first bomb so they must leave as quickly as possible.

His body moved by inertia and mere muscular memory, still feeling reality’s fragments and himself trying to join again to come into his senses.

He heard the second explosion and this time more and more walls fell one after another, leaving thick smoke in their wake.

And even so he could still listen that fucking statue’s laugh at the distance, as if in that laugh it could swear to him that he would never be free of his fear.

A third bomb exploded and then nothing.

The next thing he remembered was being in the helicopter, surrounded by his family, talking to each other and looking at him with painful concern. At first, he couldn’t understand what they were saying, he heard them under the water, until little by little he began to process their words clearly.

Once John noticed that he was reacting he patted him softly on the shoulder, and before he could ask him about what had happened, Simon clung to him with all his strength, he hugged him, fearing he’d vanished, that everything would become unreal again.

He trembled and his breathing was labored, there were still remnants of fear circulating through his veins and he needed to hold them out of the fear of losing them and losing himself to that statue.

John hugged him back, spoke softly to consol him and let him know that he was safe. Even when no one knew why he was in that state, they recognized the terror in his gaze, and they wouldn’t leave him. Not now, not ever.

He never told them about what happened exactly, he felt so guilty that because of him the three of them ended up harmed and nearly lost their lives due to his absurd fear. He only let them know that he was fine, at least physically. But from that day on he knew that had to face his fear and heal it. He had to return to therapy.

The therapist, as always, assured him that that didn’t make him a weak man, and that what happened wasn’t his fault. Whit each session she tried to guide him in meditation and breathing exercises, and distractions exercises for when he had another panic attack.

Amont the meditations to assimilate his fear she recommended to him to see videos of artists applying makeup to look like statues, or performances of similar acts. And although he couldn’t say they were futile efforts, as months passed, he felt like he barely had made a baby step in all the way that was waiting for him. Maybe he didn’t vomit or got dizzy when he saw one, but the fear was still beating inside him, refusing to leave his body.

And now there he was, in the middle of a lonely park at midnight, sitting in front of the statue of a heroic man dead from decades ago, looking at the void and with a heroic expression.

And he hated it.

Seeing him he felt scared as always, but this time he also felt a new wave of emotions, rage, frustration, irritation, hostility.

Rabid itself.

Why has he always felt that way? Statues hadn't life, they were just cold pieces of art made of marble or steel.

Dead.

A dead being can't hurt you.

I am stronger than you.

The rage he felt became more intense, boiling his blood and his soul itself, like pure acid corroding every cell inside him, every bone, muscle, organs, everything.

The fear mixed with rage was like a venomous soup, boiling and ready to explode like an active volcano.

And so, it was.

He looked at its empty eyes, feeling like that emptiness staring back at him, mocking him and challenging him to do something.

Maybe he couldn’t do anything, or he’d end up spending the night in jail for destruction of public property, but in his mind, he let himself go and released all the pain that was consuming him from the inside for years.

You are nothing, you need men to exist, and you’re just an empty soulless existence.

The figure remained motionless, staring at him unfazed, and that only fueled the flame inside him, and this time more intense, so much he began to murmur.

“Fucking lifeless marble.”

And he continued along those same lines, he didn’t know for how long, nor did he care. He only let himself be carried away by that storm of intense emotions fighting inside him, erupting in an explosive rage unable to contain. Like a blazing fire that consumed everything without mercy.

He exploded in the name of his lost family, in the name of that tainted memory in which they turned into statues that blamed him for what happened. He exploded his insecurities, the fear that ate him alive, everything.

He allowed himself to be vulnerable like never before, so exposed that he felt his raw flesh throb in the same way of those dead animals’ that he butchered in his youth, it was like experimenting his own death, with the difference that this time there was no adrenaline to keep him alive but hate and horror in their rawest expression.

The statue, as cold as it was impenetrable, remained that way, unchanged despite his fury and the pain that pricked his guts.

He knew it was watching him; he knew that even though his voice was so low it was barely audible, it understood perfectly every word that came from his scarred lips.

And without caring, he continued exposing himself, cursing, hating, trembling out of fear and rage. He exploded until the poison inside him finally left his body through a scream that sounded more like a dark beast’s growl, followed by his body reacting out of impulse, with his muscles itching in electricity making him throw his soda at the statue, splattering its face and chest the color of molasses black.

Finally, he was left empty, with nothing but blood running through his dilated veins, boiling blood that slowly cooled and slowed, so much so that for a moment he felt dizzy, his vision blurred no longer from anger but from exhaustion, and his stomach churning, threatening to vomit.

But he didn't.

Instead, his mind shut down for a minute that felt like an eternity. His brain finally rested, and to do so, he disconnected his senses, zoning out from the world, as had happened so many times before. Although he no longer felt ill now, even though he knew his phobia would still be present, for now, the poison of that fear that always gnawed at him from the inside out. This experience was a respite, a pure disconnection from his surroundings and from himself so he could fill himself with life once more.

When he finally reacted, he looked again at the statue, damp and probably sticky from the soda, and although he felt an unpleasant chill run through his body, he didn't run away, didn't feel the urge, perhaps because he was too tired. At least for now, the damn thing wasn't laughing at him anymore; it just stood motionless, staring into space.

As it should be. Lost and empty.

Despite the strange pain in his body, he managed to move one more time. He picked up the can that flew out from the impact and, silently, being the Ghost he always was, walked over to the trash can and threw it away.

At least there were no police around.

He sighed, looking at the trash can. If there was one thing he could be thankful for, it was being alone in that harsh moment.

Or so he thought.

"Scary, isn't it?" A female voice startled him. He looked in the direction of the voice and found you, just two meters away, sitting on the same bench he'd been on before collapsing and exploding, your knees clutched to your chest.

He'd been so wrapped up in his own world that he never saw or heard you arrive.

He looked at you with that typical stoic, expressionless face, scanning your entire being, focusing on your face, looking for a hint of mockery. But he was only greeted by a serene face, with a haggard and tired look like his own, showing genuine interest in his condition.

He fell silent and stared up at the sky without really looking at it, just resting his gaze there and avoiding looking at you directly.

He sighed.

"Are you afraid of statues?" His voice came out deeper than usual, raspy as if he'd smoked seconds ago. He looked down and focused on you, relieved that his already deep voice hadn't intimidated you as it usually did. Well, his voice and his imposing 6'3" height and 250 pounds of brute strength, covered in black clothing and a surgical mask.

Your face remained calm, and you smiled very slightly even though instead of a clear answer, he somewhat evaded the subject; he wasn't going to expose himself in front of a stranger after all.

"No, but I don't like them either." Before continuing, you gazed at the statue as you brought your cigarette to your lips and took a deep drag, then blew out the smoke with a resigned sigh. "It's as if the bastards knew my thoughts and sins."

Your words sent shivers down his spine.

It was exactly what he'd been feeling for years.

He didn't respond; instead, he sat on the same bench directly across from you. He removed his hood and rested his elbows on his legs, allowing his mind and body to rest while everything that had happened settled.

For approximately five minutes, neither of you said anything. You smoked very slowly and silently, even at times seeming to forget the cigarette between your fingers as you became lost in your thoughts. While he simply stared at the ground, thinking of everything and nothing at once, he still felt the statue watching him, but at least for now, he wasn't afraid, just a slight discomfort that came and went without a set rhythm.

During those minutes, you occasionally glanced at each other. Your gazes never met; you only looked at each other for a second, as if observing a cold, serene landscape, or a melancholically tranquil painting.

And somehow, seeing each other in the same state of tiredness and the same thought against the statues was comforting for both of you. He didn't know about your problems, nor did you know his, but you understood each other unnecessarily, and that was something that took a weight off your shoulders.

"By the way, I won't say anything about the soda." He looked at you with a slight, almost imperceptible confusion, not understanding what you meant. But when he saw your smile, this time a little wider as you pointed at the security camera facing the statue, he understood.

If they were looking for the culprit for leaving the statue sticky and therefore covered in ants, they already had him on camera.

"Although the mask covers you well anyway."

That got a small but deep chuckle from him.

"True."

Silence fell again, a comfortable one that made him forget about that damn statue.

Looking at your face, he felt calm, at home. He didn't know if it was that small smile of yours that, although tired, came from the heart, the fact that your company was pleasant, or if it was that you felt comfortable with him instead of scared by his intimidating appearance, but he felt good even amid the tiredness that remained after his catharsis.

Soft.

"Do you have another cigarette?" He asked without taking his eyes off you. He had to admit that it was nice to look at you; to him, your face seemed beautiful even with the tiredness decorating you.

That was the most special beauty, the one that lay in the simple things.

"Yes, but..." You took one last drag on your cigarette and stubbed it out against the back of the bench, then tossed it toward the trash can with perfect aim that made him smile slightly. Once your hand was free, you pulled a small cardboard box from your hoodie pocket with a lilac floral logo plastered across the front, one he didn't recognize at all, couldn't even understand the name, which was apparently in another language, a Romance one, apparently, all quite handmade. You opened it and inside were several cigarettes; it was almost full. "They're floral cigars."

You couldn't help but chuckle softly at his expression, which was somewhere between doubt, surprise, and a slight hint of annoyance.

Your laughter caught on, and he chuckled once more, shaking his head.

"You’ve go’to be kidding me, sweethear’."

"No, no. They're lavender with chamomile and lemon balm." The ingredients alone made him roll his eyes with a certain amusement.

"Of course, they had ‘o be lavender."

You laughed again, taking it with grace because there was no malice behind his words and you knew it.

"They're relaxing." You shrugged. "I mean, I know that, although they're less harmful than tobacco, they'll still give me cancer. But at least I'll die relaxed."

Simon smiled, finding your way of thinking so refreshingly comforting that it made his chest tingle.

He didn't say anything, just his gaze flickered between the floor, you, and the stupid pack of cigarettes.

For a moment, he glanced sideways at the statue, feeling a slight chill running down his neck. But this time, instead of pushing away and avoiding it, he let the fear settle inside him without resistance. He let it nestle, allowing himself to be vulnerable and feel his muscles sting.

And to his surprise, just as the fear came, it went, as swiftly as a bullet piercing his entire body, but without the power to harm him.

As soon as his muscles relaxed, he looked at you again and, removing his mask, smiled very slightly.

"Fine. Gimme one of those." He extended his hand, so large it could fit both of your hands without a problem. Looking at his face, you noticed a couple of scars, hard features, a marked brow, and a crooked nose. He was ruggedly handsome.

You handed him the pack along with a small box of matches.

The moment your fingers touched you both felt a slight electric shock tingled your hands.

And he knew, just by seeing your tired face light up with joy, that just to see you like that, he'd be willing to smoke the whole pack, even if he ended up smelling like a damn Disney magic garden.

When he took the first drag, he let it settle in his lungs, savoring the smoke, which, compared to tobacco, was quite tasteless, but also less harsh and invasive.

"No’ bad." It was all he said, but your smile grew wider, victorious.

"Anytime." He let out a chuckle that reverberated in his chest and yours. For a moment, silence reigned again, dancing comfortably between the two of you, until you sighed and spoke casually. "You know, if you like, there's a cafe five minutes from here. My treat."

He looked at you expressionlessly despite the surprise he felt. Once again, he searched your face for any sign of mockery or lies, finding nothing but sincerity.

He'd known you for about twenty minutes, of which only five had passed exchanging a few words. He didn't know your name, nor did you know his. You were two strangers sharing an eerie feeling for statues, keeping each other company in that palpable darkness you found yourselves in due to your own personal problems, which the other didn't know about.

Complete strangers.

He took another deep drag, finally noticing the light touch of lavender tickling his tongue, and looked at the statue, ignoring his fear.

As always, it looked back at him, but its gaze was blank and expressionless, devoid of the life it pretended to display.

A slight fear pricked his chest, which he didn't fight, just left it there.

He knew it wasn't going away anytime soon, but at least it was nice not to be alone and to know there was someone who, besides being there for him, understood him, even if they didn't know him.

It wasn't about you fixing him, nor him fixing you. It wasn't magic. You weren't each other's personal doctor, and therefore, each of your paths was personal. But each other's company lightened the load because it overcame the base of any fear.

Being alone and vulnerable.

We'll meet again.

And with that thought, he said goodbye to that figure, which no longer seemed so large or imposing. The still-present fear left his body with the last drag she took, expelling the smoke until it emptied like spiritual vomit.

"Lead the way, luv."

[bloodyinkandquill]

Firebrand x pheonix/immortal Reader

this one really cool phighting x reader ARTIST i like liked some of my posts i genuinely screamed, like i fucking shouted i was so happy that they thought my writings were good enough to like THREE of them dvsishksgdishsja

immediately after writing that i went to check twitter and saw aidn’s tweet, no spoilers but i have never an to my laptop faster and stimmed so hard.

anyways onto the actual thing you guys are here for, the x reader hcs!

- Cursed, you were cursed. That was the only way to see it, whatever curse your gear had given you made you miserable, it was cool the first few times, after dying you came back in a flame, rose from the ashes, but after centuries you were so tired and lonely, you got attached to mortals too much, attachment was futile, you’ll watch them pass on while you remain on the Inphinity

- You gave up on civilization, living in a remote cabin far away from any other demons, but every once in a while, wether that was months or years, you’d take a day trip out to the Inpherno, it could change so much between your visits or barely at all

- It was on one such trip where you were just walking around looking at what vendors had to offer, couples passing by, kids on their way to cause trouble that you heard something odd, a male voice saying your motto, attachment was futile, overcome with curiosity you followed the loud voice till you saw the source, you weren’t an idiot, if you lived in the Inpherno and didn’t know what the deities looked like that was idiotic, in front of you was not one but two of them, Firebrand and Icedagger

- The taller of the two was knelt down to be on the shorter’s level and was clearly comforting him, he was telling him that he needs to learn, mortals die and that he mustn’t get too attached, he would loose them eventually, but the snow god cried anyways

- You understood his pain, loosing so many people you had foolishly come to love, you were the likely only one besides for the swords that understood that pain, as far as you knew you were the only one with that curse, the curse of being the pheonix

- As you observed you accidentally stepped on something, a paper bag that crumbled and made noise alerting the two gods in their private interaction, they both instantly turned towards you as you raised your hands in show of not meaning any harm, you apologized for interrupting their conversation, but Firebrand had a strange look on his face, he said something to the affect of you felt different than other mortals, you had a deep sadness in your eyes, which like ouch, fair, but ouch

- You tentatively asked if he had heard the urban legends of a demon from centuries past given the name pheonix, he nodded and you revealed that that was you, an immortal mortal, he looked a bit skeptical but could also see the years and pain behind your eyes, similar to that of him and his siblings, Icedagger spoke up saying he didn’t know of the legends, you explained the stories people told of you, a demon cursed by their gear to forever walk the Inphinity, anytime you shall die you’re swallowed by the flames and emerge again anew, never allowed to pass on

- Icedagger asked if that meant you knew how he felt, the pain of becoming too attached to people you were destined to loose, watch grow old and fade away as you had so many times before, you said you did, you believed only you, him, and his siblings knew the feeling

- Firebrand spoke up asking if you’d want to accompany him for tea, he had heard the legends form mortals of you but never believed them, thought they were just stories the mortals told, you agreed and things spiraled from there

- Now you have someone you can love without fear of loosing them, and likewise, you knew the pain of loving someone who you would be helpless to save, and now that you had each other you and him wouldn’t have to experience it as bad as you had before, he thought it might have been fate, you’re reborn form the fire, his fire, it could not have been coincidence

- You loved each other wholeheartedly, knowing that you could till the end of time, even as others died and turned to dust, cities fell and crumbled, you would have each other, it was the most amazing thing you could have ever asked for, someone who understood your sadness but would never cause you that same sadness again, maybe, just maybe, your gear was a blessing, and not a curse

HOLY SHIT THAT WAS FAR MORE POETIC AND JUNK THAN I INTENDED, like holy shit i had a basic idea for what to do, then i’d do regular writings of like dates or whatever, instead i wrote that fucking masterpiece, it’s 1 am and i just channeled fucking william shakespeare i swear bros, anyways uh, thanks for reading ill either go to bed now or get one more request done, we shall see i have class tomorrow but i really like doing these requests so…

[sanyu-thewitch05]

Adding a bit of happiness before the chapter 7 ending:

F! Sage Island Resident Reader Headcanons:

Pt.2 Pt.3

You loved living on Sage Island. Born there and probably going to die there.

Unfortunately since the two Arcane Schools have been established in your island, the housing market has been in a centuries long decline on one side of the island. Specifically the northern side where NRC is.

Turns out, years of crash out students is terrible for the housing market.

That and the three students that died in the old dorm, some poor sap is living in(“bless their heart” is what you think of every time you think of them)

Despite a whole mountain separating NRC, more people(including most of your family) moved to the middle and southern part of Sage Island. Which left only a few houses left on the northern side.

Your family couldn’t get your grandma to leave, so you volunteered to stay with her so she won’t have to be alone.

Well, she had plenty of ducks, goats, and three cats. But your mother said that didn’t count and someone with thumbs needed to look after her if she was going to stay.

There was a stream near your grandma’s house, so it offered plenty of opportunities for scenic photos on Magicam and the occasional fish dinner.

Plus, the woods had plenty of fruit, herbs, and flowers to pick so you can save your money and/or decorate your grandmother’s house.

Unfortunately, the occasional run-ins with the NRC students left you somewhat irked.

👒: A little time by the lake shouldn’t hurt, right, Felicity?

Your first time meeting the NRC students was when you accidentally stumbled upon their camp and saw a monster attacking the students.

You contemplated leaving, after all you may have magic, but you couldn’t risk leaving your grandmother alone for too long. But the monster’s fur was so beautiful. It reminded you of your grandmother’s fur coat that she fashioned when she killed a beast in the woods some years ago. Then, you were determined to have your own fur coat.

You attacked the monster, startling everyone around you. Just when you were about to stab the beast in the stomach, it pulled off its mask and revealed a young man.

“Professor Crewel?!” A student exclaimed.

🐶: Get off of me…please…

👒: Damn it! Just when I thought I was going to get a nice coat. FUCK!

If it wasn’t accidental encounters that ruined your ambitions, it was grandmother’s tale of how your mom came to be that soured your opinion of the gothic arcane school’s students.

👵: Did I ever tell you about your mother’s biological father? It was way back when we didn’t have all this hip technology. Just good old spell books and witchcraft! Ha, we used to have a fun time back then, anyway, your biological grandfather was a handsome young man in his 3rd year at NRC. We were a hot thing until I got pregnant and then he graduated without even telling me or sending me an invite after all his talk of getting married after school. Shortly after, I met your step grandfather and he was kind enough to let me stay until I got back onto my feet. Months went by of him treating me like a queen, then, the day your mother was born, I got two surprises. A marriage proposal and a beautiful baby girl. Anyways, the lesson is fuck NRC and its students. Any questions?

👒: I’m good.

There was also the many times the NRC students made you late for work or broke something in your family’s plant shop because of their constant fighting.

It was worrying to a degree, which is why your family checked up on you every day via phone call.

👩: Sweetie, are you sure you don’t want us to convince grandma to move down south with us? It is so quiet down here. No shouting, no nothing. Just peace and quiet. Plus, there ain’t none of that ghetto constant fighting and yelling. It would really be better for your nerves-

👒: Mama, you know grandma won’t leave this house even though grandpa was a former RSA student. It’s ok, I’ll stay as long as I need to. It really isn’t that bad, it’s quiet most of the time-

*An explosion comes from the school*

👒: BESIDES, the other people remaining could need my help too. All the other remaining residents are either elderly or, they’re too poor to move.

👩: Ok, just make sure to stay safe. I’ll see you at the shop this weekend.

You were also staying at your grandma’s place for the safety of the NRC students as well.

🐉: Hello, would you like to buy some candy to help our-

👵: DEMOOONNN!!!

👒: GRANDMA, NO!

Your grandmother proceeded to chase him into town with a broom. The poor fae prince got hit on the head a couple of times, and worst of all, your grandmother had gotten a couple of hits on his poor friends as well.

👒: I am so sorry! I will pay for your medical fees or just anything you want. Please, don’t press charges on my grandmother!

*You hug the tall silver haired boy’s leg*

👒:The police department won’t even take her in because she once beat up every officer so it won’t help anyway! I promise she’s not a menance most of the time!

🗡️: Ok, we won’t press charges…can you get off my leg now?

👒: Oh, sorry. But are you really sure none of you are going to press charges? Your short friend has been staring at my grandma for a while.

Silver looks up and sees his father gawking at your grandma as she’s being held back by several islanders.

🗡️: Hello, Lilia…*whispers* Father are you ok?

👒: Oh no, I think he’s concussed! Someone call a doctor for this poor boy!