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celestie0 · 3 months ago

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gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch4. in a mother’s eyes

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 4/x

ᰔ words. 10k (omg a whole number...very sexy)

a/n. hellooo my ihm friends! hope you're all doing well. ahh i'm glad to finally be posting this chapter lolol. it's a littleee off tangent from what happens in ch3, but still has some important plot developments. it does dive into feelings of depression & anxiety, so just wanted to give a warning on that! but yea other than that i hope you enjoy and see you at the bottom!! :) also so sorry if there are errors i only had time to skim through it once :((

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“Just go ahead and sign right here for me.”

You take the pen from the hospice nurse’s hand. It’s cheap black plastic with a pink fuzzy pom pom attached to the end of it with peeling glue.

Your eyes briefly flit across the paragraphs detailed in printed ink until your gaze lands on the highlighted lines at the bottom of the page. Your signature. Spouse’s signature.

“We’ll need to have your husband come here to sign the paperwork as well, since he’ll have to add your mother on his list of dependents, but we can certainly get started on expediting this process for you since the insurance has already been pre-approved,” the nurse tells you as she accepts your signed paperwork and then neatly tucks it into one of the compartment holders.

The afternoon goes by smoothly, with your mother surprisingly patient as she sits in the waiting room while you wait for the nurses to formally show you to her new room.

You thought that you could put off putting her in hospice for a little longer, because in all honesty, you weren’t prepared to let her go just yet. You weren’t prepared to not have her in the house anymore. But lately, she’s been putting herself in lots of danger, like attempting to take her own medications when she does not know the correct dosing, and forgetting things on the stove when she attempts to cook.

But the last straw was when you came home from a very brief run to the grocery store at night a couple days ago to see a handful of your neighbors out on the front lawn with your mother at their side. She had apparently gotten out of the house and walked down the neighborhood, then fallen on the sidewalk but was unable to get up. When your neighbors had found her, a miracle as they were just coming home from dinner and caught sight of her in the illumination of their headlights, they tried to help her get up but she couldn’t. She couldn’t even tell the firefighters that came by to help her what her name was, or what year it was, or where she lived.

It was when you realized you couldn’t even keep her safe anymore that you had to let go.

“Is that a wedding ring?” your mother asks, pointing a trembling finger to it as she lays tucked inside her new hospice bed, “are you married?”

You glance down at the ring Gojo gave you in the courthouse, almost surprised to find that you were still wearing it in good faith. “Yes, mom. I am.”

“Why am I here?” she asks you, “I don’t want to be here.”

You stiffen a little. Although you were mentally preparing yourself to answer these questions, the preparation didn’t make it any easier. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just for a little short while, okay? The doctors want to run some tests on you.”

“Who are you married to?” she asks.

“To Satoru,” you tell her, “our neighbor.”

She lets out a small gasp. “The sweet boy who fixed our A/C?”

You roll your eyes. not sure why your mother has hyper fixated on that memory with Gojo when most days she’ll look at you like you’re a stranger. “Yes mom.”

“Oh, I like him,” she tells you with an affectionate nod. She hesitates slightly, wearisome of some other thought that flashes through her mind. “How long have you been married?”

You let out a small sigh. This is already a conversation you had with her a couple days ago, and it doesn’t feel good to lie to her. It was hard enough to do once, but to have to constantly lie to her over and over again over all the smallest things just so that she stays calm and safe and happy seems to drain you of all your energy and happiness you had left in your bones.

Little white lies, that’s what they are. Harmless ones. That’s what you tell yourself to absolve yourself of the guilt.

“I’ll come back soon, okay? I’ll tell you more about him some other day,” you say to her, speaking gently in the way an adult would speak to a child. The way she used to speak to you. You could never exactly pinpoint when those roles became reversed.

You finish discussing some more insurance matters with the front-desk nurse as she puts together a small folder of documents for you. While she works, you glance at the little counter shelf that includes a plethora of pamphlets on how to deal with the complicated feelings that arise from putting a loved one in hospice care, and dealing with the emotions of having a relative with advanced stage dementia. They are pretty brochures, lovingly creased at the folds as if looked through multiple times by people who walk in and out of this facility, but seemingly only few take them home. You slip one of each into your folder when the nurse hands it to you, manage the best smile possible, and then turn on your heel to head out the hospice doors.

The sun is setting outside as you take the walk back to your car, which was purposefully parked a half mile away to afford you the luxury of a melancholic stroll. Somehow, you feel like you’ve left a piece of yourself back at the hospice. A feeling you can’t quite shake from your bones.

Your feet stop walking somewhere along the sidewalk on their own, the street lights above you flickering brighter into life as the sky is now a dusty gray with only streaks of purple. There’s a liquor store you spot across a small parking lot to your right, and you’re guided towards it, but not without a sickening feeling in your chest.

When you open the door, the bell at the top jingles, and you glance to the right where you see a lanky young man playing some sort of shooter game on his phone by the cash register. You grab a bottle of vodka, a bottle of white wine, some packs of skittles, one of the mini pizza boxes at the hot food station, and then dump it all onto the counter.

The young man scans all your items without even so much as sparing you a glance, but does take a look at your ID, then says, “Total’s $68.65, cash or card?”

“Card.”

Just before you tap your card, something displayed behind the cashier counter catches your eye. Something familiar, something tempting, something you weigh in your head about twenty times within one millisecond all due to the cortisol coursing through your veins and you eventually say, “Uh, and could I get one of those, too?”

The cashier looks behind himself to what you’re pointing at before turning around. “Sure.”

The same jingle is heard on top of your head as you leave the store, now with a burning hot mini pizza box in your hand as well as a plastic bag that carries your candy and the two clinking bottles of alcohol.

“Oh!! omg, y/n,” you hear a feminine voice call out and you’re instantly wincing. The last thing you wanted was to be bothered right now. You just wanted to go home and get drunk and then pass out on the floor of your living room. But alas, the world is small.

You turn around to see Hana come running across the sidewalk lot towards you, and when she’s about a few feet away, she glances down at your hands and all the things you were carrying. You quickly shove your last-minute purchase into your jacket pocket with a shameful conscience, and try to hide the plastic bag of liquor behind your calves. There was no hiding the pizza box, but at least that was the least incriminating.

“Oh, Hana, wow! What a coincidence seeing you here,” you say to her, pressing your lips into a small smile.

“Yeah, I um,” she points over her shoulder towards the hospice that’s standing tall in the darkness of night, cells with windows illuminated with light. If you didn’t know any better, you would think it was a prison. “Remember I told you my friend’s mom is sick and she’s at this hospice?”

“Yeah,” you say.

“I was just visiting her mom with her,” she tells you.

“Aw,” you comment, “I see, I see.”

You adore Hana, you really do. She was there for you when the whole Yuna and Choso thing went down, picking your shifts up for a good week when you couldn’t stomach going into work when your ex-best friend’s stupid face was gloating in the halls over how she stole your boyfriend. Hana was there for you when you were a new hire and all the doctors were being bitchy about a “newbie in the ED”, but she stood up for you, even cussed the fuck out of one of attendings for the whole hall to hear when you were being disrespected by one of them. She’s someone you can beam about how hot the EMT and Firefighter men that stroll into the ED are, too. A priceless companion.

And even though you two have hung out after hours sometimes, it was still always a little awkward to see a coworker outside of work.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“I actually, um, was going to tell you at our shift tomorrow, but I just admitted my mom to the hospice too,” you say, “and…thanks a lot for telling me about it. I really appreciate it. It seems like a wonderful facility.”

Her eyes briefly widen with surprise before they soften once again. “Oh, that’s wonderful, love. I hope all goes well. And your little insurance scam worked! Good for you!”

“Shhh,” you hiss at her, looking around yourself with paranoia, “the feds are everywhere.”

She laughs, sweet in the air, before the sound settles and she looks at you with something reminiscent of well-intentioned concern. Her eyes flit to the plastic bag you were still holding behind your legs. “Hey…um, if…if you ever want some company when you come to visit your mom, just let me know. I hope you know you don’t have to do everything alone.”

You blink at her, sucking in a short breath to respond, but it only leaves you as a slight puff of air. There’s a silent gratitude that you give her, because it’s hard for you to express any feelings with words, but you’ve found that the people in your life who know you best can always read you without them.

“Thank you, Hana,” you manage to say with a slight croak to your voice because you were fighting back tears.

She smiles at you. “Take care, okay? And see ya tomorroooowwwwww,” she coos at you, coming up to you to give you a small hug, a squeeze of your upper arm, and then she heads back towards the direction of the hospice.

You watch her walk away until you can’t see her anymore. And then you head towards your car.

When you arrive at your neighborhood, you park in front of Gojo’s house. You have a feeling that you won’t be able to bear the vast emptiness of your home now that your mother is elsewhere, and so you drag your feet up the stone stairs of his house with a heavy heart instead.

The spare key that he gave you weakly pushes into the keyhole with about as much force as your fingers can manage, and you realize they almost feel atrophied.

The house is dark when you step inside, spare for the ambient street lights shining through cracked open blinds on the windows, and the curtains rustle gently from the draft of the AC, a chill that reaches you too by the time you make it to the staircase.

It doesn’t seem like Gojo’s home. A glance at the clock tells you it’s close to 8pm. You briefly consider texting him to ask where he’s at, why he’s out so late, when he’ll be home, and what’s for dinner, but you can’t even bring yourself to pull your phone out of your coat pocket.

Weak legs manage to take you upstairs and you’re about to pass through to your room when the slightly open door to the master bedroom taunts you, like a peephole into some other wordly dimension. Like the wardrobe in the chronicles of Narnia. A portal into your fake husband’s life.

With a palm pushing on the door, you slowly crack it open, and you know the anxious voices in your head are getting worse by the day when the creaking of the door hinges sounds like a lullaby to you.

Was this an invasion of privacy? And did you really care if it was?

The room is big, with a king sized bed off to the left, sheets neatly made and duvet primly tucked under, like the way hotel beds are set up. You feel a slight flush of embarrassment when you remember you haven’t been making your bed in the mornings for the past couple days you’ve been living here so far, and you wonder if Gojo would judge you for something like that. If he’d think you were a messy or undisciplined person. If he would think less of you.

Truthfully, in a lot of ways, you still felt like a child. You barely weathered a lot of your formative adolescent years when dealing with your parents’ divorce, and you’ve had to put so much of your life on pause to take care of your mom ever since she got diagnosed. So here you were, in the body of a 29-year-old woman, yet still feeling so painfully juvenile. One that forgets to make her bed in the mornings, and on most nights can’t seem to stomach anything other than cereal for dinner. It was like you were still at a party that everyone else had left, except all it ever was is hell. Your life was such a stark contrast to the lives of other adults you’ve come across. The ones that wake up at six to go on runs, the ones that have paid off mortgages with five figures in their retirement accounts, oh god, the ones that meal prep, and the ones that, all things considered, have their lives together. The ones that don’t spend at least an hour of every day, in fetal position on their bed, sobbing until tears soak through the sheets of the pillow down to the feathers like bone, because you’re so overwhelmed with stress and preparing yourself for the grief of losing your mother which you know that, no matter how hard you try to save her from, will inevitably one day come.

You used to cook dinner every night, make your bed every morning, and go to pilates on the weekends. Back when you were a little younger and healed and excited to live life. But now, you barely get by. Your priorities are with your mother. You can’t remember the last time you did anything nice for yourself, including something as simple as the luxury of getting to come home to a clean house because you hardly ever had time to clean it, not with all the doctor’s appointments you were driving your mother to, not with all the extra shifts you were picking up at the hospital to pay off your debt, not with all the times you felt too depressed to even get out of bed.

But your mother is in hospice now, so you’ve made time, right? You’ve made the decision that everyone in your life has been begging you to finally do. So why do you still feel so empty inside?

By a quick survey of the room, you notice Gojo doesn’t really have many framed photos hung up on the walls or perched up on surfaces. None, actually. Only a contemporary painting above his bed frame and then a faded vintage horror movie poster plastered up near his desk. Not terribly odd, since in your experience most men don’t really do the whole “cluttering the house with millions of photos of their family” thing until they at least have a couple of kids and some purebred dog. The thought of Gojo someday setting up a little portrait photo at his desk with his wife’s—his eventual real forever wife’s, pretty face in it, posing with their two beautiful kids, makes an oddly melancholic feeling waft through you. You wonder if he would keep a two-by-two in his wallet, too.

Your feet move one in front of the other as your finger traces the surface wood of a dresser cabinet, something that looks a little vintage and oaky, in stark contrast to the modern minimalist vibe Gojo has set up in the rest of the room. A family heirloom, maybe? There’s no dust that coats your finger, which surprises you. If you were to run your finger across your dresser at home you’d have collected enough dust to snort down your windpipes like a recreational drug. But Gojo’s a real estate agent, making a living off of dressing houses up in perfect cosplay so that monetarily stable middle class families feel inclined to buy them. So you’re not exactly surprised he’s invested in keeping his own house in pristine condition too.

There is a little bit of chaos, though. Like the shirt he has haphazardly hung over his chair at his office space over to the right. There’s a coffee mug sitting there too, porcelain and reflecting the moon light off, but upon peering inside you see that it’s half empty with stale coffee. He’s got pens sprawled across the desk, in a fashion that suggests he accidentally knocked them over in a rush, and slowly, like some grounding exercise, you place them one by one back into the paper mache pencil holder. It briefly occurs to you that he has a lot of paper mache containers of sorts around the house. You lift up the pencil cup, turning it in your hand until your eyes catch something written on it with glittery pink gel pen.

i luv u unkle toru! -yur BEST FREND 4EVUR juno!!! :D

A small smile makes it onto your face. The handwriting was messy, more like scratches than smooth lines, and nothing less than what you would expect of a child. You remember making paper mache and clay trinkets at preschool for your mom and dad when you were younger. And you’re sure if you were brave enough to open the box of memorabilia that sits in your attic some day, you’d see your own scratchy scribbled handwriting on them. An innocence that is long gone and buried, never again to be delicately placed on desks or counters for all the living.

The draft from the AC reaches you once again, brushing over your skin and causing a chill to shiver down your spine. It kicks at the curtains as well, causing them to ruffle up towards you, baring the dark outside world into the streets. And you notice in that momentary glance that there’s a roof just outside the window that overlooks the backyard. A roof? Spotted by a depressed woman going through a quarter life crisis? There was nothing more tempting than that.

The window was easy to open, which only caused unease over the revelation of how easy it would be for someone to rob this house. You make a mental note to tell Gojo to get a ring camera or security system of some sort since he doesn’t seem to have one, but you can already picture him telling you something about how statistically low the crime rates are in this neighborhood compared to all the other neighborhoods, and then you’d tell him that it’s just for your peace of mind. But whether he’d compromise or not after that, you’re really not sure.

You take a seat on the roof, a little scared as you sit because of the slight slope, but it’s comfortable once you’re settled. You sit criss-cross-apple-sauce, staring out into the neighborhood of perfectly lined up suburban houses. You’ve got a better view into some neighbors' backyards, noticing that a couple of them had pools while some of them have big gardens. There's a cat resting up on a fence in the distance. A car drives by with headlights illuminating everything in its proximity briefly before zooming off. You glance up at the sky, and notice the full moon, but it’s too cloudy to see any stars. Or perhaps it was just the light pollution from the lamps making it difficult to see.

On instinct, your hand reaches inside your coat pocket for your phone, but your knuckles hit something else instead. A moment of brief confusion flickers through your head, but then you immediately recall the last-minute purchase you made at the gas station.

Your hand pulls out the object, and then you stare down at it. Squinting your eyes a little, because it’s a sight that feels familiar but also one you haven’t seen in so long: a pack of twenty Marlboro red cigarettes.

You’ve tried a lot of things to manage your stress over the years. Excessively working out, eating a lot of sugar, going on six hour hikes to touch grass, flirting with random men at bars, fucking Choso until he was rendered speechless, multiple types of antidepressants, you almost tried smoking weed once with your roommate in college but you wimped out last second. But the habit that had gotten you through the years of 21 to 24 is held loosely in your hand right now. It’s been five years since you quit, but resolve was often a fickle thing. As the saying goes, once an addict, always an addict.

There’s a brief moment of hesitation as you slowly peel the plastic off of the back, but then it all comes back to you like a reflex you’ll never forget up to where you slide a cigar up out and then pinch it between your two fingers. Forgetting to buy a lighter with the cigarettes is definitely something you would do, but because you remembered it was something that you would do, you remembered not to do it. The flick of the flame coming to life is ASMR you didn’t know you were painfully nostalgic for, and you balance the cigarette between your lips in that sort of movie-star way people used to obsess over back in the day. But just as you bring the lighter up to the end of the cigarette, and just before you can light it—

A hand shoots out in your periphery, grabbing your wrist and entirely stalling the movement.

You gasp, lips parting enough for the cigarette to fall from them and into your lap. The hand wrapped around your wrist is large and masculine, and you briefly consider screaming, but when you snap your neck to look at the perpetrator, you see Gojo crouched down next to you on this roof. You notice he’s wearing a black suit, a tie that was loosely secure hanging from his neck into the space between his spread thighs as he’s crouched, and whatever gel he had in his hair from earlier only barely remains as strands fall over his forehead haphazardly. He looks like he’s on the other end of a long work day.

You blink at him, expression plastered with surprise, but his is only earnest. With breathtaking blue eyes that you realize he could easily use to surrender a person just by looking at them, like the way he’s looking at you right now. His lips are pressed together into a firm line, as if to suppress some emotion, but the slight crease to his brow makes you feel like you’re in trouble somehow. Like he was silently scolding you for something.

“I—” you stutter.

He lets go of your wrist and discreetly pulls the lighter out of your hand. And then his hand reaches for the pack of cigarettes you were balancing on your knee, but on some reflex that you don’t even think about, you try to snatch them away from him, and now you’re both tugging at the same pack of cigarettes.

“y/n,” he says, “let go.”

“No,” you say stubbornly.

He sighs and tugs a little harder. “Give them to me.”

“But—” you stammer, voice becoming softer to see if that’d work on him, “I’m…” Your grip on them tightens. “I’m stressed.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, then finally loses his patience and snatches them right out of your hand. He stands up from his crouched down position to toss the pack off to the side onto the roof somewhere. You’re surprised when he lets out a sigh and sits down next to you on the roof, as if he felt the obligation to. His legs stretch out in front of him, but still bent slightly at the knees, and he leans backwards with his body weight braced on his palms laid flat on wood paneling behind him. “There are better ways to relieve stress,” he tells you candidly.

“Like what?” you ask, and just when he opens his mouth to speak, you clarify, “and don’t say sex.”

He shuts his mouth and his eyes flit up to the sky for a brief second. “Damn. I didn’t have a back-up answer.”

You roll your eyes, releasing a deep breath, then draw your knees to your chest before resting your chin on top of them.

“I didn’t know you smoke,” he says after a century-long minute.

You wince a little, because you were half hoping he was going to just drop the subject all together.

You bite your lip nervously and hug your knees to your chest tighter as if to hide yourself from him. “I don’t. Well, I haven’t. Um, not for a while.”

“Huh. I see,” he says.

Another silence passes, and as he shuffles next to you, the fabric of his suit brushes against the fabric of your coat, and you’ve become entirely too aware of the feeling.

“So,” he says, breaking the awkward silence, “your mom’s in hospice now?”

You nod, enthusiastic enough to where you won’t look like you’re entirely depressed about it.

“That’s good,” he says, “no issues with the insurance?”

You shake your head. “They need you to sign some papers by the end of the week though,” you tell him. “We’ll have to go in person.”

He nods slowly to affirm he’ll make time for it. “I really hope things get better for your mom,” he says, voice soft as he stares off into neighbors homes like you had been doing ten minutes ago. You see the cat that was resting on the fence get up, do a big stretch, and start walking along the length of the fence. Your eyes briefly glance at Gojo, and you notice his gaze is tracing the cat’s path.

“My—” you start, hesitant all of a sudden by the vulnerability you already feel swelling within you, most definitely due to sitting with someone on a rooftop late at night, but you decide that you’ll be nice to him for once, “…my mom seems to remember you a lot. More than she remembers me.” You let out a small humoring laugh, as if that fact doesn’t completely destroy you. “She was blabbering to me again for the seventh time about how you apparently fixed our AC.” You try to bite your tongue, but can’t help it when you say, “although I’m pretty sure you just pressed a bunch of buttons until it started working again.”

“Yup. That’s exactly what I did.”

You roll your eyes and sigh.

Another awkward silence.

“Can I ask you a question?” you say.

“Sure.” His voice sounds deeper, like he’s sleepy.

“Why did you agree to marry me? That’s not something people just do out of nowhere.”

He glances over at you, and you flicker your eyes to him. “Why? Having regrets?” he teases, with a slight nudge of his elbow to your side.

“Just answer me.”

He lifts his palms up from behind him and leans forward, placing his hands on his knees instead. “I don’t know. If something I could do would help someone out that much, I wasn’t going to say no.”

You hum quietly, still confused by his intentions. But you’re too jaded to question them.

“It costs nothing to be nice,” he adds.

You run soothing circles over your thigh through the fabric of your jeans. For some reason, your mind wanders to Choso. Thinking of all the years you wasted staying with him even though you knew his affections were long gone, just because you didn’t want to break his heart. Only to realize that you never had that privilege in the first place.

“I think,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper as you draw your knees closer to your chest, “that sometimes it does.”

A gust of autumn wind breezes by, ruffling the trees that the two of you are at eye-level with at the moment. You're pretty sure you’ve completely lost Gojo’s interest at this point, where he’s finally too tired to deal with your oddly cryptic attitudes and overall generally displeasing vibe, assuming this based solely on his prolonged silence beside you. You’re ready for him to get up and abandon you here on this roof, left to ponder every single thing you’ve done wrong in your life. It was any second now.

“Sometimes,” he instead speaks up, and it’s so surprising to you that you jolt a little bit, “you can do everything right, and people will still find a way to fuck you over. But I don’t think that’s any reason to stop being nice to others.”

You glance over at him, your eyes widening slightly, but he just continues to peer off straight into the night. His blinks are slow, lingering on being closed for a moment before he opens them again, and you’re mesmerized by the sight. The skin under his eyes is slightly dark from exhaustion, heavy with character that makes you aware that he’s just a person too. And for what feels like the tenth time this week, you realize that he’s—…handsome. And for what feels like the tenth time this week, your heart flutters in your chest.

He scoffs suddenly and dusts his hands off. “I sound like a fucking youth pastor.” He lets out an exhale before suddenly standing up onto his feet before you can think more on it. He looks off into the night again and lets out another exhale that sounds more like a sigh this time. “God, it’s getting a lot colder these days. Might have to start running the heater.”

You blink up at him with no commentary to add.

He looks down at you. His face is relaxed, but you can tell those eyes are distracted. A shimmering blue ocean in its own world while he attempts to stay present in this one.

He holds his hand out to you, and you stare at it blankly like you’ve got no clue what he intends for you to do with it. But you finally take the hint and curl your hand around his palm so that he can pull you up onto your feet too.

You stumble a little, falling forward from the sudden blood flow to your brain, but he holds you steady by the strong grip of his hands on your elbows. He’s close to you, close enough to where you can smell the faint lingering scent of his cologne. Something different than that expensive one he wore to the courthouse, but it’s comforting somehow. A fragrance that’s more him. And you feel nervous as you look up at him underneath pale moonlight.

He lets go of your elbows. You feel cold from the loss of his touch. But his right hand moves to gently hold your left hand in his palm, holding it curled as his thumb barely grazes the stone you wear on your ring finger; the one he gave you.

The way his thumb prods at the silver band is like he’s inspecting its quality, as if it has to pass some test to be worthy of sitting on your finger. Or maybe just any finger, if you were to quell the delusion. You’re not sure if he’s satisfied with his inspection.

“Where did you get it—” you blurt out.

His gaze flickers up to your face briefly before he’s back to examining the ring. “It was my mom’s.”

Your mouth gapes slightly in shock, heart dropping a little in your chest, and all of a sudden you feel guilty. Guilty that he put his mother’s ring on your finger for something that was fake, something that was essentially a business deal, something exchanged to you out of fraud when it was a precious family heirloom that should be exchanged with love. And maybe he didn’t care about it much, some people don’t care about the sentiments of objects. But your mind thinks of the oaky vintage dresser in his room, so out of place in the aesthetic of its surroundings, a decision you can only imagine him of all people, mr. “everything in this house has to look like an IKEA catalog”, would do if the dresser held some importance to him that was more than meets the eye. And so you’re compelled to think that maybe this ring did, too.

“Why would you give me this?! You could’ve just gotten a cheap fake diamond ring from a pawn shop and called it a day,” you ask him, suddenly feeling burdened by it.

“Well I wasn’t exactly given much time to think of other options.”

“But—” you start, only to realize you have no counter arguments for that.

He lets out a huh noise, like the sound someone makes when they’re pleasantly surprised by something, as he looks down at your hand that he still held in his. “It’s kinda crazy that it fits you perfectly. I wasn’t sure.”

Your mind wanders to when he slipped the ring onto your finger in the courtroom, followed by the kiss. Soft, sweet, the lingering warm sensation of his palm on your cheek as he cupped your face, the same way those heartthrob actors do in all those romance movies and kdramas that you watch on Friday nights while snuggled up in a blanket, wondering when anyone will ever kiss you like that. You remember the ghost sensation of his hand hovering over the small of your back, fingers lightly grazing the nape of your neck, his frame blocking out everything around you as he kissed you, just to pull away and for the two of you to then pretend like it never happened, as if it wasn’t one of the sweetest kisses you’ve ever known.

You slowly pull your hand out of his, the moment feeling too tender for your liking, and you clear your throat before flitting your eyes up to his.

“Rule #1,” you remind him with a soft whisper, “no touching.”

You purse your lips, watching his round eyes blink once, then twice, before he shoves his hands in his suit pockets. He rocks back and forth on his heels for a few seconds, nodding slowly in submission, and then he turns on them to head back to the house. You’re standing a little stunned from the abrupt ending to this trance of a moment on the roof, and you’re also a little surprised with how your chest is heaving a little bit with fast breaths, but you eventually snap out of it to follow him inside too.

You two make it back inside the house, with little words exchanged. You pretend to not notice the way Gojo tilts his head at his desk, like he’s confused about why it looks tidier than when he left it. You’re prepared to feign innocence or ignorance, but he doesn’t press you about it.

“Y’know,” he says from behind you, his chest briefly brushing against the back of your head as he pushes the bedroom door in front of you open so that you can head out into the loft, “those oversized 1800s-esque nightgowns you’ve been wearing around the house kinda make you look like a less-hot version of Ebenezer Scrooge.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

“Sign right here for me, sir.”

You watch as the nurse slides the papers across the high-raised counter of the hospice nursing desk towards Gojo, his eyebrows narrowing as his eyes skim the words on the paper and land at the highlighted lines where he’s been intended to sign. You feel nervous for some reason, as if he’d suddenly find something disagreeable and refuse to sign, then take you to the courthouse first thing to finalize a divorce and send you off to prison while claiming he was blackmailed into the whole marriage in the first place.

Instead, he pulls a pen from the chest pocket of his suit jacket, clicking the end of it and scribbling his signature onto the paper with some jet black ink that looks like it takes a second to dry. How pretentious of him. The pink pom-pom pen was right there.

The nurse behind the counter continues to chat with him about something, blah blah dependents, blah blah tax claims, blah blah you’ll receive an itemized bill in the mail. You’re trying your best to eavesdrop in on the conversation, but most of your senses are being occupied by examining all your surroundings. When you dropped your mother off at the hospice, your feelings were at the forefront of conscience, but now that you’ve had a couple days to come down from that overwhelming emotional high, you’re here to scope out the quality of this place you’ve just dumped your mom at.

The facility is clean and sleek, with a color theme of red and an ocean blue across the signs, the furniture, even with the paperwork they hand out. All the workers had color-coded scrubs based on their occupation or specialty, and none of them had stains on the fabric. You take a glance down at the modest leather pumps you were wearing past the creases of the long skirt, and notice that the floor was shimmering off their reflection in a perfect polish. It wasn’t bad, this place.

“Thanks, you too,” you hear Gojo say to the nurse behind the counter. He has a professional smile on his face, but still kind and genuine, which makes the woman at the computer something bashful and unable to make eye contact. He folds something that looks like a receipt into his chest pocket before tucking his pen back in there too and then turns to face you. You make a mental note to pay him back for whatever he just paid for, at least once you move some money around.

Your eyebrows lift, feeling a little dazed as you blink at him blankly.

“Alright,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets, the sound of his shoes on the polished hospital floors satisfactorily tapping in your ears as he took a couple steps towards you, “where’s your mom’s room?”

“Huh?”

“What’s her room number?” he asks you.

“Y-You wanna go see her??”

“Of course I want to,” he says, “she’s my mother-in-law.”

You roll your eyes and pet the fabric of your skirt to smooth the wrinkles out. “You’re getting a little too invested in this role of fake husband.”

“I get to annoy you all day and ride the adrenaline rush of committing a federal crime,” he says, “of fucking course I’d get invested.”

You sigh, tossing some of your hair to behind your shoulder before glancing up at the signs, squinting slightly to locate the ward where your mother’s room is, before you hear an extremely high-pitched and somewhat catty feminine voice call out from behind you. You glance at Gojo’s face as he peers off to whoever’s behind you, and you see him visibly stiffen a little.

“Is that Dayton county’s sexiest realtooorrr???” the voice purrs, and you turn on your heel to see a blonde bombshell of a woman clacking her kitten heels down the glistening floors of the hospice, with another brunette bombshell just a few paces behind her. Bombshell #2 sighs something like “it issss” before they walk right up to your fake husband and take turns at giving him a playful squeeze of his bicep. You have to physically stop your jaw from dropping at the sight.

“Wow! Ladies, so–...so great to see you two,” he says out of polite obligation, and you immediately clock the fact that he doesn’t address them by name.

Bombshell #1 turns to look at you, all of her hair moving as one solid entity with the motion from all the hair spray that’s probably holding it up, and she points at you with a long slender finger that narrows into a french-tip. “Oh who’s this?? Another one of your clients??”

“Oh, no, she’s my–”

“I’m his wife,” you interrupt him, irritated for some reason.

Both the women chirp something out like oh! before their faces twist with confusion.

“I didn’t know you were married,” Bombshell #2 says in a thick New Jersey accent.

Gojo lifts his left hand up, the silver band on his hand glimmering under fluorescent hospice lighting. “Very happily,” he says, as if someone was holding a gun to his head.

Bombshell #1 crosses her arms, and you try not to stare at how nice her boobs look in the low scoop-neck jaguar print top she was wearing. You were no better than a man. And now you’re pissed off at the idea of Gojo glancing down too, but a flick of your gaze up to his face tells you he’s safe. For now.

“You weren’t married when I asked you if you were a month ago,” Bombshell #1 sneers at him. It’s true, the math wouldn’t make sense, but in his defense, this marriage was a fraud.

“Or when you took me out for dinner last week after I bought my house,” Bombshell #2 snarls with an undertone of hurt.

Gojo clears his throat beside you before pointing at Bombshell #2. “How is that, by the way?” he asks in an attempt to change the subject, “the half acre down on Maple Ave, right? You, uh, enjoying the pool?”

The woman let out an offended scoff and–were her eyes sheening with tears?? She puts her hands on her hips. “No. Mine is the three bedroom house with the cedar gazebo on 14th street.”

Her friend next to her rolls her eyes and smacks her gum between her cheek. “I’m the one that bought the half acre down on Maple Ave, jerk. Ugh!” She grabs her friend’s arm with a high-pitched hmph noise leaving her throat, and you can hear the other one sniffling subtly as she wobbles on her heels with her friend’s pull of her arm.

Right before leaving the two of you alone, Bombshell #1 turns to you and says, “I hope you find someone who treats you better,” and then they storm off together down the hallway, their perfectly blow-dried hair bouncing in sync with each stomp.

You blink at the sight, a little flabbergasted from the interaction, and then flit your faze up to Gojo. You see him awkwardly scratching at the back of his head with a grimace on his stupidly handsome face.

“That’s what you get for being a manwhore,” you tell him.

“I’m not a manwhor–”

“You went on a date with another woman while you were maaaaarrrieeeddd?!” you coo as you let out a fake gasp and slap your cheeks with your hands, “despicable, really.”

He lets out some disgruntled noise, the source coming from deep within his throat. “No. We weren’t fake-married yet,” he vindicates himself, “and it wasn’t a date. I just bought her dinner as a congrats for buying a house. Not a big deal. I do it for all my clients.”

“Satoru. You do realize you’re leading these women on, right? I mean, I’ve seen the way you talk to them. Even if you think you’re just being friendly, please know that your definition of friendly is most people’s definition of flirting.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s true.”

He raises an eyebrow as he glances down at you. “Alright, how come this flirting in disguise of friendliness hasn’t worked on you then?”

You scoff in disbelief before crossing your arms. Maybe you did deserve a better fake husband. “You’re never friendly with me. You’re always rude to me.”

“What? I’m not always rude to you.”

“Well, you’re certainly much more rude to me than you are to other women,” you say, tapping the tip of your shoe with irritation.

“Can we not do this right now? We’re in the middle of a hospice.”

“God, you’re such a cop-out,” you mumble as you forcefully push past him towards the hallway that’ll lead you to your mother. You can hear that Gojo’s on your tail, following you down one of the more dimly lit hallways, and you can tell he needs to stall the strides of his Daddy Longlegs to not overtake your pace.

“What the fuck is a cop-out?” he asks you from behind.

“Look it up on urban dictionary, Grandpa. Unless you don’t know what the Internet is, either,” you spat.

You waltz right up to your mother’s room just in time to see a nurse making her way out with a clipboard in her hands. She glances over to you when she sees you approaching in her periphery.

“Hi! How can I help you?” she asks.

“Is it alright if we visit my mother?” you ask her.

“Oh! Sure, let me just clean her bed pan really quick.”

Your brow furrows. “B-Bedpan?? Why is she using a bedpan??”

The nurse stops in her movements. “Well, yesterday and today, that’s just what she has decided to use.”

You immediately become hostile. “That’s not right. She never needed to use one at home. Why is she suddenly using one here? Is that not a clear sign of deterioration? The restrooms must not be kept well enough here if she doesn’t want to use them.”

The nurse becomes something meek, her eyes widening as her mouth gapes slightly. “Ma’am,” she squeaks out, “we see this commonly with patients as they begin to adjust to hospice life. We’ll urge her to use the restroom, but as of right now, we need to prioritize what she finds most comfortable.”

Your expression softens, your shoulders relaxing from their tense position, and you duck your head a little with guilt. “Right…I’m sorry.”

The nurse presses her lips together with a well-meaning smile before shuffling into the room and closing the door behind her. You sigh and lean your back against the wall next to the number plate, cheeks flushing slightly from the confrontation. You have no idea how loud your voice was or who heard you. But you try to convince yourself that you’re just stressed and trying to look out for your mother, although the guilt still sits.

You glance up to see Gojo staring at you with slightly wide eyes, his hands shoved into his pockets, and he tilts his head to study your expression.

“What?” you snap at him.

“Are you doing okay?”

“Just fine, thanks.”

“Are you sure?”

“Satoru,” you cut his questioning off by raising a palm into the air, “just—…just stop.”

His brow furrows together slightly, but before he can show any further concern, the nurse exits the room and holds the door open for the two of you.

“All set!” she chirps, and Gojo moves to hold the door open in her stead, and then the nurse bolts down to disappear somewhere down the hallway.

You hear Gojo let out a small huff of a scoff as he stares down in the direction the nurse ran off in. “Glad to know I’m not the only one that’s scared of you.”

You roll your eyes and walk into the room through the open door.

Your mother lays in her bed, looking out the window with her hands resting on top of layers of white linen sheets, her skin looking slightly paler than usual. You approach her bedside slowly and she finally turns her head to look at you.

“Hi mom,” you gently greet her, sitting down on the stool beside her bed, “how are you doing?”

Her eyes dart across the features of your face, and you briefly glance towards the wall to the right where you see Gojo standing from a slight distance.

“Oh, hi dear,” she says with a smile, and relief washes over you.

You match her smile with your own. “Mom, I brought someone here to see you.” You glance over at Gojo, who starts to close distance now as he approaches the foot of the bed, “this is Satoru, my husband.”

Your mother’s eyes widen, “Oh! I know him,” she scoldingly swats a hand at you, like you’ve embarrassed her somehow by assuming that she doesn’t know who he is, “he’s my neighbor!”

You sigh, “yes mom, the one that fixed the A/C?” You attempt to finish her sentence for her.

She looks confused for a moment, but slightly nods as if to avoid any further confusion for herself. “But—…but, why…” she trails off and then looks at you, “I’m sorry, are you my nurse?”

Your shoulders drop slightly. “No, mom, it’s me. Your daughter. Do you remember?”

Her face scrunches before it entirely relaxes to keep some image of composure despite the haze you know she feels in her head. “Oh…yes, yes…my little girl. I remember you, of course!”

Your eyes become layered with a slight sheen of tears, “I’m glad.”

“Where’s your father?” she asks, “he said he’d bring me some…oh dear, what—…he said he’d bring me tea. I’ve been waiting.”

“Mom, dad is—” you pause for a moment to think on your feet. You could either tell the truth, or a little white lie. You never know what to do. And either one comes with either guilt or sorrow. “Well, he’ll be here soon, I just wanted to come see you.”

“Oh okay…” she trails off, her eyes squinting at you once more with that same look of confusion on it, but then they drift towards Gojo. “Oh you’re a very handsome young man! You look just like my neighbor.”

Your eyes flicker up to Gojo, and he walks up to your side by your mom’s bed. “Yes, Mrs. l/n, I am your neighbor.”

“With the lemon tree!”

“The avocado tree,” you correct her with a small sigh. “And he’s my husband mom. And also our neighbor.”

“Oh I see I see…” she says, looking up at him, and in a moment that shocks you, she holds her hand up for him to take.

There’s a slight moment of surprise on his face too, but he accepts her frail hand in his, and you glance over to your mom to see her look at him with some look of peace on her face.

“Oh, sit down here, won’t you?” she tells him, and you both blink at her in a moment of hesitation.

He pulls a stool up to the side of the bed right next to you and takes a seat down onto it. Your mother holds his hand with both of hers now, soothing her palm over the back of it before she taps on it lightly.

“Oh, my little girl is very sweet. She would bring me flowers from the garden when she was,” she glances at you, confused once more, “well I remember her when she was so little but she looks…a little older now. Ah, but she would bring me such pretty flowers.”

Your heart aches in your chest. You never knew what version of you your mother would remember. Some days, you’re still supposed to be an angsty teenager that shuts doors in her face, some days you were just as you are right now, and other days, you were just her little girl. And it confused her, the image of not seeing you in the way that she remembers. In the only way she knew how.

“You’ll take good care of my sweet girl, won’t you?” she asks him.

And it knocks the wind out of you.

It drops your heart to the center of the earth.

The thought that, after so many moments where she doesn’t remember you, she still knows that you’re someone she wants to keep safe.

Your mouth gapes slightly, tears welling in your eyes and you try your best to blink them away, but you see Gojo’s hand slip out from being held by your mother’s hands, to instead use both of his to hold hers. Your eyes snap to his face, and you see that same earnest expression you’ve been growing used to seeing these days.

“Yes,” he responds, eye contact level with hers, “I will.”

A small puff of air leaves your lips, a single tear streaming down your cheek and you quickly swipe your trembling fingers to remove any evidence of it before you huff out a shaky, “excuse me.” And then you’re standing up off the stool, and in a few hurried steps across the room as more tears continue to stream down your face, you make it to the door to push out into the suffocating air of the hallway.

It’s hard to breathe, huffs and puffs barely leaving your lips as you struggle to pull air into your lungs while you storm down the hallway at a fast pace, your heels clicking underneath you in a way that only sets you off further. Suddenly, all the sounds around you make you sick to your stomach, a wave of nausea washing over you, and your nose burns with the intensity of the tears that continue to stream down your face. A few hospice staff look at you with concerned expressions, and you eventually reach a heavy-duty door that leads you out into a secluded staircase hallway where the dim lighting serves to relax at least some of your senses, but you still feel like you’re about to pass out.

Even in the haze of your emotions, there’s this glimmer of a memory that comes to mind. One from when you were younger and you were pushed on the playground at school. You cried and cried and cried in your mother’s arms, but even then, you didn’t want her to baby you. You would say to her, I’m a big girl now! in that same way a child knows nothing of what it truly means to brave the world.

That little girl had no idea that one day, there would be moments where she wouldn’t be remembered as her mother’s little girl anymore.

No matter how old you grow, you will always be my little girl, your mother’s voice echoes to you, the feeling of her squeezing you in her arms as she holds your sobbing little form in hers casting a ghost sensation across your skin.

In a mother’s eyes, you’ll always be her baby.

And that’s why it hurts.

Because it’s all fake.

It’s phony.

It’s not real.

This arrangement you have with Gojo.

And if your mother were to die tomorrow, there would be no one to take care of her little girl anymore.

Not in the way she believes there will be.

Of all the white lies, this one pierces you straight through your heart in a way that leaves you gasping for air.

Amidst your whirlwind of thoughts, you hear the door push open harshly, and when you glance over, you see Gojo standing in this dimly lit hallway as he turns his head quickly to the left and sees you standing there.

“Hey,” he says, catching his breath as he lightly jogs up to you, “hey, hey, hey,” he repeats with more concern now when he sees the state you’re in, and he seamlessly pulls you into a hug, your cheek pressing against his chest that feels warm even through the fabric of his suit jacket and shirt, and that familiar scent of him completely engulfs you.

You sob quietly, wiping your snot on his tie and your tears on the felt fabric beside it, your hands balled into tiny fists at your chest, squeezed between the two of you. You feel him tuck your head under his chin and his arms wrap around you tighter. You don’t even realize it at first, but suddenly, it has become easier to breathe.

Then, you wail, and you cry, and you sob, because you don’t have the words to even explain how you feel, about not just this, but with everything, a buildup of everything that has been suffocating you in your life that just comes crashing down on you all at once.

“I know,” he says, his palm resting on the back of your head as he holds your face to his chest, his voice soothing in your ears while you sob until there’s nothing left to cry. “I know.”

You two stay like this for another minute or so as you come down from the cries, your remnant sniffling echoing in the hallway while you wipe more of your snot on his jacket. You make the first move to pull your face away from his chest, but he still keeps his arms wrapped around you when you look up at him.

With your gaze darting across his face, you take in the blue in his eyes. Eyes that are looking at you so softly it’s suddenly hard to breathe once more. And when those eyes flit to your lips, your mouth parts slightly as you two breathe in unison.

It’s possible that you could have dreamed the moment you saw him lean down slightly towards you, his eyes still set on your lips, but it didn’t matter because you’re pushing him away with strong fists before you can even register the thought in your head.

He lets go of you entirely, his eyes wide once more, and you glance down at your feet.

A tender moment, just like on the roof, broken just because you can’t handle that—…that way, that intense way that he looks at you. New rule, no looking at me longingly like you want to kiss me. I won’t allow it.

“I want to go home,” you whisper, still examining your shoes. And you suddenly feel embarrassed that he had to see you this way. He’s supposed to be scared and intimidated by you, not holding you in his arms while you cry.

He’s silent for a moment, but you can tell he’s searching for things to say. “You don’t want to say bye to your mom before we go?”

You swipe your palm against the wetness on your cheek. “No. I just want to go home.”

“y/n,” he tried to convince you.

You finally look up at him. “Please.”

He breathes in a few breaths as he studies the features of your face in a way that makes you feel so seen that it’s frightening. But he slowly nods, then says,

“Okay.”

[end of chapter 4]

a/n. hi friendsss i hope you enjoyed :'') yea like i said at the a/n in the beginning, this chapter is a slight off-tangent from last chapter, but ch5 will continue with a lot of the stuffs that were brought up in ch3. but yea i wanted to explore the whole process of emotions reader would go through putting her mom in hospice, since it kinda felt like a big thing, hence why it got its own chapter. aaa i hope to see you in the next one!! much love from me :''0

➸ take me to chapter five!

note: please do not ask me for updates or when i will next update (read rules)

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chdarling · 7 days ago

Note

As we’re getting closer to a truly awful day for America, I just wanted to check in on you. Things are bleak and about to get so so much worse, I want you to know I’m here and many others are here too when you’re ready

This is very kind of you, thank you. Honestly, I have not been doing great. Watching my neighbors elect a racist, fascist, Nazi-loving rapist triggered a pretty bad depressive episode on top of what was already the worst period of professional and creative burnout of my life, so….I’m struggling. Still trying to claw my way out of the dark. I’m deeply appreciative of the kindness of this community and am sorry that I haven’t (and probably won’t for a little longer) been able to engage the way I once did. I will again one day, and I am so thankful to know all you wonderful people online. <3

On a note that is completely unrelated to this gentle ask, I’ve been getting a ton of messages lately asking for a date when TLE3 is coming out and I don’t feel up to answering them (sorry) so I’m just going to tack this on here since I buried my last post on the subject under a mountain of despair reblogs: TLE3 is going to take a while.

I’m still planning to continue with my writing projects (be they TLE or other things), but right now I’m focusing on securing my own oxygen mask, etc. When I finished posting TLE2, I said that I would be taking a break and also that I would not be posting TLE3 until I had written all of it (like I had for TLE1). Even if I had been writing diligently every single day since I posted the last chapter, I still wouldn’t be done, so please understand that it’s going to take a while. It certainly will not be coming in the next 6 months, very possibly not in 2025. I know some people won’t be happy to hear that, but just a fun statistic: OOTP has 257,045 words and took three years to write/publish after GOF. TLE2 has (and this makes me cringe a little) 407,079 words and took roughly 3 years to write as an unpaid side hobby on top of full time work, education, etc. I don’t say this to toot my own horn (frankly, it just makes me desperately want to retroactively edit the crap out of TLE2 lol), but rather to reiterate that writing a book-length work takes a lot of time, energy, and love. I don’t want it to take 3 years (and I don’t think it will, TLE3 will be a more reasonable length), but it’s certainly not going to be finished in a few months. That would be insanity and I am not that talented lmao.

I do know that the requests for updates come from a place of love and enthusiasm and excitement and I really, truly appreciate that. I also appreciate all of the kind words of the asks I haven’t been answering. Please know that I’ve read them, I love you, and I will be back eventually. I just have to focus on my health right now, and unfortunately these days being online is pretty bad for that, so I'm going to try to be logged off for a while.

And finally, on another completely unrelated but perhaps mildly tangential note: if anyone has any books recommendations or resources on processing climate grief, I, uh, could use them. 🫠

#ch answers #tle3

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dellalalakang · 1 year ago

Text

triple n: RIP kang della

masterlist | main masterlist

— lhs, pjs, sjy, psh —

well.......

contains: fivesome. really rough (choking, slapping, etc.), DELLA HAS AN IUD!!, della getting absolutely manhandled, her hands gets restrained for a bit, BUT THEN THERE IS A BIT OF DOM!DELLA ACTION, double penetration (as in anal), tiiiiiny bit of breeding kink, kitten as a nickname kink, daddy kink (sorry guys lol ik i said i wouldn't but i can't help it), i also said that they're never goofy during sex but we have the 02z in one session y'all— it's bound to get a little silly, LONGEST FIC I'VE WRITTEN (7.3k WORDS), longest + most detailed + most insane smut i've ever written omg i dont think i will EVER top this

happy belated anniversary my darlings 🤍 happy two years to della and her men (and alice) ✨

AND HAPPY ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY TO ENHA'S (5/8) LOSS IN NNN! this chapter takes place on midnight 2022/11/11 (so i kinda thought that was today bcs dumbo self messed up the dates so i'm one day late but it's all good)

hi guys! i missed you! i will try to reply to asks soon! i'm so sorry for disappearing again, life has been rough and moving too fast 😭 DID NOT PROOFREAD BECAUSE I AM EMBARRASSED

Kang Della is going to die tonight.

While not literally, she was definitely going to be reborn as a new woman.

"Lala, stop praying. You're not actually gonna die," Sunoo said, more interested in his phone than his overreacting girlfriend. "You're gonna have so much fun, and we have the day off tomorrow. It'll be great."

"Sunoo shut up and help me pray," Della herself was already dressed, cleaned up and ready to head out.

But certainly not ready to meet the hyuppas.

"Why are we even praying when you're going to be doing something so sinful?"

There were three possible outcomes from tonight; One, the hyuppas being so annoyed that they prefer to ignore her for a bit. Though that is just her anxiety talking.

Two, they would take turns with her for four days straight. Which also means that she would have a limp and some back pain for a week or so.

Or three, they would all have their way with her, at the same time.

And the last option seems to be the most likely.

❅◦❆◦❅◦❆◦❅◦❆◦❅◦❆

"Oh, hi! Oppa! Really funny seeing you here but Sunghoon-oppa asked for beer, so here—" Jake immediately pulled Della into his room before she could escape from what was coming.

"You're in massive trouble, young lady," the girl would've laughed if the situation wasn't as serious. Who actually says that sentence in real life? Sim Jaeyun, apparently.

"Oh, wow! All the hyuppas are here!" Della laughed nervously. "Seems like you guys are preparing to have a celebration together! Wouldn't want boring 'ole Della making things all boring!"

The stern look on all four men made Della withdraw into herself. She avoided eye contact by playing with her nails, mentally preparing herself for the scolding.

"Kang Della, sit down," Heeseung ordered, gesturing the couch with his eyebrows.

"Ah.. I really need to my room though, Yunji-unnie's waiting for me," Della hopes that she could somehow avoid the earful, though it is looking very improbable. "So I'm just here to hand over the beer and—" she gasped when Jay slowly took her hands and held them behind her back like a criminal.

"Do you know how hard it was to wait for you?" he said in a low tone. "The only reason why we did this stupid challenge was because of you."

Jay's deep voice caused Della's skin to erupt in goosebumps. She bit her lip as her heart started pumping faster. She tried to look into his eyes but quickly adverted her gaze when she saw how handsome he looked with his expression. She could feel herself getting wet again.

"The fucking audacity you had to lose to someone who wasn't even a part of this bullshit of a challenge," Sunghoon walked over and held her face with both hands. He noticed a familiar scent within the proximity. "You've been fucking drinking too. You did a lot with Sunoo, huh?"

She had forgotten about the alcohol in her system, now understanding why her brain seems so hazy. She barely drank anything, but she is a major lightweight. The drink Sunoo gave her, mixed with the lack of sexual attention (and undeniably, Sunoo's seduction) must be why she lost the game so easily.

"I wasn't thinking straight. I didn't plan it or anything. Honest!" she replied with puppy eyes. While the look stirred something inside Sunghoon, it certainly wasn't sympathy.

"Even if you didn't plan it, you still did it, didn't you?" he asked in an eerily calm voice. "You can't really take it back now, can you?" he brushed her bangs back but kept his hold firm. "Even if it was silly little foreplay."

Everything Sunghoon did just made her core uncomfortably wet. She was embarrassed to clutch her legs tighter but her mind was just occupied with how stunning he looked and how hot his words were.

"No," Della whined, shamelessly staring at his lips. "I'm sorry, oppas."

"Do you know what's gonna happen now?" Sunghoon asked, staring at her lips as well.

"Am I getting punished?" Della bit her lip at the thought.

"You're gonna deal with us four, yeah? We've been stupidly waiting for over a week," Sunghoon caressed her cheeks before forcefully making her look at the two boys on the bed. "Look at them. We all deserve to be relieved from this challenge, hm?" he whispered in her ear.

"Nghh," Della whined at the sight of Jake and Heeseung. They were sitting on the joint bed with a can of beer in their hands. They were intently staring at the three of them, anticipating their next moves and patiently waiting for their turn. They knew that hard-dom Sunghoon would be the best at disciplining Della in bed, while romantic Jay would really show her just how serious they are.

"Do you think you can do that?" Sunghoon whispered again, causing Della to gulp and nod her head. "Use your words."

"I'm gonna deal with all four of you," she said timidly. She has never handled more than two people before, and now she's jumping straight to four.

But she is excited. Extremely excited.

"Good girl," Jay kept his hold with one hand, using the other to stroke her hair. "Your safe word today is red and yellow, okay? Regardless of Korean or English."

"Okay, oppa," Della closed her eyes at the gentle kiss Jay left on her hair. Suddenly all the nerves left and she's just left with pure anticipation.

"Good girl," although the words were identical to Jay's, Sunghoon's praise sounded rougher, more possessive. "Now come here."

Sunghoon connected his lips to hers hungrily while his hands moved to grope her bare breasts under her pyjama top.

Jay let out a small smirk, his hands busily tying her wrists with the neck tie he prepared. His recently free hands then moved to unbutton her top, helping Sunghoon get easier access.

"You're not wearing a fucking bra. Sunoo must've enjoyed these babies, huh?" Jay said against her neck as his hands replaced Sunghoon's. The latter's opted to move down and roam his hands on Della's hourglass figure.

"Did he? Answer Jay," Sunghoon mumbled on her lips before shifting his kisses to her neck.

"No, he didn't," Della whimpered at the stimulation. Her legs were now almost crossed at how eager she is for some sort of sexual activity.

"Aish, that kid," Jay cursed, pulling away from Della to grab himself a beer. "Won 3N but didn't even fully enjoy it," he then pat Heeseung's shoulder and sat down beside Jake. "Tag. You're it."

Heeseung smirked, taking a big swig of his drink before making his way to Dehoon. With some liquid courage, he knew that they would all have a long, wild night ahead of them. They all definitely need a few cans because they desperately need this.

"You could've tagged me, y'know?" Jake pointed at his roommate.

"Shut up," Jay sipped his drink. "Just go over and join them– who's stopping you?"

"Nah, I'm actually enjoying the view," the younger laid back and rested his upper body weight on his forearm. The two watched as Sunghoon pulled away as soon as he noticed Heeseung.

"I told you to sit down, didn't I?" Heeseung practically mumbled, using his free hand to push her down onto the couch. "Why didn't you listen to me but obeyed Sunghoon and Jongseong?"

Della's mouth watered at the angle. If her instincts were correct, she was gonna suck someone off, most probably Heeseung.

And she absolutely loves giving head.

Heeseung especially tends to let out these adorable sounds that are music to her ears. She knows that he will try to hold them back since they're not alone, but she is determined to have this gorgeous man let loose of his (almost) equally gorgeous noises.

"I'm sorry, oppa," the lower angle made Della's puppy eyes look even more cute. "I was just nervous."

"You know what those eyes do to me," Heeseung ran a thumb over her lip. "Should we forgive her, Sunghoon?" he sucked in a breath when she took his thumb into her mouth to suck gently.

"We'll see about that," a loud zipper sound filled the room as Sunghoon aggressively undid his pants. "Open up," and his cock was in front of Della's face in no time.

She did not need to be told twice. Her eyes instantly closed as her tongue swirled around the tip. She played around with it for a few seconds before pushing it all the way to the back of her throat.

"Fuckkk, I missed this," Sunghoon threw his head back. "So fucking good," he bit his lip harshly.

Upon the sight, Heeseung hurriedly lowered his sweatpants with one hand, but struggled to get his hard-on out from the tightness of his boxers. He eventually succeeded once Sunghoon helped by taking the beer out of his hands.

"Pay attention to hyung too," Sunghoon said and took a large gulp of the liquid.

Della wasted no time in having Heeseung inside her mouth with her tongue swirling around the girth. She didn't care as her hair got everywhere.

"Thereee you go," Heeseung grunted, pushing the hair behind her shoulders and brushed her bangs back . "Ah fuck!" he bit his lip to try and contain his sounds.

"Ya– I meant divide your attention, not completely move on to him," Della gasped as Sunghoon pulled her hair so she could come back to him. "Back and forth, baby, you can do it."

It is definitely difficult. Della has never given head with her hands tied before, let alone with two dicks.

But if the boys know anything about their baby, they'll know that she is not a quitter; she will persist until she's absolutely certain she can't.

She bobbed her head two times on Sunghoon before switching back to Heeseung to repeat her movements, and doing the same to Sunghoon again. The perspective was so hot that Sunghoon's breath turned heavy and Heeseung's moans were audible again.

Jay and Jake, on the other hand, were getting a bit impatient because they could barely see anything. Sunghoon could almost sense it, and as he turned his head to look at his two best friends, he found Jake fiddling with his can while Jay tapped his hand in wait.

"Hyung, let's move to the bed," Sunghoon breathed out, pulling Della away from him and up from the sofa. Della whined at the loss but let herself be moved around like a doll. "Be fucking patient. You were willing to wait for a month, you can definitely handle a few seconds," Sunghoon slapped her lightly.

DellaTheMasochist only gave him an annoyed look with a bratty pout, making him slap her once more.

"Oh you're gonna be a little brat, huh? I'll deal with you fucking later," he then carefully pushed her to Jay's arms, causing Della to smile in adoration. No matter how rough sex is with Sunghoon, he's still a huge softy.

"Well hello there," Jay caught her with one hand. "Were you being a bit bratty?" he asked while fixing her hair gently.

"No, never," Della shook her head innocently. Sunghoon grinned as he opened himself a can, sitting on the bed beside Heeseung.

Her absolute brattiness only comes out to Sunghoon. She's an angel with Jay, putty with Jake, and a dominant with Heeseung.

"Of course not, you're our princess," Jay breathed down her neck and captured a nipple in his mouth. He blindly handed Jake his drink so he could use both hands to hug her waist. He spent a few minutes slowly enjoying her boobs, leaving hickeys all around the area.

The three knew that Jay liked his intimacy, so they didn't interrupt.

He eventually laid her between himself and Jake, opting to just stroke her hair for now. Della was settling into a more comfortable position when Jay noticed that Jake's hands were now free from the cans he was holding.

He gestured for the Aussie to begin, eliciting a grin from Jake before hovering above Della.

"Hi, baby," Jake whispered. His attractive face and accent left a small blush to her cheeks. "I missed you," he connected their lips together in a steamy kiss.

The thing with Dake is that they don't always have a clear dominant in the bedroom. Most times it's Jake while others it's Della. What's crystal is that they are really passionate together. Practically straight out of an erotic movie.

"I'm still annoyed about Triple N but I miss you too much to fucking care right now," he ran his hands down from her sides, eventually tugging her shorts and panties down as far as he could. "Just wanna devour you."

He then proceeded to make his way down until he was off the bed with his face in between her legs. He completely got rid of her lower garments and took a deep breath, biting his lip before diving into her heat. One of his favourite things to do with her, and something that she desperately needed.

"Ah fuck!" Della threw her head back, pressing her thighs against his head. "Ahhh Jakey!" she whined.

"Sensitive babyy," Jay cooed and held her face with his hand. "You almost gave this up for a month, you know?" he left small kisses all over her face.

"November's my birthday month, she ain't gonna give this up for the whole thirty," Jake pulled back slightly to comment. With his accent and slight mumbling, Jay could barely understand what he was saying. Della, however, understood perfectly.

"I told you that I would give you an exception, right?" Della's answer just connected the dots for Jay. Big mistake.

"You promised him an exception?" Jay halted his caresses to seriously ask. But Jake had resumed his mission, and Della is far too distracted to answer. "Fucking answer me– you gave him an exception?" he tightened his grip on her face.

"Y-yeah, for his birthday," Jay let out a scoff at her answer and humourlessly chuckled.

"I was gonna go easy on you and let these guys do their own thing," his voice turned rough, something he didn't think he would do tonight. "But you were gonna give Jake an exemption and that– pay attention," he slapped her lightly when she moaned to his face.

"Sorry, oppa," Della whined, finding it difficult to concentrate when Jake's mouth was pleasuring her so well.

"It pisses me off," Jay whispered roughly. "Instead of just calling the challenge off, you were gonna make the three of us wait 'til the end," he smirked at how hard she was struggling to contain her sounds of pleasure. He let go of her roughly to sit up."Sorry man, I gotta take it from here," he pat Jake's shoulder.

"Mmkay," Della moaned loudly when Jake gave out one last suck to her clit. "I call dibs on cleaning her off though," he smiled widely while licking his wet lips.

"Deal," Jay immediately flipped Della over onto her stomach. "Tsk tsk tsk, Lala..." he swiftly took his shorts and boxers off in one go. "Stay down," he firmly instructed as he removed her restrains.

The three boys couldn't stop the grin when they watched Jay unleash his beast. The Jay they've seen before was nowhere near as aggressive.

"Have fun, bro," Sunghoon hollered. "Have fun, princess," he toasted his beer at Della when she made eye contact.

"I'm gonna fuck you now, yeah?" Jay whispered in her ear. He noticed the goosebumps that rose on her back as he was lifting her hips and parting her legs. "Hold on tight," he warned, handing her a pillow.

He bit the bottom of his sleeveless shirt just so he could get a clearer look of his shaft rubbing against her folds.

"Aghh," both Della and Jay groaned when his full length entered her. "Fuckk!" after ten days, he knew he had to let Della adjust a little. Yet he also knew that she didn't need long based on how wet she is and how Sunoo had prepped her.

So not long after, he pulled back and thrusted into her. Hard.

"Ngghhh!" Della squeezed her eyes shut while tightly hugging the pillow. "Oppaaa!" she moaned loudly.

"God! I fucking missed this!" Jay grumbled out. The cloth was no longer in his mouth and he had his head thrown back. "Fuck!"

He kept his hands on her hips as he pounded into her. Slow, but powerful thrusts.

"Ahhh! Oppaaaa!" Della continued to moan loudly. "Oh my God!" she realised how noisy she was being, so she began to muffle her sounds into the pillow.

"Oh no you don't," Jay grunted. Instead of taking the pillow away from her, he decided to flip her onto her back. Essentially switching to the missionary position. "Oh hi there, sweetie," he smirked at her, leaning down to place a kiss on her lips. "Hold on," he forcefully placed her hands on his shoulders before resuming his thrusts.

"Shit!" Della gasped, struggling to maintain eye contact with Jay as he continued to fuck her in the same manner. "Jay-oppaaa!" she practically screamed. Her nails starting holding on for dear life, scratching the skin of his biceps and her mouth was stuck open with nonstop moans.

The three other boys were turned on as hell.

Jake kept adjusting the bulge in his pants while Sunghoon and Heeseung had to constantly shift in their seats.

Waiting was especially hard for Heeseung as he barely got to touch Della in ten days. So he downed two cans and working on his third in no time, making him slightly tipsy and extremely impatient.

And the sight of her mouth opening just reminded him of something.

"That's it," he crawled across to Jella's side of the bed. "Sunghoon said we were moving to the bed, so you're not done sucking me off," he sat on his knees beside Della's. "Sorry, Jongseong-ah," he breathed out and helped guide Della's mouth to his length.

"By all means, hyung," Jay pulled away and halted his movement to let Della find a comfortable position. "You better do your best. We know you can do it, baby," he whispered to Della, taking off his shirt as he waited.

"Shittt!" Heeseung moaned practically straight after Della's mouth wrapped around him. "There you go, baby– just like that," he assisted by thrusting so that all she had to do was just suck around him and pump what she can't.

"I'll start moving again," Jay began thrusting as soon as he alerted Heela. "Aghh," he grunted, furrowing his eyebrows together. The view of Della sucking someone off in front of him just made him want to fuck her even harder.

He needs to hear her moans even if they were muffled.

"Ahh! Lala!" Heeseung whined when Della kept moaning around him. "Just like that! Sooo good! Nghh!"

Since his mind was foggy from the alcohol, he didn't even bother to hold back on his moans. Even when they start to get a little too subby.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon and Jake wanted to join in so badly, but fear that they would overwhelm their baby. Though they can't just sit there and do nothing.

So they decided to devise a plan for when their turn comes.

"Have you... ever done anal?" Sunghoon awkwardly asked Jake after covering his dick with a pillow. "Like do it from the butt?"

"Me or Della?" Jake's question made the ice prince slap his arm.

"Della, of course," Sunghoon scolded.

"Ack! No– I just gotta make sure I understood what you meant," Jake explained. "No, we haven't."

"I have and I brought condoms and lube," Sunghoon pointed at his luggage. "So here's the thing... Della has been quite curious to try like.. two people.. like.." Sunghoon tried to find the words to explain it in a way that Jake would understand, knowing that the guy mostly knows English sexual terms.

"Like at the same time? Double?" Jake asked while bringing his hands up for gesture.

"Uh, double," Sunghoon nodded, instantly feeling awkward again. "Do you... wanna try it with me? It's her first time and maybe you can do the... back because you've never tried it before."

Jake was quick to make up his mind, all thanks to the two beers he had downed.

"Let's do it," he raised his hand to dap Sunghoon up. "Jellahoon, am I right?"

"Of course," Sunghoon grinned.

"Fuck! I can't cum already!" Heeseung grit his teeth and slowed down his hips. "Lalaaa," he whined.

It was then when Della finally pulled away from the blowjob. She looked into his eyes whilst her hand kept pumping his shaft.

"Heeseung, babyy. What did I tell you about holding back?" she forced herself to restrain her moans just so she could remind him who's in charge.

Fortunately, Jay, who was finding the exchange amusing (also wanting Della all to himself during his orgasm), had slowed down his thrusts to help her focus.

"To never do that because only bad boys hold back," Heeseung's rational thoughts went straight out the window. He was fully going to show his dongsaengs that Lee Heeseung is a sub. A major one. "But I'm not even inside you yet!"

"Come here, baby," Della got up from her position. "I'll be back," she placed a quick kiss on Jay's lips.

"Go ahead," Jay was so intrigued at his hyung and girlfriend's new side that he didn't care about his delayed orgasm— as long as he gets it straight after Heeseung reaches his.

"Poor babyy," Della cooed at Heeseung, brushing his hair back. "Why don't you sit comfortably and let Lala do the work?"

The 02z watched in amazement as they discover how their hyung is actually like in bed. They watched him obey Della's instructions like clockwork, as if he's done this a million times.

He rested his back against the pillows with his legs ajar. His large bambi eyes were stuck on Della the whole time, looking absolutely lovestruck.

"Take off your shirt," Della pointed lazily, getting on top of his lap. "You're a good boy, right?" she connected their foreheads together and aligned him to her entrance.

All Heeseung could do was nod enthusiastically.

"Then don't hold back," Della whispered before sliding down on his length.

"Ahh!" both Heeseung and Della let out high-pitched moans. As Della bounced up and down, Heeseung's hands automatically went to wrap around her waist.

"Sh-shit!" Heeseung hugged her tighter while squeezing his eyes shut. Because he was already close earlier, it took no time for him to reach that point again. "Lalaaa!"

"Feel so good, Heeseung– ahhh!" when it comes to Heeseung, Della (most of the time) tries to compose herself. She's taking care of him after all.

"Shit– is that what it looks like when Della rides you?" Sunghoon asked under his breath. "That's fucking hot."

His hand then tried to secretly stimulate himself, making sure that neither Jake or Jay could notice. Jay, on the other hand, was openly pumping himself, not caring that his best friends could be looking.

"Damn, you're pretty big, bro," Jake suddenly blurted out at Jay. "Nice one."

"Thanks, I guess," Jay chuckled and kept moving his hand, not feeling awkward in the slightest.

"Why were you looking at his dick?" Sunghoon snickered, but that brought Jake's attention to him and that's when the latter noticed his sneaky hand.

"Why are you secretly jacking off? Just do it like Jay, no balls!" Jake slapped his calf. "We're literally in the middle of a fivesun—"

"Fivesome," Jay corrected him.

"Fivesome!"

"Ew, no! I feel so exposed! Like I'll be jerking off in front of you!" Sunghoon completely removed his hand from his dick. "And it's easy for you to say! You're still fully clothed!"

"It's not like we've never seen you naked bef–"

"02z, if you're not gonna suck each other off then shut the fuck up," Della interrupted their bickering while making eye contact. "Your hyung's trying to cum in peace."

"Yes ma'am," "Sorry," "Sorry," they all apologised quietly, hoping that no one notices their erection hardening even more. They hate admitting their thirst for Della's dominance.

Or to be accurate; They love her dominance, yet hate admitting their desire to be like Heeseung.

But it's not like the 02z have never been docile to DommeDella.

"Sunghoon, don't be fucking weird or I'll repeat last month's occurrences," Della's threat immediately made Sunghoon's skin erupt in goosebumps. He just hopes that she won't elaborate and reveal to his friends what exactly happened.

Thankfully, she didn't.

"Are you okay, baby?" Della went back and cooed to Heeseung, keeping her pace steady as she cradled his head.

"I'm gonna cuuuum," he sobbed. "Fuck! Lalaaa!"

"There you go. Don't hold back, Heeseung baby," Della mustered up all the energy she had to quicken her pace.

"Ahhhh! Lalaaa!" Heeseung used his tight hold to assist her bounces before ultimately letting out a loud gasp as he released spurts and spurts of warm cum. "Oh my God, babyy," he sighed and relaxed his shoulders.

"Good boyy," Della halted her thrusts, caressing his hair lovingly. "Filling me up soo good," she placed tiny kisses on his head. "I love you, baby."

"I love you too, Lala," Heeseung breathed out. "Thank you," he pulled himself away to connect their lips.

They were stuck in a slow make-out session for a while before Jay grew impatient and pulled Della away from the older.

"You didn't forget about me, did you?" Jay grumbled in her ear. "I gave you time to fuck hyung but now you forgot about us?" he lifted her up like she weighed nothing and placed her front facing down.

"You're being rude, Jay. Your hyung needed to—" Della cut herself off with a gasp when Jay landed a firm spank on her ass.

"You're not in control no more," he said in a low voice, lifting her waist up slightly. "Where are your manners?"

"I'm sorry, oppa," Della whimpered when he spread her pussy lips. She could feel Heeseung's cum slowly pouring out of her. As always, he came a lot.

"Shitt– hyung," Jay called for Heeseung to see. The latter had pretty much sobered up from earlier and is back to his usual self.

And at least for now, he still had not realised what he had done in front of his dongsaengs.

"Keep it in, baby," Heeseung took two of his fingers and pushed the cum back inside her, causing Della to gasp. "Add onto it, Jongseong," he patted Jay's bare shoulder with his clean hand before heading towards the bathroom.

"My pleasure," Jay whispered. He wrapped his arms around Della's body and instantly pushed himself inside her once again. "Fuckkk, Della."

"Yess! Oppaa!" Della squeezed her eyes shut, letting out babbles of words that barely made any sense. She could feel Heeseung's cum slowly absorbing inside her as Jay fucked it deeper. The sounds of the moisture only turning on everyone in the room more.

"Fuck! You're gonna cum soon, aren't ya?" Jay's hard-but-slow pace tried to quicken when he felt Della tightening around him. "Just a little more, baby– Oppa's almost there, wait for me," he left kisses on the side of her face as he tried to concentrate on cumming together with his girl.

Fortunately for him, Della knows exactly what to do in this situation.

"Fill me up good, oppa. Make me feel so full," Jay had never verbally admitted it to her, but she knows that he has a breeding kink. "Stuff me full of—"

"FUUUUCK, I'm cumming!" Jay's left hand frantically went to search for Della's. "C'mere baby," while his right hand went to bring her face to his.

They connected their lips together, essentially muffling their moans (and screams). Della used her free hand to hold onto his head, making the scene look even more sweet.

"I love you, Della," Jay mumbled against her lips.

"I love you, Jay," Della whined at the feeling of her own orgasm mixed with Jay's (and Heeseung's). "So, so much."

"So, so much," Jay left a final kiss on her forehead before getting off of her back. His eyes immediately went to her cum-filled entrance. "Good girl, keep it in," he grunted, his eyebrows furrowing at the sight of barely any cum leaking out.

He chuckled when Della wiggled her ass for fun. "How cute," he slapped her ass and stood up. "Agh fuck, you really milked me dry."

"Come on, it hasn't been THAT long, guys," Della rolled her eyes. "We didn't even last the whole month."

Just as she finished talking, a harsher slap was placed on her ass.

"You fuck four men on a daily basis– you still think you could've handled it?" Sunghoon asked, flipping Della onto her back. "Do I also need to remind that you were the one who gave in first? YOU?" he grabbed onto her leg to pull her closer to the edge of the bed and closer to him. "Don't make me teach you a lesson."

"Go easy on her, Sunghoon-ah. She's about to receive a handful with you and Jaeyun," Heeseung reminded. He grabbed Jay's and his cans of beer before joining Jay on the bed. The two were now dressed in their boxers.

"Yeah, just shut up and let's do our shit," Jake impatiently took off his pants but kept his shirt on, only removing his zip-up. "You've done anal, baby?" Della nodded her head in enthusiasm. "Yeah? And you like it?"

"Mhmm! Are we doing what I think we're doing?" Jake chuckled at her excitement.

"You're adorable. Isn't it gonna hurt, baby?" the tips of Jake's fingers began grazing Della's thigh.

"I wanna be closer to my men," Della gave out a seductive look to both Jake and Sunghoon, making sure to use Korean so Sunghoon would understand.

"How cute," Sunghoon mumbled. "Don't forget your safe words," he ran a hand through Della's hair before laying down on the bed, legs still seated on the edge.

"Is she getting on top of you or me?" Jake asked his partner. "Isn't it more comfortable with you on top?"

"I mean... It's easier for me to thrust but it's more comfortable for her to hug me, no?" Sunghoon explained. "Won't it be unstable if she lays on her back?"

"No– Della should be on her stomach, on her back is difficult, I think," Heeseung pointed at the three.

"Are you doing double?" Jay's eyes widened when he realised what they were discussing.

"Uh," Jakehoon replied briefly.

"Then Della should be on her stomach and the one who does the back thrusts from behi– on top," Jay gave his take.

"No– the reason why I say she should be on her back is because she needs to be distracted from the pain and Sunghoon would be able to thrust and properly do that," Jake tried to explain his take. "Otherwise his movements are limite—"

Their discussion was cut off by a loud groan from Della, followed by the girl hovering over Sunghoon chest-to-chest.

"Stop taking so fucking long and just fuck me," she wasted no more time and slipped Sunghoon's cock into her entrance.

"Oh my God!" "Oh fuck!" the two hissed at the sudden feeling.

"Fucking finally!" Sunghoon threw his head back. "Come here, kitten," he repositioned Della a little so he could move more comfortably.

Thanks to his long legs, all he needed to do so was to hold her in place.

"So fucking tight," he said with gritted teeth. He was never one to make a lot of noises in bed, but with his buddies around, he's determined to look cool. He was gonna try to contain his facial expressions, which is something he never holds back on.

Yet his plan went straight out the window when Della adorably cuddled into his chest.

"Oppaaa," she whined.

"Aww, kitten– my princess," he cooed, bringing one of his hands to hug her close. "Does that feel good, kitten?"

Della could only mew louder and nuzzle her head more, making all four boys coo at the sight.

"This seems enough for you, baby. Do you really need more?" Jake went up to her face to tease while his lubed finger equally teased her back entrance.

Della looked into his eyes and said the one name that the two have kept a secret for a long time.

"Please, daddy?"

Jake halted for a second, taken aback at the sudden change of mind. He was not one to be shy about his kink, but Della was a bit apprehensive that the members just won't understand.

But weirdly enough, none of the boys reacted, as if they already knew of the fact.

"Sunghoon, stop moving for a second," Jake went back to his position and squeezed more lube onto Della's hole. "Stay relaxed, darling," he warned Della before pushing a finger in.

"Mmm," she closed her eyes and pursed her lips.

"I'm right here, princess," Sunghoon whispered in her ear. "Relax some more," and immediately continued his movements.

"There ya go, good girl," Jake muttered, slowly twisting and pumping his finger. When Della was almost fully relaxed and resumed her previous moaning, Jake gradually added another finger in and followed by another once she adjusted to that as well. "Such a good girl."

"Ahh! I'm gonna cum!" Della announced, pushing her upper body up to catch a glimpse of what Jake's doing. "Fuck!" her eyes rolled back as she turned back to Sunghoon. "Oh my Goodness!" her moans only got louder when she looked at Sunghoon's facial expressions.

As always, his eyebrows were furrowed the whole time while he switched between biting/licking his lips, having his mouth open or gritting his teeth. He had completely forgotten about his initial plan of restraining himself.

"Go cum, darling," he choked out, giving his last few hard thrusts after Della threw her head back and cried out.

He almost let out a sigh of relief. If Della waited just a few seconds longer, he too would've been calling to cum and he did not want that just yet.

"Relax a bit, kitten," neither Sunghoon nor Jake pulled out, but they wanted to give Della time to catch her breath.

"What a good girl," Jay noticed Jake ripping open the condom wrapper and immediately sprung to action. "Taking four men so well," he continued to drop praises while caressing her hair.

"If it gets too much, please let us know and Jake can jerk off for the night or something," Heeseung also joined in with a joke.

"Hyung!" Jake whined. He somehow successfully got the condom on with just one hand, and is now lathering his length with the lube.

"Byee daddy" Jay added fuel to the fire by grinning and waving at him.

"Shut the fuck up, Jay, I complimented you earlier," Jake sent a glare at his friend.

"The tension is insane. Now kiss," Della lifted her head to comment.

No matter how many times she has teased them, they have never expressed or voiced their discomfort, which she knows they aren't afraid to do. In Della's mind, this would imply that the possibility of it happening is not zero.

"Aish Lalaa!" "Eyy!" "Babe!" "Aghh" the four boys complained, with Jake adding an additional smack to her ass.

"You think his dick is big, right? You have my permission and sucking ONE dick does not make you ga—"

"Okay, that's enough," Sunghoon spoke up and gave her one hard thrust. "Jake and I still need to cum, princess. Stop the yapping."

"I'm sorry, oppa," Della whimpered, bringing her head down to rest on Sunghoon's chest again.

"I'm only letting you off since you've been so good to us, understand? Don't test my patience," he said in a low voice, his hips starting to move in a steady pace once again.

"Understood," Della let out a high-pitched moan at the stimulus but was cut off with her own gasp as Jake pulled his fingers out.

"I'm putting it in," Jake breathed out. He squeezed some more lube on Della's rim before slowly entering. "FUCK!"

"Mmh!" Della had her eyes squeezed shut, trying to adjust to his size (especially with Sunghoon in her other hole).

"Our strong baby," "Such a good girl," Jay and Heeseung showered her in praises, using their hands to caress her arm and back while Sunghoon does so with her hair.

"Fuck– so fucking tight," Jake threw his head back when he was fully inside her. "Hang in there, baby, good job," he smoothed his hand over her ass.

"Yellow?" Heeseung asked about the safe word, just in case.

"Green," she quickly answered. "Can you move slowly, oppa?" her head shifted to make eye contact with Sunghoon.

"Of course, darling," he placed a kiss on her hair before slowly pumping her. "Shit, kitten," he squeezed his eyes shut and threw his head back.

Because of Jake, she felt tighter than usual but was still wet as ever. He knew he couldn't last long, especially after nearly cumming earlier.

"Jaeyun, please move," Della breathed out, starting to feel pleasure again.

Both Jake and Della let out a loud gasp at the sensation. The pace began to quicken in no time, making the scene look like it came straight out of an incognito site.

"Oh my– fuuuuuuck!" Della moaned loudly, feeling fuller than she's ever felt. "Oppaaa! Daddyyyy!" little tears began pooling in the corner of her eyes. "Aaaaaaahhh!"

"So good, baby. Taking both of us so well," Jake leaned forward to mumble in her ear. "Shittt, so tight baby," his face held a large smile and left temporary hickies around her neck and shoulders. "My good girl."

There's no doubt that the back end is tighter, but Jake's favourite was really the sight of having two of her holes stuffed, and the fact that him and Sunghoon were the first ones to do that.

The three were so into each other that they didn't notice Heeseung getting up to retrieve Sunghoon's old, red iPhone. He knew that they would want the scene to be recorded— for their eyes only, of course.

"I'm recording," Heeseung announced before pressing record. They all turned to Heeseung for a second and resumed like nothing happened.

"Come here, kitten," Sunghoon grunted, pulling Della's face in for a kiss. She moaned into his mouth when she felt her two best friends quicken their pace.

She noticed Jake tugging at her hair, so she broke the kiss off to then connect her lips with his, bringing a hand back to hold his head in place.

Jay, who did not want to just lay there beside them, started playing with Della's tits while palming himself. He personally doesn't need more, but he did not want the video to appear awkward.

"You guys really look so fucking hot," Heeseung commented. He turned off the recording and went back to his original spot. "I wanna kiss, baby," his head got closer so Della could easily kiss him.

"FUCK! I'm cumming!" Della pulled away to scream out. Her eyes were closed shut and her open mouth spewed out loud whines after whine.

"Yesss, kitten," "Me too, baby, me too," Sunghoon threw his head back while Jake buried his face in her neck. It did not take the three long at all to reach their orgasm.

"Jay-oppaa," Della managed to let out, weakly stretching an arm out so he could come closer. "I haven't kissed you."

Jay felt his heart swell in adoration and he swiftly did as told without hesitation.

"Fuckk! Aaaahhh!" Della pulled away but kept their foreheads together and squeezed Heeseung's hand.

They looked absolutely ridiculous being in one big huddle (and it was certainly not the most comfortable), yet that was the moment when the five of them were just connected. It's what they needed and exactly what they hoped for tonight.

"I'm cumming, baby," Jake's voice was shaky, and his thrusts started faltering first. "Shit! Good girl, baby. Good girl, good girl!"

"Shit! Shit!" both Jake and Della came around the same time. The former usually takes his time to ride out his high but he almost instantly pulled out so Sunghoon could finish properly.

Sunghoon looked at him in thanks, immediately adjusting his position and hurriedly chased his orgasm. Della started shaking and screaming with overstimulation, letting go of Heejay to hold on tightly to Sunghoon.

"Shit! Ahh baby, almost ther– NOW KITTEN. NOW, now, now!" Sunghoon babbled a bit as his orgasm overtook his body. "Shit," he sighed and relaxed his body, still holding onto Della tightly. "You're amazing, princess. I love you," he chuckled breathily.

"I love you, my prince," Della breathed out with a smile.

The two shared a sweet kiss before Sunghoon pulled away and shifted Della over to Jake, who was now lying beside him.

"What a good girl.You're an absolute champ and you're incredible," Jake couldn't help but chuckle. "We're so fucking lucky, baby. I love you so much," he then connected their lips in a passionate kiss.

"I'M so lucky to have you guys and I just love you sooo much," once they pulled away, Della's head instantly went to rest on Jake's chest. "Let's clean up before we get too tired."

"Oh no you don't," Jake shifted their position so Della would lay on her back. He got on top of her with a mischievous grin on his face.

"I called dibs on cleaning you off, remember?"

Eventually everyone washed up and got ready for bed. They decided to all sleep together on the makeshift king-sized bed with Della in the centre. They were cuddled closely, but it didn't really matter anymore to them.

"Guys, we're actually really cute," Heeseung giggled. "I fucking love this relationship."

"Just a bunch of bros with our girl" Jake sighed. He held Della tighter to his chest and shut his eyes, ready to sleep.

"For a second there, I thought you were gonna call me a hoe," Della giggled, looking up at him.

"I'm never gonna call you a hoe, babe! I'm not Sunghoon!" Jake's reply made Sunghoon smack his shoulder.

"I will never call her that!" Sunghoon looked at him with betrayal. "I don't even know what that means but I know it's bad!"

"You call her names in bed, we all know it!" Jake protested back.

"Ya– rarely ever, right princess? Only on certain times and we both have no issues with it," Della nodded at Sunghoon's defence. "See?! Don't kinkshame me, daddy."

"YAA!" Jake shaking Sunghoon's leg off of his own.

"Today's session just revealed everyone's kinks," Jay laughed. "Sunghoon likes to call Della 'kitten', Jake likes to be called 'daddy', Della apparently likes anal," he stopped himself for saying Heeseung's out of respect.

"Pffftt, okay mister kinky. Didn't know you could go hard like that," Sunghoon grinned. "I thought you just liked vanilla but you were slapping Lala and everything."

"Why do you like to get slapped?" Jay ignored Sunghoon and asked the girl he was semi-holding.

"I don't know! Sometimes I just like things!" Della shrugged defensively. "I like a whole bunch of things!"

"Yeah and your boyfriends all like different things too," Sunghoon chuckled. "You're absolutely perfect for us."

"Awww," Della grinned but got shy and hid her face in Jake's chest. "I'm sorry for making you all join No Nut November. This was really dumb and I'm also really sorry for losing to someone who didn't even join."

"Don't worry about that, darling. It's all forgiven and practically forgo—" Jay's words were cut off by the boom of Heeseung's voice beside him.

"WAIT!" Heeseung shot up straight in realisation. Della and Jake both jumped in surprise while Sunghoon and Jay flinched. Heeseung looked back at them with horror in his eyes.

There was a reason why he was quiet the whole time. It's because it just hit him how;

"YOU GUYS FUCKING SAW ME IN MY WEAK STATE!"

i gotta be honest, i hate to be that person but i was feeling really insecure about my writing tbh. like the first draft was not hot AT ALL and i wanted this long awaited/overdue smut to make you guys all hot and bothered y'know? i think it's much better now and i'm feeling both proud and insecure but i hope you enjoyed it and happy anniversary! taglist: @duolingofanaccount @lalalalawon @clar-iii @deafeningballoonpeach

#enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #kang lala #sunghoon smut #heeseung smut #jake smut #jay smut

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howling-medic · 2 months ago

Text

Impertinence

Summary: Five times Pippin call Aragorn Strider in places he shouldn't, and the one time he didn't. With an epilogue and bonus snippet because I couldn't leave it where it ended. This is entirely unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.

A/N: Holy shit. This was kind of a beast to write. I also wrote it mostly while on shift, so I'm really hoping I caught all my mistakes, and it's mostly decent. I am not sure how happy with this I am, but I think it is as good as I am going to get it. If I keep agonizing over it, I'll never sleep today. So, up it goes. Also, I am too lazy to make this into multiple chapters right now. Maybe one day I will, but it is not this day. For now, there are headers at the start of each section

This whole thing came about because I mentioned to someone that I want Fourth Age content because I wanted to see Pippin being a little shit in court, and I was told emphatically that Pippin would clearly grow up and behave himself. I think that's insane. Pippin is a socially skilled class clown with a high level of intelligence. He also has zero regard for authority figures. So I wrote a whole fic about how much of a dork Pippin is and how Aragorn adores that dork - even if he a giant pain in his ass.

TW: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, angst, sadness, heartbreak, mentions of alcohol

WC: 7562 words (This was never intended to be this long, y'all.)

Making An Entrance

“Strider!” The shout cut through the den of the courtyard of the Citadel. King Elessar sighed fondly and turned to find Pippin jogging towards him in his road dirtied court attire. In the past two years Aragorn had learned one thing: every time the young hobbit came back to court, he would call the King by his old moniker in public at least once. Usually more. As with each time, everyone in the vicinity turned to search for the source of the disrespect to their monarch.

“Thrain Took,” Aragorn called in greeting. At the use of his title, Pippin’s ears went pink, and Aragorn laughed at the sight of the very moment the young hobbit realized his mistake. To the utter shock of any in the area who did know of Pippin or the story of the name Strider, including the Harad emissaries who had come to discuss a new trade agreement, Aragorn knelt to welcome his friend with a warm embrace. “How are you my dear friend? How was your journey?”

“Ach, I am as well as ever! The road was long, but certainly shorter than my first journey here.” Pippin was about to launch into a long winded tale of the trip and all those he and Merry saw along the way, as well as all the doings of The Shire. Aragorn could see it in the hobbit’s eyes. Just before he could open his mouth, Aragorn interjected, “And I cannot wait to hear all you wish to share. I am certain we have much to discuss politically and personally, but I do not wish to keep you from getting a bite and a bath, so go freshen yourself. Then come to my quarters for dinner.”

Pippin glanced over Aragorn’s shoulder and saw the assembled group of men waiting on his liege to return, and then he looked back to Aragorn. His lips pressed into a thin line. The group of Harad dignitaries looked utterly aghast at his apparent impudence. Aragorn shrugged nearly imperceptibly and rolled his eyes, at which Pippin’s face lit up anew. “As you wish, Strider.” Aragorn barked out a startled laugh and shook his head.

“Fool of a Took,” he murmured and rose to return to the Harad behind him. “Gentlemen, where were we?”

“You accept such disrespect from a creature so small? Was that a child?” One of the men asked while his eyes followed the retreating form of Pippin.

“That,” Aragorn said in a voice still light with laughter while watching Pippin disappear inside the Citadel, “Was a hobbit of more renown and valor than you could imagine. His name is Peregrin Took. He is the Thrain of the Shire, and a Knight of the Citadel. He was also one of the nine of the Fellowship of the Ring. He, the others of that party, and the Thrain’s kin are the only people from whom I accept that name. So no, my lord, I suffer no disrespect, nor was that a child.” The laughter in Aragorn’s voice died, and he turned back to the group before him. “I would advise you to not disrespect hobbits in this court - particularly those who were a part of the Fellowship. They are much beloved by myself, my household, and this land.” The three assembled emissaries took a collective half step back. Looking at each of the three in turn, Aragorn found his humor and patience was spent. Silent judgment and covert murmurs about his patience with Pippin he could handle, but the incredulity in this man’s voice with no knowledge of what he spoke, of who he spoke, was not something Aragorn could not abide. “I believe we are done with negotiations for today.” He broke off for the briefest of moments and pushed aside the temptation to put these three men, the truly impudent ones in this situation, in their place in favor of remaining diplomatic. “Let us resume tomorrow for I desire to inquire after Thrain Took’s companion, Meriadoc, and hear the news of a region of my land from which I receive very little.”

“My lord,” they said in unison.

Aragorn took his leave. As he turned, he caught their shared look of disbelief. “Strider?” he heard one ask. “Hobbits?” another asked. “Strange land and a strange people,” the final man declared. Aragorn chuckled. Once again, he was going to have to have a word with Pippin. No matter how much more he loathed the Harads’ words, Pippin had to watch around whom he spoke in such a manner. Even if Aragorn wished it was not so.

However, later that evening as Aragorn entered the sitting room of the Royal Apartments, the earnest look of joy Aragorn saw in Pippin’s eyes when he exclaimed the name - the one given to him by an innkeeper that Aragorn once loathed - stayed his tongue. With a sigh of relief, the High King of the Reunited Kingdom lifted the winged crown from his head and placed it upon the black velvet cushion on a side table that was as near to the door as possible without blocking it. Then he did away with the heavy blue velvet cloak adorned with the crest of the House of Telcontar selected by his attendants specifically for his meeting with the Harad dignitaries. “Strider indeed, my friend,” Aragorn said with a fond chuckle. “You truly will never let that name remain in the past, will you?”

“Why ever would I?” Pippin asked. His brows furrowed in earnest confusion. “It is the name I first knew you by, and someone has to keep you grounded and your head from flying away with those wings you wear.”

Aragorn laughed. It started as a choked back sound of surprise and devolved into a truly uproarious, booming laugh. So few dared to speak to him in such a manner that it was refreshing to hear such cheek. “Verily, and I suppose one so close to the ground would be just the person to do so?”

“Precisely! I am glad you understand!” Pippin beamed up Aragorn with mirth and mischief dancing in his eyes that spelled nothing but trouble. The Ranger of the North could not find it within himself to fret over it.

Of Hobbits and Their Food

“Strider! Do not be absurd!” Pippin cried with his hands thrown up in exasperation. Aragorn resisted the urge to let his head fall to the wooden table before him. The assembled council looked in utter disbelief at the impudent hobbit in their midst. The annual meeting discussing each region’s harvest dragged on well past lunch and was showing no signs of stopping - despite the originally listed eleven o'clock end time for the meeting. Several regions’ summers had been unusually dry, and The Shire’s harvest outperformed all others. As a solution, one of Aragorn’s advisors proposed requisitioning a small portion of its grains and preservable legumes to help offset the dearth from the other areas of Gondor. Pippin was displeased with the notion, to say the least, and turned that displeasure to Aragorn. The King sat with his fingers steepled on the table. It was logical, but many hobbits viewed ‘Big Folks’ with intense weariness. Declaring a portion of their harvest the property of the crown would only validate that weariness and breed resentment in a fledgling political relationship. The crown was meant to protect that vulnerable region, not pilfer from them. Yet, his other territories were in a precarious position with meager stores to last the winter.

Of all the times and days to use the old nickname, this was the least ideal. Years with poor harvests led to contentious, and frequently panicked, fall assemblies of regional Lords. This assembly included many from outlying communities who did not frequently make it to court. Protesting a proposal was one thing. An outburst that - given their ignorance to the background of the familiar title - would appear to these Lords as impudence was another. Impudence they would perceive as tolerated by their King, which they would likely take to mean their King lacked control of his troops and court. Aragorn could feel every eye in the room trained on him, awaiting a response. Awaiting his rebuke to the comment.

“Nothing has been decided Thrain Took,” Aragorn responded coldly. The emphasis he placed on Pippin’s title drew smirks from several Lords. Pippin did not flinch.

The ever genial hobbits looked back at his friend with narrowed eyes. An unmeasured emotional outburst may have drawn the name from Pippin, but he showed no signs of being cowed that easily. “My apologies, Lord,” Pippin said bitterly. Aragorn suppressed a sigh of defeat and smile simultaneously.

“State your case for reserving your resources. It is only right we hear your rebuttal after hearing the argument for requisitioning some of your bounty.” Aragorn’s tone took a more neutral tone. Arguments could remain behind closed doors - in places where the defiant nature of his friend would not raise eyebrows. Now was the time to draw an already overlong meeting to a close without further incident, so Aragorn could rein in his frustration for the time being.

Pippin spoke eloquently of the need to keep The Shire’s resources within and not dispersing them, his tone turning to a dispassionate recitation of facts and history. He outlined the way they often support outlying communities like Bree and the general distrust nearly all the ‘shire folk felt’ of any situation where resources were taken in such a manner following Saruman’s abuse and subjugation. It was a persuasive case that Pippin would not have possessed the maturity to articulate five years ago when Aragorn met him in the Prancing Pony or four years ago when the hobbit first rode back to his home. The spirit and fierce protectiveness of his kin was the same, but the ability to debate over argue was a new development that Aragorn felt privileged to have witnessed. The inability to relinquish the old moniker of Strider in public seemed an enduring habit, however.

Lunch was sent for as soon as the King left the meeting hall. Pippin sat before him with defiance radiating off him in waves. The look in his eyes was so similar to that which Aragorn saw in Rivendell when Elrond attempted to send Merry and Pippin back to the Shire instead of with the Fellowship that it nearly made him laugh at the old memory. Almost. “Peregrin Took,” Aragorn started, “We have had this conversation before.”

“Yes, and I have told you before that I am not likely to ever truly change. I may be older, and I may have fancy titles, but I am still no more than a hobbit from the Shire.”

“Is that so? Are you not a knight of the citadel and a member of this court? The designated ambassador from your land and representative of your people?” Aragorn asked, voice stern and lacking any of the humor with which he typically spoke to his friend. Even in their most heated political debates and spirited debate over old history, neither were prone to harsh tones.

“Aye, I may be, but I am still simple folk. Unschooled in court and prone to gaffs.” Pippin’s protest held no water, and he knew it. Five years of serving in the court as Thrain of the Shire left him well schooled in court affairs - even if he traded on his humble, rural appearance and accent frequently in court dealings.

“You know it causes a stir throughout the whole of the court each time you do that?” Aragorn asked sharply. “It reflects on how I manage my advisors and troops. I know things change slowly in The Shire, if they change at all, but are you so incapable of change yourself? Can you do as your King and liege lord commands in this, if you won’t do it for your friend?”

Pippin visibly deflated as Aragorn spoke. His shoulders drooped and his eyes fell to the cluttered desk before him. “Aye, Strider. That I can do. So long as I can still call you as I ever think of you out of earshot of those who fuss about such odd things.” Aragorn softened then. As I ever think of you. The simple statement drew a lopsided smile to his face that was reminiscent of the first night he met Pippin in Bree, the one that played across his face each time the four hobbits impressed him with their boldness in the face of fear and peril and each time they showed their heart and wisdom along their long journey. “Do you still see old Strider in me? You did once promise to ground me in that version of myself, did you not?”

“That I did, and that I do. You may wear fancy clothes and bathe regularly now, so your old rascally look is gone, but that does not mean you are not the rascal I first met. How many times do I have to tell you this?”

“I dare say it will be many times yet in the years we spend together. I find less and less of the Ranger in myself each day I spend in these stone halls.” “Do you not sneak out anymore? Slip past your guards and flee to the woods?” Pippin asked.

“Not in many months. I have been tied to this desk long into the night, and when I am not I am with the little ones. It also seems that many people who have no right to an opinion on the matter feel rather strongly that I ought not to ever be anywhere without a guard.”

“Would it please my lord to escape this evening then?”

“Did we not just say that we need not use titles away from listening ears?” Aragorn inquired through a laugh.

“That we did, but I am still an ass and a Fool of a Took after these many years. I shall do as I please behind closed doors and do as you please beyond them,” Pippin answered simply and grinned.

“I suppose I can abide that,” Aragorn replied and fell silent for a moment. “I do believe an escape into the woods sounds like a wonderful idea - plus none can protest that I will be unprotected with a Knight of Gondor at my side.”

“Excellent! Then let's settle the matter of the Shire’s crops, so we have no work to haggle over while we are beneath the stars…Strider.”

Feasts are for celebrating

It was the Midsummer’s Feast, and all the remaining members of The Fellowship, their spouses, Éomer, Lothíriel, Éowyn, and Faramir sat at the head table. A few notable dignitaries from Aglarond and Legolas’s kin in Ithilien had also been designated seats of honor with the tightly knit group of nobility. Eight years into the Fourth Age left the lands prosperous and healing. Areas that had long since not seen inhabitants were being rebuilt. Maps were being redrawn with each passing year because they lacked new settlements. That was a struggle all were thrilled to have.

Eight years of retelling stories, however, meant they only still possessed roots in the truth. With each new recitation details were exaggerated anew. Drama was added. Some events were simply fabricated from nowhere. Some were far guiltier of these transgressions than others. Pippin was fairly notorious throughout the Reunited Realm for embellishments - especially when the wine and ale flowed freely as it did at feasts. As it was at this Midsummer’s Feast. “Strider! Strider!” Pippin called from halfway down the table. The guests of honor from abroad, who were seated next to Pipped, gaped at the hobbit who had already shared many fascinating tales that evening. “I was rather indisposed with dancing and singing, and you were the only one with Frood at the time in the Prancing Pony. Could you tell us the story of what you saw - or didn’t see, for that matter - in the tavern when he disappeared? These lovely gentlemen from Aglarond have not heard that story yet, seeing as we had not yet met Gimli!”

Each person well acquainted with Pippin, and his propensity to forget proper etiquette, looked around the table and then to Aragorn. Every feast it happened eventually, no matter how many times Pippin was lectured, and each time his friends reacted the same. Aragorn was beginning to wonder if Pippin acted as he did simply to get a rise out of those around him. Someone has to keep you grounded and your head from flying away with those wings you wear echoed in Aragorn’s mind as he watched the familiar sight of the friends he called family react anew to Pippin’s antics. Faramir grumbled something incoherent into his glass of wine, for which Éowyn promptly kicked his shin. Éomer snorted out a rather undignified choked laugh. Lothíriel glared at him. Merry groaned into his hands to muffle the sound. Legolas pressed his lips into a thin line to hide a smile. Sam shook his head in dismay. Rosie giggled into her napkin. Gimli had no such compunctions and chuckled rather loudly. Diamond sighed and looked apologetically at Arwen. Arwen visibly fought back laughter. Aragorn, donning the Winged Crown and Star of Elendil, pinched the bridge of his nose, sighed, and proceeded to give a full recount of the events in the Prancing Pony the first night he met the hobbits. That retelling quickly led to several more tales shared - and debated. Tales of travels and battles, and all the embarrassing mishaps and pranks along the way. The formality of the night quickly devolved, and strict court manners gradually faded from each of the friends.

After a few more glasses of wine and ale, Pippin was far from the only one at the table who had their fun at the expense of the King sitting at the head of the table. Merry recounted the time Aragorn “mercilessly taunted me while I was ailing in the Houses of Healing! I had just stabbed the Witch King himself, if you’ll believe it, and here was my friend telling me I had lost my gear that was sitting by the bed the whole time!” Gimli and Legolas shared many tales of their time as ‘The Three Hunters’. The one that earned Gimli the most laughter was the abject horror of being awoken well before dawn only for Aragorn to lay himself flat on the ground for “nearly a whole age of men” to declare many horses were nearby…only for Legolas to be able to see them on the horizon and correctly count them. Éomer was all too happy to chime in that Legolas had been only three riders off on his count, before adding his own note on how he nearly killed all three of them on sight. He then apologized to Merry and Pippin, for easily the hundredth time, for almost inadvertently killing them while killing the band of orcs who had captured them.

By the end of the night, King Elessar doffed his ceremonial headwear and pulled out his pipe. Once he lit it, he tossed a bag of pipeweed to Pippin with a grin and a nod. The court gaped at the King who had turned into a Ranger before their eyes, though many who had seen this mood take their Lord before just chuckled. Aragorn looked around and grinned. They could gape and murmur, for this night was a celebration of all that had been hard won, and the uncouth and unendingly frustrating hobbit gesturing wildly while telling all there was to know of the Battle of Isengard and the Final March of the Ents won much of their bounty back for them. Tonight needed no lecture.

Joyous News

Nearly silent feet padded down the hallway outside Aragorn’s office. Had Aragorn not spent several decades around hobbits, and a decade listening for that sound in his own palace, he never would have heard it. Pippin had been in Minas Tirith for only two days, and mischief was already afoot apparently. “Stri-” Pippin started and skidded to a halt, and his jaw snapped shut. “My Lord,” he began again and then addressed the Captain- General standing before Aragorn’s desk. “My sincerest apologies to you both,” he mumbled. Glee still danced in the hobbit’s eyes despite the faint hue of pink on his cheeks. “I will come back later. I did not mean to interrupt.”

“Peregrin,” the officer said and gestured him into the office, “join us. There is clearly news to be shared. Do not let me keep you from it.”

“Sire, please. I mean no offense, but this is news I need to tell Str- King Elessar alone.” Pippin caught himself midway through the old nickname. When he did, he looked up at Aragorn rather abashedly - the pink dusting to his cheeks darkening. Rarely did Pippin truly feel shame for breaking proper court etiquette, but breaking rank in front of his superior military officers was one of few things for which he felt ashamed, however. His place within the army was more ceremonial than anything else at this point, but he drilled each time he came to court and practiced with any those he could at home. It was a matter of pride that he maintained his skills. The practice of going through his drills kept the memory of Boromir alive, and Pippin meant to honor his promise to Denethor to serve Gondor until his dying breath in repayment of his debt for Boromir’s death.

Aragorn sighed and rose from his seat. He was not escaping the back and forth of deference that was brewing between these two. Pippin had already derailed the meeting and taken the focus off the report of Southrond raiding parties harrying several outlying communities. “Captain-General, if you would please excuse us for the briefest of moments. Clearly something urgent of a personal nature has come up, but I will return shortly.” Aragorn’s voice was tight, but he motioned towards the side door that led to a private side room off the office. Pippin shuffled in behind Aragorn. The embarrassment at his multiple slips of the tongue were gone from Pippin’s face when Aragorn turned to face him. All that remained was a grin that stretched from ear to ear. “What on all of Arda is going on? And did no page or guard inform you I was in a meeting?” Aragorn asked.

“Well, as for pages and guards…no, but I did not really give them a chance to stop me either, for all my excitement.” “Then out with it, man!” Aragorn laughed, shaking his head with disbelief and amusement alike. His aggravation was quickly waning in the face of Pippin’s delight.

“I’m going to be a father! Diamond is pregnant!” Pippin exclaimed.

The Captain-General standing on the other side of the thin wall with his urgent report no longer held even a fraction of his importance as he had moments before. Aragorn dropped to his knees to embrace Pippin. Aragorn’s lingering annoyance at the interruption and Pippin’s continued struggle to keep the name Strider behind closed doors was forgotten. “Well, that is a worthy reason to interrupt a meeting - and a reason to celebrate!”

“I would say so! Though, had I known you were otherwise engaged, I would have at least waited in the hall. It’s not as though the bairn is not going anywhere just yet.”

“No, indeed, but I will gladly be interrupted for joyous news, my good hobbit.” Aragorn looked to the door and then back to Pippin. “I have to hear this last report, but go find Arwen and Diamond. I think we are all done working for the day. It is time to celebrate a new generation of Tooks.” As Pippin turned to leave, Aragorn added, “But Pippin, you have to let the staff stop you next time even if I welcome interruptions for good news - and please, after ten years, stop calling me Strider while we are working.”

“As you wish, Strider!” Pippin called halfway out the door. Aragorn groaned and shook his head, gesturing for the Captain-General to take the seat across from the desk.

“Do not ask, for I have neither the time nor the energy to explain,” Aragorn said in answer to the inquisitive look the man gave him.

Infrastructure of the Fourth Age

“It will never work, Strider,” Pippin interrupted in the middle of Aragorn’s explanation of his plan to dig new wells in the lower levels and outlying communities surrounding Minas Tirith as the city’s population outgrew the confines of its walls - and the limits of their water supply. Most of the assembled advisors, craftsmen, and lords present were well used to the behavior of the Thrain of the Shire. However, Several were not, and they looked wide eyed between the King and his Knight. Aragorn looked at the ceiling as though he expected to find an answer to the riddle of Pippin’s behavior there. There was none. Strictly speaking, he was not even needed or invited to this meeting, but he had a habit of poking his head into court sessions that were not pertinent to his duties or position.

“Thrain Took. Please. I welcome your thoughts and opinions, but I cannot abide your interruptions or use of familiar names during council meetings. We have discussed this at length,” Aragorn said sternly once he looked back at the hobbit and after a long sigh.

“My apologies, your majesty, but I do not beg your pardon. You cannot hold this old hobbit at fault. I simply forget myself in my advanced age,” Pippin said. The room stilled. Aragorn laughed despite himself. At one point, he hoped and expected Pippin to mellow as he aged, but the opposite proved to be the case. Each year the hobbit became bolder, but he was savvier about it. There were few times, however, where he sounded much like his younger self.

“I have heard that excuse before from an old hobbit in Rivendell who blamed senility for gaffs. I did not believe him then, just as I do not believe you now,” Aragorn said and smirked.

“You may choose to believe me or not as you wish,” Pippin said with a shrug, “but that does not change the fact that I think this plan is entirely foolish and ill conceived - and I agreed to march on the Black Gates with you. And that was a plan with near certainty of death and small chance of success. This, I would wager, has no chance of success.” A few of the younger people in attendance gasped. Most of the older council members laughed under their breath. Pippin matched Aragorn’s smirk and did not flinch. This was the level of pointed discussion they reserved for Aragorn’s study and had over a bottle of wine. However, Aragorn had not shared this plan with Pippin - as it truly was not a plan that impacted the hobbit in any fashion, nor did it seem a plan that would interest him. Apparently, he should have.

“And do you have another suggestion then, Thrain Took?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Pippin declared in a smug tone with a grin to match. “We just had to manage the exact same issue in Hobbiton - granted we lack the many levels and such owing to most hobbits not even handling homes with second stories well, let alone a city of multiple levels with buildings of even more levels - but good ol’ Merry and some of Legolas’ elves came up with a brilliant way to reroute some of the water from the Brandywine to make new distributaries! I think we may need to do the same here.”

“And why would wells not work as they always have?” Aragorn challenged, but his words held no heat, nor did he ask unkindly. There was an elegance to the idea Pippin was proposing, and Aragorn was keen to hear it. Now came to the political jockeying needed to sell opposition to one of Pippin’s less tactical rebukes of a plan proposed by Aragorn. “How in the world do you think you are going to find new well sites that nobody in the history of this city has found? Are you going to go digging up roads all over the first and second level? No. You most certainly aren’t. Instead you can reroute some small distributaries off the Anduin to create a water source in the outlying communities and then work with Gimli and the other dwarves of Aglarond on a system for running that source up to the first and second levels. They have to have a system for it in their caves.”

“Master Thrain,” Aragorn said flatly.

“Yes, my lord?” Pippin asked.

“I am commissioning you back into my service for this project. You are now the lead on it. But, Peregrin, do not interrupt me like that or address me so in any of the meetings on it again.”

“I shall do as my lord bids me,” Pippin said. The smug grin on his face had never faded for a moment. The old members of the council rolled their eyes, and the young ones still gaped at him. Aragorn sighed and shook his head once again.

Sounds You Miss

Years dragged on and Aragorn found the gift of his long life became a curse once again. His friends were aging before his eyes while he stayed ever young. Sam sailed after Rosie passed away. Éomer died in the autumn two years before. The men of Aragorn’s guard when he first took the throne were dead or fading before his eyes. Their sons served him now. This was not the first generation of men that had passed before his eyes, but this was the first he had spent the majority of in one place, the first he tied himself to closely.

Aragorn sat upon his throne and attempted to focus on the day’s open court. Truly, he put a valiant effort towards it, but his mind refused to bend to his will. The citizens of Gondor brought their woes, struggles, and strife to him once a week - more often if he could manage it- and he always listened intently. He did his best to resolve each issue that came before him, and he was known for his attentiveness and benevolence amongst his subjects. Today he simply could not manage to keep his focus trained upon the proceedings. It was instead in the building nearly directly below him where Merry and Pippin had resided for some time now. Neither were well. The ravages of age spared none of the mortal beings of Middle Earth, no matter how desperately those who would outlive them wished it to be otherwise. Their aged bodies looked like shadows of the young hobbits Aragorn had once known. Merry struggled to use his right arm no matter how Aragorn strove to heal it. Pippin fared far worse. His lungs failed him frequently, and his knees plagued him with pain. Despite it all, they still insisted on coming up to the citadel for nearly every meal, and their spirits were high as ever. Age and weariness could not diminish those, nor could it quiet their laughter. Withered as he was, Pippin continued to be as unruly as in his youth. Except for the past few days. Of late, He seemed distant - like he had one foot beyond this land.

Heavy boots thundered down the hallway towards the throne room. Aragorn tensed. All eyes turned to face the source of the sound. Eldarion came to a skidding halt before his father. He faced King Elessar red in the face and panting. “Pippin?” Aragorn asked. His voice was already thick and choked with tears. His son need not answer. Lest peril had befallen his siblings or mother, there was nothing that would have made him run so. All the same, Eldarion nodded. Aragorn rose slowly from his seat and composed himself enough that he hoped his voice would not shake. “Court is adjourned for the day.” His voice held an air of finality which none dared defy. “Please see the Master of Ceremony on your way out, and he will take note of that which you came to address. When I am able, I will review all issues submitted. Now I must attend to a matter that I fear cannot wait.” With instructions given, Aragorn stepped down from the throne and moved as hastily as he could without looking entirely undignified through the crowd of subjects, but as soon as he was out of sight of the main hallways and corridors, he was running.

The air in Bair Nestad felt stifling. There was a tension that could have been sliced through by a sword. Every healer stepped aside wordlessly and bowed their heads as Aragorn made his way to Pippin’s room. Typically, he was greeted with warm smiles entering this space, and not infrequently he offered aid or advice. Not this day, however. The scene that greeted Aragorn on the other side of the door brought him up short. Merry - old and stiff as he was - was seated cross legged on the too big bed. Tears ran silently down his cheeks while he dabbed at Pippin’s forehead with a wet towel. The younger hobbit’s face was pale. Far paler than he had been even the night before. A cough had plagued him for weeks, but he had continued to claim all was well. Now his lips had gone blue. Even the sound of heavy footsteps did not rouse Pippin. “The fever took him in the night. Didn’t tell a soul,” Merry said without prompting, “he can’t catch his breath anymore.”

At the sound of Merry’s voice, Pippin’s eyes opened slowly. His gaze was unfocused and distant until he saw Aragorn. At the sight, his face broke into a weak smile, but before he could say a word a coughing fit that wracked his entire frail body overtook him. “Let me go fetch some herbs. We can treat the fever and soothe the cough,” Aragorn began, but Pippin shook his head with what little strength he could muster.

“There is nothing left to try,” he croaked. His voice was so faint that it could barely be heard even in the silent room. “Just come sit with me, my old friend.” Aragorn sighed. Every part of him yearned to fight the invisible foe that plagued Pippin. This was no battle that could be won with Andúril, nor yet by all the trainings of Elrond in the days of his youth. This battle was the same one that destroyed the Númenoreans and nearly decimated Gondor itself. It was one with no victory. The battle against time and age.

“As you wish,” Aragorn answered reluctantly after several seconds.

Aragorn sat beside Pippin for hours. There was idle chatter here and there. Sometimes with Merry while Pippin slept. Every once and a while, he would wake, and the three friends would recount the old days, rather Merry and Aragorn retold Pippin’s favorite stories to him with Pippin correcting them when they forgot the fabrications he added over the years. Eldarion and all those who had come to love the Thrain over the years came by to say their goodbyes. The King never left his Knight’s side. Eventually Pippin let him send for Athelas to ease the pain that came with each coughing fit. It comforted all who sat vigil, and the tension lessened in Pippin’s face while it brewed beside him. The room smelled of the woods of The Shire, and when Pippin first smelled it, he smiled and sighed. “Home…would that I could see it once more.”

“Maybe you can, Pip! We might be able to take one last grand adventure yet!” Merry tried to make the words sound hopeful, but they came out hollow.

“I think the only adventure that awaits me, old Merry, is whatever comes next. If you do make it back to The Shire, tell Faramir I love him for me. I’ll tell Sam and Frodo ‘hello’ for you, when I get wherever I am going - if they ever went there, that is.” Pippin’s words were weak.

With each time he woke, his gaze became more distant. Both Merry and Aragorn clung tightly to his hands as though they could keep their friend with them for even a few extra moments if they just held on tight enough.

“Merry lad,” Pippin murmured at length.

“Yeah, Pip?”

“I don’t know if I ever thanked Treebeard for making me the tallest hobbit on record. Could you do that for me, please?” Both Merry and Aragorn laughed through the tears rolling down their cheeks.

“I think I can manage that, but I think he knows you are grateful to him for it. Don’t worry about that just now.”

“I wish I could see him again. Him and Quickbeam. They are such odd fellows. And Bombadill. We never would have made it home without them.”

“We will make sure they all know they were on your mind,” Aragorn said gently and had to swallow down the lump forming in his throat.

“We never could have made it home without you either, and to think we almost didn’t trust you to go with us at all.”

“Well, don’t go counting me in that tally, Pip. I wasn’t there to not trust him, remember?” Pippin laughed. The sound came out more as a wheeze that caused him to start coughing once more. His lips were even more blue than when Aragorn first reached the Houses of Healing, and Pippin’s fingers were cold in his hand. “But I won’t fight your revisions - just this one time,” Merry added as an afterthought.

“Our King and protector from the day we met you,” Pippin said. A smile graced his features, and for just one last moment Aragorn could see the young hobbit that asked him about second breakfast, and then Pippin’s eyes fell closed for the final time. The name Strider seemed to hang in the air, but Aragorn never heard it again.

Epilogue:

Pippin laid in state for a week. Tradition stated he be laid to rest in his uniform, but Merry insisted he wear his favorite coat and scarf, and so it was. At Aragorn’s insistence, Pippin’s livery lay folded at his feet to carry his honor with him wherever this last journey took him. Aragorn would not dream of laying Pippin to rest in his uniform either. He was a hobbit of The Shire foremost and a soldier second, but he fought valiantly. He needed that honor to stay with him. His sword, in true warrior’s fashion, was placed upon his breast. It was an odd picture: the bright colors of a hobbit’s traditional dress paired with the barrow blade. It felt fitting for the hobbit who caused trouble everywhere he went. Aragorn could think of nothing that would bring Pippin more joy than to know he caused a ruckus in court even in his death.

Mourners lined up all the way down to the fifth level to bid farewell to Ernîl Pheriannath. Each day the queue would begin at sunrise, and each day they came to lay flowers at the base of the bed upon which he rested and say their final goodbyes. A mere few hours before Pippin’s funeral, Aragorn stood before him. Aragorn wore no royal finery - hadn’t since he returned to his chambers from Bair Nestad - instead he wore the same clothes he wore the very first night he met the hobbits in Bree. The coat had more patches and the shirt was more threadbare than that night, but it mattered not. They were more treasured to Aragorn than any ceremonial tunic and cloak. No other hand mended them, not even Arwen. Now more than ever before they felt sacred. A last anchor to the Ranger of the North to which Pippin swore to serve as anchor.

Each time Aragorn thought he could cry no more tears, more welled in his eyes. Now he wept openly. The sobs rang off the stone walls. It was not the first time in the past week he found himself in this position. The first night Merry found him there, and they cried together. When there were no tears left in either of them, they took a bottle of elven wine to the outer wall and drank and shared stories until the sun rose.

This night nobody came, and Aragorn was glad for it. Anger held his heart as much as grief. Blessed with long life, they said. It was no blessing to watch nearly all he held dear fade before his eyes. It was a curse greater than any he could fathom. There were only so many friends one man could lay to rest and watch sail away from him. Each time Aragorn stood before a crowd and spoke of the courageous deeds of those he fought beside and journeyed with it felt like his world shrunk that much more. Pippin left the world far smaller than his small stature accounted for and quieter than Aragorn could have ever predicted. At each turn he expected to hear “Strider!” called from down the hall followed by the sound of small bare feet slapping the stone.

With a shaky step, Aragorn stepped up to Pippin. For just a moment, Aragorn saw the hobbit as he was during the War of the Ring: a young hobbit asleep in a bed roll who needed to be roused for another day on the march. A simpler time - albeit infinitely more perilous. A time before Aragorn wore the weight of the winged crown. “Strider I shall ever remain, my dear hobbit, ere I draw my last breath. I shall not let the wings of my crown fly me away from my roots.”

Bonus:

Aragorn never experienced the Sea Longing of the elves, but he knew when it was time to lay himself down for his final rest. His body did not move as it once did, and he was weary. This world no longer held him like it once did. When the time came, he said his goodbyes and felt no regrets. Arwen asked one last time for him to say, but Middle Earth was no longer his home. Aragorn had given every piece of himself to it. To saving it. Rebuilding it. Nurturing it. Growing it. His time had come to an end. When Aragorn shut his eyes for the last time, rest took him quickly, and at last he was at peace.

He tried to roll over and shield himself from the light to sleep a few more minutes, but then his mind caught up to what he had just done. Aragorn’s eyes snapped open, and he was forced to blink against the brightness until his eyes adjusted to light around him. It seemed to have no clear source. He was laying in an unfamiliar bed. The room was nondescript and unadorned with no windows. Aragorn sat on the edge of the bed, assessing the situation. An open door faced him with an even brighter hallway beyond it. With no other clear option, he slid on the boots beside him. The feel of the old leather brought a smile to his face. Then he grabbed the familiar green leather jacket laying on the end of the bed, and walked out into the hallway.

One end of the hall was a dead end and the other was the source of all the light. It was a blindingly bright glow that obscured any terminus. Aragorn faced it and concluded that was the only way he was supposed to go. With a sigh, he set out to whatever lay beyond. As he neared the light, it resolved into a large, open corridor with many hallways branching off of it. Aragorn looked from one direction to the other and froze. His eyes flitted from side to side. Anxiety seized him. Just as he was about to choose a direction at random, the sound of small, bare, running feet came echoing down the hall on his left. Aragorn froze. He refused to feel hopeful. Refused to look. “Strider!” a familiar voice cried from his left. Aragorn’s breath caught in his throat. Fifty three years he had waited to hear that voice say the name that had hung in the air since after he died. “Strider!” he called again, and Aragorn turned to see Pippin barreling towards him at a pace the hobbit had not been able to run for many years. He looked just as he had that first night in Bree down to his jacket and scarf.

“Pippin,” Aragorn sobbed and fell to his knees just in time to catch Pippin in his arms. “My dear, dear hobbit. How I have missed hearing you call that name.”

“Did you manage to stay firmly on the ground, or did those wings you wore fly you away? I hoped I reminded you who you are enough times before I left you, but I have fretted a few times that I didn’t quite do enough.”

Aragorn shuffled back from Pippin enough to take a good look at him and shook his head in disbelief. “You did plenty enough to remind me who I am, but I hope I never have to go without hearing you call my name - whichever you want at any time and in any place - ever again.”

“Well, you are in luck, Strider. As it turns out, we hobbits go the same place men do, and everyone is waiting for you.”

A/N: So I made myself cry like 17 times writing the last parts of this thing. I apologize for the pain, but I hope you enjoyed!

///////////////////////////Tagging those who liked my original post//////////////////

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gwynethshadowsinger · 6 months ago

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My Thoughts about the Bonus Chapter(s)

Feysand - Happens around Ch. 22 (I think)

I do think everyone has spent a long time assuming Elain is sweet and innocent and that we will end up seeing a different side emerge when it's time for her story to be told. I think she's a lot like Lucien. Willing to stand back, but won't be afraid to step in and show that other side when needed. She'll access her surroundings beforehand, though, and act accordingly. Almost like a sly fox just waiting for their moment 👀

Feyre is right. If Elain had been wearing the gloves Lucien had gifted her the previous Solstice, she wouldn't have gotten hurt by that stubborn rosebush. Is this particular phrasing some type of foreshadowing for Elucien? Will Lucien protect her from any and all harm if she's just let him in instead of running away?

I loved finding out where the baby's name came from 😍

Azriel - Happens around Ch. 58/59 (I believe)

Poor Azriel. He just wants a mate and what Rhysand and Cassian has 😭

I didn't much care for his interaction with Elain. It felt wrong and off. He's full of negative, only sexual emotions, and him being around her is not good for him.

Azriel shouldn't be trying to go after a female who has not rejected the bond, especially knowing how he holds the mating bond in regard.

I also didn't like how Elain was willing to let Azriel kiss her so close to her (supposed) sleeping mate. Both of them were in the wrong here.

That rose necklace..... Elain was hurt once again by something with roses. This is the second time Sarah has mentioned her being hurt by something with roses. That's gotta be intentional on her part. Maybe Elain will give Lucien a chance now? I doubt she'd end up hurt by him. He's done everything to respect her and is just waiting on her to come to him. I really hope she does.

Rhysand asked all the right questions 👏

The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it's possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another. Boy... you couldn't even say Elain's name?!?! The Cauldron also only turned two sisters. Not three.... so he's already way off base....

Azriel admitted he didn't get far with his planning, certainly never behond the fantasies he pleasures himself to after saying Lucien would never be good enough for her...well that absolutely killed any lingering thoughts I had about a potential pairing between him and Elain. Yuck. I'd want a man to think of more than just sex and for his own sexual purposes. Lucien so far is the ONLY male good enough for Elain.

He'd been so vigilant about keeping away from Elain as much as possible, and had stayed up here to avoid her, and tonight... tonight had proved he'd been right to do so.

His interaction with Gwyn was 😍😍😍😍

I LOVE the shadow's reaction around Gwyn. How they dance with her breath. How they were calm and content to sit on Azriel's shoulders after something restless settled in Azriel. How they SUNG BACK IN ANSWER!!! If that isn't major foreshadowing, idk what is.

I'm insanely proud of how far Gwyn has came to.

Again...the necklace.... while I HATE he regifted it... I love this ending to the bonus chapter. How he found himself in front of Clotho, unconsciously.. almost like he was drawn by something 👀

He might not consider Gwyn a friend, BUT.... I say that might change in a big way.

THAT ENDING!!! The SPARK ✨️ The PICTURING OF GWYN'S EYES LIGHTING UP. THE TUCKING THE THOUGHT AND PICTURE AWAY DEEP DOWN WHERE IT GLOWED QUIETLY. THE SLIGHT SMILE THAT ACTION CAUSED THAT HE HAD TO CONCSCIOUSLY ERASE... OMG ARE THEY GOING TO BEMATES?!?!?!

A THING OF SECRET, LOVELY BEAUTY!!!! AHHH!!!!

These bonus chapters totally made me 100% an Elucien & Gwynriel supporter.

#gwyneth berdara #azriel shadowsinger #gwynriel #elucien #pro elucien #pro gwynriel #acosf #a court of silver flames #bonus chapter #feysand #azriel bonus chapter

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featherstorm2004 · 1 year ago

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Nana Shimura's guilt

Ok, so I'm sure plenty of people have noticed that in the latest chapter Nana has been insisting that Izuku must kill Shigaraki and that he's a wall that Izuku doesn't have to climb over. And I want to discus that as whilst I certainly don't agree with her, I find her reasons for such a perspective to be fascinating.

But let's begin with a trend I've noticed in any chapters where Nana and the vestiges talk about Shigaraki, and that's the fact that despite originally agreeing to go along with Izuku's wish to save Shigaraki they constantly refer to him as an 'it' or a 'thing' more often describing him as something less then human. And whilst it may not be surprising for the others to refer to him this way, it is incredibly disturbing that Nana his own grandmother seems the most determined to remove Shigaraki's humanity.

In fact it appears to be a theme that anyone who had a personal stake in how Shigaraki came to be are the one's most determined to ignore any sign of personhood inside him. This can be seen with Grand Torino, who despite having come to the realisation that his and Nana's decision was a mistake, seems to double down and tries to convince Izuku that killing Tomura is the better option; hell, literally the moment Shigaraki's identity is reviled he is the one to convince All Might that he isn't worth saving and that no matter his bloodline he's still a villain.

And he says this with full confidence despite the fact All For One outright told them both that he deliberately groomed Shigaraki to hate All Might and only chose him to mess with his enemy.

Even All Might chose to give up on Shigaraki very quickly and hasn't even thought about him since he found out, which is honestly really sad because of all people he should have been the one who cared the most, especially since he knows one of the only reasons All For One chose to mess with Shigaraki was to hurt him.

Which brings me back to Nanna and why she is acting the way she is and honestly, it's most likely due to a number of reasons and guilt is likely the most prominent one. After all it was her choices which led to Kotaro becoming traumatised and despising hero's, and it was because she was a wielder of One For All that her family/Tenko was targeted. Now I'm not saying it's Nana's fault Kotaro became an abuser, after all he was a grown man who was more than responsible for the way he handled his trauma however, that doesn't erase the fact that she was the root of his hatred which he passed down onto his son.

Not to mention she knows that the main reason Tenko was targeted was for revenge against her for defying All For One, so not only dose she have to deal with the fact that her son abused his child to near insanity but also her mortal enemy, who killed her, her master and tried to kill her student also groomed her grandchild to hate her, hero's and to become his next vessel.

That a lot of guilt for anyone to be burdened with and whilst it isn't directly her fault, the birth of Shigaraki is a result of the legacy she left behind.

And she obviously can't cope with that because if she did, it would basically invalidate every sacrifice she made for the sake of protecting One For All, so what dose she do? Well she makes a very human mistake and choses to ignore it. After all if Shigaraki is just a monster, a creature beyond human understanding then she doesn't have to face the guilt, "it was out of my hands, what could I have done?" "there's no point in dwelling on what could have been".

Ironically it's the same response All For One had regarding his own humanity. Essentially she's taking the responsibility out of her hands in order to protect herself because if she dose acknowledge it, it would essentially be an ego death for her and well humans are naturally programmed to protect ourselves at all costs. It's not nice but it's the truth, which honestly makes someone like Izuku stand out more.

Izuku has no reason to sympathies with Shigaraki, he has no idea what he's gone through or the history behind his creation but despite that he is the only person on the hero's side who has NEVER ignored him. Hell, even back in the mall scene where Shigaraki practically had him a gun point he still took the time to listen to him and give him a proper answer to his question and clearly what Shigaraki said meant something to him as he ask's All Might about it later.

It's clear that ever since these two have met that for some reason, whether it be the legacies they both carry or the fact that Izuku is just an innately empathetic person, these two have shared a connection. It's like Izuku and Shigaraki said, it's almost like fate has brought them together and we'll just have to see however that played out.

However, it's abundantly clear that whatever might happen between the two of them for Shigaraki to be truly be saved Nana and by extension all others who have kindly rejected Shigaraki will have to eventually accept that he is in fact human. They cannot keep pushing things under the rug because Izuku won't let them.

#shigaraki tomura #nana shimura #midoriya izuku #my hero academia #character analysis #mha #bnha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #bnha meta #boku no hero academia #bnha shigaraki #bnha deku #bnha 412 #mha 412 #bnha nana

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aihoshiino · 7 months ago

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chapter 153 thoughts

Heads up, this chapter review contains canon typical discussions of abuse, CSA and suicidal ideation.

Chapters Since The 143 Kiss Happened And Went Entirely Unacknowledged And Unaddressed Count: Ten! TEN chapters since the 143 kiss happened and went entirely unacknowledged and unaddressed! Ah hah hah! [<- read this in count von count's voice]

Aqua Hoshigan Status: (Still) white

LET'S

FUCKING

After like 140 chapters and an RPF jumpscare, we finally get a continuation of 152's impromptu father-son therapy session and start digging into the real deal no bullshit Kamiki Hikaru's brain and his relationship with Ai. A lot of the stuff laid out here are things that I had personally speculated about in prior posts and it once again feels really satisfying to see that I've been keyed into what the series has been laying out for its characters now we're getting some answers.

Before digging into the meat of things, the usual shout out to Mengo's art for this chapter. I am repeating myself on this point to the extent that I say "i know I say mengo's art is really good every chapter, but" every chapter but holy fuck, dawg. The expression work, especially on Kamiki and Airi is so fucking good and the way it contrasts the movie's portrayal of those events is insanely effective. I am Once Again begging the universe to conspire events such that Mengo draws a horror manga someday pleeeeeease I have been so good

kamiki's production house being called EYES is so on the nose it looped back to being genuinely hilarious to me.

Honestly this chapter is soooooo hard to talk about w/o me wanting to just break down every single line of dialogue in it and I already know i'm gonna go sicko mode talking about the flashback so I'll broad strokes it for now. What I WILL say is that Hikaru fucking quoting the opening monologue of the series got me right in the gut. These last two chapters have been really laying it on thick with the volume 1 callbacks and while this too is ridiculously on the nose it did make me start barking like a fucking dog so who's to say if it's really good or bad.

Hikaru's POV here in general is just fascinating. It's so juicy finally getting some insight into his weird little brain right from the man himself. The way he's characterized here - or rather, the way Hikaru chooses to characterize himself - is extremely compelling. He seems resigned and weary, almost - surrendering himself to the role of the despicable villain with a sort of wry self-awareness that got a bit of a dark chuckle out of me.

What's most interesting though is the final exchange between the two of them. Hikaru dismissing the idea that Ai ever loved him is understandable but what really jumped out to me was Aqua's respose to this - he honestly seems like… not just confused but almost mad that Hikaru supposedly still doesn't understand Ai's true feelings.

also. can i just say. i earnestly and genuinely thought the DVDs had been completely forgotten and were never going to come back up. what a jumpscare.

real bold of aqua to say this is nonfiction after the whole rpf debacle btw

We transition at last into an actual honest to god flashback to his past from Hikaru's actual POV, the likes of which I didn't think we'd ever get lol. I take Hikaru's lack of quibbles with his portrayal in the movie and that the flashback begins at Airi and Uehara's funeral as an indication from the story that 15YL's portrayal of Hikaru and those events is true enough that it doesn't need to relitigate them and thus, we can analyze this flashback with those events as context.

Something I couldn't help but notice immediately is that Hikaru's hoshigans start off as white this chapter. Given the future/hope (white) futurelessness/despair (black) dichotomy the last handful of chapters seem to have cemented, I think this makes a lot of sense in representing that while Hikaru is certainly not over his trauma, he seems able to conceptualize a future for himself now that he isn't bound to Airi; he has escaped her grasp. Or so he's able to believe, for a moment.

God, Hikaru's little meltdown once he spots Taiki is so heartbreaking. Kindaichi obviously means well, but his words must have sounded like a horrifying curse to Hikaru - the idea that for the rest of his life, he would never escape what Airi did to him.

hikaru begging ai to save him is soooooooo…… augugugugugh. this is all in line with what i'd predicted for their relationship but seeing it actually on page is such a gut punch. I just feel so fucking sorry for both these kids - both of them so desperately hurt and trying to heal and struggling in their own ways.

Because like… man! Not to be like "this rape victim's trauma is so hard for this other person to deal with" but… yeah, I'm really glad that even in just the framing, OnK makes it clear what a tremendous weight and pressure this is on Ai. I've talked before about the potential for her need to love and be loved to lead her into unhealthy and codependent dynamics and I think the HKAI relationship (as seen from Hikaru's POV) is exactly the sort of thing I was imagining.

With that in mind, even though we haven't seen her side of the story (YET……. IF WE GET AI POV NEXT WEEK AUUUUAUAU CAN YOU EVE N IMAGINE), it's not hard for me to imagine why Ai might have needed to withdraw. Because the sort of love Hikaru wants from her - something utterly all consuming, all encompassing, a world containing only two people and shutting out everything else - is not something she can or wants to provide. She's too full of compassionate curiosity for other people to give her love exclusively to one person alone… especially if a certain two troublemaking twins are already in the mix.

Admittedly this is as far as I can go in my analysis of this bit until we actually see how the breakup as a whole went down because I am admittedly still very confused as to the timeline here lol. The impression I'd always gotten was that Ai and Hikaru broke up before the twins were born, but the pacing of the flashback places it after Airi died, which we know wasn't super long before the Dome concert but I feel like Hikaru looks way too fucking young to be like a 17-19yo person here…. so who even knows. Hopefully we'll get some clarification next chapter. In ether case, I do think the twins threw a wrench into the HKAI relationship one way or another so I guess we'll see.

The fact that we're actually getting the real deal HKAI breakup happening on-panel also makes me feel a bit less insane about the Movie Arc skipping over that in recording (though I still ain't ever gonna forgive not focusing on how everyone felt about filming Ai's death even when we do see the final product). That said, I do still have issues with it that I talked about in an ask just the other day so I'll just repeat what I said: "Not only is [the HKAI breakup and the 'I can't love you'] line given a huge amount of weight, so is the fact that Aqua and Ruby had seemingly misinterpreted or even actively twisted it. If that’s the case then I’d say it’s even MORE important for us to have seen what 15YL’s version of events looked like so the contrast with the real thing can hit all the harder."

We already saw that with this chapter having a page very strongly echoing a similar one from the Movie Arc, a direct representation of the real version of events the movie fictionalized and it hits like a truck. I mentioned it up top but fuck, man. Hikaru and Airi's faces here are incredible. Hikaru's blank, innocent expression contrasted with that vile grin on Airi's face with her hair splayed everywhere… if Frill's portrayal of her was like a snake, the real thing made me think of some kind of spider.

That same page also seems to imply that Hikaru didn't only suffer abuse under Airi but may have suffered CSA prior to meeting her that caused him to become hypersexual. This is, unfortunately, in line with the way a lot of CSA victims will cope with their abuse and it really surprised me to see this aspect of it portrayed the way it was with Hikaru - already an exceptionally rare sympathetic and tasteful portrayal of a male CSA victim's experiences in manga. I've said over and over that I'm really impressed with how OnK is handling this aspect of the story but it really does continue to catch me by surprise.

Hikaru only ever to hear 'I love you' as a lie, while Ai can only ever say it as a lie… ouuughhh that's juicy.

Moving on a bit, the Ruby/Hikaru parallels are still going strong… Hikaru's insistence that so long as he has Ai he can endure anything very strongly echoes Ruby's speech in 143 about how if she has Gorou, her oshi, then that's all she needs. This means Aqua/Ai parallel stonks are on the rise which makes me very happy. I also hope this is a lead in to more directly addressing something that has been quiet subtext for a while - how destructive the pressure of being someone's singular saviour can be and how unhealthy this dynamic is, even for the person being saved. The idea that isolation and a lacking support system causes dysfunction is something we see sort of gestured at across the series so I'd love to see OnK explore codependency more explicitly through this angle, too.

No break next week…! Going by the editor's note in the JP version of the chapter, it looks like we'll be continuing this flashback and getting some of Ai's perspective so I'm really looking forward to it. After what a slog to keep up with the Movie Arc turned into, it feels sooooo fucking refreshing to be getting material I feel excited and energized to chew on. It sure did take until the last arc to explore some of this though, huh………..

hey ai. why did you break up with your boyfriend while you were brushingyour teeth. are you okay.

#oshi no ko #oshi no posting #onk spoilers #chapter reviews #hikaru kamiki #ai hoshino #csa mention

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 10 months ago

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The Dangers of Hope Ch. 6

Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC), Theresa (OFC), other survivors and soldiers.

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. 😁) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.

Chapter Warnings: Nothing major.

Word Count: 3,308

A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: Hope you enjoy this chapter! I'm getting excited to finish up the series. Four chapter left and so far it seems like the story is staying on track, and it shouldn't go over. (But you never know! 😁) Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading, liking, commenting and reblogging this series! It means SO much! ❤️

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

The dividers below were created by @saradika

Y/N felt her heart beat triple time as she watched Dean’s face return to the stony granite it had been when she’d first come to camp. Over the last couple of months she'd begun to see him soften slightly; there were even a few moments where he’d seemed on the verge of smiling. His eyes had eventually lost their frosty hardness, and their look of perpetual suspicion.

But both were back with a vengeance now.

She shook her head at him again and tried to understand what he was talking about. “What kind of psychic am I?” She asked, the question conjuring up an urge to laugh. The idea of her having psychic abilities was laughable to her. But she didn’t think Dean would appreciate the humor around it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dean. I haven’t done anything, and I certainly have no psychic powers.”

Dean said nothing, just shuffled sideways towards the door without taking his eyes off of her. Y/N took a few steps towards him, but froze when his hand dropped to the pistol on his thigh and he hissed at her. “Stay back.”

She felt Emma come up and hide behind her leg and her daughter's renewed fear made anger start to burn in Y/N’s chest. In the last few weeks that Dean had been coming to dinner, Emma had been gradually losing her fear of him, offering him shy smiles and even bringing him one of her books and asking him to read to her.

But now Y/N could feel her tremble slightly and frustration flared in her. What was Dean doing? And why? Because her mother had died in a fire when she was a baby? What kind of logic was that? Where was all this insanity coming from?

Dean walked to the entrance of the cabin and called to Patrick. When the soldier appeared in the doorway Dean spoke to him brusquely.

“Go get Castiel.”

Patrick looked back and forth between Dean and Y/N and frowned at the obvious tension. “Sir?” He questioned.

“Now.” Dean said with finality. As the man turned to leave Dean spoke again. “And send Risa in here.”

Dean continued to stare at Y/N, keeping his attention intensely fixated on her, the way he’d done during those first few days she’d been there. When Risa came into the cabin she frowned; like Patrick, she could clearly sense the hostility in the room.

When Dean saw her he nodded towards Emma. “Take the kid.”

Panic suffused Y/N and she began shaking her head. Emma clutched tightly to her leg and began crying and whimpering softly. She shook her head and buried her face in Y/N’s hip. “No, mommy.” She hiccuped softly.

“Take her.” Dean said quietly but firmly. There was a pause for a moment as Risa’s eyes lingered on Emma and Y/N before she shook her head.

“No.”

Dean turned his head slowly to look at his soldier, his expression incredulous and furious at the same time.

“Excuse me?” He said softly, and Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine.

Risa looked away for a moment, clearly intimidated by Dean's anger. But when she looked back at him, her brow was crinkled and she still questioned his demand.

“Why?” She asked.

“Because I gave you an order, soldier.” was Dean's softly spoken reply.

Risa stared at Dean a moment longer before she took a deep breath and then exhaled loudly and forcefully, turning and walking towards Y/N and Emma.

Emma started crying in earnest and Y/N knew that no matter what, she had to try and ease her daughter’s fear. She got down on her haunches and smoothed back Emma’s fly away hair. “Oh baby, it’s okay.” She smiled brightly at her, desperately trying to erase all her own fear and anxiety about what was happening.

“Dean and I are just gonna be here for a little while trying to figure out some boring grown up stuff.” Y/N’s happy smile seemed to be fooling Emma slightly because her tears were slowing and she sniffled.

Y/N kissed her cheek. “Why don’t you let Risa take you to see Keisha and Julianne. It will be so much more fun to play with them for a while, rather than staying here and listening to boring grownups talking. And I’ll come pick you up later, okay? I promise.”

She felt awful making a promise she wasn’t sure she could keep, but she wanted to believe she would be picking her up later, and she wanted Emma to lose the look of panic in her eyes.

She nodded towards Risa. “Go on now, and have fun playing. I’ll see you soon.” She kissed her forehead and gave her another bright smile.

Emma nodded, still obviously unsure, but willing to believe what Y/N was telling her.

Y/N kept her happy smile in place until Emma was out the door and then her mask dropped and she looked at Dean, her eyes accusing.

“Why are you doing this?” She asked quietly.

Before he could answer, Castiel walked through the door. Like the others, he seemed to notice the tension immediately and questioned it.

“Dean? What’s going on?”

Dean motioned for Y/N to move backwards. “Sit down.” He said, with a gesture towards the folding chair she’d been sitting on to read the story. When she did, Dean turned his head towards Castiel, but never took his eyes off of her.

“I know why she’s immune.”

Y/N felt her stomach lurch. “You do?” She asked, some of her anger burning away from pure shock. It was the last thing she’d expected him to say. Though she still had no idea what this had to do with her mother’s death.

But evidently it was connected, because the angel’s eyes widened in disbelief as Dean continued. “Her mother died in a fire when she was a baby.”

It was to her that Castiel looked for an answer. “Is that true, Y/N?” She nodded. “My God.”

“Will someone please explain what my mother dying has to do with anything?” Y/N asked with immense frustration.

But the men ignored her for the moment. Dean was finally looking at the angel properly and he nodded at the questions in his blue eyes.

“Yeah, she’s a psychic kid. She’s immune, just like Sam was.”

“Who is Sam?” Y/N asked, but was ignored again.

Castiel was shaking his head. “Maybe…” He looked back towards her briefly. “Maybe it’s just a coincidence.”

Dean scoffed. “Come on Cas! This is way too big a coincidence to be…coincidental.”

Cas nodded reluctantly and then frowned. “But, if she's psychic...then what’s her gift?”

Both men turned to stare at her, and Dean spoke softly. “That’s a real good question. Because she could be doing anything to us, mind controlling us, or manipulating us to only see what she wants us to.”

Y/N finally did let out a bark of laughter. “Are you insane? You think I’m mind controlling you? If I had the power of mind control, I’d definitely make you be nicer, or I’d make you let me go, because this whole thing is ridiculous! And you still haven’t explained why on earth you think I’m psychic and why my mother’s death is involved.”

Dean stared at her for a long time, and Cas just watched him. Finally Dean spoke and his voice was calm and even, as though he was just telling her a story while they sat around her table eating dinner.

“Ten years before you were born, your mother or father made a deal with a yellow-eyed demon. They got something they desperately wanted and he got permission to enter their house. When you were six months old he came into your room, slit himself open and bled into your mouth. Your mother likely interrupted him somehow, and he killed her and burnt the place down around her.”

Y/N felt her stomach turn at Dean’s words. He had to be insane, there was no way it could be true. Demon blood? A demon killed her mother? She shook her head.

“How on earth could you possibly know any of this?”

“Because it’s exactly what happened to my mom, and my brother. The demon fed him his blood, killed my mom, and when Sam turned 22 he started having psychic visions. And he wasn’t the only psychic kid. There were a bunch of them, and without fail every single one of them had powers and every single one of them went bad.”

His jaw clenched and he folded his arms over his chest. “So, if you’re gonna sit there and try and tell me that you’re the only one that never had the blood take hold, the only one who managed to avoid being triggered when you turned 22? Well, then I know you’re lying. So, I’ll ask you one more time.”

His eyes were chips of ice once again. “What can you do? And what have you done already?”

Y/N blew out a puff of exasperation. “I can’t do anything, do you hear me? I am not psychic! I have no powers!”

Cas stepped forward, putting himself between the two of them. “Okay, Y/N, have you ever felt something, something that made you different from other people? Like,” he snapped his fingers, “the ability to connect easily with people maybe? You seem to make friends quickly, people respond to you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “So being a nice person makes me a psychic now?”

Cas shook his head. “No, but maybe it’s more than you being nice, maybe people can’t help but like you. It could be involuntary on both their part and yours. Like some sort of psychic charisma”

Cas seemed to like his idea, his expression saying that he thought he’d figured it out.

But Y/N was again shaking her head. “No, look, that’s not true. I’ve had lots of people not like me, I’ve had people try to kill me in my sleep just to steal my blanket, I’ve had men attack me just for…well, for being a woman. And I can promise you I didn’t get away from those people by smiling at them and asking nicely.”

Y/N felt the old fears rise in her as she remembered the panic and terror of those moments and so many more like them. To think that she had some kind of mind control or psychic abilities and hadn’t used them then, was laughable.

Cas looked slightly defeated and Dean pushed him aside. “The fact is though, that you could be lying through your teeth, you could be saying anything to knock us off your scent.”

Y/N scowled at him and then stood up. Dean stepped back, and yanked Cas back by his shoulder. “Sit down.” He ordered her but she shook her head.

“This is ridiculous, Dean. You have to know it is.” She took a step towards him. “What about our…our friendship? What about what happened last night?”

Dean’s eyes just got colder and his voice was deep and demanding. “I said, sit down. Now!”

“Dean.” Y/N began and stepped closer again, reaching out to him. But she stopped dead and dropped her hands to her sides as Dean pulled his gun from its holster in the span of a breath.

“I said get back, and sit down.” He said, slow and deliberate.

Y/N looked at the gun pointed at her, looked at Dean holding it, his hand not wavering an inch, and she was suddenly, unbearably sad. She stared at him and knew her heartbreak was plastered on her face, she was bad at concealing emotions.

She nodded slowly and moved back to sit in the chair. She had lied to Emma; she wouldn’t be picking her up tonight.

***

The night passed just as her first night in camp had; with her sleeping lightly, troubled by disturbing dreams and waking to find Dean watching her almost unblinkingly. He took her to the outhouses on his own this time, and she wasn’t in chains so, that much had changed. But his hand hovering over his gun the whole way there and back definitely felt binding, and kept her locked in place just ahead of him.

When they got back to the cabin Dean walked over to the door and said something quietly to whoever was just outside. A few minutes later Theresa arrived with breakfast. She looked at Y/N back in her spot on the floor by the table leg and her young face creased in confusion.

“What’s wrong?” She asked Y/N with a look thrown at Dean.

Y/N tried to smile and put her student’s mind at ease. “Nothing, sweetie. Just trying to sort something out. Tell your mom thank you for the breakfast, but I’m not hungry. You should take that back to her so it doesn’t go to waste.”

“Eat it.” Dean’s voice rang out with authority and Theresa took a step closer to Y/N.

Y/N didn’t bother looking at him. Instead she gave Theresa a reassuring nod and the girl bent to set the tray on the ground. “It’s okay, thank you. I’ll probably be hungry later.”

But she wasn’t. She felt guilty enough about wasting food to try and swallow some down, but it just stuck in her throat and she gagged on it and spit it out. At lunch Brandy brought the food tray and she was slightly more vocal with her questions than her daughter was.

“What the hell is going on here?” She asked Dean. “All the parents are confused and worried. They said you ordered them out of here yesterday and no one has seen Y/N since; Emma’s back with Monique.”

She set the lunch tray on the table Y/N leaned against and bent to pick up the uneaten breakfast tray. She was looking at Y/N, but still addressing Dean when she spoke. “What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing that concerns you.” Dean answered brusquely.

Brandy stood to her full height and her large chest rose and fell with indignation. “Since when do you keep me out of the loop?”

Dean frowned at her and his voice was laced with annoyance and anger. “Since this isn’t something that requires your attention. And I’d like to know, exactly when did everyone start questioning my orders?”

Brandy shrugged, seemingly unfazed by his foreboding tone. “I guess when your orders started to seem stupid.”

Y/N’s eyes grew round, beyond impressed at the woman’s boldness and nerve. Dean seemed much less impressed by it though, staring the woman down with a furious expression. But Brandy kept his gaze and never wavered. Finally Dean spoke through gritted teeth.

“Take away the tray, and send someone else with the supper tray.”

Brandy stayed still until Dean took a step towards her and yelled, “That is an order!”

Brandy shook her head, but turned towards the door as she answered. “Don’t forget, boss, not all of us are your soldiers. Some of us follow you because you’ve been a good leader.” She paused at the door and looked back at him. “Don’t fuck that up.”

She walked out, leaving behind an electric buzz of tension in the air. Dean turned back to her and the muscle in his jaw was still jumping.

“Eat.”

But Y/N shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”

“Bullshit!” Dean said bitingly. “You haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday. You have to be hungry. I don’t know what kind of hunger strike, sympathy ploy you’re going for here, but it’s not gonna work. Now, eat!” He ended on a shout and something snapped inside Y/N.

She jumped to her feet and yelled back. “This isn’t a sympathy ploy, you bloody dumbass! I can’t eat the food because it tastes disgusting to me and it chokes me. My stomach is in knots and I feel sick! And do you know why that is? Because you keep threatening to kill me!”

Dean thundered towards her, stopping barely two feet from her. “Yeah, and I’m not gonna have you starve to death before I get the chance! Now eat!”

Y/N threw her arms wide. “What the hell do you care if I starve! It’ll just save you a bullet!”

She took a deep breath, feeling herself unraveling but unable to stop. “You have me locked up in this place, again! You think I’m some kind of horrible monster. Again!” Her voice broke. “You have taken my child away from me! Again! So don’t pretend to give a shit about my fucking health and wellbeing!” She reached out to furiously smash the food tray to the ground.

Silence descended and Y/N breathed hard and heavy through her nose, her anger carrying her through a little longer before she turned away from him and buried her face in her hands, quiet, uncontrollable sobs shaking her.

By the time she managed to get herself under some kind of control, she turned around to see that Dean was gone. She looked around the room as though he might be hiding in plain sight, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Y/N walked over and fell down onto the chair he'd sat in all night. She felt exhausted and deflated. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, but it felt like ages before Cas walked through the door. He looked solemn and he nodded at her.

“Dean says that you should go.”

Y/N felt her stomach drop. “He’s kicking us out?”

Cas held up a hand. “Oh, no! Not…he didn’t say for you to go from camp. I mean that he said for you to go from here. Go get your daughter, go back to your tent. That kind of go.”

Y/N shook her head, more confused than ever. “I don’t understand. Now, suddenly he doesn’t think I’m some kind of psychic menace?”

Cas shrugged. “Psychic yes, but menace no. He said, and I quote, ‘She was pissed enough to take off my head if she could have, and she didn’t, so she can’t.’” He shook his head. “Occasionally his thought process is hard to follow.”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, you’re telling me.”

She didn’t waste anymore time right then, though, contemplating Dean’s bizarre behavior; she was free to go and she ran to get Emma, apologizing for taking longer than she said she would to come get her.

Emma forgave her easily for not keeping her promise, relief clear in her big, deep cerulean eyes. They spent the evening cuddling in the tent; Y/N read her a dozen books and played clapping games with her until Emma’s eyes were shining again, and no more fear or worry clouded them.

At bedtime she sang her a song and Emma drifted off to sleep happily; Y/N found no such easy reprieve. She laid awake for hours trying to understand Dean and the way he thought. He’d been so angry, so sure of her wickedness and evil. And then, just like that, because she’d exploded in anger, he let her go?

How did that man’s mind work? And how did he see her now? Harmless psychic freak? Or someone he’d still have to keep a close eye on?

She shook her head. It didn’t matter, he’d made himself perfectly clear on one thing, the relationship she’d thought they had, the friendship that she’d hoped would grow into more had meant nothing to him. The kiss they’d shared had meant nothing.

She meant nothing. He couldn't have acted the way he did if he cared about her at all.

She needed to remember that going forward and not let her heart get entangled so easily.

From now on, she needed to keep her distance.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @akshi8278 @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Dean Fics Only @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96 @hobby27

#dean winchester #endverse!dean #endverse!dean x reader #dean x reader #dean x y/n #endverse!dean x y/n #endverse #endverse!dean series #dean winchester fan fic #the dangers of hope

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no-psi-nan · 2 years ago

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Haha no worries! It's downplayed a lot in the series because it's supposed to be a comedy, but when you start looking more closely at the stuff Kuniharu does, it paints a picture of a terrible father and a bad husband too.

It's been a topic on the blog several times, so I'm sure people can chime in with more evidence, but here's what's off the top of my head...

Raised Kusuke. Nuff said tbh lol.

Kuniharu calls Kusuo a monster multiple times and is almost certainly the reason why Kusuke and Kusuo himself believe that Kusuo is an inhuman freak. This attitude is certainly not coming from Kurumi, and nobody else knew about Kusuo's power. From the beginning of the series, Kusuo genuinely believes he's unable to connect with other human beings, and it's mostly because of this attitude inherited from his father.

Kuniharu is never seen attempting to prevent Kusuke from constantly picking fights with his brother, and only attempting to discipline Kusuo for behavior that Kuniharu considers disrespectful to him. This is mostly a fact by omission, but we do see him belittling Kusuke when the kid obviously already has an inferiority problem.

Kuniharu is one of the worst performers at his job and the first to be let go in the case of a crisis. When he loses his job, he's unable to find any others because his only real skill is shoe-licking. This was a parody chapter though so questionably canon. He's always running late for his job though and we see him trying to make a manga artist rip off Naruto, so honestly it makes sense that he's that bad at his job. The only time he's shown as slightly competent at his job was during a parody chapter too hsfjdlshfks.

However what's definitely canon is that he either doesn't make much money or mis-spends most of it. In an area where Nendo's mom, a single woman, and Satou's family, the exact average family, can afford to live, Kuniharu had to take out an 80 year mortgage to pay for a similarly sized home. For context, most mortgages are for 30 years, 15 if you git gud. Btw, the house was literally a gift from Kusuke, Kuniharu insisted on paying out of manly pride or something. Sir, Kusuke is a freaking billionaire and this is like the only single no-strings-attached genuinely kind thing he's ever done hsfjdlshfks

Completely irresponsible with money: has a huge Valentine's day budget for his wife's gift ($3,000 iirc?) and then spends it all at the bar paying for his coworkers' drinks (the same guys who abuse him at his job and think he's garbage). He also spends huge amounts of money on his model figure collection, and has a whole room of gym equipment he never uses. As a result, Kusuo has a very small allowance and for some reason, his one favorite food (coffee jelly) is not included in the grocery list. Even though Kusuo canonically gets insane rock bottom prices for literally everything that gets bought in the household. How do you fuck up so badly financially that you can't buy your clinically depressed son the one (inexpensive!) thing that brings him joy??

By the way, Kuniharu started dating Kurumi when he was a college student and she was in high school. Kusuke was born like a year after they met, so you can do the math about how little time he spent before knocking her up 😬 They basically had a shotgun wedding. No wonder Kurumi's dad is NOT a fan of Kuniharu...

Literally one of the first chapters is Kuniharu and Kurumi domestic violence but make it funny. They're throwing furniture, Kuniharu is breaking the windows, Kurumi is yeeting her husband, and all this shit is over a single coffee jelly, which again, should be a normal part of the groceries for their household. They constantly bring their son into this drama too, which I'm sure is fantastic for his mental and emotional development btw.

There's a manga exclusive chapter that's a parody, so questionably canon, but in it Kuniharu physically attacks Kusuo multiple times over differences in opinion.

However, it IS canon that Kuniharu takes any opportunity to try to physically harm Kusuo. Ex. Hitting him in the massage episode and trying to step on him when he turns tiny.

Canon tries to redeem him a bit by showing moments where Kusuo is a baby and Kuniharu is trying really hard to make him smile because he wants his baby boy to be happy. Unfortunately that just makes it seem like he tried to be a good father for a bit when Kusuo was a baby, and then as soon as Kusuo's powers developed enough to make him miserable (the time when he needs the MOST familial support!), Kuniharu just gives up, and starts using Kusuo as his personal genie in a bottle. While also trying to fix his own fragile ego by attempting to establish dominance over his son. ????? Get therapy bro.

Canon also shows that Kuniharu's love points for Kusuo are the same as for his wife, however, not even Kuniharu believes that, as he tries to run away to evade it hsfjdlshfks. And even if he does love his son that much, he certainly doesn't show it in any meaningful way, because his literal MIND-READING SON doesn't know that. There are plenty of parents who truly love their kids and still abuse them like hell because they think that's the right thing to do (see Kaido's mom being overly strict because she wants to see him succeed in life), so the love points don't mean much imo.

Kuniharu does dole out a couple of pieces of wisdom (at Kusuo's wrong date birthday party and in the volcano arc) but that really doesn't make up for anything and even his wife thinks he's childish so... 🇫

Kuniharu is definitely funny as a character, and like I said, most of this requires digging into canon a little more, but once you start looking, it becomes clear that Kuniharu is just not a good person, father, or husband.

Like, I totally get that having a genius and a god as your kids would not be easy for any parent, but Kuniharu really doesn't try to make life better for either of his sons, preferring to get into petty squabbles with his wife and play video games/build models the rest of the time. I'm not saying dads can't have hobbies, but the only times we see him spending time with Kusuo is usually when he's begging for a favor, and he also clearly does zero housework whatsoever, so...

Anyways, I think Kurumi deserves a better husband and Kusuo deserves a better parent (or at least a break from being used as a magical favor vending machine lol) so I often joke on here that Kurumi should get a divorce and run polls about who she should marry instead and such!

Hope this helps! 👍🏾 Thanks for the question!

#notes to nopsi #kuniharu saiki #saiki k #saiki no psi nan #sknpn #the disastrous life of saiki k.#nopsi meta #tdlosk

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fangirlwriting-stories · 4 months ago

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Afterlife Lessons

Summary: Sam’s awareness of ghosts extended to exactly two pieces of knowledge: Danny’s parents are ghost hunters, and ghosts are dangerous and she should stay away from them.

Unfortunately, neither of these things becomes something in her favor when she and Tucker are kidnapped by a ghost and turned into ghosts themselves— or half ghosts, apparently, something clarified to them by Amity Park’s resident hero Phantom, who also promises to stick around and help them figure out their new forms and powers.

But while Sam is certainly grateful for the help, now that she’s regularly spending time with their local ghost protector, she’s noticing things about him that seem a little more familiar than they should. And also that Phantom’s strong confident hero persona might be a bit more of a facade than anyone‘s realized.

Author's Note: I did an invisobang this year! It was a ton of fun to write, and (once the art is posted), I'll post the art in each chapter it matches with! I'm gonna be posting all fifteen chapters in rapid succession, so get ready for a lot of posts from this blog! I'm going to make a masterlist in just a minute, and I'll also tag every post with the title.

Art For This Chapter: @torchturtle link

...

Sam’s awareness of ghosts extended to exactly two pieces of knowledge, and both of those things came from Danny. The first, that Danny’s parents hunted them, which he’d told them in embarrassment shortly after they met. The second she’d learned shortly before it had been revealed to everyone that ghosts did, in fact, exist— when Danny had told her ghosts are dangerous, stay away from them.

Sam had admittedly been more than a little surprised when Danny told her this. Like she’d said, he tended to be more embarrassed by his parents’ work than anything else. Granted, he’d never said outright that he didn’t believe in them, and there were a couple of times Sam had seen him taking precautions that she knew his parents had recommended. But she knew he’d just be uncomfortable if she brought it up, so she didn’t.

And then, suddenly, he was very serious in his telling of her that ghosts were dangerous, and she should avoid them at all costs. Sam hadn’t had the first clue where the shift had come from, but he’d timed it pretty well, because it was around that time that Amity Park started getting regular visits from ghosts. Luckily for them, one of those ghosts included Phantom. And while the town in general was split on him and Danny was still just as insistent in telling her and Tucker to stay away from him, Sam saw the things he did. The ghosts he fought. The people he saved. There had never been a doubt in her mind that Phantom was an ally.

She hadn’t ever really expected to count on that fact directly.

But then, she’d also never been directly targeted by a ghost before. She couldn’t think of much else this one in particular could be doing, though. The vampire-looking ghost knew her and Tucker’s names, it singled them out specifically on the way to school, and it had grabbed them and tied them up on seats in the back of a plane, of all things. That was a little difficult to misinterpret.

Tucker was still breathing very quickly across from her in his window seat, and Sam was trying to make sure that he didn’t have a panic attack, while also looking around the plane for anything they could possibly use to help themselves. She didn’t even know ghosts had planes, much less ones this… fancy. This thing looked fancier than her parents’ private jet, which made her hate it for two reasons.

“Tucker,” Sam said quietly, drawing his gaze. “You see that compartment up there labeled with a parachute?”

“No,” Tucker said immediately, looking very intently down at the floor. “No, I absolutely do not see it.”

“Tucker.”

“Sam, you are insane if you think I’m risking jumping out of a plane!”

“You’d rather get to whatever secondary location this guy is dragging us to?” Sam snapped, still keeping her voice down.

“Right, because obviously the guy who kidnapped us and is dragging us somewhere is going to leave us with perfectly made parachutes that won’t break halfway down to the ground,” Tucker snapped back, which… was actually a decent point, though Sam loathed to admit it.

“Look, do you have a better idea?” she asked instead.

“Try to escape while we’re not several miles in the air?”

“When we’ve made it wherever we’re going so this guy has a home field advantage?”

“I don’t know Sam! We don’t have a ton of options!” Tucker snapped. “I still think I’d rather be kidnapped than dead!”

“Are you sure?” Sam asked seriously, giving Tucker a look, and then jerking her head backwards toward the cockpit. “We don’t know what he wants.”

“I don’t want to die, Sam,” Tucker said desperately. “I think we have a better chance of not dying if we stay on the plane until we get wherever we’re going. Plus, you can’t even stand up to reach that compartment anyway. Let’s just… stay put.”

Sam gave a huff of irritation and a little bit of fear, but gave in to Tucker’s fairly decent points and leaned back in the plush chair.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s try and work this out, then. We’ve been flying for what, an hour now? Where do you think we’re going?”

“We’re heading north,” Tucker said, with a nod towards the window. “Based on the way the sun was rising earlier.”

“Great, so that narrows it down to a little less than half the continent,” Sam groaned. “Do you think he’s staying in the U.S.?”

“Do I think a ghost cares about a country’s borders? I have no clue if we’re going to Canada. Maybe he’ll just keep flying north and drop us in the middle of the ocean.” The second after Tucker said it, he seemed to realize what he’d said, and his face turned a little queasy. “I hope not.”

“Me too,” Sam muttered, looking out what little of the window she could see from her position, given that she couldn’t shift in the chair at all. She couldn’t see the sun anymore. She was glad Tucker had spotted it earlier, even if it didn’t give them a ton of clues as to where they were going.

They didn’t have to wonder for that much longer, however, because it wasn’t more than five minutes later before a disgustingly pleasant voice announced that they’d be beginning their descent, and that they hoped the landing was just as horrible as the takeoff had been.

Sam glared up at the ceiling as if that was where the voice was and tried to come up with a map in her head. They really hadn’t been flying for more than an hour. That wasn’t enough time to get them to Canada, was it? They couldn’t be much further than Wisconsin.

Once they got off the plane itself, they were taken towards some sort of castle that looked like something her parents could afford to build. Which might not be that far off in terms of expenses, given there was an actual runway in the back. Maybe this ghost happened to be a friend of theirs, and this was Sam’s parents’ newest way of threatening her into wearing floral print.

The ghost that had kidnapped and brought them here, however, didn’t seem super keen on answering any questions. Its only comment before it grabbed them both by the arms and dragged them towards a back door was “I hope you two had a terrible experience,” paired with a supervillain smirk so dramatic it was almost ridiculous.

He clearly was not super worried about being gentle about dragging them, if the ache forming in Sam’s wrist was any indication. But she didn’t have much time to focus on that. Instead, as soon as her feet were on the ground, she started looking around for escape strategies, but the ghost was holding their arms way too tightly for running to be an option, and she didn’t feel confident in her ability to get both her and Tucker into the forest surrounding the castle. Especially considering how far away it was. The grounds for this place weren’t small.

The castle itself was white brick, with gold roofs and absolutely covered in green flags. The door they were being dragged to looked like an entrance to a basement of some kind. Sam glanced over at Tucker to find him looking around too, but after a second he glanced at her with a helpless look on his face, meaning he hadn’t noticed anything she hadn’t.

Sam took a deep breath, and mouthed to Tucker, “On three.”

Tucker bit his lip, clearly scared, but nodded.

Sam brushed past her own fear and looked back on the door. Their smartest option would probably be to try and break for it when he had to shift his grip in order to hold on to them and go for the handle at the same time. He’d be doing that any second now, she just had to wait for—

A cold feeling swept over Sam just before she reached the door, and before she could question what that meant the ghost dragged her and Tucker right through the solid door and into the castle.

Sam blinked. Well. So much for the shifting his grip plan.

“Uh,” Sam said, looking at Tucker. “Three!”

Tucker started pulling backwards on the ghost’s arm as Sam did the same, but it didn’t even seem to phase the ghost. In fact, he looked down at them and laughed in obvious amusement.

“Oh yes, that’s sure to work. He really hasn’t ever let you near ghosts before, has he?”

Before Sam could figure out what the hell that meant, the ghost floated upwards just far enough to lift Sam and Tucker off the ground, robbing them of any force they could have attempted to use to get away.

Sam, in a last desperate attempt, leaned up to try and bite the ghost’s hand, but the ghost did the same thing to just their hands that he’d done to get them all through the door, and Sam’s teeth went right through it.

She turned to Tucker. “Okay, you have any other ideas?”

Tucker’s only response was a scared look.

They went through a couple more doors the same way as before, and then the ghost pulled them down through the floor, into some kind of lab. It looked eerily similar to the one in Danny’s basement, right down to the portal over on the wall.

“Well, I think we’ve made excellent time,” the ghost said, flying them straight over to that very portal. “Let’s set you both up.”

“Or, we could not do that?” Tucker said nervously.

“Who are you?” Sam snapped, glaring at the weird vampire ghost. If they weren’t going to escape, she might as well get as much information as possible from him.

“Oh, don’t worry about it child, I’m sure you’ll get a much better explanation from Daniel.”

Sam blinked. “Danny knows you?”

The vampire ghost didn’t reply, and instead flew over closer to the portal. Sam leaned back away from the swirling green she had no desire to go through, but before he could toss them inside, she heard a whirring sound, and the portal powered down to leave an empty mechanical tunnel. Sam glanced over to see… the same vampire ghost? There were two of them? The second one, however he was there, was pressing buttons on a box next to the portal.

A box that probably wasn’t supposed to be blinking like that.

“Uh,” Sam said, as the vampire ghost holding on to them carried them into the tunnel. “You wanna fix your box thingy?”

“No thank you, it’ll be more useful like this for now,” the second vampire ghost said, though Sam couldn’t see him anymore. “Though it’ll be quite a bit of work to fix the portal after using it for something like this.” He sighed, like their kidnapping was an inconvenience for him. “Oh well, can’t be helped.”

The second vampire ghost flew in and took Sam from the first, then carried her over to the side of the tunnel, seeming barely even to notice Sam’s struggles.

He and the other one then strapped her and Tucker to the sides of the portal, and flew off unconcerned. Sam saw the reason why a moment later, the restraints didn’t budge no matter how much she tugged on them, and she could see Tucker doing the same thing across from her.

“Regret not trying for the parachutes yet?” Sam snapped.

Tucker opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, there was a yell of “VLAD!” and a loud crash from the room outside of the portal.

Both of them turned, and in the part of the room that the portal wasn’t blocking, Sam saw Phantom shooting blasts across the room, presumably towards one of the vampire ghosts.

Tucker let out a relieved sigh. “Nope, I think we have a better shot now,” he said.

Sam couldn’t blame him. They may not have ever interacted with Phantom personally, but that didn’t mean they didn’t know what he was capable of. If Phantom was here to rescue them, they were safe.

Phantom, however, didn’t seem to realize that, because the second he turned and spotted them inside the portal, his eyes widened in surprise and what looked like fear.

…Okay, maybe they should be a little nervous?

Tucker seemed to realize the same thing, as a second later they both went back to struggling.

Phantom started right for them, but one of the vampire ghosts— Vlad, he’d said?— instead slammed into him from the side and out of their view.

Sam couldn’t see what was happening anymore, but she could easily hear them.

“Let them go, Plasmius,” Phantom snapped.

“Or you’ll what? I’m looking for specifics here, my boy.”

“Specifics? I’ll smash your teeth in, now let them go!”

There’s a loud sigh. “No, you see, that’s the kind of thing that makes me think this is necessary in the first place.”

Sam glanced across the portal at Tucker, who shrugged, looking just as lost as her.

There was the sound of an ecto blast, and then Plasmius flew across the room. Phantom started immediately for the portal again, but before he could reach it, the other vampire ghost shot a blast at him that sent him back out of view again. The second one then flew after him and reappeared a second later, holding Phantom in a tight restraint that seemed much more difficult to hold than Sam and Tucker’s had been.

Sam tugged hard on the restraints, then stopped when she felt her wrist start to strain in a way that couldn’t be good.

“For the record,” she said to Tucker. “We totally should have tried for the parachutes.”

Tucker gave her a desperate look.

“Sorry it had to be this way, child,” came Vlad’s voice from out of view, “but you really should get better at solving your problems yourself.”

Phantom looked towards Vlad, apparently long enough to not like what he saw, because then he looked wide-eyed back towards Sam and Tucker— and that was the moment Sam knew they were fucked.

Something behind them in the portal lit up, and Sam turned her head towards it in time to see a bright green light.

Phantom screamed “NO!” loud and desperate, and then Sam’s world erupted.

#danny phantom #sam manson #tucker foley #danny fenton #vlad plasmius #halfa trio au #no one knows au #invisobang #afterlife lessons #my fic

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soft4gguk · 5 months ago

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please give us recommendations of your favorite books and your comfort fics! xoxoxo

omg fun!!! yessss, I would love to!!! recs under the cut :)

okay so let's start with books. please, don't let the summer end without reading Bonjour Tristesse by François Sagan. I read this book when I was like... sixteen or something. I was probably too young to be reading it lol. but it's SO GOOD, I'd almost forgotten how good it is!! I recently picked it back up at the beginning of the summer and it like, reseted my entire way of interpreting literature. that's how much I love this book lol. also Just Kids by Patti Smith is such an amazing book, I cannot stress it enough. it's genuinely my comfort read whenever I'm feeling a little lost, specially in my artistic journey (what a pretentious way of putting it lol!). Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto is also such a comfort read for me. albeit a bit sad at times, it somehow feels like a hug as you read!! Normal People by Sally Rooney was a summer re-read for me and I loved it, although at times I was like... wtf. lol. but yeah, it's a good book. anything, and I mean, ANYTHING! by Toni Morisson (I've read her whole repertoire this summer) will have you LEVITATING. her way of threading words is actually insane. she's definitely one of my favourite authors, if not my favourite author lol. she's so amazing. it literally feels like she's in front of you and telling you the whole story in one sitting (hence why I devoured it). also, anything by Annie Ernaux will have you highly entertained. it's not light, but it's entertaining. she's an amazing writer, too. so easy to want to keep reading. and as for the oldies and classics I've been back in my Fitzgerald kick (I will forever love The Great Gatsby) and anything James Baldwin!!! (Giovanni's Room has been my most recent read by him).

as for fics!!! okay so anything by stella @venusiangguk but specifically realizations concerning real life relations. ooooh. I still don't know how she did it. it's genuinely the best thing I've ever read on this app lol. and it's my comfort fic even though it's devastating 😩. a still day or a hurricane by mimi @ahundredtimesover definitely reseted my entire being. aligned my chakras. nothing has ever hit the way that fic did lol. if you're an OG, you probably remember my elaborate reviews of each chapter hehe. I LOVE THIS FIC OK!! it's so good ugh. also, bad influence by @noteguk never ever fails to HIT. like it HIIIIIIIIITS. whenever I need to feel something, that's where I end up at lol. and last but certainly not least, my favourite jk EVER is at the hands of @bratkook in concrete king!!! go check all of these out, trust me I have put my non-army friends into some of these stories just to prove my point and point proven INDEED.

#if you want more recs on more specific books ask away #I literally have a list of books for every season and every mood imagined.#I love girl blogging!!#sweets #recs

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tired-teacher-blog · 10 months ago

Text

Characters : Tattoo artist Aizawa/ Florist fem reader

Featuring : Eri/ Hizashi Yamada/ Nemuri Kayama/ Oboro Shirakumo/ Emi Fukukado

Warnings and Genre : Fluff/ Romance/ Smut and Angst in future chapters/ Multi Chaptered Story

Summary : In a desperate attempt to get closer to the tattoo artist dominating every speck of your brain, you decide to pay him a visit one evening as a client seeking his service. This encounter will prove to be the beginning of something much bigger between you two, but will this new found passion be enough to stand against the difficulties your future holds?

Notes : Loosely inspired by this/ Art below is by the wonderful @/ael-draw who gifted me this gorgeous piece.

Masterlist|Second Masterlist|Third Masterlist

Chapter Count : Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11

Mature content ahead so please be warned : 18+

_ "You seem.. distracted," he breathlessly utters while peering up at you from between your thighs, "aren't you enjoying this?" and the smirk following suit is an indication of his teasing, and confidence in his skilled tongue.

_ "Wha.. no, no that's not it!" truth be told, his wondrous mouth has always been enough to fog up your brain and renders you a moaning mess, and this time is no different as he has you sitting comfortably in the same chair you sat on months ago when you came for your tattoo, only this time, your skirt is hiked up around your waist and your legs are resting on his shoulders while your panties are discarded somewhere.

How scandalous.

Here you thought you'd have dinner together between his scheduled appointments, but he had something else entirely in mind.

You aren't worried about someone walking in though, since everyone else is diligently working at the moment, you are however still not over what happened a few weeks ago when he came to visit you at night, all troubled and distraught.

_ "Look at you, swallowing my fingers eagerly." his teasing words are flustering, and his long thick digits are pushing you closer to insanity. He's aware of what he's doing to you, moving them slowly in and out of your fluttering heat, and curling them right at that sweet spot he knows all too well.

His lips are peppering your shaky thighs with soft kisses as his fingers keep spreading you deliciously, and you know that you will certainly not hold out for much longer.

_ "Shouta.. yes, keep going, please." you squeeze your eyes shut and arch off the leather chair while threading your own fingers through his beautiful hair, further messing his already messy bun.

You are grateful for the blasting music outside of the booth, because everyone would hear your sinful moans otherwise.

His fingers quicken and his mouth envelops your reddened clit, sucking it hungrily and coaxing your release.

Your legs tighten around his neck and your eyes shoot open while shockwaves of pleasure rock you to the core and leave you pulsing in the aftermath of your orgasmic release.

Your throat is dry and your whole body is tingling as you strive to regain your composure, it was wonderful as usual, and for a moment there, you were actually able to forget about what's been bothering you for weeks.

_ "That was.. so good." a dumb smile is splayed across your face as your body is finally relaxed.

_ "I'm glad gorgeous," he replies with a chuckle while lowering your legs carefully, "so, did this help you relax?"

_ "What do you mean?" you're still on cloud nine and your mind is too fuzy to comprehend the meaning behind his words.

_ "No, never mind," he runs a hand through the loose strands framing his handsome face, "I just worry sometimes when you overwhelm yourself with work or other things." and for some reason, it feels as if he regrets his original statement and is trying to make light of the situation, perhaps because he's the one who's been troubled lately, and deep down he knows that it's affecting you in the worst of ways.

He means well though, obviously he does, and you know he's truly worried about you, but somehow you find his words irritating.

How can he act oblivious when he's the reason why you've been a mess lately? If anything, he actually owes you some answers.

Your smile is suddenly replaced with a frown, and you sigh out frustratedly as you carefully stand up on shaky legs and push your way past him in order to fetch your panties, "I should be the one telling you this."

He doesn't reply, and instead keeps his attention on you as he awaits an explanation.

_ "Shouta, isn't there anything you want to tell me?" you ask him calmly, eyes full of longing and a tinge of pain.

You didn't have to say anything more for him to understand your request, and you just stand there patiently waiting to hear his answer.

He walks up to you, hands shoved in his pockets and eyes looking everywhere but you, and it reminds you of the day he visited your shop for the first time, because that day too, he was shy and a bit awkward, just like he is right now.

_ "It's not a big deal I promise." he feigns a smile as he answers, but you can see right through him, whatever happened that day -a couple of weeks ago- must have been a huge deal and it is clearly still affecting him.

He can deny it all he wants, but he's been distressed lately and it tortures you to witness, and what hurts you even more is that despite it all, he is still the same loving and caring man you've always known, and that night he visited you -a few weeks ago- was the first and only time he allowed himself to be vulnerable around you.

He heaves in defeat and you watch with frightened eyes as his head hangs low and his voice comes out, but nothing could ever have prepared you for what he has to say.

_ "Eri, she's.."

Your heart sinks as you're expecting the worst, this is about Eri, but what can it be? Is she ill? Did something bad happen at school? It can't be, you see her all the time and talk to her on the phone almost daily, and she is as bright and cheerful as she's always been, so what is it then?

_ "What about Eri? Shouta tell me quick, please." you grip onto his arms tightly and shake him as your patience was wearing thin already.

_ "Her mom is back, and she wants her."

No really, nothing could ever have prepared you for what he had to say..

_ "How could she.. after all these years." you know all too well that it isn't your place to comment on the subject, this thing in particular does not concern you at all, it is a family matter that has existed way before you even came along, but for God's sake you're unable to contain your anguish.

You know what these two mean to each other, to him, Eri isn't just his daughter, she's his whole life and everything in his existence revolves around her, and to her, he's the only family she has ever known and loved. Nothing's fair about this.

_ "It will be okay, I'm sure it will be fine, yeah." and it's a weird smile he's showing, one you're not used to seeing from him.

who is he even trying to convince?

_ "But Shouta what about this is fine?"

_ "I have to believe that it is! Or else I'll go insane!" his hands are shaking and his voice is cracking now, as he's barely standing on his own two feet.

He has never been this way in front of you before and it kills you to witness.

You feel useless and hate yourself for triggering him this way, this isn't what he needs..

Oh right.. this isn't what he needs right now, not a reminder of this catastrophe but rather a reassurance, a sliver of hope, a moment to forget. It's precisely why he hasn't told you about it until you've brought it up a bit earlier.

_ "The man who took care of her all by himself for years, who raised her well and gave her all his love, who was both parents, is the same man standing right in front of me," it's all clear now and you know precisely what needs be done as you gently grasp on to his trembling hands, "you know what? It will be fine, Eri belongs with you and no power can change it, and I truly believe that."

He's speechless listening to you speak, lips parted and expression finally relaxing, this is indeed what he's been looking for, just a little peace of mind.

He pulls you to his chest and engulfs you tightly, so tightly in fact that you're left breathless in his strong arms.

His shoulders shake and a stream of hot liquid falls from his face to wet your own as he finally bares his all, and you stand there like a pillar for him to lean on, listening as he breaks down in your embrace.

To be continued..

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yuujiheart · 3 months ago

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hello there 👋 i really like the way you view things i feel like there's way too much negativity surrounding this ending and not to invalidate anyone i don't think it's perfect but i personally was very satisfied and happy with it, especially with sukuna and yuji which Almost scared me we weren't going to get a conclusion on. isn't it so beautiful that yuji literally changed sukuna to his core? the he literally decided to try a different path in the next life because yuji showed him there's value in life and others outside just passing the time until death? it's such a powerful message for someone who didn't think there was anything more to life than just surviving and satisfying his basic needs. some people take the fact that sukuna didn't accept Yujis offer as a rejection and I wanted to hear your thoughts on this because I don't think that's the case I think sukuna is a very very veryyy stubborn individual that would not back down from his beliefs until he literally died/lost. as mahito said this was a battle of truths. i see so many people saying that's it and they'll part forever but their souls are canonly connected so much so that even other people could sense it like uraume, so much so that in one chapter i think mei mei was fearing that yuji could be unconsciously channeling his thoughts to sukuna via telepathy and give away their plan, while sukuna was possesing megumi! as you pointed out in a prior post and i also noticed yuji literally felt that sukuna was embracing his mindset in the afterlife how insane is that??? he was smiling up at the sky as if he could see him. these two will 10000% find each other in the "next life" and every other after it (and I'm definitely not writing a fic about that exact thing happening or anything) I'm sorry this ask isn't very much an ask tbh i just wanted to bother you because we have similar views jfkdkvj hope your day goes well you don't have to answer 🙏

Hi ... Yeah i agree that it is not the best but it certainly is not bad... But i can understand those who didn't like it as the majority of questions remain unanswered. I myself wanted some answers especially yuji related....what I really like was we were all ready to be disappointed but sukuna yuji again saved us😭😭...... I genuinely felt so relieved when I saw sukuna... I knew gege would give him the conclusion he deserved....

Post chp 237 my only wish for him was that he learns about love (through yuuji) dies satisfied... Like it was bare minimum and gege delivered it which made me so happy...

Although I still feel weird that he did not mention yuuji but at the same time I also can't deny that his calm and gentle expression, him accepting his faults, his wish to try a different path, him comforting and guiding uraume to North , every action of him screams yuuji .. And then him accepting that he has become boring coz he lost is chef's kiss.. You know why???? It's because that is what he used to call yuji 😭😭😭😭.... Even writing this made me feel so warm....Mind you he never called anyone else boring... . This is the level of effect yuji has on him.....

To think that he rejected all opportunities life gave him since he couldn't let go of the resentment he felt all his life... His wounds were so deep that couldn't help but inflict them back..And I understand that because in yorozu's flashback we saw how those heian nobles called him monster even though he was invited there as a "deity" by the emperor himself so we can imagine what he must have gone through when he was a child, weak...You know he went from this to this..

How tired he looks here, so done with life but here he looks so peaceful, composed . Like I can feel it that yuuji freed him from the shackles, from his curse... Him looking forward to trying a new path where he wants to live with someone rather than cursing them is just heartwarming...

Now about the rejection point.... I know many people use it to downplay yuuji's effort but I knew all that would become useless once we get sukuna's conclusion... ... You know this moment is very special because this is the only time we see sukuna being emotionally vulnerable.. Like you will only see his true emotions when he's with yuuji... Any other time his emotions are in control but with yuji his emotions are all over the place.. But I digress...

Well I feel he both accepted and rejected yuuji's offer...He calls yuji's kindness a farce but in the same breath he also acknowledges him.. Now if he believes yuji is acting which that grandpa knows yuji isn't as he has lived with him and said himself in 248 that he knows yuji. than what he's acknowledging him for?? That means either he's lying or it's yuji .which definitely isn't yuji...

And then he said to not underestimate him as he's a curse..notice how he pauses before calling himself a curse.. This is the first time he chose to address himself ..and this is enough to tell us how he views himself.. He enjoys fighting but never once did he call himself the strongest like gojo but a curse coz that's what he thinks of himself subconsciously....

What I felt at this moment was that he was trying to reject yuji by saying it's him who isn't capable of living with others... And yuji shouldn't forget that... later in 271 we did get to know that it's exactly what stopped him from getting help.. He rejected any opportunity to live with others because he wanted to curse others just like how others cursed him..

How I see this is as sukuna didn't want to live with yuji because he doesn't want to become a burden on yuuji especially after what he put yuji through, yuuji wanting to save him doesn't mean yuji should be responsible for him. Yuji finally got free from the burden of being his vessel so he deserves a carefree life..

And sukuna is too mature and proud enough to let yuji a kid bear the burden of his curse and so he chooses to die like a curse (south) so he can start anew as a human (north) .

But he didn't reject yuji completely which is evident in his wish to try a different path and that is to live with others and not curse them like yuji said. Sukuna type people believe in might is the right philosophy so all they need is a good beating to get things through their thick skull... And then all is good..

And If he really hated yuji or was furious at him he would have cursed him or would have rejected him outright like he has done before but he did not....

Although this is my personal opinion, I believe there's more to sukuna yuji that we have yet to see as sukuna went from calling himself a curse to accepting his faults and wishing to try a different path... Plus yuuji was assuring them that the finger is not dangerous and had this gentle look on his face remembering sukuna .. So maybe they did talk more or it's the soul bond ig..

Yes, I am surprised gege didn't give us an explanation on resonance but it definitely was a big issue as juju high literally excluded yuji from their plans.. So something must have caused this..Choso also mentioned in 251 that yuji sukuna souls are combined and that they are special case.. So I am hoping we get some more info..

Honestly I really wanted them to live together in this life but I don't want to complain as my mutual pointed out it was gege who showed us that this idea is feasible in the first place otherwise we all were almost convinced that yuji will die.. ..

Please do not write a fic , and definitely not send me the link, coz I definitely am so not gonna read it 🫣🫣🫣..

It's alright.. I have made this account specifically for sukuna and yuji. So if not them,then who am I even gonna talk about.... I am always ready to yap when it comes to yuji and sukuna..

#long post #i love when i get the chance to pour out my thoughts like this #sukuita asks #sukuita #asks

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tokiro07 · 4 months ago

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Undead Unluck ch.220 thoughts

[Here For a Good Time AND a Long Time!]

(Contents: thematic analysis - happiness/autonomy)

All Up From Here

What'd I tell ya? You don't give things a numerical score, cus something better is always capable of coming along. Tozuka himself even incorporated my exact feelings into this chapter!

"I'm as happy as can be, Andy." "What are you talkin' about, Nico?! It's all up from here!!"

Acknowledging that you're happy is of course an important first step to actually being happy, but to say that you can't be happier is to say that you'll never be this happy again, like a preemptive refusal to accept greater happiness in the future

This is also why I don't personally like to throw around "peak" as a compliment, because again it implies that nothing compares now and never will again. It puts the recipient on a pedestal, and forces all further interactions to be analyzed exclusively in comparison rather than on their own

Take me for example: long-time readers of mine know that Medaka Box is my favorite manga of all time, but as UU has continued to grow and evolve artistically and narratively, I've been forced to reexamine my relationship with both series. By insisting that nothing would ever surpass Medaka Box in my heart, I've been actively holding my opinion of UU down, refusing to change the shape of the hole that Medaka Box left in my life to fit UU, afraid that doing so would cause me to forget Medaka Box

...Huh, that sounds familiar, doesn't it?

Andy telling Nico to look forward rather than becoming complacent with his current happiness or previous joys is actually a perfect capstone to their last meeting in the previous loop, as Nico's inability to allow Mico to make him happy in Ichico's place was ultimately what allowed Ragnarok to reach a critical point as quickly as it did. He certainly won't allow it to get to that point again, but rooting himself in the high of getting married rather than looking forward to the perpetuity of married life rings a bit of a bell, and one that Andy is quick to silence

This Too Shall Pass

Andy himself needs to take a future-focused stance like this, as if he doesn't, he would certainly go insane...again. In L100, he spent 200 years trying to kill himself because he saw no future in his immortality, just a constant waste of time with no purpose or goal. He would never find love, and any love he did find would be fleeting, as he would watch everyone he cared for slip away. He'd peaked when he had his gang in the Wild West, and everything since then was downhill

Until he met Fuuko

Once Fuuko was in Andy's life, suddenly every day was better than the last. Every day was fun, every day was worth living, and even when he couldn't see her anymore, when he was stuck eternally burning alive on the sun, he knew that there would be a day when the suffering would end. Because he had something to look forward to, the knowledge that things would get better, Andy was able to put up with literally the most painful hardship anyone has ever experienced without a word of complaint

All thanks to Fuuko

No Fate But What We Make

Fuuko, of course, went through the same thing, just on a much smaller scale. She went through ten years of believing that there was no future in a life where she couldn't touch anyone, and the only thing that kept her going was the serialization of a manga. Once it ended, so too did the roadmap of her life; if the only thing she could look forward to was the next chapter, there was no future without one

It was only when she met Andy that she began to see possibilities for herself, that that there was a reason to keep going. Because of Andy, Fuuko was able to look ahead and make a real plan for herself, to commit to multiple preparations and contingencies across 200 years of loneliness, to lay the foundation for her and everyone else's happiness

All thanks to Andy

But Fuuko interestingly takes the opposite approach here. While she builds her future, she seems to think of it as a culmination of the past. She says that the moment of their meeting wasn't the start of their story, but rather Andy's very creation was the start, that he and his life choices are what brought the present and future into possibility. Fuuko attributes all of her successes to him, a domino chain that simply swept her along

But just like Andy corrected Nico, so too does he correct Fuuko

"It started with you, Andy. If you were never born, then I -" "Ha! It was just dumb luck. You're the one that turned that luck into fate."

In this moment, Fuuko has an external locus of control, believing herself to have been dealt a bad hand and that she just got lucky when she swapped out her cards, but that's not what Andy sees. He sees a woman who made the right calls with what she had, who swapped out the right cards and made the right bluffs to turn a bad hand around and win big anyway, and he doesn't want her to lose sight of that

Just like he doesn't want Nico to think his life is going downhill, he doesn't want Fuuko to think her life isn't in her control. If life isn't in your control, then neither is your happiness; anything you have can be taken away, and you forfeit the ability to take it back. Again, Andy can attest to that: he only found Fuuko by sheer dumb luck

No one orchestrated their meeting, it just happened, and it was only because Fuuko made the choice to embrace the consequences of that meeting that their lives turned out for the best. If Fuuko hadn't pushed herself to kiss Andy and save both of them from being captured by the Union, she likely would have been killed and he probably would have somehow found his way back to being Victor, this persona fading into nothing while still remaining unnamed

When hardships inevitably come Fuuko's way again, she needs to understand that she can't rely on luck to save her, but she can rely on herself. She's proven it a thousand times, and even become someone that everyone else can rely on; with her own hands, she defied everyone's destinies and forged a happy ending for all of them. That's not something that could have just happened by the whims of fate, only by the choices of someone with the strength to take control of their own life. After 100 loops with only subtle variations thanks to the minimal interference of the only one who could, the 101st has the chance to create the perfect ending specifically because Fuuko chose to interfere when given the opportunity

And now she has the opportunity to interfere one last time

Let's Enjoy Life

We've talked about it endlessly at this point, but Ruin is a clear foil to Andy in a ton of ways, and this chapter is a perfect illustration of that concept, literally. Not only is this fight happening on the bridge where Andy and Fuuko first met, the flow of the battle itself is like a speedrun of the first 20 chapters

The meteors and lightning from last chapter, getting hit by a vehicle and reduced to a head (the train in ch.1 or the truck in ch.2), having his body sealed by specially made Union containers (eye-scar guy in ch.1), getting pummeled by Void on the highway (ch.2), facing Shen immediately after (ch.3), then jumping straight to being launched into space by Nyoi Kinko (ch.16). Even the way he talks, insisting "this isn't enough to kill me" is pretty much exactly what Andy and Victor would say whenever anyone would hit them with anything - because he thinks they're trying to kill him

But that's not the goal. It never was

Tozuka played a fun little trick on us from the very beginning of the series. By calling UU "the story of [the] quest for the greatest death ever," the expectation that was set up was that we would see the most extravagant, bombastic and show-stopping death ever put to page, that the goal was to find the one thing that could actually overcome immortality. He made a promise that the story would end with Andy's demise and all the spectacle that came with it

With this chapter, it is clear that this was a promise that Tozuka had no intention of keeping

Not in the sense that Andy won't die, I have a hard time seeing this series ending without that punctuation to his story, but the death itself is no longer the purpose of the journey, and I would argue never really has been. The "greatest death ever" is one that comes at the end of a fulfilling life, one where the deceased is surrounded by people who love them and, even through the tears and grief, everyone can look back and smile. This was the lesson that Fuuko learned in ch.1 as she fell to what she thought was her death; the suicide that was meant to end her suffering simply put into perspective how empty her life had been, and being saved, being held, being shown affection by Andy showed her what her life could be

Ch.1 was a perfect preview of the rest of the series, because as I've said many times over by now, Andy and Fuuko's stories are near identical. Just as Fuuko learned that life needs to be lived for death to have meaning, so too would Andy. And now, two hundred and twenty chapters later, Tozuka has finally paid off that slow burn by having Andy acknowledge that he enjoys life!

And now he wants Ruin to do the same.

"I've got one rule and one rule only!! ... Now, c'mon, You follow it too!! Let's enjoy what life has to offer!!"

"You follow it too."

Andy doesn't want to kill Ruin. He wants Ruin to understand the truth. Ruin loves the world, and that's a start, but he wants to eliminate the thing that makes the world truly beautiful - the people in it. Andy's "ridiculously long life" was pointless because he was alone, and Ruin's life is set to be just as long. He insists that he only needs the Rules, but how long can that sustain his soul? At best, madness is all that awaits him, but as we said, a life that accepts it will never be happier is one that has accepted it will be unhappy

Ruin needs to be shown that his way of life will only lead to unhappiness, and that there's a better way. That loving people and being loved by people is better than hating them and isolating from them. Just like Andy drifted through life ambiently allowing things to happen to him, taking opportunities as they came along rather than actively working towards a goal, so too is Ruin losing control in this fight. He's getting smacked around like a rag doll by the culmination of the life that Andy lived, and the Rules he hid behind to distance himself from humanity can't do a damn thing to help him

When Andy thought there was nothing more he could do, that he had to sacrifice himself to the Union to keep Fuuko alive, she stepped up to save both of them, reaching out to someone else for the first time. That was the moment Andy's life started to change, the moment that Andy was truly born, and I believe that Ruin is about to learn exactly what that's like

Undeath and Rebirth

The official twitter gave us a fun bit of insight this week: in L100, the mark over Ruin's eye that I've been calling a scar this whole time was actually a birthmark. While the mark from Remember on Andy actually is a scar, it was present from the moment of Andy's creation, making it functionally identical to a birthmark

But now, in L101, both of these birthmarks are gone. Andy no longer has Remember, and Victor is no longer trying to return, so his wound has healed; meanwhile, Ruin's natural birthmark has been subsumed by a wound. Andy is no longer defined by his origin and now can look toward the future, while Ruin is likely hiding from his origin, covering it up and ignoring the implications of it

Andy was reborn and able to heal, but Ruin is more damaged than ever; more ruined than ever. With his birthmark gone, the pain of his past can be left in the past, but by marring himself so grievously, there will always be a reminder of it. It will only be once Ruin learns to look forward like Andy, like Fuuko, that he will be able to heal and be reborn as well. It is only then that he will cease to be ruined

Conclusion

Of course, this is all assuming that Tozuka actually cares enough about Ruin to keep him around and actively develop him. For all I know, this is going to be another Kururu situation where I'm filling holes that Tozuka only ever planned to leave empty, but as I've said a thousand times, Tozuka has built up more than enough good will for me to give him that benefit of the doubt. I wholeheartedly believe that Tozuka has a plan for Ruin (and hopefully for Kururu too), but in the end I'll still be okay with it either way so long as he uses them properly to develop and analyze Andy and Fuuko

At the end of the day, Ruin's character has given me another angle to approach our leads from, and that's what a good foil is supposed to do. Even if Ruin doesn't accept the lessons and is made to be an illustration of what happens when one refuses to live their life no matter what, that's just as good narratively, even if it's sad to think about. We'll just have to keep reading and enjoy what Tozuka has to offer, whatever that may be

...Ah, crumbs, do I need to change my sign-off???

The original translation was "let's enjoy life," but presumably for either accuracy or dramatic flair, David Evelyn went with "what life has to offer" this time. Now that it's been introduced in canon, that's the quote that's going to become iconic, and most people won't know about Tozuka's convention appearance or the chapter blurb that only appeared in the original magazine run! "Let's enjoy life" is inevitably going to be forgotten as the phrasing of the sentiment, so should I fight the tides and stick with the original, or accept reality and adapt accordingly...

...Well, when I put it that way, after everything I've said in this review, I think my choice is pretty clear. If anyone wants me to go back to the old way, let me know, but for now:

Until next time, let's enjoy what life has to offer!!

#undead unluck #fouryearsandananime #4y1a reviews

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