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blueteller · 3 months ago

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Halour, I'm kinda curious... What crimes have Cale done, exactly? I see a number of "crime list" videos about him but the wiki don't really confirm anything💀

— 🌄

...The Time Has Come. 😌

I have long promised this list, so perfect timing! Thank you very much for this question! Allow me to introduce you to:

Cale Henituse's Crime List

(Just for the fun of it, I tried to give a different example for every single one of these. Some events repeat, but not the crimes!)

1) Accessibility of Records for Tax Department

Cale looted significant amounts of money from the Magic Tower and many other places, without leaving any legal trace.

2) Affray

Multiple occasions, like pretty much everything that happened in the Molden Kingdom.

3) Aggravated Assault

Cale rarely gets physically involved in a fight, but I think suddenly strangling Prince Adin qualifies.

4) Aggravated Burglary

Every single time "Real Arm" is in business.

5) Allowing Dog or Cat To Be a Nuisance

How else would you call encouraging your animal shape-shifting kids to be involved in criminal activity? Also Fluffy the Puppy was under Cale's command even if he technically belonged to Princess Jopis, I say it totally counts.

6) Ammunition – Possessing, Acquiring or Carrying

Cale intentionally pocketed magic bombs from the Plaza Terror Incident and used them later on.

7) Animal Cruelty

...Does Cale subjecting On to his "nice act" in front of Litana counts? Oh it definitely counts. That poor child.

8) Armed Robbery

That time Cale & co. robbed the Mercenary Guilds in Leeb-An City, for instance.

9) Arson

Setting the Wind Island on fire.

10) Assaulting or Resisting Police

That time Cale & co. went to Sez Kingdom. Pretty sure the knights trying to stop them from kidnapping the king counts as "resisting law enforcement".

11) Being Disguised With Unlawful Intent

Priest Cale in a nutshell.

12) Blackmail

That time Cale talked to Antonio Gyerre.

13) Breaking and Entering

Cale coming to the Sekka Estate.

14) Careless Driving

Debatable since a fantasy world doesn't own cars – but. I count Cale breaking through walls of a maze on a mother-effing Stone Imugi as "irresponsible driving". Just think of what kind of example you're setting for the kids, Cale!

15) Carrying a Loaded Firearm in Public

Cale has Raon following him everywhere, so.....?

16) Carrying Out Plumbing Work Without License or Registration

Cale has an underground villa in the Forest of Darkness. I'm pretty sure whatever construction work they did there would count as illegal.

17) Carrying Out Work Without a Building Permit

Cale had Dragons teleport an entire castle into the Forest of Darkness. Yet again, involves a building with no legal paperwork.

18) Causing Injury Intentionally

Obviously. Like making fiery lightning bolt strike in the middle of an Elf Village attack. Or hitting a radish with a rock.

19) Collecting or Making Documents Likely to Facilitate Terrorist Acts

Everything involving Knight Rex after he became a terrorist.

20) Conspiracy

Cale and Alberu talking about anything.

21) Control of Body Armor

After reading it up, I decided that mana disruption device ABSOLUTELY falls into this category.

22) Control and Use of Dangerous Articles

Cale adopting pretty much everyone on his team.

23) Corrupting Benefits Received By Commonwealth Public Official

Cale using Alberu's golden plaque to trap the White Star with Embrace. I mean, if being infected with that clown doesn't count as corruption, I don't know what does.

24) Cultivation of Narcotic Plants

Cale letting Hong eat plants in the Forest of Darkness. It IS, in his own words, his own backyard.

25) Dangerous Non-Guard Dog Attacks or Bites a Person or Animal with Person in Control

Cale letting Choi Han beat up Adin. ...Well, Choi Han COULD be counted as a Guard Dog, but. They never formalized the paperwork? I say it counts since Choi Han isn't legally registered!

26) Dealing With Property Suspected of Being Proceeds of Crime

Cale renting a house from Odeus Flynn.

27) Dealing With Property Which Subsequently Becomes an Instrument of Crime

Cale buying the Magic Tower before he proceeds to kidnap Mueller.

28) Delaying the Entry of Police

Cale not letting the law enforcement know about the Plaza Terror Incident beforehand. Also, activating the mana disruption device, knowing it would hinder their efforts to stop terrorism. ...Yes Cale & co. prevented said terrorism better on their own but it still counts.

29) Deliberately Omitting Information

Cale making an Vow of Death to Choi Han claiming that he can't tell him anything.

30) Destroying, Damaging and/or Interfering with Any Works of a Water Corporation

Setting the Lake of God's Tears on fire.

31) Destroying or Damaging Property

Cale destroying houses in the Gyerre territory.

32) Destruction of Evidence

Cale and Raon blowing up Hais Island 5 to cover up Ron's infiltration.

33) Directing the Activities of a Terrorist Organization

Cale's entire career in a nutshell, really.

34) Discharge Missile to Endanger Person or Property

Cale blowing up the whirlpools in the Ubarr territory.

35) Dishonestly Cause a Loss

Cale tricking the White Star into the abandoned underground city.

36) Disturbing Religious Worship

Cale messing with the Sun God's Church for being mean to Mary.

37) Driving an Unregistered Vehicle

Cale & co. using Mary's bone Dragon.

38) Drunkards Behaving in Riotous or Disorderly Manner

Cale pretending to be drunk in the Gyerre territory.

39) Endangering Safety of Aircraft

Cale letting his allies abroad an airship during the Jungle battle.

40) Entering a Place Without Authority or Lawful Excuse

Cale rescuing Raon.

41) Extortion With Threats to Destroy Property

Cale threatening the slave traffickers in the Gyerre territory.

42) Failure to Notify the Authorities of Criminal Activity

Cale doesn't notify Alberu of crap, unless it's to make him clean-up the aftermath.

43) Failure to Register a Pet

Pretty sure Cale registered exactly none of his allies. ...Except maybe the Tiger Tribe that one time they moved into Harris Village with Deruth's permission. Everyone else? Not a chance.

44) Falsifying or Concealing Identity

Cale acting as Naru von Ejellan in Endable Kingdom.

45) Forgery of Documents

Cale and Taylor faking an ancient document to fool the White Star.

46) Fraud

Cale promising Plavin Singten benefits for siding with the new Sun Church.

47) Getting Funds To, From, or For a Terrorist Organization

Cale sponsoring his allies, like giving Rosalyn magic stones.

48) Going Equipped for Stealing

Cale making Real Arm uniform.

49) Handling Stolen Goods

Cale using Divine Items.

50) Identity Theft

Cale introducing himself as Bob.

51) Indecent Assault

Cale telling Choi Han to strip that one time. (Yes, it actually happened. ...Not the way shippers wished for, obviously.)

52) Inducement to Be Appointed Liquidator

Cale helping Princess Jopis overthrow her sister on the condition of benefits for the Roan Kingdom.

53) Insider Trading

Cale selling Alberu dead mana from a Dragon.

54) Intentionally or Recklessly Causing a Bushfire

Cale setting that bush monster on fire in Xiaolen.

55) Introduction of a Drug of Dependence Into the Body of Another Person

Cale letting Rosalyn drink coffee on Earth 3.

56) Kidnapping

Cale & co. capturing Venion Stan.

57) Leaving Children Without Supervision

Cale letting the kids look for Mueller.

58) Lighting of Fires in the Open Air

Cale using Fire of Destruction against Sky Attribute.

59) Loitering Near Schools

Cale & the kittens in the Sez Kingdom.

60) Loitering With Intent to Commit an Indictable Offence

Cale letting Clopeh Sekka spot him that first time.

61) Manslaughter

Cale letting Choi Han, Rosalyn and Lock go and destroy the Archduke's Estate.

62) Membership of a Terrorist Organization

Cale making up Real Arm.

63) Murder

Cale killing the White Star.

64) Negligent Manslaughter

Cale letting Ron go on a vacation.

65) Non-dangerous Dog Attacks

Cale letting Choi Han spar with Hilsman.

66) Obtaining Property By Deception

Litana giving Cale free stuff.

67) Offences Connected With Explosive Substances

Cale commissioning Eruhaben to create Dragon's Rage.

68) Other Acts Done in Preparation for, or Planning, Terrorist Acts

Every morning Cale drinks lemon tea.

69) Possessing More Fish Than the Catch Limit

Cale dealing with Whales. ...Whales are fish, what are you talking about?

70) Possessing Controlled Weapon, Housebreaking Implements, and Things Connected With Terrorist Attacks

Everything Cale owns in the Super Rock Villa.

71) Possession of Precursor Chemicals

Cale making Billos buy alchemy ingredients.

72) Prohibited Weapons

Cale utilizing the Dragon Bones in battle.

73) Providing or Receiving Training Connected With Terrorist Acts

Cale letting his people train in his backyard.

74) Public Nuisance

Cale letting Choi Han act.

75) Reckless Conduct Endangering Life and/or Endangering Serious Injury

Cale every time he uses his Ancient Powers.

76) Recruiting for a Terrorist Organization

Cale adopting the Tiger Tribe.

77) Robbery

Stealing magic stones from the Alchemy Towers.

78) Sabotage

Cale going behind the Empire's back while he helps out the Whipper Kingdom.

79) Setting Traps to Kill

Cale Ghost Operation during the sea battle against the Indomitable Alliance.

80) Smuggling

Cale helping Cage and Taylor into capital.

81) Stalking

Cale entering Alberu's bedroom whenever he wants.

82) Stating False Name When Requested

Cale never letting anyone know about the transmigration and calling himself Cale Henituse.

83) Tax Evasion

Willful tax evasion for sudden wealth increase.

84) Terrorist Acts

Cale & co. detonating a bomb at Maple Castle.

85) Theft

Cale obtaining the blood drinking crown.

86) Threats to Inflict Serious Injury

Cale & co. threatening King Bakehe.

87) Threats to Kill

Cale cheerfully informing Adin he's going to personally kill him.

88) Torture and Interrogation

Cale ordering Beacrox to deal with the Magic Spearman.

89) Unauthorized Access to Restricted Data

Cale & co. coming to the Directory. ...Yes Bud was the Mercenary King so technically it was legal, except from the Mercenary Guild's perspective, it was break and entering.

80) Unlawful Assembly

Cale hanging out with Dragons.

81) Unlawful Oaths to Commit Treason

Cale promising to destroy the Alchemy Belltower to Rei Stecker.

82) Unlicensed Driving

Cale riding Dark Tiger Alberu.

83) Willful Damage

Cale employing Archie to destroy Duke Sekka's statues.

Any other crimes I forgot to list? Let me know!

***

BONUS CONTENT

With the help of others, we've expanded the original list of Cale's crimes!

84) Aiding and Hiding Fugitives

Cale helping out Hannah and Jack.

85) Aircraft Hijacking

Cale & co. taking over the Empire's airships.

86) Being an Accessory to Crimes

All Cale's deals with Billos in a nutshell.

87) Child Labor Law Violation

Cale making children work for their meals. Even if he's actually just adopting strays under the guise of formal work, said formal work is still illegal. Just admit you care, you weirdo.

88) Defamation

Cale spreading recordings of Adin being evil acros the Empire.

89) Deliberate Damage and/or Destruction of Currency

Cale happily throwing coins into lava.

90) Ecoterrorism

Wiping whole islands off the map counts as severe destruction of the environment.

91) Fly-tipping/Littering

Cale casually defenestrating Adin. Watch where you throw garbage, Cale. There are trash bins for a reason!

92) Harassment

Cale ordering Beacrox to beat up mountain bandits.

93) Illegal Detention/Imprisonment

Capturing prisoners of war, like the Dragon Half-Blood or the Flame Dwarves.

94) Illegal Goods Trade

Cale selling and buying items at the Caro Kingdom Auction.

95) Impersonation

Cale pretending to be different people in the Indignity Test.

96) Intentional Destruction of Cultural Heritage

Cale setting the Lake of God's Tears on Fire. Also, blowing up the Magic Tower.

97) Plunder of Public Property

Cale & co. destroying the walls of the capital of the Empire.

98) Trafficking Endangered Plants Accross Borders

Cale transporting the Fake World Tree in his badge.

99) Treason of the Crown

Cale treating his Hyung-nim with utter disrespect, such as comparing the Shining Sun of the Kingdom to a squirrel.

100) Trespassing

Cale in Endable Kingdom.

BONUS BONUS CONTENT

Not technically illegal, but:

101) Crime Against One's Well-Being

Cale abusing his health in such horrific ways even a regeneration power cannot keep up with him.

102) Crime Against Fashion

Cale preferring only black and plain clothes when he could look good in anything.

103) Crime of Self-Delusion

Cale thinking he still has a chance at slacker life.

104) Spreading Misinformation

Cale's track record of causing misunderstandings everywhere he goes is frankly terrifying.

105) THAT FACE

Cale's fabulous looks are a crime in of itself. It deserves a spot on the list.

#tcf #trash of the count's family #lcf #lout of count's family #tcf humor #cale henituse #cale #tcf cale #cale's criminal record #q&a #replies

651 notes · View notes

kaiser1ns · 11 months ago

Text

𝗺𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗹 𝗸𝗮𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

╹synopsis :: you hated him from the moment he showed up at the bastard munchen tryouts — you can't stand him, it's impossible, or so you thought.

╹contents :: 8.9 k words aka word vomit, fluff and two kind of suggestive scenes,mostly pre-timeskip kaiser, reader is football fanatic, kaiser loves to annoy her(he is just in love with her), just one teenager denying their feelings while the other is clearly in love, mentions of her parents - to clarify they are not dead !, mentions of real players from the actual club bayern munchen, i don't know if I can put this in the slow burn section? she hates him but she loves him.

╹notes :: 100 followers special i gave my blood, sweat and tears for this, please spare me. sorry for any grammar mistakes, hope you enjoy! for my one and only, and big thanks to @kooriou 🤍

You hated Michael Kaiser from the first moment he stepped into Bastard München Academy, an instant wave of annoyance washed over you. His arrogance and presence got on your nerves, making it impossible to even look at him. But you had to — that was your job as a future assistant coach for the best team in Germany, and who knows maybe you can snatch your uncle's position as manager.

As the tryouts unfolded, you observed him closely, jotting down notes on his skills and trying to give him some initial stats, which to your dismay were either tier A or S. Despite the irritation, there was no point in lying, he was outstanding and he knew what he was doing - or rather, he knew what he wanted. You saw as he teamed up with the boy who wore the jersey with number 20. They made up a pretty good duo, and with Ness's passes and Kaiser's fast attacks, no one could stop them.

Perhaps beneath the thorny exterior, Michael Kaiser was the player Bastard München looked for—someone who could elevate them to new heights. As the final whistle blew, you already knew the outcome that they would both be accepted into the team, and you'd have to get used to seeing his face almost every day. You got up and walked over to your uncle as all the recruits were lined up, looking at them, as your eyes landed on the striker with with long blonde hair, blue eyes, and a blue rose tattoo on his neck. You stared at him, furrowing your eyebrows and with squinted eyes, a silent expression of displeasure etching across your face.

In that subtle gesture, frustration found a physical form; it was a language spoken without words, a non-verbal protest to whatever disturbance had disrupted your peace — and the one who caused it starred back at you, smirking smugly at you, but he turned back to listen to the coach's speech.

"And with that, we welcome you in Bastard Munchen. We hope you will meet and exceed our expectations, and now I will give the word to my niece Y/N who will also work with all of you youngsters." You were still lost in the staring contest with the boy who paid you no mind, and now everyone looked at you, some were getting scared seeing you so oppressed by something; were they that bad that the coach had to ask his niece about another opinion?

Your uncle cleared his throat, making you come back to the real world, a little taken back from the sudden shift of focus. "Ah, yes, of course." as you stood there with all of your glory and pride like you were the president and everyone waited for your long waited speech "As the future of Bastard Munchen, you will be the ones to continue the legacy set by the club's legendary players. Work hard so you can achieve your goals, as you should always believe in yourself. Make every impossibility a reality."

Your words echoed through the training grounds, making the boys happy to hear something from a beautiful girl - in one way or another, something had to keep them going. As you finished your speech, you caught his eye again, but this time, there was a glimmer of amusement. Was there anything wrong with the things you said? You tried your best to sound like every coach who talks to their team with all the "work hard and give your best shot" stuff. You hope you won't become like that in the future.

Your uncle nodded approvingly, signaling the end of the meeting. The boys started leaving one by one, but the blue-eyed genius stayed, approaching you with confidence.

”Impressive speech, Little Miss, but actions speak louder than words, don't they?" he remarked with a smirk, leaving you with a mix of irritation. You haven't even known each other for a day and you already want to gouge out his eyes. "Talk about yourself, Mister. Show results, and then talk to me again."

Kaiser chuckled, his smile growing wider as he came closer to you, rising a hand as he delicately slid his fingers under your chin, lifting it ever so slightly, your breath hitched from the sudden move.

"We share some similar goals, I will give you that. Be sure to watch me making the impossible your new reality." he walked away, leaving you standing there like a statue - a blushing statue at that.

You definitely hate him.

WEEK 2 AFTER THE TRYOUTS:

In the following weeks, as training sessions progressed and the team started bonding, you couldn't deny that Michael's skills were exceptional. Despite his arrogant attitude, there was a reason why he wore that smug expression. The team was carried by his influence, and you found yourself unfortunately acknowledging his impact. Kaiser Impact, huh? That’s one way to call it.

He approached you, the smirk replaced by a genuine smile. "Not bad, right? I noticed the way you looked only at me," he said, as you rolled your eyes, trying to maintain your composure as you handed him a water bottle "Don't get too comfortable now. This doesn't mean you're off the hook. There's still a long way to go."

The blonde boy chuckled, seemingly unfazed, taking the bottle from your hand, making your fingers briefly touch as he kept eye contact. "I wouldn't want it any other way, Prinzessin. Now what are my stats? I’m sure they went higher." You shot him a skeptical glance, unimpressed by his playfulness. "Stats? Do you mean your nonexistence score? Like in a video game or something," you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest.

He laughed at your comment. "Maybe not a game, but God's challenge, and I'm here to be the best of the best and eventually surpass Noel Noa," he replied with a cocky grin.

Rolling your eyes once more, you couldn't deny the feeling you had when talking back at him. "Fine, let's humor your challenge sent from above for a moment. Strength: still lacking, form: needs improvement, and humility: nonexistent," you assessed, ticking off imaginary boxes in the air. "But hey, you did manage to catch my attention for being the most annoying person I have ever met, so I'll give you that."

Kaiser raised his eyebrows, took a sip from the water bottle, and said, "Well, Prinzessin, catching your attention is just another bonus for me." You scoffed, "Smooth talker, aren't you? But like you said actions speak louder than words, so do me a favor and leave me alone, you are not the only one who has to work hard."

His eyes gleamed with a mischievous glint as he took a step closer, narrowing the distance between you. "Oh, I plan on proving myself in more ways than one. Consider this just the beginning." With that, he went back to the others, leaving you to wonder whether he was genuinely committed to improving or just enjoying getting under your skin.

Deciding to continue your work – which for now was to arrange the water and the towels ready for the players – paying no mind to the world around you, until you felt a hand on your shoulder, thinking it was Kaiser again, but it was your uncle - the head coach. His touch was firm yet comforting, a familiar presence amidst the chaos made by the young athletes.

You turned around, a mixture of surprise and relief coloring your expression. Your uncle, Franz Bauer, wore a knowing smile that hinted comfort “How are you doing so far, Y/N? Is something or rather someone bothering you?” He spoke in a low, reassuring tone. You took a moment to collect your thoughts, grateful for your uncle's concern, but you found it strange how he always knows and notices when you have trouble.

"I'm managing, Uncle Franz," you replied, a faint smile on your lips. "Just the usual, dealing with boys my age. Nothing that I can't handle."

His gaze held a depth of understanding, and as he nodded at you. "I appreciate the help. You know, you remind me of my younger self because I too was an errand kid."

He wanted something from you, and you knew it by the way he started to talk about how much you were like him as a child. He always does it. "Just get to the point. Is there anything specific you want me to do?"

Franz laughed slightly ”You do catch up quickly,” his voice dropping to a confidential tone. "I've been observing you, and I can't help but notice the way you look at the team, wanting to comment on the formations, the positions, and the players themselves. I've been thinking about expanding your role in the team, perhaps as an assistant coach."

The proposition caught you off guard, and your eyes widened in surprise. "Assistant coach? Uncle, I appreciate the offer, but I'm not sure I have the experience for that."

He placed a hand on your shoulder again, a reassuring squeeze. "Well, you will be an assistant coach in training. Experience is gained through opportunities, Y/N. I see potential in you, a natural talent." your eyes widen suddenly “So, for the rest of the training session, you will be the boss.”

“But I-” he cut you off by standing behind you and pushing you forward “No objections, or I'll call your parents to pick you up. You don’t want that, right?” having no time to answer, you were next to the other coaching staff as your uncle gave a thumbs up from the benches with water and towels. That old bastard Well, you better be here training some naive and arrogant footballers, than being home studying economics.

Taking a deep breath, you accepted the challenge, even if you didn't want to. As you stepped onto the field, the weight of the whistle in your hand felt foreign, yet empowering. The players eyed you curiously, some exchanging glances, unsure of what to make of this sudden change. Gathering the team you began to give orders. "You will go against the first team and clash with amazing players like Noel Noa, Thomas Muller, Manuel Neuer and Joshua Kimich. But let go of the thoughts about the big bad wolves chasing you - you shall become the chaser." Your uncle watched from the sidelines as if he knew something you didn't. "So for starters, we are changing the formation to 4-2-3-1 as Kaiser will be the top of the attack, Ness you will be the attacking midfielder so you gotta keep an eye on blondie over here, but also beware of your rivals. "

The players exchanged glances again, as Kaiser and Ness shared a look - shocked at your words. Is this even going to work? Is she for real? You took a moment to gauge their reactions before continuing. "Remember, this is a training session, and mistakes are welcomed. Now, destroy them."

As the training progressed, the intensity of the practice match increased, with each player giving their best to impress you. As the team executed the adjusted formation, you observed them. Kaiser made strategic moves upfront, Ness showcased skillful ball control, and the defense held its ground against the opponents.

In a surprising turn of events, the U-20 team began to dominate the match. GOAL, As you blew the final whistle after Kaiser scored the 5th and final goal of the game, ending practice. He looked at you, and again with that smile - full of self-confidence. You wanted to throw the whistle at his stupid-looking face. The sidelines erupted in cheers from the staff as your uncle gave you an approving nod, acknowledging the success of your "coaching debut", approaching you with a proud smile. "See, Y/N? You have it in you. You made them believe in the impossible about beating the old dogs, and they did it."

After the game, the players gathered around for a brief post-match discussion. The atmosphere was a mix of exhaustion and triumph. Kaiser, still riding the high of his decisive goal, approached you with a smirk.

"Well, well, well, Y/N. I never thought I'd see the day when you'd make me the star of the show," he said putting his arm on your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes, trying not to let his teasing get to you. "This was just a practice match. Let's see if you can replicate this performance in a real game."

He chuckled, "Oh, I plan on it. Just watch, Y/N."

Ness, who had been listening to the conversation, chimed in, "I have to admit, I didn't think this would work, but it did. Maybe you're not as clueless as I thought."

You shot him a glare, "Yeah, thanks Ness." The purple-haired grinned, "No problem. Just keeping you on your toes."

As the midfielder went away, sensing that his partner wanted alone time with you, Kaiser lingered for a moment, a more genuine expression on his face. "You know, Y/N, for a moment there, I almost thought you enjoyed it. Admit it being in charge, making your own choices..."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Kaiser. This was just one game. We'll see how things go in an actual game."

Kaiser looked at you, his grip tightening. "Fair enough. But, if you ever need to test some tactics, you know where to find me~."

You scoffed, removing his hand from your shoulder, "I'm not going to Hell, thank you." he continued to look at you in a way unknown to you, making you feel kinda strange "Well, maybe just a quick visit. You might find it surprisingly pleasant." You rolled your eyes again, but there was something in your chest that you were very unfamiliar with. "I'll consider it, but this doesn't mean I like you or anything."

The boy chuckled, a teasing sound coming from his lips. "Oh, I'm not expecting you to confess your undying love for me just yet, Y/N. But I have to admit, that was flattering." You shot him a skeptical look, feeling a little hot for some unknown reason. Are you getting sick? No, that shouldn’t be it, maybe is the adrenaline, yeah that’s it.

"Is that your idea of a compliment?" He shrugged, noticing how your checks started to turn red "Take it however you want. Just remember, I'm always up for a challenge, especially if it involves the impossible of winning you over, Erdbeere(Strawberry)."

You raised an eyebrow at the unexpected nickname, playing on your face. "Erdbeere? Really?"

Kaiser grinned, undeterred by your reaction. "It suits you. Sweet, but with a bit of a bite. Plus, it's fun to see that tough exterior of yours crack a little."

You sighed, realizing that arguing with him would only fuel his teasing. "Whatever. Just focus on keeping up with the same performance as today"

He winked playfully, "Oh, I'll keep up, Erdbeere. Count on it."

as Kaiser turned to leave, his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary. The teasing smile on his face softened, revealing a hint of something more genuine. "See you tomorrow, Y/N," he said, his tone unexpectedly earnest.

You watched him go, and as the distance between you and him grew, you felt something. It was a feeling you couldn't quite describe, leaving you to question it.

Alone with your thoughts, you couldn't help but replay the conversation and the teasing remarks in your mind. Kaiser's parting words echoed, and the unexpected nickname he made up for you.

"Erdbeere," you whispered to yourself, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, you liked the sound of it - just maybe, you will let it slide this time.

WEEK 4 AFTER THE TRYOUTS:

After the whole fiasco with the practice match and the “Strawberry incident”, as you liked to call it, the work in the facility was getting harder - running left and right to do tasks, printing documents, ordering equipment, dealing with the teasing remarks of this annoyingly tall boy with long gold locks and light blue eyes deep as the ocean you will let him drown. If he was on fire and you had a bottle of water - you'd drink it in front of him. Yet, amid the chaos, Michael Kaiser always managed to appear, like a haunting ghost, ready to jumpscare you in the most unexpected time.

One day, rushing to deliver some documents to the medical unit, he appeared beside you. His smirk was infuriatingly present, and his voice dripped with playful arrogance.

"Running again, Y/N? You should consider joining the team as a midfielder with all that sprinting you're doing." You shot him a warning look "Maybe if you spent less time making comments and more time working, we'd get things done faster."

Kaiser chuckled, unbothered. "Ah, but where's the fun in that? I'm just trying to lighten the mood, you are always so stressed."

"Your idea of 'fun' is questionable." you said, trying to ignore the strange flutter in your stomach that his teasing somehow managed to evoke.

As you reached the department of the medical unit, you thought you finally got rid of him. However, fate had other plans. On your way back, he appeared again, blocking your way. His tall frame casted a shadow over you, and his mischievous smile widened.

"Michael, move." you demanded with the use of his first name, trying to sound stern, but he merely leaned against the wall, crossing his arms.

"What's the rush, Y/N? Can't I talk to my amazing assistant coach?" he retorted, his eyes never leaving yours.

Annoyed, you attempted to sidestep him, but he effortlessly mirrored your movements. It became a silent dance, a game of cat and mouse in the narrow corridor. Every step you took, he countered, maintaining his blockade.

"Are you always this stubborn, or is it just for me?" he teased, a playful smile playing on his lips.

"Seriously, Kaiser, this isn't funny," you protested, feeling the irritation building up.

But he remained still, his teasing facade never fading. "Come on, now, Don't lie to yourself, you secretly enjoy our little meetings. The way your eyes light up when you see me says it all."

You scoffed, sticking out your tongue, "In your dreams." Deciding you'd had enough, you abruptly turned on your heel and started walking in the opposite direction. To your dismay, he followed, like a persistent shadow. The facility's corridors echoed with the sound of your hurried footsteps and his leisurely ones behind you until the two of you found yourselves in an empty, dimly lit room.

"Honestly what's your deal? Are you stalking me now? You like stalking girls? That's disgusting." you accused, narrowing your eyes.

He chuckled, leaning his back to the wall once again, while you were in the center of the room. "Stalking is such a harsh word. Let's call it... coincidental alignment of paths."

You groaned, turning to leave. However, in your haste, you tripped over your own feet and stumbled forward. In a split second, Kaiser went off the wall as he reached out his hands attempting to catch you mid-fall. Despite his efforts, fate had its way again, and you both fell, as you landed on top of him. Your arms were at the sides of his head, and your legs wrapped around his torso.

Time seemed to freeze for a moment, your eyes widened in surprise, your face millimeters from his, your lips slightly parting as you felt your whole body burning as your heart raced to the rhythm of an unspoken melody. Seeing his features closer, he was beautiful, and now you are the one drowning in the deep blue ocean that his eyes painted. You didn't know what was going on — you didn't know what emotions you were going through, as Kaiser's arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, an unfamiliar but very welcomed warmth spread over your body.

"I-I didn't mean to—this wasn't what I—"

"I've heard of falling for someone, but this is taking it quite literally," He teased, breaking the silence with his flirting, snapping you out of your trance.

You struggled to maintain your composure as you shuttered, attempting to push yourself off him. "G-get off me," your heart continued its upbeat dance, and you couldn't shake off the vivid image of his blue eyes that seemed to have cast a spell on you.

"Technically, you are on top of me, Prinzessin" blushing furiously as Kaiser's teasing smirk only fueled your embarrassment, making you wish the ground would swallow you whole. The room felt like it had turned into a sauna, the tension thick enough to be cut off with a knife.

Just as the bickering reached its peak, the door swung open, and Ness, the ever-curious magician, stood in the doorway. His eyes widened at the scene before him, feeling a little confused at the sight.

"Oh sorry, am I interrupting something?" Ness quirked an eyebrow, his gaze shifting between Y/N and Kaiser. The two of you exchanged a quick, panicked glance, unsure of how to respond. "Yes/No!," Kaiser and you blurted out, your faces turning even redder. Kaiser, unfazed by the interruption, grinned, while you desperately tried to stay calm as possible.

Ness raised an eyebrow, a sly smile on his lips. "Really? Because it looks like I walked in on a very romantic moment of your little play. Do I need to put on some slowed music?" He walked into the room, closing the door behind him as he continued to stare at the two of you. "I had no idea I was walking into a romantic drama." You shot a glare at Kaiser, who only winked in response. Trying to divert the attention, you stammered, "N-no, Ness, it's not what you think. We were just..." Your voice trailed off as you struggled to come up with a plausible excuse.

He, on the other hand, couldn't resist. "Well, it depends on your definition of interrupting." Ness chuckled, sensing the tension in the air. "Alright, alright, I'll leave you two to your... whatever this is." The room fell into an uneasy silence, broken only by your attempts to get up from Kaiser. "We were just, uh, having a disagreement," you finally managed to say, avoiding eye contact with both Ness and Kaiser.

Kaiser, ever the charmer, grinned at Ness. "Disagreements can be quite physical, apparently." Ness shook his head, still grinning. "Well, carry on, then. I'll just pretend I didn't see anything." As he left the room, he couldn't resist adding, "But next time, maybe lock the door." As the door closed behind Ness, you let out a breath you didn't realize were holding. Kaiser, however, couldn't help but laugh. "Quite the entrance, huh? Maybe we should argue more often."

Rolling your eyes at Kaiser's comment, you finally managed to free yourself from his grasp as you stood up in the fastest way possible, and he also rose from the ground. "Arguing more often? I think once is more than enough," you retorted, shooting him a disapproving look. Kaiser, still grinning, stretched lazily and got up from the floor. Ness's interruption had shifted the atmosphere in the room, and you couldn't shake off the embarrassment that lingered. "Thanks a lot for that," you muttered, shooting Kaiser another glare.

Seemingly unbothered, he placed a hand on his chest in mock offense. "Me? I didn't do anything. Ness just has unpredictable timing." He winked again, causing you to shake your head in disbelief. "Unpredictable timing, my foot. When will you stop with all of this? I can’t even have one peaceful day without you talking to me and saying all these things that you probably don’t even mean. Does it feel nice to play with someone’s feelings?"

Kaiser's smile faltered for a moment, his lively expression fading away as he saw yours. "Maybe I overdo it sometimes, but that doesn't mean I don't care."

You studied him for a moment, unsure whether to believe his sincerity or dismiss it as another one of his tricks. "Actions speak louder than words, Kaiser. If you genuinely care, maybe try showing it in a way that doesn't involve constant teasing and sarcasm."

The tension between you and him lingered as you both stared into each other's eyes trying to find answers locked in the depth of your souls. Finally, you decided it was time to leave "I'm going to go find Ness and make sure he doesn't go spreading any rumors," you announced, turning to leave the room. As you walked away, your mind was a swirling mess of emotions—something you couldn’t tell. He was still vivid in your thoughts, causing a knot to tighten in your stomach. As you looked behind, he was still there dusting off his clothes.

You furrowed your brows, awaiting the unknown territory of your own feelings. The warmth creeping into your cheeks and the soft tears started to paint over your face like rain. It was an unfamiliar sense, leaving you questioning the source. Was it just fire or something deeper that can get you burned?

1 WEEK LATER:

As the days passed, you found yourself avoiding him, unsure of what to think or feel. Everything was so messed up, that you barely slept or ate - when you were not helping your uncle in the faculty, you were at school, where suddenly your grades dropped, and you made excuses for your teachers and friends that you were busy with work - which is partly not a lie but not the whole truth either. Everyone sensed that something was troubling you, even so, you'd rather not tell a single living soul about it all. You couldn't escape the memories of that day, replaying the moment in your mind like a broken record.

Lost in thought, you didn’t realize that someone was next to you as you continued to pour water into the already full bottle that was overflowing over the sink until the person in question shook you by the shoulders. Without much reaction you turned around, your gaze clearly showing the sadness and lifelessness all over your face, you were tired of thinking about him. Your focus returned, the person in front of you was your uncle who was visibly worried about you. "What's going on, my dear? You know you can share everything with your old man" he said, the pain in his eyes to see his niece so down for the past week “It’s nothing … I am just trying to manage school and work.” Another lie left your lips.

Uncle Franz placed a gentle smile on his face. "I've known you since you were a kid. I can see through that facade. Something's eating you inside, and it's more than just school and work. Talk to me." You sighed, the weight of the past week bearing down on you. "It's just complicated, Uncle. I don't know how to put it into words."

He guided you to sit down at the bench near the sink, "Try me. I might be old, but I've been around the block a few times. I am sure it’s a boy problem. Because your mother was the same when she met your dad.”

How does he know it’s about a boy? Honestly, that was shocking to hear. Does he know about the strange situationship between you and Kaiser? Well, you hope he doesn't. Taking a deep breath, you began, "There's this boy, that I met not long ago, and let's say some things happened, and now I'm stuck in this mess. I can't escape it, and it's tearing me apart."

Your uncle listened intently, his eyes reflecting genuine concern. "Love can be a tricky thing, my dear. But keeping it all bottled up inside won't help. Who is this guy, and what happened?" Is that what they call love? Feeling this way because it's terrible not knowing what you want from yourself—you hesitated to answer, unsure if you want to share the details. "It's just someone, not a big deal."

“It’s Michael, isn’t it?” Your eyes widened upon your uncle’s question, and your eyes started to water, as you tried your best not to cry again. Starting to have a thing for someone is a hell of a ride, so you are going to play dumb "I don't know a person by that name." Not that dumb.

Uncle Franz leaned back. "You can deny it all you want, my dear, but your eyes just told me everything I needed to know." Feeling a mix of embarrassment, you laughed nervously, “I think you should go and get your eyes checked, you are starting to see things.” he looked at you with raised eyebrows, apparently he didn't believe you - no one would in those circumstances.

"Okay, maybe it is Michael. But it's complicated. He's so confusing, and I don't even know what he wants."

Uncle Franz patted your head ruffling your hair, "You don't know because you haven't tried talking to him. You should not be scared; just do what your heart wants.” and maybe he was right, he was always right. You just smiled at him, whipping your tears, letting him know you would try - someday eventually. “But if he hurts you one more time, we will have serious problems.” You laughed nervously, should you be scared or just revealed - guess there's one way to find out.

He stood up from the bench looking at you once more "Now cheer up and come with me, there is something I need to tell everyone on the team” and you also went with him, going into the field where they practiced.

A whistle signaled it was time for a break. Everyone gathered around the benches as you stayed closely behind your uncle, who clapped his hands, turning everyone's attention onto him, except for the boy with the blond hair who was looking at you. He took a good look at you - first at your lips, which were stuck together like a solid line, then your eyes, they shimmered with traces of sadness, yet beneath the surface, something else lingered, revealing your soul. Each glance reflected the emotions within your heart. Have you been crying? Is it because of me? He couldn't shake the feeling that he was probably the reason for your sorrow. As the others chatted, he found himself unable to look away, his attention remained fixed on you, trying to ignore the questions swirling in his mind.

“Even if it’s a friendly game with Dortmund’s U-20, we should give our best, okay? Make sure to get enough sleep and don’t skip your meals, it’s important to have your body and mind in top shape.” your uncle's voice spoke once more as the rest of the team could be heard agreeing on the upcoming friendly game with the club's biggest rival “And Kaiser you better be excellent, no missing targets, no missing shots, no mistakes. I want you to be focused next week, on the maximum output, got it?” then the coach addressed him specifically, and for the first time, Kaiser was somewhat frightened by his look, which held something very personal against him. “Yes, sir. I will do my best” he replied, masking his uneasiness with confidence. “Good, now the training is over. You can go to your dorms and rest.”

And with that, everyone scattered, leaving just the two of you, feeling his gaze still lingering on. His blue eyes seemed to be looking into your soul, he knew what was wrong with you and that he was the reason behind it all. He wanted to apologize to you, he really did, but something was stopping him and he didn't know what exactly. Come on, say something. Alas nothing came out from his mouth, and you just turned and left without saying a word, even if you wanted to talk to him too — you didn't, leaving him with his feeling of guilt.

A FEW DAYS LATER:

The day for the team to leave for Dortmund came, as there were no problems with the flight, but now you were at the hotel, where a big misunderstanding occurred. Being part of the female staff, you had to share a room with one of them, but the hotel receptionist thought you were part of the boy’s team, being a teenager. While everyone was settled, you stayed in the lobby as your uncle talked with the hotel staff, and Ness and Kaiser stood across from you on the sofa. The two of them were talking, and you were lost in thoughts about whether a room would be found for you.

Your uncle returned from the reception "The problem is solved," he said as you were more than happy to go to your room and enjoy some alone time, "But you will have a room tomorrow, because some of the guests will be leaving then," and your smile faded away, faster than it appeared.

At that moment, Ness nudged Kaiser's shoulder signaling him to act, "I can share my room with you." the striker offered, the keys hanging from his hand with a slight smile on his face. Your eyes widened when you heard the offer. “Absolutely no-”

"Fine, but no funny business." your uncle cut you off, as you looked at him with the most shocked face, your gaze met Kaiser's who had been staring at you this whole time. They can't be serious, you thought, Uncle Franz can't be serious. You mentally facepalmed yourself, having enough headaches, this was just the icing on the cake.

Of all people of course it was him. What did you do in your past life to end up in such situations? Did you murder someone, poison a royalty, or haven’t paid your debt — well you sure are paying it now.

You got up and took the keys from his hand, eyeing him suspiciously, as you got your luggage and went to the elevator before telling him not to bother you. Well, that wasn't the conversation Kaiser hoped to have with you, but it's still something. He turned to look at your uncle, now that you were not here. ��Coach, are you sure this is going to work?”

Franz chuckled, patting Kaiser on the shoulder. "Sometimes, putting people in unexpected situations helps them see things differently. Who knows, maybe sharing a room will sort the things between you two."

The boy sighed, unsure about how this would play out, as Ness patted him on the back "I just hope she doesn't make this more difficult than it already is."

“And I hope you won’t do anything more than talking. Like I said earlier, no funny business.” Kaiser just nodded “I promise."

Meanwhile, you were in the elevator, still processing the fact that you had to share a room with Kaiser, good thing you won’t sleep on the same bed. As the elevator arrived at your floor you took a deep breath and walked down the corridor, finding the room that matched the key. Opening the door, you were greeted with a very beautiful interior, a nice view of the lively night in Dortmund and ... one bed. Great, things can’t get any worse, can they?

Placing your suitcase by the bed, opening it and pulling out your pajamas. You started to undress when you heard the door open, seeing wisps of blonde hair. Panicking you raised your voice to him not to enter the room as you were still in your underwear. God, how many awkward situations are there to overcome.

Kaiser froze at the door, his hand still on the handle, as he realized the awkward situation he had just walked into. "Sorry" he quickly averted his gaze. "I didn't know you were... I'll just wait outside.” He said, closing the tiny gap he left open.

You put on your pajamas faster than Usain Bolt can run. Once you were ready you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down as you went to open the door to let him enter. It was his room after all, you can't keep him outside even if you wanted to.

As you opened the door, Kaiser stood there, his cheeks slightly flushed with embarrassment, so were yours "I'm sorry about that," he apologized again "I should have knocked, or... I don't know, you should have locked the door. You know, it could have been some stranger.”

Well he was right, you should have locked the door and kept him outside to sleep on the carpet in the hallway. You didn't say anything, you just went and sat on the bed picking up the phone to check the time [22:22] well better make a wish. You ignored him as he sat on the other side of the bed so you were back to back.

Kaiser cleared his throat, breaking the silence, “I brought you this” he said, handing you a bar of chocolate, still faced with his back. As you took the chocolate you couldn't help but notice the warmth that was forming in your heart, despite the awkwardness. "Thanks," you muttered, feeling a bit guilty for your initial reaction earlier "I'm sorry too," you finally spoke up, turning slightly to face him. "I didn't mean to be rude to you. Well, maybe I did because you deserved it.”

He turned to face you, a small smile on his lips. "It's alright,Y/N” he said softly, turning around as his eyes met yours. You agreed, offering him a smile too. "So, uh, I'll just go get changed in the bathroom, and then we can go to sleep." You nodded your head again watching as he got up from the bed and made his way to the bathroom. As the door closed behind him, you let out a big sigh, silence enveloping you again. You decided to start making the bed while he was getting changed. Putting the extra pillows between the mattress, marking the ‘territory’ as you lay down and curled up under the covers of your part.

You heard the door open and then his footsteps approaching, looking up from the barricade he wore a plain white shirt that was more loose, revealing more of his blue rose tattoo, it was a beautiful design you can't lie, and a pair of black shorts. He too looked at the pillowed wall, then at you with raised brows. “If you don't want to share a bed, I can sleep on the couch.”

“Not that I don't want to, but the couch is too small and neither you nor I can sleep comfortably on it. So that's why I put pillows in the middle, you have your part, and I have mine.” you explained, leaving him a little bit hurt because of this separation, but whatever you are comfortable with, of course. “Well, sure”

He got under his covers, trying to get cozy but the wall next to him was something he wanted to remove. How much longer are you going to hide from him? Did you hate him so much that you didn't want to see him, in the room where you both were? Guess he will talk to you tomorrow.

No, fuck that. He isn't a scaredy cat anymore, he is not the mentally weak person who constantly gave up on things he believed to be impossible. Because the chance to make it up with you is now — it's not tomorrow, it's not the next day, week, month or year. It's now.

He sat up and removed the one pillow that was separating you from seeing your faces. Catching you, closing your eyes, observing your expression how you tried to keep this innocent sleeping face, and how your chest raised with every breath. You were a good assistant and 'architect', but not a good actress.

“Y/N, I know you are not sleeping,” he whispered your name, his voice soft and full of emotion. You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, well he got you no point of pretending now. “Let's discuss everything that has happened so far. We are all alone here, no one to interrupt us.”

You sat up too,leaning back on the wooden frame, hugging your knees beneath the fluffy cover. He reached out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle and warm. He noticed your nervousness, and he reassured you, with a smile "It's okay, You can tell me anything." His voice was soothing, making you calm down.

You took a deep breath, struggling to form the words you had been holding back for so long. Your heart raced as you finally found the courage to speak, “I... I've been wanting to say... that I... I..." your voice trailed off, the words catching in your throat as you fought against your fear, this was meant to be an easy task, just to talk it out and end of story. But love is no easy task, it's a challenge that you either take and win or leave with the feeling of despair after the loss. You met his gaze, seeing nothing but love reflected back at you.

“I like you,” you finally confessed “And I didn't know what to do after all the bickering we had, you left me questioning my entire existence. Making me feel all giddy and nervous, making me confused about your own intentions.” you felt a weight lift off your chest, he listened absorbing every word you uttered.

The soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he reached out to cup your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "I like you too," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying a weight of sincerity that warmed your heart. "More than you can imagine."

You leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth and comfort he offered. "I'm sorry for everything," he murmured, his gaze filled with remorse and affection. "I never meant to hurt you. I didn't know how to approach you properly, and I wanted you to notice me. I wanted you to have eyes only for me and no one else, to think only of me. The only impossible challenge was to make you fall in love with me, but I don’t think I have to worry anymore ."

You shook your head gently, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his, feeling the warmth of his hand. You hesitated when your lips brushed against his own. You froze. What were you doing, kissing Michael Kaiser? You weren’t even sure if all the hatred you used to hold for him was now gone. He breathed in deeply. “Can I?" You took a moment of thought before you nodded, his hands now cupping your cheeks. His hands were so gentle, but the way he kissed you was not so much. It was like he was starving for you, the kiss sloppy, his tongue licking your lips, trying to taste all of you.

By the time he stopped, you forgot how to breathe, taking in a deep breath, and so did he. Despite how hot and hungry that kiss was—perhaps even able to fulfill a person's hunger for another—he was still starved for more. His lips brushed against yours once more, this time, there was no hesitation on your part. You leaned into the kiss, letting yourself get lost as you felt him smile.

His hands trailed down your arms as they settled on your waist, pulling you closer to him. The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped up in each other's embrace. As the kiss deepened, passion flared between you, igniting a fire that burned brighter with each passing moment. His tongue danced with yours, exploring every inch of your mouth as if trying to memorize the taste of you.

Time seemed not to exist anymore, as all that mattered was the feel of Kaiserl's lips against yours and the way his touch set your skin ablaze with desire. When the kiss finally ended, you were left breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to catch your breath. And as you stared into each other's eyes and as they say, eyes are windows to the soul, you knew one thing for sure — he will forever be yours, and you will be forever his.

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, making you arise from your deep slumber, slowly opening your eyes, trying to remember where you were. You had a very strange dream where you got to share a room with Kaiser and you two kissed. It was a nice dream indeed but things like this happened only in the romantic movies.

You wanted to go to the bathroom, but something stopped you from standing up. Confusion was encountered because why was there anything stopping you from getting up. As you took in your surroundings, the details of the dream flooded back to you—the shared room, the confession, and most importantly the unexpected kiss. It felt so vivid, so real, that it left you questioning whether was it really a dream. Looking down to see the force that kept you in a place came not from anyone - but from Kaiser himself. Wait a damn minute, Kaiser!?, you thought to yourself panicking in the process.

Reaching out and touching Kaiser's shoulder, half expecting him to vanish like a fragment of your imagination, but be was very much real , as his soft breathing and light snores reassured you that he was peacefully asleep. He turned around, pulling you down again, your back leaning against his chest, as the warmth of his embrace enveloped you like a comforting blanket. It wasn't a dream. You were indeed lying beside Michael Kaiser.

Wait, so the kiss is real? No, it can't be... right? A million questions ran through your head as you felt him rest his head on the crook of your neck. You suddenly went numb, but tried to see his face one more time, and to your suprise he blinked, trying to open his eyes, with a smile so angelic, for a person with such devilish persona.

"Good morning, Meine Liebe" he said, his voice husky and raspy. You couldn't help but blush at they way these words came out from him, "Good morning," you managed to reply, your own voice contracts to his was soft, barely above a whisper.

His arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer as he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek. "About last night..." he started, trailing off as if searching for the right words.

"Yeah?" you gulped, suddenly feeling scared about what he might say next. "I meant every word ," he confessed, his gaze locking with yours. "And I meant that kiss too." Your heart skipped a beat, realizing that everything didn't happened in dreamland. It was real, just like the feelings between the both of you.

"I... I don't know what to say," you admitted, feeling overwhelmed by his intense but loving gaze. "You don't have to," he assured you, moving the hand that rested behind your head to pinch the check he kissed you not a moment ago. "Just know that we are together from now on.”

As you absorbed his words, a mixture of disbelief and joy washed over you.

"Together, huh?" you echoed, seeking confirmation in his eyes. Kaiser nodded, his expression serious yet filled with a warmth that melted your worries away. "Yes, together. Me and you, like a couple."

A wide smile broke across your face, and you couldn't contain the happiness within you. "I like the sound of it.” you replied, as he smiled back at you. "Glad to hear that, Erdbeere." As you settled back into the warmth of his embrace, a comfortable silence wrapped around both of you.

"My uncle will kill you tho." Kaiser chuckled, as he played with your hair. "Don't worry about it, he won't."

Somewhere in the hotel restaurant, Uncle Franz was on the verge of killing the first thing he saw because Kaiser was late for breakfast, and so were you. “I am going to kill that boy.”

1 MONTH LATER:

Kaiser touched the strands of his overgrown and messy hair as he stared at his reflection in the mirror, "I need a change," he said to Ness, who was glad to do anything for his friend.

“Like a new hairstyle?” The magician asked, wondering what was wrong with his long hair. “Yeah, Y/N said that it was getting in the way, when we cuddled. And also tying it up while playing every second bothers me.”

“Well, I am willing to help, we should have scissors in the cupboards. Go sit while I find them.” the striker sat down in the chair in front of the mirror when his friend returned with the scissors.

With tentative snips and Ness transformed Kaiser's lion mane into a stylish cut, an improvised mullet you can say. As the blonde boy was looking at himself in the big bathroom mirror, and Ness admiring his final product a knock was heard from the door. You entered with a plastic bag full of snacks — it was their day off, so you thought you’d spoil them a little but.

Proudly, he turned to you, his girlfriend of one month, to hear your opinion. "Yes, definitely! And why not add something more? How about dying the mullet blue? It will match with your tattoo."

“Sounds nice, but we don't have blue dye right now.” Kaiser said, knowing that he will have to ask Ness to go to the store to buy one, “Don't worry, I do.”

“Liebe, why do you carry hair dye in your bag?” he asked, surprised by the fact you had the item in your backpack “Well, I thought you would need one, intuition I guess.” No, it wasn't an intuition, he just talked everyday about wanting to dye his hair blue and you decided to carry a blue dye, just in case.

Women's intuition is a scary thing, he will know from now on not to mess up anything, because either way, you'll find out. But that was a worry for another day, now Kaiser was very happy with the end results. And it's the Michael Kaiser you will see from now on.

7 YEARS LATER:

Inside a very beautiful and cozy home, you tried to catch your energetic daughter, Mikaela, who was bubbling with excitement as the day of her dad’s arrival from the football tournament marked on the calendar finally came. Her giggles filled the air as she darted around the house, her tiny feet pattering against the floor, as you yelled while holding your 9-month-old son Matteo in your arms, who was laughing and clapping his hands at the sight, as you attempted to catch the energetic 4-year-old girl. “Mika, please stop running around, or you will hurt yourself.”

“Mama, I can't hear you!” How can she take so much from him, but not me? Just as you attempt to hold onto her tiny hand, the doorbell chimes. "It's Daddy!" Mikaela rushes to the door tip-toeing to reach the handle of the metal and swings it open, revealing your husband standing there, a wide grin on his face at the sight of his daughter.

Kaiser's heart swells with joy at the sight of his daughter waiting for him at the door. He bends down to scoop her up in his arms, lifting her as she squeals with delight. "Hey there, my little princess!" he exclaims, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

As Mikaela showers him with hugs and kisses, Kaiser spots Matteo nestled in his wife's arms, a smile spreading across the baby's face as he reaches out his chubby arms towards his father. With a chuckle, Kaiser takes Matteo from you, exchanging a loving glance before enveloping you in a warm embrace, holding you close as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

But their tender moment is interrupted by Mikaela's voice piping up, "Daddy, what about me?" she pouts, her arms outstretched towards her father. Kaiser laughs heartily, balancing Matteo in one arm as he bends down to scoop Mikaela up into his arms once more. He showers her with kisses, making her giggle as he sets her down, as she eagerly reaches out for the brightly wrapped present he’s been hiding behind his back, giving you some time to see each other up close, and not from the small telephone screen.

But before Mikaela can even fully enjoy her new toy, Matteo starts wriggling in his arms. "My little boy missed me too, right?" he coos, as the baby starts laughing from happiness, kicking his little feet, "See Y/N, I told you he is a future football star. Look at that kick!"

As Kaiser holds Matteo, you wrap your arms around him again. "Welcome home, my love," you whisper, giving his lips a little peck. Kaiser returns the embrace, holding you close as he breathes in the familiar scent of home. Just when you think the moment couldn’t get any sweeter, Mikaela pipes up, tugging at Kaiser’s sleeve. "Daddy, what about me? I want more kisses too!" she exclaims, puckering her lips in exaggerated anticipation.

Kaiser chuckles warmly, bending down to scoop Mikaela up once again. "Of course, sweetheart," he says, planting a flurry of kisses on her cheeks as she laughs at her father's teasing and you watch with a smile on your face your small loving family, and how you can't ask for more because you have him and you love him more than anything.

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plaidos · 4 days ago

Note

How would you legally prove to people that you aren't a trans women if they are already attacking you?

And if it is about describing systems of oppression how can it be attributed to individual people? Like if you aren't a transwomen but are mistaken as one in all aspects of life how is that different than the oppression a transwoman faces? Even in situations like doctors offices if you've changed your gender markers, had surgeries, or you are intersex I'm not sure correcting a doctor and telling them that will negate the way they choose to treat you based on initial assumptions.

again, what you’re describing interpersonal transmisogyny. anybody can experience the negative effects of how institutional transmisogyny has wormed its way into every aspect of culture, but that doesn’t mean you experience the full reality of institutional transmisogyny. and gender markers aren’t even just the start of the miriad of ways TME people can exempt themselves from institutional transmisogyny.

like, a white person who looks like they might be non-white can experience the effects of interpersonal racism, they can be refused service or treated in bigoted ways…. but that doesn’t mean they don’t still have white privilege, because white privilege isn’t Just not receiving racial harassment/etc, it’s a million other often unquantifiable things.

the same is true for straight men experiencing homophobia, right? like sure straight men who “look” gay are harassed and treated poorly for it… but they still benefit from heterosexual privilege in a gazillion other ways

like, i’m sorry, being attacked because somebody thinks you are a trans woman is not the same thing as having to be an actual real life trans woman in a transmisogynistic world. it’s very telling that you ignored the example of v-coding!

and also stop fucking saying “transwomen” you sound like a terf. it has a space. it’s “trans women”. you know… because we’re women! when you say it without a space it makes it sound like you don’t actually think we’re women? 🤔 like calling black women “blackwomen” very very dehumanising language.

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0w0tsuki · 3 months ago

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Actually let's play pretend. Let's play fucking make believe. Let us pretend that TransUnity Crusaders are right. Let us pretend that the "baeddel" is truly no ideologically different than a TERF than that she is trans inclusive. Because even in that instance there's still the question. What have baeddels actually.....you know.....DONE?

Have baeddels formed political organizations that have allies with conservative candidates solely to harm transmascs. Have there been massive anti-trasmasc baeddel rallies that gathered Nazi support and warranted coordinated counter protest? Are there common stories of beaddels violently attacking cis men they mistook for trans guys? Has a known highly socially influential baeddel billionaire funneled her money into lobbying power to ruin the state of trans rights in her country? What LAWS have baeddels been responsible for?

Hell has a baeddel even so much as been responsible for the exclusion of a tme person from the wider queer community? Because even at the end of the day. Even if we accepted the worst possible interpretation. Even if ideologically all she is a "TERF but trans" she would still have no way to socially ENFORCE that ideology. The worst she can do to you is be rude to you on the Internet. Because having bad politics doesn't magically stop you from being one of the most socially disenfranchised minorities.

If you try to equate the danger a "baeddel" poses as comparable to a TERF because of the ideology you ascribe to her, then you are either massively downplaying the real world impacts of terfism to online discourse, or you are purposefully upscaling how dangerous she is for the purpose of predatorising her.

You as a non trans woman are always going to have social power over a trans woman. Even if you play the Oppression Olympics game of trying to weigh all of your axises of oppression against hers in an attempt to signal you are more virtuous than her, the factor of the power you hold over her as a non-transfem still has to be a part of that equation. No amount of framing and predatorising her is going to change that.

Because the worst a trans woman can be still has no means of being able to harm you outside of her own words an actions. The worst they can be are "trans women who have been radicalized into a harmful ideology". That doesn't remove them from being apart of your community.

You know? Your community whose benefit is the reason you claim your exclusion of "baeddels" to be necessary? Yeah if you actually wanted TransUnity and the queer space be safe for everyone, then your approach to "baeddels" would be deradicalisation and address the issues that lead to this radicalisation. Because exclusion and social murder of a trans woman is still social murder of a trans woman. A trans woman being a "truly bad person" doesn't give you the right to misgendering her and in that note it does not give you the right to ostracize her.

#transfeminism #transmisogyny #TransUnity #baeddell

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arcanarix · 3 months ago

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Beneath You - Geto Suguru X Fem!Reader

CW // manipulation, coercion, geto is a pining mess, reader's not a jujutsu sorcerer, cunnilingus, face sitting, body worship, geto is a walking red flag but the reader has no idea for a long time, geto's got a big dick, lactation kink, reader is inexperienced

Word Count: ~10K

Summary: There’s a twist of disgust inside of him as he to compare himself to a human, but he doesn’t consider you so low. Not at all. Far from it. If anything, he may go as far as to declare with full conviction that he’s the one beneath you. Yet here you are, blessing him with that ‘common decency’ he doesn’t deserve, even still. Because that’s the kind of person you are. People like you are rare finds, and he is sworn to protect rare breeds of human like you who belong to his new world order.

AO3

Another mission takes Geto to a remote village where grade 1 curses have wreaked havoc amongst its residents. He doesn’t intend to stay for long—grade 1s are not too much of an issue for someone like him—but upon arriving, he’s stunned to already see some locals hard at work given what little tools they have to survive. While true, the existence of curses isn’t completely a secret to the general public, he’s still shocked to find a select few of these villagers have begun to fight back.

Those non-sorcerers are not as primitive as he has been led to believe…

One particular villager leaves an impression on him. You are that villager. You’re not even a sorcerer, yet you attend to those afflicted or attacked by curses at a moment’s notice.

You’re the first person he meets, on the train ride there. He’s glancing at his ticket lost in thought over everything that’s transpired since the incident with Riko, and notices you peering at the thin slip of paper, before you lock gazes with his.

“What’re you going to my next stop for?” you inquire with a smile. “It’s probably not a good idea right now. There’s been reports of mass murders by an unknown cause and I’ve been called to treat any surviving victims.”

Geto hums, a flash of irritation in his eyes because he’s not one for small talk—especially given what he’s witnessed in the past few months.

“I’m there to stop the problem myself,” he responds, his tone a bit short but you don’t seem bothered by it. “Worry not, I’m sure it’ll be over after I take care of everything.”

“Wow, you sure got it all figured out, eh?” you remark, tone laden with curiosity for him, your grin widening. Geto stares at you for a moment. Why do you remind him of someone…? “That’s good to know. It’s nice that there’s still people like that out there. I’m glad you’re here to help out that village. We can always use true heroes like you.”

Geto perks an eyebrow at that last statement, averting his gaze to the nearly empty train. The train is about to slow, meaning they are close to their stop.

“…You call me a hero and yet you’ve just met me,” he murmurs, more to himself.

Ah. He’s beginning to see who you remind him of now.

“Aw, well, let’s just say I have a knack for understanding someone’s real character,” you answer with a wink. “Since we’re going to be working together for a while, what’s your name?”

“Suguru Geto,” he answers, a bit too quickly for his own liking. Why’s that? Why is he suddenly so intrigued by you…? Why can’t he just ignore this sort of thing like he always does? He does sense something a bit unique about you, though. Perhaps it’s to sate his curiosity. Nothing more. He can forget about this mission and you by extension when this is over.

“Nice to meet you,” and you respond with your name. It rolls off his tongue nicely when he addresses it, and when you giggle, it’s the most pleasant of sounds to him. Unlike with most humans, who sound discordant and annoying, yours is light, beautiful, ringing like cathedral bells…

…Why is he pulling the cart before the horse here?

The train slows even more. Then comes to a complete stop. You both leave the train side by side, but you appear to be in a rush. He doesn’t mind. He’s probably going to run into again sooner than he wants to…

…And lo and behold, he’s correct to make that assumption as by the next morning, he’s found you at the front lines, securing any remaining victims and keeping them secured in a safe house protected by a veil a weaker sorcerer from the village has managed to cast themselves with the aide of a cursed scroll. That’s what you explain to him. So now he discovers you’re aware of sorcerers and what people like him do. He finds himself impressed by the effort from these villagers—they do seem to be a little more progressive here—but he learns that he’s called to this village because there are no sorcerers here who can compete with grade 1 curses. All of those who have tried, have died in combat, as you explain to him between treating victims.

And these villagers…don’t look opposed to the existence of sorcerers or curses. Or at least, it doesn’t seem so. Not necessarily. They don’t appear alarmed by them…as if this is a normal occurrence.

So much unlike the ones he’s encountered in the past.

He observes you like a deer caught in headlights, dumbfounded, as he scans rows upon rows of wounded villagers on the floor. Some are unconscious, some are barely breathing. Some are cut up terribly, blood seeping through their bandages. The stench of bitter metal, vomit, and shit hits his nose and his lips curl as he grimaces; it’s so foul he can’t breathe, fearing he may vomit himself…

And yet her you are, undeterred by the horrors which have befallen this village, the only one saving them all. As if they’re worth something more than a scrape of metal or a speck of dirt.

It’s awe-inspiring…yet confounding all the same.

He almost wants to scoff at how futile your efforts are, to save such scummy people who may sooner feed you to the wolves than thank you, but he finds himself drawn to how focused you are on healing them. You have no reverse cursed technique, only relying on traditional medications and the few incantations the living weaker sorcerers have learned. Humans, in general, can’t use reverse cursed techniques, so there’s no other option for them. This all likely won’t be enough, he figures, and it’s not like he can contact Shoko because she’s not meant to be fighting.

But maybe he doesn’t need to call Shoko because you’re already making a huge difference by actively trying to make changes. That’s so much unlike the behavior he’s seen in humans before.

What a conundrum he’s faced with now… he must accept that his own feelings aren’t all that pure. His morals aren’t as unshakable as he once believed.

He’s so trapped in his own inner conflicts that he doesn’t realize you approach him to dispose of the blood and vomit soiled gloves protecting your hands and retrieving new ones after disinfecting your hands. While you adjust them, he catches your eye.

“Geto, can we rely on you to exorcise those damned curse spirits? We can’t afford anymore casualties. The population of this village is already next to null, and we’re going to lose all of our villagers at this rate. It’s good you came to help us when you did.”

He nods, expression grim as he makes his way to the exit of the safe house, but not before turning back to announce: “I’ll make sure the barrier technique remains intact as well. You’ll be safe in here.”

“Thank you, Geto—you really are a hero,” you praise him before you run to your nearest victim who’s moaning in agony from a broken arm and a leg that’s been sliced cleanly off. He watches you, immobilized by how intrigued he is of you and the few residents in this village before he takes action to completely eradicate the cause.

The curse spirits are more than even he bargains for, but he manages to eradicate a few that night. Preventing further casualties or more injured villagers.

When he returns, some victims have been nursed back to adequate health in a rapid amount of time. He’s impressed by your efforts. Just watching you as you give them their herbal treatments and clean up their wounds. He does get injured a few times himself while he’s out there exorcising the spirits, and as you stop once you completed cleaning up another victim’s wounds, you signal him to come over.

“Let’s take care of you, Geto. You’re a godsend,” you praise him yet again with so much genuineness and a strong hint of reverence, that your words catch Geto a bit off-guard. He’s staring again, immobilized for a few moments once more before he ambles to your side and settles in the cushion before you. You pick up a fresh damp cloth with some medication to help disinfect the wounds. His body is scratched, slice and diced, and bruised all over, and you shake your head at the condition of his body. Nothing you haven’t seen before, at least he thinks, and yet…

“This might sting,” you warn him while he removes his top, and as you rest the damp cloth on a particularly large gash on his shoulder, he flinches and grunts out loud. “Man, you sorcerers…you really are full of heart. All of you. Sticking your neck outs for people like us who can’t do much for ourselves due to our lack of cursed energy. Many of these villagers can’t even perceive what attacked them.”

Geto hums absently. “It’s no glamorous lifestyle—that much I can assure you.”

You let out a dry laugh at that, while apologizing to him under your breath when you go over some tender parts of his skin from his many wounds and gashes.

“I’m a medicine woman, a healer, yet I’m sure I haven’t seen stuff more gruesome than you must’ve,” you comment, working to stitch the gash up after you clean and disinfect the area. He probably doesn’t know that you’ve noticed how frail he looks, like he’s neglected his own health in favor of his role as a sorcerer.

He manages a wry grin at that. “You have no idea.”

He freezes when he realizes how close your face is to his, and his cheeks burn as he flits his gaze elsewhere, to the door, to the sealed windows, to the moaning and groaning victims. Anything to avoid getting lost in those eyes that are so full of kindness that he doesn’t deserve, not with the sort of thoughts that have plagued his mind for months now since Riko’s death.

Once you’re done stitching up that large gash, you move to clean up the smaller cuts and bruises around his body. You sponge him gently with a fresh cloth, and he’s caught in another daze again as he observes you.

“You’re not scared of me,” he realizes out loud. “Or the curses.”

“Of course not,” you almost snicker at the absurdity of his statement, which has him furrow his brows at your behavior. Are you not aware of how rare sorcerers are in this world? “We have had a few sorcerers in this village who have since perished when these attacks began, protecting villagers who don’t understand what attacked them in the first place. I’ve had sorcerers in my family, but they’re all gone, fighting these curses that are too powerful for them.”

Ah. So she’s got a fair idea of the world for sorcerers, then.

“I’m sorry,” he replies, tone solemn. He knows too well losing those close to him to things like this. You manage a smile.

“We all have to go one day,” you reply with a deep sigh, moving to sponge his lower back. “I just wish I had more time with them. We’ll be together in the next life.”

“You believe in the afterlife?” he mutters, as you move to continue to clean the dirt and grime off of him.

“We have to believe in something to keep going,” you counter with a curt nod. “And for me, it’s to be with my family again. That’s enough for me.”

“I see,” he states. Once you’re done patching him up, you pat his unwounded shoulder.

“There you go! All fixed up…mostly.” You throw him a thumbs up while using a fresh cloth to wipe your neck glistening with sweat down. “You have to give your shoulder some time to heal, obviously.”

“We have a doctor back at the organization I work for who can help me with that,” he replies with a smile. “Thank you. Your kindness is most appreciated.”

“I like to think of it as common decency!” you retort under your breath with a playful wink. “Just doing what’s right.”

“Most people don’t think that way,” he points out, and his eyes catch you rubbing your arms and shivering a bit. It is a bit chilly tonight, he remembers, and the thermostat in this safe house doesn’t work.

Quirking an eyebrow, he picks up a nearby blanket in a basket by your tool kit that appears freshly washed, wrapping it around you in a gentle motion. He catches himself in the act, warring with himself over why he’s suddenly concerned for you. He usually does not allow himself to get too close anymore—especially after Riko.

“You should rest. The barrier won’t break, so nothing will get to you and the other villagers, for now. Don’t you have others working with you?”

“Thank you, Geto. You’ve got an eye for practicality,” you reply with a winning grin in spite of how exhausted you appear to him. His brows furrow—why do you risk your life for these people who don’t matter? “But unfortunately, no. This is my post—there’s only one person and they’re out of commission themselves.”

“Is there anything else I can do to help?” He doesn’t understand why he’s asking, but given there are more curses that aren’t showing themselves at the moment that he still has yet to exorcise…he’s going to be here with you for longer than he initially expected.

“Well, uh, I guess you could, with giving them their nightly medicine,” you murmur through a yawn. Geto looks at you with concern etched across his face, resting his hands on your shoulders.

“Rest,” he insists, frowning. “I can keep watch, and I can give the medicine. It’s this one, right?”

He gestures to the vials by your feet in a basket.

“Yeah,” you answer through another yawn, covering your mouth. “They need to be given the entire vial…taken orally, obviously, and the taste isn’t great so…give them some water if they ask for it. If they’re strong enough to ask for it. Let me watch you take care of one villager before I really pass out.”

“Sure,” he replies, and he does as you instruct him. Feeding a villager the entire vial and offering water, which the villager thanks him for profusely before desperately gulping it down to wash away the taste. As he turns around to seek your approval, you flash him a quick, tired grin before you settle into your chair and attempt to rest.

He’s never seen anyone like you…and all he can do is try his best to return your efforts.

The next morning, he’s waiting for you when you wake up. You complain of a dull throbbing in your head, clutching the side of it as you reorient yourself.

“The rest of the curse spirits have been exorcised,” he explains to you. Before you open your mouth to speak, he continues to clarify for you: “You were knocked out cold for a while. You’ve been neglecting yourself to help the villagers. Everyone is safe now. The problem is gone. My work here is finished, but I wish to stay to help you nurse the villagers back to perfect health.”

It’s against his character, and frankly, he still doesn’t understand why he’s offering to help out when he does have the freedom to return to Jujutsu Tech.

Something about you compels him to stay. His lips press into a grim line as he wars himself over his own aged inner conflict.

Why help those pathetic monkeys who can’t even fend for themselves?

It’s because of you, and he loathes this fact. He loathes that you stain him with your futile ideals. How you can still see humanity as worth protecting when they have taken your sorcerer family members away.

Everything about you—everything about you shatters his conviction about non-sorcerers. This whole conundrum…perhaps he must accept that there shall always be a gray area no matter how much he wishes to adhere to the belief that people like you are the reason he suffers, are the reason his comrades die.

But now he’s come to view you as a comrade. Someone to protect from harm’s way.

“I can’t ask that of you,” you finally answer him after a period of reflection. “You have your duties, and I have mine here, and mine don’t stop at this village. You must have more waiting for you, do you not?”

“You’re not asking this of me. I’m offering you,” he retaliates as he rests his hands on your knees, squeezing them gently. “Let me stay and help. The people I work for already know I’ve been gone longer than anticipated, so what’s another day or so?”

You snort at that. “You sorcerers really stick your neck outs for us, huh, Geto? Alright. I’ll let you help—for one more day. But then you have your own life to return to, alright?”

His heart skips a beat at that. “Of course.”

And he does stay and help as much as he can for that one more day. Once the remaining villagers can more or less leave the safe house, you offer him your place to stay for the night and offer to cook him some things to regain his strength before he leaves.

You prepare him a hearty stew along with other family favorites, splayed out all over a low wooden table.

“It’s the least I can do for you,” you announce after setting up the table and offering him some piping hot jasmine tea to accompany his meal. “Please, eat. I’ll prepare you some more meals for you to take back with you too.”

“That’s kind of you,” he mumbles as his eyes scan the colorful array of food. He’s moved by your kindness—more than he cares to admit to himself as he brings the bowl of stew to his lips, blowing on it gently before taking a sip and humming at how delicious it tastes. Rosemary, basil, and thyme hit his nostrils, and the soft potatoes are so chockful of flavor.

“It’s a gift,” you tease with a little smirk playing on your lips. “I may not be a fancy shmancy sorcerer like you, but I can cook a mean meal that can win anyone’s heart!”

“I believe it,” he admits openly, downing the rest of that stew with a bit of gusto before attacking some of the finger sandwiches you prepared. You grin at him with a little twinkle in your eyes.

“Now you just eat up, relax, and you can stay the night,” you reply, “This is the bare minimum of what I can do for you after you protected this village. This is what’s left of my home. But, ah, it’s not like I get to stay here as long as I want to anymore. I tend to hop from village to village taking care of people.”

“So, you’re a nomadic medicine woman?” he inquires, mid-sipping on the stew.

“Something like that,” you declare as you rest your clenched fists on your hips. “I try to stay within the more remote villages since they don’t have as much access to modern medication. They don’t care enough to upgrade or fund these areas, so us countryfolk are left to fend for ourselves a lot of the time.”

Fucking monkeys, he finds himself thinking, but more about those who don’t want to progress than those who wish to help themselves, like you do, and by extension, clearly your family.

“Eh, it is what it is, I guess!” you go on as you whip around to return to the kitchen. “Now I have a big ole’ mess to clean up so you just sit back and relax, okay?”

“Are you sure you don’t need any—” he starts, but you interject before he can finish.

“—no, finish your meal and then rest up! You’ve helped me more than enough!” you call back to him with a dismissive wave over your shoulder as you disappear into the kitchen.

You don’t get to see it, but he’s smiling more genuinely than he has in the last few months, digging into the rest of the dishes you prepared for him. He might have some disdain toward non-sorcerers as a general rule, but he supposes there are some outliers, like you, who happen to come from a family with sorcerers and non-sorcerers. Someone like you, who can understand the horrors of the world yet still wear a smile through it.

It’s refreshing, indeed.

When he leaves the village the next day, you follow through on your promise and offer him some extra meals for him to take back with him. A little something to remember you by, you joke, to which he responds saying he can’t forget a kind soul like you. You remind him that there is still true good in this world, and you only shrug it off, calling him an idiot in jest.

“I’m just doing what’s right,” you remind him as you wave him goodbye. “Now go on before you miss your train ride back home! You stay strong now, ya hear?”

He doesn’t miss his train back to Jujutsu Tech. And then not too long after he returns, he learns of Haibara’s death through Nanami and Gojo has taken up the mission. He’s then sent on another mission shortly thereafter, in a village not too far away from the village you resided in, and maybe he should have expected to, but he doesn’t at the time this happens.

He finds two helpless twin girls caged by the villagers, threatening to execute them due to their ability to use cursed energy and see spirits. Even with your words echoing in his head—‘I’m just doing what’s right’—‘I think of it as common decency’—he’s scoffing at those notions. A deep scowl on his face as he scrutinizes the village for damning two innocent little girls.

Even now. These monkeys have none. No decency whatsoever. Not like you. They’re not understanding like you. They’re not full of heart like you. You’re not blind like these monkeys are to the true, unshakable reality that they are nothing but scum for putting these girls in danger over something they can’t help or change about themselves. They’re not like you, who understand the horrors sorcerers face trying to protect scum like these…filthy fucking monkeys who refuse to understand something bigger than them exists.

These people are beneath him, beneath you. They don’t deserve mercy.

“Excuse me, why don’t we all step outside for a moment?” he finds himself suggesting, and securing the girls, he goes out somewhere he can’t be witnessed committing the atrocity he’s about to do.

That village burns to the ground at his hand. Cursing them all to Hell like they all fucking deserve, these fucking monkeys who don’t understand the burdens sorcerers bear swearing to protect their weak asses. None of them deserve respite. None of them deserve safety. They have proven to him time and time again that they don’t understand the suffering, the struggling he endures again and again and again at their hands. Unknowingly or not, such monkeys are a plague to society and are best wiped from existence.

Even with your influence, he can’t wholly change his mind, and maybe he’s still plagued by the guilt of not telling you the whole truth of the matter, by that but not by very much. He hopes you’ll understand him one day. That you’ll see him beyond his actions and for his own truth—that these people, these monkeys, don’t deserve to live for the horrors they impose on sorcerers like him.

Smirking in triumph, his eyes scan the area, smirk widening with pleasure from the growing number of dead corpses of non-sorcerer scum before he ventures into the buildings. The stench of rotting corpses fills the air.

As he searches through the village for any survivors, he freezes when he finds you amid the rubble and cobblestone, unconscious, arm splayed over your heart cradling medication and herbal remedies, and he pales upon recognizing your face.

He doesn’t expect you to be here, but he should have considered the possibility before burning it all and calling it quits on the stupid rules the world of jujutsu imposed on him. He’s done playing games with the higher-ups and jujutsu society.

Thinking nothing of it—what you don’t know won’t kill you, and he’ll nurse you back to health—he scoops your body into his arms and tosses you over his shoulder, taking you along with the girls away from that wretched village.

There are no remaining survivors aside from you and the girls, and you are not a local. You don’t count in this equation. You just happen to be in a place where shouldn’t have, but you have your own duties to fulfill, he reminds himself as a disgusted frown graces his features, gaze flitting down at your unconscious, battered form in pity, don’t you?

He returns you to the cult he’s now taken over after he expelled himself from Jujutsu Tech. Like he’s reminded himself, what you don’t know won’t hurt you. He doubts you’ll have the means of discovering what he’s done to that village any time soon, anyway.

You’re slowly recovering from the incident. The guilt does gnaw at his stone cold heart, seeing you being thrown in the crossfire when someone like you doesn’t deserve it. Someone so kind, so genuine. So true to your character. Unshakable.

You may be the only one who almost made him change his mind about stupid, simple humans, but not quite. Not everyone deserves to be saved.

Frankly, not even he deserves to be saved. He’s told Satoru himself: if Satoru’s going to kill him, then he should be the one to kill him. There’s a point to it, at least.

There is a point in keeping you safe, though. He believes in that. Wholeheartedly.

He’s drawing idle patterns along your collarbone as your eyes flutter open, taking in the surroundings that you’re still adjusting to since he brought you here. You are barely conscious through most of your time here, but you’ve already been in the temple for quite some time now.

He calls your name, and you stare at him, a bit out of it. You don’t remember where you are, naturally, since you’ve been constantly drifting in and out of consciousness.

“Geto?” you murmur upon recognizing his face as a dull pounding comes on in your head, clutching it tight as you sit up against the headboard of the bed.

“Hey,” he greets with a little smile, happy to see you’re fully conscious this time. The most you have done since he’s brought you here is drift in and out. You seem more alert this time.

“I had a mission…” you trail off, then your eyes widen, and you gasp upon realization. “Geto, how did you find me? What happened to that village? And where am I?”

“Everything’s fine,” he lies through his teeth through that plastic smile of his. “The problem there has been exorcised. I found you there unconscious, so I took you here to heal you. I’m afraid it might be wise not to leave just yet, because you’ve taken quite a blow. What were you doing there?”

“I told you—I had a job there too!” you counter, “The girls…the ones who are sorcerers from that village, are they alright?”

“Yes,” he assures you as his smile brightens his entire face. Of course, he can rely on you to worry about what truly matters in the long run—the safety of those two innocent girls. “They’re here, safe and sound. You need to focus on your recovery. At least this way, I can repay you for the kindness you’ve given me. Though I doubt there’s much I can do in comparison.”

“You’ve done more than you could possibly imagine for me,” you breathe, reaching to rest your hand on his cheek. He leans into your touch, before resting his hand over yours. “You look…strong. Healthy. Since I saw you.”

“Do I?” he chuckles as he intertwines his fingers with yours; when you don’t seem taken aback by the gesture, he relaxes his body a bit more from its more rigid posture. “I’m glad to hear it. I’ve been feeling much better. And it’s in part because of you, you know. I’ve come to realize that you and I, we’re not so different, right?”

There’s a twist of disgust inside of him as he to compare himself to a human, but he doesn’t consider you so low. Not at all. Far from it. If anything, he may go as far as to declare with full conviction that he’s the one beneath you.

Yet here you are, blessing him with that ‘common decency’ he doesn’t deserve, even still. Because that’s the kind of person you are. People like you are rare finds, and he is sworn to protect rare breeds of human like you who belong to his new world order.

You grin wide, and his breath catches in his throat; how are you so effortlessly beautiful? Yet you aren’t aware of your own. How…perplexing.

“Of course. Like I said, I may not be a fancy pants like you, Mr. Sorcerer, but I can help where applicable—I call myself a medicine woman since I use some tricks my sorcerer mom taught me!”

“Do you feel good enough to get out of bed?” Geto asks, “If you’d like, I’d love to give you the tour of my temple.”

You blink at him owlishly, eyes flitting to every area of the room, awed by how huge and spacious it all is. “Wait…this is yours? I knew you were fancy! I could tell by those pretty bangs of yours, but not this fancy!”

He chuckles, his tone bright and rich, at your remark about his bangs—he usually gets the opposite reaction—and smiles as you take in your new home, if he can help it. You look more than thrilled for him, and he can’t help his heart swelling with pride from earning yet another pat on the back from you. It just reminds him of how good-natured of a person you are.

“So how’s that huge gash on your shoulder? Did that doctor friend of yours help?” you find yourself asking as your gaze lands back on him. He freezes for a moment at the mention of Shoko before grunting.

“Yes, it’s much better now,” he replies, smiling. “Thank you. For everything back there. You really are an extraordinary girl, you know that?”

You rub the back of your head, wincing a bit from the mild throbbing still. “Aw, shucks, it’s like I tell ya, I’m just doing what’s right.”

He hums, and while a bold move, he moves to press a soft kiss to your forehead. You freeze, gazing up at him with those shimmering, timid eyes as you realize what he’s just done.

“What’s that for?” you whisper, eyes flitting down to his lips in spite of yourself. His lips curve into a smirk when he catches that little action of yours and merely shrugs.

“You’ve done a lot for me,” he answers in a smooth tone. “It’s just a little token of appreciation. And I find you’re a wonderful girl.”

Your cheeks burn from the flattery, and you laugh nervously. “That’s awfully nice of you to say, Geto! But I’m nothing special.”

“Don’t be silly,” he insists, brushing his fingers along your cheek. “I won’t rush you, of course. You’re still recovering. But I’d like to know you better.”

Now it’s your breath that catches in your throat when he says that, and you’re smiling even bigger, before wincing again as the dull throbbing in your head makes another wave. “I’d love that more than you know, Geto.”

“Suguru,” he corrects, still smiling. This time it reaches his brilliant sparkling purple eyes. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

You beam at him, your gorgeous eyes twinkling. “Uh-huh, we sure are—owww!”

You clutch your head again, wincing, another wave of throbbing pain...

“You should take it easy,” he reprimands you with a frown. “Treat my home as yours. You can stay for as long as you need.”

“You’re far too kind, Suguru,” you reply, still beaming through the pain. “But hey, I can power through it! Just might need to be knocked out cold for another week or something though…”

Geto can’t help chuckling at that. “I’ll have some of our servants bring you food and medication. You can just relax as long as you need to, and I’m here for you.”

“Mr. Geto!!!!” A loud voice calls before a young blonde girl runs up to him. “We’re hungry!!!! Is she awake and is she okay???”

“Keep your voice down, Nanako,” he chides, before flashing you an apologetic smile. “She’s fine, but you need to use your inside voice around her.”

“Inside voice,” Nanako replies, lowering her tone to a low whisper. “Okay! But we’re huuuuuungry! Does she want to join us for lunch?”

“It’s noon?” you groan at him with an exasperated look. He stares back at you, apologetic.

“Well, would you like to? None of us would be opposed to lunch in bed,” he teases.

Nanako pumps her fists in the air.

“Yeah!!! And we can play Pokemon!”

“Nanako,” he chides again. “Inside voice! And she’ll need her space.”

You grin at Nanako’s antics, not minding in the slightest. “I’m really glad the twins are alright. Those people treated them so harshly.”

“They are,” he promises, then turns back to Nanako while scratching her head affectionately. “Order some food and bring Mimiko here. We’ll have lunch together, alright?”

Nanako nods and runs off.

“If I wasn’t feeling like shit, I’d cook for you again,” you offer, “It clearly looks like I’ll be out of commission for a bit longer than I want to, but if it means I get to spend more time with you, then I’m not complainin’!”

“There’s no need for that,” he replies, flattered by your comment as his heart swells with more pride. Your approval is all he cares about right now—because you don’t yet know the truth of the situation you have found yourself in; the guilt from lying to you is still weighing heavy on his heart. But you understand the real priorities—those humans are scum, which reassures him to a certain extent. “We’re happy with the pleasure of your company.”

“Man, stop buttering me up!” you whack him on the chest playfully. “I’m just little old me, not a big shot like you, Suguru.”

“Nonsense,” he retorts, “You’re plenty special.”

“And you’re still smooth talking!” you huff, before spluttering with laughter. “But alright! I’m seriously down for lots of rest and lots of food!”

“I’ll let Nanako know what to order for you. What would you like?”

You list out your typical go-tos, and he takes it all into account. He’s putting in his very best efforts to bring you the utmost comfort, and you don’t have to tell him you’re grateful for his hospitality. It’s safe to say he’s obviously not the type to offer something like this so openly.

Once you fully recover, he lets you go so you can fulfill your duties—much to his own reluctance. He’s become too attached to you—far more than he wants to admit to himself or to you.

Keeping you from doing what you believe is right is selfish of him, though he fears that you may not cross paths with him for a while.

“Aw, don’t fret, Suguru! I can come back, you know!” you assure him with an actual pat on his back.

“I’d love for you to,” Geto replies, his stare bordering on longing and tender. But of course, you don’t take it that way. You’re already turning your back, waving over your shoulder. “Take care.”

It’s at that moment he realizes he should have told you more, that he should have told you what happened, but he doesn’t want you to be afraid of him.

You do follow through on your promise, like you always do. Your character always proves to be unshakable. You’re a woman of your word, and he takes great pleasure in the fact.

For the last four or so years, you have returned in between your duties to spend time with him and the twins, who are more than thrilled to have you spend more time with them. They remember your kindness even before he burned it all to the ground.

Though you still have yet to learn the truth of what happened, he wants to maintain the illusion that everything’s still fine between you.

You make Geto more alive than he’s had since that dreaded day. Since he’s made that decision to stray from the conservative ways of jujutsu society. Full of fools who don’t understand the burdens they’ve forced upon people like him.

He strives for progress; he strives for harmony; he strives for peace. The only way to get that peace is to eliminate the cause of everyone’s suffering.

Geto just knows he’s clinging onto something from you he knows won’t last, but damn it, he can’t change what his heart wants. And it’s you. By his side. Through Hell or high water. There’s a point in protecting you, even if you aren’t traditionally what he accepts. He can’t bring himself to allow a good person like you die—there’s already so few of you out there.

He does wonder if you’ve caught onto the subtle changes in him. Well, it’s not too subtle to those close to him, or who have once been close to him—to them, it’s like he’s made a complete 180—but he wishes for things to reman more or less the same with you. You still view him through rose-colored lenses, and he would hate to shatter your perspective with the crushing reality that he’s not the hero you praise him to be, that he’s a monster.

Even if he kills that village for the safety of those girls, it doesn’t change that he doesn’t regret what he did, that he prefers that non-sorcerers be evicted from society…permanently.

“Are you going to keep staring into space, Suguru? Because those veggies ain’t gonna chop themselves,” you call out to him as you read along in your family recipe book while working with multiple pans and pots. Your culinary genius never fails to impress him, but that doesn’t mean you don’t appreciate a helping hand every now and then and he’s offered to numerous times.

He pulls himself out of his thoughts, picking up the large, sharpened premium chef’s knife and deftly chops the cucumbers, dices the onions, shallots, and bell peppers…

“You guys are so lucky I don’t charge you for all of this cookin’ I do for your conferences,” you snort, switching off some areas of the stove once those dishes are complete. “So how many members are we even feeding? This could feed entire villages, you know!”

“We have accumulated a staggering number of devotees and members,” Geto chuckles as he tosses the variety of veggies into a large ceramic bowl before handing it to you. He tries to ignore the softness of your skin as your fingers brush against his. He can’t lose sight of the reality—he’s a liar, and he has yet to come clean about his actions. He can’t entertain his feelings right now.

Maybe he shouldn’t bring it up while you’re in an environment with knives present.

“I really do appreciate everything you do here. The girls have really come to love you. Even some other members of the family have praised you, and that’s a rare thing, given how guarded all of them are,” Geto tells you with a winning smile on his face.

He doesn’t appear as worn and torn as he had all those years ago—well, four years is not that long but it’s enough to drastically change a person—and he can tell you’ve noticed. He may have found comfort in troubling ideals, but there’s a part of him that believes that you still see goodness in him, that he’s striving for the greater good, ultimately.

“Here you go again buttering me up like I’m about to these veggies,” you snicker as you toss them into the pot before twisting around to face him. “I think we’re all good to go here. Thanks for your help, Suguru! These dishes should be done right on time.”

Geto flashes you a smile before taking one of your free hands into his, kissing gently along your knuckles.

“Thank you,” he praises, violet eyes flitting upward to meet yours. “You have no idea how grateful we are for you.”

You roll your eyes as you retract your hand. “Alright, you. Enough of that. Leave me to the kitchen now. Actually, wait—!” you start while scooping a bit of stew from a large ceramic pot with a ladle, before presenting the piping hot sample to his lips. “—Taste test?”

You tip the ladle into his mouth, and he hums, smacking his lips as he judges the flavors. He then makes a pleased sound, sipping the rest of the sample with gusto, a little bit of the stew spraying on your hand.

Ah. An open opportunity. He lowers his lips to the area of your hand that still had some leftover stew, pressing his lips to the inflicted area and lightly slurping the leftovers up before pulling away with a little grin.

You make a mock displeased face before wiping your hand clean. “Ya nasty. Okay, now you can leave me to my devices.”

He does just that—frankly because he doesn’t want to test your patience while you’re in the cooking zone—and retires to the common area where Nanako and Mimiko are playing some dumb mobile game that’s completely taken up their free time between training sessions. Geto isn’t going to be one to rob them of their youth like those villagers were going to, so he tries his best not to be too strict with his rules about particularly electronics.

Especially considering Nanako’s cursed technique…

The meeting runs smoothly. You do stay behind to greet some of the members of the family you have met in the past. Even Miguel seems pleased to see you, which is a rarity for him, but it’s likely because they both share a love for the culinary arts. Regardless of the reasons, Geto is just happy to see you finding a place here—a home away from your home, where you had everything from you taken away just like he did.

Once the meeting concludes, Geto insists you stay over for a few nights. You at first try to decline, reminding him that you can’t exactly leave people in the more rural areas of Japan unattended, but he swears to make it worth your while.

An offer you can’t refuse, mainly because you’ve grown attached to him too.

“I’m afraid I haven’t been fully honest with you,” he brings up one evening, as you’re assisting him with some household work in his temple. You offer to in spite of the numerous times he refuses. You just like to be of service where you can. “About what happened in that village.”

“Why bring that up now? It’s been years,” you answer as you wipe off a bead of sweat from your brow with the back of your wrist.

“Because what I’m going to tell you might change everything between us. I’ve been selfish.”

“Suguru, you’re scaring me,” you remark, “What happened out there? I was out cold for most of it.”

“I know,” he replies, expression grim as he wipes his hands with a cloth. “I think it’s best if you take a seat for this.”

He leads you to the common area and sits you down on one of the couches there. He begins telling you that the villagers aren’t as open to the existence of sorcerers as your village was, that they threatened to execute the girls believing that they were the cause of their misfortune. He braces himself for the icy cold sting of rejection as he admits that because of that, he massacred the entire village and took you, and the girls, with him out of there to safety.

But instead of a backhanded slap across the face, or a lot of shouting or yelling, he meets your gaze to find your expression blank. Like you’re grappling with everything he’s just spilled to you—something he’s kept from you for all these years because he’s selfish and he can’t help that side to himself.

“I don’t blame you if this means you don’t want to see me again. I’ve done terrible things, and I will continue to do terrible things…” Geto can’t bear to look at your blank expression anymore and he flits his gaze elsewhere, resting his hands on your knees. “Sometimes we must do the things we mustn’t…for the greater good. For the protection of those who deserve protection. F….for those who truly matter in this world. You deserve protection. The girls deserve protection. But that village…they’re nothing but scum better off erased. I don’t regret a single thing I’ve done.”

Deciding it best to face the music, he meets your eyes again. Blank. Expressionless. Void.

Like him.

“But I don’t regret meeting you,” he goes on, eyes softening as he feels his heart drop to his stomach when you’re unresponsive, likely from shock. He squeezes your knees gently. “I don’t regret saving you, protecting you. I know I should have told you the truth sooner, but I didn’t want things between us to change.” He rests his head on your lap, voice strained. “I didn’t want to lose what we had. I didn’t want to lose you.”

The silence hangs in the air between them, constricting him like invisible chains around his neck and torso. He buries his face into his lap, awaiting your ultimate judgment—because he’s accepted a long time ago that he is indeed beneath someone as pure and as kind as you are. He’s not once deserved your kindness or this ‘common decency’ you so often preached because that’s the kind of person you are. He’s admired you for your character. He hasn’t stopped admiring you for your character.

His lips begin to quiver, and he feels a wetness down his cheeks, and, stunned, he raises his hand to find they’ve been stained with tears. You haven’t said a word since he confessed his sins. He doesn’t regret those sins.

“They were people too,” you mumble, digging your fingers into the fabric of your pants. “You…you really killed them? All of them? I-I know I’ve heard reports of a natural disaster taking the village, but all this time…that was to cover up your crime?”

“Yes,” he confirms, bloodshot eyes meeting your dead ones. “As you know, the existence of sorcerers is rare, and thus when such occurrences happen, and they do—perhaps not to such a degree like my own crimes—they have to cover it up to the general public. So they declared the village was overtaken by an earthquake. But the reality is I cursed them all to death.”

“You…” You hug your knees to your chest, shivering. “You—you…why?”

“Not everyone is like you. Not everyone is understanding and kind like you. They were going to kill two innocent girls!” He wants you to understand that particular detail—if he plays a bit more on your empathetic nature, does that mean he has a shot at keeping you in spite of the sins he’s committed? “You do understand where I’m coming from, don’t you? Those villagers you tried to protect in your village, your family died protecting them!”

“Yes,” you breathe, remembering your lost loved ones, your eyes now shimmering from sadness at their memories. “They were heroes. They did what they believed was right.”

“And I did what I believed was right,” he insists, desperation evident in his tone as he squeezes your knees too tight, to the point his veins begin to pop. “I saved you and the girls from those wretched, vile people.”

“You did save us,” you mumble, “That’s true. But the villagers, they didn’t all deserve to die…”

“I know you must be conflicted, but please understand where I’m coming from,” he bites back a whimper. “I don’t want to lose you. You’ve become dear to me and to the girls.”

“Suguru…” you trail off, but then you’re taken aback as his hands move up to cup your cheeks, wiping away the tears pricking at the corners of your stunning eyes.

“A man does what he mustn’t to protect those who matter to him most,” he whispers as he draws his face closer to yours, until his lips are barely against yours. “For her. To be worthy of her. Do you believe me?”

“I want to,” you whisper back, your eyes dropping to his lips then back to meet his eyes. Your breath hitches as you force down a sob. “I want to, but this is—Suguru, this is…a lot…”

“Then try to believe me. Try to trust me. That’s all I ask of you. I know I don’t deserve it,” he says, his lips teasing yours, hovering so close yet not quite meeting. His warm breath fans over your lips.

“But I am nothing without you,” he finishes, his words coming out in a low, raw whisper—he sounds so jaded from the horrors he’s witnessed all of his life. His eyes unravels so much to you, a man who has known too much violence and too much tragedy, and in this moment, a need for you to accept him as he is—hero or not, criminal or not.

Finally, his lips meet yours. His softness takes you aback, no urgency in the kiss just yet. His moves move languidly against your own, coaxing soft sounds out of you. He can tell you’re hesitating, frozen by the action, but his persistence encourages you; he’s frightened, that this is the only chance he might ever have with you. You shyly return the kiss, uncertain. You’re breathless when he pulls back, his entire expression softening.

“Wh-what was that for?” you murmur, your fingers brushing absently over your lips, still tingling from the kiss.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he confesses, his voice lowering an octave as he reaches out, brushing his fingers through your bangs. “I love you.”

“Suguru, I…” you stammer, your body still trembling, a war of unfamiliar emotions rushing through your mind.

“Shh,” he whispers, drawing his lips closer to yours once more. “There’s so much I want to try with you. Can you try to trust me?”

You gulp, averting your gaze as your heart races. You find it difficult to breathe. “I…”

“Do speak up,” he purrs, as a teasing smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

“I don’t know if I can wait.” The playful edge to his tone catches him off-guard, but he frames his words to make it seem like you don’t have a real choice on the matter. Trust is no longer something you can withhold from him, even if you want to, and maybe that’s selfish of him, but he’s come to accept that he’s no virtuous hero a long time ago.

“O-okay,” you squeak, the sound of your (reluctant) submission charges something within him. An all too eager Geto scoops you up effortlessly into his arms, carrying you princess style as his lips trail kisses all over your face and forehead. The tension in his body melts off of him as he whisks you away to his bedroom.

“I’ll prove to you that I’m still the man you know,” he murmurs into your skin as he rests you on the feathery mattress. “I’m not a hero, I’m afraid,” he adds softly, speaking to himself more than to you. “No, not a hero…I’m far too selfish for that.”

He rests a hand on your cheek, a calloused thumb brushing along your soft skin with a reverence that catches you off-guard. He leans in, his hovering over yours, your breaths mixing.

“But I can still be the man for you,” he murmurs between heated kisses along your jaw. “The man you deserve.” His voice dips in a rawer way.

“Suguru…” Your hands instinctively reach up to grip his shoulders.

“I’ve…never done this before…” you confess, your voice barely a whisper, laden with nerves.

He pauses, a low hum vibrating in his throat as he kisses you once more, dragging his lips along the edge of your mouth before pulling back with a low, fervent growl. The intensity in his gaze is far too much.

“Then I’ll be gentle, my dear,” he vows, his voice a low rasp as he presses his forehead against yours. I’m yours to use as much as you like.”

He moves to unbutton your top, revealing your delicious figure. There’s a tremble in his hands as he explores your body. He traces the swells of your breasts before pulling them out from your bra, grinding his teeth against a nipple before sucking it into his mouth with a loud slurp.

You gasp, another flush blooming across your features. “Wait, Suguru—!”

He ignores you as he suckles a bit on the nipple, eyebrows furrowing as some milk splatters on his tongue. He hums at the exquisite taste before jis bewildered eyes meet yours, removing your nipple from his mouth with a pop to speak.

“How are you lactating?” he asks, not doing much to hide how giddy he is from this new discovery. He definitely plans on taking advantage of this for more than one occasion.

“Um…partially diet and uh…herbal medicine stuff…” you flush, covering your face from embarrassment. “S-some new mothers face difficulties with nursing so some remedies I created help with that…and I have to test them on myself, so…”

“I see,” he groans as he laves his tongue around your nipple, flicking off leftover droplets of milk. “Fascinating.”

He closes his mouth over your perky nipple and suctions hard, groaning at the taste. More flavorful than any meal you have ever cooked for him, and he can’t get enough of the pitchy moans you’re working so hard to bite down.

One of his hands fondles your unattended breasts, and he coos at how soft your mounds are, flicking his finger over your nipple as he greedily drinks from the other one.

“Fuck,” he moans into your skin. “Don’t hold back on those beautiful noises. You should enjoy it.”

“Suguru…it’s just…embarrassing…” you admit through a pitched voice. He laughs a bit at that, not to mock you (shockingly), but because he wants to ravish you.

He parts the nipple he assaulted with a kiss before switching, suckling on one nipple while a finger toys with the opposite. He prays that he will be the only one who gets to have you like this, and he intends to see that through. He doesn’t like the idea of you being with anyone else. The thought makes his blood burble beneath his skin.

He shifts gears, flipping you over so that now you’re on top of him. You yelp from shock, but it’s muffled as his lips plunge against yours, his tongue invading your mouth and gliding along the edges of your teeth. His hands snake down your waist and hips, stopping at the hem of your pants where he tucks his fingers inside and pulls them off along with your panties (which he definitely plans to keep to himself).

He purrs your name, and you let out a low whimper.

“I meant what I said before,” he murmurs against your lips before pulling away, sliding you up until your cunt is hovering over his face. “I’m yours to use.”

“I-I don’t know what to, um, exactly do…Suguru…” Your face is beet red.

He chuckles at that, sliding his tongue up your folds. “In that case, I’ll guide you. Worry not.”

He shoves your cunt into his tongue, twisting it between your folds and a shaky gasp leaves your lips. He digs his fingers into your ass cheeks, close to your crack as his tongue laves over your sensitive skin, your own slick already building from the slightest treatment. He hums, tongue flicking over your clit as his eyes never leave yours, admiring your flushed face, your rosy, parted lips as more breathy moans escape them.

From his focal point, you truly are a goddess, a true beauty—further proof that he’s truly beneath you in every conceivable way.

“Suguru…” Oh, his name rolling off your lips sounds so good, so sweet.

“Don’t be shy,” he purrs, his breath fanning over your folds before plunging the wet muscle into your fluttering entrance, making you choke on another gasp as you grasp for something—you reach for the top of the headboard to maintain a semblance of balance as his tongue fucks repeatedly into your spongy walls.

His grip on your ass cheeks tighten as his tongue ravishes you, and he growls when he feels your gummy walls clenching around him. You’re coming, and you throw your head back as you do, shouting as you’re unfamiliar with the sensation.

“Thank you for blessing me with such a beautiful sight,” he praises, tone full of reverence as he pinches one of your ass cheeks, making you squeak again. “My mouth isn’t the only thing free for your use, my love.”

He guides you back down to his lap, where his growing erection through his robe is evident. He grinds up into your pussy, still drenched from your arousal. “My cock, my fingers, anything. They’re all yours.”

He grabs one of your hands and rests it on his clothed erection. He groans your name. “Do you feel what you do to me? What more can I do to show you—that I am the man for you?”

“I…I don’t know,” you admit, tone wistful. “Suguru, I told you. I’ve…never done this before.”

He adjusts your positions, taking a moment to completely disrobe and reveal his bare body to you. He moves to cup your face, brushing his thumb along your lips.

“I’ll make this worth it for you,” he purrs, as he grinds the tip of his cock against your pussy. You bite back a moan in spite of yourself. “Can you trust me? I understand it’s too much to ask—”

“—Yes,” you murmur, and as he presses a kiss to your lips, he pushes the tip of his cock inside, experimentally. Sensing any discomfort from you before he rests his back against the headboard, guiding you up and down his girthy cock. His lips trail down your jaw and neck, growling into your skin as he keeps a gentle, but far from slow pace. Trying to get you used to the sensation, to the feeling of being filled to the hilt by his impressive size. He doesn’t want to hurt you. His fingers sink into your waist, as he purrs your name over and over.

“I’m yours,” he vows as his intense gaze never leaves yours. “I’m yours, my love. That much is true.”

He shouts as he comes, and you soon follow after and he’s moaning throughout as your walls clench around his girth. You slowly come down from the hot flash in ragged breaths, yours syncing with his.

“I’m yours,” he repeats, nuzzling his nose against yours. You glance down at him, chest still heaving as you catch your breath.

“I know,” you say, as his hands intertwine with yours. “I’m yours too.”

#geto x you #suguru geto x you #geto x reader #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x y/n #geto x y/n #geto smut #suguru geto smut #erixtales

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gardenofnoah · 1 year ago

Text

turn me like a beast / hold you to the floor

tags: nanami kento x reader, princess!reader, violence, injuries (minor), non-graphic descriptions of hunting, medium burn, sort of enemies to lovers but mostly scared strangers to unfortunate lovers, the fall of a dynasty, character death (sorry), reincarnation, bittersweet ending. mdni.

wc: 6.5k ish

notes: for @medusashima’s collab—indulging myself (and y’all) in my take on one of my favorite stories. i hope you like it 💘 this is based on the tale of the two fossils found wrapped up in each other in an unlikely pairing (which is made even better by the fact that it is not fiction and it happened!! love is real nerd!!). there’s a really phenomenal webtoon called burrow (by saige9) that makes me cry and that y’all should read immediately. anyway, enjoy. love u

summary: the world is at its end, and an unlikely pair finds solace in each other. to love is an animal thing.

it shocks you, how gentle a tug it takes to unravel everything that you were. only a thing between two others—before: a princess on a hill, the unraveling, and who you’ll be after.

your feet stomp clumsily over dirt and jagged rock—softened soles split open easily with each stride. but, ever your grandmother's frightened little rabbit, not even that searing pain is enough to thwart you in your descent down the hill—away from what is surely certain death. nothing but the animal need to survive pushing you forward—to get to whatever comes next.

it happened too fast—the only way a dynasty can fall to those privileged enough not to notice the slow decline of the society around them until it's too late. your family spoke of pockets of uprisings as if they were fictitious and theoretical—some grandiose, far away prediction of the old crone that haunted the village below your compound, and certainly not the men concealed by shade of trees that had been pruned by your family for centuries, salivating but patient for the perfect moment to strike.

and then they were dead. all of them but you.

a childhood of exploring the grounds of your family home proves useful in knowing without much thought which paths lead farthest from the carnage at your back, but your fright makes you uncoordinated—mechanical in your stride. the price to stop for even a second is far too high, and the hounds that howl after you in the dark serve as a constant reminder of the consequence of hesitation. so, bruised and bleeding, you keep on.

you run until your lungs threaten to collapse and then on farther. your feet carry you through unfamiliar wood, but in your rush, your brain rationalizes that the repercussions of trespassing cannot be much worse than what's behind you. and that seems to be the truth—right up until the real consequence drops out of the tree above you and pins you to the earth below, a blade to your throat.

gritted teeth snap too close to your face. you hear a deep voice—maybe a deeper threat, something to raise the hair on the back of your neck if you could only focus on the words. the world spins and your mind struggles to make sense of the sudden stop in motion, but something far more animal inside you decides that it's had enough. against any remaining survival instinct, you feel all tension bleed from your body—the stranger's face comes into clearer view right as you go limp underneath him. resignation wins out—your limbs wouldn't move if you pleaded with them to.

blond eyebrows meet hairline as your attacker is caught off guard by your forfeiture. "what are you—"

once distant howls growing nearer cut him off. he looks over his shoulder, eyes narrowed at something he cannot yet see. you watch from outside yourself as he turns back toward you. dark eyes meet your own and you see the decision make itself—in one instant you are free of his bodyweight, and in the next you are weightless as he hauls you over his shoulder.

he makes it no more than 10 feet down the path before the last bit of adrenaline leaves you and is replaced by a sudden, blinding pain with no identifiable source. you feel it everywhere—all of the seemingly inconsequential injuries catching up with you now that you've stopped moving. the receding tree line is the last thing you see before the world goes dark.

the warmth that surrounds you is decadent. you curl into it, reluctant to break the spell of sleep. but then you remember.

you shoot upright, sending at least three layers of blankets rolling off of you. you pinch the fabric of the top one between your fingers—alpaca. not native, but farmed here over the last century or so. you know (and had been told) that it was unbecoming of a princess to hold so much commonplace knowledge. but then again, status matters little now, and this blanket is soft. you're grateful to know the beast it was made from.

it hurts, but you coax your head into swiveling around to survey your surroundings, surprised when you find that it's very clearly someone's home. it's old—some of the wooden boards that line the walls have started to bow against the nails that drove them into the framework of the house, and daylight peaks through the cracks. the bed you rest in can barely be called that—an old futon cushion atop bundles of straw. but it's warm, and you slept. someone has been taking care of you. the thought is sobering; the anxiety that comes with it is enough to hold you to the bed for the foreseeable future.

but your stomach growls, and the bodily betrayal forces you to move. you do it slowly, kicking both feet out from under the blankets. to see them bandaged is startlingly unexpected.

your memories until now are fuzzy at best, but the last thing you distinctly recall is the feeling of sharpened metal biting into your skin. there are few ways you can fathom connecting the dots from that moment to this—swaddled in blankets with your wounds tended to. it leaves you on edge.

on two feet, you sway a bit—the hunger feeds the vertigo that spins the surroundings in your peripheral. one hand braced on the bed now behind you, you blink until things settle. you take a step forward, and the pain is shocking—your feet are clearly more injured than they'd felt at the time, but there is only one way out of this room. you press on.

the heavy wooden door opens into a one room cottage. it's old, and not in the well-loved and well-lived way—the dilapidated structure and lack of any real homely qualities tells you immediately that it's current inhabitant is more of a recent opportunist than a longtime homemaker. that distinction mattered little now, though, and you suppose you should be grateful for your stranger's resourcefulness.

you creep further into the room without a sound until you find yourself in the middle of it. crouched and defensive, until the realization hits you—you see all four walls and are perplexed to find that you are completely alone.

the room is little more than a crooked wooden table and a futon pad on the floor. there are remnants of a fireplace in the center of the room—mortar and brick crumbling up wooden slats toward the roof, but still useful with still-burning embers inside. truly, it's more primitive than livable—there are weapons and tools strung up along the wooden panels of the walls, and animal hides hang in any space between metal and wood. but it's warm, and it's a reminder of what is at stake. what should spur anxiety brings only confusion—when cost of survival is so high, why add another body to the burden?

you forget yourself until the heavy fall of footsteps outside the door reignites your adrenaline. you watch, wide eyed and frozen, as the door picks a fight with whoever is on the other side of it. a weight smacks solidly into it once, twice, and a third time before it opens with a heavy groan. in the daylight, your captor is revealed to you.

hard eyes widen slightly at the sight of you, and then narrow in suspicion. you're still as he takes in all of you, and suddenly very aware of the nightgown you escaped your home in, still hanging off your body. you fight the urge to withdraw into yourself—you know it’s not the time to cower.

he eyes you for a moment more, and then drops a heavy pack on the floor next to him, and busies himself with unloading. you watch as he pulls out tools that look unfamiliar to you—though you suppose any tool would. it's not as if you or your family ever had a need for them.

you watch him work and are surprised to find that he's...handsome. jaw set at a hard angle with scars that wrap around the slope of one side, he's rugged in a way you'd never been taught to find appealing. he is unlike the men that sought after your hand with promises of riches and comfortable living. he is unlike anyone you've seen before, truthfully.

"um—"

"is there something you need?"

his coldness stuns you for a moment. you're not sure what you were expecting—you'd no real reason to anticipate any kindness from the man, but the care by which your feet were wrapped had led your mind in that foolish direction anyway.

you fight the urge to draw your limbs into yourself like a startled turtle. "oh—i just. wanted to thank you, i suppose. for helping me."

he looks up from his sorting to meet your eyes, and the disdain in them feels like a physical wound. he drops the tool in his hand with a sharp thud against the floor, and it makes you jump.

"once you've healed, you will leave."

you exhale sharply. it makes sense, of course—it is no small ask of him to allow you to stay even until you're healed. even so, the reality of the world that awaits you carries a weight to it—it lurks around the periphery of the tiny cabin, waiting for you to poke your head out.

then comes the loss—the blood that still stains your fingertips and the hem of your nightgown. you bow your head—out of shame or grief, you're not sure—and turn on your heel, right back into the room you came from. you shut the door behind you quietly, and you don't make it to the bed. you sink to your haunches and gravity pins you there, head in hands as your mind reintroduces you to each of the ghosts that now have a tight grip on both your ankles.

it's dark when you emerge, once again driven by hunger or thirst, or some other base need to stay alive despite every glaring sign not to.

you commit yourself to stealth—to staying out of your stranger's way, as much as you can before you take your leave. the dark of the cabin hides you in your trek out of your hiding place—unfortunately, it also hides the solid object on the floor, laid directly in front of your door. your foot catches it and it clangs, the metallic echo ringing in your ears.

you curse under your breath, bending down to feel around in the blackness for whatever you hit. you startle when your fingers hit something unexpectedly soft. you squint, and suck in a breath when you realize what you're holding—a piece of bread. rather, half of a loaf, with a cut of meat nearby, on the metal plate that you’d kicked. you blink, like if you do it enough, the mirage will dissipate and leave only dark wood behind. but it doesn't—the bread gives some as your fingers squeeze around it as if to test it's trustworthiness. you decide to stop looking the gift horse in its mouth, and recede back the dark of your room, food in hand.

oddly enough, it becomes a regular occurrence. you grow accustomed to expecting a plate of food by your door every night—a seemingly ironic luxury, given your reality now. you hardly see your stranger—you've no idea when he has the opportunity to leave food by your door unnoticed, give his penchant for absence. puzzling still is that the food you're given varies, as if he intends for you to have a fully balanced diet in the middle of a societal collapse.

he doesn’t stop at the food, either—after a few nights spent in your room, he makes his first real appearance in the daylight. a knock at your door rouses you from what’s become a habit of mid-afternoon naps, in lieu of staring at the splintered walls of what was quickly beginning to feel like a cage instead of a place of healing. you pull the door open to find your stranger towering over you—leering down at you with the same discontent he had before. only now, he holds something in his hands, and extends them to you.

“there’s a stream at the edge of the boundary.”

he thrusts what’s in his hands to yours, and you realize that it’s clothing—not in the best shape, but certainly better than the blood-crusted nightgown you still wear. he says no more, and for once you’re grateful for his curt demeanor. he turns on his heel and stalks out of the cabin, back to whatever the outside world has to offer him. after a moment, you follow his path, for the first time since you’d arrived.

it stuns you for a moment, how sinister the land looked in the dark, and how different it looks now. the sun shines hot down on the wheatgrass that sways gently in the breeze. it picks up a lock of your hair and you feel lighter with it.

you walk where you assume you should—down a thinly-worn path between the grass. you find it eventually: a small stream, just wide and deep enough for you to bathe in if you crouch. you turn your head to each side, squinting in your search for prying eyes—you find no one, but it’s still wholly uncomfortable to undress in the open like this.

your reservations leave you the minute you step into the water. warmed by the sun with a sweeping current, you let out a guttural moan that would’ve certainly earned you a chastising from your grandmother for its crudeness. you can’t help it—the caked on dirt and grime dissolves under your fingers and leaves you feeling better than you ever have. there is a slight sting in the soles of your feet—that it is slight is surprising to you, and a harrowing reminder of the clock that continues to tick out of your favor.

days bleed into weeks. your feet heal earlier than you expect them too, and the guilt you carry is worse than the wound. you know you’ve reached the end of your stay, but you can’t get yourself to leave. not when your stranger still insists on taking care of you. the anticipation is sickening—instead of sitting and waiting to be shooed away, you decide to earn your stay. hard work for someone who’d never worked a day, but the determination proves stronger than the fatigue.

you clean. it’s the only thing you can think to do, and truthfully, it’s necessary. you haul water in old containers on your shoulder from the stream, and you wash the dust away until the floors shine and the windows are clear again. you do this everyday—finding something to clean and fixating on it until the sun reaches the other side of the horizon. today is no different—you set your sights on the ash in the fireplace, using a metal pan to scoop it into a stray tarp to carry outside when you’re done.

you’re almost finished when you hear the now familiar sound of boots scraping the stone outside. you tense, but you don’t stop, pulling another pile of stale smelling soot onto the tarp as your stranger opens the door. you hear him stop behind you, but you don’t turn.

“what are you doing?” the tone is not as harsh as you’re used to—a little fatigued, mostly inquisitive.

“cleaning,” you say softly, pulling up at each corner of the canvas and watching the ash collide into neat little heaps in the center, “i’m almost done—i’ll be out of your way.”

you get to your feet, discard in hand, and turn to look at him. his strong brow furrows as he looks at you, like there’s something about what he sees that he can’t understand. against your best interest, your curiosity gets the better of you.

“i’m sorry, it’s just—i never learned your name.”

the look he levels you with makes you wish you’d never asked. his expression gives away nothing, but it tells you enough.

“how are your feet?”

your stomach drops—all of your attempts at earning your place for naught after all. but you stand in front of him now—to lie to him would be foolish at best.

you can barely raise your voice above a whisper. “healed.”

he studies you for a moment more, and it’s too much for you. your eyes fall to a crack in the floor, and distantly you wish you’d shrink down to slip inside of it, never to be seen again.

“tomorrow i will show you how to trap.” he gruffs, finality lacing his tone. your eyes snap to his but he’s already turning, half way out the door before he stops. he turns his head, eyeing you over his shoulder.

“kento,” he mutters, barely audible and strange meeting your ears, “my name is kento.”

and then he’s gone again—leaving you standing there with a hand full of dirt and no way to discern your left from right as your world tilts on its axis, if only slightly—but noticeable and disruptive all the same.

you don’t sleep well that night—startled out of a twilight sleep in what appears to be the dark hours of the morning by the rapping of knuckles on your door. kento nods to you in a greeting of his own, turning swiftly on his heel and heading toward the front door. you follow him dutifully, pulling over your shoulders the blanket you’d snagged before you left the warmth of your bed for the chill of the morning. the grass is cool and dewey under your bare feet, and it’s a quiet luxury you find yourself reveling in as you pad along behind him. you can hardly see him in the dark and yet you keep up, somehow—you know there’s too much at stake to lag behind.

true to his word, he teaches you how to trap. solely by doing—few words are exchanged between you as he trudges into the stream and hauls out a weaved basket attached to a rope, fastened to the shoreline by a stray branch. the light that creeps over the horizon begins to illuminate his work—silvery tails gleam as they flick back and forth from inside the cage. you know better than to be sad, but you feel it anyway. it’s silly to feel a kinship with the creatures, not even sentient enough to know that there is no escape for them—but you know, and the weight of that is a tangible thing.

he teaches you how to prepare the fish, then—and you get through it, if not only through sheer determination to not throw up in front of kento. the sun rises and illuminates other opportunities to learn—he teaches you about the native plants, only in simple directions of pointing to a patch of green with an accompanied “don’t touch”, or “fine to eat”. it’d feel patronizing if it wasn’t all so overwhelming—he had a knowledge of things you’d never dreamed of before. all you can feel is excitement that he’s willing to share it with you.

as the sun begins to set, he brings you to the garden—a small patch of land, seemingly unassuming until you step inside. there are fruiting plants everywhere you look—fat, red tomatoes and vining, prickly cucumbers, complete with rows of leafy greens and cabbages. you can’t begin to imagine how he’d managed to grow all of this by himself. his nightly food gifts start to make more sense.

you work side by side, pulling ripe crop from each plant and placing them into a metal canister—usually used for mechanical purposes, but at the end of the world, you find many uses for what you have. you feel emboldened somehow with your hands in the dirt next to his, and the words leave you before you have a moment to reconsider; you tell him of where you’d come from, and of your descent down the hill. you think of the kin you’d left behind, and you feel detached as you tell him of the loss—an observation if nothing else, as if you’d sat on a shoreline and watched the tide flood in.

he doesn’t react—not to your noble status, and not to the death—he’s quiet as he moves on to each plant, only the pattering sound of what he harvests hitting the tin bottom of his canister. you don’t mind—there’s no reaction you’d expect or find helpful, and for some reason, his presence is enough. you find it odd that weeks ago his footsteps incited real fear in your veins, and now he’d spent the day teaching you new ways to be useful. it was a strange and intimate gratitude, but one you felt nonetheless.

you find you see him more now, with your newfound ability to contribute and the determination to do just that. days are spent hauling fresh catches out of the stream, and hunting down small mammals to supplement your diet. you watch him closely—the flex and twist of his torso with the pull of the bow, the way he narrows his focus to the fluffy little thing that scurries among the leaves. with the twitch of a finger, the arrow flies toward its target—there is a screech, and then a sobering quiet. for the first time in your life, you pray—quietly, for the creature with the same instinct to survive that drives you to take its life.

“here,” kento says, handing the bow to you, “try it.”

you wrap your fingers around the wood and do as he asks. it’s deceptively heavy—the tension of the bow makes it nearly impossible to draw back with your own strength. focused and determined not to fail in front of him, you nearly jump out of your skin when his hands cover your own.

“there’s no trick to it,” his voice is gruff but gentle and far closer to you than he’s ever been, “just pull back, like this.”

he guides your hand backward with his own and the tail of the arrow follows—at your back, you feel the muscles in his chest ripple with the effort.

“focus,” he breathes, and you fight a shudder at his proximity, “listen.”

and it’s hard to hear anything over the roar of blood in your ears, but you try, blinking in an effort to snap out of whatever trance kento has put you in. it takes a moment, but then you hear it—the crinkle of leaves beneath tiny paws.

“take a deep breath.” kento allows you to move the bow where you want to, and you try to focus your aim. a bushy tail flicks up behind the underbrush—you train the point of the arrow right below it. your heart thuds wildly in your chest, and suddenly you’re worried that the bow might slide out of your sweating palms, impaling you instead.

“let it go.”

you do as he says, and the ringing in your ears drowns out the sounds of short-lived suffering. he lets go of you then—you don’t notice he’s come to stand in front of you until you feel the rough pad of his thumb swipe gently across your cheek. you blink, your own fingers reaching up to find tears you don’t recall ever shedding. your eyes meet his, and they burn with an intensity you’ve never seen in him before. but he’s not angry—you feel no compulsion to apologize for whatever is happening to you. he takes the bow from your hands, and slings it over his back.

“we’ll go back now,” he says quietly. you follow him up the path, and the tears don’t stop until you reach the cabin. you wonder who exactly it is that you’re crying for.

you don’t know what it is about the nights that follow that lead kento to decide to stick around, but there’s a part of you that’s glad he does. above all else, you knew better than to question it. he doesn’t say much—he never does—but you’re more than happy to fill the silence. you suppose you owe him the opportunity to know you, after all he’s done for you—you’ve no idea how to quantify the gratitude you’ve felt over the last few months. you do what you can.

“there’s a story my grandmother used to tell,” you murmur, eyes to the fire that crackles in front of you, “i used to sit at her feet while she brushed my hair. she only ever told it to me—it was like a secret between us.”

the wood pops and spits an ember at your feet. you watch it blaze bright, the tiny thing—one last attempt to catch before it snuffs itself out. “there was a princess that lived high in a tower built to protect her from the bandits of the neighboring empire. she was only ever allowed to walk the grounds of the palace under the safety of a full moon. one night, as she crept out of the tower under the cover of the dark, she’s lured into the dark forest by a witch. she promises to grant the princess any wish, for a price.”

your eyes catch kento’s, and for once, his expression is not indifferent. he is here with you in this moment, and it warms you more than the flame. “of course she wishes to be free,” you continue, waving a hand at its inevitability, “and the witch turns her into a hare. and in the original story, that’s the end of it. there’s a lesson there, right?”

“but in my grandmother’s story, it’s the best thing that could’ve happened to the princess. she’s free to hop around to her heart’s content. all she does is eat greenery and lay fat in her den until she dies a natural death after a long and happy life.”

you hear what you think is a scoff from the man next to you. your eyes roam kento’s face, and you think there might even be a hint of a smirk there. it thrills you.

“the tale of an optimist,” he offers quietly, and it’s not bitter.

“she was,” you murmur, “until the end, she was an optimist.”

it’s quiet between you for a moment, save for the crackle of the fire.

“i’m sorry you lost her.”

you smile, and it hurts. the tears well up before you can stop them.

“it’s unfair,” you croak, despite yourself. you’d done well to put up a good front in front of kento��humbling, to see how quickly it could be undone.

you startle when you feel a warm palm close around your clenched fist. “it is unfair,” he says, eyes meeting yours.

the warmth is profound, again despite the fire that heats your cheeks. you find yourself leaning into it until you’ve tucked yourself under his arm. he’s tense, but allows it.

“tell me something about you,” you whisper thickly, needing to think of anything else. he hums, tipping his head back. you sneak a glimpse of the curve of his jaw, glowing between shadows cast by a flickering flame. scar tissue curves and shimmers as it tenses.

“we were a group,” he murmurs, still looking up at the old, wooden boards, “myself and some of the neighbor children. there were no family units, there— we created our own.”

you’re so quiet you think you can nearly hear him piece together the memory in his mind. you know he’s gifting you something precious, so you don’t dare speak.

“we were too young to be running around alone, but there was nowhere to go. we knew enough to dodge the militias that would burn through each village. we thought we did, anyway.”

“the elders were kind. they brought in as many of us as they could on nights when the trucks would come down the road. but we didn’t have parents or homes, and they couldn’t take in all of us.” he pauses, sucking in a long breath. it shifts you when his chest expands. “i was small enough that i was able to fit through a hole in the crawl space under a home. Yu tried, but he wasn’t fast enough.”

“he was my best friend.” kento’s voice is quiet, and more fatigued than you’ve ever heard it. it’s unnerving, seeing his humanity laid out so plainly. “he tried to run, but they caught up just as quickly. they would’ve just taken him to a work camp, but he put up a fight.” he says it with a small smile, like he’s proud. “they shot him and left him there to die.”

if there was a way you could be closer to kento, you’d have found it by now, but you find yourself trying to sneak up under his ribs anyway. trying to find a way to siphon his pain into yourself, if only for a moment.

“you were brave,” you whisper, having nothing else to say except for that—for what feels obvious and true. he scoffs, but you can hear the grief behind it.

“maybe,” he says, arm tightening around your shoulders, “i don’t think i’ve ever felt that way.”

you hum, a low and sympathetic thing, fighting the urge to nuzzle into his chest. it’s strange, how easy it is to default to such animal inclinations when there’s no need to abide by arbitrary customs. there is only the two of you here, and the urge to comfort kento is strong.

“will you let me do something?”

he glances down at you out of the corner of his eyes—narrowed in distrust, despite baring his most tender bits to you only a moment ago. you push past it.

“here,” you say, sitting up and out from under his hold, “sit here.”

“on the ground?” he’s not so much incredulous as he is confused—and you’ll take what you can get. you nod, an appeasing sort of grin teasing the corners of your mouth.

his eyes are still narrowed when he goes—crouched in defense like you wait with bared teeth instead of open arms. still, he moves to sit before you—facing you. you laugh a little, endeared.

“i meant for you to turn—“

“no.”

you’re snapped back to reality then—to the present moment, with this man that kindly took you in but does not trust you. you take in a slow breath, careful not to flinch under the weight of his stare.

“okay,” you murmur, reaching up to pull free from your hair the comb that tethers it in its knot, “that’s okay.”

your hair slips down over your nape as you pull the teeth of it free—hard and familiar in your fingers, you offer it to him like one would a scrap of food to a feral dog. an heirloom made of deer bone—your family’s own commitment to using all that you were given, even if it was in excess. a reminder of a luxury that never felt like one until now.

“is it okay?” you ask, pulling up on your own bravery to keep his stare. after a long moment of careful deliberation, he nods tersely.

you lean forward slightly, careful of his space, and let him see the comb as you reach up. he jumps when the dulled prongs meet his scalp, but you stay the course. you pull it through the blond strands—longer than they were when you first met, the dulled ends slipping through with each pass.

you sit back to look at him after a moment. there’s no resistance, nor is there any enthusiasm—but you trust that he’d stop you if he was uncomfortable, so you keep going.

you lose yourself in the task, pulling (or pushing, from where you sit in front of him) the carved bone through his hair. you allow him the privacy of a reaction—eyes focused only on the strands that flit away from the teeth of the comb.

so focused, it seems, that you have to suppress the jerk of your leg when he leans up against it. the quick glimpse you allow yourself gores you—his eyes now closed, head cushioned by the soft of your thigh. looking more childlike than you’ve ever seen him in the months you’ve spent every minute with him. you see flashes of him as a boy—small and without scarring or a reason for haunches to raise in fear or rage. you think of him laughing—rolling in mud and being scolded by an otherwise kind woman instead of squeezing his way through jagged, wooden boards to save his life. never knowing the sound of a shot ringing out in the street.

you tuck your face into your shoulder—determined to hide the tears and your grief on his behalf. determined to let him feel this, whatever it is, and be a safe place for him to do it. to be the strong arm and the kind hand for him now—the one he can give his precious trust to.

the fire crackles and the mourning is heavy in the air—but kento is alive beneath your fingers, and your own heart beat is a heavy and reassuring thud inside your chest.

he is a rose in bloom, in the nights that follow. tightly coiled and still with all of his thorns, but in bloom nonetheless.

he becomes something of your shadow. where he lingered out of distrust he now hovers with intent—comically so, his large body folding itself in the small confines of the makeshift kitchen while you wring out linens in the sink. it’s clear that something has shifted between you—though what, you’re unsure. your mind tells you he is finally coming around to you. your heart yearns for something more than just his trust, though you are not unaffected by the weight of that trust alone.

he is never more than an arm’s length away. he leaves in the darkened hours of the morning to hunt, and is somehow back before the sun rises to wake you. that was another shift—he hadn’t asked you to join him on a hunt since that night. he hadn’t asked you for anything after that, really. he sleeps nearer, too—you’d been under the impression that he’d been sleeping outside until he wound up at the foot of your bed, sleeping still like a guard dog. you didn’t have the heart to ask him about it—you just left the candle burning and turned away from the door. he was owed privacy in his vulnerability, and you give him that.

and however hard to read the man may be, you feel some discontent at not pulling your weight, so you try your best to anyway. patching up holes in the wooden exterior of your home. sealing the windows with fur and fat to beat the chill of the creeping fall. you know that the garden tending is cyclical with the seasons—the cold calls for heartier vegetables. you pull and preen until your fingers swell, aching.

and there he would be—watching you, as always.

“hard work for a princess,” he mutters through something suspiciously similar to a smirk. you level him with a glare—the heat of which is immediately snuffed out in comparison to the heat of the cloth that he wraps around your wind-bitten hands. the heat of his body before yours is a close second to the warmest you've ever been despite all of the holes you'd still yet to patch.

“i hardly remember ever being one now,” you murmur, leaning into his side as his thumbs swipe over your palms—needle pinpricks left in their wake, even through the fabric.

he scoffs, his hands engulfing yours in his warmth. "are you not still?"

"i suppose, technically." you shrug, letting him crowd you over to the old, torn up futon that you'd been using as living room furniture. he'd been doing a lot of that lately—pushing you to relax. itching to take a weight from you. he arranges you to his liking, wrapping one of the woven blankets around your shoulders. "i was meant to be made into more than that, you know. before the uprising."

kento only raises an eyebrow at you. you shrug, past the point of shrinking from his silence. "my family had paid a sizeable dowry to have me married off. an heir in a neighboring village, supposedly. only my grandmother was against it, in her own, quiet way. she took to calling me her rabbit, after her story. she wanted differently for me."

there's no mistaking the way kento stiffens. there's no reason for it, nor is there a justification for the way you want to placate him. you do it anyway.

"maybe it's for the best," you say, waving your hand as if to dismiss the whole thing entirely, "i'm not exactly the noble type, now."

you watch him deflate. he nods sagely, the smirk pulling at his lips again. "surely you're the most frightening princess i've ever met."

you turn your head to watch him settle in next to you—another new behavior, seemingly unbothered by the proximity that he no doubt was unfamiliar with. "what's that supposed to mean?"

his teasing grin fades into something a little more forlorn. "when i found you, i expected you to be afraid. i wouldn't have harmed you—i only wanted to scare you off."

you huff. "that wasn't very nice."

"you weren't afraid though. it was unnerving."

"oh?" you grin, reaching to poke him in the ribs. "you were afraid of me?"

he reaches for your hand and pulls it to his lap. "i was sad for you. it wasn't a resilience—it felt as though you were broken."

it hurts, you decide, to be known like this. how simple things had been when he'd only left you provisions at your bedroom door and left you be. now you'd gone and allowed your heart to run freely ahead without a tether. you'd no way of preparing for the injury that freedom would cause.

"you pitied me," you mutter, unable to keep the bitterness from your tone. the mood shifts between you, and something inside you wants to resent him for it. how warm it had been inside the delusion—the world in which you both exist in this space as equals, brought together by fate and want and nothing else.

"no, not pity." you startle at the feeling of his fingertips as they brush a tendril of hair from your face. "you reminded me of myself. i didn't want you to be alone."

"why take on that burden?"

kento hums, pushing his fingers through the hair at your temple. despite yourself, you lean into the touch. "maybe i didn't want to be alone, either."

you blink, the sentiment working its way into your head. it lands significantly south—deep in your chest with an ache you can't describe. you reach for the wrist in your peripheral, stopping his movement and keeping him close. "is that all?"

"no." his admittance is a whispered, strained thing. you're close enough that to tilt your head back brings his jaw to your lips. the ghost of your breath along his skin makes him shudder, and you feel the fingers in your hair flex into a grip.

"what else, then?"

he ducks his chin to nose at your cheek. your eyes flutter closed, mind empty of all that swam around in it only a moment ago.

"my rabbit," his bottom lip brushes against your own, "what else is there but you?"

the weather changes and the gods grow restless.

you both feel it at the first chill of the year. there’s no graceful turn of the seasons—the air is bitter and cold, and you know something is coming. there’s little time for play, so on the last few warm evenings of fall, you take advantage of it. or you try to—you drag kento into the stream to soak in the dwindling rays of sun, but the knowledge of what is to come weighs heavily on you both. he holds you up in the current—body to body, only breathing. you can't get close enough—to reach inside him and carve out a space for yourself would still not sate the longing you feel.

that wretched something shows it’s face soon enough. the first snow is harsh, collecting in heavy banks against the roof of the house. the wood sags under the weight and the cold creeps in through the wood until the fire is no longer enough to warm the house in it's entirety—only the small space in front of the mantel that you crowd around. you and kento don’t talk much these days—to speak takes energy you don’t have to spare. he is doting as he always is—making sure you are covered in every layer of fabric and fur he can find, but something is wrong. you know the worst is yet to come. you feel it in the way kento holds you too close during the night; it’s never warm enough.

at first there is hope. kento has his food reserves and you'd preserved some of what you’d gathered. but a week of snow turns to two, and two weeks turn to two months. the rations get smaller and the two of you get hungrier. by the third month, you understand that you will not be spared the gods’ wrath. you see the punishment for what it is—a utilitarian consequence to all of the bloodshed by man. you do not have the energy to mull over the unfairness of that. even if you did, the gods do not concern themselves with what is fair—you know that now. the light inside you fades with every new inch of snowfall.

but kento is kind, despite your insistence that he be otherwise. he pulls from his own warmth to add to yours. your dinner portions are always bigger, even if it means he goes without eating entirely. it’s in vain, of course. neither of you will live through this. you scold him for pushing the last of his food on your plate and he doesn’t bother to respond. he only watches while you eat, like he can’t rest until he knows for sure that you have eaten all he has to offer you. you chew through tears and the only comfort is the hand that reaches to wipe them from your cheek. it’s a painful end, wasting away like this. watching kento fade away.

it's when you can smell death's approach that you know with certainty that your humanity has fled for a better place. the thing that remains in you—that keeps your heart beating, that coaxes your lungs to inflate—is purely animal. and it's out of that same primal need that you close the distance between kento's frail body and your own. in the silent chill of the night, the warmth between you may be merely a hallucination now, but you feel it all the same. there is no pain anymore. only a pull into a sleep you want so badly to slip into.

you don't cry—you use the last of the strength in your body to tuck yourself under kento's chin and curl around him in some intimate display of what exists between you. of what has existed this whole time.

"if this is the end," you murmur, knowing that it is, "i'm happy that i'll leave this world with you."

the knuckles that brush against your cheek are sharp and gnarled now. you've never known a touch so tender. it’s odd to speak—to shatter the intimacy of the silence that’s floated around the both of you for much of the last few weeks.

"do you know now?"

if you close your eyes, you can pretend that the man in your arms will live to see the morning. that this is merely pillow talk, and the sun will wake you with warmed skin in a few hours.

but you don't let yourself turn away. it's striking, how even with his last few breaths, kento manages to use them worrying about you. you wonder if he's done it the whole time. you do know; you realize with unmistakable clarity that you'd know his love anywhere, now. you nod, feeling his thready pulse against your forehead.

"i do. you'll have to forgive me for not seeing it sooner."

you feel him scoff—an inappropriate use of dwindling breath that makes you laugh, too. "there will be plenty of time to show you in the next life, my rabbit."

a brief bitterness curls up your spine—the unfairness of all of this creeping back up like a rising tide. how cruel it was to have settled on the loneliness of a life without love, just to be shown the magnitude of a life with it in the final months of your own.

but it recedes in the next moment, because there is no more time to grieve. you can only feel grateful, now—to leave this world saturated in all that kento has given you.

cracked lips brush the skin of your temple—he has no real energy for a proper kiss, but the desire to comfort is strong between you. you spend the next few, precious moments counting the breaths that rattle inside his chest, grateful for every one cycled through.

in the silent hours of a darker morning, there is a light only the two of you can see. shrouded in the glow, he is so beautiful.

with all of your strength, you call him by his name, one last time. "until next time, my love."

epilogue

if the notion of certainty is alive in anything, it is in the way that fable and folklore are sure to be born and born again out of gatherings of beings with mouths to speak it. one such example is the jagged, snow capped hills of Akaito—a new village comprised of all walks of life, the one commonality between them being their displacement during the fall of the Zaiaku dynasty almost one hundred years prior. built overtop the remnants of survivor settlements crushed under the Great Snow, all who inhabit the land know well of the blood that has stained the soil and pay mind to honor the loss of life in their own ways—namely in storytelling. this great coming together eventually gave way to a new mother tongue for the telling of a new bed time story to bleary eyed babes in the middle of the night: the tale of the Akaito lovers—the wolf and the hare.

as the story goes, villagers who have been bestowed some unearthly dose of luck by the gods may catch a glimpse of an unlikely pair—a formidable looking white wolf with scarring across its broad body, and its counterpart: a fluffy and downright regal grey hare. one might catch them romping around in the dusting after a fresh snow, or preening one another under a shaded tree in the heat of the summer. depending on who tells the tale, it might be the case that if a person is truly fortunate and determined to wait out the dark of night, they might even be gifted the sight of the duo curled around one another, sleeping peacefully in a protective and loving embrace under the light of a waning moon.

as with all fables, the story is altered with every new tongue that speaks it, and one day the tale will vanish from the minds of the younger generations completely. but for now, it is ripe in the minds of the young and old, the latter of which are very certain that it is no mere fable at all.

#sike i’m posting it now #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento fic #nanami x you #jjk fic #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen writing #livedeliciously🐐collab

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orgasming-caterpillar · 7 months ago

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And It's Too Cold//It's Too Cold

Songfic Based On: Sweater Weather, The NBHF

Nico was in the cooldown room when it happened. Towel in hand, he was wiping the cold droplets trickling down his torso when Lewis burst open the door. (They didn't even use the cooldown room at the same time anymore.)

“Nico.”

The name left his teammate's mouth for the first time in weeks. Nico's throat didn't have to tighten like that— he wasn't going to speak anyway.

“I need to talk to you,” Lewis said, something desperate in his voice that Nico wasn't sure was real.

All I am is a man

Nico’s words were careful, deliberately stern. “What do you want, Lewis?”

I want the world in my hands

“To talk to you- about the race.” Abu Dhabi. 2016. “You won. Congratulations. I still won the championship.”

That seemed to snap something inside Lewis. In a swift motion, he lunged at Nico. But his childhood friend was much too familiar with his tactics, he knew about his speedy attacks and had swift reflexes to match. All those teenage years spent wrestling on hotel beds weren't for nothing.

“I don't fucking care!” Lewis shouted, his collar grasped in Nico's hands, Nico pushed all up against the wall. “I don't fucking care that I won the race!”

“You seemed to care a fuck lot about it on the track, mate,” Nico spat.

Lewis jerked his shoulders, hitting his head on the wall in the process. “Why can't you see, Nico?! Why can't you understand? I can't take this anymore.”

I hate the beach

But I stand in California with my toes in the sand

“Take what, Lewis? Because all I've been doing this year is take and take and fucking take. You haven't taken shit compared to what you've put me through.” His eyes were burning now. He needed Lewis out of here.

“I can't take this— you pretending I don't exist. I will take the accidents and the crashes and the goddamn fistfights, but I can't,” —his voice broke, eyes welling up, and Nico had the urge to wipe them before any tears fell— “I can't take this, Nico.”

Use the sleeves of my sweater

“You really think you're the only one suffering? How self centred, how typical of you, Lewis.”

Let's have an adventure

“...What?”

“You think this doesn't hurt me? this non stop fighting and competition, and never making up? Open your fucking eyes. I don't like this any more than you do.”

Lewis' hands dropped from his shoulders, chest heaving. The air between them was electric, too dangerous to breathe in.

Head in the clouds but my gravity centered

“Then why do you do it?” It was the smallest voice Nico had ever heard.

Because it's better than admitting the truth. Because it has less consequences than saying 'I love you.' “Because you started it.”

Touch my neck and I'll touch yours

Dark eyes trailed from his wet hair to the damn skin of his torso, not in a lewd way, but like a man recalling all that he has to lose. When he looked back up, there was a hope in his eyes that Nico couldn't bear looking at. “And will you stop if I stop?”

You in those little high waisted shorts, oh

This was a terrible idea from the beginning. The Karting, the trip to Greece, the ride-or-die friendship, all of it— terrible.

Oh, she knows what I think about

“Stop fucking thinking so much, Nico, it can't get worse than this.”

It really couldn't.

And what I think about

The answer came in the form of a desperate hand grabbing the back of Lewis’ head to bring him closer.

It was a gunshot, the way their lips met each other's. It was the sweet shock of love after a lifetime of yearning. It was like their first sip of too-strong whiskey at fourteen, knowing they've crossed a line they can never go back to.

One love, two mouths

Lewis’ surprise melted into eagerness in a split second. Nico tilted his head and grabbed his bicep. Lewis had grabbed Nico's face with both hands like he was something dear and precious.

It really was a terrible idea, and nothing could ever fix it; but if they were going to burn they'd go down singing in the flames.

One love, one house

“Take off your shirt,” he grunted. Lewis obeyed.

Smooth brown skin burned under Nico's freezing palms. He grabbed a handful of the pecs, moaning into the kiss.

No shirt, no blouse

“Is this—” Lewis pushed him away. God give him dignity, Nico almost whined. “Is this a confession thing? Or a goodbye thing? Because I have no idea what I'll do with a goodbye fuck.”

Just us, you find out

Nico had no idea either. He didn't want to leave Lewis. But for now, the only thing on his mind was the throbbing heart under his hand. They were here. ‘Leaving’ seemed like something out of a hazy dream. “I don't know.”

Nothing that I wouldn't wanna tell you about, no

Lewis had this look on his face— like he wanted to run away but his feet wouldn't take him. Nico wanted to tell him that there was nothing he could have done to change anything. There was nothing that could have ended up with them anywhere other than where they are. He didn't say anything.

'Cause it's too cold for you here

“Do you really? Or is this another game?” Yes, Nico wanted to yell. He knew what Hamilton was asking. 'Do you really love me?’ and he wanted to yell, Yes, yes, yes. I do love you. I do. I'm sorry. All he could do was nod.

And now, so let me hold

Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

Lewis put a hand on his cheek, kissing him again. Only this time it was so much more gentle, yet hurt so much more. Somewhere in his subconscious Lewis seemed to have realised that this was probably the first and last time they will ever do this; and he did it like he wanted to remember.

And if I may just take your breath away

There was so much Nico wanted to say, and he couldn't say any of it. He wanted to scream.

We will never be the same again, he wanted to say. I will never love another like you. A moan. You've destroyed all that I was. A sigh. Do not destroy what I am. Hands caressed his body, so soft it was painful. Build me a pyre, and I'll still whisper your name as I burn. A prayer. I love y—

“How do you want this?” Lewis whispered, hands working him out of his pants.

I don't mind if there's not much to say

Nico grabbed his shoulders, using the stability of Lewis’ hands on his thighs to wrap his legs around his waist. He relished in the way Lewis groaned, he would never hear it ever again.

Sometimes the silence guides a mind

To move to a place so far away

Lewis was gentle, so gentle. They both loved like an ocean. With Nico it was a tsunami; desire coursing through his veins as he groped, wrecked, swallowed everything that came in his way. And with Lewis it was this; sweet, gentle and relentless like moonlit waves in the darkest hours of the night. What choice did either have but to drown?

The goosebumps start to raise

“More,” he whimpered, arching his back against the wall. The soft gaze with which Lewis was watching him was more violent than any fistfight they've ever had.

And then I watch your face

Put my finger on your tongue 'cause you love to taste, yeah

It hurt— even with how tender Lewis was being. Maybe more so because of that. He harshened the pace at Nico's request, hiding his face in the crook of his neck. Their hearts beat in sync, thudding against the ribcages pressed together.

These hearts adore, everyone the other beats hardest for

Strangling begins with holding. Cannibalism begins with a kiss. They both bring grief and hurt and madness; what is love if not just tender violence?

Inside this place is warm

Outside it starts to pour

He reached the peak of his pleasure first, spilling onto their abdomens. Lewis followed right after.

Coming down

One love, two mouths

They stayed like that for a while; chests heaving, foreheads pressed together, hearts broken like the promises they made at fourteen.

One love, one house

No shirt, no blouse

“Don't leave me, Nico.”

Just us, you find out

Why do you speak to me and why do I try to understand? he thought. We no longer speak the same language.

Not a word was uttered.

Nothing that I wouldn't wanna tell you about, no, no, no

“We can fix this.” That damned hope.

'Cause it's too cold for you here

“Put me down,” was what Nico chose to say. Lewis did, searching his face desperately for an answer.

And now, so let me hold

Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

Nico picked his pants off the floor, pulling them on without another word. Lewis spared them both the pain and stayed silent as well.

'Cause it's too cold for you here

He was wiping his torso with a spare towel when Lewis finally spoke.

“You promised, Nico.”

Nico looked at him, no longer caring about the wet streaks on his cheeks. “We made a lot of stupid promises.”

And now, so let me hold

Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

“You said we'd race together. Forever. You said you wouldn't race without me. Then why should I?”

Wasn't forever such a sweet lie? It wasn't nearly as long as people thought it was.

Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

“I'm leaving racing for good, Lewis.”

And it's too cold, it's too cold

Lewis was silent for what seemed like hours. “I love you.”

With a single whispered phrase, Nico shut the door behind him. “It'll pass.”

The holes of my sweater…

#f1 fic #f1 ships #f1 rpf fic #brocedes #lewis hamilton x nico rosberg #sunshine and britney #madhav ke lekh #brocedes angst #brocedes smut #formula 1 #formula one #f1

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localcanadiancreature62 · 2 months ago

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More of these mfs. More Perfect Plan/Perfect World au stuff.

Plot - So basically,Ford willingly gave out the equation to Bill by word of mouth while the triangle abided by his word regarding him promising that Stan and the twins remain unharmed if he got what he wanted. Ford then added that he agreed on joining Bill and his Henchmaniacs in wreaking havoc on the world with Global Weirdmaggedon,which overjoyed the isosceles as his genius finally agrees with him for once throughout their aggressive push and pull dynamic despite him not knowing the real reason why Ford joined him (he plans on getting closer to Bill and gaining his favor as he used the triangle's favoritism of him to be spared from the various atrocities that his former muse is going to commit while he tries to come up with a way to kill Bill with a sneak attack without him knowing). Stan and the twins got to escape the town with their lives intact while bringing everyone else with them as Dipper and Stan don't trust Ford anymore ever since he decided to choose Bill over them,not knowing the truth about his decision,they left along with the rest of the zodiac wheel members as they knew that Bill would shatter the town without a single inch of concern. Ford then spends five months as Bill's plus one in the end of the world,watching the triangle escape the town with the lack of a barrier keeping him inside as he conquered every country in the world as every world leader began to worship him and change their nations to be in his image in order to appease the isosceles.

Bill razed said nations daily while putting them back together just to rinse and repeat the next day,he also erased all consequences via his newfound time abilities after destroying Time Baby. Six months later,Bill has totally taken control of the entire world as he not only got the world's leaders to agree with his demands but he also literally has eyes everywhere while having clones of himself manage every corner of the world so that he knows EXACTLY what's going on. The triangle has started a worldwide tyranny and Ford just has to sit back and watch lest his plan of destroying Bill in secret gets ruined.

Bill and the Henchmaniacs enjoy their newfound iron grip on Dimension 46'/ as they finally get to have a home that isn't actively rotting or empty meanwhile Bill is just glad to have a giant human playground all to himself. Although being on top and having everything you want can get a bit boring,so Bill decides to "liberate" Dimension 46'/ like he planned as he burnt it to the ground similarly to what he did with Euclydia. Ford didn't like that. He was fucking traumatized as he watched the isosceles destroy his entire dimension,thus making him lose his family his friends and his home,he watched from the Nightmare Realm using a crystal ball that Bill gave him so he could see the whole thing. Ford basically had a mental breakdown as he attempted to kill Bill for causing him such a devastating loss,fruitlessly blasting his laser gun at the near godly triangle whom he knew could destroy him in an instant with his ability to control space matter and time itself but he didn't care as he needed to get rid of the pest that ruined his life.

Bill instantly regretted his decision to raze the man's dimension,as he thought that Ford would be fine with it since he went along with everything else and this made him realize that his genius won't join him in ruling the universe anymore after he destroyed the guy's dimension (plus he doesn't want Ford to be unhappy) like he planned (as his plan was basically "Conquer the world,destroy the world,and then rule the multiverse with Fordsy by my side"). So Bill stopped time before Ford could kill him and then he ended up fixing his horrible mistake by creating a whole dream world for his genius with Fidds Stan the twins and everyone still alive but as non sentient copies that agree with the researcher's every word.

"You fucking MONSTER. HOW DARE YOU DESTROY EVERYTHING I EVER HAD?!. WHEN I STAYED BY YOUR SIDE AND AGREED TO ALL OF YOUR DEMANDS THROUGHOUT THESE FEW MONTHS?!. I WILL DESTROY YOU UNTIL THERE'S NOTHING LEFT OF YOUR DAMNED GEOMETRIC BODY!." Ford exclaims as he then tries to lunge at the triangle,with sheer anger and hatred in his eyes as Bill then telekinetically stops him from tackling him. "I thought that you chose me over your dumb family,Fordsy. Turns out i was wrong. I kept them alive for as long as i could,but they had to go along with EVERYTHING ELSE." Bill remarks as he laughs maniacally,appearing to not regret his horrible mistake as he watched the man growl at him with pure rage in his expression.

"Once you release me,i will tear you limb from limb. Molecule from molecule. I will build a machine that'll give you the most EXCRUCIATING PAIN POSSIBLE. And i will NEVER choose you,i never did. I only did because i was planning on destroying you from the start,i should've killed you earlier before playing along with your game though before you could do THIS to me." Ford replied as he glared at the triangle while explaining the truth about his plan regarding why he joined his so called muse despite being hesitant at first. Bill then realizes that Ford will never consciously choose him,unless he did something about that. He then came up with an idea,to fix everything both for him and his genius.

"*sigh*. No one will ever choose me. Unless i make them." Bill says as he then telekinetically pulls Ford closer to him and then he touches the man's forehead,making the man flinch and squirm but he then stops struggling once Bill gets ahold of his memories which he starts to nitpick until he replaced all of them with more positive less traumatizing ones while erasing his memory of their prior argument a few seconds ago. Ford becomes more peaceful and less pissy as he then asks his husband about what they're doing in an empty void (what Dimension 46'/ became after Bill destroyed everything),becoming a bit disoriented from the mind fuckery. Bill then tells him to wait in the Nightmare Realm as he nudges him toward a portal that leads to the decaying dimension while he creates a surprise for his genius.

This is the beginning of Bill's Perfect World for Ford. Then a week later,Bill and Ford enjoy their new lives in Ford's new condo/company building that consists of his new anomaly research facility called the Oregon Institute of Oddology as Bill continues on destroying and conquering worlds while he enjoys his spot as the multiverse's eternal ruler which he acquired in only a short time due to his current power level with him being able to control space matter and time. This brings us to now,to Ford's perfect life with his isosceles partner.

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historicity-was-already-taken · 3 months ago

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One thing that truly disgusting me about so many Jewish people outside of Israel is how much they throw Israeli Jews under the bus. They themselves have never experienced true hate for being Jewish. Getting the stink eye or some flyaway comment is the highlight of the antisemitism they ever experienced, and they wallowed in this in order to keep the victim status as much as they can.

Meanwhile, I, an Israeli, experience people try to murder and annihilate me in a daily basis. Non stop terror attacks, that started years before Israel even established, and are still going full force. There was a serious one in my city last week, in a location I visit frequently. Almost 20 years of being constantly bombed, ever since Israel got out of Gaza. Underground tunnels of terror, underneath Israel territory to allow terrorists to cone into civilian houses and kill people un their homes. October 7, a truly horrifying massacre, including brutal rape, maiming, burning people alive, in their homes or taken from their homes, or from a peaceful festival music in the desert, parading young women half naked and bleeding in front of a crowd of Palestinian men spitting on them, beating them and cheering, filming these actions while laughing. Abducting some of them to Gaza, to these underground tunnels, not letting humanitarian organizations like the Red Cross see them, not telling Israel who had been taken and if they are alive or dead. Calling their children to help them loot the houses of the people who they just massacred and abducted. There is a video out there of these children taunting and mocking an Israeli child who was still alive and calling for his mother. And above all, the knowledge that this could happen again and this time it could me or my family, friends, neighbours, who are brutally raped, maimed, burned alive, abducted. The horrors of living like that you couldn't even start to understand.

No sympathy. Nothing. You have not an ounce of sympathy for the Jewish people who live in Israel. You just want to distant yourself as much as you possibly can, so the false accusations of "Palestinian genocide" will not stick to you. This is the biggest blood libel in history, to say that Israel, a country that literally is fighting for its life, the life and safety of its citizens, is committing genocide just because they have no choice but fight in a populated civilian territory. The numbers of the Palestinians death are also heavily exaggerated, by the way, even the UN that is extremely biased against Israel admits that. But the most important thing is that you can feel good about yourself. Fuck Zionists, fuck Israelis. No sympathy. No empathy.

To say that I am deeply disappointed by the Jewish diaspora is an understatement. You don't feel any empathy or sympathy toward us who live under constant terror, who still have 100 civilians held hostage, dead or alive we don't know, who experience terror attack every other day (currently, ever day), who experience bombing and missiles launched at us, who live in true, real, palpable fear that something like October 7 will happen again and again, unless something would be done to stop it. Who live with an extremely hostile population that wants us annihilated, and they say that out loud, but somehow the world is completely deaf to that.

It hurts, you know? How the world treat us? How much they hate us, us who are being attacked all the time, who tried to reach our hand in peace but getting it bitten again and again, and on October 7, have our hand severed? These Kibbutzim who were annihilated, they were very leftwing, set there with civilians Palestinians in meetings trying to advance the idea of living together in peace, helped the Palestinians, driving Palestinians children to hospitals on their expense, hiring them,and this is what they got. This is what they got.

I am done. I am done. People like you who says fuck Zionists are not my brothers and sisters anymore. Your Judaism is just a tool for you to feel some authenticity and claiming oppressed status. Victimhood points. I am done.

No one harass the person who sent this. Leave them alone. I don’t care what your religion or nationality is. Leave. Them. Alone.

I never said anything about Israeli civilians or civil society. I also know the details of exactly what went down on October 7.

What do you want from me? I am a fucking history blog dealing with a bunch of hostile gentiles trying to ideologically pin me down as a good Jew or a bad Jew when I’m just trying to do my work as a Holocaust historian. In fact, I’ve even stated here that so long as half the Jews in the world live in Israel, i am obliged to care for the welfare and safety of Israelis because their fate is inextricabley intertwined with mine. And I was harassed and verbally abused for saying that shit.

You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me and my views on Israelis or the realities of the military operations to eradicate Hamas. You don’t know about my ties to the country, the family and friends I have living there; the safety my family found there after fleeing Poland. Because I don’t put that here. Actually, most of what I put here about Zionism is wrt diasporic Jews who misuse Holocaust history to bully Jews with divergent views.

You know my begrudging takes as a historian and that’s it. I’d end this with a blistering takedown, but you’re one of my people and you’re in pain and I’m so sorry you’re in pain, but I’m in pain too.

I’ve dedicated my life to the history of our people’s pain, and you don’t get to verbally excommunicate me based on my interactions with western gentiles and diasporic Jews who verbally abuse me.

And I guarantee you I’ll be verbally abused for showing you empathy for the horrific situation you’re living through.

No one harass the person who sent this. Leave them alone. I don’t care what your religion or nationality is. Leave. Them. Alone.

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maidenvault · 2 years ago

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RotJ makes a point of letting us know that Leia is Luke's sister, they've known this on some level for a long time, and he probably cares more about her than anyone in the world because this gives so much more weight to his conflict at the end of the movie, and I think this is a huge thing people overlook when they argue that him redeeming his father represents a rejection of the old Jedi ways of non-attachment. Because in the moment he has to let go of Leia and his friends to be able to actually save Anakin.

When Obi-Wan tries to convince Luke that he has to kill Vader and there's no other way, he doesn’t really discuss it as an issue of Luke having an attachment to him. I think he knows this isn't really the Jedi way but just like in the previous war, they don't seem to be faced with any good choices. Obi-Wan believes what Luke wants is truly impossible and, having failed to stop Vader when he could have before, of course he's trying to stop Luke from making the same mistake.

But it's significant that in the same conversation, Obi-Wan does warn him that his love for his sister could be made a liability if he's not careful. When Luke learns he has a twin and reveals how strong a connection he feels with Leia because he doesn't even have to be told who it is, Obi-Wan's response sets up how this will play into the climax of the film:

"Your insight serves you well. Bury your feelings deep down, Luke. They do you credit, but they could be made to serve the Emperor."

Then when Luke is brought to Sidious, he reveals to Luke that the Rebellion is walking right into a trap as a way to torment and provoke him. Luke gets angrier and angrier while helplessly watching the fleet get ambushed and finally does just what Sidious wants and tries to attack him. But it's Vader specifically threatening Leia that makes Luke totally lose control of his feelings and fight him in a rage.

Luke is basically facing the same kind of test he failed so badly in ESB by running off to help his friends. When Yoda is trying to make him see he's not ready to face Vader and keep him from going to Bespin, he says something that I think is such an underrated quote in its importance to Luke's whole journey:

"Decide you must how to serve them best. If you leave now, help them you could, but you would destroy all for which they have fought and suffered."

Luke is really lucky he doesn't get killed in Cloud City (or captured, which I think at this point could have resulted in him being turned). Yoda knows Luke is the one person with a chance of defeating the Emperor and Luke just about throws that away.

But at the end of RotJ when Luke cuts off Vader's hand, he surely is reminded of his failure at Bespin and sees the path he's starting down by succumbing to his fears like that again. He stops because he sees he's betraying his loved ones and everything he is. He can only throw away his weapon and confidently tell the Emperor to eat shit then because he's no longer afraid of dying or of those he loves dying. He's done what his father couldn't do and kept his soul intact, which is what Leia would want. Because real love isn't selfishly trying to save someone by betraying what they believe in like Anakin did with Padme. And it obviously has to be an incredibly powerful thing for Vader to see his own son able to do this, even comparing himself to the man he once was ("I am a Jedi, like my father before me").

We remember everything working out okay so it's easy sometimes to forget that Luke gives this triumphant speech when the rebel fleet is getting pulverized outside and things overall still look pretty hopeless. He probably expects he could die at this point. But like Obi-Wan in his own death scene, he knows nothing can destroy him now. And it's the love he feels for his family that gives him the strength to let go.

#luke skywalker #anakin skywalker #leia organa #jedi order #pro jedi #star wars #meta #my meta

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forever1kay · 2 years ago

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WASH DAY !!

Summary: Miles hasn’t had time to care for himself lately, so you take the time to do that for him.

Pairing: Miles Morales x Fem!Black!Reader (Best Friends to lovers trope)

Notes: I did age up Miles slightly in this fic, he’s 17. Please be prepared for a lousy description of facial and hair care, I’m not a professional and I only know what works for me. ALSO, there’s a picture at the very end and it’s not a faceless pic bc I couldn’t find one😔

Warnings: Non-sexual nudity, breaking and entering, Miles was very crusty for a lot of this fic, slander of Jehovah’s Witnesses, profanity of course, clueless Miles, mentions of death, a few nsfw lines… let me know if I forgot anything

You had just finished detangling your hair and were three seconds away from stepping into the shower when you heard a knock at the front door. You debated answering but ultimately decided against it when you realized it was probably the Jehovah’s Witnesses for the third time today.

Stepping into the shower, you hear a thud against the floor in the other room and all you can do is pause and hope you'll be okay. A few seconds later, the bathroom door opened and all you could do was scream and grab the shower curtain for cover.

"Oh Lord!" You scream as your legs give out and force you to sit on the shower floor. "Lord, help me! I'm being attacked!”

“It's just me, Y/n/n!" Miles shouted while frantically waving his hands. “To think you’d recognize your best friend when you see him.”

You stop thrashing and peak your head out from behind the shower curtain, staring up at Miles. “Hi there!”

"Hey," He says, stooping to your level on the other side of the tub. “That was an interesting show you just put on.”

"I was going through something.” You replied, clearing your throat, “When exactly did you get back to this dimension? You smell like booty juice.”

Miles stands up and shyly scratches the back of his neck. "Yeah, about that," he starts. "I just got back and I haven't had time to shower or anything."

“Seriously? You left a week ago!" You cried out while standing up but keeping your body hidden behind the curtain. "Why didn't you go back home and take a shower?"

“Forgot my key at my friend Hobie's.”

“Of course.” Grabbing your shampoo, you sighed and started to shampoo your hair. “I’ll tell you what…”

Miles nods, waiting for you to continue.

"I'll wash your hair after I wash mine. That sound good?”

Miles hums in approval.

“Good! Go shower in my sister’s bathroom.”

"I can't just come in there with you?" He asks.

“Miles, be for real.”

"Okay, okay!" He chuckles and raises his arms in surrender. “Do I still have clothes here?"

“Of course! With how often you’re here, it’d be weird if you didn’t.”

Miles hums. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“I’ll leave your clothes outside of the door when I’m done. If you finish before me, just sit tight. It won’t kill you.”

He smiles and gives you a sincere thank you before leaving to take a shower of his own. You unexpectedly finished before him, so you made the decision to leave clean clothes outside the bathroom door for when he’s done.

You did your after-wash routine and wrapped your hair while you waited.

About 20 minutes later, he came back from the restroom wearing the clean clothes you had left for him and threw himself onto your bedroom floor.

“You ran all my momma hot water, Miles?” You asked him.

“Nah, I left some.”

You chuckled and got up, walking towards your room door. “Okay, come on.”

“Where are we going?” He asked, following closely behind you.

“To wash your hair.” You said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

He raised an eyebrow. "How does that make sense when I just got out of the shower?"

Rolling your eyes, you grab a seat from the kitchen table. "You know how to stick your head in the sink."

"My neck gets hurt that way." Miles pouts and takes the chair from you, setting it in front of the sink.

“Everyone has that problem.” You respond, gently pushing him into the chair as you experiment with the water temperature then rush to the bathroom to get the shampoo, conditioner, and treatment.

When you come back, Miles is staring blankly at you.

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

"I don't want my hair to be washed in the sink."

“It's either this or you wash your own hair.” You tell him. He shakes his head. “You sure? If you want your hair to be crusty, it’s up to you.”

Miles shakes his head again and takes his shirt off before leaning back in the seat and closing his eyes, wordlessly agreeing to get his hair washed in the sink.

“Alright!” You smile, starting to wash his hair.

Your arms eventually became worn out, and you briefly complained about it before choosing to sit on him.

He awkwardly cleared his throat. "What are you doing?"

"This lessens the stress on my arms."

“Oh.” He nods. "Yes, right. Okay, great. Cool.”

He suddenly started to draw shapes in your thighs with his eyes closed. You did your best to stay calm.

"How was your week?" He asked, his words starting to slur from fatigue.

“So good.”

“Yeah?” He challenged. "Tell me more about it."

Miles had stopped running his hands along your legs, but you were too busy telling him about your week-long college tour at UCF to notice.

You saw he had fallen asleep and was somewhat drooling when you reached up to rinse his hair. Before the moment was over, you immediately dried your hands and took a picture of him. After that, you washed his hair once more, rinsed it, and then used your preferred conditioner.

As soon as you were done, you cleaned your hands and tried to wake up Miles.

"Pssst,” You whispered, "I'm finished.”

"Five more minutes.” He said with his eyes still closed, gently pushing your face away.

“No, Miles.” You responded, "Come on.”

After hearing him snore in response, you reached for the sink faucet and extended it in his direction.

His eyes shot open before you could turn on the water, and he grabbed your wrist. “Alright! I’m up, I’m up.”

You pat his face and rise, placing the faucet in its proper place. “Good! Now stand up.”

“Where are we going?”

You place an oversized cotton towel on his head, grabbing his hand and pulling him behind you. “To the sofa so I can do your hair.”

“Do what to it exactly?” Miles asks, following behind you with your hand still in his.

You shrug as you sit on the sofa and set a pillow on the floor for Miles to sit on. “No idea. You have something in mind?”

Miles squishes into a comfy position between your legs. "Actually, yeah."

And after 45 minutes of Miles being tender-headed from his first set of braids, you finished.

"Calm down, you ass." You scolded. "We're finished. Go look at it.”

Miles went to look at his hair in the bathroom before excitedly running back to you and lifting you up.

"I love it!" He shouted, spinning y’all around. “How did you learn to braid like this? Thank you!”

When he became too dizzy and lost his balance, you squealed while wrapping your legs around his waist. Your back almost hit the floor, but Miles saved you by flipping over last minute.

"My bad…" He said apologetically.

After a few hours, your family came home and found you and miles sleeping on the couch. They asked you both to get up and move so that you wouldn't take up space.

You took this moment to your parents if he could stay the night and they pointed at the air mattress that you’d have to inflate for him.

About time the air mattress was inflated and the both of you laid down in your respective beds, neither of you were tired anymore.

“Miles.” You whispered.

“Y/n?” He replied.

"Wanna do a thing?” You asked, wiggling your eyebrows.

He sat up. “What thing?”

“Let me give you a facial.” You spoke, rolling over to face his bed.

Miles raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't the boy give the girl-"

You threw a pillow at him. "Nigga, not that kind of facial!"

He caught the pillow and threw it back, hitting your shiny ass forehead with it. “Then what are you talking about?”

You got up and walked toward him, reaching your hands out for his. “Cmonnnn, just trust me.”

Miles sighed and rolled his eyes, taking your hand. “Fine.”

He is then dragged into the bathroom where you force him to wash his face while you get all the supplies. Once he has finished cleaning his face, you lead him back into your room and give him a durag.

Miles sits on your bed, puts on the durag, and sends a worried glance your way.

“Don’t worry, I got this!” You reassure him, sensing his apprehension. “Now lay down.”

“Okay, okay.”

You straddle Miles when he lies down on your bed, pausing for a second before you do anything else.

“I would just like to let you know that i am not a professional and I have absolutely no clue what I’m doing.”

Miles smiles up at you. “It’s fine.”

You return his smile before picking up an under-eye mask for eye bags.

“What’s that?” He asks.

“An eye mask.” You reply.

“Where does it go?” He asks dumbly.

“Right under your eyes.” You chuckle. “Close them.”

As instructed, Miles closes his eyes. You place the eye mask under his eyes and then take the jade roller and massage the eye masks against his face.

After some time had passed, you threw the eye mask in the garbage next to your bed.

“Okay, you can open your eyes.”

Miles started to sit up. “We’re done? Already?”

“No, Miles.”

He laid back down.

“You can keep your eyes open for this one.” You told him, grabbing the lip scrub.

“What’s that one?”

“Lip scrub.” You tell him.

You take a scrub brush and generously cover it with lip scrub before placing it on Miles' lips and gently massaging it in. He stared up at the concentrated expression on your face.

About thirty seconds later, you went to get a damp towel to remove the lip scrub, but Miles beat you to it.

“This tastes good.”

“Miles no! Don’t eat it, the packaging says you could die!”

Miles gasps and shoots up, snatching the lip scrub container and knocking you to the floor in the process.

“Show me where it says that!”

“It doesn’t, I was just kidding.” You huff. “But now I should kill you myself for almost killing me.”

He shrugs. “It’s not my fault you told me I was going to have a premature teenage death.”

You roll your eyes and grab the warm rag, climbing back onto your bed. “Anyways, you can lay your head in my lap and I’ll finish this.”

Miles quickly lays down on your lap and looks up at you.

His lips are effectively damp after you wipe away the last of the lip scrub for you to be able to apply the desired lip serum. You apply a small amount, then rub it in. With a lovesick smile on his face, Miles looks up at you.

You raise an eyebrow.

“You’re so pretty.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“What?!” He counters. “I-I don’t know.”

You sigh and shake your head, applying a lip mask, then a jelly face mask, then facial serum, and lastly moisturizer on his skin.

By that point, Miles' eyes were closed, and you were unsure of whether he was asleep or not.

“Miles?” You speak softly.

“Yeah?”

“I’m all done, love.”

“Can we do another one?”

“No, sir. We cannot.”

“But I feel so relaxed.”

“We can go to sleep if you want?”

“No, let’s watch a movie.”

“Yes! I’ll go grab snacks.”

Ignoring the puzzled stares from your family, you run to the pantry to grab some snacks before returning to Miles, who had already decided on the movie.

“What did you pick?” You ask, setting the snacks down carefully onto the bed.

“Howl’s Moving Castle.” He replies, pulling out his phone and sitting at the foot of the bed. “Say cheese!”

While chuckling a little at Miles, you smile towards the camera while holding the straw's tip in your mouth.

“What are you laughing at, huh?”

“You’re adorable, Miles.”

“Thanks, I try.”

As the movie begins, you roll your eyes and set the drink down.

About halfway through the movie, Miles moves closer to you and lies in your lap, staring up at you.

You frown down at him. “You okay, Miles?”

“Yeah.” He replies, smiling a little before starting to watch the movie again.

About five minutes later, he breaks his silence by bringing up the facial you gave him earlier.

“You know, you should really try some of the lip scrub.”

“I will not eat the lip scrub that I paid money for.” You tell him, “So unless you have another way, then I won’t-“

Miles reaches out and pulls your face to his in the classic Spider-Man kiss, holding you there as long as you let him.

Six seconds later, you pull away from Miles and give him a confused look.

“I’m totally not complaining, but what was that for?”

Miles closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before looking back up at you. “I like you a lot, Y/n…”

“So your mom wasn’t trying to trick me?”

“SHE TOLD YOU I LIKE YOU?!”

“Yeah?”

“Ignore her from now on.”

“I did, that’s why we’re having this moment so late.”

“Does that mean you like me too?”

“Mhm.”

Miles smiles awkwardly. “Cool.”

You give him a pat on the cheek and resume watching the film.

He breaks the silence again a little while later.

“…That lip scrub tasted good, didn’t it?”

You giggle and peck his lips again. Before the movie was over, you both had fallen asleep.

BONUS:

The following morning when you woke up before Miles, you checked your Instagram and found a surprise waiting for you.

#lovekaia #kaiaxmarvel #mcu #marvel #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #black coded reader #spiderman #spiderman into the spiderverse #itsv #spiderman across the spiderverse #atsv #smau #sony animation #prowler miles #atsv x reader

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missmarveledsblog · 4 months ago

Text

It's the middle ( Joel miller x reader)

Summary: the town had their own theories to why y/n shell suddenly was opening more , only some took it as invitations and after she sets an asshole straight in the bar for his words on her and Ellie she is attacked . Some things are reveal and a darkness is coming back from the past

Warning: attempted sa , sort of heavy part not gonna lie

This is part two of its a start

They wondered how he did it , how the usually non social butterfly Joel miller got the surprisingly worse no social y/n well to talk . it wasn’t like she was new towns personality or anything but she was saying hello and actually answering people. They heard her voice albeit at first was almost a whisper but it was far from the short nods of acknowledgements which to be fair were also far and few inbetween . ellie also stop swearing keeping her word for a whole ten minutes before her mouth caught that missed out time up. But in the end they all wondered how he done it.

Something that didn’t end with the world was the gossip , each having their on theories of the matter from something bad happening she it was like a life is too short sort of thing to not so pg remarks that joel fucked her so hard she went into a factory reset those ones made him roll his eyes and scoff. She on other hand didn’t take notice of the rumours , ignored whispers about her as she walked learning to be open again was taking up more head space then grown adults acting like teenage girls. Which the little social interaction now open she notice men her age and older started talking to her some took her saying no as it was , some added weak jokes but again took her word and other well they didn’t take it so well like the very existence of her rejection was a threat to their male centred egos . she didn’t give them time of day which only made them more pissed like she was” little miss high and mighty” in their words. One in particular didn’t like it as much as the others , thought his shit didn’t stink and she was lucky to even have his attention .

Nigel Baker , he was attractive she’d give him that but it was everything else that was so ugly about him . the man was selfish , expected the best when he gave the bare minimum and serial womaniser . He bragged about how he took down a hoard of infected with just his hunting knife yet seemly everytime it was time for him to go on patrol he would have some form of injury that would make him useless for the task but for some reason or other he thought he desired everything he wanted and that included y/n .

“ he’s staring at you again , creepy fuck” ellie rolled her eyes as two sat at the bar of tipsy bison.

“ let him i ain’t bothered man like that is a child at best” she chuckled taking sip of her whiskey as ellie drank her water although she did try persuade them give her a glass of the “ hard stuff” .

“ i mean joel and tommy should be here soon , he usually stops when their around , going back to his fake ass tales” she snorted.

“ fake ass tales who would that be?” the sniffling voice asked behind them .

“ oh you know some kids and their tales , it’s cute but you can tell real one mile away” y/n barely looked at the man who was too well self absorbed to pick up the slight dig in her words.

“ ain’t it truth , they ain’t like us baby huh? Real survivors ” he took seat beside her.

“ why you talking like that aren’t you from chicago or something” ellie snorted at fake southern drawl he kept putting on .

“ ain’t you too young to be here , seems as though the miller bitches need to be taught their place, is that what you need baby , i mean fix her might make that one like men again huh? ” he shot back .

“Hey hey , so you fought off a hoard right that must of been scary when you do that” she asked batting her lashes fake smile like she wasn’t biting her tongue .

“ oh like six month ago easily” the smirk on his face one she seen in so many before him a mask of a monster, was the best way to describe it.

“ do you have it” she asked sweetly as ellie head watched in amusement , she may of not heard y/n speaking long but it was long enough to know she was playing with the man before her.

“ course ya can , see this is the one that did it” he held it up, anyone with weapons experience could tell it was a phoney ,thing wasn’t cutting anything but possibly the air. She took it from his hands and let out a loud laugh , louder than anyone possibly ever heard before including ellie.

“ this ain’t fighting anything but a hoard of butterflies never mind infected , i mean it’s good but it’s faker than your accent which could use a little work just saying” she snorted.

“ clearly don’t know anything about knives baby because look at it clearly been through it ” he scoffed although the blush on his face told a different story.

“ i know it a faux metal made probably what six months ago rust and pattern on knives ain't like that this ones got green flecks not the rust of the older ones would get , see it don’t even mark the wood so nigel my fake ass cowboy infected annihilator why the bullshit because my daddy used to make um before all this told me how to spot cheap ones from the real ones , i can see now why you don’t go on patrol wouldn’t want to break the show piece… oh and cowboy wanna be ain’t nothing needs to fixed with ellie just pissed she get more women than you do ” she laughed watching his smirk fall , that look in his eyes .

“ you’d wanna shut your mouth girl , just cause your joel millers plaything doesn’t mean i won’t put you in your place” he growled.

“ go ahead and you’ll see what a real knife is” she smiled holding it in her hand and his fake in her other . “ now leave before we have real problems” she handed it over .

“ watch yerself sweetheart old man can protect you all time” he hissed.

“ i can protect myself little man” she waved watching him storm out .

“ that was bad ass, the rust really go green ?” ellie chuckled .

“ the metal has a chemical reaction over time only thing that knife could do is spread butter on my toast i mean could take down one but even at that it would break easily” she shrugged.

“ hey there’s dina i’ll tell her to wait here til joel gets here incase he’s outside ” ellie smiled excitedly.

“ nah go ahead joel will show up he knows we’re here and bastard knows his place go on lover girl ” she smiled taking another swig .

“ ok tell him i’ll be home for curfew” she had a bashful smile while heading to the girl ones she’s expressed her interest in the last while seen as it wasn’t one side and two were close. Of course y/n wanted that , she wanted it with a man she could never have well in her mind could never have .

It was hours she sat waiting only too give up thinking maybe the meeting was in over time or joel already went home either way she was getting tired and her bed was definitely calling , a few good men offered to walk her home but she waved them off knowing it was a five minute walk back plus air was getting cooler hoping to catch the first of snowfall one tradition she always kept from her old life , the life of her family . ones who wanted her to be must of a child as she could be in a world falling apart. She stood out it was perfect sort of weather , her eyes on the sky watching waiting as she walked through the darkening streets of jackson . like on cue the first flake floated down from the sky as she smiled softly catching it on her finger tips , then another and then another. So concentrated on the connection to memories she didn’t register the figure sneaking up behind her til his hand was around her mouth and other dragging her off into the makeshift ally of the stores. Kicking and pushing trying to break the grip to no avail , being tired and drinks in her system didn’t have her as precise as before . she felt herself being slammed into the walls hitting her head against the brick but she could tell even in her daze vision she knew exactly who it was.

“ fucking bitch , what you gonna be a nasty little slut for , what is it i’m too young fer ya , like em old” nigel spat pinning her front to the cold wall . “ i’ll get you liking em you age again put manners on ya , stop you running your mouth” he laughed as she felt his hand going to her jean only for her to pull the knife out she could feel the blood heading into her eye . she felt his hand going for the button only for her knife to hit the skin cutting him making him get off of her with a hiss when she pushed him away . she ran yelling , screaming loudly as could hoping someone would hear her. She felt the arms wrapping around her making her slap and hit the person away.

“ darling stop it’s me , calm down” his voice , the man she wanted the panic setting as his scent hit her know . his voice calming that fight only for her to break in his arms it reminded him of the night she first let those walls come down . “ what happened” he asked softly.

“ nigel he tried to … tried”she said before crying again what she didn’t know was the men heard the commotion , was heading way as tommy and couple others headed to the alley .

“ take er home we’re going to pack his bags” tommy called as the men held nigel in their grips probably for his own safety from the look on joel’s face .

“ come on darling we get you home and cleaned up” joel lifted her up a her hang clung to him terrified like some how her mind made up the fact he was there and if she let go he would disappear. “ i cut him” she sniffled head buried in his neck. “ i hurt him to get away”.

“ only protecting yourself darling s’okay “ .

“ i pissed him off , provoked him joel i made everyone laugh at him i just wanted him leave me alone” she began crying again he could see it her torn clothes blood on her face the bruise on her cheek , the way she shook in his arms . it killed him , killed him to see her like this hell if she didn’t need him so much the bastard be dead before tommy and other even got the chance but she needed him and he promised her he always got him on her side.

He brought her to cleaned her up , gave her some clothes and gave her his bed for the night .

Ellie was late but moment she stepped in door she knew something was wrong, she could see he was tense more so than usual , she could see the bloody cloth and yet not scratch on him .

“ Y/N was attacked tommy and couple other taking him out of town , she’s sleep upstairs so be quiet” he said too tired mental and physically hating if wasn’t so close what the outcome would of been.

“ let me guess nigel” she asked .

“ yeah she told me about the bar man waited til she wasn’t looking , took her off guard cause prick knew she would of done worse if he confronted her straight on” he spatted hands gripping the chair knuckles bone white . “ lucky i ain’t out there now , she thought she done wrong , said she provoked him , she hurt him you believe that her heads busted open and bruised cheek and she thinks she done wrong i don’t care if she punched him in that bar a man don’t do that” he growled ready to grab his coat.

“ hey pretty girl you ok” ellie called looking to the stair snapping joel from rushing out the door.

“ i’m ok really urm i think i should get home” she smiled weakly.

“ yeah not happening in fact i’m putting you on house arrest til breakfast tomorrow” she joked hugging her tightly . “ i should of stayed” she could feel the shake in girls voice.

“ nah i already told him i’d show him real knife i got it don’t worry” she kissed her head softly probably only other person to have the affection from y/n . “ it’s no ones fault ellie he deserved what he got in the bar after what he said nothings more fragile than a monsters ego” she pulled back .

“ what he say in the bar?” joel asked.

“ bragging , said ellie needed fix , i was your plaything i mean lists goes on” she rolled her eyes yet winced at the sting in her cheek. “ i was biting my tongue and then he started with that so i well probably pushed too far but i’d do it again” she sat on sofa .

“ go get bed kid let you off this time coming home late” joel nodded his head at stair .

“ you better be here is morning , night you two” she called heading up the stairs .

“ i’ll take sofa” she looked up at him a smile on her face but he could tell it was put on , he could see it didn’t reach her eyes or did it convince anyone before he could say anything a knock was heard at door making her jump .

“ it probably tommy relax i’ll tell him come back in morning” he patted her shoulder hating how she tensed under he touch but he didn’t take it personal . he was right minute door open it was his brother only he didn’t wait for joel to speak letting himself in straight over to where y/n .

“ hey firecracker you ok” he asked going to reach out touch her face only she moved back . “ sorry sweetheart , you cracked him in the nose and his hand is fucked so good job” he smiled weakly .

“ i didn’t know i just swung and ran” she laughed dryly wishing she done worse .

“ he gone?” joel asked .

“ we had bring him to doc but guys are bringing him out now” he nodded . “ you ok though? He didn’t…hurt you?” tommy asked feeling guilty for not getting rid of the prick sooner.

“ he only got to touch my jeans before i sliced his hand” her voice cracked looking down at the sweats .

“ ok ok good he won’t bother you again i promise you that , couple of guys will double check in morning too but tonight it best you stay here ok ” .

“She is now let er rest , come back tomorrow” joel huffed holding door open .

“ yeah right sorry it’s late just needed to..” he said only to hugged her tightly. “ i’m glad your ok” he smiled pulling back heading out the door.

“ Course I am I not alone anymore I got you guys” she Called out .

“ ok ok hallmark you need rest I'll see you tomorrow And so will maria bring proper shit to cover the wound “ he chuckled calling Back .

she sat looking at her hand , she hated she let herself Get distracted it could of been so much worse and yet joel proved her right He was there when she needed him , she wasn't facing things alone .

“ come on go take my bed no one needs to take watch"he huffed sitting beside her keeping his distance but still being close.

“ I can sleep every time my eyes close I feel the wall , I can feel his breathe on my skin “ she sighed head falling back hating She felt so vulnerable It wasn't a emotion she'd felt in years and one she thought she never Feel again .

“ I can sit with you talk So you won't hear him , you hear me , hold yer hand so you can feel me whatever you need I got you I promised you that and I don't break those not to You” he said softly watching the way she relaxed to his words , how when he touched her hand she didn't tense or freak out. She held on tighter like she was afraid it was all part of her dream , joel would be gone And Nigel Would come back .

“ could You stay with me all night?” It was so low almost a whisper But even he heard her like not matter What he'd always Hear Her. He didn't say much just a nod of his head and keeping hold of her Hand bringing her up the stairs making sure to keep his promise.

The towns Men all glared as he was dragged towards the gate . Each one Of them wanted to hit the bastards Since some had women In their life some had daughters some had sister , some had experience of men Like him . Nigel knew he fucked up moment She ran and they showed up . He seen it on all their Faces like they Took it personal but the bitch needed manners , needed to be taught A lesson . He pleaded Said he'd make it up some how but was only told me like that don't changed . Bag on his back And out the gate he went .

“ I'll bring um out” mark called dragging him roughly along other probably sensing a beating coming But for a man like him , shit happened with wave of their hands stood waiting.

“ come on you” he growled as The other man gulped. Wondering if he could make some Sort of break for it.

“ just play along asshole” mark hissed. “ I'm helping you out here” those words Melt his fear away following man out dragging his steps to make it look good .

Once they were out of the hearing range mark let him go pulling a knife and gun out Handing them over. “ there's a camp couple Miles east leader is jonah , tell Him mark sent you from jackson And whatever you have on y/n and jackson , he'll set you up , don't tell um you touched er though he'll kill you on spot” mark spoke Quietly.

“ why y/n why should I believe All this?” Nigel eyes widened .

“ because jonah. Wants his wife back sent me here To do it but i needed get on their good side” he explain hastily . “ just tell him soon” he handed over gun and knife . Headed back into town as other waited . “ he’s gone , wont see that scum again” he smirked to the men and headed off to his house. Yeah he needed to get y/n back soon and now with nigel might be sooner than he thought lets hope the dipshit made it.

Part three

#tlou joel #the last of us joel #joelmiller #joel tlou #joel miller #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #tommy miller #maria miller #ellie williams #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fic

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porcelainseashore · 7 months ago

Text

Into the Ether (9)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, alcohol, drug references, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Author's Note: Implied child kidnapping ahead.

Taglist: @admirxation @angelstargel @miss-oranje-disco-dancer ❤️‍🔥

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Chapter 9: Blood Is Thicker Than Water

Another night, another part of the mystery to solve. But first, you had agreed to go into work. Nothing was going to stop you, not even the ‘Prince’s orders’. Something about having a nightly routine kept you sane and grounded you in reality. Not that what you were experiencing wasn’t real, but you didn’t want to lose touch with the living. You didn’t want to become like… Leon?

You heaved a disheartened sigh thinking about it. You’d been giving the man the silent treatment ever since returning from the Spencer Mansion, and you didn’t like it one bit. Hurting people wasn’t something you enjoyed — be it ignoring them out of spite or acting in a way that would lead to someone’s unfair demise. It didn’t help that you were constantly being reminded of how powerless and insignificant you were. Was this the best you could do when taking a stand? Or was there something more?

Working felt like walking. You went through the motions: socializing with your colleagues, pandering to customers, planning out the next month’s events program, making a couple of calls along the way, and your personal favorite — sorting out the cafe’s finances. Even the Redfields showed up, informing you and by extension, Leon, that they were still on the suitor’s case and would have something juicy for you soon.

“Do you ever miss the sun?” you wondered out loud.

It had barely been a week since you turned, but you were already bemoaning the fact that you wouldn’t be able to live to see it. Although the nights were longer now that the year had entered into its colder period, you had thought ahead, speculating how it would be like when summer returned again. That was depressing.

“Always,” Claire responded, patting your shoulder empathetically.

“Best not to think about it,” Chris chimed in, taking a swig from his beer bottle. “You’ll get used to it at some point, and besides, there’s always YouTube.”

“Very helpful, Chris,” his sister huffed in disdain, forcefully backhanding her brother so that he choked on a bit of his beer.

“What the fuck, sis?” he groaned, wiping the beer stains off his clothes with his bare hands in annoyance. “On my nice shirt as well.”

For some reason the constant bickering between the siblings caused you to double over in laughter and they looked at you in amusement. After you recovered from your giggling fit, you pointed to Chris' bottle, asking, “So you can do that thing of actually enjoying what you eat and drink?”

“Uh huh.”

“Maybe you can teach me?” you tested the waters. “Leon was supposed to, but—” You stopped yourself in your tracks, realizing that you’d have to share a lot more than you would be comfortable with.

Unfortunately, Claire was perceptive enough. “Trouble in Paradise?” she suggested, only to continue on her train of thought when you didn’t answer, “Whatever it is, you don’t have to tell me. He may be a prick who needs a nudge in the right direction, but he’ll come around.”

She pressed her arm against the wall and leaned forward with a mischievous grin. “And I hate to say this, but he’s actually a good guy.”

The expression on your face must’ve given away how you felt when Claire had uttered those last words. She quickly peppered it with, “He must’ve screwed up pretty bad, huh?”

“Let’s just say it’s one screw up after the other,” you finally replied.

Chris gave a low chuckle, “Sounds like him alright.” He shrugged. “Can’t blame the guy for trying though.”

“Alright, I’ll let you in on something,” Claire began, only to be interrupted by her brother.

“Oh man, not again! Can’t ever keep your goddamn mouth shut, can you?” he scolded.

“Shut up, Chris! She’s cool with us, you know that,” she retorted and he conceded, though you could still hear him grumbling in the background.

Turning towards you triumphantly, she continued, “I’ll keep it short. He saved my brother's skin; I owed him a life boon, and Chris probably did too, but he turned it down in the end.”

“Yeah, said something about not wanting to take advantage,” Chris piped up, shaking his head in disbelief. “To this night, it still floors me.”

What they had said gave you some pause. It seemed as though Leon had a bunch of demons to confront, and there was always an internal battle waging. You just hadn’t been able to break through. But did you want to in the end? Or would you just leave him to rot in his own misdoings? You weren’t anyone’s savior and you didn’t want to be. You simply wanted to do what felt right to you.

“Guess there’s a lot more to him that I don’t know about,” you mused.

Chris’ wide palm met your back with a loud thump that reverberated across your chest. “Hey, chin up, kid. It’ll take a while, but you’ll get there. Us Brujahs don’t give up without a fight.” His brown eyes lit up and crinkled, fine lines of crow’s feet fanning out from the corners. “And no matter what anyone says, I still think you’re one at heart.”

“Brujah, huh? I like the sound of that.” A crooked smile played across your lips as you laid your cards out on the table. “I’ve heard you’re fierce fighters. Mind showing me a few tricks? Just so I know how to fend for myself.”

Chris stood taller, eyeing you with curiosity as a sense of pride visibly swelled in his chest.

“I could throw in a supply of beers on the house to sweeten the deal,” you added, pointing at the empty bottle he was clutching at his side.

He barked out a laugh before responding, “Well, now that you put it that way, you’ve got my hands tied.” Placing his bottle down on a table beside him, he agreed, “Sure, I’ll give you some tips, but a word of warning: I don’t go easy.”

The rest of your shift went by without event, until Leon dropped by to pick you up for the next meeting planned that night. Since neither of you had gotten any real leads on the case yet, he thought it best to visit the Bakers first before heading back to NEST, where the Primogens' offices were and where Jill would be waiting impatiently for answers.

In the jeep, the atmosphere was thick with tension, though along the way, he tried to cut through it with some advice. “I know you’re still upset and don’t want to talk, but I need to prepare you for this.”

He tapped on the steering wheel nervously. “As Malkavians, the Bakers all suffer from some form of affliction following their Embrace. In this case, they believe a little girl called Eveline is part of the family, except no one else can see her.”

“You mean she’s invisible?”

The car swerved off-center as Leon glanced over at you, startled by your response. It was the first time you had spoken to him in a while. You clung onto the grab handle and yelled, “Keep your fucking eyes on the road!”

“Shit, um, sorry!” He focused his attention back to his driving, quickly stabilizing the vehicle before he spoke up again. “And, uh, no. I mean, we don’t think she actually exists.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Okay, and is that going to be a problem?”

“Not if you pretend she does,” he stated plainly. “Otherwise, they’ll get really provoked if you don’t interact with Eveline.”

“Right, thanks for the heads up.” You nodded curtly. “Anything else I should know?”

“Yeah, well, uh, just be—”

“Careful. Got it,” you finished the sentence for him.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he emphasized. “These folks have always been rather isolated from the Camarilla. Last I heard, they don’t take kindly to strangers sticking their noses where they don’t belong. So, if all hell breaks loose in there, I want you to book it and run, alright?”

You frowned, shifting your gaze in his direction. If his intention was to allay your fears, he had done nothing but heighten them. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.” He flashed you a reassuring smile, but you could make out the hint of unease in the curl of his lips. “Take the car keys when we reach the place, so you have your escape route if needed.”

You let his words linger in the air as you kept quiet throughout the rest of the ride.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Reaching the outskirts of Raccoon City, you were traveling along Stone-Ville Road, where there was nothing but open land. The trees had been cleared from the forest, and multiple estuaries flowed from the Raccoon Dam. The area was sparsely populated, with only a smattering of houses spread out from each other in the distance. At some point, Leon made a left turn into a side road, heading towards a decrepit-looking estate that was slightly off the beaten track. It appeared to bear some similarities to the Spencer Mansion back in Arklay Forest, causing a spine-tingling shiver to sweep through your body.

“Designed by the same architect from the Trevor & Chamberlain fame,” Leon pointed out, seemingly able to read your mind.

“That guy from New York?” You remembered reading about him in magazine articles and the mystery of his disappearance as people mourned the loss of a genius.

“Yeah, so expect surrealist stuff, including puzzles and secret passageways,” he cautioned.

You balked at the thought of having to enter yet another labyrinth like the one at the Tremere Chantry.

“It’s just for a friendly chat,” he asserted, his calming blue gaze meeting yours. “I doubt there’s any need for us to explore the house, unless they make things difficult.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” you muttered, tucking the car keys into your pocket as you stepped in front of a formidable, rusty gate.

It was unlocked, and as Leon pushed it open, it screeched on its hinges like a dead woman's wail, beckoning you towards the crumbling building before you, which was long past its heyday. The refurbished plantation house, where you assumed the Baker family lived, was part of a larger ranch estate, and it looked like something straight out of a slasher flick.

Leon pressed the doorbell, waiting to see if there was any sign of life. A light switched on, its mellow rays filtered through the window shades, and you heard hurried footsteps on the wooden floorboards until the door swung open. An older lady with her dark hair tied back in a loose ponytail peered at both of you in confusion. She wore a tattered, sweat-stained button-up blouse and a brown skirt. Her coarse and wrinkled skin still carried an unfaded tan, suggesting a life of manual labor, where she had tended to the animals and fields under the sweltering sun.

“Can I help you, miss, mister?” she asked in a heavy Southern drawl. “We weren’t expecting anyone at this time.”

“Ma’am,” he dipped his head politely in acknowledgement. “Sorry for intruding on you like this, but there wasn’t any other way to contact you.”

“Well, we don’t want no trouble, young man. Just mindin’ our own business, that’s all.” Shifting nervously from foot to foot, she fiddled with the hem of her cotton blouse, glancing over her shoulder every now and then at a blank space behind her.

Your attention was drawn to the area she kept looking at, and as you concentrated on it, the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. You had the strangest sense that someone was there, but you couldn’t make out any shape or figure, just an energy. An icy chill gripped your head, as if cold hands were feeling along the grooves of your brain. You shuddered, realizing that whoever it was knew that you were aware of its presence.

“We don’t want any trouble either,” Leon assured, raising his palms slightly to indicate a truce. “We just have some questions we could use your help on, regarding an attack a couple of nights ago.”

The woman still clutched onto the door apprehensively. “Why? Who sent you?”

“The Prince put us on the investigation,” he disclosed warily.

At that moment, a shadowy figure materialized behind the woman, taking a few seconds before you could make out his features in the dim light. He was an older man, around the same age as her, balding and wearing spectacles. Likewise, his yellow striped shirt and beige pants were worn and filthy, as though he hadn’t changed out of it for decades.

“Prince?” he questioned defensively, placing his hand on the small of the woman’s back. “What does the Prince want? We didn’t do nothing wrong, son.”

“No, you didn’t,” Leon agreed, quickly following up with an explanation to assuage the man. “We have the assailants in custody, but it appears they’ve been brainwashed and manipulated through Dementation — a skill that you’re well-versed in.”

The man eyed him like a hawk as Leon continued, treading on thin ice. “We thought we could use your expertise, and if you might’ve picked up on anything out of the ordinary in the vicinity.”

There was a pregnant pause before the man relented, “Fine, you got five minutes to ask us anything you wanna know, son.” Pushing the door wide open, he gestured for you to enter. “Come on in.”

As you stepped into the gloomy premises, he pointed at you, flashing a warning glance in your direction. “And no more snoopin’ around, young lady.”

Oh, right. You must’ve unwittingly activated one of your powers earlier to sense his presence, when he had relied on his Obfuscate Discipline to remain hidden. “Sorry, my bad,” you mumbled. “It was an accident.”

He nodded, turning around to make his way into the living room where a dining table was situated. “You girls can come out now,” he hollered.

You saw a younger woman with jagged, short hair emerge in a similar fashion to how the man did before, sitting at one of the chairs at the table. Despite that, you greeted two people as Leon had instructed, and he followed suit. A round of introductions followed, where you learnt that the older couple were Jack and Marguerite and their two daughters, Zoe and Eveline, with the latter being the youngest at ten years old.

Marguerite disappeared into the kitchen for a bit, only to return with a tray of crockery. She handed out cups to everyone and poured a red, viscous liquid from a teapot. Jack grumbled in the corner that it was meant to be a short meeting, but at the same time, couldn’t help but appreciate his wife’s hospitality. Bringing the cup to your nose, the liquid smelled musky, like earth, and you wondered where it came from.

“It’s the best I can offer at such last minute notice,” she apologized, wiping her hands on her blouse as she sat herself down. Twisting her head in the direction of the empty seat next to Zoe, she cooed, “But Evie likes it, don’t ya, sweetheart? That’s it, drink up now. Little piggy’s blood is good for you.”

You watched as the cup on the table remained motionless, while Marguerite bombarded the invisible entity with sweet words of encouragement. Trying to ease the awkwardness in such a situation, you took a mouthful of the liquid from your cup. It was the first time you tasted animal blood and as much as you hated to admit it, it was incredibly bland compared to human blood. Like a simple gruel versus a gourmet meal. Then again, neither could bagged blood beat the real thing, though you tried not to dwell on it. You smiled politely over at Zoe, who threw you a sympathetic look.

“You’re new, huh?” she asked shyly, cocking her head as she gazed at you.

“Mm hm, about a week.” You took another sip and pursed your lips, swallowing the liquid like a chore that had to be done.

“Ooh, a baby!” Marguerite interjected, suddenly interested in the conversation between you and Zoe. You imagined she was the social butterfly of the group. “Maybe Evie can show you a few tricks.”

At this, Leon rested his hand over your arm protectively, forcing a strained smile. “Perhaps another time? We really should get down to business.”

“Ah, city boys and their ‘business’,” Jack remarked, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles. “Well, what can we do for ya?”

You heard Leon speak, but his voice seemed to drone on with the others, and out of nowhere you started to enter a tunnel vision. In your line of sight, you spotted a framed photo of the Baker family, though something was amiss. There was a young man in the picture you hadn’t met yet. He was thin and lanky, and had a hoodie on that obscured part of his face. Leaning back on the couch, he stared directly back at you with a bored look in his hollowed eyes.

It took you a while, but you managed to snap out of it, uttering the first thought that came to your mind, “Is that your son, mister?”

All at once, the mood in the room shifted, taking a dramatic turn for the worse. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on you as Jack ordered ominously, “Get the hell out.”

You opened your mouth in protest, but Leon beat you to it, rising up from his seat as he contended, “Look, she didn’t mean anything by it. We’re sorry, alright? Could we just—”

“Shut your goddamn mouth, boy!” Jack bellowed, his command resonating across the room.

Leon’s body grew rigid and he remained mute. Dread seeped into your bones as you observed the previous scene of peace and tranquility descend into an utter nightmare.

“Mama, Evie’s getting upset,” Zoe announced in a tiny voice.

“Argh! See what you’ve done now?” Marguerite shrieked as she stomped around the room in a temper tantrum. “This is your fault!” she accused, glaring at you and Leon.

“You barge into our house and threaten my family? This won’t do!” Jack shook his head menacingly as his eyes glowered. “I’m just gonna have to teach you a lesson.”

His eyes changed into an otherworldly shade and Marguerite joined him, speaking in tongues. They gazed at Leon as if engaged in a séance. However, Zoe remained separate from their antics, looking on in fright. You stood rooted to where you were, bracing for the worst, but nothing happened. It was only when you saw Leon sink to the ground on his knees, his face pale as a sheet, that you realized he was bearing the brunt of your transgression.

He was taken back to years ago, at the height of his blood bond, where he would do anything to win Ada’s affection. Her interest in him had begun to wane and he was sure she was seeing another lover. But this time, he would bring her the vessel that would change her mind about him and guarantee her everlasting love.

There he was, at that godforsaken group home, the one linked to the Catholic church he had frequented when he was still alive, and where he would sell his damned soul for a second time to the Devil. All it took was a flash of his police credentials and a charm or two from his arsenal of skills he had honed to entrance the nuns keeping watch over the children.

“Sherry, are you ready to go?” He extended a hand towards her.

This wasn’t his first rodeo. Ada and him had been noticing the little girl for a while, testing to see if she would be a worthy vessel for the Prince himself. After all, Ventrues were extremely fussy drinkers and Wesker expected a Michelin star meal every single time. The only thing stopping him from delivering the girl over was a vague sense of morality he still had within him. But he was desperate enough now to dash it to the ground for a chance at his sire’s approval again.

The girl had dressed into her school uniform, a hairband holding her blond tresses out of her face as she peered up excitedly at him. “Yes, let’s go!”

She would have done anything to get away from the home where she never slept well and felt alone despite being in a room full of kids around her age. Where Leon was taking her sounded like a glorious fairytale. A palace with a prince, she imagined, a place where she would be treated to all the luxuries her current life could never afford her.

“Oh god, no!” he cried out, doubling over on the grimy floor of the Baker House.

Sherry was haunting him again. Everywhere he looked, he saw multiple copies of her like a cracked mirror reflecting her ghost on its uneven surface. He heard layer upon layer of her laughter, jumbled and out of sync, mocking and taunting him. Paranoia sank in and he curled himself into a fetal position, pleading for no one in particular to forgive him.

“Sherry, please, we have to go!” he urged.

This was years later, when he had some sense knocked into him from the time he hung out with the Anarchs. He wanted to right his wrongs, and free the girl who was never meant to be trapped in the underworld in the first place.

But she had changed. She was older and wiser, and knew exactly what she wanted — it was definitely not to leave.

Yanking her hand back, she kicked her feet, stamping on the ground as she yelled, “No! I want to stay!”

He was shocked by her absolute conviction in remaining within the prison where she was held, like a pretty songbird for the rest of the Kindred to gawk at. “But…”

“You can’t make me!” she screamed, red in the face.

Rendered speechless, he didn’t know what else to do than stare at the crying child before him with his jaw hanging open. He thought he was saving her, like a knight in shining armor, but she didn’t need any saving. She was perfectly happy where she was.

“One day, I’ll get you out of there. I promise,” he babbled on repeatedly, reduced to nothing but a trembling mess before the Malkavians.

During the entire period when Leon appeared to be suffering from a mental breakdown, you were torn about what to do. He had told you to bolt the minute something like this took place, but you couldn’t leave him to fend for himself in this state. You didn’t understand what he was blabbering on about. Was Sherry his sister? Where was she? What happened to her?

A million thoughts raced through your mind, but you shut them down. You needed to pry Leon away from the family’s cold clutches and keep him safe. Mustering your courage, you approached the one who seemed to be the most reasonable of the lot. She still sat in her chair, gazing upon the scene with a vacant yet troubled expression.

“Zoe?” you called out softly, hoping it wouldn’t escalate the situation. “Please, we don’t mean any harm.”

Her eyes darted towards you.

“I know you’re just trying to protect your family,” you deduced, especially from the way they had been on edge the moment you stepped onto their property and inadvertently brought up one of their own.

“We need the information, but I swear to you we will keep whoever it is you’re trying to protect safe,” you promised.

Her breath hitched, and she looked at you with glassy eyes. In the background, you could hear Leon’s gut-wrenching whines of pain.

“Zoe, please!” you begged, your brows furrowing and tears on the verge of spilling from your eyes. You couldn’t bear to witness him in such agony any longer. It felt like your heart was shattering into pieces, though you couldn’t explain why.

“Eveline, stop,” her calm voice sliced through the air and the buzzing energy died down.

Her parents came out of their hypnotic state and Leon stopped shaking uncontrollably, though he backed himself into a corner in fear. You rushed to his side, holding him in your arms as you checked his eyes to see if he had fully returned to the present.

“You stayed…” he whispered, reaching out to touch your face, as though he was trying to ascertain if you were real.

In an instant, you pulled him into an embrace, rocking him gently as you stroked his hair. “You’re okay, Leon. You’re safe.”

After a while, he relaxed into your arms and his breathing returned to its normal tempo. The Bakers exchanged worried looks but said nothing as they gave him time to recover. Finally, Jack broke the silence. “I-I’m sorry about what happened there, son. Just been a lot going on these days.”

You turned around, deciding to take the reins as you spoke for the two of you, “I understand, and as I promised your daughter, we’ll make sure that, um—”

“Lucas,” Marguerite offered.

“—Lucas won’t get hurt.”

Jack nodded, taking off his glasses as he wiped the sweat off his brow. “You see, how we work is through what others call premonitions or clairvoyance, and all that mumbo-jumbo.”

Clearing his throat, he continued, “Well, lately we’ve been sensing a bunch of Sabbat activity in the city. Their symbols are everywhere, like little red hotspots across the center. They’re planning more of these attacks for sure, just heading down along the river.”

“Circular River?” you probed.

“Uh huh, the one closest to town,” he concurred. “And, uh, I’m guessing you were also here about the Cobweb?”

“Yeah.”

He swallowed anxiously as Marguerite took over. “It don’t always speak to us, and sometimes it’s hard to make out what it says. But we heard somethin’ the other night.”

She paused, adjusting her hair restlessly before she divulged, “It was Lucas’ voice, carried like a wave by a thousand voices, saying his name is nobody. That stood out, but we don’t know why.”

Nobody said they were nobody…

You caught a flicker of recognition in Leon’s eyes as you recalled what the man had said during Jill’s interrogation. Was Lucas responsible for all of this?

“Where’s Lucas now?” Leon asked, his voice still a little unsteady.

“He don’t want to be found.” Jack shrugged dejectedly. “My boy’s always been a real firecracker. Left home one day and never came back. We think he’s with them — the Sabbat.”

“But he’s a good boy,” his wife insisted. “Please don’t hurt him.”

“We just want him to come home,” Zoe added. “Evie wants her big brother back.”

The joy and curse of familial bonds. You could get behind that.

“We won’t breathe a word about Lucas,” you pledged, overriding your sire’s authority as you answered on behalf of him as well. “Right, Leon?”

You could see the discomfort in his expression, though he grunted an affirmative reply.

As Jack showed you out of the house, you thanked him and his family for their assistance, though a final question came to your mind. “Can Dementation have long-lasting effects?”

“With the right choice of words, it can.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

To play it safe, you took over the driving on the way back as you and Leon discussed the information you had gleaned from the Bakers.

“You think Lucas is the one?” you asked as you stopped at a red light.

“No, I don’t think he worked alone,” he opined. “It took two of the Bakers to bring me to my knees.”

There was a momentary pause as he clenched his fist at the memory, exhaling another deep breath of air. “I know we are talking about manipulating a group of lesser vampires, but unless he’s a prodigy we’ve never discovered, there were most likely others involved at the same time.”

“Makes sense,” you agreed, easing off on the brake pedal to switch over to the accelerator as the lights went green again.

“You still want to protect the guy, even after what he did?”

Your grip tightened on the steering wheel, causing your knuckles to turn white. A promise was a promise, and there was more than enough bloodshed these nights.

“Yes,” you forced the answer out through gritted teeth. “Got a problem with that?”

“I admire you,” he murmured, dispelling your misgivings. “Your compassion.”

You felt your anger dissolve as you followed up with a suggestion. “It’s never too late, you know?”

He gave you a weak smile but remained silent for the ride home.

Back at his apartment, you noticed that he still seemed shaken by the night's events as he kicked off his shoes and sat on the couch, gazing blankly into space. Was he going to doze off in that position? You had already changed into a loose muslin nightdress and gone through the usual bedtime preparations.

Strolling over, you sat down beside him, trying to strike up a conversation. “They spooked you real bad, huh?”

He didn’t laugh at your joke, though he acknowledged it. “You can say that again.”

This wasn’t like him at all. You grabbed his shoulder in concern. “Hey, you don't seem okay.”

“I’ll be fine,” he sighed, looking away from you to his lap. “And… thank you for back there.”

“I would never abandon you like that,” you stressed, even if you hadn’t forgiven him for turning you… yet.

He glanced at you with his watery blue eyes in appreciation, but you could tell that his mind was in a distant place elsewhere. Even though he tried to hide it, you saw his hands quivering, and you hoped that what the Bakers had done wasn’t permanent. You knew he was trying to put on a brave front, but a part of you felt uneasy about leaving him on his own.

“Um, why don’t you sleep next to me today?” you offered hesitantly.

He peered at you quizzically. “You sure?”

“Yeah, just get dressed, alright?” You made your way up the stairs and waited for him by the bed before he could argue any further.

He joined you later, clad in a plain t-shirt and sweatpants, keeping a respectable distance as he lay beside you. There was a nervous energy to him.

You drew nearer, caressing his arm tenderly. “We don’t have to talk about whatever you saw in there,” you affirmed. “I’m here if you need me.”

He tucked your hair behind your ear as a stray tear fell onto his face. Wrapping your arms around him, you closed the gap, breathing in his scent as you felt his hands along your waist. It seemed as if an eternity had passed before you released each other. His nose nudged against yours as his warm breath grazed your cheek. When his gaze lowered to your lips, you didn’t have to think or doubt what would come next.

Leaning in, he placed his soft lips over your own, kissing you intimately as he savored your taste in his mouth. Instinctively, you kissed back, running your fingers through his messy locks as your tongue licked across the seam of his lips. A low moan escaped his throat as he pressed up against you, claiming your lips again and again. It was the last thing you remembered as daysleep enveloped you like a cocoon, lulling you into a temporary hibernation.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil #vampire au #vampire the masquerade #vtm #crossover #fic: into the ether #porcelainscribbles

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