#xposted on ao3

[lilacxquartz]

love you, love you, love you;

mr. crawling x reader

plot: some things are best expressed without the need of words — themes: spooning/cuddling, smut, maybe yan vibes — w.c: 1.1k

a/n: my first homicipher related fic. i want to try one for mr. silvair & mr. gap next, bc they were also my favs. this game has been taking over my life so much lately. like it’s been in my dreams, haaah.

masterlist • ao3

Mr. Crawling was always loud when he was excited within your company; his laughter filled out the vast empty spaces that were otherwise unadorned with familiarity. Whatever you once sought from those winding corridors was ever-fleeting, temporary, leaving you stuck within the confines of his company.

Yet, when he felt what you could only interpret as affection—that’s when Mr. Crawling then became different—quiet, soothing, kind but also… curious.

And when you would usually sleep, he would stand watch, knelt over the floor as per his usual stance but sometimes crouched near you, sometimes leaning back against the wall with his legs pressed up against his chest. He would watch you as his life depended on it, unwavering in focus and with eerie intensity. He would watch as your chest rose and fell, leaning close on occasion to catch the sweep of your breath and sometimes, he would trace the pad of his milky fingertips in long, languid strokes against your face. Always so delicate, so tender, but for the most part, quiet and even shy.

Having once caught a glimpse of Mr. Gap in your blanket space, however, set something territorial off for Mr. Crawling and he was never able to recover from such an invasion. The very idea that someone else was able to infiltrate what he deemed to be your space—especially someone who he disapproved of—wasn’t something he could stand for. Especially with the sort of trickster Mr. Gap was, he couldn’t bear to see you get hurt. It would kill him on the inside (and on the outside, too).

So, just as you were getting into bed to rest up once more, he too, slipped in under the covers with you. At first, you were startled as usual, turning to face him with confusion evident in your eyes, murmuring out some words in a language that he still could not understand. He repeated something back, the meaning lost and indecipherable upon your ears, though soon surrendering to emphasis using gestures instead. A hug to bring you closer, a reassuring pat on your head and a small, longing kiss over your nose.

You listened to his words again, repeating over and over like a broken record.

Perhaps he meant no harm, after all.

You turned your back to him and settled into his chest, finding that he was surprisingly warm for what he was. His taller frame encased your body, wrapping his ashen arms around your waist—accidentally brushing the fabric that sat over your breast—nicking the cloth ever so slightly. Your breath hitched in surprise and as though in sheepish realisation, he withdrew right away, terrified that you were upset with him.

You drew out a long breath, reminding yourself again, that after everything that has happened thus far…

That, Mr. Crawling does not want to hurt you.

That Mr. Crawling has only ever helped you.

So perhaps, right now, Mr. Crawling only wanted to be closer to you.

You relaxed your breathing, settling into his comforting shadow once more and allowed for his presence to envelop you. He repeated the soothing motions of his grappling arm, although he held onto you softer that time. His hands explored your body with a delicate touch, as though afraid of breaking you—of upsetting you again—his motions growing confident the longer that you didn’t protest. It wasn’t long before he, otherwise not disturbed by your lacking, conscious awareness, decided to explore further with you. Mr. Crawling’s fingers didn’t ask for permission that time, creeping beneath the clinging fabric, feeling your skin against his palms, inviting a pleased, almost delighted smile to curl on his lips.

The silence remained unbroken as Mr. Crawling continued his explorative focus on you; the quickly-building evidence of his need growing harder the longer he pushed himself behind your body, the repeated touches arousing something warmer within him. To both his surprise as well as your own—you were not repulsed, allowing him to creep even lower, below the skirt of the dress and up, brushing his hand up to your exposed skin and, reading into it—you communicated your consent from the moment you parted your legs, allowing him to get even closer.

Confidence surged in Mr. Crawling as he pushed himself into your hilt, allowing his hardened length to slip inside. Betraying the stagnant silence, he shuddered out a ragged gasp before giving into his own rising need; grinding himself into your sopping sex with steadily increasing fervour. His fingers clamped around the curve of your hips as he held you in place, slamming every last inch of himself deep into your core.

Ever touch-starved yet wanting nothing more than to surrender to the sensation of you, Mr. Crawling continued to drive his cock into your needy cunt, soon wrapping his winding arms around your body and holding on tight. He bucked intensely as you soon succumbed to breathless whimpers, incoherently begging for his name. Equally desperate whines rolled off the slip of his tongue as he found his lips pressed into the crook of your neck, dampening your skin with sloppy wet kisses—as many as he could give.

It felt overwhelming for you in a way to be worshipped like this but you did your best to keep up with such intensity, especially as the warm, tingling pleasure built up inside of you, too. You held on just as tight as he did, your hand seeking out his own—fingers weaving into his bony digits—interlocking and squeezing tight the closer you got, your grip and otherwise clenching need tightening simultaneously. To feel him losing himself inside of you was dare you admit, addicting, feeling him completely fill and stretch you out leaving you almost dizzied from the impaling force.

Mr. Crawling, like you, soon surrendered to the rolling bliss from the flick of his hips, feeling a surging warmth mount and rise, encouraging him to lose himself to the searing heat of the moment and you. Encircling your body in a possessive hug, he suddenly began to mutter out a new word in a strained mantra, again and again.

Given how desperate he seemed to be, you understood the meaning as ‘close’, especially as his actions grew more stained and less controlled.

“Close, close, close,” he repeated.

It didn’t take his chased release to catch up as his hips grew to a stutter, rutting out one final pump before melting into you. Mr. Crawling cried into your neck, spilling out the entirety of his overflowing love, feeling the pent-up devotion trickle down your thighs—yet not letting you move away—still retaining his claim on you.

Instead, he kept you even closer than before, not allowing you to part from him ever again (despite understanding your yearning for rest).

Words were never the problem, it seemed.

Mr. Crawling would have always found a way to… connect with you.

[rainwaterapothecary]

"First Kisses"

#serennedyprideweek prompt: First Kiss

There were many ‘first kisses’ in a relationship as long and as strong as theirs.

Luis had started it, of course. Why wouldn’t he? He sees an attractive yanqui and is not supposed to fluster him after the American saves his life?

So with a wink and a flourish, Luis Serra had kissed the back of leather-clad knuckles before disappearing into the depths of Valdelobos. If Leon heard nothing but the ringing in his ears and felt nothing but the powerful blush coating his face and ears then that was his own business.

But so was Ashley. Right. The mission. Ashley. Adrenaline kicked in and kicked his ass onto the path that led away from the taunting Spaniard and towards the kidnapped and scared Ashley Graham.

-

Their next ‘first kiss’ was Leon’s. As the man took in the panting Spanish ex-pat who had just completed a grueling physical therapy session for his back and the nerve damage to his arms, Luis lay in a puddle of greasy hair and unattractive paleness.

Leon had never been softer for a human being in his life.

As the scientist grimaced with pain before shifting on the blindingly white hospital bed, Leon S. Kennedy leaned over him, settled one hand beside one of Luis’, and kissed him gently on the forehead.

It was the sort of thing his Nona would have done for him, but it felt right.

Luis had stars in his eyes when Leon finally pulled away and met his grin with a flicker of a smile.

-

Trading back half a year later, Luis settled his hands into Leon’s front pockets and rested his cheek on the agent’s broad shoulder. Leon smirked behind his beer but leaned into the embrace, his back safely bracketed by Luis’ chest.

“¿Qué más, Vaquero?” The scientist questioned softly, lips catching on the back of Leon’s shirt. One shoulder came up instinctively when thick, curly hair tickled his neck but Leon said nothing. He shrugged and lowered his beer can to take in the cookout in front of them.

Laughter filled the air as Claire flung a Frisbee with deadly accuracy at a STAR member who caught it out of the air and playfully chucked it back. Over by the food table, Carlos chuckled while Jill tried to get frosting out of his beard. ‘Congrats Grad!’ decorations filled the small backyard and matched the gaudy badge the president's daughter wore but Leon’s attentions were honed into the soft pair of lips that brushed against his neck.

“Careful, troublemaker.” Leon intoned, smiling into the brunette waves tucked into his cheek.

“Let them look, they should be used to trouble at this point.” The Spaniard growled cheekily beside his ear.

The agent smirked mischievously before butt-checking his partner into the nearby snack table. Luis went down cackling while the rest of the party merrily kept their eyes away from the love-lit look on Leon’s face.

*-*-*-*

A/N -

Part two will be posted tomorrow 😴 [Part 2]!

If my Spanish is wrong be kind to me the best I had was middle school-

Everybody go say thank you to the one-man mod bringing pride week to the fandom: wisecrackingeric-2!

[shamelesslymkp]

man, people get so angry about anything critical in public ao3 bookmark notes and like I get feeling hurt if it's something you come across accidentally but also that literally is a space for readers to . recommend fics to other people. and readers should be allowed to provide nuance and caveats to those recommendations without being told they're terrible people and the reason people stop writing.

like! there are many things people do that are truly terrible, like add fics to collections labeled 'absolute trash do not re-read' or whatever, which the author cannot help but see, and bookmarking a fic just to say that it's terrible and you shouldn't read it is just. honestly kind of bizarre behavior, like. I don't even understand the purpose of that beyond trying to be a jerk, tbh, but things like 'x character seemed pretty ooc but the story is excellent' is really not . a cruel thing to say to other readers.

*personally I do recommend adding a caveat like 'seemed ooc to ME' or 'ymmv' but like. that's also just my personal style of recommendations.

[satinoflowers]

Day 1 of Jon Snow fortnight: The Humble Champion ficlet

Beneath the shadow of the Wall, a laborer toils.

Of course, Jon isn’t usually a laborer. Usually around now he’d be walking the ramparts with his brothers in black, checking ballistas and defenses for cracks and restocking oil. But today Kegs had caught a vicious fever, and was quarantined in Hardin’s tower for fear of spreading his sickness amongst the crows. And Jon would be damned if a single builder couldn’t attend to his duties- there was much and more, always, to be done. 

“Lord Crow! What the hell are you doing?” Tormund stalks over from his seat, one fist full of dice and the other full of a tankard.

“I could ask you the same. Don’t you have some delegating to do?” Jon spares him a glance before bringing the hammer down, driving the rest of the nail into the log. He’s been working on a palisade for the past hour- a palisade that was due to be finished a day ago. 

“To hell with delegating, Jon. The name’s not Tormund Delegator-Slayer.” The wildling thinks for a moment. “HAR! Actually, it has a good ring t’it. I’ll add it to my list.” 

“...Right.” The lord commander wipes the sweat from his brow, which had begun to turn cold and hard.

Pounding a hammer for hours on end worked different muscles than sword fighting, and the strain in his shoulders reminded him of his tireless training as a recruit. The memory and feeling was as pleasant as a warm gust of wind… but he could only enjoy it for a moment before Tormund Talks-Too-Much interrupted.

“Come have a roll with us, lad. Take a break!” 

“Sorry, Tormund. These palisades were supposed to be done a day ago, and all the builders are delegated to other roles.” 

“You’re the Lord Commander. I’m sure you could find one gods-damned person to drive a fuckin’ nail.” Jon shakes his head and readies the next nail. 

Tormund sighs, and claps a giant hand on Jon’s shoulder. 

“Lad. The singers won’t sing songs for no builders- they’ll sing for Lord Commanders, and warriors, though. And part of being a warrior is a bit o’ gambling.”

“Someone must do it. And I never much cared for song anyways.” Hopefully that’ll convince his friend to leave him alone. 

Tormund considers this, leaning against Jon’s unfinished palisade, causing the wall to tilt awkwardly to the side. Jon has to steady the icy wood with his bare hands, contracting a splinter in the process. Damnit. Wonder how many splinters Lord Commanders Mormont or Qorgyle had in their services. 

“That seems to be your philosophy for quite a few situations.” Tormund raises a bushy eyebrow. “Lord Crow.” He shifts off the palisade and mock bows, strutting back to his friends. 

Jon watches him go for only a moment before returning to work- someone has to do it, anyways.

The Lord Commander toils beneath the shadow of the Wall.

[no-gorms]

THE FICLET!!! AMAZING!!!

---

(this one)

Thank you! I have the ficlet saved in my pc as MCU-BelligerentHanahaki.doc 😎

[andthebubbles]

er. ppl posting their bridgerton fics on tumblr make it look so.............. pro.... like, gifs or edits to go with it............ wth /intimidated

[jadeleechsupportgroup]

[ko-fi here]

ask taiga

ask romeo

ask tohma

attempt at a pinned post??

hi i'm rexii. welcome to my used car dealership. we got:

-memes (primarily twst and tokyo debunker)

-writing (i am slowly crossposting from ao3 to here but the majority of my work is over there)

-now with requests accepted!! please god give me something to write it's the only way to keep my brain in the right zip code

twst fics on tumblr (xposted on ao3)

Oneshots

Desert Rain - post-overblot jamil and azul (friendship) for @basuralindo

Closet Prison - malleus/reader - you get trapped in Malleus’s closet

An Acquired Taste - twstxblack butler - sebastian and lilia reminisce about the past

Laundry Day - tweels learn how to use a washing machine, kind of

Miniseries

Envenomate - mafia!azul/reader with octopus facts and casual homicide. for @boundlessentity

Rhapsody in Teal - jade/reader featuring awkward school dance and memory loss. it's funny tho

Collections

✨️mental unwellness✨️

🐉🎂 Bittersweet - malleus/reader platonic friendship as therapy

🐉🗡 How Not to Fall - malleus/reader platonic friendship as therapy with extra trauma and content warnings

🦇🍫 chocolate - lilia-friendship as therapy but with more of a dad spin to it

Tokyo Debunker

Oneshots

Claws - taiga/romeo - taiga wants headpats. imminently. (suggestive, not explicit)

Maestro - romeo and yuri: besties through violence and the scientific method.

Requests!! I'll gladly write you some twst and/or tokyo debunker. i have far less experience with/knowledge of black butler but I'll give it my best shot.

twst:

-favorites are JADE, azul, floyd, vil, trey, lilia, cater, malleus, jamil, riddle, leona, silver

-least favorites are rook, sebek, sebek, and sebek

-i most enjoy/am best at student x reader or shipping jade like fedex with azul, vil, or trey

-or vampire vil/damn near anyone

-jamil/fish mafia

-malleus/reader

-anything that lets me send sebek falling down a flight of stairs (I don't like that guy)

tokyo debunker

-favorites are taiga, romeo, rui, tohma, leo, jin, and ed

-least favorites are kaito and ritsu

-idk since this hasn't been out v long, send me your thoughts and we can talk

in general:

-i do a lot of AUs and messing with ages/characterizations/circumstances

-i will gladly write anything addressing mental health issues to include self harm, suicide, psychosis, etc. this is some shit i deal with too.

-love me some toxic romance

-planning to keep most of the [redacted] content on ao3 so if you want anything that I decide is too graphic I'll put it there but I can also message it to you privately.

stuff i personally don't like to write

-staff/reader

-shroudcest

-stuff with them in maid dresses

-if your request includes something not listed here (that I've forgotten) I'll let you know ♡

[thegoldenavenger]

No one reminded me to xpost this andksksm

Wingfic for ao3's lanadelareina!

[kd-heart]

tagged by @yszarin

Rules: Go to your published works on AO3 and list the first fic you ever published there, the last fic you published, any fic that you wrote for a fandom/ship only once, your favorite fic you wrote in the fandom/ship that has the most works, the fic you wish more people read, the fic you agonized over the most, the fic that sprang fully formed from your mind without any effort, and a work you are proud of—for whatever reason.

First fic published on Ao3: I'm not actually sure. I have a bunch of fics I crossposted from ffn and a few backdated ones I only recently decided to share. Tho it started on an anime forum in 2007, I'm pretty sure I finished Cinnamon and Mistletoe on AO3 after xposting from ffn. It's a Inuyasha x Yuyu Hakusho xover, Kagome/Kurama fluff about them being childhood friends separated by the stuff going on in their respective parents' lives, and now reuniting because their mothers are having a class reunion and everyone's bringing their kids along.

Last fic published: Splash of Red, a Kingmaker Histories drabble character study of one of the secondary characters.

Fandom/ship I only wrote once: There's currently 25 fandoms I've only written one fic for and I'm not going to count the ships. But one I'm particularly fond of is Picking up the pieces - post-canon fic for season 1 of Mirror Mirror, about Jo's mum having to deal with Nick being stuck in the present in the mundane ways that magic time traveling mirrors do not care about. (It's very short and doesn't go into much detail)

Favorite fic in most popular fandom/ship: The one with the disembodied penis - Supernatural crack fic crossed with 19th century Romanian literature. Team Free Will finds a semi-sentient, disembodied dick in a cursebox in the Men of Letter's bunker. Gabriel is somehow responsible for its existence. My most prolific fandom:

Fic I wish more people read: Stolen - pre-canon The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest fic about Arnaud, the vampire hunter, and his history with the vampire he's hunting. I think it mostly works without knowing the canon.

Fic I agonized over: Tales of Atlantis aka the SGA fic that never ends. We're two stories from the end of the series. I started writing this with a friend in 2010. A lot has happened in 13 years, but we will eventually finish that beast. It started as a forum RP and it grew out of control.

Fic that popped out fully-formed: Frozen - RQG fic I wrote on my way home from work after ep 174. Zoscar hurt/comfort, bc I really needed Wilde to be fine

Fic I'm proud of: In your hands, my first Kane and Feels fic, about Kane binding himself to Hana so he could safely fight off an entity that attacked his partner's subconscious.

Tagging @theothersarshi, @thriceandonce, @flammenkobold, @kristsune with no pressure and anyone who feels like doing it.

[sindirimba]

i posted my little recent ficlet on ao3 because i'm trying to be better about saving tumblr things on ao3. thus:

i just know there's stuff i've posted here that i haven't xposted on ao3 too, and it haunts me. truly.

[lilacxquartz]

Those Late Summer Nights | Chapter 20

satoru gojo x f!reader x suguru geto

plot: moving to the city from a small town was no easy feat, especially to start teaching as a jujutsu sorcerer.

a/n: part 2, aka the continuation is now in process. warning for newcomers: this is a yandere story with dark (non-con, violence) themes. read on with caution. this story does not romanticise either concept.

masterlist • ao3 • chapter directory • < previous chapter • next chapter >

20. Promise

[3 months later]

You have never been one for goodbyes, but life as it had turned out, had already forced you to do so not once, but twice already.

The first time was voluntary; when you had left your sleepy hometown and the long-haunting corrupt influence far behind. It seemed like such a good decision back then, when you at long last, had obtained that prized referral to work at one of the country’s most prestigious Jujutsu institutions. It almost seemed too good to be true, and maybe that’s because it was, because, just like everything else in your life—all of the highs had to come down—inviting the lows to linger, to fester, to… rot.

The second time wasn’t by your own choice, however, but something far, far worse. If you were being honest, you couldn’t have made sense of your situation if you tried. Forced to flee from Tokyo following an obsession that went too far, the ever-lasting consequences of summer had consumed your life to the point where you were once again left a victim of an unrequited influence out of your control.

You’ve had plenty of time to think about just how exactly it all went wrong, too, and just for a while, you were happy to appoint the self-blame. In a twisted sense, you believed that it was your fault for trying to naively infiltrate a jaded world with such fresh hope. Maybe it was wrong of you to have dreamt of a better life; maybe you should never have tried with Jujutsu to begin with. Perhaps you should have taught the ordinary future generations of today because, it wasn’t like they didn’t matter, too. They were more responsible for future cursed energy than they even knew.

…But then again, how were you supposed to know that you were going to be so entangled between… them?

It wasn’t as though you set out to ruin your own life, after all. It was out of your control from the very second you let your guard down—from the moment that you placed your trust in the two people you shouldn’t have. That couldn’t have been on you, though. Surely not.

You did suppose, however, that in some sort of twisted sense, that your return to the city (albeit against your will) could have been considered a reunion of sorts when you were met with those chilling blue eyes once more. What was once a calm blue sea guiding the way now turned out to be a violent storm—its waves dragging you into the murky depths, anchoring you within it—but not quite letting you drown, at least not yet. You instead were trapped. Imprisoned in a floating limbo, forced to endure whatever… this… all was. It was humiliating, perhaps even insulting and you berated yourself mentally every single passing day for not fighting back against Satoru fucking Gojo when he confronted you back in Osaka, but then again, that same pressing question begged your rationality once more; how exactly were you ever supposed to go against someone like him to begin with?

Someone like him, who had the entire world of Jujutsu wrapped right around his finger.

As bleak as it all sounded, as harsh as the reality reigned true; you never had a chance to begin with, did you? Whether you ran away or stayed behind—it would have likely gone this way, because… after a summer of getting to know him, you of all people knew the truth (from learning it the hard way), that Satoru Gojo always got what he wanted.

You sighed as your eyes rolled back to glare at the fluorescent-lit ceiling, the pale flickering glow straining against your eyes. It was almost comedic with how dramatically it all came undone, like it was some sort of sick joke and you were the unsuspecting punchline right at the very end. Tokyo was supposed to be your fresh start away from the monotonous flow of small-town politics and its corrupt influence, so why on earth did it follow you here, too? You did everything right, after all, you studied hard and you persevered, you earned your place in the world, and just as it all finally began to fall into place… it unraveled. It was truly as though the string that you delicately wove through the passage of life was on its last thread, destined to snap from the moment it all connected.

(There was never a chance. There was always something in the way.)

You sat up, trying to avoid the light only to catch a flash of it reflected in the sleek black tiled floors. Closing your eyes in frustration, you tried to think back to the good times. You did suppose that the city was technically everything you had otherwise fantasised it to be; loud, noisy, and bustling with endless life. It was a far cry from the watchful and prying eyes of your quaint town. There was something… special about Tokyo because you were able to simply just… disappear, as one fleeting face of many, a living ghost blurring in and out of the crowd as you had pleased, free at last.

For it to have been taken away just from the introduction of three people, was almost hilarious. It was funny how that all worked. Just three people. Three.

Shoko, bless her heart, was your first real friend who guided you into the person that you desperately yearned to be. Someone both caring yet unrestricted from the confines of a sheltered former adolescence and then, guiding you into the further depths of it all, was… them.

Ah, Suguru Geto. If only you knew, huh? You laid back down with your head now slightly throbbing with a faint aura; the beginning of a migraine. These damned lights. So brooding and mysterious he was—it was a shame that he had to turn out the way that he did—a nightmare disguised as a dream. Was it your fault for admiring him from a distance initially? Did you somehow fall victim to some sort of manipulative act, when you found his calm, almost contemplative personality to be a comfort? His suffocating presence wasn’t something you could quite predict, after all, so possessive and longing, yet somehow subtly so. To have eluded the perceptive gaze of Shoko and even Satoru was almost impressive, but unsurprising because even he managed to fool you at times. Oh, how crazy he made you feel, even for just doubting him at all.

Then there was Satoru Gojo. Ah, Satoru, Satoru, Satoru… Oh, so ever loud and energetic, Satoru… Truth be told, you found him overwhelming at first, but there was a certain quality of his that drew you in. He was good at both carrying the conversation as well as involving you within it, making you feel special when the attention landed on you for just a second and dare you say, even… validated. Just like Suguru however, he couldn’t keep up the act for very long, though, even if he did crumble last. In some ways, he was the most volatile one out of both of them, because beyond that playful facade that he let on, was something else that bubbled and simmered beneath the surface. It was hard to tell at times, but it was certainly there.

Something that wasn’t quite calm, but maybe tender. Something that was… vulnerable and whatever it was, it made him dangerous to be around.

So in the end, if you had to truly reflect, then maybe it was all three of you that were at fault.

All three of you were that were victims of losing yourself in an attempt to look for something meaningful in that endless, unforgiving city. All three of you were subjected to the quickly fleeting addiction that you could never quite hold onto, of being both seen and understood. It was no wonder that you opened up too quickly and too soon, slipping on that pair of rose-tinted glasses longer than you should have. Maybe if you took them off when you had the chance, then you too, could have been yet another passing soul in and out of their lives, but you weren’t.

You got attached and so did they, and now, for a lack of better words, it wasn’t just your life that was ruined, but theirs too. All together, the three of you floated around in an unending, aimless drift, leaving Shoko to pick up the pieces (as usual).

The migraine faded and never thankfully developed, but you still grimaced at the light that flickered all the same. He was home, but not close just yet. All of those riches that lined his pockets and he couldn’t afford to screw in a better bulb for the lights or at least opt for something warmer and less clinical. You wanted to punch that light, to let it shatter and paint the room in a much-needed night, but you couldn’t. So instead, you were illuminated and exposed, plunged into the spotlight, forced to look at the pretty little cell he had confined you to.

Such continuous misery left you wondering if your life could have been… maybe… better if you followed Suguru. In a way, you missed his pretty lies because he at least tried to offer you comfort and see you for who you truly were, but he also hurt you, so you couldn’t forgive him. Twice. He hurt you twice and yet, your mind still drifted to him at times. Why? You couldn’t make sense of it—of him—of the very same man who despite forcing you to bury your past behind and move on—surely had an issue with never letting you go, with never letting anything that ever happened to you… go.

Did this therefore make Satoru better or worse? You didn’t even know anymore. They were both equal runner-ups for the worst human being, that much was for certain. Suguru may have been involved from the start, but he was nothing like Satoru, who was always watching right from the start, more closely than you, or anyone else had ever known. Those burning blue eyes so focused yet serene, locked on you in a way that almost felt invasive. If Suguru was the storm, then Satoru must have been the cataclysm itself.

Devastating. Consequential. Unforgiving.

Indeed, you were never free.

All of the hope, all of the dreams—everything else that fell in between—none of it was ever real.

The only thing that had ever remained consistent throughout this whole experience was the part where Satoru told you that he would never, ever let you go.

The lights above you were now starting to buzz and crackle, fading in and out with every muffled thud. He was approaching. Suddenly, you regretted spending so much time reflecting on the aftermath of your life yet again, knowing that you had spent yet another day moping around, thinking of them, of him… knowing fully well that you were never truly alone.

Satoru would reunite with you every night, on clockwork, never late and always on time.

His voice was calm, always welcoming yet never inviting. You always found yourself flinching as he greeted you, wanting nothing more than to be left alone for the night. Just one night was all you asked him for—it was all you begged for at one point—for him to not talk to you, for him to not… touch you. A single night was all that you asked for, a break from having to play pretend.

“Ah, [name],” Satoru cooed, lowering an unwinding staircase that revealed a mocking glimpse of the room just above. A faint reminder of just how close the surface was, yet so inaccessible. The entrance operated on a motor, using some sort of secret code. There was a dial pad inside of the basement he kept you in as a failsafe just in case it locked him in, but try as you might to crack the code, you never guessed it right and every time you failed, it sent an alert to him. “You haven’t moved an inch from where I left you last! Didn’t I tell you about the importance of needing to stretch, even if it’s just for a minute or two a day?”

“Please just let me go,” you croaked out weakly, knowing that he wasn’t going to oblige, let alone even humour you.

Predictably ignoring your request, he walked over to you, setting down a plain white plastic bag right where you lay, strategically positioning it so that you could spot your favourite snacks and drinks poking out.

“It’s been a hell of a long day, you know,” he continued, adopting a softer tone that almost sounded hopeful, “did you miss me?”

You closed your eyes in an attempt to block him out. “You already know the answer to that one, don’t you?”

Satoru snorted a half-laugh, seeming annoyed but also amused. “You’ll have to admit it one day, [name],” he reminded, “the sooner you learn to… adapt, the sooner it’ll start to look up for you, and maybe, just maybe…” he trailed off, letting the beginning of a promise hang, “I’ll let you see your friends again, maybe I’d even let you see… him,” he paused as he said that last word, his composed demeanour ever so slightly faltering at the indirect mention of Suguru, “so, what do you say?”

You repeated the same answer you always did, “Never, Gojo,” you sighed, already expecting the worst as he took up the free seat next to you on the sofa, settling right where your head lay.

You felt a cold shocking jolt run through your body as his cold hands cupped your face, tilting your head up to meet with his longing yet intense stare. He would do such a thing on occasion, hoping that you would return even a hint of the way you once looked at Suguru before, and yet you didn’t. In your eyes, there was resentment but also, if he looked hard enough, fear.

“What have I told you about being so formal, huh?” he murmured, scoffing a little, “we’ve been over this, you’ll call me Satoru and we’re… we’re going to make this work,” he reminded you, trying to maintain his composure, “I’m not letting you go either way, so you’re going to have to drop that at some point, because like it or not, it’s not up to you how it all goes… it never has been.”

You blinked, unable to reply.

Satoru’s eyes softened for a moment, revealing a hint of internally conflicting vulnerability, maybe even traces of guilt glinting in his stare. “We’ll play pretend for as long as we have to, yeah? We’ll make all of it feel real one day.”

His words cut sharp even if it was just a reminder of something you already knew, that there was some sort of unseen force meddling in the sidelines of your life, forcing you to endure whatever life had in store for you, even if it meant pretending that it was all okay.

One thing did bother you, though.

A question that you looped over and over in the back of your mind and yet you never did dare ask him, as if afraid to hear the answer.

If he was simply fulfilling his promise to never let you go…

…Then why was he punishing you for being here?

[dngrcpckwithmurdericing]

comment fic from 2008

I accidentally ended up in a bunch of emails from early 2008, including some LJ comments, including a reply to this comment fic (amongst others, which I suddenly feel like I should post somewhere; maybe xpost AO3 and dreamwidth?); anyway, I thought I would specifically share this one because it’s Gerard/Ray but also it’s soooooooo 2008 lol.

Ray is a big believer in happily ever after. Gerard is... not so much. He thinks things that are easy aren't worth having, and it makes Ray crazy.

Ray is a big believer in happily ever after. Gerard is... not so much. He thinks things that are easy aren't worth having, and it makes Ray crazy. 

"I'm easy," he says one night, poking Gerard in the side. Gerard squirms away, but everywhere he goes, Ray's finger follows. "I'm easy AND I'm worth having."

"You're not easy," mumbles Gerard.

"What?" Ray pokes him again. "I'm totally easy."

"You are NOT. You leave hair all over the place and you -- you --"

"Uh-huh." Ray pokes Gerard's stomach one last time, just for fun, then leans in and kisses him on the neck, on the collarbone. Gerard hates the summer because his skin tans so easily, but it's a good look for him -- better than the sallowness of winter.

"Anyway, happy endings are for kids." Gerard says this into Ray's hair, so Ray can hardly hear him.

"I guess that means I'll be a good dad," Ray finally says, and sinks his teeth into Gerard's throat, and normally Gerard would whine at this, high-pitched, squirmy -- but this time Gerard freezes and pulls away, goes into the bathroom, and locks the door.

"Uh. What? What?" Ray calls, bewildered. "Do you not want kids?"

"I can't <I>have</ikids," yells Gerard through the door.

Oh. <I>Oh.</iBut -- "Are you sure?" calls Ray. He sits up against the headboard of their bed and worries at the corner of his pillow. The foam inside doesn't make the satisfying crackling noises that down pillows do, but they don't have any down pillows for him to pull at.

("Think of the <I>ducks</i>, Ray!" Gerard had said in front of the down pillow display at Target.)

Gerard opens the bathroom door and glares at Ray. "I'm a <I>boy</i>," he says scathingly.

"I... uh... realize that." Ray frowns. What the fuck? "Gerard. I meant I want to have kids with you, not with some <I>girl</i>."

"Boys can't have babies together, Ray." Gerard closes the bathroom door again, and locks it. Ray refuses to do this -- he is <I>not</ithe guy who does this. So he just lies back down on his (foam) pillows, and goes to sleep. When he wakes up the next morning, Gerard is back in the bed, being the little spoon, one hand tucked under his cheek and the other holding onto the hand Ray slung around him in sleep.

[purple-possibilities]

I think I’ve talked abt this before but the first ff I read was Harry Potter fanfiction on this site called elibs. It was used to make ad-libs, but people wrote whatever there (it ranged from fic to original writing to really kinky smut. Like some of the things my friends and I stumbled upon should not have been seen by preteens). My first fic was published there (I think I was 11 at the time, so it was pretty bad lol). Then, people would xpost their stuff on this website called xanga, which basically was like a blog website, where you’d make your own page. I had two pages up on there (one story was in Harry’s era, the other in the marauder’s). Around the same time, people were switching from elibs to quizilla, which was a site for quizzes that quickly became dominated by stories. They had to add a story section of the site bc the writing was so prolific. Again it was a mix of fic, original writing, and like crazy kinky smut. There were no rules, so people posted whatever. Then when I was like 13 a friend introduced me to ffn, and thru that I went to ao3, and then tumblr. I was posting on all those sites. I’ve thought abt posting my old works on ao3 on a dif account just bc like, while the writing is very cheesy, I am proud of my 11 year old self for doing it lol. Baby sibi was also writing original stories from even before I was able to write properly lol. If only I could get some of the mojo back…

[unforth]

@xieliansbignaturals is doing a prompt event on Mastodon and I really need to remember to xpost my microfic fills here.

Here's the first. (Hualian, canon compliant, prompt: power)

-

On reflection, Xie Lian feels the best part of being with Hua Cheng is that he doesn't need to be careful. Every day for 800 years, he's had to restrain himself: don't grab too strongly, touch too roughly, push too hard, move too fast. But Hua Cheng is his equal in power, and when it's the two of them, Xie Lian can behave as he will, can embrace, hold, thrust, kiss, touch, touch, touch.

For the first time in his long life, Xie Lian can simply be.

[lil-creatorwritings]

Summer of Smut Writing Challenge July 3: Jealousy [Ieyasu Tokugawa]

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku Pairing: Ieyasu Tokugawa x Reader Word Count: 2,211 words Prompt: Untying a bikini top Warning: Pure, unadulterated smut. There is zero plot. Also, modern!AU, cause why not. A/N: Part of @voltage-vixen ’s Summer of Smut Writing Challenge. You can check the original post for the rules and prompts if you’d like to join in as well! So, this is late. My excuse reason is that this one...took off in a really far tangent? Like how somewhere along the way, I didn't know what I was getting into and then it just came out like this. So yeah. But also no, I don't know how to write Ieyasu! This is actually my first time trying to write him and well, I hope I did him some justice because I have no beta (we die like men!!!!).

---

The sun was high up in the sky as you sat underneath the umbrella's shade, determined to build a sandcastle. Today was a lovely day to spend at the beach, enjoying the clear waters and summer breeze. The only reason you were here was because of your lover and the company he worked for. Their latest project had been a huge success and the CEO had arranged this extravagant trip as a reward for their hard work. Fortunately, since they were allowed to invite one guest per member, you were able to tag along.

Though you've only met Ieyasu's co-workers a few times before, usually when the company conducted social events, everyone was quite friendly and welcoming. You were thankful that a few of them had also brought their girlfriends, which made it less awkward knowing that you weren't the only female in this group of men. Plus, you were always up to meeting new people.

"Ah, so this is where you were."

You looked up to find Masamune standing behind you. He was Ieyasu's second in command so to speak and also one of his long time friends since their college days. You've known him since the two of you started dating and eventually become one of your good friends as well.

"Where's Ieyasu? I would've thought that he was with you."

"He went off somewhere, but I'm sure he'll be back soon."

He sat down across from you and smiled. "And left such a pretty girl like you all alone? That's not very nice of him."

"Instead of flattering me, you should help me build this castle. I've always wanted to make one."

Together, the two of you worked to make the sandcastle of your dream. While you were trying to make it taller, you could feel your halter top sliding around a bit every time you extended your arms. Even though you tried to discreetly keep it in place, you were worried that the knot could have loosened from your movements. Looking around, you searched for the nearest changing area or bathroom you could use.

Masamune had immediately noticed your discomfort and paused. "Hm? Something wrong?"

"Yeah, just... Will you excuse me for a bit? I think I need to fix my top."

"I can tie it for you if you're okay with that." He offered, dusting the sand off his hands. "It'll be faster that way, plus we don't want you getting lost in the crowd like that. Or I can walk with you back to the hotel if you want."

You thought about it but you didn't want to just disappear on Ieyasu like that. "Do you mind fixing it for me?"

Nodding his head, he moved behind you as he undid the ribbon you made. You could barely feel his fingers, clutching your top close to your chest as he worked with the strings. Once he was done you slowly raised your arms as a test, happy to see that it wasn't shifting around anymore. "Thanks Masamune!"

"That should hold it throughout the rest of the day, as long as you don't get up to more exciting activities." He said with a suggestive tone.

"Oh shut up, will you." You were used to his antics by this point, laughing as you shook your head. "Come on, help me finish this before Ieyasu comes back."

"Alright, alright. You're quite bossy, aren't you."

By the time you were satisfied with how it looked, you spotted Ieyasu approaching the two of you. You stood up and brushed the sand off your legs, smiling at him as he studied the structure by your feet. "Ah, so this is what you were doing while I was away."

"Yup! I've always wanted to make one of these and Masamune came over to help me with it."

There was a strange expression you saw on Ieyasu's face, but it was so brief that you weren't really sure if it had been there. After taking a photo with it as a remembrance, the two of you headed back to your hotel room for a rest while Masamune went off on his own. You hadn't realized how much actual work it was until you were done, even if you did have some help. Plus the sun was getting too high in the sky, which also meant that it was getting too hot and you didn't want to get any sunburns.

He sat down on the bed and started to open his phone. "You go ahead and shower first. I can wait for you."

You grabbed your clothes and headed to the bathroom, shutting the door behind you as you reached behind your neck. After a few frustrating moments of fiddling around with the strings to no avail, you used the mirror sink to check what was going on. It was quite a dilemma--the top strings were tied to each other and so were the ones on your sides, but what you didn't expect was for the extra length from those two to be connected together with another knot. There was no way you could remove that on your own without needing to cut it, so you decided to ask for help. "Hey Ieyasu, can you help me with this? I can't remove the knot."

"What do you mean you can't?"

"Well... You'll understand when you see it.

"With a quizzical look on his face, he put his phone away and came close, turning you around so he could take a look. The surprise was evident in his voice. "Why did you haphazardly tie it like it? Or rather how did you even manage to do this?"

It had stumped you as well, recalling if anything strange had happened today until it came to you. "Oh! It's Masamune's fault!"

"How is this his fault?"

"Well when we were building the sandcastle together, he helped fix the knots because I said it felt loose. I didn't think that this was what he would do." You pouted, wishing that you had done it yourself instead. "I swear, his hobby is nothing but playing pranks on people."

Silence. You thought that maybe he was busy concentrating, feeling his hand caress your back every now and then. As much as you wanted to avoid cutting it, you would have no choice if it was too difficult to untangle. Waiting for a response, you stood there for a while before speaking. "Ieyasu? We can just snip it if it's too troublesome."

"That's careless of you to let another man do that for you."

The dismay in his tone confused you. "This is Masamune we're talking about here. Do you really think he'd try anything weird with me?"

"You're so clueless. Do you ever stop to think about how your actions look like to other men?" He wrapped his arms around your waist, trapping your arms to your sides. One of his hands cupped your breast, massaging it as he nipped on your neck. You bit your lip when his fingers teased your nipple, making you shudder when he gave it a gentle tug.

"They can get the wrong impression from you if you're not careful." His voice was gruff, lips pressing warm kisses on the back of your neck. You felt your top slide down as it fell to the floor, gasping when his warm hand caressed your bare chest. "When something catches their interest, they'll relentlessly chase after it until it's theirs and won't let go of it."

Though his words were rough, his actions were the complete opposite. You tilted your head and called his name softly, knowing full well that he would look at you--and he did. His emerald eyes told you what you already knew. "Even so, that doesn't matter to me. Because you're the only one I want, Ieyasu."

As soon as you finished your words, he maneuvered you down on the bed, laying on your back as he hovered over you. Discarding his shirt, he claimed your lips in a hungry kiss, nipping and tugging on your lower lip for permission. You parted them to let his tongue sip inside, deepening the kiss as he made quick work of your bottoms. The last of his clothes soon followed, tossing it away somewhere on the floor.

Fingers stroked your clit in circles, making you jerk up for more. Sliding them further down to tease at your entrance, he slipped inside you and began to thrust. You moaned into his mouth as you moved your hips in time with his hand, trembling when he curled them and found your sweet spot. Pulling away a bit, you noticed his cheeks were a pretty shade of red while his eyes watched you with intense longing.

You reached to wrap your arms around his neck, holding his gaze as you spoke with unabashed desire. "I'm completely yours, so take me."

His eyes widened in surprise as his fingers slowed down. It had looked like he wanted to say something but instead kissed you tenderly, communicating the gentle affection he has for you. You responded back with just as much love you had for him, hoping to chase away the doubts he had.

Easing his fingers out, he rubbed himself along your slick entrance before pushing inside of you, groaning against your skin as your walls squeezed around him. You crossed your legs behind him and rolled your hips up, letting out a sharp gasp when he filled you. With his thumb languidly stroking your clit, he began to thrust at a steady pace. Your body trembled with need as he took his time loving you, sucking on your neck to leave his mark.

It was so much but you wanted more of him, digging your heel into his back as you whimpered. "Ieyasu... please..."

The increased pressure on your sensitive nub made you clamp around his cock, crying out when he moved faster. His free hand slipped behind your waist and hoisted you up, giving him the leverage to reach deeper. With each push you were closer to coming undone, moaning his name with urgency as you gave yourself over to the pleasure, unraveling in his arms. He held you as his movements became unsteady, groaning as he pumped inside you after a few more thrusts.

Ieyasu didn't let go as the two of you took the time to catch your breaths. He slowly lied down on his side, bringing you with him as well before gently easing himself out of you. Lifting his head to look at you, he reached his hand up and caressed your cheek. Even if he didn't say anything, the look on his face had told you everything.

The weekend passed by quickly and before you knew it, it was time to leave. As everyone waited for the van to come around, Masamune came over and hooked his arm on Ieyasu's shoulder. "Man, this trip was real fun wasn't it?"

You nodded. "Mhn. It was a nice break from all the bustle in the city too."

"The huge slide by the water park was the best though. Did you guys try that?"

"No. We had no time to." Ieyasu retorted before his phone rang, taking it out of his pocket to see who it was. He swatted the older man's arm off him before walking off to answer the call. "Nobunaga's calling me. I'll be right back."

"Sure, take your time."

When he left, you noticed that Masamune was looking at you curiously. You tilted your head. "Hm? Is something wrong?"

"No time, huh.." He rubbed his chin before casting his gaze away. "I suppose the two of you were too busy with some other exciting activities in the hotel, weren't you?"

You looked away in hopes that he didn't notice your blush, but the proof was in your silence. Laughing, he reached out to playfully mess with your hair, mentioning the nearby mirror for your hair before walking away. Although you could easily fix it without needing one, you decided to approach it.

When you looked at yourself in it, Masamune's stare now made sense. Your shirt was certainly enough to cover the hickeys that were below your neck as long as you didn't lean over. The ones on the side of your throat, however, were definitely visible with your current hairstyle. You quickly combed your hair down, hoping that no one else had noticed.

Soon enough, you were on your way back home with everyone else. Ieyasu sat beside you, typing something on his phone before asking. "Hm? Why did you put your hair down?"

"Oh. Well, I think it looks better this way, don't you think?"

"Hm. You look fine either way." Reaching his hand out, he trailed a finger down your throat, gently tracing over the marks he made. The simple gesture made you shiver as he leaned in closer, whispering in your ear. "Although, you look best when you're smiling.."

You smiled, tilting your head to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. He blushed and looked away to hide his face, turning his attention to the window. You giggled and rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes and savoring the warmth of his sweet words.

[yukizakii]

finale

He hates him. He should hate him, but he doesn't. Because this is Kondou’s Shinsengumi that he entrusted to Hijikata, he must protect Hijikata. It has to end this way.

Souji's final moments, and his relationship with Death.

It has to end this way, is what he thinks as he tightens the ripped, dirty strips of cloth around his hand. He bites down on the cloth to hold it in place as he wraps it again around the hilt of his sword, tasting the dirt and blood from the road and battles fought before. It’s unpleasant, and for a moment his stomach seems to want to lurch and cough, but he pushes it down and clenches his teeth to pull the cloth tighter. It doesn’t matter anymore.

All that’s left is for him to die.

Souji isn’t afraid of death, hasn’t been for years. As a child, he had been afraid. He feared the death that had taken away his parents, and forced his sister, Mitsu, to grow up faster than she should have. After his parents’ passing, he had cried for months on end out of fear of Enma, the god of the afterlife, who would surely spirit him away as well. Yet as he had listened to the whispers behind closed doors in his home, his fear had been replaced with guilt. Souji had been young, but he was old enough to be able to draw his conclusions when he heard the tone of voice that came with the words burden and a waste of space. Afterwards, Souji simply felt nothing towards death other than acceptance that he too would meet that same fate someday, and perhaps for the better.

How wrong he had been.

Death was a blessing to him, a fortune. Death had stolen away his parents, but instead it bequeathed meaning into his life: to protect those who he cared the most. What a far cry he was from the hopeless child that had first arrived at the doorstep of the Shieikan, holding his wooden sword devoid of passion. Death was what had led him to Kondou, to begin training at the Shieikan as a live-in student and to find his purpose: To live to kill and be the Shinsengumi’s sword. The more that he wielded his sword and swore to follow the path of a warrior, the more that he realized how much death seemed to intertwine itself in every aspect of his life.

Perhaps Death was a blessing, but it certainly was not kind. When Souji had heard the word tuberculosis escape Dr. Matsumoto’s mouth, his first reaction was to laugh. He had been unable to stop, despite knowing how crazy he must have looked from an outside perspective. Surely this was karma, for the dozens of men he had killed on the battlefield without remorse. How especially thoughtful of Death to try and send him off by withering off his life force with each bloody cough. What mockery it was that the men Souji had killed would live vicariously until the last moment, but Death would not allow him the same grace.

Well, Death could try to take him down like that, but he wasn’t going to win. Death could go fuck itself if it thought it could make him go quietly. To live as a warrior was to walk the line of life and death every day, not knowing what would come next. Souji had embraced the adrenaline that came with the thought of potentially dying every time he raised his sword against another man. He loved the rush he got every time a blade got dangerously close to his face, or the feeling of his lungs heaving as he desperately tried to catch his breath in-between skirmishes. To die as a warrior would be an honor, and wouldn’t it be the most fitting for him to die on the battlefield, just as he had killed so many others?

Mitsu, he thinks, would be disappointed in him. Sad, even. But she will never know, and for the better; he knows that she has her own life and family to worry about during the war. She never did, and never will understand the lifestyle that her young brother chose to live. Souji had kept in touch with his sister sparingly throughout the years, but eventually he had stopped writing truths to her. His last letter a month ago indicated that he was fine, healthy, and participating in the Koyo Chinbutai with the remaining members of the Shinsengumi. He hopes that she will be happy with her life.

Kondou had written a letter to Mitsu as soon as he learned of Souji’s diagnosis, but Souji had been clever enough to have Chizuru intercept it for him. Chizuru-chan, can you offer to take Kondou-san and Hijikata-san’s mail today? Just say that you’re going on rounds with Sano. But give me Kondou-san’s mail. If you don’t do it, I’ll kill you. He remembers her round face staring back at him with confusion, before her features settled into one of sadness and understanding. Within a few hours the letter had been tossed into the fire as its final recipient, Chizuru watching him in silence.

Oh, little Chizuru. Frankly, she shocked him with her kind and selfless demeanor, even in the face of tragedy and death. He had expected her to instantly crumble like a child after witnessing what would be a series of nightmares to any other person, but it seemed that she stood with her back straighter with every harrowing adventure they went through. She was certainly one of, if not the strongest women that Souji had ever met. He thinks ruefully of the day they had first met—that innocent expression on her face had been unforgettable. He remembers the satisfying clink of the weight of his sword shifting as he had pointed it straight at her, and her eyes that seemed almost too large for her face fixating on the sharp tip. What a pity that I might have to kill such a cute little woman, he remembered thinking. But the last time Souji had seen her, he had been shocked by how much she had changed. She had chased after him with a stubbornness and determination that could have only grown out of pain and suffering. Her face had thinned as she had matured and grown, and he noticed that her eyes no longer had the innocent gleam from years before. Gone was that timid girl from that snowy night in Kyoto, replaced by a woman who had seen hurt and death and yet still raised her sword against enemies with them with unwavering loyalty.

That person is lucky to have her by his side.

Being in the Shinsengumi had changed them all more than they could have ever imagined. Souji and the Shieikan crew had always dreamed of being real warriors, but dreams could not have prepared them for reality. Kenjutsu practices turned to fights to the death, and bruises from wooden swords turned into nasty wounds that required stitches. Rumors, petty fights, and politics became daily roadblocks that they were forced to become accustomed to. The introduction of the Ochmizu and Rasetsu was perhaps the worst of all. But no matter how difficult things became, Kondou had remained kind and soft with every man and soldier, just as he had treated Souji as a student at the Shieikan. It was Kondou’s kindness, heart and unrivaled warrior spirit that made him a fitting leader of the Shinsengumi. Unlike that man.

That man, Souji thinks. That man’s name makes his blood want to boil, and when he thinks of his name now he subconsciously clenches his fist. Selfish, bilious, rude, and a man who had left Kondou to die.

But if Kondou had been the head of the Shinsengumi, Hijikata was the backbone and the spine that held it together. Kondou was a skilled orator and had the charisma and presence of a leader, but he was a gentle romanticist who liked to consult the books. On the other hand, Hijikata was all sharp edges and pragmatic, and a genius when it came to creating strategies that were critical to success. Even in the early days of the Shieikan, Hijikata had always been unyielding and harsh, allowing no one to talk down his dreams of hanging up his medicine box and taking a sword. When the opportunity had come to leave Edo and journey to Kyoto to join the Roshigumi, Hijikata had been the first to pull together the crew to plan their departure and involvement.

The Shieikan was where he grew up, but it was the Shinsengumi that became his home. When Souji thinks of the words family, he thinks of the Shinsengumi—and it is a family built by Kondou. For that reason alone, the Shinsengumi had been worth laying down his life for, all of these years. Souji thought himself as nothing more than a sword, and it was an honor to kill and bring death upon those that threatened the Shinsengumi’s progress. But beyond the skirmishes and public work associated to their name, there was a man who had shouldered burden after burden and rallied day and night for their success. The Shinsengumi and Kondou only rose to where it was today, because of Hijikata’s drive and leadership.

Souji knows that without Hijikata, there is no Shinsengumi. And because this is Kondou’s Shinsengumi that he entrusted to Hijikata, he must protect Hijikata. It has to end this way.

I heard that Hijikata Toshizou is staying in the inn in the next town over. Looks like he’s injured and only has one other companion with him. This will be an easy kill.

He hates him. It’s his fault that Kondou died, so he should hate him. He hates him, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t hate him. Though he would never admit it out loud, Hijikata has always been like a brother to him. A bitter and sour one for sure, but like a brother nonetheless. When Souji had fallen ill, Hijikata had somehow always been the first one to scold him to go back to bed and to order Chizuru to make him medicine or soup. Souji had teased him—What are you, a mother bird hovering over her hatchlings? Really, you don’t have to seem so worried about me, Hijikata-san. Despite their constant bickering and harsh words throughout the years, Souji knows that he is a gentle, caring man beneath the demon-like exterior. But more than that, he knows that Hijikata loves the Shinsengumi more than anyone else.

Souji does not have much time left to give to the Shinsengumi, but Hijikata does. Souji cannot allow him to die. It has to end this way.

The lamps go off from the enemy, and he is alerted back to the present from his thoughts. He lets go of the cloth from his teeth, and drops his arms to his side. His right hand is now his sword—fitting now, that his body is now one with his sword. He closes his eyes, and breathes in the fresh night air. He lets his mind go blank, and draws on the power stored within his body to turn him into a Rasetsu. For the first time in months, he feels the air and power rush through his lungs and fill every space in his body with unbound strength; tuberculosis suddenly feels like nothing but a distant memory.

In the face of Death, he feels more alive than ever.

He steps into the moonlight, and hears murmurs from the men as they look at him. Gunshots whiz through the air, but he sidesteps them so easily. He hears the familiar Who the hell are you being shouted into the night, and his lips curl into a smile. Would these be his last words? How fitting, because he would absolutely love nothing more.

“My name is Okita Souji, the 1st captain of the Shinsengumi!”

Tonight, for the last time, he will be the Shinsengumi’s sword. Okita Souji smiles, and allows himself to fall into the familiar embrace of the battlefield.

Goodbye, Hijikata-san.