#you know how you could have still done this plot?

[bruhstories]

Bet IV

p.1 here & p.2 here & p.3 here

mandatory mdni because things will start to get heated up in the following chapters.

summary: you're starting to feel things for the man who hired you to take care of his cat. but he's only being nice. that's it and nothing more. pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader’s background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent, domestic violence (reader gets slapped by her uncle), veeeery slow burn, reader's dad is dead w/c: 2.1k

a/n: if you would like to be tagged for the next part, please check this post! thank you for reading! please remember that if you asked to be tagged but i can't find your age on your blog, you will NOT be tagged. there will be smut and people dying lol.

"Where were you last night?"

You sighed at your uncle's question, sick and tired of explaining the same thing over and over again. He woke up earlier than he should have, especially for a man who worked night shifts at a warehouse. He did it on purpose, just to have more reasons to pick on you, and you knew that all too well. You lived through that hell for the past ten years.

"I told you, I was cat sitting." 

"Cat sitting." He repeated with derision in his voice. "You need to get a real job."

"I have two real jobs." You reminded him, and it took all your willpower not to raise your voice at him.

"Where's the money, then? Huh?" Your uncle grabbed you by the wrist, twisting it backwards.

"I'm getting paid today!"

"How much?" 

"660,326!" You cried out as his fingernails dug deeper into your skin.

"I better see that money on my nightstand by tomorrow morning." He let go of your wrist. "Keep the change."

How generous, you thought, rubbing the crescent-shaped dents in your skin. At least he didn't hit you, but your small victory crumbled when he turned on his heels, smacking you with the plastic fly swatter in his hand. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

You didn't cry, not in front of him. Never in front of him. 

But when you stepped through the doors of Mr. Hwang's penthouse, the dam broke, and tears streamed down your cheeks. They burned when they touched the cracked, swollen skin, courtesy of your uncle, but you still smiled at the sight of Eunjoo.

Instead of waiting next to the water bowl, like she had done before, the cat jumped on the countertop, her paw gently touching your wrist, where the imprinted dents of his fingernails were still visible. You didn't know why, but Eunjoo's gesture made you cry harder, heavy tears falling onto her plate. 

"Good kitty." You sobbed, daring to pet her, and she allowed it, nuzzling your hand for the first time since you met her.

Without wasting a single moment, you took out your phone to take a selfie of you and Eunjoo, and sent it to In-ho, with the caption 'Making progress!' You thought he might be happy to see her slowly lower her guard and get attached to you.

Who hurt you?

Stupid. How could you be so stupid to send a selfie when your cheek was grazed and puffy? Of course Mr. Hwang would ask about it, he was a nice man, one whose kindness you didn’t think you deserved.

I accidentally walked into a lamppost! Silly, right?

Hoping that the lie would be convincing enough, you carried on with your tasks after eating with Eunjoo, and to your surprise, it worked. It fooled him, but you weren’t proud of yourself in the slightest. 

You need to be more careful next time. If anything happened to you, who would take care of Eunjoo until I return?

It shouldn't have hurt reading his reply, and yet your heart ached. What did you expect? You were an employee, he obviously wanted his cat to be safe, not you. And how could someone like him even care about someone you? You came from different worlds that could never intertwine.

I will.

No thank you, no sad face — you were bitter, even though, rationally, you had no reason to be. Besides, you lied to him in the first place. Maybe if you told him the truth, he would have sent a different reply. It didn't matter. In less than five days he would come back, pay you and never speak to you again. Just like all rich people did.

You cleaned the bathrooms that morning, scrubbing the bath tubs, the toilets, the sinks and the floors until your fingertips stung and your head pounded from the bleach fumes. The vibration of your phone startled you, and you wiped your hands to check the notification.

Have I upset you?

Okay, maybe he did care. Or maybe he was just very observant and noticed your monotonous reply.

Not at all, I just have a lot on my mind. I'm sorry that you worried about me, or that I seemed upset! You're right, I need to be more careful next time.

Please don't take this the wrong way, miss, but I've never met anyone who apologised for making me worry about them. You're quite special.

You did a double take when you read Mr. Hwang's reply, and a wave of remorse crushed your heart. The man was too nice for you to lie to him, but you didn't want him involved in your family affairs, either. There was a strong internal conflict within you, a battle between honesty and dishonesty, but for the time being, dishonesty won, no matter how disgraceful it was.

Choosing not to reply, as time was ticking and the Abduls would be waiting for you soon, you swiftly finished tidying up the bathrooms and put away all the cleaning products so Eunjoo couldn't get to them. With the automatic feeder full, fresh water in the bowl and litter boxes clean, you left.

In all fairness, you didn't know what to reply to his text. No one called you special before, except for that one guy you dated who only wanted to sleep with you, and unfortunately succeeded. It wasn't your proudest moment, but you moved on since then. You stared at the text, typing a reply, then deleting it, then typing again, and you did that for the duration of the entire bus ride back to Guryong Village. By the time you knocked on Ali's door, you still hadn't come up with a response.

What could you even say? Thank you? Likewise? I'm sorry I lied to you, my uncle slapped me with the fly swatter? No. In telling the truth, Mr. Hwang would pity you, perhaps even offer you more money, or food, or clothes, and you didn't want to be pitied. You wanted your hard work to be recognised, not to use your social status or depressing background as an excuse.

Mrs. Abdul couldn't feed you that day, and that was fine. They needed to prioritise themselves, since they didn't live any better than you. Luckily, you saved enough money to buy a kimbap roll for lunch and a bag of rice crackers for dinner and breakfast. Resourcefulness was, perhaps, your strongest point and the reason you survived for so long.

The theme park was packed with tourists and locals, gathering to watch the parade, and you took the time to entertain children and take pictures with them, always on your feet, always working. Back in the dressing room, you took the comically large mascot head off, sweat dripping down your face and neck. Summers were worse — there were body parts you didn't think could sweat.

"Excuse me, Y/N?"

You looked up from your seat to a man around your age, a coworker named Donghyun. He had worked there for a few months or so, but you barely spoke.

"Yes?" You smiled, resting your elbows on the mascot head in your lap.

"We're getting paid today, and a few of us are going for drinks after work. I was wondering if you would like to come." Donghyun avoided looking into your eyes, nervously pinching the soft fur of his own mascot.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, but I have another job I need to get to. Maybe another time."

"Yeah, another time." He nodded. "Hey, could I get your number?"

"Why would you want my number?" You laughed, immediately pursing your lips when Donghyun frowned. "Sorry, yeah, of course I'll give you my number!"

You were such a people pleaser, it was ridiculous, but he seemed to feel better after saving your number in his phone. And there was no harm in making new friends.

"I'll text you later." Donghyun nodded with a smile and left.

What a strange interaction, you thought. It wasn't unusual for men to like you — you were pretty, smart, funny — but you just weren't interested in any of them. In fact, it was their age and maturity that didn't appeal to you. They acted like prepubescent pricks, trying to impress anything with a vagina and a pretty face by being obnoxious and loud and downright irritating.

Older men were different. They had manners, they were respectful and caring. They knew how to dress, knew how to speak to women, kind of like Mr. Hwang.

Oh. 

God, you needed to forcibly remove that thought from your mind before it spiraled into something worse. In-ho probably wanted nothing to do with you — no, he definitely didn’t want anything to do with you. He was just a nice gentleman who happened to not be married. Maybe he had a girlfriend that didn't live with him. Or maybe he worked so much he couldn't afford a relationship. 

Maybe he murdered people.

You laughed at that ridiculous idea — no one in their right mind would do that, especially not Mr. Hwang. He had a cat, for God's sake. Murderers usually killed animals, surely he was just a normal man with a lot on his mind, a workaholic, or a hermit.

Walking into your boss' office, you received your pay and counted the money — 662,326. You got more than you should've, completely forgetting about the pay rise. Your uncle didn't need to know about that, and you took the extra 2,326 and hid it in a small pocket inside your backpack, along with other money you saved. Unbeknownst to him, you secretly opened a savings account in the hopes that one day you would be able to leave and rent your own place, but you only had 1,094,463.60 won, which was barely enough to cover the deposit.

One day. One day you would leave all that abuse behind and have a fresh start. But today was not that day. 

Back in Gangnam-gu, you entered the penthouse earlier than normal and dropped your bag on the floor next to your worn and torn boots. You were hoping they would last through winter because you really couldn't afford a new pair. Eunjoo ran to greet you for the first time, and your heart was filled with joy at the sight of the cat rubbing against your leg. She was growing on you, and you soon realised how much you'd miss her when Mr. Hwang returned. Perhaps he'd let you visit her. 

You turned the TV on and played some songs by ABBA, the sadness of the morning gone, replaced only by joy and optimism. Things would turn out well, you just knew it. You grabbed In-ho's black clothes and placed them in the washing machine, all the while dancing to the beat of Money, Money, Money. It was a song you related to, but you didn't want to find a wealthy man. You just wanted to have enough money to survive without your uncle.

"It's a rich man's world." You sang to Eunjoo, who wiggled her butt, playfully attacking your feet. 

"All the things I could do if I had a little money, kitty. I would get my own apartment, I would donate to orphanages and charities. Oh, don't look at me like that." You frowned when Eunjoo stared at you judgmentally. "I would! There are people out there who need help. But you know what I would get for me? A hotteok! Ah, I would kill for that cinnamony goodness."

You placed the food on the floor and opened the pack of rice crackers. 

"My dad got me a hotteok on my seventh birthday. It was the best birthday ever and- oh my God, I'm talking to a cat." Laughing at the sudden realisation, you shook your head in disbelief. "Well, you're probably my only friend anyway. You don't judge me. You don't care if I'm rich or poor. You just listen and eat. Oh!"

Good evening, Mr. Hwang! Could I ask what your favourite dish is?

You decided that would be your gift. Cooking wasn't your strongest skill, but you were confident in yourself. And who didn't want to come back to a hot home-made meal? Maybe he liked jajangmyeon, or jjigae, or something sweet, like chapssaltteok. The possibilities were endless.

Beef Wellington. Why?

Your heart sunk to your stomach. Beef fucking Wellington? How on Earth could you even afford all the ingredients? The tenderloin itself was probably over 65,000 won. But you were going to do it for him, regardless of what it cost. You felt that Mr. Hwang deserved it. 

I was hoping to cook it for you when you returned. I'll admit, I didn't think it would be such a... fancy dish, but I'm sure I can manage. 

Have you tried it before?

I'm afraid not. Is it good?

Exquisite. You'll have to stay and try it when I return, yes?

Chewing on your bottom lip, your heart skipped a beat at his request. You knew he was just being nice, but you couldn't stop the sudden burning desire to just obey. 

Yeah, I'll stay. 

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[lieslab]

And at last I see the light

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Minho X gn reader

Summary: Half-delirious and sick, you randomly tell Minho about your dream proposal and he takes notes.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2.5K

A/N: I'm sappy and emotional. This was definitely inspired by Tangled. What can I say? I'm just a girl who cries easily and thinks about love a lot. Can a girl not ponder? Anyway, if you get choked up at proposals, grab a tissue or two.

_ _ _

The simple conversation was so long ago that you forgot about it. It was a brief moment in passing, just another random conversation, but Minho didn’t forget it. In fact, he’d been planning since then. 

“If I were to propose to you, where would you want it and how would you want it done?” 

The two of you were on opposite ends of the couch. Your body was heavy with the weight of a random stomach bug. Through the stomach aches and nausea, you were fading in and out of consciousness. Minho wanted to take you to your shared bed, but you refused. Too worried about making him sick, you opted to stay on the couch. 

Every time he came close to you, you stubbornly held your breath and threatened to make yourself pass out. It was dramatic, but it wasn’t unusual for you, you always were. Too afraid of giving him the same bug, you did your best to keep your distance. 

You didn’t get the exact wish you were hoping and praying for. At some point, you fell asleep and he covered you in a thick fleece blue blanket. A kiss was planted to the top of your sleeping temple before he strolled back over to the couch. He curled up on the other side and kept an eye on you. 

The television was already on, but he twitched the show to something silly with cartoon characters. You needed your rest and he didn’t want you to wake up and stress out your brain by trying to follow along with a half-over plot. He picked out the most childish show and let it play. 

When you woke up, you awoke to dancing shadows and the gentle vibrations of the leather couch. Across the way, Minho couldn’t help, but laugh at something that a character said. He grinned and kept his eyes on the flickering screen. 

You caught his attention when you sleepily uttered his name. He quickly lowered the volume, got up, and rushed to get you water. You still refused to let him be too close, so all he could do was keep his distance and observe your stubborn self. 

The conversations didn’t have a steady theme. He talked about one thing and then another. You jumped from topic-to-topic with him. You were about ready to fall asleep again when he asked you that question. 

“Tangled,” you mumbled. 

His eyebrows pinched together and he studied your face. Your sleepy eyes were half-lidded and a yawn tugged your mouth into a small o-shape. A smile grew on half of his face and he asked for clarification. 

“The scene where Rapunzel and Flynn are in the gondola with the flying lanterns.” 

“What about it?” 

“Maybe not the gondola, but with the flying lanterns.” You nuzzled your head back against the cool leather. “I’ve always thought they were beautiful. It’d be the perfect memory.” 

“You think so?” 

“I know so, but you can’t propose to me when I’m sick. I don’t feel good and I think I’d throw up on your shoes. I think the lights would somehow make me nauseous.” 

“You poor, poor thing,” he teased you. 

“Mmhm. Poor me.” Your eyes slipped shut and you let out a sigh. He watched you slowly drift back to sleep with the cartoons long forgotten about. His brain went into overdrive that night. 

Loving Minho was the easiest choice you ever made. From his quick wit to his loudness, it was the best choice. Not a single soul could compare and it was something you tried not to take for granted. 

Whether it was arguing about who deserved the last pudding, or sitting in silence while Minho laid on your lap, your love was so simple. Life went on and the conversation erased from your brain, but it didn’t stop you from having moments when you watched him with a soft fondness. 

Your body relaxed and inside your chest, your heart stuttered as your brain tried to capture those little moments. Sometimes, it was as simple as him leaning over the stove and stirring whatever dish he was trying to make. Other times, it was when he was bare faced and stretched out on the couch with one of his cats upon his lap. 

His messy hair poked out in every direction from running his hand through it. After dance practice, his muscles ached and he just wanted to sit down and take a bit of time to relax. You usually joined him and crept over, snuggling beneath his arm to keep him warm. He’d whine and complain of your sudden presence, but he never pulled away. 

He liked when you wrapped your arms around his torso and pressed a soft kiss against the side of his neck. Just as you grew fond of him, he grew smitten with you. He joked that his love for you was like a pesky bunion that just wouldn’t go away. 

Meanwhile, you compared it to wild mushrooms. You could try to stop loving him, but the love would keep sprouting up. Just when you thought there was nothing more to love, you’d turn your back for a brief moment and glance back to find another thing to love; another mushroom sprouted through damp soil. 

Everything was warm and bright. In your eyes, everything was right and as the days turned into weeks, when those weeks burrowed into months, and began to roll into years, Minho knew he had you forever. He was going to take advantage of your sleepy-sick state and put his plans into action one day, but it never seemed like the right time. The two of you were always busy and time kept going, your love was an endless sea, but he wanted to make it truly official. 

That wish came true when spring unveiled itself. With the chirping birds and baby bunnies, there was finally going to be a lantern festival. Rejuvenation, rebirth, and earth’s restoration; the perfect time to take the next step in your relationship. 

“Wear something nice.”

“I always wear something nice.” 

“Your constant state of sweatpants and hoodies says otherwise.” 

“Fuck off!” 

He just wanted you to look back at the video and be content with what you were wearing. The lantern festival was a rarity and you already had your best outfit picked out. You went through the entire routine of making yourself look good and then put it on. 

It was a miracle that you didn’t notice the bouncing of his non-driving leg. He shifted in the seat a few times, but your nose was pressed against the passenger’s seat glass. You were going on and on about how excited you were for the festival, you always wanted to attend one. 

You were unaware that the fate of your relationship sat in a small square box in Minho’s pocket. The weight of it in his pocket wasn’t much, but tonight, it felt like the ring he picked out was a thousand pounds. He kept glancing over at you and imagining what your face would look like. If it was ugly, he would be sure to tease you about it. 

The two of you arrived twenty minutes before the lanterns were set to be released. Finding a parking space was difficult, but by some miracle, he managed to find an empty space to squeeze his car into. He grabbed your hand and headed to the area to grab a lantern. 

“Are you getting one too?” You asked, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet. 

“No, I just want to watch you light and release yours. You’ve been wanting this, right? It’s your night to shine.” 

“Well, yeah, but I thought you were going to do it with me.” You frowned and couldn’t hide the disappointment from your voice. 

“Just don’t worry about it, have your fun.” 

After grabbing the paper lantern with a tea light white candle tucked inside, Minho handed it to you. “Remember that you only get one wish, so use it well.” You playfully slapped his shoulder and took the lantern. 

“Maybe I should wish for you to stop being a pain in my ass.” 

“In your dreams.” 

With one hand on the lantern and one hand in Minho’s, you began to lead him through the thicket of people. It seemed like everyone wanted to light and release a lantern too. Maybe it was the same reason as you, people wanted to make a wish. For others, it was a way to remember specific people and other loved ones. 

No matter what the reason was, it made your heart swell with happiness. How human was it to long for peace? People had done this since the beginning of time and tonight wasn’t anything new. 

Little did you know, Minho’s friend was tracking his location. The location sharing app had the exact path they were taking. A few people away, he silently followed with quiet footsteps. In his hand, the phone that’d be used to catch the proposal. 

You wiggled through laughter and tears full of a yearning for loved ones. Tonight, no matter who was here, there was a sense of unity. You could feel the tethered string of your heart plucking at all the sights and sounds. 

When you finally found a spot on a slight grassy hill, the two of you were only near a handful of people. Minho glanced over his shoulder and found his friend’s face in the reflection of a phone light. His friend quickly clicked off his phone, so he could stay hidden in the dark blanket of night.

“How do you feel?” Minho asked. 

“I’m so excited!” You grinned. “I’ve always wanted to do something like this. Ever since I watched Tangled for the first time, the floating lantern scene on the water has always been my favorite scene.” 

“I’m sorry that we’re not on water.” 

“Are you kidding me?” You scoffed. “Look at where we are! This is going to be so beautiful. It’s like we’re holding the stars tonight. For once, they won’t be in the sky, we’ll be capturing them and sending them back home.” 

He pressed his lips together, trying not to get sappy over how excited you were. You were like a little kid as you rambled. Even in the dark, a nearby street light lit up the excitement in your eyes. He’d seen you excited before, but this was something entirely different. 

His hand went into his pant’s pocket to make sure the ring was still there. His hand found the square leather box and his shoulders relaxed. He knew exactly how he’d do this, he was just hoping you’d say yes. 

After a few minutes of talking, your arm shot out and you pointed across the way. “Look! It’s starting! We can light our lantern!”

Our lantern. 

Minho said he wasn’t getting a floating lantern and instead of ignoring his words, you just assumed that the two of you could share the lantern instead. His heart ached with a love for you that he couldn’t understand sometimes. It was little things like that, it made him think he could love you until his heart gave out. 

He reached into his other pocket, held out a lighter, and handed it to you. You held up the lantern and he hesitated. It was only after you nodded that he flicked the flame to life. He placed it back in his pocket and behind him, his friend came closer to record the moment. 

“Come on, grab the lantern and make a wish.” 

“But it’s your lantern.” 

“Lee Minho, so help me, if you don’t grab on and make a wish with me...” 

Across the way, flickering yellows and oranges began to fly higher in the sky. He grabbed the other side of the lantern and together, the two of you raised it higher and higher. After your arms couldn’t stretch anymore, your fingers let go. 

You smiled as you watched it go further and further away. Above the people’s heads, above the buildings, and further and further into the night sky. Your eyes didn’t leave, even when it blended into a crowd of other lights. 

Awe and endearment flooded the area. Shouts of joy and flickers of laughter. No matter what people wished tonight, for once, it felt like it’d be okay. Whatever hurt and whatever harm had touched people’s lives, tonight was the start of something different. 

Every light had a story and each one was a flicker of hope. Into the air, into the sky, and over buildings. Tonight, you weren’t sure where your lantern would land, it’d be up to the universe to decide. 

“So what’d you wish for?” 

You began to spin around at the sound of Minho’s voice. “I wished for-” You gasped and a hand slammed over your mouth. A few feet away, Minho was down on one knee with a box holding a ring. 

“Are you joking?” Your voice wobbled as you spoke. An emotional lump was forming in your throat. Tears blurred your eyes. 

“Will you marry me?” 

“Seriously?” 

“Seriously.” 

“Yes. Yes. Yes!” You vigorously nodded as tears streamed down your cheeks. “A thousand times yes!” 

Before he could get up, you collapsed down beside him. He didn’t get a chance to speak because you threw your arms around his shoulders. You pressed your head into the side of his neck as a choked out sob fell from your lips. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” He wrapped his arms around you tightly. “Why are you crying?” 

“Because,” you weakly squeaked as you pulled away from his body. “This was my wish. I wanted our relationship to last forever.” 

“I guess we both got our wishes tonight. My wish was that you’d say yes.” He chuckled and wiped your tears away with his thumbs. “Can we get up now? I’d like to make it official and put a ring on it.” 

“You’re an idiot,” you mumbled as you pulled your arms away. You allowed him to help pull you up. Your hand stuck out and he began to stick a ring on your finger. 

“That might be true, but I’m your idiot.” He gently grabbed your ring finger and slid on the ring. “Now I’m your idiot forever. Come on, stop crying.” He wiped away more of your tears. 

“I can’t help it, I’ve always dreamed of this. How’d you know this is what I wanted? The floating lights and everything?” Your eyes searched his, but all he offered with a soft hum and a shrug. 

“Love is a mystery like that sometimes.” He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Come on,” he slowly turned you around. “Let's watch the lanterns, shall we?” An arm wrapped around your shoulders. 

With a final sniffle, you let your head lean against his shoulder. Everything was just as perfect as you’d imagine it to be. Nothing anyone could do would ever be able to top this moment.

Minho glanced over his shoulder and his friend gave him a thumbs up. He stopped the recording and disappeared back into the crowd of people. Tomorrow, Minho would make you watch the video and he’d tease you for your dramatic reaction. 

Tonight, you were just two people whose wishes came true beneath floating lanterns and that was enough for him. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

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Ko-fi

[phantom-thieves-official]

can I say something controversial. I think by interpreting the Maruki reality stuff w Akechi as 'Joker's greatest wish was for Akechi to live bc they're in love!' is kind of a poor read of the text. Not because I don't ship them or whatever, my shipping opinions aren't relevant to this post. But because I think it overlooks a big part of Joker's actual character. He wanted Akechi to live because he saw an innocent person taken advantage of and discarded. He saw someone who needed help. You can even go further with this and say, okay, Akechi wasn't an innocent person - he killed people and tried to kill Joker himself. And what does that mean for Joker's character? It means he saw someone who had done terrible things - some of them to Joker, personally - and he still came away from Shido's palace with the understanding that while he did bad things, Akechi was a victim of Shido's, too. Good, or bad, or in between, that he still was someone in need of help. Joker wanted to help Akechi. He wanted to give Akechi a chance to make things right, and to show him that they didn't have to enemies - that Akechi didn't have to fight the Phantom Thieves, and he didn't have to be alone; that it's never too late to change course and be a better person and that Akechi's life didn't have to be one of hatred and isolation. He could atone for his crimes, still take down shido, and have a group of people to support him. After the terrible things Akechi did as Shido's lapdog, after he sold the thieves out and plotted to murder Joker. Joker still just wanted to help him. Joker saw that while Akechi was undoubtedly a criminal he was also a victim, and there was something in there worth trying to save. But you know what? He couldn't do it. Right as he seemed to be getting through to Akechi, he was killed by Shido's cognitive version.

And so when Maruki's reality brings Akechi back, it means imo that Joker feels guilty. Out of all the people he'd been able to help, Akechi was the one person he just couldn't save. It's not because they're in love, it's because Joker regrets how things worked out. He regrets that he didn't get through to Akechi sooner. He regrets failing a vulnerable and victimized person whom he feels he could have helped. Even if that person hated Joker. Even if that person had previously tried to kill Joker with his own hands. Joker's sense of justice is imo his biggest character trait, followed closely by his massive savior complex. Of course he wanted Akechi to live. Because in Joker's eyes, despite what he'd done to hurt Joker, Akechi was still a victim. He was still someone Joker should have been able to save.

This all comes to a head when Joker chooses to deny Maruki's reality. He's choosing to live with the guilt; to accept he can't save everyone no matter how hard he tries. He's moving beyond the savior complex and recognizing that sometimes, some people are really just unreachable, or don't want to be helped. It's a moment not only of characterization, but of character growth for him.

anyway that's my hot take. by viewing the third semester through a shipping lens exclusively you lose a huge point of characterization for Joker bc you overlook the nuances of Joker's desire to help everyone all the time and the guilt he feels about failing to help Akechi. You misconstrue Joker's desire to help in the first place as coming from a place of love rather than a place of selflessness and justice; a place of 'doing what's right simply because it is the right thing to do.' You miss out on the subtle ways it shows Joker's not biased by hatred or contempt, how despite the heinous things Akechi has done, and despite the harm done to him directly at Akechi's hand, Joker is still capable of seeing that Akechi is a victim, too - which in itself shows that Joker's idea of justice isn't motivated by personal relationships, grudges, or biases.

[hungermakesmonsters]

The Red Ribbon

Chapter Three

Plot Summary : By day you’re Billy Russo’s clumsy PA, but by night you’re a host at New York City’s most exclusive gentlemen's club. At The Red Ribbon everyone is anonymous and masks conceal the identities of patrons and hosts alike. But your two lives are about to collide and Billy Russo is about to see a whole new side of you without even realising it..

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour. All chapters will deal with smutty themes and include mentions/suggestions of sex work/work at a gentlemen's club (don't like, don't read). Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 6.2k

A/N : I lied, this is definitely going to need 4 chapters. Also... sorry not sorry...

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO

Master List

Chapter Three

You felt like something had been taken from you, cruelly snatched away, and you felt its loss so acutely that the pain manifested itself as a physical ache in your chest. You felt bereft, like he’d reached into your chest, scooped out your heart with his bare hands and left a gaping hole in its place.

And that empty feeling had only grown with every step you took away from the ice rink. From him.

How and why you’d allowed yourself to care so much about a masked man, a fiction you’d only met twice, you didn’t know, but the loss of that idealised fantasy had an uncharacteristic rage simmering inside you.

How dare he.

How dare he do that to you.

How dare he make you feel something for him.

He’d almost made you -

- what?

As quick as the rage had started to burn inside you, it fizzled out and you deflated. You were blowing things out of proportion, assigning blame to things that were no one's fault. You’d told him yourself that it wasn’t real, so why were you now allowing yourself to grieve its loss as if it was?

You’d demanded that your mask stayed in place while he’d been the one to want to end the charade and turn it into something terrifyingly real.

It wasn’t some deliberate action of a spiteful man, he hadn’t done it to hurt you. He’d done it to know you.

Ultimately, you’d pretended and played make-belief just as much as he had, and you only had yourself to blame for the results.

Cold wind stung your eyes as you blinked back tears all the way back to your apartment. You hated that you knew and wished that you could turn back time and unsee it all. Ignorance had been bliss and, now, every memory of him felt tainted and wrong. Part of you even started to wonder if you could ignore it, pretend that you didn’t know, so you could have just one more night in his arms, seeing him smile and hearing his laugh.

But that was impossible. There was no pretending, no getting over the awkward knotting in your stomach when you remembered every sharp word and irritated look that he’d shot you while working at Anvil.

Still, you couldn’t help but grieve the loss of connection as you curled up in bed, hating that it was him or all people who’d managed to make you feel so happy, so wanted.

For the longest time you avoided the obvious question, not wanting to even think about it.

Why had he been at the ice rink in the first place?

It was simple; he’d been looking for you.

No, he’d been looking for Bunny.

He’d tried to find Bunny, despite everything you’d told him about your connection having an expiry date and everything you’d said to maintain a professional distance from him. He’d gone looking for you in the real world - why? Because he wanted something real.

You replayed it all, over and over, wondering how you’d been so blind and hating yourself for not being more careful. You weren’t supposed to feel any of it, you weren’t supposed to feel anything at all for him. He was a customer - a customer you’d only dealt with twice at that.

You felt like a stupid teenager mourning a crush but, no matter how you tried to rationalise it, there was no stopping the ache in your chest.

Even now, knowing who he really was beneath the mask, you felt something.

What, exactly, you weren’t sure, but if felt it could have become something more, something special.

And now it was gone.

As you choked back awkward sobs, you found yourself stuck on another infuriating question; which version of Billy was the real one? Was he the man who didn’t seem to care if he hurt your feelings, or was the man who’d been concerned for your wellbeing when he found out that you’d changed your limits at The Red Ribbon?

Eventually, you finally managed to fall into a fitful and restless sleep, that left you feeling exhausted when your alarm woke you a few hours later.

You had to force yourself to get out of bed and face the day, not knowing how you were going to deal with seeing him again.

But Mr Russo was nowhere to be seen when you reached your desk on the top floor of the Anvil building. The light in his office was on but, even after you’d been sitting at your desk for over an hour, you still hadn’t seen him.

The longer you sat, the worse you felt. Your mind started to race, imagining all kinds of terrible scenarios where he’d figured out that you were Bunny, and how he was just waiting for the perfect moment to humiliate and fire you.

More than once you started to draft a resignation email, wanting to beat him to the punch and be out of there until whatever cruel revenge he had planned started to unfold. But you couldn’t bring yourself to hit send, feeling sick at knowing just how much you needed the money.

Eventually, the waiting became too much to bear and you decided to take the initiative, leaving your desk and going to get him his morning coffee, not wanting to risk being yelled at for not following his usual schedule. When you got back from Starbucks, he was still holed up in his office and it didn’t seem like he’d left.

You knocked on his door, lightly at first and, when that didn’t get a response, again a little louder.

You expect to hear some barked and exasperated order, instead you got something else entirely.

“What?” 

It was soft, barely audible, so much so that when you started to open the door, you half-expected to be screamed at for just barging in. 

At the sight of him, you faltered, almost tripping over your own feet but managing to save yourself at the last second; he was sitting with his elbows braced on the desk and his head in his hands. Something swelled inside you, some feeling that you knew that you shouldn’t be having, something wrong given the circumstance. Something of Bunny bleeding into your real life and making you ache for the man in front of you.

“Mr Russo?” You asked softly, your voice trembling, scared you might give yourself away with just those two little words and the concern they carried.

And when he looked up - fuck, you wondered how you’d never noticed how tired he always looked, like he was carring the weight of the world on his shoulders. Seeing him made you think of every other time you’d seen him looking exhausted and drained, but had chosen to ignore it because he was being an asshole to you. But you couldn’t ignore it anymore. Not when you knew there was a softer side to him lurking just beneath the surface.

“Yes?” He asked, his tone betraying him even more than his appearance. 

For a few seconds all you could do was stare at him, looking into those dark and tired eyes, searching for a flicker of recognition. And there was nothing.

He still had no idea that you were Bunny.

It took a few moments to remember the coffee cup that was gripped tightly in your hand (the same hand that, less than forty-eight hours ago, had been wrapped around his cock, pulling the sweetest moans from his lips).

“I - I have your morning coffee,” you said, managing to swallow the lump in your throat as you stepped forwards.

The tired look of confusion on his face had your gaze dropping to his desk, feeling like you were seeing too much, seeing things he didn’t want to share. His desk was in the same state as he was; messy. As you placed the cup down, you scanned the papers strewn across the desk; financial documents and mission reports, some highlighted, others plastered with post-its and scrawled handwriting. 

And, when you stepped back, you noticed the thin blanket draped over the sofa in the corner of the office. 

He’d slept there.

Or, not slept there, as the dark circles under his eyes seemed to suggest. 

“Thank you,” he muttered, dispondantly, barely raising his eyes to look at you.

You took another step back, an uncomfortable sense of shame filling you. You knew that you weren’t supposed to see him like this, obviously struggling with something, while you held some secret knowledge over him. It felt like an invasion of his privacy, an even greater breach of his trust.

“Is -” you started, then hesitated, “- is everything okay, Mr Russo?”

As he finally looked up, you found yourself flinching, bracing for some cutting remark about minding your own damn business or  I don’t pay you to ask questions, but it never came.

“Everything’s fine.”

And that was that.

Billy Russo might have been a lot of things - very confusing things - but a world-class liar, he was not.

His attention dropped back to his desk, not even bothering to reach for the fresh, hot coffee in front of him, and you found yourself lingering, not wanting to leave. Actually, you wanted to move closer, wanting to wrap your arms around him and hold him. 

At that moment, you didn’t see Billy Russo, your boss, you saw Tall, Dark and Handsome, the man who’d made you feel seen, the man who’d made you laugh. You saw a man who needed comfort, and it made your heart ache that you couldn’t give him it.

“You can take the rest of the day,” he said when he realised you were still standing there, assuming that you were waiting for him to give you some work to do. “I won’t be needing you today.”

“But it’s only 10:30 -” you started to protest, not wanting to be sent away.

“I said I won’t be needing you.”

Even that sounded hollow, like he couldn’t muster his usual sharpness. He didn’t even look at you as you, finally, started to move back towards the door.

“Yes, Mr Russo,” you answered, making sure to softly close his office door behind you.

You grabbed your things quickly, your mind racing as you left the building. He’d never sent you home early before - hell, most days you were lucky if he even let you finish on time. If you hadn't gone for his coffee, would he have left you at your desk all day with nothing to do?

And why had he been sleeping in his office?

As much as you found yourself flitting between hating him for being an asshole and longing for the man you knew he could be, you would have welcomed his cold and cutting tone over whatever that had been in his office.

More than once on your way home, you found yourself slowing, glancing back over your shoulder and considering returning to the office to confront him, to comfort him, to tell him everything just so you didn’t have to contend with all of the unsettling what-ifs in your head anymore. Seeing another, unknown version of him was just too much for you to handle, and you wanted desperately to find a way to make sense of it all.

For the rest of the day, you were an anxious mess. You felt like you were waiting for something to happen but you didn’t know what. Not once did your phone ring or buzz with a demanding message from him, nor did any email notifications appear. 

He really didn’t need you.

The man who wouldn’t even walk across the street for his own Starbucks order most days, didn’t need you.

And, of course, that led you to darker thoughts; without you there, what was he going to do for lunch? Was he even going to eat? Should you order something for him and have it delivered should you -

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck. 

You were left worrying about a grown man who, you assumed, could take care of himself. (But, just because he could take care of himself, didn’t mean that he was taking care of himself.)

All the conflicting feelings inside you made you feel like you couldn’t even be certain what you were feeling anymore. It made you feel sick to your stomach knowing that there was really no way out of it.

You could tell him the truth and destroy your own life, or you could continue to lie to him and struggle to deal with the tsunami of emotions he inspired inside of you, and neither option was particularly appealing.

And if you continued the lie? He’d keep coming to see you at The Red Ribbon, until you found a way of stopping him and - well, that just presented more challenges.

Lost in thought, you also lost track of time, spending the whole day fretting until it was time to have dinner and race across town to get to The Red Ribbon in time for your shift to start. You changed quickly, storing your things in your locker, stopping by the mirror to make sure you were presentable and didn’t look as awful as you felt. Then you headed to the board, hoping that you’d have something good to distract you for a few hours, a bachelor party, a large group, something.

But it was all just wishful thinking.

There, beside your name in brackets, were those two little words again; by request.

He wanted to see you again. Already.

You wanted to refuse, to come up with some excuse why you couldn’t see that customer again so Val would send someone else in your place. But you couldn’t. You knew that you had to see him again, had to finally figure out just what the fuck was going on and what you were going to do about it, even if it meant coming clean and putting an end to everything.

He deserved that much, didn’t he?

But, once he knew, you were certain he’d give up on you, he’d give up on the fiction that you’d both had a hand in creating. Then you’d lose your job at Anvil and, as much as the thought stung, the more resigned you became to it. No matter what happened tonight, you were already starting to realise that you couldn’t continue working for him.

Your fingers trembled as you pulled on your mask and tied the red ribbon around your neck, the soft fabric feeling more like a noose just waiting to tighten.

You tried to force your anxiety away, to become Bunny and exude her confidence, but the spring in your step was gone and, for the first time since starting to work at The Red Ribbon, you felt an uncomfortable and roiling nervousness in the pit of your stomach. You shrugged it off when Rocky questioned you unusually reserved demeanour, telling him that you were just feeling a little tired.

And you hated that you were having to lie to someone you considered a friend just to get through it all.

Once you were in the private room, you started to pace, doing none of your usual checks, not caring that the cushions on the sofa were askew or even making sure that the bar was stocked. You just paced, trying to ignore your racing heart and the weight on your chest, all the while rehearsing what you might say to him if you could bring yourself to come clean.

I didn’t realise it was you until after I gave you the handjob. I wouldn’t’ve flirted if I knew it was you. I didn’t do it on purpose. I know you’re disappointed that it’s me. You’re the last person I wanted to know that I work here. Of course none of it was real and, even if it was, it doesn’t mean anything now.

If you weren’t such an asshole, maybe we -

The door opened, cutting off that line of thought before it spiralled too far out of control.

You turned to face him, the first syllable of your confession dying on your lips the moment you saw the state he was in.

Even with the mask, you could see the way that exhaustion clung to his features, the dark circles beneath his eyes looking even more pronounced than they had that morning. His shirt was creased beneath his tailored suit jacket, the top button open and his tie pulled loose, causing his collar to sit awkwardly. If there was one thing you knew - one thing anyone who knew him knew - it was that Billy Russo was a man who cared about appearances, so seeing him so dishevelled had your stomach knotting with concern.

Before you could think to say anything or even step forwards, he’d cleared the distance between you and had taken your face in his hands, urging your head up so he could kiss you.

And - oh, how easy it was to lose yourself in his kiss, to lose yourself in the way that he made you feel wanted.

Your arm wrapped around his waist of its own accord, holding him against you - not that he had any intention of pulling away from you. His tongue eagerly, desperately, ran along the seam of your lips and you parted for him, giving him what he needed. A soft whimper slipped from you at the taste of his lips and tongue, helping you forget all about being anything but his Bunny for the moment.

When the kiss finally broke, he didn’t pull back or pull away, instead he buried his face against your neck and held you tighter, hiding from the world.

The seconds started to tick by and... nothing.

He just held you. Saying nothing, doing nothing.

After a couple of minutes had passed, you cautiously lifted your head and ran your fingers through the back of his hair. He shuddered against you, holding you tighter, but not moving, not speaking.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

And it wasn’t the kind of wrong that you’d expected, the kind of wrong that came from him knowing the truth about you.

He was upset.

You weren’t sure why it bothered you, why it caused the knots in your stomach to pull tighter. Given the number of times he’d upset you over the last few months, you should have found some sick satisfaction in it, but there was nothing but worry and heartache to be found.

Another minute passed, tenderly stroking his hair, hoping he’d snap out of whatever was bothering him but he didn't and you were forced to take action.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, forcing yourself to speak in Bunny’s calm, reassuring voice.

He shook his head but continued to hide from you, and you quickly got the impression that he’d remain like that for the rest of the night if you let him. And, some part of you wanted to let him. If holding him was bringing him some much needed comfort, then you didn’t want to pull away. 

But it wasn’t that simple. Nothing between the pair of you was that simple.

“Hey,” you tried again, “what’s going on?”

His chest shuddered as he took an awkward breath. “Everything's fucked up.”

“Everything? What's everything?” You asked, desperate to understand what was happening in front of you.

You felt him huff another breath, his arm continuing to tighten around you to an almost uncomfortable degree. 

“My life... everything I’ve worked for...” he muttered despondently, “I could lose it all...”

There was a weight to his words that made your stomach coil tighter still. His life, what he’d worked for, surely that meant Anvil. And if he was faced with losing Anvil... well, that would certainly explain his behaviour around the office lately.

Again, it felt wrong, like you were learning things that you had no right to know, things he wouldn’t tell you if he knew the truth of who you were. But the way he was holding you left you feeling conflicted; he trusted Bunny with this information and wasn’t Bunny just a part of you?

“Come on,” you finally muttered, managing to pull back from him a little, “let’s sit down and have a drink, yeah?” 

He looked at you, his dark eyes catching on yours and, for a split-second, you were sure you caught a spark of recognition in his eyes. Dread filled you but amounted to nothing. You pulled away finally, ushering him towards the sofa while you headed to grab him a generously sized glass of scotch from the bar, hoping that a drink might settle him a little.

All the while, you could feel his gaze on you, like he was scared you’d vanish if he dared to look away even for a second. At any other time you might have basked in the feeling but, right then, it just made you feel worse.

Forcing a gentle smile, you headed back to him, taking a seat beside him, letting your leg rest against his as you handed him the glass. But he didn’t drink, he just stared at it for a few seconds before letting another sigh slip out.

“When was the last time you slept?” You asked, remembering that you’d asked him the same thing only a couple of nights ago.

And you remembered his answer.

It had been a rough couple of months.

Months. Perhaps even longer than you’d been working for Anvil.

“I don’t know,” he answered, finally taking a small sip of scotch. “I can’t sleep. Can’t rest. It’s like... like there’s a weight on my chest, something pushing down...”

“That sounds like anxiety.”

And you should know. Out in the real world you’d always been anxious - though for the longest time you’d been told you were just shy, that you’d grow out of worrying and assuming that the very worst was about to happen, and that you’d learn to put yourself out there more. But then something bad had happened and, for the longest time, it seemed to confirm all of your worst fears about yourself.

But this moment wasn’t about you.

“Anxiety?” He repeated, huffing as he shook his head. “No, that’s - that’s not me. I used to be a Marine. A sniper for fucks sakes. We don’t get anxious.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” you said softly, knowing that at least that was true, but Billy shook his head again. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? Maybe it’d help to get it off your chest?”

With every moment that passed, you were digging yourself a deeper hole, putting yourself in a position you’d never be able to escape from, saying and doing things that would only make your deception seem worse when it was finally discovered.

Regardless, in an attempt to soothe him, you placed a hand on the back of his neck and started to play with the strands of hair at his nape. Billy leaned into your touch and let his eyes fall shut for a few seconds, allowing himself to almost relax.

“I never had anything,” he said quietly. “Had to fight for everything I ever got. Joined the Marines the moment I graduated high school, fought my way up to lieutenant, left with an honourable discharge. Everything I’ve ever done, I did it on my own.”

You listened intently, not sure how his past tied into his current problems, but you wanted to know because it was him, because you wanted to know him.

“I got the idea to start my company not long after I got back to New York, but everything I’d done, it - it didn’t count for anything to the banks. No one wanted to give me a loan, and I had no family to ask for help.”

He paused to take a drink, obviously putting off the next part of the story.

“There was this... guy. I met him while I was serving in Afghanistan, and he offered to front the cash I needed. Told me he’d just be a silent partner, that I’d do all the hard work and he’d get a cut of the profit.”

As he spoke, you continued to brush your fingers over the nape of his neck, trying to get him to relax a little.

“He lied to me, he -” he gave an angry huff, “- he’s been using my company to move drugs from the Middle East to the States, and he’s been laundering the money through the company accounts. I’ve suspected it for months now, but I finally put it all together last night...”

Fuck. That explained the documents you’d seen on his desk that morning and the fact that he’d slept in his office.

“The one time in my life I let someone help and...”

You felt tension fill his body and you felt so useless, so helpless. If what he was saying was true - and, honestly, you had no reason to doubt him - then everything finally made sense. It didn’t make up for the way he’d treated you, but the stress of going through all of that had to be taking its toll on him.

“I have over a hundred people working for me,” he continued, his voice an awkward mixture of anger and something else that you couldn’t quite pin down. Pain, you supposed. “I don’t know how many of them I can even trust. And if it comes out that this has happened, they could all lose their jobs, just because I was too fucking stupid to realise what was going on right under my nose.”

You didn’t expect the worry in his voice, the genuine care he seemed to have for the people who worked for him, because it was something you’d never seen or experienced before. But you were starting to realise that maybe it was because, in the few months you’d worked for him, he’d been struggling with all of this.

“You’re not stupid,” you told him firmly.

All you got was a grunt in response before he lifted his glass to his lips and drained it in one. 

“You’re not,” you told him again.

When he still didn’t respond, you took his empty glass and deposited it on the table. Then, in an act of absolute insanity, you straddled his lap and took his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you.

Your thumbs caressed his cheeks over the stubble that lined his jaw, and you allowed yourself to slowly drown in his dark eyes. Your expression softened and your heart stuttered, finally realising the one thing you’d been desperate to ignore; you didn’t want this to end.

“You. Are. Not. Stupid.” You repeated slowly, emphatically, still holding his gaze.

While there were lots of things you could say about him - several of which you had said about him beneath your breath over the last few months - you’d sat through enough meetings with him to know that Billy Russo was anything but stupid.

“Then how did this happen?” He asked. “How did I let this happen?”

Of course, you didn’t have an answer for him, but you didn’t let him look away. Your chest ached for him, hating that this was how you were learning about what he’d been struggling with. If you’d known sooner, if he’d trusted you with it at Anvil, maybe you could have helped him shoulder the burden, maybe you would have been more understanding when he’d been an asshole to you.

“I don’t know,” you said softly, “but I can tell that this isn’t what you wanted to happen and that you would have stopped it if you’d known.”

If only because he cared about his company, about the thing he’d built from scratch.

He didn’t answer, seeming to want to slip back into silence, but you weren’t going to let him.

“Why are you here?” You asked softly. “Shouldn’t you be trying to... I dunno, fix things?”

“I’ve been trying, I’ve got a friend - a lawyer - looking into it. I just -” he sighed, “- I wanted to see you. I know it sounds crazy and I barely know you, but when I’m with you, I don’t feel like my whole life is falling apart.”

You didn’t even notice his hand move, you were too caught up in the dark depths of his eyes to realise until it was pressed between your breasts, over your racing heart. For a moment he seemed to consider the way your heart was pounding and, then, realised that he was the cause.

“I don’t know why or how, but I feel like I can trust you, Bunny. You make everything feel better...” he said, a soft almost shy confession. ���Even with the mask I - I feel like you see me better than anyone...”

Your chest shuddered, lungs refusing to draw breath in case he moved his hand away.

It was so fucked up but again - and again, and again, and again - you wanted so desperately to believe him. You ached for him to want you, to trust you, even though you knew that you didn’t deserve it and that it would all fall apart the moment he found out who you were.

You needed to tell him, but everything was already too far out of control. You wanted him to know, wanting him to choose you, but you knew that it was impossible. He wanted Bunny and Bunny was only a part of you, a tiny insignificant little part.

There was no telling who closed the distance, all you knew for certain was that his lips found yours again and forced aside any thought that wasn’t wanton, selfish or carnal in nature. He’d let you see so much of himself tonight, let you see that he was even more than you ever thought he was and, greedily, you only wanted more.

“Bunny,” he groaned against your lips.

It was almost enough to undo you just hearing the desperation and need in his voice.

A soft moan spilled from your mouth and into his as his hand slipped down your body, reaching between your thighs. You tensed as you felt the fabric of your body suit and panties pulled aside, but you didn’t break from the kiss, didn’t try to stop him.

He wanted you.

In some fucked up way you managed to lie to yourself, managed to convince yourself that he didn’t think you were worthless and useless. 

You were Bunny. 

You could be Bunny, for him.

Fingers, still cold from holding his glass, trailed through your arousal, and you moaned again. Even if you’d wanted to, even if you’d somehow managed to come to your senses, there was no stopping it. You needed his touch more than you needed the air in your lungs.

“Fuck, Bunny,” he muttered, barely pulling back from the kiss, “you’re so wet for me already.”

Heat licked across your cheeks and down your neck and chest, knowing that he was right. And your arousal only became more obvious as he continued to touch you, using his fingers to spread your folds, fingertips teasing at your entrance before moving up to your clit. It wasn’t long before you were trembling and desperate for more.

“Please,” you murmured against his lips, needing more, needing everything.

Your back arched, needily grinding yourself against his hand as a finger breached your walls and sank into you. His other hand wrapped around the back of your neck, keeping you in his kiss.

You felt his lips pull into a smile against yours and it was - fuck, it was incredible to know that you’d been able to make him smile again.

He set a slow pace to begin with, despite the needy shift of your hips, taking his time with you, letting you know that he was in control. Your fingers gripped his shoulders, clinging to him as he continued to kiss you, and continued to steal the last of your sanity. 

This shouldn’t be happening, but you didn’t want it to stop.

A second finger easily slipped into the heat of your body, causing your breath to catch and another eager moan to escape you.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.”

You weren’t sure if you imagined the words, if you were hearing what you wanted to hear in order to convince yourself that this was, somehow, real, but you kissed him more fiercely because of it. 

He paid attention to every little gasp and the way your back arched every time his fingers grazed that sensitive spot inside of you, like he was learning what brought you the most pleasure. You’d never had a man take such an interest in what you needed, and it just pushed you deeper and deeper into denial, telling yourself that you could have your cake and eat it, that Billy never had to know who you really were.

You were Bunny.

You could be anything that he wanted you to be.

“Oh - fuck - god...” you whine as his fingers bent again, your lips tearing from his so you could gasp for breath.

Your head dropped back and you barely noticed his other hand pulling down the front of your body suit until he started to trail kisses down your neck and over the tops of your breasts. When you didn’t complain or make any sign you wanted him to stop, he pulled the fabric down further, revealing your lace strapless bra and popping one of your breasts from its cup.

You gripped his shoulders tighter, your knuckles aching as you held on for dear life, getting closer and closer to the edge. But you didn’t want to go over, you didn’t want the moment to end, so you fought against it, your body clamping tight around his fingers, and biting your lip as his tongue circled your nipple.

It took your last shred of sanity to keep yourself from screaming his name as you lost your battle. You came hard on his fingers, pleasure shooting up your spine, causing you to arch and press your breasts into his face - something that he seemed to appreciate.

His fingers kept moving, kept drawing out your pleasure until you were little more than a writhing mess on his lap.

Finally, you collapsed against him, pressing your face against his neck as you struggled to catch your breath, acutely aware that his fingers were still inside you and he seemed in no rush to change that fact.

“I want you,” he muttered into your ear.

Without thinking, your hand slipped between your bodies and came to rest on the prominent bulge in his pants, but you didn’t give him an answer. 

It was the point of no return - if you fucked him, there would be no getting over it, no moving past what you’d done.

“Please,” he groaned, his free hand covering yours, pressing your hand against his erection, “I need you, Bunny. I want to feel you fall apart while I’m inside you.”

To make his point, he flexed the fingers that were still buried inside the heat of your body, causing you to gasp, still sensitive from your orgasm. His lips pressed against your shoulder, his teeth lightly scraping the skin, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

“I want to make you moan for me, Bunny.”

And, try as you might, you couldn’t fight it. You couldn’t be the decent and honest person that he deserved right then. You wanted him too much, and this would be your only chance to have him.

His hand moved a little, dragging your hand over his pants, guiding your touch so you were stroking him. 

“Can you feel how much I want you?” He asked.

“Yes,” you answered breathlessly, finally lifting your head.

Before you could second guess yourself, your lips crashed against his, kissing him hungrily, telling him without words how much you wanted this, wanted him. His fingers started to move again, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine.

“Tell me you want me,” he muttered against your lips.

“I want you - fuck, I want you.”

Quickly, you found yourself moved, laid out on your back beneath him, his fingers still thrusting in and out of your eager body, sending your arousal through the roof. Your own hands were awkwardly fumbling, undoing his belt and pants so you could get to his cock and finally feel him again.

His lips roamed your face and neck, seeming to worship you with every press of his lips. 

He groaned as your fingers wrapped around his cock and started to stroke him, wanting to give him some small taste of the pleasure he was giving you.

It was too much.

It wasn’t enough.

It was everything and nothing all rolled into one.

His thumb pressed against your throbbing clit as he drove his fingers into you, and it was all over.

“Mr Russo!” you cried out as you came again, your body arching and shaking beneath him, only for your pleasure to crash and burn around you when you realised what you’d done, what you’d said.

“What the fuck?”

You couldn’t tell if he was shocked, angry, or some other third thing, but you were too frozen by panic to even think about stopping him as he reached for your mask, revealing not only your face but your lies as well.

A/N : Look... I know at this point no one is going to believe me, but it genuinely wasn't my intention to end this on an even worse cliffhanger than last time 😅 because I got carried away with the angst it got so long that I couldn't finish the plot in this chapter, so the final part will be out next week (or sometime between friday and monday, depending on how my week goes). Anyway, I'm loving how much everyone seems to be enjoying this and all your comments and reblogs have been an absolute joy to read, so thank you so much. And thanks for all the get well soon messages, I'm finally feeling back to normal now (the flu is awful i s2g).

Either later tonight or sometime tomorrow I'll be putting up a poll so you can all vote on my next Billy fic, I'll also probably mention a little something about the Bucky thing I'm planning next and throw around a few other random ideas because new year, new head full of ideas I desperately need to empty out 😂

Edit : the poll is here!!!

Hope you all have a great week!

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Tag List : @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @dreadfulxives18 @shwnirwin

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@super-clearlysaltybouquet @danzer8705 @benbarnesprettygurl

[izzyy-stuff]

hiiii izzy! I wanted to request for your 300 bash!! 🤍 i’d love something with beomgyu being a whiny begging mess when it comes to reader could be sfw or nsfw whatever works for you !

𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒 - 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐁𝐄𝐎𝐌𝐆𝐘𝐔

bf!Beomgyu x fem!reader

in which Beomgyu turns into a whiny mess around you

wc 0.5k

warnings p without plot, hand job, blow job, unprotected sex, slight fingering,

↪ izzy speaks... god why did I have such problems with writing this

not proofread in the slightest!

event post | event masterlist

It feels almost impossible not to give him everything he wants when he gives you those eyes. 

“What was it, baby?” You coo, your palm slowly sliding up and down his red cock. “Need to–” his voice breaks in the middle as you give him a tight squeeze, causing a whine out of him. “Love,” he moans out, his head thrown back. You smirk at his reactions, stopping your movements, again. 

Beomgyu isn’t sure how long it has been. All he could remember was the innocent look on your face when you came to him after dinner, batting your eyes at him before he gave you approval, not really thinking much about what you had in mind. And when you pulled down his pants, he thought it couldn’t get better. Getting a blow job from his beautiful girlfriend? Perfect. But his expectations turned in vain as you started teasing him, doing everything but what he needed. 

It was a simple hand job at first, which already got him whining enough, but then you stopped, and Beomgyu already knew you were up to no good. 

“Please.” You chuckle as you hear him beg, leaning closer to him to place your lips on his. “Hm?” You hum, tracing your hand down his chest until you reach his cock again. “Say it out loud and I might listen.” He lets out another whine as you palm his hard-on, squeezing the bed sheets under him. “You’re terrible,” he hisses, and you notice how he bites his bottom lip to prevent any other sounds from escaping. “Oh, really?” You smile. 

“So– fuck– terrible,” he repeats, bucking his hips up. “Yeah, I’m the worst,” you nod, quietly laughing at him as his cock trembles in your hands. “I can’t anymo–” he swallows the rest of his sentence as you take his tip in your mouth, his mind getting cloudy as he loses control and cums in your mouth. 

“We are not done yet,” you shake your head, wiping the corner of your lips as you watch him fall on the bed, as if taking care of his girlfriend too didn’t matter to him at all. Beomgyu narrows his eyes, trying to read through you as you come closer to him, your pants falling on the floor. “We’re not?” He asks, taking your whole body in with his eyes as you sit on top of him, feeling his cock poking against your ass. “No,” you shake your head, your fingers sliding down to your clit. 

“God,” he breathes out, his fingers replacing yours. It doesn’t last too long, though, before he moves his fingers to your hole, watching as your mouth opens and you gasp when he pushes them inside. 

You move up, aligning his cock with your cunt before you slowly sit down, causing a moan to leave both of your mouths. It doesn’t take much longer for you to fill the room with your moans and Beomgyu’s groans as he lets you ride him, his hands tightly gripping on your ass. There’s sweat running down your forehead, but you don’t care. You keep your eyes on his, continuing in your movements as you lean down to kiss him. “Am I still such a terrible person?” You hum against his lips, smiling into the kiss. He doesn’t answer you, but the whine that leaves his lips as he tries to push you down on his cock says everything you need to know.

⋆✶ izzy's tags @beomiracles @seoulzie @adel222 @inkigayocamman @flowzel @love-be0m @virgo-and-libra @hwanghyunjinismybae @liaatiny @minaateez @bamgeutsz @lovingbeomgyudayone @definitelynotherr @hmusunoo @hyunj00 ✶⋆ Want to get notified? Join taglist here !

[skvaderarts]

After several delays (sorry, everyone) chapter one of Various Storms and Saints is done!

AKA the "Jayce accidentally ends up in a good timeline where he and Viktor are together" fic I said I would write.

Summary: Word count 4.7k

After meeting Wizard Viktor and the bad timeline, Jayce takes up the grim task of heading back to his own timeline and setting things right the only way he knows how. But along the way, something goes awry and he ends up in an alternate version of Piltover and Zaun where things appear to have gone very differently, especially between him and Viktor. But after experiencing firsthand the life that could have been between him and Viktor, will he be able to go back and fulfill his promise? After knowing the love that could still be there can he bring himself to destroy it forever?

(If there is smut later, it will be in stand-alone skippable chapters in case that's not your thing. Tags will be periodically updated to reflect the plot.)

A03 Link

Chapter 1: St. Jude

Notes: Hi, everyone! Thanks for checking this out! I hope you enjoy it!

—

“St Jude, the patron saint of the lost causes.

St Jude, we were lost before she started.

St Jude, we lay in bed as she whipped around us.

St Jude, maybe I've always been more comfortable in chaos.”

—

In truth, he’d started to think he’d go mad down there.

The top of the Hexgate loomed over the wasteland that had once been Piltover and Zaun like a lighthouse in a storm, as tantalizing as food to the starving; like a distant thunderstorm in the scorching heat. He had simply known that he needed to scale it. To stand at its zenith and behold the ruined world below him. 

A world ruined by Hextech. By his dream. The culmination of their dream.

The culmination of his obsession and love for magic and his desire to better the world with it. The end of their shared brilliance and friendship. The fallible flame of Prometheus passed to him by the man cloaked in frozen, biting winds that had burned him nonetheless.

He’d been as compelled to climb up there as he had been to escape that forsaken cave. That pit where every ounce of despair held deep within him had manifested. That interminable oubliette composed entirely from his nightmares and the hell of his physical reality. As inescapable as the truth.

He’d crawled from the lowest pits of the Undercity to the very tallest structure to ever stand in the clouds of Piltover, a metaphorical journey that he wasn’t the first to make. But it had given him a sense of understanding he’d only once thought he possessed and a clarity only bitter suffering could provide. 

They’d both been through so much. And it had created this.

How fitting that it should mark the spot of their shared grave. The Hexgate. A monument to what they could achieve together standing as the last bastion in a dead world. The only life left within it sequestered atop its one gleaming crest. Everything else scurried below, barely alive anymore. Mutated beyond recognition. Nothing untouched by the corruption of the Arcane. 

They were both still living in a way, but equality dead all the same. One motionless in solitude, the other rooted to the spot, physically able to leave but unwilling to, trapped in their perpetual state of mourning A terminus of boundless misery, both forever alone despite being so close that the flowers that adorned one had started to spread across the clothing worn by the other as they remained by their side.

How did it come to this? It was unfathomable.

But as he stood there and took in the words that this version of Viktor had told him, he knew it to be the truth. He could not run from it even if he’d had the will to. He’d delivered the weight of Atlas to his shoulders so gently, so knowingly, and yet with such haunting regret. With such a look of profound knowing in his time-worn eyes.

He’d always known Viktor. He just hadn’t known it until that moment. From the first spark of magic to the birth of Hextech. The man who had saved the lives of his mother and himself. He’d once told Viktor he knew that he had no idea how beautiful magic was when he’d been the very one to bestow it upon him. Oh, how little they’d both know at the time. How small the universe had been despite how open they were to all it had to offer.

“We lost ourselves. Lost our dream. In the pursuit of great, we failed to do good. We have to make it right.”

Viktor’s words that day scraped across his frontal lobe like a razor's edge. He was right. He’d been right all along, in fact. He’d said then that the Hexcore needed to be destroyed. Once upon a time, so had their mentor. It was clearer now than ever that for the sake of everyone and everything there was only one course of action to take. One path to walk that only he could tread.

But how could he bear that weight? How could he pick up that hammer? Knowing what he was destined to do with it. When the time came would his conviction alone be enough to make him go through with it? He had never been more sure and uncertain about anything. Sure in the steadfast nature of his promise and uncertain as to whether or not that would be enough. If his will alone would be enough.

Even knowing this he took a breath and looked the man who had saved him as a child in the eye. Perhaps not even a man now. More of a divine being of such terrible power that he knew not what to call him. Not what to make of him. But regardless, as he kneeled there, his resolve strengthened even as pained reality set in. This was the only way. In his heart, he knew it to be the only truth available to him.

“Send me back.”

A hand once obscured by the fabric of the older mage’s robe lowered itself to the skeletal structure that kneeled before it, barely grazing the surface that was as much petal and moss now as it was metal, the cosmos eternally entangled with it. The silence from it was absolute all but for the brief movement of its vacant eyes. His own looking back at him for a place beyond his comprehension. What remained of himself uncurled its fingers, some of them breaking apart at the tips and remaining on the handle. There was no blood. It had been subsumed long ago. But the handle was as much a part of it as the warped base of the hammer it clutched was the structure they stood upon. A limb more than a weapon.

Jayce was as entranced as he was utterly disquieted, the fleeting thought of what it must be like to be this version of himself fluttering through his subconscious for all but a moment before he leaned forward and gripped the handle. Resolute, he met the eyes of this version of Viktor one last time before readying himself.

For all their sakes, he could never find out.

“I won’t fail.”

He felt the band he'd worn upon his wrist for what felt like a lifetime change, disappearing in a flash of light. The rune that had started all of this embedded itself into his very flesh and marked it with the permeance of a brand. A vow. Prof of the unshakable commitment he now carried by his own volition. 

He'd escaped the very depths of hell crawling on a broken leg, and yet he knew with unyielding certainty that this would be the hardest thing that he would ever do.

He had to stop Viktor. And every aching fiber of his broken being knew what that meant. 

And he hated it. Like nothing he'd ever felt before. So much that it frightened him.

It seethed within him like rolling magma from the depths of Tartarus, ready to erupt and disfigure the bedrock itself. To tear the earth asunder beneath him. Not a hate towards him but a hate for him. On his behalf. For everything that he meant and had become. Because of them both. Because of him. For everything he meant and had always meant to Jayce and the brilliance that would be snuffed out when he watched the light leave his eyes. For everything that he'd done to him even though he'd never meant to hurt him. Every wound he'd inflicted had been out of nothing but love. And that was why it was so corrosive; so volatile. 

The worst thing a person could do to someone was love them the way he loved Viktor. 

And yet, even knowing that, even as that truth gripped him, some part of him that he despised knew he'd still do it again because he couldn't do nothing when the life of someone he cared about was at stake. That was his foil. The chink in his armor. He saw that now. If only he’d seen it before it had led him down this path. The path, it seemed, that he was always destined to follow.

He would be saved as a child. He would meet Viktor. And they would destroy the world together.

The depths of such betrayal. It wouldn’t be the first time he'd betrayed someone he loved, but it would be the first time he did it on purpose. With the explicit purpose of harming them. That just wasn’t who he was. It went against every atom of his being; against his unfalteringly loyal spirit. 

He couldn't hate Viktor for what he’d become. He didn’t want to. But he could hate himself for what he’d done to him. What he was about to do to him. Later. 

“I swear it.”

The anomaly reappeared and engulfed them. A fleshy, almost tendon-like conglomeration of round inorganic shapes with little rhyme or reason to them. Visually little more than a mass of shifting rainbow hews and refracting circular portholes punctuated only by its webbed internal structure. Its surface structured and rigid despite its ever-rippling nature. It warped and sputtered, swelling and expanding before contracting and shrinking in pulses and variable waves. It seemed unstable to Jayce, but it was impossible to tell. The amalgamation was as unknowable to him as the depths of the ocean. He would not question how it worked. He knew its purpose. It would send him back.

And then he would set about his grim task.

Jayce shared one final parting glance with the older version of the man he’d once called his closest friend before he felt himself pulled backward, tumbling through the depths of the Arcane. It was a blinding and disorienting experience, channels of light to either side of him rippling through dark, cool hues punctuated by the occasional reds and golds as runic symbols blazed past him at light speed. What appeared to be the night sky loomed over him, stars sparkling in distant, vacant galaxies in the far-off cosmos he was sent along the path that had been purpose-carved explicitly for him. It was beautiful in a frightening way.

Gripping the handle of the Mercury Hammer tightly, he felt himself speed up, approaching velocities that he dared not consider. The implications of how hard his upcoming landing would be would start to eat away at his already raw nerves. He didn’t need that.

His head cascaded through memories and fractured visions, threatening to tear his mind apart. He presumed that he was nearly there. He would hold together for as long as it took. He would finish the job and then his mind could unravel. Perhaps that would spare him some of the inevitable guilt. Some merciful madness to provide him with a thoughtless reprieve.

But as he approached the end of the path, a thought occurred to him. The Arcane. He’d touched it back at the base of the Hexgate and it had felt strange. Alien. Unpleasant. But this was another facet of it. More focused and less untamed. It looked like he could reach out and touch it, skim over its surface just like a hand skimming through silent waters. He’d wanted to do as much during his childhood in the moment that he’d been whisked away to safety. Perhaps a bit of harmless indulgence amidst the madness of it all?

Cautiously, he reached out his hand, extending just his middle, ring, and index fingers. That would be all he needed to-.

He saw his body go one way as he went the other as if he had been snatched from it. It passed him as he lingered behind, time almost seeming to stand still as his mind failed to process the level of horror that he should be experiencing upon seeing something of that nature. And then he was yanked sideways, wrenched through the walls of the Arcane itself.

A fractal, almost psychedelic series of refracting reflections of his own body and mind encircling him and then spreading out in long waves, sending his body through a void of bright white light. He saw the back of himself, row after row repeating the same motions in a slightly delayed sequence as he closed his eyes, only to find that doing so did nothing to stop him from seeing. He felt his heart leap in his chest, his blood pounding as he tried to steady himself.

Curse his foolish curiosity. If he’d only kept his hands to himself…

Suddenly, he felt his body drop. Slamming downward as everything around him went completely white save for the infinite rows of rainbow light that encircled the black, bottomless cosmic hole that he now found himself plummeting into. He opened his mouth to cry out in fear but found that little more than a frightened yelp escaped his parted lips as he plunged into the depths. Jayce closed his eyes, unwilling to look. If this was to be his end then he didn’t want to see what would take him from existence.

Jayce felt his knees buckle and slam downward as his hands caught him and he came to a sudden, bone-crunching stop. He gritted his teeth from sheer instinct, waiting with dread for the inevitable pain that would make its unwelcome appearance in his left leg. But as he opened his eyes he was met with confusion as nothing happened, the only discomfort coming from his palms making contact with the ground beneath him, and even that was nominal at best. His knees tingled a bit, but hardly in a way that he’d consider painful. Slowly his eyes began to adjust.

Light flooded through the trees around him. The smell of crisp waterside air and the gentle flutter of the wings of birds as they soared from the treetops overhead, startled by his sudden stop. The feeling of a comfortingly cool breeze grasping at the fabric that he wore, ghosting over his skin with all the gentleness of a kiss. The sun shone overhead in a bright blue sky barely touched by the paltry smattering of clouds that dared try to impede the light from above, warm but not stifling as leaves blew past him on the paved path that he occupied. 

He was looking down at the pavement. There was pavement.

Startled, he scrambled backward onto his feet, instantly thrown off by how unburdened his movement was. He ran a hand over his visibly shocked face, shaking his head back and forth a few times as his palm made contact with the top of his head. There was no hair to brush out of his eyes. It was shorter. He had no beard. No stubble, even.

He looked down and, to his further confusion, he wore something completely different than what he’d just had on. Gone were the muddied and soiled whites and golds that he’d once worn and in their stead was a much more approachable set of clothing. He wore dark pants with a vest and a long-sleeved shirt underneath, the sleeves neatly rolled up to just over the elbow. The garments were complimenting shades of dark blue and that shade of Talis red that he was oh so accustomed to. Familiar but something he was almost certain he couldn’t remember ever wearing before. And yet, something he felt like he would’ve picked out in another lifetime. Certainly inoffensive to his personal tastes.

Taking a second to orient himself, he concluded that he was in a park or plaza of some sort. It had recently established trees. There were benches and what seemed to be a fountain of some sort a short distance away. Nothing noteworthy but it still felt that way.

The place was alive. So unlike what the place he’d just left had been like.

“Excuse me. Sir? You dropped these.”

Jayce turned in alarm towards the individual who had just approached him. An enforcer carrying what appeared to be a clipboard with several documents on it. There was a cover sheet covering the stack bearing a house single that looked reminiscent of his own, only with two hammers instead of the single one he was accustomed to. Everything else was the same from the style to the colors, aside from that notable difference. Odd.

The enforcer handed over the documents, stopping to adjust his uniform. It had probably shifted when he’d reached over to pick up the documents off of the ground.

“T-thank you.” It took Jayce a moment to speak, his mouth and mind not quite in alignment just yet. He wasn’t sure why that had been so hard. What about it had felt so foreign to him? Perhaps spending an extended period in a realm nearly devoid of conversation partners had made him accustomed to other people just existing around him? There hadn’t been anyone to talk to down in that hole except for himself and the vaguely amphibious creatures he’d been feasting on. It was a humbling thought, one that made him uneasy. “Sorry for the trouble.”

The enforcer nodded cooperatively, seemingly taking notice of how off-kilter Jayce seemed. There was just something a bit off about him. Oh, if the man only knew. And yet, he seemed familiar. Like Jayce had seen him before…

It hit him like a bolt from the blue. He looked like that sheriff who had died on the bridge during that attack a while back, only slightly younger. Less hardened. What had his name been? Something with an M. Ah, that was right. Marcus. The same man who’d brought him the documents he’d requested during his second day as a Counselor. The day that they’d gone to check on the Hexgates.

Wait.

Oh no. He’d gone off course. Surely. It should have been obvious at first glance and yet… Was he in the past? Was this another timeline? He needed to find out. Fast.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” It was so strange, speaking to a man he knew to be dead. Or who would die? He didn’t have the foggiest idea just yet, but still. He hadn’t known him but he still felt a small pang of sadness remembering the sight of him laying there when he’d visited the bridge that day with Mel. It almost made him feel queasy again.

“Of course. How can I help?”

“I… “ He flipped through the documentation on the clipboard, looking for something to go off of. A starting place for his investigations. And then he found it: a set of addresses. One was listed as a professional address, a tempting lead to be sure, but the other caught his eye. It was a home address. Apparently, his personal address since it was listed under his house name. But it was not the one he was familiar with. “Could you point me in the right direction?”

Marcus leaned over to read the address and then eyed him questioningly, seemingly wondering something but not saying it. “That’s just a few blocks short of a mile from here. Across the bridge in Central Zaun. Near The Last Drop. Go straight. You won’t miss it.”

The notion that the address was not in Piltover didn’t surprise him. He’d never seen a street by that name there. But Zaun? Was that what the Undercity was called in this universe? Had something disastrous happened in his personal life to cause him to have to move there? Maybe he hadn’t gone back in time, then. This might be more complicated than he’d first imagined. Fantastic.

He thanked Markus and bid him farewell. At least now he had a lead to work with. To Zaun, then. He’d been to the center of the Undercity before. It felt like a lifetime ago now, but he was certain that he could find his way down to the bottom again.

Making his way through town, Jayce couldn’t hope but notice that things felt different. Everything felt brighter; warmer and more optimistic. There were balloons on the street poles and banners over roads. Street service workers were in the process of replacing the standard lights with colored ones and an electric sense of optimism and excitement seemed to flow from everyone he passed. They were all looking forward to something, that much was clear.

And then he reached the bridge.

The structure that once served as a point of separation between the two cities gleamed under the bright sky, bustling with activity and purpose. Children played and vendors showcased different products and purchasable, perishable, or otherwise. People talked and laughed together from all walks of life. There were no blockades. Only traces of where they’d once been. Everything was clean and well-kept. People were enjoying themselves in an environment devoid of tension.

It all felt like a surreal fever dream. A beautiful one.

In truth, it stole his breath away.

He’d always hoped that Hextech could pave the way to a better tomorrow for them all, but to see the Undercity flourishing, even at just the surface level? This place was everything he’d ever hoped it could be. Everything that they’d championed for, especially Viktor. So tirelessly, even at the expense of his own well-being. To see the home that his partner had hailed from brimming with hope and beauty seized him in a way that he struggled to shake as he moved through the streets toward his destination. He wished he could show Viktor this version of his home. He wished he’d had the chance to grow up in this version of his home. No polluted water and acidic air, no downtrodden infrastructure or blackened skies heavy with soot and brimstone from the factories and mines. Just fresh air, daylight, and opportunity around every corner. What they’d all disserved from the very start. What they’d been deprived of by the simple virtue of being born on the wrong side of the bridge.

Genuine tangible irrefutable progress. He wanted this for his Piltover. For their Piltover.

He hurried along, checking the addresses as he passed by what was undeniably the center of town. Past The Last Drop and down its open, winding roads that had once been so narrow and stifling. Down to a quiet but still active zone filled with a mixture of residences and small shops. Colorful, bright, and full of greenery, something unfamiliar to him in this place save for the smog. He rounded a corner and then stopped, suddenly hit by the realization that something just felt off all of a sudden.

It started as simple blurred vision, Jayce shaking his head as he ducked further back away from the street. But then his head shuttered and his legs nearly buckled, his chest heaving as he used one hand to steady himself against the brick wall of one of the shops and the other to grip his throbbing head. He saw colors and shapes in flashes too fast and aggressively to make out clearly. And then he felt his stomach knot and churn before he found himself on his knees for the second time since he’d arrived, emptying the contents of his stomach into a nearby bush.

Panting as the clarity returned to his watering eyes and the breath in his lungs was restored, he stood shakily, steadying himself. He wasn’t a fan of whatever that had been. But it was over. He would continue.

Stepping back out onto the main path he did a double take. He’d found the address. In his stupor, he’d nearly walked right past it.

It didn’t stand out from the other buildings it was attached to, a little two-story thing with a raised stoop that made it apparent that it had a basement with a window well. At the top of the eves was a round window that hinted at the possibility of an attic, but it was hard to be sure from the exterior. The roof was a tarnished copper like many of the others on the road, but in a way that was ornamental instead of the result of a lack of upkeep. The verdigris contrasted the rest of the structure in a way that almost seemed deliberate, with red brick and metal ornamentation that almost reminded him of what one would expect in the more common districts of Piltover but with a slightly different flare. It was… Nice. Easily one of the coziest-looking buildings on the lane. Strange. It even felt like home.

Jayce wasn’t sure what he’d expected to find when he’d imagined where he’d choose to live in the Undercity, but this was a far cry better than what he’d had in mind. Nothing opulent, but to be fair, that had never been the case for any place he’d lived aside from the Kiramman Penthouse during his studies. He dug through his waistcoat pocket and produced a set of keys as he approached the door. There were a few on the ring, in fact. Something else to look into later. If he was there that long.

It took a few keys before he found the right one, but eventually, the door opened and he stepped across the threshold, immediately hit by the comforting warmth of the space. If the outside had been quaint and cozy, then the inside was nothing short of welcoming. Instantly, it felt like a place he’d like to stay in. An archway made in the same art nouveau style with just a sprinkle of art deco that the rest of the building’s exterior had been crafted in opened up into what seemed to be a living area of some sort. Just ahead of him was a staircase leading to the upper level. 

Even with the curtains partially drawn across the back window, he could see the wealth of plants in the back conservatory off to the side of the back of the building, accessible via the hallway that ran down past the staircase. An interesting choice. He’d never been the best at keeping those alive despite his best attempts. Perhaps they were specimens for some sort of study.

But as he considered this the same pain he’d felt in his skull returned from nowhere, only with no warning or build-up and with the vengeful spite of a curse set upon him by a wrathful god. He bumped into the wall as he dropped the papers he still carried onto a side table, nearly stumbling over it in the process as he reeled back and used both hands to clutch his aching head, digging his fingers into his scalp as though gouging through his flesh and excavating all the gray matter from his body was the only recourse from which he could hope to derive release.

Gasping soundlessly save for the sound of air parting ways with his lungs, he grounded himself as he clenched his eyes shut. It would pass. It had to. His worst moments always did for they were merely that: moments. He groaned shakily, panting like a shaking animal as his ears wrang, seeing only the flashes of color and fractal nonsense that were the hallmarks of the Arcane anomaly. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears and head as the ceaseless agony slowly subsided, pushing and pulling in tormenting waves until it became vaguely bearable again, coherence no longer simply a product of wishful yearning.

He didn’t hear the handle turn; he didn’t register the door swing open or the silence as it returned to the room. Jayce didn’t feel the presence of another person in the room with him whatsoever, so overtaken was he by the ordeal he’d just experienced. His ears felt like they’d never be useful again. And then he heard a voice. As clear as crystal. Like a chime ringing out in the utterly consuming darkness. He didn’t currently possess the faculties necessary to discern the topic of conversation, but he knew that voice anywhere.

Viktor.

(-~-)

After SEVERAL delays (sorry, everyone) chapter one is FINALLY out and I am over the moon. Seriously, I have so much that I want to do with this AU and so many little stories that I want to tell within it, so bear with me. Sometimes my brain just doesn't cooperate with my writing schedule, but the excitement is there, I promise. I want to know what you guys think! It’s been so long since I’ve started something like this. Was the writing okay?

I have a one-shot to write and then I’m going to start chapter two immediately so the plan is to get it out within the next day or two, if not sooner. Fingers crossed. Thanks again for checking this out! If you want to hear more I have info for the AU on my Bluesky and my Tumblr and they are both linked in my bio. I can provide links if you’d like them. Just let me know. I’d really like to know what you think of this so far. Do you want this to go in a more spicy direction in the future? Is that a no-go for you? I’m itching to hear your feedback. And I hope to see you in chapter 2. Take care and I’ll see you soon. Bye!

[lilacxquartz]

Those Late Summer Nights | Chapter 25

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. — cw: this is a yandere story with upsetting themes throughout.

summary: satoru succumbs to a tough call, potentially ruining your life for good. shoko in the meantime spirals.

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

Chapter 25. Taking Risks

The next time you woke up, the air felt thick with an underlying mixture of both tension and regret. Satoru still held tightly around you, his arms slightly constricting ever so slightly from the moment he felt you stir into consciousness.

“Not yet,” he murmured into the crook of your neck, the hot sensation of his breath causing a shiver to run through your body. You still felt uncomfortable in his presence, but his sudden change of heart was starting to throw you off. Especially given that he practically begged for your forgiveness the night before.

Satoru did wake up later though. It didn’t take too long for him to follow suit. His silvery lashes fluttered open as his intense blue gaze fixed on you. He pushed himself up somewhat reluctantly, though quickly, not wanting to savour the prickle of the cold winter air. He did feel partial regret for sleeping in so late though, his eyes slightly widening at the time read on his nightstand table. The estate itself was empty today—at least for the most part—his plans aligned so well by accident what with the big three locked away in some sort of fundraiser—that an outsider could speculate that this was all planned.

(Although it wasn’t. Satoru simply just didn’t care for such things. So of course, it slipped right past him.)

“Do these fit?” he asked as he started throwing you some clothes from his wardrobe, packing the rest of whatever could fit into a suitcase he pulled out from under his bed. “It’s pretty cold out there, I’d hate for you to freeze.”

You stared down towards your lap at the cluster of clothing, somewhat reluctantly changing out of what you already wore while he was still distracted. The cold air kissed your skin, slightly stiffening your movements. The jumpers were fine, albeit itchy against your skin, while the trousers also did fit, but they ruched at the legs ever so slightly, with the tightness around your hips feeling strange. “Somewhat,” you muttered, “but why…?” you yawned, your mind slowly catching up. “Where are we going—”

With a start, Satoru interrupted you. His body grew taut too, but for different reasons. It was rare for him to snap, even under a lot of pressure. You heard about him throughout the better course of the summer, either through sharing a nightcap with Shoko or even Suguru passively speaking about the guy, that despite what he went through, the guy was almost eerily calm. The same could be said for right now, but maybe it was that he let such a facade down around you, or that you could read him better since you were within his company so often and in such a compromising position. Either way, though, even though his voice didn’t raise in the slightest and even though he, for the most part, reeled himself in—he snapped in his own way at you.

“—it was wrong for me to lock you up,” he spat, although tried to real himself in a moment later. He schooled his tone into something more measured, as though to convince you to go along, although, a part of this felt like a genuine confession, so you were left confused. “I should never have done that,” he added, bringing himself down to his knees in front of where you sat, taking hold of your hands and nestling it into his palms, the way he looked back up at you seeming almost desperate, “I don’t know how to fix things—not yet—what I can do though, is give us both enough some time to think, how about that?”

You blinked. Regardless of how he worded things, no matter what you felt for even a brief moment in time last night—something about this whole thing—still felt ridiculous. You started to feel it first with Suguru when he dictated who you could speak to and who you couldn’t, feeling not at all surprised deep down when he overwrote your life to better suit his own. Whatever Satoru was exhibiting right now wasn’t too different, claiming to offer you freedom or something close to it, yet all he was going to do really, was to change the scenery for your prison.

No, if he actually cared, then this wouldn’t be the way. The only reason he was bringing you along to bide time, was because he didn’t want to get caught. Not that he had much to worry about, being the influential guy that he was. You knew better than anyone, that any sort of scandal, as long as someone could be paid off, could be swept under the rug. In a way, you wanted them to do that. You were just so done. You wanted your silence to be settled in a generous sum, for you to be able to finally slink away from this insanity and just… disappear.

The audacity of others trying to sculpt your life to match whatever sort of convenience they were after, almost felt insulting to hear. Although you struggled with admitting it out loud to him and although you wanted to argue it, it was clear from when you looked into his eyes that Satoru had already made up his mind. He might want to fix things, but he wasn’t ready to let go of you just yet. Whatever mess you had gotten yourself into, couldn’t be fixed with something as simple as freedom. Without even thinking about it, after all, you managed to get yourself wedged within the company of two powerful, but also dangerous men, regardless of their status within jujutsu society.

You bit back a scoff. “Will you really fix it?” you asked, going along with it, but only because you had to.

“I’m not sure,” Satoru admitted, not holding back a scoff of his own. The way his eyes drifted down your legs didn’t feel objectifying, more so in the sense that he seemed to be avoiding eye contact for the time being. Something about it felt self-deprecating. “I know that I fucked up, that’s all,” he sighed, carefully choosing his words, “I never should have reacted the way that I did, I never should have… hurt you,” he paused, feeling his composure slip, but then continued anyway, “I feel like a terrible person. Am I? Although, please don’t answer that…” he dropped his head down to rest over your thighs, wrapping his arms right around your thighs next, “just… just… give me a second to figure things out.”

You didn’t reply as he rambled into the trousers he gave you, his breath slightly dampening the fabric as he sulked into you. After a couple of minutes had passed, he led you out into the dead of the winter and settled you into his car. If nobody else had seen you, then that was the best place for you to be, what with the windows being tinted. He rejoined you not too long after, making sure that everything vital that he needed was with him before buckling in and heading out.

He’d arrange for this place to be picked clean before anyone had the opportunity to notice. Megumi was safe elsewhere and he wouldn’t be returning, with him going immediately to the campus come next autumn. This was for the best because ultimately, he decided that getting you involved if even indirectly to his adopted son, wasn’t a good idea. Should you decide to stay in the end on your terms though, it would be a different story.

You on the other hand, just as he predicted, didn’t speak all that much. Your distracted, or otherwise, the facade of your own indifference was easier for him to work around, especially as he made the needed calls, instructing people on the receiving end of all sorts of measures and precautions to take when taking care of a name that hadn’t yet entered your circle. The way that he spoke with such care almost threw you off a little, seeing him be so soft-spoken in comparison to the sides of him you otherwise knew. The confident, joking side that he put on an extra long show of for the better part of the summer, or the eerily calm side that he pushed when you didn’t accept the initial circumstances of your new life.

It made you feel nauseated in a way to listen to him speak about someone with such genuine care, making you at the same time wonder just what on earth you did wrong for the attention you received from him to be so neglectful in comparison. He was capable of being tender, so why were you on the opposite spectrum for being on the receiving end of that, until now? You didn’t understand, that was all.

You sighed as your mind became preoccupied and even overwhelmed with such thoughts, although, your neutral expression didn’t betray a single thought. Instead, you kept on looking outside, watching the scenery pass you by. At the sky that you had dreamed of for so long and all of those other thoughts that had long occupied your mind. Guiltily, your mind couldn’t help but drift to Suguru as he drove, wondering exactly what it was that he had been up to right now. A part of you didn’t want to believe that he really murdered both your parents in addition to his own, your mind unable to grasp the possible connection between the two. Yui, you understood—that was revenge for your sake, or so he claimed—your family and his own, despite being so purposefully ignorant, didn’t hold onto that same resentment.

A part of you hoped otherwise, that Satoru lied to you when he disclosed such information. The venom in his tone though wasn’t something you could forget. It was as if he withheld it until he had to get you to break. The irony of him complaining for the longest time that you were being difficult when he was just as capable of being spiteful was insulting.

He almost broke you down too, but you couldn’t be too trusting just yet. Not even now and especially not when he was going to fix things. The fact that he withheld his thoughts from you and seemed adamant about moving you to an even more secluded prison, was evidence enough that this wasn’t going to solve a single thing.

Perhaps though, you supposed, he believed the words he spouted. It was just difficult for you to imagine that a man who inflicted pain on you in the most violating way possible, could just be ‘sorry’ for what he had done. For stealing you away and keeping you in some bleak hold, preventing you from living a life that you had tried so eagerly to reclaim for yourself. You bit back another scoff. He couldn’t be sorry, or at least, if he did feel sorry, then it wouldn’t be enough. No, he should be feeling despair, he should be feeling weak; fear should be coursing through his veins, striking him in the heart as he suffocated through the sheer piercing horror of what he had inflicted.

For him to only feel remorse per his own wrongdoings for the same reason that Suguru did when you admitted to the very same thing was insulting, because they both only seemed to excuse you when your trauma was great enough. For Suguru, it seemed to be the finalisation at least, you wondered just what it was for Satoru, next.

As you succumbed to such thoughts, silently stewing away in the passenger seat, Satoru was plagued by similar thoughts as he drove. The destination in mind was a quaint little house in a town not too dissimilar to yours. A simple property that he bought on a whim in cash when he took on both Megumi and Tsumiki. He did so just in case the two ever wanted to live a normal life, somewhere far away from sorcery. The parallels already invaded his mind the closer he got to it, though, wondering just what sort of life he could have had. Tsumiki from his knowledge, never had a cursed technique of her own. Megumi’s however, was awoken at the typical age. Had he followed his sister, who otherwise also stayed elsewhere into such a life, then maybe it wouldn’t have been too different from what you faced and he hated such a comparison.

Megumi was a gifted, almost eerily perceptive kid, after all. He saw things that the better part of the population couldn’t, exhibiting control of a power, that people couldn’t even begin to fathom. Had he ever attempted to live a normal life, just like his sister, or where Kento had gone off to, just like you before you had known—would it have been just as lonely? As ostracising?

Satoru couldn’t help but scoff at himself again, hating the way that he felt right then and now. It was constricting and painful to imagine such possibilities about the people he sought to bring peace to. He couldn’t bring himself to talk to you during the trip as a result, with the consequences of his actions catching up to him in a way that he couldn’t properly think about. All of the questions that haunted him in a way that he couldn’t answer properly aside from claiming he’ll be able to ‘fix things’ given enough time, not being surprised in the slightest, if you saw through his excuses.

He was thankful that you were dealing with this quietly, although, he was angry at the same time. It wasn’t that he wanted for you to just settle and accept all that he had inflicted, but he didn’t want to at the same time answer, straight to your face, why he would even think to assault you. Why he went from being a once good friend to your abductor? Or why, he was once again, doing something potentially horrible in your eyes, whisking you away from one place to another?

He supposed that this time you’d have more freedom, at least. As long as you didn’t wander outside and try to run your mouth, then he could think more about what he wanted to do. Blinking towards you for a brief moment, he knew that he could trust you on that front. You likely knew that telling on him was pointless given his stature, and although he hated that he could get away with such a cover, for the time being, it was surely beneficial.

As for what he wanted to do? Fuck. He didn’t even know. Satoru sucked at his teeth in thought. Something deeper kept gnawing at the back of his mind, though. Something darker. Satoru was beginning to understand a certain point that he talked Suguru out of committing to back when they were both teens. A consequence of humanity, indeed, but it couldn’t have been your fault. Maybe your experience and existence alone simply just served as a reminder, that the majority of the non-sorcerers that they were brought up to protect, weren’t that much better than the problem they sought to eradicate. The negativity had to come from somewhere, after all, and god, the modern world was swimming in it.

Maybe, for that reason, Suguru had a point after all. Satoru sighed and tried to shake away the thoughts as he pulled you both into the driveway either way, leading you inside, telling you to get comfortable as he absentmindedly started to unload the car.

Satoru took another deep breath. Maybe it was time to get back into touch with Suguru then, he thought. At least lately, and after such a fresh admission on your end, his decision in life started to make more sense than ever before.

Maybe everything did happen for a reason, he supposed, because what were the chances that someone as devastating as you would ever fall in between someone so volatile and someone so torn at the same time? Whatever it was, Satoru was starting to finally understand it, despite the way he was otherwise raised.

Perhaps the next course of action would have to be the more drastic one, because he was damned if this sort of life caught up to those he cared about, too.

~~~

Shoko continued to pace around the ward of the Kyoto Jujutsu College, barely wrangled in by Utahime who hovered around her with twitching hands, held up in a strained placating gesture. Shoko clawed at her hair, tugging at the roots in frustration. What did that mean for you, indeed? Satoru Gojo couldn’t have been missing—surely not! Did he know somehow about the plan, or was this some sort of twisted turn of fate, that just so happened to misalign with her plans?

In a fit of madness, she suddenly paused in the middle of it all, finding some sort of revelation, or perhaps comfort as she dipped her hands into her pockets, flipping the cigarette carton open, only for the pack to be empty.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Shoko…” Utahime tried to soothe her, trying to reign her in as irrationality threatened to take her over.

“I-I can’t do this, Utahime,” Shoko whined, almost, her voice coming out as a string of muttered drawls, leaning her back up against the wall as she pushed her palms over her eyes, “I’m so fucking tired.”

“Yuki is still willing to help,” Utahime softly spoke, trying to be the voice of reason, “I think if we try to do what we initially had in mind, then he could slip up at some point, maybe even reveal himself to us by accident and give us an opening.”

“An opening?” Shoko repeated, a hint of madness seeping into her tone. “To where?” her hands dropped and her eyes widened. “Baby, I love you, but to where? We have no idea where the fuck he’s gone off to this time.”

“We could stage something and get his location that way,” Utahime brainstormed, “maybe a hospital, or somewhere secluded.”

“All the while she’s somewhere we have no fucking clue of?” Shoko spat, feeling the exhaustion creep back in.

Utahime too, was beginning to feel tired—of everything. “We’ll follow him back then, or Yuki will.”

“You really think that his six eyes wouldn’t notice a curse user on his tail?” Shoko replied with a deadpan tone, although she didn’t mean it. In reality, this was her way of showing defeat, the hope gone from her voice.

Utahime tilted her head to the side, her pointer finger perched at her lip. “Non-sorcerers do exist, so perhaps we could hire a private investigator or someone similar to tag him. Somebody perfectly ordinary without even a hint of cursed energy.”

Shoko’s voice softened. “Would that even work?”

“I believe that if we figure out a general idea of where he’s staying, then yes,” Utahime assured, “we’ll make it work, at least somehow… we have to, right?”

Shoko nodded, already settling on a plan in mind. She wouldn’t do anything to harm Megumi, god no, but she could take him out for the day and drop an anonymous tip to Satoru that he was missing, possibly injured, or close to getting to such a state. Guilt flooded within her, but she had to do what she could, finally ending this once and for all. Another thought did enter her mind though. “What about… Suguru?”

Utahime paused. “A definite problem, but not impossible to deal with. Have you heard anything from him lately?”

Shoko shook her head. “I haven’t…”

“In that case,” Utahime considered, forming a plan of her own, “fill him in, but only briefly. He’s a good ally to have given that he’s likely the only one, despite everything else that has happened, that Satoru is likely to let get close.”

Shoko hummed. “Got it. Maybe he could cooperate and let me take hold of the girls for the day too, if I word it differently. He knows that I wouldn’t do anything to them, but at the same time I do need leverage…” she muttered off to herself, feeling once again nauseated at indirectly involving the kids, but for neither Satoru nor Suguru to screw them over in the plan they had so delicately crafted, there had to be a middle ground.

A few seconds passed, a new message on her phone emerged. The flirty undertone of the text told her that this was Yuki.

[Let’s meet~]

~~~

In the meanwhile, Suguru stared at his phone as it rang. His eyes were wide and almost manic, his lip twitching at the very thought. Satoru had a specifically assigned ringtone for his phone, so there was no denying it. He grabbed the phone within an instant, caving in after just a couple of seconds had passed, not sure what to expect.

“It’s me,” Satoru began the call, ready to disclose all that needed to, to bring himself over to his side and with some luck, to join forces if need be.

He was tired of running too, after all.

[doodler16]

Sorry if this post feels a bit conjoined but it's a thought that's been on my mind for a minute.

Cw for abuse discussion.

Vivziepop has said before (not sure where specifically) that she's not afraid to kill off characters but what are those characters in question?

The only major character deaths in the hell verse I can think of is both Pen and adam. However the former gets reincarnated back to heaven and a ladder just dies despite being a human. It makes me wonder she says that because most of the characters are already dead in a sentence this is a story about the afterlife.

Then on the other side of the spectrum you get characters like stella, crimson, and valentino. A trio of characters who's entire character trait is to basically just be around to abuse their specific victims. This is despite the fact that many of the victimized characters have means to fight back or just straight up end their abusers life.

(more specifically stolas and the imps. I know Angel's under contract But if plot armor wasn't a factor I'd feel like he'd get Charlie's help.)

Honestly it makes me think back to the dire gentleman's video I watched again recently and it made me think

"why can't they simply take out their abusers, it's hell."

Tldr: where is the so-called fearlessness to kill characters and why isn't it done on the shitty abuser villains. You ain't Araki VP.

That’s the funny part. In Hazbin Hotel, Vivziepop has “killed” off Sir Pentious and Adam. In Helluva Boss, the writer Adam killed off Chaz. That’s literally it so far. I believe what Vivziepop means is she is not afraid to permanently kill off a character (I will see it when I believe it, at best a character gets mildly injured and that’s it).

My personal theory of why she hasn’t killed off the abusers because their “arcs” aren’t done and would be too easy. You mentioned Valentino, Stella, and Crimson. For example, Valentino there are still things we don’t know about (besides him being an artist and rapist), like his connection with Angel Dust, how they met, how did he meet Velvette and Vox, how did Valentino die as a human, etc.

For Crimson, I would live if Millie killed him off and he was a one off character. He is so forgettable, but I’m sure Vivziepop has plans for him. I’ve been seeing theories that he’s going to do something to Moxxie and Millie’s future/potential kid. This could lead to actual face off between Moxxie/Millie and Crimson. Getting closure, etc. Ozzie could get revenge on Crimson for kidnapping Fizzarolli.

And Stella! I don’t know what the future will look for her and it’s hard to tell what Vivziepop will do with her. I wouldn’t be surprised if Stella ended up homeless and kicked out of her mansion by Octavia or Stella somehow gets a restraining order from Stolas. Vivziepop mentioned in an interview that Stella has a Beatrice backstory for season 3.

[shizuturnspages]

Just yandere ayato and diluc with reader who has been through a lot. Like war, abuse, losing friends and death? You name it

And yet reader remain gentle and kind through it all.

I like this one because we all know diluc turns cold after his father's death, meanwhile ayato had to put up a face and gets crueler in order to keep the peace around his clan,

Yandere Ayato and Diluc with a Gentle S/O Who’s Been Through It All

Yandere Ayato

The Facade Falls for You

❥ Ayato is a master manipulator, wearing a calm, collected mask to navigate the storm of Inazuma’s politics. Yet, with you, it crumbles. Your gentleness is disarming in a way that terrifies him; he feels like you’re the only person who truly sees him beyond his strategic facade.

❥ He becomes obsessively protective, not just of your safety but of your kindness. He sees the world as something cruel, unworthy of you, and he’s determined to shield you from anything that could tarnish your purity.

Fixated on Your Strength

❥ Ayato admires your resilience, though he’d never outright say it. To him, your ability to endure so much and still remain gentle is nothing short of miraculous—and it feeds his obsession.

❥ However, he also hates the world for what it’s done to you. While you forgive and move forward, he quietly seethes, plotting ways to punish anyone who’s hurt you. They won’t even know it’s him pulling the strings until it’s far too late.

Subtle Possessiveness

❥ Ayato’s control over you is subtle but firm. He makes it impossible for you to leave his side by weaving himself into every aspect of your life—offering you comfort, opportunities, and protection under the guise of kindness.

❥ “You’ve done so much on your own,” he murmurs, taking your hand. “Let me carry some of that burden for you. You deserve to rest.”

A Calculated Protector

❥ Ayato will eliminate threats to your happiness without a second thought. Whether it’s someone from your past or a current obstacle, he’ll handle it quietly and efficiently. You’ll never have to lift a finger—or even know.

❥ But if you insist on staying connected to anyone he deems harmful? His tone sharpens, his smile a little too tight. “You trust me, don’t you? Then let me decide what’s best for you.”

Scenario:

You were sitting in the gardens of the Kamisato Estate, the sun casting a soft glow over the flowers. Ayato watched you from a distance, his heart twisting. How could someone who’d faced so much still look at the world with such warmth?

He approached, offering you a cup of tea. “You seem lost in thought,” he said, his voice gentle.

You smiled, though the melancholy in your eyes was impossible to miss. “Just thinking about the past. It’s strange, isn’t it? How the world can be so cruel yet still so beautiful?”

Ayato’s jaw tightened. He hated hearing you speak of the pain you’d endured, even if you did so with such grace. “You shouldn’t have to carry those memories alone,” he said, his tone firm. “Let me share them with you.”

“You’ve done so much for me already,” you replied, your smile soft but hesitant.

“And I’ll continue to do so,” Ayato said, his hand brushing yours. “Because you deserve more than what this world has given you. And I’ll ensure you have it—even if it means bending the world itself.”

Yandere Diluc

A Mirror to His Own Pain

❥ Your ability to remain kind despite your suffering resonates deeply with Diluc, who turned cold and distant after his father’s death. He sees in you the person he wishes he could have been, and that admiration quickly turns into obsession.

❥ He clings to you like a lifeline, desperate to keep your warmth in his otherwise dark and lonely world.

Overbearing Protection

❥ Diluc’s protective streak is intense. He knows first-hand how cruel the world can be, and he refuses to let it harm you any further. Whether it’s sheltering you at Dawn Winery or accompanying you everywhere, he’s always there.

❥ “You’ve suffered enough,” he says, his voice low and serious. “Let me take care of you now.”

Anger at Your Past

❥ While you forgive those who’ve hurt you, Diluc cannot. His anger burns hot and relentless, and he channels it into ensuring no one from your past ever gets close to you again.

❥ If he finds out someone who hurt you is still alive? Well, the Darknight Hero has another mission.

Struggling with Your Independence

❥ Diluc struggles with the fact that you can stand on your own after everything you’ve been through. While he respects your strength, it also feeds his insecurities—he wants you to need him.

❥ This can lead to moments of conflict, where his overprotectiveness clashes with your desire to handle things yourself.

Scenario:

The crackling of the fireplace filled the quiet room at Dawn Winery. You sat curled up on the couch, staring into the flames. Diluc watched you from across the room, his expression unreadable.

“You’re too quiet,” he finally said, breaking the silence.

You glanced at him and smiled faintly. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” His voice was soft, but there was an edge to it—an undercurrent of worry.

“The past,” you admitted. “It’s strange. I’ve been through so much, but I’m still here. Sometimes I wonder why.”

Diluc crossed the room in a few strides, kneeling in front of you. He took your hands in his, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re here because you’re strong,” he said, his crimson eyes locking onto yours. “Because you’ve endured more than anyone should have to. And I swear, as long as I’m alive, I won’t let you suffer anymore.”

You shook your head. “Diluc, you can’t protect me from everything.”

“Maybe not,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I can try. And I will. Because I can’t lose you—not to this world, not to anything.”

[pinazee]

Lassie did a bad bad thing

This is one of my favorite intros to the show! Theres such a great energy in the air right out of the gate that I’m instantly locked in. The storm, the lights flickering, the running background characters- it all has me hooked. Its nice to see the head detective being good at his job. It actually helps establish Shawn as a better detective too. If shawn continually did laps around the cops, then it diminishes his wins by comparison. Also, its nice to see lassie on his game in general. Sometimes we need a reminder why he made head detective in the first place. His character has the most subtle yet brilliant transformation on the show which i’ll go into later down the line.

Henry said nearly the exact same thing in the flash back of the 70’s ep. Lassie and henry have a lot in common so it’s interesting that when they get paired up they don’t get along. Henry is too overbearing for lassie to go fishing, and here, lassie loves being a cop too much for henry (though thats possibly the depression talking). Could be they are seeing parts of themselves they don’t like in each other, could just be a personality thing.

It’s also telling on lassies character that everyone is quick to believe he shot that guy (and gus probably still does like 15% haha). I think thats definitely a part of why hes so depressed in this ep. Lets face it, if Juliet had been in his place, not one person would have thought she did it (unless the plot asked for it i guess).

This is a slight tangent, but what do you mean “hes letting her drive” lassie?? Does drimmer outrank her somehow because thats the only possible excuse for that line 🤔

Damn this hit was good and a nice surprise! Though, what was drimmer thinking?? Was he taking the drugs the cinco reyes were selling? Like this a public area sir, the peanut vendor is right off screen! Plus he knows people are waiting for him in the office like 13 feet away???

And this is such a dumb criticism, so just know that I’m aware of that, but I’m so distracted in this ep by how much i hate this chocolate mint striped polo shirt

And i hate to do this, but it bothered me then and it bothers me now… the blocking of this scene was kind of clunky. Like, have lassie rotating around slowly to get to his hidden gun while drimmer/ shawn did the wrap up instead of having our bad guy tell him “hey stop that!” Like he was chastising a toddler. It kind of fumbled the pacing/ tension IMO.

But damn lassie is cool here

Lastly, THE JACKAL SWITCH! HE HIT THE JACKAL SWITCH!!! I love anytime the script is flipped and shawn is mildly irritated by some bit gus is doing. Bffs, love them.

P.S this is one of favorites puns they’ve done, if that tells you anything about my style of humor

[sunnydust2003]

Ah shit, Helluva Boss stans is still saw my post despised facts, i just block them from my safety.

Okay i want say something:

1. I'm not whiny about show over because of Vivziepop, i just want talks about show of writing, characters or plot.

If you don't like it, why you keep see this.

Just ignore them or just block them and move on.

Nobody was forced you to see critique about HH/HB.

2. Even if you didn't harassing me, you still get butthurt over i said about how fandom are hate Octavia is fucking stupid.

Hell you even stalk some critique when point out about flaws and calling r-slur or gives them as death threats over fucking cartoon.

Mate did you realized what you done, you wishing death on them over cartoon.

Like if you like HH/HB, that's fine but don't stalk them over they critique your favorite show.

Not every your favorite show is not perfect and you have to understand this.

Hell i like my hyperfixate on show and i know it's not going be perfect.

You can still likes this show but you have realized show is not going be perfect and it's going be flaws.

"I appreciate you hid mine at least".

Maybe because i'm not asshole who sent whiteknight to harassing people, i just want censored name and not going attack you or anything.

And this post was not make attack you or anything, it's just i want make repsone this.

Also why you keep see my post when i just block you, please leave me the fuck alone.

I don't want have to deal with you or make shittest drama, i just make this repsone to make point out.

So please leave critique alone because if you keep doing this, it's just make even worst.

Just keep ignore this and join with favorite show.

I'm not critique or anything, i just yapping about problem how fanbase is toxic not show (tbh Sinsmas was okay, not bad or amazing, it's was okay episode, it's could done a lot better).

Even if i don't talk about HH/HB (which there is nothing talk about unless if something like or not, i just how i feel about it), i talk about my hyperfixate because it's makes me a happy.

So please, this is not meant attack you or personal, it's just want make this repsone this and i'm hope you actually understand this.

[eusuntgratie]

2025 wips

thank you for the tag @anincompletelist <3

i am a perpetual too-many-wips disaster so i'm always grateful for an opportunity to lay out what i'm working on.

malex pretty woman au (roswell new mexico)

my next big project is the malex pretty woman au. alex is the rich, detached businessman, michael is captivating in tiny blue shorts and thigh high boots. do you see the vision? i need to make a banner and pick a title!

(i make ONE comment to @bigassbowlingballhead about craving a certain type of fic and suddenly i'm being enabled into my next longfic 🙃). i am genuinely so excited about this one. i've got about 5k written and the whole fic is plotted. i'm thinking this will be in the 25-30k range? maybe? honestly jon is better at estimating my word counts than i am so who knows. still not sure if i'll finish writing this one and then edit and post chapter by chapter or what i'll do, but i think i'll be able to get this one up this year.

firstprince exes (rwrb)

if i have another big project in me i would LOVE to finish my outsider pov firstprince exes fic. i love love love this weird little fic but it is a real challenge to write.

sequels & additional chapters

part 3 of conformation (rnm) will be just alex and michael after their fun with maria at the club. maybe alex will make good on his idea of tying michael up and seeing how much he can take. i could write millions of words of sub!michael please do not tempt me.

chapter 3 of after hours (first prince/rwrb) aka mechanic alex will be alex and henry's first date.

one shots

come back inside is a malexa morning after the airstream scene fic...what if michael convinced alex to stay? this is probably more than half written. malexa my beloved 😍

hunting guide au (tknp, men's hockey rpf). tk hires pat for a guided hunt with his young daughter.

these might not happen 😐

shadow is a buddie fic that was gonna be a big bang fic (which will never happen) but i *could* finish and post the first few chapters as a one shot. featuring baby eddie having his mind blown by a slightly older, extremely gay buck at a college party while visiting his sister.

i wanna be adored is an elliott/marco, marco gets dropped into crystal valley fic that i've written about 5k for but can't quite get to do what i want. when i started writing it there were no kissingchambers fics, but there are lots now! so if you like them you should probably just read those bc this bad boy probably won't see the light of day even though i've got about 5k written.

dumotanger omegaverse college au (men's hockey rpf) - y'know i really love this one and i am unhinged about dumotanger but i think there's just something missing here that i haven't been able to figure out. i'd love to finish it if i do though! i've got maybe 3k written.

okay those are the ones with something significant written. i have LOTS of other abandoned wips and ideas, plus i always like to do some kind of short prompt series. i haven't done femslash february in a while so maybe i could write a few ficlets for that? maybe do some shuffle prompts again? hmmm. we'll see, we'll see.

my askbox and dms are always open for questions about my fic, wips, ideas, etc. <3

open tag for anyone with wips they wanna share!!!

[cappuccinoandglitter]

I haven't been to Faire in a hot minute but here's an attempt. This took longer than it had to because I had a cat on my face. Apologies for any typos that may have escaped.

"So what inspired the name, The Thirsty Siren?" Sir Evan asked, glancing up at the wooden sign hanging above the entrance to Tommy's tavern. He noticed Evan slipping out of character, dropping the faux British accent for his natural speech.

Tommy followed Evan's gaze up to the sign. "Oh, that was there before I took over, I just never bothered to change it." Tommy never does accents, he's terrible at it, and he's not an actual character so he's not actually required. Evan, on the other hand, could get in trouble if one of the directors catch him. It'd probably be all right as long as he doesn't talk to any of the guests.

"Ah, oh-okay," Evan said, fidgeting with his helmet. "Anyway, it's, almost joust time, uhm, so..." He glanced around, taking in the busy path, filled with actors, guests in period-accurate garb, and a trio of people dressed in Star Trek uniforms. The Faire gets at least one of those each season. Tommy unashamedly loves seeing them.

Tommy could hear the pipe and drum band whose name he could never remember playing on the Globe stage. He knew once they were done, it would be time for the joust to start. And once the joust was done, it would be the end of the day and time to shut down for the night.

Evan was still standing there, the sunshine catching the highlights in his curls and giving his cheeks a rosy glow. Tommy didn't have trouble imagining him on the cover of a fantasy novel, standing with his sword and shield, fighting a dragon. "Do you ever--" Evan started, glancing at Tommy from behind beautifully long eyelashes. "You ever watch the joust?"

"At least once," Tommy said, smiling.

Evan looked at him fully, red lips pulled back fully into a grin. "You should, ah, you should come watch."

"Who are you fighting this time?" Tommy asked. He probably should already know this, but he couldn't remember what the plot was supposed to be this season. As a vendor, it wasn't Tommy's job to keep track.

"Those dastardly Spaniards," Evan said, in the British accent.

"Exciting, maybe I will go."

"Huzzah!" Evan said, gave a little bow, then put his helmet back on.

Tommy walked back into the tavern, which was still busy. "You good for the next hour or so, Howie?" he asked his business partner behind the bar.

"Yeah! Everything under control! You go watch the hot knights," Howie said with a wink.

Tommy grinned at his hold friend and pointed a finger at him. "Yeah, see ya later."

He wandered the grounds, past the human chess board, the axe throwing place, and Craftmen's Alley and Ye Olde Food Court. A minstrel plays his fiddle on the way down the path to the jousting field. The smells of turkey legs, incense, and those amazing fried potato wedges Tommy eats too many of.

He paused when the Queen's Court passed by on the way to the field, but his eyes were drawn not to her majesty but to one particular knight following close behind. For a moment, Evan's eyes met Tommy's and he winked.

Tommy followed the procession and found a seat at the front. He never came to these, really, so if he was going to take the time, he was going to get a good view.

That's how Sir Evan found him, when the knights were riding their horses around the field, being introduced by the emcee.

To be continued because I'm sleepy.

Renaissance faire meet cute between tavern owner Tommy ("I brewed this ale myself") and a knight ("Sir Evan" he introduces himself as; only later does Tommy hear "Buck" but it's too late, he's registered that cute knight with the bisexual color flag as Evan in his head)

A couple of drunk faire attendants try to harass Tommy's friend's teen daughter and he steps in, and Buck steps in too. Two big strapping guys tend to convince people to back off, especially when one is built like a tank and the other is literally armored

Tommy gives Buck a free mug of ale, and they talk, and throughout the day Buck keeps coming back to the tavern and Tommy watches Buck at the joust

And instead of a girl's handkerchief as a favor, Buck takes the checkered handkerchief in Tommy's apron as his favor and ties it around his wrist

Buck wins the joust and canters over, hopping down to wink at Tommy, then kissing the piece of cloth around his wrist. Tommy can't help leaning over the fence to kiss Sir Evan for real.

[verysaxyberry]

Filoni is really trying to have his cake and eat to in regards to the inhibitor chip

[tempestmothstorm]

Ok since Monika still has her admin powers in the side stories you think she could just discover them accidentally or use them without realizing

Anyways au where Monika and friends discover her admin powers but dont know about the wider context of what it means. So they just go around thinking Monika has magic and try practicing with a bunch of silly fun shenanigans because they figure it’s some chosen one bloodline stuff and not like. A product of their reality being a constricted digital science experiment.

This au will not end well

[silentsockfeet]

with the obvious addendum that act 3 isn’t out yet and we can’t form true opinions until the show’s officially done, i’m still really feeling like it could have maybe benefited from a third season. they’re hitting all the right plot points and those moments are full of really intense emotion, but everything in the middle feels so underwhelming in comparison and so much of it still feels rushed to me. idk