Teahouse Jealousy
Teahouse Jealousy
"He was honest about his desires. That is a swordsman who knows the shape of his soul."
~
Things have been building for a while. Mizu is happy to avoid the topic, in favor of focusing on her mission. Finding yourself exasperated, you accept some help from an unexpected source.
~~
A/N: ITS DONE, FINALLY. Fucking 7600 WORDS of slow-burn mutual pining, bad communication, and jealousy. But hey, I did manage to fit in some spice at the end, hey?
Anyway, this is my first actual fic on here, so lmk what you guys think? Should I stick to lists? :,)
WARNING: this is REALLY LONG. I'm very sorry.
TW: jealousy, mentions of murder, mentions of sex work, SPICE
For this outing, Mizu insists on the boy disguise, your least favorite. You greatly prefer it when you can pretend to be her wife (of course), or even possible meat for the flesh market–because then she plays it up, a hand on your lower back, her voice dropped to an extra raspy register. But that last one is rare; you know the cost that playing that role seems to take on her, and you don't encourage it, despite the tingles it sends up your spine.
And you certainly don't complain about the freedom the boy disguise gives you for movement. But it does limit your ability to speak, as well as blocking your ability to get close to her side…you would never admit the reason you don't like it, but your reproachful expression says enough. She huffs out a sigh.
“Nobody brings a maiden to a brothel. You'll make us look odd,” she tells you, in the tone of voice that brooks no argument.
You wilt further the second she mentions a brothel, zoning out Ringo’s anxious questions; it was bad enough clenching your fists and staying silent while those two women ran their hands over her in Kyoto; now she's actually seeking such a place out? Your stomach squirms. Kyoto, and every moment of that visit, are burned into your brain. You share a trepidatious look with Ringo. You vow not to leave her side for even a second.
~~
Your explicit instructions were to “just look flustered and don't say anything”. That's not hard. You avoid eye contact with the working girls, and stare down at the table while you all wait for Kaji. The atmosphere of sexuality is stifling; it mingles strangely in your stomach with your feelings for Mizu, leaving you feeling on-edge, paranoid about being caught out. You could almost believe that these women, of anyone, will be able to smell the desire on you at a single glance. You've got Mizu’s fingerprints denting the very clay of your soul.
Madam Kaji, when she appears, does nothing to set those fears at rest. Her voice may be melodic, but you can feel her eyes scrape over you like a razor, as if they could peel back your skin and see underneath. You do your best to mimic Mizu's flat stare; after this long traveling together, you usually manage rather well. You've even managed to shoo off a few bothersome pests of your own in the past. This time, though, there's a hard edge to her smile that makes you wonder how much slipped through.
~
For all Ringo says about an apprentice should stay with his master, you somehow seem to lose sight of him in the walk from the corner where you were sitting to the hallway Madam Kaji pauses in. You remain by Mizu’s side. You don't feel any scorn towards Ringo for this. Nobody could say he isn't as loyal as they come, but desire is a powerful force.
Desire. Need. It's why Ringo disappears, and why you don't. He has his own desires to attend to, and you can respect that. But there's nothing in this brothel that you desire more than what you're already standing next to.
Madam Kaji motions to a small pocket of light at the base of one of the hallway panels. There’s a pause. When Mizu doesn't move to look through the peephole, Madam Kaji motions in your direction. “Perhaps the gentleman's apprentice would like to show him that desire is nothing to shy away from?”
You freeze like a cornered deer, meeting her taunting gaze with wide eyes. Her expression says it all; there's a test in this somewhere, a challenge.
Where the hell is Ringo. Trust him to be gone when there's something he would actually want to do. Nevermind on that whole no-scorn thing! You're going to kick him next time you see him.
Your pleading glance at Mizu produces no reaction; she doesn't even look your way. She's simply glaring at Madam Kaji. Challenges have never bothered her; if she doesn't want to do something, she just doesn't. Ugh. Someone needs to do something.
You look through the hole.
…Hm.
Honestly…it's not that bad.
Strange, certainly. The men in ropes, the writing, but you find yourself privately siding with Madam Kaji; it's nothing shameful. Just more of what you had observed while waiting in the main teahouse room. They're not bothering anybody. You consider that there have been worse atrocities you've seen in your travels with Mizu, all the way back to your first meeting.
You shrug up at Mizu. It’s nothing she'll be interested in, nor that she needs to see. She just looks even more impatient at the delay, fingers tapping on her crossed arms. The expression she shoots at Kaji is her classic get on with it glare.
Smirking, Madam Kaji motions to the final peephole. By now, you've lost your hesitation. If you feel anything, you're relieved that this is the last one. This shuffling around on your knees is not only making them sore, it's embarrassing to do with two people standing silently over you, eyeing each other warily.
You peer in.
At first glance, it seems to be just a man and a woman–nothing so strange as the other ones. The man is dressed in dark blue, his hair tied up in a knot like Mizu’s. But then the girl turns to the man, pushing his yukata off his shoulders; it's not a man, but another girl, bared to the touch of the first woman. They kiss, bodies molding together with no hesitation.
You tumble back abruptly, eyes wide, feeling your face flush so fast that the skin on your neck is prickling.
“What? What?” Momentarily distracted from glaring, Mizu looks startled by your reaction. When you shake your head in silence, worried that explaining would give your secret away, she glares suspiciously at Madam Kaji. She's clearly bristling at your apparent distress, assuming you've had a trick played on you. She reaches down to haul you to your feet with a rough tug to your arm, shoving herself half in front of you. “What did you show-...him?”
Kaji’s eyes narrow a fraction at Mizu’s brief stumble on your pronouns, and she smiles, sharp as a knife. With a little click, she slides the peephole shut. “Desire. A complicated thing,” she murmurs in that teasing, seductive tone. “We are not always ready to face it when it first finds us.”
She slides open another full panel, revealing a pleasantly decorated little room. A couple of the girls are in there, already, setting up a table with ink and paper. They look up and giggle when they see you both, their eyes lingering on your flushed cheeks. You can feel them darken again under the scrutiny, and drop your eyes to the mat until the girls leave. When you hear the panel slide shut, you look up to see Madam Kaji’s eyes on you. As soon as you make eye contact, her gaze slide away, to Mizu.
She doesn't look at you again until the moment of Mizu’s proposal.
You both can see the moment that the refusal in Kaji’s eyes wavers, but something else flickers in their depths when she glances between you, and you know what's coming. She wants to talk to Mizu alone.
With Mizu's husky name your desire still bouncing around in your head, obliterating your every other thought but how much you want her, Kaji's desire to exclude you makes you want to bite the woman like a territorial dog. You take a half-step closer to Mizu as Kaji suggests that she take a walk with the gentleman “one-on-one”.
“Perhaps the gentleman’s apprentice would like to enjoy some of the pleasures of my teahouse while…he waits?” She asks sweetly, her smile warm and her eyes hard as gemstones.
Mizu looks at you expectantly, seemingly unbothered by this; she'd probably agree to making you wait on the roof if it got her the information she wanted. You shake your head instead, giving her a look of incredulity in return. Obviously no. When is she going to start trusting you to stay at her side? What do you have to do to prove yourself?
“I haven't got any money,” you reply cleverly, keeping your voice as hushed as you can to disguise it, your eyes flicking up to meet blue orbs like a challenge. You can't really refuse, given that you're playing at master-and-apprentice, but you can make it hard. She can't keep shutting you out. Not this time; now you have an excuse. What prostitute will keep you busy for no money?
A brief light of pure, gremlin devilment comes into her eyes–it doesn't happen often that her rare sense of play is roused, but from what you've seen, that never means good things for the recipient. You should have known better; Mizu never tolerates being maneuvered into allowing something she doesn't want.
She holds the money bag out to you with a little shake to jangle it, and you deflate visibly.
For a moment, there's an unspoken moment of confusion and communication both ways; at first, Mizu holds the money bag out with an almost teasing smirk, clearly indicating let’s see how you manage this one. She doesn't see any danger in it. You can always just sit in the room alone. She's only interested in making a point; this is about negating your excuse.
But when you slump with such an obvious air of rejection, the playfulness drops from her gaze, replaced with a bemused concern. She'll be back in a handful of minutes, why is it such a big deal? This isn’t your fight, you don't need to be here to begin with, much less be stuck with her every moment of the day. So… why does she feel such a pang at your hurt face? You in turn see the momentary flash of confused guilt in her eyes, before she drops the money bag in your hands.
It startles you. You didn't expect that she would care.
Madam Kaji, watching all this and not missing a single beat, says nothing. She claps sharply. Two girls pop out of what seems to be nowhere, taking your hand with an air of false promise in their eyes.
“Ooh. you’re a pretty one,” one purrs, tilting her head with carefully practiced flirtation.
“We almost never see any young and pretty boys,” the other concurs. It’s like being slowly engulfed by the coils of a very nicely perfumed snake. At Madam Kaji’s nod, you’re tugged away, looking over your shoulder at Mizu with a distinct air of betrayal. You fully expect her to turn away, but she keeps staring as the girls lead you back into the room, her expression unreadable.
Even after the door slides shut, she doesn’t move, listening to the giggling emanating from inside, her hand clenching unconsciously on the hilt of her sword. It takes a prompt from Madam Kaji to get her moving again. Face snapping into its usual scowl, she turns and stalks away, leaving Kaji to try and match Mizu’s longer stride in the confines of her kimono.
~
“So, pretty apprentice, what can we do?” Asks the one in green, her dark eyes sparkling as they flick to the money bag still clutched in your hand. “How can we serve your pleasure?”
As attached to Mizu as you are, you’ve never been flirted with by a woman before, and you can’t help the blush. But even that isn’t enough to distract you from the melancholy of being left behind like a pet yet again. Waiting in the cold for hours on the bridge to Shindo Dojo, left in town with Ringo in Mihonoseki, watching her leave with Taigen down that narrow chasm… You shake your head, mouth twisting in tandem with your guts. What if Mizu never comes back? You know the trick she played on Ringo; you giggled about it at the time, you recall guiltily. But you can’t track like he can, even if you’re faster than him. And if she leaves you alone for something like this, what is she planning for the actual attack on Fowler? Maybe you really are just a burden she can't figure out how to shake…
“Why so sad?” The one in gold asks, her sympathy syrupy-sweet. She puts a hand on your arm, but you shift away.
“I'm sorry,” You say, distractedly. You aren't watching your tone as well as you should be. “I would rather be alone. Thank you.”
Silence. They don't move to leave, nor do they try to further convince you. You look up from your despair after a moment, becoming aware of their lack of response.
They're both staring. Studying you. Then they look at each other.
Before you can parse why, the gold-clad girl suddenly lunges forward, catching you by the chin and jerking your chin up, staring at your neck. Your smooth, Adam's-apple-less throat.
“Hey!” You yelp, knocking her hand away; she lets you go readily, already smiling with a distinctly cat-got-the-cream air.
“So that's it,” she says, smugly. “I suspected as much.”
“Is it…?” The other asks fascinatedly. Your eyes dart between them, confused, forboding building in your gut.
“Definitely,” says the first. They both turn to you, looking amused and intrigued.
“Playing dress-up, girl?” Asks Green, smiling archly.
Oh….oh no.
You go cold. “I…I don't know what you…”
“Re-lax. You think you're the first to put on men’s clothing in here? Didn't you see the little show we put on for you?” Gold waves a hand dismissively, talking out over top of you.
“It happens all the time. So, what does your man want? To pretend you're a boy? A new flavor to try? Or some training for you?” Green cuts in, raking her eyes over you. “Is he selling you?”
“He’s–…not–...my man,” you stumble. How to even explain that tangle? Clearly they believe Mizu's disguise, if not yours. You're not about to spill any of those beans, more than you need to. “And I would never stay here.” You pause, suddenly hearing yourself, and bow apologetically. An aching heart is no reason to be rude. “Not that I mean to degrade your work. I'm sorry.”
Both women look at each other, then start to laugh. Clearly they've heard worse.
“Then why do you look so sad?” Asks Gold once her laughter has passed, and this time she sounds almost genuinely interested. She pets your hair, gentle, like an older sibling. “Come on, girl, you can tell us.”
You should just tell them to go. But the room is quiet, and warm, and clean, after months of shacks and forest camping and inns full of leering men. And gods… you're so tired. To unburden yourself to someone would be such a relief. You haven't ever been able to talk about these confusing feelings; the only confidant that you have is Ringo, and you do not trust him with that kind of conversational grenade.
Discretion is the whole point of this place right? There are far worse secrets that they must keep.
Green leans against your shoulder, and this time it feels less sensual, and more like a friendly touch. You're surprised by how it loosens a knot in your chest that you hadn't recognized until now. When was the last time you were hugged?
You sigh. “It’s a long story…”
~
As it turns out, it's a long enough story to require two pots of tea–and then a relocation, as the girls drag you back to the dressing room to re-tell all the juicy details to the rest of the girls.
It's…therapeutic, to bare your heart to a group of open-minded, half-drunk women. They’re clearly connoisseurs of gossip, and they make extremely good listeners; gasping in all the right parts. You can't help but enjoy it a little, finally just venting it all out, lounging with the ever-shifting number of girls as sake replaces the tea. Girls come and go from the room as they head to various clients, but except for one they call “new girl”, who keeps her face turned away from you, they all come over to listen for a while.
(As you're surrounded by girls, slowly explaining the tangled story of your time with Mizu, Mizu returns from her walk with Kaji to find the room empty of you.
She pauses, surprised by her own disappointment. She can't admit it to herself, but she had expected you to have shaken off the girls and be waiting for her. You're always there when she comes back. Something burns in the pit of her stomach to find you gone; after the heavy deal she just made, she has need of the comfort you bring her–not that she'd admit that to herself, either. The images of you, somewhere in the brothel at this moment, half-dressed and flustered, makes her stomach flip. But then she imagines you under some faceless nude woman and her throat tightens. She sits down with a thump in front of the mirror and removes her glasses, studying her own face critically. It must be nice for you to be seeing pretty women for once, instead of her…)
“But why him?” One finally asks, wrinkling her nose, as you pause for breath. She's in a pink kimono–you think the others might have called her Ise. “You're a pretty girl, even in disguise. You could do better. He's hardly a looker.”
Your head snaps up, frowning in offense. The girls giggle at your suddenly icy glare, all warning Ise to duck, and Ise dramatically throws her hands up in front of her defensively. “Alright, alright, don't get your sword in a knot. I'm just saying…”
A couple girls nod in agreement. “Those eyes…” one murmurs. The white-haired girl in the corner turns to glare at her as a few others titter.
“Like a demon,” another says with a shudder.
Your fingers clench against your thighs, brow darkening. “I think they're beautiful.” Your voice is quiet, but hard as stone; the girls all fall silent, looking at each other uncertainly. There's a world of emotion in your heavy tone; a sincerity that they know, better than most, is rare and precious.
It’s Ise that smiles, slowly, with a dark, wicked gleam in her eye. “Do you want an answer?” She asks you bluntly, making you forget your anger in confusion.
“To whether he wants you,” she clarifies with a sigh.
You hesitate. Do you? If the answer is no… gods, that will hurt. And you know in your heart that you won't stop holding out hope, even then. You'll stay. You'll keep loving her. So does it matter?
But what if the answer is yes?
Slowly, wordlessly, you nod, stomach clenching. Ise smiles wider, and reaches for your topknot. “I know a method that never fails.”
~
Mizu looks up when you slide the panel open a crack, brow plunged in a deep scowl.
“I said I didn't–...Oh.”
You duck your head, wordlessly apologizing, even though you’re not even sure why. She only looks marginally less annoyed, watching you come in and sit down against the wall. Ringo is there, too, and he greets you brightly, looking rather pleased with himself. His kimono is slightly askew.
“Where have you been?” Her tone is sharp, her eyes sharper, as she takes in the tousled hair and haphazardly tied clothing on you. The girls had agonized over exactly how much to tousle you. That had honestly taken up the most time.
You shrug a little sulkily, keeping your eyes down. Part of you wants to abandon the idea, now that you've gotten snapped at–is it worth the risk of antagonizing her?--while part of you is still upset at getting left behind again. But the thought of Mizu picturing you doing… that…is making you blush yet again. Ise had explained what they were going to imply you did, which gave you a mind full of images that you know will probably haunt you worse than they haunt their intended target. What if Ise was messing with you? This is never going to work, you're already botching it by getting flustered.
In your mind, your avoidance is a dead giveaway that you're being shady…but to Mizu, the tousled appearance and shamefaced blush give exactly the impression Ise planned, and her fingers clench again, until the knuckles crack. Her lips tighten and thin, but she says nothing further, turning back to the mirror with a faint huff. Silence descends, but there’s a strange tension to the air that even Ringo notices. He glances between you two, gaining the worried expression that always makes you want to immediately reassure him.
“So, how much of my money did you spend?” Mizu abruptly spits at you, as though she's finally thought of an excuse to be angry. There's an unusual amount of venom behind her tone, harsh enough that Ringo’s eyes widen and he sits up a bit straighter, while you shrink in on yourself a bit. Wordlessly, still avoiding eye contact, you reach into your haori and pull out of the money pouch, tossing it to her.
She can tell as soon as she catches it that you haven't spent a single coin. “...Hm,” she says again, heat immediately bleeding out of her voice as her expression lightens. She surveys your disheveled appearance again, quirking an eyebrow.
“So why are you–” she starts, before there's another knock at the door. The panel slides open a crack as Mizu heaves a loud sigh of exasperation, her eyes rolling.
But before she can reiterate yet again to leave her alone, two girls’ heads poke in, and they aren't looking in her direction. They're whispering and giggling, completely unprofessionally, nudging each other, and staring at you.
“That's him,” one points.
“No! Is it really…?” The other gasps.
Both Mizu and Ringo turn to look at you, mirrored looks of confusion on their faces. Your expression is that of a dog facing down a speeding horse cart, unable to move, wide eyed. You regret agreeing to this; you want to sink into the tatami.
Their next whispers turn all three of you into statues.
“Ise says she finished three times…”
“Didn't even charge him…”
“He never even undressed–”
Ringo’s eyes and mouth all drop wide open, looking avidly between you and the door. Mizu is… frozen. Her face has taken on that blank expression that you've learned has all the safety of a rumbling mountainside. You don't dare shift an inch, but you can't help but stare at her. Your eyes slide from her stricken face to her hands; they're slowly curling into fists. Is it… working?
More giggling from the hallway, and something thumps the panel. It sounds like there are more girls gathering in the hallway. Another head pokes in, gets pushed back, and more sounds of muffled tussling leaks into the room. It sounds like most of the girls in the teahouse are having a little too much fun with this; they're probably thrilled to get to act out a little.
“Don’t shove–”
“Let me see! I want a turn–”
“... haven't had an orgasm like that in forever–”
“I can't wait to have a good scream–”
Oh gods above. Your face is crimson. You should have expected that they would go straight to vulgarity. Ringo chuckles with surprised and impressed delight, thumping you on the shoulder with one wrist like a comrade. This is so embarrassing.
One of the girls, braver than the rest, managing to wrestle the others back, calls out, “Mr. Samurai, can we borrow your apprentice?” This produces an absolute cascade of giggles and more heads poke into the door again.
“Yeah, me next!”
“Only after me!”
“You don't need him tonight, right, Mr. Samurai?”
“We promise not to break him–”
Mizu finally moves, moving towards the door with a speed that actually makes your heart clench with fear for the prostitutes. They all fall back, a chorus of shrieks and yelps echoing in the hallway as she almost seems to abruptly materialize in front of them.
“We're busy.”
Oh.
Her voice is so frozen with fury that it's a miracle she doesn't breathe out icy smoke. It’s a tone you've only heard a handful of times, always followed by blood spattering across snow. You can feel that familiar twisting ache of mingled fear and arousal in your core that you've grown to associate with Mizu at her most deadly. But this time it's complicated by a second layer of blending; uncertainty–is she just irritated by these twittering women?--and hope, delicate, frail, slowly blossoming.
Is she…jealous?
She slams the panel closed hard enough that there's an ominous wood crunching noise.
Silence falls. You watch Mizu, warily, as she stands at the door, her fingers still white-knuckling the edge of the panel.
“Wow, what did you do?” Ringo demands. You turn to look at him, startled. You were so focused on Mizu's reactions that you almost forgot he was a second witness. “How does that even work?”
“U-uh…I…” Oh gods, what do you say? You didn't actually do anything! Your idea of arousing is Mizu standing over you after a spar, the tip of her sheathed sword digging into your throat, an icy, smug satisfaction in her eyes. What do normal women find titillating?
“Come on, you gotta tell me. I wanna get with prostitutes for free, too!” Ringo gives you puppy eyes. “How'd you do it without them finding out… you know.” He gestures at your clothing. “Was it your hands? Is that the secret?” He asks, holding up his wrists and looking at them worriedly, as though hoping that that isn't the answer. “Wait–” he squints at you. “Where did you even learn to do anything like that anyway–”
“No more questions.” Comes the snarl from the door.
You glance away from Ringo to Mizu.
She's still got her back to the room. Her shoulders are drawing up in a hard hunch, free hand clenching tight again. The rumbling from the mountain is getting louder. You're not sure whether you should be exulting that she actually seems bothered, or be worried about the upcoming danger if she pops. She's not usually the type to explode, but when she does…
You both fall silent, watching as her shoulders heave in one deep, steadying sigh, before she finally turns around. Her face is composed, back to its usual resting glare, and you feel a bit let down. Maybe she just found it all annoying. All that, for no real answers…
Ringo stays quiet long enough for Mizu to return to her seated position by the mirror, but you can see him fidgeting. Before long, he leans over closer to you. His voice is hushed, trying to be discreet. For Ringo.
“So was it a tongue thing, or–”
THUNK. Mizu’s fist strikes the lap table hard, hard enough to upset the elegant centerpiece. You both jump and turn to look at her, freezing in place.
“If you want to know so badly, go ask them yourself.” Every syllable burns, blue eyes blazing.
Ringo, undeterred as ever, leaps to his feet. “I will!” He chirps, padding quickly over to the door. There, he pauses, bowing to Mizu. “Thank you for the permission, Master.”
Mizu watches him leave, her glare never wavering. After the door shuts, she snaps her gaze back to you. Your heart beats a little faster, as ever, feeling that little tingle that comes with getting her focused attention.
“You.” She jabs a finger at you; you flinch. “You. Don't. Leave this room again tonight. And nobody but Ringo comes in. Got it?”
Oh gods, she's jealous, she has to be, she's actually–
Now probably isn't the time to be cheeky and point out that she didn't put herself on that list. You nod. You've never been so happy to be glared at before. She wants me here. With her.
“Of course,” you say. “That's fine.”
Her glare softens at your voice.
You can see the way her eyes flick to your mouth as you form the words, and your heart flutters again. It's real, it must be, oh gods above– no way that this is happening, no way– You open your mouth again, unsure what else to say, but wanting to reassure her, to tell her that here is the only place you want to be. But before you can do that, there's a knock at the door again.
Mizu’s eyes blaze. She actually growls this time, turning towards the door with the feral speed of the truly enraged.
“I said we're busy,” she snarls, whipping the door panel open hard enough that it rattles the entire wall.
You see her freeze, as a soft, delicate voice rings through the room. “May I serve you?”
A pit suddenly opens in your stomach at the absolute stillness in Mizu’s posture. Even from behind you can tell she's staring at the girl’s face. The voice is so pure, so sweetly feminine that you can picture the kind of face it must belong to; a perfect doll, sparkling eyes, symmetrical features, neat teeth behind full, petal-soft lips. No blemishes, no scars, no days of sweat and greasy hair after too long on the road. Your heart twists; finally, finally Kaji has found someone perfect enough to take even Mizu’s breath away, and your chance with her is gone.
Is this how your little trick made her feel? This pain in your chest must be karma come knocking. The second you're away from this brothel, you’re coming clean; you can always say they just wanted to prank her. But you won't leave her believing it truly happened. No more of this back-and-forth of jealousy–if it ever was that on her end.
But then maybe she won't care by then. And I would deserve that. This pain is wrong, it was wrong to bait her because you were too cowardly to be honest about your feelings. She may have given you moments of jealousy before but they were never intentional. And now–
Mizu takes a step away, turning away from the girl towards you as she walks back to her previous seat. Her expression makes you pause on your internal journey of self-pity. It isn't lovestruck, or lustful. Not a flicker of a blush; she's all business. Her eyes seek yours out, a split-second look that you know all too well. The look that comes with a new, unexpected layer of trouble.
Your eyes flick towards the girl, now revealed as she steps into the room. She's as lovely as her voice would have suggested, tiny, exquisitely made up. But it's not your accurate prediction of her perfection that makes you freeze just as Mizu had. It's that you know her, from that bridge in Kyoto. As before, your every memory of that trip is seared in.
You don't dare try to catch Mizu’s eye again; this might be a problem, but for the moment, the girl clearly doesn't realize her hand has been revealed.
Just like that, the jealousy and pining take a backseat, as they so often have on this shared journey. Once again, you and Mizu are a united front, dealing with a new threat.
And through the chaos that quickly devolves around you, clarity comes to you. You didn't need to play this charade. All this time, all the worrying about who feels what, when that look Mizu shot you a moment ago says it all. In the moment where things got serious, upset with you or not, she trusted you to understand immediately. In the moment of trouble, she looked towards you.
–
When she comes back from her mysterious task, you're waiting in the hallway, too restless to stand Ringo’s chatter and Akemi’s sniping. Akemi had heard it all, of course, in the women’s dressing room, and she wasn't going to pass up an opportunity to needle you, since she couldn't seem to needle Mizu effectively. You don't doubt she'll blurt the whole sorry tale out to Mizu at her first opportunity, and standing in the dark in the hall leaves you with little to do but fret about that.
It hasn't been as long as you would have expected, when she comes back.
You look up at the quiet footfall, and pause, heart clenching at the sight of her face in the shadowy hall. Mizu pauses, too, stopping a little distance away from you, as if afraid to get too close. She's carrying her hat under her arm, and her face looks…gods. You've seen her furious, cold, exhausted, conflicted, even amused.
This is something else, something worse than anything you've ever seen. She looks bereft, hollowed out, her eyes staring ahead as though looking at some horror no one else can see.
In that moment, you move without thought of rejection. Something in her face just calls to you, more deeply than words, drawing you together like magnets.
You push off the wall and step up to meet her.
“Mizu…?” You keep your voice as soft as you can. She doesn't raise her eyes. Instead, you can see the lids lower until they fall shut.
Slowly, you reach up to cup her face; you expect her to push your hand away, but you would have tried anyway. It’s your heart reaching out to touch hers in the only way you can, and it cannot be suppressed. In this moment, even though it's the closest you've ever been, you're not thinking about wanting her, only wanting to soothe her. Strange that your first moment of deeper intimacy should come from this clear pain, surrounded by the trappings of lust itself.
She doesn't fight you. When you bring your hands to the sides of her head, slowly pulling the glasses away, she lets you guide her face down to you, until her head is resting heavily against your shoulder. Her arms remain at her sides, hanging limp. When your hands cradle her head, her hair, she shudders violently for a second with a little choke, remembering the way she cradled another head, and then subsides.
You stand that way for a long time, in utter silence, utter stillness. The only movement is a very faint shivering that suffuses her frame. She's breathing slowly, with an exaggerated evenness as though deliberately forcing herself to do so. Your mind is racing; what on earth could have produced such a response?
Mizu… what did you do.
You already know you aren't going to ask, and make her relive it. Maybe someday, if she wants to unburden herself… but it doesn't matter now. It doesn't really matter at all; you know there's very little you wouldn't forgive her for. And you could see the regret in her eyes, that no matter what heinousness produced this, she feels no peace in the aftermath.
“It was a girl.” You can barely hear her.
“What?”
“I killed a girl tonight.”
Your heart constricts at her quiet voice. She says it tonelessly, unemotional, but you can feel her shoulders tensing under your hands. To her, this is the moment; you, seeing the monster that she is, pulling away, refusing further comfort.
“A girl?”
A faint shift of her head against your shoulder that might be a nod. A chill runs through you; she feels your shudder and braces for the shove, the exclamation of horror.
“Was it…necessary?” You ask slowly, instead, trying to understand. You've never known Mizu to kill an innocent before. There must have been a reason.
You can feel the way the question strikes her, unexpected. When was the last time anyone asked her about why she does what she does?
“...I don't know,” she says bleakly, her voice cracking.
Another long silence; the shoulders grow even more tense. She almost seems to stop breathing. You turn your face to her hair, silently, and feel her body go loose again. There's nothing you can say to fix this; only offer your steady presence.
“... Thank you.” This time the voice has a hoarse, shaky edge. You make a questioning noise, your fingers stilling. You hadn’t realized you'd been stroking her hair.
“For not…pulling away.” Her voice is growing quieter and quieter with each word; she turns her face harder into your shoulder, as though she can hide her vulnerability along with her face. “For not… thinking ill of me.”
“Never.” Your whisper is vehement, your fingers tightening against the back of her head.
“You should.”
You pause; the contrast of her gratitude and disapproval flummoxes you for a moment. You have no recourse but to be honest.
“I knew what this path would be when I chose to follow. I will not reject you for following your ember.”
You're shocked to hear a faint sniffle before she straightens, and even more shocked to feel wetness cooling on your shoulder. She hadn’t made a single sound of weeping; not a sob, not a hitch of breath. You saw no tear slide down her face.
Her expression is a different story; as stoic as ever but for those red-rimmed, haunted eyes. She’s still staring into the middle distance, unfocused. At the sight of her, your resolve snaps; you blurt it out. You can't fix this pain killing her inside now; you can only right the wrong you had done earlier.
“It didn't happen.”
“Mm…?” she looks at you, finally, but it's as if she is seeing someone else.
“The… the girls,” you stumble on your words for a moment. You want to be honest about what happened, but now doesn’t feel like the time to confess love, not when she's so wreathed in this empty sadness. You settle on, “I didn't do anything with them.”
She blinks, starts to focus a tiny bit. “Then they-…and you never…”
You shake your head.
She blinks, then blinks again. She doesn't look immediately relieved, at least not straightforwardly, but she looks strangely more alert. It's as if the weight on her shoulders was heavier, but it was a weight she was more willing to tolerate. Her brow pinches as she seems to think of something.
“I'm…sorry you had to look through those holes,” she says finally, staring down at your feet. Her voice is soft, barely above a breath. “You're… not meant to see all of this.”
“It wasn't so bad,” you reassure her. “I can handle it.”
She shakes her head impatiently.
“This isn't how you should be seeing…I'm…supposed to–…” She stops, looking confused by her own words. You stare at her in surprise. Supposed to what? Protect me? That would be a departure indeed from her constant insistence that you are here of your own free will, that she isn't responsible for you, that she isn't your protector… and so on.
You laugh a little, warmly. It's not funny, any of this, but there's a tiny bubble of something warm glowing in your chest, something that feels as though it's solidified between you, and the icy wall of uncertainty that plagues your every step has begun to trickle away.
“I can protect myself now, thanks to you,” you murmur, ducking your head a little to try to meet her gaze as she hangs her head. The next words are hard to say, but you want her to hear them. “And, truly…I don't think there's a better place in all of Japan than next to you.”
She looks up at you, eyebrows quirking up in surprise; it's the last sentiment she would expect to hear from anyone right now. The eye contact in this moment is lightning-sharp; a myriad of emotions run through her gaze, her face twitching through what looks like guilt, shame… and then a deeper, aching longing. The potency is as intense as every other emotion in her, and it arrests your very breathing.
You know. In that moment, you know; the trickle becomes a meltwater flood, soaking warmth through your ribcage. You’re pulled into the undertow of ocean eyes that glow in the cocooning darkness.
Her lips press together tightly as her eyes flick to your mouth as they did once, hours so. She looks suddenly lost; too emotionally overwhelmed by the events of the night to keep her walls up any longer. Distraction, validation, reassurance… human weaknesses she normally scoffs at. Tonight, her last rest before Fowler, before possible death, she'll let herself be human. She will seek comfort from someone that will touch her like she isn't a monster, confirm to herself that she can be capable of love, softness. That after her revenge, a happy life could be possible for her.
“I'm glad–...” her voice hitches as she leans closer to you, then sways back again, uncertainly. In the dark, her blush doesn't show, but the flustered expression is enough to make your heart suddenly race. “I'm glad that… you didn't. With them.”
You can't breathe. Your heart is in your throat; its rabbiting beat is making you shake so strongly with adrenaline that you have to force your teeth not to chatter. You've been waiting for so long, with never the slightest inkling of hope…
“...I am, too.” In the intimate darkness surrounding you, your whisper feels loud. Her gaze focuses in like a beam of burning light; your own expression says everything.
This time she steps closer again without flinching, and you feel like you might pass out. The hesitant look flickers across her again for a moment, before her brow suddenly furrows. You have a half second to recognize the familiar look of determination that precedes every risky move before there's a long fingered hand curling around your nape, and a pair of thin, sculpted lips on yours.
Oh.
It's as though every muscle in your body melts away in an instant. The second you lean into it with enthusiasm, you’re enveloped; her arms are like iron, clutching you tight. It's every bit as mind-numbing as you had fantasized; the taste of her lips is tea and copper, blood-hot as her tongue slips against yours. Mizu does nothing halfway. She kisses like she fights; overpowering, ruthless, clever and swift. Every twitch of reaction is caught and dragged free of you again and again as that famous adaptability is turned on you and achieving your pleasure. Her hands roam restlessly, mapping over the lines of your body, prompting a squeak when they suddenly squeeze tight, nails dimpling your flesh, before sliding on. You hope that every time her fingers sink in, there's a mark you'll see tomorrow, until she's littered every inch of your skin.
Your mingled breaths are loud in the silence of the hall. Your own hands are in her hair, slipping down her neck, reveling in the shift of the muscles in her shoulders; you can touch her now, you can touch her, she's kissing you, she wants you, gods above–
“Mizu…” You can't stop the soft whine, muffled by her lips; it thrills you to feel her shudder in response to it, her arms tightening around you with a hushed groan. The hand at the back of your neck grasps a hank of your hair like a handle, tugging your head to the side with accidental roughness. The pain sparks like flint against the heat building between your thighs, flaring it to a roar. Your little hiss is choked off by a gasp as she buries her face in your neck and inhales you, deep and greedy, indulging herself, before biting down hard on the soft skin below your ear.
Your grip on her shoulders tightens with a bitten-back cry, lust shooting through you like a grassfire. It runs molten between your thighs, softening your legs until your knees buckle–swift as an arrow, your world spins.
Your spine thumps into the support beam, her front molded to yours as she pins you against it; you can feel her heartbeat pattering against her bindings, the sharpness of her hipbones against your belly. Everything in your body pulses with one hard beat of desire; it thuds from your throat to your fingertips every time you hear that harsh inhale of her panting through her nose between kisses, the soft grunts of response to each slide of tongue and teeth. You don't notice your haori part until cool fingers slip along your ribcage. You flinch with a gasp, your back arching wanton and shameless into the touch. The husky chuckle at your ear makes your core throb so hard it hurts.
Your thighs tangle together without a care to your surroundings. “Ngh–” Another desperate, muffled groan vibrates against the side of your throat when you press your leg up between hers. Her hips spasm and buck, her groan fracturing into something soft and needy–“ah-...ahh”--breath puffing faster over your skin; there's a searing softness pressing against your thigh, already damp through the thick fabric of her pants. In response, the lean muscle of her own leg presses up between yours, hiking you higher against the wall until you’re spread across it, your own weight bearing you down against it with a cruel pressure to the very source of your ache. As you’re yanking her hair free with a high-pitched moan of her name–
The soft sssh-thnk of a door panel makes you both freeze.
“Master? Are you out here? I heard–...oh.”
Mizu slowly raises her head from your neck as you turn your head. Is this how you die? Of embarrassment?
Ringo’s eyes are like saucers; behind him, the faint sound of Akemi protesting spills out into the hallway as the three of you stare at each other in silence. “What? What is it? Ringo? Hey! Untie me! Let me see!”
Ringo opens his mouth, then closes it again. A wide, delighted grin slowly spreads over his face. Without another word, he slowly leans back into the room, shutting the panel behind him.
You both stare at the door for a minute. Akemi's complaints can still be heard from inside. Then you look at each other.
You giggle first, trying to stifle it, horrified at yourself as it bubbles free. “Sorry, s-sorry–” you hiss, more giggles escaping you, edged almost hysterical. It's not funny, at all, but you can't seem to stop.
Mizu watches you, perplexed at first, her mouth twitching as though she's not sure whether she should be laughing with you, or not. Finally she just sighs, too exhausted to give a damn, leaning her head on your shoulder again. This time you don't hesitate to wrap your arms around her, nuzzling into her hair as her own arms curl around you tightly.
It's not okay, nothing is okay, but, this… this is good.
Into the silence, a woman screams.
More Posts from Yeli31 and Others
Art Student!Choso
Fauvism: strong colours and fierce brushwork
Smau: first 3 are pre-relationship texts spanning across 3 months and other three are established relationship texts spanning across a year with modern au!Choso, each pic is a standalone snapshot Warnings: 18+ minors and ageless blogs do not interact, you will be blocked
WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW — Toji Fushiguro
dad!toji x mom!reader
summary : celebrating baby megumi's first birthday as toji remembers the day he fell in love with you.
content warning: fluff, fluff, fluff! toji being a big softy for reader, megumi being a cute baby, mentions of foster care, reader knowing her worth.
word count: 2.3k
notes: I saw this video of a mom celebrating her daughter's first birthday like this and it made my heart absolutely melt. also, my obsession with toji is growing, especially soft dad toji like UGH GIVE HIM TO ME. i also think about the fact that he did change and the reason being a woman who showed what life could be like. my true roman empire fr. but to add a little more to the context of this fic, i chose the title because firstly the song, 'margaret' by lana del rey is about finding your person and the feeling of finding them. so i sggest listening to the sone while reading! anyways, enjoy!!!
It was currently 6 a.m. and both your husband and baby were fast asleep still. You on the other hand were wide awake putting together a special surprise for your baby, Megumi, who was turning one.
You felt yourself get emotional as you get flashbacks of when he was just a tiny little thing. He still is your tiny little baby but he’s growing so fast it makes you wanna cry.
As you’re tying the ballon’s up to his crib, you hear him stir in his sleep. Your heart jumps for a second but then see his little eyes flutter open. Your gaze softens even more and a smile spreads across your face, “Good morning, baby,” You coo at him sweetly, and he smiles immediately recognizing his momma. His hands reach up wanting you to hold him and of course you could not say no to him.
You lift him up in your arms and hold him close to your chest. You press a kiss against his cheek, closing your eyes and swaying back and forth with him in your arms.
Toji groans as he feels himself wake up from his deep slumber. He rolls around in bed and reaches for something that isn’t there. His eyes quickly shoot open and he sees that you’re not in bed. *Did the baby start crying?* No because he would’ve heard it.
He then gets up leaving his room and making his way towards the babies room. He noticed the door is already open and when he peaks inside he sees you holding your baby swaying back and forth with him in your arms. His eyes then scan the room and notices the balloons above the crib along with the birthday decorations.
It was Megumi’s first birthday, of course. His eyes go back to you and Megumi and his heart accelerates. The sight was beautiful, he wanted to cherish it and keep it locked up in his head forever. God, you were so beautiful and you absolutely glowed with Megumi in your arms. He never knew how love could feel so amazing and how easily it stared him in the face when it came to you.
It was never easy for Toji to love especially since he’d never felt real true love for anyone. Not his mom and certainly not his dad, he was alone for as long as he could remember.
Of course he didn’t care, he could have any woman he wanted in a matter of seconds. No women could change him and he was fully convinced of that.
But boy was he wrong when he met you, everything changed. When you met you didn’t immediately flirt with him. You just saw him as a regular guy walking into your diner because that’s what he was. You treated him normally, not throwing yourself on him like other women. It was refreshing to say the least.
But he knew why, he could tell by the way you carried yourself that you knew you deserved something special. So when he first asked you out, you immediately turned him down without explanation. At first he was a bit offended but he brushed it off telling himself he liked a challenge.
He continued to ask you out after and still was met with the same answer. He did this for 4 months until he finally sat down at the diner and asked you, “Why won’t you go out with me?” You stare at him wide-eyed as you place a cup of coffee in front of him, “Well, you’ve never actually tried having a conversation with me, nor have you tried getting to know me, you like me because I’m pretty not for who I am,” She says cleaning up the area around him then leaving him there to think about what she said.
As she comes around to serve some costumer their food he stops her, “But I want to get to know you, that’s all I’ve been wanting these past couple of months,” Your face is blank, a bit irritated that he’d step in front of you like that, “Then prove it, actions speak louder than words,” You step around him continuing to do your job.
He let your words marinate for a second before he paid for his coffee and left.
It was now the end of your shift and all you wanted to do was go to bed. You sigh as you open the back door to leave, “Hey,” You jump at the sudden noise, feeling your soul leave your body. You look over at the noise, feeling a wave of relief that it wasn’t some freak, “Toji, you scared me!”
He was leaned up against the diner’s wall. He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, “My bad,” You shake your head before taking a deep breath, “What are you doing here anyway? The diners closed,” He shrugged leaving the wall and beginning to walk over to you, “I wanted to talk,” You raise your eyebrow in confusion, “To who?”
“To you,” He has a light smile on his face which causes you to smile, “About?” He laughs as he puts his hands in the pockets on his jeans, “I want to get to know you,” You narrowed your eyes at him, “How long have you been waiting out here for me?” Your question makes him tongue tied and red with embarrassment, “I-…since I left the diner,” He mumbles, but you heard it clear.
“That was 6 hours ago…you’ve been waiting here this whole time?” He nods looking away from you, already feeling so much embarrassment, “I didn’t know when you got off, so…I waited,” You didn’t understand why but you felt your heart flutter a bit, but you quickly shook it off. He noticed you think for a bit but quickly spoke up again, “Can I walk you home?”
Your snapped out of you thought, staring up at him blankly, “Sure, why not,” you didn’t feel threatened by him at all, you felt more safe around him then anything. One thing about Toji is that the many times he’s asked you out he’s never made you uncomfortable. He’s never made weird comments about you, he was cocky when you first met him which was off putting.
But after you shot him down the way you did he wasn’t so cocky after, “Would you like me to carry your bag?” He asks, noticing how tired you look, wanting to lift a weight of your shoulder, literally, “Oh, sure,” You handed him your bag then stretched your arms over your head and yawned, “I’m tired,” You say as you begin to walk, Toji hums before he asks, “How long have you been working there?”
“Mmm since I graduated high school,” Toji’s eyes widen a bit, you’d been working there for years and he’d never seen you, “Seriously? How come I only met you 4 months ago?” Toji had been going to that diner for a while now, ever since he graduated high school, “Well I recently graduated university, like 6 months ago but it’s been hard to look for a job so I asked to start working full time.”
Toji did take you for an educated woman, as whenever you were disrespected at the diner you never took it, always standing up for yourself, “Wow, what did you study in university?”
“Social work, I want to be a social worker for foster kids,” Toji felt his heart jump out of his chest, Toji was a foster kid. After he’d left the Zenin clan, he got into trouble shop lifting which let him to get put into the system. Which he was salty and angry about at first, it was as if he was just going back to where he was in the first place.
But to his surprise he was assigned a nice family and a great social worker who looked out for him, “Really? You know I was a foster kid,” his words make your ears quirk up turning your head towards him, “seriously? Was the system good to you?” The hope in your eyes is telling, he could see that you wanted to change things that went on it the system that were awful, “Fortunately yes, it was,” I smile spread across your face that made him melt instantly, “That’s great, I’m glad.”
The rest of the walk he learned more things about you, your favorite things, what you enjoyed doing on your free time, everything he could. You were right, getting to know somebody is so much more important than whatever they’d look like. Of course you were beautiful, no doubt about it but it was just a bonus to the beautiful personality you carried within you.
You soon arrived to your apartment complex. Toji scanned the area, it wasn’t the safest part of town but he knew it was affordable, so he couldn’t judge. “So, where do you see yourself in the future? You said you’re 22 right?” You nod as you both stop in front of the complex and sit on a nearby bench, “Well, I’ve always wanted a family, small or big. An amazing husband with a baby in a small house in the suburbs or by the beach, just living happily and peacefully.”
He noticed the way your eyes sparkled when you spoke. When you continued to describe what you wanted he couldn’t help but picture it. You, him, and a baby. His heart pounded in his chest at the image, when you stopped talking you looked into his eyes as he did you. That’s when he knew, he wanted to be everything you needed. He wanted to be the man for you.
So watching the sight of you and Megumi swaying back and forth, happily as ever is a sight for sore eyes. He felt emotional, never thinking he’d get to this point in life, this happy. Even though he was partially raised well he still had his flaws but you saw those flaws and mere things willing to stay and work on them with him.
You were his angel, his peace, and his everything. He finally decided to fully enter the room, placing a hand on the small of your back making you jump slightly, “Oh my gosh, Toji! You scared me!” He lightly chuckled before placing a kiss on your lips, “You weren’t in bed so I came up to see what was up,” You hum rubbing circles on Megumi’s back.
“I was going to wake you but you seemed exhausted last night,” He looks at Megumi, placing a hand on his head and giving him a kiss on his forehead, “Thank you, honey but I’m okay. Besides, it’s our little guys birthday, I could never miss that,” boy did this man have you wrapped around his finger, you fell in love with him over and over again every single day.
“Well since you’re here, can you grab the cake and candles that are in the kitchen so we can sing him happy birthday,” He nods giving you another kiss, “Anything for you,” You giggle as you watch him walk out of the room, you look at Megumi staring up at you, “happy birthday, my sweet boy,” you bring him up pressing your cheek against his.
Toji comes back with a cake and a single candle in his hand. Little Megumi coos at his dad causing Toji to laugh, “patience little guy,” he sits down placing the cake down as well, you follow first placing Megumi down then sitting yourself next to Toji.
Toji places the candle on the cake then lights it. Little Megumi’s eyes widen as he sees the small flame but then giggles and claps. You lay your head on Toji’s shoulder watching the sight that made your heart melt.
You began to sing happy birthday to him and he’d never smiled more, swaying back and forth to the sound of his parents voice. Megumi’s was only one but he felt the love that radiated off of his parents and how much they loved him, “Happy birthday to you, okay baby, now blow out your candles.”
Megumi’s face tilted in confusion, causing you and Toji to chuckle, “Like this,” you said as you blew softly, he copied your movement but no air came out of his lips. Toji laughed, “Okay try again,” he whispered but instead this time Toji blew slightly causing the candle to go out, little Megumi clapped thinking he had done it. You smiled at your happy baby, then at your husband, you lifted your head off of his shoulder giving him a kiss.
“Thank you,” You whispered lovingly, “For what?” He asked confused, “For this, for it all, for giving me the life I’d always dreamed of,” His heart swells at your words causing him to shake his head, “No, thank you, you accepted me knowing I had so many flaws…and you changed me…you’re the reason I am this way. You are my reason, Y/n.”
You look over at Megumi for a second, who moved himself to crawl, “Oh Toji,” You coo, cupping his face and giving him a passionate kiss, “I love you, I love you so much,” He whispered wrapping his arms around your waist and bringing you closer, “I love you, Toji,” You nuzzle your face into his chest holding him close, but in the corner of your eye you see something.
“Toji, look,” you tap his chest and point over to Megumi, who stood up. He always did that but what you didn’t expect was for him to take a couple steps forward. You both gasped, quickly sitting up as you watch your baby make his way to you. You feel your eyes well up with tears and you begin to clap excitedly, “he’s walking!” you cheer excitedly. Little Megumi makes it all the way to his parents. Toji is quickly to scoop him up and kiss him excitedly.
You both celebrate your babies big step in growing up. Which makes you so proud but so emotional, Toji is quick to wipe your tears. He kisses you once more and smiles, down at you then at his son, “My blessings,” He whispers.
h1ghoffu - i do not allow my work to be reposted. please do not plagiarize my work or theme. reblogging and comments are welcome! much love! thank you for reading!
mark being a big cuddle bug ugh and you cant help but give in because its honestly so worth it and he has a hand on your ass because he says “its comfy” and you hate to admit it, but it is. So with an iron grip on your cheek you both just fall asleep before a loud blaring alarm goes off
𝗝𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝗺𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀
・❥・ Mark is NOT getting that damn essay done
・❥・word count: 0.9k
・❥・warnings: so much fluff, some mentions of being a pervert, absolutely NOT beta read
・❥・Now why have none of my real life boyfriends been as cute as him??? Also love you anonnn!!!!
“I’m giving up.” Mark huffed in frustration, shutting his laptop and slumping into a small, sad, pile.
“How much do you have left?” You fought the urge to laugh at your beautiful boyfriend’s misfortune. You lay on the other side of the bed scrolling mindlessly on your phone. Despite his anguish, he looked handsome. A few strands of hair fell into his face messily and his white t-shirt suddenly seemed much tighter.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
“Like one more page.” He dragged his hands down his face, stretching it cartoonishly. He rested his head on the headboard of his bed, his chest rose and fell as he took deep calming breaths.
“That’s not bad.” You crawl closer to him. You move the laptop off his lap, assuring it stays safely on the small bed. You cradle his face in your hands, his lips were pulled into a pout and his warm brown eyes trailed over your face like he was committing it to memory. “That’s like, home stretch.”
“No,” He whined. He was stuck between wanting to tear away from you dramatically or nuzzling himself further into your hold on his face, so he simply sighed loudly. “I ran out of things to say like five paragraphs ago. I can’t repeat everything for the third time.” You bite your lip to avoid cracking a smile at his dramatics.
“Oh no, whatever will my sweet boy do?”
“Don’t mock me! I need this to pull my grade up.” You roll your eyes. Maybe you would take him more seriously if he actually did his work when he said he would. “I’m gonna finish it.” He nods. “Get away from me, tease.” He pulls himself from your hold and grabs his laptop once again. With a shrug, you back away from him to return to your side of the bed. You barely made it an inch away before he grabbed onto your leg to keep you in place. You raise an eyebrow at his antics. He doesn’t say anything but you see him struggling to contain his smile.
You tug your leg back and curl up in your spot on the bed. For a while everything is peaceful. You scroll on your phone while Mark types away diligently. However, all good things come to an end. Before you even realized that Mark had shut his laptop he had grabbed onto you by the legs and tugged you closer to him. You yelped and curled a hand into his hair in surprise. “Mark!” You shrieked.
He wrapped his arms around your waist with a nonchalant smile, paying no mind to your hand in his hair or how your surprised yell was cut off by a fit of giggles. He pulled you into his lap and pressed you close to his chest with a heavy exhale. His warmth blanketed you and you felt yourself relax into him. You could feel the defined musculature beneath his loose shirt and it sent a pleasant shock through you.
“I thought you were finishing your essay?” You hummed, making no moves to get off of him and let him work.
“Shh, let me have this.” He whispers into your ear. He tucked his head into the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanned over your collarbone. Once again everything was peaceful, and once again Mark had to disturb the peace. His hand wandered further down your body until it rested itself on your ass.
“What are you doing?” You pull away just slightly to look at him. He shushes you again, his eyes shut.
“Sorry.” He murmured. Despite that he doesn’t move his hand an inch. If anything he tightens his grip.
“You aren’t sorry.” You huff. He nods and a small smile spreads on his face.
“I’m not. Just let me have this.” He repeats. “It’s comfy.” You narrow your eyes at him. His eyes are lidded and tired but he looks back at you with a playful expression.
“You’re a pervert.” You sigh as you lay back down on him. His muscles relax at your warm body on top of his.
“I know, I’m the worst.” He smiles into your hair. With one of his hands still gripping your cheek the other rubs soft circles into your back. You feel your breathing begin to even out as you lose yourself in the softness of the moment.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
You weren’t sure how much time had passed since you had fallen asleep but you woke up in an entirely different position than you had fallen asleep. When your eyes opened you were on your back with Mark nuzzled into your chest. His arms were still around your waist while yours rested around his shoulders. Sunlight streamed in through the window, kissing your face and giving Mark’s almost jet-black hair a warm glow. You threaded your fingers through his hair. He had been working so hard, both as Mark Grayson and as Invincible, he needed rest.
Just as quickly as you had the thought it was interrupted. A loud, blaring alarm cut through the room, leaving you scrambling to find the source before Mark woke up. The source was, of course, Mark’s own phone.
Essay
His alarm read. You half smiled as you closed out of the alarm. Alas, it was too late.
“What was that?” He croaked.
“Your reminder to write your essay.” You laughed as you carded your fingers through his hair. He sighed loudly as he rolled off of you.
“I’m giving up.”
interrupted
author’s note ; inspired by this art (cr. to @ ng_a10 on X)
the heat between you two had been suffocating.
his weight pinned you down into the couch, hand firm against your waist, the other braced against the wall beside your head. the scent of him — leather, musk, and something undeniably him — clouded your senses as his lips devoured yours.
each kiss was deep, slow, intentional, like he had all the time in the world to unravel you. his tongue slid against yours, coaxing a soft gasp from your lips before he bit down, teasing. you felt the smirk against your mouth before he kissed you again — rougher, needier.
your fingers tangled in his hair, nails scratching against his scalp as his grip on your waist tightened. he growled low in his throat, the sound reverberating through you, making your stomach coil with heat.
but then —
knock
you barely heard it at first. he didn’t stop, didn’t care. his lips trailed down to your jaw, your pulse, his teeth grazing —
knock. knock.
deep sigh left his lips, hot against your skin.
his entire body tensed. grip on your waist flexed before he slowly lifted his head, gaze dark and clouded. you could almost hear the grinding of his teeth.
“fucking hell,” he muttered, annoyed.
you bit your lip, trying to steady your breath. he looked down at you — your flushed face, kiss-swollen lips, the way your chest rose and fell beneath him — and for a second, you thought he'd just ignore whoever it was.
but the knocking came again, louder.
he pushed himself off you with a deep exhale, running a hand down his face before combing his fingers through disheveled hair. his entire body was tense., as he looked like he wanted to break something. or someone.
you sat up slowly, watching as he rolled his shoulders, forcing himself to calm down. then, with a forced, lethal smile, he strode to the door.
poor bastard on the other side had no idea what was coming.
| Park Jinyoung | Choi Dongsoo | MA TAESOO | Kwak Jichang | NA JAGEYON | BAEK SANG | LEE JIHOON | Seo Seongeun | Ryohei Kuroda | Shin Arim | Owen Knight | Paul Reynolds | Wooin | Ryu Juwon | Chris D’Char | Choi Sangho | Geto Suguru | INO TAKUMA | Hakari | Kamo Naritoshi | Jason Todd | Sylus | Caleb | literally any of your favorites!!
viltrumite mark is always finding some kind of excuse to be with his wife
a long expedition to another planet? oof sorry but he just has too many things to do on viltrum sorry *goes home and cuddles his wife*
Nolan banging his head against the wall because how TF is his son this down bad for a human, I just know he's SEETHING.
Anyway, here's a blurb, this is later down the line when reader is compliant for her safety:
"Dear, get up." Mark whined as he nuzzled his face further into your lap, you sat at the vanity rearranging your items for the umpteenth time, there wasn't much to do anyway.
"I refuse." He groaned into your thighs, arms locked around your legs. "I can't take the quiet or chaos of another expedition. I want to stay here, with you."
A knock resounded from the door. "Your imperial majesty? We're ready for your departure." That was supposed to be his cue to move, but he was still, his breathing soft as he sat on his knees and cuddled into your warm thighs. "Mark."
"Tell them to go ask dad. Or anyone else. Please, anyone else." He looked up at you with so much exhaustion and adoration, like he wanted you to lecture his attendants for asking him to do his job. You let out a sigh bordering on a hum, running your hand through his hair. "You can't stay here forever."
"No," he laid his head back on you, pressing his cheek against you now as your hand settled in his hair. "But I can stay for as long as I possibly can."
He wasn't moving, not now, not in 5 minutes, not in a while. Your expression became frustrated, standing up and ignoring his little whine as you moved away to get to the door.
"Dear— please don't. I'm not feeling well- I don't think it's good for me to go now-" His train of invalid excuses paused as he heard the door clack open a crack.
"He's still recovering from the injuries from his last expedition, check with his father or anyone with a high ranking to join you. Emperor's orders." Your smooth order was mostly imitation from when you heard him speak, Mark's expression went from surprise to glee.
The Viltrumite at the door didn't question you, they knew better. The door clacked shut and as if on cue, Mark's defined hands wrapped around your body and hid his face in your neck. "Thank you, thank you. I cannot express my gratitude enough."
You mentally cursed yourself for being so fast to break against that sad puppy dog look.
Toji hasn't been able to kiss you in ages, and it's not far fetched to say he's starting to go insane.
"So," you began, taking a seat on the armrest of the sofa where your boyfriend sat, "how's your day going—so far? How are you feeling?"
"Homicidal."
You laugh, and ask if there's a reason for that, but you already know why.
"Your son—"
"Our son, Toji."
"Doesn't feel like he's my kid when he's bein' the worst fucking cockblocker of the century." Toji snapped his head to the side to meet your eyes, and his scowl deepened ever so slightly at the sight of you—the can of soda in his hand got crushed within seconds.
"C'mon, honey, he's just a baby. And you know how babies are."
"Yeah, I do. Whiny little assholes that can't be alone for a second before they start cryin' for their mothers. I know you pushed him out of your vagina . . . or something, but he needs to know I had to push him out of my balls before any of that was even possible."
"Toji!" you scream-laugh, before clasping a hand over your mouth, wary of the fact that a baby was sleeping just down the hall.
"Okay, okay, that was a joke. But still," Toji murmured, "I can't really say I haven't missed you these past few days, because I have."
"Awh, Toji, baby," you began, rubbing his shoulder, "I've missed you, too! We should totally call Shiu—let him know his babysitting services are needed." You squealed, "You are such a cutie, Toji. You missed me?!"
"Uh huh, I've missed you," mumbled Toji, before he began to quietly add, under his breath: "and so have my balls, which have been real freakin' heavy recently."
hiii :3 i had a request on something angsty if you do that 😭 im super into mouthwashing too and love daisuke :333
enough yapping, but if you could do a thingy when it's between the 'hours of judgement' and everyone is dying... ermm, the reader dies a little before daisuke, do whatever you want for the death.
If not, then something fluff and just general dating hcs for daisuke 🥲🥲
HOPE YOU HAVE A GOOD DAY OR NIGHTT !!!! 😘
p.s you can ignore this if it's too much ^^
Judgment Day Has Begun daisuke x gn reader wc: 3.45k tw: major character deaths, gore description , jimmy being jimmy
Nine hours before judgement.
Jimmy's not right.
4 months have passed since the crash, and nobody's gotten happier. Hell, everyone's drunk most of the time. It's hard to feel optimistic when you're shitfaced and hungry. And Jimmy's only been getting more... unlike himself.
Daisuke feels things are a little better with you by his side, at least. It's embarrassing to say it out loud, so he doesn't. He, instead, shows it through other means.
"Other means," as in moving his makeshift bed next to yours. "Other means" as in sharing his meager food rations and extra sugar packets with you. "Other means" as in refusing to leave your side.
But Jimmy's still been getting worse. To the point where he's been blowing up at every crew member once or twice a day, yelling in their faces and looking like he's about to blow a fuse. Anya's got yelled at twice this week, Swansea once, and Jimmy outright refuses to acknowledge Daisuke and his mess-ups at this point.
It's grating to watch. But Daisuke can't do much against the now-captain of this ship.
At the moment, you two are sitting on your now makeshift beds, sharing a bottle of mouthwash. You’re in the process of getting drunk again, and Daisuke is definitely tipsy at this point. He has a bit of a laughable tolerance considering how much the crew has been drinking recently. He’s currently slumped against the wall, brown eyes hazy with a warm smile stretched across his lips.
“Y’know… the ship’s always been so cold. I need someone to warm me uuuuup.” He nudges you, and you can’t help but laugh. “Stop that. Your pickup lines don’t work just because you’re drunk.” He huffs, leaning his head against your shoulder.
“You’re no fun.”
“I’ll be more fun if you don’t drink all the mouthwash in one go. Lemme have some.” Daisuke hands you the mouthwash, lacing his other hand with yours and brushing his thumb over your knuckles absentmindedly, sending a shiver up your spine. He notices your reaction and smiles slightly.
“Sensitive.”
“Be quiet.”
He laughs airily, watching you as you drink, hazel eyes fixed on how the orange from the fake, cracked sky lights you up so prettily. He’s so fixated on the sight of it that he doesn’t even realize he’s said it out loud. You turn to him, a little embarrassed from the intense adoration in his eyes. “...you think I’m pretty?”
Daisuke blinks, then smiles. He’s drunk. He has to be. “...I do. You’re really pretty.” And thorough he stumbles on the word pretty, you can feel the weight to them. It makes you swallow hard, breaking eye contact.
“...you’re drunk.”
“So are you.”
You huff slightly, eyes fixed on the bottle in front of you, only a few drops left now. You mumble, a soft smile on your lips. “...You’re very sweet when you’re drunk.” Daisuke grins, squeezing your hand.
“Must've been the sugar packets.”
Daisuke doesn't know how you haven't figured out he really likes you yet. Every time he gets tipsy from the mouthwash, he says something stupid that gives him away. And every time, you never say a thing about it.
But he's just happy to have you as a friend. At least, he thinks he's happy about it. But whatever. He's too tipsy to ponder it right now. He just wants to keep his head on your shoulder and your hand in his for now.
Eight hours before judgement.
Daisuke has now pulled you over to the couch and the board game table, having convinced you to finally finish the game the crew started before the crash. He’s playing both his and Anya’s pieces, and you’re playing Curly’s and your pieces. Through your drunken haze, you get a vague sense he’s letting you win. But you swallow down the rush of happiness it gives you and instead focus on beating his ass.
As you play, you share your wired headphones with Daisuke, which are connected to an old MP3 player with hundreds of songs downloaded on it. They’re your only surviving possessions from the crash. You hum along to one of the songs as you capture one of his pieces, smiling triumphantly as you turn to face him.
“Ha! You suck at this, Daisuke.”
“I do not!” He retorts back petulantly, crossing his arms and barely managing to hide his smile. Both of you are drunk by now, too giggly to notice how close you two are like this. He takes his turn, accidentally knocking over a piece with his clumsy hands. He scowls slightly, fixing his mistake.
He doesn't seem to notice how you stare fondly at the little crease between his brows as he fumbles with the little pieces.
You’re so distracted that you don’t hear Jimmy approach behind you. So distracted that you only become aware of his presence when he yanks the headphones out of both of your ears, causing the two of you to flinch at the slight flash of pain at the sensation.
You twist in your seat to look at Jimmy, reflexes slow with the mouthwash. He looks pissed as he roughly stuffs the headphones and the MP3 in his pocket. You immediately protest.
“Jimmy-? What the hell are you doing with my headphones?”
“You two were hired for a reason, weren’t you?”
You and Daisuke share a bewildered look, thought processes slowed with the alcohol. Daisuke mumbles, eyes narrowing. “...huh?”
Jimmy’s face twists, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. “You two have jobs. Internships. Whatever. But you have actual things to do around here, yeah? Instead of sitting around on your asses all fucking day?” His voice is biting, edged with barely-hidden rage. Yuo stand up a little unsteadily.
“We’re taking a break. What else do you want us to do?”
“Fucking try to get us off this ship. I feel like I’m the only one here who’s trying to fix things and get shit done! You two have done jackshit for this entire operation.” Jimmy’s getting louder, hands twitching at his sides.
“Jimmy, we can’t do anything but survive at this point. We can’t clear the foam without risking dying, we already opened the cargo hold, we’re already rationing to hell and back– there’s nothing we can fucking do at this point. So stop berating us like we’re kids and give me back my headphones.” The alcohol has made you way more unafraid to talk back to Jimmy, slightly slurring your way through it. Daisuke glances at you, a little surprised at your words. Makes him smile a little bit.
Jimmy just stares at you a moment longer, face unreadable. He turns around and stalks off, leaving you and Daisuke in silence. You splutter, stumbling around the couch and after Jimmy. “What the-? You can’t just- give me back my headphones!”
“Wait! Hold on.”
Daisuke calls out after you, still on the couch. He’s still a little hazy from the alcohol, but Jimmy’s whole deal sobered him up somewhat. “You sure it’s worth it? He's just gonna yell at you like crazy.”
You huff slightly, eyes still fixed on the hallway Jimmy disappeared in. “I need those headphones. They’re the only things I have on this stupid ship.”
And before Daisuke can try to change your mind, you’re off chasing Jimmy down the hall. His protest dies on his lips, a strange feeling in the back of his mind. Something feels off about this. He sighs softly, slowly turning back to the game board. He absentmindedly knocks over one of your pieces.
Meanwhile, you’re stumbling down the hall, fueled by drunken pettiness and a need to get your damn headphones back. You finally catch sight of Jimmy turning a corner into a room, grumbling about something nonsensical. You quickly step into the room before the door slides closed behind the two of you.
The room was heavily wrecked from the crash, it looks like. It used to hold spare parts for the ship, all of which were thrown around and mangled in the crash. The wall paneling is all jagged, support beams sticking out at strange angles. Metal debris litters the ground. In the middle of it all, Jimmy stands there, hands shoved in his pockets, breathing heavily.
You speak, voice cold. “Give them back.”
Jimmy jolts, torn from his thoughts. He scowls, answering simply. “No.”
You’re left in silence for a long moment, stuck staring right in his eyes. Anger bubbles up in your chest. You can’t help the bitter scoff that leaves your lips, hissing through gritted teeth. “What the hell is your problem with me?”
“I don’t have a problem with you. You’ve simply stopped doing things on this ship. You’re lazy. You’re just waiting to rot away and die here-”
“There’s nothing we can do! We’re fucked, Jimmy!” You step forward, the anger of speaking to him burning the back of your throat now.
“There's always something you can do! You’re the useless one on this goddamn team. So fucking pathetic.” The way he chews on his words, the way he’s been so volatile this past week, the way he’s got the one thing you own in his possession– your next biting remark is a manifestation of drunken thoughts and reckless frustration.
“Fuck you. I know what you did to Anya.”
And you swear you see Jimmy’s eyes change.
Seven hours until judgement.
Daisuke hasn’t seen you since you disappeared down that hall to go talk to Jimmy. That strange feeling in his chest hasn’t gone away. In fact, it’s only gotten worse. The alcohol has worn off by this point, leaving him with a slight headache and an itch for water the ship doesn’t have. He sighs, head lolling back to lean against the couch.
After a long, long moment, he decides to go bug Anya to get his mind off you. He slips off the couch, walking over to the medical room and humming one of the songs he was listening to with you earlier.
But when he tries to open the door, it’s locked. He tries again, only for it to stay, unbudging. He calls out.
“Yo, Anya? You okay in there? Did you get stuck or something?”
There’s no response from inside. This doesn’t help his weird anxiety in the slightest. He tries at the door again, to no avail.
“Anya! Are you okay?”
No answer. He backs away slowly, before taking off jogging down the hall.
“I’m gonna get help, okay? I’ll be back!”
And as he rounds one corner, then another, he crashes straight into the guy he was looking for– Jimmy, who looks… odd. More disheveled. A strange red mark on his jaw. Breathing hard for no reason. And even though you were the last one with Jimmy… there's no sight of you around.
Daisuke stumbles back from the impact, taking in his appearance. Something twinges in his chest. Something isn’t right. Something isn’t right. “Jimmy! Hey, uh, there’s a problem at the medbay right now, but, uh, where'd… where’d they go?”
Jimmy’s eyes flash with something indiscernible before he masks it with a scowl, walking past Daisuke. He grumbles.
“I don’t know.”
Daisuke watches him go, standing there for a moment, eyes fixed on Jimmy’s back. He may be stupid sometimes, but he's not dumb. He turns the opposite direction, going where Jimmy came from. He needs to find you.
Seven and a half hours until judgement.
You see the way your words hit Jimmy, and with your alcohol muddled mind, you take it and run, voice rising. “I’m about two seconds away from going out there and telling them what a monster you are.”
Jimmy only seems to get more panicked, stepping forward, his voice quieting and getting more intense.
“No, you won’t. You’re not gonna tell them. Nobody would believe you.”
You sneer, stopping forward to match him. “They would. You aren’t some angel they have blind faith in. Swansea might even try to kill you.”
Jimmy’s face darkens, and you feel a twinge of fear in your gut at the look in his eyes. You get this gut feeling to run. But you don’t, even as he grabs your wrists in a vice-like grip, preventing you from stepping towards the door. He hisses, getting uncomfortably close to your face.
“Shut up. Shut up. They aren’t going to. Because you’re not going to tell anyone. Not a single fucking word.”
You feel that fear roar to life with his jerky, desperate movements. You try to pull away, fighting the longer he holds on, that drunken fire slowly leaving your eyes. “Let go of me. I just want my headphones.”
“No– stop struggling– say you aren’t going to tell anyone.” His face twists in anger as his grip tightens on your wrists. Panic fills your eyes. He’s not right. In a desperate move, you somehow manage to shove him off you, sending him back into a wall– hard. You stand there, watching as he straightens up, his eyes almost demented.
You feel a chill go through your body. You back away towards the door, hand gripping the handle.
“I’m telling them.”
You whip around, about to take off running when he grabs your arm and rips you backward, yelling as he shoves back into the room and shutting the door with a slam. “No!”
You shriek, adrenaline taking over as you whip around and punch him hard in the jaw, trying to get away. But he gets your elbow again and pulls you back with a strained grunt, throwing you to a jagged wall. You feel the ripped up metal scratch at your skin through your clothes, bruising you slightly. He’s just about to grab your wrists again when you knee him right in the crotch, sending him reeling.
You stumble past him, breathing hard. You should have left earlier. Fear rockets through your veins, sobering you up more than anything else ever could have. You trip on metal debris littering the floor, quickly scrambling to your feet as best as you can.
Jimmy is desperate. No one needs to know what he did, he can’t let them know, he can’t let you tell anyone, you can’t tell anyone, you can’t, you can’t–
He sees a jagged metal pole sticking out of the wall, the end sharp and lethal if touched. He doesn’t think. He can’t think. He only does.
So he stops you right as you reach the door and he shoves you right into the rebar. There’s a sickening squish and a strangled gasp.
There's a long, long moment of silence, the only sound being your strained breathing. The world seems to go still.
Your hand slowly, shakily comes up to your stomach, feeling the now-bloodied end of the metal pole sticking right out of your stomach.
Impaled.
Jimmy stumbles back as you choke on blood that rises up in your throat, leaking out of the corner of your mouth. You can only watch wordlessly, as he just leaves you in the dark, shutting the door behind him.
Six hours and fifty minutes until judgement.
Daisuke has checked every single room you could’ve been in. All the other rooms are foamed up or unusable, no reason for you to be in there. He paces the halls, his chest tightening with each lap around the ship. He should’ve found you by now.
He goes past Swansea guarding the foamed up utility room, snoring loudly in his chair. He doesn’t even pay any mind to the Polle posters decorating the walls.
He reaches the same dead end with no sign of you, and he curses under his breath. Why hasn’t he found you yet? You have to be here. You have to–
He hears the sound of a weak, barely-there call for help. Muffled by a door or a wall or something. His heart picks up. He checks door by door, even the foamed up rooms to find you. And on the fourth door, he enters a dark room.
He can hear the sound of something dripping and the faint, pained breathing of someone. The light from the doorway lights up the edge of a puddle of dark red, thick and viscous.
The lights flicker on. His heart drops.
You’re barely standing, legs having gone numb, only held up by the rusty, blood-soaked metal pole going through your stomach. Your clothes are soaked red from the waist down, gathering in a puddle beneath you. You breathe weakly, eyes wide and teary as they meet his.
Is this hell? Is he imagining this? This can’t be real. You can’t be… this can’t…
His body finally reacts, stumbling forward, legs like lead. He doesn’t know what to do, how to help– he’s shaking, hands hovering over you, unsure of how to help you in this condition. He doesn’t even realize he’s rambling, panicked.
“No, no, nononono– shitshitshit what- what happened? Oh– oh my god, there’s so much blood, I don’t– I’m not– ”
You cough up more blood into your cold hand, the sound wet and painful. Your whole body lurches forward with the effort, trembling hard as pain radiates like molten lava from your wound. Daisuke sees you weaken once the coughing stops, quickly holding your face in his hands and hurriedly whispering to you.
“Nononono– don’t– don’t close your eyes, o-okay? I- I’m gonna fix th- fix this. You’re gonna be okay.”
He can’t tell if he’s saying it more to himself or you. You slump forward, your head resting on his shoulder. Everything’s so cold. Black edges at your vision, but you fight through it to speak weakly in his ear.
“...y’ found me.”
Daisuke nods, trying to keep his breathing steady so he can figure out a way to fix this. He smiles half-heartedly, setting his hands on your shoulders, hands warm against your cold skin.
“Y- Yeah. I did. I always do.”
And through the pain that lights up your body with every breath in, every twitch, through the numbness that swallows your legs and hands, through the chill of blood loss– you smile softly into his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. He’s always been the one to keep you calm.
He’s always been the one for you. The one who you would’ve gone crazy without on this ship. The one who’s made you smile since the day you met him, the one who’s shared his secrets and sugar packets unabashedly with you. You feel your heart warm.
You mumble quietly, a hazy confession you knew you should’ve made a long, long time ago. You know you don’t have much time for this, anyway.
“...’m in love with you.”
And at that small, weak confession from you, Daisuke tears up. Because for the person he’s grown so close to, the person he’s loved, to be reduced to this? He wanted to confess a week or two from now. Not like this. Never like this. He sniffles, pressing his face to your shoulder as he wraps his arms gently, ever so gently around you.
“Don’t- don’t say it like that,” he manages to get out, voice choked and broken, “Don’t say it like- like it’s goodbye– you’re gonna be okay, I swear–”
The feeling in your body is receding fast. Your eyes flutter shut, breath coming in shallow little inhales, the pain fading to a cold ache in the pit of your chest. You whisper, words uncoordinated with the blood loss.
“L-Live. Please. Get off this sh-ship. ‘n don’t- don’t trust Jimmy.”
Daisuke can’t help but let out a choked sob at the sound of those words, hugging you tighter. He doesn’t want you to go. He can’t. He can’t do this without you. And as childish as he sounds, he speaks quietly into your shoulder.
“I don’t want you to go.”
Somehow, you manage to come up with the strength to run a hand through his hair, the feeling dulled by the numbness. You can feel static start to take over your vision, your hearing, all your senses. Your time is up. Quietly, you whisper, focusing on the lingering warmth he’s always brought you.
“...’m sorry.”
And with a strained exhale and a slight shudder–
You go limp.
Six hours until judgement.
Daisuke doesn’t know how long he spent in that room crying. How much time he spent cleaning the blood from your features, trying to warm your hands, brushing your hair back from your face.
In his head, he justifies it by saying he wanted to make sure that whoever finds this ship will see you for who you were. Not just an impaled corpse.
He really just wanted to feel you one last time.
But when he stumbles back into the lounge, he’s met with Jimmy brewing a mocktail, pouring in something he can’t see. Jimmy sees the blood on Daisuke’s shirt, his red eyes.
He pays it no mind, voice gruff. No remorse.
“Daisuke. I need your help with the utility room. You’re gonna help me get Anya out.”
evil smile. hope u liked this took me way longer than I thought but I guess it's because I'm a yapper LMFAOOAO
btw expect some daisuke relationship headcanons soon. much love to the daisuke lovers. okay bye
ok but think about….men who get carried away when they kiss you. their breathing gets heavier, grip gets harder, and suddenly they cannot let go of your lips.
Pulling you back into them if you even think about pulling away. Air? Who is she? They kiss you like you’re the last breath of air on earth, kissing you like they’ve been drowning forever, and you’re the first gasp of air breaking through their lungs—a desperate, consuming need.
Their hands roaming over your body, keeping you in place, keeping you agonizingly close. You know that it will bruise, but you don’t mind. How can you when they’re kissing you with such fervor? You try and make some distance, but all you get is a warning nip in your lower lip. But oh, when their hands reach your face, they hold you so tenderly, like you’re a dream they’re afraid to let slip away.
And when it gets too much—their teeth pulling your lips, chasing after you in a guttural groan, you try to pull away. To just breathe, even if it’s for a second. But as soon as you do that they dive back in, pulling you flush against them, almost whimpering, mindless babbles.
“no no, no. pretty you don’t get to do that, don’t go away. come back here. i’m so, so fucking lucky to have you. so sweet, you’re so sweet for me.”
And then they finally pull away, a saccharine string of saliva connecting your lips to theirs. It’s honestly filthy, but all you can think about is breathing, and you’re breathing them in, their scent clouding your senses. Their forehead resting against yours and then they smile. They smile as if they haven’t completely mushed your thoughts.
“I love you, pretty girl.”
──────────────────
Yuji Itadori, Yuta Okkotsu, Satoru Gojo, Rafayel & Sylus (L&DS), Ken Sato + your favs!
also: merman boyfriend (because duh.)
Does anybody else not imagine themselves when they read ‘x reader’ fics or is that just me?
Like you imagine your oc instead of yourself
Invincible!Mark x reader imagine
dating a civilian
The meeting had been dragging on for too long, and Mark was already exhausted. Missions, responsibilities, the weight of being Invincible—it was all piling up. But when Eve made her comment, all of that faded into the background.
"Mark, I just don’t get it," Eve said, crossing her arms. "You’re risking too much by being with a civilian. You know that, right? She can’t keep up with you. She can’t fight. She’s vulnerable."
Mark’s jaw clenched. He slowly turned to face her, his usual easygoing expression hardening into something unreadable.
"You think I don’t know that?" His voice was quieter than usual, but firm. The room went still.
Eve hesitated. "I just mean… You live in different worlds. What happens if she gets hurt because of you? Or worse? You should be with someone who understands what it means to be a hero."
Mark let out a sharp breath, his fists clenching at his sides. "You don’t get to decide that for me, Eve. I love her. And yeah, she doesn’t have powers, but that doesn’t mean she’s weak. She’s stronger than you think."
"Mark—"
"No," he cut her off. "She takes care of me. After every fight, every mission, every time I come home half-dead, she’s the one who patches me up. She’s the one who holds me when I feel like I’m falling apart. She makes me want to be better, not just as Invincible, but as a person. And you think she’s not enough just because she doesn’t have powers? That’s bullshit."
Eve frowned, clearly taken aback by the force behind his words. "I just… I worry about you."
"Then trust me to make my own choices," Mark said, his voice softer but no less determined. "I know what I’m doing. And I’m not going to let anyone make me doubt that."
The room was silent. No one else dared to speak. Mark exhaled slowly, shaking his head before turning away, ready to leave. "I’m done here."
When he got home that night, he didn’t say anything at first—he just wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, breathing you in. You could feel the tension in his body, the weight of the conversation still lingering on his shoulders.
"Mark? What’s wrong?"
He buried his face in your neck, his voice a little rough. "Nothing. Just… I love you."
You smiled softly, running your fingers through his hair. "I love you too. Always."
He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze full of determination and something fiercer—something protective. "No one gets to tell me that I shouldn’t be with you. No one."
And you knew, without a doubt, that he meant every word.
-
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