#please direct me to the corner of the internet where you came from | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pedrostylez · 6 months

Text

How The Crow Flies: pt. 1

Javier Peña x fem!reader x Frankie Morales crossover

Word count: 5.7k

Chapter Summary: Introduction into the HTCF world, Peña is a menace

Chapter Warnings and Disclaimers: 18+ only. I am not responsible for what you read on the internet. You have been warned! Locations and descriptions of places may be inaccurate in comparison to each story (Narcos and Triple Frontier). Timelines are obviously different between the two stories, so we are going to meet in the middle and say we are in the early 2000s. These are not necessarily canon characters in regard to how they act, how they treat people, and their current relationships. mean!Javier, violence, dubcon, SMUT!!!!!, anger, fighting, PTSD, mentions of rape, derogatory use of slut, whore, and the like

Please support by commenting, sending me respectful thoughts, and reblogging. I appreciate every single one of you!

Taglist: @thevoiceinyourheadx @suzdin @survivingandenduring @bariskaplans @inept-the-magnificent @casa-boiardi (please let me know if I missed anyone that was interested or if you would like to be added)

You used to be new to Colombia.

You had never really thought you would be invited to the Embassy as a guest DEA agent, struggling to pull your bag through the airport with your purse in your other hand, but you’d made it-and the heat was different from Miami heat.

But you had worked hard in Florida, stopping drugs from passing through the border, starting your career in the mail office, and working your way up.

You stood on the docks of Miami undercover so many times that you were considered the local siren, stopping drug mules in their tracks just to talk to you, only to find out that you were there to bust them.

Your coworkers, male and female alike were proud of you, happy for you. You had been blessed with people who surrounded you and were supportive.

When you got to Colombia it was like you were back at square one.

Your boss, the well-known Javier Peña, had a stick up his ass.

“Would you give these to Noonan?” Peña had swept by, plopping papers on your desk before trying to run further away.

You stopped him, holding out your hand and wrapping your fingers around his suit sleeve. “Sorry, sir. But what are they?”

“You don’t need to know that.” He scoffed, pulling his arm from your grasp. “You’re sitting in one of my agent’s chairs, and I need you to bring that to Noonan as soon as you’re done setting up her computer.”

You scoffed back, standing up and placing a hand on your hip. His eyes followed your hand, eyebrows raised in interest until you said your name. “I am the agent that sits at this desk, Peña.”

“My apologies.” He said quietly with no hint of actual remorse. “Still, please bring that to Noonan. Our new employee meeting starts in five minutes.”

You immediately regretted wearing the pencil skirt, thinking it would be a good first impression as if that was the reason that Javier Peña had mistaken you. From then on you wore cargo pants and a fitted t-shirt, like the rest of the team, arguing with your boss at every corner.

“I told you to stay here. And what did you do? You fucking went out there anyways.” Peña had this thing about slamming the door to make a point, even though everyone could clearly see into his office where you were standing, arms crossed, eyes rolling toward the ceiling.

“Jason said he needed help. I helped him.” Standing your ground came naturally, and Peña clearly hated it. He wanted you to bend over backward for him, just like Jason, and just like David.

“You don’t need to help him by getting yourself killed.” Peña gritted out, turning to you before sitting at his desk.

A quick mumble came out of your mouth, “Would rather do that than push your pencils around like some secretary.”

“Are you going to hold that against me for the rest of the time you’re here? Because if that’s the case then maybe you should go back to Miami.” He was back standing, pointing at you and what he assumed was the general direction of Florida. Sweat beaded at his hairline, eyes dark with annoyance.

“I’m not holding anything against you, boss.” You snark, twisting around to the door to look out into the bullpen, where everyone is pretending to not watch. “Are we all done here?”

Peña was quick to brush you off after staring, motioning at the door resting his hands on his hips, and pacing behind his desk.

But then after a successful mission, Peña brought you and the others out for drinks. A Friday celebration for “catching the bad guys” as Jason had always said, downing the free beer that his boss provided.

You were all for taking advantage of Peña’s money if he was going to pay for drinks. Quick to order tequila sodas, letting them slide down your throat like water and sway back and forth as you spoke with office staff and the other agents.

You avoided Peña like the plague. Any time you turned your head you saw his back towards you, speaking to any girl he could find that wasn’t part of the team he was paying for.

One too many tequila sodas had you stumbling to the bathroom, struggling with the button of your pants, and taking much longer than you had the last time you went. You were thinking that it is about time to take yourself home, walk down the sidewalk for some fresh air, and then hail a cab, but when you finally manage to get out of the bathroom of this bar, your coworkers are filing out.

“Where are y’all going?” You slur to Jason who is holding the door open for one of the archive girls. It’s like he doesn’t even hear you, stepping through the door wrapping his arm around her shoulder, and whispering in her ear.

You mumble out a few curse words, turning toward the bar counter where that same head that you had been staring at all night is now facing you. His eyes are watchful, glass to his pouted lips as he takes a sip of what looks to be whiskey. “You want water?”

“Another tequila would be nice.” You perk up, slouching into the seat next to him with hooded eyes. In the back of your mind, you’re aware that you will be having a hangover tomorrow but don’t care enough to stop it.

Peña motions at the bartender, nodding at you to indicate that you would like another drink. He takes a beat before saying, “So, you still mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you.” You hiccup, furrowing your brow as the bartender sets a glass in front of you. You take a sip, noticing that there is no fizz, and know immediately that you’ve been cut off. “Damn, he gave me a water.”

He chuckles, draining his glass and turning fully towards you. His eyes scan behind you and the surrounding area before settling on your face. “I shouldn’t have assumed you were Noonan’s secretary.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” You sigh, taking another sip of the water. You’re suddenly extremely thirsty.

Peña waits for you to say more, but shakes his head when you begin tapping your fingers against the counter. “I’m trying to apologize.” He huffs out, resting his head on one hand, propped against the bar.

“You are?” You laugh, pushing the glass of water away. “I didn’t hear one.”

“I wasn’t thinking, that day I walked in and asked you to go to Noonan.” He sighs, explaining himself. Still not an apology. “I’ve been under a lot of pressure to get this right this time, and I was told I was having a female agent added to my team that had done great things in Miami but didn’t know anything beyond your name.”

You shrug, sliding off your seat. “Okay, boss. No big deal. It was months ago.” You give in, thinking it’s about time to walk home.

When you stumble away from Peña, he reaches for your arm to hold you up, hissing out between his teeth. “You need a ride home.”

“No, I’m fine.” His hand is warm at your elbow, seeping through his skin to yours so quickly that you break out in a shiver. You attempt to yank your arm away, but his grip is firm and guiding.

If he notices you trying to pull away from him or the shiver, he doesn’t say anything. “Wasn’t asking.”

You think you roll your eyes, but you’re not too sure based on how the room is moving around you. “Haven’t you drunk too?” Your hand twists out to grip his shoulder, too dizzy to be pulling away now.

“Not as much as you.” He mumbles with a short chuckle, guiding you to the door after slipping the bartender some bills. You aren’t sure how much he’s paid, but you think it’s a lot based on how happy the guy looks.

The typically humid air is crisp against your skin as you step out, and you can’t help but curl your fingers into the sleeve of his shirt. The noises around you feel muffled, and when you turn to Peña he’s already looking at you expectantly. “What?”

He huffs out his nose, trying to keep his composure. “Where do you live? In the same block as the other agents or somewhere else?”

You shake your head, confused by his question but tell him your address anyways. “I can make it home–”

“No.” He cuts you off, lightly pressing into the small of your back to lead you toward his Jeep. “You’ve had more to drink than others, and I need you to be ready by Monday.”

“Oh, I’m definitely calling in sick Monday.” You hiccup, grabbing onto the handle of his car as you hop into the passenger seat.

Peña walks around to the driver's side, sliding in and watching you as you buckle in clumsily. “Don’t get sick in my car.”

“No promises.” You mumble, laying your head back against the headrest and shutting your eyes as he pulls away from the curb. The drive feels familiar, turning at the right moments, and the hum of his car seems to have you slipping into sleep.

You didn’t realize you had fallen asleep until Peña’s warm hand was on your elbow again, shaking it gently. “Hey, you awake?”

You startle, sitting up straight and looking out the windshield before flashing your eyes over to him, glancing down at his fingers drifting over your elbow in soothing circles. You clear your throat, reaching for his door handle. “Yeah, sorry.”

“S’alright.” He reaches for his own door, gets out, and walks around the front of the car to where you are stumbling toward your door. “Where’s your key?” You mumble incoherently, reaching into your pocket and dangling the key in front of him for a moment before he snatches it out of your hand and into the lock. “Let me make sure you don’t get sick all over yourself.”

“I’m not even that drunk.” You scoff, brushing past him to the bathroom. You are mostly just dizzy, a nasty side effect of tequila that you’ve never been able to curb. “Since you invited yourself in, there’s soda in the fridge.” You clip from your mirror, reaching for a washing rag and turning on the water.

“What, no beer?” He calls, chuckling quietly before you hear the sound of the fridge opening, his footsteps going quiet when he gets back to your living room and sits on the couch.

When you’ve finished scrubbing your face, you step back into the living room and see Peña with his soda half tilted up, glancing at you and down to your coffee table where a glass of water is waiting. “Thanks, boss.” You mumble, sitting on the other side of the couch and taking a sip.

He nods, eyeing you quietly before setting the half-empty bottle in front of him. “Javi is fine.”

You quirk your eyebrow at him, humming to yourself before taking another sip. “Are we getting personal now?”

Peña squints at you, pursing his lips to hide a smile that seems to be growing on his lips. “Only if you tell me something personal.”

You scoff, setting down your glass and leaning back. The air conditioner in your apartment is only in the bedroom, leaking out into the rest of the living space slowly and heavily along the ground. Your toes are cold, realizing suddenly that you have taken off your shoes and it seems like Peña did as well, his toes wiggling under his socks. “Something personal? What do you want to know?”

He shrugs. “Anything. I don’t know much about you at all besides that you worked your way up in a field that isn’t kind to women, and moved here from Miami on recommendation from Noonan to help catch the Cali cartel.”

You tilt your head over to him to watch him, his arm flexing as he reaches for his soda again. You feel this sudden urge to lean forward and touch his arm– “I hate the heat.” You blurt, stopping yourself from reaching for him as he looks at you inquisitively. “I-I grew up in Utica, New York. Love the snow.”

He smiles, nodding his head. “Why did you go to Miami, if you hate the heat?”

You shrug. “Wanted to be different.” You laugh to yourself, leaning forward again for your glass. “Couldn’t stand staying in the same town, or just moving to the next city over like all my friends did.”

As you’re talking your hand knocks the glass off the coffee table, water spilling over your feet and onto the carpet. You jump, leaning toward Peña to lift your feet off the floor before they get wet, but you aren’t quick enough. “S’alright. Let me get a towel.” He says quietly, grabbing the glass from the floor and his soda before heading to the kitchen.

When he returns with a kitchen towel that you think was hanging on the oven’s handle, you don’t expect him to sit so close and wrap his hand around your calf and lift it onto his lap. He wipes at your feet gently, hand still holding you steady as he glances up at you. “Texas.” He clears his throat, looking unsure before he continues. “I grew up in Texas. The heat was different than here, but…I’ve never seen snow.”

You smirk, watching as he slows his movements and rubs his thumb along your calf. “You’d probably hate it like everyone does.”

You both stare at each other, not sure if you should pull your leg away, ask him to leave and thank him for the ride, or see where this goes.

You start to pull away, realizing that this is your boss for fucks sake when he tightens his grip. “I’ve always wanted to see snow on Christmas. With the lights and real snowmen…” He pauses, leaning forward and flicking his gaze to your mouth. “I don’t think I would hate it.”

You gasp when his hand slides up your leg to behind your knee, pulling you closer and over his lap more. “Peña–”

“Javi.” He breathes, taking a deep breath that expands his chest and has the buttons straining under the pressure. “I-it’s Javi.”

Your head is swimming with the feeling of his hand on you, over and over, looking from his parted mouth to his eyes. His pupils dilate, his hand tightening around you in anticipation as you start to lean forward.

Your eyelashes flutter, closing for a moment before opening them again and finding your nose brushing against his, his eyes cast down to watch you ponder the next best move. “Javi,” You whisper hoarsely, swearing you can taste the mix of whiskey and soda in his mouth from how he lets his bottom lip run against yours. “You’re my boss.”

He nods quickly, the bridge of his nose running against yours as he takes a deep breath. “I know.”

It’s only another split second before you make the decision, tilting your chin towards him and sealing your mouth to his.

He groans, wrapping his hand around the back of your head and into your hair to hold you to him. He swirls his tongue with yours, eager and ready to have you against him and not moving away to take a breath.

He pulls you closer, bracketing his own hips with your thighs, digging his fingers into your hips to hold you against him. When you begin rolling your center against his, your jeans in the way of each other, he holds you firm. “Don’t do that.” He swallows, shaking his head and looking up at you. “Unless you want me to fuck you right now.”

On wobbly legs you stand, pushing away from him enough that you can reach for the button of your pants, sliding the material down your thighs. You break out in a shiver, forgetting how heavy the air feels right now.

Javi reaches out with one hand, running his fingers down the side of your thigh before leaning forward to wrap his hand fully around you. His other hand is expertly undoing his own jeans, eyes on you, and a smirk rising on his face. “Needy, aren’t you?”

Biting your lip has little effect on your ability to keep your noises at bay, a groan coming out of your mouth as his fingers grip into the plush skin on your ass. “You’re just as bad.”

“Oh really?” He laughs, pulling you to your previous position hovering over him. “Work for it then.”

Your thoughts stutter, furrowing your brow as you shakily bring a hand down to the opening of his pants. Gently wrapping your fingers around him, jeans halfway down his thighs already and not a pair of boxers in sight, you swear your mouth begins to water. You glance back up to his face, his knowing wink giving you pause. “What do you want me to do?”

He tilts his head, a small smile rising before he licks his lower lip. “Don’t just stare at it, ride it.”

You gasp at how quickly he reaches forward and slides your panties to the side. His finger glides at your center, opening you up to feel how slick you’ve gotten for him. He groans, satisfied with what he finds as he holds the fabric with his thumb, his other hand roughly guiding you by the hip to sit lower.

The head of his cock presses into you in one instant, and in the next, you’re fully seated on top of him. Thighs tight, a sheen of sweat covering your forehead, you whine at the feeling of him inside you. He shushes you, bringing one bruising hand up from your hip to your face, moving your hair out of your eyes. “I know, Hermosa. Too big for you, huh?” You nod, feeling faint as you shut your eyes for a moment. He taps roughly with two fingers on your cheek. “Easy now, don’t lose focus.”

Your eyes snap open as he shifts his hips up, his hair at the base of his shaft rubbing against your clit. He begins thrusting, holding you steady by where his hand is placed on your cheek, digging into the hair at the nape of your neck. Your mouth opens, slack-jawed at the feeling of him thrusting up into you.

“That’s it.” He growls, pulling your head back tighter. “Just like that.” He pistons up, leaning further back on your couch and pulling you away from him so he can better get a view of you. You’re taking it, turned on, and pretty sure you’re ruining his jeans in the process.

He doesn’t last long, and neither do you. His words, forced through his teeth and puffing breaths spur you on to the finish line, his own orgasm leaving a mess on your underwear and stomach. He pulls out quickly, hurriedly rubbing at himself with your slick covering him before closing his eyes and moaning as ropes of his spend stick to you.

Standing on shaking legs, you walk toward your bathroom, grabbing a towel and wiping yourself off before looking in the mirror briefly. You look like you’ve been fucked-hair a nest on your head, your underwear wet. When you step back out toward the living room, ready to offer him a towel or the shower, you stop dead in your tracks when you don’t see him immediately.

Confused, you step into the kitchen, looking around briefly before stepping back into your living room. The soda is half gone on your coffee table, and the kitchen towel that he brought is tossed haphazardly on the couch. You look toward your front door and notice his boots are gone just as the lights from a car shine through your window. Peña had just fucked you and ditched.

It hadn’t really been a surprise to you that Peña wanted to pretend like nothing had happened. Just a quick fuck, and nothing serious-you could handle that. Peña must have thought you would be beating down his door because he avoided you for two full weeks before reappearing in the office at the same time you were there.

You had continued on; business as usual.

It surprised Peña so much that when you had gone into his office to give him reports to review and then left soon after, he was at your apartment that night asking what your issue was.

“It was a one-time thing.” Peña was circling your island, rubbing at his jaw and eyeing you every once in a while.

“I figured.” You roll your eyes, leaning against the doorway. “Do you have something you need me to do, related to our job? Because if not, can you just leave?”

“Was I more hammered than I thought?” He questioned, looking at you incredulously. “I swear you came.”

“I did.” You confirm.

“Then, how are you…are you not? I don’t-” he growled frustrated, running his hands through his hair.

“I’m not obsessed with you. Is that what you’re asking?” You laugh, shaking your head. “We were drunk, we fucked. You’re my boss, I’m your employee. Let’s just move on. Now will you leave?”

“I don’t want you to be obsessed with me.” He says quietly, face going red with embarrassment.

“Great, I’m not.” You shrug, tapping your fingers against your pant leg.

He stares at you, grinding his teeth before he steps toward where you appear relaxed. He’s silent as he reaches out, running the back of his finger against your exposed arm. You shiver, rolling your eyes at how he smiles.

You tilt your head at him, asking with your eyes what are you doing? As he shrugs, he kneels in front of you, hands coming up to hover over your pants. “Let me feel you, hermosa.”

You and Peña continued like this, back and forth for weeks. He would eye you a certain way after berating you in his office as code to meet in the archives.

You would say something snarky with Jason and David looking on, and he would show up at your apartment later that night.

Or sometimes, you both would stay late, working until you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore to then look up and see Peña still sitting at his desk in a similar state as you were. He would sigh heavily, call you into his office, and tell you to go home like everyone else had.

You never did.

This seemed to be the most stable thing in your life, even though you and Peña were not an item, and adamantly told each other so when he was deep inside you or when your throat was constricting around him.

You thought everything was routine at this point-yeah, you fucked your boss, and you still argued with him, but the job wasn’t bad. You were making headway into things that Peña and your team worked on extensively to get to the bottom of the cartel. And when you were having another meeting with Peña, Jason, and David, you were shocked to find out that Peña had a new job for you.

“I need you to go into the jungle.” He said, looking directly at you with a pinched mouth.

You stared at him, trying to assess what that exactly meant as Jason and David stared between the two of you. “And do what, exactly?” You question, flicking your eyes over him.

“I need intel on Gabriel Loreas. He is an upcoming drug dealer that is supposed to be the local cops' responsibility.” He says quickly, flipping through the file on his desk before leaning back and crossing his feet.

“So why have her go out there?” Jason questions quietly, concern covering his face.

Peña’s eyes flash in anger, raking over Jason. “Because I don’t trust the locals to not screw me over in the end. And…we have a mole.” David and Jason begin bickering, Peña cutting them off. “I need someone that can infiltrate his home without causing suspicion.”

“And why can’t that be one of us? No offense,” David turns apologetically to you. “But it’s extremely dangerous to be doing that alone.”

Peña rolls his neck, trying to hold his temper. “His security guards are looking for…working girls.”

It’s silent in the office as Jason and David look toward you, bug-eyed and scared. You take a deep breath, chuckling quietly. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Peña freezes, eyes widening briefly before leaning forward. “Now, listen–”

“You want me to whore myself out? For your little side mission? Like I’m some piece of meat?” Your voice is increasing in volume, Jason wincing at the sound of you wobbling through the last few words. He knew how you felt being used as bait while in Miami, and now it seemed to be happening all over again.

“Everyone out.” Peña glared at Jason and David, waiting for them to file out of his office, and shut the door tightly behind them.

When his eyes find you, he stays frozen while you remain stoic. He takes a deep breath, cursing under his breath briefly. “I need you to help me out, here.”

You attempt to not scoff. “Why the fuck should I be doing anything you say?”

“You don’t have to actually do anything.” He’s earnest, stepping closer to you while one hand rests on his hip.

You can’t help the emotion lacing your voice. “You’re kidding.” Shaking your head, you open your arms wide. “How do you expect me to get anywhere without actually offering up anything?”

He growls in irritation, taking another step toward you. “I just need you to stakeout-talk to the men that come back into town, and get a feel for it. When things get heavier we will send Jason and David out.”

You stare at Peña for another minute, waiting to see if he flinches. If you can see the shift, the change of mind. When you don’t, you sigh. “I’m taking the rest of the day off.”

It’s like a blow to the chest as he steps back. “What?”

“You heard me.” You snarl, opening the door so Jason and David can hear your announcement as well.

As you step out, not waiting to see if Peña has anything else to say, Jason follows you to the elevator. “I’ll talk to him, don’t–”

“It’s fine, Jason.” You sigh, shaking your head. “I just need to get in the right mindset. Don’t worry about it; I don’t want you telling Peña anything.”

He shuffles, holding the elevator open. “Are you sure? He’s such a hard ass to you, maybe if I tell him what you told me he would change up his plans…”

You give him a forced smile, grabbing his wrist and pulling it out of the way. “It’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As the elevator door slides closed with a small wave from Jason, you see Peña’s eyes watching, assessing the interaction. As the door shuts, you take a deep breath and exhale, trying to recenter yourself before stepping into the parking garage.

You had an inkling of who it would be when you heard a knock on your door a few hours later. You sit on your couch, silent as you wait, and hope that Peña will just walk away. He will understand that you need space.

You had already cried the minute you stepped over the threshold, feeling that pit in your stomach that you always got when you stepped out onto the docks in Miami. How hands and lips felt against your heated skin where you didn’t want them–

“Hermosa,” Peña calls through your door, jiggling the handle to test if it is locked. “I know you’re there. Let me in.”

You sigh again, waiting for another knock before slinking over to the door and quietly unlocking the deadbolt. He hears it, pushing open the door quickly after and coming face to face with you.

He huffs, kicking the door shut and shrugging out of his suit jacket. “Were you not going to let me in?”

“No.” You say quietly, sitting on your couch and back down to the book you have bookmarked with a receipt from the corner store.

He’s silent, standing above you while you refuse to make eye contact. He’s waiting for you to break, but you’re too tired to. When he finally caves, you try to control your lips from ticking up in the corners. “I really need this, hermosa.”

You pick at your fingernails, patiently waiting.

He sighs again. “There’s a lot of money on the line. Like, millions, if what I’ve been told is correct. The local guys, they’re getting paid on the side by this guy and I need someone in there.”

He’s pacing now, back and forth in front of your coffee table.

You break your silence, leaning back and crossing your arms. “What’s in it for me?”

Peña pauses, turning to you. He looks flustered, hands having run through his hair by how it sticks out away from the side of his head. “Cash. Cold, hard cash.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “So, I will really be a whore then, won’t I?”

He frowns, shaking his head. “No, I don’t want you doing that.” He stretches his neck, clicking his tongue in disgust. “You just, pretend. Don’t do anything crazy–”

You feel anger bubble up inside, over your tongue, and spitting out at him. “You don’t fucking get it, do you?”

He freezes, shocked in front of you.

“I don’t get to just say no. I have to be stronger to say no. I have to be strapped to say no. I have to be cute enough to say no. I can’t just not do something once I’ve pretended to offer those things, Javi. These aren’t college boys trying to not catch a rape charge.”

He waits, biting the inside of his mouth as he grows more frustrated. He must know you’re right, must understand what he’s asking you to do. “I won’t let them.” He says quietly, flicking his gaze up to yours. “You have my word, hermosa.”

“I can’t trust that.” You feel worn and tired of the argument. You’ve resigned to the fact that you will have to do this if you plan on keeping your job, and you do plan on it. “I’ll do what you ask of me. It’s my job.”

“I won’t let them touch you.” He growls, reaching forward and squeezing your arms so tightly you squeak. “You’re not going to get hurt in this. I won’t allow it.”

It’s pitiful, really, how you want to laugh in his face. He doesn’t understand, because he’s a man. No matter his reputation with working girls, he doesn’t know. You attempt to pull away from him, but his fingers dig harder into your skin. “Go home, Peña.”

He clicks his tongue at you, tilting his head as if to threaten you. “What happened to Javi, bonita?”

You go to protest, trying and failing again to pull away as he pushes you toward your couch. You clumsily sit back, frowning at him. “I’ll do the job. It’s fine–”

“Lay back.” He barks, kneeling in front of you, his fingers working quickly at the button of your pants.

You shake your head, resting your hand over his in a silent question.

He ignores you, pulling the waistline over your hips and down your thighs, underwear soon following as cool air wicks over your skin. You shiver, the contact of his warm fingers, calloused over and rough, over your skin has your legs relaxing wide.

He lifts one leg easily over his shoulder, smirking when his eyes land on your center. Without further warning, his tongue swipes up your folds, spreading you wide with a groan. “I can’t stop wanting this.”

You throw your head back, unsure if what he said was meant for himself or for you. Words are stuck in your throat, fingers wrapped tightly in his hair, and pulling as his tongue swirls over your clit and down to your center. You want to tell him to keep going, to make you come, but you’re afraid that if you voice your want he will retreat from you.

One hand squeezes into the skin of your thigh resting on his shoulder, his other working the buttons of his shirt open before coming to your entrance with a sigh. He lets his tongue rest there for a moment, pressing in with the tip and letting you contract around him.

Javi pulls away, muttering under his breath as he slides one finger into you, a quick “Fuck, so wet for me.” before wrapping his lips around your clit again.

You swear he would be laughing at you for how quickly you crumbled to his touch if he wasn’t busy with his mouth around you. “Please, I–”

Another smirk appears as he pulls away, curling his fingers inside you to search for that spot he has found again and again. “I won’t let you come,” He breathes, pressing a kiss to your shaking thigh. “Unless you agree to the job.”

You huff, breaths labored and your stomach tightens. “I already agreed.”

“Nuh-uh, mean it hermosa.” He nips your skin, chuckling as your hips jump in an attempt to get away, only pressing his fingers deeper. “Be my little slut, and I’ll share the cash with you.”

You close your eyes to try to focus, his fingers pressing, pressing, pressing against that spot inside of you that he has an obsession with, holding your breath. It’s overwhelming, the pressure in your core building and overheating.

Sweat pools in the dip of your collarbone, the shirt you still have on soaking it up as you pull on his hair again. “Yes, yes–fuck. I’ll do it.”

Javi hums, leaning forward again to press his lips to your center, his tongue and fingers working in tandem as a wave of ecstasy crashes over your skin.

You’re floating, feeling him slow between your legs and breathe against your skin. He says something you can’t really hear, gently setting your leg down on the floor before adjusting himself. A pointed look is thrown your way, your furrowed brow indicating that you didn’t hear him.

He shakes his head, wiping at his mustache for a moment. “Stakeout starts next week.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie morales #frankie morales smut #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javier pena fanfic #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña #javier pena smut #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #fic:how the crow flies #tw: dubcon #tw: mentions of rape

98 notes · View notes

miamaymarry · 2 years

Text

I edited my headline to be clear that this blog is a fan blog. I never claimed to be an official translator or anything like that. OX did never answer the request for permission to translate their work, so this is all for fun and without any connection to the artist but if you want to put it so negatively “messing” with their work. (I guess/hope Old Xian is probably really busy and doesn’t have time for concerns over small creators interacting with their works. Of course I would take the translations/edits down immediately if they personally ever happen to contact me about it and disliking it for whatever reason or if they make a statement online that they are uncomfortable with people playing around with their creation) Please remember fanfiction, fanart, edits, … are the same category as fan translations and technically require permission from the creator to be anything near legal as well. If nothing is commercialized it’s basically not a crime that’s traced I guess? I’m doing this in my free time and without ever charging anyone anything. The art work doesn’t belong to me and I hope that’s clear since I put OXs name and where to find the original whenever I post a translation.

I barely interact with most of the followers who came here but I’m happy many people seem to enjoy it ❤️ Again: I’m not claiming to be accurate and I just do fun stuff with editing, and what I feel like. I’ve done it many times before and people minded their business if it wasn’t their cup of tea. So I’d rather keep a small community around to gosh over the same things and not have loads of people on this blog with expectations I don’t want to live up to. I’m not here for anything but joy for myself and friends. There are sooo many cool fan translations you can follow instead if you’re upset about what I’m doing. I chose peace and fun over everything since this is my blog. It’s the internet not real life, please just pass by and ignore/block it if you don’t like it, since it’s not my responsibility to make anyone feel better at my space. And respectfully anyone please unfollow me if there is an expectation of me to serve you in any kind of way or make you feel comfortable at my own fan bubble here. We disagree and I’m not going to put up with negativity. I’m here for positive interactions and to have fun with a fandom I enjoy, which is mostly 19 days at the moment. I literally have a crack ship/cursed ship or whatever you call it in my header so where do those expectations come from? Typesetting is fun, not a job or duty to me and I’ll keep doing my own fanservice 😊 I also don’t want to justify stopping what I’m doing right now if I don’t feel like it anymore one day.

If you are really bored and want to play detective, start comparing OXs originals with the posts :D I made a few small edits here and there that didn’t change the context, and that I didn’t mention. Nobody noticed before or only a few wondering about hearts or (for me) funny additions. Yesterday I wanted to clarify I was making fun to keep a distance from the original because it changed the subtext with the small smile on Cheng’s face. (Look at least closely if you’re here to roast me. The second panel of him had a change of the corner of his mouth too and none who complained did even see it…)

I also apologize to anyone who’s disappointed because this wasn’t communicated clearly enough from my end. I will keep addressing actual changes like before! Now there are so many followers already and I had to block a few being rude, I felt pressured to make a statement, but actually we’re strangers and I don’t owe you anything guys.

Last but not least: I am so happy about all the positive comments and funny tags (yes I read them whenever I can hehe) in the reblogs. Thank you so much for sticking around 🥰 and thank you for liking too!

Summery: We switch between accurate translations and a more direct communication sometimes (but most of the time we stick to the original as close as possible). I edit small stuff sometimes because I would like to have “more” in there (or what I personally think is fun). So I will keep addressing changes to be clear in the future.

If you want to talk about it feel free to do so nicely :)

#19 days #personal

78 notes · View notes

rainydawgradioblog · 2 months

Text

Interview with Samba Jean-Baptiste

The other day I came across an article about AI bots mass-releasing auto-generated music on Spotify under different names. A concept as democratic as “unfettered access to music by way of streaming services” was bound to be corrupted by bad actors. Artists are consigned to grueling tour schedules in order to make a living because streaming pays them in Monopoly money. Pitchfork is gone and the writing is on the wall for Bandcamp, because curation is now being handled by algorithms. It’s important to keep in mind that any artist releasing music today has to navigate a culture in which there’s more out there than ever before, it's all at the tip of one’s fingers, and everything except for the music itself is worse than it used to be.

The topic of how the internet has shaped music came up frequently in my discussion with Samba Jean-Baptiste, an independent artist out of Brooklyn. I discovered his work after seeing Dean Blunt’s music video to “Felony” (his best song? I’m ready to make the argument), and the Algorithm decided I might like a video titled “talk / pleasure.” Behind a camera that might be a flip phone, somone offers Jean-Baptiste directions: “Wait, look off that way, and start the song. Then just start doing your shit.” The music plays and we hear Samba’s subdued voice over acoustic guitar strumming. He crosses a wide urban boulevard. All of it is easy and unforced.

youtube

“Talk / Pleasure” was released on Cardinal, a project that’s difficult to categorize and beautiful and disarming. Jean-Baptiste chiefly uses acoustic guitar and his voice to create stripped-back art pop, as if the Young Marble Giants grew up listening to Stereolab instead of Lou Reed. The relationship between skilled yet raw guitar playing and more attuned peripheral production toes a line between an open mic performance and sound leaking from someone else’s headphones. There’s some really incredible interplay between organic and auto tuned vocals on “Windows.” The string and warped piano accompaniments on “A Wish Slanted” perfectly compliment Jean-Baptiste’s rhythmic strumming. It seems like he’s drawing from so much, because he’s had access to (and has seeked out) so much. The internet has given us windows into every corner of musical expression imaginable. If you’re an artist, how do you reckon with that, how does it find its way into your art? I didn’t want to put words in Jean-Baptiste’s mouth, so I reached out to see if he’d be interested in an interview for the Blawg.

He was kind enough to agree back in early December; we spoke over the phone for about 40 minutes. I think he was playing Dave Bixby in the background. In addition to the internet’s impact on the music landscape, he touched on song-writing, looping, and Veeze. Hope you all enjoy it. Please, check out Cardinal on Spotify, Apple Music, Youtube, and Bandcamp (before it’s subscription based).

Can you tell me a little about yourself?

Yeah, I’m 22, about to be 23, I live in Bedstuy, Brooklyn, I cook at a Japanese Breakfast restaurant that’s also in Brooklyn. That’s kinda what I do four days a week. I grew up in Massachusetts playing classical music, me and my sister, I played Cello, my sister played violin and we grew up playing in the Boston Symphony Orchestra. That’s where I gained a lot of interest in music, because when I wasn’t playing cello, everyone would be showing off like, what pop song [they] could play on the piano, and from there everything trailed into, you know, writing a little song about a crush or something when I was a kid.

My family is from Haiti. That’s important to me. In middle school I used to just make beats so I was really into dubstep and a bunch of stuff on youtube. I was always big on youtube, listening to people make beats at home, and then soundcloud blew up, which gave so much access to random nooks and crannies to the country and world for that matter. Got into songwriting a little bit. Used to make a lot of different sounding stuff to now. Picked up guitar, somehow, and I guess that landed me to where I’m at now.

Songs like “Better Now” from Cardinal feature a lot of looping. Do you find that to be a big part of your process?

It’s funny because looping, from making beats in middle school, looping is such a big part of it. You make something, you loop it, you progress from there. But by the time I realized I could be playing actual instruments in my recordings, I still had that mentality. I’ll record something and think: “this part is great, I’m just gonna loop it.” And it doesn’t feel unethical. Cause for me, for a long time, looping other people’s music was like, “you’re going to hell, you’re not making music” but somehow my eyes have opened up and my ears have opened up to so many new ways of sound creation, rather than seeing it like “you have to create from the sound up like you’re fucking Beethoven.” You can hear something and make something out of that and that’s ok. It’s not yours, it's everyone’s.

Looping is really interesting too because everytime you hear something or see something you can see something new about it. There’s albums I’ve listened to kajillions of times and it’s like I’m learning something new about it every listen. The same thing can happen with a simple loop, it’ll just be new information, newly perceived information each time. So yeah loops are super important to me.

When you’re writing a song, do you have an idea of what you want the finished product to be, or does it evolve naturally over the course of the entire process?

Definitely the latter. That’s funny I was talking to my dad *today* that when I make songs, or work on an idea, I have to like make the whole song, just so that when I go back to these drafts, I can see the full blueprint. [...] It’s definitely a process. If I write a song in one sitting, I’ll kinda just… show a friend. That’s not the stuff I like releasing.

How did Cardinal become more acoustic than your previous album, Pandora?

It wasn’t so much a conscious decision to be like, I have to be different from the last record, but it was a conscious decision in my process. Because Pandora was made while I was still primarily recording through my laptop, and like, there’s guitar on there, but it’s all pitched up, and my voice isn’t in my natural cadence. But in the same way I realized I could use my instruments and play them in my recordings, I was like damn. That feels natural. I can also just sing in my natural low voice, I don’t have to be reaching for something that I’m not. So it sort of just trailed in that direction naturally.

I was wondering if playing the cello made picking up guitar easier, or otherwise informs your guitar playing? You said you “stumbled on guitar,” which sounds like a bigger undertaking than you make it out to be.

Yeah, picking up guitar was pretty simple for me because of that knowledge, but like, there’s six strings on a guitar [compared to cello’s four], so I’ve found new ways to approach an instrument, because there’s a learning curve there. A lot of my songs, if you listen to them, it’s all the same chords, because I only know so much, and sometimes I’m fucking lazy and I know certain chords and they make me feel good enough.

Also it's funny because some songs are written on different guitars. “I Could Have Cried” was written on a guitar with five strings (the high E is gone) because my roommate didn’t finish stringing it. The other one I got in London, that one plays “Talk/Pleasure” and “A Wish Slanted” and it has four strings because two of them snapped. Each weird situation lends itself to a new creation, which is like a huge part of my process anyway. Error is so acceptable, if not sought out.

The stream of consciousness of it? Less premeditated?

Right. There’s a mix too though. I love when records have noise added after cause that’s real. You can only listen to so much perfect, cookie cutter stuff.

When you were making Cardinal, were there any major songs or artists that you took inspiration from?

Nah I had no influences, I came up with this shit. I’m playing, of course, of course, there’s so many. I feel like a lot of people are finding my music through like Dean Blunt youtube wormhole, and he’s for sure one of my big influences, like all my influences are like 30+ year old black people doing their thing. But the main influence is music that sounds like wind, water, grass, and that all relates to guitar.

I wish I had a list of my influences, cause on this record there’s a lot you know? I had a lot of people in my life showing me new things, because I’m so closed minded often. And I like to try to surround myself with people that will show me something new. A lot of inspiration is what’s new to me.

I think wind, water, grass sums it up great. Wrapping up, would you have any recommendations for me and the good people of Rainy Dawg Radio as a whole? Movies, music, books, etc?

Hell yeah. I just finished this book called Your Love is Not Good, by Johanna Hedver… Movies? I’m still learning about movies. Two or three things I know about her. I’m into Jean Luc Godard, that slice of life stuff where nothing happens, cause it’s just like looping music to me. Music? I’ll just give you what I’ve been into recently, cause I have huge influences but they’re probably everybody’s. I’ve been listening to this song called “Tea in Bed” by Blessed and Blushing. That shit’s incredible. I’ve been listening to this song called “Everybody Knows” by Glucose. I’ve been listening to a Serge Gainsbourg record, The History of Melody Nelson. I’ve been listening to Veeze, you know, Ganger. There’s so much shit. There’s so much out there. Michael White is this great jazz violinist, I’d definitely recommend him. Forma Norte, that guy’s incredible.

Who’s that, Forma Norte?

Yeah, you know what’s funny is I found him on my “related artists,” online, and sometimes I find stuff I really hate through that. But sometimes I think “damn this guy’s awesome, how’s he related to me?”

It’s so interesting to hear an artist’s perspective of their “fans also like” on Spotify.

That first one I said, Tea in Bed by Blessed and Blushing, is just blowing my mind recently. I’m like, “who is sitting down and making this shit?,” it’s so good. And that’s what’s crazy is there’s so much music now, it’s like, is there even a point in trying to make a career out of this? No. I don’t think so. Which I think is lending itself to the best music ever, cause people are like “there’s no fucking way I’m gonna make a career out of this, I might as well just make what I want, whatever I want.”

You used to have to deal with the label, but now everything is just, “yeah go for it.”

It’s such a blessed time in that regard, but at the same time… let me chill on that. Let’s say, Marvin Gaye, “I Want You”? We’re not getting that right now. And that’s no hate to right now. But it’s just like that was a whole different way of living, thinking, moving, breathing you know. It’s just a whole different way of recording.

But we’re so blessed to be able to do exactly what we want without the idea of needing to make money off it. Obviously it would be nice. But it’s unlikely so people are just making cool shit. And I’m really thankful for that.

You can find Samba Jean-Baptiste on Instagram here and YouTube here. Once again, listen to Cardinal any way you get your music.

#Spotify #Youtube

4 notes · View notes

lumpsbumpsandwhumps · 2 years

Text

Bad Things Happen Bingo - Forced To Hurt Someone

Ehehe, the first of many installments to the MAJ story! Now, full disclosure, all my prompts for this challenge are coming from a knock off card a friend and I made together, so I won't actually be tagging this in the BTHB tag

As always, if there's a tag I missed or anything you'd like me to specifically mark, please let me know so I can add it for future fics!

CW: Graphic Depictions of Gore, Implied Violence/Torture, Blood, Minor Character Death, Threats, Choking, Videoing A Snuff Film, Creepy/Intimate Whumper

Word Count: 9.7K

The term ‘Red Room’ wasn’t exactly what it sounded like. It was a room, yes, and there were most certainly various shades of red staining the interior, but the mental image it conjured versus its true nature couldn’t be further apart. Red Rooms were what most internet savvy people considered a myth, unless you knew how to navigate past the surface level of the dark web where the right amount of money could buy just about anything your vile heart desired. Urban legends came and went about their existence and purpose, though the general consensus remained that they were used for livestreaming torture sessions in which sick viewers could donate to make requests about what the victim should be put through next.

Turns out, that was a lie. And not in a relieving way.

As Jonas had unfortunately come to learn firsthand, both from witnessing Malik do his dirty work and from the offhanded explanations he would throw out here and there, there were a couple misconceptions about how Red Rooms worked. First of all, it wasn’t livestreamed, as that could be more easily traced, nor was the completed recording ever given out to multiple viewers. A buyer would pay for the private film; how deep they wanted to go into the directing role depending on how much they were willing to spend. They could go as far as to pick out what specifications they wanted for their victim, how long the duration of the act was, what tools and methods were implemented, or they could give a general concept and let Malik have full creative control. That seemed to be his favorite.

Very rarely was there a request Malik ever turned down, and even then he was willing to reconsider if the buyer offered a better price. Jonas had been in the designated Red Room a total of three times and every visit made him want to shrivel into himself and disappear. They were awful, awful experiences. The things Malik did to him on a daily basis were mere child's play compared to the atrocities he committed to the poors souls that were essentially purchased to die. Ninety percent of the blame for these heinous acts could be put on Malik without a doubt, however it wasn’t fair to throw him under the bus alone. He was only doing what people told him to do. Who was more psychotic – the person requesting or the person committing?

What nauseated Jonas the most was the fact he knew deep within his soul that one day, possibly very soon, he would be the star of one of these videos. That wasn’t an exaggeration; Malik had blatantly told him that a majority of his victims were former abductees whose ransoms weren’t paid on time. At that point, full custody was relinquished to Malik from the men who initially organized the kidnapping and, since he wasn’t going to get a share of the ransom if it wasn’t paid, he repurposed them for his second job. Really, it was a win-win situation for him no matter what, gaining a bloodsoaked paycheck one way or another. As much as Jonas hoped and prayed and believed his own fucking parents would pay off the bounty for his head in a timely manner, he knew they were dragging their feet while deadline drew near.

While he figured his fate would eventually be sealed in the Red Room, front and center of Malik’s treasured DSLR camera, Jonas didn’t anticipate he’d be in the starring role so soon. He never knew why he was dragged into the room the rare times that he was considering he was still always bound and gagged in the corner to stay out of the way. Was he meant to watch, was he meant to learn? Did Malik want him to get a preview of what would be done to him if his parents didn’t sign a fat check, or was this supposed to be some weird bonding thing with him sharing his…special interest and wanting Jonas to keep him company? Either way, he was less than pleased when Malik coiled an arm around his bruised chest to drag the poor boy across the basement from one room to the next.

Jonas was expecting to be dropped in his typical corner, maybe not headfirst if Malik was feeling affectionate today, and left to his own petrified devices out of frame. That wasn’t the case when Malik continued to heft him over closer to the stolen cadaver gurney. It would be a lie to say Jonas’s heart rate didn’t skyrocket being so close to the stained metal, even more so when he was manhandled around in Malik’s grasp to be held up by his underarms like a doll. Rather than being lifted up and slammed down on the gurney, thankfully, Malik hooked his foot on one of the legs of a rolling stool to bring the seat over and plop Jonas down. Before he could catch his breath from the brief panic, the duct tape was ripped off from his mouth, eliciting a sharp gasp due to the sting left on his skin.

“Hi Jonie,” Malik said, as if this was the first time he’s seen Jonas today and not spent ten minutes in silence carrying him from a prison to a torture chamber.

Licking the taste of adhesive and blood from his newly split lip, Jonas forced a very meek, “H…hello.”

Not one to idle on pleasantries, Malik gave a quick scan to the assortment of tools lying in wait beside the gurney, quickly picking an elongated knife with a serrated edge. Jonas’s wrists were seized in one hand while the frightening blade slipped between to snap the makeshift zip tie cuffs that were replaced almost daily. Not to worry, Malik had a concerningly endless supply. It felt nice to get some circulation back into his remaining fingers, rotating his wrists and rubbing the scabbed skin while Malik knelt down to cut through the ropes confining his ankles. What was the difference between using zip ties on one pair of limbs and rope on another, Jonas wondered a few times. Maybe because Malik didn’t need to replace the leg bindings often since he opted to carry Jonas around as opposed to letting him walk free range.

The fact that Jonas was not on the gurney was a good thing so far. The fact that he had full mobility while being in the camera setting up was alarming. If Jonas was a stronger man, he’d shove Malik with all his strength and knee him in the face. Then he’d grab one of the big, scary, sharp weapons and stab it into him a hundred times before running out of the basement screaming for help. But he wasn’t a stronger man, both in the physical and emotional sense. Malik could overpower him easily with the advantage of having ten fingers and not being simultaneously beaten and starved for the last few weeks. No flimsy attack against him would be worth the severe punishment he’d receive.

“Wh-what are you…doing?” Jonas asked, unsure if he really wanted the answer. It was never a good answer.

“We’re making a movie today,” Malik said. He returned to his full height to put the knife back where it belonged amongst the other blades waiting their turn. Jonas didn’t like how he needed to crane his neck up to see the other, subconsciously bearing his throat to a dangerous predator. Even if he stood up as well, he’d only make it a bit past Malik’s shoulder, which was insanely unfair given that Jonas was already fairly tall himself. There’s always a bigger fish, he supposed.

The verbiage of the sentence confused him. Not I, we. As in two people. As in you and me. As in Jonas would be taking an active part in whatever film Malik was paid to make today. His blood ran cold, rapidly draining from his face as if it could store itself somewhere else to avoid being siphoned out with one of those wretched embalming machines Malik used on someone’s legs before. So, Jonas had been mistaken, evidently. He would be hoisted onto the multifunctional table after all to give the performance of the lifetime. It made sense that his limbs would be temporarily freed for this so they could instead be fastened to the leather cuffs added to the top and bottom of the gurney. His parents must have ran out of time, meaning Jonas had run out of luck.

Jonas gulped, finding it hard to meet his tormentor’s eyes. “We…?”

Malik hummed in agreement, taking hold of both of Jonas’s hands again and giving them a tug. “C’mon, up and at ‘em.”

His legs felt like jelly. A mix of fear and the still prickling sensation that made his toes curl as full feeling returned from so long of inactivity. Jonas knew what the price of disobedience was, but when one was about to be carved up on camera, did it really matter anymore? He shook his head and stayed firmly planted on the seat, trying to pull his hands free from Malik’s iron grip. If he really wanted to, he could yank Jonas to his feet and pin him to the gurney with no trouble. But Malik loved a good fight, loved a good struggle, especially when it was his favorite little Jonie wriggling against him.

“N-no! No!” Jonas squealed, panic already pumping his weak heart with adrenaline. “No, Malik, pl-please, please, I don’t, I-I don’t–!”

“Relax, lover, it’ll be fun,” he crooned. The use of that sickening sweet nickname only worsened the gnawing anxiety tightening Jonas’s stomach. Malik was in a playful mood today, which normally meant Jonas could get away with a smidgen more than usual because his captor thought it was extra entertaining. Working him up into a panicked frenzy meant a few extra moments to savor his trembling form when it was time to get the show on the road.

As predicted, Malik forced Jonas to stand by dragging him up by his arms. He squirmed, trying to twist his sore body in a way that might wrench his arms free, not that it would matter in the long run. Jonas was still locked in the Red Room, it wouldn’t make much difference if he had an infinite amount of space to flee. Malik’s long strides and superior stamina would be able to grab a fistful of his matted brown curls and drag him back wherever he wanted. While he might love a fun chase, his captor did eventually draw the line when the game grew tiresome, often leading to Jonas blacking out. From pain, from drugs, from lack of air – it was always a toss up.

When Jonas tried to lean back in the hopes gravity would lend him its strength, Malik countered the movement by yanking his arms (and therefore Jonas’s as well) down to his side, forcing him to careen straight into his tormentor’s chest. Once they were back to sharing a personal bubble, Malik let go of his wrists in favor of wrapping his arms tightly around Jonas to ensnare him in the world’s most uncomfortable type of hug. There was no way he’d be able to break free from the hold, but that didn’t stop him from trying to push against Malik’s chest.

“I said relax, Jonie,” Malik warned. Even with the use of the pet name, the bite was evident in his tone. The sensation of his voice rumbling in his chest vibrated against Jonas’s dampening cheek, almost succeeding in drowning out the rush of blood in his ears. “You always make things so much more difficult than they need to be.”

Well, maybe that was because Jonas didn’t want to be killed for some sick fuck’s amusement. Maybe that was because he didn’t want to be battered worse than the last time to take a pretty picture. Maybe that was because he didn’t want Malik touching him, or kissing him, or using affection as another weapon. Maybe that was because he never wanted to be kidnapped from a family that never gave two shits about him prior, much less after he already sacrificed a finger to try and expedite their dues. Honestly, forgive Jonas for having an ounce of self preservation and not wanting to die an excruciating death at such a young age at the hands of a guy who may or may not get freaky with his corpse afterwards. Necrophilia had never seemed like the type of thing to tickle Malik’s fancy in the numerous times he was left with a dead body after his filming, yet with how obsessive he was with claiming Jonas inside and out…

No time to think about how Malik might desecrate his mutilated corpse, not while he was still alive anyways. Jonas did stop his struggling, only because he knew it was futile to waste his limited energy right now and risk annoying Malik before the real torture began. The tears refused to halt their falling, however, clumping his lashes together and soaking into the thick fabric of Malik’s black sweater. If it weren’t for the arms squeezing against him, Jonas would be a hyperventilating mess as there was no other outlet for his meltdown. Yet even that was taken from him, forcing him to choke on gasps that were unsatisfying in filling his brain with oxygen, leaving him alone with his imagination to run amok of what was going to happen to him.

“Please, pl-ease,” Jonas whimpered again. “I d-don’t want to die, I-I, not l-like this, please, Malik, don’t kill me!”

“Who said anything about killing you? I said we were going to make a movie. You can’t direct if you’re dead.”

Jonas blinked away the fresh wave of tears that clouded his vision. Given the angle of the restrictive hug, he was unable to look up and gauge just how serious Malik was, though he was never the most expressive individual in the first place. Or perhaps he was and the bandana he wore concealed all his frowns and smiles and pouts. The world may never know considering Jonas still wasn’t convinced he’d live to tell the tale.

“...huh?”

“Wait here,” Malik instructed, finally letting Jonas out of the suffocating hug and nearly causing the poor boy to fall on his ass. He stayed put as he was told, not daring to disobey, not even to secretly pocket one of the smaller knives with the hopes of using it for a half baked escape plan later. Jonas didn’t want to imagine what kind of punishment he’d get if he was caught stealing. Probably something that would involve using that very same knife to scar his bruised skin as a reminder to never try something so stupid again.

Malik didn’t go very far, only disappearing into a backroom outside of the camera’s range that functioned as a glorified supply closet. At least that was what Jonas assumed the tiny room was for. The weapons and cleaning supplies had to be stored somewhere in between filming. Every muscle in Jonas’s body, though sore and begging him to stop straining, remained tense while his captor knocked around a few loose items to find what was needed. There were a multitude of things it could be and none of them particularly pleasant. But…whatever it was, it wouldn’t be to kill Jonas, right? That was what Malik promised. And while Malik may not tell the full truth or warp double meanings into his words, he never lied. Not trustworthy, but not a liar.

So, sure, whatever he was roping Jonas into might not kill him, that didn’t mean it wouldn’t severely mutilate him to the point of begging for the sweet mercy of death. Which his captor would withhold as he had already said he wouldn’t kill him like the cruel bastard he was. Just as there was no such thing as a free lunch, there was no such thing as Malik doing a kind gesture if not so the immediate aftermath would be a worse fate. Jonas gulped, his body trembling the more his muscles tightened themself, refusing to budge an inch after being ordered to stay in this exact spot. The anticipation was (almost literally) killing him.

He needn’t wait a second more when Malik reappeared with another body similarly tucked under his arm the same way he liked to drag Jonas around. It was a young woman, maybe a little older than Jonas and with a much fuller body than his emaciated frame, with pretty blonde hair that concealed her face. She was nude, but given the lack of wounds on her skin and the way her blonde waves still had a voluminous bounce, she must not have been in Malik’s care for long, if even a full day. Despite the rope around her ankles and wrists, it was odd how little she struggled when Malik forced her along, not even turning her head to shake the hair out of her eyes to see where she was.

The order of staying put had to be abandoned when Malik stalked back to the gurney, Jonas scrambling out of the way so he could scoop the woman up and unceremoniously drop her onto the metal table. Jonas flinched at the dull impact and the woman moaned, but besides that, she put up no fight after her extremities were freed in favor of being individually bound in leather cuffs. He didn’t know if he was allowed to touch her, yet Jonas couldn’t help but take pity on the woman, reaching over to gently push her hair out of her face to finally get a good look at her. It was no one he’d ever seen before, or remembered seeing anyways. Her blue eyes were glossy and unfocused, though the sheer terror shone through the haze. Pink lips twitched like she was trying to say something, the words unable to make it past her tongue and only coming out as little whimpers stuck in her throat.

She was pretty, and that was quite unfortunate, because that was exactly what Malik fancied. Pretty girls, pretty boys, pretty whatever. Not sexually appealing or hot, but cute with soft, round features. Those were his captor’s favorite which was the only reason Jonas was given the luxury of having all of his attention.

“Who…wh-who is this?” Jonas asked while Malik finished tightening the last strap over her right ankle. He didn’t take his eyes off of her own, trying to offer the only bit of comfort he could that hey, it’s alright, we’re both victims in this together, I’m not the threat here. Not that he had any hopes of being her savior either, but Jonas didn’t want her to associate him with being a sadistic fuck like Malik.

Said sadistic fuck shrugged at the question. “I don’t know, what do you want to name her? Let’s call her…Jess.”

“Is that her real name?”

Malik rolled his dark eyes. “Christ, it doesn’t matter what her name is. What matters is that Jess here is going to be your motivation for the movie.”

“My…what? L-like, we’re filming t-…together?” Jonas asked. He wasn’t following where this train of thought was going at all. Every time Jonas had had the displeasure of seeing how one of these ‘movies’ was created, it was a pretty systematic set up of ‘killer’ and ‘victim’. Not much room for a third role that he was apparently meant to play.

Satisfied that his latest kill was bound to her future demise, Malik returned to his typical spot of hovering mere inches away from Jonas. He tried to take a half step back, just for a breath of personal space, but his captor was quick to snag Jonas’s chin in a harsh grip. His breathing hitched, lips slightly puckered from how Malik dug his thumb and forefinger into his cheeks to force him make eye contact.

“Do you not listen to a goddamn thing I say?” Malik asked in a deceptively casual tone. “I told you, you’re going to be the director.”

“I…I-I don’t know what that means,” Jonas squeaked out from smushed lips.

Thankfully, Malik released his grasp to position himself behind Jonas, effectively caging him in between his larger build the the gurney. A shiver ran down Jonas’s spine and he wondered if Malik could feel it given how his chest was pressed into his back. One arm snaked around his waist, squeezing against the sore muscles of his abdomen, while the other gestured around between the woman and the assortment of tools as Malik spoke.

“So, it’s like this,” he started. “A girl reaches out to me, wants a video, you know how it is,” God how Jonas wished he didn’t, “but she’s got a special request. She doesn’t want someone like me doing all the work, it’s too…professional. Isn’t that nice? She said she wants to spice it up, let an amateur take the reins.”

Realization started to sink in as to where this horrible idea was going, making Jonas’s stomach roll with dread. He really thought he might dry heave when Malik used his free hand to tuck a few dirty curls behind Jonas’s ear, caressing his jaw and neck just to watch the muscles twitch.

“And I said, hey, I know the perfect candidate for that. I know a pretty boy who will do everything I say if he doesn’t want me to kick his ribs in again,” The soft touches to his face turned harsh again when Malik grabbed him by the jaw, forcing Jonas to look straight ahead at the red recording light of the camera in front of them. “This is your directorial debut, Jonie.”

No. No, no, no, no. No, he couldn’t do this, fuck, Jonas could barely stand the thought of what Malik was insinuating without a wave of nausea hitting him like a punch in the gut. Actually, Jonas had been on the receiving end of plenty of fists all over his battered body courteous of Malik, he would gladly take an hour of beatings than an hour of whatever fucked up game this was meant to be. His wide green eyes met the dazed blue ones of the woman, who in her strange haze appeared to have picked up what was meant to happen to her if it wasn’t obvious before. Jonas honestly wasn’t sure if she was really following along with the conversation or just reacting to the growing panic on his face.

Malik wanted him to torture this poor woman to death. Malik wanted him to cut and slice and scrape her up with a multitude of different weapons on camera. Malik wanted to film his first murder so he could sell it to another twisted individual who probably got off on the idea of one unwilling participant butchering another for twice the amount of anguish. Having watched Malik work before, Jonas knew he’d never have the willpower to soldier through the process of cutting tendons with kitchen scissors. For God’s sake, Jonas couldn’t even behead a garden snake with a shovel, much to their groundskeeper's amusement when he all but sprinted to the greenhouse for help as a child.

Jonas wasn’t a murderer. He wasn’t a cruel person, or at least he tried not to be despite the times when his cushy lifestyle made him a bit ignorant. He liked to think he didn’t have a mean bone in his body, whereas Malik had enough to create a few extra skeletons for companionship. This entire set up was sickening, yet a niggling thought in the back of his head snapped at him for being so ungrateful when it was mere minutes ago Jonas thought it was his turn to be strapped to the gurney.

The hand clasped on his jaw prevented Jonas from violently shaking his head in disagreement, but he still tried. “No. N-no, Malik, fuck, I can’t, I can’t–”

“You will,” Malik snapped, sliding the hand lower to squeeze around Jonas’s neck, adding onto the littering of finger-shaped bruises. “Or you’ll be taking her place.”

A sob ripped from his clenched throat, bobbing against Malik’s palm and forcing another breath from his lung. With his head free, Jonas shook his head again, causing tears to dislodge from where they clung to his lashes and cascade down his cheeks. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t. The physical strength that was needed to saw through bone was one thing, but the mental strength to handle the weight of what he needed to do wasn’t something Jonas possessed. He would be crushed before the deed was done. If this was a type of mercy killing, he might be able to justify his actions enough to only lose sleep on particularly bad nights. But this was to actively cause the poor girl agony for someone else’s pleasure. There was no rhyme or reason to excuse the horrible action.

“No!” Jonas repeated. He shoved at the arm still wrapped around his stomach in an effort to dislodge it, not that it would help against the hand still holding onto his neck. When his pitiful attack didn’t work, Jonas settled to wriggle against Malik as best he could, trying to arch his back and push away from the chest behind him.

Malik grew tired of his tantrum quickly, tightening his fingers over Jonas’s windpipe until his nails bit into the tender skin. Without an intake of oxygen, Jonas was helpless to cry out any more refusals, much less fight against the hold. Only when his hands stop pawing at his fingers did Malik finally allow him to suck in a limited amount of air, though his hand remained as a warning. Jonas didn’t miss how two fingers curled to press over where his pulse was drumming wildly under his jaw. Any gulp that should have been utilized to calm down only came back out as a hitched cry, lost to the fear of what was to come. To be murdered or to be a murderer. Regardless, Malik was losing his patience while Jonas continued to burn through the camera’s battery.

“You realize the cost of this movie is more than your ransom, right?” Malik growled. Jonas tried to stifle his hyperventilating, but it was difficult to focus on his tormentor’s threatening words when his brain felt so fuzzy. “Killing you right now makes no difference to me if you want to act like this. You think Jane here would give two shits about killing you to save herself?”

Her name was Jess, Jonas was tempted to wheeze. He decided against it, though, not wanting to add more fuel to the fire when he was already halfway into the oven. Jonas clenched his eyes shut and whimpered, not wanting to look at her naked body still splayed out for him to get to work on. He knew if the roles were reversed she wouldn’t hesitate to do whatever Malik instructed if it meant she’d survive another day. It was the natural instinct of self preservation, to stay alive at all costs, even if that meant sacrificing a few limbs or sanity along the way. Yet, that still wasn’t good enough to convince Jonas to cut short an innocent life one broken vertebrae at a time.

“I think Jane would be a lot more grateful than you,” Malik continued. “I always thought you’d look so pretty on my table…”

He let go of Jonas’s throat to be able to grab a fistful of the girl’s blonde locks, jerking her head to the side so she’d be forced to look at the pair above her. Jonas coughed and rubbed at the new tender spots against his neck, glancing down at what was supposed to be his victim with watery eyes. She was moaning again, soft little whimpers that could do nothing more but beg.

“What do you say, Jane? Wanna swap places?”

The pleading look in her eyes was more than enough for Jonas to know her choice and he couldn’t fault her for it. It didn’t seem like she was capable of agreeing to the offer, verbally or otherwise, but it wouldn’t be hard to guess that she’d rather stab Jonas than have Jonas stab her.

“Stop, please,” Jonas sniffled.

“You’re the one forcing my hand here. I have a movie to film and if you’re not going to be my director then the role has to go to someone else.”

“Malik–”

“But,” Malik interrupted, untangling his hand from the girl’s hair to return to Jonas’s face where it had grown accustomed to residing. He cupped one wet cheek and tilted Jonas’s head back into the crook of his shoulder to look at his pale face. “You know you’re my favorite, lover, so I’ll give you one last chance. Who’s going to be the director: you or her?”

He knew what the moral answer should be, the decision to solidify himself as a martyr of pure kindness, willing to sacrifice himself for another. The act that should be worth fifty freebie passes into whatever afterlife was supposedly waiting for him at the end of this torture. But he couldn’t bring himself to offer up his life for a complete stranger, to suffer her painful demise when they both knew she’d swap places with him in a heartbeat to avoid the same cruel fate. It wasn’t a fair choice to force either of them to make. A fresh wave of tears sprung to Jonas’s eyes to drip onto Malik’s fingers, who idly wiped them away with his thumb.

“If it makes you feel better, she’d just be used in my next movie,” Malik said, as if that fun fact was meant to be comforting somehow. In a sick way, it kind of was. To know that his sacrifice wouldn’t have even saved her, just postponed her death for an extra week, lessened the guilt that Jonas was fully trading one life for another. “C’mon, you know what the answer is, you know what you want to say.”

His lip trembled, too disgusted to give the clear affirmation that Malik was looking for. Jonas wished this had been a day that Malik remembered to feed him just so that he’d be able to purge something from his stomach. Instead, he looked away in shame and gulped, finally accepting the deadly role he had been cast. Better than actually being on the gurney, but not by much. He couldn’t even look at the girl’s face again, hating the fact that there was no way to be her knight in filthy armor even if he was to offer himself up to hold off her equally brutal end. Perhaps she was really the lucky one between the two of them because after this, she would be free from Malik’s ownership.

“I…I-I’ll do it,” Jonas whispered, like he could keep it a secret from everyone but himself.

“You’ll do what?”

“I’ll be the…director…” The words tasted like the same bile he was desperate to spit out. The girl’s breathing, still slow, stuttered in her chest and Jonas thought he might break down all over again.

“Good boy,” Malik crooned. “That’s why you’re my favorite.”

His favorite punching bag, his favorite toy, his favorite victim. None of these were genuinely rooted in affection no matter how many nicknames Malik tried to sugarcoat it with. The worst part was, to an utter sociopath like him, this really could be as sweet as he was capable of being with another human. Murdering a naked woman together might as well be downright romantic, maybe even intimate since Jonas wasn’t positive that he knew the difference between love and lust. If he even experienced either feeling to begin with.

The hand resting on his face pulled away once more to rub down his scarred arm, the warmth of Malik’s skin leaving goosebumps in its path to grab hold of one of Jonas’s wrists. Unlike the grip on his throat, it was much gentler, guiding his hand over to one of the trays of tools. Immediately, Jonas was overwhelmed with choices between blades ranging in size and shape, some ribbed with teeth and some curved with a wicked point. At least they weren’t starting off with the cart full of power tools, though he was sure those would be coming into play later. He clenched his shaking hand into a fist, refusing to grab any of the weapons that were meant to carve up the poor girl.

“It’s okay, Jonie, I know it’s your first time. That’s why I’m going to help you,” Wow, if only that sentence could be taken out of context so that for one, shining moment, Malik might actually sound like a caring partner. Jonas shuddered.

Swallowing thickly, Jonas looked away from the threatening arsenal and accidentally locked eyes with the girl for a second. The moment he was struck by her fear, unable to be totally masked by whatever forced her into compliance, he felt his crumbling resolve weaken. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t kill another person, let alone torture her for hours prior. A distressed whine escaped him as his wobbly knees buckled, only saved from dropping to the floor by Malik’s arm holding him in place against his chest. Jonas wanted to yank his hand out of his captor’s, but doing that would probably tick him off enough to take creative control back and force his two victims to switch positions.

“You’re fine, you’re fine, stand up,” Malik half assed comforted, forcing Jonas back to his feet. “It doesn’t matter what you pick, they’ll all do the same thing. Just grab something and I’ll tell you what to do.”

Jonas hiccuped. “M-Malik, please, d-don’t make me–”

Fingers tightened around Jonas’s frail wrist and he couldn’t help but fear the joint might be snapped backwards. “Are you really going to start this again?”

“N-no!”

“Because there’s still time to throw your ass on this table.”

“No, no, I’m not, I-I-”

“Then grab a fucking knife before I let Jenna do it instead.”

Jess, her name was supposed to be Jess! It really went to show how little Malik cared for any unlucky soul assigned to be in one of his snuff films when he couldn’t even remember their made up name for longer than ten minutes. Jonas dropped his head, trying to find somewhere to avert his eyes, somewhere that didn’t have the naked girl or Malik or the weapons or any errant bloodstains in front of him. Full on sobbing would only continue to delay production and test Malik’s last nerve, so Jonas tried to compose himself to the best of his ability with a few deep inhales while blinking back tears.

“I-I’m sorry,” Jonas forced out, needing all the extra brownie points to win back Malik’s favor. “I…I don’t know what to do…”

Malik sighed, not unlike his mother who was often exhausted by Jonas’s existence after two sentences of conversation. The bandana muffled the exhale of warm air that would have tickled against his ear, a sensation Jonas was thankful to have been spared from.

“Look, I tried to set this up to make it as easy as possible for you. I even made sure she was nice and drugged so she wouldn’t freak you out with her fighting. All you need to do is grab something and start cutting, it’s not that hard,” Malik explained, as if this was meant to be understood by a child.

Jonas risked another glance at the girl, seeing a build up of tears in her eyes but unable to squeeze them away. Whatever Malik doped her up with had to be pretty strong if she hardly reacted to anything going on, despite being vaguely aware of her impending doom.

“So she…sh-she can’t feel anything…?” Maybe this wouldn’t be as terrible as it needed to be, then. If she was already fully numb and barely conscious, she might not realize when she was passing, or what was even happening to her in the meantime.

Malik laughed. “Oh, no, she can feel everything, she just can’t do anything about it.” To demonstrate this, he dropped Jonas’s hand to pick up a scalpel from the tray. The thin blade pressed into the apple of her cheek, splitting open to release beads of blood when Malik dragged it just a couple inches across her face. Her eyes rolled upwards, breathing picking up and throat constricting to whine a little louder in a futile effect to voice her discomfort.

Oh no. No, no, the guilt was coming back to hit Jonas in the chest harder than Malik ever could. Every time he thought he had a speck of hope to ease his conscious, it was crushed under steel toed boots. Malik dropped the newly dirtied scalpel back onto the tray with the rest, sweeping his hand over top like he was a flashy salesman trying to entice Jonas with the possibilities.

“See? It’s easy. Pick something so we can get started.”

This was it. Now or never. No more hesitation or backtracking to buy them both another moment of peace before Malik stepped in to ruin their lives. Jonas needed to make a decision before his captor had enough of his antics and slit his throat out of spite. No, Malik adored him in some type of twisted fascination, there was no chance in hell he’d let him get off that easy. His torture session would easily be spread over the course of several days before he was allowed to perish. There wasn’t much Jonas could do but comply with Malik's demands, unable to delay the inevitable any longer. The girl was going to die, that much was a fact, yet maybe Jonas could still offer her a bit of mercy during her last moments on this mortal coil.

Hand shaking worse than if he was having a seizure, Jonas moved back to the tray of his own accord to pick the largest blade available. The metal was stained with dark circles and the handle felt heavy in his hold, making Jonas feel like a true butcher just wielding the massive thing.

“A cleaver, interesting,” Malik hummed. “Do you have something in mind or do you need inspiration?”

Jonas shook his head. He knew exactly what needed to be done, for the benefit of both him and the girl. A quick, merciful death. One fast chop to the neck and she’d bleed out within seconds, perhaps dying instantaneously if Jonas was strong enough to cut through the nerves of her spine as well. Probably not, given how his arm trembled with exertion just trying to hold the weapon up in one hand that was missing its pinky. For the last time, he looked her in the eye, heartbroken to see the resignation within. She must at least understand he was trying to give her the fastest way out of this hell with minimum pain. Better than what she would have gotten with Malik in control.

He raised the cleaver, aiming it just below her chin. “I-I’m so sorry.”

“N…” She clenched her teeth, squinting her teary eyes. “N…n…”

Jonas knew what she was trying to say, her last words meant to be a final plea for her life.

“I’m sorry!” He swung the cleaver down.

The blade stopped inches from slicing into the girl’s flesh. Jonas blinked, confused until he registered the feeling of Malik’s hand wrapped around his forearm, preventing the blow from landing on its mark. He pulled his arm back, bringing the horrifying weapon away from the girl who shuddered in relief at being spared.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

That question and that tone did not bode well for Jonas. It meant he had royally fucked up and had about four seconds to rectify his mistake for a lesser punishment. Easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, Jonas’s ass. Easier to ask forgiveness from a heavenly being than to expect anything remotely merciful from Malik.

He wet his lips. “I, I-I was just, um…”

“You were going to decapitate her. You wanted to kill her in one hit.” Malik said.

“Is…w-was that wrong?” He asked, hoping to feign innocence for a bit of leeway in Malik’s anger.

Wrong answer. Malik twisted Jonas’s wrist around until the boy cried out, dropping the cleaver when his fingers spasmed. “You know that’s not how this works, Jonas. Movies aren’t five minutes long.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“If you aren’t going to play the game right, then you don’t get to play at all,” Malik warned. With his wrist still bent at an awkward angle, his captor squeezed to grind the bones together painfully, earning another sharp yelp from Jonas. “You get to be the director or the prop and right now, you’re proving to be a pretty shit director.”

“Okay! I’m s-sorry, I’ll be better! I won’t do it again, please, let go!”

“Stop fucking around and do it right. If she dies before a full hour is up, I’m going to use you to fill the air time. Got it?”

“Yes, yes!” Jonas sobbed, gasping when his arm was finally freed from Malik’s grip. The muscles throbbed underneath, a problem he was just going to have to deal with while butchering an innocent girl under a time constraint.

Malik grabbed the tray of knives and pulled it closer, some of the blades rolling against each other from the force. The clang of metal rang in Jonas’s ears for a welcome distraction for all of two seconds, symbolic like the tolling of a bell. He sniffled again and held his smarting wrist to his chest.

“Hurry up and pick another knife before I make the choice for you.”

–

One hour, twelve minutes, and seventeen seconds. That was how long the poor girl had to suffer through her ordeal before blissfully passing into the void when her last viable ounce of blood seeped from one of her many wounds. As soon as he could no longer see her chest rise, as soon as he could no longer feel the faintest pulse fluttering against any of her pressure points, Jonas dropped the blade he held onto the gurney. He was a mess, nowhere near as bloodied as the carcass he carved up but still denched in a fair amount of red. His nightshirt and boxers were sticky from arterial sprays of blood, sticking to his skin underneath. Thick rivets ran down from his neck to his thighs, following his bony curves. Even Malik had been hit with some collateral damage, mostly on his hands and arms from reaching around to assist Jonas’s sloppy work. The black sleeves of his sweater soaked up and hid a majority of the fluids that actually landed on him.

It was maybe around the thirty minute mark that whatever horror and disgust Jonas felt was replaced with a cold numbness. His mind couldn’t handle the mental overload any longer, opting to shut down everything but basic motor functions in an attempt to preserve a shred of sanity. There was no doubt the weight of everything he’d done would come back to haunt him little by little, perhaps eventually claiming him if he lived along enough to choose suicide. Everything felt so far away, like he was watching himself from a distance brutalize this girl rather than seeing his hands make the cuts. The sound of a drill pulverizing her kneecaps was a noise he’d never forget. Blood coated the inside of his nostrils and throat from breathing in the bitter, metallic scent for such an extended period of time, hardly registering the stench of death anymore.

Jonas wished he could feel something about the situation, anything. He wanted to feel sad for the life that was just lost, he wanted to feel angry that Malik forced him to do this in the first place, he wanted to feel relieved that it was finally over and that he didn’t have to take her spot as a victim. He wanted to feel sick with himself, sick at the sight of her body, sick at the idea that there was full video footage of him committing a murder that a deranged freak was probably going to masturbate to or something. But he felt nothing. No shame, no regret. Not yet, anyways. These would be the emotions that plowed him down like a semi truck in the middle of the night after the shock of trauma wore off.

A few cracks managed to slip through his facade of emptiness, quickly being walled back up before the rolling in his stomach could snowball into vomiting and tears and screaming. Jonas wished he could close her eyes, or at least the one that was still in its socket, but Malik had told him to cut off her eyelids early on so she’d be forced to watch every incision made to her body.

“Good job, lover,” Malik cooed, giving Jonas’s midsection a squeeze. “She looks stunning.”

She looked fucking mutilated, desicrated to the point dental records would be her only hope in ever being identified. Her body was lying in a pool of her own blood, marred with gashes reflecting the different shapes of the knives Jonas had to use. There were several stabs to her stomach in which Jonas had to dig two fingers in to fish out a coil of intestines. Her right arm had been bisected while her left breast was skinned. Jonas couldn’t handle thinking about everything that had been done below her waist.

“Are we done?” Jonas mumbled. He could barely move his lips or contract his throat to form the words. He didn’t want to do anything. He just wanted to sink into the depths of his own mind to avoid confronting the awful reality of what he just did.

Malik clicked his tongue, disappointed in him wanting to cut the fun short. “Fine, yeah, we can be done. For a kiss.”

Fuck it. That was the least disturbing request from Malik during this whole time. Normally, it would have made Jonas’s skin crawl and he’d rather go without whatever miniscule thing he’d asked for. Sometimes Malik didn’t give him a choice regardless. He was still unclear if the kisses forcefully given to him were because his captor felt a genuine attraction to Jonas or if they were just another psychological tactic to humiliate him. A bit of column A, a bit of column B. No matter, Jonas was ready to end this goddamn movie once and for all.

Without a second thought, he craned himself around to face Malik to the best of his ability, seeing as he was still pressed into his front. It was a little embarrassing how Jonas had to strain himself to be able to reach Malik’s mouth, tugging down the bandana to plant his lips over the other man’s. It was a quick kiss, but Jonas made sure to press hard enough that his teeth hurt so his tormentor couldn’t pull the shitty excuse that it was barely a peck, swindling him for another kiss that Malik would eagerly deepen. His captor almost looked a tad surprised at how bold Jonas was, doing exactly what he had been told without hesitation. Over an hour of torture can ingrain that behavior into someone.

Like the asshole he was, Malik’s mouth, smeared from the droplets of blood that had clung to Jonas’s lips, twitched up into a crooked grin. “Thank you, but I was actually talking about her.”

Jonas’s eyes widened at that, instantly looking at the wreckage of the corpse's face. If such a thing could even be called a face anymore. The nose had been sliced off as well as both of her lips, making her resemble a bloody skull with her exposed nasal cavity and teeth. Her cheeks had been cut into a Glasgow smile while a hole had been drilled under her chin to pull her tongue through to create a Columbian necktie – all regional terms Jonas just recently heard of thanks to Malik. Where exactly was he meant to kiss her, furthermore why in the everloving fuck would he want to assult her remains like that. Hadn’t he disrespected her enough when she was alive? Was necrophilia going to be the main plot of the sequel to this accursed snuff film?

Seeing the fresh panic breaking up the shell shocked expression on Jonas’s features was enough to make Malik laugh while he wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. He had a nice laugh, and a nice smile, too. It was a shame he had to be one of the most evil sadists in the entire history of serial killers. That’s what they always say about mass murderers after they’re finally caught though, isn’t it, how charming they were? Malik could be charming in his own way, like when he carved his name into Jonas’s left arm so he’d always have a piece of him. Really, how thoughtful. It paired quite well with the multitude of scars and discoloration on every other square inch of his body.

“I’m kidding. Not much left there to kiss anyways,” Malik's mood had certainly improved once they started getting into the groove of his favorite pastime. As Jonas started to heed his directions, his threats shifted from clipped to encouraging; he’d even go as far as to say delighted whenever Jonas made a wound without any prompting from Malik. He didn’t care that Jonas wasn’t actually enjoying himself the same way, he was just happy to see blood spill over soft, pretty features.

When Malik’s arm at last unwound itself from where it had been held firm around Jonas’s waist, it felt like he could breathe again. It was a miracle he didn’t collapse without his support to keep him upright, his fall sure to be broken by the discarded muscle tissue and oozing viscera that had leaked over the gurney’s edge. Jonas wanted to grab onto the gurney on the off chance his shaking knees gave out, but that would mean submerging his fingers into the still warm blood. Not that it made much difference given he was utterly drenched in her fluids, especially his hands up to his forearms. He’d just have to hope that his last nerve didn’t pop and cause him to careen onto the floor, more so because he knew Malik would just leave him to ‘sleep’ in the gore.

It was almost strange to not have the familiar weight of Malik clinging to him after having grown accustomed to the feeling over the past hour. That didn’t mean it was unwelcome, of course. Jonas was more than happy to have his captor remove himself from his vicinity. Frankly, he’d prefer if they kept the minimum distance of at least three hundred miles. Sadly, for the moment, Jonas was going to have to be content with a mere ten or so feet when Malik walked over to the tripod set up to end the recording. Seeing the ominous red eye blink off made Jonas want to cry out in something, an expression of emotion he couldn’t describe. It was over, it was done. He’d killed a person, maimed her for over an hour and forced her to endure every minute of it to save himself from being used as an early replacement.

But the session had finally ended. There was no more blood that Jonas had to spill as almost all of it was drained outside of the cooling body. He had survived mostly intact on a mental level, though the same could not be said for the physical state of…what had they named her again? No, no, no, putting a name to a pulverized face humanized her too much, it brought back the feelings of guilt that he had just butchered a living person, he couldn’t compartmentalize her into something inanimate if he recognized her as another human being. Jane, was it Jane? Jane Doe.

He was so, so fucking sorry Jane Doe.

“Ah, damn. That sucks,” Malik huffed. He fiddled with a couple buttons on the camera with pursed lips, ultimately shrugging and powering down the device when it didn’t do whatever he was trying to achieve. “Bad news, Jonie, the memory card corrupted.”

Jonas didn’t have the slightest idea what that meant, having never been a very technically inclined person. He knew a memory card was what stored, well, the memories and stuff like videos and photographs, but what did it mean that it was corrupted? The only connotation he had with the word was how disgustingly corrupted Malik and his buddy Tucker and whoever else involved in the trafficking ring were that they were willing to trade innocent lives for a couple bucks. Although, to be fair, Jonas felt pretty certain Malik would happily do most of his illegal activities for free like a passion project if he had the opportunity. Memory cards couldn’t do that, right?

The lack of understanding must have been evident on Jonas’s red speckled face because Malik offered a follow up explanation. “It means the footage got all fucked up. We can’t use it.”

Can’t use it? What did he mean can’t use it? What the hell was the point of this last hour of violent torture if not a single minute of it was salvageable to sell as a movie? Malik had to be teasing him again, trying to get a rise out of Jonas who had yet to fully succumb to the knowledge of the atrocities committed by his hand. Yet, he looked mildly annoyed at the prospect of all that sickening footage being lost, no longer having the cherished memory of baby’s first crime against mankind. Disappointing to be sure, but not something that Malik would be hung up on for too long. Not like Jonas who was sinking into the realization that everything he’d just done had been all for nothing.

He killed a woman for nothing. A girl died in agony for nothing. The stain on his consciousness was for nothing. The blood dripping down his cheeks was for nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing, absolutely fucking nothing! Even if Jonas had managed to fully convince himself that he was in the right for murdering that poor girl, it wouldn’t have mattered because nothing had come out of her senseless end. The whole reason she was destined to be slaughtered was for some random internet sicko to watch, and now there wasn’t even a final product to honor her sacrifice. A part of Jonas had held onto the sliver of hope that maybe, somehow, the footage would be leaked between Malik and the buyer and end up in the possession of someone who might have recognized the girl. Someone who, even if they couldn’t bring anyone involved to justice, could at least give her family closure rather than live on wondering where their missing child or sibling went.

And maybe, with his own selfish hope, they would also recognize Jonas in the footage as the missing Belmont heir and scurry post haste to save him from the clutches of a man who was looking to soil the good family name. No way would his parents let such vile footage of their son exist to be seen by the common folk and investors, that would only tank their stock value. If they didn’t care about the psychological damage done to their child, they would at least care about their public image enough to make a big spectacle of creating a memorial park for Jane Doe, naming a scholarship in her honor, paying her grieving family more than enough to cover for a lavish funeral. It was all the least she deserved. It was all Jonas could hope to offer in repentance if he made it out of here alive.

He wasn’t sure when he started crying, but he was vaguely aware that his vision was blurring with the sting of new tears. Salty tracks cut through the red stains drying on his face, dripping off in pink splashes onto his ruined nightshirt. It still felt like he was partly outside of his body, knowing that he was crying and knowing why he was crying, yet unable to entirely connect with the crippling emotion that was forcing its way out from the mental barrier of PTSD. Jonas wanted to fall to his knees and scream, he wanted to hold what remained of the girl and sob for forgiveness from her body, he wanted to grab the bone saw still imbedded in her femur and slash at Malik’s throat until he was bled dry like the fucking pig he was.

It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Jonas was a murderer and there wasn’t even a profit to show for it.

Malik popped the ruined memory card out of its slot and pocketed it to burn later. What a waste of a day. Now he was going to have to clean up and dispose of this mess with no satisfaction of being able to watch the massacre over again later. Oh well, it happens, even if he was annoyed that he wouldn’t be able to play back all of Jonas’s little squeals and flinches every time he dug into the girl’s body. He walked over to where Jonas was barely holding himself together, looking like he was going to shatter at a pindrop. Red looked good splattered against his tan skin, though some of the splotches covered up the rainbow of bruises Malik had lovingly placed.

“Hey, don’t worry, it’s not a big deal,” Malik said, wrapping an arm around Jonas’s trembling shoulders to make the boy lean into him. “I’ll get a new girl next week and we can reshoot it.”

He let Jonas slip out from under the hug to crumble to the bloody floor and sob.

100 notes · View notes

toweroftunes · 1 year

Text

waaaaaay 😭 more than six sentences sunday ☀️

thank you for the tag as always @silluuuu!!! OKAY. as you know, I wanted to get Chapter 2 done by today (and was even writing more of it last night), but I'd rather have it be decent than rushed. that said, I'm including the beginning of this chapter below the cut because Happy New Year's and stuff!!!

anyway, please also enjoy Wes meeting Maka for technically the second time:

~~~~~

Turning around, Wes finally noticed that there was another person in the room. A person who was not his brother. A person who was now privy to the details of his sex life.

Not that Wes actually cared. He merely tilted his sunglasses up to the top of his head and said, “Oh. Hellooo.”

“Hello,” Maka replied.

Wes slid past Soul and sat in the seat next to Maka, extending his hand. “Wes Evans. You’ll have to excuse me, I’m usually ninety six percent less hungover, and twenty two percent more charming.”

Where the hell was he getting those numbers from? Soul briefly buried his face in his right hand.

“I’ll take your word for it,” she said, shaking his hand. “I’m Maka.”

~~~~~

(Grain of salt, people. This is un-betaed):

~~~~~

Maka’s mouth was dry. Opening her eyes in a bleary state, she reached for the water she normally kept on her nightstand, only to find her arm falling through thin air instead. Oh, right. She wasn’t at home. She was at Soul’s place.

The dull throb of an oncoming headache spread across the left side of her skull. She pulled the blanket she was wrapped in over her face and groaned. Damn. She was supposed to get stuff done today. Ah, well, wouldn’t get to it any faster if she kept on laying there, would she?

So, Maka slowly sat up on the couch and rubbed her eyes. On the coffee table a few feet away sat a small pile of pins and ties she’d made when she let her hair down. Next to it sat her water from the night before, mostly full. She knelt on the ground and inched her way over to it. After tossing back a good portion of the glass, Maka set her elbows on the table, buried her head in her hands, and let out a soft laugh.

It was kinda funny, wasn’t it? How things turn out sometimes?

At one point or another, she texted Star that she was staying at a friend’s. She didn’t bother to see what he texted back. Probably something inappropriate or annoying, but most likely both.

Shit, her phone! Where was…ah, she’d left it in her coat.

Turning her head in the direction of where she remembered the front door to be, she stood up and stretched out. Alright then…phone, phone, phone. She hoped it was still charged.

Walking over to the coat rack, she took in just how nice Soul’s apartment was.

‘It’s not like, super dirty or anything,’ he’d said last night. ‘But I didn’t clean before I went out tonight, ya know?’

Maka remembered saying something she thought was funny, but looking back was probably embarrassing, in response. ‘Are you telling me that a potato flew around your room before I came?’

It couldn’t have been all too bad, though, because she remembered him laughing back, fumbling with his keys. ‘Really into your internet jokes, aren’t you?’

‘Who isn’t?’

‘Yeah, well, all I’m saying is that it usually doesn’t rain, ya know?’

There were smatterings of mess here and there, but living with Star, she’d seen worse. No doubt, when she got home, there’d be a full kitchen sink to still clean up. Lamenting that fact, she admired Soul’s clean enough kitchen and its shiny, matching appliances.

The exposed brick in the hall made her think the place might be a gut-job. Or maybe it was just meant to look that way for character, or whatever it was people liked so much about exposed brick. Either way, Soul must be paying big bucks for it. Tall ceilings, a snow-dusted balcony, and a living room large enough to comfortably fit a grand effing piano in the corner – all that was definitely more than the six seventy five a month she was paying living with Star and Tsu.

Reaching the entryway and making for her coat, she wondered not for the first time in the last twelve hours, how he actually afforded this place. In her wondering, she shoved her hands a tad too roughly into her pockets, causing the coat to fall to the floor.

“Come on…” she muttered to herself. Kneeling down to grab the thing, she was met eye-level with a large frame covered in semi-torn bubble wrap, leaning against the wall. Peaking out at the edge of the ripped plastic, was an overly serious version of someone who looked an awful lot like Soul.

Maka would like to say that no one could accuse her of being nosy, but the fact of the matter was that she’d been accused of such behavior more times than she could count on her fingers and toes combined. She was old enough now to accept it. So she peeled the plastic back.

NIGHT HEIST — Coming to Theaters November 12.

And there he was, face shadowed in the corner, but one hundred percent totally there.

Soul Evans.

What…the fuck?

Maka’s hand reached back for her phone on the floor and gripped it tight in her fingers, her brain rapidly trying to recall how exactly she’d ended up spending the night with a fucking movie star without noticing she was spending the night with a fucking movie star.

#big time #six sentence sunday #soul eater fanfiction #soul x maka #ALSO the other thing i'm currently writing is in present tense and i was telling myself last night when i was revisiting this #okay okay remember this is in a different tense and what did i do??#uh-huh #now i have to go back and change it 😭

12 notes · View notes

whumping-newbie · 2 years

Text

Malia I - The Rebel

I was playing Hitman again in my favourite level. Made a new OC to whump XD I suppose one could argue that this is Hitman fanfiction set in the world of the “A Gilded Cage” mission.

Thanks to @justplainwhump and @whumpopology for inspiring me to actually write it!! Going to tag @whumpmasinjuly too for day 12′s prompt “Rebellion”!

Cw for kidnapping by military officers, choking.

POV: Malia

The nights in the streets of Marrakesh are livelier than I am used to.

The souk that is open during the day is still largely open now too, probably because the night air brings a coolness that makes the atmosphere more enjoyable. The people wandering the winding roads, the vendors selling wares, the eateries providing food and drink to patrons as they pass by.

And until just a few moments ago, I was one of them.

I hadn't noticed quite how late it was, and I have work in the morning, so I should probably go home.

I don't live far from the souk I was just at. About five minutes away at the very most. The amount of pedestrians wandering the streets certainly drops the further away from the souk you get, as does the lights. The chill of the night air keeps me aware enough of my surroundings as I pass by the abandoned primary school, loose bits of brick and metal fencing still litter this particular stretch of alleyway.

I can't really describe it, but the solitude of these streets are a far cry from where I came from, on edge at every turn. This is a nice, peaceful stroll in the evening that I couldn't be afforded just barely two weeks ago.

Even lovelier is that I can practice my ever-building French and Arabic skills with my new neighbours. I’m not perfect, but I know enough to survive.

I take another glance at my wristwatch. Almost ten to midnight. At least I have already eaten, so I can just go straight home and not bother my neighbours -

The sound of something heavy hitting the ground rang behind me and I snapped my head around. The previously empty alleyway now had a lone, heavy looking duffel bag in the middle of it, and before I could wonder how it got there, a figure scrambled over the wall dividing the alleyway from the abandoned school.

They were a soldier, at least, their uniform gave that away. Camoflague with a bulletproof vest over their chest. They looked down the alley away from me, scooping up the bag, and finally their gaze settled on me.

I had barely processed the unusual behavior before the soldier hurried over in my direction. Partially out of wariness, and partially out of shock, I simply moved aside to clear the alleyway for him.

But instead, he slowed down beside me.

"Mademoiselle, I need your help," he said in a low whisper, taking my arm in his and starting to walk at a brisk pace with me. He spoke French, which admittedly caught me off guard. All of the policemen I had seen earlier spoke Arabic when I was asking for directions.

I free my arm from his, "monsieur, what are you -?"

"Just walk with me. Don't make too much noise, please."

Because that sounds like something a man with good intentions would say to a woman in the middle of the night.

"Sir, I will not..."

He reaches into his pocket as he pulls me around the corner, looking over his shoulder at the fence he just clambered over.

"Come with me," he says in a hurried whisper.

He continues to guide me down the street, away from the one I use to go home, and I force my feet to stop following him. "No!"

"Madam, this is urgent," he turns to face me, leaning down to my level.

"And what makes you think I'll just follow a strange man who dragged me down an alleyway?"

He ponders this, looking over my shoulder at the doorway in the wall. He pulls me there instead, and i don't know why I don't just scream for help. Something keeps my voice from getting any louder. He looks around, before taking out something from his trouser pocket and handing it to me. It's a phone.

"Take this, and give it to the papers. Upload it to the internet. Take it to the police. Please, it's important. It has to be done tonight."

"Why should I -"

"Because the fate of this entire country is at stake, and I need you to -"

"But why can't you do it?"

"Because I just deserted from my army, and giving you that phone probably constitutes treason, but people need to see what's going on -"

Suddenly a blinding light hits my vision, disorienting me so fast I barely have time to put my hands up before someone else has grabbed me and pulled me out of the doorway, covering my mouth with a large, gloved hand.

"Stay quiet, or I'll shoot," the voice hisses in my ear. Another voice. A different voice.

A more menacing one.

Something hard presses into the small of my back. A gun.

I try to fight, to push him off me, but he's so much bigger and stronger than me -!

Another voice cuts through the once nocturnal stillness to deliver a sharp command in Arabic, but all I could understand was “get them off the street”.

The soldier who had led me here was on the floor, groaning from a blow to the head as he is soundlessly handcuffed by another soldier.

The one holding me speaks into my ear, again in Arabic. In my panic I could only catch fragments what he was saying to me. Something about “being quiet”, I’m not too sure.

I don't even have the chance to form an answer before the soldier moves his hands from my face, and instead wraps his entire arm around my neck, constricting my breathing so fast that I barely register it.

I try to pull him off, try to breathe, but he’s just so much stronger than me. Kicking out is fruitless, there’s nothing I can kick that would help me.

My head spins and my arms go slack. Black spots dance in the already dark alleyway, and the last thing I see before I slip into unconsciousness, is the body of the soldier beside me getting picked up and taken away.

#whump #my writing #kidnapping #choking #POV: Malia #it has been a Hot Whumpy While since i posted to this blog lmao #fanfiction #hitman fanfiction #hitman reza zaydan #hitman a gilded cage

32 notes · View notes

someone1348 · 2 years

Text

I have written my ideas down so we are ready to go!

I'm giving ya'll a break from the angst with this one lol! I'm very excited! I hope you all enjoy!

The people in this: Lee!Dewey, Ler!Huey, Ler!Louie

This contains slight spoilers from the episode "Only Child Day" soo be warned in advance if you haven't seen it and you don't want to be spoiled! It's nothing major but still! :] /pos

Tw: none this is incredibly soft!

With all that being said I hope you enjoy!

-K :]

____________~☆°♡°☆°♡°☆~______________

Set Fails!

"Live online! its Dewey Dew-Night! Digital Dewey Dew bites branded online content! With the Dew crew house band!! Dew that thing!"

Other than being a man of adventure Dewey also loved the world of media! Directing, acting, film in general! It was his secret passion, so he started his own web show called "Dewey Dew-Night" when he insisted they have 'Only Child Day' a holiday he made up so he can do what he wants to do by himself! It wasn't a total fail but that's where "Dewey Dew-Night" had it's first appearance to the world!

Webby was the first to find out about it through her spying on him but soon his brothers knew too and everyone else. Dewey didn't have to hide anymore which was good and they even made a separate corner in their shared room for him to do his show; but with the more people that knew, the more distractions it created and this was Live!

He didn't have the luxury of editing all that much of the show and it became very frustrating after a while.

"Okay internet! I have tried alot! To get noticed, celebrity interviews, jokes, explosions and this is the thanks I get!" He held up the video showing 14 likes and 15 dislikes; Dewey put it back down and smirked

"So I'm gonna give you all something so big! So epic! So impossibly viral that it's going to crack the internet in half AND THEN IN HALF AGAIN!" He brought out a bunch of things and layed them onto his desk his smirk growing "prepared to be quartered!" He smiled "Drum roll please" running over to the 'house band' he clicked the button on his keyboard before running to set everything up

He flicked on a spotlight and got ready with the newset Dewey stunt, lighting a sparkler and smirking "Hey internet, see you on the other side" he was about to do it when the lights flicked back on and the sparkler went out

"Uh- What? Hey im live streaming here!" He looked over as his brothers walked in, Huey making his way in front of the camera to go to his bed as he spoke

"Sorry Dewford, bedtime, I have a junior woodchuck sapling ceremony in the morning!" He smiled sitting on his bed out of frame

"But this is a late night talk show! I have to record it at night!" The duck in blue complained before the youngest came into frame yawning

"I had a long day of watching TV and I am wiped! I'll be taking this back!" He smirked grabbing one of the blankets Dewey used as a background curtain

"Louie!" He sighed slowly putting everything back before Louie spoke again

"Would you be a dear and get the lights" Dewey frowned turning everything off except for the spotlight

"All the lights" Louie insisted before Dewey smirked

"No" he spoke with confidence as he crossed his arms

"Im sorry no? I know you did not just say no to me!" Louie said sitting up now properly staring at the middle child

"I did! This is my show and I want to finish it!" He continued looking back at him

"Huey! Dewey just said no to me are you gonna let that slide!" He called up to the oldest with crossed arms as Huey sighed lightly before forming a plan

"I understand both of your sides of this debate, however Dewey is not gonna budge so either try to sleep with the light on or we join the show for a bit so he can continue to make it" Huey said giving Louie that look secretly without Dewey noticing, they have a look that says 'let's wreck this middle child' Dewey never catches on, it's subtle but they know!

"Fineee" Louie sighed playing along "we'll be on your show, but only for tonight so we can sleep"

"Really?! Yesss! Thank you!!" He unpaused the video as his brothers joined in

"Record scratch! We have a twist in tonight's content! My brothers have decided to appear here for you live! For the first time ever it's Huey and Louie! Give it up everybody!" He clicked the button on the keyboard that created applause as they waved sleepily.

Dewey recently got a couch for the show rather than that broken old chair so the pair sat comfortably there while Dewey went over some of the basic questions

It was becoming a really great show before Louie fidgeted in his seat and asked Dewey to come take a look at it because something could be wrong, and we all know that Dewey needed his space to be perfect!

"Huh I don't see any-WOAH!" With that Dewey was pulled up onto Louies lap, his head resting on his tighs while Huey wrapped his legs up in his

Dewey tried squirming as he growled "let me go! What's happening! This isn't funny you guys!"

Louie shared a smirk with his brother before wiggling his fingers teasingly at Dewey "It's about to get a whole lot funnier dearest Dewford~"

"Nononono- WAHAHAIT GUHUHUYS NOHOHOT FAHAHAIR!" He wiggled as best he could before covering his mouth trying to reduce the noise

"Oh no no no! We can't have the viewers miss out on your precious giggles now can we!" Louie said with a smirk pinning Dewey's arms up and behind him

"No no no guhuhuys! HuhuhueEEY! HAHA!" Huey giggled a little with him as the adventurers laughter increased as he scribbled under his knees

"Sorry Dewey but I have an important day Tommrow and we all need rest!" He smiled as Louie scribbled along his neck

"TIhiHicklEs! Ihihit Tihihickles! NoHoT FAhair!" Dewey let himself laugh, his body tired too from staying up passed his bedtime.

"Mhm! Exactly, this is what you get for saying no to me!" Louie giggled too as Dewey squeezed his eyes shut

"Oh this is totally fair, now if I did this! This is unfair!" The youngest smirked skittering along his ribs

"NAHAHAHAAHA LOHOHOHOUIEEHEHE NOHOHOT THEHEHERE!" He threw head back in defeat laughing as his ribs got the most attention out of the whole show

"Yes here! Tickle Tickle Tickle Deweyyy~" Louie giggled smirking as Huey joined in

"I haven't heard you laugh in so long, I really missed it"

Dewey's face went red with embarrassment at Hueys comment before he felt Huey tickle his bellybutton

"NAHAHAHAAHA PLEAHAHAHASE!"

After a little while his laughter fell scilent so they both stopped, rubbing away the ghost tickles and holding him close

"You okay Dew?" Louie asked rubbing circles in his back as Dewey nodded giggling up a storm

"I think it's bedtime yeah?" Huey asked smiling and placing a hand on Dewey's shoulder as he nodded again with a yawn this time

"Welp thahats going in the archives"

Louie giggled with a smirk "Too late I already uploaded it, whoops~"

"LOUIE!"

---------------------------------------------------

I hope you all enjoyedd!

-K :]

#k writes tk things #ducktales 2017 tickle fic #ducktales 2017 tickle #ducktales tickle #ducktales tickle fic #lee!dewey #ler!huey #ler!louie

16 notes · View notes

trensu · 3 years

Text

Jon's Creeping Terror Fun Fact Corner!

You know how Cecil has his Fun Fact Science Corner segment on his radio show? Well, Jon has his own show produced by The Magnus Studio. It's an educational kids show all about the Entities of Fear!! It's a very specific kind of kids show. You know the ones. Those kids shows that children are absolutely mad for but any adult in their vicinity is left deeply unsettled by them? Yep. On the surface, the show seems fine but if any adult dwells on the content for more than five minutes, they are left feeling very very unnerved, especially since the host, one Jonathan Sims, seems more than a little unhinged half the time.

The show is so popular it gets almost 15 whole episodes! (It gets cancelled at 14 bc at that point it had received far too many retrospective complaints from parents to continue any further). Sometimes, the episodes even have special guests!! Although it got cancelled, you can obviously still find it on the internet if you know where to look. There's even compilations of all the show's best Unhinged moments.

The Vast Episode

Jon: Today's episode is about the Vast! And to tell us more about it we have Simon Fairchild visiting us. Kids, if you ever see this man in person, please run very far in the opposite direction.

Simon: Thank you for that warm introduction, Jon. Now children, who here likes ROLLER COASTERS?

Jon: And that's it for our special guest [proceeds to literally kick an old man until he's off screen] Do not trust this man and please be careful when going on roller coasters in the future.

The Lonely Episode

Jon, reading from the teleprompter: We have an expert of the Lonely with us, Mr. Peter Lu--what? No!! Why's he here? Get him off my set! What do you mean no? I don't care how much funding he gives the studio!! He tried to take Martin away!

[scene cuts off and starts back up with Martin sitting next to Jon, looking particularly sweet and cuddly in a knitted jumper]

Jon: Here we have m-my Martin, I-I mean my ASSISTANT Martin Blackwood. Say hi to Mr. Blackwood, children.

[Jon is a twitchy mess and cannot even look at Martin's direction. Martin looks flushed]

Martin: Er, yes, h-hello.

Jon: Martin has experience [this is hissed with all the venom he can muster] with the Lonely. He's going to teach us the best way to avoid that evil, conniving bast--

Martin, hastily cuts in: Yes, well! Kids, who do you have in your life that you love? It can be anyone! Your siblings, your pets, your friends! Anyone at all!

[at the edge of the set, just barely visible, Peter can be seen crammed into a cage gleefully guarded by Daisy]

(it's during this episode Jon finds out that he's not allowed to use naughty words on the show. All the stuff with the murder and the skinning and the worms and such is fine! Just no cussing. Jon is befuddled and aghast. This is why Hopworth was not allowed as a guest; he's a very swear-y man)

The Corruption Episode

[Jon is seen clutching a jar of ashes throughout the entire episode with absolutely no explanation as to what it is or why it's there]

Jon, gesturing manically: and that's why it's important to see a doctor when you're sick and have an exterminator on speed dial.

[Martin comes onto the scene with a worried look on his face. The screen goes to black for a moment, then reappears with Jon still clutching his jar but looking significantly calmer. He smiles at the camera and it almost looks normal]

Jon: To finish the episode, can you demonstrate the proper handwashing technique we taught you at the start? Be sure to tell your parents what you've learned about infection control and have them show you where the CO2 is kept in your home!

The Hunt Episode

Jon, earnestly happy: This is my best friend Daisy! She's going to help us learn about the Hunt. She's one of the bravest people I know.

[Daisy turns away to hide a shy smile before clearing her throat and starting in on a rehearsed lecture. The episode ends with her and Jon making the children repeat the "don't listen to the blood, listen to the quiet" mantra and also "all cops are bastards."]

(Basira, in post production: ...yeah, that's fair.)

The Flesh Episode

Parents are horrified when they hear their children singing "you are what you eat, meat is meat!" whenever they play after that episode airs.

(Martin: Just to be clear, we're encouraging cannibalism??

Jon: no! ...maybe? i don't know, Martin, they told me it tested well with the focus group children

Martin: yes, okay, but WHY did you come up with that jingle?

Jon: Don't look at me like that, I'm not crazy, Martin! I wouldn't just eat a person. But, well, if someone asked me to eat them like, after they died, I wouldn't necessarily say no...?

This conversation was recorded and leaked somehow. And that's how Actual Cannibal Jon Sims became a trending meme. He has to do a PR statement confirming that he "has never knowingly eaten a person" and that that was "a completely hypothetical discussion." This convinces as many people as you think it would.)

The Stranger Episode

Nikola: I don't much like children. Not enough skin on them to do anything really fun.

Jon: Why are you--how did you even get in?? S-Security! Someone come get her out of--

Nikola: oh, but I have information for the little ones! [she pulls out a basket of high-end skincare products and looks directly into the camera with her featureless face] These are the lotions that are best for Archivist flesh but I'm sure they work for the kiddies as well! You all want to grow up to have lots of beautiful skin don't you? Here, let me show you how to use them! [attempt to lotion Jon]

Jon: [flinches away] Security! O-or Daisy. DAISY!

[growling is heard and we get a flash of a wolfish Daisy body-slamming Nikola to the ground. The rest of the episode has Tim shoving Jon off screen and going on a rant about circuses and how to best explode them. This becomes one of their most popular episode amongst the children]

Breekon and Hope show up occasionally in the background of various episodes and become something like an Easter egg for fans of the show.

Anyway, I love the idea of kids adoring socially awkward, neurotic mess of a man Jonathan Sims. Jon is completely confounded by his popularity but also, he's glad of it bc that means the children will be more prepared if they ever encounter any of the Entities (most parents think it's all fiction, except for the ones who've had Encounters with one of the entities; Jon ends up with a sort of underground cult following comprised of survivors of fear encounters)

I blame @lemonisinplay (and Jonny Sims) for the entirety of this post, tbh. She came up with the name and half the stuff here XD

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #daisy tonner #basira hussain #tim stoker #peter lukas #simon fairchild #nikola orsinov #jonmartin #trensu tells stories #jon's creeping terror fun fact corner

415 notes · View notes

apocalypticgargoyle · 3 years

Text

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝟒. ♡ 𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

"Hi! I hope u have a lovely day :] I was wondering if I could request an imagine where you're online friends with Gogy and one day you send him a picture wearing his merch and he can't stop thinking about it and finally ends up telling you he has a crush on you?? Thank you in advance :] I really enjoy your writing"

pairing: georgenotfound x reader

warnings: Zoom Video Communications none :)

links: | ao3 | request | masterlist |

⋆ song recommendation: Slowly by Josh Gilligan

(streamer bf gogy brainrot brrr) hello sweet anon! thank you for much for this request :) I love love love all the geo simps and their ideas. also thank you to my dearest LB for helping me with the plot help. happy reading, everyone! ♡ ᵍᵉⁿᵉ

You tapped your fingers on your desk, nails clattering at you waiting to be let into your third Zoom meeting of the day. Usually, you got off with only one lecture, but because of upcoming exams, you were finding yourself in and out of virtual meetings and office hours. Sure, it was better than jogging from building to building, fighting the crowds, and searching for a seat in a packed lecture hall, but it was still wearing you down beyond belief.

You rested your chin in your hand as your window went from white to dark grey, the square with your name getting wedged in beside the professor. Everyone’s cameras were off, a thankful sigh leaving your lips as your head slumped down to lay against your arm, the danger of falling asleep suddenly becoming more prominent.

You jumped slightly as your professor cleared their throat, sharing their screen and beginning to ramble off facts listed on the slideshow. You played with your keyboard, focused on removing a crumb from beneath your spacebar that was almost unreachable. You usually took notes in the class, but today was just one of those days.

“... And with that in mind, I’m going to put you all into breakout rooms…” Your professor trailed off, eyebrows furrowed as they peered at their screen and clicked frantically to assign all of you to rooms. You yawned, smacking your cheeks and sitting up. You were determined not to be a shitty partner, at least. The white box popped up, inviting you to join breakout room four. That’s always lucky, you thought to yourself as you joined.

Once again, you were cursed to look at the buffering wheel of death as your internet struggled to sustain all your opened tabs. Please, just a little longer, you groaned internally, eyes dashing towards the receiver and exhaling in relief as your computer connected to the breakout room. You turned on your camera, eliciting your partner, George, to do the same.

You flashed him a smile as you struggled to open the article from the previous night. “Hi! How’s it going?” You greeted, not yet looking at him.

“I’m good, actually. How are you?” He engaged, his voice deep and tired.

You finally managed to split your screen enough so that you could see him and the article. “Yeah, I’m good too. Thanks,” you chewed the inside of your cheek, eyes skimming some of the notes you’d etched into the margins. “So, did you have any idea what,” you paused, squinting at the author’s name, “Robert A. Schneider means when he discusses how ‘men of letters’ fear the lower class more than anything?” You asked, as your eyes trailed across your screen to finally gauge his reaction, you were taken aback by his appearance.

His soft features and dark eyes made you feel safe. As he smiled softly, running his fingers into his hair, he seemed to be racking his brain for an answer. He opened his mouth to begin, detailing what you had previously thought with better articulation.

The two of you got through the basic questions the professor had scripted for the students, then finding yourself still stuck in the breakout room. On a normal day, your professor would have pulled everyone back into the call after the first few questions.

George swiveled in his chair quietly as he listened to you briefly explain your area of study. His kind smile made your heart flutter slightly. Deep down, you hoped the two of you would be stuck in the room for a while.

Soon your topics blended into what kind of movies you both watched, a debate on where you could buy the cheapest bread on campus, and what kind of party people the two of you were. After an hour, instead of worrying whether or not your professor was dead, you were swapping numbers and planning out how the two of you would turn the Florida Keys into the headquarters of your new cult where the members would all worship a separate bitchy philosopher.

You pulled one of your legs to your chest, resting your cheek against your knee as his laughing died out. “Okay, this might be a weird question, but I need to know why your webcam is so clear. Is it like an OnlyFans thing or…”

He chuckled. “Yeah it’s definitely OnlyFans,” he joked, making you laugh. “I’m actually a ᵐⁱⁿᵉᶜʳᵃᶠᵗ ˢᵗʳᵉᵃᵐᵉʳ” he mumbled.

Your eyebrows perked playfully. “You’re a what?”

He pursed his lips to fit the grin stretching across his face. “ᵃ ᵐⁱⁿᵉᶜʳᵃᶠᵗ ˢᵗʳᵉᵃᵐᵉʳ”

You snorted slightly. “Sorry darling, you’ll have to speak up. What was that?”

He wet his lips, rolling his eyes as he bashfully groaned. “I’m a Minecraft streamer.”

You giggled, him basking in your disbelief. He smiled a bit brighter as he shrugged, leaning back in his chair as you rambled off questions. “There’s no way! Nerd!” you chaffed, making him smile as if he liked it when you playfully teased him. “Are you super popular?” You asked, catching your breath.

He bit his bottom lip swaying his head slightly as if deciding not to answer. “Mmmm. Not really.”

“Well, come on, Georgios! Give me your Twitch user and I’ll be your biggest fan, I promise.” He laughed at your response, digging out his phone to send you a link.

“I’d like to see you try,” he mumbled.

After the class had finally ended, you’d learned that your professor was on the phone with their credit card company. In the following weeks, you and George were in constant contact, even becoming part of each other’s daily routines.

As you studied for finals, you’d turn on his stream, letting his voice alleviate some of the stress of your exams. He knew you were watching and would even drop hints for you in what he was saying, or he’d blatantly just ask what you were talking about in your essay for a certain class. After the stream would end, he’d call you either on Discord or the phone, just so it felt like the two of you were studying together.

Jokingly, you badgered him to send you some of his merch, threatening to buy it from a bootleg online store if he didn’t. He had only brushed it off at the time, but shortly after, you received a hoodie in the mail with his gamer tag printed across it.

It was late at night when you’d received it, the tiredness of your eyes and George’s dulcet tones lulling you towards the idea of a dead sleep. Yet, you were drawn from your pleasant relaxation with the shrilling of your doorbell. You shrugged out of your blanket cocoon, grabbing your phone and trudging down the stairs. As you tore open the bag, your phone buzzed with a text from George asking if you’d seen something that one of his chat members. You chuckled softly and dug your hand into the material, holding it out in front of you.

You snickered to yourself, running your fingers across the red patch in the center. You slipped it over your head, letting the softness of the fabric brush against your skin. You snapped a photo of yourself and stumbled back upstairs before sending it to him.

When you returned, George was focused on something he was crafting. His eyes darted down to one corner of the screen where his phone was probably sitting. His eyes flashed back up with a smug grin on his face as if he knew exactly what you were going to say. Your “Thanks sugar daddy xx,” probably didn’t help either.

“What, chat?” His voice came out slightly uneven as he bit back a smile. You skimmed what people were asking. “It’s not a nude. A friend of mine got something I sent them,” he answered nonchalantly, finishing up what he was doing. The chat began to spam quietly. “No, it’s not a maid costume. Jesus Christ.” He leaned back in his chair, grabbing his phone and opening your message.

A grin spread across his face, alongside the light dusting of rosy pigment settling in his cheeks. He chuckled to himself, quickly replying before getting back to his game. You scoffed at his response.

George (H325) Anything for my silly little baka

You curled up again, putting away your schoolwork and devoting your attention to watching his stream as you drifted off to sleep.

Once again, you found yourself at the mercy of your internet as you attempted to join the breakout room assigned to you. You almost jumped out of your chair when it finally connected and you found George waiting for you. You smiled slightly as he scrolled through his phone. “What are the chances?” You asked, pulling his eyes to you.

He grinned, clicking off whatever he was looking at. “I was just about to raid your inbox.”

You chuckled. “I almost wore your merch to class, just to out you to whoever my partner was,” you joked, making him roll his eyes.

“I’m glad it’s me then,” he responded. You began scrounging around for your article. After a beat of hesitation, George spoke up again. “Hey, I’m glad you like the sweatshirt…” You perked an eyebrow in his direction. “I actually haven’t been able to get that picture out of my head. I know it’s stupid,” he stated lightly, chuckling nervously. You could feel your heart beating in your ears. “It’s so lame, but I think I have a crush on you.”

You sat back in your chair, stunned. “I mean, the feeling’s mutual. Even if it’s lame,” you mirrored, winking at him. “I mean, maybe it’s not lame because I know I like you.”

He smiled to himself at your answer before chuckling, “Should we Zoom date or something?”

#georgenotfound headcanons #georgenotfound x y/n #georgenotfound fluff #georgenotfound x reader #mcyt x y/n #mcyt x reader #mcyt fluff #mcyt imagine #college au #gnf x reader #gnf brainrot #gnf my beloved #gnf x y/n

458 notes · View notes

clotpolesonly · 2 years

Note

scott & stiles + 42, if you're playing with the teen crab prompts 🥰

42. “Let me in?” (x)

Scott stared at the doorknob. At the places where the gold-ish coating had been scratched up and scraped off. It looked smaller from just a few inches up.

"Uh, Stiles? Let me in? Please?"

"It's not locked!" came the reply from inside. His words were just muffled enough that he probably had his hoodie string in his mouth again.

Stiles was probably on the computer, fully occupied with wikipedia or JSTOR or some obscure corner of the internet that google would never direct you to. He was in research mode and he'd probably found something important, hence the urgent text for Scott to come over, and was too engrossed to contemplate tearing his eyes away for even a second.

Scott clicked his claws together in frustration. "That is not the problem here, Stiles."

There was a huff and the rattle of Stiles' desk chair being rolled back. The door opened. Stiles froze in place, eyes wide. Then he laughed.

"Oh my god," he wheezed, bent over and holding onto his knees. "Oh my god."

"It's not funny!"

Stiles tried to say something but was immediately overcome with another fit of giggles. Scott's eye-stalks wiggled in a weird, disorienting kind of way. He could feel the chitinous exoskeleton creep another inch up his arms.

"Stiles, I can't figure out how to shift back!" he cried. "My mom's gonna be home in like two hours, this is crisis mode!"

"You can't — doors — with the — " Stiles opened and closed his hands in a mockery of Scott's claws. He had actual tears on his face. He was slowly sliding down the door frame, laughing too hard to support himself.

Scott pinched him. Stiles yelped. Served him right.

"Ow! Ow, ow, ow!" He swiped at Scott's claw indignantly and finally managed to get back on his feet properly, though he still had to fight down a stray chuckle every time he had to look up to where Scott's eyes now sat, on top of their stalks, sticking ridiculously out of the top of his head. Stiles pressed his lips together. "And to think, just yesterday I was going on about how weird Derek's half-shifted form looked without eyebrows."

"I hate you," Scott declared. "Can you fix me or not?"

"I found some promising stuff in an old alaskan mariner's journal somebody transcribed on the supernatural side of reddit." Stiles stepped back to gesture him inside. "I'll leave the door open," he said gamely. "Just, you know. As a courtesy. It would probably be a fire hazard if I—"

Scott pinched him again.

#and the answer is #momentofmemory #teencrab2022 #Scott McCall #crab!Scott #Stiles Stilinski #Teen Wolf #fics by me

25 notes · View notes

heyiwrotesomethings · 3 years

Text

Feeding the Weary Traveler

Mitsuri Kanroji x She/Her Reader

A/N: Warnings for this one are homophobia and a mention of physical assault. Let me know if you think I should mention anything else. It’s a relatively light story considering. I usually like to keep the sexuality of the reader undiscussed so it could be anything, but this time around reader doesn’t seem to be interested in men in the slightest. It’s only a couple of lines but just a heads up. Hope you like it! Sorry if there are more errors than usual. My internet is painfully slow and it makes uploading a chore and a half. Word Count: 6,388

Mitsuri hummed happily to herself as she surveyed the various food stalls lighting up the night around her. She wasn’t sure where she should begin, it all looked so good! She was so lucky to have stumbled upon this bustling little village, and during a festival no less! This dinner was going to be legendary! Hopefully there would be an inn nearby where she could rest between missions and take some time to enjoy it all.

Mitsuri decided that the sweet dango stall was calling her name so she made her way over there first and purchased four skewers. She chewed happily as she walked around and tried to decide what to try next. The dango tasted so good she had half a mind to go back and get a couple more.

The Hashira was about to approach a yakitori stall as she finished her last dango when her crow landed none too gracefully in the dirt beside her. She flapped her wings frantically, her little clover shaped crown slightly askew.

Mitsuri whined as she chewed the last bit of dango before swallowing it down. It looked like dinner was over before it really even started. Well, when duty calls...

She cast one last longing glance at the sizzling meats and followed after her crow out of the village’s well lit valley and into the dark mountains above. Lives could be on the line, dinner could wait.

Mitsuri scaled the rugged terrain, hopping from tree to tree. Her crow flapped erratically just ahead, guiding her to whatever demon was wreaking havoc tonight. Her fingers wrapped tightly over the hilt of her blade as the air became heavy with an overwhelming dense dread that could only be brought on by the demon’s bloodlust.

Mitsuri unfurled her blade and kicked off of the next tree branch particularly hard as a scream ripped through the craggy boulders. A few more leaps and bounds.., she did not slow, a scream could mean many things, it wasn’t over yet. They could still be alive!

Her crow cawed in alarm just as Mitsuri’s eyes locked onto a struggle in the brambles below. Almost on instinct, she cracked her whip-like blade over the demon’s grotesque form, causing it to shriek. The Hashira twirled in the air to land in front of the beast and the young woman trapped and writhing beneath it.

“Get off of her, you miserable fiend!” Mitsuri commanded, readying her blade to lash at the demon again.

The demon wailed again in anger, crushing the dirt beside its hostage’s head before tearing off into the forest in an attempt to get away from the powerful newcomer.

“Oh no you don’t!” Mitsuri called after it, cracking her nichirin blade over its retreating form. The blade sliced into the tendons in the back of one of its legs, causing it to tumble to the ground. Before it could skitter off to heal, Mitsuri swung her blade around again. The specially forged metal curled around the demon’s neck and with one clean yank, it’s head came clean off.

The slayer stayed alert, scanning the area for any other nearby threats. An exhausted caw from her crow alerted her that it was safe to let her guard down. She quickly turned on her heel to asses the young woman’s condition, observing her as she shakily got to her knees.

Her kimono was ripped and dirtied. Blood seemed to be seeping through her cloth of her shoulder. Her eyes were wide and frightened while her breath came shallow and quick.

“Are you alright?” Mitsuri spoke gently, slowly moving into the girl’s line of vision. She didn’t want to scare her anymore than she already had been tonight.

“I don’t know,” she said between gasping breaths, “I, I’m alive. That’s something.” She tried to get to her feet, but something twinged in her ankle and she fell back to her knees.

Mitsuri knelt at her side in concern.

The girl would need some medical attention. “My name is Kanroji Mitsuri. What’s your name?”

“(L/n) (Y/n).” She shakily replied.

“Let me help you home, (L/n)-san. Do you live in the village down below?” Mitsuri asked, helping (Y/n) to her feet, carrying most of her weight for her.

“No,” (Y/n) answered quickly, almost as if the insinuation pained her, “no, I don’t. I live here, in the mountains. My cottage isn’t too far from here.”

“I’ll help you get home, (Y/n)-san. Don’t worry, you’re in safe hands.” Mitsuri assured.

“Thank you, thank you so much.”

Mitsuri eyed the young woman sympathetically. The poor dear was still shaken, but managed to direct Mitsuri in the direction of her home while the Hashira carefully held her up, guiding her through the tough terrain.

Mitsuri frowned at the sight of the worn down shack as it came into view, this couldn’t be it, could it?

“There, I live there.” (Y/n) proclaimed, her voice laced with exhaustion. She must have been able to feel the shift in Mitsuri’s mood at the declaration because she then added, “It’s not much, but it’s home. I built it myself even.”

“Do you live here alone?” Mitsuri couldn’t help but ask, slightly horrified.

“I do.” (Y/n) affirmed, missing Mitsuri’s open-mouthed, wide-eyed shock when she stumbled towards the weathered door. “Thank you again, for saving me and bringing me back home.”

“You’re welcome but...” Mitsuri tried to find words but none would come finally she just shook her head and followed (Y/n)’s stumbling form to the door. “Do you have any medical supplies? Let me help patch you up.”

“I have some things. I’m not sure how helpful they’ll be. You needn’t concern yourself. You’ve done so much for me already, Kanroji-san.”

“Your shoulder could get infected without proper care and your ankle looks sprained or even broken. Let me see what I can do. We might need to take you to the village, there’s got to be a doctor down there.”

(Y/n) shook her head furiously, wincing a bit and grasping her head soon after, “I’m not going into town for anything. I’ll invite you to do what you can here, but that’s where I draw the line.”

Mitsuri was concerned by the girl’s reluctance to go to the village, but she took (Y/n)’s offer and entered the small shack. She was surprised by how homey the inside looked once (Y/n) lit a few lanterns. Not only that, but it smelt heavenly inside.

(Y/n) cursed under her breath as she hobbled over to some kind of makeshift oven and carefully peaked inside before sighing in relief and opened it fully. “It didn’t burn! Thank the gods for small favors I guess.”

“What have you got there, (L/n)-san? It smells very good in here.” Mitsuri said, holding a hand over her stomach in an attempt to quiet its rumbling.

“Bread. Please, help yourself. It’s the least I can offer for all of your help tonight.”

“Really? Thank you!” Mitsuri was practically glowing at the invitation before she remembered why she was here in the first place. “Later! First, let’s check you over.”

(Y/n) gestured to another corner of the space to a wobbly, rustic shelf next to a futon so flat it couldn’t possibly be comfortable to sleep on. Mitsuri’s heart went out to this girl. She couldn’t be too far off from her in age, this was no way to live, and alone no less.

Mitsuri recovered the tin sitting atop the bottom shelf and motioned the girl to sit on the ground as she noted there were no chairs. She kneeled beside (Y/n)’s injured shoulder. A pained grunt rumbled at the back of the hermit’s throat as she painstakingly loosened and lowered the fabric around her shoulders, baring the bloody claw marks to the Hashira.

“Oh you poor dear...” Mitsuri cooed as she gently probed the torn flesh. At least it wasn’t too deep.

“It’s fine,” (Y/n) shivered and looked away, “could you wrap me up now please. Try to be sparing with the bandages if possible.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Mitsuri frowned. She disinfected and wrapped the wound as Shinobu had shown her during her first aid training and managed to only use about a third of the already meager roll. “There,” she gently patted (Y/n)’s shoulder, “that’s all set. Now I just need a look at that ankle. Oh my, it’s swollen pretty bad. We’ll need to elevate it and you should really lay down.”

“I am pretty tired,” (Y/n) sighed wearily, pulling her kimono back up over her shoulders. “Could you help me up?”

“Of course!” Mitsuri eagerly replied, easily scooping (Y/n) up in her arms and standing to her full height.

(Y/n)’s hands scrambled for purchase on Mitsuri’s uniform from the sudden movement. Once she realized Mitsuri’s hold on her was solid and unwavering she relaxed a bit before pulling her hands back to her own chest and jerking her head outwards away from the pale expanse of the demon slayer’s chest. If at all possible, she was sure steam would roll out of her ears like active geysers.

Mitsuri didn’t notice anything amiss and took the few steps needed to lay (Y/n) down in the sad little bed. Then she paid careful attention to (Y/n)’s leg, tilting and rotating it while getting feedback from the girl.

“Well, I don’t think it’s broken, but you should definitely stay off of it for awhile.” Mitsuri informed, feeling anxious. “So you know anyone nearby? Someone that can assist you with your recovery?”

“I’ll be just fine, trust me.” (Y/n) had said.

“That um, didn’t really answer my question.” Mitsuri smiled a bit tightly as more worry settled in her heart. “Do you have family nearby, friends, close acquaintances?”

“If you must know,” (Y/n) weakly spat, “there isn’t anyone. I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for nearly two years now.” She finished bitterly.

Mitsuri flinched back at (Y/n)’s tone and the bedridden girl immediately felt bad. She was only trying to help after all. (Y/n) would have been dead without her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh.”

“It’s alright. You’ve had a hard night,” Mitsuri patted (Y/n)’s hand reassuringly. “I’ll just have to watch over you then.”

“Cawww!”

Mitsuri looked over her shoulder at her crow, flapping and comically sweating buckets from her uneasy perch on the windowsill.

“I can take care of myself,” (Y/n) voiced her stance once more, “besides, it looks like your work isn’t over yet. Take a couple loafs for the road as thanks. You’ll need to keep your strength up.”

“I couldn’t.” Mitsuri shook her head. The girl already had so little, it would be a crime to take advantage. She was already paid plenty as a Hashira, she could hold out for a few more hours.

“I insist. I make more than I know what to do with. Quite a bit gets thrown to the wildlife.”

“Well, if you’re sure...” Mitsuri’s resolve crumbled like loose gravel. She was hungry, and the bread smelled really, really good. If (Y/n) was going to insist, how could she say no? Then Mitsuri straightened as an idea formed in her mind. (Y/n) startled as Mitsuri loudly smacked her hands together.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, tomorrow before the sun sets!” Mitsuri said with conviction.

“What?” (Y/n) blinked, watching Mitsuri pack three loafs of bread into a rucksack before giving it back to her crow to fly off with.

“I’ll come by tomorrow to check on you.” Mitsuri said before taking a bite out of a fourth loaf of bread. “Mmm, this is so good!”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I have to get going now, but I’ll be back! Keep your weight off that ankle and don’t strain yourself!” Mitsuri called as she opened the front door.

“No, wait, Kanroji-san!”

But she was already gone, the door closed tightly behind her before she ran off headlong into the dangerous night.

“And she’s gone,” (Y/n) sighed, “just who is she anyway? She’s practically superhuman,” she covered her face in the crook of her good arm, “and she’s really pretty.”

***

By morning Mitsuri was halfway through her last loaf of bread and standing before the familiar sight of the Butterfly Estate. After seeing the state of (Y/n)’s medical supplies, Mitsuri thought it prudent to visit Shinobu and procure a kit for the girl.

“Mitsuri, hello.” Shinobu greeted upon looking up from her microscope. “What brings you here today?”

“Shinobu, you have to help me,” Mitsuri immediately started in, “I saved a girl last night and she got a roughed up a bit before I got to her. Can you help me make a medical kit for her?”

“Of course I’ll help you,” Shinobu smiled, “but I must ask, why not just take her to a civilian doctor? Surely they would be able to provide the help she may need.”

“She lives alone in the mountains. She seems to have a bad relationship with the village in the valley below, but I don’t know why.”

“Just be careful then,” Shinobu warned, “who knows, you might be dealing with a criminal.”

“No way!” Mitsuri gasped, waving the last couple bites of bread in front of Shinobu’s face, “Could a criminal make bread this good? I think not!”

“Please stay vigilant regardless,” Shinobu giggled before switching gears, “now, tell me what happened last night.”

Mitsuri explained the situation the best she could, detailing (Y/n)’s injuries and what supplies she had left. Shinobu helped her pack up a new med kit that would not only replenish (Y/n)’s supplies, but give her some other helpful medicines that she didn’t have initially. Mitsuri thanked Shinobu with a tight hug that forced her fellow Pillar to dangle in the air for a few moments before being lowered to the ground once more. Then she made her way off the property, running off into the woods. She had a lot of ground to cover before sunset.

After a few hours of travel Mitsuri was feeling peckish. She had unfortunately finished the last loaf of bread before leaving Shinobu’s estate and didn’t have time to replenish her snack sack that her crow carried for her. If she was lucky, maybe the festival she had stumbled upon last night was a multiple night event and she could stalk up once she checked on (Y/n).

With an excited hum, she practically flew up the mountain, making her way in the general direction she knew (Y/n)’s shack to be.

“Oh dear, was it a left at this boulder or a right?” Mitsuri mumbled to herself. The forest was more inviting in the evening light but it looked so different. Cautiously, she tried the left path and scoured her surroundings for anything that looked familiar.

Mitsuri had begun to grow a bit anxious, worried that she had taken a wrong turn. She took a deep breath through her nose to calm herself which was quickly followed by a few more testing scentings of the air. Something smelled delicious. She couldn’t be sure, but it was the best lead she had so far. She followed the hearty aroma and cheered to herself as the rundown, misshapen hut came into view.

The Hashira wasted no time hopping up to the door. She gave a courtesy knock and announced herself before letting herself inside. She smiled to herself as she imagined how happy (Y/n) would be to have such an arsenal of medicinal goods. That smile quickly became a shocked, open mouth of light horror upon seeing (Y/n) up and moving about her small home.

“Ah! I thought I told you not to put any weight on that ankle, you’ll hurt yourself!” Mitsuri worried. She quickly went up to (Y/n) with her arms out in front of her like (Y/n) would collapse at any moment.

“I couldn’t just lay in bed all day.” (Y/n) tried to reason. “You said you were coming back so I felt the need to make dinner for you. You know, to repay you for all you’re doing for me. A little ankle pain can hardly keep me down.”

Mitsuri was touched by the gesture, it made her heart flutter with appreciation, but (Y/n) needed to follow her instructions or who knows what long term damage she would cause herself.

“It smells wonderful, (L/n)-san and I thank you endlessly, but please, lay down right now!”

“I’ve been taking breaks. I’m fine—ah!“

Ah, swept off her feet by the strong and beautiful demon slayer once again. As embarrassing as being doted on in this manner was, (Y/n) was definitely going to revisit this tender care in her dreams. Gods, she was touch starved.

“Really (L/n)-san, don’t be difficult. Let me check on your shoulder, okay?” Mitsuri didn’t even sound strained as she slowly placed (Y/n) down on the futon.

“Oh, okay.” (Y/n) fought through the fuzzy tingles, shaking them from her body as she slid her sleeve off her shoulder.

“Aw, it looks a little infected,” Mitsuri whined as she softly prodded the tender flesh, “but don’t worry! I paid a visit to a dear friend today and I’ve got everything you’ll need!”

“Kanroji-san, this is too much.” (Y/n) gaped in awe at the tightly packed tin Mitsuri presented to her.

“Not at all! Now, hold still while I apply some of this cream.” Mitsuri beamed before swirling the cool salve over the cuts. (Y/n) flinched a bit but the numbing chill soon soothed the pain.

“Wow, that feels really nice.”

“Right? I can always trust Shinobu for the best!” Mitsuri proudly proclaimed as she finished re-wrapping (Y/n)’s shoulder. She then took care of (Y/n)’s ankle the way Shinobu had suggested and looked at her handiwork with pride. “There all done! Shinobu said you’ll want to keep it elevated and free of strain for at least two weeks.”

“Okay, I’ll rest where I can. Thank you.”

“No no,” Mitsuri made an ‘x’ with her arms and pouted, “none of that, you have to rest!”

“I can’t afford to rest. It’s not easy living in the mountains alone.” (Y/n) informed, her eyes shifted over Mitsuri’s shoulder at the burning embers in her ‘kitchen’, “Could you take that off the heat please?”

“Yeah, I can do that.” Mitsuri shot up and stole to the dingy pot, her eyes shined upon witnessing the rich, golden broth up close. “Wow, this looks amazing!”

“I’m glad you think so, the mountains are harsh but there are plenty of resources if you know where to look. Please, help yourself.”

“Thank you so much! Here, let me get you a bowl as well. Food always tastes better with company after all.”

Mitsuri tried to prepare another bowl for (Y/n) but quickly discovered she only had one. It seemed like the more she looked at the place, the sadder it made her. (Y/n) seemed to notice the sudden downtick in the slayer’s mood and spoke up.

“Hey, I’ve got a tea mug I’ll happily drink from if you don’t mind my bad manners.” She laughed, provoking a smile from Mitsuri.

“Of course I don’t mind.”

They ate the broth and fresh bread together as they made small talk and Mitsuri was having a great time. It was rare to get to know someone she rescued like this and being able to see (Y/n) while the sun had not yet fully disappeared she got an opportunity to have a really good look at her.

Mitsuri’s face heated as (Y/n) laughed at something she said and she silently praised the forces at hand that allowed her to make it to her in time. It felt good, so very rewarding, to know such a beautiful soul’s time was not cut short by a cruel end. She wanted to keep it that way.

“Something on your mind, Kanroji-san?” (Y/n) asked, breaking Mitsuri from her thoughts with a start.

“Oh! I, um, I was just thinking about how good your food is! You know, the village down below was having a festival yesterday. I bet you could sell a lot of what you make really quickly if you set up a stall there.” Mitsuri exclaimed before diving back in.

(Y/n)’s face soured a bit at the thought, though she sighed wistfully and a sad smile crossed her lips.

“That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” She said before taking another sip from her chipped cup.

“Why don’t you go down to the village, (L/n)-san?” Mitsuri asked, her pastel-green eyes gazed at (Y/n)’s downcast face.

(Y/n) stayed silent for a few moments, debating with herself if it was worth delving into her strife with a girl she had only just met the night before and probably wouldn’t see again. At least, she definitely wouldn’t see her again if she were to explain her situation.

“It’s not something I’d really care to discuss. Sorry.” (Y/n) curtly replied.

“No, I’m sorry,” Mitsuri frowned, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine. It was an innocent question.” (Y/n) assured, giving Mitsuri’s knee a friendly pat before withdrawing once more.

They continued to talk about anything until the sun disappeared and the stars lit up the night sky and the lanterns were lit to illuminate the hut.

Mitsuri needed to go. The Hashira was reluctant but she wasn’t going to leave (Y/n) completely on her own just yet. She told the mountain dweller she’d come back to check on her in three days time, giggling at the girl’s surprise at the declaration. Mitsuri reasoned that (Y/n) would still need help while she recovered and although she was busy with her duties, she couldn’t in good conscious leave (Y/n) completely on her own. Especially when the girl had a tendency to skip out of much needed rest.

Mitsuri filled her rucksack to her heart’s with (Y/n)’s blessing and set off into the night. She hoped to see improvements in (Y/n)’s health when she returned in a few days.

***

The next visit went well. Mitsuri still had to scold (Y/n) for moving about, but she still, albeit a bit guiltily, heartily ate the meals (Y/n) would prepare for her upon her arrival.

Even after (Y/n) had completely healed, Mitsuri didn’t stop visiting. (Y/n) would always laugh when Mitsuri would show up unannounced, joking that feeding Mitsuri was like feeding a stray cat, she’d always come back for more. (Y/n) was happy for the company though. Very happy.

Mitsuri would also bring little things to make (Y/n)’s shack more bearable, starting with an extra set of dishes so they could properly enjoy a meal together. Before long, they considered themselves close enough to be real friends.

One night Mitsuri came by so late, she had awoken (Y/n) when she knocked on the door. (Y/n) let her in and Mitsuri nearly toppled them both over in her exhaustion.

“Hi,” Mitsuri whispered both shyly and with great exhaustion, “sorry for coming by so late. It’s just been a really long night and I think I’m about to crash any minute now. You were the closest to where I was so...”

“You know better than to think you ever need have an excuse to stop by.” (Y/n) lightly scolded. “Come lay down, are you hungry?” She asked, laying the Hashira down on the new futon that Mitsuri had brought for (Y/n) a couple visits prior.

“I could never say no to anything you make.” Mitsuri smiled, causing a prickly heat to swirl over (Y/n)’s cheeks.

(Y/n) heated up her leftovers and presented them to Mitsuri who ate them with the same vigor she would have if it was fresh.

“So good,” she sighed happily, “really, if this is what you can make in this little hut, I would die of happiness to see what you could do in a proper kitchen.”

“You flatter me, Mitsuri.” (Y/n) smiled shyly. It still gave her butterflies to speak to the demon slayer so familiarly, but it was a good feeling.

“I’m serious, (Y/n)!” Mitsuri swore, “I still maintain that I think you would do very well in the village.”

(Y/n) pursed her lips, which Mitsuri noticed straight away and mirrored before fidgeting with the now empty bowl in her hands.

“Are you ready to talk about that yet? It’s alright if you aren’t.” She hesitantly asked.

(Y/n) would be lying to herself if she thought she wasn’t nervous at the prospect of telling Mitsuri her history with the village, but she found herself wanting to share that part of her story with the sweet woman. Mitsuri had never done anything to hurt her, but that’s what made the aspect of sharing so much more frightening. What if Mitsuri became disgusted with her? Accused her of befriending her with alternative motives? But when (Y/n) met her eyes those doubts quieted and she took a deep shutters breath before blowing it all back out in one harsh breath.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to listen? It might be better if you sleep for the night first.”

Mitsuri seemed more alert already, sitting up fully in the bed and giving (Y/n) her full, undivided attention. “No, I can listen! I want to be able to understand you better and support you in anyway I can! Tell me whatever you are comfortable sharing.”

“Okay,” (Y/n) took another breath, taking a moment to decide how to proceed.

“I was born and raised in that valley, actually. My family owns an inn that doubles as a restaurant to boot.”

“That explains a lot.” Mitsuri commented with a small smile, patting at her full stomach. That earned a chuckle and a nod from (Y/n) before she continued.

“Yeah, my mom started teaching me almost as soon as I could stand on my own. She was strict, but with food that good, she was entitled to that attitude. My father took care of the inn side of things and when he wasn’t doing that, he was drinking his weight in saké.” (Y/n) took note of Mitsuri’s concern and patted her hand while flashing her a reassuring half smile.

“It wasn’t ideal, but that was just life. Incredibly, the business didn’t suffer and he never treated us badly so we saw no need to address it. I didn’t know of any other way of life so I was content where I was. Until...”

“Until what, (Y/n)?” Mitsuri cocked her head to the side.

“Until my parents arranged a marriage for me to be wed to the blacksmith’s son. The union would have brought a large sum of money to my family. The whole village seemed to know about it before I did.” (Y/n) chuckled humorlessly and shook her head while Mitsuri listened, holding herself back from jumping in to ask questions.

“They would talk over me about what I’d wear, who would be invited, even as far as when I should bare a child. I felt like everything I thought I knew was crumbling around me. I hadn’t even talked to the blacksmith’s son before. Even now I don’t recall his name. All I knew was that the idea of marrying him terrified me.”

“Did you tell your parents this?” Mitsuri couldn’t help but blurt, her eyebrows had upturned and creased her forehead.

“Yes,” (Y/n)’s eyes shadowed over as she peered down at her lap, “I admit, the middle of town wasn’t the best place to air my reservations, but they wouldn’t listen to me. They would tell me it was just cold feet or that I was overreacting. Then I had finally had it, and two days before the wedding, I screamed at my mother that I didn’t want to be married to some boy I had never talked to and made a big scene.

She had said then, since I was making such a fuss, that I must have been handing myself out to some other boy while her back was turned and it just made me so mad. I told her there was no other boy, that I didn’t want one.” (Y/n) sighed and pressed her head back against the wall.

“I told her that the only people that I had ever thought of marrying were either the grocer’s eldest daughter or the seamstress’ apprentice who had helped me at my fitting the day prior and then my mother slapped me in front of the whole village.”

Mitsuri gasped, covering her mouth. She was no stranger to the disappointment of a parent, but her parents had never laid a hand on her for any of her failed engagements.

“She was disgusted with me and word traveled fast. The blacksmith called off the arrangement, not wanting his son to have anything to do with my... perversions I think he called them. The grocer refused to sell his produce to my family and kept his daughters inside.

My father, once greatly respected, was humiliated by me and shunned by the whole village. He was furious and drunk which made for a very bad combination as you may imagine. I was severely... disciplined and locked away.

Later that night, I could hear him and my mother discussing selling me to a brothel to be trained as a courtesan. Needless to say, once I believed they were asleep I tore through the paper wall of the room I was trapped in and packed up what I could carry before I escaped into the mountains. I’ve been surviving here ever since.”

As (Y/n) finished her story, Mitsuri sniffed loudly and hiccuped, startling (Y/n) from her memories to try to comfort the demon slayer as she cried for her. Mitsuri pulled (Y/n) into her chest with such ferocity that it cracked the poor girl’s spine.

“I’m sorry that happened to you. You didn’t deserve such treatment!” The Hashira blubbered. “It was awful of me to ever suggest you go back to that terrible place devoid of love and compassion.”

(Y/n) struggled to breath and patted Mitsuri’s back. “Don’t be hard on yourself, you didn’t know. It’s okay.”

Getting all of that out there, having someone to listen and not judge her for her tale, it made (Y/n) feel so much lighter. Mitsuri kept her close and rocked their bodies side to side and how was (Y/n) not going to cry when she hadn’t been treated so tenderly since she was little. Before long, they were both sobbing messes in the corner of a dingy shack in the middle of the mountains.

By the time their bout had subsided into the occasional sniffle or the loud, gross honk of mucus being sucked back up someone’s nose, the girls had migrated to spooning on the futon with one of Mitsuri’s arms wrapped securely over (Y/n)’s side while the the other alternated between lightly scratching at the nape of (Y/n)’s neck and between her shoulder blades. The fit on the futon was tight, but neither seemed to mind.

“You know,” (Y/n) sighed, “the night you saved me I was out because there is a cliff that you can see the whole village from. I knew the festival lights would be up and I really wanted to feel the warmth I used to feel at festival season. Figures I’d be attacked by a demon before I even got there.”

“You’re going to make me cry again.” Mitsuri said, her voice coming out a tad nasally because of her stuffy nose.

“I didn’t mean for that to make you sad. I was just going to say I was glad for that night for nothing else other than I got to meet you. Thank you for sticking around, Mitsuri.”

“Now you’re being so sweet I’m gonna cry again!” Mitsuri sniffled, weakly batting at (Y/n) and making her laugh as she apologized.

“I’m glad I met you too,” Mitsuri whispered softly once they calmed down again. Then they finally went to sleep as the sun was rising.

***

“I just— mm! I don’t want her living in that rundown shack anymore. I never did! But now, I think about it all the time and I just can't stand it!” Mitsuri complained to Shinobu as the Insect Pillar tried to concentrate on the medicines she was measuring out.

“I see.” Shinobu answered simply, making a note before giving Mitsuri her full attention, “Well, if she’s as good of a cook as you keep telling me, I’m sure Aoi would be happy for another pair of hands in the kitchens.”

“What?” Mitsuri blinked.

“You know me, Mitsuri. I have a history of taking in young girls who have nowhere to go. I assume that’s why you have been telling me all of this.” Shinobu smiled mischievously, “besides, you make her sound so cute, how could I say no?”

That got a rise out of the Love Hashira.

“You—! You already have a girlfriend!” Mitsuri sputtered her face as pink as her hair at the possibility of Shinobu trying to woo (Y/n). Worse yet, the very real possibility that it would work! Mitsuri knew just how charming Shinobu could be! But thankfully, Shinobu laughed and diffused the state Mitsuri had worked herself into.

“I was only teasing, but she really can live here. I have plenty of room. I just figured you would want to keep her closer. I didn’t realize your estate was operating at full capacity.”

“Wait, say that again.” Mitsuri said, the wheels in her head turning as she tried to work backwards herself.

“(L/n)-san can live here?” Shinobu tried.

“No, after that.”

“I didn’t realize your own estate was running at full capacity. I thought you would want (L/n)-san to live with you.” Shinobu reiterated.

“Ah!” Mitsuri shrieked, making Shinobu wince ever so slightly. Then Mitsuri roughly grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her around a little bit, “You, Kochou Shinobu, are a genius! I can’t believe I hadn’t realized sooner! Thanks for the talk, bye!”

“Take care!” Shinobu saw Mitsuri off, fixing her tousled fringe as she watched the blur of pink, green and white run out of sight around the corner. Deciding she was due for a break, she wandered down the opposite end of the hall to find out what her girlfriend was up to at the moment.

***

By now, Mitsuri knew the mountain like she knew the back for her hand. The delicious scent of sizzling vegetables and meats never hurt either of course. She didn’t even bother to knock before letting herself in.

“I had a feeling you’d come by today.” (Y/n) smiled as she checked over her shoulder, “I’m not sure what it was, but I’m glad it proved true because I definitely made too much food.”

“(Y/n), live with me.” Mitsuri blurted before shyly hiding her face in her hands. How could she ask that so suddenly? Never mind ask, she definitely didn’t even phrase it as a question!

“Huh?” Was all (Y/n) could get out before she forgot how her voice worked.

“Would, would you maybe, possibly consider maybe living with me?” Mitsuri tried again, her voice raised almost to the point of cracking with every word.

“...I wouldn’t want to impose.” (Y/n) nervously replied after a few moments, busying herself by stirring a pot that was in no need of attention.

“You wouldn’t be!” Mitsuri said with more conviction. “I really want you to come with me. I know you are proud of what you have managed to do for yourself, it’s better than anything I could ever make, but the more time passes, I can’t help but hate how you still live in this rundown, rickety, shack that I can clear in four strides!” Mitsuri demonstrated her point by walking from one wall to the other before turning back to (Y/n) with pleading eyes.

“Please, come live with me. I love you and you deserve more than this.”

“La, la, lalala, lov, love... love me?” (Y/n) quickly turned back to her cooking as the fire cracked so loud it made her jump. Why was she acting like this? Mitsuri loved a lot of people, she obviously meant a friendly, platonic kind of love and now she had just made it even more awkward!

But then (Y/n) jolted again when Mitsuri’s strong arms wrapped around her middle and her chin rested against her shoulder. The Hashira hummed an affirmative as she slowly began to rock them side to side. Between the heat of the low fire and the heat of Mitsuri’s front pressed against her back, (Y/n) was sure she was going to pass out.

“Please (Y/n), live with me?” Mitsuri asked softly. She kissed (Y/n)’s jaw as she moved.

“?!??!!” (Y/n) short circuited, lost in Mitsuri’s softness. Mitsuri merely giggled and rested another to (Y/n)’s cheek, then her ear, her temple, until—

“Oh dear!” Mitsuri gasped as (Y/n) fell limp in her arms. “(Y/n), are you alright? Are you sick? Why didn’t you say something? You shouldn’t be up!”

“I, I’m not sick,” (Y/n) mumbled, smoke rolling off of her like a steam boat, “It’s just a lot of touching that I’m not really used to yet.”

“Oh! Should I stop?”

“Gods no.” (Y/n) sighed and gripped onto Mitsuri’s haori so she couldn’t back away.

Mitsuri beamed brightly before resting a kiss over (Y/n)’s forehead and rubbed her back. “Come with me?” She asked again.

“I’d follow you to the bottom of the ocean if you asked.” (Y/n)’s eyes slipped shut as she enjoyed Mitsuri’s scattered kisses.

“Great! I can’t wait for you to meet all my friends! Iguro-san and Kabumaru will love you, Kyoujirou-san too! He’ll love your cooking. Just watch out for Shinobu though, she’s flirty.”

“Okay, I’ll stay vigilant.” (Y/n) laughed.

“Good girl,” Mitsuri nodded, “now let’s pack up all that you hold dear. We should be able to make it to my estate by dinner.”

“Yes, ma’am.” (Y/n) nodded excitedly in return. She took the little pail of water from the floor and doused the low flame, “maybe you’d like lunch first though? I’d hate for it to go to waste.”

“Yes! Lunch first and then the beginning of the rest of our lives!” Mitsuri amended, skipping over to the meal (Y/n) had prepared.

As they are together (Y/n) couldn’t help but grin. Mitsuri was right, food really did taste better when sharing it with people you love. The kisses and nuzzles throughout the meal didn’t hurt either.

#demon slayer x reader #demon slayer oneshots #kny oneshots #kny x reader #mitsuri kanroji #mitsuri kanroji x reader #mitsuri x reader

212 notes · View notes

bestiesenpai · 3 years

Text

youtuber Sukuna pt2

I wonder what things will happen in this part? I hope there's sparknotes, I don’t feel like reading all these words…

Content warning: *more* mean internet comments, Sukuna doxxing ppl(idk if that needs a warning?? But just in case)

part 1 --- part 3

Being a Youtuber was a lot more work than Sukuna thought it was. When he’d picked you up early in the morning, he wasn’t expecting you to come out with such a fancy camera and microphone. You looked cute as all hell too, hair styled nicely and your outfit was perfect for a day at a countryside cafe.

“Thanks for driving!” You said, climbing into his car and smiling at him. Sukuna could smell your perfume as it wafted off your body and he immediately felt the urge to buy a bottle as well and spray his pillow with it.

“S’no problem.” He muttered, driving off as soon as you were secure. He’d looked up the place beforehand, reading their menu over and over so he’d know what to order. Slowing down at a red light, he glanced over at you taking pictures.

He wished he could ask you to send them to him so he could save them in the never ending folder he had, but he couldn’t. It would be weird, you weren’t exactly close, and it’s not like you shared any pictures anyway.

“Hey Sukuna, what’s my contact photo on your phone?” The question came out of nowhere and he looked at you in confusion.

“Contact photo? You don’t have one.”

“What, really? I’ll send you a picture then! And add a few cute emojis with my name.” Well, that was easy. He wasn’t expecting you to offer to send him a picture, but he wasn’t going to decline it.

“Okay, I will.” Turning his attention back on the road, Sukuna turned the radio on to fill the silence. “Should I...send you a picture of me?” He had the perfect picture in mind to send you, it was a thirst trap he’d snapped post-shower after a really good day at the gym. A towel hung low on his hips and he still had a few droplets of water on his skin and dripping down from his hair.

“Yes!”

The drive to the cafe was quick and easy, not a lot of traffic early in the morning. The sun was just beginning to settle in the sky and the dew on the grass was fading. The cafe you’d chosen was in a small countryside town, barley fields just a few yards away and farmers with their dogs walking by.

“This the place?” Sukuna asked, pulling into the small parking lot in confusion.

“Yup! I’m so excited!” Hopping out of the car, your camera was immediately put to work filming the surrounding area. It was peacefully silent all around you, the only sound the occasional breeze or dog barking in the distance.

Panning the camera to yourself, you took a quick couple breaths and babbled a few times before speaking properly.

“Hi everyone, as you can see we’re in a different place today! Me and Sukuna are at a cafe in the countryside that I saw online and fell in love with. Say hi Sukuna!”

“Hi.” He was standing at the edge of the lot where a field of wispy tall purple grass started. He waved dumbly, feeling like a dumb kid taken to Disneyworld.

“This is the name of the cafe…” Turning your attention elsewhere, you filmed the rest of your intro. Once again, Sukuna was amazed at the proficiency at which you did things and how smoothly he knew the shots would look.

Looking at the cafe on the outside, it didn’t look like anything special. It was a wooden and concrete building with two large windows. He could see the minimalist decor and furniture inside was wooden as well, probably handcrafted by someone in the town.

“All finished, let’s go in.” Waving him on, Sukuna jogged to be the first to the door to open it for you. Filming as you walked in, when Sukuna entered, he still didn’t understand the hype you’d placed around it.

The air smelt like a strong tea and the humidity was definitely higher. He was right in thinking that all the furniture was handcrafted, all the chairs and tables had a rough quality to them only achievable with a human touch.

“Look, this is what I came here for!” You were standing right at the dessert case, pointing your camera at whatever you were looking at.

“Why is it...?” Sukuna looked at it in confusion. There was an airbrushed cake shaped exactly like the peach emoji sitting in the case with a realistic leaf and stem as well and you looked inexplicably happy over it.

“The owner makes these cakes herself, and she’s doing a cute emoji series!” Bouncing on your heels, you tugged on his sleeve. “I’m totally getting a slice, what’re you getting?” Suddenly, the research he’d done the night prior meant nothing as he looked at the cake.

“I have no idea.”

“You’ve got time to think about it, I’m gonna ask the owner a few questions for the video.” Leaving him at the case, Sukuna saw you go up to the owner waiting at the counter from the corner of his eye. Since the two of you were the only ones here, he could hear your excited voice gushing about the cakes and decor.

Fifteen minutes later, you and Sukuna were seated right in the corner of the cafe, where the two windows intersected on the building. Not one for sweets, Sukuna got a plain poppyseed muffin and a hot tea; the cafe didn’t serve coffee.

Setting up the camera on the table next to you, you took a bite of your cake and loved it, immediately singing its praises to the camera. Sukuna ate as well, trying not to be too stiff as you spoke.

“Sukuna, you should try this too!” Holding up your fork filled with cake, you held it out to him.

“Hm, okay.” Grabbing your hand as well, he expected you to let go of the fork. But as he guided it to his mouth, you didn’t, and you were staring right at him as it went into his mouth. “Why ya staring?” He mumbled, feeling his ears burn.

“I need to know if you like it.” Sukuna didn’t let go of your hand as he chewed and you didn’t make a move to remove it either. You were too focused on his reaction to care, waiting on the edge of your seat for him to say something.

“It’s a peach flavored cake.” He nodded, snorting when you motioned him to say more. “It’s too sweet for me, but if you like it then I like it.”

“Good enough for me!” Finally you pulled away from him and put the fork down, turning to the camera and pointing in his direction. “Can you believe Sukuna doesn’t like sweets? He’s like an old man, he only got a muffin.”

“Please, could an old man deadlift almost 300lbs?” Sukuna scoffed, slapping his chest and flexing his arm.

“That’s so much! You have to train me some day Sukuna, I wanna lift that much!” Your shocked face made Sukuna smirk and he flexed the other arm as well. Your wide eyes got even wider, bouncing between both his arms.

“Anytime, (Y/N).” Sukuna felt confident enough to wink at you, and he saw the way your face faltered at it. Ducking your head away, you pretended to fiddle with the camera, the tips of your fingers shaking slightly.

It was afternoon by the time you finished in the cafe, walking out into the warmth of the sun. Looking out, all the land surrounding the cafe was flat, covered in fields of barley or tall grasses.

“Hey Sukuna…” There you were, touching the purple grass with your fingers.

“What?”

“Will you take a few pictures for me? For Instagram?”

“I don’t think I’ll be any good.” Sukuna barely knew how to take pictures of himself let alone another person.

“That’s okay, just try your best!” Putting another camera in his hand, you grabbed his wrist and tugged him to join you deeper in the field. “That camera is pretty simple, just point and click.”

“Alright.” Holding it up, he immediately snapped a picture of you.

“Wait for me to pose!” You laughed. Sukuna chuckled as well, and when you were ready, he took the pictures. He took as many as he could, clicking the button over and over.

“Take a look.” Twenty minutes later he was handing the camera back at you. Looking through the pictures, you instantly burst into laughter.

“Sukuna, why’d you take a picture of the sun? My head is in the corner, it looks like a toe!”

“I told you it’d be bad!” He couldn’t help but laugh as well. You really did look like a toe in the corner of the screen.

“Oh my god, I’m taking you to a photography class, some of these are too much.” Giggling your way through the rest of the pictures, you put the camera back in his hand. “Let’s take a couple together!”

Sukunas heart leapt for joy. He would be able to take a picture with you. It felt like he was a fan of yours and not someone you knew on a personal level.

“You’re gonna hold the camera, your arms are longer.” Flipping the viewfinder up, you slided up to Sukunas side. He muttered something unintelligible, too busy looking at the two of you together. He could almost imagine you were a couple.

“Sukuna, hold the camera like this.” His hand had gone limp, casting a bad angle on the two of you.

“Don’t face that way, the light will make you look bad.” In one of the pictures, you’d changed poses.

“I know you only take serious gym pictures but smile for this one!” His face had dropped down to a scowl, his normal resting face. After who knows how long, he was finally free from taking pictures.

Wandering back to the car, it was silent as the both of you settled in. You were busy looking over the photos and Sukuna was busy watching you from the corner of his eye.

“Anything else you wanna do here?” He asked after a while of pretending to look on Twitter.

“Mmmm, we can drive around some more! I don’t really know what else is out here.”

Sukuna drove you through the countryside town, marvelling at the farmers and all their animals. You stopped to get a couple handmade candies from an old man, and Sukuna made sure to pick up some food that wasn’t just sweets for you. Eating at a small restaurant, when you hit the road again it was nearly evening.

Driving back in near silence, somewhere along the way you fell asleep. Your head rested against the window, jostled a few times by the road or a turn. Sukuna couldn’t help but look at you any chance he could, and although he felt like a major creep, he couldn’t stop himself from taking a picture of you.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding.” Sukuna groaned as he got closer to the city, coming upon a wall of traffic. Far ahead up the road there was an accident that wasn’t going to be cleared away anytime soon.

“What’s up?” You asked with a loud yawn, stretching out your arms and legs as best you could.

“Traffic.” Leaning his head out the window, he let out another groan. “Might as well put the fucking car in park.” Shifting the gear and sinking low into his seat, Sukuna sighed. It’s not that he hated traffic, but he wanted every moment of this outing to be perfect, and this was seriously hindering it.

“Do you want me to send you some of the pictures we took together for your Instagram as well?”

“Yeah, send ‘em over.” At least Sukuna could stare at the two of you together to pass the time. The amount of pictures you sent him was seemingly endless and included a few he didn’t know you’d taken of him eating and looking out the window.

“How long do you think we’ll be here?” You whined, kicking your feet out in boredom.

“At least an hour.”

It was quiet for a few minutes, the sound of the radio and other cars around you filling the background. Sukuna could see you fiddling with your phone, opening and closing apps. He could see you getting antsy.

“I’m already so bored.” There it was. Your pitiful whine accentuated with your head pushed back. Sukunas fingers itched to reach out and squeeze your cheek, it was glowing from the sun. “I think I’m gonna get on Instagram live or something so I can complain more.”

Laughing at your honesty, as soon as you went live Sukuna got the notification on his phone. Your head was tilted away from him, only your side of the car showed. Waving at the camera a few times, you smiled really big.

“Hi everyone! I’m stuck in traffic!” Your eyes flicked across the screen, reading the many comments coming in. “Hm, what do you mean who’s car am I in? I bought this car!”

“Liar.” Sukuna mumbled with a cheeky grin getting bigger when you tried to hide your own chuckle.

“I swear I bought this car!” You couldn’t keep the lie going, and broke down in giggles the more Sukuna looked at you. “Alright, I’m in Sukunas car.” Panning the phone out, he saw himself on screen.

“Hi.” He waved, reading the comments asking if you were on a date. “Don’t you remember from the last live? We aren’t on a date we’re filming some fucking vlog.”

“It’ll be up soon! You’ll all really enjoy it, Sukuna was a great guest.”

“The best.” He nodded along. You responded to a few more comments, but there were some that kept coming up.

‘(Y/N) kiss Sukuna’

“Stop spamming that fucking message like a weirdo.” Sukuna finally snapped. You had done a great job at ignoring the comment, but it was all Sukuna could see on the screen. “You’re gross to ask us to do that.” But Sukuna did wish he could kiss you. Ever since the first comment came through, he’d taken glances at your lips as you spoke.

“Oof, don’t make Sukuna mad, he’ll kill you.” You teased, and your hand went out to squeeze his arm. “He said he can deadlift almost 300lbs, so watch out.”

“That’s fucking right.” Flexing his arm proudly, Sukuna nearly put it around your shoulder, faltering at the last minute and landing on the center console with a thud.

‘It would be kind of cute to see them kiss…’

‘I bet Sukuna can’t even hug (Y/N)’

‘I bet after today they’ll come out and say they’re dating!’

Now all the comments were talking about the two of you dating, and how cute it would be if you really were. Biting his lip, Sukuna watched your reaction closely. Truly he had no problem with the comments, he wanted them to be true as well, but if you were uncomfortable he was ready to put everyone in their place.

“Gosh you guys ship us so hard.” You seemed okay with it, your face wasn’t tense and you were still making eye contact with Sukuna. “Are you going to subscribe to my channel if I kiss him?”

“What?” Sukunas eyes widened and the comments poured in promising life long dedication to you if you went through with it.

“Alright.” Setting your phone up on the dashboard, you turned to Sukuna. “I’ll be quick, okay?”

“What?” He parroted. His hands were getting clammy just thinking about it and the look in your eyes wasn’t helping. With a nervous lick of his lips Sukuna leant forward and had just begun to pucker his mouth when you loudly kissed your palm and pressed it to his cheek.

“There! I kissed Sukuna!” With a big grin on your face you kissed your hand again and put it on him. “I did it twice! Now go subscribe!”

“What the hell.” Sukuna mumbled to himself, feeling like an idiot for thinking you’d really kiss him. He spent the next fifteen minutes in a stupor, vaguely replying to comments and trying to get over the embarrassment he felt.

Dropping you off nearly an hour past the original time, when Sukuna got home he buried his face into his pillow and let out a short yell. The biting shame he felt at almost making himself a fool in front of thousands of people was still fresh. He knew there’d be fancams of the moment just waiting for him. A buzzing on his phone pulled him out of his thoughts.

(Y/N): you need to send me a picture for your contact photo!

That’s right, the picture. Sukuna didn’t even need to scroll that far to find it, it was in his favorites. Sending it to you without a second thought, he didn’t even have the mind to check your reaction. Leaving his phone on the bed, he rushed to the shower to cool off.

When he returned, there were a flurry of messages from you waiting to be read. Most of them were unreadable keyboard smashes and a few emojis.

(Y/N): SUKUNA!

(Y/N): you can’t just send me a picture like that!!

(Sukuna): why?

(Y/N): you know why!

He could practically hear your flustered little whine.

(Sukuna): enlighten me please

(Y/N): SWSGMLU

(Y/N): you’re such a bully!!

(Sukuna): haha sounds like someone's embarrassed

It was a long few minutes before you replied and Sukuna could see the typing bubbles appear and reappear several times.

(Y/N): I’M GOING TO BED

(Sukuna): you that tired? it’s only 9pm

(Y/N): YES GOODNIGHT

(Y/N): BYE BULLY

(Sukuna): lol goodnight then

In a week, the vlog was up and Sukuna made his debut into the world. He rewatched it several times over, in awe of how well you’d captured the countryside and translated it to video. He even screen recorded some parts, like when he was flexing for you, just to replay your reaction over and over.

In the weeks following, Sukuna watched your channel grow exponentially. Your number of subscribers wasn’t small, but it was nowhere near his, yet you made the leap to over a million and a half practically overnight. And with that new success, came a lot of pressure.

You’d recently taken up streaming, and Sukuna was at every single one. He had made a Twitch account just to watch you and he subscribed immediately, blushing when you read out his name and personally thanked him in a text a few minutes later.

Entering your stream as soon as it started, Sukuna was ready to sit and watch you do whatever. Usually, you played a game like the Sims, but sometimes you’d cook or put makeup on for a stream.

But this time was different. When your face appeared on the screen, you looked down. Almost as if you’d been fighting back tears. Immediately, Sukuna grabbed his phone, ready to call you and ask what was happening.

“Hey guys.” He could hear it in your voice that you were sad. It warbled and broke, and you sniffled a few times.

‘(Y/N) why’re you crying??’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Did something happen? You can tell us, we’re here for you’

“No, don’t worry everyone it’s just…” A stray tear fell down your cheek and you wiped it away with a shaking hand. “I-I- just-” You quickly broke down crying, turning your chair completely away from the screen.

Sukuna was swiftly dialing your number. He had no idea what was wrong, you hadn’t told him anything was wrong, but he needed to know. He was prepared to go to your house if you needed him to.

“I’m okay, I promise.” Feverishly wiping your tears, you turned back to the camera. Taking several deep breaths, you didn’t look at the camera as you spoke. “I’ve just been getting a lot of hate comments recently and you know I always ignore it but-” Your voice caught, and Sukuna was glued to the screen. “It’s just been a lot honestly.”

‘(Y/N) WE LOVE YOU’

‘PLEASE DON’T CRY WE’RE HERE FOR YOU’

‘I bet it’s all of Sukunas fans, they’re so fucking gross’

‘Totally Sukuna fans, all the real fans love (Y/N) and would never do this’

“N-no, don’t blame Sukuna! He can’t control what people say!” It was totally his fans and he fucking knew it. His call had gone unanswered two times, but on the third time you answered. “Hello?”

“Put me on speaker.”

“But-”

“Put me on speaker!” He demanded. Sukunas blood was boiling, rage rolling over him in waves.

“Sukuna’s calling, I guess he has something to say.” Holding the phone close to the microphone, you kept wiping away tears.

“Listen here you insignificant dirtbags, stop leaving shitty little hate comments on (Y/N)s stuff. You’re all fucking piss poor losers who can’t even wipe your own asses, probably jerking each other off in a pathetic circle. Go get a fucking job, worthless pieces of shit. Don’t think this is something you can get away with either, I’m going to make sure you fucking regret the day you were born.” His voice was dripping with so much malice it scared you. While Sukuna was used to talking like this, you’d never heard it in person and you could tell he meant every word.

“Thanks Sukuna, but you don’t have to-”

“Tell me who they are. Where’d they leave the comments?” Angrily setting up a shitty webcam he had, Sukuna was preparing to do a livestream himself.

“I don’t know…”

“(Y/N).” Taking a pause, he stared at the screen. You were worrying your lip as you stared at your phone while the comments begged for you to tell him.

“Alright. Most of them are under the vlog we did together, and there’s a lot under my most recent Instagram pictures.”

“The ones with us together too?”

“Yeah, those are the worst ones.”

“Keep me on the line.” Sukuna had never been this angry in his life before and it showed in his actions. He was slamming things down in a rush to set up his stream and letting out frustrated noises in the back of his throat.

“Sukuna, what’re you doing?” You’d gotten your emotions under control enough to stop crying, your glassy eyes shining in the light of your room.

“I’m setting up my own stream.” Just as he spoke, his face appeared on the screen and he was live. “Tell everyone to send me screenshots of the hate comments, I’m going to teach these assholes a lesson.”

“I think they heard you.” Indeed they had. The phone was still close to the microphone, and now there were comments pouring in telling Sukuna they’d send links through his stream.

Clicking on almost all of the ones that popped up, his screen was bombarded with pictures of people leaving hateful comments on your posts. Many were saying that you didn’t deserve to be alive, to be so close to Sukuna, and many called you ugly or other mean names.

“Let’s see what this fucker looks like.” Going to one of the profiles on Twitter, Sukuna nearly spat on his screen looking at it. “This ugly sack of shit wants to leave some mean comments? Well it’s your lucky day bitch, you’re the first one to go.” It took Sukuna all of five minutes to find the person's Facebook account where they posted more personal information.

“Oh, that’s a pretty high brow uni you’re going to! It would really be a shame if I sent an email to the dean.” Sukuna said mockingly, already typing up a long email. “You’re not gonna be studying to be a doctor any fucking more. Have fun digging ditches bitch.”

Sukuna’s stream easily went from 200 viewers to nearly 40,000 just in the time it took him to dox the first person. The next one was even easier, and it snowballed from there. Sukuna had no qualms about sharing this personal information, from their addresses to their personal phone numbers to where they worked.

“You really don’t have to do all this.” You kept saying over the phone. You’d ended your own stream to calm down, but you didn’t hang up the phone.

“Yes I do.” Sukuna replied instantly. “People have no respect for others, it’s fucking gross. If they think they can get away with this they’re idiots.” So many comments were egging him on as well, with a lot of people promising to harass everyone exposed until they apologized. “I hope every single one of them loses everything.”

“Sukuna…” With a sigh, you sat back and watched him do it. There wasn't anything you could say to stop him, he was on a warpath and intent on causing harm. Eventually, you had to hang up the call as it got well into the night and he was still going.

“Keep sending the fucking links, I can do this all night.” Sukuna repeated several times, fighting off sleep. His eyes burned from staring at the screen for so long and his back had begun to ache but he wasn’t about to stop now. There were still so many people that had to pay.

After nearly eight hours of streaming himself doxing people, he finally stopped after his channel got banned. His manager had emailed as soon as the sun rose, frantically screaming at him to stop what he was doing or he could get sued.

(Sukuna): tell me right away if this happens again I’ll handle it

He texted you right after getting banned. His body hurt from exhaustion, he could truly pass out at any moment.

(Y/N): I will

(Y/N): sukuna...thanks for doing all that. It really meant a lot to know you care about me

(Sukuna): Of course I care about you

Sukuna was about to type out that he liked you, of course he did all of that and risked himself getting sued because he liked you and never wanted to see you cry again. Almost admitting to how he wanted nothing more than to give you a big hug, but stopping himself at the last moment.

(Y/N): you’re such a good friend Sukuna, thank you

(Sukuna): you’re welcome

It hurt to be put into that category, in the friendzone. It made his tongue curl in disgust, a rancid place that he wanted no part of. People that were in the friendzone were spineless and too weak to just confess their feelings - and Sukuna seemed to be one of them.

After that incident, you went on a break from all social media and Sukuna began to patrol your comments sections. He actively posted that he would start doxing people again if they said anything bad, citing all the damage he’d done to the previous victims. Sukuna had gotten what he wanted, all the people he exposed suffered in some way, most losing jobs and friends.

On a run to the grocery store, Sukuna was listening to a podcast you’d been on. He missed the content you posted, and while he did text you sporadically about Youtube stuff, he didn’t feel comfortable messaging you about anything else. His mind always stopped him, questioning him on if what he wanted to say was really worth your time.

“Hi Sukuna.” Standing at the bread section, Sukuna nearly jumped into the air hearing your voice pop up next to him. There you were in a baggy hoodie and sweats, looking every part an unnoticeable member of society.

“(Y/N)? W-what’re you doing here?”

“Hm? I’m shopping.” You chuckled, showing him your handbasket.

“Right.” Nodding slowly, Sukuna eyed you up. Your eyes were still a little puffy and he could see they were red as well. You looked tired and worn down, not your usual happy self. “Hey (Y/N).”

“Yeah?” You were unprepared for the heavy arm that landed around your shoulders and even more at being pulled into an embrace. Sukuna hugged you to his chest tightly, squeezing the back of your hoodie in his hands.

“I…” He could feel you relaxing into his arms, heaving a deep sigh like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. “Don’t feel sad anymore.” Sukuna seemed to have a habit of saying the things he wanted to say in the worst way possible. What did that even mean? To tell you not to be sad anymore instead of offering something else, like his friendship, during this time. He wanted to tell you he’d be here for you.

“Thanks Sukuna.” Hugging him back just as tightly, he could hear you sniffle a few times. The hug lasted for a while, just standing in front of bread, and a good two minutes passed before you started to unwind yourself from him.

Keeping a loose arm around you, Sukuna kept you close, searching your face for any hint that you would possibly start crying. Your eyes were a little misty, and your lower lip quivered just a little, but you sent him a smile that made it all better.

“So, what’re you getting?” He asked, attempting to be casual.

“Well, I’m actually done shopping now and I just saw you standing here.” You admitted with a chuckle. “I know it’s been a while since we last spoke properly.” The last message you’d sent to each other was about a sim card two days ago.

“Don’t worry about it, you were going through stuff.” Shrugging his shoulder, Sukuna grabbed the bread he wanted. “I don’t want you to force yourself to talk to me if you don’t want to.”

“Sukuna, I want to talk to you more though! I know we only talk about Youtube stuff but I want us to be better friends.”

“Really?” Nearly crushing the bread in his hands, Sukuna quirked a brow at you.

“Yeah!”

“Well...alright then.” That made him really happy, like really really happy. You wanted to pursue a stronger relationship with him and while it wasn’t a romantic one like he hoped, he was still ecstatic on the inside.

“I have to go, but can we video call later? I have some things I wanna ask you.”

“Okay.” Giving you a brief wave, Sukuna watched you walk out of the aisle and out of sight. A silly smile stretched his cheeks at the thought of your call later, and it stayed on his face the whole way home.

Later that night, Sukuna was diligently waiting for your call. He kept his phone glued to his hand, something he didn’t normally do, just in case you called. At nearly 7pm on the dot, you called and Sukuna answered right away.

“Hi!” You weren’t in the baggy clothes anymore, it looked like you were in pajamas sitting on your couch.

“Hey.” Sukuna was sitting at his computer doing editing, so he didn’t have to worry about you seeing the lack of furniture in his home. All you had to look at was a blank wall behind him. “So, you wanted to ask me something?”

“Mhmm! I was wondering- well first, Sukuna do you watch anime?”

“Anime?” His face twisted up in mild disgust. “No, that shit is fucking lame.”

“Sukuna!”

“What? I’m not that much of a fucking loser to like anime.” Rolling his eyes, he immediately envisioned a man in his mothers basement jerking off to pixelated tits. “Why? Do you watch it?”

“Yeah…” Now you were embarrassed, and it showed on your face.

“Fine, you’re not a fucking loser.” Propping his phone up on his desk, he tipped his chair back and looked at the ceiling. “At least, not a total fucking loser.”

“Sukuna!” Now you were laughing at him, and he smirked at you. “You’re so mean, you know that?”

“Hey, that’s my brand ba-” He was about to call you baby, the word catching thickly in his throat. Luckily, he stopped himself and slammed his chair back down on the ground to cover it up.

“Well, now I don’t know if I want to ask you my question! You’re gonna say no right away.”

“Tell me.”

“No!” Shaking your head hard, you panned the phone up to your ceiling. “You’re definitely gonna bully me!”

“Who knew you were such a baby?” There, he’d called you baby like he wanted to. Not in the context that he desired, but he still got to say it.

“Am not!” Glaring at him, you exhaled shortly. “I was wondering if you wanted to come to this anime convention with me? It’s happening downtown in a few weeks and I’m a guest on a lot of panels this year. I want you to come with to help film stuff for me so I can make it into a highlights reel for my channel? As sort of a comeback video since I’ve been gone for a while.” It was amazing how you’d managed to say all of that so quickly without taking a breath.

“A convention?” Sukuna had only been to fitness conventions and a few that his manager made him go to.

“Yeah! And I wanted to know if you watched anime because I wanted to see if you’d cosplay with me!”

“Cosplay? What the fuck is that?” It sounded stupid.

“We would dress up as characters from an anime! Have you heard of demon slayer?” No, he hadn’t and his silence told you as much. “Look up Nezuko from demon slayer, that’s who I’m dressing up as!”

“Fine, one sec.” Quickly typing it into his computer, Sukuna’s brow rose seeing the character. “You’re gonna dress up as some BDSM girl?”

“It’s not BDSM!”

“Then why does she have that thing in her mouth?” What else could it be for?

“That’s because she’s a demon and they don’t want her to eat people!”

“God that’s lame.” Looking between his phone and the computer, Sukuna tried to imagine you in this outfit. It was cute, a cute pink kimono with a little hair tie and sash. The more Sukuna looked at it, the cuter it got. “But on you it’ll be cute.”

“So will you dress up with me?” You asked immediately, your eyes shining with excitement. “I already know what character you’ll be! There’s a boy named Inosuke that-”

“No way, save your breath. I’m not dressing up.” Doing a quick search of the boy in question, Sukuna let out a snort. “And why do you want me to dress up as someone with a boars head on? You saying I’m ugly?”

“You don’t have to wear the head!” The opportunity was quickly slipping through your fingers at seeing Sukuna cosplay. “It’s ‘cause you’re so fit and so is he! And you’re pretty similar too.”

“I don’t care if he was my twin.” Shaking his head, Sukuna closed the tab and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll tell ya what, I’ll come to this thing and take all the videos and pictures you want and in exchange, I won’t dress up.”

“Wait, how does that logic-”

“Just go with it. Now send me an email about the thing and I’ll clear my schedule.” Waving off any further questions you had, Sukuna quickly got the email for the convention. It was about two weeks from today, and it was going on for the whole weekend.

“So, do you think you’ll be able to make it?” You asked tentatively, worrying your lip.

“Of course.” Sukuna would definitely need to do some serious schedule rearranging. “I’ll pick you up like last time, just let me know the time.”

“You’re the best, Sukuna!” You smiled big at him and Sukuna smiled back. Maybe during the convention, he could show you he was more than just a friend.

When the day of the convention came, Sukuna got ready bright and early to pick you up. The sun had only just settled onto the horizon and he was chugging coffee before leaving.

“Hey.” You yawned loudly as you got in his car, still clearly half asleep.

“Cute.” Sukuna said in response. You looked absolutely adorable. The pink kimono looked good on you, the sash accentuating your waist well. The little green gag he’d seen earlier was hanging around your neck, and you had a cute pink ribbon in your hair.

“Hm? You like it?” Shuffling around, that was when Sukuna saw how high the slit was on your outfit, coming high up on your thigh. His eyes were glued to the skin that showed, unable to look away.

“I do.” He whispered, glancing at you briefly to see your eyes were closed.

“That’s good, I spent a lot of time on it.” Putting your seatbelt on, you yawned again and pointed lazily out the window. “To the convention!”

It was a short drive to the convention, and you were some of the first people there. With a badge around his neck, Sukuna followed you into the hall. You weren’t carrying the bag of camera equipment you’d brought, Sukuna insisted on carrying it so it wouldn’t ruin your costumes aesthetic.

“We’re here really early to get pictures! I booked with a professional photographer, and my pictures are going to be used as promo for a few brands here today.” You explained as Sukuna followed you into a room with a full photoshoot set up.

“Okay.” He was completely lost watching you begin to take pictures. After chugging an energy drink, you hopped straight into it. Sukuna made sure to watch the photographer closely, looking at the computer as the pictures popped up to make sure they weren’t indecent for you.

Nearly an hour and a half later and you were finally done. Sukuna had begun to film some parts of it for you per your request; his job as videographer started now.

“The convention hall is open now to everyone, it might be kind of overwhelming to see all the people out there.” You told him as the photographer was packing up.

“Eh, I’ll be fine.” With a shrug of his shoulders, Sukuna left the room and stepped out into the main hall. Immediately, he knew you were right. There were so many people already milling around dressed in costume, most from shows and games he’d never seen. The only readily identifiable characters for him were from Nintendo.

“Told you it was a lot.” Bumping him with your shoulder, walked out into the convention space. If Sukuna didn’t stand right behind you, he feared he would lose you in the crowd. There were other people dressed up as the same character and he couldn’t trust himself to differentiate between all of them.

Filming a little bit of walking around, Sukuna could hear and see people looking at him in shock. It wasn’t unknown that Sukuna had a distaste for anime and the whole culture surrounding it. Some of his most popular videos were him making fun of people at the very same thing he was at now.

“E-excuse me, (Y/N)?” A young teenage girl approached you, nervously fiddling with her phone.

“Hi!” You waved, immediately seeing her phone. “Do you want a picture?”

“Yes, please!” The girl's nerves quickly dissipated at your question, but she still looked scared of Sukuna.

“How about we take a few selfies?” Sliding next to her, you put an arm around her shoulder and posed. You and the girl took a numerous amount of pictures, and when she left she had a happy blush on her cheeks.

“Is that gonna happen often?” Sukuna asked, watching the girl disappear into the crowd.

“Yeah, sorry! I posted that I’d be going to this for the second and third day and a lot of people said they were gonna ask for pictures.” Rubbing the back of your head nervously, you sized up Sukunas face. “Sorry if it annoys you, I know it can be kind of tedious.”

“I don’t mind. Let's get going.” With a casual shrug, Sukuna walked to where your first panel was. He stayed off to the side as you talked to the organizers and other guests, feeling awkward that he couldn’t hold a conversation on whatever it was you were talking about.

The people soon filed into the panel, filling the seats and whispering excitedly about you and the other people sitting at the front of the room. Some of them noticed Sukuna and whispered about him too.

Ignoring them diligently, Sukuna filmed your panel from the back of the room. He didn’t need to worry about picking up any sound, you were speaking into a microphone. All he had to worry about was capturing good angles for you.

He did this for a few more panels as well, slowly getting more comfortable with people noticing him there. He even waved at a few fangirls that saw him, their faces erupting in a scarlet flush and giggling silly.

“We have almost two hours before my next panel, do you want to grab some food? I’ll pay.” Waiting in the back of an empty room, you tried to reach for your bag that Sukuna had slung over his shoulder.

“No, you don’t have to pay.” Pushing your hand away, Sukuna kept you at arms length.

“C’mon, you have to let me pay! You’re doing so much for me already!”

“Nope.” You tried to struggle past him and grab your bag, but Sukuna was strong enough to keep you at bay with one arm. “Fine! But I’m buying you a plushie later!”

“Whatever.” With the matter settled, the two of you left the room. Almost as soon as you came out, there was a loud gasp from a few people outside the door.

“Oh my god, your Nezuko is so good!” One of them shouted. Sukuna eyed him up, a young man dressed with a strange green and black checkered overcoat.

“Thanks!” You replied, fiddling with the edge of the brown one you were wearing. “I spent ages on getting everything just right!”

“Y-you’re (Y/N)! I didn’t think I was going to see you today!” Another man had on a similar getup to the first, but he was clad in yellow and orange.

“It must be your lucky day!” Laughing a little at his shocked face, you quickly noticed the third man standing there. “Sukuna look, this is what I meant when I said you should dress up as Inosuke!”

“Huh.” He looked at the shirtless man in front of him. The guy was muscular enough, not nearly as much as Sukuna was though. The brown pants he wore were too baggy for Sukunas liking, but he could see the way you were looking at him.

“Can we get a picture please?”

“Of course!” You quickly got in the middle of the three of them and crouched down, throwing up peace signs and smiling brightly as they took the selfies. Sukuna was watching all of their hands, making sure no one touched you or got too close.

“Sukuna, will you take a group picture for us?” You asked, already handing him a phone.

“Yeah.” You didn’t really leave him with a choice and it’s not like he was going to say no to you anyway. It was harder to keep track of just where these men were putting their hands, and every so often Sukuna would look to make sure that the hand placed on your back stayed there and didn’t go any lower.

“Thank you so much!”

“You’re the best, (Y/N)!

“Bye, please tag me in the pictures if you post them!” Waving cutely at them, you walked away. “Ah, that was so much fun! They were so cute!” Gushing about the pictures, you didn’t notice Sukuna had a vein throbbing in his forehead. He seriously wishes he’d dressed up in that dumb costume with you so you could feel the same way about him.

Quickly eating some fast food - much to Sukunas disgust - you were back in the convention hall. There seemed to be even more people here than before milling about. Gripping the back of your top, Sukuna made sure you didn’t get too far from him in the crowd.

“Let’s go check out the merch!” Leading him to a larger space in the convention center, your eyes sparkled looking at all the different vendors spread out. “Sukuna, is there anything you want to check out?”

“Not really.” The only thing he could see that he knew were some overpriced candies. “I’ll just follow you.” And that he did. You stopped at nearly every booth, rejoicing about how cute something was and how much you wanted a certain figure. Sukuna offered to pay for whatever you wanted, but you staunchly refused.

“Sukuna, which one’s your favorite?” Coming upon a booth filled to the brim with different plushies, you crossed your arms and squared your shoulders. “We aren’t leaving here until I buy you a plushie!”

“I don’t need one.” Not only would it ‘ruin’ his tough image, he didn’t like those things to begin with.

“Yes you do!” Stamping your foot childishly, you pointed at them. “Pick one!”

“Who knew you could be so mean?” He teased back with a flick to your forehead.

“Shut up.” Puffing out air, you grabbed his hand and pulled him closer to the booth. “I’ll even help you decide.”

“O-oh.” You were holding his hand. You were definitely, 100% holding Sukunas hand. Your two hands were squishing his one in your palms, shaking it side to side as you looked at all the choices before you. How was Sukuna supposed to pick something when you were holding his hand so close to your body? He could feel the tips of his fingers graze your sash every couple seconds.

“What about this one?” You pointed your hands to a brown bear with a giant body but a tiny head.

“What’s wrong with the head?” He looked concerned at the doll.

“It’s supposed to be like that!”

“I- okay.”

“Do you like it?” Looking at him hopefully, you squished his hand even more. “It’s so cute, you have to get it.”

“Let me see it.” Picking it up with his other hand, Sukuna stared at the unmoving, smiling face of the bear. Squeezing it in his hand, Sukuna let out a short sigh and put it down. “Alright, I’ll get it.”

“Yes!” Letting go of his hand, you rushed to grab your wallet before he could stop you. “Make sure to send me a picture of you with it!”

Right after you finished paying, Sukuna nearly demanded to buy you stuff as well. He’d seen the way you were eyeballing the figures and some books, and he wasn’t going to be the only one to leave this part of the convention hall with a souvenir.

The bags he was carrying were definitely heavier now when you left to go to your next panel. They put a little strain on Sukunas arms but he wasn’t about to let you carry anything and quickly ducked back to his car to put it all away.

Right in the middle of your next panel, Sukuna ducked out to go to the bathroom. He was keeping well hydrated during this whole day and it was surely catching up with him now. Wandering the halls, he eventually found a bathroom to use and on his exit, he noticed a sign for something called an ‘artists alley’.

“Let’s check it out.” Here, there were people selling things but they were clearly fan made. There were paintings and pins, stickers and fan art everywhere. Wandering between the vendors, his eye caught on a particular booth.

“Sukuna?” The person gaped when he walked up but he wasn’t paying attention to them. On a cork board above them was a moderately sized drawing of you, dressed up in an all red get up.

“How much?” He pointed at the drawing, looking at the red cap you had on that matched with the red jacket.

“The (Y/N) x Cells At Work fan art? It’s $35.”

“I’ll take it.” The artist was clearly surprised, scrambling to grab the drawing and put it in a protective sleeve. “Keep the change.” Sukuna slapped 40 down and turned away. “Oh, and don’t tell anyone I was here.”

“O-okay!” They shouted after him. Sukuna kept the drawing close to his chest and when he got back he quickly hid it in his bag so no one would notice. He started filming again like he’d never left and you didn’t question him on it when it was over.

“Man, I’m so tired!” With the convention over hours later, you all but collapsed into Sukunas car. It had indeed been an eventful day between speaking at panels and taking pictures with countless people.

“Yeah, I’m beat.” Sukuna agreed, taking a moment to sit in silence in the driver's seat. He hadn’t expected to be so tired after today. He’ll have to prepare better for tomorrow.

Driving you home, both of you were like zombies as you departed. Sukuna didn’t even have the heart to properly disrobe when he got home, collapsing into bed with the plush you’d gotten for him still in his hand.

The next day was just as hectic as the day before, the word had gotten out that you really were at the convention and now more people swarmed you in between panels. Sukuna took the pictures for all of them, giving any man that wanted one a harsh glare before he started. He was easier on the younger girls, but he still made sure that they didn’t try to flirt with you or anything. No one could be fully trusted.

“Sukuna, I forgot yesterday but we need to go to the artists alley!” You exclaimed in shock, grabbing his upper arm. “They have such cool stuff!” Oh, Sukuna definitely already knew about it. The drawing he’d bought of you was hanging in his room, by his full length mirror so he could see it whenever he wanted.

He pretended everything was brand new to him, acting as if he’d never seen the pins before or the stickers and tote bags. Coming upon the artist he’d bought from yesterday, he noticed there was more fan art of you there.

“Oh my gosh, that’s me!” You giggled happily, pointing to yourself drawn as a Pokemon trainer. “It looks so good!”

“Thank you so much (Y/N)!” The artist gaped, clearly shocked to see you here. “I-I studied all of your pictures so I could get everything just right!”

“You did a great job!” The two of you went on and on about the drawings and other paintings that were there. Sukuna wished he could chime in and say that he really liked the art he bought yesterday, but there was no way he was explaining to you that he bought a drawing of you as a red blood cell. He would rather die.

The rest of the day went by in a blur, all the panels going by so fast and melting into one another. He didn’t feel the same exhaustion as the other day, but Sukuna was definitely still tired as he walked to the car.

“Sukuna, thank you so for this weekend, it really means a lot!” You were the happiest he’d ever seen you. The footage he’d filmed for your video perfectly captured all the good parts of the convention, with several shots of your smiling face with fans and other panel members. “How can I repay you?”

“Well…” There was something he’d been wanting to ask you for a while, ever since he saw you in costume. Today was the last day of the convention and subsequently the last day you’d be wearing this costume. “Can we get a picture together?”

“What? We never took a picture together?”

“No.” Sukuna chuckled at your surprised face. Rushing to his car, you set up a little stand for your camera on the hood of his car.

“Okay, let’s take some!” As soon as Sukuna was standing next to you, you wrapped your arms around his middle in a tight hug.

“W-what’re you doing?” Immediately, his face began to blush.

“You deserve a hug, Sukuna, you’ve been amazing.” Sukuna could barely breathe. Not because you were holding him firmly, but simply from the fact that you were hugging him of your own accord. His hands were shaking slightly as he moved to hug you back, grinning shyly at the pleased hum you let out when he did so.

The drive home left a bittersweet feeling on Sukunas tongue. He was glad it was over so that he didn’t have to wake up so early and deal with the gross crowds of people. There weren’t potentially disgusting men and perverts trying to take upskirt shots of your costume or grope you that he had to worry about.

Stopping at a light though, he realized how much fun he had as well. Listening to you talk and share your opinions on the panels was interesting and getting to hear others talk to so passionately as well had made him interested in a few shows. He knew you’d be ecstatic to hear that he could potentially get into anime, and Sukuna knew that at the next convention, he’d dress up for you. He also loved the bear you’d bought him even though that was something he’d never admit.

“Thank you again Sukuna, seriously.” You squeezed his arm as he pulled up to your house.

“Don’t mention it. Let me help you with the stuff in the back.” You’d bought even more things today than yesterday, mostly for friends and family that couldn’t make it to the convention. Gathering all the bags, Sukuna walked them to your door and wandered right into your apartment.

“You can put them all near the couch!” Closing the door behind him you quickly jogged over to the couch to help him with the bags.

“Whoa, your place is nice.” It actually looked like someone lived here as opposed to Sukunas place that looked like an upgraded jail cell. There was a fluffy rug on the wall and a few cute figures and small plushies on shelves, you had plants hanging down from the ceiling and it smelled vaguely floral. There was also a space dedicated to fan made art and gifts, with some fresh flowers sitting in a vase.

“Thanks! Maybe we can film a video here someday!”

“Definitely.” Mumbling dumbly, Sukuna was vaguely aware of you staring at him. “What?”

“You’re such a good friend, Sukuna. I can’t thank you enough!” Again, you hugged him. Burying your face into him, you shook his body side to side before quickly letting go. “Anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask!”

“Hey that’s my line.” Patting you on the head, Sukuna let a dumb smile spread his cheeks. He truly had the most fun ever with you, and for a moment he could pretend that you were a couple and that he was going to spend the night here, cuddle up with you and talk about all the dumb little things happened the past few days.

But he wasn’t dating you and his daydream only lived a few seconds before he made his departure. Going back to his own home, as Sukuna stepped inside he got a notification that he’d been tagged in a photo.

It’s one of the ones you’d taken together where you were hugging each other tightly. Your smile was genuine, showing all your teeth. Your eyes were crinkled at the corners, looking at Sukuna’s kind of surprised face with an indescribable warmth.

‘I love my friends’

That was the caption you’d put with a simple heart emoji after. There were people in the comments asking if this meant you were dating now, begging for you to admit it so they could say their ship sailed. Reading the caption over and over, Sukuna bit his lip to contain the feeling spreading in his chest.

‘I love my friends too’

He commented. And one day, he promised himself that he’d get to call you something more than just a friend. Wandering further into his apartment, he smiled like an idiot at his phone, quickly screenshotting the post.

“Ow!” Bumping his shin hard into his plastic foldable dining table, he was faced with the jarring reality of his surroundings. If he wanted to call you his, he needed to get some furniture first.

#jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen scenarios

615 notes · View notes