Dennis always knew he would die. It was just a fact of life. He’d become used to the idea of mortality at a much younger age than the average person, sure, but he never found the thought unhealthy. Being exposed to death so young only made him that much more aware.
It was just… Dennis hoped he would die having accomplished more in his life. Not a theology degree and almost a doctor. Everything had to go downhill for him during his second-to-last rotation. He didn’t even have a place to call home which should hurt more than Dennis thought. The thing he really regretted, though, was not making more amends.
None of that mattered. What mattered was him staring down into the backpack that looked exactly like his, but instead of finding clothes and textbooks and his computer, he found bricks of drugs.
“Oh.” Dennis said meekly. The two men in front of him only laughed. Of course they did. They probably dealt with stuff like this all the time. Some random person messing up their trade. And now Dennis would have to pay for it.
“You cost us a pretty penny for…” the one on the left started. He had the gray hair, though the one on the right had flecks of white in his beard. “Shit, a couple of textbooks? Nothing that interesting… a few clothes, too.” Dennis failed to hold back the tears that were blurring his view of the bricks in the bag. It wouldn’t do anything.
“Yeah,” Dennis croaked. He didn’t know why he said anything, but he’d be dead soon anyway. It didn’t matter. “I don’t have anywhere to go so… it’s all in there.”
“Hm.” the man continued. “Aw. How cute, a sketchbook too. Basic anatomy book right next to the ratty thing. What, you an artist?”
“No.” Dennis said, voice flat even as more tears fell. He reached his hand in the bag and poked at the bricks. It was probably worth more than Dennis ever had. Enough to pay off his parent’s debt, maybe. “I wanted to be a doctor. I was gonna save lives or something.”
The sound of more of his belongings being pulled made Dennis glance up. Most of the stuff he really cared about had been left behind. Everything in that bag wasn't important. Well, they were, but Dennis didn't think trying to fight for any of the items to hold onto was worth it. He wiped his palm across his cheek.
The textbooks hit the desk first, then the laptop. They were all placed on the desk that stood between him and the men. Being dragged through the place had scared Dennis. In another life, he would have been in awe. He had been in awe. There had still been too much fear to properly appreciate the architecture. All he really processed was how much it must have cost.
When his clothes got thrown on the desk, Dennis choked. It sucked to see his whole life just laid out like that. Everything he owned fit in one bag with nothing to show for it but a steaming pile of debt. There would be no one to bury his body. He didn't have an emergency contact and it wasn't like his family would go looking for him.
"Only two pairs of scrubs?" the man on the right asked. Dennis nodded. If he spoke now, it would only turn into sobs. Might as well try to keep some of his dignity. "You don't even have night clothes in here."
"They--" Dennis sucked in a breath as more tears ran down his face and the sob broke free. It took a few more seconds to compose himself properly. If Dennis was delusional, he would have thought both the men seemed to pity him. "--They took up too much space. I sold them so I could have dinner."
Silence.
Nothing from either men was worse than them saying anything. Dennis curled around the backpack in his lap, sobbing into the thing. Of course it wasn't his. This backpack actually held up to being used as a stuffed animal. Dennis' would've ripped or made the already existing hole bigger as his nails dug into it. He didn't care about the nice cushion on the chair as he curled his legs up, too. If he could have at least one thing before he died, he would let himself have the comfort of finally crying.
Something scraped across the table and Dennis gasped as he looked up with wide eyes. He blinked fast and hard to see what the men had set down and--
Water. A glass of water. Dennis stared at it and heaved a deep breath.
"Small sips," Right said, "Came from this." He held up a fancy looking bottle of water. Dennis sniffed and looked between the glass the man held and the one in front of him. He reached forward with a shaking hand and listened. "Where are you doing your rotations?" Dennis took a few sips as he tried to get his breathing under control.
"The PTMC," he said. He set the water back on the desk. He had better control of his breathing now, if not the tears that were still pouring down his face. It probably looked pathetic to the two men, eyes red and puffy with his whole life in one bag. Dennis wished he had anything he could even beg for. "It's my emergency rotation. I don't... Sorry, I don't know why I'm telling you that." Left hummed. Dennis sniffed and wiped under his nose with the back of his hand. He kept his gaze firmly away from their faces. If he looked this pathetic, he didn't want to see the disgust they held.
"Oh, um," Dennis sniffled again as he started unwrapping from the backpack. It took more effort than he'd like to admit to heft the thing onto the desk and shove it in the men's direction. "Sorry."
Another bout of silence before the two men started conversing. Dennis couldn't understand them. It took him a few seconds to recognize the language, not that it helped any. Hebrew. He had a theology professor who insisted they learn at least one prayer: The Shema. It was important to know someone's faith in order to best help them with their journey, his professor said.
"Not everyone you come across needing help will be of your faith. You must respect that." Dennis smiled at the memory. He muttered the prayer under his breath, brows furrowed together as he focused on the pronunciation. He didn't even hear the two men falter than stop as he spoke. When he finished, his tears were slower.
"You're Jewish?" Right asked. Dennis jumped, not expecting the question. He shook his head and pulled his legs back onto the chair. He still shivered despite his attempt to stop.
"I grew up Christian," he said, "I don't know what I am anymore."
"Huh." Left said. Then, there was the sound of the chairs scraping. Dennis squeezed his eyes shut and pulled himself into a tighter ball. "We'll be right back. We need to discuss something. Just stay right there, pup." A hand land in his curls and Dennis didn't know whether to pull away from the dangerous hand or press into the last soft touch he might ever receive. The sound of the door closing and locking came soon after.
Being left in the room meant Dennis could walk around. He thought he probably should. Give in to the short lived freedom he earned but he was just... so tired. How bad was this, really? Just because he didn't have anything to show for in life didn't mean finally resting would be all that bad. Dennis had hoped he would die of old age. That must not have been how he was meant to live.
Dennis stayed curled up on the chair, although he loosened a little. Let himself drift and sleep before the eternal slumber. He could do whatever he wanted and there would be no real consequence, so why not waste his last few hours napping?
The door opened again with a loud click and whoosh. Dennis didn't even bother opening his eyes. They could just deal with him here. Dennis didn't care anymore.
"Alright, here's the plan," Left said, "You're going into emergency medicine." Dennis' head whipped up at that. It hurt his neck a little, how fast he moved. The crust in his eyes from crying so much made it hard to see, but when he wiped it away, standing just behind the two men was Jesse van Horn. Dennis knew Jesse. Jesse worked at the hospital as a nurse.
"What..." Dennis rubbed one eye just to be sure. Still Jesse.
"Jesse will be your bodyguard," Right said, "And you won't say a word about any of this to anyone."
"Aren't you going to kill me?" Dennis blurted out. Not the best thing to say but it was all Dennis could think. He was supposed to be dead or on his way to being dead. Not... being assigned a nurse he talked to almost every day as his bodyguard.
"That was the plan," Left said, "New plan. You're our partner."
"I don't want to sell drugs." Dennis said. Dumb. Idiotic.
"No, not in that way."
"You're moved in, effective immediately," Right said, "Welcome home, motek."
Synopsis: Your boss takes on Gojo Satoru as his newest client. Much to your relief, he doesn't seem to recognize you.
(Warnings: noncon, dubcon, rough sex, oral sex, bullying, harassment, one mention of choking, penetrative sex, afab!reader, coercion, forced relationships, implied baby trapping attempt, hint of pregnancy kink)
You wanted to quit the second you read the name.
You should have. It would have been so easy to hand in your two weeks, tell your boss that you just couldn't. Or maybe you could have convinced one of the other paralegals to take your place.
It's pathetic. Almost a decade had passed and you still felt yourself slink into the girl you once were, rolling under his thumb, utterly helpless. You should be better than that. You worked so hard to reach where you are now.
You were different now, you told yourself over and over again. You were older, smarter. Besides, it'd been a decade, would he even remember you?
It's Higuruma who notices your restless fingers. You shouldn't have underestimated him, despite how exhausted he looks, nothing goes past your boss. He asks about it when you two are seated in a beige room, waiting for the client.
"Is everything alright?"
You're still staring out the window. How high were you? 16 stories, maybe even higher. Resentment, you can feel it rise up your throat, build throughout your body. Of course, he has fancy cars, pretty buildings, and limitless money. Men like him will never know what it's like to have nothing. All men were born equal. What a fucking joke.
Higuruma shifts, and you jolt out of your thoughts. "Yes," you console, "apologies, I'm just tired."
The lawyer hums, and you're not sure if he believes you or not. Before he can say anything, the frosted doors open. The rest of the legal team comes in, sitting at the long table you and Higuruma inhabited.
He comes in last. He'd always had a liking for theatrics.
Not much had changed within a decade. He was taller, bigger. He'd switched out of his high school uniform, opting for something more business-friendly. He still made heads turn. Became the center of attention.
It's his smile that throws you. Sincere, real. Lingering on his face like extravagant jewelry. Hard not to notice.
You react better than you anticipated. You don't shake or tremble or cry when he passes you. You just squeeze your fists, bunching your skirt in your palm. It helps.
He sits down, right at the end, so everyone can see him. One foot elegantly crossed over the other. When he tilts his head, his soft white hair threatens to shift over brilliant blue eyes.
"Well, I'm sure you don't need me to explain why we're all here." A few chuckles resonate from the small group. "Let's just do our best and hope nothing gets too out of hand."
His eyes slide over to meet yours, and you steel yourself for his eyes to widen. For something wicked and cruel and nasty to sink into his face.
Nothing.
Gojo Satoru maintains that same smile. The blaring sun. Painfully innocent. His gaze lasts barely a second before moving to the next face, and the next, and the next.
"I look forward to working with all of you."
𖤓
If you could describe Gojo Satoru in one word, it would be: celestial.
He's like a shining star. Brighter than the sun. Everywhere he went, he was bound to attract attention. Much like how the Earth is drawn towards the sun, people are drawn towards Gojo Satoru. It's the natural order.
But, if an insignificant planet resists the Sun's gravitational force, it'll get crushed. You learned this the hard way.
Gojo had always been in your class for years. The third year was no different. Despite the commonality, you two never talked to each other. You had no reason to. Until the vending machine gave you two cartons, and you suddenly remembered from an overheard conversation that Gojo liked chocolate milk too.
"Want it?" You hold it out to him during lunch break. He was in the middle of a boisterous conversation with his friend. They did intimidate you, but you had no reason to be scared. It's not like they were bullies.
Gojo's sunglasses dip down. He eyes what you're holding in your hand, before his gaze drifts back up to you.
"The machine gave me extra," you supply, "do you want it?"
"Oh, sure," he says after a moment. Your hands brush. "Thanks."
You nod, and then you walk back to the cafeteria. It was meaningless. A favor between acquaintances. He was helping you more than you helped him. You didn't want to carry chocolate milk around in your backpack. You forgot about the interaction within a few hours.
𖤓
The meeting ends hours later. When you stumble home, it's barely evening but you can still feel the stress creeping through your legs and arms.
You go straight to your laptop. Fumbling through the keyboard, desperate, searching.
He's famous. Of course, he is. In his mid-twenties, but already a multi-millionaire. The head of an extremely elite family. Your eyes scan picture after picture after picture. Photos of him drinking with models in skimpy bikinis. Fancy cars. Huge houses. Private jets. Gojo Satoru: the man behind Gojo Co., Gojo Satoru and supermodel Menza hinted at relationship, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru.
You pull away when it starts to burn, when the rage and sorrow become too much. He has everything. Everything he could want. He made you go through hell for months, and yet he never got punished for it. The universe rewards him with lavishness you'd never be able to touch.
It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fucking fair.
Through your blinds, the sun happily shines.
𖤓
You don't notice it until it becomes painfully unbearing.
Gojo calls you by your name now (until that day you bet he didn't even know you existed). He's like a ghost, constantly appearing out of nowhere to sling an arm around your shoulder, eager to chase off any of your friends to talk to you about things that don't matter.
He constantly offers to walk you home (and then Gojo ignores your refusals and does it anyway). It stays like that for a few days, never bordering beyond friendliness. You think he's harmless. Maybe he just hasn't had someone genuinely do a nice favor for him. Besides, you're flattered by the attention. Even you can be swayed by the pull of Gojo Satoru. It feels nice to be wanted.
You reason it'll just be for another week. A week later, you two will be nothing but acquaintances, sometimes exchanging quick smiles during class.
It doesn't truly dawn on you as to what he's doing until he comes out and says it.
"What?" Because you must have misheard him.
"We should," he says, not even bothering to repeat himself, "I mean, we're practically dating already. Let's just make it official."
You stare at him. As always, he's utterly beautiful. The light of the setting sun makes his skin glow gold. Whenever he's walking you home is one of the rare times he removes those sunglasses. His eyes are like jewels, pretty things that you wish were yours.
You laugh. It's high and panicky because you still think he's joking. He doesn't laugh with you. You stop.
"Oh-oh, I'm sorry Gojo-I wasn't-I didn't think. I'm just not...interested in dating anyone right now. It's not you! I think-I think you're great, but it's just the wrong time, and school is getting so much busier and-" you keep rambling, coming up with excuse after excuse because you're convinced Gojo would cut you off with an awkward laugh, tell you it's fine.
He doesn't do either, letting your flounderings get more and more pathetic. His smile had dropped. You can't read his expression anymore.
Eventually, you grow quiet, standing with him in that silence. When that gets too much, you timidly tell him to have a goodnight and walk home. He doesn't follow, staying rooted to the sidewalk where you left him. You're not running away, you tell yourself over and over again. And yet, you can't help but feel relief as soon as you can't feel his eyes.
Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you.
𖤓
It was something minuscule.
Barely considered legal work. The case would most likely be finished in a couple of weeks. The defendant had nothing on Gojo Satoru, at least from what you and the other paralegals could see. You highly doubted it would even go to court. Higuruma always had a knack for bringing anyone to the table. Gojo would be let off from whatever he did without a hitch. No punishment. Just like always.
"Word of advice, don't think about what happens in the private sector," Higuruma says, over whiskey.
The firm was celebrating another victory at a fancy bar. You were still stewing over the face of that young woman's face when the judge ruled in your client's favor. She looked heartbroken. You can still remember the sleazy smile your client had given her.
"It's a job," he says, "do it. Boost your resume, and get out."
He takes another dainty sip of his glass. Tonight, the circles underneath his eyes seem even darker. "You're a young kid. Do something else with your life."
When he offers to buy you a round, you accept. You think about that night sometimes, and you wonder if Higuruma wished someone else would have given him that advice when he was younger.
Do the job, and get out. Easier said than done. Especially when the job involved Gojo Satoru.
Associating with him was dangerous, you knew that firsthand, especially when he was interested in something you had. You'd left, but that wouldn't save you. The space of decades would not help.
Burn Gojo once, he won't forgive you. Burn Gojo twice? You don't think there's anyone alive who did that.
Over the coming days, you expect something from him. It's a nagging feeling in your stomach. The delayed response to a gunshot. Dread. You expect him to snap. Push. Break.
He never does. Gojo remains pliant, the same to you as he remains to your boss. There's no additional touching, no disgusting nicknames, no scathing looks. Nothing.
You don't get the confirmation until a week later, when Gojo stops you near the elevator.
"Higuruma's...assistant, right? Sorry, never got your name," he says, and you steel yourself because the two of you are alone and here it comes but if you yell loudly enough maybe-
"He asked for some paperwork, and I finally found it for him." Gojo hands you a stack of sheets with a cheery smile. "You won't mind giving that to him, will ya? Thanks!"
Just as quickly as he arrives, he leaves, shoes clicking down the hall as he goes. You can only stare at his rescinding back, the palpable feeling of relief nearly making your knees buckle.
The best news you could have possibly received. Gojo Satoru had completely forgotten about you.
When you got home later that evening, the rain was heavy, and the sun was nowhere to be seen.
𖤓
You don't have proof it was him.
It's unjust to accuse people of things they didn't do. You lack any evidence. It could have easily started by itself. You'd always been meek and timid. People were bound to take advantage of that.
But the timing was just too perfect for it to not be caused by him.
In the weeks following the incident with Gojo, school went from tolerant to hell. It started small, at first. Tiny. Unoticable. Insignificant. Some people (Gojo's lackeys, you'd later realize), would nudge you as they passed you by the halls. They apologized, mid-laugh, and in the beginning, you truly thought they were sincere. Then, the nudges turned into pushes, then shoves. That's when you knew you had a target on your back.
At first, you found it kind of hard to believe. Bullying? It sounded so childish. Something reserved for petty middle schoolers. You were in your final year of high school. You were already an adult. You laughed it off, for a bit. Mostly because it was so ridiculous. Only when it starts becoming more severe, more apparent that you were his target, do you start taking things more seriously.
There was no proof, but everyone knew it was Gojo. And being on Gojo's bad side wasn't something people were willing to risk. One by one, your friends started to disappear, reducing their involvement by sending strained smiles during passing period. The more stubborn ones who were more adamant about staying by your side were chased away too. They'd skip school for a few days, before coming back and completely ignoring you.
Teachers and staff were no help either. Why would they? Gojo's family held them in the palm of their hand. The most your homeroom teacher would do was avert his eyes whenever something was thrown at you for the third time in class, and quietly remind students to settle down.
You fell on the ground with an embarrassing thump. A chorus of laughter, and a mocking 'sorry' is all you hear from the crowd. Other students step over your scattered papers, giving you looks of sympathy but never bothering to help. You'd call them cowards, but you know you'd do the same.
Instead, you focus on collecting your papers. You avoid the lump in your throat. The tears that threaten to break over your waterline. It's humiliating, being stuck on the floor like this. It's only Wednesday, but you already feel like breaking.
Hands, scarred, move past you, collecting the rest of the sheets. His face is carefully blank as Geto Suguru neatly tucks his share all in one piece before handing it to you. You give your thanks. He ignores it.
“Are you hurt?” Geto asks, his voice barely loud enough to hear.
You think you scrapped your knee during the fall, but other than your pride, you're fine. You shake your head. Geto sighs. It's not out of relief.
“That's good,” he says anyway.
You found it ironic that Gojo's best friend is the only one who bothers to help you these days. It makes sense, in a way. It's not like he'll send his goons to Geto, instead. In this solar system, Geto Suguru is the only person unaffected by Gojo's solar flares.
You work in relative silence, collecting the mess that fell out of your bag. Geto hands you the last of the supplies, idly watching as you tuck them away.
“Take my advice,” he says just before he leaves, “give in.”
He stands up. Geto Suguru has always been taller than you, but now the difference feels even worse. When he looks down at you, a flicker of pity lingers in his eyes. It's gone before it can mean anything.
“It'll only get worse from here if you don't.”
Worse, he had said. God, what could be worse? You were already at rock bottom. All you have left is your dignity. Something you intend on gritting your teeth to keep.
You quickly learned something about Geto Suguru: he knew his best friend.
Friday. The end of the worst week of your life has finally arrived. The week after is break, and then maybe Gojo will move onto some other hyperfixation, and finally leave you alone.
Classes were out. You were done, free to run home and cry the entire week away. And then, you noticed, your locker was open.
Smashed in, was a better term. Completely, irrevocably, destroyed. It looked like someone had taken a wooden bat to repeatedly smash in the metal until it cracked open like an egg.
You don't want to look, but you have to. The busted door is barely hanging on its hinges when you push it open.
It's worse than anything you could think of.
Your books, textbooks, journals, are all torn apart and written on. All the contents of your bag have been thrown around. Your assignments, your notes, your pens and pencils. But it's your laptop that makes your throat stop. Smashed, broken without any hope of being salvageable. Your everything was in there. Why why why would he do this to you?
This wasn't bullying.
This was abuse.
Fuck pride. Fuck dignity.
You were so tired.
Despite the hell his lackeys put you through. Gojo Satoru himself never bothered you. In fact, you hadn't seen him all week. He doesn't make himself impossible to find. You know where his group hangs out after school. You're barely holding yourself together when you hear his voice. His pretty laugh. You don't care about how you look, close to breaking, your voice high-pitched and shaky.
"Why?"
Your voice catches his attention. He falls into silence, just like the rest of the group. Gojo surveys you for a moment. There's a scoff, a hint of amusement before he waves off the rest of the group.
"Get lost."
They comply, dispersing in multiple directions. For the first time, in a long while, you and Gojo are left alone. You and Gojo are left, alone.
"Well?" he tilts his head, completely bored.
"What do I have to do?" You ask desperately, "What-what do I have to do to make this all stop? Please I'll-I'll do anything, just-just make it-"
It's all too much. You can't hold your sobs in, bursting into tears as you fumble through your words. He tuts in mock pity. You flinch when you feel his hand against your cheek, but he doesn't let you shy away.
"Anything?" He asks when your sobs simmer into hushed whimpers, "Really? Anything?"
You blink, looking up at him with rough teary eyes. He's grinning, wide and manic. Your heart drops when he lowers himself to whisper in your ear.
"Anything, right?"
You nod once. He sighs in pure delight. His breath tickles your cheek.
"Get on your knees."
You jerk back, but Gojo doesn't let you go far, a hand on your shoulder, keeping you rooted on the spot. At your look of pure panic, he only laughs a little.
"I-I-Gojo you-"
"And call me Satoru now. Since we're gonna get to know each other a lot better," he interrupts with a chiding grin, ignoring your wide eyes. "What? I thought you said anything, right?"
He's asking, but it's clear you don't get a choice anymore. His grip on your shoulder is tight, close to crushing skin and bone. You're trapped. No, you were trapped the moment you talked to Gojo Satoru.
To think this all started because of two cartons of chocolate milk.
You relent when his grip gets too painful, sinking down to your knees. The grass is cool, and you know it will leave damp spots on your skirt, letting everyone know what you did for him.
"Good girl," he coos, and you shudder at his hand petting your hair. Like you're some precious pet. To him, maybe you are. How could anyone think of treating a human like this? You should be grateful he does it for you, instead of demanding you to pull him out. Still, the jiggle of his belt makes you wince. You turn away, not being able to bring yourself to look. Only when the tip of his cock reaches your peripheral, do you look back. It's big. You should have expected it, considering his height. It's already leaking, a bead of precum that makes you shudder. He moves forward and you instinctively grip his thigh.
"Gojo I-"
"Nuh-uh. Satoru," he ununciates, "Satoru. You gotta' start listening to me baby, or else we're gonna have problems."
You look down at the grass. Green, soft.
"Satoru."
His eyes flash in satisfaction.
"Open up, pretty girl."
The last of your fight disappears, sinks into the soft grass. You swallow, once, before you take him. It's a slow, torturous process. He's too big, your jaw is already starting to ache. Satoru barely notices your discomfort, sighing in contentment when you start to gag on his cock, reaching down to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.
You make a muffled gurgle and he tilts his head down. His sunglasses fall forward, two pretty eyes stare at you.
"What? Don't act like this is your first time-" he stops himself, mid-thought.
"Wait...this can't be your first time, right?"
If you weren't humiliated enough. You can't even lie, averting your eyes to avoid any further shame.
"Poor baby," Satoru says, all too delighted, "lemme' walk you through it. Gotta' suck on it, just like a lollipop-that's it-use your tongue," he encourages, still gripping his cock in his hand, like he was feeding it to you.
You can feel your mouth open wider. Tears stream down your face, not just from your pride, but also from pain. Satoru lets you take him in like this for a few more moments, just enjoying your warm mouth.
"There we go," he breathes, "take-fuck-take all of me."
But Satoru isn't known for his patience. You've barely taken all of him in yet before he grabs your hair to fuck your throat properly. You choke, sputtering all over his cock. He barely pays you any mind, his head thrown back as he rams himself down your mouth without a care in the world.
"Y'know, our first time together could-could have been nicer," he says through gritted teeth, the heat was starting to get to him, "but you just had to go and mess it up, huh?"
If you were stronger. If you were braver. You would have rejected it. Screamed. Fought. At the very least, you would have denied his delusions. But you weren't strong. You weren't brave. You were weak. Stupid. This was all your fault. Had you just given in the moment he asked, this wouldn't be happening to you. Or maybe, he'd be a bit nicer about it.
He hisses, gripping the back of your head before something warm and disgusting fills your mouth. Above you, Satoru lets out a shameless groan, a mix of your name as well as a curse. He releases you then, finally letting you sink to the floor. You fall forward, resting on your hands and knees, panting, trying to regain your breath, some semblance of sanity. You can still taste him. It's salty, a sickly tang. You spit as much as you can on the grass. It doesn't help.
He kneels, getting down to your level. With the way he's silently watching you, you know he's waiting for the right answer this time.
Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you.
So, you drop your gaze down. You take in a deep long stilted breath.
"Yes, Satoru," you say, voice quiet, pliant, "I'll go out with you."
His demeanor drops in just a second. He smiles, painfully innocent, like you hadn't spent the last few moments choking on his cock. He cups your face with both hands and you wonder how he could look at you like that, gently, as though you weren't covered in tears and his cum.
(You still feel it drip down your mouth. Tonight, when he finally lets you go home you'll cry for hours in the shower, hoping the water will wash away all the shame you feel. It won't.)
"Finally!" He exclaims, laughing, light, happy, elated, "I'm so glad you finally came around. I was starting to think I was ugly or something."
You stay like that for a while. Underneath him. You let his hands run up and down your body, like he's feeling the space that makes up you. Soon, you'd realize Gojo Satoru liked to touch things that were beneath him. A thought muddles it's way through your numb brain. You bring yourself to look at him.
"Satoru?" you ask. He sighs in satisfaction, stroking your hair.
"My laptop...it's broken."
You didn't know what else to say. It sounded accusatory, even to your ears. Righteous. You wondered if he heard it too, if he'd do something about it.
Satoru only scoffs.
“that old thing?” You flinch. It was a gift from your aunt, you highly doubted he cared enough about the sentimental. He hugs you closer, almost like a snake, constricting you within its scales before it devours you.
(You think the worst part is that he didn't even deny it.)
“I'll just get you a new one, baby.”
He walks you home later that evening. When he demands a kiss, you comply, numbly pressing your aching lips to his.
The sunset is pretty today.
𖤓
It's not a particularly hard case, but Gojo has a knack for keeping those who work for him busy. Higuruma had asked you to stay behind, once again. The two of you were stuck alone in the office building, a room that Gojo had graciously supplied.
You were milling through a stack of papers when someone new walked in. You didn't recognize her. She was tall, pretty, sparkling jewelry littered her neck and wrists. Your eyes drifted up and down her outfit, something that definitely wasn't business-appropriate. A part of you wants to ask where she got that lipgloss from.
"Oh," she tilts her head, surveying the two of you with pretty eyes, "is Sato not here?"
You inwardly cringe at the nickname, but choose not to show it. Higuruma is the one who saves you, in the end. He speaks on both of your behalf.
"Mr. Gojo isn't here at the moment," he says, "feel free to wait."
She does as she's told, plopping down on a seat right next to her. Higuruma goes back to ignoring her, dutiful in everything like he always is. You, on the other hand, don't like the way some of the other associates eye her legs. When you wordlessly hand her your jacket, she gratefully accepts.
"Thanks. I love your bag, by the way," she cheerily says and a part of you feels bad for her.
Minutes pass. She crosses her legs and then uncrosses them. When she crosses them again, you have to look up from your paperwork and ask if she's feeling alright.
"Just nervous," she admits, "I-I haven't seen Sato since our...last meeting."
Everyone in the vicinity knows this wasn't a casual business meeting, you don't get why she's avoiding the elephant like that. Probably to save face. It's clear from her behavior that she wasn't expecting so many visitors, so perhaps this situation is new for her. You found it strange that a booty call would be called up to an office building, especially when people were clearly watching, but you doubted Mr. Gojo cared about that. He was always shameless in that regard, uncaring about anyone's reputation, even his own. That's why he's in this legal mess in the first place. Besides, you were part of Gojo's Satoru's legal team. Part of your job is to be discreet about his extracurricular affairs.
Gojo Satoru hadn't changed at all since high school. Why would he? His personality has gotten him this far, after all. The Sun would never change, it's a constant sphere of fire. You wouldn't want him to change. You were banking on his stagnant nature to slip by. You couldn't imagine if he did change, improve himself, and realize how horrible he'd been to you. How would you be able to keep yourself together if he pulled you aside one day and tried to apologize? You'd break. Things are better the way they are now. Let Gojo Satoru indulge himself in all this lavishness, forgetting about the people he's tortured. It's better this way.
You glance over at the girl. She's young, maybe a couple of years younger than you. You can see the flush on her cheeks. The clear swooning. A part of you wonders what she'd think about that man if you ever told her what he did to you. What a monster he is-
"There you are!" Mr. Gojo strides in, just as silent as always, making himself known when he wants to.
The girl jumps up, her eyes lighting up in pure excitement as she practically drags herself into Mr. Gojo's arms. He places an arm on the small of her back, scarily close to touching somewhere inappropriate as she chatters away. They disappear off to wherever rich men like him go.
It's so quick. You must have imagined it because, for a second, you were sure he'd glanced back at you.
𖤓
By now, everyone knows you're Satoru's. That means, like him, you're untouchable.
You're not celestial. If Satoru was a star, then you were a stray meteor he'd found hurtling through space, and he couldn't resist forcing it to revolve around him. In exchange for suffering through his solar flares and radiation, he protects you from bigger planets that are all too eager to smash into you. The one relief is that no one seems to bother you anymore. You haven't been shoved around, pushed, or prodded. Sometimes, you receive glares from Satoru's old ex's, but it's more tolerable than burnt homework.
Satoru has officially chased away all your friends, but he's more than happy to keep you company. You sit next to him in lunch now, quietly listening as he prattles on to the rest of his friends (you recognize some of them, the ones who messed with you, they never seem to hold your gaze for long). You used to study on campus alone, right after school let out. Now, you still do it, but with Satoru watching. It's hard to concentrate with his wandering fingers and wet lips.
He takes all of your firsts. You don't give them to him, much less, he demanded it of you. The first time he fully takes you is far less romantic than you'd ever hoped. It was on his bed after he'd practically dragged you over to his house that night. You went home the next day covered in marks that took nearly a week to heal. A little while after that, Geto came to talk to you again. For the second time ever.
"Here." He offers you a packet. Pills. You're confused for a moment until you realize Satoru didn't wear a condom.
"Thank-"
"Don't," he cuts you off, "Don't thank me."
He says it with so much hate that you think it's directed at you. It isn't until years later that you realize the disgust was towards himself.
There are theories that the Moon once had color.
It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The sun didn't help. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection.
When the moon was out, you often stared at it, reveling in its beauty. Now, trapped in between Satoru's arms, you find its skeleton a bit too haunting to look at.
Three more weeks. Just three more weeks.
Graduation is coming up soon. You already had your college picked out, far far away from this backward town. From his conversations, Satoru was planning on going to some high-end college in Tokyo. With the way he kept looking back at you, you had a feeling he was planning on dragging you there too.
You were intelligent enough to keep your mouth shut about your plans. Satoru never asked, so you guessed he assumed you would let him bully you into whatever he wanted. He was right, so far. It's not like you'd ever argued with him.
Your parents were the only people who knew about your plan. They were excited, albeit for the wrong reasons.
"I'm so glad to see you're this interested in higher education," your mother beamed, "why the sudden change?"
You look at your mother's face. People have told you that you share the same smile. You wonder if she'd keep smiling if you ever told her about what Satoru's been doing to you, the bullying, the harassment.
You can't. You won't, because you can't bear to see her give you the same pitiful look your classmates give-the one Geto gives. You don't want her to see you as something broken.
"I'm just starting to think I might go into law," you finally say, "definitely need college for that."
On Thursdays, you have to sit inside the gym during Satoru's basketball practice. You wait on the bleachers, reviewing notes, and listening to the squeaking of sneakers. Satoru's good at the sport. You know last year they won a few tournaments. Whenever he scores a point, he gives a cheer, turning back to see if you saw it too. In those moments, you remember he's just a kid. He's your age. You can feel the envy. There, but too insignificant to do anything. He pleasantly lives his childhood, even after he stole yours.
Practice ends, always a little later than it's officially supposed to. Coach gives the final whistle and then Satoru is jogging back to you. Your things are already neatly packed into your bag. His breath is barely ragged, you can smell the hint of sweat as he kisses you on the lips. You can feel eyes on you, same as always. It's getting easier to ignore the gawking. After all, you're Satoru's now.
"Miss me?" he asks when he pulls away. He grabs your stuff before you can, hauling your backpack away. To others, it may look like he's being a sweet boyfriend. To you, it's another leash, tugging you to where he wants to go. You're not sure how Satoru sees the action.
You clamber out of the bleachers, following him without a word. Usually, Satoru would walk you home. You'd share a kiss with him on the front porch. And for the rest of the day, he'd finally leave you alone.
He grabs your hand, shooting you a wink when you lightly jostle into his body. Instead of heading out the door, Satoru turns his gaze towards the empty locker rooms. The light's automated. It flickers an unsettling white, casting a sick glow along the tiles. You are barely through the door before Satoru's pinning you against the lockers, kissing you as aggressively as he can.
Your hands immediately find their way to his shoulders, squeezing. It's not enough to hurt him, but it grabs his attention anyway. He lets up a little, relaxing into your touch.
"Sorry, baby," he says not sounding apologetic at all, "just be good f'me, okay? Need you."
He's pent up, you realize and you look at the door. School's out. The campus is nearly empty. But people are still around. And the door he just shoved you through doesn't have a lock-
Oh, wait. Would it even matter if someone came in and saw you? Everyone knew you were Satoru's.
Three more weeks. Just three more weeks.
He's trailing down, dropping to his knees. He flips up your skirt, pushing aside your panties, and attaches his hot mouth to your pussy. He's ravenous, today. Sucking on your clit like he can't bear to do anything else. You gasp, immediately assaulted by the shocks of pleasure running up and down your back.
You press against the wall, arching your back, giving him even more to suck on. He hums in approval, his voice getting lost in your wet folds. You're practically dripping now, and Satoru, with all his debauchery, gladly licks it all up as you writhe and whimper above him. Your thighs grow tighter around him, threatening to crush his skull if both his hands weren't carved into the fat of your thighs, squeezing.
Your initial panic is washed away, crumbled by his insistent tongue and fingers. You whimper out his name again as his tongue circles your clit and two fingers continue to move in and out of your sopping pussy. You're crying now, tears of pleasure and brokenness floating down your cheeks. Despite how blurry your vision is, you can see Satoru looking up at you.
"Getting close?" he's breathless, but there's still a hint of playfulness in his voice, "gonna sing, pretty girl?"
He gives a particularly hard suck on your clit and you're gone. You seize, throwing your head back as your legs shake from the force of your orgasm. It's a scream, so loud and shameless. Satoru gives a groaned pant, lapping up your aftertaste, making you jolt from the overstimulation before he finally gets to his feet. You watch as he haphazardly wipes the remnants of you with his sleeve before he's kissing you again.
"Always so sweet f'me," he purrs, biting at your lips before he fumbles with his belt. His cock is already red and strained. He pants, head shifting to fall at the crook of your neck as he lines himself up and sinks into you with one full thrust.
You whine a mix of a sob and a hissed moan. He hushes you with a stilted breath, barely keeping himself together as he pumps himself into you. Both of you are sweating now. You can feel the beads draw down your neck. He licks at your clavicle, biting when he starts to get more aggressive. When it's too less, he hikes your thigh over his waist, keeping it there so he can go even deeper.
"Fuck, I'm crazy for you," he slurs against your skin. You can barely pay attention to his words, barely keeping your own voice in check, "’would do anything for you, pretty girl."
He raises his head, looking you in the eye. His sunglasses have been tossed on the floor. You can his beautiful eyes, two cosmic galaxies of blue. You could stare at them for hours, discovering each variant of cerulean, naming each one. You bet each day you look, you'll find another shade. They're so pretty.
You wonder how pretty those eyes would look floating in a jar.
"'Toru-!" you gasp when Satoru rocks himself into again, even faster. The name you accidentally gave him when you're too fucked out to comprehend language makes him laugh in pure delight, his smile uncontrolled, delirious.
"Right here, baby," he moans into your sweaty skin, hand reaching down to rub your clit, "your ‘Toru's right here. Just where you need him."
His fingers move under your shirt, squeezing at your tits, exploring, roughly grabbing at your chest. The sensation makes you wince. Your walls draw even tighter, choking his cock.
"Too-too much, 'Toru, p-please." He growls at your begging, burying his face in your neck again. He nips at your damp skin, you flinch.
"I gotcha' baby," he breathes, "just-just lemme-" He presses on your clit. It's all you need.
You come with a sob, your pussy squeezing, milking Satoru for all he's worth. He's not too far behind, hips stuttering before he whines in your ear. Something warm fills your cunt.
You flounder, sagging against the wall. Satoru's the only thing that keeps you upright as you fight to catch your breath. He isn't in any better shape, panting just as hard as you are. He lifts his head, pressing his damp forehead onto yours. There's a dreamy smile on his lips. A look of absolute adoration.
"I love you."
You look at him. There's nowhere else to look.
"I love you," he repeats, leaning forward to kiss the corner of your lips. His lips trail down, caressing your cheek, your jaw, your neck. It would almost feel nice, but you can only stare straight ahead. You can see the dull green lockers in the distance. You can smell the mold in the damp locker room. You can feel Satoru's cum slowly seep out of you, trailing down your thigh.
Fuck three weeks.
You needed to get out, now.
𖤓
The only reason you went is because you were told Gojo Satoru wouldn't be there.
His assistant had off-handily mentioned that he had a meeting on the other side of town. Very last minute. The building as a whole would be empty, just a skeleton crew and a couple of security guards to keep the place running. It made sense, it was 8 pm- long past any proper business hours.
Higuruma could have easily gone, but it's clear the sleepless nights have been getting to him, or the stress. His paralegal is more than qualified to act like a middleman between him and Mr.Gojo's associates. It's an easy mission. Just grab a few things, and get out.
Gojo Satoru wasn't supposed to be there.
And yet, there he was, leaning against the door, blocking you into the room.
His assistant had always been a mousey thing. Tonight, however, he'd been extra ansty, looking around the room. Babbling out excuses as to what was taking him so long. Now, when he can barely even look at you, you realize he was just a distraction.
"You're off the clock, Ijichi," Gojo finally breaks the silence, "take tomorrow off too, okay?"
His assistant quickly nods, keeping his head down to flit out the door. You can't even bring yourself to be mad at him. Gojo always had a habit of singling out the weakest, crushing them within his fist, unless they bent or broke.
The door shuts with a click.
"You know, I didn't even recognize you at first," he starts. He takes a small step forward.
You take one back. He puts his hands up.
"Okay, don't be like that," he sighs, exasperated, "It's been what, 10 years? How you've been?"
He steps around you, barely brushing against your shoulder to get to his desk. He reaches down, grabbing a wine bottle and two glasses from a cabinet, setting both down on mahogany wood.
"Wanna drink? Technically, it's against company policy to serve alcohol in the building but I won't tell if you don't." He grins. It looks bloody.
He looks so casual, the man who's haunted your nightmares, leaning against a desk in a building he owns. Your heart's beating in your chest. It's so loud. You wonder if he can hear it too.
When you don't respond, he rolls his eyes.
"Figures." He pops the cork. "You were always such a stickler for the rules."
"What do you want?" You ask, your tone weaker than you'd liked.
"What? Don't you wanna catch up? I missed you." You flinch at his words, looking away. "A paralegal, huh? Gotta' say, wasn't what I expected, but it fits you." It sounds condescending, but you don't poke the bear, opting to stay silent.
He seems to take an issue with that, regardless.
"Are you mad? If anything, I should be the one upset at how you just ran off like that. After all that time we spent together too. I didn't even get a breakup text."
His last words, send a chill up your spine. A warning. Staying here any longer would be a mistake.
You go to move.
Satoru's faster.
Your head slams against the wall. Hard. Enough to hurt. You struggle anyway, clawing at the hand that's gripping your throat, the body pinning you down. Above you (he's gotten so much taller now), Gojo tuts in disappointment.
"I tried to be nice and look where that got me. You tried to run again," he muses, like he's disappointed, "I shouldn't be surprised. You've always needed something with a bit more teeth." At his threat, his hand on your throat tightens. You freeze.
It's barely choking you, but it's enough of a warning. His other hand is playing with the end of your blouse, feeling the fabric. You can feel the tears start. They're a familiar taste. Only this time, they're twinged with bitterness.
"Don't do this," you whisper, "Don't-don't-"
"Yeah, I don't think you're in any position to make demands right now." He's grinning, but when you look into his eyes, you can see the anger. A fire that has burned for a decade. At that moment, you realized Gojo Satoru had changed. Now, he was better at hiding how he truly felt.
You should have quit the moment Higurama got him as a client.
Gojo's dragging you over to the desk, haphazardly pushing away the stuff already on it. The computer, the bottle, the wine glasses all fall to the floor with a deafening crash as he shoves you down, splaying you across the table. He follows you down, leaning to meet your lips in a frenzied kiss. It's different than all the other times he'd kissed you. He'd lost all the inexperience, more keen on making you stay put and bleed. When you try to turn your face, pushing at his chest, he only growls. A large hand grabs your chin, keeping you in place for him.
When he pulls away, there's a hint of blood on his plush lips. It's not his. He licks it up regardless.
You're full-on sobbing now; barely in sucking air as your body shudders and jolts. You don't expect comfort, least of all from him, but he's cooing, wiping away your tears.
"Missed this," he purrs, ignoring the way you weakly push at him, "'guess that was my mistake. I was expecting you to be different. Nah, you'll be the same crybaby you always were. That's how you managed to slip under my radar."
He buries his face into your hair, sighing in contentment as you shiver underneath him. His lips graze the crown of your head, a complete juxtaposition to his words.
"Scream all you want. No one's here, baby." No one's gonna save you from me.
Still, you try anyway. Your hands grip his broad shoulders, digging in your nails until he hisses.
"Fuck maybe you have changed." He rasps, fiddling with his belt. "You're bitchier now."
"Gojo-Gojo what are you-" He bites on your bare clavicle. You squeal, stilling underneath him again.
"Satoru," he insists. You slump over the desk as he takes both your hands, wrapping his leather belt around your delicate wrists. You wince when he twists it into a knot. The leather bites into your skin. The fight dissolves just as rapidly as it arrived. He hadn't even lifted a finger against you. You were just that pathetic.
"Satoru," you breathe, waving your flag of defeat. He hums, licking at the bitemark. You can feel the heat bloom on your skin. They'll be a mark tomorrow, and much like Satoru, it would go away so easily.
"There's my good girl," he groans, cold hands fiddling with the buttons on your blouse, opening it up until your bra pops out, "I know I should be more mad, but I've always had a soft spot for you. Guess things will never change, hm?"
His mouth dips down, tracing your collarbone to your breasts. He wiggles down your bra, letting your tits spill out and into his hands. He squeezes one while taking another in his mouth, swirling the bud with his tongue before devouring. His moan is barely muffled by your tits. Yours is clear, high-pitched and breathy. Satoru always had no problem being shameless. And he often dragged it out of you too.
He's mouthing something against your skin, but you're too distracted by his other hand, slinking down your waist, pushing up your pencil skirt, letting it bunch around your hips. In the moment, you chastised yourself for wearing something so easy to get rid of, but it wasn't like you were expecting for him to be here, to bring you down just like he did when you were in high school. It's not like you were expecting to fall.
Satoru feels around your pantyhose, running up and down your thigh, searching. He squeezes the sheer fabric, before he rips a hole into it. You gasp, jerking at the action.
"That's-"
"I'll buy you new ones," he says, voice muffled by your tits. The conversation feels familiar.
He bypasses your panties immediately, finding your pussy with practiced ease. You're already soaking. At this, he raises to look at you. You can't keep eye contact, timidly looking away. He laughs. It sounds sickenly affectionate.
"You're so cute." He purrs just as he leaves another mark on your chest. Your tits bounce under his attention as he pushes two fingers into your tight sopping hole. Your back curls, arching off the desk as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you. Disgust grows within you, not at him, but at yourself, for letting yourself get this low. This desperate.
It doesn't stay for long. He's cruel like that, moving in a way that makes you forget your humanity. His fingers get even faster, digging into your cunt and curling somewhere deep inside, hitting a spot that makes you gasp. You're reduced to whimpering moans by the time he finally stops, fingers exiting your pussy with a wet noise. He brings them to his mouth, sucking on his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of his head at your taste.
"Fuckin' sweet," he moans, taking his fingers out with a sickening pop before wiping the drool on your heaving tits.
Your eyes float to the window. The moon is out, you blearily realize. It's a blood moon, a rusty red. Once every 3 months, it'll lose its heavenly glow. The innocent milky white will get shadowed by the Earth's rusty atmosphere. It'll regain its color eventually. The Sun doesn't like to be overshadowed.
Something hard and blunt slides between your legs. You're barely given a second to comprehend it before Satoru grabs you by the hips, filling you up with one thrust. You yelp, a semblance of his name on your lips, but it's shrouded by the moan you give out.
He stays like that for a bit. You should be grateful he is letting you adjust to him. His cock is sickenly familiar to your walls. Satoru's hair brushes your cheek as he leans up to whisper in your ear.
"How many?" he sounds like he's gritting his teeth, barely in control, "how many guys have you let fuck you since you ran?"
You blink, wondering if he's seriously asking, but you can hear the seriousness in his tone. Even now, he's concerned with the wrong things. He's always been petty like that.
"You," you say because there's no point in lying, "it's only ever been you."
You say it like it's a curse, because to you, Satoru had cursed you. He'd stolen something you'd never be able to enjoy, devouring it, keeping it for himself. A part of you will always hate yourself for letting him do that, just like a part of you will always be his.
Satoru deflates, as if he's relieved, easing his face into the crook of your neck, placing an almost loving kiss on your shoulder. He starts slow, slowly drawing his cock out, just until his tip is barely still in, before he pushes himself back into your hole. His pace is slow, controlled. It's different than when he was younger, more eager to get himself off more than anything. Now, it's like he's enjoying the intimacy, the feeling of your walls squeezing him. The wet noises. He's barely affected. Unlike you, writhing underneath him, close to falling apart. It's his length that gets you, forcing your pussy to stretch just to fit him. His cock hits everywhere, all at once, an endless torture of pleasure.
It takes you a while to get your brain back together, to collect the mush, and realize that Gojo isn't wearing a condom.
"S-Sato-" You try, just when he spreads your thighs apart, pushing them close to your chest so he can get deeper and kiss you at the same time. His hand slips down to your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles and you feel yourself getting even closer. You squeeze your eyes shut at the onslaught.
"Try again," Satoru huffs, "What's my name? I know you know it, pretty girl."
"'Toru," you beg because it's all you have left. Your breathless gasps make you sound even more unconvincing but you still manage to stutter out, "I'm-I'm not on anything, so-so please-"
"That's okay," he mutters, though it's clear he's half-listening, "I'll take care of you and the baby."
"No-I-I-can't-"
He drops his leisure pace in exchange of shorter, faster thrusts. His cock barely leaves your pussy, grinding in your hole as his breathing starts to get a little less controlled.
"I'll make sure it takes this time too."
Your eyes open, and you forget your panic to stare at him. You think back to the pills 18-year-old Geto had handed you. Always discreet. You'd...you'd always thought they were Satoru's idea.
He hits something inside you, right then. You implode, crashing and burning as you gush around his dick. He's not kind enough to ease you through it, ramming his cock even harder inside your battered pussy until he's hunching over you with a shudder. You can feel his cum settle deep inside your womb.
You stay like that for a few moments, not saying anything. It feels like hours before Satoru is moving again, drawing his softened cock out of your overstimulated pussy. You can feel the cum drip out of you too, spilling onto the desk, but you don't think Satoru's too mad about that. He flicks your clit a few times, watching your hips jerk and you give an exhausted whine.
He kisses your breasts. He kisses up your jaw, before finding your lips. Dazed, you find yourself kissing back in reluctant acceptance, your body aching for any semblance of gentleness.
"I love you."
You look into his eyes, and you realize he's right. Gojo Satoru loves you, and this is how a man like him loves. He meant it, all those years ago, just like how he does now.
Satoru loves like the Sun. Too bright. With enough heat to burn your soul away. It's why you ran.
"I love you," he repeats like the phrase doesn't kill you each time he says it, "so you're never leaving me."
"Not ever again."
There are theories that the Moon once had color.
It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The Sun had eaten it. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection.
If Satoru was the Sun, then perhaps, you were the Moon. Stripped of your color. Unable to create light of your own. Reflecting only what you're given.
How foolish of you to think you could ever escape his radiation.
No thoughts... Just Dork Squad when they confess to their crush
The Harley Quinn show Scarecrow || Arkham Asylum Scarecrow || Gotham tv Mad Hatter || Arkham Knight Riddler || x reader
Here you go, love.
I'm not sure if you wanted the guys separate or not, so I just went with separate hcs for each.
And since you didn't specify which Dork Squad you want, I decided to write for my fav versions of each one - hope that's okay.
Also, I am really happy to hear you like my writing, it makes my day and motivates me :) <3
Edit: I originally started working on this a whole year ago, but then I fixated on different fandom and only recently I'm coming back to Batman so... posting this with a little delay... But better later than never, am I right? Anyways, all that was missing was Scarecrow's part, so you might feel the difference in how it's written compared to Jervis and Riddler's parts - and I wrote my two fav Scarecrows cuz I couldn't decide which one to do
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Trigger Warning: I'm trying out a slightly more serious approach, so the guys aren't all fluffy - but I'm trying to go for "having a certain diagnosis doesn't make you evil", so they're flawed but they're not monsters. With Jervis there's talks about his delusions and obsessions, and the romantic feelings start off as one-sided. Also brief mentions of how Jervis treats reader when he's having one of his episodes - but it's nothing too severe. Also brief mentions of blood. With Riddler there's mentions of passive-aggression, his delusions and his narcissist traits. He also lashes out at reader a bit violently at some point, but he does take accountability in his own way. Edit: Asylum! Scarecrow tries to kill you but changes his mind last minute. HQ! Scarecrow's part involves obsessive behaviours and blackmail
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Harley Quinn show || Scarecrow || Jonathan Crane
irrelevant nobody
he is known to continuously seeking out company for his studies - an assistant, if you will - however, this company solely serves as momentary entertainment,
even though Jonathan is Joker's right hand, he'd not all too... relevant...
he's not respected amongst the Legion and the others mainly see him as a joke,
only low rank goons really recognize his title and seeming importance,
but even then, Crane doesn't want to socialize and build partnership with bottom feeders,
he desires to be recognized by the top tier villains - he considers himself to be one of them,
but those kinds of villains see Scarecrow for what he truly is: a try-too-hard sycopanthic loser,
being seen
but then, one day, you - a new member of the Legion as well as a high rank villain - laugh at one of his awkward jokes,
and Jonathan feels seen for the first time, and he attempts to strike a conversation,
but he's awkward, he mainly speaks of his research and experiments, as well as some nerdy, niche interests,
and yet, you keep talking to him, you validate his entire being, ask about his studies - and he's hooked,
fanclub of one
the thing is, Scarecrow is a sycopant above all else and as seen in how obsessed he is with his study of fear, it's clear that Crane gets unhealthily fixated,
and by validating his sycophantic traits by giving him attention, you unwillingly unlocked a specific part of his brain,
it started innocently enough - he just greeted you in the hallways, asked to join you for lunch, nothing concerning,
he'd be overly sweet, bringing you coffee/tea without being asked to, filing out the paperwork that annoyed you,
it was just little things you could easily ignore... until you really couldn't...
self insert
while Jonathan would be undeniably helpful and a good friend, his self insertion into your life would begin to escalate,
suddenly he's with you on coffee breaks, on lunch, on missions, even in your personal life,
and he's booking a spot in a restaurant he's decided the two of you will have dinner at,
he's managing what goons can assist you and which cannot - because he wants only the best assistance for you,
he's organizing your office, placing items where he wants them, reading documents he shouldn't have access to,
and the Legion's medics share with him your entire villain medical history,
to put it simply, he begins to across serious lines - and it gets to the point of him wanting to know your real identity,
eventual confession
Jonathan ends up believing that what you two share is incredibly special,
and one day, he suggests you share with him who you really are by taking off your mask,
"Are you crazy??" you question as your face twists into a mix of confusion, offense and rage, "I can't just tell you!",
and Crane, eyes all wide, stammered in a flustered way: "But- I thought that since you and I-",
"That you and I what?!" you snapped, grabbing him by the noose around his neck,
"That since you've been brownnosing so bad, you're entitled to knowing my identity??" you hissed and tugged him forward,
Crane, in response, stumbled forward and choked out: "I merely assumed we're friends!",
you let go of his noose and crossed your arms, "I thought so too, Jonathan,",
then you grit your teeth and hissed: "but managing my phone calls, organizing my personal schedule, and going through my personal belongings - that's a bit too much!",
"But I-" Scarecrow tried to explain himself, but you gave him no opportunity,
"No, Jonathan! You're crossing lines you shouldn't cross!" you snapped at him, "and that's final!",
then you turned around to leave, but Jonathan, all panicked, attempted to stop you by grabbing you,
"Wait-" however, he indeliberately swiped your mask off your face instead,
a loud and horrified gasp left your lips as you spun back around: "Jonathan!",
"I'm- I'm sorry- I-" Crane's eyes were all wide as he held your mask, and as he spilled out apologies, he went ahead to return the mask,
but the moment your hand almost brushed the mask, Jonathan pulled back, his face darkening, "No,",
"What do you mean 'no'?! Give it back!" you panicked, reaching for the mask again,
but he only stepped back, musing: "actually, I think, I might keep it... unless...",
"Unless what...?" you questioned, your stomach beginning to twist,
Crane smirked: "Unless we start to play by my rules, of course.",
"Okay, just tell me what you want and give me back my mask," you began to plead, fearing someone might walk in,
"Oh, there's plenty of what I want," Jonathan chuckled and swung your mask around a little,
"however, we can start by simply going on our first official date,"
Arkham Asylum || Jonathan Crane || Scarecrow
his audience
the most defining trait of Jonathan's personality is that he has zero interest in socializing, yet, his theatrical nature forces him to need an audience,
Jonathan needs to be heard, he wants someone to listen to his delusional ramblings and obsession filled but practically nonsensical speeches - he's a huge talker, and needs someone to admire him, his work and his mind,
however, he's greatly picky about his audience - an assistant usually doesn't last longer than a week or so before he either gets bored of them, or they do something to set him off,
so, when you survived a week, and then another one, everyone was quite shocked,
fixation shift
one thing to know about Jonathan Crane, though, is that he doesn't know how to divide his focus - if he fixates on something, the thing consumes his entire mind,
and in the recent years, the center of his universe was always his research, of course - but then you appeared, and suddenly, his attention was being driven away from his precious studies,
he couldn't help but cold read you - he monitored the way you entered his lab, he listened closely to what tone you used to address him, he eyed you for any accessories or body modifications,
and late at night, instead of spending each and every minute of his life to study fear, he'd put together all he noticed about you in order to build a psychological profile,
eventual disdain
however, all things need to come to an end - Scarecrow eventually becomes aware of how much he's beginning to stray from his work - which genuinely distresses him,
but his distress expresses as furiousness - not at himself for getting infatuated with you, but at you for the way you carry yourself, the way you talk to him, the way you hand him equipment...
he simply and fully pins the blame on you - and it even gets to the point he forms a delusion that you're deliberately trying to sabotage his research,
he gets an aha! moment and grins to himself as he says "of course... that dirty little rat...",
arising danger
because Jonathan breathes for his project, he decides that the new, problematic variable (you) needs to be death with,
he'd consider strapping you to his surgical table and experimenting on you,
but, he'd realize you know far too much, and if you possibly escaped, all his most treasured information regarding his research would be free to be handed over to the wrong hands,
and so, he'd decide to use the bond you've seemingly built, and end you in a way your trust in him would never let you see coming - a simple poisoned drink,
eventual confession
your final night with doctor Crane was going slow - not much was going on,
everything was weirdly still, and that's when Jonathan decided to bid you farewell,
"Quite the slow night, eh?" he mused as he got off his chair and walked over to his desk,
you nodded: "Indeed it is, doctor. It's... unusual, to say the least...",
"I suppose a... small break won't hurt for once - don't tell anyone I ever said that," he warned as he opened a drawer and pulled out a flask,
his words made you chuckle a little: "Of course I won't, doctor. I am not one to ruin my boss' reputation",
"Indeed?" Crane hummed, looking your way while he - without looking - poured two shots from the flask in his hand,
"Mhm, I find going for someone's reputation as the lowest form of destruction," you stated, smirking just a little, "quite pathetic, if you ask me,",
Jonathan paused, his heart feeling a suspicious squeeze that rode down towards his stomach,
"Ah, that's quite the view..." he nodded, "one that I can agree with,",
then, he approached, holding out one glass towards you: "I suppose we can drink to that... shared opinion, no?",
your smirk softened and you took ahold of the glass, saying: "we most definitely can, doctor,",
and then the moment came - the moment he's been so thrilled for,
"to our shared opinion then," Crane rose his glass, and you did the same, repeating his words: "to our shared opinion...",
both of you then went to take a sip, but Scarecrow only really watched as your lips enveloped the glass,
but as you tilted the glass, sending the liquid inside towards your mouth, suddenly, Jonathan felt... dissatisfaction,
he suddenly felt displeased with the idea of you disappearing for good - even if your death would be definitely useful,
then he thought over how he'd get new assistants, ones much more useless and annoying than you,
getting a new assistant each weak would be quite the inconvenience...
and then, an idea sparked in his mind: he always studied test subjects that were strangers to him...
but he never did study someone who he had a bond with... until now,
that realization made him grab your wrist and stop you from falling to your demise he's orchestrated for you,
"I've changed my mind, a simple drink is not enough..." he rasped while looking into your confused eyes,
"How about a dinner instead? I have a feeling we have so much more in common than just one opinion...",
and you, unaware of how close to death you were, smiled: "I think this change of plans sounds... appealing... truly, appealing...",
And Crane tilted his head with a grin before offering you his elbow: "shall we go, then?",
____________________________________________
Mad Hatter || Jervis Tetch
unhealthy fixation
the relationship between the two of you was already quite romantic since the start,
though in your case, your expressions of adoration started off as desperation for survival,
because after Jervis' sister died, his sick mind needed to cling to something to stay somewhat stable,
and suddenly, just like that, the new object of his unhealthy fixation was you - his right hand,
slow beginnings
the shift in Jervis' attachment to you started innocent and slow enough,
you didn't really suspect that there was anything deeper at play,
all you noticed was Jervis seemingly attempting to deepen your bond,
it wasn't anything concerning at first, just increased level of intimacy,
like him offering you his hand when walking or to guide you places,
or him praising you for your work or prompting you for a casual chat,
and him using petnames with you at a slightly higher frequency,
and that was all - he was harmless and precious, like a cute little puppy,
growing realization
little by little though, you started to notice that you weren't just a right hand anymore,
you became something much more important, something irreplaceable,
and you weren't quite sure you liked the role Jervis was forcing onto you,
but you knew better than to reject Jervis in any form, and so you played along,
increasing intensity
not even within a month, Jervis was treating you like a doting lover would,
he'd compliment you all the time, give you random tokens of his love,
and he'd kiss your hand, hold you close, talk about your future together,
he was so affectionate yet gentle and somewhat respectful of consent,
it almost seemed like genuine love, that kind seen in love story movies,
but only when all of Jervis' fantasies were intact, and he wasn't triggered,
complicated feelings
you knew that you should hate Jervis for making you join in on his delusions,
but you couldn't really bring yourself to - you did kind of like him in a way,
if he was kept stable, he could be quite docile and pleasant to be with,
of course, he was still obsessive, possessive, and definitely not safe to be around,
but his darker impulses didn't affect you as much as you had expected,
he could be really frightening when something sent him spiraling, yes,
sometimes he'd mutter unsettling things, his delusions getting stronger,
other times he'd lash out and yell - usually some nonsensical accusations,
or he'd grab and squeeze your face with too much force without realizing,
but such moments happened only when Jervis' sense of reality was threatened,
if his fantasies weren't challenged and he felt safe and secure, he wouldn't lash out,
and oddly enough, after his episodes, Jervis would usually try to make it up to you,
he'd become overly doting and apologetic, pleading for you to not be scared of him,
and he never gave fake promises of doing better, knowing he was too far gone to change,
but he did always show something close to that of genuine remorse,
even despite the fact his capabilities to feel that sort of thing were limited,
maybe he couldn't actually feel it, but he recognized he should - and that could count, no?
growing familiarity
over time you learned a few tricks to keep Jervis calm and content - and hence harmless,
engaging with his fantasies was one way to keep him in a docile state,
you'd never encourage them too much though, because that'd only fuel his delusions,
and then he would end up spiraling, but in an entirely different yet just as harmful way,
another tactic was soothing him by speaking in a soft and calm voice,
talking to him in a steady and gentle voice often grounded him, but it didn't always work,
physical touch like brushing his hair or adjusting his hat also worked quite well,
but sometimes it wasn't a good idea - Jervis liked physical affections, but only on his own terms,
the most important thing, though, was recognizing the warning signs,
eventual confession
things stayed this way between the two of you for a few more weeks,
and much to your surprise, you didn't exactly hate what you and Jervis had,
you've grown accustomed to this role Jervis so randomly assigned to you,
and the affections you showed him stopped being all about survival,
you didn't exactly love him, but you weren't just playing pretend anymore,
there was something real in your feelings - you cared, he mattered to you,
and yet still, Jervis making everything official caught you off guard,
"I love you, are you aware?" Jervis proclaimed, his gloves hand caressing your face,
"yes, I'm aware," you nodded your head softly, "you tell me every day,",
in response, Jervis gave a low hum, seemingly thinking: "truly?",
"truly," you repeated, briefly nodding your head in response to his question,
"my words must lack meaning then," Jervis murmured and smiled,
that made you pause and hesitate, unsure of what to answer with,
you weren't sure if he was slipping into paranoid accusations again,
or if he was simply seeking to be poetic and thoughtful as he often did,
"whatever do you mean?" you asked slowly, hoping to not say the wrong thing,
to that, Jervis chuckled, "well, words that are said often lose their meaning,",
"isn't that true, dearest?" he asked, and you hesitantly agreed, "it is,",
silence fell over the two of you then, and you felt a hint of unease,
but before you could decide what to do next, Jervis brushed your hair back,
and then he spoke: "in that case I shall express my feelings differently then, no?",
he looked into your eyes and offered the gentlest smile imaginable,
"if you wanted red roses, but only had white," he mused and cupped your face,
"I'd paint them all red with my own blood," he paused, "I'd paint all of them,",
he leaned in close, his lips ghosting yours, and your heart stopped,
"even if it meant for my body to not have a single droplet left" he whispered,
and then, his lips met yours - gently, without any force or urgency,
he was giving you the option to pull away, but... you didn't know if you even wanted to...
____________________________________________
Riddler || Edward Nigma
bitter man-child
there were two well-known and undeniable facts about the Riddler,
he refused to ever play fair, and he didn't take too kindly to losing,
and unfortunately, you were on the receiving end of these tendencies of his,
why? because you rejected his confession - except you didn't really,
Edward didn't even confess his feelings to you, he just expected for you to figure out how he felt,
and when you didn't, he just decided to make you wish you did,
absolutely insufferable
ever since you unknowingly rejected Riddler, you found your work-life becoming hell,
your workload seemed to grow every day, and it was the most unpleasant tasks too,
for example you had to clean up the mess after someone didn't survive Riddler's challenges,
and not only that - suddenly nothing you did was ever correct or enough for him,
Edward seemed to treat you with unexplainable and newfound disdain,
and he was constantly fluctuating between giving you the silent treatment,
and between being unnecessarily hostile over the most trivial of things,
his goal was to make you regret ever humiliating him by rejecting his advances,
sudden shift
one day, however, Riddler's attitude towards you shifted once more,
because suddenly his delusional mind told him that you were just messing with him,
he suddenly became so sure that you didn't reject him, you were playing,
you clearly wanted to play the long game and test him, see if he'd preserve,
and just like that, Edward changed his tactics and started playing your game,
because he loved games and challenges - if he was certain they were no match for him,
joining in
after your sudden shift in dynamic, Edward treated your relationship like a game,
except you yourself had absolutely no idea that you were even playing one,
Riddler constantly gave you these smug, knowing looks, like he wanted you to know he was onto you,
kinda like a cat grinning at a small mouse, knowing the tricks the latter will pull to escape the inevitable,
he even gave you playful riddles designed to hint that he knew your game,
but he also did these awkward and odd things as if trying to tempt you and make you break,
like when you were seated at your work desk and just minding your own business,
he'd randomly appear and lean against your desk in a slightly exaggerated pose,
and he'd randomly lean against different surfaces in general even if there was clearly no need for it,
was this his attempt at being seductive and making you swoon? you had no idea, but you were scared,
Edward would also compliment you at random, but they weren't typical flirtatious compliments,
they were the backhanded kind where you weren't sure if you were being complimented or insulted,
overall though, Riddler was trying to be nonchalant, mimicking how you acted to seem harder to get,
or more like, he was attempting to mimic how he thought you were acting towards him,
all while you were just extremely confused and also somewhat worried for both his and your well-being,
eventual confession
but all good things must come to an eventual end at some point,
Riddler slowly grew tired of the games you two were playing together,
and so, one day, he to cut to the chase and finally confronted, you,
"alright," Riddler called, approaching you all so suddenly one day,
confused, your brows furrowed, and you went to turn around to face him,
but you didn't get a chance to properly react - Riddler beat you to it,
he spun your chair around without a warning, making you face him,
then he clutched the back of your chair, successfully caging you in,
and right after, he leaned in and added: "enough with the coy act,"
those actions caught you by surprise, and you stared at him all wide-eyed,
and you awkwardly and nervously stammered out a soft: "w-what...?",
"I've humoured your play-pretend long enough," Riddler told you,
"it's time to cut to the chase," he looked somewhat and oddly agitated,
he let go of your chair after, and straightened up back to his full height,
Edward then crossed his arms, adding: "no more games, just get to the point,",
and he just stood there, arms crossed, face expectant, as if waiting,
except you had absolutely no idea what he wanted to hear from you,
you were hesitant about voicing that uncertainty of yours though,
you were scared of saying the wrong thing and provoking an outburst,
he already appeared to be feeling irritated for whatever reason,
and you knew well enough that Riddler's temper was better left untouched,
so, you kept your mouth shut, quietly hoping for a calm and quiet resolve,
but much to your dismay, your lack of reply prompted Riddler to speak instead,
"I'm waiting," he said in a slightly playful, sing-a-songy voice tone,
but Edward was quite clearly quickly beginning to grow impatient,
he was lightly drumming his fingers against his arm, a warning sign,
your pulse quickened in response when you took notice of that,
and you begged your brain to give you something to say to him,
but nothing came to mind, and so you just stared, sweating bullets,
Riddler shifted his position when you still failed to give him an answer,
then he uncrossed his arms and rested them on his hips right after,
"you know," he started over after a beat of silence, "I'm all about games,",
"but this is getting ridiculous," he frowned and shifted his weight,
you reacted by furrowing your brows and mouthing another 'what?',
and Edward clicked his tongue in irritation at your lack of proper response,
then he gave a displeased sneer: "drop the act, and just ask me already,",
and at last, you finally managed to actually reply: "ask- ask you what exactly?",
but that was absolutely the worst kind of answer that you could've given,
because in an blink of an eye, your shoulder was harshly grabbed,
and you found yourself painfully and uncomfortably pinned to the back of your chair,
"are you taking me for a joke?" Riddler seethed, glaring daggers into you,
he dug his fingers into your shoulder: "do I look like a joke to you?",
"well, do I?!" he repeated, and his face was way too close for comfort,
you reacted with a pathetic, pained whimper and an attempt to explain yourself,
"I- I-" you breathed shakily, and you turned your head, avoiding looking at Riddler,
big mistake, because Riddler immediately and harshly gripped your hair,
and tugging your head back, he snarled: "look at me, you insolent waste of space,",
"look at me when I'm talking to you!" and he gave your hair another harsh tug,
and you did look at him, with wide, scared eyes and a trembling lower lip,
"you think you can play me like that, huh?" Edward demanded, voice raising,
"think I can be taken for a fool? Is that it?" he was clearly triggered,
but you had no idea what part of him felt that way, and most importantly why,
and since you couldn't identify the trigger, you had no way of calming his spiraling,
"do you even have any idea just who I am?!" Riddler continued loudly,
his thinking clearly turned black and white, either all or nothing,
"I am The Riddler! Edward Nigma!" he went on, "and you? ha! what are you even compared to me?!",
"you're just an insignificant rat!" he spat, and pushed off you "just a replaceable pawn!",
he stepped back and swung his arms around: "and to think that I-",
then suddenly, he paused mid rant and looked at you, narrowing his eyes,
Riddler was silent, and so were you, you didn't dare say anything,
you feared that you might accidentally prompt another outburst,
the silence went on for a good few minutes, before Edward gave a dry chuckle,
he chuckled, and you just gazed at him, unsure of what was going on inside his head,
"oh, I get it now," he smirked sharply and shook his head in disbelief,
"you weren't toying with me," he mused, then remarked: "you're just shy,",
your eyebrows raised, and your lips slightly parted - what was he on about?
"just- just shy...?" you repeated after him, hoping for clarification,
but your words fell on deaf ears, Riddler not even acknowledge you said anything,
"it seems some... clues... were misread," he told you and gave a strangely awkward and sheepish smile,
his hair was in his face from all the flailing he did just a few moments ago,
and for a moment he looked like a stupid, socially awkward teenage boy,
but then he ran a hand through his hair to fix it, and the harmless look of his was gone,
"but of course I understand," Edward spoke anew, his smug attitude back at play,
"after all, to desire me- The World's Greatest Everything," he gave another chuckle,
and shaking his head, he continued "that's ought to make one intimidated,",
he then pressed his fingers against his lips, musing: "but I suppose,",
"I can spare you stress and trouble of asking me out," he stated, smirking,
"so," he put his fingers together, "I accept your... awkward attempt of a confession,",
and your heart stopped at his words, but you knew all too well you couldn't talk him out of this newest delusion,
and so, you just swallowed and smiled nervously: "g-great... that makes me happy...",
Warnings: a little bit of misogyny, your house getting broken into, and a forced relationship
Everything was going well for you, you had found a nice house for a good price in a good neighborhood but soon after you moved in you noticed why the house was so cheap, the neighbors across the street were loud, like really loud, so much so that you dreaded when their son was home. Their son was home a lot more than they wanted, since they had to focus on college, and when they were yelling, it was easy to get distracted. One day while you were carrying in groceries the mom walked over to you with a kind smile and a plate covered in tinfoil.
"Hello welcome to the neighborhood," she said to you while you struggled to take in all the bags at once. "I was going to introduce myself earlier but my son has been giving me so much trouble."
"It's fine," you mumbled as you tried to open the door but were struggling so much with it since your hands were full. "Could you please help me?"
"Of course dear!" She said before unlocking your front door for you. "I was hoping that you would have dinner with me and my family tonight as a way to apologize for the noise."
"Um well," you said awkwardly while you set the bags down on the kitchen floor so you could put them away later. "I'm not sure since I don't know you that well."
"Oh but I must insist," she said while pushing the plate covered in tinfoil into your chest. "I feel terrible about not welcoming you to the neighborhood for so long and the ruckus that my family has been causing you!"
"Fine," you agreed as she finally wore you down since you felt bad for her since she seemed like a nice lady. "I'll have dinner with you and your family tonight."
"Okay then," she said happily before walking over to the front door with a smile. "Dinner is at 5:30 dress casual!"
And with that, she left while you stood there in the kitchen trying to process how you got yourself wrapped up in this mess. You went to your room after putting the cold stuff away so you could pick out an outfit to wear for dinner. 5:25 rolled around and you were standing at their front door trying to figure out how to knock since it seems like your body forgot how. Taking a deep breath you finally raised your fist to knock and then connect it to the door.
"You're here!" The mom said as she opened the door almost immediately after you knocked. "Thank you for coming my husband is upstairs getting my son right now, but sit down and make yourself comfortable!"
You sit down on her couch waiting there awkwardly as you wait for her to put the finishing touches on dinner. As you waited there silently you heard loud footsteps coming down the stairs along with angry mumbled words that you couldn't make out.
Oh god, what did I get myself into?
A boy who had an older man behind him came into view and you held your breath as you waited for the yelling but he just glared at you before sitting on the other end of the sofa while grumbling about how he didn't want to be at this dinner. He turned on the TV and just as he was about to change the channel his mother announced that dinner was ready.
"So what school do you go to?" The older woman asked you as you sat down to eat.
"I go to a college not far from here," you said as you waited for someone else to eat before touching your food. "That's why I moved here."
"Oh my son is in college to he wants to be in law enforcement and is going to university," she said while referring to her son who was eating before glaring at her. "He's about to graduate, what about you are you about to graduate?"
"No," you said while picking at the food in front of you. "I just started college this year."
As she took in that information you decided that it was time to try the food that she had made for you since you didn't want to be rude.
You got this just finish at least half of the food!
You put the fork to your mouth and ate a bite before wanting to spit it out from the heat. The food felt like it was burning your throat and the moment you swallowed it you tried to act nonchalantly when your mouth was on fire as you picked up your water and drank it as fast as you could. You could feel the tears in your eyes as you tried to finish at least half of the food.
Are these people even human?
"So what are you studying in college?" Your neighbor asked as she finished eating her food.
"Um," you tried to speak but your throat was on fire. "I'm studying to be a biologist or something like that so I don't have to be around people."
You finally finished half of the food after forcing it down your throat and threw the rest away so you could put the plate in the sink.
That was torture.
You drank another glass of tap water before joining the rest of the family in the living room so you could escape this hellhole.
"Thank you for having dinner with us," your neighbor said while hugging you as soon as you left the kitchen. "I noticed that you only ate half your food are you okay?"
"I guess I wasn't as hungry as I thought," You faked a laugh before trying to walk to the door. "Thank you for the food but I must get going-"
"HEY," your neighbor cut you off to yell at her son who was sitting on the couch watching TV. "You haven't said anything to our guest since she got here and she's about to leave!"
Her son turned to you with a glare before pulling up the corners of his mouth.
"Hi!" He growled before turning back to what he was watching.
"Well have a good night and I hope we can do this again another time and next time maybe you and my son can get to know each other better?" The older woman said before walking you to the door.
"Yeah," you lied, truthfully you hoped you would never have to deal with this family ever again and tonight would be the first and last time you would have to deal with them. "Maybe sometime in the future."
Once you said your goodbyes you went straight home and went to your room, vowing to stay as far away from that family as you could. Your mouth was still burning from dinner as you got ready for bed. As you were brushing your hair you looked out the window and saw the boy across the street taking out the trash with a scowl on his face, you immediately closed the curtains and finished your nightly routine before going to bed.
ENOUGH WITH THAT FAMILY!
Little did you know this was the start of a never-ending cycle. Avoiding your neighbors across the street was a lot easier than you thought it would be for the adults but their son was another story since every time you went outside you always saw him, going to your car because you forgot something and was only in your tiny night clothes well he was taking out the trash, checking the mail he was leaving to go somewhere, taking out the trash he was checking the mail! Even when you looked outside he was there mowing the lawn or working out which he liked to do shirtless! You wanted to make this stop but it seemed like every time you needed to go or looked outside he was there showing off how big his muscles were.
What is his deal?
As you were taking out the trash in your oversized blanket hoodie with your hair a mess you saw him getting something out of his car.
This is your moment tell him to stop stalking you!
You were about to go over there but something about him made you feel small and weak and you suddenly felt like maybe you didn't have to say anything to him about "stalking" you because maybe it was a coincidence.
"What?" You were pulled out of your head by a deep voice and realized you were staring at him this whole time.
"I...uh...." You said while looking at your front door. "Stop stalking me!"
You ran inside and felt stupid since he probably didn't know what you said and thought you were weird.
God damnit!
You were embarrassed and went to your room to try and forget about how embarrassing that encounter was, you fell asleep later that night and the next morning you woke up to the sound of music playing.
"What the hell?" You mumbled while looking at the time and seeing it was 10 AM before crawling out of bed to see who was playing music so loud.
You opened the curtains of your window and saw HIM across the street in shorts and nothing else, washing his car.
WHAT THE FUCK!
You were pissed and stormed out of your house and to where he was washing his car.
"WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?" You yelled over the music as you walked over to him.
"What do you mean?" He asked you with a smirk while turning down his music.
"Turn that off," you huffed while crossing your arms. "I'm trying to sleep!"
"I can tell," he laughed while pointing at your pink pajama pants with white lightning bolts and a blanket hoodie. "You really sleep in that?"
Just as you were about to say something his front door opened to reveal his mom.
"What's going on out here?" She said while looking at her son accusingly.
"Your son woke me up!" You said still pissed off at him.
"Oh, I'm so sorry about him do you want to come inside and have breakfast with us?" She asked you in an apologetic tone while glaring at her son.
"No thank you," you said in the nicest way possible. "I just want to go back to bed."
"Fine, I'll keep the music down princess," he rolled his eyes before going back to washing his car. "Happy?"
"Yes!" You said before turning around and storming back inside your house.
Later while you were typing an essay for one of your classes you heard a knock at your front door. You sighed loudly before getting up and seeing who it was and when you looked through the peephole hole you saw your neighbor and opened the door for her.
"I wanted to apologize for my son's behavior earlier but I have some good news for you!" She said apologetically at first before changing her tone to be more excited.
"What is it?" You asked in a suspicious tone as you looked her up and down.
"Well he has something to tell you," she said before turning around and looking over her shoulder. "GET OVER HERE AND TELL HER WHAT YOU WANTED TO SAY!"
You covered your ears since she was so loud and it hurt your ears when she yelled.
"Hey," you heard her son say once he walked over to you. "I'm sorry about my mom, did you want to go on a date?"
"NO!" You yelled before slamming the door on his face.
Later that night while you were getting ready for bed you heard a loud bang before the lights in your house went out.
What the fuck? It's probably just a raccoon or something.
Just as you were about to go check out the circuit breaker you heard the sound of glass breaking so you unlocked your window and jumped out before running in the middle of the road and calling the cops.
"911 what's your emergency?" The operator said in a tired voice.
"Someone just broke into my house I jumped out the window and now I'm in the middle of the street!" You said quickly into the phone hoping she would send someone fast.
"Okay where do you live and I'll send a cop there to go check it out?" The lady said sounding more alert this time.
Once you told her where you lived she told you to go stay at a neighbor's place while you wait for the cops. Looking at the house across from yours you took a deep breath before walking over to the door you turned around to look back at your house and saw someone standing on your doorstep making you bang as hard as you could on the door in front of you. As you knocked you heard someone say that they were coming but the person on your doorstep was running to you with something that you couldn't see in their hand.
"What's your deal?" As soon as you heard a voice you pushed yourself inside and closed the door. "WHAT THE FUCK?"
"Someone is trying to kill me!" You cried as all your neighbors stood in front of you in their houses.
"What are you talking about dear?" The woman asked as she looked at you in worry.
You explained what happened and once you were at the part where the lights were cut in the story you heard the police sirens coming. You met them outside and they checked your house and after what felt like forever they brought someone in a bunny costume out of your house with their hands behind their back.
"We found him hiding under your bed with a knife in his hands," the cop who wasn't holding the person explained while watching his partner put the killer in the cop car. "He was probably waiting until you came back in your house to jump out and kill you, but we caught him and we will take him down to the station just try to get some rest and we will be back in the morning to check on you."
You nodded your head and watched the cops drive away when you felt a large hand on your waist.
"I'll fix your window tomorrow morning," your neighbor boy said in your ear before leading you to his house. "In the meantime time why don't you sleep in our guest room?"
You nodded your head and went inside to sleep in the guest bedroom of your neighbor's house. Unsurprisingly you didn't get a lot of sleep that night and when you heard someone in the kitchen you decided that it was time to get up.
"Good morning," the older woman said while standing at the oven. "I just put the cinnamon rolls in the oven why don't you sit down?"
"Where's your son?" You asked noticing how quiet the place was since usually you were woken up by yelling at this time of morning.
"He went to get the stuff to fix your window," she said casually as she started making something else. "He should be back soon though."
"I didn't mention that my window was broken and I didn't mention that it was a window that was broken I didn't get that far in the story," you said as you thought back to last night and what you had said to this family. "So how does he know that A) my window needed to be fixed and B) it's a window that was broken and C) which window needed to be fixed since I have multiple shaped windows in the back of my house?"
"He looked this morning which one needed to be fixed," she said before taking out the cinnamon rolls. "I wouldn't think too hard about it."
That still doesn't explain how he knew last night?
You tried not to think about it and ate your breakfast but something inside you told you that something wasn't right.
"I'm back," you heard your neighbor boy say and the door closed behind him. "And I fixed the window, it was kinda complicated but I figured it out."
"Thank you both for your kindness," you started talking while getting up from the table as your gut told you to get the hell out of this house. "But I must be going now."
As you were about to head to the door your neighbor boy grabbed your arm and forced you to look at him.
"I want to talk to you outside," he didn't ask as he dragged you to the front door and both of you were now face to face on his front door step. "Look after last night I don't think it's a good idea for you to be all by yourself in a house like that, you need someone who can protect you."
"I'm okay I can protect myself," you said while looking over at your house wishing to just go home. "So thank you again for your help but I can manage from here!"
As you talked you saw a police car drive by and stop in front of your house before driving away.
"Look why don't I just stay the night at your place and see what happens?" He asked you with a sly smile while holding out his hand for you to take.
"I don't think that's a good idea!" You said quickly before walking to your house.
"It wasn't a question," you felt him roughly grab your wrist as you tried walking away from him. "I'm staying the night and you can't stop me!"
You looked at him in fear as you nodded your head and he walked you to your house. Once inside you set up the couch for him since you didn't have the guest room set up as a room.
"You're making me sleep on the couch?" He asked as he watched you set. It's up for later.
"Yeah," you said blankly as you didn't look up from watching you were doing. "I don't have the guest room set up as a room and there is no way that I'm going to sleep with you in my bed!"
"I think you're going to regret that decision so why don't you just go ahead and let me sleep in your bed and you can take the couch," he said with a smirk before looking you up and down and licking his lips. "Or maybe we can both sleep in your bed i know you have a pretty big bed no one that small should be in a bed that big It's like you want a man in your life that you a sleep with or cuddle or maybe fuck?" He whispered the last part in your ear and it made a chill go down your spine and gave you a gross feeling in your gut.
"That's not it," you said as you pushed him away from you. "Stop acting like you're my protector, I know you were behind the guy who broke into my house!"
"So what if I was it's not like anyone is going to believe you," he said in a low voice while walking back over to you. "And as long as you don't want anything to happen to you or your family you're going to be my wife and if you try to fight me on this I WILL cut off your legs!"
"You're insane!" You said while looking at him in utter fear.
"Don't be like that because if you think about it this is all your fault," he said while pinning you against the wall. "If you hadn't moved in or accepted my mom's invitation to dinner maybe you wouldn't be in this mess right now but now you're stuck with nowhere to go."
In these endings, it's more or less assumed Alastor has gotten out of his deal (if the route doesn't involve his owner)
One of the few routes that Alastor is the one to give himself up. While most (if not all) other routes just have Alastor "giving in" to the suitor of the route after they make him "snap" somehow, Alastor walks up to Vox and makes a deal.
A deal that would have Alastor in one of his worst personal Hell's.
Vox was the only one to have ever fooled Alastor about not being interested in him (romantically or sexually). When Vox came into his life, it was like Alastor had finally gained a full, no ulterior motives, platonic relationship. This did not last however as Vox had shown his true form which lead to Alastor's unease and avoidance of him.
But Alastor is tired. He just wants a friend, a friend not looking for anything else from him. At this point, he could not CARE if it was fake. As long as he could pretend, even if for a few measly hours, he'd take it.
That was always the lure with Vox. He was the only one in Hell that seemed to be able to fake not having an obsession with Alastor, to a frightening degree. In this route, Alastor gives into this luring and makes a deal for Vox to once again pretend to only be friends with him. In exchange, Vox could do whatever he liked to Alastor when not pretending to be his friend.
Unfortunately, the deal was made while Alastor was not exactly clear-headed. While sure in his choice to give himself to Vox, he needed something (a lot of something) to bolster himself to actual walk up to the TV Overlord. As a result, the deal was not made with the usual expertise that Alastor would have with his deals.
Vox for the first few months thrived. He kept Alastor in what was practically a cell, restrained in a relatively empty room. The only source of entertainment is Alastor himself and Vox. Due to the unspecified agreement of when Vox would act only as a friend to Alastor, those moments were far rarer than Alastor preferred. Instead, he was met with unwanted touches, belittlement, an uncomfortable amount of compliments, hitting, healing, pretty much anything without consistency. Anytime Vox DID act like he was a friend, Alastor embarrassingly ate it up despite knowing it wasn't real, despite feeling how much more taunting it was than warm.
Then, Vox came up with an agreement.
Vox would be Alastor's best friend every weekend. It felt so heavenly just to THINK about that idea for Alastor, who hasn't been able to have anything but suitors after him for all his time in Hell.
Alastor CRAVED friendship at this point, even a simple acquaintanceship would do just as nicely.
As for the rest of the week, however, Alastor would be Vox's everything. His lover, his pet, his toy, his anything. All he had to do was wait for the weekend.
Alastor didn't even need to think to agree to the proposal.
So Alastor was moved away with his "akin to a dungeon basement", and into a mock-up of a room Alastor would enjoy to be in. It was less modern and more roaring 20s to early 30s in style. Somewhere in the V-tower Alastor was sure, perhaps at the very top considering Vox allowed him to even continue his broadcasting!
The clocks were the most modern thing in Alastor's suite. Completely digital.
He thrived on the weekends. Vox gave no hint of wanting anything more out of Alastor other than companionship. They talked, drank, laughed, they even went out on the town to get dinners or look for some sad sap to star in Alastor's show.
Alastor never left his room without Vox. So he was often left waiting for him if he wanted to do anything outside of his room. There was nothing stopping Alastor from going out on his own. No order, not even a silent order or anything.
What was the point of going out if the whole point of putting himself in this situation was to escape from the obsessions of others?
Weekdays were Hell on Earth. Or Hell in Hell. Vox didn't hold his obsession back and had Alastor practically glued to his arm. The whiplash of sweet and soft moments to harsh belittlement made Alastor's head spin.
Sometimes Vox wanted to deliberately hurt and scar Alastor, sometimes he just wanted Alastor to lay in bed with him and pet Vox's head and nothing more, sometimes Vox assaulted him. Sometimes he'd bark at Alastor to like it ("Pretend you do like I do as your friend"), sometimes Vox gives no indication for Alastor to need to pretend. Vox gets possessive, but sometimes he doesn't mind sharing Alastor, particularly with Valentino. Sometimes Vox shares Alastor with more people, but only when Alastor is being bad. A rare occurrence. Sometimes he wants to treat Alastor like garbage, leashed to his desk, and forced onto the floor. Sometimes he just wants to spoil Alastor with things he likes.
Alastor doesn't like it when Vox spoils him with things Vox tells Alastor to like.
He even has his own special room he locks Alastor in sometimes. He doesn't like the room because of how downright creepy if feels. The dolls, the plushies, the pictures, anything everywhere was of Alastor himself. In that room, Alastor looks like just another one of Vox's paraphernalia.
Most of anything under the sun, good or bad, Vox does during the week.
Alastor's precious pocket watch was broken by Vox upon first acquiring Alastor. Something he couldn't care much about considering he was committing his life to a windowless, timeless room for the rest of his life. But when they had made the agreement, he only had the digital clocks.
Alastor always counts down the minutes until the weekend and shakes counting down the seconds to the week.
And if you'd like a possible glimpse into the everyday life of this route, you can check out this fic here. Please be wary of the dark themes as done here.
Waiting for the pharmacist to check my work when a thought hit me.....
What if Inho kidnapped Gihun, Junho, AND Gayeong before the 2nd season and forced them to play happy families?
Like, have Gaeyong call him papa and Junho play the son (because Inho helped raise him, and Gayeong needs a brother, right?) and Gihun play the role of the mother?
I think Gihun would lose his shit but might not be able to do much because his daughter is there with him and Junho is starting to realize that inho is more unhinged than he thought...
Read part one // Masterpost // Continued from here
THE LAST UPDATE WAS CHRISTMAS EVE LAST YEAR I AM SO SORRY AHHAHAHAHHAAHHAHA- OHHHHHH you poor people, here you go
***
Kit woke on the couch. His brain lethargic and cold as if he just downed a milkshake and a pint of ice cream and was suffering the brain freeze after. He hissed as a pulse ran through his head, his skull thumping, like something was trying to claw its way out. He moaned but it only agitated the beast in his brain further. He pulled the throw blanket tighter over his body as he blinked open bloodshot blue eyes, glancing around the room he was in. The library, study looking room— like the type he saw in Maya’s favourite period dramas.
Stupid fucking posh boy Nathan prick–
“Ah, you’re awake, are you?” A smooth voice asked. Kit shot up, suddenly wide awake. He couldn’t stop the dizziness, or the nausea, or the pain from the pulse in his skull again and he cursed, squeezing his eyes shut as he clasped his temple. Which was not a smart thing to do around the city’s newest Supervillain.
“Something wrong?” Kit flinched back with a shocked curse at how close Nathan’s voice was, not helping with any of his symptoms as he retreated against the couch cushions, gripping the royal red blanket in one hand like a weapon. Silver eyes observed him coolly before Nathan reached out.
Kit recoiled but there was nowhere for him to go as Nathan pinched Kit’s chin between his forefinger and thumb, turning his head left and right, inspecting it like a disappointed scientist with his most recent failed experiment.
Nathan pushed Kit’s head back and rubbed something wet on Kit’s arm as he stood with a sigh. Kit glanced down and saw bright red, oily blood. Blood? Kit reached his hand up tentatively to his face. Blood ran from his nose and coated his lips and must have dripped onto the villain’s hand while he was inspecting Kit.
“I was hoping to have more fun with you today,” Nathan muttered, irritated, running a hand through his hair as he turned his back to the hero. Kit watched him wearily, tilting his head back slightly and pinching his nose to try and stem the flow of blood. He didn’t understand. Couldn’t this bitch heal people? Why wasn’t he— “Yes,” Nathan interjected and Kit stiffened. He forgot the bastard could read his thoughts. “I can heal you. But the most plausible reason for your nosebleed is that your brain has been subjected to too much mental strain.”
“You don’t think it could have been your attack dog throwing me down the stairs or beating me yesterday, no?” Kit snapped, but there was no real bite to it. Despite his forced sleep he was exhausted. He hated how he always woke from it too, sluggish and tired like he had a restless night’s sleep, but this time was ten times worse, like a hangover after a pub crawl. Fuck…
Nathan looked over his shoulder at Kit and pinned him to the spot with his dead eyed smile. “You’re so lucky I can’t hurt you right now, little Hero.”
It should have been a relief, but the words sent shivers down Kit’s spine. “What? … I mean, I’m not complaining but—”
Nathan scoffed and paced up to the large windows that overlooked the green, perfectly maintained garden – or grounds, Kit should say.
“You are so clueless. I don’t know how Oskar finds anything likeable about you.”
“Why?” Kit asked before he had the sense to stop himself. “Jealous, prick?”
In a flash Nathan was in front of Kit again, silver eyes the darkest Kit had seen them, darker than concrete, or gunmetal or slate and Kit jumped back with a primal fear. His legs suddenly under him, pushing him up and his arse on top of the sofa’s back, his back hitting the wall, hands up ready to defend himself. The movement was too quick, too sudden and a wrathful ringing shot from his spine into his skull and Kit cried out, slumping forward.
A hand grabbed his wrist while another grabbed his shirt and pulled him down onto the couch again as Kit made sounds of groaning protest mixed with hisses and gasps. Nathan jerked him forward and slammed him down, so he was forced to lie flat on the sofa again.
Metal eyes swirled with malice that — to Kit’s shock and horror — was the second scariest thing happening to him at that moment. “Fucking lie down, and stay down,” Nathan hissed.
Kit frowned up at the villain, the shrieking pulse attack dying down the less he moved as he stared up in confusion. Nathan didn’t use his abilities to compel him to stay down. He seemed to do everything in his power to show off his abilities, so why not now? The answer was there somewhere, in his mind, he knew it, but he couldn’t seem to reach it, it was too far away or obscured by heavy steel wire bristles with the consistency of cotton and the opaqueness of marshland fog. The more he tried to reach for the answer, the harsher the pain flared.
Nathan stepped back once he sent a warning look to Kit, and Kit didn’t really have any fight in him to protest his forced position. Not that he wanted to either. It seemed to be the only thing that didn’t jostle his brain like it was thrown in a washing machine.
Once Kit’s pain subsided, he silently took in the villain by the fireplace. He turned his back to Kit again, refusing to show him any expression that may flitter across his features, but his muscles were wound tightly, his grip on the mantel piece white knuckled as he stared into the flames licking against wood. Kit glanced at the fire itself and groaned as a thin blade of pain stabbed into his eyes and raced into his skull like he was having a migraine.
He lifted the blanket and threw it over his head before he asked from beneath the covers, “where’s Rosey?”
He heard a huff of annoyance, and then a disgruntled: “he’s in work.”
Kit frowned. He knew that obviously Ambrose had to work, and he must have a good job from how big his fucking house is, but it made him seem more… human. Less monstrous. Still, Nathan knew Ambrose, so maybe this was a time for Kit to get some information on his past tormentor…
Wait, past tormentor? Are you forgetting that he forced us to sleep here the last time we saw him?
The thought swirled in his mind like a plug being released from a sink, the water glugging and hypnotic to watch as it rushed down the drain. Ambrose was the reason Kit was here in the first place… well, no, that’s not true either. Kit’s a hero, it’s his job to fight villains and he knows the consequences can sometimes be… uncomfortable. Like daily torture and being held against his will, he knew well enough from Omen, but—
If Ambrose is such a bad person, why does he insist on staying here with a man he clearly dislikes?
Kit groaned as his thoughts sped through his mind, bombarding him with too many questions and no answers. If his thoughts could pick a side whether Ambrose was good or not that would be helpful, but he couldn’t even force himself to think, his brain felt like it was burning over a cold fire and he just wanted to sleep.
“Uh,” Kit began, licking his lips. He winced at the sound of his voice echoing in his skull. God he could really do with some painkillers. “So, what does Ambrose do?”
Nathan scoffed. “You don’t know?”
“Well, we’re not exactly best friends.”
“And yet he’s willing to stay here with a man he ‘clearly dislikes’ for you,” Nathan repeated, his tone hard. Kit sighed. The mind reading shit was getting exhausting. Maybe he should just think instead of speaking from now on since all these bastards can hear his thoughts anyways.
He heard Nathan sigh. Then footsteps approach. He peeled the blanket down and peered over the edge to keep the villain in his sights. But Nathan wasn’t really paying him any attention. Instead, he walked towards the armchair where Rosey sat yesterday and settled into it heavily, smoothing the lines on his forehead with his fingers.
He looked… tired. Not as menacing as before.
“I can still kill you, Kit, don’t push me.”
“If you kill me, then Rosey leaves,” Kit replied softly. Curious silver eyes met his blue and frowned. “And I know you don’t want that.”
Nathan sighed again. “No. You’re right. I don’t.” He raised his chin to inspect Kit, his gaze roaming Kit’s face critically before something changed in his features and he leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his thighs and clasping his hands between his knees.
“But you know what? I think we could help each other, you and I.”
“Why would I ever help you?” Kit asked, genuinely baffled. Was this man okay? I mean, obviously not but…
Nathan tilted his head, a smirk on his lips. “Well, you want to know more about Oskar, and so do I. I’ve been out of his life for years, I don’t know what kind of person he has become, and you don’t know what he was like years ago.”
“You mean, you want me to give you information on him so you can manipulate him easier?”
A storm flashed across Nathan’s face like lightning and disappeared just as quickly. Kit’s heart jumped in his chest for the moment it was there, and he hated himself for being so fearful of the giant fuck in front of him.
“Not manipulate,” Nathan hummed, amused now as he leaned back in the armchair. “More like… elucidate me on what kind of things he’s interested in now. I only want what’s best for Oskar.”
“Okay, well I don’t know what elucidate means, dickhead, but if you really wanted what’s best for Ambrose, you’d let him make his own decisions, and not have to hold me hostage to get him to be near—”
Too far.
Kit had gone too far.
In a blink a hand wrapped around his throat and slammed him further down into the couch, until Kit felt the wooden frame beneath the cushion dig into his spine. A burst pulse beat strummed through Kit’s nerves, and he gasped but there was no air as Nathan tightened his fingers around Kit’s neck. Kit grabbed his wrist, clawing at it with his nails but Nathan didn’t seem to care, not even when Kit drew blood.
“Just give me a reason, you child. One fucking reason to keep you alive. I have plenty for why you should die.”
Kit gasped and writhed under the villain, bringing his legs up to kick at him, but Nathan batted them away easily and climbed on top of Kit, continuing to choke him until Kit’s eyes began to roll back.
Rosey… hate you… I die… Kit forced himself to think as his vision blackened around the edges. Fuck. Fuck! He was going to die. Nathan was going to kill him and he’d never be able to tell everyone who the real Supervillain was; he’d never be able to clear Mentor’s name and– Oxygen rushed into him and he gasped, his voice rasping desperate coughs as he sucked in too much air at once, wheezing as he grabbed his throat gently and tried to soothe the bruises that were no doubt starting to form already.
Nathan’s lips turned up in disgust as Kit struggled to catch air in his lungs and regulate it around his body again. “You are nothing,” Nathan hissed, leaning down until his face was inches from Kit’s. Kit tried to turn away but Nathan grabbed his cheeks and turned him back to face the monster above him. “Do you understand? Oskar will get bored of you, like he gets bored of all his toys and throw you away when you seize to be entertaining.”
Kit coughed, his eyelids fluttering as he tried to focus his gaze. “Yeah,” he rasped. “Is that what he did to you?”
The punch wasn’t expected. Instead of going for his head, Nathan slammed his fist down into Kit’s gut, between his ribs and he curled up on instinct, expelling whatever breath he for too short a time with an oomph.
“I can’t hurt you, Kit, but that doesn’t mean I can’t find other ways to make you suffer.”
Kit curled around himself, trying to quiet his thoughts, but he couldn’t help wondering what the hell Nathan thought a punch was if it didn’t fall within the realm of hurt.
Nathan clicked his tongue against his teeth as he looked down at Kit and shook his head before climbing off him. He didn’t get much relief because in the next moment Nathan grabbed Kit by the arm and yanked him off the couch. Unprepared to be dragged and with his legs still caught in the blanket, Kit yelped as Nathan dragged him off the couch, his knees, thankfully, hitting the ground first before Kit could slam headfirst onto the wood.
“You’re fucking pathetic,” Nathan snarled as Kit slammed his free hand out to catch his upper body while Nathan kept a firm grip of his other arm. “Get up.”
“Okay, alright. Just give me – ngh fuck, okay!”
Kit crashed into Nathan’s torso as he yanked the hero up suddenly. Kit put his free hand out to grab Nathan’s shirt and steady himself on his feet. The world spun in colours of deep forest green and dark mahogany floors and the burning, searing heat of the flames coiled within Kit’s stomach, mixing with nausea, threatening to climb his throat and spew its contents if he wasn’t careful.
He screwed his eyes shut as he gripped the giant’s shirt in a white knuckled grip and tried to catch his breath. Something warm dripped over his lips but he was too overwhelmed to realise what as he panted, “please, just give me… gimme a minute, please.”
Nathan didn’t reply, but he didn’t yank Kit again which he was grateful for. “You’re pathetic.”
“Yeah, you’ve said,” Kit replied, trying to stand upright on his own, but it wasn’t working very well. His legs felt like they were new, and hadn’t been used yet, still trying to adapt to his body. When he finally managed to open his eyes, he saw a pool of blood on the floor below him and he frowned. Blood… what… what the fuck have they done to him? Why was his nose still bleeding? He didn’t…
He lifted his head slowly to look into Nathan’s face. His jaw was clenched, eyes hard, and he looked like he wanted to beat the shit out of Kit, but there was something else too. Something concerning him, but when Kit tried to search for the answer his brain flared like throwing flour onto a fire and Kit cried out.
Something solid went under him, keeping him up and for a moment Kit thought he was back on the couch, but he was still holding Nathan’s shirt, grasping it tightly. Nathan stepped in and grabbed the skin under Kit’s eye and pulled the eyelid down, while pulling the top one up. He frowned and stepped back, dropping contact and turned away, running his hands through his hair and sighed.
“Fucking babysitting… this is not what I had in mind when I agreed to let you stay here,” he seethed, but not to Kit. The solid weight holding Kit up tilted him back slightly, pushing against Kit’s calves until he was sitting on an invisible chair in the air. Distantly Kit realised it was Noble’s power Nathan was using to pick him up, and he wanted to be sick. “The things you do for love, hmm?”
Kit blinked stupidly as Nathan headed for the door and started carrying him along, his hand splayed as he levitated Kit to follow him. Kit groaned as the world passed in his periphery vision, making him queasy. He closed his eyes at the motion, listening to Nathan grumble about he had to look after Kit, as if it was an inconvenience that Kit broke under the strain of the mental torture Nathan and Jude put him under.
And Ambrose.
Kit frowned at the voice in his head. The one that sounded suspiciously like his own. Just angrier. No, no… Rosey was protecting him, he was helping him.
Your nose didn’t bleed until Ambrose commanded you again, right?
A deep furrow formed between Kit’s brows, blaring the pounding of his headache. No, he answered. No, Rosey was trying to protect me from whatever Nathan was going to do.
Yeah, the voice snickered viciously. Keep telling yourself that. God… you’re exactly what he wants you to be, you know that? You’re his perfect little puppet now, so wrapped up in his strings that he’s got you thinking you can still have independent thoughts, draw your own conclusions. That you have a choice; free will.
“I can,” Kit mumbled, reaching his hand up to his temple. A hiss escaped his mouth at the heat from his temple mixed with the freezing temperature of his hand.
See? Not even any blood in your hand, just empty, hollow wood. Perfect to mould.
“Shut up,” Kit said listlessly, his voice coming out barely above a whisper. Grey eyes appeared in front of him and Kit blinked, trying to focus. Lips moved above him, and someone was speaking but he couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of his heart and the voice in his head.
But Ambrose already made you into what you are, didn’t he?
“’m not… ‘m me…” Kit protested.
Grey eyes flashed red and Kit jerked back as the world slowly melted away, leaving him face to face with the same eyes that terrified him more and more everyday he saw them.
Kit’s face peered down at him and grinned wolfishly, like he could just devour Kit in a single bite. Kit flinched back but he didn’t get far. The red eyed version of Kit smiled wider as he started circling Kit. Kit’s breathing picked up as he tried to turn and keep the red eyed monster in sight, but he couldn’t move. His body too weak to obey him, to listen to him.
“Look at you,” the other Kit said, his voice distorted as if spoken through an old radio, his voice booming like lightning strikes smashing the ground. “So vulnerable. Your precious Rosey just left you like this, Kit.”
“S-shut up,” Kit managed, trying to get any vantage point but his body wouldn’t respond. Why wasn’t Nathan saying anything? Surely, he could see this other Kit too, right? Unless… unless he was doing this, getting into Kit’s head trying to make him see–
Kit threw his head back and screamed as a searing heat dug right between his eyes. The pain was blinding, scorching any remnant thoughts in his head except the need to get away, to escape the pain.
“Would you look at that…”
Kit grasped his chest as his heart boomed too fast in his chest, his cheeks were wet, but with blood or tears he couldn’t tell. What was going on? He… he…
“I can touch you, isn’t that interesting, Kitty-kat?”
All heat vanished from Kit’s body at the words as those red eyes appeared in front of him again. He didn’t know what to do, how to fight something in his head, but he knew someone who spent far too long inside it and he reached out.
“A-Ambrose,” he whispered desperately. The scorching hand slammed its palm against Kit’s skull, and it seemed to go through it and set off the inferno in his brain.
“Naughty, naughty Kit. You’re not playing fair. This is between me and you,” the other thing purred, but Kit could sense the irritation in its distorted voice. “But fine. I’ll take your Rosey out first if I must, and then I’ll come back for your body, hmm?”
The world seemed to collapse on top of Kit, darkness descended like a shutter on his vision as the world dimmed, but before Kit was swallowed, he heard his mirrored voice speak again; “and I’ll make sure to leave better marks than Ambrose did on your body, trust me.”
Kit went limp, dead weight in Nathan’s hold and he stared, mercury eyes narrowed. Jude panted next to him, hands on his knees. “Did you hear anything?” Jude asked, straightening. “Fuck… I’m too hungover for this kid, Nate.”
“No,” Nathan growled. “All I heard was static.”
“But that’s not… the kid was only able to resist you when you used Ambrose’s power right? He wasn’t immune to mine.”
Nathan pressed two fingers to Kit’s pulse and waited, despite the heat radiating from the boy’s body. A weak rhythm rose to meet Nathan’s fingers, but when he pulled them away two impressions of his fingerprints were left. Two little milky ovals surrounding by angry red skin like Kit was sunburnt.
“What do we do? We can’t heal him.” Jude said, walking around the far side of Kit’s limp form. Nathan ran a hand through his hair and turned away, cursing.
“We call Oskar.”
*****
Continued here
Tag-list [lmk if you wanna be added/removed}: @beatenbruisedandbloody @404lunar1216 @whumpyworld @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer
