Megumi Fushiguro X F!reader, 5.9k

megumi fushiguro x f!reader, 5.9k

THEMES: established relationship, time skip au w aged up characters, non-canon compliant bc they deserve happy endings and canon is merely a guideline, implied smut

SUMMARY: you miss your boyfriend. the way to handle it? dissuade him from his stupid game addiction in a thousand silly ways.

A/N: this is very unserious i’m sorry. also this is a repost of another fic i deleted…... yikes !

GAME START

You wouldn’t call yourself a video game hater.

It would be so hypocritical of you, when you’ve played games here and there. When you were a kid, your mom had bought you one of those Nintendo DS consoles, and you’d been just as obsessed with Cooking Mama like every other kid in your neighborhood. Even in recent years, you’d played some popular ones, like Mario Kart, with your friends.

You’re just not in love with it. Not like Itadori, or Inumaki or Fushiguro were.

There were other things you were more interested in, more relaxing things that didn’t involve so much violence at three in the morning. Like watching Netflix. Online shopping. Peaceful, healthy, productive.

But hey, who were you to judge?

Your lives as jujutsu sorcerers were stressful, taking so much of your free time—if your friends felt like killing pixel monsters on their little PC screens until the sun rose was relaxing, they were absolutely valid for it.

You don't think it’s helping Megumi, though.

Megumi needs sleep. Loves it, even. Despite his cold exterior, Megumi’s actually the opposite; he’s cute and cuddly. Like a cute, cuddly bear. And like a bear, he hibernates too. When you guys get rare, well-earned breaks, Megumi often forgoes going out just so he can sleep the time away. He even takes naps in the afternoon after lunch, and you’ve lost count of how many times Kugisaki has attacked him for taking so long to get up in the mornings and making them late to missions.

And yet, he squanders the time he could be sleeping to play video games.

You don't get it. Video games can be super fun, you know from experience, but to lose sleep over it? How relaxing can a game be, when all it does is leave you tired and grumpy in the morning?

Normally, you like to mind your own business when it comes to the things your friends like to do in their personal time, but you find yourself wanting to convince Megumi against his current methods of de-stressing.

But Megumi is a surprisingly complex creature.

(To others, of course. He is simple to you because you’re well-versed in his silly little ways.)

If you want to dissuade Megumi from video games, you have to be smart about it. You have to play it cool, lest Megumi catches on and becomes stubborn about it. You’ll be smooth about this. You’ll be cooler than cool about it. Chill. Yeah.

Yeah.

RESULT:

YOU: 0 VIDEO GAMES: 0

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ROUND ONE

The first part of your fool-proof plan (the fool being Megumi) was to straight up annoy your target into giving up on his video games.

You cooly stand by the threshold of Megumi’s room. Your hands are in your pocket. You’re freshly showered, which you want to emphasise for reasons. Reasons: you’re fresh, relaxed, ready to engage and be annoying.

Megumi hasn’t even noticed you. He’s got those large headphones like a real gamer, and his fingers are angrily typing over his keyboard.

Perfect, you think. He’s already agitated.

You smile to yourself, covering your mouth lest anyone accuses you of being evil. You straighten up and begin your move.

You clear your throat.

Megumi doesn’t acknowledge you. Hmm.

You clear your throat again, this time louder, and still—Megumi doesn’t even give you a single glance. Wow.

You feel your hackles rise at being ignored. It’s kind of rude of Megumi to not even acknowledge you. Is his video game really that important?

Maybe you should scare him.

You don't even need to tiptoe your way to where he’s sitting at his computer desk. You walk up to him and even stand behind him for a good moment without being noticed. You shake yourself, getting ready to give Megumi a good scare—

Megumi screams.

The sudden scream sends you jumping in the air and toppling onto the floor. With your heart pounding in your chest and your whole body lying on the floor, you see Megumi throw his headphones in rage, cussing, “That fucking bastard—“

Megumi stops mid-sentence. His brows raise, and he tilts his head to the side in question, “Hey. What are you doing down there?”

You feel absolutely pathetic and try not to show it as you push yourself up from the ground. “I’ve been calling your name all this time and you were ignoring me.”

Megumi blinks before averting his eyes in embarrassment, “Oh. I had noise-cancelling headphones on.” He turned to look back at you, his mouth puckered like the little carat sign on the keyboard. He extends a hand to you, ”Sorry.”

You exaggerate your pout, “What are you sorry to me for?”

Megumi pouts too, and you think that it’s so unfair how affected you are about it. Like your entire world just shifted, moving to focus on Megumi’s pout and do everything you can to alleviate what’s causing it. Megumi flutters his lashes, swaying your joined hands together, and in a cute voice that you swear never used to affect you before: “For not noticing you. You should have tapped me on the shoulder or something. If I had known—“

God, you swear it’s because you’re newly dating. It’s the honeymoon period that has you cooing, utterly swayed, “And if you had known, what? Would you have stopped gaming for me?”

Megumi smiles so sweetly, you can already tell the answer was going to be—

“You wouldn’t, huh?” you say, the smile dropping from your face. You drop his hand in faux disappointment and ask, “What’s more important, Fushiguro Megumi? Video games or your girlfriend?”

Megumi complains, “Why would you ask me this?”

You close your eyes and feel the disappointment for real this time. “I can’t believe this,” you whine, “My boyfriend would choose gaming over me. I understand. I see—“

“Babe, stop sulking, you know you’re important to me—”you keep your eyes closed, but you can feel Megumi’s arms loop around your neck, “Don’t be mad—”

Okay, you're not that disappointed, and you’re definitely not mad. But still, you don’t let up until Megumi’s pressed you against his bed and given you a thousand and one kisses. Your plan failed today, but it doesn’t mean you have to lose completely.

To be yourself, means to never give up (or something like that). You’ll try another day.

RESULT:

YOU: 0 VIDEO GAMES: 1

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ROUND TWO

Okay, take two - the first part of your fool-proof plan (the fool being yourself) was to seduce your target into giving up on video games.

You think this plan is better than the OG one. What were you thinking? Megumi wrote the playbook on being stubborn, and for once, you think you can leave being number one to someone else. You have bigger fish to fry, or however the saying goes.

Anyway - so you stand again at the threshold of Megumi’s room. You’re all cool, with your hands in your pockets. You’re freshly showered, which you want to emphasize for new reasons. Reasons being: you’re fresh, relaxed, ready to sex Megumi up.

Like last time, Megumi hasn’t noticed you standing by the door. He’s too busy, once again, being a real gamer, and his fingers, once again are flying angrily over his keyboard.

Perfect, you think. He’s already so heated.

This time, you forgo subtlety. Megumi loves it when you take charge.

You go over and wrap your arms around his tense shoulders, and Megumi ends up jolting so hard in surprise he uppercuts your chin with his hard head.

Once more, you’re on the floor again. This time, clutching your jaw.

“Babe!” Megumi exclaims in worry, throwing his headphones off in a flurry. He crouches down and cradles your jaw in his careful hands, “Are you okay? Why does this keep happening to you? Do you like being on the floor?”

You’re a little teary eyed and trying to hold it back. This isn’t the crying you were imagining when you came to Megumi’s room. You thought it would be a little sexier than this. A little less pathetic. You moan (in pain, you note sadly), “Why are you lecturing me?”

“Because,” Megumi caresses your jaw, “How could you surprise me like that? And now you’re hurt. You know it hurts me when you’re hurt.” Megumi pouts, “My baby. Should I kiss it better?”

You soak the attention up and point at your jaw. You nod, pouting, “Yes. Kiss it here.”

Megumi presses a kiss against your jaw, “Mwah.” When he pulls back, his eyes are crescents, “There. All good now.”

You make a noise and point to another spot, your chin this time, “This part hurts too.”

“I’ll kiss it too,” Megumi says, closing his eyes and pressing a kiss against your chin too. “Mwah. That one should be healed too.”

It’s a little insane, but you literally feel the pain go away with the touch of his lips. Is this the power of love or some shit? You used to be a non-believer, but damn. Maybe that shit truly heals.

It’s kind of addicting. You point to several parts of your face, and Megumi indulges you, pressing kiss after kiss until heat blooms between you two.

Swallowing your own anticipation, you finally point to your lips. “It hurts,” you say, sadly, “Could you kiss it better too?”

“It really hurts?” Megumi says slowly, biting his lip. His eyes focused solely on your mouth. “Or do you just want a kiss?”

“I always want a kiss from you, Megumi,” you bait, though the words are as honest as an admission. Megumi flushes pink at your words, and you feel your want double, triple knowing you’re the cause of it. “But it really does hurt. And I need you to kiss it. To make it all better—”

Megumi kisses you before you can even finish your sentence. You make a pleased noise, as you hook your arm around his shoulders, pulling him down to get him closer. Megumi moans, and you swallow it with a parted mouth. Megumi’s tongue is still shy as it licks into your mouth, meeting your tongue in tentative strokes. It’s cute. Megumi is so cute, it makes you kinda ill with desire.

You hook your leg around his hip and roll your bodies until it’s Megumi on the ground, looking pretty underneath you. You slide your knee in between his legs and feel heat when it presses against his growing bulge, “What about you, babe? Are you hurting anywhere? Is there anywhere I can kiss better?”

Megumi nods.

Because you can’t help it, you tease further, “Could you show me where?”

Megumi juts his bottom lip as he grinds against you, “You always make me say it.”

“I’m not a mind reader,” you say, tracing the swell of his lip. “You need to say what you want, so I know exactly what to do.”

Megumi looks away from you for a moment, as if unable to handle your gaze. His cheeks are a deepening pink, and you decide you love it over the heated flush he had on earlier when he was gaming. When he turns back, he seems to have gathered his courage. His gaze doesn’t waver as he takes your hand and presses it to his stomach, as he carefully slides your hands together underneath the waistband of his pants.

“Here,” Megumi says, voice low in a way that it rarely ever is, “I want you to kiss me here.”

So you do, and then some.

Later, when you’ve both migrated to his bed, sweaty and sated and close to the cliff of sleep, you feel like a winner. Having Megumi makes you a winner all the same, of course, but today, you triumph over your current enemy. Video games.

Your plan is a success. Finally, you can move on to step two, which is to make this into a routine. Sure, it’s going to be tiring, but you think it’s a sacrifice you’ll be very happy to—wait.

You feel Megumi shift carefully from where he was spooning you. Your little backpack, gone. A hand runs through your hair, lips press against your cheek, and then nothing. The heat you were getting accustomed to disappears. The bed shifts—and you realise he’s getting up. Any hope you have that it’s just him getting water or going to the bathroom disappears when you hear the tell-tale sound of a computer booting up.

God, did you not fuck him properly? Should you have gone for Round 2? What kind of stamina does a guy who just got railed within an inch of their life have, for him to not only stay awake after, but also to go back and log on to their computer to game?

You’re missing something here. You’ve seriously misunderstood the hold video games have on your boyfriend. You need to regroup. You need to rethink this.

But first—you must recuperate.

RESULT:

YOU: 0 VIDEO GAMES: 2

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ROUND THREE

You have recovered. Somewhat. Your ego is down bad, but it’s okay. Your war against video games in general is not over. You just need a better strategy, but before you can formulate that, you must first gather intel.

And who better to gather intel from than another gamer?

You stand at the threshold of a room. Another room. This time, it’s Itadori’s.

(Okay, you thought about asking Inumaki, but god knows, if given the choice between a brand new PS5 or his girlfriend, he would definitely choose the former. You’re not being mean. You’re just telling the truth.)

Anyway, you clear your throat, and as expected from the most angelic member of your friend group, Itadori turns to address you immediately.

“Oh, it’s you,” Itadori calls out from his bed. He’s laying against a pile of pillows as he plays on his nintendo switch. “What’s up?”

You shrug, putting your hands in your pocket. You know, for the spirit of nonchalance. You walk on over and casually sit on his bed. Or at least, you try to. It’s rather difficult considering the insane amount of pillows. You feel like you’re going to topple over and fall on the ground. Which has been happening quite often lately. Too often, if somebody were to ask you.

You lean over to take a peek at what he’s playing, “Nothing. Just wanted to see what my bestie is up to.”

Itadori hums, “I’m just playing Stardew Valley. It’s a farming game.”

You watches as Itadori’s character murders a bunch of bats in what looks like a cave. “Kind of violent,” you comment. “I thought you were farming. Aren’t you supposed to be toiling the land? Sowing some seeds? Harvesting?”

“I did that earlier,” Itadori says, as his character drops a bomb and kills a mummy. His fingers move like a real expert. A real gamer. You suppose there is something amazing about gamers. There’s a sense of professionalism in the way he plays, you can see that. “You can do a lot of things. It’s really involved. You can just do a day and then quit. I like it. You can really just do what you want.”

“Oh!” you say with interest. “So it’s not addicting at all. And it’s calming?” Itadori nods. “Can you play it on the PC? Or do you have to play it on the Switch?”

“You can play it on the PC,” Itadori explains, before taking a moment to pause the game. He turns to you, giving his full attention with a teasing grin. “Is this for Fushiguro?”

You roll your eyes, “Yes. It’s Valentine’s soon. I was going to buy him clothes, but I always get him that.” Shyly, you continue, “It’s our first Valentine’s together… so I wanted to do something different.”

“He usually likes those shooting games more though,” Itadori says. “Why don’t you ask Inumaki-san instead for advice?”

You grumble, “I always ask him for advice. Also, I don’t think those violent games are good for Megumi.”

Itadori gasps, a move that’s teasing too, “Wow… I didn’t think you were the controlling type.”

“I’m not!” you bristle at the accusation, “I am just a very concerned girlfriend.”

“Mhmm,” he hums, dubious, and you feel the teasing hit a surprisingly sensitive spot. You frown, “Am I being controlling? I just want him to stop playing so many video games so he can sleep properly.”

Itadori coos, and in a loud cutesy voice, he says, “Really? Really? Fushiguro is so lucky to have a caring girlfriend—”

“Really?” Another voice joins in the teasing. When you look, you see that it’s the man of the hour.

Itadori laughs when he sees who it is, “Oh? Who’s here? It’s our cutest—”

“Shut up,” Megumi grumbles, walking over to you, “What are you two yapping about now? I can hear your voice all the way from the bathroom.”

“You can hear us from the bathroom?” you ask, working hard to keep your voice even. “Megumi, are you sure you closed the door?”

Megumi gives you a betrayed look, but he still attempts to join you in bed, leaning his head onto your lap like a little house cat. He wraps an arm around your waist, just as your fingers move to play with his hair.

Itadori looks at you two with a bright, cheeky smile and you already know he has something to say before he even says it, “You guys are so cute. Making me third wheel on my own bed.”

Megumi rolls his eyes, “What are you guys doing? Are you playing that game again?”

“You know Stardew Valley?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Megumi says, “I’ve seen him play it a couple times. Never did get the appeal though. How are you enjoying just farming every day? Isn’t it repetitive?”

Itadori is passionate as he defends it, “No! I think you would really like it if you give it a chance. You get to help people rebuild the town. You make friends with villagers. You give them gifts. You can do missions for them. You can even romance them—”

“Oh?” For some reason, that is what piques Megumi’s attention. “Can you marry them too?”

Itadori affirms, “Yup! You can choose from 8 different people. If you play it, I recommend you romance Alex.”

“Why?” you blurt out, which has Megumi smiling up at you.

“Because,” Itadori says, as he shows Alex’s character on the Switch. “He’s kinda thick. All beefed up. I think he’d be your type, Fushiguro.”

Megumi’s hand is playing with your fingers as he asks, “And how do you know what my type is?”

Itadori smiles, “Well, because I’m confident you have excellent taste—“

And then he promptly puts a hand on your shoulder and flashes you a little wink.

For a moment, you’re all silent as you try to digest the moment. For a moment, you feel kinda objectified but simultaneously very sexy.

The moment ends with Megumi slapping his hand away. If you’re being honest, you’re a little turned on at the show of possessiveness. This is a side Megumi rarely shows, and you’re kind of super into it.

Megumi clears his throat, trying to clear the air. In a light voice, he says, “Send me the link. I’ll go play.”

RESULT:

YOU: 1 VIDEO GAMES: 2

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ROUND FOUR

You end up getting Megumi a Nintendo Switch instead for Valentine’s.

You’d spent the extra money to get it properly gift wrapped too. It was worth it for the way Megumi carefully opened it, trying not to ruin the wrapping paper, even as you told him to just tear through it.

You spent money on this, Megumi pouted as he made sure the tape didn't tear the paper.

You pinched his cheek and teased, Baby, I spent more on the gift.

But you were so endeared that you forgot all about the wrapping paper when Megumi gasped as he finally saw what it was.

Y/N! Megumi said, throwing himself at you and pressing kisses all over your face. I love it. I’ll play it well.

Okay, okay—you know you’ve had this imaginary beef with video games, but Megumi really does love playing them. And you cannot resist the idea of making him happy.

Plus you do have a tiny bit of a hidden agenda with the Nintendo Switch. You thought about how Itadori had been playing his in bed versus how Megumi has to sit at his desk, away from bed, to play his games. You think the Nintendo Switch would be better then, because he could play video games in bed, and you could still hold him.

It feels like a compromise. A win-win situation. You want to pat yourself on the back for thinking of such a smart plan. Actually, you know what, you’re patting your back right now. Yeah!

Reality tells a different story though.

When you join Megumi in his bed for a cuddle, you find Megumi playing Stardew Valley on his Switch. Nothing wrong with that. You actually got him that game to play on the Switch instead.

It’s just that… you want a little attention. It’s been one mission after the other, so you’ve been a little stressed. You’ve all been, and you mentioned it before, how you all have your ways of coping. Megumi’s is playing video games. Yours is usually watching Netflix, listening to calming music, or even aromatherapy.

But you already looked through what Netflix had to offer and nothing. You looked through your usual playlists and nothing. You lit a candle and just blew it out. Right then, you knew what you wanted. Him.

You want him to coddle you a little bit. You want your boyfriend to tell you you did a good job today. You want Megumi to put down the Switch (which you know, you know, is kind of ridiculous because you bought that for him) and kiss you, even for just a moment.

You feel a little ridiculous about it. You’re an adult. You shouldn’t feel this needy for a little kiss from your boyfriend.

So, you push down the feeling and settle for wrapping yourself around him instead. Your cheek pressed against his hair. Your arm wrapped around his waist. Your legs tangled together. A little bit of the tension that’s been growing in your chest escapes.

You sigh, choosing to see what Megumi’s doing on screen.

He’s made a character for himself who’s wearing cute red overalls and a straw farmer hat on his little head. His character is walking around the forest, shaking the trees and collecting blackberries. It’s so cute, you feel yourself relaxing as you watch him play.

That is, until you watch him continually give gifts to this one specific character.

“Who’s that?” you mumble against his hair. “Is it a mission to give them flowers or something?”

“That’s Haley,” Megumi says.

“Oh,” you say, “What about the character Yuuji mentioned? Wasn’t that your type?”

Megumi laughs, “Yeah, but then I saw her and decided she was better. She’s a bit dumb, but she gets sweeter the more you get to know her in the game.”

You hum. Megumi continues happily, “I think I’m going to marry her. Earlier, she told me about how she just wants a family, and I just think I could give it to her. She could make me rich and pancakes in the morning, then I could go on with my day and farm.”

“Mhm,” is the only thing you can respond with. You don't exactly know what to say. You’ve known Megumi for a while now and lived with him for the same amount of time. You know Megumi, who was your best friend before anything else. You’re not quite sure you know him as a boyfriend quite yet, which makes you uncertain sometimes in deciding what type of person you need to be for him.

Right now, all you’re thinking is does he want me to be that kind of girl? Is this what he wants? A sweet vulnerable idiot who cooks for him?

And then, you think about how ridiculous it is that you’re outright placing yourself against a video game character. You must be really out of it.

You should just go back to your room and sleep it off.

You kiss Megumi’s cheek and move to get up, which has him frowning, “Are you going already? You just came here.”

You twiddle with a piece of hair, “Yeah, I think I’m just going to sleep in my room tonight.”

“Oh, you don’t want to…” Megumi trails off, his hand twisting around his sheets.

You smile, a little tired, “Maybe tomorrow. We have an early start anyway, remember?”

“Okay,” Megumi visibly deflates, and you resist the urge to come back to his bed. He quickly brightens up, flashing you a small smile, “Good night.”

It makes you smile, and this time, it feels more sincere. “Good night.”

But when you settle into your bed after, the warmth passes. Regret comes over you, and you wish you had just stayed.

You feel like an absolute loser.

RESULT:

YOU: 1 VIDEO GAMES: 3

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ROUND FIVE

It’s been a week since you gifted Megumi the Switch and you feel like you’re losing your mind.

You’re literally jealous, because your boyfriend wants to play video games rather than pay attention to you. You’re sulking, because your boyfriend would rather romance some video game character rather than cuddle his #real girlfriend in #real life. You feel insane.

Okay—you know the stress of the recent missions has been piling up. You’ve been dealing with a lot of Grade 1 curses recently and it’s taking a lot out of you. But the added agitation from seeing Megumi play Stardew Valley, knowing he’s talking to his girlfriend there or something… unreal.

You can’t even tell anyone about this. You’re going to seem like such a loser. You already know how judged you’re going to be. You simply have to meditate this problem away.

Except, the problem never goes away. That’s just how problems work, you conclude. If you ignore them, they never get resolved. You can try sinking it as far deep as you can, but it floats back up again and again.

The thing is, you want attention, and you feel like you’re not getting enough. Between missions, and dealing with Gojo in real life— it’s not enough for you to get fleeting kisses here and there. It’s not enough to work together in missions, shoulders briefly touching.

You’re in the goddamn honeymoon period of your relationship, and you want more. It’s mortifying to admit, but you do and you’re at a place where your focus is narrowing to the point where you only care about getting it.

The only problem is that it includes getting Megumi’s attention, even at the worst of times. Even in the middle of training, when you’re supposed to be paying attention to whatever the hell Gojo is saying.

But you don’t. All you can think about is stupid Megumi, and his stupid addiction to video games, and his stupid cuddles you don’t get and his stupid mouth that hasn’t been giving you enough kisses.

You punch a little more aggressively, using more cursed energy than normal which only comes to fruition when you accidentally send Kugisaki flying into a wall. You mumble out a quick sorry, then proceed to go again.

“Woah, easy there.” Megumi teases, hair sticking up in different places. It looks so soft and fluffy. You want to bite him. “You know this is just practice right?” he asks with so much cheek.

You don’t mean to snap. You truly don’t. But there’s something about the way he’s looking at you that makes you snap on the inside. The teasing grin he’s giving you makes you wanna go absolutely batshit insane.

Which are the reasons you’ll cite later when Itadori and Gojo give you flack for asking, point black, in a voice low and serious, “Who would you choose, me or that stupid Haley from the game?”

You think Megumi can tell you weren’t playing around with the question, considering how flustered he gets. Unfortunately, the moment is cut short when Kugisaki nails an uppercut to your face as payback for throwing her against the wall. Talk about unfortunate timing.

The disappointment you feel from the lack of an answer makes you forget about the fact that everyone else is watching.

And then— you do remember and you’re absolutely fucking mortified. You’re supposed to be professional.

At the end, you all go to eat a nice meal together. And you can’t even find anything to really regret at the end of the day. I haven’t even cried about it, you think proudly to yourself.

It’s only when you’re freshly showered and happily under the covers of your bed that you remember the stupid moment. You hope Megumi forgets about it. You’re definitely going to try to tonight.

Except, you don't even get the chance to.

Your door creaks open, and you hear soft, muted footsteps across the wooden floor.

And then, someone’s climbing into your bed, settling in between you and the wall your bed is flushed against. Even in the dark, you know. It’s him.

“Hey,” Megumi says, voice tiny, “You didn’t come to my room.”

“I always come to your room,” you quietly say. You don't know if you’re saying it as an excuse.

Megumi hums, a sound as soft as light in the dark, “But you didn’t and I missed you. I want my girlfriend tonight.”

You snort, slapping whatever part of him you can reach, which lucky for him is his ass. “Stop teasing me about that already.”

“No,” Megumi agrees. You think you can hear a smile through his voice. “But you were sulking all night. Especially when I didn’t answer—”

You groan, “I don’t want to talk about it—”

Megumi makes a displeased noise, “I want to talk about it. You’re acting weird. Did I do something?”

“No!” you answer immediately.

“I don’t believe you,” Megumi stubbornly says, “Is it because I got married to Ha—“

“No.” you say with so much finality, it kills your conversation just like that, like the air has been sucked out, suffocating it. You can feel him falter, restless against you, and god, you really, really don’t want to ruin today. But you can feel his brain turning, thinking of what he did wrong, and you don't think you can end it right here. It feels like a fight that needs to be resolved now, lest it festers overnight.

You sigh, loudly. The sound is harsh in the dark. “It’s just—you always choose video games over me.”

“Huh?”

It’s out of the bag, so you think you might as well get it all out: “Sometimes, I feel like you’d rather play video games than hang out with me. Which is kind of stupid, because we spend almost all our time together. But when I’m stressed, I just want to hang out with you, but you’re busy playing video games. Or like that one time, after we had sex, you left the bed to go play video games instead. And I feel so stupid, but I’m even jealous that you’re romancing some stupid video game character, when I’m right here—”

You cut yourself off, because you sound ridiculous. “Oh my god. What the hell am I saying? Kill me. Kill me—“

“Hey!” Megumi says, grabbing your cheeks. “It’s okay. Calm down. Don’t be embarrassed. Please? Please?”

You’re pretty sure your cheeks are warm in his hands. You’re thankful for the dark, because you’re certain they would look red in the light. “Okay.”

“I hear you,” Megumi says in the most gentle voice. He always manages to take your racing mind and quiet it down. You don't know how he does it. “I hear you. But babe, why didn’t you just tell me?”

You pout, “Because. I hate feeling needy. And I don’t want to seem like some controlling asshole that wants to monopolise your time, when you probably want to relax too. The time we have together feels so small, and I find myself so greedy over it. Megumi, I think I really, really like you.”

He laughs, but it’s gentle too. “Well, I sure hope so.”

“No,” you say, “I mean, I think I like you more than I thought I did before, which is crazy because you know I like you so much already.”

“You’re so cute,” Megumi smiles and then gives you a kiss so sweet, you think the taste of honey won’t even compare to it. When you both pull away, he says, “It’s not greedy to want me. Don’t say it like that. I like that you want me. I like it when you tell me. Because you know I’ve liked you for so long, and I’m trying to do this right and not be so clingy and not be so crazy about you—”

“Be crazy about me,” you say. You’re not even thinking right now. You don't think you can when your heart is pounding so loud against your chest. “Don’t even hold back, babe. I like it so much too.”

Megumi makes a distressed noise, “Okay, don’t call me babe when we’re having a serious conversation. You know how that makes me feel. And I know you’re too tired to have sex—”

“Megumi,” you say, absolutely serious, “I have a separate energy storage for that. It’s like me with food and dessert. I have a second stomach that lets me eat more. It works exactly the same way.”

Megumi laughs, and you feel yourself fully relax. You cuddle him in your arms and sigh happily.

You feel him stroke your hair. In the end, Megumi says, “Promise me. You’ll just tell me next time, okay? Don’t feel weird, okay? I want to be a good boyfriend to you.”

“Okay,” you say, “I promise.”

RESULT:

YOU: 1,000,000 VIDEO GAMES: 3

.

.

.

BONUS ROUND

“Um,” you say, “If it’s your birthday, then how come I’m the one receiving a gift?”

“Because,” Megumi says, handing you your very own Nintendo Switch, “The gift I want from you is to play Stardew Valley with me.”

You scratch your head, “I don’t know how much I’m going to play. Megumi, I feel like this is a waste of money. You should save it and buy something you like instead—”

You shut up immediately when Megumi pouts at you so hard, you feel like you might get sent to hell for causing it. Megumi vehemently disagrees, “It’s not a waste of money! I know you’re going to love Stardew Valley. I’ll explain everything. You’re going to love toiling the land and watering crops—”

“Can’t we just make out when I’m stressed?” you argue.

“No,” Megumi says, glaring at you like an angry baby kitten. “You are not going to seduce me out of this. We are going to have a farm together. And we can even get married on this, isn’t that cute?”

Well. Why didn’t he start with that?

You clear your throat and try not to seem too excited at the idea. Instead, you choose to say, “I thought you were going to marry Haley in your little game.”

Megumi waves his hand, “I dumped her. I only wanted to pursue her anyway, because she was rich. But truly, she had nothing on you.”

Okay, it really doesn’t matter in the overall scheme of things—but you’re both a sore loser and a sore winner.

Everyone will just have to excuse you when you say: Fuck you, video games.

You have Megumi.

RESULT:

FINAL WINNER: YOU

"kunikuzushi, if I asked you to kill someone for me, would you do it?"

warnings: offscreen murder, light gore, yandere ish but not really imo, reader is implied to be a kitsune (reader is gender neutral)

@edenialucas, @huboi, @nejibot, @lovediluc, @yumixxn, @teallapril, @midnxght-sweet-time, @barbatosfavouritenun

“What?”

“You’ve ended lives for my sake before,” you say, not lifting your head up, hands focused on stitching the garment on your lap. “would you do it for me again?”

The balladeer puts his quill aside, a smirk on his lips as indigo eyes centre on you. “For my stoic fox to go so far as to demand for this person gone, they must have committed a major transgression against you.”

You made a sound akin to an aggrieved hum, pulling particularly hard on the thread before stabbing it into the fabric. It’s true; one of the things you share with Kunikuzushi is your hatred for humanity. Unlike the harbinger who pours all of his hatred to his lackeys, forcing them to endure the brunt of his cruelty, you’ve always preferred to keep yourself hidden from others. The lesser you have to interact with those phoney people, the better it is for your wellbeing.

There are times when you have no choice in the matter, and you’re reminded of why you despise being around others so much. Normally, you’ll silently wish for them to disappear, praying to nobody for the second you’re able to return to your room. But in this instance, they’ve accidentally ignited your ire: cold and seething and you’re unsatisfied with anything less than hearing news of that person’s dead body strewn atop a bloody icicle on a cliff somewhere deep within the Snezhnayan mountains.

“Won’t you tell me what this person did to offend you?”

“What if I said no?”

“Then I won’t press.”

“...I’m done.” You cut the thread before lifting the shirt up to inspect for any more loose seams or tears. “I’ll hang it up for you to wear tomorrow.”

You fold the shirt on your lap, standing up before pausing. “Kuni, would you do it for me again? For my sake?”

The balladeer regards you with an unrecognisable expression on his face. “How would you like it to be done?”

“Painful and slow,” you say without missing a beat. “I don’t want to witness it. You can tell me how it went.”

Kunikuzushi could only laugh at such a macabre response, nearly to tears before he recollects himself. “I need a name, you know.”

Your steps echoes throughout his office as you walk towards him, bending down to whisper in his ear before leaving a quick peck on his lips.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

—

“(Name), come here.” 

You sit on his lap, snaking your arms around his neck as you nuzzle against him. The harbinger’s voice is gentle as he hums an Inazuman lullaby; one that he usually catches you singing to yourself when you’re alone. He finishes his tune, smiling to himself as he smoothes his palm up and down your back.

“He’s dead.”

You nod. Ah, now that you think about it, that iron scent is especially pungent today.

“I handed him to Dottore. Or whatever was left of him. I don’t even know if his brain is still intact after what I did to him.”

You mutter something intelligible before planting a string of kisses from his collarbone to his jaw. As he strokes your tails — swishing slowly from side to side — he hears a whispered “thank you” and an “I love you” next to his ear, coupled with a quiet purring noise, and he knows that you’ll be sleeping well tonight.

Admiral, the general is touch-deprived.

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ based on the ask: "Please do one if you haven’t where Jing Yuan is severely down bad for reader and makes it known to everyone and they are just done with him"

✧ content: established relationship, fluff, make-out scene, humor, mentions of other characters

✧ a/n: where did almost 100 of you come- bless this ask for making me write needy jing yuan i love you. not beta-read again anyway buckle up this is another one of unfiltered shame for my love for one mere general with a silly thunder lord that he nicknamed shin-kun in the jp dub because the official title was way too long for this old man.

this was written in a google doc on the phone since I'm on vacation so I apologize if the formatting is messier than the first post 🫡

There's tension in the air.

"... As for Stargazer Navidia, there seems to be another onslaught of mara-struck cloud knights making their way within the area in the next few days. I'll appoint Lieutenant Yanqing to lead a few troops there by the next hour, but be sure to send a messenger cycrane if the situation gets too out of hand or you need to divide the troops up to cover more ground."

You hear a loud "Yes!" as you flip over to the next page, quickly scanning through the documents contents, purposefully ignoring the tension in the air, muttering the details lowly to yourself with a furrowed eyebrow.

It's the sort of tension you wish everyone just ignored, even though it's more difficult than it sounds.

Perhaps being fed up with your avoidance of ignoring the elephant in the room, one of the captains of the Knights loudly cough into the air before meekly addressing you, "Admiral [Name]?"

"Yes?" you look up with a smile, cocking your head to the side. A small gesture to ensure the captain that they have your full attention which makes the knight before you quickly glance to the side and away from you, although that didn't help the pair of eyes boring a hole into the side of his head, "The general…" he starts, coughing once again while glancing back and forth at you and the weapons displayed at the seat of Divine Foresight, "... Would very much like your attention, it seems."

As if on cue, the arms that were wrapped around your waist squeeze a bit tighter than normal. The sudden pressure makes you let out a grunt of surprise while Qingzu lets out another exhausted sigh. Meanwhile you glance down to lock eyes with Jing Yuan, who very much is staring at you with a small pout evident on his lips, "Oh so my darling has finally acknowledged my existence?" he jokes with a grin, meanwhile you merely stare down back at him with a neutral expression before resting your left arm carrying the paperwork on his gray head. The general uses the opportunity to nuzzle his face into your waist, playfully biting into an exposed part of your skin from where his hand had wormed itself underneath your shirt, making you squirm away from him, to which he immediately grabs your back into his hold.

"If you haven't noticed dear, you're practically leeching onto me to the point I can't even stand at my usual side, that is to per say in front of the desk and not literally quite next to you and within your arms." You whisper to him gently. Flicking his forehead before whipping your head around to address the Cloud Knights before your husband can say anything in his defense.

You ignore the looks of disbelief on some of the soldiers' faces.

"I apologize for the awkwardness this position may cause, I can only hope for your understanding being that I've been away from the Luofu for a few months helping Marshal Fua with some matters at her fleet. I've only recently come back." you explain, gesturing Qingzu over to hand over the paperwork to her before waving your hand with a guilty smile, "You're all dismissed, please be safe out there."

"Lady Fu Xuan, how may I be of assis-"

"Are you two arguing or something?" Fu Xuan interrupts before you can even finish your sentence which leaves you staring wide eyed at her with your mouth agape, "Pardon? I'm not quite sure who you're referring to-"

"The general. I'm referring to general Jing Yuan, who else would I be referring to? He sits around the seat of Divine Foresight like a kicked puppy. Which makes it even harder to get any information in OR to him because he's not even mentally present! Can you fix him? Wonderful! Let's make haste to the seat."

You're not even allowed to finish your cup of tea or give an answer before the divination commissioner grabs you by the forearms and drags you out of the teahouse.

"Jing-" you haven't even taken one step into the seat of Divine Foresight before you're surrounded by the familiar scent of your husband. A gentle hand placed by your head while an arm is tightly wound around your waist. You can practically feel the smile of utter glee on Jing Yuan's lips as he buries his face into your hair.

"Darling, I thought you had the day off today?" he mutters into your hair, sounding a bit too happy to have you in his arms again to the point he's ignoring the death glares from Fu Xuan besides you, the divination commissioner just wanting to do her part of keeping the Luofu afloat.

"I was having my day off, before Lady Fu Xuan here dragged me out because someone didn't-" you struggle free to nag at him, but your husband merely smiles softly at you before lifting your chin to give you a quick kiss, "Now that you're here I feel more energized than ever, let me finish the paperwork for today and I'll join you, we can even play a round of starchess." he suggests.

You can practically sense Fu Xuan roll her eyes in disgust, able to hear her mutter about a "lovesick fool" before walking past the two of you, Jing Yuan merely grabbing your hand to lead you towards the seat.

So much for a day off.

You can't breathe.

"Jing-" another press of his lips onto yours as you find yourself pressed on the wall beside the door, "Yanqing-" you manage to breathe out when finally able to pull a tiny bit away from him. Pressing your hand over whatever surface of his face you can reach to try to shove him away, your other hand occupied with bracing itself against the wall.

Your husband ignores your literal hand on his face, somehow having more strength to still slant his lips across your own despite your efforts, the hand he has behind your head pushing you further against him while he shoves a leg between your own to keep you still, "Train-"

There's a rather loud set of knocks on your bedroom door followed by an exasperated sigh coming from behind it, which makes you freeze but Jing Yuan ignores it, sliding his tongue over your teeth while you resign yourself to slam your fist repeatedly on his back to get him to back off.

"General! I know you missed [Name] a lot during the months they were away from the Luofu, but you know that today is supposed to be a training day!" Yanqing shouts from behind the door, and you feel sorry over the realization he's aware of what's happening beyond it.

Feeling sorry enough for Yanqing whose probably already waited 15 minutes before knocking at the door, you muster whatever little strength you have left against your husband's addictive lips to grab his ponytail and yank him off and away from you.

Jing Yuan merely grunts in irritation, looking at you with a glare and swollen lips, but you ignore him. Opening the door before Jing Yuan can grab you again and giving Yanqing an apologetic look, "I tried-"

"It's better than last time, at least." He points out to which you merely sigh before opening the door wider, "I'll give you more pocket money this month, how's that for compensation?" You suggest, shoving your husband out the door before he do anything else, Yanqing smiling in triumph at your generosity.

"You're the best! Give me extra if I manage to land a few hits on the general?"

"5 more than usual and I'll give you an extra thousand." You settle, tapping Jing Yuan on the shoulder. Your husband turns around to face you with a hum, and you lean in to peck him on the cheek, gliding your lips over to his ear, "If you're a bit nicer to him today you'll also get a reward."

Needless to say, there were two very happy boys onboard the Luofu at the end of the day.

HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui & fontaine, reader not in the best mental state (esp in first scene).

notes: FINALLY!!! its unedited so bear with me, i dont rlly have time to go through and edit + i've been sick as hell for two weeks straight now. but i hope u guys enjoy!!!

ALEA IACTA EST

You were trapped. 

You didn’t know what sort of witchcraft Pantalone used but you couldn’t leave his wing. You thought you might be going crazy, it took two days of making excuses for you to realize that something was severely wrong, and another three for the anxieties to start embedding in your head. You had your first panic attack in years on the sixth day, and now on the seventh, you were sitting in the small library alone—there was a book in your lap, but the words were swimming off the pages and your head was spinning. 

How was this what he wanted? 

You couldn’t understand how either of you were benefiting from this. He wasn’t getting whatever knowledge he wanted from you and you weren’t getting what you needed to know. You were just stuck here, alone and lost. Not even Pantalone was around for the past few days because he went to finalize a business deal in a Mondstadt port town, he should be coming back soon but even when he did, you knew he wouldn’t spare you much attention. 

How was this what he wanted? You wondered if it was supposed to be some sick sort of torture, wear down your mental fortitude so you’d be more apt to answer the questions he wanted. If that was the case, he would be severely disappointed when you spat in his face the next time he dared to make an appearance. Another part of you wondered if this was just how it would be—he would keep you locked up and alone so he didn’t have to deal with you but he also didn’t have to fear you running off and putting yourself in danger.

The more you thought about it, the more you convinced yourself of both options, and the more you hated your own soulmate. 

Seven days. It had been seven days of being trapped in this place with only Pantalone to occasionally talk to and of the few times he spoke to you, the majority were just of him going on a vicious rant about how the Tianquan of Liyue kept sidelining his proposals and how the wineries of Mondstadt were icing him out of the wine market with Liyue’s merchants. He claimed it was all some big conspiracy against him because there was no reason they should be blatantly disregarding his letters, all of his proposals were mostly targeted for their profit, which the Regrator thought was blasphemous in itself—the Jester apparently cared more for building relationships with the administrative and economic sectors of each of the nations than Pantalone’s dignity as a businessman. You, evidently, did not give him the outraged reaction he wanted and he hadn’t come back to speak with you since, leaving for his meeting across the nation without a word. 

Now you were alone, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching you—and you knew it was not Dottore. 

You exhaled as you tried to focus again on the book laying on your lap but your head throbbed and you were forced to avert your gaze back to the ceiling, trying to quell the pain through sheer willpower alone. The Regrator’s library was filled to the brim, but with nothing that would be of use to you trying to figure out how they had trapped you in this sector. Books on economics, the aristocratic families of Snezhnaya, the history of the northern lands and all of the old traditions and folklore that noble children were brought up learning, undoubtedly so he could fine tune that mask of his, pretending that he had always been one of them in order to shear more money from them.

A part of you wanted to warn him that the more he tried to fake it, the more they would ridicule him, but you didn’t want to be totally isolated again as soon as he came back so you figured you’d just let him figure it out himself. 

Regardless, even with the massive amount of books that stacked his library’s walls, not a single one could help you in figuring out this spell. You’d never seen magics like this before—it was not elemental based, it was psyche-based. Every time you got down the hall, to the eighth window from your room to the right, your head started feeling light and dizzy, you felt sick and nauseous and were forced to turn back lest you put yourself in a very, very vulnerable position in a place where you could not afford any vulnerability. 

As nervous as it made you, at first, you found amusement in it. You were irritated and scared, yes, but more than that, you knew that Dottore could feel everything you did. So, you made it your mission to stay right at that eighth window for as long as you possibly could, just because you knew that you were racking your soulmate with that same nausea and dizziness and light-headedness that you were experiencing. 

Now, the amusement was gone and you were just scared. You were scared that you would be trapped here forever, never again to see your mother and your half-siblings and your grandfather. You were scared that you’d disappoint your father, that you wouldn’t be able to succeed in your mission and he would never be able to rest peacefully without justice having been exacted. And as much as you hated him, you were scared that you would never see him again either, that he would just leave you here to rot, live out the rest of your miserable existence confined to a single hall with books that you would rather burn than read. 

You hated that you felt so attached to him already—that even though the thought of him filled you with vile rage and agony, your body still ached for his touch, your eyes still longed for the sight of him walking through the dark doors of the library, and your bond still screamed for you to somehow end this war between the two of you so it could find peace. 

Even if peace negotiations were in your hands, you would still stubbornly throw them out the window, but they weren’t because he continued to completely deny you his presence. You were at his mercy, only when he decided, would a white flag be lifted. 

“Excuse me.”

You stiffened, an unwelcome chill ran down your spine as you looked over your shoulder to where an unfamiliar figure was standing in the doorframe of the library. With golden blonde curls and green eyes, no more than a decade older than you, you thought that the man might’ve been handsome were it not for that there was a dark gleam behind his eyes that reminded you a lot of your step-father, one that promised danger and deceit. 

He smiled and even though his teeth were not sharpened, somehow they looked more like knives than Theta’s did. “You’re the aristocrat from Fontaine that the Regrator took in, no?” 

“I am,” you said. Your voice was hoarse from days without speaking, you cleared your throat, closing the book and placing it down on the couch next to you just in case the man tried to take a seat there with you. “And you are?”

He wasn’t as unfamiliar as you originally believed. You recognized him from the event, standing with the rest of the Harbingers—immediately, you were on edge, trying to figure out what he wanted from you. He came closer to you and you bit the words that tempted to fly from your mouth as he picked up the book you had placed as a deterrent to take a seat on the couch right next to you, too close for comfort. You could feel his thigh brushing yours as he looked to the side to watch you, eyes tracing over your body once before settling on your face.

“Brighella,” he greeted, holding a hand out to you. “Tenth of the Fatui Harbingers, delighted to make your acquaintance.”

You placed your hand in his, albeit reluctantly, watching raptly as he lifted your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently before letting go. His lips were soft and pleasant against your fingers yet it still made your skin crawl. You drew your hand back into your lap immediately, waiting for him to explain what he wanted.

“I was just curious,” he said, answering the unspoken question. “The Regrator is a very proud man, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, he never responds well to help. It came as a shock to hear that he was taking in an aristocrat from Fontaine as an advisor.”

He was lying—about what, you weren’t sure, but you knew somewhere in that statement of his that there was a lie, and though you had no way of confirming it, you suspected that it had to do with his initial claim: that he was simply curious. 

“He intends to expand the Northland Bank into Fontaine City,” was all you replied with, a thin smile painting your lips. “Even someone as proud and intelligent as him is not capable of such a feat alone, the Court of Fontaine is notoriously anti-Snezhnaya.”

“Yes, so I’ve heard.” Brighella waved off your words and relaxed into the chair next to you, eyes disarmingly beseeching as he watched your reactions. “But we have our own operatives in Fontaine City, I was surprised that he didn’t just come to me for information, rather insulting, actually.”

He laid the information in front of you like meat to seduce a starving beast, all the while he lurked behind the bushes and waited for you to lunge at it so he could drive his blade across your neck as an execution. You didn’t respond, maybe for a second longer than you should have, but the sudden information had thrown you off guard. 

It was him. 

The words rang resounding through your head, Brighella was the one running the Fatui’s operations in Fontaine. Why had he told you? What did he expect to gain from this? There was something you were missing still, but after a week of forced isolation and no progress in your mission, this was like a feast handed to you on a silver platter.

“Perhaps your operatives are just not capable enough for such a scheme,” you said dryly, but your voice sounded vacant even to your own ears, it was clear that you were focused on something else. 

Brighella raised a hand to his chest as if he’d been wounded by your words. “Oh, but the Knave and I had trained so many of them personally,” he sighed. “What use am I to this organization if my colleagues won’t even rely on me or my agents to deliver when necessary?” 

It was a rhetorical question but you didn’t know what to make of it, or of him. Faux-mourning tainted his tone as he spoke, a regretful expression on his face as he turned his eyes up to the ceiling above. 

What was he trying to gain from this? You asked yourself again, more desperately this time. His lips, still tilted up as they’d been this whole conversation, had a bit more of triumph in them than they’d had before and you knew that somewhere you had slipped up, revealing something you shouldn’t have. But you rewound the conversation in your head over and over and over again and you couldn’t quite place where you had. You’d been careful with your words, nothing to set off alarm bells—your cover with the Regrator’s expansion in Fontaine was true, but you were just not being quite as helpful as he would like you to be, and Pantalone was very clear in his opinions on their Fontaine plants and their inadequacy. 

It had to have been your tone, the emptiness in your response to his reveal about his subordinates in Fontaine. It gave away your interest, and you could play it off as if it was just a general interest in how they’d infiltrated Fontaine, but if your stepfather truly was his agent, then he would know very well who you were and your ulterior reasons for being here—or he would at least now have confirmation. 

Pantalone had told you that Pulcinella, Brighella and Tartaglia would be the three Harbingers who would be the least of your worries, but you thought that the Friar was much more dangerous than he made himself out to be. 

How were you supposed to proceed? You tested words on the tip of your tongue but you could not figure out what to say—if you were suddenly interested in him, he would know it was only because of the information he revealed, but if you were cold and distant, you risked him not returning and you needed more information one way or another, even if it meant consorting with a man that made your hair stand on end. 

You didn’t get the chance to speak up again though, as your lips parted to speak, Brighella rose to his feet.

“I should get going. I’d prefer not to draw the ire of my fellow Harbingers, but it was a pleasure talking to you,” he murmured, a small smile and eyes turned upward as he nodded his head down in acknowledgement. “I’ll stop by again soon, it’s cruel of the Regrator and the Doctor to leave you alone the way they have.”

Two days later, the Friar returned. 

You’d spent the two days alone reeling and trying to understand where you had gone wrong and how you could compensate for it. You needed a plan of action, and a fast and efficient one at that. Freezing him out would be stupid, as much as it might be the most comforting course of action, but you also couldn’t just suddenly be trying to get closer to him because he would realize something was up.

You weren’t stupid. If he had truly just been curious about you, he would have come much sooner than he did. He waited because he wanted you to be worn down and utterly alone, so you would latch onto him like he was a buoy in the raging sea. Unfortunately for him, you were far too used to being alone. As agonizing as a week of isolation was, it was not near enough to make you that desperate. 

But he had information you wanted desperately, so you wanted to let him think whatever plan he was concocting was working in hopes that he might reveal more to gain your trust and dependency. You thought it would be a slow and arduous process, not to mention agonizing, but considering neither Pantalone nor Dottore have come to see you in over a week now, you figured you had nothing better to do anyway and this was your best shot at getting what you wanted… and maybe, if you ended up being successful with this, you could free yourself too but you thought that was far less likely.

At the very least, it might force Dottore into action if he thought you were starting to get close with Brighella.

But that was a long shot anyway. Brighella was a type of beast that you were unfamiliar with. He kind of reminded you of some of the crueler members of Fontaine’s aristocracy, the ones who found entertainment in setting up trials that they knew would lead to one terrible sentencing, all the while smiling to the defendants face, but even then they were nothing like this. He was a wolf that portrayed himself as a sheep in the truest sense of the proverb and you just didn’t know what he was capable of, or what he wanted, and that was what scared you most—you didn’t like it when you didn’t know what someone’s intentions were with you.

Your stepfather was easy, all he wanted was more power in Fontaine, evidently to report back to the Fatui for a promotion—you and your father were obstacles in obtaining said power, so he removed your father from being able to influence your mother and you were certain that if you had stayed in Fontaine City, he would have gone after you too.

Dottore was somewhat frank in his intentions with you: he wanted you out of his life so that you couldn’t affect his research but he was keeping you here because he wanted information from you… and a part of you was certain that he was keeping you here also because it prevented you from going out and getting yourself hurt or killed, and that scared you because you didn’t know just how long he planned to keep you isolated here. Or if he ever even planned to release you.

Pantalone had been upfront with you: he wanted a way to get the Northland Bank into Fontaine, you had offered your help in exchange for assistance with removing your stepfather from the courts but you had no intention of giving him any help until he had pulled through on his end. And even then, you had never specified how much help you would give him—you were not going to give the Fatui more of a foothold than they already had. 

Not after what they did to your father. 

Brighella was an unknown. He had come to you with a goal two days ago, and whatever that goal had been, he had achieved it. You still couldn’t figure what it was, even after days of recounting your conversation to figure it out, and that unnerved you more than anything. 

“You actually came back,” you said quietly, eyes flickering up to where Brighella had entered the library. He brought something with him, you couldn’t quite tell what it was but it smelled good, and familiar. 

“I promised, didn’t I?” Brighella replied, amused. He came around the couch to sit next to you. He sat closer this time. 

“It’s been two days, I was beginning to doubt.”

“Yes, well, the Regrator grew a bit suspicious when he saw me coming from the direction of his wing, the last thing I needed was to draw his ire. The Doctor already has it out for me even when I do no wrong.” Brighella sounded aggrieved as he spoke but your ears rang loudly at his words. 

“The Regrator already returned from his meeting in Mondstadt?” you asked, keeping your voice free of all tightness but when Brighella only shot you a confused look, one that did not appear to be feigned in the slightest. “Ah, I see.”

There was no meeting in Mondstadt. 

You wondered if it was by Dottore’s will or his own that he had lied and left you here in isolation. You thought it would be easier to believe it was Dottore’s, you had already made him out to be your villain, but you knew better than to assume that. Dottore was obstinate and prideful, yes, but Pantalone was the one who had clawed his way from the bottom tiers of society to the very top, his manipulation would know no bounds—he knew that you were already struggling with Dottore’s refusal to acknowledge you, and he probably thought that his disappearance, after entertaining you for a few days, would put you over the edge.

Jaw tight and trying your best to keep your emotions off of your face lest Brighella take advantage of your distressed realization, you forced yourself to turn your attention back to the Harbinger.

“Here,” Brighella said, passing the covered dish over to you. “Tartiflette, I figure you must be missing home. I hear tartiflette has been rather popular amongst the aristocrats lately.”

I hear. 

Bitterly, you wanted to ask just how he managed to hear that but you refrained. Instead, you glanced down at the dish—it was covered with foil but it smelled good, just like the one you and Sylvie used to get from Cafe Lucerne before your father passed away.

You wondered if it was poisoned, or laced with something, you didn’t exactly put it past Brighella. Even if there were ulterior motives behind him bringing you the dish, it was thoughtful nonetheless. So instead of voicing your suspicions or refusing the dish, you took into your lap, letting the warmth of the bottom of the plate and the familiar scent sink in.

“Thank you.”

Brighella looked pleased, green eyes glittering. “You’re welcome.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, and you listened to the way the wind rattled the glass nearby. It was getting late already, you could see the moon rising over the trees in the distance. Nine days now with no word from Dottore at all. You were sure he was probably keeping the segments away from you too because you hadn’t seen a single one since that night.

After a few moments of silence, Brighella asked, “He told you that he had a meeting in Mondstadt?” 

You didn’t respond, you supposed that was answer enough because he let out a heavy sigh. 

“The Regrator does love his underhanded tactics.”

“And you don’t?” you couldn’t help but press, eyeing him curiously.

“I do.” At least he didn’t bother hiding it, shooting you a deceptively friendly smile as he relaxed back into the chair. “But it’s different, my underhanded tactics are for the greater good.”

“Many men have claimed to do terrible things for the greater good,” you murmured. “What makes you different?” 

Your subordinate killed my father, you were saying, tell me how that was for the greater good?

Brighella watched you for a second and then said, “Perhaps you’re right, but I’d like to believe otherwise.”

You hummed, looking away but you could feel that he was still looking at you and it was making you feel antsy, like a cornered animal. 

Finally, Brighella spoke up again. This time, his voice was far more quiet, as if he didn’t want someone listening in. “I wish we had more time to talk instead of rushing straight to business, but I fear that I’m testing many boundaries and patiences by coming to visit you and I’d like for you to understand why I am.” Curiously, your eyes focused onto him, he was still staring at you, watching your reactions. “The Regrator cannot give you what you want. He has no power in Fontaine, nor jurisdiction over any of the subordinates there, that is why he’s coming to you and trying to get your assistance. He does not want to use me as an intermediary for his business.”

There it was. You raised your chin a bit in surprise as Brighella’s words reached your ears and his motives became clearer. You didn’t doubt that there were other ulterior ones that he was keeping to himself, but this one was enough for you to get some clarity on the situation: Brighella and Pantalone were playing a game of chess for Fontaine, and both thought that you would be the piece that would win them the game. 

You realized, slowly, that you might just have a bit more power than you realized, and that Pantalone had been trying to keep you ignorant to it. 

It also gave you more insight on the Fatui itself, and more specifically, the relationship between the Harbingers. You had a feeling that the camaraderie shown during the event was just a show but you hadn’t thought the rivalry ran so deep as to having Harbingers competing for power through using outside sources. 

You wondered if Brighella realized just how much he had revealed to you. From the steady look in his eyes as he watched you, he very much did. You wondered then why, because it had to be something beyond just trying to get you to not help Pantalone—unless he was that desperate to keep Fontaine in his grasp. But you had a feeling that wasn’t the case.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you finally responded with, pointedly meeting his eyes. 

He was studying you carefully and finally, he nodded, rising to his feet. “It’s alright. I’ll come back soon and give you some time to think. Just remember, what the Regrator promised you is not something he is able to give at this point and time. He’s making you think that you are the one dependent on him but without your cooperation, he doesn’t have a foothold in Fontaine, which is what he desperately wants.”

You didn’t respond as he walked out of the room, but before he stepped through the door, he turned to look at you one last time, “Enjoy the tartiflette—perhaps next time, I’ll bring you an even grander gift.”

You were not in the library the next time Brighella came to visit. You were lounging in your room preparing for bed when the knock came at your door. For a second, just a second, you might’ve hoped that it was Dottore, finally ending the war between the two of you—but as you called for the person to come in, and a head of curly blonde hair and green eyes peeked from around the door, the bit of hope that had sprung up withered in an instant. 

“May I?” Brighella asked, motioning for him to come into your room.

How improper, you thought to yourself, trying to force away the heat that rose to your cheeks. But you needed to keep talking to him, milk him for all that he knew before you made a decision about what you were going to do. 

“Of course,” you responded with, watching him carefully as he slipped into the room and made his way over to where you were sitting. He sat on the window nook next to where you were sitting at your vanity, leaning back on his hands as he studied you carefully. 

“Have you thought about my proposal yet?” Brighella murmured, his eyes were intense as he watched you, you could barely even hold his gaze and you had never had trouble holding anyone’s gaze before. 

You had. Of course, you had. With the newfound knowledge of Pantalone’s inability to actually get you what you want without you giving him what he wanted first, everything changed. Your whole position in this situation changed. You were still a prisoner, naturally, but you were a prisoner with power right now. You had two different Harbingers vying to acquire your support. It could change in a second, you knew that, you couldn’t get ahead of yourself, but you couldn’t just disregard the opportunity this presented.

You also could not take everything Brighella said at face value. 

You remembered the look in his eyes when you first met him, the skeevy one that reminded you of your stepfather and all of the other men and women in your life who had done terrible, terrible things without remorse. 

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied instead, and Brighella sighed, disappointed but not surprised.

“Ah, I see,” Brighella said. “I haven’t quite gained your trust yet—well, perhaps this will change that.”

From his pocket, Brighella pulled out a piece of parchment, sealed with a wax Fatui insignia. He held it out to you and you reached out cautiously, taking it into your hands and turning it over to view the blank back of the parchment. You had no way of knowing the contents of it without breaking the wax seal, you looked up at Brighella, questioningly. He looked pleased, a small smile teasing at his lips. 

“This is a letter I have addressed to a particular subordinate of mine stationed down in Fontaine,” Brighella explained, leaning his chin on his hand, elbow propped up on his knee as he watched you. You could only barely bite back the sharp intake of breath as you looked down at the parchment again. “Yes, yes, I know, you don’t know what I’m talking about. But hypothetically, if you did, I was willing to gift you one of two options.”

“What are these hypothetical options?” you asked, your knuckles just a bit too tight around the parchment to pass it off as normal.

“You can keep that letter, and we can work together as partners. I can work with the Knave to set up a mission with the Jester and the Tsaritsa to have you head back to Fontaine, where you can use the letter as evidence to put said subordinate on trial before the Hydro Archon and Chief Justice,” Brighella said, your throat felt tight and swollen, your lips on the verge of trembling. 

Everything you wanted, but there had to be a catch. You knew better. For all you knew, the contents of the letter was empty, he could let you go down to Fontaine only to make you look like a fool when you presented the letter as evidence. 

“The second option?” you asked, proud that your voice remained steady and void of the turbulent emotions rushing through you.

“I will send it south and summon him back to Snezhnaya. You can exact your own justice here.”

What was the catch?

There had to be a catch, but you couldn’t for the life of you figure it out. You knew it was something more than just preventing Pantalone from stepping into his territory but Brighella was impossible to read and far more unpredictable than you expected. You were baffled that he would go to this length to try to get you to trust him. 

“You can hold onto the letter until you’ve made your decision, I-”

“My, my,” a familiar, smooth voice drawled. “What is this?”

At once, your blood ran cold as you looked up to see a familiar figure standing in your doorframe, violet eyes cold and cruel as he stared at where you were sitting with Brighella. Brighella only smiled thinly, mocking, as he looked at Pantalone and said: “Regrator, I hope you don’t mind me spending time with your new advisor, she’s quite the lovely little thing. I’m rather fond of her.”

“Is that meant to mean much?” Pantalone asked dryly, the smile on his lips tightening at the corners and you braced yourself for whatever he was about to say. “You’re fond of everything with two legs that will open for you.”

Your face felt hot, fingers tightening around the parchment as his words registered. Two legs that will open? 

How dare he?

Who does he think he is?

The barrage of livid questions battered your head, begging to be let loose but you bit your tongue, sharpening it as you instead responded with: “How crude, I know you had an unfortunate upbringing but I thought you’d learned better by now than to speak every vile word that crosses through that repulsive mind of yours.”

Next to you, Brighella hid his smile behind his hand and you at least felt a little validated even as Pantalone’s eyes bore down into you, you could see the promise for bloodshed barely veiled beneath his calm expression. 

“I’ll take my leave.” Brighella rose to his feet and to your horror, he leaned in close to you, taking both of your hands in his and you wanted to pull away, ask him what the hell he was thinking, but the words died on your tongue as he took the parchment from your hand before Pantalone could catch sight of it, subtly letting it drop to the floor before using his foot to slip it beneath the bed. His lips flickered upward. “Think about what I said. I’ll come by again.”

“No, you will not,” Pantalone interjected coolly. “I believe I have mentioned before that you are not welcome in my wing of the palace, Friar.”

“Then I will send one of my subordinates to fetch her to bring her to mine.” Brighella waved off the comment. “It’s no bother.”

He directed a faux-smile toward Pantalone as he slipped past the other Harbinger and left the room, leaving you alone with him. Pantalone stared after Brighella for a moment before turning his attention on you. 

You raised your chin and asked sweetly, “How did your business deal down in Mondstadt fare?” knowing damn well that there was no business deal down in Mondstadt.

He very clearly understood what you were getting at, the sweet smile on his lips just as fake as your tone as he said, “Very well.”

“I’m sure.”

The mockery in his eyes slowly slipped away the longer he stared at you—he wanted to say something, that was for sure, but he either didn’t know how to say it or he couldn’t, and you had a distinct feeling that Pantalone spoke more than he breathed so finding a way to say it was not the problem, he felt that he couldn’t. 

“The Friar is not to be trusted,” he finally decided. 

“There is not a single soul within this palace that is to be trusted,” you countered icily. 

He smiled, but the smile did not meet his eyes. “Fair enough.” 

There was a quiet tone to his voice, you wondered if any of Brighella’s statements held any truth to them, if he was worried that you would side with the Tenth instead of him, and he would lose his shot at expanding the Northland Bank into Fontaine. 

Something wicked swam in his eyes as his gaze cast over where you were sitting once more, voice more scathing now. “I do wonder how the Doctor will feel about your newfound relationship with the Friar,” and you realized that the Regrator did not fret over anything. And if he was backed into a corner like a wounded animal, he would lash out ten times as deadly. 

He was threatening to tell Dottore if you did not speak to his liking, if you did not dismiss Brighella’s option. 

Your eyes widened, just a bit—you knew there was nothing wrong with what you’d been talking about with the Friar. Dottore knew that you were here for one thing, and one thing alone: obtaining the evidence to convict your stepfather of your father’s murder. But you had a feeling that Pantalone would be spiteful and describe what he had walked in on as not what really happened, he’d put it in the worst light possible and blow the slim chance you had for Dottore ever showing up…

Or, it would finally force him into action. 

It was a risky gamble—one that you weren’t sure if you should take. Dottore was prideful and stubborn and you didn’t know how far it extended. It could blow up in your face, or it could finally get you what you wanted: the upperhand. 

You had never been a gambling woman before, but ever since you got to Snezhnaya, you were being put into situations forcing you to change and adapt just so you could survive, so you could bring justice to your father.

You didn’t think you liked the person who you were becoming, but you didn’t think you had a choice.

You smiled at Pantalone, but the smile was as empty as you felt. 

“I don’t particularly care what the Doctor feels concerning my relationship with Brighella. Tell him whatever you please, do pass on my regards to the younger segments though.”

“I must say your soulmate truly is a little spitfire, she has proven it time and time again.”

Dottore sighed as he looked up from his vial, heavy eyes focusing on Pantalone as the man slunk into his labs as if he owned them. His smile was tight and his eyes were not in the typical upturn they usually turned up whenever he was amused—whatever you had said to him had severely pissed him off, it nearly made his own lips twitch upward, wondering what exactly you had said to get under his skin so badly. 

“And what did she say this time?” Dottore drawled, not even bothering to feign curiosity, placing the vial back down on the burner as he looked up at Pantalone, whose eye twitched at the question. 

“It’s about time you stop playing this game with her, Doctor.” Was all Pantalone said in response, observing a failed, burnt test subject disdainfully, poking at it with a long, gloved finger before drawing his gaze back up to Dottore. 

“And here I thought you were playing the same game,” Dottore dismissed, although he would beg to differ that it was not a game, but the last thing he wanted was to get into a battle of semantics with Pantalone. “Was that not why you’ve been loitering around my labs this past week?”

“Yes, I was,” Pantalone agreed, but there was an edge to his voice that made Dottore suspicious, “and it backfired. A certain snake rose from the grasses to take advantage.”

“Hm?” Dottore tilted his head to the side, red eyes narrowing as Pantalone’s words registered.

“Now is not the time for your stubbornness, Doctor,” the banker warned. “Continue to disregard her and she will turn to someone else… or I suppose, she already has. I caught her acting rather intimately with the Friar in her quarters just before I came here.”

Dottore’s lips flattened and his eyes went cold, Pantalone caught the physical reaction, eyebrows shooting upward, mockingly. But Pantalone could only see the physical reaction, he could not feel how Dottore’s blood somehow felt like it was burning and freezing at the same time, he could not see how his vision tunneled and he could not hear how his ears were ringing. 

Intimately?

There it was again—that prideful and possessive feeling rearing its ugly head. You were his, only by fate and by chance, but you were his nonetheless, even if he was loathe to admit it. He ignored the hypocrisy of his thoughts, you were his and yet he had ignored you for over a week? He was laying claim to you after all of his denial and anger?

He had been doing what was right, separating himself from you to prevent the bond from getting any stronger. He wasn’t playing the same game that Pantalone was, isolating you to try to make you more malleable to his requests when he finally came back around; Dottore did not play games, not with anyone, much less with you. 

But was he okay with you turning your attention elsewhere with his absence?

No. No, he was not. The thought filled him with an emotion he hadn’t felt in over four hundred years, not since his years as a Fatui recruit before he’d learned to separate himself from his emotions.

“She asked for me to pass on my regards to the younger segments.” Pantalone smiled as he spoke, knowing that the words were bound to set Dottore off even more because how dare you send your regards to the children as you let another man into your quarters. “I’ll be heading to my office now. I have some paperwork to finish filling out. Do think on what I said, I expected a branch of the Northland Bank in Fontaine to come out of this arrangement. If it does not, you will have to make up for it.”

“Your expectations are not my responsibility,” Dottore said, voice clipped and icy and far more strained than he meant for it to be. 

Pantalone only let out a huff of laughter as he spun on his heel, shooting Dottore one last long look that had Dottore’s body begging for violence as a response. Nearly twenty years of him being forced into a corner because of you, and it was only getting worse.

“It is in this situation,” he said as he made his way out of the lab as quickly as he had come, leaving Dottore there alone with raging thoughts and turbulent emotions. 

The Friar. 

Brighella. 

Lip curled up in a type of rage he hadn’t felt in a long, long time, he finished putting his equipment away and reached for his mask, intent on heading to your quarters himself to understand just what was going on between you and the Tenth. 

It was the first time you’d been in Snezhnaya where there hadn’t been a storm battering the night. Once the Regrator had left you to your business, and you were finally able to finish getting ready for bed, you curled up at the window nook to look outside, where the air was still bitter and cold but the harsh winds had subsided and the moon was reflecting prettily over the frozen lake north of the palace. 

It looked calm and peaceful—you thought there was a beauty to Snezhnaya that was unique. The Hydro Archon and her acolytes liked to frame the nation as one big frozen wasteland but the more time you spent there, the more you realized that it was just not true. It was frozen, yes, but there were towering trees and massive lakes, the snow sparkled beneath the sun and moon in a way you’d never seen before.

You pressed the pad of your finger against the glass, a longing feeling sweeping over you as your eyes focused on the line of trees on the opposite side of the frozen lake. You thought that this might be your chance—the storms had subsided, you could make a break for it, but you knew deep down that the lack of storm was a deception you couldn’t afford to fall for. Just because the winds had died and the snow and ice had stopped falling, it didn’t mean that it was safe enough to travel through. You would still freeze. Perhaps if you had a pyro vision, it would be different but your hydro vision would do nothing to protect you against the cold.

You sighed, laying your forehead against the window and letting the chilly feeling spread through you, a stark contrast from the warmth of the fireplace emanating throughout your room. 

You wondered if you made a mistake. You had antagonized Pantalone, and he had likely antagonized Dottore on your behalf. It had felt good in the moment—a sharp jab that relieved some of the heavy pressure that isolation had put on you, but now the pressure was back and worse than before. 

You were not wondering. You knew it had been a mistake. 

Even if Brighella had been telling the truth and you held more power than Pantalone was leading you to believe, you couldn’t afford to isolate yourself from the option he presented. Dottore clearly trusted him enough to trust him with you, which you thought was about the biggest show of trust anyone could get from the Second.

And neither of them trusted Brighella. 

Your pride and anger had gotten the best of you—they had gotten the best of you when you had thought you had been in control. You laid everything out logically, convinced yourself that the option Brighella posed was just as appealing as Pantalone, forgetting that at the very least, Dottore and Pantalone were known threats to you. That yes, Pantalone wanted to use you and Dottore wanted nothing to do with you, but neither of them would risk your safety. Brighella was an unknown, just a charming and manipulative one that knew precisely when and how to strike.

You weren’t cut out for this. You let your eyes slide shut as you tried to force away the tears building in them. Frustration, anger, desperation, they were all becoming too much for you to handle. You didn’t know what to do. If Brighella was telling the truth, he really was the key to getting what you want, but you couldn’t trust him, you didn’t know what his motives were. Behind the pretty eyes and glittering smile was a snake with venomous fangs that could clamp down at any moment. 

You thought the courts of Fontaine had prepared you for this but the Snezhnayan court and the heart of the Fatui was a beast that you were not equipped to deal with. The courts of Fontaine were a beast, you would never think otherwise, but you’d been foolish enough to let yourself believe that they were similar enough to Snezhnaya’s that you’d be able to handle it. 

In Fontaine, your name had power and words were as sharp and lethal as daggers—as long as you put on a pretty mask and an entertaining performance, you would survive, but the aristocrats and observers of justice would eat alive anyone who could not put on a convincing and beguiling show.

In Snezhnaya, your name meant nothing and the only coat of protection you could place over yourself was Dottore’s position in the Fatui, and his forced bond to you. Your mask was shattering the longer you were stuck in the cold, and the entertaining performances you were so adept at putting on were becoming more pathetic than anything else. Danger lurked around every corner, not even just those who wanted to kill you as a means to weaken the Doctor, but also those who hated you for the country you come from. You had seen the way one of the Harbingers had looked at you during the event, and having even one Harbinger against you meant that you had hundreds of subordinates out for your throat to try to gain her approval. 

You were well beyond your depth. A vast ocean all around you and the currents were dragging you under, water filling your lungs as you tried to thrash your way back to the surface but there was an anchor chained to your ankle that you simply couldn’t fight against. 

You took in a deep, shuddered breath. You thought back to the old prophecy, the one that whispered that one day Fontaine and all of its citizens would be washed away by the rising waters, drowned by that which is supposed to protect them, finding their eternal rest in the sands until they became one with the sea. 

Sometimes you wondered if it was a literal or metaphorical fate, you had always taken it as literal and dismissed it as an old wives’ tale, but now you were questioning everything you held as true: you felt like you were drowning, your identity dissolving as the water closed in around you, and you felt helpless to it, just like how the ancient prophecy threatened.

Finally, you raised your head and looked back outside, eyes widening when you caught sight of a figure standing in the frame of your door through the reflection of the window, tall and imposing. You hadn’t even heard the door open. Even with the mask, you could feel the coldness behind his gaze. 

He only spoke one word:

“Come.”

reblogs appreciated!

All that's left.

“I know you’re there.”

Levi called out, startling you. You’ve been watching him from the side of the wreck, watching as the ghosts of your comrades appeared for one last time, one last salute. One last declaration of all they dedicated. One last goodbye.

And when Hange gave you a nod, you nodded back.

You two are all that's left.

You stayed out of his sight even after they disappeared, giving him the privacy to mourn. God knows he needed it. You didn’t think he had noticed your presence, but then again, who were you trying to fool? His extraordinary instincts were never to be underestimated.

Sighing, you pushed yourself to stand straight and stumbled forward. He glanced at you with the side of his eye. Ever resilient, ever strong, the cracks were so slight, just barely there. But you knew. You could always tell.

“Hi.” You mumbled. He stared at you as you dragged yourself in front of him, slightly limping.

“Nice of you to make it out alive.” He said.

“Who would’ve thought?” You shrugged.

“You made an ugly titan by the way.”

“I’m sure you would’ve looked charming.”

“Bet.”

You smiled. The conversation was so unbelievably normal. Here, in the wreckage of everything, all the corpses, smoke, blood and ruins, here you were, back to how it always was. It almost felt surreal. Almost as if you concentrated hard enough, all of it would go away and you’d find you and him back in the soggy cafeteria of the scout headquarters, back to bantering with him and arguing about silly little things that don't really deserve arguments but it’s you and Levi so of course it’d end up an argument.

You felt so old suddenly.

How come you ended up here? In this way?

And Levi looked so tired, you could cry. Hasn’t he given enough? Doesn’t he get to rest now?

“Does that..” You glanced down at his leg, the one he had spread out in front of him. It was clear it was beyond repair. The fabric of his pants were torn at the knee, from where it was crushed between the titan’s jaw, a bloody, mangled mess. “Does that hurt?”

“Not really, no.” His eyes went to where yours were. “Numbed down a while ago. Can’t feel shit really.”

You sighed. "Not very humanity's strongest anymore, huh?"

Levi raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?" He said. "Careful, I could still kick your ass."

"I'm sure."

You grinned. Then went ahead and dropped yourself beside him. He frowned.

“Shouldn’t we be getting up now?” He said. “Why are you getting all comfortable?”

“Why not?” You muttered, pulling your legs upto your chest, hugging them. “What’s it matter what we do or not? Armin’s the hot shit now, let him deal with shit.”

He didn’t answer, but he made no attempt to get up either. If anything, he looked more relaxed. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to spend the rest of your life here. After all, you were so tired, and you were sure he was too. This was as good as anywhere else would be.

Because there’s no home to return to anymore.

“Do you think there’s anything left of Hange to bury?” He suddenly said.

You shuddered. What do you answer to that?

And your head pounded so hard, you couldn’t really think. Far away, you could hear someone yelling at another someone, but you couldn’t bother to pay attention to the words. Armin and the others would figure something out surely.

You were exhausted.

“Say, Levi.” You said tiredly, nudging him slightly.

“What?”

“Wanna get married?”

Levi almost choked, he was suddenly all uptight, stiff as a board as he looked at you with wide eyes.

“What the fuck?” He asked, scowling. “Are you seriously gonna make jokes here? Here?”

“Not joking.”

You lifted up your head, tilting it to look at him. It was hard to tell whether he was annoyed or flustered. You’re not sure where the sudden boldness came from, but this is as good a time as any. Might as well. “You’re right. It’s a bad time to make jokes. So I’m dead serious.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am.” You nodded, turning your expression very serious.

“You’re weird as fuck.” He sputtered out after a few attempts to speak. The tips of his ears were red, red as it always was whenever you used to jokingly suggest that he should date you. Except you weren’t really joking anymore. You haven’t been joking for a long, long time.

“I mean..” You closed your eyes. You were too tired to even feel embarrassed. “We’re the only ones left. Me and you. You’re all I have left, Levi. So, why not?”

He stared at you for a few seconds, gaping. Then he started shaking his head. “You’re insane.” He finally said.

“You’re just realizing that?”

“No.” He muttered. “You’re insane. And it’s rubbing off on me.”

He turned to you, peering at you with one good eye, pondering. And finally, he made up his mind.

“You’re insane. And I’m no fucking different.” He sighed. “I must’ve hit my head pretty damn hard because I’m actually considering this shit.”

You grinned. “Go on, say it. You like me.”

“Wrong. I tolerate you.”

“Good enough. You don’t tolerate a lot of people, so I’ll take it as I'm special.”

He sighed, turning away, hoping that’s enough to hide his heart from you. You were special to him, always. But you didn’t need to know that. He didn’t want you to know that. He didn’t know how to let you know that.

“Can you believe us?” He scoffed. “We’re practically sitting in a graveyard. Half the world’s ruined but then there’s us.”

“That’s fine. Let’s keep being us. The world can go fuck itself. Meanwhile, we can—”

“Do not finish that sentence.” He glared.

You stopped, a laugh breaking through. And you laughed so hard your stomach ached and there were tears lining in your eyes. And even Levi smiled, just the slightest, barely. A subtle quirk of his mouth.

“We’re insane.” You admitted. With that, you stood up, stumbling a little before you found your balance. You reached out your hand to Levi, who took it without question.

“Come on, Lev.” You pulled him up, letting him wrap an arm around you to brace himself. “Let’s go home.”

You were right, Levi thinks as he limps with you, letting you support him. It was nice to finally let himself lean on someone.

You two are the only ones left.

You’re all he has now.

The world has taken enough from him. He’s so tired of letting go.

And he’d be damned if he let you go too.

Tee…

I’m now on my hands and knees BEGGING for bully Gojo who is (secretly) DISGUSTINGLY IN LOVE over the reader PLEASE ANY CRUMBS I WILL TAKE

(you don’t actually have to write this it was just a nice thought)

idkkkkk if it’s rly bully gojo—but he’s definitely a real cunt for sure.

i just think about an asshole! gojo a lot like he’s ur lab partners or something and he does that stereotypical jerk move where he’s like “seriously ?? her ??” when he’s first paired with you. and he’s just naturally an douche, yk ?? wears sunglasses indoors and makes jokes at the professors expense under his breath that gets him snickers and snorts from his frat guys in his class. has to be asked more than once to “please keep it down in the middle of class” by wtv prof he’s in class with.

and he ofc makes u do all the work bc he can’t be bothered—and on the rare occasion that he is bothered, he just does a poor job that’s the bare minimum and sloppy enough that ur like wtv i’ll just do it myself. and then ofc sometimes u don’t have a choice but to meet up to finish something after class every now and then—he wouldn’t care to, but he actually needs to know the stuff for the final report he has to write individually, so he begrudgingly meets up with you, and sometimes you notice his friends give you an amused look when he walks up with them. they snicker before they leave as he sits with you. sometimes they make a snide comment here and there like “have fun with ur super hot date” that makes him roll his eyes—he doesn’t do much to hide the look of distaste on his face.

but then—and he doesn’t even know when it happens—you start to slowly grow on him. because ur actually pretty snarky urself, sometimes making a dry comment here and there about the professor and his stupid bald headed self. sometimes a girl in the distance laughs too hard a group of guys that u roll ur eyes and mumble how “if i had a voice like that i’d never laugh in public” and it makes him snort a bit without meaning to. sometimes you stare daggers at the person who has their music so loud thru their headphones they can’t help but notice u and turn it down in embarrassment. ur actually not as much of a pushover as he thought—you just genuinely think he’s too incapable to help u out that you’ve just shrugged him off and started doing his part. it’s an easy weekly lab class anyway, you don’t need him—and then he realizes that u rly just don’t care for him. his little snickers at u with his friends and their snide comments roll off ur back bc well…he’s him—an asshole little frat boy and u didn’t expect anything better from him. so it makes him a little intrigued—maybe a little wounded in his pride, deep down, because no one has ever been indifferent to him before. they’re either madly in love, or they hate his guts, or they follow his lead. either works—he still gets the attention he craves.

but u just don’t rly care. and ur actually pretty cool, and kinda sorta funny in a way no one else is. he likes it…and fuck, now he’s starting to like you. he can tell bc when his friends ask how his little date with you went, he starts getting a bit huffy ab it bc they don’t need to talk about you. they don’t even know you…but also….its not a date. and that’s the worst part. sometimes it feels like a date. almost—sometimes you both decide to take a break in between and go get a coffee or a light snack. sometimes he’s even paid (to which you look mildly shocked before politely thanking him) and you both walk back to the library while u make light banter and it’s…well, fun. and nice. and your laugh is pretty. and your smile is kinda cute and he (though he hates to admit it) rly likes it when u laugh because of him.

and then things start to get messy—really, he didn’t mean for it to start this way. he really was meaning to ask you in a genuine manner to see u again once the semester was finished. because he’s actually started pulling his weight—he wants u to see him for someone who’s smart. satoru is actually rly rly smart and no one knows it because he doesn’t rly show it but he is. he wants u to see that side of him—somehow there’s some sick validation he rly needs from you knowing he’s not a dense frat guy who drinks and fucks until 3 am every night. so he starts doing his parts and actually communicates with u about sections. so starts ur texting routine—sometimes a little longer than u rly need to for just doing a lab together. sometimes it’s “did u hear ab that girl in our class getting dumped in front of the kfc ??” and sometimes it’s “god our prof rly needs to get some pussy” and other times it’s “look what the guy who sits behind us just posted on his story” and it leads to a few long convos that admittedly…are rly fun. ur so fun. he likes it. he rly does like u and he thinks maybe….maybe he’s grown on u too and you know what ?? satoru’s always a jerk but ur nice and who’s to say he can’t be nice too ?? just for one person. for u, he can be a nice guy—u carried lab all on ur own long enough that u deserve it anyway.

until he gets swayed in that way only a coward can. in that way you do when ur used to being “the man” around ur friends and ur too pressured to keep up that energy for appearances sake bc u don’t wanna be the laughing stock who softened up for “some nerdy chick who’s a nobody.” so he laughs when they laugh at the fact that ur probably “still a virgin who’s never touched a guy before” and then they’re patting gojo on the back and shoving at his shoulder as they laugh harder and suggest that “y’know what would be so funny man ?? if u took her virginity. you could probably do it.”

the thought is sickening because…satoru wouldn’t want to fuck you like that. god, you have him caring about when and how he fucks you—in fact, just thinking about you lewdly makes him feel guilty. disrespectful, even. you’re more than a fleshlight for his dick. since when did he become so respectful ?? but he doesn’t know how to say no, especially when everyone starts agreeing one after the other—and oh no, now they’re betting on how quickly he can do it….and oh, now it’s not just fucking. now it’s “how long until you think she’s head over heels for you? man, that would be a sight, huh ??”

and….well, satoru decides it couldn’t hurt, right ?? he does want to be romantically involved so that would include you being head over heels. hopefully. fingers crossed. and he doesn’t rly want to seem lame in front of the guys either, so he gets to keep both sides of the coin, so is it really that bad ?? maybe not the right idea but certainly the right execution. he’ll treat you well—that much he’s confident of. so he forces out a laugh and says “gimme a month or two, you’ll see.”

and a month or two they give him. and a month or two it takes—but not for you to be head over heels. it’s him who’s utterly and completely obsessed and fallen head first and whatever else they say to describe love because wow. this must be what it is. this must be that stupid fairytale shit they always talk about because fuck, no one has ever looked at him like that. like he’s some miracle to this earth and some wonder only you know of—like you hope it stays that way and that he’s yours and yours alone and no one else comes in to take him away. satoru really likes being yours, it kinda feels better than you being his. being yours means you hold him like that at night and wake him up to a kiss between his brows and sometimes, when he gets those migraines he’s prone to getting, you always seem to know. always seem to understand when to close the blinds and keep quiet and wrap him up in the covers as you rub your thumbs over his temples soothingly.

he almost forgets about that silly little bet he made two months ago when he’s around you. actually, he forgets everything when he’s around you. he’s only ever thinking about you, you, you. when he comes back to his frat house, on the other hand, they’re all gathered around waiting for the newest details. how you must’ve been so pathetically star struck by him. how you must be embarrassingly bad at kissing. how you must stutter over every other word around him. how you must be making a complete and utter fool of urself trying to impress him and be someone you’re not bc the real you would never pique his interest.

they’re wrong ofc. if anyone’s star struck, it’s satoru bc how the hell are u so…cool ?? and so funny and witty and carefree ?? and you’re good at kissing—have him chasing your lips with a whine every time. sometimes you even chuckle at him when he does and make him blush a bit. he’s the one who stutters over his words when he sees you in your little date night outfits. sometimes he watches you drink from your straw and his brain short circuits a little until you snap at him and ask him in confusion if he’s alright. but the real kicker ?? it’s that if anyone’s pretending, it’s satoru. you’re always just you—unapologetically so, that it’s endearing and beautiful and so unearthly he wonders how he got so lucky. but him ?? he’s always acting like some guy he’s not. some chivalrous guy who opens doors and pushes out seats and kisses the back of hands and waits at least a few dates before even considering fucking. some nice, sweet, genuine guy who’s deserving.

he’s not that—never was. if you knew the real him, you’d leave in a heartbeat. it’s a scary thought. a raw feeling he doesn’t like. makes him feel all self conscious and insecure and all that weird shit he never thought he’d feel.

he tries. so hard, he tries to make them forget about that silly little bet and just slowly drop it and maybe even forget ur dating so he can just stay living this peaceful little fantasy with you—but that’s stupid. that’s naive. it’s been 4 months and enough is enough—the guys need to see the look on ur face when u realize what a fool ur being and satoru is “being a lazy ass who’s too comfortable not having for work for pussy these days.” so then there’s a video going around. it’s everyone gathered around on the couch drunk and talking about you. and satoru. you both, in fact. how it’s been two months and u seem desperate for his attention with the shrill little voice you use to call him toru, baby! it’s so, so fucking embarrassing, they say. how you think he likes it. (he does. god he does so much, it hurts. he loves it, actually, when you call him that. makes him feel special in a way he never has.) but then, the worst, most disgustingly nauseous part of the whole thing is when satoru laughs along and plays into their awful words. just lets them talk about you like you’re some piece of meat. something for him to chew up and spit out after he has a taste or you. not even worth savoring and enjoying. he laughs along and agrees—you’re nothing special and he can’t wait until he’s free of you.

that part hurts. that part sucks the most—when he acts like he didn’t tremble under your touch every time you kissed him. like he didn’t beg you to stay just five more minutes! before walking out the door to go home. he acts one way in front of you and one way in front of them and what’s worse ?? you don’t know which one is real. couldn’t tell even if your life was on the line to decide. because there’s no way he’s that good at pretending to be desperately in love, no fucking way. but there’s also no way he can be in love if he’s talking about you like that. that’s not what love is—that’s not what love feels like. that’s not what it means to someone.

you don’t know which satoru is the real one, but you know that neither is worth your time. not if he can’t stick to it.

it’s terrible thing—the way you break up. it’s messy and teary and he’s begging, he’s actually begging. he never thought he’d do that. but he doesn’t even hesitate to plead for you to hear him out. baby, please let me explain. wait, please don’t walk away—please just listen! i can explain.

he can’t explain, though when you as him to. stands there with a bitten bottom lip and teary eyes that are pleading you to just stay with him. to overlook this and just … ignore it like it’s nothing. like what he did and said was just nothing and you can shrug it off like you’re nothing too. like your feelings are nothing and so is your worth and that’s why you should just ignore the way he absolutely destroyed your pride and reputation and dignity and worse….every ounce of your love.

such deep, raw, pure love—it’s almost enough to heal every dry crack and crevice of this earth and bring it back to life.

you look at him with teary eyes and something so broken, it makes him feel like dirt beneath your feet.

“it’s embarrassing, satoru,” you hiss that night through tears, “you’re in your twenties getting a degree and you’re still just a high school bully. life’s really gonna kick you in the ass some day.”

life’s already kicking him in the ass as soon as you walk out. the air is colder. the world is dimmer. food doesn’t taste as good and fuck—there is just so much loneliness when you have no one to be yourself with. when there’s no you.

but he supposes you’re right though—he is just a bully. it’s pathetic, really. and maybe it’s for the best. maybe you don’t deserve someone who’s only ever known how to feel good because someone else doesn’t.