#And being stared at by thousands of eyes is horrific

[crescenthistory]

hii 🫶🏻🫶🏻!

im not sure if you've written for james potter before, but if you're up for it, could i request d5 with him? i thought like, reader is a slytherin and she fooled around with barty while she was with james. also not sure if you're okay with writing cheating, (feel free to ignore this is you're not!)

hi lovie! thank you for your request<3 i don't vibe with cheating storylines, but this inspired me to write a one-shot of james pining for reader but thinking she's with barty because they're such close friends. i hope that still scratches your itch!

Prompt: D.5 "But do you love me?" changed into "But you are in love with me?"

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, slytherin!reader (sassy/feisty), use of y/n, james pov which includes relentless pining and silly comments, genuine yearning, miscommunication, bsf!barty, slight jealousy/envy, some self-deprecation, background skittles rosekiller and dorlene

The Boy with the Glasses is Blind

James could have kicked himself.

Despite what some professors insinuate, he is usually quite bright – he just so happens to prefer dedicating his intellect to good-willed humour and pranksting rather than gruelling essays that have already been written a thousand times before. He felt he had properly demonstrated his abilities for creativity and strategy with everything he had pulled off over the years, both the pranks he took credit for and the ones they were never able to pin on him.

Yet, here he was.

Sitting in the Transfiguration class shared by most Gryffindors and Slytherins in their year, where Professor McGonnagal in some horrific – in James' previous sentiments – attempt to bridge some gaps and mend some fences, seated a Slytherin and a Gryffindor together at every table. Sitting beside you, the one Slytherin he had never seemed to fully dislike nor target with his more insidious of pranks, but a Slytherin nonetheless, and attached at the hip with one Barty Crouch Junior.

Yes, here he was, sitting beside you and staring at you with what most look like cartoonish heart eyes.

It was not something he necessarily expected to happen, at least not to this extent. You had always held his interest, a fascinating person from who you were to how you spoke and where you placed yourself in society, but it was easily brushed off in the flurry of everything else that surrounded the young boy. In here, he couldn't escape you as easily, and once he realised just what he had been depriving himself of in his avoidance of you, he couldn't escape you even when you weren't around. To him, you were everywhere.

James Fleamont Potter was falling more head over heels in love with a Slytherin with every passing minute. Sirius would have kicked him blue and yellow had he dared open his mouth and voice what was running through his mind when he admired you. Though, James supposed, some of those thoughts were perhaps best never uttered out loud to anyone.

He really couldn't help himself, he thought, it was all your fault for being so sodding angelically flawless. From the first lesson when you playfully threatened him to "behave, Potter, and not soil my education with your unruliness" with that glimmer in your eyes that felt like it must have been reserved for him from a previous life, he has had to pick his jaw up from the floor whenever your eyes meet. The way you carried yourself with a lightheartedness and crackling self-assurance, the way your hair cascaded around you as you turned to him, the way your occasionally crude words towards him were softened by your exuberant tone, as if you took as much pleasure from your back-and-forth exchanges as he did, but with none of the guffawing – a stronger man would have faltered, and James had no qualms about admitting that for you, he was rather weak.

And then there was the way you grinned with your whole body whenever you spoke to your friends and your–

And therein lies the issue.

No gem can sparkle that brightly and not be picked up and admired. To anyone with eyes, let alone ears, it was painfully clear that one Barty Crouch Junior had already snatched up his Treasure, as he called you. James was too late.

The nickname felt tacky in James' mouth as he silently felt around it, trying to figure out what it would feel like to have you as he does. It felt too cheesy, not elegant enough for someone like you, not perfect enough, though James supposes nothing quite could be. Nor was he any better himself, angels and loves had already slipped from his tongue, only to be laughed away as a quip and not a confession – and he didn't even have the right to, not the way Junior did.

You were seated beside James, he could imagine himself feeling your body heat seeping through your clothes and into his if he inched even a centimetre or two closer to you. He could hear your laughter in his ears, he captured the smile in your eyes with his own as often as he could, but even here, within his direct vicinity, he saw the effect Barty had on you. How the two of you seemed to be able to communicate with limited words, mostly through glances and silly facial expressions from where he sat a few rows ahead, fully twisted in his chair to get a good look at you.

James couldn't blame him. It was how he wanted to turn around and stare at you whenever you were near him as well. That maniacal grin on Junior's lips was something James wanted to resent, but also wondered if he would be wearing himself, if he was allowed to brandish it on you.

Unlike Junior, though, he couldn't. James is not a jealous man, he felt he owed his father not to be, but there were few words to describe the sensation building in his throat other than envy. And, perhaps most painfully, a yearning so significant it ached its way through his bones until he was left pliable and broken.

"You with me, Potter?"

James' smile smacked right back onto his lips, albeit slightly more forced than normal as he forced his eyes away – from what he hoped seemed like Junior's general direction and not him specifically – to lock onto yours. There was a quizzical expression on your face and mirth playing over your lips, your soft, beautiful lips.

"Yeah," James made out hoarsely, clearing his throat. "Early mornin' s'all."

The mirth stretched out into a wide, teasing grin on your face, and although James was certain it was at his expense, it melted his own smile into a more genuine one. "Uh-huh. What's made you so tired? You're usually caffeine incarnated first thing in the morning."

"Are you saying you're missing my usual self, love?" Easy, easy, keep it easy.

"I'm saying you're suspicious," you replied with a gleam in your eyes. "Although, you always are. Perhaps it would be suspicious if you weren't behaving suspiciously."

James laughed a bit too loudly at that, warmth spreading in his stomach. "Don't go philosophical on me, L/N."

"I won't, if you don't go boring on me. Transfiguration's enough of a chore as it is."

Pride bloomed out of the spot envy inhabited in James' throat. Somehow he felt just as guilty for both of them, and was just as unable to suppress it as it flowed into his bloodstream.

"Well, when I know you're missin' me so, I can't very well let my best girl down, can I?"

"What a presumptuous young man," you say, words becoming a whisper as McGonnagal walks in to begin her lecture. Despite your smug smile as you said so, James couldn't help but feel slightly rattled at you pointing out the truth to him.

He righted himself in his seat and attempted to dedicate his attention to the Head of Gryffindor, which, unfortunately, he had never been good at even before his entire mind, body and soul seemed to be possessed by the stunner sitting beside him in class. His eyes kept darting over to you, smiling at your facial expressions, even more so when you occasionally caught his gaze with a smile of your own. A strand of hair fell out of your hairstyle as you cocked your head to look at him. James couldn't decide whether he wanted it to stay messy or if he wanted to be the one to tuck it back in for you. His hands remained drumming on the desk.

He attempted to focus up on the lecture, but poor Minnie's voice simply became droning to him when his nose was filled with the smell of you, making him slightly lightheaded. And Merlin, the way you were biting your lip while you took notes – it was an actual miracle he hadn’t melted into a puddle on the classroom floor by now.

Then, his attention was abruptly captured by a small piece of parchment whirring right past his face to force itself into your hand on the desk. You were shaking, smiling over the lip you were still biting as you opened it.

James – in a totally cool non-creepy fashion, of course – tried to get a good luck at the note, but couldn't without giving it away. What he definitely could tell, though, was how Junior was snickering at you over his shoulder like a hyena. Not the borderline scary snicker James had been victim of before, but a fond one, like you were sharing a secret together just the two of you.

Unable to watch more of your reaction, James looked back onto the desk, willing himself away.

You were never one to allow him reprieve, giving him a discreet poke with your wand. When he looked up, your head was in your hand and you were leaning your head sideways to look at him. “Daydreaming again, Potter?” you whispered.

His cheeks burned. “Not a chance,” he responded a bit too quickly, causing you to smile in delight as you leaned closer to him. His heart gave a particularly hard thud at that.

“Are you sure? Because you’ve been staring at my notes for a few minutes, and last I checked, you don’t even take notes. So it's clearly no ruse to copy me.”

“I take notes!" James tried to retort, but when you levelled him with a stare he just smiled indulgently at you instead. "Occasionally."

"Yeah, you're a total swot, babe," you laughed quietly, shooting McGonnagal a quick glance to make sure you're still being discreet.

He knows you're messing with him, he knows it's just colloquialism, but he would have paid embarrassing amounts for you to call him that again.

"Very well might be, you're quite contagious, angel." The slight snort that escaped you at that probably made his day.

“Uh-huh,” you said softly, for the second time that lesson. “Whatever you say, Gryffindor.”

By the grace of Godric, McGonagall dismissed class before James combusted like he thought he would. He exhaled in relief, but it was short-lived as his nerves shot up as you began to pack your stuff, knowing he won't see you again until dinner. Not that he had memorised your schedule, or anything.

He opened his mouth, hoping to think of something clever and smooth to keep your attention for even a second longer, when your usual company approached your shared desk. He heard Junior's laugh before he saw him, eyes still trained on you, and when he turned Barty, Dorcas and Evan had formed some circle around you, chattering away with a casualness he rarely witnessed up close.

“Tomorrow’s going to be incredible,” Dorcas exclaimed almost-giddily, pulling her scarf up around her neck. “I can't wait to let off some steam finally."

“Oh, I'm sure you will, Cas,” you replied teasingly, pointing a finger at her teasingly. "Asked a certain blonde to join you yet?"

"How about you mind your business, Missy?" She shot back trying to shove your face away, but you dodged, using James' arm as a shield. He felt like a mannequin the way he stood beside you, almost dumbly, frozen by the exchange.

Evan just snickered. “Good luck prying Barty away from the game section, he's still pissy about last time."

"You mean when he gambled away all–" Dorcas was shut up with a quick silencio from Barty, which she quickly fought through and stuck her tongue out at him for.

"Hearsay and goss, I tell you!" Barty declared, shoving Evan aside to come stand beside you, arm circling around your waist. "I almost didn't go this year, I'm only joining because Treasure here practically threatened me to."

"Yeah, how dare you even consider leaving me to the wolves," you retorted to him at the same time as Dorcas murmurs something about "yeah, didn't wanna go because you lost so bad".

"Nah, we can't have that," Barty agreed with you while shooting Dorcas a glare, and then he – to James' utter pain and heartbreak – pressed a kiss to the top of your head while squeezing your hip.

Nevermind that it was a quick kiss, nevermind that you laughed at him. James just saw lips against skin.

Now that Junior was basically cuddling you standing up (James wanted no corrections calling this description an exaggeration), James had gravitated further away from you. He may have lost his mind with this whole lovesickness, but he respected you, your choices and your space. With the way you were throwing your head back laughing with your friends about some plans James didn't even know about, he knew he was not wanted nor needed here.

Pulling his bag closer towards his body, he gave a quick nod to no one in particular and turned around, headed towards the door.

"James, wait up!"

Your voice cut through his mind's ramblings, as it always does, and your use of his first name brought flowers to his vision once more. He turned around, hoping to look mostly casual but he's sure his face was an open book. His eyes zeroed in on you walking towards him, leaving your group of friends and Junior behind, but he heard a telltale laughter and he hoped it wasn't at how stupidly in love he looked with someone he could never have.

James blinked at you in confusion as you stopped before him, but you just wore the simplest smile on your face.

“Want to take a walk with me?” you asked, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"What?" he asked dumbly.

There was mirth in your gaze when you repeated your question. "We both have a free period now, I usually spend it in our common room. But I'm asking if you want to take a walk with me instead?"

James had to physically restrain himself from replying "I know" when you disclosed your habit, while also wondering how and why you came to know his schedule.

He managed to sputter out a response. “Yeah, yes, of course.” He couldn’t quite stop the grin from spreading across his face, and he felt a bit like an overeager puppy, but you didn’t seem to mind. In fact, you looked rather pleased, which only made his heart race faster.

"Enthusiasm gets you everywhere, Potter," you responded calmly, falling into step with him as you led him out of the classroom, leading him down the less-frequented hallways. The road less travelled by.

The two of you strolled down the corridor, side by side, with the chilly autumn breeze filtering through an open window. James wanted to say something witty, something that would make you laugh, but he was mostly in his head, confused about everything that transpired the past few minutes.

"What's that about the fair?" He decided that was safe territory, though he feared having you recount all your plans with Junior there.

"Oh, you have no idea," you started excitedly. James pretended it didn’t cut a bit that he had no idea. "It's this annual fair that Pandora – you know, Rosier – discovered back in fourth. It's got the weirdest, coolest booths and games you'll ever see, with performances from unique professionals. It usually changes every year, last time it was a fire manipulator and a necromancer."

Upon James' quirked brow at you finding fire and necromancy the coolest, you continued. "Come on, you Marauders would have loved it. There's prank ideas and props to last you for months. And there's great food as well."

"Okay, okay," James laughed as he maintained eye contact with you. "I believe you, sounds fun. I hope you guys enjoy it."

If James wasn't as bright as he was, he might have mistook the flash of emotion across your face as a small bout of uncertainty or insecurity.

"Actually, that's something I wanted to ask you about," you started, trailing off as you stopped by one of the larger windows in the hallway, leaning against the windowsill. He followed your example, attention wholly on you. "We have this tradition, my friends and I, that we use the fair as an opportunity to challenge ourselves in some way, do something that... I guess something that scares us."

James just nodded, keeping his attention on you as his heart beats in his chest. Your smile turned a bit rueful.

"That's actually what I was messing with Cas about earlier," you continued. "She's finally asking your friend Marlene out on a date, to go with her to the fair."

That's what you wanted to talk about? James admired you almost more for how dedicated you were to your friends.

"I can tell you without a doubt that Marls would say yes," he reassured you with a smile. "Those two have been a work in progress for ages."

"For so long, it's been physically painful to witness," you laughed. That sound is anything but painful to witness.

James hummed in response, laughter rumbling through his chest as he continued to take you in, scanning your face.

"What are you doing that scares you?" he asked before he could stop himself.

You took a deep breath, chin up in that almost defiant way as you held his gaze. "I'm actually following in Dorcas' footsteps... or I guess perhaps beating her to it, seeing as she hasn't yet."

James blinked at you, clueless as to what you're leading up to.

"I wondered if you wanted to go with me to the fair?"

He felt as if he had been slapped in the face and like he was coming up for air after a long snog. He didn't really know what he felt, just that it was a lot, too much, even for him.

"I'd love to," he blurted out with a breath, words scrambling together. Then, his brows furrowed in confusion as he tried to understand your sentence. "I mean– with me, are you sure? Aren't you going with, erm, with Junior?"

You gave him a puzzled look, cocking your head at him as if he had said something entirely irrelevant. "What do you mean?"

James looked sheepish and couldn’t quite meet your gaze over the sound of his own heart breaking. "I mean, it would be really nice to go with you to the fair, anywhere really, but wouldn't Junior mind?"

"Barty–" You cut yourself off, still looking confused. "Barty's the one who's been encouraging me to ask you out, actually. What are you on about?"

"Why?" was all James could breathe out, world unravelling in a way that made his stomach twist with painful hope.

"Um, because I like you? And unless I have suddenly lost all my interpretation skills, I am quite certain you've been fond of me for quite some time too, Potter."

"I am, but– wait– you are? What?" James guffawed. His intense confusion irritated his skin apparently because he had a sudden urge to scratch the back of his neck, his upper arms and pretty much any other piece of flesh. Maybe the embarrassment could be peeled off that way.

Despite it all, you laughed heartily and, what James was beginning to realise, bemusedly maybe even adoringly at his failure to speak. It seemed like you had pieced together everything he couldn't.

"Yeah, I like you, you sod. Think I just flirt with everyone?"

An "I hope not" lies on the tip of his tongue, but instead he shook his head in admonishment.

"Snake's got your tongue, babe?" you asked him, taking a taunting step closer.

"Looks like it," James mumbled, eyes zeroed in on your face as heat rose to his own. Growing bolder in your declaration, he continued, "I suppose I'm just confused. I always thought you were with Junior? That you two were... in love."

The last words brought a grimace to his lips, like it pained him to say. As if on instinct, your hand shot forward to wipe beneath his bottom lip to coax the frown off his face. His lips parted in shock and suspense at your touch and when you seemed to realise what you had done, you pulled your hand back quickly. You had the decency to look slightly flustered after that, allowing him some semblance of a more even playing field.

"No, James," you whispered with a smile as you shook your head. "Barty is my best friend and I love him with my whole heart. But I never have, and never will be in love with him. Him and Evan have been an item for, like, ages."

Finally, a brilliant smile – one you would later describe to him "shone like the sun" to which he attacked you with kisses because "that's so sodding cute of you to say, you sappy romantic" – took over his face.

Without thinking, he stepped closer to you, hand coming up to brush carefully against your cheek as you looked wide-eyed at his positivity and adoration now radiating off of him. "But you're in love with me?" he whispered with rapture, up to speed at last.

It took you a moment before you chuckled lightly, sheepishly looking down at your feet before once more meeting his piercing gaze.

"How about we start with that date, and see where it goes from there, huh pretty boy?"

So, yes, James most certainly could have and probably should have kicked himself – but right now, he found that he had other business he would much rather attend to.

[coff33andb00ks]

İdk i just got hit with this shitty idea 😭😭 drabble list thingy 5 40 60 64 and 70. BUT WITH ACADEMIC RIVAL OSCAR? IDK ITS KINDA STUPİD BUT STİLL 😭😭

driver + number = drabble <3

warning: author knows nothing about academia 😳

"Idiots, they're all idiots."

You glanced up at the sound of his voice, perplexed. Then, realizing he couldn't possibly be talking to you, you turned back to your work. You'd come here in the hopes that you'd be able to finish your paper without the distractions in your dorm, and so far–

Thud.

The heavy backpack landed on the tabletop with much more force than necessary and you glared at its owner, who - horrifically - was pulling out the chair across from you. As usual he was wearing his stupid burgundy shirt under his stupid black hoodie, and his hair was falling into his eyes with that stupid little swoop.

The only thing stupid about Oscar Piastri was his lack of style.

"You don't mind do you?" he asked, already settling into the chair with his coffee.

"I'm annoyed, to put it mildly," you muttered, staring at the backpack crushing the corner of your pencil pouch.

"Ah well, the feeling's mutual." He pulled his backpack towards him and threw down a copy of the local newspaper. Odd, that he actually read a physical newspaper instead of getting his news online like everyone else born after 1985.

You carefully maneuvered your pencil pouch closer to yourself and tried to focus on your paper. Intent to ignore him, you managed to type out two whole sentences before he snapped open the newspaper. Darting your eyes towards him, you watched the morning sunlight dance over the angle of his jaw.

Too bad he was such an insufferable know it all. Half the students that you knew from the classes you shared with him called him Hermes Granger behind his back, he was that bad. Always had the correct answers in lecture. Always top marks. Always, always, always, while you were just behind him.

Except the one time, but he'd been in hospital due to his roommate Lando accidentally tripping him and fracturing his rib, so that didn't really count.

"Did you hear about this?" he asked suddenly, thrusting the newspaper in your direction.

You looked from the paper to him, half expecting him to pull it away before you could take it. He didn't though, and you turned it so you could read the small headline.

No Evidence of Foul Play in Missing Money

Frowning, you read the small blurb about thousands of dollars that had seemingly vanished from a local charity. "How can there be no foul play?" you asked after reading it through twice. "It was there one day and gone the next."

Oscar nodded. "Exactly. And you know who's on the board, right?"

"Dude, I barely know my roommate's name most days..."

"Yeah I reckon you've got too many classes–"

You narrowed your eyes at that, missing half of the rest of what he said.

"–the mayor."

You snorted on a laugh. "Are you insinuating the mayor stole the money?"

He wasn't laughing. Or smiling. In fact, you were pretty sure you'd never seen Oscar smile. Well, that pained half smile when Lando dragged him to a party, but otherwise...

"You can't be serious," you said. "He's the mayor. He's got plenty of money."

"Does he?"

Rolling your eyes, you slid your laptop close and tried to focus on your work again. "Didn't have you down as a conspiracy theorist."

"It's not a conspiracy theory though?"

"The mayor, who lives in a mansion and drives a Ferrari, stealing ten thousand dollars from a charity?"

"People in power have stolen less. He's very good at hiding secrets. Like his brother's company being behind the factory buyout last year? The government doesn't want you to know this, but every one of them are crooked."

"What do they put in your coffee?" you asked with a roll of your eyes. "Do you get a tinfoil hat to go with it?"

He scoffed. "I thought you were smart."

That surprised you. You didn't think Oscar thought about you at all. "So what do you suggest, Oscar? We storm city hall and demand the mayor give the money back?"

He pursed his lips and dipped his head to one side as though to indicate the idea had merit. "Or we could sneak in after hours and poke around."

"Break into the mayor's office," you clarified.

He nodded. "Tonight after dinner?"

"Set off alarms, get arrested, and go to jail."

He winced. "Yeah, maybe not our brightest idea."

"Excuse me, did you–"

"But we can still do dinner, yeah?"

"Idiots. They are all idiots." / "I'm annoyed, to say it mildly." / "The feeling is mutual." / "The government doesn't want you to know about this." / "Not our brightest idea."

[azen13]

The Lives and Losses of Lovers

Description: This is actually inspired by a post by @lum1nesc3nce, which you can find here! TLDR: Zhongli x God!Reader, where Zhongli kills his lover but they stay alive. This does have a bit more of a Yandere!Zhongli flavor, though, so be warned!

CW: Yandere Themes, Descriptions of Violence, Descriptions of Blood, Murder, Mild Gore,

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The patio is warm, blessed with the touch of the sun’s earliest rays. Already you and Zhongli sit in two comfortable chairs; he sips on tea, you on coffee. It is a scene that has played out a thousand times, yet one Zhongli never tires of. He never tires of seeing your face aglow, of feeling your body leaning against his, of knowing you are here, miraculously breathing life through your bones and skin.

“My dear, I was wondering,” Zhongli starts, his soft contemplative voice shattering the flimsy silence blanketing the porch. “Would you like to accompany me to Liyue Harbor to purchase some groceries?” It is a reward–he thinks as he revels in your surprised reaction–for how understanding you have been in these turbulent times. With the whole mess regarding the Fatui cleared up and a mundane mortal life ahead of him, Zhongli can afford to spend more moments with you in sweet, blissful love.

Perhaps one day it will make up for that vile scene years ago, the moment his heart became stone: your body splayed stunningly on the ground, looking like the most gilded, horrific masterpiece he had ever seen. Painted in sunlit hues, his spearhead sticking from your chest splattered with blood made of molten gold. 

Even nearly dying you looked breathtaking. 

He is still suffering from regret for the decision. At the time, the situation was looking grim; Guizhong and Azhdaha were both gone, leaving you his only close friend. He spent many moonlit nights sharing tea and hushed conversation, as well as tears and heartfelt confessions with you. Zhongli is not the god of words, but just the sight of your iridescent eyes made him want to tell you every trouble and every worry had. You were his most valuable treasure, his lover through and through. Your contract with him, to always stand by side, loyal to one another, made him so weak, so soft, so human.

But that was the issue. Everyone knew of his love, his tender affection; unbecoming of a god who wielded earth and stone as weapons. His life was plagued by phantoms day and night. When he dreamed he envisioned you being kidnapped by some evil god like Osial and being tortured. Killed. Doomed to a fate worse than death, even. In the day, every action you did reminded him of a delicate tree weathering a deluge. Your branches swayed in the intense winds and even the earth couldn’t anchor you.

So he pleaded. He begged you to stay tucked away in his private domain where no great evil could stalk after you, promising to love you for an eternity of eternities. He would love you until every mountain had become a valley. But you refused, saying you wanted to live every facet of life, turning the world like a kaleidoscope in your hands.

The mirrors shifted and the skies turned red.

Those prophecies he had dreamt, uttered to him by ghosts haunting his mind, came true. You were taken away by some pesky, lowly god, and confessed all that you knew. That was fine. Zhongli was made of stone and Cor Lapis, and even if this insignificant insect of a god knew his weaknesses–few as they were–Zhongli eviscerated them.

But the contract.

When the god was sealed away beneath the sea, Zhongli fell to his knees, mouth opened but unable to utter any words.

Zhongli is not the god of words.

It is horribly tragic, he mourns as he stares at your hollow expression, that you must face the wrath of the rock because of a ridiculous choice of words. “To always stand by his side.” You have technically betrayed him.

The earth shakes for weeks afterwards. The sudden freak earthquake is talked about for weeks on end before people move on, as life does. Zhongli does not. His memory of you remains petrified, his new specter. He will never truly love again for thousands of years. Every time he is reminded of you, a piece of his heart chips away

But then you came back. 

That day is amber, crystallized in his mind. Seeing you in the bustling streets of Liyue Harbor, so lost after centuries away from home. At that moment, Zhongli decides he will not make the same mistake twice. He would have preferred more time to draw you in carefully, but he is afraid now. Afraid that some hideous twist of fate will rip you from him again. So he whisks you away to his private domain, and drafts up a new contract, binding you to him in matrimony forever. 

Please forgive him, he begs after you sign the contract in gold, tears dripping down your cheeks. He only wishes to protect you; he has always wished to protect you. But the world is cruel to lovers, and not even the strong can uphold such a delicate thing. 

In Zhongli’s private domain, wicked things like time and fate are nonexistent. Zhongli is the only god that rules these lands. He is a benevolent god, if a little possessive. After being deprived of you for so long, he craves your presence, he claims. Day and night, he tries to spend every living moment with you. When he cannot, you are ever-present in his mind–a living, breathing thing instead of the dead spirits that once terrorized it for all those years.

Some days you seem despondent, craving room to spread your branches far and wide. But Zhongli simply chuckles and kisses the top of your head; he smells the gentle scent of your shampoo, knowing this is what is best for you. He whispers it quietly, lacing sweet nothings and honeyed words into his voice as he pulls you into his arms. You haven’t tried to fight him on this in years, either. It’s part of the reason why he has proposed going on a  little trip to Liyue Harbor. Perhaps if all goes well, he’ll allow more trips out of the private domain. All supervised by his watchful eye, of course. After a few moments of stunned surprise, you finally have the courage to speak. “I-I’d love to. Thank you, Zhongli,” you say quietly. Zhongli smiles, leaning to press a delicate kiss to your lips.

“You are very welcome, my treasure,” he whispers, a hand reaching to cup your face; his thumb reaches to brush your lips tenderly.

He can tell that you are still afraid of him, fearful that he will hurt you again. No matter. One day, Zhongli hopes, you will shed your fear like a caterpillar in chrysalis, and emerge into a glittering world full of Zhongli’s love for you. 

[joelalorian]

Through Every Lifetime

marcus moreno x f!reader | wc: 4579 | 18+ mdni | masterlist

Summary: Two souls find each other through every lifetime when love refuses to give up.

Warnings: Rated E for the naughty bits, 18+ minors mdni. A touch of angst, lots of fluff, some good ol' smut. Unprotected p in v, f!oral. Soulmate vibes. Young Missy. Reader has hair and skin of unspecified color. No ages mentioned other than Missy's. No use of y/n.

A/N: Thank you to @burntheedges for inspiring this piece with the Roll-A-Trope Challenge! I received "reincarnation" as the trope and went with Marcus Moreno because the man deserves a love story. Please check out all the other wonderful challenge entries here.

Dividers courtesy of @saradika-graphics

Smoke filled the air, stealing the oxygen from your lungs. Fellow villagers scrambled around you, choking on the ashes of their burning homes as you stared around in shock.

How could things have fallen apart so quickly?

Just hours ago, you and your fierce warrior met in the fields beneath a clear sky filled with the brightest stars you could remember seeing. The pair of you laid in the tall grasses, hidden safely from view of any villagers wandering in the midnight hour, and spoke of a future you hoped to spend together. You let your bodies to most of the talking, but there was no doubt that you and Marcus Moreno were meant for each other.

From the day you first set eyes on him, a weary warrior searching for a new home after the only one he knew was destroyed by raiders. Dirty and tired as he looked, Marcus was still the most gorgeous man you ever set eyes upon. Tall and broad, with dark, thick hair and eyes that pierced your soul, you were lost from that moment on.

The attraction? Mutual.

The bond? Instant.

The love? Everlasting.

It felt like you knew him for a thousand lifetimes yet there was so much more left to learn. He was an enigma to you.

The stories the old women of your village told around the fire as they cooked the plunders of the day’s hunt, of love and romance, made sense to you then. Marcus made you understand all of that.

A sharp cry of your name drew you back to the present, to the oppressive heat and thick air, to the crackling of wood burning, of your home being obliterated from existence.

Eyes darting wildly around the horrific scene before you, Marcus shouted your name again as he fought his way through the crowd of frantic villagers.

“Marcus!” you sobbed, falling into his arms the moment he reached you. “What is happening?”

“We’re being attacked! You need to get out of here, go with the other women and hide. Don’t let these men catch you, please!”

His tone something you never heard before, so hopeless and terrified, brought tears to your eyes. You only clutched him harder, refusing to let go.

“No! I can’t leave you!” Your voice cracked, knowing in your heart nothing good would come from leaving him. Nor would any good come from staying. Rock, meet hard place.

The sound of arrows cutting through the air surrounded you, and Marcus shifted you both beneath a copse of trees, protecting you from the deadly projectiles. “My Angel, you must,” Marus insisted, using his favorite term of endearment for you. His large yet infinitely gentle hands grasped your face, his eyes dark pools of worry. “I must fight, and I need to know that you are safe. Please.”

Your souls reached for each other; your bodies unable to support you anymore. The Earth rose to meet you both as you crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs. You clutched him to you with superhuman strength, unable to let go. “No! Please! I love you, Marcus. I can’t lose you. We haven’t had enough time!”

No amount of time would have been enough, if you were being honest.

His large hands gently grasped your face again, thumbs swiping away the tears flowing down your cheeks. “My love for your is eternal, no matter how little time we’ve had together. I live and die for you, Angel.”

“Then live! Live for me, Marcus,” you begged, tears falling harder when he kissed you with desperation. You would have crawled beneath his skin and burrowed into his chest cavity if possible, so strong the urge to never let him go.

The sounds of battle grew ever closer, and you knew the time to let go had come, as much as the entirety of your being, your soul fought against the idea. You shared one last kiss, pouring every ounce of love for each other into it, before separating.

“Go, run!” Marcus ordered, tears visibly glistening in the fire reflected in his dark eyes as he watched you flee to safety.

You glanced once over your shoulder, sneaking one more glimpse of him as you fled. That was the last time you saw Marcus Moreno in your lifetime.

Some days, Marcus Moreno wondered how in the world he managed to keep both himself and an eight-year-old Missy alive. With his wife, Melanie, gone for two years now, he thought – no, hoped – things would get easier. Times like this, he doubted that would ever happen.

Missy, in all her endless adorableness, tried to do something nice for him by making breakfast. Unfortunately, the kitchen did not fair well in this endeavor. Pancake mix splattered everywhere from the counters to the ceiling – how in the world did she manage that, he wondered – and the remaining mix that survived was burnt into little hockey pucks. The smoke alarms that woke him initially, alerting him to the disaster, still screeched despite the open windows and his frantic waving of a dish towel beneath them.

Freshly showered and already soaked through with a stress-induced sweat, Marcus teetered on the edge of his breaking point. He had a busy workday ahead of him, still needed to get Missy ready and drop her off at school and come up with a way to tell Granada that he couldn’t do fieldwork anymore due to Missy’s begging.

His little girl was terrified of losing another parent – the only one she had left – and Marcus could not blame her for that.

Just when he thought he would succumb to a panic attack, his mother walked through the front door.

“¡Ay dios mio! What in the world is going on in here?” Anita Moreno exclaimed, immediately assuming control of the situation. With expert efficiency, she dispatched the ruined pancakes, cleared up the pancake mix, and got the damn smoke alarms to finally shut the hell up.

On the verge of a breakdown, Marcus fell heavily into a seat at the kitchen table. Shoulders slumped and feeling like a failure, he bounced his forehead against the wooden table top a few times.

“Mijo, go get cleaned up and changed. I’ll take care of Missy.”

His mom was a goddamn life saver.

With a sigh, Marcus heaved himself off the chair, pressing a kiss to first his mom’s head, then Missy’s. “Thank you, Mom. I… I don’t know where I’d be without your help.”

Anita just smiled sadly at him in return, watching as he told his own child how much he loved her before heading up the stairs with glistening eyes.

“He is still so sad,” Missy said sagely, wise beyond her eight years of life.

“He is,” Anita replied simply. “It’s a lot for him to have to do all of this on his own and with the added pressure at work, he feels overwhelmed. But he loves you so much, he’d do anything for you.”

“I know,” Missy admitted. “I miss my mom every day, and I know Dad does, too. I just wish…”

Anita waited for the little girl to finish the thought, but when it was clear Missy wasn’t going to on her own, the older woman helped her along. “You just wish what?”

“I just wish he had someone, you know, to care about him and love him like Mom did.” After another moment, Missy added, “Is that bad?”

Anita’s eyes softened, and she pulled the girl in for a tight hug. “No, not at all. We all want that for him. Love… well, love is rarely a bad thing, and we all deserve to find it, to have it, to feel it.”

The pair grew quiet until Anita ushered Missy into her room to finish getting ready for school. An idea was percolating in Anita’s mind, something that would help her son cope with being a single father while also leading the Heroics, and hopefully, give him something else to focus on. She had just the woman in mind for this little idea of hers, too.

Down on your luck after a sudden layoff, you joined a book club for something to take your mind off life’s struggles. The group was a nice mix of women ranging in age from 30 to 65 and you found yourself enjoying every moment spent with them.

Over the past month, you grew particularly close with Anita Moreno, the unofficial leader of the group. The connection was instant – during your first meeting, Anita took one look at your downtrodden expression and made it her mission to befriend you.

The pair of you quickly set a pattern of meeting for coffee on the weekends, where you sat listening to the older woman speak of her son and granddaughter, her former job at the Heroics, and any number of other fascinating topics. It didn’t take long to feel like you already knew the people in her life just by how much she spoke about them.

So, it was little to no surprise when Anita had an immediate solution to the problem when you casually mentioned the lack of luck in finding a decent job and the pending expiration of your lease on the apartment you could no longer afford.

“Marcus needs help,” Anita stated plainly.

“What kind of help?” You doubted there was a single thing in the world that you could help the ever-capable leader of the freaking Heroics with.

Anita smiled with the confidence of a woman who knew she was exactly right. “The kind that would make his life easier. Helping out with Missy, taking care of the house, just generally being there to support him. You could even stay at the house with them – it would solve your housing situation.”

That sounded like… a lot, moving in with two people you’ve not even met yet. “Are you sure they’d want me to live there? I mean, does he even know you’re suggesting this?”

Anita was exactly the kind of woman to hatch a brilliant plan without informing anyone until all the wheels were in motion.

She waved you off. “I’m sure they’d love to have you there. One look at you and Marcus will be kneeling at your feet in gratitude.”

You shook your head with a laugh. You doubted that. Anita enticed you some more with the weekly pay she offered. Between that and having a place to live other than your car, how could you possibly turn the offer down?

“Ok, fine. You win, I’ll take the job.” You held up a finger at Anita’s ecstatic expression. “But I need you to make sure your son is on board with all of this before I just show up at his house with all my worldly belongings.”

“I’ll take care of everything, don’t worry.”

You still felt a pit in your stomach. You loved Anita like family, but you didn’t necessarily trust her.

“You what?!” Marcus exclaimed into the phone. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sat back in his office chair. “Mom, you can’t just hire someone to live in my home without asking me first!”

He knew his mom meant well and only wanted to help, but what the hell was she thinking offering a perfect stranger the opportunity to live in his home and take care of Missy without even checking if it was something he wanted.

The weight of the world pressed down harder on his shoulders as Marcus listened to his mom’s expertly crafted argument and before he knew it, he agreed to the plan. He would meet this mystery woman, who was apparently very close friends with his mom, tonight.

Marcus really had no control over his own life, it seemed.

The workday could not end soon enough – being diplomatic with a group of superpowered people who acted like overgrown children more often than not was exhausting. Marcus dashed away in the middle of Miracle Guy’s long-winded complaint about… shit, Marcus didn’t even remember what it was, nor did he care. He needed a break, to get home and decompress for a moment before his new houseguest arrived.

Too exhausted to do much more than a brief tidy up of the house and a quick shower for himself, Marcus ordered pizza and waited for his mother to arrive with you. He still didn’t know how to feel about this plan of his mother’s, but he couldn’t deny that he needed help.

God, he hoped you were nice and trustworthy. If you were a friend of his mom’s, then you were likely older, maybe had children and grandchildren of your own. Hopefully you wouldn’t try to mother him, though. He got enough of that from his own mom, thank you very much.

All too soon, the bell rang signaling the arrival of the pizza. Almost immediately after he closed the door, his mother knocked twice and opened the door. Marcus placed the pizza box on the counter and turned around, locking eyes with you.

Time stopped.

Ever have that feeling of déjà vu, but like with a person? Like you met them before, but not in this life?

That’s what it felt like to Marcus as his heart thudded in his chest. Wide, dark chocolate eyes drank every detail of you in from behind black plastic framed glasses. That feeling growing larger as he took in the shape of your face, the color of your eyes, the hesitant curve of your lips as you stared back at him in equally wide-eyed wonder.

Did you feel it, too?

Marcus got the sense that you did, judging by the look in your eyes which no doubt matched the one in his own.

Seconds became minutes as you stared at each other, neither noticing Anita and Missy glancing between the pair of you with delightful curiosity.

“It’s getting awkward now, right?” Missy whispered, her little brows furrowed as she continued watching her dad and you stare at each other.

“Indeed, it is,” Anita replied quietly. With a quick clap of her hands, she snapped the two of you back to reality. Despite the manners she instilled in Marcus, he clearly wasn’t going to introduce himself with the trance he was in, so Anita took the liberty.

“Mijo, this is the friend I told you about.” Urging you both closer, Anita spoke your name. “This is my son, Marcus.”

“Hi, Marcus,” you said, your voice like music to his ears. Reaching out a hand to shake his, you added, “Have we met before?”

“It sure feels like it, doesn’t it?” Marcus took your hand in his larger one, grip strong yet gentle, and… you both gasped as a sudden jolt of electricity passed between you the moment your skin touched.

Suddenly, flashes of a previous life played through his mind. A starry night filled with fire and panic, arrows whipping through the smoky air as villagers fled their burning homes. And you. You were there with him, tears in your fearful eyes as you declared your love and begged him not to leave you moments before saying goodbye for the last time. Like a movie playing in reverse, he flashed back from that point, catching more glimpses of that prior life, of your time together, of the love you shared in your too short lives.

“My Angel,” Marcus cooed at you as he came back to reality. His hand tightened around yours as his other hand rose up to graze against the soft skin of your face.

“Marcus,” you breathed, eyes glistening. “We really have met before.”

“You saw that, too?” Marcus questioned, heart beating frantically against his ribcage. “I’ve never experienced something like that. How is that possible?”

“Me neither,” you admitted. “I have no idea.”

The two of you stood frozen, hands still clasped and eyes locked until Missy couldn’t take it anymore.

“What’s going on? Why are you being so weird, Dad?” she questioned, confused at the odd behavior. She’d never seen that look on her dad’s face, mesmerized like he was in awe and love, yet a little scared and unnerved all at the same time.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Anita murmured, watching you and her son share an entirely unique experience. “I’ve heard of this happening but never saw it firsthand.”

“What? What is happening? What are you talking about?” Missy was beginning to panic, tears brimming in her eyes at her frustration and fear.

Marcus, still frozen and feeling like an otherworldly force held in him place, held your hand in his, and glanced at his mom. A slight tilt of his head toward Missy was all it took for Anita to get the message, and she scooped the confused young girl to her side.

“Why don’t we all sit down and have some pizza. I’ll share what I know about what’s going on while we eat,” Anita said, leading the way into the kitchen. Once everyone was seated with a slice of pizza in front of them, Anita began her explanation. “Have you ever heard of reincarnation?”

It took a week after Anita explained the phenomenon for everyone to accept and adapt to the concept of you and Marcus being reincarnated lovers from a time long ago. It was strange, and you danced around each other awkwardly in that first week. Still, the plan remained the same – you would move in and assist with caring for Missy and anything else that Marcus needed help with. But, given the circumstances, it felt wrong to accept money for it.

You moved into the guest room down the hall from Marcus’ bedroom, neither of you ready to just jump right into a relationship let alone share a bedroom based on history and a cosmic pull towards each other. Despite your souls longing to connect, the mutual decision was made to take things slow and allow the instant connection to percolate and strengthen naturally.

Missy took to you at once and you wondered if your soul connected to the part of Marcus her own soul carried. You bonded over a love of sweets and silly teen shows and puzzles and immense joy in teasing Marcus. The pair of you spent many an afternoon working on one puzzle or another in front of the television after homework was finished, waiting for Marcus to get home from work.

You and Marcus dipped your toes into exploring the connection between you in small ways starting with morning conversations over coffee and expanding into a first, then second date.  

Before you knew it, a month passed, and the third date night arrived. The first two were lovely dinners out together, the two of you sharing anything and everything about each other over pasta and wine. The third date, however, was a quiet night at home sans Missy, who was spending the night at Anita’s house.

Even though you were staying home, you put some effort into your appearance, styling your hair and putting on a light layer of makeup. You stuck with comfortable yet fitted clothing though. It was the third date, after all, and you imagined whatever you wore would end up on the floor at some point.

Marcus waited at the bottom of the stairs as you made your way to the ground floor, a goofy grin on his handsome face. He opted for comfortable as well, you noticed, and looked sexy as hell in black joggers and a fitted tee shirt. The slim fit of the pants offered a dazzling view of his bulge, hinting at the treasure hidden beneath. Your mouth watered.

“You look beautiful, Angel.” Marcus entwined your fingers in his, pulling your hand up to his lips and placed a soft kiss on your smooth skin. “I ordered in from that sushi place in town. That alright?”

“That’s perfect, Marcus.” You leant over and kissed his cheek just above the patchy scruff you loved. “Let’s eat in the living room and watch a movie.”

The pull of your connection had become nearly overwhelming in the last few days, and you longed to cuddle up next to him on the plush sofa.

“Were you reading my mind?” Marcus grinned, grabbing a bottle of wine, two glasses, and the bag of takeout before following you into the living room.

The blinds were drawn, and a few candles were lit in place of the usual lamps, giving the room a romantic feel perfect for your third date. Marcus really thought this through. With a quick click of the remote, the opening credits to a classic movie played on the TV but you didn’t pay attention.

“Do you think we met in other lives besides that first one?” you asked before slipping a piece of spicy tuna into your mouth.

“I’d like to think so.” His soulful eyes gazed at you with burgeoning love. “This connection feels too strong to be contained in just one or two lifetimes. I imagine we’ve been connected throughout history, and that vision we both saw only showed us the beginning.”

“Yeah, I’d like to think that, too.” You both sipped at the wine, minds whirling.

Moments later, the remnants of dinner were left forgotten as Marcus pulled you in for a wine-soaked kiss. His lips danced across yours, tongue teasing along the seam before licking into your mouth. The kiss was sensual and full of promise and made your heart race.

He eased you back until your body splayed on the couch, lips caressing every inch of bare skin from your neck to your ankles. “I can’t stop thinking about you, dreaming about you, about a life together. This feeling… this connection is so strong it’s almost overwhelming.”

You keened, hips lifting slightly as Marcus slipped his fingers under the waistband of your pants, sliding them, along with your panties, down your hips and legs in one fluid motion. He tossed the clothing aside and you giggled internally, having known that whatever you wore would end up on the floor at some point.

Large hands roamed the expanse of skin revealed before easing your legs open, exposing you fully to his hungry eyes.

“Can I taste you?”

You never heard a man’s voice pitched with such neediness, but it was no match for your own.

“Please, Marcus,” you whined, fingers already curling into his thick hair and tugging urgently. He left his glasses on as his head dipped between your legs and licked at your folds. You never saw anything so deliciously hot. You loved his glasses.

His tongue swirled around your clit, and he dipped first one, then two fingers inside you to tease at that delicious spot deep inside. Marcus toyed with you until you moaned and squirmed beneath his ministrations.

“I’ve never tasted anything so delicious, my Angel. I could feast on you for the rest of my days.”

You came, body quivering with the pleasure flooding your senses and Marcus slurped at the fruits of his labor. He sat up, removing both his clothes and glasses, and you soaked in the glorious sight of his naked body as your own trembled in anticipation.

You watched with lust filled eyes as he reached into the pocket of the joggers, pulling out a condom before dropping the material to the floor. You appreciated the gesture, but you wanted nothing more than to feel just him, all of him.

Reaching out a hand and placing it over the one holding the condom, you shook your head. “I want to feel you, Marcus. Just you. It’s okay, I’m clean and safe.”

His puppy eyes widened. “Ar – are you sure?”

You nodded. “Completely. It’s been a long time for me, and I imagine the same for you. It’s okay.”

Marcus tossed the condom aside and pounced, leaving you squealing in surprise as his mouth met yours. His hands roamed, stripping you of the last bit of remaining clothing and plucking at your hardened nipples, as your hands scratched up and down his back.

The hardness of him, full and heavy, pressed against you, further igniting the ache in your core. Your hands slipped downward, grabbing handfuls of his ass as your hips wriggled until his cock pressed at your entrance.

The moment he slipped inside you, the world around you fell away and that electric pulse struck again. You made love like nothing you ever experienced before, the love and passion of a hundred lifetimes together melding into this one and taking the intimacy and pleasure to new heights.

“Angel, fuck, you feel so good.” Marcus worked his hips against you, thrusts perfectly paced to draw out the swell of your orgasm.

“Don’t stop, please,” you begged, fingers clawing at his back.

“Do you feel that?” Marcus snapped his hips, hitting that sweet spot and making you keen. “How is this possible? I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

You knew exactly what he meant. You never felt so close to another person before, like the connection surpassed physics and reality and even the god damned space-time continuum. The pleasure was ethereal, growing and growing until the damn burst. Eyes rolling back in your head, your orgasm exploded through you, your walls fluttering around his cock as he worked you through it. Flashes of white shined beneath your eyelids, leaving you breathless and dumbstruck. The only sound you could manage was his name drawn out in the sweetest melody. Marcus, Marcus, Marcus.

“Fuck, Angel,” Marcus moaned into your neck, his movements growing sloppy until his hips snapped one last time. He came harder than he ever had before, filling you with rope after rope of cum and, probably, a little bit of his soul.

He collapsed atop you with exhaustion as the pleasure ebbed. After a moment, Marcus mumbled an apology and shifted to move off you, but you held fast to him. “No, stay. I like being with you like this.”

Huffing a chuckle into your skin, he settled back into place, his softening cock still inside you. “You felt that, right? I can’t find the words to describe it, but it was different from any sex I’ve ever had, even with my wife.” He winced as the final words left his mouth, but you didn’t mind the reference to his deceased wife while he was still inside you – everyone had a past.

Nodding against his shoulder, you hummed. “I felt it. It’s almost like an out of body experience. I think that is the universe’s way of letting us know we are truly meant for each other.”

“I wonder if it will be like that every time?”

“Only one way to find out,” you replied with a giggle.

Marcus propped his chin on your chest, meeting your gaze with half-lidded, vulnerable eyes. “Is it crazy to say I’m falling in love with you?”

“Nah, I’d say that’s par for the course,” you teased in return. Craning your neck, you kissed away the crease between his eyebrows. “I’m falling in love with you, too, Marcus.”

Three months later, Marcus proposed. Six months after that, you exchanged vows in front of a small group of friends and family, with Missy happily standing next to you. And for the rest of your lives – this one and all the rest to come – you shared a soul that would reunite every incarnation of you both. And yes, the sex was that fucking good every damn time.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Teen isekai reader who's very causal of mentioning horrific things that has happened in their world.

" oh yeah thousands if not more people died due to a sickness and all you could do was shut the door and hope no one you knew got it. Can you pass me that pen? Thanks."

Lol Xavier is shaking because what are they even talking about their not going back if he can help it-. Magento is working with Xavier to keep them here and Gambit is enjoying memes and is concerned.

Yep. Reader casually mentions the 2020 Plague, and everyone does a collective group shudder (we're lucky if Xavier doesn't stare off intonthe void for a bit or have an eye twitch). Xavier wants to erase their world from being an option in the multiverse now. Magneto wonders how Reader is still alive, and decides to destroy any weapons of mass destruction (and hidden labs and government facilities) so they can't invent the 2020 Plague, or any other diseases of mass death and chaos. Amd Gambit is keeping Reader cooped up in his room, wrapped in bubble wrap, and is asking them to explain memes, and how he can make one...

Those three decide, "Scr*w it, we're erasing a universe frome existence," then go to ask Reader if there's any last visits they need to make, so they can finally self-desteuct their Death World...

(Those three like to have tea (or sweet tea) with Reader, play chess, checkers, or card games, and gift them fluffy sweaters and fuzzy socks amd a stuffed gator plush)

[friendship-ditch]

Whumptober Day 4 - Hallucinations

Galadriel x Fem!Reader ✼

Summary: Galadriel suffers horrific hallucinations of her past.

Warnings/Notes: None really, some corpe/blood descriptions and difficulty breathing.

Word Count: 1824

  The Lady of Lorien would never willingly admit it, but thousands of years were not nearly enough time to rid her of the ghosts of her past. The pain lessened from her mind but never truly faded, and on the worst days it took shape in front of her eyes once more.

  Soft shadows in the corners of her eyes, a chill in the room that nobody else felt, a brush against her shoulder, a whisper in the wind… she’d been dealing with these unusual symptoms for days now and they would not leave, no matter what she did. In both the real and dream world, the plague of these shadows grew stronger.

  The first time Galadriel’s eyes fell upon the being staring back at her beneath the shaded trees, she suddenly understood what it felt like to die. Her heart skipped so many beats that had her lungs not jolted her out of the trance with a gasp, she was certain that would have been her end, and she would have been the first elf to die of a “heart attack.”

  As badly as she wanted to, she knew she could not lock herself away in her chambers for the elves of Lothlorien needed her, and they would worry if their lady was to vanish. So she pushed past these… these visions, she called them, for as time went on she began to struggle to differentiate them from reality.

  Galadriel’s efforts to disguise her troubles wore down as the images grew. No longer were they subtle glimpses of eyes within the dark, or a second flash of an unbreathing shape, but they were images of past realities. Full bodies of those she once knew, mutilated, just as they had once been.

  Sometimes the sights were more detailed, hints of backgrounds fading into the view of her ancient eyes, and sometimes they lingered for so long Galadriel was no longer sure of where she truly was.

  The other elves of Lothlorien at first turned a blind eye, but as her symptoms worsened, so did their worry.

  It was not until one evening when Lady Galadriel was deep in a meeting with close advisors and other elves holding important titles, that she finally broke.

  You were present in the room where it happened. As Galadriel's assistant, you were one of the few who’d seen the depth of her struggles. She pushed the question away when prompted, but you were more than aware of the hallucinations she was facing. You were often the one at her side to snap her back into reality… a wordless agreement between the two of you that you would act as her beacon when lost in the darkness, but this was unlike anything that had happened before.

  Galadriel paced from one side of the ethereal room to the next, the light of the setting sun filtering in between outdoor branches and reflecting off her fair skin in blues and pinks. She was half listening to the proposals from the other elves, half focusing on whether or not those words on the wind were heard by the others.

  With a swift glance in your direction, she determined these howls were spoken to her only. 

  You met her gaze seconds to late, an inquisitive look in your eyes missed by hers. From her hands hidden beneath the long fabric of her sleeves, you could see her fingers nervously fidgeting, a telltale sign of the horrors to come.

  From behind the elven queen, there was a soft thump. Her head whirled in the direction, expecting perhaps a bird or creature, but only darkness lingered. This was not the darkness of shadows, but the absence of light as a whole. And it drew her in, speaking her name in words so ancient they were forgotten, but to her it was like her mother tongue.

  The darkness beckoned her closer. Galadriel let it.

  Her pale, trembling fingers reached out for the entity. She was so close to brushing her hand against the feathery tendrils, but a hand on her arm drew her back.

  You grabbed her wrist, at her side now, in the corner of the room. The other elves were trying their best to ignore Galadriel’s strange departure from focus, but their eyes continued to flit in your direction when they felt the seconds between glances had been too long.

  “My lady…” You whispered, tightening your grip as you watched her head turn back towards the corner, where nothing now lay. When she faced you once more, you offered her a soft, nervous smile. “Would you like a break? This meeting can be shifted to tomorrow, if you so desire.” You lowered your voice, praying that she would agree. 

  Galadriel hesitated at the offer. With one last double take to make sure the darkness was vanquished from the corner, she straightened her back and shook her head. “That will not be necessary, y/n.. But I appreciate the offer.” She made an attempt to mimic your smile but her lips were stone. Her lungs inhaled deeply and she turned back to the others. “Continue, please.”

  The remaining elves exchanged silent glances before continuing to speak.

  And Galadriel tried her best to pay attention, she really did… but soon she was no longer in the meeting hall, instead now she was in a world of swirling colors and moving shapes. The air stung her lungs with a sickening, metallic scent that felt like cotton stuffed in her mouth.

  It was hard to see with the spinning of her gaze, but Galadriel did not stutter in recognizing what surrounded her.

  The black shapes on the ground were not missing colors or entities of unknown origin, but bodies. Bodies of those she once knew, or had even just seen once. The rows went on and on beyond what she could see. It was as if the whole of Middle Earth had dropped dead at her feet.

  Oddly enough, Galadriel suffered no fear. An odd numbness had settled into her chest as she knelt beside one of the bodies. With a closer look she discovered that the bodies were not black after all, but soaked in sticky blood that glued itself to her fingers. When she tried to rub it off, it only stained her dress but would not leave.

  She decided that her hands were already messy so there was no point in trying to prevent any more. With a deep breath, she turned one of the bodies over.

  Its face was akin to yours.

  That discovery sent her flying backwards onto her heels, then to her feet as she tried to tear away. You weren’t dead. She’d just spoken to you…

  But everyone here was. The majority of these corpses had their deaths placed on her hands, perhaps yours would be as well. When the time came it would be her fault. The thought terrified her even further.

  Galadriel was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t even realize she was unable to breathe until she began to feel lightheaded. The thick blood in the air began to fill her lungs, clogging her airways and making her choke.

  Her hands flew to her throat as she coughed and gasped, feeling them grow even wetter with presumably her own blood now.

  The colors around her were fading into blackness as her head began to spin even more. Maybe it was better that she choked herself to death, then she would not be responsible for even more deaths than she already was. She’d lost everybody else already, she couldn’t bear the weight of further grief.

  Galadriel had come so close to accepting her death that when she was suddenly pulled back to reality, she was enraged. Who dared to save her from the destiny that she deserved? From her long desired happy ending? Her hands found their throat and closed around it, pinning them to the wall.

  “It’s me!”

  The voice snapped her out of her raging haze, her eyes slowly clearing as your face came into view. She stared at you in horror, her heart stopping once more in her chest.

  You winced, her non-nails digging into your neck. When you made some sort of a whimpering sound, she immediately let go and crumbled to the ground. She landed on the sides of her legs, shoulders and head slumping forward.

  You watched her hesitantly from out of the balcony. When she’d walked out almost in a trance, you called the meeting off and sent the other elves away so they would not see whatever trouble would follow.

  Now, Galadriel refused to look at you, still in a heap on the ground. Her shoulders were now shaking and she had a hand clamped over her mouth like she was stifling sobs.

  You slowly knelt down beside her and rested your hand on her back.

  “I’m… f-forgive me..I… I’m so sorry…” Galadriel choked out through broken sobs. She was shaking now, chin pressed near to her chest as her hair fell over her face in thick clumps. How could she have done this? Her nightmare almost came true, seconds after she promised it wouldn’t. Your blood really was almost lathered thick on her hands, your life ended by her. She would never forgive herself, not when you were one of the few she trusted.

  You shook your head, now settling down beside her on the ground as you gently rubbed her back.

  “It’s not your fault.” You whispered softly. “These hallucinations… I do not blame you for them.”

  “I nearly… took your life.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  Sniffling, Galadriel slowly raised her head, teary eyes meeting yours. There was no trace of malice in your face, just worry. She felt lost. Lost, hurt, confused, and terrified. Utterly terrified.

  You hesitated and then slowly slipped an arm around her. As much as she wanted to, Galadriel could not will herself to pull away.

  She sank limply into your arms and you cradled her close, sitting back up on your knees so you could tuck her head into the crook of your neck. You held her tightly until her sobs died down, then spoke in a soft tone.

  “We’re going to fix this. I promise.” You whispered.

  Galadriel shuttered softly. To her, she was hopeless. These visions would continue to plague her until her end… but you sounded so sincere in your tone, she could not help but believe you.

  The Lady of Lorien’s shaking slowed as it was replaced by exhaustion. Her eyes fluttered closed and a soft groan left her mouth. Her strength had been weakened within seconds and now she was as flimsy as a rag. 

  You sat with her until the last of her tears dried on her face, then slowly helped her up to her feet. You took her home and put her to bed, then left for the library to begin your research.

[kendsleyauthor]

I really like your new ocs- 5 for Godlike?

RELUCTANT GIANT

Godlike Universe (Brielle, Cameron, Nikolas)

~1200 words

G/t dialogue prompt list

Thank you for the prompt!! This is a continuation of DEITY OF IDIOTS 🍂

Brielle struggles to calm down a newly-giant Cameron. Their predicament escalates when Nikolas crosses their path.

@marydublinauthor 🌸

Brielle tried to give Cameron some grace and not compare his handling skills to those of Nikolas. After all, Nikolas had hundreds—if not thousands—of years to be accustomed to his towering height. Cameron had less than ten minutes of experience being a giant, and the fact that he hadn’t dropped her was success enough.

How can this not be a dream? she wondered.

Whenever she peeked up, she fully expected to find that she was actually in Nikolas’ hands, and that she had dozed off on his palm with Cameron by her side. But alas, it was Cameron���s face that hung overhead each time she looked. Not that she particularly minded the view.

“Are you in pain at all?” she asked, noticing that the pinch in his brow hadn’t eased. “From the transformation?”

“Not at all.” And she believed him. The anxiety of the situation was more than enough to keep a frown in place.

“I’m sure it’ll be alright,” she said, though her own thudding heart hadn’t relaxed. 

“What if this is permanent? What’ll I do, Bri? I don’t…”

His steps in the direction of the Autumn Manor slowed to a stop, which was a relief seeing as his hurried pace made her stomach churn. He lifted her a bit higher, his impossibly large gaze rife with worry. His rapid pulse pounded against her legs, and she wanted nothing more than to draw him close and comfort him.

There was no time to coax him into bringing her closer.

Nikolas’ stunned voice came somewhere from behind them. “Who—”

Cameron turned abruptly to the side, making Brielle squeal in terror as she was tossed onto her side in his palm, half-falling. As she kicked her legs to heave herself back to safety, Nikolas’ eyes landed on her—presumably not getting a good look at Cameron, given his reaction. She spotted the precise moment that a fire entered Nikolas’ gaze.

“Bri!” Nikolas lunged toward them with horrific speed, and the world became dark and cramped before Brielle could see him close the distance.

A pained cry flew past her lips as the confines of Cameron’s grasp tightened—any further, and he would surely break something. Raised voices rumbled outside of her prison, but she couldn’t focus on the words as she struggled to move, struggled to breathe. She could so much as open her mouth or thrash a single limb to get Cameron’s attention.

Nikolas’ voice became clearer. “—hurting her!”

Relief flooded through her when Cameron’s fingers sprang open. She gasped for breath in his palm. The light seemed harsh compared to the darkness of his hands, but as her vision adjusted, she was greeted by two massive faces staring down at her in alarm. Camer looked beside himself.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he breathed. “I-I was startled, and I was trying to…” He lifted her higher, staring hard in search of injury. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not hurt,” she assured, though she doubted her breathless voice was convincing. She suspected she’d awaken with soreness tomorrow morning, but she certainly wasn’t going to inform him of that. She frowned at Nikolas, smoothing her skirt. “Well, it’s enlightening to see that your penchant for slightly overreacting hasn’t abandoned us.”

Nikolas looked thoroughly offended. “You were in distress in the hands of a person I had never seen before. I reacted appropriately, thank you very much.” His eyes slid up from her to regard Cameron, a little smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. “You ate the fruit. Are mortals ever not predictable.”

Cameron’s fingers twitched closer to Brielle in frustration. “You knew there were such things out there? And you didn’t think to warn us—”

“Cam!” Brielle pushed at his index fingertip. “You’re shaking again.”

Remorse swiftly replaced Cameron’s annoyance. “I’m sorry. I’ll try—”

“Here, I’ll take her.” Nikolas raised a hand and offered it beside Cameron’s.

She worried for a second that Cameron might flinch at the approach or try to hide her again, but clearly he was willing to say goodbye to the stress of holding her life in his hands. Nonetheless, the conflict on his face was plain to see—her knight, handing her off willingly. Her heart melted slightly at the realization of how much he had come to trust Nikolas, exasperated with him as he was at the moment.

Carefully, Brielle moved from one palm to the other. The difference was immediate—the steadiness, the surety. She tried not to make her relief too obvious, lest Cameron see it. Falling to a seat, she willed her heart to stop fluttering as she looked up between the two giant men. 

“The fruit?” she prompted.

“Ah, yes. You see, I didn’t think there were any more left in the forest. They take hundreds of years to grow, and I stopped cultivating them long ago. The fruit is produced from plant life that has absorbed my blood.”

Cameron pulled a face, as though this information added a new flavor to the fruit he’d readily eaten. “How delightful,” he deadpanned.

“I try not to bleed in the forest these days,” Nikolas said with a shrug. “But for the fruit to exist now, it must have occurred centuries ago.”

“And you say you used to cultivate them,” Brielle asked. “Whyever would you do that?”

“A different era,” he said with a dismissive wave of his free hand. “Mortals who gained favor with my siblings or myself would occasionally be gifted such a fruit. We eventually agreed it was far more trouble than it was worth.”

Brielle’s blood ran cold with the thought of what a person would want with the gift of being deity-sized. At least Cameron was a reluctant giant rather than an arrogant or vengeful one—even if he did decide that snatching her up was the wisest course of action upon waking up at this size.

“So, it must be temporary,” Cameron said a little desperately. “A temporary gift?”

“Of course.” Nikolas seemed to latch to Cameron’s tone, stepping closer with intrigue. Brielle found herself having to crane her neck more to keep either of them in view. Nikolas brushed a curious hand against Cameron’s cheek. “By morning, you’ll be back to your adorably petite self.”

Though he scowled, he didn’t push away Nikolas’ touch. “You realize I am taller than you?” They already knew that from all the time Nikolas spent at human height, but Brielle was certain they could all agree that this situation was… different.

Nikolas’ fingers trailed lower to take Cameron’s chin and turn his face this way and that at his leisure. “You can pout all you want,” Nikolas said, his voice dropping lower. “Deep down, part of you must be enjoying this.” With that, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Cameron’s lips, holding Brielle in perfect view.

The tension in Cameron’s face eased immediately as he kissed Nikolas back. Brielle found her perch wobbling dangerously as Cameron leaned in with more fervor. She clutched Nikolas’ thumb, but didn’t speak a word of protest.

When they stopped and pulled away, faces still a breath from each other, Brielle let out a pent-up shudder of a breath. Both giants turned to her—Nikolas enthralled and Cameron flushing. She stared, slack-jawed and almost lightheaded with giddiness. “Might you do that again?” she all but whispered.

[witchcoochie]

I saw a tiktok today that said it was so much more devastating if Sirius’s mother did love him, even if it was horrible and flawed. So I used that idea to create this little excerpt. Let me know what you think!

The idea for this one is that Sirius is supposed to take the dark mark and is refusing, Walburga tries to get him to “see sense” as Voldemort will likely kill him for refusing to join the cause. This is also the night that Sirius would have escaped to the Potter’s house.

TW: mentions of torture/child abuse, implied domestic violence.

As usual, none of these characters belong to me:)

——————

“You insolent child!” Walburga screeched as soon as the door to Orions study closed behind her, “Do you understand what you have just done?!”

Sirius ripped his arm out of his mothers tight grasp, her nails leaving behind red indents in his skin.

“I understand that I refuse to be a soldier for a mad man! It’s horrific the way he talks! He’s going to get us all—“

The sharp sting of a backhand cut off his ranting.

“You are going to get us killed!” His mother heaved, her voiced tinged with a hint of desperation he had never heard before.

Sirius ignored it.

“Me?!” He bellowed, cradling his jaw, “You have put your faith in a fool!”

“I am trying to save you!” His mother screamed back, “You brash, idiotic— you are my son!”

Sirius stared at her with his eyes wide, his mouth parted in shock.

“You are my son.” Walburga repeated desperately, a hint of his mother— his Maman— peaked through her usual icy mask. “Can’t you see that this is the only way to ensure our kind survives?”

“He’s talking about genocide!” Sirius croaked back, “People I care about are being hunted like animals!”

“Those little blood traitors and mudbloods you surround yourself with are filling your head with nonsense, Sirius!” Walburga yelled again, practically begging Sirius to listen. “This is how we survive!”

“Thousands of innocent people will die!” Sirius yelled back, matching his mother’s intensity.

“I don’t care!” Walburga was back to screeching now. “We will be safe! You and Regulus will be safe! You will take the mark and you will have the Dark Lord’s protection!”

“Do you honestly believe that?” Sirius scoffed, “He’s marching purebloods off into battle like cows to slaughter!”

“Silence!” Walburga screamed, brandishing her wand. “I have had enough of your obstinance! The Dark Lord asked for you by name!” Her voice wobbled. “You will get the mark because you are the Black heir and it is your duty to protect your family!”

“He is who we need protecting from!” Sirius yelled again, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I will not be another one of his mindless followers!”

The small glimpse of his Mother behind the mask disappeared as Walburga’s face grew dark. “Fine, then, I will just have to convince you.”

Sirius swallowed and stepped backwards and his mother raised her wand. “Maman—“

“Crucio.” He barely heard her say the spell. It was hardly loud enough to even be a whisper, then he could hear nothing but his own screaming.

Why his mother had cast the spell like it hurt her too was a question that faded away into the red hot agony, then into blackness as the pain pulled Sirius into unconsciousness.

…

Sirius woke up to a painful hum throughout his entire body, and whimpered.

His face was streaked with tears and snot, pressed into the extravagant rug that laid across the floor of his Father’s study.

He laid with his eyes shut, trying to remember the events leading to him face down on the floor in this room.

“Are you ready to be reasonable now?”

His Mother’s voice cut through the fog in his head and all he could remember was the pain pain pain pain.

Maman,” he croaked, “please, Maman—“

“Say yes, Sirius.” She almost sounded like she was begging, a thought Sirius quickly pushed aside as a post-torture delusion.

Walburga Black did not beg.

She demanded and took and apparently she also tortured her children with unforgivable curses—that was a fun new one—but she would never stoop so low as to beg.

“I won’t.” Sirius’s voice cracked.

Silence.

“You must.” She whispered back. “Crucio.”

Pain engulfed Sirius like fire to kindling, until he felt like it was all he was. Blissfully, after what felt like an eternity, unconsciousness took him back again.

…

Walburga swallowed harshly, eyes darting around the face of her first born, her son, the brightest star in the sky, memorizing him. She knew after he fell into unconsciousness for a second time that he couldn’t take any more.

The Dark Lord would have his life for this, she knew. Her first son, her baby, her star.

Walburga smoothed down her skirt, an anxious tick she had developed, and breathed in deeply. Regulus wasn’t so stubborn. She could save him. It wasn’t both of them, but she could save one. One son.

Then, with elegance fitting a witch of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Walburga looked at her eldest son one last time before she straightened her back and turned out the door; leaving Sirius laying unconscious on the floor of Orion’s study.

…

Walburga dropped her head to her hands as soon as the door closed behind her, taking in a shaky breath.

Sirius’s pleading words rung in her head.

“Maman, please, Maman.”

Her eyes stung.

“What the hell is wrong with you, woman,” Orions barking voice snapped her out of her head.

Walburga whipped her head up to look at her husband, standing before her, his face twisted in disgust.

“Get yourself together before somebody sees you,” He hissed, before walking back towards the lounge, where the Dark Lord’s Death Eaters waited.

She nodded silently, quickly wiping under her eyes, ensuring no tears had escaped. Walburga smoothed down her skirt once more with shaking hands and raised up the occulmency walls in her head before following dutifully behind her husband.

Silent, but alive.

[reinerispretty]

your friend's boyfriend's best friend

(a reiner braun x reader modern au)

i've had this on ao3 for a bit but i wanted to make things more easily accessible for people on here! so first chapters of my fics will be posted to this account and if you'd like to continue reading, the link to the full fic on ao3 will be available at the bottom :)

SUMMARY:

Fresh out of a long-term relationship, you now need a place to live. Enter Reiner Braun, the timid, busy, and devastatingly attractive best friend of your friend's boyfriend. He's got a room to spare and doesn't mind cats, so you leap at the offer. Still healing and figuring yourself out, you're absolutely, positively, one-thousand percent certain nothing will happen between the two of you.

It all starts with you breaking up with Jean.

Well, ask any of your friends and they’ll say it was mutual, because that’s what you tell them. And maybe that’s what Jean thinks, too, and that’s fine for him and his healing process, but that isn’t the case. You were the one that broached the topic, that realized spending life with him was less like living with your soulmate and more like having a roommate (that you frequently had sex with). There never seemed to be anything to talk about anymore, and the two of you used to talk about everything . You both became complacent. 

Plus, you aren’t an idiot. You know that love changes overtime, that things don’t always have to be as exciting as they used to be. That’s why you spent a few months putting a lot of thought into it, just to make sure. What you found was that the two of you weren’t quite looking at each other like you used to. That you weren’t excited to come home and tell him about your day, but rather indifferent. That you didn’t wake up in the middle of the night, look over, and think about how much you loved him.

So you broke up with Jean. And truthfully, it went easier than you expected. Once you voiced your concerns, he’d realized he’d been feeling similarly. Which sort of made you sad, but you digress.

(There’s also the matter of him almost definitely being in love with your best friend. But that’s a topic to be broached at a later date.)

So Jean sends out emails to get your name taken off the lease and you’re frantically texting everyone you know, asking if they have a couch you can crash on (and a garage to put everything in). He’s offered to let you stay, because he’s kind and would never put you (or your cat Toast) out on the street, but you’d rather die than do that. It would only make things weirder. After all, you’re adamant to maintain a friendship with him. He was your friend before you started dating, and a rather good one at that, so you’ll do anything you can to keep your breakup resentment-free. And crashing at your ex’s place when you aren’t having crazy toxic make-up sex is incredibly embarrassing. To you, at least. 

Eren lets you crash at his and Armin’s place for a few nights, but their pull-out couch isn’t a permanent solution. Out of the roughly fifty-million texts you send, only one person responds saying they know of someone who’s renting a room. You don’t think Annie Leonhart has ever been considered an angel, but she’s your angel for telling you about her boyfriend’s best friend who is looking for a roommate. 

You meet up for coffee to talk about it. Your freshman year of college the two of you had been placed together randomly, and you’d gotten along well enough that neither of you felt the need to room with anyone else. She’s clean, quiet, and horrifically honest, so if she doesn’t think this place is the right fit for you, she’ll let you know. 

“I think you’ll get along,” She says as she sips her matcha. You stare at her with wide eyes. You didn’t actually expect those words to come out of her mouth. Annie’s standards are as high as a skyscraper. “Reiner’s low maintenance.” 

“You make him sound like a pet,” You say, and Annie hums, pinching off a piece of your blueberry muffin.

“Not unlike it. He sticks to a very strict routine. Eats all three meals at the same time every day. I’m sure if you left out a treat or toy for him every once in a while, he’d appreciate it.” 

You roll your eyes, tapping your fingers against your coffee cup. “How long has Bert known him?” 

Bertholdt is Annie’s boyfriend. He’s the tallest person you’ve ever seen. Upon meeting him, you’d told her to “climb him like a tree.” She’d listened.

You like Bertholdt for her. He makes her soft, in a good way. He looks at her like the stars are in her eyes. 

“Since we were kids.” 

“Do you know him?” 

“Barely.” 

“What’s he like?” 

“He’s nice. Little bit of a meathead sometimes. He goes to the gym a lot but he isn’t that annoying about it.” 

You smile at what Annie deems appropriate to note. “So he isn’t a creep?” 

She glares at you, but it’s friendly. You’d know, you’ve been on the receiving end of her not-so-friendly glares plenty of times. “I wouldn’t let you stay with a creep.” She takes another piece of your blueberry muffin as penance. “He used to live with Marcel, but then Marcel fucked off to go study plants in Australia, so his younger brother moved in to help Reiner with the rent.” Annie sighs. “Everyone knew that wouldn’t last long.” 

“Why?” 

“Porco and Reiner have never gotten along. I don’t know why they thought it was a good idea to live together.” You’re trying to keep up with all the names. You and Annie come from separate hometowns, not to mention she’s an inherently private person, so the only people you really know from her life are her dad and Bertholdt. “This is all to say that Reiner needs someone else to help cover the rent.” 

You sip your coffee, bracing yourself to ask the question that’s been on your mind ever since you found out about this Reiner Braun . “Is he up for living with a girl?”

Annie raises a lazy eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t he be?” 

“Well, I don’t know. Some people get weird about it. Like, they think it’s gonna stop them from hooking up with people or something.” The last thing you want is some crazy person banging down your door.

“I’ve already told him a little about you. He’s fine with it.” 

It feels like a thousand pounds have been lifted off your chest. Smiling brightly, you say, “Alright, deal!” 

Moving in with Reiner doesn’t go how moving in is supposed to go. You don’t visit the property first and make sure it’s all up to snuff before signing the lease. You haven’t even met Reiner to see if he’s a good match as a roommate. The most you’ve spoken to him are a few texts from when Annie gave you his number to discuss move-in related things. He’s a very straightforward texter, ending his sentences in periods that make you think he’s mad at you. 

“So you don’t even know who this guy is?” Eren asks as his fingers drum against the steering wheel to the beat of the song playing through the speakers. Although he’d snatched up the aux, he’d played one of your playlists, something with a lot of emo throwbacks. (He’s always playing your music because he’s too lazy to go hunting for songs of his own.) When you’d requested help moving out, he’d leapt at the offer and volunteered his brother’s truck so you wouldn’t have to rent one. Eren’s been a great friend to you during the breakup, but you think it’s largely because of how much he despises Jean. You think they would be great friends if Eren wasn’t such an asshole most of the time. 

“Never met him,” You confirm. “But he’s friends with Annie and Bertholdt, so I’m not worried. Plus I stalked him on the internet to make sure he wasn’t a psycho.” 

“What if he is a psycho and is just really good at hiding it?” 

“Hmm,” You pretend to consider. “I guess I’ll just die.” The look Eren gives you is full of annoyance. You know he’s worried about you. He’s so protective over all his friends. “Would it make you feel better if you met him? He won’t be there but he said he’d be back sometime this evening.”

“Will you buy dinner?” 

“If you’re asking me to thank you for your services in food rather than actual money, then yes.” 

Eren thinks for a moment as he pulls down the street– your new street. “Yeah, I’ll stay. Make sure his gym bag isn’t full of chopped up body parts.” And you roll your eyes.

Your GPS alerts your arrival as Eren slows to a stop in front of the house. It’s a split level with pale blue siding and grey shutters. It sticks out like a sore thumb among the mini-mansions in the neighborhood.

Eren backs into the driveway to make it easier to unload everything. As he unties the bungee cords that keep all of your things contained, you head to the planter where Reiner said he’d leave the spare key. Your key, now. You find it just barely covered by dirt and unlock the door to your new home.

It’s always strange walking into someone’s home and finding out what it smells like. Reiner’s house doesn’t smell bad, just different from what you’re used to. It smells older, and like that one cinnamon apple Walmart candle boys always buy to cover any unappealing scents.

You give everything a once-over as you try to locate your room. You think it could use a dusting, but otherwise it looks relatively clean. By your standards, anyway. 

Your room is in the upstairs half of the house, to the right and down the hall. There’s a bathroom on your way, as well as a few other doors you’ll have to explore later. You push open your bedroom door and are relieved to find it’s spacious and in good shape. Reiner had sent you a few pictures of the place, but he hadn’t taken the right angles and you were too nervous to ask for them. 

Running back outside, you start helping Eren carry your things in. You start with the big stuff, like your desk and bookshelf. It’s awkward, maneuvering those things up the steps, but the two of you make it work.

Your cat, Toast, meows unhappily from inside his carrier as you move smaller boxes into your room. You don’t want to risk him running through the door as you unload your things, so he must remain contained for the time being. As you set down a box of your books, you give him a scratch between his ears through the carrier bars. “Just a little longer!” You promise.

By the time you’re done, the sun hangs low in the sky, and you still don’t have a bed. Eren leaves to pick up your bedframe and mattress from Ikea so you can get Toast’s things set up. You want to keep him in your room, just while he adjusts to a new home. He’ll be sad when he figures out Jean isn’t here, and you’d rather he not tear up the furniture of the nice man who lets the two of you stay here. 

You set up his litterbox, his water fountain and food dishes, and his cat trees in your room. Once that’s all done, you undo his carrier lock and let him roam free. Toast bumps into your hand immediately before carefully exploring every inch of your new room. 

You’re grateful Reiner’s been so accommodating, but you wonder if part of him feels like he has to be because you’re his best friend’s girlfriend’s friend. When you texted him asking whether or not it was alright to have Toast, he’d said, “ That’s fine. ” You don’t think that sounds like someone who’s thrilled to have animals in their home. 

The screen door slams shut and you assume it’s Eren. Hopping to your feet, you carefully slide out of your room and shut Toast in. You call out as you walk down the hall, “I was thinking of pizza for tonight, but I know you said you wanted to try that new Thai place–” You round the corner and find who you can only assume is Reiner coming up the stairs.

He’s tall, much taller than you or Eren, and for some reason you hadn’t anticipated that from the grainy picture of him Annie sent. You suppose you should’ve known, considering Bertholdt had been standing at his side, and he was still a few inches taller than Reiner. He’s also, unfortunately, much more attractive than you’d been expecting. (The picture was taken at a wedding reception, so both Bertholdt and Reiner were incredibly sweaty looking.) 

Annie’s gym bro assessment of him had been accurate. He’s broad and obviously muscular, if the way his button-up grips his biceps is any indication. He’s blond, with light eyes, and some stubble along his jawline. Reiner is handsome .

(Later, you’d hiss at Annie from the privacy of your bedroom, “You didn’t tell me he was hot!” )

Your face burns as you realize a lot of seconds have passed and you’ve just been standing there, silently ogling him. “Oh! Hi! I’m (Y/N).” You extend your hand and he drops his laptop bag at the top of the steps to shake it. 

“Nice to finally meet you in person. I’m Reiner.” 

Meeting new people is awkward enough without the added stress of them being nice to look at. You clear your throat. “Sorry, I thought you were my friend. He ran out to pick up my bed frame for me and I promised him I’d order us dinner.” 

“I’ve tried that new Thai place,” Reiner says. “It’s good.” 

You nod again. What are you, a bobblehead? “I’ll let him know it has at least one solid review. Would you, um, would you want me to order you anything? As a thank you for letting me stay here?” 

Reiner smiles. “No, it’s alright. I’m actually gonna head to the gym in a bit. Thanks, though.” 

You stop yourself from nodding again. Right, strict routine. “Okay, well, once I’m more settled in, I’ll definitely be baking you something to let you know how much I appreciate it.” 

“You really don’t have to. I mean, you’re helping me out, too.” You wave a hand. 

“Barely.” He’s saved you from the embarrassment of crashing with your ex for god knows long until you find a place of your own. Or worse, moving back in with your mother. You think you might owe him for the rest of your life.

The truck rumbles into the driveway and you’ve never been more grateful for Eren’s timing, because it’s either you keep standing here nodding like an idiot or retreat to your room. “That’s him!” You say, and Reiner moves out of your way so you can get down the stairs. 

“They brought out the wrong order like three fucking times,” Eren grumbles as he hops out of the truck. “I had to physically write your name down for them to find you.” 

You smile at him and say in a sing-song voice, “Thanks, Eren!” 

“Whatever,” Your friend says. “Let’s get this over with. I’m starving.” 

“Reiner said that new Thai place you’ve been wanting to try is good,” You tell him as he undoes the truck bed door. Eren’s eyebrows raise.” 

“He’s here?” You nod. 

“Got back a few minutes ago. I was so embarrassed, I thought it was you coming in. I offered to buy him dinner too, but he’s heading to the gym.” 

Eren clicks his tongue. “You’ve gotta stop offering handouts.” 

“You’re so dramatic. Buying food isn’t going to make me go bankrupt.” 

“You guys need any help?” Reiner’s voice is right behind you. You yelp, hand flying to your chest as your heart pounds against it. Eren snickers as your face heats up.

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Eren says, just as you’re winding up to tell him it isn’t necessary. “This one has noodles for arms.” 

“I do not , you just walk too fast!” Huffing, you turn to Reiner. “This is Eren. Eren, this is Reiner.” 

“Nice to meet you.” Reiner moves around the truck to help him pull out the boxes that hold your bed frame pieces and mattress. 

“You really don’t have to,” You say. “I don’t want to keep you from your plans.” Eren gives you a look that says, Let the big strong man do the work for you, idiot. 

Reiner shrugs. “It won’t take long,” He assures. 

“Why don’t you go inside and get Toast out of the way so we can bring this in?” Eren suggests. You narrow your eyes at him, feeling as though you’re being dismissed. 

“I can’t decide if this is anti-feminist or very feminist. But fine. Don’t break my shit, Jaeger.” 

You prop the door open and scoop Toast into your arms to keep him from tripping the guys. You try to keep yourself busy so you don’t look completely useless (and so you don’t stare at the way Reiner’s arms move when he brings in your bed frame and mattress. Instead you choose to find setting up your internet to be the most interesting thing in the world.)

“Thanks so much, Reiner,” You tell him as he leaves your room. He gives you a smile over his shoulder. 

“Not a problem. Make yourself at home.” With that, he leaves the house entirely, and you shut your door so you can set Toast down. When you turn, you find Eren glaring at you.

“What, I don’t get any thanks?” He asks, wiping sweat from his forehead.

The two of you decide to take a break to order food from the Thai restaurant. Once it’s delivered, you’re hesitant to sit down at the kitchen table and eat. Eren, however, is not as he yanks a chair back and tears into the take-out bag.

“It’s your house too,” He reminds you. Carefully, you sit. 

“I know, I just don’t know if he has any rules or specific ways he wants things done.” 

Eren looks at you like you’re stupid. “Rules about eating at a table?” 

“I know I’m being ridiculous,” You mumble. “But I just want to be as little of a nuisance as possible.” 

“Did Jean make you feel like that?” You’re surprised he asks this. He’s been very good about not not bringing up Jean all day, but you suppose he just wants to make sure your ex never made you feel less-than. You don’t doubt that if he had any actual reason, Eren wouldn’t think twice about beating the actual fuck out of Jean. 

“No, not at all,” And that’s the truth. “Living with Jean was easy. I just know it’s not always going to be like that with other people.” 

Eren grunts as he starts digging into his food. “If I had a room to spare, you know you’d be living with me right now.” 

You smile at him. “I know. Thanks.” 

Your day with Eren is far from over, because once you’re both done eating and you’ve rested for a proper amount of time, he helps you build your bed. You’d insisted you could do it on your own and he hadn’t believed you, which you’re grateful for, because the wooden pieces are excruciatingly heavy. The entire process puts a strain on your friendship. You even have to Facetime Armin to settle an argument about measurements, but by the end of it you’re both laughing as you try your best to get the fitted sheet on your mattress. 

Eren takes you back to Jean’s, where you’d left your car that morning. You start to feel oddly emotional. You aren’t sure if it’s because you’re leaving for good, or if it’s because you’re gearing up for the first night by yourself in a long time. 

“Call me if you need anything,” He tells you as he walks to your car door. 

“Yes, Mom,” You press the unlock button, but before you can get in Eren gives you one of his rare hugs. 

You’ve known him since you were itty-bitty, having first met when the two of you were in diapers at some Mommy and Me class. Your mothers became fast friends, which meant that as toddlers and kids, you were always together. You don’t think there’s a single childhood photo of yours that doesn’t have Eren somewhere in it. 

But then his mom died, and your parents divorced, and instead of working through all of that together, you grew apart. You were a reminder of every moment you’d shared with his mother, and thus you magnified her absence. And you shut down, because your father moved out and your mother started her long trail of shitty boyfriends and the one person you wanted to comfort you was dead. You don’t think there’s a word for acquaintances that know each other like the back of their palm, but all throughout high school the two of you passed in the hallways as if you didn’t have a decade of history. 

Fate decided it had enough of this at the start of your freshman year of college when it placed you in a room right across from Eren’s. You both felt like you were little fish in big ponds, and although your friendship started again for the sake of convenience, you stayed friends because you cared about each other. 

You hug him back and try hard not to cry. 

Reiner’s still out when you get home, so you turn on music and finish unpacking your necessities. There are still a lot of things you need to buy for yourself. You hadn’t realized how much of the furniture was Jean’s. You’re using stacked shoe boxes as a nightstand. 

The one thing you’re happy about in all of this is that for the first time in your life, you have your own bathroom. You clean it because it makes you feel better if you’ve wiped things down yourself, and then fill it with your toiletries. Once you’re done, you take a well-deserved shower and wash the sweat from your hair and body.

Drying off, you wrap a towel around yourself and head back to your room. You’re surprised to find Reiner in the hall as well, hanging his jacket in the coat closet. The two of you both stare at each other, wide-eyed and keenly aware that you’re a single piece of fabric away from being naked . Face hot, you turn on your heel and walk quickly into your bedroom. 

You’ll have to buy a robe.

liked the first chapter? keep reading here!

[achaoticalien]

A Court of Deceit and Decay

Chapter Four- Nesta Archeron

When Eris held out that hand, the first thought that lurched through Nesta’s mind was yes, a thousand, hundred times yes. Every new and old instinct, every torturous thought that pummelling through her head, every single thump of her heart, said to go with him. To run from out underneath this darkness. To leave this place behind and start all over again. A new Lady, with a new name and a new life. 

But she hesitated, she stepped back, staring at him with widened eyes. 

Before the sound of heavy footsteps and a cruel voice flitted from the hallway, Eris whipped his eyes over his shoulder as the words, “... we could lock her in a cage… poke at her till she explodes, what do you think Keir?”

Nesta’s heart thundered against her ribcage, like a wild rabbit caught in a trap. She looked at Eris, panic in her silver eyes. 

“Now or never, Lady Nesta.” Eris whispered, despite his cruel features, there was something soft in his eyes, something pleading. 

Pleading that she leave now with him. Before she’s subject to every whim of the Hewn City. 

For a brief moment in time, Nesta wondered if her small amount of time down here was terrible, how horrific the lives of the other females must be. 

“Don’t make me regret this, Vanserra.” She hissed, before shoving her hand into his. 

Eris smiled, not a cruel wicked grin, but a genuine smile. 

And the world went from cold, dark earth, to unimaginable heat. 

The transition from the Hewn City to Autumn was what Nesta could only describe as being slapped across the face by the Goddess of Autumn herself. A tingling sensation pricked underneath her skin, her magic heated her core at the all encompassing sensation of new washing through her body. Fae instincts picking up on the hints of rot and decay, with the light wind that brought the smell of ash and pine. It tickled her nose and made the hair on her arms stand up straight. 

Her knees went weak underneath her as the ground become firm once more. The sights of orange, gold and red swirled in her vision as she blacked in and out. She thought she might have hit the floor, but distantly felt her legs stills upwards, and something firm and warm held her up. Arms wrapped around lean muscle, Nesta managed to drag her weary eyes up to see Eris there. As strange as it might be, he seemed to be saying something. Mouth moving in an erratic pattern and eyes wide with what she assumed to be panic. 

“Dizzy.” She slurred, head feeling like a band was pulling tighter and tighter around her skull. Till the pressure threatened to make her mind explode. 

Her senses of reality reduced as everything turned pitch black. 

Waking up was an uncomfortable sensation as well, but at least she had more of her sense to recognise what things were. The cool, slippery fabric balled up in her clenched fists was some kind of silk sheet. The tacky feeling all over her skin was a sheen of sweat, the thing poking her eye was a stray hair. The aching pressure in her legs and arms was sore muscle. And the crust around her eyes and nose was from sobbing her brains out. 

There was one sensation she did not recognise and that was the sudden warm pressure in her hand, a light tingling spread from that spot up to her shoulder. Craning her tense neck, Nesta forced her eyes open. Assaulted by the light of a warm lamp, but at least a cool breeze from an open window whispered around her, it smelled of long-burned out fire and candy apples. Her stomach rumbled, the idea of sticky-sweet caramel on crisp apple pieces made her mouth water. When was the last time she had eaten something like that? 

“The fair,” She drawled. 

“Hm?” A voice answered her, it was a voice she recognised, but couldn't put a name to. All the same, she felt strangely at ease beside it. 

“Caramel apple slices,” She said with a slight moan to her voice, “Went with mama, they tasted like heaven.”

Tears swelled in her eyes, “It was the last time mama did anything kind for me.”

It was also the last time she ate caramel apples, sickness turned in her gut as she remembered why she hated the wretched sweets. Her mother had put a hand so delicately in her hair as she had led her to that damned fair. Before leaving the world just the next week. As if it were a goodbye. 

A damning sorry for everything, Nesta had nearly convinced herself off. Before she remembered that Rose Archeron had only cared to use her as a means to an end to get to a high position of power within the mortal realm. 

“I hate caramel apples.” She hissed under her breath. 

A slow intake of breath from the voice beside her, before a finger light as a feather brushed the hair from her eyes, relieving her of the stinging pain. Nesta ungracefully hauled her hand up and desperately rubbed at the spot, till the itching ceased. 

“Nesta…” The voice murmured, with a tone she didn’t recognise. 

All the same, it made her feel safe. For what felt like the first time in months.. Years. 

She blinked her eyes, chasing the haze away. The sight of flaming red hair caught her sight, a rumpled white shirt, jacket nowhere to be seen. Sweet amber eyes bore down into hers. Catching down, Nesta saw his mouth, opening slightly as if to say something. 

“Eris.” She whispered, his name a mere breath on her lips, that she didn’t think he heard. 

But he must have heard, for he turned his eyes away and leaned back. Nesta followed him with her eyes, watching as he sat back into a crushed velvet chair, the colour a deep amber, near brown with a tinge of red. She looked down to see his hand gently resting in her open palm. Her hand twitched, fingers curling around his. Eris’ eyes widened briefly, he quickly removed his fingers, Nesta didn’t have time to mourn the loss as the gravity of the situation slammed into her like forceful winds in an open field. 

She shot right up, eyes briefly going black from the movement, ignoring it as her heart thumped so quickly. She desperately looked around, but she could not recognise the room. 

All gold and red, it was a little rustic looking, but with wealth dripping out of every corner, from the gilded gold, to the dark polished furniture, and the large fireplace roaring, filling the room with a soft glow aside from the golden lamp that beheld a ball of Faelight. 

She clenched her fists and whipped around to Eris who stared at her with a little fear in his eyes. Nesta was about to yell asking where she was, when she stopped. A sense of intense heat had overwhelmed her, not painful, not scorching, but clearly there. It felt like a hand of fire that didn’t burn reaching into her insides and brushing its finger across strings of magic weaved within her. 

Nesta looked down, to see her hands covered in flames that burned silver. 

[kel-lance]

Team Bonding: JJK students x reader x sukuna Part 3

- TW: Dead dove dont read (DDDR) Minors do not interact (MDNI): SA, Physical Assault, DubCon, NonCon, Mindbreak, Public Humiliation, Multiple manipulation, RWORD, PTSD, a lot more.

- Premise: Characters are (18+) (Reader is 21) Jujutsu College au where things are the same but they found yuuji/He ate the finger at 18/+ the start of college.

- Yuuji “came back” after two months of “being dead” and you’re in charge of the training for today for the kyoto sister event.

- Sukuna switches with yuuji in this and chaos ensues :/

After was the worst fucking thing in the world. As much as you wished you could have blacked out the reality of it, or at least the hour after but you were wide awake, laying there. Yuuji was the one knocked out, Sukuna had switched back to gave you some time to clean yourself up. (Slapping you awake, reminding you to stay awake bc of your head injuries.)

His deal was that Yuuji doesn’t find out, that whenever he came around, they would show him your homework, and if he wasn’t satisfied with it he would show them what he wanted to see. After what they witnessed, they really couldn’t let that happen again, bc they knew it would be worse if he were to touch you rather than them. 

Whenever he did want to get a rise out of you, he’d start eyeing Maki and Nobara, where you roar back to life and have more fight in you. You knew first hand how awful he was, you weren’t going to let him hurt more people. 

Yuuji, if he ever finds out, would probably off himself, and we know it’s not his fault so we can’t let that happen either. “You won’t know when I’ll be back, so do your best.” He was fucking sick.

Everyone decided to stay with you, in trios. At night you were with the girls as that didn’t raise suspicion from the RT’s. Sometimes though, the other pairs would volunteer and watch you in your room while you slept during the day, if you ever needed it.

Nobara helps you more often, and tries to help you ground yourself by holding your hand. Her thing now was to lightly apply pressure to the joints of your hands to ground you, until you leaned into her for a hug or pulled away, signaling what was going on in your head.

Maki would always keep a look out. “That was fucking horrific to watch.” She could remember how the Zenin clan were so gross with trying to sell her and her sister off. The older men would look but they didn’t want responsibility for them, let alone chance that they couldn’t chance their own being born without cursed energy. It was more of an insult to be presented Maki, as Mai does have some. 

Her own personal feelings weren’t really what was fueling it, the threat of and forced witnessing of mistreatment without being able to do anything… She’ll play his game but never let him touch you again. After speaking with Nobara, you asked to smoke to knock yourself out. 

Medicine is the best rn, your body’s healed, but your mental, it was sure something you couldn’t heal. It was a lot in the moment and you’d just want to revert back to your old ways of coping and you knew they’d understand, but they wouldn’t let you.

So just a hit or two, as much as you could hold in, until your lungs burned, that it spread up to your throat and seared your nostrils. It was a really dry cough, and you were a mess, your eyes tearing and spit was caught in your sleeve, and you tried to wipe your running nose too. These hits were the ones where you didn’t look, somehow that helped you take in more air. Maybe it was better concentration, in this case you just wanted to be unconscious. 

After they put the piece away, and asked if you wanted help in the bath. You could feel the tension as your confident, abrasive and loud self was unblinking, staring out to nothing. You had just gotten back to your rooms as Gojo came back a little bit too late, where he found you were sitting with a thousand yard stare. 

The others were so quiet, and Yuuji knocked out on the floor, he could only come to the conclusion, “Did I miss out on a really crazy fight or something?” No one responded. “Wow,” He places a hand behind his head, looking at the dim crowd. “Okay… Well, class is dismissed for today. Can someone help me bring Yuuji to Shoko? Megumi? Thanks.”

Megumi broke out of his shell shock and looked down at his friend. That look told Gojo something, but the Honored One wasn’t interested in his students’ relationships (when they’re all seemingly fresh into the drama). He’ll wait or bug it out of his somewhat son. Megs got Yuuji on his back, acting like his friend was more hurt than let on. You knew Megs was in a tough spot, and he was acting his BEST, in front of Gojo no less. He couldn’t lie unless it was jokingly, and even that was rare.  

________________________________________________________

Maki helps you stand in the shower, she’s in her underwear to help you make it more comfortable. She knew to keep testing out the water before realizing you were getting lost in your dizzy spur as Nobara comes in with her phone. 

“Nobara.” Your friend held you up and pulls you into her. “What are you doing?”

“It sounds heartless,” She started. “But I thought if we took pictures now, it’d give (y/n) more time away from Sukuna.” Maki’s hold on you loosened a bit, going back to grab at the loofa and pumping body soap onto it. Nobara continued. “I was going over our options and honestly, who knows what he’ll do next. I don’t even-“

Maki sighs loudly, asking her to stop talking. There was a pause, letting Maki think further into this. “It’s up to (y/n).” 

“It’s really not.” You thought. This whole situation wouldn’t be happening if you could even let it. “Nothing after this is going to be mine. Everything was given away in front of everyone, your entire being bare, your most vulnerable just out in daylight. You couldn’t even be glad it was just in front of your friends, what if strangers saw, or your professors, and what if they couldn’t help you too?

Maki held you and had you lean your weight on her. Nobara grit her teeth, she wanted to ask you what you wanted but obviously this was the best solution. It wasn’t to save herself, it wasn’t to save just you either. Everyone’s lives were at risk because of this horny demon.

But really, blackmail? That’s what it’s come to. That’s really the only thing that could get your people to turn on you. You thought they knew you better, that you’d rather choose to die than let the humiliation continue. Maybe it was because you missed your chance to voice your opinion, of your own body, of the situation you staggered in not so long ago.  

The shock though, the over exertion of using your reversed curse technique really was a challenge, You usually hold off the healing until after, showing off once again. The pain would make you feel alive, and let them know they were landing their punches and hits. You eye at the shower handle, to make the water temperature hotter. 

Burning, you wanted to feel clean. You wanted to have your skin melt off like a layer of wax. The places on the outside where he’s touched, honestly chop them off. You would rather have a meat cleaver cut them clean off than have any more blood pulsate under your violated skin. And the pit in your stomach, it wasn’t even a pit anymore you were sick, he left sick in you and it was spreading. Your head hurt, your vulva and the actual cylinder that makes up your core, you wanted to cut it out, or shove a hot metal rod inside to cauterize the wound, or to clean the area with fire.

Or maybe even you’d eat the rod, have it melt through your neck as you have a few seconds of searing bliss. But instead you’ll have to be okay with the hot water of the shower. Nobara notices your eyes and tells Maki that you’re cold, and to get started so they could help you to bed faster. 

The water that hit your chest was at a steady pressure, the temp rising an your skin started to blotch and turn pinker. Your body was tingling and the hot water was almost getting you to feel your body again. it was almost comforting but it just wasn’t engulfing you like you needed. You needed a feeling to wash this all away. And sure the weed was helping but at the same time, it was still so soon. 

“(Y/n), I’m going to start now okay?” Maki said behind you. Her left arm was keeping you up and letting you lean onto her leg, her right hand is on your right side, making its way down your waist and she lightly places her hand on your butt. You don’t really mind this, until her fingers came close to your entrance. Your legs lightly moved closing together. “Hey,” You look up at Nobara, who was recording. “Please (y/n), let us help you.” 

You lower your gaze, looking away defeated, you slightly open your knees, letting Maki in but not wanting to. Her finger made itself known around your core, before she tapped you twice to let you know that she was going in. Her finger plunged into you slowly, just in and out. Your body shook with the sudden movement. “Sorry.” You both say. 

She digs in deep again but keeps her finger in, it was really weird honestly. This was your friend? And your other was also “helping”? But they seem so disgusted. You didn’t like this. You wanted them to praise you, you wanted them to think you were awesome and the best and super cool. Why was this so awful? Why was this so awkward and cruel? 

They switch, Nobara is taking her fingers out of you and you can feel it come out, while maki takes her now wet clothes off and positions the camera to help clean up your face. Nobara���s holding you up in the shower, digging her fingers as deeply as she could, but as gently too to not hurt you, or make you more uncomfortable than you already are. Maki comes back in, placing her hands on your hips, moving your wet hair from the nape of your neck. 

They know you don’t like small talk, and they had nothing to say. There was nothing to joke about, nothing to bring up or gossip about, no silly joke or new grand idea to tackle in the future. For once you all were stunned into the present, facing something that they can’t control the progress of. Nobara lifts her head up to look at you; If you did look back at her, then there was something worth saving, something she knew would still be a part of you is just waiting there, for this to all go away, and she was right. If you hadn’t looked, you were worse than dead’ according to your old beliefs. 

Nobara finishes feeling around inside, cleaning out her friend’s cum from your hole. The hot water was enough to wash most of it away, the slimy feeling was just something you almost couldn’t bring yourself to just scoop out.  Maki’s lightly circling the loofa around your back, avoiding the bruised spots until she can help it. Her touch was so nice you thought, but this was getting too much for you. 

She had her fingers spreading you open while the bubbles from your shoulders come down and create a soapy sight. 

The shorter girls eyes looked at you with despair, her older classman who would do anything by themselves is needing two of their closest friends to wash them after an assault. She thought she would see one of y’all die before a man could lay their hands on either of you. She pulls her hand away, wiping the slime onto her leg to get washed off. She just wanted to get you out of this haze, and didn’t know what else to do but lean forward, and gently start to kiss you.

You don’t know if it was from guilt of not being able to help, and this was her way of healing, maybe she liked you for a while and this is her chance or her feelings are overflowing after seeing such an event, but either way, Nobara Kugisaki, your underclassman of a year was semi naked and wet, kissing you in the shower. 

Maki on the other hand, was trying to keep you both up. She noticed Nobara trying to soothe you since they had to invade your space, and she let her hand go back down. Using two fingers to search for any remains of Yuuji/Sukuna in you, she wipes away the last bits she found and let it run. She was about to stop when Nobara’s hand shot out and grabbed Maki. Her eyes told her to go back to what she was doing before, saying how you were gasping while kissing Nobi. 

She wants you to actually feel good, and have your last orgasm be less traumatic, so they were gong to help you with that before bed. They weren’t going to let your rapist be the last person to touch you, much less be the last person you think about. They’re here for you, and they were going to help you cum.

Maki’s long fingers graced the line on your back before tracing the sides of your hips. Your lips were still locked with Nobara’s your hands finding energy enough to cup at her face gingerly. You could feel her silently speaking to Maki and you didn’t care what was going on now. The weed was hitting, the steam from the shower was creating an even dizzier environment and your anxieties were washed away with the cum that stained you. 

Her steady pumping brought a blush to your face, not that your body was already red from the scorching hot water. You were honestly glad women were helping you as it would probably end u into a second panic if you were to have “woken up” in a scene like this. Her fingers were more than enough, and having to kiss your mutual friend altogether, semi to fully naked, all cramped up in this shower stall? The realization had you cum around maki’s fingers and groaning into Nobara’s mouth, they had to hold you up as your orgasm knocked out your knees from under you.

Maki wiggles her fingers, pressing on your sweet spot, drawing your orgasm to a crescendo as she soothes you by kissing the back of your neck. Nobi’s lightly kissing at your chest and collarbone, keeping u balanced and letting you ride out the feeling as long as they could keep it. As you shook in their arms, you panted out as the feeling started to fade, now being able to stand on your own. It’s been a few hours since you’ve found your head again, and it pained you to see your girls were crying. 

You con’t know if it was the whole time, but their eyes were red and pleading for your forgiveness. “I’m sorry.” They sob. “I’m so sorry.” 

[quack-quack-snacks]

All In - Chapter 2: The Beach

| Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 |

The All In Masterlist

My Alice In Borderland Masterlist

My Navigation and Masterlist

My Chishiya Shuntaro Masterlist

Warnings: Non-important character deaths, descriptions of blood and gore, Niragi being a perv but a consensual and non-boundary crosser perv, let me know if there are any more. Word Count: 7,175

“All in.”

His grin grew to the point you thought his face would split in half. He started giggling, obviously crazed by the trauma of this world.

Or maybe he was crazy before it.

“ALL PLAYERS PARTICIPATING IN THIS ROUND HAVE GONE ALL IN.

IN THE CASE OF THIS HAPPENING, THERE WILL BE A BONUS FOR THE WINNER.”

Now this piqued your interest. 

“THE WINNER WILL BE GIVEN A BONUS OF $500 FOR THEIR BRAVERY.”

There were shouts of protest from each of the players.

“That’s not fair!”

“What the fuck?”

You drowned them all out, noticing that once again, Chishiya Shuntaro did not join them in their complaints. Instead, he was staring at you with a blank look, one you couldn’t quite decipher. It almost felt like he was… analyzing you.

“ALL HANDS WILL BE REVEALED NOW.”

The sight of his hand made a small giggle slip through your lips. The giggle slowly grew louder and louder until you were laughing loudly. Fujita stayed still as he ran his eyes over each of your hands, trying to figure out how he could’ve possibly lost. 

He’d gotten dealt the Two of Diamonds and the Two of Clubs. 

The hand in the center was the Ten of Diamonds, the Two of Spades, the King of Diamonds, the Jack of Diamonds, and the Two of Hearts.

He’d gotten a Four Of A Kind.

It was unfortunate for him that you just got something better. 

“The Queen of Diamonds and the Ace of Diamonds?” You heard Chishiya let out a low whistle. “That’s a Royal Flush.”

“No!” Fujita screamed, slamming his fists down onto the table in a fit of rage. He quickly reached down into his pocket, grabbed something, and pulled it out. Your eyes widened in surprise when you realized it was a gun. “If I’m going down, then you’re coming with me!” He screamed at you, placing his finger on the trigger. 

A shot.

A laser.

The sound of a head thumping onto the table, deceased. 

You laughed. 

“Well fuck!” You said quietly, laughing breathlessly at the rush of adrenaline that shot through you. You hardly flinched at him pulling the trigger but it was a shock nonetheless. 

“ATTEMPTING TO KILL YOUR OPPONENTS BEFORE THE END OF THE GAME WILL RESULT IN A GAME OVER.

A PLAYER HAS REACHED BANKRUPTCY. IT IS NOW GAME OVER FOR THEM.”

You all watched as the corpse of Hirose Fujita’s chest started to cave in on itself underneath the pressure of the metal pole surrounding him, his ribs breaking and sticking out through his skin while blood splattered across the tablet in front of him. 

The sight caused a panic.

Many screamed. One person stayed still in their seat, hyperventilating and silent tears falling down their cheeks. Two started having panic attacks, trying their hardest to escape the bonds of the chair but to no avail. 

The girl to your left turned to the side of her chair, throwing up at the purely atrocious scene. 

You winced in disgust at the sight of his perishment, but other than the scrunch of your nose, you didn’t show any other sign of being disturbed. Your stomach had grown strong over the weeks you’d spent in the borderland. It was a necessary adaptation you needed to make if you wanted to survive and get through all the horrific sights you’d seen. Looking to the side at the back of your chair, you eyed the hole in the material. The shot had somehow - with some crazy, mysterious luck granted to you by the goddess of luck herself, Tyche - only barely missed anywhere vital.

The voice went on to announce that you’d won and scored the bonus $500 along with the $430 that was in the pot. 

Your balance was now over a thousand. 

As the voice continued on speaking, introducing the 6th round and who was going first, you brought a hand up to your left cheek. When you brought it away, there was thick red blood coating your fingertips and falling down your face from the bullet. You didn’t worry too much. If it was anything too serious, you would have been bleeding a whole lot more, that’s for sure. You decided you would just wait until the end of the game to try and do anything to solve it, occasionally rubbing the blood away with the sleeve of your jacket, not wanting the dress you were wearing to be ruined just yet. You failed to see how Chishiya’s eyes narrowed in on the wound. 

The next round passed. You’d folded after the first person placed their bet, your cards not being too great.

It totally wasn’t also because the person who placed the bet was the eye-catching man named Chishiya.

That would be crazy. 

Unsurprisingly, he won the round. One player, Akagi Tennen, started crying, his balance dropping down to $30 as Chishiya came out victorious with his balance rising to over $200. 

Round after round, the players died off until there were only four left. 

Sada Yuka. 

Oishi Kaori.

Chishiya Shuntaro.

And you. 

Your score had gone down to $860 while Chishiya’s had raised to $830. 

Each girl was shaking in their seat. The metal bar was compressed tightly around them, enough so that it obviously was uncomfortable and maybe slightly painful, but not as painful as it would be when they lost the remaining $5 in their balances. 

Your heart hurt in your chest as you watched them reach for each other’s hands desperately. Yuka tried to be strong in front of her friend but it was obvious she was having a hard time as tears gathered along her waterline. Kaori’s tears streamed down her cheeks like waterfalls, unable to control her sobs. 

It painfully reminded you of the friendship you had with your best friend, especially when the two of you were children.

It was the first day of first grade, and you were nervously shuffling on your feet while standing in front of the school entrance. Your mother stood next to you, but the knowledge that she would leave when you entered the building had your five-year-old stomach turning. 

She kneeled down beside you so she was at your level before caressing your hair lovingly. “Are you ready, sweetie?” She asked you. You gripped the straps of your backpack nervously before hesitantly nodding. She softly smiled before bringing you into a much-needed hug. It wasn’t surprising that she could tell you were only saying that for her sake; you weren’t the best at hiding your feelings just yet. “I’m so proud of you. You’re going to do amazing, I just know it. I’ll pick you up as soon as school ends, okay?”

“Okay, mama,” you agreed and she let you go, giving you a light nudge toward the door. 

Ten minutes later, you were sitting in the second row of your class. The teacher stood in front of a whiteboard, wearing an ankle-length skirt made of different colored patches. On top, she wore a simple black turtleneck with some silver jewelry. 

She turned around, writing her name on the board. You couldn’t read it, not really having learned to read yet, and you were thankful when she repeated the name she wrote. 

“Hi everyone!” She started in a cheery tone and a big smile. Her ginger-dyed hair with brown roots just barely visible as they grew out framed her face gorgeously and you couldn’t help but marvel at her beauty. “Welcome to your first day in my class and congratulations on being in first grade! I will be your teacher for the rest of the year. My name is Ms. Hirayama,” she told you before cupping her hand around her mouth like she was telling you a secret. “But you all can just call me Rin!” She winked. “Today, we will be learning the alphabet. Does anyone know the first letter?”

A few hands rose but you lost focus when you saw the boy sitting next to you. He was sitting with a notebook in front of him, not focusing on the lesson as he drew a stick figure picture of three people and a dog in front of a wonky, crooked house. You watched him for a while longer before suddenly, your teacher stopped talking. 

“Kids, would you mind paying attention and saving your drawing for when we have a break?” She asked kindly, looking between the boy next to you and yourself. You both nodded, the boy putting his pencil down and nodding as well. She smiled and returned to reading through the alphabet. 

You turned and leaned over your desk so you were closer to the boy. “I like your drawing,” you whispered. He blushed in embarrassment at you seeing it but smiled nonetheless. 

“Thank you.”

You introduced yourself, sticking a hand out for him to shake. He grabbed it, his grip hesitant and soft. 

“I’m Aoki Dai. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too!”

“Kids!” The teacher raised her voice a little bit to get your attention. The both of you snapped back to be sitting up ultra-straight in your chairs and apologized simultaneously.

“Sorry.”

You and Aoki had become attached at the hip since that moment, only ever apart when you went home or were at a club of some sort that the other wasn’t involved in. Years later, when the both of you were in your second year of high school, you continued with those clubs. Aoki was in the school’s soccer club, doing well in team-based sports, while you enjoyed the chess club. You thrived on working alone. While you didn’t mind working with someone, you did your best when you worked alone. 

It was after school on a Tuesday and you walked toward the big oak tree in the front of the school where Aoki and you agreed to meet up every day after school before you’d walk home together. 

You were surprised to find your best friend with tears streaming down his cheeks, one of which was bruised black and blue. It was obvious the tears weren’t caused by the pain, however. 

Your gaze hardened and his eyes found yours. Just as his mouth opened to speak, presumably to say he was fine or some bullshit like that, you spoke first. “Who was it?”

“It’s fin-”

“Who. The hell. Was it?” You repeated, interrupting him with your harsh gaze and demanding words. 

He looked down in shame. “Ito Reina.”

That bitch. You knew exactly who he was talking about. She was on the soccer team with him and you would see her at every practice you sat in on or game you attended. You never liked her or her overly arrogant attitude just because she was the oldest on the team. She was a junior which she thought made her superior to everyone else. 

Your fists clenched before the sound of a familiar, infuriating laugh sounded from the entrance of the school. 

Aoki’s eyes widened as he saw the determination set in on your face, reaching out to stop you. “No, don’t-!”

It was too late. You’d already thrown your backpack down and started storming over to where Ito was walking with two of her, also arrogant and rude, friends. 

Her eyes fell on you when you got within a few yards of her and she rolled them. “Oh great. What do you wa-?”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence before your fist made contact with the side of her face. The girls beside her gasped loudly as she fell backward and onto the ground. You didn’t stop, jumping onto her and throwing a few more good hits in. When her friends tried to step in to help her, you elbowed one of them in the ribs and the other in the nose, leaving both of them crying in pain on the floor. After the fourth hit you gave her, you were satisfied with the bloody nose and bruising cheek she sported. 

You stood up, clenching and unclenching your fist to stop the stinging as the skin had split along your knuckles during your thrown punches. “So, here’s how this is going to go,” you started, crouching down in front of her and poking her throbbing cheek. “You’re going to apologize to my friend, Aoki, here, and then you’re going to leave him alone for the rest of your life. If I hear you’ve done anything like this again, I won’t stop at four,” you threatened calmly. She nodded fearfully, scared of the blank look in your eyes and on your face. After a few moments of her silence, you glared. “Well? I’m still waiting on that apology.”

She seemed to remember and frantically scrambled to her knees, kneeling in front of you and Aoki who stood a few feet behind you. 

“I’m sorry, Aoki Dai. I will never bother you again.”

You let out a satisfied hum before reaching to condescendingly pat the top of her head. “Good girl. Now get out of here before I change my mind about stopping at four hits.”

She clambered to stand, her two friends following closely behind her as they ran away from the two of you. 

When you turned around to face Aoki, he was staring at you with an amazed look and your backpack lightly clutched in his hands. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he breathed out, looking down at his feet in shame at the situation. He let out a gasp when he felt your arms wrap around his shoulders. 

“Yes, I did. You’re my best friend, Aoki. I’ll always be here to protect you,” you promised him.

And it was a promise you kept, protecting him for years and years from anything that threatened to hurt the boy you loved like a brother until you were ripped out of your life and ended up not seeing him for months. 

“ROUND TWENTY WILL BEGIN NOW.” 

The remaining money in the two girls’ balance was immediately used as their antis into the round. No matter what, one of them, if not both, was going to die this round. 

Taking a deep breath to control your emotions, you turned to face them, and their attention moved to you. Both eyes were fearful. Sad.

It broke your heart.

You gave them a forlorn smile. “It’s been an honor to play with the two of you. May the three of us be friends in the next life.”

Your words were enough to push Yuka over the edge as she started sobbing. 

“PLAYER SADA, YUKA, CHOOSE TO RAISE, CALL, OR FOLD.”

She had to swallow down her sobs long enough to speak before answering. “Call.”

Her voice was raw with pain, cracking at the end and she hung her head low. Her hand still desperately reaching for Kaori’s trying to comfort each other as they were sure they wouldn’t live through the game. 

The announcer went through each person’s turn. 

Nobody chose to raise the bet. 

It continued until all five cards were facing up in the center of the table. You sighed at the hand you were dealt. 

In the center of the table, the faceup cards were as such:

King of Clubs. Three of Hearts. Eight of Spades. Jack of Clubs. Eight of Diamonds.

You were dealt an Ace of Spades and an Eight of Hearts. 

Three of a kind.

“Fuck,” you whispered under your breath. 

“ALL HANDS WILL BE REVEALED NOW.”

Just as you suspected. You’d won.

Yuka’s hand was nothing. Two of Clubs and Four of Hearts. 

Kaori’s was a two-pair. Three of Diamonds and King of Clubs. 

Finally, Chishiya had a single pair. Seven of Diamonds and Seven of Spades. 

Winning wasn’t always fun.

“TWO PLAYERS HAVE REACHED BANKRUPTCY. IT IS NOW GAME OVER FOR THEM.”

You looked away, closing your eyes and trying to ignore the sobs. They screamed for a second as the metal bar closed in on them until everything went silent. You let out a little sigh, thankful their deaths were at least quick and hopefully not very painful. A small ding brought your attention to the phone you were given. 

“ONLY TWO PLAYERS REMAIN.

GAME CLEARED. CONGRATULATIONS.”

“Yay,” you said dryly. The metal poles surrounding you and Chishiya retracted, allowing the two of you to step out of your chairs and leave. 

Chishiya walked over to the body of his deceased companion. “Not so strong now,” he mocked the previous words the man told him earlier. Leaning down, he searched his pockets for the keys of the car they used to arrive at the game, finding them in the breast pocket of his blood-stained leather jacket. He tossed the keys into the air before catching them again with a smug but small smirk on his face. Just as he was about to speak, he turned to look at you and his words caught in his throat. You were pushing the chairs of the two girls together, panting at the exertion because of the heavyweight. It was when the two chairs were side by side, their armrests touching, that you stopped. You had a small, sad, smile on your face as you gently grabbed their hands, resting them on top of each other. 

“What’s that for?” Chishiya inquired. 

Without looking at him, you responded. “The last thing they wanted was to comfort each other. I thought they deserved to hold hands at the very least.”

Chishiya almost scoffed at the sudden personality switch from how you acted during the majority of the game versus now, not to mention how kind the switch was. How could you be so kind and considerate in the midst of a world like this one? In a world so selfish and uncaring about the lives of anyone or anything? It just didn’t make sense.

It intrigued him. 

Using your hands to close their wide, scared eyes and taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to look away from the girls and bring your thoughts away from the loneliness you felt with the lack of your best friend. Facing the boy in the white hoodie to see him already looking at you, you smoothed down your dress. “What?”

He stared at you for a few moments. The eye contact was intense as he studied you and you tilted your head in confusion at his silence. After a beat, he finally spoke. “Come with me.”

The confusion visibly grew on your face as you scrunched your eyebrows together. “What do you mean? Where?”

“The Beach,” he said simply before turning around and heading for the exit. 

“What? You’re going to the beach? Why?” You asked, reluctantly following behind him and watching as he grabbed the Six of Hearts card off the table on the way out. “We’re in the middle of Tokyo, there’s no beaches for miles.”

“Not the beach, Beach,” he clarified, and although it rang a bell in your mind, it still didn’t clear up your confusion.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” you told him and he rolled his eyes.

“It would if you were smarter,” he insulted and you slapped the back of his head instinctively - it was what you often did to Aoki when he would make a stupid comment. He stopped walking, turning to look at you, his eyebrows raised and his eyes set in a surprised yet slightly annoyed glare. You said nothing to explain your action, only crossing your arms over your chest and tilting your head with a cheeky smile. He sighed, turning back around and continuing his walk forward. “You’ll see when we get there.”

You just grinned to yourself as you skipped behind him. After a minute, an old, bright red Mustang appeared in your sights. It was parked poorly along the street in an area where it would most definitely be ticketed in the original Tokyo. It was beautiful and in very good condition. It was clear whoever the owner was - who you got the feel was not the bleach-blonde-haired boy leading you to the car - loved and cherished this car, keeping it as pristine as possible. “Why do you think I’ll trust you enough to get into a car with you?” You quizzed as the two of you got closer to the car with each step. 

“If you’re smart, you’ll know you shouldn’t,” he told you without missing a beat or faltering in his movements. You scoffed. 

“What’s with you and thinking I’m not smart?”

“Well, you haven’t done anything to prove otherwise,” he reasoned. 

‘Funny. It’s not like you’ve done anything to prove you’re trustworthy either,’ you thought. 

Once you reached the car, he stopped on the passenger’s side of the car - a fact that confused you considering he was the one who had the keys and you expected him to be the driver. It surprised you even more when he opened the door and held it open for you, leaning on it and gesturing for you to go in. 

You schooled your expression back into a teasing smirk. “Ooh. A gentleman and an asshole. You’re just my type,” you joked before your face dropped to a more serious one. “I still don’t trust you won’t kill me the moment I get in.”

“Would you feel better if I pinky promised?” He asked sarcastically, his voice remaining in the same monotonous tone he’d used the whole night. 

“It would, actually,” you told him, feigning being serious as you got into the car. “I guess I don’t have much to live for anyways,” you confessed. 

‘I’ve been sleeping on a couch in a clothing store for the past week anyway. If this ‘Beach’ place is a base of some sort then maybe I’ll finally have a more comfortable spot to rest,’ you thought to yourself.

Chishiya closed the door behind you, making sure you were fully in and your dress wouldn’t get caught before he did, then walked around to settle into the driver’s seat. 

When he turned the car on, the sound of an old song from the 60’s immediately started softly playing through the speakers. 

“How do you have music? I’ve not been able to make anything work since I arrived here,” you questioned, looking at him curiously. 

“Devices that have integrated circuits don’t work, though I don’t expect you to know what that is,” he insulted again, arrogantly. You just stayed quiet with a roll of your eyes as he continued. He pointed a finger at the cassette player that was a part of the car. “This car’s from the 1960s and has a cassette player; so if you have a cassette you can play music.”

‘The owner must have never used the car. It’s in almost perfect condition,’ you thought. 

The drive over was relatively quiet, the music not playing too loudly and neither of you speaking. You decided to hold off on any questions you had about this so-called ‘Beach’ for when you got there. You really weren’t in the mood to hear his condescending tone when you didn’t know the answer to something and he had to smugly explain it to you.

To be honest, though, you didn’t expect him to answer even if you did ask him.

When you arrived at Beach, you realized it was a modern hotel that had the word ‘Beach’ spray painted over the original sign called ‘Seaside Paradise | Tokyo.’ Once Chishiya parked, you got out of the car and followed him into the building. You could hear the distant sound of loud party music, but you ignored it in favor of watching Chishiya as he walked. Each stride was filled with such confidence and nonchalantness that it was hard to not find him intriguing. 

He led you further into the building until you reached an area protected by two strong-looking men who leaned against the walls. Although they looked like bodyguards, the sight of them clad in palm-tree-designed swimming trunks kind of lessened their intimidation. They looked alarmed at the two of your sudden appearances but one look at Chishiya was enough for them to relax again and allow him through.

You were not so lucky. One of the men roughly grabbed your shoulder when you tried to follow after him and pulled you back. 

“If you don’t take your hands off me within the next few seconds, you won’t be able to use them for the rest of your life,” you warned him but his grip just tightened around you as he attempted to drag you back. Within a second, you had his arm locked behind him and his chest pressed against the wall he was leaning against not even a minute prior. 

“She’s with me. She’s a newcomer,” Chishiya explained as the guard you had pressed against the wall groaned in pain. He stopped the other guard from intervening, not even turning around or slowing his steps like he expected them to stop you. The guard you had pressed against the wall stopped struggling and you slowly let him go. Giving the two men a charming smile, you followed the boy around the corner, nearly running into his back when he stopped abruptly. Examining the room, you noticed the dim lighting and the two leather couches facing each other. On one of those couches supported a familiar man with chin-length brown hair. He wore a thin bathrobe with a black backing and some patterns along the fabric. Underneath the bathrobe, you could see he was shirtless with only a pair of orange swimming trunks around his hips. He was sat with two girls who seemed to be in their mid-twenties on either side of him. One wore a black bathing suit with white polka dots decorating it while the other wore a hot pink bikini with ruffles. 

And the man currently had his tongue shoved down one of their throats. 

Chishiya cleared his throat to capture the attention of the man and after a few more seconds of making out with the girl, he pulled away. Leaning back against the seat, he manspread his legs as each girl cuddled up his side. 

“Ah! Chishiya, my boy! What brings you here?” The man expressed. 

He held up the Six of Hearts card in between two fingers before holding it out for the man to take. “I’ve also brought someone,” Chishiya explained, moving out of the way so you were more exposed to the man’s view. 

When his gaze fell on you, you saw the way his breath stalled in his lungs. It was similar to your reaction when first saw him only a few moments ago. 

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you! Your uncle’s talked a lot about you.”

“Well, that’s never a good sign.”

“Would you guys turn that shitty song off? You know I hate it.”

“Oh come on uncle! Stop your whining and come dance with us! ‘Hey, I just met you! And this is crazy!’”

“‘But here’s my number! So call me maybe!’”

“What made you want to open up a hat shop, Uncle Tak?”

“It was kind of a surprise decision. Some unfortunate events happened and I needed a job to keep me afloat for a while. It ended up sticking.”

“I think it’s cool. You’re like the mad hatter from Alice in Wonderland, minus the ‘mad’ part.”

“Maybe we should keep it as me being the hatter, that hat doesn’t fit you at all.”

Takeru swallowed subtly before turning back to Chishiya who eyed the two of you intensely. 

“I see,” he mused, his voice underlying with a certain tenseness, putting the card in the breast pocket of his robe. “I assume she is joining The Beach then, am I right?” Chishiya nodded, confirming his assumptions before walking over and leaning down to whisper something inaudible to you into his ear. The man looked at him with an impressed and moderately surprised look. Turning back to you, he grinned somewhat hesitantly. “Well then, have a seat,” he gestured to the couch in front of him and you snuck a glance at Chishiya before obliging and sitting down. “Everyone out. I’d like a moment alone with the newcomer,” Takeru commanded and everyone in the room stood up to leave, Chishiya being the last one. The two of you locked eyes as he walked past the couch and to the exit behind you. The look in his gaze was analytical, most likely of your poorly disguised relationship with his leader. 

You and Takeru stayed quiet as you waited for everyone to leave the room and for the door to close behind them. The moment the latch of the door sounded, he was out of his seat and rushing toward you. You stood up just in time for him to pull you into his comforting embrace. You felt unshed tears burning your eyes but held them back with a shaky breath, gripping onto him tighter. 

“I’m not happy you’re in this hellhole, but I’m glad you’re at least here,” he told you once the two of you pulled away. He sat next to you on the couch, pouring both of you a glass of bourbon and leaning back in the seat. 

“When did this whole thing start?” You asked him, gesturing to the room and hotel around you. 

“A few weeks after Aguni and I first arrived here. We set it up to give people hope of a better life while here.”

You paused mid-sip, turning to him with a hopeful yet fearful gleam in your eyes. “Mori's here?” You weren't sure if you were hoping you misheard him or praying you heard him right. 

He nodded, smiling at the nickname you gave your uncle, and you let out a shaky breath. “We arrived in this world together. Both of us were really worried when you were late to show up that day. It didn’t help that the apocalypse happened and you still weren’t there.”

“My alarm didn’t go off,” you weakly defended yourself and he gave you a small smile. 

“Well, besides that, Welcome to The Beach. It’s procedure for me to tell all newcomers the rules, so I’m just going to get that over with,” he told you and you nodded. “Rule number 1: You must always wear a swimsuit when you’re on the hotel grounds. It prevents anyone without permission from hiding weapons, specifically firearms,” he started and you nodded, marginally reluctantly but willing to get past the idea of constantly wearing a swimsuit if it meant a stable, consistent place to live. Bonus points if that place to live was with one of your uncles. Besides, you were positive you could come up with a creative way to make yourself more comfortable with the constant lack of clothing - something like a coverup would probably suffice. “Rule number 2: All cards belong to the Beach. As I’m sure you’ve noticed,” he continued and pat the pocket where the card Chishiya gave him was. 

“Okay, but why?” You questioned. 

He chuckled. “Well, that is a story for another day. Perhaps tomorrow I will call for you and explain more about that.”

“Sure, that sounds alright to me,” you approved before asking, “So, what’s the third rule?” 

He took another sip of his bourbon before replying. “Rule number three: Death to all traitors.”

Your eyes widened, taken aback by the morbidity of his statement.

“Wait- really?” You asked, and he nodded, his face devoid of any particular emotion. “Well shit, there goes my plans of burning the place down,” you joked sarcastically and he cracked a smile at your behavior. It was clear he missed your mannerisms just as much as you missed his. 

“It’s a good thing this world hasn’t taken your humor, I hoped it wouldn’t get gloomy. Also, I’m glad you took that rule well. The last recruit took the news rather… aggressively.”

You didn’t really want to know what that meant. 

“Well, I’ll let you get settled in. I’ll have someone show you to your room and we can reconvene tomorrow. Tonight, you can go to the bathing suit room so you can choose one or two there. We definitely don’t have any shortages of them. Then, tomorrow in the afternoon, I will have someone come for you and I'll introduce you to the executives,” he planned. You stood up and nodded, giving him a hug and walking toward the door with him. Just before you could open the door, he stopped you with a serious look. “Oh, and… don’t tell anyone your relations with Aguni and me,” he whispered. You nodded in understanding and he smiled at you. He swung the door open and then gave a quick order to one of the guards, directing him to take you to your room. You shot a final wave at him before walking away. 

You stood in front of the mirror, evaluating one of the swimsuits you chose around a half hour ago. It was a green bikini and you were just checking to see how it fit before deciding to wear it for the day. Doing a little twirl, you checked how it looked from the back before deciding it was a good choice. Slipping on the sandals you chose along with the variety of swimsuits, you exited the room now appointed as yours, and started heading for the stairs so you could join the party. It wasn’t too late according to the clock hanging in your room so you decided exploring the place you would be staying for the next… however long, wouldn’t hurt. Stopping by the bar, you ordered a simple drink, one that wouldn’t be too much like a shot, but enough for you to maybe get buzzed. You tried to ignore the many eyes of the people by the poolside watching you as you walked over and claimed an empty seat. 

You weren’t alone for long as a dreadlocked girl in a blue bikini walked up and plopped herself onto the same seat as you, your knees skimming briefly before she moved hers away. 

“You’re the newbie, yeah?” She questioned and you wondered how she got the information there was a newcomer so fast. 

“Yeah, I arrived like 30 minutes ago,” you validated. 

“I know. I saw you walk in with Chishiya and head to Hatter. I hear you’re a wiz in Hearts games. That true?” She asked. 

‘Hatter? Huh, so he really took my comment to heart,’ you thought to yourself before answering the girl’s question aloud. “I mean, I guess so. I’ve survived all the Heart games that I’ve done so far so I think I’m decent at them.”

She gasped and her eyes widened. “The fuck do you mean all the Heart games you’ve done? How many is that?”

You smiled sheepishly. “Well I’ve done 8 games in total, and 5 of those were Hearts games.”

She gaped at you before forcing her mouth to close and letting out a sound of disbelief. “Shit, I can’t decide if you’re the luckiest or unluckiest person to exist.”

“I’ll help. I’m very unlucky,” you joked mildly and she laughed. Holding out your hand, you introduced yourself to her with a smile that she genuinely returned. 

“I’m Kuina. I’m sure we’ll be great friends.”

“I hope so,” you agreed. You got to talking about anything and everything that came up until the topic landed back on your experience with games.

“So eight games in total, huh?” She asked. 

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“When did you first arrive here?”

You sighed. “I’ve been here for about two and a half weeks. I spent the last week sleeping in a Plato’s Closet.”

She nodded in acknowledgment. “So you’ve done five Hearts games, right? What are the other three games you’ve done?”

“Yeah. Five,” you confirmed solemnly. “My first and second games were both Diamonds. Those, I was able to get past reasonably quickly but neither was a very high difficulty level anyway. The next three games were Heart games, the hardest of those was the Eight of Hearts that I did. Zero stars. Would not buy again,” you joked but she just looked worried. “Then the next one was a Spades game which wasn’t too bad. We had to scale the walls of a room while they were closing in on us. The rest were all Hearts. No Clubs though. I’ve heard those are about teamwork but-”

“But they’re also the easiest to get through,” you heard a voice interrupt from behind you.

“Chishiya!” Kuina exclaimed with a small smile. Turning around, you watched him as he casually strolled up with his hands in his pockets and sat down on the seat across from yours, facing the two of you. 

“Kuina,” he acknowledged back with a slight nod before his eyes found yours. 

“Hiya, blondie. You planning on abandoning me with another strange man?” You jested and you swore you saw his lips twitch in a smile. It was gone before you could be sure, though. 

“Wait, what?” Kuina asked, glancing between you and Chishiya who held an intense staring contest. 

“Hatter,” Chishiya answered for you and you saw Kuina nod out of the corner of your eye. 

“Oh, that makes sense,” she understood. Chishiya’s eyes flickered away from yours to glance at Kuina and you inwardly cheered at him looking away first. It was childish, but you couldn’t help leaning back smugly as you also turned to look at Kuina. “Strange man?” She laughed and you joined in. 

“Well, I wouldn’t consider a drunk man in swim trunks making out with a girl as another sat on his other side ‘normal’,” you scoffed playfully, remembering what he was doing when you first walked into the room and nudging your shoulder against hers. 

“Neither would I,” she agreed. 

You turned your head when Chishiya called your name, locking your eyes on him again. You were never one to shy away from eye contact so why start now. 

It didn’t matter that he was as attractive as he was.

“How did it go?” He asked you monotonously, referring to the talk with Hatter. 

“All things considered, I guess it went pretty well. He said he was going to call for me tomorrow and ‘introduce me to the executives,’ whoever they are,” you shrugged, taking a sip of your drink. The two shared a look, one you couldn’t decipher. You looked back and forth between them. “What?” 

Kuina snapped her eyes back to you, smiling brightly. A little too brightly. “Nothin-”

“You’ll find out tomorrow,” Chishiya interrupted her and she rolled her eyes before shooting him a light-hearted glare. 

“You shouldn’t interrupt people, by the way. It’s considered rude. Or maybe that’s not a custom on whatever planet you came from,” you deadpanned before casually taking another sip of your drink. Kuina let out a loud bark of a laugh before slapping her hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking from trying to hold back her laughs. You tried to suppress the grin that threatened to overtake your face but it proved futile. Instead, you hid it behind the rim of your cup. 

That is, until, fingers wrapped around your hand as it still held the cup and brought it above your head. Turning around in confusion, your eyes landed on the culprit. He was tall, 5’10” - 5’11” if not already 6’. The black giraffe print long-sleeve button-up shirt he wore was unbuttoned, revealing the black tank top he wore underneath. He had a piercing through his left eyebrow and over his shoulder was an assault rifle which he held proudly. It was strange, he looked oddly familiar. 

He’s kind of cute.

He used the hand holding your drink, as well as your own hand, to bring it to his lips and down the rest before shooting you a smirk.

Nevermind. 

Loosening your grip on the cup, it fell through your fingers and hit the ground, shattering across the concrete. Slapping his hand away from your own, you stood up and turned to face him. 

“Can I help you?” You asked and crossed your arms over your chest, ignoring the worried looks Kuina was giving you. 

He smirked. “Well, if you’re offering.”

His eyes roamed down to your breasts with no shame and stayed there until you reached out to slap his chin to force his head up. “I’m not,” you mocked his tone and told him condescendingly. 

He let out an amused huff, sticking his tongue out to lick his lips and you noticed another piercing down the middle of it. 

“You a newbie?” He asked.

“What would you do if I was?”

“Well, I’d offer to show you around the hotel. I’m sure you’d have a very nice time.”

“Now who’s offering?” You sneered at him with a tilt of your head. 

“Get lost, Niragi,” Chishiya calmly told the intruder as he stood behind you. 

“Yes, Niragi. Please do get lost,” you reiterated his words with a little shooing motion of your hand.

“Yes, ma’am,” he complied, walking backward as he spoke before slowly turning around and strolling away. It was then you noticed the eyes that had been locked onto your interaction for the past minute or two. Some seemed impressed while others seemed fearful. You ignored all of them in favor of sitting back down next to your new friend and the man sitting across from you. The silent atmosphere soon faded and the loud conversations of the party continued. 

“You really should stay away from him. His group is… well, they’re not to be trifled with,” Kuina warned.

“Who is he?” You asked her, looking behind you at the empty space where Niragi just inhabited. 

“Someone you shouldn’t mess with,” she restated seriously, slightly irking you with how vague she was being.

“He’s part of a group called the Militants. You’ll learn more about them tomorrow, too,” Chishiya once again explained where Kuina was being vague about. Although Kuina was more sociable, his bluntness was the one thing you truly appreciated about Chishiya. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly. “What exactly is happening tomorrow?”

He gave you a smug smirk. “I guess you’ll just have to wait until tomorrow and find out then, Amor.”

“God, you’re such a little shit-wait… ‘Amor’?”

He didn’t say anything else, just keeping the same smug smile on his face as he stood and walked away. You ignored the heat rising to your cheeks and just thanked the fact that he walked away so you wouldn’t have to deal with him while you were so flustered. “Ignore him,” Kuina rolled her eyes from beside you. “He’s probably calling you that because of your experience with Heart games. Amor is also Eros, or Cupid, in Greek mythology. Chishiya’s a sucker for that shit.”

“Oh. Okay,” you replied, feeling annoyed at yourself for the small amount of disappointment that settled in at her words.

You scoffed in annoyance as you remembered the shattered cup on the floor, glinting and sparkling in the moonlight as it sat like tiny crystals on the concrete. “That bitch stole my drink…”

~~~

Taglist!

None yet but let me know if you want to be added!

[starbornsoulrider]

how the ending to that quest went in my head-

spoilers for new story quest

It all happens in a blink. One minute, Halo was staring at the face of the man who took their beloved mentor from them. The face they'd hoped to never see again. They weren't even able to do anything- the shock had overcome their body long before they were able to shout, scream, attack, do anything. That can't be him. This has to be a dream. A nightmare. Please let it be a nightmare.

The next, there's a flash, and the ground beneath Buddy disappears. The Dark Riders, Mr. Sands, Darko, Devil's Gap, are all swallowed by white. Halo can't even realize where they've been transported to before the visions start. They don't feel themself fall sideways off Buddy's back and hit the rocky ground with a thump as shadows begin to consume their vision in place of the blinding light from before.

Everything plays out again, like a movie running in their mind. Their friends, the Dark Riders, Mr. Sands- Elissa wreaking complete havoc as Garnok's thousands of arms burst forth from the earth, shredding Jorvik apart like paper. Maniacal laughing ringing in their ear as everything they'd fought tooth and nail to protect crumbles like dust.

Darko has a hand around their throat, dangling them over the edge of a cliff, over the roaring ocean below. There's crystal shards scattered at his feet, and among them, Halo can make out the petrified faces of their friends and soul horse. Their horror-struck faces, captured in pink stone.

He lets go, and Halo plummets through the screeching air and plunges into the unforgiving cold. A tentacle wraps around their torso, dragging them back into the forsaken, empty darkness and trapping them for eternity.

"Halo! HALO!"

The sound of their horse's voice crying out to them slowly draws them out of the terror flashing before their eyes, and back to reality.

"Halo! Halo, you need to breathe!"

They can make out their horse's blue eyes through the haze. Following his instructions, they squeeze their eyes shut, and slowly but surely the horrific visions begin to dwindle. Buddy's voice talking them through it acts as a lifeline, keeping them from being dragged back down.

After what feels like hours, everything finally clears, and falls quiet. Their bleary eyes blink back open, greeted by the sight of the clouded night sky and the red particles left as residue from that teleportation spell. They suddenly register the weight on their chest, where Timber lay to try and calm them down. As they come back to their senses, their hand reaches up to rest on the Mistfox's soft fur.

A few more breaths later, and they make an attempt to sit up. Timber shifts into their lap, inky eyes never leaving his owner as he lets out a worried whimper.

Buddy's ears droop back in concern, but he gives his rider space, head hovering a safe distance away. Thick silence holds in the air as Halo gazes out blankly to the lapping shores of Cape Sorrow.

"...Halo?" he speaks up cautiously.

The young Soul Rider's mouth hangs open for a moment more. Halo's stare never leaves the towering cliffs of South Hoof in the distance as faint, raspy words finally part from their lips.

"My visions of Garnok..." they breathe out shakily, trembling hands squeezing Timber closer. "...they're coming true."

[vmrenarde]

An Email Through Time

You have mail… You have mail…

The computer echoed across the room. The robotic voice flowing through the speakers sounded as though it was trapped inside of a tin can. Old hardware seemed strangely difficult to upgrade in the Age of Technology. I groaned, slamming a pillow over my face and tuning out the sound of the broken notification system. You’d think that one alert would be enough. 

Almost as if a God above watched me in spite, my alarm clock blared on my bedside table. I’d always been a strong advocate for sleeping in. Waking up at five in the morning to catch the train to work seemed to exacerbate my affliction. I grabbed my phone, silenced the alarm, and checked my social media. It was my daily routine and a comfort I had grown accustomed to. 

You have mail… You have mail…

The notifications from my computer did not stop, interrupting my routine. Slowly, I dragged myself out of bed and over to my cluttered desk. I sat down quickly, the rolling chair under me was not expecting my sudden weight and rolled away. I grabbed the corners of the desk and pulled myself back. Clicking through my computer, I looked at my new mail. Most were ads or subscriptions that I had long since forgotten about. Nothing of interest caught my eye until I saw a subject line in all caps. 

READ IMMEDIATELY 

My heart began to beat faster. The email was only a few hours old, landing in my inbox while I was deep in sleep. The email address was clear as day. The same string of letters and numbers that I had created so many years ago. I had begged my mom for weeks to let me create an email. I had wanted to play my online games, but I could never have imagined that one day this would be waiting for me.

I had heard from so many of my friends that they had all received emails from the future. I didn’t believe them, choosing to think they were being scammed by someone who wanted them to buy thousands of dollars in gift cards. But, with my email address staring back at me, I felt a pressure in my chest that I could not comprehend. 

The news had not spoken of this phenomenon yet, but in the coming years, it would wreak havoc on the world as we knew it. We would be able to communicate with our past selves. As far as I knew, my friends had only used it to warn themselves away from boys who would eventually break their hearts. At the time, it seemed silly to me. There were pros and cons I suppose. On one hand, you would save yourself the pain of a breakup, but on the other, you would be restricting yourself. You'd be limiting the deep and enriching moments you have with other people.

My heart was in my throat as my finger hovered over the mouse. I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to read it. But, I knew myself. If, in the future, I had become okay with this procedure, there was a reason. Or, even more horrific, I still wasn’t on board with it in the future but had to make the difficult choice because of a catastrophe waiting to happen. 

I took a deep breath and clicked the email. 

SUBJECT: READ IMMEDIATELY 

Today, for you, it is March 15th, 2025. Do not under any circumstances go to work. 

Short and sweet. To the point. Distressingly so. 

“I have to go to work,” I spoke out loud. “What the fuck. I have to go to work!” I began to get frustrated. I can’t imagine a world where I have forgotten my constant struggle with money.

I searched through my email frantically, praying that there would be another message holding more context than “Don’t go”.  It’s honestly so typical of me to leave out pertinent information. Maybe future me knew that if I was told why I shouldn’t go, I wouldn’t think it was a big deal. I left it vague to set off this type of response in myself. 

I cursed under my breath and stared at the phone lying on my desk. I thought of the shop’s number, reciting it in my mind like a mantra. My foot bounced against the hardwood flooring and I rubbed my eyes in frustration. 

I picked up the phone and dialed the number, placing the phone on speaker and laying it back down on my desk. My manager, Meghan, answered in a somber tone. 

“I can’t come in today.” 

“What? Eileen, come on. You’re the third person to call out this morning. If one more person calls out I’ll have to close the shop for the day.” 

“Wait, other people are calling out?” 

“Yeah, and if you don’t come in I’m fucked.” 

“Meg…” I rubbed at my temples. “Please. I never call out. This is my first sick day in over a year.” 

I heard a deep sigh come through the speakers. “I know. You’re my best employee for a reason. Do you know why everyone is calling out?” 

“I can take a guess,” I said, running my mouse over the cryptic email. “You know, you should probably close for the day. I don’t know why. I just have a bad feeling about today.” 

I had worked with Meg for seven years. We had been the only consistencies through years of other people quitting or being fired. She deserved her spot as manager. Well, she deserved a more lucrative job, but if she had to stay in a shithole, she might as well manage it. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“I got an email from the future. You know, like Dennis was talking about a few weeks ago?” 

The line went quiet for a moment, then clicking from a computer mouse. Meg gasped. 

“I just… This is impossible. I thought we always said it was bullshit.” 

“I thought it was too. What happened?” 

“I just checked my email. I got one too. Oh my god, this is so scary.” Meg took a deep breath and cleared her thoughts. “Okay, I am thoroughly terrified, so I’m going to close up the shop for today. I’ll send everyone who is here home and then I’ll send a mass text to all the employees that we will be closing for the day. That seems like a good idea. I’ll text the boss and tell him that too many people called in sick and that it is impossible to run the store with three people.” 

“Good. Wanna come over?” 

Meg laughed as she began the process of closing down the store. “I feel like we shouldn’t be in groups, what if it’s like the apocalypse or something?” 

“If it was like the apocalypse I think the news would be reporting on mass emails. Come on, we can wait it out together. I have alcohol!”

“Well, neither of us works tomorrow-“ 

“And maybe we will never have to work again!” I laughed into the microphone. This entire situation was much more than I could bear on my own. 

“Okay. Fine, give me an hour to close up and I’ll be there. You better have breakfast ready for me, I’m starving.” 

“Of course, whatever your heart desires shall be yours.” 

Meg laughed and hung up. I put my phone down and stretched my back against the chair. I allowed my head to spin for a few moments before shaking it off and heading to the living room. I cleared any garbage, refolded the throw blankets, and fluffed the pillows on the couch. Walking into the kitchen I noticed last night’s dinner plates sitting in the sink. I groaned and got to work cleaning. Once I was done, I realized how much time I had before Meg would arrive. 

I plopped onto the couch, trying to wrap my mind around the events of the morning. I could not come up with any substantial theories and it hurt my brain to think about it. When I started to make breakfast, the email was still burned into my brain. Do not under any circumstances go to work. I made large strips of bacon, scrambled eggs, and buttered toast. Do not under any circumstances go to work. I ran around the kitchen, looking for the blueberry muffin mix that I knew I had bought. Do not under any circumstances go to work. Finally, I took a deep breath and placed my hands on the counter to steady myself. I needed to relax. It was probably just a fluke or a scam. 

As I finished breakfast, Meg had arrived. She sat down at the kitchen table and filled her plate. I poured her a glass of orange juice and apologized for the lack of muffins. She rolled her eyes and ate her fill of eggs and bacon. I pecked at the food, but I was no longer hungry. My stomach was still in knots.  

Meg insisted that we have the news on in the background, in case something happened while we lounged around for most of the day. We swapped stories and gossiped about the people we knew. None of it mattered and that was exactly what we needed to take our minds off the heavy weight in our hearts.

We had ordered an early dinner before I started work on a large pitcher of margaritas. I had to make good on my promise of alcohol. Between pulses on the blender, Meg filled me in on the contents of the latest romance book she had finished. We laughed at all the protagonist's stupid decisions. 

“It was like a Hallmark movie. You have to read it.” 

I sat down with our glasses and we talked for hours. By 10:30, we were drunk and giggling like any other night. Meg was gushing over how cute Dennis was. She said that she’d love to ask him out but didn’t think that he liked her. I rolled my eyes and smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so in love. You should text him.” 

“What? Right now? No way, I could barely keep a conversation with him going right now.” 

I threw my head back with laughter. “You’re probably right. In the morning, then?” 

Meg repositioned herself on the couch, swirling her almost empty martini glass. She was quiet for a moment. 

“Here, let me get you a refill,” I said, grabbing her glass and walking into the kitchen. 

“I can’t believe we got those damn emails, it’s like-“ She cut herself off, I turned to look at her. She was staring at the TV, the look on her face sobered me. “Turn the volume up. Come here, turn the volume up!” She was frantically looking for the remote. I rushed back in, swiping it off the armchair and raising the volume. 

A lone reporter stood in the center of the city, our storefront in the background of the broadcast. The street was desolate, an unsettling sight. The area had a lively nightlife. There were many bars within half a mile of that spot and a slew of businesses that stayed open late to accommodate the heavy, drunk, foot traffic. Seeing it empty left a pit in my stomach. 

“…After nearly twelve hours, police still have no clue what has happened in the city. Unfortunately, there are no witnesses. The area has been almost abandoned. Families are saying that their loved ones came into the city this morning to go to work. At some point, around 11 am, they stopped responding to texts or calls. Nobody has heard from them since.” 

Meg had a hand over her mouth, muffling any gasps she would accidentally release. My head felt like it was spinning again. I checked my phone. I was bombarded by texts and calls but my fingers shook too much to respond to any. Twelve hours had passed since these people had gone missing. I felt my breathing become faster and my heartbeat grew louder. 

“…We are unsure of what this means, where these people have gone, or if they will come back. The police have put a lockdown on the area. Once we have wrapped here, not a single soul is allowed in or out of the area.” 

“We would have been there,” Meg said, stating the obvious thought that floated through the room. 

“And if we were there, we would have disappeared.” 

“So, if we disappeared, how could we have emailed ourselves?” 

Meg and I looked at each other for a long moment before reverting our attention to the screen. 

You’ve got mail… You’ve got mail…

Meg and I jumped out of our skin, the notification seemed like thunder in a world that was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. 

“Sorry,” I said, shaking my head and getting up to check my email. As I entered my bedroom, I looked out the window onto the open street below. Nobody was walking and there weren’t any cars driving, but all the apartments were lit up with people flitting around inside. Everyone was too terrified to leave their homes. 

“Nobody is outside,” I called to Meg, hoping to share in the unease. I shook the computer mouse, bringing my computer screen back to life. The newest email made my heart leap again. I couldn’t take much more of this. 

SUBJECT: THANK YOU

I can’t begin to explain how grateful I am. I’m not sure how time will flow moving forward, but you stopped us from, technically, enduring the worst experience of our life. I do not know what happens from here but thank you for saving us. 

The message was still so cryptic. What did I save us from? How would this change events in the future? Will I remember an event I didn’t experience? Well, technically, I guess I did experience it, but this current form of myself didn’t. I began to feel nauseous. Margaritas didn’t seem to go well with changing the course of the future.

I stood from my desk and walked slowly back to the living room. Meg was staring at her phone screen, tears pouring down her face. She looked up at me, holding her phone in my direction. I took it gingerly and read the email that was brightly displayed on her screen. 

It was the same.

For more original writing, follow my Patreon! All my writing is currently public access.

[idiotwithanipad]

The Last Goodbye

(Amy (My OC) gets a visitor)

(TW: Alcohol, Drugs, Addition, mentions of abuse and neglect)

"And you remember tech-nick I tell you 'bout?"

"Yeah, yeah- I think I've got it..." Amy replied to the caveman, patting his hand against her shoulder to urge her on. For the past few days, Robin had been teaching Amy how to smell things beyond their ghostly bodies. Sounds simple, but actually, not quite so simple. Over the many thousands of years being dead, Robin seemed to be one of the very few ghosts who could smell things that weren't his fellow ghosts.

Without even seeing, or hearing, or knowing that that horrific stuffed bear came along, Robin caught a whiff of it. He knew exactly what it was without even needing to see it. Seemingly, Amy, the newest ghost, had that ability also.

Some of the cooks in the kitchen had been preparing a funny, meaty, layered type of food. The crispy, bubbling cheese on the surface looked enticing, even to him, and he leaned past one of the living cooks to take a sniff. Pretty good. Not as nice as HIS favourite food, but still good.

The faint but ever growing sound of heavy boots stomping their way into the kitchen had caused him to spin and watch for the figure to emerge. Sure enough, no living, no cook. Amy. She lingered in the doorway to the kitchen and glanced from Robin, to stove, then back to meet his gaze.

"You smell too?"

"Yeah?... Why? Is that bad?..."

He merely let out and laugh and ushered the girl closer to get a satisfying look at her former favourite food. The lasagna looked and smelled heavenly, but not as good as her late Granddad's.

Ever since that moment, Robin began instructing her on how to smell almost everything around her, like it was when she was alive.

"If it too hard, close your eyes and let brain do hard work. You smell a smell and then, whoosh! Brain give you picture in head from sub-con-shus" Robin said, matter of fact. Guy could be intelligent when he wanted.

He stood at the threshold of the kitchen again, keeping his arm out so that Amy couldn't peek in nor enter. He watched as a cook opened the oven a brought up a tray of chicken drum sticks.

"What you smell?"

Amy stared at the wall beside Robin and her brow creased as she inhaled deeply.

"It's- okay it's. It's not a cake. I know that for a fact"

"Go on" He encouraged, an intrigued grin on his lips.

Amy held a hand to her temple and took two shallow sniffs.

"It's not a pie..."

Robin bounced on his heels; she seemed to be getting closer, verging from sweets to savoury.

Amy frowned, determined and took a long drag of air.

"It's some kind of meat... Right?"

"Getting close!" Robin was practically trembling with anticipation, watching as the cook sprinkled the drumsticks with seasoning.

"... Salt... Garlic... Paprik- it's fucking chicken!" Amy slapped her hands together.

"IT CHICKEN!" Robin bellowed, jumping from foot to foot, grinning like a toddler.

Amy pumped the air.

"Get in!"

Finally, Robin allowed her to look into the kitchen as the cook rolled the tray back into the oven. She grinned like she was sixteen again and held up her palms. Robin laughed and clapped his hands against her's in victory.

"What else can we try?" She asked.

Robin glanced about. There didn't seem to be any other foods at their disposal to test her against. So maybe she was ready to try just any object?

A mischievous grin spread on Robin's prank pulling lips.

"I just get idea. Come on!" He barked jovily as he already began jogging through the wall, beckoning her to follow.

Thomas idly strode through the library, his eyes wafting lovingly over his favourite reads in life, avoiding Byron like the black death.

"He here! He here, Stompy!"

The poet nearly let out a shrill cry and jolted, spinning on his heels and weakly clenching his fists more like a munching hamster than a boxer.

"... Robin? How be you?" The poet smiled, hiding his fury as he bowed his head.

Amy quickly passed through one of the bookshelves and stopped at Robin's side, confused.

"Thomas? Why Thomas?"

Thomas frowned in confusion and contemplated taking a weary step back.

"Take a sniff and find out..." Robin snickered.

Thomas's eyes popped wide.

"Pardon?!"

Amy glanced up at Robin, unsure, then faced Thomas who looked about ready to flee.

Amy took a breath.

A pause.

Thomas waved his hand sheepishly at Amy.

"What is this? What game are you two playing at?"

"Sorry, Robin, all I can smell is grass..." Amy shrugged, turning her head back to look at Robin. He merely let out a suppressed chuckle and waved his hand for her to carry on.

"Go on, go on..."

Squinting suspiciously, Amy returned to Thomas and risked stepping closer to the dumbfounded poet who in turn, braced himself and held up his fingers to make a crucifix.

Robin, tickled pink, practically doubled over and clutched his gut because of his contained laughter. Thomas sighed.

"If this is some sort of game, then-"

"Did you shit yourself?"

Robin exploded into laughter and pantomimed the moment of embarrassment in which Thomas accidentally dismounted his horse and dropped his shoe into horse dung.

"Was horse- was horse..." Robin clarified, bending forward as though seeking the nearest object to lean onto.

Thomas gasped, turned up his nose at the pair and swiftly strode from the room. Leaving the confused Amy and the chortling caveman alone.

--

After recovering from his rounds of laughter, Robin and Amy wandered into the Lobby; maybe some livings had distinct scents to identify?

"Oh! There you are. Was wondering where you'd gotten to" Humphrey's voice called from the corner. His head must've been knocked from the small magazine pile on the table he'd been placed on earlier, resting on his cheek on the stone floor.

It only took Amy two seconds to locate him, as she stepped over to pick him up.

"Sorry, Humphrey. I was meaning to come look for you" Amy smiled.

The Tudor's head grinned and rolled his eyes playfully.

"No, it's fine. Sounded like you two were 'aving a right good laugh. What'd I miss?" He asked, looking past Amy to Robin who was still recovering from his laughing fit.

"Stompy can smell 'fings like I can. Been showing her how" Robin replied, patting her back. Humphrey blinked, surprised.

"Really? Ooh, that's something, 'innit? Anything nice?" The Tudor's eyes suddenly turned concerned and somewhat disappointed.

"Not anyone smoking? You'll end up hooked, I'm tellin' ya... "

Amy snorted.

"I used to go through a twenty pack a day, Humphrey, a few sniffs of second handers ain't gonna kill me. Besides, I've already croaked" Amy mocked.

Robin and Humphrey shared a wide eyed and flummoxed look at the girl's bleak confessions. Amy chuckled again and took a seat on one of the empty sofas, Robin following to recline beside her. She placed Humphrey back onto the table before them.

"Well- what DID you end up getting then, Poppet?..."

Amy grinned.

"Chicken. Grass, and-"

She couldn't even finish, Robin once again chuckling away to himself.

"And Robin neglected to tell me that Thomas stepped in horse shit the day he died and he still carries that scent with him to this day. Just faintly though" Amy grinned, trying not to laugh.

Humphrey snorted.

"Your kidding? Well, I didn't see it, all I saw was shoes"

It was at this point that whenever Amy and Robin crossed eyes, he'd laugh at the memory. Eventually, he rose to catch his breath outside, not to mention if he ran into Thomas again he'd lose it. Mid laugh, a car pulled onto the gravel and ground to a halt, the axle grinding sharply.

A small, scratched, black Ford parked a few feet from the caveman, and he stepped closer to inspect it. As the passenger side door opened, the odour hit him. Cheap beer, cigarettes and dog hair.

"Leave the engine running, Angie, just have to drop this shit off"

The voice was female, yet hoarse and somewhat battered. Deepened through years of smoking. Slurred and empty. Sullen. Devoid. The woman that rose from the passenger seat was well worn and clearly out of it, her blotchy skin and reddened face, her poorly bleached hair pulled back into an unkempt and unruly bun. Her white tank top stained with cigarette ash and alcohol stains beneath an unzipped black body warmer. Her equality stained and worn blue jeans rolled up partially to expose her black Dr Martens.

In one hand, she clutched a canned beverage. In the other, nearly slipping from her arm, a small bouquet of flowers, clearly over a day old and already wilting. She closed - scratch that - slammed the car door as she stumbled forward, rocking the vehicle. Inside the car, the other woman, who looked not too dissimilar, lit a cigarette and scrolled through her phone.

Robin watched as the woman scuffed her shoes through the gravel and almost tripped going through the door, past the threshold and into the lob-

No...

Stompy...

--

"Describe it again, Poppet. Dun'alf sound nice" Humphrey groaned, sucking on his bottom lip.

Amy indulged.

"It's like- my favourite food ever, you got no fucking idea. Bottom layer, beef in this sauce that's like- tomatoe with herbs and stuff. Pasta sheets, cream sauce and cheese on top. Bake that for a bit and then-" Amy leaned back in the sofa and sighed.

"Heaven..."

Humphrey felt like he could taste it just by that alone.

"Also I saw that sometimes you can use red wine with the tomatoe sauce... So?"

Humphrey's eyes widened.

"Can you? I'd have to try that if I could!"

"Honestly, it tastes better than I'm probably making it sound, but its-..."

Humphrey blinked as he watched Amy's face fall. She looked like she'd seen a ghost, pun excused. He watched the pink tint in her supple cheeks fade away, turning her a stark white like a corpse.

"Amy, love? You alright?... Poppet?... What's wrong?.."

His voice faded out. She couldn't hear anything but the deep thrumming of her own metaphorical pulse.

"... Mum?..."

The woman had stumbled over the the reception desk on the other side of the room, and dropped the flowers between her two hands that now rested against the edge of the desk.

"Here to put flowers down for the girl that died upstairs. I'm 'er mum" She slurred, aiding her point by gesturing towards the stairs to the right.

The receptionist gave a sympathetic nod and walked her to the stairs. He caught on that the woman was intoxicated and offered to assist her to ascend the stairs, but in typical Ruth fashion, shoved him away with her beefy arm and haphazardly climbed the stairs alone.

Just before the sound of the woman's grumbling and unsteady footsteps left Amy's ears, Robin bounded in, clutching at Amy's hand.

"Come, we go, we go-"

Amy pulled away and rose from the seat, heading swiftly yet stiffly to the stairs where the woman had climbed.

Robin glanced down at Humphrey who looked desperate for an answer.

Upstairs in the shadowy halls, Amy felt like a character in a stealth game having to stalk her target rather than go straight for the kill and alert everyone. She watched with slightly fearful eyes as her mother, about three doors distance from her, stumbled forward, occasionally leaning against the walls to steady herself. She occasionally muttered a 'fuck off', or a 'fuckin' 'ell', or a 'fuck sake', in that same old South London accent. She didn't sound remorseful or upset at all.

Amy flinched whenever a swear word left the woman's lips; Amy herself had a mouth like a sewer, but for some reason, hearing them come from her mother filled her with distain, fright and regret. The flowers which dangled from the woman's fist swayed lifelessly at her side and stray petals and leaves fluttered to the floorboards.

Finally in the East Wing, Amy paused behind a wall and looked down through the darker Hall, to the end where her Mum took one final sniff of the flowers. Surprisingly, she gently placed the wrapped flowers up against the bottom of the door. She lingered at the door for a while, staring like a dazed robot at the wood. Amy swallowed and crept from her hiding spot, remembering that her mum wouldn't be able to see her anymore.

The closer Amy got, the more she could smell it. The alcohol. No surprise there, but she remembered how much she hated it. How much of their lives had fallen into ruin because of it. The lack of money. Relying on The neighbours for food on occasion. The woman it changed her mum into. The huge rift it caused in her family. The abuse Amy suffered, fueled by that substance.

She was just a door away from her now. She could've leaned forward and touched her if she tried. If she could.

"... I'm sorry, Mum"

She wasn't sure why she'd apologize. Yet, that had always been the way; even when her mum was in the wrong, which was most of the time, Amy was always the first to apologize. To try and make amends. Just so that things could go back to normal and have her mum stop pretending like Amy wasn't even there. The woman stared for longer, her eyes blinked unevenly like a reptile and she rose the half empty can of Budweiser to her lips. She polished off the whole thing with a sneer, crushing the can in her fist.

"Mum, I-"

Ruth had turned and started to walk towards Amy, her unseeing eyes unfocused and askew. Amy jolted aside so that she wouldn't pass through her as she staggered by. Not listening. Not willing to hear another's point of view. As usual...

Amy watched, astonished and mildly heartbroken as the woman itched sharply at her tied hair and her shoulder collided roughly with the corner of the hall which lead back to the stairs out of sight. Amy was left alone with silence for a moment, before Robin peered around the corner at her, a concerned and attentive look in his eyes. In his hands he clutched Humphrey's head who gazed at her with paternal sadness.

"Stompy?... You okay?"

Don't cry. Never cry. Don't be a victim.

"Yeah" Amy said, numb.

Neither Robin or Humphrey seemed convinced. Robin opened his mouth to speak, but Amy shook her head and quickly fled from the hallway through the wall. Back downstairs in the lobby, she watched her mum pass the desk, grumble a quick farewell to the discomforted receptionist and stumble back out onto the gravel.

Amy recognised the driver. Angie. The heroin addict who lived four doors away from them back home. Amy had held a grudge on Angie for as long as she could remember; that woman always brought out the worst in her mum, convinced her to drink more, to care less, and to even try the drug that turned her into the stuttering, itching, clawing woman she is today.

The look on Angie's face was that of a woman who had been taken out of her way. Salty. As though doing this one favour had just stripped her of all her money, all her free time and all her patience. Selfish.

Ruth all but fell back into the passenger's seat and slammed the door shut behind her sloppily, tossing the empty can of booze into the back seat and turning on the radio to blast some more Pink Floyd. The gravel crunched beneath the car and flicked in every direction as Angie put the car into gear and sped away, almost taking the gate with her.

Amy watched, forlorn and lost as the day she watched her own body get wheeled away in that ambulance. She kept her eyes on the battered little car until itself, and the dust trail it had kicked up settled once more.

Numb and empty as that discarded can. Nothing left inside for now. No tears. Amy wondered why her mum had even bothered to return; she clearly didn't want to have to do this. Part of her believed that. But the other part desperately wanted to see her mum say a goodbye at least.

--

Robin approached the Amy's bedroom door and looked down on the sorry excuse for a bunch of flowers.

"They ugly. Amy prefer blue, not yellow" Robin grumbled, trying to make conversation after the ugly sight they'd just seen. Humphrey blinked in agreement.

"They do look rather battered. Almost as ugly as that washed up old lush of a mum..." Humphrey growled as he stared down at the wilting flowers, an almost fatherly vengeance in his tone.

"So this was all Amy was worth to her, was it? A dead bunch of daffodils wrapped in plastic?" Humphrey scoffed.

Robin blinked, astonished by such disregard for a child's life. Never would he ever be caught placing anything that wasn't beautiful and brimming with life on any of his baby's resting spots.

A tiny post-it-note shoved onto the shriveled plastic wrapping cause Humphrey's attention.

"Hmm. Well- we'll change that one day..."

On the note, crudely scribbled in sharpie, was a name.

'Amy Olivia Richards'