#Square: It won't be a pretty sight

[redlightofdawn]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends (Cartoon 2021) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Silco (Arcane: League of Legends)/Vander (League of Legends) Characters: Silco (Arcane: League of Legends), Vander (League of Legends) Additional Tags: getting in a fistfight because someone offended your loved one, you should see the other guy Summary:

Vander doesn't appreciate when people talk shit about Silco.

@fandom-free-bingo​

[darlingbabyboo]

Could you please make a part 3 of tr x bimbo reader with Hanma, Souya and chifuyu, please?? Have a great day or night <333

Note: I love this request! I thought ppl wouldn't like bimbo reader and I'm so happy that ppl are receiving it well :) These are such good characters too. I added a few people since I got to this late (also Hanma's is a little nsfw). Part 1 (Draken, Takemichi, Mitsuya, Baji, Smiley, Mucho) Part 2 (Kazutora, Izana, Bonten! Mikey)

"You're my angelic slut!"

♡ Even more Tokyo Revengers and their bimbo gfs ♡

Hanma Shuji

Oh my god I thought Smiley would be bad but this man would be a menace with a bimbo!gf

He lies to you on a daily basis bcs he knows that you'll believe him

He will be saying shit like 'recent studies show 🤓☝️' completely out of his ass bcs he loves the look you give him

Your bright eyes look to him, captivated with all the lies that he's feeding you

He thinks that your stupidity is hot af and the stupider you get the harder he is

Do not trust this man to help you shop bcs he will be giving you some floss as a top and and lacey underwear bottoms okay

And for my ladies who are bimbos but still like to cover up don't worry he'll give you the flashiest shit ever that probably says property of Hanma on the back

He loves you okay but be wary around this boy

"Ow babe, you know that hurts."

You eyes widen in horror, ripping your hands away from tracing the ink on his hands, "really?" You whisper.

He nods, sagely with his fake wisdom, "yeah, every few months the pain from tattoo comes back, when you touch me it hurts like a bitch."

"Oh, I- baby I didn't know!" You tear up, hating the thought of hurting Shu in any way possible, "I swear I didn't mean to hurt you!"

He nods, pulling you into his chest to calm your sniffles, "it's okay babe, you didn't know." He pretends to think, "and there might be a way to help me..."

You look at him, wide eyes looking to him and nod eagerly.

"Well... kisses always work."

"And it won't cause you pain?"

"None at all pretty girl."

"Okay!" You smile, peppering kisses on his hands, before cupping his face and pressing your lips against. He deepens the kiss, moving you so you're straddling his lap and grinding against his growing bulge.

He sure got lucky with you, huh?

Chifuyu Matsuno

He's so flustered at the sight of you

He's pretty confident in himself but he never actually expected to get a gf

Since you're his first one he kinda has no idea what to do with you

He rly doesn't want to mess things up

He doesn't even register the fact that you're 'slutty' bcs all he knows is that you're the hottest person that he's ever met in his life and he has absolutely no idea how to function without you

He worries so much but he's such a 10/10 boyfriend

Gets most of his ideas from manga but they usually get messed up because you would not get a clue if it walked up to you and gave you its number

Chifuyu will say something like, 'my heart is forever yours' and you're about call an ambulance bcs you think he's having a heart attack

Pray for him he's doing his best 🙏🏾

Certified good boi so he does his best to make you smarter but my mans is not God

He knows that you're a lost cause but he's gonna keep trying fr bcs he loves you

But he has a tendency to get distracted...

"And if 4 plus 4 is 8 and 4 times 4 is 16 then 4 squared is..." He watches you bite your lip and turn your wide eyes to him, hoping that he'll fill in the blanks.

He sighs, "baby, you're not gonna learn anything if I keep helping you."

"But 'fuyu!" You protest, throwing yourself across his lap, and jutting your lip out, "I don't get it without you explaining it for me!"

"That's the problem..."

Your pout deepens and you suddenly sit up straight. He blushes when you place your hands on the side of his face.

"I don't get it 'fuyu, more kisses pls."

He should refuse because he loves you more than the world itself but he knows that you're jackshit at math. His eyes look down at your puckered lips and he folds, moving you gently and pinning you to the bed.

When the both of you lock lips he knows nothing is going to get done today.

Souya (Angry) Kawata

We got another flustered boy here

It's made even worse bcs he was not the one who confessed to you

Smiley told you bcs he got sick of his constant ranting about how beautiful and kind and pretty you were

Angry hates his brother and loves him for it bcs you embraced him in a hug that got him feeling high for days

He worships you completely

Your slutty outfits

Perfect queen 🥰🥰🥰

He making homemade food for you for breakfast lunch and dinner

Compliments you all the time bcs that's what you deserve

Can you tell I have a favourite

He is in love with you so much and will not tolerate any sort of slander towards you

You best hope that someone doesn't call you stupid bcs they will be jumped by the entire fourth division he is not fucking around when it comes to you

He doesn't even take that shit when it comes to his brother

No one will talk bad about you under his watch

"Damn, your girl dumb as hell."

He looks to you. As of now, you're jumping up into the trees, attempting to catch a cat that got stuck up there from yesterday's storm. It's a noble attempt, if not a bit ruined due to the fact that you're ignoring the ladder of branches at the side of the tree that would help you get to the cat.

That wouldn't even be so bad if you weren't also neglecting to ask one of the neighbor's for a ladder, especially the one who has a ladder leaning against their front door.

He turns back to Smiley, scowling at the insult, "don't talk about her like that." Hands curling into fists, no matter what you do he can't stand the thought of you being disrespected.

Smiley holds his hand up, not in the mood to get his faced bashed, "fine... but you should really go help her."

He looks back to you, seeing that you've now started to meow to the cat, trying to convince it to come down by itself.

He can't stop the smile creeping up.

He's so in love with you.

Ran Haitani

You would assume that he'd be a menace but he's surprisingly sweet

Most people assume that he's with you bcs he wanted some arm candy but he's really just in love with you

Rindou is the unfortunate witness to how obsessed Ran is about you

When Ran sees you're being a dumbass all he does is smile and do his best to answer the question

He loves when his girl starts asking him how he can tell if it's AM or PM

He thinks you're too adorable

His love is not an act okay

He lives sleeps and breathes you

Half the words out of his mouth have to do with you bcs he thinks you're just so amazing

Rindou stops himself from screaming when he sees Ran leaning against the kitchen counter. The last time he caught Ran awake in the middle of the night the other had almost skinned him alive.

A Ran that just woke up from a nap was not a good Ran.

He relaxes when he sees you move to Ran's side, offering him some hot chocolate. Ran would never expose you to his violent side. "Thank you angel," He says as he accepts the drink, taking a sip and placing his arm around your waist.

"Ran..." You start, and Rindou can't wait for whatever bullshit you're going to spew this time.

"Yeah angel?"

"Why does your tattoo keep changing?"

He raises an eyebrow and looks down at his arm. Experimentally, he flexes it.

"It happened again!" You exclaim as his muscles tense, art rippling with the muscle.

Rindou has no idea how he deals with you sometimes. You're sweet, you're just... something else.

Ran doesn't react to the strange question, only offering a half-hearted shrug. He runs a hand through his hair, "I think it's because my skin stretches as I flex or something... and the tattoo is on my skin so it's affected too." He watches you, wondering if the answer is satisfactory.

You beam at the response and curl into him, placing your head on his shoulder. He presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

Rindou slinks back upstairs and tries not to throw up. He hates being around you two.

Hakkai Shiba

It's a miracle how Hakkai even started to talk to you

It was a struggle for everyone involved

Everyday Yuzuha and Mitsuya were considering jumping off a window more and more bcs every interactions you had went like this

'How are you Hakkai!'

'...'

'That's nice to hear! My day went well too, are you going to the festival tomorrow?'

'...'

Bitch is like this on the outside 😐

On the inside he's 🥰😍😘💕💓❤️

And Mitsuya and Yuzuha have to listen on like 🙃

Yeah Hakkai she is beautiful and her dress was rly nice today and she's the kindest girl in the world why don't you tell her that

His confession was so awkward but my man's had to do smth bcs he's not the only one who wants you

"H-hey," He calls your name, wincing when you direct your eyes to him. His stomach twists, he needs to do this he needs to do this.

You beam at him, "Hakkai! What's up? You don't usually talk to me like this."

Yeah, he doesn't. He's completely out of his comfort zone here. He really should have asked Taka-chan to be here to support him. He looks down to avoid making eye contact but is met with your plump thighs.

He swallows.

"A-are you going to the f-festival with Akihiko?"

You tilt your head, "no, why would you think that? Me and him are just friends!"

Akihiko has not been subtle about about talking about how attractive he's found you and how much he would love to have you as your girlfriend. This includes wrapping his arms around your waist and calling you 'wifey'.

"He flirts sometimes," You laugh, "but we're just friends."

Sure, and he just wants to kill him.

"Wouldyouliketogowithme?" He blurts out, flinching when everything is out. He watches your eyes open wide, mouth falling open. He's so embarrassed, of course this wouldn't work he should have kept his mouth shut-

"Of course I wanna go Hakkai!" He catches you as you jump up to wrap your arms around his neck. His face turns even redder when you smack a kiss on his cheek. "I'd love to!"

"C-cool." He says knowing that the this moment will be replaying in his head on the walk home.

Seishu (Inupi) Inui

Y'all are complete opposites bcs while he's off being brooding you're being your bright and sunny self giving a hug to anyone who asks

Koko wonders everyday how you two started dating but love is love

You two have the best fashion tips for each other, truly a couple that uplifts each other <333

My man treats you like you're not the dumbest bitch on Planet Earth

Inui is a feminist (when he threatened Yuzuha he did that for the women's rights movement okay)

So he knows that you have great value even if you're not smart in a conventional sense

He will pound anyone into the pavement if someone starts to act a fool okay

Inui brings knives to fist fights if you don't think he'll pull out a glock for the person he's completely obsessed with you're insane

"Inui, how do we know that we're on Earth?" You question, head tilting to the side, looking to him waiting for an answer.

He doesn't sigh, he knows you're genuine about this and he would hate to embarrass you. He raises an eyebrow for clarification.

"I mean- how do we know we're not on Mars?" You eyes bug out, "what if we've been on Venus all along and we don't even know it!"

He hums but stops when someone snickers beside them. He tenses, already reaching in his pocket. "You got something you want to say?" He snarls.

The guy, some dumb lackey, smirks, "your bitch know how stupid she is?" He looks over to you and checks you out not-so subtly, "good thing she's hot."

He pulls out the knife and presses it against the other's neck. "At first I was going to hurt you but now I'm going to fucking kill you." Who cares about the rules about in-fighting, no one's going to talk to you like that and get away with it.

"Inui..." You ask innocently, watching the two with concern.

"Look away darling, okay, I gotta deal with this piece of shit."

[lovebugism]

I positively adore steeb and shy!reader 🥹 can I please request steve comforting shy!reader after her first experience with the upside down? he just vows to take care of her?

ty for requesting!! — steve takes care of you when you won't let anyone touch you after fighting vecna (shy!fem!r, hurt/comfort, friends in love, cw for mentions of bruises/injuries, 0.9k)

Hawkins Memorial Hospital smells overwhelmingly of bleach and very faintly of copper. You think the last bit might just be you, though. The scent of metallic blood and alternate-dimension muck hasn’t quite left you — even though you’ve scrubbed yourself raw in the shower, three times over.

You sit in Max’s vacant room while she’s out for surgery. Everyone else is either sleeping off the grief or getting themselves checked out. You can’t do either — too plagued by nightmares and too frightened at what the doctors might find if they look at you too close.

Steve finds you in the dim room, lit only by natural sunlight, standing in front of the small square mirror against the wall. You get lost in the splotchy bruises on your face until he knocks gently on the cracked open door. 

“Hey…” he greets, gently to keep from startling you.

You swallow down the fleeting panic. “Oh. Hi.”

“I, uh, I brought you some ice,” he tells you and steps further into the room, waving a plastic bag of chipped ice in his hand. “I saw you flinch when you wrapped up Dustin’s ankle. I figured your shoulder was bothering you…”

He’s visibly shy, but you’re impossibly shier. The deafening quiet and the proximity of your bodies are equally suffocating. You cower beneath the weight of it, wringing your clammy, cut-up hands together. “I’m— I’m fine. Thanks…”

Steve flashes you a wavering smile, lopsided and perfectly pink. He forces a laugh through an aching chest because you haven’t talked about what happened since you got back. He figured it was normal at first — that you were still grappling with the whole fighting monsters thing, but you haven’t let anyone touch you in days. The doctors have been begging to look you over since you got here.

“I just… I wanna help,” he confesses.

A pleading look swims in the deep honey of his eyes. It becomes impossible to turn him down. You’d have an easier time fighting Vecna, you think.

You swallow hard. “It’s… It’s my back,” you shrug, then grimace when the movement makes you ache.

You’d fallen through the decrepit floor of the Creel house and landed hard in the basement. The vines slithering there broke your fall. For the most part, anyway. The damn things would have swallowed you whole if Steve hadn’t been brave enough to jump in after you. 

“Can I see?” he wonders.

You hesitate for a moment. “I haven’t really— looked at it yet,” you murmur with a pained look twisting your features. You turn around when Steve approaches you. You feel his warm fingers along your back, knuckles skimming over your skin as he lifts your shirt with a slow and gentle touch — giving you ample time to stop him if you wanted.

When you don’t, he raises the fabric to the middle of your spine. The entire canvas of your back is darkened with a hardly healing bruise. The sight of it makes him grimace. “Jeez…” he mumbles before he means to.

Your brows pinch. “Is it bad?”

“We’re gonna need a lot more ice,” he answers with a forced laugh.

You giggle at his half-joke. The pretty sound makes him smile.

“You should probably see a doctor—”

“No,” you interject with a firm shake of your head, sterner than he’s ever seen you.

“But it’s— It’s kinda gnarly—”

“I’m fine,” you insist, despite the bruises darkening your skin. You turn back around to face him and avert your gaze at the pitiful look he gives you. You cross your arms over your chest and bite back a wince. “I’m okay, Steve. There’s other people to worry about right now.”

Max, for one. And all the rest of the kids for another. And the rest of the town who lost something in the earthquakes. You got off pretty lucky, all things considered — just a couple of bruises. And a cut or two. And some pretty gnarly nightmares. But that’s it.

Steve’s lip quirks in a sympathetic smile. “Here. C’mon. Sit down.”

He urges you to the made-up hospital bed with a hand hovering over your lower back. Your perch on the side of it, one leg curled beneath you, as Steve slides in behind you. He raises the hem of your shirt and presses the icepack against your shoulder blade, where the bruises seem darkest. His touch is gentle and feather-light, almost comically so. The bag of ice just barely grazes you.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

You nod. “Yeah… Thanks.”

His hand grows heavier when his touch becomes more confident. The stinging of the cold soothes the deep ache in your shoulder.

“No problem,” he says before swallowing down the nerves crawling up his throat. “I’m always here, you know? If you ever need anything.”

You exhale a sharp laugh through your nose. “I feel like you have better things to do than take care of me,” you murmur, wringing your hands into a knot in your lap.

“Well, I don’t.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“What?” he scoffs. “That I’d rather dote on you than do anything else?”

“Yeah,” you laugh and shoot him a playful look over your shoulder. You smile when you find him already grinning at you.

“Well, believe it, alright? ‘Cause you’re stuck with me now.”

“Am I?”

“Yep,” he answers, popping the p.

“We fought monsters together, and now we’re bonded for life?”

“Exactly.”

You flash him another glance, eyes glittering as you bite back a beaming grin. “Sounds miserable,” you tease.

Steve nods with a crooked smile. “Absolutely horrible.” 

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

The Gingerbread Matchmaker

Rating: Teen? If even, but I still appreciate MDNI. Pairing: No Outbreak Joel Miller x Female Reader Words Count: 4,500 Summary: You're the owner of the struggling bakery Sweet Nothing, and you're quickly running out of money—and patience. Your town's annual gingerbread house competition is your last ditch effort to save everything you've worked so hard on. Too bad you quickly discover that you're a baker—and not a contractor. Enter, Sarah Miller, offering her dad's building skills. Warnings: fluff, Hallmark Christmas movie vibes, Sarah Miller the matchmaker, I believe in a world where Joel Miller is happy, Christmas vibes, a lot of baking, not beta read

A/N: Happy holidays everybody! This idea planted in my head a few nights ago and I just had to get this out to y'all. Thank you to @saradika for the gingerbread dividers!

Masterlist

You're a whirlwind of aprons and flour-dusted hands as you flit around Sweet Nothing Bakery, your labor of love. The display before you blooms into a colorful bouquet of cupcakes, each one baked then frosted with meticulous care.

Only you, the hopeless dreamer who has always believed that one good chocolate chip cookie can instantly improve a bad day, would decide to pack up your whole life, purchase a long-closed-down bakery sight unseen, and move to a cozy suburb outside of Austin that you’ve never even visited before.

And here you are now, your eyes flickering toward the door every few minutes. You've poured everything into this place – your savings and your dreams. The bell above the door remains silent, though.

"Maybe it's just another off day," you mumble to yourself. Your wrist twists, bringing the face of your watch into view for the third time in ten minutes.

As if on cue, the door creaks open, and your heart leaps. But it's only Mr. Bowe from the music shop next door, his gaze sweeping over the cupcakes before he offers a sympathetic smile. "Just looking at all of the pretty pastries, my dear," he says.

You nod with a practiced grin that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

"Let me know if anything tempts you," you reply, already turning back to rearrange a tray of lemon cupcakes.

"Will do," Mr. Bowe assures you, though you both know he won't. He never does. With a smile and a nod, he's gone, leaving you alone again.

Damnit. This bakery was supposed to be a beginning, not an end. You can't let it crumble in your hands.

The sun begins to set as you tally the day's earnings—or lack thereof. Your palms press against your eyes when you realize the sum total barely covers the cost of ingredients. Your shoulders slump as you count and recount, you lose every time.

With a deep sigh, you flick off the lights one by one and climb the narrow staircase to your apartment.

You’ll try again tomorrow.

The morning sun pours through the bakery's front windows. You're lining up croissants in the display case when Mr. Bowe’s kind voice catches your attention.

"Have you heard about the Gingerbread House Contest?"

Your ears perk up, and you lean closer. "No, I haven't. Tell me more."

"Well, every year, Cedar Park holds the contest right in the town square. It's quite the spectacle," he explains. “It draws quite the crowd."

"Sounds fun," you muse.

"Indeed. Last year, the winner's gingerbread house was featured in the newspaper. Gave their little shop a real boost."

You straighten up.

"Maybe I should give it a shot," you say, more to yourself than Mr. Bowe.

“I’d love to see what you come up with.”

You don your apron, your sleeves rolled up to your elbows. The familiar sound of the mixer whirring calms your nervous heart. The bakery smells of ginger, cinnamon, and allspice. For the first time in weeks, you actually feel a glimmer of hope that maybe—just maybe—you’re going to be okay.

Rolling out the first batch of gingerbread, you press shapes into the dough—walls, roofs, and tiny doors.

You've got this. Or so you tell yourself, leaning against the counter with a mug of tea while you watch the oven bake your hopes and dreams.

Your hands are steady as you lay out your tools—offset spatula, rolling pin, and piping bags. You prepare yourself to transform from a baker into an architect.

Or—so you thought—your gingerbread homes begin to resemble earthquake victims, walls crumble and roofs slide. All you can do is laugh in disbelief. You mastered croissants at the age of twelve, you knew how to make macarons before you knew how to drive. How in the hell are you failing at gingerbread houses of all things?

Determined, you eye the next batch in the oven. This time, you’ll double the icing, maybe whisper sweet nothings to the dough, and cross your fingers for good luck.

You barely notice the jingle of the front door bell over the crash of another wall meeting its demise.

"Wow, looks like a gingerbread massacre in here," a sweet voice cuts through your frustration. You glance up from your baked goods ruins and spy Sarah Miller smiling at you, curiosity lighting up her face as she surveys the scene. You straighten up, self-conscious under the gaze of your guest.

"Ah, well, it's not usually this… chaotic," you offer with a sheepish grin, trying to brush off the mess littering your workspace and apron.

Your eyes meet Joel, Sarah’s handsome dad standing just behind her. Your breath catches in your throat, a common occurrence whenever you see him in your shop, standing tall and broad-shouldered, rugged with bronzed skin. His strong jawline is dusted with stubble, his full lips sit under a well-trimmed mustache, and his eyes—a warm dark brown—crinkle at the corners as he takes in the chaos of your kitchen with a slight grin.

He runs a hand through his short, dark hair. You try not to stare at his arms, muscular and tanned. You’re left speechless again by him, your eyes roaming from his work-worn hands to the easy smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He exudes strength and capability—you feel ridiculous in your current predicament—covered in flour and crumbled gingerbread buildings.

"Looks like you could use a hand," he says, his voice is a low rumble that sends a shiver through your body.

"Or maybe a bulldozer," Sarah adds.

"Maybe so," you respond, feeling the tension ease out of your body at their lighthearted banter. “What brings you in today?"

Sarah bounces on her toes, her curls bobbing. "We’re early for my piano lesson next door and I wanted to ask you about helping with my bake sale—" She glances around at your gingerbread graveyard. "Maybe we came to the wrong place?"

You laugh, running your hand across your forehead and wincing when you realize you've just dusted it with flour. "Oh no, I promise I'm usually much more competent. It's just this gingerbread house contest has me all flustered."

Joel's eyebrows raise. "The gingerbread contest? The one being held this weekend? That's a big deal around here."

"Yep. So I've heard," you sigh. "I thought it would be a great way to get some publicity for the bakery, but…" You point helplessly at the crumbled remains of your attempts.

Sarah's eyes light up. "Dad! You could help!" She turns to you, grinning. "My dad's a contractor. He builds real houses. I bet he could help you make an awesome gingerbread house!”

You blink, surprised by Sarah's suggestion. Joel rubs the back of his neck, looking a bit sheepish. "I don't know about that, baby girl. Building gingerbread houses isn't exactly building a home."

But Sarah doesn’t back down. She turns to you, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Dad's being modest. He's amazing at building things! You should see him build LEGO!”

You look around at your kitchen, littered with the remains of your failed attempts.

“I—guess I could use the help,” you shrug, glancing over at Joel.

He hesitates, his eyes darting between you and Sarah, the internal debate playing out on his face. “I suppose I could take a look,” he sighs, a hint of a smile appearing.

“Yes!” Sarah cheers, clapping her hands together.

Relief and excitement rush through you. “Thank you,” you earnestly say. “I promise I’ll repay. Free cupcakes for life?”

He laughs a deep, warm sound. “Let’s see if I can actually help…”

Joel moves closer to inspect your gingerbread casualties, you catch the smell of his cologne—woodsy, like pine and campfires. You try to focus as he examines the graveyard of broken cookie pieces, his brow furrowing in concentration. God, he’s handsome.

"You need to think about load-bearing walls, proper supports—”

“It’s cookie dough, not concrete,” you retort with a smile.

“What if we change the shape?” Joel suggests. “Maybe something less—grand than a gigantic gingerbread mansion.”

You nod, your mind racing with possibilities of gingerbread construction.

“Ooh! I have an idea!” Sarah pipes up with excitement. “What if we made the clock tower in the town square?”

“It’s smaller, we’d need less actual structure pieces, maybe we could rely more on your decorating than building skills then?” Joel says thoughtfully.

“That’s actually… not a bad idea,” you admit, your eyes lighting up as you consider the possibilities. "I could use royal icing to make the details on the clock face," you muse.

Joel nods. "And I can help with trying to make sure it stays upright."

"Team Gingerbread!" Sarah cheers, pumping her fist in the air.

You laugh, feeling warmth spread through your chest for the first time in a quite awhile.

“So, when do we start?” Sarah asks excitedly. “Now?”

“No, baby girl,” Joel says with a chuckle. “We can’t start right now. You have your piano lesson.”

"But Dad," she whines, "this is way more important than piano!"

"How about we start tomorrow?" you suggest, glancing at Joel. "After the bakery closes? That way, I can prepare some fresh gingerbread and we can really get started."

"Sounds like a plan. What time do you close up shop?"

"Seven," you reply, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest at the thought of spending more time with him.

"Perfect," Joel says. "We'll be here."

Sarah bounces on her toes, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Can we bring anything to help?”

“Patience,” you wink.

Joel chuckles, a sound you could get used to hearing.

“Please, pick something out to take with you,” you say gesturing to the display case.

While Joel and Sarah peruse your variety of baked goods, you take the opportunity to steal glances at him. His strong profile, the gentle way he interacts with his daughter, his broad shoulders. You shake your head, trying to escape your reverie over the handsome contractor as you bag up the treats they’ve chosen.

“A chocolate chip cookie for the little lady, and a cinnamon roll for dad,” you say, handing the bag to Sarah.

"See you tomorrow! We're gonna make the best gingerbread tower ever!" Sarah says, as they turn for the door.

“I sure hope so,” you giggle at her enthusiasm.

Joel lingers for a moment at the door, his eyes meeting yours. “See you tomorrow,” his deep voice rumbles through you as he leaves.

The next day, you're up before dawn, determined to perfect your gingerbread recipe. That, and you couldn’t stop thinking about seeing Joel again.

By mid-afternoon, you've settled on the perfect blend - a dough that's sturdy enough for construction.

As closing time nears, your stomach flutters with nerves over seeing Joel again. You're just finishing up filling the piping bags with royal icing when the bell above the door chimes.

"We're here!" Sarah's voice rings out, her curls bouncing as she practically skips into the bakery. Joel follows behind, with a soft smile as he takes in the scene.

"Wow, it smells amazing in here," he says.

You lead them to the workspace. "I've got everything laid out. Shall we get started?"

Sarah claps her hands excitedly. "Let's do this!"

Joel listens intently as you explain the pieces you’ve baked for the clock tower.

"Okay, I think I see how we can make this work," Joel says, reaching for a piece of gingerbread. "We'll start with a solid base, then build up the walls using these larger pieces as supports."

You find yourself mesmerized by Joel’s hands as he begins; strong, capable, yet incredibly gentle as he handles the gingerbread.

You blink out of your focus, remembering you have a job to do—and Joel’s daughter is right next to him.

"I'll start on the decorations," you say, reaching for a piping bag filled with white royal icing.

"What can I do?" Sarah asks looking around at all of the accoutrements needed to build the tower.

You smile at her enthusiasm. "How about you sort these candies by color? We'll need them for the details later."

And just like that, the bakery feels a little less quiet, a little less empty.

As the clock ticks later, the outline of the clock tower begins to take shape.

You catch yourself staring at Joel's strong hands as he carefully places the final support beam for the clock tower. Your eyes trail up his arms, past his broad shoulders to his handsome face—where you’re startled to find him looking right back at you, his brown eyes wide as he stares into yours.

"Earth to bakers!" Sarah's voice cuts through the moment. "Are we done for tonight?"

You shake your head, clearing your thoughts. "Yes, I think that's enough for today. Tomorrow, we finish decorating," you reply, wiping your hands on your apron.

“It looks like it’s going to hold,” Joel nods, stepping back to admire your mutual handiwork before gathering his and Sarah’s things.

“Let’s hope!” Sarah says, carefully leaning in to assess a wall.

"Same time tomorrow?" Joel asks, his hand on the door.

"Wouldn't miss it," you reply, a bit too eagerly.

With one more day to go, you lean over the bakery counter, watching as Joel meticulously positions a candy cane-striped piece atop the gingerbread clock tower, using extra tenderness as he handles the delicate candy.

“Geez Dad, I haven’t seen you handle something so gently since you built that little green alien from that show you like,” Sarah quips, perched on a stool, legs swinging, her curly hair bouncing with energy. “It’s candy, not a thousand piece LEGO set.”

You stifle a laugh as you watch Joel's serious face crack into a reluctant smile.

"If only your smart mouth could decorate," he retorts, his voice low and warm.

Sarah's eyes light up mischievously, a grin spreading across her face. "Oh! I just remembered," she exclaims, hopping down from her stool. "I promised Mr. Bowe I'd help him set up his Christmas window display today. I can't believe I almost forgot!"

You and Joel exchange skeptical glances. "Since when do you help Mr. Bowe with his window?" Joel asks, raising a suspicious eyebrow.

"Since… now?" Sarah replies, already backing towards the door. "It's important to help others, right Dad? You always say that. I'm sure you two can handle the rest of the decorating without me. I think you two make a great team! If you need me, I'll be next door!"

Before either of you can protest, Sarah darts out the door, the bell jingling in her wake.

All of a sudden, the bakery feels much smaller, much more intimate, the air sits thicker between you and Joel.

You clear your throat, reaching for a piping bag filled with white icing. "Well, I guess we should keep going," you say, your voice sounding unnaturally high.

Joel nods, his fingers skimming yours as he takes the piping bag from your hand. A jolt of electricity passes between you at the contact, and you quickly pull away, knocking over a container of sprinkles in your haste.

"Oh, shoot," you mutter, dropping to your knees to clean up the mess. Joel kneels beside you, helping to gather the scattered sprinkles.

You both reach for the same pile, your fingers brushing against each other. This time though, neither of you pulls away.

You look up, meeting Joel's, brown eyes, his intense stare searching your eyes as if he’s trying to read your thoughts.

Time stands still, the smell of cinnamon, ginger, and your bakery dissipates, now all you smell is Joel’s woodsy cologne. Finally, after watching him from afar for months, separated by the bakery display case, always getting to see the small glimpses of him with his daughter and the sensitive heart he keeps buttoned up beneath his flannel shirt, he’s so close. He takes a deep breath, leaning in, closing the distance between you. Joel’s lips meet yours, gentle and tentative at first, until he cups your cheek, and you melt into him, quietly moaning at the first taste of the cinnamon and coffee on his tongue.

Your hands find their way to his broad shoulders, sinking into his warmth, steadying yourself as he wraps his strong arms around your waist and pulls you closer.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathless. Joel rests his forehead against yours. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he whispers.

“Me too,” you admit, feeling heat creep into your cheeks.

“I think my daughter may have had an ulterior motive in leaving us alone,” he chuckles.

You laugh softly. "She's a smart kid."

"Too smart for her own good sometimes," Joel agrees.

"We should probably get back to decorating," you say reluctantly.

Joel nods, standing and offering you his hand and pulling you up.

You stand shoulder to shoulder with Joel at the counter, Joel’s presence now a comforting warmth beside you, as you both reach for a frosted windowpane.

"Here, let me," he says, taking the delicate piece from you. He gently handles the sugar glass with a gentleness you’re now well aware of, and glues it to the clocktower.

“It looks great,” you say, closing the distance between Joel.

Joel’s eyes lock with yours, leaning in, his breath ghosting over your lips. Your chin tilts up, wanting to taste the sweetness of his lips again…

Suddenly, the bell above the door chimes loudly, shattering the moment. The two of you spring apart, both breathing heavily.

"I'm back!" Sarah's cheerful voice rings out. "Mr. Bowe says hi and—" She stops short, her eyes darting between you and her father, a knowing smirk spreading across her face.

Flustered, you take a step back, your elbow accidentally knocking against the edge of the table. The gingerbread clock tower wobbles precariously, and time seems to slow as you watch in horror.

But Joel is already in motion, lunging forward and reaching out to steady the creation. A collective sigh of relief fills the room as the gingerbread clock tower stands unscathed.

"Nice catch," you breathe out.

He offers a humble shrug, but the slight twinkle in his eye tells you he's pleased.

"Oh my god Dad! That was awesome!" Sarah chimes, rushing over to inspect the nearly-catastrophe. “Is it done? It looks amazing!”

“I think it is, except for one more piece,” you say, pulling out two surprise gingerbread cookies.

The first cookie is unmistakably Sarah. Her curly hair is captured by swirls of chocolate icing. Her bright brown eyes are recreated with the help of tiny candy pearl dots. Her wide smile is a perfect arc of white royal icing. You made sure to include her favorite part of green Chuck Taylors and stack of beaded bracelets.

Joel’s cookie is a little simpler, his stubble is recreated with finely crushed Oreos, his short, dark hair made with chocolate icing. He’s even complete with a tiny flannel shirt constructed with red and brown icing.

Two sets of brown eyes widen as they take in the miniature versions of themselves.

“These are incredible,” Joel says softly. “Really.”

“Well, you two are my most frequent customers, and I couldn’t have done all of this without your help,” you admit, smiling at Sarah.

Sarah beams, carefully picking up her cookie-self. "Can we put them on the tower? Like we're looking out the window or something?"

"That's a great idea," you nod, reaching for icing to secure the cookies in place.

As the three of you work together to position the two cookies just right, you feel contentment wash over you.

Just a few days ago, the bakery felt so empty and daunting. But now, as you watch Joel help Sarah put on her jacket before they both take one last look at the completed gingerbread tower, you feel hopeful for the future of the bakery—and the gingerbread competition tomorrow.

You’re tired—you barely slept last night, you yawn as you carefully load the gingerbread tower into your car, praying it survives the short drive to the town square.

The morning air is crisp as you step out of your car, waving at Joel and Sarah as they make their way towards you. Joel has a shy smile, his deep brown eyes lit with something akin to fondness as he approaches you.

“Ready?” he asks with a nod.

“As ready as I can be,” you sigh.

You and Joel carry your collective pride and joy across the town square with the help of Sarah leading the way to the competition area.

"This is it!" she exclaims, waggling her fingers in front of the table like a magician. You swallow nervously when you see the talent of your competitors.

"Wow, look at that castle," Sarah gasps. Joel doesn’t even look over, his focus remaining fixed on your shared creation, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Ours is better," he states matter-of-factly.

“You’re right,” you agree with a smile.

As the judges make their rounds, you try to calm your nerves as your foot nervously taps against the pavement and you try to catch your breath. Joel seems to sense your anxiety, taking your hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze. The warmth of his touch steadying you, silencing your self-doubt.

"Hey," he says quietly, giving your hand another reassuring squeeze. "Whatever happens, we did good."

"Thank you," you breathe out.

And then they're before you—the judges—with their scrutinizing eyes and nods of approval. You and Joel still hold hands, both of you not making an attempt to pull away. One of them leans in close, inspecting the intricate icing lattice-work that had taken you hours of painstaking focus.

"Exceptional detail," one judge comments, pointing to the two gingerbread figures of Joel and Sarah at the base of the tower.

"And the structural integrity is impressive," another judge remarks. Now, you squeeze Joel’s hand.

"Thank you," Joel says.

The judges move on. The three of you look at each other, with unspoken hopes of victory. Joel still doesn’t drop your hand.

"And now," the announcer's voice catches the crowd’s attention, "for the winners of this year's Cedar Park Gingerbread House Contest!"

A rush of adrenaline flows through your body as your heart beats against your chest. Sarah grabs your other hand, forming a chain of nervous anticipation.

"Third place goes to The Gingerbread Castle by the Carpenter family!"

You breathe out the breath you’ve been holding. Sarah bounces next to you, Joel stands still and calm next to you.

"Second place is awarded to…" the announcer pauses. "The Gingerbread Ski Lodge by the Padillas!"

Your heart pounds so hard you feel like you’re going to pass out. You try to focus on the soothing feel of Joel’s thumb stroking the back of your hand.

"And now for the grand prize winner of this year's Cedar Park Gingerbread House Contest is… The Gingerbread Clock Tower by Sweet Nothing Bakery!"

Time seems to slow down. The judge's lips move, but you can’t hear them over your heart beating. You only realize what’s happening when Sarah lets out an ear-piercing squeal and Joel's arm wraps around your waist.

Sarah jumps up and down and Joel pulls you close, planting a kiss on your cheek.

You feel like you’re floating as you walk to the stage and accept the grand prize ribbon. The crowd stares at you, cameras taking your victory photos, but all you can do is stare at Joel, a wide smile of support making his eyes disappear behind the crinkles at the sides.

As you step off the stage, you spot Mr. Bowe, who rushes over to you, his eyes twinkling with pride. “I knew you had it in you, my dear,” he says, patting your arm. “This will do wonders for you and your bakery.”

The realization hits you like a wave - you've won. Your bakery is going to be okay. More than okay, even. Tears of relief and joy prick at your eyes.

Joel notices the tears in your eyes as you rejoin him and Sarah at the table. He pulls you in for a hug. “Hey,” he says softly. "You did it. I knew you could."

You bury your face in his chest. "No, we did it," you respond, your voice muffled against the soft flannel of his shirt. "I couldn't have done this without you and Sarah."

When you pull back, you see Sarah beaming at you both, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Does this mean we get free cupcakes for life now?" she asks cheekily.

You laugh, wiping away a stray tear. "Absolutely.”

You weave through the throng of customers, carrying a tray laden with pastries. Gone are the quiet days of just you and your empty bakery. Sweet Nothing Bakery is now the bustling heart of Cedar Park’s downtown business district. Now, instead of quiet contemplation about your’s and your bakery’s future, your business is home to a line stretching out the door and a phone ringing off the hook.

You turn the OPEN sign to CLOSED, now exhausted from being busy all day, no longer overwhelmed from the worries of a failing business.

The jingle of the bell above the door interrupts your focus on counting the profits of the day, you look up and spot a familiar face.

“Long time no see,” you smile.

“It’s been a busy week for me with the holidays coming up,” he says, looking around at the empty display cases. ”Seems like your week was busier.”

He approaches the counter, it’s only been a week since you last saw him, seeing his dark brown eyes again makes you realize how much you’ve really missed him.

"I've been baking non-stop since we won the contest. I can barely keep up with demand."

Joel's lips quirk up in a half-smile. "I noticed the line when I drove by earlier.”

“I can’t thank you enough for all of your help, I couldn’t have done it without you… or Sarah.”

He smiles before cleaning his throat.

"So," he says, a hint of nervousness sounds in his voice. "I was thinking… maybe we could celebrate our victory properly? Maybe you’d like to grab dinner sometime?”

Your heart skips a beat and you can’t stop the wide grin that spreads across your face.

“I’d love that,” you reply. "But what about Sarah?"

Joel chuckles, running a hand through his hair. "Already taken care of. My brother was quite excited to learn that I finally got the nerve up to ask the cute girl from the bakery out. I think Sarah has been filling him in about everything. I think she might have been plotting this.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “She’s tenacious.”

“Tell me about it,” he nods with a grin. “So, that’s a yes?”

“Absolutely,” you respond, hope filling your heart.

[doll3tt33]

‘cause when you know you know ⊹ ࣪ ˖

Summary: As you and Colin snuggled in bed, your attention was drawn to a note peeking out from his pocket. Despite his insistence that it held no significance, his anxious and secretive behavior seemed to speak louder than his words…

Tags: fluff, fem!reader, usage of Y/N (only a couple times), an anxious Colin and an overly curious reader who overthinks a loooot

Not that I think anyone’s gonna be mean, BUT PLEASE DONT BE. I HIGHKEY FEEL INSECURE ABOUT THIS 😭😭 THE PLOT FEELS RLY JUVENILE

"Nineteen... Twenty... Twenty-one! Twenty-one cute lil' freckles on your body, from head to toe," Colin declared triumphantly.

"Are you done yet, ya big doofus?" You rolled your eyes, giving Colin a playful shove. Colin, also known as the "idiot big spoon on your bed," wouldn't stop pestering you or your bare flesh.

"Uh, no? I didn't count for nothing. You know what I'm gonna do next?"

"I shudder to think! But please, do enlighten me," you replied in an airy tone, though curiosity shone through your feigned exasperation.

Seeing every subtle change in your expression was Colin's special talent, one he took pride in. As he gazed at you now, his face broke into that familiar, dorky grin you found so endearing.

His finger traced over the freckle on your shoulder. "I'm gonna kiss each of those lovely freckles on your equally lovely body... twenty-one times. Now c'mere!" he exclaimed, beckoning you closer. "Lemme shower my beautiful girl with some good ol' fashioned affection!"

Before you could protest, Colin swept you into his arms, holding you close against his warm chest. Soft giggles escaped as his lips began to tenderly graze each freckle, starting at your cheek and trailing lower. You squirmed in his grasp, half-heartedly attempting to twist away from his affectionate assault even as another peal of laughter bubbled up.

Undeterred by your token resistance, Colin continued peppering gentle kisses over your skin. His smile pressed against the mole on your neck, then lower to your shoulder and chest.

While Colin had you pinned beneath him, giggling and squirming, you spied a corner of paper protruding from his jeans pocket. Seizing the chance, you snatched it up while his hands were otherwise occupied.

"Ooooh... well well, what do we have here, detective?" you teased, waving the paper tauntingly. "Looks like I've found myself a clue! Hm... I wonder what mysteries it holds."

Colin instantly realized his blunder and made a swipe for the paper, but you held it out of reach. "Could it be a top-secret case file? Or... the numbers to your credit card? Really hope it’s the latter."

His eyes went round as saucers at the sight of the stolen paper in your grasp. In a flash, he snatched it back, hastily stuffing it deep down into his pocket.

"Nothing!- It's nothing, really," he said a little too quickly, his eyes darting about nervously. "Jus’ an old scrap from work is all, absolutely nothing to see here.”

But Colin knew you too well to be dissuaded so easily. The spark of intrigue in your gaze was fixed squarely upon the pocket concealing a supposed "old scrap." He recognized that look—once your curiosity was piqued, nothing could satisfy it but the truth.

"Nah, that definitely looks like something to me," you replied, your eyes still fixed on the hidden paper.

Colin chuckled nervously. "No. Don’t you dare start now. Just do me a favor and turn those pretty lil' eyes of yours away, 'kay?"

He even attempted to gently guide your head in the opposite direction with his hand, but your determination was unyielding. You refused to budge, still staring and now pouting. "Hey, don't push my head around! Just show me, please, Col? Pretty please?"

"Hm... pretty please, huh?" Colin pretended to ponder, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Yeah, sorry, still no."

"Pretty please with a cherry on top?"

"No."

"With two cherries on top? Three cherries and whipped cream?"

"Y/N. No. A gazillion cherries on top won't cut it. Seriously, there's nothing on that stupid piece of paper!" Colin insisted with a chuckle, raising his hands in mock surrender.

You weren't convinced, noting the telltale signs that said otherwise - his overly casual tone, the tightness at the corners of his smile, the fidgeting fingers now plucking at a loose thread on the blanket. You could smell a load of bullshit right in this very bed. Colin had many strengths, but lying was definitely not one of them.

"Hm."

Your eyes narrowed into slits, harboring great suspicion at your nervous wreck of a boyfriend beside you. You leaned in closer, and he shrank back just as quickly, as if he were afraid you could smell the truth out of him.

"You're acting oddly suspicious," you observed. "Is it me, or do I feel like you're lying big time right now?"

Colin waved his hands as if to ward you off. "Woah woah, easy there now! I'm not lyin’. Can we just drop this now, please?" His voice pitched higher in a tell-tale sign of nerves.

You let out a whine. "But I know you're lying. Just tell me the truth already. I'm dying over here!"

"No, I won't. 'Cause like I said, I'm not lyin'!" Like he would actually tell the truth. You could practically see the sweat glistening on Colin's forehead. This man had a knack for getting incredibly anxious when faced with confrontation. Seeing him like this, a new emotion began to overshadow your initial eagerness to uncover the truth - fear. It crept up from the depths of your stomach, intensifying with each passing moment. A multitude of "what-ifs" swirled in your mind, ideas bouncing off the walls of your hyperactive brain, all trying to decipher what on earth could your boyfriend be hiding on that piece of paper.

As Colin fidgeted nervously, your mind raced through possibilities for what the paper contained. The most plausible - and worrying - scenario was another woman’s number. If that was the case, why didn’t he just come clean and tell you? He had always been open and honest with you about everything. Plus, there had never ever been a reason to doubt his unwavering loyalty... well, until now.

Lost in thought, you barely noticed Colin waving a hand in front of your face. "Earth to Y/N? You still with me?" he asked gently, peering at you with concern.

Lifting your head up to meet his worried gaze, there was a mix of confusion and disbelief evident in your eyes as you prepared to utter the words you never thought you'd say.

"That piece of paper... does it happen to have some lady's phone number written on it?"

"You can be honest, I promise I won't get mad," you assured, mentally bracing yourself to be hit with whatever response awaited.

“Huh?”

Your assumption clearly took Colin by surprise. Instead of the guilt-ridden glimmer you anticipated in his eyes, you were met with a face of sheer astonishment. Frantically shaking his head, he hurried closer to you on the bed, gently taking your hands in his.

"No nonononono- not the case at all! Not even close, I swear to God. It's just I-... um," he protested urgently, meeting your gaze with an intensity aimed at conveying his sincerity. Relief softened your smile, allowing him to continue.

"No lady gave me her phone number. All the paper has on it is... something I wrote. For you." A touch of pink rose in his cheeks as he dropped his eyes shyly. "A silly, overly sentimental thing that is, well, cheesy. And I mean really cheesy."

Your expression twisted to one tinged with guilt as you realized the weight of your relentless probing, falsely assuming Colin's disloyalty. Furrowing your brow, you directed an apologetic gaze in his direction.

"Shit, I'm sorry Col. I didn't mean to jump to conclusions like that. But honestly, you don't have to hide anything from me, no matter how silly you think it is."

"And hey, I'm a sucker for cheese!" you added playfully, giving his arm an affectionate squeeze. "So whatever sappy words you wrote, I promise not to tease - much."

You graced him with a fond smile, hoping to ease his nerves. Colin swallowed hard, visibly steeling himself before digging back up the crumpled-up paper from his pocket. His shoulders lost some of their tension as he smoothed it out, lips quirking up at his own words.

"Oh boy... you asked for it. You're gonna be on a ride to cheese-land supreme with this one."

After a brief moment of silence, he took a steady breath, breaking the stillness in the air. He sat up straight, preparing himself.

"Alright, here goes..." He cleared his throat softly before reading.

"Dear Y/N... I know I should be focused on our latest case, but try as I might, I really cannot get a certain beautiful someone out of my head," he began, lips curling up as he skimmed his words.

"So here I sit, scribbling these sappy words on this flimsy piece of paper like a schoolboy, instead of working as I should. Terrible form, I know." At his own joke within, Colin let out a quiet chuckle and glanced up to gauge your reaction. Finding only fondness and encouragement, he relaxed enough to continue baring his heart through the silly note he'd written.

"I know my work can keep me away too long, and that you feel neglected at times. But please believe that you are always in my thoughts."

He risked a playful glance your way. "Even when you always find a way to talk my ear off or sprawl out to take up the whole couch, you still are.”

He continued, his voice growing softer. "But your quirks could never outweigh all my favorite little things about you, because I love you. I truly do.

Just like how I love that your smile and dimples are the first thing I notice when you step into the room.

Or how I love that your eyes light up at the mere mention of chocolate ice cream, and you'd beg me to buy you some even when you're full.

How I love that your brows crinkle when you think too hard and too long about something.

And how I love that you're the first person I think of waking up in the morning, and the last person I think of going to sleep.

You made me realize that when you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."

You weren't expecting that, you truly weren't. Colin's heartfelt words truly touched you. As the first happy tears slipped free, you couldn't help but embrace him tightly.

Though startled at first, he quickly melted into your arms, ever your safe harbor. His familiar, comforting touch - a hand stroking your back, lips pressing softly to your forehead - undid you completely.

"Aw shucks, don't cry on me now," he soothed gently. But you could only burrow closer, overcome by gratitude and love for this man. He understood you so perfectly, from your quirks to your heart.

"Those better be tears from happiness and not tears from how god-awful that was," Colin laughed warmly as he wiped the last of your tears.

"No, it wasn't bad at all. For real."

"For-real for-real?"

"Well, okay, it was a tiiiny bit cheesy. But from the heart, which is what matters."

"Annnd if I detected a certain scene or two borrowed from 'When Harry Met Sally', who am I to judge?" You teased.

Colin gave an exaggerated sigh. "Alright, alright, you caught me copying shamelessly." His eyes were warm as he tucked an errant lock of hair behind your ear.

"But I meant every word, cheesy or not. Now c'mere you." Pulling you close once more, he pressed a tender kiss to your lips. His words, however awfully cheesy (and a bit unoriginal) they may be, had completely warmed your heart nonetheless.

author’s note:

This feels kinda cringe, I honestly have no idea what I was doing with this tbh 😭 I’m on my period so I kinda got into the feels, then I saw that one scene from ‘When Harry met Sally’, and thought it’d be a good idea to write a fic

In all honesty, I just wanted an excuse to write about Colin, and perhaps strengthen my writing skills ((still mostly because of Colin tho

divider credit: @/vg-k

[enviedear]

omg maybe some fluff/angst abt billy being protective. like maybe gf/wife!reader is getting hit on and she can normally protect herself but maybe some guy gets a little too handsy with her and then billy steps in to protect his baby:(( i think i would actually die

protective!billy bonney...

babe i'm always down for protective!billy, because he's just intrinsically protective. and that's hot.

tw— violence, a bullet graze (not billy or reader), men being mysogonistic (this is the wild west idk what to tell ya), unwanted touch (on the waist, no private areas)

request

it'd been a long day already, and the sun hadn't even struck noon. rowdy ranch hands, drunkards, and gang members littered the town square. their minds hazy from drink, worsened by the hot sun.

it was a day of celebration, according to them. the lot of them managed to wrangle up a pack of wild coyotes the night before, the same pack that'd been laying waste to everyone's animals and supplies.

it was a gruesome yet necessary job, but the parlay in town has your ears steaming. they've already ruined an innocent game of catch the local kids had been playing and you roll your eyes when they start to approach you and the rest of the ladies standing outside the dress shop.

you avert your gaze, looking into the crowd for your fiancee. with no sight of billy, who's probably held up at the general store, you focus in on your dusty boots. you'd rather stare at them than the haughty men on their rampage.

"ain't you billy's little thing?" a gruff voice calls out.

you lift your head to find a impish man with tufts of blonde hair, "yes sir, that'd be me." your tone is kind, but your words clipped.

the man draws closer, spitting to his left before giving you a drunken snd sly smirk, "got himself a pretty one, ain't he?"

his question is redundant, and you opt not to answer. instead you give him a smile, slowly backing away and inching toward the entrance of the shop.

the women around you won't be any help, too worried with fending off the other rambunctious men. you're going to have to get yourself out of this one.

the man continues his pursuit of you, "gimme your name, girl. m'bettin' it's real nice."

your fingers find the doorknob behind you but your eyes widen when the door refuses to budge. damn shopkeeper, locking up when you need a safe haven most.

"i'm sorry, sir, my fiancee must be looking for me." your excuse is lame, but you pray it works.

the man steps closer, his hand reaching out to grab your arm. you flinch away, but he manages to grip you tightly anyway.

"come on now, don't be shy," he slurs, pulling you towards him. "what's your name, pretty thing?"

you struggle against his grip, but he's too strong. panic sets in as you realize there's no one around to help you, and you start to fear the worst.

"you need to let go o'me. my fiancee will kill you." you've grown desperate, enough so to lay your strongest card on the table— billy.

the man let out a hearty laugh, "fiancee? ain't no man gonna tie you down, little lady. not till you've had a taste of a real man."

you grow angrier by the second, but you can't help but laugh at his ignorance, "i think that's you giving yourself too much credit, sir," you reply, your voice dripping with sarcasm, "i' got myself a real man, the man i love. now if you don't let me go, you'll be sorry."

the man grows more forceful, pinning you to him, breath brushing your ear and hands groping your waist, "do you well to learn to shut you mouth, girl."

but just as you're about to give up hope, frozen in fear as the man trails his hands over you, a gunshot rings out, piercing the air like a sharp knife.

the man releases you, his face contorting in pain as he clutches at his leg. you inspect the wound as he falls away, just a graze, but you're sure it hurts like hell.

you turn away from the drunk, eyes finiding billy only yards away, his revolver still smoking in his hand. his face is cold and hard, his eyes blazing with anger.

"you heard the lady," billy speaks with a low and menacing voice. "i don't want to kill you, but if i so much as see you touch her again, you'll regret it."

the other men back away, pulling their injured friend with them, fear written all over their faces. they know better than to mess with billy, especially when he's in a foul mood.

you rush towards him, throwing your arms around his neck. his embrace is tight and fierce, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

"you okay?" he asks, his voice softening as he looks down at you.

you nod, voice shakey, "i am now," you whisper, feeling safe in his arms.

together, you walk away from the chaos of the town square, grateful for the love and protection you've found in each other.

—reblog and like if you enjoyed, let ur local writer know you like her work !

[kiiwiigii]

Abandoned

Demetri x Fem!Reader

Summary: Going to Italy over spring break was not what you had in mind, but Bella said she needed you. Until she didn't anymore, leaving you in the hands of a handsome vampire, who happens to be your mate.

Warnings:

Angst

Bella and the Cullens suck. (Ha ha. I'm so funny.)

Word Count: 1500+

Requested?: Yes!

heya thanks for answering my earlier ask about requests! Could I please request a demetri x reader angsty with fluff where they meet in new moon as reader tags along with bella to help and demtri is drawn to her cause theyre mates and volturi agree to let bella go and be turned later if the reader stays and reader is hurt that edward, bella and even alice agree to it so quickly so she feels abandoned and demetri works to earn her trust and comforts her about it at a later date? (If its too much or you end up tweaking it thats okay!!) <3

A/N: What kind of Volturi fic writer would I didn't do this trope? And for once it's not Alec-centric. I love it! Also, this is gonna be a two-parter.

I hated flying with a burning passion. But Bella insisted that I go with her for emotional support. I almost snapped at her to take Jacob instead. Emotional support animals were free after all. She just needed the paperwork.

Unfortunately, I don't think a big-ass werewolf-slash-shapeshifter would go over well if they were to accidentally transform. Bella was lucky that I even had a passport. In the end, it was Alice who convinced me, definitely playing the loyalty card pretty heavily. If only I had known that loyalty was not extended to me.

Italy was beautiful, but between the sweet relief of landing, Alice stealing a car, and getting caught up in the whirlwind that was the St. Marcus festival, I had barely any time to take it all in. The city was awash with hundreds of people, their red cloaks swirling about as they danced and celebrated.

Bella was diving out the car, screaming Edward's name. I dove into the crowds to follow her, making my way through the throngs of red cloaks to find her. It didn't take long before I was hopelessly lost. What had Alice said? Edward was going to reveal himself. What exactly would happen if he did? That was one thing I had never managed to get out of Bella.

Would he just… spontaneously combust?

No. That made no sense, he never would have come to the Volturi for death if that happened.

But where was the best place to do it?

I looked around desperately before my eyes landed on the clock tower in the center of the square. There. That was the prefect place. I pushed through the crowds, yelling Bella's name at the top of my lungs.

Demetri

"BELLA!"

He turned at the sound, and his dead heart seemed to beat for just a moment. Her voice sounded like heaven. Demetri scanned the square, eyes searching, desperate with hope that maybe, just maybe, she might be who he thought she was.

"Bella!'

It was closer this time, and through a break in the crowds he saw her. Time seemed to slow down as he took in the sight of her. She was by the clock tower, her chest rising and falling with the effort to breathe, as if she had just run a long distance. And given the beads of sweat along her brow and the trickles that dripped down her tantalizing neck, she had.

She was stunning. Beautiful. And more than everything that he had ever hoped for.

The other girl in front of him, Bella, turned around in both alarm and relief.

"Bella," Edward said softly. "Relax. He won't harm her."

"Demetri?" Felix asked, voice heavy with confusion.

"Stay with our… guests, Felix."

Demetri was next to the girl in the blink of an eye, stepping into her line of sight a moment later. She jerked back in alarm before making eye contact with him. And it happened. His whole world seemed to turn upside down. He grinned. She was his.

"Hello, principessa." He lifted her warm hands to his cold lips, enjoying the subtle taste of her skin. "I am Demetri. I will escort you to your friends. If you will follow me."

She raised a disbelieving brow at him, taking him in before landing on his eyes. She gulped a little and nodded her head. He held out his arm for her to take, and after a moments hesitation, she did so.

Upon arriving at the alleyway in which the others stood, his mate let go and hugged Bella tightly.

"You're alright." She breathed, her perfect voice hushed.

"I'm alright, Y/N."

"Good to have you back." It was Jane. "Aro has been wondering what has been taking so long. Let us continue."

He put a hand on his mates back, urging her forward silently.

Demetri found that he no longer cared what would happen with Cullen and his human, not so long as his mate stayed.

I was a moron.

Despite the seriously fucked up and dangerous situation that Bella had somehow pulled me into, I couldn’t help but blush as I felt this stranger's hand on my lower back.

'Demetri. His name is Demetri, Y/N.'

The gesture felt oddly warm and comforting. He felt oddly warm and comforting.

And I liked it. But also I didn't like it. He was making me feel all funny and I honestly didn't know what to do about it.

I glanced back at him, only to find him already looking at me, something akin to wonder in his eyes. He gave me a small smile and I turned back around, blushing harder. I liked that smile. A lot. I shook my head, following behind Edward and Bella, doing my best to not trip.

I had bigger things to worry about. Such as getting out of this situation alive. Alice had neglected to tell me much of anything, and I had only caught snippets of her conversation with Bella on the plane. All I knew was that the Volturi laid down the law, and they were not to be fucked with. I suddenly wished I had paid more attention instead of worrying about the death trap that was called a plane.

I grabbed Alice's hand, my anxiety spiking. She gave my hand a small squeeze, sending me another smile. But something was off. She wouldn't look me in the eye. In fact I couldn't recall her looking me in the eye since we had boarded the plane to Italy. And outside of his initial surprise to see me, neither had Edward. I frowned at the sudden realization, slowing down a moment and pulling my hand from hers. Demetri slowed down as well, gently pressing on my back for me to continue, but I stayed rooted in the spot.

"What are you hiding?" My voice cracked. "What did you see?"

Alice looked back at me, surprised.

"Now is not the time, Y/N." Demetri's lips brushed against my ear.

I really liked the way he said my name.

"Indeed." Jane turned around, her face blank.

Demetri tensed, angling himself so that I was out of Jane's eyesight.

"Do not worry, Demetri. I have no intent to harm your mate... As long as she keeps up."

She was so blasé about the whole thing that it took a minute for me to register what she said. Mate? I had a mate? Mates were a thing?

Demetri hissed at her and everyone edged away from the two of them, looking at Demetri as if he were a dead man. Jane just smiled.

"Let us continue. Demetri, do keep your human in line."

I wondered if my brain had just stopped working at that point because I would have normally said something back, but I couldn't bring myself to do much of anything. Demetri turned back around, looking at me as one would a spooked animal. And I was pretty close to a spooked animal. I was starting to hyperventilate, and I definitely wanted to run, but I couldn't get my legs to work.

"Y/N." He reached out, clasping both of my arms lightly. "I'm sorry. I didn't want you to find out this way, but we really must keep going."

I nodded, numb. Alice knew. How long had she known? And Edward hadn't bothered to say a damn thing to me either. Why? They couldn't bother to prepare me for this? I have a fucking mate. That's not something you can just shove under the rug. And Jane. Fucking Jane-

Demetri's hand slid into my own, the coolness of his skin breaking me out of my haze just enough to keep moving forward. I could feel myself beginning to shut down and disassociate, auto-pilot taking over. I could feel his thumb rubbing circles softly on the palm of my hand and decided to focus on that instead.

Jane pushed the heavy double doors in front of us open.

My brain refused to shut off, memories of the last 24 hours replaying repeatedly in my head.

Bella had been released under two conditions:

She was to be turned within the year.

I was to stay here, to be with my mate.

I didn't have a choice, not that it really mattered, because I would have given myself up in a heartbeat for Bella. But they had taken the deal with barely a thought. Even Bella. That's when I realized that she knew. She had known the whole time. And Alice. I kept thinking about how she had worked so hard to convince me to come. To be Bella's emotional support. I wasn't there to be her emotional support. I was there to be traded, like some dog. And it hurt.

I had lost everything.

My friends. My home. My family.

I would never see my mother again. My father had passed a little over a year ago to cancer, so my mother and I were already in the practice of mourning. But my mom, not only had she lost my dad, but now she would think I was dead too. How would she cope?

How was I going to cope? How could I ever trust anyone again? Bella and the Cullens had taken advantage of me. Of my love. My loyalty.

I wouldn't let it happen again. Never.

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[sleeepybeary]

☆ 𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐊 ☆

𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓: Having experienced an onslaught of poor luck for the majority of your day, you place a playful blame upon your girlfriend.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: small amount of blood, maybe a spelling mistake or two ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 850

The day had started off on the wrong side of the bed for you; evident in the countless unfortunate encounters you had to endure so far today.

Starting off your morning, you had climbed from the warmth and security of your bed, and in a drowsy fit to navigate around your house, a brain quaking discovery was to be found in the way you had smacked your forehead upon the corner of a door frame; resulting in a small concussion.

Another incident was to be landmarked at the moment you had tripped over Eve, your new and extremely beloved feline friend.

And now, misfortune was guiding itself around the bend of time to find you yet again as pain was destined to be inflicted upon you at the expense of your dignity.

You were crouched low to the ground, hands working needlessly at the plants you regularly maintained on a Monday evening, alongside your girlfriend.

It was one of the few activities you actually enjoyed spending time together doing. With Agatha finding entertainment within her witchcraft and harmless pranks on the village folk, you preferred the indulgence of a calming book.

You were two peas from different pods.

However, with every hobby comes a danger of some sort - and with your unrelenting streak of bad luck so far - it was only bound for your finger to bend backwards in a deep rooted surge of pain; figuratively speaking.

Humming along to some old music you had heard from a bard back in the village square a few weeks ago, your fingers ran along the slim stem to your roses. Tracing the slight curve of each one, dented from the constant breeze of wind, your finger skipped along the point to a thorn, caressing and sinking onto its tip.

Letting out a small yelp, you pull your finger away, pressing the wound against the palm of your other hand, squeezing it as to apply pressure and ease the sense of pain in slight pockets.

“You okay there, my love?” Agatha's head had popped up from somewhere beyond a small bouquet of de-thorned roses, her eyes doe-like as she looked on in a flash of concern.

Nodding slightly, your lips part, “yeah… I just pricked myself, that's all”

Agatha’s voice had a questioning undertone as she requested to see, scooting closer in an effort to gain a better sight as she tugged your finger back out and into the open air.

Holding your mouth at a gated lock, you watched the way she observed the way you bled slightly. “It's such a small cut, love” she commented, softly smiling up at you as her fingertips ghosted at either side of your wounded index finger. “...so this won't hurt too much”

“What-”

Your eyes involuntarily squinted as a newfound pressure was added upon your injury, intensifying the once faint sting. However, before you could pull away from the pinch of your lover, your eyes settled on the way she stared at your newfound bleeding.

Her eyes sparkled slightly in a wave of mischief at how the small puncture had produced a growing effort to unwillingly bleed against her grasp, how a small droplet had sprawled to a small stream against the ridged curve of your skin.

“Is that necessary?” You mumbled, a frown flipping all other expressions away as it nestled into your care.

“No?” she grins, raising your finger and pressing it against her tongue, dragging the moistened muscle against you.

It was an unsettling feeling, the way her tongue caressed over the reddened liquid and smeared along the length of its flattened state. Though, you couldn't deny the blossoming of heat within your chest - or how butterflies occupy your stomach in a flurry of fluttering tornadoes and warming embraces.

“It's not necessary, but it's what I want”

“You're insufferable” you had groaned, pulling your hand back into your own hold. “you know - I'm pretty sure you're causing me bad luck today”

“Wait-” Agatha’s grin had expanded, a small chuckle leaving her lips. “-you can't seriously be blaming me for that prick?”

Pursing your lips slightly, you glance away, your eyebrows hanging in a certain distaste. “I… I am”

“Wow… I didn't know you could be so stereotypical”

“I'm just saying” your eyes flickered back over to Agatha, finding her grin still fixed upon her face. “Call it a superstition”

“How can I undo this ‘superstition’ then?”

Letting a deep hum erupt from within your throat, you go to speak, “a kiss?”

“True loves kiss will break the curse, huh?”

“Exactly” you click your fingers together - avoiding using your still bleeding finger in the process.

Agatha could only sigh drastically, leaning forward as her hand moved to cup your jaw tenderly. “If it's what must be done, then who am I to object?”

She had wasted little time in bringing her face closer to yours, puckering her lips to cushion the small collision between her own and yours. It wasn't a long kiss by any means, but it sufficed. It served its purpose, and it ultimately left you slightly flustered.

“Then you'd be one cruel woman, dear”

[iamjacksragingboner]

Gross Childhood Best Friend Soap

Word Count: 1.6K

Alternate Endings Here

Warnings: The tiniest smidgen of angst but it ends nice so you better not complain, not super proofread

A/N: Yeah I dunno, came up with this last night and just crammed it out today in a sort of word diarrhea in which I blacked out and woke up naked and alone in the middle of the bush with this on my laptop screen. Make of that what you will

Contrary to his callsign, Soap is, and always has been, a gross little goober of a man

He’s been gross since you were kids, going digging for worms, collecting hermit crabs to take home from the beach in his pockets, rolling around in the dirt and coming home tracking mud on the carpet. Of course, it wasn’t all bad. He’d always offer to kiss your scrapes and bruises better, even if they were bloody or muddy. He’d always find pretty seashells to give you amidst his hunt for the largest hermit crab. He was gross within reason.

You had many a fond memory of going off to the creek at the back of your neighbouring houses with him. You'd climb up to what felt like perilous heights in your child minds, to sit on the highest point of the creek. From there, you would watch as Johnny dug for the perfect stones for you both to skim, watch him build dams and change the currents of the water. Watch as he would lunge at bugs, fish, tadpoles, lizards, and present them up to you from below, the squirming creatures clutched in his mud covered hands.

At the end of the day, just before your parents would call you back home for dinner, Johnny would climb up on the rock with you, just to sit and hold your hand. If he was feeling particularly bold, he would plant a kiss on your hand, and tell you he was going to marry you one day. You called him gross for that too, but latched onto the idea all the same.

Your early teen years, where puberty had begun for the both of you, was plagued with a myriad of varying smells and odours. Forget sweating like a pig, Johnny sweat like a boar; walking home from school with him after P.E. was a nightmare for your nasal cavities. You didn't mind though, he made good enough conversation that you ended up getting used to the stink.

For the amount of afternoons you spent in his room, you'd think you would eventually get used to the sight of his dirty clothes and mugs littering his floor and desk. You never did, always scolding him for not keeping his room clean knowing he had a lady coming over. He would always laugh, even as you threw his pillow at him, copping it square in the face.

So many nights were spent laying side by side in his bed, talking late into the night, curious hands too scared to do more than brush pinkies with the other laying inches away. You always felt as though you could feel him staring at you in the quieter moments of those nights, but you never caught him.

You spent your later teen years feeling bitterly towards him. You went from thinking you'd be best friends forever, to being an afterthought for Johnny. You did try, of course, to keep close to him.

In his late teen years, Johnny was gross in the sense that he’d go off to parties just to see how many people he could make out with. Would have sex with anyone who offered, just for the hell of it. Accompanying him to parties was a nightmare.

"You promise you won't abandon me this time?" You found yourself asking this more than once, each time slightly less optimistic than the last, but never losing your faith in him.

"Of course not, lass," he would always say. "Yer ma' girl! I'll stick right by yer side this time, lass. I promise."

What shallow promises they were. You were always demoted to the third wheel, the one who held the drinks while he went off to flirt with someone new he hadn't fucked yet. You found yourself leaving early and alone most nights, walking home and hugging your sides to keep yourself from falling apart, kicking stones imagining they were Johnny's face. Cursing yourself for thinking this time would be different, and that maybe he'd look at you for once. Going to bed cold and bitter, knowing just next door, Johnny would be waking up with someone else next to him in his bed. You just hoped he remembered to keep his room clean for them.

You both graduated, with Johnny leaving to join the military and you leaving to go to university. You kept in scarce contact over the years, occasionally calling to catch up, Johnny telling you where he was stationed, you telling him what you were working on at uni, apologising for missing birthdays, missing holidays, promises to call again soon, promising to catch up when he's home, all shallow. At least, that's what it felt like to you.

Until one night, when you were out at a bar with you friends, celebrating your recent graduation. You were all discussing with great vigour what you would all get up to with your newfound freedom from studies, when you felt the familiar feeling of eyes boring holes into the back of your skull. A little unsettled, you took a look around the bar, trying to see who could possibly be staring at you so intensely, but you couldn't quite catch their eye. You sipped at your drink, a frown furrowing your brows for a moment, before you brushed the feeling off altogether.

An hour passed and you'd forgotten the feeling in the haze of the alcohol. You were ordering yourself another drink, and as you reached into your wallet to grab out your card, another hand swooped in front of you to pay for your drink. You looked up, startled, before you met his gaze. Johnny. Staring down at you with a smile that could melt glaciers.

"Johnny, you didn't tell me you were in town," you murmured, eyes greedily taking in as much of him as you could in this moment of reunion. Scars on his chin covering the one he got from splitting his chin riding a bike for the first time. Stubble covering his jaw. The corniest mohawk that he had always talked about getting, sitting on top of his head. Your face flushed beet red when your eyes dragged over his built form; apparently that childhood crush you'd had on him all those years ago hadn't quite faded as much as you'd thought it had.

"You didn't tell me you'd graduated university, lass," he replied, the sound of his voice—finally in person again and not over the phone—sending shivers down your spine. "Had to find out myself from yer mum."

You hid your guilt behind the drink you tipped back into your mouth, averting your gaze as he watched you with dark eyes. "Thanks for the drink," you breathed, and he laughed.

"Don't even mention it, 's the least I can do. Why don't we go sit down somewhere 'n catch up, aye? Come on, lass."

You found yourself being guided over to a booth, Johnny's hand on the small of your back, sending ripples of warmth through you and into places the alcohol couldn't quite reach. You sat down first, with Johnny shuffling in close beside you, your shoulders brushing, electricity coursing through your veins.

As you sat and spoke, catching up on what you've missed in each other's lives, you found yourself noticing something. Johnny was using all the moves he used to use on people he fancied in high school, the ones he used to get them all flustered, to get in their pants.

You had to admit, you could see why so many people slept with him; he was charismatic as all hell, that boyish charm spawning those all too familiar butterflies in your gut, and he was quite literally always in contact with you. Whether it be the arm resting behind you on the seat of the booth, his knee gently nudging yours beneath the table, or a hand tucking a hair behind your ear, it seemed Johnny had turned the charm up to the max.

It was nice to be on the receiving end of it for once, but there was a certain bitterness that still lingered behind like a foul taste in the back of your throat. Was this just meaningless flirting to him, were you just another girl on his list to fuck and be done with? With all the alcohol in your system, you were well and truly past the point of caring, but you knew that if you woke up tomorrow morning in an empty bed you'd not only be cursing him, but yourself as well.

You let him lean in closer, tracing a finger down your cheek, and you let yourself be giddy, blushing like a schoolgirl when he winked at you. You let yourself swoon when he kissed you, cradling your face in his calloused palms. You let him take you back to his parent's place, nestled just next to your own home. You let him take you upstairs and into his room, holding your hand and shushing you when you both laughed a little too loud.

You let yourself feel like teens once more as you stumbled into that all too familiar room, hit with the smell of Johnny, the smell of home. You felt guilty, ashamed, as you let yourself savour the taste of him, the feeling of his naked body pressed against yours, his hands raking along your body as if you'd disappear if he let go. You let yourself fall asleep in his arms, smiling as he carded his fingers through your hair and pressed kisses to your scalp, whispering incoherent things into your skin.

You awoke the next morning, expecting to find Johnny's bed empty. But it wasn't. And neither was it the next morning, or the morning after that. In fact, the pair of you spent a lot of time waking up together.

This is where you find yourself now, lying in the early morning light in Johnny's bed, the man in question sprawled out next to you, snoring with his mouth wide open, drool leaking on his pillow.

"Gross," you murmur to yourself with a fond smile, tucking yourself into his side and closing your eyes once more.

[sorchathered]

Sweet Home Texas pt 1.

Summary- it’s here! Chapter one of my new series/ my submission for my birthday Rom-Com challenge! I am straying from the plot of Sweet Home Alabama a bit but I hope you all love it!

Pairing-Jake “Hangman” Seresin x oc (Ella Mcree Seresin), Bradley Bradshaw x oc (Ella Mcree Seresin)

Warnings- language, drinking, eventual smut

Stepping out of her shitty rental car into the dimly lit honky tonk parking lot Ella Mccree can already feel the pain of a headache forming behind her eyes. She flew out from San Diego on a red eye to get to this shithole, filled with enough anger to fly the damn plane herself. She swore when she was here the last time that she would never set foot in this damn town again and yet here she is, pushing through the sweaty bodies of horn dog cowboys and navy pilots to find the bane of her existence.

He’s here of course, holding court by the pool tables, looking every bit the cocky asshole he presents himself to be. He’s always been a bit of a douche, that was part of his appeal; well until it wasn’t. She couldn't help the way her stomach flipped as she looked at him, the memories flooding her mind would make anyone blush. First kiss, first time, her first everything had been with Jake Seresin, he was supposed to be the only one, but that hadn’t worked out as planned. Nothing had where they were concerned.

She squared her shoulders, his pretty boy looks didn’t work on her anymore and she was here in this tacky bar for a reason, he wouldn’t distract her. In her ridiculously expensive pumps and form fitting black suit she marched over to him and dropped her briefcase in the middle of the pool table, a chorus of what the hells ringing out as she rounds on him, perfectly manicured finger poking him in the chest, shock clearly written all over his face before he schools his features. She’d caught him by surprise; good, maybe this time he’d actually listen.

“Jake! You stubborn redneck hick, I swear to God if I have to cut your damn hand off and sign these papers myself I will.” If he was phased by her colorful vocabulary he didn’t show it, simply throwing back the rest of his beer and sitting it on the corner of the nearest table as he looked her over, the mischief in his eyes evident in his gaze.

“Hey baby, it’s been a while. How’re things at home?” He said with a grin, knowing it would absolutely irritate the shit out of her, he loved riling her up, it was almost like he had a death wish sometimes but then again being an ex fighter pilot just confirmed that.

“Hey. Baby?! Are you kidding me right now?! Oooh!! You are the most annoying person on the planet!” She said shaking her head jerkily and balling her hands into fists, she needed to get it together. There was a reason to be here, get it done and get the hell out of this town, don’t let him distract you Ella you’re better than this.

Someone behind her said something to the extent of damn I like this girl and out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a brunette woman sending impressed looks her way. Well at least someone was entertained, she thought.

She leaned across him to grab the papers from her briefcase, his body stiffening under her and she knew despite his cool exterior she had him rattled. She ran a hand across his uniform top, noticing the falter in his grin as he blinked at her and slammed the stack of papers into his chest.

“I have sent these damn papers through your lawyer 4 times in the past 6 months and they keep coming back unsigned, if you are so incompetent that you can’t use a pen, maybe you shouldn’t be allowed to fly a jet, given your lack of a brain. Sign the damn papers Jake, it’s been 3 years. You very clearly aren’t interested in being a husband so why the hell won't you just divorce me?”

Everyone around them seems to go quiet at this, none of his coworkers even knew he had been in a serious relationship, let alone married.

He sticks a toothpick between his lips and pretends to mull over her words as she taps her heel on the sticky bar floor. She already knows what he’s going to say, the same bullshit line he’s given her their entire life. “You know damn well why Ella Bella, because I promised to love you til the day you die and as far as I can tell you’re still breathin’ so we’re still married.”

She rakes a hand through her wavy red hair and gives him a look that could burn the world down. “If I could go back knowing what I know now I’d have never made that damn promise. Stop holding me hostage and sign the damn papers, I’m not leaving town until you do.” She yanks up her bag and stomps out towards the exit, everyone in the group parting like the Red Sea to let her out. Meanwhile Jake still seems cool as a cucumber, completely unbothered as he lines up his next shot and chuckles as he watches her walk out of the bar.

“Uh you planning on giving us an explanation Hangman?” Natasha Trace is the first to speak up, she does enjoy seeing him brought down a peg from time to time but she’s pretty sure she’s seen him more upset over what was for lunch at the dining facility than he is right now.

“Oh that? Eh she’ll be alright, Ella is all bark and no bite. She knows how much I love her, just gotta remind her is all, she and I will be just fine when she comes to her senses.” He seems awfully sure of himself, but she’d noticed something he clearly didn’t. A big ass diamond ring on her ring finger, no wedding band in sight. She has a thought to say something but thinks better of it; let him crash and burn all on his own and maybe invite the girl out for lunch and some gossip if she can find out her number. Jake’s hometown is just a few miles out from the Kingsville Navy base they’re stationed at, maybe an old friend of his has her info, she files that away for tomorrow’s problems and grabs another drink.

Ella is heated, she clumsily fumbles her keys by her car door as she curses, she knew he wouldn’t go for it but damnit if she didn’t hope he’d come to his senses. They’d been split for almost three years?! What was keeping him from letting her go? Pride? Idiocy?! She didn’t have time for this, she had plans of her own and they didn’t include begging her delusional husband for a divorce for the millionth time.

Her phone began to buzz in her pocket as she finally got the car unlocked and settled into the seat. She heaved a sigh out and put on her brightest smile, answering the face time call with fake enthusiasm.

“Well? How’d he take it?” the raspy voice on the other side of the line says, tan skin and bronze hair and those puppy dog eyes she loves so much gazes at her over the screen, and he can tell she’s pissed. “About as well as I thought. I’m gonna be here a few more days I reckon, maybe I can get one of them to get him to pull his head out of his ass, because it definitely didn’t work like I hoped.” She says the last words with a waver in her voice, she hates that she’s tearing up over this.

Bradley Bradshaw sighs over the screen and runs his hand over his face, he knew it wasn’t going to be as easy as she thought. “Need me to come down there? I can hop a flight? We can order a pizza and get trashed.”

As good as that sounds, his presence would only make it worse, and they both know it.

“No baby, it’s ok. I’ll see you soon alright? I just need to go to my hotel and sleep, I’ll try again tomorrow. Maybe call Natasha and see if she can help me with some intel though? She seemed pretty interested in what was going on, and might be an ally.”

He knows Natasha Trace well, and she definitely would be very helpful if he asked, so he nods his head in agreement and ends the call with I love yous and promises of a back rub when she gets home.

He knows the bomb that’s going to go off as soon as Seresin finds out everything, but he also knows the real reason Jake won’t give Ella what she wants. It’s guilt plain and simple, and Bradley isn’t interested in watching his fiancée get hurt by his former rival anymore. Only Ella knows the whole truth, but are either men ready for it?

A/N- this is gonna be a doozy y’all, prepare for these three to be put through the ringer! Next week we’ll get some more on Jake and Ella’s backstory and why they fell apart, hope you enjoyed chapter one!

🏷️ tagging- @attapullman @seitmai @bobgasm @sailor-aviator @jessicab1991 @roosterforme @bradshawssugarbaby @mynameismckenziemae

[quirklessidiot]

title: hell's favorite secretary [sneak peak] pairing : Devil!Ryomen Sukuna x F!Lost soul!reader [based on the webtoon 'the devil is a handsome man', DC Comics "Lucifer", and the book and video game 'Dante's inferno'] Genre: Alternate Universe-Hell, angst, mystery/thriller, mild horror, romance, slow burn, hell au, dark comedy, lost soul x devil au

Summary: The faceless man shrouded in mystery tends to be a subject of rumors and false pretenses, but you'd think otherwise when you accidentally caught sight of those grueling red eyes.

General warning for the story: graphic depictions of heavy gore (manslaughter, mayhem, and torture), and explicit sexual scenes, more will be added per chapter. this will be exclusively released in ao3 in december <3 Notes: after reading a couple of pages of dante's inferno, reading lucifer (the comic book), and the devil is a handsome man, it sort of struck my interest to write this story! this is a pretty long series and im actually so excitied to write this lol.

if you're a person heavily practicing the catholic faith, i won't recommend reading this series as this talks and leans on the devil (i'm not a satanist pls), he's not glorified here in anyways but I do recall people who lean heavily on the faith are not fond of reading any media depictions of the devil.

i hope you enjoy! rb's are always appreciated.

There are possibly hundreds of artworks about the devil. 

The most famous one is that snake hanging off the forbidden tree or, better yet, a half-animal and half-human. Others would be an ugly babe falling down from the heavens. The most popular modern one would be the one in red with horns on his head, yet your boss did not resemble any of those impressions. Instead, he wore a three-piece suit and had a hole right in the middle of his face.

Yes, you heard that right.

A hole. 

All you could see was an empty void of black nothingness. Nobara had said that Sukuna – yes, the devil went by that name — would never show his face to lost souls like you because, as an angel before, seeing him in his proper form would result in instantaneous combustion. 

Despite that good reason, talking to him was still disconcerting. The whole situation remained to be anomalous.

The ringing thoughts about your previous conversation with your workmate replay in your head like a broken record, your eyes trickling on the piles of paperwork across the window that revealed your boss leaning against the table with his usual outfit and pink tufts of hair neatly styled away.

You recalled meeting him for the first time and wondering why he seemed somewhat familiar. You had overtly eyed him up and down. Despite the hole in his face, he had caught on quickly and asked what exactly you were doing. Until now, you couldn’t understand the physics behind how he could even see you and talk.

You purse your lips in deep thought as lines form in the middle of your head. You don’t even feel your boss walking up to you on your desk, “Seems like someone’s head is up in the clouds this morning.” he points out.

You immediately sat up straight, your shoulders squared, “Sukuna, Sir…” you jumped, eyeing him somewhat warily. 

Despite how he made you feel, the devil was not exactly a strict boss. 

He’s rather lax and did not mind procrastination and passing your work at the last minute as long as you did it well. He works on proper hours, gives vacation and leaves, and an appropriate timetable for lunch breaks. 

He’s hard to hate for a being who's been blamed for man’s misfortune since time immemorial.

“Was the long weekend still not enough?”

“I’m not exactly a sloth, Sir,” you mumble to yourself, but he catches onto your words and remains unphased. It's uncharacteristic for you to say anything more to him, but you needed a good starter for this conversation to get on,  “...Although, I-uh…I do have a question…You remembered our contract, sir?”

One thing that humans were able to grasp correctly about hell and its king is the contract signing and how the devil gives out favors in exchange for something you truly hold dear. For you, since you’re a lost soul, in exchange for changing your status, you’d give proper work hours and help him capture at least eight hundred itinerants.

You’re running on two hundred and fifty so far.

“Oh?” he leans in closer, “That’s not something we talk about every day.” his body language remains fluid and guileless as if he wanted you to speak your mind more, and it only made your palms sweaty despite the coldness of the room, “Would you like to change some conditions? I am, after all, a fair man.” His voice is crisp and light, a charm that made up for his empty face.

“I- well, I’m going to be frank with you, Sir…” you blink, “I- um,” you start to stammer, and it only makes your stomach do different kinds of flips as your mind conjures up different types of worst-case scenarios. It’s not like you couldn’t become a soul after this, right? You’d only have to wait for a century and try to retain your sanity along with it.

He cocks his head to the side, and if you could paint a face on that void of nothingness, you’d wish it would be kind eyes looking down on you, but this was the devil, the man who was struck down from the heavens for being too ‘arrogant and malicious’. You need to be careful with your words, “I…I need information…” you swallowed, your words tumbling out clumsily.

“Information?” your boss remained relaxed, and you knew it was rather diabolic to even pray for God when you were literally in hell, but you had little to no way of reading him. There’s another round of stifling silence; you only want to melt into a puddle of goo this time.

[thiniceofeternalyouth]

MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER TWENTY

A MONSTER THAT LOVED PEOPLE

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, fluff, sci-fi, cosmology.

Words count: ~13k

⊲ previous

Mike was thoroughly washing his hands, standing on his toes - he could barely reach the sink. The boy, realizing he couldn't become manly just like that, had fought his mother into letting him walk to the restroom through the crowd alone - it was always easier to start small. Mike, unaccompanied, doing everyday but adult things, felt himself grow a whole couple inches. After somehow turning off the water and snatching some paper towels, he wiped his hands clean. Taking one last look at himself in the mirror, he squared his shoulders, making himself look bigger, and walked out of the restroom and into the bustling street.

His mother's thick red hair caught Mike's eye at once, it serving as a beacon for her son. Rachel was scrutinizing the hand of Itadori, who was sitting in front of her. Mike, frowning, was about to go to them, but he didn't have time to make a move before the air rang quietly in his ears and a black wing flew in front of his eyes. A tiny whirlwind of worry landed on the trashcan that stood at the entrance to the restroom - Mike glimpsed the crow, nervously slammed his palms on his chest, and, failing to find the medal, indignantly drew air into his chest. "Hey!" he angrily called out to the bird, pitching forward - the crow immediately jumped to the far side of the trash can, clutching the consolation prize harder in its beak. "That's mine!"

He lunged at the bird, trying to grab it, but it flapped its wings, but never flew up, only dropped to the grass and hopped forward, stopping and turning around, beady eyes fixed on Mike, tilting its head to one side or the other, taunting him with the stolen trinket. "Give it back, now!" snorted the boy, trying again to catch up with the crow, but it deftly retreated, flapping its wings mockingly.

With his mother's encouragement and love, the medal had become the epitome of strength and spirit for Mike, but for the stupid bird it was just a shiny bauble, and the boy's nostrils flared with anger at the thought, and he ran forward, willing to spare neither himself nor his own stamina. The crow, sensing danger, flew up - not high enough for the boy to lose sight of it, but not so low that he could reach it with his hands.

Mike ran with his head up and his eyes on the bird, not noticing that the noisy streets were being replaced by the quiet vegetation of the park. He stopped when the bird, perched on a tree branch, released a medal from its beak, which fell at Mike's feet. He grabbed it irritably, and in doing so, plucked a good tuft of grass, and pinned it back on his chest. He glared angrily at his assailant - crow carelessly brushing the black feathers that glistened in the streetlight. Would he never be able to punish his foe?

"Kid, it's pretty dangerous to wander around unaccompanied at night," a voice murmured behind Mike's back. The boy jerked in surprise and turned around. He looked suspiciously at the woman, who chuckled playfully as she tucked a strand of silver hair behind her ear and squatted down in front of him. She delicately corrected the medal hanging crookedly on his chest - smart kids weren't supposed to be enticed by candy. Squinting, Mike took a step back. "Let me take you...to the adults," the woman smiled languidly, gently stroking the black plumage of the crow that landed on her shoulder.

***

"Don't worry about it!" fussed Itadori, fidgeting in his chair, the sudden care that had been thrust upon him making him embarrassed. Rachel had even borrowed a first aid kit from the first counter she could find. "Really! There won't be a mark on me by morning," he laughed awkwardly as he watched Rach treat the back of his hand. He frowned, remembering his own shame. He'd tripped on a low curb when he'd gotten off the wagon and fallen flat on the metal floor.

"Ya can't rely on energy all the time," Rachel muttered, concentrating on dabbing the bloody skin with absorbent cotton. "What if it gets infected?"

Itadori didn't have it in him to object, and he sighed and settled back in his chair, letting Rach do as she pleased. He was red from ear to toe, confused by both the attention and his own memories of his ridiculous embarrassment. Yuji breathed out a sigh of relief as the woman lightly applied a band-aid to the sore spot.

"Here ya go," Rachel chirped, gathering everything back into the first aid kit. She was used to mending children's wounds - she'd unwittingly learned to do it when Kyle fiddled with you both when you were young, and afterward she'd had to treat her son's bruises and abrasions with bandages and a kind word.

When she thought of Mike, Rachel glanced at her watch - her son had been gone for twenty minutes. She scratched her temple thoughtfully, ruffled Yuji's hair, rose from her seat, and turned toward the men's restroom. There were unfamiliar, adult, male faces scurrying around, but there were no kid eyes or disheveled redheads to be seen. Rachel tried her best to put the blame for her anxiety on her own overprotective behavior, but without waiting a second, she took a cautious step forward.

By the time Rachel was close to the room, she was almost running - bursting through the doors and not hearing the outcry, she looked around the empty restroom with a cold stare - a quiet song of boiling anger rang in her head. There was no one at the sinks, all the restroom stall doors were ajar - swinging each one open with a foot and making sure her son wasn't there, she was ready to break something. And if she didn't find what it was, it would be someone's bones.

Running back out into the street and pulling out her phone from her pocket, Rachel frantically searched for her son's picture with trembling hands. Her gaze darted haphazardly from one cheerful eye to another, ringing voices crackled in her head with the squeak of a fingernail on glass. "Mike!" she shouted, but no one but a couple passing by paid any attention to her. She frantically turned around, but her gaze blurred more and more, weaving everything and everyone into one messy stain. "Mike!" she yelled at the top of her lungs, and now most of the eyes were fixed on her, but there was no sympathy or interest in them - rather, they were looking at her like a wild, dangerous animal.  

Rachel didn't remember grabbing every person she passed by by the shoulder and shoving the picture right under their nose, but she could clearly see them all shaking their heads, pulling away from her. Some tried to comfort her, but Rach couldn't hear the quiet, comforting words, for the voice of rage roared deafeningly, turning her song into an animal scream. "Hey," Rachel was called out by a familiar, troubled voice. "What's wrong?" asked Megumi, stepping closer.

"Mike," she whimpered, panting. "He's gone."

Rachel was on the verge of tears and a breakdown - she should have listened to you. Better that he'd spent his whole life in Hopetown, better that he'd never seen the sky or the stars on it, and she'd never have been in the midst of this nightmare where her son wasn't.

Megumi snatched the phone out of her hands. "Then go to the police station," he muttered, sending the picture to himself. Rachel chuckled bitterly, almost hysterically. "Look, he could have just gotten lost," the boy objected, handing Rachel the phone back. "At worst, Mike really could have been taken. But it could have been a human," Fushiguro stammered with emphasis on the last word - he was trying to find words of comfort, but only common sense could speak for him now. "In that case, the police might actually be useful."

Rachel didn't ask any more questions - not if Mike wasn't just lost, or if he hadn't been stolen by human at all. She nodded briefly to Megumi, who was already sending the picture to his friends.

While Rach was running toward the police station, Gojo's students were going around to every person in the amusement park, showing the picture of the red-haired kid. Many of them pressed their lips together sympathetically and shrugged their shoulders, shaking their heads; some of them pointed their fingers thoughtfully; a few joined in the search.

Gasping for breath, Rachel stopped just before the turnoff to the police station - she clutched at her pounding heart, trying to calm it. Her thoughts were a sticky mess of anxiety, and for a brief moment she forgot her own name - she had to come to her senses as soon as possible, lest she look like a runaway lunatic to the police.

Straightening up and exhaling raggedly, she rounded the corner - as soon as she saw the front porch, a puzzle came together in her mind, and the tune became jubilant, almost triumphant - instead of anger, revenge whispered.

Stepping quietly, as a predator would with powerful, furry paws, Rachel came to the steps where Mei-Mei was sitting - a woman with her legs crossed and her hand resting on her chin, glaring at Rachel with a squinting, slippery gaze. "I didn't have to wait long for you," she said in a raspy voice. "Unlike the others," she chirped, rising and heading toward the narrow alley between the house and the police station.

When Rachel heard the flapping of wings, she raised her head slowly and saw a black shadow circling against the blue sky. The crow, following its mistress, descended closer and closer to the ground. Blinking slowly, Rachel followed the woman, but barely had they been in the alley, your sister abruptly grabbed Mei-Mei by her silver hair. "Where. Is. My. Son?" she groaned, bellowing - each single word accompanied by the slamming of Mei-Mei's lovely face against the wall.

Tossing the girl to the ground, Rachel stood at her feet, towering over her - the woman was laughing with bloody teeth, but the laughter was quickly replaced by a wheeze as Mei-Mei felt her oxygen being cut off - her hands went to her neck, clawing at the thin skin involuntarily. Mei-Mei shifted her panicked gaze to her crow, which perched on the antenna and glared at them. Rachel, looking the same way, loosened her invisible grip of her ability - Mei-Mei took a shaky breath and coughed, her own blood now preventing her from breathing. "It'll take you," the woman explained hoarsely, rubbing her neck and red saliva dripping onto the dry ground.

"Is it?" hissed Rachel, seeing three shadows born in the distance, at the very beginning of the alleyway - though they stood still, Rach pitched forward, ready to strike first. "And how long have ya been with them?"

"Business," Mei-Mei laughed huskily, pulling herself up on trembling legs. Even being behind Rachel's back, Mei-Mei realized there was nothing she could do to Rach, but pleasure involuntarily spread through her at the thought of others avenging her face. "It's nothing personal."

Rachel wasn't paying attention to the demons that waited for her, claws bared - she was staring thoughtfully at the crow that stared back at her, bending its head. If she finished Mei-Mei off right now, would it stay here, or would it follow his mistress? Would it crumble to dust, or would its gutless corpse fall to the ground with a thud? If the crow did die, how long would she look for Mike?

She clutched at her heated forehead and shook her head, curbing the bloodthirsty rage, trying to silence it. She swung around sharply and slapped Mei-Mei's bloody face, knocking her head back against the brick wall, making the woman fall to the ground. Rachel walked over to her, crouched down, grabbed her by the hair and brought her face closer to her own. "From now on, every breath ya take is my gift to ya," she hissed, spitting out the poison.

Rachel tossed the limp body back to the ground and moved forward. Crow didn't wait; he rushed forward with her, accompanying her. The demons were still waiting for her, and Rach was laughing madly.

"Tranquility."

The immobile ones remained frozen, but a couple of moments later, they paid for their inaction with their bodies. Rachel wished she hadn't killed them that way, but she was powerless here - mentally apologizing to the people whose bodies the Diomorphea would use to resurrect the demons she had torn apart and whose hearts she had ripped out a few seconds ago, she continued to run under the dark wings of the crow.

The walls of narrow streets and alleys pressed against Rachel, widening in every direction as her path grew more and more dangerous, darker and darker because of the shadows looming over her life. The demons were growing in number as if they were making up for their lack of strength in the human world. They lunged at the Rachel without fear or concern for their own lives - in Rachel's mind, they all mocked her, for she was incapable of harming them, even by ripping out their hearts. Here, on these streets, she would only get as far as the human ones.

Anyway, their faces, their glassy eyes, the way they struggled when they couldn't move their legs or arms, gave Rachel an unearthly pleasure - the kind she really only experienced in the void. Dark lines sprouted at her fingertips and were already spreading across her shoulders, gently, beautifully wrapping around her tanned skin at her collarbones - the girl was not frightened even by that. In the bloodiest moments of her mad grin, she momentarily forgot why she was doing this and where she was running to, but the crow hovering above her reminded her that her son was waiting for her.

She stopped at the huge gate of the abandoned factory and refused to believe the aching pain she felt in the area of her heart, the throbbing reminding her that she was exhausted. Slowly, soothingly rubbing the sore spot, comforting her own heart, she whispered quietly in her mind to it that there wasn't much left.

"Relocate."  

She didn't alert everyone to her arrival with the long, drawn-out creak of the gate - moving just outside the door, she was met with dozens of dark eyes that stared straight at her. "Ya fucking kidding me," she drawled tiredly, leaning her forearm against an old metal post. Trying to catch her breath, she lowered her gaze to the floor. Around her she heard the clatter of small stones, the rustle of wet construction sand - when she felt fangs behind her back, she turned sharply and grabbed the demon by the face, pushing the back of its head into the rickety wall - the plaster sprinkled on the floor cracked along with the bones. Clenching her hand tighter, Rachel felt the demon's jaw burst, and a second later it snapped with a clunking sound. The demon slid down the wall without a human heart before it could even whimper.

On wobbly legs, Rachel turned around, nearly falling over.

"Tranquility." 

Her living, beating heart was stabbed by the blade, and she fell to her knees with a silent cry of pain, surrounded by those she hadn't had time to kill. The ability soon dissipated, scattering into nothing - the motionless demons came to life, but did not dare to make a move in her direction. On the contrary, they shuffled gingerly into the shadows of the rotting columns and pipes, disappearing into the musty odor. Rachel, trying to calm herself, listened to the clatter of drops - she counted each one, hoping the next one would bring a second breath. "Well, well, well," a voice behind her said joyfully, but Rachel didn't have time to jump up - her arms were bound by something wet, scratching her skin, the same something wrapped around her legs, pinning them to the ground. "You really are as reckless as you are violent," the man said, squatting down in front of her and reaching up to touch her face.

Rachel lifted her chin and squinted at Christian, but he reeked too much of inhumanity. "Who are ya?" Rachel hissed suspiciously, dodging the hand that was fixing a strand of her hair.

"I'm an old friend of your little sister-"

"That chicken didn't bring me here for nothing," spat out Rach, ignoring his words. She didn't even want to consider whether it was true. "Where's my son, ya bastard?"

Rei nodded briefly to someone behind Rachel's back - immediately there was a kid's whimper that made her heart clench. "Mom," Mike whimpered softly.

"Baby," she sobbed, oblivious to the fact that she was shackled by the wet sand clutching around her - she howled harder, realizing she was unable to get up.

"How touching," Rei said, looking sympathetically at the mother and son. "I'd talk to you some more, really," he said brokenly, lifting Rach's head by the chin - clear, helpless tears streaming down her eyes. "But I'm more a man of action than a man of words. So, I'm offering you a choice. Either I take your body, or...," the demon shifted his gaze behind her back again.

"No!" she yelled, pitching forward.

Rei, humming approvingly, stood up and gently stroked her head. "Good girl," Rei murmured, stepping behind her.

"Wait," she whimpered, trying to turn her head, but to no avail. "Let me...," she whispered so quietly that Rei had to lean in. "Let me say goodbye to him."

Rei squatted down in front of your captive sister, looking at her with interest. He was thinking about something, his knuckle stroking her lips and glaring at her chest. Coughing, he ripped open her sweater, what he saw reflected in his satisfied smirk. The dark lines running down her collarbones already encircled Rachel's heart - they pulsed brightly and furiously to the beat of her heart. "Cut off the boy's arm," he coldly ordered his subordinate.

The kid's cries became loud, almost unbearable. "When I rip your heart out, I'll make ya eat it, ya fucking scum!" she yelled at the top of her voice, drowning out her son's painful cries. "Let me out!" she struggled and twitched, and Rei was even surprised when the grains of sand of the chains separated for a moment, but sighed disappointedly when he realized that was all the girl was capable of. "Let me out!" she sobbed, swallowing her tears as she tried to control her weakened arms. "Let me go..."

"I was just kidding," Rei waved it off.  He knew for certain now that Rachel couldn't do anything more - not use her ability, not her ability to relocate. She could only sob helplessly.

Rachel shook her head, but no one was laughing at her. The phone was heavy in her pocket - why hadn't she called you? Why hadn't she told Frank? Why had she fallen back on the primitive emotions that had always kept her on a leash?

When her frightened but unharmed son was brought to her, the shackles fell from her wrists, and she instantly pulled Mike to her. When she pulled away from him, she frantically stroked his wet cheeks, swallowing her own tears. Turning her head, she caught a glimpse of Rei standing nearby, surrounded by his subordinates and looking at them thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "It's okay, baby," she assured Mike in a shaky voice, looking into her son's eyes. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him to her as tightly as she had ever held him before - Mike didn't make a sound, only hid his face in his mother's neck. "Tell Y/N," she said quietly in his ear. "Tell her that mom is no longer in isolation, 'kay?"

"What does that mean, mom?" sobbed Mike in a shaky voice, raising his head and looking at her fearfully, his small hands clutching at her sweater.

"It's nothing," she laughed softly, trying to hide her bitterness. "Just tell her I'm not there anymore," she whispered, leaning her forehead against her son's forehead. "It's okay, don't cry, baby. Mom will always be with ya," she paused as she kissed his forehead recklessly, her lips stilled on his skin as she closed her eyes and listened to the approaching footsteps.

"Are you done?" asked Rei kindly, but received a cold stare from your sister in return. "I'll take that as a yes," he grinned.

Rachel was ready to be honest with you now - you were right. You had warned her more than once that her temper would be her undoing. You hadn't been shy about arguing about it, even over the bed where your injured brother lay, and Rachel's mind was reeling with the words you'd said then. 'Bite me, adoptee,' you were wrong about one thing, though: the order. Rachel would follow Kyle, not the other way around, as you had once fervently proclaimed in an attempt to hurt your sister. Rachel bit her lip, trying to suppress one last smile, but her heart stopped before she died when she realized she'd never be able to tease you about it again.

As the demon stood across from her, his thoughts intervened. "You want to do this right now?"

"Yes, I want it right now," he replied confidently, adjusting his tie. Christian's body instantly collapsed to the floor - his arms sprawled out to his sides unconsciously, his eyes turning from black to human but now glassy. Mike flinched fearfully, trying to scurry away, but was grabbed by his mother's hand. "I told ya it was gonna be okay, baby," she cooed, scooping the confused Mike up into her arms. "Oh, I'm sorry your birthday ended this way," she lamented, kissing the boy's temple. "Ya wouldn't mind if mom took away those horrible memories, would ya?" Mike couldn't object, nor could he shake his head - the boy huddled against his mother in fright, feeling himself getting dizzy.

Rei couldn't get past the puddle - stopping beside it, he squatted down and stared at Rachel. "Tell me," he smirked, stroking his cheek in the reflection of the water. The demon admired the tanned skin, the expressive, green eyes, the way the playfully curl fell straight down her face. "Ya didn't think I didn't hear anything, did ya?" the answering reflection was silence - only the water surface reacted to Rei's touch, which quietly laughed your sister's ringing laugh.

[May 23, 2023, 23:40; hunter headquarters, training field]

You followed Rei without saying a word, confused and distraught, staring helplessly and fiercely at his back, his red hair burning your eyes. It seemed your sister was about to stop, turn around and laugh at her own joke and your stupidity. Your weakened legs stumbled and you nearly fell, but you never took your eyes off the demon - you didn't even know why you were following him, what you wanted from him, but your inner humility told you that you were always Rei's shadow - no more, no less.

Rie could feel the vibration of your dagger in his gut, feel how fiercely you clutched it in your hand. He smiled at you, and it looked as if you were too sentimental. He smirked, and involuntarily began coyly winding the red curl around his finger, biting his lip. Was all he needed to keep you by his side, to show him the gratitude he deserved, was for him to take the form of someone close to you?

He tortured you long and thoroughly. Burned out your skin, cut open your organs, gave you to others, made you eat human hearts - in your darkest and most sinister moment, you lavished Rei with happiness with your shivering, withdrawal and a confused, quiet, nasty request to give you another one. The vow that this heart would be your last did not fly from your lips, did not play in your thoughts - all sanity was swallowed up by a dread hunger.

You left your house and the training field behind you in a helpless, slow chase - your footsteps were quieter than the rustling of leaves, but even that was no match for Rei's stealth. Even now you wondered if you saw him before you, or if it was his game, his deception. Exhaling raggedly, almost whining, you became a shadow, merging with the forest - in the blink of an eye, standing in front of Rei, your hand stabbed right into his forehead with a dagger. You stepped back, frightened, as you lost control of your energy and became visible again, standing before Rei in all your cowardly glory.

"Oh," Rei squeezed his hand against his bleeding forehead. "I was wrong after all," he muttered, and thoughts of your reunion began to slip away from him, and for the first time the demon was powerless - he couldn't hold back even one of them. You may have hesitated at first, but you were ready to kill your own sister.

He wiped the blood from his face carelessly with his sleeve as he felt the wound heal, and only then did he turn his attention back to you. Cold sweat was running down the back of your neck, and Rei laughed when he felt it. You were in a fighting stance, ready to pounce on him, but your hand, clutching the dagger, was trembling, Rei felt it as if it were his own. "What is it?" he asked, grinning predatorily - he couldn't smell fear, couldn't smell sorrow, but something primal slid across your bodies, connecting you. "Can't resist anymore?" he pitched forward, and his eyes widened with madness - the feeling of your hunger was pushing him into an abyss of despair and unholy, wrong love.

There was no ground beneath your feet - you clung to the muffled, happy voices. There was no cold of the void, no chains holding you, and your body was wrapped and lulled by the warm wind, but you didn't have the strength to enjoy it - the iron shackles had been replaced by hungry ones. "You must learn to forage yourself," Rei's voice was instructive, soft in your head. You almost couldn't make out the words - they all sounded strangely unfamiliar, though the sounds took you back to a past you couldn't remember. You jerked your head around, but you were surrounded by a swirl of gray, indistinct shadows, and only a child's laughter brought you back to earth one last time. You didn't realize who you were, you didn't know what you looked like now, but you could clearly feel the hearts beating, hear them pumping blood through the living, fresh people - there were many of them, so many that the once-swirling swords were pulled from your body. All it took for you to feel no more pain was to simply stop resisting, so why had you always been so obstinate?

The more you felt the lightness, the more the laughter turned into shrieks, but you, wandering the free lands, relieved of your torment, could not feel your clammy hands, could not see what pictures they painted - only the hunger grew quieter and quieter.

"Shading."  

You were almost out of control - you couldn't even feel your own weight, your hand was free to strike your sister's body, and Rei, instead of fighting back, was accepting each slash of your dagger with a hearty laugh. Stepping out of the shadows and grabbing him by the hair, you pressed his face against the tree and pressed the blade against his throat. "Don't ya change bodies too often, bastard?" you hissed in his ear.

"That gives you some idea, doesn't it?" he smirked, easily releasing himself from your grip and moving behind your back. When you turned around, he was faced with his favorite painting - you, all stained in blood. His best piece of artwork. "Have you forgotten our deal?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. "I'll gladly beat you to death the day you come crawling back to me on your knees, remember?" he spat out obsessively, holding himself back from attacking you right away.

You, lowering your gaze to the ground, swallowed. If you kill the demon, Gojo's promise becomes null and void; if the demon kills you, his promise becomes fulfilled. And the sorcerer, regardless of the outcome, would live. You and Rei couldn't coexist - only one of the two had to stay. And if your hunch was right, you'd not only free Gojo from his promise, you'd also rid the people of demons. At the very least, if there were no Diomorphea, no dioreact would be able to merge with the human body anymore. 

"I really enjoyed watching you sleep, eat, and coo with your human, completely unaware that your sister was gone. I guess you didn't love her enough to realize it. And not so careful to realize that you had an enemy around you," Rei grinned as he effortlessly found and pressed your sore points to drive you to the brink of insanity. "I admit, it was indeed amusing... but I have to go now, liebe."

Looking up at the demon again, you wanted to howl under the piercing gaze of green eyes - what was the moment he'd taken Rachel from you? Why didn't you hear any screams or quiet pleas for help? Against your better judgment, you wanted answers to your questions - you wanted Rei to stay just a little while longer, but he pushed back his red curls and disappeared into the darkness of the woods before your eyes. Your eyes widened with confusion and bewilderment. "Wait!" you screamed helplessly, turning sharply and looking around, trying to make out a human silhouette among the hundreds of trees. Your cheeks burned as you stammered and shuddered and went deeper into the thicket, helplessly searching for him, refusing to believe he was gone. "Rei!"

The rustling of the leaves resembled the sound of rain, but your face was wet only from your own tears. You were no longer able to walk, you couldn't even breathe - falling on the first tree you came across, you gasped, trying to hold on to your consciousness, in which all of them were still alive. The ground didn't shake, your house on the hill didn't burn, that purple flame didn't take away all people's hopes and wishes - your paper plane kept flying and flying, with Frank, Kyle, and Rachel standing behind you. "Someone," you whimpered, pressing your palms into your face - your whole body was shaking, you could barely stand on your feet. The creature wasn't screaming - it was silently, painfully taking your will from you, subjugating you. "Get someone back, please..."

You wanted to shackle yourself to the cold ground - in flashes of insight, you saw yourself walking back toward home. You couldn't tell if those disgusted and frightened looks were real. The creature didn't ask you if you were ready to show your real face - you didn't know if any of them were fake. It wouldn't hurt you if someone stabbed a knife through your heart right now - it would be one less monster in the world anyway.   

Your body was no longer yours - it refused to turn around. You couldn't even look at your own hands - they wouldn't rise. As you obediently walked back, your thoughts screamed in a way that tore at your sanity - was this how the creature felt when it was locked away? Not taunting, not teasing - it was silently trying to bring you back to the humans, oblivious to its own hunger. 

No one had come to their senses yet - almost everyone was standing with hastily packed suitcases on the cliff at the entrance to the house, waiting for the others to gather. Shoko was still walking between the students, inspecting them for injuries - a smoked cigarette was immediately replaced by a new one. No one even dared to whisper, no one even stepped from foot to foot, just worried and anxious glances from side to side.

Gojo stepped outside, holding a lost and half-asleep Mike in his arms - as he approached Ieiri, she shook her head to let the sorcerer know you weren't here. Swallowing nervously, he set the boy on the ground and quietly nudged him toward Megumi and Danielle, and ran his eyes over the familiar faces once more. Rachel wasn't here either. 

Whether out of anger or despair, Gojo stormed back into the house, into the workroom, and swung open the bathroom doors - he hadn't imagined it. You really were missing. Fumbling for the phone, he dialed your number, and his heart stopped - the intervals between beeps were so long, so quiet, he could hear his own ragged breathing. The hem of your burned blue dress vibrated - the sorcerer, drowning himself in denial, shook his head, rubbing his eyes and trying to get rid of the annoying vibration that was ringing and crackling in his ears, but it was getting louder - unable to bear it, Gojo jerked the dress aside. Underneath was your phone, its screen still glowing with his name.  

He was scared to death that you might have done something to yourself, completely oblivious to the fact that your favorite habit was running away. "Fuck!" he yelled, hurling the phone at the wall - the shards flew weakly, helplessly to the floor.

Sobbing and breathing hard, Gojo grabbed the sink to keep from falling right where your dead dress lay lifelessly on the floor. He straightened up sharply, wiping his face as he heard the sound of the door opening. "Hey," Ieiri quietly called out to him. "Let's go," she nodded her head toward the exit, giving him a meaningful look - his eyes widened with realization, and the sorcerer almost shoved his friend off, rushing for the exit. 

You were slowly coming down from the training field - your arms were hanging limply along your body, your legs barely moved, and Gojo almost ran towards you, but Mike was ahead of him - looking at the boy confusedly, the sorcerer slowly moved towards you, trying not to scare you away. Mike, stopping near you, took a step back and froze - coming closer to you, Gojo saw the bloody stains on your gray T-shirt, which were gaping like black cinders - just like your eyes. But no waters of the dark oceans could hide the grief Gojo saw in them.  

"Y/N?" asked Mike uncertainly, startled. You didn't respond, just continued to stare at the boy. "Where's... Where's mom?" he asked, almost whimpering.

The night wind ruffled his red hair, inadvertently reaching up to yours, but you didn't feel so tenderly touched. "I'm sorry, Mike," you said hollowly, unable to hear your own voice. "Your mom's not coming," your own whisper was an executioner's axe, cutting away whatever humanity was left in you.

Once you were surrounded, you no longer distinguished between friends and foes. The creature told you, echoed that they looked at you the same - all their pain reflected in childlike eyes. "No," Mike whimpered softly, sobbing. He looked at the creature with horror, and the bloodstains as proof instilled Mike with confidence in your guilt. "No," he repeated, shaking his head and stumbling backwards - you couldn't see him running away anymore. 

"Mochi," Gojo whispered softly, reaching out gently and trying to touch you, but not in time - you, with a strangled cry of unbearable pain, fell. Sharp stones dug into your palms, taking away your last will and remnants of resistance. "Mochi," he was still quietly trying to reach you, but his soul went into a mute scream, making him feel the same way you felt. The sorcerer crouched beside you and wrapped his arms around your stiffened, petrified body, trying to lift you up, but you wouldn't budge. Each of his careful touches threw you off balance, each of his agonizing sobs drove you further into the void. 

As Megumi ran up to you, Gojo turned around, startled, and slowly shook his head. You needed some peace. He'll sort it all out. He'll get you out of there, wherever you are now. "Go away," the sorcerer ordered, and his tone did not tolerate bickering. Megumi, taken aback, tried to get a glimpse of you, but Gojo, having covered you with his body, gave no one a chance to see you in your state of madness. "Get everyone out of here!" he shouted, and Fushiguro nodded, turning and running to the others. 

"Baby," he whimpered at the necessity of his own actions and pulled your face off the ground with force - you howled harder through clenched teeth, and Gojo didn't waste a moment and pulled you against him, not even seeing what was happening to you. Taking you by the waist, he lifted you up - when the sorcerer turned around, there was no one on the cliff. "It's okay, there's no one here," he reassured you, leading you into the house.  

You kept stumbling because you couldn't feel your legs, but Gojo kept picking you up. Your head hung limply, but you could not see the ground beneath you. Almost crossing the threshold, you stumbled in your own pain and collapsed to the metal floor. "Go away," you wheezed in your last breath, lifting yourself up on your hands - your dark, disheveled hair hid your disfigured face. 

"No," Gojo resisted, sinking down beside you and trying to lift you up again. Gojo refused to be powerless in the face of the extraterrestrial madness that was trying to take you from him. He held you close to him, taking all your accidental blows - your claws that dug into his skin burned his flesh from the inside out, but he knew you were doing it unintentionally. Gojo frantically stroked your hair, writhing each time the claws dug harder, deeper. Your breathing had become inhuman - it was too ragged and fast - but Gojo didn't realize that there was still a shred of sanity inside you, begging the creature to move to places where no one else was.  

Get out of here. Get away from it. Go somewhere where it couldn't hurt anyone. Using the remnants of your thoughts, your memories of loved ones, your knowledge of humanity, you covered your dark eyes, giving yourself over to the creature entirely.

"Relocate."    

[May 28, 2023, 9:11pm; Kyoto, Kyoto Prefecture, Kyoto College]

You've been gone for five days, and Gojo hasn't slept a wink. The walls of Kyoto College reminded him painfully of the old days, the days when he had not yet met you. The sorcerer hid his face in his collar and walked along the stone-paved road among the tall columns that burned red - they towered over him, trying to make him feel smaller, but he only treaded indifferently on their flat shadows. 

Gojo checked the news every day, immediately visited the places where the murders had been committed, and, completely desperate, widened his search - he returned again with nothing, checking the scene of a robbery at a shabby convenience store outside Kyoto. The sorcerer darted from place to place, torn between Kyoto College and the abandoned headquarters. He had no idea where exactly you would return, but the thought of your return was a beacon to Gojo, a light that shone with an imminent light that would never go out. 

The approaching summer did not give him hope, the ending spring did not give him confidence for goodbye - all the good things were extinguished in a flash under the sympathetic and worried looks of his students. The sorcerer almost did not communicate with them - it was difficult for him not only to speak, but just to keep the usual carefree smile on his face.

Gojo stopped in the shade of the trees and, taking off his blindfold, looked at the students who were quiet in the training stadium. All of them were unusually silent, sitting on the grass, absorbed in their own thoughts with occasional muffled blows - Maki was practicing her strikes on Panda, and he was stoically enduring them. But even these two were silent, not encouraging each other in any way.  

The urge to check on Danielle and Megumi never left Gojo, thus aggravating his condition - every time he gathered his courage, he was stopped by one question: what could he say to make them feel better? The sorcerer was no good at comforting and soothing people before, and no words would bring the dead and unburied back to life - there were no bodies left of them that the purple flames had taken, their bodies would not be committed to the ground, and their names, never engraved on a tombstone, would dissolve into eternity.

Gojo asked himself, lying captive in the sleepless night, blamed himself for everything that had happened, trying to remove the dark circles under his eyes with ice water in the morning, and even in the afternoon, in the blazing sun or drizzling rain, he couldn't shake off the confusion - how had this happened, and was there a single moment he could interrupt to change everything? Gojo was never a hunter, but he knew that all those whom you brought out of the void, and who found their refuge in Hopetown, were humans. He quickly connected two threads in his head - you'd told him that only the three of you had access to the vault, and while Frank was already dead, Rachel was nowhere to be seen. As he walked up the steps to the porch, the sorcerer hid his already hidden face in his palms, trying to keep his bitterness at bay - you were still standing in front of his eyes, covered in your sister's blood. She couldn't have betrayed you like that, so it wasn't her at all. There was only one name, the silent sound of which burned the sorcerer's soul with rage - it was to find out who Rei had used to take them all away from you.  

"Showing up?" Ieiri blurted casually as she passed him - Gojo, taken aback, started up when he met Shoko's gaze. She clucked her tongue irritably at his tired, bloodshot eyes, and leaned against the wooden railing, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket. "You missing not on missions, are you?" he huffed, shaking his head in embarrassment with a short shrug, and stood next to his friend, repeating her pose and directing his gaze to the floor. "Listen," Ieiri gave up, exhaling restlessly, shaking off the ashes. "Stop looking all over for her. It's not like she's a little kid, she'll be able to contact you if she comes to her senses."

"When," Gojo corrected her quietly but stubbornly, raising his index finger softly. "When she comes to her senses."

"Well, kinda...," Shoko said, shrugging tiredly.

"Give me one, too," he demanded, holding out his hand - Ieiri looked him over from head to toe in surprise, trying to find the usual jocularity, but his blank, absent look made her pull a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket and hold one out to the sorcerer. 

She watched him carefully, nervously - the first time he took a drag, Gojo nearly choked, but suppressed a hoarse cough against his fist. All the bitter smoke stayed in his lungs, settling, saturating, but it never filled the void. "I'm disappointed," the sorcerer said wistfully, taking a second drag. "For some reason I always thought that was how you calmed your nerves. Turns out you're just poisoning yourself."

"Welcome to adulthood," she patted his back comfortingly, trying to dilute his sadness with a sarcastic joke. "You have many more disappointments ahead."

He grinned softly, stubbing out the cigarette butt on the ashtray. It seemed no grim revelation would cause him as much pain as Gojo was feeling right now. "How are you feeling?"

"I don't know," Shoko admitted honestly. "On the one hand, I'm glad Doc swamped me with work and I never got to go to the wedding, but on the other...," she swallowed and fidgeted, twirling the pack of cigarettes in her pocket, fiercely fighting the urge to smoke another one. "Just because I haven't seen these deaths doesn't mean they never happened. It's just... It's just hard to realize."

"Believe me, if you saw it, it would be a lot harder."

Shoko, sensing his distressed state, did not take to arguing with him. She gently stroked Gojo's shoulder, trying to keep him here on Earth on his own two feet. "Um...," she began awkwardly, trying to search for some truth. "You know, your students sometimes say things," she scratched her temple and felt a prick of conscience between her shoulder blades. "Is it... Is it true that she killed Rachel?"

His reaction made Ieiri flinch. "No!" spat out Gojo sharply. "It's just...," he continued, burying his hands in his hair. "It's hard to explain. But it wasn't her sister anymore," he gibbered, and the speculation pressed and choked him harder and harder. Three keepers. Rei used the body of one of them - your sister's body - to tear the heart of the town and let the demons in, but who helped him? Who was behind him?  

"I get it. Calm down."

"Now she's got nobody," the sorcerer sobbed despondently. Guilt crept closer and closer, but it didn't explain her origins, just wandered around and laughed, mocking his helplessness and inability to fix things. 

Ieiri tightened her lips and hugged herself stiffly. You'd barely spoken to Issu, Dany was broken, but now she had a family of her own, and you'd lost yours - something told Shoko this wasn't the first time this had happened to you. Despite your background, you'd always held up well, carefully sidestepping madness, and now the woman couldn't blame you for inadvertently going insane - an unfamiliar sympathy was zealously working its way through the excuses wandering through Shoko's mind. "She has you," Ieiri stated softly but insistently. "So get a grip," Gojo, barely able to tear his hands from his face, glanced at his friend over his shoulder, inadvertently exposing before her the painful worries that lingered in the blue eyes. "You should rest," she admonished softly, patting him on the back as she left. 

The sorcerer could hear the clatter of her heels that inevitably grew distant. Even though Ieiri had left so soon, he was still grateful for her soothing words - they had been said carelessly, almost sloppily, but he had been guilty of that himself. The sorcerer had never let Shoko be at his side even in the darkest of times - he just had to pretend the darkness didn't exist.

Alone, Gojo, rubbing his tired eyes, sat down on the porch of the minka, resting his shoulder on a wooden post and staring blankly into nothing. The stone-paved road had crumbled, the stately red columns had crushed, and the trees, stripped of their leaves, had rotted away - there was nothing before him, and the haven of the rising sun was a ruin where that sun had never come up.

There was no counting the times when all his thoughts were occupied by desperate terror - his mind flashed back and forth to the places where the sorcerer had already been in his attempts to find you. They were smoothly replaced by secluded corners of the ground where you might be lurking - he grimaced as he came to the conclusion that you were now out of reach. Somewhere he couldn't go. 

Gojo wiped his eyes a dozen times, your silhouette flashing in front of him, making him jump up and down on numb legs. He laughed softly, maniacally, and pressed his palms into his eyes, needing to wash away the image the sun had painted of you. The departing, chilling rays had treated him cruelly, shadowing his revelations and desires. Blinking tiredly, Gojo no longer expected to see you, but you were still striding forward toward him, barely dragging your feet. His body was paralyzed for a moment, and that second seemed like an eternity - Gojo had waited too long already. He leaped up from his seat and ran toward you, almost out of breath. 

Once a couple feet away from you, Gojo slowed his step, almost stopping. "Mochi?" he asked quietly, gazing at you intently. The last ray that went down shone down on you - your tattered pajamas were soaked through in darkness, black lines ran down your arms and legs, wrapping around your flesh, and the closer you came, the more ugly patterns Gojo could see - they lurked even under your dark eyes, which didn't reflect the light. You stopped a step away from him - your open, empty gaze stared through him, and there wasn't a single unfamiliar feature in you, but it wasn't you anymore. But not to him. "I...," Gojo began, swallowing. "I'm gonna pick you up, okay?" you didn't respond - not with a word or an action, just continued to stand numbly. He couldn't reach your thoughts, and he couldn't imagine what you were feeling right now, but if your heart was whimpering bitterly in pain right now, his howled a little louder.   

Gojo scooped you up in his arms gently, intending to carry you as quietly as possible to the infirmary, but when he felt that you were wet, he looked at his palm, which was covered in blood, and though he could see no wounds or even scratches where the fabric had been torn, he sprinted on. Your limp body was so cold that touching your skin made him feel a tingling sensation on his own. There was no doubt - all this time you'd been in the void.  

When Gojo burst into the infirmary, he met with a couple of puzzled looks. Doc, hidden behind a pile of papers, jumped up as soon as he saw you. "Give her here," he ordered coldly, taking you from the sorcerer. Without wasting time, doc rushed to the room across the hall - laying you on the couch, he began rummaging through the drawers for ropes, but found tourniquets. Shoko hovered over you as if studying you, and Gojo stood at the foot of the bed, lost. "Get out," Doc muttered. Ieiri took her gaze away from you and noticed that the sorcerer still hadn't moved - she tugged at his jacket, leading him away from the room. "Ieiri," shouted doc to after her. "Bring me the metal box. It's in the bottom drawer of the desk."  

With a brief nod, she closed the door behind them, and, leaving Gojo in the corridor of the infirmary, headed for the office. Finding it easily, she handed the box to the doc, who didn't even let her enter the room, just stuck his hand out from behind the door and grabbed it.

Ieiri eyed her friend apprehensively as he stood almost right up to the door, unmoving. No wandering of lost gaze, no hands pounding on the door, demanding to be let in. There was the muffled rustling of a body against the sheets on the other side - doc was doing all this work in silence. And probably not for the first time. Her hand reached into her pocket, but she restrained herself from going outside and leaving Gojo alone, right in front of the door where the unknown was happening to you. 

A sharp, strangled scream cut through his unexpectedly fragile heart, leaving it bleeding - it was as if it had snapped Gojo out of a nightmare, and he didn't hesitate to kick the door open and burst into the room. You lay there meekly, not moving or breathing, your black eyes visible from under half-closed eyelids - you didn't even blink. Gojo's fists clenched tighter when he saw your hands bound tightly to the metal frame of the couch. A needle from an IV was stuck in your vein, and doc was standing nearby, calmly injecting some kind of liquid into that saline bag through a syringe – Gojo's eyes turned red when his gaze collided with the open metal box.

Gojo grabbed doc's neck and pulled the man toward him, throwing him into the wall. A few inches from the doc's face, a metal box flew into the wall with force - the ampoules shattering on the floor released a pleasant but pungent odor. Standing in front of doc and with his back to you, Gojo faced him - there was no feeling in him, only eyes poured with scarlet obsession that gave away the habits of a wounded animal. "Let me through," growled doc, trying to shove him aside, but the sorcerer would not move an inch. His stubbornness, his recklessness made doc boil with anger. He clenched his teeth and slammed his fist into Gojo's jaw, as hard as doc's arm was, but the sorcerer still stood as before, his head tilted slightly to the side.

Gojo grabbed doc by lab coat front and dragged him toward the exit, away from you. "I think I've been playing the good clown for too long," Gojo spat out right in the man's face, and doc's skin caught fire, twisting. Reaching the door, the sorcerer shoved him off again, but this time spared - doc recoiled a step. "Don't make me do this," the sorcerer begged surreptitiously, lowering his head and making it clear that he would regretfully kill the man if doc dared move towards you again.   

"Idiot!" howled doc, waving his hands in despair. "What fairy tales have you come out of if you think that love can overcome and transcend everything?" he tried to get through to Gojo, but the sorcerer, without raising his head, had made up his mind a long time ago. "Look at her!" barked doc, but he did not obey. "I said look!" he muttered, and Gojo, coming out of his trance, turned around.   

How many people have you killed while bound by dark lines? How many destinies have you destroyed while your eyes drowned in darkness? The simplest questions that should have popped into your head, but Gojo seemed to have lost his mind completely, for he saw you as the same kind of victim, a hostage to circumstance and fate itself that had appeared from a world of distant stars. "She's a monster," doc urged with all his might at the remnants of common sense. You did have half of a human in you, but none of your good deeds could stand up to a bloodthirsty entity that wasn't bloodthirsty by choice - it just wanted to live. "Not theoretically, not metaphorically, and not in any other sense! She's a monster, straight up."   

"So am I," Gojo didn't snarl, didn't object, for he knew he had enough power to destroy the whole world, and if he had the same essence in him, Gojo would have done it, but you were stronger than he was, and the world, surprisingly, was still standing and alive. Unlike you, who lay motionless on the bunk. 

"Love won't overcome or transcend anything. Just get over it," doc said discreetly, making one last attempt.

Gojo, coming up to you on weak legs, ran his fingers gently over your cheek - the lines, awakened, were caressing and trying to reach him. "Why do you think she came here?" he asked blankly, taking a seat in the chair beside you. "Not that she knew where Kyoto College was. So she came to see me," Gojo tried to shake you up with gentle motions - he would fix and smooth your disheveled hair, or stroke the thin, soft skin under your eyes, decorated with dark patterns, but you didn't respond. "Did you always do that to her?" he laughed bitterly, glancing at doc. "When she was in pain and could no longer control herself, did you always tie her up, drug her with an orchid and leave her alone?"

"In that state, she's completely out of control and anything can throw her off balance," doc said dryly. "So yes, it's important to immobilize her and remove stimuli. Right now, all you're doing is disturbing her. Very convenient, isn't it?" asked doc sarcastically. "After all, if she loses her temper, it won't be you she'll blame for anything she does-"

"Just leave us alone," Gojo pleaded quietly, turning away from the man. When doc opened his mouth again, Ieiri, taking him by the shoulder, shook her head. With a ragged, noisy exhale, doc waved him away and strode out of the room, Ieiri followed, closing the door behind them. 

"You don't need this," Gojo whispered painfully, desperately shaking his head and removing the needle from your arm. "You don't need all of this," he repeated obsessively, releasing you from your shackles, removing the tight tourniquets from your wrists. "It's okay," the sorcerer whimpered, resting his head on your chest - not hearing the pounding of a human heart, he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to rid himself of the intrusive images his morbid imagination was painting. He knew from myths and first-hand accounts where the other heart lurked - even if he couldn't see it, Gojo still kissed you feverishly between your collarbones. With a sob, he pulled away and put his hand around your cheek, your body heating up, though you remained still. "We can handle everything, just come back to me," he frantically promised in a whisper against your hidden lips, calling out to you that were locked away. "Come back to me, please."    

[June 4, 2023, 06:34pm; Kyoto, Kyoto Prefecture, Kyoto College]

You hadn't woken up in a week, but you weren't asleep either - you were lying in the same position doc had left you in, your eyes still half-open. Gojo had barely left your side, ignoring sleep, hunger, and the missions he'd been assigned. He snapped at the Gakuganji that appeared before him, demanding his duties - in case the curse was dangerous and powerful, the sorcerer would grudgingly leave the chamber, but would return an hour later. In such moments he thanked and appreciated the power he had been gifted with, which allowed him to deal with his enemies instantly. He was reluctant and afraid to leave you alone, and in moments of separation, Gojo would approach Ieiri with a shy look, begging her to look after you, and she would quickly give up, seeing his puppyish, powerless glance.   

Today was one of those quiet days, when the sorcerer wasn't disturbed or troubled, and he could devote it entirely to you. There was a glass of water and a carton of chocolate milk on the nightstand next to your bunk in case you woke up suddenly, and one of the popular science books he'd dug up from the clutter of your abandoned workroom. Reading it to you in the evenings, Gojo didn't memorize a word, but he couldn't stand the silence. One day, when he decided to tell you a story from his life, his voice trembled before he even spoke - that's when the sorcerer got the idea for the book. All he had to do was stare at the lines and say them aloud so you could hear him and know he was there.  

Gojo, standing by the bunk and humming softly to himself, was massaging your bent-knee leg - he was slowly rubbing your shin and calf, pressing gently on the muscles. Even though everyone who lived at Kyoto College was protected from such human problems as bedsores, he could use this as an excuse to touch you and feel your warm skin, for you gave no other sign of life. No matter how carefully Gojo treated you, he was still wary of turning you on your side - he was ready to kill the doc for his words, but Gojo heeded him anyway and tried to disturb you as little as possible. He couldn't even change your clothes on clean one. Whether out of embarrassment or fear for your condition, the sorcerer turned to a capable man - doc, changing from anger to mercy, changed you into hospital pajamas. 

Carefully, Gojo sat down next to you and worked on your hands, carefully squeezing your flesh, feeling the muscles and massaging them. He was weak to temptation - sometimes he gave in to the urge and kissed the back of your palm. "Here we go," he murmured softly, warming your skin.

Barely had he picked up the book, a knock came into the room - hearing cautious footsteps, he turned around. "Oh, Megumi, hey!" smiled Gojo exhaustedly but self-consciously, waving and greeting his student. Fushiguro, seeing his strained smile, tensed up. 

"Yeah, hey," he said quietly in response, and stepping awkwardly from foot to foot, he took a chair and placed it next to the teacher.

"How's Dany?" Gojo asked cheerfully, making Megumi wince - the boy could hear the affectation and pretense in his voice, but he didn't bother to point it out.

"She bury herself in taking care of Mike, so it's not as bad as it could've been," he said, and while Gojo thought of the happiest day of his and Danielle's lives collapsing into ashes of broken and burned bones, he thought of Mike - the one who hadn't started living yet, but had already seen ten lives ahead of him. "But I still won't take on any missions just yet." 

"Honeymoon, I see," the sorcerer said with a sigh, and Megumi didn't hit him or threaten him or snap at him - the amusement in his teacher's voice had melted away, leaving behind only a sticky residue. Everyone was coping as best they could.  

Frowning slightly, awkwardly fingering his interlaced hands, Megumi dared to take a glimpse at you. "And you... How are you doing?" he asked quietly.   

Gojo, putting the book aside, clapped himself on his thighs. "Wonderful," he chirped. "She even blinked once today, can you believe it?" Megumi didn't know since when he'd learned to separate lies from truth, or if it only applied to Gojo, but he wasn't happy about the newfound ability. It would have been better to pick up on his feigned joy and rejoice with him, but instead, Fushiguro pursed his lips skeptically against his will, lowering his gaze, and it left its mark on Gojo. "I don't know what to do anymore," he admitted in a cracked voice, ashamed of himself, feeling disgusted at his own weakness - it had only been a week, and though the sorcerer wasn't ready to give up, the thought of you never coming to the senses was visiting him more and more often, driving him mad. He grabbed a carton of already warm chocolate milk and started twirling it around in his hands, pretending to look at the inscriptions. "Doc told me... He told me that when she's in a normal state, her atoms are constantly trying to rearrange themselves, and she holds them back. By willpower, power of thought or whatever," Gojo exhaled raggedly, calming his trembling words. "Also... Doc said that even he can't imagine the pain she feels all the time. It all amounts to your body constantly trying to split itself into smaller pieces," Megumi looked at the teacher fearfully, seeing him start to break down. "So... Maybe the fact that she's in this state now isn't such a bad thing. At least she's not in pain now," realizing that the feelings were about to spill out of his eyes, the sorcerer stood up from his chair, still clutching the carton of chocolate milk in his hand. "She... She likes it cool," he explained hushfully. "Sit with her for a minute, I'll be right back."

Before Megumi could even open his mouth, Gojo was out of the room. When he turned to you, he stared at you for a second and then dropped his gaze to the floor. He just couldn't look at you any longer. Your motionless body and glassy eyes made him feel like he was in a morgue. Fushiguro was caught between two fires. He felt like he was alone with a corpse, but what he dreaded more was your sudden awakening. What will you do to him if you wake up now? Would you recognize him, or would you see Megumi as nothing but blood-soaked meat? The boy doubted he'd have the strength to stop you. 

Shame choked him for thinking such thoughts - you were there for him when he doubted himself, and he couldn't even dignify you with a glance. Which was the worst part for him - if he had admitted it to you, you would never have blamed him. "I'm sorry," he muttered, getting up from his chair, still not lifting his head. "I'm sorry," he begged in a broken whisper, turning around - Megumi didn't remember flying out of the room, slamming the door loudly behind him. Leaning back against the wall, he tried to catch his breath. 

Clutching his hands into his hair, he chastised himself for being a coward - the anger was so strong that he forcefully slammed his fist into his forehead several times. "Megumi?" the boy looked up sharply to see Gojo cradling a new carton of milk to his chest. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah...," he said, panting. "Yeah," he repeated, straightening up. "Just... It just got a little uncomfortable."

"Why are you so afraid of her for?" he snorted resentfully, shoving Fushiguro aside and opening the door. "It's not like she's gonna bite you." 

Grumbling a little more and forgetting even to thank Megumi, Gojo entered the room, still clutching the cold carton to his chest, hopelessly trying to cool the hot heart, but it was so disobedient and stubborn that it started beating fervently, painfully, when the sorcerer looked at your bed. The carton that had fallen out of his numb hand cracked, the milk trickling across the floor. For the second time in his life, for the briefest moment that existed, Gojo actually wanted to kill you - he saw only crumpled sheets on an empty bed.    

[December 25, 2018, 8:15pm; hunters' hq]

Gojo had opened his eyes half an hour ago, but he still hadn't woken up. He didn't know whose house he was in, didn't know the moods and motives of his masters, but he didn't care - all his thoughts were occupied by his student who was lying on the next bunk. The sorcerer no longer felt the presence of the curse king in him or anywhere else, but why did the dark lines spreading across Megumi's arms look so carnivorous? They didn't ooze cursed energy, and Gojo could barely see the enemy in them, but they were desperately reaching for the boy's heart.     

Out of the frying pan into the flames - first his student was enslaved by Sukuna and then by unknown forces, and while Gojo understood how to fight the curse, the dark lines didn't lend even to the reverse technique. Mockingly, they spread further and further away. Megumi had been through too much already, and whoever had done this to him would have to pay for it. "Good evening," hearing an unfamiliar voice, Gojo gripped the armrests harder. Two figures blocked the window, appearing on the other side of the bunk. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine enough to twist a couple heads off," Gojo grinned, and despite the lack of light in the room - sunlight or moonlight - his eyes glittered hostilely.

Christian, sighing understandingly, adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "We're not the ones who did this to your student," he explained, glancing at the unconscious Fushiguro. "But we know who did."

"What do you want from me?" Gojo asked wearily, carelessly waving their words away - Christian was starting to get annoyed that Gojo wasn't giving them the respect they deserved. He hardly looked in their direction - all his attention was on his student. But they could take advantage of that. 

"We want you to kill whoever did this to your student," Christian stated defiantly, interlocking the fingers of his hands. The man wasn't going to press Gojo, nor rush him, for he realized that no better moment would present itself - the strongest sorcerer couldn't be taken by surprise, and his misunderstanding of the situation, his confusion as to how and why the fight with Sukuna had ended, his bewilderment as to how he had ended up in this house were a gift worth graciously accepting. "Your student is very lucky," Christian continued softly, cautiously. "She doesn't usually leave anyone alive."  

Nathaniel stood beside Christian, neither moving nor speaking, listening and catching every word, learning. He was uneasy - if someone outside but close got wind of this, both demons and hunters would want them dead. But, as Christian had said, it was necessary - after all, you were a danger to both. "All you need to do now is name a price."  

"Two hundred million yen and Hokkaido land to boot," laughed Gojo, mocking.

Christian, though he pressed his lips together, was willing to pay any price. "Well, it won't be easy, but it can be arranged-"

"Are you idiots?" he barked, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Get outta here."

The higher-ups looked at each other. It was their last resort, their stronghold, and if it didn't work, they'd never get the chance to kill you again. Your weak point wasn't so easy to penetrate, but it was possible to try to bend it. "Satoru." 

Gojo turned around, dazed, in utter disbelief. His best friend stood before him, not alive, but not dead. In that second, the sorcerer forgot that he had finished him off, his memory faded into oblivion of the atrocities for which he had had to kill him, for Geto stood there smiling at him as he had before his soul had been broken by human cruelty.

Gojo, rising slowly, didn't find the courage to take a step forward - lost in his unconsciousness, he stared at his friend with open, glittering eyes. "Hey," Suguru smiled, taking the first steps towards him. Suguru stopped across from him - Gojo, oblivious, tried to place his hands on Geto's shoulders.

"You...," he mumbled, shaking his head - his hands didn't feel the weight or the clothes, but they didn't go through either, and he'd learned that day what it meant to touch the void. 

"Not alive, but I guess I'm not dead either," Suguru grinned, scratching the back of his head. "Feels weird, to be honest," he said, looking at his hands - they weren't transparent, but barely resembled human flesh. "I don't want to pressure you, but you'd better make up your mind soon. I'm not thrilled with what these two are offering myself. I don't trust them too," Geto patted his friend on the shoulder, and Gojo could have sworn he could almost feel the touches. "But I can't be in limbo anymore either. So I'd love to drink a couple liters of tea, or retire. It depends on what you choose." 

Gojo didn't have time to say goodbye to Suguru or consult with him - his best friend scattered and disappeared, and he continued to stare at his empty hands, which had just been touched by Suguru. "If it eases your agony of conscience," Christian continued to press softly. "She and her accomplice killed more than a thousand people."

"Who is she?" the sorcerer asked perplexed, turning to look at the higher-ups.

"Please look closely at your student," Christian asked. "Do you know the origin of the dark patterns that are trying to kill him?" no matter how much Gojo scrutinized the lines, they refused to tell him about themselves - he shook his head slowly. "It is not only curses that exist on Earth that humans themselves have spawned. There is another threat, far more dangerous and coming from outside. And she is one of them," he said firmly, placing the folder at Megumi's feet. 

After hesitating, Gojo took it in his hands. "Unfortunately, these creatures are vulnerable where you can't go," the higher-up shook his head mournfully. "Here on our soil, they carefully hide their weak spot," Christian involuntarily touched the spot between his collarbones, and Gojo opened to the first page and was confronted with your picture. You were staring with open eyes straight into the camera, and the dark lines spreading across your skin burned brighter against the white background. "But that doesn't mean there's no access to it at all. They can show it willingly."

The sorcerer cocked his head sharply, realizing what the man was getting at. "Are you suggesting me to get her in the sack and kill her there?"

"Did you think we were going to make you fight for everyone's amusement? Not everything can be solved by force, sometimes you have to find other ways, and if sex is the only way for you to get close, you can do that too," Christian said dismissively. "In fact, you can find common ground without it. After all, she's just as lonely as you are."

"Who are you?" he asked, slamming the folder shut loudly and throwing it on the nightstand, but continuing to hold your picture in his hand.

"We are the ones who watch her and hold her bloodthirstiness in check," Christian explained. "However, it's getting harder every day," at that moment, Suguru's smile eclipsed his common sense - he gave his agreement with a short nod. Christian, grinning contentedly, adjusted his glasses. "As soon as she takes her last breath, your best friend will be back to you."

The two silhouettes were gone in a flash, making way for the blue sunset to spill over the room, making Gojo question his decision for a second. Taking a seat next to Megumi, he stared at your picture again - if the darkest night had eyes, they were yours. The monster must die - the conviction grew quieter by the second, and it wasn't destined to live a day.

[August 2, 2023, 01:43 am; hunters' hq]

Trying to catch and keep time, Gojo sat on the edge of a cliff, the very place where you had become almost friends the first time. The only thing that had changed was the light in the windows hidden among the rocks - it was gone. The bay was still as unruly, loud, its waves still crashing desperately against the rocks in the light of the distant stars and the worlds they hid. "Look, you just don't throw accusations around, okay?" the sorcerer turned to the sky, feeling foolish in trying to talk to his friend who wasn't here. There wasn't even a grave for him to visit. "Yeah, I dumped you for a girl. So what?" he snorted, pouting his lips and lowering his head.  

Gojo exhaled, playing with his intertwined fingers - he wasn't looking for advice, guidance, or scolding. "You know, you're the one who wanted to change the world according to your own vision, and the God complex is attributed to me for some reason," he mumbled frustratedly. "But I can't help but think that if I'd talked to you, if I'd paid attention to what's happening to you, all of this could've been avoided," he added in a quieter, mailed whisper. "I didn't... I saw something was wrong with you, but I didn't know you needed help. Because...," the sorcerer stammered, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "Well, you and I were the strongest, weren't we? I thought you could handle it on your own. So did I. I got so caught up in that training, and when I woke up, it was too late. "

In the strokes of bloody and bitter experience on the canvas of time, Gojo saw the truth years later - he didn't need the alliance of the two strongest, he just needed a person who would accept him without power. "I'll never know if anything would have changed if I had been there for you then," the sorcerer admitted frankly, lifting the gaze of his blue eyes back to the stars. "But now I'm sure I'll never give up. I will never leave her, no matter what she does. Forgive me for being so indecisive in the past," he said, rising to his feet. Gojo paused for a moment, still searching for a familiar name between the flickering, distant lights. "And thank you for being my best friend once." 

Turning around, Gojo headed for the house - on the basement floor he was greeted by familiar boxes covered in a layer of dust and the smell of acetone that never left. As he approached the workroom, he took hold of the doorknob and stopped, hesitating. From the other side he could hear a quiet, barely discernible fuss - entering the workroom, Gojo saw you digging into your laptop, humming something to yourself. The kettle was boiling on the nightstand, and two cups were next to you. He watched mesmerized as you jumped up and took the kettle and poured the boiling water into mugs. Gojo leaned against the closed door and slid slowly to the floor, watching as you put six spoonfuls of sugar into one of the mugs - he could hear the clinking of the spoon as you stirred the tea.

"Meg?" he asked deafly with fading hope.

"Sorry," the mechanical voice replied. "Nothing yet."

Gojo wish he could stand like that longer, holding onto the doorknob and hesitating to enter - he'd made up everything down to the cooling mug of tea on the table.  

The workroom was empty.        

next ⊳

[princessghuleh]

we need more fresh-out-of-the-pit aurora. i see so much newly summoned phantom and about how he's left out and confused and just wants to please his packmates and like YES absolutely but what about rory?!?!??! (under the cut because i went on a tangent)

first of all - her summon !!

phantom and aurora being bonded summon buddies means everything to me so yes they got summoned together in the same circle no i won't take criticism yes they're in love in every way possible

rory refuses to look at anyone but phantom for the first few days, no one can even get a good look at her face. the girls take her on the tour of their part of the den and all that but she looks at the ground the whole time and escapes to her room until phantom is done getting the tour and they hide together. she only wears his clothes (aka swiss' old clothes but she doesn't know that yet) for ages and they'll venture out together to get food and maybe explore their new environment a bit but apart from that you don't see them.

but then how about a bit after her summon when she gets more used to things? what about her being so tiny? in the pit it had its positives but topside? she's still getting used to everything being so big. she has no concept of fashion or hair or makeup so when she sees cumulus and her beautiful white curls she decides i want to do that! and lus ends up having to brush out all the knots she made for an hour. or how about this - she's absolutely TERRIFIED of the older ghouls. aether and omega? she is kind of used to. zeyphr? not yet. alpha? absolutely not. after only knowing of her own small multi ghoul size and her pale pink complexion her whole life in the pit, how do u expect her to react to the massive, grey skinned fire ghoul? that's a trick question, she won't deal with him. she disappears into thin air (she's half air ghoul!!!!) everytime she sees him.

but that's just the silly stuff, what about the angst???

seeing how close cirrus and cumulus are and desperately wanting to impress them, but overdoing it and embarassing herself so she doesn't talk to anyone but phantom for a week and the girls are so upset that she's back to square one?

or during that week - not being able to talk to phantom as much as she's like because aether has him practicing so much and she's still slightly intimidated by the older ghoul so she doesnt wanna annoy him by stealing away his student so she seeks out mist - the solitary ghoulette who only really hangs out by the shore occasionally - but mist wasn't even aware there was a new ghoulette so she freaks out at the sight of rory and rorys left all alone with no clue how to make friends

or her returning back to the abbey hours later when everyone was stressing about where the fuck the tiny ghoulette disappeared to and turns out she got lost in the forest trying to find flowers for the girls as an apology because she saw mountain give them bouquets and she's covered in scratches and mud and bug bites and her hair is full of leaves and sticks and she's sobbing her eyes out and phantom runs over to her and won't let anyone near her for the whole evening and snaps at anyone who comes too close

but eventually aether gets them both to calm down and the girls bring aurora into their part of the den and clean her off (with phantom there watching over her the whole time because he's not that calm yet) and tell her she doesn't have to impress them and put cream on all her bites and braid her hair and tell her how pretty she is and how they're so happy she's here and eventually swiss pulls phantom away to talk to him about not trying to murder his packmates over aurora because none of them are going to hurt her (phantom saw aurora being upset because she got lost looking for stuff for the girls and immediately thought they did it on purpose) and when he leaves the girls make a big pile of pillows and blankets and lay her down and let her get all her feelings out

and she's on her side and cirrus is at her back and cumulus at her front and sunny at her feet and they're all whispering sweet nothings to her as she cries silently at how comforting it all feels and falls asleep to lus humming a tune and wakes up and the whole pack sit down in the morning to talk it all through 💕💕💕💕

oh yes and she definitely saw cirrus eating salad one day and then mountain took her to the flower field just beyond the greenhouse and turned away for 2 seconds and she started trying to eat all the flowers because she thought that's what cirrus' salad was made out of

[helaelaemond]

Osferth and #35

White Mustang - Lana Del Rey - 'caught up in my dreams / you held me a little too tight in your arms / I couldn't stop the way I was feeling the day [...] I saw your white mustang.'

Based on some of the comments in s4-5...... Osferth has turned into quite the womaniser. So have some Osferth angst.

Osferth x established relationship!reader, allusions to smut

"He's got a different girl in every town."

"Some towns he's got half a dozen girls."

"You're nothing special to him, love. Don't pin your hopes on a man who doesn't want you like you want him. You won't be the one he chooses."

The summer sun is warm overhead as you wash the sheets with your friends. You push your hair back from your face and sigh. "I know. I know."

And you do know. In your little town, there are at least two other women whose beds he warms when he passes through. He doesn't talk about it openly, but it's not a secret, either. But he's your one and only. You hope that one day, he will change his mind. That he'll choose you.

The women washing with you give you pitying looks, and it makes your cheeks burn. Their advice is sage, despite the cut of their words, and anyone sensible would heed it. Love is rarely sensible, though.

Two days later, Osferth arrives. He clatters into the town square on his white horse with a smile that lights up the sky. You watch from the tavern doorway with your feet rooted to the ground and heart racing. He does not notice you. There is a flurry of activity around him, so why would he? His words carry across the distance in drips and drabs - hints of my lord Uhtred, four days past, and forces gathering to the north. Once upon a time, you would have listened with interest, but now? Now it is only the sound of his voice that you care for. It is not deep or high, mighty or weak. Mild and unremarkable, it is. It makes your soul sing.

That evening, you return to the tavern for supper. Your master has an arrangement with the establishment to feed his washer women twice a week in exchange for their services, and you have been in their number for a few years now. This summer's eve, fish is served to you. It is a fine meal. It does not distract you from the sight of Osferth across the hall with another woman in his lap. She is prettier than you. More lovely by far.

The food is ash in your mouth.

You know that you shouldn't try to approach him this evening and spoil his fun, for he is wild at heart, despite his calm disposition, and that has never been a mystery to you - but you can't help yourself. Jealousy curls in you like a serpent, and it warps your smile into a pained grimace that does not meet your warm eyes.

You approach his table where he is kept company by laughing men and women. His gentle gaze sharpens when he notices you approach, and his pretty lips part. "Oh. Good evening." Osferth says your name, and it sounds like a prayer. Such power he wields without even knowing. It kills your sorrow for a moment. "Would you care to join us?"

The woman in his lap looks at you as if you are truly welcome - no threat at all. You were girls together. She knows you. Knows you do not compare. His hand is on her thigh.

"No, thank you. I wished only to bid you a good evening, Osferth. Your company has been missed greatly."

"As has yours, kind lady."

What's the point in hiding your red eyes? Everyone here knows of your devotion to him. They pity you, for it is not you. It will never be you. But when it comes to Osferth, you have no pride. Only love. And so when your eyes sting and tears fill them, you only smile and nod, and excuse yourself. It's a moment of weakness that makes you look over your shoulder before leaving the tavern, and a moment of joy is your reward when you see him watching you go.

On your way home, you pass the stables and peek in. His pretty, white mare is boxed away for the night. You pass her an apple that you picked earlier and she takes it from you without flattening her ears back. It makes you feel close to him. His mount likes you. Or, at least, tolerates you. Much like him. Toleration. No devotion.

The moon is shining above you when there is a knock on your door. You wipe the tears from your eyes, and open it. There's rosemary oil in your hair.

Osferth stands in the threshold. "Forgive me for the hour." He holds out a handful of wildflowers. "For you."

Anyone with pride would send him away. You have no pride. "Osferth."

It's sickening how widely he smiles when you say his name. "I've missed your voice a great deal."

"I've missed saying your name."

"Say it again. Please?"

Your eyes sting again. "Osferth."

He kisses you.

What is worse, you think later, is that the kiss does not last long. For after a tender kiss, he closes the door and sits with his legs crossed on your bed, and he talks with you. For what feels like hours, you talk together of what has happened in your lives since the winter you saw him last.

"You're unlike anyone I've ever met," he murmurs as you lie, face to face, on your straw bed. He strokes the hair away from your face.

"Is that a good thing?" you ask, butterflies in your stomach.

"I think so. You make me... you make me feel understood."

"You are understood."

He whispers your name. His lips are gentle against yours, his hand warm on your waist. It slides down over your hip and around the back of your thigh, and he hooks your leg over his. "Please," comes his request between deep kisses. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you, too." You drag your fingernails across his scalp and it brings a moan to his throat. "Stay with me tonight."

"There is nowhere I'd rather be."

"Did you have her?" The answer doesn't matter really, for he can have you either way now, too. But the question escapes you before you have the chance to catch it.

"No," Osferth breathes. His hips slowly move against yours while he scatters kisses over your jaw and neck. "She tried, but... all I could see when she kissed me was you."

"She is prettier than me."

"Yes." He runs his nose through your hair and whimpers your name. "But you are dearer to me by far."

You make his toes curl later. You know you make him forget everything but your name, and it turns his tender touches harder and more demanding, until his sweet lovemaking devolves into rough fucking. You take from each other over and over, giving as much in return, too. In your arms, Osferth finds bliss. In his arms, you take the love he cannot give. It's too much. It's not enough.

Morning comes, and you roll over with an ache between your legs and longing in your heart. "Osferth," you murmur sleepily.

The empty room offers no answer. There is no trace of him left, and you wonder if you imagined it all. Across the town square, Osferth tucks a vial of rosemary oil into his bag. He cannot take you with him. But the memory of you is something he will keep.

[kammy-hyperfixation-central]

Now y'all I know that this latest chapter (chapter 153) has been angsty and heart-wrenching but can we just stop and appreciate how much better the art style has gotten and how actually so pretty Yeonwoo is in Haesol's POV like it's stupid it's crazy I haven't been well since I woke up this morning and reread the chapter because are you telling me that even though she thought he was a dude she thought he was the most beautiful person she has ever seen in her life!!!!

Like think about it everyone KANG HAESOL thought Yeonwoo was the most beautiful person she had ever seen!!!

I don't even need her to say it to us you can just tell how absolutely smitten she was from the first moment she saw him based on that first panel!!!

That panel alone of him looking so good like uughhh! That look of surprise and shock as he looks up at her and his big eyes!!!!!

The expression and everything like uuufghhhh! Just oh my God he was Radiating submissive and breedable and I understand her for that because me too!!!

ME FUCKING TOOO!!!

He looked so good in her POV that it's actually wild Haesol is absolutely smitten with him. (LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT BABY!) And you don't even have to tell me she is smitten because I can tell.

What is the icing on the cake is that she was so surprised by the intensity of her own feelings that she thought "Okay this isn't okay. I'm going to just never confront these feelings ever". Then she just sees him without his umbrella and says… "Just talking to him won't hurt" (Her fate was sealed then and there)

This just once again reinforces my headcanon that Haesol's intensity when it comes to her feelings for Yeonwoo is so much and so immense that she is terrified of it herself.

Throughout the manhwa, we get glimpses of this! And recently with the way Esol has emphasized the way Haesol stares at Yeonwoo you cannot tell me she is not obsessed with him in the entirely unhealthy way tops are obsessed with their bottoms because it is exactly that. I KNOW THAT LOOK ANYWHERE HAESOL I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE (She's a freak everyone a freak she wants him so bad it's making her insane)

She is entirely obsessed with him in that way and I am actually foaming at the mouth, wheezing, and going batshit insane because it's crazy!!!

Never have I seen someone more down bad and I am actually on cloud nine.

The angst is also great and in my humble opinion, this breakup is a good thing because their relationship started off on the worst footing a relationship could. Yeonwoo confessed to Haesol, sure, and yeah she may have accepted but the things that you typically do when someone confesses to you are things that they did not do.

Haesol did not affirm that she likes him back and instead added the condition that they need to keep their relationship a secret which was going to become the building blocks for Yeonwoo and his insecurity in their relationship.

Yeonwoo for all his monologue about how much he likes her after that moment he never really says it again. Their differing love languages mixed with the fact that they receive love in different ways meant that a breakup was going to happen eventually. ESPECIALLY because they both think so highly of the other and never want to disappoint the other.

So even though this breakup is devastating don't worry cuz they're going to get back together. This is literally their romance they are going to get back together. So all is well yall. It is a good thing that they broke up, however, because now they get to start back at square one of their relationship and they are going to set the necessary foundations needed so their relationship actually flourishes in the future.

In the meantime let's all fan girl but how pretty these two are because come on they're so pretty.

[marivoid]

Entry 34

Day 228

Since the Angel won't be in for a few days, I decided that I would find a "Nook in the Wall" so to speak. Small shops that are hidden to the normal eye and one has to go out of their way to find it. Something that the people back in my G.U.I.D.E. used to speak so much about.

I was hoping to find one of these mysterious hidden shops.

And find it I did. Well. Actually, my growling stomach did.

As I sit here writing this update from a very comfy seat in a small bakery, I have a few things to update. One, apparently there are people that are not mortal. Two... Brian is a surprisingly good lookout.

When I first got here, I was greeted by a cozy little bakery. I hadn't seen a bakery since... Well, not important to today. As I made my way along, just enjoying myself and the sight of the bakery, a woman shouted at me over a tiny, head sized square in the wooden wall.

"Be right out there, Love! My pin's being downright awful at the moment!"

And by pin... She meant a rolling pin with one of its handles broken clean off.

But I will not lie. When I saw this woman... Something about her threw me off. At a brief glance, this woman looks kind! Like an absolute sweetheart of a woman, working her bum off every day for her bakery. But... Goodness, it's something I can't explain. Her eyes seem to be too perfect, her face too symmetrical when staring at her head on, her ears are so long and pointy... And the massive wings on her back.

Apparently people can have REAL wings. The Crashlands get even more interesting every day. And of course, she wasn't complete without an odd mechanical crow clinging to her shoulder.

"What can I get for you? Got some scones, a few donuts if you got an itchen for something sweet! Or something salty? I got scavengers in a tarp if you want some of those!" Her voice was heavily accented with a dialect from a VERY old ago. (I think Australian? I can't remember, those text books were aged ago. And I think scavengers in a tarp are like pigs in a blanket, but... I didn't ask to find out.)

"I guess just a scone would do? Something small and... I think..." I kept getting distracted by that haunting blue eye. "Your crow seems... Friendly." (I did not think he was friendly. At all.)

"What do you mean?" Her head had whipped around to glare at the robotic Crow, shooting him a look of some kind. (I think I was still dealing with the fact that this woman's whole head could turn on a DIME!) "Ohhh! Brian! He ain't nothing but all beak, no talons." She had assured me her head flipped right back around to look at him. "Now, back to what you were ordering?"

"A scone would be nice and if you have it, coffee? I haven't had a cup in forever." (It had been nearly a year at the time of me writing this. Coffee is not easy to come by!)

"Alright, love. Go ahead and take a seat, I'll call for you when you're ready. Could I get your name for the order?"

I nearly gave it to her. It seemed so simple. Just to give a little name. But there was that odd feeling again. Something just didn't feel right. Like there was a second meaning behind those brown eyes of hers.

"Just 67 works. You know how names are in the Crashlands! Never give em if you don't ever see em again!"

Her eyes lingered on me a bit too long but she did eventually nod and get to work gathering the items. I ducked away to a table after a few customers stumbled on through and waited for a bit. It was just nice to sit down for once and enjoy the smell of baked goods and not need to worry about acid rain or Stranglers trying to get me.

However... That peace did not last long.

That mechanical crow came straight over to me. Piercing blue eyes constantly staring at me.

"... Hello, Brian. Um... Pretty bird wants a cookie? No, crows can't eat cookies can they? Uhm... Don't know about scones. Maybe? You are a robot."

A robotic caw. Small, scratchy, definitely not right. Like a broken voice box.

"Well... That is no good. Voice box going a little haywire? Hold on a minute." I'm still ever so grateful I'm a collector of most things that are considered "junk." Because what did I happen to find in my bag?

Three different voice boxes, ranging in sizes. And one just so happened to be very small.

"Aha. I knew I had something." I am not lying when I write this, I swear I'm not. But he just hopped over to the voice box and SWALLOWED IT. No undoing the metal plates, no double checking to make sure it fits. Just gulped it down like a tasty summer treat.

"Brian, you can choke on that I will have you know-"

Another caw. Much louder. Much clearer. And Brian himself seemed to be a lot happier if those happy jumps were anything to judge by.

"Glad you're happy, Brian." By that time my order of scones had been called out by the odd women. Just as I was about to make a move for my order, Brian jumped up and (I swear) perched on my shoulder. Just made himself right at home.

"I do hope you know I'm not sharing my scones. Or coffee. If they have some dirty oil we'll get it for you."

Another caw and a tiny peck to the temple.

"Alright, alright! Clean oil. Hot?"

Another peck.

"Cold it is." And from there I managed to get my food and my first cup of coffee in a LONG time. I actually was able to enjoy my little moment for about an hour (Yes, I did give in and let Brian steal a couple of crumbs of scones) before that odd woman came to sit in front of me.

"You know Brian doesn't like anyone, yeah? Doesn't even like me, love! Never perched on anyone but that old stick behind the counter. All he does is go up to people, caw, and fly straight back."

"And nobody helped him before? All the little fella needed was a voice box change." And that got a whole coo from Brian. A happy one.

"Is that really it? A voice box?" Her eyes met Brian's. "Oh you little turd, here I was thinking you were sick! Been taking care of you for a while now! You've been living in birdy retirement this whole time!"

"Birdy retirement? He's been retired?" Who would possibly retire a mechanical crow?

The woman rested her chin on hand. "A couple years ago, a man walked in with Brian. Said that he didn't want the poor bird to hurt anyone. Haven't seen him since. He's had that scratchy voice this entire time, so I thought it was untreatable! It didn't help that Brian is a sassy little thing that hates mechanics!"

An angry caw this time. "I... Don't think you were supposed to take him to a mechanic. Isn't there maybe a vet around? Or maybe somebody who specializes in bots?"

"Unfortunately not, no. None that I know of." The woman and I spoke for a few more minutes, asking one another questions. But the bell eventually went off and more customers poured in.

"Welp, love, I best take care of them. How about you take Brian around, yeah? Old bird has been cooped up in here for a while and should get to see more of the Crashlands!"

I had choked on my coffee at that point. "I-I'm sorry?"

"Bring him around." She waved her hand easily. "Show him the Crashlands. I can't, I got a store to run! And my ring only goes so far! But you can go in and out as you wish. I think that's only fair, hmm?"

"Your... Ring? What exactly is a ring?"

"Nothin' you should worry yourself over. Take all the time you need, Hun. But bring Brian along. He's a good companion to have. And you won't be lonely once you leave the city!" And with that, she had turned right around and walked off to tend to her customers.

As of writing in this now, it's about two in the afternoon. Brian is still on my shoulder and has refused to leave this entire time. He's coming with me whether I like it or not!

I guess he's not all that bad. And he's good for getting a higher look at the sky!

When I left the bakery, I only then noticed the sign.

"Stress' Sweets and Salties."

Guess that woman did have a name.

I still have time to kill. Still two more days. IF that poster is accurate.

I just really need to find the Angel.

I need to find the Doctor.

-MLW and Brian

-The Crashlands.