#also its the one thing everyone immediately jumps to when they have even a little inkling someones done something wrong

[infintyonhigh]

not to make a mountain out of a molehill here but like, i think thats why the discourse around beauty standards online irks me a little bit. so often u see anyone trying to conform to them framed as morally weak and often, those same critics will turn around and make fun of the smallest, most random aspects of someone's appearance.

im not saying beauty standards aren't cruel or unjust. or that the systems that put them in place shouldn't be dismantled. but i think we also need to acknowledge that sometimes twisting yourself into any kind of desirability mold that will fit is a way of surviving

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Dancing with Yuutsum

SUMMARY: What would happen if you and your tsum found Vil’s, Idia’s and Malleus’s tsums dancing together in the Courtyard? You discover that Idia-tsum is very clingy with your tsum, Vil-tsum gets upset pretending that it doesn't bother it, and worse, Malleus-tsum is openly jealous.

CHARACTERS: Vil Schoenheit, Vil’s tsum; Idia’s tsum, Malleus’s tsum (+Epel Felmier; Ortho Shroud; Sebek Zigvolt) And Malleus at the end.

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader

WORD COUNT: 1.600 words

COMMENTS: I got this idea while playing Twisted Tsumderland 3. After having written so much about Yuutsum I immediately had an idea to use this twistune.

Maybe the title is not quite accurate because most of it is not about the dance but it was the name of the twistune. 😅

I hope you enjoy ❤️

Cooking with Yuutsum - Azul Ashengrotto, Azul’s tsum; Kalim Al-Asim, Kalim’s tsum (+Floyd Leech, Jamil Viper)

Your tsum seemed curious about its surroundings and you asked it if it wanted to go for a walk so you could show it around the school campus. Your tsum happily and enthusiastically agreed.

During your tour you couldn't help but pass by the Courtyard where you hear music. Curious, you follow it and see Epel, Ortho and Sebek dancing with Idia’s, Vil’s and Malleus’s tsums. Vil and Idia's tablet were also there watching them.

Your Tsum moved happily in your arms and seemed to want to join them, but you arrived when they were already at the end of the dance. Your Tsum felt a little sad and you tried to cheer it up by saying that even if they don't dance more it can still go to greet them. Your tsum does so and jumped out of your arms to hop over to the other tsums.

“It can't be helped.” Vil sighed. “You and my peanut were fine Epel, but the others continued dancing as clumsy as they pleased.”

“Hm? Something is approaching with little hops. Another tsum?” Idia's voice says through the tablet. “Damn, my tsum is really unlucky today. Whee hee hee. I'm so glad I sent my tablet instead of going out in person. Whose will it be this-”

Your tsum finally gets close enough for everyone, including Idia's tablet camera, to see it and it greets everyone with that happy tsum sound.

Before any other person or tsum could greet it back, Idia-tsum jumped straight at your tsum to hug it, but with an expression as if asking for its protection.

“W-W-WHAT IS IT DOING?!” Idia asks in an embarrassed panic.

“I don't know.” Ortho responds, curious. “But it seems like it's nesting in (Y/N)'s tsum. It's actually cute.”

You, already next to your and Idia’s tsums, open your mouth to ask yourself the same thing when the sky suddenly turns dark. You all look up and see storm clouds that appeared out of nowhere when the sky was clear seconds ago.

“My Tsum-liege! What's wrong?”

You all look back at the ground, at Malleus-tsum who is glaring angrily at the two tsums at your feet. A muffled thunder is heard and Idia-tsum only hugs your tsum even tighter in fear, which makes Malleus-tsum even more angry and a lightning bolt strikes nearby.

Your tsum looks at you, nods with its little head to Idia-tsum and then to Malleus-tsum. You understand what it wants to ask you and you bend down to pick up Idia-tsum. It gets scared when it feels hands suddenly catch it and doesn't want to let go of your tsum, until it calms Idia-tsum enough to free itself from its grip. Only when Idia-tsum realizes that you are the one holding it does it stop trying to escape and nestles into your arms in fear so that you can protect it.

Meanwhile your tsum hops to Malleus-tsum. As your tsum gets closer to it the clouds begin to disappear. Until Sebek suddenly gets between the two tsums.

“HALT! No one can approach my tsum-liege without permis-” Another bolt of lightning struck nearby. Sebek looked at Malleus-tsum who was looking at him with displeasure. “AH! MY DEEPEST APOLOGIES MY TSUM-LIEGE!” He bowed deeply. “I was unaware this tsum had your consent.” And he got out of the way.

Malleus-tsum raised its head with dignity and walked the remaining short distance to your tsum. Once in front of your tsum, Malleus-tsum didn't hug it, it waited for your tsum to do it first. And it did, touching its cheek to Malleus-tsum’s and rubbing affectionately. It was a matter of a couple of seconds before the storm clouds dissipated as quickly as they had appeared.

“Hum... Am I the only one who thinks this is some kind of subliminal message or foreshadowing or something?” Idia questions.

“What? You don't think just because these peanuts have physical similarities to us that they are revealing something hidden about us, do you?” Vil counterposes with a sarcastic smile.

“Where are you going?” Epel asks Vil-tsum who started walking down the gray path away from them, with its head held high and his eyes closed as if it was upset but still prideful.

Your tsum looks at it and gives Malleus-tsum a kiss before hoping towards Vil-tsum and stopping right in front of it. Your tsum made a happy tsum sound, but Vil-tsum turned its face away and continued walking after going around your tsum.

“Someone got sulky.” Idia commented in a low voice and chuckled to himself.

Meanwhile, Malleus-tsum came to you, stopped for a moment to look at you, and then suddenly jumped into your arms as well. This startled Idia-tsum again, but Malleus-tsum patted it to let it know that everything was okay, and the two of them snuggled up to you.

Your tsum tried to get closer to Vil-tsum again, but it kept looking away. Until your tsum starts making a sound and a face like it wanted to cry. Only then did Vil-tsum finally look at it, but was still sulking. Your tsum slowly got closer to it and touched its little nose with Vil-tsum's. Seeing that it didn't move away again, your tsum slowly snuggled into it, as if it was apologizing. Vil-tsum finally gives in and accepts the apology, returning the affection.

“Does your tsum have any special powers or is there something else you want to tell us about all of this?” Epel asks you with a mocking smile.

“This is ridiculous.” Vil claps his hands twice and his tsum looks at him. “Let's go, peanut. It's time to go back to Pomefiore. Unlike you, I have a schedule to keep.”

Vil-tsum looked at your tsum, then at you and quickly hopped towards you until it gave one last jump that ended with it on top of your head.

“Are you disobeying me?” Vil seemed to really start to get upset. “After everything you did to my beauty products and my patience, you still have the nerve to-” He was surprised by your tsum suddenly jumping into his arms. He stopped talking to concentrate on catching it.

He looked at your tsum who smiled at him with its little eyes. The corner of his mouth seemed to form a small smile. Then your tsum jumped onto his shoulder.

“And what do you think you're doing?” Vil asked, letting slip in his tone of voice that he was found it a little amusing. Your tsum began to rub its little face against Vil's cheek. “Hey, be careful with the makeup. My products are durable, but if you rub too hard you'll smudge it and get yourself dirty.” Vil picked up your tsum and took it off his shoulder. It looked slightly sad and disappointed, but Vil smiled and kissed it on the forehead and your tsum made that happy sound again.

“Are you still glad that you stayed in your room, big brother?” Ortho asked the tablet. “Your tsum looks very happy in (Y/N)'s arms. And that adorable mini version of them could be snuggling up to you instead of Vil Schoenheit.”

“I had to be delusionally full of myself to think that someone or something would choose me over a hot supermodel.” Idia said in that sullen, giving-up voice.

“Hmm... a little help...?” You asked, holding a tsum in each arm and letting another balance on top of your head.

The only way to make the tsum leave you alone was to promise that you and your tsum would later stop by each of their dorms. That and dance with them before you leave since your tsum was unable to participate in the dance they had done before.

Idia-tsum was the only one who didn't seem very happy with the idea, but you and your tsum managed to convince it, because now it would have the opportunity to dance with you and your tsum. But even so, it only did that for the two of you.

All the tsums wanted to dance with you and/or your tsum, besides Epel, Ortho and Sebek (although the latter didn't want to admit it) also wanted to dance with your tsum. So you ended up doing a dance with partner swapping so everyone has the opportunity to dance with both of you.

After the dance the hardest one to convince to leave you and your tsum to continue the walk was Idia-tsum. It didn't want to be separated from the two of you, especially your tsum.

“Come on Tsum-shi, this is starting to get cringe.” Idia asked it.

The other two tsums went their separate ways but not without giving you and your tsum one last kiss on the cheek. Or what resembled a kiss since tsums don't have mouths.

After leaving with his tsum-liege and meeting Malleus again, Sebek told him that your tsum had come to greet his tsum and the others. If he doesn't tell many details of what happened, Malleus will only feel sorry for having been separated from them and not being able to be present at that moment, but he will be happy that his tsum could meet yours.

But if Sebek makes the mistake of telling him about your tsum's interactions with the other tsums and especially with Vil, he'll have to apologize so to stop the thunderstorm that had begun to form above them.

As you would visit them in Diasomnia later, he waited to see the interaction between your tsums and satisfied with what he witnessed he did not touch on the subject of what happened with Vil and the other tsums.

More Twisted Tsumderland content:

Yuutsum 1 (Riddle; Cater; Leona; Jack; Floyd; Epel; Sebek)

Yuutsum 2 (Deuce; Azul; Jade; Kalim; Rook; Ortho; Lilia)

Yuutsum 3 (Ace; Trey; Ruggie; Jamil; Vil; Idia; Malleus; Silver)

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[katsu28]

first time for everything

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: a lot of things were in the cards for oscar’s first home race. he just wasn’t expecting confessing his love for you to be one of them. (3.3k)

warnings: maybe a swear word idk

a/n: my first oscar fic! not sure if i've got his personality down quite yet but hopefully i've done him justice :)

“You’re nervous.” 

Oscar tore his attention from his phone camera, where he was messing with the swoop of his hair for what had to be the fifth time. He shook his head, though you could probably see right through him. “No, I’m not—I just didn’t sleep that well last night.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you were nervous for today.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“It’s okay to be nervous, Oscar. I’d be more worried if you weren’t.”

You were right, he was nervous about a lot of things—this weekend was his first home race, the first race you were able to attend during his time as a driver for McLaren. But the first thing he learned from competing at this level was to never let his nerves show. Put up a front, make it seem like he was cool as a cucumber so people wouldn’t doubt him, let his skills on the track do all the talking. 

Normally, Oscar was good about that. But you could see right through him. You knew him well enough to know how he was feeling and how to help, even if he himself didn’t quite understand it. 

The story of you and Oscar was quite the cliche, really. He knew of you through a friend of a friend and was instantly intrigued without even meeting you, managed to reach out, and the rest was history. 

You hadn’t even met each other face to face until a month into your constant texting, but when you did finally find the opportunity to meet up in person, it was like you’d both found the other half of yourselves in each other. While Oscar was more of a straight to the point, cut and dry kind of guy, you managed to bring him out of his shell a little bit, to get him to expand his horizons (within reason, of course). 

You were the opposite—always smiling, always happy to try new things, warm and sunshine-y and everything in between. Oscar toned you down without holding you back, reminded you to take a breather before immediately jumping into the next exciting thing, to enjoy what you had while you had it so you wouldn’t miss anything. 

He’d only just gained the courage to ask you out a few months back, but it only seemed fitting that you were here with him for his first race in front of his home crowd.

“It’s a lot to process.” Oscar admitted, letting his shoulders creep up towards his ears in a shrug. You leaned against him, looping an arm through the crook of his elbow and slipping your hand into his for a reassuring squeeze, pressing your chin against his bicep. “I just don’t wanna let anyone down, y’know? Wanna make everyone proud.” 

“You’re going to do great. I promise.” You said firmly, reaching up to push his hair into its perfect place. Oscar nuzzled into your touch on instinct, letting you cradle his cheek in the palm of your hand. Your thumb swept over his cheek a few times, lulling him into a sense of contentment. 

“Forget me. How are you feeling?”

“I’m excited! I’ve never done something like this before.” You replied, letting your hand drop. “And kinda nervous, but it’ll be fine, right?” 

“Yeah, ‘course it will.” 

“Have any sage words of wisdom for a first time paddock goer?” 

“Oh, you know me. Keep your head down, walk fast. There’s gonna be a lot of cameras, lots of fans, they’re all gonna want something from you. I’ll be with you as long as I can, so I’ll be there in case things start to get out of hand.” 

“Can I say hi to the fans?” 

“If you want to, yeah. They already love you.” 

That was another thing Oscar had to be worried about. Today was a day full of firsts, it felt like, because it was also the first time you’d be making your public debut as a couple. You’d already become a fan favorite when the two of you were just friends (two very mutually pining friends, no less), but making your relationship paddock official seemed daunting. 

Oscar wasn’t at all worried about what people would think. In fact, he didn’t really care. He was happier than he’d been in a long time and nothing would change that. What he was worried about was how you’d be treated. Oscar loved the fans, he really did, but there were always that handful who thought they knew him—knew what was best for him. Knew who was best for him. 

If he could protect you from any harm that could possibly be aimed your way, he’d do it in a heartbeat, but things could get so very unpredictable out there. The best he could do was keep you close. 

Your grip on Oscar’s hand tightened just the slightest bit at seeing the sheer amount of people outside the window. Noticing this, he rubbed his thumb along your knuckles soothingly. 

“You don’t have to come along.” He said softly. You tore your eyes away from the passing crowds to look at him. “There’s a back entrance, you can go through there.” 

“No, it’s alright! I’ll be fine.” 

“You sure? It’s okay if you're having second thoughts, sweetheart.” 

“I’m not, I promise. It’s kind of a lot, but nothing I can’t handle.” You said firmly, more for yourself than anything. Oscar squeezed your hand with a soft smile. “If you can do it, I can do it.” 

“There you go. You’ll be the star of the show. Everyone’ll be like Oscar Piastri who? There’s the most beautiful girl in the world, and just some guy.” 

You had to bite back a laugh at his words paired with the deadpan expression gracing his face. Oscar always seemed to know how to get you to relax. 

“Well, you’re the hottest just some guy I’ve ever seen.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, smiling at how his fair skin immediately flamed hot under your lips. 

Despite your previous hesitation, you looked entirely in your element as you made the walk hand in hand, looking around with bright eyes and an even brighter smile. Oscar couldn't help but watch you take it all in, not bothering to mask the awe in his eyes as he did so. He wouldn’t be surprised if photos of him looking at you made it to fan Twitter by the end of the day. 

Oscar was whisked away as soon as you got through to hospitality, giving him barely enough time to say goodbye to you before he was shuttled to meeting after meeting, press conferences and pre race interviews, a thousand things to do in the few hours he had before he had to get ready for free practice. 

He was already exhausted by the time he made it back to his driver’s room, pushing open the door with a heaving sigh. You glanced up at the commotion he was making, smiling at him warmly and setting aside your phone.

“Hey, you,” You hummed, holding out your arms towards Oscar as soon as he closed the door behind him. 

“Hi.” Oscar sighed, folding you into his embrace as comfortably as he could in the cramped alcove. There was barely enough room for one person on the bench, let alone you and your boyfriend with his broad shoulders. You shifted sideways to solve the problem, throwing your legs over Oscar’s lap, to which his hand immediately came to rest on your knee. “I missed you.” 

“Wish I could say the feeling was mutual.” You teased. Oscar rolled his eyes goodnaturedly, giving your leg a gentle pinch that you giggled at before leaning in to press a quick peck to his cheek. “I missed you too.” 

“What did you get up to while I was gone?” 

“Oh, so much! I took a walk around the paddock just to check everything out, and I kinda got lost, but someone helped me find my way back eventually.” You shrugged, not noticing the way Oscar’s eyebrows flew up into his hairline. 

“Wait, you got lost? Why didn’t you call me?” 

“You were busy.” You said, very as-a-matter-of-factly. He blinked at you slowly, a blank expression present on his face. “I’m a big girl, Osc, I can find my way around just fine.”  

That made Oscar falter. You were right. He cared so much, especially about you—so much so that sometimes he forgot you were entirely capable of taking care of yourself. 

“A lot of people asked to take pictures with me. Me! Isn’t that crazy?” You exclaimed, beaming bright. “I promised one of them your sweaty fireproofs in return, but that’s beside the point.” 

“You what?” He spluttered, eyes widening almost comically. His fingers froze in their fiddling with the rings adorning your fingers. 

“I’m kidding, obviously. Lighten up, Oscie, jeez.” 

Oscar rolled his eyes playfully. “Right, well I’m glad you’re having fun.” 

“You know what would make this day even more fun?” 

“I don’t think I want to.” 

You stuck your tongue out at him before continuing. “Can I meet Charles Leclerc? Is that something you can pull off?” 

Technically speaking, it would be extremely easy for him to pull off. All he really had to do was bring you over to the Ferrari motorhome for a quick introduction, and he was sure Charles would take a liking to you, just like every other driver you’d gotten to meet so far. You had that kind of persona; one that made people want to get to know you. 

Oscar quite liked that about you. What he wouldn’t like as much was you being immediately wooed by the driver’s seemingly irresistible French charm. And yeah, you were Oscar’s girlfriend and Charles also had a girlfriend of his own, but still. Nobody wanted to see the girl they loved fawning over another man, even one as cool as Charles Leclerc.

But Oscar would never tell you that, because he loved you, and he’d do anything to make you happy. 

“Uh…yeah, sure. I could probably get you an intro, if that’s something you really want.” He heard himself saying, scratching the back of his neck. His heart thudded a little harder in his chest at the way your face lit up. 

“Really?” 

Oscar smiled tightly. “Why not? D’you wanna go now? There’s some time before we need to be on track.” 

“That would be amazing, Osc.” 

“Right then, let’s go.” He nudged your legs off him, heaving himself to his feet with a groan that would usually be associated with someone much older than him. You threaded your fingers through his as soon as he finished popping all his joints like an old man, following his lead out of the room and the motorhome, all the way to the bright Ferrari red building a few doors down. 

Luckily, Charles was sitting at one of the tables in the main area, so you didn’t have to look far to find him. 

“Charles, mate, you got a second?” 

The aforementioned Monegasque tore his attention from his phone upon hearing Oscar’s voice, an easygoing smile already present on his face. “Oscar! What can I do for you, mate?” His eyes found you next, and he nodded politely. “Hello!” 

“Hi.” You said quietly, clinging to Oscar’s hand tightly. This feeling was foreign to you. You’d never been so stunned into silence by someone before, but maybe that was because you’d never met someone as well known as the Charles Leclerc. 

“This is my girlfriend. It’s her first time in the paddock and she’s a big fan of yours, figured I could introduce the two of you. Y/N, Charles. Charles, Y/N.” 

“Ah, yes, I’ve heard much about you!” Charles exclaimed, popping to his feet. He moved forward to embrace you, wrapping you in a warm hug like he’d known you for a long time, let alone just met you not even fifteen seconds ago. 

Oscar never really understood the whole hugging thing Charles had going on. Maybe it was a French thing. Either way, the hug seemed to have shaken you out of whatever starstruck daze you were in, because you straightened up. 

Charles smiled warmly. “Welcome to your first race. I trust they are treating you well over at McLaren?” 

“There’s definitely a few perks.” You replied, returning his infectious smile. You squeezed Oscar’s hand as you said it, and part of him felt a smidge proud that you considered him a perk. Charles laughed goodnaturedly. “I hate to sound so forward, but I wanted to say I love your music. The way you play piano is…the only way I can think to describe it is beautiful.” 

“Oh wow, you—thank you! That means a lot, thank you. Do you play?” 

“A little bit, but I haven’t had much time to sit at the bench lately.” You replied, giving a haphazard shrug. Charles nodded sympathetically, like he understood the troubles of carving out time to play. “D’you mind if I ask you a bit more about your inspiration while I’ve got you?”

“Of course, yes, yes, I would love to talk about it!” 

Oscar touched a hand to the small of your back to snag your attention for a second. He liked music as much as the next person, but not as much as you and Charles, it seemed. “I’ll be over there.” 

You nodded, popping up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek before returning to your animated conversation with Charles. 

Now, Oscar wasn’t a jealous guy by any means. On the contrary he was always quite calm and collected, so he thought he’d be fine. Secretly a little miffed, sure. It was nothing he couldn’t handle, but actually seeing you go starry eyed while talking to Charles sparked something inside him. He didn’t know how hard he was squeezing the can in his hand until he felt liquid trickling down the sleeve of his fireproofs. 

“Ah, shit.” He muttered, shaking out his arm frustratedly. 

“Stare at her any harder and she might burst into flames, mate.” 

Oscar glanced to his left to see Lando standing there, arms crossed over his chest, expectant brow arched. 

“Dunno know what you’re talking about.” Oscar grumbled, moving to toss the now crumpled can into the nearest rubbish bin. Lando looked wildly unconvinced. “What?” 

“Don’t feed me that shit, Oscar, you’re way too easy to read for me to believe you’re not absolutely fucking in love with Y/N.” 

Oscar made an offended noise from the back of his throat. “I am not easy to read.” 

“Mate, you’re the openest book in the history of open books right now.” 

“Openest isn’t a word.” 

“Whatever! Stop deflecting.” Lando scoffed, wrinkling his nose. “You love her. Tell her that.” 

“I can’t. I mean, I shouldn’t.” 

“Why not?” 

“What if it’s too soon? What if she doesn’t feel the same way yet?” 

“You’re kidding, right? Please tell me you’re kidding.” Lando groaned, letting his head tilt back in exasperation. Oscar squinted at him, unamused. “Oh, you’re serious? Mate, come on. Just today, in the half a day I’ve known her, I’ve seen the way she looks at you when you’re not looking. I see the way you look at her when she’s not looking. It’s obvious. You’re both obnoxiously in love with each other, and it’s sickening.” 

The corners of Oscar’s mouth lifted into a grin. “Really?” 

“Oh my god, yes, really. I mean honestly, how dense can you be?” 

“A lot, it seems.” Oscar cast another glance at you, feeling a lot better than he had a few minutes ago. You were laughing at something Charles had said, but now all that was running through his mind was how pretty you looked when you laughed. How happy you looked talking to a person you held a lot of admiration for. Professional admiration, nothing more. 

Part of him felt a little guilty. He should’ve been supportive the whole time, not sulking around being a jealous little prick thinking you would ever choose Charles over him. 

“No point in overthinking it now, bro.” 

“Since when did you become such a wise old man?” 

“Oi, watch it, you muppet. I’m only two years older than you.” Lando huffed, rolling his eyes. “And I’ve always been wise, thank you for noticing.” 

“Sure you have.” 

“Tell her.” 

Oscar nodded once, accepting the clap on the shoulder Lando gave him. “I will. Thank you.” 

“Of course. And if you ever need any more advice, come on down to Lando’s love shack, where you can get—” 

“Leave now, I’m begging you.” Lando took the hint, wandering away to go wreak havoc somewhere else, leaving Oscar alone with his own thoughts as he waited for you to finish up. It wasn’t long until you were making your way back over, practically aglow with excitement as you approached him. “Made a new best friend, have you?” 

You snorted, clearly amused. “Oh, of course. We’ve already arranged to go on a double date when we’re all in Monaco at the same time.” 

“Ha ha, very funny. You do know Ferrari’s one of our top competitors, right?” Oscar laced his fingers through yours once more, letting your joined hands swing between the two of you as you walked. 

“You know what they say—keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. Consider my blossoming friendship with Charles your way into the heart and soul of Ferrari’s strategies. You’re welcome.” 

You were just joking, of course, and it made Oscar smile. Lando was right. Oscar was in love with you. He tugged you off the main path suddenly, leading you to a more secluded area between motorhomes. 

“Osc? What’re you—” You were entirely cut off by him stopping in his tracks, and before you could comprehend what was happening, he was kissing you. He curled a hand around the back of your neck, the other coming up to cup your cheek gently. 

It was by all means a sweet kiss, but a completely unexpected one nonetheless. Oscar had never been a public display of affection sort of guy before, so for him to kiss you out of the blue where anyone could see you…well, let's just say there was a first time for everything.

To say you were taken aback was an understatement. You let out a noise of surprise, but returned his kiss wholeheartedly as soon as you realized what was happening. 

“That was new.” You breathed as soon as he pulled away, splaying your palms across the firm plane of his chest to steady yourself after he’d kissed the living daylights out of you. Oscar’s eyes fluttered open slowly, a dazed grin stretching his lips. “You feeling alright, babe?” 

“I love you.” 

Immediately, you beamed, lighting up faster than a bonfire on a warm Melbourne night. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Well, it’s about damn time you said it.” You poked his chest playfully, stifling a giggle at the way he did the biggest double take ever at your words. 

“You—hang on, what?” 

“I was waiting for you to be the one to say it first.” You shrugged. Oscar’s brow scrunched in confusion now. “Didn’t wanna scare you off and lose one of the best things in my life.” 

“So…you do feel the same way?” 

You reached up, smoothing a stray curl away from his forehead fondly. “Do I love you? ‘Course I do. I think I’ve loved you since the first time we met.” 

“That was a good one, I should’ve said that. You’re so much better at this than I am.” 

“What can I say? I’ve got the best just some guy as my inspiration.” 

“I see what you did there. That’s gonna become a thing now, isn’t it?” 

“Oh, Osc,” You sighed, patting his cheek affectionately. “It already has.” 

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[boozerbooz]

𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐏 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐓

𝐎𝐰𝐞𝐧 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Reader is an adult but younger than Owen, Reader has a special connection with Herbivores (Parasaurs, Triceratops, and Brachiosaurus’s), Reader has a special connection to a Parasaur like Owen has with the raptors.

Timeline: Before the Indominous Rex escapes

M/n was having one of those days, I mean, he had to wake up early, go to the Gallimimus Valley, and take care of the herbivores. He didn’t really mind it, the job was perfect for him! Especially because he had bonds with the Parasaur’s. Everyone at the park was.. surprised to say the least, everyone had been busy with work so they didn’t really listen to the other workers talking about him. Not until someone who was talking about him caught a certain persons eye..

Owen Grady, the only one who could “talk” with the Velociraptors. Sure it was a dangerous job, but the Velociraptors grew up with the man, so of course they built a bond. The Raptors were well known around the park for their agile, speedy, and fierce body. So as soon as he heard a coworker say another person could technically speak to dinosaurs, he immediately wanted to know who.

And thats when the both of you, along with Claire, met. Claire had been leading Owen to where you were, which was the Gallimimus Valley, Once they arrived, you were calming a fight down between two Parasaur’s. “Here we are, watch this.” Claire said.

“Shhh, be calm..” M/n said, both of his hands on different sides, holding a stop motion. He looked straight into one of the Parasaur’s eyes and moved his hand to point to an empty spot with a different herd of Parasaur’s. “Head over there, and everything will be just fine.” He said, having a strong stance and brave expression on his face. A few seconds went by before the Parasaur he told to go left him and the other Parasaur alone, M/n sighed and walked towards the Parasaur behind him before he caressed the crescent on the dinosaurs head. “There there, its over now..”

Little did he know that Owen and Claire watched this interaction happen, they both walked down towards the h/c haired man and stood there. He had looked beside him and stood up straight before clearing his throat. “Ah, Hello Miss Claire.. and?..” “Owen, Owen Grady.” The man beside Claire said before he extended his hand out towards M/n and they shook hands. “You’re the man who can talk to those Velociraptors, right? Ive heard so many things about you!” M/n said, looking at Owen up and down. “Yea, its nothin’ special” Owen said, also looking the Parasaur communicator up and down.

Owen was surprised, he had never seen another person be able to control dinosaurs like he did, sure it was just Parasaur’s, an herbivore, but they were still dinosaurs! And if the Parasaur’s wanted to, they would’ve moved M/n out the way and continued fighting. It was 2 days since their interaction, and the Velociraptor man was still thinking about M/n, his hair, his face, the way he smelled, it was weird he was thinking about him even after meeting him 2 days ago and just barely becoming friends!

The next few days Owen would catch himself think about M/n over and over again, and one day, he got caught. “Snap out of it, Owen!” Claire said, snapping her fingers in front of Owens face, Owen became startled and jumped a bit before he caught his balance, “Sorry, what were you saying?..” He said, looking back at Claire before she sighed and spoke again “I said that you and M/n are going to start working together, you two are completely valuable assets and we want to help the dinosaurs stay calm and collected during drills.” She said before she got a call and walked out of the headquarters, picking it up.

Owen and M/n had drove towards the Gallimimus Valley, they had a problem that M/n had to solve. As soon as they got there, M/n ran out and got in front of a herd of the Parasaur’s that were freaking out, surprisingly to Owen, the Parasaur’s had stopped when M/n made a high-pitched sound that got their focus, “Calm, Calm..” He said before he walked to the Parasaur’s, caressing their heads and calming them down.

M/n had left the group of Parasaur’s that just calmed down and he walked back to Owen on top of a hill, M/n wiped his shoulders “phew, could’ve had a problem there..” M/n said. “Well, you fixed it, and you looked good while doing it.” Owen said, sneaking in a brave remark in the compliment, M/n blushed for a little before he spoke up “O-Oh, thank you.. you look.. good yourself when you control the raptor’s..” M/n said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously before he went back into the car, leaving Owen to chuckle to himself and get into the drivers seat after a bit.

Unfortunately the music is acting stupid and wont let me add it but the fanfic was inspired by “Snap Out Of It” By Artic Monkeys

[sailorsoons]

Break (h.js)

PAIRING: Witch!Joshua x Cursed!Reader

SUMMARY: You’ve suffered your entire life after a single magical accident when you were thirteen. Joshua has been your biggest comfort and anchor, but he also becomes your deepest regret. 

WC: 18,176

AU: Magic/Witches, Modern Fantasy

GENRE: Friends to Lovers, Doomed Lovers, Heavy Angst, Smut

RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

WARNINGS: Death and implied accidental murder of a sibling, childhood trauma, creepy vibes, heavy angst, a lot of internal monologue featuring angst, physical and verbal abuse from members of the town toward reader, Joshua and other members sometimes try to solve things on behalf of reader and she finds it frustrating (this is discussed), explicit sexual content including vaginal fingering, nipple play, oral (m. receiving), unprotected sex, not explicit dom/sub dynamics at all but Joshua is definitely in charge, subspace/blacking out post sex, heavy angst ending - reader and Joshua are some vengeful bitches - I would say this is probably an unhappy ending in a sense of the problem isn’t resolved (that we know of) and the ending is a bit ambiguous. 

A/N: This was a fic I originally had on my BTS blog (of the same name), but I have edited for Joshua because idk he just fit the vibes. I assure you, I did more than just flip names in this. I sat down and edited this quite a bit - you’ll be able to tell the parts that are like.. My old style of writing vs. where you see new stuff because my tone/cadencs are totally different, but hopefully it works :) 

MASTERLIST | ASK | PERMANENT TAG LIST | ▷NOW PLAYING: HAUNTING BY HALSEY

JOSHUA IS GOOD AT HOLDING GRUDGES. Even as a child, his mother always said he had a tough time letting things go. He never knew how right she would be. His mother’s words are all he can think about as he storms through the dark of the forest, shadows whispering about him as he looks for the lone hut in the very dark of the woods. 

Little hut, little hut

Hidden in the wood

Little hut, little hut

Up to no good

If his parents could see him now, he knows they would be broken. Tear-streaked and shaking, a lost boy alone in the woods and drowning in anger so hot that the ground scorches beneath his feet. Looking for a salve. Looking for vengeance. 

Little hut, little hut

Alone in the gloom

Little hut, little hut

Silent as a tomb

Blood witches are dangerous. Joshua knows this, everyone knows this. A blood witch is the reason why his parents are dead and he is storming through the darkness in the throes of madness. But Joshua is only thirteen and full of pain and desperation, vowing to never let something happen like this again. If he has to use a devil to defeat a devil, he will. 

Little hut, little hut

Across the dark stream

Little hut, little hut

Wait for the scream

A dark stream wends its way through the trees. Joshua gets a running start and jumps across the whispering waters. When he lands on the other side, he waits. It took a lot of searching to find someone to tell him how to find the witch in the woods. No one comes here, especially not in the dead of night on Beltane. 

They say only evil comes from the little hut in the woods. Joshua knows now that it isn’t true. Evil comes from anywhere and everywhere, even from the people that one least expects. Evil killed his parents. Evil is why he is alone, crying on the edge of the stream, waiting for the sound of a banshee's call. 

He hears it then. A one-note wail, thin and high-pitched. His blood goes cold and the fight in him nearly goes out at the sound. His heart begins to pound so loud that it’s all he can hear, the thundering beat of panic and terror as he realizes what he’s about to do. 

“Little hut, little hut,” a voice that he cannot see calls to him. There is no hut that Joshua can see. Only omnipresent darkness, cloying the air in front of him. A tingle skitters over his arms and he becomes acutely aware of another presence there with him in the dark. “I call to thee. Little hut, little hut, come to me.” 

Joshua blinks rapidly a few times and sees the outline of a hut in front of him. It has a blurry shape like it’s really the idea of a house. It’s so shadowed and opaque that he’s not entirely sure if it’s really there. He walks toward it anyway, one foot in front of the other, looking at the hut. 

If a home could be a phantom, he thinks this is what the hut is. There is a vibrational pull here, a dull buzz in his veins as he gets closer and closer to where the blood witch lives. His stomach turns and his instincts beg him to leave. There is evil in this place. He knows it. Can feel its oily presence like a poisonous slick in his veins. 

A door - or rather what he imagines is a door shape - stands open in the hut. Inside is eternal darkness like Joshua has never seen before. The buzzing in his veins has become stronger, an itch he can’t scratch. A ringing in his ears. 

Sometimes to beat evil, you must use evil. So Joshua steps into the house despite all the reasons he should turn around and run. Because he is alone, he is in pain, and he needs some sort of penance. Justice. 

So he asks the blood witch for a favor. 

Little hut, little hut

Hear my strife

Little hut, little hut

Ruin this life 

-

When the rock hits you right at the top of your spine, you know it isn’t an accident. All the same, you spin on your heel and look at the edge of the lake where the kids are skipping stones. They squeal and look away from you, huddled together as they giggle and look over their shoulders with frantic and excited faces. 

You clench your fists and keep going. What can you do to a group of kids? Tossing children into the lake while you’re an adult seems unfair, though it certainly crosses your mind. It isn’t necessarily their fault that they were taught to have such hate in their hearts at a young age, after all. 

So, you keep going, grinding your teeth as you march up the slope toward the main pathway that cuts through the park, gravel crunching beneath your feet as you quicken your strides to put distance between you and the cackling children. You’re not positive they won’t throw another rock at you, and you think that it might send you over the edge.

Early preparation for the Beltane festival is in full swing all over the park. There are trucks unloading carts and piecing together stalls, vendors and contractors with clipboards walking through spray painted grass with city officials, and a giant maypole waiting to be constructed. 

Living in a town of witchy folk can be fun, you suppose. The only downside is that most of the witches in your town despise you and think you’re an abhorrent blight to the earth. If killing and sacrifices hadn’t been outdated and frowned upon, you’re sure they would have stuck you to an altar as a child the first time you showed signs of being a leech. 

Leech. 

It’s an unkind thing to call witches who siphon magic. It isn’t something you can control - it isn’t even something you were born with. Most witches who siphon magic are born that way. A sort of magical defect in the way they interact naturally with the world. 

Most think of siphoners as a plague to the witch community. Thieves and monsters who can only feed on magic to make magic, a perversion of the natural balance of things. The way you look at it, witches who siphoned aren’t really any different from the natural order of the world. All living things need an energy source: food for animals, sun for plants, bacteria for amoebas. It isn’t different, really. 

Perhaps you would not be so kind to leeches, though, had you not began your existence as a siphoner at thirteen years old. 

It isn’t a night that you enjoy remembering, but it is certainly a night you can’t seem to forget. One moment you could command your magic like most other witches. Most, because you were a blood witch with raw talent and a powerful relationship with the earth’s energy. 

Blood witches were as revered as they were feared, witches who needed no spells. Who could use the magic within them instead of their connection with the earth to conjure. To blood witches, all other witches were leeches, really. You didn’t tell that to your coven, though you thought about the irony often. 

Your blood magic had vanished, though. It happened while you lay asleep in your bed, pressed up against your twin sister. Twins were a special thing in covens, a rarity in the magical order of the world that was seen as a good omen. There was a connection you shared with her deeper than the connection to your own magic, a bond that rooted the two of you together. That made you seek one another out for comfort. 

It had been storming that night and you had sought out the warmth of her bed and the vanilla sugar of her hair to soothe your nerves. You didn’t like storms and thunder very much, but she was wide awake in her bed, watching out the window as purple lighting cracked across the sky and thunder shook the house. 

You’d slipped into her bed without a word and she stood guardian over you, hand tucked in yours as she watched the sky light up. You remember her laying down next to you after the storm passed. The warmth of her breath on your cheek as she fell asleep. The hum between the two of you, soul recognizing soul.

She’d been dead by morning, magic siphoned and drained dry in the middle of the night. 

The memory of it is metallic in your mouth. You head toward your apartment, hands tucked into the pockets of your jeans, head down. Beltane always makes you think of your sister. Makes you think of the morning you woke up on your thirteenth Beltane to find her cold and dead, magical signature gone. Severed. Torn away from you. 

Losing your ability to generate magic was only second to losing your sister. You still feel adrift fifteen years later. Moving through the world with a piece of you missing. Two pieces of you, if you count the fact that you can feel the magic around you but not reach for it. You never reach for it, though you suspect that no one believes you.

Except maybe Joshua. But even he doesn’t know the story of how you became what you are. All he knows is that you can’t create your own magic, and yet he’s never shamed you for it. Never turned his back on you, or berated you or bullied you. 

That sort of kindness is a rarity in your world.

Your small town is easy to navigate. There’s not much that happens that doesn’t immediately become the knowledge of all citizens, and there’s not really a way to get lost unless you’re a tourist coming to visit the country's spookiest and most magical town. The locals are pretty firm believers in magic, but the out of towners don’t really believe. They just want camp and kitsch. 

It’s busy season, the streets filled with people buying decorations to celebrate Beltane, restaurants full of tourists trying out local fare between going shop to shop. The festivals always draw a big crowd to your corner of the world, making it easier for you to blend in with all the rest of them. It almost makes you feel normal when someone doesn’t recognize you and immediately scowls. Sometimes you can even get away with eating at places that wouldn’t normally serve you, the workers too busy to really look at your face and see you. 

A few people have taken pity on you outside of Joshua. Seungcheol and Jeonghan would never turn you away, always welcoming you with open arms, a warm cup of tea and free books for as long as you like at their bookstore. You’re not technically allowed in the metaphysical store on Fourth, but as long as Jihoon is working, you can walk through the rows and rows of crystals, grimoires, spices and charms. Joshua is where you’re really home, though, his bakery a place of safety and fresh-smelling sugar cookies. 

It’s where you go now, sticking to the shop windows and away from the tourists flowing all over Main Street like ants. There’s a line stretched out the door when you get to Wicked Sweet Bakery, and Chan looks helpless behind the counter as he nods while taking an order, wide-eyed and terrified. 

Joshua is at the delivery counter, flour staining his cheeks and brows as he nods politely and hands a box of cupcakes over to his customer. As though he can sense you, he lifts his head and swivels, eyes scanning until they land on you, immediately shining. Your stomach leaps the way it often does around him, especially when he breaks out into a beautiful smile and jerks his thumb at an apron.

You roll your eyes. You’re not technically an employee at the bakery, but you’re the next best thing, grabbing an apron from the rack to attempt to help the stressed out witches behind the counter. 

“Can you take over the order counter?” he asks, the blush on his face the only sign that he’s getting a little frazzled. You nod and he winks at you, leaning over to press a quick, chaste kiss on your cheek. “You’re an angel.”

“Mhmm,” is the only response you manage before he’s leaning over Chan’s shoulder to correct something on the register.  

There’s a smooth cadence to helping around the store. You fall into a pattern, calling out order numbers and passing over boxes of charmed sweets. The customers don’t know they’re charmed - at least not the people outside the magical community. They come here for the famous rose scones that inspire love and the lemon tarts that generate good luck, but they don’t realize how much of himself Joshua really pours into these sweets, magic and all. 

Being here is nice. Chan grins when he sees you behind the counter, happy for the help. He still gets overwhelmed behind the till, and he’s more than happy to step back and chew his lip nervously when he processes a discount wrong. You’re up next to him before he can ask for help, typing on the screen while gently walking him through it again.

Chan is a good kid, an elemental witch who is prone to cause rainstorms when he gets stressed. For now, he is a bottle of sunshine, thanking you shyly and letting you know that he saved you a bag of butterscotch cookies in the back. 

“I put in a little extra sunshine,” he promises. By that, you know that he means magic. To give you. You open your mouth to scold him but he shakes his head furiously. “I wanted to do it. You can’t yell at me. I’m your favorite.”

That gets you. It’s hard to be mad at him, especially when anger is likely to set him off into a rainstorm. Chan gives you a wicked smile, his little ego sharp and wicked under his sweet surface. You let him off with an eye roll and a squeeze of his wrist, making him beam. 

This is what keeps you going most days. The unfettered kindness that Joshua and his friends show you. None of them are locals to town, but they had formed their own coven a little at a time, a circle under the broad umbrella of the town's overall witch population.

Covens are difficult. You’re both in and not in Joshua’s coven, an unofficial member by friendship. But you don’t practice anymore - won’t let yourself - so you’re on the outside looking in most weekends and during spiritual times of the year. 

But by witch standard, you are a part of the covenstead of the town, the larger collective of witches who are loyal and responsible for one another, all answering to the high priestess. 

When the rush of customers and shouting orders over the glass dies down, you lean against the counter and reach a hand out just as the door to the back swings open. Joshua has a glass bottle of soda ready for you, and he blinks in surprise when he sees your hand ready for it. You’re a little surprised as well. 

“It’s freaky when the two of you do that,” Chan comments, eyes bouncing between you and Joshua as the older hands you the bottle. “You’re always so in-tune.”

“She’s a witch,” Joshua snorts, leaning against the glass case of mostly empty dishes as he takes a swig of his own. “Divination and all that is sort of what we do.” 

“Yeah, but it only happens with you.”

You don’t meet Joshua’s eyes as you swig from the bottle, the carbonation fizzing on your tongue. “I know you’re jealous, Chan,” is Joshua’s answer. Always deflecting. You're grateful for the way he rolls with the punches, easily accepting the way others talk about you two as an item so you don’t have to. “Are you hoping those butterscotch cookies win her over?”

Thunder cracks in the sky as Chan goes red in the voice, launching into an argument with Joshua who starts laughing like a maniac.  

When it’s time to close down the shop, you help the two of them out. Joshua goes to the back to begin batching things anew: fondant, bread, frosting - anything that he can let sit overnight or prep while the lights are out and he’s gone home. You focus on cleaning with Chan, letting him put on a pop playlist while he sings along, siren voice lulling you into a steady rhythm. 

Part of you wants to ask what they’re doing for Beltane. Celebrating the holidays used to be your favorite, threading flowers through your hair, blessing your hearth and home, weaving new spells of prosperity and happiness alongside your sister. Now you don’t participate in any of the rituals with the others. 

Most of the time, you celebrate alone in your room. Mark the points of the elements and the compass on your bedroom floor alone. Sit in front of a single candle, watching the flame flicker as you draw your circle of salt, murmuring blessings. It isn’t a powerful place of practice and you have no alter to communicate through, but it's something. It’s yours. 

Instead of asking, you follow Joshua and Chan out of the door on the promise of dinner. This is the one thing that does feel like a ritual you’re allowed to participate in, holding chapel at Joshua’s dining room table and elbowing with Soonyoung or Mingyu for scraps of food piled high in the center of the table. 

Evening sky stretches overhead as you walk between Joshua and Chan. You cast your eyes upward, watching the gray clouds float by. Joshua throws an arm around you, pulling you in close and squeezing you to his side. He smells like vanilla and sweet orange from making his tangerina vanilla cakes for Seungkwan. You breathe in his scent, letting it wash through you like a balm. 

His arm presses a little too hard on the bruise where the rock from earlier nailed you, and you hiss, reaching behind your head automatically to adjust his hold on you. 

“What?” he asks, lifting his arm and slowing his gait. Joshua’s face is picture-perfect concern, mouth tilted downward, a crease in his brows. Before you can explain, his hands are pulling at the collar of your shirt. “You’ve got a welt here, what the hell is that?”

You smack at his hands and step away from him, pulling his warm fingers from your shirt. “It’s nothing.”

“Whenever you say ‘it’s nothing’ it's always something. Why do you have a lump on the top of your spine?”

Dancing away from him, you grab Chan who grunts, mouth full of corn chips as you shove him between you and Joshua. More unhappy noises come from the youngest as Joshua grabs for you but you squeak and use Chan’s broad body to block him again. 

“Yah!” Joshua yells, reaching both arms around either side of Chan to grab you. He manages to get one of your arms, pulling you toward him - and by default, Chan - and keeps a firm grip while you swat and fight back. 

“Aish!” Chan howls between the two of you, adding to the chaos as he shoves both of you away from him. “Stop using me as a battering ram! I’m going to drop my chips! Guys!” 

“Tell me why you have a wound!”

“It isn’t a wound!”

“It’s a type of wound!”

“Ugh let my arm go, hulk! What are you doing at the gym? Juicing? Jesus Christ!”

“Stop hissing at me like a rat! Are you trying to bite me?”

Chan drops his bag of chips and lets out a long, forlorn wail. “My chiiiiiiiiips!” 

After a struggle, you manage to shake Joshua off of you, taking a few steps back as you huff angrily, fists at your side. Joshua sidesteps Chan who is pouting and looking at the ground, blonde bangs falling in his eyes as he stares at the spilled corn chips. Joshua makes it worse by stepping on them with a crunch, earning a shriek from Chan that goes ignored.

“Did someone hurt you?”

A rumble rolls through the sky from up above. You cast your gaze upward, looking at the clouds that are a little more swollen than they were a few minutes ago. You can sense the static in the air, a promise of lightning if you don’t diffuse Joshua’s anger quickly. 

Similar to Chan, Joshua is sensitive to the elements. Where Chan has an affinity for the sky and the rain, Joshua has a lot more skill with fire. Still, Joshua is a powerful witch and his rage on more than one occasion has disturbed the sky and the lake in the middle of town. 

It’s partly the reason he works so hard on never getting angry. 

“It’s nothing, Joshua,” you answer softly, eyes pleading. You desperately want him to drop it. Part of you is honored that he cares, but the other half of you can’t bear the way he looks at you. “Please drop it.”

“Someone hurt you. Again.”

Thunder echoes across the sky. Chan looks upward. “That isn’t me, even though I am mad about my chips. And about being oggled at by Mrs. Hansen again, she really wants my goodies.”

“Shua, it isn’t a big deal. Please.” You glance upward, thunder rolling again. “You’re going to make it rain.”

“I’ll make it do more than rain when I find out who did it.”

“They were just kids, Shua. You can’t-”

He swears loudly and there’s a flash of lightning above your head. It makes you think of that night with your sister, laying in bed to let the storm pass. You clap your hands over your ears and squeeze your eyes shut, automatically crouching to make yourself small. 

Behind your shut eyes, you try not to let the memories come. Try not to imagine the vanilla scent of her hair, warm hands on your skin turned cold the next morning. You block out the screams, the way your mother shoved you away and your father yelled and yelled and yelled and-

Above, the thunder stops. Rain doesn’t fall, and the air pressure returns to normal. Shivering, you crack an eye open to look at Joshua, terrified at what you might find. His anger is so rare, but every time you witness it, it’s like watching a sudden storm bloom on the horizon, all terrible wind and teeth, but beautiful in its power. 

Chan is murmuring in Joshua’s ear now, voice hushed and urgent. Joshua’s eyes become unfocused as he nods, Chan’s hands grasping the older’s biceps firmly. When Joshua’s eyes find yours over Chan’s shoulder, they’re fathomless. Endless pools of warm brown, and something else that you can’t decipher as he murmurs something back to Chan, who steps away.

Licking his lips, Joshua offers you a hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m sorry.” 

You swallow thickly. Reach out a tentative hand. “It’s okay.”

“You know I would never hurt you?”

Of course you know that. You aren’t afraid of Joshua or the power he holds. You aren’t afraid of what he can do. You are afraid of the memories that nip at your heels like a pack of jackals. You are afraid that one day he’ll decide you’re not enough. You are afraid of the way that it makes you feel when he’s this close, his voice pitched low, soft eyes only for you. 

“I know that,” you murmur, letting him pull you toward him. “It’s just the thunder, that's all.”

His smile is soft. “I know, I’m sorry.” He squeezes your hand. It’s a perfect fit, your palm in his. His skin buzzes with magic. You pull your hand from his quickly, not trusting yourself to touch him. You’ll never make that mistake again - especially with him. “Let’s go home, yeah?”

-

Home isn’t the small apartment on the west side of town that you keep by yourself. Home is Joshua’s two-story house in the suburbs made of brick and mortar. It’s the crowded dining room packed tight with chairs pulled close to the wooden table and a chandelier full of burner candles and incense. It’s Joshua’s cat familiar running yowling down the corridor as Jihoon’s maine coon chases it, hissing. 

Home is the handful of witches who don’t care that you can’t generate your own magic, all of them laughing and pushing empty plates toward the middle of the table where Seungcheol collects them with a snap of his fingers, the cutlery lifting and stacking neatly with the soft click of ceramic. 

Bloated and overly-satiated, you lean back in your chair, sighing heavily. Jihoon is next to you, quiet and staring off into space the way that he often does. Next to him, Jeonghan and Seungcheol have their heads bowed together whispering, a blush flushing across Seungcheol’s wine-glazed expression and tops of his ears. 

Seungcheol and Jeonghan strike something in you. A longing that tugs at your heart strings, drawing your gaze to the man sitting on the other side of you. Joshua is leaning back in his chair, arm stretched over the back of your seat as he yawns mid-conversation with Junhui. 

Joshua is barely touching you, but just the warmth of his arm is enough to make you dizzy. It’s barely there, just against the top of your back. You lean into him a little, resting your head on top of his arm. He maneuvers his hand to scratch the top of your head lightly. It feels so nice that your eyes flutter shut, letting him play with your hair as the noise in the room drifts to a dull buzz. 

In another life, you think that this touch could be something more. Sometimes, you let yourself wonder if it is. Let yourself pretend that maybe Joshua’s lingering gaze and hand is more than the platonic affection he has for you. 

It’s a silly dream. 

When the dishes are washed and the others have said their goodbyes, it’s just you and Joshua leaning against the counter in the kitchen. He has a glass of wine, sipping it thoughtfully as you put the cork back in the wine bottle. When you meet his gaze, you see something there. Hesitance. Anxiety. 

Joshua chews on his lips and swishes the wine in his glass. The red liquid arches elegantly along the sides of the glass, slowly dripping back down to pool in his cup. You remember once at a winery you could measure the legs or something when swishing wine in a glass. Joshua had taken you to that winery because he wanted to research wine making in general, considering creating and packing his own. He eventually tossed the idea out, wanting to focus on expanding his sweets menu instead. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, taking a sip out of your own cup. It’s a strong mulled wine with notes of cherry, you think. “You look nervous.”

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” 

Your heart beats hard once. Then twice. Speeds up. Instead of answering right away, you take another sip, mind running through all of the things you think he might say. Maybe this is it, he’s going to tell you that you can’t come around as much. That though you’re his best friend, you have to stay away from his coven. 

Instead, Joshua says, “You know I’ve looked into your situation.” You wince when he says it but he pushes forward, leaning off the counter as he grows eager. “You said you weren’t always a siphon, that you could control your own magic as a child. I’ve been researching similar cases, and there is a lot of evidence that supports that it might be a magical block.”

“Joshua.”

“Look, there’s nothing wrong with you. Never has been. There is nothing to fix. But I know you don’t share that same opinion, and I know that if you could change things, you would.” His jaw flexes. “And I care about your happiness. I just… Jihoon and I have been reading up on rituals to release magical blocks, and with Beltane in a few days, we thought…”

Warmth bubbles in your chest. You know how much this means to him, trying to help you. To free you from the burden that you carry with you wherever you go. This is not the first time he has brought up trying to figure out your ailment. Your situation. And though you’re glad he cares about you enough to try, there is something humiliating about it. 

“You don’t have to decide tonight,” Joshua murmurs. You look up at him and his gaze is soft. Vulnerable. “But if you want us to try, we discussed it. And our circle is strong enough to try it on Beltane.”

Licking your lips, you nod once. “I’ll think about it. Thanks for thinking of me.”

“I’m always thinking of you.” You give him a look and he smiles, a little sad. “What? I am.” 

“Stop trying to be charming. I’ll only say yes if I want to.”

“I have no doubt about that. However, it is impossible for me to stop my charm. It is a natural gift. I am, afterall, a gentleman.”

You roll your eyes. “A gentleman who lacks humility.”

“Ah, but my hubris seems so small whenever Seungcheol is around.” 

You don’t push the argument. Joshua grins again before opening a drawer in his kitchen, pulling out a small, cloth bag. There’s a green ribbon tying the top of it shut, and you smell the herbs inside of it immediately: cedar, bay leaves, mugwort. 

Joshua holds the bag out to you and you frown, taking it. It’s weighted with crystals. You squeeze the bag a little, feeling the crunch of crystal fragments and herbs. There is a vibration that travels from your fingers up your arms and you feel a sense of solid warmth.

“A protection bag,” you deadpan. “Really?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t need this.”

“The welt on your neck says otherwise.”

“Please stop!” Your voice is loud in the empty kitchen. He pulls up short, leaning against the counter and watching you with wide eyes, lips parted slightly. You sigh deeply and close your eyes for a moment, calming yourself before you open them and say, “I don’t mean to yell, it’s just - it’s hard when I feel like all of you coddle me. It’s humiliating.” 

“It wasn’t my intention. I’d never want to make you feel that way.”

“I know.”

You do know. The intentions are good, but you can’t help the raw, venomous edge of frustration. It makes you feel less than, this constant need to help you. To do things for you. 

“I am a fully functioning adult who is capable of taking care of myself, despite being a thorn in the covenstead’s side.”

“You know that isn’t how we think of you.”

You give a frustrated noise. “Then please. Let me ask for help when I need it, and not just when you feel the desire to give it to me.” 

Joshua is quick to catch the protection bag when you toss it back to him. He nods silently, eyes fixated on the floor. It feels like a hot stone has been dropped in your stomach, burning and weighing you down. How quickly a good dinner has turned sour, how the light air between the two of you has gone cold. 

“Thank you for dinner. And for looking into a way out of this,” you gesture wildly to yourself. He nods, but there’s no mirth in his face. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah of course. Let me know about… you know.” 

“Yeah. Yeah.”

That night, you have trouble sleeping, just like that night when you were thirteen years old. 

-

The back door to Shadow Metaphysical opens, creaking as Jihoon sticks his head out of his office. His long hair is styled behind his ears and he’s in a soft-looking black sweater and jeans. He gives a visible sigh of relief when he sees it’s you and not one of his shithead coven mates coming to bother him for free stuff.

“Hey,” he greets, exiting the office. His familiar, Nami, shoots between his legs and toward the front of the store. 

Jihoon leads you through the door to the main storefront. It’s closed for the evening and he has receipts and cash laid out on the counter as he balances his drawer for the day. Rows and rows of dark shelving littered with candles and wax light the way here. There’s no traditional lighting, floating candles up in the ceiling and random balls of light appearing every once in a while.

When you asked Jihoon how the non-magical customers didn’t think the magic was real, he simply said, That Harry Potter lady did me a solid. They all think it’s some sort of intricate system. 

Shadow Metaphysical is one of your favorite places. It smells different each time you go in, the magic and the herbs and the spells inside of its four walls shifting with the energy of its employees and customers at all times. Today, it smells like night rain and crackling lightning. 

Wordlessly, Jihoon gestures at the shelving, signaling to do whatever you need. He busies himself with going back to counting bills, head down and trusting you not to steal anything like everyone else in his coven. Not that he would care, as he’s always emphasized he has no problem not taking your money.

Still, you always pay him, especially since he lets you in after hours where no one can yell at you for being inside. The covenstead has barred magical stores from siphoners, convinced that the moment they cross the threshold, they’ll consume the entire store like gluttonous demons.

It isn’t true. Well. Not really, anyway. You feel the magic in the store throbbing like a wound in your side, begging you to reach out and touch it, to pull it in, to use, to burn it. You ignore it. You’re not here to eat magic like a parasite. 

As you pass rows and rows of books on rituals, you think about Joshua’s offer to help you figure out your block. It wouldn’t be the first time you tried and failed to figure out what happened. With magic, the point of origin is always the key to any spell. The how and the where of your condition are important elements to figuring out the solution, but no one really knows the how and the where. 

Your friends don’t have full clarity on that night. You’ve never told them in explicit detail of how you woke up, full of your sister’s magic. You’re sure they know, though. Everyone has whispered about the way you killed your sister in her sleep. A little murderer. You’d only escaped persecution for being a child, and because up until that fateful night, you’d never been a siphoner. 

It helped that your family had been respected. 

You pass a grimoire. The runes on it shine gold when you pause, winking at you, begging you to touch it. You feel the whisper of the spells of dozens of witches inside of it, their phantom fingers brushing down your arms. Your spine. They call to you, sing to you, press kisses that promise power on your brow, their fingers turning to claws and-

“Stop,” you growl out loud. The grimoire stops calling to you immediately, silenced by the violence in your voice. 

Shaking off the encounter, you grab what you need from the shelves, ignoring the way other magical objects feel like they're looking at you, wanting to be picked up, to be touched, to be used. You shove away all acknowledgement of them, arms full of materials. 

At the register, Jihoon gives you a wary look as you set things down on the counter. He takes his time scanning them, glancing at you occasionally. You can sense he wants to ask a question, dark eyes lingering a few times. That’s the thing about Jihoon, though. He’ll never ask, he’ll just wait until you give up.

Which you do, sighing and saying, “Ask.”

His lips twitch as he bags a few jars of thorns. “How often do the books in here talk to you?” You level a stare at him and he rolls his eyes. “I can hear you. I just pretend not to be nice. Plus, I have a magical tie to this shop, I can feel the energy shift. Everytime you’re here, it’s like suddenly the entire store has it’s eyes on you.”

“Great,” you growl. “Yes, it happens often. I don’t know if it’s a siphoner thing or a me thing. Most magic begs me to use it, but magical objects are worse. They’re borderline sentient.” You chew your lip and rub your sweaty palms on your jeans. “It’s worse around the sabbat holidays.”

“Stronger magic.”

“Yeah.”

“Did Joshua explain what ritual we talked about?” You shake your head. He pushes over a paper bag filled with all your things and you hand over your card. He doesn’t take it until you give him a pointed stare. Plucking it from your fingers, he sighs and says, “Two smaller rituals wrapped into one. Seungcheol found a really old binding ritual that was used to form a bridge between multiple rituals.”

“A chain spell,” you offer. “Impressive. I guess that would be used for improving upon old rituals?”

“Yeah, exactly that. Joshua had been doing some research on magical blocks, and found one that determines whether the point of origin is internal or external.” 

“External?” He nods. “Like a curse?”

“Yes. Any reason anyone would want to curse a thirteen-year-old?” 

Jihoon phrases it like a joke and chuckles. But you don’t laugh, stilling as you think about his question. Your immediate answer is no, at thirteen there was certainly nothing you could have done to be cursed. But you think about your parents, thinking about the fear revolving around their gifts for blood magic, think about the way they were always regarded with equal parts fear and reverence as coven leaders.

Curses aren’t common. It would take a coven of extremely skilled witches to curse someone, but it could take a single very skilled blood witch to perform one. Hexes aren’t long-term and are far more manageable, but you think about the way your power vanished, the way you bled your sister dry. 

The misery you’ve faced since, the loss of your parents shortly after, the hatred from the covenstead. 

“Holy shit, you don’t think you’re cursed, do you?” Jihoon’s question brings you out of your daze. All of the amusement has been wiped clean from his expression, eyes deadly serious. “Who would curse a child? And how? A hex is easy enough to manage, but a full on curse?”

“People were really afraid of my parents,” you murmur. “My mom used to lead the covenstead here, you know?” That surprises him and you nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “I forget you’re not from here, but yeah. My family led the covenstead until… well. All that happened.”

“I never knew that. No one talks about it.”

There is a question there. Jihoon won’t say it outright, but you sense the curiosity nonetheless. You feel your throat constrict a little as you murmur, “My parents killed themselves when my sister died. No one talks about it because… wel, would you?”

“No.”

“Exactly.”

“Your parents have any enemies prior to that?”

“There was…” You think back to the time when you were thirteen. Those days are painted so painfully when you think about them that it is hard to remember anything else. “My parents were involved in the Trials that were going on at that time. Hunting Dissenters.”

Jihoon’s face darkens. “I see.”

“They had a lot of enemies. So maybe… I don’t know.”

For a few moments, Jihoon doesn’t say anything. He busies himself with packing away the rest of the till and waving his hand, dousing all the lights in the store with ease. There’s a little pang as he does it, such simple magic that costs him nothing. That you have no access to.

“Well,” Jihoon sighs, a little awkwardly. “Think about it. If - and it’s unlikely - that someone cursed you, you’ll know if we go through with the ritual.” He pauses and levels you with a look. “It is dangerous though. So consider the risk before you agree, hmm?”

You nod and thank him. He leads you out of the store and gives you an awkward smile goodbye. Never affectionate, but always polite and warm nonetheless. 

Sunset-purple skies stretch above you. It smells like fresh rain and earth outside. Town is quieter now that the evening crowd has finished dinner and gone home or back to their accommodations for the evening. You pass places with patio seating and small diners tucked between stores, wary eyes of the workers following you as you walk down the sidewalk. 

No one says good evening. Some don’t look at you at all. 

Curse. 

The word weighs heavy on you. You’d never considered that your condition could be from a curse before, but now that you think about it, you can’t stop the thoughts racing through your mind. 

The Trials had been a scary time for witches, Dissenters leaving covensteads to start their own, dark and forbidden spellwork becoming more and more popular among covens. Your parents - especially your mother  - had been a huge part of cleansing the covenstead from witches who practiced dark magic.

Especially the few blood witches. 

You had been a blood witch, though. Like your sister, like your mother. People had always been wary of them, which is why your mother worked so hard to get rid of the Dissenters when she was the head priestess. 

They give us a bad name, she would say darkly when you and your sister asked why she was getting rid of witches like you. Like her. In times like this, we have to work extra hard to prove we aren’t evil. 

Jihoon’s words weigh heavy on you as you sit in your apartment alone. You don’t bother to put the TV on, knowing that you won’t be able to pay attention to anything. Magic always comes at a price, and two rituals wrapped into one is going to take a toll. 

And yet, you think about getting to the bottom of this sickness, this curse. This inability to do anything but steal magic, to leech off of others. You think about how your magic used to feel, the way you could command fire with a snap of your fingers or make stars fall from your bedroom ceiling. 

An ache settles in your chest as you lay back on the couch and close your eyes, throat tight and eyes burning. You have been without magic for so long. Part of you thinks what's a little longer? But deep down, you crave it. The spark, the life, the touch of magic. 

You want to be able to enter stores without the itch underneath your skin, an addiction you can’t cure nor divulge in. You want to be able to be a part of a community again, to do rituals with Jihoon and Chan and Joshua. You want to be able to help him in his bakery, imbuing his scones and cupcakes with love and a little spark of something extra. 

Tears flow hot on your face. You know what you want, and you know that it’s going to cost you to get it. You know that to do this, you’ll have to be open and honest, because there are only two possible options for your magic block: you are cursed or you have a mental block. 

It’s hard to know if being cursed as a result of your parents’ policing is worse than potentially having an internal block, an innate refusal to do magic because of what you did. 

That night sits at the back of your mind like a stone, sinking sinking sinking. Pulling you under as you think about it in explicit detail. Maybe you simply killed your twin. A horrible accident, but perhaps it was just you. Your magic. Your fault. 

And your magic had fled because of it, a self-inflicted punishment. 

Before you’re aware of what you’re doing, you have the phone in your hand, sniffing and wiping your tears with the back of your hand. Your face feels swollen and sticky with tears and overwarm and it’s hard to get a breath as you press the phone to your ear, listening to the ringing.

Joshua picks up on the fourth ring, his voice cheery. “What, did Jihoon forget to let you in the store?”

“No.”

“I’m coming now,” Joshua says, completely forgoing humor when he hears you sniff, hears the waver in your voice. “Are you home?”

“Yeah.”

“Did anyone hurt you?”

“No,” you hiccup. “I’m just really sad and I don’t want to be alone.”

“I’ll be there in ten. Do you want to stay on the phone?” You shake your head and let out a little sob. Something about knowing he’s coming over to be with you cracks your resolve a little more. You realize he can’t see you when he prompts, “Hey, you there?”

“Sorry, no. Drive safely, please.”

“For you? Anything.”

Despite your tears, your mouth wobbles into a weak smile at that. It makes your heart squeeze just a little, underneath all the hurt. 

It doesn’t take him long to let himself in the apartment. You can sense him before he even gets to the stairs leading up to your unit, his crackling energy like a beacon to you. When he opens the door with the key you gave him, he fills the space with static, magic snapping and tinged with worry. 

Magic always belies how Joshua feels. Like now, as he rushes across the apartment, he is lightning, all energy and anxiety popping and snapping as he sits on the couch next to you, pulling you into his chest. 

Joshua is warm and smells like vanilla and sweet orange from the bakery. It’s soothing. You close your eyes and clutch the hem of his shirt, resolve cracking the rest of the way as he becomes your anchor as you drift out to sea, holding you so that you can be lost in the overwhelming feeling of loss without getting too far. 

He doesn’t tell you not to cry. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong. Joshua leans back on the couch, pulling you into his lap, folding your knees so that he can hold you. One hand rubs your back and he rests his chin on the top of your head, letting you use the crook of his neck as a place to hide - and turn into a waterfall for your tears. 

This is what you love about Joshua though. He doesn’t pry. He just lets you use him, lets you cry it out and he waits. 

When the tears begin to dry and you find it easier to breathe again, you shift away from Joshua and wipe your face. He smiles down at you, eyes glittering and expression so fond that you find yourself staring blankly into his face.

“I’m sorry,” you sniff. “And thank you for coming.”

“Anything for you.” You hate the way it makes your heart flip when he says that. You start to pull away from him to sit on the couch properly but his arms constrict you, keeping you to him. You frown but he asks, “I want to know what happened, if you’re ready to talk about it.”

Joshua is so close his breath fans your face. You look up at him. Silky, long lashes that you could individually count with your proximity, beautiful tan and smooth skin with a glow all witches have, pretty lips that are always the perfect shade of pink, curved upward in a permanent smile at the edges. 

Your heart starts to speed up and your mouth dries out with the way he looks at you, intense and searching. Suddenly you’re afraid if he looks too hard, he’ll see down to your core. 

“I- yeah. I need some water,” you croak, pulling away. He lets you go this time, unaware that what you really need is space between the two of you, a barrier so he can’t see. So he won’t know. “Turns out sobbing makes you thirsty.” 

Before you can get all the way to the kitchen, there’s a soft clink accompanied by a full glass of water on your counter. You glare at Joshua over your shoulder and he winces and shrugs in apology. 

As you gulp down mouthfuls of cool water, you wonder how to word exactly what you’re upset about. How you’re tired of existing in the world without your magic but you’re also unsure if you want to know the truth about why your magic left you. 

Joshua is iffy on the details about the night your sister died. He’s never asked you explicitly for the story before, but if you want to go through with finding out the root cause of your block, you know you’ll be exposed. To him. To all of them. To his coven.

The desire to be one of them is so strong that it makes your knees weak as you walk toward the couch. You sit abruptly on the couch arm, staring into the distance as you drink the rest of the water. You want to join them so much, to celebrate the sabbat holidays, to feel the rush of a closed circle of magic and yet…

Would they accept you if they knew you killed your sister? You’re not so sure. 

You look at Joshua. He waits patiently, watching you with soft eyes. Moonlight seeps in through the blinds behind him, wreathing him in silver light. He looks like a god, then. Of shadows, of night, of mystery. This best friend of yours who you love so much and who has loved you indiscriminately when he didn’t have to. 

“I talked to Jihoon about maybe doing the ritual,” you start slowly. Joshua nods, encouraging you. “And I think I came to the conclusion that I want to do it. I’m tired of feeling everyone’s magic pull at me, like a vice that I have to ignore every day. And I’m tired of wanting to do things I used to, to feel the world around me. But most of all, I just want to be a part of something. A part of a coven, a family.”

Understanding paints Joshua’s face. He reaches a hand out and takes yours, giving you a firm squeeze. “You know even with no magic, you’re our family, right?”

“It’s different.” He starts to protest but you shake your head. “I want to be in a coven and to feel the power of a circle. I want to celebrate and do rituals with you, I want to be a part of something magical. I can’t do that like this, not without the fear of draining everyone.”

He nods. “Of course. We’ll have you either way, you know? We’d still welcome you like this.”

“But I’d never be able to close your circle.” Joshua nods. He knows the truth of this. “But this ritual requires truth, and there’s some things about me that I’ve never talked to you about. Things about the night I… I could no longer do magic. I want you to be informed, to know what we might find if we do this.”

“Only if you want to tell me.”

“A coven and a working circle requires trust and honesty. I can never be one of you if you don’t know me completely.” 

He nods. “That is true.” 

“I’m going to tell you about the night that my sister died.” He squeezes your hand and nods, but says nothing else. “My sister and I were twins, both blood witches. Unusual enough for our parents and the covenstead to be incredibly proud of us, but not unusual enough for people to be afraid, you know?”

“Twins… That’s incredibly powerful.”

“Yeah,” you agree, throat tight. “We were really fond of the connection too, you know? It was nice to always have someone to rely on who was my perfect balance. We were never-” You take a breath. “Neither was more powerful than the other. There was never any jealousy or overpowering the other. We were always evenly matched.” 

“Whenever it would storm,” you continue. “I would go lay in her room. I hated storms but she loved them. I did this countless times up until we were thirteen. I don’t know… Shua, I don’t know what was different that night. I think back to it every single day, what did I do differently, was there an object I touched, a spell I used? And I come up with nothing. But on Beltane when we were thirteen, it was storming. We’d already finished the festival and our parents were out doing their duties and I went and I fell asleep in her room and… and I woke up…”

For a moment, you can’t get the words out. They get trapped in your throat and you stare, unseeing. You imagine the lightning against the window. The warmth of your sister's hands. The tree tap tap tapping against the window with the strength of the wind.

“I drained her in the middle of the night,” you whisper. It’s out now and you can’t stop, can’t look at Joshua’s face to see his reaction. “I went to sleep as normal and when I woke up, she was freezing and lifeless and I felt more powerful than I ever had before. Like I was this magical battery charged up and sparking.” 

For a moment, you pause and look at Joshua. You expect to see horror or disgust or a variety of negative emotions, but he’s still watching you. Fond. Waiting. No judgment. When he sees you staring, he gives you a tiny smile and a squeeze of your hand. 

“I’m still listening.” 

“Aren’t you…” You trail off and shake your head. “I killed my sister. Are you not horrified?”

He frowns then. “You didn’t kill your sister.”

“Yes I did.”

“You weren’t born a siphoner, how could you possibly predict that would ever happen? You didn’t get in that bed with her and then leech her magic, no matter how much it must feel that way. It wasn’t your fault, though I know hearing me say that doesn’t make it feel any less true in here.” He reaches forward and taps your heart lightly. “There is nothing I can say to ease the pain and guilt of that, but what you’re describing to me isn’t the tale of a murderer. It’s the story of someone who had a freak accident, which is more common among the magical community than one might think.”

“I don’t know what happened,” you admit, a tear escaping your eye. Before you can wipe it though, Joshua’s thumb is there, swiping across your face and collecting it. You watch with wide eyes as he cups your face, looking at you with so much something that your head spins. “But in the morning, I was alive and she was dead. And my parents and everyone else hated me for it. That’s why they treat me the way they do. Why my parents were driven to grief. Why I’m alone.”

“You’re not alone. Not anymore.” 

“How can anyone accept me like this?”

“Because it isn’t what defines you. We are not made up of only the things we do and the things that happen to us, and I promise you, this is something that happened to you.” 

“But why? Why me?”

“I don’t know,” Joshua admits. “But we’re going to find out, okay? 

“What if the others don’t want me?” 

“They would never,” he’s quick to say. He’s still holding your face, wiping tears from your eyes. “And if they did, I don’t care. I’d do the ritual myself, just to prove to you that this burden you carry isn’t your fault.” 

You crack a grin, despite the dark topic. “Yeah? You’d try and do a circle all alone?”

“I would walk through fire for you.”

You pull your face out of his hands and shove him a bit. “Fire is your favorite element, Joshua. That’s not impressive.”

His laughter fills the room and he tugs at your hands. You grapple with him as he tries to pull you down, your ache forgotten as you laugh and squeal. “Yah! Let me try and be poetic! It was the first thing that I could think of.”

Joshua overpowers you and pulls you down against his chest. Suddenly you’re very close again, your palms pressed against his chest, the thrum of his heartbeat vibrating through your fingers. You make a surprised sound as he looks up at you, gaze a little darker. A little hazy. 

Gently, Joshua reaches up and brushes his fingers across your chin. It’s featherlight and more intimate than you expect, making you blink in surprise. You’re frozen, limbs stuck and heart racing as you watch the corner of his mouth twitch upward. Suddenly the moment feels different - this feels different. 

“You have no idea what you mean to me.”

When he says it, you don’t answer at first. You think you imagine him saying it. That suddenly this has blurred into a fantasy of yours. Perhaps you’re actually asleep, soothing your pain with dreams of Joshua. Of being like this with him, pressed closed and intimate with his gaze burning. 

“What?” you whisper back, unable to string together a better response.

He doesn’t seem offended though, huffing a laugh. “You really have no idea, huh? You’ve got that massive brain up there and you don’t even use it right.”

“I don’t…”

“You’re right, we should be practicing honesty. If we’re going to lift this block on you and let you join our circle, there can’t be secrets between us. As soon as you cast in a circle with me, you’ll see everything about me, and you deserve to not be caught off guard about what you see there.”

Your heart throbs. “What would I see, Joshua?” 

“Someone who would not only walk through fire for you, but who would burn the world down for you. I seem so nice and kind, but beneath the surface, there is a heart capable of terrible things for those I love. And I do love you. Chaotically so. Painfully so. Dangerously so.” 

“I-”

“You don’t have to love me back. I’ll never hold you to it. I just need you to know what you’ll see when we link and-”

You interrupt his rambling with a kiss. It’s brief and so quick it’s barely there. You lean away from him, heart pounding, lips parted. You’re surprised at yourself, unsure when you gained the confidence to pull a move on him. 

Joshua moves faster than you can finish your sentence. He surges forward, hands skimming up your arms roughly to cup your face and pull you down to him. His mouth is like fire, consuming and warm and sparking with heat. You feel the static shift between the two of you, his magic crackling to life as he makes a noise deep in the back of his throat. 

The slide of his plush mouth against yours makes you dizzy. He sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, nipping slightly and you become ravenous. Your tongue brushes against his teeth and he makes a throaty sound again, opening up to let you deepen the kiss, tongue sweeping against his. He’s a slow kisser, dragging his tongue against yours and letting you fall fall fall into him. 

Joshua’s hands slide from your face down your shoulders and past them, stopping only at your hips where he squeezes. Your stomach flips at the contact and you twitch a little bit, grinding down into him as his kisses go from languid to a little needier. 

“Fuck,” he gasps, head tilting back. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you ask, mouth going to his jaw. You press wet kisses there, messy lips followed by your tongue, leaving a spit-slick trail. His skin makes your tongue tingle, magic vibrating. You grind your hips down again, rewarded with a whine. 

He slips his hands under the hem of your shirt and he digs his blunt nails into your hips. “You know what.”

Grinning, you bring your mouth up to his. Slowly, you lower your hips so you’re pressed flush to his, rolling them again, this time painfully slow. Your breath catches in your throat at the slow-drag friction, the feeling of him shivering underneath you.

“That?” you ask, breathless against his mouth. 

“Enough,” he hisses.

The world spins. Joshua grabs you and in a single, swift movement sits up and stands, carrying you with him. You squeal, hands shooting to grasp at his shoulders as he walks toward your room. He kicks his shin on the coffee table as he stumbles with you, balance off with the added weight.

He curses loudly and you can’t help but laugh, clapping a hand over your mouth when his sharp gaze snaps to yours. His eyes are dark dark, hungry and fathomless now as he raises a brow. “Yeah, you’re laughing?”

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” you admit.

“You’re gonna be.”

A wild thrill shoots through you as he carries you to the bedroom. You forget how strong he is, muscles flexing as he shifts you again, careful not to drop you. It makes you feel giddy, but you squeak in a moment of terror when he drops you unceremoniously on your bed, the brief moment of freefall startling.

You land with a huff and he grins down at you as he stands up against the edge of the bed, knees squeezing your legs together as he reaches behind his neck to yank at his t-shirt. You watch, slack-jawed as he pulls the material up and over his head.

Joshua is all gold and tan planes, body perfect in the low light of your room as he tosses his shirt. You take a second to admire his broad chest, dark nipples pebbling in the cool room. Dark hair trails from his belly button and vanishes in the waist of his jeans.

Seeking warmth, you reach for him. He leans forward, pressing his palms into the mattress to hover over you, knees placed on either side of your thighs. His muscles jump when you brush your hands up the softness of his stomach toward the harder muscle of his pecs. 

It feels like the sun is trapped underneath his skin, burning its way out of him as your fingers explore. You’ve never touched him like this, slow and reverant and full of unbridled desire. He watches you, drinking in the way you take him in. The way you take your time. 

“You’re beautiful,” you murmur, looking up at him. His ears turn red and he rolls his eyes. You grin, dragging your hand up to rest over his chest where his heart thuds wildly beneath your palm. “I mean here, idiot. Yeah you’re hot too, but you’re beautiful in here.” 

Unreadable emotion flits across his face. Something like joy and pain - the pain of wanting to hear that for so long, waiting for the admission. You understand the same pain of desire filled so unexpectedly that it hurts. 

Joshua kisses you again and this time with intent. He shifts and slides a knee between your legs, pressing up to the apex of your thighs. You groan and lift your hands, sliding them through his hair. The strands are silky soft and long. You twist your fingers at the nape of his neck, pulling him to you as the kiss turns messy.

Whatever this is between you is more magic than you’ve felt in years. You feel breathless as he kisses across your jaw and toward your neck, sucking harshly on the soft skin underneath your ear. You whine and he chuckles, hot breath hitting your ear.

“Why don’t you do that thing you love so much, hmm?” he asks, nipping your ear lobe. “Are you shy now? Don’t wanna grind on me?”

You do want to, but you hesitate. He encourages you, taking a hand and skimming down your waist to your ass, sliding under and squeezing your cheek as he lifts your hips in a motion to grind against him. The friction is good but not nearly enough and you let out a pitiful sound. 

“Come on,” he urges. “Do it right, then.”

Fuck. Fuck. 

You grind your cunt on his leg properly, planting your feet on the edge of the bed for leverage as Joshua’s mouth ravages your neck. You’re lost in him, letting your mind go a little empty as you seek friction, needing to relieve the pressure throbbing in your cunt.

Arousal gathers in your stomach and you feel yourself slow-drip into your panties, so turned on by the sudden confidence Joshua has when kissing you, when telling you to move. This is a side of him you’ve never explored and you dive in head first.

One hand leaving his hair, you grab his hand that’s on your ass as he continues to nip your collarbones, tongue laving over the sting of his bite. He lets you lead him by the wrist, and you guide his hand between your legs where you press his fingers to your zipper. 

“Please,” you rasp. “I need more.”

He sinks his teeth into the top of your right breast, tongue tasting your skin. “Is that so?”

“Please. You said you’d walk through fire for me.”

His laugh is loud and he buries his face in your chest. “Yeah,” he agrees with a chaste kiss to your kiss-bitten chest. “I did say that, huh?”

“Yes, so gimme.” 

“Anything For you.”

Years of friendship have erased any ability to feel awkward with Joshua but for a moment, you’re afraid it’ll be weird, touching one another like this. Joshua has no such qualms, unbuttoning your pants and yanking them down your legs with ease.

When he comes back up to lean over you, he doesn’t slot a knee between your legs. Instead, his fingers press firmly to your clothed cunt, a curse falling from his mouth as he feels how damp you are. You’re hot all over and yet you feel hotter still as he circles his fingers gently over your clit. 

“Fuck,” you sigh, lids fluttering closed. “Feels good.”

“You’re fucking drenched, all from a little kissing huh?”

“And grinding,” you add.

“Yeah, l remember, you little vixen.” You moan, lost in his lazy ministrations and pressure on your clit. It’s relieved some of the ache, but not nearly enough. “I can see on your face you already want more.” 

This time, Joshua doesn’t make you ask for it. He hooks a finger in your underwear and pulls them to the side. Immediately you feel cold air against you, but he’s quick to slide his fingers up and down your wet folds, slicking them up to trail back up and circle slowly around your clit.

“Damn you’re fucking wet,” he curses. He leans up a little, eyes fucked out. “Take the rest off for me, baby.”

Baby. It shivers through you and you comply, though a little haphazardly. It’s hard to remove your shirt and bra with the way his fingers are slowly pressing your clit, making you thrash and gasp. 

As soon as you lay back down, no shirt and no bra, Joshua is leaning forward, tongue darting out to flick against a stiffened nipple. You let out a loud moan and he hums in response, attaching his mouth to you and sucking. Fuck it feels good. You arch off the bed and his fingers leave your swollen clit to slide down your sticky mess to circle your entrance.

Gently, he sinks in a single finger. Your eyes roll back a little, pussy fluttering as he strokes your front wall. You’re tingling all over, buzzing with pleasure as he slowly fucks you with his finger, mouth busy plucking at your nipple with his teeth. 

You’re lost in it, melted into the bed as Joshua plays you like a well-tuned instrument. The heel of his palm presses against your clit, providing just enough pressure as he fingers you to send the room spinning on its axis. 

He tongue-kisses across your chest, mouth ravenous against your heaving gasps as he finds your other nipple. The tip of his tongue circles, making you keen and squirm underneath him. He watches you with dark eyes, teasing the aching bud before nipping you lightly. 

“Sensitive,” he mumbles, dragging spit-slicked lips against your breast. “Can you take another finger?”

You nod eagerly, hungry to be filled. Your orgasm is starting to build slowly, worked up by the way he mouths at you, by the way Joshua’s fingers reach so deep, pressing against your g-spot as he sinks another into your heat. 

“Shit,” you pant. “That feels so fucking good, Shua.”

“Mhmm.” He brings his mouth up to yours and your tongues tangle, teeth clinking together as he fucks you harder, the wet smack of your pussy against his palm loud. “Tight fucking pussy,” he pants, pressing hard against your front wall. Your heels dig into the bed as you try to keep up with the pleasure blooming in your stomach. “Gonna need to fuck you open a little if you’re gonna take me.”

If you’re gonna take me.

The promise of more has you rolling your hips up to meet his hand. He lets you fuck yourself on his fingers, dropping his gaze to look between your bodies. Your thighs and his stomach are slick with your juice, leaking around his fingers uncontrollably. 

When Joshua introduces another finger, you hiss. The stretch is hard and it burns. He doesn’t keep thrusting right away, letting your cunt stretch around his three digits. But he’s pressed up against your soft spot, making you see stars as he puts unrelenting pressure on your nerves. 

It feels like insanity, the way he does this to you. The way Joshua buries his face in your neck, your chests pressed together to provide friction against your teeth-marked nipples as he starts to build up a pace again, thrusting. 

“I’m gonna come,” you whisper, hands grabbing frantically at his sweaty shoulder blades. Your thighs are shaking and it’s hard to get a breath in. Your voice quakes as you gasp. “Fuck.”

“So come,” he says, as if it’s that simple. He puts weight behind the hand fucking you, quickens the pace. Presses so fucking hard you think you might blackout. “If you’re gonna come, then do it.” 

And you do. Just like that, nails digging into his shoulders, eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched, you come around his fingers. He fucks you through it, breath hot in your ear. Your knees squeeze around his hips until you’re spent, collapsing against the mattress, boneless. 

Joshua retracts his fingers. The sudden feeling of being empty makes you huff in protest and he laughs, lifting his face from your neck. You pout up at him and he kisses you again before leaning upward, straddling your legs. 

Your eyes zero in on his hands as they undo the top of his belt. His hand is covered in a wet sheen, cum-slicked and sticky. He doesn’t care, popping up the belt and pulling down the zipper of his pants. You grow eager, leaning up as he pulls the waist down, revealing the dark briefs that do nothing to hide how hard he is. 

With no warning, you reach for his clothed cock, squeezing firmly. He hisses and drops his hands, jeans only pulled halfway down his thighs. Joshua tips his head back and moans at the ceiling as you lean forward and mouth at the damp spot on his briefs, tasting him. 

“Fuck,” he swears and you grin, pressing and holding the flat of your tongue to the cloth to wet it.

You hum. Fingers dancing up his thighs, you pause at the elastic band, looking up at him through your lashes. “Can I?”

Joshua tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes half-lidded. He nods, watching and dazed as you peel the elastic down his hips slowly. You lean forward as you do, pressing a soft kiss to his hip bone. He twitches and sighs in response.

You look at his cock as it bobs against his stomach, brown tip smearing precum against his navel. You lick your lips and drag your hand up, fingers gripping his velvety shaft. He’s thick and heavy in your hand as you grasp him firmly, stroking upward. 

“Oh fuck,” he whispers, hips twitching. You grin up at him, swiping a thumb over the crown of his cock to spread the wetness down his shaft. He hums, entranced. “More.”

You don’t have to ask what he means. You lean upwards, pulling the tip of his cock toward your mouth. You slide just the tip into your mouth, suckling generously and running your tongue along the slit. His hand slips to the side of your neck, resting there but not doing anything. It’s a comforting weight as you take him in your mouth properly. 

Joshua is art above you. Chest flushed, mouth open, eyes closed. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was on his knees at worship. It is a sort of worship, the way you sink down on his cock, lips stretched wide, drool dripping down the side of your mouth and running down your jaw and neck. Is it not the spirit of loving him moving through you? Is this not heaven, looking up at him and seeing someone that has chosen you over and over again?

No pagan ritual in your life as a witch has felt like this. You swallow around him, eyes watering as you choke on his length, pulling back a little to catch your breath. Your hand squeezes him at the base, slick with your spit and his precum. Your mouth is wet and swollen as you lick the underside of his shaft, never looking away from his face.

“Fuck that mouth,” he sighs, eyes opening and looking down at you. He squeezes the side of your neck a little, fingers right against your throat. “Come on,” he murmurs. “I can’t hold out if you keep going. How do you like it?”

Instead of answering him, you pull off of him with a sloppy, wet noise. You make a show of running your tongue along your lips before turning around and crawling up the bed, wiggling your ass a little. Joshua groans as he sheds his jeans and briefs the rest of the way. 

The bed sinks when he crawls behind you. You go down on your elbows, ass up high. He smacks each cheek firmly with both hands, making you yelp as he grips the stinging flesh, squeezing. “You have a good ass.”

“It’s all those charmed cinnabons you feed me.”

He laughs loudly at that. Joshua’s hand skims down to your thighs, grabbing them and pushing them open. You sink a little lower on the bed, face pressed to the sheets and letting your eyes shut. The hair on his thighs sends a shiver up your spine as his legs brush against yours, hands roaming and squeezing your hips, your butt, your thighs.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he mutters. His hands come back over the globes of your ass and sink toward your wet cunt. You moan as his thumbs peel you open, pressing around your clenching hole. “Shit.” 

The bed bounces as he moves again and then your eyes are snapping open, fingers twisting in your sheets when you feel the flat of his tongue swipe up your pussy. He hums in delight and you’re reeling, trying to catch your breath as he licks at you.

“Just wanted a taste,” he says, more to himself than you. He sucks your clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it a few times and you nearly crumble right there at the unexpected stimulation. He slow-licks up to your hole, tracing it once before retracting his mouth. “I have all the time in the world for you to come in my mouth. Right now I just wanna feel you.”

“Yes, please.”

Your breath gets stuck when you feel the head of Joshua’s cock catch your entrance. He’s thick, and even though you’re dripping down your thighs and stretched from his fingers, the pressure of him sinking into your heat slowly sends you moaning like a wanton whore, unable to stop the sounds escaping your mouth.

Joshua is precise, hands holding your hips firmly until he’s fully seated in your cunt, your walls fluttering around him. You feel so full, his cock reaching deep enough to feel in your gut. When he pulls all the way out, you think something is wrong, but he fucks back into you hard.

“Oh shit,” you gasp, feeling the full weight of him spear you. “Holy shit.”

He doesn’t say anything but he grunts, setting a slow but deep pace. His hips snap into you with force, your knees spreading a little bit wider. He leans into it more, moving his hands to press into the small of your back. The full force of his weight pushing your hips into the bed as he slams into you makes you dizzy. 

An orgasm starts to build deep in your stomach. You claw at the bed, breaths coming out in a hiss. Joshua grabs one of your hands, pulling it backward to pin it against your lower back before doing the same to the other. You’re completely pinned under him, pushed so far into the mattress you think you might fade and vanish into foam and sheets. 

Nothing here matters but the way he fucks into you, unrelenting, heavy, precise. He says your name and it rolls off his tongue sweeter than any pastry he’s ever made. Your orgasm creeps up on you, shaking and thunderous. It feels stronger than before, a pressure that makes you start to shiver, feet kicking under him.

For a moment, he slows, pulling off you a little. “Okay?”

“Keep going,” you beg him, voice high-pitched and strange to your ears. “Please don’t stop, I’ll tell you if I can’t take it.”

That’s all he needs. He redoubles and this time, changes his direction, hits that spot inside of you head on with his cock and you think you’re going to pass out. You become lifeless under him, unable to do anything but take it. The wave of your orgasm builds and builds and builds until finally, it breaches. 

You come for a second time, no noise coming out of you. It’s all white vision and squeezed thighs and ringing ears. You think you feel something like a bolt of lightning, a snap of power so strong as you clench around Joshua that you taste static in the air. 

It’s hard to know how long it lasts. One moment you’re shaking and the next, you’re drifting, feeling weightless and exhausted. The weight of Joshua’s touch keeps you tethered and from straying too far, but you’re somewhere in between nonetheless. 

Slowly, reality drips back to you. You think you may have dozed a little, your eyes dry as you blink them open. Joshua is lying next to you, arm wrapped around you and eyes closed. He’s not breathing deep enough to be asleep, confirming it when his eyes open, sensing your gaze.

A smile lights up his face and you smile tiredly at him. Your cunt aches and your legs and arms are sore from being pinned, and you’re still a little shaky. Thoughts of your orgasm make you twitch, post-sex tremors that you can’t escape.

“Hi,” you rasp. “Did I fall asleep?”

“I think you blacked out.”

“I- what?” 

“I sort of…” he frowns. “There was like this electrical snap when I came. You clenched me so fucking hard I just… let go. I think we sort of had a magical orgasm.”

“A magical orgasm.”

He grins. “Just say thank you for the witch orgasm.”

“Ugh.” You smack his chest and he laughs hoarsely. 

It did feel like that though. Like a crackle of energy, like being struck by a storm of electricity and heat. You feel tired and heavy-limbed, but you feel sticky and sweaty too. “I need a shower.”

“Mhmm. I was waiting for you to come to.” He starts to sit up. “Come on, I’ll shower you. Then we need to sleep. We have to prepare you for your big day.”

“My big day?”

Joshua grins as he reaches a hand for you. There’s a spark again when you touch and you hesitate, feeling the well of his magic there. It hums in him, a thunderhead of power and fire. He sees your expressions and softens. “You can’t hurt me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Baby, I just fucked you until you blacked out, and you know what you didn’t do?” Your brows pull together and he smiles. “You didn’t pull an ounce of my magic from me. I think you’re a lot better at control than you think you are.”

Licking your lips, you nod and let him pull you from bed. You are good at control. You had to be after your sister. It’s something you’ve practiced nonstop, the unconscious control of your desire for magic. Even when you sleep, you wake up often, fearful of losing your grip on yourself while you slumber.

It hasn’t happened yet. And as Joshua leads you to the shower, you think… maybe it never will. Especially if the ritual goes right. Especially if you can get your magic back. 

Perhaps for the first time since you were thirteen, you feel a sliver of hope. When you look at Joshua and you feel your heart stutter, you know that even without your magic, you’ve found something.

-

“Oh for the love of the land,” Jihoon groans when you appear in the basement of Joshua’s home. “Look at the two of you.”

Everyone swivels to look at you and Joshua, who are hand-in-hand. You freeze, pulling up short to take in the candle-lit room and the other men who are all looking at you with equal parts happiness and a little bit of amusement.

You shift from foot to foot and chew your lip. Suddenly you want to turn tail and run back up the stairs and away from the watchful eyes of your friends - of Joshua’s coven members. But Joshua holds your hand tight, tugging you down the rest of the stairs into the gloom of the room.

Perhaps gloom isn’t the right word. The room is much too warm and smells of sage and thyme, a good feeling if not a little overwhelming. Outside this house, there is an entire festival going on at the park. The covenstead witches were furious when Joshua let them know that he and his members would not be participating this year, as they had private matters to attend to.

It’s common for covens to use the holiday for something specific. Perhaps to bless a witch in need, or to strengthen a spell, or to defeat some evil. You remember that night that your parents left you alone for Beltane duties to fight and remove Dissenters, and how that turned out for you.

Magic hums all around you. It’s in the sigils on the ceiling of Joshua’s sanctum and it’s in the ley lines that you can feel now more than ever as the veil between worlds thins. Each member of the coven has magic humming in their veins, a sort of signature taste and feel to it. You sense Jihoon’s deep shadows and Seungcheol’s vibrant green, taste Jeonghan’s clean water and feel Junhui’s pure air. Minghao and Joshua are the flickering flame that fills the room with light and heat, and Chan’s crackling storm greets you in the corner.

It’s hard to imagine where you fit in with them. But they don’t have a blood witch, who is all of these things wrapped into one. You know that they support you. All of you have gone over the ritual what feels like a hundred times at this point, perfecting it and making sure you know it inside and out.

The two rituals are wildly different. One to seek and find the source of your pain, led by Jihoon and Junhui. Jihoon’s shadows and connection to the other side will help seek answers and provide clarity on whatever signs and hints come through the vision you’re supposed to have, and Junhui’s strength with air will help keep you protected and clear of any negative energy.

Then, a small spell to build a bridge between the two rituals that Seungcheol will handle with Jeonghan. Seungcheol has it down to a science and has previously used it to link spells, and his affinity for earth will ground the entire circle. Jeonghan’s skill with water is to help guide you from ritual to ritual with ease and clarity. 

It’s the second half of the ritual that’s the most demanding, which is why it’s Minghao and Chan conducting the destructive half, breaking whatever stands between you and your magic. Two warriors meant to sever your block or the target of your curse, whichever it may be.

And it’s possible that you’re cursed. You have briefly spoken about what that means. About what to do. It will most likely mean something damaging and life-threatening for whoever did curse you, if you forcefully try to shatter it instead of finding the cause. 

But there’s also potential for you to be harmed if the two of them try to break it and it’s too strong. It’s a risk that you have to assess in the moment, which is terrifying. You want to do it anyway, and you’re happy to find that they support you. That they’re there for you.

Coven members already, really. 

All of them are dressed to perform a ritual. Dark robes, anointed element symbols in dark ash on their brows. Jihoon has a small circlet around his head, making you pause and tilt your head as you glance at Joshua. He sees your confusion and smiles. “Jihoon is our high priest tonight,” he murmurs. “He will start and end the circle so I can be here with you.”

Jihoon is blushing and looking up at the ceiling when you turn back to him. For him to step up and hold the circle as the beginning and end is a huge risk on him. He’ll be providing the most magic and taking on the most risk second only to you, all so that Joshua can move freer and have more control.

“Jihoon is a very powerful witch, as you know,” Joshua murmurs, steering you to the center of the room. “He holds circles for a lot of our rituals when we feel he’s better suited.” 

“Which is often,” Jihoon mutters at the ceiling where he keeps his gaze. 

“Yah, shut up, hag. Everyone get in their places.”

Joshua puts you in the very center of the room. There is a pentagram chalked in powder, but there is no glow to it, no light to signal that it’s being used. He squeezes your shoulders and you look at him, wide eyed and afraid. His smile is warm and a little nervous, but he leans in and kisses you once.

“Trust us,” he says. “This will be hard on you. But we’ve got you.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t break the circle,” he reminds you. “If you have to break, do it when Seungcheol is at the middle part and before we start the second ritual. He will open the circle a little, but it’ll be just for a moment before the second is started and locked.”

“Right. Ten second escape if I need to.”

“You only have that window if we need to stop. Once we start the second, there is no stopping until the full ritual is complete.”

“Got it.”

“Good luck,” Joshua whispers and kisses you on the brow. “I’ll be right here.”

With a deep breath, he steps to the side and grasps your hand. The two of you stand alone in the middle, you and your anchor. Silence settles over the room. You haven’t been in the middle of a circle since you were a little girl receiving her first welcome into the coven. You had done that with your sister by your side and your mother at the head of the circle.

Now, you’re with Joshua, with Jihoon at the head of the circle. Jihoon doesn’t really make eye contact with you, but you sense his calming aura even from where he stands at the first point of the circle. He rolls his shoulders and closes his eyes, lifting his palms upward. “I stand at north, the beginning and end, start this circle, spirit ascend.”

You feel the ripple of magic in the room. Fire crackles at Jihoon’s feet, making you flinch. You watch as the red flames lick toward Junhui, who is quick and light as he murmurs, “I stand northeast, to cleanse and protect, continue the circle, spirit to the next.”

You watch the flame as it sparks to life, moving clockwise around the room. Every time a member joins the circle, you feel the power thrum through the room, the pentagram beneath your feet beginning to glow. The flame comes all the way back around to Jihoon and he closes it, eyes opening and looking right at you.

Jihoon looks different than before, eyes shadowed and full of stars. “Begin,” he commands, voice like a thousand whispers. 

A little spike of fear goes through you as Junhui begins to chant. You recognize the Latin immediately but your unpracticed ears lose trace of the meaning. It’s picked up slowly in the room and you feel your palms slick with sweat as the light of the pentagram pulses beneath your feet, the flames flickering around the feet of the coven members.

Jihoon’s voice picks up the chant like you’ve never heard him before. It’s uncanny and you lean into Joshua, who squeezes your hand and looks down at you.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “This happens when he leads a circle. Veil is thin.”

Nodding your head, you turn to the front again, feeling the itch to pull power from the circle, to draw their magic into you. There’s so much of it filling the room, an open tap of water spilling into the sink. You dig your teeth into your bottom lip, worried that you won’t be able to resist, worried that you’re going to pull from the magic and-

A wave of dizziness hits you. You gasp and bend over, hand circling your middle as though you’ve just been punched. Joshua’s hands are on your back but you can’t hear him, a high-pitched ringing drowning out the sound of his voice. For a second, you’re lost in the sensation of having the air sucked from your lungs and the whine in your ears getting higher and higher.

Just when you think that your ear drums will burst, the ringing stops. There is a hushed whisper filling your ears and you still can’t catch your breath. The room spins a little and when you look up expecting to see Jihoon, all you see is dark trees and a blurry shadowy… building. Something. 

The whispers creep up on you. There are so many of them, hundreds - no, thousands - of voices brushing against you, dragging their fingers along your skin, touching you, hissing, singing, screaming. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced and their words are jumbled, sliding over one another.

Terror begins to claw at you. You try to remain calm, remembering that these are not the voices of spirits or something evil. Junhui is commanding this ritual, an element of purity and guidance. He won’t let anything bad happen to you.

With faith in your future coven member, you try to focus on the voices. Try to decode them. Seungcheol warned you that the messaging might be confusing. That you might not follow or understand what it’s saying. Symbols, images, key words. You need to reach for anything that seems like something, that can point to the origin of your block and follow it. 

Jihoon’s presence presses at the back of your mind. It startles you at first, to feel who you know is innately Jihoon. You follow the press of whatever he’s doing and you catch a few words that fly by you: little hut little hut. Little hut little hut. Little hut little hut. 

Unsure what it means, you cling to that. Little hut. It means something… you remember something about it. Jihoon’s presence fades away, satisfied that you’ve picked up on whatever it is he sees or senses. 

Flipping through memories, you try to remember why a hut might mean anything to you. There were no huts by your town… nothing that you can remember no one you know of. 

Little hut, little hut.

One memory sticks with you. Your sister playing in the background, hopscotching to a little tune that Mila down the street whispered to her about a witch in the woods. 

Little hut, little hut

Hidden in the wood

Little hut, little hut

Up to no good

Yes, you think. A rhyme about a witch who lived in the woods. More thing than witch, really. A shadowy being that took the shape of a hut, a creature of magic and curses that could be found in the darkest part of the woods when the veil is thin. 

Little hut, little hut

Alone in the gloom

Little hut, little hut

Silent as a tomb

You see it now. The blurry shape of a house that’s not really a house. The witch in the wood was a blood witch once, it was said. A witch who had long since dissented and practiced arcane magic, following a path that led her here. That led her to this. A thing of the woods. 

It occurs to you the weight of the appearance of her. This hut in the woods. Jihoon’s flippant remark about you being cursed is suddenly real.

Dread drops down in your stomach like a weight. You can’t hear anything beyond the rhyme, the chant to find the witch of the woods. You’re cursed, you realize. All the fear that your condition was self-inflicted, that it was your fault, that this was something you did. 

This is something that happened to you, Joshua had said.

And he was right. Someone cursed you - did this to you. A child. 

Out there in the world, there is someone responsible for the death of your sister. Someone who took your magic, who turned you into a leech. The reason for your family's pain, the reason for them throwing you away. For your father and mother being driven mad, for the town turning against you.

You think about the rock that hit you just days ago. Thrown by a child taught to hate you. Taught that it was okay to hurt you because it was you. The town siphoner. A witch who couldn’t make her own magic, a parasite. 

Anger wells up inside of you and you latch onto the rhyme swirling around your head, clawing through it. This is the thread you must follow to find your curse giver. This is the clue.

Little hut, little hut

Across the dark stream

Little hut, little hut

Wait for the scream

Dully, you are aware that Joshua is next to you. You see him from the corner of your eye but it’s not Joshua at all. Well - not as you now know him. This Joshua is younger - a teenager by the looks of it. He’s not doing anything except staring out into the darkness. He fades in and out like a bad TV picture, glitching and blurring. But you know it’s him. 

His face is different though. Twisted in grief and pain, a frozen picture of angst. You imagine this is what you looked like when your sister died, a tableau of hurt and hate. 

Little hut, little hut

I call to thee

Little hut, little hut

Come to me

The Joshua in front of you fades away. You reach out for him but your hands cut through empty air and darkness. He’s not really there and you have a hard time grasping the meaning of this. The voice sounds almost like Joshua but not quite. Not as mature. 

Young Joshua doesn’t show up again. You can feel the real Joshua somewhere in the mess of the vision and the darkness, but you can’t hear him. Can’t see him. There is only the omnipresent darkness of the hut and the whispers of voices. 

Little hut, little hut

Hear my strife

Little hut, little hut

Ruin this life 

There’s a flash of lightning. A storm in the darkness, splashes of purple and blue electricity. You cover your eyes as you hear thunder, low and soft somewhere. Across from you, your sister appears. She’s a fraternal twin who looks nothing like you except in the eyes. Your eyes look right back at you.

She’s the same age she was when she died. When you took her magic away. When you were cursed. She looks the same age as the apparition of Joshua, and you try to understand. To make the connection from what you're seeing as the lightning lances again like it did that fateful night.

The rhyme keeps circling in a hurricane of whispers. 

As the ritual comes to a close, the vision begins to fade. You’re no better off than where you started and in a panic, you reach for the vision of your sister. You just want to hold her one last time, to feel the warmth of her skin.

But she isn’t real and she fades as Junhui’s chanting falls to a murmur and then to a whisper, the air returning to normal. You can breathe again, and as you look up from where you’re bent over, you see Joshua kneeling on the ground in front of you, holding you by the shoulders. His face is swimming with fear and concern, gaze searching.

Joshua looks so much like his younger self. He’s matured into his face and is a handsome man, but he was a cute teenager. His face now is full of love and concern, but you think about his face in your vision. Twisted in pain and years. 

Little hut, little hut

Hear my strife

Little hut, little hut

Ruin this life 

You straighten up suddenly, knocking him over on his ass as you do so. It feels like you’ve been slapped as you stare at him, a sudden buzz in your ears as you stare and stare and stare. The ritual comes to an end and Seungcheol opens the circle - a foot in the door, more like - and begins to start his spell for Minghao and Chan to weave the new ritual into the circle. 

Without thinking about it, you dash for the edge of the circle. Joshua yells but you’re fast, surging between Seungcheol and Jeonghan where the door exists. Seungcheol’s head snaps to look at you, eyes wide and mouth open.

“Close it and close the circle,” you pant. 

“I-”

“Close the fucking circle!”

All eyes turn to you. They hesitate for a moment, the flames around them wavering. You can feel the power licking at their heels and something like rage shudders through you. You don’t know where to channel it yet and you begin to pace as Seungcheol recloses the circle and turns to Jihoon. 

Slowly, Jihoon begins to finish the ritual. They work backward from Jihoon to Chan to Minghao to Jeonghan. You don’t look at them, wringing your hands as you pace back and forth, heart reaching a wild beat. 

Images fly by. The hut, the whispers, Joshua’s face, the thunderstorm, your sister. 

The narrative isn’t straightforward. You don’t quite understand the rhyme, or its function, but the second half sounds bad, sounds perhaps like a plea. A bargain. A need for a curse. You recall the thunderstorm on the night of Beltane, the way your sister watched with wide eyes while you sought her out. You think of Joshua’s affinity for fire and storms, the way he can command thunder just by being upset. You think of his face, so full of pain and hate. 

Finally, they finish the circle. Joshua rushes to you, hands outstretched and a question on his mouth but you jerk away from him. 

“Did you curse someone?” you demand, making him pull up short. He opens and closes his mouth. The silence in the room is deafening. You can hear your own heartbeat, pulse throbbing in your ears. “Joshua, did you curse someone?”

“I… what does that have to do with-”

“Little hut, little hut. Hear my strife. Little hut, little hut. Ruin this life.” 

Three things happen then. The first is Joshua’s confusion as he shakes his head, lost as to why you’re repeating a rhyme back to him. Then a flicker of memory followed by the drain of color on his face. He straightens up, blanched and shakes his head back and forth as he takes a step away from you.

“No,” he says and takes another step back. “That’s not right, I didn’t curse you.”

“What did you do?” 

“I didn’t curse you,” he says again. He seems lost in it though, like he’s saying it to himself. Jihoon takes a step toward Joshua and he holds out a hand, warding Jihoon off. “I cursed the witches responsible for killing my parents. I didn’t curse you.” 

“You cursed someone?” Minghao hisses from across the circle. “And you never thought to mention it in preparation for this?”

“Shut up, Minghao,” Joshua snaps. “I didn’t curse her. I did go into the woods that night to find the hut witch and I cursed the people responsible for killing my parents. I didn’t even know you then.” 

“Did you give a name? What did you say?” 

“I didn’t know their names!” He answers, frantic and looking at you pleadingly. “I didn’t - no. I remember it, I shared my blood with her, to show the memory. I saw their faces, but I didn’t know their names. We were -” his voice cracks and he clutches his hands against his chest, tears in his eyes. “I was so afraid when they came. We’d been going from town to town, trying to get away. My parents wanted to go back home, overseas. We just had to get there and then these witches, they came and blew down the door and they killed them.”

“So you cursed them based on a memory?”

“Yes,” he insists. “Baby, I didn’t curse you. How could I? How would I?”

Little hut, little hut

Hear my strife

Little hut, little hut

Ruin this life 

“Joshua.” You say his full name, voice ringing and calmer than you feel. Your stomach is in knots and you feel your mouth water, hinting at the nausea working its way up your throat. “Did you ask the blood witch in the hut to ruin the lives of the witches who killed your parents?”

“Yes.”

“Were your parents Dissenters killed on the night of Beltane?”

A long stretch of silence takes up the space between you. You stare at Joshua and he becomes a stranger. Become another person on the street that looks at you with hate. Another face in the dozens of the town who don’t care if you exist. 

When Joshua says nothing, it means everything. The final piece of information slots its way in and you feel like you’re going to crack open like an egg and spill out. Gooey and yolk-yellow. 

“That was why there was a storm,” you whisper. “Because you were angry and upset, wherever it was that you were. And you cursed my family. Not my parents. Our entire family. That’s why I lost my magic and siphoned my sister to death. That’s why my parents were driven to madness and their eventual end. It’s why everyone hates me. You cursed me with ruin.”

“I…” Joshua shakes his head but can’t make the words come out. 

There is no way out now. You get everything picture perfect for the first time. It’s the perfect curse, really. Driving your family to ruin in different ways. Pushing you, the final member of the family, to the person you would eventually fall in love with, to the person that cursed you.

You turn and run. He tries to run after you but someone stops him. He has his coven to comfort him for what he’s done and you have nothing and no one. Just how you started. 

Your runaway is messy. Tripping over thresholds, slipping down stairs. Night stretches over the world and the air is thrumming with energy. You think it would be so easy to tap into, to take and take and take the magic around you that echoes from the Beltane festivals. Would anyone even notice if you took a little?

Still, you don’t. Hot tears blind you as you stumble into the woods behind Joshua’s house. It’s not the best shortcut when you’re distraught and overcome with tears, but you think you can get to your apartment building by memory alone. 

Around you, the world grows darker and quieter. Eventually, all you can hear is your ragged breathing and sniffling as the tears freefall. Something prickles on your skin and you slow your tangled escape to look around you.

The woods are unfamiliar. At least, they seem darker and hazier, like you’re somewhere that looks like the woods behind Joshua’s house but isn't quite right. You’re more careful as you move forward, one foot in front of the other. 

A breeze cools the back of your neck. It makes you shiver, feeling more like a finger running down your spine than the actual wind. A whisper of noise wisps by you and you stop, frowning. Trying to grasp the words as they float by, indiscernible. 

You start walking again, following the sound of a voice that is always just a little too far ahead. A little too soft spoken for you to make out the words. When you do manage to catch up, you hear a soft little rhyme. 

Little hut, little hut

Hidden in the wood

Little hut, little hut

Up to no good

Little hut, little hut

Alone in the gloom

Little hut, little hut

Silent as a tomb

Little hut, little hut

Across the dark stream

Little hut, little hut

Wait for the scream

Something like a high-pitched wail rings out behind you. Your limbs lock and goosebumps explode over your arms and legs as you slowly crane your neck to look in the direction that you came. There’s no clear path, just tangled trees and darkness. 

A soft buzz tingles along your skin. You sense the magic, static that you can’t hear but you can feel and taste on your tongue. Slowly, you turn back to face the direction you’re walking. There is a tiny little stream in front of you, trickling and black.

Carefully, you step over it. Your hands quake. Sweat gathers on the nape of your neck and your upper lip, your mouth trembling as you see the vague shape of a hut. Or perhaps it's just the idea of a hut, with a hole for a door that looks endless. Void. Dark. 

You think about your sister. See her face swimming in front of you, so full of life. Then it drains of color as you bleed her dry and steal everything from her. Every drop, turning her from a beautiful girl full of the sun and the sky into a husk. 

You clench your fists. 

Vengeance can’t bring her back. Vengeance can’t make them love you. But it can take away this fucking hurt inside of you, the pain that you have carried for so long that it feels like a wound that will never close. So you decide to take a page out of Joshua’s book.

“Little hut, little hut,” you whisper, voice shaking. “Feel my ache. Little hut, little hut, make him break.” 

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[cookiescribble]

Choose Me, Love Me

A/N: oops got a little more angsty than usual 😬 i had this in my head for a while and finally was able to write it, so I hope it came out well! (also I have no idea how guns work but i’m just going to pretend that i do for the sake of the plot 😅) - mod angel

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your temper runs high after a miscommunication during a case, making you feel like your relationship is in trouble. (based on 1x18)

CW: angst (that gets resolved), anxiety, jealousy.

~~~

It had been a long day. 

You came to check on Spencer when you had a lull in your schedule, since you knew he was the only one in charge of watching the victim. You figured he might be having a hard time with babysitting duty. 

Instead, you came in to find the house completely empty. This immediately gave you an uneasy feeling, so you took out your gun as a precaution. It was currently loaded with blanks, since you didn’t want to shoot the victim as a knee-jerk reaction if you were surprised. 

You cautiously walked through the house, a feeling of dread creeping through you. Eventually, you found the backyard doors wide open, and you approached them tentatively. You saw movement in the pool, but you didn’t have time to feel relieved that everyone was alive and safe. 

You saw Spencer, in the pool, being pulled in by his tie, looking like he was about to kiss the woman he was in charge of protecting. 

You felt a surge of emotions so intense you couldn’t even identify all of them; anger? Jealousy? Resentment? Anguish? Heartache? Whatever you were feeling, it wasn’t good. 

You couldn’t even rationalize yourself before acting; it was almost as if your body was moving on its own, since your mind was overloaded with emotions. Suddenly you were pulling out your gun, shooting a blank right at the edge of the pool, away from the both of them but close enough to make them jump. 

They practically jumped out of their skin in fright, probably thinking the unsub had come while they weren’t paying attention. They turned to look at you, your gun still pointed at the pool. A mix of confusion and annoyance was on the girl’s face, but Spencer looked practically petrified, his eyes wide and remorseful. 

You looked at both of them before you spoke, spitting out venom with each word because of how angry you were at that moment. “You’re lucky the unsub isn’t here. You would both be dead before you could even react.” With that, you just turned to walk away, striding back into the house. 

You heard Spencer calling your name, his voice strained and emotional. You didn’t turn back to look at him. You couldn’t. You had to hold your breath to stop yourself from sobbing. 

You heard Derek and Elle approaching from outside the yard, saying something about finding paparazzi taking pictures in the bushes. You heard their voices quickly getting quieter and quieter as you were angrily striding away, but you could still hear their confusion. 

“What’s wrong with her?” You heard Elle ask. “What the hell did you do? She’s pissed.”

You heard footsteps starting to follow you before they were cut off, and you could picture Derek putting a hand on Spencer’s chest when he said. “Kid, I know you don’t know women that well, so let me tell you: do not follow her right now.”

“But-“ Spencer’s voice came out shaky, agonized. “I have to talk to her-“

“No, you don’t,” Derek cut him off. “Not right now. You’re only going to make things worse. You can’t rationalize your way through that kind of anger.”

You guessed his words got through to Spencer, since you didn’t hear anyone following you after that. 

You strode through the house until you reached the car you drove here in, getting in the driver’s seat and slamming the door behind you. You ran a shaky hand through your hair, trying to calm yourself before hitting your hands once against the steering wheel. You put your head in your hands, biting your tongue to keep yourself from yelling. You couldn’t even cry; all your thoughts were jumbled in your head, your heart thrumming so hard in your chest you thought it was going to burst out of it. 

You sat in that purgatory of emotions, sometimes letting out tearless sobs, wanting to scream but having the slightest self control and just containing the sound to sobs. After what felt like a very long time, you heard your cell phone go off, indicating you have a text. You pulled it out of your pocket and looked at the screen:

HOTCH: Come to the station. Now. 

You huffed, throwing your phone in the passenger seat before starting the car. I guess word got back to Hotch already, you thought. 

You tried to compose yourself on the drive back to the station, attempting to figure out some kind of excuse for why you shouldn’t be fired. Hopefully you didn’t have to resort to begging. 

You walked through the station, trying to keep an even pace and a level head. But every time you remembered what you saw, you were filled with anger all over again. By the time you got to the door, your emotions were at a loud simmer. 

Hotch was sitting at a table in a closed off room, looking up at you as you walked in, his face as stoic as always. He gestured to a chair across the table from him. “Sit.”

You closed the door behind you, swallowing and taking a deep breath. This felt like being called into the principal’s office and being grounded by your parents at the same time. 

You took your seat across from Hotch, crossing your legs, trying to compose yourself as he spoke directly. “Care to explain yourself?”

You gritted your teeth as you remembered what happened, the anger making your blood boil all over again. “I went to check out the situation. They were being careless, so I wanted to show them that they needed to be more careful.” You tried your best to keep your voice level, but there was still a hint of animosity. 

“They were being careless?” He raised an eyebrow at you, his voice stern. “You don’t think firing a gun that close to an agent and a victim is just as, if not more, careless?”

You flared your nostrils, angry and ashamed all at once. “I fired a blank-“

“And that’s the only reason  why you’re not fired right now,” he cut you off. “I should be writing a termination letter right now, and I would be if there were real bullets in that gun.” 

You huffed, crossing your arms. “They were out in the open while the unsub, who I don’t think I have to mention has been shooting people in the head, was out looking for the victim. I was trying to protect them.”

He looked at you the whole time you spoke, boring holes into your face. You didn’t even think he blinked this whole time. 

His voice was still stern, but it was now a bit quieter. “Really? Are you sure this is about the safety of the victim, and not your personal relationship?”

You let out a frustrated breath, pinching the bridge of your nose. The team had recently found out about your relationship with Spencer, so there was no avoiding this question. “No,” you lied. “It’s not personal. All professional.” There was no point in lying; he’d be able to see right through you. But you couldn’t admit to your boss that you were tempted to shoot a victim because she put her hands on your boyfriend. 

Hotch’s expression never changed, but you could tell he didn’t believe you. “I don’t want you out in the field for the rest of this case.” He held out his hand, and he didn’t have to say anything for you to know he was asking you to give him your gun. 

You reached for your holster and placed the gun in his hand, more forcefully than you should’ve. “Can I go now?”

He started to stand up, but spoke sternly before he did. “This is a job that cannot let actions be clouded by personal feelings. Your judgment needs to be impartial and professional, and not dictated by emotions. Do I make myself clear?”

You nodded curtly, letting out a deep breath before replying, “Crystal.”

He nodded back at you, standing up and motioning towards the door. “We’ll talk more about this later.”

You walked out the door, rubbing your face with your hands, the stress from the day making your whole body tense. 

You started to walk towards the exit when you heard a voice addressing you. “So, how screwed are you?”

You looked over to see Elle, who probably eavesdropped on most, if not all, of the conversation. You sighed, shaking your head. “Well, I still have a job. That’s about the only good thing that has happened today.”

She leaned on the wall, crossing her arms. “Why’d you do that? What happened?”

You buried your face in your hand, feeling the surge of anger again. You didn’t even try to hide it this time. “I went to the house because I figured Spence could use some help, or at least some company. But when I got there, that… that…” You bit your tongue, stopping yourself from calling her every bad name you could think of. “She was all over him, and if I didn’t do something she would’ve kissed him.” You sucked in a breath, feeling like tears were going to start coming if you didn’t hold your breath. 

She nodded, waiting for you to finish before speaking. “And? Would it really be the end of the world if that happened? Just a little kiss?”

You crossed your arms, your nails digging into your skin. “I just… I couldn’t let it happen. She’s this gorgeous Hollywood model, actress, whatever. If she’s interested in him, why would he want to be with me?” A sob escaped your lips involuntarily as you admit what’s been in the back of your head this whole time. “And I really don’t want that to happen, because… I love him.”

“Have you told him that?” She asked, her voice light but serious. 

You paused before shaking your head. Your relationship with Spencer was still relatively new, and you hadn’t exchanged “I love you”s yet, even though you felt it every time you looked at him

“I think it’s time you do, then,” she replied. “If it’s this important to you.”

You just nodded, knowing she was right. You wanted to tell him for a while now, but you were scared. Scared of your own feelings, of his potential reaction… everything. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. “I… have to go back to the hotel. I’m gonna take some time alone to think.”

She waved you off, nodding, and you finally walked back to your car, knowing you needed to sort this all out in your head. 

…

You were lying down on the hotel bed, alone with your thoughts all day, and you hadn’t heard anything about the case from anybody. You hadn’t even realized how late it had gotten when you heard a soft, familiar knock on the door. 

You held your breath, hoping that he would go away if you didn’t answer. You sat in darkness for a while, ignoring when he asked to come in. Finally, you heard a click in the door and you cursed silently, forgetting you had given Spencer a key to your room when you got here. 

You couldn’t look at him, opting instead to look at the wall opposite him. His footsteps were slow and careful, as if he were approaching a rabid animal. “… Please,” he started, his voice quiet and meek. “Just let me explain what happened today.”

You crossed your arms, still looking away from him. You knew he was making those big, pleading eyes at you, and you wouldn’t be able to handle seeing that right now. You kept silent, but you didn’t make him leave. 

He saw that as a good sign, and approached you, sitting at the edge of the other side of the bed. “Listen, nothing happened between us.” He spoke quietly, his voice level but sincere. “I didn’t know what was happening. I was panicking, trying to think of how to politely turn her down, but everything was happening so fast and I…” He trailed off, taking a deep breath. “… I messed up. I admit that. But I didn’t mean to.”

You listened to his voice, which somehow still sounded like music to your ears even though his words were filled with remorse. You just stayed still, taking everything in, not trusting yourself enough to try to respond. 

He tried to move into your line of sight, standing in front of you, but you kept your head down. 

“… I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I’m so sorry. You have every right to be angry with me, just…” His tone was so dejected, and you could tell he was truly pouring his heart out. “… Please, look at me.”

You took a deep breath, slowly picking your head up and meeting his eyes. He was making the exact face you expected, his big, sad eyes silently begging you to say something. 

You tried to search for any words to say, but they all got caught in your throat. Your lip started to quiver as a tear finally fell from your eye. You squeezed your eyes shut, taking a shuddering breath. “I…” you started, shaking your head as if that would put all your thoughts in order. “I don’t…”

You opened your eyes to look at him again, and you could feel all your anger crumbling, disappearing all at once. Which only made it feel worse. His somber eyes made your heart ache, and you just couldn’t be the cause of them anymore. After a pause, you patted the seat next to you, and he moved to you immediately, like a puppy commanded to sit. 

You took a deep breath, looking down. “… I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did, obviously. I was way over the line.” You wrung your hands together, staring at them as if they were the most interesting scenery right now. “I just, seeing you with her… I felt like all my fears were coming true. That you wanted someone else… someone better than me.” Tears started rolling down your cheeks now. “I know I’m not as pretty as her, and I thought, why would you ever want me if someone like that is within reach?” You rubbed your eyes, shaking your head. “I never thought I could feel jealousy like that, but… every bad thought I’ve ever had about myself came rushing through my head, and I thought for sure I was going to lose you.” You swallowed hard, finally looking at him again, letting the words roll off your tongue before you could take them back. “And I couldn’t bear it, because… I love you.” 

You could hear his breath hitch, bracing yourself. For what? Something bad? Something good? 

He looked straight into your eyes, his hand tilting your chin up towards him. “I love you too,” he spoke, as if he’d never been more sure of anything in his life. “And I would never replace you with anyone. You’ll never need to be jealous. I barely even gave her a second glance, and I only did because I had to protect her. It’s my job.” He wiped a tear off your cheek, his touch gentle and slow. “If I thought she was going to come onto me, I would’ve asked somebody else to go to the house.”

You could finally breathe again, the tears in your eyes now happy ones after hearing his words, a confession of love. You threw your arms around him, burying your face in his neck. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, and he pressed his cheek to the top of your head. “I love you,” he repeated, his voice radiating such warmth and affection. 

“I love you,” you said again, as if testing the sound it made, like tuning an instrument. It sounded better each time you said it. 

You just sat there in each others’ arms for a while, neither of you speaking a word, just letting the feelings sink in. After a while, once all the tension faded, you both pulled back, looking at each other and smiling. 

After another few moments, you spoke lightheartedly. “I’m really glad you feel the same way, because I definitely almost got fired over this.”

He laughed softly, slight concern in his eyes. “But you didn’t, right? I still get to see you at work every day?”

“We’ll see,” you responded. “Hotch said we have to talk again, so… I’m not out of the woods yet.”

He hugged you to his chest, a hand running through your hair. “I can vouch for you. Maybe it’ll help.”

You smiled at the affectionate touch, leaning into it. “How about you talk to him, and I just skip it altogether?”

He shook his head, a playful smile on his face. “I love you, but I can’t perform miracles.” 

You stayed together the rest of the night, even sleeping in the same room even though you never did that when you were out on a case. It was like you didn’t want to be apart now that you both understood your feelings better. You felt like you could get through anything together now. 

[giuseppe-yuki]

who is that?

max verstappen x ragdoll cat shapeshifter!reader

w.c.: 1.9k

warnings: suggestive content, curse words, jealous!max

part of my shapeshifting!reader series

summary: who is that cat that max is playing with in the rb garage that is not you?

picture credits from pinterest :)

sitting on an elevated ball cat bed that was custom designed with max’s emblem on the side, it wasn’t hard to see that you were a little spoiled. hell, you even had your own minifridge stocked with fresh fish, veggies, fruit, and meat that max specifically ordered for you. at first, you had advocated against having your little corner of the red bull garage, not wanting to take up too much space, but max had convinced not only you but also christian to build the little cat corner, because who could ever say no to a three-time world champion? 

now, you were sitting daintily on the soft cushion of the bed, watching max finish the last of his fp1 laps. to no one’s surprise, he had the quickest time, being faster than charles by a third of a second. 

feeling a bit hungry, you let out a few mewls, sending a few of the engineers scurrying your way. ha, you thought. i have them wrapped around my finger. 

“you hungry, little kitty?” one of the engineer asks, petting your head. 

you blink your signature blue ragdoll cat eyes at her.

immediately, she jumps up, and strolls to your mini fridge. gingerly, she takes out some pre-prepared raw chicken out of the refrigerator, along with a couple of strawberries. after cutting up both items into small enough pieces with scissors stored on the side of the fridge, she sets the food in a small bowl in front of your cat bed. 

you jump off your elevated bed and walk a few laps around the engineer’s legs, rubbing your fur against her legs in a show of appreciation. the other engineers all coo in adoration, tilting their heads and smiling at you. you approach the bowl on the ground and gobble down the chicken and strawberries, quick. 

deciding you want pets now, you hop into another engineer’s lap and purr, which evokes him to start scratching your chin. but before he could give you any more pets, max pulls into the garage along with checo, signaling to you that fp1 was over. the engineer sets you back on the ground to start assessing the rb20 with everyone else. 

to your left, hannah schimtz strolls in from the pitlane, one hand clutching her headpiece and another holding a clipboard. you pad over to her through the chaos of the garage and jump onto her leg. she chuckles before setting down her things on a counter and picking you up. she gives you a few pats on the head, earning her a meow of happiness from you. gianpiero lambiase appears out of nowhere next to hannah, but you don’t mind as he starts stroking your fur. you nuzzle into hannah’s team kit in gratitude. 

when you lift your head and look across the room, you see your boyfriend has already gotten out of his car and standing next to checo. checo is animatedly talking with his hands, occasionally gesturing towards his car, but max is not looking at him. he stares directly at you in hannah’s arms, cool blue eyes staring you down. its filled with a familiar fondness, but it is also tinted with an emotion you don’t see often- jealousy. 

he turns and walks towards you, leaving checo looking at his retreating figure with a confused look on his face. (poor checo, you think.) 

“i’m going to hold my cat now,” he says pointedly to hannah, emphasizing the “my”. he snatches you out of hannah’s arms and holds you gently to his chest. you think you can hear his heartbeat through his sweaty fireproofs. 

turning on his heel, he yanks the driver radio earbuds out of his ear, one-handedly throws it on the counter behind his car, grabs you tight, and bolts out of the garage towards his driver room. 

“don’t you think that was a little much back there, maxie?” you question, lifting your head off his chest and peering at him. 

“umm, no, not really,” your boyfriend says. he squeezes you closer to him on the bed in his driver’s room, tangling your legs together.

you thread your fingers into max’s, using your other hand to fiddle with his fan-made mv1 bead bracelets and trace the patterns on his silver cartier bracelet. “if i may,” you start, lips close to the shell of his ear, “i would say…you were a little jealous back there- snatching me out of hannah’s arms. i just wanted a few pets, that’s all.” 

he pouts, scrunching his nose. he pulls himself away from you and adjusts himself on the bed, laying on his side and propping one hand on the side of his head. you can see the dark spots on his pillow where his head was, leftover droplets of water from getting out of the shower. he adjusts the simple black shirt that he pulled from his drawers a few minutes ago, and blinks at you innocently. 

“no i wasn’t,” he defends himself. “i just simply wanted to hold my pretty girlfriend after racing hard on the track after fp1.” 

you roll your eyes. “sure baby,” you giggle. he was such a lousy liar. it was kind of cute seeing him jealous though. you lean closer to him, laser focused on his soft lips. “just know that you’re the only person that can do this-” 

before you can put your glossy lips on his, max’s phone starts to buzz. 

he curses, pulling out his phone. “who the fuck is calling me?” 

the caller id lights up, showing the words ‘christian horner’ in blaring white letters. 

he scrambles off the bed, and turns to you. “i’m sorry, i have to take this,” he says apologetically. “i will be back, though.” he gives you a wink before walking out of the room.

lying on the bed by yourself, fix your hair a bit before pausing. “no way christian fucking horner just cockblocked me!” you say aloud, giggling to yourself.

two hours before fp2 starts, you find yourself in the paddock bathroom. you smooth down your hair, reapply your makeup, and start smothering lipgloss on your lips when you hear a voice behind you. 

“hey there, you’re max’s girlfriend, right?” a girl in a pretty patterned tube top and jeans smiles at you, tilting her head in question. 

“oh, yes, that’s me!” you respond, smiling back at her. before she can respond, you reach your hand out, and pluck a white feather off the back of her top. “you had a feather stuck on the back of your top by the way,” you explain to her, tossing it in the trash can next to the sinks. 

“haha thanks, i have no idea how that got there!” she says, scratching her head. she then reaches out her hand. “i’m oscar’s girlfriend by the way. nice to meet you!”

you strike up a conversation while she touches up her own makeup, even exchanging numbers. 

she was in the middle of explaining a funny story how she apparently “stole water” from the red bull motorhome when she pauses and points to a spot near your shoulder. 

“there’s like a pretty big bruise on your shoulderblade!” she says concerningly. “is everything alright?” 

you look at yourself in the mirror, and sure enough is a bruise, small enough to not be seen from far away, but too big to cover up unnoticeably. god, you were gonna kill max on sight. 

you struggle to come up with an appropriate excuse to tell oscar’s girlfriend. “i- um was kind of clumsy and bumped into a shelf in max’s driver’s room, and like- a giant vase art piece thingy fell on me!” 

she gasps in shock, “omg, what? i hope you’re okay now!”

you nod your head quickly. “yeah, i’m totally fine,” you say. “the vase didn’t even hurt that much.” 

after covering the hickey bruise with at least a half a gallon of concealer, you hurry over to the red bull garage. max must be a little worried, considering you were gone a little longer than expected because you were talking to oscar’s girlfriend. to your surprise, max is sitting on one of the data analyst’s chair, dangling a toy fish on a string over the head of a ragdoll cat. the cat bats at it, meowing.

“what the actual fuck are you doing? and who is that?” you burst out, marching over to max. this better be a prank, you think to yourself.

to your surprise, there is not a hint of held-back laughter on max’s face- only shock. “wait what?” he says, stunned. “if you’re here..then who is…?” he trails off. the cat sits on the ground between you both, blinking its blue eyes innocently. 

GP walks up to you and max, not noticing both of your shocked faces. he bends down and picks up the cat, cooing. “i know one of the engineers fed her earlier, but you don’t mind if i feed this one a bit of fish do you?” he doesn’t wait for an answer before stalking off to the fridge with the cat. 

you turn to max, eyes blazing. 

“i swear! i thought that was you!” he whispers to you frantically.

by the time fp2 was over, you were already back in max’s driver room. the door busts open, and in runs a sweaty max. he starts rambling (or should i say maxplaining?) the second the door is open- “omg, baby where is the cat? after fp2, i talked to gp and he said that you left with ten minutes left in fp2 with the cat? please please please tell me you did not kill the cat, i swear i did not know that it was not you! it was a random stray cat that somehow found its way into the paddock! i won’t even touch another cat ever again please?” 

he turns the corner of his driver’s room to find you in your cat form snuggling on the bed with a sleeping ragdoll cat. you turn to blink your glittering blue eyes at him while keeping a paw protectively around the other cat. 

your boyfriend sits down on the couch, relief oozing out of him. he gives both of you some head scratches. “i really thought you took the cat and killed it or something,” he exclaims. he then heads to the mini cooler next to his rack of race suits and pops open a can of red bull. when he turns back around, you are now sat next to the cat, running your hands over its soft fur.

“you really think i would do that, maxie?” you say, raising an eyebrow. 

he goes back into panic mode, trying to defend himself. “no, no, no, i just meant-”

you cut him off, laughing. “relax, baby, i’m just messing with you. besides, i think we have a new member in our family now! what should we name him?” 

max sighs with relief, and comes to sit next to you on the bed. he says the first name that pops into his mind. “how about we name him jimmy?” 

you raise your eyebrow for the second time. “jimmy?” you say incredulously. “you want to name the cat jimmy?”

“okay, okay,” he says, holding his hands up. “how about…sassy? that cat was really sassy with me when i found it in the garage! that’s why i thought it was you!” 

“what is that supposed to mean?” you say bewilderedly. 

before max can answer, the cat yawns loudly in your lap and nuzzles close to you.

“you know,” you remark, changing the subject,  “i’m honestly really glad you found this little kitty.” you lean over and give max a peck on the lips, tasting a hint of red bull. 

an idea hits you. “hey, why don’t we name him redbull?”

taglist: @ilivbullyingjeongin @ale-522 @formula1-motogpfan @aceyalonso @my0hmary @mbappebby @madkohi @ralshatos

[pasta-in-the-pudding]

This just popped up in my mind and I just wnated you to picture this

So imagine a teen kid coming to the slendermanor and obviously they're a teen so everyone expects them to be loud and trouble in general because teens are teens at the end of the day. Just to find out that the teen is actually very mature because they were forced into a situation where they had to be mature at a young age and they're just quiet(but also have mad good murder tactics). Like i just imagine jeff trying to scare the child for shits and giggles and they just stare at him like 🙂

Summary: Quiet teen reader gets into shenanigans in the manor

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

A/n: The battle between Jeff and children is an age old war that I don't see ending anytime soon. ALSO SIDE NOTE, I'm probably gonna be changing up my format for writing majorly soon because im tired of looking at it lolz

Credits: Any Creepypasta characters used- Creepypasta, Divider- saradika-graphics, Picture- Pinterest

Creeps x mature!teen!reader

Generally when kids are brought into the manor, everyone's vibe is "Aw man that's really sad :(" even if they are a teen

Of course, once they get over the sadness, the anxiety starts peeking through

Like not even just teens, all kids are rowdy and annoying so no one really wants to deal with that

So when you get there and you're chill they're like "oh thank god"

No one likes rowdy kids

However, even that can have its hinderances

Like, it's definetly nothing as bad as you being crazy around the manor, but more so just concerning habits

For example, Brian can never do his job as a caretaker, because he'll be coming down the stairs only to see that all of his assigned kids are already out of bed

And when he finally finds them, they are watching T.V

He will ask "Are you guys ready for breakfast?" and they will reply "No thanks, y/n fed us!"

Or E.J, who as we know can't stand dirty things or unhygienic things, will be so confused when that pile of trash he commented on is suddenly gone only a few minutes later

Or his fridge will magically be cleaned out right when he was about to go and do it

Toby will be wondering where on earth his favorite hoodie and hatches went, only to find you out back sharpening and cleaning them, and his hoodie in the washer

Everyone is grateful for your help and all, but it's a little strange?

Like why do you feel the need to do these things? Do you just like helping out or do you feel you need to?

Then there's Ben and Jeff

No fucks given

So what if you're like 13? Jeff was being lit on fire at that age, grow tf up 🙄

Anyways, they both get a kick out of scaring kids

Jeff more than Ben, but it's a fun little friendship activity they do together <333

So when you are exploring the manor one day, suddenly Jeff bumps into you, being waaay nicer than usual

"Hey, y/n! I was just looking for you!"

"Oh, Hello Jeff. Did you need something?"

He'll grin real big and hold your shoulders "Yeah, I just need to test something real quick, so don't move. Just stay exactly like this, kay?"

You nod and do as told, but Jeff doesn't move either, he just stands still, still holding onto your shoulders and staring into your eyes

You then feel a chill go up your spine, and all of a sudden a horrifying warped face that looks as if it was straight out of an analog horror jumps right in front of you

You do jump a little, but other than that, there's no reaction

Jeff immediately drops the act and lets go of you "Ugh, really? Whatever loser, I'll go find someone else to scare"

And with that, he stomps off, but Ben stays for a little bit, his face still contorted into that scary one

He wiggles his fingers and makes an "Oooooo" sound before also walking off behind Jeff

They lose interest in you very quickly after realizing you won't give them a satisfactory reaction

[ghostlynightpanda]

Can I please request a reader with Hoshina from Kaiju No.8 and the reader gets injured when on a mission? And Hoshina freaks out and gets scared and confesses?

Thank you for writing, I hope you have a great day! <3

The Blade That Protects You

English is not my first language, so if you find mistakes, feel free to contact me!

Synopsis: Hoshina never lets himself think about love—it was always duty first. But when he sees you injured in battle, he realizes that, for the first time, someone is more important than his mission.  

Warnings/content: Hoshina Soshiro x fem!reader, 3.707 words

Hoshina Soshiro was a man defined by his duty. The Vice-Commander of the Defense Force, he was a towering figure, known for his sharp instincts and even sharper blade. His calm demeanor and precise movements in battle had earned him the respect of his comrades, and his unwavering commitment to protecting humanity was beyond question. He was no stranger to loss, and he'd learned long ago that emotions had no place on the battlefield.

And yet, no matter how much he told himself it was all just part of the job, there was one person who seemed to find a way into the cracks of his armor.

You.

From the first time you'd been assigned to his team, there was something about your presence that unsettled him. You were strong, capable, and had a way of understanding him without words—something he'd never known he needed. But it also made things harder. When you smiled at him after a successful mission, or when your eyes met his across a crowded room, he couldn't ignore the strange tug in his chest. But Hoshina was determined to keep his focus, even if it meant keeping his distance.

Love had no place in the world they lived in. The Kaijus attacked without warning, destroying cities and taking lives. There was no room for feelings in a war that demanded everything, not even for someone as important to him as you.

But he couldn't deny it anymore.

As you trained side by side, fought together in every battle, the quiet affection he felt for you grew stronger. And every time he saw you walk away unscathed, part of him relaxed—just a little. He wouldn't admit it to himself, but the thought of losing you... it terrified him. He couldn't protect everyone, but you—he couldn't lose you.

Still, he kept his distance, unwilling to allow any weakness to compromise his focus. Until that day.

The mission was clear: a Kaiju had been sighted near a small village, and the Defense Force needed to neutralize it before it could cause any further destruction. As always, Hoshina was calm, calculated, and focused, his mind running through the plans for the attack. His team was ready, including you, his most trusted and capable comrade. You'd been by his side through countless missions, and today was no different. The two of you worked in perfect sync, your movements sharp, your timing flawless.

The streets of the village were eerily quiet as the two of you led the charge. Hoshina's blades gleamed in the daylight, and you were right beside him, every step in sync as you closed in on the Kaiju's location. The air was thick with anticipation.

As they approached the Kaiju's known position, the sense of calm that usually filled Hoshina's chest began to flicker. There was something… off about this mission. It wasn't just the nagging sense of danger that came with every battle—it was something else, something he couldn't quite place. Still, he didn't let it show. He couldn't afford to.

The ground suddenly shuddered, followed by the deafening roar of the Kaiju as it erupted from behind a building. It was bigger than expected—a towering, monstrous creature that crushed the earth beneath its weight. The villagers screamed and scattered, but Hoshina and his team immediately jumped into action.

The fight was intense. The Kaiju was fast, its massive limbs swinging with terrifying force. But Hoshina's training had prepared him for this. He fought with precision, cutting down the beast's appendages with practiced ease. Yet, in the chaos, something went wrong.

A second Kaiju appeared—this one much smaller, but just as deadly. It ambushed the group from the opposite direction, catching everyone off guard.

Hoshina's heart skipped a beat as he heard a shout—a familiar voice.

You.

He whipped his head around, eyes wide with realization as he saw you standing in front of a group of civilians, your back turned to the second Kaiju. You were trying to shield them, but you hadn't noticed the threat behind you until it was too late. The Kaiju lunged, its massive claws outstretched, ready to strike.

"No!" Hoshina shouted, but it was too late. In one swift motion, you threw yourself between the Kaiju and the civilians, taking the hit.

His heart stopped.

Time seemed to slow as he watched you stagger back, blood spilling from your side. His breath caught in his throat, a cold panic gripping him. You fell to your knees, your vision blurred from the pain, but your hands still gripped your weapon, desperate to protect those who couldn't protect themselves.

And just like that, everything else—the Kaiju, the battle, the mission—faded away. Hoshina didn't think. His instincts took over, and he was charging forward, faster than he'd ever moved before, his blade cutting through anything in his path.

The world blurred as he reached you. In the blink of an eye, the second Kaiju fell to the ground in a heap, its body torn apart by Hoshina's precise strikes. But none of that mattered anymore. His focus was solely on you.

He reached your side, breathless, and dropped to his knees beside you. His hands pressed against the wound in your side, trying desperately to stop the blood from spilling out.

"Stay with me," he said, his voice more frantic than he ever let on. "Don't you dare close your eyes. Not now. Not like this."

Your breathing was shallow, each inhale ragged as you forced a weak smile, trying to reassure him, but the blood loss was too much. You reached for his hand, your fingers trembling.

"I'm fine… I'll be okay," you whispered, but he could see the pain in your eyes. Your words were a lie, and you both knew it.

Hoshina's heart thudded painfully in his chest as he tightened his grip on your hand. He wanted to shout, to scream at you for being so reckless, but instead, his voice broke with something more raw, more desperate.

"Why did you—?!" he started, his tone harsh, but the words failed him. All that came out was a ragged breath. He didn't know what to say, how to express the panic and the fear clawing at his chest.

You tried to laugh, but it turned into a cough, blood staining your lips. "I couldn't just let them die…" you trailed off, but your voice was soft, distant.

His eyes were wide as he desperately looked around, knowing that the medics couldn't get here fast enough. This wasn't how it was supposed to end. He wasn't supposed to feel like this—so completely helpless. The world around him suddenly felt like a blur, the battle raging on as if it didn't matter.

Everything in him screamed to protect you, to keep you safe, but he had failed. He had failed to protect you.

He didn't know when it had happened. He didn't know when he had started caring about you this much—but now, as he held you in his arms, his mind raced with one undeniable truth:

He couldn't lose you.

The world around Hoshina felt like it was collapsing. His focus had narrowed down to just one thing: you. Nothing else mattered—not the Kaiju, not the blood-soaked battlefield, not the frantic orders being barked over his communicator. It was just you, lying in his arms, barely clinging to consciousness as your breathing grew shallower by the second.

"Stay with me," he repeated, his voice low, almost desperate. His hand pressed harder against your side, trying in vain to slow the bleeding, but it was no use. The blood kept flowing. You could feel it too—your body growing weaker with every heartbeat.

Your hand trembled in his, and you gave him a faint, almost apologetic smile. "I'll be okay… It's not that bad…"

But you both knew that wasn't true. His eyes searched your face, looking for any sign that you were truly alright, but all he saw was the faint trace of pain in your expression and the weariness creeping in around your eyes.

"No," Hoshina said hoarsely, his voice rough with emotion. His throat constricted as he fought back the panic. "This isn't... You're not okay. You're not supposed to be like this. Not... not like this." His voice cracked at the end, a stark break in the calm façade he worked so hard to maintain.

You tried to sit up, but Hoshina's hand on your chest stopped you, firm but gentle. "Don't. You need to stay still." His tone was more commanding than ever, but his eyes, normally steely and stoic, were full of vulnerability. It was a side of him you rarely saw, and it made your chest tighten.

"You're scaring me," he added, voice barely above a whisper. His eyes were wide with something unrecognizable—fear. Pure, unfiltered fear. "I—" He paused, as if the words were caught in his throat, struggling to break free. "I can't lose you."

You blinked at him, unsure if you'd heard him correctly. His usual confident, slightly teasing demeanor had completely fallen away, leaving only raw emotion in its place. He looked down at you with eyes that were no longer the calculated, controlled gaze of a warrior, but the gaze of a man who had lost himself in a moment of sheer terror.

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. It was as if his admission had taken all the words away from you.

But it was all so clear now. That strange, tight knot in your chest whenever he was near—the way your heart raced a little faster than it should when his eyes lingered just a little too long. You'd seen the way he kept his distance, the way he hid his feelings behind a wall of duty. You'd always assumed it was just the way he was, just part of the persona he'd built. But now, you could see the truth in his eyes.

You tried to lift a hand, weakly cupping his face, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. "Hoshina…" you whispered, your voice raspy. "You're… you're not going to lose me."

He let out a shuddering breath at your touch, his entire body tense with fear. "I—" His voice caught in his throat, and he closed his eyes, trying to steady himself. "I've seen too many people die," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "I couldn't—" His words faltered, a tear slipping past his stoic defenses, but he quickly wiped it away, cursing under his breath.

You reached up with your other hand, brushing your thumb against his cheek. "You don't have to face this alone, Hoshina."

He looked at you then—really looked at you—and for a moment, it seemed like the entire world had slowed. He felt something shift inside him, something he couldn't explain. His protective instinct had always been there, but this—this was something different. Something more powerful, something that gripped him in a way he couldn't control.

In that moment, Hoshina realized he had been fooling himself all along. It wasn't just about duty. It wasn't just about protecting the people he cared about or fighting against the Kaiju. He had been terrified of letting anyone close, terrified of loving someone because it meant he could lose them. But now, holding you in his arms, knowing how much he needed you, he understood.

He needed you, more than he ever wanted to admit.

The medics arrived just in time, and Hoshina reluctantly allowed them to take over. As they moved you onto a stretcher, he stood frozen, watching with his arms still outstretched toward you, as if he could somehow keep you from slipping away.

But you looked at him, your eyes meeting his once more, a faint, comforting smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "I'm going to be okay, Hoshina," you whispered, and even though you were still pale, still weak, you managed to say it with all the conviction you could muster. "I promise."

He didn't reply, but his heart, which had been clenched tightly in fear just moments ago, slowly began to ease.

The battle had ended, but the war within Hoshina was far from over.

The medics had worked quickly, stabilizing you before rushing you to the base's infirmary. Hoshina had wanted to go with you, but he'd been stopped at the door—his commanding officer Mina Ashiro had insisted that he take a moment to recover, to tend to his own wounds, but he hadn't heard a word she'd said. All he could think about was you. Was it enough? Had they saved you?

He paced back and forth outside the infirmary, his usual calm demeanor gone. His hands were trembling, not from fatigue, but from the overwhelming weight of what had just happened. What if you hadn't made it? The thought was enough to send a cold shiver down his spine.

Minutes felt like hours.

When the door finally opened, his breath caught in his throat. You stood there, looking pale but alive. Your side was wrapped in bandages, but your eyes—your eyes were still sharp, still focused, and that alone was enough to ease the storm brewing in his chest.

You met his gaze, your lips curving into a tired smile. "Told you I'd be okay," you said, your voice still a little hoarse but carrying a lightness that Hoshina couldn't ignore.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of the day hung between you like a fragile thread, but Hoshina couldn't hold it in any longer. His heart still hammered in his chest, his chest tight with the lingering fear of losing you.

He stepped toward you, the words slipping out before he could stop them. "Don't ever do that again," he said, his voice low but full of quiet intensity. His hand reached for yours, fingers brushing against yours with a gentleness that was rare for him. "Don't you ever—" he stopped himself, taking a shaky breath. "You can't just throw your life away like that."

His words were laced with a desperation that you hadn't seen before. It was as if he was speaking from a place deep inside himself that he had never allowed to show—his fears, his worries, his need to protect you.

You took a small step forward, closing the distance between you. "I don't think I'm the one who's been reckless, Hoshina," you said softly. Your gaze softened as you reached up, touching his face gently with your hand. "You've been holding yourself back for too long."

Hoshina flinched at your touch, his eyes flicking down to where your hand rested against his cheek. The warmth of your touch made his pulse race, but there was something else too—something he hadn't expected. It was the sense of comfort, of belonging, and it was something that he had tried to push away for so long.

"I don't want to lose you," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, the words almost as if he was afraid of speaking them out loud. "I can't… I can't keep pretending that I don't care. You—" he broke off, exhaling slowly as if the admission had drained him completely.

For a brief moment, there was silence. You stared at him, eyes soft and understanding. Then you smiled, that familiar warmth reaching your eyes. "You don't have to pretend anymore, Hoshina."

He swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving yours. His heart beat loudly in his chest, and the weight of his own emotions felt like it was about to crush him. But in that moment, he didn't care. He didn't care about the war, the missions, or the responsibilities that had always kept him distant from everyone else.

All he cared about was you.

You could see the uncertainty in his eyes, the lingering doubt that maybe this was all too much, too fast. You stepped closer, gently cupping his face in your hands, guiding him to look at you. "It's okay. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

Hoshina felt his chest tighten as the rush of relief washed over him. He couldn't help but lean into your touch, his hand slowly coming up to rest over yours, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand.

"You're not going to leave me," he repeated softly, almost as if testing the words, tasting the promise they carried.

You shook your head gently, your voice soft but certain. "I'm not going anywhere."

For the first time in a long while, Hoshina allowed himself to truly relax. It wasn't all fixed. There were still battles ahead, still scars to heal, but for now, he allowed himself to believe in the quiet comfort of your words.

He wasn't alone anymore. And maybe that was enough—for now.

The tension between you two slowly ebbed, the space between you shrinking as you stood there in the infirmary. The faint hum of the lights and the distant sounds of the base were the only noise, but it felt like the world had quieted around you both. In the midst of everything—the war, the losses, the dangers—the two of you had found a small, fragile moment of peace.

Hoshina couldn't stop looking at you. His eyes traced the curve of your face, the way your hair fell around your shoulders, the way your lips curved into a smile despite the pain you'd just been through. You were still here, standing in front of him, and that was more than he could've asked for.

His heart, still racing from the events of the day, slowly began to settle as he absorbed the truth that you were alive, that he hadn't lost you, but there was still something weighing on him. Something that had been gnawing at him ever since that battle. Something he couldn't run from any longer.

The air between you felt thick now, charged with the unsaid words that had been building for so long. His fingers twitched at his sides, longing to reach for you again, but there was something more pressing—something inside him that was finally pushing him to speak.

He let out a shaky breath, his heart pounding again, louder this time. His gaze dropped for a moment as his hand rubbed the back of his neck, the action betraying his nervousness. You noticed, and it made you smile a little. It was rare for Hoshina to show this kind of vulnerability. For all his strength, for all his calm in the face of danger, this was different. This was him being human.

"I… I've never been good with words," Hoshina started, his voice rough. He cleared his throat and looked back up at you, locking his gaze with yours. "I've spent so long pushing people away, pretending I didn't care, thinking it would be easier that way." His eyes softened, a vulnerability in them that only you could see. "But I can't keep doing that. Not with you."

You tilted your head slightly, waiting for him to continue.

"You're important to me," he said, his words coming out slow and deliberate, like he was forcing himself to accept them. "More than I ever realized. When I saw you… when I thought I'd lost you…" He trailed off, his breath catching. He stared at you, the depth of his feelings laid bare in the silence between you two. "I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I—I don't want to lose you."

Your heart swelled, hearing the rawness in his voice. This was Hoshina, the man who had always been so composed, so focused, but here he was, completely open, completely unguarded. And it was all for you.

You stepped closer to him, your voice soft and tender. "Hoshina..."

He closed his eyes for a moment, his hands clenched at his sides as if fighting the urge to reach out for you. The words were there, burning at the back of his throat, but it felt so overwhelming. Could he really say it out loud? Could he put those feelings into words?

When he opened his eyes again, they were softer, more vulnerable than you'd ever seen. He took a step closer to you, and for the first time, the distance between you wasn't one of duty or fear—it was one of connection. He took a deep breath, his voice steady but full of emotion.

"I love you."

The words hung in the air, raw and unpolished but sincere. There was no hesitation this time, no wall he had to break through. He didn't need to hide anymore. He had said it. And for the first time, Hoshina felt light. The weight of the years spent running from his feelings lifted, and he stood there, waiting for your response with nothing but sincerity in his eyes.

You stood there in shock for just a second, the depth of his words sinking in. And then you smiled. It wasn't a quiet smile or a gentle one—it was something more profound, something that filled the space between you two, something that told him everything he needed to know.

"I love you too," you whispered, and it was as if the world had suddenly snapped back into focus.

Hoshina let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The tension in his body finally dissolved as his hand reached out to take yours, his fingers intertwining with yours. For once, there was no doubt, no fear, just you and him—no more walls, no more barriers.

"I won't let you go," he said quietly, his thumb gently brushing against the back of your hand. "I'll protect you. No matter what."

You nodded, squeezing his hand in return. "I'll be right here," you replied softly. "With you. Always."

The confession wasn't just a declaration of love—it was a promise. A promise that no matter the battles, no matter the odds, you would face them together.

And for the first time in a long time, Hoshina believed in something beyond the fight. He believed in you. He believed in this.

Masterlist

[dmitriene]

cw: dark content, dubious consent, spanking, humiliation, thigh riding.

you were a proper brat, the one that town sheriff jonathan price couldn't stand at all, every outing you made to the town was leaving him with bulging veins all over his neck and forehead, jaw grinding harshly as his calloused hand stroked his mutton chops.

price just hadn't a single nerve for your antics, wandering around the town in the tight little shirts of your daddy that you sewed to fit your body, the slinkiest denim shorts that was possibly existing were hugging your rounded ass cheeks, soft flesh barely peaking beneath when you were bending against the shop's wooden counters.

you were john's menace, stealing for your own fun some fresh juicy fruits from some poor lad's shop, never paying and always giggling, charming his brains out of his head so he wouldn't notice your arm full of sweetest peaches.

wandering around john's office, twirling your ass all around and chatting with muppets that were sitting in jail cells, the same place you should be sitting at least couple of hours as well, but price doesn't have a strength to run after you, and his boys were failing on catching you as well.

you outrunned every one of them, from charmingly annoying scott, to the politely sunny man that was called kyle, and even the behemoth of a man that everyone was naming as a ghost, mostly because he gave up the first time you shoved your tongue at him and sprinted away by jumping through the gates.

your biggest fault was stealing something from sheriff himself, wandering to price's office while he was out for some deal as you wiggled yourself through the open window, just «a silly joke» on him for not letting you having your fun and reporting each movement you did to your daddy, but oh, you shouldn't have touched his things at all.

shouldn't turn his neatly organized office upside down, climb through his shelves and touch folders with important documents, as well as shouldn't open the jail cells and let out those who were sitting there for malicious mischief and other, similar to this one, things.

it really wasn't worth it to end up bent over a hard, muscular lap, with your tight little shorts dangling at your feet and cotton panties crumpled just enough to expose your rounded, soft rear to the silent room, where the only sound that resonates off the brick walls is loud, raw spanking slaps.

it's the first time in a long when john was that much furious, making his face go deep shade of red out of anger, fists tight and whitening at his sides when he opened the door to his office, catching you off guard in the middle of your antics, azure eyes darkening almost immediately as his fingers twitch and grasp at your hair, rippling out a loud, strained squeak off of your pretty lips.

you clearly didn't expect to see him, that john could tell, as well as end up half naked before his intense, burning gaze, a complete mess with your hands literally tied, now you couldn't run away from him, not when he finally caught you up.

maybe he enjoyed it too much, the thrill of having something that was constantly running from him made warmth bubble in his bulky body, like a game of cat and mouse, but finally you got exactly what you deserved, and john intended to feed it to you till the last spoon.

— “cocky, impudent little brat„ he all but barks and growls, making you shook not only from the stinging pain on your bulging ass cheeks, but also because of slightest fear that grip your body in its clutches, holding you unmovingly on john's thick thighs as you let out whimpers and tiny, ringing mewls.

tiny rope bites at your sore wrists, calloused palm slaps against your completely raw, reddened flesh with licking pain, your limbs feel absolutely putty, useless in your current state, with fat salty tears rolling against your fluttering eyelashes and down the flushed cheeks.

he smells of musk and gunpowder, sweat, scent with which he came back at least hour ago, and you knew that you're in for trouble, because he reeled of irritation.

all this situation was supposed to scare you away, make you beg for forgiveness, but you welcome each and every harsh slap with pooling wetness in the gusset of your cotton panties, the gentle lips of your pretty pussy visible just enough for john's gaze to catch on, and he straight on slows down.

the only thing that you register in your buzzing brain is harsh puffs that comes off his mouth, before dry ungloved fingers slide up against your folds, gathering the sticky, pooling mess, and you jolt, sobbing out a high gasp, which makes price huff out bewilderedly — “fuckin' hell, you're getting off to this, sweetheart? enjoying the humiliation?„

that makes your blood run incredibly hot, cheeks and ears burning up harder than the sensitive flesh of your perched ass, and you wiggle intuitively, pussy throbbing on itself and making you whimper, sincerely plaintively, cotton fabric sticking to your slicky folds, as you gather the courage to wobble out the small — “n-no„

but your body doesn't agree, you're aching, every limb feels as if it's itching and pulsing, you don't see how price bores his cerulean eyes into the slick gathered on his thick fingers, his own body rolling with waves of heat, clothes feels suddenly too tight for his own good, before he yanks your tied hands.

sudden movement makes you choke a squeak, rope still biting into the thin flesh of your wrists as he moves you to straddle his thighs, sitting securely, making your denim shorts slip off your legs completely and to the floor, as air in his messy office bites your sensitive ass cheeks, before there's another delivered, stinging slap.

you cry out, body jolting and pressing against his as you fall face first into his shoulder, inadvertently inhaling his cologne and hints of leather, his rough fingers knead your ass, calloused thumb rubbing strangely soothing circles that make your plush thighs squeeze together around his, desperate need for some kind of relief wells up hot and bothering, in your tummy and pulsing, currently neglected cunny.

price drinks up your every reaction like the most delicious whiskey, the labored breaths and the feel of how your pussy throbs, he can feel it all, together with hardening sensation in his boxers that makes his pants feel too tight beneath you, but it all will end up more than soon, cause his free hand moves to grip the back of your neck.

he's tugging, making your spine arch as your mound rubs against his leg just the right way, and he growls, head tilting to whisper out in your ear, his facial hair rubbing your skin harshly — “let's see how brave you are for real, darling? get off what's bothering you, and maybe.. maybe i'll consider to not telling your daddy what happened here today„

that makes you mewl so embarrassedly, nod your head silently into his muscular shoulder as your rounded hips roll cautiously, sudden pleasure sparks all through your shaking body as you still hide your face from him, but it doesn't matter, cause you're already signed the deal with sheriff jonathan price.

and no one in this town, if it's not the future dead man walking, will risk betraying the deal with him.

so you roll your hips rhythmically, letting your sopping pussy glide smoothly against his clothed thigh as your ass perches up, with his thick hand still caressing and kneading shamelessly, your strained, panting voice huffs out ashamed and delirious — “y-yes, sir„ which pulls a wide grin to his lips and a dark glint to his vivid eyes.

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3.

[karlachismylife]

Saw this and immediately thought of you! I hope your hiatus goes well!

Thank you so much, love! This cuteness was helping me keep it together during my hiatus and as you can see I survived, all thanks to you! Honestly the "thought of you" part just makes me tear up. Being the Hyena CEO of COD fandom is one of my biggest accomplishments (and also the most pleasant one cuz I get cute hyenas in my askbox).

So now that I'm out of my hiatus, let me tell you that these two? SoapGaz all the way.

CW: basically a short spinoff of the Queen of the Clan, can be seen as both canon and non-canon to the main story, so fem!chubby!reader and this is already established poly 141 x reader (ooh spoilers), a little bit of animal (well, shapeshifter) genitalia touching (non-sexual no matter how hard Soap- okay I'm out)

It's already at dusk that you're suddenly tasked with a simple thing everyone just kinda forgot about: there are new camera traps that need to be installed in the further part of the sanctuary, in the middle of the hyena territory, and since your reputation of a hyena whisperer has been firmly established, no one even thinks of other candidates for the late job.

You'd be quite grumpy about it if you didn't know you'll have the sweetest company to keep you safe and entertained.

Once you load the equipment into your backpack and receive written instructions - at least they didn't make you remember all the complicated measurements you'll have to make before setting up the traps - you roll your scooter out onto the dirt road and set off into the quickly darkening night. Fresh wind smells a little bit like sun-warmed dust and grass as it hits your face on the moderate speed, crickets and night birds weaving their song of nature cooling off after sunset, sounds loud enough to fill your head through the revving of weak engine and air swishing in your ears.

Not wearing a helmet is one of the least reckless things you've been up to just last month, and you can't lie, you feel a little bit power-drunk and allmighty after what you've gone through. Certain fellas do nothing to put you back on earth, shamelessly encouraging your power trip.

After all, the more confident the queen, the stronger the clan.

It's as if the wind picked up your thoughts, filled with the same four someones as always, and carried it over into the breathing with full chest savannah - because you're not even halfway to your end point and there's already loud whooping, two familiar voices, cutting through the air closer and closer to the road. Luckily for all of you, they make sure to get even louder and run a few dozens meters through the tall grass framing the curb, before two large silouettes jump out on the road to escort you in leisurely pace.

There's something so satisfying in the realization that you actually managed to indentify them just by their voices - Gaz's melodic, always slightly purring whooping somehow still distinct even when there are Soap's excited, hasty whoops, almost tripping over themselves and getting grabled with the inexplainable accent he carries into his hyena form too. Their big forms traverse the road effortlessly, even Soap's bulky body taking on that predatory elegance to match Gaz in his dark, determined trotting - they make some loops around you and your scooter, tails raised in excitement, and and shut up only after you turn the engine off at your stop, propping the machine on its stand.

Soap nearly jumps you, balancing poorly on one hind leg and trying to paw at you with both front ones, screeching and whining with his widest smile and tongue lolling out. You chuckle and boop his wide nose, ready to bend down for some kisses, but Gaz, ever the polite one, nudges your hip with his dark muzzle and raises his leg too.

Right. They really wanted you to get in onto the whole greeting ritual - sitting you down for a gentle talk and reassuring it that it's not weird, if it's them. They're not animals, they're just... animal-shaped. Your arguement about palming crotches as a greeting being weird with humans to was kinda just thrown away. After all, they're your clan, they're yours, why would anything be weird between you?

So you oblige, crouching with a sigh and running some quick bellyrubs down their patiently waiting bodies, until you reach two proudly erect hyena members. It's just a ritual, it'll help them with watever scent-hierarchy-service thing they've got going on, you have to remind yourself, as you briefly skim over their genitals and pull your hands away, wiping them off on the boys' fur and slapping Soap's fluffy butt for trying to grind into your palm.

"You try that again and I'm never touching you again, Stinky, you hear me?" You even make a point out of returning the old nickname, and watch with satisfaction as Soap's fluffy ears lower miserably and he dips down to the ground, the embodiment of guilt.

Not for long, though - after he gets a kiss on the nose from you, Gaz jumps Soap and bites his scruff, starting a scuffle. Their commanding officers seem to be busy, so Sergeants have a lot of energy to spare - you know that better than anyone.

Yesterday bitemarks on your thighs still sting as you unload your backpack and pull all the equipment out. Leaning your butt against the scooter, you put on the little headlamp and start reading through your instructions, laughing and fighting off both Soap and Gaz that stopped playfighting just to rummage and sniff through your things.

"Shush! Mum's reading, it's important," you throw at them, earning two sets of outraged huffs - no need to understand hyena language to hear the "you're not our mum" hidden between grumpy sneezes. It works, though, both hyenas plop their asses next to you, Gaz leaning against your hip to get some chin scratches and Soap playing with the strap of your backpack, throwing it around, tugging and chewing on the buckle in the middle. "Okay, it shouldn't be long. Hey, can you help me?"

They both jump up immediately, Soap puffing his chest out and fluffing up his mane just to show how helpful he is, Gaz just standing patiently, only reaching his neck to try and sneak a peek into the paper you're holding.

"I'll be doing some measurements, and you guys please dig a little holes where I say, okay? Not deep, just... well, to fit that thing, see?" You nod at one of the camera traps and after they both inspect it with thorough sniffs and shy nibbles and grumble in understanding, you get that laser tape measure - much easier to use alone and in the night.

Finding one of the spots you need to measure from, you crouch, set the laser and look down at the number on the screen. Too close. With a grunt, you scoot a little further and press the button again. Aha, there!

"Okay, so can you now make a hole right where the laser dot is? Guys?" Confused by the lack of movement from your usually very eager to help and serve hyenas, you look up.

Only to see them both staring at the little dot of your tape measure with tails on high alert and legs in a wide stance, prime for pouncing.

For fuck's sake, you forgot they're basically overgrown spotted cats.

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

[naomijoestar]

Can you make one where it's La Squadra reacting to the reader having a freaky looking moving doll stand?

Masterlist here <3

HELLO omg I love this so much! I seriously enjoyed writing this sooo soso much I hope you enjoy, also you might find that this post differs a bit in writing style, but I got a bit carried away I guess and made it silly, I hope you enjoy nonetheless and if you’d like anything changed you can always message me!

La squadra reacts to reader having a creepy looking doll stand

Let’s say your Stand is a small, doll-like creature with jerky, unnatural movements—like something that crawled out of a cursed VHS tape. It has glassy, unblinking eyes and twitchy little limbs, like it’s about to start speaking in tongues. Oh, and it moves on its own. Not normal Stand movements. No, it skitters

Risotto Nero

At first, he doesn’t react—Risotto is, of course, a stoic wall of a man. But the second he sees your freaky little Stand shuffle into the room like chucky, his eyes narrow

“…Explain.”

It’s not fear—oh no. It’s suspicion. He immediately assumes you’ve been hiding this thing deliberately to mess with him. And when it starts crawling UP THE WALL, he just deadpans:

“Kill it.”

Risotto will try to put it out of its misery (or his own) if it gets within five feet of him

Prosciutto

Prosciutto prides himself on being cool, collected, and mature. But the minute your Stand skitters across the table like a spider in a cheap haunted house, he lets out the most undignified noise you’ve ever heard

“Che cazzo è quello?!”

Suddenly, Mr. Cool Guy has his legs tucked up onto the chair, scowling at your Stand like it insulted his family. He points an accusatory finger at you

“Why does it move like that? Fix it.”

When you explain that it’s supposed to move like that, he just mutters, “You need better taste in Stands.”

Pesci

Poor Pesci. Your Stand exists, and that’s already too much for him to handle. He sees it for half a second, shrieks like he’s in a slasher movie, and nearly falls backwards out of his chair

“Why is it looking at me?!”

You assure him it’s harmless. The Stand then proceeds to tilt its head unnaturally far to the left, and Pesci just bolts

You now have to chase him down to tell him it won’t eat him. Pesci will not recover from this for days

Melone

Melone is fascinated. Absolutely enamored. He gets way too close, watching it twitch and crawl with genuine delight

“Incredible. Its movement is so unnatural! What do its abilities do? Does it make people uncomfortable on purpose? That’s brilliant.”

He will follow you around for the rest of the day asking a million questions, mostly things like, “Does it talk? Can I touch it? What happens if I poke it in the eye?”

Please do not let Melone near it. He will absolutely try to run experiments

Ghiaccio

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!”

Ghiaccio’s reaction is instantaneous and LOUD. He jumps out of his seat and starts pacing around the room, ranting at 200 miles an hour

“It’s crawling on the goddamn ceiling! WHY IS IT CRAWLING ON THE CEILING?!”

You try to explain, but Ghiaccio is too busy actively losing his mind. He points aggressively at your Stand

“I don’t care if it’s yours—it’s freaky as hell, and if it comes near me, I’m icing it.”

(He spends the next hour side-eyeing it and muttering under his breath.)

Formaggio

Formaggio is laughing so hard he’s crying. He LOVES your creepy little Stand

“This is the best thing I’ve seen all week. Look at this guy!”

He starts trying to play with it like it’s a toy, sticking his finger out to see what it’ll do. When it grabs onto him (with its weird little twitchy doll hand), he screams

But then he laughs even harder. “Oh my god, it’s even freakier up close. I love this little guy.”

Formaggio now calls it “the homie” and tells everyone it’s his new best friend

Illuso

Illuso’s all smug and dismissive about it at first

“Tch. It’s just a Stand. Nothing impressive.”

And then it turns its glassy head to look directly at him

Illuso freezes. For the first time in his life, he doesn’t have something snarky to say. He just stares at your Stand, and your Stand stares back

“Stop looking at me.”

It doesn’t stop

“STOP LOOKING AT ME.”

Illuso will insist he’s not freaked out, but he is visibly uncomfortable. He avoids eye contact with your Stand for the rest of eternity

Sorbet and Gelato

(This is the first time I write for them so I’m sorry if it’s not accurate)

Sorbet and Gelato are thrilled. They think your Stand is the funniest, most unsettling thing they’ve ever seen, and they are here for it

Gelato keeps trying to make it dance by waving his hands in front of it. Sorbet bets him 50 bucks that he can’t make it do the worm

They’re both crying-laughing when it skitters sideways like a crab

“This thing’s a menace. I love it.”

I hope you enjoyed this cause I definitely enjoyed writing it!

If you enjoyed this make sure to check out my other posts, and if you’d like anything specific written for a jjba character/squad you can request it if my requests are open!

[mambodork]

I absolutely love all your aus!! Am going to ask a few questions if that’s alright… (sorry if they’ve already been answered)

Are there other characters in the isekai world that turn up during the story? Does Grian know about them and when they appear, or will they be new to him?

If Boatem ever figured out he was ‘one of the creators’ and using his knowledge of the plot to help them, how would they react?

For the divorce scarian au, what does big man Jim think about all the tension going on between Grian and Scar? …does he ship them

Do the boatem supervillains know each others identities? Do they actually even have civilian identities?

Does ugly baby Grian know how to climb stuff? Because I can imagine him being a menace by trying to get up high in order to jump off it (and soar like a bird) and then baby Scar holding out his arms ready to catch him and getting completely flattened

(That’s all for now, will come back later if I have more questions, sorry to bother if they’ve already been answered, so have a cookie for your troubles 🍪)

-✨anon✨

HURRAY !! tysm for the many questions ... i will try my best to answer them <3

1. Everyone in life series is a character !! Im also contemplating putting some people from HC as well, but the number of characters overwhelm me, so most of them don't really have much detailed lore compared to Boatem. Grian knows about every single one of them.

2. This one still subject to change because their initial first reaction don't really matter much on the overall lore of the story, but I like to think they experience the news very differently. I'm very VERY keen on Scar to be immediately accepting without question, right off the bat. I have a very clear line for him in my head that I really wanna draw for after he found out about Grian being their "creator" and its something along the lines of him being glad for being made by someone so kind .... or something like that.

3. Tbh i think he is probably a little freaked out cuz it's essentially seeing ur teacher flirt w ur family member and also they are incredibly old and gross 🤢 ... but also i think he fw Scar heavy and immediately joins his every scheme to try and get Grian back. They #ChillAsHell

4. Yes, they know each other's identities and are all friends outside the mask !!! I would like to think they have normal lives outside their villain jobs, but they probably mostly use it to goof around since money is no issue for them.

5. The mere idea of seeing that creature climb things made me shiver me timbers ..... yeah ... he probably could .... im so scared of him

[twomiddlefingersforthehaters]

Kishi shows us that everyone in the Narutoverse somehow understands the feelings between Naruto and Sasuke, that the two of them are somehow connected, and that the two have some influence on each other and If something happens to one of them, the other will react in an extreme way. Kishi used his other characters to point this out and make us pay more attention to Naruto & Sasuke.

A scene where Sakura and the others are doubting of Naruto and Sasuke's feelings for each other is something Kishi can't do directly. Otherwise, it would cause a lot of trouble, and it would confirm that there really is something going on between the two. readers are already confused and complaining about it without even those scene. But at least some readers finally see the gay and understand the narrative.

1. HAKU

Sasuke exposed his weakness (Naruto) in front of a enemy. Observing every move to avoid serious injury and forced to awaken his Sharingan to protect Naruto, of course Haku was watching him and absolutely found his weakness and used it against him. Haku knows if Naruto is used the fight will be over because Sasuke would jump in front of Naruto to save him.

2. OROCHIMARU

• Orochimaru recognizes the impact Naruto has on Sasuke's says a lot! He wanted to separate them immediately....if Sasuke ran away from his goal of becoming strong and risked his life for 'Naruto'....it would have hindered his plan.

• Also, when Orochimaru deliberately emphasized, “MySasuke-kun”… With this comment, Naruto's anger finally reached its peak and got insane to the point of sprouting 4 tails.

Some Native speakers reactions to Naruto's “ Don't say Sasuke's name in front of me like he's yours”

1. “You snap(get angry) there? Well, How should I say it?...Isn't that a little off? ”

2. “It was around the Sai arc that people started calling Naruto homosexual”

3. “ I think it would be much better without this -> "In front of me" ”

4. “He had been angry for a long time, but I got the impression that he lost his temper over this comment ”

5. “This line from Naruto is incomprehensible and scary, but I don't think it would be so strange if Itachi (or even Fugaku) said something similar and got angry at Orochimaru”

6. “Regardless of whether Naruto's anger and how he expressed it were justified or not, if you consider that Naruto is gay and in love with Sasuke, then it's an understandable emotion”

7.“ Even if the subject is a love interest, I'm still saying it's a strange line.”

@reply: “I don't agree with it, but I think there are ex-boyfriends who are so possessive in real life too.”

8. “That's weird for a shounen manga protagonist”

9. “Does that mean Kishimoto-sama knowingly making Naruto sick? Or was it that he wanted to emphasize, both inside and outside the work, that Sasuke is special to Naruto and that it is difficult for others to understand or interfere in their relationship?”

The word used by the said person was 病ませていた｡ Its dictionary form is 「病む (やむ)」 which means "to suffer from some disease/ illness/sickness". 「病ま」 is the imperfect form and 「せる」 is a causative auxiliary verb. So 「病ませる」 means "to make someone sick". 「病ませた」 is its past form. 「病ませてい た」 is its past progressive form.

10. “The Nine Tails' tail is gross, the lines are terrible, he has too many tantrums, he says Sasuke too much, etc.”

11. “If he was gay, would that explain it...? Doesn't that mean he has romantic feelings for Sasuke after all?”

12. “Even though you took the trouble to change the lines between the magazine and the book, you didn't delete "in front of me," Kishimoto-sama, You're particular about that”

[when publishing a book, changes may be made to the version published in the magazine (Weekly Shōnen Jump).]

@reply: “The fact that he sometimes fix things and sometimes doesn't it shows that Kishimoto-sama is aware of his abnormality is quietly frightening”

13.“At first glance, he's a bright, friendly Jump protagonist, but as soon as Sasuke gets involved, things get weird. That's what makes him unique and interesting.”

• Sensing Naruto's chakra, Sasuke quickly ordered to lead the way. As usual Orochimaru does not failed to notice the sudden mood changes in Sasuke.

• Sasuke was watching Naruto when Obito taunting and provoking him and he was crying when Obito sucked everyones's chakra. And of course Orochimaru noticed that Sasuke seems to be in a bad mood.

3. PAKKUN

Pakkun emphasizes Sasuke's attempt to protect Naruto despite in his bad condition.

4. KABUTO

5. KAKASHI

It's conon Sasuke is Naruto's Driving force and he's the one making Naruto stronger and stronger...

This panel shows that even other people, like Kakashi, can see that Naruto is really working so hard for Sasuke. Because Naruto, personally, believes in Sasuke and wants to save him.

6. ITACHI

When Itachi visited the village to kidnap Naruto after Hiruzen's death...Sasuke came between them. And Itachi noticed the way Naruto was so furious to draw Kyuubi chakra to protect Sasuke. Maybe that's why he came to this conclusion and asked Naruto “can you choose between Sasuke and Konoha? ”

7. SAI, PAIN & RAIKAGE

• Sai questioning “Why does that naruto still care/concerned about sasuke or why does he feel strongly about Sasuke despite he betrayed and hurted him?”

• Sasuke stated in their first fight that Naruto would never be able to understand him because he never had anyone in the first place no family no siblings, he was always alone. Now, Pain fixed that problem by nuked the village and pretty much murdered everyone. After the fight, Naruto recollects what Sasuke said in Vote 1 and what pain told him. Naruto realizes that he was wrong to think he knew what Sasuke was going through without having experienced something similar to what Sasuke did. After the death of jiraiya he understand a bit about wanting to avenge your important ones' death and how much it devour you. He now realized that it wasn't realistic that he thought he could get through to Sasuke without understanding his feelings and pain. That's why he says he understands Sasuke in this arc.

• this not considered friendship in the Shinobi world

(he's begging on his knees to spare sasuke's life but he's threatening cloud its so funny)

8. TOBIRAMA

In the Land of Waves arc, when they were only 12 years old, they could team up together without any direct communication. We know that the last time they fought together was 4 years ago, even then they could team up together without any direct communication.

9. KURAMA

• Sasuke couldn't even handle Naruto losing his arms despite he himself had lost one. How would he react when he sees Naruto dead in front of his eyes???? Those expression and his lines before proves that Sasuke may have had his mind set on killing Naruto. But the reality is that if that happens, his heart could not handle it. Kishi used Kurama to foreshadow this.

• Naruto gives kurama an extreme Glare when kurama lectures him about how he's never been able to do anything for Sasuke. And later in the war arc Naruto flashbacked about Sasuke and showed everyone that he regrets not reaching out to Sasuke back then when they were kids, even though he wanted to reach out to him.

• It's such an unnecessary scene, but Kishi brings up the kiss again lol. As usual, Naruto reacted very dramatically.

He had the same reaction when he accidentally kissed Sasuke in chapter 3, after which he quickly went to Sakura to verify his feelings and it didn't take him long to realize that he loves Sasuke. Kishi's deliberate thoughts and plans in that chapter screams “Naruto might be a Gay boy who wants to deny it really hard ”

Otherwise, Kishimoto literally didn't have to do any of this!!

10. EBISU

It's from the Pain arc, where Ebisu Sensei remembers Naruto's growth. From everyone calling him a 狐のガキ = kitsune no gaki = fox brat Or a "Kyuubi kid" to actually calling him by his real name “Naruto”.

[ガキ: in a rough way to say, which has negative nuance. This word comes from Buddhism monsters "餓鬼(がき)= gaki" born in the hell, which devour foods. There are people who call their children "gaki," but I don't think they mean it in a bad way. However, as a listener, it leaves a bad impression. The word "gaki" can also be used in a negative sense to describe a childish or immature person. ]

The memories begin with the people of Konoha hating him, and later the people of Konoha praise Naruto for stopping Gaara from attacking Konoha, and for bringing Tsunade in as the 5th Hokage.

When Jiraiya died the villagers says, “Is Naruto okay? He will not lose his heart, he will keep looking forward". Before that this panel appears when it comes to Sasuke. Even the people of Konoha felt that Naruto would be depressed if Sasuke wasn't in Konoha with Naruto.

The word used here is 落ちこんで which means to be depressed; to feel down; to feel sad; to be in low spirits.

落ちこんで is the conjunctive form of 落ち込む and the particle で is added to express the state in which the action of ``depression'' is in progress.

e. g:

- 彼は失恋して、しばらく落ちこんでい た。

- kare wa shitsuren shite , shibaraku ochikondeita .

-He was heartbroken and depressed for a while.

- 仕事のストレスで、彼は毎日落ちこんで過ごしている。 - shigoto no sutoresu de , kare wa mainichi ochikonde sugoshiteiru.

-He feels depressed every day due to the stress of work.

[sulumuns-dootah]

Hello and can i ask if its okay for a request? If its okay, can you do where the WHB Kings meet Reader (crush) who's from another universe & she's like the Pincess of Hell, she's sweet, native, optimistic, Hopeful, believes their good in everyone even the demons/sinners, but she's not pushover and would go demon when mad. (or like Charlie Morningstar from Hazbin Hotel)?

Please & Thank you in advance.

WHB kings getting a crush on Princess of Hell from different universe

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

A/N: Oh fun! I kinda HC myself in this universe as something like that so this was fun ^^

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

For Satan it starts as 'Oh she's cool, I wanna hang out with her more'

Unaware to him, it's actually a crush in development

Funnily enough, everyone besides him and you knows

Gehenna is not much of a betting country, unlike Abyssos, but everyone is betting on how long it'll take for either one of you to realise

What Satan loves about you is how you treat everyone the same, regardless of their past

       ༺☆༻

At first, Mammon is interested in knowing how the economic system works in your version of Hell so he knows what to possibly adjust

But over time finds out that he loves listening to you talk

So if you happen to always sidetrack while explaining something, he won't mind at all

At first I was gonna say that Mammon would slip some random gifts into your pockets, but then again...

He would probably just give them to you all casual as if he didn't just give you something worth more than a small island

Actually thinking about it, it'll be a weird feeling for him

You're the first thing he doesn't think he owns

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At first, Levi was annoyed

After some time passes, he gets annoyed even more

On his first meeting with you, he sees how cheery and friendly you are, which makes him feel that familialr irritation

But to his uncomfortable dismay, he finds himself missing your energy when you're not around

You kinda remind him of Orias in some way (except the attempts on his life)

There's something about the way you're able to go from tending to some child-demon's wounds to calling out someone's shitty behavior

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If you're the chaotic type, Beel would immediately click with you

But beware, because some of his shenanigans might be also aimed at you to see how far it takes until you unevitably switch into your full demon form and try to squash him with the nearest object

Bullying the people he cares about is a love language to him

Over time, Beel falls for the way you laugh and the way you smell while happy

And this time those things are something he actually remembers no matter how many times he turns into his fly swarm

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Belphie can't help but laugh when he first meets you

You're so sweet it's hard to believe you're actually related to Hell in any way shape or form

And then he sees you scolding someone for getting a jump at you around the corner

Well now you've gotten more interesting...

Maybe he'll invite you to watch some anime with him that has a lot of blood and guts

And even if it's too much for you, good for him, he can at least have a good laugh

(What you've kinda missed is that it was actually meant to be a date :D)

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I'm not sure which way to take this...

I HC Asmo to not have as much libido when it comes to the other kings, so he doesn't mess up the whole Hell-hierarchy system

So idk if I wanna say that the same would go for you or that his libido wouldn't even work on you since you're from an entirely different universe

Either way, he will try to charm you and if that fails, he'll start talking about his little halfling army like a proud dad

There is something very attractive about you to him though

As a princess you're taking care of a whole realm, so how would you look like taking care of a few cross-universe babies?

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Lucifer sees the good in your heart and appreaciates it very much

He too, can get scary while mad, but that doesn't happen often

Usually, he doesn't enjoy loud demons (with some exceptions ofc), but with you, he is okay

Something about the way you light up every room you enter makes his smile

And then there's also the way you talk to him

He can sense you geniunely care about everythign he says

[sillygoofyqueer]

four, i will give you dora's backpack if you drop the leviathyuan lore. Please. Im starving.

I do not want you to steal a child's backpack, but sure I'll feed you I guess, just to be sure you don't starve to death. OKAY SO, Leviathyuan!!! I have no idea where I got up to hmmm...OH! I got distracted by how he looks instead of his lore, right. ANYWAY! Luo Binghe sees this demon creature, and this demon creature spots him. Of course, the first thing he assumes is that he's about to be attacked when the creature jumps up and - it's hard to say if the demon is running to try and catch him off guard or if it's kind of bouncing/stumbling over to...also try and catch him off guard? To be fair, he is caught off guard and doesn't have any time to attack before this demon has launched itself at him and is!!! Biting!!..His hair. What. He's on the floor and this creature is just chewing at his hair with a thoughtful look on its face, before it spits his hair out and starts just tugging on it. He knows his hair isn't straight and elegant like everyone else's, but it's not that fascinating! He tries to speak to it but it just yabbers back at him in what can only be another language and shows off its terrifyingly sharp rows (yes rows plural!!!) so he just shuts up and lets it happen. Okay I'm bored of talking about that right now, we're going to get into the backstory lore because Shen Yuan is NOT transmigrated! He wasn't born in The Lake, but was instead born in a much more open environment, not even that far down if we're thinking about how far down the abyss is. As a little baby Leviathyuan (still huge, but just a littol baby in human form), he was lured away by his parents by a particularly interesting looking fish - not to eat it, just to watch it! When the fish goes out of water, Shen Yuan follows, switching instinctively to human form and IMMEDIATELY getting grabbed by a demon poacher. The demon poacher was hired to catch a baby leviathan demon for some random noble (Linguang-Jun :D), and now they have their stuff they're going to get out of the abyss and get their reward! Well, that was the plan before there's like a migration of huge scary monsters or something and the poacher has to take shelter. In The Cavern. With The Lake in it. While the poacher thinks it's all chill, baby Yuan senses something in The Lake and starts being like "AAAAGGGGHHH" but in baby language. The poacher is like "oh my god shut uup," while a huge fucking monster from the deep is like "C h i l d ." I'm thinking like the huge monster is a cool octopus type creature as well. I've got a note here that says I think it'd be cool if the water-based demons were much more chill than the land-based demons. Like, while land-based demons would be all "GRRR DEATH TO YOU AND YOUR FAMILY!!! I DON'T CARE IF IT WAS NECESSARY FOR YOUR SURVIVAL TO TAKE MY LAND!!", water-based demons are more in tune with nature. The sea is one of the most beautiful examples of an ecosystem ever, and I think it'd be neat to reflect that in the demons that live in there. They'd be more like "of course you can feast on my dead brother's corpse, we've got some fine algae growing in there!" Much more peaceful than land-based demons.