#and i could be doing HORRIBLE DAMAGE TO MY BODY RIGHT NOW!!!!

[lymtw]

Aftercare

Aftercare with Toji, where after all the roughness and manhandling is over with, he can't take his eyes off of you. All he cares about is making sure that you're not in excruciating pain, yet he hasn't been able to say a word for the past five minutes. You've pressed so many tender kisses to his face and expressed that you're okay enough times to him, but he can't seem to drop the smallest, lingering coil of guilt he feels at the sight of your scuffed up body. You look like you fought off a bear and ripped octopus tentacles off your skin—simultaneously, with all the scratches, bruises, and hickeys that littered you from your jaw to your ankles.

"Quit staring," you say, bringing your knees up and crossing your arms, your hands gripping your biceps.

"Nah- baby..." he finally says, softly, like he's quickly trying to justify the gaze he had set on you. "Come here."

Toji makes quick work of crushing this wave of insecurity that threatens your peace. He knows what you just endured was not the softest experience, and that you practically let him—a man capable of showing the aggression of a pack of wolves, devour you. Really, he did not hold back at all.

You slide down the bed and pull the covers over your body, laying your head on his chest with an arm thrown over his midsection. He pulls you close with an arm wrapped around your shoulder, and kisses the top of your head. "You know I love you, right, mama?"

"Mhm," you hum. Minutes ago you would have thought those words were a cruel joke being played on you with the way he gripped onto you like he wanted it to hurt.

"Wasn't trying to hurt your feelings by staring at you like that. Just did a lot of damage, this time, and it looks like it hurts... a lot."

"I'm fine," you repeat, for the nth time. You look up at him, briefly, sparing a smile before resting your cheek on his chest again. "A hot shower will melt it all away, I promise," you mumble.

He brushes over one of the many stains he left on the side of your neck. "My little trooper," he sighs, very much relaxed by your side. "You know i'd be proud even if you told me you were hurting." He knows it'll take more than a shower to get all these new semipermanent tattoos off your pretty skin, but for the sake of not making you feel small, again, he shuts up about it.

"I know," you assure. "I just don't wanna burden you. You're probably just as tired, if not more."

"What do you need?"

You lift your head again and look at him, confusion filling out your features. "You heard me, didn't you? I can take care of myself."

"I know that, and I don't doubt it for a second, but you're really gonna reject me?" He hisses, dramatically clutching his chest. "Damn, mama, just like that?"

"Well, no. Of course not-"

"Right. Of course not," he says, with that horrible tendency he has of cutting you off when the situation benefits you. "Gonna ask you one more time, and if you don't answer, i'm just gonna do what I want for you. What do you need?"

You had to think about it for a minute, about how you wanted him to help you. Independence shone through your thoughts. Everything he could help you with, you could also do alone. You didn't want to be needy.

"Five..." He's timing you, now. "Four..." The countdown has your brain scrambling to pick something. Anything, but you're blanking, losing second by second the already little time you were gifted. "Three... it shouldn't be this hard," he teases, a smirk on his face.

"I don't know, um."

"Two... you're gonna lose the option of telling me what to do, doll."

"No- I don't know."

"One." The countdown ends. "Alright," he groans, pulling you up with him as he sits up. "Let's go."

–

Sure enough, once the lukewarm water hit your skin, you gained a burst of energy. You made the washing of your body an amusing, yet tedious task for Toji. With all your little excitement fueled dances and laughter, what should have been a ten minute session turned into a twenty minute one.

"Doll, turn around. Let me get your back," Toji says, holding back a grin at the sight of you trying to soothe the burning sensation you feel in your nose after inhaling water.

You turn your back to him, before jovially turning to face him again. "Joking, joking," you say, when you catch his lidded eyes. You quickly turn your back to him, again, with giggles slipping past your lips.

He sighs, unable to hold back the gentle curl of his lips any longer. "What am I gonna do with you?" He lathers you from the nape of your neck to your lower back, with soap. The contrast of the white foam and the darkened stains on your skin, were enough to have him thinking about what ended just a little over half an hour ago. There wasn't a spot on you that didn't have some mark of his on it. Your shoulder blades and spine were mottled with stains of his lips, and your hips had opaque fingerprints on them.

You winced and took a step forward, away from Toji's touch, successfully pulling him out of his zoned out state. "You're scrubbing the scratches too hard," you say, turning to him while running your hands over the tender skin.

"Shit," he gently pulls you back and turns your back to him again, "sorry, princess." A few soothing kisses are pressed into the strikes, enough of them to make you forget that it even stung in the first place. He makes sure his mind stays out of the gutter, at least until he's done washing you, so that he doesn't hurt you again.

After showering, you stayed in bed while Toji went to the kitchen to make some tea for you. He did this for you after every night of intimacy, to expedite the betterment of your exhausted throat. He also knows of the calming properties that ease you into slumber. He wants nothing more than for you to sleep off the soreness your body retains.

"There you go, baby. I know you don't like it, but it'll make your throat feel better, so you have to drink the whole thing." He settles down next to you, on his side of the bed and watches you sip on the steaming hot drink.

The familiar scrunch of your nose appears at the taste that hits your taste buds, a sight that Toji has started looking forward to. "I hate the flavor just a little more every time I drink it. Oh well," you say, taking another sip, ignoring the scalding heat that embraces your tongue.

"I know. It sucks," he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Hopefully, next time we choose correctly and get something you'll like."

You set the mug down on the nightstand and turn to him. With warm hands, you cup his cheeks and tilt his head up slightly.

"What?" He asks, his eyes directed towards you.

Your smile evolves into a short giggle as you stare at one pinpointed spot on the side of his neck. "I got you, too. Right..." you drag a finger down his neck, gently pressing on the dark spot you left on him. "...here."

His hand tracks your touch and replaces it with his own, feeling the mark. "Damn right, you did. You got me, baby," he says through a grin. "My turn?"

You sigh, with faux irritation. "Fiiine."

"Let's see..." He cups your cheeks the way you did his. "I got this whole area here." His thumb brushes over your jawline, dragging beneath it to where the marks end. "Then there's this entire patch right here." He turns your head, exposing the reddish-purple splotches on the side of your neck to the light. His eyes trace the slope that leads to your shoulder, spotting the marks that remain visible beneath the collar of your shirt. He coordinates his touch with his sight, dragging his fingers over your delicate skin. "Right here," he says, after pulling the collar of your shirt down your shoulder, revealing more of his marks.

"Okay, okay. You win," you say fixing your shirt, covering up again.

"There's one right there," he continues, tapping the column of your neck. "Some more there," his finger glides over your left collarbone.

"Toji, I swear, if you point out one more, i'm gonna bite your finger off."

He stares at you silently, the corners of his lips twitching as you watch him, intently. After a few seconds, he slowly starts directing his finger towards a mark on your chest. Once he makes contact with your skin, he gently presses on the smear of color that marks it, still holding eye contact with you. "Here, too."

You swat his hand away from you, and huff. "Why did I even try to threaten you? You want me to bite your finger off, huh?"

"Not in the slightest. I just knew you weren't actually gonna do it, so I pushed it."

You cross your arms. "Whatever. I'm just gonna put a hoodie on so you can't look at them anymore."

"Woah, baby, put down the knife," he says, hands up in playful surrender. "No need to take drastic measures over this. Don't hide all my hard work."

"Hard work," you mutter, an incredulous scoff following.

Toji's gaze falls on your lips. "You're pouting like you wanna be kissed," he teases.

"And you're... you're being annoying," you say, covering your mouth with your hand, concealing the involuntary lift of your lips.

"Yeah, but you still want me to kiss you," he says, with a sly, knowing smirk on his face. "Look at you. Look at that blush. Even your knuckles are red, doll."

"Oh my god..." you groan with embarrassment. You use both hands to cover your entire face, now.

He chuckles, pulling you into his arms. "You're so pretty, ma. A total work of art." His hands have never gotten lost on you, but for now, in any way he holds you, he'll be able to see the trails his lips left behind.

"Stop..." you mumble, smiling softly at the sweetness poured into his words.

"You look mine, with all these marks," he says, pulling down the collar of your shirt a little, to see the blots of color that appear at the start of your spine.

"Shut up," you say, blushing furiously against his chest.

"Sounds like you still want that kiss, huh?"

"Not anymore," you say, lifting your gaze to meet his. The look in your eyes betrays every ounce of your denial. Toji can very clearly tell that you're lying.

"Those rosy cheeks are saying something else," he says, grinning. "Damn, look at those pretty lips. They're ready for me."

"If you want to kiss me, just say so," you chide, lightheartedly.

"I'm gonna kiss you so hard, doll," he says, cupping your cheeks again. "Your lips lack a little more of me."

[deadsetobsessions]

REVERSE TROPE WRITING PROMPT BY @out-of-jams

ACCIDENTALLY KIDNAPPING A MAFIA BOSS

In Tucker's defense, he thought he was doing someone a favor. A life saving favor, in fact.

"What the fuck-!” The red helmeted guy yelped as a deceptively strong Tucker yanked him onto the bike and sped away. Before Tucker could explain, the GIW agents behind them got in a lucky shot and hit the helmeted liminal with a strong blast to the head.

Clearly, his gear wasn’t equipped with anti-ecto protections, because the guy slumped over on Tucker’s arms. This was bad, because Tucker now had to maneuver about 230 pounds of Gotham muscle while speeding away from government agents. He flicked on the jammer so they couldn’t track his and red helmets’s ecto signature.

“STOP!”

“Ah, shit.” Tucker cursed as he somehow managed to gather up red-helmet’s body and stabilize the bike. “C’mon, Tuck, you can do this.”

Blasts of anti-ecto tech slammed into buildings around him. Luckily, Gotham was used to this kind of shit so people just moved out of the way before going back to their day. Tucker wove around traffic, trying to lure the agents into slamming face first into some signposts.

“Stop damaging the local infrastructure!” Tucker yelled back at them, speeding up.

“WELL REIMBURSE THE PEOPLE AND THE CITY LATER! TELL US WHERE PHANTOM IS!!”

“Over my dead body, you jerks!” Tucker took a sharp right, catching red helmet before the man could slip off. He sped up and took the ramp downwards, heart beating loudly in his ears as he strained his senses to figure out- ah, they took the ramp upwards. Good. Now, all he has to do is bring red helmet back to home base.

“Oh my god. I kidnapped him,” Tucker groaned, slapping at his face before quickly placing his hands back on the handle bar once the bike teetered over with red helmet’s weight. “I’m a criminal. Oh my god.”

Then, as he found his way back, “…Well, it’s not like I wasn’t a criminal before, with the whole resisting arrest thing.”

——

Tucker dumped the red helmet liminal onto the couch of their shared apartment and went to take a shower. When he got out ten minutes later, he found Danny and Sam staring at the helmet guy. Tucker pushed up his glasses (after letting them defog from the shower) and greeted them.

“Hey, guys! I found him while I was running away from Agent L and J.”

“You okay?” Danny asked, eyes immediately flicking over Tucker for injuries.

“Yeah, I’m good. They’re horrible shots.”

“I thought Danny was the one who brought home strays but you…?” Sam commented, arms crossed and a purple painted nail tapping at her arm. “Wait. Isn’t this… that crime lord? What was his name?”

“Red Hood?” Danny offered, turning back to look at the guy on their couch.

Tucker paled. “Oh, no.”

Guns? Check.

Red Helmet? Check.

Bat-Symbol? Check.

Shit.

They collectively stared at the guy in silence.

“…Tucker,” Sam slowly said. “Did you accidentally kidnap a crime lord?”

“Hey, I didn’t want him to get killed! He’s liminal! Even more than us, except for Danny.” Tucker grumbled. “Man, this is why I leave the hero-ing to Danny. I do one good thing and suddenly I have a crime lord on my couch.”

“My couch,” Sam corrected, as she was the one that furnished their apartment.

“What do we do now?”

“Eat dinner,” Tucker said. “I’m famished.”

Sam nodded. “Wait for him to wake up and hope he doesn’t shoot us the moment he wakes up. Then, we explain.”

Danny grabbed all the visible guns he could see. Tucker went to start dinner. Sam supervised, because her boys were idiots and now she had a crime lord in her apartment.

——

Jason groaned, head swimming in a sea of dull throbbing pain as his eyes fluttered open.

Then he remembered he was abducted, and bolted up right. He paused as a series of quick observations made its way to his consciousness.

One. He’s not tied up. Weird, because everyone knows that he’s a weapon even without his weapons.

Two. His weapons were right there, just in reach.

Three. He was surrounded by teenagers and/or young adults who were all scrolling along on their phones.

“Oh, hey, he’s awake! Hi!” The Wayne bait said, electric blue eyes fixing itself on Jason. “Were you aware you died?”

Jason went rigid, hundreds of way to-

“Danny!” A scolding tone cut of Jason’s immediate panic. Two couch pillows slammed into Danny’s face, courtesy of goth girl and nerdy but strong.

“Dude, why do you start with that? Why are you like this?” His… possible kidnapper? asked, exasperatedly flinging his hands into the air as he rolled his eyes.

Goth girl scowled. “Boys. Crime lord, couch, remember?”

“Hey, in my defense, I died too!”

And that- as Jason remained dumbfounded in this circle of tomfoolery- was what snapped Jason out of his daze.

“You what?” He rasped out.

And when he saw them open their mouths at the same time, Jason just knew his headache was going worse.

——

Tucker, effortlessly plucking the actual red hood from the streets: and I whoop-

Jason, whose type is strong, nerdy, and tall: *heart eyes* *but not really because he’s unconscious*

——

Sam: “this is my boyfriend Danny and our other boyfriend Tucker.”

Jason enters chat:

Sam: “this is my boyfriend Danny and our other boyfriend Tucker and his boyfriend, the Red Hood.”

——

[hirayalore]

“what—”

SIRIUS BLACK blinked, not processing what just happened as he found himself back at grimmauld place.

it was only mere seconds ago that he was at the department of mysteries, having a duel against bellatrix with harry battling alongside him. everything felt so exhilarating—he was having the time of his life, conjuring a bunch of offensive and defensive spells towards bellatrix’s way, releasing some of the pent up tension he had been trying to tame while cooped up and hidden inside the order’s headquarters.

then all of a sudden, in a moment of recklessness, a spell abruptly hit him hard on the chest, causing him to stumble backwards and almost trip on his feet at the impact.

almost.

because just when he thought he was going to fall in the veil behind him, he heard you scream his name in a manner he has never heard before. it was piercing, the kind to emit shivers on the spine, the kind he was certain he was going to remember for days on—and the next thing he knew, before he could understand the lay of events, he was here at his old home with you right in front of him, holding onto his arms so tightly that he could feel your nails digging in his skin.

the both of you had apparated, he finally realized. you had rushed to him before he could fall and grabbed him, teleporting the two of you to the one place you could think of that could keep you safe. 

“____,” he began as he dawned on him what prompted you to do such a thing. “i—i’m so sorry, love. i—”

“i hate you, sirius.” you practically spat on his face, venom lacing your tone as you let go of him and instead started punching him hardly on the chest. “so fucking reckless—doesn’t fucking think about anything but himself—”

he took your jabs without complaint, letting you take out your frustration even if the spell that almost knocked him over still made it hard for him to breathe.

“you could’ve—” you continued, each punch harder than the last, a stream of tears falling on your cheeks now as it continued to sink what could have happened if you weren’t fast enough— “you really do want to leave me, don’t you? want me to bloody fend for myself again, be left alone, be without you after already suffering for merlin knows how long—”

“i’m sorry,” he said, his voice coming out as a whisper in shame of his rashness earlier. “darling, i didn’t mean to be so foolish with my actions. i wasn’t thinking, really, i’m so sorry.”

you huffed out a scoff, giving him one last shove and turning away, walking towards the wall where you lean on it for support.

you were on the verge of hyperventilating, your heart was beating so fast, and little noises were coming out of your lips as the sobs couldn’t stop. the only thing keeping you standing was how you were resting on the partition as even your knees felt like giving out.

no matter how much you tried to calm yourself down, to push away the thoughts of sirius being permanently taken away from you, you couldn’t. you couldn’t erase that horrible feeling of knowing you could have lost the love of your life again tonight—with this time no longer having the opportunity to ever bring him back to you if he did.

in an instant, sirius embraced you from behind, murmuring his apologies again and again despite knowing he couldn’t fix the damage he had done easily due to his negligence.

you didn’t force him off, but you didn’t reciprocate his gestures as well, your body shaking uncontrollably because of still being stricken with the reality of almost losing him.

with utmost gentleness, he spun you around so that you were back facing him, his calloused hands tilting your chin up in order to look at your eyes that were bloodshot and wet. he kissed your cheeks, a lingering kiss that prompted you to let out a whimper, before he kissed you full on the mouth, so much tenderness and remorse being poured into the gesture.

“i’m sorry, love,” he murmured against your mouth. “it was just a lapse of judgment, okay? i’d never want to leave you again. i will never leave you, you hear me? you’re stuck with me for an eternity.”

you gazed up at him, encircling your arms around his neck and pulling him towards you for another kiss, desperate to physically feel him which he was more than willing to oblige.

“stop being so reckless, sirius,” you pleaded, your fingers tangling in his hair, your kisses persistent. “you can’t keep on doing this to me.”

“i know, i know.” he returned the same intensity that you were showing him, caught up with the rush of sudden yearning. “i’ll be better. i won’t make you worry.”

you no longer bothered replying, you just continued to kiss him, dragging him with you to the nearest room you could wander into, a silent order that if he wanted to make it up to you, he should start by making you feel every part of him until it was clear to you that he wasn’t going to be anywhere else.

gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡

[backinmyphase]

Not alone

Synopsis: After your horrible introduction to each other, Satoru and you have finally time to get to know each other on your honeymoon now. That's everything that is happening - surely right?

Or: Satoru Gojo doesn't even know how attached he will grow to his wife yet.

Pairing: Gojo x reader, 2800 words

Series Masterlist

I want to thank all of you for the support and the comments, I'm so happy other people like my writing <33 Anyway I hope you like it!

"I can't believe I really listened to you. What am I doing?"

Gojo grinned to himself and went on as if he didn't hear you.

"To the trainstation, please." He handed the cab driver the destination and sat next to you in the back instead of the front.

And suddenly his body was so close, his presence became impossible to not notice.

"I'm so happy to be able to convince you." He looked out of the window.

He sat so relaxed, legs stretched apart and his body lying comfortably in the seat. How could he be so relaxed?

"They'll freak out. Kill me. And then wipe out my clan. In that order."

Gojo laughed. "Sure they will."

"They really could." You shook your head and looked out the window on your side.

"No, they couldn't. They don't dare do anything to you." His voice was full of confidence.

'If only you knew what they dare to do.' You thought about the letters. 'If only you knew.

"Just forget about them, okay?" You felt his body turn towards you. "It's always just higher ups this, clan that. Just try to relax."

"Yeah, yeah." you whispered and look outside. You could see the pitiful look of the driver from the side mirror outside the car.

What were you thinking? This morning you somehow thought that it wouldn't be so bad to just leave. And Gojo looked at you so full of expectation that you didn't want to disappoint him.

But now?

The only thing you could see as you closed your eyes was the disapproving face of your mother. She wouldn't have done anything that would damage the clan's reputation.

And on top of that the panic began to settle.

You were on your honeymoon. Alone. With your husband. It the higher ups don't kill you, well, they will at least expect a child. Or expect you to expect a child. Doesn't matter.

You couldn't even breath near Gojo out of panic, how could you sleep with him?

He yawned loudly, breaking you away from your thoughts. His eyes half lidded open, he stretched his arms.

Maybe it wasn't just the panic.

You looked outside again to hide the on creeping redness on your face. It just wasn't fair. You weren't made for this, weren't made to be Gojo's wife. He just was so… Gojo and you were… Well you.

The two of you just don't make a good pair.

And surely not a good heir, which will be your doom.

"You look tired." his voice was since yesterday really soothing somehow. "When we are in the train you can sleep."

"Are you sure?" you looked at him as he smiled.

"Yeah, I will wake you up."

You smiled hesitantly back. "Thank you."

~

"What were you thinking? I mean-" your mother paced through the room of the arrangement. "Have I taught you nothing?"

Her voice was loud, piercing, ready to hurt you. As she stood before you, you made yourself ready. "You have to inform the higher ups! Is that to much for you stupid brain?"

"I know mother." your voice trying it's best to be steady as you looked at the ground. "But Gojo…"

She shook her head. "Don't come me with that, it is ridiculous! As if he would be soooo passionate about going with you to the honeymoon! Do you think I'm dumb?"

She looked you in the eyes. "You two are not that close. You prove that every time you talk about him."

"But he was really excited to see…"

"God, stop with your excuses! We are not mad you are on your honeymoon and you know that!" she raised a hand to shut you down. "We are mad because you didn't provide us with information like promised."

You hung your head a bit lower, the guilt pushing you down. You didn't feel guilty because messing up, you felt guilty because you seem to have disappoint her yet again. After she gave you all these chances.

"Yes, mother."

She sighed. Her voice becoming unsteady for a second. Suddenly you felt a cold hand creeping up your back making you shiver.

"You have to get yourself together."

The hand caressing your cheek while wind blew inside your ear. Was there someone beside you?

"All of Jujutsu Society is counting on you right now. A new heir is needed to keep the world balance right. And you are the one needed right now."

The cold fingers went down to your throat. First careful, then more forceful. You wanted to stand up and scream, kick around yourself, but you didn't want to seem that crazy in front of your mother.

"Do you understand?"

Carefully slow your head rose. The hand now pressing down and chocking you slowly.

"Yes, mother."

She smiled. But it wasn't sincere. No, it was her mask smile, the one she kept on when the arrangements occurred. Steady and stern, not revealing anything.

"Well then you can say it to them directly."

The room around you began to spin and transform. Dizziness flooded you, but you were unsure if it came from the sudden change or the deficit of air. Or both.

When you could see through the spinning, a room full of nothingness became clear. The only thing you could decipher was-

"Mrs. Gojo. We thought we were on the same page."

The presence of the higher ups.

You couldn't speak, no everything was blurry and dark and just… Just unbearable. Your body seemed like a prison that kept you there, your mind trying to push out of it.

"Didn't we make ourselves clear?"

You didn't get any air anymore, tears started to dwell up in your eyes. When was the last time you let yourself cry like that?

"Mrs. Gojo. We THOUGHT you knew now of what your importance your marriage to Gojo Satoru is. Why we have to know your decisions."

You hiccuped and almost choked on your tears.

"So WHY did you just LEA-"

A sudden push and pull of your body made you jump. Your eyes now blinking wide open, while the world seemed to keep spinning.

"Hey… Hey! What's wrong??"

You kept your eyes open and the only thing that didn't spin were the eyes in front of you. The sunglasses pulled down, Gojo's blue eyes were wide open. The world around you seemed to stop spinning and you started to feel his close presence.

"Nothing, I'm okay." you looked down and noticed his hands on your shoulders. His grip on you was steady yet still soft.

"Are you kidding me? You were crying in your sleep just now." He tried to look you in the eyes as you looked stubbornly onto the ground.

"I just had a nightmare." you winded yourself out of his soothing grip. "Are we there yet?"

You looked him in the face with your usual mask on, trying to hide the panic in your head. Gojo frowned and looked almost concerned.

"Next station. But are you sure you're okay-"

"Alright, perfect. Thank you." hastily you cut him off, not wanting to go deeper into the topic while you smiled your best 'everything is alright' smile at him.

He swallowed it. For now.

But his hand was still close to your shoulder. And he didn't pull it away. While looking outside he spoke again.

"We will sleep in the little hotel of Hinas Grandmother. It's not far from the train station."

You nodded while trying to calm down from the roller-coaster of emotions you were just on.

"Okay, then let's get our things now. We are almost there."

~

"Gojo, let me carry on thing please." you pleaded while following your husband as he shook his head.

His hand on your suitcases and an additional backpack on his back. "No chance. I'm not letting you carry anything. You are exhausted enough."

You looked around seeing the stares of other people in this small place. It must have been a really odd picture. A big man carrying two suitcases behind him while his wife was just following him. Oh god…

"Please Gojo, people are staring." you whispered to him but he just whistled with a smile on his face.

You sighed and embraced your fate. He was really something.

"There it is!" he nodded in direction of a small old, building. It had charm and you couldn't help but smile.

You opened the doors for your stubborn husband and adored the older structure of the house. And at the counter stood an elderly woman smiling at you. You couldn't help but smile back.

"Good day to you two. Sleeping here for the night?" she spoke calmly and slow. And still had that glint in her eyes.

"Yeah, we have reservations on the name Gojo." Gojo smiled and leaned onto the counter while holding his ID. The woman looked at it and gasped.

"Oh, you were the lovely couple Hina told me about! Of course we have a room for you two. Honeymoon, wasn't it?" she smiled at you.

You wanted to disagree but slowly it dawned to you. She thought you were married. Well, you were married, but she thought you were married because you wanted to.

"Yes, Honeymoon. Took awhile to convince her to go here." Gojo laughed while taking the key.

"Oh, really?" the woman looked at you surprised.

"Well, that's just not right." you gasped while taking your own suitcase before gojo could take it. "I didn't want to leave immediately, but he wanted to just go, go, go."

"Well, Darling, I just couldn't wait." He grinned at you with that sparkle in his eye. "Is that so bad?"

"You know it is-"

The woman laughed and shook her head. "Oh you two…" she swiped a tear away. "Young love is so refreshing."

You couldn't help the blush that was creeping up again, for the second time this day, and just wanted to hide your face forever before he saw you like that. You looked at the stairs.

And there stood Gojo ready to go upstairs. Smiling at you.

You cleared your throat, while hoping to get a grip on to yourself and pulled your things behind you. "Thank you for the lovely Hospitality."

"Oh, any time." she waved as you stood before the stairs. "Just make yourself at home. Just like Hina has a home at yours."

You waved back, while smiling, before pulling your things up. You forgot how heavy it was, since Gojo carried it till here. But you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of asking for his help and proving that you were just as exhausted as he thought.

As you stood before your room you raised an eyebrow at him. "Darling?"

He smiled and turned around to open the room with the key. "Oh, you know. Just slipped."

"Really?" you pulled your things into the room, while following him. He chuckled lightly.

"Yeah. And, well, we are here just a married couple. Not an arrangement for the future of the jujutsu society. So we should act like one."

"Suree." you looked around. And horror began to settle.

You were registered as a married couple. So you had only one big bed. And a normal married couple wouldn't have problems with that, would it?

"I will take the couch." your voice was much more quiet now. It was like they were here, chanting that they need a heir. And you shouldn't be so irrational.

"No way." he shook his head. "You look like you need days of sleep. I'm not letting you sleep on the uncomfortable couch."

"It's not a problem." you walked over to the couch and sat down. It wasn't comfortable, he was right. But who would hurt a little lie?

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow at you. "Let's make a deal."

You looked him in the eyes, in those beautiful eyes. "I'm all ears."

He grinned. "You lie down in the bed for now and sleep till evening while I explore the town. You need the sleep. And later we can discuss who sleeps where."

"I don't have to sleep nooooo-" a yawn interrupted you. "hw. Forget it. Let's do it like you said."

He grinned even wider while handing you the backpack with water inside. "Then make yourself comfortable."

He stood up and took his things and the key. But while pulling the door handle down he stooped.

"Oh, and one thing." he took a book out of the backpack and handed it to you. "I read this before sleeping. Helps me. Even for nightmares. Just in case."

You looked at the title of the book and it said 'Before the coffee gets cold'. A black cat on the cover and you couldn't help but smile.

You looked up at him and chuckled to yourself.

"Thank you, Gojo."

~

You did have problems sleeping. It wasn't that the bed was uncomfortable.

But you couldn't help but think of the things that the higher ups expected you to do on it.

The covers laid heavy on you, while your hand reached for the book Gojo gave you. A chapter couldn't hurt. And maybe he was right and it really helped.

He was really nice to you. He seemed to make an effort right now. And you appreciated that he wanted to make this arrangement easier (since he was really making it hard in the beginning).

And he was so nice and open to you. And he helped you with the luggage and while sleeping. And his eyes were so-

Oh no.

Oh no no no no no no no.

No that wasn't happening right now. Not after you just had a couple of conversations. It couldn't be.

But as you read a couple of sentences and felt yourself relaxing to the story, you knew that it was. You couldn't fight the smile that made it's way onto your face.

God dammit.

~

Satoru was worried about you. You looked like you didn't sleep in weeks even though it could have only been last night. You were stressed.

And as much as he wanted you to relax, he couldn't force anything that would just stress you more.

But it was so nice to see you smile from time to time. After all the silence and hiding was it like fresh wind.

"Oh, Mr. Gojo already going out?" Hina's grandmother smiled at him while going through the oages of the visitor book.

"My wife is tired, and I wanted to explore the town." he made his way to the counter again. "Do you have any advice for good restaurants? Or cafés?"

"Oh, I do." she smiled at him. "Sato's kitchen down the street is lovely. And the atmosphere is perfect for a romantic dinner."

She sighed. "My husband and I went there a couple of times, when we were younger. It's a lovely place. Not cheap. But lovely."

He chuckled at that. "Thank you, that sounds like something we have to check out. And anything for take out? I don't want her to have to move again today."

She laughed. "Aren't you a gentleman! Well if you look for good take out, we have a good ramen shop in the main street."

"Then I have to check it out." He made a little dramatic bow. "Thank you for your wisdom Mrs. Sato."

She made sure it wasn't a problem as he left. And if he has any questions of what to do here with his wife he could just come to her.

And he wouldn't forget that.

~

Your body felt heavy as you heard a quiet creak. Your eyes were shut and your head felt a bit dizzy. You still held the book in your hands as you heard a couple of steps.

"You back, Gojo?" you mumbled, your eyes not wanting to open.

"Yeah, but it's not important just keep sleeping."

You wanted to sit up but your body felt heavy. You groaned as you realized what that meant.

"You tricked me…" you weren't sure he would even understand your mumbling. "I'm sleeping now in the bed, and I can't do anything about it…"

You heard a light chuckle that made your traitor of a heart jump.

"I didn't trick you, we had a deal. And now we decided that you sleep in the bed and I sleep on the couch."

"We didn't decide anything…" your voice became more of a whisper as you felt your consciousness drifting away.

"Well," his voice was suddenly really close. "You only have a say if you drop the last name."

Your eyes opened and looked into his. He sat at the end of the big bed, head on his hands as he looked at you.

"I'm Satoru. We are Gojo." He smiled.

"And as Mrs. Gojo you are not alone."

Your eyes fell shut after that. And maybe you were just imagining that. But it still made you feel traitorous warm inside.

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@bloopsstuff @rnriz @kcch-ns

[backtothefanfiction]

The Weapon/Collateral Damage | Joaquin Torres x Reader Imagine

Summary: maybe being the new Falcon’s girlfriend wasn’t the best idea after all.

Warnings: kidnapping, experimentation, torture, angst

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I had an idea just before bed and ran with it. Not sure I’m happy with the ending but it is what it is. As I said I wrote it just before bed so probably some mistakes that have slipped through the cracks.

You had tried to wait up for him. You always tried to wait up for him, but when the clock hit midnight your eyes grew heavy. Begrudgingly you got ready for bed, climbing underneath the covers with every intention of reading a few chapters of your book. Surely he’d be back soon.

You startled awake at the sound of something out in the living room. You were sure you could hear shuffling feet and a male voice muttering. You checked the time on your phone 2:30am. It was late for him, but not that late, especially when you’d thought about how far away him and Sam had been working.

“Joaquin?” You called out as you stumbled into the hallway and made your way through the apartment to the open living diner, but there was no response. It made your hackles rise.

“Joaquin?” You said again. You were sure you had heard something. “Joaquin?” You called out one last time as you entered the room, but there was no one there. You could have sworn you heard-

There was a sudden pinch in your neck and you reached your hand up to try and feel what it was, but you suddenly felt very heavy. You were aware of arms catching you as you began to fall, but then, there was nothing.

When you woke again your tongue felt heavy. Your head throbbed slightly and it took all your effort to force your eyes to open. You were definitely conscious, but your body was taking its time to catch up. You tried to lift your arms and rub away the heavy tiredness from your eyes, but they wouldn’t move. You tried again, but something was holding them in place.

You tried to move your legs, having equally as little luck as something dug into your ankles. You groaned in frustration. Your eyes finally opened and began to focus. It was bright. Too bright. Far too bright for you to be at home. You tried to think back to what you last remembered. You had been at home waiting for Joaquin when… Someone had taken you. Someone had broken into the apartment and taken you. But why? And what did they want?

You tried to move again. Tried to sit up, but you were firmly strapped down. Your heartbeat began to rapidly rise as fear suddenly took over.

“Hey!!! Hello!!! Is anybody there?!” You called out.

You tried to turn your head and look around the room better. To look for anyone. Look for answers. But there weren’t any. There was just the horrible white ceiling tiles and fluorescent lights.

You had been taken. Kidnapped. Most likely because of who you were dating. Because you were close to superheroes. You thrashed wildly as you tried once again to wiggle free of your restraints, but they were too tight. It was no use.

“HELP!” You cried out. “SOMEBODY HELP ME!”

“Now, now, there’ll be none of that,” a male voice came from one side of the room as a door opened.

You quickly stilled, listening closely to the man’s footsteps grow closer.

“Who are you? What do you want with me?” You asked trying to sound brave, but your voice shook and tears threatened your eyes.

“It doesn’t matter who I am, my dear. I’m more interested in who you are. Yes, you’re very important indeed,” he said. There was a sound of rattling metal moving across the floor and you desperately tried to look to your right to see him move a rolling metal tray into view. A plethora of medical equipment on top.

“What are you going to do to me?” You asked, fear laced into every word you spoke.

“I’m gonna make you better,” he said in a soft and cheerful voice, but his words did very little to comfort you. “Now, you may feel a slight pinch.” You watched as he plunged a needle into your arm.

“What’s that?” You asked, but you didn’t have time to get an answer as the blue liquid in the syringe was squeezed into your veins. Your body began to tense and thrash, it felt like fire passing through your blood and you began to thrash and scream.

“Now, now, we’ll have none of that,” he said again before he moved to place a mask over your nose and mouth. Gas was slowly pumped into it and before you knew it you began to feel woozy again.

“That’s it, atta girl,” the man said and your body began to relax until your eyes grew heavy and everything went black.

When you woke up next you were lying alone in a cell. There was a small toilet and sink in the corner, but apart from that, there was nothing else other than the mattress on the floor you were currently lying on. It was so dark. There was a faint red light in the corner of the room, but nothing else. No windows. No nothing.

“Hello?” You called out as you forced yourself to sit up. “HELLO!” You called louder when you got no response.

Your skin felt itchy. No not your skin, it was something deeper. More of a mild burning sensation you couldn’t get rid of.

“HELLLOOOO!” You called again as you slowly began to stand.

Your legs were wobbly as you tried to slowly feel for a door. You thought you could hear a siren going off in the distance. Suddenly there was a click of a latch, letting you know, not just where the door was, but that it was now open. This was all so weird. Where were you? What was going on?

You slowly stepped out into the light of a corridor. The lights were all dimmed and there was a swirling red warning light high up on the wall at one end of the corridor. When you looked to the right there was a heavy set of double doors. Both firmly shut tight. You looked to the left to find another set of doors at the other end of the corridor, but these ones were propped open.

You moved towards the open doors. The whole place looked like a deserted hospital ward. There was no one in sight. It unnerved you. Your heart rate began to rise, your palms growing sweaty as you slowly stumbled towards an empty lab and the memory of being tied down and the creepy man came back to you. The feeling of the blue liquid being injected into your veins. What the?

There was the sound of heavy boots running down the hall. “Y/N!” You heard his voice call. Joaquin.

You turned just in time to see him come to a stop in the open doorway to the lab.

“Joaquin?” You said shakily.

“I’m here baby, I’m here,” he said, trying to cross the room to you, but you stepped back.

“No, no, no! Stay back!” You shouted at him, throwing your hands up, trying to get him to stop.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, immediately freezing, his own look of panic falling over his face.

“They did something to me,” you said frightened. “They injected me with something and-“ as your fear continued to rise, so did that burning feeling under your skin. As you continued to panic, your hands began to glow. There was definitely something not right.

“Baby, I need you to breathe and calm down for me,” Joaquin tried to coach you, but it was no use. You were so far gone. The fear and terror over your situation was fully taking over. “Y/N,” he warned as that brightness and burning sensation in your hands grew.

You began to shake them, unsure of what else to do.

“Baby, just stay still, don’t move. I need you to just breathe for me okay. Focus on me. Just me. Okay? Slowly now, slowly.”

“What’s happening to me?” You asked frantically, your voice shaking as tears spilled from your eyes.

“We’re gonna work this out together okay? I just need you to calm down, okay?… Y/N?”

Joaquin ducked for cover as that blinding light took over and burst from your hands, burning a hole in the wall just behind where Joaquin had been standing. It scared the life out of you. You almost hit him. That would have killed him… Hang on a second, that’s exactly what they wanted. To make you a weapon. So you would take down your own boyfriend.

“Baby?” Joaquin said placatingly again as he stood in front of you. You just looked at your hands in disbelief.

This wasn’t happening. No…

“Y/N, look at me. I’m right here. I’m right here with you,” Joaquin said urgently and when you looked at him you could see his own fear and worry in his eyes. The guilt knowing he was the reason this had happened to you.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice breaking.

“Don’t you dare be sorry. This isn’t your fault okay? We’ll get through this,” he said, but you were so worried you wouldn’t. What if you would never be okay again?

The fear began to make that light take over again.

“Baby, I need you to talk to me. Come on, talk to me. Let me help you, bottling everything up is only gonna make it worse,” he said before he jumped to the side again as another burst of energy blasted from your hands.

“Ahhhh make it stop!” You screamed desperately trying to keep your hands directed away from him. “I don’t want to hurt you,” you cried through sobs. “Joaquin, I'm so scared.”

“I know, I know,” he said, steadily trying to step forward towards you. “I’ve got you, okay. We’ll get through this together like we always do. Okay?”

You nodded, not unable to get any words past the lump in your throat. “I didn’t want any of this,” you finally said.

“I know, I know,” he said again softly, his hand reaching out for you but not quite touching you, as if he was waiting for you to be ready to come to him. “We’ll get through this, okay? I just need you to trust me. Let me take you home.”

You shook your head. You couldn’t trust yourself, not like this. What if you hurt someone?

“Baby?” he said warily as you began to back away from him.

“I’m a weapon. They made me a weapon. To hurt you! I won’t! Please don’t make me-“

He moved quickly, grabbing both of your arms and holding them at your sides, forcing you to look at him. You swallowed deeply, trying to push away all the panic and fear.

“I’ve got you,” he said calmly. “I trust you.”

“But what if I hurt-“

“You’re not gonna hurt me. Okay, just ignore it for a second. Just breathe. Just be here with me. Breathe with me. In,” he said, taking a deep breath in and your tried to copy him. “And out,” he said slowly exhaling. “In….. and out. You’re doing so good.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know. But just breathe. In… and out.”

Slowly you began to calm and the light under your skin began to fade. “In… and out.” Joaquin continued to coach. “I’ve got you,” he reminded you, his thumb rubbing softly over your arm. “I’ve got you.”

When you were calm enough, you allowed him to pull you fully into his arms. “I’m so sorry,” he said into the top of your head as he held you close to him. “This is all my fault, I’m so sorry.” You gently began to cry against him but it was with relief and a feeling of safety, not fear.

“We’ll fix this,” he said as he pulled himself back to look into your eyes, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks tenderly. “I’ll fix this, I promise.” He said and you hoped he could. Hoped that everything would be okay. But unfortunately as you felt that burning feeling still tickling your veins, you feared it never would be again.

[ramazottin]

I ❤️ FORSAKEN SO HERE'S ALL THE LORE I COULD FIND

(From the wiki, ingame descriptions/dialouge and the discord. Also, this is outdated. Check the post at the very bottom to see the updated version.)

••••••••KILLERS••••••••

COOLKID

His ingame description: An adopted son from a single father with childlike curiosity, but with the strength of a monster. He appears as a red, flesh-like humanoid that can kill fast and traverse fast. He is known for his association with a vandalization group called "team c00lkidd".

C00lkidd is scared of John Doe. [007n7 (c00lkidd's father) told him stories about John Doe.]

The sword coolkid uses is the firebrand from SFOTH

In Forsaken's lore, c00lkidd is only 10 years old.

c00lkidd is not fully aware of what he's doing, as he believes he's just roughhousing and thinks everyone he kills is just tired out and taking a nap.

c00lkidd likes dirt cake, which is made with crushed up cookies (preferably in a dark color), pudding, and gummy worms. The cookies represents dirt and the gummy worms resemble live earthworms.

c00lkidd loved reindeers, being mentioned when you buy the Reindeer skin of 007n7.

I TRIED MY BEST TO FIT ALL THE PICTURES ON A SINGLE PAGE(since tumblr only allows 10 pictures per post)

1X1X1X1

1x4's ingame description: The physical manifestation of pure malice, hatred, and negativity himself; the one who despises no one else more than the former admin, Shedletsky. With the daemonshank in his hands, he can summon beings of rot from the deceased, as well as target survivors from afar, poisoning them in the process.

1x1x1x1 is genderfluid.

When he kills you, 1x4 fills your head with poison then crushes it.

JOHN DOE

His ingame description: The defunct code of the early days of Roblox courses through their body, consuming his mind as he now only focuses on one thing: to kill everyone in his path. An unstoppable force entering the round with a strategical mindset, he's able to set traps, summon walls to back survivors into a corner, and leave behind a faint trail that damages those who step on it.

He prefers either super basic foods or fancy dishes.

John Doe doesn't use his right arm (the heavily corrupted one) to attack, since it's really heavy and inconvenient.

John and Jane doe are canonically a married couple. After John got corrupted, he no longer remembers her.

JASON

Jason's ingame description: A man who's identity is covered by a crude hockey mask. Wielding several tools at his disposal, along with his thirst for the cat-and-mouse chase, his hands and/or tools are always seen bloody. He enters his damnation wielding his infamous machete & a chainsaw he found in a cabin.

•••••••SURVIVORS•••••••

007n7

007n7 uses a lesser version of the c00lgui because it is all he had access to at the time.

007n7 is canonically retired from hacking.

007n7 wears his shirt because c00lkidd likes it.

007n7 is C00lkidd's adoptive father.

C00lkidd showed up on his doorstep as a pill baby.

007n7 feels a pang of familiarity whenever he sees C00lkidd in the rounds.

007n7 has a special death animation if killed by c00lkidd, where c00lkidd gently lays him down on the ground. He also does not resist in the death animation.

007n7 is a good dad.

SHEDLETSKY

Shedletsky is seemingly the leader of the survivor group, with his Co-Leader Builderman. Shedletsky has made a vow with Builderman to attempt to keep everyone safe, no matter what.

If 1x1x1x1 and Shedletsky are the only ones left, a different last man standing song will play, which is called “Meet your Maker”, and the timer will have an extra 20-30 seconds (one of the devs said it was to let the whole song play LMAO). This is due to Shedletsky being the one to actually create 1x1x1x1, by making a test account on Roblox and naming it respectively. He then rumored about 1x1x1x1 being a hacker and he not having the account, (which he obviously did). The quote “Blame John” comes from that.

TWO TIME

Their ingame description: A fragile cultist holding a horrible secret. When mortally wounded, they resurrect themselves with wings and tails, and recover as if nothing had happened. They are a self-described Shadow with an unstable mind and guilt-stricken after the betrayal against their own partner. They still carry on, after all, shadows die twice.

Two Time is said to be "messed up in the membrane". This is also why they smile during rounds.

They believe in the concept of respawning and likely worships the spawn-point.

Two Time used to be in relationship with an upcoming killer, Azure.

It was said they stabbed Azure with a dagger which led to them becoming a killer.

The description of Undying Devotion is most likely Azure saying "what have you done..?" after being stabbed by Two Time.

It is possible that Two time sacrificed Azure to gain their second life.

Two time is nonbinary and uses they/them.

ELLIOT

He will do whatever he can to help his teammates and deliver his orders due to his sheer dedication for his job.

CHANCE

Their wiki descriprion: A wealthy limited trader and underground casino worker, Chance is one who is fascinated with gambling and will even gamble with his own life just because he's convinced he'll win. There is no route he won't go just to gamble some more, even in a life or death situation.

Chance owes Bluudud a domino, as said in one of the voicelines of Bluudud.

Chance is nonbinary and uses he/they.

BUILDERMAN

Builderman is canonically the boss at Roblox, and the main person who builds the site itself. When all goes wrong he has to be the one to go out and fix things, stopping the killers in their tracks.

As a promise with Shedletsky, he'll do all he can to help everyone.

GUEST 1337

Guest 1337 is the main character of the animated series The Last Guest by ObliviousHD, with his story in Forsaken taking place after the events of Part 1.

His wiki description: A hardened veteran with battle scars from wars long ago. He has a tendency to sacrifice himself in order to keep those around him safe.

Guest 1337 entered the world of Forsaken after blowing himself up in part 1 of The Last Guest.

Guest 1337 misses his family and thinks about them between rounds.

Guest 1337 has a wife (Daisy) and a daughter (Charlotte.)

One of Guest 1337's skins called "Matt" is another character from The Last Guest series. He is Guest 1337's best friend ever since they were kids and fought in the battlefield with Guest 1337 before getting shot. Matt survived getting shot and now wears a cast on his leg. (This is not related to Forsaken just so you know)

NOOB

Noob's ingame description: A big snack person at heart, Noob has a handful of food items at their disposal. Sneaking by with their ghostburger, moving faster with their cola, and tanking damage with their slateskin, they're scared, but still pushes on, wanting to find an escape.

Noob is Genderfluid

They are a big snack person. Bloxxy cola is their favorite as it is also guest 666's favorite. (Answer to the question "what's noob's favorite food/drink?" on discord.)

Noob and Guest666 will have a special chase theme in the future, just like shedletsky abd 1x1x1x1/007n7 and coolkid.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here's some other funny shit i could find lol:

Oh and also here's the updated version of the lore:

[amara-scott]

Just friends.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 — Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x female!Slytherin Summary: Hiding the one thing you truly loved, the one person you trusted most was a horrible way to live. But if it was the only way to be with him, you would do anything. And he would do the same. warning: torture, lots of angst, mention of abuse

The silence in the dungeon was shattered by the sound of heavy boots approaching. Theo and I barely had time to exchange a glance before the iron door groaned open. A masked Death Eater stepped inside, gaze fixed on Theo.

"Your turn."

Theo stiffened as the Death Eater advanced, roughly hauling him to his feet. I scrambled forward instinctively, but the second guard slammed a boot into my shoulder, sending me crashing back against the cold stone floor.

"Theo—" I gasped, but he didn’t look back. He didn’t fight, didn’t resist. He simply let them drag him away, the door slamming shut behind them with a finality that sent ice through my veins.

Then came the screams.

I had heard Theo shout before. In frustration, in anger, even in rare moments of unguarded joy. But never like this. The sound was raw, torn from his throat with such agony that it sent me into a shaking mess against the dungeon wall. I pressed my hands over my ears, but it did nothing to drown out the gut-wrenching cries of my best friend.

I squeezed my eyes shut, breath coming in ragged gasps. I wanted it to stop. I needed it to stop.

"Please," I whispered to no one. "Please…"

Minutes stretched into eternity. Every scream, every choked curse made my stomach churn with helpless rage. By the time the door opened again, I had curled into myself, trembling.

Theo was barely standing as they dragged him back in. His face was pale, sweat-slicked, and his arms hung limply at his sides. His legs gave out the moment they released him, and he collapsed to the floor with a harsh grunt.

"Theo!" I crawled forward despite the searing pain in my arm. My hands cupped his face, finding his skin burning hot beneath my fingers. "Hey, look at me—come on, you’re okay. You’re okay."

His eyelids fluttered weakly, lips parting as though to speak, but nothing came out.

"No time for reunions, little one."

A cruel hand twisted into my hair and yanked me backward. I screamed, nails clawing at the Death Eater’s grip, but I was too weak, too slow. My body betrayed me, exhaustion weighing me down as they dragged me away from Theo, his feeble attempt to reach for me nothing more than a sluggish twitch of his fingers.

The dungeon door slammed shut behind me.

I was thrown onto the stone floor, pain jolting through my knees and palms as I barely caught myself. The air was thick with tension, charged with something dark and suffocating.

And then I saw them.

Draco and Mattheo.

They stood near the edge of the room, eyes trained on me. Draco’s face was blank, his hands clenched at his sides, but Mattheo—

His face paled, horror flickering through his dark eyes before he schooled his expression into cold indifference.

But Bellatrix noticed.

"Ah!" She clapped her hands together in delight, her sharp grin stretching wide. "So it’s true! What an adorable little betrayal."

I forced my head up, locking eyes with Mattheo, silently begging him not to react. Not here. Not now.

But the damage was done. Bellatrix stepped closer, her wand tracing lazy patterns in the air. "The Dark Lord was right to be suspicious. You’re quite the little weakness, aren’t you?"

Voldemort stepped forward, his presence drowning the room in ice. "Let’s see if your devotion holds under pressure."

Pain exploded through me before I could brace myself, a thousand knives stabbing through my veins. I choked on a scream, body convulsing against the floor. Through the haze of agony, I barely registered Mattheo taking half a step forward before stopping himself.

Bellatrix chuckled. "Oh, darling, this is going to be so much fun."

I barely managed to lift my head, my gaze finding Mattheo’s once more. His face was a mask, but his hands trembled at his sides.

And I knew, in that moment, that we were both doomed.

Then Voldemort’s voice cut through the chaos, chilling and amused. "Let’s make this even more interesting, shall we?" He turned his piercing gaze on Mattheo. “My dear son, prove your loyalty. Torture her yourself."

The room seemed to freeze. Mattheo’s breath hitched. He didn’t move, didn’t blink. His hands curled into fists at his sides, but his face remained eerily blank.

Draco shifted uneasily beside him, his usual arrogance stripped away, revealing something dangerously close to fear.

Bellatrix tittered. "Oh, how deliciously tragic! What will you do, little Riddle? Obey, or betray?"

Mattheo finally moved, taking a slow step forward. My heart pounded wildly, bile rising in my throat. He wouldn’t—he couldn’t.

But then his wand was in his hand, aimed directly at me.

I held his gaze, silently pleading.

His fingers trembled.

He hesitated.

And Voldemort noticed.

Mattheo hesitated.

Voldemort tilted his head, the ghost of amusement curling his lips. "Well? Do it. Or shall I assume your hesitation is an answer in itself? If not you, I will have Bellatrix take her turn."

Mattheo's jaw clenched. His wand was still aimed at me, but his grip shook, his knuckles white. I could see the war raging behind his eyes, the desperation, the silent plea.

Don’t make me do this.

I could barely breathe. My body was already weakened from the Cruciatus, but the pain of what was happening—what was about to happen—was worse. My vision blurred, but I refused to look away from him. If this was the end of us, I wanted to see him. I wanted him to see me.

Bellatrix hummed, stepping closer to Mattheo, her lips curling in delight. "Oh, my sweet boy, don’t tell me you’re hesitating? What would dear Father think?" She tutted, shaking her head. "What would our Lord think?" She whispered harshly, probably hoping she could take over.

Draco swallowed thickly beside him, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He wasn’t enjoying this—none of them were. But none of them could stop it. Not without damning themselves.

Voldemort’s patience was wearing thin. "Do it."

A single breath. A single moment.

Then—

"Crucio."

White-hot agony tore through me once again, burning through my veins like molten fire. My screams echoed off the stone walls, splitting through the suffocating silence. My body convulsed against the cold ground, every nerve ignited in unbearable torment. It was worse than before—so much worse.

Because it was him.

Mattheo.

And he had to mean it to cast it.

Tears streamed from my eyes, but whether they were from pain or betrayal, I couldn’t tell. My mind was drowning in agony, my muscles locking and seizing beyond my control. And still, somewhere through the haze, I could hear it—

A strangled breath. A broken gasp.

Mattheo’s.

His hand trembled violently as he held his wand, his face ashen, his eyes wild with horror. The spell flickered—weak, unstable—because he couldn’t bear to do it properly. But even this, even his hesitation, was enough to rip me apart.

Bellatrix cackled. "Oh, how tragic! Look at him—so tortured, so conflicted!"

Voldemort, however, was unimpressed. His voice was as cold as death. "Pathetic."

With a flick of his wand, I was released from the curse, my body collapsing like a ragdoll. Every limb was shaking, my breath coming in short, choked gasps. My skin was clammy with sweat, my heartbeat a frantic, erratic mess.

Mattheo dropped his wand. It clattered against the stone floor, the sound deafening in the silence.

He took a step back, his expression shattered, his hands shaking as though they’d never be steady again. His lips parted, forming my name, but no words came out. Because what could he possibly say? The tormented look on his face, the tears running down his cheeks, as realization hit him of what he had just done. But I wasn't mad. I couldn't be.

Voldemort watched him with cruel amusement, then turned to me. "You should be grateful," he mused, stepping closer, my view of Mattheo now blocked by the dark lords feet. "If he had put real effort into it, you’d be much worse off."

A slow smirk curled his lips. "But he failed me. And failures… must be punished."

Mattheo barely had time to react before Voldemort’s wand slashed through the air.

"Crucio!"

Mattheo didn’t scream.

His body buckled, knees slamming into the stone, but he didn’t make a sound. His teeth clenched, his face contorted in pain, but he swallowed every cry, every plea. Like he has been through this before. Like it has been nothing new.

And I broke all over again.

"Stop!" My voice was raw, barely more than a sob. I tried to move, but my limbs refused to cooperate. "Please—please stop!"

But Voldemort didn’t stop. He watched Mattheo writhe, his suffering an idle amusement, his punishment a lesson. The room was filled with the sickening crack of Mattheo’s nails scraping against the stone, his muscles spasming under the curse.

"My, my," Bellatrix purred. "He’s quite the resilient one, isn’t he? But how long do you think he’ll last?"

Draco was pale, his fists trembling at his sides. But he did nothing. He couldn’t. No one could.

Tears streaked down my face. I couldn’t look away. I was unable to stop this. I was helpless.

I was the reason he was suffering.

Voldemort finally lifted the curse, and Mattheo collapsed forward, his forehead resting against the stone, his breaths ragged and uneven. His body twitched with aftershocks, his shoulders shaking from something that wasn’t quite pain—

But something much worse.

Voldemort’s voice was quiet. Deceptively calm. "Let this be a lesson to you, my son. If you ever hesitate again, I will make you regret it."

Mattheo didn’t answer. He didn’t move. He just knelt there, broken.

Voldemort turned back to me, his expression unreadable. "As for you…" His wand traced the air lazily. "I think you’ve had enough fun for one night. We still need you and that weak boy."

And with that, the guards wrenched me up, dragging me away. I barely had the strength to struggle, my body limp, my spirit crushed.

But as they pulled me through the doorway, my eyes found Mattheo’s one last time.

He was still on his knees, his hands curled into fists against the stone.

And I knew, with every shattered piece of my heart—

This would never stop haunting him.

Neither of us would ever be whole again.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Taglist: @genterom903 @a-little-funny @revesephemeres

[guillotinesandroses]

Critical Hit! It Was Super Effective; Idia Shroud + Genderfluid Reader

Idia regrets having been brought into this world altogether. Whether he went wrong in agreeing to meet you or getting out of bed this morning, he does not know. Either way, he can safely add each second he spends fumbling his words to his long list of mistakes to reprimand himself for before falling asleep. Sitting on his bed, he slouches over his gaming console as you hum in the other room, changing your clothes again. With his expertise in cosplay, he was the only person you could rely on to help you choose your costume. 

At least that was your reason for inviting yourself to his room all of a sudden. Those Baby Doll-Eyes you sent him were absolutely Foul Play. He could not say no at all, butterflies swarming in his belly. Chewing on the edge of his sleeve, he tries to calm down before his hair betrays the look of calmness he tries to display. His formerly online exclusive crush is only changing clothes in the other room, eager to step out to ask his opinion on which outfit gets picked. 

That's no big deal, no pressure at all! He lies to himself as he chews on his neon blue lips. If he had known he would be entering a final boss level battle sequence today, he would have prepared much better. His armor- a hoodie and sweatpants- would be replaced with much more appealing clothes. He would have bothered to do something about his hair- to up his charisma stat of course- and cleaned his room thoroughly. 

Still there is no use in fussing over that now. He tried to do some damage control at first when you disappeared into his closet, only to flush when you came back and teased him for it. Sure, you assured him you did not mind, that your room was somehow worse, but none of that could ease his racing heart. He breathes in as he recalls all the clothes you have worn- suits, dresses, armor- all of them looked incredible. How is he meant to help you choose when any of the stunning combinations freeze him in place? 

If only this were a simple dress-up game, he could speak his mind with ease. Instead he stutters and mumbles, barely even getting out a fragment of the praise he wishes he could give. You must be a shapeshifter or some kind of seducer, looking that good in some many different styles is so unfair it should be illegal. A familiar, lovely voice snaps him out of his thoughts. He blue-screens. 

"Alright, this is the last one, like I said. What do you think, Idia?" You step out, now in the sweetest, most detailed maid dress he has ever seen. 

His defenses go down and you land a direct blow right in the middle of his hit-box. This attack must have been the type to earn bonus damage from body-shots rather than head-shots. What a rare and tricky move, he needs to find a counter and fast! 

Unfortunately, he never applied too many stat points to speed or charisma. You glance away from the mirror to look over your shoulder and blow him a kiss. It's a one-hit K.O!

He flushes, jumping and falling back onto his bed. As you rush over to check on him, he averts his gaze the best he can. "Idia, are you alright? Are you sure you're feeling well? I could get you something if you want me to." 

"Sorry... I overestimated my gear and stats. I'm way under-leveled for this..." he trails off, totally out of it, covering his face with his blue sleeve. Wearing a maid dress and asking him something like that is just way too cruel. Your motives may be pure but his heart is not, and he cannot decide whether he prefers this or the butler suit. 

What a horrible choice he was for helping to pick a costume. You must regret asking him now. Actually, you have to be regretting ever meeting him in person at all. In game he always made you laugh, bantered back and forth, kept up with you. He can barely speak like this, and you had to have realized by now how lame he is. 

In moments, against what he himself wants, he ushers you out of his room. He starts off muttering, speech getting faster the longer he stands in the doorway. "Yeah... I'm really not feeling well. I'm gonna have Ortho check on me, so don't worry about it. TTYL and all, Gloomurai logging off!" 

He slams the door shut, then slides against it. Face burning up from embarrassment, he runs his bony fingers over it. Great, he has blown it again. IRL interactions are such a pain to deal with. 

Even so, he cannot get out the images of you in those different costumes out of his head. With a wistful sigh, he equips a pencil and pulls his notebook from his inventory. Sketching what he has seen should distract him at least. If he gets the details down perfectly now, he can remember your beauty later. He pauses at the thought, then erupts in pink again. 

Covering his mouth, he shuts his golden eyes. He really has got it bad, doesn't he? According to all the data he has gathered on relationships, by now you should be disgusted, at the very least put off by his demeanor. However, against all odds, you keep on coming back. You tell him not to worry, but how could he not? 

If you knew about his feelings, you would surely not be so dismissive of his doubts. Someone so out of his league accepting his feelings could  only be a daydream at most. Even so, he sends you one last selfish message, thoroughly unaware of the smile it would later bring to your face. "Choose the knight costume. I want to match this year." 

[evilminji]

Okay... so it COULD be because, as a writer, I'm an ASSHOLE to my Characters...

BUT YOU KNOW WHAT'D BE FUNNY?

Danny, innocent, gets YEETED into DC. As ya do. And he's a bit messed up. But! He's a Baby Ancient in the making. Gonna be master of Spaaaaaace(~~~☆!) one day. Very exciting, only slightly relevant.

See, Ectoplasm? Dumb. That's why we need Cores and Brains etc. Never let Ectoplasm decide things. It WILL chose the "technically correct but now the buildings on fire" option EVERY SINGLE TIME. And you are running out of fire extinguishers.

Because it is dumb.

Very, VERY No Brain, Just Goo, Dumb.

And THIS Goo has a life to save. A Halfa too maintain in Peak Performance(tm). Because THIS Goo is VERY smart Goo(according only to itself) and TOTALLY knows what it's doing! Damaged meat bits? Oh that's EASY! You just FIX that! Replace with meat bits! See? It's BRILLIANT Goo. 10 out of 10 stars, me!

Small problem.

The instructions have been damaged.

PANIC.

Wait! No! We got this! We are Very Smart Goo(tm). And have Space Powers. This is FINE. We'll... we'll just FIX the instructions! Hand me a hammer! If we smash enough bits together, it'll sort? Of look right? Close ENOUGH? Yeeeeeah. We're GENIUS Goo~

Use THAT!

But where did they GET their ill begotten DNA? Well OBVIOUSLY the place all the OTHER DNA they had was stored, DUH? Keep up, says the Goo with literally no braincells making horrifying choices for an unconscious man. It's Earth.

As in... the planet.

It's not even HIS planet. It's AN Earth. A Planet CALLED "Earth" that dwells in the DC universe, not his, and is covered with ZERO(0) Fentons but plenty of superhumans and aliens. THAT planet.

The Goo grabbed the Very BESTEST Meat Instructions it could FIND! The Goo is also a collective and did not AGREE on what the "Best" WAS. But it's... okay, no, I can't lie to you, it is NOT fine.

But thankfully it IS stable.

Because Ectoplasm may be dumb and indiscriminate as super-bacteria with a flamethrower, but it is a MASTER at the jigsaw of Life. It can reanimate ANYTHING.

Including the now SINGLE MOST CHIMERAD MAN you've ever SEEN. Who is he related too? YES. His left knee is Kryptonian, the fingers on his right hand are Tameranian, his skin tone has shifted to the most ambiguously multi-ethnic tone imaginable (think that future of humanity mock up, where they combine every ethnicity on the premise that inter-racial marriage will becoming increasingly common up to the point where we all just kinda look averaged out thanks to the ease of travel) because it's trying to do all of them at once and none of them are willing to back down, because all of them got the instructions "Be Skin". He might have Slade Wilson's cheek bones and hair.

Danny wakes up and basicly is half Ectoplasmic Goo, half the extended Super Community.

AND CANT GET BACK HOME TO FIX IT.

Because of course this IS fixable. It's just medical shape-shifting. But without HIS template, undamaged. His body is REFUSING to change from what is OBVIOUSLY the CORRECT form. And he keeps getting clocked as "probably related to me".

With the Fenton Luck kicking in? The parts of him people manage to swab and/or get DNA from? Keep MATCHING them. Danny doesn't know WHO is behind this but-! *spots a giggle child with a cat* !!!!!!

You.

Klarion you little SHIT!

So now he's wearing a face that's BARELY his, running from very determined superhumans who want to parent him, trying to steal enough technology to build a portal. AND vowing to kick the witch boy's ASS.

This ISNT FUNNY, KLARION.

His body is Frankenstein's FEVER DREAM! Every time he gets hurt, it tries to "FIX" itself! He lost a chunk of his should back there and HIS ENTIRE BODY CHANGED SKIN TONES. He's pretty sure if he SITS funny, his teeth might fall out and regrow POINTY! He's handing you over to WALKER you horrible little gremlin child!

Just? Take the "Danny is related to X" and "Danny is sick" and turn them uuuuup. Make EVERYBODY concerned except Danny. This is just another fucked up adventure in a long string of fucked up adventures. Give him his DNA back. If he has to suffer the Fenton Luck then he should AT LEAST get to keep the Fenton "built like a tank"!

*gets hit again*

*is GREEN now for some reason* The fuck?

Garfield, aka Beast Boy: I HAVE A CLONE SON!?

Danny: Zone DAMN IT not another one!

@ailithnight @hdgnj @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter

[sunwoowrites]

His Anger, His resentment- He's Hurt. (Part 2)

Y/N x Chan Angst, comfort.

Ever since the presumed breakup, I have been living at full speed. I have lived, breathed ‘mastering the perfect morning routine’. I wake up before dawn every day, dragging myself out of bed despite the exhaustion that clings to my bones. The gym has become my battlefield. Every rep, every mile, every drop of sweat is a fight to silence the voices in my head—voices that echo his words: "Lazy." I push myself harder each day, as if working out long enough will erase the sting of those words, as if making my body strong will somehow make me enough.

My days are consumed by a strict routine I’ve crafted - meditation, journaling, praying. Anything to “centre” myself, the thoughts that swirl around me, constantly reminding me of how "ungrateful" I was in his eyes. I tell myself it’s working, that I’m doing better, that I’m healing—but the reality is, I’m drowning in the pressure I’ve put on myself.

Hours slip by as I force my mind to focus, to study every page like it’s my lifeline. I’m not just studying; I’m cramming, obsessing over every detail, determined to prove I’m not the lazy, unmotivated person he accused me of being. I’m trying to prove my self-worth.

The kitchen has turned into a place of torture. I spend endless hours trying to perfect my recipes, tweaking ingredients, timing everything just right. But with every meal I make, a voice whispers in my mind: "You always cook horrible food." The taste of failure lingers in my mouth no matter how much I try. I’ve applied for part-time jobs, working late into the night, just to pay for my studies on my own. I refuse to "leech."

Somewhere, deep down, I know it’s too much. I know I’m running on fumes, that I’m losing myself in the chaos of trying to be perfect. But as long as I keep moving, keep achieving, maybe - just maybe it will fill the empty space he left behind.

 Chan doesn’t realise the weight of the situation until Friday rolls around. His phone vibrates in his hand, and the screen flashes with a notification from his manager.Jeongin knocks on his studio door, Chan barely registers the sound. "Come in," he murmurs, distracted, fingers gripping his phone. Jeongin opens the door.

"Hyung, the movie is about to start." Chan nods, getting up in understanding, but only then does he realise that it’s already Friday. How did the week slip away so fast? He sighs and gets up from his desk. For a brief moment, the weight of his responsibilities threatens to pull him under.

Chan walks out, phone in hand, takes a deep breath, attempting to mask the unease gnawing at him, and flings himself on the vacant seat. The lounge is filled by the members and their significant others. The usual sounds of laughter and conversation fill the air. Chan checks the messages from his manager asking for updates on their current project.

Manager Hyung

How far are you with the album?

20:30

The words hang in the air, sharp and cold. Chan feels a familiar rush of panic flood his chest, his stomach twisting. He freezes for a moment before a flashback hits him like a slap to the face. A few days ago, while Chan was at the company studio, he got called by his manager. "How far along are you with the new album's music?" The blood drained from Chan’s face. "Hyung...I've been so caught up with the other groups' new albums. I completely forgot." His voice tight, trying not to sound unprofessional.

While his manager reassures him with a "I'll see what I can do,” his voice calm yet frustrated. Chan apologises profusely, but the damage had already been done. Chan beats himself up. How could it slip my mind? I’m the leader. I was supposed to be reliable. It’s my responsibility to make sure stuff like this doesn’t happen.

Jeongin notices a shift in Chan’s demeanour, his usual upbeat energy dampened. Chan, who always wore his emotions on his sleeve, is now staring blankly at the screen, barely acknowledging the film playing before him. And to top it all off, I'm nowhere to be seen. In fact, he hasn’t heard from me in a while. Did something happen?

“Hyung, where’s Y/n?” Chan looks at Jeongin. “Right here…” The words die in his throat when he looks around the lounge to see that I was, in fact, not there. Not only does his mind go radio silent, but it begins to crash. The world around him fades, and all that remains is the crushing thought

What did I do?

His hand trembles slightly as he reaches for his phone, but his thoughts are clouded. Was it something he said? Something he didn’t say? He recalls the last few days, the argument, the coldness he’d thrown my way. He can't remember the exact moment it started unravelling, but now, in the pit of his stomach, the gnawing feeling is undeniable. Jeongin and now the other members begin growing concerned, “Hyung…?” Chan lets out a shaky breath. “I don’t know.”

Chan grabs his coat, running out the door – sending countless calls and messages to get through to me. He reaches my apartment.

My kitchen looked like a war zone. The air is thick with the smell of burnt food, and the sink is piled high with failed attempts. The timer rings, signalling the latest batch of cookies I’ve tried to perfect, but the results are disappointing, as they always are. I slide the tray out of the oven, a wave of frustration rising in my chest. I breathe heavily.

"Just one thing right. One thing," I mutter, eyes stinging with tears I refuse to shed. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, focusing on the next task, the next step in the routine that has become my life. But it’s not working. Nothing feels right. Nothing feels enough.

A crash from the kitchen interrupts my spiral. A bowl falls from the counter, shattering on the floor. I freeze, the sound of it reverberating in my mind. I feel like I’m breaking, just like the pieces of ceramic at my feet. It’s then that I hear the knock on the door. My heart skips a beat. I look at the camera on the wall. It’s Chan.

He looks dishevelled, with bags under his red eyes. I don’t want to answer. I can’t. But something inside me forces me to go. My fingers tremble as I reach for the door handle. When I open the door, Chan stands there, coat still on, his face filled with concern. His gaze softens as he takes me in—my apron messed with cookie dough and flour. My hair in a messy bun. I’m worn down. I’ve been fighting battles no one can see. "Y/n…"

I turn around and go to clean up the mess on the floor. I pick up the pieces of ceramic from the floor. He follows behind me. "Honey." I ignore him hastening my cleaning up. "Honey listen to me." he moves to clean the mess for me. I push his hand grabbing the pieces hurriedly not caring for the cuts that begin to decorate my palm. ''Can you not Chan?!"

He takes a deep breath stepping away. Eyes welled with tears. "You're hurting yourself." I roll my eyes dropping the pieces into the plastic bag. "Oh please, as if you care. Don't pretend." He moves closer to me. "I really didn't mean it. None of it."

I turn to him, "You know, I really want to believe you, Chan. To an extent, I do, because I know who you are. I know what type of person you are - both on and off camera. But your words broke something in me. Something I don’t know how to fix anymore. And it hurts. It’s something I would never, in a million years, have done to you - even at my lowest. I don’t know if this is something you can fix, Chan."

He sighs, dejected by my words. He walks toward me and gently takes my hands in his. He grabs a paper towel, dampening it, and begins cleaning up my cuts. His face tightens in concern as he frowns, then walks away to get the first aid box. He motions for me to sit on the barstool and begins sorting through my wounds.

Tears roll down his cheeks, but he doesn’t speak. When he’s finished bandaging my hands, I lift his chin gently. "You don’t have to beat yourself up," I say softly. He frowns, his voice barely a whisper. "I could say the same to you."I sigh, looking away for a moment, gathering the strength to speak. "I think we need a break—"

He interrupts me, his voice firm. "No." I hold his hand, squeezing it. "Yes, we do. You need to work through whatever’s going on with you, on your own. And I... I need therapy. I need time to heal. When we’re better... maybe then we can try and do this again."

He looks at me, eyes searching mine. After a moment, he adds quietly, "Can we at least still stay friends during that time? I want us to heal our bond as well." I nod. He opens his arms and engulfs me in a comforting hug. "It's all going to be okay." I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Yeah."

[goose-duck]

Cooking Catastrophe

Ronin Beaufort x Reader

Plot: boiling hot oil incident [injury comfort]

Warning: burns (Reader + Ronin affected)

Words: 1.6k

I was forced to work on my day off bc my schedule got abruptly changed, so I apologize if this is kinda not great, I'm extremely tired, but felt vaguely inspired lol

○●○●○●○●

Ronin was in the kitchen cooking up something that smelled delicious. You hadn't heard him get up, not from your place in the bedroom, snuggled up in his ash-scented blankets, long since stained into them from him smoking. He'd been on the couch watching TV, likely some report about him he thought was funny by the sounds of his earlier laughter, near cackling.

Ronin's always been an amazing cook. He keeps you fed with all your favourite foods, handmade by the devil himself. Gifted directly to his little writer darling. By the smell you figure he's working on something with fish, the smell is too distinct to be easily ignored.

Despite being able to make a very solid guess on what ingredients hes using, you evidentally don't know what hes making with said ingredients. So you push yourself up out of bed, and make your way put to the kitchen.

You walk right in, quietly, him noting you're there, but not where you're headed. He hums a soft hello to you, and you greet back with a similar noise. You make your way around the island in the kitchen, wanging to hug him from behind like he often does to you. However, when you get close he suddenly turns around and bumps right into you with the sizzling pan of food in his hand.

He's startled, jumping back slightly. You scream at the fast spreading buring sensation now felt down your chest, and over one arm. His arm is also not well eqainted with hot oil, but he puts his focus on you immediately. He sets the pan down, practically slamming it down on the counter, food be damned, turns the stove off, and goes straight to you to assess the damage.

You're shaking, tearing up, trying to apologize, and he just hushes you, “Baby- hey! No no. No apologizing. Fuck. How bad is it? Can you feel it? Does it hurt?”

You've never seen him like this before, panicked. Its strange. You would have expected him to try and joke, yet still help you, but all you're seeing in his eyes is fear, and guilt. Guilt. Something you weren't sure he could feel after all of his killing.

“Darlin’. Look at me.” He tilts your face up to look at him, “Tell me how bad it is. Talk to me.”

You get the words out through pitiful sobs, telling him it burns, its down your chest, on your arm, tell him his arm is burnt too as if he doesn't already know that. You try to focus on his arm, and he quickly puts the focus back on you.

“I'm gonna take your shirt off, okay, baby? Arms up f'me.” He tells you, knowing he needs to get those clothes off you before they mottle into your skin.

You comply, not fully understanding what's going on anymore, just in pain, the world a blurry mess of fire, and the man you trust most giving you instructions in an uncharacteristically panicked tone.

He quickly lifts your shirt, and any other upper body garments you may have on off of you. He throws the clothes on the counter, not caring if they actually make it there, or find a new home on the floor.

He immediately goes to your chest checking the damage, giving you a quick look before begging to poke around, asking you what hurts the most. You can't really tell him. Its everything pretty much. So he backs off, and grabs a hand towel. He puts lukewarm water on it, pressing it against your wounds, hoping it'll help. He can't even remember the proper temperature to use on burns.

He's not felt this way in years–like he might actually lose someone. Its been so long, the feeling is one he doesn't know what to do with. The burns, they hurt, so they can't be third degree, but they arent good either. Your skin isn't just red, but molting. Its a horrible sight.

Ronin can't even be bothered with his own arm. Its fine. Hes done worse to himself. Hes not letting you get hurt like that though. For how much fun he has poking fun at you, and threatening you, he doesn't actually want you hurt. Especially not because of him. Not without your permission of course.

He can feel tears welling in his eyes as he sees you stating to get dizzy from it all. This only shoots more panic through his veins, adrenaline pumping fast. He grabs you as gently as he can, setting you on the counter near where your oil covered clothes lay. He shoves the clothes off the counter.

“Baby- please stay. Please- im- fuck I'm sorry, baby.” He holds your face, looking you in your eyes and pleading as your vision blurs, “I'll fix it, darling. I'll fix it.” He kisses your nose, and rushes off to find the first aid kit.

Eventually he gets you all patched up, getting some painkiller, and water in you. He lifts you gently off the counter, and into his protective arms. Hushing you, and kissing you softly, taking you back into the bedroom, apologies, ones he'd never give to his victims, falling from his lips for you.

His heart is aching with guilt as he lays you down on the bed, almost hesitant to join you before you give him a soft smile, and assure him its okay. He sighs, sitting down beside you, and leaning over you. He looks down at your bandages, chest, arm, hand, then back at your face.

“I love you, baby. Don't scare me like that again.” He teases slightly, trying ro being back his usual devil character.

You snicker in return, tugging on his sleeve, and inquiring into his arm's well-being. He just give you a smirk, proclaiming hes the devil, and can handle a little heat. You glare at him, and he sighs, conceding he should go take care of his wounds. He doesn't want to leave you alone though, so you kick him, and tell him you won't die while hes gone.

He gives you a playful glare, sticking his tongue out, piercing glinting in the sunlight coming in through the curtains, before leaving to handle his burns, yelling one last thing, “Better not die on me, darlin'! Its my job to kill ya the right way!”

You snicker to yourself, trying to get comfortable on the bed. Every light touch to the burns sends a shock of pain through your body, you almost think you should go to the hospital, but Ronin seemed hesitant on the idea, so you decided against it.

Your brain is still a bit foggy, and lost, but you're starting to get your sense of what's going on back. You can feel the burning the whole way through your chest despite it being surface layer. You can feel in in your throat, in the way you breath, the way your heart beats. Its a miserable feeling, even as the painkiller start to kick in you can still feel the tightness.

You look at your hand, and the attached arm. Bandaged up all nicely too. Ronin put so much care into every step of the process, you're sure its from the guilt of having personally done it. Its not his fault, not yours either, but you know he'll hold onto it anyway. He always does.

He always makes up for it too, even when its not necessary. You already know the next few days he'll be babying the hell out of you. Last time something like this happened that's what he'd done. You couldn't even pull out his usual sardonic behaviour, he was just so focused in on you being hurt at his hands, with no good reason for it.

He finally returns, his arms bandaged sloppily. You give him a disappointed look, but he ignores it. You try to tell him to wrap his burns better, but he tells you he fine, like he always does. Always claims its not taht serious even when you can see the pain burning behind his eyes.

Ronin lays on the bed with you, not quite touching you, but close. You look over at him, sticking your tongue out like he had earlier, hoping to bring back his playful aditude. You, however, are met with a soft sigh, and a sad smile. Not quite pity, more so concern.

“Rest for me, baby? Please? The butcher will be here to protect ya… even from himself.” He whispers softly, pressing his mouth against your cheek, kissing you softly.

You relax, accepting this will be your fate for the next few days. A softer Ronin, trying to care for you. You won't tell him to go back to acting like himself, but admittedly, once he gets back to his usual behaviour, while still taking care of you, that's when you really feel safe with him. When you have all of him.

All those esoteric words, those criminally bad jokes, his teasing, yet still sweetend with his care? That's him. That's Ronin. Your sweet serial killer. And you feel at home with him. Even when hes deliberately trying to unsettled you to get a rise out of you.

You agree to rest, as long as he agrees to join you. He obliges easily, moving just a bit closer, but hesitating to touch you with such wide spread burns.

You initiate the contact this time, grabbing his hand, holding it gently in your own. Squeezing lightly, and mumbling ‘i love you’ half into the pillows. He squeezes your hand back, returning the soft words, then pressing another quick kiss to your face, then demanding you actually rest now. You giggle, but close your eyes, happy to have him here with you.

[callsign-rogueone]

rest

Brennan Sorrengail x chronically ill reader words: 2.5k 🏷: gender neutral reader, use of nicknames sweetheart and honey, implied past FWB-type relationship between reader and Bren. descriptions of pain and sickness (congrats, u now have my symptoms), downward-spiral of self-deprecating thoughts, reader shaming themself for being weak / ill, one (1) suggestion that reader wants to die but they don’t mean it, confessions of love, cuddles.  this may be the most self-serving thing I’ve ever written. I wrote it to process my grief and anger about my current situation, but I figured I’d post it for the Brennan girlies and anyone who feels like I do right now and could use a handsome mender boyfriend to make it all better.

The gentle movement of the mattress and the smell of smoke and soap and leather wakes you from your nap — Brennan is back. You roll over to face him, every muscle in your body protesting the movement. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” he whispers, brushing the hair from your forehead with gentle fingers. “How are you feeling?”

“Same old,” you murmur. 

He lays a hand on your forearm, and the pain dulls. You know better now than to let him block it off completely — he’d done that once before, but when he let go, it was unbearable. 

Better to sit with it, not get used to any relief — it’ll only hurt you further when it all comes back, knock the breath right from your lungs and leave you in a heap on the floor, a mess of knots for him to untangle.

He’s done enough for you already. He does enough for everyone. Never anything for himself. Or if he does, you never see it.

“Was worried about you,” he says softly, still stroking your hair.

The idea of him worrying about you makes you feel sicker than you already are, but a different kind of sick. Guilty, maybe. Disgusted — not with him, but with yourself, for being so fucking weak and needy and such a crybaby. You’re a dragon rider, for gods’ sakes. 

Or you used to be. You haven’t acted like one in months, and haven’t felt like one for longer than that. 

You’d accepted that you’d never fly again, or told yourself that you accepted it, three months ago.

“I can keep fixing the damage, but I don’t know if I can fix what’s causing it,” Brennan had told you in a whisper late one night in this same room, holding you as if he was afraid to let go, that you’d crack and splinter even further if he wasn’t pressing the pieces of you together. 

You used to be able to hold yourself together. You used to be able to do a lot of things. To spar with him, to run with your squad and mount a dragon, swim in the ice-cold streams of Tyrrendor with your friends on days off, to spend hours tangled up in bed with him after lights-out, exerting yourselves in other ways.

But then something came and ruined it all.  You still don’t know what it was — is. It didn’t come quickly — not one big wave that drowned you, not an assailant that shattered bone and sliced through tissue, but a gradual decline that you didn’t notice until it was too late. 

No, you definitely noticed. You just didn’t want to believe it. You made up excuses for everything— reassurances, placating remarks, designed to convince yourself and those around you that there wasn’t anything wrong with you.

You couldn’t sleep through the night, but that was because of the awful things you’d seen that day. But then they started happening even if you hadn’t left the barracks, even if you hadn’t witnessed any horrible sights in weeks.

You couldn’t hold on to your daggers tightly enough, struggled to grip a pen, but that was because you’d injured your hand — but that was only one hand, and months ago. Brennan had mended it for you within minutes of the injury.

Your entire body was aching, all the time, but that was normal with how much riders were required to exert themselves. You just can’t move like you did when you were younger. You aren’t a kid anymore.

But no amount of rest days, no ice or heat or elevation seemed to be enough to recover. That’s the worst of it, really. Being stuck in bed, not by doctor’s orders, not because you physically can’t get up, but because you can’t do anything outside of this room.

Not without pain, anyway, and not without pitying looks and whispered questions about what happened to you — the very same Captain that had rescued an entire squad from certain doom just last year, the most powerful air-wielder in two generations — and concerned words from your colleagues, who miss you, and tell them if you need anything, okay? They’re here for you.

But are they really your colleagues anymore? Is Deòir really your dragon anymore? He hardly speaks to you these days. He’s just too kind to admit that he’s just waiting for you to die, so he can move on, and find a new rider.

Maybe kind isn’t the right word, but you can’t think of a better one right now. It’s hard to think of anything other than how tired and uncomfortable you are.

You used to be top of the class, and now you’re struggling to form complete sentences.

“Talk to me,” Brennan coaxes, still gazing down at you, softness in his eyes.

“You don’t have to keep doing this,” you whisper. 

“What?”

“I know we were… involved for a while,” you say carefully, “but you don’t need to do this for me anymore. You can’t keep worrying about me. It takes up too much time that you just don’t have. You’re running a revolution; you have more important shit to do than to play nurse.”

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “Where’s this coming from?” he asks softly. “What happened while I was away?”

“Nothing happened, Brennan. Nothing ever happens in my life anymore, because I spend my entire day, every day, laying here, wishing I was dead.”

You cover your mouth with your hand, but it’s too late. The words are out in the air, and he’s heard them. “I didn’t mean…” you whisper, “I don’t want to die, I just…”

Tears fill your already-blurred vision, but you can see him in front of you, the mass of his chest and shoulders, the slow movement of his arms reaching out to wrap around you and hold you close, to guide you up into his lap.

“I’m just so tired,” you sob, too-long fingernails digging into the black leather of his jacket, your hands too weak to hold on to him properly. “I’m so tired of being tired, and in pain, and feeling useless.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he soothes. “I’ll keep looking. We can look together. We’ll figure out what this is, and how to fix it.”

“We’ve read every book in the library,” you sniff. “We’ve talked to every healer we know.”

“There are other libraries, and other healers,” he replies, as if it’s that simple, that easy. You suppose to him, it is that easy. To him, everything is easy. He’s not the one wasting away here, you are.

Wasting away. Crumbling. Deteriorating.  

Decaying.

“Why aren’t you giving up?” you ask quietly. “I’ve given up. Deò has, too. He hasn’t spoken to me in days.”

You know the answer, and it makes you feel sick, but you need to hear it.

Maybe that’s selfish of you, to make him declare it out loud to you, to your face, when you very well might not be alive this time next year to celebrate an anniversary — not that you’d be able to do much celebrating if you were. But that little part of you, the only part that’s left of the old you, from the reality where this could work, needs it — needs him. 

“Deò hasn’t given up on you. He went with us, as backup — that’s why he wasn’t responding. And I haven’t given up, either. I’ll never give up, because I love you,” he whispers. “I’ve loved you for years, and I’ll keep loving you as long as I live, and well into whatever afterlife I earn, if such a thing exists.”

You loose another sob, your nails scraping the leather as you cling to him tighter, your anchor in this storm, your lifeline, hiding your face in his neck and letting three months worth of tears continue to fall. 

“I’m not going to let go,” he soothes, laying a hand over yours, that’s still feebly clutching at the sleeve of his jacket. “Not until you ask me to.”

You release your grip, the ache lessening as you do, but your knuckles still throb with every beat of your heart; another reminder that even just existing is painful, that your body can’t even move blood around without complaint.

“There you go. Just breathe with me, honey. Nice and slow.”

You don’t know how long you spend there, trying to steady your breathing. Time has seemed to run together lately, somehow both fast and slow — that happens when you lose your routine, and spend half of a normal person’s waking hours asleep, and normal sleeping hours lying awake, enveloped in pain. He continues to murmur praises to you all the while; sweet, reassuring words that you don’t really process. 

“Do you want to lay down?” he asks after a while, his voice soft and gentle. 

He’s always so gentle with you. Endlessly patient, and endlessly caring.

You nod, thoroughly exhausted— the crying had zapped any energy you’d had left. You feel like a little kid again, soft and confused and small. 

Fragile. 

You’re still in your pajamas, anyway, still in bed. You’d only gotten out of it once today, to use the bathroom, but you’d forced yourself to brush your teeth while you were in there, leaning on the counter for stability all the while. That’s your idea of success and productivity these days.

“Okay. Let me take my boots off, hm?” — You nod, pulling back to let him get up. — “Alright. Can I get you anything? Water?”

You shake your head. “Just you,” you whisper. 

“I can do that.” Jacket, boots, and pants off, he settles in with you, letting you cozy up to him in a position that feels the most comfortable— or the least uncomfortable, really. He starts stroking your hair again in soft, slow motions, the weight and warmth of his scarred palm soothing your headache.

It occurs to you that you’d never responded to his declaration — the one you’d needed so badly that you’d nearly asked for it outright — you’d just clung to him and cried, and he’d held you, even though you hadn’t said it back. He’d stroked your hair and calmed you down from your grief over the life you no longer have and can never return to.

He’s still holding you, still dulling the pain in your body and in your soul.

“I love you, Bren,” you murmur. “M’sorry I didn’t say it earlier.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve known for a long time.”

“Really?”

He hums softly. “Oh, yeah. Years and years. Since you nearly broke my jaw in challenges and then insisted on personally escorting me to the infirmary.”

You laugh at the memory. “I felt so guilty about that. I didn’t want to hurt you at all. I was pulling my punches.”

It’s his turn to laugh. “It certainly didn’t feel like it.”

There’s a soft pause before he speaks again, hesitant, like he doesn’t want to bring it up again now that your tears have dried, but he knows you haven’t forgotten the pain. You’ll never forget this pain for the rest of your life, even if it goes away.

“When I was in Poromiel, I talked to a healer there who‘s seen something like this before. She wrote down as much as she could before I left, and she promised to ask around and send more information through the boys when they do their next drop-off.”

You cuddle into him closer, ignoring the ache in your back as you do. “Thank you, Bren. I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. I guess… I’m just still not used to being taken care of. I know it’s dumb, but it makes me feel worse sometimes, even though it’s helping.”

“That’s how I felt,” he says quietly. You both know what he’s talking about— his recovery from being shot in the battle of Aretia, from dying and being brought back to life. “It was always me taking care of the girls when we were young. I was never the one who needed taking care of. It felt wrong, and I felt guilty, and mad at myself for needing the help. But you wouldn’t take no for an answer. You made an excellent nurse, if a little scary.”

“I was scared myself. Seeing you like that…” You swallow. “That’s when I knew that I loved you — you don’t know what you have ‘til it’s gone, I guess.”

“I am very much not gone,” he scoffs, offended. 

“Fine. Slipping away from you,” you correct. 

“Not doing that either. I’m staying right here.” He lays a kiss on the top of your head. “And we are going to have a nice long nap, and then I’m going to draw you a warm bath and make us some dinner, because I like taking care of you, because I love you, and because you deserve it. Okay?”

“Okay.” Another pause while you work up the courage. “Bren?” you ask softly.

“Yes, my love?”

The sweet name is enough encouragement to say it. “Can I kiss you?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He holds you in place with a gentle hand on your back, leaning his head down to meet you. You tilt your chin up, your noses brushing.

“This feels familiar,” he muses. “Very familiar.”

You roll your eyes lazily. “If you’re going to be all smug about it, then you don’t get a kiss.”

“Well, we can’t have that.”

You rest a hand on his jaw, guiding him closer. Your fingers twitch and shake, but he holds them steady, his hand pressing yours against the stubbled skin gently — a silent statement that he’s not going anywhere, and he’s ready when you are.

Endlessly patient.

The kiss isn’t desperate and hungry like they had been before your affliction had started, when surges of need and emotion had led you into each other’s beds two nights a week — you aren’t taking from each other now, you’re giving. It’s gentle. Sweet, loving, reassuring.

Each soft movement is a promise, a whispered oath — he’s here, and he isn’t leaving. He’s determined to figure this out and fix it, with you.

You don’t need anything more than that.

He takes your hand, moving it from his jaw to his mouth — kissing your palm. “I love you,” he repeats, pressing his lips to your knuckles. “You’re important to me,” again, to the back of your hand, “and we will get you the help you need. But for now we both just need to rest.”

“Thank you.”

“Always,” he responds, helping you tuck yourself back into his arms, and pulling the blanket up over you both. 

“Goodnight, child,” Deò says softly. “I love you. We will get through this together.”

You’re a little surprised by the declaration — he’s never told you anything like this before — but you return it nonetheless. “Love y’too,” you murmur.

Sleep comes to you easily, and this time, you have a good dream.

[torturedtypewritersdept]

proclivity - part three - true blue

✯ pairing:

ex!bff!rafe cameron x diabetic!kook!fem!reader

✯ summary:

at one point in time rafe was your best friend. can summer romance erase all the damage he's done?

✯ [4.1k] warnings:

mature themes, mentions of anxiety, nostalgia, heartbreak, diabetes lingo, injury, ghosting, fluff and fear, domestic violence (not rafe), mean!ex!jj etc.

✯ a/n:

nothing!! please don't engage if you have a hard time with any of these topics <3 this was origianlly posted on my old blog @/illicitfixations, @/lovelornanonymity and i have rewritten + reshared it here :) trying out a new format with this post, hope you like it!

You didn’t want to – really you didn’t. The idea of you and Rafe being alone at a spot – your spot – a place, the place, that you hadn’t shared in close to two years was suffocating to say the least. You have continuously pressed replay on all the world’s worst scenarios; all the things that could go horribly wrong, that would surely break your heart into a million pieces all over again. Your feet feel clucky as they trudge through the sand and like the water that meets the land on the other side, you feel rushed into you; like the waves of a tsunami are crashing against the wall you’ve placed around your heart, the barriers are so close to breaking and they do as soon as you see him. He’s sitting, just past a sand dune, his shirt has been discarded and his hair is wet. 

“Hey, hot shot – you've been swimming without me?” 

You ask with a forced cheek. He only responds with his signature smirk. It was quiet, awkward for a moment. You couldn’t help but feel like you were being punked as you sat down beside him, his feet digging holes in the sand. You couldn’t remember the last time the notion of him being this close had crossed your mind or even seemed within reach. Which probed your next question to the boy sitting next to you. 

“Rafe.”

“Yeah?”

He questioned, with a smile on his face. 

“Can you tell me now?” 

You asked anxiously, ready for the blow of what you knew was coming – he was going to tell you why he left and you were sure that it was because of you after all. That’s the only thing that made sense in your brain. You watch him anxiously, intently as he shuffles, bringing his hand up to his hair to swoop his long locks out of his face and behind his ears. 

“Yeah, I guess I owe you that don’t I, pretty girl?” 

You’re on edge as you hear your old namesake leave his lips. He moves his hands behind him, leaning back into the sand. His skin feels hot against it, he notes. He swallows thickly and opens his mouth to speak. 

“You know I was different after my mom died, right?” 

You’re taken aback by his question – of course you know. She was the fucking sun and he’s just fucking like her; his cheeks and eyes – they belong to her. He belonged to her and it physically pains you to see him lose it after she’s passed away. You remember it all but mostly the way the bright left the blue hue of his eyes in the same moment the breath left her body. It makes your bones hurt to think about it still. 

“Yeah – how could I forget? I was too, we all were.” 

You said quickly. 

“I kept it well hidden then – until I couldn’t anymore, until I didn’t have a choice.” 

He’d replayed how he was going to tell you in his head over and over, over the last two years and finally came to the conclusion that he never ever would. But, now – at the prospect of having you within his reach again, he’s sure he’s going to spill his guts any moment. 

“Can you spit it out, drama queen?” 

You said with annoyance. So he blurted it out – rather frantically. 

“I was on drugs, okay!” 

He shouted. There was silence for a moment, you – too shell shocked to reply. 

“Look – I know you’re perfect and you’ve never done anything wrong in your life, okay? I’m sorry.” 

His eyes go dull as he braces himself for your judgemental glare. 

“What?” 

You ask in a too small voice. He doesn’t know what to say, so he stays quiet for a moment. 

“I was on drugs. Nobody knew. Then, I owed Barry a massive amount of money and he knew I loved you more than anyone, alright? So I had to cut ties.” 

He said very matter-of-factly. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You whispered and the ocean breeze made him suddenly cold, or maybe your tone of voice sent a chill up his spine. He’s truly not sure which. 

“What do you have to be sorry about, y/n?” 

He asked confusedly. 

“Not being enough – not being good enough for you to come to me and tell me the truth, that you didn’t feel like you could come to me.” 

The crack in your voice as you finished talking cut him straight to his core.     

“Pretty girl, it’s not like that, okay? I was trying to protect you.” 

Again, there was silence for a little while before either of you spoke. Rafe was trying to find the words; the ones to make you understand that you weren’t to blame. 

“You’re not messing with me, right?”

You asked suddenly. 

“What do you mean?” 

He questioned, confusedly. 

“I mean, you actually want to be near me again? You’re not messing with me?” 

You asked innocently, feeling far too insecure for his answer to be anything other than yes. 

“Of course, I want to be near you. I never wanted to stop being near you. It was just easier to cut everyone out than to explain my pain to someone else. I didn’t want to face all the disappointment either.” 

You swallowed thickly and he noticed. 

“I’m sorry. I always just assumed it was me, that I had done something.” 

You whispered, almost inaudibly. But, he heard you, loud and clear. 

“What? What could you possibly have done?” 

He asked incredulously. 

“I-I don’t know.” 

You looked down at your feet, afraid of what he was going to say next, not wanting this intimacy with him to become foreign and far off again. He gently lifted your chin so your eyes could meet his. 

“You never did anything wrong and this is not a game. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” 

He reassured you gently. 

“I appreciate you reassuring me, but it’s going to take a lot more than words for me to trust you again and I think you know that.” 

You replied, giving him the kindest smile you could muster up. It wasn’t your intention to be rude or mean to him, you just needed him to know where you stood. 

“I know. I’m sorry that I broke your trust, but I hope you know I’m going to spend every day trying to make things right between us.” 

“Okay, Cameron.”

You smiled nudging his shoulder. You made your way back to the parking lot with Rafe, not long after the conversation fizzled out. 

“Well, I think I’m gonna head home. This was fun.” 

You said with a sweet smile. 

“Let me drive you, I know you walked, you always walk here.”  

Rafe spoke, excitement in his voice. 

“Okay.” 

You agreed to his idea, smiling kindly his way, following him to the truck you had made your home ever since he had gotten his license. He was the first of the two of you to be able to drive and you had taken full advantage of that, waiting for him after football practices and in the early morning so he could cart you everywhere you needed to go. That was the first thing you missed when he had left you - the intimate car rides, where you experienced a version of Rafe that no one else got to. He opened the door for you, ushering you into the passenger seat and closing it once he made sure you were inside and comfortable. Making his way around to the driver’s side, he took his keys out of his pocket and climbed in, starting the truck. The engine roared, sending vibrations through your spine. It felt euphoric to be here, alone with him. Which was something you had dreamed about for so long. He pulled out of the beach parking lot, hands steady on the wheel, and began the trek to his neighborhood. Tannyhill had become your second home over the years, whether it was play dates with Rafe when you were six or trying on clothes with Sarah when you were fifteen, the Camerons were your family and you were thankful that your favorite one was seated next to you, a backward baseball cap sitting on his head and strong arms fixed on the wheel. You’d never get over the view. 

“Y/N?”

He spoke your name with a question in mind. 

“Yeah?”

You smiled in his direction. 

“Would you wanna come to dinner tomorrow at Tannyhill?”

He asked gently. 

“Sure, you know I never pass up Rose’s cooking! What’s the occasion?” 

You questioned with a giggle, it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

“Just having you back, I guess.” 

He smiled sheepishly. 

“That’s sweet, Rafe.” 

You spoke softly, the blush coating your freckled cheeks. 

“Your parents are going to be there, so I figured you could just join them and we can have a big family dinner.” 

“Why are my parents going to be there?”

You questioned, confused at his comment. 

“Uh, Ward said he and your dad are working on some big business project or something.” 

He replied, not really knowing the answer to what you were asking. He had no idea what the two men were up to. 

“Ah, okay. Sure, Rafe, I’d love to come. How fancy do I have to dress, 1-10 on the fancy scale?” 

The laugh that escaped his lungs was boisterous. You and Rafe had created the fancy scale after you got bitched out by your dad’s for not dressing appropriately for Midsummer’s in the eighth grade and ever since you always warned each other of the fancy level parties or dinners would be. 

“A solid 5.” 

He retorted a laugh ever-present on his lips. He forgot how much you made him laugh and how good it felt. He was brought out of his thoughts as he pulled into the driveway, spotting your car sitting right next to your dad’s. 

“This has been fun! I missed you.” 

You spoke softly and a smile danced across Rafe’s features. 

“I missed you too, Y/N.” 

Your eyes studied his face, looking for any inkling of deception. There were none, at least not that you could see. His eyes met yours, locking in on your face and not looking away. You swallowed thickly, unsure of what to do. Having his full attention was not something you were used to anymore. 

“Thank you, Rafe. I seriously had a really good time tonight. We will do a movie night soon.” 

“Of course, you’re still my favorite girl.” 

He smiled kindly, ushering you over to your front door, lingering for moments longer than he should have, but not wanting to let you out of your sight. 

- 

Your phone rang early the next morning and as you groaned loudly, willing whoever was making your phone ring at 7 am to die, you read the contact. It was Topper. Your sluggish fingers slowly but surely slid across the screen to see what in God’s name your best friend wanted this early. 

“H-hello?”

You grumbled. 

“Wake your ass up!” 

Topper yelled into the phone. 

“T-top. I’m about three seconds from killing you. Why are you screaming into my phone so early?” 

You questioned with annoyance. 

“Get up and get dressed. We’re outside your house.” 

He said plainly. 

“Who’s we? And for what? It’s fucking 7 am?!” 

“Don’t be grumpy, princess. We just want to spend the day with your sexy little self.” 

Kelce interjected. 

“Kelce, please shut up. I’m not awake enough for your bullshit attempts at flirting with me.” 

You grumbled with a sneer behind that phone that he couldn’t see. 

“Damn, you’re a spitfire today!” 

Topper exclaimed, laughing. 

“I was up late, okay? Jesus Christ.” 

You couldn’t believe he was being so mean to you this early in the day. 

“Okay, well get up, get dressed and pack insulin and some snacks. We’re going to be gone all day.” 

He replied. 

“Top, I can’t. I have this dinner with Rafe tonight, I can’t be gone all day.” 

You were nervous to be saying anything to Topper about it at all, he knew your history with Rafe better than anyone. But, you knew you had to tell him the truth. 

“Listen, idiot, Rafe is with us. So, come on. We’ll have you both back at Tannyhill in time for your dinner, so either pack a dress or wear one. You’re not missing this.” 

You rolled your eyes, but your heart leapt at hearing you were going to spend the day with Rafe by your side whether it was in a group setting or not. 

“Fine, I’m coming, Topper! Jesus.” 

You said, feigning annoyance. 

“Told you she’s not a morning person.”

Rafe interjected, giggling. 

You grinned to yourself, realizing you were going to get to spend an entire day and night with Rafe. Scurrying out of bed, you searched through your closet in a hurry and settled on wearing a baby blue sundress with white polka dots that Rafe got you for your birthday the summer before you started high school. He always said that baby blue was your color. You slid it on quickly, pairing it with white platform sneakers and some dainty gold jewelry. You fluffed your hair and quickly packed your insulin after changing your insulin pump site and choosing a new area of your stomach to plunge the needle into. You ran through the kitchen, grabbing a few snacks and some juice to throw in your bag. Before walking out the door to Topper’s jeep, you stopped, took a breath, and smoothed your dress and hair before stepping out of the house and opening the back passenger door, hopping in, to be met with a very tired Rafe Cameron. 

“Hey, sweet cheeks! Are you done being an asshole? I need my morning kiss.” 

Kelce gave you a sly smirk and Rafe chuckled to himself, knowing pushing your buttons this early was not a good idea. 

“Kelceo, Fuck off!” 

You exclaimed with a growl, letting him know you weren’t in the mood. 

“Fine, I’ll chill. Can you blame me? Look at that dress.” 

He continued his train of putting his foot in his mouth. 

“Kelce, cool it, man.” 

Rafe spoke, his tone laced with warning. His protective nature made you smile. 

“So, what’s so important that you drug me out of bed at 7 am on a Saturday?” 

You questioned Topper. 

“My mom set us up on a tour of UNC like months ago and I forgot to tell you until this morning.” 

He replied nonchalantly, as if it wasn’t absolutely unhinged to let you know the morning of – in a way that only Topper knows how. 

“Topper, I’m going to kill you.” 

You muttered. You truly couldn’t think of a better way to spend a Saturday, your three favorite boys, and a four-hour-long road trip. Truthfully, what could go wrong? 

You were brought out of your thoughts by Rafe’s hand touching your elbow. 

“Y/N?”

He was saying your name in question again. 

“Sorry, I was zoned out. What’s up?” 

You asked. 

“Have you eaten yet?” 

He asked in a gentle, hushed tone not wanting to draw everyone's attention to the two of you. 

“No.” 

You replied just as quietly. 

“Go ahead and eat, okay? I read that being up on your feet all day can be hard on your body.” 

You were shell shocked for just a second – he cared enough to read about what your life is like?

“You’ve been reading about diabetes?”

You questioned. 

“Of course I have, you’re my favorite girl.” 

He said it again. 

“Thanks, Rafe. That’s so sweet.” 

He smiled in response and watched as you took the banana out of your bag and began to eat it. When you finished, Topper was pulling into a gas station and asked you to come in with him to pick out some snacks while Rafe and Kelce pumped gas. As you made your way inside, rummaging through the aisles of various snacks, Topper began the inevitable best friend questioning that you knew was bound to happen eventually. 

“So, you and Cameron, huh?”

He teased, knowing your history of being in love with him since you were six. 

“I don’t think he feels that way. I’m just happy to have him back.” 

You gave Topper a kind smile. 

“So, what happened? I mean was there a conversation? Did he at least apologize?” 

“Yeah, Top. He did.” 

You said, matter-of-factly. 

“Y/N, if you don’t tell me everything right now, I’m going to fucking combust.” 

He said with urgency as he giggled. 

“Okay, okay. Jesus! So, we met up at our spot the day after the party and he told me the truth. I have a feeling that it’s not all of it, but he seemed genuine and i’m assuming it’ll all come out in layers over time.” 

“Why do you say that?” 

He questioned with curiosity. 

“Because it seemed like there was more to the story, more to tell. I got a very shrunken down version.” 

You replied.

“Well, if you need me to beat his ass I will. You just let me know.” 

He spoke with a devilish smirk that you knew meant he was both serious and joking. 

“Thanks, Top.” 

You laughed. 

“Of course, you know I always have your back.” 

He replied, snaking an arm around your shoulders. 

“Anyways, so we talked about the drugs and why he felt like he couldn’t talk to me, and then he told me he was sorry and he wanted to be friends again. He drove me home and asked me to come to dinner tonight at Tannyhill. I said, yes, so here we are. Oh, and I told him about me being sick at the party-”

“You did what?!” 

You were cut off with an incredulous question and raised eyebrows from Topper. 

“Yeah, I told him a little about getting sick when we ended things and he didn’t even run like I thought he would.” 

You said with a soft, sweet smile. Topper couldn’t remember the last time he had seen you smile like that. 

“I told you he wouldn’t. He loves you.” 

He replied easily, the truth of the words flew out of his mouth so effortlessly. 

“Yeah, we’ll see. I’m not 100% on board yet. I don’t want to get my hopes up and then he runs away again.” 

Topper shrugged, he couldn’t disagree with your reservations after the last couple years you’d had. You’d been through so much. All he wanted was to see you happy and he knew if the timing was right Rafe would treat you so well. He’d truly changed. 

“That’s understandable and valid. Just don’t write him off yet. He might surprise you.” 

He said with an easy smile. 

“Thanks, Top.” 

The two of you shared a hug after exiting the convenience store, with snacks in hand. As you made your way back to the jeep, Rafe admired your form, watching the wind raking through the skirt of your dress. 

“Welcome back, pretty girl. Are you ready for our morning kiss, yet?” 

Kelce asked again, sweetly this time. He was starting to get on your nerves. 

“Kelceo, cool it.” 

Topper stated, climbing into the driver's seat. Kelce was annoying everyone today, kidding or not. 

You climbed into the backseat again, plopping down next to Rafe. His sparkling blue eyes took in your smiling form as you tore into a bag of popcorn. 

“How are you feeling, sweet girl?” 

Rafe questioned, studying your form with his piercing blue eyes. Sweet girl. You hadn’t heard that in a long time and it felt warm against your ears.

“I’m feeling pretty good right now. But, my sugar is low.” 

You smiled in his direction. 

“How do you know it’s low?” 

He asked with genuine curiosity. 

“I have this app on my phone, see.” 

You turned your phone screen around, which displayed your glucose monitor’s readings. Your blood sugar was low, reading 76 mg/dL. Which was not low enough to warrant panic, but also not high enough to be considered normal.  

“So, if 76 is low, what’s considered normal?” 

Rafe probed in a genuinely curious fashion.

“Generally, the goal is to keep the daytime blood sugar levels before meals between 80 and 130 mg. But, after-meal numbers are a little bit higher but shouldn’t be more than 180 mg.” 

You explained simply. 

“Oh, okay. That makes sense. Will you tell me if you start to feel bad?” 

He questioned. It made you smile that you seemed to be falling back into your rhythm so easily. 

“I won’t have to. You’ll know. But, I promise I will.” 

You gave him a reassuring smile and grabbed his hand, squeezing it. The touch, though short-lived, was electric and you wondered if he felt it too. The music topper was playing lulled you to sleep all of thirty minutes into the road trip and you were beginning to stir as soon as he pulled into the UNC visitor’s parking lot.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.” 

Rafe ran his fingers through your hair, scratching it in a circular motion. Your favorite way to wake up. When you opened your eyes, you jolted up, embarrassed, realizing your head was on Rafe’s shoulder and drool was pooling at the corner of your mouth, dripping onto the gray t-shirt he was wearing. You turned your head towards him with apologetic eyes as you took in his face, the sweet disposition oozing out of him, as his eyes smiled at you before his mouth did. 

“I’m sorry I drooled on you.”

You spoke sheepishly. 

“Hey, it’s okay. Not the first time, definitely won’t be the last.” 

He chuckled, giving you his classic Rafe Cameron smile before getting out of Topper’s jeep and making his way to the passenger side to open yours for you. As you began to climb out of the car, he picked up your bag, carrying it for you. 

“Thanks, Rafe. You don’t have to carry it, though.”

You said, beaming up at him. 

“You look so pretty today, I think I’d do anything you asked of me.” 

He blurted out without thinking and your eyes went wide as your cheeks filled with a blush. 

“You are so sweet, Rafe. Thank you.” 

He nodded and smiled your way, yet again. 

“I’ll carry it. It will make me feel better if you have a glucose emergency if I know where it is.” 

He stated, matter-of-factly, as he placed the brown leather backpack on his shoulder. His words created a flutter in your stomach. 

“Okay, losers! Come on, we gotta check-in at the visitor’s center.” 

Topper remarked. You and Rafe began following him and Kelce to the front of the building. Topper quickly went inside and left the three of you waiting on the steps as he went to collect your program information, campus maps, and name tags. When he came back out of the door, he handed each of you your designated packets of information and began explaining what the game plan was. 

“Okay, so in each of these packets is information specific to your major. Y/N and Rafe, you’re in a group and then me and Kelce are in a group because our majors and buildings are on the same sides of campus. Go through the packet, it’s got a scavenger hunt and then instructions for meeting the bigger tour group after lunch. We will see you guys then.” 

He finished what he was saying and Rafe was already moving, ready to get away from Topper and Kelce and celebrate his alone time with you. 

“Okay, sounds good.” 

Rafe spoke, taking the packet of information from Topper’s hands, and turning to you with a smile. 

“You ready?” 

He questioned with a smile. 

“As I'll ever be, lead the way, Cameron.” 

You gestured to the sidewalk in front of you, beaming up at his tall form, opting to go the opposite direction of Kelce and Topper. 

Topper and Kelce quickly scurried off, putting you and Rafe alone again, finally. You love the other two stooges with every fiber of your being, but you’d always loved Rafe more. If soulmates were a thing, he was yours in a platonic way of course, because there’s no way he felt about you the way you felt about him. You were okay with that. Rafe in any way, shape, or form was enough for you, as long as you had him in some way, you’d be okay. As Rafe began talking to you, you were brought out of your daydream. 

“So, what do you want to hit first, the football field?” 

He asked sarcasm present in his tone, though playful and innocent. 

“Sure, if you’re gonna be playing here, we should check it out first.” 

You gave him a small smile. 

“Are you thinking about coming here in all seriousness?” 

“Yeah, I was offered a full scholarship for cheer and academics pending my final grades next year.” 

“What?! That’s amazing, Y/N!” 

“Thanks, Rafe. I wish my brother thought so.” 

“What do you mean? Hasn’t he wanted you to go to UNC like forever?” 

He asked, confusion ever-present in his voice. 

“I mean, yeah. He’s just been different ever since I got sick.” 

“What do you mean?”

He questioned. 

“It’s like most of the time, I’m a bug he’s trying to swat away.” 

You replied with nonchalance, though Rafe could register the pain in your voice. 

“Maybe he just worries about you?” 

He asked, suggestively. 

“Maybe. I don’t know. You’ll see tonight what I mean.” 

You muttered. 

“Well if it makes you feel any better, we’ll be here together. At UNC, I mean.” 

He said with a sweet smile. 

“Really?!” 

The joy that riddled your face made Rafe smile. 

“Yeah, I’ve got some scouts coming to see me play in the fall and I’m excited. UNC is my dream school, though. So even if I have to be a walk-on or not play at all, I’ll still be coming here. They’ve already given me a scholarship.” 

“As they should, Mr. Valedictorian.” 

You smiled brightly at him. 

“Hey, how do you know I’m valedictorian?!” 

He chuckled but was surprised. He had never talked to anyone about his class standing. 

“Well, I did some digging after realizing I was second in our class, and to my surprise, my favorite Cameron was the one that beat me out.” 

You gave him a sly smile. 

“Since when am I your favorite Cameron?” 

He asked jokingly, though the notion made his heart soar. 

“Since always.” 

“Oh, come on! You and Sarah have been thick as thieves for the last two years.” 

“Maybe. Sarah’s always been a good friend to me. Topper and Kelce too. But, you’ve always been number one in my heart, I hope you know that.” 

The kindness exuded from your eyes. You meant every word. 

“You’re something else, you know that.” 

He chuckled, but you suddenly felt like you had said the wrong thing, swallowing thickly. He observed your form, realizing where your mind had gone. 

“No, no, I mean that in a good way. There’s just no one like you. You’ve always been just so perfect. It’s hard to measure up.” 

“It’s a facade, trust me.” 

You spoke, rolling your eyes at the notion that anything that had anything to do with you was in the same category as perfect. You were brought out of your thoughts as the two of you made your way to the entrance of the football field, following other students into the gates. Rafe looked on in awe at what would be his stomping grounds in just a few short years, his eyes sparkled as he daydreamed about the baby blue uniform he’d get to wear with his name and number sewn into the back. He’d get to matter here. He’d get to be somebody other than Ward Cameron’s son. He’d hope to make you his girl, here. But, quickly pushed that thought down as you began speaking to him. 

“What? Are you imagining all of your fans screaming your name? All the girls throwing themselves at you?”

You chuckled. 

“Nope. Just one.” 

“Shutup! Who is it, Cameron? You have to tell me!” 

“You’ll know soon enough, you know how bad I am with secrets.” 

You giggled and its music to his ears. 

“Boy do I! Remember that time in second grade when we brought that puppy to my house from the street and we were only able to hide it from my mom for three hours before you blabbered?!” 

“Not my best secret-keeping moment.”

He chuckled, remembering that day with you. Your soft curls that too often fell on your face and the look of pure fear in your eyes when your mom found out about the puppy. 

“That was a good day.” 

You spoke softly. 

“Yeah, it was.” 

The two of you stood side by side, Rafe’s shoulders towering over you, as you both looked onto the field that would be your home for four years. Excitement stirred in your gut at the chance to get out of the Outer Banks, out of Kildare fucking county with your best friends in the entire world and you simply, couldn’t wait. You hoped the next two years would fly by so you could get out of your hometown, finally fall in love, and forget that Kooks and Pogues even existed. 

“Okay, Cameron. Let’s go check out the buildings where our classes will be.” 

“Sounds good, pretty girl.” 

He smiled at you and placed his hand on the small of your back as he led you out of the stadium and back to the quad. Once you made it away from the large crowd inhabiting the stadium, you probed Rafe with another question. 

“So, what are you majoring in, big guy?” 

“I haven’t fully decided. Dad wants me to be a business and marketing major, but I am really into the idea of English lit. What about you?” 

“I’m English Literature with a concentration in creative writing and a minor in entrepreneurship.” 

“Nice! What do you want to do with that?” 

He probed, curious about your career path. 

“I’m not sure, yet. Maybe teach English or become a writer. All I know is that writing and reading makes me feel alive and I’d like to chase that high as long as I can.” 

“We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.”

You instantly recognized the words he was stringing together into a sentence. 

“Rafe Cameron, are you quoting Dead Poets Society to me?” 

You smiled so widely at him. This version of Rafe was different. It was one you had seen glimpses of over the years, but this one, he was your person. You were sure of it. 

“Don’t all the guys you talk to do that?” 

“What? Do you mean the ever-so-educated JJ Maybank who cares about feelings and reading? Yeah, no. I can’t say that they do.” 

You scoffed into a laugh at Rafe’s joke slash question. 

“Okay, that’s fair.” 

He said, letting out a boisterous belly laugh. 

“Let’s go look at the Business Administration building first.” 

You suggested and Rafe agreed with your idea. Since you both would have classes in both buildings, it truly didn’t matter which you explored first. As you made your way to the building across the quad, your phone started dinging. Your stupid blood sugar, ruining things again. 

“What’s that noise?” 

Rafe questioned. 

“It’s my glucose monitor on my phone. It’s low again.” 

You looked on at him, defeated. He gently lifted your bag off of his shoulders and took your phone out and looked down at the readings. 76 mg, way too low for his comfort and probably for yours too. 

“It’s 76 mg, Y/N. What do I need to do?” 

“Look for anything in my bag with carbs and I'll check again in 15 minutes.” 

You reply without the urgency that Rafe is feeling. 

“Okay, let’s sit down for the time being. You don’t look like you feel great.” 

He motioned to the bench, just off the sidewalk, close to the arboretum. He knew you wanted to see it before you left campus today, so this was the perfect spot. 

“I’m okay, just sluggish. I thought I was just tired from last night.” 

You let Rafe lead you to sit, his hand on the small of your back. You took his hand as he motioned you down onto the bench and he felt you shaking. Rafe looked through the bag, examining its contents, quickly. 

“Okay, there’s bread and a banana. Which is better?” 

“Give me the bread. It’s this banana nut bread I make every week.” 

“You amaze me you know that?” 

He gave you a soft smile and unwrapped the bread from the Ziploc bag it sat in, handing it to you. 

“Thank you, Rafe, really, it means the world to have you here and to have your help.” 

“Anything for you, I mean that. Are you thirsty?” 

“Yeah, there’s water in there, too.” 

He nodded, reaching back into the bag to retrieve the water bottle and handing it to you. 

“After we get your levels back up, let’s go into the arboretum, and then we will grab some lunch.” 

“Sure, thanks, Rafe. I love the Arboretum here, it’s so beautiful!” 

“Yeah, I know. You’ve only been talking about visiting it since we were ten.” 

“You remember that?” 

“I remember everything you tell me.” 

You blushed at his confession. You sat there, just chatting back and forth for the fifteen minutes it took for the food to settle before you checked your blood sugar again. Rafe pulled your phone back out of your bag and looked at the screen. 100 mg. We’re back in business baby!

“88 mg, back to normal, pretty girl.” 

He spoke, blush coating your cheeks and you watched the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile. 

“Thanks, Rafe. You’ve been so good about all of this. It scares most people.” 

You thank him sheepishly. 

“I’m not most people, you know that.” 

He stood up from the bench, placing your backpack on his shoulders once more, and gently took your hand in his, lifting you to your feet. He led you to the sidewalk and you began your trek to the arboretum, his hand on the small of your back once again. You tried not to read too much into his hands constantly being close to you, you and Rafe had always had an intimate relationship that was very hands-on. As you made your way toward the greenhouse, you felt a raindrop hit your nose and before your brain could process what your orbs had just taken in, the bottom of the sky fell out and rain poured from the sky. The same way your eyes leaked when you and Rafe had stopped speaking. As the rain-drenched your clothes, you and Rafe shared a mischievous look, before he grabbed your hand and you both took off running toward your destination. It seemed like you had been running forever when you made it inside the doors of the greenhouse. Once you finally shook the water off of your bodies, reminiscent of a wet dog shaking his fur violently, you had a minute to take Rafe in. The light from the lightning lit up his drenched features. He took his baseball cap off, shaking it out and ringing out the water from his shirt. As he turned to look at you, you moved into him, eyes locking with his, his tall muscular form standing over you. You’re not sure what’s come over you, maybe it’s the care he’s shown you or how different he is now. But, you couldn’t take too much time to process what you were feeling or what you were thinking. The next few moments felt like a scene from a movie, as you placed your hands on his cheeks and kissed his lips, deeply, a moan escaping your lips. He was quick to pull away, bewilderment in his eyes. 

“I-I’m sorry, Rafe. I read the signals wrong.” 

“I’m not sorry because you didn’t misread anything.” 

And just like that, Rafe Cameron was kissing you, gently, deeply, madly, clothes drenched in rainwater and with ecstasy-filled eyes. Rafe Goddamn Cameron was kissing you and you fucking loved it. 

taglist:

@maybankslover @inthelibrarybtw @luvrcndy @silkylovey @yagirlwrites @obxbabygirl @rafeecameronsbitch @klutzy-kay24 @roseczbalt

[destinyisastar]

Static Death

Summary: In Static Heart you died in your sleep but how? How did you die if it wasn't from sickness? What lead to your death?

This could be read as a prequel from Static Heart, this won't be a series, but I'll go back to it every now and then. (Read Static Remains for part 3.)

Alastor x Wife Reader

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Alastor died three days ago. He was shot in the head with his body ripped apart by the hunter’s dogs. He was supposedly found next to a corpse of a local man. There was a shovel and an open grave nearby.

You had no idea what was going on when you awoke from the sounds of knocking. Two police men were at the door.

“Are you the Wife of Alastor Hartfelt?” The taller of two said.

“Yes, did something happen? Is my Husband okay?” you asked worriedly.

 The two men looked at each other, “Its better if you come with us Mrs. Hartfelt.”

Once you arrived at the police station you were immediately questioned.

“Where were you two hours ago?”

“At home getting ready for bed.”

“Where was your husband?”

“He told me he would be working late at the radio station.”

“Are you sure about his whereabouts?”

“Yes, I’m sure, what are you implying?”

“I’m saying can you confidently tell me you knew where he was?”

“Yes, I’m positive! Where’s my husband?”

“Your husband was found dead alongside another man!”

Your eyes widen, your breath is knocked out of you.

“What…..?”

“We have reason to believe that your husband was the Bayou Butcher, we have people over there right now searching for more bodies, along with your property!”

“NO! No there’s no way that he…he’s that serial killer, my husband is a sweet gentleman. He would never do such a thing!”

“You say whatever you need to make yourself feel better! We know the truth and we’ll have the proof soon enough!”

The police searched the area where Alastor was found and located over 50 bodies.

While you were being questioned, the police searched your house. In the basement of your humble adobe, the home you shared with your loving husband, were blooded knives and a long sleeve tainted with dried blood.

The police kept you at the station till they finally figured out that you had no idea of your husband’s evil deeds.

Now its three days after his death.

You wanted a funeral for him but of the two funeral homes in your area neither of them wanted to host a ceremony for a serial killer.

Serial killer.

Your husband is, no… was a serial killer.

You begged and begged, shoved money in their faces until one of them looked at you with pity.

It was just you and the priest. No one else showed up. He was buried near a tree across the bayou from your home. Away from anyone that could damage the grave

After the priest left, you stayed near the grave. Kneeling down resting your head on the cold stone, placing a final kiss you stood up walking away from your dear husband, your dead and buried husband.

Making it home you went straight to your bedroom, collapsing on his side of the bed. You immediately began sobbing.

“How could you do this?!”

“Why did you do this?!”

“Alastor!!”

You eventually cry yourself to sleep.

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In another part of town, a woman was cleaning her shotgun.

“Disgusting, horrible man. He deserves more than death, hell… I hope he’s in hell forever.”

The woman grabs a photo on her nightstand.

“Don’t worry my love,” she caresses the man’s face in the photo, “I won’t let that filthy broad walk on this earth.”

She presses a kiss on the photo. “Neither of them deserves to live!” she places the photo back on the nightstand. “That filthy woman knew what that killer was doing!”

“I’ll make her pay.”

“I’ll make sure they’re both in hell”

The woman stands up with her shotgun in hand and looks into the mirror.

“I’ll kill that bitch.”

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The woman stands at the door of the Hartfelt household. She reaches for the knob and finds that it opens easily.

She maneuvers through the halls quietly and finds a door ajar.

Pushing the door lightly, the woman steps into the bedroom. On the bed lays a disheveled broad clutching on to a pillow, her face dried with tears.

“I hate you.”

The woman loads her gun.

“You are filled with the same evil as that husband of yours.”

The woman raises her gun, pointing it at the figure on the bed.

“Burn in hell!”

A blast is shot through your head, blood splatters across the room.

Your life among the living is no more.

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Hope you all enjoyed!

destinyisastar 2024

Word Count: 737

(no one asked for this, but I just wanted to make it :D)

[jaggedamethyst]

circuit breaker 🔬🌌 (part eight)

tutor!jayce talis x reader, ekko x reader college au

content: powder's back and so are your feelings about her leaving. you seek out ekko to help you calm your nerves.

notes: probably the usual warnings, mental health, a reference to self-harm if you squint (powder's character), angst, and drama idk.

y'all might not like reader much after this but its needed i swear, nuanced and non-perfect readers for the win

series master list

。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆　　 。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆

You pivoted on your feet, not at all equipped to handle a conversation right now—least of all with a ghost. That’s who Powder turned into; she was an apparition of the friend you knew. It seemed like forever ago—another life when she disappeared.

The familiar sound of your name didn’t stop your movement, “Wait!” 

You continued to walk, not entirely sure of where you were headed. Away from this general area was a great start. 

Powder came up next to you and matched your step with a slight skip. Her enthusiastic tone mirrored the energetic way she followed you. “Someone’s in a bad mood.” 

You continued to walk, letting your eyes fall closed for a brief moment. “God, can you be serious for once in your life?”  

“What’s the fun in that?” She contorted her body, purposely blocking your eyeline. 

“Powder,” you waved a hand out beside you and urged her to move. “Get out of my way.” 

She huffed beside you, still letting the sarcasm fill her tone. “I’ll be out of your hair, just need to see Ekko.” 

You froze. “You’re not serious.” 

“As a heart attack.” 

Standing in the middle of a busy street normally would’ve broke you, embarrassment paralyzing you. It was different, though, when Powder had already done so much damage. 

“You're un-fucking-real. You don’t even understand what you did.” 

“Tell me.” 

It was no mistake that Powder had her own problems. Like a good friend you stood by her, carried her through the tribulations her life constantly threw at her. First it was her and Vi’s uncle—he seemingly disappeared. The group of you theorized that it was Vander’s fault, that some sort of falling out pushed him away. The thought that Powder blamed herself didn’t escape you—that she could’ve decided above all she was just too much and nobody wanted to deal with her. So when Vander died, their only other connection to their mother, Powder broke. 

In her own way Vi was coping as well. When her sister was spiraling she wasn’t allowed to; she was forced to remain the sane one. Nobody knew when exactly Powder decided to go, or the ultimate reason why, but she did. Powder left and it was the worst thing to happen to any of you. You, Ekko, and Vi were never the same. 

“You ruined him—ruined me.” You blinked at her, a stoned face looking back at you. “I’m your friend, too.” You whispered to yourself, “I thought I was.” 

“Come on, you know we’re friends-“ 

“Would a friend leave the way you did? Without a damn word?” You shook your head at her. “Powder…I thought you were gone, for good.” 

“I didn’t mean-“ 

“What you meant to do and did do are different things. When Ekko couldn’t bring himself to leave his room for weeks. When Vi blamed me-“ Your throat tightened, “When Vi blamed me—said I was a horrible friend—I only ever needed my friend. My friend who didn’t care to just talk to me. Least of all leave me some sign of her.” 

“Look, I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” you folded your arms on yourself at the sudden breeze. “Maybe she was right—I didn’t do enough. I should’ve tried harder to be a better friend.” You looked at her, “So I’m gonna get it right with Ekko.” 

There was a look in her eye you previously became familiar with. The slight muscle contraction of her face, a swooped piece of hair, and a twitch of her brow…she knew you were serious. 

You continued, “Just go. Go and don’t come back.” 

The sound of your footsteps halted at a red light, leaving only your side profile for Powder to see. She could only stare, guilt filling her. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Staying still at that hurt, the earnest tone in her voice. There were times—in the latest parts of the night—where you begged for a moment like this. Secretly you wondered if there was a way for her to magically appear in your life, to mend the shattered pieces she left between the both of you. Ekko deserved as much if not more. Yet now, with Powder beside you…you could only pray for the light to turn green. 

When it flashed you crossed the street with an urgency you’d never felt. On one shoulder you were pestered to turn around, to apologize for pushing her away; she probably needs you right now. On the other, though, was an altogether more compelling argument. She deserves this. She didn’t even care enough to ask you to come.

You would’ve. Given the chance you’d leave with Powder—there wasn’t much left for you here. 

In the end you were most hurt by how she carved out time for Ekko—left him a stopwatch. For Ekko, it was the opportunity to hold something tangible, to have a physical manifestation of something that made Powder still feel palpable. She didn’t care to give you that. It hurt. 

To your luck it was the weekend and some time off was overdue. In the short break you tried not to let your mind wander—to Powder or Jayce. It was admittedly hard, though. Whether you wanted to acknowledge it or not there were certain songs that would come on or movie scenes that would flash in front of you and that pain would feel real again. There was almost always a feeling of inadequacy about you, that you couldn’t be loved platonically or otherwise. Maybe you shouldn’t have spent this time alone, stuck in your own mind that constantly ripped everything about you apart. You didn’t want to cry this weekend, but you did. A lot. 

By the start of the next week you got an automated email, one explaining that your sessions this week were canceled.

Fucking great.

You could reschedule with someone else if necessary, but the fine print explained how limited the spots would be considering everyone would now be doing double duty. 

Letting the motions carry you, you moved around your place without much thought. Showering and getting ready felt machine-like, just getting you closer to where you wanted to be the most. Your feet moved on their own, down the street and between crosswalks until you were in front of a door, his door. 

You knocked and waited a few seconds. Just as you raised your hand to tap again, a gust of air was pulled from you, the door swinging open. 

“Hi.” 

Ekko’s face looked back at you, an unreadable expression there. “Hey.” You looked down expectantly, waiting for him to let you in. He could tell, always could. He stepped back and left you some space, “Come on.” His motion paired with that smile you loved was enough to calm you—a relief filling you that you hadn’t felt for days. 

He watched you take off your shoes and round the corner to his room. Ekko mentally counted to himself, waiting ten seconds for you to come back in your slippers and something to shield you from the cold. He smirked at how right he was, down to you finding a throw blanket to wrap yourself in. 

“How’s Jayce?”

You froze, not expecting to hear his name today, especially from Ekko, “Hm?” 

“Tutoring?” 

“Dunno know, haven’t seem him.” 

“Really?” 

You shrugged, “Got a message saying there’s no sessions this week. So I guess I’m all yours.” 

He nodded, watching you slide into the couch with a familiarity. “Is that right?” 

“Yup,” you rubbed your hands with an exaggeration. “Just classes and then I’m completely free.” 

Ekko popped down next to you, leaning back on the cushions. “Good, you deserve the rest.” 

You were the one to nod now, appreciative of his encouragement and understanding. “Thank you.” 

He reached for your shoulder, rubbing it reassuringly, “‘Course. You’ve been doing a lot—through a lot.” 

Ekko was right. Today, last week, this month, this year…you never got a chance to breathe. 

“You okay?” 

“Not really.” You spoke without thinking, a small gasp catching in your throat before turning away slightly. 

He’d caught your head in his hand, moving a bit closer. He didn’t pry but instead let you just breathe. He watched the way your eyes closed, searching for a temperance you were so clearly lacking. 

“It’s just—a lot.” You opened your eyes again, “But I’m grateful to have you...no matter what.” 

He blinked at that, the lightness that returned after weeks. He could blame Jayce—the amount of time you spent together. The larger part of him blamed himself and his inaction. Even when he noticed things, like the very obvious way you reacted after kissing Jayce at the bar, he did nothing about it. 

You didn’t know how he felt. Not really. 

Ekko was never this close to you. Sure, you hugged and watched movies together. It was never this, though. Him letting his fingers settle on your cheek was an entirely new feeling—one he wouldn’t let pass fleetingly. 

You were grateful. No matter what, you were.

“I’ll always be here,” he whispered and leaned in a bit. 

You didn’t think, tired of doing so. Instead you let him move closer, praying that this was the feeling you were missing. You hoped, truly, that kissing Ekko would fill that part of yourself that was empty. 

It was soft, the way your lips touched. Without thinking you moved closer, allowing the pressure he was applying to actually push into you. Despite this, you could tell Ekko was still restrained, not wanting to scare you but wanting this so much. Your lips moved with his, falling into sync in only a way the two of you could. He knew you the most, he was your friend. 

Your breath caught at that—remembering that this was, in fact, your friend. 

The tingle between you had a sense of finality, not just that it was always just on the brink of happening, but that it was the end of your friendship as it currently was. You couldn’t let that be true, to let this settle and change everything. If that was the case why had you pushed Powder away? This wasn’t being a better fried, this was the worst it could be. 

You pulled away and spoke immediately. “Powder was here.” 

“What?” 

“She was here. I told her to leave.” 

He scoffed. “I don’t understand-“

“Neither do I, okay? I have no idea what I’m doing and this,” you motioned between the two of you, “This can’t happen.” 

His face stiffened, watching how quickly this turned around. 

You continued, “I’m sorry.” 

He avoided eye contact and slumped into the couch. Your sight lingered there for a few minutes before pushing yourself off of the couch and back into your shoes. 

You stopped on your way out, “I’ll call you, okay? I will.” 

He sat there, back toward the door and motionless. He didn’t speak and let you leave without another word. 

This was all spiraling out of control, and you could only find it in yourself to blame one person. You flipped open your phone, dialing and getting the voicemail. This didn’t deter you, no. It actually made you more angry. 

“Hey, Jayce. We need to talk.” You paused, “Actually…I tried to and I have no idea what’s wrong with you. Granted, I have no idea what’s wrong with me either but… it all comes back to you. Everything's always about you.” You started walking away from Ekko’s place, continuing to speak into the crackling line, “I’m confused. We have a moment, fine. Then you just disappear for a week—the week before my midterm. How inconsiderate are you? How immature do you have to be to not just accept what happened, move on, and do your damn job.” You let out a long huff, stopping at a stop sign, “Whatever. Just—leave me the hell alone, okay?” 

You wished he would. Your immediate thought was to hope as hard as you could that he would leave you alone—forever.

When you thought harder, though, it was no longer true. In some ways you craved the attention, even thought the angry message would do the trick.

Again, you had no idea what you were doing anymore.

Powder wasn't to blame and neither were Ekko and Jayce.

Somehow you became the problem, and that was hardest to face.

part nine

taglist

@juskonutoh @sseleniaa @aerina127 @sleepysoldier @angelicmisty @1800latenitecreep @venus-in-roses @myxticmoon @rando-no-5

[petew21-blog]

Poolverine

Spoilers for Deadpool & Wolverine

Deadpool and Wolverine aproached Cassandra while the others were battling her soldiers. Wolverine was suppressing his rage, Deadpool, on the other hand, was suppressing his words. He was still talking, just not as much as he would normally.

Cassandra Nova was ready for everything. After all, she was here for her whole life. She has seen everything. Even Loki escaping from the void. But now, these two basically immortal beings stood in front of her. One was a bigger paij in the ass than the other.

Deadpool:"Ok, Baldilocks slash wannabe Walter White in your kingdom. We know we had our ups and downs from the moment you killed Johnny, may he rest in peace. We loved him and will never forget him. But I gotta rain on your parade here, and I hope your bald head is not too sensitive for some cold rain drops, because now is the time to let us all go and end this drama show."

Wolverine:"You said you'll be holding back."

Deadpool:"Ohhh, this is holding back. I haven't even started."

Wolverine:"She has the power to kill you with a snap of her fingers, and you still think the best way to stop her is to insult her?"

Cassandra just stood in front of them, speechless.

Deadpool:"I think your X-men spoiled you with all the WE'RE-ALL-IN-THIS-TOGETHER attitude. Well, pal! This is my show, and here, we roast our enemies before we stab them after many unsuccessful attempts, moment of desperation and a collab with Madonna."

Cassandra:"I have no idea what he is on about, but the two of you look like a married couple after twenty years of hating each other's guts. And you know what couple therapists always say to the unfunctional couple?"

Deadpool:"Yep! They say, ‘You either learn to compromise… or one of you learns to hide the body really well.’ So, which one of us is digging tonight, Logan?!"

Cassandra:"I just... How do you put up with him?"

Logan:"I have known him for like 5 hours and killed him several times."

Deadpool:"And so did I! Cute, aren't we?"

Cassandra:"I can't... See each other's perspective and get out of my sight."

The two were now transported via portal back to one of the worlds to empty Xavier mansion.

Deadpool, now in Wolverine's body, stood up and looked down. "Ohhhhh, baby, yesss. Look at these!!!" Wade now popping his new claws. "Snikt! Yeaaaah. Oh, I could get used to this."

Deadpool turned his head to the audience and said:"Hey folks. Not to alarm you. Deadpool is still here, just a slightly broody and hairier version. Only now I got! Claaaaaws!!!" Wade sliced through a nearby painting that immediatelyfell down, destroying a statue on the table. "Whoopsie. Just normal Wolverine collateral damage, am I right?"

Logan:"What the hell is this? Why am I suddenly feeling... chatty? I need to get of this tight red spandex and this horrible mask."

Deadpool is now doing ridiculous poses in the reflection of a mirror. Screaming and scratching the air. "Look at me, I'm like a Canadian action figure." Wink at the audience.

Logan:"Stop this Wilson. We need to get Charles."

Deadpool:"Oh I don't know, I got this sudden urge to sing and get a circus. We shouldn't waste time."

They both search the house, but all the X-men are gone.

Now in the privacy of a small bathroom. Deadpool, stands in front o the mirror, shirtless, flexing. "Ohhhh look at that". He pops out his claws again. "If only I had these babies during my last taco truck robbery .- I mena, purchase."

Deadpool grabs a comb on the sink. "The hair! What an untamed mane. I look like a mix between a badger and a bad scripted shampoo comercial." Then he leans closer to the mirror. "And check out this jawline. Ladies and gents, feast your eyes."

"One, two, three, four, five...six! Finally jackpot. It's really like a washboard for all my dirty clothes. I could do laundry on these bad boys, If I ever did laundry."

"And what do we have here." Deadpool raises his furry eyebrows, following the hairy trail under, leading to the massive buldge. "Oh Logan, I knew you've been hiding some serious adamantium down here, but damn. No wonder all the X-men want to sleep with you. Pun intended. I mean... If I knew that you had this much heat packed in here, I would have switched with you sooner."

Wade strikes a final pose and blows a kiss to his reflection:"Wolvie, you beautiful, hairy beast, I may never give this body back to you."

Logan enters the bathroom with a scowl, freezing in horror at the sight before him.

Deadpool in Logan's body, completely naked and a little too pleased with his new situation.

"What the hell are you doing, Wade!!!"

"Hey, Wolvie. Just getting acquainted with the goods. Man, you've been holding out for me. Honestly, If there was a claw shooting out of this thing, I wouldn't even be surprised anymore." Wade said with a smile, gripping his hard dick in Logan's face

"Get your filthy hands off my...!" Logan fighting the urge to kill his own body

"Logan, it's your hands, don't forget that. So that means I did nothing wrong. Your body that touched yourself. I haven't touched anything, if you think about it." Towards the audience:"It's like flashbacks from puberty."

"Besides, I only wanted to take your body for a test drive, Logan. You know, making sure that all the gears work before returning the keys. Quality control!"

"If you don't stop now, I'll claw off that smug off your... your real face when we get back" Logan gets closer to his old body, now feeling a strange urge to want him to get closer. Both of the bodies pulling towards each other

Deadpool:"Logan? Did you pay Magneto to get us closer? Cause I feel a strange force pulling me to you and I have to say i don't mind it"

Logan:"I'm not doing anything. I... No way. I'm trying to go away from you"

Deadpool:"Oh yeah, it's happening, baby. My body can't resist this beautiful, hairy pile of muscles, and your body is controlled by one of the most perverted minds alive."

"YOU SICK BASTARD. This is all your twisted head. If you'll be enjoying even a second of this." Logan shouted

Deadpool:"Oh, come on. It's just chemistry. You can't fight it"

Logan:"Gotta get control of this."

Deadpool:"No need for that. Your body's got the hots for me. I'm a walking talking thirst trap now. Give in, big guy. Let's make it weird."

Logan now with his new hands still in spandex, touching his old body. "Wade... When this is over... I'm going to make you regret all of this."

Deadpool:"I'm counting on it. But until then, you're mine"

Wade pulls of his old mask down from Logan's head:"Ohhh there is that crispy chipsy face I haven't seen for a while". Logan:"Please just shut up"

Their hands our now all over each other. Logan's burly figure standing above Deadpool's figure. Logan's body under Wade's control now pushes his old body towards the wall. Breaking it. They get to Cyclops and Jean's bedroom, now vacant, ready for their action. Dadpool starts making out with his body still on the ground from the collision. Logan wants to fight back, but gives up and makes out with his bearded face. It feels kind of nice, but he can't ever admit that to Wade.

Wade picks up Logan from the ground using his claws, and with their help, he rips of the spandex off of Logan. Scratching him in the process. Logan now moaning in pain, looking deeply into his old eyes. He now understands why many people called him a "beast." He did look like one. But sexy one at that.

Wade threw Logan on the bed. Turning him around. Logan was ready for immediate penetration, but suddenly he felt a moist thing pushing its way between Deadpool's hairy ass. Was he now experiencing rimming? "Wade, no...!"

Deadpool:"Don't worry, sweetpie. I know what my body likes. Just relax, enjoy and don't fart in my face"

Logan has never felt this feeling in such an intimate place. And it wasn't even his body.

Wade now turned Logan to his back. He positioned himself. "Ready? I know you're used to pain, but this might be a bit... unsettling."

Logan:"I can take a bit of pain... AHHHHHHH"

Deadpool."Sorry, boo. Haven't stretched out that thing for quite a while."

He started pushing more and more. At that moment, Logan tried to get up and leave. But something in Logan's body overtook Wade. He took both of his claws and pushed them through Deadpool's body's forearms, securing him in place. Logan screamed in pain. "Why???"

Deadpool:"Don't want you to give up during the best part when it stops hurting"

Sweat was dripping from Logan's body all over Deadpool's. All of Logan's hair were now glistening in sweat.

"Ohhhh moth.... This is so amazing. I feel like a Republican during the Fourth of July" Deadpool screamed out while his claws were still in place.

He picked up the pace, and when he saw that Logan was now moaning in pleasure and not in pain, he took out his claws and just enjoyed the ride.

"Oh Wolvie. I think I'm gonna get you pregnant now."

"Just fuck me!!!"

Now very close to the finish, Deadpool took out his dick and pointed it at his old face, cumming all over his old chest and hitting his body's eye. Logan came too, but on his stomach. He was still mesnerized. How come, through all these years, he never even thought about stimulating his prostate?

Both now watching each other, sweaty, out of breath.

Logan:"You won't tell a soul."

Deadpool looking at the audience, smirking:"Promise"

And at the corner of the room a quiet girly voice spoke out:"Promise". Kitty sunk into the wall leaving embarassed to the next room

Message from Inbox :)

Yo, i love your writing. And with your last story with Hugh and Ryan....What about their characters?, Wolverine and Deadpool swapping bodies thanks to Cassandra Nova powers that also made them aroused for each other in order to distract them from stopping her. Wade can't help but to give into Logan's body urges to dominate, and Logan just want the voices gone.