#been on constant alert leaving the house lately

[soulmvtes]

hope everyone is staying safe rn w all the riots going on <3 it's so so crazy to be fearing for my safety and sharing advice on being vigilant to fellow poc/muslims rn

[draconic-desire]

🔹 Oculus Infinitum 🔹

Yandere Satoru Gojo x Reader

He’s infinity; in comparison, you’re nothing. So of course using your cursed technique on him backfires.

Warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI! Yandere behavior, unhealthy relationship, implied kidnapping, forced imprisonment, nsfw, non-con/dub-con, afab!reader, slight mindbreak

Infinity is often interpreted as the largest numerical magnitude to exist. And while that fact may be true in theory, infinity is better defined as the endless division of infinitesimally smaller and smaller values. One can be separated into half, half to a quarter, and so on, until the space between fractions almost ceases to exist.

Almost.

Gojo is a lot like infinity. Blame it on his technique, sure, but you suspect it runs much deeper than that. His actions never reach an end; instead, each one sinks further and further into your skin, fangs so small you barely feel them until it’s too late and the venom irreversibly invades your veins. He’s chipped away at you, piece by little piece, until you are the opposite of infinity; you are nothing.

On a surface level, most would say you have it pretty good. You (are trapped in) live in a huge home, filled with opulent furniture and all the luxuries you could ever want. You’re (expected to) allowed to cook meals for the two of you, including your favorite dishes. You still have (basic rights) privileges, such as free roam of the house, your own selection of clothes, access to the television and your phone (minus the ability to call or text, of course), even outdoor time with Satoru’s supervision. Why would you ever need to leave?

You had escaped, once.

Calling it an escape would be generous. Nothing ever happens without Gojo’s knowledge, without Gojo’s permission. How foolish you had been, to think you could evade his Six Eyes. Despite weeks of planning, he’d dragged you back home within the hour.

The chains hadn’t been removed for an entire month after that, and their lingering presence on each post of Satoru’s bed serves as a constant reminder that they’ll never rust.

Currently, you’re in the (not your, nothing is ever truly yours anymore) house’s lofty kitchen now, preparing dinner for his return home from work. Glancing up at the clock, you see it’s nearly time for him to arrive. You click the stovetop on and place a pot of water over the open flame, watching the blue fire flicker. Your thoughts immediately go to Gojo’s eyes, twin infernos of endless blue. Those eyes never seem to close, never seem to be too far from your own. They have the ability to lock you in place and throw away the key forever.

Moments later, the sound of the door opening and closing, along with the click of multiple locks, echoes from the hallway. Long, casual footsteps alert you to his presence behind you. His velvet voice, so languid and carefree, fans your ear as he settles his hands on your hips. “There’s my girl. Already making dinner for me?” He places a surprisingly chaste kiss to the top of your head. “Missed ya, baby.”

You add rice and a bit of salt and stir the pot in front of you in silence. When did you stop fighting him on that? On losing your full name to simple titles like girl and baby? The old you would have gagged at those pet names. The old you that kicked and bit the hand of your captor like a rabid animal, always fighting for freedom.

His grip tightens when you fail to immediately respond, though you hear him force a light tone to his voice. “What, curse got your tongue?”

Tension immediately floods your muscles. Gojo is a vain man; your silence maims his huge ego, something the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer will not stand for. You must react. “No, Gojo. I was just lost in thought, is all.”

You worry your lip when the quiet drags on. “I-I’m sorry?”

Gojo barks out a laugh, but his smile is strained and all fangs. “Back to Gojo again, huh?”

A mistake you notice too late. The spoon falls from your grip as you turn your head slowly. He’s still wearing his blindfold, but you know those infinite abyssal eyes are currently boring into your soul, daring you to speak. “Ah, no! Satoru, I mean—”

“Shh, baby. I get it.” His hands move to your shoulders, which he begins to massage. “Is it because you’re mad at me for neglecting you?”

To an outsider it may sound like he’s teasing, but you know all too well the creep of annoyance laced into his deepened, husky tone. “Or are you just being a brat?”

Swallowing, you place a hand on his toned forearm in an attempt to calm him. You feel him practically melt into the touch. “Truly, ‘Toru, I’m fine.” Your honeyed tone makes you sick, but you’ve learned it can subtly manipulate your captor in the right setting, usually this domestic fantasy world of his. “You’ve been so busy with work, and my mind has just been wandering. Why don’t you go sit while I finish up with the food?”

He hums absentmindedly, fingers swirling patterns across your abdomen. “I have a better idea…” Hot breath caresses your ear, eliciting a shiver. “Let me make it up to you.”

A deft hand snakes its way down the back of your bare thigh, barely ghosting across your skin. You can feel him, solid as a rock, yet you know there will always be space between you. He can touch you, but you’re powerless to do the same.

Just like in everything else, you can’t hold a candle to him. Your cursed energy is inconsequential, a tiny spark against his infinitive well of power.

Talk of your innate cursed ability is a topic you actively choose to avoid. Your technique, when activated, allows you to briefly control the thoughts and consequent actions of a single individual—but only after you’ve kissed them. And it often backfires tremendously, with the kiss causing overwhelming feelings of obsession or insanity in the receiver. From more than enough uses you’ve learned to see it as more of a curse in and of itself, and one you prefer to keep hidden.

Especially from the man behind you. Gojo—Satoru, you correct yourself—has enough twisted love that you wouldn’t dare try to possess his thoughts. The mere idea makes your throat tighten with panic.

Satoru’s technique, on the other hand, causes every nerve ending along your skin to explode as his hand falls beneath your skirt and skate across your barely clothed core.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he groans. “Are you wet for me, baby?” Before you can respond, Satoru easily moves your panties aside and spears you with his middle and ring fingers.

The invasion makes you jolt instantly. An involuntary gasp leaves you as he presses deeper, his fingers sheathed to the knuckle. You hate how your walls immediately tighten around him, slick with your arousal. No, you don’t want this, but Gojo gives you no choice in the matter but to practically ride his hand as he lifts your skirt with his other hand to get a better view.

“I’ll never get tired of this.” His thumb passes over your clit, pulling yet another shameful moan from your lips. Your tense demeanor only causes your pussy to accidentally squeeze him tighter, spurring him on. You try to pull your thighs together, but Satoru wrenches them apart easily with his other hand. “Oh, no, none of that. This pussy is mine.”

You squirm, grasping for something to get you out of this mess. “Satoru, stop, the food will burn—”

“Forget it,” he commands, ripping your skirt off. “We’ll order takeout after.”

Your heart drops. “After…?”

“Aw, you thought I’d stop here?” His condescension floods your ears. “No, babe, I’m only just getting started with you.”

His persistence, like infinity, has no end.

Without warning, Satoru removes his fingers from your core and swings you over his shoulder, smacking your bare ass and wrenching a yelp from you. You blanch when you realize he’s carrying you to the bedroom.

“Wait, Satoru—!”

You are unceremoniously thrown onto the bed, said white-haired sorcerer towering above you. He pounces immediately, locking your limbs in place. Satoru must see the fear, the readiness to engage in fight or flight, across your face, because he brushes a tender hand across your cheek to wipe away a tear you didn’t realize had fallen.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” he teases, but it somehow sounds like a threat. His fingers, still coated with your arousal, hook around your thong and slide it down your legs. “You’re acting like this is our first time or somethin'.”

Oh, it was far from the first time that he had touched you or been inside of you. But something about today, about this time, sends fear skittering across your whole being. Perhaps it’s all the reminiscence lately, or the fact that your thoughts drifted to your innate technique for the first time in weeks. Panic sinks its claws into you.

Breath ragged, heart pounding, you grab his face in both hands and react without thinking; for the first time since he kidnapped you, you willingly kiss Satoru Gojo and activate your technique.

Satoru immediately reacts, deepening the kiss and pressing you more firmly into the mattress until you feel as if you’re nearly suffocating.

Release me, you project into his mind, threading a hand through his white locks and squeezing hard.

The world suddenly goes very, very still.

Satoru freezes. Slowly, painfully, he parts his lips from your own and straightens his arms against the mattress to hover above you once more. His breath comes out in jagged huffs. The only sound that remains is the unending tick, tick, tick of the clock on the wall, bringing you closer to your doom.

For a second, you almost believe your technique worked.

That is, until he quickly sheds his blindfold, and you are meet with those stunning, terrifying, brilliant, paralyzing blues. He whispers your name with a foreign stillness that chills your bones to ice. “Do you…have a cursed technique?”

What an idiot you are to have thought you could sneak past Satoru Gojo’s barriers and Six Eyes. You can’t touch his physical form; why would his mind be any different?

It takes all of your willpower to withhold the panicked, hysterical laugh threatening to escape you. “Look, I can explain—”

Satoru leans back on his knees, one hand carding through his hair as he looks up to the ceiling. “God, babe, I knew you could see curses and harbored cursed energy, but here you go surprising me!” He laughs, a gleeful chuckle that has you reeling.

“You’re not…mad?” you dare to ask, inching your knees towards your chest. Maybe your technique failed, but you can still buy some time and get into a safer position.

Satoru gazes down at you, head tilted and a full grin on his lips. “Mad? Baby, why would I be upset when for the first time in our relationship, you were the one seducing me?”

Oh, no. No no no no no.

Grabbing your ankle, he drags you back to a supine position, your pussy on full display for him. He licks his lips at the sight. “Plus, you trying to get inside my head was cute and all. Weak, but you gave it your best!” He laughs again, and you realize that he never took you seriously, not even for a second.

The thought should enrage you—it would have infuriated the old you—but all you can manage now is a low whine as his hands go for his belt.

Satoru pulls himself free, his already hard cock pulsing in anticipation. Precum beads at the tip as he lines himself up with your entrance. “What was it you asked me for? Release, right?”

Your eyes bulge at his implication. “Wait, Satoru, I didn’t mean—!”

You barely have time to react as he buries himself in you completely. A choked sob bubbles up your throat as you breath through the stretch of him.

Satoru moans in ecstasy as he begins a steady pace, thrusting mercilessly into that squishy spot deep inside your core that has you seeing stars.

“Kiss me again.” It’s light and breathless, but it’s an order, not a request. Fear makes you comply immediately, though your kiss is a hesitant, timid thing compared to your earlier attempt to sway him.

He’s having none of that. No, Satoru had a taste of your affection, and now he’ll tolerate nothing less than your full reciprocation. If only you could truly peer into his mind and see that no amount of your cursed energy would change him; your being was already permanently imprinted on his brain. You were his perfect doll, held in the palm of his hand.

Nails rake down his back as you arch against the mattress. Every time he thrusts, he grinds against your clit, and you feel yourself chasing your finish. You hate this, you want it to stop, but you can’t help—

“Please, Satoru,” you plead without thinking, meeting his limitless eyes. You feel yourself drowning in them, a blue sky that never ceases.

For a split second, his rhythm hesitates. “…Say that again,” he whispers, almost reverently. “Beg for me.”

You’re not quite sure what you’re asking for. “P-please, I can’t take it anymore, please let me—!”

“Choose your next word carefully,” he warns, voice shifting to a low growl as his hand moves to your throat, adding ever so much pressure.

Tears streak your vision. The embarrassment of your technique failing and the lewd position he has you in all crash down upon you, and another piece of you breaks. “Please let me cum,” you concede.

To your dismay, his pace slows, and you cry out in protest as your orgasm fades. “I just need you to do one more thing for me, baby.” He leans into your neck, nipping and sucking at all your sensitive spots, torturing you even further. “Tell me you love me.”

Alarms should be blazing through your head, but the fog of your arousal clouds your judgement as you seek your climax.

That piece of your soul he took shatters into a million shards as you whisper, “I love you, Satoru.”

The two of you shatter simultaneously. You register all too late the warmth invading your core as Satoru pumps his cum deep inside you.

He’s never come in you before.

Your name is murmured over and over like a prayer against your neck—or maybe it’s a curse. You jolt in overstimulation when he pulls out and bends down to place a kiss against your puffy folds. “So good for me, baby. This perfect pussy belongs to me.”

He kisses you a final time, long and slow. When he pulls away, a languid smile sweeps across his features. “You’re all mine, (Y/n). Even your mind.”

With the use of your innate technique, you’ve dug your own grave for good. Satoru will never let you go now.

After all, infinity is indivisible.

[writingsonsaturn]

lucy taking care of sick reader!!!

lucy and r aren’t dating yet, but they aren’t just friends either. when r doesn’t come into work one day, and no one (besides grey) has heard from her, lucy goes straight to her house when she goes out on patrol. she stops in throughout the day after finding out that r is like beyond sick.

maybe a little scene where r lays her head in lucy’s lap and lucy run her hands through readers hairrrrrr oh my

lovesick - lucy chen

{ masterlist }

🪐: im still trying to find my writing style, so hopefully this is okay and fits what you wanted!! <3

word count: 982

content warning: sickness (flu like), just fluff

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

You woke up with a throbbing head and a clogged up nose. Originally, you thought you could power through it and suck it up long enough to finish a shift, but the moment you stood upright your world became disoriented. 

Doing your best to breath through the dizziness, you reached over for your phone to call into work. Grey practically pleaded with you to stay home when you mentioned you would come into work if you needed to, “you have more than enough sick days, use them and keep your ass out of my station.” You just sighed and agreed, saying your goodbyes when he wished you to get better soon.

Without much thought to it you passed back out on your warm comfy bed, hoping sleep would rid you of the constant pain your brain was forcing you to endure.

Lucy checked her watch when she got in, thinking maybe you were just late or had been caught in some early morning traffic. As the time ticked away she decided maybe it would be best to text you, and when she didn't get an answer her thoughts ran around her head like an athlete competing in a race that would determine if they go farther into their season. 

She opted to check in on you when she was out on patrol, getting into her squad car and making you her first check up of the day, praying to whatever could hear her that you were there and okay.

Pulling up to your apartment she felt a ping in her chest, she wasn’t sure why she was so worried about you. You guys weren't exactly a couple, but the others would argue that you two were basically already married, you both would laugh it off and call the team crazy, still continuing the narrative that you two were just ‘friends”. 

Lucy knew better than that though, she knew you were the first person she called when she was having a rough night and needed a warm bed to share with someone, you were the first she told about good news, you are the only person she truly, and deeply loved with every living and beating part of her body.

She grabbed the key you had given her for the nights she needed someone, after the Rosalind situation you forced her to promise you that no matter the time of night or day she would come over whenever she needed to. Lucy wouldn’t say she now abused the fact she had a key to your place, but it was used more than her own key to her apartment at this point.

“Y/n?” Lucy called out, she heard the faint sound of a groan coming from your bedroom, alerting her of your presents. “Hey, are you oka-” Her words were paused by the sight of you, your skin was shining with sweat and you were cramped in a fetal position. “My love, what happened?” she quickly came over to you touching your forehead, flinching at how warm it felt compared to her skin.

You only groaned and rolled over, “i really don't feel good luce.”

You tried your best to explain all your symptoms, but your scratchy throat only allowed for so much irritation before you were in a coughing fit. Lucy rubbed your back gently, doing her best to coax you through your attack, “Here let’s get you out of this stuffy room, and on the couch, yeah?” she encouraged. You nodded leisurely and threw your arm over her shoulder, allowing her to help you to your living room.

Quickly, Lucy put anything and everything you could possibly need besides the toilet in arms reach. “Before I leave, do you need absolutely anything else, babe?”  you only smiled at her with droopy eyelids, “No, but i wish you didn’t need to leave” you pouted at her causing her to smile. 

“Call me or text me if you need me, I'll be here in an instant.”

And then she was gone, you continued to pout until her next check up with you during lunch. “Okay, love, i brought you some chicken noodle soup and some cough syrup” she set the soup in front of you with cold water and a pre-measured cap of medicine. “Thank you, love” you croaked out, “You don’t have to thank me” she replied while helping you get in an upright position so you could comfortably eat your food and take the disgusting medicine.

“I'll be back after my shift, and remember to call-” “call you if i need anything, i know, honey.” you finished her sentence, she left you with a quick kiss on your forehead.

After eating and forcing yourself to down the medicine you fell back asleep, you woke up a handful of times with the constant tossing and turning, and being too hot or too cold. You finally decided you had slept enough and reached for the tv remote, aimlessly flipping through channels.

You heard the door click and a smile began to grow on your face, “sorry i'm late! Traffic has been just awful today” Lucy explained, taking her shoes off and sitting her to-go bag on the counter. “It’s okay hon.” you looked at her as she sat down. 

“How are you feeling?” Lucy asked you, as you laid your head down on her lap looking up at her, “I've certainly been better” you joked. 

She reached her soft fingers to rake through your hair, massaging your scalp, aiding the headache that had been attacking your head all day long. “Well i'm here now, darling” she looked down at you, soothingly rubbing your forehead, lulling you to sleep. 

She gave herself an imaginary pat on the back at getting you to sleep so quickly, making a mental note that maybe when you get better she’ll finally take you on a long awaited date.

[funniestpersonalivefr]

couldn't leave you

wesker lives after the events of resident evil five but returns to find you mourning his death. mentions of character death and the grief that comes with that. not proofread, credit to image owner.

it felt like a scene from a movie. the day was cloudy and grey, providing the perfect atmosphere as you watched the empty coffin lower into the ground. tears fell from your eyes from behind the black veil you wore. your husband was dead.

the dirt was placed over the coffin, it was empty but it still brought pain to your heart. they hadn't even succeeded in finding a body to bring you closure. you didn't want to believe it but after the days passing turned into weeks and then into months the possibility of his death seemed more and more likely.

it was impossible for your mind to believe that albert wesker, the god of a man he was, could've died. his mortality never seemed to be a real factor in his life, you could've sworn he'd live forever.

the tombstone stated back at you, almost taunting you as you continued to read it over and over again.

in memory of albert wesker, a loving husband.

it felt official, he was gone. you couldn't help the tears that slipped from your face as you walked away from the grave as you went back to your car. almost as if the world around you knew how solemn of an occasion this was, the dark clouds began to let rain fall. it felt as though the sky was crying with you.

as you sat in the car, collecting yourself and wiping what tears remained in your eyes. you looked around briefly, you could've sworn you saw him. you blinked and he was gone.

your brain has to be playing tricks on you.

little do you know your husband was standing in the cemetery as you drove away. he approached the grave with a sigh. part of him couldn't help but wonder if it would be better to let himself die. he'd free you from the constant worry and the target that had been placed on your back when you married him but deep down no matter how selfish it may seem, he couldn't leave you.

you had found yourself back in the house you once shared with the love of your life, specifically you were curled up in his study. the study was truly his, his smell still lingered from the countless hours he spent slaving away at his research.

"oh albert, i wish you were here," you mumble into the couch that sat in his study. you had spent the nights following the news of his supposed death sleeping in this very room.

you were already drifting off to sleep, the exhaustion from crying finally taking its toll on your body. the front door unlocked and your ears barely picked up on it but your body was sent into full alert.

did whoever killed wesker decide to get you next?

you searched his office looking for anything you could use to defend yourself, settling on the fire poker. you tried to think of all the self defense tips your late husband had given you but all you could do is cower in a hiding spot by the door, hoping to maybe get the upper hand.

heavy footsteps approach and you raise the fire poker, bracing yourself to attack the intruder. the door opens and you swing, eyes closed as you wait for the impact.

"it's good to see you too, dear," a familiar voice speaks out.

your eyes open wide and you stare at the man in front of you. it was your husband, it was albert wesker. he had blocked your makeshift weapon with ease and it quickly slipped from your hands.

"albert? i thought you were..." you say, getting choked up as emotions overwhelm you. the blonde man pulls you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you tight as you begin to sob into his chest.

"shhh, i know," is all he can say as he jaw clenches shut. he's fighting his own tears at this point and he refuses to let that side of him slip, not now at least. you pull back, cupping his face as you cry. a smile crosses your face as you stare at him.

"it's you, it's really you," your tone is filled with disbelief and you can't help but pull him into a kiss. the kiss is desperate as you try to cement in your mind that this is real.

he kisses you back before pulling away, taking in your disheveled state. the two of you spend the next few hours in each other's arms in moments filled with love after he explains all he can about what happened.

his body is marked with horrendous burns that have torn away at his skin, albert won't let you see them. they're covered under numerous layers of bandages and he'd hate to hurt you anymore. albert's head rests on your chest as you comb through his blonde hair. you pretend not to notice when tears start to slip from his red fiery eyes.

his body is mangled and burnt and he's afraid. albert wesker is afraid of you leaving him, his body isn't the work of art it was before yet here he is in your arms.

you hum to him softly as you comb through his hair, you'll never understand how he managed to survive but you continue to thank any higher power for bringing him back to you. his breathing slows and albert wesker manages to fall asleep in your arms.

[tu-sugar-mami]

Could a queer bitch possibly ask a solid?, remember the “heavily injured s/o” you did for Alcina …….

……but Donna

Holy cows, I'm sorry for being so late but work has had me on a chokehold 😩 I tried to make it a lil longer than Alcina's one for your reading pleasure and for your patience, so enjoy! 💖✨

Words: 1,910

Tags: Light angst, fluff, happy ending, neutral gender reader

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The Beneviento estate had always been a quiet place, occasionally disturbed by a tornado of chaos named Angie, but aside from that and the roaring of the nearby waterfall, the place was pretty serene. Quiet but in a good way, there were always light sounds such as the ticking of the grandfather clock creating a pleasant background noise enough for the silence to not be overwhelming, and Donna liked it that way. Although, when you arrived, Donna learned that silence wasn't everything. With you she learned the joys of a fun ruckus on a chase and its balance with the quietness of reading a book near the window after it. 

Despite stirring Donna's routine into a 'whatever will it be next?' lifestyle, you became Donna's constant, the only thing that she could count on that wouldn't change, always being there by her side and showing her a whole new side of her world.

Although, you developed a tendency to wander through the manor. At first it was difficult for Donna to allow you to do so, since her inner demons always tried to convince her you did it as an attempt to "escape" from her, but when you -through patience and love- showed her that you were going nowhere, she encouraged you to explore the home that little by little became also yours. 

Sometimes though, the feeling of restlessness and anxiety returned when she didn't hear the noises you made while exploring. The sound of the heel of your shoes scraping against the floorboards, your distant laughing or the creaking of the old stairs under your weight became her anchor, something she could rely on to know that you'd keep loyal to your word and stay with her. 

But all the nice and calm things can't last long in house Beneviento. 

It was the silence that alerted her. A cold and echoing silence that made a chill run down her spine in worried anticipation. Not even Angie could be heard running around in a hurry. The birds outside were not singing, the clock ticking seemed to have lost its strength and with them all the waterfall roaring also dimmed. The entire house and its surrounding gardens seemed to hold their breath expectantly, and Donna in her many years living there had never witnessed such horrid and deafening quietness.

It took her a second after she realized something was wrong to go looking for you, checking every room and frowning when she didn't spot any speck of your face in the halls. Even the rest of her dolls, always scattered all around the manor, weren't able to tell her anything about your whereabouts, much less about what was happening, but she tried to stay serene, although there was only so much she could handle.

Desperation slowly clawed at the Lady, you weren't answering to her calling out your name with urgency. The thought of you leaving her despite reassuring her many times that you wouldn't do it stabbed her heart. Did you break your promise? Where were you? Where was Angie? It had been a long time since she was last completely alone, only before you arrived into her life. Even Angie, her beloved doll had always been by her side, and if being glued to her side wasn't possible, she was at least always close, why wasn't she answering either? 

The lower level was empty aside from her dolls, and she didn't know where else to look. Her knees felt weak from all the running around in your search, and her lungs stung with the effort of yelling your name.

That is until a quiet voice called out to her. Distant but strong enough for her to react. Her connection to her dolls had always been stronger the more they were close, and the further away they were, the more difficult it was for the connection to be clear. But this voice, inconsolable, reached for her with a level of panic that had Donna stumbling against the furniture and walls in her path as she hurriedly ran towards her doll calling her.

Help

The sweet voice repeated the word again and again, and Donna's heart clenched every time. 

The plea came from the lowest level in the basement, a place not even Donna herself -being the owner of the estate- would visit frequently. The only thing there was darkness, cold and… a stone well. 

Her doll's calling became louder, and she didn't waste a moment before climbing down the stairs bringing an oil lamp to illuminate her path. 

It was hard to see at first, but the light provided was more than enough to illuminate your limp body onto the well's bottom.

Her blood ran cold. It was so shocking to see her beloved like this, her always resilient and full of energy sunshine who brightened every room, now defeated on the ground before her. Her heart pounded in her chest at the thought that crossed her mind briefly as lightning but not any less painful. She couldn't bear it if she lost you, she had lost so much in her life, she couldn't possibly lose you too, it would be her last straw.

Donna fought the tremble in her knees to approach you and settle down at your side, defeated, before noticing something.

Your breathing was shallow and Donna  would have missed it were it not for the whistle that came from your nose every time you exhaled, but that was enough to bring new tears to her eye and with them renewed hope.

She decided to be careful in her approach, and gently analized the situation. She couldn't believe it, your arm was bent in an awkward position, one that definitely shouldn't be possible unless something was broken, and that was enough to let Donna guess you had fallen from the well border, but the question was how?

Not only that, but when she brought the lamp closer and the rest of the shadows crawled away she could make out Angie's dress peeking from under you, and it's only then that she noticed her beloved doll being held protectively in your embrace, but also unmoving. 

Donna knew she had to act quickly, and she lifted you easily -her strength thanks to the Cadow was one of the things she was grateful for in times like this- in sort of an inverted piggyback style, to allow her to climb up the stairs, careful to keep Angie and your injured arm cradled in against both your bodies.

Only god knows how long you were out before your eyes, albeit groggily, opened again. It took you a moment before realizing you were in your shared bed with Donna, who was lying next to you far enough to not disrupt or accidentally hurt you, but close enough for you to feel the dip of the bed from her weight.

Your shifting made her come out of her light slumber in a blink, and her eyes widened as soon as she realized you were awake. Her sight became blurry, and she let out a sigh of relief and reverence. How were you so beautiful even in this state, she couldn't understand, but goodness her breath was taken away. All she could do was try to keep her relieved tests at the sight of you being alive and well again.

Gently, almost as if scared of hurting you, Donna's cold hands found their way towards your face and her thumbs began to caress your cheeks. The touch made you feel better, soothing the uncomfortable warmth of your cheeks, and in return you held one of her hands with your free own and tenderly kissed her palm. At that moment, Donna swore she could never live without you.

The Lady felt a pang of guilt and sorrow every time you winced away from her touch, not because of her, but because your body still complained about your wounds, but the sting in her heart made her promise she wouldn't let you get hurt again. You had become so important to her that the mere thought of not having you in her life made her sick. 

After getting out of the well and successfully carrying you to the bedroom she had needed to clean the bleeding wounds from when your skin was scratched by the pebbles and stone and made use of her first aid knowledge to fix your arm and secure it. Tears would blurry her sight every time you winced at the sting of the cotton and antiseptic and the movement of your mauled bone.

Although, both basking in eachother's presence in a lovely rosy-orange afternoon in the comfy bed, it felt like heaven, and even if you were aching everywhere, you weren't complaining, not with the way Donne looked at you, with such love and wonder.

If Donna was shy about kissing you too much before, that definitely wasn't the case after the incident. Every hour your face and lips would be peppered by soft kisses and tender touches, and who were you to deny them? Your blush did speak a lot. 

She would check your bandages far too often, but you can't really blame her. It was quite the nasty fall, and your arm did suffer an ugly break, but Donna's care was tender and patient, loving and effective. Besides, you discovered that if you let out a fake pained whimper you would immediately be granted comfort in the way of your Lady holding you close and letting you hide your face in the crook of her neck and sweet words to accompany her sweet scent. While it might have been amusing, you could guess that the calls she gave Moreau every half an hour to consult about your broken arm were starting to tire him, and you tried to keep her attention on you rather than smothering your friend Sal with health questions for your sake.

Also, the arm you fell on had been your dominant one, and while you had no problems trying to use the other in your daily activities, Donna insisted on feeding you herself. Your favorite spoon would be wielded by her while she fed you your favorite meal that she made with such care, and snacks were not lacking either, your bedside table drawer became full with every little thing you had told Donna you liked to munch on. Honestly, you didn't even know how to thank her anymore for all the effort she put in taking care of you.

For a faster recovery, Donna took it upon herself to ensure you had the best sleep you could have, but between wanting to not accidentally hurt you and her need to be close to you, she decided that the only solution would be letting you sleep on top of her at night, with her arms secured gently around you while humming sweet melodies and gently cooing you until you were knocked out by such comfort.

Angie (after recovering too and explaining that you went after her to prevent her from getting too close to the well's border but accidentally slipping and cushioning her own fall with your body) helped as best as she could, bringing compresses and new bandages along with medicine and soothing cream. 

The next day after the incident the well was sealed shut, and you spent the rest of the month being spoiled rotten by a very affectionate Lady and her energetic doll.

_________________________________________

If you'd like you can also swing by my kofi

[steviewashere]

It would've been so cool if during the scene when Steve hears Dustin "in the walls" of the Wheeler's house, he's the only one who could hear it.

Like he tries to tell the others that Dustin's there or his voice is there. But in reality, it's Steve being lured in by Vecna.

And Dustin's voice goes from normal talking to something panicked. A danger is lurking kind of panicked. And Steve's protective instincts kick in and he can't turn that part of him off. He's just stuck in fight mode for too long. Getting jumpy and putting himself in front of the others. Nancy, Robin, and Eddie think it's weird, but get more and more concerned the more that time passes and Steve is...panicked beyond belief, gasping and hiccuping at every sound, spinning in place, arms up and blocking, eyes wide and searching, silently listening and uncharacteristically serious. He gets to the point where all he can hear around him is the screaming for help from the party members. And the only thing that gets him resolved is a tape playing and somebody holding onto him, urging him to relax.

The moment he thinks it's safe to take his headphones off (because he thinks the screaming and the urgent voices have stopped) Vecna gets him in his hold. And oddly, the only way that gets Steve away from Vecna and back to regular Hawkins, is the genuine urgent pleading of his friends, begging for him to come back to them. To fight Vecna's control and to follow their voices. (Whereas before, the panicked words were coming from everywhere with no sign of stopping, no real instruction as to where the disembodied voices were coming from.)

Also, Steve would definitely offer himself as bait in the Creel house. Imagine he gets Vecna'd and the other person there with him is Robin. And he dies in his best friend's arms. But this time, Robin realizes his death is very real. She knows what holding a limp and bleeding and broken body is like. She knows what it's like being present for the death of Steve Harrington. And all she can think, besides the obvious that her best friend is dead, is that she didn't sign up for this. (But she'd do it all over again if it meant that Steve didn't die in the end.)

Obviously, he wouldn't die. But imagine the angst. Imagine him coming back to himself in the hospital. He comes back different, not wrong, but different. He's no longer playful. Doesn't want to talk. Always staring, unfocused and frightened. Doesn't even care that his key feature, his hair, has been shaved down from how unruly it got during his time in the hospital. He's a shadow of himself. Lingering in what Vecna inflicted onto him. Not placing himself as an outcast, constantly outside of the group. In fact, he's practically too intertwined with everybody. Too much in people's space. Fitting himself between gaps. Needing to be close. Needing to be alert. Barely sleeps. And if he does, it isn't for long, awoken by voices. Has to call everybody, hear their voices soft and natural. Doesn't seek out romantic relationships because he knows he won't be able to explain what happened to him. He's overprotective and awfully afraid. Can't sit in silences because he imagines his friend's screams.

And even when he dates Eddie (because I'm going to make this Steddie, bite me), he is content to just listen to Eddie ramble. On and on. Doesn't allow him to stop. Will ask questions if only to keep the silence at bay. Needs to be close in his sleep. Needs the constant touch and the constant affection. Needs to be reassured. Won't leave Robin's side either. At work or in social functions. She relies on him and he relies on her. They often have late night phone calls that stretch on for hours. Steve in his kitchen, hunched over the phone at his island, repeating over and over that he's alive and reasonably okay. And Robin on the other side, comforting him that everybody is safe and that she's not in danger and nobody is going to need him this late at night. Eddie getting out of bed to Steve slumped and asleep at the counter, phone still tight in his grip. Lugging him to the couch to sleep. Sitting nearby, on the floor or at Steve's feet. One hand on his ankle or his wrist or on his shaved scalp.

Just Steve growing dependent on everybody. Instead of them being dependent on him. And also being tremendously traumatized. And just...abnormal.

Anyway. Maybe I'll write this. If not, here's an idea lol.

[renaiswriting]

The secrets the moon sees

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo/Reader

Summary:

Nobody knew Wonwoo aside from his bad family reputation. Nobody knows him the way you do.

Word count: +7.5k words

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of illegal substances, mentions of prison, mentions of house burning down. (If I missed something, please let me know!)

Author's notes: Please keep in mind that this was made for entertainment purposes only and does not, in any way, represent the people in the story. Enjoy!

Tag list form

Masterlist

Tag list: @phoebe0 @sahhmochi @everyw0nu @darkdayelixer

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You held your books closer to your chest as the strong wind caused by the motorcycles passed right onto you.

 

Your hair moved in all directions. Your lips were pursed into a thin line as you tried your best to swallow a sigh.

 

You glared at the one that passed really close to you, laughing as you jumped because of the sudden noise coming from the motorcycle engine.

 

He smirked in your direction; the motorcycle had stopped, and he was staring in your direction, looking at you from head to toe. He raised his eyebrows in a teasing manner, raising his hand and sending you a flying kiss.

 

You hated him.

 

You hated all of them.

 

There was no use in doing anything. Unfortunately, there were five of them, all men. And you were alone.

 

The smartest decision was probably to just turn around and continue with your life as if nothing had happened.

But God, it was irritating.

 

Why did they have to feel the need to annoy you?

 

Why?

 

You were doing anything to annoy them or to attract his attention.

 

Nor that you wanted to.

 

So why couldn't they just leave you alone?

 

You sighed as you turned around, your knuckles turning white as your hands slowly transformed into two identical punches.

 

The sky was already orange-ish, as the sun was slowly letting the moon make its way to the earth.

 

You had been studying up until that moment; your exams were close, and you just knew that if you didn't put in extra hours, you would be failing them.

 

Your family was probably already waiting for you. Your phone had died, and you couldn't tell what time it was, but the sky and the practically empty school building were clues enough that it was time to go back.

 

You just hoped it wasn't too late because otherwise you would have to deal with your father's nag and punishments, and you were simply in no position to lose your phone at that time.

 

You had everything you needed to study—the important dates and schedule for the whole month—written in your notes.

 

You hoped your phone had at least some percentage of the battery for you to listen to some music on your way home.

 

Walking home alone was not really an issue, but it made you feel slightly... in constant alertness.

 

You took a deep breath, trying to relax your tense shoulders, and decided to simply enjoy the beautiful colors of the sky.

 

There was a soft breeze touching your cheeks with such delicateness that, if you weren't drowning in the multiple exams you had to study for, you would have actually enjoyed it.

 

You noticed, however, when he came closer to you once the breeze turned into a more aggressive wind.

 

"It's pretty late." He was the first one to speak; both of his hands were now resting on the motorcycle handlebar, his body moving so close to it that his chest was barely millimeters away from it.

 

His hair was shorter than the last time you had seen him, and even though you liked how his forehead could now breathe, you allowed yourself to mourn the loss of his long, curly hair for some minutes.

 

He chuckled when he saw your eyes looking a minute too long at his forehead.

 

"You like what you see?" Wonwoo asked.

 

"Yeah. I do." You confessed, biting down the smirk that wanted to escape your mouth so badly when your words hit his brain, his cheeks turning a pale shade of pink, and his eyes moved to the floor with a shy smile on his face.

 

"Oh." He mumbled, still not able to look directly into your eyes.

 

Wonwoo reached for his jean jacket; it was somewhat worn, and the cuffs were stained with what looked like motorcycle grease.

 

Without looking you in the eye, Wonwoo held out his hand, revealing a chocolate bar that he knew was your favorite.

 

"And this?" you asked without hiding the surprise in your voice and the sparkle in your eyes. Your heart was pounding as you saw Wonwoo's shy smile as he watched you open the package with immense happiness on your face.

 

You took a small bite, letting the sweetness of the chocolate sweeten your palate, causing the smile on your face to become even bigger.

 

"I saw it and thought you'd like it." Wonwoo murmured.

 

You pressed the chocolate against his lips, forcing him to open his mouth to take some of the chocolate as well.

 

"But it's for you." Wonwoo protested. You didn't respond; instead, you slammed the chocolate against his teeth. Wonwoo rolled his eyes, but took some of the chocolate and hummed in happiness at the delicious treat.

 

"Thank you; it was just what I was needing."

 

"It's just chocolate." Wonwoo shook his head.

 

Wonwoo shook his head, playing it down.

 

But you were grateful for every little gift or detail Wonwoo had for you.

 

He hadn't bought it because he had to; he had done it because he had wanted to.

 

"I don't have anything to give you back." You muttered, your brow furrowed.

 

"You don't have to give me anything." Wonwoo shook his head, his monolid eyes widening. "It's just chocolate." He repeated.

 

But it wasn't just chocolate.

 

Wonwoo had no money.

 

Not as much as your family.

 

And no matter how much you told him that it wasn't necessary for him to buy you something or that it would be better if you spent it on himself, Wonwoo always showed up with some gift for you.

 

"What are you doing here?" You asked; you were not sure you could let his silence continue for too long before you started feeling self-conscious of it.

 

"Doing some favors for my father, I'm going to Sheuryung's house to see if I can sell him some old junk. What are you doing? It's late."

 

"Studying."

 

Wonwoo nodded, looking over his shoulder, when a loud motorcycle sounded like it was coming in your direction.

 

Wonwoo was two years older than you. And you both had been—whatever this was—for a little too long for you to remember accurately the exact date.

 

Your brother knew him. When he was a kid, he used to go to school with him in the same class.

And as far as you knew, Wonwoo was one of the best in the class.

 

Your brother never really befriended him, and you weren't really sure it wasn't because of Wonwoo's family background.

 

Your family was not classist, or so you thought, but it was true that Wonwoo's family was known for being into heavy stuff.

 

Wonwoo's own older brother and dad were in prison before you and Wonwoo became friends.

 

Wonwoo watched you for a few moments, smiling at your lost gaze on the ground.

His soft laughter brought you back to reality.

 

He was still sitting on the bike, his long legs stretched out on either side of it.

 

His black shirt looked a little too good on him.

 

"Get on." Wonwoo spoke, pointing toward the back of his bike with his chin. "I'll take you home." Wonwoo was wearing a helmet there, but he wasn't wearing one.

 

You'd already lost count of the number of times you'd stressed to him how important it was to wear one.

 

"That you don't have to go sell your junk?" You asked in confusion, but your wrist was caught between the long, slender fingers of Wonwoo, who gently pulled you toward the bike.

 

"Your house is on my way there; I'll just be five minutes."

 

You carefully stowed the chocolate packet in your backpack before slipping behind Wonwoo, your arms wrapping around his prominent waist. "Here." Wonwoo turned around, carefully placing the motorcycle helmet on your head.

 

Beyond protection, it would serve to help you so that, if your family was nearby, they couldn't recognize you as easily.

 

Wonwoo made sure it was properly positioned and that it wouldn't hurt if it was too tight before turning around and starting on his way once more. "Hold on carefully." He warned you.

 

But you had been riding that bike so long, behind him, that the warning was almost in vain, your arms already out of habit wrapped around his waist within seconds of sitting on the bike.

 

His body heat invaded you, and your body moved closer to the heat source by instinct, staying as close to him as possible.

 

His big arms never made any move to move you a bit away from him, so you assumed he didn't care.

 

"Can we go a little slower?" You asked him. Wonwoo wasn't going extremely fast, and that was something you had noticed the first few times you had accepted a ride from him.

 

When he was riding alone, the speed went much higher than when he took you along.

 

But you were going a little faster than you would have liked; you didn't want to get home already. You wanted to be able to enjoy his company a little more.

Wonwoo nodded his head, his hand resting for a few seconds on your leg, almost as if he were asking you if everything was okay.

You sighed.

Wonwoo moved until he was in a meadow near your house, not far away. If you squinted, you were sure you could see the roof of your home.

The motorcycle's engine stopped, and Wonwoo helped you off the bike, carefully pulling the helmet off your head.

 

"What happened?" he asked, frowning. His eyes moved quickly back and forth between your face and body, trying to pick up on whether any injury had occurred on the short ride you had taken.

 

Some dirt had surely left a trace on your cheek, because Wonwoo's fingers took a few seconds to caress the dirt off your face.

 

His face was expressionless, and his eyes were intimidating to anyone who held eye contact with him for more than two seconds.

His hands were a little rough, and his hot breaths were crashing against your neck.

 

The sudden closeness made your throat go dry, and you swallowed dryly as you felt your eyes widen.

 

You didn't need to see your reflection in the small rearview mirrors of the bike to know you were completely red.

 

You dry swallowed all the saliva that had accumulated in your mouth, the glup being clear enough to be resonant even with the noises of the city.

 

Wonwoo didn't look away, his hand still on your cheek and his thumb under your chin, moving your head higher.

 

Your eyes went from his eyes to his thin lips, and you could have sworn you heard his breath shaking.

 

His tongue moved his lips, and your eyes followed the movement until they again connected with his eyes.

 

Wonwoo was staring at you so intently that you felt he was reading your mind and seeing your every little, most private secret.

 

"Are you okay?" Wonwoo asked. His voice sounded deeper than you had ever heard it before. The breeze began to move your hair again, moving until it reached your eyes.

The hand that wasn't on your cheek moved up to your face, catching the lock of hair that was dancing in the open air above your face and leaving it safely behind your left ear. "You look a little more flustered today."

 

You made a sound to reassure him that you were okay, your eyes still on his face.

 

"We're friends, right?" You asked him.

 

Wonwoo frowned, looking away and letting both of his hands fall to either side of his body.

 

His body moved as far away from your personal space as possible, and your body automatically missed the heat coming from it.

 

Even his hands, which were always colder compared to the rest of his body, left a certain warmth on your face. The ghost of his touch was still on your face.

"Of course." Wonwoo replied, his voice sounding slightly more muffled than before. His shoulders were just as tense as his jaw.

Wonwoo looked at the sky and his surroundings, and all you could think about was whether or not you had screwed up.

Wonwoo already had too many problems for you to have to add weight on his already tired shoulders.

Wonwoo was nice.

 

Too nice at times.

 

His reputation and his family's reputation preceded him.

 

You knew that had already alienated many.

 

But you still feared the world would turn its back on Wonwoo.

 

That his journey would cross paths with those of evil intent.

 

You had never met his mother, and of his father, you only knew what little Wonwoo told you.

As ironic as it was, you heard more about his brother, who was locked up in jail, than you did about his mother.

You had seen a picture of his twin sister only once. It was, as far as you knew, the only photo Wonwoo had of her.

 

It had been one of his few possessions that his father had been able to get out of the fire, where they had sadly lost her.

 

She had been an adorable kid, and every time Wonwoo smiled, you could see the tracing of her face in him.

They were identical twins, but it was, in some sort of way, kind of scary how similar they were physically.

 

Wonwoo had been around eleven years old when this happened, and shortly after, his brother went to jail for being found in possession of illegal substances.

 

Wonwoo had mentioned to you that his brother had been released from jail on a few occasions but always, for some reason, returned.

 

According to what your own brother told you, it was around that age that Wonwoo stopped going to school.

 

Or at least the same school as him, because Wonwoo had mentioned to you some memories of his high school studies.

 

Wonwoo frowned once again, staring at you. His lips moved as he called your name again.

 

"Sorry, it seems like I got in my head too much." You apologized, noticing that he had been calling your name a couple of times already.

"It's fine. Are you sure you're okay? You seem too lost in your own thoughts today."

 

"Yes, sorry." You apologized once again. "I guess with all my exams, I'm kind of...you know."

 

Wonwoo shook his head and said, "You'll do fine; you always worry too much, and you always end up passing all your exams and turning in all your papers on time."

 

"Not this time," you denied. "This exam is too hard. I feel like I'm just about to go bald from stress."

 

"Nonsense, you're the smartest person I know; I'm sure I could read any word in the dictionary and you'd know the definition without having to think about it for more than two seconds."

 

You laughed, not finding what I was saying funny: "I regret to inform you that my reputation as an intelligent person ends in a few days."

Wonwoo rolled his eyes as he laughed, not believing you. "Well, if you do poorly on the exam, I guess we can escape the city and go to a nearby town and start a life on the farm together." He joked.

 

"I don't see any other logical option," you shook your head, feigning seriousness, following his joke, "my family would never forgive me for a failed exam." You feigned distress, only to start laughing loudly. Your family was fine with any grade as long as you passed the exam.

But it was the pressure you put on yourself that made you feel bad if you did not get a perfect grade.

 

"Does it really matter, though?" Wonwoo asked after a while, "I mean, you're going to pass it anyway; why does it matter if you get an A or a C?"

 

"I take pride in my grades; I take my studies really seriously."

 

"I know." Wonwoo replied. "But if you have an A+ in everything, getting a C wouldn't change your future that much."

You cross your arms over your chest, trying to hold back the anger that came from feeling that no one understood you. But once again, you couldn't really be mad at him, could you? You were more than aware that the future that he had ahead was not the same as yours.

 

"Let's just go. It's getting late, and my parents are probably starting to get worried."

 

Wonwoo opened his eyes, holding your shoulder for a second before you moved backwards, avoiding his touch.

 

He seemed hurt by it.

 

"I'm sorry if I said something that bothered you. It was not my intention." Wonwoo apologized. You nodded but did not look at him in the eyes.

"Please, just take me home."

 

Wonwoo stared at you for a few instants until he gave up, noticing that you were not in the mood to talk anymore, and the rest of the ten minutes that took him to reach your house were spent in complete silence between the two of you.

 

He stopped his motorcycle in front of your house, hiding it behind the wall of trees that your father proudly took care of for years, getting more than ten trees standing in front of the family house.

 

"(Y/n)—" Wonwoo started once you removed the helmet.

 

"Thank you for the ride." You interrupted him, handing him the helmet and walking back to your house, ignoring the noise of the motorcycle driving away.

You closed the door behind you, and your nose quickly flooded with the aroma of meat ready to be eaten and the famous chocolate cake your mother had prepared for dessert that night.

 

The TV was on, and your brother was sitting comfortably there with his phone in one hand and a can of Coke in the other. His feet were resting on the small table in front of the TV, and his mouth was full of the soda he was drinking.

He paid you no attention as you took off your shoes and headed straight to your room so you could change into more comfortable clothes.

From halfway up the stairs, you could see your father talking to your mother in the hallway near the dining room.

Your room was in complete chaos and reflected exactly the state of mind you were in at that moment.

Your bed was undone, some of your pillows were on the floor, and your clothes were everywhere but in the closet.

You checked your reflection on the mirror near your window, and you almost tore your hair apart because of how bad you looked.

Your dark circles under your eyes were way more obvious than what you had remembered that same morning; your hair was a mess, and your face was red.

So red that it almost felt like you had a pretty bad case of sunburn going on from the neck and up.

You tried to chut down the thousands of thoughts that rushed to display in your mind, deciding to take off your shirt to change it for a new one.

 

You stopped, frozen in your spot, as your nose touched the fabric of your shirt.

 

It smelled like Wonwoo.

 

Like his perfume.

 

You took a deep breath, inhaling as much of it as you could.

You finished taking it out, looking at your reflection once again.

Your cheeks were much redder than before, and your pupils were completely dilated.

Her perfume felt like a drug.

You shook your head, trying to come back to reality, throwing the shirt in the laundry basket and deciding to put on your favorite pajamas.

The table was already completely set when you finished getting ready. Your brother was still texting on his phone while your mother poured the orange juice she liked so much into the four glasses.

"It smells delicious." You smiled at your mother as you sat down next to your father, who gave you a kiss on the temple and messed up your hair.

"How did your studies go, sweetie?" He asked as he handed you a portion of meat on your mother's plate and proceeded to place another on yours.

"Fine," you shrugged, taking a sip of the orange juice. "But I still have more to study."

"I didn't see you when I went to room 4B; I think you'd be studying all day." Your brother asked, raising an eyebrow as he took his first bite of the meat your father had cooked.

 

"I was in the library until they closed the doors and kicked me out."

 

Your brother laughed. "And you still have more to study? Your eyes are going to dry up from reading and reading."

 

"But at least enjoy dinner and dessert before you go back to your studies. Clear your head a bit." Your mother pointed it out, smiling.

 

"Were you able to go visit Uncle Kang?" your father asked your brother, who shook his head in annoyance as if remembering something that had been haunting him for some time.

 

"Can you believe those criminals were taking up the whole road?" Your brother spat out every word as if he were spewing venom out of his mouth. "They almost scratched my whole car, ugh. One went by so fast I thought it would fall on top of the hood."

 

"Again?" Your father frowned, taking a long sip of his drink thoughtfully.

 

"Yes. It was the Lees'; they were probably going to meet with Jeon. Those guys are always into every little thing. I had to rush home before dinner because I had to get robbed. God knows what those desperate people will do for some money."

 

"How do you know if you didn't see him there?" You asked, trying to keep your annoyance as inadvertent as possible.

 

"Because those four are always getting into weird stuff, illegal stuff. All the time. I run into them often. One is worse than the other. Let me start dropping you off and picking you up after your classes; I couldn't think what would happen if my poor little sister had to deal with them." Your brother wailed.

 

"Thanks, but I can take care of myself."

 

"(Y/n) Maybe you should listen to your brother; if he has come across them more times than you, he will surely know what to do in those situations better than you. It's a really dangerous world out there; I already have too much to worry about about one of my children living in another country to have to worry about another one of my children being attacked in the street for not listening to their elders."

 

"But it just doesn't make sense; why are you blaming a person who wasn't even there?"

 

"I know him; believe me, that family is dangerous. Even as a kid, you could see he was going to end up being the criminal he is; all he does is sell junk, but you're not going to tell me that's how they survive; I wouldn't be surprised if he ends up in jail like his brother for selling drugs."

 

"And when was the last time you talked to him?" You asked, already annoyed, "When you were eleven? Please stop going around spreading disinformation."

 

"Why are you taking this subject so personally?" Your brother looked at you incredulously, laughing at your sudden surge of anger. "It almost looks like I said your favorite childhood stuffed animal is horrible or something. Go get some fresh air; you'll get a nosebleed from high blood pressure."

 

Your parents were given it, and you could only emit a fake smile. The last thing you would want to do is keep trying to defend Wonwoo.

The rest of dinner went by too quickly, and before you knew it, you were alone in your room, sitting at your desk with your computer on, working on a job that you were clearly too tired to understand.

The cup of coffee you had made yourself a while ago had already cooled, and your glasses were on the desk.

The twenty different sheets of paper were scattered everywhere, and there were three different books open on different pages at random.

You were already on the verge of tears, because if you couldn't answer those simple questions, how could you solve an exam?

Your phone vibrated next to your computer, and your phone screen lit up, revealing the notification of three separate messages from Wonwoo.

 

You hadn't ignored it, but you hadn't realized that he had texted you almost forty minutes ago already.

Wonwoo: You there? 22:48

Wonwoo: ? 22:59

Wonwoo: I guess you're sleeping, good night. 23:32

It was not unusual for Wonwoo to write to you at that hour; most of his conversations occurred at night when you knew no one could appear over your shoulder and read the texts.

It had become almost customary to delete all conversations before you went to sleep, but your heart beat fast every time a new text was received.

Like the first time, he asked for your phone number and sent you a text.

Me: Sorry, i'm still studying 23:47

You didn't even get to lock the phone before his reply made your phone turn its screen on again.

Wonwoo: it's late. 23:47

Wonwoo: Go to sleep. 23:48

You: I can't sleep. 23:54

Wonwoo: Me neither. 23:56

Wonwoo: My mind keep coming back to you. 23:57

Wonwoo: I'm sorry for upsetting you earlier today.

Wonwoo: I didn't thought how my words might have come off to you.

You: it's okay.

You: i was still pretty stressed from all my exams, so I'm sorry too

You: why aren't you sleeping? 00:09

Wonwoo: I've got a lot on my mind. 00:12

Wonwoo: Are you going to be up studying all night? 00:13

You: that was the plan 00:17

You: but my brain just cannot concentrate 00:18

Wonwoo: Do you want to meet up? 00:20

You: now? 00:22

Wonwoo: If you want to. 00:23

The idea was tempting; you would rather spend a thousand times the night circling Wonwoo's tiny waist as they moved through the deserted streets under the starry night than sit alone in your room crying because your brain couldn't memorize three words in a row.

A smile came across your face, and you felt the need to put your phone down on your desk for a second so you could think clearly.

 

Your reflection was looking at you from across the room, and you ignored the goofy expression on your face.

 

Like a little girl, when your first crush ever gave you a flower or held your hand for the first time,

You opened the door to your room carefully, sticking your head out through the small peephole you had opened to take a little peek at the water.

 

Your brother's door, at the end of the hallway, was closed all the way, but some light could be seen from underneath it.

 

You sharpened your hearing as much as possible, and a melody or two could be heard.

 

He was listening to music.

 

Your parents' room was upstairs, and as far as you could see, they were in complete silence and darkness.

 

The fact that your brother was awake listening to music was good because the same melody could surely cover the noise of the front door opening and closing.

 

But on the other hand, if he were awake, he could come to check on how your studies were going.

The best option would be to turn off the lights and put your pillow and clothes on the bed to pretend you were sleeping.

 

You stepped out into the hallway cautiously, mentally insulting yourself as the door to your room closed behind you with a small tsk.

 

You stood motionless in the hallway, waiting for your brother to come out of his room to see what the noise had been, but he continued in his room undeterred.

 

Almost on tiptoe, you made your way to the third floor of the house, stopping at the door of your parents' room and leaning your right ear against it.

 

Only your father's snoring could be heard.

 

They were asleep.

You rush off to find the jeans you felt you looked taller in, and that jacket Wonwoo had once mentioned he liked the way it looked.

 

You: Can you come get me? 00:27

 

The truth is that your creation in the bed of a fake you left you quite pleased. With the lights off, it looked as if you were watching yourself sleep.

You closed the front door as quietly as you could, running quickly to where Wonwoo was waiting for you on his motorcycle.

Your hair swayed on your back with every step you took.

Wonwoo had parked his bike close to your house, but not too close for its noise to be obvious.

"Hello," Wonwoo greeted you, a small smile on his face as his eyes traveled from your eyes to the jacket you had purposely put on.

Wonwoo was wearing black pants and a jacket of the same color. He had glasses that had seen better days on his face.

Wonwoo needed glasses, but you only remembered seeing him wear them when no one else was around.

His hair looked like it was fresh from the shower, and when you got closer to him, the scent of his perfume washed over you almost instantly.

"Hello." You said back to him. Zipping up your jacket and making sure your house keys were safely in your pocket before sitting behind him in your designated spot

 

Wonwoo carefully placed the safety helmet on your face, making sure that it wouldn't bother you before turning around.

 

"Do you know where we're going?" You asked him, though you didn't really care what the answer would be.

"No," he answered you, "I just wanted to ride the bike around until I found somewhere to rest a bit."

 

And with that, Wonwoo started the engine, and slowly his journey into the empty streets began.

 

His back was pressed against your chest, while your hands held tightly to your jacket.

 

You just hoped he wasn't feeling the pounding of your heart beating against his back.

 

It would be too embarrassing if he was feeling it.

You could feel your fingers starting to freeze in the cold breeze and could only wonder how Wonwoo could drive when his fingers were always so much colder than yours.

Your eyes closed for a few moments, feeling free of all frustrations and obligations. It was as if every single thing that caused you any sort of frustration was getting away from you as the bike sped off into the night.

You sighed, looking at those people who were walking on the dark sidewalks.

Wonwoo made a couple of turns and turned one last time before stopping in a park that looked completely deserted.

Wonwoo stopped near a small kiosk, sitting there, his back leaning against the cement wall behind him.

You followed him, sitting with your knees drawn up to your chest, looking at your surroundings.

"Were you able to finish studying?" Wonwoo asked.

 

"No," you said, shaking your head. "I wanted to stay up late studying, but..." you clicked your tongue, your head cocking a little to the left. It was an obvious frustration.

 

"I hope I wasn't the reason your studies were interrupted."

"Oh, no," you assured him. "I was getting frustrated with myself; I guess my brain had reached its limit for the day, and I just didn't want to accept it. I could use your message; I needed to clear my head a bit."

 

Wonwoo smiled at you, playing with his own fingers. "I'm glad I was able to help in some way." Wonwoo took a deep breath before raising his eyes from his fingers to your face for a brief second. "I wanted to apologize again. I'm sorry for upsetting you today."

"I know I already apologized to you over text, but I wanted to do it in person as well; I wanted to make sure we were alright."

 

"We are." You replied to him, not really liking the way he was frowning or the way his voice didn't sound so sure.

 

"Alright." Wonwoo breathed, nodding. His features seemed more relaxed now that you both had talked it out.

 

"How did the junk stuff go?" You asked him, "Did you make some money?"

 

"Well, no, really. I sold some, but most of it just went back home with me again. I'll have to try luck again tomorrow. Jihoon told me about an old dude who usually buys lots of his own family stuff, so it might help."

 

"Speaking of your friend, today they attacked my brother." You mentioned cleaning your throat. Suddenly, you did not want to make eye contact with him.

"Attacked your brother?" Wonwoo asked in confusion, "When?"

 

"He told me they were on the road today; they almost scratched his whole car."

 

"But today they were at my house all day. They helped my mom to clean the garden and fix some old cars to see if they could be sold."

 

You frowned, not knowing who you should believe.

 

"But still, this is not the first time my brother mentioned them getting on his way; could you talk to them so they can just leave him alone, please? I just don't want them to keep fighting."

 

"I'll talk with them," Wonwoo agreed, "but just so you know, your brother is usually the one who's on my and my friends' asses; he's hanging out with people I don't recommend hanging out with. Dangerous people. I don't know if you're aware of it; probably not, but I'm telling you this just so you know."

 

"What do you mean? What's he's on?"

 

"Well, he started buying stuff from Jihoon, like, you know, stuff. But they started buying big amounts, so Jihoon retracted and didn't want to sell any more. So that's when the fights started; your brother started hanging out with others who were on much heavier stuff."

 

"No, I think you have mistaken him for someone else; my brother doesn't do drugs."

"It's up to you to believe what you want to believe; I'm just telling you that I saw it with my own eyes, buying it from Jihoon."

 

"And why do you let your friends sell those things?"

 

"What Jihoon does is his business; I can only take responsibility for my own decisions and actions. I do not consume, nor do I sell. If Jihoon, your brother, or anyone else wants to buy it, it's on them."

"But if you're so sure he's not the type of person to do that, maybe you're right." He told you, "Maybe he bought it for someone else instead; who knows?"

 

"Yeah," you mumbled, "that sounds more like him." You agreed. "Let's just talk about something else. Please."

 

"Like what?"

"I don't know; tell me something."

 

"What do you mean?" Wonwoo asked, his back leaning against the cold wall. His legs stretched out on the floor were almost twice as long as yours.

Wonwoo had his eyes closed, and his breathing sounded soft and slow.

 

"What's your favorite movie?" you decided to ask; it was a simple enough question to distract both of you.

 

"Titanic," Wonwoo answered after thinking about it for a few moments.

 

"Titanic?" you repeated in surprise. "I thought you were going to say Marvel." You laughed. Wonwoo laughed too, his eyes looking up at the moon that was shining beautifully that night.

 

"I never saw Marvel. I don't quite understand them." Wonwoo scoffed at himself. And hearing your voice say that you would never have taken him for a guy who would enjoy romance movies, he replied, "It was my mom and Woohee's favorite movie."

 

And somehow, it made sense.

 

"The stars are beautiful tonight." You mumbled.

 

"Yeah," Wonwoo whispered, his face lifting to see the stars, his glasses almost falling out of his face in the process.

 

"Do you know any constellations?" You asked him, taking a few seconds to glance at his face before focusing on the shining star above you.

 

"I know that's Leo the Lion," he pointed out at a backward question mark shape you could see in the sky. "And that's Cassiopeia."

 

You chuckled at the shape of it. "W as in Wonwoo."

 

He chuckled. "It can also be an M."

 

You both stayed like that for some time. "When I was a kid, I used to think that each star had its own secret. And everybody had their own star. I always tried to find out which one was my sister."

Your hand found him without needing to lock at it, and your fingers easily interlocked with his. "And did you find it?" Wonwoo shook his head, his eyes still on the sky, but his thin lips were now in a thin line. "Well, if you want my opinion, I think your sister's that star." You pointed out the shiniest star you could find in the sky.

 

"When everything happened, I wanted to become an astronaut. Because my mom always told me and Woohee that once we're done with this life, we all become stars in the sky. But," Wonwoo chuckled, "life happened, and I kind of found out that's not what actually happens."

 

"Oh, c'mon, how can you be so sure about what happens once we die? Who knows, we might end up becoming stars—what? What do you think happens when we die?"

 

"Nothing." Wonwoo replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the whole world. "Nothing happens; it's just game over. Everything turns black, and then you're gone."

 

"So you think that happened with your sister?" You asked. And the question actually made him think for some time.

 

"No," he eventually replied, "that could never be her end; she deserves to be that pretty star."

"And what do you think your star is?" You asked him to get a little distracted. Every time he remembered his sister, it seemed like a part of him shut down, and while you knew it was necessary for him to be able to make that transition so he could feel better, you didn't want to make him spend the rest of the night having a hard time asking about her.

 

"I never thought about it; I guess that one's okay." He replied, pointing to a star that was barely visible.

 

"Nonsense. Yours has to be that one," I argued, pointing to one that was in the direction of your house, which shone brightest among a whole circle of less visible stars surrounding it.

 

"Then yours has to be that one next to it, the pretty one." He beamed in seconds, smirking when you ran out of words to add. He raised his right eyebrow when your eyes met for a brief second before you quickly looked away. "Cat got your tongue?" He teased.

"No, I just wouldn't have believed that of all the stars, you would choose that one. Won't you have to know what my favorite constellation is?" You stuck your tongue out at him, trying to change the subject.

 

"You don't even know the names of the constellations; how would you have one?" He replied with a chuckle. His breath was beating directly against your ear. You hadn't noticed in what instant he had come so close; the realization made you startle. "So use that pretty mouth of yours and tell me what it was that made you so shy."

 

It was an addition to moments like these when Wonwoo would get so... bold. You loved the moments where his shyness got the better of him, and you were the one who made him blush for looking into his eyes for more than two seconds.

 

It was unbelievable.

 

The power it felt to know that your presence alone was enough to make him so flustered

 

But when he would experience the opposite, when he would take the reins and turn the game around, it was inexplicable how it made you feel.

 

It brought out a shyness that you don't usually have with other people.

 

You wanted to hide in his chest or his neck. You wanted to hide anywhere because your face would simply turn into a tomato and the ease of speech would simply disappear.

 

It was more than obvious that you were nervous.

 

It was more than obvious that you enjoyed every second of it.

 

And what you feared most—your feelings for him—were all too visible.

 

"Who would have thought that the Jeon Wonwoo would call me, of everybody, pretty? A dream come true." You tried to joke around, making the sudden tension between you both dissipate.

 

You were most likely the one who felt it anyway.

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, "as if it were necessary for me to say it."

 

You raised an eyebrow. "I don't know what you want from me, Jeon, but you're not going to get it." You joked again.

 

"Damn, and I was looking forward to that new car." Wonwoo clicked his tongue, feigning disappointment.

 

They both laughed loudly, their laughter filling the silence of the quiet night.

 

"Do you mind if I rest my head on your legs?" Wonwoo shook his head, telling you to go ahead, so carefully to not hurt him, you laid your head in his tights. From there, the sky above you felt like it was the only thing in the whole world.

 

Wonwoo's fingers started playing with your hair, softly massaging your scalp.

 

"That feels nice." You mumbled, closing your eyes for a second. Wonwoo hummed, continuing.

His hands stopped playing with your hair and started tracing the bridge of your nose and the outline of your lips.

 

Your eyes widened, only to find his eyes staring at you with an intensity that seemed to be trying to convey a message mentally.

 

"Oh, uh... Wonwoo?"

 

Wonwoo responded with a "mmm?" His eyes still roamed over every millimeter of your face, his hand holding your cheek with such delicacy that it made you feel as if you were made of glass.

 

You remained silent, not quite understanding what it was you wanted to say to him.

 

He brought his face close to yours, his breathing colliding with yours.

 

You could feel your ears throbbing and your throat suddenly dry.

 

His eyes were closed, and you felt yourself imitating him as your faces came closer and closer, leaving less and less space between you.

 

His warmth invaded you like a blanket that wanted to embrace you and never let go.

 

Your phone began to ring noisily.

 

Your heart, which already seemed to be beating at full capacity, felt like it was breaking its own record.

 

Your cheeks were flushed, realizing what had almost happened.

 

"Hello?" You asked in a shaky voice, clearing your throat. It felt so dry that you could drink a bottle of water in seconds.

 

"Where the fuck are you? I went to your room, and you weren't there!" your brother asked angrily. He spoke in whispers that slowly seemed to turn into screams.

 

"Are mom and dad awake?"

 

"No. I had the decency not to wake them. I want you to come home now. Or I'll have to wake them up, and we both know what awaits you if they ever find out you left the house at night without their permission."

 

Your brother hung up the call before you had time to answer, and you sat on the floor for a few moments staring at the screen of your phone while you processed what had happened.

"I've been wanting to tell you something—" Wonwoo started, but was quickly interrupted.

"I'm sorry, Wonwoo, but I've got to go home now."

 

Wonwoo looked at you before nodding and making his way to his motorcycle.

 

This time, you didn't bother to ask him to go slower.

 

You were scared that, by the time you made it home, your whole family would be up.

 

When you finally put your feet down, your brother was walking from the front door angrily.

 

"Where on Earth did you take her?" Your brother asked him. Wonwoo, sensing your brother's anger, decided to stand up in front of you. "Oh, what are you now? A guardian dog in your free time to gain extra money? Leave my sister alone. I don't know what you have to tell her to make her believe you're a good guy, but stop your games now. Leave. Her. Alone." He started pushing Wonwoo backwards, not really caring that you were behind him.

 

"Stop it." You told your brother, moving from behind Wonwoo's back. "I'm not a kid anymore; I can make my own decisions." You faced your brother. "And more surely, I can protect myself. He did nothing."

 

"Go inside the house. We're on for a really long night; we have to talk." Your brother told you before taking a last glance at Wonwoo and walking inside the house.

 

You looked at Wonwoo, feeling bad for what your brother had said.

 

You wanted to apologize.

 

To tell him that you were not like him.

 

To tell him that you thought highly of him.

 

And if you could, you would give him the world.

 

"I should go." You said instead.

"Yeah, you should." Wonwoo agreed, taking a last glance at you before jumping on the motorcycle.

[veronicaleighauthor]

Amy Dorrit

::Spoiler Alert::

Last year I “discovered” Andrew Davies’s adaptation of “Little Dorrit.” Actually, it had been on my radar for awhile and I was able to snag the DVD set off of Ebay. It soon became one of my comfort watches. I decided to give the book a try. In the past I struggled with Charles Dickens. His books are often crazy long, they have fifty main characters, and like five hundred background characters. I usually lose interest at the half-way mark of his books. I gave it the ol’ college try and was able to stay with it. Like the adaptation, I was drawn to the character Amy Dorrit, affectionately called Little Dorrit.

Amy Dorrit is not your typical heroine. She isn’t feisty like Elizabeth Bennet of “Pride and Prejudice” and she isn’t a moral crusader in the way Margaret Hale is in “North and South.” A shadowy character, Amy is often in a scene and she never says a word. Others – her family, friends, and acquaintances steal the attention of the reader, and Amy herself fades into the background. When we’re introduced to her in the book, we don’t see her at first. Only when others are discussing her do we realize she is present at all.

Amy Dorrit

February 2, 2025 ~ Veronica Leigh ~ Edit"Amy Dorrit"

Last year I “discovered” Andrew Davies’s adaptation of “Little Dorrit.” Actually, it had been on my radar for awhile and I was able to snag the DVD set off of Ebay. It soon became one of my comfort watches. I decided to give the book a try. In the past I struggled with Charles Dickens. His books are often crazy long, they have fifty main characters, and like five hundred background characters. I usually lose interest at the half-way mark of his books. I gave it the ol’ college try and was able to stay with it. Like the adaptation, I was drawn to the character Amy Dorrit, affectionately called Little Dorrit.

Born in the Marshalsea Prison, Amy knows little of the outside world. Her father, Mr. Dorrit was incarcerated before she was born, on a debt that probably could have been paid and never was. A gentleman, he holds himself above the other prisoners, and is there so long, he is considered the Father of the Marshalsea. Many of the prisoners and visitors leave little monetary tributes for him when they call. Though her father, sister Fanny, and brother Tip are larger than life, it is Amy who is heart and soul of the Dorrit family. She works hard to take care of her loved ones, finding work for Tip, arranging for Fanny to have dance lessons so she can be a professional dancer on stage, being a constant companion to her father, and supportive of her uncle who looks in on them from time to time. Amy takes it upon herself to find work outside of the Marshalsea to help supplement her income – however, it is done without her father’s knowledge. After all, Mr. Dorrit is a gentleman and she is a gentleman’s daughter – employment is beneath them.

Amy ventures out into the world, and does needlework for Mrs. Clennam, and acts as a sort of companion. A woman rendered disabled who ascribes to a severe form of Christianity, she rarely has a kind word for anyone, including her son. However, towards Amy she is civil and respectful and the arrangement works out. Towards her son, Mrs. Clennam is harsh, cold, and unloving. The whole house is a dark mystery – one that Amy doesn’t seem all that concerned in solving. Her only interest in taking care of those she cares about – the world outside the Marshalsea matters little to her. When her path crosses with Arthur Clennam, who has lately returned from China, he becomes convinced that his family somehow did the Dorrits wrong and he sets about to putting everything right. Again, Amy has no interest in changing anything. Despite her meager circumstances, she is fairly content with her lot. Arthur becomes a friend to her, one that advocates for her and her family and it isn’t long before she falls in love with him. Her feelings don’t seem to be returned. He, who is twice her age, views her as a child and would never presume to think of her in that respect. When he learns of a young man, John Chivery, from whom Amy Dorrit refuses a marriage proposal, Arthur attempts to bring John and Amy together.

Part of the truth is soon revealed – Mr. Dorrit is on the receiving end of a lost fortune from distant family. His debt is soon paid and he resumes his position as a gentleman. He intends to take his whole family to Europe, to shake off the taint of the Marshalsea. The years there will be forgotten, never mentioned, and any ties are duly cut. This includes cutting ties with Arthur Clennam. Amy is reluctant to go, she wants to stay and most of all, she wants to remain friends with Arthur. Despite her family’s disapproval, she maintains a correspondence with Arthur, where we are able to hear her fully without being overshadowed by someone else. She makes the best of her time in Europe, and does try to follow her family’s wishes by obeying the etiquette lessons taught by new companion, Mrs. General. It isn’t easy – she has to change the way she dresses, how she speaks, what she calls her own father… Amy often feels out of place in this new, genteel world, and slips up by taking care of others. Whether it’s doing needlework for her family, or befriending a mutual friend of Arthur’s in Italy, she is often called out and lectured. Only when her uncle intervenes on her behalf, does her family lighten up on their harsh treatment of her.

As quickly as their ascension into high society, the Dorrit’s fall from it. Mr. Dorrit suddenly falls ill and dies, and his death is soon followed by his brother’s. To make matters worse, it is revealed that Mr. Dorrit had invested the Dorrit fortune with a banker who lost it all. Once more the Dorrits are poor – not that Amy cares. She returns to London to learn that Arthur is now incarcerated at the Marshalsea for he lost everything and bankrupted his partner in business. In his lowest moment, Amy pursues him and he realizes he loves her too.

As I said, Amy is not your average heroine. Most would rejoice at being elevated from an impoverished position. Not Amy – wherever she is, she works to find contentment, even when she is somewhere she doesn’t want to be. She practices patience with those who don’t always deserve it (Mr. Dorrit, Fanny, and Tip). She shows love and compassion to all, whether she living at the Marshalsea or living in Italy. She offers forgiveness to Mrs. Clennam, who we learn withheld an inheritance that was due to Amy Dorrit. Her source of personal happiness, her unconditional love for others, her devotion to caring for her loved ones, and finally her willingness to forgive is a mark of her Christian faith. Throughout the book hints are dropped about her beliefs – it’s never overwhelming and only mentioned when necessary. But it works without being preachy.

Amy Dorrit fully embodies 1 Corinthians 13:4-7: “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” Amy’s Christianity is based on love, which is a direct contrast to Mrs. Clennam’s which is based on fear. Amy Dorrit and Mrs. Clennam worship the same God, yet couldn’t be more different. In the end, it is Amy who finds true happiness and freedom by staying true to herself and to her faith.

What do you think of Amy Dorrit? Have you every read “Little Dorrit?” Or watched the amazing Andrew Davies adaptation?

[virtualcarrot]

[KKIR] Pen on paper - part 7

[Ao3] [Part 6 on tumblr]

Over the last month of the course, a bout of profound homesickness strikes Iruka again. He’s tired of the constant mist seeping through his clothes. He's tired of the verticality, tired of the blocked horizon. He's even tired of the sea salt in the air. He yearns for the smell of bark and leaves and sun-warmed grass.

He hasn't gotten a reply to his most recent letters to Kakashi and Naruto, either. Kaya keeps giving him increasingly amused looks whenever he drops by for news only to slump away in disappointment.

“What's eating you?” Nobuko asks, sidling to his side.

He holds back for all of two seconds, and short-lived ones at that.

“I miss home.”

“Home, hm?”

“Don't start.”

She cups a hand against the wind and snaps her lighter. Her cigarette doesn’t keep her from giving a soft scoff.

They’re nearing the peak of Spring here, which would make for a lovely spectacle if not for the fact Kiri’s vegetation is mostly moss. It’s a stark contrast to the height of Konoha’s bloom, whose many flowers should soon start to shrivel in announcement of the nearing summer. In this season, the slightest breeze will cast dried up petals around the village over there. Back when he was a teacher, Iruka used to sweep a full dustpan of them every early morning that he aired out the classroom.

It’s been a while since he’s spent May away from his parents’ grave.

He shakes his head and forces a smile. “I’m distracted. Sorry.”

Nobuko flicks away a clump of ash.

“For what? Don’t take everything so seriously. Anyway, what’s your preferred flavor of cake?”

“Excuse me?” he asks, pricked with suspicion.

She sucks in smoke like her lungs can’t go without. “Made you think of something else, didn’t it?” It leaves her mouth in billowy threads while she speaks. “So. What is it?”

He narrows his eyes at her. She doesn’t provide any more insight.

“I don’t know, strawberry?”

“Uh,” is all she says in response.

Iruka spends the following weeks in a state of high alert but the days come and go without any ambush and he settles down.

In truth, he has better things to worry about. Masato has eased up on the snide little comments but he’s also increased the feedback. It’s not nice, it’s never kind, but it’s exacting and pertinent and has tripled Iruka’s workload. Brushing up on his theory the night before the VP exam two years ago doesn’t compare; he hasn’t crammed this much since he first prepared for the teaching exam at the Academy ages ago. Even Ryo’s eyes have started going crossed from their sessions in the library, where Toru and Nobuko now claim old age and leave them to their late devices.

Mariko, the librarian, has pityingly granted them an exception to the ban on drinks on site, provided their desk’s not carrying any of the books under her care. They make an unconscionable use of it.

She kicks them out at closing time.

*

On the last week-end of May, Iruka goes on a hunt for his last missing souvenirs. He’s already gone through a few places over his stay but there are still a few people left to check off his list that he'd like to get done with.

The apothecary greets him with now familiar curtness, although this time it’s followed by mild disappointment to learn of the soon-to-be departure of a regular client.

“Got what you came for, I suppose,” he mutters, whole face scrunched up as he gathers Iruka’s purchases.

As an olive branch, Iruka offers the account of his hurdle with the chakra-numbing balm, which seems to fully break the ice. The old man lets out a delighted cackle and proceeds to ring up the sale through a long string of chuckles. By the time he’s done, he’s still hiccuping. He walks Iruka to the exit with a hand to his back and an additional assortment of incense sticks. On the house.

He’s alright, Iruka thinks, a bit wistful to realize it's the last time he'll experience this particular brand of surliness.

Akitaro and a few others find him in the streets just as he’s about to make his way back. Somehow, Iruka fails to argue his way out and gets dragged away on a few more errands. He’s rarely been this aggressively socialized with.

When they finally make their way back to the hostel at the end of the afternoon, their wallets are much lighter. Iruka’s already planning the seal he’ll have to use to pack. Summoning spaces are not his specialty but he should be able to manage.

They step into the hostel to the sight of a single crooked Happy Birthday banner. Kyoko tries to walk right out but Akitaro blocks the way, while Kousuke looks cautiously hopeful he might be included in the lot.

“Gemini season,” Nobuko mutters to Iruka.

“Right. Thanks for the heads up,” he whispers back, dry as the desert.

She snorts. “I gave you one. Learn to read between the lines.”

Kaya jumps out from behind the counter before Iruka figures out a retort. “Thank the gods that you guys are back! I didn’t know what to do about the cakes!”

Sure enough, as they relocate to the common room, they find that the heat has started softening the abundant buttercream on display on the central table. A bunch of lumpy birthday candles are lit and blown somewhat perfunctorily, then slices are cut to be passed around on the hostel’s bland tableware.

As far as red berries cakes go, this one is both lacking in fruit and cloyingly sweet. It’s also such a kind gesture that Iruka can’t find it in himself to mind. Going by Kousuke’s delight, Iruka assumes this one was picked according to both their tastes. Kyoko has been sticking to the dark chocolate alternative. Iruka considers having a taste of it too, out of curiosity. There’s more than enough to go around.

“Here,” Kaya says, dropping a parcel right by his elbow. It reads: ‘please, do not deliver until the 26th’. “Do you know how hard it was to wait for today to give it to you?”

“My birthday’s tomorrow,” Iruka says inanely.

“Keep it for tomorrow, then,” she retorts, already moving on to Kyoko and Kousuke.

While Kousuke hoots in greeting, Kyoko sinks in her seat like she’s attempting to melt away from the whole fuss. Both of them open their mail right then and there, though, so Iruka does too.

He finds letters, cards, birthday wishes from all over Konoha, from Teuchi and Ayame, to Kotetsu and Izumo, to Konohamaru, Udon and Moegi, and Hiroaki and the teachers at the Academy. Even his colleagues from the mission and report desks sent word. Naruto’s enclosed a new drawing from Boruto, along with a family picture. Hinata’s belly has grown noticeably in Iruka’s absence, an observation that brings a tight pang to his chest. His eyes threaten to blur on their greetings and well-wishes.

There’s a package at the bottom of the parcel.

The gift wrap gives easily, revealing a seamless wooden case. It opens on a pillow of silk and a gorgeous calligraphy set, the likes of which Iruka’s only ever seen under glass display. Even without touching it, he can hear the gentle, barely there whisper of passive chakra from the inkstick.

He finds Kakashi’s message folded on the bright-dark inkstone.

Dear Iruka-sensei,

I understand you’re too modest to indulge but I’m differently inclined. If you must really look for a reason to accept this gift, take it as an investment in the future of Konoha. But also know that it’s deserved. Happy birthday.

I hope to hear from you in person soon,

Kakashi.

Ryo picks that moment to set a pristinely wrapped furoshiki on the table and Iruka has to lay his forearm across his eyes to hide. Somebody cheers--he thinks it’s Akitaro--starting a chain of other cheers and awws. 

He grins between the tears.

*

For their last day, Masato gives them free rein to create and test their seals. They spend the morning designing concepts and shouting ideas over the tables. Masato even deigns to walk around the room and share pertinent advice.

Somewhere around mid afternoon, he makes them retreat to the furthest desks. He disengages the most reactive defenses of the room, pushes his desk to clear space on the dais, and starts calling them up one by one to take up the stage.

Akitaro locks a tiny paper crane in a summoning space. It takes him a few tries before he gets it back, along with a little tweak to the left leg of a kanji, but the fact he successfully set up a pocket dimension with a simple three-nodes earns him a grunt of approval.

Kyoko summons an unimpressive puddle with a very impressive use of a notebook-torn sheet and a commonplace pen.

The sight of Kousuke’s final seal has Masato rolling his eyes and grabbing a fresh brush of chakra ink. He still gives the go ahead. Sure enough, Kousuke brings forth such an unstable cloud of sandstorm that Masato has to disrupt the seal with the slash of a line before it swallows the whole room. Far from contrite, Kousuke looks smug for the next hour or so.

All of their teeth crunch on grains of sand for the next hour or so.

After him, Yumi, Shigeyasu, Tetsu, Yoko and Hiromi all present their work with varying degrees of success until, finally, they reach Iruka's group.

They all turn to Ryo.

“Well, go on,” Nobuko says.

Ryo sets nir jaw and climbs onstage.

The seal ne lays down is a variation on nir miserable attempt from weeks before, this time drawn on strong chakra paper and with the appropriate ink. It's been edited with additional factors and improved following Masato's begrudging feedback and nir own research. This time again, ne pricks nir finger on a kunai.

An ice phoenix soars over them, gleaming and majestic, to the slow, otherworldly beat of crystal wings. Its multifaceted feathers shine like diamonds catching light. The beak opens on a silent eagle cry.

It goes as far as the first row of tables before it starts suddenly melting. Masato dispels it so it doesn't drench the room.

“Impressive,” he says with no inflection. “You used Tora to give it life, correct?”

“I… Yes. And, uh, a lightning trigger.”

Masato swats the air. “Irrelevant. The problem is in the wording. Your Tiger is too strong, it takes over Bird and Dog. Next time, empower them. And leash the Tiger. Next!”

Next is Iruka's seal, which makes Masato scoff.

“I'm not testing that. Any volunteers?”

Unexpectedly, there is. Toru gets up with a placid smile and joins them on the dais, considering the scroll Iruka’s placed between them on the floor.

“Do I stand in the middle?”

The middle is the culminating intersection of a wide amount of nodal links, each sewing in and out of the eight Yin releases arranged on a circle around it. Three successive curves of text enclose the result, adding a Konohan flourish to the Kiri style seal.

“No need,” Iruka replies off-handedly, making the hand signs for a fire release.

The chains of the binding seal jump to Toru, loop around his ankles and drag him right over the scroll and to the center of it.

“Uh,” Toru says, unperturbed through sheer intellectual curiosity.

He tries to move and finds that the trap will only allow a vague shift of his feet. He looks at the seal under him and inspects it more closely, turning awkwardly to get a better look at the writing behind.

Iruka and Masato approach.

“Is it holding?” Iruka asks, frowning in concern.

“It'd seem so,” Toru replies.

“If you'll allow me,” Masato starts saying, before turning his brush around and pushing Toru with the tip of the handle. Toru’s feet don't budge. “Hm.”

Together, Masato and Iruka circle the seal, looking for a weakness.

“What about here?” Masato asks, pointing the handle at a space in the links of two Ying seals to the Northwest. He draws a path in the air until the first line of text, weaving between the characters until he reaches the second, and then third line, all the way out of the labyrinth of ideograms. “Try it.”

The seal casts discontent ripples at the prod of Toru’s chakra. Iruka feels the heaving of disturbed power, then it stops. Much worse, what follows is the subtle, methodical levering of a layer of chakra, and then another, until Toru shifts like he’s slipping through the cracks in a rock. He shuffles sideways in tiny, unhurried steps, not even breathing hard by the time he gets all the way out.

Masato purses his lips and darts a dismissive look at the Konohan lines of sealing.

“Interesting. But you rely too much on failsafes.” He gestures to the central circle of Yin release nodes. “You need to build up your core. The links are unstable. Next!”

Before anyone else can stand, Toru draws a scroll out of his pocket and summons a smokescreen to hide behind. It's nothing showy, nothing impressive, but unlike a common hand jutsu it's self-sustained until the ink runs out of power. Nifty.

Masato seems to agree because he gives a little nod. Toru dissipates the smoke and, when Nobuko doesn’t show any interest in moving from her seat, another student takes her slot.

Back at the table, Iruka gives her a curious look.

She shrugs. “Not one for showmanship, me.”

Ryo stares up at her with wide, shiny eyes. “Come on, show us.”

“You think I don't know what you're doing, there?” she says with a sniff, but when the last student’s done with their demonstration she stomps up to the dais with her bag.

She pulls three blank sheets of chakra paper and two small hourglasses that she sets on Masato's desk, and holds out a hand for his brush. He gives it up with a surprising lack of argument.

With it, she traces the sign of a Tora release that she ties up on itself with a single thread. The process gets repeated on each sheet until she's left with three seemingly identical seals.

She slaps them side by side on the floor and points at each in succession, staring at the audience. “Instant, thirty, sixty. Can you get the hourglasses?”

Masato moves to the desk, hands at the ready over them. She triggers the seals.

The first pops in a flash of short-lived fire. They wait. Right around the last grains of sand of the smallest hourglass, the second seal bursts into similar flames. Thirty seconds later, so does the third.

“How did she time these, they were the same seals, weren't they the same seals?” Ryo whispers while Iruka nods quickly in agreement.

Nobuko finishes the demonstration with an ironic little bow, picks up her things and moves back to her seat.

“That was so cool,” Ryo tells her in all earnestness.

Nobuko gives a one-shouldered shrug. Underneath her pout, though, Iruka catches the spark of self-conscious self-satisfaction. That makes him smile.

At the end of the session, Eri walks in. She gives a short speech about nurturing inter-village community ties and common history, that she wraps up with thanks for their presence. Masato follows that with a similar sentiment. He doesn't even sound as insincere as Iruka would have thought, especially for a man seemingly holding a grudge over the defection of Iruka’s ancestors.

Eri then announces a farewell party at the hostel, where they all flock together the moment they’re done packing their brushes and papers.

Kaya’s only just finished setting up the dining room when they arrive, platters of catering food overflowing with fried shrimp, crab claws, marinated fish filets and grilled cuttlefish. Side dishes are on offer too, filled with wakame and rice and potato salad and a lighter broth to cleanse the palate. Further down, golden dorayaki, thin slices of fresh mangos and purin are already on display for dessert. Iruka knows for a fact that the hostel hasn’t seen food this enticing in at least three months.

In spite of all that, the main aftertaste of the evening remains bittersweet.

*

They part in small groups over the following days. Akitaro gives every single one of them a wide-encompassing hug with the full range of his considerable frame. Much more reserved, Kyoko sticks to curt nods and handshakes of acknowledgement. Ryo cries nir little heart out in a way such that Nobuko has to avert her eyes before she gets started too. Even Kaya looks glum to see them go.

Iruka doesn’t bother hiding his own grief, just accepts the touches and pats with wet cheeks and a grin until he feels his smile crack under the focus of Toru’s gaze. Then Toru gives him a gentle, grandfatherly hug, and Iruka holds him back like he wishes he could still hold his father, his mother and Hiruzen, tight and close and so terribly fond, because he misses them all so much and he already misses Toru and Ryo and Nobuko.

He apologizes sheepishly afterwards and Nobuko sends him one of those scathing, terrifyingly pointed little jabs of hers over it. In for a penny, in for a pound: he hugs her too, just for that.

“Send me any of your fancy new jutsu formulae, alright? So I can sell them in my shop,” she tells them once he releases her.

They promise to stay in touch.

Yumi announces she’s staying longer to make use of Kiri’s library, so Iruka leaves without her. He and some of the students going the same direction join a caravan, that swells and thins over the stopovers.

At the crossroads between Konoha and Iwa, Iruka's the one who breaks away. This time, Ryo manages to contain nir tears, but only barely. Iruka ruffles nir hair as goodbye and shoulders his bag.

He finishes the trip alone.

*

It's the early afternoon when Iruka reaches Konoha. Summer’s just around the corner and the air’s warm and humid. At this time of day, the gates sit wide open in welcome, with only a few sentries to watch over them. They stand a bored, sluggish vigil, slumped against the wall.

One of the guards perks up at Iruka's approach.

“Is that--Oi, Iruka-sensei! Welcome back!” he shouts, waving his arms in wide arches over his head to draw Iruka's attention.

Iruka recognizes him as one of his former students, from Konohamaru's year.

He breaks into a smile. “Ah, Takehiko! It's good to see you!”

The other guard gives Iruka a simpler nod in greeting, which he answers with one of his own.

Invigorated by the new arrival, Takehiko all but hops in place until Iruka gets within talking distance, at which point he lets loose a barrage of questions about the trip. Iruka answers a few, if only for the sake of dispelling the worst of the misconceptions Takehiko’s operating under--not everybody in Kirigakure has shark teeth, for starters, no, Iruka wasn't made to eat live octopi, and the mist isn't, in fact, stained blood-red.

But he's tired, sweaty and sticky and bug-bitten, and his feet hurt and his back aches for a proper mattress, so he excuses himself with promises to share more at a later date and doesn't linger.

The streets of Konoha feel familiar in a distant way, a layer of nostalgia blurring the lines of his recollection. He hasn't even been gone for four months, but enough details have changed, little things he wouldn't have thought twice had he been present for the fact, that his mind does double takes as he walks by. The unsteady balcony on Mill Street has gotten some repairs. The fishmonger’s front got a fresh new coat of paint. A block from there, the thrift shop Iruka used to get clothes from as a teen stands closed for renovations.

Familiar faces greet him, which he greets back.

The key to his apartment slots in like he was never gone. The door unlocks like an old friend. And then he's home.

Someone must have aired it before his arrival because there's almost no must in the air, just the familiar scent, as unique as a person's, that marks a place. It's the smell of the walls, of the varnished floorboards, the angle at which the sun hits the shutters, and, still lingering, of traces of his own, in this place that hasn't seen enough others to erase it.

In the kitchen, he finds an assortment of freshly bought cans of yakitori, oden and curry--Izumo--and a cheap pack of various instant noodles--Kotetsu. Iruka’s not hungry yet, but he can just imagine the argument that took place between the two over the selection. It makes him smile.

He freshens up in the shower, enjoys the luxury of slipping into clean clothes straight from his dresser.

Somewhere past four in the afternoon, he finally crashes in his own bed.

[newwwwusername]

The Owl House - Hunter & Darius - Bad Things Happen Bingo Prompt : Loss of Hearing

@badthingshappenbingo

Warnings : Unknowing ableism from a parental figure (as in- getting snippy with someone over something that stemmed from their disability because you don't know they have a disability), references to past child abuse

Chronology : During the finale time skip

Headcanons : Hard of Hearing!Hunter, AuDHD!Hunter

Author's note : While I do have some very minor hearing loss, it's not nearly to the point where I would be considered Hard of Hearing or Deaf so if any of you are and I get anything wrong, feel free to comment any criticisms so I can do better in the future 🙏

Hunter never had the best of hearing from jump, much to Belos' annoyance, and it only got worse after a particularly bad incident in which Belos had sliced one of his ears. On top of the missing chunk of flesh, his hearing in that ear had also taken a bit of a beating since some of Belos' goop had gotten within his ear and punctured his ear drum.

As he got older, his hearing only grew worse and worse, which wasn't exactly ideal by any means, especially considering his constant need to be alert and attentive due to his duties as the Golden Guard.

But he wasn't the Golden Guard anymore, and Belos could no longer punish him for his hearing problems. However, that didn't make the fear go away.

So, when Darius got a bit annoyed at him over not doing the dishes while he was out- He'd asked Hunter to do them on his way out the door, but the blonde simply hadn't heard him- The boy was understandably a bit distressed.

"Hunter" Darius said a bit grumpily as he walked back into the living room where the boy was innocently playing a game on a human device known as a Game Boy Advance.

"Yes, Darius?" Hunter asked, immediately pausing his game and setting the device to the side. Darius' demeanor was one of someone who was disappointed, possibly even a bit mad, and Hunter had to swallow down his fear as he realized this.

"Why is the sink still full of dirty dishes?" Darius asked, annoyance clear. On a better day, he would've been more gentle, but he'd had a long day at work and really hadn't wanted to do the dishes when he got home, which is why he'd asked Hunter to do them before he left, but now he would have to do them anyway since it was too late for Hunter to do them at this point.

Hunter's heart sank. He didn't know Darius had wanted him to do the dishes. Was it just expected and this was another unspoken expectation he didn't know of or had his hearing failed him again? Either way, it didn't matter because Darius seemed pretty ticked off...

"I'm sorry" Hunter said, hoping it wasn't too obvious how his body had gone rigid. "I didn't know I was supposed to"

"I told you when I was leaving" Darius told him, still clearly annoyed. "Were you not paying attention?"

"I..." Hunter trailed off and swallowed thickly. The rational part of his brain knew Darius probably wouldn't beat him for saying this, but that fear never truly goes away. "I didn't hear you..."

"Sure, Hunter" Darius sighed. "Well, it's too late in the night for you to do it now anyway" he continued. "Just go to bed- And leave that damn video game machine out here"

"Yes, sir"

----------

By the next morning, Darius had mostly forgotten the whole ordeal but Hunter was still incredibly on edge.

"Hey, kid" Darius said from the kitchen as he made breakfast. Hunter had been intently watching him to make sure he didn't miss anything that was said, but Darius happened to be turned the other way in this particular moment. "Did you move the butter?" he asked.

When he got no response, he turned to the blonde with a slightly annoyed expression. Hunter swallowed. Oh no, he thought. I missed something and now he hates me and he's gonna disown me, and-

"Are you okay?" Darius asked, noticing how scared the kid looked.

"I'm sorry" Hunter said, and Darius swore tears were forming in the boy's eyes. He quickly dropped what he was doing and rushed over to the table to see what was going on with his kid. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to ignore you"

"I didn't think you were" Darius soothed. "I know you have trouble paying attention sometimes, so-"

"No, that's not it" Hunter cut him off, internally cursing himself for speaking out of turn. Darius frowned.

"I'm all ears, kid" he told the boy. "What's going on?"

"My hearing is really bad" Hunter told him, his eyes shut tight as though he was expecting to be hit. Darius' frown deepened.

"Oh" he said. "Wait, why are you only telling me this now?"

"I didn't want you to get rid of me..."

"Why in Titan would I get rid of you for something like that!?"

"Belos would always get so mad at me for not hearing him" Hunter said and Darius felt anger boil under his skin, though not towards the kid. "I thought if I just paid close enough attention, it wouldn't ever have to come up and you wouldn't hate me for it" he explained. "But then I missed the dishes, and now whatever you just asked, and I..." he trailed off, tears beginning to spill from his eyes. "I've failed"

"Oh, Hunter..." Darius sighed. "Can I hug you?" he asked, getting a small nod in response. He wrapped his arms around the now-crying teenager and slowly rubbed his back in a soothing motion. "You haven't failed" he told the boy earnestly. "I'm sorry I was so harsh last night about the dishes. I didn't know"

"Sorry..."

"No, don't apologize" Darius told him. "I know now, so I'll make sure we're on the same page about everything from now on, okay?" A nod. "Hey, maybe we can even try to learn sign language together"

"You don't hate me?"

"Of course not" Darius replied, hugging the grimwalker just a bit tighter. "I could never hate you, Hunter"

"Oh..." the blonde muttered. "Oh" he said again, only his tone was far different this time. Darius began to smell smoke. "I think breakfast is burning"

"Oh, shit"

Do not repost on other platforms!! I'll repost this to AO3 under the same username

[villianousrexx]

If you're interested in a DND aligned fantasy romance, check out The Church of the Returned!

All writing here is mine and mine alone, and does not originate from AI.

The prologue is behind the cut :]

738 AW (after war)

"Will this guide him true?" a squirrel chattered nervously. The owl looked down at him with seeing eyes, stretching her wings to imitate thoughtfulness. She looked at the large stone building, through the gaudy window, and at the teenaged tiefling. The owl could see him clearly through the foliage of the tree they sat in, one of the many reasons she loved this form so dearly. She felt the wind gently press her feathers against her form.

"Ideally." She said curtly. She was willing to deal with Aurom long enough to guide the boy, but otherwise…

"He should wake up by now… Does he even know how to travel?" He was moving to wring his hands together, quite the feat in his current form.

She wished to taste squirrel.

"Regina, can you hear me-"

"I can hear you." She growled. Covers rustled as the boy's eyes fluttered open, face twisting into a grimace.

"Oh- he's awake…" The tiefling- no, the Heir- flung a pack onto his bed, searching his room for things to put in it. His claws looked too heavy for his hands as he grabbed a few books and a knife.

"Does he know what to pack?" Regina didn't answer. The sun had yet to rise, yet she listened intently for movement around the house. The large manor kept creepily silent, to Regina's pride. She cast something minor to ensure the help would wake up late but checking never hurt.

The Heir seemed to abandon his pack - Did she make him too anxious to leave? - instead rushing out the door into the corridor. Without a level of magic, he certainly would have alerted multiple staff members.

"If you're so worried, why don't you follow him?" She kept bloodlust from her voice as best she could, but the squirrel seemed frightened.

"Right-" He scampered down the tree.

There was a storm brewing inside the Heir's head. He stomped down familiar family corridors, whipping his tail and shaking his head. A handful of thoughts ran over and over in his mind-

If he stays trapped, he can fight. If he can fight, he'll fight me. If I fight, I die.

Aurom could smell the anger, sweet as panic, emanating from the tiefling. The boy didn't realize he was being followed. Why did we even choose him? Regret panged in the small squirrel's chest as his little claws scraped against the stone.

If it stays trapped, it can fight. If it can fight, it'll fight me. If I fight, I die. Regina did well, the Heir's nightmare lasted him well through waking hours. The dream showed him what could have happened- The Guard fighting and winning against a treacherous opponent, healing just well enough to kill the Heir. Sweat beaded on the teifling's forehead as he neared the dungeons.

If it stays trapped, it can fight. If it can fight, it'll fight me. If I fight, I die.

The wooden door slammed against the stone wall before Gabriel stomped through the dungeons, pale from fear. He had never been this close to the devil of a creature. Most of the cells were empty, save for the very last one. Gabriel could feel its presence, the air suffocatingly damp. Is this really necessary?

A flash of red glistened before him, moonlight slicing in from adjacent cells. Bricks laid where a window used to be.

Gabriel forced himself to meet the cell bars before standing frozen, peering at the human. The human looked back with eyes that seemed to sparkle crimson. It was curled in the corner, sleeping with only its body heat to keep it warm.

Red blood spattered against the cell walls, a constant reminder of what Gabriel has seen this creature do. He didn't want to think of it.

His hands felt numb, static flowing down to his claws as he flexed his fingers. The human raised to its feet- Gabriel was sure it was much taller than it was, but… The human's head reached about Gabriel's shoulders. Moonlight shone through golden hair as the creature stepped forward. Its eyes carried no bloodlust, they held nothing at all. Any trace of a soul it might have once had had been long since beaten from the thing. It looked as if he could kill Gabriel where he stood if it wanted to.

Before Gabriel could second-guess himself, the cell's lock was shredded. The pain of dragging his claws against the metal shook his fear.

The human stretched a lithe hand through the bars, throwing aside the broken lock and pushing open the cell door. The creature was beautiful like the euphoria of adrenaline or the bright light one sees as one dies.

"T-Thomas." Gabriel stuttered its name, fear open and exposed. The human cocked its head at attention. Gabriel took a breath.

"We're leaving." Gabriel huffed, gaining enough composure to be angry once more. Thomas looked around, not noticing when Gabriel turned tail and started to walk away.

Gabriel stopped.

"Are you dumb? We're leaving." He grabbed the human's wrist, pulled the boy along, and rushed to the armory.

"Regina, this is impossible for this boy to do- he's barely mature enough to dress himself each morning-" He was itching to get out of this form.

"If you thought Gabriel was not right to be Heir, you should have said so. The decision has been made." She hissed. The humanoid pair passed under them, the tiefling dragging the human behind him.

"Will the human kill the Heir? What if-"

"If anything, the Heir will kill the human. We can't have that happen, because… Well, you were right. Gabriel does not know how to travel. That deadly human-" Regina gestured with an outstretched wing, "does. That is your answer."

Aurom fidgeted. In a flash, Regina grabbed the squirrel by the neck between her talons. He squealed in protest.

"Let us hope death does not visit us today."

Aurom squirmed in her grasp. She constricted against the small mammal, forcing him to go limp before she took off after the traveling pair.

[flowerxguts]

@ashthedrawer here’s a little bit of background on Damien and his family relations!

———————＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚……………˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊———————

Early life:

Damien was born into a lower-middle class family with a presumed, but unconfirmed, history of mental illness. For unknown reasons his father (possibly Eliza’s too, possibly not) left when he was barely two years old. This left Damien in soul care of his mother, Lydia, and his older sister, Elizabeth (Eliza).

The family lived in a decently sized home in the outskirts of the small, Northern town, Edenburrow, of the now-radioactive seventy-first sector.

Damien doesn’t recall much from this period in his life, only a few details, such as not being allowed outside much, especially around other kids due to his very conservative, overprotective mother. He reminisces on his once-close relationship to his sister, as she was his only constant companion close in age.

Though his memories are vague and few, Damien still feels a strong connection to his late mother, persistent about how loving and caring she was towards him.

When Damien was nine he walked in on his sister murdering their mother with a kitchen knife. He knew they would fight occasionally, hearing yelling late at night, but knew better than to speak up, and often attempted successfully to drown the noise out. Eliza was not gentle, but it was impossible to believe their usual disagreements would become violent to such a degree.

The neighbors alerted to cops via radio before he ever walked in. Damien admits he did not run, shock freezing any of his survival skills, as he watched his mothers last breaths. Eliza took notice to him quickly, almost immediately crouching to his height to comfort him. She attempted to snap him out of his daze, convincing him to get some things packed, that they were leaving. She resorted to begging soon after, swearing things to him like “I had to do it”, “we weren’t safe with her”, “I was protecting you. This was for you.”

Damien was taken into state custody after his sister was incarcerated, as he had no other family. He testified against Elizabeth at the trial, despite the fact it wrong. He never looked his sister in the eyes after the event, knowing he would feel sympathetic and hatred all at once. Damien was moved around a few foster homes before beginning to be exclusively placed in groups homes as he neared his teenage years.

His mother:

In Damien’s eyes, his mother was someone who loved both him and Eliza unconditionally. She was a saint in her own right who did nothing but love. He adored her to no end and could never understand why his sister did it. He swears he’d never seen his mother wrong her in anyway, recalling his few childhood memories quite fondly. His mother and Eliza would fight occasionally at night, yes, but most arguments would be started by Eliza, who has always exhibited a more hostile nature.

Elizabeth did prove mentally unstable in court, earning her an insanity plea that saved her from a life in prison, but caused her to be locked in a psychiatric ward for all of her formative years. It is unknown whether she gained her damaged psyche through years of her mothers abuse or if she had been born unstable.

Eliza claims on her encounters with Damien that their mother was a manically depressed, devoted catholic with no control over her emotions. She was abusive to both of them in a way that endangered their lives. Elizabeth claims that numerous encounters between her and her mother occurred in which she would comment on how she never wanted them, only keeping them alive because of Gods word. Elizabeth states she feared for her and Damien’s lives some nights due to their mothers sporadic outbursts of physicality. She justifies her actions via promising Damien they were not safe in that house and needed to escape.

She begs Damien to realize that he altered his memories of their childhood due to the trauma. Eliza believes wholeheartedly that the memories Damien created are nothing more than fantasies to soothe himself because he’s unable to face the truth.

Damien swears in Gods name that he is telling the truth about his mother, that she was kind and good, but deep down he truly doesn’t know if he’s right. He tries to believe that Eliza’s damaged mental state is the reason she tells him these things, that she’s only trying to manipulate him further. But in reality, her explanation pieces together why his few childhood memories are so vague.

It’s permanently unknown whether or not Eliza was twisting the story to justify her actions or if it is true that Damien had unknowingly altered his memories due to how traumatized he was.

[rngyis]

one breath.

cw;; none

The silence of the two bedroom apartment settled down like a weight on Ryangyi’s chest. It was an unfamiliar kind of quiet, one that lingered a bit too long after the soft murmur of Minah’s breath had finally quieted, and the click of her baby monitor alerting her of movement no longer echoed through the air. She stood in the kitchen, staring absently at the counter, the dishes she had meant to clean up still piled high. She glanced at the clock, it was just past midnight. For the last few hours, she'd been on autopilot, her memory only serving a blur of diaper changes, nursing, and soothing, a routine now so ingrained it felt like muscle memory. But with the house settled, and nothing urgent left to do, her thoughts turned inward.

Ryangyi had always imagined motherhood would be something similar to this—the late nights, the exhaustion, the endless cycles of feeding and burping and diaper changes. Cleaning spit up, listening to crying, so much laundry. But no one had warned her about loneliness. Not the silence of the house when her baby was finally asleep, but the silence she felt within herself. The solitude she felt even when her brother called every night to check in, when her best friend would facetime to ask how she was doing. Everyone meant well, she had an endless amount of love and support surrounding her, but no one could fill the void her baby seemed to leave.

It wasn't that she didn’t love being a mom—she did, with all her heart. She felt as if this had always been her destiny. But in the moments where her baby drifted into a peaceful and beautiful sleep, Ryangyi found herself second-guessing every decision she'd ever made since deciding to move forward with her pregnancy.. Was she doing enough? Was she getting it right? Her heart ached with the desire to be everything her child needed, but doubts whispered in the quiet corners of her mind.

She moved slowly to her window and gazed out at the dark street, lit only by the distant glow of street lamps. There was no noise from the neighbors, no late-night chatter, no hint of anyone else being awake to share in her overwhelming sense of responsibility. As if on cue, the baby monitor crackled, and she heard the soft whimper that signaled that Minah was stirring. Instinct took over, and she headed to the nursery. Kit gently scooped her baby into her arms, the familiar weight grounding her almost instantly. For a moment, everything faded—the self-doubt, the loneliness, the weight of all the uncertainty. There was only the quiet thrum of her heartbeat and the soft murmur of Minah in the crook of her arm. She hummed softly, rocking back and forth as the baby quickly dozed back off, finding comfort in her mothers arm. 

As the two of them stood there, a wave of exhaustion washed over Ryangyi, and she slowly made her way to the recliner nestled in the corner. She sank into the chair, adjusting Minah carefully in her arms, the baby’s soft, steady breaths calming her racing thoughts, as they always did. For a moment, she allowed herself to let go, closing her eyes as the soothing motion of the chair and the quiet comfort of her baby’s presence melted the tension in her body.

The loneliness, the self-doubt, the constant questions about whether she was doing enough—all of it faded into the background. In this room, it didn’t matter. She had Minah, and that was enough. Slowly, as the minutes passed, Ryangyi’s own eyes fluttered shut, the weight of the day catching up with her. Minah’s soft breathing against her chest matched her own, and the two of them drifted off into sleep, the nursery soon filled with nothing but the tender lull of their shared quiet.

[vocesincaput]

[ CHECK ] ( caleb & abe — maybe he got the signal but found out abe was injured or smth )

even more injury memes

Abraham was always careful. Did his best to keep to himself and work on his farm but always listening out for anything. Interjecting with his father (and other things) when the need would arise whilst keeping an ear out for anything that was going on.

He hadn't done anything to raise anyone's suspicion that he wasn't loyal to the crown.

Or so he had thought.

Late one night, Abraham was walking back from the inn when a group of 4 British soldiers approached him. Cornering him out of the way behind a building and beginning to hurl accusations of treachery and betrayal to the crown. Despite Abe's protests, the men became more vocal before they began to physically attack him. Assaulting him for some time until one of the men pulled out a gun and shot him in the abdomen. The sound of the gun firing alerting multiple people nearby who came rushing with their own weapons.

Once the soldiers were restrained and taken away, Abe had been taken straight to the doctor, his father being alerted. Whilst Abe was being see to by the doctor and surgeon, his father went to Hewlett. Demanding justice for the accusations and assault on his son. As the soldiers could give no evidence to support why they had done what they had, Hewlett ordered them to be court martialled and held prisoner until it could be done.

Once the doctor and surgeon had done what they could, Abraham was taken to his home so that Mary could keep watch and look after him. Both the doctor and surgeon to pay frequent visits.

Because of the assault and the suspicions of the men, Hewlett ordered that Setauket be held in an almost lockdown. No one was allowed to leave or go anywhere unaccompanied. People were questioned and the entire town was under constant watch and scrutiny.

Several weeks passed and Anna hadn't been able to make contact with Caleb at all. Having to stay constantly appeasing the soldiers at the inn and those within her home.

It was almost a month later, with Abe still being in bed at his home, not having woken properly even once, that Anna was able to hang the black petticoat one night. Having left something in the barn purposely earlier that day so that she would have an excuse to go there to retrieve it when she remembered at night.

After the sun had long gone down, Anna made her way to the barn. Convincing the soldier that had been ordered to accompany her that she would only be a few moments, thanking him for being so concerned for her safety, she slipped inside. Looking around for Caleb for a few moments before seeing him.

"I don't have long..." She began in a whisper, glancing to the barn door and then back to Caleb. "All of Setauket is under constant watch. Abraham, he... he was attacked. I... I don't know his condition," she had to pause for a moment as her voice wavered briefly. "But he hasn't been seen outside his home in almost a month. I've invited Mary up to the house for an hour, to see how he and she are. To give her supplies for Abe's care. I don't know how under watch his house might be, but you..." Anna inhaled sharply and stopped speaking when she heard the soldiers voice from outside the door.

"I'm alright, just look.... found it! I just needed your words of encouragement to help me think clearly." She stated, reaching over to pick up the item she had hidden behind a barrel in the day. Looking back to Caleb again. "I have to go..." Anna tried to give a smile but it wavered as she made her way to the barn door and slipped out.

At Abrahams house, Mary was sat beside their bed and wiping his forehead with a damp cloth to sooth her husbands slumber. Telling herself that he was only sleeping. Having not long changed the bandages around his abdomen, Mary pulled the blanket up from his waist to cover him properly. Running a gentle hand over his still slightly bruised chest and over his cheek.

Wiping a tear from her eye, she stood and leant forward to kiss his lips before stepping away from the bed to ease their sleeping son up from his cot and quietly leaving the house to make her way up to Anna's.

Abraham now all alone in his home.

[peppymintdreams]

For those that haven’t voted (and sorry for those that did) here’s a description on our options (I may have spent to much time on Elias’ 😅)

Fifty Shades of Chocolate

Luca and reader have been having bets over the past month with Reader winning nearly all of them and feeling defeated Luca in a last ditch attempt to have at least one win challenges him, he bets that reader can’t go till the end of the day without touching him for a whole day accepting the challenge reader also challenges Luca the same now nervous Luca accepts but being smart Reader has a secret under his sleeve something so addicting Luca can’t keep his hands off of reader

I want to Fuse and become one

Andrew always knew Darling was different, there was something undeniably magical and special about them, after all they were his students who managed to enchant him with their talents and the overall being. Being a mythic was something Andrew didnt expect; it didn't come as a complete surprise, when he learned that Darling was a mythic. What neither of them expected was the discovery of a power darling possessed that could bring them closer than ever before. Darling begins to wonder if they can become more than just two people connected  as their relationship deepens, if they can truly fuse and become one.

A work of art from god

Isaac has somehow finished all his work and is walking through the house and stumbles on pickle contemplating questioning on what there doing pickle mentions how they have art block and they want Isaac to be there Nude reference, Nude was the word the echoed in Isaac’s mind, Nude they said he hesitantly agrees and removes his clothes and watches as Pickle examines his bare body looking up and down taking their time painting every detail of Issac’s fair skin

Coffee

Life under the protection of the wraiths had taken a serious toll on Barista. Every day felt like it was crashing down, and the constant warnings from Elias and Warden to stay aware of their surroundings only added to the mental burden. The looming threat of death weighed heavily, leaving Barista mentally scarred. Unable to sleep, they lay awake at night, haunted by fears of a future where they wouldn’t survive.

One late night, Barista stumbled upon a cup of coffee that triggered a painful memory—the fire at Brewhouse. It had exploded, taking the lives of so many innocent people. Barista could have died if not for Elias, who had saved them. The memory of the coffee reminded them of their old job at the Brewhouse, and why they worked there in the first place. Their boss had been a horrible person, and the things he did left Barista traumatized beyond recovery.

Barista found themselves increasingly addicted to coffee. The drink became more than just a stimulant; it was their way to stay awake, to stay alert, to survive. But as they relied more and more on coffee, their mental condition worsened. Hallucinations crept in, and their behavior became more erratic and risky. Elias noticed the changes and tried to intervene, reminding Barista that self-control was important. However, Barista became hysterical, convinced that coffee was the only thing keeping them sane. It became their lifeline, their only means of survival.

Hello lil minty dreamers I’m thinking about writing something and I want you guys to chose

[motomamita]

Blood, Sweat and Ice.

Part. 2

Pairing: Dark!Eddie Munson x Female!IceSkater!Reader

Summary: Before finishing her off, eddie is determined to fuck her one way or another, even if he has to fake his identity to get it done.

Warnings: smut, +18, false identity, unprotected sex, creampie, mask sex, mentions of drugs, alchohol and blood, violence, idk sis.

A/N: Somewhat inspired by the Tonya Harding and Nancy Kerrigan scandal. Ofc, this is more dark.

Do not translate or copy this!

With a joint dangling from his fingers and several litres of alcohol inside of him, Eddie Munson thought his afternoon was going to end the same as all the previous ones: with him sleeping on the bathroom floor, a puddle of vomit around him and his album favorite playing all the way in the background. However, Nancy Wheeler knocked on his door with a favor she needed from him.

"I just need it to be a scare, like an warning that makes her miss the competition this Saturday." The girl clasped her hands in front of her chest, as if she were praying. "Please, Eddie! I'll pay you a good dough!"

Nancy Wheeler has been ice skating since she was 8 years old. She was good, she tried hard and, just like in school, she was diligent. However, that was not enough to guarantee a place in the competition that would take place that weekend. It wasn't if she had to compete against that girl.

"What do you mean 'a little warning'?" Eddie leaned against the old refrigerator and took a drag on his joint before speaking again. "Do you want me to send her a threatening email? To bug the wheels on her bike? To shit on her doorstep and leave a sign saying 'don't you dare enter the competition, bitch'?"

"Yeah, it could be something like that. As long as it ensures it doesn't steal my first place, it's fine." The calmer Wheeler spoke "Please, Eddie. I know you've done worse in the past, Mike told me about it."

And yes, he had.

Alcohol and drug abuse, along with the fact that he dropped out of high school, had given Eddie a need for constant adrenaline. That adrenaline was obtained by carrying out unlawful and unethical acts. He first started stealing cars that were staying late in the Starmall parking lot. When he didn't get something of value, he had fun breaking the windows and scratching the doors. Then he went on to steal inside houses and spend hours hiding inside them even with their owners going about their daily lives. That unleashed in Eddie the interest to watch people closely without them knowing it. It was amazing how much one could find out about a person just by following him for a couple of hours in his day.

Last but not least illegal were street fights. Eddie had become addicted to them. When he felt boredom eat him up, he'd grab his truck, a couple of beers, and wait outside the town's strip club for some old or young man who wanted to fight him. As the weeks passed, Eddie stopped having opponents and that led him to look for other ways to have fun. He waited for his, now, victims in some dark alley and silently pounced on them. In a matter of minutes he left them almost dying in a pool of blood until some citizen found them the next day. Sometimes he used a weapon like a baseball bat or a heavy wrench that was used to repair his truck, other times he only used his hands.

Soon those acts alerted the entire town to the existence of an individual who beat his victims almost to death. Nobody knew who it was, just a few people, like Mike Wheeler. For that very reason, he wasn't surprised when Nancy visited him days ago in his trailer with a tempting offer, and not just for the money.

As he drove downtown to the ice skating rink that Thursday, Eddie Munson thought about his next victim. He knew quite a bit about her, all kinds of information he could get in a whole day of following her around. He knew her hours, where she lived, who she was dating and her weaknesses that would serve him for his 'mission'.

She was the only child of a middle-class family. Her parents moved to Hawkins when the little girl was 6 years old and continued to live there, with no plans to leave. Her parents both work at the mayor's office in not so high positions but enough to be able to travel every summer to Houston, where she was from. She had practiced ice skating since she was 4 in almost professional rinks, which favored her compared to her other opponents in Hawkins who had to settle for their most basic rinks. She was an excellent skater by nature, Eddie could see as he watched her skate from a dark corner of the place.

From the way her coach gave her instructions, he assumed that this routine full of jumps and somersaults was the one she was going to present on Saturday in front of the judges. Nancy Wheeler definitely had no chance against her.

He stayed until she was the last to leave the track. By that time, the other girls had already left several minutes ago, leaving his target alone for a few minutes on the track.

Walking out, Eddie caught a keen eye of the conversation she and her coach were having as she walked to the locker room. She planned to stay the next day, Friday, a few more minutes on the track to prepare as much as possible for the big day. Her coach, a woman with curly hair and brown skin, agreed with her decision but informed her that she would train alone because she had paperwork to do. They talked a bit about topics not very relevant to him and then they said goodbye. Eddie a few meters behind the coach and prepared to smoke in one of the seats outside the place while he saw how the woman got into her car and headed home.

After 25 minutes counted by the clock, she left the place with her wet hair and her heavy bag. The instant she stepped into the parking lot, a blue Camaro pulled out of the parking lot and came up to where she was standing. Billy Hargrove. Eddie laughed bitterly. She and Billy had been dating for a few months. It was not known if they were already a couple but evidently something was going on between them and it was very intense. They were like 'Beauty and the Beast'. She was a flower, so delicate and fragile, while Billy was anything close to a boundless animal.

Billy grabbed her bag and put it in the trunk and then opened the passenger door for her, like a real gentleman. The couple avoided all physical contact until they reached the lovers' lake, where the show for Eddie began several meters away.

As the temperature rose in the blue Camaro, so did Eddie's truck, who was not only seized by fever but also by jealousy. It had been weeks since he had been with a woman intimately, and years since he had fallen in love with one. Of the girls he had met in high school none had managed to capture his attention, not even Chrissy Cunningham who on more than one occasion had tried to reach more with him. Getting so involved in that skater's life had awakened such a strong desire within him, something he had never experienced before. He wanted to feel her the way Hargrove was doing right now. The memory that he had to hurt her at some point crossed his mind and it made him a little sad. However, his own body called his attention to the growing problem forming in his pants and he had to take charge.

...

That Friday he arrived at the track around sunset and stayed in his truck for a couple of minutes. Soon, the same people who had been yesterday were now leaving the place with their bags in the direction of their cars. He waited a few minutes before getting out of his truck and stealthily entering the area. Luckily for him, despite wearing long hair and unusual clothes, Eddie had always managed to go unnoticed everywhere. That served as an advantage in situations like this.

From a distance he saw her on the track, alone and without the slightest idea that he had been watching her for minutes. She was wearing a light green sweater and black leggings that accentuated her figure. Her white skates kicked up the ice with every hop and turn she took. Eddie smiled seeing her so focused on her routine, as if that were the only important thing in the world.

He walked to one of the vending machines when he noticed how she left the track and collected her things with the intention of going to the locker room. Eddie lowered his gaze and counted 3 times the few coins that lay in the palm of his hand, acting disinterested when she passed behind him and was lost among the aisles. He put two coins in the machine and took out a Dr. Pepper which he drank carefully as he looked around. He was practically alone in the place, him and her. The manager who closed the track was now up on the machine that cleaned the track and which in turn made an annoying and loud noise. It was perfect to carry out his mission. No one was going to hear her scream.

Eddie tossed the can into a nearby trash can and walked purposefully toward the women's locker room. The sound of water falling from the shower led him through the wide space to the area where she was. Eddie stood in the middle of the hallway, motionless until the sound of the water stopped completely. Delicately, he took out a ski mask that he kept in one of the pockets of his jacket and put it on, hiding his characteristic long hair and revealing only his lips and eyes.

She wrapped herself in her towel and got out of the shower. A scream escaped her throat at seeing him there, standing with his face covered and staring at her. The shock lasted a few seconds, seconds in which she hugged her towel even more and looked around in search of something or someone that would help her. Eddie remained silent, forcing her to speak for the first time.

"What... what do you want?" She asked, not quite sure that he would answer her. "Please don't do anything to me." She whispered taking a few small steps back and walking to her clothes on a bench.

Eddie didn't answer and watched her movements carefully in case she tried to run away, although he was going to catch her anyway before she went out the door.

"Aren't you going to answer me?" Unanswered. "Who you are?" Unanswered. "Billy?"

Bingo. She had fallen into his trap.

"Billy, this is not funny. Stop right now." She asked a little less upset but still with her agitated voice.

Eddie had discovered more about the couple than he would have imagined. He knew that her parents didn't want Billy and that's why they saw each other in the lake of lovers after each practice. She knew that Billy was annoyed when she drenched the seats of his Camaro with her wet hair and that's why he placed a towel on the seatback before looking for her. As he also knew how much she liked him to fuck her with a ski mask he had under the seat of his car.

The place wasn't fully lit and Eddie had taken it upon himself to dress in the most similar way to Billy's. So he could easily fool her.

"Didn't you hear me? Wait for me in the parking lot." She removed the towel from her, exposing her body.

Eddie swallowed hard and carefully admired the body of the naked girl in front of him. Now the distance between them was shorter and that made it possible for him to memorize every curve of her body. Soon his member woke up and he knew he had to act fast before someone discovered them.

He approached and hugged her from behind, placing his hands on her stomach, caressing her wet skin. He brought his nose to her hair and discreetly sniffed at her hair and the sweet shampoo she had used minutes before.

"Billy, stop!" She spoke now laughing when Eddie's hands tightened on her hips, digging his fingertips into her skin. "Do you really want to do this now? Here?" she asked as she felt his hard erection against her bare ass.

She turned to look at him, not closing her distance. Eddie nodded and prayed to all the saints that she wouldn't notice the chocolate color of his eyes, very different from Billy's blue. The girl let out a loud sigh and looked at the clock hanging on one of the walls.

"Okay, we have some time."

Eddie didn't wait any longer and pushed her slightly against the wall causing her to let out a moan almost in surprise at the abrupt movement. He knelt in front of her and brought one of her legs up to his shoulder, leaving her pussy available to him. Without thinking twice, he brought his mouth to her clitoris, sucking lightly on it and then massaging it with his tongue. She moaned loudly and then covered her mouth with her hand, she didn't want them to be found out. With his hands he massaged her thighs, supporting her from the way her legs trembled.

"Shit, Billy..."

Gradually, his ski mask began to soak with her fluids, impregnating her sweet taste and aroma into the fabric. Eddie went from the clit to her entry which was already fully weat. He licked her with his tongue, collecting all the fluid and bringing another wave of pleasure to the girl.

He glanced at the clock and knew he had to hurry. As much as he would have loved to continue savoring her, he wanted to feel her even more. He quickly got up from the ground and she had to grab the wall to keep from falling from how weak her legs were. She tried to kiss him but Eddie dodged her, avoiding any contact that would give him away.

"Baby, let me feel you..." she begged with her breath coming fast.

Hearing her, Eddie whispered a 'shit' only audible to him, he was too hot. He approached her again, grabbed her by the thighs and supported her again against the cold wall. For her part, she began to unbutton his pants and lowered the same along with his boxers, releasing his hard cock. Eddie rushed into her before she realized it wasn't Billy. She moaned again when Eddie's member mercilessly entered her and began to move at an accelerated pace. The girl tried to kiss him again but this time Eddie had to place one of his hands on her cheek, moving her head to the side and avoiding as much eye contact as possible.

Eddie's gaze was now fixed on the way her breasts bounced with each thrust, inviting him to taste them, which he did.

"Mmh, so good.." Eddie's wet tongue tasted first her left nipple and then moved to her right, continuing to move inside her.

The sound of their skins colliding and her moans were enough to drive Eddie to the extreme, who had been dreaming of that moment for days. He would have liked to have given her more pleasure, massaging her clits and whispering dirty words to her but it was not the moment. The only thing that was going through his mind was the need to come, even though he knew that he would have to break her legs later.

Eddie did his best not to make a sound but to no avail, the walls of her were sucking him so deliciously that when he came inside her, her name slipped from his mouth.

It took him a few seconds to understand what had happened and how much he had screwed up, all to fulfill his sexual desire. Eddie came inside her and released her without any finesse, letting her fall on the locker room floor. He pulled up his pants and adjusted his ski mask that had moved slightly from all the action. When he lowered his gaze, he met hers, she was scared.

"Who you are?" She whispered on the verge of tears, covering her body with her towel and feeling how the hot semen of that stranger came out of her.

Again Eddie didn't answer and stared at her. So fragile, so defenseless, so corrupted. He smiled slightly as he imagined Hargrove's face when he found out that a son of a bitch had ended up inside his girlfriend, and in the amount of money that Nancy would give him tomorrow after the championship.

She tried to get up from the ground but Eddie stepped on her hard on one of her ankles. The girl screamed that went unnoticed by the manager who was still cleaning the skating rink. Eddie provided more pressure on her, who was trying to get his foot off of her unsuccessfully. He was much stronger than her, it was clear. Eddie looked around for something that would hurt the girl even more, and he found it.

Eddie slipped his foot off her ankle and walked over to where her skating shoes were. The girl tried to stand up and escape but she couldn't, her ankle was already beginning to swell. Eddie grabbed one of the shoes and removed the safety band that covered the sharp metal blade.

She whimpered when she saw how he approached her with her shoe in hand, she knew what was going to happen to her. She had no escape, she was finished.

Eddie gripped the shoe tightly and landed the first blow on one of her legs, cutting her both clean and deep. He repeated his action several times with both legs, making sure not only to make her unable to walk for a long time, but also to leave marks for a lifetime.

When he was satisfied, eddie left the place with a smile and the sweet scent of her on his face.