#but only found 3 chapters available

[sumlaif]

I think he knows sign language... because in the presidential audition when he says there's a couple who are very similiar, it emphasises she looking at his lips, but ALSO *HIM LOOKING AT HER HANDS*.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Let's Play Pretend - 1 | Bucky

Character: Bucky Barnes x singer! Female reader

Summary: You just wanted to hide here and find peace from the mess that wasn’t caused by you. But then, your hot neighbor bothered you. As if that wasn’t enough, the enemies you hated found you too.

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 ,-

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Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Shocking Split! Y/N L/N Dumps Fiancé After Drug Party Scandal

Betrayal Drama! Y/N L/N’s Manager Caught Stealing Millions for Gambling

Where’s Y/N? The Singer Vanishes Amid Scandals!

“I’ve always wanted to be a singer, but I never had the confidence to stand on a stage—until my music teacher, Mrs. Walls. She believed in me.”

Mrs. Walls sighed as she watched your Grammy interview on TV. You looked radiant, glowing with excitement after winning such a prestigious award. As a music teacher with years of experience, she had worked with many talented students, but you stood out uniquely.

At first, you were the shyest student in her class, hardly speaking above a whisper. But what surprised her the most was your natural gift: a perfect pitch. You could write down the notes to a song after hearing it just once, and you picked up musical instruments with ease. She vividly remembered showing you basic piano chords; within minutes, you were playing along effortlessly. The same thing happened when she introduced the guitar.

Her fondest memories were of you standing shyly at the front of the class, yet lighting up when it came to music. She smiled as she recalled your speeches at award shows: “I wouldn’t be here without my music teacher, Mrs. Walls. She was the first person who put faith in me.”

“That’s the last interview she gave us,” the gossip channel host said dramatically, feigning concern. “It’s been three months since anyone’s seen her. Where is Y/N L/N?”

Mrs. Walls frowned and turned off the TV with an annoyed grunt. “Urgh. Gossip vultures,” she muttered under her breath. She grabbed a glass of lemonade from the fridge and walked out to her garden. She noticed her guest seemed lost in thought, staring off into the distance. It had become a habit whenever she was in the garden.

“You’re not thirsty, huh?” she teased lightly, holding the glass toward someone sitting under the garden umbrella.

The person she handed the drink to was none other than the missing singer, Y/N L/N. For three months, the paparazzi had been on your trail, but they had no idea you were hiding here—in the sanctuary of your former music teacher’s home.

Mrs. Walls still remembered the night you appeared on her doorstep, mascara streaked down your face, eyes red and swollen from crying. You looked nothing like the glamorous star she’d seen on television, but instead like a lost child searching for safety.

“I don’t know where else to go,” you had whispered, your voice trembling.

In that moment, she didn’t see the world-renowned singer. She saw the shy, seven-year-old girl who used to sit in her classroom, clutching her music notebook like a lifeline. She hugged you tightly, her heart breaking for you. “Stay as long as you need, my dear,” she had said softly, ushering you inside.

Since that night, you’d been living quietly in her guest room. The once-vibrant star barely spoke, and the silence worried Mrs. Walls more than she let on. She watched as you avoided stepping outside, terrified of being recognized. The only place you seemed at peace was her garden.

She wondered, How long will you keep hiding like this?

You took the lemonade from her hand with a quiet “Thank you” but set it on the small table beside you without taking a sip. Sitting on the bench, you leaned back, tilting your face up toward the sky. The sun was warm, filtering through the leaves of the garden trees. Through your Ray-Ban sunglasses, you watched the golden rays dance, letting them calm your stormy thoughts.

Here, in this little haven, you could pretend the outside world didn’t exist. The judging eyes, the betrayals, the relentless cameras—everything melted away in the sunlight.

You thought back to three months ago, just after wrapping up your world tour. It had been the most significant milestone in your career, a dream come true. Exhausted but proud, you returned home, excited to move on to the next chapter of your life—starting a family with your fiancé.

But the moment you landed, things began to unravel. You’d called your fiancé multiple times, but he didn’t answer. At first, you thought he was busy, but a nagging feeling in your chest wouldn’t go away.

When the truth finally came out, it shattered you. Your assistant broke the news: your fiancé had been busted at a drug-fueled party. Worse, it was also a sex party.

You felt your chest tighten at the memory. That betrayal had cut deep. But it wasn’t the only one.

Later that week, you discovered that your longtime manager, someone you trusted implicitly, had embezzled your money to feed a gambling addiction. Two people you thought you could rely on had betrayed you in the worst ways possible.

One night, overwhelmed and broken, you drove aimlessly, tears blurring your vision. Without any plan or destination, you just kept going until you found yourself parked outside Mrs. Walls’ familiar home.

Even after all these years, she had always been honest with you. When you needed guidance, she gave it without hesitation. If she thought something was right, she’d say, “Go for it, my dear.” If it wasn’t, she’d warn, “No. You deserve better.”

Now, sitting in her garden, you sighed and closed your eyes, letting the sunlight warm your face. For a moment, you could almost believe you were that shy student again before fame and heartbreak had found you.

Mrs. Walls watched you silently, her heart heavy. She wanted to help, but she knew you needed to find your way back on your own.

“How long are you planning to hide here?” she finally asked, her voice gentle but firm.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you opened your eyes and looked at her. “I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Just like this, Mrs. Walls worried about you. You knew you were taking advantage of her kindness, aware she wanted you to step out of your shell, but you weren’t ready. The thought of facing the questions, the prying eyes, and the silent judgment was too much.

Just a little more time, you thought. That’s all I need. And some peace.

But peace wasn’t always easy to come by.

"VROOM!"

A sudden loud roar shattered the tranquility of the garden. The grating sound of a lawn mower filled the air, making you wince. You covered your ears, irritation flashing across your face.

Your gaze turns toward the source of the noise. “It’s already noon. The sun’s scorching hot—what kind of madman decides this is the best time to mow their lawn?”

“Well…” Mrs. Walls trailed off, watching the man seated atop the lawn mower. Her lips pressed into a thin line.

It's her neighbor, a man who had recently moved in. He wasn’t just any neighbor—he was one of her former students. Not from her music classes, though. He’d been one of the troublemakers, a kid who lived on detention slips and second chances.

“Bucky!” she called out, her voice carrying across the garden.

The man paused, cutting the engine. The deafening noise stopped, leaving an almost eerie silence in its wake. He climbed off the lawn mower, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

You squinted, ready to roll your eyes, but then your gaze lingered for a moment longer than you wanted. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his broad chest glistened with sweat. The sun highlighted the sculpted lines of his six-pack, and every step he took radiated an infuriating confidence.

Great, you thought bitterly. Annoying and ridiculously good-looking. Just my luck.

Mrs. Walls met him halfway, handing him a glass of lemonade. “Thank you,” Bucky said, his voice low and smooth.

You let out an exaggerated sigh and rolled your eyes. “You’re welcome for the noise pollution,” you muttered loud enough for him to hear.

He turned, raising an eyebrow at you. “You’re welcome for cutting the grass, princess.”

“Princess?” you repeated, your tone sharp. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re out here ruining everyone’s peace, and I’m the problem?”

He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest, the gesture only drawing more attention to his muscles. “Stop acting like a diva.”

Your jaw dropped. “I am a diva!”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed, taking a long sip of lemonade.

“What rock have you been living under?” you snapped, glaring at him.

He rolled his eyes dramatically, his expression shifting to one of mild exasperation. What you didn’t know was that Bucky wasn’t as clueless as he seemed. For the past three years, he’d been living under the radar, cutting ties with his old life. His job had demanded secrecy, isolation, and sacrifice. He didn’t have the luxury of keeping up with the world, let alone pop culture or celebrity news.

The truth was, he hadn’t recognized you—not as the world-famous singer everyone else seemed to adore. To him, you were just the frustrating woman who had suddenly appeared in Mrs. Walls’ house and made everything more complicated.

But even as irritation bubbled under his skin, he couldn’t help but feel intrigued. There was a fire in you that clashed with his rough edges, and it both annoyed and fascinated him.

For Bucky, Mrs. Walls had always been a comforting presence—a grandmother figure who offered him advice and a safe space to talk. Her home had become a haven. And then you showed up.

Now, that peace was gone, replaced with constant banter and an energy that made it hard for him to stay indifferent.

Mrs. Walls watched the two of you, her lips twitching as if suppressing a smile. Despite your usual quiet demeanor, you seemed to come alive whenever Bucky was around.

“You two are like a pair of bickering children,” she muttered under her breath.

“Excuse me?” you said, shooting her a look.

“Nothing, dear,” she replied with a knowing smile, sipping her lemonade.

Bucky glanced at you, shaking his head. “You know, for someone who wants peace and quiet, you sure have a lot to say.”

“And for someone who wants to mow the lawn, you sure talk a lot for no reason,” you shot back, folding your arms.

Bucky laughed, low and mocking. “This is going to be fun.”

“Fun for you, maybe,” you muttered, turning your attention back to the garden, though your face was still flushed from the exchange.

As he walked away, you couldn’t help but glance at his retreating figure, hating how effortlessly confident he looked. Bucky, meanwhile, shook his head, pretending not to notice you watching him.

Both of you were equally exasperated—and similarly intrigued.

Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin, holding it up between two fingers with a smug grin. “Alright, princess, let’s make a deal. If it lands heads, I’ll keep mowing. If it’s tails, I’ll stop, and you can go back to your precious nap.”

You crossed your arms tightly, narrowing your eyes at him. “I hate this game,” you muttered, watching as the coin gleamed in the sunlight. He always did this—turning everything into some sort of challenge just to get under your skin.

Bucky smirked, clearly enjoying your irritation. “I know. That’s why it’s so much fun.”

Rolling your eyes, you huffed, “Tails.”

He nodded mock-seriously, flicking the coin into the air with practiced ease. It spun rapidly, catching the light with every turn before landing in his palm. He slapped it onto the back of his hand, then slowly revealed the result with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Heads,” he declared, his voice full of triumph.

“Ugh!” You threw your hands in the air, frustrated, pushing off the bench. As you stomped toward the house, the wooden slats creaked behind you, muttering, “I’m getting noise-canceling headphones.”

Mrs. Walls watched you retreat inside, shaking her head with a fond smile. She turned to Bucky, who was spinning the coin between his fingers like a magician showing off his trick.

“You really should stop teasing her,” Mrs. Walls said gently, her tone a mix of reproach and amusement.

Bucky shrugged, slipping the coin back into his pocket. His lips curled into a devilish grin. “Nah�� it’s fun.”

🌷🌷🌷🌷

You peeked through the blinds, trying not to let the soft rustle of the fabric give you away. Outside, Bucky was still chatting casually with Mrs. Walls. He leaned against the handle of the lawn mower, his broad shoulders relaxed, and his expression unusually serene.

How could he be so normal and polite with her, yet every time he spoke to you, it felt like he lived to make you grit your teeth?

You narrowed your eyes, watching him laugh at something Mrs. Walls said. That face… you thought bitterly. What a waste of a perfectly good jawline and those stupid dimples.

Letting the blinds fall back into place with a soft snap, you turned away and headed to your room.

Inside, the space was dim, the curtains drawn tightly against the glaring afternoon sun. The cool, muted light was a welcome contrast to the irritation buzzing in your head. You kicked off your slippers with a little more force than necessary and flopped onto the bed, burying your face in the pillows.

The mattress was soft, and the faint scent of lavender from the room’s diffuser helped ease the tension in your shoulders. But even as you lay there, trying to block out the world, your mind kept drifting back to the smug grin on Bucky’s face and the way he seemed to revel in riling you up.

“Urgh,” you groaned, rolling onto your side and hugging the pillow close. You closed your eyes, willing yourself to forget about him.

Eventually, the steady hum of the ceiling fan and the distant chirping of birds outside began to lull you into a state of calm. Your breathing slowed, and your grip on the pillow loosened. For now, rest was the only thing you wanted—a reprieve from the relentless antics of your maddeningly handsome neighbor.

🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷

The dream came fast and vivid, like a storm. You were running—barefoot, your breath ragged and your heart pounding in your chest. Behind you, shadowy figures loomed, their voices sharp and cruel. The flash of cameras blinded you, their light like fire against your skin. You kept running, your legs aching, but the ground felt like quicksand, pulling you down.

You jolted awake, gasping for air. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly as your heart raced, the remnants of the nightmare still clinging to your mind. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, you saw the dim, glowing numbers: 2:00 a.m.

Sleep felt impossible now. The stillness of the house, once comforting, now felt suffocating. You swung your legs off the bed and walked to the window, pushing it open. Cool air rushed in, brushing against your flushed skin and carrying the faint scent of dew and earth.

“Should I go out?” you murmured to yourself. It was late—no, it was early—and the world outside was likely asleep. It might be safe.

Pulling on a hoodie and sweatpants, you crept quietly through the house. Every creak of the floorboards beneath your feet made your pulse spike, but you pressed on, determined. When you reached the door, you hesitated, your hand resting on the doorknob.

Flashes of the past flooded your mind—the crowd of paparazzi outside your apartment, shouting your name, their cameras clicking incessantly, their relentless pursuit. You clenched your eyes shut and took a deep breath.

“It’s different here,” you whispered, willing yourself to believe it. Slowly, you pushed the door open and stepped outside.

The cool grass greeted your bare feet as you stepped off the porch, the gentle night breeze brushing against your face. There was no one. No voices. No flashing lights. Just silence and the soft rustling of leaves in the dark.

You exhaled deeply, relief washing over you like a wave. One tentative step after another, you left the house, the distance growing between you and your sanctuary.

You wandered toward the park, the faint glow of streetlights guiding your way. The world felt peaceful, and for the first time in months, so did you—until the faint hum of an engine broke the stillness.

You glanced over your shoulder, your pulse quickening. A car was following you, its headlights low but its presence unmistakable. Then you saw it—a glint of metal, the unmistakable outline of a camera lens.

Shit. They’d found you.

Your heart pounded as the car crept closer. Picking up your pace, you started walking faster, then broke into a run.

“Y/N! Where have you been?” a voice called out from the car, loud and intrusive.

You didn’t answer, your breath quickening as you pushed yourself to move faster.

“Have you heard your ex-fiancé has rekindled things with his ex?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. What? Your mind reeled. You hadn’t even ended things officially, and he’d already moved on? That bastard. While you were here, broken and dealing with trauma, he was playing house?

“Is it true you gave money to your manager, knowing about his gambling addiction?”

You stopped dead in your tracks, glaring at the man hanging out of the car window. “No! I didn’t know! Leave me alone, you jerk!”

You started running again, your breath burning in your lungs, your legs aching. Desperation clawed at you as the car followed relentlessly. Then you saw him—a familiar figure jogging under the streetlights.

“It can’t be,” you whispered.

Without thinking, you sprinted toward him, your voice frantic. “Bucky! Help me!”

Bucky stopped mid-stride, his brows furrowed as he saw you running toward him. His routine early-morning jog had just turned unusual. His sharp eyes quickly took in the distress written all over your face. Before he could react, you leaped behind him, clutching the back of his hoodie and crouching slightly to shield yourself.

He stiffened, caught off guard. Then he saw it—a car slowing down, its passenger wielding a camera that kept flashing incessantly. The bright lights blinded him momentarily, and irritation sparked in his chest.

“Hey!” Bucky growled, marching toward the car. The camera flashes continued, and without hesitation, he snatched the camera from the paparazzo’s hands and smashed it against the pavement.

The paparazzo’s jaw dropped in shock. “My camera!” he yelled, scrambling to pick up the broken pieces.

But he wasn’t done. Pulling out his phone, the man began recording. “You’re a dead man! Who the fuck are you? Her boyfriend? Bodyguard?”

Bucky, his irritation mounting, opened his mouth to correct him, but before he could, you blurted out, “He’s my boyfriend.”

Bucky froze, glancing over his shoulder at you. Your grip on his hoodie tightened as you peeked around him, glaring at the paparazzo.

The man in the car stared at the two of you, his phone still recording. “This is going to be front-page news.”

Bucky sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What the hell did you just drag me into?” he muttered under his breath.

Exciting News!

I’m thrilled to announce the release of my new book, Dad, I Can’t Let You Go—a heartfelt collection of short poems about loss, love, and the journey of missing someone deeply. This book is dedicated to my father and to anyone who has experienced the pain of losing a loved one.

Available now on E-Kindle Amazon!

Dad, I Can't Let You Go! <<< Here's the link.

Thank you for your support, and I hope these poems resonate with you.

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[intuitively-her]

You are much happier these days and staying in your own lane. A new cycle will soon begin for you. This new cycle will be all about internal happiness and self-fulfillment/independence. You're officially leaving all the bs behind and moving onto the next chapter. Someone here could be physically moving to a new home. You could be going ghost on some people or just not being as available as you usually are. There is a lot of attention on you right now. Something that you're doing for work is gaining a lot of recognition. You could be working diligently on a project? Or you could be event planning? Someone here is starting to put themselves out there more. You have many people that are in competition with you or over you. You're a hot commodity!⭐

*trigger warning*

You are in the process of healing and trying to move forward from a betrayal. Someone here found out their partner was lying about something serious. Substance abuse could possibly be a factor here. I keep hearing "I thought I knew you". This lie or secret completely shattered your perception of this person. You never thought that they would betray you the way that they did. This could be someone that you've known since childhood. Moving forward from this, you are remaining strong and doing the best that you can. Someone specific here could've traveled recently or will soon. Keep following your intuition and making head over heart decisions. Best of love and luck to you pile 2.🫶🏽

You are officially taking charge of your life. You're finding balance in your life while still juggling many responsibilities. You guys have been busting your ass at work! Someone here could be a content creator. You are on the way to creating generational wealth. Someone here could be pregnant. Your name is being brought up in a lot of conversations right now. I feel like this is at work or some type of community that you're apart of. This could even be on social media. There are many people that want to collaborate with you. They wish they could do it like you. Your work is definitely an inspiration to others in your field.☺️

*ONLY TAKE WHAT RESONATES*

💗Please DO NOT copy, repost, or steal my work! Thanks!💗

*Credits to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more for the text dividers💗

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[ickie]

♡ ... THE SECRET OF US \ CHAPTER ONE ...

pairing ... lando norris x leclerc!reader summary ... fate & it's tendency to stick you & lando together warnings ... alcohol consumption, kissing notes ... it's a little early but i don't think anyone will complain ! more to be explained in the next chapter hehe... feedback is always appreciated & fill out this form to be added to my taglist ! much love <3 ... masterlist ... last chapter ... next chapter ...

your breath hung in the crisp winter air as you exhaled deeply, feeling the cold settle into your bones, taking solace as snow began to fall from the grey sky. abruptly, a hand gripped your arm, pulling you to the side, while another figure brushed past, nearly knocking you off balance.

"what the hell," the words slipped out before you could stop them, your gaze narrowing at the figure who had almost collided with you, then shifting to acknowledge the person who had pulled you out of harm's way.

"sorry!" a british voice called out, but your expression hardened into a scowl.

"are you okay?" your brother's voice cut through the chaos, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. clearly, charles found the near-miss amusing.

"i'm fine," you grumbled, pulling away and shooting a hateful look at lando once more, deciding it was time to head indoors. charles followed, and once inside the foyer, you both went your separate ways.

climbing the stairs, a wave of relief washed over you. you were on a well-deserved vacation with friends and family — and a few acquaintances, though that was beside the point. your room was cozy, reminiscent of something you might have seen on pinterest. after changing into more comfortable clothes and settling onto your bed, you lost track of time scrolling through social media, only realizing it was dinner time when you nearly missed the reminder.

as you hurried to freshen up, the anticipation of a relaxing evening with loved ones filled you with warmth, dispelling the lingering tension from the chaotic moment earlier. a knock at your door interrupted your thoughts, prompting you to peek your head from the en-suite.

"sorry about earlier," a familiar voice said as they entered your room.

"it's alright, truly... i shouldn't have been so distracted," you replied, fiddling with the clasp of a bracelet.

"do you have any idea where we're eating?" you asked, irritation evident in your voice as you struggled with the bracelet. lando approached, taking your wrist gently.

"i think charles made some reservations somewhere," he said softly, clasping the bracelet and lifting your hand to place a kiss on your palm, then winking at you.

you rolled your eyes, feigning a look of disgust before crossing your arms over your chest. without another word to lando, you left the comfort of your room to join the rest of the group. in the living room, charles, pierre, george, and alex stood with their respective partners.

"are we ready?" the question prompted everyone to move, clearly eager to eat dinner and kick off the vacation.

dinner was delightful, conversation flowed, wine flowed even more, and most importantly, you were comfortably full — a bit tipsy, but content. on the drive back with charles and alexandria, you rested your head against the window, watching the snowy landscape that would be your home for the next two weeks. arriving back at the chalet, all you really wanted was to sleep. your belly was satisfied, the wine had begun to take its effect, and your bed called your name, coaxing you to rest.

however, life had other plans, as usual. pierre had mentioned starting the vacation with a bang, which led everyone to scour the chalet for any available alcohol. charles even checked if alcohol could be ordered via doordash, to no avail. somehow, you and lando were volunteered to go to the store and procure what could’ve easily been enough to stock a bar. requests ranged from wine and various liquors to seltzers and mixers, your notes app filled with hastily written explanations of everyone's preferences.

"i'm sending requests for money from all of you," you joked, scowling playfully before breaking into a smile as you grabbed what you hoped was your jacket from the hook. lando followed as you both stepped out into the chilly night air, leaving the warmth of the chalet behind.

settling into the passenger seat of the car, you quickly plugged in your phone. "dibs on the aux," you declared, as directions to the nearest liquor store appeared on the screen.

lando rolled his eyes playfully before he began to drive. "did you notice we’re the only two single people on this trip?" he asked abruptly, causing you to nearly choke on your spit as you tried to stifle a laugh.

"i think you being single here is better than bringing, what's-her-name? she was quite the character," you chuckled, recalling the last time you had seen lando, a brief encounter in the paddock. his girlfriend, or whatever she was, hadn't seemed pleased when you greeted him in passing. carlos had filled you and charles in on all the details after lando confided in him.

lando groaned. "don’t remind me of her. i don’t even know what i saw in her..." he grimaced, his hand dragging down his face.

turning in your seat, you faced lando more directly, an eyebrow raised at his confession. "want to hear something?" you asked, knowing this confession might bring more embarrassment than it was worth.

“back in… early 2021, charles and arthur were both convinced i had the biggest crush on you," you admitted, your cheeks burning as lando burst into a surprised laugh.

"is that why you were banned from the paddock?" he teased, causing you to shake your head.

"yes," you groaned, letting your eyes roll. “i had to convince him i had a crush on danny ric, of all people! i think my options truly, were either him, or alonso… but let’s be honest… who didn’t have a crush on alonso..?” you questioned, a grin on you features.

lando parked the car shortly after, the drive having been brief. "let’s continue this conversation after we've had some alcohol," he joked, stepping out and crossing the car to open your door.

the liquor store was unremarkable, but as you checked out, you couldn't help feeling slightly anxious about what the cashier thought — not that it really mattered, but it did to you.

returning to the chalet, you were greeted with cheers as you entered, everyone eager to get the vacation started, as pierre had said. one celebratory shot of tequila turned into two, then three, and suddenly you found yourself sipping on a rum and coke that was more rum than coke. amidst the chaos, someone had started a fire in the backyard, declaring, "if we don’t use the firepit tonight, are we ever really going to use it?" it might have been george or alex; you weren't entirely sure, as they were inseparable, indulging in each other’s less-than-brilliant ideas.

now, you were wrapped in a blanket outside. with no snowfall, your jacket, sweatpants, and shoes provided enough warmth as you sat by the roaring fire. your drink had been forgotten indoors, a smile gracing your face as you looked around at this group of people who, at this moment, were your entire world.

there was a comfortable silence among the group, everyone clearly feeling the effects of the alcohol they’d been consuming. people began to slowly trickle back inside, claiming they needed to get their beauty sleep. you weren’t too sure who was the first to start the slow exodus, but eventually it was just you, charles, and lando outside. the two men had begun to discuss the previous f1 season, but you were more than zoned out, idly scrolling through your social media feeds since you didn’t necessarily feel like going inside at that moment.

“i love the two of you, truly, but can we talk about anything other than your jobs? you’re on vacation,” you deadpanned, raising an eyebrow as they quickly shut up. the silence that followed made you huff in annoyance.

“the last time you did this to me, charles, it ended in me not talking to you for three days. pick your battles.” you reminded him, hoping to jog his memory of when you were twelve and he had irritated you to the point of a silent treatment that lasted days. maman had eventually insisted you make up, teaching you a lesson about holding grudges.

“wait, you what?” lando laughed, looking between you and your brother.

“she ignored me for no reason! apparently, i was annoying her, so she decided to ignore me. she can deal with arthur, but not me. it was hurtful,” charles lamented, causing you to roll your eyes.

“going to ignore you again,” you grumbled, tightening the blanket over your shoulders. it was starting to get cold.

as he stood up, charles threw a pillow in your direction, nearly hitting you in the head. you stayed silent, shooting daggers at him as he retreated inside, claiming he was half asleep and wasn’t responsible for his actions.

lando stood up after him, reaching a hand out for you to grab onto as you stood. “it’s too cold. i think i’m frozen to the seat.” you looked up at him, a pout taking over your features.

laughing, the brit sat down next to you and wormed his way into your blanket. “let me warm you up. i don’t think sleeping out here would be a good idea.” there was a slight slur to his words, causing you to wonder if you sounded the same.

with lando this close, you unashamedly stared at him. you noted his long eyelashes, pretty eyes, smile lines, and the mole that dotted one of his cheeks. his cheeks were a rosy color, probably from the cold, but that didn’t stop you from reaching up and tousling his hair, messing up the curls that had stayed put for most of the day.

“can i help you?” he laughed, his smile forming a heart shape as his teeth showed.

“no,” you hummed, offering him a smile. “you’re just… pretty.”

your eyes met his, taking in their light color and how they seemed to shift from brown to a dazzling green. his eyes flicked down to your lips before he looked you in the eye again. one of his hands came up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

next thing you knew, you felt the warmth of his lips on yours. warmth filled your body, your belly alive with butterflies as you kissed. you could vaguely taste the remnants of the alcohol he had consumed earlier, and it was delectable. all you could do was want more, but that wasn’t feasible – this was one of your brother’s friends and, well, one of his colleagues. the thought snapped you out of it, abruptly pulling away from lando.

clearing your throat, you looked at him, biting down on your lower lip. “i’m so sorry, i—” he started before you stopped him, shaking your head.

“good night, lando,” was all you could say as you stood up, quickly making your way inside and beelining it for your room.

this couldn’t be happening, not again.

[claymoresword]

I Choose Her | Stand-Alone Series Chapter: 1

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Prompt: Hermione gets jealous as she catches you flirting with someone else, but it ends in a heartfelt exchange between the two of you.

Wordcount: 1.6k

Warnings: romilda vane gets rejected like canon, y/n & hermione are soulmates its confirmed, no plot just fluff

Note: a little something to tide you guys over while i work on the final chapter. hope you enjoy! <3

Taglist: @gvrsto @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @arielj @poppyflower-22 @scarleigh1989 @smut-religiously777 @cocoyeehaw @blackbirdv98 @arcturusseer @iamcapitalgbicorn8287 @lonewalker17 @karasonromanoff @httphayn @bigbadsofty07 @cherryflavoredcoke @dumpsapphic @idontwannabehereatm @js-a-writer @baylegend6 @puta1 @t-wylia @raven-ss @unexpected-character @aki-ham @brocoliisscared

You harshly shove the Hufflepuff seeker out of the way, he doesn't budge, not until you shoulder him again. This time it unsteadies his broom, in an effort to not lose his balance, he falls back, leaving you alone in pursuit of the Golden Snitch.

You manage to locate the snitch once more, the golden ball just a few paces out of reach, as you extend your hand, you can feel its wing fluttering violently against your fingertips As you attempt to grab it, the flying ball quickly changes course trying to evade you, but you still manage to follow closely behind.

"Come on." You mutter under your breath, you are so close, the ball is practically yours.

Coincidentally, a large gust of wind graces your flight path at just the right moment. You take full advantage of it, picking up a bit of momentum, just enough to trap the Golden Snitch in your grasp.

You then whisk yourself around on the broom to face the stands, stubbornly the Snitch tries to wriggle free, but you hold it firmly still.

A large roar erupts from the audience as you hold up your prize for all to see. They were cheering for you.

The sound is exhilarating, intoxicating. It makes you feel invisible– but there was only one person's cheer worth taking notice.

In a sea of Gryffindors, you find Hermione's gaze. Your grin widens, and she smiles right back at you.

Soon enough an involuntarily blush covers your cheeks, and you are forced to look away.

"Y/n has caught the Golden Snitch. Slytherin wins!"

═══════════════════════════════════════════

The celebration continues well into the evening in the Slytherin common room. Students from all houses fill the space, taking advantage of the unlimited amounts of liquor and butter beer available.

Crabbe and Blaise insist on parading you on their shoulders for the dozenth time tonight, it seems the more intoxicated they get, the harder they find the task of leaving you alone.

“Y/n!, Y/n!, Y/n!” The crowd continues to chant beneath you, and you can only allow yourself to enjoy the moment. Even though the incessant attention from everyone tonight was starting to peeve you slightly.

The only person you wanted to spend time with tonight is Hermione– yet she is nowhere to be found.

“Alright, put me down guys.” You raise your voice over the commotion, and your friends finally oblige, taking you off their shoulders, you let out a breath of relief once your feet touch flat ground.

“If you keep it up, Y/n, we'll win all the games this season.” Pansy claims, her voice closer to a shout.

You merely give her a nod, taking her words for a compliment and nothing more. Deliberately ignoring the sudden sense of crippling responsibility that's been set upon you.

You find yourself looking through the crowd once more, hoping to spot a familiar brown-eyed beauty.

Where is she?

You push through the sea of students, a few of them continue hurling praises at you and taking the opportunity to squeeze your shoulder as a version of acclamation.

By the time you reach the large window by the far side of the room, you are out of breath.

The spot you've escaped to is somewhat secluded, so you are given a chance to gain your bearings, as you silently observe the view of the black lake.

That is, until someone unwelcomed enters your space.

“You were amazing on the pitch today–” Romilda Vane says, standing an inch too close.

You catch a whiff of alcohol on her breath, and your effort to distance yourself fails as she merely sees it as an opportunity to step closer.

“Thanks, Romilda. I didn't realize you liked Quidditch.” You state dismissively, before scanning your surroundings again, for any indication of Hermione.

“I don't, not really..” She replies, and a bold hand on your shoulder snatches your attention once more.

“I like watching you though.” Romilda says, inching even closer, you watch as her gaze manages to find your lips for a moment.

Normally, you'd entertain such a blatant attempt at flirting, especially from someone so attractive– but tonight, you couldn't care less.

Hermione is the only girl you want complimenting you.

Romilda proceeds to brazenly caress your bicep, she gasps slightly after giving your firm muscle a squeeze.

“I bet you could easily lift me.” She remarks suggestively, and you let out a dismissive scoff, but this only urges her to continue eyeing you hungrily– a mere object she'd like to toy with.

“Perhaps we could find out–” You suggest, but immediately regret your effort in humoring her.

Romilda mistakes your words as an invitation. She leans in to meet your lips and you quickly swerve out of the way.

“Some other time.” You quip, subsequently catching sight of a familiar face in the distance You don't even bother letting Romilda down easily before chasing after her.

-

“Hermione!” You call out, but the Gryffindor is making it quickly through the crowd. It seemed shouting her name only motivated her to walk further away.

You finally catch up to her in the gallery, outside the common room, the door soon shuts behind you, and the two of you are left alone.

“Hey, slow down–” You say, finally grabbing hold of Hermione’s arm.

“Where are you going?” You ask, but when she turns to look at you, her hardened expression takes you aback.

“Are you alright?” Your ask of real concern is only met with an eye-roll. Hermione groans in frustration as she tries to wrench out of your hold.

“Let me go–” She asks sternly, and you do just that, but her demeanor continues to unnerve you. You could never bear it whenever she was upset with you.

Whatever it is, you plan to rectify it now.

“Hermione..” You coax gently, and the Gryffindor no longer makes the effort to walk away from you, instead she leans against the stone wall, her gaze fixed towards the ground.

You stuff your hands into your pockets as you made the conscious effort to not reach out for her again.

“You know you can talk to me– tell me what's wrong, darling. Was it something I did?” You try once more, and finally, she graces you with a lingering glance.

"Why are you with me? You could have any girl in the school.. anyone you wanted. So why me?” Hermione asks, the faint tremor in her voice breaks you, but you can't help the incredulous look that paints your features.

“Are you really asking me that?” You ask flippantly.

Your carelessness only makes visible tears well up in Hermione's eyes, and you immediately regret opening your mouth.

“Oh– no, I'm sorry. Come here.” You remark frantically, pulling Hermione closer by the waist, and she accepts your embrace.

“I'm sorry.” You repeat earnestly. She buries her face in the crook of your neck, despite herself.

“You have no idea how much you mean to me, do you?” You mutter, as you take in the scent of her hair.

Hermione pulls back to look at you expectantly, and you don't fight the urge to hold her face in both your hands, leaning in to kiss her deeply.

“I think you're brilliant.” You admit as your lips remain less than an inch apart.

“Really?” Hermione breathes out, and you can only smile.

“Yes.” You claim before tilting your head to kiss her jaw. “Being with you.. it's like a dream.” You continue, relishing at the feeling of Hermione shifting closer to feel more of you.

“A dream I never want to wake from.” You utter directly into her ear, before placing a kiss against it.

Hermione shudders in delight, her hand slips up your chest to the collar of your shirt, she clutches it, at an effort to steady herself.

You proceed to kiss her neck, and amidst a series of soft moans, Hermione utters something far more incriminating.

“I love you..” She says breathlessly, almost too soft to be real.

You feel her tense up as you halted the string of kisses you were leaving upon her skin, trying to process what you just heard.

“What did you just say?” You ask, pulling away so you could trap Hermione's gaze.

The evident blush upon her cheeks only causes your grin to widen.

“Nothing, I–” Hermione stutters, and you decide to help refresh her memory.

“You love me?” You ask, hopeful that she wouldn't deny it.

“Yes. Maybe.. I don't know.” She averts her eyes, and you have to bite your lip to stop from smiling too wide.

“Well, that's a relief. because I think, maybe, I love you too.” You respond, tucking a strand of hair behind Hermione's ear, and this makes her look at you again.

“Wait– you do?” Hermione asks, her manner ever unassuming. She is perfect, and she loves you.

“I love you like a madman.” You admit plainly, and her chuckle causes your heart to flutter violently in your chest. “Sometimes it feels like I can hardly do anything else besides love you.”

Hermione's expression visibly softens at your admittance, she leans in to kiss you again, you gladly welcome the sensation of her tongue entering your mouth.

“You make me feel things that I don't even understand sometimes.. but I just know that, I seem to never want to be away from you.”

Hermione utters after separating her lips from your own, her hand moves to the nape of your neck, and the other runs through your hair.

“I feel the same.” You state, placing a chaste kiss against her cheek.

“So let us never part, my love.”

[ghost-proofbaby]

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER TEN: RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

DID YOU EVER HEAR ABOUT THE GIRL WHO GOT FROZEN? TIME WENT ON FOR EVERYBODY ELSE - SHE WON'T KNOW IT.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, minors dni

☆ WC: 5.9K+

☆ A/N: lyrics used towards end of the chapter belong to the following sleep token songs (in order of appearance) - chokehold, ascensionism, and take me back to eden. 10/10 recommends listening to them <3

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

When you wake up, you’re shocked to find cold sheets beside you. 

Your hand stretches out on instinct, joints cracking as you barely slip into consciousness, and it’s the one thing capable of jolting you awake. These aren’t your sheets (they’re too nice to be your sheets), this isn’t your bed (there’s a cologne across the fabric that no longer stains your own mattress), and the bed is cold. Not even whispering of the warmth of who should be in bed with you, no trace of him having been tangled up with you the entire night to be found. 

Eddie had been here. You know he had been here. Last night couldn’t have possibly been a dream, or a hallucination, or some cruel twisting of reality done by your brain out of the terrible yearning that is bubbling back up to the surface of your chest. 

He had been here. And now, he’s gone. 

It reminds you too much of those mornings you’d awake while he was on tour. The mornings you’d roll over in a shared bed, only to find the other owner was still a country away. Mornings where you took your coffee cold and alone, and took your updates from some online source posting blurry photographs of the man you were waiting up on rather than from his own two lips. 

Bile almost rises in your throat until you properly sit up, and you properly remember. 

Eddie. Kisses. His guitar. His song. Whispered falsetto of taking aim, painful words about the way love is a weapon. 

You weren’t stupid. You weren’t dense. And Eddie Munson was a rockstar, not an actor. 

The room is still dreary, faintly lit with the wisps of daylight peering through the curtains over the window. You can’t tell if it’s stormy out, or it’s early out, but neither really matters. Neither really explains why you’ve woken up in a bed alone, after a night of playing pretend. 

Eddie’s lips, trailing down your skin. Eddie’s hands, bruising your hips and holding you to him in all the ways you begged him to. Eddie’s legs, entangling with yours beneath sheets he used to not be able to afford and blankets that kept the rest of the world as far away from the two of you as possible through the night. 

You swear, for just a moment, your back is still warm with the imprint of his chest curling against you. 

With every movement you make, you wait for Eddie to magically appear out of thin air. To jump up in front of you, to smile at you with that toothy grin and greet you with some ridiculous good morning. You keep waiting as you kick off the covers, and as your feet meet his cold floors, and as you make your way to the unfamiliar bathroom attached to the bedroom. 

Waiting, waiting, waiting. 

You sort of fucking hate waiting. Especially when it came to Eddie.

There’s no sign of him in the apartment. It becomes clear once you’ve brushed your teeth, almost hesitating to use the toothbrush available until you realize how ridiculous that would be. He had his tongue down your throat last night, amongst other places – he could bare for you to borrow his toothbrush just this once. You make your way out of the room, down the hallway, to the kitchen. 

Nothing. No Eddie. No breakfast. No reminders to call Matt and no ambulances on speed dial. 

You feel like a fool. 

“Talk about karma, hm?” you mumble to yourself as you lean against his kitchen island, staring at the fridge, weighing your choices. 

You could stay, make yourself breakfast, enjoy the luxuries at your disposal. 

Or you could leave. You could get out now while he’s not here to stop you, erase the night from your skin and memory. There’s still time to pretend that none of it ever happened. There’s still time to scrub the stain he’s once again left across not just your skin, not just your mind, but your entire existence. A newly reopened wound, and you still had time to make amends and stitch it right back up. No blood stains necessary this time around. And things were always easier the second time around, right? 

Wrong. 

Something keeps you rooted in spot. Maybe it’s the nostalgia, wrapping its way up around your bones. Maybe it's the wishful thinking, the smallest of hopes that Eddie will eventually burst through the front door and wash away the doubts. 

Or maybe it’s the post-it note that you’d initially missed, barely clinging to the surface of the fridge as it leaves behind a sticky residue. 

Went to the studio, I’m in trouble with Matt :( Help yourself to anything in the apartment. If you leave, just make sure to lock up behind you. I’ll text once I’m done. 

It’s written in messy penmanship, the font of someone in a rush. The phrase ‘if you leave’ is only slightly neater, as if written slowly and given more thought than anything else said. 

As if Eddie might have hesitated, for just a moment, at the thought of you leaving once more. 

You’re probably imagining things. You’re probably making up that difference in your mind, projecting onto what you want him to feel so desperately. It shouldn’t make a difference in if you stay or if you go. It shouldn’t. 

And yet, it does. 

The hours pass by slowly. Morning bleeds into the afternoon as you keep yourself entertained and take Eddie’s encouragement in full stride; you make yourself a decent enough breakfast from what food he does have in the fridge, and you almost make a note of scolding him for having little to nothing in there. But then you remember that it isn’t your place anymore, and your toast is nearly burning, and so the mental note of any slaps on the wrist is pushed away. You wander about the living room, taking in what photos he does have displayed. There’s not much – a few awards, some nice recounts of the band’s successes, but nothing that is Eddie. No photos of Hawkins. No photos of friends. No photos of Wayne. You hadn’t realized just how empty, how vacant, the place had felt until you properly inspected it all. 

There’s only one trace left behind of Eddie. The man you once knew and loved, not Eddie the Rockstar. Eddie, the caring best friend. Eddie, the doting boyfriend. Eddie, the one you’d once spent all your days weaving a future with, threads intertwined and dreams perfectly aligned. 

A single photograph of just him and Gareth. Or at least, what’s been framed to appear to be of just him and Gareth. 

Eddie, front and center. Gareth to his left. At a quick glance, it seems like one more homage to the band, maybe even to his friends. 

It’s more than that, though.

Your hands can’t work fast enough as they grab the frame, not even thinking clearly about how Eddie might feel if you rip the back off the nice piece of memoriam. Your heart is racing out your chest, breaths starting to come out in harsher and harsher puffs as you struggle to flip the clips and remove the backing cardboard. 

You find exactly what you knew you’d find. Exactly what you’d dreaded you’d find. 

Yourself, staring back at you. 

Creased over so purposefully, the section of the photo containing you has been prestigiously folded to appear as though you’d never existed. You, with a fool’s grin and eyes squinted out of appearance. You, hand on Eddie’s shoulder as you’d lifted yourself up dramatically on your tippy toes, body full of pride beyond the point of containment. 

A version of you that you can remember crystal clearly. 

“Wait, wait!” you had squealed, the stick of beer on concrete floors meeting the rubber sole of your shoes audible as you’d ran across the bar, “Don’t you dare take that photo without me, assholes!” 

You’d nearly slipped in a puddle of only God-knows-what as you’d made it to where the boys were gathering, but Eddie’s hands had already been there to catch you before you’d met an untimely demise. 

“Woah, woah, woah,” his face twitched with concern, but his smile wasn’t fading, “Trying to kill yourself there, Sugar?” 

“No, I’m trying to get into the photo with my favorite people,” you’d corrected, looking around Eddie to shoot a smile Gareth’s way, “Gotta make sure they don’t forget me in the history books in ten years, when they put you guys’ into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.” 

Gareth snorted immediately, shaking his head, his own head of curls bouncing with the movement, “Right. I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

Eddie’s hands left your waist, leaving you to bounce on the balls of your feet as you looked back to Jeff still poised with a camera. “Don’t be such a pessimist, Gar.” 

“Don’t call me Gar.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Should I use the full nickname? Would you prefer Gare-Bea-”

“Okay,” Eddie cut you off with impeccable timing, putting his hands out between the two of you, “Can we not kill each other after we’ve just played our biggest show yet?” 

Biggest show yet, indeed. Everyone had come out to show love to the boys you’d been rooting on from the hot floors of garages for several months at that point. More than just a few drunks being forced to listen to the live band playing at their favorite joint, and more than just a few friends who’d spared their evening to show support. 

Everyone was there. The bar had even made an exception for a few of the boys in Eddie’s Hellfire club, and that alone had already gone to Dustin Henderson and Mike Wheeler’s heads. 

“She’s right!” Dustin added without any prompting, standing to the side and looking just as giddy as you did, “You guys are gonna be goddamn rockstars!” 

“Language, Henderson!” Steve Harrington scolded, scowling at the younger boy, “Jesus, we let you guys come to a bar one time to support Eddie, and you immediately start acting up-”

“Can we please just take the photo?” Jeff waved the camera as he looked between you, Eddie, and Gareth, “Please?” 

Surprisingly, every single person listened. 

Gareth resumed his cool-guy position, clearly trying to not show just how excited he was. Arms crossed as he didn’t move any closer to be more fully in the photo, offering the limited effort of leaning in. 

You knew he was just playing it cool. You’d seen the smile light up his face, even behind the drumset, the moment the boys had seen how large of a crowd they’d garnered. 

Dustin jumping up and down beside you, waving his hand, trying to just get a glimpse of his blurry palm in the shot. 

No one could even be mad at him, the air was too thick with excitement. He was only exerting it the way all of you craved to do so badly, guided by his youth and genuine love for his friends – his mentors. 

And then there was you and Eddie. Eddie wasn’t hiding his joy at all, those dimples you so adored in full throttle as he looked at the camera with starry eyes. All that hard work, all those late nights, finally beginning to come to fruition. He didn’t have to say it – you knew. You knew he was beginning to see the shape of a rockstar forming that you’d always been able to view. Seeing himself in the spotlight that you’d always shone on him, blind faith and all. 

He was proud, and you were prouder. 

On your tippy toes, hand curling around Eddie’s shoulder like an anchor as your chin tilted up and your teeth flashed to the camera. You probably looked ridiculous – you felt ridiculous. But there was no time for some elegant pose or faux cool act like Gareth or Jeff. You were bleeding out all your pride and all your happiness, and it was all for the warm body beneath your palm. The boy you’d be holding dearly when it was all said and done at the end of the night, letting him collapse into your solace as he giggled and muttered his disbelief at how well the night went once you were both safely back in his bed. 

“Say cheese!”

Jeff was all but ignored, only Gareth loudly proclaiming the word through gritted teeth. 

You squeezed Eddie’s shoulder a bit tighter, and he smiled a bit wider as you whispered, “I’m so proud of you, Rockstar.”  

You didn’t realize you were crying until the first tear drops onto the photo, narrowly missing your overly exuberant face and landing instead on the back of the part of the photo unseen from this point of view.

The part that was on display. The part that Eddie would let the world see. 

The tears can’t become more; you can’t let them. You weren’t going to break down in sobs in the middle of Eddie’s apartment. Not after the night before, not after what felt like the precipice of progress. Not after the beginning of what felt like a peace offering. 

Closure. You were both so close to closure, and yet had never felt further. 

Instead of putting back the backing of the frame like you should, you pull out the entire photograph, slowly unsticking it from the glass so you can unfold it to witness the entire picture. You thought it might feel wrong to see this version of you standing beside that version of Eddie, but it doesn’t. If anything, it makes the burn of nostalgia worse. 

The night before, Eddie had asked you a question. 

“Do you know how many times I played this moment back over in my head?”

And you didn’t know. You never found out, never bothered to ask him for the answer. But you couldn’t but wonder if he knew how many times you’d played moments like the one in this photograph back, over and over in your mind, until it drove you to madness. Just how many late nights in that lonesome apartment, haunted by the memories, it had finally taken before you’d had no choice but to move. How many breakdowns had been spurred on in public when you’d heard his song playing in a gas station, or you’d seen a magazine that he’d occupied the smallest corner of the cover of. 

How many times, during those moments, you’d thought back to nights like the one in this picture, and wished you could go back. 

Even now, even with progress on the horizon, you want to go back. Everything in you screams for this time rather than the present. You want small crowds in the Hideout and an overly hyper Dustin Henderson to annoy you all. You want Eddie kissing you in the bar’s bathrooms, everything reeking of stale beer, and you want the only interruption to be the others banging on the door to let you know it was time to go, not Eddie’s cell phone ringing with a call from his agent. 

You want, and you want, and you want. 

For an innocence neither of you can return to. For a life both of you left behind in ashes. For a love that had seemed so infinite, not as though it might be a momentary time bomb waiting to blow. 

You want to take past you by the shoulders, and shake her so hard that there’s a chance she’ll listen to you when you demand she just enjoy it.

Enjoy all the late nights spent in diner booths with all the boys, none of them witness to the pathway of a heart that Eddie’s thumb is drawing on top of your hand. Enjoy all the grand firsts, and enjoy how everything feels like the ends and beginnings of your world when you’re that young. Enjoy Eddie while you can, even when he annoys you, even when he finds a way to get perfectly on your very last nerve. Enjoy it. 

Because one day, it would all be gone, and you’d be crying over a photograph in the apartment of the man you once thought you were going to marry. 

Now is the time to stop. Now is the time to put the photo back, gather your things, then leave. Put away the shovel and walk away from the grave of the past. 

You can’t do it. 

It turns into some wild scavenger hunt, lacking in guidelines and etiquette as you search through the rest of the apartment. Not truly snooping, but certainly scouring every corner for any other possible remnants of you. Small markings, brutal stains. Proof you weren’t the only one left maimed at the end of the day. Proof you weren’t the only one stained. 

Nothing else is found, because nothing else in the apartment is seemingly as personal as that one photograph. 

You’d noticed the apartment was barren, but hadn’t taken the time to see just how far the emptiness went. His living room, his kitchen, his bedroom – not a single sign of the Eddie you once knew. Only the new Eddie. The Eddie with awards, with a reputation, with adoring fans. 

The Eddie that you couldn’t tell if you really cared for all that much.

The first sign of life only creeps into your vision when you crack back open that door to his makeshift studio. Guitars he once only spoke of owning, a keyboard that tells you he’d finally taught himself how to play piano rather than only speaking about it as a one-day, notebooks and loose-leaf pages scattered across the coffee table that’s situated in front of the comfortable couch. 

It reminds you of the coffee table back in the Munson trailer. Of his desk, back in Hawkins. 

There’s no sporadic Hellfire campaigns across the pages, though. No small doodles in the corners of the crumbled pages. 

Your curiosity gets the better of you as you take the same seat you’d occupied the night before (or technically, the earlier morning). No guitar fills your lap – only the weight of the first notebook you could get your hands on. He’d told you to help yourself to anything in the apartment, and he’d never said that the studio was explicitly off-limits. 

There’s rings of coffee stains across the front of the notebook, half the pages visibly used from the side while the rest stay pristine and uniform. Before you can overthink it, you’re flipping the cover of the spiral notebook open, holding your breath as you read across the first line of penned words that you find. 

When we were made, it was no accident. 

Lyrics. They’re clearly lyrics. You keep reading, out of order as your eager eyes drink it all in. 

I’d turn my walls to gold to bring you home again.

You turn the page. You refuse to linger. You refuse to over analyze. 

MAKE IT REAL. ‘Cause anything’s better than the way I feel right now. 

The first three words are angry, aggressive, large. Screaming off of the page. And the remaining ones are small, almost cursive as they flow together like a whisper. Like the writer couldn’t handle telling the world something so vulnerable, so loudly as he had his demand.

Below, a phrase takes up an unexpected amount of space, circled around several times, a few stray question marks penned around the edges.

Diamonds in the trees, pentagrams in the night sky.

You recall all of Eddie’s doubt when you’d interrupted him writing a song last night. The muttering to himself, questioning what the words might even mean. It seems that was not an occurrence saved solely for you – it seems, when he’s been left to his own devices, the process always remains. 

You turn the page again. 

This time, you’re met with the largest conglomerates of lyrics yet. Spreading across the available lines preset for him, but also spiraling about the page. Written in the margins, forced to fill the gaps between the lines. There’s a sinking feeling in your gut before you even read the lyrics, based on the title alone – Take Me Back to Eden. 

I dream in phosphoresces, bleed through spaces. See you drifting past the fog.

You’re holding your breath again. 

I’m a winged insect, you’re a funeral pyre. 

Your eyes wander further down the page. 

I need you to see me for what I have become.

The word become is angrily underlined, over and over, until the pen had torn through the page in the slightest. 

Something rises up within you, and in a panic, you jump to the bottom of the page. 

I guess it goes to show, does it not? That we’ve no idea what we’ve got until we lose it. 

The first fatal blow – you can practically hear Eddie’s voice singing the line to you. 

And no amount of love will keep it around, if we don’t choose it. 

Another blow. Flashes of simpler times. Times when Eddie was yours, when the world didn’t lay claim to him the same way your own shaking palms would. 

No amount of self-sought fury will bring back the glory of innocence. 

It doesn’t matter how small he’s written it. No matter how tiny and insignificant he attempted to make the line, it cuts deeper than any knives that have ever passed through your flesh before. Deeper than the knife of losing him, so terribly slow. Deeper than the knife of hearing Corroded Coffin in public for the first time, playing out of someone’s car on the street as they listened to the Alternative Rock station. Deeper than the knife of burying his mother’s ring at the back of your closet, no longer yours to wear but somehow still yours to keep. Deeper than the knife of seeing him sitting there, in your office, completely unaware for the first time in two years. 

You slam the notebook shut before you can end up bleeding all over the pages, tears gathering once more and wounds all ripped back open mercilessly. 

The glory of innocence. 

All the reels of memories that had hit you as you’d held the photo in the living room come barreling back, striking you down, hitting you exactly where it hurts. 

Because he had felt it too. He had experienced it too. 

The nostalgia, the want for the past, the need to go back in time when things were simple – innocent. When the stakes were low and love was more than just a ghost wandering through your graveyard in passing. 

Self-sought fury. 

All the headlines, all the self-destruction. Every news article that had chipped away at the great Rockstar’s reputation. It hadn’t been the Eddie you’d known, just as you’d immediately thought; it was a new version of him, a new shell of him, seeking out damage wherever his furious hands could grasp it. 

But you’d never self-imploded. You’d never gotten your fury out, never got to kiss strangers in bars or destroy hotel rooms to move past all that you had lost. You’d been sitting in silence, a brewing pique that you’d let fester for far too long. All the hurt, all the fury, all the heartbreak. 

You didn’t have songs to write about all that. You didn’t have notebooks filled to the brim with those emotions. 

All you had was a shovel, and a deep hole inside yourself that you never thought you’d excavate again. Deep, russet brown eyes that had once lit the pavement for your future, now patronizing your past from the grave. 

A grave you hadn’t been digging alone, apparently. Worlds apart, and you two still had been seemingly in sync with the murder of who Eddie Munson once was. 

But the grave is excavated now, and you don’t think too much as you all but sprint out of the room, a clear destination in mind, that damn notebook in hand. 

—

Google is your greatest friend, your greatest tool, in the end. 

You don’t have the right connections at first. No numbers saved in your phone that you could call for the information, no emails beyond Matt to reach out to. And if there’s anything you’ve learned in working in a business where emails were the sole form of communication, it’s that no one would reply to you as quickly as Eddie had been. 

You didn’t have time. So you decided you’d already crossed a line, and you’d scoured the address of the recording studio that Corroded Coffin uses. 

You’d almost lost hope until you’d seen a paparazzi photo of him leaving said studio. Most news outlets had clearly been paid to keep hush about the location, but some were still the scum of the Earth, and some had left behind evidence. It took more effort on your part than expected, and more scrolling through fan forums than you were proud of, but you’d found it. 

You’d found the address where you would find Eddie Munson. 

Hell hath no self-sought fury like a muse scorned, you suppose. 

That’s what had hurt the most. In hindsight, you’d always known he’d write about you one day. He was an artist, and he had always pulled inspiration from his real life experiences. You’d just always been under the assumption that when the day came, the words on the page may be a happier tune. Something softer, something less hurtful. 

He wasn’t even insulting you, but it certainly felt like he was mocking you. 

You’re blinded by pain as you storm through the front door of the surprisingly small studio, finally feeling the need to lash out after two long years. Two long years of silent misery, silent suffering. You’re no longer the same person who had taken the cowardly way out. There is no instinctive running away from this, no gathering up your existence and disappearing from his life. 

This time, you want to fight. You want to scream at him all that you had felt as well. You wanted him to know the damage done, whether it was the right response or not. 

It probably wasn’t. And there was probably something to be said about the fact that this time, you were willing to fight with him over it. 

“Good afternoon, ma’am,” a young receptionist greets you from the front desk, “Do you have an appointment?” 

“Nope.”

She doesn’t deserve your venom, but she’s getting it straight out of your clipped tone regardless. You’re not here to play niceties with her – you’re here to see Eddie. 

She’s clearly taken back from your straight-forward answer, “Oh, I see. Unfortunately, the studio is currently occupied, but we can-”

“I know the studio’s occupied,” you reply blandly, eyes looking for the elevator, “I’m here to see the bastard currently occupying it.” 

“I- excuse me?” 

You spot the elevator, feet working faster than your mouth as you start to walk over to it, “I said, I’m here to see Eddie Munson. I know he’s in the studio currently, I know him-”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“You’re not really in the business of letting me do anything-”

“Ma’am.” 

You hadn’t noticed the security guard until his hand comes down on your shoulder. The receptionist girl is wide-eyed, looking nervous enough that if you weren’t in the middle of your own spiral, you might feel bad. 

“Let go of me,” you shakily demand, standing still under his hold, “I just need to speak with Ed-”

“No one goes in there without permission from the band or their management,” the man gruffly replies. He may have a good foot on you in height, and the stretch of his muscles beneath the plain black t-shirt might be impressive, but you’re almost convinced by the adrenaline racing through your veins that you could take him. One swift kick of the legs, and you could get to the elevator – you could get to Eddie.

Fight with Eddie. Call Eddie out for all the pain he’d let fester within you for far too long. Probably not even realizing you were calling yourself out in the same breath. 

“Then fucking call them,” you snap, reaching up to swat away his hand, “Call them, and tell them my name-”

“We’ve been given strict instructions to not interrupt them-”

“I could give two shits if we’re interrupting!” you finally yell, fulling tearing yourself away from the strange man’s grasp, “Fucking call Eddie, and tell him-”

It’s the sudden call of your name that breaks the tense moment entirely. Not Eddie’s voice, not even Matt’s voice, but a different voice from your past that has hardly changed.

Standing before you is Gareth Emerson, almost looking entertained at the current exchange happening. 

“She’s with us, man,” he chokes out, clearly holding back laughter as he locks eyes with you, “I can take her back up.” 

“Are you sure?” the security guard presses, looking at you with narrowed eyes, “If this is some insane groupie, Matt will kill me if-”

“I’m not a fucking groupie!” 

You have no reason to be so angry, so defensive. But you’re already a wounded animal, and you’re primed to bite at the slightest inconvenience. 

The wounds of the past are gushing, and being reduced to nothing more than an insane groupie is salt in the blood. Callous, burning, hurtful. 

You’re not just a groupie. 

“She’s not a groupie,” Gareth echoes after you, and his words are far more effective. The guard takes a step back, and Gareth finally lets out a snort that he tries to cover with a cough, “C’mon, Hellfire. Let’s take you upstairs before you burn this whole place to the ground.” 

You swallow down any shock at the old nickname, and you rush to join Gareth’s side, being sure to knock an elbow into his side on your way past him. 

“No one even calls me that anymore,” you mutter, still half-angry, guns still ready to begin blazing in Eddie’s direction once he’s in your sight. 

“Maybe that’s because you haven’t been around the only people that did call you that,” he points out, tone entirely unaffected by your elbow.

“You guys didn’t trademark Hellfire.”

“No, but we sure as Hell made a name for it back in Hawkins.” 

You two stop in front of the elevator, and neither of you make a move to press the call button. You’re all deep breaths, trying to settle yourself as Gareth continues to stare at you. 

“You haven’t changed one bit, you know.” 

His words have you looking up sharply, brows crinkling as you let them sink in, “Excuse me?” 

“I thought you might have changed,” he says, face softening, “You know, the years and city changed you or something. But you’re still… still that same girl we knew. All fiery, always ready for a fight.” 

His last sentence is laced with a bit of sarcasm, some light-hearted joking you hadn’t realized you missed until you’re face to face with it. 

You swallow hard, and you know your own face melts to match his, “That… I… I have changed. That guard was just being a dick.” 

“He was doing his job.”

“Yeah, well,” you sigh, feeling the wisps of fury slip out of your grasps. You almost feel like a toddler, prepared to stomp your foot just to emphasize a losing argument. “He should do his job worse.” 

“And you say you’ve changed,” Gareth teases, bumping his shoulder to yours, “Bullshit, Hellfire. You just let the suits at your job get to you. Maybe you should stick around this time, remember who you were.” 

The words shouldn’t make your chest tighten, but they do. 

Who you were.

Leaving behind Eddie meant more than just leaving behind a failed relationship. It meant leaving everyone. And that included Gareth. That included the version of you that you’ve missed so terribly today that you’ve gone grave-digging, pulling back all emotions to the service. It’s not just anger, it’s not just nostalgia. It’s something deeper and something you can’t erase. A stain on the deepest parts of you that you can’t rid yourself of, even if you’d wanted to. 

Neither of you have pressed the elevator button yet. 

It’s impulsive, but there’s a decision to be made that you won’t overthink. You’re brimming with impulsivity anyways, “Give me your phone number.”

“What?” 

“Give me your number,” you repeat yourself, already digging out your cell phone as you balance Eddie’s notebook in your other hand, “And I’ll stick around this time.” 

You don’t necessarily mean it in the same way he implies, but you mean it in the way that counts. 

You hand your phone over to his waiting palm, and for a moment, it feels like a weight has lifted. 

Even if it all burns down with Eddie. Even if you find the closure you’ve been so desperately seeking out with him, it doesn’t mean you have to leave the others behind. People like Gareth, like Grant, like Jeff – there’s still room for them, somewhere in your new life. You had grown up together practically, at least during the years that had counted, and there was no need to erase them from your history. 

You could find a way. You had to find a way. 

Compartmentalize, rationalize. Justifications and explanations were plentiful. You would find a way to meet the you that once existed and the you that was left behind in the rubble, somehow, someway. 

When Gareth hands you back the phone, there’s a smile twitching in the corners of his mouth, “We should meet up for dinner sometime. I know the rest of the guys, Jeff and Grant, they miss you. And we know this killer pizza place.” 

You don’t fight your returning smile, “Yeah. We should. I think I’d really like that.” 

“Right,” he claps, looking around to clearly see if the guard and receptionist are still watching. They’re momentarily distracted, it seems, by some sort of delivery driver, “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Our studio’s on the third floor.”

“Wait,” his finger has already jabbed at the call button, the sounds of an elevator creaking on its quick descent to you sounding from behind the metal doors, “Aren’t you coming back up with me?” 

“Oh, God, no,” Gareth’s nose scrunches, and his overgrown hair bounces as he shakes his head, “I think I’ve had just about enough of Eddie for the day. The rest of the guys left about an hour ago, anyways, and I’m guessing you two might want some privacy?” You nod at his questioning tone, “Perfect. Then, in that case – third floor, like I said.”

“Thank you, Gareth,” you blurt out, fighting down all the nostalgia. Part of you is aching – part of you just wants to see the other boys again, no longer needing the fight with Eddie, “I- I missed you guys too, for what it’s worth.” 

“We know,” he jokes back, although there’s something in the way he says it that makes you think that maybe they didn’t know that. He finally glances at the notebook in your hands that you’d nearly forgotten about, lively eyes turned simply sad. “Just go and give him Hell, yeah? You’re not the only one who's lost themselves.” 

There’s no chance to ask what Gareth might mean as a ding sounds and the doors slide open. The boy that you have genuinely and sincerely missed nods his head, signaling for you to get in, and you do just that. Mentally preparing yourself with one last gulp of air, one last look at Gareth, before you ready your boxing gloves once more. 

You’re not the only one who's lost themselves.

The doors slide shut, and you punch the button for the third floor. 

eddie's taglist:@capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @mediocredreams @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin

@ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87

@thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea@kellsck

@cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking

@witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore

@mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog

@vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp

@princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

@writinginthetwilight @trixyvixx @kittydeadbones @munson-addict @bluejeangenies

@cryingglightningg @joannamuns9n @missmarch-99 @rhirojo @findmeincorneliastreet

[professorlaytonarchive]

THE ORIGINAL DEATHLY MIRROR HAS BEEN FOUND.

This is not a drill. All 6 chapters of MotDM's original version are found and playable through emulation right now, thanks to the brilliant folks over at KeitaiWiki!

Now, remember this is the original version, not the ReMix, and the whole thing is in Japanese (yes, we're working on a translation) - but this is an amazing find for several reasons.

One, of course, is preservation. Having this game accessible and available is a fantastic thing for a multitude of reasons I don't feel the need to explain here.

Two, it's amazing news for our remake, too. There were a few missing pieces that we were not sure what to do about. That worry has been solved entirely, and all of these things can now be incorporated into the remake. Like what, you may ask?

For starters, there's 15 new puzzles that we can now localise and incorporate. Some are a bit more difficult to work with (there's a few based on specific uses of Japanese grammar), but we feel confident we'll be able to deliver fun and interesting interpretations of these new puzzles. For those of you keeping count, yes, that ups the minimum total of new puzzles in our remake to 60.

Another thing we're very happy to have recovered is the minigames, and the diary entries they reward you. There's one minigame in Chapters 1-3, and another in Chapters 4-6, for which we did not have any gameplay, assets, or even rules. While the loss of the second mingame could have been overcome by simply giving the first minigame more levels, the diary entries they reward you would have needed a lot more work and imagination, with our writers having to try to create new entries that would follow the original vision. This is now no longer an issue, and we can bring the original vision for these diary entries into the remake as they are.

On top of that, there were a few characterisations and storylines that were different between the original and the remix, where we would have had to pick the remix version by default, because the back half of the original was missing - this recovery gives us far more wiggle room to combine and reconcile these versions and make this game the most interesting version of itself. (Also, at the back end, having access to the original assets makes our recreation department very, very happy.)

So, all in all, a fantastic morning for the Layton fandom!

And then, what? Well, it might be a bit quiet on the update side of things for the time being, given that our job right now is to translate and localise about a million different things - and that just isn't a super interesting process to be sharing. We may have more to tell you once we've unpacked and analysed the files (we've only just got our hands on them, that's how fast this whole thing has gone), and we definitely have some other fun stuff we're working on that we can't wait to share, but after this massive update (maybe the biggest we'll ever do, because, wow), we'll need some time to work.

So for now, keep on keeping on, keep an eye on this subreddit and our youtube channel, and go check out the incredible work KeitaiWiki is doing. This whole thing, from the beginning, would not have been possible without them. (Seriously - they've been with us since the start of it all.)

Thank you.

-Nordic

from Team Enigma and Team Professor Layton Archive

[omanotherstory]

Welcome Exchange Students, to Obey Me! Another Story.

An Interactive rewrite lesson by lesson by @devildomditzy

This is a playable rewrite of the original Obey Me! game’s story, using clickable dialogue options to progress the story. 

Please read the Quick Start Guide below to learn how to begin your journey to the Devildom.

Obey Me!, its characters, story, content, assets, etc., belong to NTT Solmare. This blog has no affiliation. This is purely a free-to-access fan work.

If you like what I do, I have a ko-fi - any contributions will go towards funding my mammon card gambling addiction 😌

Obey Me! Another Story is a rewrite of the original Obey Me! game’s story. As such, it will contain elements, dialogue options, plot points, etc. from the game.

If you have not played the original Obey Me! Game, only Obey Me! Nightbringer, it is highly recommended that you finish the original game in app or read the entire story through Obey Me! Nightbringer’s time chronicles function. 

The first few lessons will heavily lean on the in-game writing and dialogue.This will change as we move away from the first few lessons/set up of the story, though this entire experience will follow the plot of the game. 

I will be posting this lesson by lesson. The beginning of each lesson will have a post labeled “START STORY HERE”. Please begin there for each lesson. Ignore the additional posts, as the linked dialogue options on the initial post will bring you to the next part of the story. 

The last post of the lesson (for all dialogue options) will be labeled ‘LESSON END”. If that post does not have an additional link that takes you to the next lesson, that means the next lesson is not out yet. 

To begin, please click the link in the “Lessons” tab below of the lesson you’d like to read. Of course, if you are just starting please begin at lesson one. The posts will take you through to the next lesson if available.

If you are following along as I am uploading this rewrite and caught up to the posted content during one of your read throughs, please access the next lesson you need via the “Lessons” tab below, like a chapter book. The lessons will be organized exactly like the game (lesson 1-1, 1-2,1-3, etc.). 

If you are currently reading and a dialogue option does not have a link attached, I am most likely currently uploading and editing that chapter. If you believe you have found a genuine broken or missing link, please send me an ask on @devildomditzy.

For all questions and inquiries, please inbox me @devildomditzy.

If for any reason this blog becomes inactive, it will be stated in the description.

THE DIALOGUE IS FORMATTED AS FOLLOWS:

You are MC.

Your thoughts look like this.

(Your actions look like this)

MC: Your dialogue looks like this.

Other character's actions look like this.

Character: Other character's dialogue looks like this.

Once lessons are fully uploaded and ready to go, their starting page link will appear here!

-----CHATPER 1 ------

LESSON 1-1

LESSON 1-2

LESSON 1-3

LESSON 1-5

LESSON 1-7

LESSON 1-10

LESSON 1-13

LESSON 1-15

-----CHAPTER 2-----

LESSON 2-2

LESSON 2-4

Who else works on this project?

This is a solo project and a labor of love. As such, uploads may be slow.

What is the upload schedule? 

As of right now, it is whenever I can. I am a full time university student with a full time job. As such, uploads may be slow.

How long will this run for?

As long as I can do it without burning out, it will continue through the entire story. Also if this gets like no traction, I probably won’t complete it. The project might get cancelled if that is the case, since this is such a big undertaking. 

You said you were going to edit screenshots of the game in photoshop to go with the story. Where are they?

I decided I really don’t think I’d like getting sued.

You really like Mammon. Is the story going to be Mammon x MC centric?

No, I will be fleshing out all options (including romantic options) for all brothers and dateables so you can pick your favorite!

I have a question. Where can I contact you?

Please send me an ask on my main blog, @devildomditzy.

I don’t like the way you wrote ‘such and such’! 

The great thing about fanworks is you can go make your own and it can be however you’d like! However, this is mine. So if you don’t like it, don’t read it! 

Have fun be safe love you!

[azzo0]

Pickpocket

Summary: You've successfully managed to pickpocket a fortune. While you're fantasising about the things you could do with so much money, you're dragged away by the royal guards to face the wrath of Prince Katsuki.

Pairing: Bakugo x f!reader

A/N: I wanted to complete the story within this chapter, but it got too long. See you in the next chapter!

Part 1; Part 3

You opened the coin bag you had pickpocketed from the mysteriously covered stranger, your jaw dropping to the floor when you saw it was filled to the brim with gold coins. It looked like you had just stolen someone's life savings.

Your parents and siblings knew that apart from the hunts you went on and did not make much from, you often went out to pickpocket, something you often got scoldings for. But the few extra silvers that you managed to get lightened the weight on your parents' shoulders to some extent. It was usually just a few coppers and silvers you stole. How were you going to explain this fortune you pickpocketed? 

While you were in the middle of counting the coins, your youngest brother decided to come into your room, gaping at the gold on your desk, "Y/n, what is that?! Did you just hunt a super rare creature or something?"

"You know the only thing available in these forests is rabbits and birds or deer if we're lucky," a mischievous glint flashed in your eyes, "I pickpocketed this."

"You're unbelievable," He shook his head, picking up a coin, which you snatched, "With that much gold, we'll be able to eat three times a day, buy a horse and a carriage, new clothes and a whole castle!"

You smiled at the youngest. It wasn't enough to tend to all his dreams, but it still made you happy knowing you could at least feed your family and get a few needed household items. However, your fantasies were short-lived when you heard a series of heavy knocks on the front door.

"I'll go see who it is." You went to see who it was to find your father had already answered the door. You froze when you saw five hulking royal guards talking to your father. You didn't need to step forward and talk to them to know this was about you.

Who was the person you pickpocketed? Perhaps a noble or someone close to the royal family? Sweat rolled down your neck when one of the guards caught your eye. He matched in past your father, squinting at your face, "Oi, she's the one we're looking for!"

"Me? What could I have possibly done?" You innocently batted your eyelashes. 

"Don't pretend like you don't know why. You stole from the prince." The guard spat. 

"Y/n? Is this true?" Your father asked. Your face drained of colour. That person you stole from was the prince? You even insulted him! God, you were in a shit ton of trouble. 

"I found the coins!" One of the guards exclaimed from behind you, coming out of your room with your brother, hitting the guards back with closed fists to give the money back. 

"Stay off, brat. This is not yours. It belongs to the royal family." The guard kicked your brother in the gut, sending him flying away. You growled at him, pouncing at him with a fist ready.

"Don't you dare touch him!" You yelled, swinging your fist at his face. Before the punch could land, another guard kicked you in the side, sending you crashing into a wall. 

"Now you're in trouble not only for stealing but also for trying to harm a royal guard," One of the guards took you by the arm, pulling you to your feet, "Prince Katsuki will see to you personally."

"Like I give a rat's ass!" You spat, thrashing as the guard held your hands behind you. Another guard tried getting your legs to stop flailing but got his jaw bruised instead. Your family was huddled together in a corner, timidly watching you try to pry away from the guards. 

"Get off me!" You yelled as you got dragged away and got tied onto a horse with your mouth and hands tied so the guards wouldn't have to listen to your constant yelling and complaints. 

Once at the ginormous castle, two guards held you by your arms, dragging you inside. You shuddered when you felt the cold from the marble floor travel up your spine. You must've lost your shoes when the guards yanked you around. 

"Mind your manners when in the presence of the prince." One of the guards said, his fingers digging into the flesh of your arms. You shot him a glare, trying to free your arm from his grip. What was the point of bruising your arms when your hands were already tied behind you? 

The doors to the throne hall were opened, and the guards dragged you inside, forcing you to your knees so you were bowing low. When they let your head lift from the floor, you dared to look up. 

There he was, Prince Katsuki, sitting on the prince's chair beside the King's and Queen's throne, blood-red eyes mindlessly boring into you. All that you heard about the prince was true-- stunning crimson eyes, spiky ash-blonde hair, and flawless skin. Behind his lethal beauty was evident rage and fury.

Bakugo could see your gaze wavering between the floor and him as you tried to keep that sassy and brave front. Your hair was in a mess, and your clothes were dirty from being pushed and kicked around. He told his guards not to use force, and here you were, looking like you fell into a wrestling pit. The guards standing behind you didn't look any better, with scratches and bruises on their faces. 

"Your Royal Highness," One of the guards behind you said, "This woman not only stole from you but also put up a fight with us."

"Care to explain?" Bakugo rasped.

"Your guard kicked my ten-year-old brother in the stomach. Was I supposed to stand and watch?" You snarled at the prince, your teeth bared. Bakugo's eyes shifted to the guards, demanding an answer. 

"Y-Your Highness, the child was clinging to my back and-"

"So you kicked him." Bakugo cut him off, standing up and coming down the steps that lead to the thrones, stopping in front of you, "Get out, all of you. I'll deal with you later."

"But, Your High-"

"Now."

You gulped once the guards were gone, and although you hated them, you wished they'd stay since being alone with the prince made you feel like you were going to get slaughtered like a lamb. You held his gaze from your position on the floor, not letting your fear slip through your eyes. 

"Stand." He ordered.

"Are one-word sentences all you know to speak, princeling?" You smiled at him with sickly sweet poison. "I really like it on the floor. It's comfortable."

You let out a gasp when he suddenly pulled you to your feet, the fabric of your shirt balled in his fist, his maroon eyes dangerously close, "Watch who you're talkin' to, sweetheart," he growled, his voice reverberating in his chest, "I could throw you in prison forever, and you wouldn't be able to do anything about it."

"Must be fun being a spoiled prince, eh." Bakugo looked down at your devilish grin. Weren't you afraid of him one bit? Prison was the place every little thief like you went to, but something about you stirred amusement and another mysterious feeling deep within him. It wasn't every day he got to see a brat like you roast a prince right at his face and take on five guards at once.

"Besides," you went on. "I'm going to go to prison anyway. I might as well strut in there with a show." 

"You have some nerve speaking to me like that," He scowled, letting your shirt go, "You ain't going to prison." 

"Huh?" 

"Yer servin' three months at the castle." He said. "And if I find you snooping around and stealing, I'm chopping your ugly fingers off." 

"I'm not scrubbing your dishes and sweeping your damn floors." You scoffed. "Throw me in prison instead."

"Does that pretty little mouth of yours ever shut up, or does it have a fucking answer to everything?" Bakugo glared at you. You had some guts rejecting his orders like he was some commoner you'd known all your life. 

"I'm not working at the castle, and that's final." You said firmly. 

A hint of fear flashed in your eyes when Bakugo bared his teeth at you, approaching you with slow strides. You kept backing away until your back was pressed into the doors behind you, your chest tightening when you saw his hand rest on the hilt of the sword dangling from his side. 

He lowered his head to your level, roughly grabbing your chin and making you look into his eyes. When you tried to shift to the side, he put an elbow on the door, trapping you. Looking into his deep red eyes, you felt your heartbeat quicken, knots forming in your stomach. 

"I'm the one who decides what your punishment is. Do not forget that," he purred into your ear. You almost shivered. His voice was supposed to be scaring you, not making your heart race, "Either you work here for three months or get your hands cut off."

He pulled away, smirking down at you satisfyingly. He could tell you were flustered as you glared daggers at him, "Am I clear?"

Your gaze shifted down to the floor, "Yes."

He called for the servants to take you to the servant quarters and get the filth cleaned off you. You sat in an unnecessarily big tub filled with warm water as the other servants scrubbed your body raw. You blankly let them, still trying to process what on earth had just happened. After your bath, you were forced into a night suit that would have been considered low quality for the royals and nobles, but it was more expensive than anything you ever owned. 

"What kind of punishment is this?" You muttered, lying on the comfortable bed in your new room. 

It was a very big punishment.

It all started going down from the moment you woke up. The head maid scolded you for not waking up early enough and rushed you into the kitchen, where you got yelled at by the chef for not washing the dishes quickly enough.

"What are you even good at?!" He yelled, pushing you aside when you somehow managed to burn the stew he made. All you were supposed to do was stand and watch it.

"I'm good at hunting." You mumbled.

"Too bad you're not here for hunting," He gave you a sour look as he diced up the ingredients to remake the stew. 

After the dishes were done, you were handed a mop and a bucket to sweep the great hall. You took a deep breath, stepping into the thankfully empty great hall. It was just mopping the floor. You wouldn't mess this up, right?

As you mopped the floor, you tried convincing yourself this was better than rotting in the prison for who knows how long. You just wanted to go back to bed and let your poor back rest, but it was still only the afternoon. Sighing, you stepped towards the water bucket to dip the mop inside, accidentally knocking the bucket in the process. You deadpanned, tears forming in your eyes. This castle brought nothing but bad luck. 

You cringed when the soapy water soaked into the long red carpet that led up to the King's and Queen's thrones. You turned around in horror when you heard the doors to the great hall open, slipping and falling to your ass. The fact that it was the prince that opened the doors only made things worse. 

"Are you okay there?" A red-haired man asked, stepping forward. 

"M' fine." You mumbled, slipping down again when you tried standing again. 

"Looks like someone's having a great time," The prince snickered. If he wasn't a prince you'd have slapped him in the face to wipe away that mean smirk. You scowled at him, stopping when you saw a hand in front of your face. It was the red-haired man looking down at you with a warm grin. You noticed he had interesting sharp teeth. You put your hand in his, letting him hoist you up.

He inspected your face for a second and then looked at Bakugo, raising an eyebrow. You were the very same girl Kirishima saw bump into Bakugo yesterday. He was sure Bakugo said that you were a pickpocket, then what were you doing here in the servant's attire?

"Go get someone else to clean it since you clearly can't," Bakugo ordered. You clenched your jaw at him, grabbing a fistful of your dress. Why did he have to be so mean and harsh with his words? You would have loved to hit his head with the mop but knew better than to give in to your intrusive thoughts. You stormed past him and got some rags to clean up the mess you made.

Once Kirishima was sure you were out of earshot, he turned to Bakugo, "Why is she here, prince?" 

"Serving three months in the castle for stealing, hurting five guards and being a brat," Bakugo replied in a matter-of-fact tone. 

"Couldn't you have put her to prison instead?"

"Tch, are you trying to tell me what to do?" 

"No, my prince." 

Bakugo sighed, turning his back to Kirishima, eyes plastered to the floor, "Her family has been struggling with basic necessities," he said after a moment of silence. "I learnt that her father had a fabric business before the war started, but his shop burnt down during the war. He hasn't been working ever since."

Kirishima blinked at Bakugo, baffled he had delved so deep into someone's background. "A lot of people are still suffering even though it's been years." He said.

"Yeah," Bakugo agreed. "She lives in a pretty shitty neighbourhood, too, now."

"Is there something that can be done to help?" Kirishima asked.

"I've already done what I could." Bakugo grunted, "They ain't gotta worry about rations. I talked to Father about it, and he agreed to send monthly rations to the entire neighbourhood."

"That's nice," Kirishima smiled. He had a feeling you not only stole Bakugo's money at the weekend market yesterday but also accidentally stole his heart.

Tags: @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @zaiban2989

[0097linersb]

DESPERADO

Pairings: Jaehyun x Reader

Genre: Idk tbh kind of drama kind of angsty probs smut

Summary: Sitting in an old Monte Carlo.

A/N: GUYS gUESS WHAT!! I wrote this when I was like 17, over 7 years ago lol but I found it on my old computer and I kind of like it for some reason???? BUT THIS IS SUCH A CLICHE OMG A MAFIA AU SHOWSTOPPING NEVER BEEN DONE BEFORE!! Alsoo this will be really short, 3-4 chaps max

Chapter 1

You could feel all eyes on you, burning holes into your skin as you entered the Diner. The whole room suddenly went quiet as soon as you closed the glass door behind you – But that could also be an illusion caused by the loud thumping deep in your ears. 

You force yourself to walk to the farthest booth available, praying your wobbly legs would not fail you like you felt they would, trying to ignore the whispers from the workers; It was kind of indecorous, but you could understand it given the situation. A young woman, in her pretty pink uniform, carefully approached your table. She looked kind, even worried maybe. 

“Can I get you something?” She nervously asked and you felt thankful she did not ask you any personal questions. 

“A chocolate milkshake, please.” 

Your voice was trembling and barely there but the waitress excused herself as you went back to ripping a napkin into dozens of small pieces, unable to get your hands to stop fidgeting. You probably wouldn’t be able to hold anything down in your stomach but you just needed to try and get your mind to stop screaming for a few minutes. The sun was setting and the darkness taking over the sky made you even more anxious, letting you know they already had enough time to realize what was going on. Every car that passed outside made you nervously look up and slide even further down your seat like it would help you hide. You should have changed, you would attract less attention then - At the same time, it’s not like you had an option, really. 

You jumped when the waitress, Moira said her nametag, placed the brown drink in front of you. You felt like throwing up at the sight but slowly forced yourself to swallow the cold liquid, despite your body’s complaints. It was a small town, not far enough, news of your whereabouts wouldn’t take long to reach their ears. You had to go somewhere, soon. 

 You didn’t have enough money for a ticket out of state - You barely had enough money to pay for the milkshake you ordered. The car you had stollen didn’t have enough gas to take you anywhere and even if it did, you didn’t have the ability to drive it any farther than you had already struggled to do. You hands shaked as you cursed yourself for not thinking things through. 

You wondered about your mother; she was most likely crying. 

No, she was definitely crying. You would be too in her place. If the adrenaline wasn’t rushing through your body to keep you alert, you would probably be in tears right now. It was not like you to cry, but you could find an excuse for yourself considering you were facing a life or death (mainly death) situation. You just hoped they had enough consideration for you to give you a simple death, enough for your mom to be able to look at your lifeless body without screaming in panic - Something about knowing you were minutes away from a gun barrel pointed at your head brought out the cliché poet in you. 

“You should follow the road up north; it doesn’t have a pretty scenery but it’s by far the fastest way to get to the Interstate,” Moira’s conversation with a man three booths down from yours suddenly caught your attention, ears perking up. 

“Is there a hotel close by?” The owner of the deep voice asked. 

“There’s only one downtown, we don’t get many tourists around here. There are also some motels around two cities up.” 

“Perfect, thank you.” 

Your eyes widened when the stranger stood up, you didn’t have much time to think. You hurriedly went through your bag, trying to find some coins to leave in the table beside your half-finished drink before running out of the door as fast as you could, tripping more than once over your long dress as you crossed the parking lot after what seemed to be your last hope. 

“Wait!” You screamed at the man opening the door of his car. 

He stared at you in surprise and you tried to catch your breath, managing to let out a tangled “Take me with you.” 

“Excuse me?” His eyebrows furrowed. He didn’t look very pleased to be interrupted. 

“Please. I need to get out of state,” You pleaded. 

“I’m sorry. I can’t get caught in a runaway bride’s drama at the moment,” The stranger apologized with a dismissive nod of his head before resuming the motion to enter his car. 

“Wait. I have a car, an expensive one. You can have it!” 

“I already have a car, as you can see. Good luck, though.” 

“Please,” Your voice breaks as you beg, volume barely above a whisper. That man was all you had. “They are going to kill me.” 

The tall male in front of you examined you from bottom to top in silence and you felt yourself cowering under his tense jaw, which was ironic considering the people you were used to being around. It was when you felt tears starting to sting your eyes that the man took a deep annoyed breath and ended with a cold, “Get in.” 

“Thank you so much,” You finally let out all the air you were holding, hurrying to the passenger seat before he could change his mind. 

You were silent as the man started the car and drove out of the Diner’s parking lot, his harsh gaze showing you he didn’t want to be bothered. You closed your eyes and tried to regulate your breathing, repeating to yourself it was all going to be fine; they wouldn’t be able to catch you if you kept moving. When you felt your heart rate slowing down, you finally let your eyelids fly open, watching the white skirt of your dress (which was now black from dirt) in disgust. It was a beautiful dress, big and flamboyant, you were sure it cost a lot of money – You just wished you were someone who wanted to wear it. 

You realized you still had the veil positioned carefully on your hair, although it was probably crooked and ripped by now. You harshly untangled the pins from your strands and rolled the window down, throwing the white fabric out on the road before closing the glass again. The man next to you watched in amusement but still didn’t say a word. You wished you could sleep, something you haven’t done in weeks – But you didn’t think you would be able to for a while. Your quick naps out of exhaustion were getting you through the days. Barely. 

At least the sky was pretty, a dark purple with little shiny dots all over. The moon was nowhere to be found, maybe it was ashamed of you too. 

“Ugly fiancé?” The man’s voice surprised you. It was clear he was trying to humor you, but his expression didn’t match his tone. 

“I wish,” You sighed, leaning your head back in the seat and forcing your voice to work. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” 

“Jaehyun.” 

“Nice to meet you, Jaehyun. Please don’t be a serial killer.” 

“It seems like that would be the least of your problems.” 

“I guess you’re right,” You smiled, but it did not reach your eyes. You took another deep breath before asking, “What are you running away from?” 

“Who says I’m running from something?” 

“Why would you ask what’s the fastest way out of town if you weren’t?” 

“Maybe I don’t like traffic.” 

“Traffic in this area? I’m desperate but I’m not stupid. Did you actually kill someone? I was only joking -” 

“My personal business concerns you as much as yours concerns me.” 

“I’m not frugal with my secrets.” 

“Entertain me then.” 

“It’s barely as fascinating as it seems: My family’s business had me entangled with some dangerous people who forced me into a commitment I was not interested in partaking in, none of the parties will be very happy with my little rebellious act.” 

“Are you really putting your life at risk just to not be part of society’s patriarchal plot?” 

“This is hardly about that, although I wouldn’t expect you to understand, as a man. Plus, my life would be at stake anyways; At least like this, I can worry from a distant beautiful beach, with a sweet cold drink in hand, instead of being fucked by a man who wouldn’t mind killing me one bit. I was thinking about Mexico.” 

“If they are anywhere as powerful as you describe, it would not be hard to find you there.” 

“Right. Maybe Brazil then, who knows?” You shrugged, knowing these were all insane dreams you were probably never going to be able to experience. It was fun to amuse yourself. “What about you, where are you going?” 

“Far.” 

“So mysterious,” You roll your eyes. “It’s not like I can afford going out babbling about your plans.” 

“I’d rather not give you the chance.” 

“Suit yourself. Thank you once again for the ride.” 

Jaehyun only nodded. 

As you watched the cities pass in silence, you noticed your throat was very dry, but you imagined you must be arriving at your destination if the man next to you was following Moira’s tips. It was already late and your whole body ached, the adrenaline’s effect fading bit by bit as you tried to fool yourself that you were safe. 

“Why are you helping me, knowing I’m involved with dangerous people?” You wondered. Truthfully, you knew it was a stupid question since you were the one begging for his help, you just wanted to hear him talk more, his deep voice made your vision stop spinning for a few seconds. 

“I can fight,” He shrugged. Again with the toneless jokes. 

“I don’t think fists would be very useful against the Kim family,” You chuckle at the absurdity, you probably had all local thugs looking for you as you spoke.  

Who would have thought this is how your life would turn out? 

“Who said I don’t have guns?” He smirked at you for the first time, and you just stared at him, an unreadable look on your face that made him slightly nervous. “Don’t act surprised, you’re the one who entered a stranger’s car.” 

“I’m not. I was about to marry Kim Doyoung, weapons don’t shock me,” You sigh, hiding the fact you had a handgun (which you had stolen from your fiancé's collection) in your purse - Maybe you would need it, Jaehyun could turn out to be, in fact, a serial killer after all. 

“Kim Doyoung, huh? You really got yourself in a big mess. His father isn’t someone to play with.” 

“Do you know him?” 

“I met him briefly for a business transaction a few years back.” 

“Your line of work just keeps sounding shadier and shadier, should I be worried?” 

“You tell me, you’re the mafia’s doll.” 

“You’re really thinking about handing me over and asking for a reward, aren’t you?” You squeezed your eyes at the man. 

“Maybe,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone but you knew he wasn’t being serious, as you were indeed, heading North. Regardless, growing up with your family taught you to never trust anyone. 

You caught yourself pitying your mother once again when Jaehyun slowed his car into a Motel’s parking lot with a simple “We’re here.” 

You languidly nodded and got out of the vehicle, stretching your sore limbs before staring at the man in front of you in expectation. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” He shook his head and opened the trunk of the car to get his luggage. “I’m booking myself a room and you can go on your merry way; it was nice meeting you.” 

“I have nowhere to go.” 

“Luckily for you, we are in the perfect place for you to spend the night.” 

“Do I look like I have any money?” You rolled your eyes. 

“Well, not my problem,” He shrugged, closing the trunk and making his way towards the building’s reception. “I’m sure you can find a gentleman that would be very happy to pay to spend the night with you.” 

“Can’t I just sleep with you?” You ignored his suggestion of prostitution, not judging it worthy of your attention. 

“And have the Kims knowing that not only did I help their pretty bride in her escape, but also shared a bed with her?” He quickly turned around so you could see how his chest rumbled with laughter before going back on his way. “Funny.” 

Why was he being so complicated? 

You quickly looked around to see if anyone could possibly be watching, but decided it was dark enough for your foolish just-thought-out plan. You were not really proud of what you did next but, in your excuse, you truly were desperate and the way your mind was all over the place didn’t help you make much sense of the situation. 

“Jaehyun,” You called, purse briefly discarded on the floor next to you. 

The man sighed and turned back once again, but he stopped laughing when he saw you – Jaehyun’s face flashed in shock for a single second before it morphed into an amused expression instead. Head cocked to the side; he surprised you as he leisurely started approaching your figure once again. 

“Oh, princess,” He lowly chuckled at your shaking grip on the gun’s handle. “If you’re going to point that at me, you better know how to use it.” 

“Take me wherever you’re going with you,” You demanded, ignoring his remark. You weren’t actually going to shoot him, you just wanted to, to… - this really wasn’t a well-thought-out plan. 

“I truly can’t, but I appreciate the passion,” He smiled, raising his hand to calmly aim the gun at the floor instead of at his chest. 

 You simply used the side of the weapon to slap his hand away before pointing it back where you wanted it, “Why not?” 

“I’m heading across the ocean.” 

“That sounds perfect, I’m sure you can manage to get me some fake documentation like you probably did for yourself.” 

“And what do I get out of it?” 

“My company. Also, I do know how to shoot.” 

“Do you really?” He raised an eyebrow at you, staring at you like you were the most entertaining thing he had ever seen in his whole life.  

It was unnerving. 

“Yes. I can help you with whatever dubious business you have, I’m a fast learner,” You inform, not really knowing what you were offering yourself for, but figuring anything would be better than being the mafia’s bitch. 

“C’mon,” He rolled his eyes, but let out a delighted chuckle anyways when he turned around. You knew he was making fun of you, but it didn’t matter, it got you what you wanted. “And put that thing away.” 

You hastily picked up your purse and shoved your gun back inside, running after Jaehyun to catch up to him. 

                              _______________________ 

You learned after a few days that Jaehyun wasn’t a man of many words. He also refused to share a bed with you, always asking whatever motel you passed by for a room with double beds, and if they didn’t have one, he would just sleep on the floor despite your complaints. It was frustrating that you still didn’t know what it was that he did to make money, and every time you asked, he simply said it was no job for women, which you knew was something he said just to annoy you. 

You could tell he didn’t put much faith in your offer to help him, but he still entertained you, letting you know he would give you a chance to participate when the day came. Honestly, if he wanted to drag you around the country for free, you weren’t going to complain. 

Jaehyun was incredibly annoying with all of his superiority sense. When he spoke, only back-handed remarks or teasing comments left his mouth, it was clear he didn’t take you seriously and it was slowly driving you insane – If he called you doll one more time, you wouldn’t think going back begging on your knees to Doyoung would be such a bad idea. 

 But, despite his whole attitude problem, Jaehyun was nice to you in silence: He lent you his clothes when you didn’t have any and took you to a store downtown to buy new ones when you passed through a city he has been to before, not complaining about having to pay for all of it. You remembered how he silently watched as you set your wedding dress on fire in the parking lot of the random motel you chose for the night, or how he took you to the movies after you tried to call your mother from a payphone and ended up sobbing for the first time in years. 

The man left you alone during most of the days, running whatever business he had in the different cities you visited. He sometimes came back with cuts and bruises and you cleaned him up with a harsh look on your face, but at the end of the day, you had no right judging him when he was the one bringing food and putting shelter over your head. He eventually taught you how to do the guns’ maintenance and at least now you had a role, getting the weapons tidy and ready for the next day. You wondered for how long he would accept carrying you around without asking for anything in return, he didn’t seem all that interested in bedding you and he knew you were as poor as one comes; Maybe he would just kill you. 

“Have you ever killed a man?” You had asked one day as you cleaned the inside of your gun’s barrel, on the little table at the corner of your rented room. 

The man had simply looked up from the newspaper he was reading on his bed and raised an eyebrow, “Have you?” 

“Can you ever answer anything I ask?” 

“Can you ever pay for your own stuff?” 

You dropped the subject after that. 

As cold as Jaehyun was, it was clear he was beginning to grow fond of you. At first, he had treated you like some sort of charity project to acquire his pass to heaven, but as time passed, he started unfolding layer by layer. One day he brought a wine bottle to celebrate something, he didn’t tell you what exactly, but he did tell you all about how his mother used to study French and he learned it just by hearing her practice. He also told you how they used to plan on moving to France when he was little, how he and his mother spent hours talking before going to bed about how their little house would be, him promising her he would help take care of the garden so they could have many beautiful flowers. Both of you sat on cheap wooden chairs in the motel’s parking lot, drinking the wine under the stars as if you lived inside poetry – Jaehyun started smiling after the fourth glass and you did believe life was art in that moment. 

“My family has some property in France, I’ll take you and your mother there one day to show you my gratitude,” You offered with an easy smile. 

The man turned his head to look at you, you could see his dimples but his eyes looked sad, “Your family´s really rich, huh?” 

“Old money.” 

“How are you adjusting to this new side of life, princess?” He joked, meaning all the cheap rooms and dirty bathrooms your life had become. 

“It has been… An experience,” You laughed lowly, like being loud would disrupt the universe above you. “I’d trade my old life for showering in a gas station’s sink any day.” 

Your quickly developing bond was made clear when one-night, Jaehyun got back to your shared room to find you trembling on the floor, hugging your legs as blood stained you all over. Jaehyun didn’t even look at the body next to you on the floor, he just silently picked you up and took you to the bathroom. 

“Are you hurt?” He asked after placing you on the toilet and turning the hot water on to fill the tub. 

You shook your head in denial, eyes lost on the floor. 

He didn’t ask you any questions that night, he simply undressed you and placed you on the warm water, softly rubbing all the blood from your skin and hair for hours. After emptying and refilling the tub for the third time so the water wouldn’t be red anymore, Jaehyun left you soaking and when you finally had the strength to get up and go back to your room, the sun was up and Jaehyun had already taken care of everything. You didn’t have it in you to ask what he had done with the body, but that day he drove for hours to get you out of there. You could see he was exhausted but with a tense jaw, he ignored as you cried for him to stop, only parking the next night when he felt you would be safe for the time being. 

 That night he did sleep with you, held your hair up while you threw up and forced you to eat whatever he managed to find in the reception. 

Eventually, the shock of playing God became bearable and Jaehyun started pestering you about your gun. You had tried leaving it behind on 4 different occasions but he had always picked it up and brought it with him, hiding it in your purse just in case you needed it. You just didn’t feel comfortable carrying it around anymore, the feeling of warm blood on the palm of your hands was not something to be taken lightly. 

“Now that we know for sure they’re after you and catching onto us, you should always have your gun,” He had lectured and you simply closed your eyes, not needing to be reminded. 

Some nights later, he got to the motel of choice to an empty room and completely panicked, heart almost jumping out of his throat as he saw the silent space until he eventually found the note you had left on the bedside table. 

Went into the woods, will be back late. 

He didn’t wait, immediately locking the door and rushing into the trees behind the motel. He felt like he walked for hours but it was probably what his nerves made it feel like, cold sweat running down his neck. When he did find you, all the screaming about irresponsibility he had prepared and the desire to tie you up somewhere so you would just behave, were forgotten at the sight in front of him. 

“You have a bad left eye; you should always aim a little bit more to the right.” 

You jumped in surprise at the sudden voice but followed the instructions. You had always been a good shooter, even before Doyoung - but Jaehyun was right, you did have a bad left eye. 

“The carnival is in town,” You had excitedly informed a busy Jaehyun on a Friday afternoon. “Saw it on the newspaper.” 

“Hm.” 

“Can we go?” 

“No.” 

“Please?” 

“Do you perhaps enjoy having a target on your face?” He looked up at you from the bag he was organizing. 

“We’ve been running for weeks, there’s no way they know where we are. Please?” 

“Stop whining, you’re not a child and it’s not cute.” 

Later that day, he took you to the carnival. 

He was tense the whole night and only agreed to stay for an hour, but you managed to convince him to ride the Ferris Wheel and buy you some game tickets. You knew you would have to leave behind all the prizes once you had to skip town and hit the road again - You sure complained about that, earning an eye roll and silence in response, but a few days later you found the plushie elephant you had liked the most hidden in the trunk of Jaehyun’s car. 

You had lost track of the time a long time ago, days started losing their meaning to all the different rooms and cheap restaurants. Your location was a mystery that didn’t really intrigue you, but you figured you had probably already crossed around half of the country by the change of scenery. Jaehyun didn’t leave you every day, he once in a while stayed “home” and you were surprised to find yourself hoping for those moments when he would read his French books out loud from his bed and you would enjoy the sound of his voice as you stared at him – But pretended to be sleeping every time he looked up. 

On days he did have to leave though, he didn’t always wake up paranoid. Occasionally, he gave you some money to go explore whatever town you were staying in for the next day or two. You always returned with a little trinket you thought he would like, and he always scolded you for spending money on useless things, but you were way past the point of feeling like a child under his gaze anymore – You just had to learn how to hide the smile on your face when you caught him wearing one of the things you had “gifted” him.  

You imagined he was happy at not being bothered by your constant whining over being left alone and bored every day. 

“You know what I miss the most?” You lightly kicked some water at the man sunbathing next to you, ignoring his annoyed groan. “From being rich, I mean.” 

“Having servants who were obliged to put up with you?” 

“The Balls. They were quite boring at first, but at the end of the night when most guests had already left, the band always started playing better music for me and I had so much fun dancing,” You smiled fondly at the memory, eyes lost deep into the pool. “Doyoung was an excellent lead.” 

“Did you love him?” 

“Sometimes,” You shrugged. “He was a gentleman, but at the end of the day we had many fundamental differences.” 

“Like torturing people.” 

“Like torturing people,” You nodded. “He tried teaching me how to drive, you know how a woman driving is viewed by society.” 

“What a good man,” Jaehyun rolled his eyes sarcastically. 

“Never said he was. But he treated me well, besides the whole trying to make me his property thing.” 

“Do you think there is such a thing as being morally grey?” 

“You, caring for my opinion?” You raised an eyebrow at him, even though he couldn’t see it behind the funky sunglasses you had bought the day before. 

“You’re the only person I have to talk to,” He shrugs. “Entertain me.” 

“Your luck. But I guess I do, yeah.” 

“Why?” 

“Well, I’m not sure. I used to think people were either good or bad, but now I see that as with most situations in life, there is no such thing that is completely black or white. Look at yourself, for instance.” 

“And what do you mean by that?” 

“Exactly what I said, I still have no idea what you do with your life, but I’ve gathered enough to know it’s not accounting. But you’re nice to me. Also – At the end of the day, I did abandon my fiancé at the altar and killed a man, but I don’t feel like I’m a bad person. I think.” 

“You’re wearing heart-shaped pink glasses, you don’t have much to worry about,” He smiled at you, his eyes squinting - You hadn’t noticed they did that (It’s not like Jaehyun smiled much). 

“Is this the face of a killer?” You joked, pressing your palm to your cheek. 

“You kill one man and start acting like you’re going to dethrone the Kims,” He rolls his eyes amusedly and you laugh. “Want some lessons on torture next, princess?” 

“As if you could teach me,” You provoke, trying to get him to finally tell you about his line of work. 

“You’ll need to be smarter than that,” He winks at you and you huff in disappointment. 

You stared at him quietly for a while, he looked relaxed for once, even happy if that wouldn’t be pushing it too hard.  

Jaehyun was lying down next to the pool, one arm behind his head and his eyes closed. The golden light of the soon-to-set sun hit his skin and made it look like honey and his ashy bangs messily hit his eyelids. For once in your life, you felt your heart warm, like if you could spend the rest of your years staring at Jaehyun looking this peaceful, you would. He just felt familiar, like home – It was you and him alone against the world. 

“We need to cut your hair,” You smile fondly, reaching your arm out to move his strands away from his face. 

……………………………………………………………. 

Even though on most days you felt your heart burst in joy at the jiggling sound of the door handle when Jaehyun got home, you often found your heart feeling the same at the angry bang of the door behind his leaving form after a fight. You sometimes felt guilty over screaming at the man who was most literally keeping you alive and giving you everything in exchange of nothing, but he was just so simply infuriating and his patronizing little “princess” and “doll” remarks didn’t always sit well with you, especially after a restless night filled with anxiety and worrying that one of the Kims' men could just burst into your room and stab you to death.   

Jaehyun was not a soft man, he had no problem with throwing things in your face or making comments that could almost literally pierce you when he was angry, but thankfully, after everything that you had to go through and almost being sold to strangers, neither were you. If the Kims didn’t get to you first, you were sure the two of you would kill each other one day, there was only so much of hearing about how you were a spoiled brat with absolutely nothing in life that you could take. 

One of these days, Jaehyun came back way after midnight, thankful you were already asleep because he could still feel the fire in his veins ready to burn you if you gave him the chance. He was already stressed enough with work businesses; he didn’t need you to throw him over the edge with your sarcastic comments.  

Jaehyun quietly took a shower and got on his bed, throwing the covers around in annoyance until he heard you sniffing. His whole body tensed, alert. 

“Y/N?” 

Silence. 

You tried to be quiet, not wanting to deal with Jaehyun in that moment but wanting him to hold you at the same time. It was the fourth time that week that you had woken up desperate after horrible dreams, ranging from your maid being tortured to Jaehyun never coming back home. That night, you had dreamed about your mom begging you to come back or else the Kims would kill her, she looked bloody and puffy from crying, bruises and scratches all over her body as she sobbed and screamed in pure panic at the sight of her torturer. 

“I need to go back,” You whispered after a while, eyes glued to the ceiling. 

Next chap soon

[vigilante24ish]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Chapter 1. - Chapter 2. - Chapter 3

Chapter 4. - Chapter 5. - Chapter 6

Chapter 7. - Chapter 8. - Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Word Count: 1588

Chapter 10:

You approached Jen, who was trying to think.

"What ingredients do you need?"

You had not been around a lot of Potion Witches but you knew Jen would need certain things to start making the potion.

You merely prayed you would find them soon enough in this huge house, for enough time had already been wasted.

Jen thought carefully for a moment. "I need frankincense and the gut of a eusocial insect."

Alice extended her hand, grabbing Teen's lower arm. "We'll handle that first part." She said and, along with the boy, rushed to find the two ingredients.

Jen took a deep breath, trying not to overthink or let the ticking sound of the clock distract her. She needed to be concentrated, for there was no room for error.

"I need a corpse that's been decaying for at least 30 million years."

Your eyebrows went up, not expecting that such a thing could actually be part of an antidote. It was in those times you really hated potions and was reminded how complicated they were.

"Is that something that's available? Cause I don't know what you're talking about." Agatha commented, anxiously waiting for the swelling to go away.

"Why do I have to translate? It's zooplankton." Jen explained, but that did not seem to ring a bell to any of you. "It's in petroleum products."

Suddenly, Lilia seemed to get an idea. "That we maybe can do."

Agatha nodded. "Lilia, let's go."

You watched the two women go and you glanced at Jen, feeling odd to be left with her.

"You help me find a cauldron or something to use!"

You could only nod as you both started to search the kitchenware, but nothing seemed fitting enough or your cause or big for that matter.

Your eyes went to the square sink, and a crazy idea popped into your mind. It was crazy. It was perhaps wrong, but right now, you were literally fighting for your life.

"The sink!" You pointed out, earning her attention.

"Huh?" Jen exclaimed.

"The sink is big enough, and we can clog it, so the water remains."

Jen looked at you for a moment, wondering if you had gone mad, but then she looked at the sink, and she could somehow imagine it that it could work.

"Okay... I can work with this," she agreed and once again focused on you. "I need one more ingredient. Eye of Newt, " she explained, but you only ended up staring at her for a little longer, blinking slowly. In the end, she gave up. "You fill the sink, I will go get it"

"Sounds like a good plan" you agreed.

You would not really point out that potions was your weak spot, though by now it might have been obvious enough.

Choosing not to comment, you watched her leave in search of a spice pantry while you placed the tab in the sink and let the warm water flow.

The clock next to you kept counting down, making your heart race faster due to the poison but also due to worry. A constant reminder that your chances of survival kept getting smaller was not helping keep you calm.

You placed your hands on the kitchen bench and leaned slightly forward, head hung low. As you felt the hot steam coming from the pooling water, you closed your eyes and tried to take a few deep breaths.

You sure did not remember the trials being that stressful the last time, yet centuries had passed ever since.

The sound of the clock seemed to slowly go away, blending with the background noises until it was a deep but weak echo at the very back.

The sudden change made you open your eyes, wondering what was going on. To your surprise, the house seemed dark and with barely any light present.

The faint sound of multiple steps came from a door to the very left, and you found yourself slowly walking towards it, leaving behind the kitchen and the sink that was halfway full.

As you kept walking, the sound of steps grew louder, and as you took a turn to the left; you could not help but gasp silently.

The hallway or room or whatever was meant to be there seemed to have expanded and was covered in darkness. The only thing visible was the light of torches, casting shadows on the faces of some familiar men.

"Get the witch!" One shouted, lifting a heavy object with both hands.

"Grab her!"

"Demon!"

"Kill her"

Your instincts told you to run away, to get as far away as possible but sudden fear clouded your mind; paralysing you.

You could only stare as the angry men kept shouting, the sound of chains triggering dark memories within you.

"No... no, no...no..." You repeated again and again as you brought your hands in front of you, forming an X in a futile attempts to protect yourself from the hits that were about to come.

Your white magic glowed in your palms and around your fingers, your instincts about to use it to protect you against the old enemy that had been brought back.

Before it could, however, it was stopped.

A strong pair of arms grabbed your wrist and shook you faintly as a muffled voice barely reached your eyes.

Gathering the courage, you dared to open your eyes only to see yourself with one knee against the wooden floor.

The angry men from before were gone, the lights were back to normal, and Agatha was holding your wrists; having almost gotten hit by your magic.

"You are with me, sugar?" She asked, bending slightly as if trying to ensure you would not fall; her grip on your wrists strong.

When Agatha was coming back with Lilia, she felt triumphant. She knew she found the ingredients into Jen's products, and she would use that as a chance to expose her dirty secret about her "natural" products.

However, before she could; Lilia seemed to get trapped into some sort of illusion or nightmare; one that actually worried Agatha, mostly on what the old witch had seen to terrify her that much.

Once this was over, she had made her way towards the kitchen when she saw you; staring at nothing. She called your name but her smile had disappeared once she realised you were also fighting an illusion, one to make you beg.

Her instincts kicked in and she handed all of the products she had right into Lilia's hands, not caring if the older witch would be able to handle the new load and quantity.

She rushed towards you, worry evident in her eyes. Your white magic seemed to flare when she approached but she managed to grab your wrist and shake you slightly, hoping this would help you snap out of it.

When you opened your eyes, she could barely find the strength to stare into your pained and terrified gaze. She had never seen that look on you, and it worried her of what could have taken place while she was away from you.

When you finally calmed down, a deep breath left your lips, and you could finally answer her. "I... I am, " you replied as you stood up with her help.

She did not seem to truly believe you, but as the sound of a ticking clock reached you, you were reminded there was not a lot of time for small moments.

You moved back to the kitchen just in time to meet the others, seeing them almost all as terrified and shaken as you; with the exception of Teen, who had not drank the wine.

Wasting no time, you cleaned the bench of any unnecessary items and placed all the ingredients on the marble top. When Jen had seen her products, she parted her lips to argue but chose not to; and only instructed you to add the ingredients in the proper turn.

Then, another obstacle showed up.

"Any bright ideas on how to set this sink to boil?" Jen asked, since the warm water you had filled the sink with was mot enough.

Agatha looked at her. "You didn't think of this before?"

Jen held back the need to snap at the former dark witch. "In the middle of a traumatic hallucination? No, Agatha, I did not!"

She took a deep breath as she tried to ignore the sound of running water. Because if it wasn't enough the poison and the timer, the Road had chosen to flood everything outside.

And thanks to the crack Agatha made before, saltwater was entering and you all feared when the time was up; that crack would stop holding resistance.

Thankfully, Teen seemed to know of something.

"Is there a sous vide?" He asked, and Jen smiled, a passive congratulation in his quick thinking.

Agatha arched an eyebrow and looked at you and Lilia, the ones standing closer together.

"That's something people know about?" She asked, and you only shrugged your shoulders, as clueless as the others on the topic.

Potions were never your strong suit, and neither was cooking, pastry, or anything having to do with a kitchen. You were a descent gardener, but your talents, unfortunately, laid elsewhere.

"It's a super fancy cooking tool. It heats water to a specific temperature, so you can cook your meat evenly." Teen explained, coming back with a weird object in his hand.

The clock let ouf a louder ticking noise, a reminder that you were almost down to the last minutes.

Chapter 11

[sexyandcringe]

Hopeless romantic

Part 2 ◇ Part 3 ◇ Part 4

Warnings: none, osamu feeling inferior to tsumu :(

Content: osamu x reader, Angst (to fluff in the next chapters), hurt/comfort

A/n: Osamu's POV! I swear i'm gonna continue the story-line in the next chap.!

All of his childhood, Osamu felt like he was divided in half because of his brother: half food, half clothes, and half affection from their parents. It was almost like people didn’t see him as his own person. To the world, they were “The Twins”, never just “Osamu” and just “Atsumu”.

Time changed, things changed, they each started to become their own person, dreaming of different futures and places to go to.

Osamu always felt like he was the shadow to the light named Miya Atsumu, but he loved him dearly, so much that even today he half-expects to find Atsumu tangled up beneath the sheets of their childhood bunker bed, only to be greeted by the disappointing sight of his mirror, where his reflection gets blurred with the lines of his twin brother.

Osamu loved Atsumu but he didn’t want to hurt people like Atsumu often did; he told his brother that he was never going to become like him, so he became a little less selfish, less stubborn and less greedy.

With you, though, he is greedy. And he wants all of you.

He wants to hold you while you two watch some stupid anime called Haikyuu that you’re obsessed with, he wants to listen to you rambling about your day and your disdain for Alice, the insufferable colleague of yours; he wants to cook for you and feed you with his own hands and he wants to wait for you in your shared bed.

Osamu didn’t want a lot of things in his life, except his restaurant and his family, but since the day he saw you walk in with wet hair and drenched clothes, he started to want a lot more than he could afford, from the most mundane acts of waking up together to the intimacy of making love to you.

He is patient though, he lets your relationship grow steadily.

He thought that he would be happy with the leftover crumbles of affection that you gave him, but when you stopped coming to his shop, Osamu lost it completely. 

He was waiting for you around 7 PM like every Friday, he was feeling confident that day and wanted to suggest a casual outing to the neighbouring town's food fair.

(Nothing like a date, just a friendly hang out, he told himself).

His resolve wavered when you didn’t show up, not for one, not for two, but for three weeks in a row. He thought of all the possibilities as to why you didn’t come for so long, and he tried his best not to imagine the worst-case scenario. That can’t be. Nope.

On the third Friday of your absence, Osamu was crumbling. He closed the shop earlier than usual and went straight into the supermarket to get his guilty pleasure: the Butter Cookies.

His grandma always used to get them for him and unlike many other children, he never found sewing tools or anything of the sort in the box; his grandma knew that that kind of disappointment would be far too great for a six-year-old, food-enthusiast ‘Samu.

Well, grandma, that kind of disappointment is too great for a twenty-six-year-old ‘Samu too, because the guy was nearly panicking when he couldn’t find the boxes of Butter Cookies at their usual place. 

He was positive, though, because even after searching everywhere and not finding them, he didn’t lose hope. They will be available in another grocery store for sure. He got his priority straight and redirected his steps to another store across the town.

Luckily for him, the store was still open for another hour and it didn’t take him long to finally see his comfort food, in all its glory, staring at him from the shelf in the second aisle.

He was just about to go and pay for his box when he caught a glimpse of your silhouette, halting him in his tracks and confirming that it was, in fact, you.

Concern etches across his features as he looks at your tired and empty eyes, wondering if you have been taking care of yourself. Did you eat enough? Sleep enough?

The desire to call out to you is strong, leaving him no time to think before he is already approaching you, “That one will go bad in like 2 days.”

You look like a deer caught in headlights, doe eyes staring at him in what he wants to believe is awe.  You smile timidly before saying: “Hi Osamu, long time no see.” 

Yeah, long time no see, indeed. Osamu wants to be mad at you for making him so worried, for not coming to his shop, for not letting him know if you were doing okay, but he is just the owner of a restaurant and you’re just a regular client.

At least, you used to be a regular client. He can’t force you to like his company or his shop, no matter how much he wishes it.

Despite this, he can’t stop the bitter remark that slips past his lips,“Yeah, because someone hasn’t been coming to my restaurant lately.” you visibly wince, though he can’t seem to care enough.

You stutter some poor excuse as he inspects the other vegetables in the aisle, handing you one with a clean surface that will last at least five days, per Osamu’s calculations.

His hands touch yours and it makes him blush like a middle schooler.

You both talk about nothing and everything and in between the mundane banter and playful jabs, Osamu finds himself agreeing to a cooking lesson at your apartment.

And he couldn’t be happier.

Reblogs are really appreciated!

Tags: @lees-chaotic-brain @writingsofanomnivore @pressuredtreasure @k4sumis0u

[deliciousangelfestival]

bucky barned x depressed reader?!!!!!! ☕️🍪

Of course dear. This request is a perfect match for this continuation. I hope you like it.

Only The Lonely - Rain and Umbrella

Summary: After being saved by Bucky and freed from the debt collectors, you finally managed to get a job with normal working hours. You thought you’d lost your late-night train buddy, but Bucky still visits your place whenever he can.

Everything seemed fine—until you ran into someone from your past. Suddenly, all the feelings you had been holding back came flooding out.

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Genre: Romance, Action, Comedy, Slice Of Life

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way I publish my book Arrogant Ex Husband in Kindle. 👉 Now available on e-Kindle Amazon! << here's the link.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

“Giving what you can, even when you don’t have much, makes you the richest person,” your grandfather would always say. On his birthday, instead of celebrating, he spent the day handing out free food to the homeless. It was his way of teaching you that kindness ripples back in unexpected ways.

That lesson became your compass, even when life pushed you into the shadows. For three long years, you had been hiding—avoiding the gang that chased you, ducking into smaller, quieter corners of existence. Yet, even when you struggled, you gave. Like the day you paid for a mother’s milk at the store with the last of your cash, and somehow, you landed a cashier job at a car workshop that very evening.

And now, giving extra food—a small, unthinking act of kindness—had saved your life. Who would have thought your train buddy was capable of something like this?

After Bucky untied you from the ropes, you stumbled forward, your muscles sore and stiff. His strong hands caught your arm and steadied you without a word. The cold air outside the warehouse hit you hard, but you welcomed it—it was freedom. Around you, the gang members lay crumpled—some groaning, others fainted in various awkward positions.

You turned to Bucky, your breath visible in the freezing air. “How… how can I repay this?” you stammered, still processing everything.

Bucky looked around at the chaos, then back at you, expression unreadable. “You’ve already paid me.”

“What?” you whispered, confused.

He raised a gloved hand and pointed. “Monkey bread—for him,” he said, nodding toward a man sprawled against a crate.

Your eyes widened.

“Beef Wellington,” he continued, motioning to another unconscious man slumped against the hood of a car.

“And Fish and Chips—for him,” Bucky finished, nodding toward a guy dangling limply from a chain.

You blinked, processing his words. Then it hit you—your cooking. That’s what this was about. “Wait… you mean the meals I gave you at the shelter?” you asked incredulously.

Bucky didn’t respond, but the faintest flicker of amusement passed through his blue eyes.

The surreal realization was too much; you let out a soft, shaky laugh, half disbelieving. “So… that’s what you were doing when the lights went out?”

Bucky didn’t answer. Instead, he shrugged off his leather jacket and draped it over your shoulders. You flinched at the weight of it, stunned at the unexpected warmth—both from the jacket and from him.

“Let’s go home,” he said softly, his voice as gentle as the night air.

Since that night, something shifted between you and Bucky. The quiet man who barely spoke a word became a constant presence in your life. You didn’t know how he’d taken down the gang—single-handedly, no less—but he had ended the nightmare that stole your freedom.

Days passed, and slowly, you found pieces of your old life returning. The hotel manager—the one you used to gossip about with Bucky—tracked you down one afternoon. When he saw you, his expression softened, his tone low and warm.

“Life’s been hard on you,” he said, a quiet statement that felt like a hand on your shoulder.

You swallowed hard, your chest tight as you struggled to hold back tears.

He offered you a lifeline: “I have a friend who owns a small café. They’re looking for a barista. I know you’re good with coffee—you’re overqualified, honestly.”

Your breath hitched. A job. A normal job. No more vampire hours. No more hiding.

You smiled weakly, trying to speak past the lump in your throat. “Thank you,” you whispered, barely audible.

But relief came with a bittersweet edge. A job with regular hours—9 a.m. to 4 p.m.—meant no more morning train rides with Bucky. Those quiet, unspoken moments had become a comfort, and losing them stung more than you expected.

When Bucky heard you suggest a visit to your café, he didn’t hesitate. “I’ll stop by after I wake up.”

You paused, curiosity tugging at you. “Wait... what time do you usually sleep?”

“Sleep?” Bucky’s voice trailed off, his expression unreadable. Silence followed as he stared off at nothing. For him, sleep wasn’t a comfort. Resting for three long months in a coma had left its mark—it was enough sleep for a lifetime. Being idle, trapped in a body that couldn’t move, was unbearable. The thought of sleep brought back those suffocating memories, and he avoided it whenever he could.

Instead, Bucky spent his nights on late trains. The rhythmic clatter of wheels on tracks calmed him in a way nothing else did. The hum of motion, the gentle swaying, the faint, distant sound of announcements—it was constant, predictable, alive. Trains were his solace. There, in the quiet hum of machinery, Bucky didn’t feel alone.

“Well, aside from that,” you said, snapping him from his thoughts. “Visit my café, and I’ll give you the best sandwich you’ve ever had.” You paused, then remembered his preference. “Oh—come around 2 or 3 p.m. It’s quieter then. Fewer people.”

Bucky nodded, his usual silent agreement. “Alright.”

Since that day, Bucky stopped by your café whenever he could. Most weeks, he visited twice. Your co-workers noticed him immediately, his tall figure and striking demeanor impossible to miss. But none dared to approach him. Bucky had an aura—one that screamed, “Don’t talk to me.”

It had been a few months now, and the rainy season had settled in. One afternoon, the skies opened up. Rain pounded against the café windows, blurring the view outside. Bucky walked in, his clothes slightly damp, as if he’d miscalculated the storm. After finishing his sandwich, he stood to leave, glancing out at the relentless downpour.

“Wait!” You grabbed the bright yellow umbrella sitting near the counter and held it out to him.

Bucky frowned. “Do you have another color?”

You shook your head. “No. Take it.”

He stared at the umbrella, reluctant, almost as if offended by the bright hue. But after a moment, he sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. He took it.

“Bye!” you called as he left, your voice light with amusement.

☕☕☕☕

The next day started like any other. The café was warm and bustling as you worked behind the counter. The hum of the espresso machine, the hiss of steamed milk, and the soft murmur of conversations filled the air. You greeted customers with a smile, moved quickly between orders, and wiped down counters when the rush slowed.

Then you heard your name—spoken softly, yet somehow sharp enough to pierce through the noise.

You looked up, and your stomach dropped. Toby.

Your ex-boyfriend stood there. His face betrayed his shock. “It’s… wow. How? I don’t even know what to say. You’re… you’re here?”

Clearing your throat, you straightened, forcing calm into your voice. “I’m fine. Everything’s been taken care of. What do you want to order?”

Toby blinked, regaining focus. “Just… a regular hot Americano, please.”

“One hot Americano,” you repeated, turning to the machine. He followed your movements, lingering on the other side of the counter.

“You look good,” he said suddenly. His voice was soft, genuine. “I’m glad you’re okay now.”

You glanced at him, just for a moment. And then you saw it. The silver ring glinting on his left hand—fourth finger.

Before you could react, a deafening crack of thunder shook the café. Everyone flinched, covering their ears instinctively. Even Toby winced.

“That’s loud,” he muttered, forcing a smile. “I’m glad I brought an umbrella—just in case.”

“Yes,” you replied stiffly, handing him his coffee. “It’s always smart to prepare for the rain.”

Toby paused, his eyes lingering on you longer than they should have. “It’s good to see you,” he said softly. “And knowing you’re okay… it means a lot.”

You nodded slowly, your throat tight. “Goodbye, Toby.”

He left, the café door swinging shut behind him, the bell jangling softly.

The moment he was gone, everything around you felt distant, unreal. You went numb. Your hands moved on their own—wiping counters, refilling the sugar dispenser—but it was like your body was acting without you.

“I need to step out for a bit,” you mumbled to your coworker.

“Under this heavy rain? Are you serious?” she called, but you didn’t hear her. You were already out the door.

The rain hit you instantly, cold and heavy, soaking through your clothes in seconds. You squinted through the downpour, but you could still see him—Toby—his figure fading as he walked farther away.

Your feet hesitated at first, uncertainty freezing you in place. Should you follow him? But then he turned a corner, disappearing from sight, and something inside you broke.

You ran.

The rain blurred everything—your vision, your surroundings—but you didn’t stop. Water sloshed into your shoes, weighing you down, but you pushed forward. Your heart pounded, a warning deep in your chest. And then you saw him again.

He walked into a small gift shop. You slowed, panting, your chest heaving. Through the rain-slicked windows, you saw her—a woman—walking up to Toby with a smile. She leaned in and kissed his cheek.

CRACK. Another thunderclap shook the sky, louder this time. It felt like the thunder was mocking you.

☕☕☕☕

Back at the café, Bucky stepped inside, shaking water from the yellow umbrella you’d given him. His eyes swept the room quickly. “Where is she?” he asked your coworker.

“She went out. Said she needed to chase something. She didn’t take an umbrella or a jacket.”

Bucky didn’t wait to hear more. He turned and ran back into the rain, the yellow umbrella forgotten in his grip.

The rain was relentless. Bucky scanned the streets, his sharp gaze darting from one figure to the next. He moved quickly, following his instincts. Then he saw you.

You were walking slowly now, soaked to the bone, your shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world had settled there.

Bucky approached you quietly, matching your pace. When he reached you, he didn’t say a word. He simply opened the yellow umbrella above your head, shielding you from the rain.

You blinked, startled. The absence of cold raindrops pulled you from your thoughts, and you looked up. Bucky stood beside you, his face calm but unreadable, the umbrella angled to keep you dry.

For a moment, you just stared at him. His blue eyes searched yours, patient, steady—waiting.

“Bucky…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes said enough: I’m here.

The rain fell relentlessly, soaking through your clothes, clinging to your skin, but you welcomed it. You wanted the coldness to freeze your thoughts, the heaviness of the downpour to wash away the tears streaming down your cheeks. Maybe, just maybe, the rain could hide how much you were crying. But no amount of cold could numb the ache inside you.

Why did I go after him? you thought bitterly, scolding yourself. Deep down, you knew—you felt—that you shouldn’t have followed him. Your instincts had warned you, whispered that you wouldn’t like what you saw, that you’d be disappointed.

It’s not that you still loved him or had any lingering feelings for him. It was the memories—the life you had before all of this—that you missed. Memories have a cruel way of hurting you, a constant reminder of what’s lost, especially when you know you can’t turn back time or rewrite the past.

The breakup wasn’t filled with anger or betrayal. It had been mutual—an agreement you both made, though it shattered your heart. Toby had been kind, too kind. When the debt collectors started chasing you, hounding your brother’s unpaid loans, Toby had offered to pay it all. But you couldn’t let him. It wasn’t his burden to carry.

The debt collectors—the gangsters—ruined everything. They made your life unbearable, calling Toby’s parents, threatening him and anyone close to you. That’s when you decided it was enough. You ended the relationship to protect him, to free him. Then you ran. You moved across the country, hiding, surviving. You cut ties with friends because even they weren’t safe.

And now, seeing him… seeing him happy with someone else…

You pressed a hand to your chest, as if trying to hold the pieces of your heart together. If my brother had never taken that loan… I wouldn’t have to run. I wouldn’t have to hide. I wouldn’t have to live in constant fear.

The years of silent suffering weighed on you, and the truth surfaced: you’d been depressed all this time. You pushed it down, locked it away, told yourself you were fine because you had no choice but to keep going. But right now, in the middle of the rain, all of those feelings clawed their way to the surface.

Then you heard his voice.

“What can I do to help you?” Bucky’s voice was soft yet steady, cutting through the storm like a lifeline.

You froze. The words hit you harder than you expected. You blinked up at him, rainwater still running down your face like invisible tears.

Those words. That was what you wanted to hear. That was what you had needed for so long. Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, your arms wrapping tightly around Bucky’s torso.

“Nothing,” you whispered into his chest, your voice shaking. “Just stay.”

The dam broke. Your tears finally came—hot, unrelenting sobs wracking your body. You cried for everything you’d lost, for the years you spent pretending you were okay, for the regrets and burdens you had carried alone.

Bucky stood stiffly at first, his arms slightly raised as if unsure what to do. He was caught off guard. You’d fooled him. He thought you were okay after he’d taken care of the debt collectors—the men who had chased you, terrorized you. He thought his help had freed you. But it hadn’t.

She’s been hiding it, Bucky realized, his jaw tightening. Depressed people were like that—they hid their pain so well that even someone like him couldn’t see it.

Slowly, his arms came down around you, one hand resting lightly on your back, the other shielding your head from the rain. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He just held you as you cried, letting you break down in the safety of his presence.

Bucky brought you back to his place—a small, unassuming apartment that was surprisingly warm. He let you take a hot shower, the steam and heat finally driving the cold from your bones. When you emerged, you were wrapped in one of Bucky’s sweatshirts—soft, oversized, and smelling faintly like leather and soap.

You sat on his couch, knees drawn up, still sniffling quietly. Bucky handed you a small bar of chocolate.

“Mint chocolate?” you asked, the hint of a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“Everyone likes chocolate,” Bucky replied, sitting across from you. He watched you carefully, his gaze softer now.

A long pause settled between you, broken only by the sound of rain tapping on the window. Then Bucky spoke, his tone even, but with an edge of seriousness.

“Do you want me to handle your brother?”

You looked up, confused. “Handle him?”

Bucky’s expression darkened slightly. “He’s the reason you’re living like this. In my line of work, people take responsibility for what they’ve caused. He’s the one responsible. He should pay for it.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. “Thank you, but…” You hesitated, staring at your hands. “I’ve been looking for him for the past three years. I can’t find him.”

Bucky leaned back, arms crossing over his chest. His voice was calm but firm. “Don’t worry. I’ll find him.”

Your lips parted slightly, taken aback by the certainty in his words. “Jeez, Bucky… how could I ever repay you for all of this?”

Bucky shrugged, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “The coffee, the sandwiches, and that umbrella are enough.”

You huffed a small, tired laugh, shaking your head. For the first time in years, you felt a little lighter.

Bucky sat back, watching you. He didn’t need to say it, but you understood: you weren’t alone.

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Alastor's Shadow (18+) - Chapter Fourteen

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months earlier than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. After all, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plan brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down but also challenge your grab for power… 

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

(Let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List!)

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Author note: Dear Hoteliers,

There is a very important message after the end of the chapter. I will repost it because I know not everyone reads the messages hidden within this post!

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Fourteen - Picking a Fight

Content Warning: MINORS DNI!!!!! Mentions of abuse, Smut (let me know if I missed any!)

Alastor was sitting in the Doomsday District when he felt his magic surge. The demon had found a half-destroyed bench to sit upon, the metal twisted upon itself from one of his previous meltdowns. With his head in his hands, Alastor sat and contemplated the past few days - days? Or had it been weeks, months, since you kissed him in Louisiana? His sense of time had no meaning anymore. 

“Hello, old pal,” a voice interrupted his thoughts. 

Vox stood before the Radio Demon, a slick smile on his face as he surveyed the mess with which he had found him in. That was satisfaction enough for the media demon. 

Alastor ran his hands through his hair - not to fix it, but to relieve the anger itching beneath his skin. Jumping right from helplessness to anger - he was so easily riled up these days, finding it harder and harder to contain his wrath. He had thought ripping up the Doomsday District would somehow help relieve that, like a slow release of propane from a gas tank about to be set on fire but it hadn’t. He should know better, the last time you had a hold on his emotions he tried the same thing, but to no avail.

“I am not in the mood for one of our little quips today. Go on home -“

And then he felt it. The magic beneath his skin surged, his aura pulsed, only, it wasn’t his magic which emanated from his skin. 

It was blue. It was your magic. 

Alarm sparked panic in his chest. This wasn’t a coincidence. 

“Yeah, I thought you’d say something like that,” Vox continued, completely unaware of the magic surging through Alastor’s veins. 

It smelled of Jasmine.

Fuck.

The media demon flips his phone around to show a picture of you, unconscious and tied to a chair. Vox smirked at the realization growing on Alastor’s face. 

He didn’t know it at the time, but Velvette had constructed two false images, including one of you. 

“Checkmate,” Vox gloated. “This is how this is going to go-“ 

Before Vox had a chance to complete his rehearsed speech, Alastor had exploded in a wave of rage - a ball of living fire - except these flames were blue. 

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For Alastor, everything changed the second you broke that seal. In that moment, he felt how much power you had. It radiated deep within his bones - even his soul felt it. 

You carried a power so potent even Zestial would cower at your feet and - as much as Alastor hated to admit it - even he found himself unnerved around the original Overlord. 

Roo. Here you were right in front of him the whole time. Raw power, hidden behind perfect teeth and red lips. 

All he had to do was reach out and take it. 

And then you leaned over him, had the audacity to leave yourself open. Alastor felt his body move before his mind did, his fingers itching for the handle of Velvette’s blade. 

For you, you had proven you would do whatever it takes for power - Hell, you killed Eve for it. And now you had to live with the consequences. Alastor? He hadn’t crossed that line yet - he had no memories of guilt which screamed “No stop! Don’t do this!” 

He had the memories of you, however. 

Of annoyance.

Of desire. 

Of lust. 

Of fear. 

Of worry. 

Of happiness. 

Emotions Alastor had not felt in such a long time… 

So, why was it so easy to palm that blade and stab it straight into your belly? 

Because Alastor was hungry. Like the cannibalistic murderer he is, Alastor has been chasing power long before he died - even so far as selling his soul for a drop more. And when you broke that seal and gave him but a taste of what ran through your veins, it pushed him past hungry, past starvation, the demon was dying and you were the only source of food for miles. 

It blinded him - the power consumed his mind completely, directing him towards one prerogative - kill.

You expected this. Why? Because you did the same to Eve. Because you saw it in your father’s eyes every time he beat you. 

The allure of power drowns its victim like a ship at sea in a storm. 

You’ve seen that barely contained anger in Al before. The warning signs have always been there. How he tried to hold himself back when he’s around you, his demonic form slipping in and out when he sees something that he wants. 

It wasn’t Alastor who sank that blade into your belly - it was the hunger for power, the Radio Demon within. 

After all, who hasn’t been tempted by power and chaos? 

“Absolutely beautiful,” Alastor had said. 

Absolutely beautiful…

Absolutely beautiful? 

Was he talking about you or the power…?

You broke the kiss. “Ha!” You laughed, the steel hilt deep in your belly. You didn’t even move, didn’t even flinch when Alastor stabbed you. “Oh, Mr. Alastor,” you sang, running your fingers through his bangs.

The demon sat back in his chair, completely confused. You’d die of shock seeing such an emotion on his face if you weren’t in the current situation the two of you had unfortunately found yourselves in. 

How did Alastor phrase your deal? “A mutual agreement. We stay out of each other’s way, yet seek out the other when we can benefit equally.” 

It was a verbal contract - not a written one. So, technically, the exact details weren’t drawn out. The magic was privy to the contractees’ interpretations, and magic works in funny ways.

Remember the dream the night you had your midnight meeting? Remember how Alastor attacked you and you defended yourself with your flames? Remember how it burned his clothes but didn’t hurt him.

That’s where it all began.

Anytime you had summoned your magic or Alastor had summoned his, it not only didn’t hurt you, but it empowered you. 

You have stood in his static, have been enshrouded in his magic, and yet you came out unscathed. So why should a blade in his hand, hurt you? How was that any different? 

You took the greatest gamble of your life, leaning over Alastor while he sat in that chair, allowing yourself to be vulnerable, knowing that there was a possibility that he could actually kill you. But you’re deal - it wasn’t just a quid-pro-quo, you help me out, I help you out. No, it was more than that…

… Alastor couldn’t harm you. 

Which meant he couldn’t kill you. 

And so you took the gamble. 

You smirked, knowing your red lips did nothing but taunt the demon, “Quid-pro-quo,” You laughed. Grasping the blade, you slid it easily from your belly. You showed him the steel, absent of your blood. At most, the blade merely ripped your leather.

You laugh, “You shook on it.” 

A huge fucking gamble, and it had paid off. 

You take the blade and stab it directly into his right thigh. The demon didn’t even feel it. Batting your eyelashes, you turn your head like you sometimes see him do when asking a question, “Remember?” 

Confusion turns to anger. And for the first time, you are met with a full-fledged Alastor in demonic form. The demon rips the blade from his leg and growls, his ears flattened against his head in irritation. 

Oh, you were about to get the fight you have been dying for. 

A tentacle wraps itself around your middle and flings you backward across the dirt. Landing on your back, you quickly jump to your feet, preparing for a possible second attack. 

Alastor slowly rises from his chair, the knife slipping into his Void, and summons his microphone. He slams the cane against the ground, green sparks exploding from where it makes contact with the dirt before black tentacles emerge from his back.

The demon smiles, his lips threaded with green stitching. His sclera turn black, his antlers elongate, and prongs multiply atop his head. A green glow surrounds the Radio Demon as his body contorts in a series of cracks. Then Alastor begins to grow, the power with which he has gathered now physically represented by his size.  

“Ha, ha, ha,” the demon chuckles, his laugh echoing as if through a broken radio. “Let’s begin.”

And then his tentacles lunge, the black tendrils encased in Alastor’s green static. You spin, taking flight. You fly right past the demon, weaving through his flurry of tentacles as you head for Pentagram City. 

Alastor is hot on your tail the entire time, and just as you reach the edge, a tentacle wraps itself around your leg and flings you into a nearby abandoned building. Brick and metal come crashing down upon you as the building collapses, pinning you beneath it. 

But it doesn’t slow you down. Summoning your blue flame, you set the rubble alight, and, like a newborn phoenix, you rise from the ashes. Only to be attacked by an army of… shadow demons? 

Tiny doll-like creatures sewn together from black fabric lunge for your feet. Pulling your sword from the Void, you strike, but the blade does not cut them. Instead, they merely bounce off, like a ball hitting a baseball bat. 

What the fuck are these things!? 

One jumps for your leg, giggling as it attempts to sink its teeth into your flesh. Although you know it can't hurt you, you still instinctively jump out of its reach, using your wings to gain height. Luckily, the dolls can’t fly, and you watch as they jump beneath you, their arms outstretched as they lick their lips. 

Cannibal dolls? 

A growl warns you of Alastor’s next attack. You look up fast enough to see a literal car crash into you, the horn breaking as it slams into you. You land, the crumbled car crushing you as you roll down the street. Your wings take most of the impact, shielding your skin from the asphalt. Coming to a stop, you push yourself to your feet, the magic of the Book of Knowledge still surging through your veins. Standing, you face a demonic Alastor, his tentacles, as if legs, running down the street straight for you. 

He’s made himself a target, blind with rage, drunk on the pursuit of power. It would be all too easy to summon the power you stole from Eve and turn it against the Radio Demon. You had never used it before, but there was no time like the present to learn. 

Yet, as you stood, watching Alastor barrel straight for you, you hesitated. 

No. Not because you couldn’t technically hurt him, but because you didn’t want to even try. Something within your chest twisted, stopping you. 

You’ve been keening for a fight with him, but… but you couldn’t do it. 

Instead, you stood your ground, focusing on the magic thrumming through your veins, and forced the power from the Book of Knowledge back behind its lock. The words disappeared from your skin as Alastor raised his staff. 

A clang rang out as metal hit metal, your sword against his microphone. The demon was relentless, his strikes never letting up as he backed you down the street. All you could do was block, your heart not having it in you to strike back. Screams rang out as Sinners finally understood what was going on and fled in fear. 

A crazed look in his eye, the demon continued to hack, his strikes sloppy, his weight thrown into every thrust. Technique-wise, he was no match for a skilled warrior such as yourself. You could have easily had him on his ass if you wanted to - but you didn’t. 

A tentacle wrapped around your ankle, and as Alastor swiped at you with his staff, he pulled. You landed face first, a smack against concrete, rolling just in time to dodge the blow which was aimed directly at your face. As you rolled, you climbed to your feet and flung yourself out of reach of his next physical attack in one big beat of your wings. 

The demon threw his microphone forward, just as he had done every time his tentacles came soaring for you. You readied yourself, prepared for the attack, but his tentacles remained still. The demon looked confused, so he did it again, but again, nothing happened. 

He looked at his feet. 

Oh, he wasn’t trying to attack you with his tentacles but with his shadow. The demon was commanding Rolf to attack you. 

The shadow swirled at his feet, and frowned. Rolf actually frowned and then shook his head in refusal. 

Ooooohh, and Alastor was not happy about that. 

“Aaaaah!” The Radio Demon screamed as he slammed his staff down. 

The ground cracked and broke in half, creating a chasm beneath your feet. You jumped just in time, but not fast enough to miss the Hellfire that was released from the earth. The green flames consumed you as you flew skyward, but, like all of Alastor’s other attacks, it did nothing to you. Soaring, you stopped as you reached the rooftops and got a better understanding of where you were. 

You were on the edge of the Magne District and the Bordertown - in other words, you were blocks away from Alastor’s radio tower. As you caught sight of the iron structure, you felt that thing twist in your chest again. So many memories…

Again, the demon went after you, his tentacles propelling him to the rooftop of the building you soared over. His eye twitched, his smile constrained. And as he sent the next round of attacks your way, you felt your will to fight begin to fade. You didn’t dodge as quickly. You didn’t fly with as much vigor. 

He wasn’t going to stop. Alastor wasn’t going to stop…

You’re not sure why you did it; perhaps some part of you was still holding on, but you led him right to the radio tower. 

Landing on the balcony, you slipped your sword into the Void and waited as Alastor made his way up. The demon came to a stop at the other end of the landing, the lights of Pentagram City your backdrop. You put your wings away, your demon form slipping from you until you were just standing in your ripped leather gear. 

There was a gleam in Alastor’s eye as he surveyed you. He thought he had you. God, he looked absolutely mad. You dodged as he swung, staying easily out of his reach as if it were a training exercise. Jesus, you could do this but not dance? 

You looked into his eyes as he attacked you, seeing nothing but steel, a raging fire that had consumed him completely.

And that’s when you realized… Despite the contract you had made ensuring your safety, Alastor was still trying to kill you. 

And your heart shattered. Your steps faltered, giving Alastor the opportunity to knock you to the ground. You didn’t even try to fight him as he climbed atop you, straddling your waist. The demon pulled Velvette’s blade from the Void, forgoing his microphone completely. 

And you let him. 

The Radio Demon held the edge to your throat, his entire body seething in anger and frustration at the object of all of his desires just out of reach. So close, yet so far. 

“You want this more than you want me…” You whispered. 

His mask slipped ever so slightly, his movements freezing as you spoke. 

You gritted your teeth, “Fine. Alastor. You want it so badly, enough to kill me for it, then take it. Fucking, take it.”

You were so stupid. How could you think Alastor would be any different? Everyone in your life you’ve ever cared about ends up disappointing you…

“Alastor Hartfelt, I, Mikaela Morningstar, release you from our contract.”

SNAP!

The connection between you was severed. 

And almost immediately, you felt warmth on your neck, the edge of the blade digging into your flesh just enough to draw golden blood. Alastor’s eyes were instantly drawn to it. The demon gasped. Something behind his gaze shifted at the realization of what you had just done. 

“... And that’s when I decided she was not worthy of your death,” you repeated the words Alastor spoke to you after he saved you from Vox and Velvette, a moment in time when your death had nearly broken him. “No one was. If anyone was going to draw your last breath from these lips, it was going to be me.”

The demon met your gaze, his crazed smile faltering, the fire in his eyes sputtering. 

“Make do on that promise, Radio Demon.” Your voice cracked as the tears streamed down the corners of your eyes. “You’d be doing me a fucking favor.”

A favor… because you’d rather be dead than live with the fact that Alastor would kill you for something so trivial as power. 

He made you care about him. The way he rescued you from Velvette and Vox, how he dotted over you as you healed. He was killing himself with worry when you collapsed the second time. He made jambalaya from his mother’s recipe and spent hours sitting with you on this balcony, watching the City lights. He was worried when you didn’t eat, running straight to you when he heard. He kissed you as it rained, whispering promises in your ear. The demon danced with you in Mardi Gras, bought you a fucking donut, for crying out loud, and told you things about his mother that he never told anyone else. 

Alastor made you fucking care about him, and now he was ripping out your heart and stabbing it with an Angelic blade - literally and metaphorically.

So yes, he’d be doing you a fucking favor because Alastor was killing you either way - slitting your throat was just the much less painful option. 

You closed your eyes and waited for death… 

You had taken so many lives, and yet you had never thought about your own. You never imagined how you might die because, up until recently, you didn’t know you could. 

God, you didn’t know death could be this fucking painful. 

Yet, you welcomed it. There was no afterlife for you to look forward to, which was a blessing. You didn’t have to live with this weight anymore, this burden of existence, of the trauma and torture you have been put through. Finally, you could just cease to be… 

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The moment the golden blood trickled from your neck, Alastor’s mind flashed to the night you killed Val.

The demon had stalked you from the shadows, having heard the explosion all the way from the Doomsday District. He watched from the darkness as you burned Valentino from the inside out, absolutely mesmerized. 

And then Velvette ran her blade across your chest, and golden liquid spewed from the wound onto the concrete. Alastor had never moved so fast in his life. In a blur, he summoned a tentacle and threw a car at Velvette and Vox, stopping them only momentarily but long enough. Then he was at your feet.

SNAP! The golden liquid disappeared, and Rolf shadowed you to the Nothing.

Alastor’s heart rammed so hard against his chest he could hear nothing else, think nothing else as he collected you in his arms. The Radio Demon had never really known true fear before, even as he died he wasn’t afraid. Such a foreign feeling… He didn’t know how to process it. It left his mind blank, his lungs devoid of air, his body aimless as he forced himself to move. 

And then you were on his bed, your golden blood pouring into his red satin sheets. Rolf acted on his own, immediately taking off for Cannibal Town without Alastor even having to command him. The demon collapsed to his knees at the edge of the bed, forcing his claws to untie the dark cloak around your neck, but his damn fingers wouldn’t work! He was shaking so much…

“Oh, my stars!” Rosie melted from the floor, curlers in her hair and wrapped in a pink bathrobe. “Alastor, what is…” She caught sight of you on the bed and the Overlord in full panic next to you. 

Alastor turned to her, desperation swimming in his eyes as he managed to utter two words, “Help me.”

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“Alastor,” Rosie set a steaming cup of tea before him - chai - but Alastor didn’t move to drink it. He couldn’t even pick up the cup. It reminded him too much of the coffee you made him, how you flavored it with chai leaves. It reminded him too much of you. Of the beautiful woman held together by nothing but thread in the next room.

Rosie lay a hand on his arm, moving slowly so as not to startle the demon. He had calmed down immensely but was still shaken up. “Tell me what happened.”

“She went after Valentino,” He swallowed dryly. 

“Sweetheart, that’s not what I’m asking. I can see the destruction of the Tower from your window. I’m asking what happened to you. I’ve never seen you like that before.” The demon prodded carefully. 

Rosie had asked about you before - attempting to pry information from Alastor. It’s not that she was spying on you. She didn’t need to do that. You told her everything. She wanted to know what Alastor thought of you. A matchmaker from the very beginning - from the moment you stepped foot into her Emporium and ran right into Alastor. 

Alastor looked down at the cup, the leaves of tea swimming around the steaming liquid. “I don’t know. All I know is… It hurt… I hurt…” 

Rosie cooed, “And why do you think that is?”

Alastor was speechless. Nothing coming to mind. He honestly didn’t understand what was happening to him. Why he was feeling the way that he was feeling. He’s never felt so utterly helpless and honestly couldn’t understand why. 

“Darling, let me ask you, cannibal to cannibal, what is the most important organ in the body?” Rosie smiled, her teeth wickedly sharp. 

Of course, Alastor picked the brain - so iconic and representative of his character. 

Rosie giggled. “Oh no, I think my late husband is evidence enough of that. No, dear, it’s the heart. Something so vital that keeps us alive, and yet one tiny little nick and you bleed out and die. And dying hurts, let me tell you.” She shrugged, sipping her tea. 

Rosie let Alastor stew on this for a moment before clearly spelling it out for the Overlord. “You are hurting because the Vees went after your heart.”

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CLANG! 

Your eyes fluttered open to find Alastor looking back at you, tears in eyes of his own. His chin trembled as he cupped your cheeks. Alastor had dropped the blade, the steel clattering between the cracks in the balcony flooring before falling to the street below. 

The demon’s forehead came to rest on your own as his demonic form receded, his green aura fading. “... a drop more might break me.” His voice shook, his words absent of his radio static, his Louisiana accent slipping through. “Rarely am I wrong about something.” He chuckled through a sob. “I just didn’t think it would be by my hand.”

“Alastor…?” You searched his eyes for an explanation. 

“My darling.” A breath. “Ma cherie.” Another. “Mon couer.” Another. “My heart.” 

Alastor’s eyes were glassy. “One cannot live without their heart.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

Was he saying what you think he was saying? 

“You choose me?” You asked, hope sparking in your chest. 

The demon smiles softly. “I choose you, mon couer. I choose you…” 

You smiled as you grabbed Alastor by his shirt and pulled him in. Your mouths crashed together.

You can taste the relief on his lips, the solace evident with each swipe of his tongue. Finally, you could allow yourself to simply enjoy the taste of him. Finally, you could simply not think and only feel - no longer weighed down by the troubles plaguing your mind every time he grew close to you.

He knew your name.

He knew your secret.

He knew your power.

He knew everything.

And he had chosen you.

Nothing held the two of you back now, not emotionally or physically.

Alastor broke the kiss, already panting, his chest heaving as it matched yours, “How are your injuries?” His eyes roamed you, searching for active bleeding.

You smirked, “I’m in perfect health thanks to you,” you pulled the collar of your leather gear aside to reveal the injury Velvette gave you, the skin now pink and scarred over.

Alastor ran a finger across the mark, making you shiver beneath him. 

You had much to figure out today, but it could wait. 

The demon smiled, “Good,” he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I believe I made some promises to you that I intend to keep.” 

Alastor dipped lower, and you gasped as his tongue connected with your skin. Alastor traced the outline of the cut on your neck. His forked tongue lapped the golden liquid, not letting a single drop escape. When his lips were wet and sweet with your blood, he leaned back far enough only for you to see his eyes, his pupils blown, “You’re mine,” he breathed. 

Your body shuddered in what might have been a sob, a cry in joy as his lips found yours. 

Finally. Fucking, finally. 

You expected the kiss to be gentle - soft - a kiss that could take its time. After all, you had plenty of that now. But Alastor had warned you - he was not gentle. You moaned into his mouth, the iron tang of your blood on your lips as he crashed into you. The kiss was powerful, threatening to drown you in him completely.

The demon scooped you up in one fluid motion before you were shadowed into his bedroom and placed on red silk sheets.     

The demon had his jacket off, never breaking your connection, before crawling up on you. The demon pushed you back, laying you out on the platter of red, his own personal feast. He pressed himself into you, one leg between your thighs, and you instinctively arched as his warmth soaked into your bones, as he hardened against you. 

Alastor broke the kiss to run his tongue up your cheek, licking the golden liquid that had bled from your now-healed skin. The demon moaned, his dick throbbing in his pants in response. You took the opportunity to find the buttons of his red suit jacket, popping open the three buttons before diving into the ones on his collared shirt. 

There was something so intimate about undressing him. You could - if you had wanted to - magicked the clothes away, but where was the fun in that? There were layers to Alastor’s outfit, layers you wanted to peel back one by one; it was a privilege to do so. In a way, you felt like you had earned that privilege, and you were going to take advantage of every moment of it. 

Al pulled back, surveying your face. He ran a hand through your silver locks as they splayed out across his sheets, pushing it aside from your neck where bruises once decorated your skin. His eyes lit up, almost as if they were screaming, mine, all mine, before his lips found your neck. 

Oh, if you thought his kisses were intense before, it was nothing compared to now. Alastor held nothing back, his canines nipping at your skin till he drew blood. The pain was a beautiful burn that made your head dizzy. His tongue licked away the gold, soothing the erotic pain pooling in your core. You gasped as his hands found your hips and tugged.

He wanted your clothes off. 

SNAP!

Your leathers disappeared, leaving behind nothing but your bra and underwear. The armor didn’t have zippers or ties, it wasn’t meant to be slipped on and off, but you wanted Alastor to undress you. You wanted to feel his claws as they scraped across your skin and slid your underwear down your legs…

Alastors hand found the waistband of your underwear. The demon chuckled against your neck, after stealing a glance. “Such a naughty little thing.”

You may have changed into your favorite pair of undergarments, a dangerous matching set of silk. All in red, just for him. 

Alastor bit your neck, hard, not a full on bite, but a nibble that made you gasp. You arched up into him, his knee between your thighs. With one hand thrusted into your hair, the other went to your bra, to cup the swell of your breast. 

The demon had perfectly sized hands, your breasts a matching handful. You cried out as he squeezed. Goosebumps rise on your skin as the demon’s mouth travels south, his lips trailing to the swell of your breasts. His claws scraped across your skin, finding the strap of the garment and slowly lowered it over your shoulder. You arched, prompting him to slide both hands behind your back as he smiled up at you, his eyes promising to do terribly wonderful things to you. 

Then your bra was off, and his mouth was on your breast, and he sucked, his tongue flicking your nipple. You plunged your fingers into his hair, wrapping them around his locks. Your finger lightly brushed his ears, and the demon growled, his mouth on your breast, his hips bucking instinctively. 

Alastor pulled back despite your bark of protest - that turned into a gasp as the demon backed off the bed, wrapped his arms around your hips, and tugged. He yanked you to the edge before violently ripping off your underwear. 

Your cheeks heated as Alastor kneels before you, his face mere inches from your heat as he hooks your legs over his shoulders.

He was kneeling. The all and powerful Alastor Hartfelt was on his knees for you. No one would ever believe you…

And then he sinks two fingers inside you, all the way up to his first knuckle. You cry out, your breath stuck in your throat as your nails dig into his sheets. He slides his fingers out slowly, then shoves in hard again, practically pushing you back up the bed. 

“Oh, my - Al!” 

Alastor cuts you off with his mouth, his tongue licking your clit and setting you on fire. Instinctively, your toes curl, and your body pulls in on itself, but Alastor’s claw digs into the meat of your hip, keeping you spread open as he thrusts his fingers in again, his mouth feasting on your juices. 

Digging your nails in tighter, you swear you rip the fabric, trying to hold on. 

The demon chuckles as your next gasp turns into a moan. God, it was like Alastor was punishing you, dominating you, a relentless force pent on overpowering you in every sense of the word. 

You swore you'd never bow before another again, never let another command you, but for Alastor, you'd gladly fall to your knees if he asked.

The pressure was starting to build. Fuck, the last time this happened, you leveled a building.

“Alastor,” you choked out.   

But the demon didn’t stop, didn’t even come up for air. Alastor pulls his fingers almost all the way out before thrusting them fully in. 

“Al-”

The demon glares at you, a gleam in his eye. He wanted to push you over the edge and was not going to stop, no matter what. 

Shit. Shit. Shit!

He picks up the pace, his fingers constantly roaming in and out, his mouth working in tandem quickly working you up towards your climax.

Your head is gone now, your breathes in gasps with each pump of his fingers, each swipe of his tongue. The demon bites down on your clit between his upper teeth and lower lip. A wave of pain has you teetering.

“Al!” You scream as, on the last thrust, Alastor curls his fingers, hitting that wonderful bundle of nerves that has you flying over the edge. You arch up as spasms overcome your body, as Alastor continues to pump and continues to ride you through your high.

Be damned if you burned this place to the ground. It was worth it.

Your inner walls clench around his fingers, your entire body tensing up. Heat floods through you as you pant, breathless and dizzy. 

Alastor doesn’t stop until your back finds the sheets again, until your twitching has slowed, and your breathing has normalized. 

This entire thing feels like a dream as Alastor stands, untucks his shirt, and takes off his belt. 

“No,” you squeak out, your body and mind numb with pleasure.

Alastor freezes.

“I want to,” you practically beg, reaching out a hand. 

The demon chuckles, his face in his hands. 

Wait. 

You sit up, your mind sobering as you whip your gaze across the room. “It’s not on fire?” 

Alastor’s smile kicks up in a sideways grin, “It’s not.”

You shoot him a questioning look. You don’t know how this is happening, but you know Alastor had something to do with it. A rune? Some sort of mark in his Voodoo? 

The demon answers your question with a chuckle as he climbs atop you. Alastor’s arms frame your face, his smile lighting up yours as he towers over you. His locks were like a halo of red around his face, his antlers a few prongs larger than you remember. 

You’re so captivated by a half shirtless Alastor towering over you that you completely forget what you were supposed to do.

He pauses, his breath hot on your lips, “well?”

Well? Oh! Yes. 

Hesitantly, your fingers find his belt as you continue what he had started. Your heart is ramming against your chest, your hands suddenly very sweaty. Get it together. He’s made you orgasm twice now. You’re sitting beneath him, in his bed, wearing nothing. Why were you so nervous? 

You paused at the button of his pants. 

“Al, I… I’ve never…” You met his gaze and hoped your eyes communicated the rest of what you were trying to say. 

His cheeks turned pink, “We move at your pace, mon couer.”

Your heart skipped a beat. He was giving you time for your mind to catch up with the rest of you. 

First, thing’s first…

You force your fingers to move again and help him slide his shirt off. And then you don’t want to stop touching him. Alastor was so soft, the short fur along his torso and arms like the down coat of a fawn. It was longer around his chest, producing a fluff you were already making plans for. To spend your night sleeping on his chest…

You traced his scars, each old and grey, marking his beautiful ashen skin. Then you found the mark over his chest, the run of Transformare just over his heart. You traced the outline of it. 

“My favorite one,” he smiled. 

And that gave you the bravery to continue on. You shot up, your lips crashing into his as your fingers undid the button of his pants and began to tug down. Alastor laid you back out as he pulled off his pants and underwear in one swoop. 

You gasped as the demon pressed onto you, his cock perfectly lining up with your folds. The demon ground his hips against you, coating his shaft in your juices, hitting your throbbing clit. Your mouth went dry at the sheer size of him. You wanted him, wanted every glorious inch of him in you.  

And then you're drowning again as he kisses you, his thrusts harder and faster as he grinds atop you, Alastor the ocean wave which was pulling you deeper and deeper. And you gladly drowned. He rocks back on his hips, stealing the heat of his cock before he lines himself up, his tip pressing against your opening, and pauses. 

He was waiting for you. 

In response, you wrapped your legs around his thin waist. They sat perfectly at the crest of his hips, almost as if they were made for you, for this. The demon growled as you kissed him, and you laughed.

And then he slid in. And in. And in. Until his hips were flush with yours. Your nails dug into the muscle of his back, making the demon growl. 

Jesus, he had your eyes watering; it was like your body forgot how to breathe. He stilled, letting you adjust.     

“Are you alright?” Alastor was out of breath, his voice raspy and absent of static, as his forehead found yours, clearly bombarded with the same wave of emotions you had been. 

You nod as you pull him down on top of you. You wanted to feel Alastor, to feel his warmth, to feel his chest heaving against yours, to feel the muscles in his abbs as he thrusts into you. You have been starved for touch for so long that you have become desperate - desperate and greedy. 

The demon moved slowly, pulling out slightly before pressing back in. His hips stuttered, “Satan,” he choked. “You’re tight.”

Again, he pulled back, then thrust in. The demon fisted one hand in your hair, the other coming to rest behind your thigh, giving himself leverage as he moved. 

And as Alastor moved, his forehead on yours as you kissed, your breath building as you huffed through your noses, it became easier. It became pleasurable. It became faster, deeper. 

It made you hungry for more.

“Fuck me,” you breathe between moans. “Fuck me, Alastor.”

A fire sparks in his eyes as his hands sink to your ass. The demon has your legs wrapped around him, and off the bed, your back pressed against the wood head rest as he fills you. Every inch, every hard ridge. Alastor’s teeth find your bottom lip, and he bites down as he slams into you with enough force, that the bed shakes. 

Your moan is on the edge of a scream as blood fills your mouth. Alastor’s tongue laps at your lips, at your tongue, devouring the tangy liquid flooding your mouth and dribbling down your chin. The cannibal is determined not to waste a single drop as he feasts. You wrap your arms around his neck and hang on for dear life, your nails digging into his skin, just exciting him even more. 

There is nothing gentle about the Radio Demon - no wonder he wanted to wait, no wonder he held himself back all those nights ago. He surely would have split you in two had you begged him to try.  

But it would have been so worth it. 

Your veins sang beneath your skin with the build of your climax, your heart beating in time with Alastor’s. 

The demon released a hand to find your clit, circling as he thrusts. Immediately, you’re toeing the edge, your moans choked screams, as Alastor picks up the pace, sweat licking your bodies. 

Alastor’s claws dig into the meat of your hip as pulls you down on him with every thrust, as he buries himself over and over again, the tip of his cock brushing the entrance of your cervix. You’re there, you’re at the edge…

“I’m close!” You breathe, every edge of you burning with pleasure. You’re so wet, you’re dripping down his balls as he sinks into you. 

Not yet. No. You want to linger. You want to savor this. Every second of it. 

And then Alastor’s lips find your neck, and he bites. The pain sends you over the edge, and you scream as the orgasm tears through your body. Alastor continues to pound into you, hard and fast, drawing out your pleasure. The demon grows harder, more frenzied with his movements, and then he’s roaring as he slams into you to the hilt, spilling inside you. 

Alastor growls as his dick throbs against your clenching inner walls, milking him of every last drop. And then Alastor slows as he collapses into you, his head resting on your shoulder as he slowly thrusts in and out, his body spasming with pleasure.

And then there is silence, interrupted only by your panting breaths. 

When your souls finally return to your bodies, you take Alastor’s face in yours. The dreamy, drunk look on his face has your heart soaring. No one has ever seen Alastor like that. You’ve earned the privilege to see him like this.  

Alastor rocks in and out of you in slow, languid thrusts, like he’s savoring the feeling of you wrapped around him. 

“Mon couer,” he breathes before he kisses you, long and slow. 

You giggle, just as high as him, “mine.”

The demon freezes, giving you a look as if he didn’t hear you right. 

“I choose you, too, Alastor. You’re mine.” You beam before kissing him. His mouth is unmoving for a second before he kisses you back. The demon digs his hips into you, sinking his head in till it hits your cervix - you swear to God!

The demon lays you back down on the bed.

“I’m yours,” he smiles against your lips, and then he swallows your gasp as he thrusts again. “I’m yours, mon couer, only yours.” 

Alastor’s mouth trails down your jaw, across the bruises forming on your throat. You moan when his tongue finds the bite, the mark he used to claim you, the soreness that now represents everything. The demon uses his tongue to outline the mark, the golden blood now clotting. 

With the taste of you on his lips, the demon was growing hard again, his dick throbbing inside of you as he stroked slowly. 

This time is different. This time Alastor is slow, his fingers bunching in your hair but not tearing, his lips kissing you deeply, his mouth drunk on your taste. You breathed Alastor in as your tongue lazily played with his, as your hips moved in time with his strokes. 

This wasn’t just him claiming you. This was Alastor promising you. This was him pledging to be yours and only yours, to be all the things he was scared of being, to devote his very being in honor of you. 

And you could feel it. You could feel his growing desire. It wasn’t just in the pounding of his heart or the way his breath quickened as it mixed with yours but somehow sank into your bones. 

If your magic could be summoned as it had whenever Alastor’s lips were on yours, the colors of your magic would be singing right now. Their masterpiece a demonstration of the vow he was making you. 

You let your hands wander over every hard ridge of him. Outlining his pecs, the defined abbs on his torso, the strength in his shoulders. To his cut jawline and soft hair. You played with his locks as Alastor continued to thrust in you, your quick breaths turning to moans. 

It was slow, it was passionate, it was intense. 

Alastor breaks the kiss to decorate your neck, marking his territory, the bruises proof that this was real. Your gaze falls to where the two of you are connected, his shaft pulling away with both of your juices, turning his dick white with cum.

Oh, God the way he filled you with his cum…

You clench around him at the memory of the feeling, making the demon’s hips stutter, eliciting a growl that vibrates from his chest through yours. 

You can’t help but smile as you kiss him. The power you had over him, over his body…

Alastor responds by thrusting harder. 

CRACK! 

The bed breaks, and the next thing you know, the two of you are rolling off the side. Alastor takes the brunt of the fall, pulling you into him as his back smacks against the wooden floor. 

“Al, are you -?” 

The demon interrupts your question with a laugh. It was so genuine and absent of his usual radio static that it catches you off guard before you’re laughing right along with him. 

And then the two of you realize something: you were on top. 

You blink at each other a moment, registering what this means, but Alastor doesn’t make an attempt to move you. Instead, he grabs your hips and guides you up and down his cock. It’s awkward at first - you’ve literally never done this before - but you eventually find a rhythm that has the two of you moaning all over again.

Regardless of the position, Alastor was still in control, which was a relief - your lack of experience was frankly embarrassing. 

You dig your fingers into his fluff, using it as leverage as you bounce up and down. You can feel the wetness pooling out of you and dribbling down his cock. 

From this position you could fully appreciate Alastor, disheveled and overwhelmed by you. His chest is heaving, his hips bucking up into you, deepening the muscles on his torso. 

God, it was a beautiful sight. 

The demon reaches up and wraps his fist in your hair before using it to pull your lips down to his. His claws dig into your other hip as his thrusts quicken, as he pounds into you.

And then he’s spilling into you all over again, his warm seed filling you and then sliding down his cock. The orgasm surprises you, overtaking your body without warning. 

God, the feeling of being filled was enough to drive you over the edge. 

You collapsed on Alastor, your face in the fluff of his chest as he thrust, your orgasm milking every ounce of his seed. 

And when his hips finally slowed, Alastor collapsed fully, his hands coming to rest in your hair and on your back. The two of you lay there for a long time, not minding the mess you had just made, your minds and bodies too numb to fully comprehend anything but the aftershock of pleasure. 

You breathed him in, letting his scent of forest and musk prolong your ecstasy. The room danced in the flavor of warm vanilla, evidence of what you had just done wafting out the slightly ajar back door. The curtains were down, so no one could see in. 

When Alastor somehow found the ability to move again, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Mon couer?” 

“Hmm?” You hummed, dreamily snaking your head up to meet his half-lidded gaze through your curtain of hair. You were sleepy and oh-so-content. You could fall asleep right there on the floor and sleep for days if he let you. 

“How about a bath?” As if on cue, the sound of a faucet turning creaked from the bathroom. Running water could be heard echoing through the tile walls. 

You giggled, nodding. 

Slowly, Alastor pulled out of you. You whimpered at the sudden empty feeling, the loss of warmth that was purely Alastor filling your core. It was a feeling you were instantly missing.

The demon carried you to the tub, now steaming and filled with bubbles. He gently sat you in before climbing in behind you, letting you lay against him as he washed you. 

The fluff on his chest was like a pillow as you lay there, drowning in the scent of his shampoo. It was like being on sensory overload, except the only sense was Alastor. 

And you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Alastor took his time massaging your limbs, easing the tension from your muscles. He inspected every healed cut and new scar he had never seen before until he was satisfied that you were fine and really and truly in one piece. He even took the time to wash your hair, his claws scraping against your scalp as he scrubbed. You hummed in delight, bringing a genuine smile to Alastor’s face. 

The wash was more cathartic for Alastor than it was for you. For him, he needed this. After you almost died, he needed to see you be strong again. He needed to see you at your highest before he could heal from seeing you at your lowest. And, as if to solidify it in his brain that this wasn’t a dream, and you were really and truly alive, he needed to inspect you himself - and he also did get satisfaction at seeing the new marks which he had left on your body. The slowly darkening bruises and bites he had left behind… 

The narcissist… 

When he finished with you, he washed himself. You were practically asleep when he finished - although he did do his best not to disturb you as much as he could. The demon slowly slid out from behind you to grab you a towel. It took some coaxing, but he finally got you to stand on your own as he wrapped you in the soft cotton. 

When you returned to bed, you found it perfectly made, with fresh sheets and fluffed pillows. The foot on his bed frame had snapped during your endeavors, but Alastor had it repaired while you bathed. You’d sleep soundly in a level bed tonight. 

Soft jazz clicked on as Alastor tucked you in before sliding in himself. You curled into the demon, who had crawled into bed with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, immediately seeking his warmth. 

Alastor rarely slept, but today was an exception…

With your head on his chest, your feet tangled in his, and his arms wrapped around you, you felt complete. 

And the two of you dozed off into slumber to the words of Nat King Cole’s “Unforgettable.” 

Okay, Hoteliers, why did I do this? Why not have Alastor never attack Mikaela in the first place? Why didn’t he just drop the knife and kiss her, and then I write a chapter filled with some seriously overdo smut? Because there was still one thing about Alastor that had not been challenged yet - in the fanfic and in canon. Yes, Alastor had fallen for the reader, but there was still this giant thing hanging over their heads that they did not address, which needed to be hit upon in order for the two of them to finally accept their feelings for each other. What would Alastor do if something/someone he loved more than power stood in the way of him achieving it? You, as Mikaela, already made that decision when you killed Eve - you’d do anything. Yet, deep down, you knew you couldn’t do it to Alastor - you, as the reader, had decided that without me even having to write it. You were literally screaming in the comments about it as you read chapter thirteen.

Yet Alastor had never been asked that question. So we needed to see what he would do. Given the opportunity, he needed to be forced to choose, and he needed to see that that choice would have consequences. That's why I needed Alastor to stab you, to go after you, to draw blood. Why go to such lengths? Because Alastor is a stubborn, stubborn man, and changing him would not be an easy thing to do, especially when it is something so central to his character. I mean, he's a cannibalistic murderer; how much more literal does Viv need to get about his desire to consume power? Being forced to choose was not only about you but about him as well. In the writing business, we call it ~character development~.

So no, I couldn't simply have Alastor drop the knife and whisk you away into a fairytale. This moment, this part of Alastor, posed an obstacle for me: a giant wall preventing me from continuing on. I needed Alastor to grow, to unlock that part of himself that let you in, choose you over everything else, and for him to accept that.  

Don't worry, we still have more to go - they still have to learn why they are both at the Hotel, what their involvements are with Lilith, and what Mikaela’s big endgame actually is, but that stuff is trivial compared to their cannibalistic desire for power - especially considering Mikaela is Roo, the embodiment of it. I mean, that’s how this fanfic all started, right? “Power is of two kinds. One is obtained by the fear of punishment and the other by acts of love. Power based on love is a thousand times more effective and permanent than the one derived from fear…”  And I think it’s important to remember that because it will be a theme through to the end of this fic. 

<3 Stay smutty Hoteliers - smut is coming next chapter. You’ve earned it ;)

-> Chapter Fifteen

Tagged Hoteliers (Let me know if you want to be added!):

@sirens-and-moonflowers @wonderlandangelsposts @saccharine-nectarine @mommymilkers0526 @goyablogsstuff

@eris-norwega @missgirlsstuff @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog @sillywormtrixareforkids @its-a-dam-blue-brick

@cloverresin20 @blue-bird251 @speedycoffeedelight @littlebluefishtail @saw1987

@mopeyghost @beelz3bub @fraugwinska @minamilinaqueen @demoarah

@diffidentphantom @divineknightmare @animecrazy76 @sleepykittycx @graunta

@reath-solia @satansdaughter123 @mysticatto @freshonyourpages

[lucrezianoin]

List of Year 24 complete manga work in English or Italian

I made this list mainly to myself, but you can easily use it too. I am on a mission to read every Year 24 group manga available, so here I collected:

licensed manga (in English and Italian)

online scans

Every licensed manga has a the name of the publisher too, and you might find the Italian translation easier than the Japanese.

I added an "online" to the ones you can definitely find scanned online. Every title is linked to where to read the story nearby, keep in mind these websites come and go and might have ads.

If you see a licensed title in italics it means that the manga cannot be found anywhere online and scanned (and translated). Or that some short stories in the collection (if it is a collection) cannot be found anywhere online and scanned.

Let's start!

The authors are (in order): Moto Hagio, Keiko Takemiya, Riyoko Ikeda, Ryoko Yamagishi, Yasuko Aoike, Yumiko Ooshima, Minori Kimura, Kihara Toshie.

MOTO HAGIO

Licensed in English

They Were 11! (JP Oversized and Viz)

The Complete Poe Clan (Fantagraphics, coming out November 2024)

Heart of Thomas (Fantagraphics)

A Drunken dream and other stories (Fantagraphics)

Neo Parasyte m (Kodansha Comics; first chapter is by Moto Hagio)

Lil' Leo (Denpa books)

Otherworld Barbara volume 1 and 2 (Fantagraphics)

A,A' (Viz), impossible to find it seems

Licensed in Italian

Il cuore di Thomas - The heart of Thomas (J-POP)

A Cruel God Reigns, 9 volumes (J-POP)

Star Red (J-POP)

Hanshin, la dea dimezzata, collection of stories (J-POP) (anilist)

Il Clan dei Poe volume 1 and 2 (J-POP)

Barbara, vol1, 2 and 3 (J-POP)

Marginal vol1, 2 and 3 (J-POP)

Online (English only) (chronological order)

-> Full series

The Heart of Thomas (manganelo)

They were 11 (mangadex)

They were 11: Higashi no Chihei, Nishi no Towa (mangadex)

U wa Uchuusen no U (collection of stories) (mangadex)

Silver Triangle (mangadex)

A, A' (mangadex)

Marginal (mangadex)

A cruel god reigns (mangadex)

-> One shots

Bianca (mangadex)

Girl on the porch with puppy (internet archive)

Poor mama (mangadex)

Autumn Journey (internet archive)

11-gatsu no Gymnasium (mangadex)

Unicorn no Yume (mangadex)

Onshitsu (mangadex)

Marie, ten years later (internet archive)

Cabagge Hata no Isansouzokunin (mangadex)

Houmonsha, prequel of Heart of Thomas (mangadex)

Shiro - The Castle (mangadex)

A Drunken Dream (internet archive)

Ragini (mangadex)

Kinyou no Yoru no Shuukai (mangadex)

Kimi Wa Utsukushii Hitomi (mangadex)

Hanshin: Half-God (mangadex)

Egg stand (mangadex)

Angel Mimic (internet archive)

The child who comes home (internet archive)

Slow Down (mangadex)

The false king (mangadex)

Iguana girl (mangadex)

Afternoon sunshine (mangadex)

Yuujin K (mangadex)

Yama e Iku - Going to the mountains (mangadex)

The Willow Tree (mangadex)

Moments of lonliness (mangadex)

With Love to "From Eroica with love" (mangadex)

Neo Parasyte m's short story "Yura no Mon wo" (mangaplaza, first story, which is the free one)

KEIKO TAKEMIYA

Licensed in English

To Terra, 3 volumes (Vertical Inc)

Andromeda stories, 3 volumes (Vertical Inc)

Licensed in Italian

Il poema del vento e degli alberi - Kaze to Ki no Uta, 10 volumes (J-POP)

Verso la Terra - To terra, 3 volumes (J-POP)

Il suo nome era Gilbert, autobiographical novel (J-POP)

Online (English only) (chronological order)

-> Full series

Kaze to Ki no Uta (mangadex)

To Terra (mangadex)

Andromeda Stories (mangadex)

Rintarou Panic! (mangadex)

-> One shots

Sunroom Nite (mangadex)

Hohoemu Shounen (mangadex)

On a snowy day (mangadex)

Star (mangadex)

20 no Hiru to Yoru (mangadex)

Mister no kokori (mangadex)

Natsu e no Tobira (mangadex)

Manatsu no Yoru no Yume (mangadex)

Koufuku no Hato (mangadex)

Toki wo Yuku Uma (mangadex)

RIYOKO IKEDA

Licensed in English

Claudine (Seven Seas)

The Rose of Versailles, 5 volumes (Udon Entertainment)

Licensed in Italian

Le rose di Versailles, 5 volumes (Edizioni BD)

La finestra di Orfeo - Orpheus no Mado, 9 volumes (J-POP)

Anello dei Nibelunghi - Nibelungen no Yubiwa, 4 volumes (Goen)

Claudine (Goen)

Ayako, 2 volumes (Goen)

Caro Fratello - Dearest Brother, 2 volumes (Goen)

Elisabetta - Elizabeth (Yamato)

Eroica la Gloria di Napoleone - Héroïque The Glory of Napoleon, 12 volumes (Magic Press)

Online (English only)

Bara Yashiki no Shoujo (mangadex)

Early Spring Trembling (mangadex)

Porando Hishi Ten no Hate Made (mangadex)

Dearest Brother (mangadex)

Nibelungen no Yubiwa (only 3 volumes, 1 missing, mangadex)

Claudine (mangadex)

Versailles no Bara (up till volume 12, mangadex)

Summer in Cantenbury (mangadex)

RYOKO YAMAGISHI

Online (English only)

Shiroi Heya no Furari (mangadex)

Yasha Gozen (mangadex)

Harpy, collection of stories (mangadex)

Hatshepsut (mangadex)

Hiruko (mangadex)

Medusa (mangadex)

Hemi no Hire (mangadex)

YASUKO AOIKE

Licensed in English

From Eroica with Love (Cmx, unfinished)

Online (English only)

From Eroica with Love (still being translated, currently at chapter 21 (mangadex)

Vampire (mangadex)

The free shooter (mangadex)

Tasogare ni Kaere (mangadex)

Z (mangadex)

YUMIKO OOSHIMA

Online (English only) (chronological order)

No longer male (mangadex)

To Joker (mangadex)

Banana Bread no Pudding (mangadex)

Grass Crown Princess (mangadex)

He His Him (mangadex)

Across a golden prarie (mangadex)

Summertime (mangadex)

Long long cafe (mangadex)

MINORI KIMURA

Online (English only) (chronological order)

Ame (short stories) (mangadex)

Warped mirror (mandagex)

KIHARA TOSHIE

Online (English only) (chronological order)

I'm fine with dying (mangadex)

Diamond Gojiran, 3 one shots (mangadex)

With love to "From Eroica with love" (mangadex)

NANAE SASAYA

none

MINEKO YAMADA

none

[karasukarei]

Wind Breaker Exhibition Kyoto - Full review with audio guides

I went for WinBre Ex two weeks ago! It was STUNNING and AMAZING 🤩 Here’s a rundown of what went down (with plenty of simping from yours truly)! I also bought the audio guide, so I’ll also be summarising the audio guide at the points where it’ll be played. The guide features the first year trio.

Disclaimer: Photos are allowed for most sections of the exhibition. As many of the exhibits are manga panels, I was more selective in the photos I've shown here, to focus more on interesting ways the panels were shown, or on exhIbition-exclusive displays. (moots, feel free to DM me if you want more photos!) Where there are no photos in my post, photography was not allowed. I did not take photos of every single exhibit on display, only the panels or art works that I found especially interesting (or those with Umemiya cos I'm his simp).

Entrance

You’ll be given a QR code to scan to get the audio guide when entering, if you bought it! There are 9 tracks in total. 

The bonuses you’ll get when entering are a random sticker (I got the omurice one with Sakura and Umemiya!!!) and a physical ticket. You can also purchase the ticket with a pass case and photo card, but I didn’t find it very cost-effective so I bought just the ticket ^^;

At the entrance there’s a huge poster of the key visual of the exhibition art, as well as the noticeboard at the entrance to Makochi!

Section 1: Character intros

The first section has cutouts of the first years! Manga panels of the first chapter and a few other general key visuals, such as art by Nii-sensei for the anime airing, are here too.

They also have Sakura’s real uniform on display!! The detail on the embroidery is sooo intricate.

Audio guide 1: The scene starts with Nirei dropping his notebook. Suo (if i remember correctly)picks it up and returns it to him, and Sakura tells Nirei to take better care of it. Nirei tells Sakura about how he wants to use the notebook to help Sakura reach the top, since Nirei himself can’t fight, and he hopes to help using the information on people inside it. They go through Sakura’s profile (stuff like his height, weight, likes and dislikes etc.). Suo tells Sakura that he’s really loved, and Sakura gets all blushy and tsun (SO CUTE).

Section 2: Meeting Boufuurin

This section is in the same area as the first, and starts with a photo spot!

They have two uniform jackets for you to try on for photos (Sakura’s and Sugi’s) and the size difference is real lmao. The one in front is Sakura’s, and it’s considerably shorter than Sugi’s. I also took some dumb photos here www (available on request by DM, moots only)

The rest of Boufuurin is introduced here too!! But um. As you can see I kind of. Only had eyes for one person. Oop.

Audio guide 2: The trio are discussing how their class is full of interesting people, and they give a quick profile of Tsugeura, Kiryuu, and Sugi. When Nirei says that standing next to Sakura and Suo gets him all excited, Suo mentions that Sakura is all red, and Sakura gets really flustered. Sakura demands Nirei to hand him the notebook so he can search for Suo’s weak point, but the only information he found is whatever was in Suo’s character profile (specifically his love for Chinese-style fashion and tea). They also discuss the embroidery on their uniform, and how long Sugi’s uniform is because of his height.

Section 3: Shishitoren arc

This section summarises the Shishitoren arc, and includes panels from the manga, as well as keyframes from the anime!

Note: For the Tokyo exhibition, the Shishitoren tunnel was there, but from what I remember the Kyoto one didn’t have the tunnel (I might have missed it in my excitement to see Umemiya x_x)

Audio guide 3: The trio see a cat, and they discuss the Shishitoren members. According to Nirei’s notebook, Choji claims to understand cats, and there’s also some discussion about how Hiiragi and Sako had a past together, and they also talked about Togame and Sakura’s fight. Sakura comments that the fight he had this time felt different from those he had in the past, and Suo tells Sakura that he has climbed the staircase to adulthood while petting his head. Sakura gets all pissy (like a cat) and tells Suo to stop petting him like a cat. (LMAO)

Section 4: Pothos

There’s a recreation of the bar counter at Pothos here! (I also have a photo with myself here, request by DMs from moots only) You can sit here for photos, and they even recreated the omurice and coffee!!!

Audio guide 4: This takes place at Pothos. The trio have come to get some food, but Kotoha is out for now. Nirei quizzes the other two about what Kotoha likes, and the answer is that she likes taking care of plants. Kotoha returns, and the audio guide ends.

Section 5: Umemiya and the Shitenou

This section introduces you to the four kings! The scroll with the Boufuurin structure is super cool www.

It’s also super nice that they have the panel with Umemiya and the four kings in life-size!!! It’s almost like Umemiya is speaking straight to you ;-:

Audio guide 5: The trio discuss facts about Umemiya and Hiiragi. They warn you not to follow Hiiragi’s way of spamming Gascon 10, and discuss a bit about the role of grade captain. In a throwback to Sakura wanting to become the top (Teppen), they called the role of being the grad captain the Teppen of their class too. (SO CUTEEEE ;-; SAKURA IS SO LOVED)

Section 6: KEEL

This is the keel arc, and there’s this super cool wall with the Keel logo. The whole area was also decorated to look like the warehouse where the fight took place! You can see how the walls were made to look like the sheet metal in the warehouse.

They also have the panel of Kaji-paisen coming to the rescue in a life-sized board!!!

But I think the coolest panel is the first years in mid-fight!

Audio guide 6: Nirei is almost run over by a car!!! Nirei and Suo warn Sakura about watching out for Keel, and they discuss the traits of Keel. There’s also a bit of discussion about Kaji-paisen; the headphones seem to be a gift from someone important to him ^_^

Extra: Special video

No photos or recordings are allowed for this section, but it’s a video compilation voiced by Sakura about the growth he experienced up till the Keel arc ;-; it starts with how he was alone, and gains many dependable friends in Boufuurin, and how he’s no longer alone ;-; it is very beautifully thought out and created, and I really loved how poignant and moving the piano soundtrack was ;-;

Section 7: Roppo-Ichiza

This entire section looks like a night club, with all the blue lighting and use of metal grilles. There’s profiles of Tsubaki-chan, Kanji (forgot to take a pic of his oops) and Suzuri here (this one’s for you @/kafkaoftherubble!!!)

Audio guide 7: The trio start by talking about Gravel and the nature of the group. They also talk about Roppo-Ichiza, and mention that Umemiya and Nakamura (Kanji, not Yuuichiro www) know each other personally. When Nirei and Suo comment that Tsubaki-chan could be meeting someone she likes in the Roppo Ichiza area, Sakura starts stammering and blushing. (YOU CAN HEAR THE BLUSH SO MUCH)

Section 8: Umemiya’s past 

THIS IS MY FAVE SECTION BTW I TOOK SO MANY PICS HERE.

A small note that the notebook with “8” on it marks the points where there is an audio guide track! The audio guide specifically describes this section with the two scrolls:

Audio guide 8: Nirei starts the ball rolling on the past of the current Boufuurin. For the first part, he reads the text in the two scrolls in a super exaggerated and old-fashioned (think Kabuki-style without the elongated syllables!) manner. Suo observes that Nirei really likes the town, and Sakura says that he will protect the town.

ALSO THIS IS HANDS DOWN ONE OF MY FAVOURITE ILLUSTRATION BOARDS THROUGHOUT THE WHOLE EXHIBITION

ALSO THIS. PLEASE LOOK AT THIS.

Section 9: FRANK

At the time of the exhibition, this arc was still ongoing! Only the first part where Boufuurin is prepping for the fight is featured.

I also LOVE this cover art, I’m so glad they have a big version of it here!!

They also reproduced the briefing by Mizuki about the plan to protect the town! The projector will also show a QR code that you can scan which takes you to a web page that replicates the LINE group chat created by Mizuki for Boufuurin. (Available by request by DMs, moots only)

(edit 22 October 2024) I tried scanning the QR code here^, it brings you to the first chapter of Wind Breaker on Magazine Pocket lmao.

Some of the manga panels and art featuring the start of the fights is also featured here!

Audio guide 9: Note that this is actually an epilogue to the exhibition that does not touch on this arc. The trio say the Boufuurin motto. The cat from audio guide 3 gets ahold of Nirei’s notebook, and Sakura chases after it!

Extra: Anime-related content

For this section, photos are not allowed. The OP and ED videos are showed, and there’s a wall of 16 shikishi (signature boards) from the voice actors, production staff, and even natori and Young Keel! The shikishi which really stood out to me was Suzuki Ryouta’s (Hiiragi’s seiyuu), he wrote “Gascon Ten?” (HELP I’M CRYING) (t/n: This is a very dumb pun. In Japanese, the Wind Breaker Exhibition is called “WinBreTen” for short, as 展＝てん＝pronounced as “ten” = exhibition.)

Merch haul

I bought an aggressive amount of merch from the exhibition, and surprisingly my favourite piece isn’t anything Umemiya related, but it’s Nirei’s notebook. It’s super cute that it’s marked as Nirei’s own notebook, and even includes all the character profiles until Tsubaki-chan!!! 

Also the finger puppets were available starting from the Kyoto exhibition, I’m SO GLAD I managed to get one.

Other significant stuff I bought of note: Yakiniku Teishoku t-shirt (I am wearing it as I type this lmao), WinBre10 candies (IT’S THAT PUN AGAIN HELPPPP). There’s a couple other things I got but these are the more interesting ones www

And that’s it! Thank you for sticking through with my very long post with an aggressive amount of simping for Umemiya. I hope you’ve enjoyed it and managed to get a glimpse of what it was like! I rate it Gascon10/Winbre10, will go again (I’ve been infected by Suzuki Ryouta).