#chaos walking cursed image

[candy69gurl]

Sooo what is your thought in bully sukuna x shy reader? I think it's kinda hot tho. Like imagine sukuna picking on you every day bc he is obsessed with reader 🥴😩

ENSNARED

PAIRING bully Sukuna x shy reader

WARNING slight non/con, mean Sukuna (obv), m!masturbation, jealousy, slight mentions of Jin Itadori, mentions of violence, public harassment, little comfort?, slight dacryphilic Sukuna, fingering, clit rubbing, use of nicknames (brat, slut), slight exhibitionistic Sukuna, raw sex, m!cum on f!face

"G-give that back to me," you attempt to snatch your notebook from Sukuna's grasp, but he intentionally keeps it just out of reach, smirking wickedly.

"Oh, are you truly desperate for this piece of shit?" He asks teasingly, enjoying your frustration. "Perhaps if you beg prettily, I might consider letting you have it back."

Your desperation grows with each attempt, as you frantically lunge and twist to snatch the notebook from Sukuna's skilled hands. He shifts it from one hand to the other, juggling it playfully, prolonging your torment. His eyes gleam with mischief as he watches you struggle, enjoying the power struggle between the two of you. "Beg," he urges, leaning closer to whisper the word in your ear, making the situation even more agonizing.

In your frantic attempts, you lose your balance and accidentally land on top of him. Your body settles over his lap, unknowingly straddling what seems to be a rather significant bulge beneath his clothes. Sukuna's smirk falters for a moment, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks as you finally tear the notebook from his grip and scurry away, completely oblivious to the chaos you've caused. "You... you have no idea, do you?" he stammers, trying to regain his composure, a mix of embarrassment and amusement coloring his voice.

You glare at Sukuna, your eyes narrowing in anger as you hold the now-precious notebook tightly. Your cheeks red from embarassment and anger. Without another word, you turn on your heels and storm away, leaving him behind, his laughter trailing behind you.

Little did you know, the incident had left a lasting impression on him, and the game of cat and mouse between you and the school bully would continue, fueling his obsession with you even further.

As the night falls, Sukuna tosses and turns, unable to shake off the vivid memory of your accidental encounter earlier that day. His erection strains against his pants, a painful reminder of the power you unwittingly hold over him. "Damn you, little brat," he curses under his breath, frustration mixing with desire. He tries to distract himself with other thoughts, but his mind keeps returning to the image of you, sitting on his lap, completely unaware of the effect you had on him.

Unable to resist any longer, Sukuna's hand slips beneath the covers, wrapping around his throbbing member. He jerks himself roughly, visualizing your innocent face and the way your body had felt against him earlier. Each stroke brings him closer to release, and he moans softly, fantasizing about the day when he'll claim you as his own, asserting his dominance over you in every sense. The thought pushes him over the edge, and he sighs in relief as he spends himself, imagining your surprised expression when he finally makes you submit to his desires.

As he releases, a satisfied smirk graces his lips. "Soon, little brat," he murmurs, "I will.. fucking make you mine." He cleans himself up and drifts off to sleep, dreams filled with fantasies of dominating and possessing you, eager for the day when he could make you his in every way possible.

The next day, Sukuna finds himself walking down the hallway, his eyes desperately trying to locate you. He is determined to start the day by bullying you. He eventually finds you leaning against your locker, talking to none other than Jin Itadori, another nerd he picks on.

Jealousy surges within him, the sight of you with someone else igniting his possessive nature. He approaches the scene, casually inserting himself into the conversation, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Mind if I join you two? I heard there's some juicy gossip going around," he says, his eyes never leaving you.

Sukuna's arms wraps around your shoulders, pulling you close and shielding you from the boy's advances. "You want to date her? Just look at her, she's as ugly as fuck. You can do so much better than this pathetic excuse for a human." His words drip with contempt, and his tone is dismissive.

Embarrassment floods you as Sukuna's cruel words echo through the hallway, drawing stares and snickers from the surrounding students. Jin, unable to handle the situation any longer, offers you an awkward smile before retreating and leaving you alone with Sukuna. Tears start to form in your eyes, and you struggle to maintain your composure in front of your tormentor. "You should be thanking-"

With a sudden burst of anger, you slap Sukuna across the cheek, the sound reverberating through the now-silent hallway. "I hate you!" you cry out, your voice cracking with emotion. For once, the tables have turned, and the roles are reversed – now it's Sukuna who feels humiliated in front of his peers.

Sukuna's eyes flash with anger, and before you know it, he seizes your hair, his fist clenching to strike you. The room erupts in chaos as classmates rush forward to pull you and Sukuna apart. As they separate you, his eyes burn with fury, promising retribution later. "This isn't over, little brat," he growls, his voice low and menacing. In the midst of the confusion, you can't help but wonder how far he'll go to assert his dominance and exact his revenge.

After school, you are the last student in the classroom. You quickly gather your belongings and stuff them into your bag. The sooner you leave school, the sooner you can get away from the stress of the day's activities.

Just as you're about to exit the classroom, your gaze shifts left, revealing Sukuna's smirking face. He's been waiting for you to finish what you're doing so he can pounce on you; now that you're both alone, no one can stop him.

His eyes gleam with satisfaction as he grabs your wrist, yanking you back and pinning you to the ground under his weight. "Nowhere to run, little brat," he chuckles, holding you down with an iron grip. "Time for your punishment." Fear and adrenaline course through you as you struggle against him, knowing that you can't escape his grasp.

Afraid and overwhelmed, tears stream down your face as Sukuna looms over you. To your surprise, his demeanor shifts, and he hastily gets off you, cradling your trembling form in his arms. "I didn't mean to scare you," he murmurs, his voice surprisingly gentle.

You continue to sob, the mixture of fear and humiliation overwhelming you. Sukuna holds you tightly, his grip softening as he tries to offer comfort. "Please don't cry," he whispers, his fingers gently tracing circles on your back. "I won't hurt you, little brat. You just need to learn your place, that's all." Despite his words, you can't help but feel uneasy, knowing that his intentions might not be entirely genuine.

His hands cup your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. Your teary, puppy-like fearful eyes, your bruised lips from when he pinned you down, everything appears irresistible to him. He licks his lips as arousal surges through him, seeing you so vulnerable.

His fingers brush against your lips as he leans down to kiss your cheeks, tasting your tears. He moves further down letting his lips brush against yours. The kiss is slow and deliberate, his tongue sliding into your mouth with authority. Shock courses through you, your tears drying up as his dominance is once again asserted. But amidst the shock, a strange feeling of desire begins to stir within you, leaving you both confused and anxious.

As you recover from the shock, his kiss intensifies, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you closer. The unexpected intimacy leaves you both breathless and uncertain, your heart pounding in your chest. His lips are insistent, his tongue exploring your mouth with a possessive fervor. "You're mine, little brat," he whispers against your lips, his words laced with possession and dominance. You can't help but wonder what this new development means for your turbulent relationship.

As his lips continue their relentless assault, Sukuna's hands reach inside your skirt, his fingers tracing the outline of your thighs before finding their way to your most intimate place. Your breath hitches, the surprise and embarrassment from earlier replaced by an unwelcome arousal. "Does my little brat like that?" he murmurs, his voice tinged with satisfaction as he feels your reaction. His fingers delve deeper, his touch both demanding and thrilling. The intensity of the moment leaves you gasping for breath, your body betraying your mind's resistance.

With a triumphant smirk, Sukuna slides his finger inside you, eliciting a sharp intake of breath. "So wet for me, little brat," he praises, his voice thick with satisfaction. "You should be ashamed, wanting me even after I embarrassed you in front of everyone." His words are a mix of pleasure and reprimand, further fueling your confusion and desire. You can't help but squirm under his touch, your body responding to his touch despite your mind's protests.

He thrusts his finger deeper, your walls clenching around him in response. "Such a naughty little brat.." he growls, his thumb caressing your clit. Your breath hitches, your body arching involuntarily under his expert touch. "But don't think this means I've forgiven you," he warns, his finger thrusting in and out in a slow, rhythmic pace. "You still have much to learn, and I'll teach you every lesson you need." You close your eyes, a mixture of shame and pleasure washing over you.

He lifts you up on one of the benches, bringing his erection towards your core. Your core gushing around his shaft, his groan of desire echoing through the still classroom. With a smirk, he frees his cock from his pants, the sight of it causing your breath to catch in your throat. He proceeds to rub the engorged member against your clit, his movements slow and deliberate. You try to resist, whispering a half-hearted "Wait..," but his eyes are filled with determination.

Despite your protests, he ignores your pleas and guides his member to your entrance. Forcing himself into you, he pushes past your resistance, his size causing a burning sensation. You whimper and whine, struggling against him, but his strength is overwhelming. "Quiet, little brat," he snarls, his cock stretching you wide. "Take it like the good little slut you are." You can't help but surrender to his force, your body adjusting to his intrusion as his thrusts become more forceful. "W-what if someone..?", your voice quivering, the thought of somebody seeing you like this is almost revolting to you..

What will everyone say? The shy innocent girl getting fucked by her bully and also that she is enjoying it? Yet, you cannot deny the pleasure he is giving you. You don't want him to stop.

"No one's coming", Sukuna interrups , "Even if someone sees us, let them know you just pretend to be shy... but you are in reality a masochist slut."

The combination of pain and pleasure washes over you, your body betraying your will once again. Your protests turn into moans, your hips moving in tandem with his. The intensity of the situation leaves you breathless, your mind conflicted between desire and fear. Despite yourself, you begin to enjoy the rough ride, your body responding to his dominance.

As his thrusts become more forceful, he cups your face, his eyes locked on yours. "You feel so good, little brat," he growls, his voice thick with lust. "I've fantasized about this so many times, imagining you wrapped around my cock." You blush, both mortified and flattered by his admission. "You don't know how much I like you," he continues, his words contradicting his usual cold demeanor. "Maybe too much."

His confession catches you off guard, your mind reeling from the unexpected sentiment. Despite your confusion, his words ignite a spark of affection within you. "L-like me..? then why?," you whisper, your eyes tearing once more..

Sukuna pauses, his eyes searching your face as if trying to decipher your thoughts. "You're mine, and I want you to know it," he says, a hint of vulnerability in his tone. "I'll always push you, force you to submit because I can't bear the idea of losing you." His thrusts resume, his movements fierce yet tender. "I enjoy seeing you struggle, hearing you beg, because it proves you belong to me."

He leans in, his lips grazing your ear. "It's my way of showing you how much I care, little brat," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "I'll never let anyone take you from me, even if it means breaking you first." His words are both reassuring and terrifying, leaving you unsure of how to feel about this new revelation.

Despite your confusion, the intensity of the moment leaves you breathless, your body responding to his every move. His declaration has opened a door to a whole new realm of emotions, leaving you both scared and entranced by his possessiveness. The love-hate dynamic between you grows more complex with each passionate thrust, your future now intertwined with the man who both torments and cherishes you.

With a smirk, Sukuna reaches inside your shirt, his fingers finding your breasts through your bra. He kneads your nipples roughly, your breath hitching at the sudden sensation. "Such a pretty sight, my little brat writhing under me," he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck to find your lips. His kiss is both possessive and demanding, his tongue dueling with yours in a heated dance.

Your body responds to his touch, your nipples hardening in his grasp. The mix of pain and pleasure leaves you gasping, your mind clouded by the sensations. His kiss deepens, his tongue exploring your mouth, his hands roaming freely over your body. The dual assault leaves you breathless, your arousal reaching new heights.

As his kisses become more intense, so do his thrusts. You can't help but become more responsive, your body surrendering to his domination. The intimacy and brutality blend together, leaving you both exhilarated and terrified by the intensity of the experience. Your resistance melts away, your body craving the release that only he can provide.

He watches your face intently, his thrusts becoming more frantic. "That's it, little brat," he growls, "let go for me." You can feel the heat building within you, your body ready to explode.

As you reach your climax, your inner muscles contract around his cock, milking him in a rhythmic pulse. Sukuna groans, his own release nearing. With a growl, he pulls out, his seed shooting across your face in a hot spray. You gasp, your eyes widening at the sudden intrusion. "There," he says, a triumphant glint in his eye. "Now you're marked, my little slut."

Your breath hitches, the cooling semen on your face a testament to his claim. The shock of the action leaves you speechless, your mind struggling to process the intensity of the situation.

As Sukuna zips up, his eyes rake over your body, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. "Clean yourself up," he commands, raising a hand in dismissal before turning on his heel and striding away. You're left on the ground, still panting from your orgasm, your mind reeling from his abrupt departure.

You watch him leave, your mind reeling from the whirlwind of emotions. As he disappears from sight, you can't help but feel abandoned. With shaking hands, you wipe the semen from your face, a small part of you feeling humiliated yet another part aroused by the act. Your body still buzzes from the encounter, your heart racing. You rise slowly, your legs unsteady beneath you, and make your way back to your quarters.

Does he really like me?

The questions linger, unanswered, but you know one thing for certain - you belong to him, body and soul.

[boohorns1136439]

Learning to belong ~ poly!MHA x fem!Reader (06)

And we are back for another chapter !

Warning: cursing (maybe)

tags: aged-up characters ; Pack! Izuku Midoriya X Bakugo Katsuki X Shoto Todoroki X Kirishima Eijirou ; Omega!Izuku Midoriya ; Omega!Bakugo Katsuki ; Omega!Shoto Todoroki ; Omega!Kirishima Eijirou ; technically Beta!Reader ; afab!Reader ; modern Au ; post-UA ; Reader has a quirk ; non hero!Reader ; eventually smut ; bisexual!Reader

05 <- 06 -> 07

Masterlist

Taglist

Todoroki’s heat had finally passed after three long days. He’d spent them either with Kirishima buried deep inside him or wrapped in his muscular arms, their bodies entwined in moments of quiet warmth. It had been all too easy to lose himself in the haze of desire, letting the weight of everything else fade away in a blur of passion and closeness. But now, as the intense flush of heat left his system, his mind was painfully clear.

Embarrassment hit him hard. What was I thinking? He asked himself repeatedly, and almost felt lightheaded as he recalled the desperation—the way he’d thrown himself at you like some lovesick teenager in his first heat. It was reckless and stupid. Worse yet, he’d let himself imagine all sorts of salacious fantasies involving you, Kirishima, and himself throughout his heat. It was utterly inappropriate. The clarity felt almost unbearable as shame surged through him, dense and stifling. If it were just about embarrassing himself, he could eventually deal with it. But the memories of that day went beyond the dizzy haze of horniness, beyond the scent of peaches and yours warm touch against his skin. He also remembered Kirishima’s raw rage and the deep red of your blood covering your face and the hospital floor. Shame gnawed at him from within, leaving in its wake buds of guilt, which blossomed as images of you walking around with a crooked nose and split lips flooded his mind.

Thankfully, it had been Kirishima who picked him up from the hospital that day. The red-haired hero had been too considerate to press him on what had happened; his only priority was taking care of him. Yet, as Todoroki had laid beside Kirishima on the third and final night of his heat, he knew that by morning, he’d have to face the rest of the pack. And neither Katsuki nor Izuku would spare him the questions he dreaded.

Morning came too soon. By the time Todoroki left his room, Kirishima was already gone and it was still early, he knew no one had left for work yet. He rushed to the bathroom to shower, hoping the hot water might somehow calm his nerves or at least give him a moment to gather his thoughts. For the first time in his life, he almost wished his heat had lasted longer—anything to delay the inevitable, awkward conversation but no amount of scalding water could cleanse the mess of emotions swirling inside him. After a dozen of minutes, he resigned himself, finished his shower and got ready for the day.

The moment he emerged from the steamy bathroom, Izuku was waiting, worry pooling in his green eyes and his rough, scarred hand instinctively lifted to cup Todoroki’s face. His touch was warm and steady, grounding him and quieting the chaos within him. Despite the awkwardness of this whole situation, seeing Izuku made his heart flutter, and he smiled softly in his mate’s arms.

“Shoto,” Izuku murmured, his voice filled with genuine concern. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I wanted to be there, but I was tied up at the agency and..." He hesitated for a moment before continuing in a fast ramble, "Just... if you need anything, I’m here for you. We’re all here for you. I already called your agency and told them you’ll need a few more days off. Kirishima told us a little about what happened, and I swear, we’ll track down that doctor. We’ll make sure—”

“He doesn’t need you babbling his damn ears, Deku.” Katsuki’s voice cut through Izuku’s rambling. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his gaze locked on Todoroki—not unkind, but piercing.. “He gets it. He’s not helpless, you know.”

Izuku shot Katsuki a small frown but remained unfazed by his blunt interruption. Beneath the sharp words, Todoroki could sense Katsuki’s genuine concern. The familiar edge in Katsuki’s tone was oddly comforting, and he knew that Katsuki’s refusal to coddle him was just his way of showing respect and consideration.

As they moved to the dining table, where Kirishima was already eating breakfast, Todoroki took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves and took his seat around the table. Izuku quickly joined him, sitting beside him and reaching over to place a comforting hand on his knee. Todoroki felt a rush of gratitude for the quiet support, and even Katsuki, despite his sharp gaze, gave him space to speak without pushing him.

.

.

.

“So... you were the one who threw yourself at her?” Izuku’s voice was hesitant, his doe eyes blinked and his brows furrowed in confusion as he tried to process Todoroki’s recounting of the events.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Katsuki scoffed in disbelief.

Todoroki’s face flushed deeply with embarrassment, his cheeks burning so much that he thought he might actually burst into flames. This was a lot more mortifying than he’d imagined. Izuku had started off so supportive, leaning in to comfort him, but as Todoroki went on and explained the situation, he watched Izuku’s expression shift from understanding to confusion, and finally to what felt like... judgment. Slowly, Izuku had began to scoot away from him, casting side glances full of disapproval and making it impossible for Todoroki to meet his eyes. Katsuki was more disappointment than anything else. Unbelievable, he muttered to himself. To him, this was beyond stupid—something a too-hormonal high schooler might do and definitely something Todoroki should’ve known better. But it was Kirishima’s silence that unnerved Todoroki the most. The red haired kept his gaze down, uncharacteristically quiet, before abruptly standing up and storming toward the door.

“I need to go apologize!” Kirishima’s voice was laced with urgency, tinged with panic, but Bakugo grabbed his arm and halted him.

“You can’t go back to that hospital, Eijirou,” Katsuki said firmly, tightening his grip. “What are you gonna do, knock on the door and ask for the doctor you beat up? You’ll only make things worse.”

“Kacchan’s right. She’s probably scared right now, and she’ll run the other way if she sees you again,” Izuku added, stepping in front of Kirishima and blocking his ways like a barricade, while exchanging a look of silent agreement with Bakugo.

“But I can’t just stay here! I hurt her—badly. She even tried to explain, but I wouldn’t listen,” Kirishima’s voice grew agitated. The vivid recollection of your tear-filled eyes and bloodied lips coiled within him, guilt tightening its grip on his chest. What kind of man hits an innocent woman? he thought, fists clenched as he struggled to free himself from his mates' hold.

“I’ll go,” Todoroki interjected suddenly. His words startled the others and they turned to him, puzzled. “It was my fault. I should apologize to her.” His voice was calm but resolute, slicing through the tension in the room and carrying a steadiness, calmness, that sought to soothe Kirishima’s agitation and remorse. “Izuku’s right; you can’t go there directly, Eijirou. I’ll go and apologize on behalf of both of us.”

"But I have to do it myself! I was the one who hit her. I should at least cover her medical bill!" Kirishima protested, spurred by a faint voice in the back of his mind reminding him how unmanly—and even less heroic—his actions had been.

“I’ll tell her you want to apologize in person too. If she’s okay with it, I’ll give her your number so she can reach out to you,” Todoroki assured him gently. It pained him to see Kirishima like this, especially knowing it was his fault. All he ever wanted was to see him smiling, radiant and untroubled, and judging by the looks on his other mates’ faces, it was clear they all shared the same feeling.

Kirishima’s expression wavered, torn between making a run to the hospital or listening to his mates, but Katsuki ended his internal debate with a firm arm slung around Kirishima’s shoulders, steering him toward the door.

“Come on, shitty head, we’re gonna be late. It’s Shoto’s mess, he’ll handle it,” Bakugo said, his voice losing its usual edge, and softened just enough to offer some reassurance to Kirishima.

Izuku lingered behind, casting Todoroki a final glance filled with quiet suspicion. Todoroki could almost see the gears of his mind turning, overthinking as always, but then Katsuki barked Izuku’s name from the doorway, urging him to hurry up. With a sigh, Izuku followed the red eyes pair and they all left for work, leaving Todoroki behind in their appartement.

Todoroki paced in circles around his apartment, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. He kept telling himself that he needed to apologize, but every time he neared the door, a wave of nerves yanked him back, making him turn and start another lap around his living room. He wasn’t used to feeling this way—unsteady, so... nervous as the weight inside him grew heavier, sinking like an anchor. He’d never been one to feel so unsettled—he was usually straightforward, never having trouble apologizing when it was needed. If he made a mistake, he fixed it; he owned up. But this felt different. Today, shame, guilt, and apprehension mingled within him in a discomfort he didn’t fully understand.

“Okay, it’s just... an apology. You’ve done this before,” he muttered under his breath, trying to summon his usual calm. He had told his mates so confidently that he would do it, but look at him now. “Just go in there, say you’re sorry. It’s not complicated.” Yet the words didn’t settle him. Instead, they only seemed to make him more anxious. Why was facing you so daunting suddenly? He couldn’t explain it—he didn’t understand it.

After what felt like ages, he forced himself to grab his keys and head out the door, before he could talk himself out of it again. But the nerves only grew worse when he settled into his car and sat behind the wheel. The flashes of three days ago replayed in his mind, flashes of him almost humping the backseat. They made him wince as he gripped the steering wheel tighter and started the car.

The hospital wasn’t so far away from his apartment, a short 30-minutes drive, but he had to will himself to stay focused on the road. When he paused at a red light, he found himself wondering if your scent would be as intoxicating and bewitching as he remembered it to be and the thought made him groan as he banged his head on the steering wheel, mumbling to himself, Focus, Shoto.

As he drove past a flower shop, a quiet voice in his mind suggested he bring you something. He considered it for a moment, pondering on how appropriate it would be to bring flowers to someone he didn’t know, especially someone who had been beat up because of him. Yeah, no, even he could tell it would be weird. But somehow, he found himself making a U-turn, parking his car in front of the flower shop, and stepping inside.

The floral scent enveloped him immediately—a soft, sweet fragrance that seemed to soothe the edges of his nerves. Before him laid a sea of vibrant and cool blooms stretched out in rows: roses blushed in shades of crimson and coral, delicate peonies, soft violets, cheerful tulips, and vivid anemones. The shop was beautiful, but he knew he had to leave fast when he realized he was searching for flowers that would complement the color of your eyes. He almost laughed at himself. Ridiculous, he mused, but there he was, his feet planted firmly on the ground, and a minute later, he was holding a bouquet of dahlias. With the flowers in hand, he made his way to the counter, quickly paid, and rushed back to his car, feeling the steady thrum of nervousness in his chest.

Finally, we got to see Izuku and Katsuki in this fic. It took us 6 chapters but we made it through!!

I hated writing this chapter, omg, it took me almost a whole week. You guys have no idea how many versions of this chapter exist 😭. The length wasn’t the issue—I tried to make it a bit longer than usual (not by much, though; I’m usually around 1.5k words, but today I hit 1.9k). BUT omg, nothing really happened here. I think it was just a boring chapter (at least to write) 💀.

I’ve always referred to the characters as Todoroki, Kirishima, Izuku, and Katsuki in my head. But it’s kind of weird how half of them go by their first name and the other half by their surname in the narration, right? It’s also a bit confusing when I use both in the same chapter, so I’ve decided to stick with Izuku, Katsuki, Kirishima, and Todoroki for the narrator. The reader will use their first names once she meets them properly.

As always, criticisms are welcome.

Big thank you to @cafekitsune who made the beautiful dividers

05 <- 06 -> 07

My apologies if I forgot anyone in the taglist

Taglist: @too-much-gacha ; @electronicexpertshark ; @poopopp ; @cjdjfhfhfufjfdj ; @kimi01985 ; @icycoldbeanieweanies ; @ghostlyworld ; @marsbars09 ; @queenondeezmatatas ; @imnotherw ; @bedheadloser ; @chrisbiniesluvrr ; @fsocs-blog ; @jadeddangel ; @qardasngan ; @omgeyeless-blog ; @goldenglow149 ; @andysteve1311 ; @pinkmelodies ; @hopefulb1ue ; @redkarmakai ; @zukusluvr ; @navezepol221 ; @candiiee ; @aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaq ; @mniya ; @randomhuman112 ; @mintvender ; @deadendgrim ; @captainswanarcher ; @figbaby ; @midnight-nightmare ; @bluepatrolbear ; @talilosha ; @bawlangya ; @optimisticprime3 ; @purplescorpi0 ; @astrolovedy ; @desiree-lee ; @okaysxx ; @the-faceless-bride ; @thelameone101 ; @gethexxed ; @lowkeyhottho ; @bvirrious ; @heespretty ;

[emjayewrites]

puppy love • aurelien tchouameni (1/8)

SYNOPSIS: Ocho has a dog crush...too bad the owner hates both Aurelien and Ocho.

WARNINGS: mentions of dogs humping each other/in love, football b.s., eventual smut, eventual boyfriend!aurelien, cursing, light enemies-to-lovers.

PAIRINGS: aurelien tchouameni x black!femreader (Y/N)

TAGLIST: @sucredreamer, @trenterprise, @tchouathon, @trentswrld, @f1-football-fiend, @vile-harlot, @certainsaturn, @lettersofgold, @hopefulromantic1, @foreverisntenough, @essaysbyciara, @elyseesarchive @deonn-jaelle @alika-4466 @saturnville

A/N: Another Aurelien series???? Anyways, please let me know if you wish to be added/removed from the taglist. Also, as always, please like, comment, and send asks! Dividers by @inklore.

Chapter 1: You Got A Girlfriend?

Aurélien leaned back against the park bench, feeling the cool breeze on his skin as he scrolled lazily through Instagram. It was his usual Sunday routine—a quiet morning at the dog park, letting Ocho burn off energy while he caught up on his feed. Ocho, his Belgian Malinois, was darting around the open space, his sleek, muscular form a blur of tan and black as he chased after his usual playmate—a slightly smaller Malinois. The two dogs had an almost ritualistic bond. Every weekend, like clockwork, they'd play chase, wrestle a bit, and then inevitably, one would spot a squirrel and the chaos would ensue.

Today was no different. Ocho and the other dog took off in a flash, their eyes trained on a squirrel that had dared to cross their path. Aurélien glanced up briefly, watching them weave between trees before disappearing behind a line of bushes. He wasn’t concerned. Ocho had a habit of running off to chase squirrels, but he always came back within a few minutes, panting and satisfied.

As Aurélien's thumb swiped up, he chuckled at a video of someone’s dog trying to fit into a too-small bed. He was deep into the endless scroll when a sudden voice jolted him back to reality.

"Excuse me! Whose dog is this? Is this your dog?"

He looked up, startled, and spotted a woman walking toward him, holding Ocho by the collar. The other dog was trotting behind her, looking equally guilty and winded from the run.

Aurélien stood up quickly, pocketing his phone. "Yeah, that’s my dog. What’s going on?" He noticed the woman was around his age, with rich brown skin that glowed in the sunlight, her features sharp and striking. Her bohemian braids were pulled into a messy bun, and she wore a cropped pullover and leggings that showed off her athletic build. Her eyes were wide with irritation as she marched toward him, and Ocho, sensing the shift in her mood, looked up at Aurélien with his big, innocent eyes.

The woman stopped in front of him, her grip still firm on Ocho’s collar. "I found your dog humping mine," she said flatly, her expression unreadable as she looked between him and Ocho.

Aurélien blinked, processing her words for a second before an involuntary chuckle escaped his lips. "Humping?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, clearly not amused. "Yes, humping. Your dog was violating Lady. It was like some weird dog soap opera scene back there."

He couldn't help but laugh again, the image too ridiculous not to. "Ocho? Really? That's what they were doing?" He glanced down at his dog, who was now sitting obediently, his tail wagging as if he had no idea what was happening.

The woman, however, wasn't finding any of this funny. She released Ocho’s collar and placed a hand on her hip. "It’s not a joke. Ocho was—what’s the word—taking Lady’s innocence!"

Aurélien smirked, shaking his head as he crouched down to ruffle Ocho’s fur. "You know, these two have been playing together for months now. I wouldn’t be surprised if this wasn’t the first time."

That comment earned him a deep scowl. "Excuse me?"

He stood back up, realizing a little too late that he'd said the wrong thing. "I just mean… they’re friends. Maybe, uh, things happen sometimes." His words came out clumsily, and the girl’s expression only darkened.

"So, you're saying this might be a regular thing? Your dog humping mine without permission?"

Aurélien winced. He hadn’t meant to make it sound like that. "No, no, I’m just saying they play together a lot, so maybe…" He trailed off, realizing he was only digging himself deeper.

"Unbelievable." The woman sighed, clearly exasperated. She bent down to snap the leash onto Lady’s collar while shooting Aurélien a look that made it clear she wasn’t amused. "Your dog is a menace," she muttered, tugging Lady toward her, but the dog whined softly, resisting her pull.

Aurélien watched as Lady whimpered and tried to edge closer to Ocho, who responded by leaning in and licking her face gently, as if to say goodbye. It was almost sweet, and Aurélien had to stifle another laugh. Clearly, Ocho had made an impression.

The woman, however, wasn’t having it. She tugged harder on Lady’s leash, dragging her away despite the dog’s reluctance. "Let’s go, Lady," she muttered under her breath, and with one last pitiful glance at Ocho, Lady finally obeyed.

Aurélien stood there for a moment, watching them leave the park, Lady’s tail dragging sadly behind her. Once they were out of sight, he turned to Ocho, shaking his head in mock disapproval.

"Alors, toi…" he began, speaking in French, the familiar tone of his voice making Ocho perk up. "Qu'est-ce que tu faisais, mon gars? (What were you doing, buddy?)"

Ocho wagged his tail, his ears pricked forward as if expecting praise.

"T'as une copine maintenant? (You’ve got a girlfriend now?)" Aurélien asked, raising an eyebrow as he crouched down to look Ocho in the eyes. The dog, blissfully unaware of the chaos he had just caused, merely licked Aurélien’s face in response.

Aurélien chuckled, shaking his head. "Tu sais, tu reçois plus d'action que moi ces jours-ci. (You know, you're getting more action than I am these days.)"

Ocho tilted his head, as if trying to understand, but all he knew was that his owner seemed to be in a good mood, which meant more treats or belly rubs soon.

"T'es vraiment un charmeur, hein? (You're really a charmer, huh?)" Aurélien stood up, kissing his teeth in mock disapproval. "Taking Lady’s innocence…" He repeated the phrase to himself, still amused by how serious the woman had been about it.

With a sigh, he hooked the leash onto Ocho’s collar, tugging gently to signal that it was time to go. "Come on, Casanova," he muttered under his breath. "On rentre. (Let’s go home.)"

As they made their way out of the park, Aurélien couldn’t help but glance back, half-expecting to see the girl and Lady again. He felt a little bad for laughing, but the whole situation had been so ridiculous, and Ocho—well, Ocho was just being a dog. He shook his head, thinking about how awkward the conversation had been. Hopefully, she’d see the humor in it eventually. Or not. Either way, it made for an interesting morning.

As they walked, Ocho trotted beside him, happily oblivious to the fact that he might’ve just ruined a perfectly good dog friendship. But Aurélien couldn’t be too mad at him. Dogs were dogs, after all.

"Who knows, maybe you’ll see Lady again next week," he said, casting a glance down at Ocho, who barked in response, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. "T'es vraiment incroyable, Ocho. (You’re really something, Ocho.)"

The dog looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, and Aurélien couldn’t help but laugh. He patted Ocho’s head affectionately. "Allez, rentrons à la maison. (Alright, let’s head home.)"

And with that, the two of them walked down the path, leaving the dog park—and Lady’s scandalized owner—behind.

Y/N walked briskly, tugging Lady’s leash gently as her dog trotted beside her, still eager to sniff every tree and bush they passed. She was still fuming about what had just happened at the dog park.

Really? Of all the days… Y/N shook her head in disbelief, recalling the smug look on that guy’s face when he laughed about the situation.

She had come to Madrid with her father only a few months ago, leaving behind her life in Philadelphia. Her dad had accepted a huge opportunity to be one of the first Black trainers for Real Madrid, an achievement that still filled her with pride despite her general indifference toward soccer. He had been a trainer for the Philadelphia Union before being approached by Real Madrid, but soccer had always been his passion. He’d been a semi-professional player back in the day, with dreams of going pro until an injury cut his career short. That’s when he decided to shift gears, dedicating his life to training and mentoring others. He had always talked about how the sport was slowly gaining more Black players, and he wanted to be a part of that change—especially in Europe, where racism was still rampant in the game.

For her father, it was about more than just soccer. It was about creating space for Black athletes and helping all players, but especially those who faced discrimination, to excel both mentally and physically. He had always been that way—passionate about making an impact, about being a positive figure for young Black athletes. And now, here they were in Madrid, living a completely different life.

Normally, their dog walker would’ve been the one dealing with Lady’s trips to the park. But since Y/N’s school schedule had a break this week, she’d wanted to take on more responsibilities at home, maybe give her dad and brothers a break. Plus, she figured it’d be good to spend time with Lady—though today, she regretted that decision a little.

Lady, a two-year-old Malinois was oblivious to the drama that had unfolded just moments ago. Y/N still couldn’t believe that dog had the audacity to pull that stunt.

She’s just a baby! Y/N thought to herself, but the memory of the man laughing about it only irritated her more.

When she and Lady finally made it home, Y/N pushed open the front door and was immediately greeted by the smell of coffee and the sound of her dad rummaging through his work bag. "Hey, Dad," she called out, unclipping Lady’s leash and watching as her dog immediately padded over to her water bowl.

Her father, Shawn Sr., looked up from where he stood at the kitchen counter, packing his bag for another long day of work at the Real Madrid training facility. He was dressed in his usual gear—team tracksuit and sneakers, his clipboard tucked under his arm.

"Hey, sweetheart. How was the park?" he asked with a smile, though the tiredness in his eyes was hard to miss.

Y/N rolled her eyes, throwing herself down onto the couch with an exaggerated huff. "It was a disaster. Some other Malinois dog was humping Lady. In front of everyone!"

Her dad chuckled, zipping up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "Oh, you mean Ocho? Yeah, I’ve been told about him. Isn’t that Lady’s little boyfriend?"

Y/N’s jaw dropped. "Dad! He’s not her boyfriend! Lady doesn’t need a boyfriend—she’s a baby!"

Her father raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. "She’s two years old, Y/N. That’s not exactly a baby in dog years."

Y/N crossed her arms. "Still. She doesn’t need to be fraternizing with that dog. He’s a menace." She glanced over at Lady, who was now sprawled out on the cool tile floor, perfectly content after her adventure. Y/N sighed. "I just can’t believe it."

Before her dad could respond, they heard footsteps thudding down the stairs. Her twin brother, Shawn Jr. (SJ for short), appeared at the bottom, still in his sweatpants and hoodie, his hair still wrapped in his durag. Their dad’s expression shifted from amusement to mild irritation.

"Really, SJ? You’re not dressed yet?" their dad asked, hands on his hips. "I thought you were coming with me to the facility today."

SJ shrugged, flopping down into one of the armchairs. "Yeah, I decided I’ll pass. Gonna stay here and hang out with Sutton." Sutton, their eleven-year-old brother, was upstairs playing video games, probably lost in his own little world.

Their dad sighed, clearly disappointed. "SJ, this is an opportunity for you to learn. You’re studying to be a physical therapist, and getting experience at the facility could be good for you."

SJ just shrugged again, barely lifting his eyes from his phone. "Yeah, I know, but I’m not feeling it today. Sutton needs a babysitter anyway."

Y/N watched the interaction, sensing the underlying tension between her dad and her brother. SJ had always been a bit… lazy, even when it came to his studies. Their dad tried not to push too hard, but it was clear he wished SJ showed more enthusiasm—especially about opportunities like this.

Before things could get too tense, her dad turned to her, a thoughtful look on his face. "You know, Y/N, you could always come with me instead. It could be a nice daddy-daughter day. You’re always so busy with school, and we haven’t spent much time together."

Y/N groaned, her head sinking back into the couch cushions. "Dad, no. I have so much work to do." She thought about the mountain of assignments waiting for her—finishing up her senior year at an American university in Madrid was no joke, especially since she was majoring in accounting.

Her dad gave her a knowing smile. "Come on, it’ll be fun. Besides, you can take a break from numbers for a bit."

Y/N hesitated, but when she saw the hopeful look on her dad’s face, she sighed in defeat. "Fine, fine. I’ll go. But don’t expect me to be excited about it."

"That’s my girl," her dad grinned, clearly pleased with himself.

Y/N dragged herself upstairs to change, grumbling the whole way. Once in her room, she swapped out her usual contacts for her glasses, then pulled on a pair of tailored black slacks and an oxford shirt, leaving the top three buttons undone and rolling up the sleeves. She slipped into her Adidas Sambas before heading back downstairs, but not before she paused in front of her mother’s picture on the wall.

Her mom had passed away from breast cancer a year ago, and not a day went by that Y/N didn’t think about her. She kissed her first two fingers and gently placed them on the photograph. "Have a great day, Mom," she whispered before turning and making her way back to the living room.

Her dad was waiting for her by the door, his smile warm as she approached. "Ready?"

Y/N sighed, but there was a small smile tugging at her lips. "As ready as I’ll ever be."

And with that, they headed out the door, ready to spend the day together.

Aurélien had been off his game all morning. His mind kept wandering back to that girl from the park. Her. She wasn’t just a pretty girl—she was stunning. Her curves were impossible to miss, and he remembered how her leggings clung to her hips and thick thighs. She had an effortless, natural beauty about her that contrasted with her fiery attitude. And that scowl she gave him? Yeah, that was stuck in his mind too, more than he’d like to admit.

Her American accent was a dead giveaway, which wasn’t shocking to him since Madrid had been attracting more expats lately. He wished their first encounter had been on better terms, though. She was fine—no, real fine. Sexy even, scowl or not. If they hadn’t gotten off on the wrong foot, maybe he could have gotten her number, but instead, all he got was her icy glare.

As they finished their drills for Sunday training, Aurélien, Jude, and Camavinga headed toward the physical therapy room to cool down. The upcoming game was on everyone’s mind, but their new head physio, Shawn, always made their cool-down sessions easygoing. He was one of the first Black trainers at Real Madrid, a rarity Aurélien appreciated, and it was clear from the start that he was sharp. He also knew how to make the room feel comfortable and familiar. Aurélien loved seeing another Black face in a high position—it gave him a sense of belonging, especially as soccer continued to fight its battles with racism.

As they entered, Shawn was busy stretching out Vini Jr.’s muscles while Tupac’s “Keep Ya Head Up” played softly in the background. Classic Shawn. The guys gave him elbow bumps as they settled onto their respective tables.

Jude stretched out with a sigh. "Auré, you think Bronny’s really gonna get minutes with the Lakers?"

"Man, he’s LeBron’s son, you already know they’ll make room for him," Camavinga chimed in, earning a laugh from everyone.

"Listen," Shawn interjected, his Philly accent sneaking in with a slight drawl. "Bronny coming in is gonna change the dynamics. Big time. I’m telling y’all, you better watch out. Bronny gonna be doing numbers, no cap."

"Man, I love your slang, Shawn," Jude said, shaking his head with a grin. "You gotta teach me more. Is it all the same as ours?"

Shawn chuckled, switching from Vini to Camavinga’s table. "Y’all got your own thing, but trust me, Philly slang is a whole different vibe. But hey, y’all ever had a real Philly cheesesteak? I might have to invite y’all over for dinner sometime. Get a real taste of home."

Camavinga perked up, curious. "What’s a Philly cheesesteak?"

"Bruh," Shawn said, shaking his head. "You missing out, but I got you, Cama. We’ll fix that." Shawn added with a laugh, giving Camavinga a nod before the door to the therapy room opened.

Aurélien’s heart skipped when he saw her walk in, carrying a bag of supplies in her arms. Her eyes immediately found Shawn.

"I didn’t know which ones to get, Daddy," she said, and Shawn waved her off with a smile.

"It’s all good, babygirl. Thank you." He turned to the guys, gesturing towards her. "Fellas, this is my daughter, Y/N."

Aurélien’s jaw almost hit the floor. Of course, she was Shawn’s daughter.

"This is Jude, Camavinga, Aurélien, and you know Vini," Shawn introduced her with pride, but when Y/N’s gaze landed on Aurélien, her expression changed.

"You!" she snapped, her scowl from earlier making an immediate return.

Aurélien rolled his eyes, leaning back on his table. "Don’t be dramatic," he said, trying to downplay the tension.

Y/N pointed at him accusingly. "That’s the dog owner from the park, Daddy! The one with the horny dog!"

Shawn blinked, then laughed, completely unbothered. "Oh wow, that’s what’s up. I didn’t know we lived so close to each other, Aurélien."

Y/N stared at her father in disbelief. "Wait, what? Daddy, his dog was humping Lady!"

Shawn shrugged casually. "Dogs are dogs, babygirl."

Grumbling under her breath, Y/N shot Aurélien one last look of disdain before she turned and stalked out of the room. The guys all burst into laughter.

"Sorry ‘bout that, y’all," Shawn said, shaking his head. "She just treats that dog like it’s her baby."

Aurélien sighed, trying to ignore the fact that the same girl who’d been cursing him out earlier was now his physio’s daughter. What were the odds?

"I didn’t know you had a daughter, Shawn," Jude said, giving him a curious glance.

"Yeah, don’t get any ideas, Bellingham," Shawn shot back with a knowing look. "Off limits."

Jude held up his hands in mock surrender. "Sorry, sorry"

Shawn moved over to Aurélien next, starting to stretch him out. Aurélien couldn’t help but replay the whole thing in his head. Y/N despised him, no question about it, but damn—she was still fine as hell.

And now that Shawn had immediately shut down any possible thoughts about her? Yeah, that only made things more complicated.

Even if Aurélien had wanted to pursue her, he knew now he was pretty much screwed.

Merde.

TO BE CONTINUED....

[babyouran]

The Twins Fight! - what started as a tricky game soon turns into a dramatic argument where the twins cause chaos in their fight against one another

pairing - fem!reader x host club

apart of - ouran add-in

"Let's all play the ‘Which one is Hikaru’ game!" The twins exclaimed, standing up while the ladies clapped at their announcement. "So, can you tell which one of us is Hikaru?"

"Well, it's hard to say," One lady began, tapping her finger against her chin.

"You're identical!" The other added.

"Many ladies have tried to tell us apart, but so far none have succeeded."

"Oh, they're playing that game again?" Y/n turned to Haruhi, the girls didn't have any customers at the moment. They were just enjoying the less busy crowd and chatting about a book Y/n read recently.

"It's kind of stupid," Haruhi expressed.

"What? Have you got a problem with it, Haruhi?" They overheard her comment, turning to look at the two girls.

"No, it's just odd," She simply spoke, turning her attention back to Y/n.

"Hikaru! Kaoru!" Tamaki spoke, running in with a computer. "When I gave you control of the club's website, I did so on one condition. That you take it seriously!" Tamaki scolded them.

"We take our job very seriously boss," Hikaru responded.

"In fact, last night we worked on it till dawn," Kaoru added.

"Is this what you worked so hard to create?" He pulled up the screen, showing Y/n without her mask on and a shorter dress going up to her knees.

"Oh no," She stood up, grabbing onto the device to look at it. In response to seeing the less-than-accurate image, and realizing what lecture she would receive if her father saw such an image, she slumped to the ground. 

"You look great N/n-chan," Honey smiled.

"Pretty," Mori commented, and soon enough the girls were all surrounding the screen trying to catch a glance.

"There, there," Haruhi patted her back.

"My teeth don't look like that," Y/n pouted. "Also my lips are not- never mind. You have to take that down," She walked over to the twins flicking their foreheads. "Kyoya-senpai!" She yelled, wandering off from the mischievous duo.

"When did you take those photos of her?" Tamaki walked up to the twins.

"Didn't you hear her? We didn't," Hikaru explained.

"There is something called Photoshop, boss," Kaoru added.

"Can you do it with her wearing this?" Tamaki lifted a magazine where the main model was wearing a fancy green dress. 

"No," They deadpanned, walking away to leave a disappointed Tamaki. Instead, they decided to focus their attention back on Y/n who was arguing with Kyoya.

"I don't care if it got you more views on the website, if you don't want to be sued by my father take it down!" She stated, clearly frustrated and flustered trying to reason with Kyoya. In the presence of the twins, she switched her yelling onto them, taking the computer from Kyoya’s hands and motioning it to the boys. "Take it down," She pushed it in their hands.

"Why? It's fun. When we get bored we make fun."

"No," Y/n rolled her eyes, “This is not fun, this is bad!”

"You're our pet," Hikaru spoke, while Kaoru started working on getting rid of the photo.

"Be a good girl now," Kaoru looked up from over the screen.

"I'm not a dog. I can’t be both of your entertainment like this, you should go on and find a toy."

"You want a toy?" A dark figure appeared from behind a door, candlestick in hand. "Toys, toys. If you like toys then you should come and visit my Black Magic Club," The boy offered. This piqued Haruhi’s interest as she walked over to the mysterious figure to hear more about his offer. 

"We've recently opened a marketplace that hosts black magic items from across the globe. We're also holding mass around the clock. If you visit right now, I'll even throw in a free curse doll. You can have Belzenef as your gift."

"Why is he talking to us through a crack in the door?" Haruhi wondered, looking back at the fellow club members.

"Wait a second, has that door always been there?" The twins pondered.

"Nekozawa-senpai likes to hide. He doesn't care for brightly lit places," Kyoya informed the group.

"Don't get involved with that guy Y/n," Tamaki snuck up on her, scaring her. She jumped and flinched where she was standing. "If you do you'll end up being cursed, don't you do it either Haruhi!"

"How do you know?" Y/n asked, moving closer to the door, her arm was about to reach for the doorknob but Tamaki stepped forward to pull her arm back so that she was standing next to her. 

"It happened during final exams, at the end of the last school year," Tamaki let go of her wrist since she was trying to shake her hand out of it. He then went on to explain a story where he stepped on a 'cursed' doll, leading to him taking a test in different lettering and he also didn't know any of the students in that class. "I was in a different dimension."

"Scary!" Honey cowered.

"Did that really happen to you?" Haruhi questioned, unsure, trying to hide behind the shorter boy. Y/n walked over to the nervous Honey, bending down a bit and patting his head in a comforting way.

"Don't you worry Honey-senpai, or you either Haruhi-chan. I think Tamaki-senpai just went to the wrong class," Y/n explained while Honey was hugging her. 

"It was a curse! I know because I woke up three days later and my legs were as heavy as lead!" Tamaki fired back.

"Your legs were heavy because you ran a marathon the day before, remember?" Kyoya told him, still working on his normal tasks despite the new presence of the man. 

"You shouldn't underestimate the dark powers of Belzenef the cursed doll. All you have to do is write the name of someone you hate on his back and then that someone will come into misfortune," Nekozawa popped up, holding the cat doll.

"Wow this guy is dark in more ways than one," Kaoru spoke, and soon he and Hikaru exchanged a glance.

"I wonder what he will think of this," Hikaru showed the flashlight from behind his back before shining it on Tamaki and Nekozawa. Both of them ran away scared, Nekozawa choosing to retreat to his club room.

"How on earth could you two do such a thing? Obviously, the two of you don't know the true terror of the black mirror!" Tamaki shook, but this wasn’t anything the twins paid much attention to, instead just wandering off with complaints that they were bored.

"My dignity as the club's leader is being ignored," Tamaki sulked in his spot. 

"Hey, Y/n! We have a favor to ask you," The twins spoke.

"What’s that?" Y/n responded, going over to her bag to search for a new book.

"Can we go to your house?"

"No."

"That could be fun," Tamaki looked up.

"No, it wouldn't. My house is almost the same as yours, it would be different if we were going to Haruhi's, that could be fun," Y/n shrugged, finding her book and taking a seat. Soon enough the twins were standing around Haruhi, hopeful eyes looking upon her. 

"No, you're just going to make fun of it," She shook her head, crossing her arms in distaste. 

"I think it's about time we all pay our respects to our beloved Haruhi's family!" Tamaki beamed.

"No way in hell, only Y/n can," Haruhi mumbled the last part, looking over at the girl reading intently.

"We can settle this with a game! If you can't pick out which one of us is Hikaru, then your penalty will be the two of us coming over to your house later tonight!"

"It's kind of simple," Y/n commented. "That's Hikaru and that's Kaoru," She pointed to the boys.

"You're wrong."

"No she's right," Haruhi agreed.

"Sure you guys look alike, but that doesn't mean your personalities are the same," Y/n mentioned. 

"How did you tell?" One of the girls asked.

"With that hat, it's so hard," Another wondered, Y/n ignored the words of the girls since the book once again captured her interest which made Haruhi have to answer the question. 

"Well, how do I put it? It's kinda difficult to explain. But Hiakru's speech and actions make him come across a little more mischievous than Kaoru," Haruhi explained honestly, not truly thinking about her words before speaking them.

"I'm sorry Hikaru, I don't mean to laugh," Kaoru spoke, trying to hold back a laugh but soon ended up breaking into a loud one.

"I don't see what's so funny. I'm honest, I speak my mind, and I don't hold back. It's sneaky people like Kaoru who are the troublemakers," Hikaru argued.

"Don't turn this on me, Hikaru. After all, I'm the one who's always going along with all of your selfish games.”

"I may suggest them but you're the one that gets into them Kaoru. If you hate it so much then why don't you just stop?"

"Because I'd hate to see you make an ass out of yourself, in front of everyone. It was your idea to call Y/n a pet, but I noticed you were quick to make a pass at her. Admit it, Hikaru, you're actually in love with Y/n, aren't you?" Karou smugly spoke, Hikaru getting all flustered.

"You've got it all wrong, Kaoru! Man, you're such a freaking idiot," Hikaru told him annoyed.

"Yeah! There are some things in this world that must never be said," Tamaki buzzed.

"Why would I fall for her? I mean she can't even show her face, she probably looks like a tanuki," Hikaru claimed.

"How dare you call her a raccoon dog?" Tamaki fumed. "You're going to pay for that!"

"Can you guys be quiet-" Y/n tried to speak before a large rumbling cut her off. 

Soon enough Renge made another surprise appearance and started to emerge from the ground. "Our beloved Y/n is in the middle of a beautiful yet poignant seven-sided romantic relationship! And to make it even better, two of her admirers are twins, torn apart by love! Just the thought of it could make me eat three bowls of rice!”

"Wait, what did you-"

"Oh butt out, otaku," The twins spoke causing a total flip in Renge’s confidence as she now stepped down from the platform all sad.

"You guys are meanies! You shouldn't say something like that to your manager!"

"But Renge, I thought you had feelings for Y/n as well.”

"I do and it's platonic, but I have no problem with her having relationships on the side. Also after speaking with Haruhi, I'm developing feelings for him as well," Renge announced back to her confident self.

"I'm confused, I thought you had decided to go back to France, Renge," Haruhi walked over.

"Well, I was going to start up a host club of my own… but, I don't think France is ready for a host club, just yet," She told Haruhi, a light blush on her cheeks.

"I don't think anywhere is ever ready for a host club," Y/n commented, Renge was about to mention something else but was cut off by the twins' voices raging at one another. 

"Cut it out already! You're the one always crawling into my bed! Talk about annoying," Kaoru yelled.

"I only do that because you look lonely. I wouldn't choose to sleep in your bed, you idiot!"

"Who are you calling an idiot? You're the one who sucks at math."

"Oh yeah, well you're failing your foreign language class you dummy," Hikaru argued, just continuing to go back and forth like little children.

"That's it we're over!" They fumed, walking in opposite directions of one another, stomping off into the distance. 

Later the next day Haruhi and Y/n were sitting beside each other in class chatting before it began.

"What did you think of the fourth chapter?" Y/n asked her friend who was taking out her book.

"I didn't expect Tobio to show up especially him claiming he wanted his daughter back," Haruhi spoke excitedly.

"Hey Y/n, Haruhi!" One twin walked in, flamingo pink hair. "Good morning.”

"Um, Hikaru," Y/n spoke, squinting her eyes in disbelief at what she was seeing. "What did you do to your hair?"

"Why is it dyed pink?" Haruhi wondered.

"Because pink suits me. Don't you think it's cute? From now on I'm the pink-haired twin. I didn't want to be mistaken for that Kaoru for the rest of my life, you know?" Hikaru mentioned, his now blue-haired brother, coming up next to him.

"Good morning Y/n, Haruhi," Kaoru voiced, Hikaru, walked over to an empty seat near Y/n and sat beside her. "I was finally able to sleep all by myself last night, but I ended up having a nightmare. I dreamt my stylist had dyed my hair pink. It was so garish and ridiculous looking, I woke up screaming.”

Hikaru stood up and walked over kicking Kaoru's chair so that he fell. Kaoru then returned the favor, knocking Hikaru down the same way. Once back to their seats, the twins stared at each other and soon enough an all-out war erupted with a multitude of items being flung over Haruhi and Y/n’s heads. 

"This is going to be a long day," Y/n grumbled as Haruhi nodded in agreement.

When class was over and it was noontime Haruhi and Y/n decided to chat about the lesson they had just finished learning while walking into the cafeteria. 

"I was wondering what all the fuss was about, I can't believe the two of you are still fighting," Tamaki spoke, watching the twins in line arguing about food.  "You're a disgrace to the Host Club!"

"Why is the rest of the club here?" Y/n questioned, turning to Haruhi. Haruhi just shrugged and let Y/n wander over to the group. "Hey guys!"

"N/n-chan!" Honey exclaimed.

"Hey, look who it is!" A short-haired girl spoke, joining hands with another.

"I've never seen them all together like that," Another one commented.

"We've had enough of this, you're both to blame for this fight," Honey said, then pulling out a cake. "Hika-chan and Kao-chan I want you to make up and then go halfsies on this cake, 'kay? But I want to have a piece too, and N/n-chan should get some, so I guess we're gonna have to have fourthsies," Honey went on babbling in an attempt to try and figure out how to cut the cake.

Y/n just walked over to the nox distressed and anxious boy, lifting him, and taking him over to Mori. 

"You're just making it worse, leave them alone," Mori told Honey, moving him far away from the irritated twins.

"Oh, Y/n! I didn't expect to run into you in the dining hall," Tamaki fangirled, rushing over to the girl who was watching Honey now munching on the cake he was once going to share.

"Haruhi and I decided to follow the twins here, they have been acting odd all day," Y/n looked over to her senpai. 

"I brought a boxed lunch and I just wanted to eat it in the classroom," Haruhi mumbled, walking over to where the host club now decided to eat lunch. 

"A boxed lunch?" Tamaki repeated.

In Tamaki's head

"Tamaki, darling, I hope you will accept this food I made. I'm not amazing at cooking, but I made it with love!"

"I will eat anything you make Y/n, it's always beautiful and tastes delicious," Tamaki declared 

"I will eat it!" Tamaki spoke out loud.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Kyoya mumbled.

"Ah," Y/n ordered beside Kyoya, pointing out the dish of her choice

"Our chef makes amazing crab, it truly is so delicious the way he seasons it. Maybe once you can come visit and try the dish," Kyoya mentioned, the two walking towards the lunch table that the Host Club members were currently occupying.

"Damn rich people," Haruhi grumbled.

"Haruhi, come sit over here!" Y/n waved her over, but instead of just Haruhi another friend had joined alongside them, Hikaru.

"What's that, what do you have for lunch?" He questioned, watching Haruhi take her seat.

"Yesterday's leftovers, and a rolled omelet,"

"Haruhi you want to switch?" Y/n looked over at the mouthwatering expression on Haruhi’s face as she stared at Y/n’s food. With a happy nod, the two exchanged their meals.

"This is amazing!" Haruhi exclaimed, tasting the food.

"Great! I usually like to eat more in private, so I can just save yours for later!"

"Y/n, I got a meal that you’ll enjoy. Want to try it, all you have to do is take your mask off," Kaoru softly grabbed her chin, tugging it closer towards him with one hand while his other held a fork with a piece of his meal on it.

Hikaru chomped the food off of the fork instead of the intended recipient, "Quit butting in Kaoru." At the possibility of another fight, Y/n moved out of her seat and grabbed Haruhi's hand to take her with her. Just as they were out of the line of fire Kaoru threw his soup at his twin but missed the wanted target and instead, it got splashed all over Tamaki. 

"I'm going to go eat alone now," Y/n quietly muttered over the yelling of the twins, choosing to take her leave from the noisy group.

After the whole cafeteria incident, the group (excluding the twins) met up again in the club room, hoping to relax with some tea and discuss the problematic antics of the twins.

"Looking at the numbers, if this situation isn't resolved, I'm afraid we're going to have to stop offering our brotherly love package. We're down one pair of loving brothers," Kyoya announced, typing in some digits into his calculator. "Oh, Haruhi, I just want you to know there's no reason for you to feel responsible, even though it was your tactless comment that started this whole feud between the twins."

"It's weird for Hika-chan and Kao-chan to be fighting like this," Honey spoke, playing with Usa-chan. "It's never happened before."

"They have never fought before?" Haruhi pondered, looking over at Honey.

"I've known Hika-chan and Kao-chan since we were in preschool. We weren't in the same year so I never really got to talk to them, but I remember that the two of them always played together," He told the group.

"Yeah that's true, I mean I've only known the twins since middle school but they have always stood out," Tamaki added, he went on about how the twins had been together for a while, saying it might not be such a bad thing they are fighting.

Yet quickly his former opinion changed when the twins finally arrived and they were still fighting, Tamaki quickly getting annoyed at the twins’ reckless behavior. 

"Don't you guys think it's maybe time to give up all this fighting?" Tamaki wondered. "It's driving me insane."

"What'd you say? It is driving you insane? You've got to be kidding me, how do you think I feel? Every time I look in the mirror I see his face. I'm sick and tired of being mistaken for you Kaoru! The truth is I hate your guts!" Hikaru snapped.

"You took the words right out of my mouth. In fact, I hate you so much, I bought this. Belzenef curse doll!" He pulled out the cat doll and a marker. "I'm going to complete the curse, Hikaru, I'm going to write your name on his back. From this day forward you are going to experience nothing, except misfortune and sorrow."

"Okay, this is getting to be enough," Y/n interrupted. "All because of some comment, that didn't even mean to offend you guys."

"Yes!" They both screamed. Mori rushed over to take Y/n’s hand in an attempt to bring her back into safety if they decided to start one of their throwing tantrums again. He did not want to see the girl getting injured once again. 

Haruhi finally had it, truly annoyed at the way they were treating her friend and how stupid they were being about an argument that didn’t make much sense. They were acting like toddlers. 

"Will you guys knock it off?" She smacked the sides of their heads. "What do you think you're doing? You don't bring something like this into a petty fight,” she motioned to Belzenef, “Both of you are at fault here, but what is truly sad is that you're bringing everyone else into your big mess! Now apologize to each other, if you don't make up right now I'm never going to let you come over to my house!" Haruhi threatened.

"So, then what you're saying Haruhi is that if we make up, we can come to your place?" The twins questioned at the same time.

"Oh, no," Y/n whispered, slapping her forehead, she figured out the mischievous plan they were trying to hatch all along. Haruhi slowly turned the doll around just for it to be blank, her face dropping in fear.

"I'm so sorry Kaoru, even though I was just following our script I said such awful things to you. I'm not fit to be your brother," Hikaru apologized.

"Don't say that Hikaru! I was so worried, I couldn't live with myself if I ever thought I had hurt you," They embraced each other, repeating apologies.

"You've got to be kidding! You mean you guys were faking it this whole time?" Honey shouted, arms flaring above his head.

"We didn't have anything else to do, we were bored!" They told him, laughing with each other. Haruhi was now sulking to the ground where Y/n moved in attempts to try and comfort her.

"Twins with too much time on their hands, are the devil," Tamaki concluded.

Later on the next day, the club was back to running like normal, with no obnoxious feuds between the twins but instead back to their game.

"Okay, it's time to play the ‘Which one is Hikaru’ game!" The boys announced.

"I know," A girl with short hair raised her hand. "The twin with the pink hair is Hikaru!"

"We have a winner!"

"So, are you two going to keep your wild hair color even though you made up? It's much easier to tell the two of you apart now," A girl with longer hair spoke.

"Not really," Y/n sighed, sitting up in her seat where she was eating cake with Honey. "The blue is Hikaru and the pink is Kaoru, they switched for the day," She then continued back with munching on the sweet treat while the twins stared in astonishment. 

"Do you realize what happened Hikaru? Until now, there were only two groups of people, 'us' and 'everyone else'. But for the first time, someone's crossed into our world."

next chapter - The Grade School Host is the Naughty Type!

[thenerdykneazle]

Marry You

Summary: Garreth proclaims to anyone and everyone, including you, that he is going to marry you one day – despite the fact that you haven’t even agreed to court him (not that he's asked). Set during 5th year. It was supposed to be a bunch of short drabbles. One of them got out of hand (oops).

Garreth Weasley x Gryffindor F!MC

A/N: I added Garreth to DADA b/c in the game he only has like 2 classes with MC. It’s a crime that they didn’t give him the same schedule as Leander, honestly. You know those idiots would be besties and take all the same classes.

Warnings: none, pure fluff for a change, pining, *slight* Seb bashing if you squint but really he's just his moody self

Word Count: 6330

To Imelda

Garreth was elated when you handed him the fwooper feather. “Brilliant! This is going to take a moment to brew. You should get back to brewing your Edurus Potion, and I’ll tell you when this concoction’s finished.”

“Don’t keep me waiting too long,” you replied before leaving to work on your own potion. Garreth watched you walk away with stars in his eyes.

Imelda came up beside him. “Causing trouble again, Weasley?” she asked.

Garreth jumped at the girl suddenly so close to him. “Just getting started. I think I’ve got a partner in crime now,” he said.

“Oh?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Dragging that new fifth-year into your schemes, are you?”

He gave her a cheeky smile. “I may be dragging her into my schemes, but I’d let her drag me anywhere,” he said.

Imelda scrunched up her face in disgust at the mushy proclamation. “Ugh! Down boy,” she said. “You’ve only just met the poor girl.”

He sighed dreamily as he watched you work across the room. You seemed to have a knack for potions like he did. “Maybe, but I’m gonna marry her one day,” he said, imaging a future running a shop in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley with you.

Imelda rolled her eyes at the dramatic boy. “Whatever you say, Gryffindor,” she said before walking off.

When his potion sparked out wild fireworks, he caught your eye in the chaos. You looked thoroughly amused, and he couldn’t help but feel that the potion had been a resounding success if it got you to smile that way. He did feel a bit guilty that he had gotten you in hot water with Sharp, but the ex-auror didn’t seem too fussed about things.

To Sebastian

Garreth was enamoured when you knocked Sebastian on his ass. Again. You were all duelling in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and Professor Hecat seemed to enjoy seeing the Slytherin knocked down a peg as much as Leander did since she paired you and Sebastian together a second time. Garreth cheered even louder than Leander for you, and you gave the dorky pair a little salute.

Personally, though, Garreth had never had an issue with his fellow freckled classmate. He was friendly, had a good sense of humour, and enjoyed helping other students with their studies – or, at least, he used to before his sister was cursed. They had even teamed up on a prank here and there over the years. So, when Garreth saw the way the brunet looked at you, he had one thought as he smirked to himself: Game on.

You helped Sebastian back to his feet. “Nice job,” he said. “All your extra practice is paying off.”

You shrugged. “I suppose so,” you agreed. “You’ve been improving, as well, though.”

“I’d like a fair fight sometime. Get to use all my tricks,” he said. “Though, I could show you one or two beforehand if you’d like.”

You smiled slightly. “I might be interested,” you replied.

“I’ll be in touch, then,” Sebastian said with a smirk. He brushed himself off as he walked back to Ominis.

You walked back to your fellow Gryffindors. “Godric himself would be proud,” Leander said as Garreth gave you a congratulatory hug.

From across the room, Sebastian eyed the redhead as he embraced you. Garreth caught him watching and sent him a wink and a cheeky grin.

“That was bloody brilliant!” Garreth said as he let go of you.

“Thanks,” you said, beaming at him.

Leander resisted the urge to roll his eyes as his curly-haired friend seemed to dominate your attention and vice versa. He busied himself talking to Andrew. You and Garreth started talking about your recent encounter with a kneazle den out in the forest, barely noticing your friend’s absence. Soon, though, Professor Hecat stole you away to talk about an extra assignment.

Garreth took the opportunity to saunter over to the Slytherins. “You put up a good fight,” he said to Sebastian.

“Thanks,” he replied before cutting to the chase. “So, you and MC seem pretty cozy.” Sebastian had always been the jealous type.

“I should hope so,” Garreth replied. “I am going to marry her, after all.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow at that. Weasleys were a known pure-blood family, but most of them weren’t those kinds of pure-bloods that had their children pledged to suitors from a young age.

Ominis gave the Gryffindor a pitying expression, though Garreth didn’t notice as Sebastian spoke up at the same time. “Didn’t realize your family was into that sort of thing. Arranged betrothals and whatnot,” he said.

“Oh, no, we’ll marry for love,” Garreth said confidently.

“Wait, so are you even engaged?” Ominis asked.

Garreth laughed. “No, of course not! We’re fifteen,” he replied. “Well, I’ll be sixteen next month.”

“So, are you courting?” Sebastian asked.

“Not yet,” Garreth said simply.

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at the ginger. “So, what you’re saying is, you have no actual claim to her,” he said.

Garreth shrugged, looking unbothered. “I may not have any official title yet, but I wanted to give you fair warning not to fall too hard for her.”

Sebastian laughed. “Yeah, thanks, mate,” he said sarcastically. “What makes you so certain she’d choose you, anyway?”

Garreth smirked at him. “I just am.”

He let that be his final word, as he saw you walking away from Professor Hecat. Sebastian just gaped at the overconfident boy as he left. “Gryffindors,” he grumbled.

“You do realize that includes MC,” Ominis pointed out.

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut it.”

To Leander

Garreth overheard you telling Professor Shah that you didn’t have a telescope. He was disappointed when she paired you with Amit before he could offer. He felt a pang of jealousy when Amit offered his old telescope to you. He tried to refocus on the stargazing he was supposed to be doing. Leander was struggling to find Sirius. He helped his best friend before they hurried downstairs, seeking the warmth of the castle.

On the way down, he overheard Amit asking you to go out to an astronomy table with him. The small pang of jealousy he felt earlier bloomed into anguish. Was Amit really trying to earn your affections? He expected to have to compete with Sallow, but he felt bad at the idea of stealing you away from the good-natured Ravenclaw. Not bad enough to back off, of course, but still.

He and Leander walked all the way back to the Gryffindor common room. Garreth flopped into an armchair with a huff.

Leander raised an eyebrow at him. “What’s got you so worked up?” he asked.

“Amit’s trying to flirt with my future wife,” Garreth grumbled.

“Oh, not this again,” Leander muttered to himself.

“Yes, this again,” Garreth replied firmly. “I’m serious, Lee. She’s the one.”

Leander just shook his head in amusement. “Yes, you’ve made that very clear,” he said. “And why is it you think Amit is trying to steal her affections?”

“You didn’t hear him?” Garreth practically yelled. He jumped to his feet and started pacing. “First, he was all, ‘Oh, let me adjust the telescope for you.’ Then he just gave her his old telescope. And then, he invited her out exploring the grounds to go find an astronomy table.”

“He might as well have proposed right then,” Leander replied nonchalantly, still reclining lazily on the couch and biting back a smirk.

“I know! I–” Garreth started, but he paused, spinning around to face Leander. He glared at the taller boy. “You’re mocking me.”

Leander let the smile break onto his face. “A bit,” he admitted. “Gar, Amit is just friendly. He’d give an Ashwinder the shirt off his back if they said they were cold. You’re reading too much into it.”

“Am I?” Garreth asked seriously, putting a hand on his hip as he eyed his friend.

“Yes,” Leander replied equally seriously. “And, with all due respect to your undying love, you barely know MC. What if you’re not compatible? What if she wants to move to Peru or something when she graduates? What if she doesn’t want kids?”

Garreth shrugged. “I don’t need kids,” he said.

Leander rolled his eyes. “Have you met your family?” he asked. “And you practically knocked me into the Black Lake jumping into my arms when you got the owl saying your brother and his wife are having a baby.”

Garreth blushed at the memory. “Okay, but they’re out snuggling up in the cold to go look at the stars,” he whined.

“Your brother and his pregnant wife?” Leander asked.

Garreth let out a frustrated groan. “No, MC and Amit! Keep up, Lee! There’s no chance he’s not trying to woo her in such a romantic setting. They’ll probably be out all night, knowing MC. They’ll cozy up as they watch the sunrise and kiss just as the sun peaks out over the horizon.”

“Ah, you’re back to the whole Amit thing,” Leander observed.

“He’s probably got his arms around her right now to ‘help’ her focus the telescope,” Garreth said. “Maybe I should go out there and–”

Garreth fell silent at the sound of the portrait creaking open. He was glad he did when he saw you stepping into the common room. “You’re home early!” he said. He had meant to say it in a cool, casual tone but ended up shouting it in excitement, instead.

“Am I?” you asked, giving him a confused look. “I didn’t know I had an appointment.”

“Well, I just heard Amit invite you out stargazing and figured you’d be gone a while,” Garreth blurted out. Leander smacked a hand over his face as he shook his head at his moronic friend.

“Oh,” you said. You shrugged. “The table was just on the castle wall. It didn’t take long to find.”

“Do you want kids?” Garreth asked, stunning both you and Leander.

You looked at him with wide eyes. “Right now?” you asked. “Because I’ll have to pass, thanks.”

Garreth’s face flamed with embarrassment. “Merlin, no, that’s not what I…Not now, just…in the future. Possibly. I mean, do you like kids?” he corrected.

“Oh. Yeah, one day. I love kids,” you replied.

“Great!” he said before he could stop himself. “Because, um, my brother is having a baby soon, and I’ll have to do a lot of babysitting. I might need a hand, and Lee here is useless with kids, so…”

Leander glared at him, and Garreth just gave him an apologetic smile.

“That sounds fun!” you replied.

Garreth’s eyes lit up. “Brilliant! I’ll reach out if I need assistance, then,” he said with a dopey grin.

“Sounds good,” you said as you made your way toward the stairs up to the girls’ dormitories. “Good night, you two.”

They both wished you a good night. Once your back was turned, Garreth smiled wildly at Leander and mouthed ‘I told you’ rather aggressively at him. Leander just rolled his eyes.

To Poppy

Garreth sprinted down the corridors to reach the faculty tower. He took the stairs up it three at a time, grabbing the handrail to whip sharply around the landings. His legs were on fire by the time he reached the infirmary. He was too out of breath to form a proper sentence when he’d met Nurse Blainey at the entrance.

“Where��How…MC?” he managed between pants as his lungs heaved to get the oxygen his body so desperately needed.

“She’s okay, so just take a moment–” she said, holding up her hands to try to get the boy to pause and catch his breath.

“I need to see her. Please,” he urged.

He looked as if he might burst into tears at any moment, and the mediwitch took pity on the boy. She led him to your bedside. “She’s stable but hasn’t woken up yet. I gave her a sedative so I could change the dressing over a rather painful wound on her leg. It should heal completely in time, though,” she explained as she walked him over.

She held the curtain around your bed back, so Garreth could step inside of it. He gasped when he saw the cuts and bruises on your face and arms. The rest of you was hidden under the blanket, and he could only imagine how much worse it got. Poppy was sitting in a chair on the far side of the bed. Garreth sat down opposite her, pulling the chair closer to the bed while turning it around so he could face the head of the it. He held your hand gently in both of his.

You were a force to be reckoned with, but right now you looked so…fragile.

“What happened?” he rasped, looking over to Poppy.

“We…It happened so fast,” she said, head bowed in shame. “We were fighting a camp of poachers, and a manticore sprang out of their tent. It had a collar of goblin metal they used to control it. It attached her, scratching her, and biting her leg.” She dropped her face into her hands. “Merlin, her scream.” Poppy winced at the memory.

“A manticore?” Garreth repeated in disbelief. “Godric’s heart, I’m glad it didn’t sting her!”

“It almost did, but I cast depulso and knocked it off of her,” she said. “I just wish I’d reacted sooner.”

“Hey,” Garreth said gently as he held a hand out to her across the bed. She sheepishly took it as she finally raised her eyes to look at him. “You saved her life. I can’t thank you enough for that.” He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and smiled gently at her.

“O-oh. Are you two…? I mean, I didn’t realize you were more than friends,” she said, pulling her hand out of his grasp and linking it with the other one in her lap. She trained her gaze on her hands rather than the boy sat across from her.

“We’re not. Not yet, anyway,” Garreth said as he looked at you with a fond smile on his face. He turned back to Poppy with a devilish grin. “Make no mistake, though, I’m gonna make her my wife one day.”

“Wow. That’s, um, wonderful,” she said, giving him a pained smile.

Garreth chuckled. “I know everyone thinks I’m crazy for saying it, but I really do believe it. She’s captured my heart and soul, this one,” he said.

“She’s a lucky girl,” Poppy said sincerely.

“I hope so,” Garreth replied with a grateful smile. He looked back at you. “I know she hasn’t been here very long, but I don’t know what I’d do if I ever really lost her. I’d have to find a new supplier for all my potion ingredients and everything!” He spoke sincerely until the last sentence.

You let out a groan as you rubbed your head with the hand Garreth wasn’t holding. “I think I’m gonna have to close shop for a week or two,” you croaked out.

Garreth chuckled. “All the cute things I said, and you wake up for that part?” he teased.

You gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Gar,” you said. “I’ll try to time it better next time.”

The sincerity in your voice nearly broke his heart. He reached a hand up to stroke your cheek. “Hey, no, I was just joking,” he said sweetly. “But there better not be a ‘next time,’ and I’m very serious about that. No more close calls like this.”

You nodded your head slowly. Your eyes were half closed. “That sounds good to me,” you said.

He managed a small smile. He’d been a nervous wreck when he heard you were in the infirmary with serious injuries. It was a relief just to talk to you. “Get some rest now, okay? We’ll be here,” he said.

“M’kay,” you agreed with a soft sigh. Your eyes were already closing again, heavy with exhaustion.

Garreth stroked the back of your hand as he carefully watched the bruises on your face fade. It was slow – barely noticeable as it happened – but after a few hours the dark, angry purple marks had shrunk with the remaining areas turned faded hues of yellow and green. He delicately brushed the hair back from your face. Your cuts were now thin lines of new flesh, pink and tender-looking. Garreth traced some of the lines on your arm carefully with his left index finger. His right hand continued to hold yours.

Curfew came before you roused again. Nurse Blainey came to dismiss the students still by your bedside. Poppy stood to leave, but Garreth requested to stay.

“I assure your she’s in capable hands, Mr. Weasley,” the mediwitch said. “I’m afraid visiting hours are over for today. You may come back when they begin tomorrow. After breakfast.”

He had skipped dinner, though he didn’t know how Nurse Blainey had known. The meal had just begun when he got the news of your injury.

Garreth trudged out alongside Poppy. “I’m glad she has someone who cares so deeply for her,” the mousy girl said as they left the hospital wing. “She’s my best friend – and only friend, really – and I want her to be happy.”

Garreth nodded with a pensive look on his face. “Thank you, Poppy,” he said. “I’m glad she’s got you to watch her back out there.”

She gave him a tight smile and a nod. She still felt responsible.

They parted once they left the faculty tower, heading to their separate common rooms. Garreth had a fitful night sleep before getting out of bed before the sun was up. He ate a rushed breakfast before returning to the hospital wing. You were sat up in the bed, eating your own breakfast from a tray set over your lap. You smiled when you saw him approaching.

“If it isn’t my favourite customer,” you said with a smirk.

Garreth rolled his eyes playfully. “How is it that was the only thing you got from my visit yesterday?” he asked.

You chuckled. “I was heavily medicated,” you replied with a shrug. You shifted to sit toward the left side of the bed, grimacing as you pulled your right leg over.

Garreth lunged forward to help when he saw your pained expression, but it was gone in an instant. You patted the newly open spot on the bed next to you. He carefully sat down, keeping an eye on your leg so he didn’t bump it.

“So, what else did you say when you came to visit?” you asked. “I have it on good authority it was quite cute.”

Garreth’s cheeks flushed. “Just, um, that I was very relieved you were okay and wouldn’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Yes, well, it would put a damper on our marriage if I was dead before it began,” you joked.

Garreth just gave you a shy smile.

You had known for a while how Garreth liked to tell people he was going to marry you one day. You thought it was funny and would join in on the joke from time to time. You took it as a compliment. He usually tied it to some praise of your skill, whether in combat, on a broom, or brewing potions. He had a flare for the dramatic, so you didn’t read too much into it. You’d heard him tell Leander he could kiss him when the taller boy had bought him a set of rare potion ingredients for his birthday.

Garreth was warm and affectionate, but he didn’t show signs that there was real weight to his jests. There were no intense stares or lingering touches like there were with a certain Slytherin. He was affectionate with you but not in an intimate way. He would give big bear hugs and would sometimes grab your wrist to drag you somewhere exciting. However, he never rested his hand on your lower back as he led you somewhere nor held your hand. Well, last night was an exception. You were fairly certain that when you had awoken last night, he had been holding your right hand, while Poppy had held your left.

Poppy. You two had become fast friends. She was the reason you wouldn’t entertain his affections even if you had thought them genuine. She had quite the crush on the kind-hearted ginger. She’d fallen for him shortly after you introduced them. She gushed about him constantly. You could never hurt her like it would if you started courting Garreth. She would be devastated.

“How are you feeling?” Garreth asked. His brow was furrowed with worry.

“As well as can be expected. The bastard took a nice chunk out of my calf,” you explained. “Human face but wicked sharp teeth, apparently.”

He looked at you with sad eyes. “Nurse Blainey said you’d recover fully. It that still true?”

You nodded. “Far as I know.”

“Good.” He bit his cheek as his hands fidgeted with the edge of the blanket. He put on a brave face before looking back at you. “And until you’re 100%, I’ll be by your side. Whatever you need.”

You couldn’t help but smile. He really was the sweetest boy you’d ever met. “I think I’ll be more than taken care of between you and Poppy,” you said fondly. “Speaking of, it’s cute that you two stayed with me together last night.”

Garreth gave you a puzzled look. “Cute?” he asked.

You gave a noncommittal shrug and forced your smile to broaden into a playful grin. “Yeah, I mean, I think it’s sweet. You two are just cute together.”

Garreth was really baffled now. Together? he thought. He and Poppy had hardly been ‘together.’ They sat on opposite sides of your bed, tending to you. Did you think he fancied Poppy? He was confused how you could. He thought he’d been rather obvious in his affections for you, while always trying to be respectful.

“Oh,” was all he managed to say.

You couldn’t tell if he didn’t like Poppy back or was just being shy about his feelings. So, you decided to probe a bit. “Have you ever thought about asking her out?” you said, attempting nonchalance.

“Erm, no. I can’t say I have,” he replied honestly. He swallowed a lump in his throat. He didn’t claim to know much about girls, but he was fairly certain they didn’t try to set up boys they fancied with their friends. “Do you…think I should?”

You blinked rapidly. You didn’t know what you thought. He and Poppy seemed a good fit. They were both so bubbly. You couldn’t imagine they’d be anything but happy together. But the imagine made you curiously sombre. “Well…” you started, unsure how you would finish the sentence.

Nurse Blainey pulled back the curtain. She scowled at Garreth sitting in your bed.

“Mr. Weasley,” she said sternly. “If you could step out, I need to examine my patient.”

He quickly did as told. Blainey changed your bandages on your leg, and he could tell two things from the stifled noises you made. The first was that you were in more pain than you let on. The second was that you were trying to hide it for his sake. That was only further confirmed when Blainey let him back in. You were smiling wide, but your knuckles blanched with how hard you were gripping the sheets.

“Has she had anything for pain today?” Garreth asked the mediwitch timidly.

“No, she’s refused the pain potion since she woke up,” Nurse Blainey replied.

He shot you a stern look. “She’s obviously in pain.”

She arched a brow at him. “She’s perfectly capable of requesting the potion herself.”

“I don’t like the potion. It makes me feel foggy,” you told him.

“So?” Garreth asked, a bit irritated by your stubbornness. “You’re recovering. And it’s Sunday. You should be resting, anyway.”

He looked to Blainey for support. “Are you in pain, dear?” she asked you kindly.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you replied genially, though you gave Garreth a hard glare.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “If you grit your teeth any harder, you’ll shatter them,” he argued. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I don’t want to sleep all day. I’d rather be able to hang out with you,” you said.

“Well, I don’t want to see you suffer!” he shot back, his voice cracking. He winced at his own volume.

“Mr. Weasley!” Nurse Blainey hissed. “I will not tolerate you yelling at my patient.”

“I’m sorry,” he said earnestly. He sank into the chair beside you, not wanting to draw further ire from Blainey by getting back in your bed. “Please, MC. I don’t like seeing you in pain. I’ll read to you or something while you rest.”

“You wouldn’t be bored?” you asked.

He rolled his eyes as a slight smirk came to his lips. “With you around? Never,” he replied.

“Could I maybe just do a half dose?” you said to Nurse Blainey. “My leg is starting to ache pretty badly.”

Garreth resisted the urge to insist you take a full dose. It was a start, at least.

The mediwitch nodded and fetched the potion.

“Thank you,” he murmured after you downed the liquid.

“Thank you,” you replied. “I should’ve taken it sooner. I was…being stubborn.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, you have a habit of that,” he teased.

You gave him a playful glare.

The sounds of hurried footsteps announced the arrival of a certain two Slytherins. “MC!” Sebastian said. “I just heard what happened. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” you assured him. “Blainey said I should make a full recovery.”

Garreth saw you wince as Sebastian wrapped you in a big hug. “Be careful!” the Gryffindor hissed.

Sebastian ignored him. He held your face in both of his hands when he pulled back. For a brief, terrifying moment, Garreth thought the Slytherin was about to kiss you. “No more taking on poachers alone,” the brunette ordered.

“I wasn’t alone,” you argued.

Sebastian side-eyed Garreth before looking back at you. “You still didn’t have proper help. You need to tell me when you’re going to do something dangerous,” he said, still holding your face. “Promise me.”

“Poppy is proper help,” you said defensively. “We’ve been fine every other time. Fought dozens of poachers. The manticore just caught us by surprise. I don’t need you to babysit me, Sebastian.”

Sebastian’s hands dropped to his sides. “You were with Poppy?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Well, I can still help keep you safe. Obviously these poachers are getting more dangerous animals,” he said. “Let me help you.”

“You can’t come running off with us every time. You’ve got Anne to think about. You should stay focused on helping her,” you argued.

Sebastian tensed. “Then stay and help me,” he asked.

You chewed your lip “I…I can’t just stop. Anne’s got you, but no one is stopping these poachers. Poppy and I are the only ones saving those creatures.”

Sebastian’s jaw clenched. “So, you care more about those beasts than Anne?” he growled.

“That’s not what I’m saying!” you insisted.

Sebastian scowled. “That seems like it’s exactly what you’re saying.” Without another word, he stormed out of the hospital wing.

“Sebastian!” Ominis called after him. He sighed when his friend didn’t stop. He rested a hand on your shoulder. “Feel better, MC.”

Ominis pressed a kiss to the top of your head before leaving, as well.

Garreth was seething until he saw the tears slipping down your cheeks and grief gripped him. “Hey,” he said gently, sliding into the bed next to you. He wrapped his arms around you in a gentle embrace. “He’s being an idiot. He’s probably just scared. I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”

You shook your head. “No, he did. He’s always getting upset with us about not doing more for Anne.” You sighed. “I mean, we’ve tried. I just…I don’t know what else to do.”

Garreth was shocked at the treatment from your supposed friend. He had half a mind to track the Slytherin down and try to shake some sense into him. But he knew it was better to stay with you, so he did. You leaned into him as the potion’s effects took hold and the drowsiness set in.

Garreth stayed with you the whole day. Poppy came by later that morning. Leander brought him lunch and a book to read to you. Natty and the other Gryffindors came to visit you in the afternoon. Even Imelda stopped by before dinner. Sebastian came back and apologized late in the evening. He seemed less than pleased to see Garreth cuddled up to you, but he didn’t comment on it.

Garreth helped rush visits along when you would start to get tired and drift off. Blainey was in and out of the curtained-off space throughout the day. She kicked Garreth out when she needed to do dressing changes. She didn’t say anything about Garreth sitting with you in your bed, though. Nor did she kick him out when you both fell asleep to him reading the book Leander had brought.

Blainey released you the next day. Garreth thought it was too soon, but you were eager to get out. He convinced the teachers to let him follow your schedule so he could carry your things for you.

“I could’ve levitated them,” you said.

“You shouldn’t exert your magic, either,” he argued. “Besides, I told you I’d be by your side until you’re all better.”

You blushed at the thought. You had always hoped to find a way to spend more time with him. This wasn’t exactly how you would have chosen to go about it, but you would take it.

To You

The manticore incident had brought you and Garreth closer than ever. Shortly after, Poppy told you she no longer had a crush on the outgoing Gryffindor. No longer holding yourself back, your own feelings for him bloomed. Frustratingly, you felt that you constantly got mixed signals from him. He still had a running joke where he would assert to others that he would marry you one day. However, he never asked you out. Though, on rare occasions, he did hold your hand – grabbing it to drag you off to see his newest brew or to comfort you when you were upset.

Unbeknownst to you, Garreth’s own feelings had grown similarly. He was head over heels for you. But he was scared. The stronger his feelings became, the more terrified he felt that you wouldn’t return them. Leander had to practically shake sense into him that he had better ask you out before someone else did. The taller boy even threatened to ask you out himself if Garreth didn’t soon. The threat almost started a brawl between the best friends until Leander explained that he wasn’t actually interested in you – just trying to motivate Garreth to get his head out of his arse.

So, Garreth came up with a plan. He went to Honeydukes on the next Hogsmeade trip, buying all your favourite sweets. He even added a bottle of his newly-perfected Fizzing Whizzbeer that you’d raved about after trying. He arranged it all in a decorative box and tied a nice ribbon around it.

He brought it to you at dinner. He hadn’t even sat down when he handed it over.

“Thank you,” you said, surprised and a bit confused as you took the present. You were elated, if a bit puzzled, when you saw the contents. “What’s all this for?”

Garreth cleared his throat. “Well, everyone knows we’re going to be married one day. And, mark my words, we will be,” he started. You rolled your eyes at his theatrics but couldn’t help smiling. Everyone else just nodded along, having heard his proclamation many times. Natty was the only one who looked shocked by the news.

“They are betrothed?” she whispered to Leander.

He rolled his eyes. “No, but it’s a long story,” he replied.

She just shrugged.

“So, I figured it was about time I started the formal process. I’d like to court you, MC, if you’ll have me,” Garreth said. He looked exceptionally nervous.

You set the box down on the bench before springing to your feet. You threw your arms around Garreth’s neck. “Of course!” you said.

“Really?” Garreth asked, dumbstruck.

“Definitely!” you assured him.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up as he spun around. “Brilliant! Will you go to dinner with me this Saturday?”

You beamed at him as your feet returned to solid ground. “That sounds lovely.”

Natty gave Leander a confused look. “I thought they started courting months ago,” she said.

“Yeah, you would think, wouldn’t you?” he replied with a chuckle.

To Your Dad

Garreth shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously. He checked his hair in the glass of the tavern window for the eight time. It wasn’t the first time he was meeting your father. They first met three years ago when Garreth visited you over the summer between fifth and sixth years. When the door to the establishment opened and he spotted the familiar broad shoulders and greying hair, Garreth immediately stood up.

“Garreth, my boy, good to see you,” your father greeted genially.

Garreth shook his hand. “You, as well, sir,” he said. “I’m glad you were able to meet today.”

“So, what brings you out to my neck of the woods?” your father asked as he took his seat.

Garreth could feel the heat rising in his collar, and your dad had to hold back a smile. He had strong suspicions on why the young man had reached out.

“Well, sir, I wanted to discuss some things with you about the future,” he said. “Of course, I asked you to join me for dinner. I don’t want to get too bogged down in the details on empty stomachs.”

“Oh, nonsense,” your father replied, waving him off. “Let’s hear these plans.”

“Right,” Garreth said, a bit shellshocked. “Well, sir, I’ve just finished my apprenticeship with J. Pippin. I took a job with a potioneering company in London, where I intend to stay until I’ve saved enough to start my own shop. I’ve just purchased a home in Marylebone, where I hope to settle down, you see.”

“London’s a far way from Plymouth,” your father interjected gravely, unable to help himself.

Garreth swallowed thickly. “It is,” he agreed. “Though, it’s within floo range.”

“Quite right,” your dad agreed with a slight smile. “Sorry to interrupt, lad. You were saying about settling down.”

“Your daughter and I have been discussing our plans. We’d quite like to settle down together. That is to say, we intend to marry–”

“Do you, now?” you father interjected again. His brow was arched.

Garreth nodded, steeling his nerves. “I haven’t proposed yet, of course,” he continued, and your father visibly relaxed. “But, like I said, we’ve discussed it, and I feel quite certain she would say yes. I wanted to meet today to ask for your blessing.”

Your father smiled. “Yes, I thought that might be the case,” he said. “My daughter, my only child, is quite an exceptional young woman, as you’re aware.”

“I am,” Garreth agreed as worry began to set in.

“Not just for her rare magic. She has many talents. And she’s quite driven.” He levelled Garreth with a rather frighteningly intense gaze. “I have very high standards for the man with whom she endeavours to spend her life.”

“Of course, sir,” Garreth said, trying not to feel crestfallen.

“I dare say she’ll need a man of equal ambition to keep up with her,” he said. “Though, he must still put his family first. I would never condemn her to a marriage with someone less than madly in love with her. And, indeed, I would do everything I could to prevent such an unfit union. I assure you, I am not an adversary to be taken lightly.”

Garreth had prepared himself for the possibility that your father would not give his blessing, but he had not foreseen him actively trying to prevent your marriage.

“I don’t think any man fully capable of deserving my daughter, though I am aware that I am biased on the matter,” your dad continued without giving Garreth a chance to speak. “However, I don’t think I could have hand-picked a better partner for her than she has chosen for herself.”

“I’m sure I can’t fault you for feeling that way, sir. I–” Garreth broke off as the meaning of the sternly spoken words sunk in. He gaped at your father briefly before collecting himself.

A grin broke out on the older man’s face. “I’d be honoured to have you in the family, son.”

Garreth stood, shaking your father’s hand again. He pulled his future son-in-law into a hug. “Thank you, sir. I know it’ll mean a lot to MC to have your blessing,” Garreth said.

Your dad clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Well, it means a lot to me that you care for her so deeply,” he replied. “You’re a good man, Garreth. Even if you were a bit of a scamp at school.” He winked.

Garreth’s cheeks flushed. “Yes, well, I’ve come to have a certain respect for the rules these days.”

Your dad chuckled. “That’s good to hear,” he said. “I got into my fair share of trouble at Hogwarts back in my day. And I know my daughter took after me.”

Garreth laughed. “She certainly has an adventurous spirit.”

Your dad shared some stories about the hijinks he’d gotten up to in school as they shared a meal. Garreth was glad he’d gotten the asking done before eating, as his stomach settled considerably. He couldn’t wait to tell you that your dad gave his blessing. More than that, he couldn’t wait to propose. But, most of all, he couldn’t wait to finally make you his wife like he swore he would years ago.

[cybsoo2]

a bleeding bruise (pt.2)

╰┈➤ synopsis — The aftermath of the 'accident' stirs up suffering in all of you. How will you handle the pain? How do these three survive with the shame? And what will be the outcome of your relationship?

╰┈➤ pairing — yandere!vminkook x reader

╰┈➤ word count — 3.2k

╰┈➤ content warning — yandere behavior, injury, past abuse, vomiting, they're such little liars, needles, angst

ੈ♡₊˚｡ back to ⇢ pt.1

The rush to the hospital is a blur of blood. Stained hands, soaked in sin, carry you out to the car. Clarlet carnage covers everything it touches; their skin, the midnight air, it even seeps into the seats. 

Jimin and Jungkook are frantic to force themselves into the backseat. They sit side by side with you laying limply over their laps. Your head is held in Jimin’s hands. He cradles you with care and caresses your soft skin. You’re turnt to face the front of the car in case you spit up any more scarlet. The cold air creeps into your lungs. It’s a comforting contrast compared to the fiery heat that incinerates your insides. 

Taehyung speeds down the streets, missing multiple turnoffs in his mindless panic. Every bump he hits along the road results in cruel curses and scolding from the boys in the backseat.

The night sky looks like an inked artwork. Blue stars bleeding out into the black; their loss of light mirroring your own. It rushes by in a restless haze. Blots of blood stain your vision. The starry sky keeps you company as you sink further into a fatal sleep. 

The first time you wake, you’re blinded by everything at once. The white-hot overhead lights burn your retinas. Their image lingering even as you screw your eyes shut. You blink back the burn and let your eyes scan over the unfamiliar room. White walls stare straight through you. An alcoholic taste burns at the back of your throat. A sterile smell makes you sick. All these unknown sensations swarm you at once. 

The heart monitor picks up the pace, sending sirens off in the two men’s minds. Jimin tightens his grip on the hand he was already holding. He squeezes three times and watches while you panic, feeling frozen from your unexpected awakening. Your eyes roll rampant in their sockets; overwhelmed with information and foreign feelings. Taehyung takes over, forcing your attention on him instead. He pushes back the sweaty strands of hair that stick to your forehead. Then he grabs your jaw in a gentle grasp, whispering words to calm the chaos.

“Shhh, sweetheart, go back to sleep.” He cradles your cheek in his hand, creating a makeshift pillow for you to lean into. “The doctor said you shouldn’t be awake so soon. Go back to sleep, we’ll still be right by your side when you wake up.”

Jimin pulls up the blankets to sit at your shoulders. He lays on the edge of the blue bed; head having sunken into the side of your pillow. His hair is sprawled out everywhere, tickling your neck when he attempts to crawl closer. He puts his hand over your face, slowly passing over you to shut your eyes.

You’re dragged back off to dreamland by their sweet songs. They sing lovesick lullabies that send you off to sleep in seconds. The last thing you spot is Jungkook walking into the room. His face is sunken with a certain type of sadness. A doctor lingers out in the hall, clipboard and consoling frown falling off his face. 

The second time you wake is much more tranquil than the first. This time, the lights are dimmed to drench the room in darkness. The steady beat of your heart monitor gives you something to focus on. The air lingers with the lasting scent of Taehyung’s cologne. You lift your head up from the pillow, trying to pull yourself up to look around. Two sets of hands push you back down.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t rush. You’ll end up straining yourself.” Jungkook stares at you while he speaks. A pitiful smile pulls at his lips. Trying to act as if the isolating room isn’t alive with pain and panic. “How you feeling?”

“Are you hurting at all? Do you need a doctor? Never mind, I’ll get one anyways.” Jimin’s words are tangled with terror. He tries not to show it on his face, but his words are weak and erratic. Before he can get up to go grab a doctor, you tighten your hold on his hand, keeping him sat in his seat.

“No, I’m okay. Just a bit sore.” The words claw themselves up your throat in a croaking tone. You swallow against the dryness and wince with discomfort. 

With the help of Jungkook, you sit up to take in more of your surroundings. All three of them sit in front of you. Jimin sitting at your side, Jungkook standing with your hands still interlocked, and Taehyung laying down at the foot of the bed. All of them watch with worry, waiting for what you’ll say next.

“What happened?” It’s a simple start, and you can already assume the answer, but the suffocating silence pushes you to speak.

Taehyung tries to speak his thoughts, but he ends up sputtering like a fish out of water. Jimin takes a look at Tae and tries not to tear up. Sick memories massacre his mind. His nose twitches as stray tears swim in his eyes. He attempts to hide his emotion, turning away from your questioning eyes.

Jungkook jumps in when it’s obvious the silence has been strung out for too long. “You just got out of surgery and the doctors said it was internal bleeding.” He skirts around the obvious accident that caused it. “They also said you’ll be in here for a couple days at the least. Just so they can keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t tear open your stitches.”  His line of vision lingers on your stomach. 

You follow his lead and look down. Although, you can’t see the damage stuffed under your scratchy hospital gown, you can still feel the strike of pain. White bandages that wrap around you like rope and silver stitches pulling at your sickly skin. Thoughts of the damage hiding in the dark bring a grimace onto your face. Your injuries are all stashed away on the inside. Your only though is that you feel worse than you look.

“Was it that bad?” You turn your eyes up to stare at Jungkook.

He hesitates for a solid second. Your words have whispers of a deeper, more dreadful meaning. His head twists your words into a torturous truth. Because you aren’t really asking about the accident. You may have asked him ‘Was it that bad?’, but all he can hear is ‘Are you that bad?’ He hurt you so horribly that it almost invoked the dawn of death. This torturous truth is too much for him to handle, too much for any of them, including you… so he lies.

“It’s nothing to worry about. We’ll take care of you, like we always do.” Jungkook speaks his sweet lies with a sorrowful smile. Everyone else mimics the same miserable grin. You listen to his white lies, but this time you’ll try to trust them. 

You eat a somber dinner of things that are barely solid. A simple soup, soggy bun, and jello that’s supposed to serve as a delicious dessert. You poke at it with your fork, watching as the red blob bounces around. Taehyung nudges your shoulder, silently telling you to stop. You can feel his watchful stare straight through your skull, actually, you can feel all their eyes at once. Their anxious eyes only settle when you start picking away at your plate. The food tastes like poison as it passes through your throat. Your appetite has slipped away from you ever since the surgery. But, with the boys acting all antsy and irritated at everything that hurts your health, you force down the food in order to ease their anxiety. 

Each man nurses their own coffee in their hands. Taehyung watches the hot liquid swirl around in his cup. He’s reckless with the way he handles it, anxiety jumping at the slightest sound and spilling the drink down his hands. Red and angry marks wrap around his arms. Blisters burned deep into his skin; yet he doesn’t seem to acknowledge the pain. He keeps his attention towards you. Trying to be subtle, stealing glances at you every so often. Watching for any discomfort, making sure you eat at least half your food, and studying the bittersweet sadness staining your face. 

Jimin downs his 4th drink before you’ve finished your food. You make a mixture of your meal, poking and prodding at it. Sometimes Jimin has to hold himself back from force feeding you. Stress stretches him apart, tearing at his mind, his lungs, and his heart. He hates seeing you so pale and so sad. So he helps out with hidden motives. He takes bits and pieces off your plate, eating small bites before holding the rest up to your mouth. He doesn’t let you shrug off his advances, so you end up eating more than you’d like.

Jungkook stirs up his coffee into something sweet. 6 packets of sugar and sweetener sink into the bitter blackness. He adds cream to his concoction and stirs until the sour taste dies down. 

You stop eating when everything is half of what it once was. Not too sure how much more your stomach can handle. You push away your plate, trying to pass it over to Taehyung to get rid of. 

“Just take one more bite.” He tries to encourage you, pushing the plate back into your arms. He takes a scoop of the jello with your spoon, the easiest to eat, and holds it in front of your mouth. 

“I don’t think I can.” You look down at the plate, feeling intimidated by such a simple task.

“Just one more.” Taehyung stares straight into your eyes. His insistent nature has become normal for you. Normal enough to know that he won’t take ‘No’ for an answer.

You let out a soft sigh and take the spoon in your mouth. It's a difficult task to force the food down your throat. The texture and taste turns your stomach. As soon as you swallow it down, you know you never should have. Regret almost comes rushing out as you struggle to stand and run to the bathroom. The boys fall behind, faces clouded in confusion. 

Your knees hit the floor with a heavy fall. Fragile form collapsing under the weight of your weakness. You hug the toilet seat tight to your body and hang your head over the inside. Within seconds everything you ate is spilling out of you. The sight of scarlet jello mimics blood from the present past. 

A crash is heard out in the other room. Taehyung comes in, colliding with the door and dropping down to his knees. He acts out of adrenaline, gathering your hair in one hand and resting the other on your back. He rubs soothing circles into your skin, whispering words of encouragement.

“It’s alright. Just let it out.” He locks eyes with Jimin as he enters the room. He sits down at your side, pressing a peck against your temple. He hushes your cries and keeps trying to tame the trembles that rack your body. 

Jungkook gets a glimpse at the sorry sight and is immediately scrambling out of the room and screaming for a nurse. Head spinning with imprinted images of your red and raw lips. A bloody tint that throws his mind back to before.

Even after you’re sure you’ve thrown it all up, you gag on the metallic taste that lingers in your mouth. A rotten taste that tangles with your raspy cry and tints your teeth. 

There are tears streaming down your face. Throwing up everything you just ate has left you feeling empty and aching. Jimin and Taehyung still stroke soothing motions down your back. Jimin pries your hand away from where it grabs the porcelain bowl in a death grip. He intertwines his hand with yours and lets you squeeze it wherever another sense of nausea rolls around. 

Two nurses come running into the room. Unfamiliar faces set the two boys on edge. Jimin clutches your hand closer to his heart. Taehyung shifts his body in front of you, trying to keep you out of sight.  Jungkook is the one to push them both out of the way so they can help you, but he never strays far, always hovering with a possessive stance and protective eyes. 

The two nurses appear anxious in the presence of such intimidating stares. They’re hands sweat and shake as they offer up more painkillers and check to see if your stitches have torn. And when the nurses have nothing more to help you with, they’re fast to flee the room.

You’re settled in bed once again. You find yourself falling asleep as an IV drip digs deep into your arm and the painkillers put a heavy haze in your head. 

Jimin squeezes in at the side of your bed, Taehyung crawls in close, and Jungkook holds your hand. They cradle you close. You’re smothered to sleep by careless kisses and whispered wishes. You’re sent off to slumber chasing a delicate dream of a different life. 

The rest of your stay at the hospital looks relatively the same. You’re smothered with affection in the form of sweet sorrys. The three men do everything they can to make up for the incident, everything but actually acknowledge it. No one speaks a word of that night. Nothing goes past a simple sorry when alluding to it. Instead, they’re eager to show their remorse through action and affection.

Jimin hasn’t left your side since the surgery. He lays beside you in the bed, having squeezed in during the dark silence of your dreams. You wake every morning only to end up caged in his iron grip. 

Sometimes he sits in the steel chair at your side. Cast aside whenever Taehyung or Jungkook has decided he’s pestered you enough. He never backs down without an argument. But one look at your exhausted expression and his angry words begin to die down. He taps the metallic chair in time with the clock. The tuneful ticking and copious amounts of coffee are how he distracts himself from drifting off into a dream. In all honesty, he’s been scared to sink back to sleep. The last time he found himself falling asleep, he woke to you bleeding out on the bathroom tile. 

Taehyung takes most authority when it comes to distracting you from your discomfort. He turns your attention to the shows playing upon the TV. He gives you his portions of pudding at meal time. And drowns out any signs of discomfort with his tender touch. 

Jungkook is the only one who acts the most distant. A simple side effect of taking on the brute end of your beating. His shame feels like the same shackles used to hold you down. A cold chaos harrows at his heart. He feels the bitter burden of his wrongdoings with every breath he breathes. He turns over his thoughts in the silence, and sorts through his sinful emotions while you sleep. He refrains from talking too much. Only chiming in on conversations when it includes your health or happiness. 

He listens to the doctors lecture him on how to take care of you, sinking further into his shell with every sentence because he’s only done the opposite thus far. He watches while the nurses talk him through how to re-wrap your bandages when needed. He struggles to keep his hands to himself. Biting back his tongue whenever they touch your blooming bruises and you flinch. The nurses nurturing hands roam your body with innocent intentions. Applying balm to your bruises and wrapping you up in white. But when your eyes twinkle with tears unshed, the three men shout and shut them out of the room without any rebuttal. 

They take matters into their own hands, knowing their tender touches are still too tense. You shed some tears and take your lips between your teeth, trying to hide the pain that’s more prominent than before. 

They take matters into their own hands, knowing they’re worse for you than anyone else. But they’re blinded by love and can’t let their butterfly fly away. 

The day you’re told you’ll finally be discharged is one you’ve all been looking forward to. They carry you out to the car once again, this time with much less gore and guilt. The scenery blurs by from where you watch out the window. The spring season seems to melt together with the high speeds Jungkook is driving. 

They’ve all been acting more restless and rash as the days go on. Impatient and eager to keep you hidden in their home. Protected from prying eyes and devils in disguise. Naive to the fact that they themselves are the real mask-wearing monsters. 

The rest of the drive drones on. Each building that passes more boring than the last. Instead, you fix your focus on the three men that surround you. Taehyung wouldn’t take no for an answer when he insisted you sit on his lap. So now you rest against his chest with his arms wrapped around your waist. His fingers skim across your stomach, soothing away the sickness that still remains. He does anything to avoid the white wraps that stick to your stitches. A pang of pain hits him in the heart every time he’s reminded of that night time nightmare. He walks his fingers across your waist, trying to kill time and relax his restless nature. Sometimes his hands stray away from your stomach and shove Jimin instead. 

In his sleeping state atop your legs, he tries to catch up on the sleep he’s missed before you get back home. Too hysterical in the hospital and too obsessed over your well-being, he developed a sort of insomnia. However, this tiny sliver of sleep he finally gets is full of disturbances. As his dreams drift into a tortured terrain, his body begins to tremble in terror. Shifting in his sleep and almost smacking his arm into your stomach if Taehyung wasn’t there to pull him away. 

During the rest of your drive, each man continues to fight their angry and anxious feelings. When you arrive at your house, nothing much has changed. They cling onto you like a second skin and still struggle with their self-loathing. 

Yet their sorry words and tear-stained eyes will never be enough. Not when they know you both are bound to destroy each other. Not when this cycle of crimson chaos will continue till the end. 

Even when they love you the most, stricken with guilt and grief, willing to do anything you ask, their lovesick obsession only serves to make matters worse. They hold you too tight, kiss you too rough. Their love is slowly sending you to an early grave. Yet you chose to be ignorant to their insanity. Developing tunnel vision to their love and ignoring all else.  And when you slip up again, when they snap again - you’ll pretend it never happened. Harbouring hope in a broken heart. Trying to be someone you aren’t in order to survive. Their love is like poison and their hate is like hell. Staying alive with three lovesick psychos, all you can rely on is hope.

© cybsoo2 2024, all rights reserved

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Always have but never hold

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n and I welcome you to a part five. Five? I genuinely wasn't expecting this to turn into a series but look at us. Love this story to bits. But it wouldn't be here without all of you so thank you and enjoy!✨🤍

warning: shouting, swearing, fighting, mental health issues, panic attacks, past trauma.

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That day, Carmen had waited for you to show up, and the restaurant was decked out. Well, deked out in that shit hold meant a clean tablecloth, a couple of candles that he had found in the basement, and a nice warm meal he had made—the one you loved the most, the one that always, without fail, brought a smile to your face. Because right next to the fear of failing Mikey was the fear of failing you. He knew that he hadn't been himself. There was so much in his head that, at times, Carmy felt that there was someone there talking back at him. But then you would show up—or not even that. When the images from the past were crushing him, all Carmy needed was to see you. That was all, and suddenly he could breathe again. No one was screaming around him or at him.

"You're jittering like a little bitch", Richie had stepped out for a smoke when he found Carmen nearly bouncing like an atom from side to side in the back alley, as if he was trying to create friction for an explanation. The kid was a mess. Always a mess. But then he would go home or you would show up, and it's like a reset button would be pressed. "Fuck off", Carmen hissed at him, pulling out his phone for what felt like a million times and quickly glancing down the street. "What's going on, Carm?" Richie's voice was almost soothing. As if he had given up on the shit he usually did. As if he felt that this might be lethal. Might change something. Might lead to some absolute chaos.

Carmy let out a frustrated sigh, "She's not here... Should have been here thirty minutes ago... She... she should", running his hand through his hair in hopes of pushing the messy curls away from his face, Carmen pressed the call ID once more. "Your girl?", Richie asked, and Carmen just nodded. Cursing once the line went dead. His hand ran over his chest. You'd always tell him to take a deep breath and then exhale in three. A shiver ran down his back as he could almost just make out your voice telling him that.

Richie's video pierced the silence, "Has she been okay?", had Carmen always wanted to punch Richie, or was this a sensation that only bloomed now? Was he trying to tell Carmy that he had missed something? That he missed something, but Richie didn't. "No, she has not fucked been okay, okay?", Carmen spat, moving to walk again, shaking his hands as the light needles started to pinch the very tips. "She's been upset; she wakes up screaming; she pukes most nights; she...", he blurred you. And now all he could see was you. You all pale by the toilet. You holding back tears. You pushing him away only to hold onto him so tight that Carmy could barely breathe. The spark that Carmen loved so much within you was fading. You weren't you, and he just let that be. Let you self-sabotage.

"One day", you had told him the first time you had woken up screaming, drenched in sweat, "I'll tell you, just not now". And what ripped at Carmy the most was that those dreams had stopped. Not immediately, but they did, and you slept through the night perfectly. And you had told him that it was because he was there holding you. Because you felt safe. Carmy made someone feel safe, and now... you didn't? You were screaming again.

"Fuck", Carmen barked, kicking the trash can, clenching his first up so that he wouldn't yank it over. "I called her", and Carmy almost missed that because Richie's voice was barely a whisper. "What?", Carmen turned to him, stepping closer. Richie throws his cigarette to the ground. "That night after the... when she cut her hand... I just", the man admitted, and for the first time, Carmy was seeing emotions that he hadn't seen before in his face. "Richie, what the fuck are you talking about?", Carmy said, still confused, "I called her because I..", Richie stopped, running his hand over his mouth, "I called her a burden from New York and told some pretty shit...", "You fucking what?", now Carmy was all up in Richie's face, and the sheer anger in his blue eyes...

"I called to apologize, cousin", "Have you been giving her shit this whole time?", Carmen was a step away from ripping at Richie's shirt. Because fuck, does it all make sense now? "Carmy", Richie pleaded, "Have you been giving her shit, you son of a bitch?", now his fingers were gripping the material of the beef shirt, wanking at it and ripping the fabric apart. Shouting shit. Carmen didn't even understand himself until his knuckles came in contact with the cold wall, and he realized he had missed Richie's face.

Carmen was calling your phone over and over again as he made his way back. He ignored the street signs and the red stop lights. They could all fuck themselves. You were going to be there. You were. You didn't make it to the restaurant because you got lost in unpacking. Yeah, that's what it was. And you... And he was going to apologize. Crowl to you if he had to. How did he manage to miss Richie giving you shit and eating at you? Carmy left his car half on the street as he ran towards the door. Skipping every other step as he rushed to your floor. Heart beat faster and faster with every step as the number of doors changed.

Carmen wasn't sure what he was truly expecting, but it sure wasn't to see Claire sitting in the living room, flipping through some of your art books. Carmen had to blink a couple of times because this couldn't be true, right? She smiled at him the moment her eyes landed on Carmen, but he only looked at her as if she was a dead body walking. "What... why are you here?", Carmen stuttered, shaking his head as Claire stepped closer to him. "I wanted to surprise you. You didn't answer any of my calls and..."

But he doesn't even let her finish as he turns away from her shouting, "Y/N, Y/N!" Carmen yanked the bedroom door open, nearly tripping over one of his shoes that was thrown across the room. It was a mess. The drawer that held your day-to-day clothes was empty. The hoodie—his hoodie—that you had worn when Carmy left a couple of hours ago was thrown to the floor carelessly. "Fuck no, Y/N!", Carmen rushed to the bathroom, but there was nothing there. A messy sink opened up cabinets.

"What did you say? What did you say?", he turned back around because he could feel Claire following him all of this time. "Carmen, she moved out. Didn't you know?", she said in such a soft voice that made Carmen want to vomit. "Moved... What? What? No...", his brain felt like it was overheating. You can't be moving out. No, you wouldn't. You...

"Your roommate", Claire said, and Carmy had lost the last piece of coolness he had. "What fucking roommate, Claire?", he barked out, making the woman step back slightly. "What roommate? That was my fucking girlfriend", he spat out. Claire looked at him with big eyes. Eyes that were almost glistening with tears but that didn't pull a single string in Carmy's heart. His world was crumbling there and then. Right at this moment. It was slipping through his fingers.

"I'll love you forever", Carmy had whispered one night. You were pressed against his naked chest, running your fingers over his tattoos. You hadn't been talking for some time. The comforting silence was more than enough. Your naked frame was so close to his that it felt like you were seeping into his skin, and Carmy never wanted that feeling to fade. "You don't believe in forevers", you muttered, pressing a light kiss to his chest before your eyes met his, and Carmen needed to do a double inhale because the share beauty of you was so raw, so real, so here, so his, and so unimaginably gorgeous, right here in his arms. He had managed to find you. Someone who understood. Someone who was okay with his shit. Someone who saw him whole and didn't turn away. Someone willing to embrace him even with all the trauma and scars that were still hurting. "I believe in a forever with you", Carmy had whispered, and the way your eyes had sparked. Carmy had never seen eyes shine so brightly before, and he had ignited them. He only hoped that you saw the way you were healing him too.

"Fuck", Carmen said, nearly collapsing to the floor when the ringing sound faded, and he could hear something on the other end. "Thank you, thank you; Where are you?", he muttered, starting to pace once again. But there was no answer. Carmy pulled the phone away from his ear, watching the seconds running on his screen. You had answered; he wasn't imagining it. "Y/N, baby, where are you?", Carmy begged. He had no right to; he knew that, but he still did.

"The other girlfriend didn't pick up her phone this time?", you asked so bitterly that the blood in Carmy's body had frozen as he fell silent. "There's no other...", Carmy barely whispered, and you let out a bitter laugh while still sniffing. "She walked into our home, Carmen, OUR home! Shinning like a fucking Christmas tree", the words felt like venom. Stinging. Poisonous. Raw. Your breathing was uneven.

"I'm not...", he rasped out once more, not sure how or what to say when someone honked in the background of your call, "Are you fucking driving? Get out of the car! Stop the car", he raised his voice instantly. You were going to die. Crash the car. Drive into someone. Not stop in time. Like Mikey, you were going to rip the last good thing out of him and leave him alone in this shity world. But it's like you weren't even listening to him. "I saw the messages", a cry left your lips, "You fucking shit". Carmen fell numb at that. His eyes raised to meet a lost-looking Claire, who was still there, standing a handful of steps away from him.

"How long, huh? Was I not good enough?", your voice pierced Carmy's mind. Now. Only now did he realize how this looked. What he's been doing What he's been putting you through because he was selfish. A selfie piece of shit because he was holding onto something. Like a kid too scared to give up a pacifier. "Speak, you fucking ass, own up to it", you said in a loud voice. He could feel your pain now. Almos heard every single tear that was slipping down your cheeks. "She's the only good fucking thing from my past, okay? My family—all of them loved her; she—everyone wanted her. She made me feel stable like it's... but... but I'm not", Carmen didn't get to finish his words as the most painful sob rang out. Somehow even more painful than the night he held you in the bathroom. Just that night, he didn't know what had caused it; now it was him. All of this was on him.

"Fuck you, Camen, fuck you", you crocked out. "No, listen, let me..." he pleaded, but you were having none of it. "Be happy with her then. Fucking thrive!", you spat with an angry rasp, yelling at someone for cutting in front of you, leaving Carmy to cringe at the thought of you crashing the car once more. "No, listen, you're not listening", he tried much softer now. He wasn't sure what to do. How was he going to find you? Should he go to his car? Drive around? Make a false call to the police? What the fuck was he supposed to do?

"No, you fucking listen! I gave you everything. I gave up everything for you fucking...", another sob slipped past your lisp, and Carmen could hear the car speeding up with every word you said, "I did everything for you, and you do this after everything? You have no heart, you asshole!". Carmen felt tears slipping down his cheeks; his throat was tight, and his chest heavy. But he was fighting every single thought that was telling him this was it. He couldn't. He didn't know how to function without you. You were the thing holding him together. He couldn't...

"I love you; come back, yeah? We will figure this out", he pleaded again, gripping the phone so tightly in his hand and ripping at the roots of his hair with the other. The silence fell for a moment. For a moment, a flicker of hope ignited. You heard him, yeah. You will be back soon. Carmen will explain it all. He will make it better. He will save this. He will get you back. You will be there, and his heart won't explode. "Fuck you! Now you can get rid of your New York burden forever", the words washed over him like a wave. Like a wave, you weren't expecting to crash over you. Like something had wrapped itself around your leg and yanked you under. "No, Y/N, no, hey", Carmen said, but the line went dead. The beeping filled his ears. And for a second, Carmen thought that was the monitor telling him, well, pal, your heart just stopped. You've died. In approximately less than a minute, your body won't have enough oxygen. Your brain will die, and you will be gone.

With shaky hands, Carmy dialed your number again and again and again and again, and it went straight to your voicemail. "No, fuck", he tried once more, hoping and praying to whatever god he believed in. You couldn't walk away. He needed you. He couldn't do this without you. "Pick up, pick the fucking...Fuck", Carmen yelled, throwing the phone at the wall. Screaming at the top of his lungs as he watches the light pieces scattered across the floor.

"Carmy", his name, made him want to vomit as he turned his head to the side. "Get the fuck out", he roared, pointing his finger to the door. "Carmen, baby", Claire pleaded, daring to step closer but regretting that decision straight away when Carmy's hands gripped her upper arm painfully tight. "Im not your fucking baby!", he roared, making her shiver. He wasn't seen clearly. He wasn't seeing at all. Solid colors only. The drumming in his ears was so painful that he wanted to rip his head open and make it stop. "Carm", Claire pleaded, trying to touch his cheek, but he stopped her palm midway before shoving her close to the door. "Get the fuck out, or I throw you out the window".

Carmen doesn't remember when or how she left. The static in the room was driving him insane. He walked aimlessly around the apartment. He choked for air. He shouted your name. He shouted for help. Clawing with his fingers at his throat because he couldn't... there was no air. Nothing. He hit his head a couple of times with his hands, aimlessly turning around and searching. Searching for you. But you weren't here. You will not be here. Never will be here. He wasn't sure how long he trashed the place, throwing things around.

Carmy only remembered popping two pills in his mouth. He remembered digging through the drawers. Looking for any piece of clothing that belonged to you. He remembered crawling into bed still fully clothed, shoes on, jacket on. Pressing your shirt closer to his chest, breathing in the scent of you. Shutting his eyes as tightly as possible, trying to imagine you here. You're just in the bathroom. You will come back soon. You will lie beside him. You will go back to bed. He could sleep now. He would not be alone. He was alone.

"Look at me", he gripped your chin firmly, "Say it again and fucking mean it". You were trembling. Jittering to get away. To push back, but that only earned you a firmer grip. "I'm no one. Will never be enough", you whispered, trying to hold onto his wrist so he wouldn't shatter your neck. "And?", he shook your whole body with the yank of his hand. There were going to be bruises tomorrow. "And I should be thankful that you are here with me and that you spare me your time", you muttered, a sickly smirk spreading across his face. "Exactly, you worthless piece of shit."

Your body jerked up only to be met by the firm press of someone's palm pushing into your chest, making you let out a scream in return. A scream that was met with touche down your back and a feeling of a warm embrace. A calm heartbeat. Steady. Familiar. You felt stuffy and warm. Sticky from the sweat your shirt was soaked in. Clinging to your body. Feeling like the hands that gripped you in your sleep. You quickly moved to pull at it, trying to free yourself from that dirty feeling. To let your body be free. Scratch that uncomfortable, sick feeling. You dropped the damp material away, clenching your fingers at the still-lingering sweat there that you wanted off.

Then you remembered the feeling of someone's hands that still lingered, jerking away and nearly falling from the bed. Only to be met with the same arms holding onto you. And you let them guide you into that same warmth. Your damp skin presses against the soft skin. "You're in Copenhagen, not London", the voice said. That deep, calm, soothing voice rang in your ear, and your fingers instantly curled around the biceps. Before moving to graze his side, holding, savoring, and grounding, "I've got you, bunny".

The air was much crisper here. Mornings so much calmer. No one cursed in the streets. No one shouted. Everyone, even the people you didn't know, greeted you with a quick hello as they passed you with their bikes. Your mind was as scrambled, if not more so, as the day you came here. How you managed to find, sit, and navigate your way here was beyond you. Because you weren't here. Mentally, you felt dead. Drained to the point where you cried for the first 48 hours here. Then sleep for approximately the same time. Nothing made sense anymore. The gaping, black, bleeding hole in your chest ached without any signs of stopping anytime soon.

"Hi", you muttered, stepping into the much warmer building and enveloping in the smells that made your stomach growl. The guy in front of you smiled, "At the back, you know it", he pointed towards the back room. "Thank you, Chris", you smiled at him softly, tugging at your scarf as you walked past the front desk. The kitchen was silent. Someone was humming, and you could hear a light tune of music coming from someone's headphones.

The blue eyes caught your gaze almost immediately. Dropping a piece of dough onto the table before whipping his hand on his apron. "Finish up in here, chefs. I'll be back in a few", his voice was firm. But so much calmer. Straight. Strong but calm. Maybe it was his self-esteem that made every sound that came out of his mouth undeniably soothing.

"Hey, bunny", Luca said, his hands wrapped around you, with you two still standing in the middle of the kitchen. You buried your face in his chest. Breathing in his cologne. "Hi, do you have a minute?", you tilted your head up at him. Sometimes you forgot the height difference between the two of you. The way he towed over you. If you wanted to reach his shoulders, you would have to stand on your tippy toes. It's hard to imagine that, at some point, you used to be higher than him. Until puberty hit and the roles were reversed. "For you always", he said with a light kiss on your forehead as he guided you out the back.

That's what it was. Luca was the polar opposite of Carmen. Where Carmen's anxiety only edged you, Luca was a wall of steel, calm, and inner peace. Making a perfect shelter for your anxiety and fears. "Did you manage to sleep at all after I left?", Luca asked, handing you a freshly baked rabarberhorn that you didn't even notice him picking up as you walked out. Tears welled in your eyes as you held on to the still-warm baked good.

"Hey, what's this all about, huh?", Luca tilted your head up softly at the sight of the tears, pulling the little outdoor chair you had sat on closer to him. "You're too fucking good to me", you muttered, watching his strong gaze. Luca let out a sigh, leaning closer to you, "I promised to always be there, didn't I?", "You could just walk away and trick me and...", his palm cupped your cheek. "We went over this many times. I'm not them, and you're worth it," he said as you leaned in and pressed your forehead against his. Letting the fog in your brain ease up slowly. Luca ordered you to eat up shortly, muttering something about how he added extra rhubarb and marzipan just for you and that you shouldn't tell anyone about that because he might get a line of unhappy customers.

Luca lit up a cigarette, offering it to you after a couple of drags. "Did he call?", the question stiffened your bones, but you knew that, in a way, you still owed him a full story of what happened. I mean, you just showed up at his house, snot running down your nose, eyes as red as if you were smoking weed for the past week." Called, texted, left voicemails, sent an email, even", you let a warm inhaler ripple through your system. Welcoming the sensation before puffing out a cloud of smoke. "I didn't reply to any of it", you chuckled lightly, "yet I tell myself that I don't care, but I... I stop and shiver constantly at the thought of something happening to him. I would be the one to blame if he..."

Luka shook his head, taking the cigarette from your fingers. "A, it's good that you haven't, and B, you wouldn't be". You wanted to argue back, but the look in Luca's eyes was clear enough. He wouldn't back away until you agreed, so you dropped it. "Well, if not that, then I feel guilty for leaving Sydney and Marcus there; I care about them", you picked at the side of the pastry, not lifting your gaze up. "Don't write me off as a dick, bunny but..,", Luca muttered, "You care about them, Carmy included, but who cares about you?"

You wanted to argue about that, but you stopped mid-sentence. There was truth in his voice. Those people were mostly strangers. You weren't meeting up with them. You didn't even have their number, now that you thought about it. Chicago was a ghost town for you. Unfamiliar and cold. They all probably haven't even noticed that you were gone. Was Carmy with Claire now? Maybe she moved in... but in a week?

You stood up quickly, dropping the rabarberhorn on your chair as you motioned for Luca to push his chair further away before you set on his lap, hiding your tears in the crook of his neck. You felt him shaking his head, but he held back on the words that were lingering at the tip of his tongue. Luca's fingers quickly brushed through your hair as he held you close. Just like he had been for the past week.

"Did you tell him about Ezra?", now this question tore through your body as if someone had come up and started skinning you there and then. You knew that Luca was smart. You know that from what you told him, he was putting the dots together. You shook your head just as another wave of tears rolled down your cheeks, and you clenched Luca's blue shirt between your fingers. "Why, bun? That's some serious shit you...", but you cut him off midway, "Because Carmen was staring to remind me of him".

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Taglist: @nishinoyahhh @thewulf @shewasthelimit @chatitajens @azxulaa @hidingfromtex @randomhoex @hopplessdreamer @lostinheavensworld @jackierose902109 @gallaghrh @gabbycoady13 @harrysmatcha @lady-bellyn @lovejoyenjoyer @infinitelycharmed23 @royalestrellas @hanula18 @thoughtfulmoonchild911 @buckys-winter-child there's so many of you here now, my little heart is so happy 🥺🥺🥺

[xcherricutie]

🥀 other friends 🥀

[Lucifer Morningstar x Reader]

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four]

[Word Count - 2.5k]

[Tags: Angst, songfic, canon typical violence]

[Notes: This was a bit more difficult to write than drift away, action scenes aren't really my forte. Also, there are mentions of Adam becoming a demon, its a bit of setup for a potential one shot relating to this series soon. I think it'd be fun to do a little series of Steven Universe song one shots within the canon these one shots have set up. Not promising anything, but it would be fun to try]

“The Hazbin Hotel is now officially open! Come stay with us for a chance to have your soul redeemed, and earn your place in Heaven!” 

The video flickered ever so slightly, the television displaying the image of Charlie Morningstar, princess of Hell, for both angels and demons alike to see. As the video played, Charlie giving more details about her hotel, a trio of angels looked on, the seraphims keeping their eyes glued on the ancient angel before them. You. 

Upon finding your near lifeless body standing in the abandoned Garden of Eden, Sera and Emily quickly took you into their care. You could hardly pay them any mind since Sera had told you of Lucifer’s fate, of the curse he had put on himself. He had become the Devil, the sin of pride. He had cheated on you and left you for Lilith, who he soon had a child with. The girl on the screen before you happened to be said child. The very personification of Lucifer’s betrayal. 

Your blood boiled at the sight. You had demanded information from Sera, someone you had once considered a friend. You knew she was innocent in all of this, but you could not help your anger at the fact that not only had she let Charlie into Heaven, but was working with her to redeem the sinners that Lucifer had been the cause of in the first place. He was the reason sin and chaos existed in humanity in the first place. You were mad that things had spiraled to this point, you were mad that this was apparently how the story ended. 

No. You wouldn’t have it this way. If you had known just how good Lucifer was having it now after what he did to you, you would have rather stayed ignorant of everything. Perhaps even rather let the garden claim your body, than be here, in this horrible reality. But you were here, and now, you were going to change the ending of this story. You intended to have your happy ending, at any price. 

A soft hum filled the long, glowing halls of the Hazbin Hotel, the sounds of shoes tapping with each step accompanying the hum. With a twirl of his staff, and an adjustment of his top hat, the man entered the grand entrance hall of the lobby, where everyone, including his daughter, waited. His heels clicking as he came to a stop, Lucifer stood atop the steps, looking down at everyone with a smile, his daughter catching his attention right away. 

“Dad! There you are!” Charlie exclaimed, running up the steps. Lucifer raised a brow in confusion, meeting her halfway as he walked down the steps. 

“Charlie? What’s the matter?” Lucifer asked, curious. Surely, their newest resident hadn’t already started causing trouble, right? Lucifer knew the man would be uncomfortable here, but surely Adam wasn’t jumping straight into causing chaos, hopefully. 

Charlie grabbed her father by the wrist, dragging him down the stairs, towards the small crowd of people standing in the doorway. Lucifer immediately noted the uncomfortable, even downright fearful look in their faces, even Adam seemingly upset, or at the very least, startled. His attention was whipped to whatever had caused their discomfort, his eyes widening at the sight. 

“Tears in the sky are appearing all over, and they’re clearly from Heaven,” Charlie spoke, pointing up at the rip that had begun to appear over the hotel, the golden outline of the tear drawing attention. More rips and tears dotted the skies of Hell, all across the pride ring. A soft, white light shone from inside, though nothing else seemed to come through. 

“I thought Heaven agreed to back off, I-I don’t understand,” Charlie grabbed her hair by the roots, pulling tightly. She felt the calming hand of her girlfriend, Vaggie, on her shoulder, but it did little to soothe her anxiety. 

Vaggie huffed, glaring up at the sky, clenching her angelic spear tightly in her other hand. “Well, you know how Heaven can be. They might’ve decided they’re too good for us.” 

But that didn’t seem right. Not to Lucifer at least. He knew Sera. Even if she had intended to betray them, she would’ve gone about it in a more subtle way. This seemed far more... personal. Almost as if they wanted to be seen, to catch the attention of something. Lucifer tried to piece together just what was going on, and just what he should do about it. 

His eyes widened as he noticed the rip just above the hotel widen, and something, someone, coming through. The hair on his neck suddenly stood on end, the light masking the angel, hiding their face and casting a large silhouette over the hotel. 

“Hey!” A loud, booming voice suddenly yelled, Lucifer nearly jumping in his skin. He could clearly see the ethereal glow of their eyes, and the snarl that pulled on their lips. “Are you Charlotte Morningstar?” 

“Um...” Charlie sweat nervously, putting on her best friendly smile, silently begging that maybe they were a friendly angel. But she knew that wasn’t the case, not if this was their entrance. “Yes?” 

Their lips curled upward into a smirk, grinning down at her. “Perfect.” 

Their wings curled into their back, disappearing in a burst of golden magic. Dropping to the ground, they landed just before the hotel with a loud thud, bright blue eyes turning up to look at them, crinkling at the edges as they grinned maniacally. You finally made it into Hell. 

Letting out a sinister chuckle, you stood up straight, nearly bursting at the seams with excitement. “Well, well, well, well, well! Let me get a look at the menagerie!” 

Your eyes, glowing almost ominously, roved over the group before you. Each and every person, you studied meticulously, you knew exactly which ones were of no concern, which one would stand up for the hotel, which ones you would kill. 

“You must Vaggie,” Your eyes landed on the fallen angel, watching as she visibly flinched at the sound of her name coming from your mouth. You moved onto the next one, smirking. “You must be Alastor,” 

Alastor’s eyes narrowed at you, curiosity and even a hint of worry eating at him. Something didn’t seem right about any of this. This wasn’t like the other angelic attacks, no, this seemed far more malicious. He didn’t fail to notice the horror written plainly across the Demon King’s face either, especially as your eyes finally landed on him. Lucifer. 

“And Lucifer, the King of Hell, wow! She keeps you here, isn’t that just swell?” You rolled your eyes in annoyance, your grin ever present as you tensed. You knew Lucifer was in and out of the hotel, but you had hoped to catch Charlie in a moment of vulnerability. Not that it mattered in the end, they were all going to suffer the same fate. You’d already decided how this would end. 

“I-It can’t be...” Lucifer stuttered, nearly stumbling backward, his heart thudding in his chest, drumming loudly in his ears. You let out a string of laughter, your eyes watering at the sight of his trembling frame. This was all so perfect. 

“Oh, but it can be. And it is!” You ran your fingers through your hair, watching as Lucifer’s fearful gaze was drawn to the charcoal color of your hands, as if you had been burnt, the off coloration seeping down your arms, into your skin. Purple lines streaked through your arms, your fingers more resembling claws than hands now. “I got a new style, and a few new toys that are gonna put an end to your happily ever after, once and for all!” 

“Woah, woah!” Charlie jumped to the front, holding her hands out defensively. “This has gotta be a misunderstanding! In case you haven’t heard, I’ve established peace with the Heavens—” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ve heard,” You snapped, glaring at Charlie, who flinched. You clenched your fist, raising it as you glanced at it, before smirking at Charlie. “I’ve had your little message to the Heavens, on loop!” 

A ball of light formed in your hand, your grin stretching across your face as you threw it Charlie. The demon’s eyes widened, letting out a startled cry as it hit her square in the chest, skidding across the grass, tripping on the steps of the hotel entrance. Lucifer was immediately at her side, checking her for injuries, shooting you a dark glare. You giggled, however, your grin leaning on maniacal as your eyes glowed. 

“I just love that part, where Lucifer spends the rest of his days in this nowhere realm, with a bunch of nobodies!” 

Something in you finally snapped, rushing at Charlie. She let out a startled scream as you grabbed her by her ankles, yanking her out of Lucifer’s caring hold, standing her up straight as you danced around with her, flinging her left and right. 

“That’s right, I heard the story over and over again,” You sung cheerfully, spinning Charlie out of your grip, turning your anger on Vaggie as she flew at you, spear pointed to your heart. 

Grabbing the spear handle, the tip just barely pressing into your chest, you flung Vaggie, giggling all the while. “Gee, it’s swell to finally meet his other friends!” 

You watched as the cat demon, Husk, tried to attack, a pitiful attempt in your opinion. You grabbed him by his wings, pulling him up and pulling his feet out from under him, dropping him on the ground. “That’s right, I heard the story, don’t really like how it ends!” 

A tall, spider-like demon, Angel Dust, rushed to Husk’s rescue, yelling as he barreled towards you. You grinned as you sidestepped him, watching as he tripped over Husk. “Gee, it’s swell to finally meet his other friends!” 

Your attention zoned back in on Charlie, who was still trying to gather her wits. Grabbing her by her wrists, your pair of wings flapped behind you as you flew into the air. Charlie cried out in alarm as you tossed her upward, grabbing her by her ankles and dangling her around. “What did he say about me, what did he say?” 

Dropping Charlie, she landed with a thud as you whipped over to Vaggie, grabbing her by her waist and spinning round and round. “What did you do without me, what did you do~?” 

Throwing Vaggie, you turned your attention to the demon who had been narrowly managing to avoid you, Alastor. You grabbed him just before he could melt into the shadows, pulling him up off the ground as you held him by his waist, looking up at him with big, deceivingly innocent eyes. “Did you play games without me? What did you play?” 

Releasing him just before he could retaliate, your wings flapped as you dodged each oncoming attack with ease, gliding towards your true victim. “Did you think all this time that I wouldn’t find out about you!?” 

Your wings spread out, your blue eyes glowing as you floated just before the Devil himself, grinning madly, as if excited. Lucifer flinched under your cold gaze, completely frozen in place. However, he found himself being ripped from his place as silky golden ribbons poured from your hands, wrapping around Lucifer, around each and every sinner and demon. With a flap of your wings, you yanked the ribbons, pulling them together as they smashed into one another. 

“Oh, that’s right I heard the story over and over again, gee it’s swell to finally meet his other friends...” You landed on the roof of the hotel entrance, giggling at the sight of the demons before you scrambling to get their bearings. 

“She’s running circles around us!” Husk hissed, clawed hand running through the fur on his head. Angel scoffed, sitting up as he rubbed his pained arms. 

“I’m rusty, give me a break!” He grumbled, pushing himself up. 

As everyone stood up, one demon remained, stuck on the ground. It felt as though the whole world was spinning, threatening to uproot everything good in his life. Karma certainly was a bitch. “I-It really is her. But she can’t be serious...” 

“You know her, dad!? Can you tell us who she is?” Charlie asked, looking to her father with worry. She had never seen him look so utterly terrified. 

Charlie’s words made the thin thread of patience within you snap. You grit your teeth, blood boiling, your skin burning, your hands aching, aching to squeeze the life out of them. “Who am I!? Who am I? What are you even saying!?” 

You stomped down toward the edge, your shadow casting over them in the glowing lights of the hotel. “I’m the loser of the game you didn’t know you were playing!” 

But this was different. This time, you wouldn’t lose. Your lips twitched, curling into a shaky smirk, nerves fried and emotions haywire. “Let’s play another game! This time, I’ve got to win!” 

A burst of light from your palm startled Lucifer, the light turning into a long staff, almost electrifying. A blade formed at the top in the shape of a scythe, the glow of your angelic power combined with the ominous glow of your eyes offputting. 

“Lives on the line, winner takes all, ready or not, let’s begin!” 

With a flap of your wings, you flew at the demons, watching as they jumped to dodge you. You let out a burst of laughter, slamming your foot into the gut of one of the demons, flinging them across the hotel yard. Another demon jumped at you, the handle of your scythe smashing into them, knocking them into the others. 

“Oh, that’s right, I heard the story over and over again, gee it’s swell to finally beat his other friends!” You sang happily, grabbing the arm of Vaggie and throwing her just before she could attempt an attack. Vaggie cried out as she crashed into the ground, battered and bruised. 

“Oh, that’s right, I heard the story, don’t really like how it ends!” 

You shoved demons aside, throwing them around, all the while Lucifer could only watch. He could only watch as you terrorized his friends, and you were reveling in it. The tables had finally turned, and now, he was playing your game. 

“Gee, it’s swell to finally beat his other,” You flew around, dodging demons, zoning in on one demon in particular. This was it. “Other...” 

“Other friends!” 

Your scythe sliced clean through Charlie’s waist, the angelic weapon leaving a trail of gold through her body. Charlie’s eyes widened, a silent scream stuck in her throat, her vision blotting and clouding. The last thing she saw was the horror in her father’s eyes as he stood before her, completely frozen, unable to move. 

Charlie collapsed to the ground, the golden trail healing like a scar, almost as if it hadn’t cut through her at all. You giggled as Vaggie rushed to Charlie’s side, the other demons shortly behind her as they checked to make sure she was still alive. Your eyes remained on Lucifer, his body deathly still, as if he weren’t even breathing. He wasn’t. Because he knew exactly what you’d done. 

“Don’t worry, Luci,” You called out, a wicked grin spread across your face, as if knowing exactly what was going through his mind. “I didn’t kill her. I simply hit her with my divine light. I do wonder what would happen to a half demon being filled with angelic light...” 

You had already won.

[byhimawari]

“Chamomile”

(a RivaMika drabble)

“Captain?”

Really, fate could be so cruel. And he only calls it fate because given how comedically instantaneous this all happened – ‘this all’ being that he, her damn superior, was caught red handed pathetically slipping an envelope of his proclaimed feelings under her door like some lovesick teenager – it’s as though it was simply meant to be. Add in the fact that since that cursed letter is already in her room, he can’t take back the evidence of his humiliation.

But ever the stubborn type refusing to accept he’s embarrassed — because Captain Levi never gets embarrassed; no, not him — he plays it cool.

“Ackerman.”

“What are you doing here?” She asks, her tone a bit more surprised than curious, much to his relief.

“Hall monitoring,” his sarcasm a mask to hide any hint of suspicion, “What are you even doing out at the halls right now? It’s past curfew, you’re supposed to be in bed —“

“What did you just slide under my door?”

And like a fleeting bubble, the relief is gone. Of course it is. It’s Mikasa. Nothing ever comes easy with her, especially not the predicaments he puts himself in.

It’s when she raises a dubious brow that Levi knows he’s lost, that no matter what direction this conversation goes, Mikasa is inevitably going to see the envelope and read it. He obviously can’t take or ask for it back — because if he’s going to lose the whole battle, may he at least keep some dignity — so facing the music is his final card.

Though his mask stoic, he chooses to speak with honesty.

“A letter.”

“A letter?”

“Yes,” his heart races and it beats at his ear drums, but his voice is firm with resolve, “Read it thoroughly. Good night.”

“But — “

“I said good night, Ackerman.”

He feels her gaze on his back as he walks away, and when he turns the corner that, hears her door shut, the click of her lock an echo. By the time he reaches his quarters, she’s sure to have finished reading the letter. Levi tries to block off any possible reaction she may have, not wanting the picture the best in case it comes to the worse.

But still her smile creeps in.

Levi closes his door and approaches his desk, needing to keep himself productive before he’s consumed by the image of Mikasa finishing his letter with what he hopes is the same smile that keeps fighting to stay in his mind.

But on his desk is something that wasn’t there when he left. A small box. Inside the box are transparent mesh tea bags, a blend of tea leaves carefully sealed in each, its aroma herbaceous and floral. But it is what’s under the box that captures his eye: a folded paper. He unfolds it. It’s a letter.

—

Dear Captain,

I promise this is not a prank.

In fact, this is very hard for me to say, which I guess is why I’m writing to you in a letter.

I’m starting to fall in love with you. Actually, I think I already am. I miss you when you’re gone and I’m happy when you’re around, even if you’re grumpy and annoying. You make me feel complete, a feeling I believed no longer existed for me.

I know you’re my captain and that I shouldn’t feel this way, but I do. I really don’t know when this happened. Or how. Or even why my heart chooses you despite it all. All I know is in this world of chaos, you are my calm.

And I hope when we next see each other, you’ll let me be yours.

Sincerely,

Mikasa

P.S. Chamomile is good for sleep.

—

He reads it, again and again. He even folds and unfolds the letter just to see if the words remained the same, if what he read is real.

Chamomile tea is good for sleep. Levi looks back at the box of teabags, each beautifully and intentionally handcrafted with care, with him and his poor sleeping habits in mind. Him in her mind.

Just how often does she look at him?

While his insomniac nature is no mystery to anyone in the Scouts, there’s this warmth in her gesture, this thoughtfulness that makes the act feel more than a result of mere observation. And as much as he’d hate to admit, he can’t deny the pull in his heart at the fact that this is the same stubborn brat who picks fights with him like a hobby – endearingly-so now to some degree, enough for him to write a damn confessional – that cares enough to individually tie bags of dried and diced chamomile leaves to help his with his sleep, gifted together with a letter of love…

A heartbeat thuds in his ear and his throat. His breath hitches softly as he looks back at the letter, entranced by Mikasa’s words that quite literally tell him she loves him, the tea a symbol of it. And if she read his letter, which he’s absolutely certain she did, she now knows that he does too.

And that realization alone is enough to tug at the corner of his lips, a rare smile that he’s not trying to hide for once, a smile reserved only for her. Levi’s never felt so elated. They’re in love with each other, now without any doubt, and it feels like a damn victory.

He has to see her.

But first…

—

Mikasa looks at the envelope in her hands, her name neatly scripted on the front with his distinctive handwriting. She doesn’t know what’s more incredible: that her captain just slipped a letter under her door or the fact that she literally returned from doing the very same. Albeit, she left hers by sneaking into his office to place it on his desk while knowing he’s out on night watch. Fortunately, she didn’t get caught.

And the only reason she didn’t get caught was because Levi, unbeknownst to her, was at her door.

Her heart races nervously as she rips open the envelope, pulling out the neatly folded paper.

—

Mikasa,

As I write this letter, I’m inconvenienced with emotions that words often struggle to convey. It’s not always easy to articulate what’s in my heart, but I feel it is essential to share these thoughts with you.

You’re a gloomy brat. Through and through. But it’s the way you carry yourself with grace and integrity, even in the face of challenges that made me fall for you in more ways than one.

And in this cruel life where tomorrow is not promised, I don’t want to live nor die with the regret that I’ve never told you that I love you.

Thank you for being who you are — stubborn, gloomy, and endlessly captivating.

Yours, regardless of not if you’ll have me.

Levi

—

The entirety of his letter was nearly overlooked with that pretentious closure of his, almost scoffing at his audacity. Of course he’d never miss the opportunity to make it clear that everything will always be his way.

Yet, it’s that very audacity that warms her cheeks and curves her lips, the kind that unleashes the butterfly-like flutters in her chest and tells her that this is the ‘calm��� she sought for from him all this time.

Her words and his, both hand delivered, a request…

In this world of chaos, you are my calm. And I hope when we next see each other, you’ll let me be yours.

… and an answer.

Yours, regardless or not if you’ll have me.

—

The smile on her face grows, her eyes softening into admiration and something like relief. His answer had already been ready for her, long before she dropped off hers.

He loves her. He *loves* her. A profound emotion overwhelms her, like that of a lost hope reincarnating into something that tells her she’s actually worth loving. And as she reads over the letter once more, the warmth in her heart and the glisten in her eyes reassure her that she is.

There’s a knock on her door, startling her out of her trance. Figuring it must be important for someone to see her at this hour, she quickly settles the letter down on her desk. She makes her way to her door and opens it…just to see the very man who, per his words, is already hers.

“I figured you’d still be awake.”

She still feels the heat in her cheeks from his letter, and now standing face to face with him knowing exactly how he feels about her, and him knowing exactly how she feels about him, she can’t help but feel bashful.

“Did you need something, Captain?”

He answers with movement, holding out a cup of tea to her, one that she didn’t even realize he was holding this whole time, the steam filling the space between them with its soothing and familiar aroma. Very familiar.

Chamomile.

Chamomile.

Mikasa’s eyes widen slightly in surprise as she gazes at the cup, realizing what it really is.

“Is that–”

“For you? Yes,” he answers simply, though his expression is softer than she’s ever seen it.

He extends the cup to her and she holds it with both hands, gazing down at it with the same confusion but surprise. It hits her then, the actual answer she was seeking, seeing now with certainty that this is indeed from the tea bags she made for him. And by realizing this, it’s clear he did see her gift…and her letter.

“Chamomile is good for sleep.”

A soft hitch of her breath escapes her. Verbatim are those words from her confession, a question written in a form of a sentence in which he alas answered. His voice is quiet but the words are loud, chiming in with this expression on his face, softer than she’s ever seen it, that tells her she got what she wanted.

But did she really? Is he really accepting her love for him? He’s beating around the bush here, his words so far all suggestive but not definite. But then, as though he just read her mind – something he’s frustratingly quite good at – he leans in, distracting her from all her unsureness.

“Yours,” he whispers tenderly, leaving no room for doubt, followed by a fleeting touch of his lips on her cheek, chaste and light as a feather, yet heavy on the promise that he was, is, and will always be, hers.

Just like he wrote.

“Now go to bed, brat, before I write you up for breaking curfew,” he says sternly as he pulls away, but there’s no bite to his tone, the familiarity of their banter turn love language making it all the more comfortable between them. .

Mikasa can’t help but respond in turn, a small smile on her face, “Not for sneaking into your office?”

“Don’t tempt me,” he replies with a short scoff, and like a warm blanket draped around her, he then gives a soft smile of his own, a rarity in itself, “Good night, Mikasa.”

With that, he leaves her be, and she retreats back into her room, sitting down on bed with the cup still warm in her hands. It’s when she takes a small sip that at last unveils the big smile on her face that she can no longer mask. And with every giddy sip she takes, each flowing through her system like a rush, she realizes that perhaps chamomile isn’t so good for sleep after all.

[gazeofseer]

Universe is Infinite Darkness to find the Definite, hence there breathes an ocean full of stars and realms to ignite the gleaming light in a Life"

~}^°§| Pick a Pile }^°§|~

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Image. 1 : 'Mystical charm is a matter of debate, but ask a person who is themselves like one, who sheds multiple skins as the night takes turns beneath the days, the most awakened ones torn by the fate, but lives in a state of trance and melancholy where they see life and death at the same sight you are that one right?

Nice to meet you I never thought people could be wonderful too unless I reached to your energy a subtle leader who holds the world with their presence the chaos you soothe for your peace, your rage is as profound as the seamstress you are of Whatever is found..

Well I had a note from your spirits granny's favourite, and Mommy issues being as an trait you could match your vibe easily with men not because you are maneater or they see you as an damsel in distress too dumb to be shown and preyed so many concave your presence no my dear, you are the scapegoat a ones by the divine not for the world but to be in the world for the world, your purpose is clear your intent is too, what makes us worry is the way you feel alone, we keep showing up like day before yesterday in the market..? Find us in your tears, find us in your pain we are always speaking especially when you keep holding those volcanoes within the calmest demure of oceanic scenes -

With Love Granny.

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Image.2 : 'Oh the mess you create my love, as if all the complexity finds its ends in your simplicity, I see you know exactly what to do, when to do and how to do, my righteous queen, be at ease when things go wrong maybe, maybe someone is correcting you too, stop seeing life as a perception see it for the way your do it, live it, being one.

I guess you would have known by now whom am I right? Well I feel so little in front of you because your energy belongs to those of stars and the moon the divine one, this is your demon speaking....sacred huh? I know you aren't rather you are excited and challenged to meet people, to visit places that helps you to set up your own stage and create the magic that you are..

Like a jinx of your victory, I enter to annoy your darkness as it is my place and to soothe your aches and anxious hands with my alluring kisses leaving room for more space so you realise change is not an idea but it lies in you, I will be the cheerleader, the critic, the liar for you to be true in your nature I am your base to the extreme you are..I am your rewarding love for the resilience within you

- In Regards Your Spouse

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Image.3 : Lost? Is that even a world which has yet to find its terms of reality? My favourite warrior out there the vantage you reside in is my gift using it for battle is equivalent to your choice of using it to experience my existence even underneath the lies you found yourself around..

You are right life is daunting may death cut that, but what lies next is far more haunting for your soul to suffer from and I won't let you die till you fulfill the life I gave you my child.

If I have cursed you is for you to earn the blessings attested to the same, I am not playing nor will I let anyone play with you have faith and know whatever is led is come from my hands and walk towards it like you always do closing your eyes, seeing the light and attaining it by becoming one is you key.

You are the fire that walks with both the fire and burns, ashes and smoke there are two things you are one of all the contrasts you the main character you are the movie I have written quite proudly.

- Universe

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Image.4 : Escape is my second name, I know that what lies and what not was never a matter of bother because I speak through my existence, knowing my every move, being awakened and stretched to every inch of my soul and breathe, like the wind I do, and like the water I ground,

I am the memory of a life already lived, many of it adds to the ones I am living right now my journey is unique, different and beyond the queer or crowd because silence never settled in definite spaces rather moves the infinite space itself, I am the dust falling of your hands, I am hope walking through your feet it is my free will, And I am not pricing it for anything or anyone else ever or ever and never.

Life and fate are the players and my competitors they long like the shore for my heart beats thudding with grace of waves, I am not death nor life, nor an idea not a thing that can be said and ceased to believe I am a life happening millions in a while and once in billion time and I will make it to the savor of it like chosen one I volunteered my name to the divines and demons everyone forgets it's the damsel who enthroned as a queen, certainly.

- Yourself ( Ancestor )

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'Source is the one we all are connected with finding a way to it is always unique and why we millions of energies are distorted into uncountable ones to thrive towards' - S

Ps : Let me know did you find yours? ☘️🫁

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[candyeager]

𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐈𝐋

— gojo satoru x fem!oc

CHAPTER FOUR 2.5k words

short synopsis. in which her marriage to Satoru Gojo, the world's most arrogant and untouchable sorcerer becomes both a chain and a cure. warnings. graphic violence, murder, blood mentions, disorder eating, implied sexual threats, suggestive themes. tags. gojo x fem!oc, arranged marriage, angst with happy ending, eventual fluff, heavy pining/yearning, emotional detachment. oc is an empath.

previous chapter / masterlist / next chapter

Satoru

Satoru carried Kurai into the sterile, dimly lit operating room and gently placed her onto the table where Shoko usually performed her healing work. Her unconscious face looked peaceful despite the chaos she'd left behind, a stark contrast to the bloodshed he'd just witnessed.

Shoko was already waiting, snapping on her gloves with the ease of someone who'd done this a thousand times. She glanced at him, her expression calm but with a hint of bemusement in her eyes.

"Don't look so grim, Satoru. She'll be fine. You know how this goes. Just another patch-up job for me."

Satoru shrugged, though the crease in his brow remained. "Yeah, I know."

He lingered for a moment, eyes trailing over Kurai's face, his mind replaying the scene he'd walked into. Kneeling, drenched in blood, surrounded by bodies she'd so easily dispatched. His mind buzzed with the disconnect between her serene appearance and the violence she was clearly capable of. He didn't really know her, did he? Not beyond their brief, transactional interactions as husband and wife.

Shoko snapped the rubber glove onto her wrist again, her sharp eyes catching his lingering thoughts. "Go on, don't hover."

Satoru blinked, then gave a half-smirk. "Yeah, yeah. Don't have too much fun without me."

He turned and made his way to the door, pushing it closed behind him with a soft click.

As he stood in the hallway, the image of Kurai vomiting in the middle of her carnage gnawed at him again. She wasn't just violent—there was something else.

Something unstable.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hadn't signed up for this level of unpredictability when he agreed to the marriage. What was happening to her? Or maybe, what had always been there, hidden beneath the surface?

Before he could sink deeper into his thoughts, he sensed a familiar presence approaching. Without even looking up, he knew who it was.

"Yoshida," Satoru said as the young man approached, the tone of recognition laced with casual disinterest.

Yoshida nodded slightly, his hands tucked into his pockets as he leaned against the wall beside him. "All the bodies have been inspected, just like you thought, sensei. The wounds on their necks match the weapon she had." He paused, then added, "Messy job, though."

Satoru gave a low chuckle, though it didn't reach his eyes. "My wife really knows how to make a mess."

Yoshida raised a brow, but didn't comment further. He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and handed it to Satoru. "We found this on one of the thugs."

Satoru took it, glancing at the bounty on his head. The number printed there didn't surprise him, but it still annoyed him. He crumpled the paper further in his hand, irritated by the sheer stupidity of it all.

"A hundred million? Seriously?" He sighed. "You'd think they'd learn by now that going after me is a waste of time."

Yoshida nodded slowly, his eyes scanning the hall with disinterest. "They were just a bunch of wannabe bounty hunters. Couldn't even see cursed spirits. Kind of pathetic, really."

Satoru's lips twitched. "And yet they thought they could get to me by targeting her?"

There was a pause, the air shifting slightly as Yoshida's tone turned more serious. "We checked their records. It turns out they've got a history of violent crimes—rape, assaults, the whole sickening roster. From the state of one of the men... it looks like they were planning to do the same to her."

Satoru's eyes closed for a moment, his jaw tightening as an icy anger coiled in his chest. His wife. For a brief, intense moment, that thought made his blood boil. Despite the distance and indifference between them, she was still his—a part of his life now, even if it was arranged. The idea that someone thought they could lay a hand on her, thinking they could get away with it while he was around, stirred something possessive in him.

Yoshida glanced at Satoru, his usual casualness returning as he took the cue to leave. "I'll file the report. You'll take care of the higher-ups, sensei?"

"Leave them to me." Satoru's voice was  sharp, but his posture relaxed as he leaned back against the wall. "They'll understand it was self-defense. I'll make sure of it."

Yoshida nodded, dipping his head slightly in a gesture of respect. "Alright then. I'll be in touch." With that, he turned and walked away, his footsteps fading down the hallway.

Satoru was left alone, standing in the quiet hallway outside the operating room. His mind wandered back to Kurai, to the scene he'd walked into. He couldn't shake the sense of unease settling in his chest. She was becoming... something else.

He smirked to himself, though it was devoid of humor. "What a mess."

But even as he tried to shrug it off, the fury that had flared up inside him lingered, unsettling in its intensity. He told himself it was just his possessiveness. After all, she was his wife, and no one touched what was his.

Yet something told him it was more complicated than that.

Satoru stood in the dimly lit room, the flickering candlelight casting shadows that danced across the walls. The air was thick with tension, the kind that always clung to these secretive meetings with the higher-ups at Jujutsu Headquarters. Their presence was concealed behind heavy, ornate doors that circled him, voices disembodied and distant, yet cutting like a blade through the silence.

A voice broke through the stillness, cold and dispassionate. "We've received reports. Ten men—non-sorcerers—against one. Yet those men were slaughtered... by your wife. What do you have to say, Satoru Gojo?"

Satoru's gaze was calm, unflinching. He shoved his hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed, though there was a sharpness to his eyes. "What's there to say? It was self-defense. My wife was protecting herself."

Another voice, harsher, cut in without missing a beat. "Self-defense? It was a massacre. A butchery. She's lost control, Gojo. She's dangerous."

Satoru's lips curved ever so slightly, more a smirk than a smile, though the edge of it didn't reach his eyes. "Dangerous? You forget she was the one being hunted. They were after me, and she did what anyone would've done in her situation."

There was a murmur of disapproval from behind the doors, the sound low and simmering like a storm on the horizon.

"Those men were non-sorcerers," came another voice, steeped in bureaucratic coldness. "As jujutsu sorcerers, we are charged with protecting them. Not harming them. The human world will catch wind of this. The backlash—"

"My wife," Satoru interrupted, voice steady, eyes narrowing slightly, "is a non-sorcerer too. So, what exactly are you implying here?"

A heavy silence followed his words, the kind that swallowed the air in the room. Satoru's expression remained unreadable, but his presence alone seemed to weigh down the space, suffocating any challenge to his authority.

Another voice broke the silence, though quieter now, more measured. "So, will you take responsibility for what happens next? The families of the victims—"

"Will be compensated," Satoru cut in smoothly again, almost dismissively. "Generously. From my own resources. Their losses won't be overlooked."

A long pause followed, as if the higher-ups were recalibrating, weighing his words. Finally, one voice, firm and commanding, spoke from the shadows.

"Very well. But since Kurai Sanzu disobeyed the Ninth Memorandum by taking the lives of ten non-sorcerers, regardless of the context, we cannotoverlook this entirely. While her actions may be argued as self-preservation, she will face consequences. I hereby order the confiscation of the weapon she used in the killings. Furthermore, she will be confined to her home for fifty days, and her actions will be closely monitored."

Satoru's jaw clenched, but outwardly, he remained calm. His hand dipped into his coat, retrieving the dagger he'd found at the scene. The blade gleamed faintly in the dim light, similar to the weapon Kurai had gifted him during their wedding ceremony. He twirled it between his fingers once, then handed it over, his expression unfazed.

One of the higher-ups spoke again, their tone heavy with warning. "Monitor her closely, Gojo. If you fail... the consequences will be greater than you realize."

Satoru smirked. His voice, when he spoke, was laced with playful arrogance. "I won't fail. There's no one else better for the job than me."

The finality in his words hung in the air, the weight of his confidence undeniable. He turned on his heel, walking out without waiting for further dismissal, the door closing behind him with a soft thud.

Outside, in the cold corridor, Satoru's mask slipped, if only for a moment. He glanced down at his empty hand where the dagger had been, a brief flicker of frustration passing through his mind.

'Kurai', he thought, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. 'Still causing trouble after all these years, huh? Good thing I'm always around to clean it up.'

But even then, deep down, he knew this wasn't something he could control with strength alone. And that unsettled him more than any curse ever could.

Satoru strode through the veil of cursed energy surrounding his shared residence with Kurai, the air shimmering faintly as it parted for him. He barely glanced at it, more concerned with what lay inside. As he stepped through the door, Yoshida was already there, lounging on a chair, arms folded as though he'd been expecting him for hours.

"How did the meeting with the higher-ups go?" Yoshida asked, his tone light, though his sharp eyes didn't miss a thing.

Satoru shrugged, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Nailed it."

He didn't stop moving, his gaze drifting to Kurai's bedroom door. "Is she inside?"

"Yeah," Yoshida replied, pushing himself up from his seat and walking over to stand beside Satoru. "We moved her into her room. She's still out cold. Shoko-sensei said it'll take a few days to flush all the poison out of her system."

Satoru nodded, his face unreadable behind his signature blindfold. He'd expected as much, but hearing it confirmed made the situation feel even more irritating.

"And the arrow?" he asked.

Yoshida's expression darkened slightly, his professional tone slipping in. "It was embedded with cursed energy from the Sanzu clan, laced with poison. But they're claiming innocence, saying the arrows were stolen, and their cursed energy was forged."

Satoru let out a small, almost amused scoff. "What kind of bullshit is that?"

"Right?" Yoshida allowed a half-smile to touch his lips. "But it seems like they think we can't do anything because, well, they're Kurai-san's family."

Satoru fell into silence, his hands sliding into his pockets as he stared at Kurai's door. Family. Right. They thought that would matter to him. They thought they had the upper hand because of something as flimsy as blood ties.

"Then they must be stupider than I thought," Satoru said finally, his tone as casual as if they were discussing the weather. "If they think I care about that. Family, connections... none of that means anything to me."

Yoshida chuckled lightly. "I figured you'd say that, sensei." He straightened, adopting a more business-like tone. "Also, they sent a request to visit Kurai-san."

Satoru didn't hesitate. "Tell them to wait until she's conscious. She's not going anywhere for a while. They'll have plenty of time to see her."

Yoshida raised an eyebrow. "And you, sensei? Are you going back to work, or...?"

Satoru stretched his arms above his head lazily, as if all of this was just a minor inconvenience.

"I guess I'll take that honeymoon break now," he said, a grin tugging at his lips.

Yoshida's smile widened slightly, amused by the entire situation. "Taking a break? That's rare for you, sensei."

Satoru let out a light laugh, his grin as cocky as ever. "Well, even the strongest sorcerer needs some time off."

But just as the humor settled, Satoru felt it—a faint disturbance behind the veil protecting the house. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he glanced toward Yoshida. Yoshida gave a small nod, confirming he'd sensed it too. Without a word, Yoshida moved first, stepping outside to check the source of the unwelcome presence. Satoru followed, his hands still casually in his pockets, though his senses were on high alert.

Once outside, Satoru saw them—a group from his own clan, the East faction, who had always opposed his marriage to Kurai. They were led by Osamu Gojo, an elder who had been particularly vocal in his disdain ever since Satoru was first betrothed. The moment the group saw Satoru emerge, they dropped to their knees, heads bowed low in submission.

"Satoru-sama!" Osamu's voice wavered slightly, as though he feared speaking yet knew he had to. "We beg you—please divorce Lady Sanzu right now! It's exactly as we feared... the Sanzu clan are dangerous, evil people. They've made deals with devils, which is how they acquired their cursed abilities, their mind-reading powers—"

Satoru raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You're still stuck on that old nonsense from years ago?"

Osamu hesitated but pressed on, clearly desperate. "It's not... There are legends, Satoru-sama! The Sanzu family has always been tied to bloodshed, and Lady Sanzu's thirst for violence must be even worse because of her ability to feel so deeply. She must be affected by it more than anyone else! She's dangerous—uncontrollable!"

Satoru let out a small, humorless chuckle. "Don't worry. I'm not afraid of her."

Osamu, visibly sweating now, continued pleading. "Please, for the sake of the Gojo clan, reconsider—especially after the carnage she committed—"

"Enough." Satoru's tone was sharper now, cutting through the elder's words like a blade. "I don't have any intention of divorcing her."

Osamu looked like he was about to protest again, but Satoru's gaze hardened, his smile never quite reaching his eyes. "One more word about my marriage, and I'll destroy you."

The air grew tense, the weight of Satoru's power pressing down on the group of people kneeling before him. But just as the pressure became unbearable, Satoru's expression shifted back to one of casual amusement, and he leaned in slightly, as if sharing a secret. His voice, however, was anything but quiet.

"Besides, you've got the wrong idea. I didn't marry her because she's a Sanzu." His grin widened. "I married her because she has a pretty face. And you wanna know what else?"

Osamu swallowed nervously, his face pale. "Y-Yes?"

Satoru's voice dropped, though it was still loud enough for everyone to hear. "She's really good in bed—just my type of woman."

A collective flush of embarrassment spread across the faces of the faction members, their discomfort painfully obvious. Osamu looked like he wanted to crawl into the ground.

Satoru straightened up, clapping his hands together as if the conversation was now over. "So, enough with this nonsense. Kurai Sanzu is one of us now, and I won't tolerate any more negative remarks about her."

He turned on his heel without another word, making his way back toward the house as the others scrambled to bow in his wake. Yoshida, ever the silent observer, followed closely behind.

Once they were far enough from the group, Yoshida broke the silence. "That was... unnecessary."

Satoru smirked, barely glancing over his shoulder. "I just need them to back off. Get behind her, you know? And..."

Yoshida hummed thoughtfully, unsure where the conversation was headed. "And?"

Satoru's grin widened. "My wife's really beautiful, isn't she?"

With that, Satoru turned, his hands still in his pockets as he sauntered toward Kurai's room, leaving Yoshida standing behind, shaking his head slightly, a faint smirk on his face.

< chapter four ends >

© CANDYEAGER. do not copy, repost, modify, or translate my works in any other platforms.

[lazykatie]

What could have happened AFTER the Castlecoming Ball (Part 2)

You can find

What could’ve happened at Castlecoming Week here (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3)

and

What could have happened AFTER the Castlecoming Ball here (Part 1, Part 3)

Ella leaned against Bridget’s door, her heart racing as she tried to process everything that’s happened. The weight of her friend’s pain pressed heavily on her chest. Slowly her back slid down the door until she found herself sitting on the cold floor of the dormitory hallway. She was supposed to be back home by now, but now is not really the time for her to worry about her stepmother. She needed to make things right with Bridget. 

With a deep breath, Ella prepared herself. She couldn’t afford to wallow in guilt; she needed to act. She needed to get her hands dirty. She needed to jump headfirst into this mess, the chaos she had inadvertently triggered. She needed to confront Uliana. 

Ella made her way to Black Lagoon, the air thick with an eerie mist that swirled and enveloped her like a dark cloak. Each step felt heavier as she walked on the jagged rocks, the sounds of water lapping against the shore echoing ominously in the silence.

“ULIANA!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the stillness. “ULIANA! SHOW YOURSELF!”

As if in response, a strange light began to glow from the depths of murky waters. A giant angler fish emerged, its bioluminescent lure casting an otherworldly glow across the lagoon. The fish’s enormous form seemed to part the water, revealing a stone path that led directly to its mouth.

Ella hesitated for a moment, the sight both mesmerizing and terrifying. Memories of Bridget’s tear-streaked face flashed in her mind—the pain, the betrayal in her eyes. She couldn’t let that be the last image she had of her friend. No, she owed it to Bridget to make things right. She prepared herself, and her resolve hardened. She couldn’t turn back now.

The fish opened its massive mouth, and Uliana emerged from its depths, her silhouette framed by the shimmering light as her crew followed her.

“How dare you, a mere peasant, call for me,” Ulaina sneered, her voice dripping with disdain.

Ella squared her shoulders, refusing to be intimidated. “Give it to me. The spellbook. The cursed item. Just give me what you used on Bridget. Do it while I’m asking nicely.”

“Easy, lass. It’s not like you can do anything about it.” Hook interjected, his tone dismissive.

“Don’t get me started with you, Hook. I’ll deal with you later,” Ella shot back, her anger flaring. Her fist clenched at her sides, and she could feel her pulse quicken as the heat of her frustration surged through her.

Uliana cackled, a sound that sent shivers down Ella’s spine. “If I don’t give it to you, what are you gonna do about it?”

“On second thought, Morgie darling, fetch the cookbook,” Uliana commanded. Morgie obediently retrieved it, her tentacles writhing with excitement.

“Why don’t you return this to Principal Merlin’s office, since you’re quite eager to get your hands on it?” Uliana tossed the book towards Ella, who barely caught it, her heart racing.

Ella opened the book and flipped through the pages, desperation clawing at her insides. She scanned each spell, searching for the one that had cursed Bridget. Finally, she found it, but her heart sank as she read the description. She can’t understand it. The spell only changed a person's appearance—nothing about personality or anything internal. 

Ella’s mind raced. This didn’t make sense. Bridget had always been the sweetest, most forgiving person she knew, never holding grudges, even when others mocked her for being too nice. She remembered the times when Bridget would laugh off insults with a lighthearted joke or offer treats to someone who wronged her. Bridget always said, “There’s good in everyone” or “You’ll always get more with sugar than salt.” This newfound anger, this darkness—it was so unlike her.  

Did she really mess it up? But Bridget wasn’t a resentful person before. Was it really just her fault? No, there must be something else. There had to be something more at play, something beyond the simple spell described in the book.

As the VK began to head back into their hideout, Ella murmured, “Where’s the rest of it?”

“Huh? The rest of what?” Morgie piped in, his tone a cutesy mocking one. 

“Where’s the rest of the spell?” She yelled out frantically, heaving loudly as her heart pumped fast.

“There’s nothing else. That’s all you need to bring back that desperate girl to her original form.” Uliana said, her voice laced with mockery.

“This can’t be! She’s already in her human form. You must’ve done something that messed with her head. She’s never mad at me like this!” Ella protested, desperation creeping into her voice.

Uliana turned to her crew, a sour expression crossing her face as she sensed betrayal in the air. She narrowed her eyes, scanning each member with suspicion. Could it be one of them? she thought. Loyalty is a fragile thing, easily swayed by fear or greed. She’s seen it before—those who claim to be allies, only to stab them in the back when it suits them. But she won’t let that happen again. The memory of her past betrayals flickered in her mind, fueling her resolve. They should know by now that crossing me has consequences. 

She then fixed her gaze back on Ella, a smirk playing on her lips, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, peasant. Are you sure it’s not you running off with your prince that messed with her head?”

The crew erupted into mocking laughter, their jeers echoing around the lagoon like a chorus of torment. Ella felt her cheeks flush with anger and humiliation, but she stood her ground. This was about Bridget, not her. 

“Enough!” Ella shouted, her voice steady despite the fear swirling inside her. “You think this is a game? You think you can just toy with people’s lives and get away with it?”

Uliana’s laughter faded, replaced by a cold glare. “Mind you, we’re not here to play games, but to rule.”

She turned back to enter the angler fish while the rest of her crew followed her. “You’ve wasted enough of our time.” 

She blew her shell necklace. In response, their giant angler fish hideout’s mouth started to close. “Good luck with the giant eels,” Uliana said to Ella as the rocks descended with the hideout.

Ella narrowly escaped the eels as she hopped on the descending rocks, tossing the book first before diving onto the shore like a mad woman. She landed hard, her chest heaving as she lay sprawled on the ground, adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, her limbs trembling from the exertion. Dirt clung to her sweat-soaked skin, and her muscles ached from the desperate scramble. For a moment, she just lay there, eyes wide, heart pounding in her ears, struggling to process the danger she had just survived.

~~~

While Ella struggled to escape the giant eels above, another struggled beneath the surface of the lagoon.

“WHO DARES TO BREAK BRIDGET’S CURSE?” Uliana yelled angrily at her closest crew.

Each one denied with “I don’t even like her,” or “I wouldn’t do that to you, my goddess,” or “I don’t care,” But one, out of the four, remained silent. Hook processed what he had done, unsure why he had acted. For him, it was really just a spur of the moment, nothing else. Or was it? 

As he stood there, a flashback of their dance at the Castlecoming Ball flooded his mind—the way Bridget had looked at him, her eyes filled with warmth and trust. He remembered the softness of her hand in his, the lightness of her laugh as they moved across the floor. It had been a rare moment where he felt something—something he couldn’t quite name, but it lingered, stirring a part of him he thought long buried.

Was it guilt? Was it something more? Even he himself didn’t know why he had acted, but the memory of Bridget’s smile haunted him, leaving him more conflicted than ever.

“James, would you care to explain.” Uliana smiled with wide eyes that could kill.

Morgie and the couple moved aside as Uliana approached him. “I thought we had already established that you don’t have anything to do with that pesky princess.”

“I don’t.” Hook answered shortly, gulping.

“Then tell me, why in Merlin’s world is she back to her normal self?” She asked, her tentacle brushing his cheeks.

“I don’t kno—” 

“LIES!” Uliana accused firmly.

“There’s only five of us who know how to reverse it.” She paused, scanning the group. “These three,” pointing at Maleficent, Morgie, and Hades, “don’t like her enough to do her a favor.”

“But you, my dear, have been showing a lot of interest in her. Even danced with her during the ball. Was it really all just an act, Hook?”

Hook couldn’t utter a single word, also unsure where his loyalty lay.

Uliana took his silence as a no, "I guess you’ve made your choice.”

She inhaled deeply before she yelled, “THROW HIM TO THE EELS!”

Uliana’s other lackeys started to surround Hook as she blew her shell necklace.

“WAIT! Do we really have to do this, Uli?” Morgie interfered. 

She scoffed before saying, “ Loyalty isn’t gray like people, Morgie. It's black and white. You’re either completely loyal or not loyal at all.” She continued in a bitter tone.

“BUT—”

“NO MORE BUTS! THROW HIM NOW!” 

Maleficent cast a spell on the lackeys, freezing them in place.

“Don’t you dare, Mal!”

“I’m not,” she defended herself. 

“I just thought that we could use him to torment princess weirdo more,” Maleficent suggested, her eyes glowing green, signaling her psychotic tendencies. The thrill of watching Bridget squirm under their manipulation was far more appealing than simply eliminating Hook; it was a game, and she relished the thought of orchestrating chaos from the shadows, savoring every moment of the princess’s despair.

Uliana narrowed her eyes, contemplating Maleficent’s suggestion. Maleficent wasn’t always like this; she never orchestrated a plan, especially something that could harm Hook. Maybe she had a change of heart. Maybe this time, Maleficent had chosen to be more active in ensuing chaos.

“You think you can manipulate him to your advantage? That could work, but it’s a risk.”

“Every plan is a risk,” Maleficent replied smoothly, her expression sly. “But if he’s truly conflicted, we can use that to our benefit. He’ll be our pawn in this game.”

“Fine, but do it properly,” Uliana said to Maleficent as she exited the hideout with Morgie following right behind her.

Hook felt grateful to Maleficent. She always had his back, always diverting the attention from him whenever he needed it. However, he would never guess she would suggest he become their pawn. Their pawn. Maybe it was just his theatrics rubbing off on her.

He approached her. “Thanks for that, Mal. I know that I can count on you,” he said, placing his left hand on her shoulder.

Maleficent looked at the hand as if disgusted by it. Pushing the hand away, she said, “Don’t be ridiculous. There’s no fun in making you eel food. Controlling you would be much, much more thrilling.” Her eyes glowed green again.

“Mal—”

“I already warned you before, so don’t even.” she threatened her ‘friend’, before leaving the hideout with Hades.

Hook couldn’t believe this. A wave of dread washed over him. He had underestimated Uliana’s wrath. He underestimated the depths of Maleficent’s cunningness. Maybe for once, he also needed to take his own advice: Trust no one, because even salt can look like sugar.

~~~

A/N: After a few days, I finally finished it. Don't really know if it makes sense, but I hope it does! Happy reading everyone!!!

[soulc-hilde]

Prologue - Bizcocho

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x OFC! Caden Woods

Warnings: Family trauma, mental illness, improper coping methods, cursing, implied sexual scenes, mentions of suicide, drug abuse

Synopsis: Caden was never a sociable person, preferring her pastries and cemeteries to the human world. Carmen, on the other hand, is drenched in chaos; his need to be perfect in life, echoes his work ethic in the kitchen. Desperate to prove his brother's spirit and former boss wrong, he forges his family's restaurant into his own image. Is it possible for bears to get lost in the woods? Or do they just make it their home?

divider by ... I forgot, but if y'all know who created this please tag them in the comments!

Loneliness. Is it as grim as people make it out to be or is it just a misconception? Can one really drive themselves into madness or is it all just an illusion? A trick of the mind?

A series of questions that required a list of answers remain, floating in the back of Caden’s thoughts like some mystical prophecy waiting to be fulfilled. Conditioned to live life in her own way, viewing the world through a third eye and abandoning any emotion outside of the usual deadpan. Even in the unruliest moments, that’s all she’d appear. Dead. Cold. Unwilling to process anything.

Escaping to Chicago wasn’t supposed to be as successful as it was. She believed that within the first week of her settling in, police would kick down her door and drag her all the way back home to her oh-so worrisome mother. Yet, nothing came. No texts, no calls, no police. Just silence, and she welcomed it until it became unsettling. So, she searched for a job.

It wasn’t like she was a walking Jeopardy of career experiences, but it’d be a lie to say that she wasn’t well-rounded. She could cook, clean, sell, fix, and paint just about anything in record timing. Anything to get some money in her pocket and keep her bills covered. Although, there was a skill of her’s that was a bit personal, a reminiscence of her life that didn’t involve a stonehearted girl and her shit of a family.

She lived to bake. Never bothered to attend proper schooling for it outside of vocational school nor could she afford it, but it was where she was at peace with herself. Drawing the different pastries and their ingredients before bringing it to life, it was like she was in her own Wonderland.

It was how she met her neighbor, Tina Marrero, who designated herself as the girl’s Tia. The woman and her son, Louie were walking past the open apartment door when the familiar smell of Bizcocho Dominicano. Leaning inside, the older woman knocked on the metal frame of the doorway, watching the small, curved figure appear from around the corner with a pan in hand.

“Oh, uh, hi,” she stutters, lifting the recently baked cake as a wave. Tina nods, “hi. Sorry to barge in, I’m Tina and this is my son, Louie. We were walking by and smelled Bizcocho.”

Caden sends a small smile her way, setting the pan down on the closest table nearby. “Ah, yes. Yes, bizcocho Dominicano. Are you?” Tina nods, a small smile growing across her freckled features, “yeah. Yeah, I am. It’s good to meet you,” she trails.

“Oh, Caden. Caden Woods,” she answers the unspoken question. “I was in the middle of making the second cake and it got really hot in here, so I propped the door open. I’m sorry if that caused any trouble.”

Tina shakes her head, “no. No, no problem at all. I’d rather deal with this for a neighbor than some baboso.” Caden chuckles, nodding in understanding, “I don’t blame you at all. Uh, would you like to take a cake home? The first one I made has already cooled, I just have to frost it.”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to. I’m the one who trespassed into your home, there’s no need.” Caden stops her, “no, please. I kind of came to Chicago on a whim and didn’t see what areas were had the highest Dominicans, if any at all, so it’s been kind of lonely at times. I want you to have it.”

Tina smiles, “thank you.” Caden simply nods, walking back into the kitchen. Within a few minutes, the girl returns into the kitchen with a round sage green cake carrier.

She sets it on the living room coffee table, pulling the lid off with a small ‘tada.’ The older woman’s jaw drops, eyeing the blinding white traditional merengue frosting and tiny sage green hearts lined the top and bottom of the cake.

“Anda el diablo,” she gasps. “This looks amazing, kid.” She looks down, hearty cheeks pushing up against her almond shaped eyes. “Thank you, Miss. Tina.” She places the lid back on, locking the cake away. “It has the traditional pineapple jam inside; I hope you enjoy.”

Tina stands, holding the carrier to her chest. She gently pats the girl on her shoulder, “Gracias, mija. I’ll return this to you when we finish the cake.”

“No, it’s yours to keep,” she laughs, leading the woman back to the hallway. “I have way too many of those.” Tina just looks at her with a soft gaze, “welcome to Chicago,” and leaves with Louie following behind.

Stepping inside her own apartment, Tina sits the cake down onto the dinner table. Louie sits down, eyes wide and focused on the dessert. “Can I have some?” He asks, drool nearly dropping from his lips. “I got you, papito.” She smiles, opening the case. She grabs her kitchen knife, slicing it into the airy dessert.

Carefully serving the slice on a blue rimmed, white porcelain saucer. The golden center contrasts beautifully with the ivory white merengue that seemed to melt into the white center of the plate before bleeding into a deep blue ocean. It was the picture-perfect definition of baked with love. Her son digs his fork into the triangular tip, the pineapple magma slurs onto the plate. 

His lips wrap around the slightly sharp edges of the fork, humming as the sponge melts against his tongue. He swallows the remnants of jam and cake, nodding with content. “That good?” Tina asks, eyes watching with surprise.

“That good,” he nods with a grin. “Let me try some,” she grabs a fork. Taking her own dive, she inserts the tip full of cake into her mouth. It melts perfectly, the taste of vanilla and pineapple working together as it warms against her tongue. The merengue was as soft as the cake itself, smooth and sweet yet not too much that the taste of sugar was strong.

She nods, humming, “damn good.”

The next morning, Tina walks out her door when she sees Caden leaving out of her’s. “Hey, kid,” she greets. The girl turns, sending the older woman a small smile, “mornin’, Miss. Tina. How are you today?”

“I’m pretty good, gotta head to work. You?” Caden shrugs, “as good as I can be. This’ll be, well, I lost count how many times I went out for a job.”

Tina raises an eyebrow, “is there a certain job you’re looking for?” She shakes her head, “no. I’m a Jack-of-all-trades and I’m desperate, so if you know anyone or anything, please let me know.”

“Oh, I do. Come with me,” she walks off. Caden follows the woman, confused.

After a few moments of driving, Tina pulls outside of the The Beef of Chicagoland. Caden’s eyebrows raise at the familiarity at the restaurant. “Have you tried getting a job here before?” Tina asks, stepping out of the car.

“Uh, no, actually.” The young woman scoffs, “I’ve only been here for a quick bite. Do y’all have a bakery in here?” Tina shrugs, walking through the back, “somethin’ of the sort.”

--

“I need two honey rolls, three cannolis, a chocolate cake,” Carmen calls off the receipt during the lunch rush.

It’s been a few years since Caden first stepped into The Beef and got the job thanks to Tina. Getting the job on the spot, she became their residential baker, replacing their old one who turned out to be a junkie, selling meth out the back of the restaurant. Working in the tiny square space was something to get used to, for sure, but the workload wasn’t abnormal for her as a freelance caterer.

Within The Beef, a family-oriented team created a space of joy and familiarity. Tina was, of course, her mother-figure while Richie was like the funny yet annoyingly drunk cousin, Mickey was the cocky, overzealous older brother that you love but wish he could shut up. Marcus, a recent hire under Caden’s watch, was a sweetheart and there was Ebra, who reminded her of her uncle.

As usual, once life believed that things were going just a little too good for her, things had to fall apart. After Mickey committed suicide, things began to change. The days at The Beef seemed long and pointless, her pastries were bland and commercially appropriate. In his will, he left a part of the restaurant to his little brother, Carmen.

She’s heard a lot of things about him. Good, shy, kid with a passion for food who gained acclaimed success within the culinary industry. Unlike his little sister, Sugar, Carmen never attended his funeral. Richie complained, ranting about it whenever Berzatto was mentioned. A part of her believed he was mad that he was never mentioned in Mickey’s will, but she knew Richie wasn’t that shallow.

She wouldn’t lie, though, Mickey could’ve at least warned her that man was like a fucking siren. “Chef, I need three more cannolis,” he barks. “I need to hear you, do you… understand me?!”

“Yes, chef.” Caden barks back, serving out the fresh Sicilian pastry without a blink. “Hey, don’t shout at her like that, what the fuck is wrong with you? What the hell got caught in your ass, Bear?” Carmen keeps his focus on the service, sending out plate after plate.

“I wasn’t shouting at her, Richie, I just needed to know that she heard what I said.” Richie leans over the window, ignoring the crowd of customers in front that watched the chaos. “Well, I’m just sayin’, you could act like you’ve got manners. Alright? Okay? She’s a lady, this is Honey, we’re talkin’ about.”

Carmen clenches his jaw, “shut the fuck up, Richie, alright? I got it, okay? Look,” he turns to Caden, “Caden, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry.”

She simply shakes her head, not bothering to pay mind to either one of the two. “It’s cool, I got two dozen honey rolls comin’ out the oven, Chef.” Watching her, his wide cerulean gaze follows her around that tight corner.

For Carmen, his take on Caden was fresh and a journey he had to partake on his own. There was no forlorn voicemails or letters from Mickey that told him about her despite the constant reminder from Richie that she was like the star in his eyes. Coming out of hiding, he was told at the last minute that his brother left a portion of the restaurant to him. The same restaurant he refused to let the younger Berzatto work in for unspoken reasons.

There was a lot of shit Mickey left behind that just didn’t make sense. From the amount of debt he was in down to who owned the other 50%. It was all too much. If Sugar wasn’t trying to spam his phone in hopes he’d respond, he was playing fucking Sherlock Holmes. A bad one at that.

After the final rush of the day, The Beef was closed, and the kitchen was as spotless as the staff was willing to do. Carmen holds the back door open for Caden, the two being the last to leave. He watches her all black form walk across the gravel, heading for the green and black Kawasaki Ninja with a matching skull designed helmet in hand.

“I’ll see you, tomorrow, Chef,” he calls after her. She simply raises a hand in return, keeping straight before straddling the leather seat. She starts the engine, its roar echoing through the quiet neighborhood. The smell of exhaust takes over, replacing the one of grease and beef.

He takes quick, timid steps toward her side. Praying that she doesn’t back over his toes. “Uh, Caden,’ he clears his throat, cigarette bouncing between his lips. “I wanted to, uh, I wanted to apologize, ya know? For, for my actions today. I, it, it was really shitty of me to, uh, act like that, especially put, putting you on the spot.”

Impulsively, she lays a gloved hand on his chest, shaking her head. “Dude, you’re cool. Richie’s just acting like an asshole, like usual. Especially towards you. If I was insulted, everyone would know, but it takes a lot for that to happen.”

Her lidded eyes stare into his wide ones. Anxious gaze clashing with the nonchalant glare. His fingers twitch, the spot her fingers touched was warm and taking its time to leave. God, she was beautiful. Short, honey blonde afro fluffy and glistening paired with a round, oval face and dark features. The center of her face was painted with dark freckles, like Tina’s, but her skin was darker. Her brown skin always glistened, ignorant of the feeling of being ashy.

Despite her work in the kitchen, her hands were void of blemishes and cuts. They weren’t perfect, but they were soft and small. Her right arm was tatted from her wrist to the top of her shoulder, a blended sleeve of cartoon characters and designs of a panda bear and thorns. She was a small thing, taller than Tina yet smaller than him with curves that whined for days.

Snapping out of his mind, he nods, stopping his jaw from biting on the head of the cigarette. “Goodnight, yeah?” She nods, “Goodnight.” She slides the helmet on as he watches, backing out of the parking slot and down the Chicago streets.

Baboso: Dominican adjective term for a liar or an idiot

Anda el diablo: Dominican phrase for Oh My God or like, Wow

Bizcocho Dominicano: Dominican style sponge cake made with a fruit jam and vanilla merengue.

I decided to make Tina of Dominican descent since I'm also of Dominican heritage. I also wanna practice my Spanish, so I'm kind of living through Caden. Other than that, I hope you enjoy our intro.

Taglist: @spiderstyles04 @lostinwonderland314

[emeritusemeritus]

Vulnera Sanentur [Weasley Twins x Reader]

Part 13

Previous / Next

Masterlist

Title: Vulnera Sanentur

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley {established relationship}

Timeline: DH1&2- Initially set during the battle of the seven potters. Canon and certain plot points have been altered for the needs of the story.

Summary: The battle of the seven Potters throws your world into chaos when one of your boyfriend’s is cursed. As Snape’s ex-potions assistant and previous protégée, you recognise the inflicted curse immediately and demand answers from your mentor.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of war and Voldy, descriptions of injury and blood, descriptive smut, p in v sex, shower sex, tension. Outside sex. Semi public sex. None sexual nudity. Crying. Snape has a soft spot for reader. Arguments. Probably some cursing. Mentions of nightmares. Reader is part of the Order of the Phoenix. Mentions of death (Dumbledore). Mentions of Tonks’ pregnancy. On it got a angsty. So much angst I can’t tag it all. Not spellchecked nor beta read, we die like Madeye.

Additional Warning: this chapter contains some heavy themes, mentions of injury, torture (though only brief) and negative body image. If you aren’t comfortable with this please feel free to skip forward.

"Go shower baby, take all the time you need. I'll make you a cup of tea for when you're out," George says gently, his hands placed tenderly on your hips as he presses a kiss to the back of your head. You didn't protest, though for a brief moment you did think that it was strange that Fred hadn't joined you but you were too tired to really think, not wanting to begin spiralling again. You turned and leaned up to press a kiss to George's lips, a sweet and gentle peck that you probably needed more than him before you walked into the bedroom to get some fresh clothes.

The bed wasn't made and there were clothes littering the floor near the wardrobe, the doors still wide open which only proved the point that they had fled quickly to Muriel's without time to fix up before they left. You walked over to the large dresser and immediately spot two empty photo frames littered around, missing the photographs that had occupied them only a few months ago. You recognised the photos as one taken in your fifth year during a snowball fight with both twins and you stood proudly around a snowman you'd made in the courtyard. The other, was a photo of the three of you at the yule ball, all dressed up in your finest, their hands at your waist as you beamed into the camera. Not having the capacity to think any deeper about the missing photos, you opened the drawer with your pyjamas, searching for the coziest ones you could find, your brain screaming at you for comfort. You pulled out some underwear from the drawer below and then reached for an oversized T-shirt that had once been George's, or rather Charlie's originally, the quidditch print long since faded from multiple wear and washes but it was the comfiest thing you owned, having stolen it from George in your fifth year when he'd massively outgrown it.

You walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower, closing the door behind you and placing down your clothes onto the little wooden stool that was kept beside the shower. You took a deep breath, psyching yourself up to look in the mirror, reluctant to see what would be staring back at you.

You moved to the side in an act of sheer bravery and finally looked at your form in the mirror, the woman staring back at you feeling unfamiliar.

You looked ghastly, exhausted and hollow-eyed, so much so that you hardly recognised yourself. You had bags under your eyes that were a threatening shade of purple and your skin looked sallow and ashen, at least what skin you could see under the inconceivable amount of blood covering the entirely of your torso, chest and neck, some splatters even on your face. Your clothes were caked in dried blood, the various layers hardly decipherable between each other under the full coverage, the browny, crimson hue so distinguishable against the light grey fabric of your shirt. You peeled off your ruined jacket and tossed it only the floor, hearing a thundering clunk as it hit the tile, reminding you of the broken Lebetum still inside your pocket. You pulled off your boots, followed by your socks and then your filthy jeans, having to undo the belt you'd stolen whilst you were camping out in a caravan park, your trousers no longer fitting correctly. You bit the bullet and peeled off your T-shirt, feeling thankful that Bill's numbing spell was still holding up as you managed to get the T-shirt off without pain. Next came your bra, chucked without care into the pile of soiled clothes at your feet until you were stood in just your panties.

You turned back to the mirror and within seconds your lip quivered, a barrage of negative thoughts swirling around your mind as you looked at your disfigured body. Your eyes welled with tears the longer you looked at your figure, seeing it clearly for the first time in so long. Your bones protruded more than ever on account of your involuntary weight loss and your hips no longer felt as full, your regular curves dimmed, no doubt due to the sustained lack of food. Your breasts, thankfully, still looked the same if not a tiny bit smaller but they appeared to be the only part of your body that had come away unscathed.

Your shoulder looked hideous, the months of non-healing tissue finally knitting together to form jagged, raised scars from the multiple teeth marks that had dragged your skin apart as you were dragged down the blasted hole in the stairs, her mouth still firmly clamped around your shoulder. The black staining from the venom had long since vanished after your painfully drawn each drop out with your wand, though sometimes you could still see a darkened hue, a figment of your imagination that felt real. The two largest puncture marks from the front, venomous fangs still looked inflamed though admittedly did look better than before; still not exactly a pretty sight. You moved your gaze to look at the gashes on your forearm, remembering the pain and the blood dripping from the wounds as the venom mixed with your blood, burning you from the inside out. You thought of Nagini and how her own wounds had caused her to lurch and convulse violently.

You looked at your bruised ribs, the smaller cuts over your hands and all the rest of the marks you'd long since forgotten, all now visible to your scrutinising eye. Then, you looked up at your face and saw the scar on your cheek, though healed and white against your skin, from Bellatrix. You tried not to think of the torture you'd endured, knowing that Hermione had suffered a greater torment but that didn't mean that you didn't suffer too. She'd taken great pleasure in bestowing the cruciatus curse upon you multiple times and watching on as she sliced at your body, pressing in deeper and deeper with her dagger as Fenrir Greyback paced around you threateningly, his resolve only moments away from slipping. Your lip had healed thankfully without issue, the sharp edge of her bejewelled ring breaking the skin as she backhanded you with force.

You couldn't bare to look any longer and stepped away from the mirror, realising that the steam had significantly clouded in the unventilated room which you quickly cleared away with a flick of your wand. You peeled off your panties and grabbed a towel, stepping into the shower. You watched as the dried blood staining your skin drains away, circulating around the plug hole before disappearing, the water becoming clearer with every passing second as it cleanses your skin. You want to cry at the sight but you can't, too emotionally drained by the last 24 hours, and more. The familiar scents of your shampoo and body wash fill you with comfort, even more so when you reach out for a bottle of shower gel that Fred and George shared, their scent filling the hot shower as you poured a little into your hand under the running water, allowing it to bubble up and vaporise in the enclosed space.

You washed your hair three times, feeling as if nothing would ever wash away the grime which you felt lingered on every strand. You conditioned your hair fir the first time in almost a year, a luxury you had not been able to do in all that time away. You felt comforted and slightly happier now, at least more stable; the shower working it's magic to wash away the physical and metaphorical dirt on you.

Eventually, you felt clean enough to turn off the shower and reach for the large, fluffy towel, parting yourself down before quickly dressing, not wanting to catch an untimely glimpse of your body after your mood had improved. You quickly dried your hair with a wave of your wand, hating the sensation of wet hair and exited the bathroom to find your boyfriends.

As soon as you exited the bathroom, you noticed that the bedroom had been tidied. The bed was freshly made and the clothes that had been strewn across the floor had been put away. You smiled to yourself as you walked between the en-suite and landing, thankful for your boyfriends thoughtfulness.

Two arms engulf you the moment you walk into the room as if they were unable to wait a moment longer and you realise by the scent and the force of the hug that it's Fred clinging to you.

"Princess," his words fall flat and there's more emotion in his voice than you can fathom, a need so desperate that you feel your heart break just a little. No matter how many times you'd embraced in the time that had passed between your reunion and now, it never seemed to get less desperate, all of you needing to reconnect on a deep level.

"Your tea, Angel," George says and you watch from over Fred's shoulder, what you could see anyway due to the sheer height of him, holding a steaming cup of tea you were very grateful for.

"You wanna drink it in bed?" Fred says suggestively, lips close to your ear and not letting you go. "We could order some food or we can pick something up, we'll wake you up when it comes."

"And we can eat in bed, move the TV in there, like we're camping out," George adds, moving to stand behind you, caging you between them.

"That sounds perfect actually," you reply, dropping you head to rest on George's shoulder. Someone is stroking your hip and you can't tell which twin it is but it's soothing and comforting being held so closely between them. "Will you come with me?"

"Wouldn't dream of leaving you," Fred replies, the hand on your hip clutching tighter, making you realise that it's Fred's hand.

"Not going anywhere," George adds, his own hand resting on your side now. "We might need a shower first though."

You felt a tingle of guilt at his words, realising that you'd been selfish, knowing that they had gone through things too, the battle and the lead up during the war. You waved them off to go shower, wanting them to wash away the day just as you had and decided to wait for them in bed.

Crawling into your oversized bed with fresh sheets and clean pyjamas feels almost like a religious experience after sleeping on the uncomfortable cot inside the tent, floors, barns and the occasional car for months on end. The soft, warm sheets and springy mattress felt like a luxury as you crawled in and snuggled down into the soft bed. You wanted to stay awake desperately so that you could savour the moment the three of you were in bed together but you felt your eyes slipping, though you fought against it. Fred showered first whilst George ordered food for you all and dragged the TV into the bedroom so you could all rest and recuperate.

You watched him carry in the Tv, seeing the muscles in his arm bulging under the weight, his fiery hair stuck in every direction and to you he had never looked more gorgeous. You couldn't help but stare, committing every part of his body to your memory, feeling as if you had to make up for lost time. George then jumped in the shower after Fred and you watched as Fred changed into equally comfy pyjamas as yourself, the set you'd bought him for Christmas two years ago.

Fred climbed in beside you to your right, followed by George on your left as soon as they were both showered and dressed. When their arms reached out to pull you in, rolling your body onto Fred's chest with George tucked tightly behind you, you felt immediately that everything was right in the world again. Nothing was said, not even a faint murmur as you all soaked in the moment, happy to have the familiar bodies beside you.

"Princess... Sweetheart, food's here," you hear Fred say distantly from your dreamless sleep, exhaustion fighting against your consciousness until you force your eyes open. Your mind and body protests, needing so much more sleep than you'd taken but you fight against it, needing food and love too.

George had plated everything up and the TV was already playing some muggle show you remembered from before you left, though the name escaped you.

You tucked into the food enthusiastically, hardly remembering the last time you ate so well. You'd become accustomed to a diet of fish and mushrooms with the occasional tinned good you'd come across, though it was never certain when the next meal would come, most the time it was days before you were able to eat again. Your pacing with the food slowed quickly as your stomach began to lurch and gurgle violently, no longer able to process such rich food or indeed a hearty amount. You sipped some water slowly and began eating again, though much slower now so that you didn't irritate your tummy.

The twins began talking, mostly to each other or to no one in particular about various things, some mention of the shop and other parts just commentary from the show you were watching but you didn't really focus on their words, just enjoying the soothing tones of their voices, happy to hear it again. Once your stomach was full, your eyes began getting heavy again and this time you didn't resist, allowing the much needed sleep to take over you, knowing that you were safe between the men you loved.

When you woke again, it was completely dark outside, the curtains in the bedroom not showing any sign of light even from the sides, making you frown as you considered what time it could be. You looked at the clock beside the bed on Fred's side and saw that it was 3:23am, meaning you'd been asleep for nearly 11 hours. The twins were asleep either side of you and you noticed that the food had been cleared away and the TV was no longer on. George was snoring gently to your left, lay on his back with his hand outstretched towards you but not actually touching you. Fred's arm was thrown over you waist, hand resting on your breast as he always liked to, like it always was before.

You peeled yourself away from Fred delicately replacing his arm onto the pillow behind you and slipped out of bed to go to the toilet. After drying your hands, you crept out of the bedroom and slipped into the kitchen for a glass of water, taking a seat at the kitchen table as you shuddered, having not felt the cold air of morning until you exited the bedroom. It was silent in the little flat, with no noise for the vendors or late night delivered you'd grown accustomed to in the time you lived here before. You had to remind yourself that you were safe, that there was no threat and you didn't need to be on alert incase anyone approached, in stark contrast to the months you'd spent on the run. It was just the three of you. Voldemort was dead. His followers had fled, died or been captured. You were safe.

Your shoulder was aching, the numbing spell Bill had cast had nearly completely faded but the pain was manageable. You sipped your water and a thought crossed your mind, that for the first time in months, you hadn't had night terrors about Christmas Eve in Godric's Hollow. It could have been that Voldemort, and Nagini, were dead and no longer able to haunt you, or perhaps it was having the twins beside you again so you weren't alone or maybe it was just that you'd been so sleep deprived that you'd simply passed out for 11 hours.

It was strange to be home, to be surrounded by your things and all the familiar comforts that you'd been without for so long. Your mind couldn't register the change and you felt like an imposter in your own life, like you weren't actually in your body anymore. How could you ever process this? How would you ever get better? You thought of Harry, Ron and Hermione, wondering if they were all feeling it too, where they awake and lamenting like you were? Unable to sleep and yet unable to do much else.

You signed and placed your glass in the sink, deciding to crawl back into bed where you wouldn't be alone.

"Baby?" You heard George say in a small, sleepy voice as you crawled back into bed, under the covers between the two.

"Sssh, it's me, I'm sorry go back to sleep Georgie," you whispered, reaching out to place your hand on his chest, feeling bad for waking him.

"Are you okay?" He whispers back and you nod in reply, hoping he'd feel the movement against him. "Really though?"

"I will be," you say honestly, eyes not closing as you stare into the dark room, though you're not certain that you believe your own words.

"Come here," he says, reaching out to pull you into him. You melt into his body, his arms cradling you against him as you rest your head in his chest. "There's so much I have to say to you," he says quietly, his deep voice vibrating in his chest, "I'm so sorry for how I was before, how I treated you. All you did was help me and I pushed you away. When you left, I thought I'd never get the chance to apologise or to make it up to you, if something had happened to you I'd," he pauses, changing the trajectory of his speech. "I promise that everyday I'll prove to you how much I love you, how sorry I am."

"George, it's okay," you sat quietly, sitting up a little as you search through the darkness for the outline of his face.

"He's right princess," you hear from behind you, alerting you to the other twin who was apparently awake. You feel a tender hand on your back and know that it's Fred as he scoots closer. "We both have so much to make up for."

"But I left, I'm the one who," you begin to say, only to be cut off by George.

"Helped defeat Voldemort? Found and destroyed Horcruxes? Slayed the snake? Acted on the task you'd been given by Dumbledore? You did nothing wrong, you did what needed to be done, accomplished so much."

"But I left."

"You came back."

A moment of silence passed as the three of you realise that there is nothing to argue about, each of you carrying your own guilt and burdens but no one holding any grudge against the things you couldn't change. Fred turns and flick on the beside lamp, the room illuminated with a faint glow as he keeps it dimmed. You realise as he turns back to you, feeling both of their gazes on you that there's so much left unsaid, so many questions that need answering. You shift on the bed so that your knees are pulled up to your chest, facing the two of them. Even mussed up from sleep and still tired they look gorgeous, never more perfect to you.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Fred asks and you flick your gaze to him, mentally questioning yourself if that is what you wanted.

"Only if you're ready," George adds, a little more delicately. Truthfully, it's the last thing you want. You want to forget everything that happened, sweep it under the proverbial rug and carry on with your life as if nothing had happened, but that was impossible, they deserved answers. You open your mouth and close it twice before you find the right words to say.

"I'll answer any questions you have, you deserve to know but I don't think I can explain everything right now," you reply honestly, reaching for your ponytail and twirling the hair around your finger nervously. The twins nod, seemingly fine with this proposal, understanding that telling the whole story would be much too hard for you. Thankfully, Ron and Hermione had explained quite a lot of the general story up until Godric's Hollow, when Bill had intercepted and diverted the conversation away.

"How long? How long did you know that you'd have to leave?" George says, his voice holding an emotion that made your gut clench. He didn't sound accusatory or betrayed but you realised the small hesitation in his voice meant that he needed to know how long you'd kept it from them.

"Hermione asked me just before the minister came, I said I'd consider it at first but then Dumbledore left me something in his will and it became obvious that he intended for me to join them as well."

He seems pleased by this answer, expelling a large breath that he'd been inadvertently holding as he nods gently, understanding.

"That thing that protected you, and me, Dumbledore gave you that?" Fred asks, pulling the information from your answer, no doubt still confused by what had happened with the Lebetum.

"Technically," you said with a nod, pausing to take a deep breath as you realised how much you'd have to tell them. "Severus made it to give to me, through Dumbledore in his will. It was his way of protecting me, his patronus was inside it," you began to explain, feeling the weight of his revelation hanging over you. You'd have to tell them.

You shifted a little on the bed, pulling your knees closer to your chest as you begin to explain.

"When he died, he gave me his memories for the pensieve, so that I could understand everything. He made the Lebetum, the black device, it saved us so many times when we were out there searching for the Horcruxes. He made me his assistant so that Voldemort wouldn't notice me... he, he loved me."

After a moment of silence, you look up into the faces of your boyfriends, excepting to see disgust or anger but instead found empathy. George looked outright sad whilst Fred looked supportive, both of them seeming to understand.

"We figured," Fred says with a gentle shrug, though he isn't dismissive of the fact. "You're beautiful princess, hard not for everyone to fall in love with you."

"Shut up," you mumble with a shy smile.

"But seriously, I don't think anyone had ever heard him laugh except for with you, or smile. You're brilliant and it's kind of hard not to notice how gorgeous you are. Didn't realise he felt it so deeply though," George says, reaching for your hand. "If you felt it back, that's okay."

"What?" You say, flabbergasted by the notion.

"It's really okay," Fred answers with a nod, "you chose us in the end right? But we know how much he meant to you."

Once again you're rendered speechless, surprised by their reaction. In the grand scheme of things it didn't matter now, he was dead, but you couldn't help but think that there might have been something there, even if you'd never realised.

"So he protected you?" George says, slightly diverting the conversation. You nodded.

"Yeah, his patronus led us to the sword and out of Malfoy's murder mansion," you say, picking at the covers with your fingers. You look up again when they don't laugh or reply and realise that they hadn't been told any of that. "Sorry, bad joke."

"You were at Malfoy Manor?" George's tone sounds immediately uneasy, something in his voice alerted you to the fact that he knew something, probably horror stories from the order.

"We were caught by a group of snatchers, they took us there," you explained, hoping that they'd skip past the details. You felt suddenly uncomfortable, realising that you'd have to tell them everything, the scars that littered your body and the torture you'd endured. They'd see you different after this, never look at you the same.

"What happened?" Fred's voice is shakier than you'd ever heard it. You took a deep breath and sighed, trying to be brave.

"Bellatrix tortured us," you say, trying to get through your words, "Hermione had disfigured Harry and then tried to get Draco to identify him but he couldn't so she kept us down in the dungeon and tried to pull information from us individually."

"Angel?"

"Hermione got the worst of it, she's still shaken from it and I think Ron will hear her screams forever," you ramble.

"Angel." His word was identical but his tone was not.

"She had this dagger, she'd ask questions and dig it in more and more if she didn't like the answer, she called over Fenrir Greyback and he was circling like a predator just waiting, taunted with each cut. That's how I got this," you gestured briefly to the scar on your cheekbone. "And a few more. When that didn't satisfy her she used the cruciatus curse. Severus, the doe, he sent Dobby to get us out when I used the Lebetum, she launched the dagger as we were leaving and it killed Dobby as we disapparated."

You couldn't look at them for a few moments as you breathed deeply until you did brave a peek and saw very different reactions in the twins. George looked heartbroken whereas Fred looked furius, his hands clenching white at the information.

"He took us to the safe house, to Bill's, I'm so sorry we couldn't tell you, but after what happened at the Lovegood's we couldn't risk telling anyone about where we were and Mr Ollivander had to rest up, then we needed Griphook to get into Gringotts, I'm so sorry."

"We understand," George said, squeezing your hand that you realised was still in his own. Fred didn't reply and you figured it was far from fine with him, but he didn't say anything. "What happened after?"

"Bill and Fleur let us rest up, he tried to fix my shoulder but," you paused, realising what you'd said. You cursed yourself mentally and closed your eyes, hoping to avoid that very topic entirely. "But then we needed to get into Hogwarts."

"Your shoulder?" George asks tenderly and you can feel his eyes flicking over you, as if he'd see something through your shirt.

"Please, don't," you said with a weak voice, tearing brimming at your eyes already, not wanting to have to tell them the story of your shoulder, or re-live that night again. You drop George's hand and hug your arms around yourself, the internal scars from that night still haunting you more than ever.

You hear a rustle and feel the bed shift from under you and look up to see Fred walking out quickly without a single look back. A sob rises in your chest at his actions, expecting this to happen but not for it to hurt so much. George immediately pulls you into his arms, pulling you into his lap as his arms cradle you, rocking gently as he shushes you.

"It's not you Angel, sssh, it's not your fault," he says tenderly as you cry, knowing that you'd pushed him away. "None of this is your fault, you hear me?"

You don't believe him in the slightest, unable to reply as your lip quivers like a young child, consumed by your heartbreak as you realise now that you really had chased him away. This wasn't what Bill had said would happen at all, you were too damaged to be loved now.

"Baby he'll be back, he just needs to cool off."

"He won't," you cried, pulling away from George defiantly until you're stood at the side of the bed, arms still clutched around yourself as if you'll fall apart and shatter if you don't hold yourself together. "I'm damaged, I'm disfigured, I'm broken George! Who would want to love me now?"

"Me."

He steps towards you, sheets falling from around his waist as he moves to stand directly in front of you, bowing his knees gently until he's face to face with you, his hand resting against your cheek, thumb tracing the scar that marks your face.

"I want to love you, always, and I will. So will Fred. Do you love me any less because I only have one ear now?"

"What? No," you say immediately, if not a little defensively. There's a brief smile that crosses his lips at the quickness of your reply and his eyebrows lift just a little, as if testing you.

"Then why would Fred and I love you any less because of your scar?"

"It's not that one," you say with a sniffle, realising that he thought you meant the one on your cheek.

"It doesn't matter, not to me."

"Or me."

You ship your head round and see Fred stood in the doorway, looking at least a little sheepish.

"I'm sorry princess, you didn't deserve that. I just couldn't listen to anything else. The thought of you being hurt, it's too much," he slowly begins walking over to you though he's careful, as if you'll react badly to his presence. "The thought that we weren't there to protect you, to help you, it makes me sick. There's not been a moment I haven't loved you since we were in third year, maybe even before, and nothing would change that."

"Angel, will you tell us?" George asks delicately, his hand running up your back, stroking lightly. "Show us."

Looking between the two men you adored, fighting through the tears that still blurred your vision, you gave up. You began to pull at the bottom of your T-shirt and slowly dragged it up over your body, revealing more of your marred body to them until you were stood entirely topless, your arms instinctively covering your breasts. Your scars and bruises would be completely on show and your disfigured shoulder, open to their gaze. You can't look, care face looking at the disgust on their faces, horror, shock, regret; whatever it was that they would be showing in their expressions.

Your eyes fly open when you feel two delicate kisses pressed against the scarred flesh of your shoulder and you look up just in time to see them both pulling away, having pressed a delicate kiss to different parts of your shoulder. Your lip wobbles again but it's not over sadness or devastation anymore, but rather heartfelt gratitude at their tenderness.

"How did it happen princess?"

"Snake," you sigh, reaching for the T-shirt you'd stripped before placing it over your breasts to cover yourself as you sat on the edge of the bed. "That night in Godric's Hollow, it's was Christmas Eve and Harry wanted to visit his parents' graves. There was someone watching us, an old woman from the side of the graveyard. Harry recognised her as Bathilda Bagshot. She didn't speak but led us away, back to her house. She took Harry upstairs whilst he was trying to question her so me and Hermione stayed downstairs to look around. And then I saw it," you paused, feeling naseuous at having to experience it all over again in your mind, the sight and the smell making you pale. "There was blood everywhere, flies, everything was rotting. Then there was a bang and I ran upstairs to Harry, just in time to see Nagini slither out from Bathilda's dead body. It was awful, the smell, the sound. She attacked Harry to I stepped in to block him and she lunged at me, sinking her teeth into my shoulder and dragging me down the hole where the stairs had been. I managed to get away and Hermione blasted us out of there but she's already passed the venom through."

You look nervously at Fred, preparing for him to walk away again but he doesn't, instead he crouches down beside the bed so that you're roughly the same height and presses a kiss to your forehead.

"Hermione tried everything to get the venom out, my shoulder was burning, turning black, but nothing worked until extracted it by hand. I got the venom out but it never healed, burning all the time and then the connection happened." You looked between them, seeing them listening intently, encouraging you to go on. "That's the reason it had to be me killing the snake, things started happening, I could connect with her, see what she was seeing."

You began crying again, sobs making your chest heave as you relived the moment again, "I had to watch as she killed Severus, I was in her body, her mind, I could feel everything, it was like I was killing him."

A large sob wracked through you as your mind replayed that moment with excruciating detail. You could still feel the force of it within you, the fangs sinking into his flesh, the blood-thirst she'd felt. Fred lunged forward and pulled you into his chest, his big hands covering you at George still absently stroked your back, up your spine.

You sniffled and pulled back after a few moments, seeing tears in Fred's eyes and George's as your gaze flickered between them.

"It's why I kept passing out, every time Voldemort or Nagini tried to connect my shoulder would burn," you explained, feeling bad for keeping them in the dark all this time.

"Has it stopped now?" George asks delicately and you nod, pulling the T-shirt up to cover yourself further after it had slipped when Fred hugged you.

"Yeah, I'm just me now."

"Wouldn't want it any different," George says, not missing a beat.

"I'm so sorry for all of this," you say, not stopping even when they begin to argue, "for leaving, for keeping you in the dark, I never wanted any of that." You turn to George, addressing him specifically, "I know things weren't great between us when I left, I'm sorry that I left without explaining or sorting things, I never wanted you to think I'd left because of that."

He gives you a little one sided smile and moves closer, "it's all done now, and all of that was my fault. I figured you wouldn't want me anymore, that I'd always be the one you were stuck with and I couldn't bear to see it on your face so I pulled away." He crouches down beside Fred in near identical positions, "sound familiar?"

You bite your lip and nod, briefly looking at the beside clock, seeing that it was now approaching 5am.

"Shall we get some sleep? We can talk more tomorrow if everyone wants to," Fred suggests, making you nod. You weren't overly tired anymore but lying down in bed and resting did sound appealing. George agrees and rubs at his eyes, only now allowing himself to look tired.

You stand slowly from the edge of the bed and the T-shirt you had draped around your chest is pulled away quickly, making you squeal and rush to conceal yourself. You look to see Fred with a playful smirk, laughing as he holds onto your T-shirt defiantly, eyes glinting in delight. You laugh along, the first proper, honest laugh you'd let out and playfully paw at him to get it back. His little act has worked to break any tensions that had remained from the heaviness of the conversation and you continue to laugh as you grab for the shirt in his hands.

He gives it back to you immediately, not wanting to push boundaries and you slipped the T-shirt back on, not caring that you'd be inadvertently flashing them.

You look up again and they're smiling at you and everything suddenly feels better again as you all climb into bed, resuming your regular positions, just like normal.

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[fire-hashira]

Where the wind blow Tot musica

days went darker, the harassment got worse, the lies became more and more bullshit, r/n had the brothers wrapped around her finger and was dedicated to ruining mc's image, yet everyone else saw right through, mc was fine with it, till it slowly got more downhill, weeks and weeks of being pushed aside for the family they sacrificed so much for, mc was starting to lose it, yes they had Diavolo, Barbatos, Thirteen, Simeon, Luke, and Solomon, but the demons they considered family?? the brothers?? it was hurting them, they were used to being abandoned, but to be replaced, treated like a family therapist only to be thrown aside, mc was sick and tired of it all

Soon, their birthday comes around, and Diavolo arranges a ball just for mc, which was slowly ruined by the brother's antics, and them trying to make it about r/n, who enjoys the attention and smirks at mc. mc was tired of it, all of it, the bullying, the lies, the unfair treatment, what did they do to deserve such treatment, mc was a good friend, they listened, they helped, they put the brothers before themselves again, and again, Diavolo even pointed it it out but nothing works, bless his heart, mc told him that they would deal with it, which is exactly what they're about to do, mc had the perfect song for tonight.

walking to the center of the stage they used her devil fruit powers to bring out three magical song sheets and activate they most powerful one, as the music suddenly played around the room, the room slowly goes dark, and an evil smirk came to show as they begin their song of ruin, taking a deep breath as they laughed in a unhinged manner before singing.

"ᚷᚨᚺ ᛉᚨᚾ ᛏᚨᚲ ᚷᚨᚺ ᛉᚨᚾ ᛏᚨᛏ ᛏᚨᛏ ᛒᚱᚨᚲ" ᚷᚨᚺ ᛉᚨᚾ ᛏᚨᚲ ᚷᚨᚺ ᛉᚨᚾ ᛏᚨᛏ ᛏᚨᛏ ᛒᚱᚨᚲ Wandering heart, clouds above Rain begins to fall down My bitter tears flowing out, they never dry up I let the words of a curse be my deliverance ᛗᛁᛖ ᚾᛖᚷ ᛟᚾ ᚷᛁᛖᚲ ᚷᛁᛖᚲ ᚾᚨᚺ ᛈᚺᚨᛋ ᛏᛖᛉᛉᛖ ᛚᚨᚺ These ancient words like a hymn of reclamation Not even death will escape them"

As mc continued to sing, the atmosphere changed more and more, the anger in her voice creating an air of tension and guilt as Diavolo glared at the brothers, yelling at them for what they have done and look how far they've pushed mc, as they sing the ground shakes and cracks, as claws slowly began to tear the ground apart, mc smirked as a monster came from the ground, awakened by her song, ready to cause chaos, a bubble being created as it pushed Diavolo, Simeon, Luke, Solomon and Thirteen away, only leaving the brothers and r/n with mc, as they continued singing, the monster flew around, making them see through mc's memories, as the monster was controlled by mc, and they wanted the brothers to see everything r/n had done weather they like it or not

"How to center these troubled thoughts? I pray Can the future bring calm to the sea? I beg"

The bubble began to crack, as mc's anger was proving to be too strong, tot musica creating piano key like monsters to replay the insults they've suffered, mc smirked as they demonic spells were no use, their demon forms not intimidating, it was all coming together as they laughed, watching the brothers and r/n listen to their own words and r/n's lies, it was the perfect birthday gift, mc watched for hours as they were almost driven to madness, their own words replayed again and again, as Mc sang as the bubble continued to crack, slowly laughing as they contained to sing

"happy birthday to me"

[catsafari25]

A/N: Hello, hello, I am back! This time with an au inspired by @bionicle-ramblings post here, specifically about what might have happened had Matau not been able to talk Vakama down from his Hordika side. This turned into 3K words, so heads up for that. (Apologies in advance for the angst!)

x

Too far above the ground, Matau waits for the killing blow that never comes.

His claws are weak-numb, dug into the ledge of the coliseum balcony, and in the bowels of the area below the battle still rages. From all the way up here, it's almost muted, like the backfiring of a hundred small exhaust pipes.

If he falls, he won't have to worry about the battle. Or anything else. Not for long enough to matter, anyway.

And still, Vakama doesn't come to finish him off.

Matau's grip slips further towards the edge, the ground beckons him a little bolder, and he doesn't have time to play it safe. He swings his fang blade up, and his claws lose their hold but the blade hits true. It slices into the stone, snagging him in place. He slams into the coliseum wall – but it's better than the ground. Still, he mutters a few ungainly curses and doesn't move immediately. He tries not to think about the long fall below. Tries not to think about the crazed brother above. Fails on both counts.

Only one is going to definitely kill him though.

The other... well. He's still working on that.

He hauls himself up the rest of the way. It's an ungainly process, his fang blade is attached to the stone – and he's attached to his fang blade, so...

It's also a quiet affair. There comes no bloodthirsty snarl, no flare of blazer claws going for his face. Nothing – save for his near fall and the scorch marks in the floor – to indicate Matau had been fighting for his life only seconds before.

It's nice, not dying. Matau's not going to deny that.

Odd, though.

The Vakama he had known would never have walked away before he was sure the job (the job being murdering a brother, but Matau tries not to dwell on that) was done. It's something to do with the mask-maker's perfectionism. You can't make mistakes with a mask; even a single crack will render it unusable. (Not like test-driving. If a lone dent could put a vehicle out of commission, none of the drives Matau had taken would have passed.)

He had at least expected some gloat-threat. Some rubbing it in Matau's face that he had lost and Vakama had won. Is that in Vakama's nature? Gloating?

One thing is for sure: taking it as read that a job is done without checking? That certainly isn't in Vakama's nature.

Which leaves Matau wondering...

What has been left in its stead?

x

Missing maniacal brother or not, Matau has his other brothers and sister to also worry about. And they are not winning this battle.

As he descends – no sign of Vakama – he sees the remains of Keetongu. Alive, but in no state to fight. Beside it is the ittier-bittier remains of who Matau can only assume is (or was, he supposes) Sidorak. Fragments of cracked red armour are scattered across the battle field. An arm – still with the blade attached – lies clear of the damage, whole but unmoving.

Matau skirts round that particular scene. Even the Visorak give the shattered ground a wide berth, steering clear of the corpse of their king and his killer.

The cacophony of spinners and blasts settles. There comes a ringing in Matau's ears, like the auditory equivalent of looking from from a bright light and blinking away the negative image. There's still the gnash and skitter of the Visorak, but it is nothing compared to the chaos of before.

And then he sees the cause of the quietening.

In the centre of the arena, the other Toa and Rahaga are surrounded. Their weapons are lowered, their spinners still, and the battle is over. It had been a reckless last-charge anyway. Maybe if they had been Toa, not Hordika... Maybe if they had had more time to plan... Maybe if Vakama had been with them–

Something – no, someone slams into Matau. He hadn't even realise he'd frozen until suddenly he isn't anymore. He slams into the ground, mask-first. There are claws digging into his left shoulder. An unlit blazer claw into his right.

His rhotuka spinner flares into life instinctively. It rises to attack and smacks into his attacker's face. The claws – both kinds – loosen enough for Matau to shake free and spin to face the culprit.

Vakama snarls at him.

There's something different about the once-Toa – he's hunched further, weight distributed evenly between all four limbs, the eyes dulled – but then the blazer claw is coming for Matau again and he has other things to think about. Namely, not getting barbecued. Matau skips back. The attack was clumsy. Unplanned.

"Come on, firespitter, you can do better than that," Matau goads before common sense can intervene. "You really think a swipe like that's gonna get me?"

Vakama growls and leaps at Matau – further than Matau thinks possible, like a muaka – and Matau drops down, kicking with his feet to deflect the blazer claw. Heat skims the side of his mask.

Too close.

He catches sight of his friends, still surrounded, still surrendered, and now with a newcomer – a tall (ridiculously tall, really; who needed that much height?) grey figure parading before them. A leader? Important, surely.

Dangerous, certainly.

He sees Vakama's rhotuka spinner light up, and stumbles back before the blast can hit its mark.

"We don't have time for this, Vakama," Matau stresses, and desperation edges his voice with a growl. "If we don't do something soon – if you don't snap out of this – the other Toa are gonna be history!"

Another spinner flies past. This one close enough to sear the corner of his shoulder. And still that tall figure looms before his friends, paying little heed to the fight ongoing at the far side of the arena.

Vakama takes advantage of Matau's distraction and closes the gap between them. The blazer claw swipes down. Matau only just grabs Vakama's arm in time, and the fused weapon flares, the flames close enough for Matau to feel the heat.

"I'm sorry," he gasps, "for doubting you! We all make mistakes, Vakama; that's what happens when you're brave enough to make decisions! I understand that now."

The only reply Matau receives is the fire inching steadily closer and another wordless growl. His feet scuff in the dust, and he feels himself slide back.

"You're our leader, Vakama! You're my leader! The others are depending on you – dammit, Vakama, say something!"

Vakama roars, and Matau's grip finally gives. He tries to duck out of the way as the flame bears down on him – but is too slow. The blaze brushes past his cheek and red-hot pain blossoms in its wake.

Matau staggers back and presses his hand against the burn. It's not gone deep enough to crack the mask, but he can feel the protodermis is rough, a thin melted mark across his cheek. Nausea rises through him. He blinks, and looks back to Vakama – expecting, hoping to see his horror mirrored back at him – after all, he was a mask-maker, surely he realises, surely he knows what he could have done – and the blazer claw is coming for him again.

A small, pathetic sound struggles in the back of Matau's throat, but he reels back just in time. His hand is still against his mask, while his eyes...

His eyes are trained on Vakama's.

There is something wrong with Vakama's eyes. Something more than just the rage or the adrenaline. Something, even, more than the venom-green colour. The irises are too full, too wide; they eclipse the eye entirely.

Like an ash bear's.

He realises it's been an awfully long time since he heard his brother speak.

Another blow comes slamming towards him, and Matau responds on instinct, releasing an air spinner that strikes into Vakama. The Toa Hordika is torn off his feet and smacks into the wall of the arena. He collapses to the ground. Still conscious but slow to regain his footing.

"Say something, Vakama," Matau says, softer than before. Toa don't beg, but maybe... maybe Hordika do. "Please."

A venom-green eye glares at Matau. There is blind rage and wordless aggression in those depths. But no intelligence. Matau's seen those eyes before, on rahi, on monsters.

They don't belong on a Toa.

Vakama pushes himself back to his feet – all four of them – and Matau braces himself for the fresh slew of attacks. Is this their destiny? To war like this until one brother destroys the other? Can Matau even bring himself to fight – to not only defend, but fight with the aim to win?

He flinches at the sound of a spinner firing, but Vakama's rhotuka spinner is still idle. There comes another whirr, and Matau glances back to the source.

The other Toa have fired on the tall figure. A last-ditch attempt? He hears the stranger's cackle, their form crackling with energy. Four elemental attacks, and they shrug it off with a laugh? The Toa's combined powers had taken down the Makuta; was this being really as powerful as him?

A spinner fires up, closer to home, and he ducks as the blast goes wide over his head. A reckless, probably getting-self-killed plan fits into place – but it's not as if he's swimming in options.

He starts a sprint towards his friends. Vakama is hot on his tail – too hot – and Matau drops onto all four limbs in an attempt to keep ahead. He zig-zags, hoping that's enough to keep him from being fried-burnt.

Le-Matoran are quick thinkers. They aren't necessarily forward-thinkers, but in the spur of the moment they can react in a flash. That's fine. Matau doesn't need to think that far ahead; his lifespan is probably a matter of minutes anyway. He just needs to survive at least those few minutes.

A blast flies a hand's breadth from his head.

Okay, seconds. He just needs to survive the next few seconds. Realistic goals.

He's close enough to hear the stranger's gloating now – Roodaka, that's her name – her voice crackling in a manner that might be her natural voice or the elemental energy racing across her armour. He hears Vakama's spinner powering up again, and he straightens his course.

All the better to aim at.

Le-Matoran are quick-thinkers. That's why they so often take the role of test-drivers. And Matau was one of their best.

He hears the shift in the rhotuka as it releases the spinner – and swerves at the last second. The heat burnishes his arm, but the full force slams into Roodaka. She staggers back. The crackling energy takes on a frantic pace, flooding her eyes and her heartlight, and still she does not fall.

Well, Matau's going to see if he can change that.

Distantly, he hears a shout – one of the Rahaga? – but he's already releasing an air spinner that buckles Roodaka. The light fades from her, and when she hits the ground – already lifeless – that energy bursts free from her like an earthquake. It rises up and forms a hand Matau only remembers in brief flashes of horror, a hand of darkness and shadow that engulfs Roodaka's body and leaves only a hollow heartstone in its place.

Belatedly, Matau recalls his pursuer, but he needn't have worried. Vakama has frozen, his rhotuka spinner still whirring but not firing up. He stands apart from the other Toa, and at this proximity the changes are undeniable. His eyes are lost, confused; how much of what he's just seen even makes sense to him anymore?

Nokama is the first to step forward. Her hands are raised as if trying to calm a wild rahi. Does she even realise she's doing it, Matau wonders. "Vakama," she says, and there's a shake in her voice that betrays maybe she does know. "It's alright, it's over–"

Vakama's gaze snaps to Nokama and she freezes. She sees it now too: the lack of recognition. The senselessness. A sound catches at the back of her throat. It sounds like heartbreak. It's that heartbreak that leaves her too slow to register Vakama's spinner starting up, that leaves her not wanting to comprehend what her own brother means to do, until a black blast slams into Vakama. Its energy crackles over him, paralysing him and the light dulls from those altered, rahi eyes.

"It's only temporary," Bomonga says, when eyes turn to him and his powering-down rhotuka. "Not a long-term solution. But it'll keep him from hurting anyone. For now."

The Visorak around them rumble. And then, with both king and viceroy dead, and their commander nothing more than a beast, they abandon what is left of their crumbling hierarchy.

Norik's saying something, something about the Makuta and released and danger, but Matau can only stare at the paralysed, inanimate form of Vakama. "We defeated the hordes, right?" he says suddenly, cutting off Norik. "We did what Keetongu said we needed our Hordika sides to do, so now it's time to return us to our old selves, isn't it?"

Norik falters. He looks to where Keetongu lies. Onewa and Whenua are already helping the rahi to its feet, and it emits that strange, multi-toned speech in reply.

"Keetongu says that he can turn you back, if you so wish," Norik translates.

"And... Vakama?" Nokama asks.

Even to Matau, Keetongu's reply sounds... stinted.

"Keetongu says," and Norik hesitates. The Rahaga suddenly looks tired. Spent. "He says the Hordika venom runs too deep in Vakama. There is nothing Keetongu can do for him now."

"There must be something!" Matau demands. "He wouldn't give up on us – not if he was still himself – so we can't give up on him!" The other Toa are staring at him – no, not just at him, he realises, at his mask. He claps one hand defensively to the burn streak. "I'm okay!" he snaps. "It's Vakama we should be worried about!"

Nokama reaches out. Her fingers falter, as if afraid of what she might find. "Did... Did Vakama do that to you?" she asks.

Matau recoils back. "It's nothing. I told you, I'm okay. I'm fine. What are we going to do about Vakama?"

The other Toa exchange glances.

"Anyone?" Matau asks.

Onewa and Whenua look away.

"Nokama?" Matau appeals to the Toa who's always preached the virtue of unity, who had been the only one to refuse to believe Vakama could have kidnapped the other Rahaga, even when all the evidence said otherwise.

She doesn't meet his gaze.

If they had seen what Matau had seen, how the conflict had raged in Vakama... but maybe that's the problem. Nokama had seen the shift in Vakama's eyes, the rahi look...

"We can't leave him to run wild," Nuju says, eventually. "Who knows the damage he'll do in this state."

"Maybe one day..." Nokama begins. "Maybe we'll find a way to reverse this."

"And until then?" Nuju asks. "You know things cannot stay as they are."

"Maybe they don't have to," Whenua says. The others look to him, and his face is wretched. "In the Archives, we have a... a way of dealing with rahi without killing them."

Nuju is the first to realise Whenua's meaning. He doesn't flinch, but – if it's somehow possible for the usually immovable Toa – he freezes. "The stasis tubes."

Whenua nods.

"Wait, wait, wait, hold on," Matau says. "Are you suggest-saying we should put him into one of your display cases?"

"It only sends them to sleep," Onewa says. "Right?"

Whenua's mouth thins, like there is a world of distinction between what the stasis tubes do and sleep. "Close enough," he concedes. "His life functions will be slowed down to the point that he won't need either food or air. He won't be conscious enough to know what's happening."

Nokama places a hand on Matau's shoulder. "This will give us time to find a solution," she says softly. Reasonably, as if trapping a fellow Toa – a brother – like a museum exhibit is a natural thing to suggest. Yet, beneath the grip, Matau can feel a tremor in Nokama's fingers.

"Fine," he spits.

No one moves. No one wants to be the one to place Vakama into a stasis chamber.

Then Onewa steps hesitantly forward and slings an arm beneath Vakama's shoulders and hoists him up. Matau knows he should help, but by the time he has found the courage to move, Nokama is already supporting Vakama's other side.

x

Stasis tubes really doesn't do the devices justice. Tubes sounds like something small, compact. Round, now Matau thinks about it. But the machines that Whenua leads them to are more like glass cages. There aren't many intact ones left, not after the cataclysm, but he finds a few unused ones in storage and connects it up to a canister of diluted stun gas. Nokama and Onewa gently deposit Vakama's unconscious form onto the tube's base.

No one says anything.

The double-shell rises up and about its captive specimen resident and there comes the hiss of the stun gas filling the tube.

And Vakama's eyes begin to flicker back to life.

"Can't you speed the process up?" Onewa asks.

"It's gas," Whenua shoots back. "I can't pour it out any quicker. What do you want me to do, change the law of physics?"

Vakama reels. He lurches to his feet, but enough of the stun gas has already entered his system to send him off-kilter. He slams into the inner shell, a growl tearing from his throat, and miniscule hairline fractures scatter across the shell. He raises his right arm, blazer claw flaring into flames, and the Toa wait for the freeing blow that never comes.

Instead, Vakama sways.

The blazer claw dips against the inner shell of the tube, extinguished, and his hand – clawed, jointed in the wrong places – rests beside it. His shoulders hunch, but in the way of one overcome with exhaustion, and his breathing slows. His hand uncurls and, if only in passing, nearly looks like it once had.

And he looks to the Toa.

Really looks.

Before the light fades from his eyes, Matau almost thinks he sees the ghost of a smile, small and sad, flicker across Vakama's face. Almost enough to make Matau believe his brother falls into oblivion with relief.

And then the light – and everything that was once Vakama – vanishes.

"Do rahi in stasis chambers..." Matau falters. He stares at the motionless form of their leader, their brother. Vakama is not like Matau; he wasn't always in motion – not physically, anyway. But his mind had always been racing. Too much, sometimes. Thoughts and visions and fears crowding round in a single head, and now...

It feels almost unnatural that he should be so still.

Matau tries again.

"Are they aware?"

"I think they sometimes dream," Whenua replies.