#ever had a chance at forming a bond with as he grew up. if it weren't for noel's disappearance & nicholas' attempts for the heart

[datastate]

oh also i haven’t mentioned this yet bc a lot of my liveblogging/thoughts has just been kept between my siblings and i lately but it’s both funny and hurts my heart to see sirius act like this :’]

he does keep associating the event with lady dorothy, and that is in part why he’s so visibly panicked, but it’s also because he still. cares about claire... even if he doesn’t want to admit it, or doesn’t fully recognize it. he is going out of his way trying to keep her safe even though noel didn’t tell him to do any of this and didn’t even expect sirius would believe him. sirius in these attempts has gone so far that he doesn’t even consider that he would be killed with claire should it come down to it.

[azrielstaylorsversion]

Scars to match mine

Azriel x reader | angst

Warnings: torture, burns

Part 2

When Y/N is captured by the Autumn Court they try to torture information out of her. But what better way to torture someone than with fire?

I woke up with a pounding headache. The world around me was dark. I tried to gather my thoughts, remembering where I was.

The last thing I remembered was being outside in the Autumn Court. Gathering information on their movements. Then I was attacked. It all came back to me now.

I groaned, trying to sit up. My arms and legs hurt, like I had been thrown in here. I managed to get to my feet, in need of finding a way out.

I tried reaching out to my mate, but like I expected, there was no sign of the bond.

That was a good thing, I reminded myself. This would mean Azriel would know something was wrong. He knew about my whereabouts. He would come looking for me. I just had to be patient.

I slumbed back against the cold wet wall of the cell I was currently in. It wasn't big. There was nothing but stone in here, along with a strong steel door leading to god knows where.

A sigh escaped my lips, trying to ignore the pain in my body.

I couldn't wait to get home to Azriel, to just get this over with. Rhys would probably give me a lecture about being stupid, even though he never meant it. This time it had really been my fault. I knew I was getting to close, the possibility of being attacked very high.

The door to my cell unlocked, thrown open, revealing one of the sons of the Autumn Court.

I didn't move an inch, keeping my eyes on him and the two guards behind him at all times.

"Good. You're awake." he exclaimed rather happily.

I didn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction. I just kept staring ahead.

He moved his head to the guards. "Haul her up." he ordered them. They did as they were told.

A small flash of panic went through my body, but I pushed it down.

Their hands were harsh against my body, certainly trying their best to leave bruises. I stood out of free will, but they still kept their strong hold on my body.

"So, you care to explain your plans?" the Autumn son asked.

I stared at him, keeping my mouth shut. He would be a fool if he thought I was going to answer his question. I've been through worse things than torture. This was nothing compared to that.

"Well, if you aren't going to talk I unfortunately have to hurt you." he said with a smile. "But I will try it without that one more time."

He opened his hand, a small ball of fire forming inside of it. I did my best to hide the flicker of fear flashing through me.

Knives, whips, beatings. I could take all of that. But fire.. Fire was one of the worst kinds of torture. Especially with what happened to my mate.

"Tell me why Rhysand send you. What are you doing here?" he tried again.

I let out a small laugh which sounded more like a huff. "You really are dumb." I said to him. He looked offended.

Good.

"I would rather die or be tortured for years then tell you anything about the Night Court." I told him.

His smile disappeared at that. "I kind of wished you would've just answered the question right away. Now I need to ruin your pretty body." he said, his lips tilting upward again.

The ball of fire in his hands grew. A sickening feeling filled my body.

"I think you would like some matching scars with your mate, won't you?" he told me happily.

This time I didn't hide my fear. I thrashed against the hands that held my body, but they were to strong. I couldn't move.

I tried to move my hands away, but one of the guards held them up. There was no way in moving them.

In panic I tried to reach for the bond, only to remember it wasn't there.

Yet I kept screaming Azriel's name in my head, hoping for a small way through the blockage.

He now held the fire dangerously close to my hands. The warmth was terrible.

"One last chance."

"No." I said firmly, preparing myself for the pain to come.

He moved my hands into the ball of fire. Excruciating pain filled my body. Worse than ever.

I cried out, not even trying to hide my pain.

The male was laughing as I kept screaming, begging him to stop.

Everything after happened so fast. I couldn't remember if it had been a few seconds or minutes.

Flashes of blue crossed my vision along with the red of blood.

I fell to the ground, curling up to myself, trying to somehow push my hands away. To get rid of the terrible pain that lingered.

Everything was blurred. But one thing I knew, was that the hands that picked me up were familiar. The voice talking me through my pain was familiair. It was nice.

I could vaguely remember flying. The next vague memory I had was of entering a house, voices yelling and people gathering around me.

I remember telling someone I felt so much pain. I also remember that someone telling me I was going to be okay. That he loved me so much and he wouldn't leave my side.

It was only when someone started touching my hands that I lost consciousness.

The thing I do remember is waking up. My eyes flickered open slowly to find the sun setting outside.

I looked around in confusion. I was in my room. In my bed. Mine and Azriel's.

A warm hand was placed on my arm. I turned my head to find my mate smiling at me. "Are you feeling okay?" he asked gently.

I nod, a bit unsure, still having to process most of it.

His hands cupped my face. "I'm so sorry about what happened. And I'm so glad you're okay."

I smiled at him, lifting a hand to touch his face... only to find it wrapped in a thick bandage. Both my hands.

Realization flashed through me, along with panic and a bit of pain.

Azriel immediately reached for me. "Hey, don't panic. It's okay. I'm here." he told me, staying perfectly calm.

"I-.." I couldn't find my words. "I can't feel anything." I decided on.

Azriel gave me a sad smile. "Madja gave you something strong against the pain. That's the reason you don't feel your hands." he said. "Hopefully.." he added quietly. He didn't need to explain what he meant by that.

Azriel's warm smile had disappeared from his face, sadness having taken over.

"Is it bad?" I questioned quietly.

"Yes. It will hopefully heal with time, but the scarring will stay. It will probably look something like my hands." he explained to me softly.

I always thought Azriel's scars were beautiful. But I never thought I would have to live with them myself. This felt different.

"I will not love you differently because of your scars." he told me, his hand on my cheek. He must've felt my negative thoughts.

"He told me we would have matching scars." I said, not even sure why I was telling him this.

Azriel's body stiffened. He shifted a few seconds later, the bed dipping slightly from his weight. He wrapped his strong arms around me carefully, tugging me into his chest. I gladly let him as I kept staring at the wall in front of me.

"Do not think differently about yourself. I know how hard it is, I've been there. I will help you through it, like you have helped me through it."

I snapped my attention back to Azriel, my eyes locking with his. I nodded, knowing and feeling he meant every word.

I buried my face in his chest, trying not to cry.

He held me tightly, his hands moving up and down my body while whispering sweet words in to my ears which eventually lulled me back to sleep again.

[peachdues]

HEARTBALM

Kyojuro x Reader (modern AU NSFW)

A/N: I have COVID brain fog and it shows. You legally can't hold how bad this is against me. But if you somehow like it, likes/reblogs/comments, always appreciated! I promise I'm saving Netherwood for when I've recovered lmao.

This is like a Frankenstein-fulfillment request of several of my 2K event requests. So if you asked for Kyojuro and any of the prompts involving “please let me cum in you” or “woah, woah, I’m here. I’m right here,” congrats! This is for you. I’m sorry it’s ass.

CW: angry/possessive Kyojuro • mentions of toxic/slightly verbally abusive ex boyfriend • ex boyfriend gets decked • explicit sexual content • breeding kink • creampies • car sex • MDNI.

Everything was too loud and too close. You swore you felt a dozen pairs of eyes burning holes into you with such intensity that you were surprised you were still standing, rather than folding over like a piece of Swiss cheese. The judgment in their gazes felt like a blade against your throat, the cold sting imploring you to fold, to disappear.

There was no air in your lungs, so before you could choke in front of all of your ex-boyfriend’s cronies and friends, you turned and did as cowards did; you ran.

You pushed and shoved your way through the thick crush of bodies that had gathered in this small, off-campus house for the last party of the semester, the last chance for them all to let loose before their lives became a flurry of final exams and papers and discarded coffee cups in dimply lit corners of the campus library. You’d thought it would be your chance to relax, too, after the hair-pulling stress that had been the last month and a half of your life. Stress, that had been expounded upon by the simpering, smarmy asshole you’d once called your boyfriend, who now stared after your retreating form with a vicious grin, apparently pleased to have gotten under his former girlfriend’s skin once more.

There was a buzzing beneath your skin that would not quiet, that seemed to only grow hotter and more incessant as you navigated the maze of bodies and tables set for beer pong in this labyrinth of college-aged debauchery. In the three minutes you’d been darting and ducking around what had to be half of the Ubayashiki University student body, you’d not seen a friendly or familiar face once.

Where was Kyojuro?

You needed to find your sun. You needed your kind, supportive, and steadfast best friend who’d been glued to your side ever since freshman orientation, when you’d shyly approached him and asked if you could eat lunch beside him, feeling too nervous to risk approaching anyone else. He’d laughed, warm and welcoming, as he made room at his table for you, welcoming you with such sincerity and kindness that it was no wonder that you and so many others were drawn to him.

And though Kyojuro treated almost everyone as though they’d been best friends for years, you had been the only one in your orientation group that he’d allowed to truly get to know him. Whether it was during a morning stroll through the campus green as you made your way to your early morning classes, or pressed up against the greasy wall of the grill as you waited for the fry cook to call out your orders, the walls Kyojuro had so carefully crafted to conceal the tempest of passion and fire that raged beneath his dazzling smiles and loud, booming laughs began to peel back, and you saw him for what he truly was.

Truthfully, the more he showed you, the more you wanted; he was a riddle you would never tire of working out, a puzzle you hoped never to solve, even as the pieces fell faster and faster into place.

As your circle of friends grew, your bond only strengthened. It was Kyojuro you called when you found out your beloved childhood dog passed away, hardly able to speak through the tears as they streamed down your face. It was Kyojuro who had all but sprinted from his residence hall to yours, well across campus, with three pints of your favorite ice cream in tow, and who’d let you eat your fill until your stomach was full and the emptiness in your heart had subsided.

And it was you who Kyojuro had called to come join him as he’d smoked a rare cigarette, hands shaking with both his hurt and his anger after a particularly nasty call from his father.

And yet, you’d never dated; you’d never escalated your friendship beyond a few, charged moments that had been marked only by a series of almost and never anything completed.

He wasn’t a fan of your ex-boyfriend; that much he’d made clear. Though Kyojuro had never been one to be unkind towards anyone, you hadn’t missed the way his eyes tightened any time your ex let a door slam in your face or ignored your hand in favor of his phone. Kyojuro hadn’t been shy to let you know that he thought you deserved better – far better.

You’d wanted to ask him whether he thought better was with him, because you knew deep in your heart, if he asked, you would be his; but you never built up the courage to ask, and so you quashed these feelings down deep, hiding them away in a locked chest never to be opened.

Then, you’d finally broken up with your ex only a month prior after discovering he’d cheated on you with no shortage of other students on campus, everyone but you apparently having been in on the cruel joke. Kyojuro had been one of the few steadfastly in your corner, insistent that you’d done nothing wrong, no matter how many times your ex tried to claim you’d pushed him into sleeping with half the student body.

You hadn’t seen your ex, not since you’d coolly told him the pair of you were over, all those weeks ago; not until tonight, when you’d nearly smashed into him while trying to get a drink from the makeshift bar in this strange house you’d never been in.

“Well, well,” your ex-boyfriend had crooned, hand gripping your elbow and keeping you trapped there with him and his smirking pack of hyenas looking at you like you were something to devour. “Did you miss me that much, gorgeous?”

“Get off me,” you’d tried to growl, though the slight wobble in your voice defeated any attempt of yours to be threatening, instead leaving you to come off as a scared little girl, cornered somewhere she shouldn’t have been.

Your ex’s eyes were malicious as they raked over you. “Did you wear that for me, darling?”

He was referring to the red sundress you’d worn, the one you knew made your curves look downright sumptuous, but now you felt like it was a neon sign that read “HARASS ME,” given the hunger in your ex’s eyes that sent your skin crawling. You’d worn it for yourself, to feel confident, only now, you felt like a piece of fruit ripe for plucking, and you’d somehow fallen into the greediest hands on campus.

By divine luck, your ex’s grip on your forearm loosened and you yanked back out of his reach, forgoing the red plastic cup containing whatever grotesque combination of alcohol the party hosts had come up with in favor of putting as much distance as possible between yourself and your ex.

You’d come with Kyojuro and your friend Tengen, but now you couldn’t find either and it only made you feel more lost; more vulnerable. There was a buzzing in your ears that drowned out the pounding base of the music thumping through the blown-out speakers haphazardly set up in the house’s den. Your vision tunneled, and you wondered whether anyone would notice if you dropped to the floor and screamed; if anyone would care.

Stumbling blindly, you smashed into something warm and sold, and it sent you staggering backward.

“Sorry, sorry,” you mumbled, eyes still wide and unfocused as you moved to push past whatever or whomever you’d smacked into, uncaring at the way your torment was surely etched into your face.

“Woah, hey, hey,” a warm hand closed around your arm as you tried to shove past the body, steadying you, locking you into place. “Y/N, look at me.”

The familiarity of the voice and the touch did not register, and you only continued to shake your head, muttering your apologies.

“Woah, woah, woah. I’m here. I’m right here.” Kyojuro caught you by the arm as you tried once more to shove past him in your haste the leave the party you’d stupidly decided to attend. A hand gripped your chin and firmly but gently turned your head up to meet a pair of ochre eyes, running over you in concern.

“Kyo,” you breathed in relief, feeling yourself melt slightly beneath the steadying warmth of your best friend.

Kyojuro’s mouth was set in a hard line. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

You uttered the name of your insufferable ex and Kyojuro’s eyes darkened. “What did he do?”

His hand gripped yours and you were grateful for the way it helped anchor you and kept you from spinning out under the anxious whirlwind of your thoughts. “Nothing, he’s just being an asshole – please, Kyo, can we leave?”

You felt slightly guilty – after all, it was you who’d suggested you all come to this party in the first place, and now you were the one wanting to leave less than an hour later, but it was too much. Surely, your best friend wouldn’t hold your fickleness so terribly against you, not when it wasn’t your fault in the first place that you’d been sent careening toward an anxiety attack.

Kyojuro didn’t hesitate as he nodded. “Just let me find Tengen and I’ll let him know. I’ll drive you home.”

You smiled faintly in relief, squeezing his hand appreciatively before letting him go. The way Kyojuro’s fingers had lingered against yours had made your heart flutter, chasing away thoughts of him, your ex, and replacing them with a shy curiosity that made you want to know what those fingers would feel like if they touched other parts of you.

Or, it may have been the little alcohol you’d ingested coloring your thoughts; after all, you’d hardly eaten that day in preparation for getting properly soused at the party you now were so desperate to leave.

You retreated into the kitchen, near the open door that led out to a finished, in-ground pool in which several other attendees were already swimming, some without clothes on, too lost in whatever beverage or drug they’d ingested to care. You’d thought yourself safe, amidst a crowd of admittedly drunk party-goers, but it seemed not even the threat of onlookers would keep your abrasive ex at bay.

A hand grazed your rear end, and it sent every hair on your body standing. “Why in such a rush to leave, gorgeous?” A sickeningly familiar voice purred in your ear.

You spat your ex’s name with as much vitriol as you could muster as you turned to face him. “I told you not to fucking touch me.”

Your ex placed a hand mockingly against the wall, next to your head as he leaned in close. “What’s wrong, baby?” His breath was rank with the stench of stale alcohol, and it made your stomach churn. “You used to like being manhandled.”

Your face hardened. “Not by you; not anymore.” You swatted his hand away from where he’d boxed you in, eager to put this party and him behind you, where they belonged. “Now, if you’ll excuse me –”

Your ex’s hand seized around your wrist, its grip tight – too tight. “Just hold on, you haughty little thing,” his tone was kept light but the look on his face was menacing. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

You pulled at the hold he had on you but to no avail. Though you were surrounded by other party attendees, you felt alone, more isolated than ever, as countless eyes pointedly ignored your struggle. You were about to open your mouth, to shout, to curse your ex out, when your ex’s hand suddenly released your arm.

“Take your fucking hands off of her.”

Wide-eyed, you looked to see Kyojuro’s considerable fist wrapped tightly around your ex’s forearm, its size dwarfing the limb beneath to look like a mere twig. Kyojuro’s eyes, normally so inviting and open, had gone hard and black, his jaw stiff with his ire. Though the cold rage contorting your best friend’s face was not directed at you, its sudden manifestation from your otherwise sunny, warm, and gentle friend made you recoil.

“Kyo,” you started, voice low in warning as your eyes darted between the lethal anger simmering on Kyojuro’s face and the infuriatingly smug look on your ex’s, as he smirked at the burly blonde.

“I don’t think this concerns you, Rengoku,” your former boyfriend simpered, a challenge lighting his eyes as he jerked his chin towards you. “This is between me and her, pure and simple.”

Desperately, you glanced around the room hoping to find any of your other friends who could step in, who could intervene before things turned too ugly. Mercifully, you locked eyes with Tengen, who was just on the other side of the pool, grabbing another drink. Eyes wide, you looked back and forth between Kyojuro and your silver-haired friend, hoping he understood your silent plea.

A curt nod from your friend communicated he had, and Tengen quickly began pushing through the throng of people who had begun to coalesce around the edge of the pool as they watched the pair of men engaged in a stare-off beside you.

Kyojuro raised his head slightly, looking down upon the man you used to claim to love in disgust. “Any yet she told you to leave her alone. Are we having listening problems?”

A sardonic smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Perhaps I can help you with that.”

Your ex’s eyes cut back to you, a sneer curling his lip. “Figures,” he spat, his tone full of acid. “Not even a month broken up and you’ve already spread your legs for him like a fuckin’ whore.”

There was a collective intake of breath from the surrounding spectators as Kyojuro stepped closer to your seething ex, their noses nearly touching as he held his stare.

“Say it again,” Kyojuro said quietly, all traces of that mocking smirk long-gone, replaced only by a malicious glint in his eyes that promised swift violence that had your hand jumping to grip his arm in warning. “Go on.”

Your weak tugs at Kyojuro’s bicep did little to divert his attention. For one, terrifying moment, you feared that blows were imminent, until a painted hand shoved between the two men, pushing Kyojuro back by his chest.

Tengen.

“As much as I hate to break up the fun, I’m sure you don’t want the entire school witnessing you getting your face pounded in,” The silver-haired senior said coolly to your drunk ex.

Kyojuro allowed himself to be pushed back by his friend, though he refused to break the tense stare he held with the man he’d marked as his opponent. “We can work this out anytime, it doesn’t have to be here,” he taunted with a jeering smirk. “But stay the fuck away from her.”

“Don’t try and fucking tell me how to talk to my ex-girlfriend,” your former lover spat, taking an unsteady step towards the three of you. “Why’re you standing up for the bitch, anyways? The whore has kept stringing you along for god knows how long without putting out –“

His drunken ramblings were cut off by a sickening crunch of bones beneath a fist that seemed to echo through the crowded backyard. Onlookers stared in shock as your ex staggered back, hands flying to staunch the crimson now coursing from his broken nose, curses thick and garbled slipping from his mouth as it filled with blood.

“Shit.” Tengen breathed, his eyes wide.

A dozen pair of eyes turned towards you and your best friend, round with shock as an uncomfortable buzz settled into the thick, night air. Kyojuro was panting, the skin of his knuckles stained with blood from his split skin and that of your ex’s as he stared at your flame-haired friend.

“I warned you,” Kyojuro’s tone was almost jovial but its cheerfulness was undercut by his glower. “Watch your fucking language when speaking about a lady.”

Your hand clenched at his bicep once more. “Kyojuro, let’s go.”

Your tone snapped him out of whatever cold rage in which he’d been simmering and his amber eyes lifted to meet yours. You did not wait for him to follow as you turned sharply on your heel and stormed out of the house, eyes resolutely focused on the door in order to avoid acknowledging the way dozens of pairs of eyes followed your every step.

---

Your feet hit the pavement of the street outside, the night air cool on your heated skin. You heard the steady beat of your friend’s footsteps behind you, and you whipped around, eyes blazing, and blood boiling.

“What the fuck was that?” You hissed once the two of you were far enough away from the party and any nosy on-lookers as you stalked toward Kyojuro’s car. “Were you trying to get yourself arrested?”

Kyojuro did not answer, the scowl on his face turning into something menacing beneath the flickering lamps lining the crowded street.

“I was handling it just fine, you know, but you had to step in and turn it into a fucking pissing contest –”

“Stop talking, Y/N.” Kyojuro finally snapped, his voice a low growl.

You only seethed. “Who the fuck do you think you are –?”

Your fiery companion only placed a hand firmly at the small of your back and pushed you forward, your feet nearly stumbling to keep yourself upright as he guided you towards your car.

“Kyojuro –” you began, testily.

“Shut up, Y/N.” He cut you off severely. “Just – be quiet and get in the fucking car.”

Something about his tone coupled with the stormy look on his face quieted any further protest you may have had, and you allowed him to forcefully guide you to his car. Kyojuro wrenched the door open and pushed you down into the passenger seat, even taking the time to fasten your seatbelt for you, the brush of his hand against your waist searing into you in a way that made you squirm.

As embarrassing as you found it, you could not deny that your friend’s protectiveness over you stoked something hot and molten in your gut; made your thighs rub together, as your stomach fluttered.

Kyojuro was silent as he drove, the air between you cackling with electricity.

“Have you calmed down?” You asked sarcastically after several minutes of tense silence, unable to stomach the quiet any longer.

Kyojuro’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “I can’t believe you dated something like that,” he ground out, eyes fixed hard on the road ahead of him. “The way he spoke to you just now – that doesn’t come out of nowhere.”

You fidgeted in your seat, fingers playing with the band of the seatbelt as the weight of Kyojuro’s accusation settled.

“That wasn’t the first time, was it?”

Your shoulders curled inward, and you suddenly felt like a cornered animal; you resented him for it. “What does it matter, now? We’re done. It’s over, and I’m not going back.”

Kyojuro pulled sharply off an exit, following a bumpy road to a quiet, darkened overlook that abutted a state park. He stopped the car, slamming it into park as his hands remained tightly curled around the steering wheel, his breath hard and fast in his nose.

“Why did you date him?” His tone was almost accusatory. “He was an asshole from the start, and yet you dated him for almost a year.”

You bit your lip and Kyojuro’s eyes followed the movement closely. “Because I wasn’t sure of another’s feelings.”

Kyojuro exhaled sharply, turning his body more towards you, his eyes locked onto you with searing intensity. “And this other – did you ever confess your true feelings?”

You hesitated for only a moment, shaking your head slightly. You chanced lifting your gaze up to meet his, gulping slightly at the heat which you found there.

There was a beat, and then the two of you surged towards one another over the center console of his car, drawn to one another like a pair of magnets. Your mouths met in a fiery clash of lips and teeth, Kyojuro’s tongue sliding seamlessly into your mouth to dance with yours. His hand rose to tangle in your hare, ensnaring you against him and his fervid touch and desperate lips.

He moaned your name against feverish kisses, his lips only breaking from yours to dance across your jaw, your neck, any part of you he could reach.

He wasn’t close enough; you tugged at the collar of his button down, trying to pull him atop you, to feel if his chiseled body felt as rock-solid as you’d always imagined.

“You’re impatient,” he chuckled against your throat as he sucked his mark into your skin. “Do you want me to keep going?”

Your fingers, buried deep in his flame-colored hair, tugged, insistent. “Yes. Don’t you dare stop now.”

Warm hands gripped your waist and hauled you up out of your seat. Somehow, you were folded in just the right position to be passed over the console of his car, and Kyojuro swiftly tossed you into the back seat of his car. As you panted for breath, the skirt of your sundress rising high up your thighs, Kyojuro clambered over his own seat to join you, pinning you half between the backseat and the car door.

Before he reconnected your lips, Kyojuro’s hands found his way under you once more, deftly maneuvering you until it was he who sat against the backseat of his car, and you were straddled in his lap, chest heaving and cheeks pink.

“Was this your goal?” You teased, and to your delight, you felt something hard begin to press into your groin as your breath mixed with his, a slight fog beginning to condense on the windows. “To have me at your mercy?”

Kyojuro leaned up slightly, brushing his lips against the fluttering pulse point in your neck, smirking against your skin. “If you’re asking whether I took you out of the party with this in mind, then no,”

His hands smoothed up and down your sides before sliding behind you to squeeze your ass, rubbing firmly as he rolled his hips up into yours.

“But if you’re asking if I’ve planned to have you this way at all… then I would say,” he cut himself off as he kissed his way back to your lips, holding back the tantalizing feel of his mouth against yours for a fraction of a second. “That has always been my goal, beautiful. From the moment I first laid eyes on you.”

He kissed you softly then, teeth lightly nipping at your lower lip before he pulled away once more to look over you.

“But I want far more from you, if you’re willing to give it.”

Your heart fluttered in your throat as your legs clenched. You knew there were several meanings to his words — both in terms of the physical and with regard to your long-term relationship.

You settled on his lap, arms looping around his neck as your breath mixed with his, anticipation fluttering in your stomach.

“Kiss me, Kyo.” You whispered, your eyes lowering to his lips.

He regarded you with a half-lidded, lust-filled expression of his own. “Where?”

Your fingers wound in his hair, pulling softly in a way that made him moan. “Everywhere.”

Sturdy yet nimble fingers worked their way up to the buttons on the bodice of your sundress, undoing them with a swiftness you’d not realized he possessed.

The last button undone, Kyojuro brought his hands to the loosened folds of your sundress and pushed them aside, warm hands grazing the sensitive skin beneath.

“Christ, woman,” he groaned as your bare breasts were revealed to him. “You’re killing me.”

You giggled, inwardly glad you’d forsaken wearing a bra beneath the dress, though you certainly hadn’t intended to wind up like this — perched in your best friend’s lap, his growing bulge digging into the sensitive spot between your legs as he leaned in to take one pert nipple into his hot mouth, his hand covering the other breast and rolling it beneath his fingers.

Not a single part of you could bring yourself to regret the decision, however, not as Kyojuro’s teeth grazed your sensitive bud, your head falling back as you pressed your chest against his face, begging him for more.

Kyojuro moaned against your breast, his hand steadily working the other as he nipped and sucked at you, covering your chest in splotches of purple and red, your skin bearing the mark of his teeth as he claimed you.

You ground down against the rigid bulge nestled between your thighs, breath hitching as he pressed against that sensitive spot between your legs, causing a rush of your fluid to surge forth and coat the flimsy lace of your thong.

If you weren’t careful, you’d risk leaving evidence of your desire smeared right on the front seam of his pants. But if Kyojuro cared, he certainly didn’t show it as his free arm looped around your waist to push you down, forcing your groin to mash tightly against his.

Your hands moved desperately down Kyojuro’s front as his mouth continued to work your breasts, until they reached the top of his pants. You fumbled with his belt, determined to loosen it and free the hardened bulge straining against the crotch of his pants.

“You’re so,” Kyojuro panted, his hips twitching up against your touch. “Eager, my flame.”

Your ears perked at the affectionate nickname. “Your flame?” Your lips swept to the side to suck at the side of his neck.

Kyojuro’s head tilted to the side, allowing you more access as he pressed you harder into his face. “Yes, my flame,” he nipped lightly at your pert nipple, just as his fingers slid between your thighs to dance along the sensitive skin between your leg and hip. “Because you make me burn.”

His fingers grazed the front of your thong and Kyojuro groaned at the wetness he felt seeping through the thin lace.You nearly hissed at the contact, grinding yourself against his fingers, beseeching your best friend to give you more, to touch you where you needed him most.

“Kyo,” you whined, head falling back.

“Oh fuck,” Kyojuro slid two fingers beneath the crotch of your underwear, dragging them right up your drenched slit. “You’re wet — so fucking wet.”

“I just want to slide right in,” your friend teased, and his fingers easily breached your entrance, working deep into your opening as you mewled for him. “I bet you could take me just like this.” 

His thumb brushed against your clit as his index and middle finger worked your core, making you stiffen stop him as your breath labored. Kyojuro swore again as he curled his fingers upward, feeling the way your velvet walls clenched around him.

“K-Kyo!” You gasped. “I can’t wait — I need you. Need you now.”

“Then I guess we agree,” Kyojuro growled against your lips as he shifted you beneath him. “Because I can’t wait to be inside you, either.”

Kyojuro spread you out beneath him, against the worn cloth of his backseat. He fumbled above you, trying to contort his large body in the small, cramped space of the back of his car.

His hands moved to loosen his belt and shove the tops of his pants and briefs down his hips, just far enough to let his leaking, stiffened cock spring forth, its tip smacking against his belly. Your mouth watered at the sight, at the thickness of his length, far more than you’d ever encountered before.

Kyojuro smirked at the awe on your face. “Trust I know how to use it, too.”

You flushed dark at the boldness with which he spoke, though your voice somehow remained steady. “Then prove it.”

Kyojuro covered you with a low growl, his hands flipping the skirt of your dress out of the way as his fingers slid your thong down your legs, chucking it to the side. He tugged you forward over the seat, a buckle of a seatbelt digging somewhat uncomfortably into your back, though that discomfort was quickly chased away as Kyojuro lined himself up with your entrance and pulled you sharply down, impaling you on his rigid length.

Your scream choked off in your throat as he shifted to press one leg up against the back rest of the seat and used his hands to hold your other open, keeping you spread wide for him. His thrusts were wild and frenzied, though his motions were somewhat limited by the spatial constraints of the backseat of his car. You didn’t care, however; not as his cock pistoned into you so deeply, you swore you saw stars; not as his coarse base ground against your sensitive clit, Kyojuro’s name falling in a repeated whine from your lips.

Kyojuro tried to brace his feet against the rear door for leverage for his thrusts, but each haphazard movement only caused him to grow more frustrated.

He tried to distract himself by pressing his lips bruisingly against yours, but it was not enough. Your flame-haired friend slammed his hand against the roof of his car in frustration.

“Fuck this,” he growled against your lips before he pulled out of you and away. You whined at the loss of his body heat, so warm and all-consuming. The ache between your legs had become nearly maddening as the empty walls of your core now clenched around nothing.

Even in the dark, Kyojuro’s eyes glowed, like pools of molten ore threatening to burn you with their heat as he reached blindly behind him and jerked on the handle of the car door, using his foot to kick it open.

He slid out, his stiffened cock still standing proudly above the loosened waistband of his pants as he rose to his full height. Reaching back into the car, Kyojuro wrapped his strong, warm hands around your knees and tugged you across the backseat toward him until your ass was on the edge of the seat, your legs dangling outside the door, toes just grazing the gravel below.

“Wrap your legs around me,” Kyojuro’s voice was harsh yet commanding, and your compliance was automatic. Your legs instantly wound around his waist, locking at the ankles against his lower back.

His hands then dipped below where you still lay against the worn seat of his car, splaying across your back. His grip secure, Kyojuro hauled you up and out of the back seat, his arms readjusting his hold as his hands came to rest under the skirt of your sundress, fingers kneading the fleshy curve of your ass.

You decided you’d gone far too long without his lips against yours, and so with a needy moan, you slanted her mouth back over his, sighing happily into him as his lips parted to allow your tongue to sweep in and glide alongside his.

So intoxicated were you by his kiss that you did not realize Kyojuro had walked you around to the front of his car, his headlights still beaming bright through the dark of the night air. A startled gasp broke your kiss at the warm press of metal against your back as Kyojuro laid you over the front hood of his car. Your cry of surprise did not seem to faze him, for Kyojuro only moved his lips to sweep across your neck with needy, open-mouthed kisses.

“Much better,” he grunted against your skin, his tongue flicking out against the hollow of your throat.

“K-Kyo!” You hissed, though you found it difficult to actually feel irritated toward the fiery blonde pressing you against the hood of his car – especially given the way his hips ground and bucked against yours. “We’re in the open!”

Kyojuro’s mouth pulled off your neck with a groan as he lifted his head to glare down at you as you panted and blushed beneath him. A hand reached between your bodies to grip the base of his cock, and your eyes nearly rolled back into your skull as you felt Kyojuro begin to drag the leaking head of his length up and down your slick folds, teasing.

“If I’m going to fuck you, I’m going to do it the way I want,” he warned, his voice roughened by raw desire. “I’m not letting myself be held back by a damn car seat.”

Any protestation or witty response you could have lobbed back at him died on your lips as Kyojuro pressed the tip of his cock firmly against your clit. Your head fell back against the hood of the car with a cry, your hips bucking up against his, begging him to take you and end the torment between your legs.

“I don’t want to hear a fucking word out of you that isn’t my name or how good my cock feels, got it?” Kyojuro bent low and took your nipple between his teeth, sucking at it harshly. “Answer me.”

A thumb and a forefinger replaced the head of Kyojuro’s erect length at your clit and squeezed once, in warning.

“Yes!” You yelped, your thighs tightening around his hips in a desperate but futile attempt to clench shut. “I understand – Kyo, please –”

Your begging was cut off with a scream as Kyojuro sheathed himself back into your dripping heat in a single, fluid stroke. Before you could catch your breath, Kyojuro began circling his hips, rolling them heavily against yours.

“That’s it, baby, just feel me,” He murmured, teeth grazing the sensitive shell of your ear.  “God, you feel like fucking heaven.”

“Kyojuro,” you moaned, your eyes rolling heavily back into your skull. “Oh god, more –”

Kyojuro’s answering groans were loud and unrestrained, tempered only by the squeak of his car hood as he brought one knee up to rest upon it, bearing more of his weight down upon you as his thrusts grew harder and harder.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his eyes shut tight. “Fuck, I can’t get enough, I need more –”

His hands gripped your hips with a bruising force as he tiled them further, tugging you flush against his groin with your backside nearly suspended above the car hood. Your moans melted into loud, high-pitched cries as you thrashed against the front of the car, the heels of your feet digging deeper into the steel of Kyojuro’s backside to press him closer, deeper into your velvet heat.

The new angle allowed Kyojuro’s cock to reach parts of you you hadn’t known could be explored, stretching you in ways you hadn’t realized could be stretched. How you’d managed to go so long without knowing the euphoric bliss that was Kyojuro’s body was a mystery you weren’t sure even the most revered philosopher could solve. All you knew, however, as the thick tip of Kyojuro’s cock pressed against something so deep within you it made your eyes roll back and your jaw slacken until drool leaked from the corner of your mouth, was that you could never have anyone else. No one would ever be capable of fucking you the way Kyojuro was right then, and you didn’t think you’d even allow them to try.

Despite your brain having been largely reduced to a puddle of gray matter in your skull with every lurid drag and push of Kyojuro’s cock into your soaked cunt, you forced your mouth to form a single, desperate command.

“More,” you begged, the word slurring off your tongue, breaking up the series of nonsensical babbles that had poured from your mouth the minute Kyojuro decided to mold your insides to the shape of him. “More.”  

“Jesus fuck,” Kyojuro’s jaw was clenched tight enough to crack his teeth, sweat running down his neck and sliding between the mass of his pectorals.

Broad hands slid to the back of your thighs and pushed them up and back until your knees kissed the hood of his car. The new angle allowed Kyojuro to pound even deeper into you, though it simultaneously rendered you utterly helpless to accept the battering of his cock as it rammed so far into you, you swore he would bruise your organs before the night was over.

The new position meant that Kyojuro’s base was pressed flush against your clit, the coarse hair of his groin circling against your sensitive nub as your own slick gathered, making a mess between where the two of you were joined. The stimulation made your toes curl, even as your feet flopped helplessly against Kyojuro’s broad back.

Whatever coil you felt winding tight in your gut, Kyojuro felt gathering as well, given the whimpers and moans that lilted from his lips in strings, his lips working a frenzy against whatever part of you he could reach.

“P-please, Y/N,” his voice broke through the pleasured haze in which you’d found yourself floating as you plummeted back down to earth; to him. “Please let me cum in you. Please.”

“God fucking – please,” Kyojuro groaned, his voice cracking under the weight of his desperation. “I need to fill you. I need it, I need it.”

You didn’t doubt the sincerity of his need; the dull thwap of Kyojuro’s heavy balls against the underside of your ass made it clear your friend was pent up, and desperate to find his release. And that release wouldn’t be nearly as pleasurable if he was forced to waste it over your stomach or breasts as it would be if you allowed him to fill you to your brim.

The answer was easy. “Y-yes,” you found your voice after a moment, though it came out as more of a squeak. “Give it to me, Kyo, please!”

Kyojuro’s lascivious groans deepened, the sounds falling from his mouth more akin to shouts of pleasure. His pace quickened though his rhythm grew sloppier. Kyojuro brought the leg still anchored to the ground up onto the hood of the car and positioned himself in a kneel, spreading his thighs wide and allowing his hips to weigh down heavily against yours as he pinned you in place, rolling into your heat.

“Fill me up, make me yours!” You were babbling now, half-delirious with pleasure and over-stimulation as you felt your orgasm build, the tight coiling in your belly promising to unleash the most powerful climax you’d ever had. “N-no one else has – no one else has – ngh – finished inside!”

A warm hand slid up to your throat and squeezed lightly as Kyojuro’s hips snapped against yours, his groans quieting to mere vibrations in his chest. “Not even – fuck – him?”

You didn’t need to ask him to clarify. “Never!” You gasped, limbs turning to liquid against the light pressure he applied against the sides of your throat. “Only yours – only yours to f-fill!”

Your affirmation made Kyojuro shudder violently above you, and before you knew it, Kyojuro was spilling forth within your core, giving you every drop of his hot seed as his hips rolled heavily into yours.

A broad hand slid down from your throat to rest against the bottom of your stomach and pressed down.

“Take it,” Kyojuro somehow had the presence of mind to speak, even deep in the throes of his climax. “F-feel how much I’m filling you up – oh fuck.”

You could. The weight of his hand against your lower belly pressed your front wall against the spurting tip of his cock as he unloaded deep within your core. And it was precisely because of the way you could feel him painting the inside of your walls that you felt yourself tip over your edge, that coil in your belly not merely unwinding, but breaking wide open.

With a sharp cry, you came, a rush of your sticky pleasure spurting forth from you and soaking Kyojuro’s lower abdomen and groin as he continued to pump into you, every twist and churn of his base against your clit only prolonging the sweet, torturous pleasure you felt as you screamed for him.

Kyojuro’s high finally ceased, as did yours, but that did not stop your flame-haired friend from continuing to pump into you, as though chasing yet another dizzying high.

“Kyo,” your cry was shrill was your nails sunk into the ropey muscle of your best friend’s back, your teeth gritting against the flicker of overstimulation flaring to life as Kyojuro’s rough base continued to grind right against your clit.

“I’m sorry, my flame,” and to your shock, you noted the desperate whine in his tone. “I can’t stop, I need more – c-can’t stop –”

You felt his cum squelching over where you remained connected, its sticky warmth dribbling down your inner thighs as Kyojuro continued to plunge his still-erect length in and out of your full cunt.

“I want to get you pregnant,” Kyojuro confessed, his eyes burning as they flicked between where he appeared and disappeared inside you, to the way your tits bounced with each of his punishing thrusts, and back to your face. “I’ve been dreaming about it since I met you.”

“C-can’t tell you h-how many times I’ve imagined filling you with my seed until – fuck – you’re carrying my child.”

Some small, rational part of your brain genuinely did not know whether he was serious, and an even smaller part was baffled that you couldn’t find it within yourself to care one way or the other. The only reaction you gave him, instead, was a struggle of your legs against his grasp until he allowed you to wrap them around his hips to hold him close as he chased his second release of the night.

“Tell me you don’t want it, and I’ll pull out,” Kyojuro grunted, though, with the way he continued to thrust even harder into you, you doubted his ability to do so. “Just say the word.”

Admittedly, it was probably too late to worry about that, given that you could still feel the traces of his cum trickling out of you as he continued to ram his length into your spent core. But even if that ship hadn’t yet sailed, you knew you could not let him pull out; could never, not when he made you feel this good.

“Don’t you dare pull – ah – pull out,” you managed, legs tightening around his hips to keep him pinned against you. “I want it – I need it, Kyojuro. Give it to me.”

Your words were enough. With a strangled shout, Kyojuro came once more, his excess cum leaking out of your stuffed cunt, its hot stickiness trickling between your cheeks and pooling on the car hood beneath you, staining faded red with milky white. The cant of Kyojuro’s hips still did not cease as he continued fucking his seed right back into you, and you could do nothing but spread your thighs wider and accept it, mewling softly with your lips against his collarbone.

Kyojuro remained tense above you for several more seconds before he relaxed, his weight pressing you fully against the car hood as he collapsed against you. You both remained quiet for a moment, working to catch your breath.

“Are you alright?” your friend breathed after a moment, nuzzling your sweat-slickened neck affectionately.

You nodded, unable to stop the wide grin which formed on your face. “One would think you’d been waiting a long time to do that, Kyojuro,” you teased, arching your neck to expose more of your throat as his lips traced delicately across it.

“And if I have?” He murmured, pausing to suck lightly on the sensitive skin below your ear. “What would you say then?”

You threaded your fingers through unruly, golden hair and tugged lightly, pulling his face from the dip in your neck so that he would meet your eyes.

“I would say,” you began seriously, suppressing a giggle at the way Kyojuro’s eyebrows furrowed. “That you should probably take me home, then, because I’m not nearly done with you.”

Your fiery friend answered with a growl, low and deep in his chest as he rolled his hips into yours once more, his cock twitching back to life.

Instead of pressing you back against his car, Kyojuro instead flipped you to your stomach, your breasts smushing against the windshield of his car, the sweat clinging to your skin certain to leave behind a lewd outline of your body against the glass.

“You should probably buckle up then, my flame,” he said with a dark chuckle. “Because I’m afraid I can’t wait until I get you into my bed to have you yet again.”

[yan-randomfandom]

Theraprism!Bill Cipher & GoLB!Reader

[DRABBLE] had a chat w my friend abt Golb from Adventure Time, and with the stronger-than-bill godly reader fics here rn, i got this idea! although this isn't romance, just pure mockery between cosmic beings

∆

You smiled. His bulging eye narrowed in return.

"Oh, Billy, you never fail to look just like your parents when you're at your worst."

He grew drastically larger in size, overwhelmed with rage and hatred, but the white room only limits him from becoming his full potential. The red color that dominated his body overpowered any other light, and Bill Cipher truly, desperately hated that fact.

As an embodiment of chaos and destruction, you oversee every detail, even the smallest speck, within your domain. Though, who's to say that everything already isn't within you?

And, of course... This guy?

"When they said I had a special guest today, I didn't expect it to be you, GOLB," he seethed, jabbing a finger at the glass separating you two. The action didn't really mean much when his enormous, glowing eye was taking the entirety of your vision.

"So, what? You came here to mock me? Aren't you supposed to be out destroying universes or something?"

Your smile widened. "Who said I wasn't?"

Bill paused, falling silent as he shrank back to his original size. His red hue turned yellow. Shame. He looked best when he was his father's color.

...

"Well, shucks," he scoffed, leaning back in his chair. "I suppose I should feel honored you’re here. Never realized I’d caught your attention, you freak."

"Always have. Especially after that little fiasco back on earth," you mused, a chuckle escaping your mouth. "I just came by to see how you're doing. You don't look so hot, Bill Cipher."

"Ugh, what, are you about to lecture me on how a human beat me?" he sneered as he crossed his arms. "Because I promise you he didn't—"

"Humans... are peculiar," you interrupted his rant early. Apparently, he didn't appreciate that and glared at you. "They have something we otherworldly beings don't. You know, if I had the choice, I'd choose to be human."

Bill sighed rather dramatically. "All those sappy feelings and weak bodies? You should be glad we don't have that. It's stupid, just dumb!"

To his surprise, you stood up. Well, being an entity like yourself, your time is strict. He's lucky enough he got to talk to you.

"Of course you would say that," you chided, meeting his gaze. The glowing crack on his body intensified in response. "And, yet, the Pines family defeated you using only their bond."

He doesn't reply.

"...I'm just saying that I miss Earth, my home. If I had known you actually had any chance of succeeding, I would have destroyed you already."

...

"Anyway, good talk. It was a pleasure to meet you," you remarked, bowing your head.

Bill quietly stared at your leaving human form. You are the ultimate disrespect Bill has ever encountered in his lifetime.

Right next to Stanley Pines.

∆

BONUS:

The axolotl blinked at you. "Being kinder to Bill was an option. We're trying to better him, after all."

You shrugged. "Look, Gills, I don't know the future, but what I do know is that I haven't met a being like him in a long, long time."

Bill Cipher is a stupid pest who got his powers from his own mistakes. Now, he chases over nothing.

if u dunno em, this is OG golb from adventure time! erm golb looking like a baby but feel free to change how u look like lol, we have imagination!!

just gonna outright say it,,, GOLB!reader used to be human! Just like Golbetty!!!

DEAREST WRITERS, IF YOU LIKE THE IDEA OF GOLB!READER, FEEL FREE TO MAKE YOUR OWN VERSION TOO!!! GIVE US FOOD PLS PLS AND TAG ME 👉👈

[mphoenix-7]

Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 13: The Cabin: Day 5 (pt. 4)

Summary: Soap takes you to a special place he’s found during your five days at the Cabin. You sit, eat, and talk about your pasts a little bit. Soap opens up more than you expect, and you share some stuff about your past too.

Word Count: 6,511

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, swearing, strong language, mentions of death, slightly descriptive mentions of death, car accident, trauma, sweet moments

A/N: Time for a little bonding between you and Soap. More to follow ☺️😉 Also, a Taglist has been added! Please comment on if you’d like to be added to it! Thanks for reading 🫶🏻

Masterlist | <- Previous | Next ->

Bitter Allies • Part 13

The place Soap had in mind for lunch turned out to be absolutely beautiful. A small clearing opened up before you, with a crystal-clear stream winding through it. In one spot, the water pooled gently, forming a small, serene pond. Reeds and wildflowers grew in abundance around the water’s edge, their vibrant colors adding a touch of whimsy to the scene. Only a few trees dotted the clearing, allowing plenty of sunlight to stream through, casting a warm and inviting glow over the area.

The second you walk to the spot, you have to stop to really take it all in. As cliche as it sounded, the spot really was breathing taking. It makes you sad to think that it’s been here the whole time, and you’re just now finding out about this spot on day five.

“Wow…” You breathe, Soap stopping a few steps ahead of you to wait for you to finish taking it all in. “It’s so pretty. How on earth did find this place?” You ask, eyes still trained on the scene ahead as you resume your walking.

“It was the first day we got here. After our big blow up at each other, I went exploring to cool off and just happened to stumble upon it by chance.” He answers. “Come on, the best spot to sit is over here.”

You let him take the lead again, noticing the path you were following looked like it had been walked on before. A lot of the tall grasses and other shrubs were in disarray or broken.

It wouldn’t surprise you if Soap had frequented this place throughout the five days you’ve been here. There were a lot of opportunities for him to get angry and want to storm off somewhere to cool down. This was quite the place to cool down too. You wouldn’t blame him for wanting to come here.

The path Soap was following lead right up the stream. Once you’re right next to him at the edge of the water, Soap glances over at you. “We can cross here. Just be careful cause these rocks can get a little slippery. Especially that speckled one.”

“What? Why are we crossing? Can’t we just stay on this side?” You question him, looking back to the gentle stream. Although it’s not particularly wide or deep, you’d need to take a couple of steps through the water to get across. You notice a few rocks scattered across the stream that could serve as stepping stones, but the prospect of crossing seemed unnecessary.

Soap shrugs a bit. “I mean we could, but there’s a clearing that’s just tall grass right by the water on the other side.” He points out the space he was talking about. “It’s a nice spot. Just trust me.”

You hum softly in thought, debating on if it’s worth the risk of falling in. It wasn’t like the stream would sweep you away or you’d drown—it’d just make for a cold, soggy walk back to the cabin. Even then, it was quite warm out today, so there was a good chance you wouldn’t even be that cold.

You go back and forth in your mind for a little longer before just giving in and agreeing. “Alright.” You sigh. “Better be super worth it, cause I’m risking falling in for it.”

Soap huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “States, if a big muscular guy like me can cross without falling in, I’m sure someone as slim and nimble as you can make it without a problem.

You gasp and dramatically slap a hand over your chest. “Wow, slim and nimble? I think that’s the closest thing to a compliment you’ve ever given me.” You tease, making Soap roll his eyes.

“I’ve complimented you plenty of times.” He grumbles as he turns to face the stream. He begins to cross the stream, his step placement confident looking. You can tell that he’s done this a few times now. Either that or the rocks were that slippery.

“Saying shit like, ‘you didn’t suck as much today’ does not count.” You call after him, watching as he shifts his weight so that he’s standing on two rocks.

He looks back at you, his brows pinched slightly and an indignant look on his face. “That totally counts.” He insists.

“That’s a back handed compliment at best.” You argue back, folding your arms over your chest as you watch him.

He raises a brow at you, almost mockingly. “Still a compliment though. And besides, that’s how all of us compliment each other.”

You can’t deny that. The 141 boys did have a habit of tossing around quips more than actual praise. Gaz was the exception. He didn’t do it as often, but even he had his moments. Still, you’ve received genuine compliments from Price when it was just the two of you, and Gaz gave them to you quite a bit. Ghost hardly ever did, but that was just Ghost.

“I’ve gotten real compliments from the others before.” You counter, finally stepping forward to place your foot on the first rock.

“Even Ghost?” Soap retorts, holding out his hand to help you balance while you get your footing. You take it, wobbling a bit until you get your other foot placed. Once you have your balance, you let go of Soap’s hand.

“Ghost doesn’t count. You’d be lucky if he insulted you.”

“Alright, I’ll give you that.” Soap laughs a little bit, easily stepping across the remaining stones and getting to the other side without a problem. He didn’t even so much as wobble.

You follow after him, holding out your arms to the side a bit to help you balance. You managed to get across though without falling in. It wasn’t that difficult to cross; the rocks were flat enough and they really weren’t too wet. The second your feet hit the grass on the other side, Soap is giving you a slow clap.

“Good job. You crossed and didn’t fall in. Gold star. How’s that for a compliment?” He teases, getting an eye roll.

“Oh fuck off.” You groan, giving him a shove. Soap laughs as you push him away, his arms coming up to shield himself as he stumbles a little away from you. “Just go back to not complimenting me. I think it was better that way.”

“If you insist.” He laughs. “Just remember that you told me that the next time you start whining about how I never say anything nice.”

Soap starts to lead the way once more, walking you over to the spot he’d been so insistent on going to. True to his word, it’s right by the water, nestled on a tiny mound that offers a perfect view of the stream below. A small waterfall that feeds into the pond adds a soothing backdrop of sound. The tall grass around the area is flattened, clear evidence that Soap has visited this place at least once before.

When you get there, Soap steps into the center of where all the grass is flattened and begins to stomp a little more down more around the edges to make room for you to sit. Once he’s done, he steps over to one side and motions for you to get comfortable in the spot he’s just made.

“There we go. Have a seat.” He says, dropping the backpack from his shoulders and setting it down in the grass before sitting himself.

You sit down slowly, surprised by how soft the grass feels beneath you. Being so close to the water, it’s lush and cool, not dried out or prickly like you’d expected. You could honestly take a nap here.

“I still can’t get over how beautiful it is out here. So different from base and deployments.” You say once you’re settled in.

The military base you were currently stationed at, like most others, was dominated by neutral tones and dark green colors. It was a familiar sight—most bases you’d been to had a similar aesthetic. The ones in America were mostly concrete and equipment, with gray dominating the landscape. The base you're at now does have patches of grass, but they’re poorly maintained, with dirt paths worn into them from the constant foot traffic of soldiers.

Then of course when it came to your deployments, half the time you went to places where it was mostly desert. If you did go to a place with a lot of natural greenery, then it was normally so war torn, with uprooted trees, tank tracks, and pits that people dug or ones created by frags, that it wasn’t very enjoyable. The other scenario was you were in a beautiful place but couldn’t enjoy it because you were being shot at.

This was a rare treat. The sounds of nature, no war in sight, no needing to be on high alert for snipers. Just time to sit back and enjoy the beauty of the world you hardly got to see. Even if at first this unscheduled vacation seemed like a death sentence, you were learning to enjoy it. At the very least, you could take back snippets of moments like this.

“Yeah,” Soap hums softly from where he’s seated. “It reminds me a little of Scotland.”

You glance over at him, taking notice of the faint smile on his face as he looks around at the little grassy meadow. He was thinking about his motherland. His home. There’s a longing in his eyes that you’d have to be blind to miss.

“How so?” You venture, wanting to hear more about where he came from. You were sure that Soap, ever the proud Scotsman, would have no problem gushing about Scotland. And you were right. The second the question leaves your lips, he seems to light up.

“All this lush, rolling grass, the gentle breeze, the fresh air, and the sound of the stream—it reminds me of the Highlands and the woods by my childhood home. We lived right outside of town, and our house sat on a hill, giving us the best view of the open land. Behind us, there were miles and miles of woods, covered in moss, with a stream running through it. It was bigger than this one, but the feel of it… it’s the same.”

He pauses, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he continues. “I spent so much time out there when I was a wee laddie. From sunup to sundown, I was always outside. My friends and I would climb trees, play all sorts of game, build forts. In the stream, we would stack rocks to build dams and splash around when it was warm.”

You laugh softly, smiling at the thought of a young, rowdy John MacTavish playing in the woods. It was something you could easily picture. “No wonder you’re so knowledgeable about bears and stuff.”

Soap shrugs a little bit. “We don’t have bears in Scotland. The most dangerous animals out where I was were boars and red deer. I learned all that stuff about bears when I was deployed in Russia.”

“Well regardless, it sounds like you were quite the forest dweller as a child.”

Soap laughs, the sound warm and genuine. “Aye, I was. I went to the woods for everything. My favorite spot was that stream though. I’d go out there by myself and sit by the water, letting it wash away whatever was on my mind. It was always my go to place when I was sad, angry, or just needing to clear my head. It always made me feel better.”

Soap pauses a moment, a little huff of a laugh leaving him as he recalls some story on his mind. “Like the time I first learned I’d no longer be an only child. When my mum and dad told me I was gonna have a little sister, I was so pissed. Took off right out the back door and spent hours out there.”

You laugh softly, but your eyebrows are raised in surprise. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

His files made no mention of his family, though you suppose they wouldn’t have anyway. Information like that was kept almost as secure as launch codes. Still, you always pictured Soap as an only child.

“Yeah, fucking three of them.” He huffs, which surprises you even further. “Eilidh (AY-lee), Rowan, and Kirsten.”

“Damn, MacTavish. I never would have pictured you growing up with three girls.” You smirk, and he returns it, amused himself.

“That’s exactly what Gaz said too.” Soap muses, leaning back a little now and stretching his legs out in front of him. A much more relaxed posture. “So what about you, Stateside? You have any siblings growing up?”

A smile tugs at your lips as the faces of your brother and sister flash through your mind. “An older brother and a younger sister. My brother was adopted from South Korea, and his name is Kim and my sister’s name is Rozlin.”

It was Soap’s turn to be surprised now. “Huh, I always pictured you as the youngest, not a middle child.”

“And why is that?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“I can’t say cause we said we’d be nice to each other.” He’s dodging the question, but he still answered your question without answering it.

“That’s such an older brother thing to say.”

Soap chuckles softly at your response, and the conversation pauses for a moment. There’s a few beats of silence, Soap seeming to be lost in his thoughts. He gazes back to you shortly though, changing the topic.

“You miss America and being home with them? It’s gotta hard being in a completely different country than the rest of your family.”

You hum softly, a slight frown on your face. It has been a while since you’ve seen your siblings— about a year now. You were sadly used to not seeing much of them anymore now though. Being in the military for a few years now, you didn’t get to be home often with them. You only really saw them on holidays or through FaceTime calls. The last time you’d seen them was through such a call before you’d transferred overseas. The last time in person had been for a sadder event you didn’t want to currently think about.

“Yeah…” You trail off, trying to find a way to explain your feelings to Soap’s question.

Soap frowns as you trail off, his expression going from light and playful to a touch more serious. “You don’t miss home?” He asks hesitantly.

“No,” you shake your head. “I do. I mean, America is my home, and I will always love my siblings. But this life changes you. I can never go back to being a civilian, and it’s like the life I had in America before the military is one I will never have again.”

Soap hums softly, his brows slightly furrowed as he listens. “I get it. A bit of a love-hate relationship.”

“Exactly.” You sigh, a slightly sad smile on your face. “It’s hard to get us all together anyway. Kim also joined the forces, I’m in special-ops now, and last I knew, Rozlin is thinking of joining too.”

“Wow, quite the military family.” Soap chuckles. “Your parents must be proud.”

There it was. The moment those words leave Soap’s lips, a sharp pang of loss hits you, squeezing your heart. You smile sadly at the thought of your parents, trying to push the emotions down. “They were.” You nod, trying to keep it short, but Soap’s curiosity was piqued.

“Were?” He asks slowly, making you sign. Gently, you start to pick at the blades of grass around you, trying to get the words out.

“My… My parents died like a year ago. I guess closer to a year and a half now.” You bite the inside of your cheek, continuing to pick at the grass, but also watching out of the corner of your eye as Soap sits up more.

“Oh God… States, I’m so sorry to hear that.” He says, frowning at you.

“It’s fine. Really. I mean, I’ve have time to process it.” You try to give him a smile to let him know you really were alright, but your eyes still held the sadness of losing someone you love.

The news of their death had been a complete shock to you. Your Sergeant at the time had called you into his office in the middle of a drill one morning to break the news to you. It didn’t sink in right away. You’d denied their death the entire flight back to your hometown. It was only when you entered the funeral hall, and your sister came running to you, her body trembling with sobs as she buried her face in your shoulder, that the weight of the loss finally hit you.

That was the last time you’d been under the same roof with both of your siblings. It was the last time you’d been to your childhood hometown. The last time you’d stepped foot in your childhood home.

“Can I asked what happened?” Soap asks softly, breaking you away from your thoughts.

“Car accident. Drunk driver. Going too fast and hit them head on.” You pick at a few more blades of grass, trying your hardest to fight back tears. God how much you still resented that other driver. The one who got to live.

Soap sighs, looking down and not saying anything for a moment as he takes in what you’ve just told him. “That’s horrible.” He finally says after a moment. “I… I know what’s it like. My uh… my mum also died in a car accident when I was young.” He says slowly, and you instantly look over at him.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through something like that.” You say gently, resting a hand on his knee. You can feel your heart breaking for him. “How did… what happened?” You ask gently, not wanting to dig too much if it was a hard topic for him.

“Don’t really know.” Soap says, looking down at your hand on his knee. “She went out for something in the next town over and never came back. The next morning, they found her car had swerved off road and smashed into a tree. She wasn’t speeding, she didn’t do drugs, wasn’t drinking. Probably alive after she hit the tree and bled out…”

He clears his throat, his eyes instantly becoming glossy. Growling a little, he sniffs and wipes at one of his eyes. “Still not over it.” He chuckles, trying to hide his hurt. “That day changed everything for me. My mum was the kindest and most incredible woman...”

He trails off again, his voice wavering near the end. He was clearly struggling. You give his knee a reassuring squeeze, but he doesn’t look back at you. He keeps his focus trained on the ground.

“Could you tell me about her?” You ask softly. A small smile flickers on Soap’s face, just barely noticeable. He pauses for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, then nods slowly. You can see him steady himself before he starts to speak.

“She was the most loving, understanding person you could ever meet,” Soap begins, his voice softening. “It’s hard to put into words who she was, but everything about her just… beautiful.” His eyes grow distant as he speaks, gaze drifting toward the stream once more. He’s caught up in some kind of memory, one you don’t wish to interrupt.

A moment later, he shifts his gaze back to you. “You remember that story I told you earlier? About how I ran into the woods when I found out I was getting a sister?”

You nod.

“Well, it was my mum who came and found me afterwards. She always knew exactly what to do to make me feel better. I remember she brought me some shorties, which were my absolute favorite. They still are, I love those things.” Soap chuckles softly before continuing with his story.

“We didn’t talk right away. She just sat with me, and we listened to the water together. Just the two of us. It’s funny, I don’t remember exactly what we talked about, but I remember we talked until the sun went down. And when we got home, she tucked in and told me, ‘John, no matter what, you’ll always be my boy. You’ll always have a place in this family, and no one can take that from you.’ She told me that having a sister wouldn’t change that, and that being a big brother meant having someone who’d look up to me, someone I could protect.”

His voice softens as he adds, “She taught me that love wasn’t something that got divided—it just grew. That stuck with me. Made me feel better about everything. Like I wasn’t losing anything but gaining something special.

Whenever I think about home, my home before my dad met Annette and remarried, or when I see something like this stream, I think of her. I’d give anything to sit and talk with her by the stream at home again. Just one more time.”

When he finishes, you’re left utterly speechless. His recollection about his mother is so touching, so sweet, and so heartfelt—nothing like the Soap you knew. You’ve never seen this side of him before, not even around the other members of the 141.

Your heart aches for him, the pain in his words is palpable, and you can see it in his eyes as he gazes longingly at the flowing water. You never imagined that you and Soap would share such a traumatic loss. In a strange way, it makes you feel closer to him. You’re touched that he would share something so personal with you. Something that made him vulnerable.

Without you even realizing it, a single tear slides down your cheek. You only notice it when Soap brushes it away. His touch pulls you back to the present, and you focus on his eyes, which hold tears of their own. He doesn’t say anything, his eyes expressing an understand.

His thumb lingers on your cheek for just a second longer, his touch gentle. When he finally pulls his hand back, the corners of his mouth twitch into a small, bittersweet smile. The silence between you feels heavy, but not uncomfortable—more like a shared space where words aren’t necessary.

You take a deep breath, looking back to the stream, able to image John and his mother sitting there. “Your mother sounds like she was a real treasure.” You feel like your words aren’t enough. There’s nothing you can say to tell Soap how saddened you are by hearing about the loss of this mother. How great she sounded.

It’s enough to bring a smile to Soap’s face though. The longing is still in his eyes, but you know it’s a look that will never fully go away. But there’s also something else there too—a glimmer of happiness. Pride that you think his mother is just an incredible as the way he’s described her.

“I’m sure your parents were just as loving and incredible as my mum was.” Soap says softly. “They raised one hell of daughter.”

His words hit you hard, much harder than you expected. You’re brought to tears once more, watching them quickly well up in your line of sight, and you need to bite your cheek to keep from breaking down. Soap’s words touched your heart. You can’t be more grateful for them, but are unable to express the true extent of their impact. All you can manage to a nod and choked out, “thank you…”

Soap’s smile is gentle, understanding. He reaches for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You squeeze back just as tightly, silently supporting each other as you listen to the slow rush of water from the stream.

Soap holds your hand the entire time you look out to the water together. A pleasant silence falls between you, but Soap eventually breaks it, letting go of your hand as he does.

“We should eat, huh?” He chuckles, his tone a tough lighter now. You’re almost relieved though to move on to something else. There was only so much you could take talking about death.

“Yeah, yeah, we should.” You agree, watching as Soap turns to grab the backpack. He unzips and starts to rifle through its contents. “What’s on the menu for today?” You ask, trying to peak over into the bag to see what he’s grabbed.

“Today, we have a fine selection of…” He pulls out two MREs. “Homestyle vegetables in sauce with noodles and chicken and homestyle vegetables in sauce with noodles and chicken.” He lists, pausing between pulling each one out and holding them up for you to see.

You make a face, wanting to gag at what was probably the most unappetizing MRE there is. To be fair, it wasn’t horrible. If you were in a pinch, starving out in the middle of nowhere, freezing while you huddled under a tent in the middle of a downpour, or had eaten the same thing for a week straight, it would taste incredible. But currently, not starving, dry, and having eaten nothing but bland foods for the past five days, it sounded horrible.

“We didn’t have anything else?” You ask, wondering why he’d grabbed what he most likely also thought was the most bland and boring MRE kit there was.

Soap gives you a small shrug. “We’ve gone through every other MRE except this one. We’ve got one beef ravioli and one jalapeño beef patty left, but those were the last of the decent ones. I thought we might want to save them for tomorrow, so we don’t have to eat this mush for the rest of our time here.” He explains, handing the unappealing, brown packaged meal over to you.

You scowl down at it. “I think I’d almost rather starve than eat this.” You admit, turning the package over and inspecting it in disdain.

“It’s better when you have hot sauce you can put on it.” Soap says, already tearing open his kit and dumping the contents out.

You reluctantly open yours, but not before giving him a look. “Hot sauce in what is essentially chicken noodle soup? That sounds disgusting.”

Soap shrugs. “It gives it something interesting besides just blandness.” He says matter-o-factly, pausing in tearing open his food to dig back through the backpack. He comes up with your canteens and hands you yours. You can heat up your food with it and make the broth.

“I’ll keep that it mind.” You really have no intention of trying the weird mixtures he’s suggesting though. Hopefully, though unrealistically, you’d never have to eat this MRE again.

Resigning yourself to the unappetizing lunch in front of you, you tear open the MRE with a resigned sigh, already dreading the bland taste you know is coming. As you work on opening the package and sorting all the different packets, you glance back at Soap. “So, when did you join the force?” you ask, genuinely interested in learning more about Soap’s past, but also eager for the distraction from the meal.

“I joined when I was eighteen. Tried to enlist before then by lying about my age, but they figured it out and rejected my application.” Soap says, which makes you giggle. It sounded like something he would do.

“Excited about joining I see.” You muse, watching as Soap carefully pours water into the heating pouch and slides the meal packet inside. He props it against the backpack to let it heat up.

“Yeah… something like that.” He mutters, his tone seeming to shift just the slightest bit. It was enough to make you pause, but he continues on. “But I got in at eighteen. I was selected for the 22nd Regiment.”

You nod a little bit, deciding to brush off his brief shift in tone for now. “So what did you do in the 22nd?” You ask, filling your own heating pouch to get your food warm. All you really knew about the 22nd Regiment was that it some British infantry group.

“I was a part of an elite squadron that specialized in stuff like covert reconnaissance, counter-terrorism, and hostage rescues.” He explains, watching as you filled the bag up and prep it. Once it’s ready, he motions for you to give it to him, and he sets it up against the backpack next to his. “I did eight years there and then when I was twenty-six, I was doing training in Hereford, and Price was the evaluator. He saw a lot of potential in me or something, pushed me in my training, and when selection came, I passed. Was in the SAS after that. Youngest candidate to ever pass selection.”

You knew that about him already. It’d been in his file. You remember reading his file on the plane ride over to their base and being so impressed. He hadn’t just scraped by either, he got the highest marks possible on each phase of the test.

“I remember reading that in your file on the flight over.” You smile. “Made it all the more intimidating to join the team. Had one guy who was youngest to join the SAS, one whose entire file was reacted due to the work he did, a highly decorated Sergeant, and a seasoned Captain.”

Soap laughs softly at that. “Yeah, still didn’t keep you away, though.” Soap teases, earning himself an eye roll and a gentle shove.

It makes him laugh even more, and it’s strange to hear him joke about something like that for once. Normally when he made comments about stuff like wanting you to leave or wishing you hadn’t joined, he meant it. This time he seemed like he was joking. There was no hidden edge to his words.

“I had to sign the contract before they let me read up about you guys.” You joke back, playing along. Though that was true, you really did have to sign a contract first. You weren’t allow much information about the team unless you agreed to go. The only thing they really informed you about was the basic role of the position you’d be taking.

“We got your file the second you signed up.” Soap says, checking on his food by touching the back of his hand to the bag. His food must have been warm enough cause he starts to take it out of the heating pack. “Didn’t even really know we were getting another person until Price dropped it all in front of us at a meeting. Had only a few days to get ready for you.”

That was new information to you. You figured the guys would have known they were getting someone new long before you signed on. At the same time though, it made sense. It was safer to keep information like that between only a few people, and with the enemies you knew your current Task Force has made over the years, it was probably good not to have word get out they were growing the team.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts when you notice Soap is handing you your meal bag. He mutters a, “here” and you take it from him.

“Oh, thanks.” You mumble back, touching the bag carefully to make sure it was warm enough. It felt decent enough to eat, so you pulled it out of the bag.

As you do that, Soap has already getting his open and is looking back to you. “So, where were you stationed before joining us? I know it was in your file somewhere, but I forgot.” Soap continues on in conversation, mixing his food a bit.

“The Green Berets.” You answer, pulling the rip-strip on the top of the food pouch. The smell of chicken hits you instantly, and the sight of the noodles is already unappealing. “Outside of basics and the platoon I was assigned to, I’ve been with them my whole career. Until now of course with transferring to a Task Force.”

Soap hums softly as he listens to you and takes his first bite of the chicken veggie noddle MRE. Watching him eat it makes you shutter, though he seemed unbothered.

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” Soap mutters through a mouthful of food, his words come out muffled as he chews. He doesn’t bother to finish chewing and swallowing before speaking again. “Did some training with them back in the day.”

You wrinkle your nose in distaste, watching as he continues to take another bite of the noodles. He hadn’t even finished his first bite before adding another one. You never really noticed the way he ate until now.

“You know, the chicken noodles are bad enough on their own. You really don’t need to make it worse by talking with your mouth full.” You frown.

Soap chuckles at you, though he at least swallows before speaking again. “At least I’m eating it. You haven’t even touched yours.” He points towards your untouched meal bag with his spoon.

You glance down at the bag of unappetizing noodles and sigh. “Can you blame me? This stuff is revolting.”

He laughs again, rolling his eyes as he takes another bite. “Come on, it’s not that bad. The faster you eat it, the sooner you’ll be done suffering.”

You can't argue with that logic. As much as you hate to admit it, Soap has a point. The faster you got the food down, the sooner it’d be over, and the less you would taste. It wasn’t like you weren’t capable of eating fast either. Back in bootcamp, you only had five minutes to eat sometimes. So you were more than capable of shoveling it down, you just preferred not to eat that way.

Sighing to yourself, shoulders sagging, you reluctantly scoop up a small bite and force it into your mouth. The taste isn’t terrible, just bland, but the texture is what gets you. A shudder runs through you as you chew, and you can’t help but gag slightly as the mushy noodles slide down your throat.

The whole time you struggle through the bite, Soap watches with wide eyes, his expression shifting between horror and concern. When you finally swallow and chase the taste with a swig of water, he shakes his head. “Steamin' Jesus, that was fucking painful to watch.” He mutters.

You shutter once more, the sensation of the food sliding down your throat lingering for a moment. “I’d rather eat a raw fish from the lake we bathe in than finish this.” You complain, scowling down at the still very full bag.

Soap lets out a small huff that resembles a laugh as he turns back to his soggy noodles. “We could probably go fishing and catch a few. Cook them over the fire instead of eating them raw like some deranged woodsperson.”

Your eyes widen, and you snap your head toward him so fast it nearly startles him. “Could we really do that?!” you ask, barely containing your excitement.

You have been eating MREs or bread for the past fives days for every meal. Cooking fish, real food, instead of eating the bland, processed, and sometimes unidentifiable sludge that somehow passes for a meal in those packets would be a welcome change.

Soap still looks a little shocked, blinking at you before nodding his head slowly. “Uh, yeah.. it’s really not that hard to go fishing.” He answers slowly, and his confirmation just makes you more excited.

“Why the hell haven’t we been fishing this entire time?! Can we go fishing? Please?”

“Well…” Soap hesitates. “I mean we’d have to take the time to make some spears, and then you need to descale them and take all the bones out, and-“

“We can do those things.” You argue, your voice hopeful.

“What are you gonna season the fish with? And what about this stuff?” He holds up his half-eaten MRE. “We just gonna waste it?”

You huff, sitting back slightly. “We can use salt, cause I know we have that back at the cabin. I saved some packets from a different MRE in case of emergency. And really? There is no way that you can look me in the eyes and tell me that you’d rather eat that disgusting shit instead of fresh fish. I know you’d have no problem with tossing that for real food.”

You both stare at each other, neither one of you moving or blinking. Soap is stubbornly holding his ground, but you know him well enough to know he hates what he’s eating too. He just toying with you.

When you raise an eyebrow at him expectantly, it breaks him. He lets out a huff, a smirk quickly forming on his face. “Yeah, alright. This is pretty fucking disgusting.” He agrees with a laugh. “I’m pretty sure my stomach was gonna reject it if I tried to take another bite.”

“Does this mean we’re gonna go fishing?” You ask, a grin quickly spreading across your face.

Soap looks at you, his expression softening in a way that sends a flutter through your chest. His lips curve into a relaxed smile, his shoulders loosening as the tension eases from his posture. His stunningly blue eyes, usually so guarded and intense, are soft and filled with a mix of warmth and something deeper—a tenderness that catches you off guard. Affection?

“Yeah, we can go fishing.” Soap laughs, his voice light with amusement, the gentle look in his eyes lingering.

Your excitement bubbles over, pushing aside any further analysis of his gaze. With a grin, you quickly seal up your MRE, stow your water bottle, and begin packing. “Oh God, it’s gonna taste so good. I can already smell it cooking.” You ramble on, earning a laugh from him as he starts to pack up as well.

After everything is packed away and the backpack is zipped, Soap stands and slings it onto his shoulder. By the time he’s fully upright, you’ve already taken off. He watches as you practically bound off towards the part of the stream where you crossed earlier. He watches you for a moment, a smile tugging at his lips, then shakes his head before hurrying to catch up.

@the-faceless-bride @venavanup @hotthankss @daemondoll

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Claimed by the Devil

Small Creatures, Chapter 1

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: When the well-known vigilante of Hell’s Kitchen saves you from disaster, you realize he might mean more to you than you thought.

warnings: swearing, Matt Murdock’s self-destructive tendencies, mentions of a cult and subsequent trauma, allusions to drowning

a/n: This is it, y’all! A Matt Murdock soulmate AU as requested by that poll a few weeks ago. A HUGE shoutout to @zomtart for helping me plan this AU!! I am so excited to share this new verse with you, I really hope you like it! As always, please let me know what you think by replying and reblogging! This chapter takes place about a month before the beginning of Daredevil S2.

w/c: 4.1k

“For small creatures such as we, the vastness is only bearable through love.” Carl Sagan

Since the creation of man, each soul was created with another. Two, sometimes more, mirrored fractions of a whole, destined to forge a bond. Particles of a spiritual atom, drawn to each other by invisible forces, finally satisfied through connection. Soulmates. Each body marked with a symbol, to help them find their other half. Sometimes a word or a shape, a small clue to start their journey.

For a while, that journey was short. It would still take time, of course, to meet your soulmate, to fall in love—but it took less than one lifetime, while the world was still small, the human race still growing.

After a few generations, and centuries of invention, the population began to travel. Groups of people living on all 6 continents, developing new cultures, traditions, languages. As they moved, the average distance between bound pairs grew. It became less common to ever meet your match. Humanity found love in other places, built families on opposite sides of the globe, living their entire existence without their intended.

With each non-bound couple, came children without bonds. Scientists have puzzled over the phenomenon for years, some drawing the conclusion that our biology began to reject the bond, to continue without it as if it was a recessive gene. Through countless wars and plagues, and the continued spread of humanity, finding your soulmate was almost an impossibility.

And then the pendulum swung back. Wars became fewer, food more prevalent, medicine more exact. Lifespans were stretched and, with the help of machines, it was easier than ever to find your soulmate. The damage of an era without them began to repair itself.

Within 5 generations, chances of forming a true bond soared from one in one-thousand to one in thirty.

A sharp vibration from your laptop interrupted the voice in your head. Glancing at the bubble that flashed across your screen, you rolled your eyes at the message. It was the seventh—yes, SEVENTH—in a string of emails from the same haughty woman demanding the pictures of her great aunt's 90th birthday party.

The party was beautiful, and the photos reflected that, but it had been less than 48 hours since the event. Every contract you signed gave you a window of 5-7 business days to edit the photos, more time depending on the length of the shot list you were given and the number of pictures they wanted. If this woman wanted professional, edited photos, she needed to give you a damn break.

Clicking on the small white cross in the corner of the pop-up, you huffed out a small laugh, imagining the fuming woman growing redder in the face when you didn't answer her at 4:02 on a Sunday afternoon. Setting your own hours, as well as being able to ignore frustrating clients during your down time, were just two of the perks of running your own photography business. The flexible schedule and lack of strict routine were a welcomed change after your upbringing in a highly controlled community.

While you did understand why experts used that terminology, you were much more content calling your “community” what it was: a cult. “High control group”—or whatever other politically-correct, secular terminology people wanted to use to describe a bunch of adults deciding to use their limited power to exploit others in the name of some bogus goal—was too polite for the assholes from your hometown. The bumfuck rural town where “religious” leaders congregated to torture dozens of children over a tiny, immovable mark on their skin.

A brand of the devil. That’s what they claimed soulmarks were. The sign of a being destined for evil. And, in order to save humanity from said evil, it was up to this specific community to cleanse you of your threatening aura, to rid the demonic energy from your body and spare your soul.

They’d used written and verbal propaganda, forbid outside contact, relied heavily on fear-mongering—the whole nine yards of brainwashing, all to supposedly grant the town salvation. Given that your particular mark was on the inside of your right wrist? Well, it definitely didn’t help the “damned” accusations coming your way.

Something flashed across your mind. A memory. Tepid water, turning frigid as you were forced deeper and deeper. All traces of oxygen slowly draining from your lungs, your body struggling desperately against the hands gripping you forcefully by the arms, holding you under.

Shuddering with discontent, your mark itched fiercely, as if it was trying to snap you out of the flashback. Absentmindedly dragging a nail over it to quell the unpleasant sensation, you inhaled deeply, studying the image as you did.

It was a simple thing, a series of a few lines just over the pulse point on your forearm. Two triangles, placed horizontally and pointing away from each other, with three small straight lines fanning out beneath. From your limited knowledge, it was a rune of some sort, though you hadn’t been able to narrow down the origin or meaning quite yet. Not scary enough to warrant the actions taken by your wonderful hometown though.

After surviving, and escaping, your upbringing, a lack of a rigid schedule was a necessity—which meant freelance event photography was a perfect career path. Unfortunately, an anxious mind and spontaneity didn't always mix.

It didn't matter that you didn't hear the messaging daily anymore. You were still struggling to unravel the mind games and indoctrination you'd been subjected to, hence the re-reading of this particular article. It wasn't the most informative, and the author clearly had a fully-realized bond herself, but it was the first piece of literature you'd ever read that wasn't propaganda.

There was a historical explanation for the disappearance of your condition, as well as a documented existence of others like you. Your mark didn't make you evil—it meant you were loved.

You re-read the blurb on days like today. Days where your conscience buzzed with apprehension, adrenaline flowing freely despite the lack of danger. There was something in the air around you. A warning, illustrated by the tiniest changes in your environment. On days like these, you felt like a bug beneath a descending shoe, scrambling to understand what was coming so you could make it out alive.

Expecting a disaster was illogical, you knew that. But reason wasn't the driving force in your brain on the anxious days. It was your desperate need to survive, to be prepared. On your bad days, your eyes flew open like you'd heard the door come crashing in or felt the cold steel barrel of a pistol against your temple—your body readying for a fight before you were even fully conscious.

Those days, your heart hammered in your chest, battering your ribs until they ached. Your lungs constricted when your blood pressure rose, each breath coming as a pant as you struggled to inhale enough oxygen. One wrong move and you'd send yourself spiraling into a full anxiety attack. Hopefully, you'd at least be able to stave that off over the last hour of daylight today.

Chewing at the edge of your thumbnail, you aimlessly scrolled through the page again, blowing out a terse sigh. The biggest annoyance when it came to your anxiety was that each experience was unique. There wasn't a universal solution. Sometimes, staying at home where it was familiar and safe was all you needed to settle your nerves. Other times, the constancy only made you more jittery.

As much as you'd wished that a sedentary day would slow your pulse and ease your breathing, that clearly was not in the cards.

Time for Plan B.

Growling almost inaudibly, you resisted the urge to start pulling your hair out strand by strand. Working up the energy to get through the door was always the hard part. As exhibited by your professional side, freedom to roam and choose your own path was vital. Despite your nervous brain trying to deny it, leaving your place to wander on a small adventure would be good for you in the long run.

When you'd escaped the clutches of the nutjobs running your old neighborhood, you'd made a promise to yourself–try at least one new thing every week. It seemed childish, but you'd missed out on so many things when under the control of the Order, you wanted to make up for that. Pretty quickly, it became clear that you thrived on flexibility and exploration.

So you kept up with it. Made a list of things in case you ever ran out of inspiration or couldn't decide what to choose next. That line of scribbles in a worn notebook came in handy on days where you disappeared into yourself, where you lacked the excitement that normally accompanied your little outings. Allowing the intense reluctance in your gut to churn, you reached for the leatherbound pages, sliding the book from where it lay on the coffee table and into your lap. Heaving out a breath, despite your protesting lungs, you thumbed through the paper, letting the smell of ink and coffee-stained parchment wash over you.

You weren't looking for something big. And the idea had to be plausible, there would be no mountain climbing or language learning in a single evening. Trailing a finger to the side of the dried ink, you skimmed each bullet point, eyes lingering on a particularly messy string of words.

“Golden Skyline Ink 48”

Thankfully, the gibberish you'd immortalized was recent enough that you could decipher it. Sunset photos of the skyline from the Ink 48 Hotel. You'd swung by the prestigious building for a meeting with a potential client, but you'd been too busy to snap a decent shot from the roof before your next errand of the day.

Pondering for a minute, you decided to go with your hesitant gut instinct. You craned your neck, hunting down your camera bag as you rolled your shoulder to unravel the tension balled up in them. Shoving up from your horizontal position on the couch, you closed your laptop and shuffled towards the door. Hefting the bag into your arms, you strode down the entryway.

Your hand reached for the doorknob at a snail's pace, halting mere inches from it as if the brass had a forcefield around it. ”You can do this.“ You muttered to yourself, forcing your fingers past the barrier and around the knob.

Stepping through the door, you flinched at the bright fluorescence of the hallway lights, hissing slightly like a vampire seeing the sun in a cheesy TV show. Swallowing the flash of pain in your head as the lights continued to beam down, you took another step. Here goes nothing.

Matt was grateful for the new body armor. He was, really.

He just wished Melvin’s talents included making the damn thing breathable. He’d never admit that, of course. On the spectrum of pain he lived with, being a bit overheated was closer to the bearable end. It wasn’t a stab wound or a broken bone, it wouldn’t impede his patrolling. If he could work through a punctured lung, he could handle a little sweating.

But when the nights got quiet and slow, it was more difficult to keep his mind from latching on to the discomfort–blown out of proportion by his fickle senses.

Sitting atop an apartment building on 55th Street, Matt could feel pure thermal energy bubbling up from the concrete beneath his feet. The waves of heat collided with his shoes, seeping into the rubber soles and blanketing his skin. Around him, the short ledge wrapping around the roof refracted more warmth, sending the sweltering air to smack directly into him.

He wasn't a fan of the heat, never had been, but the thick, skin-tight suit he was wearing only exacerbated the issue. Sweat beaded in the paper-thin gap between his skin and the fabric surrounding it, suctioning it impossibly closer to his body. Grinding his teeth in aggravation, Matt prowled to the edge of the roof, leaping off and rolling to deflect the impact from shattering any of his limbs. With a quick jump, he was back on his feet, taking off towards the next building in the line.

If he patrolled towards the Hudson and back around, he could escape the worst of the heat without neglecting his duty to the city.

Not that there was much action these days. The past handful of weeks, his outings in the suit had been unusually unproductive. It wasn’t that he was missing out on fights–it’s that they didn’t exist. Gangs were staying holed up, petty crime had taken a dive, even the steady drug or arms traders like Turk had gone radio silent. As much as Matt wanted to believe that his time as Daredevil had made a lasting impact on the city he loved so dearly, a current of doubt continued to whirl beneath his skin.

Crime was more likely in the summer, that was an inevitability. Increased temperatures shortened people’s fuses. Spats with loved ones were more likely to turn violent, miscellaneous expenses are more likely to add up and cause financial distress, it was statistically probable that he’d have busier nights leading up to the fall. And yet, here he was, twiddling his glove-clad thumbs while metaphorical tumbleweeds were swept down the streets.

He was confident something had changed, but he hadn’t quite determined what. So, despite the lack of problems he felt the need to solve, he continued to remain out until all hours, ears straining to pick up a scream or the explosive pop of a bullet leaving the barrel of a gun.

Body on high alert, he ambled towards the piers, vaulting from roof to roof in a familiar trajectory while his brain fought off an incoming onslaught of guilt at the notion of staying out. Foggy would be furious tomorrow, when he saw Matt gulping down the cheap coffee from their machine–which was held together by masking tape and sheer luck these days. Matt had foolishly admitted his conundrum to his business partner, remarking that the city had been eerily still lately, that there was less of a need for him. That he’d been searching so urgently for justification that he’d been going out before dusk.

The idea that Matt’s nighttime activity was no longer an absolute necessity had upset the tenuous understanding the pair had reached over said activity. A simple slip of his tongue and Matt was on the receiving end of Foggy’s chastising, being told he should take advantage of the lull and “get some goddamned rest for once”. (Foggy’s words, not his own.) The renewed argument had become such a frequent topic of discussion that Karen had almost been clued in a few times when Matt’s frustration had narrowed his senses. Just that morning, he and Foggy had been going at it when she’d arrived at the office, surprising both of them with her bright greeting and intrigued glance.

Hurling himself to the next rooftop, Matt huffed out an aggravated breath, clenching his fists as his muscles tightened with irritation, his friend’s desperate pleas echoing in his head.

“You can’t keep going like this.”

“You’re hurting yourself for nothing.”

“The city will be fine without you.”

That last one stung the most, ripping open an invisible wound he’d crudely stitched after taking down Fisk. His work had helped people. His infamous alter ego was the final straw in the case against the organized criminal, imperative to his arrest. To the people of this city, Daredevil mattered–which meant Matt Murdock mattered.

If he boxed up the suit…

No. That wasn’t an option. He couldn’t–

The shuffle of a shoe on concrete caught his attention, snapping him out of his downward spiral. His chest trembled as he panted in and out, his shallow breaths deepening as he focused in the direction of the noise. He wasn’t alone.

Mouth parting as his atypical radar closed in, his nose scrunched with slight confusion, brow furrowing with concern. There was a person perched on the brick ledge–a woman, balancing on her tiptoes and facing the city. She hadn’t noticed him, her pulse far too slow. Her hands held something blocky, the plastic object dragging along her skin as she positioned it, arms outstretched over the nearly 20 story drop to the pavement below.

He bit back an incredulous scoff as she bent further towards her death, practically rolling his eyes to the heavens as he approached. Not only was this position begging for disaster to strike, she had one headphone in, her lips moving as if mouthing along to the lyrics. She heaved in a dramatic exhale.

“Let’s try this again,” She murmured, finger slotting into a divot on an edge of the thing in her grasp, prompting a series of mechanical clicks to burst from it. Shutter sounds. A camera. A camera? You were risking your life for a photo?

Before he could judge you too harshly, your mouth twitched and your heart rate jumped. You’d realized he was there, then.

“You know, if you fall off that ledge, the effort you went through for that picture will be wasted.” He quipped, his lips twitching with a hint of a smirk as you squeaked indignantly.

It was only amusing for a moment.

As you whirled to face him, apparently surprised that he was there, you lost your footing, tumbling backward off the ledge.

For what it was worth, your little adventure had been going pretty well before the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen almost killed you.

There weren’t too many people out tonight, probably because it was disgustingly hot, so you’d made good time–jogging the few blocks to the hotel and sneaking into the elevator with a young couple who were too busy being at each other’s throats to care that you slipped in. The roof was vacant and more perfect than you could’ve dreamed. Swathed in the lights of nearby skyscrapers, you were presented with a gorgeous panoramic view of the Manhattan skyline at sunset, the stark red-orange hue of the sky peeking between towering steel.

Once you’d attached the proper lenses, you began snapping photos, but you couldn’t get the exposure to set correctly. To capture a good picture at this time of evening, you needed the settings to be just so. It was a tedious, attention-consuming process, that, when combined with the soft music blasting from your lone earbud, had prohibited you from hearing someone approach…until he spoke.

“You know, if you fall off that ledge, the effort you went through for that picture will be wasted.” His growl was low, but contained traces of a humor you weren’t expecting.

Damn your anxious self for startling so easily. With a tiny squeal, you slipped from the ledge, your careful posture crumbling as you fell. Your heart lodged in your throat, air rushing into your ears as you began to descend, but before you could even scream, a pair of warm hands grasped you firmly by the arm.

Face jerking up, your eyes locked onto the masked vigilante’s snarl of exertion as he hauled you over the cement shelf and onto stable ground.

Breathing shakily, still in his grip, your face went slack with a nauseating combination of shock and relief. “Th-thank you.”

He let out a puff of a laugh. “You’re welcome. That was a close call. Do I need to call a hotline?”

His lips twitched with a smirk, his face clearly displaying humor despite his eyes being covered by a mask. Head tilted cockily, he seemed to be studying you, maybe evaluating whether you should be in a psych ward.

Shaking your head furiously, you scrambled to your feet, nearly tripping over yourself as you backed away from your savior. “No, I’m good, that wasn’t the plan. I just–”

As you began to retract himself from his hold, his thumb brushed over your forearm, tracing the faintest line over your exposed soulmark. When his fingertip made contact with the lines over your wrist, the world exploded.

When you were a small child, you’d electrocuted yourself when unplugging a lamp. It was an act of rebellion against your parents when they had demanded you clean up after compulsory bible study. The inflicted shock had careened through your entire body, feeling as though you’d been dipped in boiling water and then flash-frozen as your body tried to adapt to the new current. An abrupt change of temperature, the suddenness uncomfortable but the aftermath numbingly calm.

Touching the Devil felt like that.

Your mark glowed with warmth like embers in a dying fire. The hair along your arm stood on end, your heart nearly bursting with energy as you were clobbered with a realization.

“You..you’re my–” You whispered, taking a step closer to the vigilante.

His hand had clasped around your wrist, holding it delicately, chin dipping towards his chest. His breaths were labored, his complexion seeming to grow more pale as he ran a calloused finger over the mark again.

“I don’t–” Dropping your arm as if it had burned him, Daredevil’s face settled into an angry mask as he hurriedly stepped away from you. “I have to go.”

“W-what?” You stammered, running your hands over your arms as your body recovered from his touch, goosebumps undulating beneath your palms. “But we–”

“It’s late. You should get home before it’s too dark.” He responded tersely, turning away from you. Striding across the roof, his hand landed on top of the short stack of bricks, head turning over his shoulder with a sorrowful pout. “I’m sorry.”

Gracefully jumping over the side, he was gone.

Feeling dumbfounded and slightly defeated, you stared after him for a minute before shouldering your bag and beelining for the fire escape.

Karen stretched her arms over her head, groaning softly as the knot of tension between her shoulders unfurled. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she jiggled the mouse on the desk before her, turning her laptop back on to try and appear busy. After the law firm of Nelson and Murdock put Wilson Fisk behind bars, the clientele began to pour in–though whether that was for their proven representation skills or their shitty but functional AC, she wasn’t sure. Regardless, there had been a steady stream of walk-ins this week. And now that it had finally slowed down, she felt almost disappointed.

Being a secretary at the tiny little office was one of the most interesting things she’d ever done. Each case presented completely new realities, new opportunities and challenges. It was like she was given the chance to start fresh every day, and she was grateful for it. But in moments like these where the people filed out of the crooked doors, it made her a bit antsy.

Foggy and Matt were buried in new evidence for a guardianship revocation, holed up in Matt’s office, leaving her to schedule their appointments. She sighed, contemplating whether or not to interrupt them, to ask for something to do. Depending on when the guys would be heading out, they might want dinner or more coffee…

As she was running through a list of takeout that all of them could stomach, that hadn’t been ordered too recently, her phone’s display lit up, a new message appearing on the lock screen. An anonymous message in a chat board she frequented–one dedicated to opinions about Hell’s Kitchen’s hero, Daredevil. 

When she joined the board, she was solely intending to be a spectator. Unfortunately, the internet made it easier for trolls to share their bullshit opinions. Call the vigilante a threat to justice. Say that he should be put down. There was only so much she could handle before her blood boiled over and she sent her responses. 

These days, she was a pretty active poster. She rarely received private messages though, so the notification set her on edge. 

Hesitantly tapping the glowing bubble, she held her breath as it opened. No context, no identifying information, just two bizarre sentences that she was not prepared for.

“I know this is strange but..I think Daredevil might be my soulmate? And I was hoping you might know where I could find him.”

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04 @paradox-brody-chase

[make-me-imagine]

Confession + Relationship Headcanons {K.GW & H.WJ}

Confession + General Relationship Headcanons with Kim Geon-Woo and Hong Woo-Jin (Bloodhounds)

Pairing: Kim Geon-Woo x Gn!Reader; Hong Woo-Jin x Gn!Reader + Geon-Woo x Reader x Woo-Jin headcanons because why not lol.

Requested By: Anonymous

Warnings: Some headcanons revolving around physical affection and kissing. Poly-Headcanons; listed separately and labelled so avoid if you're not into that.

Words: Geon-Woo: 0.5k ; Woojin: 0.4k; Poly: 0.7k Total Word Count: ~1.6k

A/n: Me coming back from hiatus with content for a show no one follows me for? It's more likely than you think!

Kim Geon-Woo

Geon-Woo is fairly reserved until he gets to know someone, so even if he was attracted to you he would keep it to himself until he got to know you better.

He is a big believer in needing to be friends with someone first before starting a relationship.

Even though he waits until you form a bond of friendship, he is head over heels for you, and it is obvious, even to you eventually.

Caught staring at you too often not to notice.

Always offers to help you, or does random things for you.

You make him blush pretty easily, and smile all the time.

Like, giggling and kicking his feet kind of guy if you do something he finds cute.

You would worry you assumed wrong though since he never said anything, but then finally he does confess.

He does it in a reserved and shy way after he walked you home from having dinner with him and Woojin.

He will struggle to keep eye contact at first, but then he will finally get a hold of himself and tell you how he feels.

He will list the things he loves about you, how long he a felt this way, and how much he wants to be with you.

Geon-Woo is ecstatic when you confess you feel the same.

He asks to hold your hand, and is all cute and smiley when you say yes.

Geon-woo loves holding your hand, especially when you are walking around together.

If your hands are a lot smaller than his?? LOVES to engulf your hands in his, especially if you are cold.

Totally the type to give you his jacket when you are cold, even if he is too.

Surprises you with flowers and food to make you smile.

His giving love languages are Acts of Service, Quality Time, and Gift Giving.

His main receiving Love Language is Quality Time, but he enjoys physical touch as well.

He loves hugging you, often from behind so he can rest his head on yours or on your shoulder (depending on the height difference)

He also loves kissing, especially slow kisses when cuddling, you but all of that stays in private.

When you say goodbye to each other he often gives you a kiss to your hand, or forehead though.

And if you kiss him (mainly in public or in front of others) he gets all shy and cute.

Since he loves spending time with or around you, you two go on a lot of cute dates.

Going to the movies, arcades, walks, hiking, short road trips, picnics, museum dates, anything that involves just the two of you is amazing to him.

He is very caring and gentle, and is quite protective without being controlling.

He will always give you space when you need it, and will always be here when you want comfort or company.

Ride or Die, simp, giant green flag, he is all of the above. When he loves he loves with his whole heart and nothing less.

Hong Woo-Jin

Woojin is more bold than Geonwoo so he wouldn't really hide his feelings, or beat around the bush.

Once he meets you and realizes he is very much into you, he is ready to test the waters.

Flirts immedietely.

If you reciprocate and flirt back, he is surprised yet ecstatic.

If you are shy and bashful about it, he finds it adorable and it only makes him want to flirt more just to see you blush.

It took you some time though to realize he was being serious.

He saw someone else showing interest and panicked because he feared he would lose his chance to actually be with you.

When he confessed, his boldness seemed to vanish and he grew shyer than you had ever seen.

He showed up with flowers, a jittery demeanor and a lot of rambling.

But it was honestly adorable.

You were admittedly, a bit surprised to learn he had not just been flirting but had truly been trying to pursue you.

So when he asked you on a date, you were more than happy to say yes.

He is very fun to be in a relationship with. He is down to do pretty much anything and nothing, as long as it is with you.

His love languages, both giving and receiving are Quality Time, Words of Affirmation and Physical Affection.

He is perfectly open to PDA so it depends on how you feel about it.

If you are fine with it, he will be all over you whenever he wants (which is often), if you do not like it, he will stick to an arm around your waist or his hand in yours until you are alone together.

If you initiate PDA he gets giddy he loves it.

Loooves kissing, doesn't care if there are others around to see it (again this depends on you - he wont do things you are uncomfortable with.)

When it is just the two of you he loves being close to you.

Dates with Woojin are often fun and involve some form of activity, and usually food.

Arcades, bowling, mini golf, theme parks, etc..

The dates often last for hours or even a whole day because you enjoy being with each other so much.

He is clingy so even if you want some time alone it is often that he is nearby. He will give you your space, but the second you are fine with him being there he appears like a puppy that had been waiting for you to get home from work.

Will cook for you and take you out to eat all kinds of food.

If you cook for him, he will help you or clean up afterwards.

Will go to the ends of the Earth to protect you and make you happy. Definitely a ride or die kind of boyfriend.

Geon-Woo + Woo-Jin (Poly Relationship)

Being in a relationship with both Geon-Woo an Woo-jin would happen slowly.

Geon-Woo an Woo-jin do not have romantic feelings for one another, but they are so close that being with the same partner poses no issues for them.

In a way they prefer it, they spend so much time together and are so close that having the same partner makes sense in a way.

When they first realized that they both had strong feelings for you thy both backed off, not wanting to steal the others desired partner.

But then, they figured out you had feelings for both of them as well.

Woo-Jin was the first to bring up a possible poly situation to Geon-Woo.

Geon-Woo admittedly was thrown off about this at first, not sure if it would really work out.

But there feelings for you were so strong, and they were so close he couldn't really find any issues with it.

And the idea of one of them being with you and the other not didn't sit well with them, so it was a both or neither situation.

But they were both worried you would hate the idea, and they didn't want to lose you completely so they were cautious about it.

First they both made their feelings for you known, and in a way courted you equally.

You noticed it immedietely and withdrew a bit, because the idea of choosing one and the other being hurt was something you could not do.

Noticing you were running they decided to admit they both had feelings for you and both wanted to be with you.

You were thrown off, confused, and worried it was something they actually didn't want but said it solely to appease each other.

They took the time to explain to you their feelings and how much they both cared about you, and each other.

Every question you had, they had an answer or solution for, and eventually you couldn't really find any issues with it.

You decided to try it out slowly at first, but it quickly felt so right and normal that it became a real relationship pretty quickly.

Everyone who knew you knows the three of you are super close, so none of them really suspect you are in a relationship.

They could see them hugging you and playfully flirting with you and not bat an eyelash.

There is rarely a day the three of you aren't together or around each other.

If you work out, you work out with them - two free personal trainers, and they're hot? If you don't work out you still get to watch them work out. Its a win win situation.

Some days you go on individual dates with them, doing something one prefers over the other.

Then the three of you often go on a group date. Either to the movies, out to eat, a picnic, bowling or activity dates etc. Often having small competitions between the three of you to see who pays.

You are always between them. When sitting, standing, sleeping, cuddling. It's like having two constant teddy bears.

Once your relationship got more serious, Woojin convinced everyone to get giant beds so it didn't matter whose house you were at, if you wanted to sleep over, there was room for all three of you.

Group chat called "Sunshine Protection Squad" because they are basically your body guards. (You are sunshine if that wasn't obvious)

Anyone bothering you? Creepy guys hitting on you? Dangerous situation? They are there ready to protect.

They teach you self-defense and how to fight for times they are not there.

Woojin calls you sunshine and/or sunflower, while Geo-Woo calls you babe/baby or flower. (And also Princes if that matches your pronouns). You are passenger princess no matter what btw.

They like taking care of you, even if it can be overwhelming or stifling. Though they do give you space and alone time when you need it.

They get very good at being able to tell what you want or need even before you say anything.

You are always fed, hydrated and taken care of because they will never let anything bad touch you if they can help it.

xx

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @rexit-mo, @onuen, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

-Taglist Form- *Bloodhounds has been added to form

[talesofesther]

𝔈𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔞 𝔉𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢

↳ 𝐂𝐡 𝐬𝐢𝐱: 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐬

Aemond Targaryen x Reader/fem!OC

Series Summary: You made a promise to Aemond once, when you were young and naive, and the only friend he'd ever known; yet you abandoned him before you could fulfill it. Between broken bonds, a betrothal, and flames that still burn deep within you; this is the story of how you fell apart and found each other again.

A/N: Exploring their whole relationship dynamic is a joy to me, and I hope it's just as wonderful for you guys to read it as well. <3

Word count: 3,5k

Masterlist | Previous chapter

King Viserys's death did not come as a shock, and still, no one expected it to happen when it did. The ones who felt it the most were his brother and his firstborn. But the kingdom could not stand without a King, or, as it had been the late King's wishes, a Queen.

Rhaenyra had no time for mourning before arrangements started being made for her coronation, it needed to happen sooner rather than later, lest the smallfolk started demanding some answer from the crown.

Not two days after Viserys's passing, Rhaenyra's coronation would happen.

Royalty and smallfolk alike gathered at the crown of Rhaenys's Hill, inside the dome of the Dragonpit. All of your family already stood together at the high platform in the middle, waiting patiently as the people slowly filled every vacant space in the large construction. Everyone eager to watch the first Queen have the crown placed upon her head.

"How was she this morning? I didn't have a chance to speak with her." You asked Jacaerys, standing beside him and Lucerys on the far right side of the platform. For the occasion, you dressed with one of your finest gowns; pale grey in cloth, with sewn embellishments in blue, and silver jewelry. You looked around yourself, feeling a twist in your stomach as more and more people filled the dome. More expectant eyes focusing on the Targaryens, on you.

"She seemed…" Jace hesitated for a moment as he thought back to the conversation he had with his mother earlier today, "A little anxious. Expecting someone to object to her claim of the throne, I think."

You shook your head with a soft frown, gaze still skimming over the surroundings. Everyone was present; your father and siblings, Rhaenys and her husband, Alicent and her family. Observing them, your attention landed on your betrothed. Aemond stood at the far left side of the platform, clad in his usual Targaryen blacks and with his hands behind his back; he stood a few steps away from his mother and siblings, his eye gazing far into space.

"No one would dare," you spoke finally, turning your attention to Jace, "They all sworn loyalty to her already, and with the support of all our family, there's no one more fit for the throne than her."

Jace hummed, fidgeting with the pin holding his red cape. "Let's hope everyone agrees to that."

"Ceremony will be starting soon." Your father walked up to you then, one hand clasped around the hilt of his sword, "The Kingsguard is getting into position for Rhaenyra's entrance." He nodded toward the crowd making room for the knights.

"Who will be giving the speech?" You wondered, brushing a thumb over the pendant of your necklace.

"Otto, apparently." Daemon sighed, with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders and poorly concealed disdain in his words, "He enjoys talking."

Both you and Jace chuckled, the latter murmuring a 'tell me about it'.

A soft smile came to Daemon's lips when he took in the sight of you; "Is that one of Laena's?" His voice was a little quieter this time around, a curious crease on his brows.

"Oh, it is," You glanced down at yourself, hands smoothing the fabric of your gown with care, "Baela said it would suit me."

Daemon's smile grew into something fonder, a little nostalgic; "it does."

And at last, the first sound of the trumpets echoed through the dome, prompting immediate silence and attention from the crowds. Knights formed an orderly line, each raising their swords concurrently. Rhaenyra's coronation as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms was about to begin.

You clutched at the fabric of your gown, holding it up just a tad to not step on it, and turned to your father and Jace. "Excuse me," you hushed with a small smile on your lips, before quickly walking to the opposite side of the platform—receiving a mildly annoyed glare from Otto as you skipped in front of him and got to your place at the last minute.

You had considered staying beside your side of the family during the ceremony, but it felt much more proper to stay beside your betrothed instead.

From the far left corner, Aemond caught your gaze as you walked toward him. His lips parted and you could see his eye moving up and down your body before settling back on your face. His expression was serious, but you liked how it softened slightly when he looked at you. Like the way he looked at you was different from how he looked at everyone else.

And perhaps it was, for Aemond could feel his heart stumbling inside his chest when you stopped just beside him, your shoulder shy of touching his. The Prince tightened the grip of his hands behind his back, striving to keep his face impassive but failing to hide his surprise and the surge of warmth on his chest. You had chosen him. You had chosen him over your father, over Jace and Luke.

Aemond wanted to speak, he wasn't sure what he'd say but he wanted to. Yet as he opened his mouth, Otto's speech began. The Prince didn't even notice that Rhaenyra had already made her entrance.

A huff fell past his nose and he looked away. There was a dull ache behind his eyepatch, the path carved by his scar spasming with pain, and he knew a headache would follow if he didn't get a grip of his anger. Yet he felt bitter. Bitter for the injustice that cost him so much, that left him scarred and imperfect. Bitter for the father that never cared for him.

Aemond grimaced at the growing pain inside his skull. There were too many loud voices around him and the colors of the tapestries hurt his remaining good eye. He thought he caught a glimpse of your concerned gaze on him, but before he could be certain he blinked several times on instinct when a sharp wave of discomfort hit him. Aemond reached up carefully, adjusting the eyepatch over his scar in a futile hope of easing his predicament.

Aemond had prayed this morning that the events of the day didn't bring forth his chronic pain. Alas, the gods were ever deaf to his pleas.

Rhaenyra kneeled in front of the priest who blessed her new rule. And Aemond had to bite back a gasp when he felt the softest of touches reach for one of his hands behind his back. The Prince held his breath when your fingers ever so gently closed around his own, he could tell there was hesitance to your touch but that didn't stop you.

Aemond held himself impossibly still, his lungs aching from the lack of air and chest hurting with a thundering heart beneath his ribs. But your fingers were now intertwined with his, and that was all he could feel.

You stayed beside him, hand clasped around his during the entire coronation; behind your bodies and away from prying eyes, keeping your gaze forward just as he did. It wasn't for show, only for him to feel; and the warmth of your presence was foreign to Aemond. He remained unmoving, shoulders tense almost as if bracing himself for something—He is so used to being on his own, he doesn't know how to unlearn that.

But then he felt your thumb ever so gently stroking the back of his hand, slowly up and down, up and down. A steady rhythm that he focused on and tried to match, and felt himself ease into his own body again when a long and shaky breath finally fell past his lips and then back in through his nose; and with it, the ache surrounding his scar subsided slowly.

You squeezed his hand, perhaps as if to say 'I am here'.

You placated his troubled mind and got his walls crumbling like paper under the rain. For a bold second, Aemond wanted to marry you right then and there.

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

Rhaenyra's coronation had gone smoothly, much to everyone's relief. The new Queen now wore her late father's crown, the gold and silver suited her well.

The smallfolk slowly began walking out of the Dragonpit's dome once the ceremony had ended, the only ones remaining were your family and higher Lords and Ladies who would be attending the feast that would shortly be held at the Red Keep, in celebration of Rhaenyra claiming her seat at the Iron Throne.

You still had your hand holding Aemond's, butterflies filled your stomach at the feeling of how tightly he held yours in turn. It took all your might to give it one last squeeze before letting go.

Aemond glanced at you when you did so, almost as if asking why.

It was an endearing sight. His usually sharp eye was soft and a strand of his hair had fallen past his ear—you held yourself back from reaching over to tuck it back. Instead, gave him a tight-lipped smile and a touch to his forearm before taking a few steps away.

You made your way to Rhaenyra, who stood with Rhaenys in deep conversation.

"Congratulations, my Queen," You spoke upon reaching her, holding onto both edges of your gown as you curtsied her, with the beginnings of a teasing smile on your lips.

"Oh, stop, you." Rhaenyra swatted at your arm playfully, her cheeks molding a smile of her own.

You chuckled softly, standing straight again and turning to Rhaenys; "Princess." Curtiesing her as well with a nod of your head, before averting your attention back to Rhaenyra. "The crown certainly suits you."

The Queen breathed in deeply, still growing accustomed to the weight of her duty. "I hope I can make it justice, and honor my father's legacy."

"I am sure you can." You affirmed in the same second with a raise of your eyebrows.

All the while, Rhaenys had attentive eyes on you, with a smirk threatening to show. "You are so much like your father." She mused out loud, not taking her piercing gaze off you. "I'm glad you didn't inherit his callousness."

You felt your cheeks flush with the weight of her attention. You hadn't spoken much with the Queen Who Never Was, more so admired her from afar. Baela had tried to encourage you to strike up conversation with her when you were younger, saying there was nothing to fear and that her grandmother was a sweet woman; but you never had the braveness to do it.

"Well, despite not meeting my own mother, I was fortunate enough to have women in my life who filled that role, and showed me otherwise," you spoke truthfully and with a smile, glancing at Rhaenyra as you did so.

The Queen reached for your forearm, giving it an affectionate squeeze while mimicking your smile.

"Your daughter Laena being one of them, Princess," you addressed Rhaenys again, choosing your words carefully and making a point of holding her curious yet sharp eyes. "I have only fond memories with her."

Before you could have an answer, an eager call of your name reached your ears, and you looked aside to see Baela waving you over from the other end of the raised platform you still stood upon.

You gave your sister a wave to let her know you had heard her, then lowered your chin to Rhaenyra; "Excuse me, my Queen," and to Rhaenys; "Princess," and made your way to Baela.

Rhaenys hummed as she watched your retreating figure. "She's good."

Rhaenyra looked the same way, nodding softly; "She is."

Baela met you in the middle, an excited smile on her features as she reached for your hands, "Oh, let me see." She unceremoniously twirled you around, stealing a giggle from you, to have a perfect view of the gown you wore. Your sister admired with a glint in her eyes how the fabric of the grey and blue gown hugged your body and swayed around your hips.

"I knew it would look marvelous on you," Baela concluded, holding again onto both of your hands. "My mother would've been happy to see you wearing it."

"Oh." You felt warm at Baela's claim, still missing Laena deeply whenever you thought of her. "I am honored that you let me wear it."

"There was no better person for it," she spoke with a fond smile, before it turned into something more mischievous. "And apparently," Baela's voice became quieter and she leaned closer, as if sharing a secret, "It has stolen the attention of another, as well." She raised a brow and tilted her head to the side.

You followed the motion with your eyes, meeting the lingering gaze of your betrothed on you. Aemond's lips parted as he looked at you, rather unabashedly, for a moment longer before turning his eye away.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you subconsciously held tighter onto Baela's hands. You caught Aemond staring, but he caught you staring back.

An amused chuckle came from your sister and prompted your attention back to her. The smile she had was all teasing and knowing; "Go to him, before he comes here and challenges me to a duel for keeping you away."

You groaned, your cheeks becoming even warmer. "Stop it," you grumbled, unable to look her in the eyes lest she read your feelings like an open book.

There was something ever so familiar about watching Aemond isolate himself from the crowd. His mother and siblings stood a few steps away enthralled in conversation along with Otto—well, Helaena seemed to be studying the tapestries hung behind her and Aegon looked about ready to drop dead from boredom, but they were there. Yet as you walked up to Aemond again, you couldn't help but be aware of how he stood aside in his own corner of the world, hands behind his back and eye focused on the glimpse of a darkening sky past the main tall doors.

Your palms grew slightly slick with perspiration as you approached him. You had grown closer over the weeks, it's true, but so much still felt so fragile with him. You walked a tightrope of duty and love, without knowing which side you'd eventually fall to.

When he caught sight of you from the corner of his eye, Aemond slowly turned his head. The corners of his lips twitched with a smile trying to show itself as you came back to him. "My lady," he said softly, only for you.

You gave him a smile of your own as you stopped before him, "The feast will be held soon, I believe," you mused, casting a glance aside at the Lords who'd remained in the Dragonpit with you, "Must say I am not eager to exchange pleasantries."

Aemond hummed, observing the same way you did. "Most of them are unpleasant, truthfully." The Prince frowned at the sight of the lesser royals, they were loud and flamboyant and only interested in sharing gossip over a glass of wine.

"Most ladies at court don't like me much, you know." You shared without much thought, a subconscious easeness that came with being beside Aemond. "Say I'm too… unbecoming, for a lady."

Aemond's frown deepened into something with more purpose and heat behind it. "They say that about you?"

You hummed, still looking away from him and not noticing his concern. "I've heard whispers."

"From whom?" Aemond inquired with a bite to his tone, not directed at you, but to whoever dared to speak a single bad word of you. "Tell me a name and I shall have them removed, to never return," he insisted, fists clenching beside him.

His tone caught your full attention, and you eyed him up and down, noticing his stance, the flared nostrils, and the sharpness of his eye. "Relax, I don't mind the gossip," you breathed, words almost tangling on themselves upon seeing Aemond so… protective. You bit onto the inside of your cheek and took half a step closer. "At least I know how to hold up a sword without tripping over my own two feet." You shrugged with a smile, "More that can be said about Lady Baratheon."

"She?" Aemond scoffed, glancing aside at the woman who stood in the crowd with a hand fan, a puffy dress, and a loud laugh. "She's not even half the woman you are." The Prince spoke a little too easily, words rolling off his tongue before he could reign himself in.

You're speechless for a beat, feeling your lips dry and your heartbeat quicken. "Um, I-" Something between a sigh and chuckle escaped you. "I heard she's to get married to Ser Lannister."

Another hum, Aemond's gaze traveled across your face—over the apples of your cheeks and the sway of your lips. "Yes, even if she hides a swollen belly beneath her dress." He shared, with the sole intention of seeing the reaction he knew he would get from you.

Your lips parted instantly, in the shape of an 'o', "No way. I thought the Lannisters honored tradition." You said in a hushed whisper, eager for more details.

"Her betrothed does." A smirk slowly appeared on Aemond's features. He was enjoying this. "His brother, however, not so much."

You brought a hand up to your mouth to muffle the sound of your laugh; your amused smile, however, wouldn't go away too soon. "Well, that is certainly one for the night."

Aemond agreed with a hum, lowering his chin while pursing his lips. He swayed on his feet a little, feeling uneasiness twist his stomach. Aemond hated feasts and gatherings. They were too loud and too colorful. More often than not, he left them with a pounding headache, unable to sleep at night as his scar throbbed with pain. And there was also the matter of the new talk of the court; the Second Prince had finally been betrothed. He did not look forward to hearing the whispers about how much you were too good for someone as imperfect as he.

"Hey," you called with the softest voice. And whether it was only for no one else to hear, or because you could read him too well and notice his distress, Aemond couldn't know. But he looked at you and saw you looking back at him even softer.

"With everything going on I don't think I've had the time to say this, but-" You continued, holding a pause then with hesitation, your hands fidgeting with the skirt of your gown.

Aemond held onto his breath, half scared of what you were about to say.

"I'm sorry about your father, Aemond."

A long sigh left the Prince's lips, almost disappointed, though he wasn't sure what else he might've been expecting. Aemond gulped, keeping his features impassive yet turning his head away. "He was never a good father to me, he never cared for me or my brothers and sister." Aemond shrugged, jaw clenched. "He only ever cared about her." He shot a glare forward, over your shoulder, and to where Rhaenyra stood.

You didn't have to look to see whom he referred to, well too aware of Viserys' unspoken favoritism. A bitter taste still lingered on your tongue from the night Aemond lost his eye.

"I shall not miss him." The Prince whispered, gazing far away into the distance.

And yet there was a weight to his shoulders that you could see. Perhaps not mourning his father's death, but the father he never really had.

"I know," you said just as quietly. Reconsidering your boldness for only a moment longer before you went ahead and took hold of one of Aemond's hands again. Your grip gentle, barely there, giving him an out if he so desired. He held you tighter. "I know he wasn't a good father for you, Aemond. I know he failed you."

A scoff came from your betrothed, shaking his head with a mocking smile.

"And I'm-" Your lips hovered open, your gaze hazy and unfocused, "I am sorry." The words rolled off your tongue in a slow breath. You knew you weren't apologizing for his father anymore, but for all the years you were not by Aemond's side.

The Prince stiffened at your words, you could feel it in the way his hand trembled around yours. Yet he said nothing.

"But," you pressed on, blinking several times to bring yourself back, and squeezing his hand once, "It's okay to feel something, knowing that he passed." You tried catching Aemond's evasive gaze, but he'd turned his blind side to you. Yet refused to loosen his grip on your hand. "It's okay to feel." You whispered once again, thumb brushing over the back of his hand.

You could see Aemond biting onto his lip, throat working through a heavy gulp. It took a moment, but he eventually found your eyes with his again; his bright eye glinted under the torch lights, but his small smile was an easier one.

Aemond glanced down at your joined hands, at how your fingers fit so perfectly with his own. His skin raised with goosebumps, and before he knew it, he was raising your joined hands to his lips to lay a lingering kiss on your knuckles.

The softness of his lips on your skin stole the air from your lungs, but before you could react, Otto announced your return to the Red Keep.

The feast in celebration of Rhaenyra's new rule would begin.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Next chapter

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[stxrr-strxckk]

Something I noticed about I Saw the TV Glow that I haven't seen anybody mention yet

I saw this movie in theaters back in early may when it was released (Twice!), and it's been lingering in my head ever since then. Something I noticed on my second watch through: When Owen (and the audience) first see the Pink Opaque, we see Tara and Isabel in this sort of 90s nostalgia light, and I always thought they looked quite similar to Maddy and Owen. For example: Here is Owen and Isabel next to each other for reference.

While it's not entirely the same (Owen has softer features and is warmer toned, Isabel is more sharp and cool toned), they do look like they'd at least be related, cousins at least?

Same with Maddy and Tara, though not as much. (They looked more similar after Maddy's haircut, but I'm too lazy to change the photo)

But then, at the end when Owen is rewatching Pink Opaque? It's completely different. That nostalgic effect is gone and all of a sudden Tara is nowhere to be seen (Since Maddy left the world they were trapped in), and Isabel is completely different. Instead of being the confident, strong, WOC we see her as originally, she's just the same boring white protagonist of every little girl's show we grew up on.

And of course Owen is panicking, realizing that he lost his chance: He buried Isabel; she's dead underground, without her heart and instead of being who he truly is where he truly belongs, he's just... Owen. Stuck in suburbia, living the hell of being a queer kid growing up in the suburbs. Except now, he's an adult living a lie, knowing what he could have had is gone and he's stuck.

And another thing: I think the choice of the fun zone being where Owen works is deliberate. Sure, they could have kept him at the theater, but the theater shutting down is not only accurate (sad but true- please support your local movie theaters!) but shows how everyone is moving on from that experience of going to see a movie (and also from the joy of childhood and into adulthood while Owen is still stuck that awkward teenager!) in person- choosing streaming instead.

And we also notice this change in the Pink Opaque when Owen is watching it streaming. This is a reflection of how media felt more special growing up when it was in a physical form. Cds, vinyl, Dvds, casettes, film reels, even game cartridges, we've always had some physical object that bonds us to the worlds of creativity in which artists express themselves. And whether you've noticed or not, it's a special sort of feeling that just... Dies with streaming. Its like you own a piece of the media. Like saying: "This is mine, it's my personal piece of media that belongs to me and only me." and that's always made it feel special. Sure, there may be multiple copies, but this one belongs just to you. Not to mention the ritual of actually putting in cds, dvds, casettes into a player, or playing vinyl on a record player. There's this action you have to take to consume this media that's familiar and sort of gets you to anticipate what you're about to watch (much like Owen and Maddy's ritual of Maddy taping the show then leaving them around school for Owen to find) whereas now, you're just on a streaming service that lots of people own, and you're just mindlessly scrolling through hundreds of options.

Another thing: What do we see when Owen cuts his chest open in the final few minutes? TV static. Like when a tape finishes and you don't take it out of the player. His tape is over, Isabel is dead, and all that's left is the static of his fake life as he slowly rots in this husk. Now with streaming, you don't get that static. His connection with the Pink Opaque stems from his friendship with Maddy, the nostalgia of his favorite childhood show, and of course: his own queerness.

It's no secret this movie is about growing up queer and feeling like something is wrong. Like some part of you missing, the part that makes you normal. I've seen many reviews on IMDB that clearly missed the point, so I really want to spell it out here: THIS IS A MOVIE ABOUT QUEER PEOPLE FOR QUEER PEOPLE. And I've never seen a movie so perfectly encapsulate that feeling more than this one.

From my experience as a queer POC growing up with little to no representation I know this feeling all too well of seeing someone and realizing: "Wow, that's me." And projecting who I wanted to be onto that person. Even though they're not queer, they're not a poc, they're just a character. We try so hard to make them into who we want to be that the image of this character becomes so distorted you barely recognize them. Then, later revisiting that media to realize that a: you've become them, your true self, or b, in Owen's case: that you've buried that person alive and barely recognize yourself now.

It's really such a unique experience that I've never been able to put into words before. These scenes gave me such a visceral feeling and I almost cried in the theater. The scene of Owen in Isabel's dress is just the cherry on top. I myself am lucky enough to not need to transition and growing up I didn't feel as much dysphoria as my other trans friends, but this reminds me of a good friend of mine who used to dress in heels, makeup, skirts, and dresses to try and lessen the dysphoria she felt growing up in the wrong body.

I also love how the movie shows being queer in school.

Like how Maddy asks Owen if he likes girls or boys, and he replies with: "I think I like TV shows."

Avoiding the question because you either don't know the answer, or are so afraid you're gonna get bullied even more for being who you are.

Growing up, there weren't many queer kids in my school. So when we found each other, we stuck together. But for most of school, we were alone. No groups, not many friends, no space at the lunch table for us.

And seeing Owen, I just felt this connection to him almost immediately. Alone, not part of any group, until he finally finds Maddy. They don't have anything in common except the show, which is really the only reason they're friends, but it keeps them together, They're bonded.

For me, I see this as finding another queer kid in a mostly straight school. You may not have much in common, but that identity means you two will stick together, no matter what.

TLDR: I love isttvg, it makes me cry, everyone is gay and fuck imdb.

[danikamariewrites]

Taken (part 1)

Cassian x f!reader

A/n: I realized I haven't written much for Cass so I decided he gets a two-parter

You can read part 2 here

Warnings: angst, kidnapping, violence, Beron Vanserra being a dick

The room had gone silent, there was a slight ringing in Cassian's ears. Someone had taken you. Someone had taken you from your home. And he wasn’t there to protect you or stop it or kill the person who dared touch you. You’re his mate, and he failed at the one job he had, protecting you.

“Cassian,” Rhys spoke softly, noticing Cassian's hands were curled into fists at his sides. The red siphons strapped to the back of his hands were glowing as his rage simmered. “We will get her back. Whatever it takes. Azriel should be back soon, he said he has a lead.”

He knew what you would say to him if you were here right now. ‘Don’t worry Cass I’m fine. I can handle myself.’ He knew you could. He had been training you since the mating bond snapped. But you didn’t grow up like him. Training every day, honing your body into a weapon.

You grew up studying history, learning languages, and everything about the courts of Prythian. Your mind was strong. You were witty and the smartest person he’d ever met.

Cassian always joked that he was the brawn to your brains and that’s why the cauldron had mated you. But smarts didn’t always get you out of a sticky situation.

Azriel burst through the door, Feyre and Mor on his heels. Cassian turns to face his brother, his rage nearly boiling under his skin. “Who. Took. Her.” He demanded through gritted teeth.

Azriel took a cautious step forward, putting on the mask of Spymaster, attempting to remove his personal feelings from the situation. “Y/n put up one hell of a fight. The house was a mess but I was able to recover this,” Azriel holds out an armored shoulder plate in his scarred hand. “She knew to leave a clue, Cassian. We’re going to find her.”

Cassian took the armor from his brother, examining it. It was bronze, with the insignia of Berons personal hit squad carved on the curve of the metal. Rhys rounds the corner of his desk to examine it.

“Get Nesta and the Valkyries ready, you two get ready as well,” he says to his mate and Mor. “We need to form a plan,” Rhys commands. “No!” Cassian's booming voice echoes around the office. His family pauses, waiting for him to explode.

He shoves the armor into Rhys’ chest. “I’m not fucking waiting for you. I’m going ahead. I’ll see what we’re dealing with.” He stomps towards the door, Azriel stepping in his way. “Cassian, you know how bad of an idea that is.” Cassian growls at his brother but Azriel doesn’t back down.

“I hate to do this Cass,” Rhys starts, Cassian’s back stays turned to him, “but Az is right. As your High Lord, I am ordering you to wait until we are prepared to leave.”

———

You heard a door open and shut echo across the cavernous dungeon, and a male's angry voice muffled by whispers. You didn't dare open your eyes out of fear the guard stationed at your cell door would announce it. So you lay on the floor, pretending to be unconscious.

It was better to catch people off guard when you could, Cassian taught you that. Cassian! Judging by the small amount of sunlight coming in through the tiny window in the cell, it was late and he had to know you were missing by now.

You had tried to reach out to him through the bond a few times but it was no use. Your abductors had used a lot of Fae Bane to subdue you, and the wards around the Forest House were strong. Beron was a very paranoid person and left nothing to chance.

The male's heavy footsteps approach, accompanied by two other pairs. You tried not to let the scent of your fear be known. “Open the door.” You know that voice. Beron had come to see you himself. Something had to be going on if he was desperate enough to have you kidnapped.

He entered the cell, crouching over you. He grabbed your face, squeezing hard. Your eyes fly open, anger overtakes your features as you struggle to get away. He pulls you into a standing position as he looks down at you. “Now, now y/n. You should know better than to struggle.” you stop, your breathing heavy. You weren't an idiot. You wanted to live long enough to attempt an escape, so you'd obey for now.

Beron roughly pushes your face, letting go. Never breaking eye contact you growl out, “What do you want?” He backhands you across your face so hard you fall, hitting the stone floor. Recovering quickly you scramble away from the High Lord of Autumn clutching at your face. You could feel a large bruise forming.

He stands scowling at you, “It's too early to be taking that tone with me y/n. But I will sate your curiosity.” you push into the damp stone wall, hoping you'd fall through it and escape.

“You are Rhysands go-to for translating languages and whatnot.” ok, so he knew your job title. Big deal. “I've come across something rather rare, my people have looked at it but the incompetent fools failed at translating it. You will translate it for me.” He stares down at you expectantly.

It's clear the other High Lords didn't know about Beron's little find, but you had to make sure. “I take it the other High Lords are unaware of this.” He huffs out a laugh. “No, and it will stay that way. You do serve another purpose being here though.” you tilt your head giving him a curious look.

“Your little inner circle is keeping secrets. I didn't think Rhysand would be so careless but alas, I found this in my idiotic son's study.” Beron takes a crumpled piece of paper from his breast pocket holding it out to you. You lean forward slightly to make out the message.

Shit. That was one of the first letters between Rhys and Eris after Hybern. Shit, shit, shit. And Beron knows they’ll show up for you. It's not a secret you and Cassian are mates. Shit. This is a trap. And you're the bait.

The panic showed on your face as Beron smirked at you, knowing he won. He turns to leave, saying, “I'll send guards for you when I'm ready.” The cell door slammed shut and the guard went back to his watch position as Beron and the other two walked away. He was going to leave you here all night. Just to emphasize how powerless you were in this whole situation.

———

By the time the plan was set and everyone was armed to the teeth Cassian was fuming. Too much time had passed for his liking. He was going out of his mind, thinking of all the negative what-ifs. And he couldn't feel you down the bond.

He had reached out a million times and nothing. It was still there but that wasn't enough for Cassian. If he kept thinking about it he was going to be sick.

Rhys’ voice broke him from his thoughts, “You know what your assignments are. We have no room for error. And remember, this could very well be a trap we're walking into. So stay alert.” Everyone nodded.

The plan was that Azriel would winnow in first, then send the all-clear to Rhys for Feyre and Nesta, then Mor and Emerie. And he and Rhys last. They would sneak into the Forest House from four different spots. Nesta and Emerie would take out guards where they could. Mor, Feyre, and Rhys would keep trouble off their backs and find Eris. And He and Azriel would head for the dungeons to get you out.

Rhys grabbed Cassian's arm. The world fell away, darkness consumed his sight, and then the forest of Autumn bathed in moonlight was around him. The air smelled crisp and earthy.

He took a deep breath and followed his brother toward the Forest House.

———

You couldn't sleep. You tried different spots on the floor but your anxiety kept your heart pounding at the thought of Beron coming back for you.

You were sitting against the wall, knees pulled into your chest. The guard had yelled at you an hour ago for fidgeting too much, so you've been sitting in this position since. You didn't want to see what he would do if you moved around again.

You began absent-mindedly running your fingers against the stone wall. On your second pass over a certain spot, your finger caught slightly. You ran your finger over the spot again. And traced the crack in the wall up and over.

Laying your palm over the space you felt a slight breeze. This wasn't just a crack in the stone, it was a door to a secret passage. At that moment something in your brain clicked. You've studied every High Lord in Prythian, even the layouts of their houses.

You knew exactly where this passage led. The guard was your only problem. You could do this. Cassian taught you how to sneak up on people. You just had to stay calm.

You moved into a crouching position and slowly made your way over to the bars. His quarterstaff was held lax at his side. You stuck a hand through the bars grabbing the staff. Before he knew what was happening you brought the staff up to his throat. Grabbing the other end you pulled him against the bars, choking him until he passed out. You let him down slowly, so his body didn't make noise.

You push and push against the secret door. After a few minutes, it finally gives in. You start crawling in the dark and dusty passageway. It clearly hadn't been used in centuries.

You didn't want to get ahead of yourself, but this escape route was looking promising.

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane

[bambidixon]

I've been thinking about them. A LOT. I mean it sooo

First thing first They're so “The exit” by Conan gray

Feels like we had matching wounds— the way they grew up

But mine's still black and bruised and yours is perfectly fine—She being stuck in the past unable to form bonds with new people while Daryl finding his place with his new family

Feels like we've buried alive something that never dies— the past and ofc Merle

NOWW some things I've been thinking about

I don't think she would like Carol at all at leats until the prison maybe? they would eventually become friends and probably before she and daryl get together.

She would hate Rick, not that much but she would find him quite annoying.

I feel that she would get along with the Greene family, in fact she would be closer to them than to the rest of the group.

Beth would be her first real friend and Hershel the first man she trusts other than Daryl and Merle and I'm dying on that hill

She has something that Daryl gave her (a necklace, a ring, a diary idc anything) and she takes it everywhere

About how I think things would happened...

So she left, but I don't think she's going to leave Daryl behind just like that. He's all she has, and Daryl's "friendship" is the only stability she's ever known. I believe their it will happen gradually , probably starting during their time on the farm. In the first days, she and Daryl are both busy looking for Sophia—there's no time for buddies talks, and things don't seem to have changed between them. But as the days pass, she can't help but notice how much finding Sophia means to him, and she just doesn’t understand it. From her perspective, that girl is probably dead, and Daryl is risking his life for nothing. Yet, she keeps her thoughts to herself bc she knows better than arguing with him.

Their first real argument happens when Andrea mistakenly shoots him. She's furious—Daryl could have been killed, and it feels like no one else truly cares. She’s the only one who went out looking for him. They end up yelling at each other, both too stubborn to back down.

Things don’t change much until Sophia is found, already turned into a walker in the barn. The entire situation leaves Daryl angry and disillusioned with everyone. He retreats to what he knows—her—but it no longer feels the same. There’s a discomfort, a sense that Daryl no longer belongs by her side, and it bothers her.

Their distance grows when Daryl starts to bond with Carol. Is she jealous? YES ABSOLUTELY, but not in a possessive way—more in the sense that Carol is actually good for him unlike her, and he seems happier around these people, more like his true self. As his connections with the group strengthen, the gap between them widens—though it's more that she distances herself from him than the other way around.

After the farm burns down, when they’re camping with the group, she overhears Carol asking Daryl to leave with her and separate from the group. For a moment, she wants to say something, because who is she to think she can just take Daryl away like he's some lucky charm? But Daryl’s refusal to leave stops her.

Ultimately, I think she would leave after Merle’s death. She realize that if Daryl is happy and has chosen to stay with these people, she wouldn’t be the one to take away his chance at having a family, even if she’s no longer part of it.

[nagislemontea]

BEING REI AND RITSU’S LITTLE SISTER.

— Headcanons.

Having the hereditary condition your brothers do as well, you got sent to the same school as them so that they could keep an eye on you. 

Congrats you’re the favourite sibling— Ritsu doesn’t dislike you, in fact, he approaches you often to either sleep on your lap, or invite you to the Tea Club. Rei equally adores both you and Ritsu, but since you don’t ignore him, you’re typically the one experiencing his doting behaviour. 

Rei‘s usual absence during his second year and before affected you as well. You had guessed his intentions, but that didn’t stop the overwhelming loneliness you’d feel at times. You and Ritsu grew even closer in that period of time, being each other’s pillars of support. 

Ritsu would confide in you, as you do with him. He does little things, such as patting your head in approval; take you to a shaded area if the sun got too much; letting you borrow his sleeping masks; taking you to see his unitmates, so that you can have more older siblings to look after you. 

With that, you’d hung around the Knights quite a lot, growing close with the members, especially Arashi, who seems adamant on acting as an elder sister for you. There are times where she’d take you shopping for new clothes (During a cold, sunset evening preferably). You guys would drag Ritsu with you if given the chance too as well. 

You had grown close with Koga during Rei’s absence as well, you’d eventually found out that Rei had personally asked him to take care of you during his leaves. You’d confided in Koga at some point about Rei, now he teaches you plenty of card games to beat Rei in as a form of revenge. 

Now, when Rei came back, you didn’t ignore him, but you did tell him how you felt. He dotes on you more in his own way as a result; letting you beat him in those card games; taking you on walks in the gardens to chat with him; letting you use his coffin with the air conditioner; hugging you everytime he sees you, and a lot more. He’s doing his best to make up for what you’ve missed out on for the past year. 

You act as a bridge to connect your two brothers, no matter how awkward it may be. You know Ritsu doesn’t truly loathe Rei, but more so has lost trust in him from his promise to care for them yet left abroad majority of the time. You also understand that’s part of the reason Rei had become more doting than ever. So, with the free time you have, you often try to arrange sibling bonding times to help them out a bit. 

There had been a time that you three were on a train on the way home; you fell asleep on Ritsu’s shoulder; Rei fell asleep on yours; Ritsu surprisingly stayed awake to watch over you two. Though nothing was said at that moment, both Rei and Ritsu were incredibly thankful that you, their youngest sibling, cared for them as much as they cared for you. 

[emilystheories]

ACOTAR if the books were written from Tamlin's perspective

Exploring the nuance that the fandom often overlooks.

The ACOTAR series is told in first-person perspective. Although this allows us insight into the inner workings of certain character's minds, it also means that these accounts can be biased, or lacking nuance. To this day, Tamlin's perspective has not been shared, and I want to attempt to do that.

Please note that although the books were predominately told from Feyre's viewpoint, it doesn't mean that her thoughts and feelings are invalid. I am also not condoning Tamlin's actions (explaining ≠ excusing). These are fictional books; breaking them down and considering different angles is of great merit - even if you don't personally agree.

The story of Tamlin; how it all started.

Tamlin grew up in an extremely violent and abusive household - the extent of which largely remains unknown to the readers. We do know that his parents did not love each other, and that his father and two older brothers were canonically worse than Lucien's (and we know how bad they are).

Tamlin's father was even friends with the King of Hybern and Amarantha; two of the most insidious individuals in Prythian. In fact, Tamlin's father would regularly drag him along to visit them. It was during these visits that Amarantha grew to desire Tamlin, presumably when he was still rather young.

Amarantha then continued to sexually harass Tamlin for centuries. As readers, we do not know exactly what Amarantha did to Tamlin during that time; he is yet to open up about it.

An unlikely ruler.

Tamlin never wanted to rule the Spring Court. He stated that if he did, his brothers would have killed him "before he could reach adolescence." As a result, his only choice was to join the brutality of the army.

Instead, what Tamlin actually wanted was to become a travelling musician, spending his days playing the fiddle.

However, when Tamlin's entire family was (justifiably) murdered by Rhys and his father, he was forced into the role of High Lord of the Spring Court. Unlike Rhys, Tamlin had no friends or Inner Circle to help him, or to offer him support.

Although Tamlin rightfully shares the blame in what happened to Rhys's family, we still never received his version of events. Many have theorised that Tamlin was tortured by his brothers and father for the information about Rhys's family (as at this point, Tamlin and Rhys were best friends); I believe this to be likely.

Whatever the circumstances, one thing was now clear - Tamlin was entirely alone.

A reign ravaged by Amarantha.

Despite the circumstances, Tamlin does his best to rule the Spring Court. Although he is still largely inexperienced, he is vigilant about not following in the footsteps of his abusive father and brothers.

However, his efforts are halted when Amarantha, the woman who has relentlessly sexually and romantically pursued him for years, curses his entire court, and turns his heart to stone. Tamlin is forced to watch all of his companions and court advisors either die, or suffer tremendously, as a result of the curse.

Despite this, Tamlin does what he can for his people - even those outside of his court; offering shelter and employment to countless refugees.

In fact, when one of Tamlin's civilians was killed by Amarantha, he carried the faerie in his arms and into the gardens. He then buried the faerie with his own hands; "a High Lord, digging a grave for a stranger."

Meeting Feyre; the beginning of the end.

By chance or fate, Tamlin met Feyre Archeron. She was the first person he had ever loved in 500 years - the only one to make him feel "less alone."

Tamlin brought Feyre's family out of poverty and healed her father's leg. He rebuilt the art gallery for her. He was the first person to recognise the sacrifices she had made for her family. Most of all, Tamlin fell in love with Feyre in her human form - exactly as she was, with no mating bond to biologically pull her to him.

Prior to the events of Under the Mountain, Tamlin tells Feyre that he is "not her jailor." He tells her that she doesn't need a "keeper," as he kneels before her, and dedicates a song on his fiddle to her.

So, what changed?

Under the Mountain.

Amarantha happened.

Tamlin was forced to witness the woman he loved be brutalised and tortured. Knowing Amarantha was in love with him, Tamlin is powerless to help Feyre; to make his feelings known, means instant death for her. It is why Tamlin gets on his knees and begs Rhys to keep Feyre's identity a secret.

However, Feyre is ultimately killed. She was only brought into this situation because of Tamlin; he is riddled with guilt and despair.

Yet, by some miracle, Feyre is resurrected. Tamlin now has the chance to protect Feyre, to save her, in all the ways he was unable to before.

However, he goes overboard. He becomes possessive and controlling. Despite promising Feyre that he was not her "jailor," he locks her in the manor. He shuts Feyre out. The trauma only festers - for both of them.

Tamlin's behaviour was abusive. Feyre had every right to leave, and she was far better off for it.

Readers react (but, is it fair?)

It is for the above reason that Tamlin is one of the most hated ACOTAR characters. That hatred is justified.

But, where is that same hatred for all other SJM characters who behaved just as badly as Tamlin? Or, those who behaved even worse?

Rhys is still the character who:

Drugged Feyre and made her dance provocatively Under the Mountain (until she threw up). Rhys later admits he did this in part to make Tamlin jealous.

Twisted Feyre's broken arm to enforce consent.

Kept a 24/7 shield around her (the same sort of action Tamlin is criticised for...).

Refused to tell Feyre that her pregnancy would likely be fatal (despite their 'no secrets' promise); stripping her of the autonomy to make decisions over her own body.

Then, threatened to kill Nesta when she revealed this information.

And I hear you - "Rhys was just trying to protect Feyre!" Yet, wasn't that Tamlin's motive too?

This double standard exists for most other SJM characters:

[TOG Spoilers] Rowan, one of the most powerful fae warriors to ever exist, punches Aelin, a 19 year old who is newly discovering her fae abilities, so hard in the face that she hits a wall and bleeds. He then tells her that she should have "died long ago". Tamlin never directly laid his hands on Feyre. Yet, Rowan does, and his behaviour is always excused (and even romanticised). What's more, is that his relationship with Aelin is one of the most highly regarded.

[TOG Spoilers] We then have Manon who committed literal mass genocide for centuries (and delighted in it), even killing her own sister in the process.

There's Azriel who has a twisted affinity for torturing people.

Nesta who was verbally and emotionally abusive towards Feyre throughout their childhood.

Don't get me wrong, I love all of these characters. They are nuanced, morally grey individuals; this complexity is what makes SJM books so great.

Yet, why does this same nuance rarely exist for Tamlin?

Considering the events from Tamlin's perspective.

Readers criticise Tamlin for collaborating with Hybern to 'get Feyre back.' However, from Tamlin's perspective, Rhys was the person who willingly served Amarantha for the past 50 years. Tamlin also believed Rhys's facade that he was the insidious dictator of the infamously cruel Night Court. What's more, Tamlin is also aware of Rhys's mind control powers. So, when he receives a vague letter from Feyre (who as far as he knows, couldn't read and write), of course he is suspicious.

Tamlin truly believes that Rhys has kidnapped Feyre, and that she is in danger. In order to rescue her, Tamlin pretends to work with Hybern. He jeopardises the safety of his civilians, puts his entire court at risk - all to save the woman he loves.

If Rhys sacrificed the Night Court to save Feyre, we would deem it an act of true love. So, why do we condemn Tamlin?

What's more, both readers and characters blame Tamlin for the King of Hybern's actions; that Elain and Nesta went into the Cauldron because of him.

However, as soon as Tamlin realised Hybern's true plans, he blew his cover in an attempt to stop the King. He was the ONLY character who lunged for Hybern in an attempt to save Elain (whilst everyone else stood there in shock).

Shortly after, Tamlin realises that Feyre left him willingly. That she is with Rhys, and they are mates. Then, Lucien, Tamlin's only friend, leaves for the Night Court too.

To top it all off, in an act of revenge, Feyre orchestrates for the downfall of the Spring Court - an action that risks the lives of countless innocent civilians. As a result, Tamlin now has no one. No court.

Tamlin has nothing left.

Tamlin's choice.

If we are all being honest with ourselves, most people in Tamlin's position would feel immense resentment. Many would resort to revenge, just as Feyre did. However, Tamlin never takes this path - he never gives in to the hatred and bitterness that could so easily consume him. He chooses otherwise.

Not only did he turn the tide in the war, saving Feyre and Elain's life;

Not only did he resurrect Rhys - the man who took so much from him;

But above all else, he wished for Feyre to "be happy."

Yet, despite all of this, although most other characters got their happily ever after, Tamlin now roams around the decimated Spring Court. He stays in his beast form, as if he doesn't even feel worthy of being fae - of his humanity. Tamlin is depressed, and very alone. He has always been alone.

To me, his character can be summarised by this quote;

"I sat with my anger long enough, until he told me his real name was grief."

Tamlin's redemption.

Some believe that Tamlin deserves no redemption. That instead, he is better off dead. However, I think that sends a rather grim message to the myriad of people who suffer in the same way that Tamlin does.

To those who externalise their pain, rather than internalise it. To those who were never shown love as a child, and therefore struggle to display it as an adult. To those who were hurt by the people they trusted most, so they hurt others in return. To those who still hold onto guilt over their past. To those who try to be a better person, but still feel like a failure deep down.

That doesn't mean that Tamlin's past actions should be excused, or even forgiven, But, just like every other character, it does mean he should have the chance to heal.

In her most recent interview, SJM says it herself; that no character is doomed to be an "asshole" forever, and that any day you could choose to wake up and be a better person - to live a better life.

A fairytale ending.

Ultimately, ACOTAR was inspired by Beauty and the Beast, and Tamlin is the perfect personification of the Beast. Not just for his shapeshifting form, as we came to believe in the first book. But rather, just as the Beast in the fairytale was a man haunted by his past mistakes, so too is Tamlin.

Yet, as the tale goes, the Beast's once hardened exterior begins to melt away, and he is able to look towards the world with kindness. To love again. To love himself. When this happened, the enchanted rose came back to life.

I believe this foreshadows what will occur with Tamlin in future books. As he begins to heal, to find his place in the world, he will blossom.

And, so too will the Spring Court gardens around him - vibrant again, once more.

[muzansfangs]

Demon Slayer Oc — Yuki Urokodaki.

Name: Yuki Urokodaki;

Height: 5’7”;

Birthday: December 19th;

Age: 22;

Breathing techinque: Ice breathing technique, derived from the Water breathing technique; before learning the Water breathing style, she had learnt the Moon breathing technique from Kokushibo;

Occupation: Ice Hashira; alternatively, in the Kimetsu Academy timeline, she is a private detective;

Sexuality: straight;

Status: deceased;

Cause of death: major injuries sustained during her battle against the Upper Moon Two in the Infinity Castle Arc;

Affiliation: The Demon Slayer Corps; formerly, due to her bond with the Upper Moon Two and his connections with the Kizuki, Muzan Kibutsuji;

Partner(s): formerly, Douma (Upper Moon Two); married to Rengoku Kyojuro until his death;

Eye color: ice blue;

Hair color: chestnut brown, fading into white when she performs the last form of her breathing technique;

Mark: her mark consists in a reddish snowflake on her right cheek;

Relatives: Sakonji Urokodaki (grandfather);

Nayoko Fukuda (mother) †;

Ichisake Urokodaki (father) †;

Senjuro Rengoku (brother-in-law);

Shinjuro Rengoku (father-in-law);

Kyojuro Rengoku (husband) †;

Personality: rational, ambitious, cruel and not keen to forgive easily. Caring with the loved ones, she tends to mask her true feelings not to show weakness and be consoled. Not overly affectionate, she struggles to display empathy to the others due to her traumatic past.

Ranking: weaker than Gyomei, stronger than Sanemi.

𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑺𝑯𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑲𝑺 𝑨𝑩𝑶𝑼𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑷𝑰𝑳𝑳𝑨𝑹𝑺.

𝑩𝑨𝑪𝑲𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝒀.

Born during a stormy winter night, Yuki was the daughter of the former Water Pillar, Ichisake Urokodaki, Sakonji’s son, and the Kinoe Nayoko Fukuda. She lost her parents the same night by the hand of Kokushibo. Taking pity on the baby, he brought her to the Eternal Paradise Cult, where she grew up under Douma’s watch.

Training her to become a swordsman to defend herself, and manipulating the girl into believing upper demons were actually good gods, Douma allowed her to hunt down the lower ranks lurking in the forests around the Temple, narrating they were bad spirits envious of the upper ranks and, as such, in need to be purified.

Years went by and Douma asked Kokushibo to teach her the Moon breathing-technique. Albeit she did her best to master it, she soon realized she was not made to own it completely. A fateful encounter with her grandfather opened her eyes and she learnt the Water breathing style easily, soon forging her own one, inspired by Douma’s ability to manipulate ice.

While she had developed feelings for her savior and friend, Yuki began to acknowledge the truth about demons and grew suspicious. Hiding her inklings from Douma, she let her feelings for the man unfold. The short-living love story abruptly came to an end, when she bumped into Akaza and found Douma covered in blood in his chambers.

Leaving the Temple for the final selection, she swore to Douma she would have never denied their bond, but that, if they ever met again, she was going to kill him.

Yuki and Kyojuro met during the final selection. He was the only one who made her smile and they never lost touch throughout the years. Not even when she became a Pillar before he did. Their bond grew more intimate, until he eventually confessed his feelings and asked her to marry him.

Unfortunately, Kyojuro died before her eyes and she lost her baby for the injuries and stress she had endured during the battle. From that day on, Shinjuro let her live at his Estate and provided her comfort for her loss.

She was hiding at the Ubuyashiki Estate with Gyomei, when Muzan made his appearence. She died in the arms of Douma, who had granted her the chance to see the sunlight for the last time.

𝑻𝑹𝑰𝑽𝑰𝑨 — 𝑻𝑨𝑰𝑺𝑯Ō 𝑺𝑬𝑪𝑹𝑬𝑻𝑺.

• Yuki’s blade changed its color after Kyojuro’s death, turning into a crimson red;

• Her favorite breakfast consist in lemon tea and two slices of bread coated in honey. In her Estate, she keeps enormous jars of honey from the different regions she has visited during her missions. The only person who is allowed to take them is Kyojuro;

• When she first met Tengen she kicked him right on the crotch, for he had tried to make her his fourth wife. Albeit she esteem him to be insufferable, she actually gets along with his wives and told them to call her, if they needed to beat him up;

• Her crow is albino and is named Kōri (ice). She bought a small blue scarf for him to wear during the winter;

• Douma actually planned to marry her. She was the only one who almost made him feel genuine emotions. When she left the Temple, he went back to be completely apathetic;

• She hates the sea and summer. Albeit she does not think her breathing style is badly affected by the high temperature, she noticed some forms are less effective than others during sultry summer nights;

• She learnt to mend her own wounds properly to avoid spending time at the Butterfly Estate, after Kanae’s death. Her relationship with Shinobu grew cold through the years. Their interactions are rare and cordial;

• Kokushibo scarred her cleavage during a training session. She felt so ashamed of it to cover up her chest for the rest of her life;

• Shinjuro despised her, at first. He believed someone who had been raised by a demon could not stain the Rengoku reputation. He refused to talk to her until she announced him she was pregnant with Kyojuro’s baby;

• She never got to tell Kyojuro she was pregnant. When she lost her baby, she claimed she lost the most precious gift her husband had left her with;

• Inosuke deemed her as his older sister and ofted asked her to sleep over at her Estate, asking her not to tell anyone about it;

• Sakonji did not reveal his real identity to her until she came back from the final selection, afraid she was going to lose her focus during the fight.

• Beside Giyuu, Kyojuro was the only person she told her story to and he encouraged her to open up with the others as well. The only one who reacted badly was Shinjuro, who attempted to kill her in front of the other Pillars, before he retired due to his wife’s death and his alcoholism. She stopped Kyojuro from confronting his father, reassuring him she was fine.

• She likes fancy jewels and silky clothes, along with saké and water pipes. Her tastes have been deeply influenced by Douma and his lifestyle.

• She absolutely hates slow walkers, wasps and green tea. Not much of a hugger, she used to knock down whoever tried to embrace her before Kyojuro finally convinced her it was natural for people to be vulnerable and needing physical touch.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Did I finally have the guts to publish my Demon Slayer OC? Yes, I did. I have cut some scenes and explanations from her backstory not to spoiler too much about her. If you have questions about Yuki, please, send me asks in my inbox! Let me know what you think about her!

Until next,

x o x o

Credits for the fanarts: me, in fact they suck.

Credits for the banners: @cafekitsune

[villainessprefect]

title: This is Where I Belong (With You)

summary: You left Twisted Wonderland and life never really was the same. You miss what you had. You miss him.

And he misses you too. Enough to try and answer your wish.

ship: Idia x gn!reader

word count: 3,797

note: I try my hand at a ‘you come back to twst after going home’ fic

Read on AO3

A deep and long sigh escapes you as your gaze lingers on the screen held in the palm of your hand. The light illuminates your face, forcing your eyes to adjust to the brightness. Regardless of your vision, you don't actually read the messages popping into your notifications. Even if your name is mentioned, you don't feel like you belonged in this group.

It's all...complicated. They were your friends, but the bonds formed felt so distant. As if you were only there out of pity and proximity. You were an addition by chance not by choice.

You lift your head to gaze at the world around you. This magicless, dull world that you yearned for so much. The safety and familiarity of a world you grew up in. Here, you are normal, like every other face in the crowd. People don't scorn you for your ordinary features. You fit into this lifeless and empty world. Despite being born and raised here, you don't feel like a part of this world.

Yet, this is your home. It always had and always will be.

The grip on your phone tightens. The black cat charm that dangles from it sways and brushes against your skin thanks to the night breeze. Neglecting the conversation continuing, you shove the phone into your pocket. It's not important anyway.

A hand grips at the strap of the messenger bag slung over your shoulder. You squeeze the strap before beginning your journey back to your apartment. With your body on auto-pilot and mind in a haze, you easily drift amongst the sea of people. No one stands out, no one tries to pester you, no one pays attention to you. Everyone follows their own mechanical routine.

Life is so simple without magic.

Sometimes you wondered if it had all been a dream. Your time in Twisted Wonderland felt so far away like a different life time. Could a world of magic really exist? It all felt so fantastical that it was hard to believe at times.

The scars left on your body were real. The little marks from getting into trouble with your friends to the piercing wounds from a dangerous Overblot. If you were ever to forget, your body certainly wouldn't. They were proof of your adventures and heroic deeds. A testament that you had lived to tell an impossible tale.

And you couldn't possibly forget the memories created during your time in that world. Many may have left a horrendous stain, but in the end they were fond to look back on. No matter what your mind would claim, your heart would fight otherwise. Those friendships were irreplaceable. Even if you were in another world, they would always be tied to your heart.

What truly kept your belief in that world was the singular gift that had survived the trip back with you. This, unlike the others, was concrete proof. The hand gripping your strap releases it only to reach for something else. A cold piece of metal rests upon your chest, hidden by your shirt and kept close to your heart. Fingers carefully glide over the small, skull-shaped mechanism.

It was a gift from Idia. One given when your friendship truly cemented and you knew you had unlocked his route, as he would say.

"I-It's a hotspot! P sure it's better than whatever your dorm has...actually, it's probably better than anything this school can offer you that isn't made by me, fuehehe!"

"Really? This is so cool! I promise not to lose it."

"I-It's nothing...Bet you didn't know it also has a s-secret function."

"What is it?"

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret, now would it?"

The memory brings a smile to your face. Despite never finding out the secret, you still kept the little gift. Surprisingly, it still worked even in this world. While the speed diminished, it still did the job. You may not be so heavily reliant on the internet like him, but damn did this thing come in handy. And every time you used it, it almost felt like he was here to offer his assistance and give you the world wide web himself.

The smile you wear falls almost as easily as it appeared. Thoughts of him left a sharp pang in your heart. A pain so familiar- too familiar. It was hard not to think of him, but how could you not when he left such an impression on you? That genius shut-in of Ignihyde who could make the impossible possible with a little tinkering. If given the right push, he really could accomplish anything. The way he could cower away from a crowd one second and then go off on a passionate rant the next with the right topic. His love of video games was so sincere which was something you could resonate with.

The stinging sensation in your chest continues to jab the longer you dwell in your memories. You're used to it at this point. Was it a good or bad thing? You prefer the former as it's a sign that your feelings were still there.

You grip the skull in your hand and wonder if you should have stayed behind in that world with him. A confession had never left either of your lips. Whether it be out of fear on his end or yours, you couldn't tell. But you didn't want to start something that would abruptly come to an end with your departure. Still, you couldn't help but think about the 'what ifs'. If he had said anything, or if you had...would you have stayed? Maybe...Maybe...

Maybe if you saw him on your final day, the outcome would have been different. It was silly, hypocritical thinking. You wanted a silent departure, to not cause a fuss at the school, the complete opposite of your arrival. You wrote a letter to everyone instead of gathering with them knowing how difficult it would be if you were to face them. Selfish. That's what you called yourself. But after seeing Grim's reaction upon learning that you were leaving, how could you handle everyone else's? Seeing the cat's eyes well up and hearing his cries, his pleas to keep you here nearly made you stay.

Idia got his own letter. There was still so much to say, so much to talk about, games to play, anime to binge. You wished him the best in his life, for a budding future for him and Ortho, and, while a little hopeful, you wished that he could one day change his fate. You never signed the letter with a goodbye, rather a wish to meet him again one day.

But you know that isn't possible. Crowley had warned you that leaving meant never returning. If you possessed some sort of magic, it may be possible. But you possessed none.

The skull meets with your skin once more, eyes glowing blue for just a second. It's cold to the touch, always even on the hottest of days. The touch brings you back to reality. To a world and people who were just like you. Ordinary.

Yet, in the midst of normal life you spot something peculiar.

A blue wisp stands out in the darkness. The little flames flicker as it hovers in the air. Its tips swayed as people passed by it.

You look around, trying to see if anyone else notices this abnormality. Those who passed through it were unaffected by the floating ball of fire. You rub your eyes, thinking you're seeing things. But as your vision returns, the wisp remains.

Curious, you move forward. You slip through the people blocking your path and as soon as you're within arms reach, the wisp bounces before racing off. It flashes in and out of existence, beckoning you with its playful call.

You don't know what drives you to follow this mysterious flame, but you do. You ignore the people, their cries and demands for an apology for pushing past them. You don't care about the weight of your bag slung around your shoulder slowing you down or the fatigue from being up all day. They're a burden on your legs, making each step heavier than it should be. But you have to follow it. You can't lose this.

You can't lose him. Not again.

That's why you're chasing it, you think. The flickering blue is so familiar that you can't abandon it. So, you follow it. Far enough that cement turns to grass, buildings turn into trees, and the loud industrial nightlife turns into the silent whispers of a forest. It leads you further and further away from the world you're accustomed to.

Has a forest like this been near your home all along? You couldn't recall although you never ventured out like this. You weren't even sure you could make it back to the city at this point.

You're breathless, tired. The wisp's pace slows so that you can keep up. Despite the pain in your legs, you never stop, afraid that if you did you'd lose sight of the wisp and everything would return to normal.

When the wisp comes to a stop, so do you. It allows you to stand close before zipping past a push and leading you to a small pond.

The waters reflect the sky above so clearly that you could mistake it for a mirror. So pure and reflective. Yet, something isn't right. While the wisp and your image appear on the water, the sky is different. Yours is cloudy, dark, while this one appears clear and bright. You could see the stars and moon perfectly.

The little wisp begins to dance close to the water but never quite touches it. You feel like it's trying to tempt you to do the same. To lure you in and touch the water. Before you can find your voice, the wisp takes a hearty 'jump' into the air and lands into the water.

You gasp and reach out to stop it, feet nearing the edge but stopping a few inches short. You fear the flame has been extinguished upon meeting its natural enemy. There was no smoke to indicate it had gone out. Instead the ripples were smooth, gentle with no splashing, no sign that it was touched to begin with.

What was this? Magic? The thought gets your heart racing. A ray of hope shines in your eyes. For the first time in a long while, you feel excited. Happy.

But you know better than to get your hopes up. You were in a magicless world. Your home. It's a miracle that little wisp caught your eyes. And now, it is gone.

"This has to be a dream or else I'm going insane," you mumble. Your breath is shaky, tired. Tears prick at your eyes.

How could you be so foolish to think you could get a second chance? That you could see them- him- again?

Your mind tells you to leave, to go home and rest. You need to sleep. You're hallucinating, obviously. But you don't move an inch. That bit of hope swells in your chest. Unbelievable things happened to you once before, so why can't it happen again?

And then, it happens.

You hear someone call out your name.

Your eyes widen. The sound came from the water. A voice muffled yet you could hear it loud and clear. You stare down at your reflection, looking for something- someone.

A glimpse of another person reflects in the water and that's all the push you needed.

You take a jump, throwing caution to the wind. You brace yourself for a splash despite seeing the earlier performance. When your body comes in contact with the water, you don't feel anything. Darkness envelops your body, your soul. You feel lost until something takes a hold of your hand. Even though you don't know who it is, you put your trust in them. Besides, this isn't the first time you've taken a stranger's hand.

With a tug, you're pulled out of that floating sensation and collide with something. Your body meets with another and soon you're falling again, this time to the ground. Whoever it was who took your hand breaks your fall.

Instinctively, you clutch onto the person underneath you as you expected more. But when nothing else happens, you release your hold on them. Slowly, your eyes open as you push yourself off the person below. You stop once you see who it is.

"Idia...?"

His name comes out in a whisper. The poor soul was lying on his back, eyes shut with a slightly pained expression. The flames of his hair spread out underneath him. Your hands were enveloped by the flames and you couldn't help running a hand through them, just as you used to do.

You take in a breath and feel a lump in your throat.

"Is this real...?"

You extend a hand to caress his cheek. His skin is cold to the touch, but you can still feel his warmth. That strange cold yet warm feeling he always gave off. Your touch makes him stir with a groan. Golden eyes flutter open and squint at your figure. You don't give him a chance to process anything that happened within the last couple of minutes. Your hands are already flying around his neck and you nearly KO him once again.

"Idia, I love you."

It's not the first thing you wanted to say to him when given the chance to reunite. Honestly, an apology was what you wanted to start with. To him, to everyone. But this needed to be said. Unspoken words that needed to be heard. You missed your chance once and you didn't want to miss it again.

"I missed you so much."

Idia stutters something incomprehensible. You're certain that you've broken him considering the blue surrounding your vision begins to turn into a pink frenzy. Perhaps you've done a little too much to him. It's nice to know that he hadn't changed though.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to overwhelm you, I just..." You pull back, releasing your hold on the timid man. He keeps his gaze on you, surprisingly, unlike before. His gaze may flicker but he holds your gaze longer than he ever had before. "I never thought I'd see you again."

Idia gulps and opens his mouth. No words come out and he shuts it promptly. His mind is whirling with far too many thoughts. Your sudden affection and the realization that you were back had caused him to malfunction. He was supposed to be cool and embrace you, yet the most he could handle is taking your hand in his. Fingers slide to your wrist to feel your pulse. You're here. You're really here.

"Y-You know I had something p-planned to say, but...that c-confession?!" He raises his free hand to conceal his blushing face. Uttering that last word only made that pink hue deepen to a darker shade. "It's supereffective..."

"I had to say it," you respond quietly. "In case I couldn't get a chance again. You have to know."

Your own cheeks match the color of his now. The realization that you blurted out such important words finally hit and it leaves you feeling embarrassed. You don't shy away from him though, you remain confident in what you said. But the silence between you makes your confidence waver.

"Y-You kept it...?"

You follow where his eyes flick to and look down. You find his gift dangling between you.

"I told you I would. You gave it to me."

You swear that his hair is getting hotter and about to imitate real fire at this point. With his hair warming your hands a little too much, you take this chance to change your position. You still had him pinned down. So, you get to your feet and help him. Idia never lets go of your hand as you do. He sways a bit, but you help steady him.

"Why'd you have to leave like that?" He asks, voice barely above a whisper. "Disappearing like you're from some mystery genre. I was...Ortho, he..." He gulps. "W-We were worried about you."

You feel as if you've been stabbed through the heart. It's what you dreaded.

"If I had to say goodbye to all of you, I don't know if I would have been able to leave."

"Protag problems," he spits. "It's not fair though. You can't just come into my life like that and then disappear!" His voice raises, the ends of his hair turning red as it flares upward. His stare on you hardened, his own tears pricking at his eyes. "You were supposed to be different! You promised to never leave! I finally found someone to call a friend and that person just leaves! So, why did you leave me all alone?!"

He has every right to be angry with you. You should have said something, at least to him of all people.

"I'm sorry," you say, weakly. You squeeze his hand. "I'm sorry, Idia. I didn't know what to do. I had to go home, but I wanted to stay. I had my life back there, but this one too. I...I...I didn't know what to do." You take in a breath, doing your best not to let tears fall. "What would you have done?"

The look on your face causes his red to fade back to blue. He forgets just how painful of a decision it must have been. While he could easily make the decision in a game to progress the story, he never put himself in the hero's shoes. When given a choice to choose between two different lives, what do you choose? He's only ever had one choice forced upon him.

"I dunno...that kinda option wouldn't be presented to me, not in a million years. You still have that choice..."

You follow his gaze as it lingers elsewhere. You hadn't taken in the scenery around you with your gaze focused on him. But now, you could. You find yourself in a familiar setting. One lined with geometrical silver designs, walls lined with holograms projecting things you could barely understand. There were tables cluttered with spare parts and tools. The floor was a mess, reminding you of how Idia's room was. Messy and disheveled as he focused on his project.

And that project is what caught your attention.

A hexagon shaped portal that was taller than either of you. One crafted from metal with cables practically bleeding out of it. To the side was a small keyboard and screen to input information. A small ramp led to the center that showed a faint reflection of the forest you had been in not too long ago. The image was fading into a transparent blue color. You think, if you wanted to leave then now would be the time.

But you don't move, you don't even try.

"No," you say, ignoring your world and turning to him. "I've made my choice already." You gulp. "I want to stay here. With you. If you'll let me?"

"O-Of course!" He squeaks out. "You don't need my permission for something like that..." His feelings are going haywire. He was elated over your decision yet terrified. Were you really going to stay for him? Give up everything again to stay here? In a world you didn't belong in? Scratch that last question. You did belong here.

"How'd you do it?" You ask, hoping to distract him from shutting down and being genuinely curious. "Crowley said I couldn't come back."

"Did you seriously believe what he said?" He sighs. "Okay, maybe I get why. He's so flaky and can barely come up with a six number password for his phone. A-Anyway, I did get some...help." He coughs that last part, but you definitely heard it. Idia points to your gift.

"That was the key. It's something I made so I have access to it at all times. Ortho can pick up on its location, but he brought up the fact that he might not always be able to...so I got someone with stronger magic to be able to keep in touch. Sort of. If I could amplify the signal or put it on a wavelength he could sense then...even if the outcome of you disappearing did come true. I could find you."

You nod along with his words. You think you can grasp what he's saying.

"Kind of like a magical GPS?"

"Yes! And it worked!" He said rather proudly. Although he deflates shortly after. "Thats n-not weird is it? I-I can't go after you, but at least I could always send Ortho if you were in trouble. He's faster and better equipped for PvPs IRL."

"Thanks for always looking after me."

"Y-Yeah...! Np! I...r-really missed you..." His voice goes quiet. His body trembles and uses you for support. Confusion laces your face, but you keep still and quiet. Always patient with him. "A-And it's a little late of a response, but...i-if I don't respond my chances w-will definitely go down and lead to a bad e-ending. S-So...I l-l-like...l-love...you too."

A smile naturally forms from your lips. It's bright and blinding as your heart leaps against your chest. The confession hadn't been forgotten, but you hardly expected a reply from him. Now, you pull him into a proper embrace. You nestle yourself against his body, head resting against his chest. He flinches, going tense before relaxing. Shaky hands hesitate to wrap around you, but he manages. His hold is weak, scared of giving the wrong amount of contact. You don't mind it though.

"I promise I won't leave again."

You inhale. Exhale. Then you recall the world around you. This magic filled, bright world that you had been cast into against your will. It's dangerous and foreign. It's filled with so many wondrous things, things beyond your wildest imagination. Here, you're different. While you're another face in the crowd, you're acknowledged. Good or bad, you meant something here.

You had friends with real, lifelong bonds. Despite your differences you were considered part of their group. You may not have grown up together, but you did grow together as people. You would never be alone, never be an outcast as you once thought you were. People here were odd, rude, villainous at times, yet human. And you loved them despite their flaws.

One a little more than the others. One you were willing to give up your world for. One you would stay by his side until the end of time.

This is your home now. It always has and always will be.

[just-jordie-things]

no surprises - okkotsu yuuta

word count: 4.5k warnings: themes of depression, light swearing summary: (y/n) learns she doesn’t see the world the way Yuuta does.  She also learns she doesn’t see herself the way he does. - based loosely around no surprises by radiohead more info: aged up characters! ___

[ a heart that’s full up like a landfill / a job that slowly kills you / bruises that won’t heal ] ___

The world of Jujutsu was fairly small and only shrinking.  Sometimes it was cool to be a part of a unique society.  Most of the time, it was lonely.

(y/n’s) classmates were nice enough, but she had yet to make a real connection with any of them.

Maki was great to train with, and she could be fun.  But she was so intimidating that when they were alone together, (y/n) tended to keep her head down and mouth shut.  You couldn’t say anything wrong if you didn’t speak a word, right?

Then there was Panda, who was very kind, but he could be rambunctious, and a bit of a prankster.  Besides, he tended to partner off with Toge anyways, so there wasn’t a point in trying to reach out more.

And Toge only spoke in rice ball ingredients.  It was a little hard to form a friendship around that.

(y/n) tried not to let herself be too affected by all this.  It wasn’t fair to be upset that they’d all formed a bond before she had come to Jujutsu Tech.

Eventually, she grew to accept that she wouldn’t be joining the strong familial bond they all shared with each other.  She thought this to be a good thing- at least that way if something were to happen to her, no one would lose someone they cared about.  And in this field of work, risking your life was always an asterisk on the mission form.

But risking your life to save others? That had to be one of the most selfless jobs there were.  So if the price of exorcizing curses was a little loneliness, then so be it.  She’d still choose this life if she had another chance.

At least, that’s what she’d tell herself when she’d stare at the sky late at night, recalling the days before she’d discovered her cursed energy.

[ you look so tired, unhappy ]

“You don’t really think that, do you?” Yuuta asks her one night.

(y/n) glances over to the boy next to her, his eyes a dark blue that rivals the night sky above them.  She can’t quite place the look on his face… despair?

“You don’t ever wonder?” She mumbles, her eyes returning to the constellations.  “What if… what if I wasn’t born like this?”

Yuuta swallows.  Sure, all the time, he thinks, but something tells him that’s not what he should be telling her now.

“I suppose,” He answers her quietly.  “But there’s a lot of stuff I’d hate to miss out on”

(y/n) laughs, which wasn’t the reaction he was expecting at all.  His brows furrow in her direction while she shakes her head.

“What?” He asks.

“You,” She answers, still staring at the sky.  “In what world is this life best case scenario?”

“You hate it that much?”

“Hate doesn’t begin to convey what I feel for this life,” She shakes her head.  “But it would be selfish of me to say that, wouldn’t it?” Finally she looks at him again, letting him process the question before continuing.  “Knowing what I know now, it would be selfish to walk away- for what, something better? Something that brings me happiness? Could I really choose something like happiness over protecting people?”

Yuuta is silent for a moment, leaving her to stare at him and try to pick apart each and every emotion behind his eyes.  She assumes he must feel the same.  If given the chance to go back and change the course of fate, much more than trauma could be restored.  A real, normal, life could have been had.  She wonders if that’s what he’s thinking- what life he could have had for himself had he not been dragged into this one.

She’s wrong.

While he sits beside her on the creaky old wood planks that made up the deck outside of the dormitories, Yuuta can only think about the present, the only life he’s ever known, and the only life he’ll ever have.  Her words hurt him, not because he’s offended, but because… it makes him sad for her.

He’s known (y/n) for quite some time now.  When they first met last year, she was very reserved, curiously enough though, he found she wasn’t shy, she just tended to keep to herself.  After a year of spending whatever free time he had, he tried to understand her better.

(y/n) tended to give him scraps- only last week he learned that her favorite color was blue.  “Like at midnight.  Or the ocean” She’d said.  He didn’t mind that it was taking more time to get to know her than the others, in fact, he found that he enjoyed her quiet presence.

He’d grown very fond of her, so much in fact that when he’d come back from long days or weeks away, it was usually her he gravitated towards to catch up with first.  He’d spend the following day joking around with Toge, and training with Maki, and getting thrown around by Panda, but that first night belonged to (y/n).

And it was typical to find them sitting on this deck, staring at the stars.

With these thoughts in mind, Yuuta takes in a breath before asking her the question he’d been biting back.

“You don’t think you can find happiness… here?”

Slowly, her eyes fall from the stars, but she can’t bear to look at him, so instead she keeps her vision blankly ahead.

Why must he be this way? She curses internally.  Why does he have to… care? Why can’t he leave me alone like the others? He insists on being involved… why?

She can’t look at him, because she knows if she does, she might just grow a little closer to him, and she couldn’t accept that.  He was too good.  And it was safer to keep a distance, to never really be attached.

When you’re attached to things, you grow weak.  And this wasn’t a field where she could allow even a shred of weakness.

Her teeth gnaw on her bottom lip.

“You ask me that as if my happiness holds any importance,” She says.  “I don’t think it’s fair to weigh that against human lives”

“You don’t have to pit the two against each other,” Yuuta declares.  “Both can be equally important to you.  They’re important to me”

Her head snaps before she can remind herself why she wasn’t looking at him, and she’s reminded as soon as their eyes meet.

He’s smiling at her.  He has the warmest, most comforting expression on his face, and she doesn’t understand why, but she knows that’s simply who Yuuta is.  Warm, and comforting.

“Why?” She whispers, afraid if she’ll ask any louder, the shadows will hear, and they’ll mock her for her vulnerability.

“Because you’re my friend,” Yuuta shrugs like the answer is simple.  “And I care about you,”

She blinks at him, her eyes wide with bewilderment.

After all this time of forcibly keeping him at arm’s length, he still considered her a companion?

The hot sting behind her eyes let her know that her heart was betraying her mind, but no matter how strongly she willed herself to bottle it up and force it away, the feeling remained.

“The others care about you too, you know,” Yuuta continues.  “Trust me, I’ve learned they have weird ways of showing it, but they do,”

(y/n) swallows the lump in her throat.

“Even when you try to push people away, the ones that matter have a way of sticking around,” There’s a small smile on his face as he speaks, ducking his head as a rosy tint colors his cheeks.  “But that’s a good thing, right? Without friends you love and who love you, what’s the point?”

“Being strong,” Her voice is raspy, but she has yet to let a single tear fall.  “Holding your own.  Looking out for yourself.  Y-you have to.  It’s the only way”

Slowly, and maybe for the first time ever, Yuuta was beginning to understand her.

He turns his body to be facing hers, letting her know that she had his complete and undivided attention.

“You wanna know something funny?” He asks, and she doesn’t respond, but he speaks anyway.  “You’re reminding me of Gojo-Sensei,”

Her nose crinkles in mild-disgust and confusion, and Yuta chuckles.

“When he first found me, he told me this weird thing that made no sense.  But I was so broken up about Rika, and so scared all the time of what was coming next.  I did everything I could to keep people away from me… I just never wanted to hurt anyone- well, ah, you knew that I guess, huh?”

Bashfully, he rubs the back of his neck.

“Well, he told me that love was the most twisted curse of all,” He said.

(y/n) blinked, a bit shocked that her goofy, sweets-loving sensei could say something so dark… and profound.

“And at first I guess I thought I understood what he meant.  It means it holds you back, right? It makes you weak, or lost.  And that’s all I was feeling at the time…”

He trails off for a moment, lost in his memories.  Surprisingly, he smiles at her.

“And then I met you guys… and I understand what he meant now”

(y/n) blinks, waiting for him to continue.  But he just sits there and smiles at her, and she realizes he’s not going to tell her.

“Well?” She pressed.  “What’d he mean, then?”

Yuuta laughs, before placing his hands on the ground and hoisting himself up.

“It wouldn’t be fair to just tell you, dummy,” He teases, reaching his hand down to her.  “You gotta figure it out yourself”

She stares at him for a moment, still calculating what he was getting at, what was the point of all this? And then her eyes fall to his outstretched and helpful hand.

Her heart drops to her stomach, and she fears it’ll launch back up to her throat and be regurgitated.

Cautiously, she raises her hand, and sets it in his.

Yuuta beams as he helps her to stand, firmly clutching her palm in his to keep her steady.

“So- so what,” (y/n) shakes her head, her brows drawn together.  She pulls her hand out of his hold almost instantly, wrapping her arms around herself defensively.  “All that nonsense about love and letting people in, I just have to accept that?”

Her voice cracks and she lets out a humorless laugh.

“Because it’s the most ridiculous, selfish thing I’ve ever heard,”

Yuuta’s face falls, a frown pulling on his lips while she spews out her interpretation of Gojo’s words, and it wasn’t what he’d intended at all.

“See, you can love people all you want.  You can care about them, and- and look out for them, and get to know them.  But at the end of the day, when you die and they’re left loving what’s left of you, that’s on you,”

She does her best to ignore her own sniffling, and the way her voice breaks and rasps as her throat constricts, but it’s all too noticeable.  Yuuta watches as she completely crumbles in front of him.

“Love makes you weak,” She mutters, aggressively wiping at her eyes before any tears could fall.  “It makes you overthink, it trips you up when you need to be on your highest alert.  Gojo-sensei was right about one thing.  Love is a curse.  It’s no gift at all.  It’s a damnation to weakness.  Love is a waste of energy, and- and it’s a waste for you to pretend like you care when you barely even know me!”

Yuuta shakes his head, stepping towards her with his hands out.

“No, no (y/n) that’s not true-”

“It is,” She seethes, stepping back before he could touch her.  “Aren’t you bothered? Don’t you despise me?” The question is exaggerated, and she’s just waiting for him to admit it.

“Of course not!”

“Well then why?” She gasps out.  “Why do you keep coming back to me- seeking me out and trying to get to know me? Can’t you tell I don’t want you to?”

“We’re friends, (y/n), we’re partners.  I care about you whether you want me to or not-”

“That’s unfair-!”

“That’s love!” Yuuta cuts her off this time before she could argue with him any longer.  “Like it or not you don’t get to choose who loves you! Okay!? It just happens!”

Shockingly enough, she doesn’t have a response for that, so Yuuta seizes the silence himself.

“You’re wrong,” He tells her, stepping closer again.  “You can push people away all you want- it won’t work.  Not with me.  I won’t let you,”

A tear escapes one of her eyes, making a break down her cheek, before sliding along her jaw.

“Be angry with me if you have to, I don’t care.  You mean more to me than your anger could get in the way of”

“I don’t understand,”

She sounds defeated, her voice quiet and still breaking as she attempts to fight her feelings.

“I don’t understand,” She repeats.  “Why? Why go through the trouble?”

Yuuta chuckles, and takes a bolder step forward, reaching out to brush his knuckles over her jaw, collecting the stray tear.

“You’re wrong again, (y/n/n),” He says fondly.  “It’s no trouble at all to love you,”

A knot forms between her eyebrows as her eyes flicker between his, desperate to read the thoughts behind them.

If only there was a way he could convince her that he was telling her exactly what he was thinking.

“It sucks sometimes,” He admits with a chuckle.  “When I’m gone and I miss you, or when you want to be a brooding jerk.  But it doesn’t make me love you any less,”

He really loves me? She wonders.  Or is he just saying this?

“Actually, I think that stuff just makes me love you more”

Oh.

Now her tears are falling down her cheeks in steady streams.  She shakes her head at him, the action small, almost pathetic, she thinks.

“Can’t you see I don’t want that?” She all but whimpers out.  “I can’t- I just can’t have that”

“You don’t get to choose that for me” Yuuta shrugs a shoulder, giving her a small smile.  He does his best to hide the way she’s shattering his heart.

“It’s not fair, it’s not fair to me,” She continues, lips trembling as she tries to form the right words.  “If- if something happens and I’m dying I can’t-”

She hiccups and Yuuta finds himself shushing her, cooing softly as his hands cup over her cheeks so sweetly, brushing away her tears as they fall.

“You think too much about everything, yaknow?” He hums to her.

“I can’t carry that weight,” She mumbles.  “I can’t- I can’t die knowing I’m leaving people to grieve for me”

She sees him smile and she just wants to fall to her knees and break down.  She doesn’t understand him, not in the slightest.  How could he stand there and comfort her while she’s trying to reject him?

“Like I said,” Yuuta sighs while he carefully dries her cheeks.  “You don’t get to choose that for me”

“Yuuta…”

“You don’t get to choose that for anyone,” He corrects himself.  “That’s what isn’t fair.  People will love you whether you want them to or not.  You will love people whether you want to or not.  It’s not a choice at all”

She stares at him for a moment, ignoring that voice in the back of her mind telling her to push his hands away and retreat to her dorm.  Instead, all she could think about was a short conversation they’d had a week or so ago.

There’s a shift in her demeanor, or so Yuuta thinks.  He thinks that when he looks into her eyes, there’s something there that wasn’t there before.  A glint, a shimmer of hope.  He gazes at her (y/e/c) fondly, hoping whatever it was he was seeing would reveal itself.

“Last week you told me your favorite color was green, like the leaves in summer,”

Her words were murmured, anxiously so, but she willed herself to keep talking.

“And I told you my favorite color was blue,” Her cheeks began to feel warm.

Was this bashfulness?

“I like… I like the blue of your eyes,” She was nearly choking on her words, but this was much different from before.  “That’s my favorite color,”

Yuuta’s blushing too, so much so that he wants to tug at his color to relieve the heat creeping up his neck.

“On the nights that you’re gone, I sit out here and… and hope you’re okay,” (y/n) confesses.  “I hope that we’re looking at the same stars and that when I ask them to look out for you… they do.  I look at the sky and it’s just so beautiful I can’t stop myself from being reminded of you… even when I don’t want to.  I can’t help it… it’s the damn blue…”

Her tears have stopped falling, yet still somehow she looks distressed.

Still, it’s different than before.

“Is that love?” She mumbles, and Yuuta isn’t sure if she’s asking him or talking to herself, but he answers anyway.

He drops his hands from her face so that he can wrap them snugly around her waist, drawing her close to him so that he could hug her.

At first, she just lets him.  She stands there frozen, trapped by the action, trapped by her thoughts.

This must be, she thinks.  It must be.  Because what other feeling could have her so… lost in another person.

A shiver goes down her spine, and at the same time she feels so warm it’s almost uncomfortable.

All at once, she falls against him, throwing her arms around his neck, embracing him as tightly as she possibly could.  She buries her nose into his shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut tight before any other tears could fall.

He returns her vigor right away, pressing her close to his chest.

(y/n) melts.

“I’m sorry,” She mumbles into his jacket.  “I’m sorry for everything-”

“Don’t apologize,” Yuuta cuts her off, a hand cupping the back of her head, before carefully tangling his fingers in her hair.  “There’s no need”

Yuuta hears a quiet mumble against his shoulder.

“You’re so good and I don’t understand it sometimes,”

He chuckles, leaning back and pulling her away from him just enough that he can look down at her.

She’s smiling now, but even still, Yuuta can see there’s a sadness behind it.

“I do… care about you, you know?” Her voice was quiet, eyes darting between his, hoping to find a flicker of trust.

She found much more than a flicker.

She could have sworn that his irises held more color than she’s ever seen before.  The perfect swirl of love, and blue.

“I know,” He smiles and it’s warm, and it makes her feel every pleasant emotion.  “But it’s nice to hear it” He teases.

She cracks a little, her despair melting away.  She couldn’t tell what did it exactly, the sweet words or bright smile, maybe his thumb brushing over her cheekbone being the most soothing thing she’s ever felt- or maybe it was all of it.  

But now with her brain a mush and her life’s philosophy being burned to ashes, she was considering that maybe… maybe it was just him.  Maybe this was just the Yuuta Effect.  Maybe it was his charm that seemed to have it’s own gravitational pull.  Maybe it was his dopey smile and nervous way he talks paired with that sweet look in his eyes.  Maybe it was the fact that it was so fiercely loyal that he wouldn’t leave your side even when you were begging him to.

Am I an idiot?

“Yuuta,”

His name came out in one small breath, and he’s reminded just why he was so infatuated with her.

He was always hanging onto her every word, eager to hear what the next one would be.

“I don’t… I didn’t realize…”

She cuts herself off, wincing and shaking her head from the embarrassment of not even being able to form a sentence.

Rolling her eyes, she looks back up at him, staring at him seriously.

“I never realized you felt that way,” She finally said.  “And I’m sorry I… I never told you… how I felt”

He raised a brow, playfully.

“You didn’t realize, huh?” He asks.

She shook her head.

“I don’t believe you”

“What?” (y/n) scoffed.  “What do you mean you don’t believe me?”

“I don’t believe you,” He chuckles as he repeats himself.  “It was too obvious.  You’re the secretive one”

“Obvious?” She asks.

“Uh, yeah, it was pretty obvious,” He’s still laughing, pretty nervously, but it’s cute.  “You’ve caught me staring, I know you have”

“So? You zone out a lot” (y/n) shrugs her shoulders.

“Okay, well I also try really hard to get close to you”

“How was I supposed to know that you weren’t just trying to be my friend?” She fired back.  “These aren’t exactly solid arguments”

“How? You’re seriously trying to tell me that you haven’t noticed?”

She tries to stifle a laugh at how worked up he’s getting over this, but she fails and giggles spew out uncontrollably.

“Okay then, since you just want to laugh it up at my feelings, how is it you feel anyways?”

Her giggles halted immediately, eyes wide and darting up to his.

“Well?” He asks, impatiently.

“Well.. I’m… fond of you”

“You’re fond of me?” He asks in a posh accent.  “What are you eighty?”

“Shut up” (y/n) mutters while he continues to laugh and tease her.

“Are you hoping to win my favor? Perhaps court me?”

“You’re not making this any easier you know,” (y/n) says, doing her best to scowl at him.  But it’s difficult to not smile at him when he’s smiling like that.  “I could always just walk away.  Go to bed and sleep for a loooong time and wake up and pretend this never happened-”

“So you’re in love with me?”

He has such a way of making her freeze, that she thinks he’s doing it just for his own amusement.

“Maybe” She mumbles.

Yuuta grins.  He grins so wide that all of his teeth are on display, and his skin crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

“I can work with maybe”

(y/n) scoffs, her lips turning upwards against her will as she drops her head to stare at the ground.

“Come on,” Yuuta hums, heading back towards the dorms.  “I’ll even walk you back to your room.  You know, to prove what a gentleman I am”

(y/n) giggles, and nods her head softly before following next to him.

They walk in silence, side by side, back inside.  It’s comfortable.

He walks her to her dorm, they say goodnight, and maybe they linger in the doorway a few moments longer than necessary, maybe (y/n) closes her door and leans against it for a few minutes while she hopes that her heart would calm down in her chest.

As she lays in bed that night and stares at her ceiling, she realizes that she had gotten it all wrong.  Perhaps her whole life, but… definitely this last chapter.  She had blinded herself for so long that she hadn’t even been able to see Yuuta was in love with her.

And she was absolutely in love with him.

[ no alarms / and no surprises, please ] ___

3 months later ___

“He’s late” Maki scoffed.

“It’s been two minutes, I’m sure he’ll be here soon” Panda comforted.

“Tch,” Maki rolled her eyes, turning to Toge to shake her head.  “That’s still late” She muttered.

“Salmon” Toge replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

The cursed-speech user turns to (y/n) next to him, raising his brows in a way that she understood exactly what he meant.  Maki.

(y/n) gives him a small smile in acknowledgment.  She can’t see him smile back, but the crinkles at the corners of his eyes told her all she needed to know.

And then the car pulled up, and her timid smile turned into a face-splitting grin.

Ijichi gets out first, scrambling to the back of the car to open up the trunk.  (y/n) ignores the luggage he pulls out as the passenger door opens.

Yuuta steps out, and he looks tired, disheveled.  Understandably so, it was a long flight from Paris to Tokyo, followed by a long drive from the airport to Jujutsu Tech.  It was nearly sixteen hours of traveling when the day was done.

And yet, as he’s stretching his back as much as he can, his eyes land on her, and he forgets all about his achy muscles.  He jogs off to his friends, ignoring Ijichi who was struggling to carry two duffel bags, a backpack, a sheathed katana and a suitcase.

“You waited up for me?” He asks excitedly, quickly hugging his friends.  Panda, Maki, Toge.

“Of course” Panda said warmly.

“Toge made me” Maki snarked, but it was impossible to miss the warm smile on her face.

“Salmon” Toge grins as he gives his best friend a welcome hug.  

Yuuta’s grinning too, patting Toge’s back affectionately before pulling away.  He turns to the last of the bunch, still grinning like a madman.

“Your turn” He says, tugging on (y/n’s) arm and pulling her into a hug before she could refuse.

She wouldn’t, of course, and he can tell by the way she throws his arms around his neck and reciprocates the embrace happily.  He squeezes a little tighter.

“Missed you, you know” She mumbles into his ear so the others can’t hear.

(The others are playing ‘Tackle Panda’, but she doesn’t notice of course)

“Had a feeling,” Yuuta hums.  “You did write a lot”

(y/n) scoffs, pulling away so she can punch him in the arm.

“Don’t make me regret it” She teases back.  

“Too late now, I’ve already saved ‘em all,” Yuuta replies, his hands grasping onto her wrists before she could attack him anymore.

She rolls her eyes, but when he tugs her closer, she steps in anyways, leaning up to meet his lips in the middle, kissing him softly.

His hands drop hers, so that he can cup her face and kiss her again, properly, deeply.  Luckily their friends are still too busy wrestling on the ground, so they had a few extra moments of privacy.

When they part, he leans his forehead against hers.  His hair had gotten longer in the month and a half he’d been away, it hangs in both of their faces rather annoyingly but neither bother to move it.  She can see his sapphire eyes just fine.

“I missed you too,” He tells her softly, before bumping his nose against hers.  “I’m glad to be home”

“I’m glad you’re home,” She hums back.  “I love you”

His beam only brightens, and he pecks her lips in a quick kiss before their friends could see.

“I love you too” ___

xoxo ~ jordie