#i am DESPERATE to see more chapters come out and see how the themes of the story change

[the-acid-pear]

every time i start to think of the unhealthy and fucked up relationships darkners and lightners have i get a little bit sicker

[ghostchems]

infernal - terzo x f!reader - part seven

and now... a flashback chapter

art by the always amazing @piaart

author’s note: i feel like shit but it helped me finish this up. plenty of terzo pain here meanwhile reader is home, blissfully unaware. i also have no idea if my writing is good at this point but here ya go! part one/two/three/four/five/six. ao3 link.

If you could see the wreck I am these days, you’d have new reasons to stay away. Just hold my hand for a little while —

Misery never goes out of style.

Terzo traces a delicate finger along one of the bags under his eyes, no longer concealed by the dark eye paint he once wore. His brows furrow at the sight of himself in the mirror. The wrinkles have deepened since he left the stage. His hair, now less lustrous, betrays gray strands emerging from his roots and sideburns. All those years spent cultivating his image, trying to become the perfect imperfection that Lucifer himself boasted—only to unravel after one fateful show. He grits his teeth, his mismatched eyes sharpening in his reflection.

With all the glitz stripped away, he loathes how much he now resembles his father…

Terzo forces the thought out of his head. His days are spent analyzing his time as Papa and what went wrong. He wouldn’t do anything differently but it still stung, especially after the new heights and exposure he had achieved for the Ministry. Somehow, it was not enough. His father was never proud of him, a theme that stretched throughout his entire life. Terzo was only ever the Third to him, the third son that would serve his purpose and then be pushed aside for whoever was next. While this had been the typical progression, Terzo was the fool who thought he would be different — even after being warned by Secondo.

Secondo.

“Cazzo.”

He’s late for Uno Night.

The once-revered Emeritus brothers now find themselves relegated to a desolate corner of the abbey with their only entertainment being a silly card game. Their influence wanes with each passing day. Terzo can't help but sneer at the irony of their situation - former leaders now barely more than forgotten relics, with only each other’s company. There was a time when the Emeritus brothers were revered as gods among men. Crowds would surge forward at their concerts, desperate to touch the hem of their robes or catch a glimpse of their painted faces. Devotees would line up for hours, sometimes days, just for the chance to receive a blessing or a fleeting moment of attention. Their every word was treated as gospel, their gestures analyzed and imitated by legions of faithful followers.

In the halls of the Ministry, their presence commanded instant respect and adoration. Ghouls and Siblings of Sin alike would bow their heads in reverence as they passed. Their chambers were filled with lavish gifts from admirers - exotic incense, priceless artifacts, and fervent love letters. The very air seemed to crackle with power and dark allure whenever they entered a room. Now, that electric atmosphere has faded to a dull static. The gifts have stopped coming, the adoring crowds have moved on to newer, shinier idols. The once-mighty Emeritus brothers find themselves grasping at the fading light of their former glory, clinging to memories of a time when they were worshipped as the embodiments of their infernal master.

He used to delicately paint his face for each meeting, a ritual of devotion to himself and his roll as Papa. But now, as he stares at his bare face, he feels a bitter resentment towards the being he once revered. The paint feels like a mask of lies, concealing the growing doubts and anger festering within him. Lucifer's promises of power and glory now ring hollow in his ears, leaving only the taste of ash and disappointment. Terzo exhales through his nose and tears himself away from the mirror, satisfied with his appearance but frustrated with the progression of his thoughts. He had grown more disillusioned by the day with the cause he so passionately promoted, the being he worshipped. Lucifer, once his guiding light, now seemed like a cruel puppeteer, manipulating him for some cosmic joke.

Omega did not like these thoughts. In fact, Terzo has begun avoiding him and instead has been seeking the company of his brothers. Perhaps the one silver lining in all of this is that he is closer than he ever has been with his true family, minus daddy dearest, of course. They had grown up together, with Primo practically raising him and Secondo after they had come to the ministry. Back then he was a true zealot - a satanic lunatic whose fervor for the dark arts knew no bounds. It was from him that Terzo learned the intricacies of their infernal faith, absorbing every ritual and incantation with wide-eyed fascination. Yet, somehow, both Terzo and Secondo emerged less fanatical than their older brother.

But still competitors, nonetheless. Secondo and Terzo had been born to different mothers three months apart so it came naturally. The more time spent together now, the more they realize how similar they can be and deep down, Terzo wishes they had not been so combative. It was encouraged, though, fed and grown by the higher ups in the ministry and their father. Maybe they feared they would be too powerful if they were close.

Now all they care about is Uno.

"Fuck!" Terzo exclaims again, his voice tinged with frustration as he runs a hand tiredly over his face. The weight of his thoughts bears down on him, but he knows he can't afford to dwell any longer. With a deep sigh, he forces himself into action, slipping his feet into his shoes - the familiar spats clicking as he gets them on. Just as he reaches for the door handle, a sharp knock echoes through the room. Terzo pauses, his hand hovering in mid-air. Irritation flashes across his face.

"Enter," he calls out, his voice tinged with impatience.

The door creaks open, revealing a young Sibling of Sin. Their face is pale, eyes wide with fear and urgency. Terzo's irritation gives way to curiosity as he takes in their disheveled appearance.

"What is it?" he asks, his tone softening slightly.

The Sibling swallows hard before speaking, their voice trembling. "Papa, I... I have news. It's about Omega."

Terzo's eyebrows furrow. "Omega? What about him?" He nonchalantly goes back to adjusting his outfit, wondering if this is another plot from the ghoul to try and make him listen to “reason”. He certainly has stooped rather low, almost as low as Terzo.

The Sibling takes a deep breath, as if steeling themselves for what they're about to say. "He's been banished, Papa. Omega has been cast out of the Ministry."

The words hit Terzo like a physical blow. He stumbles back a step, his mind reeling. "Banished?" he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. "But... how? Why?" Pain is etched across his face.

The Sibling shakes their head, clearly as confused and shaken as Terzo. "I don't know the details, Papa. It happened so suddenly. They're saying it came from the highest levels of the Ministry."

Terzo's mind races, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. Shock, confusion, and a sudden, unexpected pang of loss all vie for dominance. Despite their recent disagreements, Omega had been a constant in his life for so long. The thought of him being gone, cast out... it's almost inconceivable.

Terzo's composure shatters as the weight of the news crashes over him. His eyes flash with unbridled fury, causing the Sibling to take an involuntary step back. "Get out!" he roars, his voice reverberating off the walls. "Leave me! Now!" The Sibling, wide-eyed with fear, scrambles to obey, nearly tripping over their own feet in their haste to escape. Terzo slams the door with such force that the entire room seems to shake, the sound echoing through the corridors like a thunderclap.

As soon as the barrier between him and the outside world is secure, everything crumbles. A primal roar of anguish and frustration tears from his throat, echoing off the walls of his private chambers. In a whirlwind of unbridled emotion, he lashes out at his surroundings. His fist connects with the ornate mirror adorning his vanity, the impact sending a spider web of cracks across its surface before it shatters completely. Shards of glass rain down, glittering in the dim light like fallen stars.

But Terzo's rage demands more destruction. He overturns his meticulously organized desk, unleashing an avalanche of papers, pens, and trinkets onto the floor. Books, once neatly arranged on shelves, are torn free and flung across the room, their pages fluttering like disoriented birds. His wardrobe—a carefully curated collection of robes and suits that once symbolized his power and prestige—falls victim to his fury next. Garments are ripped from hangers and strewn about haphazardly, silk and velvet mingling with the debris below. Spotting one of his Papal robes, an early prototype, he seizes it and tears, splitting seams and fabric into pieces with savage force.

He could kill them. End the reign of his father and Sister Imperator with a knife to their throats, a hammer to their heads. He’s capable and he’s angry.

But that’s not who Terzo is.

His appetite for destruction is as swift as it is thorough. When the storm of his anger finally subsides, Terzo finds himself standing amidst the wreckage of his once-immaculate quarters. His chest heaves with each ragged breath, his knuckles having bloodied his gloves from his outburst. The room, previously a testament to his refined tastes and exalted position, now lies in utter ruin around him. He closes his eyes, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath as the full weight of what has transpired begins to settle upon him.

The dust settles around him, both literally and figuratively, as his mind wanders to Omega. Their relationship, once the core of his existence within the Ministry, had deteriorated over the past several months, transforming into a strained and tenuous connection. The rift between them had widened, growing into a seemingly unbridgeable gap that threatened to swallow everything they shared whole. Omega, ever faithful of their infernal master, had persistently begged Terzo to embrace what he perceived as a well-deserved retirement—a supposed reward bestowed upon them by Lucifer himself for their years of unwavering service and dedication.

"Papa, you've more than earned this rest," Omega would implore, his eyes blazing with sheer intensity behind his cool mask that Terzo found increasingly difficult to look at. "Our Dark Lord Lucifer, in his infinite wisdom, has granted you this period of rest and reflection. Why do you persist in resisting? Can you not see the honor in this gift he has bestowed upon you?"

But for Terzo, the notion of settling into a life of idle luxury felt suffocating—a gilded cage that threatened to strip away everything he had fought so hard to achieve. The very thought of turning his back on the empire he had painstakingly built, nurtured, and expanded over the years felt like a betrayal of who he is and what defines him. As time wore on, his arguments with Omega grew increasingly heated and frequent, his frustration mounting with each tense exchange, threatening to boil over into hostility.

"You call this rest, Omega?" Terzo would retort, his voice rising with each impassioned word, hands gesticulating wildly to emphasize his point. "This isn't rest—it's nothing short of exile, a banishment from everything I've ever known and loved! How can you, of all people, expect me to sit idly by, content to watch as everything I've dedicated my life to—my very existence—crumbles around me like dust?" The air between them would crackle with tension during these confrontations, an electric charge that made it increasingly difficult for them to occupy the same space without the risk of conflict erupting at any moment.

Now, with the shocking news of Omega's sudden and unexpected banishment reverberating through the chambers of his mind, Terzo finds himself consumed with emotion. Relief, guilt, anger, and a profound sense of loss intertwine in a dizzying dance, each vying for dominance in the turbulent landscape of his mind. Despite their recent differences and the ever-widening divide between them, Omega had been a constant, unwavering presence in Terzo's life for longer than he cared to remember—a touchstone of familiarity. His abrupt absence leaves a gaping void in the fabric of Terzo's existence, a wound so deep and raw that he isn't certain he possesses the means to heal it.

Even with the turmoil raging inside him, Terzo finds himself drawn to the familiar comfort of his brothers' company. With a heavy sigh, he straightens his posture and smooths down his attire, a reflexive gesture from years of public appearances. He may be struggling, but he'll be damned if he lets it show—at least not to them. They have all had their hardships. If anyone knows and understands what he is feeling right now, it is his brothers. Terzo’s steps are heavy, using his feet to clear a path forward amidst everything now on the floor. He reaches the door, hesitating for just a moment. There’s a weight pressing down on him that threatens to crush him, to break him down until there’s nothing left.

He won’t let it.

Terzo opens the door and leaves his room. As he makes his way towards the small room where their Uno nights are held, his mind goes blank, going numb to the intense feelings that are simmering beneath the surface. He trudges down the dimly lit corridor, his footsteps echoing off the ancient stone walls, focusing on that sound to keep him grounded. As he rounds a corner, lost in the maelstrom of his thoughts, a familiar voice catches his attention, causing him to halt abruptly.

Turning, he sees Cardinal Copia emerging from his office, a stack of papers tucked under one arm and an Uno card inexplicably held between two fingers of his free hand. The Cardinal's painted face breaks into a warm smile as he spots Terzo, oblivious to the storm brewing within the former Papa.

"Ah, Papa, on your way to Uno Night, yes?” The cheerful greeting hangs in the air, a stark contrast to the darkness swirling within Terzo.

Terzo's entire body tenses, his jaw clenching so tightly he can hear his teeth grind. The sight of him, so content and oblivious to the turmoil raging through the Ministry, ignites a fire in Terzo's chest—one that he had hoped was extinguished following his outburst in his room. His eyes narrow as he regards Copia with barely contained irritation. "Uno Night," he repeats, his voice low and controlled, though tension radiates from every syllable. "Mmm… yes." He takes a step closer to Copia, his presence suddenly looming and intimidating.

Copia's smile falters slightly, but he presses on, still oblivious and sweet. "It's become quite the tradition with your brothers, hasn't it?" He hesitates for a moment, then reaches into his sleeve and pulls out a blue reverse card. He holds it out to Terzo, a tentative peace offering. "Here, Papa. I always keep this one for luck. Perhaps... perhaps you'd like to have it for tonight's game?"

Terzo's gaze sharpens dangerously as he struggles to maintain his composure. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest, fingers digging into his biceps. The sight of that blue card in Copia's hand—a symbol of the carefree life he now leads—causes the fire to spread inside him, consuming him yet again. Terzo’s voice, when he finally speaks, is low and menacing, barely above a whisper.

"Tradition?" His voice is guttural and rough. "You dare speak to me of tradition when everything is crumbling around us? When the very foundations of our world are ripped away from us?" His words are full of anguish and rage, each one striking Copia like a physical blow.

The Cardinal stumbles back, his expression morphing from confusion to outright fear. "P-Papa, I... I don't understand-" he stammers, his voice trembling.

"Of course you don't understand!" Terzo cuts him off, his composure shattering completely. "You're nothing but a pawn, a naive fool dancing to their twisted tune!" He gestures wildly, his movements sharp and erratic. "Do you have any idea what's happening beyond your little bubble of blissful ignorance? Omega is gone! Banished! Cast out like yesterday's trash! And here you stand, grinning like a fool, oblivious to the chaos swirling around you!"

Copia's eyes widen in shock, the full weight of Terzo's words finally sinking in. "Omega? But how- Why-" he begins, but Terzo is far from finished.

Terzo snatches the blue Uno card from Copia's hand, gripping it so hard it begins to crumble in his grip. "And this?" he spits, brandishing it like damning evidence. "You think this changes anything? You think a game can fix what's broken? This card, this... this mockery of what we once were!" His voice rises to a near-scream. "Do you have any idea what this represents? It's not just a game, you fool! It's everything we've lost, everything that's been taken from us!"

With a primal yell that seems to shake the very stones of the corridor, Terzo tears the card to shreds. The pieces flutter between them like confetti, a mockery of celebration in this moment of utter despair. Copia flinches, raising his hands as if to shield himself from the physical manifestation of Terzo's rage.

"P-Papa, please," Copia stammers, his voice barely above a whisper, a plea for understanding, for mercy. "I didn't mean to-"

But Terzo is beyond reason, beyond mercy. His voice drops to a low, dangerous hiss, each word dripping with venom. "Get out of my sight," he commands, his tone brooking no argument. "You don't belong here. You never will. You're nothing but a pale imitation, a cheap replacement for something you could never hope to understand. And take your pathetic games with you!"

As Copia retreats, practically running down the corridor, Terzo stands amidst the scattered remains of the card. His chest heaves with each ragged breath, anger and grief warring within him. In the sudden silence, the weight of his actions begins to settle upon him. He knows, in some distant corner of his mind, that he's overreacted, that Copia isn't truly to blame for the chaos engulfing their world. But in this moment, all he can feel is the crushing weight of loss - of his position, of Omega, of everything he once held dear. And that damned Uno card, now in pieces at his feet, seems to mock him with its cheerful blue color, a stark contrast to the darkness consuming his soul.

If only he could reverse being removed from the Papacy.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Terzo straightens his posture and adjusts his shirt in an attempt to calm himself. He struggles to push down the turmoil within, determined not to let his brothers see his inner struggle. As he approaches the card room, he steels himself, forcing his face into a mask of nonchalance.

Opening the door, he finds his brothers already seated. An almost startling wave of relief washes over him. He allows a scoff to escape his lips at the sight of Primo, face fully painted and wearing a Burberry scarf. Before he can comment, Secondo interjects.

"Already gave him trouble for it, stronzino. If you'd been on time, you could've joined." There's a glint of mischief in Secondo's eyes.

Terzo rolls his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite his best efforts to maintain his aloof facade. He saunters over to the table, pulling up a chair with dramatic flair. "Well, shall we begin? I'm feeling particularly lucky tonight." He shoots a pointed look at Secondo, silently accepting the challenge in his brother's gaze.

He settles into his seat and the feeling of relief continues to spread through him. Here, surrounded by his brothers and the familiar rhythm of an extremely low-stakes card game, he can momentarily push aside his anger and frustration. In this room, he's not the fallen Papa or a disappointment to the Ministry - he's simply Terzo, the youngest of the Emeritus brothers, ready to lose himself in the game and forget, if only for a while, how far he has fallen.

On this particular evening, Sister Imperator and Papa Nihil would make an unexpected appearance, delivering news that would leave the brothers startled and confused.

They would be unable to continue their card game.

Terzo is deep in his desk chair, his body nearly slipped from it onto the floor. His gaze is locked on the the hell phone which has been ringing nonstop since you left for the night. Your taste is still on his tongue, your scent clinging to his robe. He’s afraid to move to disturb the haze he’s settled into, even though you would be back bright and early for work the morning after next. Fingers fall to his temples, rubbing them with each piercing ring of the phone.

He wouldn’t answer. He doesn’t want to face who is on the other line.

Was it Omega? What could he possibly say? He would only complicate matters—as he already has. The hell phone materialized before you, and you listened to the sounds of the abyss. It drove you into Terzo's arms and bed, but... you didn't deserve to experience such terrors or feel so frightened in his home. Or at least, if anyone was going to frighten you it should be him. His fingers drum along the arms of the chair, a deep grumble vibrating from his chest. The goal is to get you to stay, to devote yourself to him and only him. Yet the fear gnaws at him. What if the terrors you've witnessed push you away? The thought of losing you to the very darkness he once revered sends a chill through him. He wants you by his side, but you have to want to be there. Perhaps, he muses bitterly, this is another of Lucifer's cruel jokes—dangling happiness before him, only to threaten it with the very forces he once embraced.

Maybe the imp who fixed your tire that Terzo had shredded was calling. What was that all about? He didn’t have time to mull that incident over earlier while you were here. Is he manifesting things?

The memory of when he had accidentally shocked you resurfaces, Terzo's frown deepens. He recalls the pain on your face when he zapped your wrist. His gaze drifts to his hands, studying them as if they belong to a stranger. These hands that once commanded crowds, that channeled unholy energies with precision and purpose, now feel like unpredictable weapons. He clenches his fists, feeling the familiar tingle of power just beneath his skin. What if he hurts you again?

Another memory flits to the forefront of his mind — when he screamed at you over his relics being displayed causing a lightbulb to shatter. He remembers the fear in your eyes as it happened. It wasn't Lucifer's doing—it was his own power, his own lack of control. The realization hits him like a punch to the gut. Perhaps the true threat to your happiness, to any chance of a future together, isn't some external force or cosmic joke. It's him.

The silver lining is that you had seemed to be… into it. But what if next time, it's worse than a small shock or a broken bulb?

The thought sends a wave of despair crashing over him. Is he doomed to be alone, forever isolated by the very gifts that once made him special? The irony isn't lost on him—he who once reveled in his dark powers, who used them to seduce and enthrall, now fears them as the very thing that might drive you away. Terzo slumps further in his chair. The illusion of his perfection continues to fade but he’s stubborn. Unwilling to change his ways even though he knows he can be cruel and difficult.

He originally expected you to just deal with it.

Terzo rises with a frustrated growl, letting the hell phone continue its incessant ringing. He stalks over to his liquor cabinet, hands trembling slightly as he pours himself a generous measure of whiskey. What have you done to him? How dare you make him want to be better? He decides he must, at the very least, attempt to protect you from whatever hell seemingly has in store for you. This includes tempering his emotions, an obvious factor of his otherworldly abilities. Seriously, how dare you?

Taking a long swig, he savors the burn as it slides down his throat. It's a familiar comfort, one that does little to reduce the budding anxiety he feels. With a heavy sigh, he turns his back on the still-ringing phone and retreats to his bedroom, drink in hand. The door closes behind him, muffling the sound of the hell phone but he can still feel its presence. Terzo takes another sip, hoping to drink himself into unconsciousness.

Only two sleeps until he sees you again.

[lunarcloak]

Blue Lock Chapter 262: Visual Storytelling

Can we talk about the visual imagery this chapter?? Kaneshiro is always cooking but Nomura cooked extra hard this time with his own illustrative storytelling

An almost entirely white panel. Except for the black spot of Kaiser's hunched figure. Almost as if he's the stain on an otherwise perfect game from BM right now. (He's thrown off balance.)

Here, in the first picture, this is Isagi's view of where Kaiser is right now. On top of a puzzle piece— a symbol of Isagi's power, and also a symbol of how off kilter he is. The second picture is part of a larger paneling of how he's being left on the ground as Isagi runs past him in a flurry of puzzle pieces. Almost as if Isagi's kicking the pieces of his perfect puzzle astray, leaving him to rebuild them from scratch. (The theme of this chapter.)

You can tell he's only barely listening. Eyes are always a huge indicator of visual storytelling— i picked this up from looking at BSD panels for too long. Here there's virtually no pupils, smaller, wider eyeballs because he's not listening to Ness's words. They're going in one ear out the other. Because Ness's words are superficial— He's trying to help, he is, but that is desperately NOT what Kaiser needs right now. He needs to figure out how to FIX this. Not to retreat back into the safety of his cocoon so that he can pretend he's still the star on the field.

NOTICE HOW EVERYTHING IN THE SECOND PANEL CAN DIRECTLY BE RELATED TO ISAGI. The offer from Reale— what if Yoichi gets it instead of me? The throne in this team— what if Isagi takes that, too? Am I about to lose everything I worked to get myself? The whole world is watching my worst performance in years. I can't lose here. I can't be defeated here. Not here, of all places, in Blue Lock.

Negative colouring. The previous, prominent memory I have of this is when Rin went to his "flow" state. It's specifically to emphasise the "HUMAN" wording. It's usually used to showcase a very prominent moment, in this case it's Kaiser realising exactly what the core of his worry is right now. It isn't the defeat, not beating Isagi, not anything. At the moment, he's afraid of losing the very humanity he had thought he clawed himself into. To emphasise this, the black and white being reversed are to indicate that time almost freezes, completely changing his perspective and line of thought at that moment.

Less dramatic, still negatively scaled panel. Emphasising how he's really digging into his psyche here and going "Oh, I'm scared. I'm afraid of losing everything I've got for myself." The last time this happened was when his secret money stash was found— he didn't care as much then, because there was nothing to lose that he hadn't already lost. But now? Now, it matters a lot more. Because he's built himself up on an entirely shaky foundation. Note how he's also sliding below here, losing his footing, like he's lost the stable ground he thought he had.

The angle of this panel makes it look like he's climbing upwards, and he's just lost his grip on the wall before him, and is in the process of falling. It's extremely well done.

Plenty people have already pointed this one out— yeah Isagi's just reached a height that's similar to Noa's. The position Kaiser thought he used to have, but now he's not even on the staircase to victory and the treasure he thought he would attain soon is now inching towards his most challenging rival to date.

You will never see him this tired, this defeated, or this melancholic ever again. At this point, his eyes are no longer that wide, shocked stare of not seeing. Now he's comprehended his stance, and he's come back into himself.

Each petal is a memory, a visual representation of the crumbling of the rose he once held. It's gone now, there's no rose in his hand anymore (nothing for him to hold onto anymore). When you have no roses in hand, you grow a new bouquet. When you have nothing, there's nothing to lose if you go reaching for something to hold onto again.

But HERE, the petals can be interpreted in two ways— either he's being reformed from the petals of a new rose (blank petals, not representative ones). OR, you can interpret it as those very petals dissipating from his being, leaving him as this black, blank slate to rebuild himself. Zero— as in no colour, no petals, no gardens to flourish anymore. Only way to move now is up.

Also I'd like to draw your attention to the negative paneling again— inverted this time, the exact opposite of the previously conveyed emotion. Now he's the one in the black, working to redefine himself. He's already redefined the external aspects.

Your Zero— Your Beginning. I LOVE this page, even if it's a repeat. It conveys so much. Kaneshiro and Nomura are such a GOOD TEAM

A black hand clasps around the core memory— the memory of when he truly had only his football. He can't let that petal float away, that's one he wants to keep. That's the idea he wants to hold onto. He crushes the petal into his hand, assimilating it into his new beginning. That's the one he'll hold onto, to recraft the person that is Michael Kaiser.

[hnychn]

I AM HIM, AS HE IS ME

SUMMARY — If there is anything that is universally acknowledged to be wholly true and incontestable, it’s that Gojo Satoru loves his daughter more than anything in the world. But does she know that?

AUTHOR’S NOTE — i got into a huge argument with my father a while back and it’s been weighing on my conscience. this series is largely based on our relationship and it’s been so therapeutic to write everything out and indirectly give myself an ending i want. the series isn’t complete, if anything, it’s no where near done. i want to make sure everything is perfect before i even think about posting the first chapter. its been so long since i’ve felt this strong need to write and i forgot how much of a beautiful feeling it is. everywhere i look and everything i see gives me so much inspiration for this series. but for now, here’s a little sneak peak of my new child.

(i am him as he is me spotify playlist)

SERIES WARNINGS — heavy religious themes, female reader, satosugu, heavy angst, child abuse, childhood neglect, reader is a brat in the beginning, reader is assumed to be a person of color, gojo’s canon age doesn’t make sense, so everyone is aged up by a couple years, etc.

TOTAL WORD COUNT — tbd…

BEFORE YOU READ — the reader is mentioned to be a third year at jujutsu tech, and i completely understand the ages and time line don’t add up, but for the sake of creativity, let’s all just pretend it makes sense and ignore the age inconsistencies. <33 thank you!! <33

PREVIEW —

The rhythmic buzz of the cicadas and the sweltering humidity of the summer air marked the beginning of summer and the end of… everything. Satoru could feel the material of his pants begin to stick to his legs the longer he sat on the rotting wooden bench. The train tracks before him were rusted and old; they had weathered the storm of time and had the marks to prove it. These tracks were the end. The led you to the beginning. All Satoru had to do was wait.

—

“Maybe it was because I knew she would always come back to me. Maybe I was testing her love for me. Maybe I wanted to push her away before she pushed me away.”

“That’s a lot of maybes.”

“There’s a lot of regret.”

Satoru could still feel the weight of that nostalgic love and regret in his stomach. It has buried itself so deep within him, he’s hardly sure anything would make it go away. The woman next to him looks different now; youthful, free. Satoru wants that. But does he deserve it?

I AM HIM, AS HE IS ME [MASTERLIST]

— CHAPTER ONE: “He Doesn’t Know I Learned it From Him.”

Gojo Satoru, in all aspects, is a God reborn. He holds the world and its universes in the palm of his flaming hand; unknowingly burning everything he holds dear.

— CHAPTER TWO: “I Was a Girl Gulping a Woman’s Grief.”

With an emotionally distant mother and a father plagued with a god complex, there weren’t many people you could look up to. maybe, you have to look down.

— CHAPTER THREE: “Do You Believe Me When I Tell You I’m Trying to be Better?”

With tensions at an all-time high, it’s hard to ignore what has gone neglected for so long. Dams are broken and feelings are hurt, but if there’s one thing everyone knows, it’s that Gojo Satoru loves his daughter more than anything. But does she know that?

— CHAPTER FOUR: “The Unbearable Lightness of Being.”

There is nothing more heroic than the sacrifices made by a mother. But what is born of those sacrifices made? Virtue? Honour? Strength? You knew the answer to that question all too well: Guilt.

— CHAPTER FIVE: “Desperation Sits Heavy on my Tongue.”

You and your father are more alike than either of you are led to believe. He doesn’t reach. You don’t beg. Where does the tension snap?

— CHAPTER SIX: “Through Heaven and Earth, I Alone am the Honoured One.”

Hymns were sung at his birth and prophecies were written for his future, in all aspects, Gojo Satoru was a god reborn. But who is a God to a little girl searching for her father?

[angelmachines]

teru & socialization

i've posted about this before but something ive been thinking about a LOT is mp100's themes of loneliness (and eventual connections). i think this is an aspect of teru's character (in particular) that gets left out because it's not as explicit but i've been wanting to do a deep dive on it for a while and i finally sat down to do it. just a warning, this post is gonna be LONG.

these two panels are from chapter 16 of the manga (which i'm using for my evidence because i. dont want to scrub through the anime LOL). initial sentiment: teru uses his powers to cheat having friends/a good social life and wouldn't have that if he tried earnestly. this is a fair interpretation of the scene. with what we know, at this point of time (as in within the teru-mob fight) teru would not be able to connect with other people earnestly, due to his mindset. which i think is a fair interpretation, HOWEVER:

(from chapter 17 ^^) the first panel shows teru's expression to be strained and the second is visibly unhappy. this puts the first set of panels into a different context, that maybe underneath all of this, teru doesn't WANT any of this life that he's built. keep in mind that i'm analyzing this with teru's possible autistic tendencies in mind & you dont have to believe he's autistic, im not your dad, but i do find this a pretty meaningful indication of masking if he were

(note: yes, the strain can definitely be read as comp-het, and i would agree but that's not relevant so go read this post on that instead)

even if the rest of these panels show teru content with his life, i think these expressions are pretty vital to how we read his life especially because we know so little of it. think about it, if you were a kid desperate for affection because you couldn't get it anywhere else, especially not in a way that would come off as "mature" or "unaffected", wouldn't you also look for validation in your popularity? even if it aligned you with people who you consider fundamentally different to you? my point here is that teru can't not stand out-- it's in his nature-- and we are shown how he tries to blend in & receive attention in the only way possible to him; which is to say that he molds himself into something that is palatable, likeable, and superior to other people. if he's nothing, like mob, he has spent his entire life covering up for it. if he fails socially, like mob, he has to be good at everything (even if he cheats to do so) so that everyone else can look past it.

(side note for my teru angst enjoyers: this is a panel of his mom. the mom who he hasn't seen in years. doesn't it make sense that, if he hasn't heard his mom say he's proud of him for literal years, that he would overachieve in response? not related to the autism thing i just have the teru bug. also don't be misogynistic in my notes both his parents suck we just get a singular mention of his mom)

so if teru couldn't meaningfully have friends before mob, that could very easily be because of his past mindset, right?

...except, we don't.. really... see him make other friends afterwards.

but, the awakening lab, right?

(ok i lied to you sorry there is one anime screenshot and thats because it stood out to me while i rewatched it earlier this month. sorry.) id like to bring attention to this screenshot during the cultural festival because the awakening lab can definitely be seen as a direct contradiction of this and i'd like to point out a couple things:

1) in this scene the shiratori brothers are in another room 2) them and the other three are friends with ritsu (or at least close enough acquaintances to want to see him).

considering this is one of the only times they appear together for Fun i am more inclined to believe this is an encounter where they went together because they all would've gone separately anyway. this isn't to discount the possible bond that these characters might have, but thats the thing. we... aren't really shown that they're friends and enjoy spending time together outside of this screenshot, where two out of six of the members are not even present. not to mention that teru is still placing himself in a role separate from his peers. despite stripping the superiority away, teru is still the awakening lab's mentor, not friend. teru still views himself as fundamentally different in a context where his psychic powers don't make him that way.

...except with mob. i bring this placement of power up because where he is the awakening lab's mentor, teru declares mob to be his rival, or, in other words, teru is just like him. he is accepting that mob and him are the same. (and if we view mob from an autistic lens... so on and so forth)

as if to hammer in that point even further-- in the summer vacation omake, teru explicitly states that "summer break is just a super long, super boring stretch of alone time." i'm not sure of the timeline here, but guessing from the hair, we're at least post season 1. which gives us explicit confirmation here that teru is spending the break alone despite his relationship to the awakening lab. his connection to mob is a lifeline here because mob is one of the only people who can intuitively understand teru's isolation without judgment

(also, on that point of teru's autistic tendencies: teru does and says a LOT of things that would raise other peoples eyebrows and doesn't seem to notice.

here we get teru actively admitting to his home life, right in front of reigen, WHO COULD CALL CHILD SERVICES ON HIM? this genuinely made me rethink this character entirely. teru's filter is... minimal. he isn't constantly volunteering information and generally minds his own business, but if you ask? Well.

teru is a social person, but to say he is proficient in understanding social situations seems... wrong. teru views his loneliness as boring because, despite being fairly open, does not actually allow himself to think about his own feelings and how they affect him. this loneliness is boring because he doesn't have enough of a reference to realize its not

if we are taking pre-mob teru to be a version of himself who is masking, or at the very least someone who is faking a lot of stuff in a less autistic sense, the fight with mob changes teru to the point where he no longer hides himself. in the same way that mob was able to shake teru's fragile superiority complex i think the change in appearance marks the end of the self teru had built up. from this point on we see him become a lot more... Him. his appearance and his fashion choices are, presumably, completely normal to him and we get no indication that he believes otherwise despite the reactions it gets-- which is... well, i wouldn't be writing this post if i thought it was one of his most neurotypical traits.

in fact, he seems... pretty oblivious to what other people think of him. which is an interesting distinction to make considering the intelligence we Know he possesses (which is not to say that you are unintelligent if you don't pick up on social cues, just that its common for media to depict it that way.) these traits are made pointedly, even if unintentionally, separate, ESPECIALLY when you note the amount of characters who Do ruminate on or stare at teru's appearance.

some examples. i don't even think this is all of it-- case in point.)

[to-the-stars8]

Learning to Love Slowly

Jason Todd x Reader All Chapters AO3

64- The Gotham Skyline and Red Hood

The Gotham skyline was nothing to admire, the smog was too thick to see the stars and most times looking up was a distraction no one could afford when the danger was on the ground. You, like any other sane person in Gotham, always kept your eyes forward, but that changed when you started to date Jason. You knew that he jumped rooftop to rooftop, and had heard stories from your friends about seeing the famous bat-themed vigilantes amongst the streetlights. So, it only made sense you started to try to look for him amongst the Gotham rooftops. 

Some nights, you’d sit on the fire escape of your apartment and look for him hoping from rooftop to rooftop. You’d never see him, and you thought it to be good. If you did, it might have indicated that he was subpar at his job. That didn’t stop you, though. 

You’d been out with your friends bar hopping before they suggested a club, but after work and not seeing your boyfriend, you opted to bail. On your way home, you looked for Jason. A few times in your journey you accidentally knocked into a few people, which made you look down, and just when you were about to give up your phone rang. 

“Hello,” You said as you answered. You hadn’t checked the caller ID but could assume who it was by the little chuckle on the other end. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“I am,” Jason was grinning, you could practically hear it. “But, you’ll never guess what.”

“You…” You began, glancing up. Again, nothing. “You’re taking the rest of the night off to be with me.”

He laughed, and it sounded angelic. “No, sweetheart, but I’d give anything to do that.”

You smiled. “Then, what?”

“I was just hanging out on a rooftop, taking a breather, and I saw this gorgeous girl walking down the street.” You gasped, looking up. If anyone was around, you probably looked nuts, but you didn’t care. Jason laughed again. “Gonna give me away if you keep doing that.”

Bashfully, you looked down, still grinning. “Sorry.” You then lowered your voice. “Where are you, though?”

“Look up on your right, casually.”

It took you a second to find him, but you did. He leaned over the edge of the building, just in your line of sight, waving slowly. It took everything in your power not to jump around and wave back to him like crazy.

“I see you,” You said excitedly. “And have I ever told you how handsome you look in your gear?”

Jason said something under his breath before disappearing from your view. A bit disappointed, you thought about saying something but knew it was for the best. The last thing you wanted was for him to put himself in danger just for you. 

Finally, Jason’s voice came through again. “On ya way home?”

“Yeah, my friends, they wanted to dance, but I’m kind of tired.” Quietly, you added, “And I was hoping to see you.”

When Jason said your name it was soft and sounded just the right amount of desperation that it turned you on a little. You said his name back to him, hoping that it would convince him to come home. 

“I,” Jason sucked in a breath. “I’ll swing by your apartment as soon as I can.”

It wasn’t what you wanted, but it was close enough. “Okay, I’ll be waiting, honey.”

He made a noise that sounded like something between a sign and a moan before there was some shuffling. “Fuck it. I’ll meet you at your place.”

You grinned, glancing up yet again but saw nothing. Shaking your head, you told Jason that you couldn’t wait to see him before hanging up. Maybe the Gotham skyline had a little more to offer than smog and danger. 

[supernova-stardust]

A Habit to Kick (The Age-Old Curse)

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 after the break wip | rated M | jegulus | wolfstar | rosekiller | total word count: 19,273 full fic also on ao3

A few weeks ago, Regulus Black jumped off a bridge. It's not that he really wanted to die, but he didn't really want to live either. He didn't think anyone would care one way or another, if he's honest. Now he's stuck learning how to live.

James Potter was used to seeing Reg every day at the cafe he worked in, until one day he stopped coming in. When he finally sees the guy he's been crushing on come back into the cafe, he knew he had to take his chance at asking him out on a date.

***This fic deals with heavy themes of depression, lack of a will to live, and suicide, but will have a happy ending***

Regulus threw himself onto his bed and let out a heavy groan. He thought that nothing his brother did could surprise him anymore, but here he was, shocked. Sirius hadn't acted this immature since they both lived at home with their parents and Regulus had always assumed that it was in act of defiance more than anything else. He couldn't help but wonder what had triggered his brother to be so over-protective when he had been the one encouraging him to go on the date in the first place. He had to know what going on a date meant, right?

He pulled his phone from his pocket and opened the text thread with James, staring at the glaringly bright screen in contemplation. He started typing out a few messages before promptly deleting each one.

sorry about my bother

you're a great kisser

hey i had a nice time, sorry my brother ruined it

funny story, a few weeks ago i jumped off a bridge because i was so desperately lonely that it felt better than living with the fear of being forever alone, anyway that's why my brother is a fucking menace to society right now

He continued to stare at the open thread, wondering what he could even say, when a text from James popped up on the screen.

[James]: hey, i had an amazing time with you. i'd love to go on another date, is later this week too soon? i really want to see you again.

Regulus fumbled his phone from shock and then immediately began spiraling. Had James watched as Regulus typed and typed and typed, never sending a message of his own? Of course having the thread open, James would have seen that Regulus had read the text immediately. He quickly typed a reply.

[Regulus]: i would love that, my treat like we talked about. how's friday? [James]: friday's perfect, you plan and let me know details, but i'll plan to pick you up since you don't have a car? [Regulus]: sounds perfect, can't wait

James reacted to his message with a heart almost immediately and he felt a flutter of excitement in the pit of his stomach. Then, another text came through and Regulus nearly screamed. He probably would have if his brother and Remus weren't in his apartment to judge him.

[James]: can't wait to kiss you again [Regulus]: you have no idea how pissed i am at my brother for interrupting us [James]: i have some idea *exhaling emoji*

Regulus laughed, imaging James' face making the same expression. He heard a soft knock at his door and locked his phone as he placed it on his nightstand. "Go away, Sirius."

Sirius opened the door anyway, a sheepish look painted on his face. "Look, I know you don't want to see me right now—"

"You're right, I don't. Leave."

"I want to explain myself. Please?"

"I don't want to listen right now. Whatever it is, it can wait until I'm less pissed."

"Yeah, sure, I mean… I wanna believe that. I do. Except we both know that you don't get less pissed. You just ruminate."

"Let me ruminate, Sirius."

"Listen—"

"No, fuck off." Regulus grabbed a porcelain trinket tray from his bedside table and dumped the contents onto the surface before holding the tray up in his hand. "I will throw this at your head if you don't fuck off right now."

Sirius held his hands up in surrender. "Fine, fine. I'll be here when you're ready to talk." He left the room, closing the door gently behind him. As Regulus laid back, he overheard his brother and Remus talking in hushed tones in the hallway, but he wasn't able to make out what they were saying.

He appreciated both of them, he really did. He would even go so far as to admit to himself—never to Sirius—that they were a huge reason why he decided to follow through on all of the treatment he's been participating in. Sure, a huge lesson in therapy was that he needed to do it for himself, but he couldn't find it in himself to care about himself enough to get better right now. He did, however, care about Sirius. He cared about Remus. Maybe it was pathetic to consider his only reason for carrying on to be his brother and his brother's boyfriend, but it was the truth.

Fuck, he was pathetic.

***

In the morning, Regulus mindlessly went through his routine before going to the café, driven solely by the motivation to see James. As he hurried through the door, he immediately deflated upon seeing his least favorite barista behind the counter instead. Peter.

It wasn't that Peter was unpleasant, in fact the problem very well might have been that he was too pleasant. He was boisterous and what he lacked in ability, he made up for in friendly discussion and remembering every detail about each person who came through the door. He may have routinely burned himself with steamed milk, but he always had a laugh at himself about it. Regulus found him to be absolutely irritating.

"Want anything other than your black coffee, Reg?"

"No, thank you." Regulus replied curtly as he took out his cash.

"You sure? I know you don't usually grab anything to eat, but the almond croissants are especially good today." Peter gave him a smile that was far too cheerful for the early hour as he poured the cup of coffee.

"I'm good," Regulus deadpanned. He held out the cash for his coffee in a polite attempt to end the conversation, but when Peter placed the coffee on the counter, he reached into the pastry case. He placed an almond croissant on a plate and set it on the counter next to the coffee and Regulus gaped in shock.

"On the house," Peter said cheerfully. "Have a great day!"

When Peter didn't take the cash in Regulus' outstretched hand he placed it on the counter and picked up the coffee and the croissant. He stared at the abomination of a pastry the entire time he walked towards the back of the café. Placing his things down on the table and sitting down, he continued to glare at the croissant. It wasn't that he didn't like croissants—he did, very much so—but almond? Who on earth had thought to put the least impressive nut inside something so decadent as a croissant?

He sipped his coffee—it tasted terrible—and decided that today was going to be awful.

***

This was the first time Regulus had participated in group therapy that wasn't mandated by the hospital as a part of his treatment. Participated was a strong word, really. He sat in a metal folding chair and disassociated as everyone around him shared their traumatic backstory, a valid reason for their attempts at ending it all.

He couldn't help but to feel inadequate. First, his reasons for jumping off a bridge were trivial at best, and then he couldn't even kill himself properly.

None of his backstory was nearly as traumatic as anything he had heard here today. Here were people who had been terribly abused, neglected, and in one case quite literally tortured. Yet here he sat, among these people with real reasons to give up on living, with nothing but a little bit of religious trauma and loneliness to fuel his suicide attempt.

The group leader, Poppy, looked to him next. He had been so self-indulged in feeling sorry for himself that he hadn't heard what she said. "What?" Regulus asked, making it clear to the entire room that he hadn't been paying attention. He heard a few people laugh under their breath and he did his best to ignore them.

"Is there anything you'd like to share with us today, Regulus?" Poppy was kind, her voice gentle. He hair was pulled back in a way that would make many look severe and cruel, but on her it accentuated her softness. Everything from her face, to her voice, to her body was soft and sweet. She exuded a type of maternal energy that Regulus had longed to feel his entire life.

He resented her for it. It made him feel weak in the face of her questions.

"I— Well, I fired my therapist this week."

"Did something happen?" She asked, probing him to elaborate.

"Not really? I just…didn't like him." He answered like it was a question. When she didn't say anything he continued. "He was late to the appointment. He didn't bother to take the time to read my chart before our session. I just didn't feel like he cared, so I fired him."

"I've fired therapists before," a girl with platinum hair said in an airy voice. "The least they can do is be likeable. Awful of them to not be likeable, really."

"Pandora, we've talked about this. You can't villainize people because you don't like them. People are all individuals and not liking someone doesn't make them bad," Poppy admonished.

"Yes it does." Pandora answered so plainly that Regulus choked out a laugh.

Poppy leveled a reprimanding look towards Pandora before turning back to Regulus. "Have you found a new therapist then?"

"Uh…"

"Regulus, group therapy is a great tool to help in your recovery process, but one-on-one therapy is very important. Stay after for a few moments so I can give you a list of therapists who are taking new patients, okay?" Poppy said with no room for Regulus to argue.

Group therapy continued with Regulus staying silent throughout everyone else updating the group about their weeks and their goals. When Poppy asked Regulus what his goal for the week was, he said to find a new therapist, taking the easy way out so that he didn't have to think any further. He had been intending on it anyway, but now he was going to milk it for all that it was. As everyone got up to leave, Pandora gave him a smile and a wave before heading out with a skip in her step. Regulus followed Poppy to where she had left her belongings and she rifled through her bag to find the list of therapists she promised him.

"I try to keep this list up to date with therapists who are currently open for new patients and who would be able to see you soon, so you shouldn't need to call too many in order to get an appointment in the next week or so." Poppy pulled out the list and held it out to him. He hesitated for a moment before finally taking it in his hand and scanning it over.

"Do you know any of them personally?" He knew it was a bit of an invasive question, but Poppy was kind and if she knew any of these therapists herself, he hoped that her knowing them would be a bit of a filter in his search for the right therapist for him.

"I went to school with Sybil Trelawney. She's… Very kind. Different. She tends to be a bit outside of the box for most, but she means well. I find that sometimes it's refreshing to see things from her perspective though."

"Thanks," Regulus said and he meant it. "I'll give her office a call to make an appointment. I could do with a new perspective, I think."

"I hope it works out," Poppy said with a gentle smile as she grabbed her bag and followed him out the door.

When Regulus stepped outside, he saw Remus leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette and let out a groan. "I can walk home alone just fine, you know. It's only a fifteen minute walk."

Remus took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled, avoiding looking at Regulus as he did. "I know, I'm not here to babysit you."

Regulus leaned against the wall and held out his hand in a silent request to share the cigarette Remus was smoking.

"I didn't know you smoked," Remus said.

"I thought you weren't babysitting."

"Fair enough." Remus handed him the cigarette and watched Regulus take a long drag. When Regulus exhaled without coughing, Remus took out another cigarette from his pack and lit it. Regulus raised an eyebrow but continued to smoke. "You clearly need it."

"I do," Regulus laughed, a hollow and humorless thing. "Why are you here then?"

"I wanted to talk about your brother."

"I'd really rather not."

"I know, but we all have to live together for the next week or so and I'd rather it be peaceful. I can't handle the stress."

Regulus took another drag from his cigarette, his eyes fixed on the scars painting Remus' face as he mulled over his words. Life hadn't been kind to Remus—not when it came to the body he was forced to live in. Even at his young age, there were days where he struggled to get out of bed. Plagued by rheumatoid arthritis and lingering injuries from a childhood car accident, his joints would flare up in agony whenever the weather was particularly cold or when the stress was too heavy on his shoulders.

"You should quit smoking if you're so concerned with your health."

"Sure, and you should talk to your brother. We both have to do things we don't want to, I guess."

"Oh, come on." Regulus complained as he tilted his head back into the wall and stared at the overcast sky.

"You walked into that one, I'm afraid." Remus pushed himself off the wall and stubbed his cigarette out, pocketing the trash and giving Regulus a look that said let's go.

Regulus followed suit and the two of them walked towards his apartment in silent understanding. Neither of them were chatty or wanted to spill their guts out to one another, but they had always understood each other all the same.

"He didn't mean to ruin your date, you know." Remus said, breaking the silence when they were nearly home. "He just says shit sometimes, doesn't even think about it before it comes out of his mouth. I know you know what I mean, you grew up with him. He's mortifying sometimes. And protective. I know the impact overshadows his intentions, but he really does mean well. What you did—the whole jumping thing—it really fucked him up. He won't say it because he's trying not to make it about him, but it did. Fucked me up too, if we're having an honest moment here. I think you need to give him a little bit of grace to act childish right now. We're all coping the best we can."

"I'm not acting—"

"I'm not even gonna let you finish that sentence, you've been petulant and childish. You literally shoved him, Reg. And that's okay, we've been letting you act out. But you need to give Sirius the same grace, this happened to him too. He nearly lost his little brother and now he's doing the best he can to be strong and act like it didn't hurt so it's easier for you."

"Can we go back to unhealthy coping mechanisms? I want another cigarette."

"Nah, we just quit. Besides, we're home. I can't be seen as an enabler."

"We did not—Ugh, he's gonna smell it on us anyway." Regulus groaned as they walked up the walkway to his apartment. "Just one more, then I swear we can quit."

Remus rolled his eyes, but he reached into his pockets for his cigarettes and lighter anyway. "You're awful, you know."

"Yeah, I know." Regulus smirked, taking the cigarette from Remus' outstretched hand. He put it in his mouth and leaned into Remus' space as he lit the cigarette for him. "I can't help it though, I'm a byproduct of my upbringing. Just look at what a mess my brother is. Therapy can only do so much."

Remus laughed before lighting his own cigarette and taking a deep drag. "How was therapy anyway?"

"It was therapy? I don't know. It never seems to make much of a difference."

"You get out of it what you put in, you know." Remus shrugged. "Not saying that you're not putting in the effort, but you're not exactly known to be the most vulnerable guy around."

"I've already had terrible coffee, gone to therapy, been babysat by you, and now you want to give me more therapy?" Regulus inhaled his cigarette. "I'm gonna get a fucking migraine before I even talk to Sirius."

"Hey, I said I wasn't babysitting."

"Could have fooled me."

Remus chuckled and stubbed out his cigarette. "Fair enough, c'mon." He walked away and flicked his finger between Regulus' brows. "Sirius was in a good mood when I left."

Regulus trudged up the steps behind Remus and they walked inside together. He shoved his hands into his pockets in search of something to do with his body. Talking to his brother wasn't something that he was exactly pleased about—Sirius wasn't known to admit when he was wrong, but then again, neither was Regulus. Growing up, they couldn't show any sign of weakness, and admitting they were wrong was a huge weakness that they couldn't risk. He was trying to be better, though. The two of them had made huge progress in the last few years in regards to their relationship, but they also hadn't had many opportunities to fight as they had. Something about living together brought out the worst in both of them.

"Hey," Sirius said from the couch in the living room. His voice sounded small and unsure. "How'd it go?"

Regulus wasn't sure if Sirius was talking to him or to Remus, but he answered anyway. "It was fine. I got a new recommendation for a therapist. Gonna call tomorrow, I'm too beat to do it today."

Sirius nodded. "Good, that's… Good. I'm glad you found someone new."

Regulus sat on the couch next to him and watched Remus walk past the living room into the kitchen to busy himself. Close, but not intruding. Just present enough to help diffuse the situation if the brothers blew up at one another.

"Look, I— I'm sorry I shoved you."

"It's fine, Reggie, I get it. I'm sorry I ruined your date."

Regulus scoffed. "You didn't ruin my date, asshole. I'm seeing him again on Friday."

"Oi, then why did you get so pissed?"

"I said you didn't ruin my date, I didn't say you didn't ruin the moment. Which was amazing, by the way—"

"I really don't want to hear about how great making out was from my baby brother," Sirius complained.

"Then you shouldn't have interrupted the moment." Regulus leaned back into the couch and rested his head on his brother's shoulder. "I really like him, you know. He's not just in it for the sex, I think he actually wants to get to know me."

Sirius pulled him in closer, hugging his body and resting his head on top of Regulus' dark curls. "That's good, Reggie. I'm glad, honest. I want you to be able to come to me and talk about it, just… Don't tell me about your sex life. You can talk to Remus about that. Deal?"

"Deal."

"So… are we good?"

"Yeah, we're good."

"You stink like cigarettes," Sirius said solemnly into the quiet room. Regulus heard Remus choke on a laugh in the kitchen—clearly, he was eavesdropping.

"Don't ruin the moment. Remus and I quit today." Regulus said, including Remus in the whole concept of 'quitting' as punishment for babysitting and eavesdropping.

Sirius hummed. "Glad to hear it, he's needed to quit for a while."

***

"Oh, thank God it's you today," Regulus said as he walked into the café to find James working behind the counter.

"Well aren't you sweet," James said, laughing and pouring Regulus' coffee.

Digging through his bag for cash, Regulus snorted. "Peter is a fucking nightmare, James. Why does he still work here?"

"What, you're just happy to see me because Pete can't manage to brew a cup of coffee?" James gave him a mock pout and held his coffee just out of reach. "And here I thought I was special."

"You are, but Peter is so intolerable that he overshadows your greatness."

James stared at him in horror. "What did he do?"

"He made me take a croissant yesterday, wouldn't take no for an answer, and while I may have excused a plain croissant, he insisted that I try the almond one. Wouldn't take no for an answer. Almonds? In croissants? An abomination, truly. I swear he watched me the entire time I was here to see if I'd eat it." Regulus shook his head. "I didn't, for the record."

"What a terrible person he is," James said with mock outrage. "How dare he give out free croissants."

"Almond croissants, James."

"Yes, yes, you're right, love. Almond croissants. The horror."

Love. James said it so casually, Regulus was determined not to visibly react to the pet name, but internally he preened.

"Glad to know you're on my side on this." He said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "I-I wanted to warn you that my friends are stopping by here today to meet up. They… might be insufferable."

"Your friends? Evan and Barty?"

Regulus nodded. "We haven't touched base in person in a bit and since this is the only place I go to besides my apartment and therapy these days, they're trapping me into hanging out. I can't break my routines and they know it." He paused, realizing too late how much he had just divulged to James in that moment. What was it about him that made Regulus feel as though he could say anything that came to mind?

"I think that's good of them," James said.

"Good of— Huh?" Regulus was speechless.

"Yeah, I mean, we all want to be seen, right? Seems like they see you for who you are and work with you."

What was with this guy?

"How are you so fucking perfect all the time?"

"I-I'm not, but I have done a lot of therapy myself. Teaches you things, y'know?"

"Yeah," Regulus said softly. "I suppose it does." He grabbed his coffee from the counter and hoisted his bag higher on his shoulder. "Are you working tomorrow?"

"I'm not, but I'll see you tomorrow night? What time should I pick you up?"

"Let's shoot for 6, but I might be a little anxious and take a few minutes longer. Just… text me when you're there this time? I'll come out. I don't really want to have my brother ruin another date for us already."

"Can't wait." James gave him a soft smile. A blush dusted his cheeks and Regulus couldn't help but stare for an extra moment before turning away to allow James to continue his work.

Regulus settled into his usual booth, pulling his headphones on and placing his laptop and coffee on the table in front of him. He opened the outline of his novel and stared at the screen, hoping that a revelation to the plot would come to him. It didn't, of course, but staring at the screen while sipping coffee was a necessary component to writing a novel.

After working for a while, he glanced up to see Evan and Barty enter the café hand in hand and waved at them. Evan waved back as Barty walked up to the counter. Regulus' hearing was still impaired by his noise-canceling headphones, but very quickly he could tell that Barty was being a menace. He pulled his headphones off and pushed his way out of the booth towards his friends.

Evan immediately pulled him into a hug, which was… strange. They weren't huggers. In fact, he couldn't remember ever hugging Evan when he was sober.

"Uh, hi?" Regulus tried to pull away, but Evan just pulled him in tighter.

"I need you to promise not to kill Bee," Evan said under his breath.

"Sure."

"He's hitting on James."

"I take it back, he's dead."

"Reg, you promised."

"I lied."

Evan locked his arms around Regulus and spun them around so he was facing Barty. "Bee, I can't hold him back any longer, abort mission."

James and Barty laughed in unison and it immediately soothed Regulus' frayed nerves. He was worried that his friends were going to be too much. He knew that they were loud, silly, and overall a lot to handle. Most people were surprised by the fact that Regulus was a part of their group, but those people didn't know any of the trio well enough to know how perfectly they all fit together. Three completely different people perfectly designed to balance each other out.

"Aw, Reg, are you jealous?" Barty teased. He came up to where Evan was still hugging Regulus tightly and wrapped his arms around both of them, sandwiching Regulus between them. He planted a kiss on Evan's lips and then on the top of Regulus' head. "You have nothing to fear, James rejected me. Can you believe it?"

"Well, now that I know the three of you are that close," James said suggestively.

"Now you've done it," Regulus said.

"Done what?" James asked.

"Barty isn't gonna rest until he's gotten you into bed with us now," Evan sighed. "He practically begs Reg for a blowjob at every opportunity."

"Speaking of—"

"No." Evan and Regulus said in unison.

Regulus looked up to James in an attempt to gauge his comfort level. After their conversations around sex and dating, Regulus was nervous that Barty's forwardness and constant flirting would be abrasive, but James' eyes were crinkled with laughter and his expression was open. He wriggled his way out of his friend's embrace and glared at the two of them. "Can't you act normal for five minutes? At least long enough to properly greet someone?"

Barty and Evan adjusted themselves so that Barty had his arm slung over Evan's shoulder and Evan nestled himself into the crook of Barty's body. They couldn't help but to touch each other at every possible moment they were together. Two halves of a whole, with just enough space for Regulus and their mildly codependent queer platonic relationship.

"What's normal, Reg?" Evan asked. "Don't tell me you're getting boring in your old age. You used to be the wildest of us all."

James watched them carefully as he worked on making their coffees, silently observing and absorbing every detail that the three of them revealed.

"I was not," Regulus gaped. "Don't make shit up just to embarrass me in front of James."

"No, he's right," Barty said. "I might have always been the one that people expected to be crazy, but you're the one who always encouraged me and you can't even deny it."

"How crazy are we talking here?" James asked as he placed their coffees down on the counter in front of them. "Threesomes crazy or passing out from drinking crazy? Drugs?"

"Yes," Evan and Barty said in unison. Regulus had the fleeting thought that maybe he should have tried harder to kill himself—at least then he wouldn't be stuck in this conversation right now.

James laughed. He was expecting to be judged, but instead James said something that surprised them all. "I've been there too, I just wouldn't expect it from Reg—He's so quiet and unassuming."

"Not once he's had a few shots," Evan teased.

Regulus' eyes widened in shock, ignoring Evan in favor of finding out anything new he could from James' past. "You told me—"

"That doesn't mean that I've been a virtuous priest my entire life, Reg."

"I like him," Barty said with a maniacal grin plastered on his face.

"We know," Evan smirked. "Let's go sit, yeah?" He moved to grab his coffee. "Thanks, James. It was great to meet you. Let's all get together sometime when you're not working and you can tell us all about your party days."

"Sounds great, it was nice meeting you guys too."

"Bye James," Barty sing-songed. "I'll miss you."

Regulus smacked Barty upside the back of his head as they walked together towards his table in the back of the café. "I could kill you, you know. I'm rich enough to pay off the cops and no one would ever find your body."

"You'd miss me too much and we all know it," Barty said.

They piled into the booth and Regulus put away his laptop to make space for his friends.

"So, how's writing going?" Evan asked, always one to start with a safe subject with Regulus. He was aware that his friend did this to help him put his guard down and while a part of him resented it, a bigger part of him appreciated that Evan always went out of his way to soften the blow of whatever heavier conversation they were about to have.

"Not great, honestly. I haven't been feeling inspired, I guess. Haven't written much the last few days."

"Maybe it's because you need to stop writing about murder and start writing romance," Barty suggested, leaning in conspiratorially. "How did the date go?"

"Barty, he's right there," Evan whispered.

"He can't hear us all the way over here. C'mon, spill."

Regulus sighed and took a sip of his coffee to delay the inevitable. "It was amazing."

"Why do you sound so put out by it?" Evan asked.

"Because, I just— He's so sweet, I'm afraid I'll ruin him."

"Was the sex good? I just know that man fucks like—"

"We didn't have sex." Regulus said quickly to avoid hearing whatever Barty was going to say next.

"You— What?" Barty sputtered in complete shock. Evan, however, looked pleased.

"We didn't have sex. He's… I think he's demisexual? He told me he hasn't gone on more than one or two dates with other men before, which… I was worried meant that he was just experimenting by dating me, but he says he's sure that he's queer so… I don't fucking know. He's sweet and fucking beautiful and I can't stop thinking about him, so I'm just gonna keep going at whatever pace he sets. Follow his lead."

"I'm impressed. Dare I say, proud?" Evan said. "I think this will be great for you, Reg. Even if it doesn't go further, just going on dates with someone without the expectation of it leading to sex is so important. And god, he really is beautiful. Did you guys kiss? Please tell me you kissed."

Regulus groaned. "You're never gonna fucking believe this."

He recounted the story of how amazing their first kiss had been, and then how it was immediately interrupted by his brother being absolutely terrible. The three of them laughed and made fun of Sirius, and caught up on everything they had missed out on in the last few weeks, completely ignoring the elephant in the room that was Regulus' attempt. It was like they had all made a silent agreement to never talk about it again, so long as Regulus was continuing his treatment and seemed to be improving. And he had to admit, at least to himself, that things did seem to be improving.

For the first time in a long time, Regulus felt content and was looking forward to the next day.

[ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal]

Don’t ever tell yourself that you’re not enough, I am certain that you’re truly fine

PART EIGHT

Ot8 x reader

Word count: 567

Just a warning, this is my first fanfic! Does have age regression themes so if you’re not a fan, I ask that you respectfully just don’t read <3 also this will definitely have some angst

!THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION!

-sorry this chapter took forever-

A few days later was a day all of you had off, as well as the day that you Han and now as well as Minho planned to have the date. To say you were nervous would be an understatement. Was Minho on this date just to “make sure things were going good” or for something else? You hope to god it’s for something else, hoping this date is for three instead of two and a chaperone. The thoughts consume you until you hear Minho trying to catch your attention, “(y/n)??” He ask a bit more loudly, “are you even listening?”

You clear your throat and nod your head, taking a sip of your drink. You three decided to have the date at a local cafe, a cozy place that wouldn’t be too overwhelming.

“I don’t think she was listening.” Han says to Minho, causing you to send a playful glare his way.

A waiter approaches us, “will the check be separate?” He ask which Minho shakes his head “one check,” he says, holding his hand out. The waiter hands it to him and walks away.

“How much is it? I can pay for my half,” you say, Han basically telling Minho the same thing.

Minho shakes his head, “I’m not letting you two pay. For one, I basically included myself on this date and two,” he looks at us, “why would I let my two babies pay?”

Your cheeks instantly turn red and Han chokes of the sip of his beverage.

“Why did you come on this date?” You ask hesitantly, looking at Minho with curious eyes.

Minho lets out a forced chuckle, now his cheeks becoming red. He starts picking at the napkin that sits in front of him. “To supervise,” he lies.

“Hyung, just tell her the truth,” Han whispers, or at least tries to but you heard him.

Your curious gaze shifts to Han then back to Minho, “truth about what?”

Minho looks at Han shyly, his voice shaky as if he’s nervous. “I can’t tell her, I-“

You cut him off, “Minho tell me what?”

Minho now looks at you, “I care about you” he starts off, his voice quiet. “When I first met you, i just thought of you as Hannies friend, then I thought how much you act like Han.” He lets out a shaky breath, “i felt a sense of protectiveness towards you… then i realized how much I loved you.”

His confession shocks you, never have you would’ve thought that he liked you. You open your mouth, then close it. Han looks at me and Minho then groans, “oh come on, you two can not be serious right now.”

“What-“ you start to ask, but get cut off by Han.

“Don’t you dare “what” me, young lady. Remember that time after you met Minho and you were gushing to me how much you thought he was hot and all the-“ Han goes on before you put your hand over his mouth.

You look at Han with wide eyes, and can see Minho having his signature smirk from the corner of your eyes. “You told me you wouldn’t tell him,” you tell Han.

“Desperate times calls for desperate measures, princess,” Han says after you remove your hand from his mouth. “So I can positively say that this date was for us three instead of us three and our babysitter.”

(If anyone has request for future chapters or just one shots, fill free to let me know!)

(Taglist is open)

TAGLIST: @puppyminnnie @galaxy4489 @xxeiraxx @yunhospuppy

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

It’s important that the first revelation of Nissa Nissa is accompanied by some level of skepticism from Salladhor Saan and aversion on Davos’ part. It doesn’t sound right that Azor Ahai chose to sacrifice his wife for a magic sword. It shouldn’t sound right.

“A hundred days and a hundred nights he labored on the third blade, and as it glowed white-hot in the sacred fires, he summoned his wife. ‘Nissa Nissa,’ he said to her, for that was her name, ‘bare your breast, and know that I love you best of all that is in this world.’ She did this thing, why I cannot say, and Azor Ahai thrust the smoking sword through her living heart. It is said that her cry of anguish and ecstasy left a crack across the face of the moon, but her blood and her soul and her strength and her courage all went into the steel. Such is the tale of the forging of Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes.

“Now do you see my meaning? Be glad that it is just a burnt sword that His Grace pulled from that fire. Too much light can hurt the eyes, my friend, and fire burns.” Salladhor Saan finished the last grape and smacked his lips. “When do you think the king will bid us sail, good ser?”

[…] A true sword of fire, now, that would be a wonder to behold. Yet at such a cost … When he thought of Nissa Nissa, it was his own Marya he pictured, a good-natured plump woman with sagging breasts and a kindly smile, the best woman in the world. He tried to picture himself driving a sword through her, and shuddered. I am not made of the stuff of heroes, he decided. If that was the price of a magic sword, it was more than he cared to pay.

Not only does it not make sense that Nissa Nissa would agree to her husband’s request, it’s also telling how Salladhor Saan expresses relief in knowing that King Stannis didn’t actually forge Lightbringer. Because forging Lightbringer means human sacrifice. And why should one be deprived of their life, even if it’s for a magic sword? Davos is very right to be creeped out by it.

The theme of sacrifice shows up quite a bit in ASOIAF and Davos I isn’t the first or last time. The very first chapter in the series, Bran I, tackles this idea with Jon and the direwolves.

“Lord Stark,” Jon said. It was strange to hear him call Father that, so formal. Bran looked at him with desperate hope. “There are five pups,” he told Father. “Three male, two female.”

“What of it, Jon?”

“You have five trueborn children,” Jon said. “Three sons, two daughters. The direwolf is the sigil of your House. Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord.”

Bran saw his father’s face change, saw the other men exchange glances. He loved Jon with all his heart at that moment. Even at seven, Bran understood what his brother had done. The count had come right only because Jon had omitted himself. He had included the girls, included even Rickon, the baby, but not the bastard who bore the surname Snow, the name that custom decreed be given to all those in the north unlucky enough to be born with no name of their own.

Their father understood as well. “You want no pup for yourself, Jon?” he asked softly.

“The direwolf graces the banners of House Stark,” Jon pointed out. “I am no Stark, Father.”

Jon, though he may desperately desire to have his own piece of magic, would not sacrifice his siblings for it. He wouldn’t dare to deprave the girls, Arya and Sansa, of their own magic even when it might be very easy to do so. This is a pretty stark contrast (pun intended) to Azor Ahai and his Nissa Nissa. Azor Ahai’s first line of thought was to sacrifice his wife whereas Jon’s was to sacrifice himself. Sure Azor Ahai got his magic sword, but Jon’s self-sacrifice is not in vain either because he later earns his own wolf, who turns out to be even more special than the rest in the pack.

Bran IV kind of alludes to the idea of self sacrifice through Old Nan’s retelling of the last hero:

So as cold and death filled the earth, the last hero determined to seek out the children, in the hopes that their ancient magics could win back what the armies of men had lost. He set out into the dead lands with a sword, a horse, a dog, and a dozen companions. For years he searched, until he despaired of ever finding the children of the forest in their secret cities. One by one his friends died, and his horse, and finally even his dog, and his sword froze so hard the blade snapped when he tried to use it. And the Others smelled the hot blood in him, and came silent on his trail, stalking him with packs of pale white spiders big as hounds—”

Though the one we know is called the “last hero”, notice that it’s not a title but a mere descriptor; there were many heroes before him who died and he was the last one standing. There is a human toll in this legend, but it’s implied to be self sacrifice. It’s also interesting that though there is mention of a blade, it is the children of the forest’s magic that is key. This does kind of bleed into what we know about the Night’s Watch and its relation to the long night. The Night’s Watch victory was a group effort, rather than the actions of any one man.

We have several legends surrounding the long night that work, but only one involves the cost of sacrificing someone else (that we know of). This might be where GRRM is headed with Stannis and his creation of Lightbringer. Sure Azor Ahai did get his magic sword, but it doesn’t negate the steep human cost. GRRM has lowkey confirmed that Stannis is sure to burn Shireen. And rather than this sacrifice not working, I think it’s more likely that it does work. Stannis does indeed create the flaming sword. But this will be directly weighed by other (self) sacrifices made for the same purpose. Stannis’ sacrifice of his daughter won’t work any better than other characters who choose to sacrifice themselves even when knowing that they are not going to go down as individual legends; I think Jon Snow will once again be the prime example of this, as he has already resigned himself to being a shadow in history despite initially wanting the opposite. Maester Aemon was right in saying that

[…] all deceive ourselves, when we want to believe. Melisandre most of all, I think. The sword is wrong, she has to know that … light without heat … an empty glamor … the sword is wrong, and the false light can only lead us deeper into darkness, Sam

The sword is wrong. Azor Ahai is NOT one to be emulated. Rather, he should be a cautionary tale. He is not any more special for his sacrifice than what the last hero or the men of the Night’s Watch did, even though we know his name but don’t know theirs. GRRM answered the question regarding sacrifice before he even posed it. To make someone else pay the price is flat out wrong. The only true and worthy sacrifice is really that of the self.

[bvidzsoo]

Love Me Like A Rockstar (4)

ー☆ Chapter 4: Comatose

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: cussing, mentions of a panic attack ー☆ Word count: 8.1k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Hello, lovelies! The long awaited 4th chapter is here and omg I'm so sorry for the long wait! I haven't even realized it's been a month since my last update...but I had a lot of stuff to do for my University and just didn't find the time to write, but here I am now, and I'll try to update next week or after that! I promise you'll have lots of Mingi next chapter *wink wink*, but I hope after reading this chapter Yn's attitude will make more sense, and that she won't be so insufferable anymore to you all reading. Please listen to the fourth song Comatose before or while reading this chapter! Yes, I have totally made Mingi wear his waterbomb outfit in this chapter because waterbomb Mingi shall NEVER be forgotten, goodbye. Please leave feedback, I truly appreciate it! Enjoy now! I have a surprise coming next chapter, hehet^^

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @juicy-red @scarfac3 @sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

『I don't care enough to miss you

After all the shit we've been through

My heart's comatose, comatose』

The blinking of the cursor was staring back at me mockingly, a reminder that my fingers haven’t moved in the past ten minutes. No thoughts connected to the theme of my project came to mind, no matter how hard I tried and how many articles I read. My mind seemed to be blank at the moment and it seemed like it wouldn’t get any better anytime soon. To be honest, I wasn’t feeling well. And that usually reflects in my work and influences my whole mood, and even day. I thought I would have a very productive day as I got ready this morning and went to the library to finish my art assignment, however, the little kick I had, came crushing down the second Mingi decided to sit with me. Well, perhaps that one small factor wasn’t the real reason which ruined my mood and brought me to the brink of a panic attack, and the current void and emptiness I have been feeling in my chest ever since. Perhaps it was the mention of Jeong Yunho and the reminder of how little I have always meant to him. My lower lip quivered again, and I allowed myself to fall back in the chair I was sitting in, staring up at my white ceiling in desperation. Why did it have to be him? Why did it have to be Yunho again? Was the Universe having a laugh at me? What were the chances that this Song Mingi was the same Song Mingi Yunho never shut up about while we were dating? It was frustrating. It was maddening and it was…mocking. I couldn’t help but feel bitter the longer I allowed the image of Mingi and Yunho laughing, hanging out, falling all over each other, linger in my mind. Their hearts filled with joy and their time spent with endless conversations, late night trips to the convenience store, random road trips and the overall feeling of knowing that you always had one person you could rely on no matter what. What did Mingi have that I didn’t? What did Yunho see in him that he never saw in me? Why was Mingi better than me? And why…was I suddenly feeling this vial jealousy creeping up in my chest like an ugly monster, the whisper of thoughts I have always tried to push to the depths of my mind after Yunho’s sudden, but heartbreaking, departure from my life?

『Straight coats and empty cabinets

Ashes from all the mess you left

New lease without you

I confess that I'm happy you're gone』

What was it about Song Mingi that Yunho was so infatuated with? What was it with Song Mingi that everyone seemed to like and gravitate towards? All I could see was the arrogance and self-centeredness rolling off of him in waves any time he entered a room. The need to shine and be the center of attention, to be the only person anyone was able to see, to focus on. The constant smirk or grin on his lips, almost always mocking or just an awful reminder that he was better than you—it was subtle, but it was there. The mischievous glint in his eyes as he watched your every move, hiding behind a wall of emotionlessness, sharp eyes watching but not giving anything away. There was no honesty in his expressions or in his actions. But why did nobody else see that? Why was I the only one picking up on how insincere Mingi actually was? Why did nobody question what he hid behind those dark and sharp eyes? His face so often void of any emotion. And then, to further prove my confusion, the Mingi I talked to today was—why did he feel different? Everything staring from his appearance to his behavior was unlike the infuriating person I have come to know. He portrayed a calm and collected nature, albeit still mischievous as he had taken my sketchbook without my permission, yet it was so clear on his face that he didn’t have any mal intentions. What prompted him to approach me out of the blue and why did he look almost…lonely? What drew him to smile so much and so freely? It certainly couldn’t have been me; I have done everything I could to make him feel unwelcome and uncomfortable, yet he…stayed. He talked without a care in the world, almost as if he forgot I would be judging his every move and sentence. He almost looked curious of who I was, trying to make conversation in which I did not want to engage in. What was it about Yunho that made his eyes sparkle so much? Why did Yunho have so much of an influence on Mingi? Why did it have to be Mingi? Why does Yunho have to be everywhere around me even after he leaves? Does Yunho really mean that much to Mingi? Just how deep is their bond? But the most jarring thought amidst the spiraling of my mind into a place I did not wish for it to go, was a very simple one. Why do I care about Song Mingi all of a sudden? Why do all these things matter to me all of a sudden? Who is Song Mingi to me to send me into an existential crisis, into a state of nervosity, and restlessness, and so much bitterness? He’s just a guy. A guy who is very irritating, arrogant, self-centered, and a pushover. A guy who only wants attention and is superficial. A guy who forgets about you the second he’s turned his back to you. A guy who only likes you until you’re new and exciting. When you start becoming boring, what does it matter anymore? Why would he keep you around for longer? Perhaps him and Yunho have more in common than I would have thought at first.

『So used to pain that it's my remedy

Easy to hate, I gave you everything

Funny that you're the one that ran away

You left me first』

I couldn’t do this anymore, I had to stop thinking. I needed my brain to shut up, to stop torturing me more than I was already hurting. I refused to reach my breaking point again just because Mingi mentioned that Yunho was his best friend—why was I giving him so much power? Trying to snap out of it, I groaned loudly as I rubbed my eyes with the heel of my palms, sitting up straight again to try and focus for the last time on my project. I had to get this done in two days, I really couldn’t slack off anymore. So, I opened the previous tab I was reading from and scrolled up in order to start reading the article from the beginning once again, hoping that the words in it would finally stick. But despite my attempt to finally focus on the only important task at hand, the loud ping of my phone quickly pulled my attention away from it. I jumped at the loud sound and cursed silently, having forgotten to put my phone on ‘do not disturb’. My eyes snapped down to it mildly annoyed, but quickly furrowed when I realized it was a message from an unknown number. I stared at it for a few seconds, eyebrows furrowing in suspicion.

Unknown: are u coming to Outlaw tonight?

Before I could really control myself, curiosity overtook me. It must’ve been someone who knows me since they were asking about Outlaw. They must have seen me there last time.

Me: who’s this? Unknown: mingi lol

My eyebrows instantly furrowed as I stared down at the message, my stomach doing a weird flip. My fingers hovered over the screen of my phone, tempted to just quickly block his number and forget about the past ten seconds, because what the fuck? How did he even get my number? I certainly don’t remember giving it to him.

Me: wtf? how do you have my number. Unknown: wooyoung

I blinked, mind blanching for a second. Wooyoung? That made even less sense as Wooyoung and I have met just once and I have not given him my phone number. I waited for a few seconds longer, waiting for Mingi to explain further, but it never came. No small dots indicating that he was texting anything else. I groaned and looked at my pale green wall for a second, trying to collect my thoughts and not throw my phone out the window. Why did he have to have my number? Was this Mingi’s way of getting on my nerves even more? And now I had to figure out how Wooyoung got my number—oh. I tsked in disbelief, eyes zooning in on the picture of Seulgi and myself I had on display on my desk. Of course, that little bitch. Why would she ask me first before giving my phone number to a complete stranger—even if Mingi wasn’t that, I still didn’t want him to have it.

Me: whatever, i’m blocking you. Unknown: so, are you coming then? Me: no, mingi, i am not.

I rolled my eyes at Mingi’s insistency of getting an answer and blatant ignorance towards my threat of blocking him—which wasn’t as menacing as I wished for it to be. But it only took him seconds to answer, and I tried not to think about how quickly he was responding.

Unknown: ok

My eyes narrowed at his simple—and sharp—answer, fingers hovering over the keyboard to fire an insult at him if he went ahead and started leaving more messages, wanting to remind him that I was not in any shape or form curious to hear any more of his bullshit. The bitterness was quite strong in the back of my head, jealousy searing through my body—I couldn’t help it. A minute or two passed, but Mingi wasn’t typing anything else and I huffed, irritated by his antics. Why was he even asking if I would go to Outlaw? I hated it the first time—well, maybe that was a little lie—and I still hate it now, so therefore I had not one reason to go and watch him perform again. Not one particle in my body wished to hear his raspy voice accompanied by a guitar, bass, and drums. I was quite content by going to bed early tonight and forgetting about the whole day, hoping that my chest would feel less heavy in the morning and the green monster would be gone from my head. And yet, despite my better judgment, my fingers worked quickly, before my mind could even register what I was doing, and I was saving Mingi’s number. There was no desire in me to have his name in my phone under any shape, so I stopped for a second to ponder over the many options I could be calling him, such as: idiot, dumbass, jackass, prick, mr. arrogant—were sounding rather pleasing to my ears—and yet, despite the wicked grin I had on my lips, my mind seemed to settle for a simple ‘I hate him’. His number was saved in my phone without putting more thought into what I was doing, and I was placing my phone aside, attention going back to my project. Now, there was nothing in the world which could disturb me again—but then my phone rang. I groaned loudly and felt like pulling on my hair, staring at my cursed phone heatedly. I was half expecting Mingi’s number to pop-up, but thankfully it wasn’t him. That would’ve been the last straw for today, I certainly would’ve gone crazy. Instead, it was Seulgi calling and I knew she had something important to say if she wasn’t texting. I picked up, albeit with disdain.

“Hey!” She sounded cheerful, excited. Very much the opposite of my mood right now.

“Hi.” I muttered and started tapping my forefinger against my desk, staring down at the article I had opened in front of me.

“You sound like you want to kill someone.”

“And I do.” My answer made Seulgi laugh, making me sigh. And that person was Song Mingi, of course.

“What’s got your panties in a twist this time, huh?” Seulgi’s voice was playful, and unfortunately, it was only building up my irritation. She didn’t have any bad intentions, but I couldn’t handle her cheeriness and playfulness at the moment. I needed to be alone. I needed to not think and just get shit done.

“Why did you call?” I preferred not to answer her question as I asked another one, voice not snappy just tired as Seulgi remained silent for a second on the other end.

“Noir Zenith are performing at Outlaw tonight,” I knew where this was going, I just gulped realizing Mingi had asked the same thing of me just mere minutes ago, “Do you want to come with me?”

“No.” My answer was too fast and harsh, I quickly tried to mend it, “I’ve got a family thing—issue, I mean. I’m sorry, but I can’t come because of it…”

My voice got quiet as I trailed off, not particularly fond of lying to my best friend, but I really didn’t want to go out tonight and I knew if I told Seulgi the real reason she would complain and complain until I finally gave in, her tactic of coercion working just fine on me. I never stood a chance in front of her when she would start complaining and whining and bringing up all the times I have bailed on her in the past.

“Oh,” It wasn’t hard to hear the disappointment in her voice, and if I weren’t in such a bad headspace at the moment I would have felt awful, “it’s fine, I get it. But…you do know you can tell me anything, right?”

I sighed loudly, “I know, thanks Seulgi, and sorry. I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

“Don’t worry about it,” She was smiling now, adding a small chuckle too, “We all have bad days, I’ll see you at university tomorrow?”

“Most certainly.” A small smile made it onto my face and Seulgi quickly bid her goodbye as we hung up, silence enveloping me. I didn’t forget to press the ‘do not disturb’ button this time as I placed my phone on my desk, next to my laptop, and faced the article taunting me. Not finishing this project today wasn’t an option anymore, and so, I quickly dove in, the torturing thoughts finally silent somehow.

            The hours went by quickly and despite my mind struggling to focus on the task at hand, I made it. I finished the project in about four hours and it definitely gave me a little confidence boost, which I desperately needed after the emotional turmoil I was forced to face today. My mind was a mess. I was tired and I needed to sleep. I didn’t even care how early or late it was as I got into bed, forgetting to wash my face or even change into my pajamas, I just needed to lay my head down and close my eyes. And it was working well…until it wasn’t. The warmth of my thick blanket enveloped me and my head grew heavier as my muscles relaxed, the comfort of my bed bringing peace to my loud thoughts. It felt nice. To finally be able to forget everything that’s happened today, to just let go and…sleep. I really needed this; I haven’t felt this exhausted in a long time. I have never been good at dealing with my feelings, I usually pushed them away and ignored everything I felt…until they blew up in my face. Then, I would finally break and it was chaotic and messy. I knew it was the wrong coping mechanism, but I couldn’t help it. Nothing else worked, because I just couldn’t deal with the pain. I hated the overwhelming thoughts, the pressing heaviness and constant pain. I just simply didn’t want to deal with them. Drawing was a nice way of escaping my reality, but lately it didn’t help. It drew me up the wall, it was so frustrating. So many emotions had been steering hidden deep inside these past weeks, I didn’t know how to deal with them—I didn’t want to deal with them, actually. I needed them silent, gone.

And despite needing to sleep right now, eyes heavy and mind fuzzy, it wasn’t working. Nothing helped. My mind was silent, yet my ears were buzzing, whispers so quiet in the back of my head that I could barely hear them. My chest was heavy, it felt like I needed to cry, but my throat was closing in on me, refusing to let any tears to the surface. I could breathe, but at the same time I couldn’t. Turning on to my left side did nothing, but snap my eyes open. Why couldn’t I sleep? Why was this feeling returning? Why couldn’t I just rest for one fucking second?! I buried my head into my pillow and let out a silent scream, punching the soft mattress of my bed next to my head, legs trashing around as I needed to let out the creeping hysteria in my body somehow. Was I finally going crazy? Was my mother’s premonition finally blending into reality? She did randomly while watching TV, one month ago, tell me that I would soon face a challenging obstacle in my life, which would feel suffocating and relieving at the same time. Mind running per hour, I shot up in a sitting position and gaped at nothing in particular, recalling the memory of said night. But my mother said nothing else as she went back to watching TV, acting as if what she had said to me was totally normal. It wasn’t. But I was used to her quirky antics, she was a bit whimsical, but I loved her. Her intentions were always good and pure, she was a woman full of love and warmth…unlike me. Perhaps I was like my father…not that I could remember him, he’s left us while I was a little girl. We kept in touch until I turned approximately eight, after that…he never showed his face again. Something about moving to a new city and starting a new life, I couldn’t care less, he was never a pilar of support in my life. I didn’t need a man to bring me comfort, to make me feel safe. I had myself for that, and my mother—when things got too rough to handle on my own.

With a sigh, I reached over my bed and grabbed my sketchbook from my bedside table and turned on the small lamp, grabbing the pencil I had from underneath my pillow. Not one corner of my room was safe from my drawing supplies. I flipped the sketchbook open to a blank page and sighed, eyebrows lightly furrowing as I pressed the pencil against the soft paper. I didn’t have anything particular in mind as I started drawing. Maybe a small meadow with colorful flowers or a flower field, those sounded nice right now. It felt like they could fix my sour mood after today, like they would bring a little comfort to my overthinking brain at the moment. But I already knew I couldn’t control my hand when it came to drawing, and I wasn’t too surprised to find myself drawing the outline of a face. The lines were sharp and precise, darker around the brow bone and defining at the sharp and pointy nose. I added shading to the jawline before moving to the cheekbones, not making them too harsh. The sketch so far was looking like any regular face. It could turn into anything from here on. I could make it anyone I wanted it to be. For some reason my hand went to draw the lips instead of the eyes, usually those were the first thing I drew when starting a portrait. But this time, my brain focused on the dark outline of the plump lips and adding more depth as the Cupid’s Bow was deep and pointy. I licked my lips as I allowed my eyes to run over the eyeless portrait, subconsciously adding a small mole to the left side of its face, close to the jawline. I had a hunch where this was going, but I wanted to keep going—I couldn’t stop my brain from pushing me to just draw more. I allowed my pencil to run over the lines of the nose, making them sharper, lengthening it just like the person had it in real life. My hand hovered in the air for a second, reluctant to finally draw the eyes of the portrait, but I didn’t have it in me to stop right now. I always hated leaving my work unfinished—that was my excuse right now too, despite knowing who I was drawing once again. Yet not one particle in my body wished to stop right now, and I couldn’t help it as I finally drew lines sharp enough to accentuate the depth and glare in his deep eyes. The shading of them happened quickly and without even thinking, the small but dark mole sat comfortably underneath his right eye as I pressed my pencil firmly against the paper.

The breath which left my lips was sharp, and I gulped as my grip tightened around my pencil. I knew what I was doing this time, yet I didn’t stop it. Why? Why did I allow myself to draw—Mingi. His sharp and expressionless face stared back at me and I didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t mocking me, he didn’t have any twinkle in his eyes, he was just…there. On my paper, in my favorite journal-like sketchbook. And my heart was beating faster the longer I was looking at it. My stomach was twisting in a foreign way and I felt like I needed air. Fresh air. It felt like my room was closing in on me, I felt like I didn’t have enough space all of a sudden. The blanket falling on my lap suddenly felt too warm, like it was burning my body up. Without a second thought, I threw the sketchbook off from my lap, together with the blanket, and sprung out of bed, racing towards my closet. I threw it open and grabbed the first thing which came into view, a grey oversized jumper, as I stepped out of my slippers and slipped my phone into the pocket of my grey sweatpants, headed for my closed door. My throat was squeezing itself and it was a little hard to breathe as I frantically moved down the stairs, desperate for fresh air at this point. The light was on in the kitchen and I realized it wasn’t even ten pm yet as my mother was tinkering around, listening to some jazz music. I must’ve been loud as I almost crashed into the wall, struggling to put on my sneakers.

“Honey?” I heard my mother’s voice coming from behind me as I turned to look at her. Her ginger hair was a mess as her curls stuck out in all directions, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Everything alright?”

I nodded, fearing what my voice would sound like as I quickly wore the jumper in my hands, “Are you going out? It’s a little late…”

I hummed, licking my lips nervously, hand reaching for the doorknob, “I won’t take long, I promise.”

“Call me if you need me.” My mother had an understanding look on her face, it made my lips tremble, “I’ll pick you up.”

“Didn’t you drink?” My voice was slightly shaking as my eyes went to the wine glass she was holding in her right hand. My mother glanced down at it as if she had forgotten about it and quickly pushed it behind herself.

“We could always ride my electric scooter; I haven’t used it in quite a while.” My mother giggled at her own suggestion and I couldn’t help but let out an amused chuckle, the tightness in my throat lessening a little bit. How badly I wished to pour my heart out to her, to let my feelings finally loose, but I couldn’t. That would mean having to face what I was feeling. That would mean everything was real and not just made up by my useless brain.

“I’ll be home in an hour, don’t worry.” My mother just hummed as she watched me leave as I took my keys and closed the door carefully behind myself. The crisp air of the evening was a harsh wake-up call that I should’ve worn a jacket as well, but I didn’t have it in me to walk back inside my warm house. I couldn’t. I needed to walk. I needed to clear my mind. I had to get rid of this awful feeling in my chest. And so that’s just what I did, I walked. I took off towards nowhere particular as my feet carried me down the sidewalk, the streets illuminated by the lampposts, creating just enough light, but not too much. A few cars passed by then and now, the neighborhood relatively quiet at this hour of the evening. The cold air was biting at my cheeks and I buried my hands in my pockets, taking a deep breath before releasing it slowly. It felt nice as the cold air traveled through my throat, deep down into my lungs. It was refreshing, it was just what I needed. As I took a left turn, I left my neighborhood and realized I was headed towards the city center, more people on the road now as it was the main one. Groups of teenagers passed by me and I shivered at the sudden cold breeze. I looked around and watched as it picked up and blew the branches of the trees apart, more leaves falling to the ground, creating a blanket of orange and burgundy underneath our feet. The leaves crunched under my shoes and I felt myself smiling as I kicked into a smaller pile gathered up on the sidewalk by the wind, memories of my childhood fresh in my mind. My mother would always gather the leaves in our small backyard and then she’d take me outside and we’d play around for hours in the leaves, giggling and laughing as we’d pretend that I was a princess and she was the leaves monster trying to kidnap me from my kingdom. Despite my mother struggling at times, my childhood never lacked anything, and it was filled with many happy memories. Sometimes I wondered what changed that I turned into such a moody and sour person. There were remnants of my old self when I was with Seulgi or with my mother, but I was pretty bad at opening up to strangers, at letting others in…especially males. I couldn’t help but think they had other motives and were only waiting for the right time to fuck me over, to abandon me. My attention was brought to a couple as the girl screeched and ran past me, the boy chasing after her while holding something in his hands, giggling loudly and calling out her name. I couldn’t help but glance after them, the green monster back in my head, as the guy caught up with her and tackled her into a hug despite the girl’s loud complaints. I have realized, the guy was carrying dirt in his hands and the girl’s cheeks were already smudged with it, probably. My stomach clenched and it got harder to gulp as I tore my eyes off them, trying to take a deep breath, trying to push down the memories threatening to resurface.

But I couldn’t help it as Yunho made it to the forefront of my mind, our many dates stored away in a little treasure chest in my heart. We used to go on so many dates, Yunho loved trying out new things and visiting new places. Every second weekend he planned something new, he surprised me with something. I thought I was the luckiest girl on Earth. I thought I would never find anyone else who could love me and cherish me as much as Yunho—and perhaps I really never would. Because Yunho was special, because he made you feel like you were the only one in the whole world he could see, he could love. A small part of me still wished he loved me at some point. Of course, it did, I was so hopelessly in love with him once that everything was about him. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t live without him. He was the only thing I could think about, I could talk about. Everyone told us how well we matched; how perfect we were for each other. The both of us always smiling, always so nice to others. Before getting abandoned by Yunho, I was—I wasn’t like this. I smiled, I laughed, and I joked around a lot. I was happy and I loved life, I loved everything around me and I had this urge to discover everything life had to offer me. I couldn’t stay put in one place for too long and I always had everything planned out, each step of mine—my life next to Yunho. The promises he made were still fresh in my mind, I could still remember them despite being it a long time ago—but perhaps it wasn’t long enough, I have suddenly come to the realization of it. It was hard to breathe again as my favorite moment with Yunho was suddenly too fresh in my mind, too easy to recall. We had gone to a movie he really wished to watch, something about a girl who had to pretend she was a boy in order to make it onto the university’s football team to get revenge on her ex, it was actually a re-run as the movie had come out a long time ago, but Yunho loved it and he really wanted to watch it at the cinema. Of course I went with him, I wanted to see the movie too because Yunho loved it. And what Yunho loved, I also did. It was an easy watch, lighthearted and cheesy and predictable, it didn’t surprise me that it was one of Yunho’s favorites. But once the movie was over Yunho wanted to get ice cream, and as someone who loves ice cream—mint choco is the best flavor, fight me—I was eager to go with Yunho. But our peace of mind didn’t last for long as it started raining cats and dogs in no time, forcing us to take shelter somewhere—except that we didn’t. Yunho pulled me out into the pouring rain and he made us dance, he acted out cheesy scenes from Dirty Dancing, raising me up and flipping me around clumsily, almost dropping me in the process not even once, making me shriek and clutch onto him for dear life. I have never laughed more in my life than that night and I have never felt more loved that in that moment. Yunho’s eyes were shining with so much warmth and happiness, it was also the first time he said the words. ‘I love you.’ I couldn’t tell whether it was the rain or happy tears on my cheeks, but the sudden clenching of my heart and overwhelming feeling in my chest made me flung my body against his, holding onto Yunho’s tall frame like my life depended on it. And in that moment, I knew—I knew that I also loved him. But I couldn’t say it, not yet, not when everything felt like it was too much, so instead, I pressed my lips against his pouty ones and smiled as Yunho started giggling, only to pick me up and twirl me around in excitement before asking me to hop on his back, only for him to take off running towards his house. It was my favorite memory of us, for various reasons, but perhaps the main one was because Yunho was so sincere in that moment. Because I couldn’t hear any doubt in his words like the other times he said that he loved me.

『Straight coats and empty cabinets

Ashes from all the mess you left

New lease without you

I confess that I'm happy you're gone』

I came to a stop as my phone buzzed in my pocket, mind hazy as I tried to shake off the memory which felt so alive in my head. I could almost see it playing out in front of myself. If I reached my hand out, I could almost touch Yunho—but he wasn’t here—and I was allowing myself once again to live in the past, a very bad habit of mine. I unlocked my phone after I crossed the road, the sidewalk littered with various shops, most of them already closed as it was almost ten now. I had been walking for twenty minutes without even realizing it. Looking down at my phone, I realized Instagram had sent me a notification that Seulgi posted a story after a while. She was probably at Outlaw still, watching Noir Zenith perform. I pressed on her story and it opened to show a close-up video of the three boys performing, the camera focusing on Wooyoung for a few seconds longer before it was moved away, zooming in on playfully on Mingi. I had the volume down, I couldn’t hear what he was singing, but his eyebrows were furrowed as he was leaning forward, mouth moving in a fast way as his eyes were half-closed, veins protruding on his neck, expression almost like he was angry, almost like feelings were overwhelming him as he held the microphone in his left hand tightly. My eyebrows slightly furrowed, but I quickly pushed any thought of him away as I realized he was slightly…wet? His white shirt, the top buttons unbuttoned until they reached his chest stuck to his body and had turned almost see-through, but it didn’t seem like it bothered Mingi as he continued on performing. Heavy chains lay against the base of his throat and a blue sheer sunglass was sitting on his tall nose, almost sliding off of it as he was bobbing his head furiously to the music, his bass abandoned somewhere. As my eyes focused on the huge bracelet on his right hand and the blue and white scarf wrapped around his left wrist, both hands decorated with thick silver-colored rings, the video cut off. I remained unblinking for a second, eyebrows twitching as I realized Seulgi had posted the video not even half an hour ago. So…the band was still performing and…Mingi was looking like that. Suddenly I was glad I wasn’t there to witness him being all indecent and acting like a—something. I most certainly wouldn’t hear the endless praises if I were there and the constant screaming of his baboons—perhaps calling them his fangirls would sound nicer, but I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction—and with my current mood, that was the last thing I wanted to see and hear. Mingi was detestable and I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of going to any of his other performances, finding them useless as I wasn’t even into their music. I started walking again, aware that the wind had picked up more, rustling the branches and leaves harsher, making me shiver in my underdressed state, reminding me that I should head home now. I said I wouldn’t stay out for too long, my thoughts seemed to have cleared just a little bit, besides, the cold air was enough to knock me out once I got to lay in my warm and comfortable bed.

『I don't care enough to miss you

After all the shit we've been through

My heart's comatose, comatose

I don't care enough to miss you

After all the shit we've been through

My heart's comatose, comatose』

However, the second I wanted to exit the app and put my phone away, a new story suddenly appeared in Seulgi’s spot and I gulped realizing who it was. Yunho’s happy and smiling face was taunting me in his profile picture, and before I could control myself, I pressed the icon, opening his story. The username Yuyu followed by a sunflower flashed for a second on the screen and then—and then everything around me stopped. There was no wind, there was no sound of cars passing by or people talking as they walked by me. It wasn’t cold anymore. My lungs failed me once again, but my mind went silent. Completely silent. There was a rumble in the distance, but I couldn’t say what it was. A girl, much smaller than him—and a lot cuter than myself—was laughing in the boomerang Yunho had posted, her black hair falling around her shoulders nicely, the white coat barely hiding the short lavender colored dress she was wearing. And Yunho—he looked so happy, he looked—whole. His face had gotten fuller, yet features sharper since the last time I had seen him. I have forgotten that I was still following him on Instagram. He had his arm around the girl’s shoulder and was actively pulling her into his side as he was smiling brightly too, his protruding front teeth showing as he had his eyes on the girl only. He had tagged her too and I was clicking on her name fast, before even thinking about what I was doing. Her profile was public and she had many posts. Most of herself, but there were some of the places she’s traveled to as well. But her most recent post—was with Yunho. The two sitting on a bench, then a selfie, and then a picture of the place they had been at, with the caption of: ‘Luckiest girl in the world!’ I gulped and closed the app, taking a deep breath, realizing that I had started shaking.

『You wasted all my fucking time

Were never really in my life

You were further than I could imagine

I love you, but fuck you』

Why did my legs feel like jelly all of a sudden? Why did the heaviness in my chest get even worse? Why was I reacting like this? It made no sense. Yunho broke up with me three years ago and I was over him. He hurt me more than anyone has before, but I was over him. I have let go; I have released the feelings I have felt for him. But then why did it bother me so much that he found happiness with someone else? Why did it leave a bitter taste in my mouth? Suddenly why was the green monster back and making me clutch my phone tightly in my hand? If he was able to find someone, to be happy again, why wasn’t I doing the same thing? Why was I incapable of loving? Of being loved? Of opening up and letting in new people? Why was I forcing myself to wallow in my own misery? Why was I punishing myself by constantly living in the past? What more could I want? Why did I still wish for Yunho to return and apologize for everything he’s done, for the gap he’s left in my heart? For the turmoil he’s caused in my head, for the ache that never really went away with his departure from my life? And it hit me lick a wall of bricks, that something was hitting my flaming cheeks. Another rumble, and I realized it was thunder. Head tilting back, I realized it was raining—pouring. Washing away the tears which were making my eyes burn. When did it start raining? Why did everything hurt so much? I couldn’t help the sudden sob which wracked my body as I put my phone in my pocket as a futile attempt to keep it dry as my clothes were getting drenched the longer I stood unmoving on the sidewalk. But my feet felt heavy, rendering me frozen to the spot. Nobody was outside anymore. I was alone. Just as always. No matter how many people cared for me, I was still alone in hurting, in dealing with the mess I was. And it hurt. It made me cry harder as I pressed a hand against my mouth, trying to muffle my pathetic sobs. But it felt good—so good to finally let it all out, to just finally allow the misery to come to the surface, to acknowledge that I couldn’t deal with these feelings anymore. My chest hurt, my heart ached, my throat was getting more and more restricting, lungs burning for air, but I couldn’t fully breathe, gasping for air caused by my violent sobs. But the wind was picking up again and my body started shivering, and I realized I couldn’t stand on the sidewalk anymore bawling my eyes out as I got drenched in rain.

So, I looked around and found a place open not too far up ahead and took off running towards it, trying to get the strands of hair out of my eyes as they stuck to my skin. The diner was small and still open, the big windows showed nobody inside besides the girl behind the counter. I didn’t consider the way I looked as I threw the door open and stepped inside, alerting the girl as the doorbell chimed. She looked up and for a second we stared at each other, her eyes widening as her eyes wandered all over my body, making me sniff. At least I wasn’t sobbing anymore, just heaving for air. I must’ve looked horrible as I took off towards a table in the back, closer to the restrooms, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel embarrassed over my appearance. I fell against the cushion of the bench and tried to regulate my breathing, biting my lower lip as I realized my eyes were burning and my skin was ice cold. I couldn’t believe I was stupid enough to stand out in the rain, when it was so cold. I would most definitely catch a cold now and that was the last thing I needed right now, but it was due to my own stupidity. I wiped my face with my hands, which were slightly shaking, as the girl from the counter came over.

“Uh,” She shuffled around awkwardly as I looked at her, “Can I bring you anything? Or uh, help with anything?”

A slap in the face to wake me up to reality would possibly be the biggest help she could be offering right now—but I thankfully didn’t say to her. She already looked uncomfortable by not knowing how to react to my current state. I sniffed and went to reach for my wallet before I would look at the menu, I had no idea how much money I had on me. But I quickly realized I had only grabbed my phone before leaving, sitting inside a diner never being in the plan. So instead I went to check on my phone if I had any money on my card, but my phone wasn’t working. Nothing. No matter how much I pressed the button to start it, it didn’t work. Fuck, I forgot to charge it before stepping outside.

“Uh,” Now I felt embarrassed as I averted my eyes from the girl, “I don’t have any money.”

“Oh,” She sounded surprised, “Well, then…I mean, I don’t want to sound rude, but uh—I will have to ask you to leave, really, I have nothing against you, it’s just that—”

“Don’t worry,” I forced myself to smile as I looked up at her, her cheeks red from embarrassment of having to kick me out, “I get it. May I use the restroom before I leave?”

“Sure, of course!” The girl almost exclaimed as she pointed towards the little hallway which led to the restrooms, “But we’ll be closing in about fifteen minutes, so don’t stay inside for too long.”

“Yeah, I’ll just patch myself up a bit and then go on my way.” I muttered as the girl nodded silently and walked back to the counter while carefully watching me, making me roll my eyes. Okay, I might have been looking like a mess, but I wasn’t a walking bomb—no need for her careful gaze on me. It just made my blood boil as I tried not to stomp while I went inside the restroom, glad that I was alone inside. It was colder in here compared to the diner and I shivered as I realized the window was open. I headed towards the sink, eager to warm up my hands with a little warm water, but I gasped once I saw my reflections in the mirror. Jesus Christ, I looked horrible, no wonder the girl was looking at me like that and asking me to leave—even if the reason was me not having money on me. My hair stuck to my face and looked matted in certain spots. My cheeks were completely flushed with the tip of my nose red as well, and I had dark streaks running down underneath my eyes. I forgot to take off my eyeliner and mascara before going to bed and since they weren’t waterproof—here I was, looking like a character straight out of a fucking horror movie. I chuckled as I turned on the faucet and instantly sighed at the feeling of warm water against my hands, warming my freezing limbs a bit. I quickly gathered water in my palms and splashed it against my cheeks, warming them up as well, sighing in content. I was still shivering, my toes frozen, but this was helping.

『I don't care enough to miss you

After all the shit we've been through

My heart's comatose, comatose』

I let the warm water run as I ran my fingers through my hair, easing the knots in them and trying to make it look presentable as I basically brushed the wet strands back on my head, my hair already curling naturally. The next step was to get rid of the mascara and eyeliner streaks underneath my eyes and even cheek, so I quickly washed them off before turning the faucet off and grabbing some dry towel paper from the holder, drying off my face and hands. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, realizing that my chest felt so much lighter, there was nothing squeezing against my throat anymore.

“You’re fine,” I whispered to myself, gulping, “Fuck, you’ve got this, you’re okay, Y/N, you are okay. You’ve been pushing your feelings away for too long, of course they blew up in your face, you stupid bitch. I really have to stop doing this to myself, ugh—”

I rolled my eyes as I threw the used towel paper in the trash bin and then looked back at myself in the mirror, narrowing my eyes at myself and pointing a finger threateningly at my reflection, “Stop being a sappy bitch, alright? You’re better than this. Yunho’s got his shit together, why can’t you do the same, huh? Just go out there and find a fucking boyfriend, it’s not that hard—wait, no, actually don’t do that! I don’t need no man, got it? Got it.”

I nodded once firmly, a small grin forcing itself onto my lips, making me scoff at myself—sure, of course, bring Yunho into your peptalk, Y/N, very smart—but I just couldn’t help it. At least I was feeling better now, almost laughing at myself at how stupid I was as I stepped back and pulled my shoulders back, nodding at myself encouragingly. I got this! But now I had to run home in the pouring rain, that thought alone was enough to make me cry again, but I willed myself to stop. No more crying. No more sobbing—especially not because of the pouring rain. It was my mistake that I didn’t check the weather or bring an umbrella. I should’ve just gone to bed when I planned to, damn these stupid thoughts. With a last glance at myself, I decided that I was ready to leave the restroom and head home, my mother probably worried sick about me at this point since my phone wasn’t working either. I walked up to the door and grabbed the doorknob firmly, yanking it open a little bit too enthusiastically, but as I went to step outside, the male’s restroom door right across mine opened as well—and I paused, surprised.

Song Mingi was staring back at me just as surprised as I was.

❱❱ Next chapter

[villainbait]

Sins of the Shrine - Chapter One

Pairing: Heian!Sukuna x Reader

Rating: R

Word count: 3.4k

AO3 LINK

Chapter Warnings: heian period brutality, light body horror, thriller, curses do exist, sexual themes, eventually, torture, threats, graphic depictions of blood, ryomen sukuna is his own warning, pre-transformation sukuna, potential manga spoilers

Summary:

The other miko had whispered of a shrine that separated the clearing of your own but you had forgotten their warning. It was very important, but you had forgotten it. A hushed warning about a demon that dwelled there, his cursed energy so thick it could choke you to death just by being in his presence- that's if you survived long enough for that to be your fate. Whether you come as a lover or an executioner, I am ready to receive you. -Agustin Gomez-Arcos

prologue ↠ i. ↠ ii. ↠

Chapter One: The Unpolished Jewel

"there is no story where no one was sacrificed."

The first call of your name goes unheard. The second call is ignored. The third time your name is shouted loud enough to wake the dead and it is accompanied by the sound of angry footsteps and a sliding door that rattles along the rudimentary track as it’s slammed open. It makes you jump and you whine softly when your concentration is interrupted, desperate to finish these last two lines of poetry. A poem that you knew very well if it wasn’t perfect would ensure the disappointment of your father and the ridicule of your siblings. It doesn’t matter to your guardian as she berates you for not answering her and you can’t help but sigh, propping your cheek on one hand and tuning her out.

That’s right, you were graced – cursed, really – with an elder sister and a younger brother. There were other, less legitimate children that you had heard the servants whisper about, too. Your father often wasn’t kind to the household, so they were more than happy to gossip; even in your presence. Not that you minded really, since it was rare you were bothered by your father, let alone your siblings. Sometimes it was the only way you even knew how they were doing, given how scarce your interactions with them were. The estate was expansive and when your mother had died and father remarried someone closer to your age than his you had been banished to the outer living spaces. 

It was something you were quite used to, even before your mother died trying to give him a boy. Of course, girls were the preferred sex and the celebrations were grand when one was born, but your father desired someone to take over the clan when he passed. While you wanted for nothing since your father supplied you a generous allowance for whatever you needed and more than you desired. That was as far as his filial duty extended to you, since your sister was the prize of the family. Often as a child you were left on your own, only the servants or your own wit to help you survive and learn how to stumble through this brutal, unforgiving world. Most days you thought it was a blessing, excused from having to perform the courtly rituals that you had heard your sister incessantly complain about. 

Some days, though, it was unbearably lonely. 

As a child, you longed for friends. Sometimes the servants would bring their own children along, one or two of them a half-sibling of sorts to you; but they never stayed long. Until one day when you were playing on the edge of the property, far too close to the treeline. Your hands covered in dirt, you were approached by two dogs. A normal child would’ve been startled to have two large, spirit beings approach them; but you were not normal. You had been able to see curses since you were a toddler and these beings didn’t look near as frightening as the creatures that hovered on the edge of your home. They didn’t dare come closer, since the cursed energy emanating from your family’s land was intimidating enough to keep them at a distance. 

Yet these dogs were unfazed and unafraid, loping up to you with tongues and tails wagging. They were friendly and you returned the same, spending your entire day entertaining one another until you were called back into the house for dinner. You wave goodbye to your new friends but they don’t listen, beginning to follow you. 

“You can’t!” You cry softly, trying to shoo them away. “I’ll get into trouble if you come with me.” 

They didn’t budge, still sitting there expectantly as if waiting for something. You put your hands on your hips and huff, trying to think of a way you could take them home with you. It was almost certain that your guardian would take them away and have them disposed of if she saw them, since she was deathly afraid of all animals; but especially dogs. They sit and cock their heads to the side and you sigh a child’s sigh of exaggerated exasperation. “I wish you could stay with me, I really do, but you can’t.” 

Something on the heels of that wish made the tips of your fingertips tingle sharply and you clenched your little fists to try to stop the weird sensation. The dogs stood before taking a running start and diving into your waning shadow cast by the setting sun, disappearing completely. That did startle you and you panicked, turning in circles as you tried to figure out what had happened. The servant yelling for you grew more frantic in her calls and you hurried home to assuage her worry, but didn’t dare tell her of your own worry. You weren’t even sure what had happened yourself, but ever since you swore your shadow had felt heavier somehow.

At the time you had no idea, but that was the day your cursed technique manifested. 

After that and when no one was around, you’d gently call the two dogs from your shadow to keep you company when you felt lonely. The two had become your constant companions and they were your sole comfort that you hid from everyone, too afraid of what might happen if others found out. Not only that, but you quickly found out they sustained themselves on cursed energy, so they were expert helpers in dispatching the creepy cursed spirits that strayed too close to your living quarters.

The rest of your childhood passes in mostly a blur of the same thing day after day, but it all comes to a screeching halt on the day you reach maturity. You should’ve seen this coming as you were not your fated baby brother whose future as heir to your family’s dynasty was already foretold. Neither were you your eldest sister who, if rumor was to be believed, was set to marry a rich man twice her age (you were eternally grateful to be spared that fate). No, you were but the neglected middle child and thus it shouldn’t have been surprising when your father arrived in a whirlwind, only to announce your sudden and indefinite departure to a shrine you had never heard the name of before leaving just as abruptly. 

Yet somehow, you sat there in muted shock as the servants assigned to you tittered and worried over what was going to happen to them when you left. You were about to undergo the biggest, most frightening change of your life and they only worried about themselves. Nevertheless, you were packed up without further delay and undertook the arduous journey closer to the capital of Kyoto. Thankfully it was mostly uneventful save your horse throwing a shoe at one point and you arrived at the shrine safely.

The first thing you noticed upon arrival was that the shrine itself, while well-maintained, was simplistic in design. Three large, oblong buildings were surrounded by towering, droopy trees that seemed to diminish their overall presence. It was only after you alighted from your horse that you realized how hushed and muted the other miko scurrying around distracted with their duties were. It doesn’t take long before you realize you’re having a bit of trouble breathing from the rancid energy swirling around the grounds, but it was too late to turn back as your escorts were already long gone by the time you even considered the option. With a sigh, you hike your makeshift bag higher on your shoulder and approach a group of three miko dressed just like you. 

They don’t look up from their sweeping of the stone entryway and you clear your throat softly to get their attention. Simultaneously they all stop working to look up at you and you’re struck by how haggard they appear and you can’t help but wonder what your father was thinking in sending you here. Perhaps he wasn’t thinking of your well-being at all, which would be quite typical of him. 

“Uhm, hello.” You offer a traditional greeting and they return it automatically to which elicits a warm smile from you. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all. “I’ve just arrived, I don’t know if you received word of my arrival…” You trailed off when you glimpse their worried expressions and you stand there awkwardly until one of them nods and in a quiet monotone says, “Follow me, I’ll show you where to go.” 

After a quick, dizzying tour around the shrine you’re taken to meet the priests. They come out of the shrine itself and you offer proper greetings. Something about them makes you uneasy and their eyes linger a little too long for your comfort, but you shake it off as simply not being accustomed to being scrutinized by strangers. Perhaps they were just curious about your cursed technique since they had been given prior notice that you were a shaman. One of the reasons you were sent to this shrine specifically was because it was comprised of others who could wield cursed techniques of their own. Of course, your father had no idea what your cursed technique was, but you knew that in his arrogance he would assume that no child of his would be bereft of such power. 

It’s only later, when you’re tucked under your musty bed  in the common room with the other girls that you hear a few of them whispering to each other. You can hear them quite clearly but wished to the gods you couldn’t since every sentence they mutter leaves you colder than the last. “She won’t last.” “They’ll eat her alive.” “That’s if she’s lucky.” “Her parents must hate her.” You pull the paltry bed covering over your head to block out their comments and try not to think about how much you already miss your actual bed and home, shivering until you finally fall into a fitful sleep. 

Over the next couple of days, you quickly realize the cursed energy that has gathered is vaguely suffocating and ever present. Not only that, but you had the distinct feeling you were being watched, that something had its eyes on you; waiting. When you ventured outside to do your own shared chores and you understood why those around you were so worried. Maybe this was why the other miko were so on edge every time you saw them scurrying around to do their daily tasks before nightfall, but you had to admit to curiosity over what this energy was that seemed so pervasive around the shrine. It was cursed energy that belonged to someone, that much you could discern. <i>Was it one of the priests?</i> You had tried to ask once, but the group of girls had pretended not to hear you and the broom handle felt abrasive in your grip when you tried not to take it personally. 

A week passes quickly and you’ve barely just settled into a routine when you’re approached by one of the senior girls that doled out the chores every morning. She was flanked by two other girls that clung closer to her than necessary, all three of them wearing pinched smiles. It was on the tip of your tongue to ask what was wrong when she spoke in a quick, hushed tone. 

“You have been tasked with the patrol tonight.” You gave the three of them a genuinely baffled look. “What does that mean?” As you soon found out, it meant that you were going to be responsible for walking the grounds and dispelling the weaker cursed spirits that seem to crop up like bugs. The expressions on the girls’ faces linger in the back of your mind and you couldn’t help but wonder why they looked so unhappy. Was it because this was a test? You did come from one of the most powerful jujutsu clans and this temple was renowned for refining noble young ladies of considerable shamanistic power, and you hoped you wouldn’t disappoint them.

Your worry was nothing when that very night you almost felt like you were finally doing something useful as you exorcised the creepy little things that tried to sneak their way into the cracks of the outbuildings. You say almost because no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t summon your canine companions. 

It wasn’t for lack of trying, going so far as to call out to them like you would any other beloved pet. You even attempted to entice them from your shadow with the generous shaking of a juicy cut up corpse of a cursed spirit to no avail. With a frustrated sigh of resignation, you used the other tools and tricks you had at your disposal instead; thankful that you weren’t at least reliant on those fickle dogs of yours. 

The first few weeks of this go without trouble and you settle into an uncomfortable but familiar routine, but one night it’s almost as if even the very air itself hesitated when you stepped onto the dewy lawn to begin your nightly vigil. You were so close to finishing your first loop around the dimly lit grounds when you heard it and froze. The faint sound of whimpering is unmistakable and you tip your head to the side as you try to pinpoint the direction from where it came. The pervasive cursed energy dulled your other senses considerably and despite how much you had tried to become accustomed to it, it was still difficult to concentrate. Inching cautiously towards the noise, the culprit becomes clear through the darkened copse of trees in front of you and you can vaguely make out the diminutive body of a child. With a quiet gasp you rush over to it without thinking, not realizing for a single moment it could be a trap- 

The curse swipes out with a screaming, high-pitched wail and you scramble back with your hands over your ears only to barely miss getting sliced open with those sinuous, wicked claws attached to one of its hands. The other flings the small child against the tree so hard you hear the wet cracking and know it's dead on impact, but you don’t have time to mourn a life taken too soon. It’s already found new prey in the form of you and you realize with growing horror it’s cut off any retreat you may have had back to the safety of the shrine. It’s so much stronger than the weak little curses you’re used to dealing with as you frantically try to get your bearings; your ears still ringing. In desperation you call for your dogs again, your voice loud as you hope maybe someone from the shrine will hear you but you know it’s useless. You’d be dead before anyone could help you and your dogs don’t seem to care if you die either; refusing to come out.

So you do the only thing you can think of and run, darting into the utter blackness of the forest. 

Cursed energy swirls around you and it is stifling, continually making it difficult to breathe as you’re chased through the woods. The crashing of tree branches as their brittle bark bounces off one another before falling onto the forest floor is deafening behind you. You can’t tell if it’s the pervasive suffocation you’ve grown accustomed to in the past few weeks that linger in the area or if it’s emanating from the monstrous creature on your heels. 

A glint of white catches your attention from the corner of your eye but you can’t look – won’t look –  trusting that whatever it is in the darkness is uninterested in you this night; your legs pumping faster as you race towards the unknown. As you move deeper into the forest, the malevolent energy grows even more oppressive and you’re desperately taking in air with every flagging step, already starting to get dizzy. The other miko had whispered of a shrine on the other side of the wilderness that separated the clearing of your own shrine, but your hope was wearing thin until you saw the break in the trees. 

A large, looming torii arches above the tree tops and even in the darkness you can make out the warm illumination of braziers flanking the ornate entrance to the shrine. For the life of you, you could not remember who that shrine belonged to, but in this moment you didn’t care. The quiet, lighthearted promise you make to yourself that whatever deity haunted it would be the new god you prayed to if you survived tonight goes unspoken in face of the prevailing danger in the darkness.

You stumble through the arch and the energy here is unbearably thick, but you persevere despite the obvious warning to stay away; the spirit already crashing through the same split in the trees you had. The mournful warbling as it wails raises the hair on the back of your neck and you can feel its heavy footfalls reverberate through the ground as it races into the clearing. Stupidly, you risk a glance over your shoulder and trip – tumbling to the ground with a cry of surprise; landing in an unceremonious heap.

Dirt clings under your nails as you claw at the ground for purchase, scrambling only to slip and fall again. The thunderous sound of footsteps behind you is close, too close, and you whip around to face your death head on. You would not die running away and raise your hands in the mimicry of a gesture as the spirit scurries lopsidedly towards you; its grotesque tongues lolling lazily out of its mouth. The drool from those tongues hit the ground with hisses and stings as it corrodes the very earth under its feet. You shudder in revulsion and fear, shrinking back at the rancid smell of it when it reaches your nose. In a last desperate attempt, you make the peculiar gesture that you had seen only once when it came to you in a dream; feeling utterly silly if this is how you die but pinning every hope on it being a sign of salvation instead. 

Sweat trickles down your spine and you can smell the rot of the creature as it reaches you and makes you want to vomit so you hold your breath and pray fervently to the god of this shrine. 

The demon dogs burst suddenly from your shadow, all snarls and sharp teeth. They snatch the curse mere inches away from your face in their jaws and they go flying across the temple grounds in a tangled, violent heap. The distinct sound of bone and sinew snapping is loud in the silence, only punctuated by your heaving breaths as you lay there and stare up at the sky with wide, unblinking eyes as the thought etches itself into your brain. 

You almost died.

You’re out of breath and you flop your trembling arms and legs outward to rest your already aching muscles, perversely mimicking a starfish as you try to calm down. At least it would’ve been a beautiful day to die, the inky darkness of the sky scattered with thousands of brilliant little stars; the moon casting a cool, luminous glow you hadn’t been able to appreciate under the thick canopy of trees. The relief of your survival and the beauty of the night made you feel poetic somehow, and you briefly mourned that you didn’t have anything to write with so you could capture these fleeting emotions. 

The dogs are still noisily munching on the curse somewhere vaguely to your left when that moonlight view is blocked by a figure swathed in a simple kimono, and you find yourself peering up at a distinct double set of crimson eyes that are staring back down at you impassively. What air in your lungs you had painstakingly gathered wooshes out of you with one breath and the mikos’ dire warnings all come crashing over you all at once. 

It had taken you but a moment, but even without the mikos’ rumor-mongering you would have immediately recognized the figure above you from the painting scrolls and fear settles like a cold rock in the pit of your stomach. 

You find yourself staring up at Ryomen Sukuna himself and realize you are going to die tonight.

A/N: Thank you for reading chapter one! I headcanon that cursed energy during the Heian period was more like wild fae magic in that it was unruly and manifested cursed techniques in different ways than the established inherited techniques we see today. A lot of early cursed techniques pull from Japanese History and a lot of it does deal in unpredictable, wild magic. The legends and myths the original ten shadows technique is based on is why I chose to write it this way. ♥

prologue ↠ i. ↠ ii.

[stanleypinesgf]

Falling for Mystery - Chapter Seven

Falling for Mystery Masterlist Warnings: mentions of abusive ex, some injuries and blood mentioned but not described in depth, more angst than i was aiming for my loves but i'll be worth it i promise! Please note: this is a slow burn fic with eventual smut and mature themes, 18+ only and please check warnings at the start of chapters! ALSO idk how long I'll maintain a daily posting schedule as I have a 9-5 too LOL but will try my best!! TYSM for all the support so far!!

w/c: 2,092

The darkness enveloped me like a thick fog, swallowing the last remnants of consciousness. The panic that once clawed at my throat faded into a haze, the roar of whatever creature lurked in the woods replaced by an eerie silence.

“Hey, babe. Miss me?”

I blinked, the world around me slowly shifting into focus. I was standing in the middle of our apartment, back in Portland. The familiarity was unnerving, and his smile was almost animalistic, leering down at me. He had a knack for making me feel so small, insignificant.

“What... why are you here?” I asked, trying to steady my voice to appear more confident, when in reality, I was anything but. Dread crept in, taking hold.

He stepped closer, a glimmer of that familiar charm in his eyes. “I just wanted to see you, to tell you how sorry I am, babe. You know I love you, right?”

“Jake, if you loved me, then it would never have come to this. I left because I was afraid of you!” I reminded him, trying to hold onto the anger that had once protected me from him.

“You know we could still have something special, don’t you? Just give it a chance.”

“No,” I said firmly, shaking my head as I stepped back. “I can’t do this. Not again.”

“Why not?” His expression shifted, desperation creeping into his voice. “I can change, I promise. I was stupid. I didn’t mean any of it.”

“You’re kidding?” I scoffed, the anger bubbling in my veins. “You turned my friends against me; even some of my own family believed what you said about me! You hit me, Jake, over and over. The worst part is, I thought you were justified in your actions… I blamed myself!”

His gaze hardened, the charming facade slipping just enough for me to see the truth beneath. “I made mistakes, but so did you. Always getting coffee with those guys you work with for a start. But I know we can fix it. You know we were good together.”

I tried to find the words to respond, but none came. Was I really at fault for this? Maybe I did drive him to do and say all those things after all. Everyone else seemed to think he was a great guy, people had a hard time believing me when I told them what a monster he had become.

“You think Stan’s any different? He’s never gonna put up with you like I did! I was good to you!” The venom in his words tore through me.

In the distance, I could hear someone calling my name, footsteps pounding towards me. I looked around frantically, trying to find the source of the voice, but before I could, the world around me began to fade, replaced by an icy chill.

I felt myself being dragged into the depths of a dark abyss, Jake’s voice lingering, taunting me as I struggled to break free.

And then, just as quickly, I was jolted awake by two firm hands on my shoulders. I recognised the familiar, gruff voice. The fog of the dream clung to me, and as I blinked, it began to fade, revealing the sharp edges of reality.

“There you are!” Stan’s voice cut through the haze of fear. He was panting slightly, his face a mix of relief and anger. "What the hell were you thinking? Going into the woods like that?”

I couldn’t answer, not yet. My lungs burned, and my legs were weak. Before I could try to stand, strong arms lifted me from the forest floor. Stan pulled me into his chest, the scent of pine and old leather, mixed with something uniquely his, grounding me in the moment.

“We’ve got to get out of here.” His tone was urgent yet somewhat calm.

“I should be able to walk... you can—” I started, but Stan interrupted.

“You’re joking? I’m not letting that thing get any closer to you!” He huffed, jogging towards the shack as I clung to his broad shoulders.

The rest of the journey was almost silent, dipping in and out of consciousness as the guilt swallowing me whole. I had just made Stan risk his life for me; how could I be so selfish? What I had done was reckless and dangerous.

I was pulled from my thoughts by the creaking of floorboards on the porch of the Shack, relief starting to wash over me. We were home. Stan fumbled for his keys to lock the door behind us, his eyes scanning the tree line, ensuring that... thing was out of sight. But there was more than just concern etched into his features; a flicker of vulnerability danced in his gaze, as if he was trying to mask his own fears. I could see him wrestling with the weight of responsibility, his jaw clenched tight. Did he blame himself for not being out here with me? For not being able to protect me? Each time he glanced my way, a mixture of determination and uncertainty filled his expression, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was as scared as I was about what could happen next. As if he was also scared of losing someone.

“You’re okay now; you’re safe,” he murmured, his gruffness giving way to something softer as he held me close for a moment longer than necessary.

“I— I didn’t think—” I started, but my voice faltered. I wasn’t even sure what I was trying to explain. My body trembled, adrenaline still coursing through my veins, and tears started to flow freely.

Stan shifted me in his arms, carrying me inside the shack. “No talking. Let’s get you inside. You look like you’ve been through a goddamn war.”

Once we were inside, the warmth of the shack enveloped me, but it didn’t chase away the chill in my bones. Stan set me down gently on the couch, his hands gripping my shoulders as if he was afraid I’d disappear again if he let go. His eyes scanned me from head to toe, frowning at the dried blood on my arms and legs.

“You need to clean up,” he said, his voice commanding yet edged with concern. “Go shower, wash this off. Then I’ll take care of the rest.”

I blinked at him, the absurdity of a shower after nearly being killed by some forest creature not quite computing. The firmness in his voice left no room for argument, and the exhaustion weighing down my limbs pushed me to obey.

Dragging myself to the bathroom, I peeled off my dirty clothes and stepped into the hot stream of water. As I stood under the spray, I could still feel the intensity of Stan’s gaze on me, the way his hands lingered a second longer on my skin than necessary. The way my heart fluttered against my better judgment when he held me.

When I came back out, wrapped in an oversized towel, Stan was still waiting, arms crossed and that same look of concern etched across his face. He had a first aid kit open on the counter, a bottle of vodka seated next to it, and a neatly folded pile of clean clothes—his clothes. He motioned for me to sit back down.

“I—uh, I didn’t wanna go through your stuff, so I brought you these for now...” he seemed almost sheepish at the admission.

“Thank you, can you—” I started, but he turned away before I could finish. I carefully slipped into the baggy t-shirt and tartan pajama bottoms, their scent enveloping me.

“You can turn around now,” I half-chuckled.

“Let me see,” he said, his voice softer now, though his gruff exterior remained intact.

I sat, the tension between us thickening as Stan knelt beside me. His hands were surprisingly gentle as he took my arm, examining the cuts with care. His fingers brushed against my skin, sending an unexpected shiver down my spine. It wasn’t just the cold air; it was the way he looked at me—like I was fragile, like he was afraid I’d break if he didn’t handle me just right.

“This is nothing,” I mumbled, trying to sound tough, but the vulnerability in my voice betrayed me.

He didn’t respond, just kept tending to my wounds in silence. After a few moments, I couldn’t take the quiet anymore. The weight of what had happened in the woods, of what was happening between us, was too much.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Stan paused, his fingers freezing for a second before continuing to work on the bandages. He looked up at me, his eyes softer than I’d ever seen them. “What kind of question is that?”

“I mean…” I hesitated, unsure how to explain the jumble of emotions swirling inside me. “You don’t have to take care of me like this. It’s my fault…”

His brow furrowed, as if my words confused him. “Of course I do. Who else is gonna do it?” There was a tenderness in his voice, but also something more—something that made my chest tighten. “Besides, I—" he started, then stopped himself, his eyes flicking away as though he wasn’t ready to finish that sentence.

Suddenly, the space between us felt too small. His hands still cradled my arm, and the warmth from his skin was almost overwhelming. Before I knew it, I leaned closer, my breath catching in my throat. The air between us crackled with an energy I couldn’t ignore, and for a moment, neither of us moved.

And then, without thinking, I closed the gap. Our lips met, soft at first, tentative, like we were both testing the waters. Stan’s hand slid from my arm to my waist, pulling me closer as the kiss deepened. I could feel the pent-up tension in the way he kissed me, the restraint he had been holding back finally slipping. My heart raced, not just from the adrenaline still coursing through me, but from the realisation that this was happening—that I wanted this.

But just as quickly, fear set in. The memories of my nightmare, of trusting someone too easily, flooded back. My stomach twisted, and I pulled away, breathless and suddenly terrified of what I’d just let happen.

Stan’s eyes were wide, and I could see the hurt and confusion flicker across his face. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice rough, like he didn’t understand.

“I—” I couldn’t find the words. My mind was reeling, and all I knew was that I couldn’t let this happen. Not now. Not when everything felt so precarious. Every time I think about trusting someone, I see Jake’s face, the way he used to smile at me before it all went wrong. I remember how I dismissed the little signs—his jealousy disguised as concern, the way he twisted my words until I questioned my own reality. Trusting Stan felt like stepping onto a tightrope without a safety net, and I didn’t know if I was strong enough to balance.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, backing away. “I… I can’t.”

Stan blinked, and for a moment, I saw something in him crack—a vulnerability I hadn’t noticed before. His hand hovered in the air, like he wanted to reach for me, but then he pulled it back, stuffing it into his pocket.

“Yeah. Sure,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. He stood up, his back stiff as he turned away from me. “You should get some rest.”

He didn’t wait for a response before walking toward the door. My heart clenched as I watched him go, the weight of what had just happened—and what hadn’t—pressing down on me like a thousand pounds. I wanted to call out to him, to explain, but the words caught in my throat. Instead, I sat there, alone in the quiet, regret settling in like a cold chill.

As the door clicked shut behind him, a wave of silence crashed over me, amplifying the weight of my solitude. I started to sob, each breath shaking my body as the intensity of everything that had just happened poured out of me. Memories of the woods and Jake’s haunting voice intertwined with the warmth of Stan’s embrace. The struggle within me felt insurmountable, and as I curled into myself on the couch, I couldn't help but wonder if I’d just ruined the chance for something real. The tears streamed down my cheeks, and I fell into a fitful sleep, my heart heavy with the shadows of my past. Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[imaginationlane]

Six Nights In Paris [Marquis Vincent de Gramont x Reader | Prologue]

Warnings:

Adult Language & Themes, Violence, Death, & [Eventual] Smut.

Rating:

Explicit (18+) [Minors, if I catch you in my notes -- I will block your account from my page.]

Author's Notes:

I cannot fucking believe this character brought me back here. I've been revived from the dead for a sociopathic character with no empathy. Of course, my ass would come running for this walking, talking, red-flag factory. What the hell is wrong with me and why tf am I like this?!

On a side note, this Prologue is a little shorter than what I've written for stories in the past. But we dive into the meat and potatoes of the story in chapter one and it'll be a fairly long chapter that most of you may have been used to from me. So enjoy this reprieve, lol. It won't last long.

Summary:

Winston was out of his element, and it showed. It was rare to see such a proud man fall so far from grace, but he knew I would be one of the very few people left to answer his calls and he was right. According to him, the job was simple: Get to Paris, make an appearance at the Grand Masquerade Ball to celebrate the newly anointed Marquis, and infiltrate his ranks to gather intel on him. After all, the Marquis was rumored to be a ruthless wildcard. The High Table appointing such a man could spell disaster for anyone who happens to get in his way.

But I should have known that nothing ever goes according to plan. In an underworld filled with assassins and spies, it is a certainty that people distrust and use everyone they encounter as a means to their own ends -- and the Marquis and I are no exceptions. Now, as my reputation hangs in the balance, ending up as his newest obsession is, quite frankly, the most dangerous game of cat and mouse that I've ever played with my life, my mind, and my heart.

He had to have known that he was driving me to the point of pure madness. My black polished nails tapped impatiently against the scrapped and marred oak table in front of me as I listened to my burner ring for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. Winston was calling again, and God only knew why.

Twelve years of insanity. That's all he brought me since he blew into my life like the gale-force winds of a hurricane all those years ago. And I was still no closer to getting any of the answers I was so desperately seeking from him. This man knew more than he was saying about my past, answers that I couldn't find no matter how hard I tried. For years, he dangled what I wanted from him like a carrot on a string; holding it over my head as if it were something to taunt me with in order to get me to do his fucking bidding.

He had a lot of nerve calling me right now, I'd give him that much.

Part of me wanted to continue to ignore his calls. I owed him nothing and the last I heard, he was excommunicato -- so that would be an automatic death sentence for me if I were caught breathing within a five-block radius of him. The word on the street was that Wintson was out, the New York Conntennital Hotel was deconsecrated and decommissioned, and as for his favored concierge that was glued to his side like a shadow? Well, apparently, Charon took a bullet in the chest for him. It was official: Winston was radioactive and people would drop like flies around him. The message was crystal clear to me: if we all valued any semblance of our shitty existences, we'd stay the fuck away from him.

I could picture him now, sighing dramatically into his phone as he waited for me to pick it up. Had I really become so predictable that he just instinctively knew I was going to answer his call eventually? Of course, I had. Because he knew just how passionate I was for the answers I was seeking from him. For a moment, I continued to wonder about the options that lay ahead of me as I nursed a glass of whiskey in my hand and stared at a Cuban cigar sitting in the ashtray beside me. Twelve years in this business and Winston knows I'll come running whenever he calls. Figures.

Perhaps I really am that predictable. But believing that doesn't soothe the fierce emotions warring with each other deep within the recesses of my mind and soul. I hated being in this position and what's worse was that I hated how I kept doing this to myself.

Screw it, if I'm going to die, I might as well enjoy this fucking cigar while I still have the chance.

Without another thought, I flipped open my phone and placed it to my ear.

"This better be fucking good, because me just answering this phone call will probably put me on the High Table's shit list."

Winston chuckled softly as if mocking my impatience with this situation. "And here I thought you liked it whenever I called you."

My eyes closed momentarily, straining to hold in a tired sigh.

"Before you were excommunicated, sure. But you know as well as I do that me answering any calls from you now puts me at risk," I quipped back. "Now, what do you want Winston?"

He sighed over the other end, knowing my patience was running thin.

"I have a job for you --"

"Go to Hell, I'm not interested."

"If you weren't interested, little Dove, you wouldn't have even picked up your phone in the first place," his smooth baritone was amused at my initial refusal. "Besides, you will be once I tell you that your life is in danger if the new Marquis finds out who you are. Right now, there's a journal on its way to Paris and making its way into the Marquis's hands. A journal, by the way, that belongs to me."

I released a frustrated sigh of my own as I ran my hand over my face.

"I'm failing to see how that's my problem. A lot of people have worked with you in the past. Surely the High Table can understand that," I stated confidently.

Screw the cigar, I'm gonna need a cigarette just listening to him being cryptic as fuck like this.

"Maybe if John had not killed The Elder, then sure. You'd be right. But the new Marquis is pulling out all the stops now and he's on a warpath."

Wait, what did he just say?

"I'm sorry, John did what? I thought John was dead." I question incredulously.

Winston was silent for a moment, absorbing the fact that I sincerely had no idea what the hell he was even talking about. It shouldn't have been surprising for him though. When I'm not handling assignments, I'm dropping off the radar and ignoring the rest of the world until it's time for me to step back into it again. "You didn't know? Apparently, John Wick survived his brush with death at my hands. And it appears that I have a lot to catch you up on. Meet me at the old safe house location in Albany. You know which one I'm talking about, right?"

I hesitated for a minute, but my hesitation was futile. He knew I had agreed to meet him just by picking up the phone.

"Only on one condition."

"Name it, little Dove."

"I know you know who I was before this. For twelve goddamn years, you've kept me in the dark about who I am, what my past was like, how I ended up here -- and you've refused to tell me anything. I want every shred of information you have. No more hiding, no more games. Because if you dick me around again Winston, so help me God... I'll save the High Table the trouble and kill you myself." I stated matter of factly. I was done. The games stopped here or he could find someone else to do his fucking dirty work for him.

Winston remained silent on the other end of the phone, clearly contemplating his next move.

"It's non-negotiable Winston. Do you want help? You wanna stay alive longer than the next day or two? I need my answers, that's my price. You give me what I want and I'll not only meet you, I'll do whatever you need to keep you alive and help you undo the excommunicato. Do we have a deal?"

Sighing heavily to himself, he knew it was over. If he wanted my help, he was going to have to give me exactly what I wanted or he could take his risks with John Wick eventually coming after him.

"You want the information? It'll be yours. Get to the safe house by this afternoon. We've got a lot of ground to cover and time is of the essence," and with that, the other line went dead.

I snapped my phone shut and tossed it carelessly on the table in front of me. For twelve long years, this man used me as a means to an end. The training, the jobs, the marks that have nearly killed me until I killed them first; there was so much blood and death surrounding me that I gave up a long time ago on ever being able to wash my hands clean of it. My only question now, was how the hell did I get here and how come I couldn't remember any part of my life prior to Winston finding me? He had the answers and he sat on them, refusing to tell me anything. Now, I finally had a reason to force his hand in telling me everything.

Snatching up my glass tumbler, I downed the rest of the whiskey and stood up from the table. Plucking up my cigar, I was slightly depressed I wouldn't have a chance to smoke it today. No matter though. When this job was finished and I had every answer in my hands, I'll smoke it then. Besides, if I wanted to make it to Albany by the afternoon, I needed to pack up and leave immediately. Traffic was going to be a bitch anyway, thanks to the fact it was a weekend, so I needed to pick up the pace and hurry.

I wasted little time searching out my backpack and stuffing it with a change of clothes, necessary toiletries, an extra pair of boots, and a selected stash of guns, knives, and other lightweight weapons. Once that was complete, I walked to the front door to grab my helmet, riding gloves, and leather jacket. As soon as I was dressed and ready to ride, I strapped my pack across my back. Depending on what Winston would require for this so-called "job" of his in Paris, I may already have what I need at my French safe house location so it was important that I pack as lightly as I could. After locking up my penthouse, I was opening my garage and climbed on the back of my Black & Silver custom BMW S1000RR motorcycle. I didn't have to worry about too many folks being nosey in this neighborhood, as many of these people had their own secrets to hide anyway.

And as I began to gently coast along the quiet and sleepy neighborhood street on my bike, riding along serenely into the early morning orange rays of the sun, I took one last look around before I turned off that familiar little street and drove forth into a destiny that would change everything for me. __

Tag list: SkarsgardDreams, Parrabellum, FourteenGemStones, @egotistical-bastard4532 @adoringsebstan @adrilari @orenmcdamia @olivia11803 thelovethatnortherndownpoursent @thewastelandwriter @davvydobrik arabellaofmaddness, ladscarlett, @shadowfirecat @blue-1505 sallyp-53, heartrot666,

The next chapter will be posted within a week!

See you lovelies on the flip side!

[mezzy303]

HI IN LIGHT OF CHAPTER 1114 OF ONE PIECE I AM COMBINING SOME THEORIES A BIT

It might be safe to say that I can axe my theory (here) that the world is sinking due to natural phenomena lol. BUT I'm gonna keep the idea that the people of the Great Kingdom knew the event would happen sometime in the future, and add on the one that connects Lulusia and Enies Lobby (here).

To summarize the latter, the One Piece Wikia has a trivia note on the Lulusia page that points out that the crater formed after Lulusia was destroyed is similar to the circular falls that surround Enies Lobby. This had got me thinking that 800 years ago, the same or similar weapon was used on an island (possibly the Great Kingdom itself) and the World Govt placed their judicial island over the subsequent crater as a monument to their victory and an example of the lengths they'd go for their "justice."

And now from the new chapter, Vegapunk has directly connected the rising sea levels from the Mother Flame weapon to the Void Century. “In order to understand where the world is heading, we must first address the past, specifically what happened 900 to 800 years ago.” This likely means that the weapon Imu and the Five Elders used existed 800 years ago, if one would need to know the past to understand what's currently going on. A threat from the past is also threatening the future. And I feel like with every chapter, there are more hints that suggest this weapon could be Uranus, the final Ancient Weapon. We know next to nothing about Uranus, except that it's one of the three Ancient Weapons mentioned in the Poneglyphs. Since the other two relate to the gods they're named after, many fans have theorized that Uranus will relate to the sky somehow. And as the lasers that annihilated Lulusia came from the sky, it's likely that the weapon is somewhere above the clouds, which would fit in the theorized theme for Uranus. Also the amount of destruction it caused aligns with what we've been told about the Ancient Weapons' potential. An island-sized crater in the earth that causes global earthquakes and rising sea levels certainly counts as mass destruction!

I've been mulling in my head since the last chapter that the Elders have had this weapon at least since the end of the Void Century, but that it could only be used with the Ancient Energy (the same energy the Iron Giant had run on) of the Great Kingdom and that technology was lost after its fall. And then comes Vegapunk who was researching this energy to create his own everlasting energy source to better the world, thus developing the Mother Flame. On a side note, I wonder if the Elders were using Vegapunk this whole time in order to create something that Uranus could run on. Idk I get that York tipped them off, but it seems too coincidental that the Elders would get a sample of the Flame and a guaranteed loyalist that can create it, and then order Vegapunk's death soon after. Vegapunk just seems like too much of a wild card to have been kept alive for so long.

But back on topic!! When the Elders were "testing the Mother Flame" on Lulusia, what I think they were really doing was seeing if that energy would work with Uranus. And because it did, they are desperate to make sure the Flame stays intact on Egghead, as it's they're only way to use Uranus. They've already shown the extent they'll go to in order to keep the world under their feet, it would be just a minor inconvenience for the world's land to sink if it means they can continuously subjugate entire islands in an instant (they live on the Red Line, what does it matter to them if sea levels rise?)

And if the Elders, likely some of the original 20 allied monarchs, had similar views 800 years ago as they do now, then it probably wasn't hard to conclude how they would use Uranus when they got their hands on it. And that could be the reason why Noah was built. Those of the Great Kingdom, a highly advanced civilization, knew the ramifications of using Uranus and thus were preparing for the inevitability of a world with little land. As Doflamingo mentioned, just 5 more meters of rising sea level would swallow up most urban spaces, so it would only take at least 5 more times of using Uranus to sink the majority of land globally (if each use causes sea levels to rise 1 meter). The World Govt then erased records of the Ancient Weapons to make sure no one else could threaten them with the other two, but also to hide the fact they already had one in their possession. And as a counter, the shipwrights of Water 7 passed down Pluton’s blueprints in case the World Govt got hold of that weapon too, which I had brought up in one of my posts.

I feel like with every chapter I'm reforming and rerouting theories lmao. Let's see how this holds up in two weeks 😂

[waddlewaddlewaddlewaddle]

Over my head (Miguel ‘o’ Hara x Reader)

Chapter 5

Pairing: Miguel x reader

Summary: y/n is a kind hearted nurse who’s life gets turned upside down as she get fired from one the most prestigious hospitals in NYC , desperate , she start filing job applications wherever. Coincidentally a stressed Miguel is looking for a nurse due to a big amount of spider people getting injured due to the surprisingly large amount of anomalies happening in the spider verse. What could go wrong is these two meet?

Themes: ✎slow burn ( I think)

Mutual pining

✎office romance (¿)

Hidden romance

✎Smut available as story progresses.

Dom Miguel x sub/bratty reader

✎Stubborn, Ill tempered Miguel.

✎ Angelic reader .

It girl reader.

✎I try to be as accurate as possible.

English is not my first language so bare with me.

✎badass stoic x sweet empath.

Og spanish speaker so be prepared for steamy dialogue :3

Content :Fluff

See master list for previous or future chapters

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In a blink of an eye Miguel throws you into the air and with the help of a few faux webs your quickly taped down to the ceiling ,your hair falls straight down blurring your vision as you feel your back ache after suddenly being slammed into the roof.

-“¡Mierda Peter!”- Exclaimed Miguel as he watched Peter Parker walking in drunkenly still with his baby’s kangaroo on.

-“Where’s y/n?”- asked the joyful man with a can of Heineken in his hand.

-“she…”- Miguel lengths his sentence trying to compose a valid excuse but the worry that he didn’t stick you properly to the ceiling resulting in you falling down and possibly hurting yourself was all that could occupy his mind.-“Just left actually.”-He says with a fake smile.

Miguel was too busy trying to not break a sweat from his sudden acting role to notice that even though Peter was drunk his spider senses still worked perfectly and that he could sense your exhilarating heart beat from miles.

-“Well I just wanted to tell you that y/n told me about your injury so I could help out with the spiders , and as a friend I want you to take care of yourself, Mayday and I care deeply about you , we don’t want you to martyrize yourself for the sake of the association. For you information we perfectly run smoothly without your help for a few days. So as long as I find a babysitter for may I’ll replace you on your missions ,how does that sound ?”- Even though Peter was inebriated he pulled together the last night of eloquence he had so he could show his dear friend he cares about him.

The corner of Miguel’s lip raised for a millisecond before returning to his normal serious facade.

-“Thank you Peter but I won’t let you take over my responsibilities over a little injury. Plus with the recent raise of anomalies i don’t want to take extra risks. Do you want me to ask spider noir to take you home , you seem wasted.”- He ends the conversation with a small chuckle.

-“He’s even more wasted than I am! I’m too drunk to discuss this with you right now but just know the conversation is not over.”- Peter hasn’t gone out in a while since having mayday so he enjoys all the fun he could get.

And with some heavy unbalanced steps he quickly left the room leaving you too alone.

-“Miguel, I feel all the blood in my body in the front of my face. Please get my down.”- You groaned as you stayed still.

-“Coming.”- He said as he jumped about 13 feet in the air, With one hand he grabbed you by the waist and with the other he used his claws to rip the webs , he swiftly landed on the ground while you sorta struggled to climb off him to place yourself on the floor.

After letting you down you noticed that Miguel winced and started to rub the area that you just injected.

-“Don’t be too hard on yourself. You should take peters offer , it’ll be for his own good too. He needs those missions to get in shape so he’ll be able to keep up with mayday.”- You giggled as you started to put away the supplies.

-“Too dangerous.”

-“Oh Please Miguel, I know you think you’re the shit but i know they’ll get by perfectly without you.”- You sometime liked to provoke men by hurting their ego this way it’ll leave them flustered or confused, this lets you convince them easier it may seem Machiavellian but it’s for his own good.

Miguel’s brows tightened into a knot while he glared at you.

-“It’s not that, I’m just Really good at my job I guess.”- He murmured trying not to flatter himself too much when in reality he likes to think that the success of the spider society is due to his strict , hard handed leadership.

-“Whatever you say, i hope you’ll be able to climb walls as your ribs start pinching your lungs.”- you struggled to avoid letting out a laugh while watching the terror mirror in his face.

You quickly put away everything in their respective rooms and commanded the bots to sanitize the room before your arrival.

You grabbed your purse and walked back to the main room thinking migue would have left already but to your surprise his big figured continued to loom over the poor stool.

-“Goodnight Miguel.”- You smiled as you grabbed the door handle , before you knew it you felt a calloused warm hand grab your wrist.

-“Let me take you home.”

-“What for?”-You questioned.

-“To thank you for your services ,even though they were forced on to me.”-Miguel insisted as his hand refused to leave your small wrist

-“Be my guest.”

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸

Miguel drove a Ford raptor 150, A real vintage model but you could say it went well with his personality. The car smelled of smoker rosewood and was surprisingly spotless.

As you were driven to your home you couldn’t help but notice Miguel’s fixed gaze on the road or the way his rough hands grabbed the staring wheel firmly, you tried to not let your eyes wonder but they automatically traveled up to his arms that were decorated with bulging veins and a beautiful tan, your glare finally ended up on his face, his cheekbones and jawline were as sharp as his attitude , but what really caught your attention was his eyes ; they were cold and opaque like they were dull buttons glued on to his face. You concluded that he was strangely too handsome to be Spider-Man , he should be an old spice model or something.

-“Got something on my face?”- He murmured looking at you through the corner of his vision.

-“Yeah you got a little bit of blood; you better clean that up before they think you’ve killed someone.”- You responded as fast as lightning refusing to let him catch you off guard.

-“You always got a comeback huh?”- He sighed as he looked through your side mirror so he could take a turn.

-“Actually it comes out pretty naturally. It’s a gift you could say.”- You started to enjoy the conversations you two have while alone, this moment is not the exception. He was actually a pretty nice guy when he’s not throwing tables at unsuspecting people.

-“You live in a nice area of the city, I’ve never been here;must be a pretty safe spot.”

Miguel changed the subject while looking at the surroundings of your street , you choose this area because there were a lot of parks , trees and most importantly beautiful flowers to gaze at while taking a run.

-“want to know an unconventional reason why I choose this street.”

-“Enlighten me.”-He said as he swiftly parked in front of your building while turning his body to you so he could pay attention to you fully.

-“My parents immigrated from another country and where I’m from we lived in small town surrounded by a lot of nature, so you can imagine the shock when we moved here with concrete everywhere and all the pollution. So I picked this street cause the smell and ambiance sort of reminds me of home you know?”

-“It’s funny how everyone tries to make their reality one where they were most happy, even if it doesn’t exist anymore.”- He noted with a somber look in his eyes.

As you noticed the tensed up environment you decided to call it a night.

-“Thanks for the ride Miguel.”

-“Wait let me walk you to your door.”- He said grabbing the handle of his door.

-“There’s no need.”- You said with an earnest smile. -“Don’t want the door man to get the wrong idea.”

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Miguel locked the door to his penthouse and took his shoes of at the entrance , the Interior of his home was inspired by rustic minimalism.

The low glow of the lights made the house seem lonelier that it already was.

The bronzed man made his way to the shower turning on the cold water before taking off his clothes. He looked into the mirror to stare at the injuries staining his body, he was used to looking at open wounds and sometimes cuts that never healed properly due to his negligence, but then he stared at the little dots pertaining from your syringe, it’s the first time someone cared enough to tend to his injuries. He knows it’s your job and that he shouldn’t feel giddy over this, but after today he couldn’t help but feel a little appreciation towards you.

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The next day In the spider society hungover Peter Parker had a very important mission, he wanted to convince Lyla to suspend Miguel’s watch for at least a day so he could heal properly; he already informed the closest spider people so they could all be on their A game on todays mission for the sake of Miguel’s health.

-“Lyla I know it’s too much to ask but please keep it a secret from him!”- Pleaded out Peter almost on his knees.

-“There’s 5 anomalies roaming around the multiverse, how do you expect me to stay quiet”.- Groaned the ai.-“It’s Miguel’s choice if he decided to go out and bust his back, plus if I do decide to follow up on your plan he’ll be forced to stay here in HQ and bitch at me.”

-“Just trust me I have a plan.”

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸

After a rainy morning you arrived at HQ , after some greeting you noticed two spiders who were particularly hung over so you decided to prepare some iv bags and fluffen some pillows in case they wanted to come by and take a nap.

But as soon as you unlocked the door you noticed a sandwich from an artisan deli from the nice part of the city along with a warm latte.

You tilted your head in confusion wondering who could have left it here, on closer inspection you noticed a mint green note the top of the sandwich that read.

(Here’s last nights over time fee.

-M)

[a/n: sorry for the long wait but I enjoyed writing the

chapter and that’s all that matters to me🫶🏻 I’ll update from now on once a week :3]

[pamgkrthwrites]

Touched : Chapter 3 : Connection

Warning, the following content is for an 18+ audience. If you are under the age of 18 do not read the content below. The following content has themes such as; Sexual Content, Pet Names(Princess/Good Girl), Oral Sex, Fingering, Penetration Sex, Unprotected Sex, Biting, Dry Humping, Sexual Slapping, Swearing, Body Worship, Edging, and others. The character(s) depicted within this post are over the age of 20. (This list may get updated with each new Chapter Update)

Support me on Ko-Fi | Sign Up to the Tag List | Masterlist | AO3 Listing

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Bakugou x F!Reader

Themes: Soulmates, Porn with Plot (This list may get updated with each new chapter update)

Summary: After Bakugou walks you home you two have a nice lovely wonderful chat in your kitchen.

Word Count: 3529

Tag List: @tjmaxx556 @cosmicbreathe @lavender99 @optimisticprime3 (if I got anyone's tag wrong I am very sorry)

A/N: Thank you to my beta readers "Huntress" and "Ribbon". This chapter is the first time I've ever let someone read a fic while I'm still writing it. I wanted to make sure the porn was not awful. I can't say if it's bad, but it's not awful. Hopefully. Regardless, I hope you enjoy this chapter, I have a feeling I won't be able to get back it until I'm done with a shit tone of assignments. I am STRESSIN.

Your front door bursts open with a bang and Bakugou pushes it open with your back. He kicks the door closed behind him before sitting you up on the kitchen counter, his lips attached to yours.

Bakugou moves a hand on your lower back and pulls you closer, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist. He pulls his kisses down your face to your jaw to your neck. You let out a moan which made him chuckle.

“I love how that sounds from this end.” He whispered into your ear, making you shiver.

You loved how this felt in person. You loved how not just were able to feel his enjoyment through the soul bond, but you were experiencing it too.

Bakugou pushed the hem of your skirt to your hip before thrusting his hips against yours, making you moan. Bakugou let out a low breath, his hands slightly twitching.

It felt almost overwhelming to feel - through the bond - him wanting to be inside you while also feeling his hardened cock pressed against your core. The only reason why it wasn’t pushing in already was because of the clothing between you two.

Bakugou’s grip on you was becoming almost desperate as he held you close, kissed your neck and was pushing his body against yours. His want and desire for you were becoming overwhelming, making him feel as if he was going to explode. He bit your neck harshly, which made you let out a submissive whimper, driving him more insane than he already was. 

“Tell me what you want, Y/N.” He whispered into your ear before thrusting his hips against yours again.

You nodded your head, but Bakugou didn’t seem to like that response. 

“Use your big girl words, Y/N.” Bakugou cooed out, which only made you respond with lewd whimpers.

“I-I want you to rail me.” You whimpered.

“Good girl.” His voice was like soothing honey which fueled the fire you were feeling in your stomach.

Bakugou’s hand moved to the inside of your skirt to pull down your stocking. He pulled back from you to look at what he was doing, which resulted in another wave of lust that you could feel through your soul bond.

Bakugou was able to figure it out, pulling down your stockings and panties. Your legs unhooked from his waist so he could pull them fully off. You were ready to hook your legs around him again, but instead, he leaned his face closer to your core.

You felt your face heat up when you felt his hot breath on your vulvar. You heard him chuckle between your legs before he kissed your inner thigh.

“It’s so much better to see in person than to imagine it.” He confessed before starting to kiss and suck at the folds of your pussy.

You gasped and gripped his hair tightly as you arched your head back. You heard a groan come from his throat which vibrated through your cunt. Bakugou grips both your thighs and tilts them upwards, forcing you onto your back.

It wasn’t comfortable to lay on your back on a kitchen counter, but fucking shit did he know how to work that mouth of his. You had no idea how he learnt such a skill, maybe he was using the soul bond to see what you were reacting to and rushed that to his advantage. 

He was licking your labia as if he had never eaten or drank anything in his life. He was slowly moving his licks to your clit, which was making your head spin. He was moving his tongue in all sorts of directions while on your clit.

You pulled on his hair tightly as you felt yourself getting close, which made him hiss from the pain. He didn’t fasten or slow down his licks, just kept them at the pace you were enjoying until you climaxed.

It felt as if all the stresses in your body were being released. A warm fuzzy feeling washed over your body and you felt your core shudder. 

You swear you must’ve gone deaf in that moment, as you were broken out of your high trance when you felt a light slap on your thigh.

“Ow.”

“That was not that hard.” Bakugou sassed back at you before straightening up.

You saw him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand and holy fucking shit he look so hot doing that why does he look like that what the fuck?

Bakugou froze, raising an eyebrow at you with a slight smirk. “Really? I’m wiping my mouth?”

You hate this soul bond. How dare it betray you like this.

Bakugou laughed at the face you were making. His laugh was rough, but it sounded really nice in your ears.

Bakugou put his arms under your back and pulled you up, making you sit back up. He looked into your eyes, noticing your fuzzy state.

“Do you need some water?” He asked gently. “Do you need a break or have you had enough?”

You shook your head, leaning forward to wrap your arms around his neck before kissing his cheek. Bakugou let out a sigh of relief before pulling you closer. He felt you though for a moment, as if he was worried he had broken you by eating you out.

Bakugou pulled from you, which earned him the shaping of a pout on your face. 

“I’m just undressing you, princess.” He reassured you with a cute little pet name to boot.

Bakugou’s big hands made the buttons on your white button-up shirt look so incredibly tiny. You look up at him, and you can feel his arousal go up.

Once he has unbuttoned your shirt, he yanks it off of you before kissing your shoulder, pushing down your bra strap. His hand seems to naturally cup your breast, though he is quickly annoyed by the bra being in his way.

“How do I get this stupid thing off?!” He grumbled in annoyance. 

You weren’t supposed to see that grumbling as attractive, were you?

He gives you a questioning glare. “Just tell me how.”

“Three hooks on the back.” You informed him. It didn’t answer his question because admittedly you wanted a close-up on his arms. 

Bakugou grunted as he reached behind you for the back of the bra. His nose scrunched and his biceps tensed. Finally, he got it unhooked and threw it off over the counter.

“I never want to interact with one of those things again.” He complained, resting his head on your shoulder.

You’d think he forgot about your now exposed breasts with how he jolted a bit once his eyes landed on them and hesitantly cupped your breast with his hand. He started to fondle with one in his hand as if it were a stress ball, though not as hard as one would handle a stress ball.

He seemed more confused about the breast tissue than enjoying it in his hand. To be fair on his part though, this had been the first time he had even touched boobs.

You looked up at his face, though his gaze seemed to be more focused on the boob in his hand. He wasn’t aroused by your breasts, indirectly forming the notion within your brain that he might not like how they look. Were they too small for his liking? You remember Minato telling you that he ‘didn’t like small tits’. Was Bakugou the same?

Bakugou’s eyes looked up into yours, clearly in deep thought before he leaned in and started to kiss your neck again. However, he was being gentle with his kisses and how he was now massaging your boob.

You could feel Bakugou’s arousal not just through the soul bond, but also from his hard cock pressing against your thigh, reminding you that he was still fully clothed.

As if he could read your mind he sighed and started to take off his shirt. “I’m getting there princess, calm down.”

You noticed the scars on his chest and his arms. It looked as if he had been stabbed through the chest and had badly blown up his own arms. It didn’t make him look any less attractive to you far from it. It was more the fact he had to have gotten the scars from somewhere.

You trailed your hand down his chest, caressing the scars in the centre of his chest. He shivered, watching you closely as you carefully looked at his body.

You couldn’t help but wonder if this was why he didn’t want to do photoshoots.

Bakugou suddenly grabbed your wrists and pulled your hands away from his chest. “That’s enough for now.” He sighed.

You looked up into his eyes and saw this haunted look in them. Maybe he still felt some pain with them? 

You leaned close to the right side of his face and lightly and gently kissed the scar on the right side of his face.

Bakugou turned his face so you would kiss his lips instead. You put a hand on one of his biceps and sweetened the kiss while he leaned closer to deepen the kiss. 

He was so sweet to the touch that you slightly feared you would get addicted to his skin. If that was even possible.

You heard rustling and looked down to see Bakugou kicking off his baggy pants.

He puts a finger under your chin and forces you to look up at his eyes. “Spoilers, princess.”

Fuck he was hot shit.

He leans in and starts kissing you again, his hand resting on your inner thigh and starts to softly caress it as his other hand continues to massage your breast.

You bit his lower lip playfully, which earned you getting your clit rubbed by him. You whimpered from his touch, a smirk forming on his lips.

“You ready?” He asked in a gentle - almost silent- voice, as if he was scared of being rejected.

You start to nod, stopping because of the look Bakugou gave you. ‘Use your big girl words.’ Rang through your back and you sighed.

“Yes, I’m ready.”

“Good girl.” He praised

He kept a finger under your chin so you couldn’t see his cock. You could tell it was pulled out because of the soul bond, letting you feel a hand wrapped around his cock. Now that you knew the size of his hands, you suddenly realised his cock was probably a bit bigger than what you were used to.

You felt the tip press against the labia, and it felt a bit wet from the pre-cum on it.

Bakugou took a deep shaky breath in, drawing your eyes to his. His eyes were focused on your cunt though.

Admittedly- though never out loud - he was nervous. He hated how it felt feeling you being sucked down by some other guy, so he hoped eating you out would help him build some courage. Hoping it would make him realise it felt different compared to when the other guy did it.

He knew it felt different - better even - compared to how your ex did it, because of the soul bond. He couldn’t help but wonder though if it felt different because he was doing it and maybe he was feeling his own enjoyment.

You were eager and desperate for his touch, he could feel that. He wanted you just as much. 

“Katsuki.” You finally spoke, breaking his train of self-deprecating.

He looked up at you, breathing in sharply as he looked into your eyes and saw the lust in your eyes. It wasn’t just that though, there was something else. Something he thought maybe you weren’t ready to hear for yourself.

“Are you okay?” You asked him, your voice sounding so sweet to him. “If you're not ready we don’t have-“

“I am ready.” His voice sounded a bit harsh. He coughed before speaking again so he wouldn’t sound as harsh. “I just want to be better.”

Your brain almost instantly knew he was referring to your ex. You mentally cringed. You knew your past relationship messed with him, but you didn’t want it to mess with your sex life with your soulmate. You tried to think of things that your ex Minato didn’t do.

“Finger me.”

“What?!” Bakugou looked at you with a questioning look.

“It’ll help stretch me out so I’m ready to take your dick.” You answered him.

Bakugou made a face before looking back down at your wet pussy. He pulled his dick away from your labia and replaced it with his hand. He started to gently rub the area with his fingers. He pressed his thumb on your clit and started to gently rub it.

You bit your lower lip as you carefully watched him. His eyes were so focused on your core and pleasing it. 

Finally, he inserted a finger in, which made you breathe in harshly. The fix of his index finger within you reminded you of your first vibrator. It was small in length and width as you didn’t want your mother to accidentally find it and it didn’t have a lot of power to it, but it got the job done for you back then.

Bakugou used the soul bond to figure out what part of your inner walls you enjoyed the most. Once he found the right speed, pressure, and technique you liked, he pushed another finger inside of you.

You gripped his biceps and rested your head on his shoulder, taking shallow breaths as he fingered you. Bakugou smirked at your reaction.

“You look delicious like this.” He whispers into your ear, trying to aim deeper into your cunt. “So much better than feeling it. I get to see you fall weak to my fingers instead of feeling you trying so hard to reach this.”

He said, just as he found your g-spot and started to apply pleasure pressure to it. You dug your nails into his skin as you started to moan. You were rewarded with him chuckling at your reaction before kissing your temple.

You could feel yourself nearing your edge to another climax, and Bakugou could feel that through the soul bond. He made sure to working at your pussy until you were at the very edge before pulling his fingers away.

You whined in desperation, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

“You have to hold it in just a little bit more, princess.” Bakugou whispered into your ear as he kissed the tip of cock to your cunt’s entrance. 

You bit the inside of your mouth as Bakugou slowly pushed himself into you. His dick was thick, thicker than what you were used to. You dug your nails into his biceps, making him hiss in pain.

“I’m almost in, princess. You’re doing very well.” Bakugou cooed into your ear as he kissed your temple again. “Take deep breaths.”

You did as he said, taking a deep breath as he pushed more of himself into you. Your hands moved from his arms to his back so you wouldn’t damage his perfect arms.

Once he was fully inside you, you both paused and took a breath. You felt so full with his cock inside of you, yet it felt as if he was the perfect size for your cunt. He was 6 and a half inches in length and 2 inches in width. You felt your walls tighten around his member, creating a groan from Bakugou.

Your own pleasure and his pleasure that you could feel through the soulbond was so overwhelming that you now could answer why yesterday his session felt so much more intense. Because he was thinking about you.

You felt Bakugou move his back, withdrawing his cock from you slightly before thrusting back in, sending a way of pleasure back through your body. His thrusts at first were slow as he tried getting used to how to work his cock in tune with you. He started to build up pace, his hips moving in and out of your entrance at an increasing pace.

You started to claw your nails on his back as you moaned, sobbing tears into his neck. He peppered the side of your face with kisses, trying to praise you without using his words as he has formed to only grunts and groans now.

It felt as if the tip of his cock was punching at your cervix, and the sounds that were filling your kitchen were not sounds that should be in a kitchen. Loud wet clapping sounds mixed in with lewd grunts, groans, moans and whimpers.

“P-Please let me cum.” You begged into his ear, trying to hold off on climaxing as much as you could.

“Not yet.” Bakugou growled, sounding possessive as his thrusts became rougher.

He was going to be addicted to your cunt if he wasn’t careful. Feeling how your pussy is through the soul bond since he was a teenager was one thing, it made him so desperate for you. Now though, experiencing at last? He was going to go crazy. It felt better than he imagined, almost as if it was the perfect fit for him. No one could possibly even compare to you.

And how could they? You looked like a goddess by being almost fully naked. The way certain strains of your hair clung to your sweating skin, the way your face and eyes looked, the way your body clung to him? If someone told him this was heaven he wouldn’t even argue. 

His hands were twitching as he felt himself getting close to the edge. He knew you could tell by how your pussy seemed to tighten around him even more so.

“J-just a little bit long, p-princess.” He stumbled out.

If any of his friends found out he had become a stuttering mess because of pussy he would kill every single one of them.

He then bit down on your neck harshly, getting the result of you whimpering as he thrusts into you harshly becoming finally - with a grunt - releasing his hot white cum into your womb. You moaned out, digging your nails into his back as you followed suit.

You became extremely lightheaded from not just your own climax, but feeling Bakugou’s at the same time. Through your years with the soul bond, you two never actually climaxed together. It felt maybe a bit too much, as your vision was sprinkled with black spots. 

You felt Bakugou’s hot breath on the bite mark he had left as he pulled out of you. You whined, already missing the feeling of being full. Bakugou peppered your neck and jaw with kisses.

“You did so well, princess.” He said reassuringly. “You were perfect.”

Bakugou leaned his head down and started to kiss down your body. Your shoulders, chest and breasts, your stomach and then your thighs.

“You are so perfect.” You heard his voice. “My perfect little soulmate.”

Bakugou continued to kiss your body as you were slowly coming down from your high. Once your vision was fully back, you leaned down and kissed his forehead.

He hummed, standing back up and kissing your lips softly. He wrapped his arms around you before lifting you up. You made a high-pitched sound which he thought sounded quite cute.

“Where’s your bedroom?” He asked as he carried you out of the kitchen, eyeing the amount of boxes you had yet to unpack.

You pointed to an open door. Bakugou took long strides to the door, moving quickly around the boxes in your apartment. He sat you down on your bed then kissed your forehead.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, his hand lightly trailing your skin on your arm.

“Mmmm.” Was all you were able to get out. 

Bakugou chuckled. He left you in your room for just a moment before coming back with a glass of water, putting it on the floor beside your back along with your lamp.

“You really need to unpack.” He commented.

“I’ll do that on the weekend.” You responded as you laid your head down on your pillow.

Bakugou made a mental note of that, trying to think if he had an opening on the weekend to possibly come and help.

He wrapped you in your blankets, kissing your forehead. “Do you want me to stay?” He asked.

You paused before nodding your head.

“I’ll have to leave early in the morning.” He told you as he made his way to the door of your bedroom. “Just going to collect our clothing.”

You didn’t have to wait that long before he returned, dropping your mix of clothing onto the floor of your bedroom before making his way over to your bed. He climbed in effortlessly next to you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your forehead.

“Now that we have found each other,” He started as he trailed his hand up and down your back. “You are mine. You won’t be needing another boyfriend but me. Understood?”

You nodded your head with your eyes closed, snuggling into his chest.

You don’t think you’ll be wanting anyone else anyway.