#i have them on quotev & wattpad too if you care | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gabriel-xander · 11 months

Text

I Wish You Died Instead Ch. 1

[Scaramouche x Fem!Reader]

A/N: I started writing this before all of his lore came out/Before the last Sumeru Archon quest, so there will be a handful of inconsistency later on. My advice to you? Just go with it!

Summary:

You hate working for the Fatui. You hate working for Scaramouche. And you just… hate Scaramouche.

He's two-faced, incorrigible, insensitive, and has an atrocious personality. Unlike yourself, he enjoys hurting others simply because he can. You know he only recruited you because he believes you have the potential to be a killer. You didn't join the Fatui because you wanted to, you joined because you needed the resources. You don't want to be turned into a weapon, but Scaramouch didn't care.

You really… really hate him.

{Also on Quotev, AO3, and Wattpad under Gabriel Xander}

Chapter 1: Oh, Lore?

You smoothly fix your mask over your face when you cool off enough from the strong breeze. It was pretty stuffy in that Fatui mask despite the weather being colder than Tsaritsa's taint 24/7, you never liked wearing it. But you had no choice but to follow the regulation of keeping your uniform in check.

"[L/n]."

You look up from the report you were reading, your fellow agent was towering over you since you were sitting on a rock.

"What is it, Kazuki?" You mutter, closing the folder to hide whatever was inside.

It's not like you didn't trust Kazuki: he was the only one you could trust considering he was your best friend. But you two weren't in the same department, and you rather not expose him to the danger you had to deal with. He was special to you like that.

The pale man offers a ghost of a smile, "May I sit with you?"

You snort unattractively, "Sure, be my guest."

The rock wasn't even big enough for your ass, but maybe that was Kazuki's plan from the start. Scooting over so you're practically just sitting at the edge, the black haired agent carefully sits next to you on your conquered rock island.

You let out an undignified squeal as Kazuki's body manages to shove you off the rock. He quickly grabs your arm and pulls it against his body so you don't fall. You had to drop the report on the snow so you could steady yourself against the rock. Both you and Kazuki were laughing like morons, luckily that the other agents were inside where it protected them from the Snezhnaya weather.

"Moron," You chuckle, already feeling warm from where you and the other were flushed together, "What do you want? I don't have Mora."

Kazuki was a tall man, taller compared to the majority of people anyway. And since you're probably the one of the few people who's seen him without his Fatui mask, you can confidently say that Kazuki was, unfortunately, very attractive. His pale skin was close to perfect, minus the horizontal scar on his left cheek. His black hair was pushed back, at the front and center of his hair was pink.

His eyes were an extremely light shade of brown, almost giving it a gold hue. Though because of this, it made his tadpole pupils easily visible. This is where the pupils take an oval-like shape, though in Kazuki's case, they almost look sharp at the end.

His deep voice brings you out of your thoughts, "I don't want anything. I just wanted to check up on you since you're out here alone. I know you hate Snezhnaya weather so..."

"Aw, am I that special to you?" You tease, letting your guard down just a bit.

"Absolutely not. Go perish."

You groan, "Speaking of doing shit that seems shitty, how's it like working for Lord Tartaglia?"

The male agent sharply shakes his head. Clear message: change the subject.

"Well, if it's any consolation, Lord Scaramouche doesn't remember I exist," You add lamely, "I really think my recruitment was a mistake on his part."

Kazuki shakes his head, "I don't understand why you joined the Fatui to begin with. This is no place for someone like you."

"And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"That you're too soft."

"Oh." That's pretty much true so you can't even say anything! "I didn't wanna get chosen by Lord Scaramouche, but apparently he thought I was most suited for his field since he commands the Skirmishers."

Kazuki raises a brow, "And how do you know that?"

"Well... Do you remember three months ago, the night of our personal recruitment's to the Harbingers?"

——

You wouldn't consider yourself talented in anything or skilled in areas that are remarkable. But you do pride yourself in being able to sweet talk your way into and out of situations, and your invisibility. Not that you're dIfFeReNt AnD qUiRkY and no one ever notices you, but you're an absolute fucking master at sneaking into places you do not belong in.

It's not often that Harbingers will recruit for direct subordinates, so when you (and Kazuki) were given the chance, you put on your best show in hopes of attracting the attention of a low ranking Harbinger.

That's right, you wanted to work for someone like Il Dottore. He's a researcher, and in your opinion, the most pacifistic department. You also heard he's not fond of Vision-wielders, so you thought he would've loved to have someone like you.

But no.

That's not what happened.

You knelled down in front of the door that led into Scaramouche's office, taking a long, thin, metallic tool from your pocket. You stuck the tool into the lock and began to twist and turn the device to pick at the door.

You're probably expecting some deep lore for the reason why you're a lock-picking master, but honestly you just learned it to impress your friends when you were a kid.

Anyway, you don't have a Vision, and honestly you're grateful for that. You've seen what happens to those who's Visions are taken away or destroyed. And if your own personal research has made you learn anything, you're not too eager about being granted into Celestia.

You openly displayed disgust when the recruitment reports. You, along with a handful of other brutish Fatui agents, were selected to be direct subordinates of the Balladeer: Scaramouche, Number Six of the Fatui Harbingers.

Not only that, he appointed you as his second in command simply because you're quiet (around him).

You bit your tongue from cheering out loud when a familiar click came from the door. You pulled the tool out and stuffed it back into your uniform. You quickly stood up and opened the door, slipping inside and quietly closing it behind yourself.

You sighed in relief when you didn't see anyone in the room. Perhaps it was extremely reckless to not check before entering, but that was just a flaw you needed to work on. Noticing the stack of folders on Scaramouche's plain desk, you quickly made your way to the other side of the room.

——

"YOU BR-" Kazuki quickly lowers his voice to a whisper, "You broke into Lord Scaramouche's office?!"

"Yeh."

"Holy fuck. How are you not dead?!"

"Let me finish."

——

Each folder was plain and unmarked, you had to open each one and skim for your name to find your folder. There were so many folders, and from what you gathered, three folders belonged to one person. One for their medical/physical information, one for their specialty, and if they wielded a vision or not, and the last one was personal information about the person's detailed background.

You weren't interested in anyone else other than yourself and Kazuki, and Scaramouche wouldn't have your friends' folder, so you only searched for your own.

Skimming through the first files for your name, then separating it three at a time, you begin searching more frantically when you start reaching the bottom and you've yet to see your report.

Maksim, Ivac, Andrei, Lena, [L/n- That's mine!

On the fucking bottom of the pile were your reports, no doubt Scaramouche did that on fucking purpose.

You organize the other folders neatly as they were before, leaving yours out to read it.

[Y/n] [L/n]

Female

[Height]

[Weight]

——

"Ugh," Kazuki scrunches his nose, "If I ever go missing, do not put my weight on the missing poster. I promise I won't come back."

——

[Eye Color]

[Hair Color]

Agent 241100

You shake your head and check your specialty folder. You don't think you can see how much the Fatui knows about your family, it might break you.

You skim through the folder to the last page where you see notes written in a different font and color. You're pretty sure this is Scaramouche's own notes on your person.

Wields no Vision, yet she is exceptionally more talented and stronger than the other incompetent agents who do wield Visions. She uses a Claymore, but is surprisingly fast with her attacks and just as powerful. I've heard she wants to be on a researching branch, or a collector, or something of the sorts. But that will be a waste of talent, which is why I recruited her before that idiot Childe could. The brat hesitates with harming the others during training, no doubt it will become a liability later on. But with enough exposure, she could become the perfect killer and wea-

"And what do you think you're doing?"

You slam the folder closed and spin around to face the door since your dumbass had your back towards the entrance.

You widen your eyes, just realizing that you forgotten your mask with Kazuki in the main room where other agents just fuck around.

You grin nervously, "I... Lord Tartaglia...!"

——

"HOW ARE YOU NOT DEAD, [Y/N]?!" Kazuki shouts too close to your ear.

You frown and rub your ear against your shoulder, "Well, stop interrupting me, Nao, and I'll tell you!"

"Fine."

"Fine!"

——

"What are you doing here?" Tartaglia crossed his arms, an expression mixed with a smile and a scold, "You are aware this is Scaramouche's office."

"Wh-uh, w-what are you doing here, hm? Lord Tartaglia?"

You messily shoved your folders under the pile since you were doing it behind your back. You're sure Tartaglia wasn't blind to it, considering he was fucking looking right at you.

"You must've picked the lock, the door wasn't all the way closed," Tartaglia amused you, "Now, explain yourself. I'd hate to have you executed for treason."

"Treason? Isn't that a bit uh-an overreaction?" You bit the inside of your cheek, "I-I just wanted to check why Lord Scaramouche chose me as his direct subordinate. I'm not a Skirmisher, and I did my best to make it perfectly clear that I wanted the most pacifistic branch..."

You turn your gaze to the side, silently referring to the folders behind you on the desk, "I have no other motives, I just wanted to know why the Archons have forsaken me."

You hear a soft puff of air from Tartaglia before the sound of footsteps. You keep your gaze down, knowing better than to look a Harbinger in the eyes.

"Does Scaramouche explain why he recruited you?" Tartaglia asked as he stopped by your side, nudging you to move so he could look at the files.

"Yes, sir. Well, I think so? Something about how he can turn me into a weapon and a killer if the fucker traumatizes me enough," You scoffed.

"Ha-ha! Is that so?"

"Oh!" Shit, you forgot who you were talking to, "I-I mean-I'm so sorry! I mean no disrespect towards Lord Scara-"

"-No, don't worry about it," Tartaglia said dismissively as he picked up your folder from the bottom, "He's certainly unpleasant, I'll give you that. Where are his notes?"

"Second folder, last page."

Tartaglia follows your instructions, grabbing the folder and opening it to the last page. You keep watch of the door, watching and listening for any intruders since Tartaglia didn't bother closing the door. You're sure he did it on purpose so if Scaramouche does come in, the blame would quickly fall on you.

Fucker.

"Interesting. You're a skilled fighter, [L/n]?" Tartaglia mused, "And you hid this fact from me? How rude."

"I'm not-" You felt your eyelid twitch, "-I don't like fighting. That's why I hope to be recruited by someone lame like Lord Dottore. Or even you, so I can just collect debts."

Tartaglia hummed quietly for a moment. You push yourself off the desk, stretching your arms above your head. You're actually preparing yourself to die right now. You disrespected not one, but two Harbingers in front of Tartaglia, got caught breaking into a superior's office, and you didn't even properly greet Tartaglia like you were supposed to.

You're honestly surprised to have lived so long anyway.

"Well, get out of here already," Tartaglia picks up your second folder to read it, not bothering to look at you, "If you leave now, you won't get caught."

You blink in surprise, "I... Lord Tartaglia-"

The ginger finally looks at you with a grin, though it doesn't reach his eyes. Later you learn that it never does.

"-Leave, before I throw the blame on you and say you picked the lock."

You bow deeply in gratitude, "Thank you, Lord Tarta-"

"-Childe."

"...Yes, thank you, Lord Childe."

——

Kazuki whistles loudly, "Wow..."

"Yep," You cling to Kazuki's arm as you pick up the report you have dropped, "And I guess he kept his word since I'm still alive and Lord Scaramouche hasn't said anything to me yet."

Kazuki suddenly stands up, causing you to fall off the rock and land in the cold snow.

"You fucker! You couldn't give me a warning?! This is why I have trust issues, Nao! You have any-"

"-Let's go inside, [Y-er, [L/n]," Kazuki's tone is suddenly more monotonous as he reaches his hand out, "I actually came out here to get you. Lord Scaramouche requested for you."

"You motherfucker."

#fanfiction #reader insert #geshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #female reader #scaramouche #genshin impact scaramouche #original character #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact wanderer #wanderer #wanderer x reader #short story #i dont know how to tag on tumblr #im doing me best #IWYDI Fanfiction

77 notes · View notes

skyalent · 11 months

Text

Witches Can Be Good | Supernatural x Scarlet Witch! Reader - Part 1

This is intended to be a short story/one shot. I wrote this when I had a sudden idea of a crossover between Supernatural and the Scarlet Witch. Also available on my Wattpad and Quotev! Enjoy!

This inspired by a tumblr post: The Sweet Old Lady is a Witch by Thera. I really love her Wanda/Y/n OC and the story! Here's her story: https://thera-daydreams.tumblr.com/post/658041636626022400/

Supernatural x Scarlet Witch! Reader

I do not own Marvel or Supernatural.

Part 1 (You are here) *~* Part 2 *~* Part 3 *~* Part 4???

Part 1: Into the World of Supernatural

Wanda was done and tired.

After going through the multiverse with Dr. Strange and Loki, after Westview, after sacrificing everything over and over and over again Wanda was done and tired.

She looked tiredly towards the two friends that had grown on her. The two friends that had become brothers to her. Sensing her stare they turned to her, silence questioning in their eyes as she smiled tiredly at them.

"I think I'm done."

...

"... you're done...?" Dr. Strange repeated, not fully understanding what Wanda was implying.

"I'm tired, Stephen. I want to relax, sit down for a while... maybe watch the flowers grow."

Loki looked at her with a contemplative look before nodding, "Where will you go?"

"Anywhere but here." Wanda automatically responded, "I don't care if there's heroes there or anything really. As long as the world is somewhat normal and similar and they leave me alone, anywhere is fine."

Both Strange and Loki looked at each other before carefully taking Wanda's hands in theirs, a gesture that they had come up with to comfort each other. They had all gotten close together after all they had went through.

"We'll call you if we need you." Strange commented.

"And we'll keep in touch." Loki added, elbowing Strange who lightly glared back at him, "We won't bother you too often. Go live your 'normal' life."

"You deserve it." Strange tried to redeem himself, gaining a small grin from Wanda. "Just try not to cause any trouble. Or rather, trouble we'll have to intercept in." Loki elbowed him again.

"I'll try my best." Wanda only smiled, squeezing her hands that held theirs before letting go. "I better get going now."

"See you around Wanda."

"I think a fresh start needs a new name, doesn't it?" Strange said suddenly.

"Strange I think that's the first good idea I've heard come from your mouth." Loki scoffed, grinning as Strange looked at him offended. "I've always been partial to the name Y/n."

"Y/n L/n it is." Strange proudly smiled ignoring the look Loki gave him as he looked at Wanda- at Y/n.

"Really? L/n?"

"I think it sounds nice, Loki." Y/n reassured the god. At those words he automatically changed his mind.

"Yes, Y/n L/n surely fits you."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Y/n sighed as she finally finished conjuring up all of the new items for her new home. She had already put a spell around it, ensuring that those who entered her new home would feel safe, warm, and comfortable. She wanted the exact opposite of Westview. She carefully hid the runes, making them small and they camouflaged well with the decorative wallpaper.

She had bought a small store, her home right above it. The store, Y/n decided, was going to sell things that she took comfort in. Books, plants, and a couple assorted goods if she felt like baking in the kitchen. There was even a section for artists to paint and for others to just sit in the bean bags and relax or read a good book.

Speaking of books, the town she moved into was awfully generous. After hearing she was going to open a bookstore, the resident librarian, who was an old, dying man, came up to her. He loved his books as if they were his own children. But his grandchildren didn't want to take over the library and he didn't want to see all of his books get tossed away.

And so, the old man generously gave Y/n most of the books from his library. He kept some and donated the rest to charity. Y/n's little shop was going well. Y/n didn't mind much about the slow business, she just wanted to relax and take in every moment. Something that she never would have done before.

But as each day passed, Y/n couldn't help herself but to find out the secret of this world. The supernatural existed.

It didn't come as much of a shock for Y/n, considering she was partly supernatural, but to hear the benevolent spirits and ghosts gossiping about ghosts who had fallen into rage and anger confused her. It baffled her so much to hear about ghosts actually having the ability to kill people, so she separated ghosts into two categories.

Astral ghosts. Ghosts of the dead who wandered in the astral plane, patiently waiting for something to occur before accepting their death. These were the ghosts that never went angry or fell into a random rage. Like the poor old librarian. He was waiting for his grandchildren to visit either his grave, the shut down library, or Y/n's bookstore before passing on. In the meantime, he continued his daily routines as if he were alive.

Then there were the angry ghosts. Not a very original name, Y/n knew, but it was simple enough for her to understand. They were the ghosts that fell into darkness and killed others, overwhelmed with rage to even see reason.

She didn't worry much about those ghosts, because the ones that were in her small town were given free therapy by her, and easily lost their anger and passed on to the afterlife with the reaper guiding them.

The other supernatural things? Y/n read up on them with the books given to her in the library, but other than that, she didn't care about them. If they were to ever show up at her town, she would make sure to deal with it so that everyone would be safe. But as she settled in and let her guard down for the next couple months, a little shapeshifter decided that her small town would be the perfect place to stir some trouble.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"I'm Agent Adam Clayton, and this is my partner Agent Larry Mullen. We're with the FBI. We'd like to ask you a couple questions about a couple customers you've had."

Y/n stared wearily at the two men who had entered her shop. Just by reading their minds she could tell their names were false, especially since they were the same names as the band members from U2. However, she didn't comment on it, considering they were partially telling the truth about asking questions of her customers.

"What have my customers done to get attention from the FBI?" Y/n asked curiously, although she continuously kept reading their minds for answers.

"Just a couple of them have gone missing ma'am. We're hoping you could give us any clues as to where they've gone."

Getting enough answers from reading the tall one's mind (he thought a lot and his thoughts were practically screaming at her) she nodded at them. Hunters that hunt and kill the supernatural? Y/n guessed they were the hero equivalent in this world. The only question left would be if they would kill her if they found out she was also a 'witch.' "So, which customers?"

"Robert Dunn, Todd Alexander, and Philip Navarro." the shorter one answered her. They watched her as she continued to walk around her shop, watering her plants.

Y/n took her time to recall them, "Well, the three of them were all from out of town. We've never had that many visitors before so it was easy to remember them. They all liked to talk too." Y/n frowned at the thought of those conversations she had with them. But now that she actually thought about it, the thoughts of the 3 customers were somewhat similar.

The taller one, catching Y/n's frown, continued to question her. "What did they talk about?"

"You know, simple 'What's your name?' or 'Could I get your number?' They were all particularly flirty."

"So would you say no if I asked for your number?" 'Adam Clayton' couldn't help but comment, getting elbowed by 'Larry Mullen.' Wow, these boys really reminded Y/n of Stephen and Loki.

"I'd tell you the same response I told those men. I'm not interested in a relationship right now. Taking a break from that." Y/n handed 'Adam' a yellow tulip. At the questioning look, Y/n answered him, "So you don't feel too bad. Yellow tulips mean joy and a whole lot of other things."

"Do you give every man you reject a yellow tulip?" 'Adam' pouted causing Y/n to grin slightly.

"Well, any type of yellow flowers work. Yellow flowers in general symbolize spreading happiness and joy."

"Sorry- about the men? What happened after that?" 'Larry' steered them back on track.

"Oh, they all left the store looking somewhat upset but also giddy. Philip said he'd be back to try again though he hasn't been back in a week already."

'Larry' nodded, seemingly getting all the information he wanted and thanking Y/n politely before taking 'Adam' with him to stop him from flirting any further with Y/n.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"So the only connection right now is Y/n, but why?" Sam questioned, going through a book he had borrowed at Y/n's store earlier.

"She's a hot chick. Who wouldn't go and take a chance to ask her out?" Dean replied, happily munching on a burger as he sat on the couch of their motel room.

"You think she's the one who's been killing them?" Sam asked, "It's a possibility."

"Remember what Philip told her?" Dean reminded Sam, "He'd be back to try again. Pretty creepy if you ask me."

"So a shapeshifter?"

"Bingo!"

"That seems a little far fetched, Dean."

"Hey, all we gotta do is watch the chick and then we'll figure out if it's her or if it's a shapeshifter. Easy solution! Or we could get access to her security cameras."

Sam grunted as he closed the book, flopping onto his bed. "She doesn't have any. I checked. Please tell me you at least find that suspicious."

"Hey, maybe she can't afford them! Town's pretty small, her shop's pretty small, she might not get a lot of income, you know?" Dean stood up, walking to the door, "I'm gonna get a drink, wanna come?"

Sam didn't respond and Dean took that as a no, leaving for the nearest bar. He kept walking to the bar he saw close-by, but just as he turned the corner, a fist hit his face and he blacked out.

As Dean came back into consciousness, he was greeted by the sight of Philip shedding his skin and forming into himself. Damn, he was right. It was a shapeshifter. The shapeshifter merely glanced at the tied up Dean, glaring deadly holes into him. "She's mine..!" he hissed at Dean, leaving the cold room.

Looking around the room, he saw the bodies of the other men, too late to save them. Philip however, laid unconscious on the floor. Dean could see however that the Shapeshifter had injured Philip greatly and that if he did not get any help right away, he could die. Frantically working at the ropes, Dean could only hope that Sam would get to Y/n on time. (However, Sam was fast asleep, blissfully unaware of what had happened).

Y/n didn't think it was normal of 'Adam' to come knocking at her door, especially at the middle of the night when the store was most definitely closed. She peaked from the safety of her window, using her magic to be invisible just in case she were to be spotted.

'Adam' was filled with possessive thoughts that automatically told Y/n something was wrong. As she shuffled through 'Adam's' memories, she found that most were not there, some floating around, the most recent one being tied up in some kind of basement.

"Hey Miss Y/n...? Are you here?" a shy astral ghost of a child appeared behind her. It was a ghost Y/n had met recently a few weeks ago. At the voice, Y/n moved away from the window and reappeared. "Yes, dear?"

The child stumbled back a bit in surprise but quickly calmed down, looking at her. "Remember how I said what I wanted most was for my dad to visit my grave at least once?"

"Yes?" Y/n whispered quietly back to the child, motherly instincts taking over as she looked at the child gently.

"I changed my mind. He needs help right now. That's what I want most. For dad to live." The ghost child looked at Y/n with determination and Y/n couldn't help but answer their plea.

"Lead the way."

Sneaking out of the house via the backdoor, Y/n followed the ghost child to the other side of town, going into the forest near their town and was led to a cabin. Inside the cabin was a simple bunk bed and a large chest. Nothing inside the cabin seemed to have been used in a while. The only thing that indicated someone- something lived here was the vase filled with yellow flowers at the window sill.

"Here. He's down there." The ghost pointed at the chest, before floating through it and disappearing. Using her magic, Y/n easily pulled the chest out of the way and revealed a passageway with a ladder heading straight down into the darkness. Not seeing her ghost friend, Y/n continued heading down, deeper and deeper until she reached the floor.

It was cold down here. The lights were dim and flickered occasionally, but it was clear that it was being powered by electricity somehow. "This way, this way." The ghost child urged, pointing down the hallway.

Quickly, Y/n rushed, her footsteps echoing as she ran. As she made it to the end of the hallway she saw two corpses, an unconscious Philip and Dean who was looking at her in shock.

"So I'm guessing you're the real 'Adam'?" Y/n asked, although already knowing the answer. She went towards him, untying the ropes as fast as she could. Before Dean could suspect her or say anything Y/n continued to speak, "There was someone who looked like you at my door, but when I zoomed in with my phone to check who it was from the window, your eyes were white." Y/n lied, using the information she knew about shapeshifters to her advantage, "I'm pretty sure that's not exactly normal."

Dean grinned, "Sweetheart, there's a lot of things that aren't normal."

Picking up Philip, the two rushed out of the cabin, not willing to stay any longer to face the shapeshifter. Dean didn't have any gear, and he couldn't risk the lives of two innocent people. However, they didn't make it very far as the Dean clone confronted them in the forest, staring intensely at Y/n.

"Ma'am, back away from the shapeshifter, right now! Don't let it trick you!" the Dean clone shouted at Y/n. If Y/n couldn't read minds, she surely would have felt conflicted right now as Dean also told her,

"He's trying to trick you. Trust me, I'm the real deal. I- I know that sounds bad- but I promise. I'm a hunter. My real name is Dean."

The Dean clone took a step closer causing Y/n to turn to him. "Don't come closer. Mr. Philip needs help right now. I don't care whoever you are as long as he gets help."

Dean, taking advantage of the standstill, grabbed Y/n's hand and started to run, carrying Philip. The motel was nearby, hopefully they could make it and grab Sam's attention somehow.

But the clone was fast. Y/n's eyes narrowed as her other arm was grabbed and she decided that she's had enough. Using her magic she blasted the shapeshifter back. Dean looked at her in shock and fear, but Y/n didn't mind. Those kinds of looks weren't new to her.

"Dean you're a hunter. Do I have to kill the guy or no?" Y/n asked, snapping Dean out of it.

"You're a witch-"

"It's a yes or no question Dean." Y/n snapped, watching blankly as the shapeshifter stood up and began to approach them again, angered.

Taking a step, it jumped at Dean, causing Dean to blurt out a quick "yes!" before the shapeshifter was stopped, floating mid-jump at Dean. The shapeshifter turned to ashes in front of his eyes and Dean turned to look at Y/n with an impassive look.

"I've heard that hunters usually kill witches or anything supernatural, but please get Mr. Philip help first before you decide to kill me."

And with that, Y/n left to her small store, packing up her things in a dimensional pocket. She trusted that Dean would get Philip the help he needed. She just needed to get out of here. If she couldn't convince Dean to not kill her, she would go to another world before he could.

As she quickly finished packing up, the small ghost child appeared before her.

"Thank you for saving dad." the shy ghost looked at the ground, as if blushing from embarrassment.

"It's no problem dear. He was important to you, right? It's important to always care and look out for family." Y/n looked at the ghost kindly, recalling her own family. Reaching out her hand to hold the young ghost's, Y/n gently whispered to them. "I believe it's time for you to rest now, dear."

A reaper appeared next to them, patiently waiting.

"...Will it hurt?"

Y/n smiled at the ghost, reassuring them, "It won't. It'll feel like waking up from a dream."

The shy ghost hugged her tightly, thanking her, before taking the hand of the reaper and disappearing with it. Y/n sighed, relieved that the child was finally at peace. At least they could have the peace Y/n longed for. A gun clicked behind her head. Y/n didn't turn around.

"Explain."

From the voice, Y/n could tell it was the taller brother. 'Larry,' or Sam, had seen, or rather heard the whole interaction. From what he could tell, Y/n was talking to an invisible ghost or spirit and helped it move on to the afterlife. A much different tactic to their usual salt and burn.

"About who I am or what I just did?" Y/n asked.

"Both." Dean came in behind Sam, staring at the witch.

"Hm, well... I'm from a different universe..."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It wasn't easy, but Sam and Dean believed her story. But even after that they didn't completely trust her, which was understandable. But at least they liked her enough to keep calling to use her books for research, to get extra information for hunts, or for Dean to just get a pie (he would never admit it but Y/n's pies were the best he's ever had).

Y/n was allowed to live in her small town, as long as she promised not to kill anyone or the brothers swore to come back to kill her. But as they kept calling her over and over again to help with more and more hunts, she found herself being invited to live in the Bunker with them.

Some days were odd.

Some days the brothers seemed like they hated her and everything witches.

But most days they enjoyed her company. They enjoyed that there was something out there that was supposed to be bad, but was actually good.

And ever so slowly they got used to her magic.

One time Dean had walked in on her using magic in the kitchen. Tools and ingredients were flying places, a bowl was stirring itself. Y/n was at the oven taste testing some sort of soup. Dean felt like he was having a Harry Potter moment. At Dean's awkward cough, Y/n jumped back slightly and lifted her head.

"Oh! Sorry, were you hungry? Um... the kitchen is kinda occupied right now, but you could have this pie!"

At her words, a pie found itself in a very happy Dean's hands. "What are you making?"

"Some miso soup. I was craving it so I decided to make it. I didn't want to go out."

"So then where'd you get this pie?"

"Oh, I had a feeling you were going to want one later, so I made it earlier!"

Touched by her kindness, Dean nodded, grateful, but he didn't want to be sappy so he happily left with his pie. Y/n chuckled to herself as she heard Dean's thoughts praising her and her pie.

Sam had come to enjoy their conversations on the supernatural. As he had found out, despite being a witch, Y/n had very basic knowledge on the supernatural world and mostly got her information from her books. So, Sam had taken it upon himself to teach Y/n about the most common and dangerous, and most importantly how to kill it.

Sam had been very careful to teach Y/n about the witch-killing spell and bullets. He had nearly freaked when Y/n went and held a bullet, observing it closely before taking it apart with her magic.

"-so these are the bullets and- WAIT NO Y/N IT'LL KILL YOU!" Sam panicked, lunging towards her as Y/n took the bullet apart. Hearing the yell, Dean came running.

"What's happening!?"

At that moment Sam crashed into the couch Y/n was sitting on as she dodged him.

Y/n chuckled, "I'm fine, this won't hurt me. You told me the ingredients, remember? When combined together, yes, they do kill witches. But they won't kill witches like me."

Y/n poked at the bullet before putting it back together and placing the bullet in the case, which Sam immediately closed and put away. "Let's not do that again. E-Even if it won't- I just, I don't want to risk it."

Seeing how much she had made Sam worry, Y/n put her hand gently on Sam's. "I'm sorry Sam. I didn't mean to worry you."

Sam sighed, gently clasping Y/n's hands, "It's alright... you're good. I just... don't want..."

"I know... thank you..." Y/n smiled.

"Aww, look at the two love birds~ get a room already!"

"DEAN SHUT UP!"

However there was a day that Y/n truly treasured. It was the day that both brothers finally put their complete trust in Y/n. This happened during a hunt.

They had quickly figured out it was a ghost and brought Y/n with them so they could finish up quick, but the ghost was more tricky to deal with than they had originally thought.

The ghost was a woman who had been cremated, so there were no remains they could burn. They still had to identify what object the ghost was attached to. It had moved from city to city, so it must have been an object easy to bring along.

Quite easily they could tell it was a vengeful spirit as there was a pattern going on. Mothers were the target, whether they still had kids or not didn't matter apparently. As long as you were a mother at one point (or pregnant), the ghost would come and attack. From what they could get as pretending to be the FBI, the children had seen the ghost that attacked their moms, but the description of the ghost varied from child to child. One thing stayed consistent however, the ghost never touched the kids. At times the ghost had reassured them that everything was okay, that she would take care of them.

As they researched (Sam and Y/n researched, Dean ate on the motel bed), Y/n couldn't help but feel... worried? Sympathetic?

Just from looking at the ghost's targets, Y/n could tell the ghost was a mother at one point in their lives. The ghost was like her, desperate to find and keep her family. Her children. But unlike the ghost, Y/n had learned how to grow from the pain. She had reached the acceptance part in the 5 stages of grief. Yes, she missed her husband and children, but she continued on, knowing that they would be loved and would continue to be loved.

Noticing Y/n spacing out, Dean called out to her. "Hey witchy, you doing okay?"

Y/n looked up at him, "I think I need a break. I'm gonna go for a walk. Wanna come? Sam?"

Dean leaned further into the pillows, "Nah, I'm just gonna relax here."

Sam scowled, "Or you could be helpful and come over here!" to which Dean let out another "nope!" before turning his music up even louder. Sam groaned, "I'm good Y/n, I want to keep researching."

Nodding Y/n left the motel room, taking in the fresh air as she walked.

What she didn't know was that the object the ghost was attached to was in their motel room, and Y/n had left the brothers just before chaos happened.

Not sure if I want to keep writing this because it was just a quick thought I had. Let me know if you'd like a part 2!

Edit: Part 2 has been posted!

Next >

77 notes · View notes

lemonbooties · 10 months

Text

1. Blood Oath | Choso ੭﹕ ̊ ̟ ꒷꒦

by lemonbooties

Find my work on AO3, Wattpad and Quotev here!

Summary

You and Choso swear a blood oath to protect you and keep you happy as children. What you and Choso don’t know is that you accidentally made a binding vow due to Choso’s cursed body. Upon learning of this, you take advantage of his “blood oath” to you.

Slight AU where Choso is a Jujutsu Tech student along with Yuji and everyone. Choso was resurrected shortly before Yuji was born because Kenjaku, as Kaori, thought Yuji could benefit from a sibling. Since Kaori had a limited amount of time before Yuji was born and her resources were limited, Choso was accidentally born into a child-aged body instead of a fully grown body in the show. Kaori adapted to this change and convinced Jin Itadori to “adopt” Choso by introducing him as a orphaned family member of hers. We’ll just all be delusional and pretend Wasuke Itadori was left with Choso and Yuji.

*Kechizu and Eso are never revived as Kenjaku had no use for them at that time and was frustrated that Choso’s birth was a “failure” in her eyes.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Chapter 1: Confusion

You waited patiently for your best friend, Yuji Itadori, outside of the Occult Club classroom, rocking back and forth on the heels and toes of your shoes. You did this every day, your own club normally getting out a bit sooner than Yuji’s. You didn’t mind though, it gave you a bit of extra time to take care of any after-school business and say goodbye to your classmates. Yuji was normally done by the time you finished saying goodbye to everyone. Today, he was not.

Yuji’s older brother, Choso, was two grades above you. He would usually wait with you. However, Choso was already at the hospital with his and Yuji’s Grandfather, Wasuke Itadori. The school had granted him leave from club duties as long as he was caring for their guardian.

This had been happening the previous school year as well, right when their Grandpa’s health started declining. You and Yuji had been in Junior High when this happened whereas Choso was already attending High School. The school had been surprisingly accommodating to the Itadori family, much to Wasuke’s dismay. All he wanted was for the boys to enjoy their youth, never one for their doting.

Choso, on the other hand, was all about doting. You remember when you were children, you had fallen off of the jungle gym near your house. You scraped your hands pretty bad, blood pooling in your palms. You had cried and cried while Yuji and Choso tried desperately to calm you down. This was the first time your parents had allowed you all to go to the park unsupervised and they didn’t want to worry your parents.

Choso had done the most, putting on a brave face. He had pretended to defeat the playground before exclaiming, “No one hurts my family!” When he had wacked his toy sword against the metal structure enough to make you laugh, he told both you and Yuji that he would protect you both, no matter what. Yuji had smiled brightly, vowing to also protect you. You know now that he was just imitating his older brother but Choso had actually meant it.

Choso had held up his hand, a bit of blood trickling down his wrist. “Oops.” He had said, shrugging. “I must have held my sword a little too tight.” You laughed and said something about matching but Choso had taken your hand, gripping it tightly. “I swear I’ll protect you and make you happy, Y/N. Nobody hurts my family.” Yuji had piped up too, reiterating his brother’s sentiment. You all smiled for the rest of the day, Choso playing protector on the playground with you guys until it was time to go home.

You were brought out of your thoughts by the student council president storming down the hall. He gave you a curt nod of acknowledgment, you bowed slightly in response as he slammed open the classroom door next to you and began yelling.

“OCCULT RESEARCH CLUB!” He yelled, pushing his glasses further up his nose as if it was an intimidation tactic. After some ruckus in the classroom, Coach Takagi joined them and after some more yelling, Yuji, followed by everyone inside made their way down the hallway. Yuji yelled for you to follow. You had no clue what was happening but you figured it had something to do with Coach Takagi harassing Yuji to join the Track and Field team.

When you all arrived at the field, the whole team gathered around as Coach Takagi explained that he and Yuji would be competing. Yuji was competing to be in the Occult Club while Takagi was competing for Yuji to join Track and Field. Rather quickly, the crowd grew and watched as Yuji absolutely decimated Coach Takagi, winning the bet and was allowed to stay with the Occult Club. The look on Coach Takagi’s face caused a lot of students to laugh and take out their phones for pictures.

Yuji had a brief conversation with his Occult Club members before he noticed the time. “Y/N! We need to go!” He called to you as he ran to grab his bag from where he threw it before the throwing competition. He briskly jogged towards you, joining you as you both started to walk off campus. As you both walked out of the crowd, you noticed someone out of the corner of your eye.

Looking over, you met eyes with a kid, probably around your guys’ age. He had black spiky hair and was wearing a nice button up and slacks. He was pretty cute and looked a bit like Choso, his hair spiky the same way Choso’s was when he put it up. However, the sour expression he wore definitely turned you off of thinking he was cute. You wondered why he was scowling at you and Yuji but you just brushed it off, assuming he smelt something rancid or remembered something annoying.

At the gate, Yuji turned to you and clasped his hands together. “Would you mind walking home with another friend today? I’m running pretty late because of Coach so I really need to get home before going to the hospital.” He pleaded. Whenever Yuji wanted something from you, he pouted and looked at you with huge eyes. He started doing this when it worked once. It’s never worked since.

“Only because I respect your Grandfather.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m fine walking home alone today. But you better not be late.” Your pink-haired friend said a quick thank you before he fake saluted and took off. You heard someone call for him to wait and you looked to see the scowling boy running after Yuji. You thought it was super weird but it was almost dinner time at home so you started walking. He was probably just a fan of Yuji’s after that display with Coach Takagi.

Once home, your parents greeted you. Dinner wasn’t quite done yet so you went to your room before grabbing some clothes and a towel for a bath. Letting your parents know you were taking a bath, they told you that they had already ran a bath for you. Thanking them, you hurried to the bathroom so you could be done before dinner.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

After dinner, you had promised some friend’s in your club you would check out a CD they recommended. Popping it into your stereo, you played it as you prepared to start your homework. The first track was pretty good and you actually felt your head bobbing along with the catchy melody. You opened your bag and looked at the assortment of notebooks and textbooks inside. You always worked with your least favorite subject first before ending with your favorite. Pulling the math notebook from your bag, you decided to start with it.

The first few problems weren’t that difficult but you found yourself growing increasingly frustrated as they grew harder. Soon, you were angrily erasing your work for the third time, unsure of why this problem was so much harder than the rest. You desperately needed a break and stretched. Getting up, you gathered a water bottle you had on your desk before starting to head to the kitchen. You shot a quick text to Yuji to ask him about the homework, hoping he would answer soon and help you.

Heading down the hall, you hear your father talking to someone rather quickly. You can’t quite understand what he’s saying, partially because he’s talking so fast but also, he’s a little of out of your earshot. You walk further down the hall until you’re on the other side of the living room wall. “Please, I haven’t been active for years. I’ve done everything he wanted. Why is he doing this now? I have a family, a daughter. It’s been over fifteen years. I even suppressed his offspring’s cursed technique for 15 years. I allowed them to play with my daughter, putting her in danger her whole life. Why now?”

His words rang through your head. What is he talking about? Active in what? Cursed technique? Your heart started to pound in your chest. Was your father in a gang? You were about to peek around the corner when another voice caused you to stop. His words echoed through you, the overwhelming dread halting you.

“I’m just fulfilling a favor I owed him. He didn’t give any more details.” It spoke.

A million questions raced through your head, your heart beating so hard you thought it might explode. ‘Why am I so afraid?’ You wondered, clutching desperately at your chest to try and slow your heartbeat. Your heart was pounding painfully now, your body crying out for you to run. But from what?

After those words, a silence filled the space. You heard your father quietly sniffling. Was he crying? He was pleading, “please.” He cried, over and over until he was cut off by an unpleasant ripping sound. Your father screamed followed by a wet slosh and a splash. Running into the living room, you entire world shattered as you watched your father explode at the hands of a blue-haired man.

Your own scream alerted him to your presence and he whipped his head towards you. There were three lines of stitches on his face and on his neck. Other lines of stitching lined his body and his eyes were two different colors. He smiled maniacally, his face contorted in a sick display of pleasure. Did he enjoy what he just did?

Standing tall, he started to walk towards you but before he could close the distance, you both heard a car door close outside of your house. Both of you looked at the front door and time froze. This might be your only chance to not end up like your father. You gripped your phone and darted towards the front door, hoping whoever was here could help you. If they couldn’t, you’d at least have a chance to call authorities.

Throwing the door open, you practically flew out of the house and straight into someone. In an instant, you were shoved behind them as they entered your house to see what had you so frightened. You peered inside behind them and saw that the blue-haired man had disappeared, the only thing you could see inside was your father’s blood splattered against the wall. You forced yourself to look away, not being able to digest what happened just yet.

“What happened?” Asked the figure in the doorway. They turned around and you finally got a look at the man who possibly saved you. At the very least, he scared away your father’s murderer. He was big, his athletic frame donned with a dark tracksuit. His hair was short and spiky with the sides shaved. You couldn’t tell if he was even looking at you due to the sunglasses he wore. His facial features were sharp yet obviously aging a bit and he had some of facial hair.

You tried to find the words but only managed to ask, “Is my father dead?” His body relaxed a bit as he placed a hand on your shoulder. “Yes, it seems as if your mother was also involved. You have my deepest sympathy, your father was a good man.” Your body felt paralyzed. Your parents were dead. Your mother was killed while you sat in your room. You were listening to music, unable to hear the atrocity happening in your house. You were frustrated about math as your family was being slaughtered.

The man in front of you was talking but you didn’t hear him. At some point, you felt your legs give out. The man tried to help you stand but gave up and carried you to the car he arrived in. Once inside, you slumped into the seat, unable to understand why this happened. What was that blue-haired man talking about? Why did he kill your father? Your mother?

You felt yourself drift off, your body and mind absolutely exhausted from what just happened. You just had to trust that the strange man who may or may not be there to help wouldn’t kill you as you slept.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

You didn’t know what time it is when you woke up but when you open your eyes, you’re still in the car and it’s day again. “Good morning.” You look to the source of the greeting and see the man again. You nod in his direction before sitting all the way up and wiping the bit of drool at the corner of your mouth.

“Where are we?” You ask, not recognizing the passing surroundings. The man crossed his arms, “On the way to Tokyo.” He grunted. “Sorry, I never got the chance to introduce myself. I’m Masamichi Yaga, an old friend of your father’s”

“He never mentioned you.” You retort, a little upset about him bringing up your recently deceased father. You quickly glance at your phone, hoping to catch the time but a blank display greets you. Your phone must have died. You slightly curse yourself for not plugging it in when you got home but how were you supposed to know that you wouldn’t have access to a phone charger.

“It’s 7:13.” Yaga told you. “And it’s no surprise he didn’t mention me. He had a problem with my, um, lifestyle.” You really didn’t have the energy to deal with his explanations but you needed an answer. “What lifestyle? You ask.

“I’ll try to keep this short as I’ll give you a full explanation later, when we arrive in Tokyo. I am a Jujutsu Sorcerer.” Yaga paused and pushed his sunglasses up on his nose, giving you the perfect opportunity to ask, “Jujutsu?” He nodded.

“I’m taking you to my school, Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School. I’m the principal and a long time ago, I made a promise to look after you in case something happened to your father.” Your head was spinning. So he did really know your dad, but how? And a school? What is this guy after?

“Why are we just now leaving Sendai? Wasn’t my family attacked last night?” You asked. Tokyo was about four hours from Sendai City, if you had left last night, you’d already be in Tokyo. “There was another situation I had to attend to regarding one of my students. I also had to make arrangements to clean up your house. I grabbed you some clothes and other essentials, I wasn’t sure what all you would’ve wanted but you wouldn’t wake up when we tried.”

“So my family…” You swallowed before asking, “they’re really gone?” Yaga took a moment to respond and when he did, he was quiet.

“Yes.”

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

#fanfic #fanfiction #Choso #jjk choso #choso kamo #choso x reader #x reader #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #reader insert fic #female reader #f!reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfic

31 notes · View notes

rearranged-fanfic · 9 months

Text

Chapter-By-Chapter Part 1; The Prologue - Unfinished Painting

Blog Masterlist

Links:

Read on Archive of Our Own

Read on Wattpad

Read on Quotev

Read on Fanfiction.net

*Spoilers Below*

This fic starts off incredibly melancholy. let's properly set the tone, shall we?

"When death strikes, it’s sometimes a long, slow cut. And sometimes, it’s swift as the blink of an eye. It does so efficiently, without remorse, and without discernment. We all die, in the end."

This is the opening paragraph, the reader's first impression of the story and of our protagonist. We cut to Reader-chan (our Reader Avatar) in the hospital directly after her mother's death. There's a sense of shock and upset, but ultimately, resignation.

We know from the story that her mom had been sick for a while.

"It wasn’t sudden, nor was it unexpected. Mom had been sick for a very, very long time."

"Mom’s death had been a slow cut, festering over months and months until it was long overdue."

This is something she's been preparing for quite some time now. But there's still the undercurrent that she's not dealing well. You'll notice that she has no support structure; there are no others in the hospital with her.

Reader-chan is very much alone. She has few friends, and most of her family is distant or has since passed on.

"I was nineteen when I was made an orphan."

"After Dad had died unexpectedly from COVID complications..."

"And then [the younger sister] become an adult. And she’d left me behind without a backwards glance."

I know you're thinking, 'Author-san', why would you give us such a depressing start? This is so sad'. And, primarily, it's to ease the transition when Reader-chan transmigrates to the JJK world. If she'd have had a family who loved her and supported her, would she have wanted to stay in her new world - which, in this story, is portrayed in an incredibly dark way? For me? I'd say not. I'd claw and scrape and scream to get back to my family, hot fictional men be damned.

When isekai stories have protagonists that just go 'this is my life now', it really tanks my immersion. Especially when they're supposed to be serious dramas. Comedies are a little less glaring, because there's a suspension of disbelief that allows me to excuse more. But dramas? Oh boy, if you have family in your old world, you'd miss them too.

So, her losses before the start of the main story justify her lack of desire to return home - because it is something she struggles with in the first few chapters. Not only that, but it also reinforces her mental strength. She lost her dad and mom within a few years of each other and her sister is globe-trotting, so what could I possibly throw at her that's comparatively worse?

A character that has less to lose or less to return to is easier to manipulate emotionally for the author. There are less hangups, less connections to keep in mind, and less loose ends to tie up when the isekai inevitably ends.

Not only that, but the grief she experiences gives readers an immediate point of connection with her. Most everybody can identify with the loss of a loved one. Whether it's a parent, grandparent, or sibling that has passed away or simply lost touch, that sort of mental anguish resonates with humanity on an intrinsic level. We, as the readers, see her pain and understand it.

And we want to see her pick herself back up and move on from this.

We go from the hospital to her apartment, where she unpacks the last of her mother's belongings.

Reader-chan reveals that she'd been taking care of her mother before her death, for some unknown amount of time. And, in doing so, had let her own life fall by the wayside.

"I’d been able to see my ribs at one point, and my collar bones had become pronounced in the v-necks of my shirts."

"I’d neglected other things, too."

"An easel and canvas lay covered in the corner of the room, doing little more than collecting dust. [...] My book collection was little more than decoration at this point, too."

"I’d just lost my job. [...] I’d gotten fired for taking care of her."

"I wasn’t exactly qualified to do anything else, since I’d dropped out of college [to take care of her mother]."

Things like her health, career, future goals, hobbies, and interests were all discarded. Reader-chan, in dedicating her life to her mom, had completely derailed it.

This is the characterization we get of Reader-chan: she's toxically altruistic. Reader-chan is an incredibly kind person. She's hard-working, fiercely loyal, and selfless. This is to set up not only her desire to save those around her, but her own personal conflict within the story itself.

She can easily be viewed as a doormat, letting others take advantage of her. She bends under pressure, gives pieces of herself with terrifyingly little asked in return, and is unconcerned about her own wellbeing. Which is... very much not okay.

Despite this, we see that she's surprisingly resilient when faced with seemingly-insurmountable odds.

"And I resolved that I was going to go back into the store and talk to my boss"

"I could’ve started doing murals for the businesses in town again. [...] I could’ve paint windows for offices or the brickwork facades downtown, or done commissions for smaller pieces [to pay for her expenses]."

Reader-chan almost immediately starts to make plans to get back up onto her own two feet. Which shows that she's mature for her age, and able to deal appropriately with setbacks as they come. She's also not prone to getting overwhelmed and giving up.

Cut away again, and we find her in the parking lot of her old job, intent on talking to her boss to get it back. And she's trying in vain to get a hold of her distant sister.

She leaves a voicemail, to no avail. And for the first time, we see her truly angry...

"Snapping in anger, gripped the phone so hard that the fragile class façade threatened to break. Part of me hoped it would, that spiderweb cracks overtook it and the screen shattered in my grasp. So I’d lose her number and never have to call her again. Then I’d never have to see her again, either."

... and her immediate regret.

"I’d never see her again, just like Dad. Just like Mom."

"Was that what I really wanted? … Maybe not."

Because, despite the fact that her sister left her behind, she still very much loves her. And, if she cuts her sister loose, she really will be all alone.

I included a strained sibling relationship because, initially, I wanted there to be something that Reader-chan would be conflicted about. Should she rekindle her relationship with her sister - forgive, forget, and move on? Or should she hold a grudge in her heart, even if it leaves her miserable?

When she gets isekai'd, the conflict becomes: should she put forth the effort return home to her sister, knowing that their relationship is only hanging by a thread, or resign herself to her fate in her new universe?

We catch a glimpse of fandom. We know that Reader-chan enjoys a myriad of media, but that it's fallen by the wayside in recent months.

"Only a few manga volumes had been touched, when I’d take them to the hospital to read with Mom; she’d liked looking at the pictures."

"On the rearview mirror, little chibis of my favorite anime characters hang and jingle together."

I made eye contact with tiny Tsunade from Naruto [...] the blindfolded gaze of Gojo [...] next to Levi Ackerman.

So we know that she has a keen interest in manga, specifically, judging from her collection and from the characters she keeps in her car.

After getting off the phone, frustrated and angry with her sister, she attempts to calm herself down by reading through her curated stories page. Which leads to this:

"And I saw a headline titled 'JJK: Fan-Favorite Character Killed in Battle', with a picture of Sukuna next to it."

"Out of curiosity, I clicked on the article and scrolled down, looking for the manga panels in question."

"Because it wasn’t Sukuna dead. Gojo Satoru had been bisected, cut clean through, and left in a pool of his own blood."

Reader-chan reacts like this:

"“Th-that’s not possible, right?” I inhaled through my nose. Out through my mouth. Trying to calm myself."

"I stared at [the tiny Gojo keychain] for a bit, and yanked his chain off the mirror, tossing him into the back seat where I couldn’t look at him anymore. Then I pressed my face into the backs of my hands and screamed at the top of my lungs."

"Because the universe was so fucking funny that it had to play some sort of cosmic joke on me. Because Gege killing off that character just had to happen now!"

Up until now, we've seen her handle everything with a surprising amount of grace. We can tell that she's deeply upset by the loss of her mother, sure, but she's putting on quite the brave face. Or maybe she's simply too shocked to be anguished. yeah... definitely the second option.

"I watched the doctors rush around like I was a thousand miles away, observed from outside of my body as they tried in vain to bring [her mother] back from beyond the threshold."

"I went about my motions like I was piloting myself remotely."

"Even as I unpacked her stuff, I didn’t cry. I was just… empty, I guess. Too tired, or maybe too shocked."

"I still didn’t cry. Not when my whole world was collapsing around me."

But the moment she reads about Gojo's death, it acts as the metaphorical straw. And she's the camel.

"Unable to help myself, I laughed. I laughed so hard that my shoulders shook. And I laughed so hard that the laughs turned to sobs, and then to wails."

"I cried."

"It was ugly, and violent, and so stupid. [...] I cried for what felt like hours."

Initially, I was kind of wary of putting this chapter out into the world because of this moment. Because, yeah, her mom died, but she's going to cry over an anime character? That's the criticism I honestly expected.

"I was an idiot, losing it over some fake guy when I couldn’t even shed a tear for the woman who’d raised me. And though I tried to stop, the waterworks kept coming and coming and coming."

But it makes sense in my mind, because we humans displace our emotions all the time. We get irrationally angry or sad at things and take our emotions out on them. Have a bad day at work? Get mad and kill something on a videogame. Upset? Watch a sad movie and cry about it.

I do this with 'The Fox and The Hound' all the time! I'll put it on and just weep until my eyes and head hurt. And, man, does it feel good! Like, on the days when my emotions are going haywire, like when I'm on my period, I just want to vent.

Gojo's death isn't what makes her sad enough to finally cry, but it gives her the perfect outlet for her emotions. It's a way for her to finally experience the emotional devastation of losing her mom without touching on the raw wound itself. It's a catharsis that she so desperately needs.

Crying really does help her. Sometimes, all you need is a good breakdown to realign your axis.

"And, little by little, I came back to myself."

"In the aftermath, there was a bit of clarity, of peace. The buildup and the release of pressure. [...] Weight lifted off my shoulders and I felt a levity that I hadn’t in months. [...] I felt like I could breathe again. Like my lungs were expanding properly and my heart was beating in my chest instead of my throat."

"Turns out that crying is good for you; who’d have guessed?"

After she cries, she picks herself back up and resolves to push forward. Starting with getting her job back, then ending with possibly rekindling a relationship with her sister.

This is one of my favorite parts of this little chapter because it perfectly encapsulates the whole vibe of 'post-nut clarity'... but for sobbing like a crazy person, obviously. Like, we all have that moment after we cry where everything just sorta clicks into place.

Reader-chan, for a solid moment, is standing tall. And she's putting her own emotions and needs first.

She calls her sister, getting out of her car. And while she's leaving a voicemail, she finally meets her fate.

"But I never got to finish my ultimatum. The screeching of tires cut me off as I whirled around just in time to see the grill of a large truck barreling toward me. And then there was the sickening crunch of bones breaking and somebody screaming."

This is where the isekai truly begins. Because when she dies, she winds up in a black void. And this void is where the next chapter opens.

We have a callback to our first paragraph.

"When death strikes, it’s sometimes a long, slow cut. And sometimes, it’s swift as the blink of an eye. It does so efficiently, without remorse, and without discernment. We all die, in the end."

Keen observers may also notice that prior to being run down, the story is in past tense. Everything past getting struck is in present tense. This is to reinforce the idea that Reader's old universe and life are permanently 'was', while her new world and life permanently 'are'. A little bit of author psychology for you guys.

There's also one of my favorite side stories ever in this: 'The Saga of The Shopping Cart'!

"I scowled when one person pushed their empty cart into another parking spot instead of the cart return. Idiot."

"A gust of wind blew the loose shopping cart in front of me, and I let it cross before making my way towards the building."

"Because that shopping cart had blown onto the road, in front of a vehicle going way too fast. [...] And in a bid to avoid hitting it, the driver had cranked their wheel. And hit me instead."

I love this introduction chapter, because I feel like it gives us a solid foundation for Reader-chan. We immediately know what her motivations are, how she reacts in the worst situations, and whether or not we'll personally identify with her during the series. It also sets the tone really well, in my opinion: dark and sad with a shining glimmer of hope on the horizon.

The title, 'Unfinished Painting', is a reference to both her neglected work in her apartment and to her life being cut short before she can be fully realized.

"Every morning, I gave [the easel with her painting] a nasty side eye, wondering when I’d just get rid of the stupid thing. Maybe it’d be good to start fresh on a new piece."

"I [..] crossed over to where my easel had remained untouched [...] The painting on the canvas was half-finished, a work-in-progress that’d never quite made “progress”. It was an ambitious landscape painting: colorful sunrise breaking over the Colorado Rocky Mountains, with clouds encircling the highest peaks and rays caressing the jagged edges of the cliff faces. It’d been detailed, almost obsessively so, and vivid."

"I traced the edges of the painting fondly. It was supposed to be my best work yet. And it had been. For a time."

The parallels become even clearer when digging into the color symbolism of red paint.

"[..] in a fit of rage, I’d thrown an entire tube of red paint at [the painting]. Crimson splatters dot the scenic mountains like blood spray."

"All the hopes and dreams inside my head smear across the pavement like paint spatters on a canvas. Just a red, red stain."

But, there's also the implication that death isn't the end. That she can take this and make it better.

"The painting wasn’t necessarily ruined; I could still restore it if I worked hard."

"Maybe it’d be good to start fresh on a new piece. If I ever found inspiration to draw or paint, anyway."

When we consider that 'The painting' is acting as a parallel for her life, it essentially changes this to mean 'My life isn't necessarily ruined; I could still restore it if I worked hard.' And 'Maybe it'd be good to start anew. If I ever found the inspiration to live, anyway.'

Which all points to the idea that a fresh start is, perhaps, a good thing?

All-in-all, I'm super happy with how this turned out. Of course, that could just be my own personal bias, since I wrote it. Who can say?

#REARRANGEDfanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #read on ao3 #read on wattpad #isekai #self insert #chapter by chapter #behind the scenes #writing community #author speaks #self commentary #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x oc

26 notes · View notes

angelofdarknessss · 2 months

Text

Beautiful Sinner

Chapter 2: Nightmare

Previous Part: CH-1

Next Part: Not here! ( •̯́ ₃ •̯̀)

Word Count: 2,679

Main Pairing: Toko Fukawa x Gen!Neutral Reader

Summary: You *just* arrived and you already feel like you're going insane.

Author note: I feel bad for being so late >_< so sorry;; also I lied here is the part but on tumblr ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ for now my fic is active on Ao3 (main), Quotev and here! It's also published on wattpad but I'm not sure If ill update it there too, it is alot of work but I want as many people to read my work as possible sooo I'll try to keep up with it ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊

!!CW:!! Murder is described in this chapter! Starts when you see the "….. ᶻ's " If you want to read past it keep scrolling until you see another pair of " ….. ᶻ's "

You and Sayaka finally made it to the dorms, but not without you observing the other rooms as you passed through the school. It really had everything, you saw a bathhouse, dressing room, laundry room, dining hall, warehouse, and you’re sure there’s more to search later. You’d say its heaven but considering the situation you’re in now…it’s the opposite.

“Ah! Here we are!” Sayaka says happily. You two stood in the hallway between 12 rooms, the others located further down. “Wow, this school wasn’t lying when they said we’d be set for life. There’s a lot of useful stuff here…except for a hair salon. Would’ve loved a room to do my hair with all my materials.” You say with an annoyed sigh.

She giggles. “Aw, don’t be like that y/n! I see you already have some of them, right?” She gestures towards your waist apron with a few basic hair tools. “Well, yes..but that’s not enough to do my or anyone else’s hair!” You whined.

“I’m sure there’s a room with the things you need around here somewhere, after all this school is massive!” She smiles while staring at your hair. “I can tell you take good care of your hair..it’s so pretty.”

You could feel your face burn in embarrassment. Sure, you’ve received compliments about your hair many times but coming from Sayaka, an idol, it made you feel different. Especially since she was so gorgeous. “Oh!..thank you! I appreciate it.”

“Of course!” Her eyes then travel back to the dorms, searching for hers. “Hmm…oh! There’s mine!” She points towards the door on her right, you also took notice of the rooms beside hers. Those being Chihiros and coincidently, Makoto’s.

You stare at it, thinking about Makoto. Is he okay? Is he still asleep? Did something happen to him again? Those thoughts clouded your mind until Sayaka spoke up again. “Worried about Makoto still?” She tilts her head. “Don’t worry y/n, we can check up on him later. For now, should probably let him rest..” She voiced.

“Yeah..yeah you’re right. He must be unconscious still, I guess it’s best to wait until he wakes up.” Speaking of resting…you could really use a good nap right now. Where was your dorm?

You look around for your dorm and eventually spot it in-between Junko and Celeste’s dorm. Resting next to Junko doesn’t seem to bad, as for Celeste…you weren’t sure. You’ve only spoken to her once, maybe you’ll get to know her better later.

“Found my dorm.” You point towards the door with a little pixel you on it. It was kind of cute..you guess. “Perfect!” Sayaka holds her hands together. “Let’s check out our rooms, then we can meet back out here!...if that’s okay with you of course!” She says.

You nod in response. “That’s perfect. I’ll see you in a little bit then.” With that, she nods and heads straight into her dorm and you go into yours. As soon as you stepped inside and closed the door behind you, you realized it’s not like your typical dorm room.

It had…everything useful for a hair stylist!

There were three shampoo systems, three hood dryers, two salon chairs, a shelf filled with multiple hair products, scarfs, shower caps, blow dryers, combs, brushes, hair straighteners and curlers, and so much more..! This school even hooked you up with beautiful bonnets! With these tools you can do everybody’s hair in here…well, not for free.

And…of course there was your bed and bathroom you guess..that’s good too. But the tools is what you cared about the most. Not only did Monokuma hook you up with good hair products, but also some good personal ones too. On the nightstand beside your bed a bottle of shea butter lotion, dove deodorant including the soap, Olay bodywashes and a few perfume options to choose from.

Damn…you really shouldn’t be praising the bastard who put you in this mess but he really knew what specific items you used. It was a little creepy, but nonetheless you appreciate that you won’t be walking around the school looking AND smelling a mess.

“Phuhu~ You like it, stylist?”

“AHH!” You screamed while stumbling backwards, landing on your backside. “Y..you!!”

“Indeed! I am Monokuma!” He giggles into his paws at your reaction. “Didn’t mean to scare you buddy. Anyways…again, do you like your dorm, stylist?” He asks again. “uh…yes..?” You respond, your voice filled with uncertainty.

“You better!” He waddles over to you with his paw pointing at you. “All of these hair products, machines, and personal hygiene were expensive!” He angrily says. “I didn’t know you hair stylists were so high maintenance! I mean granted I have more than enough to buy them all but still! I better see you use every single one of these items, stylist!” He scolds you as if you were his child.

“What the..?!” You get up, now towering over the small Monokuma. “Did you just come to my dorm to yell at me? Get out now!” You yell at him, meanwhile he keeps that same angry expression. “Nuh-uh, you don’t have the power to send me off, kid! And besides…I came to give you this.”

He reaches into his non-existent pocket and hands you what looks like a room key, specifically a key to your dorm. “Your room was the last one I had to prepare, and I realized I forgotten to leave your key inside it.” You take it from him cautiously and slowly, as if he’s going to suddenly bite your hand.

Monokuma giggled at that. “Aw..scared a lil ole me?” He laughs out loud, showing off his sharp teeth. “You should bee~” You huffed in irritation and proceeded to point towards your door. “Just get out already!”

“Fine! Ungrateful brat..” He mummers before disappearing. You were alone again.

You let out a sigh of relief then sat onto your neatly done bed. Before you laid your body down on the soft blanket, your eyes caught a glimpse of a shiny coin on your nightstand. You picked up the coin and examined it…it was…a Monokuma coin?...a monocoin? You scoffed. How ridiculous….. yet, you slipped it into your waist apron. Might be handy later.

“This is so…..ughhh!” You frustratingly screamed, face palming yourself and then laying your back against the soft sheets. What were you going to do? You were trapped with 16 other strangers alongside a psychopathic bear and you could die at any minute! Why…why you of all people? Why did this have to happen to you specifically?

This was bullshit.

You need to take a nap for awhile..maybe for 30 minutes or so. Sayaka won’t mind, right? She knows where you are afterall..hell, she’s probably still looking around in her room. You slowly closed your eyes.

A little…rest…won’t hurt….

Yeah….yeah..you’ll see her in 30 minutes. After a few minutes of pure silence, you drifted off to sleep.

Unfortunately missing the few gentle knocks at your door.

….. ᶻ

………………………. ᶻ 𝗓

……………………………………………………… ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

…ᶻ

……………….ᶻ 𝗓

……………………………………….ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

“Y/n…..” A gentle voice whispered your name, their hand brushing against your cheek like a warm breeze. Exhaustion enveloped you, as if every ounce of energy was being siphoned from your very essence. You found yourself unable to stir, your body feeling heavy and frail.

Your eyes fluttered open, taking in your surroundings. You found yourself in a bathroom, sitting on the floor with your back against the wall, your left arm stained with blood and a fresh stab wound that continued to bleed profusely. As you shifted your gaze downward, you noticed that your right calf was also injured, bearing a matching wound that was equally oozing blood.

Yet, everything felt numb. All you could focus on was the person in front of you clutching a bloodied kitchen knife—Sayaka Maizono. But, she didn’t strike you as someone capable of causing harm, much less taking a life. So… why?

“I’m…I’m sorry!” she cried, her voice trembling as her clearly broken nose leaked blood. “I didn’t want to…to do this..not to you.” Tears streamed down her face, splattering onto your blood-stained shirt. She looked so traumatized, like she hadn’t mean to hurt you in the first place. “It wasn’t..*sniff*..supposed to be you..!”

How did it end up like this?… ‘Sayaka… why?’ was the question you longed to voice, yet all that escaped your lips were only anguished murmurs.

She suddenly clung to you tightly, the knife still firmly in her grasp, tears streaming down her face as she buried her face in your neck. “I’m so sorry…b-but I have to do this…please forgive me!” In one quick movement, she pulled the hand holding the blade away and drove it deep into your abdomen. Your eyes grew wide with shock; a scream threatened to escape your lips, but no sound came.

You could only remain frozen in fear, helplessly observing as your blood seeped through your garments and trickled down your legs. She pulled the knife away, her gaze locking onto yours, realizing you were still alive. “No no no…I’m sorry I’m sorry, I’ll make try to make it quicker…” She cries as she gripped the knife in her hand in guilt. It seemed so cruel to allow you to bleed out slowly, so… she directed her blade towards your neck and drove it in. But instead of taking it out, she let you choke on your own blood.

…This option didn’t seem much better, but you did feel the life being drained from you quicker. You watched her intently as she rose from the floor, her hands stained with blood as she tried to wipe away her tears. The crimson streaks marred her face, and some of it splattered onto her shirt and skirt. The bathroom floor was a gruesome sight, soaked in blood that continued to flow from your fresh abdominal wound, and now with the injury on your neck, your clothes were becoming increasingly tainted.

You made one last desperate attempt to cry out, to call for help, but deep down, you understood there was no hope. The only thing that escaped your quivering lips was blood. Sayaka looked at you, her eyes filled with remorse for a fleeting moment before she stepped out of the bathroom, shutting the door softly behind her, but not before flicking off the light, plunging you into complete darkness.

She left you all alone in the dark to die…how cruel. You thought she was your friend…why..why did it have to be you?

With one final breath, you felt your soul leaving your body finally. Sayaka Maizono murdered you.

If you were still able to talk, what would you ask? Was it worth it?...Would she do it to another classmate if not you?..Did she intend to kill you the moment she saw you?..How would Makoto feel?

Questions that you’ll never get an answer for. Because you no longer existed.

….. ᶻ

… *DING DONG*

………………………. ᶻ 𝗓

………… *DING DONG DING DONG*

……………………………………………………… ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

…………………………… *DING DONG DING DONG DING DONG DING DONG*

“…ugh!!” You shot up from sleep, drenched in sweat and your heart racing wildly in your chest. You propped yourself up, your fingers brushing against your neck and stomach. That dream, or rather, that nightmare, felt incredibly real. Yet, here you were, awake and safe. What on earth was that nightmare about? Why did Sayaka kill you? And why—?

*DING DONG DING DONG DING DONG DING DONG*

“Okay..okay! Stop! I’m coming…” you grumble, feeling a bit irritated as you push yourself off the bed and shuffle toward the door. With a yawn slipping out, you swing the door open. “..Taka?” You murmur. “AH..Y/N!..So THIS is where you’ve been hiding all this time!” He exclaims. “You really worried everyone, you know!...especially Makoto…” he adds, his voice dropping for the last part. “We were all convinced something terrible had happened to you!”

Makoto was worried about you..? wait…He’s awake?? “Wait what—? Makoto is awake?” you exclaim, a blend of shock and relief washing over you.. “Yes, he’s fine… but seriously, why did you think it was okay to nap for an hour and a half without telling anyone?!” he reprimands, prompting you to shoot him an irritated look. “Come on, cut me some slack! I didn’t plan on sleeping that long; I just meant to take a quick nap, but… well, it turned out to be a bit longer than I expected.”

“Clearly!” He states. “Now…please head to the dining hall with me, we’re holding a meeting, and we cannot start without you.”

"Uhm.. I appreciate the offer, but I can make it to the dining hall on my own. I’ll see you there." Just as you were about to shut the door, Taka wedged his foot between the door and the frame. "I really must insist." You give him a long look and let out a resigned sigh. "….fine, just let me freshen up first."

Once you had tidied your hair and brushed off your clothes, you made your way to the dining hall with Taka, feeling a bit reluctant. As you strolled toward the hall, a thought struck you—you had carelessly thrown your waist apron somewhere in the room. You considered turning back to grab it, feeling somewhat exposed without it, but then decided you could always pick it up later

At this moment, you really had to get up to speed with your classmates…who had been busy digging for information while you were asleep…this may end badly for you. They likely put in a ton of effort while you were relaxing in your room…or rather, you wouldn’t exactly call it ‘relaxing’ given the nightmare, but still…

Anywho, you two finally made it to the dining hall and were immediately greeted with everyone eyes on you two, more so you. Everyone sat at the same table except for Toko and Byakuya, who sat at a different, smaller table. Toko wasn’t sitting with him but was standing near him.

And..wait..Kyoko wasn’t there. Strange.

“Y/n! There you are!” Sayaka exclaims, her face lighting up with relief as she jumps up from her chair and rushes over to you, wrapping you in a warm hug with her head against your shoulder. “I..I thought something had happened to you..I tried to ring your door bell but you didn’t answer.” Her voice trails off, and she glances away, a hint of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “So I assumed you had left your room..”

Your breath caught in your throat as she unexpectedly wrapped her arms around you. Every time you laid eyes on her, the haunting nightmare replayed in your mind. A part of you wanted to keep your distance, yet another part ached with sympathy for her; after all, it wasn’t her doing that you had such a terrifying dream. You reassured yourself that it was just the overwhelming stress of the situation, she’s harmless..is what you tell yourself.

"Y/n?" She lifts her head from your shoulder, calling your name softly. “Ah, sorry to scare you Sayaka, I was just sleeping.” you reply, feeling a bit embarrassed as you rub the back of your head. You give her a gentle pat on the back, which brings a warm smile to her face. "No worries! I’m just happy to see you’re okay. By the way, Makoto woke up a little while ago!" She points to him at the table, where he offers you a friendly smile and a wave.

“And guess what? I found out we used to go to the same middle school!” She happily chirps, her face lighting up. “How funny is that? What middle school did you go to? Maybe we have—"

“Sayaka…Y/n!” Taka clears his throat with a loud cough. “Let’s put a pin in this conversation for now; please take a seat!”

Sayaka's shoulders droop a bit as a rosy hue spreads across her cheeks, but she manages a nod. "Alright... um... Y/n?" Releasing her grip on you, she takes your hand gently. "You’ll sit next to me, right?"

6 notes · View notes

tahanann · 2 years

Text

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

❝ To whoever finds these letters, I hope they reach you well ❞ ✎▫✧⭒....

Fandom: Hetalia Relationship: F/M Pairing: Alfred F. Jones (America) / (Female) Reader Chapter list: 00, 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 Also posted on: AO3, Wattpad, Quotev

Chapter 13: " He's gone. " ✎▫✧⭒…

Everything in the world was still right now. The heat had recently swept through (Y/n)'s city, causing an overwhelming amount of warmth in the streets. A slight cold breeze had been a saving grace to the citizens having to deal with the current heatwave. Many people were in their homes or visiting malls to cool off. Lazing around was a popular activity for those who chose to stay in their homes.

(Y/n) was included in that bunch.

The young woman had been laying down on a picnic blanket underneath a tree in her backyard. The tree had been there ever since she's gotten this place and it was certainly a favorite of hers. The branches, with or without their leaves, gave her company whenever she had restless nights. It had been like a friend, who trudged through, giving the shadows that covered her from the moon's light.

Her eyes stare up at the tree, watching little critters run around. Squirrels had made this tree their home. The sun's rays peeked through gaps between leaves, illuminating some of (Y/n)'s features.

Despite the radiance she received from the sun, she was as dull as ever. The young woman still struggled with her mental health but she took advice from her parents and close friends. She had to cave in because the days had been getting rather difficult to trudge through. With a bit of therapy and support from everyone, things have been much more bearable.

Work was going smoother now and she was able to socialize as much as before. Felicia and Matthew had been giving her some food through their countless house visits over the past few weeks. Her separated parents found time to call her to check in after she told them about her struggles. They were caring, understanding, and kind.

They had promised to look after her years ago and they were fulfilling it.

It was safe to say that (Y/n) was surrounded by people that loved her, but the same can't be said for her love life. Her relationship with her main romantic interest was blurry right now. Her heart ached for a man who likely has a wife and grandchildren by now, but he was possibly not even alive anymore. Either way, the bridge she had built cannot even reach her destination. A restless fog had covered her sights for the end of the bridge.

It was impossible to cross.

This relationship had been the main source of her misery and (Y/n) had been aware of it for so long. She always thought she could make it work and she fails to see that it has been steering in the wrong direction. The young woman devoted her love to a man that, she believed, loves her back. No one else but Matthew and Felicia knew about this.

Thank god her parents didn't know. They'd tell her to fully detach herself from him, which seems like something she just can't do. She loved him too much and there was a lot to lose, seeing how her mental health hinges on the very thought of him.

Jones.

(Y/n) shook her head, dismissing her thoughts. She cannot let herself get lost thinking about him again. Closing her eyes, she let out a sigh, before she opened them once more. The sun was still there, the sky was still as blue as ever, and the tree was still green and brown. She was still laying on a picnic blanket with containers of food surrounding her.

Evidence of her picnic with Matthew earlier today.

After a while of sky-watching, the young woman sits up. She pushes her hands through her hair as she adjusts to her new position. She blinked once, twice, three times, before continuing to push herself up to a stand. She gathered the remnants of today's activity and headed into her cold home. The backyard lays dormant for the rest of the afternoon, as (Y/n) once again cooped up in her house.

The tv in the dark living room played noise in the background as she cooked dinner for one, with a little extra to be served as leftovers for tomorrow. The warm, orange light of the kitchen illuminates her form, but she remains cold always. The heat had left her home as soon as the sun disappeared. The temperature was deathly cold.

Her hands weren't shivering, but there was a chill pressed against her back, overseeing her chop vegetables and put them all in a pot. (Y/n) paid no mind to the presence, as she had been accustomed to it. The cold was always there, hugging her whenever possible. It lived here with her, almost like a partner, and she's grown to love it.

As a matter of fact, she's always been in love with it.

She only saw him once, but she always felt him. He was here, always stalking her during the night and disappearing for the morning. The moon energized him, (Y/n) believed), and she was fine with it. She supposed she could use the company.

(Y/n) hummed softly to herself as she finished cooking. It was done now and she could finally dine in the comfort of her living room. Wherever she went, the cold drifted alongside her. It sat beside her on the couch as she played something on the tv to keep her distracted from her thoughts. She ate her dinner, watched for a little while, and eventually went away to follow her usual nightly routine.

Afterward, she rested on her bed, her eyes staring at the abyss. The light of the moon seeped through the gaps between the leaves of the tree and the window, illuminating the area just a bit. It wasn't enough to keep the apparitions from appearing above her.

Beside her was her phone, playing a random song to fill up the silence. Her (e/c) eyes continue to gaze at the darkness. She tried finding the sparkle of broken glasses again, though he did not appear. Not after that other night, after her dad's visit, did he appear again. The specter she wanted to believe was Jones never showed itself to her again. The ghosts that she saw tonight were the cells in her eyes, floating around in their liquid casing.

Although she can't see him, she could feel him. The room is still as cold as ever, even if she had her blanket around her. There wasn't a hint of pressure beside her, but he was somewhere here. Watching her, protecting her, she'd liked to believe. The company didn't make her fall asleep, however. There was anxiety gnawing her insides.

There were only two letters left in the box, and the decline Jones has been going through has not been bright. There were a few light-hearted letters but (Y/n) felt as if that was an attempt to make himself feel better. The war wasn't going well, or at least that's what Jones believed. (Y/n) feared that the last two letters will be anything but good news.

She had every right to think about it that way.

Even if it was going to be good news, it'll end terribly for her. She'd lose him. The letters are all she had of the soldier.

The young woman continued to stare at the ceiling, letting her fears chew her insides. Eventually, through fatigue, she would fall into a deep sleep, only to wake early in the morning. The sun barely peeked through the horizon. The room was still cold, but only because of the morning chill that occupied her home. The presence that watched over her was gone. (Y/n) was truly alone in her room.

The (h/c)-haired lady stayed in her room for a few hours, unmoving from her position. She'd pondered and imagined scenarios in her head to make her feel better. It distracted her from the gloom that came with opening the second to last letter. When she had enough energy, she stood up and proceeded with her morning routine.

There, in the bathroom, she felt him. A cold spot was in the corner, and behind the shadows of her door, she saw a figure. The glint was barely visible, but she could make out his form. (Y/n) stared at the apparition, connecting eyes with him for a moment, before he would fade into the darkness of the shadow. From the mirror, she continued to maintain eye contact. Her body was unmoving, fearing if she did move, he would too.

Her heart ached.

"Come back, I want to see you," she'd say. This was the second time she'd see him. But the ghost wouldn't comply, for he had already expended energy to be slightly visible today. It may be that her eyes were just seeing things, but (Y/n) believed it was him. Her still body would eventually move to finish the rest of her routine. When she left, he'd appear within the darkness of her unlit bathroom. (Y/n) felt him move with her, just hovering around.

She stared at the box that held the letters. The second one was sitting on her lap, ready to be opened, but her focus was on the last one that sat at the bottom of the box. Biting her lip, she turned her attention to the one already out of the container. She swallowed her emotions and ripped open the envelope. She didn't want to scan the letter.

It was all going to be the same.

"Good morning, Jones," (Y/n)'s voice cracked at the mention of his name. "How are you feeling?"

She already knew the answer.

To my darling angel, The operation at the beach was a success, but unfortunately, angel, I'm heavily wounded. I don't think I have that much time to live and I'm okay with that, honestly. I've come to accept that my death is nearing. There's not that much for me to live for anyway. Alex...he's gone. He died the day we stormed the beach. He told me he was going to live but he immediately got shot the moment the ramp opened. It's only been a few days since I last saw him but his image is still burned into my memory. Him, along with the annoying thoughts continue to haunt me. I think death is the only way to get them out of there. I'm the only one left out of my friends anyway. Nobody at home will miss me too much. All my friends are dead because of me and I can't handle the guilt of it all. I can't. It's always been my fault. I've already told Ma and Pa about giving up. They tell me to keep living, but it's hard. I don't want to have them deal with me. I know by the time I come back home, I'm not going to have an easy life. I'm so fucked up, it'll be so hard for me to get accustomed to civilian life again. I'll have so many problems and I don't want Ma and Pa dealing with all of that. I'd rather just get rid of the problem and spare them the trouble. I would live for you but I think it'd be useless. You don't love me anymore. You don't even think about me anymore, so what's the point? You've already, probably, tossed the letter aside. But that's okay. I understand. I won't hold any grudges against you because I know it's hard to love me. If you ever live with me after the war, you'd have the same problems as Ma and Pa. Leaving would make everyone feel better. I'll still love you regardless, even in my dying breath, my angel, I'll still love you. I've always told myself that I'd be your protector, so maybe, if God is good and great, he'll let me. At night, I'll be there, to make sure you're safe and happy. Maybe I can watch over you. I'd forever be the moon to your stars, my darling. I've been in and out of consciousness, or so I've been told. I've been in this med-bay for a while now and I know I can't make it out of here alive. It's kind of funny. I've always wondered what it was like to have death at my doorstep. I thought he'd be cold and overbearing, but he's actually a pretty sweet guy and gives people warmth and comfort whenever they need it. I feel him everywhere in this warm medical bay. He's always been by my side, waiting for my time and I'm afraid that it's already nearing. He sits on my bed and watches over me like the nurses and doctors that tend to my wounds every day. He's here with me right now while I'm writing this letter. He's telling me that I should write down everything I want to say to you. He's telling me to snap out of it though, but how can I? The very thought of you gives me comfort. Maybe one day, I will, but for as long as I breathe, I'll forever think about you. My vision is fading, baby. I pray to God he'll let me write to you once more. Just one more day, angel, and maybe another. I want to see you again in my dreams. Maybe he'll let me since I can sleep peacefully now. Forever yours, Jones

(Y/n) looked at the letter in her hands, resonating with his acceptance. Her hands tightly gripped the paper as she stared at his writing. It was messy in some parts, but he tried to be neat. There were tear stains on the aged paper. The young woman had a feeling that, even if he said he accepted death, there was a part of him that didn't want to go. He was still in his youth. He wanted to live but what he went through made it impossible for him.

The (h/c)-haired woman doesn't know the extent of his injuries, but the way he put it, he was gravely wounded. Even if he could be honorably discharged, his wounds make living life impossible. (Y/n) hated having to think about him in this state, but that's all she had in her mind. The thought of him being confined to a bed all his life, drinking medicine to overcome the pain.

It hurt her.

Though, the thought of him dying too, hurt her just as much.

(Y/n) placed the letter against her lips, giving him her usual send-off. "I pray for your recovery, Jones," the young woman would say. She knew the inevitable was coming, but she wanted to believe that he was able to change his mind and fight for his life. The last letter in the box might be proof that he's moved on from his beloved and he went on to live a long, prosperous life.

Despair lingered around her as she tucked the piece of paper back into its envelope. She stared at the aged paper for a bit before hiding it in her drawer. She lingered at her bed for a moment, as she felt a presence surround her. She could only smile before she'd shed a tear and cry out the emotions in her chest.

She'd muster her feelings at some point and put them all in a bottle for future use. (Y/n) left her bed, with her phone in her hand, and went to the bathroom to freshen up once more. She put on a bit of makeup and redness-correcting eyedrops to mask the fact that she ended up crying this morning. A notification ping echoed in the bathroom.

Matthew must be here.

He organized another hang-out with her today because he said he was feeling "a bit lonely". (Y/n) knew it was just a way for him to check up on her. He was aware that they were coming up on the last few days of her obsession. He wanted to make sure that she can get out of this situation alive and well. With the way (Y/n)'s been acting, both of them knew that it'll end in an emotional spiral. Matthew wanted to be there for her when that happens.

The young woman stared at her appearance in the mirror and tugged the corners of her lips to fabricate a smile. It was good enough to wear. She sent her friend a text saying that she was going to get ready. She changed her clothes, fixed her hair, and made her way out with her belongings at hand. Matthew was standing outside her door, holding his fluffy, white dog with the leash.

"Hey. There you are," Williams grinned as he sent a wave to his friend. "Come on. If we don't leave soon, the beach is gonna be filled with a ton of people and we won't have a spot for us." Kuma barked in agreement with his owner, causing (Y/n) to genuinely smile.

"I've already got my things so we can start heading out now." The young woman went over to the Canadian's car and placed her few things in the trunk. Kuma had already hopped onto the backseat, already secured and ready for the trip. (Y/n) rode shotgun with Matthew in the driver's seat. She was given the aux cord so she played whatever music interested her at the moment.

The drive to the beach was long but comfortably quiet. Somewhere through the drive, (Y/n) managed to fall asleep. It may have been general fatigue that knocked her out, or maybe it was due to the crying session she had prior to the trip. Maybe it was simply a little bit of both.

Matthew often looked to his side to check on his friend. His focus was on the road, sure, but when they were stopped at a light, he would take his glances. A sigh left him when he saw signs of what happened to her before he appeared at her door steps. Despite her going to therapy, it was still taking a toll on her. Matthew would know. He's been there before, though it wasn't as heavy hitting as hers.

He's always pondered how she got here, but he never fully dwelled on the thought for too long. Many people have different ways of getting to that point. It would be hard for him to understand where she was. She was dealing with a tough situation and he was only going to be there to support her.

Not question her.

The day was still relatively young when they arrived at the beach. It took them a while to get a parking spot but they were here. Just the two of them, at the beach. Other people were near the shore, like families and couples that took their afternoon strolls. (Y/n) sat around with Kuma as Matthew set up most of their things, from the umbrella to the cooler that held the snacks he prepared earlier today.

Kuma panted, feeling the heat warm him up. With a dog that had such a thick coat, he was barely surviving in this heat. What kept him going was the fan that had been pointed at his face. (Y/n) sat by the hound's side, staring at the clear blue water surrounding the grey beach. The sounds of people and the water comforted (Y/n), but there was a thought that stayed in her mind.

Jones.

A few letters ago, he mentioned pretty beaches and how he's always wanted to visit one with his significant other. As she stared at the water that threatened to come by their towels, she thought of him and his wish. She wanted to fulfill that with him, but she wasn't his. She could be, in her mind, but in reality, she can't.

Her eyes envisioned him with her. The image she's created of him may not be true to life, but this was her Jones. His glasses were pristine and his smile was stuck on his face. He wore his green uniform, his hat, and sparkling medals on his chest. He was with her and he was well. Though the image of him disappeared when Matthew called out to her.

"You're blanking out," the blonde told her. He sat in front of her, with his back turned toward the waves. "Here. I got some snacks from the cooler. I dunno if you've already eaten yet, but it'd be nice to have something for the stomach, you know." Matthew had a sweet smile on his face as he handed his friend the food he packed for today. (Y/n) stared at it and nodded her head.

"Thank you, Mattie." She'd take a bite and feel slightly better. She'd turn her gaze away to look at the spot Jones had been. Matthew noticed her look and did the same, finding no one near them, though he could find a couple playing in the water. Her eyes were still blank and it looked like she was having a hard time focusing on the moment.

"I know there's something on your mind, (Y/n)," Matthew confronted her.

"I'm fine," she mumbled.

Matthew noticed the sign and decided to give up almost immediately. He'd wait for her to tell him. It's no use trying to pry open something that didn't want to be opened. He would sit next to his dog, Kuma, who was now laying down on the blankets. The fan that kept him cool was still whirring in front of him as he took his afternoon nap.

The Canadian stared out to sea, watching the water crash onto the shore. (Y/n) was doing the same, except her eyes saw something different. Her beloved soldier was there, playing in the water, smiling at her. His speck of green stood out in the sea of blue.

She was seeing things.

The duo shared the silence as they sat around. (Y/n) broke their peace by saying, "Did you know...the letters mentioned a beach." Matthew looked to his friend, his eyebrow arching, asking her to continue.

"Jones...he wanted to go to the beach with his girlfriend," (Y/n) continued, "he was stationed at a beach when he wrote that letter. All he ever thought about was her, you know. It pains me a lot to think about it. How he might not even get to see her at a beach." The young woman hugged her legs, but her (e/c)-colored eyes continued to stare at the sea.

"I opened another letter today. The second to last one." There was hesitance in her voice. "He's dying, Matthew. And I'm scared that the last letter- tomorrow's letter- might be his written will." The man she was talking to would continue to be silent so she could voice her thoughts. That's all she needed to do anyway, to make herself feel just a bit better.

"I don't want to lose him. You know this already. That last letter is going to be the death of me."

Matthew's periwinkle eyes stared at his friend as he listened to her. "You know you have to let him go eventually. You can't let some dead soldier hang onto you and break you like this, (Y/n)." He hated seeing her go through something as painful as this, especially since her pain is coming from a dead man. Matthew can't confront the dead.

(Y/n) dipped her head and let out a muffled, "I know." Her heart broke just a bit when Matthew spoke to her. She knows he's right, but she's stubborn. She'll let Jones break her anyway. Matthew reached out to her and placed a hand on her back. He could feel her breaths becoming shallow. She was going to lose it. The blonde did his best to comfort her, through small rubs and pats on her shoulders.

He'd help her with breathing exercises and they worked, for the most part. It's hard to get rid of her thoughts about Jones though. Matthew didn't know that the beach would have such an effect on her. He should have planned this outing better. A hum leaves the Canadian as he looked at his friend. The friends connected gazes and smiled at each other.

"I'm okay," (Y/n) would tell him. They knew both she wasn't, but she was going to try and be better. Looking back at the sea, she'd spot the blue again. The speck of green was still there and the faint apparition of Jones lingered in the water. He no longer had a pristine uniform. Dried blood coated his haunting form and his glasses were cracked. She could never see his face but she always looked out for his smile.

It wasn't there anymore.

(Y/n) stared at the figure in the water, before the wave crashed over him, making him disappear completely. The young woman's lips pursed together and forced a smile. She hasn't told anyone about the visions she's been seeing because she knew that people would think of her as insane. No one would believe her if she said she was being haunted by the object of her fascination.

They spent today's afternoon lazing around the shore under the umbrella and playing. They build sandcastles and buried each other under the sand to distract (Y/n) from her thoughts. At the end of it all, they walked Kuma down the shore, letting the heated pup wet his feet to cool down. Kuma ended up being drenched in seawater, which Matthew had to clean once they were home.

To say that the beach hangout was a success would be a lie, but (Y/n) enjoyed spending time with her friend, Matthew. The blonde walked her to her home and made sure to give her his usual send-off for the night. He gently wrapped his arms around her for an embrace and kept her close for a bit. (Y/n) relished the hug and laughed a little when she felt her friend squeeze her.

"Good night, Mattie," she would say.

"Good night, (Y/n)," he'd reply back. "I trust you. Please don't do anything bad."

"I won't."

The two friends drifted apart and sent each other their final waves for the night. (Y/n) disappeared inside her cold, dark home. She lingered in there for a moment with her eyes scanning her surroundings for a hint of green amongst the void. Nothing, per usual. She turned on the lights of her home and got ready for dinner and her nightly routine.

It was the same old. Nothing ever changed.

The young woman would rest her head on her pillow and stare at the void that wrapped around her. She'd feel pressure at the foot of the bed, finding a glimpse of green.

This is the third time- now.

He moved ever so slightly in the dark. His broken glasses gleamed underneath the moonlight. (Y/n) stared at him before she moved. Her hand met his bloodied fingers halfway and they lingered there.

He was cold, colder than her freezer, colder than the artic, but the smile he held was warm and comforting. The young woman couldn't tell if she was hallucinating things or if his apparition was truly there. He began to shift into a blur the more she stared at him.

"Stay-" (Y/n)'s meek voice called out. His form could only smile.

Then he was gone.

"No-" she'd whispered after. Her fingers curled into a fist as she hugged her legs. Tears swelled in her eyes as she cried. This night would leave her with no sleep, as her tears and thoughts kept her awake. There was no need to worry though. She doesn't have work for another day, anyway.

The sun would rob the moon's spotlight, filling the world with light. It would seep through the tree that hid (Y/n)'s window. The young woman was at her bed as still as a rock. Her eyes were unmoving, staring at the ceiling, and waiting for the day to pass.

Today was the last day, then after that, no more letters. A year has passed already, but it didn't feel like it.

She'd lose energy but she could never regain it. (Y/n) lacked the need to sleep as her mind was constantly busy. She'd move a limb, then another, until she's fully out of bed. She moved like the undead, trudging along her floor until she managed to limp to the bathroom. The darkness of it all gave her comfort. Her (e/c)-colored eyes looked for green but found nothing.

With a sigh, she turned on her lights and continued what she would usually do in the morning. (Y/n) corrected the bags under her eyes and practiced smiling. She's been doing this for a while now and there hasn't been significant progress. She could never feel truly happy.

Approaching the final day made her more miserable.

But unlike Jones, she has too much to live for. She needed to keep fighting whatever was bringing her down.

Once finished, she appeared in her bedroom again. (Y/n) looked at the spot she knew held the box. Her stare was intense and her body was as still as she could get. Anxiety filled her stomach immediately but she reached forward and opened it.

The last letter sat comfortably in its spot, waiting to be opened. (Y/n) didn't want to, but she knew she had to. Biting her lip, she plucked it from the bottom. There was something odd about this one. It was heavier than the others. It threw the woman off, but she pushed forward and she gently ripped the envelope.

The letter had been folded neatly inside and there were a few souvenirs too. The young woman knew that the man enjoyed sending home gifts, but these were different. She opened the paper and found dog tags and a black and white photo. (Y/n) looked at the photograph first.

There was a man posing for his photo. He appeared to have blonde hair and bright eyes with small, square glasses sitting atop his nose. His complexion was clear and pale but flushed cheeks. He had a gleaming smile that completed everything. He wore a dark uniform that held no badges or metals. The soldier was young, handsome, and didn't have a care in the world.

(Y/n) turned the photo around to find writing in pen that said, "Me! Send copies to Ma, Pa, and Mattie when able!" There was no mention of a feminine name anywhere, but that wasn't what she was hyper-fixated on right now. Her thoughts revolved around the idea that she can put a face to him now. Her heart jumped for joy, but at the same time, she brought herself down.

This was the last letter. She can't envision him after this is over. The fact made her emotional, which was enough to put some tears in her eyes. She placed his photo down and looked at the dog tags that accompanied the letter.

"Alfred F. Jones," she whispered. That was his name. Alongside it were numbers, his blood type, his religion, and another name, though this didn't seem like his girlfriend or anything. She was thinking it was his mother since it said "Mrs. F. Jones."

(Y/n) could be heard muttering his name over and over again. She still had the urge to call him Jones. Placing the memorabilia down, she turned her attention to the letter. It was pristine, but she finally noticed there were a few blood splotches on the edges. It's aged, dried blood, which was a cause of concern for her, but it didn't matter.

None of it matters anymore.

"Good morning, Alfred," she'd greet. It was much more personal now. "How are you doing, darling?" She'd try to make herself feel better, but the greeting caught her off guard. It sounded like he was distancing himself away. He didn't call her angel anymore.

To whoever finds these letters, I hope they reach you well. I don't have that much time left in me, but I'd like to write down my feelings and my thoughts. I'm not asking for big audience, but if there is one, and you're the one, please listen to me. That's all I ask. I've been given a lot of paper, so I have enough to put down everything. At least I think so anyway. They say I can always ask for more, but I doubt I can. Breathing is getting significantly harder for me, but I'm trying to live just so I can write. I'm trying to unpack so that in the next life, I'll be given a fresh start. I want to leave everything here in my old body. I don't necessarily believe in the afterlife or in reincarnation, but I just want to leave my baggage here. Experiencing the near end of my life has given me a lot to think about. I've always thought it's impossible to find clarity in death, but now I'm getting first-hand experience and I can't help but think it's funny. I used to think it was strange but now I'm going through it right now. I've found peace in knowing that I'm going to leave soon and that has given me a clear head. I hope this is the first letter you've read because the past ones, the ones that will be sent to my home with this one, are filled with nonsense from a grieving madman. I don't care if you send these letters to a museum, just don't send them to my parents. Send them specifically to my house. If they've seen that their son has gone utterly insane over the years would hurt so much. You can put this anywhere you want, actually, just as long as someone reads them. It could be you, it could be anyone willing to listen to me. I just want to be heard. I want to be seen. I want others to know how a man can suffer because of this war. I don't know when you'll be finding these. You could be reading this years after I die. Just- you know, if you do happen to see my letters, please treat them with care, or not. Throw them away, just- please read them or send them somewhere where people actually care. You can even send it to a museum or something. Leave the rest of these letters unopened so the curators can read them. They'll treat these with care, that is if they are still in good health and these letters are legible, but if you want, you can also take care of them. I don't know why, though, but if you think it's fine then be my guest. But if this is the last letter you've read, then I have a few words to tell you. Thank you, and I'm sorry you've had the misfortune of knowing me. I appreciate the fact that you've read everything because that's all I needed. I just needed someone to listen to me, even if it'll take days or years for someone to find these. You could be anyone, really, and I wouldn't care who you are because regardless, I appreciate you. I'm grateful for your patience and your sympathy because the Lord knows someone like me doesn't deserve it. The thought of someone finding these letters and reading them is enough to make me happy on my deathbed. Thank you so much for taking the time of your day to listen to me and my stupid, incoherent ramblings. Hey, you've been with me the entire journey. You made it this far. If I caused something to you while you're reading the past few letters please know I didn't mean to hurt you. I appreciate your sympathy, I genuinely do, but I am deeply sorry for the pain I may have caused. I've caused too much to other people and the last thing I want is for another person to be hurt because of me.

There were tear stains on the next few pages, but they were still legible. The paper seems fresh too, but it looks somewhat aged.

My darling angel, This is to you personally. I know you're reading this because you've come this far and haven't discarded me yet. I have one thing to confess and I hope that you can listen to me and forgive me. I've hurt you the most and I realize this might hurt you even more. Please, I ask for you to forgive me and listen to the words I have to say. Throughout my life, I didn't think angels ever existed. I'm not a religious man myself, but through the course of the war, I've started to believe God placed an angel to watch over me. You kept me happy and made me sane when things were rough. But the thing is- You never existed. You were never a physical person. In a way, you made me go mad. With some clarity, I realize that creating you was just my brain reaching for ways to feel better. Maybe my silent prayers were heard and God actually placed an angel to be with me from the start. Maybe I willed you into existence. But- You initially came in a form of a joke. I pretended to have a girlfriend because I felt left out. I thought it was funny to pretend to have someone to love. The rest of my friends had their own girlfriends to write to, but I was the only one who didn't have one. So I decided to play along and pretend that you existed, but then the more I wrote to you, a person who doesn't even exist, you became something to me. You never had a physical body because you stemmed from my imagination. I projected to you the qualities I had. I also gave you hobbies I wanted to see. I believed that you were listening to me because Lord knows that's all I needed while I was fighting this damn stupid war. I made myself fall in love with the idea of you, which is by far the stupidest but the best thing I've done in my life. While I was thinking of you, you felt so real to me. It came to the point where I thought you were a living, breathing person that could actually write back to me. Everyone else was getting letters and I didn't. Not getting anything from you made me frustrated, but I held on to you so much because you're all I had. It pains me that you never existed, because I would have loved you so much, wholeheartedly. I would have done everything for you because the idea of you made me so happy. You were my everything. I find my words weird and crazy the more I write them now, but this is how I genuinely feel. I fell in love with a figment of my imagination, but if by some miracle, you truly exist, I would have loved to see you. To hold you, to bring you out on dates, to kiss you. I want to do everything with you and I hope that in another life, I get to meet you. God has to be merciful enough to give me another chance. Maybe I'll win the life lottery in the next one, eh? I genuinely am sorry for the pain I've caused you. I've tried making it up to you. I promised you that I'd be the moon to your stars, that I'd be there to protect you. I've done all I can. I don't know if I could ever become a ghost, or whatever the hell exists out there, but if I could, I would be there at night, watching over you. I'd keep any dangers away from you because I'd hate to see you get hurt. I've already hurt you so much, I don't want anything else harming you. I know it's a lot to unpack. I know I've rambled. I know I've said a lot of shit, but it's all how I feel. This is the baggage I'll leave this body. I know I don't have that much time anymore so I'll cut it here. Breathing is getting hard for me but hey, I think I'll die peacefully. Thank you, my darling. I hope I get to see you in another life. I'll find my way to you again. I promise. I love you. Lovingly, and always forever yours, Alfred

Silence hung in (Y/n)'s bedroom as she stared at the letter in her hands. He was right. There is a lot to unpack, but the young woman doesn't have enough strength to handle it right now. Her vision is blurred with her tears, which dripped down to the paper. Her hands were shaking and soon enough her body would follow.

Heat seeped through her room, but the area in front of her was deathly cold. Rubbing tears from her eyes, she could see just a bit clearer. Before her was an apparition of Alfred. He wore a clean, green uniform with brand-new glasses. The rest of him was in black and white, mimicking his appearance in his photograph.

Alfred knelt in front of her with his hands cupping her own. He held his usual bright smile but tears also ran down his cheeks.

"I love you too, Alfred," she'd whisper. "I loved you so much."

They stared into each other's eyes. Slowly, he'd rise and press his lips against hers.

A final parting gift.

The young woman would take at this moment and she'd close her eyes. They lingered for a bit before he'd leave. There were no more traces of him in her vision. She stared at the clear floor. The perpetual cold temperature of her room disappeared completely and the heavyweight that constantly rested on her shoulders disappeared.

Her mind was given clarity, but her chest was heavy with grief. This was the general grief experienced after losing a loved one though. It wasn't like the one she's felt over the past few months. She didn't feel the world on her shoulders anymore.

But this was at the cost of Jones.

He no longer haunted her.

Perhaps the remnants of his soul have served their purpose and have gotten what they wanted.

(Y/n) smiled as she blankly stared at the spot Alfred knelt at. She'd eventually approach her door to try and get her day started. To make herself think about something else. To start the process of healing. Before she could leave she'd hear a whisper in her ear.

"I loved you too, (Y/n)."

#i forgor to post this #sorry yall #hws america x reader #hws x reader #hetalia x reader #hetalia #alfred f jones x reader #aph america x reader #x reader #fem reader #reader insert

33 notes · View notes

petrichorocs · 2 years

Text

do you think you’re better everyday? / dealer’s choice pt. 1

pairing: eddie munson/oc (cynthia moose) fandom: stranger things wc: 2.8k note: this is me missing them and providing context/backstory to their relationship (i just love them)

"There's always Eddie Munson, Tommy buys from him." Steve shrugged, taking a glance at the clock.

A confused look washed over the girl's face, "Eddie? Like, the D&D guy? He sells drugs?"

or 5 times Eddie and Cynthia got to know each other in the gloomy town of Hawkins

READ ON: ao3 ✰ wattpad ✰ ff.net ✰ quotev

February 1984, Hawkins High School

Cynthia pushed in the doors of Hawkins High with more of a kick in her step than she’d had in the last three months, but the almost elated feeling she had left her as she got nearer to her group of friends. Friends she had almost neglected since her dad went missing back in November. They tried to stay around in the midst of the girl's grief but they could only do so much, they were just kids.

The conversation almost seemed to die as she gathered herself into the circle, “Hey guys.”

“Hi, Cynthia.” Nancy greeted, a kind smile as she was the only one to say hi.

Carol was the next one to greet her, pulling her into a tight hug, arms hanging over the taller girls' shoulders as she squeezed her, “Good to see you, Cyn.”

Cynthia gave a tired smile, Carol’s sweet perfume overloaded her senses, “you too, Care.”

The redhead pulled back, and took Cynthia’s chin in her well manicured hand, “we gotta get some make-up on you. You’re looking gloomy.”

“I got second period free.” She responded, forcing a laugh.

Carol let go with a pat to the cheek, “holding you to that.”

Nodding, she changed the subject, not liking everyone’s eyes on her, waiting for her to say something sad or start crying. “Steve, can I talk to you real quick?”

Steve looked shocked, running a hand through his hair, “sure.”

She nodded to the vacated classroom next to them. Ms. O’Donnell didn’t have a class first period and left her door unlocked.

“How’ve you been? Tim said you got picked up by Hopper.” Steve asked as he flicked on the lights and leaned back against the wall, mirroring Cynthia as she leaned against the empty chalkboard.

“Doing better,” she laughed, “I took off from home for a couple days and my mom didn’t like that. It’s whatever.”

He nodded, not really knowing how to respond to that. “So what’s going on?”

“Do you know where I could get some weed?”

“I buy from Pinelli, I could put a word in for you.”

"Steve, look me in the eyes and tell me one good reason that I wouldn't want to buy from Bull Pinelli." Cynthia rolled her eyes at the mention of her ex and Steve remembered as soon as she spoke.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I forgot you guys used to--"

"Yeah. Wish I could." She laughed dryly.

"There's always Eddie Munson, Tommy buys from him." Steve shrugged, taking a glance at the clock.

A confused look washed over the girl's face, "Eddie? Like, the D&D guy? He sells drugs?"

"I guess. Talk to Tommy."

“Okay,” Cynthia sighed, opening the door, “thanks anyways, Steve.”

The taller boy pushed past her, giving her a nod and comforting pat on the shoulder as he walked out, bell ringing as he did so.

✰ ✰ ✰

Carol’s hand was once again on Cynthia’s chin as she held her still while spreading eye shadow across her lid.

“Yo, Tommy, if I gave you some money could you do me a solid?” Cynthia asked, glancing over at the boy who wasn’t interested at all in what the pair of girls were doing but wanted to skip class.

“Depends, what do you want?” He reached forward into the pile of Juicy Fruit next to his girlfriend.

Carol sat back with a hum, finishing up with the pink shadow as Cynthia shrugged, “you get bags from Eddie Munson, don’t you?”

“The freak?” Tommy popped the gum into his mouth and rolled the wrapper up before throwing it at his girlfriend. “Yeah, you know I don’t fuck with Pinelli.”

“Yeah. Could you get me one? I’ve been smoking with Tim but he’s quitting because of wrestling or whatever. I have twenty bucks.”

✰ ✰ ✰

Tommy Hagan started regretting telling Cynthia yes as he pulled into the Palace Arcade parking lot, spotting Eddie’s shitty van. “Fuck it.” He sighed, turning his car off and walking inside the building, sneering at the younger kids that ran past him as he looked around for the drug dealer.

He finally spotted him with his nerd friends at the furthest corner, huddled around a couple of pinball machines, “Hey, Munson.” He called out, approaching the group of four.

Eddie turned his attention to the boy calling his name, “Hagan. You’re too slow, I closed up shop ‘bout an hour ago.” He already knew what the freckled boy wanted, it was the only reason he associated with him. It was kind of fun to watch him squirm in a ‘nerd’ environment.

“C’mon man, it’s Friday.”

Nodding his head towards the back exit of the building, Eddie grabbed his tin box from the floor and followed the jock outside.

“How much? The usual?”

Tommy slid his hands into his jacket pocket, fiddling with the extra twenty in his hand, “Two.”

Eddie paused, giving a confused look to the boy next to him, “Who you buyin’ for?”

“A friend of mine.” Tommy straightened up, hoping that puffing his chest a little bit would make him not question him more.

“Which friend?” He closed his box back up as a threat.

He debated with himself on whether or not to tell Eddie that he was buying for Cynthia. Tommy didn’t know how his drug dealer was with girls and if he had any weirdo vibes, he didn’t want to send it Cynthia’s way.

“Moose.” He replied with a shrug, hoping to leave it at that.

“Alright. Forty bucks.” Eddie backed down, messing with the black box once again.

March 1984, Hawkins High School

This went on for almost two months. Every other week Cynthia would waltz up to Tommy, and hand him twenty bucks with a smile and he would come back to school the next day and slip a baggie into her backpack at the end of their shared class, seventh period Algebra. Until Eddie told him this last time that he wanted to meet Moose with an almost uncharacteristic seriousness to him.

Tommy slid onto the seat next to his girlfriend and slid the bill into Cynthia’s open hand as she was gesturing while in conversation with Carol. “Bad news,” he greeted.

“What?” Cynthia replied, slipping the money into her flannel's chest pocket, displeasure washing over her face.

“Munson wants to meet you, said he’s ‘over the middle-man shit.’”

“Can’t blame him.” Carol chimed in, slapping Tommy’s hand away from her lunch tray. “He probably thinks you’re up-charging some poor freshman.”

“Fuck.” She groaned, rubbing a hand over her face, “What did you tell him?”

“I said yes, obviously.”

"Shit, alright.

✰ ✰ ✰

Three hours later, right after the last bell rang, Cynthia made her way past the old soccer field, a trail to an old picnic clearing that hadn’t been used by students regularly since before she got to the high school.

“You two really gonna wait for me or ditch as soon as I get in those woods?” She turned to Carol and Tommy sitting on the old bleachers.

“We’re waiting, scout’s honor.” Tommy waved her off.

Rolling her eyes, “‘Cause that means so much coming from you.”

“I can leave.” He wouldn't actually leave, he doesn't trust Munson.

“Please don’t,” she surrendered. “I’m sorry.”

Before she could turn around and finally go to the clearing, Carol spoke up, “Cyn? Try not to charm the pants off this one. You’re oh and one.”

“What the fuck, dude?”

“Just saying.” She shrugged, pushing a piece of gum into her mouth.

✰ ✰ ✰

Eddie came out not too long after, box in hand as he parted ways with his bandmates. Spotting Tommy Hagan with his girlfriend, he got nervous, what if this was some kind of set-up. Keeping a brave face, he nodded at the pair and continued his walk to the clearing.

He spotted a girl with long, dark brown almost black hair sitting on the table with her back to him and he started to feel even more suspicious.

Hearing footsteps on the leaves behind her, Cynthia turned around and spotted Eddie Munson, “Hey, what’s up?”

Eddie walked closer, slowly, before asking “You Moose?”

She replied with a laugh, “That’s what Tommy’s callin’ me? Damn. Yeah.”

He lightened up and sat down on the same side of the table as her feet were. He felt kind of dumb now, he completely expected Moose to be some big ass jock, not her.

“So, why?” He asked, folding his hands on the table, but not meeting her gaze.

“Why what?” She asked jokingly as she scooched down onto the seat next to him. She shrugged, “I don’t know, it was easier. I haven’t exactly been in the right headspace to deal with new people and it’s easy enough to have Tommy do things.”

Eddie hummed, accepting the answer. He could feel her start getting anxious as he kept quiet. Now that he knew Moose wasn’t some nickname for a dude on the football or wrestling team, he started piecing together how he knew her name. “Is your dad Lionel Moose? The cop?”

Cynthia drew lines in the dirt as she kicked her leg back and forth, “Yeah, he retired a year, year and a half ago.” Her mouth went dry as she started waiting for the inevitable next question.

“Oh.�� Eddie nodded, tapping the black box on his side, “and how is he doing?”

“Um,” Cynthia swallowed, trying to keep her composure in front of the drug dealer, “he, uh–.” She wiped a hand over her face, trying to keep hair out of her eyes, “he’s presumably retired. From, from life.”

“Shit.” He mumbled to himself, instantly regretting the small talk, “I’m sorry, I didn’t–”

Sniffling out a response, “you’re good. It’s fine. I’m mostly normal about it now.”

“No, man. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” Eddie responded, pulling his box onto the table and opening it. “How about this: I cut you a deal this time. Fifteen bucks for your half.”

Cynthia chuckled, “Is it that easy to get a discount? I just gotta put on the waterworks for ya?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, meeting her gaze with a smirk, “Just this once, Moose.”

“Sure.” She responded, digging in her pocket and handing him her twenty.

August 1984, Bradley’s Big Buy

Cynthia didn’t want to admit to herself that she was avoiding Eddie Munson, she also refused to admit that she may have had a crush on the guy.

Not like it was embarrassing to have a crush, he was cute and nice to her which she felt that’s just how he was. But she definitely thought it would’ve gone away when she left Hawkins for just over a month to go to camp. It didn’t. Now she was avoiding the guy.

She told her friends that she wanted to finish out the summer sober (a minute lie). Ready to get back on the cheer team, the coach was going to let her back on despite being held back as long as she didn’t get into more trouble.

But here she was, working at the grocery store, stocking shelves, actively avoiding Eddie Munson since he was at the store with a couple of his friends. It looked like they were gearing up for a party, but Cameron, a close friend and co-worker, informed her it was likely they were getting ready for a D&D campaign.

“Holy shit. Moose, is that you?” Fuck. There he was.

Cam snickered and told her to go talk to him and Cynthia obliged with a quick huff.

“Hey, man, what’s goin on?” She approached him with a friendly smile.

“Not much,” He laid his hands in the pockets of his jean shorts. “Are you ignoring me?”

“I was out of town.” She informed, mirroring his current mannerisms. “Took my sister to camp.”

“Okay, because a little birdie told me you were avoiding me.”

Cynthia shook her head, feeling heat coming up her neck, “That birdie wouldn’t happen to be standing right behind me?”

Eddie laughed, eyes darting to Cameron, pretending to stock shelves as she kept a close eye on the pair. “The birdie is actually at the front, he’s ringing up Jeff.”

She took the opportunity to change the subject, “I thought you and Tim hated each other.”

“Yeah?” He shrugged, it was mildly true. “I know he’s one of your buddies, so I asked.”

“About me?” Cynthia turned the smug mood around on him, “did you miss me, Munson?”

The taller boy didn’t have a response for that, he just shook his head with a smile, “I gotta go, see you around.”

October 1984, Mevald’s General Store

Cynthia looked up from her position at the register and saw Eddie outside, he gave her a wave and she nodded back and pointed to the back door, hoping he’d get the hint and meet her in the alley. As soon as he gave a thumbs up, she called out, “Hey, Joyce? I’m gonna take my break real quick.”

“Okay, go ahead.” Joyce responded from the store room, where she disappeared with Bob Newby just five minutes ago..

She exited the building into the alleyway and leaned against the bricks, waiting for Eddie as she patted her pockets down, looking for her cigarettes.

Eddie walked up to her quietly, “Hey, Moose.”

“Hi. You got a light?” There was a stick hanging between her lips and she couldn’t find her lighter, probably left it in her car.

“Yeah.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a plain white BIC, before lighting her cigarette

“Those new?” She was taken aback, changing the subject, hoping he wouldn’t notice the blush on her cheeks.

“What?” He lit his own cigarette, putting the lighter back in his pocket.

“The bats.” She gestured to his right arm.

“Oh. Yeah, got ‘em done about a week ago.”

“Sick.”

“You got any?”

She shook her head, taking a drag, “Want one, don’t know what.”

Eddie got a playfully evil grin on his face, “I could give you one.”

Cynthia laughed, smoke coming out of her nose. “I think you’re cool as fuck, Munson. But there’s no way in hell I’m letting you near me with a tattoo gun.”

He gave her what could’ve been puppy dogs eyes, “I can do stink-n-poke.”

“That’s so much worse.”

Laughing, it was his turn to change the subject, “So what’d you want?”

“An ounce.” Moose muttered, tapping the ashes off the cigarette between her fingers.

“Damn, Cheech, big occasion?”

She laughed at the reference, “Um, kinda, I’m heading to a party tonight and Cam tasked me with bringing the weed, so.”

“Who’s party?”

“Tina’s.” She replied.

Eddie mostly zoned out as Cynthia continued talking, trying to remember who Tina was. When he looked back down at the shorter girl, she was looking at him expectantly. “What?”

She laughed, before taking another drag and asked, “Do you want to come get sheet-faced tonight? More the merrier.”

He almost obliged as he looked at her, her eyes almost sparkling as she asked the question. “I don’t think so, Moose. Not my crowd.”

“Okay.” She almost seemed disappointed? “Well, I get out of here at five, so could you meet me at my place on Cherry Lane later?”

✰ ✰ ✰

7:28pm. Eddie rolled up to Cynthia’s house, a big brown house with a blue wagon out front. Walking up to the front door, he kept his black tin box in his left hand as knocked with his right.

“Come in.” A woman’s voice called out from behind the door.

He entered the home and saw a bowl of Halloween candy sitting on the ledge next to the door, he started looking through, wanting to take one.

“Oh, it’s you.” Cynthia peeked around the corner, a smile on her face, it looked like she was dressed up for the holiday. “Gimme a sec.”

Finally picking out a couple of candies, Three Musketeers and a Snickers, he watched as she came back into the main room, “nice dress.”

She was wearing a lacy button up shirt and a long, almost bubblegum pink skirt, “thanks,” she responded with a smile before holding out a bill for him.

“I didn’t bring any change.” Eddie said as he watched her walk into the living room to turn off the television, checking out the fifty dollar bill between his fingers.

“Keep the change,” she waved him off while approaching him at the entranceway of the house. “I know it’s a hell of a drive from Forest Hills, especially with all the Trick-or-Treaters.”

“Shit, alright. Thanks.” He reached into the box and pulled out a larger baggie and handed it to the girl, “It’s two different kinds, I have to make a run soon.”

“Cool.” She slid the bag into her purse that matched the skirt almost exactly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

PART TWO

#cynthia moose #ocapp #strangerthingsocs #allaboutocs #fd: stranger things #eddie munson x oc #w: running town #k writes #*

16 notes · View notes

11queensupreme11 · 27 days

Note

Reading the Wattpad comments for the latest chapter vs the AO3 and Quotev is………. Certainly a trip!

I think I’ll be switching to Quotev now! I’d say AO3, but there’s no pictures there 😓

literally every time i post a chapter about the pjo!universe, i always gotta brace myself for the wattpad comments cuz some of the ppl there are completely misinterpreting things and sometimes it's because of their own bias getting in the way or because my writing makes them think that and i do NOT want it to be the second 😭😭😭��😭😭

let me just make this clear right now because some of my wattpad readers seem to have a very negative view of the pjo characters in my fic and i don't want my other readers thinking that's what i'm going for:

pjo!poseidon loves his daughter and percy loves him too (familial ofc)

sally jackson IS a good mom and percy loves her

anthonius loves and cares for percy and vice versa

chiron loves and cares for percy, like he does with all the other campers

the pjo!gods are not black and white. there is no "the pjo!gods are all terrible parents blah blah blah!". it is a lot more nuanced than that; this has literally been shown and discussed many times in the books AND the tv show has written this out beautifully

hades is not a terrible father and nico doesn't hate him. pls read the books, hades and nico's bond gets better and nico is illegally living with him in the underworld, which no demigod, NOT EVEN PERCY, has done with their own godly parent

triton's hatred and jealousy towards percy is valid. imagine watching your father claim to love and care for your mother while having 100s of side pieces and then imagine realizing that he actually LOVES one of the side pieces and LOVES a random demigod child that popped up while you've been loyal to him for thousands of years. imagine him leaving behind his own kingdom and family (leaving YOU) to face oceanus' army because said child asked for his help.

amphitrite does not hate percy. her feelings towards the issue is more bitter, but understanding. that portion of her in the chapter was her realizing just how deep poseidon's love for percy goes and being awed and sad at the same time because she knows poseidon will never love her or their children the same way he loves sally and percy

the latest chapter was never meant to be implied as "amphitrite and triton don't like percy! they bad >:(" pls, like i said before, this is not a black and white fic.

(forgot to add this but: i am perfectly fine if you have your own negative opinions about the pjo characters, but i just want you to know that they are not what i'm going for in my fics. some readers genuinely believe that the pjo!poseidon, anthonius, chiron, sally, grover, hades, etc. in my fic are mean, bad, manipulative, and all kinds of negative things when i've tried to show that they are NOT. arsenic blues is not a pjo bashing fic)

#👸🏻| asks #👸🏻| arsenic blues #👸🏻| rambles #and also sorry for the lack of pics and gifs in my ao3 version #idk i just don't usually see ppl posting pics in there unlike in wattpad and quotev???#so i just stuck with that #but i put pics of any fanarts i get!!!

42 notes · View notes

emeritus-fuckers · 1 year

Note

Personally in this day and age isn;t it fair to at least post that it is 18+ only etc. then it is their choice if they ingore it and carry on. Like you say we all have but at least this way it protects the content creator or person who owns the blog etc and gives the young person a chance to think/makes it their choice? I dunno if that makes any sense I am super bad at explaing stuff. I think now if it didn;t have the warnings and someone reported it you could end up in trouble? I do also understand if you are an adult you would feel uncomfortable interacting with minors and you want your own space to be yourself and have mature content wihtout having to filter or worry who sees it? Again a minor could ignore those warnings but yeah. Its an interesting point though and these are just my thoughts on it and its totally cool to have your opinion too :) Love a Nameless Anon x

I mean, I was pretty much raised on Wattpad so I'm the last person to have an opinion on it, I guess? I've seen it all, Wattpad, Quotev, DeviantArt... Even that one weird Tumblr knock-off. I've been reading and writing this shit for ages.

I've spent the last seven or eight years on Wattpad before fully transferring to Tumblr and while the 18+ thing is normal to me, the whole mdni narrative genuinely confuses me for some reason.

Like, I understand not wanting to deal with minors and shit, but they're not gonna listen. Trust me. They're teenagers, they're on the Internet and they're fucking horny. They will read that. I know I did. And the most the mdni thing does is stop them from leaving a like or something like that.

It could just be the fact that I've recently turned twenty and I have some friends who are still minors and shit, so I don't fully understand. But I know the age limits are not gonna stop them from reading. And if the choice is either them reading horny fanfics or doing weird shit irl, I'd rather them stick to fanfics.

Even in my pinned post, I've stated that it's not my responsibility who reads my posts. Because it's not, it's gonna reach the weirdest people and I know that. So if a minor finds them, it's their call. I'm not their parent to deal with them.

But I guess I haven't fully transitioned from the teen wattpad fanfic author to "the Jez from emeritus-fuckers" because I just... Genuinely don't care? It's their business what they read. I have a target audience, sure, but I can't control what the kids do.

Still, I haven't fully considered the perspective of the writer I guess. Mainly because it has never been an issue for me. I guess one good thing came out of Wattpad? There was never any checking on how old someone is, most people never even added that.

So maybe it's just me being stuck in my own little world. But I genuinely think minors are the least of my worries when it comes to who reads my posts. If they ended up here, it's their problem. And their parents'.

But thank you for your insight. I still find the concept a bit weird, but it did help me gain some perspective.

- Jez

#ask #anon #nameless anon

7 notes · View notes

ma3-author · 2 years

Text

✎ 28 ✉

Previous CH: -ɴᴏᴛᴇ- /// ✎ 00 ✉ /// ✎ 01 ✉ /// ✎ 02 ✉ /// ✎ 03 ✉ /// ✎ 04 ✉ /// ✎ 05 ✉ /// ✎ 06 ✉ /// ✎ 07 ✉ /// ✎ 08 ✉ /// ✎ 09 ✉ /// ✎ 10 ✉ /// ✎ 11 ✉ /// ✎ 12 ✉ /// ✎ 13 ✉ /// ✎ 14 ✉ /// ✎ 15 ✉ /// ✎ 16 ✉ /// ✎ 17 ✉ /// ✎ 18 ✉ /// ✎ 19 ✉ /// ✎ 20.1 ✉ /// ✎ 20 ✉ /// ✎ 21 ✉ /// ✎ 22 ✉ /// ✎ 23 ✉ /// ✎ 24 ✉ /// ✎ 25 ✉ /// ✎ 26 ✉ /// ✎ 27 ✉

Arthur, if only you didn't meet Sylvia. Sein won't go through all of that pain. but if it weren't for you two, Sein wouldn't be alive as well.

As you may have noticed, I don't usually update at Tumblr. I'm mostly updating on Wattpad and Quotev. You can view my profile down below and click on the schedule. or more books of mine.

___________________________________

She has lived in that world for over twelve years, considering her young age. She tried to research where she was or who among them was in that world. Not too long after she found the place she was in, she met the twin that she would later befriend and tried to change the fate of one of them. It wasn't as easy as it looked, because while she was changing it, she was looking for a way out.

Soon, the brothers arrived. Things became harder and more challenging for her, but even so, she didn’t give up. Even if she’s gotten hurt to the point of getting caught. To her, in her mind. She needs to go home. She promises herself that once she gets home, she will never turn around and look at them. Leaving it all in her imagination.

She almost didn’t get out because of a certain person. She was so focused on trying to go home that she didn’t notice that her action caused something to stir in that person's mind. That’s why she has a scar—a reminder to always look out. Outside the box

Though it was her fault in the beginning, why does she care? In the first place, she doesn’t even see them as people. Only a character that was just created by a person That’s when she started to feel something about this character. She knew that this would be a problem. A big problem.

Yes, she feels sympathy. But anyone would be as well-versed if they read their story. But soon, she started to have emotion rather than sympathy alone. Is it that she will miss them? Guilty for leaving? Something like that

Why would she have those things when she knew they were just mere characters? Right… Human feelings are really fucked up. Is like what Fredrick is feeling. Maybe this is a new syndrome...

What's more, they’re no longer a character. But a real person.

You have more than three days before you get sent back to that nightmare of a manor again, and this time instead of stopping Gwen from touching Aida, which you prevented on some occasions, Trying to prevent some other unfortunate ones as well. Having a scar because of him, then finally escaping for good only to return.

So confusing… so exhausting... Why is this my responsibility? I didn’t even ask for it...

This time, she didn’t get sent back. Instead, she returns of her own accord. Oh, how she hated that this was her responsibility now. It's like the story gave her a choice. Let them die, or you can go back and try to save them. Why is that even an option?

Again, they’re no longer a character if two worlds exist. The key and book exist. Lady Herior and Lady Fillia are the proof. Which means all the characters are now human beings. You wanted to look for who sent you; ask them. Why me? Why not other people? But that would be a waste of time.

Beside... you’ll just do what you did on the previous mission. This time, you're not the main, you're a background character. That's like a save point for every character, or perhaps she. You can’t do it alone... You're not that crazy to conduct it all on your own; you need her for this mission.

That’s why you're not only a mere background character nor a save point, but a secret helper and merchandiser.

"The Cypress"

___________________________________

Aisha perspective

Tick Tock~

Inside the Dimoche manor lived two twins. While one prefers to read. The other is the opposite of her twin. They didn’t get the chance to see their own mother, but they knew she was as beautiful as the snowflakes. Kind as their father described. Even if they hadn’t inherited her silver locks. For them, they’re thankful that she gave birth to them.

They're already satisfied with what they have. That is when she arrived. They thought their mother got reborn at the same age as them. Different families, statuses, looks But the silver locks gave it away. Just seeing her after the wind blew her silly big hat

Just like a snowflake. Lady Y/N was beautiful. Then it was followed by her kindness. For the first time. Aisha and Aida felt this as motherly love. She treats them equally. Looks at them the same. Spoiled them with these beautiful gifts. She acts more mature than someone her own age should be.

Tick Tock~

Aida didn’t see this. The mature part But Aisha had seen it. She was always happy whenever she got the chance to read and talk about books. Oh, how she misses those days. As soon as the brothers arrived, they ruined the peaceful environment around them. Taking Lady, Y/N

Aisha didn’t let it bother her, but she can’t help it. She was jealous of it. Envy for the others. In her mind, this will end soon. She knew that one day she and her sister would drive Sylvia and her sons away. But that day didn’t happen, as her sister has become blind and deaf.

She tried to stay strong, as one person had supported her, until that very tragic day happened. That shudders her. Even if it hurt her, she knew that the one who was in great pain was her sister, as she was always around her. Just watching her sister staring into a blank space, almost not eating. It scared her. It made her worried.

She did ask for some help... from her fairy tale friend. She knew one person who could think logically and had helped her before. Unlike the other one. But as time passed, days, weeks passed. Cypress never responds. It left her in silence. Did cypress leave her too?

Ding Ding~!

The loud clock had woken Aisha. She immediately jolted upward and sat against her bed. Huffing and panting, she felt sweat covering her forehead. Just now. She dreamed of her again, this time. Y/N was running toward them, shouting something that she didn’t quite hear. Maybe this was better than her previous dream. Instead of seeing her corpse that got molded by a wild animal. After what the police said, she always dreams about it.

*Pant* ‘What was that?’ She grumbled then peeked at her left side, seeing that Aida was still asleep. She can’t help but sigh again. Aida didn’t eat that much today; it really worried her. She quickly stood up from her bed, planning to get some bread sticks and water to give them to her sister.

Aisha won’t lie; she was guilty. She already knew something was up after what Y/N told her about Sylvia, and it was in a hurry. Y/N was in a hurry. Not only that, but the fresh cut in her lips says something. Yet she never did anything to stop her... Aisha knew. That Y/N is still alive. She can feel it.

Or... maybe it was her fault indeed. If only her mind wasn’t clouded on that day, maybe none of this would happen. Maybe Y/N would still be walking alongside her in this dark hallway where the only source of light is the moon. Talking about books. Taking a bite out of the bread and giving her one. But there was only coldness surrounding her.

Tick Tock~

The clock started again, and so did the day. Aida didn’t eat that much again, but for Aisha, it was better than nothing. Right now, the two of them are watching the new housekeeper, who just arrived in front of the manor. The previous one was fired due to old age. They’re watching it through the big window. The same spot where they first spotted Y/N. spotted Sylvia and her sons.

Soon, Sylvia announced that mister Duncan is the manor’s new housekeeper. Unexpectedly, another guess arrived shortly. She was dressed in a simple, non-flashy dress with a cape over it. She arrived with only one suitcase and a note in one hand, giving it to Sylvia Dimoche.

The twins, the brothers, and even the new housekeeper were curious as to who had just arrived. Just by their eyes: This person, whom Sylvia later announced after reading the letter, is a new house worker who would stay and work as a personal maid for the twins. Is not much older than the twins. Only the height is different.

On that note, it was simply a message left by Gwen Dimoche. That was kept by Lady Fillia herself. Sylvia won’t think that it’s fake, as the symbol that is marked on that letter means that only someone higher up, like Lady Fillia, can have access to it. She will get suspicious first, but that soon will be forgotten as she will be busy making love with her long-lost love and her other scheme.

Originally, you planned to go there as a simple maid that got recommended, but with all the work, you won’t have that time to check on them and will be more suspicious that you're following behind them. So you changed it to personal maid. With that, even if you still have some work, It will only be in Aisha and Aida’s surroundings. That can also be the case with the brothers.

The night soon followed. The worker who showed you where you will stay until Aisha and Aida grow older or when you save them all It was a medium-sized space, but there was plenty of room to go around. What you like about this room is that it is near where the twins rooms are. You might have told Grandma to specify the request.

As you thanked the worker. You immediately took out the eye drop as your eyes were so dry after a whole day of introducing yourself to Aisha and Aida. Just looking at them, they’re still wearing a mourning outfit. Aida had gotten a bit thin, unlike her chubby self. This made you feel sympathy for her and panic because this is the second pace after Nemo went to sleep for good but after spotting him in the crowd. you maintain your smiling lips to show up.

Maybe you don't need to force yourself, as someone has already helped you not to smile. Instead, you had bitten your inside lips when your eyes glimpsed at him and made your blood boil. Oh, how you can’t forget what he did. Because of him, you almost didn’t get out of that nightmare. For a mintime. Before tomorrow arrived. You took out all the things you will use. As for the eye drop, You need to be careful while using it. Because back then, people didn’t wear contact lenses.

( Just a quick note: Contact lenses as we know them today were not developed until 1936, when a New York optometrist named William Feinbloom fabricated the first American-made contact lenses and introduced the use of plastic lenses. In 1960, Otto Wichterle from Czechoslovakia developed the material used for the first soft lenses.)

(Now this story is set in 1856, as already written in the title. Now continue.)

Inside the twins' room While one was laying on her bed in a sideways, silents only be heard. One was trying to let her sister eat the breadstick she saved. "Aida, at least have two bites of this bread. You didn’t eat that much at dinner; you could get sick if you keep doing this." Aisha pleaded, sighing, as Aida just looked at her.

Soon she sat up from her bed, taking Aisha’s offer. If Aisha’s worried about Aida, as well as her. Just seeing Aisha’s sad frown, she started eating it, but not for long. She asked her sister something: "Aisha, do you think... that maid had worse than us?"

"Why do you ask that?"

"Her eyes… is so cold. The way she talks is like, she lost something so dear."

Aisha agreed with what Aida said. Their first impression of their personal maid is like the word. They can’t describe That wasn’t the only thing they noticed. Even Sein's hair can't compete with her black raven hair. Her brown, dark eyes It was so dark that they thought they could see their own reflection. Then her height is only a few centimeters higher than theirs. Aisha thought she saw something on her lips, but maybe it was just dirt.

"We don’t know her story, Aida. And we don’t need to know what she’s going through. Don’t compare our grief to a stranger."

"She’s not a stranger; she’s our maid now."

"You’re right. But we still don’t know her; maybe it’s one of Sylvia's schemes."

Aida sighs as Aisha is in it again: "Dear Sister, Madam Sylvia had already told us that it came from Dear Father and was sent by Lady Y/N grandmother. I don’t think it’s Sylvia's scheme... nor do I want to think about it." Just remembering how this maid looks at her... tells her that this maid is in mourning for something bad.

"You might be right, but I know that she’s planning something, finding an opening." I just need some evidence. Aida, believe me." Again, Aisha explained.

Aida gave her a smiling frown and said, "I do believe you, sister... but not now... I’m still grieving."

"I'm sorry, Aida... your right."

"It’s okay; I know it’s also hard for you... Aisha, what do you think she’s doing now? Is she playing with mother and father? Waiting for us?" Aida giggled, and she then looked outside the window, gazing at the many snowflakes raining down on their manor.

Aisha quickly took Aida’s attention, exclaiming. "Aida, don’t think that way! Wherever she is, she wants us to stay strong and always stick together. The same goes to mother and father."

"… Thank you for always looking out for me. Here, I’m already full."

Aisha looked down at the unfinished bread again and at Aida, who had already returned to her usual spot. This was a first for Aisha, and she hopes that she will find that evidence soon before things unexpectedly happen. She hoped that Cypress was just sleeping. Because as of now, she’s struggling. She doesn’t even know how to start.

Maybe she didn’t need to wait any longer when a sudden knock startled her. She first glanced at her sister, who was now fast asleep. "Who is it?" with no response, Aisha quickly made her way to the door. She wasn’t even half way to the door when her eyes spotted a letter on the ground.

She carefully picked it up and opened it without hesitation. As she read every letter, her smile almost broke her stern look. A big smile was displayed on her face. She carefully made her way to her bed, rereading the note again. Like the snowflakes that cover the road. It will soon be removed once the light shines down.

+I did leave, but... I returned; I will help you now, but we need patience. Did you remember what I wrote last time?+

"Of course. "Don't rush; wait and find the right time."

As Aisha Dimoche and the previous Y/N Pellereli, which now goes by the name F/N or Cypress by Aisha, are already in the set, The only thing missing now is finding the right time. Set it back before the clock resets again. Before anyone could see that the little hand was in the wrong spot,

…. Tick tock

___________________________________

"Some of you have secretly brought uneaten food and unused ornaments back home. From now on, I’ll do spot checks every day, and I hope that all of you know how to be grateful and repay the mistress with your hard work."

As Arthur, who now goes by Mister Duncan, explained all the new ground rules inside the Dimoche manor, a new housekeeper was doing his job. He continued to explain it. "You must know that-- You may never be able to find another job that is as good as this. Pass on what I’ve said to the other odd-job workers in this manor."

At that point, all the servant could do was obey his command. Not too far from where Mister Duncan is standing are three girls at the entrance. Aisha was telling Aida about the serious matter that was now being held in front of them. You agreed with Aisha when she said it was unfair, but all they could do was bear with it.

"Mister Lance is at an old age already; it isn’t a bad thing to get a younger housekeeper. Right F/N?"

"Yes, Miss Aida."

Aisha eyed carefully the maid standing not too far from them, her head bowing. Never looking at them. Every answer is always short and precise. After getting woken up by their personal maid, even though they had never had any personal maids before and this was all new to them, their morning routine has become quicker and they are always on time.

Can be their lessons, breakfast, and walking. Aisha finds it weird as to how this maid knew their routine when it’s only a day. She asked her about it, as it was very suspicious. The answer she got was that Sylvia had told her all the things the twin needed. It need to be in exact time, right food. And always in their classes. Like how Sylvia wants them to be noble people.

Aida sympathized with their maid, finding it so hard to do all of that just for them. Aisha is still cautious around this maid. Even if Lady Fillia was the person to send that note. It might be fake. For now, her guards are still up.

You figure this will happen. Which wasn’t surprising, as she did it back then, when you first met them. Even if you can’t get close to any of them. The goal is to prevent the unforeseen. It would be a miracle if one of them got close to a mere maid at that time (masters, dukes, or the lady of the house). are rarely in a long conversation with a servant. Only a Q and A action

"Have you eaten F/N?"

"I have; thank you for asking, Miss Aida."

"That’s good… " For some reason, Aida found herself staring at her. It’s like this maid looks familiar in some way that she can’t explain. Maybe she was just used to having her deceased friend by her and her sister's sides. Like this maid, just fill in a blank-

"Is something wrong, Miss Aida?"

Aida quickly snapped out of her thoughts. "It’s nothing." She then glanced at Aisha, who had been watching her from the start. "Sister, is everything okay?"

"Yes… just not used to having a maid beside us. Sorry." As it has always been their friend.

"It’s okay, Miss Aida. Would you like me to move away?"

"N-no! You can stay"

With a single nod, you stayed in your spot. As the twins continued talking, you carefully looked past them to the person who was adjusting his eyeglasses. Mister Duncan, or rather Arthur He is the same as you but has a different goal. Even though he's too far away for you to see his full appearance.

"But…"

"What’s wrong?" Aida asks, seeing Aisha’s frowning look.

"I don’t know if it’s just a misperception of mine, but he looks... somewhat like Sein."

You don’t even need to give your opinion on this one, as he looks exactly like Sein. Knowing already that Arthur is Sein's father, you just hope that If Sein already figured out who this person is. It won’t be the same case as yours. But you're positive that he won’t catch you at an early stage or even in the final stage. Why? You disguise yourself by using modern tools.

"...Oh, you noticed it too? I thought so too from the very beginning… " Aida is debating whether she should talk to the new housekeeper, but she doesn’t have any energy, so she just told Aisha that she would return to their room. Aisha could only sigh, who then told you to get some quick snacks and a warm tea.

"Of course, Miss Aisha. It will be there soon." It was worse than you thought it would be. Aida didn't approach Arthur and ask him something.

While you made your way to the kitchen. At Aisha's side. in her head. Maybe this maid won’t be as bad as she thought. with her around. She doesn’t need to always go down and get some food. And with that time, she can go look around while this maid watches over her sister as well.

She now understands that the reason she hasn’t started yet is because she was worried that Aida isn’t eating properly and is alone. Even if she will feel guilty for leaving her sister alone with this maid. This is the only chance she gets, as the maid also has a duty to fetch her. Not only that, but Cypress had given her the first thing she would do.

But for now, she will wait a week or so before she begins it. She needs to see first if this maid is up their alley or not. While Aisha escorted her sister. Here you are walking toward the kitchen to get some food for Aida and Aisha. Even though it’s risky, you still did it. With the tea you made. The tea you learned to earn their trust at first and at Gwen This tea can calm their nerves. It also helps yours.

You made sure that you only brewed enough for three people. No one can taste this tea. It was a bad idea to use it on the brothers as well. Luckily, you never did it to Sylvia.

"That smells good~ Did you make it?"

You wanted to click your tongue so hard when this person blocked your view. You thought he already left and smoke whichever place he could do so. You even made this tea at the right time, as he ordered the servant to tell it to the others. So you have the whole kitchen to yourself.

That time was too early, as Arthur, or rather, George Duncan, had blocked your path and was now waiting for your reply. You wanted to ignore him, but that would be rude and suspicious. Just like they said, like Father. Like son. But you're not comparing Sein to this douchebag. As Sein had things worse. Though you're still pissed about what Sein did.

"No, Mister (douchebag) Duncan. I just grabbed it from a jar." Obviously, you lied.

"Is that so? Then perhaps show me where you got it. I would also want to make my own."

‘Should I just throw this tray at you?’

"I'm afraid that I don’t have the time. The misses is waiting for me, and I need to be there in time. Would you excuse me?" With a stern, cold voice followed by a quick bow, you made your way out, not caring if he looked at you like Sein looks when something catches his interest.

You're not scared, not anymore. After experiencing those things, this is just a hitch. After all, he will be busy making love with Sylvia all night. Stealing money and stuff, oh, as well as talking to Sein later on The coat he would never wear again after Sein commented something.

╰┈➤ ❝ [✎ 29 🕮 ] ❞

___________________________________

Of course, I will add Arthur! to make things interesting! Who wouldn't want a son and a father after MC? Like bonding! Haha, I would. Just going to make MC suffer. (Joke!) Maybe in the future.

Just a reminder, this is also an obsessive/passive/aggressive/Yandere book. so good luck! mostly me, as I need to come up with the story haha.

══════════ ⋆★⋆ ══════════

More books of mine

NEW CHAPTERS: SCHEDULE OF UPLOADING

Sequel for the next chapter

#aishamanga #aisha #sein #manhua #horror #webtoon

9 notes · View notes