#i just feel it was a little more in character | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fangdokja · 2 days ago

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🔞Every glance you give someone is a dagger in his heart, and he's ready to make you bleed.

❤︎ Synopsis. In the shadows of his love, your every breath becomes a betrayal. His jealousy is a silent poison, and you are its only cure—or its next victim.

♡ Book. Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Mr. Reca x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Mydei x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Anaxa x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Phainon x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. Falling Into Darkness - Part 2

♡ Word Count. 8,536

♡ TW. dom + top + older + slightly sadistic yandere, general non-con + manipulation, rape, psychological + mental conditioning, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, rough play and sex, psychological + emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances, threats, Stockholm Syndrome, name calling, slight degradation, humiliation, choking, slapping, fingering, forced oral, forced penetration, orgasm control, orgasm denial

♡ Note. This was made before the official releases of characters, so be warned that some information may be inaccurate once additional lore comes out.

♡ A/N. I'm so mindblocked lol. Horror content is not cooperating with me this week. Genuinely tweaking rn. So, time for some long-awaited vanilla yandere content, before I ruin these characters dead-dove style. haha jk jk maybe. This is mostly a prequel to my actual dead dove style. Also, I did not mean to make this spicy... it just happened when I was experimenting, but oh well. Don't expect anything intense though, just generic vanilla sex. Tch, boring vanilla rape. But I can't put intense sex yet, because I'll go overboard with the word count. It's why I'm separating each character with their own unique dead dove AHD sex style for the SNAPPED Jealousy headcanons.

♡ Mr. Reca.

"You’re mine, every piece of you—don’t you dare forget it. If anyone else dares to claim even a fraction of you, I’ll tear them apart with the same hands that make you scream my name."

The film reels of jealousy and desire—that’s how he would describe it. It’s never just rage that ignites Mr. Reca’s blood when someone else dares to linger too long in your shadow or lets their voice settle too comfortably in your ears. No, his jealousy is something far more visceral, more layered, more artful. He doesn’t just feel it; he directs it, letting it curl around his mind like the smoke of an old projector, every scene carefully composed to bring him closer to you. And when his jealousy crescendos into action, it is a masterpiece of possessive control and agonizing intimacy.

He sees you standing there—your figure illuminated by a faint and indifferent light, a half-smile on your lips as someone else dares to reach into his frame, contaminating the edges of his perfect shot. You don’t notice it at first, the way his dark eyes narrow, calculating and predatory, as though you are a wayward actress forgetting her role. You’re too distracted, too naïve, too willing to let your attention stray.

But not for long.

"You’re quite the little performer, aren’t you?" His voice is warm, teasing, as if you’re still unaware of the undertow beneath his words. The others in the room may laugh at his seemingly harmless tone, but you feel the subtle coil tightening around you. There’s always that edge of danger, of barely concealed madness, in the way he speaks. And as he takes measured steps toward you, his towering frame eclipsing everything else, you begin to realize you’re already in his trap.

Later, when it’s just the two of you, his true colors bleed through. His hands—so deft, so controlled when holding a camera or framing a shot—grip your wrists with precision that borders on clinical, pinning you against the cold, unforgiving wall of his studio. There’s no escape here. The room smells faintly of old film and chemicals, a suffocating aroma that mixes with the heat of his breath on your neck.

"Did you think I wouldn’t notice? That I wouldn’t see you handing out smiles to someone else like a whore handing out free tickets? Let me tell you something, darling…" His lips curl into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, his teeth grazing the delicate shell of your ear. You flinch, and he chuckles low and dangerous, the sound vibrating through your entire body. "I notice everything. Every flicker of your eyes, every shift in your tone, every breath you take that isn’t meant for me."

His jealousy isn’t just anger; it’s possession laced with hunger, a ravenous need to mark and claim every inch of you. He doesn’t just want to punish you for daring to let someone else see your light; he wants to remind you of what you belong to—who you belong to. His hands trail down your body, slow and deliberate, as though you’re something to be dismantled piece by piece. He doesn’t ask for permission. Why would he? In his eyes, you’re already his—have always been his.

"Do you think they could touch you like this?" he growls, his fingers digging into your skin just hard enough to make you gasp. The sound sends a shiver of satisfaction through him, his smirk widening. "Do you think they could make you feel this...helpless? This raw? No one else will ever get this close to you, not while I’m alive."

And he means it. He would burn entire galaxies to ensure it.

The intimacy is suffocating, a blend of terror and thrill that leaves you trembling. He drinks in your fear as if it’s the finest wine, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic pleasure that borders on reverence. His lips find yours—not to kiss, but to devour, his teeth biting down just enough to remind you of the power he holds. His touch is everywhere, overwhelming, pulling you deeper into the dark labyrinth of his control.

"You don’t get to look at anyone else, talk to anyone else, breathe for anyone else," he murmurs against your lips, his voice honeyed with venom. His hands tighten their hold, leaving imprints that feel more like brands, as if his touch alone could etch his ownership into your very bones. "And if you try, darling, I’ll make sure you remember why that’s the last mistake you’ll ever make."

His jealousy doesn’t fade when the moment is over; it lingers, a constant shadow that follows you wherever you go. He watches you like a hawk, always poised to swoop in the moment you step out of line. And yet, beneath the suffocating weight of his obsession, there’s something almost tender in the way he looks at you—as if you’re the one thing keeping him tethered to the madness spiraling inside him.

But even that tenderness is sharp-edged, dangerous, a reminder that his love is not something you can escape. It is a cage, beautiful and gilded, with bars made of his unyielding devotion and walls built from his insatiable need. And as you stand there, trembling beneath him, you know there’s no way out.

———

The air between you is thick—charged with something that crackles like the flickering reels of a forbidden film, a masterpiece only the two of you will ever see. You can feel him, the heat of his body pressing close, his fingers tracing idle patterns down your arms before gripping your wrists once more, this time with something more than just control. There’s want in the way his thumbs press into your pulse points, a quiet thrill in the way he feels your blood racing beneath his touch.

"Look at you," he murmurs, voice dark with amusement. "So easy to rile up. So easy to break."

You don’t respond. You can’t. Not when his mouth trails lower, ghosting over your jawline, the rough scrape of his teeth barely grazing your skin. Your breath hitches as he tilts your chin up with two fingers, forcing your gaze into his. Those dark eyes burn with something predatory, something deeper than mere jealousy—it’s hunger, raw and insatiable, and it’s all for you.

"You like this, don’t you?" he breathes, his lips brushing yours, not kissing—teasing, taunting, waiting for the moment you finally shatter beneath him. "The way I claim you. The way I remind you who you belong to."

His hands move—one curling possessively around your throat, not tight enough to hurt, but just enough to make you aware of his dominance, of the power he holds over you. The other drags down, fingertips ghosting over your collarbone before slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt. His touch is deliberate, a slow descent that makes you ache with the anticipation of what’s coming.

"You can pretend all you want," he continues, his breath hot against your ear, "but your body knows. It always does."

And then, suddenly, he presses you harder against the wall, his knee slotting between your thighs, his touch turning demanding. The moment you let out that quiet, breathless gasp, his smirk widens.

"That’s it," he purrs. "There’s my good girl."

He doesn’t wait. He doesn’t ask. He never does. Because you are his—his to own, his to ruin, his to worship in the way only he knows how. His fingers move lower, slipping beneath fabric, finding the heat of you, the evidence of just how much his jealousy has already claimed you.

"You’re dripping," he chuckles darkly, his fingers tracing over your slickness with agonizing leisure. "And all because I reminded you that you belong to me. Should I make you say it, sweetheart?"

He pushes one finger inside, slow and unrelenting, watching the way your body responds to him, watching the way your lips part in a strangled sound you barely contain. It’s intoxicating—the way you tremble, the way you fight against the pleasure even as he coaxes it out of you.

"Say it," he commands, his voice dropping into something lethal, something that leaves no room for disobedience. His grip tightens around your throat, not enough to hurt, but enough to send another wave of heat pooling low in your stomach.

You swallow, your body betraying you, your mind spiraling as his fingers work you open, slow and devastating.

"I…"

He doesn’t let up. Another finger joins the first, stretching you, teasing you, driving you closer to the edge you both know you won’t be able to resist for long.

"Say it," he growls, his lips brushing against your ear as his pace quickens, as he forces you closer to that delicious, agonizing release.

And when you finally break, when you finally let the words slip past your lips in a desperate, breathless plea, he only smirks, pressing a possessive kiss against your throat.

"That’s right," he whispers, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Mine."

And he’s nowhere near done with you yet.

His smirk is razor-sharp, dark amusement curling at the corners of his lips as he watches you shatter beneath his touch. But he isn’t satisfied—not yet. No, this is just the prelude, the first scene in a long, unrelenting performance of control and desire.

"You think that’s enough?" His voice is low, velvety, curling around your spine like smoke. "That just saying it once will make me believe you?"

His fingers don’t stop—if anything, they move with more purpose now, curling, pressing against the spot that has you twitching, trembling, your knees weak beneath his relentless grip. You try to catch your breath, try to steady yourself against the wall, but he won’t let you. His free hand snakes around your waist, yanking you closer, crushing you against the solid heat of his body.

"You don’t get to come just because I let you," he murmurs, nipping at the sensitive skin of your throat, leaving marks that bloom under his teeth. "You come when I say. And right now? I don’t think you’ve earned it."

You whimper, a frustrated, desperate sound, and his grin deepens.

"That’s adorable," he chuckles, withdrawing his fingers suddenly—leaving you empty, aching. You make a sound of protest, but he silences you with a bruising kiss, his tongue sliding past your lips, claiming every inch of your mouth with the same ruthless possessiveness he exerts over the rest of you.

"Turn around," he orders against your lips, voice rough with unspoken hunger.

There’s hesitation in the way you move, in the way you glance at him with wide, hazy eyes. He sees it, and it makes something primal flare in his chest. His hand grips your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Now."

A command, sharp as a blade.

You obey. Of course you do. Because no matter how much you fight, no matter how much you resist, your body already knows who it belongs to.

He presses you against the cold wall, his body flush against yours, his arousal hot and demanding against the small of your back. His hands make quick work of your clothing, pulling, tearing, stripping you of anything that separates him from what’s his.

"You wanted their attention," he growls, one hand fisting in your hair, tugging your head back as his other hand drags down your spine, nails raking over sensitive skin. "Letting them linger too close, letting them think they had a chance."

He laughs, a sound laced with dark amusement.

"They never did. And I’ll make sure they know it."

And then—he’s pressing inside you, slow, unyielding, filling you in a way that has you gasping, clawing at the wall, struggling to take all of him. He groans against your ear, his breath ragged, his control hanging by a thread as your body adjusts around him, gripping him like you were made for him.

"Fuck—" He barely gets the word out before his teeth sink into your shoulder, a possessive, unrelenting mark. "That’s it. Take it. Take what’s mine."

He doesn’t start slow. He doesn’t ease you into it. He sets a brutal pace from the start, dragging you back onto his cock with every thrust, forcing you to feel every inch of him. His grip on your hips is bruising, his fingers digging into your flesh with the kind of desperation that borders on madness.

"Let them hear you," he growls, voice thick with lust. "Let them hear who you belong to."

You try to muffle your moans, but he won’t allow it. His hand slides up, wrapping around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your head spin, to remind you that every breath you take belongs to him.

"You love this," he hisses against your ear, his pace unrelenting. "Being fucked like this. Being ruined like this. Tell me."

You can barely think, barely speak, but he doesn’t let up until you do—until you gasp out the words he’s been waiting for, until you beg him not to stop, until you tell him, over and over again, that you are his. Only his.

And when you finally break again—when pleasure slams into you so violently that your vision whites out—he follows with a groan, spilling inside you, burying himself to the hilt, making sure that even your body remembers who owns it.

He doesn’t pull away immediately. No, he stays there, still inside you, pressing lazy, possessive kisses along the curve of your neck, savoring the way you tremble, the way you sag against the wall, completely wrecked.

"You’re never running from this," he whispers, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk. "Not now. Not ever."

And you believe him.

Because you know, deep down, there is no escape.

You belong to him.

Now, always, forever.

♡ Mydei.

“Every time they look at you like that, I can’t help but wonder how much I’ll enjoy ripping their eyes out, watching them beg for forgiveness... while you scream my name, knowing you’re already mine.”

He’s watching you again.

Not the casual glance of someone observing from a distance, but the dissecting, scalpel-sharp gaze of a man who intends to understand you down to your barest threads. Mydei’s eyes, an unholy mix of apathy and predation, track your every movement as if cataloging the way your lips part, the delicate tremor of your fingers as you shift uncomfortably under the weight of his stare.

He doesn’t look away, and why would he? You’re the one trespasser in the chaotic web of his mind—an anomaly, a puzzle he has no desire to solve but every intent to shatter and claim as his own.

Jealousy is not a storm with him. It’s a silent poison that seeps through his veins and curdles his usually indifferent demeanor into something sharper. He thrives on control, a man who can reduce enemies to pulp with efficiency and precision, but with you? Oh, with you, the control unravels. It burns like acid behind his ribcage when someone dares to stand too close, when they look at you like you might just save them from the abyss.

They don’t realize you’re already lost. That he has taken you, even if your body hasn’t yet realized it.

There’s something raw about the way he prowls toward you in moments like these—jealousy coiling tightly around his chest. The man you know, or thought you knew, is eclipsed by the darker urges buried beneath his skin. Mydei doesn’t explode, doesn’t shout or rage when the green-eyed beast rears its head. No, he moves with purpose, with silence, with the kind of quiet horror that lets you feel the heavy weight of his presence before you see him appear at your side.

“Who was that?” His voice is low, deceptively calm, a rich baritone that makes your stomach knot. It’s the quietest he’s ever been, and yet it terrifies you more than any outburst.

The words catch in your throat. You don’t know what to say. What could you possibly say to a man who looks at you like he’s starving?

But his hand comes next—cold, rough, and unrelenting. He grips your chin, forcing your face up toward him. “Do you think I don’t see the way you smile at them? That coy little glance? Or are you too naive to understand how that feels? I’ve seen men kill for less, you know.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and there’s something almost clinical about the way he looks at you, as though debating which piece of you to dismantle first.

His thumb strokes your cheek, a grotesque parody of tenderness. You flinch, but his grip only tightens, the faint sting a warning more than a punishment. “Do you know what they’ll see when they look at you tomorrow?” he whispers, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Nothing. Because they won’t have eyes left to look with.”

Your heart lurches, a mixture of fear and... something darker curling low in your stomach. The way he speaks, the way his words weave between violence and possession—it’s intoxicating, horrifying. You should run. You should scream. But the world feels so much smaller in his presence, like you’ve already been swallowed whole.

And oh, he knows it. He can see the way your breath hitches, the shudder that runs through you despite your better instincts. It’s written all over his face—the way he revels in the power he has over you. It’s not enough to take your body, no. Mydei isn’t so simple. He wants to unravel your mind, wants to break you open and piece you back together in the image he’s chosen. He doesn’t just want you; he wants every piece of you to bear his mark.

Later, when the world narrows to just the two of you, his jealousy becomes something more primal. He doesn’t bother hiding the raw need in his movements, the desperation that seeps into the way his fingers trace every inch of your skin. It’s not love. Mydei doesn’t love in the way most men do. His affection is a devouring, brutal force—a hunger that will never be sated, no matter how much of you he consumes.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his voice rough and thick with possession as his hands tighten around your wrists, pinning you beneath him. His weight is suffocating, his touch both cruel and worshipful as though he can’t decide whether to crush you or praise you. “Say it.”

You don’t respond fast enough, and his lips crash against yours, bruising, punishing, and claiming all at once. He pulls back just enough to speak, his breath hot and ragged against your trembling lips. “Say it, or I’ll make you scream it.”

And you do. Because resistance feels pointless, futile against the tidal wave of his dominance. But deep down, there’s a part of you that knows—knows that no amount of pleading will ever be enough to free you from him.

Mydei isn’t the kind of man you escape from. He’s the kind you survive. Or don’t.

———

You never understood how thin the line between love and annihilation could be until he had you beneath him, caged by muscle and rage, his hands branding your wrists against the sheets like iron shackles. Mydei’s jealousy when you're alone with him was not a flickering ember—it was a consuming wildfire, roaring through every synapse of his body, and you were the oxygen feeding it.

“I should kill them,” he muses, as if discussing a minor inconvenience. “Gut them like the useless insects they are. Then, maybe you’d understand.” His grip tightens. “You are mine.”

He didn't just want to own you—he needed to. The thought of another so much as looking at you with hunger, breathing the same air you exhaled, sent a sickness crawling through his veins.

"Say it," his voice was molten, dripping with something darker than fury. A command, not a request. "Who do you belong to?"

Your lips were swollen, bruised from his kiss—if it could even be called that. It had been an assault, a declaration of war, his teeth claiming the softest parts of you as if biting down hard enough would tattoo his name inside your skin. He loomed over you, sweat slicking his broad frame, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. The heat between your thighs was unbearable, a mixture of shame and something primal, something ugly and needy that he had forced out of you.

"Say it," he growled again, fingers tightening around your throat, not enough to cut off air completely—no, Mydei was far too controlled for that—but enough to remind you that every breath you took was his to grant.

The moment your lips parted, even before you could surrender, he was inside you—stretching, splitting, ruining. There was no preparation, no patience. He wasn’t making love to you—he was destroying you, fucking you into something unrecognizable, something only he would ever be able to piece back together. The sharp sting of pain melted into something else, something worse, something addictive. He could see it in your eyes, the betrayal of your own body, how it welcomed him, clenched around him.

"This," he hissed against your ear, his teeth scraping the sensitive shell, "this is what you were made for. No one else will ever—ever—have you like this."

His thrusts were merciless, punishing. Every snap of his hips drove his point deeper than words ever could, carved his jealousy into your bones. There would be no part of you left untouched, unclaimed, unstained by him. You whimpered, and that sound—it sent him into something beyond madness, something feral.

He pressed your knees higher, forcing you open, spreading you wider beneath him, like a sacrificial offering on an altar built for him alone. The wet, obscene noises of skin against skin, the slick heat binding you together—it was filthy, primal, irreversible. His fingers dug into your flesh, nails biting, bruising, marking. Tomorrow, you wouldn’t be able to walk without remembering this moment. You wouldn’t be able to breathe without feeling him still inside you, stretching you, filling you, consuming you.

"You think anyone else could handle this?" His voice was raw, guttural, an animal barely clinging to reason. "You think anyone else could fuck you like this? Break you like this?"

His hand found your throat again, his grip tightening just enough to make your vision blur, to make the pleasure spiral into something terrifyingly exquisite.

"Answer me."

But there was no answer, not really, because Mydei already knew. He already knew there was no escaping him. Not from this. Not from him. Not when your body had already given him the only answer he would ever accept.

"Do you even know what you do to me?" he grits out, teeth catching your lower lip in a punishing bite before his tongue soothes the wound. "How fucking insane you make me?"

He moves like he wants to break you—wants to ruin you for anyone else, to carve himself so deeply inside you that no one would ever dare lay claim. Each thrust is punishing, deep, deliberate, meant to tear you apart and mold you into something that belongs only to him. He watches you through half-lidded eyes, hunger and fury tangled in his gaze, devouring every twitch, every helpless gasp, every slick, messy sound that escapes your lips.

"That's right," he murmurs, voice dangerously soft as he fucks into you, pace unrelenting, cruel. "Take it. Take everything I give you. There won’t be anything left of you when I’m done—nothing but me."

Your body is his altar, his obsession, his sickness, and he worships you in the only way he knows how—with destruction, with unrelenting, all-consuming filth, with the kind of love that tastes like blood and ruin. His jealousy isn't just a fire—it’s an inferno, and you are helpless in the blaze.

His grip tightens until your bones creak, his breath hot and ragged against your ear as he forces you deeper into the mattress. The weight of him is unbearable, a punishment, a claim—his body branding you as his. The jealousy seethes in his every touch, his nails dragging down your thighs, leaving behind angry welts that throb in time with your pulse.

"You think you can look at him and still walk away from this unscathed?" His voice is pure venom, thick with something far darker than anger, something primal, something sick. "Let me remind you, little thing—there’s nowhere to run when I’m inside you."

Your thighs tremble, spread wide by his knee, a cruel display of submission forced upon you. He drags his tongue down your spine, slow, methodical, savoring the way you shudder beneath him. He doesn’t let up, doesn’t slow—this isn’t about pleasure, not yours anyway. It’s about obliteration, about making sure that no part of you remains untouched, unstained by him. His hips snap forward, ruthless and unforgiving, forcing desperate, broken noises from your throat.

"Louder," he commands, yanking your head back by your hair, forcing you to meet his gaze in the dim, suffocating heat. "If you’re going to let someone else’s eyes linger on you, then they might as well know exactly who you belong to."

The stretch of him is unbearable, a brutal ache that borders on pleasure only because he wills it to be. He leans in, his lips ghosting over your cheek, deceptively soft. "Mine," he rasps, voice molten, dangerous. "Say it."

You barely choke out the word before his pace grows merciless again, dragging you deeper into the abyss of his obsession, into the space where only he exists. There is no escape. There never was. And as his fingers dig deeper into your flesh, forcing you to take him, to bear the full brunt of his possessive hunger, you realize—you don’t want to be saved.

♡ Anaxa.

"Every breath you take around them, every laugh, feels like a knife twisting deeper into me—do you think I won't make you regret it when it's just us, alone in the dark?"

His jealousy was not loud. It was not the kind of tempest that raged in obvious storms or shattered glass in fits of fury. No, Anaxa’s jealousy was the chilling silence that lingered long after the frost had claimed the earth, the quiet certainty of death’s encroaching grip. It was the moment before the blade fell, the breathless tension that promised violence not out of impulse but design.

You didn’t notice at first, not in the way he stared a second too long at the stranger who dared to speak to you with too much familiarity. Nor in the way his hand ghosted over your lower back in public, as though staking a claim in a language no one else could hear. His touch was subtle, his movements measured, but there was an unmistakable weight to them—a promise of ownership, a warning to anyone who thought they could take what belonged to him.

“You think they see you,” he said one evening, his voice soft, almost conversational. You were in the library, the two of you surrounded by tomes that reeked of knowledge and decay. His tone was calm, but his words sliced through the air with surgical precision. “But they don’t. They see an idea, a shadow of who you are. You…you are so much more than that. And they could never comprehend it.”

You didn’t realize he’d moved closer until the chill of his presence seeped into your skin, and when you turned to face him, his expression was unreadable, a mask of control that barely concealed the chaos beneath. His single visible eye gleamed with something darker than anger—something more insidious.

“They don’t deserve your time,” he continued, his gloved hand reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. The gesture was intimate, almost tender, but the slight tremor in his fingertips betrayed him. “They don’t deserve your mind. Or your body.” The last word lingered on his tongue like a forbidden prayer, dripping with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine.

His jealousy festered in the quiet moments, growing like a parasite that fed on every glance you shared with someone else, every smile that wasn’t meant for him. He never confronted you outright, never demanded explanations. Instead, he made himself a shadow, watching, waiting, calculating. The conversations you had with others became ammunition for his obsession, every laugh, every fleeting touch another thread in the intricate web he wove around you.

And then came the night he snapped—not in an outburst of rage, but in the kind of madness that only someone like Anaxa could embody. It was after a gathering, one where you’d spoken too freely, laughed too brightly, and lingered too long near someone else. You returned to your quarters to find him waiting, his silhouette a dark smear against the dim glow of the room.

“You looked…happy tonight,” he said, his voice devoid of warmth. His eye locked onto yours, unblinking, as he stepped closer. “It’s rare to see you like that. I wonder…was it them? Did they make you smile like that?”

Before you could answer, he was on you, his hand curling around your wrist with a force that bordered on painful. His touch was cold, his grip unrelenting, and yet there was an eerie calm to him, as though every movement had been rehearsed in his mind a thousand times.

“I’ve been patient,” he whispered, his breath ghosting over your ear as he pulled you closer. “I’ve given you freedom. Space. And yet…you still stray.” His lips brushed against your neck, a featherlight touch that sent a jolt of fear and something darker coursing through you. “Do you know what that does to me?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he pressed you against the wall, his body a cage that left no room for escape. His hands roamed over you with a desperation that felt like possession, each touch a claim, each kiss a brand. “You’re mine,” he murmured against your skin, his voice trembling with a mixture of anger and longing. “You’ve always been mine. And if I have to remind you, I will.”

His jealousy was not an explosion—it was a slow, suffocating burn, a fire that consumed everything in its path until there was nothing left but ash. He didn’t just want your love; he wanted your submission, your surrender. He wanted every piece of you, mind and body, stripped bare and laid at his feet. And in the moments where his control slipped, where his hunger overpowered his reason, you saw the depth of his madness—the lengths he would go to keep you, to ensure that no one else could ever take you from him.

“You don’t understand,” he said once, his voice breaking as his hands framed your face, forcing you to look at him. “You can’t understand. I’ve seen the end, the void that waits for all of us. And you…you’re the only thing that keeps me tethered to this world.” His lips found yours then, harsh and unyielding, a clash of desperation and desire that left you gasping for air.

And as the night stretched on, as his jealousy consumed you both, you realized that there was no escaping him. Not because he wouldn’t let you—but because a part of you, the part he had meticulously broken and rebuilt in his image, didn’t want to leave.

———

"You can run, but you won’t get far."

Anaxa’s voice is a razor against your skin, soft, deliberate, laced with the kind of quiet promise that sends a shiver straight through you.

You should have known better.

You should have never let that stranger’s hand linger too long on your wrist, should have never let their voice settle too comfortably in your ears. Because he saw. He always sees.

And now, you’re here—pinned, bound, trapped—back arched against the cold surface of his desk, the scent of parchment and candle wax thick in the air, nearly drowned out by the heat radiating from him.

"You really don’t understand what you’ve done, do you?" His single visible eye gleams in the dim light, hunger and fury warring beneath the surface as his gloved fingers trail down your throat, pressing just enough to make your breath hitch. "You give your attention so freely—laughing, touching, tempting—as if you aren’t already mine."

His hands are cruel, teasing, gliding lower, parting your thighs without hesitation, without permission—because you have no permission to give. You belong to him. Your body, your pleasure, your very breath—it’s all his.

And he’s going to remind you.

A sharp, punishing slap lands between your legs, sending a jolt of pleasure-laced pain through your entire body. You whimper, your back arching instinctively, but it only makes him laugh—a dark, mocking sound that vibrates against your throat as he presses his lips there, kissing, biting, branding you with his teeth.

"Look at you," he murmurs, voice rough with barely restrained lust. "Falling apart already. And I haven’t even begun."

His fingers plunge into you, spreading, stretching, as his other hand tightens its grip on your throat. Slow, merciless, unrelenting.

"You don’t deserve my patience," he breathes, lips dragging down your chest, teeth scraping, biting, marking. "You deserve to be ruined."

And he does.

He takes everything—drags his gloved fingers through your slickness, spreading it, smearing it across your thighs like proof of your surrender. When he replaces them with his tongue, his mouth is just as vicious, lips and teeth working in perfect cruelty, leaving you writhing beneath him, desperate, needy.

But Anaxa doesn’t let you fall so easily.

No, he stops—pulls back just enough to make you feel the loss, to leave you shaking and ruined, right at the edge of oblivion.

"You want to come?" he taunts, voice like silk, wicked and knowing. His gloved fingers ghost over your soaked heat, but never give you what you need. "Then beg."

Your pride wants to resist—but you can’t.

Not when he’s watching you like this, eyes dark with amusement and pure, unfiltered ownership. Not when his knee is pressing between your legs, forcing you open, forcing you to want.

So you break. Of course you break.

"Please," you whisper, voice barely above a breath. "Please—please, I need—"

The sharpest, filthiest grin spreads across his lips.

"Oh, sweetheart," he coos, dragging his fingers achingly slow over your sensitive, desperate heat. "You need? Be more specific, my dear."

His hands move suddenly—gripping your thighs, flipping you over, pressing your chest against the desk.

"Then take it."

There’s no more patience. No more teasing.

Anaxa buries himself inside you, one sharp, punishing thrust that sends your breath shattering into a cry. Stretching you, filling you, claiming you.

"You feel that?" he growls, his gloved hand fisting in your hair, yanking your head back as his hips snap against you, relentless, ruthless, unforgiving. "That’s me. That’s mine. Every inch of you—mine."

And he doesn’t stop.

Not when you gasp his name, not when you clench around him so tightly he groans, not even when your body trembles beneath him, overwhelmed and wrecked beyond recognition.

He pounds into you with a fury that is both punishment and devotion, his gloved fingers finding your throat again, his other hand slipping lower, rubbing circles against your swollen, aching clit, forcing you into pleasure so unbearable it borders on pain.

"You think anyone else could take you like this?" His voice is breathless, hungry, filled with something dark and twistedly reverent. "You think they could break you like I do? Make you scream for them like this?"

The coil inside you snaps so violently that your legs nearly give out. But he doesn’t let you fall—he holds you, forces you through it, fucking you through the aftershocks, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure until you’re nothing but a shaking, ruined mess beneath him.

And still—still—he doesn’t let go.

His lips find your ear, whispering the last thing you’ll ever need to know.

"This is what you wanted, isn’t it?"

He smirks when you don’t answer—when you can’t answer.

And then, with a slow, devastating thrust that makes your entire body shudder, he growls—

"Say it."

After all, that was all you were trained to do, lest he punish you once more.

♡ Phainon.

"Every time you smile at someone else, I feel the urge to ruin you—piece by piece—until you understand that no one else can make you feel what I do, not even close."

Phainon had always been the portrait of refinement. His words, smooth and calculated, dripped with an almost divine grace that made those around him lean in just to catch every syllable. He carried himself like a savior—a self-anointed guardian of the universe, an eternal being who bore the weight of countless lives with a smile as serene as the still surface of a poisoned lake.

But beneath the godlike composure lurked something darker, something jagged and unyielding. He had perfected the art of patience, of wearing his charisma like armor, yet when it came to you, his façade cracked, if only slightly. The thought of you—his delicate, radiant, fragile little mortal—turning your attention to anyone else was an aberration he couldn’t tolerate. It made his carefully constructed calm unravel, one golden thread at a time. And for someone like Phainon, unraveling wasn’t a descent into chaos. No, it was a meticulous, deliberate destruction of anything—or anyone—that dared to take you from him.

Today, it had been a smile. A brief, fleeting smile you had offered to another—an insignificant flicker of kindness you likely thought nothing of. But to Phainon, that smile was a betrayal. His, his, his. It was supposed to be his privilege, his right, to see that softness, that vulnerability. And now, someone else had stolen what was his by design.

He didn’t confront you immediately. That would have been too simple, too crude. No, Phainon preferred to let his fury simmer, curling and twisting inside him until it became something potent enough to wield. You didn’t even notice the subtle shift in his demeanor when he approached you later that evening. His smile was as warm as ever, his blue eyes alight with something you mistook for affection.

But then the door clicked shut, and the lock twisted into place. The sound echoed in the room, sharp and deliberate, and when you turned to face him, the air between you was heavy, suffocating. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

“You’ve been very... lively today,” he began, his voice smooth and measured, each word carefully chosen. His tall frame cast a long shadow over you as he stepped closer, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. “That sparkle in your eyes—it’s lovely. Was it him who put it there?”

Your stomach dropped, and you took a cautious step back, but the corner of the table stopped you. His gaze pinned you in place, unwavering, and there was no mistaking the steel behind his gentle tone.

“I wonder what you said to him,” he mused, his head tilting slightly as if he were genuinely curious. “What could possibly have made you smile like that? Did he compliment you? Make you laugh? Or perhaps... did he touch you?” The last question came out softer, but it hit you like a slap, the weight of it heavy with accusation.

“I didn’t—” you started, but the words faltered under his piercing stare.

“Did I ask for excuses?” he interrupted, his voice still maddeningly calm. His hand reached out, his fingers brushing against your jaw, tilting your face upward so you couldn’t avoid his gaze. His touch was gentle, almost tender, but the intensity in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re avoiding the question, my dear. And you know how much I hate being ignored.”

The grip on your chin tightened—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of the strength behind it, the strength he could so easily unleash if he wanted to. “You think I don’t see it? The way you invite attention without even realizing it. You make it so easy for them to believe they have a chance with you, don’t you?” His tone was still calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it now, a simmering anger barely contained beneath the surface.

When you tried to pull away, he let you, only to catch your wrist in a vice-like grip a moment later. His smile returned, but it was sharp and humorless, his blue eyes glowing faintly as the room seemed to grow colder. “Ah, there it is,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over the pulse point in your wrist, feeling the frantic beat of your heart. “That fear. That delicious, exquisite fear. You know, I envy it—because it means you still have something left to lose. But don’t worry, my darling. I’ll take it all away soon enough.”

He pulled you closer, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You don’t understand, do you? You’re mine. Every thought, every breath, every inch of your soul—it all belongs to me. And I’ll make sure you never forget it.”

Before you could respond, his lips descended on yours in a kiss that stole the air from your lungs. It wasn’t soft or tender—it was a claim, a punishment, a reminder of his dominance. His hands roamed your body with a possessiveness that left no room for argument, as if he were mapping every inch of you, ensuring there was no part of you he hadn’t claimed.

When he pulled back, his breath was ragged, his eyes dark with an unholy mixture of desire and madness. “You’ll stay with me,” he murmured, his forehead pressed against yours. “Not because you want to, but because you have no other choice. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll shatter every door, burn every bridge, destroy every hope you have of escaping me. And when there’s nothing left, you’ll see that you were always meant to be mine.”

———

The weight of his body pressed you down, his breath hot against your ear, the shuddering exhale betraying restraint he was seconds from shattering. His fingers, calloused from years of wielding his claymore, dragged down your spine with aching deliberation, savoring the way you trembled beneath him. "Mine," he whispered, the syllable drawn out like a prayer, or a curse.

His breath is ragged, hot, his lips ghosting over your jaw, your throat, your parted lips—but never quite kissing you, never giving you what you want. His control is slipping, unraveling, but still, he wants to hear you beg.

"Say it again."

His voice is a growl, deep, guttural, animalistic in its need. His fingers tighten around your wrists, pinning them above your head, his other hand crushing your thigh apart, forcing you open, making sure there is nowhere for you to run.

"Tell me who you belong to."

Your breath shudders, your mind blank, drowning in the heat, the pressure, the pure ownership of his touch.

"You," you gasp, barely able to form the word. But it’s not enough.

"Not like that." His teeth scrape against your throat, biting down, sucking bruises into your skin, a mark of possession so deep it will never fade. "Say it like you mean it. Say it like you understand what I’m about to do to you."

You whimper, writhe, your thighs trembling as he grinds against you, slow, devastating, teasing you with the thickness of his cock, with the unbearable pressure that makes you ache, makes you burn, makes you lose every last ounce of shame.

"Phainon," you plead, desperate, mindless, completely ruined.

And that’s when he snaps.

His fingers thread into your hair, yanking your head back, exposing your throat to his teeth as he slams into you, all at once, stretching you, forcing you to take him, forcing your body to mold around him.

The force of it steals the air from your lungs.

A strangled, broken cry escapes you, but he doesn’t slow, doesn’t give you a moment to adjust. No, he drives himself into you, deeper, harder, merciless, relentless, so fucking big it feels like he’s splitting you apart, ruining you, reshaping you into something that can only ever belong to him.

"Mine," he growls, his voice shaking with need, with pure possession. His hand wraps around your throat, not squeezing, just feeling the way your pulse races beneath his fingers. "Do you feel that?" His hips snap forward, forcing you to take every inch, burying himself inside you so deep it makes your toes curl.

You can’t speak. You can’t breathe.

"You were made for this," he whispers, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. "Made for me."

There was nothing gentle in the way he claimed you. His grip on your wrists was bruising, pinned tightly above your head as his mouth descended upon you, ravenous, unyielding. He bit down on your throat, leaving marks that would never truly fade, his tongue following in their wake, soothing, as if apologizing for the possessive violence of his touch. But you knew better. There was no regret in him—only hunger, only the furious need to carve himself into your very being, to make you feel him in the marrow of your bones.

Each thrust was punishing, measured, tearing gasps from your throat as your body burned beneath his. The air between you was thick with heat, with the scent of sweat and something darker—something raw and desperate. His name spilled from your lips, but that wasn’t enough for him. His fingers found your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze, eyes dark with obsession. "Say it again," he demanded, his voice rough, shaking with the effort of holding himself together. "Tell me who you belong to."

You barely had the breath to respond, but the moment you did, he rewarded you with something deeper, something harsher, his pace quickening until the world around you blurred into nothing but him. His teeth raked across your skin, his hand slipping between your thighs, drawing out cries he swallowed with his mouth, feeding off the way you unraveled beneath him.

His hand slips between your thighs, fingers finding that sensitive, swollen place, rubbing in slow, teasing circles. The contrast is unbearable—his brutal pace, the gentleness of his touch.

His grip tightens as his pace picks up, brutal, overwhelming, devastating. Every thrust pushes you higher, higher, spiraling toward ruin, your body completely at his mercy, his cock dragging against the deepest parts of you, pushing you into a haze of pleasure so sharp it borders on pain.

"You like this, don’t you?" he taunts, breathless, wrecked, but still in control. "Being fucked like this—pinned down, stretched open, completely owned. Tell me."

"Yes," you sob, your body trembling, clenching around him, dragging a low, broken groan from his lips.

That’s all he needs.

With a harsh, guttural curse, his pace turns punishing, primal, fucking you like he wants to break you, like he wants to carve himself so deep inside you that no one else will ever reach you again.

"Say my name," he demands, his voice a low snarl, his hand slipping down, rubbing you faster, harder, forcing you closer to the edge.

You scream it.

And then you shatter.

Your entire body locks up, pleasure slamming into you so hard it steals the air from your lungs, dragging you under, drowning you in a release so intense it borders on agony.

But he doesn’t stop.

No—he rides you through it, chasing his own pleasure, his rhythm stuttering as he loses himself, burying himself as deep as he can go, groaning your name like a prayer as he spills inside you, claiming you in the filthiest, most undeniable way possible.

But it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

Your world is reduced to the weight of him, the sheer power caging you against the bed, against the force of his body, against the raw, overwhelming intensity of Phainon’s hunger.

His grip tightened as he drove himself deeper, chasing that place inside you where pleasure curled dangerously close to pain. "No one else will ever touch you like this," he murmured, a promise, a warning, punctuated by another thrust that left you gasping. "No one else will ever have you the way I do."

The weight of him collapses over you, his breath hot, ragged, his lips pressing against your sweat-damp skin, murmuring something—something possessive, something final.

"You’ll never leave me."

A promise.

A threat.

A fucking vow.

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Forbidden Fruits”: @uniquecutie-puffs , @belovedoftheanemoarchon , @tnsophiaonly , @mokingbrd78k , @cooldeermagazine , @mimitk , @xileonaaaa , @acacia-koi , @purple-obsidian , @waterfal-ling , @jjune-07 , @jsprien213 , @crimson-kisses , @tinandabin , @sashakittycloud , @songbirdgardensworld , @monamuskay

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2 [you are here]. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. ♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.

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brainwashedsmogbreathingprincess · 2 days ago

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As black history month in America approaches, I really want to see more black batman/batfam content. Give Duke Thomas his flowers, more recognition for the Fox family. Fuck it even fanon versions, bring back John boyega red hood. And on that note if you think race swapping is wrong, question why Selina is allowed to be black in everything apart from comics (yes Eartha kitt but even then why was that fine for you). Black Bruce Wayne and all the interesting questions that brings to his character.

What does blackness look like in gotham. Especially with the state in batman comics today with the fear mongering present currently. What's it like for the average black person living in gotham city, do they actually trust their heroes? did they ever bring an unconscious bias to crime fighting and before we're quick to claim our heroes as perfect symbols of justice, think on their backgrounds and how much they'd have to learn and unlearn to get to that point.

Like more on Duke Thomas because imagine how that would have felt. Being black and in this city where the politicians don't help you, where you most probably had family members that did what the needed to do to survive and provide who came out of those choices with broken bones and scary stories about the creature your city hails as a knight. Imagine one day, in the middle of the day, when you thought you're alone and nobody was coming for you, you're saved. You're saved by a figure in bright yellow and when he speaks, his words are like yours and his skin is only a couple shades off and he most probably smiles and shines a little bit. Imagine the feeling of seeing a streak of yellow dart across the city and feeling like they're there just for you.

#batman #duke thomas #the signal #batfam #black history #black history month #jace fox #lucius fox #tam fox #tiffany fox #luke fox #Selina Kyle #catwoman #batwing #batgirl #dc universe #red hood #jason todd #john boyega

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ckret2 · 2 days ago

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Chapter 84 of human Bill Cipher getting a day pass out of being the Mystery Shack's prisoner: so it turns out Bill and Pacifica have a lot in common! And it's not weird at all! It's—it's very normal. Their childhoods were so normal.

(Since this entire chapter is from the point of view of a character who doesn't know the person she's talking to is Bill, a PSA for those of y'all who missed it. Thanks.)

####

"Okay, that's as much as I can do to help your hair without deep conditioning it," Pacifica said. "Now let's talk about styling it."

They were back in Pacifica's office, with Goldie seated in his folding chair and Mabel sitting in Pacifica's desk chair (slowly spinning it back and forth) as Pacifica lectured them. Pacifica had given Goldie a spare t-shirt to dry his hair with (you could never have too much spare clothing on hand when you were dealing with farm animals), but he'd just loosely wrapped it around his hair and promptly ignored it.

Pacifica said, "You've got this issue where the weight of your curls pulls the top of your hair down and makes it flatten out near your scalp—but your hair's all the same length, so it really flares out near your shoulders. It's called triangle hair and it is not a cute look."

Goldie and Mabel bit their lips and exchanged a look, and Pacifica got the distinct impression that she'd accidentally reminded them about some inside joke she wasn't part of.

Trying to ignore the feeling that she was being left out of something, Pacifica cleared her throat and went on. "So, uh—you can fix it with like, layering your haircut and stuff? But. I don't actually... know how to do that." All her knowledge of curly hair and its care—much less fashionable haircuts—came from fashion and beauty magazines, which covered things like shampoo and flattering styles but assumed you'd leave the actual hair-cutting to the professionals. "So. I can get your curls presentable, and I guess we can figure out a way to pin it that looks nice? But that's the best I can do without an emergency salon trip."

"You sure we can't leave the triangle hair?" Goldie asked innocently. "I think it's cute. It really feels like me." Mabel clapped a hand over her mouth and snorted.

Pacifica raised her brows. "Do you want to feel like you, or do you want to get the guy?"

"Right, of course," Goldie said. "I almost forgot what's really important!"

Pacifica passed Goldie her phone. "Here—I wasn't sure what kind of look you were going for so I saved a few pictures of curly hair styles, let me know if you like any of these." She searched through the collection of makeup on her desk for the bobby pins and hair ties she'd picked up earlier. "The trend this year is for slicked-back styles, braids, and buns—but your curls are so pretty, I'd hate to hide them."

Mabel leaned halfway across the desk to try to see the pictures too; Goldie's held out the phone to meet her halfway as as he scrolled—and scrolled, and scrolled, and scrolled. He said, "Good job narrowing down the list to a modest two hundred pictures."

Pacifica said, "Excuse me for wanting you to have options."

Mabel pointed. "Awww, look at that one with all the little butterfly hair clips!"

"It's like butterflies are eating her brain."

"And they look adorable doing it."

"Too juvenile for me. It looks like something Prisma the fairy would wear," Goldie said. "You should wear it."

Mabel's eyes lit up. "You've got to help me make fifty butterfly hair clips."

"You got it." He closed out of Pacifica's pictures, opened up the browser, and awkwardly typed in a search. "Hey, Alpaca, look at this one."

That was the second time he'd called her that. "Do you actually know my name?"

"Rapunzel." He held up a picture of some seventies movie star with thick, feathery hair that fluffed out around her face like the wings of a panicked swan trying to take off. "Think you can pull this one off?"

Pacifica grimaced. "You'd look like my mom." Except even worse and more old fashioned. (She kept that part to herself.)

Flatly, he said, "Oh no, how will I ever convince a male that I'm a prize worth winning if I literally look like a trophy wife."

That would be just about the only part of Goldie that looked like a trophy wife. (She kept that part to herself too.) "And we'd have to give you bangs."

As she suspected, Goldie grimaced and flipped to another image. At least he knew bang weren't for him. "How 'bout this one?"

It looked like a solid helmet of hair, with the ends uniformly curled outward like the embarrassing forced-whimsical hairstyle of the minions of an insane chocolatier. "Ew. That's about the only thing that could make you look even worse than you already do."

"Pacifica," Mabel said sharply. "Be nice!"

"Sorry!" She'd kept so many parts to herself that she didn't have any spare room to keep that part. "I can't do it, anyway. It would need a flat iron and a curling iron, and I don't have either."

"Can't we get some?" Goldie asked. "Any drug store should have 'em, it's a fifteen minute walk to—"

"I don't use them," Pacifica said sharply.

Goldie's stare was like a heat lamp—or maybe that was just self-consciousness heating up Pacifica's face as he scrutinized her. But after several long seconds, Goldie's gaze turned off her face. She quietly sighed in relief.

"Okay," he said. "Then this one." He showed her another picture. It had curly shoulder-length bangs, which wasn't really in style but fine, but behind them was a bouffant shaped like a deflating basketball with a wilting palm tree sprouting out of it.

Pacifica cringed. It was, unfortunately, doable. A note of pleading in her voice, she asked, "Are you really into this look? Really?"

("I think it's pretty," Mabel muttered.)

"Oh, no way!" Goldie said. "Look at that mess! That's way too much effort for a 'do that looks like she did it drunk in the dark in under two minutes."

(Mabel looked at Goldie like he'd personally betrayed her.)

"But," he went on, "it's what our guy is into, and that's what matters here. Right?"

Pacifica studied the picture dubiously. "You're sure?"

"He went through puberty in the 70s! When his libido opened its eyes for the first time, this is what it imprinted on."

Pacifica bit her lip. Well. At least Goldie didn't think it looked good, but. "Can I at least improve it a little?"

"Oh, please!"

She picked up the comb again and grabbed a couple of bobby pins. "No promises, but I'll do what I can."

Pacifica talked a big game, but in truth, she knew a lot more about the theory of hairstyles than she did about actually styling hair. You don't have to film a blockbuster to be a film critic. So at that point, all she could do was experiment with Goldie's hair as she attempted to approximate the picture he'd shown her. She circled around him as she worked—putting in pins, taking them out, occasionally asking him his opinion.

But although Goldie had previously been a non-stop chatterer, the moment she'd started working on his hair, he'd fallen silent.

He only glanced in the hand mirror she'd given him when she prompted him, and then only to give one-word answers—usually "fine." His shoulders were as tense and his mouth as tight as Pacifica's had been the first time she had to wash alpaca poop off the bottom of a boot. And Pacifica had nearly vommed, so, that was pretty serious.

Why? It couldn't be pain. Pacifica had gotten all the knots out of his hair earlier—and even when she wasn't using the comb, it was like she couldn't even move a lock of his hair without him wincing. She kept wanting to apologize even though she was just doing what he wanted her to.

There was something going on here. It wasn't just how uncomfortable he was with being touched. There was also the way he did an awful job of washing his hair even though he knew how to perfectly well. And how he'd rather let Mabel brush his hair into a frizzy mess than comb it out himself. And beyond all that, the first thing Pacifica had ever learned about him was that he'd gotten his hair melted off and needed emergency help to grow it back. "You... really don't like your hair, do you?"

"I like it fine. It's gorgeous." He was speaking through gritted teeth, and he had his legs crossed with his feet under his thighs, palms up in lap, eyes fixed on the blanket Mabel had made, as though having a staring contest with the triangle creep would help him endure the torture without flinching. "I just—don't like messing with it."

"Which is fine," Mabel cut in. "Because I like brushing it!" She quickly amended herself: "Combing it. We've got like a symbiotic relationship going on."

"Yeah! Star girl's my personal stylist! She does my hair and makeup. I wouldn't deprive her of that honor!"

Pacifica nodded slowly. Right—all that, and he was defensive about not taking care of it.

Not embarrassed because he didn't take care of it, it dawned on her; embarrassed because he couldn't take care of it. She had a sense for those sorts of things—a middle school queen bee had to develop that sense—because that was what you targeted if you really wanted to humiliate someone: something that they couldn't help. That was it, wasn't it? He'd said he was apathetic about his body; he didn't care that his hair was messy. Because if he did care that it was messy, he would have done something about it. Unless he couldn't. Like, a mental block.

As she tried for the eighth time to gather the bulk of his hair into an updo that looked sorta fun and casual without looking stupid, she turned over everything she knew about him—about his hair, his apathy, his shame... the things he'd said to her the moment they met, before they even got started.

It wasn't a logical deduction so much as it was an instinct, and just looking at Goldie it seemed impossible; but still she said, hesitantly, "Your mom made you do pageants as a kid, didn't she?"

Mabel sat up a little straighter, confused; but Goldie turned around to stare at her, dumbfounded. "How— What—makes you think that?"

Oh please. He wasn't fooling anyone, it was all over his face. "You're so weird about your hair. It's obviously trauma from your mom."

Beneath his sunburn, Goldie's burned cheeks somehow managed to flush even darker. He gaped at her, wide-eyed and terrified, like she was a psychic who had just told him how his own parents had died. He croaked, "What?"

Pacifica burst out laughing. "Oh my gosh, you should see your face! Listen, you're clearly familiar with pageant life. And I saw so many curly girls getting their hair mauled by their moms half an hour before going on stage. I don't blame you for being weird about touching it! I had it easy—" she flipped her naturally straight hair, "—but even at that, I can't stand using a flat iron to this day."

Goldie relaxed, apparently reassured that Pacifica hadn't read his mind. He settled back in his seat. "Oh, I dunno, I find the smell of burning hair comforting! It reminds me of home!"

"Ha! Okay, yeah, you do get used to it after a while." She started attempt number nine to gather up his curls. "I wouldn't have guessed when you came in. You don't look like a... I mean... you know. No offense."

"Well, duh, you can't tell now." He gestured at himself, "I lost my good looks. What I wouldn't give to have my old body back..." He sighed wistfully.

Pacifica held back a snort. Oh yeah. More than anything else he'd said so far, that convinced her he really was a former pageant kid. In her experience, every single pageant mom trying to relive her own beauty queen glory days through her daughter said things exactly like that.

Mabel said, "Aww..." She stretched a hand out toward Goldie, couldn't reach him across Pacifica's enormous desk, and with a grunt heaved herself up to lay across the top—knocking over a couple of the cosmetic supplies Pacifica had set up in the process—so she could pat his shoulder. "There, there."

"Thanks."

She slid back into her seat. "Did you really do pageants? You didn't tell me that." A note of betrayal crept into her voice.

"I didn't tell her either—" he jabbed a thumb at Pacifica, "—but here we are!" (Pacifica shrugged unapologetically.) "I've got a lotta backstory you're still catching up on."

"Well, yeah, but—you said you just did..." She grasped for the right words, and settled on, "build-y stuff with pageants."

"I didn't say that," he said breezily. Mabel scowled at him; but shot a look at Pacifica, and just sat back without saying anything, arms crossed, her feet audibly kicking at the inside of the desk.

He didn't seem as stressed about his hair while he was talking, Pacifica noticed. (Maybe that was why hairdressers were so chatty? Or maybe just because it was kind of weird to stick your hands in someone's hair for an hour in total silence.) She asked, "Which pageant systems did you compete in?"

"None you'd have heard about," Goldie said. "They weren't on this continent and it was like a trillion years ago." Before Pacifica could pry about which continent, he added, "Hey, fun fact! Didja know that the first beauty contest in Oregon was established here in Gravity Falls?"

"Pff, duh, of course I know that," Pacifica said. "It was established by the town founder, my great-great grandpa."

"Close, but no," he said gleefully. "It was established by the real town founder."

Pacifica grimaced. "Him? The crazy undead guy without pants? Ugh, no wonder we're the only pageant with a mandatory bird calls category."

"The first three competitions were actually won by birds! They only added a fashion category to balance out the birds' unfair advantage at birdsong. Quentin resigned from the judges' panel in protest."

"He should've taken the dumb birdsong requirement with him," Pacifica muttered. "They make the kids pageant do it too. I had to get a private tutor to learn how to whistle."

"That sounds fun, though," Mabel said. "I can do bird song! Grunkle Ford taught me some. Listen to this!" She let out an admittedly impressive moo.

"Not a bad cowl call," Goldie said. "You woulda killed it at the accompanying bird costume requirement."

Mabel gasped. "I can make feather wings. Hey, do you think I could compete?"

"Not unless you move to Oregon."

"Aww."

"We can still make wings, though," Goldie said.

Pacifica had never had to deal with the dumb bird costume requirement, thank goodness. That only started in the teen brackets. Which made her wonder—"How old were you when you quit? Pretty young, right? Like, no offense, but if you need teenagers to do your makeup..." If Goldie was living as a guy now, it'd make sense if he didn't wear makeup day-to-day; but if he'd stuck with pageants past like age ten, he would have at least learned how to do his own makeup.

"Ha! You're right. I started when I was young enough that my mom could dust glitter on my butt without getting weird looks! I quit around... equivalent to third or fourth grade in the States? She wanted me to keep going—so I said, 'You want me to perform? Fine then—I'll put on the best performance you've ever seen.' And that's exactly what I did!" Thoughtfully, he added, "But for some reason I didn't win the talent portion. I guess the judges weren't impressed that I could play the piano and set it on fire at the same time."

Pacifica cracked up. "Okay wow—I retired during the talent portion too, but how you did it is way more exciting. The year I was aging out of the 9-11 bracket, I kinda had a meltdown on stage over losing to some girl with a hula hoop? Yeah, I did not win supreme that year."

"You shoulda won talent just for that scream! You hit some impressively high notes." At Pacifica's odd look, Goldie said, "Saw it online."

Figured. That was probably coming back to haunt her in ten years. "It's weird. There's like... two ways pageant girls go—er, girls or guys or... whatever."

"Whatever," Goldie agreed.

"Yeah. Either they make it part of their identity? And keep up the makeup and fashion and everything, sometimes stick with pageants as teens or start modeling professionally? Which is what I did. Or they totally burn out, don't want anythingto do with the beauty industry, and just, like, wear sweats forever."

With a faint air of wounded pride, Goldie said, "It's the bedsheet sarong, isn't it."

"No offense! I'm just saying."

"I'll have you know it's laundry day and Jesús stole my clean clothes instead of my dirty laundry." (Pacifica decided to forgive him for the weird fish smell.) "You're looking at me at a low point, kid. I was actually a pretty snappy dresser up until... lllast summer."

Hearing Goldie call her kid gave Pacifica a little jolt of surprise. For a moment, she'd forgotten she was talking to somebody with an age; she'd started to feel like she was being visited by the immortal Spirit of Washed-Up Former Pageant Children. As if he'd died and stopped aging the same time he retired. "What happened last summer?"

Goldie looked at Mabel. "Yeah, what did happen last summer?"

"Um." Mabel froze. "He... lost it all in a... um... overseas parrot circus venture! Yeah—all the trained parrots escaped before the opening night of the circus and he lost all his money."

Goldie let out a shrill cackle. "I like that, I'm keeping that."

Okay, got it, it wasn't any of Pacifica's business. "I think... this is the best I can do with your hair." She stepped back. "Unless you want to pick a style that doesn't suck."

He gave himself a cursory glance in the hand mirror, immediately lowered it, and said, "Sucky style's fine!"

"Don't say that, you look so beautiful," Mabel said. "You look like a babysitter!"

"Well, it doesn't get much better than that." He dropped the mirror on the desk. "What's next?"

####

Next—finally—was the part they'd actually come here for: the makeup.

"Okay, I tried to get around the eyepatch while I was doing your hair, but you've got to take it off for this part," Pacifica said.

He groaned, but muttered, "Fine, I've put up with this tyranny so far," removed it, and looked at her with his previously-covered eye squinted against the light—which was the point at which Pacifica realized that he had eyepatch tan lines... around his other eye. How???

There was no fixing that before tomorrow. She bit her lips, shut her eyes, pressed her hands together, and took in a deep breath. Okay. She could handle this.

"Why do you even wear this?" She tossed the eyepatch to Mabel—it was one of those cheap costume pirate-y looking patches. "Is this one of the Mystery Shack's gimmicky touristy things? Both your eyes work! And wearing an eyepatch when you obviously don't need it is just tacky."

"I've got a neurological condition! Seeing through two eyes messes up my depth perception," Goldie said. "I get migraines if I don't keep one covered! Which is admittedly the most fun thing you can do to your brain without involving narcotics, but it makes it hard to keep down lunch!"

"Oh," Pacifica mumbled. Maybe she should just get to work before she shoved her foot any deeper in her mouth.

She started by slapping aloe vera on as much sunburned skin as she could reach, handed over the jar with strict instructions to apply more in the morning, and gave him an emphatic lecture on sunburns and sunscreen and skin damage that petered out when he cheerfully started telling her about skin cancer statistics. She changed the topic when he started listing his favorite kinds of skin cancer.

She stripped off the nail polish that Goldie had apparently gotten during one of Mabel's sleepovers, and repainted it with, at Pacifica's insistence, something more "mature." (She vetoed Mabel's suggestion to paint little hearts. She vetoed Goldie's request for gold. She gave him the choice between white French tips, pale pink, or solid red. He chose red.)

She hadn't anticipated that her customer would be in such dire straits that she'd need to shave him, so she didn't have any supplies for that; but she also ordered him to get his legs as smooth as the surface of a balloon as soon as he got home—"And do you think there's any chance this guy you're after will see your pits?" "He already has!" "Hm. Okay. Yeah, uh, get those anyway."—and informed him that she would report him to the police for vandalism if he "shaved" using whatever depilatory cream he'd previously used on his hair.

As she finished plucking his brows, she said, "Okay, I think you're finally in decent enough condition for actual makeup." She stepped back, took in his face, and said, "Barely." She grimaced. "I wish I'd bought a concealer with better coverage. I didn't know the situation was so bad."

To his credit, Goldie had taken her criticism (and occasional looks of horror) like a champ. He simply drawled, amused, "The body rituals of the Nacirema are as elaborate as they are bizarre."

She picked up a couple of the foundations she'd bought and held them up next to the eye that had been protected by the eyepatch tan line, trying to determine which one was a closer match for whatever his skin tone was when he wasn't burned. "Who're the Nacirema? One of the tribes that used to live around here?"

"They're still in the area. Look 'em up."

Pacifica thought the darker foundation was closer; she tested it on his inner arm to be sure. "So, how much makeup do you already know how to apply? Any?"

"I can do mascara, eyeliner, and mascara."

"Riiight. Okay, both of you pay attention to what I'm doing." She evicted Mabel from her desk chair and dragged it around in front of Goldie's folding chair. "Because I will not be coming over to do this tomorrow, so the two of you will have to repeat this yourself. Here." She handed Goldie a mirror so he could watch her work.

Mabel hopped up to sit on the desk next to Goldie. "You have one hundred percent of my attention!" She immediately looked away from Pacifica at the makeup brushes laid out on the desk, picked up a fan brush curiously, and started dragging it up and down her arm. "Ooh. Tickly."

"Emphasize my eyes," Goldie said. "They're my best feature. You can forget about everything else, but my eyes have to look good."

Pacifica looked at his eyes. Pacifica really looked at his eyes.

There was something wrong with his eyes.

She decided to stop looking at his eyes. "Okaaay, great great great, you've got suuuper long lashes, that's fantastic. We can totally draw attention there. You don't even need fake lashes. And you've got nice big prominent eyes. Kinda bulgy, but that should be easy to hide with eyeshadow. I'm thinking maybe a smokey eye?"

"What about metallics? Like gold?" Goldie asked innocently. "Kind of a retro 'secret agent villainess' look, don't you think! It'd bring out the yellow in my eyes!"

Pacifica said, "You do not want to bring out your jaundice."

"Don't tell me what I want."

"No gold eyeshadow," Pacifica said. "Period. If you want to experiment with color, we can try a smoky eye in burgundy. Burgundy is hot this year."

Goldie muttered something about welcoming a bottle of burgundy right now, then said, "Fine! Burgundy."

(As Pacifica looked through her makeup palettes for the burgundy, Bill leaned over to Mabel and whispered, "Do we have any leftover gold eyeshadow?" Mabel nodded and winked. Bill winked back.)

"What about the rest of your face?"

"Skip it."

"I'm not letting you go bare-faced aside from your eyes," Pacifica said. "But we can do a natural makeup look."

"That's so boring," Mabel said. She was dragging the fan brush over her lips now. "If it looks natural why's he wearing any makeup at all?"

Goldie said, "Because humans are insane about the most uninteresting things."

As Pacifica worked her way through the foundation, concealer—she decided his sunburned skin had enough of a sun-kissed glow that she could skip bronzer—and contouring, she said, "You are... really good at holding still when you try." He'd gone completely still, like a statue. A statue that was making direct eye contact with her soul. She felt a bead of sweat slide down her neck. She wasn't sure he was breathing.

"He's super good," Mabel agreed. "It's kinda creepy."

"Thanks!" And just like that, he was smiling and alive again. "I do a lot of meditating! Gimme a focal point to watch and I can go like two billion years!"

"You didn't learn from...?"

"Pageants? Ha! No way, I was the wiggliest little demon you've ever seen. It drove my mom nuts when she was trying to do my lashes. She used to say 'If you love me, hold still' to keep me in place—but you know how contrary kids are when they're mad! Eventually I got fed up and said, 'Well then, maybe I don't love you!' And she didn't speak to me for three days." Goldie laughed. "Ahh, I had the most dramatic mom."

"Wow, my mom would kill me if I ever tried something like that—especially if it was in public where people could see us," Pacifica said. "She hired makeup artists so I'd struggle against them instead of her. Your mom did your makeup? Did she ever hire anyone?"

"Nooo way. We ran our operation on a razor-thin budget to maximize the profits from my winnings. The name of the game was efficiency!"

"My mom's sure wasn't," Pacifica said. "(Shut your right eye, I've got to get your eyeshadow.) We went through like, fifty makeup artists or something. Sometimes more than one while prepping for the same pageant." She lowered her voice a tad, "A couple times when the makeup artist was a creep, I messed up my own makeup just so Mom would fire them."

"Ha! Suckers. Yeah, that's probably how it woulda gone if my mom had handed me off to a makeup artist. I was not afraid to sic her on adults! We didn't have any hired help when I was that age, but the principal was terrified of her. And if another kid at a competition was getting on my nerves, I'd go crying to her that they pushed me and oh, man, she'd come down on their parents like the asteroid on Chicxulub."

"Me too! There was this girl in third grade who was so... I don't know, just—" she pulled a face, "eugh, you know? I complained to mom about her and got her family blacklisted by the whole town. They had to move out of the state just to get a job."

Goldie laughed loudly. "Now that is impressive!"

Pacifica's gut shifted uncomfortably. Was it? "Other eye now." She didn't speak for a moment as she tried to get both eyes matching. "Actually... it was... kinda scary?"

She'd asked her mom if she could puh-lease get this girl out of Pacifica's class. She'd just expected the girl to be switched to another teacher.

Instead, over the next few weeks, she heard about the girl's mother losing her job, then her father. Her older brother got kicked out of the local Future Lumberjacks of America chapter. One day the girl came to school in tears after being cut from the softball team. A couple months later, the girl's friends—the two that hadn't drifted away from her as her family became pariahs—threw her a tearful goodbye party during lunch with a mall-bought cookie cake; and the next day, she was gone forever.

After that first time Pacifica had complained about her classmate, her mom had never once mentioned the girl or her family. She never asked if Pacifica had any more trouble with her. Not even when they left town. It was as though, after her mom ground them under her heel, they were beneath her notice. Just four crushed ants.

But Goldie was staring at her, frowning in confusion, like she didn't make any sense. "What—scary for the other kid?" he asked. "Sure. It's supposed to be, isn't it?"

Pacifica didn't reply for a second. I'm afraid of how good she was at doing exactly what I asked her to do without realizing I was asking for it—that sounded stupid. Finally, she said, "Don't wrinkle your face like that, I haven't set your foundation yet. It'll make it cake up."

"Your moms sound insane," Mabel said. While they'd been swapping stories about their childhoods, she'd been staring at them, chin in one hand, chewing on the fan brush's bristles. "Were you guys tortured growing up?"

"Pfff, what? No, of course not!" Pacifica said. "My parents would never. You've only seen my mom's worst side, she's not really that bad. I mean—not to me. She's horrible to poor people, but that's different."

Goldie said, "Yeah, my mom was my biggest defender! If anyone tried to hold me back, she'd rip them a new one."

"But—forcing you to do pageants until you have a breakdown?" Mabel said, glancing between Goldie and Pacifica, mouth twisting up like the words tasted sour. "Guilting you into wearing makeup and attacking other parents and stuff? That's nuts."

"It's not like that," Pacifica said automatically, then tried to figure out what it was like.

"Now we're calling a kid's temper tantrum a breakdown? You've got a future career in propaganda, star girl," Goldie said wryly. "It's a mom's job to bring out a kid's potential, right? Sure, it drove me nuts at the time—but kids don't want their potential brought out, kids are lazy!" He shrugged, "Yeah, my parents weren't perfect—they didn't really 'get' me, they held me back from reaching my full potential because they couldn't see what it was—but I'd never have gotten on the road to unlocking my potential myself if they hadn't put me on the right path as a kid."

Pacifica nodded. "Totally! That's just normal mom stuff! My parents are exactly the same—they don't get my alpaca business at all—but there's no way I'd be running a business at thirteen if my mom hadn't pushed me to be the best I can be. Or supporting my alpacas through modeling if I hadn't learned how to present myself in the pageant system. Even mini-golf was just a hobby until my parents got me a coach and started taking me to competitions."

"And I wouldn't be the huge success I am today without those early lessons in public speaking!"

Mabel shot Goldie a meaningful look. He pointed at her. "Don't say a word. I've had a bad year, you can't judge me by that. Anyone could've lost their parrots in a freak accident."

"And some kids had it way worse," Pacifica said. "Some parents would hit their kids or scream at them for messing up their routines or getting distracted? Those girls never lasted long, you can tell if a contestant's just going through the motions because she's scared. I was never treated like that. My pageant coach taught my parents to use a 'warning bell,' when they rang it that was my warning to stop goofing off and focus on practicing or listen to them or whatever. They'd pay me in chocolate if I got back in line."

"Ha!" Goldie smacked the desk, "Oh wow, that's hilarious! Pageant coach Pavlov. My parents would have loved that when I was in the toddler competitions."

"Right?!" Pacifica laughed. "Now I'm like, wow, I used to be bribable with a piece of chocolate? Kids are sooo easy to manipulate."

"But hey, it's a good life lesson: the occasional reward and the fear of punishment is a lot more effective at keeping people in line than actual punishments."

Pacifica nodded thoughtfully. "Wow. That's so insightful."

"See?" Goldie beamed at Mabel. "Pageants teach kids all kinds of useful things! Ambition, poise, charisma, self-confidence, social skills..."

She grimaced. "Yeah, but... all the restrictions and pressure and trauma and stuff? That really sounds bad."

"I think you're just bitter that you can't enter the birdsong contest."

She kicked his arm. "I'm serious!"

He pushed back her shoe and waved her off dismissively. "It only sounds bad to you because you were never in the pageant world! It's got its own rituals and expectations, of course it looks weird to outsiders."

"And everyone judges pageants so much more harshly than other competitive sports—which is what pageants basically are," Pacifica said. "Like, pageants and competitive mini-golf took just as much practice, just as much coaching, just as much time and money—but in real life, knowing how to make myself look presentable and talk to adults has helped me way more often than knowing how to knock a ball into a hole. Mini-golf only saved my life once."

"Charisma will get you everywhere," Goldie agreed. "It's the most effective form of mind-control you can do without psychically rewiring someone's neurons."

"Basically! But getting a medal at the Sportlympics has everyone talk about how skilled and hard-working and dedicated you are, and getting a tiara in a national pageant gets people who have never even watched a pageant calling you a bimbo. Like, what?"

"Blatant double standards!" To Mabel, Goldie said, "Both your parents work in Silicon Valley. Their priority is intelligence and grades instead of looks and charisma, so that's why you and your brother get pushed in school—but it's all the same! Parents push their kids to be successful whatever way they know how."

Mabel stared into space. "Huh." She fell silent, gnawing on the fan brush's handle—pondering whether her parents worrying about her so-so grades was comparable to the pageant moms desperate for their daughters' straight hair to be straighter and curly hair to be curlier.

Smugly, Goldie went on, "If anything, the pageant circuit was more useful than school. I—"

"(Stop moving around, I've got to do your other eye.)"

Goldie obediently leaned forward and shut his other eye. "I went from pageants straight into public speaking. I had an entire career before I was out of school. Everyone loved me! I was a natural in the spotlight!"

"Really?" Pacifica said dubiously. She could buy that he might have been a competitor as a kid, but honestly, he seemed pretty creepy to her. Enough confidence could carry you pretty far, but...

He rolled his open eye. "Don't take that tone with me. It was before you were born! And like I said—I've lost my looks. I used to be..."

He trailed off, staring down at his nail polished hands like he didn't recognize them.

He muttered, "I used to be so much better than this."

Mabel reached out and rubbed his upper arm comfortingly.

Sometimes Pacifica caught her mom staring in a mirror, studying her face with an expression somewhere between nervous and depressed, gently touching her fingertips to the thin lines beginning to appear around her eyes and mouth as though she were examining gruesome wounds. Her mother had always said that looks are everything; and even though she didn't talk about her feelings directly, from the way she sometimes snapped at Pacifica to keep up her skincare—moisturizer, sunscreen, hydration, don't frown too hard—Pacifica thought maybe she wasn't worried about Pacifica's face so much as her own.

Goldie only had the faintest traces of the start of wrinkles, unnoticeable if Pacifica hadn't just spent the past few minutes plastering foundation on his face. She wondered how old he was. She wondered whether he had the same fear her mother did: that his body was letting him down, slowly dying all around him.

You don't go through the child pageant world without learning two things: everyone wants you to look and act older than you are; and the older you get, the less anyone wants you.

"I've got to do your lips," Pacifica said, picking out a couple of options: a red so bright it was nearly orange (totally in this year), a nice glossy nude that ought to be a close match to Goldie's natural lip color. "Did you want to stick with the natural look, or...?"

He glanced up from his hands at the offered lipsticks. "What the heck," he sighed. "Let's make it red."

Pacifica nodded. "Pooch your lips out for me, like this." And that was the last they spoke for a while.

####

(Here's your regular TBOB report: no actual plot was changed due to TBOB. I added in a few lines referencing it: the imagery of Priscilla grinding normal people beneath her heel is meant to be reminiscent of Pacifica's giant nightmare on TINAWDC; the "meditating" for specifically two billion years is a direct reference to the barber pole, although I'd already headcanoned that Bill can meditate/dissociate for absolutely vast quantities of time; I already had dialogue where he goes on the importance of charisma and how much everyone adored him as a kid, but I tossed in another sentence or two about charisma just because of how strongly he emphasizes it in TBOB; and originally I had dialogue where Bill went on about what big supporters his parents were, even though he privately feels like they didn't get him—all I changed was deciding to make him admit to some of those feelings out loud, since it's something he says outright in TBOB. I've imagined that he tends to swing between "they were the best/they were the worst" based on how he's feeling at the time with no neutral ground in between—whiiich lines up pretty well with what TBOB gave us.

And unrelated but I spent way too long researching makeup & hair trends in the 70s and in 2013. I had no idea orange lipstick was hot for a while. My idea of doing makeup is painting my nails once every six years.

Hope y'all enjoyed, and I'm looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts! I've been eager to dive into this aspect of Bill's backstory and Pacifica's POV for a while.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #pacifica northwest #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher #(god i hate the chapters from the POV of characters who don't know they're interacting with Bill)#(calling him the wrong name the whole chapter is torture. I kept having to correct his name. ... un-correct his name?)

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sinstear · 2 days ago

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‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎SECRETS WILL KILL YOU, KEEP IT HUSH.

synopsis: what was once the best times of your lives, what happens when the one you loved more than live itself, your best friend; vanishes without a trace and it’s up to you and your friends to figure out what happened? can you save her in time? tags: major angst, talks of character death, reader being oblivious, cursing, nervous and depressed reader, talks of guns, an appearance from said gun near the end, sprinkles of fluff. happy ending, somewhat. there’s probably a bunch of other stuff i’m missing, but i need this out my face already. wc: 22k .... uhm, look away. an: i’m not sure how i feel about this, but i’ve been reading too many psychological books over this past month; send help asap, and had the idea to write a little something of my own, i say little like this isn’t sitting at a fat 20k+ words .. don’t judge me please or i’ll cry. i cried too much writing this because i hated it for so long LMAO. thank you @vifilms for proofreading and supporting this crazy idea, and helping me through it. i love you. anyway, enjoy <3

Thursday, 28th April 2015.

“you know you could just tell your date you came down with a cold, s’not like she would notice, girls too obsessed with herself notice anything,” Abby suggested, her round dark green glasses resting on the bridge of her nose.

“I can’t just lie,” You scoffed, looking up from your phone, and noticing Abby was clad in one of your sweaters, cross-legged and reading yet another recommended book. “Besides, you know me and dates never last, remember the last one? 20 minutes into getting to know her,”

“She accidentally mentioned her girlfriend, yes, I will never let you live it down.” Abby giggled from beside you and shrugged. “What’s the worst that could happen this time? She tells you about the 4 wives she has at home?”

“Funny,” You grumbled and slapped her shoulder playfully. Abby laughed and you felt your heart flutter. You liked it when she laughed, it felt refreshing and beautiful. “If that happens, I hope you’ll be there to rescue me when I call you stressed out.”

Holding her hand over her heart, the blonde nodded with a subtle smirk on her lips. “I solemnly swear I will always rescue you from your failed dates.”

“Hey, Honey.”

Jerry. Sweet and kind Jerry Anderson; He still looks young, even though the stubble on his face is more grey than before, the dark bags under his eyes darker, but you can tell the glint is slowly burning out in his eyes. He used to have a spark to him, but now it’s dim, almost vanishing right before you. “Hey, Mr Anderson.” You coughed on smoke and cleared your throat.

“C’mon kid, I’ve known you since you were in diapers, and throwing eggs at the neighbor’s house, you can call me Jerry.” He laughed, but the smile on his lips didn’t reach his eyes. Not like it used to be.

Stubbing out your cigarette on the sidewalk, you chuckled nervously and wiped your hands nervously on your jeans. “Yeah, no right, sorry, Jerry, habit, you know” you trailed off, looking at him silently, trying to work him out. “Any news?”

“No, don’t think there will be any for a while.”

Abby, your best friend, had made a joke once in her backyard that if you weren’t both in a serious relationship before you turned 18, you would both date, settle down, and get married. It was a promise you promised to keep, if anything, you would be right outside her door, asking her to be your girlfriend the second you turned 18.

Her 26th birthday is next week.

Abby disappeared just weeks before her 18th, she left your house happy and smiley, secretly hoping you would still be single in the next two weeks. She loved you. Jerry knew how much she adored and loved you. Hearing about the dates you would set yourself up on, broke her heart but you were her best friend, so she should be happy for you right? Never ruin a best friend’s dream and wish, she told herself each time she left you and went home to cry into her pillow while her dad, god bless his soul, sat on the end of her bed, comforted her, and stood by her.

“I miss her you know?” You finally mumbled out, looking away from him. “More than I did yesterday, and I’ll miss her more tomorrow than I did today.” The crack in your voice was evident, and it broke Jerry’s heart to see and hear you so distraught. His was hurting too, for so many reasons, but the main one was he didn’t know where his daughter was and it was slowly killing him.

“I know you do, kid,” His smile was faint, his hand trembling as he took a seat beside you on the sidewalk. “My girl loved you with all her heart,” His voice wavered and you couldn’t even smile at him, you couldn’t even promise him anything because how can you? “I know in my heart she’s still out there, somewhere, I’ve heard the talk, the gossip people are saying, saying that she’s dead, some days I believe it, some days I don’t, but I do know one thing, she’ll come back, to us, to you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she’s an Anderson, we don’t give up,” Jerry laughed and for a second it felt like Abby was still with you, laughing and joking like nothing else in the world mattered. “And she’s your best friend, my girl wouldn’t leave you behind. She’ll come back, and that promise you made each other? When you were younger, stealing my beers and trying to smoke a joint?” He laughed again when your eyes widened and he patted your back lightly. “No judgment here, Abby is always safe with you, but you both made a promise, and she will always keep a promise.”

“I’ll find her, Jerry, I promise.”

“You’re slouching like a dog and m’pretty sure you’re drooling”

Peeling your eyes open slowly, you scowled at the sight of a smirking Ellie looking down at you amused. “Fuck off, what do you want?” You huffed, folding your arms over your chest and closing your eyes again.

“Saw Jerry,” Her voice was suddenly softer, and you could just picture the way she was playing with her fingers, not knowing what else to say. “He looked—”

“Worse for wear?”

“Something like that,” Ellie smiled and sat in the empty chair beside you. “I know this is a dumb question, but have you heard or seen anything?”

“You mean have I seen the girl I’m in love with walking around? The same girl who suddenly vanished into thin air?”

“Don’t be a dick, m’serious.”

“Then no, I haven’t seen Abby walking around. Do you think I would be sitting here, drinking a beer at 1pm if Abby was here?”

Ellie, even though she pisses you off and gets under your skin, was helpful with everything. She was always there if you needed someone to talk to, always about if you needed just a little help trying to figure out when and where Abby disappeared too. After the breakup with Dina, Ellie felt herself stuck in a hole, unable to feel that push to get out and get help. You were there for each other, even if Dina did give you a subtle glare or side eye when she saw you together. You and Ellie was a line neither of you would cross. That’s always been how it is.

“Hey guys!”

“Oh here we go,” Ellie shrank back in her chair and held back a groan. “Doesn’t this girl have other friends? I wouldn’t even say we are friends”

“Who is— Oh fuck sake.”

“How are we doing?!” Mandy, someone that Dina had brought into the friend group when Ellie and she were still together, skipped over and smiled at you both. “Ellie.”

“Anyway, as I was saying,” She completely blanked her, turned back to you, and smirked. “I think that we, me and you if you get my drift, should go and look for her.”

“Say fuckin’ what now?” You blinked.

“Find whom?”

“Abby, who else do you think?” Your friend snapped.

“Oh, the girl who wanted you to abandon our date that one time?”

You can see her lips moving, but you don’t know what she or even Ellie are saying; your eyes are locked in on the charm around her bracelet. It wasn’t there a few weeks ago, you’d know, she’s always happy and cheery, flinging her arms about like she’s just snorted the lemonade instead of drinking it. It looked oddly familiar, but at the same time, you couldn’t put your finger on it. “So what do you think?” Ellie’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, and she looked at you with that infuriating grin.

“About?”

“Finding Abby”

Ellie can’t tell if you want to throttle her or throw something at her with the way you’re staring at her. It used to freak her out when you would go silent and just stare like you suddenly forgot how to function, but lately, she’s gotten used to it, this is your way of processing something. “Ellie, you can’t be serious right? We don’t even know where she went before— before she just disappeared. How are we going to find her? With what money? Where do we even start? This isn’t some crime show we watch on the TV, Ellie, this is real, this is her life—”

Her hands came up, grabbed your shoulders, and squeezed tightly with a soft chuckle. “Breath, Nancy Drew, you’re going to give yourself a panic attack. We don’t have to suddenly rush off, and get ourselves into trouble, we just have to retrace steps. Abby’s steps.”

“It’s been years, El.”

“I know, but we’ll find her, okay? She wouldn’t just leave, and she wouldn’t leave you. We all know this, you know this.” Her smile reassured you somewhat, but you still had that nerve eating away at you. What if she really was gone?

The charm was still gnawing at you. Where could you have pictured it before? You weren’t 100% sure you were seeing things right, maybe it was one that you had thought you had seen before but it was your mind playing tricks on you. Maybe it was because you had a hole in your heart, and you were trying to put something there to ease it a little. To make it whole again.

So why couldn’t you let it go? Why did you have to keep pushing yourself into something that wasn’t there? Was it because you needed Abby, and you needed to find her? To restore your thoughts? Or was it because some part of you knew the outcome of what’s happened, and you were too afraid to say it out loud?

“Been a couple of years since you came in here,” Jerry’s voice rang out from behind you. He sounded tired. He probably hasn’t slept properly in years, just like you. So you knew how he was feeling. “You and Abby would try stealing the candy, but I always knew it was you two. Always sneaking around and causing trouble between yourselves.”

You looked at him over your shoulder, fingers grasping at the picture he hand hung up on the wall of Abby, tightly and smiled painfully. “Did Abby take anything? When you—”

“I would have told you, you know that.” Jerry cut you off, dropping the box in his hands onto the floor, and sighed softly. “I’ve been in her room hundreds of times since she, well, since she disappeared and I haven’t noticed anything different. I haven’t even changed the wallpaper, s’too hard to handle.”

“She wouldn’t have left without a reason, Jerry. Abby doesn’t just go missing. If she was in trouble, she would have come to me, if anything was wrong, she would have called me, she would have asked for my help.”

“This is hard for me to talk about.”

“And you think It’s not hard for me?” You scoffed, gripping the picture tighter. “My best friend goes missing and there’s not a goddamn thing I can do. There’s nothing I can do. It fucking kills me to know that she’s probably out there, scared and alone, and I’m here feeling sorry for myself? You know how fucking shitty that makes me feel that I couldn’t keep her safe? She’s not fucking here and It’s my fault because I didn’t protect her hard enough. I should have walked her home that night, I should have done more.”

For the first time in years, Jerry can see how terrified you are. For a while, you’ve been able to keep your emotions and feelings at bay, keep them under control, but as you stand there, looking at him, he can see a younger you. A scared little you. You look small, broken, and terrified as you stand before him. “This isn’t your fault,” He shakes his head and clenches his fist. “This has never been your fault.”

“When I look at you, I wait for you to shout and yell at me. Blame me for her going missing, I wait every single time, and it never comes. That’s pathetic, right? That I wait for you to blame me for the reason your daughter is missing.”

His sudden sob catches your attention, and you feel like shit. You’ve never meant to make him upset, you’ve always been the one to make people laugh, to make their stomachs hurt over a silly joke you made, but always has everyone laughing and smiling. But you’ve made him cry, and you suddenly feel lost again. “M’sorry—”

“I’ve never blamed you for this, and I won’t start today”

You find Ellie on her porch step that same afternoon after your conversation with Jerry, nursing a glass of water in her hand and her eyebrow raises just slightly when you storm over and stand right in front of her with your arms folded over your chest. “Alright? You look like you’re on the verge of a mental breakdown or murder.” She joked, and your lips quirked up just slightly. “What’s up?”

“I want to find Abby.”

Just like that, Ellie placed her glass beside her, almost knocking it over when she leaned back and grinned at you. “Nancy Drew, this is going to be something,” She lazily smiled and stood up quickly. “Just don’t go telling Joel, he worries enough about me and whatnot,”

“Tell him that we’re just going camping, just until we get somewhere with whatever steps we have to retrace around here.”

“Camping?” She scoffed and glared at you.

“Ellie, you dress like you live in the fuckin’ woods, he’ll believe you.” You rolled your eyes, brushed past her, up the stairs, and into her house. “C’mon idiot!”

“God, yes Mother!”

When you were younger, you and Abby spent a lot of time at Ellie’s house. Joel always had to refill glasses with lemonade to put more sandwiches on empty plates, and you were always thankful for him, Ellie, and Abby. Always for Abby. The memories of your childhood, your growing up, lingered in certain parts of the house. For a split second, you felt like you were back there as you walked into the living room; you remember how Abby almost cried when she lost a game of Uno, and Ellie teased her nonstop for it. You remember how the blonde would cuddle into your side during random movie nights, especially the horror movies Dina decided to watch, even though she would turn them off most of the time because it got too scary.

The picture of the 4 of you still sits on the fireplace and a smile curves on your lips. You still remember the day it was taken, and how cold it was to take such a picture in the snow. If you squint hard enough, you can see the redness forming on Abby’s nose, and if pictures had audio then you would be able to faintly hear the chattering sound of Ellie’s teeth at how cold it was that night. You weren’t sure if Ellie would have gotten rid of all the memories, but you were thankful she didn’t. You lost Abby, Jerry lost Abby, but in the end, you all lost her. You all lost a part of yourselves that morning he couldn’t find her. A little bit of each of you died when the posters were put up all around Jackson not even a week later. The missing poster still haunts you. No matter what.

“Even in pictures, Abby always wanted to be close to you.”

Joel. Placing the picture back down, you turn around and find him holding logs of wood. His hair was slightly shorter; Ellie probably had enough and took the scissors to it. His eyes still had a small glimmer of hope, but he still looked exhausted. “Yeah,” You nodded and fumbled with your hoodie sleeve. “Haven’t taken a photo since, feels too weird without her in them. It would also feel like cheating, can’t take a picture that she’s not in, you know?” A faint smile tugged at your lips.

“You’ll all take one together when she’s back, no doubt about it. Hell, Ellie will probably fill her wall with new pictures of you guys,” Like Jerry, Joel’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes and you hold back either a sigh or a cry. “El misses her too, you know?” He added quietly, like he was scared she would hear you both. “She might not talk about it, like you, but I’ve heard her crying at night, sometimes it takes me hours to get her to calm down. Poor girl almost sent herself into a panic attack last night because she was crying so much. I wish I knew how to help her, all I ever want is to help her and keep her safe and I don’t know how. I feel lost because I can’t help her when she needs it.”

“You’re doing the best you can, Joel.” You wanted to help her too, you wanted to ease and help everyone but even you were lost and confused. “She knows you’re here, and she’ll come to you when she’s ready to talk about it. I promise.”

“Yeah I know—”

“Joel? I thought you were out with Tommy?” Ellie appeared finally and looked between you both. “You guys alright?” She laughed nervously and dropped her jacket on the back of the chair with a shiver. It was slowly getting colder, so more blankets and fires were needed.

“Yeah, yeah, was just catching up and stuff, haven’t seen Joel or Tommy for a while.”

“If you didn’t cancel on the dinner last week, you would have seen them,” She teased, kissing Joel’s cheek and taking the wood from his hands before walking over to the almost gone-out fire. “Old man misses you, he misses all of you.”

Even Abby, she thinks.

“Right, you guys staying for dinner or?” Joel laughed.

“Yes, we’re staying,” Ellie looked at you, folding her arms over her chest. “Aren’t we?”

“Yeah, missed your cooking.” You grinned playfully at him.

“We’ll be in my room!”

“I know El, It’s the only place you socialize.”

Pushing open her door, Ellie slumps herself in her desk chair, sighs, and then looks over at you as you slump face-first onto her bed. “Right, operation find Abby, what’s first?”

“Well, we all saw her that night, surely someone knows something that we don’t,” you mumbled before lifting your head slowly with a grumble. “Abby doesn’t just go missing within 24 hours, El. Not without someone seeing something. Have you seen how many people lurk outside the bar? Lurk around the shops? Someone has to have seen her, or something.”

“So, we start there. We ask everyone.”

“C’mon dude, surely you remember seeing her at least once that night?!” Ellie scowled, holding up a photograph of Abby in his face, almost shoving it under his nose with how angry she was getting. Sighing under your breath, you reached your hand up and pulled her arm away.

“El, he doesn't remember, let’s ask someone else. Preferably someone who isn’t drunk right now.”

“We’ve been asking people for hours—”

“It’s not going to happen overnight El, and as much as I want it to, It’s impossible.” You rubbed at your face and sighed loud enough for her scowl to drop and a frown to appear. “I just want her to be okay, and I know that she’s scared somewhere, whenever she is, but I need to find her.”

“We’ll find her, we’ll look around all day and night if we have to.”

The metal door clangs loudly against the brick wall, sending a slight vibration through the floor, and the feeling of terror sinks in all over again. The room is dark, and cold, not even a blanket could keep you warm if you tried hard enough. The days have been lost, not even sure what year it is anymore, and not even having enough energy to count specks of dirt on the walls have been long forgotten. The energy to keep going was slowly getting lower and lower.

The painful squeak of the door opening would cause anyone to lose sleep. “Eat your food, don’t make me waste more money on this shit if you don’t want to eat it. Stop being ungrateful and do what I tell you.” The small plate of food hits the floor, almost going everywhere, and just like that the door slams shut again without another word.

How much longer?

“Yeah, I saw her.”

Both yours and Ellie’s eyebrows shoot up at his words, and you look at her with a glimmer of hope. “You did? You saw her?” You asked.

“Course I did,” He nodded, taking a hit from his cigarette and coughing abruptly. “Was getting something from the bakery store, bread or something? She wasn’t there for long, but I saw her.”

“Was she with anyone?”

“Nah, was by herself, she didn’t seem to be in a rush or anything. I was cleaning up the tables outside, and that’s when I saw her. Then when it came about that she had gone missing the next week, I didn’t know what to think. I don’t think she went missing, but I suppose I should let the professionals deal with it.”

“Professionals,” Ellie clicked her tongue on the side of her mouth and laughed. “Yeah because they’re much help.”

“Thank you,” You smiled apologetically. “Let us know if you can remember anything else.”

“Will do. Hope you find her.”

Just as you and Ellie turned around to leave, to ask someone else, that high-pitched voice rang out again. Stopping you both in your tracks. “Hi!” Mandy smiled sweetly, looking between you both as she got closer.

“Gonna take this pencil and shove it right in my fuckin’ eye,” Ellie grumbled under her breath.

“Hi, Mandy.” You murmured.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Looking for Abby, didn’t we mention this to you yesterday?”

Jabbing Ellie in the rib, you shook your head when she glared at you and slapped on a fake smile. “Did you see Abby at all?” You asked, looking at her closely.

Mandy looked between you both again, eyes just widening slightly before she laughed and shrugged. “No? We weren’t close.”

“Don’t have to be close to someone to know if you saw them or not.” Ellie pointed out.

“I was with my parents, and even if I did see her, I was drinking too much that night to know,” She shrugged again, looking at you with a happy smile. One that for some reason, made you uncomfortable. “Speaking of which, I have some books I have to give back to my parents.”

“You remember being drunk that many years ago?”

There it was again, the wave of her hand brushing her hair away from her face when you noticed that same bracelet charm. It was making you irritated because you still can’t picture where it’s from, or who made it. But you know that you’ve seen it before, that you do know and are aware of. “—If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know, okay?” Mandy offered, giving you one final smile before she walked away.

“She pisses me off more and more every day I swear. Remind me why you went on a date with her?” Ellie slipped the pen into her pocket and rubbed her nose harshly. Was she coming down with yet another cold? You thought to yourself.

“M’not sure, she always cornered me when I was alone and kept asking until I said yes, that’s it.” You shrugged as you both walked. “She always shows up when we’re talking about Abby, no?”

“I don’t think she’s the kidnapping or killing type, to be honest. Too bubbly and cheerful.”

“She’s not dead, Ellie.”

Halting in her steps, Ellie turns around and acknowledges her words quickly. “Shit, no I know, I didn’t mean it like that. This is just stressing me out, we’re still getting nowhere.”

You both take a seat on the chairs outside the bakery, tired and feeling sorry for yourself as you both silently look through the list of names of people you still need to talk to. Wanted to know if anyone had seen her, just something. “There’s still the lady who owns the wine shop, that creepy guy who owns the other bar,” Ellie mumbled.

Brushing your fingers over the paper, you shrink back in the chair with a sigh, one that already explains how tired you are, and close your eyes.

Saturday, 1st May 2015.

“Yeah, m’here,” you mumbled, holding your phone to your ear, feet kicking at the rocks. “Make sure you rescue me.”

“I have a good feeling about this date,” Abby admitted softly, unbeknownst to you, holding back her sobs, and smiled even though you couldn’t see her. “I think It’s going to be amazing.”

“Yeah? How do you know?”

“Because I know you, and you deserve this.”

Her words buried deep in your chest, and you felt your eyes slowly well up with tears, but you couldn’t cry, not today, not when you were about to have a fucking date. “Abby?”

You weren’t sure if you heard the hitch in her breath, and if you did, you ignored it. “Yeah?” She asked, fumbling with the sleeve of the hoodie she stole from you.

“Thank you.”

Blinking away the tears in her eyes, Abby smiles sadly to herself. “Of course. I love you.”

“I love you—”

“Y/N? Hi!”

“Abby I gotta go, I’ll come over after, yeah?”

“Good luck.”

Slipping your phone into your back pocket once you hung up, you smiled tightly. “Mandy, right?”

“The one and only! Seems unsettling it took you until the first date to know my name, but whatever, we’re here now.” She didn’t seem to notice your tight-lipped smile and urge to roll your eyes. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way.”

The small restaurant was slightly dimmed, smelling of cigarettes and strong beer. Mandy didn’t seem to mind, in fact, she was happily walking around; looking for a table to sit at and a small shriek of happiness flooded from her once she found a table that fitted her. “Let’s sit, come come.” The redhead hurried, throwing her bag and jacket onto the table beside her.

“Oh, uh, sure,” You took her things, smiling apologetically at the old couple who looked at her shocked, and seated yourself in the chair opposite her. “M’not sure what to eat here, never been before.” You admitted sheepishly.

Mandy, who had yet to even speak, looked at you with a smile. “Everything here is good except for the lemon tart and the white wine.”

“What’s wrong with the wine?”

“Tastes like shit, typical for them, and whatnot.” She shrugged again, and It caught you off guard with how fast she covered up her distaste for things with a wide smile. One that’s almost sinister-looking. She was a good person though, Dina mentioned she was. You couldn’t judge her based on a smile. “Now, how did you meet Dina and Ellie?”

“I met Abby first, actually—”

“Abby? Why doesn’t that name ring a bell?”

“Oh, uh, Jerry Anderson’s daughter? They own the candy store?”

“Ah,” Mandy flashed yet another smile, sitting back in her chair and nodding along. “Don’t know them personally, I wouldn’t have a reason to.”

“Right,” Clearing your throat, you hummed and gave her your best grin. Did you look stupid? Maybe, but did she care? Apparently not. “How did you meet Dina?”

The sharp pinch on your skin had your eyes snapping open, your body almost falling out of the chair when you spotted Ellie looking at you, grinning from ear to ear. “Dude, fuck you.”

“You’re wasting time, If m’not allowed to nap, then you aren’t allowed either.” She scoffed, slipped the sheet of paper into her pocket, and stood up. “We aren’t getting anywhere, let’s go back to mine and we can go from there.”

“What if there’s nothing?”

“There’s always something.”

You started to lose count of the days. First they started as days, and then they suddenly started blending into weeks. You and Ellie were still none the wiser. Still lost on every account of what happened when Abby had left your house the night she vanished. You had barely left your bed; only to shower, brush your teeth and eat, but besides that, it felt like you were falling into another deep hole you weren’t sure you could dig yourself out of.

Today was the first day you gathered enough energy to pull yourself out of the hole that was your unmade bed, and clothe yourself in something that had way too many holes, and probably is over 5 years old, but it was a start. “Most books that come back are usually missing a couple of pages, s’not unusual,” Brenda, the owner, explained with a tired smile. “Doesn’t make it less annoying though.”

“Yeah, can’t read a book with a fuckin’ page missin,” You grumbled, feeling the same emotions as her. You could get lost in your books, and to know the one you wanted to read was missing about 5 pages pissed you off. “S’fine, I’ll just take the other books.”

“Are you sure, Honey?”

“Yeah, m’sure—”

From the corner of your eye, there was a sudden flash, a sliver of blonde hair caught your attention and your body did a full 180, dropping the books on the floor, causing Brenda to let out a scowl and drop to her knees quickly just to pick them up. They were collector books, how dare you just drop them?” Shit, fuck, sorry, Brenda, I have to go—”

You were already running away before you finished your sentence. Pushing people out of your way, tugging them and almost pushing them over as you scrambled to get past the large crowds. “Abby!?” You shouted, sadly tripping someone over in the process, but a part of you didn’t care. “Move out the fuckin’ way,” Your hands pressed onto a back, shoving them a little too hard for anyone’s liking, sending them tumbling over one of the stools. “Abby!”

Before you could comprehend anything else, let alone think about the blonde hair, your body barreled into another harshly, sending you both to the floor, your back hits the dirty floor with a loud thud and winds you in the process. “Fuck!” You hissed, coughing painfully.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N.”

Jesse. Turning on your side, your eyes flutter open, the pain in your back trailing all over your body as you find him already pushing himself off the floor, crouching beside you, and holding a hand out for you. “Sorry, I just thought I saw someone.” You explained, taking his hand and letting him pull you up.

“Abby?”

“What?”

“You were shouting her name,” He laughed, shrugging his shoulders and dusting off yours. “Dina told me you and Ellie were looking for her, or something like that,” Jesse murmured, holding his hand up to block the sun from his eyes. “Had any luck?”

“I wouldn’t be shouting her name like a fuckin’ maniac and pushing people over if I had luck finding her,” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. His smile fell at your aggression, but quickly recovered and patted your shoulder with another smile. “Sorry, I’ve just— I don’t know what to do, It feels like she’s still here, somewhere, and I just want her to come back.”

“I know, and she will. You’re both like, stuck to each other, If anyone can find her, It’s you,”

“Y/N! Y/N!”

Turning your head, you find Ellie frantically running towards you and Jesse. She barely acknowledges him though and instead, shoves a piece of paper into your hands before hunching over, resting her hands on her thighs and panting heavily. “What’s this?” You question with a raised eyebrow.

“Abby was arguing with someone,” She spoke between pants and cleared her throat. “That creepy old man we saw last week? Freaked me the fuck out, to be honest, but when I saw him again this morning, he kind of cornered me and started telling me that she was arguing with someone near the barn, it got heated, but that’s all he remembers.” Ellie finally got out.

“Arguing? With who?”

“Fuck if I know, but he said it sounded bad. So whoever she was arguing with, knows where she went, or was the one to see her last, right?” She blinked, copying Jesse and blocking the sun from her face with her hand.

“I thought I saw her,”

“Saw who? Abby? When?”

“Was talking to Brenda about books, and then It just felt like I saw her—”

“Almost took me out in the process.” Jesse chimed in.

Rolling your eyes, you looked down at the sheet of paper; the same sheet that listed the names of everyone who lived here. “So she was arguing with someone? That could have been anyone.”

“Half of them are old, one argument would send them into their coffin—”

“Ellie!”

“What?! M’just saying! It’s true.”

“Jesse, do you remember Abby wearing jewelry?” You asked after a few seconds of silence.

His eyebrow rose this time, only to furrow. “Uh, maybe, I’m not sure, why?”

“Abby never wore jewelry unless it was from you or Jerry.” Ellie gave you the same confused look. “Why? What is that big head of yours thinking?”

“Nah, s’nothing, was just wondering,” You shook them off and scrambled the paper between your hands. “Something just feels off and I can’t explain it no matter how much I think.”

“Jerry still has all those pictures we took, maybe we can start there this time, see if anything jumps out at you?” Jesse suggested this time.

“Wha— You?” Ellie scoffed.

“Abby is my friend too, Ellie.”

“And yet you’ve never taken the time to visit us or Jerry since she went missing, shocker, Jesse.”

“Guys, enough,” You pinched the bridge of your nose harshly and sighed deeply. “Let’s just go see Jerry for the pictures.”

Jerry wasn’t lying when he said he hadn’t changed anything in Abby’s bedroom. The wallpaper was still the yellow and sunflower she picked when she turned 16. The bed sheets were the same light blue with clouds that scattered around the fabric. Her mirror still had every Polaroid hung up from the multiple drunk nights you all had. “There’s still another box in the attic, I’ll get it for you.” Her Dad appeared in the doorway, looking at you all with a gentle smile. “Weird seeing all of you in her room after so long,” He chuckled and placed the box on her bed. “Can I get any of you something to eat or drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“M’alright, but thank you, Jerry.”

“Can I have a glass of water?”

“Really, Jesse?” Ellie glared.

“What?! I’m thirsty.” Jesse glared back.

“I’ll get your drink and then grab the last box.” Jerry laughed at their bickering and left the room.

“Right,” Ellie clasped her hands together and took refuge at Abby’s untouched desk. You could tell Jerry hadn’t touched anything there because the old music festival poster was still lying there on the oak. “Something that could help us.” She muttered to herself while you and Jesse were already opening the box.

“I didn’t realize how many pictures we took when we were all together,” Jesse smiled fondly at the thought of seeing so many old memories between you all and instantly shoved his hand into the filled box and grabbed a handful of pictures.

“How many are there?” Ellie laughed from the other side of the room.

“More than Joel has of those vinyls, that’s for sure.” You chuckled.

“Old man is gonna be so jealous we have more pictures together than he has of his beloved music.”

“Or you could find another that he doesn’t have yet, you know, being a good daughter to the old man seeing as he feeds you 4 times a day and takes care of you,” You suggested with a subtle smirk. “Just a little idea of what to get him for his birthday.”

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna get him then?”

“Another jumper, what else?”

“You’ve given him over 10 since you met him!”

“Didn’t you steal 3 of my jumpers?” You quipped back, eyebrow rose and lips quirked up.

“You just— Your jumpers are comfy, okay!?”

“Oh I was just asking, you’re the one getting all defensive,” You teased before taking your handful of pictures. You don’t remember each time you took them, there were so many that it could go back years before you were even friends with Ellie or Jesse. There were more than enough to write an entire book; it seemed as you scanned over a couple.

As you went to grab another set, seeing as the ones you picked didn’t really give you much, you had knocked over the pile that Jesse had already looked through, and sent them tumbling to the floor. Cursing under your breath, you rolled your eyes at yourself and sighed. “Shit,” You grumbled, placing the pile of photos on the bed before kneeling on the floor to grab the few that you knocked over. “Ellie, did you find anything?”

“Nah, still nothing.” The Brunette sighed from the desk.

Picking up the abandoned photos, you quickly catch onto a slight glint and sparkle from the corner of your eye; furrowing your eyebrows, you push the pictures onto the bed with the others, and lean your head down more, looking under her bed. “What the—” Reaching towards whatever it was you thought you saw, you grabbed it, and your lips parted with a soft exhale.

A bracelet.

Holding it up, you inspected it closely. “What’s that?” Jesse spoke up as you noticed there were quite a few charms already missing. Did Abby hide them? Why was there only a few left, and the others were gone? “Is that Abby’s?”

Ellie had quickly snatched it from your hands, which caused you to almost stumble onto the floor at her abrupt movement, held the bracelet up and looked at it. “I’ve only seen this once,”

“So It’s hers?”

“I assume so, I saw her with it on her 16th birthday,” Ellie nodded and took a seat in the middle of Abby’s bed with her legs crossed. “I’ve only seen her with it on once, and I mean, you guys should know that too seeing as you got her the fuckin’ thing, Y/N”

Did you? Then why couldn’t you remember?

“How don’t you remember?” Jesse laughed and slapped the back of your head gently. “Can we just talk about the fact she wore all of your clothes? She wouldn’t go out unless you were going, nor would she go to any of the parties here unless you were with her? You were both obsessed with each other. You bought it for her, or made it for her, should I say.”

“Made it?” You choked out, looking over at the bracelet that was still in Ellie’s hands. “I don’t—”

“It’s been hard for all of us, but more so for you,” Ellie admitted quietly and smiled sadly. “Abs was closer to you than the rest of us. We can all understand that this is something you don’t remember because you’re too busy blaming yourself.”

“That’s not—”

“Y/N, you’ve been blaming yourself the second the missing posters went up,” Jesse spoke, sitting beside Ellie on the bed. “Every day since then you’ve blamed yourself,and you’re still blaming yourself, right now, I just know your head is going through the cycle It’s been going through for the past god knows how many years.”

“But why don’t I remember making her that? Why?”

“Because you’re blocking it out,” Jerry spoke up. “You’re blocking out all the memories because you’re scared.”

“M’not scared—”

Planting the final box on the floor, Jerry crouches beside you and places his hand comfortingly on your shoulder. “You’re blocking them out because you’re scared. You’ve been blocking them out because you’re blaming yourself, and maybe if you block them out, it won’t hurt you as much—”

“Hurt me,” You scoffed and shrugged his hand off your shoulder as you stumbled to your feet. “Won’t hurt me as much. M’not ready to let her go, is that better for you? Maybe if I keep my memories locked away, I’ll have more time to make new ones when she comes home. I know this is fucking hard for all of us, for you, but it is killing me—” You paused to take a deep breath, ignoring the worried looks on all of them. “It’s fucking killing me going through fucking photos, asking people around the fucking village, trying to figure out what happened when she’s fucking alone, all alone and I don’t know where she is. This is pointless, all of this is pointless because Abby means more to me than some pictures! I’m here looking at fucking pictures while the girl I love is somewhere out there, fucking scared and there’s nothing I can do. I can’t promise you anything, I can’t promise no one anything”

“Y/N—” Jerry frowned as he rose to his feet and cupped your face gently between his hands. “You’re looking for her,” He murmured with a soft smile. “You’re doing something, and you’re doing a better job than the so-called professionals.”

“I can’t even figure out who she argued with, I haven’t done anything.” You choked out, body falling into his as he wrapped his arm around you and cupped the back of your head. “I need her back, I just want her back.”

“I have faith. With you both, I always have.” Jerry smiled.

You weren’t sure what happened after your small breakdown, all you know is that you’re still sitting in Abby’s bedroom 5 hours later. Still sifting through endless pictures, notes, journals, anything to give you a hint of something. Was Abby afraid of someone? Why was she arguing? Who was she arguing with? You had so many questions and yet you felt like you had so little time to get everything. “This is the second time she’s yelled at me, what did I do wrong?” Ellie, who was hunched over the desk, mumbled as your eyes locked onto her back.

“Ellie? Who yelled at you?” You asked, sitting up slowly.

“What? No, It’s a diary entry in Abby’s journal,” She turned around, made her way over to you, climbed onto the bed, and slumped beside you. “Look,” Ellie passed you the book, onto the page she was reading and you furrowed your eyebrows when you saw it.

“Who yelled at her?” You took the journal from her hand and skimmed through more of the pages, ones you assume Ellie has yet to read through. Jesse left not that long ago, muttering apologies but his parents wanted him to help with dinner.

The more you flipped through, the more you noticed.

Sunday, 2nd May 2015.

I think she hates me. I’m not sure what I did for her to hate me, but apparently I must have done something.

Sunday, 2nd May 2015.

She threatened me today. I haven’t stopped crying. I don’t know why she hates me.

Monday, 3rd May 2015.

It’s getting harder and harder to look at her and tell her I’m fine. It’s breaking my heart and I can’t even talk to her about it.

“Obviously the last one has to be about you. So something happened and she couldn’t even talk to you about it, I assume?” Ellie slumped her head on your shoulder and grumbled. “Is there anything else? To just give us a timeline for however long this went on for?”

“That was the last one,” You closed the book and placed it on your lap with another long sigh. “Abby never told Jerry anything, so I doubt talking to him about this is going to do much.”

“So, over the past god knows how many weeks we’ve been doing this, we’ve found out that someone was on Abby’s case, who, that’s still another thing we need to figure out,” Ellie explained, nervously fumbling with the ring on her finger.

“I wish she would have spoken to me, I could have done something, kept her even safer,” You felt worse now than you did earlier, reading those journal entries made your heart sink. Your best friend, the girl you were in love with, was going through something she felt like she couldn’t even talk to you about.

“Abby would hate that you’re blaming yourself,” Ellie frowned, curling into your side and rubbing her nose. “You know that she would never let you think that about yourself, it will kill her to know you’re blaming everything on yourself, still.”

“I always promised I would keep her safe, and I couldn’t even do that. If I did, she would still be here, she wouldn’t be missing, El.”

“When we find her, m’going to ask her for permission to punch you—”

“Why?!” You cut her off, outraged and shocked at her words.

“Because then maybe you’ll stop blaming yourself for this, for everything that’s happened.”

You’re sitting at the bar the next evening when it happens, minding your own business as you wait for Jesse and Ellie, when a guy, a gruff guy walks up to you; slightly drunk and smoking a cigarette, when he bumps into your shoulder and scowls. “Heard you and your little friends are looking for that girl,” He hiccups, the stench of his beer breath has your stomach churning and nose scrunching up at the smell.

“Fucks it to you?”

“She’s been gone for years, no chance she’s gonna turn up now, no?” His laugh made your skin crawl and you didn’t know if you wanted to smash his beer bottle over his head or break his jaw. Maybe both, it would be easier for him to stop talking to you. “I don’t know why you try, she was a lost cause years before she disappeared.”

“You don’t even know her, shut your fuckin’ mouth.” You warned, standing up slowly. You towered over him by a few more inches, and half expected him to cower away, most people did, but he didn’t, he just laughed harder, taking constant drags of his cigarette and looked you up and down. “M’not afraid to shove that bottle down your throat, now fuck off.” Your face was now in his, and the smell of beer smelt worse if that was even possible.

“Oh yeah? The fuck you gonna do? Shove this bottle down my throat? Your threats are empty and pointless, like your search for your little fuckin’ girlfriend—”

“Say one more thing about her, I dare you.”

Before you can go through with your promise, a hand grabs your arm and pulls you away. “He’s not worth it, just let it go.” Ellie, who you hadn’t even noticed arrived, murmured into your ear and dragged you away from the smiling man. “Fighting someone isn’t worth it when we have someone more important to find, okay?”

“Stupid cunt.” You growled at him, letting Ellie drag you out of the bar and into the open air. “Could have just let me throttle the bastard or something.”

“And risk you getting into trouble when Abby is waiting for you?” Jesse spoke up and pushed himself off the wall.

Just her name has you relaxing in your spot and nodding to yourself slowly. Abby was waiting for you, wherever that might be, she was. No matter how long it takes, you’re going to be the one to save the woman you love. All you have is hope. Pulling out your small box of cigarettes along with your lighter, you shove one between your lips, lighting it up and taking a long drag. “So, the notes, the bracelet, what’s next?” You mumbled between puffs.

“Are you chain smoking?” Ellie laughed with a subtle scoff.

“Give me a break, I haven’t slept properly in years,” You rolled your eyes and slumped your head on Jesse’s shoulder. “What’s next?” You asked again.

As Ellie went to open her mouth, Mandy appeared outside the small shop beside the bar, looking over at you and waving quickly. “Y/N!” And before you knew it, she was already standing in front of you before you had the time to register what was going on. “Are you free tonight?”

Coughing on your cigarette, Jesse slapped your back and laughed softly while you cleared your throat and smiled painfully at her. “Tonight? Uhm m’not sure, why?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to come over and have dinner with me?”

“Tonight?”

“Yes, silly, I said tonight didn’t I?”

You could see Ellie rolling her eyes beside you from the corner of your eyes, and as much as you wanted to say no, maybe saying yes might help your case. You could try and find something else about Abby, maybe Mandy might have seen someone being rude or mean to Abby when you weren’t around. “Yeah, sure!” You agreed, a little too enthusiastically for your liking.

“What?!” Ellie shouted.

“Oh really? That would be wonderful, how’s 7?”

“7 is great, Mandy”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Ellie whisper-yelled once Mandy walked away and was so far away that she couldn’t hear you guys. “Are you fucked in the head or something?”

“Relax, If It’s just me with her, she might know something and tell me.”

Eyeing you up closely, she simply sighs and slaps your back gently. “Make sure you text or call if she starts to freak you out too much.”

“Or if she tries to kiss you again,” Jesse added with a snicker.

“You guys are so funny, seriously, should become comedians or something.” You took another drag of your cigarette and glared at them both.

“And never be able to see your angelic face again? How would I survive?” Ellie gasped dramatically and grinned. “No but seriously, don’t give into her weirdness. Remember, only anything to do with Abby, got it?”

“Yes mom,” You huffed while Ellie simply pinched your arm and laughed at your scowl. “We have time to kill until then though. Any idea on who threatened her? I keep thinking but no one comes to mind.”

“No fuckin’ idea, Abby had her secrets, ones she didn’t tell us about, but if it risked her like, m’sure she would have told one of us right? She wouldn’t just hide it until something like this happened?”

“None of us knew this was going to happen, let alone Abby knowing,” You murmured, using your shoe to put out the cigarette you dropped on the floor once you were done with it. “Abby used to have multiple journals, were the others not in there?”

“Not that I saw, she probably kept there somewhere else. Journals aren’t supposed to be snooped in, hiding it is what I would have done if I had one.”

“So you’re saying we look in her room again?”

“Worth a try, might find something else.”

Abby’s Dad didn’t mind that you were once again sitting in her bedroom, it was something you all did when you were younger; Abby’s house being the one that everyone hung out in the most, so changing that routine now would be pointless.

Looking through the endless supply of books in her bookshelf, you bite back another sigh when you placed yet another back, still not finding anything that could be of use or even a fuckin’ clue, and turning around. Ellie was sitting cross-legged on the floor at the end of the bed, going through the journals you both looked through last night, and with the sigh she lets out when she throws her head back, you know it’s another deadend.

“Nothing, again.”

Sitting down beside her, you take the journal from her hands, your fingers brush against the words, even her words were somewhat comforting to you. As you fumbled with the pages, you were suddenly intrigued with what Ellie was doing; Reading notes you all used to write for each other if one of you had gotten into trouble with your parents, and weren’t allowed to leave the house. “Abby never got in trouble, like ever,” She laughed.

“Because we never told Jerry about the other shit,” You snickered, the memory of Abby trying weed for the first time, and her Dad freaking out when you both arrived home, slightly buzzed out your minds, trying to act normal. “He knows about most of the weed stories, but not the insane shit we used to get up to as kids.”

“We were fuckin’ crazy, weren’t we?”

“Oh, we should have been shipped off to the ward for the shit we did.”

“Remember Brenda thinking she had rats in the shop? But it was just us making it seem like she was going crazy?”

“I still regret that, I wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t give me 4 joints before,” You threw your head back and laughed. Your laughter died down quite quickly when you brushed your thumb against the edge of the page, a sharp pain shooting through your hand. “Shit! Ow.”

“Fuck you do?”

“Paper cut,” You grumbled and looked down at your small wound.

Only for your eyes to widen at the slight kink in the paper.

“Ellie”

“Did you know that Abby used to call you butterfly?” Ellie, oblivious to your stare, laughed.

“Ellie” You repeated, louder this time.

“What?”

Turning to face you, her eyes land on the paper instead of your face, and the letters fall from between her fingers once you’re peeling apart two pieces that had somewhat been glued together.

“Typical Abby, fair play,” Ellie murmured once you pushed the two pieces apart.

A whole new entry.

Tuesday, 4th May 2015

I can feel her. She’s everywhere. She’s told me to back off, but what do I say when she notices I’m pulling away? I can’t even smile at her without it being a problem. What if she kills me? She’s crazy, I don’t think anyone understands. I tried to keep her away, but she’s clawing her way into everything and tearing things apart. At night, I can see her outside the window, looking at me, smiling at me, looking at me like she wants to kill me. Who do I tell? Who can I go to without making it a big issue? Is she really capable of killing me? Making me disappear?

What if she kills me?

What if she does?

What if this is the last time I’ll see my friends, my dad, my journals?

What……………….

Closing the book quickly, Ellie flinches beside you at the force, and you pinch the bridge of your nose. “This is getting fuckin’ weird.” You admitted. “I’m going to kill whoever it is.”

“Let’s not jump to those conclusions just yet, is there anything else?”

“No, it’s the only page we haven’t seen. So it’s a woman, a woman was the last person to see her, right? That’s gotta be the only reason right now. We have nothing else and if there is other stuff, we’re fuckin’ missing it.”

“I can look through everything again when you’re with that crazy one, see if we missed anything. I don’t mind drinking another black coffee, some energy drinks and staying awake all night.” Ellie joked.

“I don’t mind going through it all again with you when I get back. We’re still meeting up later, yeah?”

“If she doesn’t somehow kidnap you and trick you into dating you, yeah.”

6:45pm rolled around quickly and you found yourself standing outside of Mandy’s house, one hand shoved in your jacket pocket while the other was at your side, and patiently waiting. Just as you were about to knock a second time, the door swung open to reveal a very happy Mandy, smile so wide you could see her teeth. “You made it!”

“Course,” You laughed, digging your hand deeper into your pocket. “Sorry m’early,”

“Don’t worry, earlier the better! Come in, it’s cold out here tonight,”

Stepping aside to let you in, Mandy’s hand brushes against yours as you walk past her and into her warmer house, oblivious to the way her eyes raked over you, almost a little too desperately. “The food is in the oven, should be ready soon, can I take your jacket?”

“Nah, you’re alright, It’s freezing out there, gotta warm myself up a little.” You smiled, eyes instantly noticing just how neatly the table was set. The candles flickered almost angrily, the cutlery placed perfectly, and the tablecloth somehow matched everything. “This is nice,”

“Yes, isn’t it? I wanted it to be perfect for you.” Mandy commented softly. “I’m just going to check on the food, feel free to take a seat, get yourself comfortable and stuff, I won’t be long.”

“Take your time.”

Just as you sat down at her table, a sudden loud banging had you flinching in your seat. You looked over at Mandy who halted in her steps not even 5 minutes later when she reappeared from the kitchen and from where you were sitting you could see and hear her grinding her teeth together. “What was that?”

“The neighbors are probably decorating again, It’s starting to get on my nerves If I’m being honest.”

“At 7:30?” You laughed nervously.

“They have no consideration for those who live beside them. I’ll start giving them a piece of my mind If they keep it up,” She explained, placing the hot pot in the middle of the table with a bright and wide smile. “There! Can I get you anything to drink? Water? Juice? Wine?”

“Smells amazing,” You smiled and got a little more comfortable in your seat before looking at her again. “Water’s fine, thank you.”

“It’s my Mother’s recipe, nothing beats a homemade meal,” Mandy’s smile never left her face, not even when you quickly dug into the fresh meal. “I’ll be back with your water.”

You were almost done with half of your food by the time she came back with a fresh glass of water, and you looked at her with a thankful smile when she placed it beside your plate. “Thank you,” You mumbled before furrowing your eyebrows. “Sorry, that’s gross.”

“No, no it’s cute, don’t worry.” She giggled, sitting in her own chair.

As she started digging into her meal, her eyes would flutter over at you, but you seem really into whatever it was that she made to notice the subtle flirtatious eyes she was making at you. It was delicious, and you loved food, so you couldn’t complain now could you? “This is really good,” You mumbled between chews.

“I’ll thank my mother for you when I see her again.” Mandy smiled.

“You might want to give me the recipe, it’s so good.”

“As much as I like you, I can’t do that, family recipe.” She smirked widely.

Mandy continued to eat her food, little moans of delight falling from her mouth with each bite she took, while you were suddenly falling into your own world. Mandy hadn’t seemed to notice you had stopped replying to what she was asking you, or just wanted to get the food out of the way before she continued. Either way, it didn’t seem to affect her much. All you could seriously think about was Abby, hoping that she had some source of something to keep her hoping and until you could find her.

“Are you okay? You’ve gone quiet,” Mandy murmured finally, finishing the final piece of her food. “Is it the food? Is it not sitting right with you?”

“No! No the food was amazing, m’just thinking, nothing to worry about.”

“Worried about what?”

“Just worried about Abby is all, like I said, nothing to worry about.” You smiled and wiped your face with the napkin you had on your lap.

You hadn’t noticed the way the smile on her face dropped and just stared at you. “Were you close? You and Abby?” She asked.

“Since we were babies pretty much,”

“That’s nice, nice to have someone close to you and that you can trust, I suppose.” Her voice suddenly got a little quieter, and nursed her glass of wine. “How do you know she didn’t just leave willingly?”

“Abby wouldn’t have left Jerry without a reason, she wouldn’t have left us, left me, without a reason.” You frowned, eyes focused on the empty plate before you. “She’s not the type of person to run away. Even when things are hard, she comes to me for help and she didn’t—”

“Was she in trouble?”

“Someone didn’t like her, threatened her, and I didn’t even know. If she told me, I could have helped her, kept her safe.”

“S’not your job to protect everyone,” Mandy smiled softly, watching you closely. “You know that right? You can’t save everyone, especially if they can’t even save themselves.” Her fingers graze yours on the top of the table, you weren’t even sure how or when she moved hers but when you felt them against yours, your eyes locked with hers. “Maybe Abby left because there are better things out there for her, or maybe she just wanted to see something new.”

“Without me?” The crack in your voice was evident.

“Anyone can leave if they truly need to or want to,” Her fingers continued to brush against yours with each word and you couldn’t even move. “People expect so much from people around here, we’re all trying to live, find someone, and get on with our lives, and sometimes that can be too much for one person to handle. Maybe Abby didn’t want to burden you with a thought she might have had.”

“Her burdens are mine,” You murmured. “Whatever she deals with, we deal with it together.”

Her hand retracted from yours quickly, once again you didn’t notice the scowl on her face, and grabbed your plate from in front of you as well as her own before making her way into the kitchen. “Would you like some dessert?” She asked, abandoning the conversation altogether.

“Oh, uh, sure?”

The light above flickered, making a soft buzzing sound as the room felt colder again. Sunlight wasn’t a luxury anymore, even if it was so desperately needed. Mold has started coming in quicker than before. Even the eerie darkness is something straight out of a nightmare. The only thing in the room that was noticeable was the small lamp on the floor, but even that wasn’t bright enough. It never was.

By the time Mandy came back with two bowls in her hands, you were standing by the bookshelf, running your fingers over the spines of what you can already tell are very old books. “Didn’t know you liked to read books?” You asked, looking over at her.

“Oh yeah! I love books, mostly the classics, but the thriller ones are my favorite. Could read them all day. I actually have to return those to Brenda soon, had them way too long.” She giggled and placed the bowls on the table. “What is your favorite?”

“The Shining.”

“Haven’t read it before, do you have a copy I could borrow?”

“Yeah sure, I’ll find it and give It to you.”

“Perfect, let’s eat dessert!”

“Glad you’re back in one piece,” Ellie was the first to comment when she noticed you walking into the bar an hour later. “Didn’t try to shove her tongue down your throat this time?”

“Like you tried with Abby that one time you got drunk?” You quipped back with a lazy grin and slumped into the chair beside her. “Nah, she just kept touching my hand, not trying to kiss me this time.”

“Oh? Are you lovebirds now?”

“Knock it off, El.” Jesse laughed and continued to sip his beer.

“No, you imbecile, she did get weird whenever I spoke about Abby though,” You shrugged, pinching some of Ellie’s chips. “Like, she just got up and went to get dessert?”

“She’s always been weird, so fuckin’ obsessed with you for a start.” It was Jesse this time.

“Really? I never got that vibe before,”

“You wouldn’t, you’re like so fucking oblivious to most shit,” Ellie snorted. “You didn’t even realize I was flirting with you when I first met you. Took you 4 months to say, Ellie, were you asking me on a date that one time? Oblivious.”

“In my defense, you fuckin’ flirt with everyone,” You defended with a soft laugh, and eyed up the pictures on the table. “What are you guys doing anyway?”

“Well, while you and Barbie were having your little date, me and Jesse were going through the rest of the pictures. Nothing has jumped out yet, but I do have a feeling something will point us in the right direction this time.”

“Right, pass us some then,”

“Of course your majesty.”

“Fuck off, man,” You snickered and snatched the pile from her hand. “Oh, you know the family that lives beside Mandy?”

“Huh? Beside Mandy?”

“Yeah, the family that lives next door?”

“No one has lived in that house for like 4 years,” Ellie blinked, confusion written all over her face.

“Oh, she said they were decorating or something earlier, there was banging and that’s what she told me.”

“Joel knows more than me about anyone, I’ll ask him later, see if anyone’s moved in since the other family,” Ellie promised with a tired smile.

“Thanks, El,” A chip that you flicked hit her in the chin and you held back a laugh when her eyes widened and she suddenly scowled at you. “Sorry, you looked like you needed something to cheer you up. Did you sleep much last night?”

“A few hours, better than none, right?” The smile she gave you didn’t reach her face. Everyone is like that lately and you sadly understood why. The community wasn’t exactly whole right now.

“Want to watch a movie tonight?” You suggested as you ate some more chips.

“What one?”

“Uhm, you pick, I don’t mind which one.”

“Don’t wanna freak anyone out or anything,”

“What is it?”

“There’s someone in the background of the picture you and Abby took the night before, well, you know, you can’t see much but It’s someone for sure,” Jesse mumbled and slid the picture over to you.

The background is blurry, you notice that much at first but as you squint your eyes just a little more, a black silhouette is something you can pick out. Standing behind what you can only assume Is one of the trees just across the ways of the pond both you and Abby spent a lot of time at. “It’s too dark, I can’t fucking pick out who it is,” You huffed. “Do you think It might be who threatened her?”

“And risk getting caught when she’s with you? Knowing damn well you’d knock their teeth out?” Ellie laughed.

“Anything’s possible, El.”

“Let’s say this is them, how do we find out who it is?”

“Could host a small get-together tomorrow night here, remembering Abby or something, and we all write something for her, see if someone slips up and exposes themselves?” Jesse suggests, looking between you and Ellie.

“It could work,” Both you and Ellie answered at the same time. “But how would we know who it is if they turn up and say something bad?”

“No idea, but we’ll figure it out as we go. Haven’t we always done that?” He smiled and pushed the rest of the pictures which were of no use back into the box before putting the lid on. “We’ve always had each other's back, that’s not going to change.”

“I’ll do whatever It takes If It means we’re one step closer to finding Abby.” You agreed.

“Alright, you’ve pulled my leg, I’m in too.” Ellie dramatically huffed but the smile on her lips gave her away. “Let’s watch that sappy romance movie,”

“Which one?”

“Abby’s favorite.”

“You, Ellie Williams, want to watch Love Actually? Willingly?”

“Why are you saying my name like that?! Yes, let’s watch it.” She scoffed and slapped the back of your head when she stood up. “Besides, you and Abby can bully me all you want for wanting to watch it when she’s back with us.”

“She’ll never let you live it down, you know what right?”

“Yeah, but It’s worth It, she is too.” Ellie winked.

—

The following evening dawned on you quicker than you would have liked. All of you were on edge. The picture, the missing charms, the truth that someone didn’t like Abby had you, Ellie and Jesse looking around the bar with caution.

The remembrance of Abby had the all clear, everyone helped and chipped in where they could. Jerry was over the moon when you told him that you guys were doing this for her. Maybe in hopes that it would bring you one step closer, or maybe one step closer to her coming home.

Thursday, 6th June 2015

“Abby, you look beautiful, why are you panicking?” Abby was sitting on the edge of her bed, fumbling with her bracelet yet not looking at you. “Hey, Abs, what’s up?” You crouched in front of her and took her hands into yours with a soft smile.

“I don’t feel beautiful,” She admitted sadly.

“Oh, Abby, you are beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful, your soul is perfect and stunning. You are the most beautiful person in the world. Your hair is beautiful, your smile is beautiful, your pretty eyes are stunning,” Her sniffle caused you to pause, reach your hand up and wipe it away. “Everything about you is beautiful.”

“Really?”

Cupping her face between your hands, you press you lips against her forehead and smile. “Yes, really, you are so fuckin’ beautiful.” You whispered into her skin. “I promise, love.”

How could you not see the pain she was holding back, behind the little glint in her eye?

“To Abby!”

Jerry’s voice brought you back to reality, smiled at everyone who raised a glass in her honor and nodded to himself as he walked down the small steps. “Thank you for coming,” He murmured to a few of the older couples who gave him a gentle hug and a soft reassurance. “I know that Abby would have loved to see you guys together again.”

On edge, you looked around the bar slowly, trying to pick out anyone that was acting weird or unusually suspicious. That’s how you looked at most people these days, picking them out one by one, wondering if they had done or said anything to Abby the night she vanished. You spotted Ellie doing the same on the other side of the room, taking small unsuspicious glances at everyone who came in and left. “Here,”

To your left, Jesse was holding a beer towards you, which you took with a soft thank you, and leaned against the wall with you. “Anyone catch your eye yet?”

“Not yet, everyone seems to be kind, and talking to Jerry, cheering him up and stuff,” You mumbled between sips, eyes still moving around as each person moves around before you. “I don’t think they would hide, we know most people here, if anyone’s missing, we’ll know.”

“And if they do choose to miss something that is important to the community, then they are hiding something.” Jesse added.

“Exactly, I don’t think they’re stupid enough to let it slip, know that we know something.”

“Did that guy who told you she was arguing with someone tell you anything else or?”

“Deadend, he just smiles at me all weird like now when I see him.” You grimaced and took a big gulp of your beer.

“It’s that friendly smile you have.”

“Eat a dick.” You laughed.

In the middle of the bar, there was a box, which gave people to write notes, poems, or even just one word, so that when Abby did come back home, she would have kind things to read, and hopefully it would be able to cheer everyone else up when they read a few of them nearing the end of the night. You thought the idea was a good one when Jerry asked you about it this morning. He enjoyed having your input when it came to his daughter.

You wrote something simple, not overdone, but a little i miss you and i love you more than anything. It meant more than anything, Abby would know that if she was here right now, reading them. You always noticed the way she would blush and look away when you would tell her you love her before you either hung up after being on a phone call with her for hours, or even when you left her house. “I love you.” You murmured, folded the piece of paper and pressed you lips to it.

Ellie smiled from across the room.

She always found it amusing it took you years to know you were indeed madly in love with your best friend.

“Hey,”

You almost gave yourself whiplash with how fast you turned around to find Dina looking at you and nervously fumbling with her fingers. “Dina, hey,” You smiled awkwardly.

“Do you hate me? It would make sense if you did, with how I pulled away from you all, but with Abby going missing, I just got scared, and being around you guys made me miss her so much.” Dina rushed out.

“I don’t hate you,” You reassured her quietly. “I understand though, it’s okay, we all deal with it differently, but I don’t hate you, none of us do.”

“Is Ellie okay?” She asked hesitantly.

“I don’t think so, but she’s getting there,” You admitted truthfully. “You should talk to her.”

“Wouldn’t that be awkward?”

“Nothing’s awkward unless you make it awkward.” You winked with a soft laugh.

“Right, I’ll go and see her, if she starts freaking out, you should probably come over or something.” Dina smiled.

“Will do.”

If it wasn’t for the fact you were already looking at Ellie, you would have had a stroke when you heard the loud crashing of her falling off the chair when she noticed Dina making her way towards her. Snorting under your breath, you shook your head, pushed yourself off the wall and made a beeline straight for the beer. “Usual?” Elaine, the older woman who took over the bar after her husband passed, smiled when you were quick to nod and slump yourself against the counter. “You look tired, you sleepin’?”

“When I can, which isn’t much,” You mumbled softly with a subtle shrug. “But what can you do? Sleep is the last thing I need right now.”

“Maybe you need just a little bit to find her.”

Pushing the beer into your direction, she laughed at the way your lips parted as you grabbed it; ready to ask her how she knew. “Jerry told me earlier when he came here to set up. It’s a good thing, you know? Abby adored you, and I know how much you care about her.”

“I seem to be getting nowhere when I feel like m’finally getting somewhere.”

“There’s more out there than meets the eye, Honey,” Elaine smiled. “You just have to look closer.”

“What do you—”

“Y/N?” Jerry called out.

God fucking damn it.

At his voice, you turn your body slightly, almost stiffly and raise an eyebrow at him. You quietly excuse yourself from the conversation you got yourself into with Elaine when he waved you over, and took a couple of strides towards him, placing your almost empty bottle of beer on the table beside you. “What’s up?”

“I was just going through some of the notes, you know, the ones people left for Abs, and I found this. What does it mean?” He explained, slightly rushed and shoved a piece of paper into your hands with worry written all over his face. “Did someone hurt her? Take her from me? Why?”

Your eyebrows furrow as you look down at the slip of paper in your hands, looking back up at him confused. “What is it?”

“Read it, It’ll make more sense if you see it.”

Doing as you’re told, you don’t have time to acknowledge the small fact that your hands start to tremble as you unfold the little note with caution. Your lips part, body tensing as your eyes widen as you read over the note slowly. Not fully understanding. “Someone put this here?” You asked, voice cracking. “When?”

“I’m not sure, so many people have been leaving notes. I wouldn’t have been able to catch who.” Jerry shook his head, and gripped the edge of the table tightly. “If someone’s hurt her, m’gonna kill them. M’gonna kill them, Y/N”

“Not before us,” You murmured, already looking around the room. “Who was in charge of the box?”

“Me, and a couple of others, but this is the only bad one.”

“You’ve looked at the rest?”

“Of course.”

“Alright, put it somewhere else, out of sight from everyone. If this is the only bad one, then it’s possible they’re just trying to scare us, making up a lie about what’s happened to her. She’s fine, okay? Abby is strong, and we’re gonna find her.” You nodded. You weren’t sure who you were trying to reassure more, you or Jerry? Both of you? The whole town?

“What are you going to do?” He blinked.

“Figure it out. That’s what m’gonna do.”

The night rushed along slowly as you, and a bunch of others made your way out of the bar, cigarette hanging between your lips and a cold beer in your hands. The note played on your mind angrily, eating and chewing away at your brain, almost trying to claw its way out of your head as you inhaled hit after hit of your cigarette. Who here hates Abby enough to hurt her? Take her away? She was nice to everyone, always offering to help someone who needed it, never letting the older people carry stuff too heavy, Abby wouldn’t hurt a fly, so why would they feel the need to hurt her? Take her away from where she loves? From the people she adores? It doesn't make sense.

The longer you stood there, practically taking Ellie’s thought into consideration, pulling out cigarette after cigarette, the darkness seemed to loom and lurk more creepy than any other night. Almost like it was mocking you, judging you from afar as you tried to wrap your head around everything. Even the journal pages still don’t make sense to you and it’s been over a week since the first. It’s like she left, and suddenly you’re trying to figure out a really fucked up riddle in order to get you prize, the prize being Abby once everything slots into place like a puzzle.

“Let’s get you home, Honey. Night time around here has become a little scarier than before.” You spot a mother wrapping her daughter up on her scarf and jacket before holding onto her hand tightly after she places a kiss on her forehead. “Stay close to Mommy and you’ll be okay, alright?”

You wish Abby stayed close to you.

You watch the family walk away down the path, the lights casting a shadow around them. Like a possessed child, the shadow like a demon hanging on by a thread as they were no longer in your peripheral each step they took until they were around the corner. Gone just like Abby.

As you dropped your cigarette on the ground, you caught something behind one of the trees when you looked back up, lurking in the darkness and your body suddenly tensed on the spot. Did Abby feel like this? Did she feel like her entire soul left her body when she knew someone was watching her? Following her?

“Hey!” You shouted, dropping your bottle in the process as you walked over to them, or trying to. It seemed like you had slightly spooked them, not aware you were staring right at them. “Hey!” This time you started running as you saw the rustle of the leaves, the snapping of twigs under their feet. “Stop running away!” You called out, pushing the branches out of your way.

Were you really doing this right now? Running after someone who could easily just kill you?

In your eyes, you could see the outline of their figure under the moonlight, shimming between trees, jumping over tree’s that’ve been left to fend for themselves over the years, and even though the pain and burn in your legs were starting to ache more and more the longer you ran after them, you couldn’t stop. You needed to do this no matter the outcome. “Stop running away from me!” You shouted, jumping over the same tree as they did. “I just want to talk! That’s all! Stop fuckin’ running!” You huffed.

You didn’t see the branch hanging in front of you, or the rock on the floor, not until tripped, your face smacked into the branch harshly and landed on the floor with a loud thud. “Fuck,” You groaned, cupping your nose quickly with a wince. “Fuck!” You yelled, spitting out the dirt.

Rolling yourself over slowly, you puffed out a sigh as your eyes fluttered open; the midnight sky lurked down at you, almost inviting it to eat you whole. If it could reach out and grab you, you would be the darkness’s first victim. The chitter of insects in between the long grass had your ears perking up as you sat up. Cupping the back of your head, you hissed and screwed your eyes shut tightly and pulled yourself up off the floor.

Looking around, even though it was no use and they were probably gone already, you stumbled towards one of the trees and leaned against it tiredly. But all things turn you angry at some point.

All you could really think about the fact you still hadn’t found Abby the longer you slumped yourself there, and that was enough to anger you enough until you repeatedly punched at the oak, over and over again until your knuckles were completely red, bits of wood stuck in your skin, but you didn’t care, if you don’t have Abby, what was the point?

“Fuck you!” Your scream echoed eerily.

The flap of bird wings rang out loudly around you.

It took you an hour to trek back to the town. You held your hand against your chest, your nose stung like a bitch but this was the last thing on your mind as you stumbled your way through the crowds of drunk people, not giving you a single glance or worrying about the fact your nose was still bleeding, you probably broke a few knuckles. “Jess, have you seen Y/N?” You heard Ellie’s voice but couldn’t see her.

“Y/N? No, I haven’t seen her for a couple hours, now that I’m thinking about it.”

“Shit, alright, uhm,”

The sound of loud crashing caused both of them to look straight at you as you stumbled over one of the tables. “I think we found her?” Jesse laughed.

“Shit, Y/N?” Ellie’s eyes widened at the sight of your bloody nose and rushed over to your side; not before watching you struggle 4 times to stand on your feet. “Fuck, what the fuck happened to you?” She scoffed, pulling you up carefully.

“Someone,” You groaned and slumped your head against her shoulder. “Someone was watching, through the trees, ran after them but hit my head, broke my nose, I think? And then I lost them, so I punched a tree, I think my knuckles are broken.” You explained with a slight slur in your voice. “But m’fine, just need to sit down for a second.”

“That’s a lot of I thinks, we can’t leave you alone for five fuckin’ minutes.” Ellie muttered under her breath and wrapped her arm around your waist tightly. “Let’s get you to mine, Joel’s out with Tommy so he won’t ask questions.”

With the help of her and Jesse, you made it to Ellie’s house in one piece, well minus your dignity that the tree smacked out of you, but you still made it without another fall. They had managed to patch up your knuckles, and stopped the bleeding of your nose, ignoring every curse and wince that fell from between your bloody lips; telling you that it was your own fault for going without some kind of help or backup. “So who did you see?” Jesse asked, dropping the dirty rags in the bin and turning to face you again.

“I was drinking my beer, and then I saw someone behind the trees, if this is the same person who was watching Abby, I can tell you it would have freaked anyone out—”

“Says the one who ran after them.” Ellie scoffed from beside you.

“You were talkin’ to Dina, and Jesse was, well Jesse was where he usually goes, which is where? I don’t know.” You glared at the pair of them. “But m’here, no?”

“Luckily.” Ellie sighed and pulled the tissue from out of your nose carefully. “What if something else seriously bad happened to you? And no one was there to get you?”

“M’not going anywhere—”

“You don’t fuckin’ know that! You can’t just disappear without telling one of us. That’s not fair.”

The panic and worry in Ellie’s eyes is something you haven’t seen since Abby went missing. She didn’t talk about how she felt, but her eyes and face did, which is why your shoulder sagged and you nodded slowly. “I know, El, m’sorry, okay?” You smiled sadly.

“For what it’s worth, this whole look—” She pointed to your entire face with a laugh. “Is so worth it. M’gonna tell Abby you risked breaking your knuckles and nose for her.”

“And she’ll ignore me for a week—”

“A week? She will ignore you for a solid 5 seconds before she’s asking you to cuddle her.” Jesse laughed with a slow head shake. “Did you find anything else out? Minus the dumb injuries?”

“There’s one thing Jerry showed me.”

“What is it?”

Reaching into your back pocket with a quiet groan, you pulled the slip of paper out and handed it to Ellie, who was watching you closely. “That’s all that happened tonight.”

Unfolding it, exactly like you did earlier tonight, Ellie’s eyebrows furrow into a tight frown almost and nothing comes out of her mouth when opens it and instead she looks back at you with wide eyes. “This happened tonight?”

“Let me see,” Jesse held his hand out and took it from her. His eyes widen too. “How didn’t we notice? How many people were going to that box?”

“M’not sure.”

Does a domino effect really have to happen in my life? You thought.

Ellie, who’s usually the one to be the first to ask what’s next, doesn’t do that, instead she looks at you and frowns. “You need to rest, If Jesse has to leave, I can figure out what’s next for this sudden murder club search party, but you need to get some sleep, and I won’t take no for an answer. Got it?”

“El—”

“I said got it?”

Slumping against the bed, you simply nodded like a lost puppy and folded your arms over your chest, completely forgetting about your broken knuckles you winced. “Fine, but if you find anything, wake me up, yeah? Please?”

“If you’re knocked out cold, then no, but I will if you aren’t.”

“The tree already knocked her out cold” Jesse chimed in with a sudden laugh.

“Both of you go fuck yourself!”

Brenda, poor woman was reading through one of her own books, jolted in her spot and looked up when the bell on the door rang, and held back a sigh at the sight of you and Ellie stumbling in through the small door with curses and grumbles. “Brenda! My favourite lady!”

“Ellie, may I remind you of the time you almost broke my window? we aren’t even acquaintances”

“I paid for it to be fixed, didn’t I?!” Ellie moaned and kicked the floor childishly. “Can we look at that book you keep when people loan or bring back books? We have something we want to compare,”

“For?”

“Just something we are working on, please? It’ll only take a couple minutes,” Your friend begged, leaned over the counter and pouted. “I will even ask Joel if he will take you on that date!”

“Date?! Excuse me—”

“You’re in love with Joel, do this for me, and then I’ll get you that date with him”

“Fine, but don’t knock anything over like last time, It took me an hour to fix everything.” She scowled and walked away.

“You’re the best!” Ellie shouted after her.

The flight flickered on, and the sounds of loud banging could wake anyone up, even the small insects that lurk in the long grass outside in the wilderness. “Need to take these back, hope you enjoyed those pathetic reads.” They mumbled, snatching the books from the dirty floor and scoffed. “Don’t understand what’s so special about them or you. Also, I can't afford to borrow anymore so this is the last of them for you.”

Just as fast it went on, the light was gone and it felt even colder once the door slammed shut.

Hunching over the counter, Ellie spots the thick yet old book and grabs it with both hands, a soft grunt slipping past her lips before pulling it over the counter and dropping it on the oak, the loud bang causing you to flinch and flick her ear. “Ow!”

“That’s for trying to give me a heart attack.” You scoffed and slapped her shoulder. “So this was your big plan? Look through the names until one stands out?”

“Yeah or until we find one that matches, I guess?”

“Brenda, I know i’m late with returning these books but— Hey!” Mandy halted in her steps mid way through the door when she spotted you and Ellie leaning on the counter, looking through something. “Loaning another book, Y/N?”

“Oh, no not today, just finding something for Joel.” You lied, Ellie almost snickering behind her hand at your blatant lie. “You read them already?”

“Oh yeah! I had some free time after you left last night, really enjoyed them”

“What was your favourite?”

The question caught her off guard as her lips formed into a pout as she thought about it. “Uh, I really liked Pride and Prejudice, the others were boring but that one was amazing.”

No one in this town apart from me and Abby love that book. You thought.

“Ah, well m’glad you enjoyed it. Do you still want to borrow my copy of the shining?”

Mandy chewed her inner cheek before nodding a little too quickly and smiled again. “Yeah, of course! Those stupid neighbors finally stopped decorating so I can probably get a night in to read some of it!”

“Mandy, hello Love.” Brenda appeared with a mug in her hand and a plate of biscuits. “Returning them already? That was fast.”

Placing the stack of books on the counter, Mandy simply gave her a warm smile, one that was slowly starting to creep you out, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Can’t afford to borrow anymore for a while, my brain is fried with all the stories I’ve read this week.”

“No worries, Honey, just sign in the books you borrowed and they’ll be more for you next time when you do want to read again. Girls, can she use that for a second and then you can get back to whatever you were doing.”

“A date is on the line, Brenda, don’t rush me”

“I’ll rush you both out of that door,” Brenda smirked and the words died in throat once Ellie nodded her head quickly, picked up the book and practically shoved it in shocked Mandy’s hand with a stutter of words. “Thank you.”

“Do you have a pen I could borrow?”

Reaching for the one beside you, you hold it out towards her, which she takes with a soft thank you, places the book back on the counter and doodles her name onto the sheet of paper. “Thank you again, Brenda. You always have a really good selection of books!”

“You’re more than welcome, Love.”

“See you later, Y/N?”

“What’s happening later?” Ellie eyed her.

“It’s that party thing, dunno if m’going though,” You smile and shoved your hands into your pockets. “If I do, I assume you’re going?”

“Yes! The only time I get to be free and myself, I guess. So I’ll be there. If you do change your mind and come, I’ll see you there?”

“For sure.” Another tight lipped smile.

Mandy took her leave not long after, leaving you and Ellie to your little search once more and Brenda took herself into a little corner of the shop to what you could only assume was to read one of her books. “Now that she’s gone,” Ellie trailed off.

Opening the book again, you brush your fingers down the list of people until it lands on hers; furrowing your eyebrows when you look at the book in front of you again, you lean your face closer and look at the signature a little longer, for far too long until you’re shoving your hand in your back pocket, rummaging around for the slip of paper you and Ellie took last night. “What are you doing?” Ellie laughed, watching you struggle.

Pride and Prejudice ………………………… Mandy ♡

“Look at her name,” You murmured, pulling the slip of paper out.

“Whos? Mandy’s?”

“The way she’s spelt it.”

Once you unfolded the paper, your eyes flickered between the slip between your fingers, and the name in the book, Ellie doing the same, having to lean over you. “Wait,” She paused, snatching it from you and taking a look for herself.

Ellie looks at her name, and then at the note again;

ABBY DESERVED WHAT SHE GOT. ♡

“Did she just—”

“The fuckin’ heart, Ellie.”

“Wait, is she really that fucking insane?” Ellie looked at the slip still in shock. “Are you joking me? She’s been under our nose this entire time?”

“So, the banging I heard?”

“Wasn’t anyone fucking decorating that’s for sure.”

“Before we jump to conclusions, let’s just go get something to eat, m’starving, and go through what we have. Anyone could write hearts next to their name.”

“In the exact same way she does it? I doubt it.” Ellie murmured, tore the page out of the book quickly and stuffed it in her jacket pocket. Glaring at your stare. “What? Brenda won’t fuckin’ miss it.”

Shuffling out of the door, you and Ellie spot Mandy happily skipping away, and the sight has your friend scowling ad mumbling incoherently under her breath, “Why’s she so fuckin’ happy all the time? Has she never dealt with sadness or hurt in her life?”

Nudging her shoulder with yours as you both walk, you shook your head. “Apparently not. Look at me, depressed as fuck.”

“Same,” Ellie looked at you before you both burst out into a laugh. “Man, if she’s somehow done anything to be the reason Abby went missing, m’gonna kill her. You know that right? I don’t care what you say, I’ll do it.”

“Ellie—”

“No, whoever took Abby from us, is going six feet under. You can’t stop me.”

“Let’s feed you, that monster is hungry—”

“Y/N, m’not joking, this isn’t a joke—”

“I know, and that’s what’s scaring me right now, Ellie.”

Pushing past you with a grumble at your words, Ellie’s quick to find a seat in the far corner, out of the way from people, and ushers you to hurry up. “I’ll be right with you, Honey, just have to get a few orders out of the way.” The old woman smiled from behind the counter.

“No worries!”

Unzipping your jacket, and placing it on the back of your chair, you sit down opposite Ellie and really look at her. She’s frowning, which means she’s deep in thought again, and that only means she’s planning something, something that you aren’t sure is supposed to scare you or make you happy. The bags under her eyes are much darker than they were last week, so that’s a clue she’s not been sleeping no matter how many times she’s told you she has been. Her lips are in a tight line. Even her smile lines are vanishing. “And then I think— Why are you lookin’ at me like that?” She mumbled, catching you staring.

“S’nothing, you just look exhausted,” You offered a soft smile. “What are we eating?”

“I’ll just share with you, order whatever.”

Ellie was always a picky eater, well she says she is but always steals any of the food you make or buy, and went with something simple when it was your turn to order food; a bowl of chips, salsa and a chicken sandwich. “—And then we have the note, if that crazy psycho took the book out last week, then Abby’s alive, which means she has to be here somewhere, and we’re just not looking hard enough—”

“The woman at the bar, who got me a beer, told me that we need to look closer, so you might be right,” You nodded, munching on your chips. “She might know something, but doesn’t want to get too close to it, I don’t blame her, this whole thing has been freakin’ me the fuck out.”

“So Abby’s here somewhere?” Ellie took a handful of chips and ate them slowly. “That’s what we’re going with?”

“Yeah, but where? We know this place like the back of our hands. We would have found her already by now.”

“That’s where m’confused because I don’t know. I have no idea where she could be—”

“Y/N, Ellie! I’m so glad I found you guys!” Brenda’s voice rings out.

The pair of you turn in your seats, and look at her with your mouths full with food, and staring like a deer in headlights. “Brenda, miss us already? It’s been 30 minutes.” You coughed, swallowed your food and wiped your face. “What’s wrong?” You asked when you noticed her worried look.

“There’s something you need to see, I haven’t told anyone else yet, apart from you guys.” She rushed out, pulling a book out of her bag and placing it on the table. “I was going through them, like I always do just to make sure she didn’t rip any of the pages, some people have done it, and I found this.”

“Pride and Prejudice?” You blinked.

“Just look at the back. please.”

Looking over at Ellie, who was just watching with confusion written all over her face and still eating, you open the book and skip through the pages, until you’re on the last page before the back. “Did you hide spiders here? To scare me?” You laughed nervously.

“It’s about Abby.” Was all she could stutter out.

Once the words fell from her mouth, your hands dropped the book on the final page, and all of you looked down at it. Staring at it like the horribly written words were going to jump out of the page and eat you. “She took this book out last week.”

M….Mandy

Crazy…

Abby

“Is that—” Ellie swallowed and locked eyes with you. “She’s still—”

“Alive.”

“So what’s the plan?” Ellie mumbled into your ear, the 3 of you watching a very happy Mandy dancing with her friends, and snatched your beer from your hand. “We corner her?”

“Not here,” You shook your head. “Too obvious. She would see it coming.”

“You think she knows we know?” Jesse asked.

“I don’t think so, If she knows that we know, I don’t think she would have shown up tonight,” You grabbed a handful of chips and shoved them into your mouth. “Besides, this way, we can observe her, try catching her saying or doing anything that could expose her.”

“We’ve been looking through so much shit for the last month, why can’t I just hit her?” Ellie grumbled and slumped in the chair like a scolded child with a pout on her face.

“Look what happened to Y/N when she went against a tree,”

“Jesse! Stop bringin’ up that fucking tree.” You groaned and threw your head back.

“It’s funny!” He laughed.

“Your poor nose didn’t think so,” Ellie cooed playfully and kissed your cheek. “Don’t tell Abby, she will actually kill me for that.”

“Leave my nose alone!”

Amongst your conversation with your friends, you hadn’t notice Mandy walking over to your table until she slid into the empty chair beside Jesse and that’s when all the laughter died down. “Who died?” She giggled, words slightly slurred. “I’m just coming to see how you are doing.”

“M’good,”

“Been better.”

“I think I’m gonna get another drink, Ellie? Y/N? You guys want anything?”

“Two beers!” Ellie cheered.

Fumbling with the bowl of chips, your eyes flicker between Jesse at the bar, and Mandy who was happily sipping her drink through a straw, not worried about the fact you were either about to lose your shit, or throw a chair at her. “So, how’s the search going?”

“S’fine,” You shrugged, not wanting to give her too much without her catching on that you knew. “Keep hitting deadends, but it’s fine besides that.”

“You’re smart, you’ll figure it out.”

Ellie makes a face of disgust at her, her need and want to just throw something at this girl gets stronger every time she opens her mouth with something ridiculous. “Is Jesse making the beers or something? Why is he taking so long?”

“Ellie, half the town is here,” You laughed and threw a chip at her. “Be patient.”

“It’s hard to have that when you live here.” She grumbled and leant her head on your shoulder. “Wake me up when he’s back.”

“You got it, El.” You laughed.

You hadn’t expected her to actually fall asleep, but when you feel her body slumping more into your side not even 10 minutes later, you’re quick to wrap your arm around her to stop her from falling off the chair and onto the floor. Nor do you notice the look of annoyance on Mandy’s face, still sipping her drink. “I would have guessed Jerry would have been helping you search for Abby. Did you say that was her name?”

The question catches you off guard, slightly offended she even thought of it let alone asked it; Jerry spent countless months of time over several months searching for her. Never eating or sleeping, he stayed awake in hopes she would walk through the door at any given moment. “How long have you lived here?” You found yourself asking and cocking your head to the side.

“How long have I lived here? Oh, since I was like 8 or 9. Why?”

“Then you’d know we look out for our own. Same thing happened when a little boy went missing for 3 days when I turned 16, we all went looking for him and brought him home when we found him. It doesn’t matter if we have distaste or disagreements with someone, if something happens in our community, we help each other, we search, and we don’t rest until we find them.” You explained slowly, eyeing her up. “Jerry doesn’t sleep, just because you don’t see him asking every single person where his daughter is, doesn’t mean he’s not looking. Jerry would kill everyone in his way to get to his daughter. That’s how much he gives a shit about her. We all do.”

“Would you?” It’s like your words didn’t phase her.

“Would I what?”

“Kill someone to get her?”

Looking down at Ellie, your eyebrow raises just slightly, and it’s back to normal before she can blink and when you chuckle, her skin crawls. “S’not me they should be worried about. When we find whoever took her, m’gonna have to keep Ellie on a tight leash or she’ll be like a rabid dog looking for something to chew,” You paused and inhaled deeply when your eyes met. “But I would, if you want the truth. I would kill anyone if it meant I could have Abby back.”

“Do you have it in you?”

“If the right person fucks with my family, yeah,” The smirk you gave her caused Mandy to shift around in her seat comfortably. A sense of terror seeps into the cracks of her skin and travels up her spine. “I wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet between their fuckin’ eyes, unless Ellie gets to it before I do.”

“Make it seem like a horror movie.” She giggled.

“I think we’re scarier than anything in a horror movie you’ve seen before, Mandy.”

On a note, she hadn’t realised or seemed to have noticed just how bold and eerie you got when you would bluntly stare. Like Ellie, Mandy never understood what you were thinking about when sitting there, zoning out like a zombie. At some points she expects to start seeing cartoon bubbles with those pictures appearing by the side of your head. “What’s the scariest movie you’ve seen?”

“The life m’fucking livin’. That’s what.”

“Your life isn’t that—”

A tray of beers enters your vision as you look up to find Jesse side eyeing Mandy, and then looking at a sleeping Ellie on your shoulder. “At least she’s sleeping. What were you guys talking about?” He asked, wrapping his lips around the bottle and gulping down the liquid.

“I was just telling Mandy that m’not afraid to kill whoever took Abby from us.”

“Remember when you tried to kill that guy who stole your chips a while back?” Jesse smirked, subtly waiting for Mandy’s reaction.

“For stealing chips?” She choked out, pushing her chair out, picking up her almost empty glass and rising to her feet.

“Oh yeah, the guy’s terrified of me.” You smiled.

“I would have been too if you tried to kill me for taking your chips. I need to get another drink. Speaking of, do you want more chips?”

“You’re alright, your friends look like they miss you”

“They’re all drunk, but I’ll see you.”

Once she left, you finally let out a laugh. “Really Jesse? When did I try to kill a man for stealing my chips?” You shook your head and took your beer.

“I tried to see if it would get a reaction out of her, not sure if it worked though,” He shrugged, once again taking a longer glance at Ellie. “Has she been asleep for a long?”

“Not a long time, but she just fell asleep when she came over here, I thought she was joking until she practically fell into me and I don’t have it in me to wake her up, not when she’s barely slept much since we started all this.” You murmured and rubbed her back slowly.

“I can hear you both talking, stop being so loud.” Ellie grumbled against your shoulder and peeled her eyes open slowly. “Is she gone? Can I get the fuck up now?”

“Were you fakin’ that?” Your hand slapped the back of her head gently; which she laughed at when she sat up completely. “After tonight, you’re getting at least 15 hours sleep.”

“Says you, you haven’t slept in like 10 years.”

“I take naps when needed”

“Not enough, those dark circles under your eyes finally match that bruised nose.”

“Enough with my nose! And the tree!” You warned when Jesse opened his mouth. “Let me live it down for fuck sake.”

“I don’t think I can, the story was hilarious,” The brunette smirked, hands running down her face as she yawned into the palm of her hand. “So, did she start freaking out when Jesse said you tried to kill someone?”

“Not like we hoped.”

Once the clock hit 11pm, Ellie was the first to notice Mandy slipping out of the doors, with a few of her friends following closely behind. “She’s leaving, let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“Following her. She wrote the note, she doesn’t fuckin’ read books, she can’t even read the fact you aren’t interested in her, and she’s obsessed with you for a reason none of us know. She knows something, if you don’t want to follow her, I’ll go alone.” Ellie rambled on and she jumped to her feet.

“Like fuck you’re going alone. Jesse open your mouth about a certain something, I will hit you.” You warned again, looking at him with a harsh glare. “Not a single word about it ever again, you guys got it?”

“I was just going to say that Abby owes you two kisses for the black eye you got.” He smiled innocently. “Risked your whole face for her. Props to you.”

“Can we talk about you and Abby flirting after?”

“Right, let’s go then.”

You kept your distance, not wanting to give anything away. A part of you did feel slightly uncomfortable with the fact you were literally following someone, but the other part of your brain was screaming at you. She knows what happened to Abby. She knows something. It wasn’t like you could ignore that gnawing feeling in your mind. “What are we going to do if we find something?” Ellie asked, huddling close to you.

“I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it?” You murmured with each cautious step. “If she’s as crazy as that note proves then we can’t just throw ourselves at her and attack her.”

Hiding behind the tree when she suddenly drops her purse, Ellie grabs onto the back of your shirt tightly as you all watch Mandy scrambling to pick it up and stumbling her way up the path towards her house; almost tripping over in the process and if it wasn’t for the fact your hand quickly came up and cupped Ellie’s mouth, the laugh she let out would have gotten you all caught. “Shut the fuck up.” You warned.

“Yes, Boss.”

“Ellie’s gonna be the reason we all die.” Jesse grumbled, sneakily running over towards the other tree that was closer to her house. “I think she’s gone in the house now, you can move.” He waved you over, still looking at the window.

“Don’t laugh, or you’ll get us caught.”

“God, I won’t laugh again unless she falls out of the fuckin’ door.” Ellie grumbled from behind you, still using your body as a shield. “Or hits a tree—”

“Ellie, I will tie you to a tree and leave you out here. I said don’t bring it up.”

“C’mon, you and that tree have a pure love relationship now.”

“M’gonna tell Joel about what you did with that girl behind his house if you don’t shut your mouth right now.” You warned, turning to look at her.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would, now shut the hell up.”

Stalking up the steps quietly, you keep your hold on Ellie tight when she stumbles up one of the steps and Jesse was the one who had to place his hand over her mouth this time when she went to yelp. “Do not get us caught, Ellie, I’ll never forgive you.”

From here, you could see Mandy in the kitchen, filling her glass up with whatever she chose to drink tonight, taking a sip as she leant against the counter and her shoulders sagged. That sudden loud banging had you all flinching in your spots and Mandy straightened herself up. “Quit it! You do that all the fuckin time, it’s driving me nuts!”

“She’s already nuts,” Ellie’s voice muffled behind Jesse’s hand.

“Should have killed you when I had the damn chance, but no! Everyone gives too much of a shit about you!”

Carefully, without dropping Ellie or causing Jesse to fall over, your hand lightly grips onto the door handle, squeezing your eyes shut tightly as you turn it just enough to hear a soft click. “Let’s go.” You whispered, removing your hold reluctantly and stood up.

Pushing the door open wildly, Mandy stumbled back, almost falling over the table when You, Ellie and Jesse stormed in through her front door. “Y/N?”

“Where the fuck is she!?” You’re suddenly in her face in a flash and fists balled up by your sides.

“What happened to not throwing ourselves at her and attacking her?” Ellie grumbled quietly from beside Jesse under her breath.

“I don’t— I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mandy stammered, eyes wide and glossy.

“Oh, you don’t?” You laughed sarcastically and shook your head. “You know exactly what m’fucking talking about.”

“I really don’t—”

“You can drop the innocent act, you insane little bitch.” Ellie seethed from beside you.

“Y/N, I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mandy sobbed, backed into a corner and not knowing an escape route.

Her breath hitched and she gasped when you’re suddenly gripping her face between your hands tightly; looking down at her angrily. Angrier than she’s ever seen before. “No? Then fuck what fuck is this?”

The sheet of paper hits her square in the chest, and Mandy scrambles to catch it, her shaky hands fumble to open it, and as her eyes catch onto what’s on the page, you finally see the way her jaw clenches and her face relaxes. “She never deserved you,” She scoffed, finally letting her guard down. “That stupid little bitch deserved everything that happened.”

“The fuck did you say?”

“She had it coming. If she didn’t keep taking you away from me, telling you to ignore me, blowing off our dates—”

“We went on one date!”

“A date she kept telling you to miss, always listening to her, doing what she tells you, with her out of the way I could have you to myself.” She grinned.

Leaning closer to her, you laughed in her face. “You still have nothing,” You murmured with a grimace. “This makes me hate you more.”

“No you don’t, you don’t hate me.” Mandy shook her head and plastered on a smile. “No,”

“Are you fucking stupid?” Ellie blinked, eyes going between you and then Mandy. “You’re fucking crazy, obsessive, who would love that?”

“Dina loved you, didn’t she, Ellie, takes one obsessive bitch to know another?”

“Hey,” Jesse warned, stepping in front of Ellie. “Keep her name out of your mouth.”

“Ah yes, Jesse, the other one. How does it feel knowing she loved you both yet still broke up with you when she had her fill?”

“Shut the fuck up,”

“Where is Abby?” You glared and gripped her face harder. “Tell me where she is!”

“She’s gone! She was never here, I took care of her for us!”

“There is no us!”

The fact she’s not getting it makes you more angry, angrier than when you found out Abby went missing. “But, I did this for you? Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you see I do everything for you?”

“I didn’t ask you to take my best friend away from me! I’m asking you to give her back to me!”

“She’s not here! Why would she be here?!”

“Do not let her move,” You told them as you slowly took a couple of steps away from her. “If either of you let her walk out that damn door, m’shooting you both.” With the stare you were giving them, they both knew you weren’t kidding. You were scary when you were angry, that’s not a secret.

Wandering into the living room, the same one you ate fucking dinner in, you halted in your steps with your arms folded over your chest. You weren’t sure what you were looking for, but as you glanced around the room, you couldn’t exactly find anything out of the ordinary, or even remotely suspicious. Maybe you had gotten it wrong? You were so sleep deprived that anyone could have written the note, Mandy can’t be the only one to write hearts next to her name, right?

You were about to give up on this crazy plan; the crazy plan of yelling and screaming at Mandy until she told you what you wanted to hear, when the faintest scraping sound had caught your attention. It wasn’t loud, but it was loud enough that you could hear it from where you were standing. Your eyebrows furrow and your body turns just slightly, head pointing in the direction of the cabinet opposite the bookshelf. “What’s that noise?” You asked to no one in particular.

“What noise?” Ellie quipped, cautiously keeping her eyes on Mandy, who was still slumped against the counter, and occasionally over to you where you stood. “I don’t hear anything—”

There it was again, the slight scraping sound, but only this time it’s a little louder.

Before you could take another step towards the cabinet, Mandy was suddenly moving around and pushing herself in front of you, but you weren’t focused on her face, no, you were more focused on the gun pointed at your fuckin’ face. “I can’t let you go through there,” She chuckled and rolled her eyes. “If you just stopped looking, stopped asking people, begging people for help, then this wouldn’t be happening. I did this for us, for you, why can’t you see that?”

“You took her from me, from us, why would I love you for that?” You scoffed, stepped a little closer. “If you’re gonna shoot me because I want to find her, then don’t be a goddamn pussy and shoot me.”

“S…Shoot you?” Mandy stammered, quickly shaking her head. “No! No, I don’t want to shoot you, I love you!”

“Y/N,” Ellie warned, trying to figure out a way to help you, get you away from her. “Y/N.”

“Let me have her, that’s all I want, please just— I need Abby, please” You begged, eyes fluttering closed as you felt the cool metal on your skin. “I just want my Abby back.”

“There’s no Abby left to bring back.”

“I really hate when people lie to me,” You whispered so quietly that she almost didn’t catch it. “Liars are one of the worst things in the world, stop trying to piss me off even more.”

You’re not sure what happens, one second you’re all standing there, and the next Ellie’s jumping at her, putting herself on the line to simply help you. “Ellie!” You growled, watching her practically pushing Mandy onto the floor, the gun still safely in her hands.

“Now is really not the time to question what m’doing. Go get her!”

Quickly, you manage to rush around the commotion, and slip back into the kitchen; keys, surely she keeps keys around here somewhere right? The kitchen is cold, plates in the sink that haven’t been touched in weeks, and your mind starts to wonder again as you look around. Could Abby really be here? Locked away without any sunlight? What if she was here but it’s too late?

Pulling open one of the drawers, you let out a sigh of relief once you spot a set of keys, way too many now that you look at it. Who needs that many if they don’t have secrets they’d rather stay locked away? Snatching them up and slamming the drawer shut again, you stumble your way out of the kitchen.

Jesse’s already pushing the cabinet away, a metal door hiding and tucked away perfectly behind it, when you also happen to glance over to see Ellie was standing over Mandy as you walked back into the living room, the gun now in her hands. “Go, I can look after Ellie, make sure nothing happens.” He groaned, slumping against the wooden cabinet.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, go!”

With trembling hands, one by one, you slot the keys into the lock; cursing and muttering under your breath when certain ones don’t unlock it. By the 7th key, the lock falls and you suck in a deep breath. Anything could be waiting for you on the other side of that door. Your life is already on the line, what’s one more to the list? So with a final sigh, and groan, you pull down the handle and pull the door open. The loud screeching of metal rings through your ears and sends a shiver down your spine.

The coldness washes over you quickly as you look down at the steps leaning into the basement once the doors open. You glance over at Ellie, Mandy’s still kicking at her legs, trying to get up and you send your friend a reassuring smile before making your way down into the dark and eerie room.

There’s no windows, you notice that quite quickly first, they’re all boarded up. No one would hear you if this entire plan goes to shit, Mandy somehow locking you up in here. Not a single living soul outside of this house would be able to hear your screams and cries for help. Not even the animals or insects living right beside it.

Tucking the keys in your back pocket, you step off the last step and release yet another sigh. It’s colder down here than it was opening the door, you think to yourself. To your left there’s a table with an endless supply of books, weird. Moving towards them with caution, you’re quick to pick up on all the torn up papers, the pens scattered along it. Picking up one of the notes, you’re in no luck when you find there’s nothing on there, yet another mystery in your endless supply of wonder.

To your right there’s another small room. You look at it for longer than you like, wondering who would need two rooms in one, until the gentle scraping catches your attention again as you went to turn around. It sounded like chalk on a chalk board, that’s the best way you could describe such a sound, maybe it wasn’t exactly lose to what you can imagine, but it’s the best you got.

As you got closer, you noticed the smaller padlock on the door, keeping whatever’s hidden, hidden.

Pulling the keys out of your pocket, you’re shaking even more when you look through them to find a key much smaller than the other ones, one that’s dainty and could hide anywhere if it tried harder enough.

The lock drops and you start to notice your hands haven’t stopped shaking, but now it’s starting to get uncomfortable, and uncontrollable for you to deal with. Sliding the lock, you press your forehead against the door and take a deep breath. Was this how it ends? Was this going to lead you into yet another deadend? Was Abby really gone and you were going to be stuck down here with some crazy psycho?

“Let go of me!” You heard Mandy scream from above you. Ellie’s words being screamed angrily right back at her.

With a final sigh, you pull the handle down and pull the door open.

If Abby’s not here, and this is just me falling into a trap, let everyone know I tried.

It’s dark. You can’t see anything. Turning your head, you notice a small light switch just beside the door, covered in mould and dirt, probably not the best idea to put your hands all in it, but you do it. You flick the switch and the light loominates the room and that’s when you notice it. You finally see it.

The figure curled up in the corner of the room, holding themselves until whatever nightmare they’re able to get out of. Taking a singular step into the room, you crouch slowly, ignoring the throbbing pain in your hand as you reach it out and gently touch their shoulder. “M’not gonna hurt you,” You reassured just before they flinch at your touch with a pained whimper head whipping around and tired blue eyes meet yours.

The sight causes your breath to hitch and heart to thump loudly in your chest.

“Abby?”

Jerry, who was smiling and cooking something for dinner as the music on the radio played quietly, almost fell to his knees the second the door opened to reveal you, Ellie, Jesse and Abby.

“My girl?” He whispered, not wanting to be loud to the point it might scare her. “Abby,” He breathed out when blue eyes met him. “Oh, baby.”

Guiding her towards the table carefully, you gently helped her sit down, but not before her hand tightens around your arm when you went to walk away. “M’just gonna run you a bath, you’re cold and you need to be warm, I’ll be right back, okay?”

Abby simply nodded slowly. Almost like she wasn’t even there.

“Honey, I can make you something else to eat? You don’t have to eat this but,” Jerry trailed off, watching the way Abby’s simply still looking in the spot you once were, yearning for you to come back already. “At least drink something for me?” He frowned, pulling his hand back quickly at the sight of Abby flinching and pulling her hand away when his goes to touch hers. “I won’t hurt you, baby girl. I’d never hurt you.”

You come back no later than 15 minutes. To her that’s still too long.

Abby didn’t move an inch or speak once the entire time you left to run her a bath. She was still sitting silently on the chair, not touching the food her Dad had plated for her, and left the glass of water in Its original spot. “Abby?”

Her head turned slightly, the most movement she’s done since she got home, and looked right at you. Her eyes looked dull, emotionless but stood up slowly when you held your hand out for her. Taking your hand, Abby doesn’t look back or spare a glance to anyone in the room as she leaves. It’s quiet, too quiet but no on can blame her, she’s been in a room for god knows how long, they understand that this is going to take some time to adjust.

By the time you made it into her bedroom, you’re quick to scoop up the fresh clothes in your free hand, the other still holding onto hers tightly as you guide her into the bathroom. The same bathroom that there’s a warm bath ready for her.

Placing the clean folded clothes on the toilet, you looked over at Abby, who still has yet to talk, was facing away from you, looking at the water. “There’s clean clothes here, if you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask, okay?” You smiled. “I’ll give you some privacy, I’ll just be in your room— Abby?” Her hand reaches out for yours, grabbing you tightly and keeping you there when you turn around to leave. “Hey,”

“S..Stay,” Her voice cracked, but kept her grip firm. “S..Stay, please?”

“Okay, of course, m’not going anywhere,” You promised and cautiously stepped closer to her. “Let’s take this off, yeah? You’re probably not warm enough.” As you went to unzip the hoodie she was wearing, her hand stopped you again. “Sorry, habit,”

“It’s n..not the same,” A sob slipped out and she shook her head. “Not the same,”

“What’s not the same?”

“If I take it off, you’re g..going to find it disgusting,”

“I could never think that of you, Abs”

After a few minutes, Abby nodded reluctantly and let you unzip the jacket fully. It only took a few seconds for you to stop in your tracks and understand what she meant once the jacket was off and she was once again facing away from you. “Abby,” You gasped.

You remember the times you would spend laying on her bed, with her snuggled in your chest, and threading your fingers through her hair, braiding it, playing with you. It was all gone in an instant. Gone just like she had once been. This Abby was left fragile, so thin, pale and terrified. “I..I’m disgusting,”

Walking around her until you were face to face, you held back a frown and gently cupped her face between your hands, your heart shattering into pieces at her flinch. “Won’t hurt you,” You whispered, wiped away the tears that fell and kissed her cheek. “You’re here with me, you’re safe, and I’ll never hurt you,” Slowly, you brushed your finger across her cheek, and smiled when she carefully leaned into your touch. “You’re beautiful, you’ve always been beautiful.”

Abby doesn’t believe you, you can tell by the way she shakes her head, cries harder and holds onto your arms tightly. “M’scared, m’so scared.”

“I know, Love, I know, but I won’t let anyone hurt you again, I promise, I promise I won’t.”

By the time Abby managed to get into the bath, with the help from you, she cried at every touch, rubbing her eyes harshly each time you rubbed the shampoo into her hair, mumbled about being sorry that she couldn’t stop squirming and with every reassurance from you that it was okay, it made her chest heave and cries louder. You didn’t ask her what happened, you know that when she was ready to talk about it, you would be there to listen. Guide and help her when needed.

Rinsing the final suds of shampoo from her hair, or what Mandy left of it, you smiled softly when her eyes fluttered open and found you. “Hi,” You pressed your forehead against hers and brushed your thumb over the side of her neck slowly. “You’re getting warmer.” You murmured. “We’re almost done.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, Love.”

Abby was clad in some of your old clothes, curled up in your side on her bed 15 minutes later. Her hand gripped the back of your jumper tightly, face buried deeply in your chest as you drew random patterns along her skin beneath your clothes. “M’glad you’re here,” You whispered against her forehead. “I never stopped looking for you, I hope you know that. You can tell me what happened when you’re ready, m’never gonna rush you to talk about it, but know that we’re here for you, and we just want to keep you safe. We’re ready to talk when you’re ready.”

All Abby could do was nod.

The door squeaked and opened to reveal Ellie, clothes dirty and hair slightly ruffled, as she stepped into the room with a fresh plate of food in one hand, and a drink in the other. “Hey, Abs.” She smiled, placing both on the nightstand before sliding onto the bed beside her. “I know you might not be hungry but, I brought you some food, Jerry practically rushed me to bring it to you.”

Abby curled more into you and buried her face in your chest with a smile tugging at her lips. “How is she?”

“What did you do?” You asked, ignoring her question and noticing the red stains on her shirt instead.

“I took care of it, she won’t hurt Abby or anyone else again.” Ellies eyes didn’t leave Abby as she spoke. “Stop, I took care of it, like we promised. We keep each other safe.” She sighed once she noticed your look. “Abby?”

“Mhm?”

“Can I cuddle you?”

Turning her head slowly, Abby looks up at Ellie for a couple of seconds before nodding. Lying down on the bed further, the Brunette carefully places her arm over Abby’s waist and cuddles up to her back, while Abby places her head against your chest again. “M’sorry it took so long,” She mumbled into Abby’s back. “M’so sorry.” She kissed her head and held her tighter.

Leaning your head down, you pressed your lips against Abby’s forehead, stroked her arm comfortingly and smiled when she held onto you a little tighter. “You can sleep now, we’ll always keep you safe, Baby.”

One secret revealed, another buried and hidden.

231 notes · View notes

mischievousmoony · 1 day ago

Text

𝚍𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚣𝚎𝚛𝚘

⟢ frat boy!james potter x fem!reader ⟢ a guy makes unwanted advances on you at a frat party, and the president comes to your aid ⊹ 3.0k ⟢ warnings/tags: alcohol, unwanted advances + touching and sexist comments from another character, james gets aggressive confronting said character, american!james hehehe (not that it's explicitly stated)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

By your third visit to the crowded, beer-scented kitchen, your features have set into a deep scowl. You groan, slumping against the wall—only to immediately push yourself off, unwilling to let the exposed skin of your back come into contact with any part of the frat house you're in. Was the wall sticky, or have you started sweating from the heat of all the drunk bodies around you? Either option makes you cringe.

Tonight was supposed to be fun. Frat parties weren’t exactly your ideal night out, but your best friend had dragged you to this one with the promise of a fun time. But your night has quickly turned into a wild goose chase after she disappeared with some guy.

"Are you okay?" a voice calls from your left, barely audible over the music that's starting to make your head pound. You realize that you had started pinching the bridge of your nose. When you lower your hand and turn your head, you find a pair of kind eyes staring down at you.

He introduces himself as Todd after you explain that you've been looking for your friend for half an hour to no avail. With a sympathetic smile, he offers to help, which you gratefully accept. Anything to find your friend and put this dreadful night to an end.

"Are you, like, one of the brothers?" you ask, noticing the letters on Todd's cap as you follow him through the house, but it's a little too dark to make them out. Not to mention, you don't really remember which fraternity your friend even brought you to tonight.

"Nah," Todd shouts over his shoulder. "Not here." He doesn't provide any more information than that as he changes the subject, suggesting the two of you search the backyard.

"I thought the yard was off limits,” you shout as you speed walk to catch up with him. He’s walking so fast that you barely have time to consider why he would think your friend would be outside.

Stepping into the cold, he explains, "Apparently their neighbors complained about the noise last weekend, so they're trying to keep the party inside. But a couple of quiet people shouldn't be an issue. It's nice to be away from all the noise, eh?"

You shudder when the night air hits you, hugging your arms around yourself tightly and attempting to smooth away the goosebumps already prickling on your skin.

"Maybe if it wasn't freezing."

You look around at the back yard, finding it completely empty except for a thin layer of fallen leaves and scattered beer bottles hidden in the uncut grass. Todd is leading you straight across the lawn, farther away from the house and any source of light. You’re starting to get a weird feeling about this—and Todd—so you slow to a stop while he continues to head deeper into the darkness.

"Hey, I don't think my friend is gonna be out here. I'm gonna keep looking inside–"

"What's the rush?" Todd's demeanor changes when he notices you’re falling behind. He quickly closes the distance between the two of you again in two strides.

You release a dry laugh, realizing that you've been too trusting, and your tone turns serious. "I should really find my friend."

"You said she was with a guy, right? C'mon just let her have her fun." Todd drops his voice an octave, trying to sound seductive, but it comes across embarrassingly forced. "Maybe we can have some fun too."

When he reaches to touch the side of your face, your mood starts to change from a little let down and slightly annoyed to seriously pissed off.

"Don't," you say coldly, jerking your head away from his touch.

"Aw, c'mon," he continues to try to coax you, still somehow thinking he has a chance at convincing you. When his fingers graze your sides, you shout at him to keep his hands off, but instead, he slides them to your waist, holding you firmly.

"Let go!" you demand, planting you hands firmly on his shoulders and pushing. He chuckles at your feeble attempts, making you angrier, so you switch tactics. You wrap your hands around his wrists and pry his hands off, applying a pressure to the inside of his wrists that makes him release you with a hiss.

There's an angry voice in the distance shouting "Hey!" presumably at the two of you. You hear the steady sound of footsteps growing louder—one of the brothers probably coming to yell at you for sneaking into their backyard. You're a little too busy to care as you stomp away from Todd.

Todd doesn’t seem to notice the newcomer either. Too absorbed in the sting of your rejection, he starts getting angry too.

"Don't be such a prude," he snaps. He catches your wrist and pulls you back to him with a swift tug, spinning you around to face him. You draw your free arm back, using the extra momentum from the spin to your advantage as you punch him squarely in the jaw.

The punch throws him off balance, sending him stumbling back. His foot catches on an empty beer bottle, twisting his ankle as he loses his footing and crashes onto the grass with a heavy thud.

You stand above him, a little stunned at your actions. Todd is whining pathetically about the pain from the punch to his face, and the pain from the fall to his ass.

Someone jogs up beside you, and you can feel their gaze darting back and forth between you and Todd.

"Nice punch," he says, a little out of breath.

"Thanks," you reply flatly, only now starting to process that you—with the help of a beer bottle—sent this man tumbling to the ground.

"Alright," the mystery man says like he's about to get to work. He steps into your line of sight, looming over Todd for a moment.

He has a mop of dark curls spilling out from under a red baseball cap sitting backwards on his head. The cap matches his letterman-style jacket, which clings to his broad frame, drawing attention to his muscular body. Under different circumstances, this is a view you’d appreciate.

He bends down and grabs Todd by the collar of his shirt, roughly pulling him to his feet. Even with both of them standing, he still towers over him.

"Hey, man. What's up?" he asks Todd, his casual words contrasting with his abrasive tone.

"That slut just punched me!" Todd shrieks.

You roll your eyes. How pathetic.

He tightens his grip on Todd's shirt collar, using it to shake him roughly. "Watch your fucking mouth or I'll be the next," he threatens, and Todd goes quiet.

Your eyes widen at his sudden sharpness. Almost involuntary, you shift your position, angling yourself to get a clear look at the boy’s face. Black rimmed glasses sit lazily on the bridge of his nose, under his furrowed brow as he glares daggers at Todd. His eyes are big and brown, almost seeming out of place against the hard scowl carved into his features.

"Here's what's gonna happen," he continues. "First, you’re blacklisted. You’re never stepping foot in my house again. And what's this?"

He plucks Todd's hat off his head, inspecting the letters with a scoff before tossing it to the ground. "Of course. I'm sure nationals will be happy to hear about how you've conducted yourself tonight."

Todd's eye twitches at the threat. "Let's not pretend I was doing anything she didn’t want. Look at the way she’s dressed—flaunting herself, just begging for attention."

"What did you just say?" he seethes.

"James, c'mon," Todd says, revealing the name of the taller boy. He speaks with a nonchalance that makes James' nostrils flare, angered by his dismissiveness of the situation.

You begin to wonder how they know each other when James sets him straight.

"Who the hell do you think you're talking to? My friends call me James, you don't get to call me shit. The fuck do you think this is, man? I catch you in my backyard putting your hands on a girl who clearly doesn't want anything to do with you and you think you can talk to me like we're friends? I don't even know who the hell you are."

Your eyes must be bulging out of your head by now. It feels like you’ve been dropped into a scene from a movie—an exposé on the dark side of greek life, or maybe the mafia. Not knowing much about either, it’s hard to say, but the backward hats and pounding music from the house quickly remind you of where you are.

James lowers his voice, his tone dipping into something almost menacing. "But I’ll find out from your brothers, and when I do, you’re finished here. Done. Now come on."

Todd flinches as one of James' hands clasps over the back of his neck with a sharp smack. There were some other guys you hadn't noticed before back near the house, to whom James hands Todd over.

Once James notices that you're still standing in the middle of the yard, he jogs back over. On his way, he takes off his hat, running his fingers through his hair to loosen his curls.

"Hey," he says in a soft voice, vastly different from the one he used on Todd. "Are you okay?"

The change in his demeanor catches you off guard. You exhale while you collect your thoughts, a steamy white cloud filling the space as your warm breath meets cool air.

"That was intense," you say. You don’t mean to dodge his question, but he did just switch from mafia boss levels of threatening to sunshine and rainbows.

James breathes out a laugh. "Sorry about that. Gotta be a hardass with some of these dicks, especially ones like that. Part of the job."

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued, wondering what job he's talking about.

James reads your expression, and stands up a little straighter as he introduces himself. "President James, at your service." With an exaggerated wink, he tugs at the edge of his jacket, pulling it taut to show off the letters sewn over his chest.

You nod in understanding. "Well, thank you for stepping in, Mr. President," you say, a slight tease coloring your tone.

A smile like sunshine overtakes his lips. "No need to thank me, really. Anyway, you handled it pretty well before I got here. That was some punch—is your hand alright?"

You had forgotten about that. Splaying your fingers out in front of you, you inspect your knuckles. "Mhm. Fine. I don't think I can feel my limbs anyway." You wrap your arms back around yourself, the cold become almost unbearable in your tank top.

"Shit, yeah, it's cold out here, isn't it?" James holds his hat between his teeth, freeing his hands as he strips off his jacket. Your eyes linger on his toned arms for a moment too long, and suddenly his hat has made its way back onto his head and he's holding his jacket out for you.

"May I?" he asks.

As much as you want to say no, you truly are freezing, so you let yourself be draped in his warmth and the scent of his cologne. The fabric has an unexpected weight to it, almost offering a comfort similar to an embrace.

James rubs his hands up and down over newly blanketed arms to encourage some warmth into them. James studies your face with softened eyes, his tone taking on a more serious note.

"Hey, listen... I'm really sorry that happened to you. Everything he said, and did–"

"It's alright," you interrupt.

"It's not. That shouldn't be happening. Not at my house—not anywhere. I'm really sorry you had to deal with that creep. And if you wanted to take it to the school, I'd be more than willing to–"

"No, no. That's more trouble than he's worth."

James nods, respecting your decision. "For what it's worth, I'm gonna make sure he won't be allowed in any of the parties around here anymore. I doubt I can get him completely blackballed, but I'll do what I can."

You offer James a small smile in response. You're glad to hear that, really, but now that Todd's gone and that's all over, your main concern is finding your friend and getting the hell out of here.

"Why don't you let me give you a ride home?" he offers, almost like he can read your mind. His kind, brown eyes almost make you want to say yes. But after the night you've had, you owe it to yourself to be a little less trusting.

"I don't know." You bite the inside of your cheek while you decide if you should disclose your current dilemma. James does seem eager to help. Deciding to tell him, you say, "I was looking for my friend."

James is quick to offer his assistance. "Who's your friend? Maybe I can help."

You tell him your friends name and recount what she was doing when you saw her last. "She ran off with this guy. Long black hair, leather jacket, I think I heard his name but it was something... unique."

James sucks in a breath through his teeth. "Sounds like Sirius."

"Sirius, yes! That was his name." You're momentarily excited, thinking that James could actually help, but the look on his face squashes the feeling promptly.

"Yeah, uh," James scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, "Sirius left with a girl like an hour ago. About yay high," he holds his hand out to your friend's height. "Tan. Brown hair."

You sigh. Some best friend you have. Here you are, searching for her endlessly, and she's ditched you at the party she brought you to.

"She was your ride, I’m guessing?" The corner of James' lip quirks up in a sorry half-smile as you nod. "It really is no trouble for me to drive you home."

You tap your foot on the ground anxiously. You're really wanting to just accept his offer. He seems nice enough, but there's still a little voice in the back of your mind telling you to be careful.

"I just... I don't really know you."

"Understandable," James starts. "But... you kinda do. I'm pretty sure we have chem together."

"I don't think so." You think you’d remember a muscly, likely rambunctious, frat boy in your boring chem class.

"Okay, I was playing it cool,” James’ teeth graze his lower lip in a bashful manner. “I know we have Chem together—with Professor Brown? Tuesdays and Thursdays. You sit in the front row. Y/N, right?" James looks a little sheepish as he recalls your name.

You nod slowly, really looking at James for the first time, trying to place him. Then it hits you—you do remember him. He sits a few seats down from you in chem, always rigorously taking notes and asking questions you wouldn’t have thought of (but are glad to have the answers to). Seeing him like this, though, is such a contrast to the smart guy from class that you didn’t even recognize him at first.

You feel a heat creep up the back of your neck. You’ve only ever spared him a few glances, but you’ve always thought the smart guy from chem was pretty cute.

"Oh. Oh, right. I–I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. You're James Potter." You try the name on your lips, realizing the name didn't click because you had only ever heard your professor call him by his last name.

"That's me," he grins. "And don't worry about it."

You give him a nod, a bit awkwardly. He seems like a good guy, but you’re still not sure if you want to get in his car. "Well, James, I should probably just call an Uber or something anyway. I don't know if you've been drinking or anything so..."

"Oh!" James holds up a finger, stuffing his other hand into his pocket and pulling out a black rectangle. You mistake it for one of those big, clunky box vapes and almost want to roll your eyes. But then, James surprises you by blowing into it instead of breathing in.

The device beeps, and he shows you the little digital screen, previously hidden behind his hand, that reads "0.00" over a glowing green background.

"Haven't had a drop," he confirms. "I haven't smoked or anything else, either. Not my thing."

"Why do you own a breathalyzer?" you ask, a little dumbfounded.

"So I can breathalyze people," he shrugs, fiddling with the device—tossing it a few inches up in the air and catching it.

You raise your eyebrows at him, not satisfied with his non-answer.

“Sorry,” James chuckles at himself. "Uh, I have a lot of people leaving my parties trying to tell me they're sober enough to drive. I got loads of these ‘cause they can't argue with the numbers... as much as they might try to."

"Where did you even get that?" you ask. You can't imagine there's a very big market for personal breathalyzers.

"You can get almost anything with Prime delivery!" he says it like he's proud as he tucks it back into his pocket. "Hey, you want one? I've got a drawer full back in the house." He points with his thumb over his shoulder.

You laugh, shaking your head at his offer. James laughs along with you, his lips curling into a boyish grin.

Well, if you’re going to put your trust in anyone else tonight it, it might as well be the smart boy from chem who takes safety seriously enough to own multiple breathalyzers.

You start walking towards the house. When you don’t hear a set of footsteps following behind, you call over your shoulder, "Come on."

James catches up quickly, happy to be invited to join you. "Where are we going?"

"To your car so you can give me a ride home."

From the corner of your eye, you watch his face break out into a wide grin. And from there on out, there's an extra pep in his step as he leads you to his car.

When you're safe and sound, back in the comfort of your own room, you flop onto your bed with a dreamy look on your face. You hug the jacket closer to your body, thankful for the excuse to talk to him in chem on Tuesday. Little did you know, he let you keep the jacket so that you'd have one.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

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remyunart · 3 days ago

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I went back to writing last year and almost went deaf, the curse is still alive lmao but the price we pay for writing fanfiction is nowhere near the satisfaction of having told the story of your hearts desire.

Anyone who uses chat gpt is a fucking coward that doesn't deserve fandom because the whole point was to create content for us by us.

People have been getting used to consuming more than they create and that makes is real easy to just ask an AI to write things for you, but the best most complex stories and character analysis I've ever read I my life came from ao3 and it's laughable to think an AI will be able to understand the nuance some characters have. I feel like this is one of the reasons I've seen so many shit takes on social media lately where characters get so watered down to a single defining trait that they lose all meaning. Character ai is still AI. it's still bad. There are role play accounts with real people and if it's the cringe stopping people from reaching out c.ai is just as "embarrassing" as asking your rp acc to flirt a little bit.

Generative AI is not only bad for those to create content but to the ones who consume it because it's so shallow with everything explicitly said that media literacy is actively declining. Not everything needs to be explained by the author, the curtains weren't just fucking blue and all chat gpt can give you is the hex color instead of the analysis that the author conveyed even if unconsciously.

no way ppl are using ai to write ao3. what happened to being a tortured writer. what happened to blood on the page. what happened to the ao3 curse. people used to get run over, have their houses burned down, break their entire spines and they still put in the work to finish a chapter. fuck you, using ai. y’all are weak

#i fucking hate ai #fuck ai #bring bad badly written fanfiction #I'd rather read the worst fic ever with a thousand mistakes than a grammatically correct ai shit

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d-emeter · 1 day ago

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Breakfast, lunch and dinner (or: cod characters and how they eat you out) — plus-size!fem!reader x cod characters

Includes: Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, König, Graves, Alejandro, Rudy, Valeria

Note: take this as my formal apology for being inactive for so long :') exam week had me hanging on by a thread and i'm also suddenly moving so. yay. expect some more action after like... this week i hope

John Price

Listen. Getting eaten out by Captain Price is not, in any way, meant for your pleasure. No, this is him disciplining you. It hardly even matters what for. Maybe you have been teasing him, sliding your hand up his thigh under the table, rubbing your ass against him while passing by him. Maybe you've been a brat all day, complaining and huffing and puffing about everything, barely listening to any of John's requests and/or demands. Either way, sit on his desk and spread your fucking legs, doll. He'll be edging you for what feels like hours, tongue moving so torturously slow that all coherent thought has seeped from your brain aside from how badly you want to cum. Too bad, bad girls don't deserve to finish this easily.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

With Simon, it's always a surprise what position you'll end up in. The only certainty you have is that it's definitely not what you'd expect, and sometimes you wish that for once he'd just lay you down and get busy. But alas, he'll have you kneeling with your face in the pillows, or bent over the back of the couch. Maybe he'll have you hanging off the edge of the bed so all the blood flows to your already overheating brain. You're clinging onto whatever you can get a hold on, mostly in pleasure, and sometimes in fear of falling when he has you up on his shoulders and leaned against the wall. Well, he doesn't exactly hear your complaining over your moans and whimpers, he argues, and he wouldn't dream of dropping you.

Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish

As with Price, this has little to do with your pleasure: it's all for his own benefit. Please, lass, he loves your cunt, and she loves him, doesn't she? Come on, let him have a taste. He could give two shits about where you are or how convenient it is— if he wants to lick your pussy, he's going to. He's down on his knees while you're desperately clinging onto the kitchen counter, or the shower wall, or the shelves of your pantry. Hell, you'd have to hope and pray a sales associate won't come by your changing room in fear of them hearing all of his moans. Oh, and you quickly find out you cannot wear a skirt around him, because it won't come down from your hips if he has any say in it.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

He's devastatingly methodical. He knows your body better than you do at this point, and he's not afraid to use this to his advantage. He can work you just right, but the worst part is that he will refuse to. Unless you kindly ask him for it, that is. Tsk, pretty girl, use your words. Let him know where you need him, what you need him to do. He's hovering close enough that you can feel his breath on your neglected clit, your cunt clenching around nothing in desperate search for friction of any kind, but he won't do anything until you tell him in excruciating detail what you want. And be aware, any time you stop talking, he's pulling away in a second.

König

Oh, König... Sweet, wet-rag-of-a-man loser that he is, will completely lose his mind any time you allow him near your pussy. He can practically feel his brain melting while he's drowning himself in your slick, and he looks like it too. His eyes have rolled back, face flushed and his eyebrows scrunched in pure, unadulterated pleasure. His body has turned to complete mush, his cock leaking against the sheets and hands clawing onto any part of your body he can reach (which, with his arms, is basically everywhere). Unintelligible mumbles made into your cunt, teetering the edge between praise and begging. He is a little inexperienced, Schatz, so you'll have to show him how you like it. Shove his face between your folds and ride his nose, and you'll have him moaning like a bitch in heat. When he finally comes back up for air you can tell you're not the only one that reached heaven just now.

Philip Graves

I'm going to speak my truth here, he does not strike me as the kind of man to give you oral all that much. I am SORRY, but it's true. He usually prefers to get you nice and ready for him with his fingers, or by having you ride his thigh, or simply from the absolute filth he spews into your ear while dry-humping. However, on the odd occasion that Phil does get down and dirty, he aims to make it special. It's strangely sentimental, actually. It'd be outside on a picnic blanket after his homecoming, or in your shared bed after your anniversary dinner. Anything that reminds him how much he loves you, and how much you mean to him, and he's going to show you with his tongue. There's reverence in every suck, praise in every lick and prayer in every word he murmers into your core. You're his goddess and he's just here to worship you, baby.

Alejandro Vargas

For Ale, it'd be a form of gratuity much in the same way it is for Graves, though the difference is that he'll use that as an excuse even for the most menial things. His belly nice and full after your homecooked dinner, grin on his face and asking when his dessert is being served. You've been so good to him, amor, welcoming him home with a smile and a kiss and a plate waiting for him, now let him thank you properly. You fixed the button on his shirt that had fallen off? Well, put it on and lay yourself down, time to lap at your cunt in thanks. It's gotten to a point where you're convinced he just decided his goal in life is to pull as many orgasms from you as possible. Not that you're complaining, of course.

Rodolfo 'Rudy' Parras

Eating you out is, in many ways, a means to an end for Rudy. He wants to make sure you're properly prepped and ready to take his cock, so it's almost instinctual for him to bury his face between your soft thighs for a while before inching himself into you. It's part of the routine, the way he thought sex was supposed to go. It's not until you explain to him that it can actually be the main event, and that you'd thoroughly enjoy it if he maybe put in a little more effort, that it dawns on him just how much he can actually do down there and how much time he's wasted not doing it. Now, tesoro, you may have shot yourself in the foot with that one, because he now can keep you pinned down for hours, just suckling away at your clit and fucking you on his tongue, dumb grin on his face after your fifth orgasm renders you basically comatose.

Valeria Garza

The only way Valeria will actually relax for once is with your pussy in her face. Seriously, you've tried everything else: lavender baths, deep tissue massages, even trying to get her to meditate. But no, the only time you actually see her shoulders lose all their tension is when she's between your folds. She's had such a long day, vida, come sit on her face. She's not even groping you the way she usually does during sex, hands instead playing idly with the fat of your thighs and ass while all her worries melt away. There are no thoughts running through her mind aside from how good you taste, how pretty you sound and how nice you feel under her hands.

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majikkulu · 2 days ago

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✮ ˖° ⸜ masterlist ꕤ ･

╭₊˚๑ i'm not a professional astrologer, so they may not resonate with everyone. take them with a grain of salt. consider the planets, degrees, etc! these are just my personal observations and opinions!

☁️₊˚੭

⋆⁺₊ planets in the first house or conjuncting your ascendant persona chart can totally transform and complicate the vibe you give off. it’s kinda like in the natal chart, but way more intricate. these planets or conjunctions can completely overpower or reshape how your rising energy plays out. the rising sign is like the canvas of a painting, and the planets placed within or near it are the brushstrokes and colors that bring the entire image to life, altering its mood and style.

⋆⁺₊ for example: i have capricorn rising, but with chiron conjuncting my ascendant. that makes me come across as wounded, insecure about my self-image, but also wise and compassionate because of the struggles i’ve been through. i get how it feels, so i can help others through it. self-confidence can be a real issue with this placement. then add neptune and uranus in the first house, and suddenly, i might look like a hard-to-read, dreamy mystery. neptune tends to soften the energy of the risign sign, so it makes my serious capricorn vibe a little more… fluid. i don’t always see myself the way others do, and that adds to the confusion. uranus, though, makes my capricorn rising unpredictable, way less steady than your average cap. it leaves me torn between capricorn’s need for stability and the freedom-loving pull of uranus.

⋆⁺₊ conjunctions hit harder. they’re more obvious, more in your face, while planets in the first house will still shift things, but in a softer way.

⋆⁺₊ if you have no planets or conjunctions in the first house, whatever sign sits there takes the lead. but don’t forget, other aspects to the ascendant can shake things up too!

✮ SUN IN THE 1ST you have a cosmic spotlight on you. if you’ve got this placement, consider yourself truly blessed. the sun is the dominant force, and with it in the 1st, you can't help but shine. this placement brings a natural radiance that makes you stand out wherever you go, even if you're not trying to. people are drawn to your energy and notice you right away. no matter what your ascendant is, the sun amplifies its traits, making them more obvious and pronounced. without this placement, you’d be more of a quiet observer, but with it, you become the full-on main character. the sun makes you hyper-aware of how you present yourself and how others see you. you're aware of your own personality, and even if you don't try, you naturally give off leadership vibes. with the sun boosting your rising sign, your traits become even more dominant. you’re less likely to hide who you are. your authentic self just radiates out, making you impossible to ignore.

✮ MOON IN THE 1ST you’re likely someone who wears their heart on their sleeve. your emotions are easily read by others, and you come across as emotionally open and approachable. people can sense your genuine, heartfelt energy right away. this placement makes you naturally vulnerable, which can make others feel seen and understood by you. because the moon is a deeply sensitive planet, you're attuned to the moods and energy of those around you, often picking up on subtle shifts in atmosphere. your mood can influence your behavior, making you appear adaptable and fluid. one moment you might seem more cheerful, the next more introspective—it all depends on the emotional climate around you. this also extends to your appearance, which might change based on how you're feeling. you likely feel most comfortable when you're nurturing or comforting others, and this side of you may be the most visible. intuitively, you might protect your emotional space or express your feelings in a way that makes you seem instinctive and open. while the sun helps express your ascendant traits confidently and boldly, the moon invites you to express your inner world more openly. your emotional responses to situations are often immediate, and you might rely heavily on gut feelings and intuition to guide your actions. for some, the moon can bring out a more private side, making you appear sensitive or withdrawn, and people may see you as someone who keeps their deeper emotions hidden.

✮ MERCURY IN THE 1ST you’re immediately seen as sharp, witty, and quick with your words. expressing yourself comes effortlessly, and you know exactly how to make your point land. people are drawn to engage with you because you’re mentally active and always ready to process information and come up with solutions on the fly. this placement gives you a youthful, curious vibe—you’re the kind of person who loves to learn and dive into debates or intellectual discussions. there’s a playful, talkative quality to you that makes you approachable and easy to talk to. mercury in the 1st also makes you more flexible, adjusting your communication style to fit the situation. you probably don’t like being bored and are constantly seeking mental stimulation. your movements, gestures, and even the way you stand or walk often reflect your thoughts and mental energy—there’s a quickness to you. you might have a rapid speech pattern, talking quickly or excitedly as your thoughts race ahead. this placement makes you come across as highly expressive, and mercury enhances whatever sign you have, making it more adaptable and dynamic. people will first notice you through the way you talk, as mercury tends to intellectualize everything it touches, giving your outward persona a more articulate, thought-driven quality.

✮ VENUS IN THE 1ST your entire persona is wrapped in the essence of venusian charm. even if the sign on your ascendant is a bit more intense or harsh, venus smooths it out, making you more approachable and naturally magnetic. this placement infuses you with an effortless attractiveness, making it easier for people to like you. whether you want to or not, you carry a flirtatious, almost romantic energy that draws others in. venus makes everything you do—how you speak, how you dress, how you carry yourself—feel beautiful and captivating. no matter what your ascendant sign is in your chart, you’ll always come across as charming and likable. this placement enhances your natural traits, making you more aesthetically pleasing and easy to be around. you likely have a sense of style and elegance that shines through effortlessly, and you probably express your artistic side without even trying. venus gives you a warm, inviting aura that people find hard to resist.

✮ MARS IN THE 1ST your rising sign gets a major energy boost. if your rising sign is usually more laid-back or passive, mars will push it into a more dynamic, fast-paced mode. you’ll come across as bold, determined, and not afraid to go after what you want. this placement gives you confidence that can sometimes border on aggression or impatience. unlike venus, which is more subtle and charming, mars in the 1st is in-your-face. direct, forceful, and unapologetically assertive. even if your rising sign tends to be reserved or private, mars makes you more blunt and outspoken. you’re the type to take initiative, preferring to make things happen rather than waiting for them to come to you. with mars in the 1st, you’re not one to back down easily. you hate delays and indecision. your body language, speech, and movements tend to be sharp, quick, and full of energy. you might attract competition or conflict, but that doesn’t faze you. your presence is commanding, and you radiate an intense, magnetic energy. mars makes you more independent and tough, as it thrives on strength and hates being seen as weak. others are likely to see you as dominant, fiery, and undeniably attractive. you speak your mind, say exactly what you mean, and do what you want. whatever your rising sign is, mars amps it up with boldness and power, making your presence undeniably strong and full of life.

✮ JUPITER IN THE 1ST it supercharges your rising sign, expanding it and filling you with an infectious, radiant energy. it brings a positive, uplifting vibe that makes your personality and appearance shine. no matter what your rising sign is, jupiter infuses it with an adventurous, optimistic spirit. this placement is often considered lucky, as jupiter amplifies the traits of your ascendant, making them even more prominent and, in turn, attracting more opportunities your way. people are drawn to your warmth, generosity, and natural confidence, seeing you in a positive light and trusting you. even when faced with challenges, you seem to always land on your feet. with jupiter in the 1st, you come across as someone who thinks big, often exuding an aura of wisdom or having a deep, almost philosophical outlook. if your rising sign tends to be more reserved, jupiter makes you more open-hearted and expansive. you rarely think small and might have a sense of destiny or purpose, believing that great things are possible. however, with jupiter’s expansive nature, there's also a tendency to overdo things—whether it’s speaking, eating, spending, or taking risks. sometimes, your confidence can border on overconfidence, and there’s a risk of exaggeration or arrogance.

✮ SATURN IN THE 1ST is the complete opposite of jupiter. where jupiter brings expansion and a carefree energy, saturn brings structure and discipline. this placement makes you more composed, reliable, and reserved. you come across as serious, with a strong, but often intimidating presence. at first, people may find you distant, wise, or even unapproachable until they get to know you. unlike sun or jupiter, which express personality boldly and openly, saturn refines and controls how you show up. you tend to hold back, carefully considering what you say and how you present yourself. your demeanor is serious, professional, and mature—there’s a sense of caution in the way you engage with others. saturn in the 1st doesn’t offer natural luck like jupiter; instead, it pushes you to work hard for everything you achieve. you don’t rush into things and prefer to observe before acting. others may feel they need to prove themselves to you before you open up, and whether intentional or not, you project an authoritative, no-nonsense vibe. while this gives you a sense of strength, saturn can also create self-imposed limitations and fears, especially around expressing your true self.

✮ URANUS IN THE 1ST this placement makes your rising sign constantly evolve, giving you a vibe that’s rebellious and unpredictable. you express your ascendant traits in ways that are bold, electrifying, and often out of the ordinary. while it might feel completely normal to you, to others, it’s always a surprise. your presence is magnetic and full of sudden, unexpected shifts, making you someone people can never fully predict. whether it’s through fashion, beliefs, or changes in personality, you constantly reinvent yourself, and at different points in your life, you might appear completely different. you naturally challenge authority, disrupt traditions, and question outdated norms simply by being yourself. this can bring competition and unnecessary tension, with some people disliking you for no apparent reason. your energy is captivating and full of surprises, and your life often feels like a series of twists and turns. while it’s exciting, it can also feel chaotic or offbeat with the expectations of society. this placement gives you an eccentric, unique presence, often bringing a hot-and-cold energy that keeps people on their toes.

✮ NEPTUNE IN THE 1ST your rising sign takes on a dreamy, mysterious quality. it softens the traits of your ascendant, creating an ethereal and fluid vibe that can make you seem like you're from another world. there's a sense of transcendence about you—like you're part of this world but also not fully grounded in it. people might find you elusive and hard to pin down, as your energy is gentle and often difficult to read. you may be seen as too sensitive or easily affected by the world around you. neptune brings a sense of idealization, both of yourself and others. sometimes you can project a perfection that isn’t fully accurate, which can lead to others feeling let down if they get too close or if things don't live up to the ideal you’ve created. this foggy influence means you may struggle with presenting your true self clearly, leading to confusion or contradictions in how others perceive you. ultimately, you come across as mysterious, with an air of wonder but also a subtle sense of ambiguity.

✮ PLUTO IN THE 1ST pluto amplifies everything about your rising sign, adding a deep intensity and transformative energy. there's a magnetic, almost hypnotic quality to your presence that others can't help but be drawn to. people may find themselves inexplicably attracted to you, and whether you're aware of it or not, you have a profound influence on those around you. your energy is compelling, and you leave a lasting impact the moment you enter someone's life. pluto in the 1st makes your self-expression ever-evolving, pushing you to constantly shed old identities and embrace transformation. you're unafraid to face uncomfortable truths about yourself, and you're aware of both your light and your shadow. through personal rebirths and self-discovery, pluto forces you to confront your deepest fears, and this gives you a resilience and depth that others can sense, even if they can't quite put their finger on it.

✮ NORTH NODE IN THE 1ST this placement encourages you to step into your most authentic self, embracing your individuality and destiny. it's about self-discovery and learning to express who you truly are, rather than conforming to others' expectations. with the North Node in the 1st, you're pushed to assert your personal identity with confidence and independence. you might feel a deep desire to understand who you really are and express yourself freely, with a strong need to project your true essence to the world. this placement calls for you to take charge of your life and make choices that are aligned with your personal truth. it often leads you to work on self-acceptance and assert your identity in ways that set you apart from others. your presence should feel authentic, as you are meant to stand out and live in a way that reflects your unique, true self.

✮ CHIRON IN THE 1ST your wound is closely tied to how you present yourself to the world. you may struggle with feelings of being incomplete or flawed, which could lead to self-doubt. this placement can make you feel misunderstood or disconnected from your identity. however, it also gives you a deep understanding of others' vulnerabilities, as you've likely experienced your own challenges in this area. chiron's influence can bring a lack of confidence and difficulty fully embracing your unique identity. there's often a tendency to hold back, as you might fear rejection or not fitting in. healing for you comes through helping others with their own struggles, as it allows you to work through your insecurities. issues related to body image or how you feel others perceive you could also be present with this placement.

#astrology #astro community #astronote #divination #astrology signs #astro notes #astro observations #astro placements #astroblr #astrology readings #birth chart #natal chart #persona chart #astrology observations #astrology community #astrology notes #astrology blog #zodiac signs

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shanastoryteller · 2 days ago

Note

Congrats on finishing See Something Say Something!! I checked the notification of the first AO3 email sent out and you initially planned on five chapters.

Would you say that the ending changed considerably since you started in October? Or has that stayed the same?

thank you!

it stayed the same lol. while my fics getting wildly out of control and becoming way longer than i anticipated is pretty common, i'm pretty much never changing overarching plot when this happens. the story that i become interested in telling is typically the story then i end up telling

almost every story can be made shorter or longer. it's less about what happens and more about how that information is conveyed. things that really tend to affect writing length are perspective and breathing room

the shortest fic i have on ao3 that's not part of a series is You Were (Not) Meant For Me (posted 11 years ago, jesus T_T). the premise is that claudia was a witch who intended trained stiles to be a witch and she arranged his marriage to laura hale, the future hale alpha. this is a traditional pairing as talia's husband was also a witch married to talia in service of the pact. except claudia died before she could train stiles or tell him about the engagement. stiles starts learning magic after scott is turned. derek falls for stiles and feels like he's betraying his sister by loving him, betraying stiles by not being the alpha he deserves and not telling him about the arrangement claudia made, and hates himself the entire time, but not enough to stop himself

that's a 100k fic easy

it's 1,696 words

it's extremely limited perspective (derek's) and it's made up only of limited snapshots of moments with very little context. there's no seeing what's happening, only told, which i think would quickly grow boring if it was longer and if the real point of the story wasn't derek's self hatred and how he fails to deal with it. that's the part of the story that isn't told, really - derek does think explicitly that he hates himself, but we're also seeing it in the way he talks and thinks about himself and the people around him

by contrast we have survival is a talent, which is obviously my longest fic. we're over 500k and we've got quite a bit to go

perspective doesn't just refer to character pov, but audience pov - are you being told a story, or are you experiencing the story? this is also tied into breathing room. there's no wrong way, i've done both and will do both, but one certainly requires more words than the other in my experience

siat is told only through draco and harry's perspective, but it's all happening in real time. the audience is being taken along for this story. the thing is that that things in real life don't all come tumbling one after another, not all questions have immediate answers. when depicting character growth and a plot unfurling, i think it's really important to include breathing room to give the audience time to feel that growth and change. i'm stricter about this with siat than anything else i've written, probably sometimes to its detriment. i want you and the characters to have time to feel the effects of emotional revelations and plot hints. i want you to have the time to question and wonder about things the same way the characters do

one time a friend criticized the good place for including the portion where they were alive again on earth because it wasn't as interesting as being in hell, but i disagree. we needed that breathing room both to live with the effects of character growth of going through hell and to have time for the effects of their actions on the plot to settle before they moved forward again. i stopped watching agents of shield because we weren't given enough breathing room - there was never a chance to see the characters not in crisis, the world was always ending, ect. the alchemyst book series has the first like 3 books taking place over a day and a half. i got tired of it after that. there's no breathing room

a story where i gave up on the concept of breathing room was build your wings on the way down. i liked that fic, but i wanted it finished, and to do it with i think optimal pacing would have made it twice as long as it was. so i said screw it, avalanche time, everything is happening all at once right now. there's very little breathing room there, which i think doesn't work too terribly in part because everything is so urgent and everyone is stressed so not being able to catch you breath sort of fits

See Something Say Something did not need to be 215k, although i'm not at all complaining. i feel very happy with how i told this story. but the basic premise - sam getting his powers early, getting involved in the large hunter world secretly from his family, and dean feeling misplaced and worried about how much sam needs/wants him - could have been told a hundred different ways and all would have pulled it off, so to speak

i considered doing the the entire fic from dean's pov (as a sam girl i love his pov because all he thinks about is sam and he's so insane about it) which would have effectively cut out basically the first five chapters. i thought exploring the slow realization of what's going on purely from dean's pov, with the audience having not insight would have been really interesting, just like what I did in dumb luck or good ghost with dean slowly figuring out that sam didn't die in the crash. another thing is the inclusion of all the side characters which i did to make the world feel rich and real, but we didn't need all these outsider povs to get the basic point across. very rarely is something vital being conveyed by an outsider pov, but it reinforced and adds to the main characters. i also initially didn't have wincest, which obviously added a ton of words. i loved exploring dean's self hatred and fear and sam's obliviousness, but bringing them to a place of ignorance to acceptance to happiness is a lot longer of a journey than just dealing with dean's propriety love as an unhinged co-dependent older brother. again, i'm sticking by all these choices, i made them because i thought it was the best way to the tell the story i was most interesting in telling, but my point is that you didn't need them to tell this particular story

it was also how i told the story. we spend a lot of time wallowing in character's emotions, especially dean's and sam's, but the others as well. part of this fic is convincing you that these two brothers should fuck, actually, and doing that effectively is going to take some time, especially at this point in their lives when things are pretty normal. comparatively, fucking your brother after starting the apocalypse is pretty small potatoes. i wanted you to understand these people, to feel what they were feeling, to not feel that it was inconceivable that jess would be willing to share her boyfriend with his brother, to buy all their relationships with each other in a way that isn't purely based on convenience

part of the reason i wrote dumb luck or good ghost before see something say something was that i felt i needed a firmer grasp on who the characters are before getting into who they were and who they could be - especially john, who i feel is exceptionally difficult to write without over excusing his actions or over villainizing them. the reason john doesn't get a single pov in see something say something is that while he's a motivating and underlying factor in much of the story, the story isn't about him. it's about the effect he has on those around him, and i didn't want to sully the pureness of that effect by introducing his internal dialogue, regardless of how persecutionary or absolving it would be. it's just not about him. it's how he responds to others and how they respond to him in turn

anyway! this is another example of something ending up longer than expected, but yeah. the plot of see something say something didn't change much from posting of the first chapter and my stories rarely do - i have plot points in siat that have been there since i posted the first chapter that are still relevant and happening. "harry and draco just. cut dumbledore's fucking hand off" my beloved

#posting publicly because it got away from me and maybe other people are interested idk T_T #asks #crazygingerwitch

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fear-is-truth · 3 days ago

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INTIMACY HEADCANONS — NAM-GYU (남규) 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝘩𝑢𝑟𝑡𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑜, 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑎𝑦 “𝑖 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ”

ღ warnings — kinda toxic．sfw + nsfw ．fluff ღ jackie’s note — wrote this on a whim. hope i managed to keep him in character

SFW ! !

nam-gyu knows exactly how to work his way back into your good graces. when he senses you’re upset with him—whether it’s from an argument, his attitude—he adjusts accordingly.

he’ll hover around you, bumping his head against your shoulder like an affectionate cat. he tucks his hands into his sleeves, pouts a little, peeks at you to see if you’re still mad. “c’mon… are you still mad at me?” he’ll ask, voice just the right amount of pitiful. and it works, doesn’t it? because it’s him.

incredibly tactile, but always with purpose. he doesn’t just touch you for the sake of it—there’s always some kind of motive behind it. an arm slung around your shoulders when you’re out together (you’re mine), fingers curling around your wrist when you try to walk away from a disagreement (stay), poking your cheek when you’re reading on the couch (pay attention to me).

he’d never admit it, but he likes waking up to you. even if he’s not a morning person, he likes knowing you’re there. sometimes, before he’s fully awake, nam-gyu reaches for you automatically, a hand sliding over your waist, fingers curling in your shirt. if you try to get up, he’ll mumble something, stay a little longer.

when he’s jealous, he won’t come right out and say it. instead, he’ll sigh, rub his face like he’s exhausted, and throw in some passive-aggressive comment like, “guess i should start taking notes from them, huh?” if you ignore it, he’ll sulk for a while, acting like he’s totally unbothered even though he very much is.

loves pretending to be cute when it benefits him. he’s not a naturally sweet person (far from it lol), but when he needs something from you—he knows exactly how to act. he’ll drape himself over you, mumble something lazy and endearing. maybe he pouts, maybe he buries his face into your neck, saying something about how you’re so cruel to him. and you always see through it, but does it matter when it works?

likes watching you get ready. sitting on the bed, head resting on his hand, eyes half-lidded as he watches you fix your hair, button your blouse. sometimes he’ll reach out lazily, tugging you closer by the waistband of your pants, a silent request for attention before you go.

NSFW ! !

hates when you sleep before him. it’s irrational, even he knows that, but he hates the feeling of lying beside you while you’re deep in sleep, unreachable. sometimes he’ll trail his fingers over your arm, press his lips to your shoulder, grind against you ass just to see if you’ll react to him.

nam-gyu is such a sore loser. if you ever try to tease him, if you think you can turn the tables—he hates it. at first, he’ll let you have your fun, maybe even smirk at your boldness. but the second he feels like he’s not in control? you’re done for. flipping you onto your back, pinning your wrists above your head, murmuring against your lips, cute, but you know that’s not how this works

he has a tendency to bite. not hard, not to hurt—just small, teasing nips. at your shoulder when he passes behind you, at the curve of your neck when he’s feeling playful, at your breast when you’re having rough sex.

LOVES having sex with you. memorises what you like, what makes you beg, what makes you scream for more. he uses it. and if he’s ever in trouble, if he feels you slipping from him? he uses it then too. because it’s easy to remind you of how good things are when he’s buried deep inside you.

#squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game s2 #namgyu #namgyu x reader #nam gyu #namgyu x y/n #namgyu headcanons #namgyu smut #player 124 #player 124 x reader #namgyu x you #squid game fanfic

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puckinghischier · 3 days ago

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Can you do a little blurb of Nico asking you to be his valentine 🥺

he’d been a little off all day, but not in a bad way. he just seemed…sneaky. and nervous. two adjectives you’d never normally use to describe nico, but here you are, sitting on the couch watching an early 2000’s rom com while he sends nervous glances your way every few seconds.

he keeps looking at the door, too, making you suspicious as to what (or who) is going to be coming through it.

about halfway through the movie you hear several quick knocks on the door, the sound making nico jump up like the apartment was on fire.

“i’ll go get it! stay here, it might be a stranger,” is what he rushes out, his accent thick and jumbling his words a bit. he all but runs to the door, only cracking it to whisper at whoever is on the other side.

your interest is very obviously piqued, and you’re extra tuned in to what’s happening in the small entry way, despite trying to pretend it’s not.

“y/n, i need you to close your eyes,” you hear nico ring out to you, a hint of nerves and stress in his tone.

you sit up straight from your lounged position, confusion taking over.

“neeks, why do i need to close my eyes? who’s out there? what’s going on?”

“please, just close your eyes,” he basically whines, not wanting you to ruin the surprise before it’s even in the apartment.

with an amused sigh, you comply. “okay, they’re closed. tell me when i can open them again.”

you hear hushed voices, two of them. very familiar voices.

“jack? luke? is that you?” you ask, hands still over your eyes to block your vision.

“hey y/n!” luke’s cheery voice fills the space, followed by a thud, a grunt, and jack’s voice whisper shouting “dude, you were told to be quiet. shut up!”

nico groans lowly, knowing he shouldn’t have recruited them for help.

you hear shuffling and clanking before the footsteps and noises stop, almost making you nervous for what scene you can’t see is unfolding.

“okay, before you open your eyes, i need you to know that only one of these things was my idea and the other was unknown to me until i opened the door. so, just be prepared. you’ll know which one was my idea. i hope,” nico’s nervous voice moves closer to you, until you feel his hands close around your wrists from behind.

he’s leaning over the back of the couch you’re sitting on, his heat radiating off his chest onto your back.

“alright, on the count of three,” nico whispers into your ear, letting his lips brush against the skin.

“one,” you hear a snicker from jack or luke, you can’t really tell.

“two,” you notice nico’s hands are oddly sweaty.

“three,” his hands tremble only slightly as he moves your own away from your face, not knowing what sight awaits you as your eyes adjust from the darkness you were just in.

when you can see more than just stars again, you’re met with an image you never, in your life, thought you’d see.

blocking the tv you were just watching, was a massive floral arrangement. it was in the shape of a heart, with bright red roses in the outline of the heart, followed by soft pink roses a little further inward, and white roses filling out the center.

in the middle of the foliage was a “be my valentine?” spelled out in a mixture of black roses and some other flower you couldn’t name. it was beautiful, really. a little eccentric, but absolutely gorgeous.

the flowers weren’t even what grabbed your attention, though.

what you were focused on, was the two characters stood on either side of the arrangement.

luke and jack stood on either side of the large display, in skin colored body suits, headbands with slinky antenna hearts on their heads, sporting adult diapers, fake bows and heart shaped arrows in hand, and wearing costume angel wings on their backs.

“you’ve been love bombed!!” luke shouts before they both take the heart shaped arrows and twist the base, setting off an explosion of red, pink, and white confetti to reign down on you and all of the furniture in the room.

it all happened so fast you truly didn’t know how to react, mouth dropping open in surprise.

nico mumbled what you assumed were curse words in swiss-german before standing straight up to brush the confetti out of his hair.

“for fucks sake you two, you never told me you were going to cover the whole living room in confetti you asshats.”

“well you never told us we couldn’t,” jack shrugs at nico’s words, clearly very proud of their small contribution to nico’s romantic gesture.

the three start bickering back and forth, arguing over who’s going to clean the living room up and if jack or luke has to pay for the cleaners to come in and remove the million pieces of paper.

still trying to process if what you just witnessed really happened, you come back to your sense a bit and interrupt the argument.

“wait, wait wait wait,” you gain their attention, standing up as the three men in front of you fall silent, watching you dust off all the confetti that landed on you. “nico…we’ve been dating for two years…why are you asking me to be your valentine?”

nico stares at you through the silence, his face void of any previous emotion.

“you know, it’s so funny you ask him that, because i said the same thing when he ordered this ridiculous thing the other day after practice,” jack is the one to break the silence, causing nico to turn and give him a glare that could kill.

“cap, it’s a valid question. i mean, wouldn’t this kind of be pre-dating stuff? not ‘already living together and sleeping together every night’ stuff?” luke chimes in, his comment earning a slight growl from nico before the scene erupts into chaos once again.

nico lunges towards luke, luke screams and runs behind the couch, jack is laughing so hard he’s bent over, nico is having a stand off with luke trying to gauge which direction he’s going to run, and you’re standing there, in the middle of it all.

once luke makes a run for it, nico started chasing him throughout the apartment, managing to get just within reach enough to rip the diaper off of his body, a now naked-looking luke streaking through the space.

“good lord what did i sign myself up for?” you ask jack, who’s just now coming down from his fit of giggles and laughter.

“happy valentine’s day, mrs. cap. you’re stuck with us.” jack answers, wiping at his eyes.

“well, i didn’t technically say yes before all hell broke loose,” you point out, hearing a squeal, letting you know nico caught up to luke.

“pshhh, as if you’d say no and deny yourself of all this fun.”

nico comes around the corner, pulling luke by his ear and handful of curls, mumbling to him about how he needs to apologize to you for making an inappropriate comment involving your sex life with nico, even though it wasn’t even the worst that’s ever been said to you.

“nah, you’re right, i couldn’t ever say no. i’d miss you all too much,” you think about how comical the whole thing has really been, the entertainment way better than the long forgotten movie still playing on the tv behind you.

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uncleasriel · 2 days ago

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I would argue that those modern editions still struggle to deliver on 'narrative' in the same way that, say, a robust 'narrativist' (Ugh, old Forge speak) game of Fate RPG would - or better yet, a game like Kagematsu would.

Looking at 5e D&D - it does make the characters more survivable, so you can create your won little OC and have them act out their own little stories. (A smart-ass comment story I once told a was "I min-maxed my character so they could survive combats long enough to talk about their feelings".) But that very survivability dilutes what earlier editions were good at, and doesn't add many mechanics in concert with it.

But when you look at any other mechanics, they're kind of haphazard - a Background might grant Skill bonuses, or starting equipment, or some Bonds, or even a Special Feature to push (When the Folk Hero uses Rustic Hospitality, the player can get a Safe Place to rest among the Common Folk). But while those are nicely grafted on, how often are they employed? How often do all of these function mechanically? Realistically, how often do folks use Backgrounds for anything other than Skill Proficiencies? Wouldn't it be more narratively compelling if the Bonds had some mechanical benefit (Gain a Hero Point/XP/etc if they cause problem for the character or the GM uses them to Compel the player or Intrude on their plans?)? Wouldn't D&D reward that kind of play more if the Dungeon Master's Guide had a guide on how to effectively set those up? Would is still 'feel' like D&D if it did?

I question whether it was Older D&D Editions proper, or some soft of variation on the Six Cultures of Play that cropped up over time. I think OSR in particular has embrace the 'naturalism' of the environment over concerns like game balance, and reinterpreted into new approaches using older versions of the rulesets (or remixes thereof).

I would personally say that ThyDungeonGal is mostly complaining about how the loudest voices in ttrpg culture of the past 10 years have been through D&D, that most people assume D&D (and its ilk) are the be-all, end-all of TTRPGs and struggle to conceive of ways of playing that aren't implicitly colored by the quietly assume "D&D-isms" like Combat Balance, having to do Lore/Perception/Skill checks to accomplish a thing (instead of just getting the information from the GM), prioritizing mechanical invocation over creative description of actions ("I want to make a perception check for footprints" vs "I check scan the room to look for hidden signs of the suspect's passage"), or the like.

D&D, especially under the age of Streaming Actual Plays, have tried to sell itself as "The Play Pretend With Your Friends Story Vehicle", when the mechanical support for them really isn't as robust as it ought to be. I would argue from as far back as the 2000s (when I got into D&D) folks tried to play it that same way because "it was the game for that" - a core assumption shaped by the availability of what titles you could find at the local game story, most of whose options were either d20 3.5 sourcebooks or White Wolf supplements. Where I am living now, most folks tried to do the same with with Palladium books - forcing them into the shape of "play pretend games" and using some kludges of half-assed homebrew the best brains in the highschool AV club could cobble together.

The point I'm slowly circling is that there are so many more diverse diverse RPG titles and game systems that can emulate specific genres or modes of play, and folks just aren't discovering them because D&D'smarket dominance sucks up all oxygen in the room. There are titles that can do so many more wild and crazy things, from violent crime thrillers like Hollowpoint to playable love stories like The Romance Trilogy to presteige TV simulators like Dramasystem or Prime Time Adventures. There are settings and systems that cover things like Victorian Monster Hunters, Humanistic Occult Horror, Victorian Pulp Adventurers, 1930s Pulp Heroes of various sorts, space opera ... and still so many people entering the TTRPG Space can only ever concieve of things through the lens of D&D. Even half the titles I listed still have many "trad" gaming assumptions, and don't really push what the genre can do.

At the risk of coming off like a grumpy old Marxist...D&D is a cultural hegemony that quietly places limits on what "playing pretend with made-up rules" can be, and most folks don't really question it, or know how to question it.

Well, that's my long, rambling, unformed answer. I hope that was coherent and not too asinine!

One of the funnier manifestations of gleeblor is Pathfinder players: I'll make a post about how D&D will color people's expectations of what RPGs can be like and create a very narrow set of expectations about the medium, and inevitably some Pathfinder player will be like "haha yeah those D&D players should really broaden their horizons, Pathfinder fixes all of their issues," and my friend. I'm sorry to say this but you are not immune to gleeblor and in many regards where it comes to expectations of playstyle created by the game, your favorite game is in fact just another company copying D&D's homework and slightly altering the wording.

#dnd #D&D #d dungeond & dragons #dungeons and dragons #pathfinder rpg #ttrpgs #indie ttrpgs #ttrpg discourse #ttrpg discussion

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lotuswish · 14 hours ago

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˗ˏˋ how they hold your hand (housewardens & jamil) ⭑ .ᐟ

synopsis: fingers intertwining, a gentle squeeze, the warmth of a palm against yours—how each boy holds your hand says more than words ever could. from shy, lingering touches to firm, protective grips, every gesture is a glimpse into the way they love.

featured character(s): riddle rosehearts, leona kingscholar, azul ashengrotto, kalim al-asim, jamil viper, vil schoenheit, idia shroud, malleus draconia.

content warning(s): none.

a/n: just a cute and silly idea i had at 3am. :3

riddle rosehearts

riddle holds your hand like it’s a delicate porcelain teacup—carefully, with just enough pressure to keep it secure. at first, his fingers are a little stiff, his cheeks faintly pink as he focuses on not fumbling. he tries so hard to get it just right, and when he feels your fingers relax in his, his grip softens, almost shyly. he’ll sneak a glance at your face, and if he catches you smiling, his hold tightens slightly, a quiet boost to his confidence.

“i hope… this isn’t too forward,” he says softly, his voice careful and deliberate, though his gaze lingers on your joined hands with the faintest hint of pride.

leona kingscholar

leona’s hand intertwines with yours with effortless confidence, his hold firm yet unhurried, carrying a subtle possessiveness—like your hand was always meant to be in his, and he has no intention of letting go. his fingers slide between yours with ease, and he occasionally shifts your hands against his leg or his side, keeping you close without making a fuss. if you try to pull away, even as a joke, he’ll tug you back with a low grumble, his tail flicking once beside him in annoyance.

“don’t start something you can’t finish, herbivore,” he drawls, his tone low and gruff. though he acts nonchalant, deep down, it's his way of keeping you close without having to say it out loud.

azul ashengrotto

azul holds your hand like he’s trying to make the perfect impression, his fingers enveloping yours carefully, almost methodically. his palm is cool, and every so often, his grip tightens subtly, like he’s testing the waters to see if this is really okay. though he maintains his composed expression, his gaze flickers nervously between your face and your joined hands. when he sees your reassuring smile, the faintest flush of pink spreads across his cheeks, despite his efforts to stay collected.

“i trust this arrangement is… satisfactory?” he asks, his voice soft and composed, but the way he clears his throat afterward betrays his nerves.

kalim al-asim

kalim grabs your hand without hesitation, his fingers threading through yours in a fluid, lively motion, like he’s been waiting to do it all along. his grip is strong and eager, a comforting warmth radiating from his palm. the giddy smile on his face makes it clear that your touch is his favorite thing in the world. as you walk, he swings your joined hands, and every so often, he’ll squeeze your hand gently or press it against his chest when he’s particularly excited about something.

“i’m so glad you’re here with me,” he says, his voice bubbling with joy, as though holding your hand is the highlight of his day.

jamil viper

jamil holds your hand with calculated ease—his touch appears casual, but every movement is deliberate. his fingers lace with yours slowly, his grip just firm enough to keep you close without drawing attention. to anyone else, it might seem detached, but the way his fingers subtly shift to match your movements or the faint, almost unnoticeable tension in his shoulders reveals the truth: he’s hyperaware of you.

he doesn’t say much, but after a quiet moment, he glances at your hands and murmurs, “you don’t have to hold on so tightly,” his tone calm, though the slight squeeze he gives your hand betrays just how much he doesn’t want you to let go.

vil schoenheit

vil holds your hand with an air of practiced elegance, his fingers lacing with yours smoothly, as if even the smallest gestures between you deserve the utmost intention and care. his grip is steady and purposeful, his hand fitting perfectly against yours. sometimes, he’ll lift your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against your knuckles before letting his fingers curl a little tighter around yours.

“your hands are quite lovely,” he murmurs, his tone carrying its usual polished air, but softer, more personal. “i suppose i shouldn’t be surprised—everything about you tends to draw the eye.”

idia shroud

idia starts by linking pinkies with you, his hand hovering awkwardly at first. his skin is warm and a little clammy, his nerves written in the way his fingers twitch slightly. after a few moments, he works up the courage to slide the rest of his fingers into place, his grip loose but earnest. his hand fidgets slightly against yours, like he’s still adjusting, but when he notices you’re not letting go, a shy, genuine smile tugs at his lips.

“uh… your hand’s… really warm,” he mutters softly, his voice unsteady as the tips of his hair flicker pink. “it’s… kinda nice, actually.”

malleus draconia

malleus holds your hand with a quiet reverence, his long fingers intertwining with yours with a gentle but steady grip. his touch carries a subtle chill, and there’s a deliberate care in the way he adjusts his hold, as if mindful of not startling you. occasionally, he lifts your hand slightly, aligning his palm with yours as if to compare their size. his fingers slowly curl around yours again, his touch gentle and his gaze filled with quiet wonder, as though the contrast holds a meaning only he can understand.

“your hands are small, child of man,” he says softly, tilting his head as if deep in thought. “yet they feel as though they were meant to be held by mine.”

congrats on making it to the end! if you enjoyed this, likes, comments, follows, and reblogs are always appreciated—they help motivate me to keep creating and sharing!

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countdykulaa · 3 days ago

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Ok I know you probably mean new requests but I am genuinely in love with obsessed reader and dark sevika I LOVE when both characters are crazy I need to see more, would you want to write maybe either sevika thinking about obsessed reader's voice for a while or maybe her trying to track reader down?? Or even Sevika organizing a meeting???

cw : sexual content. breeding kink . referring to strap on / dildo as cock. dom!sevika. mean!sevika. overstimulation. porn with absolutely no plot

Sevika wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about you, no matter how hard she tried. She’d throw herself into work, bury herself in stacks of paperwork, and even humor her family more than usual, just to keep her mind occupied. She’d sit through mindless meetings, hands twitching as her focus drifted again and again to the same thoughts. your voice, low and breathy, whispering against her ear. Begging her for more. It played like a broken record, over and over, no matter how much she tried to drown it out.

Her phone would become her greatest enemy. Every buzz, every notification would send a jolt through her, her stomach twisting with a hope she couldn’t shake. Her eyes would flicker to it more times than she’d ever admit, and when it wasn’t you, a frustrated snarl would form on her lips. Leg bouncing, jaw clenched, she’d curse the way you’d wormed your way under her skin.

But then, you'd call.

For the first time in two weeks, the "No Caller ID" would flash bright and wide on her phone at midnight. Sevika didn’t hesitate. The call connected on the second ring, her breath short and uneven as she brought the phone to her ear.

She didn’t speak at first, didn’t trust her voice not to give her away. She could hear you on the other end, though ...the faint sound of your breathing, hitching in a way that sent heat prickling up the back of her neck. The silence stretched, taut and electric, before you finally broke it.

“Sevika.”

You breathe out her name as if it were your one salvation. She leans forward, desperate for more.

“What are you doing right now? ”

A moment passes between you two that feels like a scenary . the faint sound of something sqelching can be heard in the background after your ever growing moans .

“I'm … i'm fucking myself on your cock … i added lube but it's so big i can't.. it wont fit . and im so wet”

your voice breaks by the end and sevika's pants feel tighter than ever as she twists in her seat . her eyes flutter for a minute and she swears she can see you , the unamed , unshaped mess riding her into an oblvion . she can see the tears welling your eyes through the pleading in your voice .

“ride me harder. faster.”

“Sevika., i can't , i can't my thighs are shaking . sevika it hurts.”

"Yes, you can. And you will. You wanna be lazy, call someone else."

She gives you little options or mercy, and judging from the slight hiccup in your voice, you comply.

“sevika , sevika you're sobig . please , please touch me i need you to grab me and pull me down i can't ... sevika please ”

fuck .

she lets her head lull back and her hand roughly grab her crotch . she can't bring it in her to touch herself , but the shame carries through her when she grinds down . she feels a million muffled sparks shoot through her thighs , all inhibitions lose as she groes desperate . she was going to cum , soon and hard . and it was like you could tell . could hear the slight in her voice judging from the way you moaned her name so heavenly.

Your next words are whispered and barely audible, but they catapult her to new heights.

“ sevika ... please cum in me .”

her voice staggers and if she wasn't close before she is now . the only sound that echoes is her laboured breath. a pit forms in her , she can feel it growing , expanding until it holds her entire beings attention . her body goes rigid , a groan shot out of her mouth as she clenches around nothing .

it takes almost two minutes for sevika to breathe out the next words .

“tell me where you are .”

She throws her phone against the wall and watches it shatter when the only answer she receives is the static of the disconnected phone.

And now she was here.

After days , weeks of those calls , of surrounding to your darkest desires every time your hand so much as touched your clit, your day of reckoning had finally arrived .

Your heart stops in its tracks as her face fills your vision. It’s like seeing a ghost, an imposing, unshakable ghost that you’ve dreamt about and dreaded in equal measure. Blood rushes from your face as a wave of panic surges up your spine. Sevika takes a step forward, her sharp eyes pinning you in place, but the heavy weight of her presence sends your instincts into overdrive. Your feet betray you, stumbling backward in shaky, uneven steps.

Her gaze doesn’t falter, and you swear you catch the faintest twitch of amusement at the corner of her mouth as she watches you retreat. It’s predatory... intense, deliberate, and knowing. The apartment feels too small now, like there’s nowhere to hide, nowhere to escape her.

And so, you run.

The click of your heels against the floor echoes louder than ever, each step ringing out like a countdown to your inevitable fate. Your chest heaves as you turn the corner, adrenaline burning through your veins. You feel like prey, hunted, cornered, and entirely at her mercy. Your mind screams to keep going, to find a way out, but your body betrays you with a craving you can’t ignore. Deep down, beneath the panic, is a desperate, unspoken desire for her to catch you. To claim you.

And then she does.

It’s only a matter of time before her hand wraps around your arm, rough and unrelenting. With a force that knocks the breath from your lungs, she slams you against the wall, face first. The cold surface bites against your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat radiating off her body, so close behind you.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” her voice is a low growl,

You shake your head, a feeble denial that’s betrayed by the wetness pooling between your thighs. You can feel her smirk even without looking at her.

“Don’t lie to me,” she says, her breath warm against your ear. Her free hand snakes up to your neck, her touch firm but teasing. You feel like a doe caught in the jaws of a lion, trembling under her gaze, powerless yet willing.

You shudder , feeling her grip tighten just slightly , enough to remind you that she’s in control .

And then, with the ease of someone who knows exactly what they’re doing , she drags you to the bedroom . Her hand stays at the back of your neck , her touch like a leash , and you stumble behind her , unable to find the will to resist.

“That’s why you called all those nights,” she spits out. “Begging me for this.”

She’s harsh in the way she handles you , no ounce of tenderness softening her grip . The final shove sends you sprawling onto your own bedroom floor , the impact reverberating through your body with a solid , jarring thud.

Your palms press against the cool surface as you push yourself up slightly , trembling. But then your gaze lifts … and there she is.

Her shadow towers over you, broad shoulders squared, her chest heaving faintly as her predatory eyes rake over you. She doesn’t move right away, and somehow that stillness is worse. It gives you time to take her in, the taut set of her jaw, the dangerous curve of her lips, and the way her presence seems to fill the room, leaving you no space to breathe.

Your body shudders violently, not just from fear, but from something deeper, something primal that you can’t seem to wrestle into submission. That commanding aura of hers, it pins you to the floor more effectively than any hand could.

She tilts her head slightly, her eyes narrowing. “Look at you,” she says, her voice dripping with disdain, but there’s something else lurking there, something that makes your stomach twist.

Your lips part, but no words come out, only shaky breaths. Every instinct tells you to move, to do something, but you don’t. You can’t. All you can do is kneel there, trembling under the weight of her dominance, as if she’s already claimed every part of you without lifting a finger.

“Please,” you gasp out, voice barely above a whisper.

“Say it.”

“Please don’t make me…” Your words falter, and she laughs softly, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrates through you.

“Say it,” she repeats, more insistent this time.

Your lips part, and the words spill out before you can stop them. “Please touch me.”

The dam bursts, shattering every last inhibition you’ve tried to hold onto. The confession hangs in the air between you, thick with tension and raw desire. It’s as if those three little words have unleashed something primal within her, something that craves, consumes, and devours. And as she lets herself indulge in you, you realize you’ve never felt more alive.

she exhales slowly, her hands moving to her belt with a quickness . she unbuckles her belt , shoving her pants down to reveal boxers . your eyes eagerly trail down her thick thighs , before rising back up . Your desperate words are caught in the back of your throat . Your eyes freeze at the obvious bulge and you can't believe this is happening and you can't breath . to breath in her presence would be the greatest sin in your eyes as you bestow upon her .

you need her . you need her so bad you can hardly see . you need her so bad you can hardly think . you've been reduced to a thing that needs sevika .

“take it baby.”

Your hands wobble and shake as you reach for her underwear . you tug on her band until the cock bounces free . the first thing you notice is the way it slightly bounces in the air , your own breath hitches . you're certain that a woman like her wouldn't dub this her most largest toy and the simple fact sparks a sharp , icing pain through your chest . you had to show her how much everyone who so much as touched her didn't matter before . didn't matter anymore .

you trailed your fingers along its length , noting it's rubbery and smooth texture , right to the tip , which you lightly stroked; and then, amazed by your own boldness, moved back down a little , to grasp her cock firmly . you lean forward , a hesitent lick being given to the tip . the sharp inhale it receives spurs you to wrap your lips around the head . your hand strokes the silicone toy as your head slowly bops .

her hand grabs at your braids , rough calloused fingers tightening the grip as she thrusts into your mouth . you relax your jaw , a vigor running through as you quicken your pace . Your gags echo the room as she shoves you deeper , longer and your fighting every urge to grind your thighs together . you can almost smell it . the taste of her musk . the rougher she thrusts, the deeper you take her , her scent lingers in your nose . at least you swear it does . you can almost taste it . when she comes minutes later , pushing your head as deep as it goes you can almost feel the cum shooting down your throat .

You barely even make it to the bed after that .

she grabs you by the arm and drags you by your wobbly and thrumming knees and grabs the back of your thighs . the squeak , doesnt leave your mouth but your nails dig into her shoulders the same .

sevika walks you to the bed and thrusts you onto the bed . your body barely has enough time to bounce before she climbs onto of you . you feel her cock on your thigh . your bare thighs . your night dress is high nearing your hips and you're sure she has a view of your pearly pink panties and you can't breathe .

you feel her touch before you see her hand moving towards your thigh . you feel the way it hovers over your under , the gentle strokes it gives to your clothed clit . before you can beg , plead , speak , you feel her thumb slightly press down on your clit . you slightly jolt , your eyes never leaving hers and your slick pooling down the same . she presses circles and you can feel how wet you are . how much you've been begging for this moment .

"se - sevika."

you barely breathe out her name before she pushes your underwear to the side . her fingers , now presumbly slick , rub on your clit gently before pressing down . you almost feel your body go rigid , your jaw go slack as she inserts two fingers . you don't have it in you to feel ashamed at how you open up to it , to her . she fucks you in a way so gentle you almost float off .

"pretty little thing aren't you." she whispers in your ear , the only response she gets being a whimper . a moment later , before you can even thrash and shake , she pulls them out of you.

you feel the head of her cock near your entrance and sink your claw like nails in her back when she puts it in . you almost feel small tear drops of blood the longer you sink in but your eyes are shut and she's so big . you wrap your feet tightly around her back so she can’t get away .

she begins a rhythm , rhythm quickly accosted with the creak of your bed slamming against the wall . she's not nice in the way she fucks you . rough , deep strokes dragging you further down until you're almost suffocating . you can't speak , can barely function beyond punched out moans and she doesn't try to fill in the silence .

The longer she fucks you the more quiet you get . your eyes flutter shut . a growing intensity settling in your lower half.

“Tell me something doll.” she whispers in your ear . you feel something building inside you , your breath staggering and almost coming to a halt. “Did you get the chase you needed?”

“Oh.” you whimper out , voice high pitched and downright pathetic in sevika’s eyes . an orgasm rumbled through you and your nails sunk in your palm as you writhed and clenched around the toy .

static washes through your ears and it takes a minute to realize sevika hasn't stopped fucking you . her hand moves from its position of make shift bound and cups your jaw . your arms ache as they remain in their position

you slump into the sheets , unable to suppress the whimpers that crawl from you . your eyes are shut , babbles and moans overtaking any sense and you in your oversensitive state can feel the edge she drags you to . your clit pulses , limbs shaking .

“look at me.” she softly commands

yours eyes flutter open as you look at her through tear welled eyes , the sweat clinging her hair to her forehead , the way her lips part slightly , the pleasure that tremors through her body. the darkness in her eyes that greets you immediately sets you off before you can control yourself . your whine shatters through the air like glass and your face scrunches as you're shoved into your next orgasm .

TAGLIST : @saycubed , @r3starttt , @cyb3rdino

#this is so old im sorry #sevika x reader #arcane #this is preseason 2 old #sevika arcane #sevika #─── ⠀ 🌺 ⠀ * ⠀ plutos works ⠀ !

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namjooningera · 1 day ago

Text

Yandere JJK! With accepting/yandere reader

Characters: Gojo, Nanami, Toji

AN: god I love these sm. I love when the reader is just insane as the characters but I literally never seen these written 😭 if y’all see stuff like this pls tag me 🤺 anyway sorry for the long wait. Also lmk if you want pt2 with Geto, Sukuna, and Choso.

TW: kil*ing, stalking, yandere acts (duh), kidnapped/kidnapping, drugging, slight sexual themes

Gojo:

You met the strongest person on the planet, the most powerful, the Satoru Gojo.

Good looking, smart, funny, powerful. The whole package! And he acknowledged you.

You normally kept to yourself, introverted and alone. It was mostly due to shame. You were born with a cursed power, and became a sorcerer. An average, bottom of the food chain sorcerer. A third grade. You almost made it to second grade- key word: almost. You decided you’d rather just be the principals assistant at jujutsu high, and a backup sorcerer for emergencies. Dragging yourself along doing stupid tasks by the principle Yagas orders, somewhat interacting with other students and teachers, overall achieving nothing.

You were rather ashamed of your abilities. You always knew you had somewhat potential, you could definitely climb the ranks, but you were exhausted. Fighting day and night, your mental health deteriorating- you had no motivation.

Your life was basically empty. No goals, no motivation, a life barely worth living.

Until you met him.

The strongest. You hadn’t realized it until you were called for backup. Some fight the first years got caught up with by accident, with dangerous curses above their grades. You fought them off until you felt an energy breeze into your skin, your skull, in your blood. His energy. His domain.

You were caught in his domain, your body frozen as you felt his aura in your blood, and your body filled with adrenaline.

Ever since you were born you felt something was missing. You felt empty. Like a puzzle missing its most important piece, you were alone in the world and isolated, even while you were surrounded by others.

But the feeling you felt? While his domain surrounded you and caressed you and you felt his energy in your lungs, your eyes, your brain filled with him him him. You knew who was going to give you that last puzzle peice, the person who is that last puzzle piece, the piece to make you feel whole, to make you happy, to make you full.

You hadn’t realized his domain had let go, you were back on your feet, and the threat was gone. You snapped out of it (barely) to check on the students.

You felt it. That motivation you’ve never felt before. You know now what your goal is, to fly up the ranks, to grab his attention, to bring back that feeling and keep it in your grasp, to have the will to live again.

What you didn’t know, was he felt it too.

He felt your cute little heartbeat in his domain.

He felt your energy, an energy that felt… different. There was something different about you.

He breathed in your breathes, he felt your touch, he accepted your gaze, he wanted more. The thought of gently opening your belly to suffocate himself in your small ribs, to hide himself like a cocoon in your small body to be hidden from the world as the “strongest.”

Satoru gojo, was, intrigued.

A feeling he was unfamiliar with.

He was a clingy man for sure- you knew that as he whined at your side for attention as you talked to Shoko. You couldn’t believe one of the strongest and a teacher at this school was acting so.. blunt.

But even as he continued to act clingy, you couldn’t help but notice he acted that way towards everyone. Of course what you didn’t notice was a different glint in his eye with the way he looked at you then others.

Even with his clinginess, you felt the way he was also detached. You wanted to open his brain, pick apart the pieces and understand why he acted the way he does, why he’s so close but so far, does he even like you?

This went on for several weeks- his clinginess towards you, and yet you felt his distance. You couldn’t stalk him well, knowing with his power he’d most definitely catch you immediately. You instead took a more relaxed approach, something subtle and less.. noticeable.

You were able to get info about him from the other teachers, it wasn’t that hard. Plus, most of the time he yapped it out himself.

You were quite smart with your tactics, subtly using the info about him for your own good. Oh, you just happened to buy kikufuku and just happened to have extra for him. Oh you just happened to wear his favorite colors and put your hair up the way he likes it.

It’s just a coincidence!

You got quite tired though, not seeing any changes. With all the info you put to work and trying to be a better sorcerer while still having assistant duties- you were exhausted.

And then you noticed small trinkets in your home starting to disappear. It wasn’t much; things disappearing as simple as a simple piece of jewelry, a lounging shirt, chapstick, etc…

And of course you didn’t think much of it, you probably misplaced it somewhere anyway.

And then you found a little white hair on your pillow.

“Yeah it’s just down the hall from here.”

You somehow convinced Gojo Satoru to come over to your home (it was incredibly easy), and you led him inside your apartment. He was as excited as always, picking at things, making comments, being his overall cheery happy self.

“Tea?”

“Oh yeah sure.” He answered, following you into the kitchen.

“Grab the tea packets for me?” You’re putting the kettle on the stove, heating up the water. Gojo skips to one of the higher cabinets, opening it and grabbing Jasmine tea packets.

“Hm that’s weird.” You giggle.

“Hm?” He smiled back at you.

“You knew exactly where the tea packets are.”

“…” However he just played it off with nervous laughter and using the excuse that ‘your home is just so organized of course the tea is in this cabinet’ and you just smile sinisterly because you know he’s lying and you know he doesn’t know that you know.

It funny to catch him off guard like that, where he almost trips in himself because you catch something he does, something that could expose him.

You make the tea however as he yaps off about his day, and all you could think about was I can’t let him get away. The more you felt his distance even as his physical body clung to you, the more you felt the motivation he gave you start to drain away.

“So what was the big news you wanted me to come over for?” He giggled, kicking his feet as he sat at the kitchen island with his tea you prepared for him.

“Well… I’m a second grade now!” You squealed, finally accomplishing something you felt worth mentioning.

And of course Gojo is proud of you, why wouldn’t he be?

“That’s amazing sweet cheeks I know you could!” His god awful pet names for you- but you know he’s proud. He stands up to try and give you a hug or pat your head since you stand on the opposite side of the kitchen island but- what the?

His feet are wobbly, and his vision almost instantly goes black the second he gets up, the room spinning as darkness started to consume him.

“I know! Isn’t it just so great? I’ve been working really hard Gojo-sama.” You smile, skipping to him as he starts to fade away. “And it’s all ‘cause of you. I should be thanking you.”

His body finds its way unconscious in your arms, “I can’t thank you enough” you embrace him tednerly, sighing as his entire body rests in your hold, your eyes glancing over at his half drunk laced cup of tea.

It’s weird- he’s never felt this weak.

His body is tied, he’s bound and gagged. As his vision started to clear, he noticed he was in what looked like a basement, a very dimly lit and dull basement. As he started to struggle against his restraints, the tighter it got. He noticed the cursed tags on them, hundreds even. He could break through them, he just needed a bit of time to gather some strength, he was still dizzy after all.

However a familiar figure emerged from the darker parts of the basement, where his sweet beloved crush stood in front of him. His heart raced as he recognized you, in all your gorgeous glory.

“You’re awake, good.” You sigh, lips that curve into that sweet familiar smile he’s loved ever since he first acknowledged you.

“Y/n.” Gojo whispers, his voice muffled by the cloth gagging him, his mind boggled at the idea the sweet innocent weak you could pull something off like this.

“I know this isn’t ideal, Gojo. I’m aware, but I just couldn’t help it. You saved me.” And how come he just noticed the way your eyes glare into hearts, a smile so sinister and cute he couldn’t help but melt.

“Saved?” Drool covering the gagged cloth, trying not to whine against the gag.

“Yes, saved. It’s all you. You know they’ve been talking about making me a teacher? A teacher. I won’t just be.. a nobody.”

And you don’t notice the way his eyes droop onto your face, eyeing your body up and down and dragging his gaze back up to your face. A pink blush covering his cheeks and extra drool leaving his mouth.. even an extra body component that was.. throbbing.

He muffled something against the cloth, whining almost. You rip the gag out his mouth.

“You were never a nobody.” He gasps out.

You sigh. “Always so supportive. I hope you can continue being supportive while your stuck down here. Don’t worry, it’ll only be for a while..” which is a lie, your sure you want to keep him down here for as long as possible. You know it’ll be difficult, having to use your own cursed energy and heavy tags to keep him down and submissive to you, but it’s worth it.

“Y/n.”

“You don’t have to hide anymore- were the same gojo. I know your secrets, I know how you feel about me. You’re stuck with me.”

His eyes are wide and scary now, a gaze your sure will haunt you. You turn your eyes away from him, deciding it would be better to give him some time to settle, to let him relax. But as soon as you turn your body, you hear a loud rip, and your body is slammed onto the floor.

However you realize you aren’t in pain, which is abnormal, until you see he had his infinity around your body to make sure it wasn’t hurt in the way he slammed you down.

Your chest squished against the floor, body firmly planted as Gojos body held you down tightly, his lips pressed closely into the side of your face as he breathed heavily.

“Sweet cheeks- this? All for me?” His lips were in a wide grin, eyes crescents and crazy.

You whine in his grip, trying to struggle out of it. Shit. Your supposed to have the power in this situation not him. He’ll run away now- he thinks your crazy, he’s gonna hurt you, he hates you-

“I’m not stuck with you- you’re stuck with me.” He sighs lustfully against your lips, his hand gripping your jaw into your face, the other holding your smaller body down.

“Your perfect f’me” and his lips finally press against yours, a sweet harmony in crazy.

Nanami:

You’ve always been fond of the house wife ways. You’d watch those mothers with loving husbands walk past you, a little child in their cradle and they giggle and hold each others hands. You know it’s not all giddy and fun and games, a family is a huge deal. A huge deal you’ve never been able to have.

A loving and accepting family? Unconditional love? Yes, you’ve never had that. And you think at this point, you probably never will.

You’re a jujutsu sorcerer. You don’t have time to start a family or even meet a man. But god do you crave it. That domesticity, that life of love and safety. You think this as you kill curses and watch the stinky blood ooze out their green skin, it’s bodies littering the floor.

You’re sick of it. Sick of being a sorcerer. You used to love this. It gave you a thrill to kill curses and save humans, you felt like a hero. But then was when you were a teenager. When you were free and happy. But things change and now you would just like to settle. Settle down, enough work and fighting. You’d like to enjoy your life, being thrown into battle as soon as you hit the ripe age of fifteen.

But alas, as you come back to jujutsu high, nodding at the sorcerers who brush past you. You smell disgusting, the blood and guck had seeped into your clothes and dampened your skin. You feel gross and just need a shower.

But your stoped by a certain teacher and sorcerer, a very annoying man that you grew up with.

“Hey! Y/n!” It’s Gojo, in your face. “You smell gross, you finished them off though right?”

“Obviously.” You roll your eyes.

You really have lost the glint in your eyes. That special excitement after you kill a curse, the way you’d brag and jump around after saving people. You don’t really care anymore. It’s a repeat everyday. Just with new curses and different people to save. Yet the same scenario and same situation. And you’re sick. Sick of all of it.

“Anyways, Nanami wanted to talk to you~ hmm let me guess, maybe he finally grew the balls to ask you out?” She smirks at you, glasses down at his nose as he teases you.

You jab him in the rib with your elbow as you walk past him. “Whatever just tell me where he is.”

You’ve always had quite a thing for Nanami. Perhaps he was the reason your craving for such a domestic life. The way he held himself up, responsible and serious. You just knew he’d be an amazing husband. You’ve seen the way he takes care of other people, ever since high school, and you watch as he takes care of his student now.

You sometimes wonder if he’d be a good father. You definitely think he would be. He’s a sweet man and he’s always been. You’ve never seen him raise his voice (except towards Gojo, but that’s normal), he’s always caring and it touches you everytime.

But you know he’s never going to be yours. Your on and off crush on him, you brush it off as just looking up to him. He’s smart, muscular, responsible and very handsome. What’s not to look up to?

But sometimes the love sickness bubbles up in your throat. As you watch him be himself. That one time you had to go on a mission with him, where the children were the victims, and after, he had taken his time to take care of the kids and check up on them one by one. They weren’t hurt, just scared, but he made sure to reassure them check them for wounds. Your heart swelled at that, especially when he came to check on you, too.

Sometimes he makes you angry however. Whenever you see some sorcerer or office worker throw themselves at him, and he doesn’t even notice. Their slutty ways in trying to get his attention, caressing his back with their ugly done nails, whispering things you can’t hear into his ear.

Every time he brushes them off.

And your happy, but then you feel dejected, because you remember doesn’t want a relationship. He’s said it before, you overheard. He does dream of being married and having children, but being a sorcerer would take up too much time and he couldn’t.

So why did he become an office worker and still brush everyone off?

Your short heels click against the floor as you walk the floorboards. Getting to where Gojo told you to meet Nanami.

You bite your lip at the hurt in your leg as you walk. A few weeks ago, you had a terrible accident on a mission. A curse caught you off guard, (you didn’t tell anyone it was because you were in your feels, deep in thought) but you got insanely hurt.

Ribs bruised, ankle shattered, cervical spinal cord bruised. You’re insanely lucky for Shoko, and her ability to heal you. However you can still feel the after shocks of it, your body tired after being forced to heal after such heart quenching injuries.

You smile though, remembering the heart break look in Nanami’s eyes. You don’t mean to feel happiness from his pain of seeing his close friend injured so terribly, but god was it satisfying to see how much he cared.

“Kento?” You open the door to the empty teachers lounge where he was apparently supposed to be.

“How was your mission, y/n?” He’s sitting on the sofa of the lounge, dipping a tea packet into a cup of hot water.

“Oh fine. Got it done, I guess.” You sit on the table in front of him, stretching and yawning. “So what’s up?”

God you remember the adorable way his brows clenched and eyes widened in pain as he looked down at you on Shoko’s gurney. The way he cared so much. I need to make him mine. You thought, but maybe that was the delusion talking. The blood that seeped from your head and body. But he held your hand the entire night. Whispered reassuring words of love into your ears and even kissed your hand and forehead when he thought you were sleeping.

That wasn’t delusion right? He did that. He cares for you. More than he’s shown care for the others. But alas, you know the perfected blonde headed man is too busy for a relationship, plus you don’t even think he’d want you like that.

“I was told by Shoko to check up on you.” He hands you a coffee. You smile as you take it, knowing he always knows exactly how to make your coffee just right.

“What? Why did she send you? Why didn’t she ask for me, herself.”

He shrugs. “You know how she is.”

You laugh at that, and nod, taking a sip of your coffee. “Oh thanks Ken, I needed this.” You sip some more. And he eyes you, watching you drink the coffee he made specially for you.

“You as a matter of a fact.. I am feeling quite.. drowsy.” For some reason, a sort of fog hits your brain. You believe it to be from fighting those curses. But it wasn’t that bad, so why do you feel so tired all of a sudden?

“That’s okay. Just let it happen.”

What? You look up at your close friend, the blonde man, eyeing him weirdly. “Ken? Kento I think you should call Shoko.”

“No need,” he catches you as you stumble off from sitting on the table, his arms engulfing your smaller figure. “I can take care of you just fine.”

You blush at that, but can’t focus on his sweet words because your body has just gone limp in his arms, and your barely conscious. The coffee slips out your hand and falls to the floor, the plastic seal breaking and making the contents of the cup spill onto the ground.

He sighs at that, but puts his hands under your arms and picks you up, one hand under your bottom and the other around your back, making you lean all of you onto him.

“Ken…”

“Shh, my dear. It’ll all feel better soon. I’m here.”

You wake up in a familiar room. Not too familiar, but you know it to be the guest bedroom in Nanami’s home. But then you notice yourself wearing one of his white button ups, with nothing else on except the same pair of panties you were wearing when you passed out. Your hair is down and cascading your shoulders, your body is limp and tired.

“Sweetheart? Oh you’re up.” Nanamis head pops into the room from the bedroom door.

You try to get up and greet him but you find your weak body is tied by a chain to the bedpost of the bed. A chain that is made of pure curse power, making it so you stay put and unable to use your cursed energy to break it.

“Ken?” You whine, reaching out to him.

He looks so domestic. His shirt is off, (which you realize, is the one your wearing), he’s in sweatpants and his hair is down, not gelled back.

“Good morning.” He sits next to you on the bed, and it makes you aware that you can’t use any of your power. “Sleep well?”

It almost makes you cry. This kind of domesticity, is what you wanted. A loving and very handsome husband, doting on his lovely wife, something as simple as greeting you in the morning makes your heart pop.

“F-fine. What is this? Why am I here, Kento?”

He frowned, looking at down before looking back at you. “I.. have made some arrangements.”

“Arrangements?”

“Yes. Y/n. You are to stay with me and live here. As my partner of course. It’s all for your own safety. Of course I’ll make sure your provided with and supported every step along the way. All the things you need are here, including me.”

He gulps in the way you stare at him wide eyed. His hands are shaking and his voice is trembling. It’s obvious that he wants your validation, that he knows you’ll hate him that your scared-

But you’re not. You pinch yourself. This has to be a dream. It doesn’t matter that your tied to the bed post, that you’ve been taken here against your will, that you definitely think he must’ve put something your coffee to make you all drowsy- he wants you. He needs you. He’s basically begging with his eyes for you to forgive and accept him.

“As your.. partner?” You gulp. You hope, you beg, in your mind, that he means what you think he means. Please. You beg in your head.

“My.. my lover. My girlfriend, and hopefully future wife.”

Your jaw is basically to the floor, your eyes wide as you stare at the man who bunches his eyebrows and squints his eyes, biting his lips in pure nervousness.

He’s adorable. Absolutely adorable. You think.

You reveled in the way he felt so incredibly intense for you that he just had to take you. That instead of any other way he needed you so bad he just stole you away. He doesn’t just want you, he needs you. You shiver looking at your cuffed ankle, there’s no escape for you. Even if you tried. That’s how much he needs you. That even against your will, he’ll have you. Your thighs rub together and you can feel a certain piece of fabric under you dampen. A redness makes its way onto your cheeks and a hazy feeling on pure lust clouds your brain.

Before he can react, you pounce on him. He’s under you, your hands on his shoulders as you hold him down. He gasps, afraid you were going to attack him. He just knew this would happen- he knew you’d be angry- that you’d hate him with all and every bone in your body- wait what?

If you hate him so much, why are you squishing his cheeks and coeing at him?

“Aww Ken I’ve never seen you this nervous before you’re so adorable.”

Wait what? He just stares up at you, wide eyed. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah. All twitchy and scared as if I was gonna yell at you. Ken I’ve never seen you like that!” You giggle, and he just stares up at you.

“I’ve hurt people for you. I’ve.. I’ve been close to killing them just because they’ve laid eyes on you-“

It’s like he’s trying to show how cruel he is, how he’s a bad man. But you just laugh.

“Aww Ken I didn’t know you had a jealous side!”

He just furrows his brows. “I kidnapped you, my dear y/n.”

“You sure did, it’s kind of an upgrade from my apartment though.”

“Y/n I-“ “Stop Ken.” It’s obvious what he’s doing, he doesn’t believe you to be okay with his messy obsessive love.

“How many kids do you want Ken? You want a big wedding, right? Black or white choir- or are we gonna have a DJ? Oh my god can I get a pet-“

“Y/N.”

You freeze, getting of him and sitting down on the bed, crossing your legs, a pout on your lips from being interrupted.

“You.. you.. your okay with this? This arrangement?”

“You drugging me, kidnapping me, then tying me up to a bedpost? All so I can be yours? Yeah I guess so.”

“.. You’re serious?”

“Kento..” You whine, watching him sit up. “I’ve always liked you, silly. I don’t mind your weird little quirks.”

His eyes soften, his gaze almost bleeding through your face. You all of a sudden feel hot and heavy.

“What, Ken?”

“You accept me? For everything I am?”

You nod eagerly. “I can stay home and be your lil’ house wife Ken~”

Blush spreads through his cheeks, he coughs, rubbing his face awkwardly, as if he was some shy school boy, aroused.

“I’ll take as many kids as you give me, a wedding with only close friends and family, black choir, and yes, you may have a pet.” He answers all your questions from before.

Your eyes widen and you squeal, but that’s quickly caught off by Nanami throwing you up in the air, the cursed chain breaking from his consent, as he catches you back in his arms and spins you around, laughing and smothering the sides of your face with kisses. You wrap your legs around his waist and kiss his cheek.

“This.. this calls for a celebration.” He slyly smirks at you, looking up at you cradled in his arms, wearing his button up. You know what he means, and you don’t fight against it.

“Ken.. so about having those kids..” You giggle, your feet unwrapping around his waist so they can push his pants down.

Toji-

You’ve been a maid at several different locations, your resume is quite lengthy. You needed a side job while you attended nursing school, after all those tuitions are a bitch. One of the first places you worked was in the Zenins clan property, after all, free housing and good pay? What more can a nursing student ask for?

It was quite large, and you weren’t the only maid, but probably the youngest. You found yourself getting to know everybody there; the maids, the clan leaders (who you’d only nod at), the younger clan members and- wait who’s that? There’s a gorgeous hunk of a man, tall, muscular, and oh so many scars.

You’ve never been interested in boring business men, the boys in your classes, every immature guy who’s ever asked you out- no. But who was he? You barely ever saw him around and yet he’s gorgeous, even with the plentiful of scars that covered his face and the badly done bandages around his arms. He didn’t even spare you a glance as he walked past you- and a shiver of cold went down your spine as he did so. You needed to find out asap who this man was.

And you did. A young man, around 18, a disgrace, and you know now where those scars must have came from. The curses he’s forced to fight. You found out from other clan members, it wasn’t hard. They all talked harshly about him, like he was an abomination to the Zenin clan and you couldn’t help but feel bad.

And finally after trying to bump into him several times, trying to make eye contact with him, get even a peep out of him- you find him passed out on the floors of the corridors of the Zenin members dorms.

He was bleeding out, shaking and twitching, and you could see the large gashes in chest, the deep bruises on his muscular arms as he tried to pull himself up, the blood that drips from his lips. You thought he looked gorgeous like this.

But you were slightly worried, after all he was bleeding out fast, and it was a matter of time before his body would be in a critical state- so you acted fast. You slipped him into your room, hiding him away from the world. You grabbed supplies from the nursing station; gauze, bandages, iv bag, overall tools you thought you might need.

This was your chance to make him notice you. After all, you overheard that he’d be punished if he needed taking care of at the nurses station- so what better solution is you, a nursing student, to help him secretly! You’re doing him a favor.

What you don’t understand is why he freaks out the first time he wakes up. You’re sure it’s some trauma response, but he’s ripping his iv out and breaking things in his way and almost tackling you down- he’s scared. So of course you sedate him, luckily you kept that needle on you. And there was just something so powerful in the way that with just a small needle pressed into his skin, this big hunk of a man would slump against you- at your very mercy.

The second time he awakes is a lot better. He’s calmer and he takes a good look at his surroundings, realizing he is in fact still in the zenins property, just in a different room then his. You explain how you found him and that took him in to take care of his wounds. The only reaction you get from him is a weird furrow in his brows and a twinkle in his eyes- a facial reaction you can’t pinpoint or read.

After that you’re quite disappointed. Once he’s out your room you two go back to never talking or interacting, and you deem your plan a failure.

But what you don’t know is that you caught a little someone’s eye.

What you believe is him avoiding you is Toji actually watching you from where you can’t see. What you believe is him ignoring you- refusing to make eye contact with you, is him knowing he’ll break and pounce on you once you do. What you believe is him not liking you, not having an inch of interest in you, is him watching you sleep from the window in your maid dorm.

He just can’t understand. Toji has never thought of himself as a real person with real feelings. His feelings- buried. Empathy and livelihood? Buried. He was never allowed to be human. And he’s never seen himself as one. So why did you treat him like one? Why were you kind? Sweet? Your adorable smile and silky hair, glossy eyes and this cute facial expressions. Nobodies ever given Toji a second thought. Not an ounce of love or empathy has ever been shown to him- but you. With all your generosity and kind hearted actions- you took care of him personally because you didn’t want him to get punished in the nursing station.

With your tender eyes and your soft hands, when you caught him two days aftwr he left your room so you could re-do his bandages, cleaning his wounds and reapplying new cleaner gauze around his old injuries.

He didn’t say a word, he couldn’t- his little breaths hitching every time your soft hands glazed him or your face was just a little to close to his.

He had to learn everything about you. Your childhood, the way you loved, the foods you ate and all your friends- he needed to know everything. He’d even purposely let a curse or two bite at him- just so he could stand at your door bloody and bruised, waiting for your soft touches.

He was utterly obsessed.

But then you up and left.

Those little interactions didn’t grow to anything, and you left after graduating your school, you didn’t have to be a maid anymore.

And that’s when he became incredibly desperate.

Present day, he finds himself at your door, at your apartment. It’s been a while- but he found you. He knows he needs to plan this perfectly, some way to make you swoon and fall for him, a way that won’t make you question how the hell he found you.

But then he notices you inside your apartment, you’re sitting eating a candle-lit dinner, you look so beautiful- wait who’s that? A man sits in front of you, eating the food Tojis sure you made for him. You know he’d cook for you right? You wouldn’t have to move a muscle. But Tojis angry, he’s upset, his blood is boiling at the thought of you with a lover. That’s supposed to be him! Giggling and eating across from you, talking and- did he just hold your hand? He’s holding your hand.

And that’s when Toji breaks.

You barely even process what happened, all you see is blood and your date is no longer in his chair, his body isn’t even in the room. But there is another man in the room, a tall muscular man, with that familiar glaze in his eyes you remember so well.

You immediately get up out of reflex, to run to hide to do something. And he’s caught off guard as you run off into your apartment, hiding in your closet. He sighs. He knows he shouldn’t have done what he just did, he could have at least waited. Waited till the man left your apartment where he could kill him in peace, without scaring you. But now, he has to do this the tough way. He has to force you into his arms. Fine. That’ll do, too.

He stomps into your room, glancing around your bedroom and taking it all in. He’s already been in here once when you weren’t home. Climbing into your bed, stealing a few hairs off your hairbrush, organizing the plushies on your bed and taking notice of every little thing in your home. That’s also how he knew every small hiding place you could possibly be in.

“Come on, you know I won’t hurt you. I just came to visit you..”

He finally speaks, and his voice his deep and almost slurred, it’s obvious he’s excited. He’s always had to hide his devastating obsession with you, the only person who’d ever glance his way, the only person who’s ever smiled at him or clean his wounds, even comfort him. You were there. The only person there. An Angel, his sweet Angel, he had to have you. After all, you had to be his soulmate. Why else would you care the way you did, when nobody else could?

“I promise I’ll be good to ya.”

He says as he actively touches your things, pocketing small items like your chapstick or hair band- even your panties.

“I’ll treat ya well. You won’t have to worry your little head off about nothin’. Chores, cooking, shopping, working, I can take care of it all for ya. Just come out kay’?”

The way he talks actually seems genuine, as you peer at him from the small crack in the closet.

He thinks you’re svared, probably shaking and terrified. Like a little bunny being hunted by wolf, or a small gazelle being preyed on by a lion. He’s sure your svared, dizzy, traumatized.

Oh, but you’re not.

You’re shivering and shaking yes. But from fear? No, excitement. This was.. exhilarating. You’ve never felt anything like this. The way he killed for you- the way his fingers glide against your things like he’s saving them in his memory-remembering what you like.

It’s exactly what you did.

You remember- back when you worked for the Zenin clan. He was set on missions, to kill curses- it was more of a humiliation ritual then anything. You knew he’d come to you silently asking for help with his wounds, you helped him everytime. But while he was gone?

Well, you were quite sneaky.

Picking the lock or climbing through his open window. Then you’d snoop around. He didn’t have much, it’s obvious he wasn’t loved or cared for at all. That’s okay, you’d provide more then enough love and care for the both of you. You’d snoop and document every little finding, whatever hints you could get from what he liked and used.

That is, until you found your used panties hidden in his pillow case.

And that’s when you knew, you had a little stalker on your tail.

But everytime you tried your hardest to interact with him other then a silent nod in the hallway as you walked past him, or a twitch of his lips as an answer when you nursed him- you got nothing. Like a stone wall you couldn’t break, couldn’t crack, and you just wanted your yandere to snap. You wanted to have him in your arms, where you could coo at him and tell him that he didn’t need his family, or any friends or anyone- because your love could overcome all. That he only needed you.

So you decided that you’d take a risk. A risk to finally make his facade crack, so that he’d finally break loose and show his true colors. You knew it was possible- seeing that he also had an alter of you under his bed, in a shoe box. A collection of things- a few candid photos of you, a used tissue, an old bracelet, nail clippings, a receipt, and.. your used tampons? Okay. He did love you, obsessed even, you could make him break.

And so you took the risk of leaving him completely.

You left- moved into a nice but small apartment on the other side of the city. You prayed he’d find you, hoping that this wasn’t just a fluke- that you finally met your match- your soulmate.

So finally, when you came home to a few small things missing, your plushies organized in jus the way you like them, and the smell of him lingered in the air- you knew he was yours. All yours. Your soulmate, your man, yours yours yours.

So you shake with excitement and glee and his hunky body makes its way closer to your closet, where you hide. You know your panties are soaked, and there’s a big smile on your face that definitely gives away how happy you are. You’re sure if you had a tail like a puppy, it would be wagging like crazy out of pure excitement.

“Doll. I’m getting angry. If you get out now, I won’t have to drag ya out okay?”

Your silent though, your eyes full of hearts as you cover your mouth, trying not to breathe so loud.

“I swear to fucking god. This is my last warning, if you don’t get out I’ll-“

“I’m here!” You whine softly, kicking the closet door open just a crack, wide glossy eyes looking up at the hunky man.

He hadn’t expected you to actually be complaint and do what he asked, he expected he’d have to force you out. Tojis eyes were wide as he looked down at you, watching you shuffle out the closet, on your knees, your tiny body shaking.

“Oh doll.”

He picks you up, cradling you into his strong arms, and you immediately wrap your arms and legs around him and your face finds solace in his neck, nuzzling into him.

“Did I scare you too hard? You know I hurt him for your own good, I promise he was bad. I’ll take care of ya.” His arms are heavy around you, tight and unforgiving. He can’t let you go, not now, not after he finally has you plaint in his arms.

But you also want to see how far he’d go, now that he’s in your arms.

“Let go of me! You’re insane! I-I hate you!” You acted, shoving him and scratching at his neck and chest, trying to shove him away.

He grunted, his eyes wide again as you started to fight back. He thought this might happen- it’s why he wanted to go the easy way first, to just softly ease you into his arms- until he ended up breaking.

But he was angry, shoving you down onto your own plush bed, his hands pinning you down by your shoulders.

“Stop fighting!” He yelled- almost whining. He was angry, but it all came from a place of insecurity- and you knew that. So you played into that.

“I don’t wanna be with you- you’re disgusting!”

And things went dark after that.

You awoke in a dark environment, cold, and your ankle chained to a wall, and your laid on a clean futon. Your dress clothes are still on from your “date” but your shoes are off and your light makeup was cleaned off your face. You could tell your hair had been brushed, your favorite skincare serum applied to your skin, chapstick on your lips, as if you were preened after being knocked out.

Your ears perk up as you hear a door swing open, and your see your lover walk into the dark room your in. Your confused, you hadn’t expected him to go as far as to knock you out and take you away- to wherever this is.

“Ah. Your awake. If you’re wondering where you are, it’s the basement of the Zenin clans property- a dungeon if you will.”

You look at him confused. You didn’t think he’d take you back to his origins, a place you were sure he hated.

“They’re all dead, if you’re wondering. You’re my family now.”

All dead? He… killed his family? Your sure now the estate must be his, his to make new memories in, his to have you in, his to make a new family in.

“T-Toji, this place is scary.” A cell you were basically in, you were lucky he had placed a clean futon in there.

“Scary huh? Well I can’t bring you up if you aren’t good.” His tone was almost condensing, but god were you into it. He has rules for you doesn’t he? You have to be good for him. And that was enough to get you excited again.

“I-I’ll be good! I promise!” You tried to crawl to him, but the chain withheld you. His eyes were wide and curious at what you said, the way you reached out to grab him, your sweet eyes he’s seen before, the innocent glance and pouty lips.

“I promise.” You pouted, an innocent act for how you truly felt, wanting to pounce on him, to confess all your petty sins and show him all your love.

“Prove it, doll.”

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