#it's such a neat little explanation. it's so perfect

[butchnavi]

why can't my ex best friend just be a repressed homosexual who is in love with me or something and not the most evil uncaring person on earth with no excuse for treating me like shit and ruining the way I view myself and my relationships forever

[suiana]

cw: matriarchy, yandere! househusband, fem reader, this is a work of fiction, please don't read further if you're uncomfortable, thanks!

it's the 1950s. men have become the caretakers of the house while women have been tasked with being the breadwinner. the age of revolution, they say! a time period where societal norms have completely flipped. a society where it's a woman's world.

as a woman, you're expected to marry a respectable man. one who knows how to care for the household and love you like a loving man.

thankfully, you've found one. your highschool sweetheart that is just the sweetest thing ever. handsome, tall, and knows his way with tending to homely duties. he even loves you like it's his last day alive!

he's basically society's ideal man. and he's your husband.

but you don't know how to tell him that you want to get a divorce. that you can't keep up with his... oddly obsessive behavior that's suffocating you. how you seem to dread going home, expecting a warm welcome only to get hit by a barrage of accusatory questions of whether you're cheating on him or not.

you love him, you do. but your husband has changed for the worse ever since you two got married a few months ago. perhaps a few weeks after your honeymoon. you know how people are, questioning why there's still no child even after a few months of marriage.

and it's not that you two are infertile. you're just not ready for one yet. you've explained it to him, you want to focus in your career first. your husband should understand that, shouldn't he? he's a man after all.

yet it seems that he thinks otherwise. constantly doing it, asking whether you're seeing others, whether you really love him or not...

it's annoying. and frankly, you've had enough.

you know, you know. men are emotional creatures. they get anxious and angry easily. they just can't help it! it's in their nature after all. but still... if he could just be a little more understanding... a little less... paranoid...

"a d-divorce?"

he gasps, taking a wary step back as he drops the stack of papers to the floor. his eyes are wide, body frozen to the ground. horrified, you could see it in his eyes.

"but honey... we're so happy, aren't we? you love me, don't you?"

you let out a sigh, pinching your nose bridge at his words. yes... yes you do love him. and you still do, you think. but how can you stand a single more day of him acting like you're going out cheating when really, you're working your back off so you can spoil your darling husband?

"I'm just not satisfied with how you're behaving."

you suppose that will work. how will he ever resist a woman's word? not in this era, clearly.

you watch as your husband stares at you, face pale as he brings his hands to his face, murmuring words of despair while he shakes his head.

no, no, no.

this couldn't be happening.

he thought you two were perfect together! what changed?! you love him, don't you? you still come home to him everyday, give him a peck as you walk through those doors! everything was fine! everything is fine!

no, you must've been brainwashed by someone else.

by some... some other manwhore. a good for nothing man who didn't get a proper education, surely!

that's the only other explanation. you must've been seduced! after all, you're a good woman. you could never do any wrong. not in the eyes of the law, not by society, and definitely not in his eyes.

because you're his wife. his beloved wife. you're a good breadwinner, you work hard, you bring him out on dates, you don't abuse him like other wives do...

and in return, he's the perfect husband! he cooks the best food, doesn't he?! all hot and delicious! you said so yourself! he dresses how you like, works out, keeps the house neat and tidy for you, does groceries and makes sure that everything is perfect!

sure, he's a little bit on the protective and anxious side... but can you blame him? you're gorgeous! he's worried you'll be stolen from him while you work! by- by those good for nothing guys that think they should be independent. who do they think they are, working in public when they should be someone's husband? spewing those gender equality crap that you have been talking about too? you've been poisoned. surely.

and the fact that he's not able to provide a child yet? of course he's going to be anxious and overthink! can you blame him? he's just a man!

"please... please don't leave. I'll do anything. anything! you can't leave me! I'll die without you!"

he feels his heart race, sweat lining the skin of his forehead. he's hyperventilating now. can't take the fact that you actually want to leave him.

it's not real.

It's not real.

It's not real.

and yet, the way that you're looking at him is proving him otherwise.

"but you can't leave me! we've been together since high school!"

he tries to plead with you. but you're stone-faced and look like you're not looking to negotiate. his palms grow clammy as he desperately racks his brain for words.

"I'll change! I'll stop... stop asking whether you're cheating on me- you're not, right? you wouldn't cheat on me! i know you wouldn't! you're just misguided!"

then you let out a soft sigh and he feels the last of his restraint snap.

"no! you can't leave me!"

in a second, he's on you, pinning you to the ground. all rationality has left his body but can you blame him? he's just a man. men get emotional easily. that's why it's better for them to stay at home, away from politics where they could easily cause millions of death over a small dispute. at home, where they belong.

"I'm yours! forever and now! you can't just... just throw me away! we took vows! you can't break them!"

fat tears roll down his cheeks, his hands pinning your wrists to the ground. despite the fact that they're more emotional, men have always been stronger. isn't that why they had to go school to be taught how to control their violence? to not raise a hand at anyone no matter how emotional they get?

"I'm your husband! i would never leave you! you can't just leave me too!"

then something in the air shifts and he sniffles softly, gripping your wrists tightly. for the first time in your life, you feel fear. fear for your own life. fear that your darling husband inflicted on you.

"you're not leaving me."

...

"hey have you heard? apparently y/n hasn't been coming into the office lately... I'm worried for her."

"yeah... and i heard that her husband is visiting some rural area for a short getaway. my husband told me."

"i hope she's alright... she should go find him soon. how will her husband ever survive on his own? what if he gets ill?"

and accompany him you will.

for now, no one will ever bother you two ever again. man or woman, society and law alike. just two sould, far from everyone else. as it should be.

as it will always be.

[silent-stories]

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: When Noah was left alone to take care of his daughter about two years ago, he never thought he would find someone else he would trust enough to include in his little family. But things can change.

Tw: parent abandoning their child, fluff, angst

Series masterlist

The afternoon sun filtered through the living room window and cast a swath of gold over Noah's house. You were sitting crossed-legged on the couch, watching Luna play silently, her small hands precisely set her favorite toys in a small, neat row, where Mr. Flop, her favorite bunny, had proudly taken the central point, guiding whatever game was in her head.

You smiled at her concentration, something warm blooming in your chest.

She was a perfect blend of Noah's features, a mirror image of him in her own way. She had his warm, deep brown eyes with his same subtle almond shape, dark hair, with a way chubbier face.

Noah leaned against the counter in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee. Some brown locks fell over his eyes as they darted between you and his daughter in quiet contemplation and hesitation.

You could tell something was on his mind. It had been incredible between you and Noah in the past few months, but there was one part of his life he'd held carefully at arm's length: Luna.

That wasn't because he didn't trust you, you knew that. It was deeper than that, more complicated. He was protective of her in a way hard to explain unless you knew the full story, which he had only recently begun sharing with you.

It had been late one night, just the two of you curled up on his couch after Luna had gone to bed, when Noah first opened up about the relationship with his ex. In the beginning, it had been passionate-whirlwind-type love, felt like the kind that could move mountains.

But once Luna was born, everything shifted. She was never ready for the reality of being a mother, and slowly but surely, it dawned on him that with each passing day, she actually resented it. Noah tried to understand her, tried to support her in whatever way he could, but nothing seemed to help. The more he tried, the more she pulled away.

One night, Noah had come home to an empty house. No note, no explanation, just Luna, not even a year old yet, lying in her crib, and complete silence in every room. His ex was gone, had walked out on both of them, and though Noah tried to reach out, tried to get her to come back, she never did.

From that moment on, he'd vowed to protect Luna from anything or anyone that might hurt her. Or perhaps that was his way to protect himself, too.

You both were up late, the only sound in his living room coming from a small lamp in the corner of the room, its dim light.

Noah was sitting next to you on the couch, his back hunched and his elbows to his knees as he stared into the floor for thought collection. You knew he had been carrying something heavy in his head for quite some time.

"I never thought that I'd ever be a single parent," he said gruffly, as though the words hurt him to utter. "But then again, after what happened …I don't really see my life in any other way anymore. She is everything to me."

He stopped, rubbing a hand over his face, and in those eyes you could almost see his tiredness, not physical, but an emotional toll, when one carries so much on his shoulders alone. You said nothing, just let him work through the words at his own pace. You could feel his vulnerability hang between you like some fragile thing he was just willing to show you.

"I didn't have time to process what happened," Noah whispered. "One day I'm in this relationship and we're trying to make it work for Luna, and the next… she's gone. Just like that. I came home and she'd left. No explanation. No good-bye."

Your heart ached with the pain in his tone, even now raw with emotion.

“I didn’t know what the hell I was doing,”, he admitted, shaking his head. Just like that, it was him and Luna against the world.

"I was fucking terrified" he said, the corner of his lip curling up in a self-deprecating smile. "I had to figure out how to be a dad by myself, how to balance that with the band, how to be there for her when I was barely holding it together myself."

He glanced up at you then, his eyes warm with appreciation and a little fear. "She's the reason I'm so careful, you know? With relationships, with people in general. I don't ever want to bring someone into her life unless I am really sure."

He paused, his throat swallowing hard as his eyes drop once again to the floor. You could tell there was more he wanted to say, but it was hard for him to speak.

"I'm scared that…," he started, then had to force himself to continue, his voice faltering. "I'm scared that you're mad at me. Or disappointed, maybe. That I'm taking things too slow with you. That I haven't fully… let you in yet. It's not because I don't care about you, because I do. A lot. It's just—"

"Noah," you said softly, leaning in closer to him. "I'm not mad. I'm not disappointed. I get it, why you want to be careful. It's okay."

His eyes finally met yours, surprise flickering in them. He had been so consumed by his fear of messing things up that it hadn't occurred to him you might actually understand where he was coming from.

"You've been through much," you went on, your voice soft but clear. "And I get why you'd want to protect Luna. I'd be more concerned if you were being anything less than careful, honestly. It says how much you love her, and how much you want to do right by her. And I respect that, Noah. I'm not going anywhere."

He blinked, like he was trying to absorb what you were saying, his shoulders loosening as your words soaked in. You reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. His hand closed around yours, clasping at it like he was holding onto something solid for the first time in a long while.

"I can wait," you said with an even voice. "You need more time, I'm waiting. I do care for you, for both of you. And I don't want to make anything if you are not ready yet. What matters to me is that we're moving forward, even if it's slow."

Noah's breath slightly caught, emotion swelling up in his eyes as he continued to carry that weight for such a long time, terrified that by taking things slow, he was pushing you away, when all you wanted was to meet him where he was.

"I don't know how to do that," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I've been so scared of screwing this up, of screwing us up. But you… you've just been there."

You smiled softly and squeezed his hand. "You've been hurt, Noah. And it takes time to heal from that. I'm not here to hurry you or push you into something that you're not ready for. I am here because I care about you. And I care about Luna. I want you only to know that I'm in this for the long haul whenever you're ready."

He breathed shakily, his forehead leaning forward to rest against yours while his hand remained tightly wrapped around yours. You could feel the tension start to seep from him, replaced by a silent sort of relief that he didn't have to bear the burden of his fears alone anymore.

"Thank you." he whispered, his voice full of gratitude. "For understanding. For being… you."

You pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his lips, silently communicating that he had nothing to thank you for, that this was where you wished to be.

You saw Noah in all his completeness: a good father, a man who had been wounded but kept trying, learning how to trust once more. You were more than ready to wait for him to fully open up that part of his heart.

You sat in that silence, the weight of the past there still, yet lighter now. You knew Noah still had a really long way to go before letting go of all the pain he had been carrying with him, but you knew he was on his way. You would be here every step of the way, to build something real, something lasting, with him and with Luna.

Now, months after you and Noah had started dating, you were sitting in the middle of that guarded space he had created around her.

Now you knew why he was being so careful, why he had not pushed for more interaction between you and Luna.

She meant the world to him, and after all she had been through, he would never risk anything that could disrupt her life. But still, you waited. You had cared for Noah, and by that extension already cared for Luna, too. So you gave him the time he needed to let you in.

Today, though, there was something different in the air, something to let you know Noah was about to take a step forward.

"Hey," Noah finally said, breaking the comfortable silence that had overcome the room. He set his coffee cup down and rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous quirk you'd come to know well. "Can I ask you a favor?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Of course. What's up?"

He turned to Luna, still deep in her toys, and back to you again. He paused a beat, you basically saw the cogs turning as he picked his words with all care.

"The band's got a thing later today, just some planning stuff for the new album. I was supposed to go meet the guys, but…" He trailed off, gesturing toward Luna with a helpless look. "Usually, I ask one of them, but they are all busy today."

You chuckled softly at that, imagining Luna in the hands of Noah’s bandmates. As much as they loved her, you knew they weren’t exactly all equipped for child care even if you were sure they all deeply cared about her.

"So… you want me to stay with her?"

Noah nodded, his expression softening as he met your gaze. "Yeah. If you're okay with it. I mean, I know it's last minute and I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important, but—"

"Noah," you interrupted softly, standing up and walking over to him. You reached out, resting your hand on his arm. "It's okay. I'd love to stay with her."

He exhaled, the relief washing over his features, but there was still that damned hesitation in his eyes. You knew how big of a deal this was for him, trusting someone with Luna, especially after everything he'd been through.

"Are you sure?" he asked more quietly now. "I mean, she's really shy, with most people and with you too, and I don't want any of you to feel uncomfortable."

You smiled, leaning up to press a kiss against his cheek. "I'll be fine. We'll be fine. She just needs time, that's all. And I think she got her shyness from her dad."

Noah closed his eyes for a second, his head slightly leaned into your touch before pressing a gentle kiss against your forehead. When he pulled back, his eyes were different, warm and a deep well of silent appreciation.

"Thank you," he whispered. "This… this means so much."

Now, you were sitting on the floor, after Noah had gone off to his band meeting. At first, Luna had been quiet, keeping to herself to play with her toys, but bit by bit, she'd started to warm up toward you, like you'd wanted.

You leaned forward for Mr. Flop, the stuffed bunny, and held him out to her with a playing grin. "You think Mr. Flop needs some tea?"

Luna's eyes sparkled, a shy smile overspreading her face as she nodded vigorously. "Yes! He is very thirsty."

You laughed softly, watching her scurry over to her tiny plastic tea set. She first poured an imaginary cup of tea for Mr. Flop and then one for you. As she handed you the pretend tea, your heart swelled with affection for this little girl who was letting you into her world slowly, piece by piece.

"Thanks, Luna," he said, making a big show of taking a sip. "This is the best tea I've ever had."

She giggled, her cheeks blushing with pride. For several moments, the two of you played in comfortable silence, with her showing you through the rules of the tea party.

"You think Mr. Flop would like to go on an adventure?" you asked after some time, breaking the silence as Luna finished pouring more imaginary tea.

With eyes aglow with excitement, she said, "Yes! He loves adventures!"

"Okay, where shall we go?" you asked, leaning in conspiratorially.

Luna tapped her chin, and then a huge grin spread over her face. "The jungle! I love jungle! Dad loves jungle too! We have to find the lost treasure!"

You gasped melodramatically. "The jungle? Wait. Noah made you listen...nevermind. That does sound dangerous! You think we can make it?"

She laughed again, her head bobbing up and down quickly. "We can do it! Mr. Flop is very brave."

And then you both launched into your make-believe jungle adventure. The shyness had left Luna by now, replaced by a bubbly, fearless energy that took your heart soaring.

The front door creaked open a couple of hours later when Noah returned home, but you didn't notice him first, too caught up in the game with Luna sitting next to you on the floor.

Noah stood in the doorway, watching the both of you, and his heart swelled in his chest. He had always known you were special, knew from the moment he met you that there was something different about you, but seeing you now, playing with Luna, made him feel something he hadn't felt in years.

Love, not just for you, but for the idea of you becoming a part of him and Luna's lives in a deeper way.

When you finally saw him standing there, you smiled. "Hey, you're back!" you said. Noah nodded, stepping closer, his eyes soft. "Yeah, I'm back."

Luna ran to him and wrapped her arms around his legs as he scooped her up, holding her close to his chest for a moment before turning back to you. "You two seemed to have fun."

Noah had Luna in his arms, babbly excitedly about some "jungle adventure" and lost treasure. He listened intently, though his eyes never left you. There was something there in his gaze, something so raw and deep, that made your heart go racing. It wasn't the usual softness, the usual affection, it was heavier, like something nestled between you when nothing was said.

"We did," you said, smiling at Luna as she continued her excited recount of the day. "We found the lost treasure, and Mr. Flop was the hero of the day."

Luna giggled, snuggling into Noah's chest as she added her own details. "We were very brave, Daddy! Mr. Flop was so good at being quiet, and we didn't get eaten!"

Noah chuckled, brushing a hand through her hair as he kissed her forehead. "Sounds like you had quite the adventure."

"Yes! We had a lot of fun. And your friend is amazing. I want to play with her again. I think she is my friend too now."

Noah smiled, his brown eyes full of affection for the both of you. "I'm glad you made a new friend. We'll ask her again, okay?"

Luna nodded, her eyelids drooping as the excitement of the day finally started to catch up with her and she rested her head against the soft fabric of his dad's hoodie. Noah glanced at you over her head, a soft smile tugging at his lips once again.

"Would you like to help me get her ready for bed?" he whispered, and with Luna nuzzling her head into the crook of his shoulder, half-asleep.

You nodded, and your heart fluttered with the thought. This felt like some sort of minor but meaningful step in being included in the nighttime routine, part of something as personal and intimate as this.

All three went into Luna's room together. It was not a big room, but it was cozy with soft toys, bookshelves, and a little carpet that glittered from strings of tiny fairy lights.

Noah was soon to gently lay Luna down into her bed, and you sat down beside him, watching as he tucked her in, his hands moving with the sort of practiced ease that came from more than two years of being a single parent. You leaned over, setting Mr. Flop down beside Luna, who smiled sleepily as she cuddled the bunny close.

Noah leaned over her, placing a gentle kiss against her forehead with tenderness that would ache your chest. "Goodnight, sweetheart," he whispered into her hair. "I'll be right outside if you need me."

"Goodnight, daddy," she muttered the tone in her voice drowsy. Then her tiny eyes flickered open just enough to glance at you. "Goodnight Y/N."

You smiled warmly, your heart swelling in the simplest of words. "Goodnight, Luna."

After several minutes of quiet whispers and soothing reassurances, she fell asleep, her breathing evening into the quiet rhythm of her sleep. Noah leaned forward and pressed another soft kiss to her forehead before he eased himself up, motioning you to follow him from the room.

As the door is shut quietly behind you, he let out a very, very long breath, running his hand through his hair, leaning against the wall.

"Thanks," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "For sticking with her. For being so… incredible with her."

You shrugged. "She's a pretty amazing kid. It wasn't hard."

Noah turned fully toward you now, his eyes searching yours with a sort of intensity that hitched your breath. His hand rose and delicately swept a strand of hair back behind your ear, where it lingered on the side of your face. His thumb tracing the line of your jaw sent you leaning into his touch, your heart beating with each passed second a little faster.

"I never knew whether I would find anybody that could fit in this part of my life," he whispered, his voice not a decibel over a whisper. "With Luna, after what happened… I felt I needed to keep her world small, you know? Keep it safe. I didn't want to bring someone in that might hurt her."

His eyes welled with that same vulnerability you had seen before, and you knew how hard this was for him, to open up, to let you into this part of his life he had guarded so much.

"You don't have to worry about that," you said softly, laying your hand over his. "I would never hurt her. Or you."

Noe's thumb stroked over your cheek, his eyes sealing to yours in an tight seriousness, as if you were the only person existing. "I know. That's why I love you."

The words hung between you and him, heavy with tension. You couldn't breathe for a second, heart pounding in your chest as you tried processing what he just said. He loved you.

You hadn't expected it, not so soon, not in that moment, but the way he looked at you, the way he had been with Luna, it made sense. It wasn't just the two of them anymore; it was all three, the small family that had formed.

A soft smile overspreads your face as you looked up at him, your hand clenching a little tighter around his. "I love you too, Noah."

The relief in his expression was genuine, and for him at least, it was as though the weight had finally been pulled off his shoulders. He pulled you into his arms, and you wrapped yours around him, holding close as he buried his face in your hair, breathing you in like he couldn’t believe you were real.

And for a long time, neither of them said anything. They only stood there with each other, wrapped in their own warmth, and the silence just told it all.

Then Noah leaned back, just a little, just enough to look down at you. And then his eyes were deeper and surer.

"I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't met you," he whispered huskily. "I don't think I even knew how much I needed someone like you, not just for me but for Luna, too."

You reached up and brushed a thumb over his cheek. "You're an amazing dad, Noah. You've done everything right for her. But you don't have to do it alone anymore."

He closed his eyes, like almost to let your words sink in. Opening them a second later, there was something soft, something vulnerable, that made you want to pull him closer still.

"I don't want to do it alone anymore," he whispered with his forehead against yours. "I want this. Us. You and me, and Luna. I want a family."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you nodded, your voice barely louder than a whisper. "Me too."

Noah's arms tugged closer, his lips finding yours in a gentle unhurried kiss that felt almost like a vow, like a start, the type of kiss that spoke of love, of trust, of a future that finally was starting to feel real.

He drew back and his eyes shone bright now with a happiness in them that hadn't been there before. He reached down, took your hand in his, and guided you back onto the couch. You sat together in the quiet glow of the livingroom.

You knew you would have one of those movie nights where you definitely fall asleep in his arms on the couch.

Noah for once in a long while felt something he hadn't dared to believe in, peace. Peace in knowing that he didn't have to protect himself and Luna anymore. Peace in knowing he was finally able to let you in, fully without any fear.

You sat there, his arm around you, knowing this was only the beginning of something beautiful: a life no more his or yours, but one which both of you had started building together.

hello friends in my phone! would you like more parts of this? (｡◕‿◕｡)

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @mathfairchild1 @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lma1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme

TBAF Tags: @aubrey-melinoe

[gay-dorito-dust]

Will you do a scenario of how we’d meet Bill for the first time and what he would be like if you were sort of “friends”? 🙏

You were minding your business while walking through the woods of Gravity Falls, just needing a change of scenery and finding the woods to be the perfect place to do so with it’s mushrooms, flowers and the wildlife that crossed your path.

Everything was seemingly fine and not out of the ordinary until you started to feel like you were being watched from somewhere, you looked to see if you could spot anyone, but all you could see were birch trees that had markings on the bark that suspiciously looked like eyes. You were just about thinking of leaving until you heard a voice from somewhere.

‘Hey kiddo!’

You looked to the left, nothing

‘Other way kid.’

the to the right, nothing

‘Colder.’

Up? Nope, nothing.

‘You’re practically an human popsicle at this point.’

How about looking down? Still nothing. Now you were getting confused, scared and annoyed.

You heard the voice sigh and say ‘you’re starting to make me feel sad, here I’ll make this a little easier for you.’ Then before you could say anything, a small yellow triangle with one eye wearing a top hat and bow tie appeared before you.

‘It’s great to finally meet you y/n.’ It said and immediately you were freaked out.

‘Who are you and how did you know my name?’ You asked, uneasy.

‘The names Bill Cipher and I know lots of things, lots of things.’ Bill replied, shrugging. ‘Wanna see what I can do?’ He adds after a brief pause but before you could answer him, he held his hand out to a nearby deer as its teeth were taken out of its mouth and into his small hand in a neat pile. ‘Deer teeth for you kid hehe.’ He then chuckled as he dumped the pile of deer teeth into your hands.

You on the other hand didn’t find this funny and fought the urge to vomit as you offered Bill the deer teeth back. ‘Mind giving the deer its teeth back? I’m sure it has more use for them than either of us.’ You ask as Bill did as you asked and gave the deer its teeth back as it galloped off elsewhere, leaving you alone with the weird triangle in the woods. Everything that had happened within the past five minutes had been overwhelming for you, too overwhelming that you had to sit yourself down on the trunk of a fallen tree and put your head in your hands, muttering to yourself.

‘This isn’t real, this is all some weird fever dream or I’m tripping balls. There’s no other explanation.’

Bill only chuckled as he floated next to you and patted you on the shoulder. ‘There, there human I can reassure you that what you just saw was very much real.’

You looked at him from your hands, unamused. ‘You fucking suck at comforting people you know that?’

‘I think we’ll get along great!’ Bill chirped gleefully.

‘We absolutely will not.’ You replied but you had an inkling that your opinion on the matter didn’t matter.

Now onto how bill would be if you were sort of ‘friends.’

He’s got a weird way about showing his feelings in any capacity.

The little shit put rats, dead rats outside your door, spelling out your name on random ass occasions that made it look like to others that a) you were haunted or b) had a weird stalker who liked to form your name out of dead rats.

He doesn’t want you having friends outside of him because and I quote ‘I’m the only friend you need, why bother with anyone else. So don’t even try cuz I’ll be watching you.’

Will leave sticky post it notes anywhere and everywhere saying to get more silly straws or else he’ll find a way to possess you and make you do embarrassing shit. Ie: walk through town in your underwear, make you speak backwards, kick a child-

Bill was a brat and his pranks were often traumatic but apparently they were ‘light’ in comparison to the stuff he did to his other meat puppets. You didn’t ask any further questions about what he meant by that in fear that he’d show you one as an example.

You are probably the only person who bill has told about his secret technique with mascara and eyeliner, even seeing him do it once when he insisted that you had a ‘sleepover’ at your place. He even points the mascara brush at you warningly as he threatened that you were to never tell people about this or else.

His version of jealousy when he sees you spending time with others is to trash your house and try to act cute when you catch him in the act. You don’t fall for this and give Bill the silent treatment for the rest of the day as he practically lost his shit over your lack of attention.

Probably air horned you awake once.

Bill Wouldn’t tell you this but he make your enemies do stupid shit that resulted in their deaths, for fun he claims but he didn’t want his favourite meat sack to start leaking water from their eyes every time something went wrong in their life. So he just cuts them out in the most brutal way possible.

Bill was stuck to you like glue and there’s was no way to hide from him as he would ultimately appears where you are, even if you’re in the fucking shower, he don’t care.

Bill: *appears in shower* my favourite meat sack have you- stop screaming it’s only me, have you seen a king cobra anywhere, I must’ve dropped it somewhere here-

He probably once threatened you with the whole ‘steal your eyes’ thing like he did with Ford but you had witness enough of Bill’s behaviour to know that he was joking about that, to which he was proud and would magically make a cake filled with worms, bugs and other unpleasant things appear in celebration.

You may or may not have been sick that day.

Your and Bills friendship was weird, probably not the healthiest in all honestly and you should seek help and or maybe therapy for the shit he’s out you through.

You were his property, you were his pet, HIS MEAT SACK and you wouldn’t be allowed to go anywhere without him knowing and or being nearby in hopes of catching your eye.

Just a yellow triangle with one eye and a top hat and bow tie floating ominously in the background was enough to unnerve anyone.

You had no freedom as far as you were concerned in this ‘friendship’ but bill likes to claim that he has given you the most freedom out of anyone who has ever existed.

[chrissssssmut]

CLASSROOM 3-B

Vampire Ahn Yujin x Male Reader

It started with Lee Jiwon.

One day, she was there, laughing with her friends, tying her hair into a neat ponytail. The next day, she was gone. No message. No explanation. Just an empty seat by the window that no one dared to look at for too long.

The teachers told us not to worry. “She must have transferred schools,” they said. “Maybe a family emergency.” But no one had seen her leave. No one had heard from her since.

Then Kim Haneul disappeared.

By the third missing student, panic set in. Police officers swarmed our classroom, questioning us one by one. Had we noticed anything strange? Had they mentioned anything before they left?

I had no answers. None of us did.

And then it kept happening.

Every week, a girl from our class vanished.

The empty desks grew, the halls of our school became quieter. The teachers stopped calling roll. Nobody wanted to acknowledge the truth—our class was shrinking, and no one knew why.

At first, I convinced myself it was just a coincidence. Maybe they all had reasons to leave, reasons we just didn’t understand. But then I started noticing things. Small, unsettling things.

The missing girls all had one thing in common: before they vanished, they had all spent time with Ahn Yujin.

I didn’t want to believe it. Yujin was… different, yes. She had a presence that was both alluring and unnerving, like a beautiful statue that felt just a little too real. She was quiet but never shy, confident but never loud. She had this way of looking at you, as if she knew something you didn’t.

I had always liked her. Maybe that was why I ignored the signs at first.

But then I started piecing things together.

There was the way the missing girls were always last seen with her. The way she never seemed concerned, even when the rest of us were terrified. And then there was the strangest part—Yujin never ate at school.

Ever.

Lunch breaks, class parties, snack time—she always smiled and said she wasn’t hungry.

That alone wasn’t damning, but then I overheard a conversation between two teachers.

“She’s never sick, have you noticed?”

“She has perfect attendance, too.”

“And she doesn’t go on school trips. Not once in three years.”

I had never thought about it before. But once I did, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

That’s when I decided to investigate.

I started retracing the missing girls’ last known whereabouts. Checking places they used to go. Looking through old messages, old photos. And a pattern emerged.

They had all gone somewhere before they disappeared.

Somewhere after school.

Yujin’s house.

That’s how I found myself standing in front of her home late one evening, my hands clenched into fists, my heart pounding so loudly I thought she might hear it from inside.

Her house was nothing like I expected. No eerie mansion, no gothic towers—just a regular two-story house at the end of a quiet street. But something about it felt wrong.

The windows were too dark. The air too still.

I took a deep breath and stepped forward.

The front door was unlocked.

That should have been my first warning.

The second was the silence. No hum of a fridge, no distant sound of a television. Just stillness, pressing against my skin like a heavy fog.

And then, the third warning—

I found their things.

A dimly lit room at the end of the hall. Lockers stacked against the walls, each containing something chillingly familiar.

Jiwon’s school bag.

Haneul’s sweater.

and many other more things that definitely did not belong to Yujin.

A metallic smell clung to the air. A faint, sickly-sweet scent.

I turned to leave.

SLAM.

The door shut behind me.

The lock clicked.

And then I felt it—a presence. Cold. Watching.

I turned around slowly, my pulse thudding in my ears.

Ahn Yujin stood in the shadows, red eyes glowing like embers.

“You weren’t supposed to see this,” she murmured.

Her voice was calm, almost gentle. But there was something underneath it. Something dark.

“Yujin,” I breathed, my throat dry. “What did you do to them?”

She stepped closer.

“Why are you here?” she asked instead, tilting her head.

My feet refused to move. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to run, but I knew—I knew—I wouldn’t get far.

“I had to know the truth,” I said.

Yujin sighed, almost disappointed. “I liked you,” she admitted. “You were different. Curious. Kind.”

She was right in front of me now. Close enough for me to see the way her pupils dilated, the way her fangs glinted in the dim light.

“You should’ve just stayed ignorant.”

And then she was on me.

I barely had time to struggle before I felt it—her fangs sinking into my neck, piercing my skin.

A sharp pain, like fire, followed by something strange, something intoxicating. My head spun. My body shivered. It was like drowning in warmth, like falling into something I wasn’t meant to feel.

She pulled away suddenly, breath shaky. Her eyes were wide, her expression dazed.

“…You taste different.”

Her grip on me tightened.

I gasped, my vision swimming. “W-What…?”

Her lips parted slightly, as if she were trying to understand something herself.

Then she whispered, “I can’t let you go.”

Something in her voice sent a shiver down my spine.

My body felt weak, but I moved. My elbow jabbed into her ribs, enough to make her stumble back.

I bolted.

I barely made it three steps before I was yanked back.

Her strength was unreal. Inhuman. She threw me against the lockers like I was nothing. Metal bent under my weight, pain shooting up my spine.

I tried to crawl away, reaching for the door, but she was already there, watching me struggle.

Her expression was unreadable.

I lunged again, a last-ditch attempt at the window—

She caught my wrist.

Effortlessly.

My heart sank.

Yujin pulled me in, crushing me against her body. I could feel her breath against my neck, her voice a whisper, almost… sad.

“Don’t fight me,” she murmured. “You’ll only make it worse.”

I thrashed, punching, kicking, anything—

But her grip never loosened.

It was over.

Her lips brushed against my skin again, fangs teasing before she bit down—this time, slower. Deeper.

And suddenly, I felt my body give in.

My limbs grew heavy. My fight… disappeared.

My eyes fluttered shut as a strange, blissful numbness took over.

And then I heard her voice, soft and possessive.

“You’re mine now.”

And I knew I had lost.

[evilminji]

I got distracted, BUT I REMEMBERED!

The Dr.'s Fenton? Would ABSOLUTELY fight a child.

Specifically, Hatsume Mei. Future CEO of Hatsume Industries! And ENGINEERING RIVAL of their's! They may be new to this whole "support industy" business, but they are SEASONED weaponry makers! And that brilliant little upstart is good! Audacious! A THREAT!!!

COME GET SOME!!! D:<

See, they needed to Move. Things were getting a bit... spicy. They may have made so unfortunate choices, back before they knew the truth about their Son and Ghosts in general.

Ignorance, bigotry, and academic bias are curses in their house for a REASON, after all. They never thought... after all the DECADES of facing it themselves...

Well...

Needless to say, they were, are, and will always BE horrified by how they acted. There may have be a whole host of reasons behind WHY they acted that way. But those WHYs aren't good enough. They should have been better. Done better. They don't offer any excuses, but but they can give an explanation, if it's wanted.

And, together, as a family, they got through Maddie n Jack's horrifying mistakes.

God they don't deserve those kids. Love them to pieces. The things they don't warn ya about parenthood, you know? The mistakes you might make. You think you're ready. Think everything's alright. Then your life's work KILLS your son and brings him back.

And you don't notice.

......what sort of parents DONT NOTICE?

They still have nightmares. Feel sick. God, if they were working in ANY other field. With ANY other materials! If it wasn't SPECIFICALLY ectoplasm? He... he wouldn't have come back. Oh god.

........

So.... so, yeah.

They're working on some things! As a family! Seeing a therapist from the Zone. Lovely... Them? They're a tree person. Neither Jack or Maddie is quite certain what gender pronouns, if ANY, they are supposed to use. They've been defaulting to They/Them just to be safe. Still! Alien therapist! Neat!

But, of COURSE. The BABIES in White throw a FIT. "Wah, wah, wah you've been compromised blah blah blah" oh PLEASE! Just because they've had a little personal growth! And stopped shooting at Phantom in public! And in general! You shoot ONE little Goverment agent for trying to shoot your baby and suddenly YOUR the bad guy!

He didn't even die!

So, yeah, BIT spicy.

Honestly? Feels like a long time coming. They were never very popular. This ultimately just feels like the ends of a road that began in college. Them, the two "crazies" with their backs to the wall, as the government closes in, trying to tear them down for knowing the TRUTH and refusing to shut up about it. Their reputations so deep in the mud, they're tasting bedrock.

At least they are together.

And thank god they've had years to plan for the inevitable.

So? They have the kids grab their go bags and head off too stay with Danny's new celebrity friend from another dimension, Mr Wayne. Nice man, little dim, but since he's willing to open his home to the kids in case of emergency? Perfect. And frankly, as long as Mr. Pennyworth is there, everything will be fine.

Besides! Lil Damian is a very respectful and responsible young man. Tim and Danny may get up to mischief, but they can trust the youngest to put his foot down.

THEM on the other hand?

Not so lucky. THEY have to stay with the house. It's not exactky like they can move the portal after all, it's built in. And this is where the kids grew up! Where Jack and her scrimped and saved, lived out of cars and off nickle noodles, to afford! This is their HOME! And no jack booted THUG is going to take that.

So the kids go first. They go to the command center. Jack takes pot shots while she fires up... THAT machine. The one they wired into the house itself, right along with the Ectoplasmic Shielding. It was all theoretical, once. But not anymore.

Now they have The Zone.

It's been collecting energy runoff from the open gate ever since it opened. Siphoning them into the sub-basment mega batteries. Enough to run two-thirds the planet for the next half a millennia. If only the damn patent office would LET THEM PATENT THEIR WORK-!

But that doesn't matter anymore. No, what matters is checking how full the battery banks are. Decently. It HAS been a while since they've done a controlled drain. Good, that means they have more then enough.

So, with no kids to witness things getting nasty? She pulls out her keys and unlocks the parental commands, flips the the shields to "strobe-kill". Let's see you crowd us NOW fuckers. With Jack freed up to help aim the house? They set to work.

It's... not EXACTLY an exact science, as much as they'd prefer it to be. More of a controlled jump. Set preferences, power jump, hop sideways an unknown distance. Land. Look around.

Is it what you want?

Habitable?

A zombie apocalypse?

Jump again. And again. And again. Until the battery runs out. Then sit... or float...or drift, there, until the batteries refill. You have to be mindful, of course, that you don't lose Shield coverage. Because it keeps the House air tight and together. If you jump and immediately lose power to the shields because you misjudged the energy left in the batteries?

Better HOPE you land somewhere with a breathable atmosphere and no zombies!

And Fentons don't rely on HOPE! They rely on good ol firepower and hutzpa!

Also advanced ectoplasmic scientific engineering! But that was a given.

It... takes a while. They run out of canned peaches. Have to stop TWICE to help cure a zombie plague, since they are the only ones with a still working lab. They were actually sort of joking with the kids about the zombies. Oof. Good thing Ectoplasm eats EVERYTHING. One specialized ecto shot and that disease is TOAST.

Granted, the surviors are all limnal now. But they don't seem to care in the slightest.

Then there was the whole "oop! Planet's gone." Couple of worlds. The one with the crabs. The ocean one. The ice age. The robots. The cartoon horses. The inappropriately dressed high-schoolers with weapons fighting God. The boring one. The one with ninjas...

I mean, they are just NOT having any LUCK!

Okay, next moderately stable world, they are doing a groceries run! A Man can not live off freeze dried meals forever! Well, you CAN. But it's making Jack sad, and frankly that's a war crime. Plus she's run out of tea! AND coffee! A life of no caffeine? She can't endure that.

She's started to eye her son's God awful energy abominations in a can, for God sake! Desperate time's and all that...

Zyeyooom!

Thunk!

Which? Is how? The ENTIRE class of 1-H? Turns to stare in ABSOLUTE HORROR at the cackling, head thrown back, hands clawed, mad scientist "it's alive! It's aliiiiiiive" type insanity that is Hatsume Mei and her "this green goo I found from some guys Quirk" powered teleport anchor.

It MADE A HOUSE.

On SCHOOL FUCKING GROUNDS. An ENTIRE house! Is... is that a blimp? That's English right? What's it say?! What the FUCK is that sh- OH MY GOD ARE THOSE PEOPLE!? MEI!!!!!

So begins... the Fentons Beef With A Child™.

Because! Mei will forever more claim! That SHE brought them to this universe with HER magnificent machine! But Maddie and Jack? At first, trying to be nice about it, helpfully point out, actually? No. THEIR house can and does reality jump. THEY brought themselves.

Mei ignores them.

Crows about her magnificent machine. Scoffs about them thinks they haspd anything to do with it.

Oh... oh it is ON, you tiny pink haired little shit!

Does the Japanese Government want to take control of the situation? Of course they do. They want these scientists and they want that house. Local Nedzu's say? "It's nice to want things" :) *sips tea mockingly*

They landed on HIS school's grounds. Finders keepers!

You may say "threat to national security" but HE says "free support gear for the students and security for the school"! Not to MENTION all this delightful FREE clean energy! They are a delightful couple. With a portal to the fabric between realities in their basement!

Not found of the laboratory, but that's a personal issue. The ZONE however? Oooohohohohoho~☆

It? Would DRIVE THE HPSC and Japanese government BATSHIT INSANE that they can't get at the portal? That threats and stealth Heros and every other method? Just... hits a brick wall. A big ol "lol nope!" Meanwhile Nedzu and occasionally random teachers or students are popping in and out of this house they can get into?

Nedzu especially standing just on the other side of the shields going >:3 neener~ neener~ neener~ Ha ha! I could be mature about this but am CHOOSING NOT TO BE!

@legitimatesatanspawn @mutable-manifestation @hdgnj @hypewinter @babbling-babull

[starvu]

Romantic Lover || s. reid

spencer wasn't a fan of love at first sight until he saw the new employee at his favorite coffee shop. well, things can change throughout the seasons.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

genre: fluff

content warnings: none :))

word count: 2,9k

a/n: i'm just trying to write, my english is not perfect, i'm not native, but i hope it won't bother you :)) i came up with this completely by accident when i was listening to romantic lover from eyedress (i was trying to make it pretty, but using tumblr is hard lol)

She's a killer,

one look is all it takes.

He never believed in fate, destiny or anything like that, but this time it was different. He thought, that nothing can surprise him, especially when he was buying morning, too sweet coffee in his favorite coffee shop at some late autumn, nearly early winter day. There were no leaves left on the trees, but autumn was not over yet. Winter was around the corner.

But something was worng. In fact, everything was wrong. Because he hated being late for work, which was exactly what he did. And he knew his trusted barista at his favorite, cozy coffee shop, but he was nowhere to be seen then. He always had the confidence that his coffee would be solid, with no unpleasant exceptions. Spencer loved things that were unchanging, constant, and certain, so the chance of a bad coffee on an already rushed day seemed cruel. Cruel coffee, undersweetened coffee, too little cream in coffee, something is wrong with the coffee.

But his heart clenched as soon as he crossed the threshold of a familiar place and you turned to him.

"Hey, good morning." You said casually with your enthusiasm. You had this attitude towards every client, wanting to brighten their day in the morning.

There you were, smiling all the time, with your navy blue nails, funky jewellery and a light brown apron tied in a neat bow at the back. You seemed to have within you all the energy of the sun, shine and warmth and you smelled like coffee. He stared at you for a moment, a little dazed by you. He wasn't used to it, but he focused on your eyes, the loose hair that fell out of your hairstyle and framed your face, his gaze wandering stupidly for a moment. It didn't sit well with his penchant for things that were permanent or unchanging. You cleared your throat slightly, wanting to snap him out of his reverie so he could order.

"Umm, yeah, good morning..." He played with his fingers nervously, his lips pressed into a line as he pondered over ordering coffee, even though he drank the same one every day. It didn't escape your notice.

His reaction didn't scare you in the slightest, even if he wasn't as enthusiastic as you were. You nodded as he placed his order, staring at him with a genuine smile. All your little behaviors were natural, unforced. He was nervous, but he couldn't take his eyes off you. And yet, this was the first time he'd seen you, and instead of his favorite barista.

Spencer felt like an idiot. Ordering coffee wasn't even a problem for him, with his not-so-best social skills, but after the first look at her, his stomach clenched. You unconsciously stared at him with your typical warmth in your eyes, and he felt smitten. Your energy, warm eyes and smile were really enough, even if it was stupid. He was stupid in that moment.

Then even ordering coffee became difficult, more difficult than mathematical equations, chemical reactions and biological cycles, with whom he had contact so often.

You didn't want to make things even more difficult for him, despite your smile, you didn't engage in unnecessary small talk with him. Instead, you silently scribbled your phone number on his paper cup with your glitter gel pen, you even drew a little smile next to the note. There was no rational explanation for it, you were simply captivated by that man. You turned around, fiddling around with the coffee machines a bit. You were still studying after deciding to change the coffee shop you worked at. You quickly poured the brown, fragrant drink into a cup, pouring a little more sugar into it, just like he asked.

"I would advise you to slow down a bit." You said a little bit quieter, as you gave him coffee cup, put the money in the cash register and handed him the freshly printed receipt. "Be careful, it's hot." You added as you focused more on the cash register than on him.

"Uhh, thank you?" He answered a little awkwardly, but he kept staring at you. He walked away after that, glancing back over his shoulder. You were still there, smiling at another customer. Were you real? You didn't seem real. Were you nice to him specifically, or were you nice to everyone?

It was only after he left the cafe that he noticed the note and felt almost as if he had been shot. The neat, round letters, or rather numbers written on the warm paper cup made him feel dazed. You had simply noticed him, dear God. Something tempted you to leave a trace, to indicate to him that you want to contact him. You looked at him and made a few small gestures like smiling, it's not big deal, he shouldn't have panicked or felt like a lovesick teenager. But one look is all it takes.

She's a killer,

and she took my breath away.

He called you. He called you in that early winter, and the feelings in yours hearts blossomed with the blooming flowers outside the window.

One late spring morning he woke up as usual. He woke up, but the spot next to him was cold. When he fell asleep the previous night, this spot had been warm. The night before, you had dinner together after he got back from a case, and you were just laying around aimlessly, talking about unimportant things. You listened to his rambling with genuine interest. You never said it bored you, you actually loved hearing it, even if sometimes you didn't fully understand it and needed more explanation. But in that morning you weren't next to him. He looked around his bedroom from his heavy eyelids and immediately felt relief.

He saw you leaning over the dark brown dresser, on which you had placed a small mirror. You were taking out of your makeup bag various colorful makeup things and shiny earrings. You painted your eyes with glitter, but bright and subtle shadow, put blush on your cheeks and tried to choose the right earrings. You blinked to apply mascara and closed your eyelids to draw a perfect line. Your lips were parted in concentration, and then you hold the bobby pins between your teeth. You tied her hair in a bun, braided it, unbraided it, tied your hair half up, half down and twisted locks on your fingers, even if it didn't stayed.

He didn't think you noticed him watching you. In reality, he was pretending to still be asleep. He didn't want to embarrass you, his eyes were slightly squinted, still sleepy as he rubbed them with his hands. He watched you quietly, and even if you wasn't doing anything special, it took his breath away. In a very simple way, you focused on bringing your image into order and composition.

Spencer finally got out of bed quietly, the floor in his apartment was creaky but he remembered perfectly how to bypass certain panels to pass silently. He stood behind you as you sat in the chair, he lightly placing his hands on either side of you head and kissing the top of your head tenderly, feeling yoir soft hair under his lips. "Morning, sweetheart. Don't worry, you already look pretty." He mumbled softly into your hair as he rested his chin on the top of your head.

You felt surprised when you suddenly heard the words and felt warmth and closeness. You thought he was still asleep. He raised his head slightly, looked in the mirror, and noticed that you was glancing at him in the mirror's reflection. He felt his heart fill with affection every time you looked at him.

"You think? I think it's all... I don't know, weird today." You answered hesitantly as you stared at your face and hair. Your gaze was focused on your appearance, and your expression was a little doubtful. You didn't always maintain that cheerful energy. Spencer quickly took a few steps, circling you, and leaned over you. He kissed the tip of your nose and both of your eyelids.

“No, you’re beautiful, everything is okay.” He tenderly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

You smiled warmly at him. He leaned in behind you, his posture still sleepy, which you found to be an absolutely adorable and precious sight. He rested his head on your warm shoulder. He ran his fingers through your hair carefully as you continued to apply your makeup. He kept staring at you with genuine admiration. There was silence between them, a comfortable silence. He didn't say anything, taking in your appearance, the scent of your hair, and the warmth of your skin. Finally, he buried his head in the crook of your neck. You didn't have to say much to feel each other's feelings, carefully preserved and nurtured in the quietness and privacy of his apartment.

It was almost unbelievable how much he loved looking at you. He loved looking at you, he loved your personality, he loved everything about you. It almost hurt him. Your movements, how effortlessly beautiful you looked, even if you were indecisive about how you wanted to look that day and doubtful. It was almost unfair how you could take his breath away when you did nothing and didn't even try. He felt honored to be able to watch you in your quiet, peaceful moment. You just took his breath away every time, without asking his permission.

She's a killer,

romantic lover,

there is no other,

she is my lover.

With the end of spring came a warm and certain summer. Summer is always certain, warm, sunny and pleasant. Just as with each passing day the feelings between you became certain. Because spring feelings are shy, they are born like nature to life, leaves on trees and flowers blooming. But summer feelings arouse trust and conviction.

Despite this, Spencer wanted to keep your relationship private. No, he wasn't ashamed of you or yours relationship. Having learned from the past, he preferred to keep it to them, as your little secret. He wanted to separate his relationship from his professional life, not expose you to any dangers of his job, he didn't want you to be used as his weakness one day. In his eyes you deserved this whole world and all that was kind. You deserved all kindnesses.

Unaware of anything, Derek almost fought to finally find someone for Spencer. Because how long could the young genius be alone? But every excuse Spencer made just got worse and worse, after all, he was not a master of excuses. Well, he just didn't need anyone else. You were his lover. His precious and lovely, lovely girlfriend. He always told you about Morgan's failed matchmaking attempts and you just laughed at how absurd it was.

In one of those sunny summer days when they were working a case in D.C., they went to a coffee shop, Reid's favorite coffee shop on the street corner. Crossing the threshold of the familiar place, they immediately smelled the coffee, there were no more people there than usual. Spencer immediately noticed you behind the counter, smiling as usual, wearing long, white skirt and dark blue baby tee. You were focused on making coffee and taking orders, the light blue ribbon bow pinned to your hair moved slightly with each of your graceful movements. He partially held back a smile at the sight of you, and slightly felt a sudden shiver. When you noticed him, you frowned slightly. Was this his way of hiding his relationship? Coming there with a co-worker? You immediately recognized the man he came with - Morgan. From Spencer's stories and his ramblings, you knew all of his coworkers.

Derek immediately noticed you. If he was going to keep trying to matchmake his friend, he saw another opportunity. Seeing the woman effortlessly serving customers and moving between the coffee machines and the counter, the idea immediately popped into his head. It never hurts to try, right?

As they placed their order, your expression was unwavering, you leaned slightly over the counter with a smile, not even glancing in Spencer's direction, not wanting to arouse suspicion. Their relationship wasn't public, and it hadn't started long ago, only a few months earlier. But when Morgan moved from the subject of coffee to Spencer subject without hesitation, you tried to stifle your laughter. You could see Spencer's embarrassment, god, he hated it when Derek tried to set him up again. Why is he so stubborn?

You played along.

"Oh, really? I mean, I've seen him here many times, but I haven't had a chance to talk to him much. Tell me more about him." You spoke with conviction, and Spencer surreptitiously gave you a disbelieving look. "He's really that genius?" You still pretend. You had your back turned to them and made a few coffees.

You kept up your little act until the end. Partly because it was pretty funny, partly because you hadn't yet agreed on how they wanted to reveal their relationship. You were doing quite well, considering you were playing with a profiler, you didn't arouse suspicion. When you packed the coffees into cartons with handles that held four cups, and threw the stirrers and sugars into the net, you stared at the agents. After going through everything, you pointed to the paper bag. Without thinking, you began to speak. And then you let yourself down for such a simple thing.

"Oh, I threw in two extra packets of sugar for you, Spence. Normally I would just put more sugar in your coffee, but I assumed someone else might take it." You spoke with commitment as you put the cups of warm coffee into the second carton.

"Thanks." Spencer responded with little smile. Just like you forgot about Morgan's presence.

Derek just frowned, his gaze shifting from him to you. Since they barely spoke, like you said, why the sudden concern over something as simple as sugar in coffee? Strangers? Nah, not at all. Despite his confusion, he didn't try to push the subject. You exchanged a few more small, polite conversations with them before they left the coffee shop. Pretending you didn't know Specter was, ironically, quite good. Spencer glanced over his shoulder once more, and you waved at him with usual, warm smile.

The place of the case was not far, so they returned on foot. The summer sun was pleasantly warm, and the trees by the sidewalk cast shadows and a light wind. They tried to walk as fast as they could, but for Morgan there were interesting and more interesting cases.

Derek immediately looked his way, his expression still questioning. “Okay, pretty boy, what’s this about?” He asked directly. Of course, subtlety wasn’t his strong suit.

“What’s this about, what?” Reid asked with obvious embarrassment.

"The woman. The woman from the coffee shop. Don't tell me every coffee shop employee remembers you that way. 'Spence, I threw more sugar for you." His words were all direct, unvarnished. He kind of imitated your sweet voice when he said words similar to yours, teasing Spencer.

"It's... well... she- let's just not talk about it." Spencer responded with a more hesitant, uncertain tone. He didn't know that this was how their relationship would see the light of day, but their visit to this coffee shop had to end this way, he could feel it.

"Why not, what could be so terrible about it?" Morgan asked. He sensed Spencer's nervousness and this was the perfect opportunity to tease him.

Spencer felt like his back was against an imaginary wall. All the explanations seemed awful now. Besides, he had so many excuses lately. And yes, he was running out of excuses. But now he didn't have to defend himself so fiercely. Usually he had to say no, because his friend wanted to put another woman in front of him. But now he wanted to put you in front of him. Was it possible to set Spencer up with his own girl? He quickly reminded himself that the question still remained unanswered. Usually he had a million words and two million thoughts a second. But now it was all for nothing. It was always like this when it came to you, you were the killer of any ability he had to speak or think. He swallowed hard.

"Don't be surprise, okay? I don't need it. It's, uhh... She was- I mean she is- Of course she is, not was, my girlfriend. But technically speaking, I prefer to say that I'm her boyfriend and not that she is my... girlfriend." His explanations became a bit convoluted, and he started babbling a bit out of nervousness.

Morgan didn't take his eyes off him, his sudden statement was... surprising to say the least. When had he managed to find himself a girlfriend and hide her and their relationship so well without arousing any suspicion? "Girlfriend? Real girlfriend? Look at him." He patted him on the back in a brotherly gesture, and Spencer just bowed his head with a sheepish smile. "For how long? Why didn't you tell anything?"

"Oh no, don't interrogate me."

"I'm not."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I'm not."

"Come on, pretty boy. Talk to me... or rather lover boy." He laughed and pat his shoulder with his free hand. Oh god, he loves to tease him.

Spencer sighed. "Yes, real girlfriend."

"No need to be embarrassed, that's good, really good. So no more matchmaking?"

"No, no matchmaking, ever." He still smiled sheepish. Spencer didn't want anyone else, he didn't want matchmaking, he didn't want to look for anyone else, when he had you. There is no other, you are his lover.

[maybege]

The App - Part 2

Summary: You know who your perfect-match alpha is and it is not the guy from The App.  

Pairing: alpha!Boba Fett x fem!omega!Reader

Wordcount: 11.0k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Modern AU, A/B/O dynamics (scenting, knotting, etc.), older man/younger woman, implied age gap, explicit sexual content, unprotected sexual intercourse, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, slight (loving) degradation, semi-public sex, creampies, size kink, fluff fluff and more fluff

So … this second part kind of exploded which is why it took me so long to actually finish it lol but I hope the wait will have been worth it for you because ngl I am just swooning over alpha!Boba. Also I placed a little Easter Egg in here for another upcoming fic so bonus points to anyone who finds it 👀 Either way, I hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think in a comment or a reblog!  

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

It was two weeks – and no phone call – later, that you decided to take matters into your own (nervously trembling) hands.

Boba thought he didn’t have to call you? Great. But you would not let him think that you were not interested, because you were. He was the one who had shown you what it could feel like to be loved by him and you would not let him ghost you without any explanation.

And if you so happened to want to give Josh back his jacket he had forgotten at your place and you needed to visit him at work for that? Well, then it would just be the most fitting coincidence if Boba was there too.

It was your luck that the receptionist, Peggy, recognized you from the few times you had visited Josh at work and simply waved you through to the elevators. No questions asked.

The doors slid open and you were faced with an empty floor and your heart plummeted. You stepped outside, letting your eyes roam over the open office space. But except for a few people you did not recognise, no one was there.

Shit. So much for coincidentally crossing Boba’s path.

You gripped the jacket tighter, fighting the insecure thoughts in your brain. So Josh was not here. That still meant you could leave the jacket and maybe write a quick note for Boba, just to let him know you were here and open to talk.

Maybe it was better this way. What were you going to say when you met Boba anyway? “Hi, sorry to show up unannounced but you said you would call and you didn’t and I’d very much like for you to call me.”? Yeah, no, that would not do.

Josh’s desk was as empty as always, particularly neat and void of anything that would make it seem remotely personal. You scoffed. How The App could have presumed you were the perfect match, you would never understand. You only regretted it had taken so long for you to see it.

You shifted on your feet, unease filling you at the thought when your eyes fell to the office at the end of the room. Just a few desks separated you from the glass-walled office that Boba inhabited during his work days. And that Boba was sitting in, right now, his phone by his ear.

It seemed he had not noticed you yet but your heart started racing all the same. This was your chance, this was the moment you had to use or else you would beat yourself up over it forever. This could give you clarity.

Taking a deep breath, you set a determined pace to the office, only to falter when he suddenly looked at you. You could not hear what he was saying but you could see the way his entire body shifted. How he paused his words, his eyes running over your form before hanging up, his hand gripping the phone tightly.

You opened the door without knocking and Boba stood up, his eyes still on you. He wore a black suit and with the way it clung to his broad frame, you were convinced that it had been tailored just for him.

“Hi,” you said breathlessly, “Is Josh here?”

“No,” he said, still standing behind his desk, “He is gone for lunch. They all are.”

“Oh,” you said dumbly, “Okay.”

Neither of you moved.

“I, uh, I brought his jacket,” you said, holding up the piece of clothing as if he would not believe you otherwise.

“I can see that.”

“I, uh, can I leave that here?”

“No.”

You faltered, “No?”

“I mean, you can, just not in my office, please,” he said, stepping around his desk. You could not help but swallow, trying to brace yourself for his proximity. His words did not seem inviting but there was something in his scent, something in his eyes, that had you hoping still.

So you took a step forward, a step closer, and you could see his hand flex and his jaw twitch. His eyes darkened and then he was in front of you, his chest brushing against yours and it was all you could do not to lean into him and beg him to scent you again.

Stars, did you want him to scent you again.

“Don’t you want to know why?”

At this point, you could not have cared less about Josh’s stupid jacket but there was no way you would not use it as a reason to stay. Even if it was just for a minute, for a second, longer in his presence.

“Why?” you breathed, taking in his scent, eyes already half-hooded at the familiar smoky scent.

“Because I don’t want anyone’s scent in here but yours,” he answered, just as quietly, “Omega.”

Omega is not an insult, it is a love confession.

The blood was thrumming in your veins and you wanted to tell him everything. You wanted to tell him you loved him, you were pretty sure you did. And you wanted to ask him to scent you. And you wanted to tell him about how he was right, that Josh was a horrible match and The App was wrong and maybe he was your match.

No, not maybe. He looked at you so softly, so tenderly, it confirmed what your heart had known all along. He was your match.

But all you got out was a helpless whisper, “Alpha.”

As if it was even possible, his eyes got more intense, boring into yours as if to say I know.

“You did not call,” you said, almost accusatory as you watched his fingers brush over the back of your hand, “I thought maybe – maybe you don’t want me.”

“There is no universe in which I do not want you,” he murmured, his nose brushing your temple and his hand wrapping around yours, “I wanted to give you time. I didn’t … want to force you into something you might not be ready for.”

“I had no way to contact you,” you whispered, “I was so stupid, I just deleted all the groups when I broke it off with Josh and – what?”

“Nothing,” Boba said innocently but when you looked up you could see his mouth twitch in a suppressed grin.

“That’s not nothing,” you pointed out, narrowing your eyes in suspicion.

“I didn’t know you had broken off things with him,” Boba stated, his smile widening, “Josh may have announced that he was the one who ended things.”

Say what now?

Your displeasure only grew because Boba chuckled again, a deep rumble in his chest that made you feel all warm and tingly and you leant into him, effectively hiding your frown. It was not that you particularly cared about Josh or how the world would see the end of your relationship. But hearing that he was evidently too ashamed to tell the truth about the end of your relationship just made you angrier because it showed the kind of person he had been all along. And you had been too blind to see it.

“I knew it was a lie all along,” he assured you quietly, his warm hand running down your back, “No alpha in their right mind would ever let you go. And I am pretty sure most of the others thought so too.”

“I don’t care what they think,” you answered truthfully and looked up at him. He was so close this way and you could see that he must have shaved this morning because the stubble was almost non-existent and you wondered if you could still feel it if he were to kiss you. “I only care what you think.”

“I think,” he murmured, his breath mingling with yours, “You should get that stinking jacket out of here and then come back so I can kiss you, omega.”

“You want to kiss me?”

You hated how surprised you sounded, how eager, but Boba did not make fun of you. His face looked dead serious and your heart skipped a beat. This man wanted to kiss you!

“Actually,” he said, straightening up and looking to the elevator where a few employees had come back from their break. You did not recognize them but you knew it meant it would not be long until familiar faces returned from their break. And you did not want to see them. “Did you have lunch yet?”

You shook your head.

“Let me take you out, then,” he suggested, seeming as put together and in control as always as he quickly went over to his computer and typed something, “Italian sound good?”

The smile appeared on its own on your lips and you felt like your feet no longer touched the ground, you were that happy.

“Italian sounds great.”

*

There was something to be said about Boba leading you through the city with his hand on your lower back like it belonged there. Like you belonged next to each other.

“Table for two,” he had told the maître d’ at a fancy-looking place you never would have considered for lunch. Suddenly you found yourself grateful for the fact that you had dug out your most beautiful winter dress for the day and the boots you had spent a whole movie on cleaning so they looked brand new.

You were sat at a slim booth, facing each other and your heart skipped a beat when you crossed your legs and your foot accidentally brushed against his slacks. You were so close.

Boba rumbled, eyes dark while he looked you over, his gaze lingering suspiciously long on your neckline that dipped a bit lower than what you usually wore. “Thank you for letting me take you out,” the alpha said, “I really appreciate getting to spend time with you.”

“I enjoy spending time with you, too,” you mumbled, avoiding his intense gaze by folding open the menu, “Though I wouldn’t have expected it when I first met you.”

The laugh he let out made your heart flutter (He sounded so happy!). “No, I hadn’t suspected it either,” he admitted, “If I recall I called myself an old man no one would ever want that day.”

“You are not that old!” the protest slipped off your tongue immediately and you felt your cheeks burn when he raised his eyebrow in a challenge.

“I am, though,” he said without any heat, “But at least I can say that it makes me better at some things.”

“Like what?”

He leant forward, his voice dropping to a low rumble that you felt reverberating in your chest, “Like I am better at making you come than all these boys on that app these days.”

All air left your lungs in a woosh and you swallowed harshly, trying to get your bearing and ignoring the sudden urge to press your thighs together. Or open them for him. Both sounded good at this point.

“Oh,” you breathed, your foot landing against his calf. It did not turn into anything sexual per se but the contact was enough to have your heart skip a beat. The tension was palpable between you and you wondered how you could have ever thought he was unbearable when he could make you flustered this easily.

“You probably are,” you replied quietly, your cheeks burning at your confession, “I have never felt like this with anyone. So … so on edge.”

“On edge, hm?” he smirked, leaning even closer, “I really wish I could sit next to you, omega, I want to see how close I can get you by just teasing that scent gland of yours.”

“Me too,” you whispered, taking a sip of your wine in the hopes of cooling down, “I really want you to scent me again.”

Boba did not say anything but demonstratively put his hand on the table palm facing up and open. You followed his silent instructions and put your hand in his, immediately enjoying the gentle skin-to-skin contact.

His thumb brushed over your wrist and your entire body shuddered. This was what you needed.

“Better?” he asked, his voice deep as his thumb carefully ran over your scent gland over and over again. The ones on the wrists were not as sensitive as the one on your neck, they never were, but it was enough, still, to have him gently scent you out here in the open for anyone to see.

You did not know what surprised you more: How much your body seemed to crave his touch or how he did not seem to mind to scent you in public. Your previous partner had always refused to actually scent you – it was just not something they wanted to do. But here was Boba, looking at you with so much tenderness and scenting you in plain sight. Not ashamed of you in the least.

“What do you want?”

I want you to fuck me.

“To eat,” he added with a mischievous glint in his eyes, obviously recognizing the needy look in your eyes, “Because that waiter looks like he is ready to come over and I know how nervous you get about ordering.”

Your heart grew in size. He knew you so well, this quiet man who seemed to notice all the things you needed and was not afraid to point them out to you. But that realization did not help you when it came to the ache between your legs because he knew you so well and you just wanted to have him in your bed to try out all the fantasies your head could come up with.

“The – the pasta,” you finally found your words, your heartbeat picking up at the thought that maybe he would stop scenting you now that a witness would be here, “Please don’t let me go, alpha.”

“Never,” he vowed, “The ravioli, you mean?” he guessed, coaxing another sigh out of you when the pad of his calloused thumb drew a circle over your wrist, “With the cherry tomatoes and the basil reduction?”

You nodded with your eyes closed, completely letting yourself enjoy the way he touched you, the way he caressed you. “Yes, that one.”

The waiter came by and Boba ordered for you both, still holding your hand and the waiter did not even spare a glance at the way he touched you. You had spent so many years afraid of what the world would think when you were so obviously treated as an omega in a relationship. Spoiler alert: They did not care. And it was glorious.

“Now only one question remains,” Boba said with a smile when your food arrived, “Can I take you out for dinner sometime? On a proper date?”

*

A few days later, a knock on your door drove you into a flurry. You counted until six in your head before you opened the door, pretending like you had not waited in the hallway for ages for him to show up. Not because he was late, no, Boba Fett was punctual as always, but because you could not wait for this evening to start.

This date today was something you had looked forward to ever since he had called you and officially asked you out. (“There is that lovely little place down by the river,” he had said, “My friend owns it and I could get us a table with the best view. What do you think?”)

Now, Boba Fett was standing in your doorway, looking even more handsome than usual, in dark slacks and a white button-down with the top button undone, revealing a little bit more of his chest. He looked serious, just as much preoccupied with looming at you as you were with looking at him. Which meant that it took both of you a moment to realise that he was holding a colourful bouquet of flowers in his hand.

“Forgive my distraction,” he said, “You look stunning.” He held up the flowers, their scent floating between the two of you, “Here. For you.”

You were sure the smile on your lips could not get any brighter as you accepted them, your fingers brushing, “Thank you. Let me get them in some water. Wanna come inside?”

He hummed, following you into your tiny and cluttered apartment.

You tried not to look back at him and gauge his reactions. You liked to describe your apartment as cosy and homey and, yes, maybe a teeny tiny bit cramped. You had never been one for the minimalistic way of life and your apartment reflected that. There were pictures and books and trinkets everywhere, your fridge was covered in magnets from your travels and postcards from your friends and family.

It was no surprise, in hindsight, that Josh had not liked your place at all and he had not shied away to articulate that out loud. Several times, in fact, until you had just resigned yourself to the fact that you would stay over at his place and your souvenirs would have to live the rest of their lives in storage boxes.

But this was your home. It was you. Which is why it was more important than anything to you that Boba liked it.

Boba was too good a man to criticize your place openly, you knew that. But you still could not resist glancing at his broad form in the living room while you filled the vase with water.

“What do you think?” you asked, hoping to hide your nervous undertone when you set the vase down on your kitchen table. You could not wait to wake up each morning and be greeted with the sight of the flowers your favourite alpha had gotten for you.

“Feels like a home,” he said, running his fingers over a stack of books that had no space in the bookcase, “Feels like you.”

His words were soft-spoken and sincere and you watched as his gaze roamed over your apartment. The couch with the sunk-in cushions where you always sat, the mess of books and notepads and remotes on your coffee table, all pulled together by the singular scented candle you treated yourself to once in a while. The walls were covered with pictures and prints of your travels (or the places you wanted to travel to) and your friends and family peppered in between.

It did feel like you. And when he said it, it sounded like a compliment.

“Thank you, alpha.”

His head shot up and, in his eyes, you could see the thoughts he had. If calling someone omega was a love confession, what did it mean to him to be called alpha?

He crossed the few steps that were between you before he cupped your face in his hands and pulled you in for a kiss. It was soft and gentle and so full of love it made your heart swell. His scent was in your nose and the stubble on his jaw rubbed over your skin, making you want him even closer.

“Let’s go, omega,” he whispered against your mouth, “Or else we will be late and Paz will have my head.”

“If you say so,” you grinned, “Lead the way, alpha.”

*

Hours later, you still were not ready to say goodbye.

You had talked and flirted and laughed and eaten and now, Boba had driven you home, parking a few blocks away with the insistence that he should walk you home. You had accepted with a smile.

“So,” he started, casually walking alongside you, “How was it for a first date?”

You hummed, pretending to mull over your answer as if it weren’t incredibly obvious. The streetlights illuminated the sharp lines of his face, the profile of his nose, his full lips, and the twinkle in his eyes as he glanced at you like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“It could have been worse,” you teased him, “I don’t think it was the worst first date I have ever been on.”

Boba chuckled, coming to a stop in front of an entryway that looked like yours. Your heart fell at the thought of having to leave him. If it were up to you, this night could go on forever.

“Not the worst first date,” he quoted you, his grin lighting up his whole face, “I count that as a win. Besides,” he turned, facing you, “The most important thing is whether you would go out with me again. What do you think?”

“I would,” you murmured, entirely too fixated on how close he was and if you could get him to kiss you again, “Of course, I would, Boba.”

The silence between you two was comfortable but you could not feel like time was running away from you two. So you blurted out the first thing you could think of.

“Do you want to come up for a coffee?”

“You don’t drink coffee,” he reminded you with a little smile, “You told me that tonight, remember?”

“Oh,” you had forgotten about that, “You know I wasn’t really asking you up for a coffee, right?”

“Hm,” he said, stepping closer to you and you did not shy away. His eyes roamed over your form. His hands were still in his pockets and he was looming over you, his breath washing over your face. “You know there is nothing I would love more than to come up for … not coffee”, he winked and you smiled, “But this is our first date and I – I want to do this right and proper. So, no coffee tonight, little one.”

“Oh well,” you pouted, your hand reaching out to tug his hand out of his pocket. Boba smiled and followed your lead, his hands leaving his pockets and landing on your lower back, pulling you against him. “Your good night kiss will have to make up for that disappointment then.”

His nose brushed against yours and the familiar excitement built up again in your belly at the prospect of kissing him. “I guess I will have to work really hard for it,” he joked quietly before he closed the distance between you.

The kiss started soft and gentle, his mouth moving against yours, slowly coaxing you open. But it did not take long before you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into you. It did not take long before his tongue mingled with yours, his teeth brushing over your bottom lip and one of his hands wandering to your ass, slightly squeezing.

It was when the slightest of moans left your lips that he pulled away from you, your body instantly missing his touch.

“Dinner, then?” Boba asked, his breathing slightly laboured, “Next week?”

*

You did not make it to dinner.

And you hated yourself for it.

But whatever flu had caught you, it had caught you good and as you drafted the text to Boba, cancelling the dinner date you had spent the last week looking forward to, you felt like crying out of pure frustration. But there was no way you were able to leave your apartment today.

So you did the only thing you could. You planted yourself on the couch, curled up with a heated blanket and too many mugs of tea and set your timer to when you could take the next painkiller to keep the migraine at bay. You could not even focus on the old sitcom that you had put on in the background, instead just dozing on and off and trying to find a position that did not make every single muscle in your body ache.

It felt absolutely miserable.

A knock on your door got you up and you trudged to the door, hoping that it was just one of your neighbours with a package that got misdelivered. Stars knew you weren't up to anything else.

“Boba,” you mumbled, completely confused at the sight in front of you, “Did – did you not get my text?”

He stood in front of you, dressed in jeans and a shirt made from a material so soft, your fingers itched to touch it. “I did,” he confirmed, holding up a white plastic bag that smelled divine, “So I brought you some soup.”

That was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you.

You wanted to tell him that but somehow, your tongue refused to move and the words would not leave your mouth. You just stared at him, tears brimming in your eyes as you looked at this alpha who did not seem to be angry at you at all for ruining his plans.

“Will you let me come inside?” his voice was gentle and caring, “I can heat up the soup and make you some tea. And then I can get out of your hair and let you rest.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” you found your voice again, happy that you managed to express at least this one thought, stepping aside to let him in, “Th-thank you for coming, alpha.”

You watched as he set the food down in the kitchen before coming into the living room, taking in the damage. The pity was clear in his eyes and you felt a little ashamed at him seeing you so out of control. Everything was a mess and there were used tissues lying everywhere, your laundry had not been done for a week and the dishes were piling up in your sink. Not to mention that you had not managed to gather the strength to take out the trash which was why your kitchen was currently a No Zone for you.

But none of that seemed to interest him.

“Have you been sleeping on the couch?” he asked finally, his brows furrowed as he took in the haphazardly thrown blankets on the sofa.

You shrugged, tugging on your sleeves. You would have to change your shirt soon, the fabric felt unusually scratchy today and it made you want to crawl out of your skin. ”The bed feels cold,” you tried to explain, “And – and the pillows don’t sit right. And I’m too sick to – “

“Make a nest,” Boba realised, his eyes softening, “You’ve been needing a nest all this time, ‘mega?”

You nodded, avoiding his eyes and bracing yourself for the rejection that you would inevitably see in them. So far, Boba had proven different from Josh in every way, different from all the other alphas in every way. And while you knew that your brain was most probably playing tricks on you, you felt too miserable to stop the intrusive thoughts that tried to tell you that this would be the point where he realised that being with an omega – being with you – would be too much work.

“Do you want me to help?”

Your head shot up and you were unable to hide the surprise on your face. But the look on his face was sincere as he looked at you, expecting your answer.

This was one of those moments, you realized, where you could accept what the universe – Boba – offered you. Even if you had never experienced it before. Careful not to jostle your head too much, you nodded and made your way to your bedroom, hearing his footsteps behind you.

The curtains were still drawn but with how bright it was outside, one could still see the half-finish nest you had attempted to build on your bed. It just looked sad now, the twisted blanket and the pillows you had half-heartedly thrown on top of it.

But with Boba behind you, it just felt incomplete and you realized what you had been missing. “I – I want it a little bigger.”

“How much bigger?”

Big enough for you to join me.

But the words remained unspoken as you focused on pulling the blankets apart, getting a bigger circle shape to fill out the entire space your mattress offered. If you pulled it just this way, then you could have –

“Do you have some extra blankets I should get you?” Boba asked from where he had been standing on the opposite side of the bed, carefully copying your movements. You liked the look of his big hands touching the materials of your nest, colouring them in his scent. Maybe, if you were lucky, he would stay long enough that his scent lingered even after he left.

You nodded, pointing to the closet next to the door where you stashed your extra pillows and blankets. The kinds that were always freshly washed and soft enough that you endured them even in your heat. Now, you felt hot too, but in a sick kind of way and your head was thrumming with pain.

Deep down, you knew you should rest. You knew it would not be long until the dizziness set in or the itchiness of the fabric made you want to cry. But Boba was there and he had seen the mess and you did not – you swallowed harshly, your hands starting to tremble – you could not bear if he left now.

“Omega,” Boba rumbled upon his return, clearly having noticed your distress, and your hands stilled at the strict tone in his voice, “Let me take care of this.”

“Don’t want you to work,” you mumbled as you pushed the circle a little wider, “I promise I'm not that much work.” You looked up at him, your voice earnest and your eyes tearing up and you cursed yourself for how weak Josh had made you, how weak you felt at having to face the fact that Boba Fett meant more to you than you had wanted to admit.

His face fell at your words and you could feel the tears threatening to spill.

The blankets fell into the space of your nest, freshly washed and smiling of your favourite laundry detergent. But you could not focus on them now. Not when he made his way around the bed to you until he was right in front of you, the heat of his body seeping into yours.

“Omega,” he whispered, his hands cupping your face. They felt cool against your skin and sighed in relief, your eyes closing, “You are sick, my omega,” he repeated, “You are not too much work. I want to help you. Please, lie down in your nest and let me help. Let me take care of you.”

You hesitated for a second, the demons in your head still whispering about whether or not he was telling the truth. But one look in his warm eyes and you knew he was and you knew you could trust him.

Boba only let go of you once you nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead before helping you straighten out the blankets. “Here is what we are going to do,” he said, his voice warm and gentle, “I will help you make the nest and then you will lie down and take a nap, okay?”

“And you?” you asked unsure, fluffing a pillow in the corner, already imagining yourself and Boba lying down right there.

“I will take care of a few things and then we will see what you need.”

His voice did not leave much room for protest and if you were honest with yourself, you did not want to protest either. Taking a nap in your nest sounded like a dream and having Boba close by? That was even better.

It did not take long after that before your nest truly looked like your nest. The blankets and pillows were arranged in a perfect circle, high enough for you to lean against them and your favourite blanket was folded inside, too, ready to cover you whenever you needed.

“I will leave you to it, omega,” Boba murmured, his hand gently running over your back before disappearing into the hallway.

Only after you heard him cluttering around somewhere, did you take off your leggings, feeling positive that he would not leave. After a bit of thinking, you took off your panties too. You changed into your sleep shirt, the one thing that felt soft against your skin and it was long enough to cover your ass, too. The only things you kept from your original outfit were the fuzzy socks. Just at first until you could feel the cold leave you.

Lying down in your nest was just as glorious as you had expected and you dozed off in no time. The little sounds from the depths of your apartment and the dimmed sunlight through your curtains paired with Boba’s lingering scent on your blankets resulted in your body feeling relaxed and pliant for the first time in three days.

You did not know how much time passed but by the time you opened your eyes again, you felt much better and Boba stood by your bed.

He carefully arranged the pillows around you, making sure they were as fluffy as possible and you smiled when his hands lingered on your shoulders. “Is that okay?” he asked, “Are you comfortable?”

“Perfect,” you mumbled, reaching your hand out for him, “Do – Will you join me?”

The large man smiled, his voice still careful as he pulled the curtains closed. “I would love to, omega, what's the dress code?”

“Shoes off,” you ordered with a weak smile, “And the shirt, too. And the belt.”

He hummed and you did not have to see him to know he was smiling. You watched with interest as his hands went to the bottom of his shirt, more and more tan skin revealed to you as he pulled it over his head. It was the first time you had seen him like this and your heart skipped a beat at the thought that maybe it would not be the last time.

“Like what you see?” he joked, his hands going to his belt and you bit your lip, your eyes not leaving his body as he crawled into bed next to you. He pulled a soft blanket from somewhere, covering you both with it and you sighed, shuffling closer to him.

The alpha’s arms went around you, holding you to him so you could tuck your face into his neck, breathing in his comforting scent and enjoying the sheer touch of him against you. While the silence between you felt comfortable and you found yourself thinking that you could stay like this forever, you also could not shake the little bit of nervousness at this new position you found yourself in.

“I have never shared my nest with anyone,” you confessed into the crook of his neck, “I – I don’t know if I am doing it right.”

“It feels right, doesn’t it?” he asked you gently, his hand holding the back of your neck firmly. You closed your eyes, giving you some relief from the strain behind your eyes. His finger started moving, gently and slowly massaging the back of your neck.

He was right. It did feel right.

“If it helps, it is my first time in an omega’s nest as well,” he replied and you hummed. “No, that’s a lie,” he added after a moment of silence, his hand movement never ceasing, “I was in my mother’s nest a few times when I was very little.”

“A few times?” you asked, remembering how you had spent entire weekends as a toddler with your parents in their nest.

“I have a lot of brothers,” he revealed, “Like a ridiculous amount, really. It was sometimes a fight to get in there, you know? Not that it made me feel any less loved.”

You smiled at the thought of a young Boba toddling around with his brothers in a big nest.

“It sounds nice,” you murmured, running your hand over his chest. You focussed on the warmth of his body, the way his skin felt under your fingertips and how you could feel his heartbeat.

“It is,” you could feel him nod, “Family reunions are a nightmare though. Pure chaos.”

Your laugh got stuck in your throat when his nose brushed over your neck. His breath washed over your scent gland and you could feel how your body attuned to him.

“This is nice, too,” you mumbled, snuggling closer to him. His nose on your scent gland sent warm shivers down your spine. It was calming and made you feel safe and cosy and like you could finally rest.

“It is,” he agreed quietly, turning your body so he was on his back and you were glued to his side, “Rest now, my omega, I got you.”

*

It was several days of rest until you finally could breathe through your nose again. But when the rest of the flu had dissipated and you felt like you could return to life as usual and Boba asked you out to the opera, you knew it would be even better than the date you had originally missed.

The older alpha took you out to dinner first. To a fancy restaurant by the water where the waitlist was several months long. So long, in fact, that you marvelled at how he managed to get a table there. As it turned out, the small restaurant in question was owned by his friend Paz, a giant of an alpha who came out of the kitchens with a huge grin and a promise to deliver you the best meal you ever had.

And just like Boba, Paz Vizsla was an alpha who kept his word. Paired with the most delicious wine you ever had, you were served a three-course pre-theatre dinner that had you humming with delight.

But the true highlight of the night was not the strawberry pistachio tarte or the seafood pasta, no. It was the man in front of you.

Boba’s eyes never left you. He held your chair for you and had his hand on yours whenever time allowed. He looked so handsome in his black suit with a dark grey dress shirt and you found your eyes straying to the first few undone buttons that granted you a look at his chest.

Stars, you were so done for.

“You look stunning,” he complimented you, “That has to be my favourite colour on you.”

It was a dark green silk dress that was clinging to your body “in all the right places” as your friends had assured you in the group chat. And hearing Boba thinking the same things made you happier than you could have imagined.

“And you look very put together, as always,” you teased him back, leaning forward and not missing the way his eyes flashed to your neckline. If only he knew …

Your alpha smiled at you, then, and leant back in his chair like it. You watched with bated breath as he held his thick hand up and started rolling up his sleeves, revealing his tanned forearm to you. First the one, then the other and then he dared to wink at you because he knew exactly what you were thinking.

And it was exactly these filthy thoughts that got you into the mess that followed.

Because Boba had a private boy. Of course, he did.

You felt like a princess when he led you up the carpeted stairs through the gorgeous old building to a little room that was reserved just for you. It was hard to look at the steps in front of you when you were so distracted by the painted ceilings, the stucco and the giant chandeliers that, just for a second, gave you the feeling of travelling back in time. But Boba’s hand was right there to steady you, his hand squeezing yours warmly when you heisted before.

The first thing you were greeted with was a set of fancy drinks – your favourite mocktail and a scotch that was older than both of you for Boba. Only then did you take in the room.

For some reason, you had thought that the door would lead immediately to your private seats for the show. Instead, you were standing in a little reception room, furnished with a plush couch and a minibar and looked far fancier than any hotel room you had ever stayed in.

Slow music was playing from a record player and if you listened carefully, you could hear the orchestra getting ready through the thick curtain. It was cosy and private and made you feel like you were far away from everyone and everything.

You sat down on the couch, sinking into the fabric with a laugh and Boba joined you. Sitting next to you, with his legs spread and leaning back against the couch with one hand still holding his scotch, he was the picture of sex appeal. Everything about him made you hyper-aware of the arousal simmering in your core.

“What are you thinking about, little omega?” he rumbled, taking a sip of the amber liquid. You watched his throat move and swallowed with him, wanting to press your lips to his Adam's apple.

“Nothing,” you whispered, slowly leaning forward. Your heart was pounding in your chest, “Just that you haven’t kissed me yet.”

The glass of scotch landed on the side table with a clank and he turned towards you, his eyes intense. “We can't have that,” he stated, a small smile on his lips, “C’mere, love, let me remedy my mistake.”

You don’t know who moved faster but his warm hand cupped the side of your face the moment your lips met his. He tasted of scotch and something uniquely him that had you opening your mouth for his tongue.

Desire overcame you and in no time, his hand on your hip held you steady as you climbed on top of him, your knees settling on the couch on either side of his lap as you tried to get as close as possible. He was warm and solid and you just wanted – you needed – to feel him.

The fire in your core was fuelled by the low groans that left his mouth and when your hips stuttered against his and you could feel him hard against you, you wished you were anywhere else but the opera. Maybe your bedroom. Or his bedroom. Anywhere with a bed, really.

You were completely out of breath when you pulled apart. Boba had a lazy smirk on his face, his free hand trailing slowly over your neckline. He ran his finger over the silk of your dress, right over your tit, circling where you needed him most and sure enough you could feel and see your nipple pebble through the thin fabric.

“Tell me,” he rumbled, “What did you think would happen when I realised that you were not wearing a bra and that you are this close,” he hooked a single finger into the neckline, gently pulling the fabric down your skin until your chest was free to the cool air, “to showing me your pretty tits?”

“I wanted to look pretty,” you mumbled, your ears hot at him knowing how bare you were beneath this dress. You had never done anything like this but Boba – Boba brought it out in you. It made you feel a little dirty in the best way and you knew you had Boba to thank for it.

“That’s one way to say you’d like to skip straight to dessert,” he teased you and you could not help your smile. The tension did not falter though and neither did the movement of his finger circling your nipple but not quite touching it.

You wriggled your hips, trying to get closer to him.

The groan that left him had your pussy weeping.

“How long did you know?” you asked shyly, arching your back so he could touch you freely.

“When you bent over at dinner,” he revealed, his thumb finally brushing directly over your nipple, bringing it to a peak. The feather-light touch was repeated on the other side as well. “Had me rock hard in an instant, princess. I had half a mind to sit you in my lap right there so no one can see how I would bury my cock in your sweet pussy.”

“Alpha,” you breathed. His fingers tightened on your nipples and you squeaked when he gently pulled, the mixture of pain and pleasure making you whine.

“Performance doesn’t start in the next 30 minutes,” he rumbled, his mouth closing over one east and you gasped, “How about we get you out of this pretty dress and I make you come?”

“Boba!” you gasped, “You – We – we are in the opera.”

“That we are,” he agreed, lightly biting the underside of your breast.

“You – you don’t mind?”

“Omega,” he said softly, standing up and pulling you with him until you were standing in the middle of the room, “I have you half-naked in my lap, ready for me to devour you. I don’t mind where we are as long as no one sees how pretty you look for me. So what do you say?”

You did not say anything but you shimmied your shoulders until the dress fell down your torso. Boba’s hands were big and warm on your back as he helped it along the rest of your body. The silk fell from your body in a whisper and just like that, you stood in front of him completely bare, in a private room in the opera.

Stars, you never would have thought to do something like this. And Boba Fett still looked at you like you were the most beautiful sight in the entire world.

“Stunning,” he stated, his dark eyes running over your body. He sat down on the couch again and patted his thighs. You stepped closer, feeling strangely secure and forward – completely bare for this man who made you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

“It’s unfair, though,” you pouted as you ran your fingers over the buttons of his shirt, “You are still fully dressed.”

“Hm, let me enjoy it for now,” he smiled, pulling you against him, his hands immediately finding their way to the soft flesh of your ass, “I want to pay attention to all of this,” he squeezed your ass, “before I get distracted by your touch.”

His words turned you on more than you wanted to admit and so instead, you only squirmed in his grasp.

“Straddle me,” he instructed, relaxing against the couch as you followed his order, “Keep the heels on.”

The feeling of your bare skin against the fabric of his suit was surprisingly erotic and your pussy clenched at the proximity to him. He was warm and strong beneath you, letting you rest your weight on his thighs and the couch.

“I want you to feel how hard I am,” he explained, pushing your hips down on him and your eyes flew open at the bulge you felt pressing against your core. He felt … big. “And then I want you to tell me how you want to come tonight.”

You swallowed heavily, gathering the courage to reciprocate the honesty he was giving you. “On your cock, alpha,” the words felt strange on your tongue, never having been one for dirty talk, but the flint in his eyes made it worth it, “I want to come on your cock.”

He chuckled. “I'm afraid that’s not an option, omega. We are in public after all,” he winked, his hand wandering down your cheek and body until his fingers brushed against your folds. You were already soaking wet and you closed your eyes, grinding your hips against him, “You can have my fingers or my mouth.”

His middle finger ran through your wetness before his fingers twitched and he pushed one inside you to the first knuckle. You breathed in sharply, his touch causing everything in your body to stir.

“This okay?” he asked you, his voice rough like sandpaper, “Does my finger in your pretty cunt feel good?”

“Yes,” you nodded eagerly, gasping when his mouth closed over your nipple again, “It feels really good, alpha.”

“Good,” he rumbled, finger moving carefully deeper inside you before pulling out again. With his other hand still kneading your ass, he grinned, “Would you like me to add another finger?”

A whine escaped you at his slow pace. He really wanted to make you work for it.

“That is not an answer,” he mocked, looking up at you. You kissed him again, enjoying the way his stubble rubbed over your jaw and his tongue playing with yours, “Do you want my fingers in your pussy? Yes or no?”

“Please,” you whimpered, “Please, alpha, let me come on your cock.”

“Fuck, you're filthy,” he cursed, his hand landing on your ass in a slap, “Who knew my pretty omega could talk this dirty?”

His praise made your cheeks heat up but it did not keep you from moving your hips again. This time, you could feel the tip of him catching against your clit and a thousand nerve endings tingled. Your eyes fluttered with desire and you did it again.

And again.

And again.

Until Boba made you stop with a strong hand against your back.

“Lean against me,” he ordered, “Go on, your chest against mine.”

Following his instructions, you fully rested against him and used the position to your advantage by plating your mouth on his scent gland. It was the first time you properly tasted him – all pinewood and smoked – and it clouded your mind instantly. All you could and wanted to do was follow whatever Boba said.

“Spread your legs,” you did, “Wider, omega.”

You whimpered against him but still spread your legs as wide as they would go. It opened you up to him but instead of slipping his hand between your bodies, his fingers brushed down your back to your ass, until –

“Relax,” he murmured, his fingers only barely brushing over the crack of your ass, “I am not here for that now. Soon, though.”

You could feel his finger slowly pushing inside you, its way eased by the wetness coating your thighs and walls. Your eyes widened, completely locked in by his gaze as you felt him slowly thrust his finger in and out of your pussy.

“Want you grinding against my cock while I finger you,” he explained, voice rough, “You deserve to come, pretty omega.”

He pushed his finger, so much thicker than yours, back in again and you could feel your walls flutter. By the way Boba’s eyes darkened, he had felt it too. Soon, he added a second one, thoroughly stretching you until you were helplessly humping against him.

The sight of you must have been filthy. This older, completely dressed man with an undressed omega on top of him grinding herself against his cock and panting against his scent gland. It turned you on even more and when you licked a stripe up his neck, he groaned too, his hips rocking up against yours and paired with his fingers inside you, you were already so close to coming.

But it was not what you wanted.

“I want your cock,” you pouted, rocking against him. He was heavy and hot and your pussy was throbbing for him, “Don’t make me wait, Boba, please.”

The hand on your ass travelled to your jaw, tilting your head until he could kiss you. “You beg so prettily for me,” he murmured, his teeth scraping against your bottom lip, “You almost have me reconsidering.”

Spurred on by his words, you pushed your hips back against his fingers, having them go deeper. Trying to keep from gasping, you bit your lip until it hurt.

“Please, alpha,” you breathed, doing your best to put on your most seductive voice, “Please alpha, I want to feel your cock so badly, I – I just know it is going to feel so good, p-please. I need it. I need it so bad.”

He did not reply for a while, simply adding a third finger that had your walls flexing around him. That should have been the sign of your victory but you were too busy grinding your clit against his covered shaft to really register it.

“I am nothing if not generous,” he teased you, his mouth pressing hot kisses to your scent gland, “But I will not knot you. I will only let you sit on my cock and fill you with my come. But I will not knot you. Not yet.“

You could live with that.

He spread you out on the couch before resting over you and it was that moment that you remembered that all that was separating you from hundreds of people were the thick velvet curtains. He seemed to know that too.

“Stay quiet, little one,” he warned you but the devious smile on his lips made you feel like he wouldn’t mind at all if everyone knew what was about to happen. And that just made you feel even hotter.

The sight of him undoing his belt alone was enough to cause another rush of wetness down your thighs and you spread your legs of your own accord, wanting to give him the view he was giving you. Because seeing his cock, big and heavy, had your pussy clenching. There was a bead of precome on the tip that you desperately wanted to taste and when his hands wrapped around his shaft, giving himself a few strokes, it was all you could do not to beg.

But Boba had plans. “One foot on the floor,” he ordered you and you did as you were told. He pushed your opposite leg on the backrest of the couch, effectively spreading you even further and felt a little ashamed, being so exposed to him.

His strong hand continued to pump his cock while he looked at your pussy like he wanted to devour you.

“Alpha,” you whined, growing restless, “Please …”

“We got to be quick, little omega,” he warned you, “We have a show to catch, after all.”

Despite his warning, he pushed inside you slowly, letting you get used to his size. You had known it would be a tight fit from just seeing him but the feeling of the tip alone breaching your walls had your breath catching in your throat. Boba noticed, of course, and his thrust remained shallow until you could finally relax.

“Good girl,” he praised you, “Can feel you opening up for me. You’re all quiet now, hm? All you wanted was that big fat cock fully in your pussy, hm?”

You nodded eagerly, his words making your cheeks flush. His body, still dressed, moved above yours expertly while you hardly knew what to do with yourself. You felt full and pleasured and he wasn’t even fully inside you yet. All you could do was run your hands over his body, grabbing his shoulders, brushing your fingertips over his scent gland and then to the back of his head, pulling him down for a kiss.

Boba, meanwhile … Boba was a rock. He was confident, calm and in control. All the C-words, really. Cocky too, judging by the smirk on his face as he bent down to kiss you again.

“Tell me,” he encouraged you, “How are you feeling with my cock inside you, princess?”

“Full,” you breathed, “So full, alpha. It’s – are you –“

He looked down, his finger circling your clit, making your clench around his firth. “Not even halfway, little one,” he stated and you took a deep breath, “I’m gonna fit in this tight little pussy, no worries.” He continued to circle your clit and you hummed, feeling your walls stretch around him.

“There we go,” he encouraged you, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear as he spoke, “There’s my good girl. So gorgeous for me, feel so good around my cock. Tell me, does it feel good for you too?”

“Uh huh,” you nodded eagerly, trying to shift your hips to get closer but Boba pinned you down with his body weight, shoving the rest of him inside you in the process. You bit your lip, trying to muffle the moan that wanted to break free. His weight on top of you was comforting. You wanted him to have this control over you, having to worry about nothing but enjoying yourself.

“I am the one who moves around here,” he chastised you, fully thrusting inside you again and brushing a spot that made you shiver, “Trust me, omega. Let me take care of you. You just lie here and take it.”

And take it you did.

“Faster, please,” you whispered, “Just a little – oh!”

He adjusted his pace perfectly like he knew exactly what you needed. The size of him inside you made you see stars and you felt dizzy with pleasure. When he angled his hips just so, his cock met that spot again and again until your eyes fell back and your mouth fell open. Thick fingers wrapped around your neck, just under your jaw and you could feel his breath on your skin.

Your toes started tingling and soon the sensation ran through all your muscles until you were spasming around him in the strongest orgasm you had ever felt. Everything felt heightened and with how you were clenching around him, he felt even bigger than he already was.

“Fuck,” Boba cursed into your neck, his hips stuttering, “You are so fucking pretty, omega. Can’t wait to fill you up like you deserve, full of my cock and my come. Gonna do this every day, princess, so you remember who you belong to, hm?”

Gasping for breath, your heart still racing in your chest, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, “Alpha, I –“

“I know, princess,” he groaned quietly, his hips stilling, “I know.”

His cock was so deep inside you, you never wanted him to leave. You wanted to remain like this forever. He came inside you and you could feel it, the strange sensation of him filling you up with what felt like a lot of come, a guaranteed mess between your thighs.

Still, you had never felt as connected with anyone as with Boba at this moment, his clothed body pressing against yours, his breath slowing against your neck.

 “Stars,” you whispered, blinking the sudden tears away.

Boba kissed you softly, his rough hands running over every inch of bare skin. His weight on you was comforting and the way he caged you in made you feel oddly small and safe. He pulled out of you, slowly, and you winced when his come trickled down your tights as soon as he left you.

You watched as he reached for some tissues, gently cleaning you up. He remained silent but gentle, his fingertips brushed carefully over your inner thighs and your already swollen folds.

“How do you feel?”

“Fucked,” you breathed out. Both of you chuckled but the sight of him pocketing your panties had you grow quiet. “Don’t mind if I keep these,” he rumbled, his hands helping you stand before smoothing your dress down your legs, “Want to keep a souvenir of when I filled you up the first time.”

You were completely breathless again and it did not help that you could still feel him inside you. “Thank you,”

“For what, omega?”

You stepped closer to him, planting your hands on his chest. His heart was beating just as hard as yours and you could not wait to later peel the shirt off him and feel his body heat against yours. For now, though, you just pressed a kiss to his neck. “For taking care of me,” you explained, “For making me come,” you kissed his jaw, “For fucking me so good,” you whispered before kissing him softly, “For coming inside me.”

His hands went to your waist, holding you closer and allowing him to prolong the kiss. He was growling when you pulled away and it was easy to admit that he already had a hold on your heart and pussy. But it was your turn to tease now.

“C’mon,” you grinned, “Didn’t you say we had a show to catch?”

Boba grinned, eyes twinkling as he pulled back the curtains for you. “You're gonna be the death of me, little one.”

*

Fortunately, you were not the death of him, though he did like to continue the joke weeks (if not months) into your relationship.

Being with Boba was like stepping out into the daylight after the movies. It was strange at first, getting used to the fact that he was so openly in love with you. That he was not afraid to embrace you being an omega. It led to a few misunderstandings and more than a few serious talks in which you came to the realization that your dating history had impacted you more than just a little.

But Boba was not about to leave you because you were an omega and he was not about about to leave you because you were too high-maintenance.

It took a bit of time and a few in-depth conversations with your friends but soon enough you learnt that you were lovable, omega and all. And Boba was the exact right person to love you.

Your first heat together was better than anything you had ever imagined. He had noticed it before even you had, showing up at your door with takeaway food from Paz’s place, flowers and a bag of his worn shirts. That and his “I took the next few days off, princess, let’s get your nest ready” came just a few hours before you noticed the cramping in your belly.

By the time your heat properly hit, you were already buried in the softness of your nest, cuddled against your alpha’s chest as you watched your favourite movies. You spent three days holed up with him in your apartment, taken care of in every single way from him scenting you to arranging the nicest fruit platter to sitting you on his knot until you cried, whispered the sweetest nothings in your ear.

It was the happiest you had ever been and for the first time in a long time, you were confident that this happiness would remain because Boba gave you every indication that it would remain.

Like when he suggested one winter evening that your flowers would bloom nicely in his garden come springtime or when he took you to the hardware store, getting all the tools to hang your pictures in his – your – home. Or how careful he was to help you pack up all your stuff, making sure everything stayed secure and safe as you made the move from your small apartment into his house that became yours.

Or that time he surprised you with the Merino wool throw blanket for your nest when you complained one December evening that the only thing that could keep you warm was him.

The one moment where it all came full circle though, was when he decided to host his team for another summer BBQ. You already had a ring on that finger (a ring he had put there after an especially romantic evening at Paz’s restaurant) and his house now truly reflected the both of you living there, but the prospect of seeing the man who had triggered it all still made you a little bit nervous.

It was hard to believe that only a year ago, you had tried to avoid Boba and the feelings he caused in you at all costs. And now you were engaged to him and could not imagine your life any other way.

A few guests were already mingling in the garden when you put out the last of the cutlery. Boba followed close behind, carrying the cooler out of the garage.

“Ready?” you asked, smoothing your hands over your yellow sundress. The hem was hitting mid-calf and you loved the little twirl it did. What you loved even more was the way your alpha had buried his head under that dress only a few hours ago.

“Ready,” he confirmed with mirth in his eyes. It would not surprise you if he knew exactly where your mind had been.

A wave of new guests arrived in the garden and you stiffened when you recognized one familiar face. And he recognized you.

“Hey,” Josh greeted you, his voice just as grating as you remembered, “I didn’t know you would be here.”

He did not try to hug you for which you were grateful but he also did not leave. You really wanted him to leave.

“Hi,” you forced yourself to smile, highly aware of Boba standing right next to you. His hand was on your lower back, warm and comforting as you faced the man who once called himself your perfect match.

“I’d say it’s good to see you, but, uh,” Josh looked to Boba, questioningly, “Why are you here, exactly?”

You wanted to scoff, you really did. But your body was tight with nerves and you did not like the eyes of the other guests on you. But you should have known that Boba would take care of you. He always did.

“C’mere, omega,” your alpha mumbled with a soft smile and your heart skipped a beat as his fingers gripped your chin and pulled you to him. And then he kissed you in front of everyone. Just a slow peck, nothing more, but you could not help but sigh against him, your hand landing on his warm chest.

He hummed, his scent surrounding you even in the open air and when he pulled away, you were both smiling. Pinewood and smoke were your favourite scents in the world.

Everybody was smiling, really, except for one.

“Do you wanna explain yourself?” Josh demanded, for the first time sounding displeased.

“I don’t think there is anything to explain,” you replied coolly, your hand still on Boba’s chest, smiling at the man in front of you. The diamond on your ring caught the sunlight but it was nothing against the blinding smile on Boba’s face.

Boba, who paid just as little attention to Josh as you, his eyes never leaving yours as he raised his hand to your face. “What can I say,” he grinned, his thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek, “She found her perfect match.”

[manias-wordcount]

can i request something for spike ^0^ like reader's taking care of him and he realizes how soft things have gotten in his life

Just a Little Soft (Spike Spiegel x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗶 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗯𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗼 𝗶 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗯𝗼𝘁𝗵 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆!

𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗹𝘂𝗯 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: @dogsandrocketsocks @pittbull-enthusiast @asuperconfusedgirl @rendartgrimson @abellaheart-blog @skylardarling @sachimz @roronoaism @itzmymelody

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

He doesn’t need this.

He’s been drinking for who knows how many years at this point. He’s been plastered while flying his Swordfish before- at least once or twice. And he knows he’s managed to come out of a few of his earlier bounty hunts (mostly) safe and sound despite being black-out drunk for almost the entire duration. All this to say, he knows how to handle his liquor. And when he doesn’t, he at least can hold it long and well enough that he can manage on his own, albeit sloppily. So, no. He doesn’t need this. He doesn’t need you to do all this. Especially not for him.

And yet…

“Oh…what am I going to do with you, Spike?”

He just can’t find it in him to say no to you.

The problem is that you must think he’s drunker than he actually is. You have to. It’s the only explanation he could think of for how he ended up in such a lucky position. You would never stick around when he and Jet and Faye would get to drinking, so it’s only natural that you would freak when you saw all those empty glasses growing in front of him in a nice, neat pile. It didn’t really help that he was starting to sway in his seat too- feeling a warm buzz as a soft, old jazz recording floated over the Bebop’s speakers. And to top it all off must have been the way he looked at you. The way he turned to the sound of your voice and drank you in, with a smile that moved nice and slow. The way he stared at you, eyes big and wide as if seeing you for the first time. 

The way he looked at you as if he was falling in love all over again and was helpless to stop it.

Of course, you couldn’t tell that despite his completely soft and almost out-of-character actions, he was fully in control of himself. You just didn’t see that in him. But what you did see was that he was a man who had a little too much to drink and it was starting to show. A man who was in need of a little bit of help. So that’s what you offered. A little bit of help.

And somehow, a little bit of help turned from escorting him back to his room to him tugging you down to lay on his chest as he crashed on his bed all while wondering how in the world did he get so lucky.

There’s no fear that he’ll end up hurting himself or drinking himself sick now that he’s far away from where the booze is being stored and being propped up nice and safe on his bed comfy bed. There’s no fear here, so you’re free to look up at him and giggle that sweet giggle of yours that he swears just sounds too good to be true. There’s no fear here, so you’re free to chastise him with a nice little teasing lilt to your voice that he just can’t get enough of as you scold him for making you worry. There’s no fear here, so he doesn’t fear the consequences of his actions. He doesn’t talk himself out of making a move. He doesn’t tell himself that he’s moving too fast.

He doesn’t do any of that.

Instead, he leans forward and he kisses you.

And because you’re perfect- because you’re sweet and kind and worried, you’re the one hesitating. You’re the one who goes in, only to pull back out with eyes ablaze, wondering if what you’re doing is right because the last thing you want to do is take advantage of someone you care so deeply about. You’re the one who has to get reassured that no, he’s not that drunk, he just really can’t take his eyes off you long enough to think about anything other than how badly he has been wanting to kiss you for so long now. 

And maybe it’s the gin talking. Or maybe it’s the warm, sweet feeling he gets every time you’re near. Or maybe it’s the fact that he’s got you in his arms like some pretty, little present that he’s mere seconds from squeezing so hard and tight that you won’t ever want to let him go. Whatever it is, what the reason is- it’s driving him forward. It’s driving him to keep his eyes closed as his lips pressed against yours. It’s driving him to keep a steady hand on your waist with fingers spread nice and wide to grab more of you to ensure that you stay close. It’s driving him crazy. It’s driving him insane. It’s driving him…

…soft.

Soft like the noises you make when he surprises you with a kiss that is a little deeper than he was anticipating. Soft like the feeling of your skin beneath your clothes as his fingers brush against every little pocket and peak he can find. Soft like your lips as he kisses you over and over and over again. Soft like you are. Soft like your heart is. Soft like you make him. 

Oh, how you make him soft.

His mind and his blood are still abuzz of everything that he had to drink tonight. But he can’t deny that just a couple minutes with you- trading kisses and listening to you smile and giggle and laugh for him- is starting to sweeten him out a bit. It’s starting to make him think of futures. It’s starting to make him think of bright sunny, skies and a big house with a yard on Mars. It starting to make him think of getting an honest job- one that’s still fun for him, but won’t scare you as much as his work does now- and leaving the Bebop behind. It’s starting to make him think dangerously. Starting to make him behave dangerously too. 

Dangerously enough to whisper I love you, in between kisses. And dangerously enough to not even care if you heard or remember what he said in the morning. Because you make him soft. You just make him too soft. Too soft to think clearly. Too soft to worry. Too soft to care about consequences. Too soft to entertain any single thought that isn’t about pleasing and keeping you around for a long, long time. 

But for now, that’s alright. He’ll just keep telling himself that he didn’t need you to do all this for him. In the same way, he’ll keep telling himself that he could stop kissing you and push you out of his arms at any point and time. The same way he’ll keep telling himself that he’s not really in love- there was just a little too much gin and not enough tonic in his cup tonight. Because right now? He’s just a little bit soft. Not too drunk. Not too sober. Not too stupid. Not too crazy. Just a little soft.

Yeah…just a little soft.

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 139 }

a little unwell.

megumi fushiguro x fem.reader

“oh, it is just so terrible! you should have seen how much pain megumi was in!”

when gojo told you how your boyfriend had suffered some minor injuries due to developing a sudden fever while in the midst of a mission-

your heart already went into overdrive, as your mind kept playing all these tricks on you.

megumi probably lost his arm-

or lost his legs-

maybe he lost both of his arms and legs?!

your anxiety always spiked up into unreal levels of insanity anytime your loved ones got hurt, and you were vaguely aware of gojo’s explanation of your boyfriend’s situation before turning away from him. it was as though the teacher’s explanation was drowned out due to the blood that was felt rushing to your ears, pushing your body forward as you walked away from him.

it seemed as though you were running on autopilot, with your stiff legs taking you back to your room as you collected some necessities.

first and foremost, the neat first aid kit your mother had given you for your first day at tokyo jujutsu high was securely in your grasps as you grabbed other items to help with caring for megumi.

some of your favorite snacks,

an ice cold bottle of water,

and an extra blanket, just in case his fevered chills became too much to bear as his own paper thin blanket wasn’t sufficient enough in providing the comfort that you knew he needed.

your heart was still pounding within the confines of your chest, your veins filled with dread as you continued walking around the hallways of the dorm. finally, when his door was in front of you, you expected the worst the moment you opened the door and saw megumi.

so when you gently knock at the door before opening it, you could feel your breathing escape from your lungs like a deflated balloon.

so not only did gojo over-exaggerate the extent of megumi’s wounds (like he always does, just to tell a good story), but megumi appeared in perfect condition-

with both limbs attached.

you take a moment to admire him, simply leaning against the doorway as you trailed your eyes over his sleeping figure. his messy locks of hair remain mussed against the plush pillows, and his deep, sapphire eyes were kept hidden beneath trembling eyelids. his arms were kept almost stiffly by his sides while his legs were covered beneath his blanket. the only proof of an injury that you saw was a simple bandaid that was placed across his cheek.

with careful movements, you gently shut the door behind you and crept closer to him. despite the fact that you had tiptoed across the floors, you knew that your presence could be sensed by megumi as he opens up an eye to look at you.

“hey…” his voice was hoarse when he calls out your name, and upon closer inspection of his face, you could see how flushed his pale skin had become. you look over to his nightstand and see a full cup of lukewarm water along with an unopened packet of medicine tablets that were meant to help with his fever.

“hm… meg, why didn’t you take your pills yet?”

a soft grunt was heard coming from his chapped lips.

“can’t swallow that well yet… my throat burns.” megumi admits to you with a groan, which made your heart swell with love and empathy for him.

“would you like my help?”

you listen as your boyfriend lets out a series of coughs before looking at you. “what do you mean… by that?”

you flash him a cheshire grin before taking a hold of his tablets. ripping off a single dose, you open it before placing both tablets in your mouth. trying not to acknowledge the bitterness of the medicine, you proceed to open the bottle of water before taking a swig of it. megumi wasn’t given a chance to react when you suddenly hold his chin still, pressing your lips against his before transferring the medicine to him.

your hand against his throat was soothing and gentle, giving the base of it a series of gentle massages to ensure that megumi safely swallowed his medicine. when he pulls away from you first, you couldn’t help but smile down at him, basking in his reddened cheeks.

“see? that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

“s-shut up!” he was still too shy to face you, making you giggle even more before leaning closer to him, pressing your lips against his cheek in a sweet kiss.

you end up giving the rest of the cold bottled water to him, allowing the liquid to ease the soreness of his throat. because of how deeply you loved him, you even gave him the rest of your soft served strawberry ice cream as well!

after you spoil him a bit with your snacks, megumi ends up wrapping his arms around your back suddenly, making you nearly fall to the ground had it not been for his tight grip on you.

“what… megumi?!”

a light sheen of sweat was seen on his features, and he was breathing heavily when he uses the rest of his strength to pull you even closer to him. he was panting, yet still, his arms around you remained tight, as if he never wanted to let you go.

“just… stay here… with me, okay…?”

even when he was feeling sick, megumi still manages to press a gentle kiss against your hair, the gentle touch of affection still being proof of his love for you when words never could come easy for him.

“okay…” was your simple reply, allowing your beloved boyfriend to press your form against his heated body. now comforted by your presence, he finally closes his eyes, his body seeming to curl around you as the sounds of his breathing were all that were heard from within the dorm.

you take a moment to run your hands across his damp brow, slowly massaging the frown out of his sleeping face as his expression finally turns into a more peaceful one. letting out one last giggle, you sigh and fall back into his embrace, finally falling asleep as you allowed megumi to seek comfort from your presence alone.

a.n. - lol, i finally took a break from my jinwoo haze to write about the best jjk boi in the entire world, so please enjoy this short drabble… megumi needs to rest,,,, he’s been through far too much 😭😭😭😭😭

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[playedcrowd5610]

Jazz - Danny Phantom x Transformers Prime Crossover

Summary: Danny and his sister have some catching up to do.

---

Set in a series where Danny finds Starscream one day and decides to start haunting the Decepticons. That's basically all the context you need but if you want more here is the rest of the series:

Haunting the Nemesis

Part 1: Chasing Stars

Part 2: Burning Rubber

Part 3: Adventures of the Decepticons' Pet Ghost Or Tumblr Master List

Part 4: Falling Stars

---

Danny sat cross-legged on Jazz’s small dorm bed, watching with a small smile as his older sister turned on the kettle and pulled out two china cups from her cupboard. Danny absently glanced around, looking over how neat and well-kept her dorm was. She was always organizing, always making sure everything was perfect. Danny remembered how much of a hell it was for her to live with their parents, leaving weapons, tools, and even just puddles of ectoplasm lying about the house. Her bedroom was her only safe space, and Danny was pretty sure it was the only clean room in that old house/lab/deathtrap of theirs.

The faint scent of peppermint tea filled the air as he watched Jazz fill the two cups with boiling water. She added some honey, tapped the spoon on the edge of the cup and placed it into the sink, turning back around to Danny with a smile on her face, a cup in each hand. Despite the peaceful setting, Danny couldn’t shake the anxiety that twisted in his gut.

Danny hadn’t been by in months, he hadn’t contacted her in just under that… and now he owes her an explanation.

"So," Jazz finally sat down on her desk chair, spinning around to face him and passing him his cup of tea. "How have you been doing? I was worried. I haven’t heard from you in a while." Her voice was gentle but filled with concern.

Danny sighed, glancing up at her. "I'm fine, Jazz. Really."

Jazz narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced. "Fine, huh? You were basically homeless the last time I saw you. Where have you been staying?"

He shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. How was he supposed to explain this without sending his overprotective sister into a full-blown panic? "Uh, well… about that. Promise me you won’t freak out?"

Jazz raised an eyebrow. "Danny, you know that’s not really helping me not freak out."

"I’m serious," Danny pressed. "Just… hear me out before you start yelling, okay?"

Jazz leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "Fine, I promise. What’s going on?"

Danny took a deep breath. "Okay. So… I’ve been staying with some, uh, aliens." He gave a light smile at the end.

Jazz blinked at him, stunned for a moment. Then she stared at her brother, waiting to see if he would start laughing. He didn’t. " Aliens? You're staying with aliens? "she asked incredulously.

Danny held up his hands in surrender, one still holding the mug. "Look, look. I know it sounds insane, but we’ve seen weirder things than that, right? And they're not the, you know, invade-the-world type… Well, not exactly. I mean, they did try and kill me at first, but they're actually kinda nice once you get to know them."

Jazz’s mouth opened and closed, trying to find the words. "You… what?"

"They're called Decepticons— or, well, technically, their species is called Cybertronian, but they’re basically giant thirty-foot tall robots." Danny continued, trying to keep his tone casual. “They're a little murderous, and most think humans are the scum of the earth, but they’ve also kinda… started caring about me?"

Jazz blinked, clearly struggling to wrap her head around everything. “So…you’re living with a bunch of alien robots that want to kill you?"

“In a giant spaceship, yes,” Danny said. Jazz stared at him, looking dumbfounded. Danny gave her a sheepish smile and wrung his hands together. "I mean, they're not so different once you get past the whole ‘giant alien robot’ thing.” He waved his hand to the side. “They have personalities, and grudges, and, well, issues… a lot of issues. You would honestly love trying to psychoanalyze them, Jazz."

Jazz started rubbing her temples. "I don’t even know how to respond to that."

Danny leaned forward, his expression earnest. "Jazz, I’m fine. I promise. I can handle it. I know how to protect myself." He glanced up at her expression. She seemed more concerned than he originally thought she would. "I’m sorry, Jazz, I didn’t mean to worry you. But now they’re… my responsibility, in a way. I’m finally getting them to grow their limited views on humans, and I've managed to prevent at least…” He looked to the side, counting on his fingers. “— Twenty? Twenty unnecessary deaths since I moved in, so I count that as a win!"

Jazz’s expression shifted to confusion at something Danny said. He was about to ask her what was wrong before she spoke up. “They think you’re human?”

Danny laughed and rubbed the back of his neck again. “Ah, right. I don’t think they know ghosts exist. They just think I'm a really strange human with no self-preservation skills. I mean, why burst that bubble for them.” Danny shrugged with a laugh.

Jazz gave an awkward chuckle in response before tilting her head to the side. “How, uh… do they possibly think you’re human? You have white hair, you glow, there’s the fangs, and then the whole pointed ears thing. Have you just been around them in your human form?”

Danny shrugged. “Most of the time in my ghost form, actually. But if we come down to earth, I switch to human so I don’t show up on any government radars”

“They don’t find that you can switch forms strange either?” She asked, tilting her head to the side.

Danny laughed. “I mean, technically, they transform into, like— cars and jets, so… Hair colour isn’t that different.” Danny shrugged again, hands still wrapped around his mug, which he hadn’t even sipped from yet. “I think I’m the first “Human” they’ve ever been around. It's honestly really funny seeing how they have no idea how to act around me.”

Jazz laughed again and then let out a long breath, eyes fixed on Danny with a thoughtful look. "You know… if you somehow ignore the whole alien thing, the way you talk about them kind of reminds me of how you talk about the ghosts. All tough and stabby, but secretly, deep, deep down, they care."

Danny smiled brightly, throwing his hands up in excitement. "Yeah, that's exactly it! They put on this scary, ‘I'm going to destroy you’ front, but really, if you dig a little deeper, they’re really great. I mean, take Skulker. He says that he wants my pelt as a trophy, but he helped me take down some of those labs a while back, and he sometimes even gives me self-defence tips mid-fight to make me stronger. Even if he claims it's to make me more of a challenge to hunt. I don’t think he even wants to skin me anymore."

Jazz raised an eyebrow. "And these… Decepticons?"

"Same thing. They’re always posturing and threatening at first, but once they see that I’m not going anywhere and I can stand up to them, it’s different. Like… I actually like being around them. It’s weird, I know. But they’ve kind of become like this chaotic family that I never knew I wanted."

Jazz leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand. "So what are they like? I mean, besides being war machines that want to kill people?"

Danny smiled, his eyes brightening. "Well, Starscream is… complicated. He's got this huge ego and is always trying to one-up Megatron, their leader, but when you catch him off-guard, he's actually kind of thoughtful and gives me gifts and stuff.”

“—Knockout? He’s vain, like really vain, but also kind of funny. He’s all about his appearance, but he secretly loves to explain things to people, even if it is more like he’s trying to prove he’s better than you. But I help him out with his work all the time. And I go with him down to earth to help him join street races.”

“ —And Soundwave. He doesn't talk much; as far as I know, I’m the only person he really talks to besides his mini-con Laserbeak, who’s like his bird son. But he is honestly really sweet and is always looking out for me, and I sometimes just get to hang out in the control room while he works. Breakdown is fun to talk to, and he likes to bring me on missions when Knockout can’t come —He and Knockout are partners, by the way—."

Jazz smiled and finally took a sip of her tea. "You’re right. They do sound fun to psychoanalyze."

Danny grinned. "Oh, they are. They’re like ghosts in that way, too. They’re also in a war, so they have a lot of traumatic experiences. Plus, they’re so old. I mean, these guys have been around for thousands of years, maybe even millions," he continued, gushing over his new friends.

He paused as if something clicked in his mind. "Actually, I’m pretty they can live forever if they don’t get themselves killed. They have a spark in their chest, which is basically a ghost core, so if their body gets too damaged, as long as their spark is okay and has energon, sometimes they can change frames. Though I don’t know if they keep their memories. I’ll have to ask.” He put a finger on his chin.

Jazz’s expression shifted. She hesitated before speaking again. "Danny… do you think that’s why you’re so drawn to them?”

Danny raised an eyebrow at her change in tone. “What do you mean?”

“ Maybe… maybe it’s not just because they’re like ghosts." She paused, watching his reaction. "What if it’s because they can live that long? That if you’re friends with people who live for thousands or millions of years… you might not be alone after… after we’re gone."

Danny’s blood froze, his smile fading. "Jazz…" he started, his voice unsteady. "I’m not—I'm not thinking about that. I don’t… who knows if I’m even immortal or not, right? I can still die. I’ve done it before—three times!" He held out three fingers and laughed tightly. "I’m aging, right?’ He gestured to his currently not fourteen-year-old self. “So that means I’ll die when you guys do… right?" His voice cracked at the end.

Jazz looked up at him with sombre eyes, and he felt his core sink. "Clockwork said that one day you would become his apprentice. That you’d help him…"

Danny looked away and threw a hand to the side, his voice rising. "That’s just what he says! He’s like that, Jazz. Always talking about time and the future like he knows everything. That doesn’t mean I’m gonna live forever!" It couldn’t…

"Danny," Jazz said softly, standing up and moving over to the bed, her cup placed down on the desk. She pulled his out of his hands as well, hands that were now shaking slightly. This was supposed to just be a nice catch-up with his sister. Not this. "I understand. You don’t want to lose us. But one day, when you’re older, you might become fully ghost." She paused, reaching out to gently touch his arm. "But… I’m glad you’re finally finding friends who can be there for you. Be there for you longer than I ever can. To protect you."

Danny pulled his hands away from her, standing abruptly. His breathing was shallow, and the room felt too small. He stepped back. "No. Jazz, that’s not… I don’t want them because of that! I—" His throat tightened, and he couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought.

Jazz stood. "Danny, it’s okay. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. I just think… maybe, deep down, you’re trying to make sure you won’t be alone. Even when we’re gone."

Danny’s fists clenched. The idea of losing Jazz, of losing Sam, Tucker… it felt unbearable. He shook his head, refusing to accept it. "I don’t want to think about that," he muttered, his voice strained.

Jazz’s face softened even more, and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a hug. "I know. But things change. And when they do, I want you to have people who can be there for you. People who understand you. Even if we can’t be. I’m glad you met these guys, Danny; I truly am."

Danny stood still in her arms, his body trembling. The thought of outliving everyone he cared about haunted him more than anything ever could. He squeezed his eyes shut and hugged Jazz back.

-

Tumblr Master List

[redvexillum]

Sixth Kiss: Burning

A/N: This is part of a mini series guys. I will release the related stories in a neat and tidy masterlist after! Enjoy!

SUMMARY: Caught between the past and the future, Charlie clings to a love that no longer belongs to her. Haunted by guilt and unresolved feelings, she tries to move on with you—a hellborn offering her comfort and kindness.

Charlie entrusted Vaggie with not just her heart, but her very essence. Their meeting had felt predestined, etched into the fabric of Hell's chaotic tapestry. She remembered it vividly: Vaggie, crumpled and bleeding in a shadowed alleyway, the air thick with the acrid scent of recent extermination. Without hesitation, Charlie had knelt beside her, gently lifting her battered form, her touch tender and resolute. 

From that moment, Charlie's world transformed. The darkness of Hell seemed a little less oppressive. Her laughter rang truer, her steps carried more purpose, and her smile felt genuine in a way it hadn’t for years. Vaggie became her anchor, her confidante, and her unwavering ally in the task of challenging Heaven's dominion. Together, they faced the insurmountable. 

Together, they were unstoppable. 

Until the day they weren’t. 

The first cracks in their perfect veneer came when they had first entered Heaven together to vouch for sinners. Adam revealed the dark truth of Vaggie's past. 

Vaggie had been an angel. 

Not just any angel—an exterminator, one of Heaven’s elite enforcers, charged with purging Hell's denizens. The woman who had held Charlie with such tenderness had once wielded celestial weapons with merciless precision, extinguishing countless souls without remorse. 

Charlie’s heart fractured. Her mind raced, grasping for any explanation that would make it a lie. But Vaggie’s eyes, brimming with regret, held no deception. The weight of that truth crushed Charlie, leaving her adrift in a sea of betrayal. 

What stung more? The revelation that Vaggie had been one of Heaven’s hunters? Or the knowledge that she had kept this from Charlie for years, hiding a past soaked in blood? 

The hotel became a prison of unspoken words and stifled emotions. Their interactions, once effortless, now felt heavy with unvoiced confessions and lingering guilt. Charlie carried her grief quietly, trying to maintain the facade of a hopeful princess while her heart ached for a love she no longer knew how to trust. 

Lost in thought, she didn’t notice you calling out to her. Your voice, light and teasing, broke through her reverie. 

“Hey,” you called, tilting your head with playful curiosity. “What’s got you so serious, cupcake?” 

Your gentle nudge pulled a soft, startled laugh from Charlie. She rubbed her neck sheepishly. “Sorry,” she murmured. “Just… a lot on my mind.” 

Your expression shifted to one of concern, tempered by understanding. “Heavy stuff, huh?” 

Charlie nodded. The ache of her unresolved feelings for Vaggie never quite left her. The hotel bustled with life and laughter, but none of it could fill the hollow space Vaggie had left behind. 

It was Angel Dust, ever the meddlesome yet well-meaning friend, who first suggested a dating app. Charlie had refused outright. “I’m not ready,” she insisted. But loneliness is insidious, and one quiet night, it led her to download the app in secret. 

Cinder. 

Her profile was cautious, her bio short and to the point. And then there was you—a match she hadn’t expected. From the start, Charlie was transparent. “I’m not looking for anything serious,” she had typed, her fingers hesitant. To her relief, you accepted it without question, never pushing for more than she could offer. 

Your conversations became a balm. You made her laugh, your humour lightening the weight she carried. Yet, guilt lingered, gnawing at the edges of her heart. No matter how much she enjoyed your company, part of her felt like she was betraying Vaggie—even though they were no longer together. 

“So, you’re still planning that New Year’s party at the hotel, right?” you asked, pulling out your phone. “Maybe we can hang out a bit before or after? No pressure.” 

Charlie blinked, her heart twisting with emotion. Your kindness was disarming—never demanding, always respectful of her boundaries. 

“That sounds nice,” she whispered, a soft smile curving her lips. “I know!” Charlie gasped, her entire face lighting up with an almost childlike enthusiasm. Her crimson eyes sparkled as a beaming smile spread across her lips. “What if you come to the party too?” The words tumbled out in a rush, her excitement momentarily eclipsing the anxiety that gnawed at the edges of her thoughts. 

She puffed out her chest in a show of confidence, though a tremor of uncertainty whispered beneath her bravado. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her jacket, and she took a steadying breath. “I should…” Charlie paused, her voice faltering as her gaze dropped to the floor. Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs, each beat a reminder of the fragile hope she clung to. “I want to introduce you to everyone as my… p-partner.” 

The word hung in the air between you, laden with unspoken fears and lingering guilt. Charlie’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson, a stark contrast to her usual sunny demeanour. Shame prickled at the edges of her mind, mingling with the ache of unresolved emotions. Vaggie’s face flashed in her thoughts—those sorrowful eyes, the silent hurt—and it twisted something deep inside her. 

The pain of letting go. 

The guilt of moving on. 

“Oh?” you smirked, an amused glint in your eyes as you raised a brow. “A partner, huh?” There was a teasing lilt to your voice as you crossed your arms and leaned in slightly. “Shall I dress up for the occasion? It’s a hotel full of sinners, right?” 

Your playful tone brought a momentary reprieve from the weight in Charlie’s chest. She giggled, the sound light but tinged with nervous energy. “No—I mean, unless you want to.” Her laughter faltered slightly, and she pressed her palms together, wringing them in an anxious gesture. “It’s really up to you. You look amazing as always!” She threw her arms out in a grand gesture, as if presenting you to an invisible audience. Her nervous chuckle trailed off, leaving a fragile silence in its wake. 

You snorted softly, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips before you reached out, your hand gentle as it cupped the side of Charlie’s face. The sudden warmth of your touch made her breath hitch, and her eyes flickered up to meet yours. 

“Are you really alright?” you asked quietly, your gaze searching hers with genuine concern. There was no judgment in your tone, only a soft, steady patience that made her chest tighten with emotion. 

Charlie’s heart stuttered painfully, her guilt clawing at her insides. She wanted to be honest with you. She wanted to offer you the same openness and vulnerability that you gave her. But she couldn’t—not fully. The weight of her unresolved feelings for Vaggie hung heavy in the air between you. 

Her smile wavered, a fragile thing barely holding itself together. “Y-yeah, I am,” she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of unspoken truths. Her eyes darted away, unable to hold your gaze for too long. 

Silence stretched between you, heavy and loaded with emotions neither of you dared to voice. Finally, you pulled your hand away, the absence of your touch leaving a cold, aching void despite the ever-present heat of Hell. Charlie’s cheek tingled where your palm had rested, the ghost of your warmth lingering. 

“I-I should go,” she stammered, her hands fluttering nervously. “Lots to prepare and all that.” 

You nodded, your expression softening with understanding. “Yeah, I’ve got to get back to work too.” There was a hint of something wistful in your voice as you added, “I’ll see you tonight, then?” 

Charlie forced a smile, her lips stretching in an attempt to hide the turmoil roiling inside her. “See you tonight,” she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper. 

As she turned and walked away, each step felt heavier than the last. The guilt clung to her like a shroud, wrapping tighter with every breath she took. The hotel loomed ahead, a familiar beacon in the fiery landscape of the Pride Ring. But today, it felt more like a mausoleum—a place where memories of love and loss intertwined, suffocating her with their weight. 

When she entered the grand lobby, her heart sank further at the sight before her. 

Vaggie stood near the front desk, her sharp eyes softened with an expression Charlie hadn’t seen in a long time. She wasn’t alone. The hotel’s newest resident—a sinner with a striking appearance and a charming smile—was leaning in close, their body language intimate, their laughter soft and easy. 

Charlie’s heart twisted painfully, jealousy burning hot and bitter in her chest. She had noticed them growing closer with each passing day, their interactions more frequent, their conversations filled with quiet familiarity. It shouldn’t have mattered. Vaggie deserved happiness, just as Charlie did. 

But the sight of them together—it hurt. 

Their laughter faded as Vaggie’s gaze lifted, locking onto Charlie’s from across the room. For a moment, time seemed to slow. Vaggie’s eyes held a flicker of something—regret, perhaps? Sadness? Whatever it was, it made Charlie’s chest ache even more. 

But then, slowly, Vaggie looked away. 

Charlie swallowed hard, her throat tightening as she forced herself to keep walking. Each step felt like a battle against the emotions threatening to overwhelm her. Her nails bit into her palms as she clenched her fists, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. 

Everything felt so complicated. 

Why did she have to fall in love with an exterminator? 

If Vaggie had been a sinner from the start, would things have been different? Would their love have been simpler, easier? 

Where had Charlie’s love truly begun? She couldn't say. Maybe it sprouted the first time she saw Vaggie lying broken in an alleyway, fierce and proud despite her wounds. Or perhaps it bloomed later, in stolen glances and soft conversations shared in the quiet corners of the hotel. 

But now? That love twisted inside her like a vine covered in thorns. It wasn't gentle anymore. It was a maelstrom—a swirling storm of confusion, bitterness, pettiness, rage, and frustration. Every emotion clashed against the other, and she couldn’t see the right path through the haze. 

Every road stretched out before her like a fire-lit bridge, burning at both ends. No matter which way she turned, the flames consumed her. 

And Charlie… Charlie felt trapped. 

On New Year’s Eve, the hotel gleamed with a festive glow. Strings of lights sparkled in gold and crimson, casting warm hues across the lobby. Music floated through the air, blending with the low hum of chatter from the gathered sinners. Despite the celebratory atmosphere, Charlie’s heart was heavy with anticipation and dread. 

When you entered through the grand doors, her face lit up instantly. “You made it!” she greeted, her voice bright with practised cheer. Her hand reached for yours, squeezing lightly, as though drawing strength from the simple touch. 

You glanced around the hotel, taking in the decorations. “Nice setup,” you commented, your gaze lingering on the lavish display of firework-themed banners and the elegantly arranged tables. 

Charlie giggled, a soft, nervous sound that betrayed the turmoil underneath. “Come on, I’ll give you a tour.” Her fingers laced with yours as she led you through the hotel, pointing out each decorated room, each carefully crafted centrepiece. Her voice bubbled with excitement, but her grip tightened just a little too much. 

As you reached the lounge, Angel Dust appeared from behind a curtain of streamers, his ever-present smirk widening as he spotted you. “Well, hello there,” he drawled, one brow arching playfully. “Charlie, darling—who’s the hottie?” 

Charlie froze mid-step, her cheeks flushing a rosy pink. Her eyes darted nervously between Angel, your intertwined hands, and your calm expression. The word she wanted to say—partner—caught in her throat, sticking like a jagged stone. 

The pause stretched too long, and you noticed it. 

With a casual shrug, you released her hand, slipping easily into the role she was too afraid to define. “We’re just friends,” you said smoothly, flashing a devil-may-care grin that masked any disappointment you might have felt. “Cool place you’ve got here. Any drinks?” 

Angel’s eyes glinted with amusement as he crossed his arms. “Now you’re speaking my language, sugar. Come on, let’s hit the bar.” He tossed a wink at Charlie before steering you toward Husk, who sat grumpily behind the counter nursing a glass of whisky. 

Charlie stood rooted in place, her hand lingering in the air where yours had been moments ago. The warmth of your touch had already faded, leaving her feeling colder than before. 

She could feel the unspoken judgment hanging in the air. The voices in her head whispered cruel truths. 

I'm being unfair to them. I'm stringing them along. I should let them go if I can’t give them everything. 

Her heart clenched painfully. She wanted to scream at herself. Wanted to take it all back. Wanted to run after you and tell you the truth. 

But before she could move, a familiar voice cut through the festive air. 

“Hey.” 

Charlie’s heart lurched as she whirled around to see Vaggie standing just a few feet away. Her expression was guarded, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. There was a tension in the way she stood, a stiffness that spoke of discomfort and unease. But there was something else, too—a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes, as if she was bracing herself for rejection. 

Charlie’s breath caught in her throat. “O-oh! Hi!” Her shoulders lifted in an awkward hitch as she forced a bright smile. “Long time no… see?” 

The moment the words left her lips, she winced inwardly. Long time no see? Seriously? You saw her ten minutes ago putting up decorations, you idiot. 

Vaggie’s lips twitched, forming a crooked smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah.” Her voice was quiet, hesitant. The air between them felt heavy with everything unsaid. 

Silence descended like a weight, pressing down on both of them. The sounds of laughter and music from the party faded into the background, leaving only the awkward tension hanging between them. 

Charlie opened her mouth to speak— 

“Uhm—” 

Only for Vaggie to do the same— 

“So—” 

They both stopped, eyes widening as they realized they had spoken at the same time. A nervous laugh bubbled from Charlie, and she gestured for Vaggie to go first. “You—you go ahead.” 

Vaggie took a deep breath, her gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before she looked up, her expression softening. “I just… wanted to wish you a happy New Year.” 

The words were simple, but the emotion behind them wasn’t. There was a rawness to her tone, a quiet longing that Charlie recognized all too well. It mirrored her own feelings—the ache of something broken, something lost, that neither of them had figured out how to mend. 

Charlie’s heart twisted painfully. She wanted to reach out, to close the distance between them, to take Vaggie’s hand like she used to. But fear held her back—fear of rejection, fear of causing more hurt, fear of the truths that still lingered unspoken between them. 

“Happy New Year,” Charlie whispered, her voice trembling ever so slightly. 

The conversation with Vaggie had been stilted and awkward—nothing like what it used to be. The warmth, the ease they once shared, was a distant memory now. Every word between them felt scrambled, like pieces of a puzzle that no longer fit together. The silence that followed stretched painfully, and Charlie knew neither of them had the courage to fill it. 

Politely, Vaggie thanked Charlie, her voice strained and tight, before walking away.

You returned then, two drinks in hand, a smile that managed to steady the chaos in her mind for just a moment. 

“You alright?” you asked, your gaze soft but searching. 

Charlie wasn’t alright. She wasn’t even close to alright. But the last thing she wanted was to drag you deeper into her emotional mess—a storm you didn’t deserve to weather. 

So, she lied. 

“I’m perfectly fine!” Her voice pitched higher than she intended, and she winced at the sound. The forced cheer made her cringe inside, but she quickly covered it with a nervous laugh, hoping to drown out the tension. 

You raised a brow, clearly unconvinced, but you didn’t press her. Instead, you handed her a drink, your fingers brushing against hers briefly. “Right,” you said with a smirk. “Well, let’s get this party started?” 

That easy grin of yours—the way you could shake off discomfort so effortlessly—made something tighten in Charlie’s chest. She could only muster a smile in return, grateful you weren’t pushing her for more. 

The party unfolded around her, a whirlwind of music, laughter, and revelry. The hotel came alive with sinners dancing, drinks flowing, and voices raised in celebration. The atmosphere was light, carefree… and yet, Charlie couldn’t shake the weight pressing down on her shoulders. 

She watched you mingle, saw how easily you slipped into conversation with the other guests. Your laughter was genuine, your charm disarming. People gravitated toward you, drawn by your easygoing nature and devil-may-care attitude. 

And that’s when it struck her. 

She was being unfair to you. 

You liked her. She knew that. It was in every lingering glance, every soft touch, every time you went out of your way to make her smile. You’d been patient—so patient—with her, waiting for her to take that final step. To admit she wanted more than friendship. But she couldn’t. Not when her heart was still tangled in memories of Vaggie. 

Charlie barely sipped her drink, the same glass you’d handed her hours ago still cradled in her hands. She traced the rim absentmindedly before finally taking a deep breath and downing the whole thing in one go. The burn of alcohol did little to ease the ache inside her. 

Her eyes scanned the room instinctively, searching… for her. 

But Vaggie was nowhere to be found. 

Disappointment settled heavily in Charlie’s chest, and she scolded herself for it. Let it go. You need to let her go. 

The countdown began. 

Charlie stood at your side, joining in the chant along with the rest of the crowd, but her heart pounded louder than the music. Each number ticked by like a timer counting down to something inevitable. 

Ten… nine… eight… 

Her palms were sweaty, and she rubbed them against her pants, her fingers curling into tight fists. The nervous energy buzzing through her body made her dizzy. 

Seven… six… five… 

Was this it? At the stroke of midnight, would you kiss her? Would that change everything? Would it finally silence the lingering thoughts of Vaggie in her mind? Would she move on? Could she?

Four… three… 

Her breath hitched, her chest rising and falling rapidly as her heartbeat thundered in her ears. 

Two… one… 

A cheer erupted as the clock struck midnight. All around her, people embraced, sharing small kisses and well-wishes for the new year. Charlie’s gaze flickered to yours. You were already looking at her. 

Her heart stuttered. 

Slowly, she closed her eyes, bracing herself. She waited—for the brush of your lips against hers, for the moment that might change everything. 

But what she felt instead was a soft, fleeting kiss… against her cheek. 

Her eyes fluttered open in surprise. You were still close, but the kiss hadn’t been what she expected. Instead of leaning in for more, you took a step back, giving her a smile that was gentle but distant. 

“Happy New Year, cupcake.” 

Charlie’s lips parted, but no words came out. Her mind raced, scrambling to piece together what had just happened. She searched your face for answers, and what she saw there made her heart ache. 

Your expression said everything she hadn’t wanted to admit. 

“I—” she started, her voice catching in her throat. 

But you lifted a hand, pressing a gentle finger to her lips to stop her. 

“Listen,” you began softly. “It’s been fun. It really has.” There was no bitterness in your voice, only a quiet resignation that made the edges of Charlie’s vision blur with unshed tears. “But you and I both know… that’s all this is. Right?” 

Charlie’s chest constricted painfully. Her eyes stung as the cusp of a goodbye hung between you. 

She wanted to apologize—to tell you how sorry she was for stringing you along for months, for being too scared to confront her feelings. But the words wouldn’t come. They caught in her throat, heavy with guilt. 

Her lips trembled. “I didn’t mean to—” 

“I know,” you said softly, your thumb brushing away a tear that escaped down her cheek. “You’ve been carrying a lot, Charlie. More than you should have to.” Your smile was sad, wistful. “But I think we both deserve something more than… this.” 

Charlie’s heart shattered at the kindness in your words. She expected anger, frustration—something to make her feel the consequences of her mistakes. But you weren’t angry. You were understanding, even now. 

It made her guilt all the worse. 

Her breath hitched as more tears slipped down her cheeks. She bit her lip, struggling to keep from sobbing. 

“I wanted to be the one that could mend your broken heart,” you admitted. “But I can’t wait forever. And you shouldn’t have to force yourself to move on just because I’m here.” 

The words pierced through her, shattering the walls she’d been desperately holding up. Her shoulders shook as she fought to keep herself together. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered brokenly. “I never meant to hurt you.” 

“I get it,” you murmured softly, brushing away a tear that slipped down Charlie’s cheek. Your touch was gentle, lingering just long enough to steady her trembling frame. As your fingers traced her skin, you leaned in, pressing your forehead against hers. The closeness—so intimate, so tender—felt like a final goodbye wrapped in kindness. 

“Loving a sinner is hard, after all,” you hummed thoughtfully, your voice quiet but carrying the weight of something unspoken. 

Charlie choked back a sob, her body shaking as she clasped her hands together in a prayer for forgiveness. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, voice cracking under the weight of her guilt. The apology felt woefully inadequate—too small, too late. 

You pulled her closer, shielding her from onlookers, though the surrounding crowd was too drunk or distracted to notice the way her world was falling apart. 

“I think sinners have a New Year’s resolution,” you said with a soft chuckle, the sound bittersweet in her ears. “Strange, isn’t it?” 

Charlie blinked through her tears, confused but captivated by the warmth in your voice. 

“Maybe this year, our resolution should be to face our fears head-on,” you added, parting from her gently, as if afraid to let go entirely. 

It was at that moment that realization hit Charlie with the force of a dump truck. 

She never asked you about your fears. Your troubles. Your burdens. 

You had been her rock for months, a steady hand pulling her through her turmoil. But she hadn’t returned the favour. She’d been selfish, wrapped up in her own pain, too blinded by her unresolved feelings for Vaggie to see how much you had quietly endured. 

Her chest ached with shame, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks as she covered her mouth with trembling hands. “I’ve been a terrible partner...a terrible friend,” she whispered, voice thick with regret. “I… I never meant to hurt you.” 

A soft laugh escaped you—a sad, knowing sound that cut deeper than any harsh words could have. 

“I won’t lie,” you said gently, reaching out to ruffle her hair, the familiar gesture making her heart clench painfully. Strands of blonde fell messily over her face, but she didn’t move to fix them. “It’s not great, feeling like a rebound.” 

Charlie flinched at the word. Rebound. It hit harder than she expected. 

“But hey,” you shrugged, as if trying to make light of your own pain, “it is what it is.” 

She wanted to argue, to deny that you’d ever been a rebound. But the truth was undeniable, sitting heavy between you both. 

“It’s been fun, though,” you continued, your smile bright but tinged with melancholy. “Take care of yourself, Charlie.” 

With that, you took a step back. And then another. Until you turned away. 

Charlie’s gaze locked on your retreating figure, her vision blurring with tears. Her lips parted to call out—to stop you—but no sound came. Her voice failed her, just as it always did when it mattered most. 

And so, she watched. 

It was only then that Charlie realized what you had done. You had given her mercy—something she never would have had the strength to give herself. You ended things gently, gracefully. You had set her free, knowing she was too tangled in her past to ever do it on her own. 

She watched as you disappeared into the crowd, weaving through the mass of sinners with the same ease you always had. The path you walked seemed to burn in her mind, the flames licking at her heart until there was nothing left but ashes. 

And for that… she was both sorry and eternally grateful. 

Clutching her hands to her chest, Charlie let out a shuddering breath, her fingers curling tightly against her shirt. Her heart ached with the weight of everything left unsaid, of the love you’d given freely and the love she couldn’t return. 

Charlie stood still, rooted in place as the world moved on without her. 

Where do I go from here? 

Her mind echoed the question, but no answer came. Not yet. The road ahead was uncertain, hazy with smoke and ash. But one thing was clear. 

The road to you… 

Was gone. 

And Charlie? 

She was still standing in the burning ruins.  

❀˖° Like my story? Toss a coffee to the gremlin—probably safe, but no promises! ❀˖° Join Voxtek Server and Follow Me for live updates!

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Three

Jasper Hale x Reader

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: None

Notes: So sorry last weekend’s chapter was late this week, I’m back to my regularly scheduled posting! I’m so excited so many of you like this series so far!!

Word Count: 1131

Series Masterlist

• January 25, 2005 • Forks High School •

Reader

My second day at Forks high school started much smoother than the first. It was pretty much uneventful until I decided to eat lunch alone outside on the picnic tables in the quad. It was an overcast day much like all the others and maybe a little chilly, but still decent enough since it wasn’t currently raining. It made for the perfect condition being that no one else really wanted to eat outside.

That is, until I spotted none other than Jasper Hale headed in my direction.

“Mind if I join you?” He asks, pointing to the opposite end of the table I’m currently occupying.

“Not at all.” I respond, idly tidying my area self consciously.

“Sorry, sometimes it’s a little overwhelming inside and I come out here to get away.” He says by way of explanation, laying down the sketch pad he carried with him along with a few pencils and a smudge stick. “Mostly I just come out here to draw uninterrupted.” He sits and flips to an empty page, tilting it a little away from my view.

“I get it, large crowds aren’t my thing either. Plus in the two days I’ve known Emmett I can already tell that he probably creates a hostile drawing environment.” I finish with a light chuckle, turning my attention toward the unfinished apple in my hand.

“You draw too?” He asks, eyebrows lifting as he begins a rough sketch on the blank paper.

“Oh heck no, I don’t have any artistic abilities like that, as much as I wish I did.” I frown, taking a bite of my apple.

“I didn’t think I had it in me either, but I took some classes, watched some videos online, and doodled around a lot. Finally got the hang of it although I still don’t really think I’m that good.” He trails off, concentrating on his pencil strokes. “It helps with the stress though, especially when there’s a lot going on.”

“That is… actually kind of neat. Having an outlet that’s also inspiring, creating art and it centering you in the process.” I muse out loud, watching a face beginning to take shape on his paper.

I’m about to ask who he’s drawing when the bell signaling the end of lunch rings out in the empty air surrounding us. I gather my trash and stand while he tucks his supplies away.

“Thanks for keeping me company today.” I tell him as I gaze into his beautifully golden eyes, not quite ready to part ways with him.

“Thanks for allowing me to disturb your peace and quiet.” And as if reading my mind, “Mind if I walk you to your next class?”

“Oh um, sure.” Trying not to seem too excited by the proposition of spending more time in this gorgeous boy’s presence. I tuck some loose strands of hair behind my ear and walk towards him.

“Lead the way, darlin’.” He announces, sweeping his arm in the direction of the main school building, a smirk on his lips.

I laugh and shake my head at his antics, a blush creeping up my cheeks as I walk past him in the direction of my economics class.

Ditching my trash in the trash can as we leave the quad, I miss the way he grins at the accomplishment of making me giggle. I also fail to notice the astounded looks of his adopted siblings as we pass them unaware of their presence through the windows of the cafeteria. Faces reflecting their shocked thoughts at seeing their brother openly flirting with a female compared to his normal stoic facade.

“How did you do it?” Emmett asks, leaning against the locker next to mine.

“Could you be a little more specific?” I ask, a little confused by his blunt question.

“You’ve been here less than a week and my brother is wrapped around your little finger.” He says, holding up his pinky to wiggle in my face.

I laugh and shut my locker, “Emmett, I’ve had all of like two interactions with Jasper, you’re looking into this a little too much.”

“He usually keeps to himself, this isn't the normal Jasper we’re talking about.” He falls into step slightly behind me on my way to the last class of the day, his large build not moving through the throng of students as quickly as I am.

I turn to look at my new friend, “I literally have no clue, it’s probably nothing Em!” My heart picking up speed at just the thought of Jasper. Is he actually interested in me? Is that what Emmett is getting at?

There’s no way, beautiful people like him don’t go for people like me.

I turn and leave Emmett behind in the hallway as students finish rushing through the halls, the tardy bell ringing.

American History, the class I share with Jasper Hale and it also happens to be the last class of the day. Unfortunately though, his assigned seat is on the other side of the room. At least it’s more forward than mine, leaving me to observe him for most of the class period without him seeing.

History is also my worst subject; whether it’s world or US history, I hate it all the same. So many mistakes and atrocities, I wish I could let it flow in one ear and out the other without having to remember it for tests.

Today though, I get the sense our teacher has had a difficult day since he’s decided to let us work together freely. Seeing as I don’t really know anyone yet, I’m forced to work alone.

As if he could feel my discomfort and irritation with the assignment, Jasper Hale appears at the edge of my peripheral vision, claiming the abandoned desk next to mine and turning a few heads of our classmates.

“You’re thinking so loud I could practically hear it from across the room.” He mutters lowly without looking up from his worksheet.

“I’m thinking too loud?” I respond defensively as I cut him a look that would normally skin boys alive.

“Would you like some help or not, doll?” He asks, a grin sliding across his lips as his eyes meet mine in challenge.

“I-uh, I hate history.” I manage to blurt out, a little flustered that he so easily bypassed my frustrated facade without a blink.

“I do want that explanation eventually, but we have work to finish and only,” He breaks eye contact to glance at the clock above the board, “thirty seven minutes left before you’re on your own.”

“Alright Hale, what did you get for number four?” I deflate and accept his offer to save me from the misery of suffering through this stupid assignment alone.

Next

[roseyreveries]

Far Away - 5

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Muggle!Reader Previous Part <- click! Summary: You wake up inside the Harry Potter universe without any explanation as to why you're there. Disclaimer: All characters are being aged up for PLOT (1st years are 15, 7th years are 21) but characters may act immature and childish in the beginning at times to keep their character development. Not accurate to the books or movies. CW: bullying kinda Directory <- click!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ .

The morning air in the dungeons was colder than the rest of the castle, sending a chill down my spine as Lila and I walked toward Potions class. The flickering torches along the stone walls didn’t do much to brighten the gloomy atmosphere, and the weight of the day ahead hung heavy in the silence.

Well, mostly silence— Lila was munching on a chocolate frog like it was her breakfast.

“Why do I feel like I’m walking to my execution?” I muttered, clutching my books a little tighter.

Lila smirked, “because you kind of are. Snape doesn’t play favorites— unless you’re Malfoy probably. Then you’re golden. The rest of us? Collateral damage.”

“That’s not helping,” I hissed. “How are you not freaking out right now? It’s Professor Snape. He’s supposed to be terrifying.”

“Eh,” Lila said around a mouthful of chocolate, waving a hand dismissively. “He’s not that bad once you realize he treats everyone like dirt. Lowers the stakes.”

“That’s… not comforting,” I muttered, glancing nervously at the classroom door as we approached.

Lila smirked, licking her fingers and tossing the empty frog wrapper into a nearby bin with perfect aim. “Relax, newbie. Just sit in the back, don’t blow anything up, and you’ll survive.”

“Says the girl retaking Potions,” I shot back, raising an eyebrow.

Lila laughed, a sharp, unapologetic sound that echoed down the hallway. “Touché. But for the record, I didn’t fail because I’m dumb. I just… don’t care. Honestly, I was too busy hexing people who deserved it to bother turning in homework.”

I gave her a skeptical look, and Lila rolled her eyes. “Fine, if you must know, I’m actually pretty good at Potions. Snape even said so— well, in his usual ‘you’re still a disappointment’ way. But rules aren’t really my thing.”

I couldn’t help but smile a little at that. Lila’s chaotic energy was oddly reassuring, even if it made no sense. “Great. Meanwhile, I have no idea what I’m doing. I didn’t even know magic was real until, like, two days ago.”

Lila stopped mid-step, spinning to face the reader with narrowed eyes. “Been living under a rock or something? You a muggleborn?”

I froze, realizing my mistake. “Uh— not muggleborn, just overexaggerating I guess.”

Lila’s gaze sharpened, but before she could press further, the classroom door creaked open, and a dark voice drawled from within. “If you are done wasting time in the hallway, kindly enter my classroom before I deduct points from Slytherin.”

Professor Snape.

Lila grinned and gave me a playful shove toward the door. “Saved by the greasy bat. Lucky you.”

My stomach churned as we walked into the classroom, the heavy atmosphere pressing down on me. Rows of workbenches stretched out in neat lines, each topped with cauldrons and ingredients. I quickly slid into a seat at the back, Lila plopping down beside me without a care in the world.

The classroom was already half full, with students scattered across the workbenches in pairs. The air was thick with the scent of herbs and something sharp, almost metallic.

Snape swept into the room like a storm cloud, his black robes billowing dramatically as he moved to the front. He stood with his arms crossed, his dark eyes scanning the room like a predator sizing up his prey.

As I settled in, my gaze flicked to the front, where none other than Draco Malfoy was sitting at his workstation, his pale blond head angled toward his cronies. He turned slightly, catching my eye for a split second before smirking.

Great. Just my luck.

“Pay attention,” Snape began, his voice slicing through the low murmur of the room. “Today, we will be brewing a simple Wiggenweld Potion. Simple, at least, for those of you who have more than two brain cells to rub together.”

I flipped open my book, scanning the instructions. I recognized maybe half the words, and even those felt like they were written in a foreign language. Murtlap Essence? Dittany? What even is flobberworm mucus?

I did my best to take notes, though my hand trembled slightly as I tried to keep up. Lila, on the other hand, leaned back in her seat, twirling her quill lazily.

“Are you even paying attention?” I hissed under my breath.

“Not really,” Lila whispered back with a smirk. “I already know this stuff.”

“Then why are you even here?” I asked, exasperated.

Lila shrugged. “Because Snape would hex me into next week if I skipped. Plus, I like watching him intimidate the Gryffindors. It’s good entertainment.”

I looked back down at my messy notes and the words on the pages of the textbook. My panic rose as Snape began assigning ingredients.

“You okay?” Lila whispered, already pulling out her supplies with an air of practiced nonchalance.

“Not really,” I muttered, staring at my empty cauldron like it might explode on its own.

Before Lila could respond, a small wad of parchment hit the side of my head. I frowned, looking down at the crumpled note now sitting on my desk. Glancing up, my eyes met Draco’s across the room. He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening as he leaned back in his seat like he didn’t have a care in the world.

I unfolded the note, my irritation growing. “Need help, newbie?” it read, the letters jagged and mocking.

My face burned, and I crumpled the note in my fist, glancing at Lila, who was too busy crushing an ingredient with a mortar and pestle to notice.

“Eyes on your work, Miss Thunderbrooke,” Snape’s voice snapped, cold and sharp as ice. I jolted, quickly reaching for the nearest jar of ingredients, my hands fumbling as I tried to keep up.

But Draco wasn’t done.

“Wrong one,” Draco whispered loudly enough for me to hear, his voice laced with faux helpfulness. “That’s powdered asphodel, not dried billywig stings. I’d hate for you to accidentally poison yourself.”

My hands froze over the jar. “It says asphodel on the label,” I hissed back.

“Does it?” Draco said, feigning surprise. “My mistake.” He smirked, and his cronies snickered.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Snape said sharply, his tone stern but still far gentler than when he addressed the rest of the class. “Focus on your own cauldron.”

“Yes, Professor,” Draco said smoothly, though he shot me a look that clearly said, This isn’t over.

I turned back to my workstation, my hands shaking as I added ingredients to my cauldron. Every time I tried to focus, Draco found a way to interrupt— knocking his book loudly against his desk, muttering exaggerated “helpful” instructions just loud enough for me to hear, or casually flicking pieces of parchment in my direction.

By the time my potion was half-finished, my frustration had reached its limit. I turned to glare at him, my voice low and seething. “Will you knock it off?”

“Miss Thunderbrooke,” Snape’s voice cut through the tension, and my heart sank. His dark eyes bore into me, his expression a mixture of disdain and disappointment. “If you insist on distracting my class, perhaps you’d prefer to serve detention scrubbing cauldrons?”

“But I wasn’t—” I started, only to catch Draco smirking out of the corner of my eye. He looked utterly unbothered, his chin resting casually on his hand as if he’d just won a game I hadn’t even realized we were playing.

Snape’s glare silenced me. “Ten points from Slytherin. Consider this your first and only warning.”

I bit my tongue, my face burning as I turned back to my cauldron. Lila shot me a sideways glance, muttering under her breath, “He’s such a git. Don’t let him get to you.”

Easier said than done, especially with Draco’s laughter ringing softly in my ears.

Class dragged on, each minute feeling like an eternity as I tried to salvage my potion. The instructions blurred together on the page, my mind still reeling from the embarrassment of Snape’s scolding. I glanced at Lila, who was calmly stirring her cauldron, utterly unbothered by the chaos around us.

“Stir counterclockwise, three times,” Lila whispered, not looking up from her work. “Then add the Wiggentree bark. Carefully.”

I nodded, following her instructions. “Thanks,” I muttered, though my voice carried more frustration than gratitude.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Lila said with a smirk. “Your potion still looks like swamp water.”

I groaned softly, leaning over my cauldron. I was about to ask if swampy green was normal when another wad of parchment hit my elbow, sliding across the desk. My jaw tightened, but I didn’t dare look up this time. Instead, I unfolded the note beneath the desk, my fingers trembling with irritation.

What’s wrong? Can’t handle the pressure? Maybe Hogwarts isn’t for everyone.

My grip tightened on the parchment, crumpling it into a ball before shoving it into my pocket. I refused to give Draco the satisfaction of a reaction.

But Draco wasn’t about to give up that easily.

“Careful with that stirring,” he said from across the room, his voice light but cutting. “Wouldn’t want your potion to explode. Oh wait— you already added the lacewing flies too early, didn’t you? Such a rookie mistake.”

I froze, my mind racing. Had I? I glanced down at my cauldron, trying to remember what step I was on. My hesitation made Draco’s smirk widen.

“Malfoy, shut up,” Lila hissed, finally turning her glare on him. “Don’t you have some Gryffindors to hex or something?”

“I’m just trying to help,” Draco said, feigning innocence as he leaned back in his chair. “Can’t fault me for being concerned about a fellow Slytherin’s education, can you?”

Lila rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath that sounded distinctly like a curse word. I, meanwhile, was fighting the urge to throw a handful of flobberworm mucus at Draco’s perfectly smug face.

“Enough,” Snape’s voice cut through the room like a knife, silencing the murmurs. He swept toward the back, his dark eyes narrowing as he took in my cauldron. “Miss Thunderbrooke. Your potion— if it can even be called that— should be a vibrant emerald green by now. What is this?”

I stammered, my face burning as I looked down at the murky, swirling liquid in my cauldron. “I-I must have… missed a step.”

“Missed a step,” Snape repeated, his voice dripping with disdain. He turned, his gaze flickering briefly to Draco, who sat straight and proper, as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. “Perhaps if you spent less time entertaining Mr. Malfoy and more time following instructions, you wouldn’t be wasting my ingredients.”

I felt like sinking through the floor, but Snape wasn’t finished. “Ten more points from Slytherin. And you will stay after class to clean this mess.”

I didn’t dare look up as Snape turned on his heel, his robes billowing behind him as he returned to the front of the room. The laughter from Draco’s side of the room was soft but unmistakable.

“You okay?” Lila whispered, her tone uncharacteristically gentle.

I nodded stiffly, keeping my eyes on my notebook. “Fine,” I muttered, though her voice wavered.

By the time class ended, I was the first to stand, eager to escape the suffocating atmosphere. But Snape’s voice stopped her cold.

“Miss Thunderbrooke,” he said without looking up from his desk. “Stay behind. Everyone else, dismissed.”

Draco shot me one last smirk on his way out, his cronies trailing behind him with muffled laughter. Lila gave me a sympathetic look, whispering, “I’ll wait outside.”

Once the room was empty, Snape approached my cauldron, his expression a mask of irritation. “Explain.”

“I—I’m sorry, Professor,” I stammered. “I was distracted, and—”

“I’m not interested in excuses,” Snape interrupted sharply. “You are in Slytherin, Miss Thunderbrooke. I expect excellence. Not this… mediocrity.”

I nodded quickly, my throat tightening as I stared at the floor.

“Clean up your station,” Snape said coldly. “And next time, I suggest you keep your focus on the task at hand.”

“Yes, Professor,” I mumbled, feeling thoroughly humiliated.

As I scrubbed the cauldron, my thoughts swirled with frustration. At Draco, at Snape, at myself. I barely noticed when Lila poked her head back into the room.

“Come on, newbie,” Lila said, her tone softer than usual. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve got chocolate. You need it.”

I sighed, setting the scrub brush down and following her out. As we walked toward the Great Hall for lunch, I couldn’t help but glance back over my shoulder, half expecting to see Draco lurking in the shadows.

I didn’t. But the smirk on his face was burned into my memory, and I had a sinking feeling this was only the beginning.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ .

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[sorinethemastermind]

Fluffcember 2024: Winter Soup | Rayllum & Sorvus & Clauderry Callum is determined to ask Rayla to be his girlfriend this Winter Break. But if he can't even start a fire, how is he supposed to create the perfect moment? Soren has decided to stay on campus this Christmas, but with Rayla and Callum as his only company, he's starting to feel like a third wheel. Except maybe it's not just the three of them left on campus after all. Meanwhile Claudia is trying to have a nice Christmas with her family, but maybe her family isn't at home...

 There was a familiar scent on the air, warm and comforting. Rayla closed her eyes and breathed in deep, letting the stinky smell of fish remind her of home and the holidays. 

 A loud CrASh shattered the silence and her eyes flew open.

 “Oh, come on!” Callum’s voice echoed from the kitchen and Rayla chuckled, following her nose.

 She found him in the kitchen - he seemed to spend a lot of time there, these days - one hand furiously stirring a large pot on the stove, the other holding a fillet of fish out at arm’s length. There were several other pots and pans scattered across the floor, undoubtedly the source of the noise.

 “Callum, what are you doing with that haddock?”

 He jumped, spinning to face her and flicking soup across the back wall of the kitchen.

 “Oh, uh, Rayla! Hey! I-” he seemed to be searching for an explanation and landed on; “What haddock?”

 Not his finest moment.

 Rayla grabbed the spoon from his hand and continued stirring the contents of the pot, which she found to be a thick, chunky mixture of leaks, onions, and potatoes.

 “Callum… are you making cullen skink?” she asked after a moment, glancing up at him. No wonder it had smelled like home.

 “Yes.” he sighed, deflating a little bit. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

 “You do know the fish has to cook with the vegetables, right?”

 “I- yeah.” Callum flushed a little bit. “It’s just so… stinky.”

 “It’s a smoked fish, what did you expect?”

 She took it from him, carrying it over to the nearby cutting board and beginning to chop it up. Callum trailed after her.

 “So… did it look alright?”

 “It looked like it was missing the fish.” Rayla told him.

 “Well I know that.”

 “Yes. It looked good.” Rayla said, carrying the cutting board back with her and dumping the newly chopped fish into the stewing vegetables. “And it smells even better. Like home. Ethari used to make this all the time. It was one of Runaan’s favorites.”

 “That’s what I was hoping.” 

 Rayla turned around to find Callum rubbing the back of his head nervously, making his hair stick up every which way, a faint flush in his cheeks.

 “You know, Rayla, I really like you.”

 “I really like you too, Callum.” she told him, amused. She boosted herself up to sit on the nearby counter, letting her legs dangle over the side.

 Callum swallowed before continuing, glancing away a little bit. “I like… really like you. And when I heard you were going to stay for the holidays, well, I wanted to, too. To spend some more time with you. Just us. Because, I thought that maybe… maybe you would…”

 Rayla leaned towards him, eyes widening.

 And then Soren walked into the room.

 “Hey, what’re you making?” he asked, wandering right over to the pot and poking at its contents with the spoon. “You can smell it all the way down the hall.”

 Callum let out a heavy sigh. “Cullen skink.”

 “Who’s that?”

 “Not who, what.” Rayla corrected him.

 “Did you seriously think I was cooking a person?” Callum asked.

 Soren shrugged. “I dunno. But whatever it is, are you sure you’re doing it right? It sort of smells like, uh, not food.”

 “He’s doing it right.” Rayla assured both Soren and Callum, who had cast her a glance that told her he thought the recipe might have been faulty, too. “That’s just what haddock smells like.”

 “Oh. Ew.” Soren wrinkled his nose at the soup. “But also neat.”

 “Sure.” Rayla said, figuring that was the best she’d be getting. “But actually, I think Callum was trying to say something so if you could-”

 “I’ll just ask you later.” Callum said, hurriedly. “No big deal.”

 Soren shrugged, Callum sighed, and Rayla returned her attention to the soup. The moment passed.

[gofancyninjaworld]

Manga Chapters 197-199 Review

Random fact: do you know that the default sound an ocelot makes is a growl? It’s true: while they can make other noises, happy or sad, they’re generally to be found growling. 

I mention this because it reminds me of the default sound a Village Ninja makes: I’ll kill you. 

Summary

“I’ll kill you” (affectionate)

So, where were we? Oh yes, on top of the Hero Association building, watching the devastation from Void’s attack on it settle. Random inter-dimensional slashes definitely call for some explanation, and happily, Blast is all too happy to provide. So we open chapter 197 with a flashback. 

Picture, if you will, Saitama punching Cosmic Garou in the face all over again. Garou goes flying in a neat parabola of pain and confusion as before, only this time, we’re watching him from a viewpoint much lower to the ground so we can see up and behind Saitama to see Blast watching in pure astonishment. Blast explains that he’d been trying to be useful by rerouting the cosmic radiation from Garou off into another dimension. However, as Garou gets on his knees and writhes in pain as Divine Power vomits out of him, Blast realises that power is being actively gobbled up… by something on the other side of the dimensional hole he’d opened up. Blast went to accost the figure, finding it to be the half-starved, mangy, barely-human figure of the guy he’d once called partner, Empty Void.  He tried to stop him, but Void had enough of a meal to plump up and adroitly escape, leaving Blast with only mocking laughter coming from everywhere and nowhere. 

Ah, what a touching reunion. Not.

We pop back into the present to see an increasingly shaken Flash asking for more information about Void? Yup, he’s gotten much stronger, Blast confirmed. Yup, he can move between dimensions. Yup, this is a power of God’s: if you get it, stuff like time, distance, size, and effort become meaningless, depending on how skillful you are. As Blast relays all this, Flash gets why finding the cubes has been such a priority for Blast and thinks how hopeless any attempt to contend (NB Vib: contend, not compete!) with an enemy like Void. Even as Blast swears he won’t let Void escape again, gloom settles on the ninja. 

One of the orderlies comes up to them to bring word of an emergency elsewhere that needs Sicchi’s attention, something Sicchi is only too glad to attend to! Maybe this is a little more comprehensible. She also brings Flashy Flash a letter from Sonic. In it, Sonic lets Flashy Flash know that That Man is awake and has Flashy Flash in his sights, and to meet him (Sonic) in their special place. 

Undesirable relationships

Ah, a perfect opportunity to fight That Man. Flashy Flash misdirects Blast to the address printed on the envelope. Saitama decides that since Blast seems confident, he’s not needed and he and Manako will go lay waste to some curry udon. 

The meeting then breaks up, with Flashy Flash heading very much away from the city.  Deep into the mountains he goes, reminiscing about the plans he and Sonic had once had. Dreams of setting up a new village, one that acted as a refuge for orphaned boys to truly become themselves rather than being brutally enslaved and forced to become assassins. Sonic had even brought a map to point out where he envisaged setting it up…

…and the place is now a dump. Speed o’ Sound Sonic is waiting for him there. Sonic explains that a few years ago, a road had opened up, and far from prying eyes, this once-beautiful mountain had been turned into an industrial waste dump. Rather fitting for a place where dreams came to die, Sonic finishes, as he draws his sword. Flashy Flash draws his sword in turn. Indeed, it was fitting. Since there was neither hope of opposition nor escape from Empty Void, killing each other in the place where they sought freedom so as to at least die on their terms was right. 

If I can't have freedom, let me at least die on my terms.

However, Sonic isn’t thinking about dying and scoffs at Flashy’s sentiments. After all, he was the guy who taught Flash how to use a sword. And yup, we’re back in Flashback City.  We’re treated to a young Sonic breaking with strict rules to accost a struggling Flash, introducing himself and showing him how to handle a short sword. 

As the two of them practice and start to enjoy the cut-and-thrust of sparring, the flashback transitions seamlessly into the present day, with them fighting for real. Flashy is concentrated, while Sonic has the same grin he had as a boy. Kicks fly, blades flash, and somersaults tumble in a deadly dance where first one leads and then retreats before the attacks of the other. Flashy Flash breaks their symmetry with a series of kicks that send Sonic flying. The latter responds by hurling exploding shuriken at Flash, which surround and home in on him, providing enough of a smoke screen for Sonic to start his multi-fold funeral. Flash is not fazed; he quickly deduces which of the shadows is the real person and hammers Sonic into a hole in the ground with a series of his ultimate moves. 

Screw dying, we're gonna live anyway!

He addresses the hole in the ground, complimenting Sonic for having grown so much stronger than before. There’s a grin on his face, and for the first time ever, there’s light in his eyes: it’s too soon for him to give up on living! He makes to continue, but is interrupted by a bouquet of swords and spears that pin themselves on the ground he’d been standing on.  It's the Tenninto, and they spare us a long introduction in lieu of moving to kill Flashy Flash, only they're interrupted by Sonic kicking one of their number as he goes to join Flashy Flash. Flash is surprised that Sonic withstood one of his ultimate moves but they soon shelve their verbal jousting in favour of making the Tenninto shut up already. Sonic thinks to himself how small they look compared to Saitama.

And with that, battle is once again enjoined.

“I’ll kill you” (derogatory)

I seem to remember that I promised to introduce the Tenninto at some point. May as well make it now. In order:

Instant Moment

Isn't a whip that breaks the sound barrier just a regular whip?

Decapitated by Sonic.

(left to right): Multicolored Rainbow, Vibrating Tremor, Chaotic Mayhem, Empyrean Sky, Insanely Mad, and Ballistic Bullet.

Slashy Slash

Slashed up by Flashy Flash (Tremor and Bullet saved for later).

Destructive Devastation

Hoist (or is it cut) by your own petard.

Friendly fire incident.

Brawny Muscle

Hulk smash...hulk smashed.

Death by cervical dislocation. Honestly, the only time we've seen Wind Blade Kick used to any effect.

Illusory Phantom, Hued Color, Instant Moment, Freezing Ice, Shrieking Scream, and Balanced Equilibrium (not pictured): all died when Flashy Flash teamed up with Sonic to kill them from behind a barrage of flying debris.

Slaughterous Massacre, Rumbling Thunder, Ballistic Bullet (seen earlier), Melodic Tune, and Murky Darkness

Snicker-snack, you're all dead.

Decapitated by Sonic.

And last but not least, Violent Force, who is the last to bleed out. More on him next time.

With that over, the two ninjas survey the field and congratulate each other, well, about as much as those two rivals can bring themselves to be congratulatory. They're soon back to 'I'll kill you'. But you know by now that that's the default ninja sound.

It's great to see that after all this time, Sonic still has his ambitions.

Meta

Really, I've summarised three chapters and y'all want meta? Sigh, okay! The good thing about taking so long to write these is that a lot of things become clearer in retrospect. The tough thing is not projecting what I know now into the past.

Let me start with something short. I know that Blast has colleagues he works with but something that still puzzles me to date is how little they come to help him. It's clear that he could not both reroute the gamma radiation *and* simultaneously fight Garou. Even bringing one of his dimension-hopping buddies along would have made a huge and positive difference to the situation. I hope we get insight some day into how their working arrangements work.

Also short: Saitama deciding that he doesn't want to be bossed around by people calling him Caped Baldy and leaving to find dinner will never not be funny.

Laters, losers!

The Emotional Poverty of the Village Ninja

I am convinced that if ONE does not have a formal educational background in psychology, he's developed a keen lay interest in its study. Even though the specifics of OPM characters and situations are fanciful, their psychological underpinnings are not. And when it comes to the Ninja Village, the spokes of control model used to brainwash and create a compliant person are all there. There's nothing fanciful about disorientation through lack of sleep, lack of reference to the outside world, highly-controlled regimens that allow little time for independent thought, encouraging mutual distrust, controlling the way you think, encouraging stock responses, punishment-and-reward systems... All of those are well-established, deadly serious ways to deprive people of their freedom IRL, especially in cults, but it appears wherever you find a coercive control situation. The more spokes are present, the more isolated and controlled the individual is. ONE has not laid out the spokes of control modules as explicitly as he did in the webcomic (more showing, less telling), but it's all there.

An environment purpose-built to mould compliant units.

It breaks my heart to find out what Sonic's 'bad habit' that he spoke of in chapter 14 was. His bad habit has been that he's never been able to suppress his humanity, and in particular, he's never not been able to express joy. And in doing so, he gave joy and humanity to Flashy Flash. ONE doesn't need to have Flash tell us that here in the manga: Murata's art shows it beautifully.

The alleged failures.

The successes were wonderful slaves, fit to be sold to the various crime organisations for a tidy profit, who stayed under control because you never knew who else was a ninja out there who might cut you down if you stepped out of line. Doubtless, with all the time Empty Void has been incapacitated and the Ninja Village has been non-functional, some will have taken the opportunity to break free. But as we see in the Tenninto, many have still stuck with what certainty they have and have continued to support Empty Void. When I consider that the oldest ones we see have to be in their fifties, that's a long time to have lost one's freedom.

We see the flipside now. People without a strong core of their own identity are no good as God avatars (I know I'm getting ahead of myself but only a little). And, critically, because they have never trusted nor cooperated, the Tenninto, for all their individual skills, were easy prey for Flash and Sonic. They could not form a coherent plan and got in each others' way.

Numbers don't mean squat without cooperation.

I could say more but this is long enough for now. I'll save my thoughts for the next batch. Laters!