#keep him in your prayers gang

[auntiejohn]

a guy in my year just got circumcised and now he can't jork it for 6 weeks 💔💔 stay strong jim

[flqwerjo]

˖ ݁˖ ❀⋆｡˚ ─── 𝑺𝑜𝑓𝑡 𝒇𝑜𝑟 𝒀𝑜𝑢

˚.❀𝑨𝐿𝑇𝐸𝑅𝑁𝐴𝑇𝐼𝑉𝐸𝐿𝑌ᵎᵎ dating gang!enhypen

˚.❀𝑮𝐸𝑁𝑅𝐸/𝐶𝑊 ─── scenarios, fluff, mentions of violence and bruises (wounds, blood), established relationships, mentions of crimes (trespassing, vandalism, theft etc), combat, usage of weapons, small amount of angst? (reader gets kidnapped in Jungwon's part) ˚.❀𝑾𝑂𝑅𝐷 𝐶𝑂𝑈𝑁𝑇 ─── 2.6k

                               𝒄ℎ𝑒𝑐𝑘 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑢𝑡ᵎᵎ (˶˃⤙˂˶)

˚.❀𝑱𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑤𝑜𝑛

"What a shame. Pretty little thing just wanted to go out and get groceries at the wrong time", you recognized the guy who was speaking to you with fake sympathy in his voice as your eyes started to flutter open. You couldn't see his face as he was hiding in the shadows , his shoes and legs were the only thing you could see. Your head was pounding and you felt dried liquid on the side of your head ── it was your blood. You just wanted to get your groceries... maybe this wouldn't have happened if you had just paid more attention , you should've known by the heavy footsteps that picked up their pace behind you before your world went dark ── you should have known that a certain someone had their eyes on you the minute you stepped foot outside of your house.

"Are you in love with my boyfriend or why are you doing all this just to lure him in?", your voice was groggy as you spat that out , eyebrows furrowed as you narrowed your eyes at his form slowly emerging from the shadows. It was one of Jungwon's enemies , a childhood friend he used to be really close with but ended the friendship with when they were 15 ── ever since then , that guy made himself Jungwon's sworn enemy. A scowl was on his face as soon as you said that before he made long strides over to the chair you were tied up on. "Shut the fuck up you stupid fucking bitch! If it weren't for you , I would still be Jungwon's number one!", the guy yelled back , a vein popping out of his forehead before he slapped your cheek and grabbed your collar , a loud wince leaving your lips.

"If it weren't for that stupid crush Jungwon had on you years ago , this wouldn't all have happened. Why couldn't you have just stayed the fuck away!?", jesus , not only did that guy have fucking issues but his breath also stank. You stared at him with an unreadable expression on your face ── you just hoped and prayed that Jungwon would come. You tried to keep it cool... but to be honest, you were starting to get scared ── that guy was a complete psychopath. And your prayers have been heard. The guy was about to slap you but a metal bat made its appearance behind him , glistening under the lighting of the singular lightbulb. You watched as his eyes widened once the metal bat hit him in the back of his head , his grip on you loosening as his eyes rolled back and passed out.

"(Y/n)!", Jungwon exclaimed in relief as he kicked the guys body to the side and rushed over to you, pulling a pocket knife out of the pocket of his jeans to cut the ropes open that kept you tied to the chair. He quickly but gently cupped your face to check for injuries , a sour expression on his face when he saw the dried blood on the side of your face before he pulled you into his arms ── his lips pressing against your forehead as his hug tightened. "I'm so sorry... I should've gone to the store with you... I'm so glad you're okay my love", Jungwon mumbled against your forehead , his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke and his arms once again tightened around your body.

"Let's get out of here... Jay is already waiting outside in the car... let's get you to the hospital to check your head"

˚.❀𝑯𝑒𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑢𝑛𝑔

"Again? This is the 6th time this week .... and it's only Wednesday", you could only sigh as you looked at your beaten up boyfriend standing at your doorstep in the middle of the night, an apologetic expression on his bruised face. "I live a dangerous life angel.. but this time it wasn't a silly fight , it was about you. You know how crazy i get when someone even dares to say your name... this guy had the guts to say that he could make you cheat on me since he was 'a thousand times' better than me", he pouted as he explained himself , yet , there was some frustration in his voice. You grabbed his wrist and pulled him inside before grabbing his collar and pulling him down to you , your eyes scanning his face to take a closer look at his bruises.

His hands immediately went to your waist, his eyes softening with a lovestruck glimmer in them , a soft smile on his face while the tips of his ears were starting to grow red. God were you cute , the cutest of them all ── especially when you were focused like this , trying to be mad at him but ultimately failing. You had him wrapped around your pretty finger, he'd do anything for you ── even burn the world down if that's what you wanted.

His smile didn't falter as your frown deepened , his face leaning closer to yours as he leaned in until the tip of his nose was brushing against yours. "The least you could do is kissing it better ...", he whispered as his eyes shifted down to your lips , yearning to kiss them and feel them against his own. But you weren't complying. "No, you're getting your wounds and bruises treated first.... then you'll maybe get a kiss", his smile faltered at your words , shaking his head frantically as you dragged him to the bathroom ── he hated getting his bruises and wounds treated , it just hurt so much! "Please angel! Anything but that! I'll even do the dishes!", he whined out but didn't make a move to stop you from dragging him, knowing how stubborn you can be.

"You're not getting your kiss then"

"Oh... :( alright...fine..."

˚.❀𝑱𝑎𝑦

You were scared and upset ── the feeling of dread was stronger though. Jay and a couple members of his gang were going to rob the store owned by some rich racist guy ── the justice was there but... it just didn't sound like a good idea at all. He promised you that he'd try to come back in 1 hour ... it's been 3 hours since then and still no word from him. You were nervously pacing around , your teeth chomping down on your almost bitten off fingernails as the worst case scenarios started to flood your mind. What if something happened? What if something happened to him? All those what if questions swirled around in your mind until your phone started to vibrate , your eyes immediately looking at the caller ID. It was Riki.

Riki informed you that they were back at their base and that Jay was knocked out and getting treated by Sunoo ── according to Riki , Jay got a gunshot wound on his shoulder. The bullet wasn't deep in his shoulder so it wasn't anything severe or dangerous ── didn't change the fact that your beloved Boyfriend was injured nonetheless. He just passed out from the adrenaline and exhaustion from the sleepless nights he had the last couple days. So , of course you just hung up in the middle of Riki's explanation and rushed to their base.

You didn't know if you wanted to scream , cry or slap him out of frustration as Jay sat there on the couch without a shirt , a bandage wrapped around his shoulder ── a soft smile on his face despite the panicked expression on it. He knew that he was going to get an earful from you. And he predicted right ── he just shut you up in the middle of it with a kiss that took your breath away.

"I know that it was idiotic of me mi amore , but all that matters now is that I'm fine , okay? I'll be more careful next time , I'm sorry for scaring you", Jay apologized as he cupped your face with his calloused hands , his thumb gently rubbing into your cheek. Before you could say something , Jungwon chimed in.

"There is no next time Jay. You're banned from gang activities until your shoulder is healed, otherwise you'll turn into dust if you move too much I fear"

˚.❀𝑱𝑎𝑘𝑒

"Oh come on.... please , just one kiss :("

"No."

"Why nooooooot :("

"You know damn well why"

Jake whined and groaned , throwing an internal tantrum as he threw himself onto your bed and rolled around , a huge pout on his lips. Yes , he may have gone a bit too far but come onnnnn ── your ex was asking for it! But maybe breaking your ex boxfriend's car windows was a bit too much ── in fact , he was now relieved that he didn't choose setting the car on fire as his choice of action. Still , you were mad at him for that. Jake could only sulk and pout , whining every once in a while to get your attention while you were giving him the cold shoulder.

"Baby please... I'm sorry, but he was asking for it! He kept provoking me , telling me that you'd break up with me because I'm such a hooligan or that I'm not good enough for you since I don't fit your ideal type...", Jake mumbled as he buried his face into your pillow , feeling upset with himself for making you so goddamn upset. You sighed softly and got up from your chair , abandoning your assignments as you walked over to your bed and placed your hand on his back , gently rubbing it as he buried his face deeper into your pillow.

"And you should know that everything he says isn't true. I don't care about ideal types , I just want someone who treats me well and has a great personality : which you do have and do. But breaking his windows was a bit too far Jakey... You could have just thrown eggs at his house", he only grumbled at your reply before turning to lay on his back , his sulky face coming into your view. He slowly took your hand and guided it to his lips , letting them brush against your knuckles before placing a soft kiss on them.

"I'm really sorry Baby... can I please get my kiss now...? I'll die otherwise"

˚.❀𝑺𝑢𝑛𝑔ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑛

You sighed softly as you walked through the halls of your college and watched the way the students started to cower in your presence ── it wasn't your presence though , you knew why they were cowering away from you. You knew that your boyfriend was behind you with a dark gaze in his eyes , following you like a guard dog ── he didn't even attend your college!

"Baby , you seriously have to stop scaring everyone away from me", you sighed softly as you looked up from your textbook , looking at your boyfriend who sat on your desk and watched you study, his eyes meeting yours as they shifted up to your face. "I'm just keeping you safe , especially from other men. Men are like wolves , dangerous. Besides , that way, fake people will stay away from you", he defended himself , his hand reaching for your face to tuck some strands of hair behind your ear.

"I know but.....", you couldn't find the right words , your voice trailing off. His eyes scanned your expression , noticing that you started to look.... a little lonely and he sighed softly. "I'll stop okay? I'll only bring you to and pick you up from college. I'm just... scared that something will happen to you, I live a dangerous life and you being together with me pulls you into it. My enemies could be everywhere , I'm just scared that they'll do something to you...", he explained himself , your eyes locking with his as you looked back at him. So that was the reason why he did that..

You perked up as you suddenly got an idea ── it made sense why he'd be scared. "How about this : teach me how to fight! That way , I can at least defend myself if something were to happen"

His lips curled into a small smile as he heard that , nodding his head approvingly. "That sounds like a good idea"

˚.❀𝑺𝑢𝑛𝑜𝑜

"Like this?"

"Oh? Maybe that gun is a little heavy for you.. try this one", Sunoo took the gun you held out of your hand and handed you a new one after watching you struggle to hold the previous one without shaking. Your boyfriend was the sniper of the gang he was , despite how soft or cute he could look ── he could be dangerous if he wanted to and knew his aim with the gun or sniper. And right now , he was teaching you how to use one since you've been pestering him about it ── he refused the first couple times but he was down bad for you : how could he say no to those pretty eyes of yours?

"Fix your posture baby", he moved to stand behind you , his hands firm as he fixed your posture and helped you aim the gun at a dummy. "Now , pull the trigger ,aim and let the trigger go", he instructed as he removed his hands from you , lifting them up to your ears to cover them before you shot at the dummy. Damn , how was he able to do this without falling? The recoil of the gun had you stumbling backwards but you didn't fall ── all thanks to your boyfriend standing behind you , your back leaning against his chest.

He hummed in approval and removed his hands from your ears to place them on your waist , holding you close to him as he leaned in and kissed your cheek. "Not bad .... that's my girl", he mumbled against your cheek , his words filled with pride as he looked at the dummy.

˚.❀𝑹𝑖𝑘𝑖

You hummed to yourself as you made your way to the base of the gang Riki was apart of , a pink lunchbox in your hands since Riki forgot to take it with him ── you knew he was training right now so he needed the energy. "Oh (Y/n) ! Riki is in the ba──", you cut Jake off with a bright smile on your face . "In the back throwing punches at the punching bag , I know!", you chirped as you headed straight to the back , already hearing the sounds created by the impact of his boxing gloves hitting against the punching bag. You sat down on one of the metal benches nearby , watching your boyfriend with a smile on your face and waited for him to notice you.

He wasn't wearing a shirt so you certainly weren't complaining about the view , your eyes focused on his snatched waist with a small pout ── why was it always boys that got the things girls were jealous of ? It was unfair , really. He must've been training for a while now with how his skin was glistening in sweat.

You watched as he stopped for a second to take a breather , his eyes shortly glancing around before his head whipped into your direction when he got a glimpse of you , a smile making its way on his face.

"Princess , what are you doing here?", he asked with a breathy chuckle as he took his gloves off while walking over to you, grabbing the towel that was next to you to dab his sweat away , his eyes glancing at the pink lunchbox on your lap. "What's that?", he asked as he pointed at the box , a small huff leaving your lips. "The lunchbox I made for you just for you to forget it", you huffed out , a little sass in your response which only made him chuckle. His knees made a sound as he squatted down , his cheek resting against your thigh as he looked up to you.

"My bad... I knew I forgot something. I'll eat it now Princess , I'm starving anyway. Thank you for coming to bring it to me .... but first ── I need some kisses to recharge", he grinned , his hands resting on your thighs to push himself up and get the kisses he wanted.

[miyukisu]

No Matter What .ᐟ

❤︎ | If Umemiya Hajime promises you something—best believe he's keeping it (1.3k wc) ╰ feat. umemiya hajime (winbre) x afab! reader

tags - reader gets hurt, mentions of violence and injuries, angst to comfort, fluff, happy ending, caring ume, friends to lovers -ish, no y/n

a/n - this was a request on my other blog

MEGA MASTERLIST

"If you need help—no matter what it is—just call me and I'll be there."

Those were the words that Umemiya Hajime told you the first time you met him. And maybe he was just being nice. Maybe he only told you that because you were Kotoha's friend. Sure, he was the head of Furin and Furin's supposed to save the people of this town—but that doesn't mean that Ume would always be at your beck and call.

It doesn't necessarily mean that he'll be there for you no matter what.

Because you were just that—Kotoha's friend. You weren't anyone important that the top dog of Furin would come in and rescue you. But, God, you wished that you were.

You let those sweet words float by you at first, but now it was the only thing you were holding on to. That and your dwindling hope.

How did it come to this? Why did they have to come to the cafe at exactly the time that you were alone? Why did Kotoha leave you alone? Not that you blame her... but you do blame whoever these people are—for being so weak that they would hold a grudge against Furin, going as far as torturing the people that mattered to their leader rather than aiming for him themselves.

They were after Kotoha; that much you were sure of. Though, they figured, you could also be someone important to Umemiya Hajime. So they beat you up for safe measure. Perhaps a consolation that they couldn't get their true target.

You could only watch as they continued to trash the place, trying to send a message to Furin that they were dead serious about this feud—a feud that you unfortunately got tangled up in.

With your back facing the door, you were a witness to their wickedness. As much as you wanted to shout or flee for your life, you were frozen in place. Softly, you could only whisper his name—a futile prayer on deaf ears.

But Ume had a knack for turning bleak situations upside down. Too absorbed in fear, you failed to notice an intense presence make its way into the cafe. A newfound weight was put on your shoulders, a coat which you instinctively held on to. It radiated a masculine smell and it comforted you because it smelled exactly like him.

"Can you make do with my jacket for now? Just gotta deal with these guys first," he says, turning to look back at you with a reassuring smile.

Dumbfounded, you simply nodded at him, allowing him what he does best: saving the people he cares about. He effortlessly plowed his way through his opponents. His face showed no emotion, punch after punch. Part of you could tell that he was holding back; he could do even worse to them than this.

When all was said and done, Ume gave them a warning—more so a threat to be honest. The men almost crawled their way out of the place. Only then did you see a speck of emotion on Ume's face.

He was seething. The aftermath of the gang's actions made his blood boil. And to think what could have happened if Kotoha were there...

But most of all—and the reality is—you were the one that got hurt. You were no Kotoha, but Ume cared about you all the same. He was that type of guy after all.

Once he had calmed down, he knelt down in front of you. HIs face relaxed a bit, hoping it could calm you down.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier. I really am."

You quickly shook your head, still holding on to the jacket he perched on your shoulders a few minutes ago. "No... please don't apologize. I'm just glad that you came at all."

Ume's expression softened, feeling bad that someone like you had to go through such a traumatic experience. He wanted to tuck the lock of hair behind your ear and to cup your cheek at that moment, but decided against it. There were more pressing issues than giving into his impulses at the moment—like getting you to safety for instance.

That's how you found yourself being carried on his back. You insisted that you could walk, but he was as stubborn as you.

"Are you sure the cafe will be alright?"

"Of course! The other guys should be there with Kotoha now—cleaning around and stuff," he says.

"What about you though?"

"Me?"

"Don't you want to be there with Kotoha? I'm sure the other guys would have been able to help me..."

He lets out a short chuckle. "You want someone else to help you? What's wrong with me?"

"What? I didn't mean it like that. You know what I'm talking about so—"

A smile graces his face, glad to be so quick-witted. "Then just get comfortable behind there and let me bring you home."

Not that he could see your face, but you hid your flustered face behind his shoulder anyway.

────────────

Ume carried you all the way inside your house and at this point you've learned that it was fruitless to refuse his kindness. He gently places you down on the sofa before facing you with his usual positive expression.

"Alright. You got a first aid kit somewhere?" he asked with his hands on his hips, looking around as if he'd find it in plain sight.

"It should be in the bottom cabinet in the bathroom... um, first door to your right when you go up the stairs," you sheepishly respond.

He nods. "Got it. I'll be back."

Sure that he was gone, you let out the breath you've been holding for a while. You were glad that no one else was home. Otherwise, you'd have to deal with explaining as well.

And... maybe it would be nice to be alone with Ume even for just a while.

You see him come down the stairs and jog towards the hall leading to the kitchen. The fridge opens and closes, and you wonder what he's up to. Although, soon as he comes back with the kit and ice pack in hand—you understood the quick kitchen detour.

"Got some ice from the fridge. Here," he says, handing the pack to you. "Your knee looks pretty swollen. You'll need that."

You softly thank him for his thoughtfulness and he kneels down in front of you once more. He raises his hands, "You okay with a bit of touching?" preempting you to his care.

"Yeah... though it's a bit embarrassing that you have to tend to my wounds when I can do it myself."

He already had a cotton ball with antiseptic. One hand holding your leg up with the other dabbing the medicine on your cuts, he smiled thoughtlessly to himself.

"Wouldn't let a lady tend to her wounds herself, would I?"

"Knowing you... I guess you wouldn't."

He looks up at you with a grin. "Besides, I told you I'd always be there for you. Even after we get you all patched up and ready to go to the pastry shop downtown to get a sweet treat to lift your mood—I'll still be there. Someone's gotta carry you, right?"

You didn't think it was possible for you to smile, let alone laugh, after that incident. But here you were, giggling while Ume cared for your wounds.

"We're going to the pastry shop after this?"

"You bet."

It was this day that you learned: Umemiya Hajime keeps his promises no matter what.

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note I used to post a lot of WinBre on my main blog, like 40% of it used to be WinBre. But this is my first fic about it on this blog. Hope I still ate.

[wonderjanga]

The Wizard

Marvel gets smacked so hard he thinks he’s Shazam. That’s it.

Superman: *helps Marvel up* “Oh my Rao, are you okay??”

Marvel: *confused as to who the man in blue is* “Yes, I am fine.” *brushes himself off and sees a giant space ship in the sky* “What in the world is that?”

Supes: “It’s the ship?”

Marvel: “What ship?”

Supes: “The ship that’s invading us- you know the drill. Aliens come to earth, and we take them out. Marvel are you okay?

Marvel: “I already said I am fine, and my name isn’t Marvel, I am Sha-”

*they get shot at by the ship*

Marvel: “Never mind. Let me take care of this.”

Supes: “Wait, Cap!”

Marvel: *proceeds to ram himself into the ship leaving a Cap sized hole*

Said ship proceeded to start falling on the city below. The heroes then immediately rushed to try and stop it from landing on the city.

And before anyone says this is out of character, this is young, kinda old, but still young Shazam. This man was a shepherd. From like 9000 years ago. This man prayed to the Gods so hard they were like, “here, take these powers. Go nuts, freaky bro.” To which he then went on to murder all the people who murdered his family. He could’ve been unhinged because I don’t think you understand how much hatred that man must’ve put into his prayers for the gods to notice him.

Back at the Watchtower…

GL: You were a shepherd? Like a dude that herds sheep type of shepherd?”

Marvel: “Yes.”

WW: “How does one go from herding sheep to being a super hero?”

Marvel: “A gang of thieves killed my family. So I prayed, and the gods blessed me, princess.”

WW: “Oh… I apologize-

Marvel: “Then killed off the bandits.”

GL: *chokes on spit and coughs a lot* “What?”

Marvel: “I hunted them down and killed them all.”

WW and GL: *share a concerned look before looking back at Marvel*

WW: “We were all under the impression that you refrained from killing anyone. Regardless of whether or not they were a bad person.”

Marvel: “What made you think that? In this strange future, have I stopped?”

GL: “As far as we know!”

Then there was the inevitable time Shazam had enough of being called Cap, or a Marvel, or even worse Captain Marvel.

Marvel: “Why do you all keep calling me that?”

Supes: “No offense, but you’ve… Never really told us your name.”

Marvel: “I haven’t? Do I not trust you? Aren’t you all my future comrades?”

Supes: “We are! We’ve known you for four, almost five years. It’s just, whenever we ask, you kind of just shut down.”

Marvel: “Really? Then I might as well get it out of the way. My name is Shazam.” *gets lightninged into little billy and sees how little he is* “WHAT IN THE GODS NAMES?”

[slasherscream]

crazy ass boys gang + reader who threatens to leave (part two: CAPTIVITY) 

warnings: extreme yandere behavior - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. part one can be found here.

BILLY LOOMIS:

The days move at a snail’s pace. There’s little distraction available to you. 

Billy has always thought you were clever. A survivor. It’s one of the reasons he fell in love. That sharpness to you. But it makes you completely untrustworthy, given the circumstances. And the circumstances are this: your life for the last few weeks has consisted of being chained to the bed.

Not all the time. Not when Billy is home, and can watch you. But when he goes to work, or goes off to kill, Billy takes out the cuffs, and meticulously locks your ankles and feet to the bed. The dark look on his face as he does it makes you watch the process in silence. 

He’s been killing more often. You hope, absently, that he’s still being careful to not get caught. In the years since you two had been together he’d slowed down.

Now, it feels like every other night, you were watching him get ready to go out as Ghostface.

You can tell when he’ll go out next by how he treats you the day before. You two don’t talk anymore. You eat together in silence. Sit together in silence. He watches the dark silhouette of your body through the shower curtain, in silence. (You’re never alone, anymore, when you do anything. When you’re allowed to do anything. You don’t have even a sliver of his trust left.)

But how he watches you is the tell. 

His expression has been a mask of neutrality, since the moment you first woke up, cuffed to the bed. 

On the days before he goes out to kill, though? Those are the days where the mask keeps cracking. Small glimpses at the anger sitting in his chest like a second heart, beating steadily. The silence only makes it worse. Makes the anger red hot and blinding. 

It’s the icy silence of a lover scorned, on his part. And yours is the fearful silence of the last survivor of a horror movie trying to evade the killer at the end. 

The two of you used to laugh together. Laugh, and smile, and love each other. But you, apparently, don’t love Billy anymore. 

But Billy still loves you. So he stares at you until he gets too angry to think straight. And he goes out and kills as many people as it will take to keep himself from ever hurting you. 

JOSH WASHINGTON: 

You’re getting sick of hearing how sorry he is. 

He says it endlessly. Like a prayer. Like a compulsion. The words fall out his mouth as easily as breaths do. 

It feels like you wake up to his apologies and fall asleep to them each night. 

Josh only tied you up that one time, at the start. He apologizes about it often. “I panicked. I’ll never do it again. Not ever. I’m sorry.” You believe him, maybe you shouldn’t, but you do. He’d untied you as soon as you’d begun to rub your wrists raw from trying to get out of the cuffs. 

Once upon a time, you used to use those cuffs on him, at the start of everything. Back when Josh felt he was more monster than Human. Back when he didn’t trust himself not to hurt you. You’d obliged him and would cuff him to the bed before you went to sleep each night, even as you whispered: you couldn’t hurt a fly, Washington. 

You feel like a fly now, in a nasty spider’s web. But you don’t even bother struggling. 

When you’d rescued him from the mountains, his parents had set you both up somewhere remote. Not on another mountain, of course, but in a comfortable cabin out in a forest. No neighbors for miles and miles. Everything you need gets delivered to you twice a month. You used to make the lists of the necessities and send it off to the Washingtons, who were only too happy to give you anything you asked for. 

You’re still getting the deliveries, so you guess Josh has taken over that chore of communicating with his parents. 

You could run away. You could. But you remember how hard it was to out run the monsters on the mountain. You remember watching your friends die, one by one. By claws and by teeth, as they tried to run away. You watched almost all of them die. Or found their bodies. 

Josh wouldn’t kill you. Despite everything, you know he isn’t capable of that. 

Sometimes he still reaches out and touches your wrist, where you’d made yourself bleed with the cuffs, and looks sick to his stomach. They hadn’t even left a mark. But Josh stares at your wrists like a kicked dog, like any day, all these months later, they’ll show up by magic.

No, Josh wouldn’t kill you. He wouldn’t even hurt you. But you know you wouldn’t get very far. The forest isn’t a mountain, but it’s close enough. Sometimes you sit on the porch and just look out at all the trees that border the property line, and try to think about how long it would take him to catch you. 

Ten minutes? Thirty? An hour? You always make yourself laugh, with that last one. 

He’d never let you run for that long. He’d be terrified you’d get lost. Get hurt. He’d drag you back to the cabin, arms a tight-but-never-bruising cage around your waist, and you could claw him to shreds like a hellcat all the while, and you know the only thing he’d say would be: I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

You don’t want to hear him say it anymore because it isn’t true. For every apology he gives you, every tearful glance, there’s something beneath it - utter relief, delight, that he’s even able to tell you he’s sorry. That he can reach out and put a hesitant hand on your arm. That he can look over and see you stewing in your anger. 

If Josh let you leave he would have been alone. And Josh has been alone before. He can’t handle it. Not for one second longer. So all that’s left to say is sorry.

STU MACHER:

It’s terrifying how normal he acts.

Love had blinded you before. You’re not sure how, but now you can see Stu for exactly what he is. You don’t ever let yourself forget now. You’d made that mistake once, you can’t make it again. 

You’re not sure how no one else sees it. 

You watch him endlessly. It’s all you can do. Always on edge. Always waiting for him to snap. You watch him at parties while he effortlessly holds the attention of the room. You watch him during dates, while he talks to the waiter like they’re long lost pals. You watch him charm all your friends, all your family. You watch how everyone laughs off all the little creepy things he says. He slips up so often. But he smiles just as often, and his laugh is contagious. The whole world has written him off as an eternally playful man-child. Peter Pan, born again.

You flinch whenever he comes up behind you, draping himself onto your body in that playful way he always has. 

You’d never focused on how much stronger he was before. Now, it’s all you ever think about. You close your eyes, and feel the strength in his arms, and plaster a smile on your face, thinking: Please don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me. 

He seems to have moved on so completely from it all. You wake up in the middle of the night in tears, remembering how much blood had covered your apartment on the worst night of your life. Stu marked the date on your calendar as your new anniversary. 

The heart he made had been comically large, eclipsing the tiny box of the day in red marker. You’d forced yourself to laugh at the enthusiasm and give him a kiss on the cheek. His eyes had been glued to your face. For just a beat too long. You watching him. Him watching you. He’s always watching you now. You feel the burn of his gaze on the back of your neck like a second sun.

You’d felt your smile shaking at the edges. Your eyes starting to sting. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. You begged yourself as those sharp blue eyes scrutinized you. Waiting for you to slip. But you didn’t, so he grabbed you around the waist, dipped you low, and kissed you like you were a lead in a rom-com at the end of the movie. 

“We’re almost at our happily ever after, you know.” He’d slyly said at a party with all your friends and family, his arm thrown casually over your shoulder. 

He playfully tells your best friend they’re gonna have to help him pick out a ring soon. Everyone laughs and congratulates you. Tells you how lucky you are. 

You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and make yourself laugh too, “Don’t I know it!”

JASON DEAN/JD: 

You have to say I love you a lot more. 

He doesn’t ask for the words. He never would, beyond saying them first and giving you an expectant look. Green eyes boring into yours, begging you to say it back. You could so easily interpret that expectant look as a demand. But you know it isn’t. It’s desperation. 

You say it more because there’s a pit in your stomach. And it twists every time you see how much worse the tangled weeds of that desperation for your love has gotten within JD. 

He’s your shadow, more often than not. Like if he takes his eyes off you for just a second too long you’ll disappear. It wouldn’t be an unfounded fear, with the life he’s lived. All that he’s lost. 

You don’t know why you said something so cruel to him. So thoughtless. JD pushes because he likes the passion you two share. Because he needs to know you care. Not because he wants to push you away. And now he looks at you like a kicked dog every time he thinks you’re not paying attention. But you’re always paying attention. 

You wish you could take the words back. Pluck them from the air and swallow them down, bury them somewhere deep inside you. 

I didn’t mean them. I swear I didn’t mean them. I was just stressed. You just push me so much. But you keep those words inside too. It’s bad enough you said them once. You don’t want to remind JD of them. Bring them up again. It’s clear from how he’s acting they’ve been bouncing around his head already. 

He’s been more quiet than usual. Trapped in his head. He doesn’t even look up when you walk into the room. The look on his face makes you ache. 

You curl up into his side, wrapping your arms around him, and squeeze as tight as you can. So he can feel you by his side, solid and permanent. “I love you, JD.” 

He turns to look at you. Those sharp eyes searching for any hint you don’t mean it. That these pretty words are the lie, and the wanting to leave him was the nasty truth. 

You meet his gaze head on. You would tell him how sorry you are, but you don’t want to think about how cruel you can be, when you get mad. “I love you.” You repeat, instead.

Finally he smiles at you, “Yeah, I know you do, darlin’.”

KEVIN KHATCHADOURIAN: 

You don’t have to pretend you’re happy. In fact, when you try, it makes Kevin very angry. 

He never tells you to stop. But whenever you try to fake a little enthusiasm. Put on a little smile you don’t mean… the look on his face is enough to make you feel sick. His expression hardly moves. It’s the look in his eyes. Like he wants to hurt you. Badly. 

So you stop pretending. 

He demands your presence. Your attention. He doesn’t want your disingenuous attempts to placate him. 

You sit in silence more often than not. 

You used to try and fill the air between you. The more he would stare at you, the more you would talk. He’d hardly blink. Just watching as you’d wind yourself up under the force of your own anxiety. He rarely told you to be quiet. You think Kevin must’ve liked watching you squirm. Watching you uhm and ah, only pausing for breaths, because otherwise the silence would be deafening. And all that would be left would be the suffocating weight of his gaze. 

You don’t bother talking now. What could you say? 

Now you stare back. He’d almost looked surprised, the first time. When you turned to look at him, while he looked at you. You didn’t stop until it was time for you to head home.

That’s how you spend all your time with each other now. You arrive at his home. You take off your shoes. You make your way to his bedroom. Sit on his bed. You take a deep breath, and then you stare at him, and he stares back. 

You hate him. A very big part of you hates him. An even bigger part of you is terrified of him. 

You carry on like this for months. Passing the time. Feeling isolated. Like a trapped mouse, or bird in a cage, even as you live every aspect of your life completely identical to the way you did before you knew what Kevin was capable of. There’s no chain around your wrist or ankle. No guillotine blade on your neck. But the threat is still there, and life feels paper thin now. Like some veil has been pulled back. It all feels meaningless. 

You hate him. But there’s no one you can talk to. No one to turn to. You don’t dare turn to anyone else. 

So one day, while you’re staring each other down you reach into the space between you on the bed with your hand, and lay it down palm up. Kevin’s eyes flicker down, sizing up your hand, sizing up you. After a long moment he puts his hand in yours. 

You go back to staring at each other.

NATHAN PRESCOTT: 

Nathan hates the way you flinch when he gets too close. 

He tries to be understanding. He doesn’t have a right to be hurt, after what he’s done. It hurts anyway. He just tries not to let it show. He’s sure that would make you angry. Him walking around like a little victim when he fucking kidnapped you. He makes himself angry. He makes himself sick. 

But at least he has you. You hate his guts, but you’re with him. 

Nathan tries to tell himself that’s all that matters. But he misses the way things used to be like he’d miss a leg that got cut off. Phantom aches all day long. Every time he looks at you, and finds you already looking at him, hatefully. You used to look at him like you’d never get tired of him. 

He still wants to know what finally made you tired of him. But he doesn’t have the right to ask. So he doesn’t ask. 

He reinforced the cabin so you can’t get out. If you try you’ll have to make so much noise there’s not a hope in hell he won’t hear. He can’t bear to tie you up, or chain you. You’re a fighter, and he’s not much of one, so he probably should. But he can’t. He’d tried and it made him sick. He’d actually thrown up over it. 

He keeps you lightly drugged instead.

He’d thrown up over that too. But he had to do something. 

He’s always careful about the dosage. Careful about every step of the process. He’ll never mess it up. Not ever. He loves you. He’d hurt you once, and he’ll never do it again. He doesn’t want to fight you. Doesn’t want you to fight each other. 

You love each other. It might take a while, but one day you’ll remember that. Until you do, you’ll both stay here, far away from anyone else. Nathan hopes you’ll remember soon.

SEBASTIAN VALMONT: 

He’s going to make you fall in love with him again. 

If he was stronger he’d let you go. Hell, he wouldn’t have paid someone to kidnap you in the first place. But Sebastian has always gotten everything he wanted. And he’s never wanted anything as much as he wants you. He’s never loved anyone as much as he loves you. Maybe, before you, he never loved anyone at all.

You split his chest open and carved out a space inside him where only you can fit. You’re the single occupant of his heart. Forever. You can’t expect him to just turn it off. Can’t expect him to forget you. He tried, and he failed. 

So now he’s going to try something else. He’s going to win you back. Obviously, this isn’t the best starting point. But there have been worse starting points for rekindling a romance. 

He hires only one chef and one maid for your new penthouse. He pays them very well to never ask any questions. And to never, ever help you escape. The money is too good to turn down. Life-changing, really. So they never help.

It’s just you and him. The way it was always meant to be. 

You do candlelit dinners every night. You wake up, every morning, to flowers outside your door. Sebastian fulfills your every desire. Hangs on to your every word. You can have anything you want. Do anything you want. You just can’t leave. Not yet. Not until you’re in love with him again. Then life can go back to normal. 

He’d laughed when you asked him if he was going to keep you in the penthouse with him forever. He laughed until he had to wipe a tear from his eye. Then he leaned forward and kissed you softly. “No, sweetheart, I’m not crazy. Just crazy about you.” 

There are a lot of locks on the front door. You’ve never even seen the keys for them. The windows don’t open. Even if they did… the penthouse is twenty stories up, you wouldn’t survive the fall. 

Sebastian opens your bedroom door, giving you a smile that’s both cocky and charming. Hiding something behind his back. Another gift. “Good morning, gorgeous.” 

You smile. Reflex, and don’t know if it’s because you’re too scared not to, or because looking at him makes you want to smile. Sebastian gives you a gentle kiss on the cheek, the way he does when he’s happy. 

Nothing makes Sebastian more happy than getting what he wants.

A/N: we all know it took me forever to do this part two. if you enjoyed this fic consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! a writers fuel is engagement. and this fic took too damn long to write. xoxoxo

[missmadella]

"Prayers and Boba Fight" (Mikey x Reader)

Summary: “You never meant to meet him like that. But fate — and a little chaos — had other plans.”

It started on a snowy Christmas Eve. You were just going to the church to light a candle… not expecting to find a battlefield outside. Black Dragons on the ground. Draken on the stairs. And you, sitting beside him like it was the most natural thing in the world — shooting boba pearls at anyone who dared to twitch.

Then he came out of the church. Manjirō Sano. Mikey. And he stared at you like the world just flipped on its head.

From that moment, everything changed.

You didn’t plan to fall in love. You definitely didn’t plan to fall fast. But there you were — kissing in the snow, tangled in warm blankets, meeting his family, becoming part of Toman’s chaos and heart all at once.

Words: 6585

Snow fell in soft silence as you crossed the last street toward the old church.

Your breath puffed out in front of you like a cloud, swirling before disappearing into the chilled December night. You had bundled up—scarf tight, coat buttoned high, fingers tucked into your sleeves—but the cold still nipped at your skin. It was Christmas Eve, and the city had gone quiet, streets empty save for the occasional car or flickering streetlamp. It was your favorite kind of night. Still. Sacred.

The church wasn’t far now. You came every year—alone, mostly. Sometimes to light a candle, sometimes to sit in the pews and just breathe. No grand religious reasons, really. Just... peace. A quiet kind of hope.

But tonight, that peace cracked before you even reached the front steps.

Your boots slowed on the icy sidewalk as your eyes scanned the strange scene in front of you: several boys, unconscious or groaning, lay scattered near the stone stairs leading up to the warm-lit entrance of the church.

You blinked. Leather jackets. “Black Dragons,” stitched in bold. Bloodied knuckles. Some were clutching sides, others simply lying still with snow gathering in their hair.

What the hell?

And then you saw him.

Sitting casually at the top of the stairs, one arm resting on his bent knee, was a tall boy with a thick braid and a black jacket slung lazily over one shoulder. He was still, quiet, watching. His eyes met yours as you stopped at the base of the steps.

He didn’t move.

You didn’t either.

“…It’s safe,” he said finally. His voice was low, even, almost bored. “They’re not getting up anytime soon.”

You glanced around again. “Looks like it.”

The stranger didn’t respond.

You hesitated for a moment, then stepped lightly over one of the groaning boys and climbed the stairs. You didn’t go inside. Instead, you sat on the step just beneath his—keeping one foot angled toward the warmth behind the doors, just in case this was a mistake.

He didn’t stop you.

Up close, you could see blood on his knuckles, a fresh cut on his cheekbone. His breathing was steady, like the adrenaline had worn off, but he was still alert. Not relaxed exactly—just patient. Like he was waiting for something or someone.

You pulled out the only thing in your bag that felt vaguely festive: a half-finished cup of bubble tea, still cold from being buried between gloves and a wrapped apple.

You took a sip. Then another.

The boy looked at you again, one brow raised. “You came to the church with boba?”

“Technically, I came with boba to the vicinity of the church,” you replied. “I didn’t think there’d be a fight club on the front lawn.”

He chuckled—just once. “It was supposed to be quick.”

You tilted your head. “You win?”

He glanced at the pile of groaning gang members behind you. “What do you think?”

Fair enough.

You sipped again, then idly drew a tapioca ball up the straw and aimed it like a tiny cannon.

Plop.

The pearl bounced harmlessly off one of the Black Dragons’ shoulders. The guy groaned again and rolled over.

You nodded to yourself. “Fifty points.”

“...What?”

“Body shot,” you said seriously, adjusting your aim. “Head’s a hundred.”

The boy blinked.

You fired another. Plop. Missed.

“Zero,” you muttered.

Now he was watching you with something between confusion and amusement. “You’re scoring your boba shots?”

“I was coming to pray,” you said, as though that explained everything. “But the view kind of changed. So I improvised.”

He let out a dry laugh, genuinely amused. “That’s the weirdest thing I’ve seen all night. And I just watched a guy try to swing a tire iron at my face.”

“You ducked, I’m assuming?”

“Mostly.”

You grinned, reloading with another pearl. “Want to help? You can call the targets.”

He raised a brow. “You’re joking.”

“I’m festive,” you replied. “This is a holiday activity now.”

For a long second, he stared at you like you were from another planet. Then, to your surprise, he leaned forward slightly and gestured to a Black Dragon twitching by the railing.

“That one moved.”

You fired. Plop.

“Shoulder again.”

“Fifty.”

And just like that, the two of you sat on the church steps, scoring unconscious gang members like it was a twisted video game. He pointed. You shot. Occasionally, he judged your aim with unfiltered honesty (“That was pathetic,” “You call that a headshot?”), and you replied with dramatic gasps and mock offense.

There was something oddly natural about it. The quiet laughter. The light from the stained-glass windows. The sound of the wind whistling gently through the church spire.

“I’m Draken, by the way,” he said after a while.

You looked at him.

“Real name’s Ken, but no one calls me that.”

“Draken,” you repeated. “Cool name.”

He shrugged. “Yours?”

“(Y/N).” You offered him a gloved hand.

He didn’t hesitate. His handshake was warm, firm. “Nice to meet you, Boba Sniper.”

You snorted. “I’ve been called worse.”

“Bet.”

Another groan from below caught your attention. One of the thugs tried to sit up.

“Headshot opportunity,” Draken murmured.

You nodded solemnly. “Don’t miss this one.”

Plop.

Right on the temple.

“One hundred.”

You both laughed again.

Then the church doors creaked behind you.

Muffled footsteps.

You turned your head slightly.

A small group emerged—five or six guys, all bruised but buzzing with victory. They stopped halfway through the doorway as soon as they spotted you sitting on the steps beside Draken.

The boy in the center had pale blond hair and dark, unreadable eyes. He wore a hoodie under his coat, and there was a bruise just starting to form on his cheekbone.

He froze in place.

Draken didn’t even turn. “Took you long enough.”

Mikey didn’t respond. He was too busy staring.

You looked back at him, blinking. “Hi.”

His eyes flicked to the cup in your hands, then to the scattered pearls on the ground. One was still slowly rolling down the stairs like a marble.

“What… is going on here?” Mitsuya asked, stepping around Mikey with a cautious frown.

“She’s playing sniper,” Draken said simply. “With tapioca.”

Mikey’s gaze hadn’t left your face. You tilted your head at him, smile gentle.

“I was passing by,” you explained. “Came to pray. Saw the chaos. Decided to join in with my own weapons.”

She’s beautiful, Mikey thought, not entirely prepared for how breathless it made him.

Snowflakes clung to your hair. Your cheeks were red from the cold, and your fingers clutched the empty cup like a goblet. But it wasn’t just your looks. It was your presence—like you weren’t afraid to be odd, weren’t trying to impress anyone, just… living.

“Did it help?” Takemichi asked hesitantly. “The, uh… prayer?”

You smiled softly. “Haven’t gone in yet. Got a little distracted.”

Draken stood, brushing the snow from his coat. “She’s weird,” he said matter-of-factly, then added, “But she’s cool.”

You shrugged. “Takes one to know one.”

Then you turned your gaze back to Mikey.

He swallowed.

You held the cup out toward him. “You wanna try?”

The question was casual, but your eyes held something more — challenge, curiosity, invitation.

Mikey took a slow step forward.

“I’ve never fired tapioca before,” he said honestly.

“First time for everything.”

He sat on the step below you and took the cup from your hand. His fingers brushed yours — warm, even through your glove. You guided his hand, adjusting the angle of the straw, your voice soft now, as if this was a ritual instead of a game.

“There,” you said. “Now exhale. Don’t hesitate.”

Plop.

A hit. Mid-chest. One of the Black Dragons groaned in protest.

“Fifty points,” you whispered.

Mikey looked up at you.

You smiled. “Not bad.”

And just like that, his entire heart tilted toward you.

The others eventually filtered back inside, murmuring about warmth and bruises and food. But Mikey didn’t move.

You stayed on the steps together for a while longer—snow falling around you, the church bell chiming the hour.

And Mikey, Tokyo’s toughest leader, found something he hadn’t expected on a cold Christmas Eve: a quiet kind of warmth. And a girl with a boba cup who had already stolen his attention—and maybe, if he was lucky, a little more.

___________________________________________________________________________

You tilted the bubble tea cup, squinting inside. Only slush and a few lonely pearls remained, clinging to the plastic walls like the end of a long battle.

You gave it one final shake. Plop. A weak little bounce off someone's ankle. No more fight left in it.

“That’s it,” you sighed. “I’m officially out of ammo.”

Draken stood beside you, stretching his back with a grunt. “Guess the war’s over.”

You handed the cup over to him with a small grin. “Bury it with honors.”

He gave a lazy salute and dropped the cup gently into the trash bin by the steps. “You still gonna go in?”

You looked toward the glowing doors of the church. Warm light spilled out through the stained-glass windows, painting little patches of red and blue across the snow. Your smile softened.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I think I will.”

Just as you were about to step forward, Mikey’s voice reached you.

“I’ll go with you.”

You turned your head.

He was still seated a few steps below, hands resting in the pockets of his coat, but his gaze was steady—warm and open in a way you hadn’t expected from someone with such a reputation.

You blinked. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” he said, standing. “If that’s okay.”

It was more than okay.

You nodded, and without another word, you and Mikey stepped into the church together.

___________________________________________________________________________

The interior was quiet and still, with the warm hum of organ music echoing softly from speakers hidden somewhere in the walls. No choir. No mass tonight. Just the lingering scent of candle wax, pine, and something faintly floral from a wreath by the altar.

A few other people were scattered in the pews—some praying, others simply sitting in silence. The world outside could’ve been a thousand miles away.

Your steps echoed lightly as you moved toward the front, Mikey just behind you, hands still in his pockets, taking it all in with quiet curiosity.

You knelt at the side altar, where a small table offered rows of tiny candles—some already lit, flickering in shallow pools of wax. You dropped a coin in the donation box and selected a match from the little tin, striking it gently against the side.

Mikey stayed back, watching.

You lit your candle carefully and placed it in the stand, letting the flame catch fully before pulling your hand away. Then you sat back on your heels, hands in your lap, just watching it burn for a long moment.

You didn’t say a word.

And Mikey didn’t ask.

When you finally stood again, he stepped forward and looked at the candle with a curious tilt of his head.

“Do you do this every year?”

“Mm-hmm,” you said. “Been coming since I was little. Light a candle, make a wish, thank the universe for letting me live another year. That kind of thing.”

He smiled faintly. “That’s kinda nice.”

You looked at him. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You ever do something like this? Quiet stuff. Peaceful stuff.”

He was quiet for a beat too long.

Then: “Not really.”

You nodded. “Would you want to?”

“…Maybe. Depends who I’m with.”

There was a pause between you then—not awkward, but full. Heavy in a way that felt meaningful. You looked up at him. He was already watching you.

“Your wish,” he said softly. “You gonna tell me what it was?”

You hesitated.

Then shrugged. “Only if you tell me yours.”

“I didn’t make one.”

You tilted your head. “Then make one now.”

He didn’t look away.

“I wish,” he said slowly, voice barely above a whisper, “that this night didn’t have to end.”

Your breath caught slightly.

“…That’s a good wish,” you murmured.

He smiled, just barely. “I thought so.”

___________________________________________________________________________

The two of you left the church a little while later. The others were gone now—Draken must’ve herded them back to wherever home base was for the night. The steps were empty, the snow had thickened, and the silence returned.

You both stood under the church archway, snow drifting down between you.

You turned to face him. “So... where do you go after a night like this?”

Mikey looked at you, his eyes soft and curious again. “Anywhere you are.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it.

Then smiled.

“…Smooth.”

He laughed—a real, quiet laugh. “Only a little.”

There was a moment where neither of you moved.

Then you stepped forward, brushed some snow off his shoulder, and said gently, “You coming, Mikey?”

He looked at you like no one ever had before.

And then he followed you down the stairs.

___________________________________________________________________________

You and Mikey stood at the bottom of the church steps, snowflakes catching in your hair and melting against your coat. The streetlamps gave everything a golden glow, and the whole city felt hushed, like it was holding its breath for something.

Mikey kicked at a patch of snow absently, his hands deep in his hoodie pockets. You were still looking up at the sky, breath misting in the air.

“I should walk you home,” he said, suddenly.

You turned toward him, surprised. “What?”

He shifted his weight. “I mean, it’s late. You never know who’s still lurking around.” He glanced back at the faint memory of the Black Dragons, now long gone. “Could be more of those guys.”

You gave a soft laugh, your voice gentler now. “I appreciate that, but…”

You paused, then looked up at the sky again.

“…I don’t really wanna go home yet.”

Mikey blinked. “Why not?”

You didn’t answer right away.

Finally, you said, “It’s just… when I’m out here, walking, or watching the snow, it feels like time slows down. Like I’m not supposed to be anywhere. Not expected to be anything. At home, I always feel like I’m... running out of time, or energy, or space.”

He didn’t rush to respond.

Instead, he nodded. “Yeah. I get that.”

You looked at him again, surprised by how much he meant it.

“You do?”

Mikey’s eyes were soft now, distant. “Most people expect me to be the strongest, the leader. Toman’s ‘Invincible Mikey.’” He said it like it was someone else's name. “But out here, when it’s quiet like this... it’s like none of that matters. I’m just me.”

You gave him a long look, snow still drifting lazily down between you.

Then, quietly: “So we’re both hiding in the snow.”

He smiled. “Maybe. Or maybe we’re just finally showing who we really are.”

For a while, you walked in companionable silence, your boots crunching softly. The street you wandered down was lined with old houses wrapped in fairy lights. Some windows flickered with candles. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked, and a train horn called out, distant and sleepy.

“So,” Mikey said, nudging your elbow. “What kind of person are you when you’re not sniping people with boba balls?”

You snorted. “Bold of you to assume I have other hobbies.”

“Oh no,” he said dramatically. “Are you telling me that was your entire personality?”

You smirked. “That and aggressively yelling at movie characters.”

“Nice. I yell at ramen bowls when they’re too hot.”

“That feels targeted.”

He grinned. “Only if the boba fits.”

You were both laughing now, your steps light in the snow. The conversation had drifted into comfortable teasing and shared stories—his favorite manga, your terrible cooking, his obsession with taiyaki, your failed attempt to skateboard once (you hit a trash can). He asked you questions you weren’t used to answering. You answered ones he never thought anyone would care to ask.

Eventually, your walk took you to a quiet park dusted in white. The benches were buried, and the swings swayed slightly in the breeze.

And then—

You stopped, reached down, and scooped up a handful of snow.

Mikey caught the movement too late.

Thwump.

A clean hit to the side of his jacket.

He stared down at the wet patch, then slowly raised his gaze to you.

You grinned like a villain. “Fifty points.”

He blinked.

Then crouched down wordlessly, scooping snow with both hands.

“Oh no,” you said, backing up. “You wouldn’t—”

Thwump.

You shrieked as snow caught your shoulder, and Mikey laughed—really laughed—as you ducked behind a tree.

“Head’s a hundred, right?” he called.

“I will end you, Sano Manjirō!”

It turned into chaos fast.

Snow flying. Boots slipping. Laughter echoing in the night. You tackled him behind a bench once; he shoved a clump down the back of your coat in revenge. You both shouted threats that meant nothing and laughed until your stomachs hurt and your hands stung.

Eventually, you both collapsed onto a park bench, breathless, cheeks pink, snow in your hair.

You were still smiling as you caught your breath. “You’re ruthless.”

“I learned from the best,” he replied, bumping his shoulder into yours.

There was a quiet that settled after that. A calm one.

Mikey turned his head toward you, his voice lower now.

“I’m really glad I met you tonight.”

You turned to him. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “You’re not like anyone I’ve met before.”

You gave him a soft look. “Same.”

The snow fell around you like it had all night, but now, under that hush, with Mikey beside you, it didn’t feel like hiding anymore.

It felt like being found.

___________________________________________________________________________

You both sat in silence for a little while, the cold forgotten under the warmth of shared laughter and a night that felt too perfect to end. Snow had gathered in the folds of your coats, in Mikey’s hair, on your lashes. But you didn’t move.

Neither did he.

The quiet of the city stretched around you like a blanket.

Then, hesitantly, Mikey shifted a little, turning more toward you.

“I, uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck with a gloved hand. “I don’t usually do this kind of thing.”

You tilted your head. “Throw snowballs at strangers?”

He gave you a half-laugh. “That too. But I meant… talk to someone like this. Not on a night like this.”

You looked at him for a long second, then smiled gently.

“I’m glad you did.”

He looked down at his hands, then back up—eyes searching yours. “Can I… see you again?”

Your heart did a small, quiet somersault.

You didn’t answer immediately. You wanted to remember how he looked right now—soft and hopeful, like he wasn’t Mikey, the leader of Toman, the legendary fighter—but Mikey, the boy who had followed you into a church just to make sure you weren’t alone.

You nodded.

“I’d like that.”

His smile—genuine, wide, almost surprised—lit up his face in a way you hadn’t seen before.

“Maybe New Year’s Eve?” he asked, voice tentative. “If you’re not busy?”

You tapped your chin, pretending to think. “I might be booked sniping people with mochi balls this time.”

“Oh damn,” he said with mock seriousness. “I’ll bring armor.”

You giggled, and he looked like he wanted to bottle the sound.

Then you reached into your pocket, pulled out your phone, and handed it to him. “Here. So you don’t lose your target.”

He took it, fingers brushing yours.

You both froze for just a second at the touch. It was warm. Real.

He punched in his number, then handed it back, his name already saved as Mikey ☀️.

You smiled down at it.

“Sunshine?” you asked, teasing.

He shrugged with a lazy grin. “Just in case you forget who made your Christmas night better.”

You laughed, and when you stood, he did too.

As you both walked slowly down the snowy path, not quite ready to say goodbye, your shoulders bumped again.

Mikey looked up at the sky.

“So what do you wish for on New Year’s?”

You looked at him.

And this time, you didn’t hesitate.

“Something worth waiting for.”

His smile faltered just a little—but in the best way. Like it meant something to him.

And when you finally waved goodbye at the corner, snow still falling in quiet curtains, Mikey stood there watching you go until you disappeared into the night.

He pulled out his phone. Stared at your name. And whispered to himself,

“…Definitely worth waiting for.”

___________________________________________________________________________

Mikey POV:

At first, he didn’t even register her. He was still buzzing from the fight — fists raw, knuckles stinging, that slow-burning adrenaline fizzing out of his blood like smoke.

Draken sat on the steps, calm as always, arms folded like the battle hadn’t just happened. Mikey stood beside him, quiet, waiting for the rest of Toman to show.

Then... she came.

Just walked up like she belonged there.

Mikey watched her from the side of his vision — scarf a little crooked, cheeks pink from the cold, bubble tea in hand — stepping over unconscious Black Dragons like it was nothing. Like the whole scene wasn’t completely insane.

She didn’t say a word.

Just sat next to Draken, legs swinging, calm as still water.

Then she started shooting people.

Well... boba pearls, to be exact.

“Fifty points if I get the guy groaning over there,” she whispered to Draken, grinning.

Mikey blinked.

What.

Draken choked on a laugh. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” She sucked up a pearl, took aim, and thwip — nailed the guy in the shoulder.

He groaned louder.

Mikey couldn’t look away.

He didn’t know her name. He didn’t know where she came from, or why she wasn’t running in the opposite direction like any normal person would be. But in that moment, watching her laugh with Draken like they were kids on a playground — he knew something in his chest had moved.

Shifted.

Clicked.

He had no name for it.

Only this: I want to know her.

He barely heard the others approach. Barely registered questions being asked, or her explaining she had just come to pray.

He only remembered watching the snow land in her hair and thinking, She’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.

And for the first time in a long, long time... Mikey felt something new.

Hope.

___________________________________________________________________________

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

You’d only meant to see him again. Just to talk. Just to walk a little, maybe drink something warm. Like normal people figuring out whatever this was between them.

But the second you saw Mikey again — really saw him — with snow still in his hair and that same soft look in his eyes like he’d been waiting just for you—

—everything melted away.

Now your back was pressed against the wall of a narrow alley behind the café, breath hot in the winter air, his body close, too close, lips on yours like he was trying to memorize every second he hadn’t had you.

And God, you let him.

Mikey’s hands framed your face, thumbs brushing the edge of your jaw as he kissed you like he didn’t want to come up for air. His lips were soft but demanding — slow and then urgent, pulling sounds from your throat you didn’t know you could make. The kind of kiss that made your knees weak and your heart race and your fingers curl in his hoodie like you might fall apart without him.

He pulled back just a little, just enough to breathe, foreheads pressed together. His voice was low. Raw.

“I tried not to rush this,” he whispered, breathless, “I really did.”

Your hands were gripping his coat, your voice barely steady. “I know.”

“I thought it was just a crush at first. But I keep thinking about you. All the time.”

You nodded, heart pounding so loud it echoed in your ears.

“It’s not just you,” you murmured. “I feel crazy around you. Like I need you close or I’ll lose something I don’t even understand yet.”

He groaned softly at your words, like they undid him. “You’re not making this easy.”

“Neither are you.”

And then you kissed him again — hard, deep, like you were trying to prove something to each other. That this wasn’t some one-time spark. That this pull between you wasn’t fake, or fleeting. That whatever this was, it meant something.

Because when his lips found your neck and your hands tangled in his hair, you didn’t feel like you were rushing.

You felt like you were home.

“I should take you somewhere,” Mikey murmured against your lips between kisses, his breath warm on your skin. “Not like... behind a café.”

You chuckled softly, lips brushing his jaw. “You say that like you weren’t into it.”

“I was,” he admitted, kissing you again. “That’s the problem.”

You both stood there a moment, pressed close, hearts still racing, the city quiet behind you.

Then he paused, his forehead still resting against yours.

“My family’s out tonight,” he said suddenly, almost like he was confessing a secret. “Do you wanna… come over so I can introduce you to them later?”

You blinked.

Not because you didn’t want to.

But because it felt big.

Mikey never let people close.

And now he was offering you his space.

You smiled. “Yeah. I do.”

___________________________________________________________________________

His house was small, older, but warm in a way that said home, not just walls. Family photos on the walls, a faint smell of miso still lingering in the air. Mikey kicked off his shoes, his usual lazy swagger returning just slightly.

He led you to his room without hesitation.

And when he shut the door behind you, something shifted again.

The moment you were alone — really alone — it hit both of you at once.

You kissed first.

Or maybe he did.

It didn’t matter.

You ended up in his lap, on the edge of his bed, mouths moving in sync like you'd been kissing forever. His hands slid beneath the hem of your sweater just to feel the heat of your skin, his fingers gentle but hungry, pulling you closer. Your legs straddled his thighs, knees pressed into the mattress, your arms wrapped around his neck like you never wanted to let go.

Every kiss was deeper.

Slower.

Then desperate again.

Like you were trying to memorize the exact way this felt — the quiet. The heat. The fact that for once, nothing else in the world mattered.

Mikey let out a breathless laugh when you bit his lower lip, just barely. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

You smiled against his mouth. “Only for you.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing.”

“It is.”

He pulled you into another kiss, groaning softly into your mouth as you tugged him back down with you.

You didn’t hear the keys.

You didn’t hear the door.

You didn’t even notice anything—

—until a voice called from the hallway:

“Mikey? We’re back!”

Your body froze. He stiffened too, eyes wide.

“Shit,” he whispered.

You scrambled off him like the bed had caught fire, both of you laughing under your breath, cheeks flushed, hair a mess.

There was a knock at the door.

Mikey stood and cleared his throat like he hadn’t just had you in his lap. “Yeah?”

His sister cracked the door open.

“Oh—sorry, didn’t know you had someone over.”

Mikey stepped halfway out, shutting the door behind him with a quick smile. “Yeah. We were just… hanging out.”

The second it closed again, he turned to you, face red, expression torn between laughter and panic.

You collapsed back on the bed, giggling into your hands.

“That was way too close.”

“I know,” he said, dragging a hand through his hair. “You’re evil.”

“You invited me!”

“You kissed me first!”

You smirked at him. “So… round two when the coast is clear?”

He looked at you — warm, laughing, eyes soft — and grinned.

“Absolutely.”

The house had settled into silence.

No more footsteps. No more knocks. Just the soft hum of wind outside and the way your heartbeat started to slow.

Mikey’s room was dim, only lit by the soft glow of his desk lamp. You lay side by side on his bed now — fully clothed, tangled in each other but with a kind of stillness that wasn’t awkward. It felt earned.

His arm was under your head. Yours was draped across his stomach. You could feel the quiet rhythm of his breathing beneath your fingertips.

Neither of you spoke for a while.

Then:

“You always this chaotic on dates?” he asked softly, turning his head toward you.

You smiled against his hoodie. “I thought this wasn’t a date.”

“Oh, it’s a date now.”

You laughed quietly.

A beat passed.

Mikey’s voice lowered, just above a whisper. “You make it easy.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Being around you. Talking. Laughing. Wanting to kiss you every five seconds…” He gave a faint, slightly self-conscious chuckle. “I didn’t think it’d feel like this.”

You shifted to look at him, your face barely inches from his. “Like what?”

He was quiet for a moment. Then his thumb gently brushed your cheek, slow, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to.

“Like I could actually be happy again.”

Your chest tightened.

The words weren’t flashy. But they were real. Honest in that way Mikey rarely was — the way he only got when everything else went quiet and he stopped pretending to be the indestructible leader.

You touched his jaw, your voice barely above a breath. “I want to be someone you can have that with.”

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. “You already are.”

And then he kissed you again — not rushed or heated like before, but slow. Meaningful.

This kiss didn’t ask for anything.

It just said: I’m here.

You curled closer to him as the night pressed in around you. No more teasing. No more flustered panic or being interrupted.

Just you and Mikey.

Breathing the same air. Holding on.

Saying without words what your hearts had already figured out:

This thing between us? It’s real.

And maybe, just maybe...

It’s only the beginning.

___________________________________________________________________________

The sun crept in slowly, dusting everything in soft light. You didn’t remember falling asleep, not really — just warm limbs tangled under a blanket, your cheek resting on Mikey’s chest, his heartbeat steady beneath you like the lullaby you never knew you needed.

Mikey stirred before you did, eyes barely open, one arm slung around your waist. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Didn’t want the moment to end.

But the door creaked.

And then—

“...Eh?”

Emma stood in the doorway. Hair messy from sleep. Eyes wide. Staring.

She blinked. Looked at you. Looked at Mikey. Looked at your fingers loosely intertwined.

Then, without a word…

She just slowly backed out and shut the door.

“…shit,” Mikey muttered under his breath.

Downstairs, Emma poured tea for her grandfather, pretending nothing was unusual.

“Mhm. They’re cuddling in Mikey’s bed,” she said casually.

He choked on his tea.

___________________________________________________________________________

When you both finally came down — nervous, hair messy, trying to act like the situation wasn’t a deeply embarrassing sitcom — you found Emma and the granpa sitting at the table, both clearly waiting.

Emma was grinning.

He was trying very hard to look neutral.

“Morning,” Mikey muttered.

You bowed politely. “Good morning, I’m really sorry if—if it looked weird, or—uh, I’m [Y/N], Mikey’s… friend.”

Emma’s smile widened.

“Friend?” she echoed.

You shot Mikey a panicked glance.

“Okay, not just a friend,” Mikey admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “We’re kind of… figuring it out.”

Emma leaned forward on her elbows, chin resting in her hands. “I like her.”

You blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah. You’re cute, you didn’t bolt out the window, and Mikey’s, like, weirdly soft around you. That’s enough for me.”

Mikey groaned. “Emmaa…”

Mikey and Emmas Grandpa raised an eyebrow. “So. When’s the wedding?”

You both stared at him.

“What?!” Mikey yelped.

“I’m joking,” he said, sipping his tea, totally deadpan.

Emma beamed. “But not really! You two look so cute together. You did fall asleep all snuggled up. That’s, like, two steps away from a honeymoon.”

“Emma—” you laughed, red-faced. “We’ve only known each other for a couple weeks.”

“Exactly!” she winked. “That’s romantic. You’re on a fast track.”

Mikey groaned into his hands, face bright red.

You were just as bad, hiding your smile behind your cup of tea.

Still, beneath all the teasing and the blushes, something warm settled into your chest.

They weren’t pushing you away.

They welcomed you like you belonged there.

And maybe, just maybe…

You already did.

___________________________________________________________________________

The shrine was glowing under the quiet evening sky — lanterns lit, soft cherry blossoms fluttering in the air, and the usual buzz of bikes, laughter, and the low murmur of Toman’s top ranks gathering for their monthly meeting.

But for you, this place didn’t feel intimidating anymore.

It felt like home.

“Oi, Mikey,” a voice called from below. “You gonna let her freeze to death up there?”

You turned with a grin just as Draken stepped up the stone steps toward you, a lollipop stick lazily hanging from his mouth.

Mikey rolled his eyes and immediately shrugged off his jacket, draping it around your shoulders without a word.

“Happy now?” he muttered.

You tugged the oversized sleeves over your hands and smiled sweetly at Draken. “He’s been trying to pretend I’m not cold for twenty minutes.”

“I know,” Draken snorted. “He does that. Acts like if he’s not cold, no one else can be either.”

Mikey squinted at him. “Betrayal.”

“Oh, please,” Draken waved him off, then nudged you lightly with his elbow. “Still got that chaotic streak in you? Any boba balls in that bag?”

You both laughed.

“Don’t tempt me,” you said, nudging him back. “I could smuggle some. Old habits die hard.”

“She’s family,” Draken said to no one in particular, shaking his head with a grin. “Even when she’s a menace.”

“I’m not a menace—!”

“Remind me who convinced Mitsuya to let you ‘custom-design’ Mikey’s birthday uniform?”

Mikey gave you a slow, amused look. “You did put glitter in the seams.”

“Strategically.”

“There was glitter in my hair for three weeks.”

You shrugged proudly. “You sparkled. Deal with it.”

“God, you’re all insane,” Chifuyu said, joining the group, followed by Smiley, Angry, and a few others — all of whom gave you easy, familiar nods and smiles. You returned each one.

You were Mikey’s girl.

You’d earned your place — through chaos, kindness, loyalty, and the very same fire that first caught Mikey’s heart that winter outside the church.

As the group settled, Draken leaned closer to Mikey with a grin. “Hard to believe you went from starstruck idiot to calling her ‘wifey’ in front of everyone.”

“Shut up,” Mikey mumbled.

“He was speechless when he first saw her, you remember?” Draken looked at you with a teasing smile. “Didn’t even blink. I thought he was broken.”

“I thought he was judging my coat,” you said innocently.

Mikey groaned. “Why are you all like this?”

“Because it’s funny,” Mitsuya said from the side, barely hiding his smirk. “And true.”

You leaned into Mikey’s side, smiling. “You were kind of stunned.”

“I still am,” he muttered, quiet enough only you could hear.

Then — shamelessly — he turned and kissed you, quick but full of warmth, hands on your waist, eyes soft. He did it again. And again. You swatted his arm, cheeks pink.

“Mikey,” you hissed, laughing under your breath, “the meeting—!”

“Sue me,” he said, pulling you close and resting his chin on your head.

“You two gonna make out again or can we start?” Chifuyu asked, raising a brow.

“We could do both,” Mikey replied, completely unbothered.

“Please don’t.”

Everyone laughed.

As the meeting began and Mikey stepped forward — you stayed behind him, arms crossed, jacket warm around your shoulders, eyes locked on him.

Still your Mikey.

Still that boy who looked at you like a miracle.

And now?

You were part of the legend.

Not just beside him — with him.

Always.

___________________________________________________________________________

Snow crunched beneath their boots as they walked hand in hand, fingers laced, the world blanketed in a quiet hush. The town had already begun to sleep, soft lights glowing from windows, wreaths swaying gently in the cold wind.

But the old church — the same one where everything started — still stood proud against the night sky, its bell tower lit like a warm beacon.

Mikey squeezed your hand as the two of you stepped through the front gates. “Still remember the first time you came here?”

You looked up at him, your breath forming little clouds in the air. “I remember stepping over unconscious gang members.”

He laughed, low and soft. “Yeah. Romantic start.”

You smiled. “It was, in its own way. You were there.”

“Was stunned out of my damn mind,” he admitted, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Didn’t even believe you were real.”

You bumped your shoulder into his. “And now you’re stuck with me forever.”

“Married to you forever,” he said proudly. “My girl. My wife. My Sano.”

You grinned, heart warm despite the cold.

The church doors creaked open gently as you stepped inside together. The air smelled of old wood, wax, and pine — peaceful, sacred. At the front, a table had been set with rows of thin white candles, flickering in the dim light. Others had come and gone, leaving prayers behind, but now the space was mostly empty.

You picked out a candle and lit it with practiced hands, Mikey standing just behind you, arms wrapped gently around your waist as you watched the flame come to life.

“This is our thing now,” you whispered. “Every Christmas.”

“Tradition,” Mikey murmured. “Just like kissing you before we leave.”

You laughed, leaning back into him.

You were known here now. Not as the “boba girl,” not just as “Mikey’s wife” — but as Lady Sano. The woman who stood at Mikey’s side not only through battles and chaos, but in peace. The kind heart who remembered everyone’s names, who brought snacks to Toman meets, who never missed a birthday.

You were family to them all.

And to Mikey, you were everything.

“You know,” he said softly, voice brushing against your ear, “I don’t think there’s a version of my life where you’re not the best thing that ever happened to me.”

You turned slightly, enough to look up at him. “You say that every time.”

“Because it’s still true,” he replied. “You changed everything, [Y/N]. You didn’t just save me. You built this life with me.”

His fingers found the band of your ring, tracing it gently, almost like a ritual.

“I’m glad you’re a Sano now,” he whispered. “So damn glad I get to say you’re mine.”

You kissed him, slow and deep, surrounded by candlelight and silence and the warmth of years shared.

Outside, the snow kept falling.

But inside that church — the place where a strange girl once sat beside Draken and rewrote Mikey’s fate with a laugh and a handful of boba — love had come full circle.

Hand in hand, Sano Manjirō and Sano [Y/N] stepped back out into the night, their names whispered with fondness through Tokyo, their legacy written not just in strength, but in love.

[zae-heeyyy]

Assuage

Summary: Arthur helps you relax. Pairing: Arthur Morgan X Female!Reader Word Count: 1,269 Tags: developing relationship, very light angst, fluff, Clemens Point, high honor

an: This was an anon request. Not a lot going on here. Simple and sweet. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy!

Assuage: to lessen the intensity of (something that pains or distresses) 

Sloshing buckets of water weighed a thousand pounds in your clammy grip as scorching heat spread like a brush fire from your stomach. This pain had been gnawing at you for weeks, and no doctor could give you a precise diagnosis or cure. Rest, eat frequently, avoid alcohol.

They didn’t know the lifestyle of a woman in the Van Der Linde Gang.

Obedience had never come easy, so last night, when Arthur offered you a swig of whiskey, his crooked smile crinkling the corners of his eyes, you couldn’t deny him. The golden liquid stung like hellfire going down. Still, a combination of its intoxicating effects and a new closeness to the cowboy soothed the deep-seated ache in your belly. As moonlight glimmered above the lake, you wiggled your toes in the sand and failed to stifle a yawn.

“Don’t let me keep ya’, Miss.”

“It’s no trouble, Arthur.”

When you shivered, part from the lake breeze and part from discomfort, he opened his arm like a drawbridge, inviting you into the safety of his castle. You scooted in, stiff, but when his hand found your stomach, heavy and warm like a compress, the tension drained like water bled from a moat. You didn’t move for the rest of the night, forged against his iron-like muscle.

Now, the next morning, regret was setting in. The whiskey irritated whatever beast had made its home inside of you, its claws burrowing deep. Trying to stay steady on your feet, you squeezed your eyes shut and froze. But the cramps expanded outward, turning all your muscles into stone. Before you could set them down, the buckets slipped from your fingers and crashed to the ground in a piercing clatter.

Catching the edge of a nearby table, you sucked in air through your nose, puffed out through your mouth, and futilely willed yourself invisible. But your prayers fell on deaf ears because, in another second, a pair of familiar hands sank into the padding of your hips. 

“Hey, you alright?”

“M’fine, just spilled some water.”

As you reached for the fallen buckets, the ground came at you fast. Before you ate the dirt, Arthur hauled you backward into his unmoving brick frame.

“Y’shoar as hell don’t look fine.” 

“I am, really.”

You tried to meet his unbelieving gaze earnestly, but the color drained from you as bile burned at the back of your throat. Arthur didn’t wait for another fabricated explanation before he dragged you away to the shade of his tent, grumbling. 

“Can’t be pushing yerself so hard, woman. You crazy?”

His palms clasped firmly onto your shoulders, silently commanding you to stay put as he stepped away. You sank into the fluffy cloud that was his pillow, but it brought you little comfort as you drifted aimlessly through the storm of your pain. 

His voice rumbled from the sky of the phantasmagoria you were lost in, and your mind followed the sound back to the waking world.

“You still alive?” 

You whimpered in acknowledgment, and your eyes fluttered open to find him watching you.

“There she is.” His lips formed into a soft curve as he caressed your forehead with his knuckles. “You jus’ relax. I’m gonna go talk to Dutch and keep Miss Grimshaw off your heels. Don’t go anywhere, now.” 

Your mouth parted as you tried to sit up, but he raised a brow and raised a finger, shushing you. Defeated, you swallowed and sank back down, staring up at the canvas of the tent and folding your hands over the source of your affliction. 

Time dawdled on when you were sitting still. If only some mad scientist could invent a machine that took pictures of your insides, you could finally figure out what was wrong with you and fix it. Having folks, especially Arthur, fuss over you sat almost as heavy as the pain. Yeah, you’d rest, you told yourself—just until Arthur returned. Then you’d get back to it.

And when he ducked back into the tent, you tried to swing your legs over the cot, but he caught your ankle and settled it into his lap as he sank at the foot of the bed. With a sharp glance, he tugged at the shoestring of your boot.

“Spoke to Dutch. You’re on bedrest for the next few days.” 

“But—”

With a swift pull, he removed the boot and dropped it to the ground.

“Don’t wanna hear it.”

A silent joust between your leg and Arthur’s grip ensued, and you lost quickly, pouting in your defeat. 

“Arthur, I can’t just lay here. I have to—”

“Quit yer yappin,’ and let somebody help you for a change.” 

Your other boot hit the ground, and he tucked your feet back together with assertive force, glaring at you. 

“Whatever happened to a woman listening to her man?”

Your heart burst against your ribs, and oxygen fled from your brain, leaving you dizzy and wordless.

“Mmm,” he hummed in amusement. “That finally shut you up? Thought I was gonna have t’climb up there.”

When you still didn’t say anything, only gawked at him, his hand shot to the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“M’sorry, I just thought that we—the past few weeks—I should’ve—”

Even though the contraction of your muscles made the sore spot in your abdomen ache evermore, you managed to choke out a laugh.   “You’re a fool, Arthur Morgan, a sweet, sweet fool.”

As his smile returned, his shoulders relaxed, and he rolled his eyes playfully.

“I can get behind the fool part, but I don’t know too much about bein’ sweet.”

You wanted to laugh again, but your amusement was short-lived. You hugged your arms around your midsection, frown etched deep.

“You gone to a doctor ’bout that, yet?”

Arthur had noticed, after all, despite your best efforts to hide it from him, and you hated it— hated being another burden for him to carry on his shoulders with the rest of the world. And like he was reading your mind, he rubbed your leg reassuringly. 

“You ain’t easy t’ignore. Not t’me.”

“Guess I ain’t doing a good job of hiding it.”

He shook his head and put his hand over yours on your belly.

“Don’t gotta hide anything from me, darlin. Ain’t got much, and I ain’t no doctor, but whatever you need, jus’ say the word.”

But that was just the thing—you didn’t want to say it—that you wanted to take him up on his offer to climb in bed with you.  But the fear of missing the opportunity overpowered your fear of rejection. 

“Stay, please? Just for a little while.”

Your heart plummeted when his hand left yours, but you watched as he took off his boots and joined you in the cot. He spooned you, both of you turning on your side, him rubbing soothing circles on your center.

“That help?” 

Truthfully, it didn’t make the hurt go away, but you nodded anyway because another feeling, solace, was slowly forming beside it. You shifted to face him, using your arm to support your head.

“What?” 

“Your woman,” you smiled, and he brushed your hair out of your face.

“If that’s alright wi’you, miss.”

Your eyes trailed down to his lips, and you closed the gap between you. He cupped your cheek as your lips moved in sync with each other. Sharp pain nagged at your insides, but his presence alone brought a semblance of peace to your tumultuous mind. You supposed you could spend the rest of the day like this, wrapped up in the cowboy. Dutch’s orders didn’t sound so terrible, after all.

[millieisawriter]

The spell (Javier's version)

first ending - javier escuella x reader

summary: the one where javier comes to terms with the fact he caught feelings for you, and the two of you learnt to love each other despite your differences.

first part

wc: 2.6k

all pics taken from pinterest

♡the people have asked for a second part♡

a/n: i don't usually tag people on my fics, but this time i did tag everyone who commented under the first part <3 ily

It had been a few weeks since that night in Javier’s tent. You hadn’t spoken to anyone about it, not even to the girl who became a friend to you – Mary-Beth. Despite that, the whole gang must have known about what had happened between you and Javier.

Why? Well, it was difficult not to notice the sudden shift in your interactions with Javier, or the lack of these. Normally, there wasn’t a day the two of you didn’t exchange a few angry sentences. Ever since the tent incident, however, you didn’t acknowledge one another’s existence.

“You’ve got to tell me what happened!” Mary-Beth insisted.

You rolled your eyes. There was nothing to talk about, not even to your best friend. What Javier had done felt embarrassing enough, you didn’t need anyone else knowing about it.

You had just sat down to fix your pendulum when the girl approached you. The chain, to which a crystal had been attached, worn from years of usage from even before you had acquired it, finally gave out and broke a few days ago. “There’s nothing to tell,” you stated.

“Don’t lie to your best friend,” she insisted, and you know she wasn’t going to let go of the topic when she sat down on the chair next to you. “Your… necklace broke?”

“It’s called a pendulum,” you explained, still focused on fixing the chain, “I use it for simple yes or no questions. But, yes, the chain broke a few days ago.”

“So, back to the previous thing,” Mary-Beth returned to the topic of Javier, “what happened? First you two couldn’t go five minutes without snapping at each other. Now? Not even a glance. You could at least tell me if you hexed him or something.”

You finally look at your friend, leaving the pendulum on the table. “If I had hexed him, he deserved it,” you scoffed.

The girl’s eyes widened. “Did you?”

“No, Mary-Beth. I didn’t hex him. But if I had, it would have been well-deserved is what I meant.”

“Then what? Whenever he’s not out on a job, he strolls around the camp all depressed like those funny english dogs.”

“The bulldogs?”

“Exactly!”

You laughed at the comparison. Mary-Beth wasn’t wrong, though, you noticed the change in Javier’s behavior as well. He became less visible around the camp, unless he was playing his guitar. And even then, as much as you didn’t know spanish, you could tell the songs he sang were rather sad.

However, Mary-Beth wasn’t going to let go easily. “Why are you keeping secrets from your best friend?”

“Fine,” you sighed, knowing there’s no backing away from this, “something might have happened between us.”

“Something? Like what? That’s a very vague answer.”

The embarrassment physically hurt you when you thought about that specific night. “You remember the night a few weeks ago? Dutch’s gramophone played, everyone was drunk, all that…” you paused, fiddling with your fingers underneath the table, “we may have ended up in Javier’s tent.”

Her jaw dropped, and she immediately slapped your arm. “No! You’re kidding! You and Javier? I knew something was going on! Oh my God. Was it good? It was good, wasn’t it?”

“That’s not the point!”

“What is the point then?”

The point was that what happened the following morning, hurt you. Even if you never showed it, it pained you to know Javier considered his desire towards you a sin heavier than the blood that stained his hands. And just like the blood, though washed off, left a scar on his conscience, the same way his prayer didn’t make his feelings disappear.

“Next morning I woke up to Javier praying. For forgiveness. For… me,” maybe for the first time you let the hurt show through your voice as you made the confession to your friend.

Mary-Beth couldn’t believe that. She heard Javier bickering with Swanson here and there, but she never took the Mexican for someone religious to that degree. “He didn’t!”

“He did,” you sighed, “I felt like… like I wasn’t even a person to him. Just… something dirty he had to wash away. But, of course, God doesn’t care about him being a damn criminal.”

“How could he do that to you? Have you talked to him since?”

“No. I figured everything between us is done. Anything that could ever be.”

Javier made it clear enough. To him, you were a mistake. A moment of weakness at most, and you didn’t hope for more. Getting over him would be preferred, but you couldn’t help that he happened to dig a hole in your heart.

And you were left wondering – was God going to forgive Javier for how he had treated you? Or was God okay with one of his sheep taking advantage of another human being like that? God didn’t seem to care about that, so maybe you really were the Devil, after all.

Your emotions clearly affected Mary-Beth. “You can’t let him get away with that,” she stated.

“You’re a romantic, I get it,” you replied with a tone sharper than you intended, “but he and I were never meant to be. We’re too different.”

“You don’t believe that. If you did, you wouldn’t be so heartbroken right now.”

“It doesn’t matter what I feel. He made his choice, and I’m not going to beg him to change his mind.”

Last thing you ever imagined to do was begging a man to love you. Not even last, you’d die before you do such thing.

Suddenly, both you and Mary-Beth shifted your gaze to a figure riding into the camp. It was Javier, returning from whatever business he was attending to. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had been on a visit to the nearby town’s brothel.

Your eyes held a slightly longing look as you watched the man dismount from Boaz, a look that stopped only after Mary-Beth had nudged your arm. “Completely not heartbroken, huh?” she teased.

You looked away, and tried to argue, but before you could come up with a good response, you heard the leaves on the ground being rustled by approaching footsteps.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Mary-Beth, with a knowing smirk on her lips, stood up.

“Don’t you dare,” the sentence came out like a threat from your mouth. You attempted to grab her arm, even yank the girl back onto her seat if you had to, but her slim arm easily slipped out of your hand.

A moment later, Javier stood in front of you. “I wanted to talk.”

“We don’t have anything to talk about,” you insisted, standing up so that you were on at least similar level.

“We do.”

“What, you wanna talk about how I ruined your soul?”

Javier flinched slightly at your hiss, but then looked back at you. “I’ve got something for you,” his hand went into the pocket of his jeans.

You wondered what it could be. If you had been accused of being a vampire, he could’ve brought you garlic, or a wooden spike. But how could one kill a witch in a way other than burning her at a stake? He wouldn’t even need a stake for that, you had burnt long ago from the embarrassment.

The thing you could have never expected was now dangling from Javier’s hand as he extended it towards you. “I noticed the one you used to use broke some time ago,” he said.

Your mouth fell open, but no words were conjured. Javier getting a new pendulum for you was not something even your cards could predict.

You stared at the pendulum, the delicate chain shimmering faintly in the sunlight. A teardrop-shaped crystal hung from the chain, catching the light and scattering fractured rays across your skin as you took it in your hand. It was beautiful, far more elegant than the one you had broken.

“Where did you get this?” you asked, an idea in your mind. “Did you steal it?”

Javier shifted in spot. “I saw this woman, she travels in a wagon similar to yours. Madam Nazar, or whatever she introduced herself as. I wouldn’t dare steal from her, she’s a bit scary,” he chuckled lightly. “Don’t ask me where I got the money, though.”

Your eyes finally met his when you finished checking out the crystal. “Why did you get this for me?”

“Because I was wrong—”

“You were more than wrong, Javier.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I shouldn’t have made you feel the way I did. I thought… pushing you away would make it easier. That I could forget how you made me feel, or that I’d stop wanting you if I could convince myself it was wrong.”

“And?”

“And I couldn’t.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you eyed the pendulum again. It wasn’t hard to recognize the crystal as clear quartz. Possibly the best one for a pendulum, clear quartz was known for providing clarity and amplifying energy.

“I’m sorry,” Javier continued, “I can’t change what I did, but I can tell you I never meant to hurt you. You’re… you’re everything I can’t stop thinking about, and I hate that I let my fear ruin what we could have had.”

The words cut through your ears. You closed your palm around the crystal and looked at Javier again. For the first time he finally looked vulnerable. As if the regret he seemed to feel was honest. For the first time, he didn’t build up any walls between the two of you.

“You can’t just walk back in here with a gift and expect me to forget how you made me feel.”

“I don’t expect you to forget,” he said. “But I hope you can forgive me. There’s something between us, and maybe it’s not a spell you casted on me.”

“I’m glad you finally see that.”

Javier sighed. “Let me prove to you that I’m serious. About you, about us, about your… magic, too. And that I don’t think you’re sinful.”

You had no idea what got into Javier, and it certainly wasn’t your doing, but he had changed. In the following weeks, he grew more interested in your beliefs, in your practices. Often he sat and listened intently as you explained tarot to him, or when you taught him about the pendulum.

One night, sitting by the fire next to Javier, you shuffled your cards. “Pick a card, Javier,” you said, spreading the deck on the cow skin rug.

The man’s eyes brushed over the cards as he hesitated. The deck was, obviously, facing the side with pictures down, so that he had to use his intuition. He had almost taken one card, when you smacked his hand away.

You lectured him. “Just point at it, don’t actually grab it!”

“Why not?” he asked, both amused and confused.

“Only I can touch my cards, it’s one of the rules.”

“What happens if I touch them?”

He was curious, which was good. Curious was way better than hateful, scared, or ashamed. The way Javier evolved, and warmed up to your witchy practices made you happy. You could now see that maybe there was a chance for your relationship to grow.

“Nothing, but that’s the rule. You love breaking rules, don’t you?”

He was persistent. “Would I die a painful death?”

Once again he attempted to touch the cards. Once again, you slapped his hand away.

“Stop acting like a child,” you were ready to collect your cards and put them back in the safety of your bag, “you changed, and I like it, but I don’t wanna have to cleanse my cards again, I’m almost out of white sage.”

“I’ll buy you some more, what’s the issue? How expensive can it be?”

“You’d have to go all the way to California, and have something to give in exchange to the Indians there. They don’t need money.”

“You’re more complicated than I thought,” he sighed, but it was playful this time.

“So don’t touch the cards! Tell me which one you choose.”

Javier’s gaze returned to the deck spread in front of him. He thought for a moment before pointing to one card, even though on the backside all of them looked identical.

“Great, let’s see,” you mused, taking the card and studying it before turning it to Javier. “Death.”

He scoffed. “That’s optimistic.”

“Don’t take the meaning literally. This card represents change.”

Javier tilted his head. “I think I know what’s changing.”

“Oh?”

“Me.”

He reached out, his hand gently brushing your face. His gaze traveled down from your eyes to your lips, and you knew what it meant. No sooner, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss so gentle as if he were scared to hurt you.

You let him guide you through the kiss as it became more. More in both, the touchable and spiritual meaning. Your hands found their way to his jaw and neck, meanwhile he grabbed onto your hips. This allowed him to confidently move you from where you were sitting next to him, to make you straddle his lap. Almost instinctively, you grind your hips against his, sending a clear message to the neurons in his brain.

Javier groaned into the kiss, and you could feel his grip tighten on both sides of your body. This time, you could tell, it wasn’t solely desire between you. And neither one of you was on alcohol. This time it was real, a real raw emotion, and the peak of everything between you. Your connection, your need for each other, your past tensions, and your current longing. All of these exploded between the two of you in that exact moment.

The moment was interrupted, of course. “I’m glad to see y’all making up,” Arthur cleared his throat, “but could y’all not fuck on display for the whole gang to see?”

You practically leaped off Javier’s lap, your face burning hotter than the campfire. “Arthur!” you hissed.

Javier, however, didn’t seem nearly as bothered. He smirked up at Arthur with the kind of cocky confidence that made you want to smack him. And kiss him again.

“Jealousy isn’t pretty on you,” Javier joked.

“Don’t have to be pretty,” Arthur shot back, “just don’t wanna see y’all exchanging spit like two horny teenagers.”

You knew Arthur was just joking, there was no real bite in his voice. He was secretly glad to see the two of you getting along. But that also doesn’t mean that being called out like that didn’t get you all shy and blushing.

You stood up. “Javier, let’s take this to my wagon.”

“Our wagon you mean,” he said, following you.

“Yes, our wagon,” you rolled your eyes.

Truth be told, the wagon had undergone a transformation since Javier started spending more time with you. More time, as in he was practically living there with you. As you walked in, on your left Javier’s rosary was hung on the wall. The beads were darkened with use, and the small brass crucifix blended nicely with a bundle of sage and sweetgrass that hung next to it.

The shelves along the wagon’s interior were equally divided. On one side, you organized your herbs, dried plants, and jars filled with ingredients only you could name. On the other side, Javier had placed the wooden icon of the Virgin Mary, her peaceful gaze watching over everything, just like she had watched you that one night which changed everything. Except, this time you didn’t feel judged.

You smiled to yourself. The clash between the sacred and the mystical was oddly fitting.

___________________________

people that seemed interested in a second part:

@zenyattaiscute @warmsideofthepillow03 @sockisanidot @esquilone @yolky555 @veronika272

[dee-writes-anime]

I saw you write smut👀👀👀

And write for sukuna

Hehheheh

I don’t have it exactly planned out but can I request some smutty sukuna 👀👀

Freestyle this as you please

But can there be some creampie if ur not too uncomfortable about writing it?

His to Fill, His to Keep

FEATURING Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

SUMMARY you tried everything — soft looks, silk robes, near-nudity and jasmine oil — and he still wouldn’t touch you. so you snapped. cried in public. threatened a servant. and now Sukuna is rearranging your guts like it's a religious experience.

CONTENT WARNINGS Sukuna is the problem, it's smut gang, dom!sukuna, creampie central, possessive energy through the roof, minor public breakdown (you), emotionally repressed warlord (him), size kink, worship kink but in a fucked up way, minor pregnancy magic??

AUTHORS NOTE now, I'm not one to toot my own horn... but this is lowkey a banger, Monty.

It started subtly. You were patient, at first.

A glance too long. Fingers trailing too close when pouring his sake. Bowing lower than necessary, just enough for the neckline of your robes to fall open — not lewd, but suggestive, tempting in a way that no other concubine could mimic. You bathed in jasmine oil at night, combed your hair until it shone like river silk. Everything about you became deliberate.

But he never touched you.

You watched his hands on others. Heard the sounds behind his chamber doors — moans like prayer, cries muffled behind thick curtains — and returned to your room every night untouched, unclaimed, unchosen.

A shadow, wrapped in silk.

Then you stopped being subtle.

You began leaving your outer robes “accidentally” behind. Lingered in his doorway after delivering ceremonial offerings. Sat beside him during court, legs brushing, perfume thick in the air between you. Once, in full view of his generals, you knelt beside his seat and reached to adjust the hem of his robe, your fingers grazing the inside of his knee.

You felt his eyes burn into the top of your head.

But he said nothing.

Did nothing.

Uraume began to look at you with something between sympathy and disbelief. Servants whispered behind doors. The other women in his harem cast you glances that ranged from pity to derision — the untouched one, the soft one, the failure.

It grew unbearable.

And then, one morning, it all fell apart.

The sun had just crested the estate walls, bleeding gold across the stone tiles. You stood in the central courtyard, surrounded by the lower concubines preparing for the day’s purification ritual — an honor you had once led. Now they barely looked at you.

A young servant approached with a folded robe in her hands. She bowed, eyes down.

“Lady, I’ve been instructed to assist you—”

You cut her off. “I don’t need help.”

She looked startled. “I was told to—”

“Do I look like I can’t dress myself?” Your voice was louder than you intended. Several heads turned.

The girl hesitated. “It’s only… they said you seemed unwell—”

You saw red.

“Unwell?” you snapped, stepping forward. The robe fell from her hands, pooling on the floor like spilled milk. “Because I haven’t been touched? Because I haven’t been fucked like the rest of you?”

Gasps. A few shrieks of laughter quickly smothered. Uraume, halfway across the courtyard, stilled.

You bent down slowly, picked up the robe, your fingers trembling.

“I am not broken,” you hissed, but the tears welled anyway. Hot. Humiliating. “I was chosen, and I am no less now than I was then. I am not weak.”

Silence.

And then — you felt him.

Sukuna’s cursed energy swept across the courtyard like a wave, unseen but unmistakable. Your breath caught as his presence darkened the air, heavy as a thunderhead. You turned toward the palace steps.

He stood there. Watching.

Expression unreadable. Hands at his sides.

You froze — tear-streaked, still gripping the robe like a lifeline.

He said nothing.

And then he turned and walked away.

That night, you didn’t sleep. Couldn’t.

The embarrassment burned behind your ribs like acid. You kept replaying it — the way they stared, the way he stared. And still, he did nothing.

You found yourself wandering the halls like a ghost until your feet carried you to the chamber door. His chamber. You didn’t knock. You didn’t breathe.

You just opened it and stepped inside.

He looked up from his writing desk — black ink, red lacquer, golden talismans spread across the wood. His expression didn’t change. But something in the air shifted.

“You’re late,” he said.

That broke you.

“Don’t you dare speak to me like nothing happened.” Your voice cracked like brittle porcelain. “I humiliated myself. In front of everyone.”

He stood slowly. “You said what you felt.”

“And you still walked away.”

A beat. His eyes narrowed slightly.

“Because if I’d touched you then, I would’ve ruined you.”

You stepped closer, rage and heartbreak tangled in your chest. “Then do it now. Ruin me. At least it would mean something.”

He was in front of you in an instant — one hand cupping the side of your throat, not tight, but firm. “You think I haven’t wanted to?” His voice dropped, molten. “I’ve imagined a hundred ways to break you open. But I held back. Because I didn’t want to destroy the only soft thing I had left.”

Your breath hitched.

And then you kissed him — not sweet, not pretty, just desperate.

He caught you mid-step, slammed the door shut with his cursed energy, the noise thundering through the room.

You didn’t expect the door to slam behind you.

You barely had time to inhale before Sukuna was on you — one massive hand in your hair, the other gripping your throat with enough pressure to claim, not hurt. Your back hit the wall hard. His mouth crashed against yours, all teeth and heat, devouring the protests you didn’t have time to make.

He kissed like he hated himself for waiting this long.

You whimpered into his mouth. He growled into yours.

“You want to be ruined?” he rasped, voice like iron dragged through fire. “Then fucking take it.”

You gasped as he spun you, pushing your chest against the cold wall. His hand fisted in your robe, tearing the silk with a snarl. The sound of seams splitting filled the air — fabric falling in fluttering waves to the floor, leaving you bare, shaking, soaked.

“Look at you,” he hissed, dragging one clawed hand down your spine. “Dripping for me and I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

You trembled.

He yanked you back by the hips, forcing you to arch, to open. You could feel his cock hard and hot against your thigh — thick, heavy, inhuman.

“Beg for it.”

You turned your head, panting. “Please.”

“Not good enough.” He slapped the inside of your thigh. You gasped, knees threatening to buckle.

“Please, Sukuna — please, I need you. I can’t— I can’t take it anymore, I want to feel you inside, I want you to use me, claim me,—”

That did it.

He growled, deep and low, and knelt behind you without another word. His tongue was on you before you could catch your breath — hot and ruthless, dragging through your folds like he was starving. You cried out, hands braced against the wall as he sucked, licked, devoured.

“This is mine now,” he muttered into your cunt, voice soaked in reverence and filth. “Every time you ache, you’ll remember it was me who made you feel this way.”

Your legs buckled. He caught you easily, lifted you like you weighed nothing. Tossed you back onto his futon in a blur of movement.

You barely landed before he was on top of you, looming, pupils blown wide, chest heaving.

He looked feral. Beautiful.

You reached up to touch him — just barely brushed your fingers over his jaw — and he gripped your wrist, slammed it back into the mattress above your head.

“You don’t get to touch,” he said. “You just lie there and take it like the good little thing you are.”

And then he pushed in.

You cried out.

Too much. Too big. You felt every inch — felt him stretch you open in a way that bordered on unbearable. He didn’t stop. He buried himself to the hilt in one brutal stroke and stayed there, grinding his hips against yours while you gasped beneath him.

“There it is,” he whispered, voice shaking. “So fucking tight. Your body’s clinging to me like it knows who I am.”

You couldn’t speak.

He pulled back slow — so slow it made you sob — and then slammed forward again, setting a brutal rhythm. The sounds were obscene — skin on skin, wet and raw, your cries bouncing off the chamber walls like prayer.

“Say it,” he growled. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours—” you sobbed. “I’m yours, I’m—”

He bent forward, bit down on your shoulder. “Louder.”

“I’m yours!”

His thrusts got harder. Faster. He dragged your legs up over his shoulders, bending you in half, pounding so deep it felt like he was fucking into your soul.

And then — suddenly — he stilled.

Buried fully inside you, trembling.

You felt it when he came — a violent rush, the first pulse of hot, thick release gushing deep inside. Your body clenched around it, helpless, your back arching as his voice broke on a growl above you.

He didn’t pull out.

Didn’t even move.

Just stayed inside, chest heaving, hands locked on your hips as his come flooded your womb in wave after wave, endless, claiming.

You were too dazed to speak.

Then you felt it — low in your gut, a pulse. A flicker of cursed energy binding to something deep in your core.

You whimpered.

Sukuna’s hands slid over your stomach.

He leaned down, mouth to your ear.

“Keep it,” he whispered. “Let it grow.”

The warmth hadn’t faded.

Hours had passed, maybe more. The rain outside had stopped. The brazier had gone cold. But your body still burned — low in your belly, deep in your bones. A heat that wasn’t entirely physical. It radiated outward in soft pulses, like your blood was singing, your womb a drum echoing with something older than flesh.

You shifted on the futon, and the movement made you wince — not from pain, but from how full you still felt. The inside of your thighs were sticky, raw, and you could still feel the slow trickle between your legs where his release had settled deep and stayed there, refusing to leave.

You reached to touch your lower abdomen, hand splaying across the skin.

It pulsed. Just once. Like something answered.

You went still.

The cursed energy in the room had changed — not dangerous, not sharp. But heavy. Ancient. It clung to the walls. To you.

And Sukuna hadn’t moved.

He was still half-propped on one elbow beside you, eyes tracking every breath you took. Not tired. Not satisfied. Watching.

Waiting.

Your throat was dry. “There’s something wrong.”

He didn’t blink. “No.”

You frowned, shifting to sit up. “Then what is this?”

His gaze dipped to your stomach — still bare, still flushed. His fingers trailed over it lightly, then pressed.

That same internal pulse answered again. You gasped — not in pain, but surprise. Like something inside you had… awoken.

“You feel it too,” you whispered.

Sukuna said nothing.

But his jaw flexed. His hand didn’t leave your skin.

“What did you do to me?” you asked, voice shaking.

He exhaled — slow and deep, as if trying to leash something within himself. “My energy is potent. When I… finish inside something I want to keep—” he paused, “it doesn’t leave quietly.”

You stared at him.

He leaned closer, brushing your hair from your face, his voice lower now. “Your body is holding onto it. Accepting it.”

A beat.

“That shouldn’t be possible.” Your stomach turned. “Are you saying I—”

“No,” he cut you off. “Not yet.”

“But maybe?”

His fingers dug slightly into your side.

He didn’t confirm. He didn’t need to.

Your heart stuttered. “Sukuna—”

He kissed you before you could say more. Not tender — but certain. Final. When he pulled back, he spoke quietly:

“If you are, it will not be a weakness.” A pause. His eyes gleamed. “It will be proof.”

You swallowed hard.

“Of what?”

He smiled. Slow. Dark. Reverent.

“That you're mine in every possible way.”

[nylaboon]

Can I request Karma x reader x Asano poly relationship headcanons?

Deal With the Devil — Karma Akabane & Gakushuu Asano

— headcanons: poly relationship with karma and asano

tags: not proof-read

note: I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME FOREVER, i got overwhelmed with the amount of requests i received and completely forgot about this, hopefully this is alright <33

dating both boys at the same time is like watching a car blow up from a not so far distance

dangerous

interesting

but dangerous

if you so much as give one more attention than the other, he'll get upset with you

karma would just be like "i don't care because i'm so nonchalant and cool" or whatever

but when he's alone it's the only thing he'll think about until he gets his lick back on asano

poor guy has a fragile ego awww at least he's hot though

asano would just be a fucking bitch about it

if you can't tell, i'm not too much of a fan of him — he's alright i guess

asano would make his jealousy known

not to you (or not intentionally)

he'll try to keep his cool for the most part, but he really can't help it

but he will glare at karma until you pour some of your attention into him as well

dating you is like a competition

whoever got the most attention was titled the better boyfriend (you never knew about this until you caught them fighting about the idea)

it's a surprise they even agreed to something like this

but how could they say no to you?

if one gets you a gift, the other tries to get you a better one to top it

if you get annoyed of their constant—and i mean CONSTANT—arguing, they'll try to shut up for once

the silence doesn't last long, but at least they were considerate enough to try, right?

they really do love you equally as much as the other

even if one says they love you more

they only say that because they're both egotistical attention whores

equally the same amount

asano will try to take you on nice fancy dates since he and karma can literally NEVER agree on what to do for date nights

meanwhile karma takes you to, like, the most dangerous side of town and says something like "the rush of running away from crackheads and gang members is what makes it fun and memorable" or some shit

all that money he got and he will rarely take you somewhere nice smh </3

heavy on the "rarely"

he'll take you somewhere nice if he feels like not being an asshole or if you had a bad week or something like that

i'm sorry, i just can't see them getting along at ALL LOL

like, asano is asleep and karma insults him while he's unconscious, they will be arguing nonstop

not in front of you, of course, but you'll catch them a lot of the time

i can see karma roughhousing asano (without his consent) and you're just trying to stop them before it escalates

not that asano would beat his ass, but because you know damn well that karma won't hesitate to beat his

there will be a lot of near-death experiences

for asano and only asano

karma cannot be contained

you'll need a prayer if you're dating these two

written by @nylaboon

[justcruisingaroundrevived]

Can I get a yandere epilogue Pete with a reader who’s an actress at Sick Mofo? It’s been years since Pete has stalked reader. And now reader is desperate to look for a job so they ended up working at Sick Mofo as one of the girls there. And surprise surprise, they met their stalker back in high school (Pete)

You Don’t Have to Put on The Red Light; Those Days are Over

Summary: Yandere! Epilogue! Pete x Sick Mofo actresses! Reader

TW/CW: Yandere tendencies, Obsessive behavior, blood, abuse, implied dub-con (not reader) stalking, kidnapping

A/N: ANON! ANON PLEASE DON’T DO THIS TO YOURSELF! ANON! ANON!

Reblogs are appreciated!

- As mentioned before, Pete was PISSED when you managed to escape his grasps

- All those years of stalking and “loving you” (harassment) went out of the window when you moved away!

- His dingy apartment definitely has a few hole in the walls for those extra angry times

- He keeps looking at scar of the time he carved your name onto his side. It stings like a fresh scab

- Tries finding you on social media, but you probably don’t have once since you rather die than let Pete find out where you are

- So, he resorts to cyber stalking your family. Maybe that blurry, pixelated picture could be you (if he uses enough of his imagination)

- Will print out said pictures and put them on a punching bag, beating them up till his hands are sore and knuckles bleeding

- At least with Sick Mofo, he could find lookalikes and fuck them from behind, pretending he’s “punishing” you

- This often leads to said actresses being left with nasty bruises, bloody nose, and them screaming into the night

- However, knowing the industry, it gets swept under the rug, allowing Pete to do it again. And again. And again.

- As for you, probably desperate. Not making rent on time for the past couple of months, having to constantly decide between food in your stomach or keeping the lights, probably been wearing the same jacket for…5 years now?

- However, you have been complimented on your looks before, and this Butchie guy seems to be willing to pay you a hefty sum…

- So that’s how you ended up at Sick Mofo productions, getting your makeup done for the next installment of “Bitch Pit”

- Pete first saw you when filming the “ultimate gang bang”. He could feel time slowing down as he watches your body fold and curve in ways he never thought possible

- Watching your face contour into an O and trying to fake it as much as possible…it’s like the gods answer his prayers

- Even with another staff member tries to snap him out of it, it’s no use. You were finally back at his grasp

- You didn’t notice Pete until after the filming, and both of your eyes made contact with each other

- …FUCK

- You thought about quitting on the spot. Just run through the front doors, never to be seen again. Unfortunately, that money was good and you needed the rent to be paid, less you end up sleeping in your car (again)

- Since this is a company, Pete and you would be separated for a good portion of the day (especially considering he’s just a cleaner, and you’re the “star” of the show)

- That doesn’t mean he won’t steal you to the dressing room. In fact, that’s why he does in a daily basis

- He keeps trying to talk about him, you, “about us”! Tries to count the “fun times we had as a couple” and tries to convince you to “crash at his place for a bit!”

- You, of course, refuse each and every single offer and try to run back to your dressing room before anyone notices

- He’s constantly leaving you “gifts”, except since he now has adult money, they range from perverted magazines of women that look just like you, to even snuff films (along with what he gave you as a teen)

- Pray to god he doesn’t find out where you live, because if he does, then that means him constantly becoming a nuisance

- He creeps out the neighbors with how persistent he can be, and isn’t even afraid of breaking and entering when you’re not home

- Probably even stole a couple of items for “personal use”

- After rejecting him a couple of times (or when he feels like it)…yeah, he’s straight up kidnapping you

- Probably coaxes you to “spending the night with him”, and either spikes your drinks or straight up forces you into his van

- Will keep you in his apartment “For as long as you need”. Still takes you to work so no one gets suspicious, but in this industry? You’re replaceable

- You’re going to be his, one way or another

[takusan-no-ai]

He’s My Golden Retriever

PAIRING: Piper x Male Reader (Romantic) (Fluff)

SUMMARY: Piper and her husband couldn’t be any more opposite to each other.

Some people don’t believe it when they’ve gone through the introductions. No matter how clear as day it is, somehow you’re Piper’s husband. The thing that makes it hard to believe is how you’re her polar opposite; even Pulchra thought the Sons of Calydon were pulling her tail till she learned that, nope, you’re just her energetic bright-as-sunshine husband.

Your hyperactive personality meshed quite nicely with the rest of the gang, and your presence was enough to keep everyone in high spirits. So much so that you earned the name “Yellow Retriever”. Yet despite meshing better with others like Caesar or Burnice, you clung to Piper. And ever since you’ve been her shadow: always happy to see her, following her everywhere, and being sad when she was gone for long periods of time. Everyone was shipping you two long before you got married.

When you elevated from boyfriend to hubby status Piper got to experience your love at full throttle, no hesitation whatsoever. Now you had every excuse imaginable to cling to your wife. “What if you forget how I look?” “It’s my love language!” And so on. But she was never going to deny you to being with. You were affectionate, gentle, loyal, supportive. And above all else adorable. How could Piper turn you away?

Before all that you were just a random guy traversing through the Outer Ring, helping others all around. You were essentially a community service mercenary-for-hire. And when the Sons of Calydon found you trapped in a hollow they essentially adopted you; not out of choice, you followed them to Blazewood, wanting to thank them! Thats how you met Piper, and that inevitably led to you meeting Phaethon. However, Phaethon wasn’t aware of your marital status until recently.

One fast knock.

Two fast knocks.

Many more knocks followed as Belle rubbed her eyes, opening the door to Random Play. “Sorry, we’re not open yet—” she stopped mid sentence, a bright pair of eyes staring right at her. Twinkling. A big bright smile. Gleaming. And an adorable laugh.

Cuteness aggression.

“(Y/N)! What are you doing here so early? Did something bad happen at Blazewood?” Belle ushered him inside, a worrisome look on her face as she grabbed her phone. Presumably to call Wise.

(Y/N) didn’t immediately respond which confused her even more. “Well?”

“Belle. It’s the afternoon and your sign says ‘open’. Did you sleep in? Rest is important but too much can be harmful. Want me to get you some coffee?” He fretted over her like a parent would a child. All while Belle’s sleep deprived eyes finally adjusted to the world around her.

Belle rubbed her head sheepishly as she looked down, blushing slightly. Random Play’s door chimed as Wise walked in with a new box of movies in his hand. “Oh. Finally awake sleepyhead? Thought it’d take an earthquake to wake you up.” He teased his little sister. She forced a smile, clenching her fists. She’d get him back for that.

“Anyways. What are you doing here, (Y/N)?” Belle resumed her questioning. The young man looked at the siblings with stars in his eyes.

“Cheesetopia’s having a limited time event! If you can finish an omelette dish in under an hour you get a trucker hat titled ‘I’m Eggcellent’!” If he had a tail it would be wagging impossibly fast. “The Eggscellent dish is made up of 24 eggs with mushrooms and peppers, before being topped on with 8 cups of chili, 4 cups of American cheese, 4 biscuits on the side and a 10-pound bowl of fruit consisting of cantaloupe, watermelon and honey dew!”

Belle and Wise were frozen in place, everything (Y/N) said going in one ear and out the other. It was all too much information all at once.

“I just need two other people with me to qualify!” He gazed at them with pleading eyes, his hands clasped together in a prayer.

“No.”

“Please!”

“Why not someone from the Sons of Calydon?” Wise asked. (Y/N) twiddled with his fingers, kicking the ground softly.

“It’s a secret ♡.”

Wise sighed before looking at Belle, who only shrugged in response.

“Fine. We’ll help. But you’re paying.” (Y/N) jumped up and down excitedly, hugging the siblings so tight he might squeeze all the air out of their lungs.

“Thank You!”

…

“Ughhh.” Belle groaned. Wise was almost passed out. Meanwhile (Y/N) was grinning from ear to ear, happy at his friend’s accomplishment. They finished the entire meal with some time to spare.

“I’m so proud of you guys! Thanks soooo much for the help. I couldn’t have done it without you! I love you guys!” (Y/N) was eagerly holding the both of them, patting the way too full proxies on their heads.

After being presented with their three eggcellent hats, Piper walked into Cheesetopia, eyebrows raised as she watched her husband, feeling befuddled. “Don’t tell me you did it.” She asked.

(Y/N) hopped up out of his seat, hugging Piper tightly. He buried his face in her hair, practically engulfing her whole. Wise and Belle watched in confusion. Yeah, the guy was affectionate. But he never hugged either of them like…that.

And then he kissed her. On the lips. Multiple times. And kept mumbling about how much he loved her. That was when it clicked.

“Wait…ugh…are you too…a thing?” Belle asked, still hunched over in slight pain.

“Oh, you didn’t know proxies? We’re married.” Piper answered nonchalantly. Their jaws dropped.

(Y/N) finally let her go, presenting the trucker hat to his wife.

“I got a gift for you! The proxies helped me.” He eagerly awaited his praise as he placed the hat on her head. Piper smiled, sighing slightly.

“Thanks. I love it. But seriously, next time don’t sacrifice your appetites for lil old me.” She said with a blush.

At the same time, Belle pinched Wise on his side, causing him to grimace. The pain of an overly full stomach and now aching side making him spiral.

“Why?”

“I told you…I’d…get you back.”

…

“When?”

- Fin

[ruins-of-tragedy]

RWBY's volume nine and how it broke and healed my heart. Took me too many days to get over the last season. This one was somehow better and worse at the same time.

- I remember Ospin mentioned a story. The Girl Who Fell Through The World. Was that foreshadowing? The teaser does act like it.

- The levels of absurdity this season's trailer started off with. Only to end on such ominous notes. Not out of the woods yet. Apparently going into them to get to THE TREE. Fuck.

- Who is the new narrator?

- The flashbacks to everything that happened on the way to Vacuo. From Ruby's perspective. Heart wrenching.

- Gods. Neo has several bones to pick with her. Trying to kill her as they go down?! Holy hell.

- A land with two suns. A beach. Some colourful leaves. And a Dodo?

- I honestly thought there would a Ghibli-like image when the mouse was pulling at the leaves of the fruit. My Neighbour Mousoro. 😅

- The first 'what are you.' And it's from Little. Tell me someone calls him Stuart at one point. 😆. Little is ADORABLE though. No doubt about that.

- "I have seen plenty of cartoons." Ruby's explanation for knowing cats and mouse don't get along... Is there a RWBY version of Tom and Jerry?!

- YAYYYYYY! Blake and Weiss have met up. Will soon be kidnapped by mice I guess. About to witness a shot from the trailer. Vined up friends.

- OHHHHH. NO. Yang and Blake and Ruby don't know about Penny. FUCK.

- Weiss cheering for Blake as she tries to get her weapon. I am getting a little emotional. Look how far they have come!!!! 🥹🫶🏻✨

- Awwwwwwwww! The mice leader has heterochromia! CUTE!!!

- "Long, blonde hair. Looks kind of scary but isn't." / "But could be if she wanted to." Blake's small smile at THAT comment. AGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

- Little, the trusty guide, is once again drooling in Ruby's cape.

- I cannot imagine what Weiss is going through right now. Having to reveal what went down with Penny. Gods. How are you supposed to give your friends such terrible news? Is she okie.

- This new Grimm like figure looks to be a cross between a Pokemon and the Xenomorph aliens.

- Yang is here! And throwing rocks at the adversary. I love her.

- When Ruby says Yang must have forgotten who raised her... 🥹✊🏻

- Little knows what's up minutes within meeting Yang. She is trustworthy. 💯

- Listen. The way Blake whispers her name after tackling Yang to the ground... Sounds almost like a prayer. A wish come true. WOWIE. Excellent voice acting!!!

- Gods. Ruby sounds broken when she says Weiss' name. Great voice work here too.

- Fuck. The leader is not alright. Are any of them. They are just kids. Who have now lost two dear friends.

- Awwww! Little is using a leaf to fan a fainted Ruby. That's so sweet. 💖

- The door opening from the 'R' of RWBY's logo to the rest of the introduction... I like it!

- From a cold resolute demeanor, to a neutral face, to a full-on sweet smile. Weiss has evolved.

- Fiercely uninterested. Purposeful determination. And now a great big smirk. Blake has come so far.

- A nice polite curl of lips, a playful smirk, and then a broad excited grin. Yang is more herself and better than ever.

- Holy shikes. Ruby is regressing. Happy. Seriously dogged. And now turned away.

- The ups and downs of this song are nicely contrasting. Whoa. 👏🏻

- Who is the shadow person walking ahead of the team?

- Ruby can't bring herself to keep up with everyone running in front of her. GODS. This volume is going to ruin me as well.

- Neo has a whole gang? Already? She does get stuff done. Huh. Wonder what trouble she will bring.

- Getting some serious Alice in Wonderland vibes. And the shadow kid who was leading RWBY has a shadow too. Another kid with big glasses. Huh. And that cat is above their picture. Hmmm. And Little is there as well!

- Penny's blood that's still on Jaune's sword. Just. 😭

- Little's exclamation of friends is giving me war flashbacks.

- Yang's deadpan declaration of her feud with a raccoon... ���🏻. The voice actors are doing so great.

- The Girl Who Fell Through the World. Foreshadowing confirmed. They are in the Ever After. Hopefully it will be a happy one. Aghhhh, who am I kidding.

- Ohhh. The kid they were following is Alyx. Alice in Wonderland. Alyx in Ever After... Honey, you are familiar, like my mirror years ago 🎶

- A knocked out Yang has RWB coloured stars revolving over her head. 😂

- Blake is really into Yang. So much so, she "continues to pun." 😆. Whoever wrote these subtitles deserves forehead kisses!

- You know it's bad when Ruby can't even bring herself to be optimistic for her friends. Weiss just shared her feelings of doom and Ruby couldn't open up. Gods. Is this volume going to be her last straw?

- That whole thing with Little living near the bridge... Blake was in her cat pose for so long. 😂🫶🏻

- So the queen of hearts is the king here? Or is it the red queen? This guy has the heart symbol but is called by the colour. Both?

- Yang laughing to herself at the pun Little inadvertently makes. 💖✊🏻

- Cute Jinxy raccoon. Who is conducting an auction. WoWie.

- Ruby doesn't have enough hope. Yeah. This one is going to hurt.

- Oh my Gods. It's actually Penny's sword?!?? Let her cry. The Rose needs it.

- Blake being concerned about the story and how their actions can have similar far reaching implications. Truly a bibliophile. ✨

- Ruby is sad, there is rain. Someone give her a hug. Please.

- Penny may not have had a funeral, but she received a wonderful eulogy. Thank you Rubes.

- Good Gods. Their leader is snapping a bit and throwing strays. Where is the fucking therapist.

- The forest they are at reminds me of Forever Fall from back in volume one.

- Weiss is not having a great time around the red prince. At least she has grown enough to ask if she used to be just as insufferable.

- Ruby and Little's butter is actually good grease for the red prince. Enough to get him to listen. LoLLL!

- WBY are cute chess players!!!! AGHHHHHHHHH!!!!

- Little is cheering for them all. CUTE!!!!

- Blake is blushing 'cause Yang is applauding for her. She down bad. This is ADORABLE!!!!!!! 🥹🫂💖

- The cat. It's eyes made a brief appearance and blinked when Ruby mentioned they are human. Huh.

- Red prince's family did not have a great experience with Alyx I suppose. The king isn't around 'cause of her, am guessing.

- What did the cat put in the prince's heart?

- Does Yang ever find out Ruby can carry people in her rose missile state? Even when they are not tiny chess-piece sized. Blake must have told her.

- The curious cat has met other humans. Coolio.

- So the Jabberwock is the Grimm-Pokemon being.

- Neo vs Jabberwock. Looks like Neo won. That illusion with multiple of her was quite nice. And scary.

- Weiss roasted the cat. Yang ate it up. 😆

- RWBY telling the curious kitty RWBY's story. Talk about meta.

- The way the cat speaks about Alyx learning her lesson... I doubt it's the same thing the books described.

- The leaves of this place look amazing.

- Is the cat trying to make them depressed? Intentionally triggering more hopelessness?

- Luminous neon garden. I want one of these.

- Another Oobleck-like psychological discovery arc? I think the doctor will like this caterpillar-bug guy.

- How a king winds up a prince. The red prince? Huh. The exasperated bug-pillar is all-knowing it seems. And he smokes. And pushes for answers.

- Weiss, Blake and Yang now know who they are. How much they have evolved. That was a wonderful scene. Defined by more than failures and crude simplicity and a name. Defined by more than just the parts of themselves. Gods. This is good. ✨

- Oh no. Ruby.

- Herb was actually helping. What did the cat do. Now the caterpillar guy is following the kitty's line of thoughts.

- Herb has left the chat. May not be the best thing to happen.

- Much talk of going away and returning either the same or differently. With purpose new and perhaps old. Sounds a bit like reincarnation.

- I don't know if Alyx actually wrote the story, but it's interesting that Blake is thinking about how much may have been left out. Historians and storytellers have the power and authority to say as much or as little as they want. To twist figures and portray things from 'supposedly' their perspective. That's why multiple accounts are important. Or we may be left with a skewed version of events true for no one.

- RWBY seperated. I don't like it.

- The lights went out. Penny's sword turned into Alyx's dagger? Also, who be this fine person. Beating down metal like in a forge. Me likey. Blacksmith mama.

- Summer Rose's weapon?!?!?? She was here?!?!???The fuck.

- Weiss snapped 'cause Ruby didn't get what she left to bring. The leader is stuttering and feels bad. Stop. When's the group therapy session happening.

- Ruby exchanged the nose hairs for her mother's promise? The rose emblem. No. Shikes.

- Jabberwalker growth spurt. Things are not looking good. Is the creature following Neo's orders now?

- The Rusted Knight is Jaune. He grows old. Have already seen the pictures. Clocks in the opening with him make sense.

- Neo Jabberwalkers. Oh fuck. Illusions that can be more.

- Weiss seeing the destruction left behind. Gods. Another reminder of Atlas. Thank you Ruby for helping her in.

- Awwwwwwwww! Jaune named his furry friend Juniper!!!! 💖

- Jaune's end sketch gives me some subtle Ironwood vibes.

- Just noticed this. All the episode titles have some form of the consonance figure of speech working within them. NOICE!

- Jaune travelled back in time. Accidentally. Wait. Does that mean the story with the "handsome" (according to Weiss) rusted knight stars him?!? Alyx met Jaune when she fell in?! Shouldn't he be more old then. IF time followed the same speed as it did everywhere...

- Awwwwwwwww! Jaune got a hug from Little as well. CUTE!!!!

- Ruby's reaction at Weiss calling Jaune "mature" must be studied. So should Weiss' small glance at Ruby before the leader begins speaking.

- Jaune has hardened. Ruby isn't okie. At all. Bad weather and poor attitude. This is fine. 👍🏻

- Alyx had a brother. Louis. Huh. Wait. Lewis Caroll?!

- A punderstorm. No Yang or Blake. AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! I think I have seen this film before... 🎶

- "Must have had something bigger to work out." Hehehe :3

- They need to decide between Jaune and the cat. Ohhhhh.

- Oh my Gods. When Ruby passes one of those portal arch like things. Her mirror image towards the end. It's Summer. The fuck.

- Jaune sees Penny. Weiss, a destroyed Atlas. So the flowing water shows them things and people they feel conflicted over and can't let go?

- So, ascension bad. According to Jaune. Alyx definitely not great. She poisoned the rusted knight. Cat is feeding tree. Louis never returned. Huh.

- Not sure this is entirely right. Am going off the assumption Louis made it back, 'cause he was the author of Alice in Wonderland in our world. Perhaps he wrote the heavily edited story with Alyx. Herb's potion cloud showed her something about the future. Or she interpreted it as such. A betrayal maybe? So she became vigilant. Got rid of Jaune. Hmmm. RWBY had a different experience with Herb though. But it was interrupted by the cat. I guess I shall find out. Let's see.

- Listen. Yang only focusing on the Blake bit instead of the truths which help bridge the gap. Even though Blake didn't just talk about herself and it worked for her. Are you picking up what I am putting down? Yang. Lover girl. Blake is everything. AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! 🫶🏻

- I am re-watching the Bumbleby kiss. Of course. And when it begins, the song starts building like it's climbing a set of stairs. Perhaps this is too dramatic of me, but the way it moves up and up and up... Sounds akin to triumphant angels ascending. Holy, somehow.

- Yang's eyes take on this bigger shine when Blake calls her extraordinary. And then Blake lays it all on the table. While Yang says what she feels, but behind a thinly veiled veneer of admiration and awe. It isn't just about her. Blake is that way with everyone. Gods.

- Blake is so ready to say it. Yang sees her and thinks, I love you. Wants to tell her. But can't bring herself to give those words her voice. Looks away.

- They are so in tune, it seems as if their thoughts are engaging in a conversation.

- Yang hadn't even finished when Blake chimes in.

- When they finally kiss, it's two voices. Yet one song. In sync, but still with words which echo their own seperate feelings and identities. 🤩👏🏻🤯💖✊🏻❤️‍🔥🤌🏻🌟🫶🏻🫂🏳️‍🌈🪩🌈

- I just. They are who they are. Good and wild and true and free. Together though, they are even more. Of themselves. And each other. What else can anyone want. 😍

- Flowers bloom as they finally take that step. Sapphics everywhere, this is what happens when we confess our true feelings. Stars shine. Everything is more beautiful. Our world is a better place. I refuse to accept a different answer.

- I saw it again. And when Yang declares Blake has cat ears, she moves them in response. 🥹

- At this rate am not going to finish the episode today. (And I didn't. 😅😆)

- The cat is a master at manipulation. Twisting words to suit their needs. Something is not right about them.

- Weiss had a slight blush when she was looking at Bumbleby kissing. Fruits anyone? 🏳️‍🌈

- Ruby squeaked. The actual mouse didn't. Little only gasped. LoLLL!

- Jaune confirms it's been a long time coming. Juniper loved that kiss as well. ❤️‍🔥

- Crescent Rose has entered the picture. Ruby is not okay AT ALLL.

- Another warning before an episode. This one with distressing themes. FUCKKKKK.

- Jaune is helping the paper pleasers. Awwwwwwwww! This is his town and he is their hero. And it's citizens have the names of his friends. 😭🫶🏻😆

- He isn't okie either.

- The paper pleasers and their situation is euthanasia and it's ensuing debate. Gods. Jaune. Therapy.

- Bumbleby fights so well together. Weiss and the rusted knight are handling the rest. Jabberwalkers, walk away!

- Ruby. Shikes. Jaune. No. None of them are alright. Is therapy not a thing in Remnant?!?!?

- I have been Ruby and I have been Jaune and I have been Blake too. Even Weiss and Yang. They got almost everything right. Fuck.

- New episode, new warning. Gods. Will I need another day to get through this.

- Ruby. Kiddo. Little is sad too.

- She is at Neo's place. Roman and her killed Neo's uncaring parents? Huh.

- Torchwick is alive. With a different voice. This is more tactical than an illusion. Neo has grown really powerful.

- The fuck. Penny and Pyrrha and Leonardo and Clover and Ozpin and Ironwood. Having a tea party. What form of emotional hell... Oh shikes. This is her gang from the opening. FUCKKKKKKK.

- Thank Gods!!! Little followed Ruby.

- Neo loved Roman. So much so, she wants to destroy Red. Smash her into smithereens. Death is too easy. Oh no.

- WHOA. Neo can't speak, but making the people Ruby has lost say what she wants to... FUCK.

- Weiss understanding what it may have been like for their leader speaks volumes on her own development and empathy. ✨

- Someone save this child. Please. This is so bad. How much more will you break her.

- I don't like what Neo is doing. But I can admit she is doing it well. Too well.

- Curious cat being bad curious. Wanted to break Rubes down. Little is trying to save her. Awwwwwwwww!!!!

- Little is dead now. I am dead inside. What torture. Ruby.

- She drank the tea. In front of... Oh my Gods.

- Neo has no purpose left. A new vessel for cat curious.

- I need to go for a walk.

- Summer Rose. Reading the story. Whoa.

- TINY YANG AND RUBY. SO CUTTTTTEEEE!!!!

- "What are you?" And we see a statue of Rose junior. Well.

- Paper Pleasers to Genial Gems. Is the red one the reincarnated version of the Ruby Paper Afteran? 🌟

- Wise Weiss and healing group hugs.

- I like the theme here. The person you are after everything goes down may not be the person you started out as. And that's okay. Survivors, of their own mind and otherwise, should get to choose.

- Ruby is Groot. And still alive.

- Even though I have conflicting feelings for Neo, her having no attachments left to tether her to Remnant... Heart wrenching honestly.

- So Louis did write Alyx's story. She never got to return. Curious cat went very bad.

- Neo's illusions are too good. Fuck. Catty Neo. UGHHHHHHHHHH.

- Red like Roses instrumental playing as Ruby chooses who she will be... 🤌🏻

- Summer backstory?!?? She used to wear the rose emblem. Awwwwwwwww!!!!

- Ruby saw that. Her mum leaving with Raven. Holy fuck. Raven will be called in for some intense interrogation when they get back.

- Alyx saves Jaune. 🫶🏻

- Cat out of Neo has a new makeover.

- Ruby is back!!!!! With Crescent Rose and her mum's emblem. While Red like Roses plays. AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! ✨

- New version of Rubes. New version of her song. ❤️‍🔥

- Team RWBY turning into their colours while fighting the cat... 👏🏻🌟🤌🏻

- Neo bid farewell. I hope she finds peace.

- Little is now Somewhat. Bigger and has a cape. With a hood the colour of Yang's neckwear. The flowing leaf trail also has red accents. ���

- Familiar. Like a happy dream. 😭💖🥹

- Louis immortalised his sister by writing a story she could have lived. The one he wanted her to. GODS. THAT'S. WOWIE.

- Wait. So the tree is the mother of the brothers Grimm?!?!?? They are from the Ever After. Huh.

- Curious cat was one of their creations.

- Balance. The way it's shown makes me think of Yin and Yang.

- From Brothers Grimm to Team RWBY. An ecosystem of equilibrium... 🤩

- Basically they met the grandmother of creation. Huh.

- Oh my Gods. It's Ruby's Red Riding Hood arc. Little. Meetup with grandmum. 🤯

- Practice random acts of kindness when you can. Little and Somewhat will agree with the sentiment.

- Awww! Alyx left one last act of selflessness for Jaune. He is young again! With a teenager's voice. LoLLL!

- Bumbleby stepping into the portal together. 💖

- They have arrived in Vacuo!!!

- So the Justice League crossover happens when they still attended Beacon?

- I always knew the question with RWBY wasn't if I would like it. Only a matter of when. And I obviously love it now. No one is surprised. It's one of my hyperfixations currently. A RWBY post a day keeps the demons at bay!

- Parting thoughts: The ending sketches have my heart forever. Must consume the miscellaneous stuff that came before during and after this volume. Then it's time to listen to the soundtrack without the videos 'cause I won't pay attention to the lyrics otherwise. Also, need to get RWBY on every possible platform and conduct many many many rewatches; once it's made available for international audiences. Looking forward to trauma bonding with you all in the next volume! Take care!!!

[no-saints-around-here]

Yesterday's Cage for Tomorrow's Prison: Chapter 1

Yandere Shiba Family, Yandere Sano Family with BabyShibaSister!Reader

Masterlist

‎‎

heavily inspired by @sinreader 's Promise, and many thanks to @trashybandit for the bigbrain ideas!

tw: heavy incest, pseudo incest, explicit smut, yandere, drugging, sexual assault, heretic religious themes, afab reader, female pronouns, dead dove do not eat

“Our Father who art in Heaven.” His words bounced off the ornately decorated walls of the church, echoing back amidst the crackle of flickering lit candles dancing carefree atop their wax prison. At this time of night, it was only his single large figure that towered over the pews, his head of slicked-back blue hair bowed respectfully in prayer. Despite it not being Christmas quite yet, Taiju found himself having wandered back to the familiar, comforting environment of this holy place. Maybe it was in search of divine guidance through these difficult times, or perhaps it was somewhere he could think and ponder without distraction; God only knew he could use whatever help he could get.

Silence fell once more back over the otherwise lifeless building, blanketing the atmosphere with a heavy grandeur as the figure of an angel simply watched on from the altar, stone eyes devoid of any mercy of the inner turmoil Taiju was going through. The man sighed, dropping his clasped hands, yellow tiger-like eyes turned up towards the ceiling, a silent plea to the heavens. Where to even start? 

You were gone, missing from the penthouse he had called home ever since he had parted ways with Hakkai and Yuzuha twelve years ago. You - their baby sister, the single knot left that still held their broken family together - had vanished during his watch, and had failed to turn back up at the Shiba family home like you usually did. You, the only reason why your three older siblings were still in contact despite everything that checkered their past, the one person they would move the sun to keep you safe and secluded away from the harsh outside, the sole being Taiju held above all else in his heart right next to God. 

And you had abandoned him. Left him and his protection for a godless world. A dark and violent reality.

“Forgive me, Lord, for it has been a-” His usually formidable voice cracked, though the hitch in his tone was quickly swallowed. “A long day.”

The soft silk scarf wrapped around large shoulders was lightly perfumed with the fragrance you always wore, the gentle scent only serving to remind him of your equally kind touch. The last of the Shiba siblings to be born, Taiju had been the one to raise you from the beginning, though you were spoiled rotten by all your older siblings. And having promised his mother on her deathbed to always watch over you, he had always allowed you to do as you will, with you never once having been the target of his discipline. Was it his softness towards you that led you to decide to rebel? Was it his reluctance to ever discipline you like he did Yuzuha and Hakkai? Were you taking advantage of his continued goodwill?

Tai-nii! Up! The memory of your giggle from a time past reverberated in his ears, and if Taiju closed his eyes, he could still see a younger, tinier you - arms raised towards your oldest brother, insisting on being picked on and swung onto those broad shoulders. Your chubby, happy face as you dug into a burger he had bought for you, stopping to offer your big brother a bite of what was supposed to be your treat. Tai-nii, stop moving! You’re going to ruin it! Adorable doe eyes that held all the innocence of a lamb furrowed in concentration as you braided his blue-streaked hair into many tiny braids as he laid there and let you thread flowers right before his gang meeting. And any anger towards you that had begun to surge up into his chest instantly melted away, replaced with a nagging emptiness that felt wrong. He needed to find you, and soon.

But where could you have gone?  “She’s out there, all alone. Cold, hungry, dirty-”

That was an answer he still lacked after a week despite his best efforts, though perhaps all the search parties he had sent out would not return empty-handed this time. After all, Yuzuha, Hakkai and him had been so careful that you were allowed to see, meet and know all your life - he couldn’t think of anyone that you would be able to seek shelter with off the bat.

All his life, every second he had watched over you, your oldest brother had worked so hard to keep you pure, both of mind and body; it was what any good Christian father would have done for you as the Bible had demanded within its blessed pages, and in the absence of their own who was too busy working, Taiju had done it in his stead. And you had been so good for him as well when you were younger, listening obediently to everything he told you and learning eagerly from the person you looked up to the most in all the world, that bright and unsullied gaze filling him with joy. But then you grew up, and with your growth came the questions. The doubt. 

“Tainted.”

He couldn’t keep you home from school, not without arousing unwanted interest from the authorities, but with every passing day, Taiju could only watch as your once pure eyes were clouded over. Fouled, dirtied by filth spewed forth from dirtbags. He had tried his best to keep them away from you in the only way he knew how; the blood of sinners that coated his hands, that splattered across his face and stained his clothes was a low price to pay to warn everyone else away from you. Yet you still continued to stray from the light slowly but surely, first asking why you couldn't watch the television, to why your siblings were so insistent on keeping you at home and in sight when everyone else could ‘go and hang out with friends’, and then slowly progressing to why they were 'ruining your life’. 

Sighing, Taiju stood, dusting off and adjusting his tailor-made suit, handcrafted Italian shoes barely making a sound as the giant of a man made his way across carpeted floors towards the empty altar. It hurt him as much as it hurt you, but he was just doing what was best for his baby sister. Coming to a pause right before the wooden candle-laden table, those beastly eyes turned up longing to gaze upon the angel sculpture. Virtuous, sinfree, divine; you were once his little angel. “I pray that you lead me to my lost lamb, Lord, like how you shepherd your flock to the promised lands.”

‎‎

Despite all his protection, you just kept getting older by the day, and the day that he caught the gazes of scum lingering on your behind as he walked you out from the Shiba family compound was the day Taiju had had enough; mere beatings dished out to your unwelcomed company weren’t going to keep you on the right path. The time had come to solve the problem at the root. And even in his memories, Taija had to remind himself that it didn’t feel good. It couldn’t feel good, because it wasn’t like Taiju wanted to do it to you. But he had to do it to you, for your sake. 

Just the sheer thought of some sinner would have their slimy hands touching your delicate skin, fingers dipping into your panties as they touched your lips with that dirty mouth, soiling the purity that your brother fought so hard for- Such a detestable thought that he had to shower again just to remove the ick from his skin. No, he would never let you be taken advantage of, to be tarnished by demons. 

He remembered that he had kept you home from school that day without explanation, instead dressing you up in his favorite white dress and taking you to church. You didn’t question it of course, your head bowed as you listened quietly to his prayer, before compliantly following him home. Neither did you question the drink that the oldest of the Shibas passed over to you, simply drinking it down, washing the glass and putting it away. The sleeping pills didn’t take long to take effect, and it was the first time in a long while since Taiju had seen you in such a peaceful state, your face relaxed as you cuddled into the warmth of his chest, bundled safely in his arms as he carried you upstairs to his room. 

A twinge of guilt prinkled at his chest as the unusually silent man lifted your skirt up to reveal the pristine pair of panties, framed between your silky thighs, though it was mercilessly squashed down - there was nothing to be ashamed of. Because there was no pleasure to it, he told himself: a union under the eyes of the Lord. His unglamorous task of taking your virginity that your oldest brother was undertaking was all for your sake, Taiju reminded himself again and again. To preserve your virtue, to save his little angel from the sinners of the earth, he must.

You were wet between your legs, Taiju had grimly noted, the sticky liquid stretching to form a glistening trail that snapped as he finally peeled your underwear off, the cloth surreptitiously slipped into his pocket instead of being tossed to the side with the rest of your clothes. It was a worrying sign to your god-fearing brother of your slipping righteousness. Where have your thoughts been going? What have you been doing alone? Was he already too late? His distress was somewhat alleviated when he pressed your lips apart to find an unengorged clit, and a quick dip of his finger into your slit alleviated his concerns as you tried to wriggle away from the intrusion into your privates. Good, you weren’t used to the sensation.

Pulling his erect cock out from his boxer, the man lined himself up between your spread legs. But for all his mental preparations, for all the praying he had done in the week leading up to this day, every last thought was lost, ripped away in a sudden violent wind in his mind as he finally slipped the thick head of his cock into you, as he could only concentrate on biting back the satisfied groan that threatened to rip from his throat as he forced himself past your tight muscles. He was stronger than this, stronger than the immediate siren’s call of your warm walls that instantly began to squeeze around his member, adding to your tightness that surrounded him like the demons of the earth. Pressing through and deep into the tunnel of muscles, he finally bottomed out in you, the hairs that decorated the base of his cock like a halo tickling your soft skin.

He didn’t remember it being a particularly hot afternoon, the memory of a cool wind that gently brushed drawn curtains still strong. Yet the beads of sweat clung to his forehead as he began to thrust, pulling out slightly before gently pushing himself back in as far as he could go - a small mercy he granted you for you to be able to adjust to his size. Even in your sleep, you winced, your brow furrowed as tears welled at the corners of your eyes, your legs subconsciously attempting to close around him in an effort to push away the pain though you failed to wake, the sleeping pills keeping you pliable.

“Shhhhhh,” Taiju had soothed you, running one big hand through your hair as he bounced you on his lap, your bare skin barely making a sound rubbed against the cloth of his shirt and pants. 

‎‎

A soft soft chime of his phone, and Taiju was shaken from his memories. The gaze of the angel seemed more ominous as the night grew older, surrounded and swallowed at the edges by the shadows as several candles expired. The blue-haired man turned, adjusting the silk scarf around his neck as he left, his footsteps thudding across the worn wooden floor. “Amen,” he mumbled, as the double doors of the church swung close behind him.

He needed to find you, and soon.

‎‎

‎‎

You let out an eep as you were yanked backwards by the strap of your bag, though you never did hit the floor like the scrunch of your body and outstretched limbs had prepared for, instead finding yourself being caught and slowly lowered to rest against a warm wall of muscles. “And where do you think you’re going?” He whispered into your ear, hot air tickling the nape of your neck as Izana’s unblinking violet eyes glanced down at you.

Letting out a sigh, you opted to allow yourself to relax, slumping back against the tanned man as his arms moved to wrap gently around your waist: caught again. Your dreams of a quick jaunter shattered once more. “I-I was just thinking of popping out for some snacks,” you admitted sheepishly. 

You hadn’t even seen him there despite his white, wavy hair being a perfect contrast against the black sofa and dimly lit room, and you could have sworn you looked several times before attempting your getaway. Yet against your mind still screaming for you to move, to flee, to grovel and beg for mercy like you always had to in the not so distant past, it was sheer relief that surged through your veins as you realized that his disappointed tone was all you had to deal with now. Receiving nothing more than a hum for your rebellion still came as an unexpected relief to you where formerly you would have had to bare your buttocks for a spanking, two thick unlubed fingers forced into your tight pucker to make the punishment that much more painful. You shuddered, forcing those foul memories back. Come to think of it, you were definitely glad that your older siblings had remained unaware of your secret…excursions out from under their noses - you would have never gotten to know Izzy if you didn’t, and you would have nowhere to go.

Izana pulled you closer to rest his chin atop your head while you pouted at your foiled outing attempt. No words needed to be exchanged: those empty eyes gazing down at you said everything that needed to be said. Even just across the road was too dangerous alone given what was at stake for you.

The glimmer of the polished front door just a stone’s throw away mocked you from where you now sat amidst the grandeur of the reception room, though you knew that nothing looked like it seemed - that door was heavy, much, much heavier than its wooden facade gave away, and almost too hefty for you to pull open yourself. And it didn’t open straight out into the world you knew, instead leading to the lift that would bring you down to a concealed door hidden within an inoperable freezer in the backroom of a Toman-owned club; it was a when, rather than if, you would have been caught on your escapee.

But still, you tried. "It would have been five minutes tops, just there and back."

The white-haired man barely blinked at your plea, cocking his head to one side. “You want to go back there?”

Wincing at his question, his usually harsh gaze seemed to soften on you; you didn’t quite need the reminder that you were just across town from where you had run away from, nor that your siblings were scouring the city for any sign of you. The four walls of this luxury apartment were where your safety and security was guaranteed, protected from your former Shiba family who seeked to return you to your cage, though the same guarantee couldn’t be extended should you choose to wander out alone. “No,” You mumbled, burying your face into his black jacket, his tanned hand soothingly running through your hair. “M’ sorry Izzy.”

‎‎

‎‎

“Don’t worry about it,” Izana reassured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he cuddled you closer. You smelled…soft, a hard-to-describe yet addictive scent that he couldn’t get enough of. He imagined it would be much like what a newborn would smell to its mother. “What was it you wanted to buy?”

You were the fresh spring rain to his cold, hardened ground, new life to his tainted world like the first seedlings of the year. It was a well-kept secret that Izana had always wanted someone to dote on after the tough life that he had led, someone unblemished by the horrid world who he could lavish his love on and in return receive unconditional love. Someone he could latch onto and leach off and pass on the burden of a purpose to keep living. 

No pet would make the cut, nor would the hassle of maintaining a significant other be worth the risks or cost. And the crime boss had also known exactly what he needed, the same thing that the rest of his adoptive family (no matter how much he resented them at times) also craved for deep down, but it was exactly what they lacked in every regard: a baby sibling. Someone to spoil, someone to light up their world with their innocent doe eyes and toothy smile, someone to simply appreciate their existence and their presence without expecting anything in return. The youngest of them, Emma, was way too old and hardened, and there were no untainted hands left. 

So when you turned up after all these years, anxiously loitering outside one of the many clubs he owned on that stormy night looking like a lost puppy, soaked with nowhere else to go and no one to turn to, Izana knew he had struck gold. Who better to fill that hole in his chest than a new baby sister who had been so sheltered from the dark, despairing world? But you were his, and he so despised sharing.

“I was- I wanted to buy ice cream.”

Izana raised an eyebrow. ‘Ice cream? Do the kitchens not have any more?”

The corners of your lips pulled down further, your voice dropping to a whisper as if to keep a secret. “I wanted to try the one I saw on the TV,” you admitted, burying your head further into his coat in embarrassment. “The kitchens didn’t have that brand.”

He had known you briefly all those years ago, Izana recalled, as he propped you up better in his lap; you had bumped into him outside of your school, striking up a conversation despite him being dressed in his Black Dragon uniform, only to turn white and hurry away abruptly as if realizing something. And it was those innocent eyes, the same that still looked back at him when you blabbered to yourself, that Izana could never quite scrub from his memories every time he convinced you to sneak out to see him, not even after he lost track of you for all these years. Learning of your family explained much of your disappearance for all these years, but still; he supposed he’ll have to thank them for keeping you this pure just for him. You hadn’t even realized you were simply trading one gilded cage for another.

Trailing one hand up your creamy thigh, slowly inching further and further beneath your skirt, it was a complete wonder that you failed to react negatively, if at all. You didn't register it as wrong or weird, Izana mused, violet eyes watching as you enthusiastically described the advertisement that so caught your attention, the solid gold tag engraved with his name hanging from the equally pricy collar around your neck jingling away merrily with each wave of your arms. But he stopped before he had wandered too far up and retrieved his hand - that was for a more suitable time.

Any sane individual would know better than to approach the insanity that was the Sano family, yet you had waltzed into their - his - lives without a second thought, recklessly trading one jail for another all for the possibility of the real family you craved. Bundling you into his deceptively lean arms, Izana stood, setting you carefully back onto your feet. “Come on, I’ll bring you to the store.”

Your expression changed in a moment, the sheer joy at such a simple request being fulfilled amusing to the white-haired man. “Really? I mean, I don’t need it…”

One tan hand came down to gently rap you on your head. “Unless you don’t want it anymore.” 

“No no!” You did a little jig, before shyly slipping your delicate hand into his. “Thanks, Izzy.”

“Just Izzy?” 

“Izzy-nii-san.”

He let out an approving hum, free hand reaching into his pocket to lightly touch the cool metal of his pistol, the other tugging you to walk with him. “Good girl.” 

Those doe eyes of yours were priceless, but he couldn't help but wonder if they would look any different broken.

[ak319]

I absolutely love ur platonic yandere Arthur fic!!

Also I wanted to ask what would happen when a dangerous situation arose in the camp and reader got caught in the middle and gotten shot or had an injury because of it.

💌 Tysm for reading and the ask! This one surely has the potential to be fluff!

The fire crackled softly as you sipped your (tea/coffee), lost in thought. It was around 6 p.m., and Arthur, Dutch, and a few others had gone out on a heist. Though you dreaded the nature of their work, you still found yourself hoping everything went smoothly, if only to keep them safe. You hated the thought of praying for your brother's return at the expense of others’ losses, yet a part of you couldn’t help but wish that the innocent came away unscathed.

With most of the gang out, the camp was quieter than usual, leaving just you, Pearson, Hosea, Annabelle, and John by the fire. But the unexpected arrival of shadowy figures made your stomach twist, the O' Driscoll boys. Tensions with them had been escalating, and now they stood at the edge of the camp, their expressions dark and unyielding.

Annabelle gripped your arm, pulling you close. “Stay by me,” she whispered, as Hosea and Pearson stepped forward, attempting to keep the peace. John joined them, his hand twitching near his belt, and you grimaced, knowing his quick temper could easily escalate things.

“(Y/N), get to your tent!” Annabelle hissed urgently, her grip tightening on your arm. Her voice was low, almost a growl. You both being still unnoticed by the men feet away in the dark.

“What? I’m not leaving you here alone-”

“I can handle myself. You’re not ready for this, but here, take this,” she said, pressing a revolver into your hands. “Just in case.”

You hesitated, then ducked back toward your tent, heart pounding. Once inside, you doused the lantern and crouched in the shadows, revolver aimed at the tent’s entrance. Every muffled insult and tense laugh outside made your pulse race as you waited, breath held, bracing for whatever might come.

Then, gunshots rang out, mingling with the frantic neighs of horses. Shit. Shit. The situation had escalated. Agony twisted through you, both mentally and physically, as you sat there in the pitch dark, clueless about what was unfolding outside. Your lips moved in silent prayers, hoping for everyone’s safety and Arthur’s swift return.

The tent flap flew open, and Annabelle’s distinct shout of protest echoed outside. You recoiled as a man stepped in, his eyes flashing with surprise when they landed on you. Before he could react, you squeezed the trigger without hesitation. The bullet struck his thigh, and he doubled over with a furious growl of pain.

"AGH! You bitch!" He lunged forward, and the man’s weight crashed onto you, knocking the air from your lungs. "Little rat," he snarled through the pain, his hands gripping your wrists with bruising force, forcing the revolver from your fingers. Panic clawed at you as you struggled beneath him, desperate to twist free. You kicked hard, aiming for his injured thigh, and he grunted, momentarily loosening his grip and punching your face twice in return.

"You got some nerve...maybe we can just take you with us."

Taking advantage of his distraction, you managed to wrestle one hand free and clawed at his face, your nails digging into his cheek. He cursed, reeling back, but his fist connected sharply with your ribs, sending a fiery shock of pain through your side. You gasped, the sound cut short as he pressed down harder, his hand fumbling for the revolver between you.

You thrashed, trying to pry the gun from his grip, both of you wrestling for control. Your fingers wrapped around the cold metal of the revolver, and you tugged with all your might. But then, with a deafening crack, the gun went off, and pain seared through your shoulder as the bullet tore into you.

The shock overtook you first, numbness washing over your arm before the agony settled in, hot and blinding. The world spun as you gasped, fighting to stay conscious, but the weight of him bore down, and the pain was almost unbearable. Then a second shot resounded but this one targeted the man, killing him and his body instantly falling over, half of his body still on you.

"HEY! Oh, God! Ms. ANNABELLE! (Y/N) has been shot!" John shouted as he crouched beside you and soon Annabelle entered, the silence outside indicated that maybe it had ended, but you didn't have the strength to ask, your mind focused on the pain and the trauma of what had just occurred, making you lose your senses. Dimly, you heard Annabelle’s frantic voice somewhere outside the tent, yelling for help, but the darkness started to close in, dragging you under.

⋆⋆⋆

When Arthur returned to camp along with Dutch, Charles and Sean, he didn't even imagine that his day would end like this. That he would hear about an attack on the camp and that too when they weren't here, when he wasn't here. The happiness that had enveloped him due to the successful heist had diminished in a flick of a wrist, and on top of that, he got informed of what had happened with…you.

Arthur’s jaw clenched as he watched you lying there, fragile and bruised beneath Annabelle’s watchful gaze. The fury rising within him was unlike anything he’d felt before, a white-hot rage that blazed through every fibre of his being. It was one thing for these men to skirmish with him and the gang, to take potshots or swipe supplies. But this… this was different. They’d targeted the heart of his camp. They’d come after you, knowing full well you were defenseless. And that, he swore, would be the last mistake they'd ever make.

"She's…fine. She will be. I wanted to take her to the clinic but decided against it as it still might be unsafe out there so, I treated her here…"

He barely heard Annabelle’s voice as she spoke, her words filtering in slowly through the storm in his mind. Each shallow breath you took sounded louder to him than the gunfire he’d just come from. His fists balled tightly, his nails biting into his palms as his focus honed to a single thought, revenge.

Arthur spun around, his boots thudding heavily on the ground as he headed for the stables. He was blind to the concerned glances cast his way, blind to the way Dutch and Hosea turned in alarm as he tore through the camp with a single, furious purpose.

“Arthur! Where the hell you off to now?!” Dutch’s voice broke through the clamor of his rage, but Arthur didn’t slow down.

"Going to settle the score." He’d take every one of those bastards down, one by one if he had to. They’d pay for what they’d done, for the way they’d left you, his only real family, his anchor, his one solace in a life torn apart by violence. They attacked his fucking honour.

Arthur mounted his horse and gave Dutch a final look over his shoulder, his eyes fierce and dark with purpose. Without another word, he dug his heels in, spurring his horse into a gallop as he disappeared into the night, bound for blood.

Dutch watched him go, an uneasy grimace crossing his face. “Charles, go after him. Make sure he don’t do something stupid.”

Charles nodded grimly and saddled up. But even he knew there’d be no talking Arthur down tonight.

⋆⋆⋆

After wiping out the small hideout , which didn't take too long to find anyway. He came back and since then, he remained by your side, dismissing Annabelle.

Arthur sat close, his presence solid and grounding as if he could shield you from anything else that might harm you. His eyes, though softened now, held the shadows of all he’d gone through, the remnants of his own silent terror. He looked down at your hand, opening it with a gentleness that almost felt out of place.

It took him so much to bury the fear, of nearly losing you.

The one whose mischievous giggles annoyed him when you stole and hid his hat.

The one he showed his sketches to.

The one who tended to his wounds.

The only one who could bring that hint of his mother’s cooking.

“Here,” he murmured, pulling a small box from his pocket. “A gift.”

You blinked, lifting your gaze from your lap, a glint of curiosity breaking through your daze. He opened the box to reveal a simple yet precious pearl set, mirroring something he saw in you. But there was no escaping the knowledge of its likely origin, and you felt an old, familiar discomfort creeping up.

Before you could protest, he placed the box firmly in your hand, fingers closing over it in a silent insistence.

“It’s…I-”

“Shush. It’s yours.” He didn’t let you finish. It was the same line he always used, the one that seemed to erase the shadows of guilt whenever he brought you something from the spoils of his risky life, whether it be fruits, snacks or clothes.

“T-thank you,” you whispered, his rare smile easing some of the ache.

“I… I’m just so glad you’re safe,” he said, his voice rough as he squeezed your hand as if steadying himself as much as you. “I don’t even want to think…”

“This was bound to happen someday,” you managed to croak out, your voice scratchy yet resigned.

“No! No, it wasn't!” he argued, the tension in his voice unmistakable as he brushed a lock of hair from your face, his hand holding you steady. “I feel like… hell, like I let you down, and that just… just eats at me. I’m sorry, Chumchum." He knew that nickname annoyed you, but this time, it made you crack a smile. His grip tightened, and he leaned in, a promise in his silence, vowing to keep you safe at any cost.

“Not… your fault,” you murmured, voice faint but steady. “I’m… fine now.” Arthur nodded, a glimmer of relief in his eyes as he wrapped an arm around you in a gentle, side hug and placed a soft kiss on top of your head, careful to not cause you pain at the same time, holding you close as to make himself believe that you were here, safe and in the shelter of his arms. The warmth of his shoulder offered you a comfort you didn’t realize you’d been aching for, and before you knew it, you were crying softly, letting the weight of everything slip away against him. At that moment, he felt like a mixture of all the care you’d ever known, both fierce and gentle. Parental even.

"Don't worry, I fuckin took care of those bastards, did worse than what they did to you, won't even think of coming here ever again. Assholes." He was trying to comfort you in his own way, and somehow, this time, it worked.

For days afterwards, he hovered like a mother hen, fussing over every detail of your recovery. He made sure you rested, brought meals to your cot to feed you, and sat nearby for quiet company, even engaging in lighthearted bickering. And when he noticed the tension, took you for walks or even rides to town, be it the theatre or the circus. Whatever you wanted.

It felt so warm, like a blanket you hadn’t known you’d been missing until it was wrapped around you again. You saw how much he tried, how fiercely he watched over you, going out of his way to keep you steady. And in a way, you felt proud of him, too. You knew that, beneath the hardened shell of a man shaped by gunpowder and grit, he was still your brother.

(AN: Kay fun fact, so in English, Chum is like a petname, but in my language, Chumchum is the name of a sweet/dessert, lol.)

[sleepnowmychild]

Ok but my worship is very lazy.

Don’t think you need to have a massive altar or a million offerings to be a ‘good’ devotee. Just do your best, do what you can, it’s the thought and thanks that counts.

I’m a very routine stuck person (thanks autism), so I can’t change my routines without immense stress. If I want to go out of my way to do a big offering or something alike, I need to plan and prepare for weeks and have it scheduled and be mentally prepared for my routine to change even if it’s only for an hour or two. So my worship is mainly documenting my dreams when I remember them, going to bed on time and keeping good sleep hygiene, making sure the altar is clean and lighting the candles and incense when I remember. Talking to him, quick and easy prayers, things I can do before bed really.

Would it be super fun to have like a whole festival sleepover party? Absolutely. But I couldn’t do it 24/7.

Just do what you can, what your mind and body allows. If you’re chronically ill or neurodiverce etc, don’t push yourself too hard. Again, it’s the thought that counts. Do what you can and make sure you say thank you when you can. And to be fair, Hypnos is the perfect deity for the always tired and forgetful gang.