#like creepy things are happening but it’s not as atmospheric

[grayathena]

Tbh, while I agree that the animation quality is not great in episode 2 (and I’m not optimistic it’ll get better), my bigger irritation with the Uzumaki adaptation is that its pacing is completely off. I think part of it is them having to adapt multiple chapters into one episode becasue it’s only a four episode run, but I think having them make it so everything is happening at the same time rather than in succession really blows some of it for me.

Like, in the manga, one of the best parts was that creeping escalation. First the spiral affects one person. Then another and another. Multiple people at once. Increasingly gruesome deaths and a creeping sense of dread as things get worse and worse for our protagonists. Setting all these things on top of one another makes it seem like things are happening super fast, and I think a lot of Junji Ito’s work is best when it’s given room to breathe.

Admittedly, I think one of the biggest issues with Junji Ito’s work is that it just isn’t super commercially viable to make it into an anime. If you want to make animation that contains the detail of his manga, then you need to cut excessively or cram everything together because even having each manga chapter be one half of an episode would still lead to an anime that costs a ridiculous amount of money. Whether or not it would make it back is almost irrelevant- I just don’t think most studios are really willing to spend the money needed to make a good Junji Ito adaptation.

Could they have fixed this? Maybe. I think cutting multiple less-important chapters from the manga might have helped (Jack-in-the-box and the typhoon are cool but not as iconic as the snails or the spiral eye). But in a lot of ways, there’s no way you can accurately adapt the manga in four episodes and it would be a struggle to keep that animation quality up over any episodes that they added (they couldn’t even keep it up for more than one).

Perhaps I’m completely wrong in this and the series animation would have been good if there wasn’t executive meddling or production issues or embezzlement or whatever disaster happened there. But the issues with the script were kind of baked in there and I don’t think they were fixable without an overhaul of the whole series from the ground up.

[struggling-to-find-home]

Sometimes I remember the fact that one time during camp me & four other girls got sent to live in a cabin meant for 25+ people by ourselves and during the three weeks we spent there had the biggest amounts of horror experiences I've ever experienced in a single camp trip and I just think to myself, what the fuck

[fxrheisenn]

Andrus Laansalu talked about making Disco Elysium at EKA (Estonian Academy of Arts)

"Initially, the church wasn't a focal point. There were certain characters that needed to visit this location, and I asked, "Seriously, what do we have in our church?" The others replied, "Nothing at all. Our church is completely bare—just a wheel, really. It's quite basic."

That's when I decided to unleash my creativity in the design. For example, they chose to install a glass structure at the top of the church to create a reflective surface. It was like placing an optical clock up there. Therefore, one of the most crucial aspects of designing the church was ensuring the lighting was just right to create the desired atmosphere."

"Let me show you an example of Baroque architecture, which is rich in detail. We're also designing the interior of the church based on large cathedrals. However, the foundation you use might not yield the expected results, because the church itself doesn't require such intricate details. Sometimes, it's about simplifying the design."

"I used Articy for the initial scriptwriting of Disco Elysium. The image only represents a tiny fraction of the text and choice variables involved. This system was also the reason I eventually abandoned the project after a year of outlining the script and shifted my focus to becoming a sound designer. My mind struggled to keep up with the dynamic graphic rules, but fortunately, a more talented writer took over afterward."

"In terms of sound design, it's essential to develop different layers to bring out the charm of the church as a cohesive space. Although this represents only a small portion of the overall design, each layer actually requires a significant amount of time to compose the whole....... Whenever there's a shift or a change due to the dialogue itself, you need to adjust the background sounds. Each time you modify the details in the dialogue, I have to refine the background audio, ensuring that these elements build upon each other like an intricate layer of work."

"It's funny how many scenes involve characters getting smacked in the face. My job was to recreate those, so I locked myself in the bathroom with a recorder and hit my forehead until it turned red.

As a sound designer, I really dig those unsettling, drill-like sounds. So, I mixed in creepy lectures, metal scraping, moans, and cries of pain—because I just love that stuff! (laughs)

Players will be moving through all kinds of areas, so it's super important to make the sound transitions feel natural, trying to create a more immersive vibe in certain spaces.

With all the scenes featuring big cranes, you can hear them from far away, and I wanted to capture that eerie ringing in your ears. That's going to be a thing throughout most of the game. I've found ways to really mess with players while they're playing!"

"I've come across a lot of old objects (like phones and radios) that I needed to perfectly replicate the sounds. I started to become a bit of a hoarder, buying up different models of old phones whenever I found one to add to my collection. The sound effects I can simulate from them are really impressive."

"Some of the devices don't actually exist in real life—just a mix of architecture and tech. When I need to create sound effects, I first look for something similar that exists in our world, then I try to simulate what the sound and appearance of that thing might have been like a century ago.

Towards the end of the game, there's a character carrying a fuel canister. We needed the sound of the canister, so we dug one up from our garage—it had been sitting there since it was five! I realized this would make the sound perfect. So, it had been there for 50 years, and after 40 years, it finally found its purpose.

In some places, I needed unique sound waves, and recreating them was a real headache until one day I happened to walk by a swimming pool and stumbled upon an old wartime torpedo. You can rotate the torpedo's probe, and it slowly rises up, like a proud zombie head. The sounds it made were exactly what I needed!"

🙋How did you manage to get funding?

"Well, since we're in Estonia, you just need to know a wealthy person. You don't need five people—just two who can network, hang out together, and convince them to keep investing! (laughs) Back then, we constantly ran out of money and would tell them, 'Oops, looks like we spent it all! Can you invest a bit more?' That's how we made it through!"

🙋How did you all come together to make the game?

"Luck. It usually doesn't happen this way, and that's the key difference. It has to be. If not, you couldn't create a game of this scale - well, I mean in terms of budget. But creatively, Estonia definitely has writers and artists who can pull it off. With such a small population, there are a lot of quirky folks who are good friends. We were really lucky, though - lots of fortunate circumstances came together. It brought the right people together, allowing those talented fools to collaborate with us. They had experience but hadn't tackled projects of this magnitude before. So yeah, luck is pretty important!"

Lecture experience shared by 白兔YIYANG SUN on 小红书, reposted & translated by me with her permission.

[auclairedetoru]

Namami has only been seeing y/n for a month but he's already so smitten.

The way she walks, the way she talks, the way she carries herself, her confidence, the way she applies her makeup, the colours she gets on her nails, the pretty outfits she wears, her facial expressions, everything. He's obsessed with her.

He met her at a little bookstore. He mostly goes there to browse and relax after long and tiring shifts. He enjoys the smell of the books and the overall atmosphere, sometimes he ends up picking something that pricks his interest.

Y/n was there doing the same thing when she saw him holding one of her favourite books. She couldn't help but comment on his amazing choice. He thanked her and asked her if she liked it. She let him know that it's a top pick for her but not number one. He proceeded to ask which book she liked the most. One thing led to another and he ended up leaving the store with her number saved on his phone.

After he noticed that not only has he been talking to her for a week straight, but he also always looked forward to reading her texts, answering her calls and talking on the phone, he decided to ask her on a date.

Namami did not go on many dates before. But when he did, he'd always asked his coworker Gojo to call him at a specific time, if he was enjoying the date he would tell the person he's with that it's just work related and not to worry about it, but if he wasn't he would tell them that he's needed for an emergency and he would pay for their cab and make sure they make it home safe before letting them down gently the next time he talks to them. Thankfully he only did the latter once when the person was being borderline creepy and he felt unsafe.

The date with y/n was a first for him. After she agreed, he told her about the time and location, planning on taking her to a nice restaurant, a classic. He was surprised when she disagreed and asked if he'd be comfortable with coming over to her house. She told him that she loved cooking but never got the chance to make big meals. Namami agreed, and it made his heart swell with happiness when she told him she was excited for their date.

The date was nothing less than perfect. He immediately felt at home the moment he stepped foot in her apartment, he particularly loved that she uses small lights instead of overhead ones, something he does at his apartment as well. She set the table beautifully, with candles and some of the most unique tableware. The food was a whole different story. He could not believe he was eating all that for free. He has been to many fancy restaurants, but none of them compared to her cooking.

When Namami asked if it was okay for him to ask her a couple of questions to see if they were on the same page when it comes to the future if they're planning on sharing one, he was surprised again when she said she was glad he brought up that topic because she had her own questions as well. Namami immediately knew that this would turn out for the best because his past dates always either tried to dodge this discussion or told him he was rushing things.

He first asked her about marriage. She told him that she wants to get married and that it's definitely something she hopes would happen in the future when she's ready, he agreed. He asked her if she'd want them to live together with a partner, she said yes but not immediately, maybe one and half to two years into the relationship, he agreed. She asked him about kids and if he sees himself being a father in the future, he said yes but he wants kids not immediately after marriage but to wait a year or two before trying, she agreed. She asked him about how he would handle disagreements and arguments, he told her that he was a very calm person and enjoys the peace communication brings, so he'd sit with his partner and figure out the problem and how to resolve it, she agrees.

Namami started to feel giddy when he realised they have both agreed to many of each other's answers and even shared similar opinions. Would she be the one he spends forever with? The thought didn't seem so bad at the moment, he hoped to get his answer quickly.

But he wasn't expecting it to happen within a month.

They discovered they shared the same route on their way to work and began walking it together. Nanami started to look forward to seeing her. Every morning, she greets him with a smile and "hi, Ken!" which he started responding to with "hi, Barbie" after watching the Barbie movie, she always giggles and throws her arms around his neck in a hug. He buys her her favourite boba and she drinks it while they walk and talk about whatever comes to mind. He drops her off at work since it's closer than his, but not before pressing a kiss to her forehead that she started calling her "good luck kiss". They even spend their lunch breaks together by talking through facetime. He was the type to skip that free time to get more work done, but he stopped doing that in favour of talking to his favourite girl.

He started looking forward to seeing her and talking to her. Weekends have become boring, sure they text, but it's not like hearing her voice, even through the phone speaker. She consumed his brain, she became his first thought in the morning and his last before bed. Thankfully, Nanami isn't dumb, and he realised he is in fact falling in love.

He didn't want to play around, after all, they're both serious about this relationship. He plans on confessing, letting her know his true feelings. It's a scary thought, something he has never done before, and he hopes she wouldn't reject him given that he fell for her fast when they both agreed this would be a "getting to know each other" phase. But he can't control how he feels about her, she makes him look forward to the future, as long as she is a part of it.

It's the weekend, Nanami invited her over in the afternoon to watch movies and hang out at his apartment, but despite what the weather forecast said, the somewhat sunny morning quickly developed into a stormy evening, one that was strong enough for him to turn the hang out into a sleepover. He gave her a pair of his pajama pants and a shirt to get comfortable and put the frozen pizza he has for emergencies in the oven.

They're sitting on the couch, a movie long forgotten on TV as y/n tells him a very interesting work story. He's trying to focus, he really is, but the way she's so close to him, her folded legs almost on top of his, her hair wrapped around his fingers as he plays with the strands, the way her face lights up when she remembers a detail, it's all so precious.

“and then she got mad and-”

“I love you.”

Y/n stops talking and he's instantly regretting his words. They literally slipped out of his mouth, he had no control over them. It's like she pressed a botton and they came out. He starts fearing the worst and his brain starts telling him that he made things awkward and uncomfortable for her and she can't even escape because there's a storm outside. Fuck... Why did he need to rush? Everything has been going perfectly, and now he ruined it. He's gonna have to find a way to make up for this. He'll apologize a billion times if needed, but he can't afford to lose her.

“Ken, I love you too, so much, but I need to finish the story.”

Huh-

“Right. Sorry, darling. Please continue, I'm all ears.”

He isn't all ears, he can't be all ears, because he can hear how fast his heart is beating and he can feel the blood rushing to his face. She said it back, she loves him, so much too! Is he dreaming, is it still the night before and he hasn't called her yet to invite her over? No. It can't be. He wants this to be real... and it is, everything is real. The way she's holding on to his fingers is real, the way she's excitedly telling him the rest of her story is real, the way he's holding back from smiling so hard is real, the way the pizza smell is filling the room is real.

“oh shit, the pizza.”

Nanami bolts to the kitchen, quickly grabbing the oven mitts and pulling the pizza out just in time. When he quickly glaces towards the living room, he can see y/n hunched over and squealing into the pillow, her feet kicking slightly. He chuckles. She really tried to play it like his words did not affect her the way they affected him, but it seems like their feelings are mutual in every way possible.

Nanami is somehow even more excited for forever with her now.

[goblin-jr]

And then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you. 

Part 7 of 12

Synopsis: Kissing butt and moving forward

Pairing: unrequited JJ x Reader, Eventual Rafe x Reader

Warnings: sleazy old men being creepy, mild mentions of SA

Before you start this chapter, please listen to this song, this is pivotal to understanding y/n’s thoughts during the last scene. https://open.spotify.com/track/4zXuYQNDmw3dlauyc8q3Kd?si=646c78b4897948b6 

masterlist

—------

The country club was alive with the usual hum of polished interactions: the soft clinking of glasses, the shuffle of wait staff in black and white uniforms, and the low murmur of conversation filling the grand, gilded ballroom. Y/N moved through the space, her tray steady in her hands as she refilled water glasses and delivered drinks with practiced ease. Her eyes darted from task to task, trying to stay focused, but something gnawed at her.

She could feel the weight of JJ’s breath on her lips, the sting of his casual response when she’d told him how she felt. The memory of his pity-kiss made her stomach turn even now. It was hard to escape the feeling that something had irrevocably shifted between them. She didn’t want to think about it—not today. Today, she wanted answers, or at least a sign that things hadn’t fallen apart entirely.

She caught sight of him across the room, missing the usual smirk as he wiped down a table, leaning over to clear away dirty glasses. She walked toward him with a steadiness she didn’t feel. A few steps from his table, she hesitated, unsure what to say, but the chance to confront him felt too important to waste. Her heart was already racing before she even spoke his name.

"JJ."

He looked up, his blue eyes meeting hers for the briefest moment, but something in his expression shifted immediately. There was no warmth, no recognition of the awkwardness between them. He glanced over her shoulder, then back at her. “Not now, Y/N. I’m busy.”

The dismissal was swift, practiced. He didn’t even try to hide the way his gaze flitted away, settling on the next table with a customer’s request. As if she wasn’t there at all.

Y/N stood still for a moment, her breath caught in her throat. His back was already turned before she could say anything more. She swallowed hard, forcing her feet to move, the space between them suddenly feeling vast.

Before she could retreat further into herself, her manager appeared in her line of sight, his face set in the familiar, detached mask he wore when he had work for her.

“Y/N,” he called sharply, already holding out a clipboard. “You’re on for the private event tonight. Bikini server.”

The words hit her like a punch in the gut. She didn’t need to hear anything else. She knew exactly what that meant. A private party—one of those parties. The kind that everyone whispered about in the break room, and which most staff avoided at all costs. But there was no avoiding it when it was assigned.

Her stomach sank, and her mouth went dry as she reached for the clipboard without a word.

“Get dressed and head to the back. The event’s starting soon.”

She nodded mechanically, but inside, her pulse was already hammering. She had never done this before, however she heard about it from the other servers. the uncomfortable leers, the condescending smiles, the silent assessment of her in a bikini by a room full of men who didn’t care who she was as long as she was serving drinks. It was part of the job. She didn’t have a choice.

As the manager walked away, a memory crept into her mind. The last time she’d been assigned to a private event like this, JJ had intervened. She remembered him, laughing loudly and knocking over a tray of glasses in a clumsy but deliberate mess. His excuse to their boss had been thin, but it had worked—he’d saved her from being part of that atmosphere.

“If it ever happens again, just call me,” his words echoed in her mind. “I’ll have your back.”

She was grateful then. Grateful for the distraction, the sudden sense of safety, the way he’d made sure she didn’t have to endure the sleazy men and their eyes. But now, as she stood in the hallway, her phone gripped tightly in her hand, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was on her own this time.

Y/N’s fingers trembled as she pulled out her phone and unlocked it. She scrolled through her contacts until JJ’s name appeared. The hope that maybe—just maybe—he would come through for her again flashed in her chest. He promised she thought, swallowing hard.

She hit the call button, and the phone rang once. Then again.

With every passing second, her heart beat harder against her chest. The ringing seemed to stretch on forever, her breath quickening as the screen flashed with each new ring.

"Come on, JJ," she whispered, tapping the phone to her ear again.

The voicemail kicked in before she could brace herself. The robotic voice was the final blow.

She let out a shaky breath, her thumb hovering over the screen. Then, without thinking, she recorded a message, her voice quieter than she meant it to be.

“Hey, JJ… it’s Y/N. I, uh, I just wanted to remind you of what you said last time. You know, if something like this happens again, you’d have my back? Well, I’m going to that party tonight. And I could really use you here. But, you know, whatever. If you’re busy...”

Her voice cracked as she tried to finish, but the words stopped. She felt ridiculous, desperate. It wasn’t supposed to sound like this.

She cleared her throat and ended the message, but the silence afterward felt deafening. She hit “send” and stared at the screen, willing him to call her back.

When it went to voicemail, she just stood there for a moment, her heart sinking deeper. Her thumb hovered over the phone, but she didn’t press anything.

He's not coming.

She shoved the phone back into her pocket, the weight of it dragging her down. A last, fleeting sense of hope ebbed away, and she squared her shoulders. She wasn’t going to let it stop her. She couldn’t.

Her mind whirled, her thoughts a whirlwind of frustration and disappointment. She stuffed the phone into her pocket, straightened her shoulders, and forced her feet to move.

She passed by the staff locker rooms, the faint chatter of colleagues filtering out as they prepped for their own assignments. She moved past them with her head down, barely noticing the stares, her mind consumed by the scene ahead.

The ballroom loomed before her, its golden chandeliers gleaming in the dim light, the sound of clinking glasses and muted conversations pressing against her. She could already feel it—the weight of the men’s eyes, the way they would look at her like she was nothing more than the drinks she was about to serve.

But she kept walking, one foot in front of the other. It was just another job. She had to do this.

She could almost feel the eyes on her as she entered the ballroom. The air felt thick, heavy with expectation. She could already imagine the looks she would get, the comments they would make, the way her stomach would twist every time a man would glance at her with that knowing look.

Just get through it, she told herself. Just get through it.

–

The sound of clinking glasses and low conversation buzzed around Y/N as she awkwardly navigated through the crowd of older men in dark suits, her tray trembling slightly in her hands. She hated the smell of expensive cologne mixing with the stale air of the country club’s ballroom, and even more, she hated the way they looked at her—like she was nothing more than a decoration in a bikini, a piece of scenery for their business deals.

Y/N had been coerced into working this private event by her boss, who couldn’t care less that she was underage and shouldn't be serving drinks to these men. It was a way to make quick cash, and as usual, she had little choice. The job wasn’t worth the pit in her stomach, though. She could feel the eyes on her, too many stares lingering longer than they should. The glances from the men made her skin crawl.

Then, a hand gripped her wrist.

Y/N’s head snapped around to see a man, probably in his sixties, staring at her with a smug grin. The warmth of his hand made her skin crawl as he tugged her closer. 

"Hey, sweetheart," he slurred, his breath smelling of whiskey. "Can I get another drink over here?" His eyes lingered too long, the leer obvious.

She tried to pull away, her heart racing. "Please, let go," she said firmly, but he didn’t budge. 

The man’s grip tightened as his eyes roved over her body. "You don’t need to be shy, darling."

Without warning, he slapped her hard—his hand making a sickening smack as it landed on her bare skin. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as the shock rippled through her, and she stumbled back, barely managing to steady herself. A sting bloomed across her backside, where his hand had landed.

She couldn’t stop the hot wave of humiliation that flooded over her. Her mind screamed for escape, and she bolted, running away from the man and the crowd of leering faces. 

Y/N didn’t even know where she was going until she found herself outside, standing in the dark, hands shaking. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she wiped them away quickly. She needed to get out. 

"Hey!" A voice called out from behind her, and she turned, startled.

Rafe Cameron stood in the doorway, looking out of place in his designer clothes amidst the worn-out, sea-washed buildings of the country club’s back lot. He must’ve been checking out his yacht nearby. His eyes softened when they landed on her, and it was the first time she noticed how different he looked, how much the usually cocky and aloof guy seemed almost… concerned.

"What happened?" Rafe asked, his voice low and serious, and it took her a moment to realize he wasn’t mocking her.

Y/N’s heart pounded. "I’m fine. Just—just go back inside." She tried to sound confident, but it came out more like a plea.

Rafe stepped closer, his gaze flicking over her. "Don’t bullshit me. You’re not fine." His eyes flickered to her side, where the imprint of the slap was already beginning to show a bruise that would likely darken by morning.

Without thinking, Rafe reached out, his thumb brushing over the mark. His touch was gentle, almost tender, and the contrast between his usual arrogant demeanor and this softness caught her off guard. He leaned down slowly, pressing a kiss to the bruise—just the slightest brush of his lips against her skin.

It wasn’t anything like what the men had done. It was nothing like the way they touched her.

Y/N froze. It wasn’t just the kiss. It was the kindness, the way he seemed to care, the way he wasn’t treating her like an object. For the first time in forever, she felt like someone actually saw her.

Rafe pulled back, his eyes searching hers. There was a moment of silence where neither of them knew quite what to say. His eyes softened, but then, Y/N’s voice cracked the tension in the air.

“You kissed my butt.” Y/N blinked, her brows knitting in confusion as she looked at him.

“I—I kissed your bruise. Not your—your butt!” Rafe stammered, his face flushing an almost comical shade of red. “Look, it was an accident, okay? I just saw the bruise, and I wanted to… you know, I don’t know… make it better?”

She fought a smile as she crossed her arms, feeling a mix of disbelief and amusement. “You kissed my butt.”

“No! I—well, I didn’t—okay, I did, but it wasn’t like that,” Rafe blurted out, his hands flying up in a panic as if he could somehow reverse the ridiculousness of the situation. “It was just a reflex, alright? You looked like you were in pain, and I—ugh, God, this is coming out so wrong.”

Y/N couldn’t help it. A laugh bubbled up, escaping before she could even stop it. The sheer awkwardness of the moment was too much, and she felt the tension break in a way she hadn’t expected.

“You kissed my butt,” she said again, this time with a grin that reached her eyes.

Rafe groaned, his hands rubbing his face in frustration. “Please, don’t tell anyone about this. I swear, I’ve never been this embarrassed in my life.”

But Y/N wasn’t listening to his rambling. She was still laughing, and somehow, it made her feel lighter, like the weight of the world inside her chest wasn’t so suffocating anymore.

Rafe stood there, frozen and awkward, clearly unsure if he should laugh along or hide from the humiliation. But as the moment stretched on, his gaze softened. He stepped closer, his fingers brushing against hers.

"You’re not alone, Y/N," he murmured, his voice dropping lower, his usual bravado gone for a second. “I’ve got you.”

Y/N looked at him, really looked at him. She didn’t feel like a piece of the scenery anymore, didn’t feel like she was something to be discarded or objectified. Rafe had done something stupid, sure, but it was more than that. He hadn’t treated her like a thing; he’d treated her like a person. And despite the chaos, despite the awkward kiss on her backside, for the first time in a long while, she felt seen.

And in that quiet, vulnerable moment, she didn’t hold back. Her heart thumped in her chest as she reached up, pulling him toward her and pressing her lips to his. It was desperate and unguarded, the kind of kiss that said everything they hadn’t said yet.

Rafe’s hands found her waist instantly, his grip firm but gentle, pulling her closer. It wasn’t about the kiss anymore. It wasn’t about the confusion or the embarrassment. For once, Y/N didn’t feel like she was something to be pitied or tolerated. She felt wanted. She felt enough.

When they finally pulled apart, the world felt different, as if everything had shifted on its axis.

Rafe was still watching her, his gaze full of something she couldn’t quite place. But there was one thing she knew for sure now.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered again, his voice soft but sure.

And in that moment, she knew she wasn’t alone anymore.

---

Bonus

---

A week passed, and life seemed to go back to normal—sort of. Y/N tried to bury the memory of the country club party, but it lingered in the back of her mind, along with Rafe’s unexpected tenderness. The days since have been nothing but amazing. It wasn’t just the kiss—it was everything he’d done. It was like he saw her, really saw her, for the first time.

She was walking to the market when she passed by the country club, feeling the familiar weight of the place she had hoped to forget. Her steps faltered when she saw the manager standing outside, suitcase in hand, looking disgraced.

She blinked, then did a double take. The manager was leaving. Wasn’t he supposed to be working tonight? And wasn’t it just a few days ago that she’d overheard him muttering about having another event to handle?

Curiosity gnawed at her. She approached one of the other servers, trying to sound casual. "Hey, what happened to the manager? He looks... well, he looks like he’s not coming back."

The server looked around nervously before shrugging. “You didn’t hear? He got fired, like, out of nowhere. No one knows why. They said it’s something to do with his behavior at the last event. Real bad stuff.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She felt the adrenaline start to pump through her veins as the pieces began to click together.

---

That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and Rafe showed up at her house unannounced, she felt the need to ask. They were sitting on the porch, sharing a silence that felt strangely comfortable, the air still warm from the day’s heat.

She finally broke the quiet. “Rafe… about the manager at the country club.”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into that cocky grin that always made her stomach flip. “Yeah?”

Y/N hesitated, watching him closely. “Did you have anything to do with him getting fired?”

Rafe didn’t flinch. He didn’t even look at her, just took a slow sip of his drink, exhaling with a lazy grin, fully relaxed. “What, you think I got him fired?”

Y/N studied him, her pulse quickening. She could read him well enough now—he was hiding something, but whether it was guilt or pride, she couldn’t tell. “Did you?”

Rafe's eyes locked onto hers, the usual playful spark in his gaze replaced with something deeper. He shrugged like he was too cool to care, but there was a quiet intensity in his gaze. “Maybe. Maybe not. Doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Y/N’s stomach did a flip. There was no regret in his voice—just that casual, confident air that made her feel both at ease and a little... nervous. But it wasn’t just the words; it was the way he said them. Rafe didn’t do things by half-measures, especially not when it came to her.

“I don’t want to be your charity case, Rafe,” she said, her voice steady despite the tightening in her chest. “I don’t want you doing things like that for me.”

Rafe leaned back in his chair, the air around him thick with the kind of confidence that made everything else fade into the background. His eyes never left hers. “You’re not a charity case, Y/N.” He set his drink down slowly, his voice dropping an octave, and she felt it in her bones. “I’m not doing anything for you that I wouldn’t do for anyone I care about. But if you think this is me doing you some big favor, you’ve got it all wrong, it's just how I handle things.”

He let the words hang there for a moment, like he was giving her space to process, but the message was clear. He wasn’t some guy looking for recognition, and he wasn’t going to apologize for taking care of things in his own way.

“You’re not weak,” he continued, his voice dropping lower, more serious. “You don’t need anyone to fix things for you, but that doesn’t mean I’m just gonna sit back and let people treat you like shit.”

His gaze softened, his tone just a little more intense, and Y/N felt a rush of something—relief? Gratitude? Maybe a little something else she wasn’t ready to admit.

Rafe wasn’t looking for credit. He wasn’t trying to be her knight in shining armor. He was just doing what came naturally to him: protecting the people he cared about, even if it meant taking down someone who’d crossed the line.

He didn’t say more, but the quiet confidence in his words was enough to make Y/N realize that he had her back—whether she liked it or not. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

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Next up: happy times

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Taglist:

@hockeybabe87 , @idiotussupremus , @certifiedhaters , @oatmealisweird, @sluggmuffin , @maybankslover , @ren-ni, @wh0reforbucknasty

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a/n :)

[arachine]

*slides a big fat twenty your way* uh how about a part two of that non traditional family dynamics with gojo

dinner and a disaster . . .

synopsis :: when your oldest daughter is at that age where boys are starting to become the focal point of her universe, you bring out the big guns — which in this case, unfortunately happens to be her father (who is not exactly the best when it comes to disciplining his little girls).

or, in other words, you and gojo play good cop bad cop.

genre :: fluff

contents :: co-parent!gojo, mentions of alcohol, heavy dialogue, time skip (the girls are 14 and 12 respectively), gojo is in distress !!!!

note :: link to part 1 + link to part 3

it's 10 pm when you text gojo about the latest happenings going on in your household.

it's also 10:01 pm when you answer his incoming face time call.

he's wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket, laying down on his bed with a pillow under his chin and a hand propped up to support his head—he's comfortable, to say the least, and 100% tuned in to hear about whatever it is that you just texted him.

"is this what you've been doing all day?" you query with a laugh. there's a brief look of confusion etched onto his face before he picks up on what you were implying. rolling his eyes, he scoffs.

"it was my day off," he pouts, "can't a man relax in his fuzzy blanket?"

you squint teasingly at the screen, then nod slowly before mouthing an 'uh-huh'.

"i didn't call you to get berated about my choice of blanket!"

"okay, okay! i'm sorry," you grab a napkin from your nightstand, waving it like a white flag of surrender. "such a baby..."

"says the one who could never take...you know what, i won't finish that."

"smart man," you smile. "i want to be mad at you sometimes but it's almost kinda impressive how easily you can change the atmosphere...i mean, wow! it's record-breaking, truly."

"ha...ha. alright. i overstepped my bounds, i get it. can we just...can we just get back to our daughter? i'm starting to regret calling you on my day off—which, by the way, was going so great."

"great, love that we're on the same page," you give him a thumbs up through the screen. before you can get into the nitty-gritty of the situation, you take a brief pause to prepare yourself for the dramatics about to ensue—because if you know anything about gojo satoru, you know he's definitely one for the dramatics.

"when i tell you this...i want you to stay calm, keep a level head, and most importantly, i want you not to scream," you say, opening your mouth again to emphasize the last part, "and it's important that you especially won't scream, okay?"

gojo mulls it over before committing, "i don't know...it depends on what you're gonna tell m-"

"just—just promise, gojo," you interrupt, clearly agitated.

"alright, i promise."

"okay, so there's a boy..."

you're mid-sentence when gojo's eye starts to twitch.

"and she's expressed to me that she wants to go on a date with him." when you finish, you're half expecting him to yell, and half expecting him to end the call. but he doesn't.

in fact, he's so still, you're almost convinced he's frozen, but then he begins to smile. slow at first, and then all at once. it's creepy, you think, something straight out of a horror film.

"i know this was a lot of information to process, are you...okay?"

"pfttt, what? of course, why wouldn't i be?"

"well, you look scary. maybe i shouldn't have told yo-"

"SHE WANTS TO WHAT?"

and there it is. gojo satoru, king of dramatics.

"my little girl, my baby, my princess. she's only 10!-"

"she's 14."

"same thing, how could you let this happen?!"

"what happened to not yelling?! you promised!"

"oh be serious, i made a vow to you 14 years ago and look where we are now," he whisper-yells, trying (and failing) to contain his voice.

"dammit, you're right...well, at least we're on the same page! we both don't want this date to happen." when you take another glance at the screen, gojo's no longer laying down on his bed, but up and pacing around his room like a mad man.

you watch him for awhile, and when he doesn't seem to be coming back any time you soon, you call his name, "satoru."

"what?!" he turns to the phone. glaring at him, you wait for him to check his tone. "sorry, what?"

"i was thinking tomorrow you could come over for dinner? it'd give us a chance to talk to her about it...so that it's not just me telling her no."

"so, what i'm hearing is that you want her to hate me too?"

"no, i'm saying i want us to be a team. so, can you come over tomorrow? can you do that?" you ask, raising a brow.

"yeah, i'll be there."

at the same time the oven alarm goes off, gojo arrives. you can see his car pull into the drive way from where you are in the kitchen, and you mentally curse yourself for not getting ready sooner.

"fuck, uh okay," you throw your oven mitts, "hon, can you get the door for your dad? i need to go upstairs and get changed."

the youngest gets up from her place on the couch, "sure, wait...dad's staying for dinner? what's the occasion?"

you're halfway up the stairs before you stop, "enough questions, please. just open the door, thank youuuu."

ambling from the living room to the foyer, she opens the front door. gojo smiles, and immediately lifts her up into a bone-crushing hug that only a dad could give.

"hey bug, missed you," he squeezes her, much to her behest.

"ugh, dadddd, put me down," she drawls, pawing at his chest. gojo frowns and puts her down, putting a hand over his heart as if he were shot.

"you used to love that, you know."

"yeah, when i was like five."

"are you not?" he teases, but she's not amused. he nudges her arm annoyingly until she begins to smile. "there we go, punk. now can i have a real hug? you're hurting my feelings."

like a true pre-teen, she rolls her eyes and reluctantly trudges over to him, then opens her arms up for a hug. at this stage, you've noticed that hugs are okay, but only when it's on their own terms—and you especially can't initiate them when their friends are around (you learned that the hard way).

when they pull away, gojo takes his shoes off and wanders through the house. "where's the other brat at?"

"upstairs."

gojo nods, "uh-huh...where's your mom at?"

"right here." gojo hears you before he sees you, and then he lifts his head up to see you at the top of the stairs standing behind the banister. before you make your way downstairs, you waltz over to your daughter's room and knock on the door.

"hey, dinner's ready. come on downstairs. somebody's here to see you." as you begin turning around, the door flies open and out comes your moody teenage daughter.

"who is it?" she queries, following behind you like a duckling.

from where he stands at the bottom of the staircase, gojo raises a hand and waves.

"hey, scrub."

"dad? what are you doing here?" your oldest questions, but still goes in for a hug.

"your mom invited me over for dinner, that cool with you?"

she nods, then turns to her sister. they exchange a knowing look that, if translated, would be: something's definitely up. they wait for you and gojo to head to the kitchen before having a quick debrief.

"you definitely did something," the youngest side eyes.

"wha-why would you think i did something? you're the one failing a class," she rebuttals.

"ok well...this isn't about me! they only get together when one of us does something. don't you see? they're teaming up...this is an intervention."

the oldest pinches the space between her brows, "i can see why you're failing english now, because the way you just jumped to conclusions like that is actually insane."

dinner goes by without a hitch. for majority of it, you spend the time talking about work, school (which seems like a sensitive subject because the youngest wouldn't look either of you in the eye), and the plot of this hbo show with adult kids who're trying to take over their father's company.

gojo brings it up, of course, and jokingly says that the show was written with him in mind. he asks the girls if they'll fight over who'll inherit the company when he dies, and it turns into a i'm the better daughter debate.

when it gets a little too rowdy, you have to remind them that this is all hypothetical and that their father is a menace who likes to cause chaos whenever possible. gojo pouts and says you're no fun, but quickly fixes his face when he sees your pointed glare.

"come help me with the dishes," you say, and then disappear into the kitchen.

the two of you fall back into old habits. you wash the dishes, he dries and sets them on the rack. it feels like it did in the beginning, only this time, he'll be leaving when the two of you set out to do what you originally intended.

"dinner was nice," he says after about 10 minutes of comfortable silence. he doesn't look up, doesn't even make a joke about your cooking (which, you were totally expecting him to do). instead, he just continues drying the plate you handed to him.

"you know, you're welcomed to come again. you don't always have to be away in that apartment all by yourself," you start, choosing your words carefully, gently. "the girls like eating with their dad."

"i like eating with them too. i guess i'll start coming by more often then."

you almost miss it but there's a smile on his face, and it's genuine. instead of pointing it out, you savor the moment.

your reasoning for his coming here was to talk to your daughter, but it was also to get him out of the apartment. see, you were sneaky like him too, and what he didn't know wouldn't kill him. to you, this was just hitting two birds with one stone.

when you finish up, the two of you discuss the plan over for what seems like the 100th time.

"so, we're gonna go in there and be cool about it, okay? we won't hound her. we're just gonna tell her like it is, and then let her down gently. got it?"

"got it."

"after you," gojo extends his arm.

"wha-ugh, fine."

as you lead the way, gojo has to keep a hand on your back to keep you from turning back around. so far, you've attempted to retreat five times—you're two feet away from the kitchen entrance.

"will you just go?" there's irritation laced in his tone.

"okay, just stop pushing me."

"no promises, keep walking."

you sigh, but heed his request. with a hand still on your back, he guides you all the way to the living room. the girls are watching tv but quickly avert their focus when they notice you standing next to the couch with a freakish smile plastered on your face. gojo whispers in your ear to be cool and you immediately gather your wits.

"mom...your face...dad what's wrong with her face she's scaring me," the youngest pauses the tv.

"sweetie, will you go upstairs for a minute? your dad and i have to talk to your sister."

seeming to be catching on, she gets up from the couch and says a 'told you' to her sister before running upstairs. you and gojo share a look.

"what's up?" she asks, still weirded out.

"you see, well...we've been talking and..." you start, "your father has something he wants to tell you!"

gojo snaps his head towards you, gasping in the same motion. "hey, what the hell happened to being cool?"

"no promises, remember?"

"oh, you litt-"

"dad."

"sorry, uh, shit. i wasn't prepared for this. this wasn't the plan," he begins, "so, i heard there's a boy...and...you're at that age where boys are cute..."

she looks at the two of you in abhor and groans. gojo pauses briefly, but you encourage him to continue.

"and i've come to understand that you're interested in one and want to go on a date?"

"yeah."

"oh...okay well, i—we just don't think that's a good idea. you're 14, in school, and honey, you're so young...you have your whole life to be interested in boys."

"wait, what do you mean 'we'?"

"your mom and i talked about it and-"

"mom said she was fine with it."

gojo smiles in shock and then blinks, once, twice, three times.

"we'll be back," he announces, pulling you by the arm to the kitchen.

when you get to the kitchen, he releases your arm and pinches the skin between his brows. it takes all of about five seconds before he erupts.

"'we're a team, satoru', 'we're in this together', bullshit! you wanted me to be the bad cop, didn't you?"

"not initial-"

"didn't you!"

"okay, sorry! i may have...gave in when she asked, but i figured you'd be able to tell her no!"

"why would you think that!? she's my little girl!"

"she's my little girl too!"

gojo walks over to the cabinet and pulls out a glass. "i can't right now, i need a drink. what do you have?"

opening another cabinet, you pull out a bottle of pink whitney. gojo sucks his teeth. it was such a girl drink, but it was all you had so beggars couldn't be choosers. shrugging, he raises his glass for you to pour the drink into.

grabbing another glass, you sit down and join him.

"we've been had, huh?"

"how is that?"

"because we both can't say no to her."

gojo raises his glass to his lips and swallows it all down in a few gulps.

your daughter goes on a date the following week, and gojo starts looking into trackers.

© arachine 2023

[maleyanderecafe]

Locked Out (Kinetic Novel)

Created by: SlowlyTee 🍓

Genre: Horror/Romance

This is a short but complete kinetic novel about a girl named Sallie who gets locked out of her apartment and has to wait it out in her neighbor Kien's apartment until she can get the locksmith to come. It has a very nice art style and a bit of a twist near the end, even if it does feel like it ends in a cliff hanger. You can find more at @slowlytee.

The story starts out with Sallie coming back home from her work after a snowstorm only to find that she had accidentally locked her keys inside of her apartment. She finds that there's nobody she can turn to and instead calls a locksmith to help her get back in. Because of the snow storm, the company estimates that it will take them about an hour and a half to the apartment, meaning that Sallie will have to either stand outside in the cold or find a place to stay. While contemplating on the nearby places and how creepy that one guy at the mall was, her new neighbor Kien comes by and offers for her to stay at his place to wait. Having no real other option, she agrees and hangs out at his place to talk. We find out the reason why Kien is out so late is because of his insomnia and he talks about how he manages it, letting himself work on various projects to tire himself out. As a freelance editor, he is able to work on many projects on his own time. Sallie also talks about her job as a bartender and her desire to be a journalist, even if she knows her family doesn't really support her on this decision. Kien offers her a drink and suggests drinking some wild berry tea which Sallie agrees to. After variously talking for a bit, Kien heads to the bathroom and Sallie ends up passing out on the couch. Upon waking up, she finds that she missed the locksmith by two hours, causing her to panic. Kien comes in to tell her that he decided to pay for the fees and got her door unlocked while she was asleep. When asked to pay him back, Kien instead asks for her to go on a coffee date with him which she agrees to. After being given some wild berry tea leaves, Sallie returns back to her apartment. She decides before sleeping to call the company and figure out how much she owns Kien, however, upon calling, she finds that Kien actually cancelled the service stating that he was Sallie's boyfriend and simply unlocked it for her, leading the caller to get annoyed and scold her a bit for wasting her time. Immediately afterwards, Sallie goes to Kien's house and pins him against the wall angry. She more or less curses at Kien and tells him to not mess with her before he laughs stating that her reaction was very interesting.

First things first, I really like this artstyle in this game-it reminds me of an artist that I follow on instagram though it's not the same person. I think that the snowy atmosphere really brings a very good feeling to everything, not only the coldness that Sallie feels but also the contrasting warmness of when she goes into Kien's apartment. All in all, I honestly just really like the art style for this game. Another thing I like is how generally grounded this game is, as everything that happened is something that could feasibly happen in real life, which I think is always a fun thing to see in these types of kinetic novels. Despite how short it is, it's able to showcase both of the character personalities- even certain things like Sallie turning on Kien at the end by coming to his apartment and pushing him against the wall are also foreshadowed in her conversations with Kien.

Sallie initially comes off as a bit more aloof and reserved towards others, though it's completely understandable given that she's locked herself out of her apartment during a snowstorm. She doesn't actually ask Kien initially when she sees him to perhaps let her stay in his apartment until tlhe snowstorm starts, out of both politeness and out of awkwardness. We see this too when she stays in his apartment at least until Kien makes her more comfortable and insists on paying back Kien even after Kien tells her its okay, going so far as to call on the same day to figure out the pricing. At the same time though, we see that her job wasn't supported by her parents and thus she has to fund her own college classes through bartending. There's a sense of not wanting to have to be in debt in others no matter the cost, so I can see where she might have a kind of turn like this near the end. There are definitely bits of personality that shine through from what initially seems like a more polite and passive protagonist.

Kien, until the reveal at the end, is pretty good at hiding his yandere intentions. It's likely that he has been watching Sallie for a while, either because of his insomnia that allows him to watch over her at various times, or if he was lying just to make conversation with her. It also makes you wonder whether or not Kien himself was the one who locked Sallie's apartment door or if she did honestly forget and he took advantage of the situation. I think the most obvious thing he does is drug the tea that Sallie had- I honestly thought he was going to kidnap her after this instance, but instead he just goes out to unlock her door. Honestly, if Sallie had not decided to call the place to figure out how much she owed Kien, she probably wouldn't have found out that he was doing all of these things, like calling her his girlfriend or unlocking the door himself. I actually like this approach since there are a lot of little subtle hints into what's going on and then an ultimate confirmation at the end to see what he actually did. I am curious about his reaction though since he seems pretty smug for someone who was caught stalking and making a copy of her keys.

The game ends pretty abruptly on a cliff hanger. I think that while it could have made a more clean cut ending, the way that the cliff hanger ends give a sense of intrigue for what is to come. However, I can see why people would not like it since it is very abrupt and seemingly comes out of nowhere. Still, I think that it's a fun short game with a yandere in it with a good art style. Try it out if you haven't.

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

request: can you write one where the sister is newly 21 so she’s at the bar but she’s without her brothers because she decided to stop there last minute just for a drink. She ends up getting drugged and she rushes to the bathroom and calls her brothers for help. The guy ends up breaking the door down but before anything happens really, Sam and Dean rush in and take care of it. The drug is tripping her out and she throws up outside too. I know you’ve already kind of done these stories but I thought a mix of them box could be good. I don’t know I thought this could be an interesting story.

A/N: Hi!! I hope you like this! Even if I’ve already written something I’ll continue to write more if you request them— I don’t mind! This was a great request. Requests are always open!

Warnings- drugs/roofies, attempted SA,

Sam and Dean Winchester x sister!Reader

The neon lights of the bar buzzed faintly above you, flickering like the last remnants of the day’s energy. It was crowded, loud, the kind of place where people went to forget. You weren’t here for that—just trying to blow off some steam after the last hunt. But now, as you sat on a barstool, sipping your drink and scanning the room, everything felt off. The glass in your hand was suddenly heavier than you remembered, and your vision, sharp a moment ago, now felt blurry around the edges.

Focus, you told yourself. You needed to focus. But it was like someone had turned the volume down on the world, muffling the voices around you, the laughter, the clinking of glasses. Everything was... distant.

The man who had been sitting next to you moments ago was now gone, his seat empty. You didn’t even remember him leaving. That’s when you started to feel it—the overwhelming sense that something wasn’t right. It wasn’t the alcohol; it wasn’t the atmosphere. It was the weird, creepy sensation crawling under your skin, like a thousand invisible fingers skittering across your arms. Your hands were trembling now, and you tried to steady them against the bar, but it was no use. You were suddenly very aware of how heavy your eyelids felt.

The bathroom.

You needed to get to the bathroom. Now.

You lurched from your seat, your legs unsteady beneath you, and staggered across the room. Everything seemed to sway around you, like the world had gone drunk on its own axis. The door to the bathroom felt miles away, but somehow, you made it, your palm flat against the cool metal as you pushed it open. Slamming the door shut behind you and locking it.

Inside, the bathroom was a small, dimly lit space. The fluorescent lights flickered above, casting an eerie glow on the tiles. Your back was against the door before you stumbled forward, gripping the sink tightly as the nausea hit, a wave of dizziness so intense it felt like the floor might just swallow you whole.

What the hell was happening?

The panic started to creep in, your breath coming in short, shallow bursts. Your heart thudded in your chest like a drumbeat, faster and faster, and your hands were shaking so badly you could barely hold onto the edge of the sink.

You didn’t know what was happening to you, but you knew it wasn’t normal. You knew you weren’t just drunk. This felt like something else. Something... worse.

No. No, no, no. This can’t be happening.

Your mind started to race—too many thoughts at once, too many wrong things. Your vision swam in and out of focus, the edges of the room blurring and then snapping back into clarity, only to fade again. A sick, icy dread curled in your stomach as you realized: you weren’t going to be able to get out of here. You were losing control.

No. No, I can’t pass out here. I can’t—

You fumbled for your phone in your pocket, your fingers slipping against the smooth screen. It took everything you had to unlock it and call the one number you knew could help you, the one person who could always save you.

Dean.

You dialed his number, your heart pounding so loud you thought it might drown out the ringtone. The phone rang once, twice, before it clicked, and his voice came through, sharp and worried.

“(Y/N), what’s up?” Dean’s voice was still upbeat, though you could tell he was trying to be casual, not knowing that everything inside of you was falling apart.

“D-Dean?” you stammered, struggling to get the words out as your chest tightened. You could feel the tears pricking at your eyes, your voice trembling, but you couldn’t help it. “I... I... I don’t know what’s happening. Something’s wrong, Dean... I... I think I’m... I don’t know... I think I’m gonna pass out or something.”

“Hey, hey, (Y/N), what’s going on? What’s happening?” Dean’s voice was sharp, laced with panic and urgency. “Where are you? Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“Dean… I don’t know, I don’t know,” you gasped, your words slurring and getting caught in your throat. The spinning was getting worse. The walls of the bathroom felt like they were closing in on you. “I... I’m not okay. I... I don’t know… I don’t know what’s happening, I... everything’s spinning.” The words tangled in your mouth, and you barely recognized your own voice.

“Where are you?” Dean demanded, his tone growing frantic. “What do you mean you’re not okay? Are you hurt? What happened?”

“I’m... in the bar,” you stuttered, gasping for breath between every word. “I don’t... I don’t know what’s going on, I feel... I feel dizzy, Dean, I feel so weird. I’m... I’m so scared...”

Dean’s voice faltered for a second, then snapped back, tighter, sharper. “Sweetheart, what do you mean? Where are you in the bar? Who are you with? Did someone...”

Your heart lurched, the word hanging in the air like a physical weight, but you couldn’t process it fully. "I... I don’t know... I don’t know who I was with..." You gasped, fighting against the overwhelming fog. “I feel like... everything is moving too fast… like... like I’m not here… I don’t know… I don’t know, Dean... I don’t know what’s happening...”

“Did someone drug you?” Dean’s voice was suddenly sharp, his words clipped, the panic now hitting his voice with force. “(Y/N), did someone drug you??”

His words made your chest tighten, but something inside of you clicked, like a terrible realization. You weren’t just confused. You weren’t just dizzy. Something wasn’t right. You weren’t in control of your own body, your mind was slipping away from you, and the terror of that realization set your heart racing.

“Wh-what?" Your head felt like it was swimming in an endless fog, and you couldn’t make sense of the words he was saying. “No... No, I’ve never done drugs... What... what do you mean?” You stammered disoriented.

“Goddammit,” Dean cursed, his voice breaking as he pieced together the worst possible scenario. “Someone drugged you, slipped you something in your drink. I’m coming, I’m coming to get you, kid. Stay with me.” Dean’s heart broke as he heard the confusion in your voice. He knew, though. He knew exactly what was happening to you. Someone had slipped something into your drink, and you were paying the price for it now. It made his blood boil, but right now, all that mattered was getting to you, making sure you were safe.

“But… but I’ve never done drugs before.” You blinked at the confusion clouding your vision, trying to make sense of what was happening to you.

"I know you’ve never done drugs before, I know sweetheart, I know. Someone did this to you. Someone put something in your drink, okay? You’re gonna be alright though, I’m coming. Stay with me.” He said gently, trying to explain what was happening to you, though the pain in his voice was evident.

“I... no... I don’t... I don’t understand…Why...” You were gasping for breath, your words slurring more and more, the confusion twisting in your mind. “I don’t understand, Dean... I don’t know... What... what’s happening to me?”

Dean clenched the steering wheel in his car, his knuckles white as his heart pounded painfully in his chest. “Listen to me, sweetheart. You’re gonna be okay. I’m on my way. I need you to just stay calm for me, alright? We’re gonna get you out of there. Just stay with me.”

Tears welled in your eyes as the panic started to swell inside of you. You were slipping. You were fading. You could feel it, a terrible, unrelenting fog in your mind, and the thought of losing control—of passing out—sent a new wave of fear crashing into you.

“I... I don’t want to… I don’t want to pass out, Dean! Is… is someone going to hurt me.” You gasped, the words tumbling out in a frantic, terrified rush. Dean clenched his jaw knowing exactly why someone roofied you, but he couldn’t instill that fear in you. “Hey! No…No! No one’s going to hurt you. I’m coming to get you, I’m coming.” But your mind already connected the dots which spiraled you into a deeper panic. “What if... what if I can’t... what if someone comes in... I can’t... I can’t stop them… I can’t fight them, I... I’m not strong enough! What if—what if something happens to me?”

Dean’s heart cracked at the sound of your voice, so broken and terrified. He was practically yelling into the phone now, his voice rising with frustration, desperation, and worry. “(Y/N), listen to me. You’re locked in the bathroom, alright? No one can get to you. No one can hurt you. You just stay away from the door. You’re gonna be fine. I swear to God you’re gonna be okay.”

“I’m scared, Dean,” you whispered, so softly now that it barely made it through the receiver.

"I know, sweetheart," Dean’s voice cracked, like it was breaking apart at the seams. "I know. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Just stay with me. We’re almost there. Just hold on."

Your body was shutting down, your mind was swimming, and you couldn’t fight it anymore. You didn’t know if you could hold on, didn’t know if you could stay awake.

Everything was starting to fade.

You gasped again, your breath hitching. "I can't...

“I-I'm gonna-pass out, Dean."

“Stay awake, (Y/N). Don’t you dare let it pull you under,” Dean’s voice cracked as he gripped the steering wheel harder, driving faster, his own panic starting to bleed through.

Suddenly, you heard muffled sound in the background, a voice from the phone, sharper and more insistent. "Dean, give me the phone," Sam barked. "Give me the damn phone."

Dean grunted, clearly panicked, but he handed it over. Sam's voice cracked through the phone almost immediately, low and commanding, but so full of fear that you could hear it even through your confusion…

Sam immediately spoke into the phone, his voice soft and gentle, trying to ground you. “(Y/N), hey, it’s Sam. I’m here. Just... just breathe for me, okay?”

“Sam?” Your voice was thin, confused. “What’s happening? Why am I... What’s wrong with me?”

Sam’s heart sank hearing the confusion and panic in your voice. “You’re going to be okay. We’re coming to get you, okay? You’re gonna be alright. Just stay calm. I’m right here.”

You whimpered, your head spinning uncontrollably. “I’m so scared, Sammy... What if someone gets in? What if they hurt me? I don’t know what they want...” Your voice trailed off into another sob, and the fear that clenched your heart was almost suffocating.

Sam's voice softened, trying to soothe you as much as possible. “You’re safe, (Y/N), you’re locked in the bathroom. No one’s getting in. Okay? You just stay away from the door, alright? Don’t open it. Don’t even get near it. We’re almost there. Just stay with me. You’re safe.”

You could barely understand his words, the fog thickening, but you clung to them, trying to focus on the sound of his voice. The air was too thick, the silence too loud, and the weight in your chest was unbearable.

The sound of the door rattling suddenly shattered your fragile grasp on reality. The harsh knocking echoed through the room, sending your heart into overdrive.

“Sammy?” you whispered, barely able to speak. “Is that you? Is that you at the door?”

Sam’s stomach dropped at the sound. He could hear the panic in your voice, and he knew the door was no longer just a symbol of safety—it was a threat now.

“No, don’t open the door, (Y/N),” Sam yelled into the phone, his voice filled with panic. “Stay away from the door, alright? Don’t let anyone in!”

You could barely process his words, the terror drowning you. “It’s... it’s not you, Sammy... It’s not you... Someone’s trying to get in...”

The door rattled again, and this time, it sounded even more forceful. The fear was rising, thick and suffocating, like a cold hand closing around your throat. “No, no, no... I can’t... I can’t stop them...”

Sam shouted, his voice almost breaking, “we’re almost there, (Y/N), we’re coming!”

Another loud bang came at the door, the sound sharp and menacing, and your blood ran cold. Your eyes darted to the door, fear overtaking every inch of you.

“Stay on the phone!” Sam was shouting now, but the fear in your voice drowned out everything. “We’re coming, we’re almost there!”

Your body trembled violently, your knees buckling, and you fell against the wall as your thoughts scattered. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop the terror from overtaking you. You wanted to be brave, you wanted to fight, but you couldn’t.

“I can’t... I can’t...” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“I’m with you, (Y/N),” Sam’s voice came through, shaky but full of determination. “We’re almost there. Just stay with me, alright? Just stay awake, stay alert.”

Your eyes were starting to close, the weight of exhaustion pressing on your eyelids. But you couldn't let it happen. You couldn’t.

The banging continued, louder now, but through it, you clung to Sam’s voice, the only thing grounding you. You were barely hanging on and as you whispered one last plea for them to hurry, the door rattled again, louder now, the metal handle shaking as whoever was on the other side tried again. It sounded like they were getting closer, breaking through the frame with each hit. They were coming in.

“NO!” You screamed, struggling to pull yourself up from the cold floor, your hands shaking as you tried to steady yourself. The room spun even harder, your body swaying, vision blurring.

Then, with a final crash, the door gave way. The lock snapped, and the door swung open with a jarring screech, revealing the silhouette of a man standing in the doorway. A stranger, tall and looming, his face partially obscured by shadows. His footsteps echoed loudly in the small, tiled room as he took a step forward, eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger. The fear in your chest exploded into pure, raw terror.

“No, no, no!” you whimpered, backing up against the wall as he stepped closer, your breath coming in shallow, frantic gasps. “Please... please... don’t! Please...”

Your words slurred, each one harder to get out, as the drug in your system weighed you down. You could feel the darkness pressing in on the edges of your vision, your mind trying to shut off, but the terror was still there, an open wound in your chest. You tried to scream, tried to get up, but you were too weak.

“Shhh... It’s okay,” the man cooed, his voice a low, mocking whisper as he took another step forward, his eyes gleaming with a sick amusement. “You don’t need to be scared...“

The words hit you like a slap to the face. Your brain barely registered the cruelty of it as he approached, his shadow casting over you like a weight you couldn’t escape.

“No... No... please...” You begged, your voice barely above a whisper, your body trembling uncontrollably. Your hand flailed around the bathroom floor, searching for something, anything to defend yourself with, but your fingers couldn’t grip anything. Every time you tried to move, you felt weaker, your body refusing to obey your commands.

The man grinned, a cruel smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “No one’s going to save you, sweetheart. You’re mine now. Just let go, it’ll be over soon.”

You couldn’t breathe, your chest tight as the fear suffocated you. You could feel the blackness creeping in again, and you knew—if you let go, if you passed out... he would have you. You wouldn’t be able to defend yourself, to scream, to fight. Your limbs were too heavy, and all you could do was whimper.

“No! No, please!” You choked out, unable to move. The door had fallen open behind him, the sound of your brothers’ desperate voices rang through the air and with everything you had left, you screamed, as if your voice could somehow reach your brothers, stop him from getting any closer. But it was a weak cry, shaky and broken, too afraid to even believe it would be enough.

“Get the fuck off of her!”

Dean’s voice, filled with fury and rage, cut through the room like a sword.

In an instant, Dean was on him, shoving the man away from you with a brutal force that sent him stumbling backward. Your body, still weak and trembling from the drugs, barely reacted, but Dean's presence was enough to anchor you to the reality of the situation.

"I’ll fucking kill you!" Dean growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. He charged, fists flying as the man tried to regain his balance. The sound of bones hitting flesh was unmistakable—loud, sickening, and filled with the fury that only Dean Winchester could channel when someone dared threaten his family.

Suddenly, Sam’s familiar face came into view, his expression tight with worry. “Hey, hey, hey,” he said, his voice gentle but urgent, like he was trying to anchor you to the here and now. His hands, warm and steady, cradled your face, lifting it slightly so he could meet your gaze, his thumb lightly brushing over your skin as if to remind you he was there. His eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of the haze that the drugs might’ve left behind, any sign that your focus was slipping away from him. "You're okay. You're safe, I promise. I’m right here with you, okay? We’ve got you. We won’t let anything happen to you."

His words were steady and warm, like a lifeline, but your body was betraying you. The drug had sunk deep into your system, and it was wreaking havoc in every muscle, every nerve, sending waves of strange sensations through you. Your chest tightened, and it felt like there was a weight pressing down on your lungs. You couldn’t breathe deep enough, and each shallow gasp only made it worse. Every breath you tried to take felt like it was being stolen from you. Your hands—your fingers—felt stiff and unresponsive, curling on their own, twitching with spasms.

“Sam...” you barely whispered, but your voice was weak, trembling, like it wasn’t your own. “I feel so weird…”

“I know, (Y/N), I know.” Sam said, his voice thick with emotion but full of that calm authority that only made you trust him more. His large hands were on your arms, trying to hold you steady, to remind you that you were here, you were real, you were safe. But your body wouldn’t stop jerking, twitching violently, like the drug was seizing control of your muscles. Your back arched involuntarily, and a choked sob bubbled in your throat.

The panic set in deeper. Your arms and legs felt like they belonged to someone else—heavy, uncooperative. You tried to move, but your body refused. The dizziness spun in your head, and the world around you was a blur. You felt like you were drowning in it. “Sam... Sam, I can’t...”

His grip tightened on you, anchoring you to him, and you could feel his breath close to your ear, his voice softer now but no less urgent. “Listen to me, (Y/N). I’m right here. I need you to stay with me. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. The drug... it’s coursing through you right now, your body’s trying to fight it, alright? Stay with me. Stay awake.”

His voice cracked with raw emotion, but it didn’t waver. He was so present, so solid in this moment, even as your body continued to react violently. You jerked again, the spasms making you gasp for air as you felt like your muscles were locking into place. You didn’t have control over your own body. The feeling of being completely out of control overwhelmed you. You could feel your head spinning, your vision blurring more with each second, and that constant pressure on your chest that made it harder and harder to stay conscious.

“Just breathe with me, (Y/N),” Sam said, his voice steady, but his hands shook slightly as they gripped you. His hand moved to your back, rubbing it slowly, trying to comfort you through the chaos, but your body was betraying you in every way imaginable. The drug was taking hold, seizing control of your senses, your thoughts—your every nerve. You could feel it as your heart raced, pounding violently in your chest, like it was trying to break free from your ribcage. Sweat was pouring down your face, your skin slick and clammy, and your limbs felt like they were no longer your own—jerking and twitching uncontrollably.

You wanted to scream, wanted to beg Sam to make it stop, but your mouth wouldn’t work. It wouldn’t obey, wouldn’t form the words. Your chest heaved with each shallow breath, but it wasn’t enough, wasn’t enough to pull you from the panic. Every time you tried to breathe, the air felt too thick, too far away. Your vision blurred, and the edges of the room warped and wavered.

And Sam… Sam could see it all in your eyes. The terror. He saw you struggling, saw the panic flashing in your gaze, and it crushed him. You could hear the sound of Sam’s voice rising, frustration and fear mixing in with his calm words. “What the hell did you give her?!” He suddenly screamed, his voice cutting through the room, filled with a ferocity that made you feel like it was cutting through the air itself.

He wasn’t just speaking to you anymore. The sound of his fury—his absolute protective rage—was directed at the man who had done this to you. You could feel it in the tension in his grip, in the way his hands clenched around you, holding you like you were the most important thing in the world.

But despite Sam’s rage, he never broke his focus on you. He didn’t leave you, not for a second. “Okay,” Sam said, taking a breath as if to calm himself. “Okay. I know you’re scared, I know. I need you to focus on me, alright?” Sam continued, his voice now a little softer again as his thumb stroked across your cheek, trying to soothe you through the convulsions rattling your body. “Your heart’s racing, I know. That’s the drug. That tightness in your chest? It’s normal right now. Your body’s in shock. It’s trying to fight the drug’s effects, but you’re going to be okay, trust me.”

The sensation of weightlessness was threatening to pull you under, and your body jerked again, making you gasp for air. But Sam was right there. His hands moved to your face, cupping your cheeks gently but with purpose, forcing you to look at him, to focus on him, despite how blurry everything seemed.

"Don’t you dare close your eyes, okay?"

Your chest felt like it was about to explode, the spasms were making you writhe in his arms, but Sam stayed with you—his voice still a tether in the madness, guiding you through each second. Even through his own anger, his pain, his desperation—he was there for you, unwavering.

The sound of Dean’s voice in the background seemed muffled now, lost in the whirlwind of sensations, but Sam’s presence was constant.

He didn’t wait for you to reply—didn’t need to. He could see the way you were struggling just to breathe, could see the fear and confusion in your eyes. You were scared, but you didn’t need words to tell him that. His voice didn’t falter once as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and helped you stand. Your legs were unsteady, like they weren’t yours anymore, but he held you up—held you close as he guided you toward the door.

“Come on, I’ve got you,” Sam murmured, his arm supporting you as you stumbled forward. The world outside was a blur, the lights of the bar flashing in your peripheral vision. Your body was shaking with each step, still fighting against the drug, but Sam was there. Always there.

As soon as the cold night air hit your skin, the nausea hit you like a freight train. Your stomach twisted violently, and before you could do anything, the pressure built up—too fast, too strong—and you dropped to your knees, your body convulsing with a wave of sickness.

“Let it out,” Sam said immediately, his voice firm but full of empathy, the knowledge of what was happening to you clear in every word. “It’s okay, just let it out, (Y/N). You’re okay. Your body’s fighting the drug. You’re fighting it, alright? Just breathe. Let it out. You’re gonna feel better. I promise.”

Your body lurched forward as you threw up, everything inside you coming up in violent waves. You felt weak—so weak—your hands barely able to hold yourself up as your body continued to heave. The dizziness was making everything spin, but Sam was right there, his hand on your back, steadying you. His voice was a constant hum in the background, soothing, telling you that it was okay, that you were okay.

“That’s it, just let it out,” Sam said again, his hand still pressing gently on your back, keeping you grounded, keeping you steady as you threw up, as your body trembled violently. He was talking to you like he knew exactly what you needed, guiding you through the worst of it. “You’re okay, you’re okay, just keep breathing. Your body’s doing what it needs to. You’re okay.”

You didn’t know how long it lasted, but your strength was drained, your energy zapped, and your body finally stopped heaving, leaving you weak and trembling on the cold pavement. You were on your hands and knees, and the nausea still clung to you, but Sam didn’t let go—not even for a second.

And just as you started to collapse, your body exhausted from everything, Sam’s hands were there. He caught you effortlessly, pulling you into his chest as you slumped, your head falling against his shoulder.

“I got you,” Sam whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re alright. You’re alright, (Y/N). I’ve got you.”

His arms wrapped around you, holding you up, keeping you from crumpling to the ground. You could feel his warmth, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you, and even though you still felt weak, you weren’t alone.

“Breathe, just breathe,” he murmured, his voice soft now, a gentle comfort that you clung to. “You’re gonna make it through this. I’m right here. We’re gonna get you through it.” He kept you safe, kept you calm, as Dean took care of the man that attempted to do the worse to you.

His punches were swift and relentless, each one more vicious than the last. The man staggered back, but Dean wasn’t about to give him a chance to recover. With a final, savage swing, he sent the man crashing into the bathroom sink, the impact rattling the entire room.

Dean’s voice, sharp and full of anger as he finished dealing with the man who had dared to hurt you. “You don't even know how lucky you are that I don't have more time," he growled. "Stay down, or you won’t get up again." The stranger groaned, blood dripping from his busted lip, but he wasn’t getting back up—not for a while.

Dean didn’t even look at the man as he stepped over him, walking out of the bathroom and out of the bar. His face softened just a fraction as he saw you trembling in Sam’s arms, his voice turning gentle despite the fire still burning in his eyes. “(Y/N), hey... It’s Dean. We’re getting you out of here. Just hold on for me, alright?”

You could barely breathe, your body still too weak to function properly, but just hearing him calmed the chaos in your mind.

“Stay with us, okay? Stay with us, don’t fall asleep. We’re here. We won’t let anything happen to you.” He said as he rushed to open the car door while Sam held you up, but you could feel yourself slipping.

“No,” you whispered weakly, your hand gripping Sam’s jacket as you struggled to stay awake. “Don’t leave me alone.”

“We’re not leaving you,” Sam said, his voice steady and warm. “I’m right here, and so is Dean. We’re getting you to the car. Just breathe. You’re safe.”

The door slammed shut behind you as Sam climbed into the car, cradling your trembling form in his lap. Dean slid into the front seat, his knuckles white on the steering wheel as he started the engine.

“You’re safe, (Y/N),” Sam murmured, wiping away the tears that stained your cheeks. “We’ve got you. We’re not letting go. Not ever.”

You were fading, the world slipping away as the last of your strength drained from you. But Sam was right there, holding you, comforting you.

“We’ve got you,” Dean added, his voice thick with emotion as he drove. “We’re not going anywhere.”

And even though you could barely hold on to consciousness, those words were enough. You weren't alone anymore. You had your brothers. And you would be safe.

[thinemoonshine]

𓆰𝓅𝑒𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓈 𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓊𝓇𝑒 ♡𓆪

cha hyun su x female reader genre: romance, slightly mature (suggestive themes) type: series (but can be read as a oneshot) word count: 1,921

part 2 of series ◄◄ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ part 4 of series

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ synopsis: after the old man, seok hyun, had turned into a complete monster and was killed by the hands of his own wife, the atmosphere in green home has grown more tense- more so towards the other known infected, cha hyun su. meanwhile, hyun su has his own battle to fight; that is against his monster and its persistent trials to break through its enclosure within hyun su. unfortunately for him, his monster's grown impatient for freedom- and (y/n) just so happens to be around ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

'It's annoying, isn't it? To hear me pester you all day and night like this. Why not just... let me free?' Cha Hyun Su's monster tempts him with a tune that it appears to be more of a mockery than it is persuasion.

The poor owner of the body clutches his bag tighter against his chest as he tries to sleep on the now unoccupied couch. He didn't want to lie on it- but if a better cushion will help him sleep faster and rid off the voice in his head then he'll take it.

He's curled like a hook, desperate for rest and cease the unending taunts. And gradually, he does get it thanks to the relentless missions Eunhyuk sends him on. Maybe it's because he got upset when he discovered that (y/n) tailed after Hyun Su on a mission once and the latter didn't bother to tell, or that the latest incident struck a nerve in Eunhyuk but recently, he's been more irritable.

Time passes and soon, it's morning once more. Hyun Su feels just slightly better than before after some forced sleep but it's better than nothing. Besides, the monster's quiet now.

"You can't."

He turns to the door at the faint sound of Eunhyuk's voice. Slowly, he approaches it before pausing when he sees him with (y/n) a few large steps away down the corridor leading towards him. Hyun Su sneakily presses himself against the wall and observes the pair as much as he can from his hidden angle.

"Why not?" (y/n) argues with an evident glare on her face.

Eunhyuk, with his arms crossed and unchanging expression, sighs. "Because you broke the rules. You weren't supposed to join on the mission."

"Yeah, but that's a mission. This is just to visit him in the quarantine room like I always do. Why is it suddenly a forbidden thing to do??" She retorts and crosses her arms, mimicking him as if it will shift the power between them.

But of course, it doesn't and Eunhyuk only furrows. Once again, irritated. "What if he changes when you're in there? What are you gonna do then?"

"I'll run out?? Besides, he's not going to change. He hasn't been getting nosebleeds and even if he does transform suddenly, he could be a non-violent monster like the old man," (y/n) tries to convince the other but obviously, he's got a barrier taller than The Great Wall of China.

"Theories are just theories," he says sternly before swiveling and walking down the corridor to the other direction.

(y/n) stabs daggers at his furthering back. "I'm breaking the lock."

"Have fun."

And he disappears into a room.

The girl sighs exasperatedly before slumping against the wall that faces the quarantine room. Of course she can't break the lock. If she does, everyone's just going to get more anxious and the bad image Hyun Su already has might turn worse.

She lifts his head up and is met with surprise at the sight of Hyun Su gripping onto the bars of the little rectangle opening at the top half of his metal door- dark, round eyes fixed onto her as his cheeks touch the cold cylinders he holds. "Hyun Su... What are you doing?"

Her gentle cadence and smile are vastly different from how she was with Eunhyuk. Clearly, she has a favourite. And Hyun Su loves knowing that.

"I'm...watching," Hyun Su answers slowly.

A small titter escapes her as she closes the distance between them. "That's creepy."

She now stands just a step away from the door as she looks up at him with a dispirited expression. "I don't think I can come in anymore. Eunhyuk's become more strict and he's using the people to back him up. All I can do is just accompany you from out here."

Hyun Su lets his eyes roam on her face and a small smile graces his own as he slowly lets go of the bar and reaches his hand out. (y/n)'s brows raise at the unforeseen behaviour from him and obviously, gives in.

Her hands rests onto his palm which he then curls, clasping hers in his and intertwining their fingers. The girl gulps, flustered and abashed at the sudden skinship, oblivious to his own feelings that can be seen from the red tips of his ears.

"It's okay. This is enough," is what he says and indulges in watching her trying to 'play it cool' by avoiding any eye contact and doing a subtle shuffle. She's adorable.

'She sure is,' a voice echoes inside and Hyun Su's quickly alert. 'Wah... What you feel for her is just so sweet, it's sickening.'

Hyun Su's fingers tighten ever so slightly around hers as he tries to push it away. 'Go away.'

'I can't. Unless you've forgotten, I'm inside your head,' the voice snickers and Hyun Su's heartbeat quickens from annoyance and yet, fear. It's not supposed to come out- not when he's with (y/n). 'And I'm getting awfully impatient.'

His words confuse Hyun Su. 'Impatient? Wha—'

And suddenly, everything turns pitch black.

The abrupt drop of his head causes his forehead to crash against the bars and (y/n) worries for his wellbeing.

"Hyun Su! What's wrong?" She gasps. "You haven't eaten today, have you? Let me get you something."

She turns to leave but the tight hold he has around her hand tugs her back and she nears the rectangular opening, still seeing him with his head down against it.

"No... Don't go..." He then, whimpers, and the fragility in his voice stirs her into a panic.

"Hyun Su," (y/n) softly says his name again and reaches her other hand between the bars- searching for his face to pull it up.

Her palm cups his cheek and he shudders at her touch. A small whisper of her name leaves him as she lifts his face up.

Her eyes flicker between his own closed ones, troubled at his unsolvable pain that causes him to react the way he is. "What's wrong?"

In contrary to her expectations however, Hyun Su nuzzles against her hand- rubbing his face against her palm before he presses his own hand on top.

"Hyun Su has such strong will... I could never," he says and despite using the same exact voice, he sounds too different from the Hyun Su she knows. But what even is she trying to say? Hyun Su isn't Hyun Su?

Everything's too puzzling- especially when he pulls her by the wrist, causing her to collide with the door and her face against the bars.

"Hyun Su, what are you do—"

"I'm lonely," he speaks pitifully and this more familiar tone of voice calms (y/n)'s nerves as she pulls away slightly to look at him who's still keeping her hand against his cheek. 'His eyes...'

"Look at me," she says.

Hyun Su tilts his head into her palm again- the sad, sympathetic expression now shifting to a cocky, devious smirk as his lids open to reveal his black eyes.

No gentle dark browns, just pure abyss.

"You caught me. I knew you wouldn't have wanted me if I were to show myself," monster Hyun Su chuckles and erases the gap between them, now face to face with her.

(y/n) scoffs after quickly concluding that this must be the monster inside Hyun Su. "Want you? Why would you even consider that?"

She yanks her hand back but is swiftly captured by his- now gripping it with more force which makes it impossible to budge.

"Because you want him," he confidently declares and (y/n) feels her heart skip a beat. 'He knows. How does he know?' "At least, that's what I observe... Not that this weakling would ever consider it."

"What do you mean?" Her curiosity gets the best of her. 'Hyun Su would never consider it? Why? Is it really one sided? All this time?'

She's unnerved. He can see it from her expression that's almost begging him to assuage her anxiety, the questions in her head. He grins as his head angles upwards slightly and gosh— (y/n) will be lying if she says she doesn't feel a flutter in her stomach.

"Calm down. He likes you too... maybe a little too much. He thinks he doesn't deserve you, thinks you're better off with someone 'normal' who won't threaten your life," the monster scoffs as if finding the whole thing hilarious. "And yet, just one touch from you and he's tingling all over- craving for more like you're his oasis in the desert."

(y/n) says nothing- no, can't say anything. She's rendered speechless by this sudden, shocking information that she's having a hard time believing. Never once did Hyun Su ask for her affection, and even if he does reach out to her, it'll be momentary; comes and goes in a blink.

An abrupt warmth on her hand makes her jump before seeing Hyun Su kissing it. He plants his lips on the back of her hands, her knuckles, her palm before sliding up her arm to her face- unlatching his other hand from the bar to hold her chin.

He smiles beguilingly as he watches her weigh the voices of her brain and heart, enjoying her panic. "This is what Hyun Su wants. What I'm doing... this is all by him. But I'll be lying if I said I'm not indulging myself either."

"He...wants this?" (y/n) echoes and she can almost hear her sense of rationality and logic shrieking at her for irresponsibly choosing to communicate with a monster.

"Oh, yes," he slurs as his tongue darts out to wet his lip and brings her face closer- his eyes shifting between hers before down at her lips and back up. "So, so much, it wrecks him inside. He feels secure with you, comfortable, happier than ever, but at the same time you taunt him so much with your sweetness that it's venomous. But I like you because of that. Makes it easier to tamper with his mind."

His confession fills (y/n) with dread. All this time... has she been only making things harder for Hyun Su? He's been on war with himself for so long- and she's only adding fire to it.

"Don't worry too much, though. Because without you, he would've been long..." Hyun Su trails off as his eyes trail to her mouth and his thumb brushes over her bottom lip. "Gone."

He pushes his finger in slightly, touching her tongue- making her bite down from surprise and a low groan escapes him at the pain. A pain much too good to actually hurt.

Monster Hyun Su smirks as a scoff sounds from him once more at her immediate retraction and he grips her chin to yank her close.

"You temptress," he hisses before his eyes roll back and eyelids shut. His figure limps and he crashes onto the cold floor of the quarantine room.

copyright © 2024 thinemoonshine all rights reserved

[surelynotaspider]

Gaining Interest

Al-Haitham x gn!reader

-> IN WHICH Al-Haitham realises he fucked up but you don't care anymore.

-> Wordcount: ~1,3k

Masterlist

Part 1

Al-Haitham left Kaveh's room as soon as the news sickered through. His roommate must have made a sick joke, yeah that's right. He's lying. You're still in Sumeru. You're still by his side. You wouldn't leave. Surely.

He kept telling himself the same lies and delusions for days and days without an end. He still set the table for two. Cooked for two. Made coffee in the morning for two. And all of that was not for Kaveh. But you never came back. Maybe you never will.

Al-Haitham's days turned monotone and lifeless. You're not there to cheer him up and his roommate keeps reminding him how he fucked up.

And to make things worse, every little thing reminds him of you.

The keys with the keychain that you made yourself for him on your first anniversary, saying it's nothing special but it's a reference to his favourite book that no one cares about.

Except you.

Another lonely day passed and Al-Haitham fell asleep only to experience the most restless sleep he will have in his entire life. With you by his side, that would never happen.

You woke up to the best sleep you had in your entire life. The bright sun shined through your window and the lively chatter from the locals outside of your home. Being away from Sumeru was like heaven on earth.

The atmosphere was completely different. Your previous lonely and cold days were filled with warmth and laughter. You now have a new, better life with friends, a good job and no one that gives no regard to your feelings. It lifted a huge load off your shoulders and you felt like you could finally breathe.

Saying that you didn't love Al-Haitham anymore is a lie and you know it. But you also know that it's okay and you're willing to move on. Turn the page and start a chapter life.

Without him.

After a month, Al-Haitham couldn't handle it anymore. He needed you back. He worked night and day to take enough time off to meet you. He has to convince you to come back.

Quickly checking if he had packed everything, he left his house. It's been so long since he took time off for vacation or spending time with his loved ones.

The journey to Liyue flew by fast. To say Al-Haitham was nervous was an understatement. He was anxious, indecisive and always on the edge. His knee was always moving up and down, and his hands were constantly brushing through his hair and what's even worse, he didn't know what to say to you.

An apology is a given. How can he not? But what's next? A declaration of love? Empty Promises? He doesn't know. This situation is completely new to him. You're his first and last girlfriend.

Al-Haitham is a genius. He graduated at the top of his class. His bookshelf is filled with books of all kinds of knowledge. From botanics to physics to cooking. He has it all. Christ, he's the Acting Grand Sage. Currently the highest position in Sumeru.

He can speak 20 languages, and love is not one of them.

Al-Haitham's heart almost stopped when he spotted you.

You were sitting with your new friends and you were laughing. He hasn't heard that sound in so long. He can't even remember when he last did.

Oh, is that how much he neglected you? When was the last time your eyes were shining so bright? When did you last laugh with him? What about a smile? He can't remember. He can't remember. How can he not remember?

Why is it that he can recall every type of poisonous plant and every so slight weakness of monsters, but as soon as it's about you everything is blank?

How much did you have to suffer for you to finally leave? It's a miracle you stayed as long as you did.

Hours passed and he did not move from his spot. He has been waiting for you to stand up and say your goodbyes. Not in a creepy way, no. He just wanted to talk to you as soon as possible.

Which was right now.

"[Name]."

You stopped in your tracks. Your eyes widened. Why was he here? Did you forget something at his house? Did you owe him some money? No, that can't be.

Your brain was trying to come up with reasons why he was here but with no luck.

You took a deep breath and turned around.

"What are you doing here?" Your mood was the complete opposite of when you were with your friends. You kept your distance and your gaze was filled with coldness, not the usual happiness when you were with him.

"I wanted to apologise.

"I apologise for what I did. No words can express how guilty I feel for ignoring and neglecting you for months without an end.

"Work has kept me too busy to even notice how you're feeling. I prioritised it over our relationship and it pains me to realise it only now. I know that's no excuse, but I hope you can forgive me, [Name]."

"Al-Haitham." You looked him in the eyes. "You're the Acting Grand Sage. Nothing will change and we both know it." He looked nervous, playing with his keychains. "I will do better, I promise! I will be home for dinner. I will not miss any more dates or anniversaries and I will take time off to spend time with you monthly- no, weekly!"

"I'm sorry, but I can't go back. I have new friends here. I'm happy."

He still wasn't letting it go. "But you said you're only staying for 6 months-" "They offered me a permanent position." You interrupted him. "I accepted."

Silence followed. Your inner conflict is fought between keeping it or saying something.

It died down as soon as Al-Haitham started to talk again.

"I need you." He finally said and you've never seen him so devastated and conflicted than now. The Al-Haitham you knew was rational and always prepared. Never desperate, never needy.

However, the Al-Haitham in front of you was the complete opposite. The desperation was clearly written in his eyes. His body never stood still, showing you he was anxious, awaiting your response.

You were contemplating whether to go back or not. You knew you would never be truly happy by his side. Maybe that's why you felt so guilty for saying the next two words.

"I don't."

The sound of a door closing filled the house. Back in Sumeru, he is.

Without you.

Al-Haitham looked defeated. He knows he can't convince you no matter what he says and it hurts. It hurts so much. Knowing that you were right in front of him but yet miles away made his heart painfully ache.

He always thought of himself as a rational, unwavering man. His emotions never get the best of him. Anger, tears and frustration were useless and unnecessary to him. Why cry if you can figure out a solution to the problem?

Oh, but what if you can't find a solution to the problem? What's the next step? What were you supposed to do now? He didn't know, so he cried, probably for the first time in years. Ugly, hot tears ran down his face and he didn't even care to wipe them away.

He deserved it for what he's done to you and it will haunt him in his dreams for years if not forever. Words cannot express his regrets and remorse and actions can't either. He swore to himself to never let this happen again. Next time he will not put work above you. Next time he will listen to every little thing you say. Whether it's about your new hobby or the bug you saw on your way home. And next time he will appreciate your presence so much more.

But deep in his subconsciousness, he knew.

There will never be a next time.

Fin

Not proofread

Tag List:

@the-real-fandom-person @xiaosonlybeloved

[takeachillpillshawty]

Things I need to see in more\ want to happen twst fanfics

Vil living as Vil Schoenhiet the student at NRC and not THE Vil Schoenhiet model, actor, and influencer.

Kalim angst. I love him but sometimes I love seeing my babygurl suffer, and not Jamil betraying him angst. No, I want him to question his self worth as a dorm leader in general, I want him to be on edge at the thought of an assassin at school, I want him to worry about the people he befriends knowing that getting involved with him will put their lives in danger just like him.

Leona's hinted depression being discussed.

Jade finally being seen as the scarier twin than Floyd, I don't care Jade lovers your mans is scaring away the hoes.

Yuu\ Prefect \ YN adjusting to the world or Twisted Wonderland... Literally, getting used to the oxygen, atmosphere, eating fruits or food that doesn't exist in their world, so on and so on.

Riddle being a kid.

Vil enjoying his flaws and accept that there are people who genuinely love him even if he isn't the fairest one of all.

Trein and Riddle having father son moments.

Jamil realizing that his parents played a bigger role of his hatred for Kalim, and that it was possible for he and Kalim to be friends after all.

Silver and Sebek being brothers. Yes, I see them as brothers Silbek shippers don't come at me.

Ortho being creepy as fuck, like as in uncanny valley creepy. I know with my full heart that is Ortho was real he'd give major uncanny valley effect. I love him, he's still my son.

Lilia going through the grief of losing Meleanor.

Grim and Prefect some how fusing together into one being, A being able to do magic and be accepted as a student.

Kalim being unhinged, like feral. Not in the sugar rush kind of way, like giving a 5 year old the power of God kind of unhinged.

Cater, Kalim and Lilia all just collectively crying together to let all the stress, frustration, anger and sadness out. They usually do this during club hours.

N I E G E L E B L A N C H E.

[chocol4tte]

Lately I've been dwalling into the Batfam fandom again, even obsesing more in a fic that I've been writing in my notebooks since 2018, but that's for another moment.

I don't usually read too many comics, and tbf, there are a lot and the timelines are a fucking nightmare, I do plan, however, in reading DCceased (?), I love the man that Damian became growing up, and sadly I spoiled myself with the ending, suffice to say, it will be heart-breaking.

Anyway, as I was reading some batfam fics, especially this one: Who tells a tale of unspeaking death? who will brave this bitter grief? by an orphan account, I absolutley loved it and I love Damian so much, so I wondered how things would've been if:

When Jon left to space with his grandfather to space, Damian was not supportive at first with that idea, as he was receiving some weird vibes from the whole situation with Jon's grandfather... and kind of Personal experience in a way.

Jon decided to ignore him and say that it will be fine, he needs and wants to learn more about his kryptonian side with his grandfather, Jon and Damian leave with a bitter taste of hteir friendship but, well, may Damian can do other things in the meantime then.

Damian decided to take the time for the Year of Blood penance and meets Maya and Suren; it happens like canon, except, Damian remains dead, things didn't work out and with Dick now being Ric, the family mourns the youngest and now they cannot resurrect him. They simply won't, against their wish, need to mourn and accept death.

In just a matter of a two weeks, the Batfamily are receiving the support they need, baby steps, however when Clark lears of the situation he is at the terrible position of notifying his son of his best friend's death. Its already heart breaking seeing his friend's grief over a child no older than 14... Clark is preparing with Lois to deliver the notice.

Its not until some week that Jon returns now almost 6 years older as a 17 teenager, with the determination of going home and speak with his family and best friend Damian, thinking how in response he will tell him an "I told you he was creepy af." and maybe, maybe go back with their friend shenanigans, save the cities and have more adventures... telling him a bout the people he met and the animals he saw in different worlds! Hopefully those 6 years haven't changed his friend much...

When he meets his dad, Jon has a heartfelt reunion with his parents, explains what happened as the years went by and the intergalactic heroes and community he met in his journey back home, and how Damian was correct about his grandfather and wishes to see how his friend has grown up!

Clark soon stops Jon from continue talking about meeting Damian very quickly, the atmosphere becomes akward after that and it's Lois who breaks the news to Jon, he has been out in space for weeks in the first place, not years, and even if he wants to see his friend, well... Lois doesn't get the words out of her mouth. She thought she could do it, but the words died in her mouth.

Jon is atonished, is that the reason why his mom and dad stayed so unchanged after 6 years? It was just weeks? He doesn't know what to think of it, until he just flies away from his parents without much of a thought but his heart beating faster and faster as he flies to a different direction and notices that everything is still the same, it dawns on him as he passes by multiple buildings he and his dad used to fly over years weeks ago ... how he was robbed of his childhood. Robbed!

Its not until dusk was setting that he realized he was flying directly towards Gotham City, he needed to speak with his best friend, unaware that his father was flying right behind him trying to stop him.

He wasn't fast enough, Jon is already knocking at the Wayne mansion and almost takes the doors down when there was no response.

Jon is taken aback by Alfred's appearence, he looked older, like he would supposed to look after some time, this already made him a little sick in the stomach, he knew grief, he saw it in his missions in space.

Alfred doesn't recognize Jon, not very much until he sees the Superman symbol in his chest, followed by the very same Superman behind him, apologizing to him and quickly explaining that Jon came back and they had a situation. Clark was planning on taking Jon away from the Wayne mansion until Jon asks where is Damian.

There is no response other than a slight flinch that doesn´t go unnoticed. Jon is insisting where his friend is, and cue Bruce, barely groomed and looking like someone has taken 30 years from him, he is a little surprise by Jon's presence, but when he is asked where Damian is for the third time, he just looks at a defeated and nervous Clark behind him and just... looks at him, either deciding what to do, if lcosing the door and ignoring a teenage boy who will most likely demand answers from him, but thankfully Tim and Jason arrive as well by seeing the conmmotion downstairs and they take it from there.

Jason tries to make small talk in the way, babling about a growth spurt or some cryptonain genes, ignoring that Jon aged faster in space, Clark is trying to explain the situation as well, following both vigilantes to a garden a little further from the mansion.

Tim and Jon are silent all the way, until they see Titus and Alfred the cat in a distance, Tim began talking about Damian going for a redemption journey from a mission he had years before where he had taken multiple lives in just one year, how he met the daugther of one of Damian's victims and the heir of an old Al' Ghul enemy who ended up befriending. They were silently listening to Tim until they stopped at a headstone, where it read in clear letters Damian's name, his birth date... and death date, plus a message and Robin Symbol.

Jon felt as if he was in space but falling into the Void. It was a lie. It has to be. He looked at his dad, saying that it was a cruel joke, but stopped himself from saying it out loud when Clark is looking away, from him and the tombstone.

Anyway, i haven't really given a thought to this, mostly I would love to read this scenario and Jon asking why they aren't bringing Damian back, and when he is being told that no, Damian will continue resting in peace, Jon would be devastated, at first angry... but later on crying on how if he had stayed, his dear friend would be alive and having a future... how he didn't say a proper goodby to Damian and their last interaction was a fight.

Just like Damian's family, all that is left are memories and regrets, something they'll carry for the rest of their lives. :)

[antlergrave]

i don't think i posted this here yet have i

this is kind of like concept art of the EMH analog horror/cursed game website thing i was thinking about doing a few months ago lol

not all things shown below are final. things will still change

the style of the atmosphere will be kind of inspired by VibingLeaf, The Walten Files, and those creepy 2000s games we all used to play back then. If you've watched any of those videos or played those games, you can kinda see where im going from there.

I wanna make this as unnerving and creepy as I can. I'm not going easy on y'all

I was also thinking of breaking the videos up into separate "gameplays" instead of one full long video where the protagonist (you) investigates what's going on in the website and documenting the stuff happening in the games.

In this AU, you, the protagonist, used to love watching EMH fitness videos back in your early teen years (the trio makes it big and become well-known fitness instructors that they make their very own website where fans can play their games lol)

The EMH trio mysteriously left the internet without a trace in the mid 2010s and nobody knew what happened to them. A few years have past, you are now a young adult and the EMH trio's whereabouts still remain unknown. You decide to revisit their old website to (hopefully) find anything that may be useful evidence to their disappearance, but got distracted by what seems to be a virus infecting the site.

^^ not complete yet. i'll work on it💀

These will NOT be playable to the public (im sorry😭) they will only be programmed to tell the story. they're basically mock games that only lead to one ending, showcasing all the glitches and viruses happening.

If you guys have any advice/recommendations etc. on good programing sites and all that stuff, feel free to tell me. I'd love to hear it :))

[gingeralecranberry]

CHAPTER 2

𝟐-𝟐 ; 𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲

SHREDS, SHREDS, SHREDS

☺︎ cw:

death of a family member, mentions of death, death rituals, cremation, bones, mentions of bones, basement of the crematorium, sukuna's finger, gojo fucking satoru, fushiguro is still an edgy teen, still going to add the ooc warning cause I'd rather be safe than sorry even if I am ripping the dialogue straight from the english subtitles, thukuna the king of curtheth, reader has strong paternal insticts, i think that's it

The air was crisp, sun hanging high in the sky with just enough fluffy white clouds to look like a painting. For having so much doom and gloom locked inside, the tall glass building was surrounded on all sides with quiet, natural serenity.

The leaves overhead swayed gently with the breeze, allowing the two visitors to bask in the canopy's shade. Sitting on an ornately chiseled stone bench, the only sounds brushing past the pink-haired teen's ears were the distant calling of a gaggle of sparrows.

Having to visit the crematorium was never fun, but at least the scenery didn't make it unbearable.

"Who passed away?"

Gojo looked practically identical to the day before. Black gakuran and slacks, creepy blindfold, unruly white hair, and a somewhat bored smile.

Yuji couldn't exactly say anything, though. He's probably be wearing the same thing as yesterday if his clothes hadn't been ripped up. Hastily pulled over an ill-fitting pair of shorts and oversized t-shirt, Itadori was wearing a new emerald green zip-up hoodie.

"My grandpa, although he was more like a father to me."

There was a small, content smile on his face as he watched a couple ducks squabble over some fish food in a nearby pond.

"I see... sorry it happened at a time like this."

Offering his condolences, his masked eyes followed Itadori's gaze. Though, his focus drifted over to a third, unassuming duck in the process of stealing the fish food right underneath the squabbling birds' noses. His own smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Out of respect for the teenager's mourning, he let the sounds of the environment hang for a little bit longer.

"...So, have you decided what you want to do?"

"..."

Yuji's smile drooped, eyes still trained on the little window in the bushes. He didn't want to think about anything, if he was being honest. His mind was still spinning with all the sudden changes. Eventually though, he posed a single question.

"Are casualties like these from curses pretty common?"

Gojo hummed, resting his hand on his stony, grey seat. "This one was a rather exceptional case, but in terms of damage, it happens all the time."

"..."

Gojo drummed his fingers on the bench, waiting to see if there would be any response from the 15-year-old.

"..."

When he remained silent, the sorcerer cleared his throat. Another second passed. He opened his mouth to speak, but he hesitated for a second to contemplate his wording.

"It's a good night when someone dies a normal death after encountering a curse. Finding a body all torn apart is on the better end of the outcomes," the teacher tapped three bench a couple times, "If you plan to hunt down Sukuna, you're going to witness some gruesome scenes and I can't guarantee you won't end up like that yourself."

"..."

Gojo took a deep breath before pushing himself up to stand.

"So pick your poison."

"..."

Descending into the depths of the crypt-like basement of the crematorium, he hardly registered the bland, earthy, green-grey walls passing by as he and Gojo trailed behind the nice receptionist.

He kept replaying the sorcerer's words in his head, scattered, half-baked thoughts swimming around his cranium like fish in a bowl.

"You're a strong kid, so help others."

Then there was the issue of his grandfather's dying wish.

He cursed in his head as he entered the room.

Going on autopilot, he let his body carry him through the motions while tending to his grandpa's ashes. The atmosphere was thick and dusty, forced to remain stagnant by the oppressive tension, only interrupted by the occasional clinking of utensil on bone. Satoru Gojo observed silently, keeping a respectful distance.

Another piece of bone falls into the urn.

"If all parts of Sukuna were gone, would there be fewer people harmed by curses?"

Another piece.

"Of course."

A third.

"..."

He laid the last piece of bone in its eternal resting place, setting his tools aside. Carefully, as if handling a shard of the heavens themselves, Itadori lowered the porcelain lid on the cool grey urn.

"...do you still have that finger?"

Gojo couldn't keep the smile from creeping up the bottom half of his face. Slowly, his hand trailed to his pocket, digging around for a moment. he stepped closer to Itadori, offering him the cursed object.

Once again, examining the death and decay blotted all over its skin, he felt his nose crinkle and his face twist with disgust.

"Looking at it again, it's pretty disgusting."

Despite feeling the bile rushing up from the pit of his stomach at the mere thought he'd eaten something identical already, he threw the finger down the hatch. He nearly choked on it, but he clamped a hand over his mouth to ensure it would go down.

'...Well, that's the second one.'

Gojo watched, captivated by the black markings popping up all over Yuji's skin.

'One tenth of the whole... what's going to happen?'

Itadori could feel a cold sweat drip down the back of his neck, throat spasming as it attempted to reject the finger. he swallowed again, shivering at the feeling of the sharp black nail scraping his esophagus on the way down. His knees buckled as he clawed at the wall next to him for stability. He did his best to swallow again despite the room starting to spin. He shook his head, clutching his chest.

"Blegh! Gross!" he stuck his tongue out, "So gross it's funny!"

Gojo's grin grew wide, watching Sukuna's signature tattoos vanish.

'That settles it.'

The sorcerer watched the highschooler cringe at the aftertaste, none the wiser to any of the thoughts swirling in the teacher's head.

'It's not just a physical tolerance, he can control himself against Sukuna without issue.'

His Six Eyes raked over the teen, looking for any kind of internal struggle... but he couldn't find any. The King of Curses lay dormant, his oppressive malice blanketed by the boy's radiant optimism.

'...we haven't seen talent like that in a thousand years.'

Getting over the soapy chemical taste of the disgusting cursed flesh, Itadori's eyes eventually hovered over to the man observing him in eerie silence. He cocked his head to the side, "something wrong?"

Gojo blinked underneath his blindfold, forced to focus back in on the conversation. He shook his head, "Oh, it's nothing." He shoved his hands into his pockets. Notably, they felt a lot emptier. "I take it this means you've stilled your resolve?"

"Not at all," the boy stared at his open palm, "I'm still wondering why I have to be executed."

The teacher hummed thoughtfully.

"But," Yuji squeezed his open hand into a fist, "I can't just do nothing about the curse. That last request is going to a be a pain in the ass..." He tore his eyes away from his clenched fingers, staring into the fabric he guessed the sorcerer's eyes would've been,

"I'll eat every part of Sukuna, I don't care what happens from there. I've already decided how I'm going to die."

Gojo bristled, energy renewed near instantaneously, "Nice! I like people like you!" He pivoted on his foot, going back to the huge, cold steel door, "Sounds like a fun hell awaits! Make sure you're packed by the end of the day."

The pink-haired vessel trailed behind him, quirking a brow, "Are we going somewhere?"

The sorcerer pushed the door to the side, both suddenly surprised by the presence of a familiar face.

"Tokyo."

Covered basically head-to-toe in scratches, bruises, and scrapes, Fushiguro, in all his banged up and bandaged glory, stood just outside the door.

"Fushiguro!" Itadori gave an energized thumbs-up, "Looking good!"

The older teenager narrowed his eyes, seemingly irritated. "Really? You think so after seeing this?"

Gojo hummed, "Y'know he's kind of right. You look better than I thought you would..." he put a hand under his chin, leaning in close to Megumi's face. In something similar to a teasing reprimand, he questioned him, "Megumi... what did you do?"

The student rolled his eyes, "(surname) used his technique to speed up the healing process."

The white-haired sorcerer clasped his hands together in front of his chest, "That's just like Sensei, always so reliable!" He tilted his head to the side to peer past Fushiguro's shoulder, "Speaking of Sensei, where is he?"

Megumi sighed, "he already headed back to Jujutsu Tech to fill the elders in on the current situation."

The teacher's face dropped, excitement replaced by crushing heartbreak, "And he didn't stop to say goodbye?!"

His student grimaced in response to the loud noise, "Stop being dramatic, we'll meet up with him again tomorrow."

"Oh yeah!"

"We?" Itadori blinked owlishly.

Fushiguro nodded, "You're going to transfer to the same school for Jujutsu sorcerers I attend."

Seemingly having completely forgotten any and all previous transfressions, Gojo sprang up, "Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu Technical High School!"

Megumi took the sudden change in stride, long having adapted to the ebbing and surging tides that were Satoru Gojo's mood. Yuji, on the other hand, couldn't say the same.

Just as gleefully, the teacher added, "By the way, you're the third first year!"

Yuji's jaw dropped.

"Only three?!"

The foothills of Mount Mushiro were extensive. The red clay bricks clearly highlighted the walkway cutting through the endless sea of green trees. The steps weren't completely even, but with each Tori gate Itadori and Gojo passed under, the boy's blindfolded chaperone could only feel more and more excitement and anticipation roll off the first year in waves. The childlike wonder was a welcome change of pace from most new students though. Unusually, they'd be complaining about the hike.

"This is really deep in the mountains! Is this actually Tokyo?"

Not Yuji, though.

He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet with each step, eager hands clasping the straps of his backpack tightly. Bright Amber eyes darted around the forested path to peer behind the shrubbery and get lost amongst the trees. It was amusing, to Gojo, at least.

"Even Tokyo's like this on the outskirts."

The teenager nodded wordlessly, eyes still trained on the forest all but swallowing the little brick road whole. Having lived a lonely life in Sendai devoid of travel, Yuji soaked in every new sight like a sponge. The path was monotonous, the trees looked the same in every direction, and the tall, ornate Tori gates were basically invisible between the shade and leaves. But even then, Yuji took everything in with a twinkle in his eye. You'd think if he stopped paying attention, it would disappear before his very eyes.

If only he had someone to enjoy the scenery with...

He snapped out of his temporary stupor, a frown materializing on his face as he faced the man he was walking with, "Where's Fushiguro?"

It seemed that Itadori did actually miss something when he's stopped paying attention; something pretty major. Since he was staring up at the trees, inspecting little fallen leaves, counting any hills, etc... he failed to notice that they were fast approaching the school.

The rumble of a familiar, if not a little tired, voice answered him. "I picked him up yesterday, he got properly patched up and he's back in his dorm resting."

Gojo immediately perked up, eyes flicking from his student over to the voice, "Sensei! Shoko told me you were already off on another mission."

From the grand entrance of the protective school walls, (name) waved a quick greeting, "Plans change. I'll be hanging around the school for a couple weeks." The older sorcerer turned back to the teen, "It's nice to see you again, Itadori."

The boy blinked before immediately dropping into a stiff 90 degree bow, "It's great to see you again, Sensei!"

"Oh," the man hummed, giving a strained smile, "You don't need to call me that, I'm not a teacher."

Yuji picked up his head, an expression not dissimilar to a befuddled puppy stretched across his face, "Huh? But if you're not a teacher, why would you be at a school?"

(name) opened his mouth to answer, but his voice was drowned out by Gojo's, "Sorcerer Lesson No. 1, listen carefully!" The white-haired man removed his hand from its designated pocket, raising a finger, "Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu Technical High School is one of only two jujutsu educational facilities. On the surface, its a private religious school, but a lot of jujutsu sorcerers actually continue to use it as a base after graduation."

Itadori nodded along, "So... (surname)-sensei is just reporting back to base?"

"Precisely!" Gojo snapped his fingers, "The school's a pillar of the jujutsu community, not just in education, but for support and mediation in missions."

(name) gave a hum of approval, examining his nails, "Well, as much as I'd love for you to continue, if we don't head out soon, we're going to be late."

"Late?"

"..."

It felt like the air got a few degrees colder.

"..."

Gojo only had a millisecond to react before a deft hand smacked him upside the head with merciless force and a practiced precision.

He yelped, hand automatically flying to nurse the new welt.

"You didn't tell him?!"

Yuji gulped, "Didn't tell me what...?"

Gojo, still cradling the back of his noggin, gave an annoyingly nonchalant smile, "Surprise! You're about to have an interview with the principal!"

The former teacher went to smack him again, but his hand was caught in the younger man's infinity, "Take this seriously!"

"I am!" the blindfolded sorcerer bit back, "So stop embarrassing me in front of my students! I'm supposed to be their ultra reliable, super cool and mysterious sensei!"

"Excuse him," (name) rolled his eyes, retracted the offending hand as he turned his attention back to the extremely confused vessel. He sighed, offering an apologetic bow, "I'll take over any explanations from here on out." Gesturing for the teen to follow him, he began the journey to the principal's office.

"Wh- Sensei! Hey! Not cool! Super UNCOOL!"

His "Sensei" paid Satoru no mind, "The principal is in charge of admissions. He likes to personally interview any and all new entrants to make sure they're compatible with the program."

The boy nodded along, squeezing the handles of his backpack again while his attention wandered over to the surroundings.

All of the school buildings were constructed to be the splitting image of traditional Japanese architecture, specifically Buddhist Japanese architecture. The buildings and walls fencing in the school campus were a warm off-white, framed with this deep brown oaky wood. The stone shingles covering each roof, Tori gate, and fence were a deeper brown, teetering on black.

The temple-like structures towered over the entire mountaintop including the vast array of plant life on the ground anywhere there wasn't a smooth beige walkway. Further in, he caught sight of a skinny stream that opened into a cute pond. Under a plain-looking, aged, and weathered bridge, the pond was alive with little fish, flora, and decor.

Lilypads with Lotuses in full bloom, tiny silver-scaled bodies that basically looked transparent, and so much more. The largely Buddhist iconography didn't go unnoticed either. There were stone statues everywhere, talisman, and, of course, the shrines themselves. He was so enamored, he hadn't even noticed he'd zoned out. Yuji would've loved to get a better look at everything before his moment of peace was abruptly cut short.

"Screw this up and he could reject your admission, so stay frosty!"

"Huh?!"

This time, before the eldest sorcerer could land another hit on the white-hair of the teacher's head, Gojo ducked out of the way, "What is wrong with you today?!"

His former student went to vocalize a rebuttal, but they were interrupted by the (now very panicked) teen, "And what then? Immediate Execution?!"

Quickly, nearly instinctually, (name) began running damage control, "You don't have anything to worry about Itadori, you're a strong kid." He crossed his arms, throwing a glare in the younger teacher's direction, "and if anything happens, Gojo and I will be here to smooth things out."

Obediently, so as to not be smacked again, Satoru nodded his head in the background.

"Yeah..." Yuji processed the answer, taking a moment to soak in the reassurance before nodding his head slowly, "Yeah, okay, so it's just an interview with the principal?"

"What? So you're not the boss?"

All three pairs of footsteps grinded to an abrupt halt.

"Any hierarchy other than strength is worthless."

"..."

Itadori had manifested a new mouth, it seemed.

The lips were lined with jagged teeth, loaded with venom and complimented by a tongue dipped in vitriol. The mouth on the student's cheek donned a sickeningly smug grin, laced with a resentful condescension.

As quickly as the mouth opened to speak, Yuji slapped his hand over it. With a pale flush on his cheekbones, he launched into a hurried apology, "Sorry Sensei! He pops out sometimes..."

Gojo leaned closer to the boy's face, basically boring holes into Itadori's face through his blindfold, "What an interesting body you have now..."

With an abrupt shove, (name) moved Gojo aside to give the poor kid some personal space, "Does this happen often? Are there usually any side effects?"

Before he could replay, a new mouth manifested itself on the back of his hand. "Your appearance is misleading, but up close, it's much easier to gauge the potency of your cursed energy."

"Agh! Not again!"

"And you," the previously light-hearted leer took a turn toward a deeper breed of hatred, "I owe you a favor, y'know. Once I make this brat's body my own, you'll be the first one I kill."

"What an honor," Gojo cooed, "to be targeted by Sukuna himself."

Another hand came up to slap over the new mouth, "Is this guy really that famous?"

(name) brushed off the question entirely. In one ear and out the other, Itadori's words floated away with the mild summer breeze. "Are you okay? Did you feel any changes in your body or cursed energy?" He put his hands on Yuji's shoulders, scanning his body for any signs of distress; paying special attention to his face and hands.

"No, he kinda just shows up sometimes..." Allowing the older sorcerer to fuss over him, his brows bunched up in confusion, "Why? Should I be worried?"

From behind the cursed object specialist, Gojo peeked over his shoulder, "Well, Ryomen Sukuna is a fierce imaginary god with four arms and two faces." He paused, putting a hand under his chin, "Well, first he was a human that really existed," he made a flippant gesture with his hand, "even if it was over a thousand years ago."

(name) frown deepened, "Don't scare him, Satoru."

"Whaaat?" the man whined, "I'm telling the truth, aren't I?"

To this, (name) didn't have a response, instead, he gave Yuji a couple firm pats on the shoulders, standing up to his full height, "Let's keep moving."

The offending teacher rolled his eyes, shoving his hands back in his pockets, "Yeah, yeah." Still, the gesture seemed light-hearted. Just seconds later he had a grin on his face as the three started walking again, "Anyways!"

Itadori's eyes flicked over to (surname) momentarily, trying to decipher his expression, posture, anything really. Unsuccessfully though; he didn't know him well enough to pick up on any significant cues or tells.

In the background, Satoru chattered on, "In the golden age of jujutsu, sorcerers gathered up all their might to challenge him and failed. Crowned with the title Sukuna, we couldn't even destroy his grave wax while he traversed the ages after death as a cursed object." Despite the weight of his words, the energy in the air was disturbingly calm, "Without a doubt, he is the King of Curses."

Yuji swallowed, trying to ignore the lump in his throat. His dragged eyes away from where they were fixed on (name)'s broad back. Carefully, he asked, "Who's stronger, you or him?"

If his grin could get any wider, it did. Crawling up the sides of his face with a wicked glee, his eyes trailed over to his former mentor, "Well... If Sukuna regained all his power, a fight might be a little draining."

"Would you lose?"

Satoru hummed, brimming with the bountiful sense of pride lodged deep in his core, "Nah, I'd win."

"..."

Itadori turned to the older sorcerer ahead of him and Gojo again, "What about you, (surname)-sensei?"

It wasn't all that noticeable, but like a flashbang, the smell of cursed energy stinking up the previously clean fresh air indicated surprise. As quickly as it had exploded, the oppressive blanket of energy was soaked back up into the man's body. His head whipped around to the two, "Ah- me?"

Without missing a beat, the teenager bobbed his messy head of pink hair up and down, "Gojo-sensei said he could and you were his teacher, right?"

(name) tried to play off the temporary lapse in his composure, shoving both his hands in his pockets. Weirder, it looked creepily similar to when Gojo did it. "Sorry Itadori, it's kind of hard to explain if you don't know the basics of sorcery. To answer your question, I probably wouldn't be able to win against a fully realized Sukuna. Maybe when I was younger, definitely not now."

In the background, Satoru groaned. "Cut it with the humble act already. You say that like you're 50 or something..."

Yuji glanced back to him.

"Well, I'm not getting any younger," the older man sighed, " I didn't say I was old and decrepit." He pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time, "I just don't need to be the strongest anymore; you seem plenty happy to hold the title."

The blindfold obscured the admiration in his gaze, but the manner in which his chest puffed up and his chin upturned to drink in the praise betrayed any illusion of nonchalance. Itadori likened the change to a rooster fluffing up its feathers, "Well, naturally a student is meant to follow in the footsteps of his teacher."

(name) grimaced, "Hurry up, we're about to be late."

The young man stood between the two awkwardly, triddling his thumbs as he watched the more responsible adult pick up the pace. In response, Gojo scampered after him filling the atmosphere with complaints followed shortly by the new first year. Turning back to the walkways winding through the maze of traditional temples, he pondered the layout. He wasn't just curious about the buildings though, he had this burning question he really wanted to ask but he didn't know if it'd be weird.

Gojo frowned, posture slumping as he grumbled, "We're going to be late this, Yaga's going to be mad that," Gojo kicked a rock with his foot, "He's not doing anything important anyways."

(surname) just shook his head in defeated silence. He decided against arguing for the sake of his sanity.

"Ah, (surname)-sensei--I mean, well, nevermind--I really don't want to pry or be rude but I'm kinda curious, you don't have to-"

"Ask away."

Before Yuji could work himself into a nervous frenzy, something like a seventh sense tingled at the back of the former teacher's head with a foreign but familiar intuition.

Itadori chewed on the inside of cheek, trying to figure out the least offensive way to put it, "Well, uhm, you were his teacher, but you don't really look that much older than Gojo-Sensei?"

(name) nodded, "That would be correct. I'm only five years his senior since I'm 33."

JAZMIN BEAN : FAVORITE TOY

☺︎ taglist:

@angelkazusstuff @ahoeindeedinneed @wutap @mysouleaten @ilovebattinson @satansdaughter123 @http-l-o-k-i

masterlist: ☓

[dirwael]

Anything Can Happen in the Woods

Solomon x GN Reader | 736 Words | Rated T

Warnings: Brief allusions to violence and cannibalism, Slightly suggestive

Notes: Hybrid AU, Reader is called "little lamb"

- - -

The silence of the forest was your first warning.

No forest, even in the dead of night, after all the predators and prey had fallen asleep, would be so quiet. Even with the thriving trees and the running rivers, the only sounds you heard was the crunch of leaves beneath your feet, the jingle of your collar's bell, and the pounding of your heartbeat.

The signs of danger was your second warning.

As you walked down the old beaten path, you feared that the forest itself was telling you to turn back. Too many times you glanced at trees, to see them resemble horrified faces or twisted bodies, only to look twice and see normal wood. The amount of caves visible from the path was already eerie, and you could swear you'd seen bones and destroyed backpacks lying by their entrances. And even with all the foliage around you, from the moment you stepped inside, you couldn't escape the ever present scent of blood.

The destroyed torii gate was your final warning.

The top right half had fallen some time ago, indicated by the moss that crept over it's corpse. The abandoned left side struggled to stand strong, it's paint cracked and faded, the moss slowly eating up the base. Once a grand statue indicating the mark between common and holy ground, it was now just a shame the forgotten shrine behind it.

Really, you should've ran. Then you wouldn't have found yourself in such a predicament.

One where a fox snuck up behind you as you stepped before the shrine, and captured you in his arms.

A mocking laugh comes from behind you.

"A sheep entering my forest? Why, I don't know if you're too brave or too foolish. Don't you know what foxes think of adorable things like you?"

One of his arms lets go of your waist to place a clawed hand on your chin, turning your head to face him. Nine sleek white tails match the white hair and fox ears, complementing his blue/brown eyes, ones viewing you with purely evil intentions.

"We think of you as nothing more than sweet, delicious meals — perfect beings to sink our teeth into. And for you to wander inside my home..." he pauses to purr, "you're pratically offering yourself up to me! Such lovely behavior deserves some gratitude, don't you agree? So, I'll let you decide. Before I devour you, shall I give you a kiss, or a painless death?"

The fox's smirk grows as his grip on you tightens, eyes dark, ravenous, and hungry.

"Tell me, little lamb, what shall I do to you?"

Your response?

Your eyes narrow, and a sheep's meeh-like scoff leaves your throat.

"You shall thank me, for agreeing to meet in such a creepy place, Solomon!!"

You wrangle yourself out of Solomon's grasp with ease, for he barely had a grip on you to begin with. You know he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he ever hurt you, even on accident. But still, you huff and send him a glare as he laughs from behind you. He has eight of his nine tails vanish, claws retract to normal sized nails, eyes go back to bright and normal, signifying an end to his primal play game. He has the audacity to look at you with a grin, then bring out the puppy eyes upon seeing your frown.

"Aww, you really didn't like it? I thought the atmosphere fit the scene perfectly! An adorable little sheep getting caught by the big bad fox~"

"Ugh", you groan, contemplating on ramming him with your horns, "don't tell me that's the entire reason why my magic lesson is taking place here."

Solomon chuckles and shakes his head, then comes closer to boop your nose. You want to bite his finger off.

"Nope! The artifact only works in 'creepy' places like this, where the magical energy is both wild and dormant. Buuuut, I'll admit," he grins, "I just wanted to take you to Japan. Let's visit a real shrine together after this!"

With that, Solomon takes your hand in his, and... doesn't lead you further inside the shrine..? You try to voice concern, until he uses his other hand to hold your chin, just like before. You feel his nails stretch ever so slightly, and see the gleam in his eye.

"And later, I'll fulfill my promise of eating you up~".

[nausicaamusiclover20]

heyyyy I hope you feel well❣️

Can I request fluff fic reader (f) x current kirk hammett? they’re watching some horror movies and reader is so scared that she covers her face in his arm

I'm feeling good, thank you for asking, I hope you feel good too❤ I hope you like it!

Safe in his arms

 The room was dim, the only light coming from the flickering glow of the TV. It was one of those perfect nights—quiet, cozy, and calm. Kirk and I were curled up together on the couch, a blanket wrapped around us, a bowl of popcorn between us. We’d chosen a horror movie—something dark and creepy that would get under your skin, but I figured I could handle it. I loved a good scare. It wasn’t until the opening scene that I realized how real this one was going to be.

The movie had a slow, sinister start. Shadows crept across the screen, and the music was that kind of eerie, spine-chilling soundtrack that seemed to seep into the air, making everything feel tense. My heartbeat began to quicken, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling as the figure in the dark, the nun, started to make her appearance.

I tried to focus on the movie, but my nerves were already getting the best of me. Every creak, every whisper on the screen made my breath catch in my throat. The sound was deafening. The atmosphere in the room felt thicker with each passing minute. The nun—her dark figure, that terrifying face—was creeping into my thoughts, making me tense up every time the music swelled.

I shifted, leaning closer to Kirk. His warmth was a welcome comfort, but the air in the room had changed. The fear was building, rising with every second of the film. I tried to shake it off, but my body was betraying me. The tension in the air was almost unbearable, and I felt my heart thumping harder, faster.

Kirk must've noticed, because his gaze flicked over to me. "You alright?" he asked, his voice soft, but with that teasing edge he always had.

I smiled, though it felt forced. "Yeah, I’m good," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. The last thing I wanted was for him to know how easily I was getting spooked. But the feeling in my chest, the unease that had started to creep up on me, wouldn’t go away. Every time that figure appeared in the dark, my pulse would spike, and I’d find myself looking away from the screen, unable to shake the feeling of dread building up inside me.

It wasn’t long before it happened. The figure—the nun—loomed in the shadows again, and this time, the camera lingered on her face for just a beat too long. The silence was suffocating. The tension was unbearable. I could feel myself tense up completely. I didn’t know how much more I could take.

Then the music exploded—sharp, jarring—and I felt my body jump, my hands instinctively shooting up to cover my face, eyes squeezed shut as if blocking it out could make it stop.

But it wasn’t enough. The fear flooded my chest, overwhelming me. And before I even realized what I was doing, I turned toward Kirk, burying my face into the crook of his arm, my hands gripping his sleeve tightly.

Kirk’s arm was around me instantly, pulling me closer, his warmth flooding through me like a shield. The sound of the film, the low, menacing growl of the music, still vibrated through the air, but I felt a little less afraid with him holding me. I buried my face deeper into his arm, seeking the comfort I needed to escape the overwhelming fear that gripped me.

"Hey, it’s okay," Kirk’s voice was low and reassuring, his fingers brushing through my hair as he held me tightly. "You’re safe here."

The words did something to calm me. I still felt the fear crawling beneath my skin, but with him so close, I could breathe a little easier. The movie was still terrifying, but it didn’t seem as powerful when I was wrapped up in his arms. I took a shaky breath, letting his steady heartbeat against my ear ground me.

"I’m sorry," I mumbled, feeling a little embarrassed by how easily the film had gotten to me. I hated the idea of being so afraid, especially with someone like Kirk who always seemed so calm and in control.

He shook his head, smiling softly. "Don’t apologize," he said gently. "It’s just a movie. I’m right here, okay?"

I nodded, but I didn’t pull away from him. I couldn’t. The film was still full of those dark, ominous moments. The shadows in the room seemed to feel darker now, the silence stretching on longer, as though something terrible was waiting to leap out at me from the dark. I felt that terrifying sense of unease creeping into my chest again.

The figure on screen reappeared. This time, the nun was closer, moving silently through the dark, her face twisted in a grotesque smile. The music swelled again, the sound of her footsteps echoing, loud and sharp in the stillness. I flinched again, and this time, I buried my face deeper into Kirk’s arm. I could feel him holding me tighter, his presence a grounding force in the storm of fear that threatened to overtake me.

"You’re not alone in this," he whispered, his lips brushing the top of my head. "I’ve got you."

His words wrapped around me like a blanket, and somehow, I felt like the world outside us didn’t matter as much. It was just me and Kirk. The terrifying image of the nun, the creeping fear that had been suffocating me, started to fade into the background. As long as I had him with me, nothing seemed as scary.

I pulled back a little to look up at him, my eyes wide with a mixture of gratitude and affection.

"You’re really doing a great job of keeping me safe," I said, half-laughing, my voice still a little shaky.

Kirk smirked, adjusting his arm around me. "Well, it’s my job," he said with a wink. "Keeping you safe from movies and bad vibes—easy."

I laughed softly, the tension finally easing. "I guess I’ve got a pretty good bodyguard."

He chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead. "You bet you do."

For the rest of the movie, I stayed close to him, every time a scary moment came up, I buried my face in his arm again, but now there was a little less fear and a lot more laughter between us. His calm presence was enough to make the horror movie feel a little less terrifying, and every time I tensed up, Kirk was right there to calm me down, making me feel safe.

When the movie finally ended and the credits rolled, I let out a long breath. The tension that had been winding inside me slowly began to loosen, but I didn’t move right away. I stayed close to Kirk, my head resting on his shoulder, letting the safety of his embrace wash over me.

"That was... intense," I said, still a little breathless from the adrenaline.

Kirk smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "I think you were more scared than I was," he teased, but his voice was gentle, full of affection.

I laughed, the sound shaky but genuine. "Yeah... I guess so," I admitted. "But I’m really glad you were here with me."

He squeezed me a little tighter, his voice low and sincere. "I’ll always be here for you," he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Nothing’s getting past me, babe”

"Awwww, thank you, Kirky," I murmured, giving him a soft, quick kiss on the cheek. His skin was warm beneath my lips, and I felt the corners of my mouth curl into a smile as I pulled away.

Kirk smiled back, his eyes softening as he rubbed the back of my neck. "Anything for you," he said, his voice low and sincere.

With him by my side, I knew I’d always be safe. The world could throw all the scares and shadows it wanted at me, but with Kirk, I was never alone in facing them.