#the buttercup was just out of curiosity though

[normalcannibalism]

Fun fact you can candy dandelions!

interesting! id eat that... i did eat grass as a kid though. and i also ate a buttercup once

[mononijikayu]

cantarella — gojo satoru.

“Satoru.” you called softly, holding up the flower crown you had made. It was a simple creation, woven from a mix of daisies, buttercups, and clover. The flowers were arranged in a delicate, colorful circle, their petals still fresh and dewy from the morning sun. He looked up from his sketchpad, his expression as indifferent as ever, but a hint of curiosity sparkled in his eyes. “What’s that?” he asked, his tone more inquisitive than dismissive. You knelt beside him, holding the flower crown out. “It’s a gift for you.” you said cheerfully. “I made it just for you. I thought you might like to wear it.”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Nobility;

WARNING/s: Angst, Not Safe For Work (NSFW), Dark Fic, Yandere! Gojo, Toxic One-Sided Romance, One-Sided Incest, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Incest, Hurt/ No Comfort, Character Death, Grief, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Mental Anguish, Depiction of Violence, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Harm, Heavy Angst, Heavy Pining, Please Save Reader;

WORDS: 11k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this was inspired by this version of cantarella by kaito and miku i watched a long long time ago. i remembered about this notes i had about it while sitting and studying for uni. and i wrote it sitting down instead of reading more because inspiration came to me. i hope you enjoy it, even though its a dark fic!!! i love you all <3

main masterlist

kayu's playlist - side 1000;

if you want to, tip! <3

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YOU WERE FREE, YOU THINK. As the heavy iron gates of the convent swung open, the world outside flooded your senses, a stark contrast to the cloistered life you’d led for years.

The scent of damp earth and blooming flowers replaced the cold, sterile air of the convent, while the distant hum of life—a world you had been shielded from—pressed in on you. Your eyes blinked against the sudden brightness, the light almost painful after so many years of darkness.

The distant memories of your parents’ tragic deaths haunted you, lingering like a dark cloud over your soul. Their faces were blurred now, softened by time but not forgotten.

The whispers of their absence were loudest in your heart, a constant reminder of the life that had been ripped away from you. Grief had been your only companion, even more than the nuns who had raised you, and now it threatened to drown you as you took your first steps into the world beyond those gates.

Now, as the newly orphaned Duchess, the title weighed heavily on your shoulders, burdened with expectations you weren’t sure you could fulfill. The responsibilities that came with it loomed over you, a shadow of the future that awaited. You had been a child when the world had last known you, but now, the world demanded more—a woman, a Duchess, a leader.

You stepped out into the open, the gravel crunching beneath your feet as the cold wind whispered through the barren trees. The carriage waited in silence, an imposing reminder of the life you were about to inherit—a life you had never asked for. The estate loomed in the distance, its shadowy silhouette framed against a darkening sky.

It was supposed to be home, a sanctuary, yet it felt nothing like it. The sprawling lands, the echoing halls, and the faceless people who would serve you—they were yours now, or so everyone insisted. But as you stood there, shivering in the twilight, you couldn't help but wonder what "yours" truly meant.

Was it the title bestowed upon you, heavy and hollow, that now defined your existence? Or was it the legacy that clung to your name, a legacy built on the sacrifices and sorrows of those who came before?

Perhaps it was the past, a mosaic of memories and losses that had shaped you, leaving cracks in your heart that would never fully heal. And now, as you faced the uncertain road ahead, you realized that your future, too, was bound by these invisible chains. A future where each step would be weighed down by duty, expectation, and the inescapable fear of the unknown.

But despite the fear gnawing at your resolve, despite the weight of the unknown pressing down on your shoulders, you knew there was no turning back. The world outside the convent walls, a world you had once seen only in fleeting dreams, had now become your reality.

A reality where your choices—or lack thereof—would define not just your life, but the lives of those who depended on you. And so, with a heart heavy with dread and determination, you took a deep breath and stepped forward. Ready or not, you had to face it.

The carriage stood before you like a silent sentinel, its dark velvet interior offering little in the way of comfort. The family crest, meticulously embossed on its side, glinted ominously in the fading light, a stark reminder of the bloodline that bound you to this life.

As you approached, the driver, a man of few words and fewer expressions, gave a brief nod, his face as unreadable as the future that awaited you. There was no comfort to be found in his gaze, only the cold efficiency of someone accustomed to serving the powerful.

Climbing into the carriage, you felt the chill of the autumn air seep into your bones, mingling with the dread that clung to your skin. The unfamiliar path ahead stretched out before you, winding through forests and fields that you barely remembered.

Every jolt of the carriage wheels against the rough terrain seemed to echo the uncertainty within you, the sense of being unmoored from everything you once knew. Yet, despite the fear that tightened your chest, a quiet resolve began to build within you. The path was dark, and the journey would be long, but it was yours to take.

As the carriage began to move, you allowed yourself one last glance at the world you were leaving behind. The convent, with its high walls and serene silence, had been a place of refuge, but it was also a cage—one that you had outgrown. The life ahead, with all its unknowns, was daunting, but it was also a chance to carve out a new destiny, one that was truly your own.

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YOU WERE FINALLY HERE. Days had passed before the carriage finally came to a halt. The endless journey had given you time to think, to imagine what awaited you, but nothing could have prepared you for the reality.

The estate loomed large and imposing before you, a testament to the power and wealth that now rested on your shoulders. But it was not the grandeur of the estate that caught your attention as you stepped down from the carriage—it was the man who stood waiting.

Gojo Satoru. Your cousin. The only family you had left.

You had heard of him in whispers and letters, the distant cousin who had managed your affairs while you grew up behind convent walls. The cousin who had wanted to raise you himself but had been overruled by those who deemed it more proper for a young duchess to be sheltered and shaped by the church. A cousin who had become a stranger over the years.

But now, standing before him, you saw just how much he had changed. He had grown handsome, undeniably so. Tall and broad-shouldered, his presence was commanding, his silver hair catching the last rays of the setting sun, giving him an almost ethereal glow.

The dark glasses he wore only added to the air of mystery, concealing his eyes and leaving you to wonder what lay behind them. His lips curled into a smile that was anything but comforting. It was a smile that promised more than a simple welcome; it promised possession.

You were drawn to him, as you had been as a child. The way he moved, the way he spoke—it was as if the world bent to his will. But now, as a woman, you saw the darkness in his gaze, the twisted hunger that had taken root in his heart over the years.

"Cousin." he murmured, his voice smooth and sickly sweet, as if every word was coated in honey, "it’s been too long."

You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself in his overwhelming presence. "It has, Satoru. I... hardly recognized you."

His smile widened, a flash of white teeth that made your heart skip a beat. "And I, you. But then, how could I recognize someone I’ve only known through letters and rumors? Yet here you are, in the flesh, finally free from those cold walls."

There was something in his tone that made you uneasy, a sharp edge beneath the politeness. "Yes, finally," you replied, your voice quieter than you intended. "Thank you for... taking care of everything while I was away. It must have been a burden."

"Burden?" He chuckled softly, the sound rich and unsettling. "Not at all, my dear. It was a pleasure, truly. I did what any family would do—protect what is ours, and ensure it would be ready for your return.”

“Then…Then, I thank you, cousin.”

Though…." he paused, his gaze lingering on you, "I must admit, I didn’t expect you to have grown into such a… lovely woman."

The way he said it made your skin prickle. There was no mistaking the intent in his words, the way his eyes, hidden though they were, seemed to strip you bare. You took a small step back, trying to reclaim some sense of control.

"I suppose we’ve both changed," you said, keeping your voice as steady as possible. "But we’re still family, Satoru. I hope we can... get to know each other again."

"Indeed," he replied, his voice dropping to a lower, more intimate tone. "Family is everything, after all. And now that you’re here, we can finally be together, as we were always meant to be."

The way he said it sent a chill down your spine. There was something more in his words, something that hinted at a deeper, more dangerous desire. You forced a smile, hoping to mask your unease. "Yes, together. It’s been so long, after all."

He stepped closer, closing the small distance you had created. "Too long, cousin. But now that you’re back, I intend to make up for all the lost time. You and I… we have so much to catch up on."

The finality in his tone left little room for argument, and as he offered his arm to lead you inside, you had no choice but to take it, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his sleeve. His grip was firm, almost possessive, as he guided you through the grand doors of the estate that would now be your home.

But as you crossed the threshold, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were stepping into something far more dangerous than you had ever imagined. And that the cousin who walked beside you was not just your protector, but something far darker, something you were not sure you could escape.

The estate he led you to was vast, cold, and eerily silent. Each step echoed through the corridors, the sound bouncing off the stone walls that seemed to close in on you with every passing moment. It was a place meant to impress, to awe with its sheer size and grandeur, but all it inspired in you was a deep sense of unease. The shadows seemed longer here, the light dimmer, as if the house itself had secrets it was unwilling to reveal.

Gojo’s hand hovered just above your lower back, never quite touching, but close enough to make you acutely aware of his presence. It was a silent assertion of control, a reminder that he was guiding you, that you were under his protection—or perhaps his possession. The gesture felt more like a threat than a comfort, his proximity sending a shiver down your spine.

As you walked, you noticed the servants—silent, spectral figures who moved quickly to avoid your gaze. Their eyes darted away whenever they saw the two of you, averted as if they knew something you did not, as if they feared something you were only beginning to sense. They kept their distance, and when they spoke, it was in hushed tones, their whispers carried away by the drafty corridors, lost in the vastness of the estate.

The grand halls, adorned with portraits of ancestors long gone, felt more like a mausoleum than a home. The faces in the paintings seemed to watch you with disapproval, their cold eyes following your every move, judging you, questioning your right to be here.

The air was thick with history, but it was a history that felt oppressive, as though the very stones of the house were weighed down by the sins and secrets of those who had lived here before.

Gojo’s voice broke the silence, low and almost conspiratorial. “It’s been a long time since these halls have seen life,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of something unspoken. “I’m afraid the estate has grown as cold as its master in your absence.”

You forced a smile, trying to shake off the unease that clung to you like a second skin. “It’s... it’s very grand,” you replied, struggling to find the right words. “I suppose it will take some getting used to.”

He chuckled softly, the sound devoid of real warmth. “Grand, yes. But it is a lonely place, cousin. One grows accustomed to the silence, to the emptiness, but I’ve always thought it would be different with you here.”

The way he said it made your skin crawl. There was something too intimate in his words, something that suggested his desire for you went far beyond familial affection. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, but his expression was unreadable behind those dark glasses, his lips curled into that same unsettling smile.

“You’ve taken such good care of everything,” you said, trying to steer the conversation to safer ground. “I’m grateful, truly. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

His smile widened, but there was no joy in it, only something dark and possessive. “There’s no need for repayment,” he murmured, his voice dipping into a more dangerous register. “You’re here now, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted. We’re family, after all.”

Family. The word echoed in your mind, but it felt hollow, like a cage closing in around you. The estate, the title, the wealth—it was all yours, but at what cost? And as Gojo led you deeper into the heart of the mansion, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being led into something far darker, something that would be much harder to escape.

At last, you reached what appeared to be a sitting room, the heavy doors creaking as Gojo pushed them open. The room was dimly lit, a fire crackling weakly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The furniture was old but well-kept, the upholstery dark and rich, but it did little to warm the cold atmosphere of the room.

“This will be your sanctuary,” Gojo said, guiding you inside. “A place to rest, to think, to remember that this is your home now.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words. As you looked around, the reality of your situation began to sink in. This was your home, your life now. But the estate that should have been a sanctuary felt more like a prison, and the man who should have been your protector felt more like a captor.

“I’ll leave you to get settled, cousin.” Gojo said, finally stepping back, though his presence lingered in the room long after he had left. “But don’t be a stranger, cousin. We have much to discuss, and I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

As the door closed behind him, the silence of the room enveloped you, cold and suffocating. You were alone now, but the shadow of Gojo’s presence lingered, and you knew that this was only the beginning.

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YOU WERE THE CENTER OF THE WORLD. Or at least that’s what Satoru had said when he told you that society celebrated your return with much joy.  A ball was to take place in your honor, a grand affair meant to celebrate your return to the echelons of noble society.

The thought of it filled you with a mix of excitement and dread. After years of isolation, the idea of stepping into a room filled with the most powerful and influential members of the ton was daunting. You could already hear the whispers, feel the weight of their expectations. 

Your reflection in the mirror stared back at you, a stranger dressed in silks and jewels. The gown you wore was exquisite, a deep sapphire that brought out the color of your eyes, the neckline adorned with pearls that once belonged to your mother. But despite the finery, you couldn’t help but feel exposed, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t since leaving the convent.

A soft knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts, and before you could respond, Satoru entered the room. He moved with an easy grace, his presence commanding and almost overwhelming. Dressed in a tailored black suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and tall frame, he was every bit the image of a duke, a man who could have anything and anyone he desired.

His eyes, hidden behind those dark glasses, seemed to pierce through you as he approached. “Nervous, cousin?” he asked, his voice smooth and laced with amusement.

You tried to smile, but it felt forced. But you could not help it, to be this nervous. To feel like you were going to vomit and find yourself in fright. This was your social debut, after being far away from your kind for so long.

“A little.” you admitted, your hands twisting together in your lap. “I haven’t been to a ball since I was a child. I don’t even know how to behave anymore.”

Satoru’s smile was gentle, but there was that ever-present edge to it, a darkness that lingered just beneath the surface. He stepped closer, taking one of your hands in his. His touch was warm, firm, and it steadied you, even as your heart raced beneath your chest.

“Don’t be.” he murmured, lifting your hand to his lips. He pressed a kiss to the back of it, the gesture both tender and possessive. “None can rival your beauty, or your existence. You will be the brightest star in the room tonight, and they will all fall at your feet.”

The way he spoke sent a shiver down your spine. His words were meant to reassure you, but there was something almost predatory in them, as if he was not merely presenting you to society, but staking his claim on you before them all.

“I just… I want to make a good impression.” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I am a duchess of the realm. I must do well. For our family."

“You will, cousin. Do not worry much.” Satoru replied, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “But remember, you have nothing to prove to them. You are the Duchess, the true heir to this estate. They should be the ones worrying about impressing you.”

You looked up at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt, but all you saw was confidence, a certainty that made you feel both comforted and trapped. There was no escaping the life you had returned to, and Satoru was a constant reminder of that.

“I’m here, by your side,” he continued, his voice a low, soothing murmur. “No one will dare speak ill of you. Not with me watching over you.”

His words wrapped around you like a protective veil, and despite the unease that still lingered, you felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps this night wouldn’t be as terrifying as you feared. Perhaps, with Satoru by your side, you could navigate the treacherous waters of noble society.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your fingers curling slightly around his as you let yourself lean into his presence, if only for a moment. 

“Think nothing of it,” he replied, his smile growing wider, more possessive. “Tonight is just the beginning. And I’ll make sure they all know that you belong to me.”

With that, he offered you his arm, guiding you out of the room and toward the grand hall where the ball was to take place. The music had already started, the sound of violins and piano filling the air with an elegant melody. 

As you stepped into the room, all eyes turned to you, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. You could feel the weight of their gazes, the scrutiny, the admiration. But Satoru’s hand on yours was a constant anchor, a reminder that no matter what, you were not alone.

And as the night unfolded, with dance after dance, with whispered conversations and stolen glances, you realized that Satoru’s words had not been an empty promise. You were indeed the brightest star in the room, and every person who approached you did so with a mix of awe and reverence. But beneath it all, you could feel the shadow of Satoru’s presence, always there, always watching.

And though you smiled and played your part, there was a part of you that wondered just how deep that shadow, and how much of yourself you would lose to the man who claimed to protect you.

As the evening progressed and the ballroom filled with the sounds of laughter and music, the time for dancing arrived. You had been introduced to countless faces, each more eager than the last to make a connection with the newly returned Duchess. But all the introductions and small talk had left you feeling exhausted, your nerves frayed by the constant attention.

Then, as if sensing your unease, a man approached you. He was tall, with a calm demeanor that immediately set him apart from the others. His hair was blond, neatly combed, and his sharp features were softened by the warm, sincere expression on his face. He bowed gracefully before you, his eyes meeting yours with a quiet intensity that made your breath catch.

"Your Grace," he said, his voice steady and kind, "may I have the honor of this dance?"

You hesitated for only a moment before placing your hand in his, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. There was something about him—something genuine, something safe—that made you feel at ease in a way you hadn’t all night.

"Of course," you replied, allowing him to lead you to the center of the dance floor.

The music swelled as the two of you began to dance, moving in perfect harmony with the waltz. Unlike the others who had tried to impress you with their skills or status, this man—Count Nanami Kento, as you had been told—was different.

He was careful with you, his touch gentle as he guided you through the steps. His eyes never left yours, and in them, you saw not the hunger or ambition you had grown accustomed to, but something else entirely—kindness, understanding, and a quiet admiration that made your heart flutter.

With each turn, each graceful movement across the polished floor, the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders. The laughter and chatter of the ballroom, once so overwhelming, now faded into a distant hum, a backdrop to the moment unfolding between you and Nanami.

The lights softened, the grand chandeliers casting a warm glow over the sea of dancers, yet all you could focus on was the man guiding you effortlessly through the crowd. His touch was gentle yet firm, his presence steady, grounding you in the here and now.

As you glided together, Nanami spoke in a voice so soft it felt like a secret shared between the two of you. He asked about your life, your thoughts, your dreams—questions that were simple, yet carried a depth that surprised you.

His gaze never wavered, and the way he listened made you feel as if every word you spoke was of utmost importance. There was no rush, no need to impress; just a quiet, sincere interest that drew you in.

Nanami was a world apart from the overwhelming force of Satoru, who often swept into your life like a whirlwind, leaving you breathless and off-kilter. Satoru’s presence was impossible to ignore, a vibrant, chaotic energy that demanded attention.

But here, with Nanami, everything was different. His calmness soothed the edges of your anxiety, his steady demeanor a balm to the storm that often raged within you. There was a reliability to him, a sense of safety that you hadn’t realized you craved until this very moment.

You found yourself drawn to him in ways you hadn’t anticipated. It wasn’t just the contrast to Satoru’s intensity, though that was part of it. There was something about Nanami’s quiet strength, his thoughtful nature, that spoke to a deeper part of you.

As you danced, the rest of the world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you in a cocoon of shared understanding and unspoken connection. It was unexpected, this pull you felt toward him, yet it was undeniable.

Your graceful dance continued and little by little, you allowed yourself to get lost in the rhythm, in the soft cadence of his voice, in the comforting warmth of his presence. The worries that had plagued you moments before melted away, replaced by a sense of peace that was rare and precious.

In that fleeting moment, it felt as though time had slowed, and all that mattered was the steady beat of your hearts moving in sync, the unspoken promise of something more that lingered in the air between you.

As the dance came to an end, he held you a moment longer than necessary, his hand lingering on yours. His eyes, warm and sincere, held yours, and you felt a rush of something you hadn’t felt in years—something like hope, like the promise of something good. When he finally released you, he bowed again, his voice low and sincere.

"Thank you, Your Grace," he said softly. "It was truly a pleasure."

The words were simple, but the sincerity in them made your heart swell. You offered him a genuine smile, the first you had felt all night. "The pleasure was mine, Count Nanami."

As he stepped back into the crowd, you found yourself watching him go, your heart still racing from the unexpected connection. There was a warmth in your chest, a sense of peace that you hadn’t felt since you’d arrived at the estate. By the end of the night, you couldn’t deny it—you had fallen for him, the quiet, steady count who had treated you with such care.

But then, as you turned your gaze away from where Nanami had disappeared into the crowd, your eyes were drawn to a figure standing in the shadows at the edge of the ballroom. Satoru. His dark glasses glinted in the low light, but you could feel the intensity of his gaze, piercing through the distance between you. His expression was unreadable, his lips curved into a faint smile that sent a chill down your spine. 

You knew that he had seen everything—the way you had smiled at Nanami, the way your guard had dropped in his presence. Satoru’s eyes bore into you, and the warmth that had filled you moments before was replaced by a cold dread. 

No matter how much comfort you found in Nanami’s gaze, you couldn’t escape the shadow that Satoru cast over your life. And as the night drew to a close, you realized with a sinking heart that the feelings you had developed tonight would not go unnoticed or unchallenged.

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IT WAS OBVIOUS, THAT YOU WERE SMITTEN. In the weeks following the ball, the once overwhelming silence of the estate became bearable, softened by the anticipation of receiving each new letter from Count Nanami Kento.

The grand halls, with their cold marble floors and towering ceilings, no longer felt as lonely when you held his carefully penned words in your hands. His letters arrived with a sense of regularity, as if he knew precisely when you needed them most, each one a lifeline connecting you to something warmer, more genuine.

As you unfolded the delicate parchment, the world outside your window seemed to fade away. His handwriting, neat and precise, reflected the man himself—thoughtful, deliberate, with each word chosen with care.

His letters were not just a form of polite correspondence; they were conversations, deep and meaningful, where his interest in your life and well-being shone through. He asked about the small details, the little things that most overlooked, making you feel seen in a way you had not experienced before.

Nanami’s words were a balm to your troubled heart, each sentence carrying a sense of calm and reassurance that eased the tension that often gripped you in the estate’s oppressive atmosphere.

His kindness wasn’t ostentatious or overwhelming, but quiet and steady, like a gentle stream that slowly erodes the hardest stone. Through his letters, he offered you a refuge, a place where you could express your thoughts and feelings without fear of judgment or dismissal.

As the weeks passed, you found yourself eagerly awaiting each new letter, cherishing the moments when you could escape into the world he created with his words. His thoughts and feelings were laid bare, revealing a depth of emotion and understanding that resonated with you on a level you hadn’t expected. In a place where everything felt rigid and predetermined, his letters brought warmth and a sense of possibility, reminding you that there was more to life than the cold formality that surrounded you.

In his words, you felt understood and valued in a way that was rare and precious. The letters became a bridge between your two worlds, drawing you closer to him with each exchange. What had started as a simple correspondence had grown into something more, something that brought light into the darkest corners of your life.

And as you carefully folded each letter and tucked it away, you couldn’t help but feel that this connection with Nanami was something special, something that had the power to change everything.

However, not everyone was pleased with this growing connection. One evening, as you sat in the dimly lit parlor, absorbed in the latest letter from Nanami, the quiet solitude was suddenly disrupted by the sound of footsteps.

You looked up to see Satoru standing in the doorway, his presence filling the room with a tension that hadn’t been there moments before. His usual carefree demeanor was nowhere to be found; instead, his expression was stern, his blue eyes darkened with something you couldn’t quite place.

Satoru had been quieter than usual lately, his playful banter and easy smiles replaced by an uncharacteristic stillness. The change in his demeanor was subtle at first, but now, as he stood before you, the weight of it was undeniable.

His normally relaxed posture was rigid, his shoulders squared as if he were bracing himself for a confrontation. The way his eyes narrowed as they flicked to the letter in your hands sent a chill down your spine, making your stomach tighten with unease.

He didn’t say anything at first, but the silence between you was heavy, charged with unspoken words. You could feel his gaze, intense and searching, as if he were trying to unravel the connection you had been so carefully building with Nanami through your letters. The air in the room seemed to thicken, the warmth of Nanami’s words in your mind now clashing with the coldness radiating from Satoru.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and controlled, but there was an edge to it that made your heart skip a beat. “You’ve been spending a lot of time writing letters.” he remarked, his tone betraying the undercurrent of disapproval he was trying to mask. The implication was clear, though he didn’t directly mention Nanami’s name. 

You felt a surge of defensiveness rise within you, but it was tempered by the confusion and hurt that came with seeing Satoru like this. The man who had always been a whirlwind of energy and confidence now stood before you, guarded and almost vulnerable in his own way. The tension between the two of you crackled in the air, a silent battle of wills as you both struggled with what was left unsaid.

Satoru’s gaze bore into yours, and for a moment, it felt as if the world had shrunk to just the two of you in that room, locked in a standoff where neither wanted to be the first to back down. The letter in your hands, once a source of comfort, now felt like a weight, a reminder of the widening chasm between you and the man who had always been a constant in your life.

“And I have heard from whispers, dearest cousin. You’ve been spending a lot of time with count Nanami.” Satoru remarked, his voice edged with an irritation that was difficult to ignore. “I see he’s become quite the confidant.”

You looked up from the letter, surprised by the sudden shift in his tone. “He’s been kind to me, Satoru. He’s welcomed me back into the ton with kindness.” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “We’ve exchanged letters, but it’s just a way to stay connected, to find some comfort in this unfamiliar world.”

Satoru’s smile was thin and cold. “You’re aware, I’m sure, that count Nanami’s intentions aren’t as noble as they seem. He’s a man of ambition, just as any man is and you’re merely a means for him to elevate his own status. He’s using you, and yet you seem to take his words to heart.”

The accusation stung, and you felt a surge of defensiveness rise within you. “That’s not fair, Satoru. Count Nanami has always been genuine with me. He’s been nothing but respectful and kind. I don’t believe he’s using me for his own gain.”

Satoru’s expression hardened, his gaze growing colder. “You’re naïve if you think he has no ulterior motives. He may seem kind now, but he’s a count—an ambitious one at that. He sees an opportunity in you, and it’s only a matter of time before he tries to exploit it.”

“I don’t think you understand him at all.” you said, your voice rising with frustration. “Nanami is not like that. He cares about me, and I care about him. Why can’t you accept that?”

Satoru’s eyes flashed with anger, the dark glasses doing little to mask his irritation. “Careful, cousin. It’s one thing to indulge in a fleeting fancy, but it’s another to be so blinded by it that you risk your own position and safety. I’m only trying to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?” you demanded, rising from your seat. “From finding someone who treats me with respect and kindness? Nanami is not a threat—he’s a friend, someone who has shown me a different side of life.”

Satoru stepped closer, his demeanor imposing. “A friend who will inevitably use you to further his own ambitions. I’ve seen this game before, and it’s not one you want to be a part of. If you can’t see that, then I’ll have to make you understand.”

The tension in the room was palpable, and you could feel the walls closing in as Satoru’s anger boiled over. His words were like daggers, each one aimed at driving a wedge between you and Nanami. But despite the fear and the rising sense of dread, you stood firm.

“I won’t let you dictate who I can and cannot befriend,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. “Nanami is more than his title, and if you can’t see that, then perhaps it’s you who doesn’t understand what’s truly important.”

Satoru’s face darkened, and for a moment, the room was filled with a tense silence. The air was heavy with unspoken words, with the weight of conflicting loyalties and emotions. Finally, he turned on his heel, his frustration evident in his stride.

“Do as you wish,  cousin.” he said coldly. “But remember, I warned you. And if you find yourself disappointed, don’t come seeking my sympathy.”

With that, he left the room, the door slamming shut behind him. You stood there, heart racing, the echoes of his harsh words still ringing in your ears. The letter from Nanami lay on the table, a reminder of the solace and understanding you had found in him. Despite Satoru’s anger and warnings, you knew that you couldn’t turn away from the connection you had begun to cherish.

The world outside the estate might be filled with ambition and deceit, but in Nanami’s letters, you had found a glimpse of something real—something worth holding onto, no matter the cost.

A few weeks later, as the seasons shifted and the public gardens came alive with the colors of spring, you found yourself meeting Nanami Kento in a secluded corner of the park. The air was crisp, filled with the scent of blooming flowers and the gentle hum of bees. The vibrant landscape provided a stark contrast to the somber confines of the estate, and as you walked along the winding paths, your heart felt lighter, freed from the constraints of your daily life.

Nanami awaited you beneath a canopy of flowering trees, their petals drifting down like confetti around him. His eyes lit up with warmth as he saw you approach, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you. He offered you a soft smile, his gaze filled with a tenderness that made your heart flutter.

“Your grace,” he said, taking your hand in his as you reached him. His touch was gentle, and he guided you to a nearby bench, where you both sat, the blooming flowers forming a natural backdrop to your intimate conversation.

“It’s so beautiful here,” you remarked, looking around at the garden’s vibrant colors.

“It is, my lady.” Nanami agreed, but his attention was solely on you. He reached for your other hand, holding both of them on his own. “But not as beautiful as you.”

The sincerity in his voice made your cheeks flush, and you glanced down, unable to hide the smile that curved your lips. “You always know how to make me feel special.”

Nanami took a deep breath, his gaze locking onto yours with a seriousness that made your heart race. “There’s something I need to tell you, my lady. I hope I may be so prude as to ask you for your kindness.” 

You smiled at him tenderly. “I give you leave, my lord. You need not ask my permission.”

“I….I must be honest with you, my lady.” he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “From the moment we first danced together, I knew that you were someone extraordinary. Over the weeks, as we’ve exchanged letters and shared our thoughts, my feelings have only deepened.”

He paused, his fingers tightening around yours. “I am in love with you, more than I’ve ever thought possible. And I intend to marry you, if you’ll have me.”

The words hung in the air, their weight both exhilarating and overwhelming. You stared at him, the truth of his confession sinking in. The garden, the flowers, the world seemed to fall away as you looked into his eyes, seeing the depth of his affection reflected back at you.

“Yes, my lord.” you said breathlessly, your voice filled with emotion. “Yes, I will marry you. I’ve been waiting for someone who sees me for who I am, and who makes me feel truly alive. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Nanami’s eyes softened, and a relieved, joyful smile spread across his face. He pulled you gently into his arms, holding you close as he whispered, “You’ve made me the happiest man in the world.”

You nestled against him, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the promise of a future together. The garden around you seemed to celebrate with you, the flowers blooming even more brightly, the air filled with a sweet, intoxicating scent. For the first time since your return to the estate, you felt a sense of genuine happiness and hope.

As you looked up at Nanami, the man who had shown you a different side of the world, you knew that this was the beginning of a new chapter—one filled with love, joy, and the promise of a future where you could finally be yourself.

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

YOU HAD NEVER BEEN HAPPIER. The news of your engagement to Nanami Kento spread like wildfire, and by the time of the next grand ball, it was the talk of every guest in the room. The ballroom, usually filled with the hum of polite conversation and the clinking of glasses, was now charged with an air of curiosity and excitement.

Everywhere you looked, people were whispering behind gloved hands, their eyes alight with speculation about the upcoming union between the Duchess and the influential Count. The event, ostensibly a celebration of the merging of two prominent families, felt more like a stage for the spectacle of your new life—a life that had changed so swiftly, it sometimes felt as if you were watching it unfold from a distance.

As you moved through the room, graciously accepting congratulations and well-wishes, you couldn’t help but notice the eyes that followed your every move. Some gazes were filled with admiration, others with envy or curiosity, but all of them were fixated on you, the woman at the center of this momentous occasion.

The weight of their expectations settled on your shoulders, making the air feel heavier, the music louder, the lights brighter. Despite the celebratory atmosphere, a part of you felt detached, as if this wasn’t your life at all, but a role you were playing in a story written by someone else.

Amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces and forced smiles, your eyes were drawn to one figure that stood out from the rest. Satoru. He was present at the ball, his imposing figure a stark contrast to the lively crowd around him.

He cut an imposing figure in his formal attire, his white hair catching the light as he moved with the grace of someone who had long been accustomed to being the center of attention.

Yet, tonight, there was a distance about him, a coldness that had not been there before. He was surrounded by admirers and well-wishers, as always, but even in the midst of the crowd, he remained aloof, his eyes scanning the room as if searching for something—or someone—he could not find.

Your heart ached as you watched him, the memory of your last confrontation still fresh in your mind. The distance between you had grown wider in the weeks since then, an unspoken tension hanging between you like a storm cloud that refused to break.

You longed to mend things, to reach out and bridge the chasm that had formed between you and your cousin, but every time you caught his eye, he looked away, his expression unreadable.

The ball continued around you, the music swelling, the dancers twirling, but your thoughts were with Satoru. The joy that should have accompanied your engagement was tainted by the unresolved tension between you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something precious was slipping through your fingers. Nanami’s presence beside you was steady, his hand warm on yours, but it was Satoru’s absence—his emotional distance—that gnawed at your heart.

As the night wore on, you found yourself searching for moments when you could catch Satoru’s gaze, hoping to see some sign that he was still the cousin you had grown up with, the one who had always been by your side.

But each time, he remained distant, his walls firmly in place. The chasm between you seemed insurmountable, and as the ball continued, the realization that you might never bridge that gap settled heavily within you.

Yet, despite the ache in your chest, you knew that this night was a turning point, a moment that would define the course of your future. The ball was not just a celebration of your engagement; it was the beginning of a new chapter in your life.

But as you danced with Nanami, his presence comforting and reassuring, your thoughts kept drifting back to Satoru, the one person who should have been standing by your side, sharing in your happiness. Instead, he stood apart, a distant figure on the fringes of your new life, and the pain of that realization was almost more than you could bear.

With a deep breath and a determination to confront the situation, you made your way across the ballroom toward Satoru. The crowd parted slightly, and his gaze met yours as you approached, his dark glasses hiding his true emotions but his posture unmistakably stiff.

“Satoru, dearest cousin.” you began, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you. I’m sorry for how things went the last time we spoke. I didn’t mean to defy you or hurt you.”

He regarded you for a moment, and then his expression softened slightly, though he remained guarded. “I’m sorry too, my lovely cousin.” he said, his voice low and sincere. “I let my frustrations get the better of me. It wasn’t fair to you. I only wanted what I thought was best.”

Before you could respond, Nanami approached, his presence a calming contrast to the tension between you and Satoru. He offered a warm smile to both of you and extended a hand in greeting. Nanami then shifts his face, looking towards your own cousin.

“Is everything alright?” Nanami asked, his tone gentle and concerned.

Satoru glanced at Nanami, then back at you, and after a brief pause, he nodded. “Yes, everything is fine, my lord. I was just about to make a toast in honor of the engagement.”

He signaled to the servants, who quickly moved to bring in bottles of wine and glasses. The murmur of the crowd grew as they sensed something significant was about to happen.

With a gracious nod, Satoru raised his glass, and the room fell into expectant silence. His gaze shifted between you and Nanami, and though he spoke with his usual composure, there was a sincerity in his tone that was hard to ignore.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my gracious lords and ladies.” Satoru began, his voice carrying through the ballroom. “Tonight, we celebrate not only the union of two distinguished families but also the beginning of a new chapter in the lives of these two wonderful people. To my cousin, the duchess, and to my lord count Nanami Kento, I offer my heartfelt congratulations.”

He turned to you and Nanami, his smile warm but tinged with an underlying complexity. “May your life together be filled with happiness and prosperity. May you find joy and support in one another through all the challenges and triumphs that lie ahead.”

The room erupted in applause, a cascade of sound that seemed to envelop you from all sides. The clinking of glasses followed, a symphony of celebration that filled the grand hall, yet in the midst of it all, your heart was racing with a blend of emotions you could barely contain.

Relief washed over you like a cool breeze, cutting through the tension that had been knotted in your chest for what felt like an eternity. The applause wasn’t just for the announcement of your engagement—it was for the moment of reconciliation that had just played out before everyone’s eyes.

Satoru’s gesture, though unexpected, had sent a ripple through the gathered guests. His choice to stand and raise his glass in a toast, his expression carefully composed but unmistakably sincere, was more than just a public acknowledgment of your engagement.

It was a sign—a signal that he was willing to accept your choice, even if it pained him to do so. For so long, the distance between you had been a source of quiet anguish, an unspoken rift that neither of you had known how to bridge. But in that moment, with everyone watching, Satoru had taken the first step toward closing that gap, and the weight of that gesture settled over you with a mix of gratitude and sadness.

You felt Nanami’s hand tighten around yours, the warmth of his touch grounding you amidst the swirl of emotions. When you looked up at him, his expression was calm, yet there was a depth in his eyes that spoke of an unspoken understanding.

He didn’t need to ask what you were feeling; he knew. He had always known. Nanami’s quiet strength, the steadiness that had drawn you to him in the first place, was your anchor in this moment. His support was unwavering, his presence a silent promise that he would stand by you through whatever came next.

The applause continued, but the world around you seemed to blur, the faces and voices fading into the background as you focused on the two men who meant the most to you—one by your side, offering you a future, and the other across the room, finally offering you his acceptance. There was a bittersweet quality to the moment, a recognition that while you were stepping into a new life with Nanami, something else was being left behind.

As you smiled and nodded in response to the well-wishes of the guests, the gratitude you felt wasn’t just for the applause or the approval of those around you. It was for the unexpected turn of events that had allowed a measure of peace to be restored between you and Satoru, even if things would never be quite the same as they once were.

The mix of relief and gratitude in your heart was tinged with a quiet resolve—to honor the connections that had brought you to this point and to move forward with grace, knowing that you were not alone in this journey.

In that moment, with Nanami’s hand in yours and Satoru’s gaze finally softened by acceptance, you allowed yourself to breathe, to feel the weight of the past lift just enough to let you take the next step forward. The path ahead was still uncertain, but with Nanami by your side and the lingering warmth of Satoru’s gesture in your heart, you felt ready to face whatever lay ahead.

“Thank you, Satoru." you said softly, raising your own glass in acknowledgment. “Your words mean a great deal to us.”

Satoru inclined his head slightly, acknowledging your gratitude, and then turned to mingle with other guests, leaving you and Nanami to share a moment of quiet reflection.

The evening continued with renewed energy, and as you danced with Nanami, you felt a sense of peace, knowing that despite the challenges, you were surrounded by people who cared for you and were willing to bridge the gaps that had formed.

As the night continued, the ball's festivities seemed to intensify, with guests dancing and chatting in high spirits. But amidst the celebration, you noticed that Nanami appeared increasingly pale and uncomfortable. His hand, which had been warm and reassuring in yours, grew cold, and he occasionally grimaced, as if battling an unseen pain.

Concerned, you guided him to a quieter corner of the ballroom, away from the crowd. “Kento, my love.....are you alright?” you asked, your voice filled with worry.

He tried to smile, but the effort was clearly painful. “It’s nothing, my darling.” he said, though his voice was strained. “I’ve just been feeling a bit unwell lately. It’s probably nothing.”

You helped him to a nearby chair, your hands trembling as you guided him down. But as soon as he sat, you noticed something terribly wrong. His face contorted with discomfort, his brows knitting together as a pained gasp escaped his lips.

His breathing grew shallow and labored, each breath a struggle that sent a jolt of fear through you. His hand moved to clutch his stomach, his fingers digging into the fabric of his coat as if trying to ward off an invisible agony. His skin glistened with sweat, and his once calm and steady demeanor was replaced by something raw and unsettling.

Before you could even react, his body suddenly slumped, going limp in the chair. The color drained from his face, his eyes fluttering shut as if the strength had been completely sapped from him. Panic surged through you like a bolt of lightning, your heart racing as you dropped to your knees beside him. “Kento!” you cried, your voice thick with fear, hands shaking as you desperately tried to rouse him. But he didn’t respond—his eyes remained closed, his body frighteningly still.

Frantically, you called out for help, your voice breaking as terror gripped you. The noise of the ballroom, once lively with chatter and laughter, fell into a stunned silence. The sudden shift in the atmosphere was palpable, as if the entire room had collectively held its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

Satoru was among the first to arrive, his tall figure cutting through the crowd with an urgency that matched your own. His usual easygoing demeanor was nowhere to be seen; instead, his expression shifted from confusion to alarm as he took in the scene before him. His gaze darted between you and Nanami, the gravity of the situation sinking in as he knelt beside you, his own hands hovering over Nanami’s still form, unsure of what to do.

A doctor, who had been attending the event, quickly rushed over, pushing through the gathering crowd with a determined expression. You watched in desperate anticipation as the doctor knelt on Nanami’s other side, his fingers moving quickly to check for a pulse, to feel for any sign of life. His face grew increasingly grave as the seconds ticked by, his lips pressing into a thin line.

The minutes dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity as the doctor worked, his movements precise yet tinged with a growing sense of urgency. The room’s tension mirrored the heartache building within you, a crushing weight that threatened to overwhelm you. Every second that passed without a sign of improvement, every quiet murmur from the doctor that you couldn’t quite hear, only deepened the pit of dread in your stomach.

The once festive atmosphere of the ball had been completely shattered, replaced by a chilling silence that seemed to echo your worst fears. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the cold, terrifying reality that the man you loved was slipping away, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

Finally, the doctor straightened, his expression sorrowful. “I’m afraid there’s nothing more I can do, your grace.” he said quietly. “Count Nanami is dead.”

The words struck you like a physical blow, leaving you momentarily paralyzed as their meaning sank in. It was as if the ground beneath your feet had been pulled out from under you, and you were left to freefall into a void of disbelief and despair.

You stared at Nanami’s lifeless form, his face pale and still, the strong and steady man you had known reduced to this fragile, unresponsive shell. It didn’t seem real—couldn’t be real. The vibrant world around you blurred, the colors bleeding into one another as your vision wavered. The music that had once filled the ballroom, the laughter that had echoed off the walls, now seemed like a distant, haunting memory from another life.

The sounds around you dulled, as if you were underwater, the cacophony of voices and gasps of disbelief fading into a muffled, indistinct hum. The air felt thick, suffocating, as if it were pressing down on your chest, making it difficult to breathe.

The reality of the situation was too much to comprehend, too overwhelming to process. Nanami, who had been so full of life just moments ago, was now gone. The finality of it was like a weight crushing your heart, and you felt as if you were being dragged into a darkness from which there was no escape.

Satoru placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, a gesture meant to offer solace, but it only deepened the emptiness that had settled in your chest. His touch, usually so warm and reassuring, felt hollow and distant, as if even he couldn’t bridge the chasm that had opened up between the life you had known and the unbearable reality you now faced.

You didn’t look up at him, couldn’t bear to see the reflection of your own grief in his eyes. Instead, you remained fixated on Nanami, your mind desperately trying to reject the truth, to find some way to undo what had just happened.

The guests, who had been caught up in the joy and excitement of the evening, were now stunned into silence. Their expressions of shock and somber concern mirrored the confusion and heartache you felt. The whispers began to spread through the room, a low murmur that grew in intensity as people tried to make sense of the tragedy that had unfolded before them.

The once celebratory atmosphere had been shattered, replaced by a palpable sense of unease and sorrow. The collective joy that had filled the ballroom had evaporated, leaving behind only the cold, stark reality of loss.

As you stood there, your mind spinning and your heart breaking, the world around you continued to move forward, indifferent to the pain you were experiencing. The echoes of the music and laughter that had once filled the room now seemed like cruel reminders of a happiness that had been irrevocably taken from you.

The life you had imagined with Nanami Kento, the future you had so carefully envisioned, was gone in an instant, leaving you adrift in a sea of grief and uncertainty. Nothing was left behind.

You clutched Nanami’s hand, tears streaming down your face. “No, cousin....I....I cannot....” you whispered to him. “This can’t be happening. He was just here. We were about to start our life together.”

Satoru’s voice was gentle but firm. “We need to get you out of here, you cannot stay here.” he said, guiding you away from the scene with a sense of urgency. “Come with me.”

As you were led out of the ballroom, your mind was a whirlwind of grief and disbelief. The promise of a future with Nanami had been abruptly stolen from you, leaving you with nothing but the crushing weight of loss. The vibrant night that had once held so much promise now felt like a cruel mockery, its joy eclipsed by the shadow of tragedy.

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

YOU COULD NOT COPE WELL. Months had passed since Nanami’s tragic death, and despite the time that had elapsed, the ache in your heart remained as fresh as ever. The estate, once filled with the excitement of the engagement and the promise of a future, now seemed like a silent, mournful shell. Each day felt like an endless repetition of grief, with memories of Nanami lingering painfully in every corner.

Satoru, your cousin and now your closest family, had tried to coax you back to some semblance of normalcy. He encouraged you to attend social events, to engage with the world beyond the estate’s walls. But each time, you found yourself unable to muster the strength or the will. The world outside felt alien and unforgiving, a stark contrast to the warmth and hope you had once known with Nanami.

One evening, after yet another failed attempt to persuade you to join him for a dinner gathering, Satoru’s patience finally wore thin. His frustration, masked for so long, burst forth in an outburst that left you reeling.

“Why can’t you just move on?” he demanded, his voice sharp. “It’s been months. You can’t spend the rest of your life hiding away in this grief-stricken state.”

The words stung, and you felt a surge of anger and sadness collide within you. “You don’t understand,” you cried, tears streaming down your face. “You didn’t lose him. You don’t know what it’s like to have everything ripped away like that.”

Satoru’s expression softened, a flicker of regret in his eyes as he saw the depth of your pain. The harshness in his voice faded as he approached you, his demeanor shifting to one of concern and gentleness.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice now filled with an earnestness that cut through the earlier anger. “I didn’t mean to be so harsh. I’ve been trying to help, but I know I can’t truly understand your pain.”

He reached out, gently taking your hand and guiding you to a nearby armchair. His touch was soothing, a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil you were feeling. “Let me help you,” he said softly, kneeling beside you. “I know this is hard, but you don’t have to go through it alone.”

Satoru’s presence was a grounding force, his usual aloofness replaced by a sincere attempt to offer comfort. He poured a drink from a decanter on a nearby table, holding it out to you with a reassuring smile. “Here,” he said, “a little something to help calm your nerves.”

You accepted the drink, your hands trembling slightly. As you took a sip, the warmth of the liquor began to ease the tight knot of grief in your chest. Satoru settled beside you, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions.

He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, the gesture tender and supportive. “I know it’s not the same as having Nanami here,” he said quietly, “but I’m here for you. We can get through this together, even if it takes time.”

You leaned into him, finding solace in his steady presence. The tears continued to flow, but amidst the sorrow, there was a small flicker of hope—hope that perhaps, with time and the support of those who cared for you, the heavy burden of grief might one day become a little lighter.

Satoru stayed with you, his hand resting gently on your back as you cried. In that moment, his support and understanding offered a sliver of comfort, a reminder that even in the depths of loss, there could be moments of compassion and connection.

The truth began to unravel slowly, almost imperceptibly. You had been grieving, struggling to find any semblance of normalcy, and trying to rebuild a life that seemed forever altered by Nanami’s death. Satoru, in his way, had been both a source of comfort and a persistent presence, urging you toward recovery. His support, once reassuring, began to feel increasingly intrusive, as though his concern masked something darker.

One evening, as you were going through some old letters and personal effects, a hidden compartment in one of Nanami’s personal belongings caught your attention. Inside, you found a stack of letters and documents that seemed out of place. As you sifted through them, a particular letter stood out—a letter from Nanami to you, written shortly before his death. Its contents were cryptic and filled with a sense of unease that made your heart race.

The letter spoke of suspicions of being watched, of a growing sense of danger, and a mention of a mysterious figure who had been lingering in the shadows. That evil forces were coming, investigated by the Crown. That he was a blue shadow, a dark shadow. You put the letter down, your chest tightening.

The pieces of the puzzle began to click together in your mind, and a chilling realization dawned on you. Satoru, he...he was called the Queen's Blue Ghost. That was what he does for the Crown. You bit the lower edges of your lip. You could feel your legs losing strength as you grabbed the table to balance yourself.

You shake your head, almost as though you were in denial. It can't be. Your cousin....He would not. He promised, that he would always be good to you. To everyone. He, he can't be.

Desperate for answers, you confronted Satoru, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and anger. You cornered him in his private study, your voice trembling as you demanded the truth. He raised his head and smiled at you. But quickly, that retreated the moment he saw that look on your face.

"Cousin, is something wrong? Dearest one, you are agitated. You must—"

“Satoru, please.” you said, trying to keep your composure. “I require your honesty. Please. I need to know the truth."

"Whatever about? I have always been honest with you."

"Not on everything. And you know this. I know this."

"Dearest cousin, calm down—"

"What really happened to Nanami Kento? About the others. How many? How many others did you hurt?"

Satoru’s face, usually so controlled, betrayed a flicker of something dark and unsettling. He stepped closer to you, his eyes gleaming with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. The moment you said his name, the moment it all snapped. You could feel your heart pound as he corners you, traps you, in his vicinity. You swallow the bile down your throat.

“The truth, you say?” he replied, his voice smooth but laced with a dangerous edge. “I’m afraid you might not like it, cousin. I fear I might upset you. And....that is out of the question."

You took a step back, the fear overwhelming you. “What did you do? I know you had something to do with it. Did you poison him?”

A cold smile spread across Satoru’s lips. “You’ve been more perceptive than I gave you credit for,” he said softly. “Yes, I was responsible. But it was all for you, my dear cousin.”

The words struck you like a blow. “For me? What are you talking about?”

Satoru’s gaze softened, but the malice beneath it was unmistakable. “I’ve always been in love with you. Even when we were children, I was captivated by you. Everything I did, every action I took, was driven by my desire to have you for myself. And I do not care, how many suffers for it. That lowly count, those pesky tattletales. I do not care, cousin. As long as I have you. ”

The enormity of his confession hit you with a force that left you reeling. “You killed my Kento… just to have me? Do you....do you know how derange that is? How could you? How could you do this to me?”

He stepped closer, his voice a whisper that was both chilling and intimate. “No one else could ever be right for you but me. I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else taking you away from me. Nanami was an obstacle, and I removed him to clear the path for us.”

Horrified and desperate, you tried to flee, but Satoru’s reflexes were swift. He grabbed your arm with a strength that was both frightening and unyielding. You struggled against him, but his grip only tightened as he pulled you close. Your heart pounded, and tears streamed down your face as you realized the extent of his obsession.

“Let me go!” you cried, your voice breaking with desperation. “I can’t be with you. Not after this.”

Satoru held you tightly, his arms encircling you in a possessive embrace. “No,” he said firmly, his voice unyielding. “You belong with me. I’ve waited too long for this moment, and I won’t let anyone—least of all you—deny what’s meant to be.”

His words, though tender in their own twisted way, were laced with a darkness that left you feeling trapped and helpless. You could see the unshakable resolve in his eyes, the certainty that he was the only one who could provide the life he believed you deserved.

“I did it all for you, dearest one.” Satoru continued, his tone a mix of reverence and obsession. “Everything I did, every sacrifice, was to ensure that we could be together. You’ll see, in time, that no one else can care for you the way I do.”

It was as though for a moment, your memories echoed. That boy Satoru was, the distant and aloof boy you had looked up to, chased after — he was not there anymore. All that’s left is a monster. A monster who believed that loving you meant hurting you. Tears fell as you remember the boy he was. 

The large, sunlit gardens were a backdrop to a series of memories, each one highlighting the contrast between your vibrant, spirited nature and Satoru’s reserved, emotionless disposition. 

You were only six years old when you first encountered Satoru’s indifference. He was sitting alone in a secluded corner of the garden, surrounded by books and sketches, seemingly lost in a world of his own. His silver hair gleamed in the sunlight, but his eyes, hidden behind dark glasses even then, were as cold and distant as the surrounding shadows.

Despite his aloofness, you were determined to reach out to him. You approached him with a bright smile, holding a daisy you had picked from the garden. “Satoru,” you called out, “would you like to play with me?”

He glanced up briefly, his expression unreadable. “I’m busy,” he replied curtly, his voice lacking warmth.

Undeterred, you sat down next to him, placing the daisy on his sketchpad. “But it’s such a nice day! Don’t you want to come outside and enjoy it?”

He stared at the daisy, then at you, a flicker of something—perhaps curiosity or irritation—crossing his face. “I don’t see the point in playing,” he said, turning his attention back to his sketches.

You persisted, your enthusiasm unwavering. “It’s not just about playing. It’s about having fun and being together. We can make up a story about the garden and pretend we’re explorers!”

“I don’t want to.” He whispered.

You pout. “But that’s no fun!”

As a young girl, you were determined to break through Satoru’s emotional barriers. One sunny afternoon in the grand estate’s garden, you devised a simple, yet heartfelt plan. You had spent the morning picking a variety of wildflowers, their vibrant colors brightening your small wicker basket. You were excited to surprise Satoru, who was once again immersed in his books and sketches in his usual secluded spot.

The garden was alive with the hum of bees and the soft rustling of leaves, and the sunlight filtered through the trees, casting playful shadows on the ground. You spotted Satoru sitting against a large oak tree, his focus intensely fixed on his work. With a smile, you approached him quietly, careful not to disturb his concentration.

“Satoru,” you called softly, holding up the flower crown you had made. It was a simple creation, woven from a mix of daisies, buttercups, and clover. The flowers were arranged in a delicate, colorful circle, their petals still fresh and dewy from the morning sun.

He looked up from his sketchpad, his expression as indifferent as ever, but a hint of curiosity sparkled in his eyes. “What’s that?” he asked, his tone more inquisitive than dismissive.

You knelt beside him, holding the flower crown out. “It’s a gift for you.” you said cheerfully. “I made it just for you. I thought you might like to wear it.”

Satoru’s usual aloofness seemed to falter as he took in the sight of the flower crown. There was a brief flicker of surprise in his eyes, a momentary break in his emotional armor. He looked at the crown, then back at you, clearly unsure of how to react.

Without waiting for his response, you gently placed the flower crown on his head, adjusting it carefully so that it sat comfortably. Your fingers brushed against his hair, and you beamed at him with an innocent, genuine smile.

“There!” you said, stepping back to admire your handiwork. “Now you have a crown fit for a king.”

Satoru’s initial reaction was one of shock, his mouth slightly agape as he touched the delicate flowers with hesitant fingers. The corners of his mouth twitched, and for a brief moment, you saw a rare, genuine smile break through his usually stoic expression. It was a fleeting, but unmistakable, expression of delight.

He looked up at you, his eyes softer than they had ever been. “You made this for me?” he asked, his voice betraying a hint of warmth that was seldom present.

“Yes, cousin!” you replied, your eyes sparkling with happiness. “I wanted to do something nice for you. I thought it might brighten your day.”

Satoru’s gaze lingered on you, and you could see the conflicted emotions playing across his face. The flower crown, so simple and yet so heartfelt, seemed to have touched him in a way you hadn’t anticipated. He looked away, his expression growing contemplative.

“It’s… nice.” he said quietly, a hint of genuine appreciation in his tone. “Thank you.”

You smiled, pleased with his reaction. “I’m glad you like it, cousin!” you said, reaching out to gently touch the crown. “I hope it makes you smile.”

As you walked away, you felt a sense of accomplishment. You had managed to break through Satoru’s emotional wall, if only for a moment, and the sight of him wearing the flower crown was a memory you would cherish. Little did you know that this simple act of kindness would become a significant, albeit bittersweet, part of your lives.

The contrast between the boy who had once been so distant and the man who now held you captive was stark and painful. The memories of your childhood—the times you had tried so hard to reach out to him, to bridge the gap that had always seemed to exist between you—now echoed in your mind like a cruel mockery.

Those moments, once filled with innocent hope and longing, now served as a haunting reminder of how drastically things had deteriorated. The boy who had seemed unreachable, who you had thought might one day come around, had instead grown into someone who was both terrifyingly close and dangerously unrecognizable.

As you struggled in his arms, the harsh reality of your situation became all too clear. Satoru’s love, which had once been a source of warmth and comfort, had twisted into something dark and all-consuming. The affection that had once made you feel safe was now a prison, its walls closing in around you with every passing second.

The realization that his love had warped into an obsession sent chills down your spine, and the fear that gripped your heart was unlike anything you had ever known. You had always known Satoru was different, that there was something in him that set him apart, but never had you imagined that his feelings for you could turn into something so possessive, so terrifying.

His grip on you was unrelenting, his arms a cage that you knew you could not break free from. No matter how hard you struggled, how desperately you tried to push him away, his hold only tightened. There was no trace of the gentle boy you had known in his eyes now—only the cold, determined gaze of a man who would not be denied.

As he held you close, you could feel the weight of his obsession pressing down on you, suffocating you with its intensity. The warmth that had once drawn you to him had been replaced by a chilling darkness, and the love that had once been your sanctuary had become the source of your greatest fear.

A profound sense of betrayal and loss settled over you, heavy and unyielding. The man who had once been your closest confidant, your protector, had now become the architect of your greatest sorrow.

The trust you had placed in him, the bond you had thought unbreakable, had been shattered beyond repair. The future you had dreamed of, filled with hope and happiness, was now overshadowed by the bleak reality of his possessive love.

In that moment, as you were held captive in his arms, you understood with a heartbreaking clarity that the Satoru you had known was gone, replaced by someone you could no longer recognize.

The boy who had once been distant, yet filled with potential, had become a man whose love had turned into a dark obsession, and the life you had once envisioned was now lost to the shadows of his twisted affection.

“I waited so long for this day, to have you free from the nuns, from the watchful eyes of the church, from anyone who would keep you from me." He whispered. “And I had to deal with that pest, that lowly pathetic count. All of those who wanted to steal you from me!”

The air in the room thickened as he stepped closer, his breath brushing against your skin. You knew what he wanted, what he had always wanted. It was written in the way he looked at you, the way his fingers twitched as if resisting the urge to reach out and claim you right then and there.

But you were no longer a child, no longer the naive girl who would blindly follow where he led. You were a Duchess now, with power of your own, and you would not be so easily consumed by the flames of his obsession.

Yet, as his hand finally found its way to your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze, you couldn’t help but feel the pull. The twisted, sick desire that mirrored his own, the yearning to give in to the darkness that had always lurked beneath the surface of your soul.

"You will be mine, cousin." Gojo whispered, his lips hovering above yours. "Whether you like it or not."

You were drawn to him, as you had been as a child. The way he moved, the way he spoke—it He reached for you, his hands rough yet strangely tender as they cupped your face, his grip firm and unyielding.

Before you could react, his lips crashed against yours with a force that stole your breath. You struggled, tried to push him away, but he was stronger—much stronger. Your fists pounded weakly against his chest, a futile attempt to break free from the iron hold he had on you.

Tears welled up in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks as you felt the helplessness of the situation, the weight of his obsession bearing down on you. But even as your mind screamed in protest, there was a part of you that responded to his touch, a dark, twisted part that had long been buried beneath years of repression.

His hands roamed over your body with a fervor that mirrored the storm brewing inside you, fingers tracing the curves of your form as if memorizing every inch. He pulled you closer, his embrace tightening until there was no space left between your bodies, the heat of his desire searing through your clothes, igniting a fire deep within you.

You hated yourself for the way your body betrayed you, for the way your heart raced not only with fear but with a sick anticipation. You could feel the hunger in his touch, the same hunger that had lurked within you, hidden and denied for so long. 

Gojo’s lips trailed down your neck, leaving a burning path in their wake, his breath hot against your skin. His words were a whispered promise, laced with a dark possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine.

"You can’t escape me, cousin." he murmured against your throat, his voice thick with desire. "I’ve waited too long, dreamed of this moment for too many nights. You’re mine now, and I’ll never let you go."

His hands slipped beneath the fabric of your dress, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin beneath as he explored with an urgency that left no room for doubt. You gasped, the sound caught between a sob and something else, something far more dangerous.

As his touch grew bolder, you realized with a sickening clarity that no matter how hard you fought, no matter how many tears you shed, you were losing yourself to him. The line between love and hate, between desire and fear, blurred until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

Gojo pulled back just enough to look into your tear-streaked face, his eyes darkened with a twisted satisfaction. His thumb brushed away the tears that still fell, a cruel smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Don’t cry, my dearest." he whispered, his voice laced with mockery and something softer, something almost tender. "You’ll learn to love this, to love me, just as I’ve always loved you."

And as his lips claimed yours once more, the last vestiges of your resistance crumbled, swallowed whole by the darkness that he had nurtured within you, until all that was left was the Duchess who belonged to the Duke—no matter the cost.

[anniebeemine]

the proposal- s.r. x reader

Part of ITAV. Can be read as a standalone, but doesn't have to be :)

As Spencer watched you glide effortlessly across the ice rink with Naomi, he couldn't help but feel a deep sense of appreciation and admiration. Naomi was beaming with joy, her laughter ringing out as she skated beside you. She wore the purple gloves you had made for her, her tiny hands barely visible as they gripped the sides of the rink for balance. Her beanie, a thoughtful gift from Penelope, added a touch of playful charm to her outfit, and had her name embroidered on the front.

Spencer’s heart warmed as he took in the scene. You had a natural way with Naomi, a patience and kindness that went beyond anything he’d experienced before. He could see how much Naomi adored you, how she looked up to you with a sparkle in her eyes that he had rarely seen. You had become a part of her world in a way that made him rethink everything he thought he knew about relationships and parenting.

The way you interacted with Naomi, your gentle encouragement as she wobbled on the ice, your easy laughter, and the way you seemed to instinctively know how to make her feel special—Spencer realized just how right you were for both of them. He’d never brought someone into his life who fit so seamlessly into it, someone who was not only good for him but exceptional for Naomi. It was in these moments, watching you with her, that he felt a profound shift in his understanding of what he wanted for his future.

Meanwhile, as you skated hand-in-hand with Naomi, you found yourself reflecting on your own feelings. You had never imagined yourself as a parent. The idea of having a child seemed like an anchor, something that would tie you down and limit your freedom. You had always viewed children as a responsibility that came with constraints—an endless list of needs and demands that would prevent you from living a carefree, spontaneous life.

But Naomi was different. From the moment you met her, she had subtly changed your perspective. She had a way of drawing out a side of you that you hadn’t known existed—a nurturing, caring part of you that was willing to embrace the responsibilities of parenthood. The joy you felt in making her smile, in watching her grow and experience new things, was something you had never anticipated. Naomi had transformed your view of what it meant to be tied down. She made you see that being there for someone, supporting them, and sharing in their happiness could be profoundly fulfilling.

As you skated with Naomi, her playful call of “Buttercup!” echoed through the rink, a new nickname she had given you with a beaming smile. It was a reminder of how deeply she had come to care for you and how much you had come to care for her. The nickname, though simple, was a sign of the bond you had formed—a bond that was growing stronger with each passing day.

Spencer watched from the sidelines, his mind racing as he considered the future. He knew that you were not just a passing part of his life but a significant presence who had brought an unexpected joy and stability into both his and Naomi's lives. The love and care you showed Naomi made him realize that this relationship was something more than he had ever anticipated. It was something worth holding onto, something that made him think about a future where you, Naomi, and he were a family in the truest sense of the word.

And for you, as you skated with Naomi and felt the warmth of her hand in yours, you began to understand that perhaps the life you had once viewed as restrictive was now filled with a new kind of freedom—one that came from love, connection, and the joy of sharing your life with someone who meant everything to you.

-

In the stillness of the night, Naomi woke up feeling restless. She sipped her water and turned over in her bed, only to notice a faint light coming from the living room. Curiosity got the better of her, and she tiptoed out of her room, her small feet padding softly on the floor. As she approached the living room, she saw you and Spencer, both asleep on the couch. 

The movie was still playing, casting flickering shadows across the room. You and Spencer were asleep on the couch, leaning into each other, the blanket draped over you both in a comforting tangle. Her gaze drifted to the bowl of popcorn resting on Spencer’s lap. The popcorn looked too tempting to resist, so she carefully approached, trying her best not to wake either of you, knowing she’d be sent back to bed. Gently, she slid the bowl from Spencer’s lap, her small hands gripping it securely. As she turned to head back to her room, she accidentally stepped on something hard and small.

Naomi glanced down and saw the little red box, now slightly askew on the floor. She knelt to pick it up, her curiosity getting the better of her. She set the popcorn down and opened the little box. 

Inside was a beautiful ring. A thin gold band with a sizable rock on it. She rubbed the velvet lining, moving the entire box so she could see the light bounce off of the diamond. Naomi reached out, taking the ring between her fingers, and slipped it onto her own finger, though it was still too big and slid right off. She giggled softly, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

Naomi decided right then and there that she liked the ring too much to leave it behind. She stood up, cradling the ring in her hand, and made her way back to her room. Quietly, she pulled open the drawer of her little pink jewelry box, a cherished gift from you, and placed the ring inside. It sat there among her collection of plastic rings from vending machines and toy necklaces, a new treasure added to her stash.

Feeling a sense of satisfaction, Naomi climbed back into her bed, hugging her stuffed animal close. She drifted off to sleep, the ring now safely hidden away in her room, where it would remain her little secret. As she closed her eyes, she thought about how she’d tell you about it tomorrow.

-

Naomi stirred from her sleep, feeling the gentle touch of a hand softly caressing her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim light of her room, and she saw you standing over her, a tender smile on your face. The warmth of your hand on her skin was comforting, but there was something different about the way you were looking at her.

"Hey, sweetheart," you whispered, your voice soft and soothing. "I'm sorry I woke you up. I just wanted to say goodbye before I left for the day."

Naomi blinked, still groggy from sleep, and pushed herself up slightly in bed. "Where are you going?" she asked, her voice small and curious. She rubbed her eyes, trying to shake off the sleepiness.

You brushed a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "I have to go run some errands, just a few things to take care of," you replied, your tone gentle. "I'll be back later, okay?"

Naomi nodded, but she wasn't quite ready to let you go. "Can I come with you?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of hope.

You smiled, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "Not today, sweetie. But how about we do something special when I get back? We could go to the park or watch a movie, whatever you want."

Naomi nodded again, though she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. She watched as you stood up and made your way to the door, your footsteps quiet on the carpeted floor. She slipped out of bed, her tiny feet padding softly as she followed you down the hallway.

As you reached the front door, Naomi tugged at your hand, looking up at you with wide, sleepy eyes. "What are you going to do?" she asked again, her curiosity not yet satisfied.

You knelt down to her level, taking her hands in yours. "Just some things I need to get done. I have to find some new shoes, return some things, nothing too exciting. But I promise I'll be back soon, and then we can spend the rest of the day together, okay?"

Naomi nodded, feeling reassured by your words. She wrapped her arms around you, hugging you tightly. "Okay. I love you," she murmured.

"I love you too, Naomi," you whispered back, holding her close for a moment before finally letting go. You gave her one last smile before you opened the door and stepped outside.

As the door closed behind you, Naomi stood there for a moment, feeling a strange sense of unease. She turned around to head back to her room, but then she heard a noise coming from the living room. It was the sound of something being moved, followed by a muffled curse.

Curiosity piqued, Naomi tiptoed toward the living room, peeking around the corner. She saw her dad in the middle of the room, tearing through the cushions on the couch, his movements frantic and desperate. He was searching for something, his usually calm demeanor replaced by a sense of urgency.

"Dad?" Naomi called out, her voice small and unsure.

Spencer looked up, his eyes wide with surprise as if he hadn't noticed her standing there. "Naomi, hey," he said, trying to keep his voice steady, though she could see the worry in his eyes. "What are you doing up, sweetheart?"

“Buttercup woke me up on accident,” Naomi yawned, plopping down on the couch and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She glanced at the mess around her dad, her curiosity piqued. “What are you looking for?”

Spencer hesitated, his gaze flicking to the floor as if searching for the right words. "I'm looking for a very important ring, Naomi," he finally said, his voice soft but filled with a weight that Naomi didn't fully understand.

Naomi's eyes widened, a pang of guilt tugging at her heart. She thought back to the little red box she had found the night before, the ring she had slipped into her own jewelry box, thinking it was just another pretty trinket. "Who’s it for?" she asked, trying to sound casual as she shifted on the couch.

"It’s Y/N's," Spencer replied, his voice barely above a whisper, as if saying the words out loud made the situation all the more real.

Naomi’s heart sank even further. She didn’t want to get in trouble or see her dad upset, so she bit her lip and shook her head. "I haven’t seen it," she mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

Spencer let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Okay, sweetheart," he said, though the tension in his voice was unmistakable. He gave her a small, tight smile before returning to his search, his movements now more methodical but no less urgent.

Throughout the day, Naomi noticed how tense her dad was. He seemed distracted, constantly checking drawers, opening and closing cabinets, and even going through the laundry, all in a futile effort to find the missing ring. The worry lines on his face deepened with each passing hour, and the lightness that usually filled their home seemed to have vanished.

When you returned home later that evening, the atmosphere was noticeably heavy. But as soon as you walked through the door, Naomi felt a small surge of relief. You greeted her with a warm smile, and she couldn’t help but feel comforted by your presence. After catching up on your day, you and Naomi settled down on the living room floor to work on a new puzzle you had surprised her with earlier, the colorful pieces scattered around you.

You noticed that Naomi seemed quieter than usual, her little brows furrowed in concentration as she carefully placed each piece. "You okay, Naomi?" you asked gently, glancing over at her.

Naomi nodded quickly, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—something that told you she had something on her mind. You decided not to press her, instead focusing on the puzzle and enjoying the quiet moment together.

Naomi suddenly stood up. "I’ll be right back," she said, her voice soft as she darted off to her room.

You watched her go, curious about what had sparked her sudden departure. Moments later, she returned, clutching something small in her hand. She walked over to you, her steps hesitant, and then slowly held out her hand.

“I found your ring,” Naomi said quietly, her voice laced with guilt as she opened her palm to reveal the delicate piece of jewelry. 

You felt your breath hitch. “Naomi, where did you find this?” 

She bit her lip, her eyes welling up with tears. "I… I found it last night in the living room, in a little red box. I didn’t know it was important, so I put it in my jewelry box. Daddy said it's yours. I’m sorry," she whispered, her voice trembling with fear of what your reaction might be.

You smiled softly, wrapping your arms around her in a comforting hug. "It’s okay, Naomi," you reassured her, stroking her hair. "I’m just glad you told me. You did the right thing by bringing it to me."

Naomi sniffled, burying her face in your shoulder. "I didn’t want to get in trouble," she mumbled, her small voice muffled against you.

You pulled back slightly, looking into her eyes. "You’re not in trouble, I promise. I know it can be confusing sometimes, but it’s always better to tell the truth. Thank you for being honest with me, okay?"

Naomi nodded, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders. She glanced at the ring again, her curiosity returning. "Is it really for you?" she asked, her voice tinged with wonder.

You nodded, smiling as you held the ring between your fingers. "Yes, it is. And it means a lot to me—and to your dad, too."

As if on cue, Spencer appeared in the doorway, his eyes widening in disbelief when he saw the ring in your hand. "You found it?" he asked, his voice thick with relief as he rushed over to you both.

"Naomi found it," you explained, smiling as Spencer knelt down beside you.

Spencer looked at Naomi, his eyes softening as he pulled her into a hug. He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions. "I’m so sorry, Y/N," he began, his voice soft but earnest. "This isn’t how I planned any of this. I had a whole evening planned—a special dinner, maybe even a picnic under the stars—but then I couldn’t find the ring, and everything just fell apart."

You held out the ring to him. “Then we can wait.” 

Spencer let out a soft chuckle, his tension finally easing as he looked at you with a mixture of relief and love. He gently took the ring from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours as he slid it onto your finger. The simple yet profound act felt like the culmination of everything you had been through together.

As the ring settled onto your finger, something clicked in Naomi’s mind. Her eyes widened as she looked between the two of you, her mouth forming a small “O” of realization. "Did you just… propose?" she asked, her voice filled with a mixture of surprise and excitement.

You and Spencer exchanged a quick glance before turning back to her with matching smiles. "Yes, sweetheart," Spencer said, his voice warm and full of affection. "I just proposed."

Naomi squealed with delight, her little feet kicking excitedly as she launched herself into your lap. "Can I be a flower girl? Please, please, please?" she begged, her eyes shining with hope and happiness.

You laughed, wrapping your arms around her as you shared a joyful look with Spencer. "Of course, you can be the flower girl," you assured her, ruffling her hair playfully. "We wouldn’t have it any other way."

Naomi’s squeal of excitement filled the room again as she hugged you tightly, her arms around your neck. Spencer reached over, wrapping both of you in his embrace, and for a moment, everything else melted away. The three of you were wrapped in a cocoon of love and happiness, the promise of a future together solidified in that one small, unexpected moment.

The grand plans didn’t matter, nor did the perfect setting. What mattered was that you were together, ready to take on whatever came next as a family. And as you held Naomi close, Spencer’s arms around both of you, you knew that this was just the beginning of a new and beautiful chapter in your lives.

[deluxewhump]

Carlo’s Letters: Suzerain (unsent)

(from a collection of letters in Carlo’s handwriting. This one has no addressee or formal greeting, but the intended recipient is easily inferred)

CW: slave/pet whump, at times ambiguous master/pet relationship, Carlo is 20 writing this but referencing a time he was a minor (17), hand feeding, mention of violence and acid burning in the context of a movie, sexually charged looks in public from men, overall a reflective and tame piece)

April

Someone mentioned the tax season deadline and it brought up a memory I have of you, in that funny, mostly unrelated way memories have of coming up. Years ago, I think I was seventeen, we were trying to re-enter the country after a short trip. Something had gone wrong with our tickets. They were flagged, and we had to visit the consulate before flying.

The girl at the counter had hair the color of fake buttercups in a ponytail tied with a navy ribbon. She looked like an old-timey stewardess I’d seen in magazine illustrations. She said you had to pay a new fee to bring back a pet. No, not a new pet, just any pet. A one-time re-entry fee for those traveling internationally with their pets. You checked the time on your watch and asked when this came about. I got a chill from the subdued, civil curiosity you possess that makes people more nervous than a raised voice. The girl winced when she said last week, like she’d been getting pushback on it since then.

I glanced from her face to yours. The set of your mouth is easier to read than your eyes sometimes, especially when you’re talking to strangers. My eyes drifted down the pressed lines of your sleeve, the neat black lines of the coat folded over your arm. She turned her screen toward you, the policy pulled up and ready. I noticed the official US seal on the top, that sharp eyed, pitiless eagle and borders of navy blue. Knowing this was about me made me lightheaded, and I ran my pinky along the scratchy fabric of your coat like I could tether myself to you that way, focusing on the friction of fabric and skin. I took a deep breath slowly, so no one would notice.

You read her screen and hummed in amusement. The girl laughed nervously with you, unsure if you were about to give her a hard time. But you just paid the fee for my re-entry, and we went back to the taxi and rode to the airport. It was four thousand dollars. My stomach churned at the number.

The security checkpoint was busy. I stayed close to you amidst the throngs of people winding through the stanchions. They had dogs out today, and made us walk past them two by two. An agent with a belt full of gear and black boots made eye contact with me. His eyes were a transparent blue. I looked at the dog instead, its tail wagging softly and his head bent low, sniffing for contraband, thrilled to serve its master.

With two hours until our flight we sat in a dimly lit restaurant booth, all dark wood and polished brass rails at the bar that gave the impression we had stepped out of the sterile, white halls of the airport into another decade. The wall behind the bartender was mirrored. I watched us in the reflection as you ordered two waters and a caprese salad. I said I wasn’t hungry, though when the server brought your penne primavera it smelled so good I had a brief pang of regret.

I drank the water you ordered for me, imagining it cooling me from the inside out and bringing back my equilibrium. How many Italian dinners would four thousand dollars buy? Why did you have to pay such a jaw-dropping fee to bring your own property back into your own home country?

You ate at a pace slower than leisurely and ordered dessert, which was unlike you. I realized it was for me when you scooped the first bite of chocolate mousse cake on a fresh fork and put it in front of my mouth. I must’ve looked miserable because you pulled it away.

“What?” you said gently.

“Why was it so much?”

“Why was what so much, angel?” There was no warning in your tone. Only patience.

“To bring me back?”

You sighed through your nose, finished your demitasse of espresso. “That was a King’s ransom, wasn't it? Just a clever way to drum up some extra revenue. They know most of us won't leave our pets at a consulate over four grand. Well. Some will."

"Can you get it back?"

"I need you to stop wringing your hands over a luxury tax, Carlo." You sounded amused now, which was better than annoyed but not a distant land to it, either. "What did you bring to read on the plane?"

"The Idiot?"

"That won't help,” you said.

I didn't know what you meant by that, but I was alright with being in the dark, or the butt of a joke, if gave you a moment of genuine pleasure. "...It just seems unfair," I shrugged.

You lowered your voice. “It’s got nothing to do with you, sweetheart. It’s no matter. I’d have paid whatever I needed to. It’s a mosquito bite.”

I dropped my eyes. You’d gone out of your way to reassure me, and it had made my face warm. Back then, if I could have changed anything about myself, it would have been the way I blush so easily, making every emotion visible and ten times more humiliating. You offered the fork again and I leaned forward to take the bite of rich, sweet cake. It was good. I was hungry. I wanted another bite. But I’d sit there with my mouth watering for another five minutes while you took a phone call rather than reach for something I hadn’t been handed.

My attention slid off to a woman who’d dropped her purse in her rush to her terminal. Her phone skittered all the way to the drinking fountain by the wall like a rock skipped on water. It seemed to me the real world was inside the restaurant, its fresh bread smells and dark polished wood, and the ant-like rush outside in the airport was an illusion, a large TV screen.

You scooped another bite onto the fork and fed it to me with your cellphone to your ear, looking at me absently as you did. “I thought that’s what you said,” you said to whoever was on the other line. “I agree. They need to vet these guys. The new software makes it a step by step process.” You fed me yet another bite. My teeth hurt from the sweetness, but I took it. Chewed, swallowed. “There shouldn’t be any more mistakes like that. They need to be held responsible.”

You weren’t talking to me, or about me, but your matter-of-fact, stern tone made my spine tingle anyway.

I noticed a broad-shouldered black man with a close, well oiled beard watching my master hand feed me. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, had only a carry on briefcase with him. His watch and cufflinks looked expensive. His leather shoes gleamed. He saw me return his gaze and looked away with profound disinterest.

Strange men in public often had that reaction. Either that, or they would smile at me. It was almost always men. Women sometimes looked, but I couldn’t read their intent as easily. The men who grinned and leered always felt like a violation. I knew most would be a hot breath on my neck and the smell of some grotesque cologne, but at least they were displaying interest. I knew they could not actually touch me. Being an object of envy or desire still made me feel safe in those days, even if I knew the desire was destructive.

If strangers with a penchant for youngish boys would look at me with such open interest in an airport, a cafe, a crowded street, then I must possess something that has value to my master, even though he doesn’t use me in that way. Beauty alone must be enough for him, and that must be the essence of his attachment to me. It was my currency and I knew it.

Once (not with you) I saw a movie in which pets often had their faces burned with acid either as a last-ditch kind of punishment or a form of vandalism by their master’s enemies. I had bad dreams about it for months afterward. I don’t think I had ever imagined violence with any kind of permanence or real malice behind it until that moment. Why would I have?

Men like this one, who looked away as if even curiosity about me was beneath them were harder to be sure of than ones who stared. Were they too polite for that? Were they abolitionists who imagined I’d like to be free of this man I was with? Or did they find me, my submission, my mouth on the proffered fork of man who was so clearly my master repulsive? Was it hate or indifference?

I don't receive those looks anymore. I don't look like a pet. I don't sit like one at the side man who looks like no relation to me, and like he'd own a pet. Max thinks I'm oblivious to the way girls look at me sometimes. I probably am. Sometimes when I look in the mirror I still imagine myself though your eyes. I don't cut my hair too short or let it grow too long. I wear things you taught me to like. I don't have to do any of this. Someone else might shave his head, wear things he knows you'd dislike.

Do I still not possess an ounce of rebellion when it comes to you? I'm like that dog at the airport. I don't understand emancipation or retirement. I am waiting for you to tell me to come home, or else give me permission to become someone else.

You're in prison. I imagine you like some incarcerated mob guy in the thirties, with your own dinner menu and LL Bean slippers and guys who respect a gun runner nodding at you in the yard and calling you boss. What's it really like?

If I send this, will you write me back? Would you write to Max instead, telling him to keep a better eye on my mental state because I'm writing to you in prison? That would be worse than no reply, I think. A hand-slap and a reprimand.

The possibility might keep me from sending it.

Not Yours,

Carlo Svenson

[matchadobo]

Hot sexy welder here!

Could i get uuuuh headcannons kid or killer with a fem reader trying to woo them with her crafting skills? Like bringing them little handmade trinkets or stabby doodads?

Please and thank you 🙏,

A very down bad welder

KIDD & KILLER; gifts

wc: 1264 warning/s: suggestive in the end but completely sfw! fluff?? steamin?? this is my first time writing for a 2 person x reader kinda thing so forgive me if it sucks </3

"have you seen captain? killer-san too?"

you had gone around the victoria to look for kidd and his vice captain, frantically asking each face you see for the two. even the rookies who were too scared of you and the boys were in daze as you held a crate of overflowing contraptions you made over the week.

"why? gonna court 'em with that?" heat teased with a bastardly smile on his face, reaching over to touch the trinkets in the heavy crate.

it had been a known FACT around the ship that you have a MASSIVE crush on the two of them. though kidd and killer know it too, they never shut your feelings down nor ignore it. it's not the first time you've brought over some trinkets you made.

you pulled them away with a raised brow, "don't touch it! i didn't make 'em for you!" you stuck your tongue out. "and yes, i plan to give it to 'em. got any problem?"

heat surrendered with his hands leveled above his chest. "absolutely not, ma'am." he cleared his throat before finally answering your question. "but i think they're in kidd's workshop, they're planning shit for the next island."

"thanks! now, answering properly isn't so hard, right?!" you nudged him goodbye and strolled to the last room in the hallway.

you knocked a few times, waited for a while before the bickering stopped, and saw these two towering men welcome you. except that kidd has a scowl and killer has his mask on.

kidd placed his human arm at the top part of the door frame (that's how tall he is ☹️) and leaned down at your height. "what's so important, buttercup?" there was a hint of irritation in his tone, but you're used to it. you knew he wasn't annoyed, in fact the shift in his gaze from you to the shit you're carrying proved his curiosity.

killer peeked over kidd's shoulder, giving you a wave to which you smiled back at him since your hands are full.

"i brought gifts!" you beamed, trying to lift the heavy crate you're carrying. killer saw you struggling so he stepped over to carry them for you.

"gifts? last i check christmas was in the 25th, name." killer skimmed through the crate, one hand carrying the bottom of the crate, to which you were absolutely struggling on with two hands, while the other shuffled through the pile of metalworks.

"it doesn't have to be christmas to give gifts, okay? i was just..." you fiddled with your fingers. "working on something for a long time and i wanna give it to you guys."

"you love givin' shit to us that much, yeah?" kidd reached over to ruffle your hair as you looked down to try and hide your blush. "come on now 'ere inside, shortcake. let's see what you got."

as you three get settled inside, the two have began to rummage through the crate of your handiworks. "so, love it, huh?" you broke out, anticipating their reaction.

"you really wanna fill up my shelves with your shit, aye?" kidd lifted a ballerina you made from nuts and screws, it spun with the lever attached on its base when it was pulled by him.

killer played with the cars you made, wheels spinning with oiled up nuts. "don't keep them all to yourself, kidd. i'd want some of the cars too."

you were between them as they examined each trinket you made, you held stuff up for them as you showed how each of them works. they've selected those they want to keep for themselves, praising the way each piece was constructed.

"you really amaze me with these, name." kidd started, taking the miniature globe you fiddled with. "tell me somethin', why do you keep making this for us?"

both of their eyes were fixed on you, earnestly anticipating your answer. your cheeks felt hot and you felt so little under their gaze. as a member of the kidd pirates, you're used to feeling little around towering men in the crew. your crushes are two meters for fuck's sake! but you never felt so overwhelmed by them at this moment.

"don't get us wrong, name. i personally love these!" killer exclaimed, giving you a nudge. "it's just that... you do these things for someone more than once and it starts to mean something else." killer shifted in his feet, the blue in his eyes peeking through the holes of the helmet.

"like what?" you raised a brow. alternating gazes between the two men. "what kind of message does it give?" you crossed your arms, getting closer.

"name," kidd responded, getting one step closer to you. "i know you and how you don't give a fuck about anything else that you don't care about. these consistent things, these gifts and baubles, you take time in them, cooped up in your room. and don't get me started on your lingering gazes, alright? we're not fuckin' blind, sweetheart." he finished with a grin.

"so tell us," killer started, now both of them were too fucking close to you, you can smell their colognes that fucked with your brain too hard. "is this your way of confessing and saying i love you, princess?"

there was silence. and for a moment, you thought the world had stopped spinning. you cleared your throat because it felt like shit got stuck on it. "what if i said yes? what if i said i do love the living shit outta the both of you it drives me fucking insane and the only way i know how to say it is by flooding the both of you with stuff i make when i think about the you two and i can't do anything about it because making these bullshits is the only way i know how to express myself, okay? then what will happen, huh?" you frantically monologued, word-vomiting everything. once you realized what you had done, you felt all the heat in your body rise in your head and you suddenly felt lightheaded.

"i'll tell you what'll happen, i'll pull you close like this." kidd grabbed your wrist as you crashed in his embrace. "have you in my arms. tell you that i feel the exact-fucking-way. and this, is the part where i kiss you." he leaned in close pressing his lips to yours, that's where your heart fucking stopped and your breathing became irregular. his lips tasted like rum and raspberry, the latter taste must be from the lipstick you gifted him back then.

"come on now captain, you're not the only one she confessed to, right?" killer interrupted. "give me a chance to say i love you too."

kidd smiled through the kiss, pulling away. "you okay with being shared?" he joked as you got even redder before he handed you to killer. "make it fast, i might not contain myself and make out with the both of you."

killer first removed his helmet, you've seen him before without it but god was he like a goddamn greek god with those eyes and cheekbones. killer held you by your waist while his other hand was at the back of your head under your hair, "i'm gonna kiss you now, that okay?" he asked, searching for any denial in your eyes but all he saw was utter anticipation and need. you nodded, closing your eyes. his lips tasted like peach and whiskey.

it was sublime. you didn't sleep in your bed that night and let's also say you three did other things than sleep.

hellooooo thank you for introducing yourself 🌷 hope this is okay for you?? i realized why not both?? both is good?? LMAO I LOVE THIS SM THANKS FOR THE REQ 🥰

[tgmsunmontue]

More than movie magic... 11/24

Hangster AU. Explicit (eventually). Jake is a Hollywood actor and Bradley is a stunt coordinator. Jake's about to make a few self-discoveries. So is Bradley.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN

PART ELEVEN

              Bradley is pretty sure he’s missing something. In fact, he knows he’s missing something, but he can’t figure out if it’s something big, or something inconsequential. He feels like everyone around him knows, and it’s niggling at him, but he can’t ask them what it is he doesn’t know when he doesn’t know what it is. It’s frustrating and he knows when he figures it out he’s going to be annoyed.

              Throughout the day he hears Jake’s voice and he’s very glad to learn it is definitely only Jake’s accent that makes his skin prickle with arousal. It’s bad enough for it to be him, but he’s starting to think that Jake might be interested in him, which doesn’t help dampen the arousal at all. But he can ignore it, just notice it and then move on. The accent isn’t present all the time either, and Bradley finds out that it’s more apparent when Jake’s talking to the horses, thinking he’s alone, or when he’s relaxed and maybe not thinking about who he’s talking to. When the camera is rolling it’s not quite as relaxed and broad, but it is unmistakably still very Texan.

              Bradley wants to know what he sounds like during sex. Whether he’s trained himself so much that he doesn’t lose it when he’s in an intimate moment… fuck he wants to find out. And rather than thinking that this will never happen he’s starting to realize that maybe he might. Because he knows he’s not imagining it now, Jake Seresin has definitely been watching him. Nearly every time Bradley has been close enough to hear him talk, Bradley has turned to look, and Jake had been looking his way nine times out of ten. Even now, across the mess hall as Bradley sits with Natasha, Rueben and Bob, Jake is watching.

              “Evening everyone!”

              “Aunty Kaye…” Bradley says, while the others all greet her as Mama Kaye, and all with easy smiles.

              “You mind if I join y’all for dinner?”

              “No, of course not.”

              They shuffle a little to make room and then she’s sitting between him and Bob, and Bradley doesn’t know what’s wrong, but Jake’s eyes have gone wide, a little alarmed even and he can’t help the quick glance over his shoulder just to double check there isn’t something terrible approaching before glancing back to Jake to find him no longer looking, his face now in his hands. He frowns a little before shifting his attention to what Kaye is saying.

              “We’re thinking of organizing a dance for everyone, give them something to do all the way out here. Have barbecue, do some dancing… You like dancing Bradley?”

              “Yeah, pretty much like everything to be honest,” Bradley says, because it’s the truth. He likes putting his body through its paces, is amazing everyday at what the human body and mind is capable of. Likes learning new things.

              “You ever done line dancing?”

              “No, but it looks like fun.”

              “It is. Bill and I used to go every week, haven’t since his leg obviously, even though he gets around fine now.”

              Bradley doesn’t know whether it’s polite to ask what exactly was wrong with Bill’s leg, but decides to leave it. Aunty Kaye is asking questions of all the others, clearly not holding back her own curiosity, asking how long they’ve all known each other, how long they’ve worked together and the others keep up a steady stream of chatter. They all agree to attend the dance if it goes ahead on Friday night, and he doesn’t say that it’s like they have other options out here. They’ve been playing a lot of cards.

              They finish eating and go their separate ways; he’s started the habit of taking a piece of carrot to Buttercup every night after dinner, after checking with Andy that it was okay. He heads for the stables, has always found being around animals to be relaxing and the organized peace and quiet of the stables is nice in the evening, the horses all getting ready for their own rest. He’s usually the only one here, maybe one or two of the cowhands passing through, more often Freddie doing some last-minute chores. Tonight though there’s a stall light on and his steps falter as he spies Jake.

              He’s saddling up the same horse Bradley saw him arrive on this morning, and he wonders if it’s his horse, that maybe that’s how familiar he is with the area, that he’s riding here every morning… except surely riding around at night isn’t the safest. He can’t see any reflective gear and he winces a little internally at how easily he just slips into a working frame of mind.

              “You going riding?”

              “Lord you gave me a fright!” Jake exclaims, and his voice is rough with surprise and he’s looking at Bradley like he jumped out and screamed boo, and of course his accent is thick and broad and Bradley swallows.

              “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Just… pretty dark out.”

              “I could find the way wearing a blindfold, even if Blitzen didn’t know the way home.”

              Home.

              Oh shit.

              He’s an idiot.

              There it is.

              The thing that everyone knows but he just… hadn’t picked up on.

              Fuck.

              That’s actually embarrassing and he can’t believe he didn’t piece it together.

              “This is your home. Your actual home…”

              “Well, I have my own place in LA. And I do have a trailer setup for when my parents inevitably drive me mad after about two weeks, but yeah, this is where I grew up. Where I call home.”

              “Kaye and Bill are your parents,” Bradley states, because now that he’s aware of it, he can see the similarities between Jake and his father; although Jake’s got his mother’s easy smile.

              “Yep.”

              “And you’re staying with them.”

              “Yep.”

…           …           …

              “You’ve been looking at me. Watching me.”

              “Yeah,” Jake manages to get out, throat dry.

              “You going to do more than look?”

              “Do you want me to?” Jake asks.

              Bradley’s answering smile is slow and it makes Jake’s heart beat pick up.

              “Do you want to?” Bradley asks, his voice low and Jake’s brain sparks with dozens of answers in the affirmative, none of which he can force out of his mouth so he simply nods silently, feels his breath pick up as Bradley steps in close, lets his fingers come to rest on Jake’s belt, over the soft-worn fabric of his shirt and he’s so close. So warm.

              “Jake…”

              “Bradley…”

              The kiss is firm, sure and confident exactly like Jake thought it would be, the hands on him sure and certain of their welcome and Jake feels the breath in his lungs shudder out of him in broken bits. He remembers he can be an active participant, doesn’t need to wait for direction, this isn’t a scene where there’s an intimacy coordinator trying to make things looks more real.

              This is real.

              “Bradley…” Jake says again, and god it feels good, the rough scrape of stubble across his face, moustache soft, lips even softer and he kisses back, lets his hands move under Bradley’s shirt, wants to feel his skin and lets out a quiet moan when he feels Bradley’s hands doing the same thing. They’re right out in the open, anyone could see them and he reaches out, scrambles for the latch of the stall door, pulling Bradley in after him and shutting the door. Blitzen snorts and stomps a little, but otherwise ignores them. Bradley’s working at kissing down his neck, along his jaw, it’s making his entire body thrum with hyperawareness. He wants Bradley’s hands on every single inch to soothe the burning.  Bradley Bradley Bradley.

              “God I love the way you say my name…”

              He can work with that, keeps muttering under his breath, his body trying to press itself against Bradley like he’s wanting to make himself a permanent imprint. His cock is definitely hard in his pants, Bradley’s thigh between his working a gentle rocking motion clearly intent on getting him hard and he just wants to melt into it. Fuck. They haven’t even had a proper conversation. He doesn’t do this. God does he want to though.

TWELVE

[natashaslesbian]

We Saved Each Other (Part Two)

Summary: Natasha bring you back to S.H.I.E.L.D. She starts to find herself caring for you

Word Count: 851

Parings (Natasha Romanoff x Kid!Reader) (Avengers x Kid!Reader)

Warnings/Content: Swearing, minor red room mentions, injury detail, scars, hints towards an abusive past

————

The journey back to HQ was long, almost 6 hours. Thankfully it was shorter than a typical aircraft journey thanks to the high tech S.H.I.E.L.D jet. You slept most of the way and Natasha never left your side, not once. Her need for water or a bite to eat meant nothing against your safety. Of course you were safe, she knew that, but she feared you waking with only Clint in sight. “How is she?” Clint asked “still sleeping” Natasha answered “how are you?” The silence was deafening, how the fuck did he think she was. “I’m fine” she coldly said, still solely focused on you. As if you sensed her discomfort, you began to wake, increasingly concerned by your whereabouts. Clint took a step back as to not frighten you. “Hey sleepyhead” Natasha cooed. You rubbed your eyes and looked around, your eyes landed on clint and you backed away. “Wer me?” You whispered “ou say saf! No urt!” You finished, pointing towards Clint. “Hey, it’s ok, this is my friend Clint. He won’t hurt you I promise.” Her Russian accent had your attention, you hadn’t seemed to notice it before. “scawd” you whispered “you don’t have to be scared anymore” The redhead reached for you and you cautiously accepted her touch “we’re gonna get you somewhere safe just like I promised” she paused for a moment, thinking “I’ll take care of you” your little eyes lit up with hope and Natasha knew that now, she was forever connected to you.

Natasha excited the jet, you in her arms. Clint suggested he would meet with Fury alone to debrief as to give the widow a chance to decompress and Nick agreed; though he had many questions when he saw your small frame. “Um, if you go see agent Hill she should be able to find you, um her, some change of clothes” he stuttered. Natasha nodded, thankful to be able to get you out of your dirty ripped rags. You averted your eyes from the many wandering gazes of passing agents while Natasha was lead to a private room. The redhead set you down and thanked her fellow agent who smiled and exited in a hurry. “Let’s get you changed yeah?” Natasha said as she began rummaging through an old dusty box “maybe get you a bath or shower? Get you cleaned up?” You tensed up for a moment, frozen in place. “Sweetheart?” The redhead said. You peaked up at her through your teary eyes “no wata” you whispered, “I won’t hurt you hunny, I promise” Natasha knelt down to meet your eyes, she could see the fear painted across your face “ok” she sighed “no shower but darling we need to get you cleaned up a bit, and I need to see if you’re hurt” you were defiantly hurt, inside and out, past and present.

You hesitantly agreed and the widow snuck into the bathroom to grab a warm wash cloth. You settled yourself on the edge of the bed while you waited, your heart pounding. “Right then buttercup” Nat said as she re-entered the bedroom “let’s get you out of these dirty clothes” she waited for your lead and eventually you pulled your shirt towards your waist. Natasha soon realised you were completely bare other than the thin material draped over you, she cautiously placed a towel over you, slightly frightened by your small flinch. “It’s ok” she hummed. When the rest of your small frame was revealed Natasha was taken aback by your state. Dark bruising marked your shoulders and hips and the littering of scars across your stomach brought a lump into her throat. When you noticed her staring you quickly hid behind the towel and averted your gaze. Realising her mistake, Natasha took a step back. You watched as she rolled her own shirt up, revealing a scar above her right hip “I got this one a few years ago” she said. Your curiosity got the better of you “wha happen?” You asked. “I was shot, I have other scars too you know” Natasha said as she came back to your side “you don’t have to be ashamed of them, what happened?” She said, kindly mimicking your earlier question. You thought about telling her, the older woman had been so kind to you and you had started to trust her. You opened your mouth to speak but all you could hear were your fathers words

“if you tell anyone about what daddy does to you, I will kill you, just like you killed your mother you pathetic little bitch”

You snapped your mouth shut and shrunk back into herself “it’s ok” Natasha whispered “you don’t have to tell me, but if you change your mind it’s safe for you to tell me” her hand came into contact with your shoulder and the breath got stuck in your throat “‘M cold” Nat sprung back into action, ecstatic that you had told her what you needed.

There was a warmth in the air now. And a silent sentiment that just maybe things were going to be okay.

————

[ca-8]

Hi hi I hope your doing well after all that and I'm glad your back! And thanks to you I'm sorta obsessed with fusionfall!!

Would it be okay if I could get Dexter with a s/o who's from another dimension? Like they love to dimension hop and time hop.

They have this special pocket watch that allows them to take them and a number of people to different dimensions and timelines.

Another cool thing is they can use that pocket watch as a weapon ÙwÚ

Thanks in advance!

Aww, thank you so much! This means so much more than you think <3 And of course!~

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

✫☼ 𝝙𝝚𝝬𝝩𝝚Ɍ 𝝬 𝝞𝝢𝝩𝝚Ɍ𝝙𝝞𝝡𝝚𝝢S𝝞𝝤𝝢𝝖Ⳑ 𝝩Ɍ𝝖ꓴ𝝚Ⳑ𝝚Ɍ!Ɍ𝝚𝝖𝝙𝝚Ɍ (𝝜𝝚𝝖𝝙𝗖𝝖𝝢𝝤𝝢S) ☼✫ (Part 1(?))

If there's one thing to say, it's that Dexter was fascinated by (Y/n) when they first met. He was practically glued to their side once they heard of their power: all the non-stop questions, then the non-stop follow-up questions, and the close up study of their interdimensional bracelet passed down by the Gods of Space and Time--it's safe to say that they grew close very quickly.

But soon, it became more than a fascination. Dexter didn't know how or even the second it had happened, it just did! It went from wanting to hear stories about worlds outside his own to needing to hear that beautiful voice as it weaves through (Y/n)'s poetic words. Taking a glimpse of them as they walked through the hallways with the most adorable curious look on their face suddenly turned into him showing them their latest invention the second their eyes would meet.

And yes, it's that curiosity, it's akin to his own. The way their eyes lit up at the sight of his outstanding craft makes him feel as though heaven rained down miracles upon him. So much so that it made it to the very top of his priority list whenever he gets his hands on his wrench. Now that the war with Fuse is over, he has all the time in the world to build to his heart's content--especially if it's for someone as spectacular as (Y/n).

Now, (Y/n) never stays in one place for a long period of time. In fact, it felt like they left as soon as they came. But the second their hypnotic gaze locked eyes with his as they said they will come back, hope sparked inside him, igniting an everlasting beating heart. That's why as soon as they left, he went right back in his lab to get to work.

Sometimes, he spends hours upon hours just to get something done just right. Not a screw loose or an exterior discolored, not too loud, not too dull--if there's more he could add or fix, by Genndy, he will do it!

Of course, Dexter has a tendency to overdo his passion projects. It's too long before his assistants have noticed he's been stumbling over more than usual and have passed out in exhaustion during important meetings (even the robots comment on the bags under his eyes when he has his back turned). Despite Computress' efforts on getting him to rest, he still keeps going. No matter who tries to persuade him--Ben, Blossom, Bubbles, DeeDee (although, admittedly, she wasn't much help to begin with), Frankie, Kevin, Gwen--he would not stop so long as he had the chance to be the one who sees that gorgeous smile. Not even when Buttercup chained him onto his own bed! (He foresaw the event and built an emergency escape slide)

Ironically, he was working so hard that he didn't even notice that (Y/n) had come back. And the news didn't take long to hit them either. They were furious! He just went through a war and he's working himself to death for no reason?? (Nobody told them that they were the reason why he was putting his health at risk...they didn't want to ruin the surprise <3)

So, in a fit of rage, (Y/n) marched right down to his lab and pulled him right from his desk. First, he was stunned; he thought he was hallucinating and seeing an angel dancing around him, when it was just his now long-time crush flaying their arms around as they scold him like an angry parent. Once reality had settled in, Dexter tries to tell them that he wanted to surprise them, before completely passing out from exhaustion: "Because who wouldn't want to see th-that...cute...smile...a-again-"

He passes out in their arms

A few hours later, Dexter wakes up to see (Y/n) holding him in his room, and ac the cool, composed man of science he is, he freaks out until he tumbles off the bed and collapses onto the floor. He stutters out questions, face completely covered in blush while his glasses fog up

But (Y/n), on the other hand, only giggles and walks toward him. Before he knows it, she plants a kiss on his lips. "Computress kinda...told me everything, after you passed out.

"So...I presume you...feel the same?"

"...I always have." They stand up, putting their hands on their hips. "BUT! If we're going to be together in A-NY sort of way, you have to promise to take care of yourself. No more pulling all-nighters, Mister...whatever-your-last-name-is!!"

Dexter stays still, stunned. Then, he smiles. "Deal. ...Thank you, (Y/n)."

They sit back now and let him lean into their shoulder. "Of course, you dummy." They admire the sight as he slowly falls back to sleep.

That's how the two officially came to be, and they've been almost inseparable ever since. (Y/n) decided that they wanted him to come along with them as they explore every dimension imaginable. Dexter couldn't contain his excitement and practically packed his entire lab. He even made their own "DimenShip" (A space ship designed for interdimensional travel; built to withstand every environment, atmosphere, and ecosystem that may or may not exist. It even comes with an old-school VHS player! He loves those, and (Y/n) thinks it's adorable)

(Y/n) always loves to see him wake up filled with excitement. He has new requests on where to go to every day, whether it's the past or another dimension made up entirely of computers and technology! (There was, and it's safe to say that they've lived there for a while...)

Occasionally, they'd stop to sniff the roses. If Dexter spotted a place that's perfect for a romantic moment, he'd practically lock them in the DimenShip as he sets up a nice little dinner between the two. Once (Y/n) gets mad enough to break the door down with their magical pocket watch (which not only lets them travel through space and time and glow a cool (f/c) color, but can also turn into a giant spiked ball whenever they want it to), they see nothing but a date from a cheesy romantic movie... A picnic with a display of their favorite food and sweets on top of a picnic blanket with two suns setting in the background of a black and white sky... two candles side-by-side of the picnic basket underneath the pink and lavender curling tree...and Dexter, with his hands folded behind his back as he has that stupid, lovable snarky smile on his face.

The first thing they'd do is pout at him, then run at him and tackle him onto the ground. They cover his stupid laughing face with kisses as they complain about him locking them in the DimenShip when he could just tell them to cover their eyes or look the other way.

"Then I wouldn't get this special treatment, mon amour~"

"Oh will you SHUT UP YOU FREAKIN'- ROMANTIC BASTARD-"

They'd laugh as they roll across the glowing grass, and he'd finally stop them as he presses his lips onto theirs. They'd press their foreheads together as their fingers intertwine, and when he finally leans back... "I love you, bunny."

And (Y/n) would smile, taking one of his hands and taking off the glove. As they caress the scars, they whisper, "I love you too, dummy."

(He'd call you bunny because of the whole "dimension hop" thing, hAH-!)

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I had a lot of fun making this, actually... It was a little intimidating to do because of what just happened recently, but I actually really liked making this. So.. thank you for requesting this. I can't say that a part two is guaranteed but MAYBE!! if I have an idea, I will definitely post a part 2!! And if there are any questions/requests ;3

........This man is my weakness I want a Dex so bad-

[aclosetfan]

HIIII, I know it's completely random to come and ask about this, but curiosity was already killing me! I really wanted to know your favorite fanfics/users about our community of 5 rises from the shadows every 1 fanart posted per year 🤩 (Laughing at the misery)

But anyway, I'm just asking because you'll always be my favorite even after years, for me no one will ever be able to understand and write the characters exactly the way I imagine you do, and I wanted to know a little more about your point of view on PPG fanfics/creators. (Please never stop even with random headcanons during the week because I need them to make my month happier and survive in this fandom 😭)

The main question is right in the first part, but I just wanted to be able to express a little bit how much I love your profile, even though I'm not very good with words... Thanks for reading this far! ♡ (Sorry if I got some words wrong, English is not my first language and it doesn't even make the top 3. This is my first question on this app, i'm hoping to make a comeback, so please ignore the mistakes for I can sleep peacefully tonight 😀 God I'm addicted to emojis)

Thank you so much! <3 This is so sweet! Really, it means a lot that you like my characterizations so much. It took a lot of practice :) Please don’t apologize for anything!! gosh, this is such a hard ask because there are literally only five people, like you said 😂😂 I feel like I’ve been out of the game for a bit, so if there’s been any new exciting fan stuff, I haven’t seen it.

When it comes to favorite users, I’ve made a lot of friends over the years. A lot of those people have deactivated or moved on after CW announced their show, so, for simplicity, I’m not going to name anyone because I’d feel bad leaving someone out. But truly, I’ve liked everyone I’ve had the opportunity to talk and bond over the show with. The little corner I’ve hung out with is a good group, and it’s nice to still see old faces pop up every once in a while. If anything, I haven't deleted or let go of this blog because I don’t want all the fun posts we’ve made to go too. I like them being somewhere, and it’s still important to me.

With respect to fics I’ll give you three! Whenever I’m asked this, I always link The Notion of Loss by Gold Scribbles (completed). It’s one of my faves. It’s dark. There’s major character death, and it’s not cutesy (which is what I prefer), but I loved loved loved the characterizations.

My next fave fic is no longer available 😭 (or at the very least, I can no longer find it). The premise involves the rrb coming back. Their goal was to kill the girls. They jumped Bubbles to get their attention and attacked her to the point of disfigurement. Of course, Buttercup and Blossom are out for blood via enhanced antidote-X. They end up capturing Boomer as bait (call back to the og show), and are able to fight Brick and Butch. Buttercup kills but not without Butch doing the classic “See, you’re as bad as me! Haha!” which she ends up internalizing in the post-time skip. Blossom ends up killing Brick but at the sacrifice of her own life, which is the only way to stop him, and the scene where she comes to peace with things is heart-wrenching. The epilogue shows Buttercup lamenting over Butch’s last words and honoring her sister by finishing her work. Bubbles, with scarring that never healed, visits Boomer in jail, who she sees every week to spend time with him. She’s kind and polite because she believes he can be better, and it drives him crazy. AND I LOVVVVEEED IT. But it’s gone now. And it hurts.

My third rec is Pencils Tell a Little Too Much by Iminaloine (completed). It's a Butch-centric fic that explores how he's able to channel his anger and more intense emotions through art, which is 10/10!!

And because one of my fic recs doesn't have a link, here's 2 extra! everybody screams at the end of the world by fuckin-rodent (incomplete). While it's incomplete, it sets up a post-apocalyptic story like no other. I also really like heartsickness by the same author, which is a greens story.

Finally, while I don’t want to stop making stuff for you, I’ve obviously slowed down :(( The blog's still on hiatus; I'm sorry! I finished school and have recently started a new job. I don't know when I'll have time to more consistently update, which I know I've been saying for years now, but that's just growing up sometimes :/ And because I've been so busy, I'm feeling pretty uninspired about things. I haven't written anything new in months for any of my own writing projects or fandoms.

I do have another fan blog for my general fan interests that I sometimes write on (justanotherfanwriter). I can't guarantee you'll find something you like, but I'm more active on there solely because that's where I reblog a larger variety of fan content and sometimes write one-shots for other fandoms. But when it comes to the fics, again, I haven't been very inspired, so there isn't much there. It's pretty devoid of my own content, actually. So, I don't have many friends through that blog!

I also have a side blog for my own writing projects, but that has a dismal, like, 10 posts on it because I've got nothing up in my brain rn. Also, it's harder to write when you have no friends to brainstorm with! I def need more friends who'd talk about personal projects with me, not just fanfics!! If anyone has made it this far down the post, let me know if this is something you'd be interested in (just for shits and giggles at this point nothing serious)

[averysexyleon]

in which ethan takes on eveline finally

only took thirty chapters but listen linda I had smut to get out of the way first

Ethan lay awake, stroking Karl’s back as the larger man lay unceremoniously sprawled on top of him.  His thoughts drifted aimlessly as he listened to Heisenberg’s breathing.  After pleasant memories of the last hour, his memory turned toward their time together before.  What had Miranda said?  She had been aware of her own memory loops, the visions that Eva showed Ethan.  But she had welcomed them. 

Ethan knew that by erasing Mia from his mind, Miranda had also erased the tragedy of Dulvey from his mind.  Erased the miserable time he’d spent here in Romania away as well.  Had she not done that, he probably would have been stuck in a memory loop, not fond memories from his adult life.  No, his 'memory loop' prison was definitely Louisana.  Just like Eveline was, he realized with a pause, his pale fingers ceasing their movement over the dark, scarred skin of Karl’s back.  

“What, Buttercup,” Karl growled with his face shoved into the blankets.  

Ethan blinked in surprise that the man hadn’t been asleep, and went back to the light touch.  It soothed whatever animal instinct Heisenberg had, was a sure way to calm him after a heated moment.  So far, anyway.  Ethan wanted to bring up to the other that he seemed to get more animalistic as time went by, but it seemed like a strange thing to say.  

Instead he thought about the memory loops.  “You sure seemed to know a lot about the mold and crystals earlier,” he began simply.  

Karl didn’t move his face.  His voice was muffled.  “Yeah.”

It seemed guarded, almost as if Karl would be offended at the insinuation he knew more than others.  But of course he did, why wouldn’t he?

Ethan ignored the feeling.  “Do you know anything about why people would get stuck in a memory loop?”

Karl exhaled, his breath warm on Ethan’s chest and shoulder.  Still muffled.  “Mold’s like a circuit.  Pushes memories around like current.  You don’t take care of a circuit…the wiring, gets bad.  Damaged.”

“Like a short circuit?” Ethan said, interested, and Karl made a half-nod half-shrug.  

“Feedback loop,” the engineer mumbled, his voice heavy with sleep.  “System tryin’ to fix.  What’s wrong.  Goin’ over the points that caused the problem.  Just goin’....in circles.”

He was dozing off, but Ethan had one more question, which he asked quietly.  “Why didn’t you have any of that when you were crystallized?  The cadou?”

Karl shrugged again, and his breathing now steadied.  He was asleep.  Ethan smiled to himself and closed his own eyes. 

He could hear sobbing.  When he awoke, he was outside in damp, humid air.  It was pouring rain, lightning filling the sky all around him.  

Yuck.  Louisiana.  He could hear Eveline’s taunting laughter, echoing.  

Ethan’s scowl was part of his features every time he came here unwillingly.  He rose from the grass, blinking to see the light of Zoe’s trailer nearby.  Instead of going there, he headed into the kitchen.  Ethan had been in the house so many times--Eveline brought him here.  And he always left.  It was easy.  

For the first time he made the conscious choice to go in. 

It was surprisingly clean and cozy inside; he could hear the screaming scuffle from upstairs though, and now he ventured into the dining area, sensing Eveline.  She was curled into a ball sitting on the ground with her old, twisted grandma form sitting at the table.  Ethan gazed at her, listening to what sounded like Jack restraining, and then choking, Marguerite.  Something glass shattered.  

Eveline’s own voice echoed in the room.  “THEY’RE MINE NOW.”

“Eveline,” Ethan sighed, moving tentatively forward.  Out of curiosity he stared at his own hand.  In this consciousness it was stapled together.  The blond stared at it, wondering if he could manipulate his body here.  As he stared, willing the tissue to heal, the staples popped out, and new skin moved to cover the horrific scars.  

Running footsteps overhead.  A crash, a scream.  

She looked up at Ethan with something only described as hatred on her face.  He sat down beside her on the floor, his scowl still heavy as he leaned his head against the warped wallpaper.  

“Is this really the part you want to remember?” he asked after a few moments of chaos.  “When they all went crazy?”

She scowled.  “What do you care?”

“I care because I get dragged into this, and I want to know how to stop it,” he said honestly.  

She made a noise, and the lights flickered.  Ethan could sense the Bakers’ panic, anger, malice.  All emotions he was now feeling in a new way.  They coursed through him, raging like the storm outside.  

“They were supposed to be mine,” she said in a tight voice.  Then Eveline yelled, causing the sounds of the storm to reverberate even more loudly in Ethan’s mind.  “MINE TO PLAY WITH.” 

He could hear Marguerite shrieking.  THAT GIRL’S OUR FAMILY NOW, AND WE’RE HERS. 

“Pretty fucked up family,” Ethan said casually, stretching one long leg onto the dark tile, his arm draped over his other knee.  

“I hate you so much,” Eveline began.  

“Because I have the family you wanted?” he guessed.  “A daughter that I…treat well.” 

“I hate her too,” Eveline concluded.  “I hate all of you!  Did you see the picture of them together?”

Jack was chasing someone….Zoe? Through the house.  How was Zoe here?  Ethan realized the Mold had catalogued her too, or perhaps it was Jack’s memory.  The man rushed past them, not seeming to see either of them.  Despite Ethan’s exhaustion with the entire situation he still got goosebumps at the sight of the man.  

“The…picture of Mia and Miranda?  With you?”  Ethan finally turned away from the light on in the kitchen to stare at Eveline.  The scene flickered, the room darkening even more.  YOU’RE GONNA HAVE A LITTLE SISTER ZOE, Marguerite called from the living area.  

“I saw it,” Ethan confirmed, disgust evident in his voice.  He actually put an arm on Eveline’s shoulder.  “Eveline, I’m sorry for what they did to you.  Mia.  Miranda.  Every sick motherfucker in that place that experimented on you…with you.”  

“I was never supposed to be born,” Eveline said in an even more hate-filled voice.  The house changed around them, morphing into the mold-covered rotten husk it was when Ethan reached it.  He curled his lip, and then drew his leg up as if disgusted to be sitting in such filth.  

“I know that somewhere, you understand that you were wronged, but not by these people,” Ethan offered.  “I don’t know if you can feel their feelings, but I can.  The terror they feel, being trapped doing these things.”  Well, not Lucas, but fuck Lucas.  

“I don’t care,” she said.  “Go away, leave me alone.”

With this, she vanished, and Ethan only heard the racket in the house grow louder and more furious.  Jack was brutally beating someone.  With a twist of his stomach, Ethan stood and paused, wondering how to proceed.  It wasn’t just Eveline’s memories.  How could he reach Jack?

He crossed the living area, opening the door to the backyard, and listened to the rain.  There it was again.  The sobbing.  Even over Eveline’s maniacal laughing and the screams of some unknown victim, he could hear Jack pleading to him as he always did.  His wife, as well.  He’d seen them once before.  Long ago, on the ship.  How could he get back there? 

Ethan knew that Eva had limited access to Eveline’s world.  Eveline was something of a master puppeteer in her own right, but Ethan had done it before.  

He looked around at the overgrown yard, tapping his foot impatiently.  Why couldn’t things just…appear?  But the Mold was a network, right?  Were there voices in here, catalogued just as in Romania?  Ethan closed his eyes, feeling stupid.  Anytime you want to chime in now, he thought aloud.  

Jack is in his house.  

Now his eyes shot open and he turned toward the door.  The normally blue-black grime that covered Eveline’s liminal space was gone.  Now the sun filtered in through the rain, giving a golden aura to the place.  Sobbing was closer now.  Indeed, it came from inside.  Shit, that was easy.  

Stunned, Ethan pulled open the door and was surprised to see Jack and Marguerite holding each other.  They broke apart, shocked, at the sight of the scowl-wearing blond.  Jack stood, causing Ethan to flinch, and he realized instantly that the man was harmless.  He was different.  

“Oh my god, Ethan,” Jack said, and seemed at a loss.  “I…I never thought…God help me,” 

“It’s okay,” Ethan said, realizing that a ghost-like image of Zoe paced behind the couch.  He pointed, approaching the living room.  “She’s…only a memory?”

“That’s right,” Jack said.  “My memory.  My sweet girl.”  

Looking upset, the ghost of Zoe left the room.  Jack crumpled again, sitting on the couch and looking miserable as Ethan hesitantly sat across from him.  “Jesus Christ, son, I’m so sorry.  So goddamned sorry.”

“We never wanted…we never….I hope you know....,” Marguerite intercepted, looking every bit as miserable as Jack.  

To his surprise, Ethan heard himself say, “Yeah. I know.”  The only reason he knew was sensing, feeling their emotions.  Guilt.  Disgust.  Horror.  Absolute horror at the things they’d done.  He stared at the couple, scowl still cemented on his face.  

“But you…you came back.”  Jack shook his head.  “How?  Did you die?”

“A few times,” Ethan said with a hint of humor.  “But no, I can…travel.  The way Eveline did when she was alive, I guess.”

“I see,” Jack said, in a tone that said he didn’t see at all.  “So…Eveline is dead?”  Even her name was said in a hushed, worried tone, as though she might burst in the door at any moment.  Marguerite looked hopeful.  

“In the real world, yeah,” Ethan said, feeling as though he’d never had a more bizarre conversation in his entire life.  “I killed her.  But this place…”

“It’s hell,” Jack interrupted, another sob threatening to build up in him.  He ground his teeth instead.  “It’s hell, is what it is.  Torture.  Constant.  I don't even know how long we been here..”

“I think I can…take it away?”  Ethan’s tone was uncertain, but he had confidence just based on getting here.  “I think there’s a way to remove…memories, in the Mold.  I could try, if you want.”

“Oh god, more than anything,” Jack said, and his wife nodded, looking too exhausted to speak.  

Ethan eyed them both.  “You know what that would mean, right?  I think it would mean…you’d…cease to exist at all.”

“Livin’ trapped like this ain’t livin’ Ethan, I’m beggin’ you.” 

“Okay,” the blond said, standing.  “I’ll…try.”  Just as he inhaled, prepared to ask whatever consciousness existed for help again, Jack interrupted.  

“I…can I ask you one thing, Ethan?”

“Sure.”

“Zoe.  Is she?”

“She’s doing great,” Ethan said with a small smile, the first he’d ever given to the man.  “She has a good job.  We talk on the phone sometimes.”  And once in the Mold, weirdly.  But he didn’t add that.  

“You let her know her Mom and Dad love her more than anything,” Marguerite forced out in a hoarse voice.  “And that we are so sorry.”

“I’ll tell her,” Ethan offered, his tone and scowl softening completely.  “I promise.”

Just as he inhaled to focus a second time, the sound of a door being kicked in came from the dining room.  

‘YOU'RE STUPID, AND NOW YOU'RE HERE AND TRYING TO TAKE AWAY MY PLAYTIME.’

[wintersandthebeast]

30. Feedback Loop

RE8 | Wintersberg | Romance, Slow Burn | Action, Sci-Fi

Link to Master List

Ethan lay awake, stroking Karl’s back as the larger man lay unceremoniously sprawled on top of him.  His thoughts drifted aimlessly as he listened to Heisenberg’s breathing.  After pleasant memories of the last hour, his memory turned toward their time together before.  What had Miranda said?  She had been aware of her own memory loops, the visions that Eva showed Ethan.  But she had welcomed them. 

Ethan knew that by erasing Mia from his mind, Miranda had also erased the tragedy of Dulvey from his mind.  Erased the miserable time he’d spent here in Romania away as well.  Had she not done that, he probably would have been stuck in a memory loop, not fond memories from his adult life.  No, his 'memory loop' prison was definitely Louisana.  Just like Eveline was, he realized with a pause, his pale fingers ceasing their movement over the dark, scarred skin of Karl’s back.  

“What, Buttercup,” Karl growled with his face shoved into the blankets.  

Ethan blinked in surprise that the man hadn’t been asleep, and went back to the light touch.  It soothed whatever animal instinct Heisenberg had, was a sure way to calm him after a heated moment.  So far, anyway.  Ethan wanted to bring up to the other that he seemed to get more animalistic as time went by, but it seemed like a strange thing to say.  

Instead he thought about the memory loops.  “You sure seemed to know a lot about the mold and crystals earlier,” he began simply.  

Karl didn’t move his face.  His voice was muffled.  “Yeah.”

It seemed guarded, almost as if Karl would be offended at the insinuation he knew more than others.  But of course he did, why wouldn’t he?

Ethan ignored the feeling.  “Do you know anything about why people would get stuck in a memory loop?”

Karl exhaled, his breath warm on Ethan’s chest and shoulder.  Still muffled.  “Mold’s like a circuit.  Pushes memories around like current.  You don’t take care of a circuit…the wiring, gets bad.  Damaged.”

“Like a short circuit?” Ethan said, interested, and Karl made a half-nod half-shrug.  

“Feedback loop,” the engineer mumbled, his voice heavy with sleep.  “System tryin’ to fix.  What’s wrong.  Goin’ over the points that caused the problem.  Just goin’....in circles.”

He was dozing off, but Ethan had one more question, which he asked quietly.  “Why didn’t you have any of that when you were crystallized?  The cadou?”

Karl shrugged again, and his breathing now steadied.  He was asleep.  Ethan smiled to himself and closed his own eyes. 

------------------------

He could hear sobbing.  When he awoke, he was outside in damp, humid air.  It was pouring rain, lightning filling the sky all around him.  

Yuck.  Louisiana.  He could hear Eveline’s taunting laughter, echoing.  

Ethan’s scowl was part of his features every time he came here unwillingly.  He rose from the grass, blinking to see the light of Zoe’s trailer nearby.  Instead of going there, he headed into the kitchen.  Ethan had been in the house so many times--Eveline brought him here.  And he always left.  It was easy.  

For the first time he made the conscious choice to go in. 

It was surprisingly clean and cozy inside; he could hear the screaming scuffle from upstairs though, and now he ventured into the dining area, sensing Eveline.  She was curled into a ball sitting on the ground with her old, twisted grandma form sitting at the table.  Ethan gazed at her, listening to what sounded like Jack restraining, and then choking, Marguerite.  Something glass shattered.  

Eveline’s own voice echoed in the room.  “THEY’RE MINE NOW.”

“Eveline,” Ethan sighed, moving tentatively forward.  Out of curiosity he stared at his own hand.  In this consciousness it was stapled together.  The blond stared at it, wondering if he could manipulate his body here.  As he stared, willing the tissue to heal, the staples popped out, and new skin moved to cover the horrific scars.  

Running footsteps overhead.  A crash, a scream.  

She looked up at Ethan with something only described as hatred on her face.  He sat down beside her on the floor, his scowl still heavy as he leaned his head against the warped wallpaper.  

“Is this really the part you want to remember?” he asked after a few moments of chaos.  “When they all went crazy?”

She scowled.  “What do you care?”

“I care because I get dragged into this, and I want to know how to stop it,” he said honestly.  

She made a noise, and the lights flickered.  Ethan could sense the Bakers’ panic, anger, malice.  All emotions he was now feeling in a new way.  They coursed through him, raging like the storm outside.  

“They were supposed to be mine,” she said in a tight voice.  Then Eveline yelled, causing the sounds of the storm to reverberate even more loudly in Ethan’s mind.  “MINE TO PLAY WITH.” 

He could hear Marguerite shrieking.  THAT GIRL’S OUR FAMILY NOW, AND WE’RE HERS. 

“Pretty fucked up family,” Ethan said casually, stretching one long leg onto the dark tile, his arm draped over his other knee.  

“I hate you so much,” Eveline began.  

“Because I have the family you wanted?” he guessed.  “A daughter that I…treat well.” 

“I hate her too,” Eveline concluded.  “I hate all of you!  Did you see the picture of them together?”

Jack was chasing someone….Zoe? Through the house.  How was Zoe here?  Ethan realized the Mold had catalogued her too, or perhaps it was Jack’s memory.  The man rushed past them, not seeming to see either of them.  Despite Ethan’s exhaustion with the entire situation he still got goosebumps at the sight of the man.  

“The…picture of Mia and Miranda?  With you?”  Ethan finally turned away from the light on in the kitchen to stare at Eveline.  The scene flickered, the room darkening even more.  YOU’RE GONNA HAVE A LITTLE SISTER ZOE, Marguerite called from the living area.  

“I saw it,” Ethan confirmed, disgust evident in his voice.  He actually put an arm on Eveline’s shoulder.  “Eveline, I’m sorry for what they did to you.  Mia.  Miranda.  Every sick motherfucker in that place that experimented on you…with you.”  

“I was never supposed to be born,” Eveline said in an even more hate-filled voice.  The house changed around them, morphing into the mold-covered rotten husk it was when Ethan reached it.  He curled his lip, and then drew his leg up as if disgusted to be sitting in such filth.  

“I know that somewhere, you understand that you were wronged, but not by these people,” Ethan offered.  “I don’t know if you can feel their feelings, but I can.  The terror they feel, being trapped doing these things.”  Well, not Lucas, but fuck Lucas.  

“I don’t care,” she said.  “Go away, leave me alone.”

With this, she vanished, and Ethan only heard the racket in the house grow louder and more furious.  Jack was brutally beating someone.  With a twist of his stomach, Ethan stood and paused, wondering how to proceed.  It wasn’t just Eveline’s memories.  How could he reach Jack?

He crossed the living area, opening the door to the backyard, and listened to the rain.  There it was again.  The sobbing.  Even over Eveline’s maniacal laughing and the screams of some unknown victim, he could hear Jack pleading to him as he always did.  His wife, as well.  He’d seen them once before.  Long ago, on the ship.  How could he get back there? 

Ethan knew that Eva had limited access to Eveline’s world.  Eveline was something of a master puppeteer in her own right, but Ethan had done it before.  

He looked around at the overgrown yard, tapping his foot impatiently.  Why couldn’t things just…appear?  But the Mold was a network, right?  Were there voices in here, catalogued just as in Romania?  Ethan closed his eyes, feeling stupid.  Anytime you want to chime in now , he thought aloud.  

Jack is in his house.  

Now his eyes shot open and he turned toward the door.  The normally blue-black grime that covered Eveline’s liminal space was gone.  Now the sun filtered in through the rain, giving a golden aura to the place.  Sobbing was closer now.  Indeed, it came from inside.  Shit, that was easy.  

Stunned, Ethan pulled open the door and was surprised to see Jack and Marguerite holding each other.  They broke apart, shocked, at the sight of the scowl-wearing blond.  Jack stood, causing Ethan to flinch, and he realized instantly that the man was harmless.  He was different.  

“Oh my god, Ethan,” Jack said, and seemed at a loss.  “I…I never thought…God help me,” 

“It’s okay,” Ethan said, realizing that a ghost-like image of Zoe paced behind the couch.  He pointed, approaching the living room.  “She’s…only a memory?”

“That’s right,” Jack said.  “My memory.  My sweet girl.”  

Looking upset, the ghost of Zoe left the room.  Jack crumpled again, sitting on the couch and looking miserable as Ethan hesitantly sat across from him.  “Jesus Christ, son, I’m so sorry.  So goddamned sorry.”

“We never wanted…we never….I hope you know....,” Marguerite intercepted, looking every bit as miserable as Jack.  

To his surprise, Ethan heard himself say, “Yeah. I know.”  The only reason he knew was sensing, feeling their emotions.  Guilt.  Disgust.  Horror.  Absolute horror at the things they’d done.  He stared at the couple, scowl still cemented on his face.  

“But you…you came back.”  Jack shook his head.  “How?  Did you die?”

“A few times,” Ethan said with a hint of humor.  “But no, I can…travel.  The way Eveline did when she was alive, I guess.”

“I see,” Jack said, in a tone that said he didn’t see at all.  “So…Eveline is dead?”  Even her name was said in a hushed, worried tone, as though she might burst in the door at any moment.  Marguerite looked hopeful.  

“In the real world, yeah,” Ethan said, feeling as though he’d never had a more bizarre conversation in his entire life.  “I killed her.  But this place…”

“It’s hell,” Jack interrupted, another sob threatening to build up in him.  He ground his teeth instead.  “It’s hell, is what it is.  Torture.  Constant.  I don't even know how long we been here..”

“I think I can…take it away?”  Ethan’s tone was uncertain, but he had confidence just based on getting here.  “I think there’s a way to remove…memories, in the Mold.  I could try, if you want.”

“Oh god, more than anything,” Jack said, and his wife nodded, looking too exhausted to speak.  

Ethan eyed them both.  “You know what that would mean, right?  I think it would mean…you’d…cease to exist at all.”

“Livin’ trapped like this ain’t livin’ Ethan, I’m beggin’ you.” 

“Okay,” the blond said, standing.  “I’ll…try.”  Just as he inhaled, prepared to ask whatever consciousness existed for help again, Jack interrupted.  

“I…can I ask you one thing, Ethan?”

“Sure.”

“Zoe.  Is she?”

“She’s doing great,” Ethan said with a small smile, the first he’d ever given to the man.  “She has a good job.  We talk on the phone sometimes.”  And once in the Mold, weirdly.  But he didn’t add that.  

“You let her know her Mom and Dad love her more than anything,” Marguerite forced out in a hoarse voice.  “And that we are so sorry.”

“I’ll tell her,” Ethan offered, his tone and scowl softening completely.  “I promise.”

Just as he inhaled to focus a second time, the sound of a door being kicked in came from the dining room.  

‘YOU'RE STUPID, AND NOW YOU'RE HERE AND TRYING TO TAKE AWAY MY PLAYTIME.’

[notnctu]

jaehyun: the charming

━ welcome home to housemating smut series :)

☆ click the link above to read background info about this housemate!

☆ GENRE: smut, pwp ☆ DETAILS: fem!reader, college!au, housemate!au ☆ WARNINGS: explicit language, nicknames, dirty talking, possessiveness, rough sex, praise kink, oral (giving and receiving), spitting, choking, unprotected (wrap up yall!!) ☆ WC: 4.1k ☆ SYNOPSIS: A harmless game of Truth Or Dare with your housemates reveals Jaehyun’s true desires and has him eyeing you the entire night.

☆ AUTHORS NOTE: this is the only part for jaehyun ! sorry for the long wait,, i started this during my writing hiatus and did not have much motivation to finish it since its been really difficult to write smut lately :/ regardless, i hope you can leave me some feedback if you liked it <3 doyoung’s part will be the next in the series once i get to it !

“If you could kiss anyone in this room right now, who would it be?” Johnny beckons his drink to Jaehyun, who blinks at him with knitted eyebrows and a quizzical expression.

It’s one of those rare nights where all your housemates are home and Doyoung is actually out of his room to participate in everyone’s foolishness. All six of you sit comfortably in the living room as the fifth round of Truth or Dare commences. 

You share the large couch with Jaemin and Haechan, sandwiching you in between them happily. Doyoung, Jaehyun and Johnny are seated in their own respective chairs that circle the tiny coffee table in the center. 

And if your housemates could be any more distracting, Jaehyun sits laid-back without a shirt on and grey sweatpants that fit loosely on his legs, manspreading as if he has all the space in the world. His soft hair falls messily around his face from constantly running his hands through it and his abs flex without him needing to do much.

It’s hard not to stare, but no one in the room calls you out for doing so. They’ve all stared at you plenty enough times on other occasions, so it would be hard for any of them to give you a counterargument. Jaehyun simply looks good enough to devour, and he can say the same for you as he steals sly glances your way.

Every subtle connection of smoldering eye contact sends a thrill down your core, and the smirk paired with his dotted dimple has you swooning for him over and over. Jaehyun knows every way to drive you wild without needing to say or touch you.

It’s unbelievable how that man has only allowed you to see his intimacy once with the way he whistles whenever you walk down the stairs in a cute outfit or how often he compliments your butt just for the pure satisfaction of you having one. Despite having the highest body count in the entire house, he has great self control and never comes off as being too needy. 

And every time he is needy, he already has another girl in his room to satisfy him. So, this never gave you another opportunity to sleep with him as much as you wanted to. If you weren’t so bashful, you might’ve had enough courage to just walk into his room and ask. 

Nonetheless, here you both are: sitting across from each other during a slowly escalating game of Truth or Dare and eyeing each other every chance you can get.

“Shouldn’t you ask y/n that question?” Jaehyun mumbles, finding Johnny’s question rather ridiculous since the ratio in the room is 1 girl to 5 guys and finds no curiosity to know how bad of a kisser the rest of his housemates are. “I think you’d rather know her answer than mine.”

You clear your throat when every attention is drawn toward you, expecting you to give a truthful response when it isn’t even your turn. “What if I didn’t pick truth?”

“You want a dare?” Jaemin rests a hand on your bare thigh and turns delightfully toward you with a dark mischievous gleam in his eye.

Gulping, you try your best to diffuse the situation. “It’s not my turn.” 

“I’ll give my turn to you.” Jaehyun smiles and proceeds to gesture toward you to speak.

Bewildered, you’re looking to Doyoung to protest about such unfair grounds of switching the rules. However, he doesn’t say a word, shrugging it off like it’s not a big deal. “You’re all unbelievable.” You scoff sarcastically.

“C’mon, it’s just a friendly game. Everyone wants you to go.” Haechan clicks his tongue out of impatience, the anticipation practically suffocating the whole house.

“Ask me when it’s my turn.” You stand your ground and send Jaehyun a quick glare. 

The tension drops instantly from the stiff atmosphere. Haechan’s groan erupts beside you as he sits back against the couch with his arms crossed. 

“Okay, buttercup. I’ll answer Johnny’s ridiculous question, but know that I have a good one for you.” Jaehyun leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees with his hands clasped together loosely. “I’d kiss y/n.” 

Your breath hitches, but no one else is actually surprised by his answer. “Yeah, I’d kiss y/n too if this was my selection pool.” Doyoung remarks with a roll in his eyes.

“I mean,” Jaehyun sits back coolly in his chair, hands stretched behind his head and every muscle flexed in view. Every movement has your mouth watering at his impressive body on display. “Even if we were playing with other people, I’d still choose y/n.” A dimple smile causes your heart to beat rapidly.

Johnny scoffs, “if we circled up all your flings, you’d still choose y/n?” 

Jaehyun ponders the hypothetical for a second, but his eyes land back on yours and every hesitation disappears. “Yeah. She has the softest lips.” He says, very matter of fact.

Your fingers unconsciously graze against your lips briefly, before you clear your throat and shake away the power of his arousing words. “Okay, okay. Let’s move on?” 

“Okay, y/n. Truth or Dare?” Jaehyun picks this open opportunity to bring the attention back to you. Your housemates wait patiently for your choice, with eyebrows raised in the thick tension that this simple game has built up.

With shifty eyes and a dry throat, you mutter. “Dare.” 

There is a notable sparkle in Jaehyun’s dark lustful orbs. “I dare you to kiss the person that you think is the hottest in this room.” 

“Well, it would be difficult to kiss myself.” Rolling your eyes, the edge in your tone is enough to make the rest of them snicker. 

“I’m done after this round. It’s always the weirdest twists whenever we play games like this together.” Doyoung crosses his arms, throwing a small fit at the request. 

Johnny smirks, “because you know y/n wouldn’t kiss you?” 

Doyoung’s mouth opens to protest, but he falls short of a defensive response. He takes his defeat and slumps back against the chair, pouty and grumpy. “Just get it over with and kiss Jaehyun.” 

With a turn of events, you get up from your spot on the couch. Jaehyun follows your every move, your stare never leaving his own. Like a lost puppy, you lead him into thinking the kiss would be for him. However, you lean forward and hold Doyoung’s chin gently, planting a soft kiss on the equally shocked boy. 

“I think Doyoung is the hottest because he treats me with the most chivalry.” The sweetness that taints your mocking words has Doyoung turning red and Jaehyun turning into stone. The charming smile that lights up your darkest parts is gone, and Jaehyun blinks back at you with a tight jaw. 

Jaemin and Haechan read the room too well, excusing themselves before the tension reaches its peak. Doyoung gulps, glancing between you and Jaehyun, and awkwardly makes his way back to his room. Johnny chuckles at the abrupt end of the night, patting Jaehyun’s shoulder lightly before also heading up to bed. 

Every next move is crucial. With your weight barred on your left leg, you cross your arms with as much attitude as you can to push Jaehyun’s buttons further. “Jaehyun, if you really wanted a kiss, you could just ask me without wasting a turn.”

“Where’s the fun in that, buttercup? You clearly like testing your limits.” His voice drops at the end of his sentence. Jaehyun stands up, approaching you slowly. “But if you want my attention, you could just ask me without trying to make me jealous.”

His boldness catches you off guard, leaving you a bit speechless to formulate a proper explanation. Your hesitation gets caught in your throat when Jaehyun lightly places his hand on your waist. “It’s late, we should probably get to bed.” His raspy baritone cadence rumbles your chest.

Fingers graze his arm softly, but he pulls away before you can get a hold of him. “Are you actually going to sleep?”

Jaehyun walks to the bottom of the staircase, motioning you to walk first. “No, I’ll be up thinking about you.” A smirk finishes his sensual taunt and you cautiously head up the stairs. 

He follows directly after you and a whistle escapes his lips. “Have I given you your daily ass compliment yet?”

“Got one this morning.” With each step, Jaehyun is quick to match. 

“Well, you look amazing everyday.” He meets you at the top of the steps and when you’re ready to part back into your room, he stops you. “Where’s my kiss goodnight, baby?” 

You can’t possibly count the numerous times you’ve rolled your eyes being around him. “In my room, if you dare wish to enter.” Though your statement was clearly sarcastic, Jaehyun raises an questionable eyebrow. 

“I’ll only come if you let me in.” His innocent eyes do not match his sinister tone and his hidden innuendos. 

“I guess I always go into your room, it would be nice to have a change.” Taking his hand, you lead him down the hallway. The doors of your other housemates are oddly closed, but you figured they wanted some privacy. His warm hand feels rough against your palm and your heart drums as you two inch closer to your bedroom.

Jaehyun gently closes your door and examines your room as if he’s never been inside. “Don’t be a stranger.” You say, dropping his hand and sitting at the edge of your bed.

“Do you leave your underwear drawer open for all your friends to see?” He snickers, his pinky holding your special red lace panties up in the air. Your eyes go wide as you quickly yank the material out of his possession and shove the cabinet closed.

“I wouldn’t have figured you were the nosey type.” You grumble, but he takes this close proximity to pull you into his bare chest. His firm hand gives your ass a soft squeeze.

“It was quite obviously on display.” His dark whisper sends a chill down your spine and butterflies to swirl in the pit of your core. The faint smell of his body wash suffocates you all around and his sultry stare has you melting in his hands. It is so difficult to resist him, you want everything that is Jung Jaehyun.

Your words are quite possibly caught in your throat, but the hesitation does not show in your expression. Lightly, your fingertips trace the outline of his biceps and his dark stare follows every drag. Admittedly, Jaehyun will find any excuse to grab your attention. Call him possessive for no good reason, but something inside him bubbles with envy whenever your other housemates even leave a lingering stare.

Although he’s not the type to be vocal about it, his facial expressions speak volumes. May it be his competitive nature, but he can’t let the others have you. You have unknowingly become off-limits to the rest, but frankly, you don’t care all too much. Your prize is already in front of you.

“Are you going to kiss me or do I have to wait all night again?” With every will, you try your best to control the nervous tremble in your bold rhetorical question.

Jaehyun wastes no more time; soft lips crash into your own and you feel like you’re floating. Only he can make you feel this way. Hands in hair, the tug on his fresh locks has him moaning through the kiss. Jaehyun loses himself in you, rubbing his semi-hard cock against your thigh and gripping your ass harshly in his hand.

Every drip of saliva is swapped in the mess of your connected mouths and you’re reminded of how rough this man enjoys to be. Your knees buckle at the thought of him and Jaehyun is quick to hold you up, placing you strategically at the end of your bed. 

Pulling away, he stands in front of you with the largest dick print against his sweatpants, along with a small wet spot. There are no bashful words exchanged as the room is filled with heavy breathing and sultry looks. Jaehyun guides your hand to his waistband, silently waiting for you to free him.

Looking up at your beautiful boy, the neediness of release almost ruins his perfect charming look. Hair is tousled wildly across his eyes and his bottom lip escapes underneath the top row of his pearly teeth. He just looks so fucked out already, you can’t imagine how much he was holding back earlier.

You pull down enough of his pants for his dick to spring up right in front of you, not expecting the lack of underwear. Your small gasp cause him to chuckle, pushing the back of your head forward toward his hard cock. “Surprised?”

“You weren’t wearing underwear the entire night?” You question him as your hands cup his balls. A sharp intake of breath is his only response before he can compose himself. 

Through gritted teeth, Jaehyun stutters, “Like you were?” He throws his head back when your warm tongue flicks against his throbbing red tip. Every vein in his arm and neck pops on display as he grabs a hold of your hair.

“You wouldn’t know.” You snicker, running your tongue up and down his shaft. Jaehyun looks back down at your piercing eyes and his dick right above your cheek.

A smirk grows devilishly, “I’m about to find out.” Pushing your shoulder back gently, your back lands comfortably on the mattress. Your heart is racing as Jaehyun gets down on his knees, situating himself in between your open legs.

“May I?” He asks, warm hands on your inner thighs as he patiently waits for your answer.

“Yes.” Jaehyun pulls your shorts down to reveal your favorite comfort cotton panties that have faded from their original color. Naturally, you grow embarrassed and quickly slap your legs closed before Jaehyun can process. 

He blinks at you questionably, quite taken aback by the abrupt motion. “Are you okay?”

“Let’s just say I wasn’t completely expecting to sleep with anyone tonight. I’m not quite prepared down there.” Your gaze drops and you anxiously fist your sheets in your sweaty hands.

Jaehyun nods, understanding your implications. “I don’t care about those things. You are…” landing a quick peck on your bare knee, he rubs reassuring circles with his thumb. “.... the prettiest baby ever. And if you’d let me, buttercup, I want to make you feel good.” 

He has always been suave with his words, as if he knows the handbook to get butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Slowly, your legs open back up before him and the slightest groan rumbles from his throat.

The wet patch on your panties is hard to ignore and he’s mesmerized, to say the least. He peels down your underwear and uses his thumb to spread your lips. Leaning forward, Jaehyun lightly licks at your erect clit and your twitch in response is enough to feed into his ego. 

He dives hungrily, eating you out until your eyes roll to the back of your head and your back is arching off of the bed. He flattens his tongue against you, pushing in and out of your dripping hole in a rhythmic motion. His nose is deep in your skin, intoxicated by your arousal, and his eyes are drinking up your uncontrollable reactions.

It’s as if electricity shocks through your lower half. The pleasure that comes with every lick and sweet suckle has you panting for more. His name echoes from your tender lips while Jaehyun inserts two fingers to stretch you out. The initial ache subsides into an indescribable pleasure; it’s the feeling of being full of anything mixing with the sensitivity of tongue against clit that has you practically on the verge of release. 

Jaehyun isn’t going to give it to you that easily. The moment your moans grow bolder, your legs begin to shake, your hand putting a little more pressure on his head, he pulls away and gets up. A desperate sigh crushes your chest as the build up leads to dissatisfaction. Jaehyun wipes his chin with the back of his hand, his two fingers glistening before being shoved into your own mouth. 

“That’s my good girl, give yourself a taste.” His hot words cause you to flood a bit more, the feeling of wetness pooling at your core. However, you two toy each other with no end as he is provoked by the way your tongue sensually swirls around his digits and how your hips keep squirming closer to the edge. “How badly do you want to get fucked?”

His firm hand holds your moving hips into the bed and you’re aching to be filled with his dick. He’s so hard that it slaps against his abdomen, red tip and spewing precum. Nonetheless, his self restraint is quite strong as he notices the defeat in your expression. Enough teasing, your body wants him endlessly. 

“Jaehyun, I want you to give me all that you got.” At the end of your request, he enters you slowly with a breathy moan. The stretch is much more than his two fingers, causing you to squirm and wiggle. Inch by inch, Jaehyun fills you to your brim and pauses for you to adjust to his size. 

“Fuck, it’s been awhile since we’ve slept together. I almost forgot how tight you are.” How could this man possibly smile with so much innocence while saying such foul things? The next action causes you to go a bit dizzy as he spits down at your clit and rubs it lovingly with his thumb. You practically see stars on your mundane ceiling. 

He starts moving his hips, deep long thrusts pulling out to only sharply fill you up again. Jaehyun is relentless as every thrust forward has you moving more and more up the bed. Your legs are pressed against your chest, folding you over to hit your sweet spot. When his tip grazes upon the greatest feeling ever, your grip on the sheets grows tighter and he’s smirking at how your mouth hangs open in pure ecstasy and shock.

“You’re so good at taking my cock.” He pants, moving faster than before. “My baby hasn’t been fucked properly in a while, has she?”

You’re at a loss for words at every drag and push. Regardless of you wanting to speak, no words seem to make its way out. Jaehyun narrows his eyes at you, dark grin and a menacing taunt in his low voice. A chuckle begins his sentence, “I know… it’s hard to talk when you feel so good right, buttercup? I can feel you getting more excited down there.”

Placing your legs around his waist, he leans down over you. His sneaky hand travels up your torso, giving your boobs a light squeeze through your shirt. Then, he wraps his hand around your neck gently and carefully, only applying enough pressure to drive you wild. 

He breaks his rhythm, reverting back to the previous slow pace. Something about the way you feel around him, hot and tight, needy and wet. Jaehyun just loves how your body reacts.

The feeling of soreness occupies your lower half and you’re more than certain it’s going to be rough tomorrow morning. Every thrust is agonizing, yet powerful enough to be felt in your guts. Jaehyun never fails to leave an impression.

Through your moans, you manage to stutter out his name. “Please, harder.” Jaehyun picks you up, hands supporting your butt and pressing your back against your door. Placing your legs down, you’re standing up right facing him with a confused expression at the change of location.

For a brief moment, his lustful glare is warm and friendly. It’s the same look that greets you in the car when he drives you two to campus. It’s the one he often looks at you with across the dinner table, usually accompanied with his robust laughter. Jaehyun looks at you as if he’s only ever seen you.

However, his next words are far from romantic and his hand finds its way to your throat, pinning you up against the cold door. “I want them to hear how good I fuck you.” Them. The rest of your housemates. Knowing that the house is far from soundproof, Jaehyun wants everyone to know how enthusiastic he makes you feel. 

“But--” As you begin to protest, he drives his hips up and nestles into you. His free hand grips your waist steadily as he barely pulls out, fucking you deeper until you feel him at the pit of your stomach. There is no ability to hold back your pleasure, moans just naturally fill the room and bounce off every wall.

“Cum for me, I know you’re close.” Jaehyun has no intentions to stop, the feeling of both releases being at the tip of your tongues. “Be the good girl that you are and cum for me.”

The small bubble inside of you is ready to burst. Jaehyun sucks on his fingers to coat them with saliva and reaches down to stroke at your clit. Like a switch, your internal light bulb explodes and every spark of electricity fuels your every vein. 

Your orgasm electrifies you, causing every limb to shake uncontrollably and sporadically. Jaehyun keeps thrusting up, helping you ride out the intensity of your high. 

“There you go, baby.” A small kiss on your shoulder, he pulls out and the emptiness is felt immediately. Getting on your knees, you take his cock in your mouth to help him finish. He rests his fists on the door, hovering over you as his abs flex beautifully under the fluorescent light. Hollowing out your cheeks, your throat invites him deeper and this causes him to mindlessly thrust into your mouth. 

Jaehyun sounds breathy above you, whining about how close he is to cumming. Silence in the room has been replaced with his heavy pants and soft groans, the sound of suckling and slick saliva droning out anything else.

“Fuck, y/n.” He says, as he holds your cheek in his palm and maintains eye contact with you through his brown locks. The view of his dick being swallowed up in your mouth is more than enough to drive him to his edge, strings of cum coating the back of your throat from his release. The saltiness immediately hits your palette.

Jaehyun tosses his head back until the satisfaction dissipates. Slowly pulling himself out, he moves quickly to find you a tissue. For a moment, neither one of you speak as he silently dresses himself and you wipe the remaining spit off of your lips.

He helps you up from the floor, lightly dusting off your bare knees for you. And he says something to break the slightly awkward atmosphere, “are you kicking me out like you do with the rest of your hookups?” Jaehyun laughs, wide smile and dimples deep in his soft cheeks. The glow in his skin radiates in the dimness, he’s a sight that’s too difficult to look away from.

“Did you want to stay?” Tossing on a pair of fresh underwear and pajama shorts, you have a vague memory of Jaehyun holding you after your first fuck together. 

Though Jaehyun is your friend before anything else, he responds like every other hookup unsure about the next steps. He shrugs, turning around and tapping his back for you to hop on. “I’ll take you to the bathroom to wash up.” 

Jumping on his back and wrapping your arms around his neck, he carries you down the hall to the shared bathroom. “You didn’t exactly answer my question.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, knowing how embarrassed you are going to be the next morning when facing the rest of your housemates.

“I know you’re just going to come into my room anyways, right?” He sets you down and the door to the bathroom swings open to reveal an equally surprised Haechan. 

“Shit, you two scared me.” The dramatic boy rests a hand on his chest to calm his startled heart. “You might want to air out the bathroom before doing anything in there.” Jaehyun and Haechan share a laugh as you groan, irritated by the putrid fumes that cursed the poorly ventilated bathroom.

“You’re so gross.” You say, punching Haechan jokingly on the arm.

“Says you.” Haechan pauses to poke at Jaehyun’s bare chest, “and you. We are never playing Truth or Dare ever again.” 

“Don’t hate the players, hate the game bro.” Jaehyun snickers.

Haechan pays no more attention to the two of you, back turned and hurrying into his dark room. “I do hate the game now!” He yells in a whisper, shutting his door to end the conversation. You sigh out of relief that Haechan didn’t press for more details or jokes.

Housemates, you never know what adventures you’d run into with them. Nonetheless, you don’t mind and getting to see a shirtless Jaehyun parade around the house is always a treat.

[goobiegoobert]

Ok yes no im dead..everyone literally ignored asgore LIKE WHAAAAT not only tumblr but tiktok,youtube,ao3 and everywhere else TT like when i told my friends if they heard the name undertale they went "oh you mean sans?" ASGORE

but awweh imagine going on a date with him just you resting ur head on his chest after you two are done drinking tea and watching anime cuz I said so and him playing w ur hair

I have some words w this fandom

OH THANK GOD I WAS READY DO DO EVERYTHING AGAIN but I can't..my..doggy..can't leave ma boy alone smh

HAH I would help u with that..mcpeepaw..no-

Oh btw is ur Internet okay now? Just curious and obviously not hormny

-🧅

Wonderful you came by..

____________________

A/n: Yknow I had to do it man,, it was too good of an opportunity not too, but my internet is still out so I won't be able to post anything huge but I can post smaller stuff!!

Warnings: None!!! Simply pure fluff drabble guys ily all

[ masc!reader | masc pronouns used ]

____________________

With the sun dropping down behind the mountains and moon in the horizon it didn't take much convincing for a resigned king to drop the shears in a now empty watering can to simply stare at the lovely marigolds, stroked by the gentle light as if the world seemed to praise the flowers lovely existence, it caused the monster to let out a deep rumble in response catering back. Albeit odd to some within the gardens he'd spent day and night slaving over for the school their ex-wife taught at. The mere thought sent a twinge of melancholic memories to their poor mind, but it did remind the goat about something further important then twiddling his thumbs about the past.

You.. Oh, his darling, such a sweet boy you were truly. Wondering back into his mind like a tidal wave melted all feeling from his body only to shiver in the chilled air, but he seemed to be growing quite warm in the face with slight color peeking from beneath his sheen white fur. Brushing it off only to become more giddy with their movements as Asgore rushed to put away their tools for tomorrow and begin walking down the street back home, eager to see their little guy stare up at him with those lovely doe eyes, that somehow always seemed to be filled with pure adoration towards the king, oh truly did they feel smitten toward his human.

No matter how you two started, with the distaste and solemn sadness plastered in his being when you'd walked into the flower shop. Only for it to morph in confusion after pushing the bouquet you'd asked for far too many opinion on back into Asgore's hands after paying. Back then the certain fondness the boy had sent him before walking out without much more had left them wondering if you'd come back, and then you had. Every other Wensday you'd walk into the shop to buy flowers from him just to never accept it after paying no matter how much Asgore had seemed to insist upon you taking them. It became routine until the point he'd stop even asking you and plopping them into a vase next to the register with fondness, at least until not showing up for ovee half a year. It was so lonely as each Wensday at 5pm they'd sit in the shop simply awaiting you to walk through those doors just to rest you elbows on the counter with buttercups in hand as you'd compliment the shirt he'd put on that day.

It wasn't until Spring the next year Asgore would be graced to see the boy, who had them hooked from the first honey sweet compliment spilled from your lips slow like molasses driving them mad with curiosity and a certain sadness when it all seemed to go away, but what a joy it was after slipping into the store silently to walk up and hold out flowers you'd been growing in your own backyard in attempts to impress the retired king did realization hit them. Though once he did his precious baby boy pressed many kisses along their face passing soft praise and sweet nothings!

The ingrained memory always seemed to paint a lopsided smile on Asgore's face, once gaining sight of your shared home it took much restraint to simply sprint to the door no matter how much pain it'd cause later. Though with your previous scolding in mind the king had taken their time before breezing inside the home silently as to surprise you, but what he didn't expect was snacks to be on the coffee table and a warm blanket to be on the large couch as a TV was playing those add cartoons with a low volume almost sounding like static to their ears. Asgore couldnt help but feel his heart thump within their ribcage at the sight of you buried between the blankets sleeping peacefully.

Slipping off their shoes next to the couch and trying to lower themselves down beneath the covers with you only to have you stir away with bleary eyes from sleep to have a soft fondness at him being there. Oh such a sweet boy you were, after a few moments of you pressing small kisses to the back of the kings hands and a soft yawn you'd moved to sit in their lap with your legs splayed to once side resting your head on Asgore's chest to listen to their soft heartbeat gently drafting back into a blank nothingness of comfort. It wasn't perfect, nor did you two speak many words. But Asgore wouldn't trade times like this with you for the world.

[incaensio]

trips to the infirmary are no news to her now, almost a month in this. it's part of the job, to make sure she's physically well, as if any flaw possibly found in her blood stream could serve as the reason that she's such a fucking disappointment to the cause. it's one of the few things katniss doesn't mind — not because she's entirely comfortable about being poked and probed (though she has grown apathetic about it) but because it gives her an excuse to come around and watch prim, when she can. there's not much of the routine back home she can do in this place — she doesn't have the nights of rest in her husband's arms, she doesn't have the cheese buns in the morning — and besides buttercup's annoying hounding around prim's bed, the eldest everdeen sister can, at the very least, try to resume bringing her baby sister home every day.

only, she's missed the timestamp again, and prim is in class. katniss wonders if she can make a beeline out of the infirmary when she hears someone, and curiosity gets the best of her even when she realizes what they are doing, and, then, who they are. it's awful to stand there, staring, unable to say a thing; katniss would hate it if anyone did it to her, and she knows it's been done. so she turns on her back, though she does not walk away (yet). she waits for yazmin to regain some semblance of put together-ness, or, well, at least to attempt, but this is harder said than done if her pain is just as torturous as katniss' own is (in a way, she wonders if the silverhorn's is not worse — having to see her wife tortured and picked apart in the arena, and then again, only outside of it? katniss couldn't even get through a five second clip of the things that happened in her own games). "i wasn't." she finds her voice, at last; she takes a little longer to find her words, however. "d'ya wanna me to stay? or i can keep people from comin' in."

@incaensio sent: [ 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 ] ― sender hears receiver crying and approaches comfort them

grief comes in waves. it's the worst when yazmin doesn't have a means of keeping busy. she begs the people in thirteen to keep her schedule packed. there's plenty to do in the infirmary as there are no shortage of refugees needing treatment as well as thirteen residents requiring general care too. it's moments where she's eating dinner alone or doing a nighttime routine before heading to an empty bed that it feels most apparent that amara isn't here.

yazmin hadn't expected it to hit her within infirmary walls. it's day twenty-nine into the rebellion. they're doing a mission, just not one for her wife. it's when one of the refugees from eleven mention that they shouldn't save those in the capitol that gets her today. ( well they all denounced us ... peeta, thea, cecelia ... amara, the person says. ) once she's alone in the room, yazmin wants to scream. instead however, she lets tears flow steadily. they're so salty that it makes her cheeks burn. company hadn't been expected. so soon her features get red from crying and intense embarrassment. silverhorn clears her throat before finally speaking, " katniss ... hello. i think your mom is in the left wing if you're looking for her. "

[softlystarstruck]

good morning

for the @drarrymicrofic prompt “ephemera” (but truly written for my angel @babooshkart 💕) | wc 699 | rated m | smooches to @lou-isfake and @fw00shy for lookin over this | read on ao3

Draco wakes up slowly, wrapped up in warmth more familiar than her own body. She turns in the circle of Harry’s arms, nuzzling into the space between Harry’s armpit and bare breast, even as Harry snuffles and squirms awake.

“Huh?” Harry says thickly, pulling Draco close in that desperate way she has when she’s half asleep. Sometimes Draco wishes Harry would let herself hold the things she wants this tight even when she’s fully awake, but Harry wants so wildly that she’s often scared of it.

Draco blows a raspberry onto Harry’s skin, and Harry giggles, rolling on top of Draco, pinning her down to the mattress. The weight of her body is an easy comfort. Draco wants, too, quieter than Harry does, but just as deeply.

“Good morning, wife,” Harry mumbles against Draco’s neck. Her skin is clammy where it meets Draco’s, sticking as Harry props herself up on her elbows. Her curls are a natural disaster. Draco loves her endlessly.

“Good morning, wife,” Draco replies, giddy at this ritual even after four years. Wife.

“You wanna do breakfast first, or a shower?”

“I need coffee,” Draco says, stretching out her limbs as Harry clambers off the bed, narrowly avoiding stabbing Draco with a rogue elbow. Harry stretches her arms up to the ceiling, her form dark in the curtain-filtered light, but Draco knows how beautiful she is.

They eat at their little kitchen table. Buttercup meows at Draco’s ankles until she gives him a tiny piece of bacon, even as Harry jokes that Draco’s making him a bacon fiend. When they’re done washing up the Muggle way, they step into their pink-tiled bathroom, stripping down and leaving their clothes in a pile on the floor. Harry sleeps hot and refuses to wear a shirt in the house, so all she takes off is her pants. Draco sheds her long silky nightgown and snorts as Harry reaches for her as though unable to help herself.

They wash each other's hair in the shower. Draco slides her fingers through Harry’s short curls; they brush her shoulders when wet, still a bit wild. Harry carefully rubs shampoo into Draco’s long hair. They rarely get time to shower together during the week, so Harry always takes her time during the weekends. She’s obsessed with Draco’s hair anyways, always messing with it when they lay on the couch together. It’s just so golden, she said once, and Draco carries that with her even now. No one had called anything about her golden before.

Harry picks up the body wash bottle and stares down at it thoughtfully before pouring some into her hands. She touches Draco reverently but firm, as though she isn’t breakable. The scent of coconut tangles with the steam of the shower spray. Harry’s brow is furrowed and she exhales, her breath cool on Draco’s wet skin. Draco waits for her to speak, curiosity unfurling in her mind.

“Do you ever think about how things don’t last?” Harry asks as she rubs soap onto Draco’s hips. Her tone is light, and Draco answers cautiously, unsure where Harry’s going with this.

“What do you mean?”

“Like…” Harry twists her face up in concentration as she thumbs teasingly across Draco’s nipples. She moves on, her hands soft on Draco’s biceps. “This body wash bottle will run out, and we’ll have to buy another one. The same with my hair mask, and our toothpaste, and… I don’t know. We just use things up.”

“We do,” Draco replies, considering Harry’s words. She pours body wash into her own palm, kneeling on the shower floor to wash Harry’s legs, the suds catching in the dark hair there. She rubs her hands over Harry’s thighs, soft and dimpled, and she loves Harry so wildly it threatens to cave her chest in. “But some things last.”

“Yeah,” Harry says, then yelps a laugh as Draco lightly smacks her arse and stands up again, resting her chin on Harry’s shoulder. “This will last.”

Draco doesn’t ask her to clarify, instead indulging in all the possibilities encompassed in the word this. “This will last,” she repeats, quieter, and Harry kisses her behind the ear, lips tender in their familiarity.

[hyperfix8tionst8tion]

New Girl (Part 2)

Part 1:

TW: bullying

Before I knew it, it was Wednesday night. I was sitting in front of the tv with Jackson, watching some cartoon he likes. Mom got the night off, but went to bed early. I don't blame her, she works a lot. I was biting at the edge of my thumb, absent-mindedly thinking about Eddie and whether or not I should call him. Screw it. I decide, and go to my room. After a moment, I close the door because I figured I didn't want anyone to know who I was calling. I grab the phone off my nightstand, his number scrawled on a crumpled piece of paper in my other hand. I dial his humber, take a deep breath, and hold the phone up to my ear. This is why you have his number. He wants you to call. I tell myself, hoping my nerves don't make it to my voice. The phone rings a few times in my ear before someone picks up.

"Munson residence!" The voice on the other line says, and I can hear the smile in Eddie's voice.

"Hi, um, it's me. Y/N." I say, thankful that my voice doesn't shake.

"I was hoping it was you, princess!"

"It's me." I laugh, suddenly feeling better about my decision to call him.

"What's up, buttercup?" He asks, a cheerful tone to his voice.

"I was wondering if, uh, you wanted to hang out?" I say, so quickly I'm unsure he understood me. There's a pause on the other end. "Eddie?" I question.

"You're really questioning whether or not I want to see you? Of course I want to hang out, princess! Your place or mine? I'll pick you up!" Eddie responds, almost as quickly as I did. Thinking about being with Eddie at his place made me feel nervous, but the thought of him here with Jackson and mom was even worse.

"Your place?" I ask, and Eddie confirms before we say our goodbyes.

"Be there in 10." He said, and as soon as I hung up the phone, I frantically began getting ready. I did my eyeliner and mascara, brushed my hair, and got dressed into jeans and a tee. I was pulling on my boots when I heard a knock on the front door. I grabbed my backpack and ran down the stairs, reaching the door before Jackson did.

"Hey Jax? I'm heading out with, uh, a friend. Let mom know if she wakes up, kay?" I poke my head through the living room arch and Jackson gives me a thumbs up without looking at me. I open the front door and see the back of Eddie's head as he stares at his van. At the sound of the door opening, he turned, beeming his shit eating grin at me.

"There she is." Eddie says and I step out of the house, closing the door behind me. We walk to his van, and he runs to open the door for me. I laugh and get in, letting him close the door behind me. He hops into the driver side and starts the van. Music blares from the speakers, so loud the windows rattle. He turned the music down enough so we could hear each other without yelling and I shrugged it off.

"I like Poison, don't sweat it." I say, drumming my fingers on the dashboard to the rhythm.

"You like Poison?" He asked, genuine curiosity in his voice. I laugh and nod. "Jesus. Y/N, can you get any more attractive?" This makes me laugh again, and we're off to his place. We both sing along to the songs as he drives and soon we enter a trailer park. We pull up to a trailer and he turns off the van. "Welcome to my castle." He says, gesturing to the trailer in front of us. He unlocks the front door and we walk inside. "It's not much, but it's home." He says, picking up garbage along the way. "Sorry. The, uh, maid took the week off." He said sarcastically. I smiled and looked around at the trucker hats that lined the walls.

"Are these yours?" I ask, even though I couldn't imagine Eddie wearing one. He laughed and threw away the trash he had in his hands before coming to stand next to me.

"No, no those are my uncles. He works nights though, so he's not around." I nod and continue to look around the room. Eddie rubs his hands on his jeans before sitting on the couch. I put my bag down and follow suit, sitting next to him. We both sat quietly for a few minutes before Eddie burst out into laughter. I look over at him before I begin laughing too.

"Why are we laughing?" I ask once I catch my breath. Eddie just shakes his head, smile on his face, and he runs a hand through his hair.

"It was just so quiet, I didn't know what else to do." He responds, looking over at me with a grin. My heart skips, his brown eyes glowing in the light. He stands up and offers me a hand up. I take it, and we walk hand in hand to the back of the trailer.

"This is my sanctuary." He says, entering what I'm assuming is his bedroom. I take in the band posters on the walls, clothes thrown across the floor, a messy bed, and a gorgeous red electric guitar hanging in front of a mirror.

"You play?" I ask, pointing to the guitar. A huge smile spread across his face as he stares at the guitar.

"That's my baby, my pride and joy." He walks up to the guitar and kisses his fingertips before running them over the strings. "I'm actually in a band. Corroded Coffin. You should come see us play some time." I nod, a question burning in my throat.

"Can you play something?" I asked, staring back at the guitar. Without hesitation, Eddie picked it up and began tuning it by ear. He plucked at the strings a bit before playing what was easily recognizable as the intro to Metallica's Creeping Death, and suddenly there was a burst of butterflies in my stomach. I stood there, watching Eddie as he got into the music and played like his life depended on it. Maybe he was trying to show off, and it was working. The notes trail off as Eddie's playing comes to an end and he gives me the most shy smile I've seen from him.

"That's, uh, that's Metallica."

"Creeping Death." I nodded, which caused him to smile that shit eating grin.

"You really know how to make a metalhead's heart race." He says, placing a hand on his chest. He gently places the guitar back on its hook and sits on the bed. I'm not sure what to do, so I sit next to him. I feel him look over at me so I return the gaze.

"What?" I ask, wanting to fill the silence.

"You're just so goddamn beautiful." He murmurs, slowly reaching up to push a lock of hair behind my ear. The action was enough to ignite a fire in my stomach, and I could feel the heat rise to my face. His hand lingered next to my face before he decided to cradle my cheek. "So goddamn beautiful." He whispered. I held my breath, looking between Eddie's eyes and his mouth. His lips were slightly parted, as if words would come spilling out at any moment. Eddie was looking at my face and for once in my life I didn't want to hide. I'm not sure who closed the distance between us, who was brave. Eddie's lips were soft, unlike his rough hand that was still caressing my cheek. He tasted of weed and toothpaste. My hands wandered up to his neck and I tangled them into his hair. Eddie moaned against my lips, which caused me to break away and stare at him. His face flushed red and he gave me a small smile.

"Sorry that just... caught me off guard." I say, reassuring him. He nodded and brushed my cheek with his thumb.

"You don't have to apologize for anything princess, I promise." He whispered, looking me in the eyes. I nodded and leaned forward, this time making sure I closed the distance. I kept my hands in his hair, and he kept one hand on my cheek with the other hand on my waist. I moved closer, wanting as little space between us a possible. We stayed like that, tongues tangled and hands wandering, for what felt like hours. I think it was Eddie who finally broke up the kiss, laughing a little bit as he rested his forehead on mine.

"That was nice." I say breathlessly, which earns another laugh from Eddie.

"Yea, yea that was nice." He agreed. He pecks my cheeks and lips, and he's so gentle about his movements. He moves back on the bed so he's leaning up against the headboard and pats the spot next to him. I crawl up and he opens his arms, making it easy for me to lay my head on his chest. I curl up next to him, and his hand starts to mindlessly trace circles on my back. I felt the vibration in his chest as Eddie started to hum an unfamiliar tune. Being in his arms is so comfortable, as if I belong there, and I feel myself start to drift off to sleep even though I'm not tired.

"Eddie?" I say, voice quiet.

"Y/N?" He replied, mimicking your volume.

"I think I like you." My voice comes out just above a whisper, and Eddie's chest rumbles as he chuckles.

"I would have never guessed." He said, planting a small kiss on my head. "I think I like you too." He whispered back. I looked up and Eddie was already looking at me. We smiled at each other and I sat up to peck his cheek.

"Should we order a pizza?" I ask, not wanting this night to end.

"5 more minutes." He says, pulling me in closer with both arms. I inhale his scent and smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie and I spent the rest of spring break together, do nothing together. He'd pick me up and we'd drive around, jamming out to whatever cassette was playing, or he'd come over and we'd play board games with Jackson.

It was Saturday morning when the phone rang. I was sitting at the table, eating a bowl of cereal, when my mother answers it.

"Hello? Oh, Y/N? Yes she's right here." My mom covers the phone with one hand and looks at me. "Sweetheart, there's a boy on the phone for you. Eddie." She says casually, not knowing that hearing his name makes my heart flutter. I stand up and all but run to the phone.

"Hello?" I say, even though I know who it is.

"Good morning, m'lady. Would you care to join me on an adventure to the lake today?" He asks, a smile evident in his voice. I nod before realizing he can't see me.

"That sounds like a lot of fun Eddie."

"Be there in 15?"

"Okay." I hang up the phone and quickly clean up my cereal bowl. My mom is watching me, smile on her face, silently sipping her coffee.

"Who was that?" She asks, and I can't help but smile.

"He's my friend."

"He's also my DM for D&D!" Jackson yells from the living room. My mom nods, as if almost in approval and doesn't say anything else.

"Actually, mom, is it okay if I go to the lake with him today?" I ask, biting my lip, worried she'd say no. She nods, still sipping her coffee and I give her a quick hug. I bolt upstairs to get ready. I'm looking through my drawers for my bathing suit, my favorite black one, and I finally found it at the bottom of my drawer. I slip into it, and put some jean shorts and a t-shirt over. I'm sitting on the couch with Jackson when there's a knock at the door. I race to open it before my mom could get there, and find Eddie, wide grin spreading across his face.

"Ready?" I give him a nod and grab the bag I packed with towels, sunscreen, water and snacks.

"Bye!" I yell to no one in particular and close the door behind me, following Eddie to his van. We ride to the lake, jamming out to music as we usually do, and when we get there we see that lots of people in Hawkins had the same idea. We finally find a place to park, and when I look over at Eddie, he's staring out the windshield with a faraway look in his eyes. I follow his gaze, and see the same blonde jock from the week before. The one who called Eddie a freak. I grab his hand, which causes his head to snap away from the windshield to me. I smile, earning a soft smile in return. "We don't have to stay Eddie. We can do something else." I say, softly. He thinks about this before shaking his head.

"I can't let those assholes dictate my life. Besides, it's hot as balls inside my trailer so we can't go there." I laugh and nod as we both climb out of his van. I grab my bag, and Eddie grabs a cooler from the back. We're walking to find an empty space when the blonde jock suddenly appears in front of us.

"Aw isn't this cute. The freak found a freakette." I stared between him and Eddie, unsure how to react.

"Hey man. Leave her out of it okay? Call me a freak all you want, but leave her alone." Eddie says next to me, standing between me and the jock. I could feel how tense his body was, and I placed one hand on his back to reassure him that I was okay. The jock laughed and looked at me.

"Aw hiding behind your freak of a boyfriend, freakette? He won't be able to keep you safe." He said and suddenly I was being grabbed from behind. A shriek escapes my mouth and I begin to flail, my arms and legs hitting whoever was grabbing me. Eddie dropped the cooler, trying to reach forward but the blonde jock grabbed his arms, pulling them behind him. The jock was laughing hysterically while I tried freeing myself.

"Jason! For fucks sake!" Eddie says, trying to get free from the jock, who I'm assuming is Jason. I feel a rumble from the jock behind me as he laughs with Jason. Jason gives a firm nod and the jock drops me. I land on the ground with a thud, feeling my knees scrape on the rocks below me. Jason lets go of Eddie and Eddie falls forward, rushing to my side.

"C'mon boys, let's leave these freaks be." Jason says, and they saunter away as they laugh. Tears threaten to fall from my eyes as Eddie places his arms around me, helping me up. I quickly wipe at my face once I'm on my feet and Eddie's hands are rubbing my arms.

"Hey, hey. I'm so sorry. So sorry." He said, before pulling me into a hug. It wasn't until he was holding me that I realized I was shaking. I took a few deep breaths before Eddie released me, looking me in the eyes.

"You have nothing to be sorry for Eddie. They're the assholes." I say, finally able to speak. He shook his head and grabbed my hand, bringing it up to his lips. He brushed his lips over my knuckles before kissing my hand and intertwining our fingers. 

"They wouldn't have done that to you if it wasn't for me." He said, caressing my cheek with his free hand. I melt into his touch and tug on his hand with mine.

"Don't blame yourself." I say, kissing the palm of his hand that was on my cheek. I pull him forward, showing him that I wanted to stay at the lake. He raises an eyebrow before following me. We walk until we find an empty spot to sit. I pull the towels out of my bag and lay them down on the ground. Eddie whistles, admiring the towels on the ground.

"And I thought I came prepared."  He said, gesturing to the cooler he carried over and I smile at him. I peeled off my t-shirt before slipping out of my shorts, folding them up and placing them next to me. I look up to see Eddie peeling off his t-shirt, and I can't help but stare at him. He had tattoos on his chest, and his forearms. He caught me staring at him, which made him smirk.

"Sorry... I just never knew you had so many tattoos." I simply say, offering him an apologetic smile.

"Oh these old things?" He said, flipping his hair over his shoulder. I laughed and he launched himself forward, grabbing my waist with both hands and picking me up so I was slightly taller then him. I wrap my arms around his neck while we laugh and he slowly puts me down, his hands still resting on my waist. Our foreheads are leaning on each other, smiling at one another. Eddie gave me a small kiss on my nose and my cheeks, before planting one on my lips. He kisses me gently, and I return the kiss, deepening it by intertwining my fingers into his hair. We break apart and Eddie brushes hair out of my face, putting it behind my ear. I blush at the action and he smiles. "You're so beautiful."

"So are you." I whisper. This time, it's Eddie who blushes.

"You need to get your eyes checked, princess." He booped my nose and plopped down on one of the towels. I grabbed the sunscreen from my bag and began applying it to my body. I realize that I need sunblock on my back, and I bite my lip from nerves.

"Hey, Eddie?" I ask, looking over at him. He's squinting up at me, sun in his face. "Do you, um, do you think you could help me with my back?" I hold up the sunscreen bottle and he sits up, patting the other towel next to him. I sit in front of him, cross-legged, and pull my hair forward so my back is exposed. He takes the sunscreen from me, squirting some in his hand.

"This is going to be cold." He warned, before softly rubbing the sunscreen into my skin. His motions were slow, delicate, like he was afraid to hurt me. I held my breath as his rough hands touched me, feeling my skin burn in their wake. "Annnnd there." He says, tapping the last spot with his fingertips before handing the sunscreen back to me.

"Thank you." I say, smiling at him.

"Of course. Do you, uh, mind helping me?" He asks, turning around on the towel. I squirt some into my hand and rub my hands together.

"This is going to be cold." I mimic his warning, before putting my hands on his skin. He already felt warm from the sun, and I couldn't help but wonder what I felt like to him.

"Thank you, sweetheart." He says, before putting some sunscreen in his hand and applying it to the rest of his body.

We spent the rest of the afternoon in the sun, occasionally jumping into the water to cool off. Eddie didn't bring a bathing suit, but that didn't stop him from getting into the water in his boxers. The sun was setting as we lay on the towels, talking and laughing. We packed up the towels, grabbed our things, and made our way back to his van. The lake had cleared up quite a bit, most of the crowd being gone. I held my breath, hoping that meant Jason and his goons were also gone. Eddie grabbed my bag off my shoulder and put it in the back with the cooler.

"Are you hungry? Let's go to the diner, yea?" Eddie asks, turning the van on. I smile, looking over at him and nodding. We arrive at the diner and I notice how empty it is. We go inside and sit in one of the empty booths, across from each other. Eddie put his elbow on the table, resting his head in his hand and stares at me. His big brown eyes searching my face, his lips curling up in a small smile.

"What, do I have something on my face?" I ask, smiling back.

"No, no actually the opposite. I'm so used to seeing you with makeup, and now I get to admire you without." He says, which causes a blush to spread across my cheeks and chest. I put hair behind my ear and shake my head, unsure how to respond.

"Oh, yea. Um." I laugh, my words suddenly failing me. Eddie's hands find mine from across the table, his hands rubbing circles into my skin. I glance up at him, offering a small smile. The waitress comes over to our table, making Eddie let go of my hands and put his in his lap. I followed suit and smiled to the waitress. We order milkshakes and burgers with fries, and the waitress walks away.

"I'm sorry if I made you feel... awkward, about the makeup thing. I didn't mean to. I just think you're absolutely gorgeous." Eddie said, and I laughed.

"No, it's not that. I just didn't know how to react. It's just, no body has ever given me as much attention as you do. I'm so used to being invisible, but not to you." He shook his head.

"Oh no, you caught my eye the first day you started at Hawkins High Y/N. You were never invisible to me. I just didn't think I'd have a chance, what with the whole school thinking I'm a freak." He chuckeled and rubbed the back of his neck. "I thought I was the invisible one." I reach out for his hand this time, and Eddie grabs it without hesitation.

"Not the whole school." He brings my hand up to his lips, gently kissing my knuckles. The waitress drops off our milkshakes, followed by our burgers shortly after. We eat in silence, which takes us about 10 minutes considering we were at the lake all day with only snacks. I'm drinking up the last of my milkshake when Eddie stands up. He places some cash on the table with the ticket, leaving a tip for our waitress, and we walk back to his van. We get in and Eddie hesitates to put the keys in.

"I should probably get you home, huh, princess?" He says, glancing over at me through his eyelashes, lids heavy with... something I can't quite place. I pout my bottom lip out.

"Do you have to?" I say, not wanting the day to end. Not wanting to leave Eddie. This causes him to smile mischievously, turning on the van.

"Shall we go to my place then?" I nod and with that, we were off.