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pickingupmymercedes · 2 months ago

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A Christmas Carol - Lewis Hamilton

A Christmas Special

genre: fluff (there's a bit of angst because it wouldn't be me without it)

wordcount: +3k

a/n: Wasn't planning on doing one, but alas, like the Grinch "I'm toasty inside and I'm leaking". Hope you guys enjoy it.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

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Christmas was supposed to feel magical. It was supposed to smell like cinnamon and pine, sound like kids laughing over the crinkle of wrapping paper, and taste like mulled wine and homemade cookies.

At least, that’s what I kept telling myself as I power-walked from the kitchen to the dining room, a tray of meticulously arranged appetizers wobbling precariously in my hands.

“Where’s the rosemary garnish?” I called out, my voice sharper than I intended.

“On the counter where you left it,” my mom’s voice floated back, tinged with just enough exasperation to make me grit my teeth.

“Right, okay. Thanks!” I tried to sound upbeat, but it came out brittle, like one of the ornaments I’d already broken this week.

The house was perfect. Lewis’s Colorado cabin looked like it had been ripped from the pages of a Christmas catalog.

Snow blanketed the landscape outside, and the living room’s towering evergreen glittered with gold and red ornaments.

Both our families were here—mine and Lewis’s—mingling in various states of holiday cheer.

Everything looked exactly as it should.

So why did it feel like everything was on the verge of collapse?

I was usually the type to wing things. I’d always believed the joy was in the process, not the end result.

But this was different. This was the first Christmas we were hosting as a couple, the first time our families were all under one roof, and the first time I felt the weight of needing everything to be flawless.

“You’re overthinking it,” Lewis had said a week ago, catching me mid-panic as I tried to finalize the seating chart. “It’s Christmas. Nobody’s going to care if the napkins match the table runner.”

I’d rolled my eyes at him then, brushing off his easy confidence. “This is important, Lewis. It’s our first big family Christmas. I need it to be right.”

But now, with the pressure mounting and the hours slipping away, I was starting to wonder if he’d been right all along.

Still, I couldn’t stop.

There was too much to do, too much riding on this. It wasn’t just impressing everyone else; it was proving to myself that I could pull this off. That I could create something perfect.

“Y/n, the caterer just called. They’re going to be an hour late,” came Lewis’s voice from the kitchen, calm as ever.

I barely acknowledged him, my brain too busy spiraling into contingency plans.

Late appetizers meant a delayed dinner schedule, which meant the kids would get restless, which—… Okay, breathe.

“It’s fine,” I said tightly, not looking up from my task. “I’ll… figure it out.”

“Babe, it’ll be fine,” he replied, but I couldn’t bring myself to believe him. How could he be so relaxed about this?

This was the first time I could show everyone that I wasn’t just good at planning vacations—I could host the kind of Christmas that would make everyone look back and say “Remember that year at Lewis and Y/n’s place? That was perfect.”

But perfect came at a price. A steep one.

I was usually laid-back on holidays, but this one… well, I was turning into someone I didn’t entirely recognize.

Someone who had snapped at Lewis when he joked ironing the napkins was a bit much. Someone who brushed off my mom’s attempt to help set up because “I’ve got it, thanks.” Someone who hadn’t stopped to sit down—or breathe—since the day before.

I knew I was being ridiculous.

Rationally, I knew that no one cared if the table settings matched the garland on the fireplace or if the cranberry sauce came from a can instead of being homemade.

But rationality didn’t exactly have a seat at the table in my mind. Instead, it was crowded with doubts, insecurities, and the quiet, nagging fear that if I didn’t get this right, it meant something about me.

I wanted so badly to prove that I could do this—not to Lewis, not even to our families, but to myself. To prove that I could handle blending traditions, making everyone feel at home, and creating a holiday memory worth cherishing.

The irony? In chasing that, I was starting to lose the very thing that made Christmas special.

“Y/n,” Lewis called again, his voice pulling me out of my thoughts. I realized I had been staring at the same strand of lights for a tad too long. “Why don’t you take a break? Have some wine or something.”

“I’m fine,” I said, sharper than intended. He didn’t reply, and the quiet that followed made me feel worse than any argument ever could.

I sighed, sinking to the floor, the lights still tangled in my hands.

I glanced around the room, the half-decorated tree leaning slightly to the right, the dining table still bare, and the unmistakable hum of chatter from the kitchen where both families mingled.

It wasn’t perfect. Not yet. But as I sat there, surrounded by the mess of my own making, a tiny voice in the back of my head whispered that it didn’t have to be.

I had just managed to shove the last box of ornaments under the console table when I heard a familiar voice call out, “Y/n! You didn’t even say hi when we walked in. What the hell?”

I turned, my brother already halfway across the room, his lopsided grin in place and a lumpy gift bag dangling from his hand. He had that look he always got when he was about to annoy me out of spite.

“Hey,” I muttered distractedly, glancing at the clock. Dinner prep was starting to fall behind, and I still hadn’t decided which candles to put on the table.

He stopped in front of me, arms crossed. “That’s it? Not even a ‘Merry Christmas, so glad you’re here, oh wise older sibling who taught me everything I know?’”

“I don’t have time for this, asshole” I said, brushing past him to fix the garland over the fireplace. “You and everyone else are so very welcome here, but I have a million things to do.”

He let out a low whistle. “Wow. Someone’s really leaning into their inner Scrooge this year.”

I didn’t bother responding, too busy adjusting a stocking that was slightly off-center.

“Alright, what’s going on?” he asked, softer this time. “You didn’t even notice when your niece tried to hug you.”

Guilt hit me like a truck, but I pushed it aside. “Nothing, I swear. I just… I want everything to be perfect, for her too, okay?”

“Perfect?” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one who once wrapped all Christmas presents in newspaper and duct tape because you forgot to buy wrapping paper.”

“I was sixteen and broke.” I snapped.

“And happy,” he countered, his voice pointed but not, at all, unkind. “We all were. Because no one cared what the presents looked like. Or if the tree was crooked or the turkey was dry. We were just… together. That’s what made it Christmas.”

I turned to face him, arms crossed. “Are you seriously trying to give me some kind of Christmas ghost speech right now? Because I don’t have time for—”

“Maybe you should make time” he interrupted, and for once, there was no teasing in his tone.

I hesitated, the weight of his words sinking in despite my resistance.

“Look, I get it” he continued, his voice softening again. “You want this to be special, and it will be. But not because of the table settings or the garland or whatever else you’re obsessing over. It’ll be special because you’re here, and we’re here, and that’s all that ever mattered to us as kids. It’s all that matters now, too.”

“Thanks for the Hallmark moment. Really. But I have things to do.” I sighted instead of admitting he was right, as I turned back to the fireplace.

He chuckled, shaking his head as he stepped back. “Suit yourself, sis. But don’t come crying to me when the ghost of Christmas present shows up later to say ‘I told you so.’ over dessert”

I was halfway into rolling my eyes when it hit me. The pie. but couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at my lips as he walked away. Still, his words lingered, like the faint smell of cinnamon that seemed to follow me everywhere this week.

“Seriously, what’s going on, now you look like you seen a ghost?” my brother asked, peering into the living room.

“Oh, no,” I whispered, the realization hitting me like a freight train. I had forgotten dessert.

My brother smirked. “Guess perfection really is a myth.”

Lewis appeared in the doorway; eyebrows raised in concern. “Everything okay?”

“No,” I admitted, my voice cracking. “I forgot the dessert. I can’t believe I forgot the dessert.”

“Babe, it’s not a big deal,” he said gently, resting a hand on my shoulder. “We’ve got plenty of food.”

“It’s Christmas, Lewis!” I suppressed a yell. “You’re supposed to have something sweet.”

Lewis exchanged a glance with my brother, who shrugged as if to say, ‘Your turn.’

“Hey,” Lewis said, tilting my chin up so I’d look at him. “What’s the one thing you always say when things don’t go according to plan?”

I blinked at him, tears threatening. “I don’t know.”

“You say, ‘We’ll figure it out.’”

“I’ve got it” I replied, careful to keep my tone light.

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he came closer, a quiet warmth that made me hyper-aware of how tightly I was holding onto the matchbox in my hand.

“Y/n,” he said softly, and that was all it took for my defenses to wobble.

I set the matchbox down with a shaky exhale, staring at the empty plates in front of me. “I just want everything to be perfect” I murmured, more to myself than to him.

He stepped closer, his hands brushing lightly against my arms before resting on my shoulders. “It already is” he said.

I laughed under my breath, a sound that came out more bitter than I intended. “You’re only saying that because you haven’t seen the cranberry sauce yet.”

“Babe” he said, his voice full of that frustrating calmness that made me want to hug him and throw something at him, at the same time. “No one’s here for cranberry sauce.”

I turned to face him, ready to argue, but the look in his eyes stopped me cold.

They weren’t teasing or dismissive or even annoyed, like I probably deserved after snapping at him all day. They were warm, steady, and so full of love it made my chest ache.

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” he asked gently, his thumbs rubbing small circles against my arm. “You’ve been running around for days like you’re hosting the royal family instead of our families. What’s really going on?”

I swallowed hard, my resolve starting to crack. “I just…” My voice wavered, and I hated how small I sounded. “I want them to have a good time. I want them to see that we’re good at this, that we’ve got it all together.”

He tilted his head, studying me with that quiet intensity he always had when he was trying to read between the lines.

“You mean you want to prove that you’re good at this,” he said softly, and the truth of it hit me like a punch to the gut.

I dropped my gaze, staring at the floor like it might hold some kind of answer. “It’s stupid, I know” I whispered.

“It’s not stupid,” he said, his voice firm. “But you don’t have to prove anything to anyone, Y/n. Not to our families, not to me, and definitely not to yourself. You’ve already done more than enough by bringing them all over.”

I shook my head, tears prickling at the edges of my eyes. “It doesn’t feel like enough. I just… I want them to look back at this and remember it as something special.”

He reached out, tipping my chin up so I had no choice but to meet his gaze. “They will,” he said simply. “Not because of the candles or the napkins or whatever else you’ve been stressing over, but because they’re here. Together. And because you made that happen.”

His words settled over, softening the tension in my shoulders and quieting the storm in my mind.

“I don’t know how you always do that,” I said with a shaky laugh, brushing at my eyes.

“Do what?”

“Manage to say the exact thing I need to hear, even when I don’t want to hear it. Especially then”

He smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to my forehead. “It’s a talent,” he said lightly, his tone teasing but his eyes still serious.

I leaned into him, letting the steady beat of his heart anchor me. For the first time all day, I felt like I could breathe again.

“You’re right,” I admitted quietly.

“About everything?”

“Don’t push your luck” I muttered, earning a soft laugh from him.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands still resting on my waist. “Come sit with us for a while,” he said. “The table can wait. Dinner can wait. Right now, I just want you to stop and enjoy this.”

I hesitated, my gaze flicking toward the half-finished table.

“Y/n,” he said, his voice low and insistent. “Please.”

The weight of that single word unraveled the last of my resistance.

“Okay,” I said softly, letting him guide me toward the living room and let myself just be.

Dinner was still salvageable, the table was mostly set, and the stockings—mercifully—were straightened.

It was fine. I was fine. We would be fine.

I hadn’t slept much. Maybe it was the adrenaline of the last few days finally wearing off, or maybe it was the quiet nagging feeling that I hadn’t quite nailed it.

Either way, when Lewis stirred beside me at the crack of dawn, his alarm buzzing softly, I was already awake.

He leaned over to kiss my forehead, murmuring something about taking a quick shower before the kids woke up. I mumbled back something that sounded vaguely coherent, but the moment he stepped into the bathroom, I slipped out of bed.

Still in my pajamas, hair a mess, and not a speck of makeup to hide behind, I padded softly down the stairs. The house was quiet, the kind of stillness that only comes in those fleeting moments before the day begins.

The living room came into view, and I froze for a moment, leaning against the doorway. The tree stood tall, its lights casting a soft, golden glow over the room.

The presents we’d spent hours wrapping were still neatly stacked, though I knew that wouldn’t last long.

I sat down on the edge of the couch, tucking my knees under me as I watched the room come alive in slow motion.

First came one of Lewis’s nieces, her sleepy face lighting up the moment she spotted the tree. She gasped, then bolted back upstairs, her little feet pounding against the steps as she woke her brother.

A chain reaction followed—one by one, the kids tumbled into the room, wide-eyed and buzzing with excitement.

Next came my mom, her robe tied loosely around her as she headed straight for the kitchen.

I could hear her humming a Christmas carol as she rummaged for the hot cocoa mix. Within minutes, the scent of chocolate and marshmallows filled the air, mingling with the pine of the tree.

I didn’t say anything; I just watched.

Watched as the kids tore into their presents, the floor quickly becoming a chaotic sea of wrapping paper.

Watched as my mom handed a steaming mug to each child, all looking up at her with a grateful smile.

Watched as my brother shuffled in, still half-asleep but smiling as he plopped onto a chair with his coffee.

And then, almost as if she sensed I needed it, my mom came over to the couch and sat beside me, handing me a mug of cocoa, the marshmallows bobbing at the surface, and settled in with a soft sigh by my side.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” she said, her voice as warm as the drink in my hands.

“Merry Christmas, Mom” I replied, leaning my head on her shoulder.

We sat there for a while, watching the chaos unfold.

One of the kids trying to explain a new gadget to my dad, while my niece proudly displayed her new doll to Lewis’s mom.

It was loud and messy and completely uncoordinated.

And it was perfect.

“This reminds me of Christmas when we were kids,” I said quietly, my voice almost drowned out by the laughter and chatter.

My mom turned to look at me, her brow lifting slightly.

“You know,” I continued, smiling faintly at the memory. “When we’d open our presents in the morning, and you and Dad would be in the kitchen getting food ready. All the relatives would be there, the cousins running around, someone always spilling something…” I trailed off, shaking my head. “It was chaos, but it felt like Christmas.”

My mom chuckled, her hand brushing against mine as she squeezed it gently. “That’s what makes it special, honey. It’s never about the perfect decorations or the perfect dinner. It’s about… this.”

She gestured to the room, where Lewis’s nephew was now gleefully dragging people to play with him, everyone looking thoroughly confused but nodding enthusiastically anyway.

“The mess?” I teased, raising an eyebrow.

“The mess,” she affirmed, smiling. “The people. The noise. The love in all of it.”

I blinked back the sting of tears, resting my head against her shoulder again. For so long, I’d been chasing perfection, thinking it was the key to creating something memorable.

But sitting there, surrounded by laughter and torn wrapping paper and the occasional shout of “Where are the batteries?”—I realized I already had everything I’d been looking for.

“Mom?”

“Hmm?”

“I hope I get it this messy, this right, every year” I said softly, my voice thick with emotion.

She didn’t reply, just leaned her head against mine, and we sat there in the quiet chaos, letting it all wash over us.

It wasn’t what I had planned. It wasn’t perfect.

It was better. So much better

And as if on cue, my mom glanced up and caught sight of Lewis standing in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame.

His hands tucked into the pockets of his pajama pants, his grin warm and knowing as he watched us. With a soft smile, she nudged me gently.

“Someone’s waiting for you” my mom murmured before excusing herself, her footsteps light as she headed toward the kitchen.

Lewis didn’t waste a second, crossing the room to take her spot beside me on the sofa. He flopped down with exaggerated effort, his arm draping lazily along the back of the couch.

“Well, well,” he teased, tilting his head to look at me. “I don’t think I’ve seen you out of the bedroom without a fully picked-out outfit, perfect hair, and makeup in days?”

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “I’ve been… intense. Haven’t I?”

“A bit” Lewis replied, grinning as he reached over to tug my hands away. “But only because you care”

I lowered my hands, glancing at him shyly. “I just... I wanted this to be perfect. I needed it to be perfect. Not just for everyone else but—” She hesitated, her voice faltering.

“But?” he prompted, his tone gentle.

I bit my lip, my gaze flicking to the kids tearing through their gifts, then back to him. “But for me. For us. For... the possibility that this might be our future someday.”

The words faltered, vulnerable and unsure.

Lewis didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he reached out, slipping an arm around my waist and pulling me into his chest.

“Y/n,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “You don’t have to try so hard. You’re already more than perfect.”

I let out a small, disbelieving laugh, but he pulled back just enough to cup my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing lightly over my cheeks as he looked me in the eyes.

“I mean it,” he said firmly. “I’ve been dreaming about a future with you long before these past few days. Ever since I saw you barefoot on that trail, convincing Willow it was the best way to feel the earth beneath her. Since you let Roscoe slobber all over you on the beach the very first time you met him. Since we spent three days on that road trip, eating two-day-old sandwiches and drinking from streams, and you still made it feel like the greatest adventure of our lives.”

My eyes glistened, a shy smile tugging at my lips. “You’re really pulling out all the stops here, aren’t you?”

“Whatever it takes” he replied with a playful grin before his expression softened again. “ You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. Least of all me.”

We stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in each other, watching the kids dive into their presents. The room buzzing with laughter and the occasional triumphant shout of “Look what I got!”

My chest felt lighter than it had in days, my worries dissolving like the marshmallows in my cocoa.

I rested my head against Lewis’s shoulder, my heart settling into a steady rhythm that matched his.

But then, a thought struck and I sat up abruptly.

“Where are you going?” Lewis asked, trying to pull me back by the waist.

I swatted his hand away with a smirk. “You’ll see.”

I sprang to my feet, clapping my hands to gather the kids’ attention. “Alright, who’s ready to make a mess in the kitchen?”

A chorus of enthusiastic “Me!” erupted as they abandoned their toys and raced toward me.

I led them to the kitchen, my laughter echoing through the house as I opened cabinets and pulled out bowls, flour, and cookie cutters.

Within minutes, the kitchen was alive —flour flying, cookie dough being enthusiastically rolled and eaten, and the sound of uncontainable giggles filling the air.

Lewis stayed back, leaning against the back of the sofa, watching the scene unfold with a smile tugging at his lips.

I caught his eye once, winking at him as I smeared a dollop of cookie batter on one of the kids’ noses, eliciting a delighted squeal.

This could be our forever. Far from perfect, but perfectly us.

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snoopledrooplecheesedoodle · 8 months ago

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A Quick Pick Me Up (Yandere Neko Cafe x Reader)

Hey, ya'll, I know ya'll like my fandom work, but I promise you my OC stuff is just as good. Please read!!!!! I just felt like doing this today! Reader is gender neutral. Also YANDERE BEHAVIOR IS UNACCEPTABLE IN REAL LIFE! IT AINT CUTE, IT'S ABUSE! SEEK HELP IF YOU OR A LOVED ONE HAVE SOMEONE IN YOUR LIFE LIKE THIS!

Picture belongs to @kaffee-und-liebe

Tw: Yandere tendencies, some platonic yanderes (the kids and Cocoa), some slightly suggestive content, cursing, Donut (you'll know what I mean later), mentions of abuse, and other possibly triggering content

MINORS DNI

You live in a city that is made up of mostly apartments, that don't allow you to keep a cat much less a hybrid. Too bad because you really love cats and cat hybrids. They're just so cute with their soft ears and tails and fierce expressions. When they purr? You almost die!

Which is why you are currently vibrating in front of the newest cat cafe where you can interact with cat hybrids and cats alike. It was also really close to your apartment building, so it was meant to be. The cafe was a cute brown stone building covered in vines and flowers with a black sign that in golden letters spelled out "Lucky Kitty Cafe". You felt pretty lucky standing in front of the building right now. You took a breath and entered the building.

Ding~

A set of bells tinkled cutely as your eyes widened in amazement. The place was catastic! There were paintings of cats, a cat tree decorated with potted plants, chairs with little cat ears on the back, and much more. A strange looking person with a long and thin face and vitiligo and mysterious blue green colored eyes looked up with a friendly smile. They wore head scarf with a hat with cat ears on top and a beige shirt with caramel accents.

"Welcome to Lucky Kitty Cafe, I'm Shopkeeper, are you here to see our cats and cat hybrids?" Their voice was a soothing androgynous voice. They were pretty hot not going to lie. "Yes, I'm here to see the cats!" "Wonderful~" Shopkeeper purred as they grabbed a pen and paper. "Would you like anything to eat or drink while you wait?" You smile gleefully at Shopkeeper and nod. "I'll have (cafe order) please." Shopkeeper jotted your order down and nodded. "Good taste, we'll have that order out right away for you Mx..."

"(Y/N)"

Mx. (Y/N) what a beautiful name...I can tell the staff will just love you~

For the privacy of our staff, they have been assigned names of popular cafe drinks and snacks. Their personalities our meant to cater to our wide clientele. Please take not of the following rules:

Rule 1.: Do not pick up cats

Rule 2: No pulling tails and ears of cats or staff

Rule 3: Harassment of any kind towards our cats, staff, or other customers will get you sent straight to Butch

Rule 4: Our staff are playing a role to increase your enjoyment of the cafe. The way they act in the cafe does not necessarily constitute how they act outside of the cafe.

Rule 5: Buy at least one item on the menu, this is a business after all

Rule 6: DON'T MESS WITH OUR DARLING

Meet Our Staff

Macchiato:

Macchiato or Macchi is the unofficial mascot of "Lucky Kitty Cafe" she is a calico hybrid who is the sweetest person around. Her cheerful and bright attitude will brighten up even the grumpiest of people's days. She always is the first to greet new customers.

You were stunned when the tritone beauty perched herself directly on your lap, her orange eyes shining brightly as she bounced up and down barraging you with questions.

She was so excited to see a cute new face around the establishment! Your hands were so gentle as you pet her soft ears. She didn't feel the slightest bit of shame letting you know how much she enjoyed it with her loud purring. When your food and drink came you offered to share some with her.

With her?

She almost fell in love right then and there, no one ever offered to share their food with her in such a genuine way. The food was some of the best she ever had since she got to share it with you. She couldn't help but laugh as you gushed over the cats, you were more adorable than anyone here!

She's probably the first to go yandere, she can't help it when your sweeter than the sugary treats Shopkeeper bakes. She is one clingy motherfucker, so she'll always have some body part of yours close to her. She will also insert herself in any interaction you have with others in the cafe or outside. Don't ask her why she's here just pet her pretty tritone hair!

She wants to be the only hybrid in your life which means you may wake up with her snuggled into your arms blinking those sunset orbs at you cutely.

"Morning (N/n)! Did you sleep well? I know I did~

Collects any trash you leave behind. Dirty napkins? Now hers. Straws? She's wrapping her tongue around while thinking indecent thoughts. Lost your cute keychain? Well good luck ever finding it again because now it's a part of her shrine to you.

Don't let her cute face fool you, she will do whatever it takes to ensure that you are hers.

"(N/n) left their Chapstick here. Mmm (N/n) it's like sharing an indirect kiss with you~"

Espresso:

Meet the cafe's very own black cat Espresso. He is very quiet and aloof at first. Most people never interact with him as he will leave when people attempt to start a conversation with him. No one understands why Espresso even took a job here as he's clearly not a people hybrid.

He is no doubt one of the most handsome hybrids most people see. Beautiful dark skin and long dreadlocks accompanied with silky black ears and tail and intelligent brown eyes. His voice is very deep and mellow much like a good espresso.

He is a cat magnet as even the shyest cats can be found purring contently on his lap. He lets them hang around him as he sketches pictures of the cafe.

"You're a really good artist"

Espresso jerks at the sudden sound of your voice, how did you manage to sneak up on him? He froze as every impulse in him was confused on how to react. Run away? Thank you? Let you sit down with him? It's clear to you that the Windows shut down noise is taking place in his head right now.

"I'm sorry for startling you, I'll be on my way now."

It didn't take long for other cats and Macchi to distract you, but Espresso couldn't get the interaction out of his head. Yes, you scared him, but you didn't pressure him into conversation. You simply complimented his art before leaving.

Why did a small part of him wish you stayed?

In order for him to go yandere for you, you have to let him approach you in his own time. You must be patient as Espresso isn't used to engaging with customers like the other staff are. He is probably the last if not close to last who go yandere for you, which means you'll have an ally for when the others get too touchy.

He is very aware that the feelings that he is developing aren't the healthiest, so he tries to keep his feelings to himself. He adores your calming presence and how you can bring out the best in anybody. He begins subconsciously drawing you more and more in different scenarios. Most relatively innocent but there are enough indulgent sketches that he doesn't allow you to look through his sketch book without him supervising.

However, jealousy begins to gnaw at his gut when he sees you interacting with the others. When did Butch get so protective of you? Why do you hang around that bastard Donut? Why can't he have you all to himself? He starts to use the trust that you've built towards him to convince you to spend less time with the others. Besides that, he's one of the most harmless yanderes on this list.

"Oh, you're here, did the others smother you too much? They won't bother as long as you stay with me my muse."

Donut:

Oh boy, you got this gremlin's attention, you really are too sweet for your own good, aren't you? Donut is an orange Munchkin cat hybrid and the shortest adult of the staff (the kids are platonic yandere for you). The definition of short guy syndrome but he hides it behind a cute facade. He lays it on thick for customers to give him fat tips (get you mind out of the gutter). A little bat of the eyelash here and a flirty wink there and everyone is eating out of the palm of his hand.

"Oh, a new customer, it's so nice to meet you I'm Donut~"

"Nice to meet you Donut."

"Hee hee, do you mind if I sit on your lap?"

He plops himself on your lap and starts not so subtly grinding on you which makes you very uncomfortable, you just met this guy. Plus, this is not the place for finding a random hookup. You push him off your lap and tell him that his actions made you uncomfortable. Donut begins boiling inside. You ungrateful bitch! How dare you turn him down! Him! HIM!!!! He yells in frustration later in the empty break room. Why were you being so rude when he was just being nice? (No dude that's sexual harassment) He's made it his personal mission to seduce you and then when you fall for him laugh in your face.

Donut turns up the clueless and the sexiness up by a hundred and ten percent. He wears extra skimpy and tight-fitting shorts and skirts (with lacey panties and/or thongs) as well as unbuttoning half the buttons on his pastel pink shirt, showing you his surprisingly defined chest. He skips around with an innocent grin, only for his actions to be ignored. You evil SLUT, how dare you pretend to not see what he's doing? He should teach you to be grateful and get down on your knees like a good whore does. He ignores all the other customers in favor of hatefully glaring at you from the corner.

He follows you out of the cafe and drags you into an alley nearby pinning you to the wall (he's actually deceptively strong). He screams all of the feelings he's been bottling up towards you with tears in his eyes. You stand still for a moment unsure of what to do and then you feel him go limp. Okay this is super awkward, the guy in front of you went on a nice guy spiel and then passed out. Unfortunately, you have some morality and decide not to leave him out here when your apartment is right across the street. You scoop him up and walk to your apartment (he's really light).

Donut wakes up in a stranger's bed and thinks he took his anger out by sleeping with some rando for a quick ego boost. However, he sees you coming into the room with a plate of breakfast and set it right in front of him. Why was he at your place? You explained what happened and Donut is very embarrassed, he can't believe he was vulnerable with the person he despises with all his heart. He prepares for you to mock him cruelly, but instead you treat him with the kindness he'd never show for you. Why are you such a mature person? It makes him so mad that he starts blushing, his heart starts pumping... did you always look so handsome?

Uh oh

Donut goes from being horrible to you to being the most delusional being on the planet. You treated him with kindness, which must mean you love him and much as he loves you. He does the cute act except this time its genuine and less sexual (he learned boundaries for you so be grateful (don't he still sucks)). However, he doesn't afford the same luxury to others. He sees the way others look at you and he doesn't like it one bit. He is cruel and sadistic towards rivals all while acting like an absolute angel towards you.

"Welcome home darling! How did I get in your apartment? You invited me here silly, now come and snuggle with your one and only~"

Sugar:

Sugar is a complete MILF looking like a golden age Hollywood actress in her work uniform. She is a Turkish Angora hybrid with gorgeous long white hair plated in victory curls and bewitching heterochromic eyes (left brown and right blue with a beauty mark under the left one). Sugar was a show hybrid like her mother before her but had to leave when she became pregnant with a stray hybrid's kittens. She is very gentle and motherly with an elegant femme fatale aura to her. Sugar is considered second in command to Shopkeeper and very respected for her age and wisdom (she's in her early to mid-forties because we love older women here).

Popular with old and young alike, you were starstruck when the snow-haired beauty and spoke to you with her lightly accented voice (she's Turkish). You felt completely comfortable with Sugar and were able to get some sound financial advice from her, as Sugar knew what it was like to be young and struggling to pay bills.

"Remember that charity is no only an act of generosity but also tax deductible."

"Yes mommy."

"What?"

She found your slight crush on her adorable as it was flattering for younger people to find her attractive. However, she didn't want to have to parent her partner as well as her twins. She doesn't immediately go yandere nor is she the slowest to go yandere for you. This feeling changed when she saw how well you got along with Cookie and Muffin (her twins). You were able to get them to listen to you as well as break up their fights which was a feat that very few outside herself could do. Color her impressed.

"Mommy is (Y/N) our new parent?"

"Now kids we need to be tactical about this-"

"They helped find a crying child's parents."

"Cookie, Muffin, say hello to your new stepparent."

Very few younger people and hybrids knew the subtle art of seduction like Sugar did, which she believes gives her advantage compared to the others. She doesn't constantly badger you for your time like Macchiato, Donut, and Cappuccino do (she's only truly worried about the romantic rivals but Cocoa is on thin ice sometimes). Nor does she play it too subtle like Espresso and Croissant do. She invites you to "platonic" dates out with her and her children to parks and restaurants. She also will subtly touch you whether it be smoothing wrinkles on your outfit or giving you chaste kiss on the cheek (she says she greets everyone that way, but you have yet to see that). She knows she attractive and how to flirt in a way that makes you blush but not uncomfortable.

She's seen the cruelties of the world and hopes that you won't have to go through have the horrors she's faced. The world isn't very kind to single moms, especially older single moms. She wants you to be happy and safe in her home, as a cute little stay at home spouse. Let her do all the hard work outside while you stay home and do some work inside (she won't let you strain yourself though). She also is a doting and spoiling yandere. She's very generous and giving towards you (even in bed) and will have all your desires met except leaving.

She's a master manipulator and will use her children as a way to get you to consider staying with her. They love you so much, you wouldn't break their hearts, right? (the kids are also manipulative little shits as well) The only people she would consider sharing (this is only in dire situations) you with is Shopkeeper and maybe Bruce. Besides that, she won't rest until you are snuggled into her chest in the bed you share.

"(Y/N) let's go out again, the kids love hanging out with you dear and I wouldn't want to disappoint them. You will, wonderful!"

Cookie and Muffin:

Meet the mischievous mixed breeds who work occasionally beside their mother. Cookie and Muffin are loved dearly by kids their age and lonely older patrons. They love sweets and messing with member of the staff they don't like (Donut and Cappuccino mostly) with very intricate pranks. They aren't always there and met you by chance as their mother had to pick them up early from school (Muffin and Cookie can get violent with each other and the only one who can break them up is momma Sugar). Muffin is the girl with short gray hair with a single white streak and Cookie is the boy with long white hair with a single gray streak.

They saw you playing with the kittens and wanted to play too! You rough house with the twins and don't get mad when Muffin bites you a bit too hard (kitten hybrid teeth are sharp). Cookie got jealous that you are paying more attention to Muffin and the two started fighting. Normally no one is brave enough to break the twins apart from each other, but you bravely stand between them enduring multiple scratches until they stopped.

They can't believe they hurt their new playmate; their mom is going to kill them. Both start crying while apologizing profusely for hurting you. Instead of yelling at them you scratch their ears gently and tell them it's okay. Your touch is just as calming as their mother's, wait why did you stop? Keep petting them please!

They're kids so they go yandere pretty quickly as they aren't romantic interests, and you sneak them pastries you bought (much to Sugar's dismay). Both are always trying to monopolize your time and will scratch and bite any staff or customer who interrupts their "(Y/N) Time". When their mom starts having a romantic interest in you, they're ecstatic, you get to become their new parent. While they are kids, they aren't dumb as they notice other staff members looking at you the same way that their mom does. They won't let just anyone marry you, only mommy can (they can't wait to call you their baba*)!

Their pranks become almost deadly in nature towards rivals of their mom. They never get in trouble for almost killing the delivery guy because they're just kids, what do you expect? Also inherit the manipulative trait from their mother. Oh no their babysitter mysteriously quit! Could you watch them? You come over only to find that it was an elaborate ruse done by the twins, so you have family movie night with them and Sugar (they "fall asleep" on you so you're forced to spend the night). Mommy is sad because she remembered how daddy left them. Could you cheer her up?

They aren't too dangerous yanderes besides the semi deadly pranks, but they aren't to be underestimated because they're children. They want a happy family with their favorite playmate, and they'll do anything they can to get it.

"(Y/N), Muffin pulled on my hair!" "Not before Cookie bit my finger!"

"Baba don't leave!" "Yeah, we'll stop fighting as long as you're here!"

Croissant:

Ah the intelligentsia of the cafe, its own certified genius Croissant. Croissant is a lover of reading, fine art, and playing his beloved cello. He brings with him a refined aura and a thirst for knowledge. He's a blonde American Curl who always wears his beloved red scarf, even indoors. He has semi long curly blond hair in a mullet and the prettiest hazel eyes. He's got freckles that he hides with makeup. He is popular with mainly older people who enjoy engaging in discourse with him on a wide variety of subjects. He also helps tutor kids occasionally in the cafe's break room.

Croissant saw you sitting in the corner reading a book while sipping on (beverage of choice), the book you were reading happened to be one he knew about. He asked if you were enjoying the book, which caused your eyes to light up. You began to ramble to him about the book you were reading which Croissant found very adorable. Finally, he found someone that had a similar interest to him.

The two of you begin to have a routine where you would have interesting conversations about your individual interests, where each one of you would come out learning more about each other. Croissant started noticing little things about you, like how one dimple is bigger than the other when you smile, or that your nose scrunches up when you're confused. That's totally a normal thing to notice about your friend, right?

Right?

Croissant is one of the last to go yandere but goes yandere before Espresso and Butch. I mean how could anyone resist your charms forever? You never are rude or demeaning like the jealous fools in his graduate classes. You actually listen with wide eyed interest and treating him like a regular person instead of something to be revered or despised made him fall deeper into his obsession with you.

Croissant will find any way to spend more time with you. You trying to go to graduate school? He can help you study! Applying for a job? Why not work here? Other work environments won't value you the way "Lucky Kitty Cafe" would value you. So, what if you're human, Shopkeeper is human too (are they though?)! Don't even worry about filling out a resume a good word from Croissant and you'll have the job by tomorrow (even if you don't want to work there you will end up working there if Croissant has something to say about it).

Croissant never values anyone's opinion on him before, but he reveres your opinion above his own. Prefer red heads? Guess who's dying his hair? Hate his curled ears? He suddenly prefers wearing hats indoors. He can become very unstable fast so try to reassure him with love and affection. Or else no one will be able to stop the fall out. He's one hell of a stalker since he wants to know that you are okay, and no one is hurting you. Keeps extensive lists of things you like and plans for the future home the two of you will buy that is far away from this city and its impure influences.

"Ah Mx. (L/N) it's a pleasure to see you today. Care to pick up our conversation from where we left off yesterday?"

Cocoa:

Cocoa is a spunky freshly high school graduated college student who is working at the "Lucky Kitty Cafe" as a waitress for some extra money to pay for campus expenses. Cocoa is a Burmese with gigantic coke bottle glasses (she's extremely far sighted) and puffy space buns. She is popular with the teens and young adults who frequent the restaurant for her cute fashion sense and her sassy attitude.

She first met you when she spilled hot coffee all over you. The one day she forgets to wear her glasses! She immediately rushes you to the employee bathroom and apologizes profusely as she sprays cold water over the burn and begins to cry. She never meant to hurt anyone, and she may even get fired for injuring another customer (first time was no accident). You were fine thankfully but the guilt still ate away at Cocoa. She decided to spend time with you as payment and even pay for your meal. You laugh at Cocoa's guilt-ridden sad puppy eyes and compliment her nails. She immediately forgets her guilt and babbles about the cute new nail salon you should try. OMG you two should totally become BFFs!

Cocoa isn't immediately yandere and is like Sugar somewhere in the middle but further towards the immediate side. She's just hanging out with her new bestie! However, her tail bristles when she sees Macchi looping her arm around your waist, or the way that Donut coos at you while trying to feed you the cafe's newest dessert. Can't these two find their own BFFs, your hers. Great now Cappuccino is sleeping with their head in your lap! She snaps and screams at the other hybrid to leave you the hell alone, scaring many nearby cats. You tell Cocoa to calm down and that you're okay with Cappuccino doing this. What the fuck? How could you?!

After taking a second to calm down, Cocoa had to figure out why she was so worked up about you having other friends. It's good for you to have other friends...so why does it leave a bitter taste in her mouth. She doesn't hate the idea of you having friends, she just needs to be your BEST FRIEND!

Cocoa is one monopolizing and clingy girl. You have planned this weekend? Great now you can throw them out because Cocoa is taking you shopping to a cool new vintage store down the road, ooh and you can have boba tea afterwards! She bats away Macchi, Donut, and Cappuccino to have some time with her bestie, they aren't invited! She also believes as your best friend (she'll get rid of anyone who tries and replace her) she gets to pick who your future spouse is, and she is overly critical towards everyone in the cafe. No one is good enough for her bestie! She might put in a good word for the others... if they forfeit their time with you for the day (she's evil like that >:)).

Cocoa also is the type to try and hang out with you outside of the cafe by "coincidence". Oh, my what a coincidence that you both were at the supermarket at the same time looking for...mangos. Man, she loves mangos (she hates mangos)! Anyways, she found this really cute spa where they use sweet, scented bath bombs in the soak tub. Don't worry she'll pay! She also will totally snitch if she sees others trailing you (like she wasn't also stalking you) to make you like her more. Oh my god Croissant is totally following you, guess he isn't the gentleman he claims to be. What's she doing here? Don't worry about that, let's go rollar skating!

"(N/n) look there's 50% off matching sets of pajamas! Let's totally get some and have a sleep over together!"

Matcha:

You like em weird. Like really weird. Matcha is one strange hybrid. They are a Russian Blue with long bangs that cover their intense steel blue eyes. They have a couple streaks of light green in their gray blue hair. Their extremely pretty as they have a pale complexion and are lithe but when they open their mouth customers walk away in discomfort. As a result, Shopkeeper has them in the back most of the day and only really lets them come out before opening and after closing. They will be the one of the last yandere's you'll probably meet.

You were helping Shopkeeper with cleaning up after an intense day at the cafe, after all they let you stay in the comfiest table for hours after you purchased food. As well as staying after closing to feed the kitties. You also may or may not have been lured by Shopkeeper's promise of being able to take some of the leftover pastries home. Whatever your reason you were helping Shopkeeper, when Shopkeeper left to take a phone call outside. You smiled to yourself as you hummed a tune while cleaning up. You started actually singing when you heard a crash coming from the kitchen area. Strange you don't remember anyone being in the store besides you and Shopkeeper. Curiosity got the better of you and you decided to sneak a peek at whatever creature was in the kitchen.

You peer into the dark kitchen to find a skinny person holding a bent-up pan and an explosion of red all over the floor and all over the person.

"Oh, don't worry this isn't blood."

You proceeded to sock the stranger in the face and run to find Shopkeeper.

"There's a strange person with bluish hair covered in god knows what in your kitchen!"

"Oh that's Matcha."

"Who?!"

After an in-depth explanation of why this person you never saw before was standing in front of you covered in strawberry jam (they like to be one with the fruit) you were introduced to Matcha. A hybrid who smells like and probably eats dirt, an acquired taste for most (both dirt and Matcha). You apologized for punching them in the face to which they grinned and told you they like how your fist felt on their face. Okay a little strange but Shopkeeper wouldn't hire a literal serial killer, right?

You don't even know anymore

Obsessed from the minute your fist made contact with their face. Not quite yandere but interested in the reactions you make (and the pain you can give them). They actually gain romantic interest towards you slower than you think, give or take two days. You saw the large cut on their arm and helped them patch it up, it was from that moment that they planned your entire wedding in their head.

Is terrible at stalking but does it in hopes of being caught and you berating them for it (thinks it's sexy when you're mad). Fights Macchi for the things you leave behind and is found sniffing the seat where you were sitting. Is the definition of worshipper yandere as they truly believe you are a deity, and they are your acolyte. They don't care if you hate them or want them dead, as long as they can be by your side that's all that matters.

Being your acolyte also means they will do anything you ask with zeal. It doesn't matter if it's highly illegal as going to jail in your stead would be a blessing. They just love you so much that it consumes their very being. They're willing to share you with others (as long as they can watch) as long as you still let them stay by your side too.

"Hit me, stab me, choke me, leave me to die. Any act done by your hands is a blessing and a pleasure for me~"

Shopkeeper:

You got the big cheese's attention, the owner of the cafe, the mysterious Shopkeeper. Shopkeeper is alluring in an inhuman way with their sharp blue green eyes and charming androgynous voice. They loved the smile you gave them the first time you came in, what an adorable face. They also loved the face you made when you took a bite of the food you ordered, that blissed-out look is just too cute.

"Excuse me did you make this pastry?"

"Oh, why yes I did, it happens to be a family recipe."

"You're so talented, that was the best (pastry of choice) I every ate!"

Normally compliments don't faze Shopkeeper they'd reply with a nod and a polite thank you. However, you seemed so genuine and the way your eyes sparkled made something melt inside of Shopkeeper. You would surely become one of their favorite customers.

Shopkeeper is very hard to read so it can be difficult to tell when they go yandere for you. Their actions can be seen as purely platonic or as their attempt to flirt with you. They always make sure your favorite sweets are freshly made when you arrive to the cafe, they have the time you arrive memorized. If you don't like sweets, they always have something savory and tasty prepared to your liking. Keeps track of your food preferences and allergies when coming up with new items for the menu, so you can taste test them.

"I was thinking of adding this to the menu tell me how it tastes?"

"Is it necessary for you to feed me?"

"Absolutely."

One thing is for sure when they do fall for you, they begin to plan how to make you entirely theirs. Shopkeeper knows how their staff have taken a liking to you, and they don't feel like sharing (may have an easier time with the more submissive/guilt ridden ones like Matcha and Butch). They use their sweet words and actions to guide you in the right direction (right into their arms). They also aren't afraid to take care of rivals that come from outside of the cafe.

"Oh, why is there blood on my face? Just a little problem in the kitchen that's all."

Cappuccino:

Cappuccino is the Ragdoll of the group, a mellow, sleepy person. They are perfect cuddle shape with their chubby body and their big fluffy ears, hair, and tail. They are almost always asleep yet one of the most popular hybrids at the cafe for how cute and calm they are. They don't often choose who they fall asleep on, so they might have accidently fallen asleep on you.

"Oh, I fell asleep but not on a pillow."

"Hey, Cappuccino, right? I need to get to work so could you kindly..."

"Zzzzzz"

Cappuccino is pretty big both tall and chubby (because tall people can also be chubby/fat and beautiful) so it's hard to move them when they sleep, which is too bad for you since Cappuccino has decided you are their new favorite pillow. They always find you in what you're doing and force you to let them cuddle with you. After all, why cuddle with a cat now that you have Cappuccino?

"Cappuccino what are you doing in my house?"

"Ugh you're being to noisy be quiet, pillows don't talk."

"GET OUT!"

Cappuccino goes yandere for you pretty quick, but you wouldn't notice as Cappuccino is too lazy to do anything about these feelings beside scent you constantly when you cuddle. Cappuccino is clingy in the sense that they can't get good sleep unless they're clinging to you. You may have places to be, but Cappuccino is sleeping right now so you won't be going anywhere. They're adorable and they know it, so they use this to make you stay longer too. One sleepy look from those big droopy blue eyes and you are staying a lot longer than you intended. Isn't willing to pick fights with Donut, Macchi, or Cocoa, but is willing to make it out like they are bullying them.

"You shouldn't hang out with people who treat others bad (Y/N), you know I never would (they totally would)."

Their apathy is one of the scariest traits they have, they may be lazy, but they use their cuteness to get crazed fans to get rid of the competition. They are not above getting rid of others at the cafe because they don't care about the people around them. Cappuccino is also very strong as when they aren't sleeping, they are at the gym, so if they feel motivated enough, they can bash some heads in. Cappuccino only cares about you, so don't make them do anything that you may regret.

"Oh (Y/N) sorry for humping you, I was having a very...intense dream."

Butch:

Enter the devoted guard dog of the cafe Butch. The Pitbull hybrid is the tallest and strongest of the cafe and doesn't let anyone harass the Shopkeeper and staff. He sent you a threatening glare with his scared face when you arrived. He didn't know you and he hated humans for all the scars they gave him. You smiled at him and walked away. Tch, stupid human.

One by one all the hybrids fell for your charms (platonic ones are platonically in love with you) and it made Butch's blood boil. Why couldn't you be satisfied with just being a patron? Why did Shopkeeper look at you that way? Butch had a crush on Shopkeeper for saving him from his horrible life yet never had the courage to approach them. He saw the looks Shopkeeper gave you and it made him angry. He was going to confront you when he saw the scene with Donut occur. He saw the look of fear and worry on your face as you carried Donut gently to your apartment. He saw how you treated Cocoa and the twins as well as Matcha. You didn't have anything to get out of this so why do it?

His answer was given the night an old competitor from the fighting ring came at him with the intention to kill. He managed to kill the guy before he was killed but he was severely injured. He heard footsteps approach him head and he looked up to see you. You kept him awake long enough for the paramedics to arrive and take him to the hospital. The look of worry in your eyes is genuine and your smile of relief reminds him of the smile that Shopkeeper gave him that day they saved him (he's got a thing for nonbinary baddies). Your smile however was less calculated and more genuine.

Badump

Butch is the last to go yandere because Butch feels guilty. Guilty for hating you when you showed him nothing but kindness, guilty for betraying Shopkeeper like that and guilty for wanting to lock you away where no one but himself can see you. He is one overprotective and loyal pooch, who will protect you until his final breath. Good people don't deserve to face the cruelties a monster like him faced.

The most likely to be poly with you and Shopkeeper as he still holds feelings for Shopkeeper and they're both obsessed with you. You won't want for anything as he holds you in his muscular arms with his head buried in your neck to muffle the sobs.

"Please forgive me for being selfish, you're the only good thing I've got."

*Baba is the gender-neutral affectionate term for parent like mama and papa.

Sorry if it's bad towards the end, I rushed towards Cappuccino and Butch. Please feel free to request scenarios for the new ocs I dropped. ONLY PLATONIC FOR COCOA AND THE TWINS BUT EITHER ROMANTIC OR PLATONIC FOR EVERYONE ELSE.

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere ocs x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere ocs #yandere cat cafe #male yandere #female yandere #nonbinary yandere #coffee #coffee shop #yandere cat hybrid #yandere hybrid #romantic yandere #platonic #platonic yandere #tw yandere

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primofate · 1 year ago

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Hello! I love your works! 💕 For request how about some fluff with Kabukimono/Kunikuzushi who wasn't abandoned by Ei and he lives in her temple? The reader is personal maid that takes care of Kuni and she has a lil crush on him ? Kuni is not aware of warm feelings he feels for her too! If it's not in your taste that's okay! I wish you and your family to always be healthy!

Oh God, this is so interesting I might get carried away. This is the problem with me and requests I find interesting. I just spend all my time working on ONE request lollllll. I'm so weak, I apologize.

Thank you for sticking with me, by the way. Appreciate the support.

Premise:

Kunikuzushi calls Raiden by "Ei" and sees her more of a sister than a "mother"

He houses the electro gnosis and it hasn't been taken away

Reader is a vision holder, but is not a fighter. More of a healer/support type of person.

He has his own quarters in Tenshukaku but for the purpose of the story his main home would be Shakkei Pavilion

Reader is not the only maid/servant he has.

I'm assuming that Kunikuzushi is way softer than "Scaramouche", but inherently there's still a hint of mischief and trickery in his ways.

Warnings:

I think I may have taken this too far and she's hardly a personal "maid" anymore >_> sorry I hope you still like it.

Story and headcanons start here:

The traits of a Kunikuzushi in love

Does not treat you like a maid.

"What're you doing?" he asks, eyeing the tea you place on the table, then darting up to meet your confused expression.

"...Giving you your daily tea?" You squeak out. You'd been new to the job. Probably a month or two in, and this was one of the daily routines that you had to do and prepare for. Every day was a different blend of tea, sometimes he requested for certain ones. You didn't think there was anything different about the way you did things today.

"Yes, thank you," he adds, but still stares straight at you. "But I meant why are you leaving?"

You blink. It feels like an eternity of silence passes for you didn't have an answer, but he fills it with his voice once again. "Sit down and join me, there isn't anything else for you to do, is there?"

Awkwardly, you slide onto the free zabuton adjacent to him. He calls for another maid, who enters with her head bowed. "...Kindly get another teacup for Y/N,"

"Oh, no, that's alright. I don't need--" you start, but the maid exits and Kunikuzushi abruptly starts talking again. "Ei says that you were hired to be my personal maid,"

You shift in your seat, still not certain about what you're supposed to do in this situation. "Yes, Young Master,"

His face curls into distaste, something about the title makes him uncomfortable but he doesn't protest. "In that case there isn't anything else for you to do except to cater to me, correct?"

You only think for a second. "...That would be...technically correct, yes,"

He hums and continues with what he was doing beforehand, practicing brushstrokes with black ink and parchment paper. "Then join me for tea, and let me know if my handwriting has improved,"

2. Gets irritated when you're on a day off

"Is there something wrong?" Ei asks, her eyes still closed. She peeks an eye open to look at Kunikuzushi's slightly annoyed expression and furrowed brows, then closes her eye again.

"Not at all, sister," but his tone is flat and he had not taken another sip of the tea served with his breakfast today.

There's a few seconds of silence followed by a hum from the Raiden Shogun. "...Then what is the ominous presence coming from your person, little one?"

There's a soft grunt, followed by shifting, a small sigh and a sort of huff. Ei is surprised every day by how much expression Kunikuzushi shows. She had always thought he was fragile, but perhaps he was slowly building his own personality. She finally opens her eyes when she hears a sort of mumble directed at her, she asks for it to be repeated again, as she hadn't heard it clearly.

"...This isn't how Y/N makes my tea," He looked to be a spoiled prince at that moment and it takes a lot for Ei not to break out into a chuckle at his statement.

"There's no way for them to always be around you, Kuni. Y/N deserves to rest from time to time," she states, starting on her own breakfast. There he goes again with that tiny huff, but he doesn't complain more, and opts to keep his mouth shut.

3. is more energetic when you're around--and his sister finally notices

The training session started rather early today. Though you sat on the sidelines watching Ei and Kunikuzushi battle it out, you had gotten used to the clash of electro against electro by this point.

At the beginning it was rather frightening, the sheer amount of power the two of them combined had. You were once scared to be struck by lightning on accident, now it was almost comforting to be around.

"You seem to have more reserves of energy on certain days," Ei exclaims as she sheathes her sword to mark the end of training. You might have imagined it, but you thought her eyes flick over to you for the fastest second.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about, sister. It's just like any other day," Kunikuzushi slightly pants, catching his breath. You take that as a signal to stand and bow, then entering the training ring with a cloth in hand.

You scurry over next to him, and offer the cloth for him to take. He takes it with a slight smile, "Thank you, Y/N," and you nod in response.

"I have your change of clothes ready at the hot springs," you say and he always feel a sense of relief that you've got things under control and ready for him, specially after a long training session.

He thanks you again, and excuses himself. "I'll see you outside then, I won't be long," he promises, despite the fact that you've always told him he can take his time to freshen up.

He disappears first, and you bow towards the Raiden before turning to follow him.

"Y/N," the Raiden calls out to you just as Kunikuzushi leaves the room. You stop in your tracks and turn back around. You almost know what she's about to say.

"...Don't forget, what you were tasked to do, when the time arises," The Raiden whispers. There's a sort of melancholy in the way she says it but a definite determination in the way you answer.

"Of course, your grace,"

4. Feels a sense of insecurity when someone else shows interest towards you.

Despite your title being a "maid" you didn't wear the same purple uniform that all the servants were made to wear. You were still in uniform, but it was a rather official looking garb than what most had.

"It'll be a long meeting today," Kunikuzushi warns you. That was part of your duty now, tagging along wherever he went, and it was just something that he specifically asked you to do.

Diplomatic meetings were held from time to time, this time with a clan head. He was younger than you thought, with a good head on his shoulders. It was something about the import and export goods in the port of Ritou, something that you weren't concerned with, and something that you usually tuned out while waiting for the meeting to end.

Kunikuzushi doesn't quite know why he subjects you to such boring tasks. You could've stayed back at the Pavilion, but what exactly would you do there. It was just a different type of boring.

Contrary to what he thought, you hadn't found it boring at all. In a sense it was your job to watch after him and his needs, and so this was all part of your required tasks.

When the meeting was adjourned everyone stood to bow at each other, it wasn't at the last moment that the clan head acknowledged your presence.

"...Excuse me, though it's been a great chat and I do appreciate your grace's presence today...I'd been wondering," he motions a hand toward you, "if it was possible to grace me with your name,"

You stand there dumbfounded at first, until you realize he was talking to you. "Oh, me? I...am..." you hesitated because you didn't know if it was respectful for someone as low as you to even open your mouth. Each person in the room had their eyes on you now. Everyone, except Kunikuzushi, who had stared the man down as if trying to drown him in an endless gaze, answers for you.

"...This is Y/N," he looked to be thinking about what to say next. "...I'm indebted to them for looking after me all this time,"

"Ah," the clan leader pipes up, tearing his gaze away from you.

Ah what? You wonder. Not completely following the conversation. However, the next thing you know the clan leader had apologized, and Kunikuzushi abruptly turns and starts walking, leaving you to hurriedly follow after him in a slight daze.

5. Thinks about your well being

"Y/N, are you aware that I house the gnosis in my body?" he asked you one day.

"Yes, since the beginning, my lord," you don't know what brings this topic up. The gnosis was almost never talked about.

In the study, there's a moment of silence as he continues to practice his brush strokes. Each flick of his wrist is more precise than before, and you had the mind to compliment him.

"...If the day comes that someone attempts to take it... That's the only time I'd want you to leave me be. Do you understand?"

Your shoulders tense up for only a moment, your eyes tacked on to the calligraphic words he was painting. "...I understand,"

6. Wants to keep you safe

"May I ask your name and affiliation?" You stand at the main doors of Shakkei Pavilion. There are about 4 other servants behind you, standing straight and curious about the commotion.

"Signora, of the Fatui," An elegant looking lady, you thought, but what business could she have here?

"...and your reason for visiting, milady?" You attempt to be polite, offering a smile. Perhaps she was just lost...but that could not be the case, judging from the hoard of armored and weaponed men behind her.

"I heard that there was a person of note residing here," she smiles, her voice is sultry, matching the dress that she wore. She wasn't even trying to hide what she was after now. "I would like an audience with him,"

You turn your head the slightest bit towards a servant and nod at him, he takes the signal and proceeds inside the Pavilion. You turn your attention back to Signora and give her the most pleasant smile you could muster.

"I see. The young master is resting at the moment, I've sent someone in to check if he would like to entertain guests right now...but the chances are low. Perhaps you could come back tomorrow? I'll certainly tell him that you've come,"

"...Don't forget, what you were tasked to do, when the time arises,"

The chuckle that Signora lets out sends shivers down your spine, the men behind her start to step forward. "I'm afraid tomorrow would be too late, we'll welcome ourselves in now,"

"...Picking a personal "maid" was a long process, and you were chosen for a reason... When the time comes, there will be those who will attempt to take the gnosis,"

Signora walks forward, but stops in her tracks as a loud BANG BANG BANG resonates in the sky. Fireworks erupt, one by one, a cascading colour of red, and only red. A particular one stands out as it shoots up into the sky, it makes a loud sound, almost like its whistling and whizzing through the air, before it erupts, a trail of bright red smoke hovering in the night sky.

Signora scoffs and finally grins at you. "A signal fire. You're smarter than you look,"

"And if it so happens that we are far away from each other, you're to send a signal to alert me...From there on, what I need is time. Distract them, as much as you can, and keep Kunikuzushi away, as far as you can,"

"What's going on out here--" At the same time that Kunikuzushi appears at the top of the stairs. You turn to look at him once, and once only. You give him a reassuring smile as he asses the situation, eyes darting to and fro before landing on you.

"It'll be fine, milord," you whisper. He most likely couldn't even hear you where he stood. Perhaps the reassurance was for yourself. The ground rumbles, it feels almost like an earthquake. Vines, trees, roots, branches and leaves erupt from the ground behind you. Your dendro vision shines on your shoulder.

7. Won't let you go

"Y/N?!" Kunikuzushi shouts in confusion as the trees keep erupting. They become taller and taller, higher and higher and he can hardly see you now--

It hits him, what you were trying to do. This was a barrier to keep him inside the Pavilion, and to keep the intruders out. Out there with you.

"Y/N!" he starts running down the stairs as vine after vine weave into each other. He still has a glimpse of your back, but the shrubs and the leaves and the branches are closing in.

8. "Stop!"

The trees are higher than ever, forming a thick wall. His legs stumble, almost rolling down the stairs. There's an open hole left, if he could just reach it--

but roots start to swirl into it, he reaches, but his hand touches nothing but vines and soil. "No!" He looks up and around for an opening of any kind. There's none.

It's a solid wall of tangled trees and plant matter. He pushes into it with a grunt and it doesn't budge the slightest bit. When he stills, it's quiet. It's so incredibly quiet that one would not even think there was something happening on the other side of this artificial wall.

9. "This can't be happening,"

Is it a nightmare? He asks himself.

He reaches deep inside for the hidden reserves of electro energy, attempting to put pressure onto the wall, trying to get it to give in. He pushes hit after hit of electro energy spheres, and hit after hit it budges that slightest bit.

It's working, but not fast enough.

"Pathetic!" He says to himself, the words echoing into nothingness, voicing out how he felt about his own powers.

Had he used his full power before? No. There had never been a need to. Who would have thought he would attempt to because of you.

He pulls not only from his electro energy...now he pulls his energy even from the gnosis, and under no circumstance was he allowed to use the full extent of its power. Ei said it might break him...but how far was he willing to go?

10. "Just hang in there, I'm coming,"

The Raiden would be here soon.

Is what you kept telling yourself, despite your bruised and cut up appearance. It was easy enough to stall the Fatui soldiers. Signora was the real problem, and her pyro affinity was even more of a problem for you.

You find yourself cornered, and the crimson with of flames stares down at you. "I'll give you a chance," she starts, voice amused and perky. "Open this wall, and I'll let you live. It's as easy as that. There's no need to throw your life away protecting the gnosis. You're young, a whole life ahead of you,"

You tip your head up, eyes blurring for a split second, headache worsening. You probably hit your head somewhere during the chaos. "...It's not the gnosis I'm trying to protect,"

Signora frowns in disappointment, but says nothing else. She didn't like wasting her breath. She lifts her hand above your head and you see a flicker of flames.

Then a bright light.

A bright, purple light, engulfing the entirety of the open area. The two of you recoil and block your eyes.

11. "Back away. Don't touch Y/N,"

You're too tired to open your eyes. But its warm and comfortable. The words and sounds just turns into a buzz in your ears.

A snapshot of memories race through your mind, little pictures of everything in your life leading up to today. Yet most of it consisted of your time serving Kunikuzushi. Tending to him when he was sick, pointing at the cherry blossom tree while out on a walk, looking at the lanterns during the festival.

You were not a maid. You never felt like you were. You were a companion.

Then, your eyes snap open. You bolt up on the bed you're resting in and instantly regret the sudden action. "Augh..." you groan, falling back down on your elbows.

On closer inspection, no one else was in the room. It was just you. You slowly put yourself down to a laying position again, staring at the ceiling.

What happened? You ask yourself, coming up with no answers whatsoever.

12. "You...You're alive,"

It all comes back to you when you see him standing by the sliding door, a cup of water in his hand. You keep each other's gaze for the longest time, until he slowly walks over to the chair next to you...and slumps forward to bury his head into your white sheets.

"...Are you unhurt, milord...?" you whisper, for the silence seems so fragile.

"...Physically, yes," he mumbles. "Mentally...I'm...seething with rage and drowning in...something. I don't know what it is, I just..."

You let nothing be said between the two of you for a few more moments.

"I can breathe now," he continues, and you stay looking at the back of his head. "I can breathe now," he repeats. "That's what it felt like. As if I had lost my breath and it was hard to breathe," He picks his head up to glare at poor old you. "and then I'm angry because neither you nor Ei had told me anything about a plan...If it concerns me, I deserve to know!"

You wince at the sudden increase in volume, and he apologizes quickly. "S-Sorry, I'm...just..." again he struggles to find the words that names his feelings. There's so many things at the same time, it was hard for him to comprehend.

You pipe up for him, "Worried,"

He tosses the word back and forth in his head. Is that what this is? Worry? An emotion so crippling that he was unable to do anything else except wait for you to wake up.

"...but why?" He asks himself aloud. You trace the expressions on his face. He doesn't know.

But you do.

You know exactly why he was feeling that way because you feel it too.

13. "Please don't do that again,"

He almost begs you a few days later, when you've made a full recovery. He can't bear it. He can't imagine what worse things could have happened if he nor Ei didn't make it on time.

"Besides, there's no need to... Ei confiscated the gnosis from me..." he grumbles something about a punishment for using too much of its power.

You hum a little, and repeat what you told Signora. "It's not the gnosis I'm trying to protect,"

"...I can take care of myself just fine," he huffs, catching on to what you were implying.

"Oh, then it seems I'm out of a job, young master! A personal maid seems hardly necessary," you were only teasing, but something sort of switches on in his mind. He looks straight at you, and without any hesitation whatsoever,

14. "You are always necessary...Lest I find it hard to breathe,"

This was how he described how he felt, in this straightforward manner yet long winded way. You hide a smile.

Perhaps he'll never understand his own feelings, perhaps he will.

For you, being certain about yours was more than enough.

#scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #genshin impact #scaramouche angst #scaramouche fluff #wanderer #genshin angst #genshin fluff

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diamondocean001 · 9 months ago

Note

Hi, may I request SFW/NSFW Kokushibo x human fem!reader hcs comforting her on her period? (With a heavy flow and bad cramps😭) (If you’re comfortable writing that ofc (っ- ‸ - ς)

OMG I love this idea so much!!!

(I get killer cramps too so ik where you're coming from)

Tw: smut (this man's tongue going crazy)

(I put the NSFW/smut at the end in case you want to skip)

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

Kokushibo has had a wife before so he vaguely knows what a period is but not how to help. He spent more time fighting demons

But now that he's immortal and has met you? He'd burn the world if it meant you wouldn't feel an ounce of pain

He'd cater to your specific needs. Hot water bottle? Got it! Chocolate? Immediately there! Even just cuddle, the man would drop everything to do it. Such a gentleman

He'd also be over supplied. Pads/tampons for months

If you bleed through (we've all been there) he'll notice in an instant. He'd hug wrap his jacket around your waist to hide the stain and whisper in your ear to let you know

He'd wash your clothes too! Not a single stain by the time he's done

Knees tucked to your chest and face buried into your pillow. You had one hand over your gut as if that would stop the pain of God's curse.

The bed dips behind you, signalling the arrival of your demon boyfriend. Strong arms snake around your waist as he presses a hot water bottle to your abdomen. You couldn't help but let out a groan of relief.

"Kokuuuu."

His other hand runs through your hair.

"Is there anything else you need, moonlight?"

Rolling over, you bury your face on his chest and grumble something vaguely along the lines of "cuddles".

Kokushibo chuckles softly, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you further into him.

"Of course."

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

NSFW (can skip if you want)

It can't be forgotten that this man is a demon

He'll know your on your period from the smell of the blood and my word is it so delectable to him

He'd pin you down, tongue delving into you just to taste you blood (with your consent of course)

"F-Fuck! Koku." You groan, fingers embedded in his hair.

Kokushibo lay, head between your thighs, tongue deep in your folds, licking up any drop of your blood and cum he can. And my lord is he merciless with it.

"You taste so good moonlight. So fucking good."

You arch your back, grinding against his face, his nails digging deeper into the flesh of your hips as a response.

You'd lost track of how many times you've came but you knew there was still more to come.

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

Sorry its short but I hope you enjoyed reading it

#demon slayer #kny x reader #kokushibo x y/n #request #kokushibo x reader #kokushibo #kokushibo x you #period comfort #kny #michikatsu smut #michikatsu x reader

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fawnduu · 2 months ago

Note

do you have any advice for a newly public creator dealing with the lingering psychic damage of a mean spirited bad faith interpretation of their work?

I know it's silly to get hung up on, but that doesn't keep the negative thoughts and hypothetical arguments from bubbling up once in a while

asking because you seem like the sort of creator who gets an exciting and unpredictable mix of adoration and bile, and yet you still seem pretty chill and extremely (admirably, inspirationally, deservedly) confident in the work you do

...or maybe the question is more like: you make good art; how do you know that you make good art? how do you keep knowing?

This is something I've had to deal with a lot recently and I'd be lying if I said it hasn't ever bothered me. In my early 20s especially I agonized over every bad faith reading someone could take on what I was making.

Eventually I realized there is no possible way to tell a story that appeals to every person on earth. Someone is going to absolutely despise what you are making no matter how hard you try but that doesn't mean it's not worth making. For every person who hates your comics and everything you do there is someone who cherishes them.

Over the years I've had a lot of really kind people reach out to tell me how much the stories meant to them or made them finally realize they were gay or trans. You have to let those messages shine brighter than the few bad ones even though the bad feel incredibly loud. Part of that comes from protecting your peace and just not engaging with bad faith messages. I also just in general have a rule of if I'm feeling really charged about something rather than post about it, I go talk to my friends instead. The people who know me best and can give me contextual advice and comfort. I don't want to encourage a space for people to pick fights and argue with each other or me.

As for confidence, I am confident in the stories because I cater the stories entirely to my particular taste. If I'm loving making it and having a good time it's going to exude confidence. If I'm holding myself back it's going to feel toothless. Characters have mess, no story is ever going to be perfect but if you have fun telling it and making it that's where the magic happens!!! I find peace in stories that are campy and messy and just someone having fun with it. If you set the bar too high for media you are 'allowed' to think is good, how will you ever clear that bar yourself???

Ultimately the answer to "how do you keep making art despite it all" is a good network of friends, cutting yourself off from negative feedback loops, touching grass, and just making your stories/art so utterly catered to you that you wake up with a burning desire to create despite it all.

#fawnduu ask #sorry this was long winded

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mochinomnoms · 9 months ago

Note

WHAT IF Riddle and Yuu started developing feelings for each other while hiding from Jade/Floyd? What do you think that would look like? Angsty?

I haven't considered it, as Riddle and Yuu are meant to have a sibling relationship in PTM and so the idea of that kinda doesn't exist in my mind lol.

I'm having a bit of a hard time thinking about such a scenario, but I can imagine a case of Riddle and Yuu somehow entering a fake dating scenario to get the twins off their backs, lol.

You'd think Riddle would be the sensible one and shut it down upon the immediate suggestion from you, but the moment he becomes aware of the extent of Floyd's feelings and hears that ominous “Goldfishie~” from down the hall, all sensibilities exit out the window and splat against the stone path like an egg.

Suddenly, very loudly mind you, Riddle is ever so sweetly asking, “So, my dear,” he says it like the words leave a bad taste in his mouth, “where would you like to go for our next date? The cafe in town? Cater always gave it his highest regards!”

You might want to get rid of the scrunched up look on your face, like you just swallowed a bad lemon, or else the twins won't believe it. Though, based on the shared look between them, you don't think they do anyway. In fact, they even look…amused, as you two awkwardly lace your arms together and avoid eye contact with the crowd staring.

The twins do so love playing with their food, and you two just made the little game of cat and mouse so much more funny than they expected. So you two are dating? They never would have guess, since they've never seen you two kiss, let alone lace your hands together. Rumor has it that you two are faking, why don't you disprove the rumors by sharing a kiss right here, right now?

Even Riddle can't hide his cringe, as you two share a look, disgust in both of your eyes that you can't hide. Despite Riddle very loudly telling them that they need to mind their own business, they won't stop pestering you two until you either fest up, or disprove the rumors that they started, though is it really a rumor if it's true?

#mochi asks #twst #twisted wonderland #jade leech #floyd leech #riddle rosehearts #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd x riddle #ptm #you asking for angst:#me immediately turning it into crack: heheheheheheehe #i think im funny

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lostsyren · 4 months ago

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Sooooooooo OBSESSED with Rafe s4. Thinking sofia is afraid to introduce her parents to Rafe, because she is afraid of what Rafe will think and whether he will be all arrogant or not. So her parents go to Tannyhill to have lunch with her and Rafe and her mother is impressed with the house, and her father doesn't even know what to say and starts talking about things from their reality and God. The reader wants so badly for her parents to like Rafe, but she is also so apprehensive about what Rafe will think of her parents. And I keep hammering in my head what Rafe would think and do.

⋆˚✿° meeting the parents ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

{a/n: thank you for the request and I hope you enjoy!}

{summary: rafe has lunch with sofia’s parents}

⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚

They’d been together long enough that she had to tell her parents about him. Their initial reaction had been anger.

Dating Rafe Cameron?

The Cameron family had a notorious reputation on the island, one heavy with murder, death and devastation. Sofia’s parents didn’t like the fact his father, Ward Cameron, was a killer, unsurprisingly. But Sofia had garnered enough care for the boy to see him for more than the salacious rumours and exaggerated libel.

Rafe was also wary about her parents. With his own family unit it such a disarray, Sofia understood his qualms– especially with how his father used to treat him.

Sometimes when it was late, the faint whisper of cicadas blanketing the silence, Rafe and Sofia lay together in his bed. He’d be gently strumming his fingers through her hair, eyes glassy and unfocused, fixated on the ceiling. It was in those moments Rafe would tell her about Ward Cameron: a man who was tough, a man who played favourites, a man who made his son think he didn’t love him. Sofia would just listen quietly, her fingers massaging his chest, feeling his heart beat race.

She supposed that’s why Rafe had asked to meet her family– because he didn’t really have one of his own.

Sofia put it off, making up excuses, changing the subject. A million things could go wrong, and she was happy just existing in her little bubble with Rafe; there was no need to ruin it.

So when she’d come home from work one day, ready to just collapse into bed, she was shocked to learn Rafe had gone behind her back to invite her parents himself.

So that’s how she’d ended up pulling into the driveway of Tannyhill, something she’d done a thousand times before, but now her parents were with her. She swallowed thickly, praying to god it went smoothly.

⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚

Rafe debated on whether to set up the table in the dining room, the table in the back garden, or the one in the parlour. He’d whisked around the house, wondering what would make the best impression.

He’d woken up early to get everything ready, beginning to regret his decision when he realised that if her parents hated him, she might be out of his life. Rafe had wanted to show Sofia how much she meant to him– and that meant what was important to her, was important to him.

He opted for the porch outside, the distant view of the ocean and sweet summer air seeming idyllic. If he was being honest with himself, he was in over his head. Rafe tried to replicate what he saw Rose and Ward do when they’d host dinners. Get the linen out, use nice silverware from the cabinet, dress the table.

Rafe eventually gave up, when the table began to look cluttered and messy rather than elegant and tasteful– the image he was trying to project. He reservedly called up his housekeeper to help him out, while he helped the caterers he hired to bring the food in.

Everything was done. The plates were set, the silverware ready. His housekeeper had even brought along a bouquet of flowers for him to place as the centre piece (he’d given her the month off as a thank you).

As he was admiring the set up, his phone buzzed with a text from Sofia.

They were on their way.

Rafe hurriedly rushed upstairs to change, opting for a baby blue button down and white trousers, looking in the mirror with a shaky inhale of breath.

Be a man her parents admired. Respected. He nodded slowly as he repeated the mantra in his head, smoothening the material of his shirt, when he heard the sound of a car pulling up outside the house.

They were here.

He sped downstairs to meet them at the door, his footsteps echoing through the empty halls.

Rafe peered through the window to see Sofia along with her parents get out the car. Her dad was a tall man with hard eyes and an intimidating stare, her mom the complete opposite. Rafe felt a biting pang of hurt in his heart, the reminder of his own parental condition feeling like cold water drenching his insides. He sucked in a sharp breath, calming himself down, the image of Sofia in her pink sundress helping assuage his anxieties, before opening the front door.

⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚

Sofia walked up to the house, Tannyhill feeling like an imposing, oppressive giant, her nerves twisting and coiling inside her like a loop of elastic.

Rafe appeared from the entrance, smiling widely– she could already tell he was also nervous.

Smiling at him, she gave him her hug, Rafe directing a kiss to her lips which she swerved sand redirected to her cheek, her parents scrutiny feeling too much.

Rafe then shook her parent’s hand, a string of greetings and welcomes following.

Soon Rafe was giving them a tour of Tannyhill.

“Wow, this is such a beautiful house.” Sofia’s mom mused, as Rafe led her around, showing her all of the historical artefacts Ward had displayed and the expensive pieces of art Rose had curated. Sofia had never seen him so eager to please, so attentive, so friendly. She brimmed with a sense of pride that he cared that much to make her parents feel welcome.

“Quite a big house for one person wouldn’t you say Rafe?” Sofia’s dad added, interrupting Rafe’s tangent explaining where they’d sourced the china figurines.

Sofia threw him a disparaging look, shaking her her head sharply. She’d warned him not to bring up her boyfriend’s family, knowing it was a sore spot for Rafe, but her dad was stubborn. Though he didn’t explicitly say, his words implied a question: where was his family?

“Basta,” Sofia mumbled softly in Spanish. Stop it.

“Yeah I guess, good thing I have Sofia here to keep me company,” Rafe joked, but she could tell he was left off kilter, his eyes straying to the family picture on the mantle piece.

“Well I think I’ve spoken enough, shall we eat?”

Rafe led them outside, Sofia’s eyes widening at the beautifully set table, soft, pink lilies blooming at the centre, the dappled sun pooling across the the linen.

“Thank you Rafe,” her mom said as he held out the chair for her, doing the same for Sofia.

He poured everyone drinks, the conversation easy and flowing as everyone ate their food. Sofia’s dad didn’t say much, just silently listening, gaze occasionally drifting off towards the ocean.

“¿Está todo bien papá?” Sofia asked quietly, to which he nodded with a tight lipped smile.

“Everything’s fine.”

As they were finishing their meals, the sounds of forks scraping against the plate, Sofia’s dad set down his drink, looking over towards Rafe.

“So Rafe, Sofia tells me you’re a property developer, how’s work going?”

Sofia’s eyes darted between her dad and Rafe, her breath becoming shallower in anticipation. Business talk was never good.

“Yeah I do. It’s going alright, just finishing up a big project near by Winston street.”

“Oh is it the one a half a mile away from the West harbour?”

“Yeah actually, you seen it?”

Her dad laughed ironically whilst Sofia twisted the napkin in her hand. This should be interesting. “Yeah actually, my good friend, Marcus, lived there with his family, before you guys came down and bought him out of it. He’s moved now– gone to the mainland.” Her dad placed his cutlery down, taking a long swig of beer to wash down the food.

Sofia glanced over to Rafe, to see his jaw tensed, unsure what to say, “oh, well it was sold to us for a good price I assure you, paid more that it was worth that’s for sure.” Rafe chuckled. Sofia grimaced at his answer, looking down at her feet under the table when he tired to look to her for reassurance..

Sofia’s dad furrowed his eyebrows, settling his beer down with a sof thud, “Oh is that right? Every house on the Cut probably seems that way to you huh? Dirt cheap.”

She noticed the moment Rafe’s eyes flashed with regret, knowing he’d said the wrong thing.

“I didn’t mean it like that sir–“

“Of course you didn’t.”

“Dad–“ Sofia interjected.

“Thanks for the lunch Rafe, it’s been lovely,” Sofia’s mom said, trying to alleviate the tension.

“Of course ma’am, I’m glad you enjoyed.”

Sofia’s dad stood up ready to leave, his hand outstretched over the table.

Rafe accepted it, the lingering expression of shock on his face, as the two shook hands.

“Thank you for dinner, I don’t mean to be harsh but seeing as you’re a successful developer, you should try and see a different perspective. This island isn’t just for one type of people, the Cut is slowly becoming more and more displaced– you have the power to stop that Rafe.”

Sofia agreed with what her father was saying. She’d often times feel a stirring disquiet whenever she’d hear of people having to move out of their homes in the Cut only to drive over to Tannyhill, listening to Rafe gloat about the best deal he’d ever gotten on a piece real estate.

She glanced over at Rafe, seeing his clamped down jaw– he definitely didn’t agree. She silently prayed he wouldn’t be combative, her hands gripping the napkin until her knuckles turned the same colour as the tablecloth.

But all he did was smile and nod amicably, “of course sir, thank you for telling me.”

Sofia breathed a sigh of relief.

“Well we’re heading off, you coming Sofia?” Her dad asked her as she stayed seated at the table.

“No it’s ok, you guys go ahead without me, I’ll stay and help Rafe clear up.”

“Ok sweetie, see you at home,” her mom said.

Rafe and Sofia stood outside watching as her parents drove off, his hands slipped around her waist. Sofia let out an inhale of relief once the car was out of sight, finally letting her shoulders drop her body sagging against Rafe’s.

⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚

Rafe eyed Sofia perched up on the kitchen counter, her legs swinging rhythmically as he brought in the dishes. She was sipping at some wine, her heels kicked off on to the floor.

“I thought you stayed back to help me clear up huh?” He said, setting the dishes down in the sink.

“Fine, I’ll load the dishwasher then.”

“No leave it I’ll do it, just tell me, did I do ok? Do you think they liked me?” He was attempting to hide the bubbling insecurity frothing up inside of him, but he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“My mom for sure, my dad too, he was just being tough, don’t get too worked up by it.”

“How was I supposed to know it was his friend who lived there? And besides, it was a property deal– it’s not like I swooped under and stole his house from under his feet.”

“Well the new zoning laws kinda do make it seem that way Rafe.”

He stopped cleaning the dishes, turning to face her, “oh come on, you don’t agree with what he’s saying, do you?”

Sofia shrugged, reaching over to grab one of the appetisers that was left over, “the Cut is becoming more and more like Figure 8, rent is getting more expensive, people are leaving– it’s gentrification Rafe.”

“Sofia…come on, it’s business. That’s life. You want something and if you have the means to get it then you get it.” He’d left the dishes completely, striding over to her on the counter. Despite Sofia’s height advantage, he still managed to gain a couple inches on her. He knew Sofia had a different world view to him, she was sweeter, kinder. Where he was callous, she was soft. When he’d be judgmental she’d be empathetic. But they always found their way to a middle ground– that’s one of the things he loved about her.

“You’re speaking from a place of privilege, you need to see a different perspective like my dad said.”

“You mad at me now?” His face scrunched into a frown, the insecurity beginning to overflow.

“No I’m not mad, we’re allowed to disagree on things you know?”

“Fine ok. I’ll stick to properties on Figure 8, you happy?” Rafe didn’t know how true that was. He’d try and stick to it, but right now all he wanted was Sofia’s reassurance, and sweet talking and pretty promises was the way to it.

“Yeah?” She grinned, perking up.

“Yeah, now come here,” he mumbled, capturing her wine stained lips with a kiss.

“We still have to clean up Rafe,” she said, hooking her arms around his neck, her legs inching around his waist.

“Well you shouldn’t have worn that dress today– you know how hard it was to keep my eyes on your face when your parents were sitting right there?”

“Rafe!”

When things were like this, Rafe felt like he did have a family– Sofia was his family.

The thought of buying a new house, maybe a condo with an ocean view, settled in his mind. A fresh place where her could make new memories with her. Tannyhill was too suffocating, stuffed to the brim with painful reminders of the past.

She broke away from the kiss, leaving his lips trailing after hers as she rested her forehead against his own.

“Thank you for making such an effort with my parents today, I appreciate it.” Sofia said softly, face etched in sincerity.

Rafe’s heart soared in his chest, his effort never usually recognised, his good intentions usually falling flat.

But with her he felt seen. He felt understood. He felt loved.

Rafe smiled easily, pressing a kiss against her cheek, “no need to thank me.”

The two resumed their kisses, both tipsy from the alcohol, giddy from eachother before disappearing upstairs, leaving the dishes in the sink and the table yet to be cleared.

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#outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe and sofia #sofia outer banks #sofia obx #rafe x sofia #drew starkey #fiona palomo #rafe cameron thoughts #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fic #rafe and Sofia fic #rafe and Sofia fanfiction #rafe X Sofia fanfiction #outer banks season 4 #obx 4 #༊*·˚syren

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oonajaeadira · 3 months ago

Text

Okay, who wants to hear about today's moment of magic?

Long story under the cut.

So the SO and I are getting married next month. It's really not a big deal, we're literally going down to the courthouse with @feathersandfoxtails and another bestie on the anniversary of our first date, signing the papers and doing an at-the-counter ceremony. We've been together for 14 years and own a house and a dog together. When it comes to loving and pledging our lives to each other, it's something we've grown into and we choose each other every day. Our families know we're good for life, so there's really no reason to spend a bunch of money on a ceremony. We've got everything we need, we go on "honeymoons" all the time, and we're both theater people, so it's just another event to plan and stage manage and produce and honestly, we'd both just rather put on another show with that cash than have our moms get nuts about invite lists and catering choices.

ANYWAY. With 2025 looming and all the uncertainty it's bringing, I just want it to be official in the eyes of the state so that's never a question. This dude goes up to the cabinland by himself and builds cabins 7 feet off the ground and runs chainsaws and such. If he ends up in the hospital, I don't want to be turned away from holding his hand through an amputation, you know? He's the most honest, trustworthy, good-hearted man I've ever met (if not sometimes frustratingly stubborn about being right all the damn time), and we share the same taste in just about everything. He's an inch shorter than Pedro with shoulders just as broad and eyes just as brown and a good mix of Frankie and Pero and Din and he puts up with my weirdness and I'm not letting him go.

So at one point he asks me if I'd like a ring. And I said no, mostly because I have a million rings and I like to switch them out and I'm not going to be taking up a good finger with one ring forever. My ladybits may be monogamous, but I'm not forcing that on any of my fingers. (That came out wrong. Oh well.) Besides, he's in carpentry. He doesn't like jewelry, much less wear it.

"I would for you," he said.

Cue melting.

But. Also. Another unnecessary expense. (Also, in true mischief fashion, I want to keep the marriage a secret just to see the looks on people's faces when someone like my nosy aunt's like "when you getting married?" and I can say, "oh, we are. Anyway. Pass that turkey...")

And that was that. Until I saw the script they walk you through at the courthouse.

At first glance, it's pretty short, literally an exchange of "do you?/ I dos" and exchange of rings and signing of the certificate by all the parties. No changes allowed, no vows, no "you may kiss," just cut and dry, like 2 minutes tops.

*record scratch* Exchange of rings. No changes. Aw hell.

Cue my online auction addiction. Did I mention that I have an online auction addiction? Surprise! There's a lot of lakeside property in Minnesota and rich folks come and go, passing on or downsizing or whatnot, and there's always fun estate sales going on, which is where I get a lot of my instruments and fun witchy supplies.

Literally the day I read that marriage script and was wondering if I could just fish out some rings from my jewelry box to suffice, this auction came up:

What you are looking at are two antiquities, Viking-era brass rings circa 850 - 1050 CE, the gold plating is pitted and old, but they've been restored and preservation-sealed. I did a lot of research on them and the company that they came from (as well as digging up info on antiquities/museum relations and dealers that may come in handy for a Thief fic at one point), and they're the real deal.

The sizes weren't listed (they were packaged in conservation envelopes, the box is mine) and so I lowballed a bid and was surprised that nobody outbid me. That never happens.

I told the SO that I'd won them and he's like, cool, how do you know they'll fit? I said I didn't. They're not meant to be worn. We use them for the ceremony and then shadowbox and display them nicely. If they don't really fit properly, that's okay, they're only there to fulfill the script. I'm not really getting a fancy dress or anything like that, so we might as well have one little piece of magic on the day. I just thought ancient Viking rings would be cool because he loves history and I've got me some Scandinavian blood and Viking thighs.

But y'all. The magic continues. Because I picked them up today...

And they fit us. Exactly. I'm kinda freaking out about it.

Even my atheist SO looked at me and said, "Hot damn. It's like it's meant to be."

Damn straight, boyfriend. Damn straight.

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animereaderinsertwriter · 22 days ago

Text

supermassive black hole

Gojo is dangerous like a supernova. You're dangerous like a black hole. It isn't love at first sight, but it's something close.

tw violence and sex and porn with plot

Excerpt:

It's so funny that I laugh until tears are squeezing out of the corner of my eyes.

She looks up at me from her kill with dark-bright eyes. With her hands still covered in viscera, she reaches up to touch the sides of my face. I'm still hard for her, and grow harder as she touches me again, melting my infinity. I am powerless against her. My greatest weapon, my ultimate defense, is shattered under her soft, pliant hands.

It gets me off.

A/N I forgot if i posted this already or not so here you go. there will also be a part two which i will link here when it is up.

ao3 link

A hush falls over the room as she enters.

As well it might. This scene— a young woman entering the privy council— has not been seen for nigh on a century. Out of curiosity, I myself don't dare to speak or even breathe as she enters. I'd hate to miss the disappointed faces of those old farts as she crashes their party. Every moment of victory must be savored, after all— and I do love the taste of victory, even one so small as this one.

Silk fabric whisks as she moves. Her formal robes are a discreet and tasteful mourning black, but at the hollow of her throat is nestled a red diamond— not a garnet or ruby, but a diamond in its rarest coloring. No doubt she wears it for us as a symbol of her indomitable will and impeccable breeding: a diamond for strength and elegance, red for rarity and for blood. It is a statement piece meant to remind us of who and what she is.

As if we could forget it.

“Yo,” I greet her finally, smiling toothily.

I know I look pale and wolfish under the fluorescent lights. It's part of my charm. The other four men in the room just look pale, and are without charm entirely— a tragedy. I would prefer it if everyone were as charming as me, or at least as pretty. It might not make me like them more, but it might make the whole experience of these meetings more bearable.

The esteemed and lovely newcomer doesn't acknowledge me, but her eyes slide from my sunglasses to my chest and back up. I resist the urge to tell her where my eyes are. Notably, no one else greets her, and she is certainly not welcomed by anyone, not even as a pretense to propriety.

They know she is here to enact change, and they do not like it.

I revel in it.

As the meeting commences, I catalog her features. It has been many years since I last saw her outside of an Instagram post— something that I begin to regret as I trace lightly with my eyes the sweet curve of her cheek, the whispering kiss of her gently curving lashes. It occurs to me as I watch her lips twist into a frown that she is prettier than she was in high school.

That is to say, very pretty.

I have always liked pretty things, and so much the better if they are sad or somehow tragic, too. And in her, there is an ineffable air of sadness that sets my teeth to itching.

It is uncommon for a woman to sit the privy council of elders. It is less common still that a woman under fifty should do so. It is only through great personal tragedy that a woman of her age and status sits the council. Her grandfather, the most recent seat, is lately deceased, her father conspicuously absent; her brother, rest his eternal soul, was a bloodline contender to inherit the seat, but alas, rather talentless, and therefore newly perished, leaving the seat to the nearest surviving relative. Sad, indeed— but it is not grief that weighs on her shoulders like a sandbag. I can feel it, smell it, taste it, her loneliness, like bitter wine.

It pairs well with mine.

“Focus, now,” says the nearest old man, white tufts of hair sticking out of his ears. “We must pick the catering company for our annual fundraiser. I haven't got all day, and we're off to a late start.”

And so the doddering begins.

It is inane, whatever they’re all saying. Fortunately, I am not without entertainment. I put my feet on the table and watch how those wizened brows furrow. It is fun to annoy them back whenever they annoy me. Seeing the soles of my shoes dirty their table makes them ornery on the best of days. Today, their glares are fairly murderous. The newcomer, though, does not react at all. Her silk-gloved hands rest laced together in her lap, and she pointedly does not react to anything or anyone at all.

As I watch her, it becomes clear that, sad and tragic or not, she is beginning to lose her patience. With what, I couldn't say— I never listen at these things anyway— but it's a safe guess that the doddering old fools are going on about something foolish or ineffectual. Her jaw clenches, then relaxes. The diamond at her throat shifts. For a moment, I believe that she will conquer her frustration, let it pass over and through her, until only the dignified daughter of sorcery titans remains.

She speaks, and that moment passes.

“Pardon me, reverend elders,” she says congenially, “I’m sure there is some fault in my understanding, but it seems to me that there are more important matters to discuss than what wine pairings we might consider for the council’s anniversary dinner. Might we table the cocktail conversation until a bit later?”

The two councilmen who had previously been yapping turn to look at her with outrage in their eyes. Her face remains open, as placid as a koi pond, and I grin.

Oh, but I do adore novelty!

“You are new to this council,”one of them replies, disgruntlement coloring his voice. “These decisions, while small, must be made.”

She's not having it.

“Any fool can select appropriate drinks.” She leans forward, eyes glinting sharp like steel. “What do you mean to do about the increased curse activity?”

The rest of the council hisses in unison. Whispers of insolent girl! and tactless upstart! cut like knives through the air. She remains unaffected. She's a woman after my own heart, and so I do the best I can to throw her a bone.

“What do you propose we discuss, then?”

She looks at me— through me and into me— and inclines her head in respect.

“I want to present a motion to the council.”

The other members stare uneasily at her. Their withered faces crease in concern and distaste, but they are bound by oath and by beloved tradition to hear her out. I gesture for her to take the floor, and she stands. Again, we are blessed with the image of her fine figure as she paces, panther-like, to the front of the room. She pauses there, thinking.

“We have been fools too long,” she says quietly. It is almost a strain to hear her. “Sorcerers have always been a reactionary force against curses. It's an inevitability, the nature of the beast— but we have stayed more on the back foot now than we have in centuries. More of us die. Less of us stay to complete our education.”

She moves again, allowing her words to settle uneasily over her audience. When she stops, I realize that she intentionally moved to stand next to the marble bust of an old, legendary sorcerer— her great-to-however-many-degrees grandfather. She looks strikingly like him, and I realize that her movement was more intentional than I initially thought.

“We lack understanding. We forget what our forefathers knew.”

She looks at her ancestor, then back to her audience. To me . I might as well not even have my sunglasses on for all I fail to hide from her. I feel sure that she can see my very soul.

“We do not succeed against curses because we are stronger, better, or more capable. We are weak, pitiful in comparison.” Well, maybe they are weak and pitiful. That's something I've never been— but I don't take the slight personally. “We have succeeded thus far only because we outsmart them. The jujutsu sorcerer’s academy has forgotten its purpose. It has abandoned its study in favor of militant strength. The clans, likewise, have followed suit. The academy— this council — has forsaken academia, spurned knowledge, and teeters on the edge of destroying us all.”

The elders sit and merely blink, nonplussed.

“And what are you suggesting we do, exactly?”

Her eyes harden. Leonine and lovely, she tilts her chin up in defiance before speaking again.

“I have assembled a team of excellent researchers— all brilliant, all with a pleasant pedigree. With the correct resources, I believe that I can turn them into a front-line reconnaissance task force whose purpose is to capture and study curses.” She pauses a moment, her brow creasing slightly. Then, she adds, “I believe that we can use them to suit our ends— more so than we already have. If a wolf can be tamed, so can curses. Perhaps one day there will be curses as loyal to us as dogs.”

It's brilliant, what she's suggesting— or, it would be if curses weren't manifestations of pure, actual evil . After all, why put human lives on the line when often one curse could do for another with relative ease? Once, it may have seemed that wolves were evil to men, and now their sons and daughters depend on rescue dogs, police canines, ans service dogs. And it isn't so terribly inconceivable that it could be done, taming curses— we just haven't tried yet. The benefit might just be worth the risk. After all, I knew someone once that made masterful use of the curses at his disposal.

The wound from him is still raw and bleeding. I try not to imagine his smile, but it's like trying not to think of elephants.

Ah, well— it's really a different thing from what she is suggesting and I know it. No one is capable of Suguru’s mastery of curses. At best, we would be trapping them, tracking them, and perhaps extracting information where we could. But who knows what such study could lead to? Human ingenuity has ensured the survival of the species for a very long time. Who's to say we couldn't develop new technology to aid us?

The elders all exchange glances. Then one nods and says,

“Of course, you're right. Assemble your task force, girl-child. We will provide whatever resources you require.”

“ Whatever resources ?” Her eyes narrow in suspicion. “You don't know what I'm asking for yet.”

“Of course, you will need to draw up an expenditure report for council approval, but you seem a level-headed girl. We trust that you will not ask more than we can give.”

It is a clear dismissal, but she does not sit down. She's no fool. It's clear that she knows what I know:

They're agreeing with her to shut her up.

More than that, I don't think they intend for her to live long enough to pester them about it.

Stubborn, she stands there for the rest of the meeting, arms folded. She's still, statuesque, but the pissed-off press of her lips against each other belie her serenity. I am possessed of a childish urge to pass notes to her like a schoolboy. Fuck them, I would write. You're onto something. We could change the world.

Instead I sigh loudly and crack a smile when I get not one but two glares out of it.

When it's all over, I catch up to her in the hall. Her posture is rigid and regal, a prideful measure against her painful dismissal. I touch her shoulder just to see if it feels real, or if it's made of the same steel as her backbone.

I'm almost surprised to find that she is supple and soft under my hand.

“Yo,” I greet her once more. “What a drag of a meeting, right?”

This is the wrong thing to say. I know it as soon as she stops short, eyes blazing.

“Gojo-san.” Her voice is polite and soft, but as cold as fresh snow. “How is your foot? I noticed you were elevating it earlier. I hope you aren't injured?”

“Oh, terribly injured,” I grin. “I'm positively lamed. Could I lean on your shoulder for support?”

Her eyes close. When they reopen, they make me wish I'd been less of a clown. They are tired, drawn, and I let my grin drop like the farce it is.

“Hey, don't look so glum. They wouldn't hate you so much if you weren't right.”

She thinks on that for a moment, then adds cooly,

“And a woman.”

I grin.

“And a young, pretty one at that.”

She hums noncommittally.

“How long do you think they'll let me live?”

I'm not prepared for the question. She looks at me deadly serious, and I know she wasn't fooled for a moment by those moth-eaten codgers. She knows their game as well as I do, and I feel a sudden strange kinship with her— as if I am seen for once by someone who knows. It is at once relieving and terribly, awfully sad, because I know the answer to her question.

“If they have their way, you'll be dead within the week,” I say, “but that's generous. They'll try for tonight.”

Really, from their point of view, the sooner they're rid of her the better. It will give her less opportunity to talk about her plan to others and notify her task force, and it would give them an excellent opportunity to simply close the seat and refuse to let anyone else in.

She nods thoughtfully. The diamond at her neck glistens, and I try not to stare.

“And if I survive tonight? The week? Will they try again?”

I shrug.

“Who's to say? Depends on how much you annoy them versus how powerful they think you are.”

I bend low enough for her to see behind my sunglasses and I give her a wink.

“That's where being the strongest comes in handy. I do so love to annoy them.”

She hums and appraises me.

“Do you know what my clan is known for, Gojo-san? What genes my father was hoping would be passed down to his children?”

I vaguely remember my own father saying something about her clan— something derogatory, like that they sucked the life out of things— but I politely do not bring that up and shake my head.

“Can I touch you, Gojo-san?”

Confused, I nod. She pulls the black glove from her right hand with her teeth gleaming white against the silky fabric. On instinct, I keep my infinity on as she reaches for my hand, looking for signs of treachery— but I find that my precaution doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter because she touches me anyway.

I jerk my hand away from her, feeling unnaturally wounded. Her touch— so cold and feather-light— had eaten away at the cursed energy of my infinity. If she had really wanted to, she could have harmed me then. It shakes me to my core. And yet, as I watch her put her glove back on, she does not look victorious or pleased at all with herself.

She looks sad.

“I inherited this— this hunger .”

I remember now what my father had said all those years ago. That her clan sucked the life out of people and curses alike.

I can only hope he meant that first bit metaphorically.

“I… should not have done that.” She avoids my gaze. “It was supposed to be a secret that this ability has resurfaced in my bloodline, a fail safe just in case—”

She looks at me uncomfortably then, and I understand all too well. She is my antithesis. If anything were to happen to me, if I were somehow compromised…

Well. Someone would have to neutralize me. I just never imagined that someone existed who could .

“But I don't like secrets,” she continued. “I think instead of fighting each other, we should help each other. Consider that a gesture of good will. I want to live long enough to see my task force through.”

“Does it make you stronger?”

The question seems to catch her off guard.

“Your technique. Does it make you stronger when you siphon someone else's energy?”

“Yes,” she admits. “When I absorb cursed energy, it supplements my own.”

It all starts to make sense. If sorcerers focus their energy into capturing curses and keeping them alive for study, then their cursed energy would provide a steady flow of power directly to her. I don't know if she could store that power up for later use, but regardless, easy access to ethically-sourced cursed energy to consume is something from which she stands to benefit from.

Perhaps altruism is dead then. Still— I must know if it ever meant anything, all that talk about knowledge and academia and change, or if that was as shallow as it seems to me now.

So I ask.

Her answer surprises me.

“I meant every word.” Her voice is soft. When she looks at me, her eyes are softer. “I think I can use my abilities to subdue curses more easily, to frighten and manipulate them. I'd at least like to give it a shot.”

She seems… genuine. I lean down, studying her, and the curious absence of fear in her eyes suddenly makes sense. She has no reason to fear me. Well, perhaps she has some reason— I'm a large man, and that goes more than a little ways in a physical tussel— but as far as cursed energy goes, anything I throw at her is fuel for her own abilities.

She intrigues me.

“Spend the evening with me.”

That gets a reaction. She flinches bodily backward, almost as if I'd asked to take a bite out of her.

“Why?”

I shrug.

“Why not?”

It will sound egotistical if I tell her it's because I'd like to protect her, to deter any assassins at least until tomorrow. It will sound even worse if I tell her that she makes me curious. So I don't tell her any of that. Instead, I let her look at me and hold her gaze until she makes her decision.

“Do you mind if I drop by my apartment and change?” she asks. “I don't want to wear my formals all evening.”

“Of course.”

We go together to her place. We exit the venue into the lowering light of five o’clock, and when she leads me through the train stop turnstile, I expect to take the train out to a country estate. We don’t. Instead, we take the train into the city proper. Two blocks from the train station— two blocks that I struggle to slow my strides enough to match hers— we come upon a coffee shop. It is surrounded by trees planted in the allies on either side that shade the building, and in passing I catch a glimpse of a green and brown painted birdhouse that seems to have a group of chipper and chirping tenants on one of the trees. (Y/N) smiles softly at them, then opens the door to the coffee shop for me.

“You can wait here, if you'd like,” she tells me, nodding to the empty but comfortable-looking seating, “or you can come with me up to my flat, whichever you prefer. I'll only be a few minutes.”

I shrug.

“I don't want to impose, but I'd love to see your home.”

She smiles, then leads me wordlessly towards the back of the shop. Along the way, she touches the shoulders of waiters and waitresses who smile and greet her warmly. The barista behind the counter wolf whistles at her, and she laughs and makes a rude gesture with her fingers. Abruptly, I realize what this looks like— what we look like— and I can't help but grin.

She leads me up a set of stairs at the back of the coffee shop. Her key turns in the lock, and then I find myself stepping into a small but homey living room.

“Sorry it's messy,” she says, “but I promise we won't be here long.”

She disappears around the corner, leaving me alone to observe her living room in silence.

I don't think her home is messy. I've seen Yuji’s room. That is messy. This place is just… full. Full of books stacked haphazardly on end tables, plants sitting on window sills, and teacups left on the coffee table. There are even photos of people that I can only assume are her family and friends strewn about like so much decorative shrapnel across the room. It's nice in a way I can't explain.

My own home is… not full. It's got designer everything and sparkling countertops and an unbelievably talented cleaning staff, but not… this. I find my place the lesser for it.

When she reenters, my breath catches. She's wearing sneakers, shorts, and a T-shirt. It de-ages her by years. In this moment, she looks closer to Yuji's age than mine. Although I know logically that she's my equal or more in age, she seems small and fragile in comparison to who she had been mere moments ago. The her-that-is and the her-that-was are so different that I can hardly recognize her now.

“Let's go,” she says, smiling up at me. “If we stay up here any longer, the shop owner will never let me live it down that I've brought a man home.”

Oh, but there is some aching in that smile. I surmise that she's been lonely in more ways than I have been. A pity. If I had known…

I push that thought away. I didn't know, and I didn't make it my business to know. She's not the kind of girl I usually go for. For my more… human needs, I stay as far away from sorcerer society as possible, and with good reason. Still, it dampens my mood— spoiled brat that I am, I covet pretty things.

And she is so very pretty.

Idly, I wonder what kind of lover she'd be as she leads me down the stairs. Each step brings a new image; one moment, she's kneeling in my mind's eye, sweet and so very submissive, like a pink-nosed bunny— the next, she's got her hands like talons in my hair, yanking it by the roots. By the time we reach the last wooden stair, I'm imagining her whispering sweet nothings as she strokes her strap, and I nearly trip when I realize she's stopped short in front of me.

“Did you hear me?” she asks, turning, and I'm so very grateful that my knee-jerk reaction to embarrassment is a shit-eating grin. If it wasn't, I feel certain my expression would give less sly arctic fox and more stunned snow hare.

“No, sorry, I was distracted. What was it you were saying?”

“I was asking if you had a place in mind for us to go.”

As a matter of fact, I do have a place in mind. I nod but say nothing, offering her my arm. She takes it; I notice her warmth against me as we step out into the chill of the impending evening. Twilight settles over the street as we walk, and I'm suddenly very glad that she is pressed against me as I notice that my suspicions are confirmed.

A man is following us.

Back when I suggested that we spend the day together, I had suspected someone might tail us straight from the council meeting. On the train here, I'd thought we'd lost him. I was wrong. The man, clad in gray heather sweatpants and hoodie, trails lazily behind us just as he had earlier in the day. At this purple-gray hour of the day, he seems almost to blend into the sidewalk. It's not enough to fool me, though.

I stop walking in front of a downtown club with a line out into the street. (Y/N) looks up at me, at once suspicious and perplexed, and I can't find it in myself to blame her for her skepticism. She doesn't seem like the clubbing type, and we are just a little bit too old to be at this club. Still, though, we pass as younger than we are, and this is familiar territory for me— one of my old haunts as a teenager with outrageous amounts of money and a fake ID. This is my turf, and I have a plan.

I skip the line, show the bouncer my ID, and walk into the club. The man in gray stands in the queue, posture lazy, but I can tell I've frustrated him already. It won't work for long, though. He'll get through the line eventually. I just hope to buy us some time to talk before that.

The inside of the club is dark. Red, blue, and purple lights spin across the dance floor, and black lights back light the bar. The smell of weed, liquor, and sweat fill my nose, and at once I feel completely at home, finally in a place that understands me. Here, I am not Gojo Satoru. Here, I'm just a man, same as anyone.

When I look down, (Y/N) is also not herself. She is suddenly closed off and cold; beautiful, she is like an ice sculpture of a serene and sacred deity as her skin reflects the black light. It is not the desired effect. I want her comfortable, even pliant.

I want her receptive.

Reluctant though she is, she lets me lead her to the bar. There, I buy a shot and offer it to her.

“Here, drink this.”

She eyes it skeptically, then meets my eyes with a dark look.

“I don't drink.”

I grin and up the pressure.

“I don't buy that.”

“Okay. I don't drink alone with strange men in strange clubs.”

“I insist.”

She shakes her head.

“I think this was a mistake.” She's all ice now, brittle, cold, defensive— but still so very lovely. “I'll be going now, Gojo-san.”

She turns on her heel. If it wasn't for my long arms, I'd never have caught her before she slipped away. Thankfully, I manage to catch her, and as my fingers close around her arm, I pull her back to me with a force I don't intend. She stumbles with the motion, and our noses brush.

Maybe it’s proximity that prompts what I decide next— or maybe it's because it's always worked before, or because I have so very wanted to see how it would feel from the moment I touched her shoulder— but regardless of the reason, I kiss her. It is a simple kiss, but full power. Our lips press together, and I cup the back of her skull in my hand. I can all but hear her heart pounding as I pull away, body all a-tingle with the thrill of her.

Her eyes are heavy, half-lidded. I think I have her. With our noses still only inches apart, I say,

“Take the shot.”

A wide range of emotion flickers over her features in a fraction of a second. Among these, I see sharp hurt, a laughing, incredulous face of shock, then searing outrage— and that's where she settles. She snatches the shot glass from my hand, slams it back, then slaps me so hard across the face that my ears ring.

“How dare you,” she rages, slamming the glass down on the bar. “How— how dare you!”

Oh, she's furious with me.

She's right to be. I was selfish. How long has it been since someone has kissed her with that kind of tenderness, I wonder— and how cruel was it that I had done so without thought or intention outside of getting my way? But even now with the taste of her chapstick in my mouth, I can't bring myself to regret it. She was too sweet. Like a wolf licking his chops from the first bite of game, I hunger for more. It's an animal feeling, terrible and true. I fight it as best I can.

“Look, I'm sorry,” I tell her, holding up my hands. “I just wanted it to seem like we were having a good time.”

I lean in, lowering my voice.

“We're being watched.”

Nothing in her body language changes. Her fists are planted on her hips and her face is furious enough to light a match without striking it. Oh, but her eyes— her eyes tell me she's caught onto me.

“Why didn't you lead with that?” she asks, crossing her arms. “My skill has always been in finesse, Gojo-san.”

To prove her point, she turns her back on me, making our little squabble seem ongoing to an outside perspective. I have no doubt that she's scanning the upper floor, so I hug her from behind and press my face into her neck.

“Second floor and to the right, leaning on the banister.”

She hums.

“Monochrome gray?”

“That's the one. I want to draw him out, see if he'll strike.”

She hums a noise of assent and tilts her head back to allow more room for me to breathe against her neck.

To the rest of the world, our passing of information looks like a steamy make-up from a toxic, annoying PDA couple. Any passer-by would be fooled by it. It's impressive, really. My body, too, is fooled. There is a stirring inside me that asks in a still, small voice if I can't push my luck and ask for more of what I started— but I shove that greedy little voice down, because while I am a man of voracious appetites, I do have a modicum of decency.

And besides, my face still hurts from that slap.

As I hold her, I realize that I don't really mind the feeling of her siphoning my energy. I test it out a few times by initiating skin-to-skin contact purposefully, but on the whole, it just sort of feels like a cold tingling— like being touched briefly by a mellow, maybe drunken Jack Frost.

“How does it work?” I ask, pressing my cheek against hers.

“My technique?”

“Yes.”

She turns to look at me, bringing our noses closer together once more.

“I'm going to need more liquor if you want me to explain it in very much detail.”

So I buy her two more shots and then a bottle of soju, and she talks. Apparently, her technique doesn't rely on touch, which makes sense because she couldn't have touched me anyway with my infinity active. As long as the cursed energy she wants to siphon is within a certain range, all bets are off.

“Of course, there are limits,” she says, touching my hand, “and certain… nuances. It works even better if I'm actually touching someone, for example— but that's the gist.”

I nod, thinking. I move my hand away from hers and tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The gray man watches us still, and I decide to up the ante.

“Let's dance,” I say with a grin, and, sufficiently lubricated by my financial investment in her inebriation, she lets me pull her to the dance floor.

I have always loved to dance, but dancing at this club in particular has always been on a whole other level of fun. The DJ— who’s got to be a hundred years old by now, and his gold chains probably weigh more than he does— always plays the strangest but totally sickest mixes of modern EDM and 80’s disco music in existence. As she and I hit the dance floor, a mix of dubstep and Let’s Groove Tonight starts playing, and my face splits into a grin. To my surprise, my dance partner looks equally as enthusiastic. Her smile is radiant, and her hips start moving in a way I really, really like.

We dance for what feels like ages. We don't touch very much at first; we just sort of skirt around one another and allow the tension in the air around us to ease as our limbs loosen and move to the beat. Eventually, though, we warm to one another, and I find myself holding her hips from behind as she moves tantalizingly against me— not quite grinding, but not quite not grinding either. The temptation of it all makes me crazy. I should never have started us on this path of teasing, not-quite-intimacy, but then her hand snakes up to rest at the base of my neck, and I forget myself. Her touch is warm, but the feeling of her siphon is cold. I freeze, I burn, I ache— and she laughs as my hand sneaks a little ways up the front of her shirt.

In response, she presses harder against my front, and I manage to bite back a groan.

“I've been thinking,” I say, leaning down so that my lips brush her ear. She shivers, and instead of feeling victorious, I feel voracious.

“About what?”

Her breath is coming quickly now. My hand moves further upwards, feeling the icy burn of her skin against mine. She's so soft. I love it.

“Your abilities. Give me details. Tell me how they want you to… end me, if that's what they want.”

“Ideally?” She grinds backwards— actually grinds— and I let my head tilt back. The press of her ass against me is a hell of a heaven. “I'm not so sure. It depends on what I think I can get away with.”

I squeeze her hip with my other hand.

“Give me a hypothetical.”

“Well… hypothetically, if you weren't predisposed to trusting me, then I'd just do what I did earlier and use my technique to slip past your infinity and make quick work of you with a blade or a gun.”

She shivers as I push my luck and nibble at her ear before I reply.

“That easy, huh?”

It might work. She'd have to make it a headshot, and even then it would be a gamble that she could stop my reverse curse technique with her ability. It could conceivably be done, but not without difficulty.

“Well, there are… complications.” She's breathing heavy now, and I can feel her heart beat fast as I pull her completely flush against me. “I don't have your reach or your physical prowess. It would be a gamble at best, and I prefer more sure odds.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.”

She turns, then, but doesn't move far from me. My half-hard cock presses against her belly, and her hands travel up my arms to my shoulders. They rest there, reaching up to play with the ends of my hair.

“And if I was predisposed to trust you?”

She looks up at me faux-sweetly then, and with the saccharine sharpness of a vampiress, she says,

“I would bring you into my bed, press the length of our bodies together, and consume your power until there was nothing left.”

I arch over her, angling myself so that she can see my eyes shining from behind my sunglasses.

“And you're certain that you could bring me to your bed? I might not be so easy.”

She touches me. Her hand finds the hardness in my uniform pants, squeezes it through the fabric. Her expression is at once soft and sharp, like a pillow made of barbed wire. In the red-blue-purple lights of the club, she glows.

“Yes.”

Something between us shatters then. We don't dance anymore, and our eyes are locked. It's horrible. It's a trap. It’s heaven. I know, I know it's stupid, but I lean forward to kiss her again, and she lets me. I cup her cheek with a too-big hand; it freezes and burns. I deepen the kiss, chasing more, more, more — but when my tongue slips past her lips, I feel a teardrop wet the base of my thumb.

“Don't cry,” I murmur, resting my forehead against hers. “Why are you crying?”

She shakes her head, and I hold her.

“I never wanted it,” she says, shoulders trembling. “I don't want to use my abilities to do harm. Not like this. I— I'm a lover girl. If I could quit being a sorcerer and move to a villa on the coast, I would, but— but I can't. ”

“Why not?”

“Duty.” She says it as though it's the most obvious thing in the world. “Honor. Family. I have a responsibility here.”

Jesus Christ. I can never let her meet Nanami. Give them ten minutes in a room together and they'd talk themselves into retiring to Malaysia.

But then she continues, and I wish I could fly her to Malaysia myself.

“They’d want me to m-make sure you f-finish ,” she says, tears squeezing out from the corners of her eyes. “It's been a topic of conversation that— that our bloodlines—”

She can't finish. She doesn't need to. It's so cruel and yet so very unsurprising that rage rises in my chest, frightfully strong and burning like a house fire. I feel a terrible grin crack my face, and I don't need to see her terrified expression to know I look like a monster.

“I'm going to kill them, you know,” I tell her, half-manic. How dare they? She could kill them if she wanted. Instead, she lets them make her cry. Pathetic. “It's the least they deserve for treating us like dogs. Fucking eugenics— evil bastards.”

She shrugs.

“Once they've done for me, there will be no one able to stand in your way of it.”

“Would you?”

“Would I what?

“Stand in my way.”

She thinks for a minute, then shakes her head.

“No. No, I wouldn't, Gojo-san.”

I kiss her again. Her arms wrap themselves around my shoulders again, and I give into my desires. I pull away and murmur into her ear:

“Call me by my name.”

She hesitates.

“Gojo?”

I shake my head.

“Not that one.”

I nip at her ear, so my name comes out as a gasp.

“Satoru.”

My own name has never sounded so sweet. She trembles and shakes as I kiss her neck, and I think I have her. How could I not? She's so responsive and soft and sweet and lovely beneath my hands— but then she shoves me away. Or, she tries to. All she does is move my shoulder a bit. Still, I give her space, and I realize her tears have not stopped.

“I don't play games like this. I don't— I don't. ” I can see her shaking still and ache to hold her. I restrain myself. “It's too cruel, Satoru. This play-acting at intimacy—”

She hiccups, and I realize she's drunk.

“I've hated you,” she admits. Her eyes are tortured, and she stumbles as a dancing stranger bumps into her. I touch her arm to steady her, but she rips herself away from me. “I've watched you from afar and I have hated you because you're powerful. You're powerful and attractive and wealthy, and you're disrespectful because you can afford to be while the rest of us have to— to play by a different set of rules.”

I watch her with a new respect for her volatility. She's like a cornered dog right now, trembling and snarling with fear. If ever the gray-clad man were to attack, it should be now, while she's distracted with me, but he's nowhere to be found. I should be concerned about that, but I can't be. All I can think of is the memory of her smile, and what I might have done wrong to make it go away.

“But today— today you're on my side against the elders. Today you call me pretty and you kiss me like— like I belong to you, and even after I admit to being told to— to kill you eventually, you just hump me and get off to what tortures me. It's wrong, Satoru! You don't like girls like me— ordinary girls, the kind that swoon over wealth and strength and opulence— and I don't like men like you!”

This feels… different. Usually when girls say they hate me, it's because they secretly wanna fuck me or be me. Now, though… I’m not sure. I try to think what Suguru might say if he were here, but it all comes out wrong. He might tell me that I've been foolish, to give the girl some space and let her work through whatever she's got going on without me. Or maybe he'd tell me I've been selfish, that I want her because I've been all but told I can't have her— because it wouldn't make sense for me to have her— and to think of her feelings instead of my own. Maybe he wouldn't even say anything at all.

Whatever the case, there's only one thing I can do, one person still living that I can listen to.

So I listen to myself.

“And what kind of man am I?”

She eyes me warily.

“A dangerous one.”

True enough. I dry my mouth from where her saliva still lingers, branding and marking me hers.

“And you don't like danger?”

She hesitates.

“No.”

It sounds like a lie even to my untrained ears.

“Then you don't like it when I kiss you?” I take a step forward, advancing on her. “When I touch you? When I bite your ear and make you say my name?”

She shivers.

“No.”

Another lie.

“You don't think it would be hot to take me home with you tonight? To prove your little barista right about me?”

“No.”

Lie.

We're nose-to-nose now. I bend so she can see over the top of my glasses, and sharing her breath, I say,

“So then you definitely don't get off on siphoning my cursed energy— on touching the untouchable?”

“N—”

Before she can lie again, I grab her and pull her in close.

“I think you're a liar. What's more, I think you're lying because all this time you've told yourself that you couldn't have me, that it would be a sin to want the man that everyone wants.”

I grin.

“Well, you can have me. It's not a sin to want me. It doesn't make you less , or a drooling fangirl or something. It means you are human, and that you have the good sense to want the same things that I want.”

Well, maybe that's not quite true. I'm not sure that she wants to crawl inside my ribcage and live there, but then her best friend isn't dead and her life isn't one big, rich, god-like sex joke. If she had all the issues I have, I feel sure she'd want me in the same way.

“I'm supposed to kill you someday,” she protests, and I laugh.

“Yeah, and how's that working out? Feeling homicidal yet?”

Oh, yes— her steel backbone is coming back to her. I can see it in her eyes as she sizes me up.

“Maybe.”

“Good. I like that in a woman.”

She shakes her head at me, incredulous. I crack a grin. The music around us is still loud, and there are dancing bodies all around, but she and I are still. It's so silly that I can't help but giggle a little, and then she's smiling too. Before long, we're both laughing, and I hug her to my chest as we both cackle in hysterics.

“Take me back to your place. I want to buy you a coffee.”

She looks up at me, perplexed but still giggling.

“What?”

“I want to buy you a coffee.”

“Huh? Why?”

I move her to arm’s length away and look deep into her eyes.

“Because I want you to remember everything when I”— blow your back out, fuck you so good you forget my name and yours — “make love to you tonight.”

***

“So, have you always played pretend like this?”

The incandescent light of the coffee shop illuminates her with a lovely golden light that does wonders for her eyes. As I watch her sip sleepily from a ceramic mug, I think the drinks combined with the stressful day and passionate making out in the cab has finally caught up to her. The caffeine will perk her up soon, but I almost don't want it to. Watching her settle back into the soft, comfy chair that the owner reserves for her is almost adorable and endearing enough for me to set aside my desire.

Almost.

“I don't think I know what you mean,” she yawns.

“You have plenty of money, and you're an heiress to a large estate in the countryside. You could live there, but you don't. You could have your own car, or you could have a personal chauffeur, and yet your taxi whistle is unmatched. So, let me ask again— do you always pretend to be a poor person, or is this a new thing for you?”

She huffs a laugh. She doesn't know it, but she's glowing, radiant with the energy she's consumed from me today. Thanks to my reverse curse technique, I don't feel a strain from it at all— but of course, that's only her passive siphon. I have no doubt she could have drawn more from me if she had wanted.

“It's not new, exactly. When I turned old enough, I got myself emancipated from my parents and fucked off here to live in the city. They cut me off, naturally, but between my work with Jujutsu High and working weekends as a barista, I did just fine.”

Her expression falls.

“Of course, I ended up with everything anyway, in the end. Funny how life works.”

I know what she means.

“So, this is home now?”

She nods.

“Always. It's… hard sometimes, knowing I could have more luxury in my life if I wanted it, but that lifestyle doesn't feel properly mine. No, I'm satisfied here— and hardly poor by anyone's standards but yours.”

Satisfied— not happy. Still, I think of my own empty home and shut the fuck up.

“Well, I don't really expect you to understand though,” she says slyly, raising her brows. “ Gojo-sama . Do you ever play poor?”

The honorific is properly teasing, but it still hits too close to home.

“No, never. I like to do whatever I want too much for that.”

She hums.

“I do envy your free spirit. Were your parents just as free-spirited as you?”

“No.” No one is. But that stands to reason— no one is as close to godhood as I am. “I learned to be this fabulous all on my own. Suguru always said—”

I stop myself, but it's too late. She doesn't push me, but she does offer me her hand. Palm up on the table, her hand seems softer than it has a right to be.

If she only had known how much like him she would seem in this moment, she'd never have been so kind to me; if she had known how that one single wordless gesture would make me ache, I know she would have spared me the pain of it. But she could not know. She could not know because we had been in different years in high school, and so she would never have known Geto Suguru the way that I did. And now he's dead. No one will ever know him the way that I did ever again.

I place my hand in hers.

“Tell me about him,” she says.

So I do.

I tell her how dear he was to me, how very like a second self he was. I tell her how much I miss him. I avoid the worst parts, the parts that hurt and the parts that feel too good, but I make sure she knows the important bits.

“Did you love him?” she asks me, squeezing my hand.

“Of course I did.” I still do.

“No, Satoru. Did you love him?”

No one has ever put it to me quite like that. That she has done so makes her once again so Suguru-esque that it makes me ache and ache and ache .

“I… don't know,” I tell her truthfully. “I don't know that I could… love a man in that sense. If I could, it would be Suguru that I would love. But he's gone now.”

“Do you believe in soulmates?”

The question catches me off guard. I shrug in self-defense.

“Anything's possible, I suppose.”

“I do believe in soulmates.” Her eyes are so impossibly soft, but not pitying. In this moment, I love her for that. “And I believe that's what he was to you. It doesn't matter if it was romantic or not, or if it could have been. From the way you talk about him, I believe he was a part of your very soul.”

She squeezes my hand again.

“And that means that he's still with you. He probably always will be. But Satoru— you can't carry him alone.”

I don't trust myself to speak, so I just nod. Maybe she's right. Maybe I should share him with her, let her carry that part of me for a while.

I consider that for all of two seconds before it occurs to me that she might like him much more than she likes me— Suguru was always more measured, more grounded than me— and in a fit of jealousy I dismiss the idea entirely. I don't care if it's insane. I couldn't bear to lose her to him or vice versa even in the recesses of my imagination. I've never been a jealous man— jealous of what? Of whom? Who could ever have more than me, something that I could covet?— but I'm green with it as I think of her sitting in his lap, straddling his broad thighs—

Now, that is provocative.

I hate it.

She's mine, and you're dead, Sugu. Let me have this.

His teasing laugh haunts me, and my chest fucking hurts.

“Steel yourself, Gojo Satoru,” she chides me as I grip her hand tight like it's a lifeline. “You don't look yourself when you aren't smiling.”

“He’s dead.”

“I know.”

“I killed him.”

“You’re a sorcerer. We're sorcerers. We often meet more gruesome fates than murder. At least it was by your hand and not by some curse.” She sets down her coffee cup and places her other hand over mine. “One day, you'll be able to forgive yourself. Until then, be merciful. You can do little else but live in spite of it all.”

I'm not in love with her. It's too much, too soon— but that's very much what it feels like when I look at her across the table and she looks back at me, through me once more. It wouldn't take much, I know, to fall for her. It wouldn't take hardly anything at all.

“Come upstairs,” she says. “The shop is about to close, and I've got some sweets up there to cheer you up and settle my stomach.”

“Do you think we're soulmates?”

I feel myself ask the question before I've thought it through. For a moment, I fear I've made a miscalculation, but then she smiles at me, and all is well.

“I couldn't say for certain— it's probably too soon to tell. What do you think?”

“I don't know either,” I lie. “Guess we'll have to find out.”

When the door to her home closes behind her and the lock clicks shut, something in the air shifts. She turns to look at me, loose and languid, and I grin. She bares her teeth in turn, and a thrill of danger, run, turn back tingles its way up my spine. Not much can get my adrenaline pumping like this, I think. But oh, her eyes are sharp.

“Bedroom?” I suggest, cheeky.

She raises a brow over her predatory grin.

“So eager already?”

“What, is several hours of prolonged foreplay not enough for you?” I tease. “Should we go back to the privy council and let them get your blood up first? I do so like passion in a woman.”

She walks toward me, body slow and graceful. At first, I think she's going to kiss me, but the moment I lean in, she curves and steps in a circle around me. Tease. I have no doubt that if she were a cat, her tail would be swishing.

“You are aware that this isn't one of your regular hookups, yes?” she says, her voice at once light and serious. She comes round to stand in front of me again, and a pointed forefinger presses into the center of my chest. “You can't expect this to be normal after all we've said today— unless I’m wrong and you regularly exchange trauma with your hookups, it seems to me that we're doing a bit of a different thing here.”

“Very different,” I assure her. “Can you handle that?”

She flashes me a steel-sharp grin.

“I cut my teeth on men like you, Gojo Satoru.” She drags her finger down my front, tracing a line of sensation from my chest down my to my stomach and all the way to the place where my happy trail meets my pants. “I told you, I'm a lover girl. How else do you think the elders expected me to seduce you if I hadn't whetted my blade on sex and heartbreak? Whatever comes, I'll be just fine.”

The implications of that are too much for me in this moment. To think that the elders had gone so far as to manipulate her love life— I have no doubt that they arranged for certain boyfriends to teach her what they wanted her to know, then to hurt her, break her heart and treat her like shit until…

I don't want to think about it. Those men have no place here. They aren't me, and I am not them.

“Good to know,” I say, “Except, you're forgetting something.”

A brow raises.

“Oh?”

I lean down until our breaths are one.

“There are no men like me.”

I kiss her then, and she kisses me back. At first, I expect shyness, a modest timidity that builds into something more bold. She very quickly turns that expectation on its head. She kisses me with clear intent, one hand fisted painfully in my hair and the other touching me through my pants. She's wild and harsh and beautiful. I am already half in love with her when she takes my bottom lip between her teeth, and I fall the rest of the way when she pushes me backwards and orders me onto the couch.

She mounts my lap. I squeeze one of her breasts as she settles. She's soft and sweet under my touch, and when she finally sits fully on my lap, the delicious pressure of our clothes sexes pressed against one another is almost too perfect.

We kiss filthy, dirty, nasty— she sucks on my tongue, and I pull her hips forward, guiding her into grinding. She touches my cheek, my jaw, my ear, the base of my skull; I hiss as she pulls my hair sharply. I move with the pulling on instinct, baring my neck, and she licks a long, hot, wet line up my throat like a vampiress about to sink her teeth into her victim. Her hips move on their own now, and I feel flayed alive by the freezing, searing heat of her siphon.

“You're so easy,” she murmurs in my ear as my cock strains in my pants. “This all it takes to get you going?”

She says that like she isn't plucking my strings and playing me like a harp— but then she's taking her shirt off, and I start to lose my mind. Her tits are perfect — as soon as she unhooks her bra, I make sure she knows it. I suck on them, play with them, and leave perfectly-shaped hickeys all in a row, marking them mine ; the gasps and heady moans she gives me for it is almost as good as the act itself.

Suddenly, she moves. It startles me, and I find myself bereaved, wishing for her warmth. I'm not sad for long, though.

“Bedroom,” she says breathlessly, chest heaving, “and lose the pants.”

She leads me to her bed, losing clothes as she goes. Her shoes, socks, and shorts soon litter the hallway like shrapnel, and I follow suit. In the doorway to her bedroom, my boxers get hung on my foot; she's apologizing for something— I catch the words messy and been busy — but then the world narrows as a shadow darkens the window next to her nightstand.

The gray man has come.

One instant he's at the window, the next he's leaping at his quarry with a knife. By the time he lands, though, she's no longer there. In the space of a fractured blink, she’s behind him, stepping into his moon-thrown shadow, and before I can do anything, her bare hand flares sun-like with cursed energy and she plunges it fully into the man’s back. He makes a sound like tires screeching, but the sound stops as suddenly as it began.

She rips his spine from his body.

She tosses it aside like so much garbage. Where she stands, the moonlight should illuminate her, but curiously, she stands in a perfect circle of shadow. Abruptly, I realize that she has not revealed all of her hand to me. Her technique isn't just a siphon, and it doesn't just absorb cursed energy. It's a vacuum.

It's a black hole.

I stare at her, stunned.

Then I grin.

“My, my,” I purr, “What on earth was that?”

She looks at the mutilated corpse on the floor and then back up at me. Then, she shrugs.

“I played a lot of Mortal Kombat as a kid.”

A hyena cackle escapes me before I can even think. No wonder the elders thought mixing our blood would be so beneficial. I am a shield, bright-flashing in the dark like the moonlight. She is a blade in the shadow, swift and sharp. With the kind of power she's putting out now and the new information I've gathered about her technique, I'm sure that she could level a city with sheer cursed energy output.

In a flash of euphoric homicidal urge, I wonder how long it would take the two of us to destroy the entire world together. A day? No, not that long. Hours.

It's so funny that I laugh until tears are squeeze out of the corner of my eyes.

As I work to calm my hysterical laughter, I survey the corpse on the floor. I did not think that the elders would use a human unblessed by cursed energy to do this job. It seems too cruel, even for them— but she does not seem to care. She looks up at me from her kill with dark-bright eyes, and with her hands still covered in viscera, she reaches up to touch the sides of my face. I'm still hard for her, and grow harder as she touches me again, melting my infinity again . I am powerless against her. My greatest weapon, my ultimate defense, is shattered under her soft, pliant hands.

It gets me off.

We kiss. This kiss feels different than the others, though. Somehow it's deeper, more intense; it leaves a hollowness in my chest, a burning-freezing-empty feeling that sucks inward, pulling and pulling—

I breathe her name. Again. Again . She's not listening. Her eyes are half-lidded as she draws deeply from my cursed energy, and I panic as I realize that the empty, sucking, hungry feeling is the sensation of her draining me past what she should be, past what I can bear—

I shove her away from me. That seems to jolt her out of it, but her eyes are still so very distant that a thrill of fear shakes me like airplane turbulence.

“So much,” she murmurs, finally meeting my eyes. “It’s an ocean. How do you bear it? Adrift? Floating?”

She means my cursed energy. Of course— I remember when I was first awakened to that great and terrible power. My reaction was not unlike her own. Distantly, I wonder if I was as frightening as she is in this moment.

“Anchored,” I answer. “You must anchor yourself. Find your moorings, pretty thing, and the storm will pass.”

I hold out my hand to her. When she lowers herself to her knees instead of taking it, I'm startled. For a brief moment, I contemplate whether or not letting her touch me again is truly wise, but then she kisses the head of my cock, and all thought shatters. Her tongue traces my slit, and I'm lost.

Whatever I had expected, it was not this. It was not a submission so powerful that it feels like dominance. She has a hold on me so powerful that I find myself genuinely frightened.

As she places her hands, bloody and warm, on my trembling thighs, I am subsumed in her. She touches me like she loves me, like she is me, and her mouth is sweeter than anything I've known. Her hands grip my ass; she uses that grip to guide my hips, pushing me deeper into her throat. She takes more and more of me, sucking and licking and making a mess, and then in a stroke of real genius, she dips down to suckle at my balls, letting my cock rub sweetly against the side of her face. She is filth and sin and salvation, and in her, I am undone.

I come too fast, but she is not dissatisfied. Her hands move to her own chest, touching in sweet circles, and she shudders, letting her head fall back. Her skin shines red with blood as she finger-paints her own pleasure. I imagine that the temptation to touch herself even with those bloodstained hands is hot and tight in her chest, quelled only by her iron will and a fear of an unfortunate hygiene mishap.

Oh, but I am not and never have been one for much restraint. I'm a rich son of a rich son. I wait for nothing I want, and I see no reason why she should either.

She startles when I move closer to her, crouching. Her eyes widen as I suck my own fingers into my mouth and then press them against her sex. It is as though she did not expect me to want to participate in her pleasure.

As if I'd pass it up. I'm the strongest after all— in the streets and the sheets.

“Lay on the bed,” I tell her, pressing deliciously against her clit. My mouth is next to her ear, and she shudders at my breath. “I'll even our score.”

She shudders again, but she obeys.

Against her pillows— satin, I note— she relaxes pseudo-naturally. She lays lightly, propped and positioned like a princess, like someone posing for a painting. Elegant, demure.

I don't want that.

I tell her so.

“Drop the act,” I say, pacing around the bed to approach from the foot of the mattress. I note with some regret that I leave a bloody footprint on her floor. “It isn't fair like that— my defenses melt at your touch. Yours should melt at mine.”

My knees touch the mattress. I climb onto the bed and pry apart her knees, the modest and lovely joints that press themselves together, hiding my prize from me. She is wet for me, and I salivate for her.

“Give me something real.”

It's not a request.

She looks at me, eyes wide. Suddenly she looks smaller than she ever has. No longer the lioness, she looks more like a frightened kitten, hackles up but trembling and soft. She's expelling cursed energy slowly but steadily, and reality is coming back to her. It's a hell of a crash— I know it must be— but she's taking it like a champ. I know grown men who would handle it with less grace.

I reach out, dragging a finger through her sex from hole to hood, and she goes to pieces in an instant.

Oh well. So much for composure.

“Please,” she says, slumping. Her legs widen, and I touch her again, gentle and slow. “ Please , Satoru.”

As I touch her lazily, her chest heaves with heavy breathing. She begins to shake, and, transfixed, I watch one of my too-long fingers breach her entrance. She's so warm. So tight. She whines as I press another finger inside, and I tear my eyes away from my work to watch her face.

To my surprise, she's crying.

“Please,” she keeps saying, as though it's a litany against the darkness that creeps ever inwards from the night. “Please, please, please. ”

I touch her face with my free hand, and she leans into the skin of my palm. Her face is hot with tears, and I readjust myself so that I can kiss her fevered lips.

“How long?” I ask, knowing it's unfair.

She shakes her head.

“A long time.”

I kiss her again, this time with lust and tongue and filth. It's dirty and mean of me, but I ask again. I need to know the weight of the burden I want to carry for her.

“How long? How long has it been since your last lover?”

“Years,” she whispers against my lips, and my fingers slow inside of her.

It's criminal. Absolutely illegally unfair that she has gone without tenderness like this for so long.

I kiss her again. Her arms come around my shoulders, and our bodies press against one another. She is warm and soft. Her tears fall freely, and I mourn for what I know to be the truth.

I could leave tonight and find a worthy lover— a woman who would hold me gently, keep my secrets, and guard me jealously against harm either real or perceived. Yes, there is a certain… appeal that I carry, and there are many bad apples, but my experience remains that women are natural strongholds, bastions of kindness and strength and stability. On the whole, they are good. Or, they have been to me.

I think of the men I know, of the men I trust, and the list falls frightfully short of where it should.

It is the terrible truth of the inequality of our sexes. Years, and there has not been anyone for her. There has been no one that she can trust, because she is vulnerable in a way that I am not. Her body and mind both are capable of too little and too much to risk.

It may not be man's natural instinct to destroy, but he does a damn good job at it despite his contrary design.

So I do my best to chip away at her loneliness— to destroy only that which is meant to die— and let her feel my warmth. I grind against her, and she gasps. I nip at her lip, and she moans. These sounds I pluck from her until there is a gentle euphony of pleasure in the air as sweet as any song. Her legs are soft as they press against the coarse hair of my thighs; I let her twine her fingers in my hair and I revel in her touch.

“You're beautiful,” I tell her as she arches.

She freezes, then huffs a laugh that is too sharp-edged to belong in her bed.

“Not beautiful like your usual dates, but I do alright for myself.”

I frown. It takes effort not to be pissed off. It's not exactly polite to bring other people into your lover's bed, even just nominally. Still, though, she is wounded. Patience is not my forte, but for her, I try.

“No,” I agree. “You're beautiful like you.”

I like to talk, but there are, I admit, more efficient uses of our time. I kiss her, then put a long finger into her mouth. She takes it, and I wonder who managed to convince the world that models and actresses and pop stars are the only beauty in the world. It is as disheartening to imagine a world filled only with them as it is to imagine a world without them.

Her mouth is hot and warm around my middle finger. I ease it in and out, watching the way her mouth works around it. It's so remarkably lovely, the shape of her mouth— my cock begins to stir at the sight. I add another finger, and then another, and then, satisfied, I remove them.

“Put your legs over my shoulders and hold onto my hair,” I tell her, sure that my grin is a sharp and feral crack across my face. “I want you to guide me.”

I shift our positions so that my head is between her legs. My fingers return to their wonted place, fucking in and out of her pretty pussy, and my mouth settles over her mound. Gods, but her taste! I suck at her clit, and she jerks, yanking my hair as though I've zapped her with electricity.

“Do that again,” she gasps in perilous-sounding wonder, and as I obey, I look up at her. My gaze must be hungry, I know, but she doesn't seem to mind. Her eyes stay on mine, and it's a pleasure to watch bliss slowly overtake her until she's a million miles away from her thoughts and achingly present in her own body.

It takes less time than I thought it would to make her arch and cry out her pleasure into the dark of the night. Her orgasm is hot, heavy, and draining; she collapses backwards into her pillow as though I'm the one that's been draining her of energy, not the other way around. Still, though, the accomplishment makes me feel peacock-proud as I watch her chest heave and her body quiver.

“When you're ready, you should go clean up,” I tell her, kissing her brow. “I'm going to take care of the body.”

She frowns at me, but I smooth the crease in her brow with my thumbs.

“Don't worry, this is easy for me— and besides, we're not done yet.”

This— round one— is just a warm up, a little taste to whet our appetites. Before the night is over, I intend to have her in every position I can think of. I might not be able to time-travel back and fuck her every day for all the nights she spent alone and lonely, but I can make her forget she ever was so lonely, even if that's only for tonight.

With a speed usually reserved for hare-beating tortoises, she climbs out of bed and eases her way to the adjoining bathroom. When I hear the shower start, I set about my work. By the time the shower shuts off, the only thing left to do is mop up the blood (so much of it! Really, the Mortal Kombat move was cool, but dreadfully messy), which I do once I find her mop (hidden strangely in a corner of her kitchen between the refrigerator and the counter). Once she's out of the shower, her bedroom is restored to order and our clothes are stacked neatly on top of her dresser. Most importantly though, she's clean, and so am I (well, mostly, anyway).

Now, we can get to business.

“It looks really nice in here,” she comments, glancing around.

At least, that's what I think she says. I'm too busy staring at the place where her towel doesn't meet itself to really listen. She seems to sense this, because shortly after, she crawls onto the bed where I am and settles into my lap. She drops the towel, and then we are both delightfully nude.

“I've got to figure out how to deal with those pesky old men,” she sighs, sliding her arms around my shoulders. “The audacity of them to send a non-sorcerer, as if I'm completely incapable of defending myself!”

“The nerve,” I agree, squeezing a double handful of her ass. In response, she spits into her palm and takes my half-hard cock in her hand.

“We really could kill them, you know. If you were serious about that.”

She says the words so casually, and yet they reverberate deeply in my very bones. My heart beats hard and fast in my chest as she leans in to murmur in my ear:

“We could do it tonight.”

Her fist closes over the head of my cock, and I close my eyes. Desire thrums softly in my chest, a hollow ache. She's right. We could do it tonight. Together, it might even be easy. But should we, tonight? A move against the old fucks has to measured, calculated— but I've thought about it for so very long. Is that not measured enough?

It's not. I know it's not. We have to create structure first, something to channel the chaos into so that sorcerer society stays strong and stable. Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara aren't ready. The others are closer, but still so young. There hasn't been time to find any… bad apples.

If I weren't Gojo Satoru— if I weren't the strongest— I would take this firebrand woman in my arms, kiss her, and remake the world with her. I would let her fill all my empty spaces and create some new creature who is not only Gojo Satoru, but more, impossibly and infinitely more. If duty did not weigh mountain-heavy on my shoulders, if I could but for a moment escape that great and terrible purpose, I would do all that I have ever dreamed. With her, it might actually all work out. She makes me feel invincible— a dangerous, deadly feeling, but euphoric.

But it cannot be tonight… and we are promised nothing beyond that.

I try to tell her this, but it just sounds like excuses. She says nothing. She just touches my hair, my neck, my back with her free hand. It stirs something deep and hungry within me, that silence. I want to take back every word and tell her that I'll make love with her over the ashes of those old fools and promise forever to her. I suppose that's the effect she wanted. Or maybe she really is speechless— I don't know. All I know is that I'm hard by her hand, and I shake as she kisses me tenderly.

“You've been lonely too,” she says, resting her forehead against mine. “How is beyond me, but you have been. I can see it in your eyes. Is that why you really hide them?”

I have been lonely. I miss Suguru. He was the last person who could see through me like this. In moments like these, it frightens me how keenly like him she can be. It makes me afraid for her, afraid of her.

I could really use my best friend's perspective on what to do about a new lady friend, too. At this rate, I'll end up marrying her and then where will we all be? I'll lose my forever-a-bachelor card. The horror!

“I'm not now,” I tell her, bucking my hips to press more firmly into her hand. “Maybe we could—”

She twists her grip, and I hiss in pleasure.

“Sorry,” she grins, terribly cheeky. “What was that, Satoru?”

“We could just scare them a little,” I suggest as she thumbs my slit. “The elders. We could— fuck — just set traps on their lawn, or set an orchard on fire, or—”

Fuck— am I really getting off to this?

“Or egg their houses?” She teases. “No, you're not thinking big enough, Satoru. We're adults, not children. What if we kidnapped their pets and left a ransom note?”

“That's assuming they're not too evil to own pets.”

“But if they do own pets, I mean, don't we have an ethical obligation to rescue those poor animals from such harsh conditions?”

That thought never gets an answer. I'm too busy pushing her onto her back to talk.

She's so beautiful as she smiles up at me. It hurts to look at her. I sit back on my heels to align our sexes, and I take a moment to tease her, sliding my cockhead through her folds, up to her clit, and then back to her hole. I do it again and again, and then I press into her. I mean to go slowly, inch by inch, but her hot, wet heat takes me by surprise, and I take her faster than I mean to. She gasps at the intrusion, and I kiss her soothingly, apologetic.

“Yes,” she hisses as I pull out and push slowly back in. “Fuck— ngh, fuck yes!”

I pick up the pace. It's incredible, the way she feels around me. My hands move all over her body, indecisive— every part of her is so perfect, so infinitely touchable, and all of it is an expanse of frozen fire begging to be explored. Her hips I squeeze gently, feeling the curve of them in my hand; her stomach I caress with fondness. Her breasts, of course, occupy much of my attention— not only because of their sweet softness, but also because of the sinful noises she makes when I brush a thumb across a pebbled nipple. She arches beautifully into my hands, and, unable to help myself, I slow our fucking to lean down and suck at her left nipple.

“That's it,” I say against her skin as her hands tangle in my hair. “I want you to pull it.”

That much is true, but it's not all there is to say. Thankfully, she seems to sense what I'm really asking; her hand curls into a fist around the hair near my scalp, and she pulls my head backwards so that I'm looking into her eyes.

“Fuck me while you're looking at me, Gojo Satoru,” she commands. The words send a shiver down my spine. “I want all six of your eyes tonight.”

What can I do but indulge her?

I hitch one of her legs upward around my hip, changing the angle of our coupling. She exhales a soft oh, and I fuck her deeply now. Those soft ohs build and build until they're a melody, a steady refrain of pleasure that drives us both towards our inevitable ends.

“Stay with me tonight?” she asks as I push into her a bit more roughly. The question is swallowed by a sharp inhale, and I soothe her with a kiss.

“Nothing could make me leave.”

Even the second coming of Sukuna could wait until tomorrow. Tonight is ours.

She doesn't ask me for anything past tonight. She doesn't have to. The answer is in the way that I hold her as we fuck, cradling her gently despite the intensity of skin-contact. Every inch of us is touching. We are connected so deeply that it becomes ludicrous to try and sort out what part of us belongs to whom.

“Oh,” she exhales again as I press my thumb against her clit.“ Oh. ”

She cries my name like it's a prayer as I kiss the side of her neck. I do it again and again until she is keening quietly in euphoric pain and terrible ecstasy. I slow my thrusts as she clenches around me, and it is an exercise in willpower not to come undone inside of her like an overeager teenager. It is not lost on me that I could die like this, that she could kill me like this. Somehow, that makes the experience even more erotic.

“Are you close?” I ask, breathless. “I'm close. I really hope you are too. If not, that's embarrassing.”

“Yeah,” she gasps. Her hand in my hair tightens. “Yeah, baby, I'm close.”

“Good, yeah, that's good.”

I start to ramble. I don't even know what I say to her— probably something silly, or cheesy, or maybe just something true— but I know it's a downhill slide from there to orgasm. It does not occur to me to stop and think, stop and ask , before it happens, what she would prefer. Instead, instinct gets the better of me, and I come inside her in ropes of intense ejaculation. I swear it takes years off my life, the way she milks me— but it's so, so worth it to watch her eyes roll back in her head, body all a-tremble. I wouldn't trade it for anything.

“God,” she cries out in a high-pitched whine. “Oh, god… ”

I am not a god, contrary to popular belief. Still, in this moment, I wish I was so that I could lay claim to the broken way she calls out to a higher power than we.

We're a mess as we recover. We're both sticky, shaking, and clinging to one another. Somehow, it feels like we didn't account for the intensity of it all, and I wish dejectedly for a pack of crackers to help bolster our blood sugar.

“Oh, Satoru,” she says, touching my cheek with a soft hand. “Look at us. We're ridiculous.”

We are. I grin.

“Oh, undoubtedly. Give me half an hour, and I think we can make it worse.”

She giggles, and I kiss her nose.

We clean up together. The process is surprisingly intimate. Her hands clean the scratches she left on my back; my fingers comb through the snarls in her hair made by the intensity of our fucking. It's so nice to hold, to touch, to know— it's why I've always loved sex. With her, though, it's different. I've just never stuck around super long afterwards, and on the rare occasions where I did, I never felt like I needed the care and attention that my partner usually did. Tonight, though? Tonight I need her to touch me, to know me, to… to hold me.

It's so strange.

Later, as we lay entangled, I ask her what she's thinking about. I can't shake the feeling that I need something from her, something to prove she's here even though she's in my arms.

“Just you,” she answers.

“Oh? What about me?”

Her eyes meet mine. They are equal parts fond and fearful.

“There is coldness in you, Satoru. I always knew that. You're the strongest, and with that comes a certain… detachment to the rest of us.”

My heart sinks. Thankfully, though, she continues before I can decide to kill us both where we lay along with half the city block.

“But there is warmth too. The coldness I know, I understand— but I think it is the warmth that frightens me the most. I can weather the cold, wrap myself in layers against cruelty. But the warmth in you, the kindness… you burn me, Satoru. I'm afraid of what you could make me feel.”

There it is. She has managed to articulate to me the fear that nestles in my own chest; the fear that, when morning comes, she will disappear like smoke between my fingers. It's a great comfort to know that she feels it too— that we, in this as in much else, are equals. That comfort gives me the space to think logically, and I come to a conclusion about our coupling with a quickness that surprises me.

What we have may not be love just yet, but it is more than lust. There is an uncommon depth to us that I want to sound to its limits. I will stay the night here and tomorrow, I decide, she will stay at mine. Eventually, we'll choose a place that we both like. More convenient that way, for sure. And of course, I think, we'll need matching toothbrushes.

I tell her that last bit. She laughs at me and flicks my forehead. I squeeze her bum, and she turns her back to me— as if that isn't an invitation to spoon, pressing the lengths of our bodies together. I hold her there, and time loses meaning for the evening. Darkness overtakes me, and I sleep, holding her close .

#jjk x reader #jjk imagines #gojo satoru x reader #fem!reader #gojo satoru

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ruggiezz · 1 year ago

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— BUT YOU'LL NEVER HAVE MY HEART : twisted wonderland

[synopsis] riddle never got the freedom he wanted, and now he has to marry a woman he doesn't even know

[characters] riddle rosehearts x reader

[extra] this is all pure angst and arranged marriage

The venue looked impeccable—a place where someone of his social standing would marry. The guests were renowned people, contacts his parents made, and people his parents advised him to have an amicable relationship with. Riddle doesn't know any of them, yet he still had to greet everyone with a smile.

This is his wedding, and it just feels... cold. This isn't how he had pictured his wedding would be.

When was the last time he saw his friends? It's not like they would be allowed to come, but he found himself missing them every day. Are Ace and Deuce just as close as they were before? Is Cater still up to the latest trends? Did Trey continue working for his family business?

And most importantly, are you doing well? Have you met someone else?

Everything went downhill the day he graduated. He thought, just like everybody else, that he had made progress in becoming more independent and that maybe, he could have the life he wanted instead of the one his parents planned for him, but the second he tried to open his mouth to tell his mother, he froze.

Riddle got his medical degree just like his parents expected of him, and he cut contact with everybody else without any explanation. The calls and texts kept coming, but they were never answered. What could he have told you after he suddenly disappeared? That he will never get to be together with you for the rest of your lives, like he promised? That he will think of you every day, and please don't forget him either? No, he can't do that to you; he can't let you mourn a relationship that wasn't meant to be. It's better if you believe he never loved you in the first place.

And now here he was, waiting to recite vows filled with empty promises of loving each other unconditionally, until death does them apart. But Riddle doesn't mean any of it, and the girl standing in front of him doesn't either.

It hurt. It hurt so much, he got a little taste of freedom only for it to get snatched from him not once but twice. He felt like that kid trapped inside his house again—that kid who got to experience unconditional love from his first friends only to get it taken away.

He wants to see you again, so badly.

But if he sees you again, can he bring himself to say it to your face? What if he throws himself in your arms and cries, apologizing and begging you to forgive him? He's sure you would look as beautiful as the day he last saw you. Riddle wishes to see you so badly, yet he can't bring himself to even search for you. He feels like a coward and a traitor. He betrayed everybody who believed in him; he hurt them again, just like he did when he was a kid.

Please let this all be a nightmare, let him wake up in your arms in the middle of the night, let him tell you about this horrible nightmare he had as you calm him down. Please let him hold you, touch your cheeks, anything, anything that proves you're real.

As the wedding officiant kept talking and Riddle stood there on the aisle, he allowed himself to fantasize for a few seconds about the wedding you both could have had.

It would have been small and intimate. A wedding where Cater cheers and takes more photos than the hired photographer, where Trey is the best man, where Ace, Deuce, and Grim bawl their eyes out over seeing their best friend marry, and where Chenya sneaks to the catering table and eats as many pastries as he can. A wedding where he could place the ring in your hand and kiss you. Oh sevens, how he wished it was you standing next to him in the aisle, how beautiful you would look, and how giddy he would feel hearing you say yes.

But that would never happen.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts

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malleusarcanum · 2 years ago

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⚠️: make sure you're not eating

Mc: *pulled the wrist of Sebek vigorously* you owe me a brief discussion about-

Sebek: Human! Why would you come up with such uncommon subject.

Mc: What? I haven't said much...

Sebek: don't underestimate my knowledge my human friend. I already know what your discussions about.

Mc:....

Sebek: do you really want to discuss this.

Mc: Ahh.. yes that's what I'm here for

Sebek: Well if that's what you desire

Mc: ???

*Sebek looked at his pants and starts to unlock his belt*

Mc: what are you doing?

Sebek: discussing about my brief---

*almost unziping his pants*

Mc:what?!!! THE HECK!! THATs NOT IM---

*stopped after hearing the creak of the door then looked who opened it*

Riddle: Disgraceful...

Trey : Why only...the two of you?

Deuce: What..

Cater: the...

Ace: F***

Vil: the bird is ready to soar

Rook: Je n’en reviens pas!

Epel: the horror

Jack:?!

Leona: Why not mine?

Ruggie: Not the time for those

Azul: My contracts are available for memory erasure...

Floyd: this is more worse than on tv

Jade: you just said what's on my mind.

Ortho: hey I can't see! *Jeered while struggling to take off Idia's hand on his eyes*

Idia: some things in this world are not meant for little ones

Jamil: We should have rescheduled this meeting

Kalim: So that's why they're missing

Silver: I wish this is just a dream.

Lilia: Mc! Sebek! How could you?!!!

Mc: T-this was j-just a misunderstanding!!

Jade: tsk, tsk tsk looks like she is no longer innocent

Floyd: Off all creatures?! Why Sebek!

Sebek: Well she said about brief discussions....

*all of their heads turned to Mc waiting for an explanation with eyes almost aching to kill*

Mc: not in a literal way!!! it means I need to talk to him about something!!!

All of them: about? *Eyes still fixing on Mc with disbelief*

Mc: about..... * Doesn't want to tell the secret only Sebek knows. That they broke the queen of hearts statue.*

Leona: alright I'll forgive you as long as you ask mine?

Riddle: as if she'd ask to a potato sack.

Ruggie: speak for yourself tomato head!

Ace: No one talks to riddle like that! Except me...

Jack: were you saying something? *Said while punching his fist together*

Deuce: Why can't you shut your mouth in times of trouble? *whispered to ace*

Ace: I can't stop when I'm pissed!

Deuce: then control yourself! I'm not a babysitter watching out a kid bragging nonsense.

*they started to fight and all of them watched as they do*

*Floyd secretly hold the hand of mc out of the meeting room*

Floyd: Let's get out of here shrimpy

Lilia: Hey! Where'you taking her?!

*Lilia's voice is too loud it reached everyone's ears and their eyes fumed once they saw Floyd ready for battle*

Vil: So this is a battle to whom apple will do it.

Mc: D*mmit just stop the nonsense

Azul: can't hold back to such divine price

Kalim: Charge!

*they fought at each other, throwing various magic while speaking sharp interactions that filled the room with war like scenery*

*Mc wrenched it jaws*

Mc: When I count to three and no one stops!

*Thinking of what can make them stop*

Mc: No one will receive a lick on a neck from my own tongue!!!!

Mc: one!

*they already stopped*

Mc: .....

Mc: Curse you d*mn brain

Malleus: Mc! Want to taste my egg!

*exclaimed after entering*

*all of them turned their heads on him ready for another round*

Malleus: what did I miss?

*tilted his head while holding a plate of well cooked and mouth watering omelette*

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

Note

AITA for cooking for myself?

I (22F) happen to be a very picky eater, partly due to my autism. I dislike most common food, and when I actually like a certain food, I tend to prefer it to be cooked in a different way than what people usually prefer. For example, most people fry liver just for a few minutes and call it a day, but I like it hard boiled instead and drink its water as soup. Also, I hate salt with a passion, I will avoid eating any food if the salt taste was barely noticeable, and I don't use it at all when I cook.

When I was younger, I would express my disgust clearly when I was offered something I didn't like, I didn't mean it as an insult, that was my way of explaining why I refused to eat it and was mostly met with "if you don't like our cooking then go cook yourself". It was frustrating to me because people insist I eat even when I clearly tell them I don't like it, and take it personally that I don't like it.

Now that I'm older, I stopped criticizing people's cooking and just try a spoonful before I decide whether I want to fill my plate, it doesn't always work though because sometimes they fill my plate for me and I try to eat it in silence if it turns out to be someone I don't like.

Anyway, I hate cooking with a passion and I suck at it, not to mention that my cooking is usually weird and only suits my taste. I also like to experiment a lot and try crazy combinations without a recipe, so sometimes I fail miserably and force myself to eat it because wasting food is immoral.

Whenever someone cooks at home, they always make extra in case anyone wanted to eat. I used to make extra in case anyone wanted to try, but they just taste and leave it, and it's a burden for me to finish all that food myself, because even if I like it, it's boring to eat the same thing for 3 days in a row. It's specially bad when the thing I cook goes bad quickly and I have to eat it in the same day or throw it away. And it's too frustrating when it's a failed dish that taste terrible and I have to suck it up and eat it.

I got yell at a lot for cooking "too much", so I decided to cook only for myself, just one person's portion, but then my family would want to try it, and get mad it's not enough for all of us, and I end up hungry because I have to share what little food I have. Sometimes I'd eat all of it before anyone finds me, but they know I cooked because of the unwashed dishes. My dad (55M) has complained numerous times about the fact I don't cook for them, and tells my mom how upset he is that I don't share. My mom asked me to count my dad at least whenever I cook something, so I started making just a tiny bit of extra food, but he always complains about everything and ends up refusing to eat it most of the times. The main offender is the lack of salt in my cooking, he's always complaining about that, but I just pass the salt for him. He doesn't like it and insists salt needs to be added at the beginning when the food is being cooked for it to taste good, but that would defeat the purpose of me cooking at all. He also complains about all the things I do differently, that my cooking is "wrong" when it's just done the way I like it.

Frustrated with the extra food and complaints about the way I cook, I stopped counting my dad whenever I cooked, sometimes if I could reach out to him before I start cooking, I ask he wants to eat the thing I plan to cook, most of the times he says no and it's a relief because I know he wouldn't like it anyway. If don't asks him and he know I cooked something and didn't count him, he gets upset.

My mother, sister and brother don't act this way, they know they wouldn't like my cooking so they don't ask me to count them, but if there's extra they just taste it from time to time and end up criticizing it to death. My dad is the only one who gets upset that I'm catering to myself, he says it's selfishness on my part, that cooking is meant to be enjoyed by everyone. I DO cook for everyone sometimes when my mom is away, but like I said before, I'm terrible at it and they don't like it either way even if I try to cook the way everyone likes it, and use salt, but nobody wants to eat it anyway and i'm forced to eat all the food because i'm the one who cooked it. My brother (15M) is a self taught gourmet chef and decides to be the one to cook whenever mom isn't home, so I stopped even trying to cook for everyone altogether and only cook for myself whenever I want to.

Tl;dr I have to cook for myself because that's the only way I can get something that caters to my taste, but I'm wrong for not making it edible for other people and for being a terrible cook. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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spiritedstars · 11 months ago

Text

Spirit Meets the Bones - VIII

Genre: Angst/Romance Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse. Please be mindful: some implied language may be found triggering.

@abruisedmuse ily for being on this journey with me <3

Find it all here.

It took Iris a few minutes into their dinner to realize it was in fact, not going to be fine. That Beron was a much bigger threat than her father ever could be.

Iris swallowed and avoided the High Lord’s gaze. Even while asking Eris about court updates, the High Lord’s eyes kept drifting to her.

The tension in the room was so palpable, Iris felt herself choking on it. Despite her telling Eris it would be fine, the weight sitting on her chest at her father-in-law’s gaze was overwhelming.

Iris knew her mouth had always gotten her in trouble with her father, more times than she cared to admit — but with the High Lord...She wasn’t sure if she could handle staying quiet, which was the one thing she needed to do and her hands were already shaking with the effort. She had bit her tongue several times as it was.

On their way over, Eris had stopped walking every few moments to glance at her in silence, the muscles in his jaw flexing. Until she finally snapped at him to say whatever the hell he needed to say.

He had only made one suggestion. “Do not challenge him. He will try to bait you and will say outlandish things because he wants to see how you react. Do not let him bait you.”

Iris wasn’t exactly sure how she was supposed to do that when Beron was watching her like he wanted nothing more than to shred her to pieces. Was this what Eris’s previous lover had to deal with? But she hadn’t been his wife. Would he be worse because Iris was his wife instead of a lover passing the time? What had Eris meant when he said that Beron had gotten what he wanted willingly? Was it that the female had given up on Eris and left or —

“So, Iris. Hopefully, your wedding night was as magical as you imagined it would be. Has my son treated you well?”

Iris looked at the High Lord, at the cruel smile on his face and color bloomed on her cheeks. Her eyes flickered to Eris. Though his grip was tight on his fork and knife, he was chewing his food with no care in the world. Iris looked back to his father then back down to her plate, ever the obedient wife.

“Yes. He has,” she answered softly.

“Mm. That’s good,” he replied with a nasty laugh. “You didn’t embarrass me, son.”

“Of course not, Father,” Eris replied tightly. “I also gave Iris a tour of the house. She appreciated that, didn’t you, wife?”

The bite in his tone had her clenching her teeth. Though she knew he was only doing it for her benefit, the way his tone merged with his father’s scorn reminded her too much of her own father’s sneering that it caused a slight burning in her chest.

“Yes. Everything is very beautiful and well-maintained,” she said tightly. “It’s very impressive.”

“You look beautiful, Iris.” Lady Enya said kindly, reaching out a hand to gently pat hers and Iris looked up. “I hope you liked the selection I had prepared for you. I can always have the seamstress work with you to cater exactly to your taste.”

Iris had chosen a wine-colored dress with gold threading that complimented her figure well for dinner, pinning the sides of her hair up and leaving the rest in loose curls. She had definitely wanted to show her mother-in-law how much she appreciated all the gifts she’d been given and chosen carefully. Iris hadn’t missed Eris’s approving look.

But that moment seemed so long ago.

Before Iris could open her mouth to reply, Beron snorted. “Shouldn’t it be to what your son’s taste is? She’s dressing to his liking.”

“It doesn’t matter, father. She already knows what my preference is.” Eris replied and Iris slipped her hands off the table; she didn’t want to accidentally grab the knife closest to her and lodge it in his throat. It wasn’t even the implications of his words that had her face flushed, it was that tone.

“Eris.” his mother warned but Beron only smirked.

Iris willed her face not to slip into anger as she looked at her mother-in-law and smiled tightly. “Thank you for all your care and preparation. I’m honored you took the time to choose options for me. They’re all very beautiful.” She said. “I’d love to meet the seamstress with you and have your input in the future.”

“You’re very welcome. I can coordinate that at any time.” Lady Enya said, returning the tight smile and the room fell silent again.

Iris attempted a bite of her food, but it tasted like ash with Beron staring at her so intensely. Trying her best to ignore him, she turned back to Lady Enya and cleared her throat.

“I’d love to spend more time with you if you have the availability in your day. Eris told me there’s a garden you prefer.”

Lady Enya smiled more genuinely. “I do. I like to take afternoon walks. I would love for you to join me. You and I should spend more time together anyway. Eris, did you show her where it is?”

“I hope you’ll spare some time for me as well, Iris.” Beron cut in and the smile he gave his wife made Iris’s skin crawl as he turned back to her. “I’m sure Eris would want you to bond with both of his parents.”

Eris slowly turned to Iris and gave her a tight smile. “Of course, Father. Iris and I are at your disposal whenever you have the time.”

“And what do you think of that, Iris? Does your husband speak for you?” he asked, and Iris’s fingers clenched, her gaze on Eris. “Are you at my disposal whenever you have the time?”

“Father,” Eris said casually, sparing Iris one more look in a warning then glanced at his father.

“Son.”

A heartbeat of tense silence passed as Eris and his father looked at each other before the High Lord tutted, dismissing his son and Iris almost flinched at the way Eris’s jaw tightened.

The High Lord turned his gaze back to Iris.

“Tell me, Iris,” he began again, and she braced herself. “Your father mentioned to me you spent most of your time alone on your piano. Do you plan on playing for us soon?” He said and sipped from his wine. “Unless of course, you have other talents you’d like to share?”

“I can play for you all anytime you’d like.” She replied and risked a glance at him before her eyes drifted back to Eris in haste. Her husband merely looked at her indifferently and though she reminded herself once again that it was an act, it was hard not to let doubt seep in.

He had many faces, and he was good at getting what he wanted. How was this any different for him? Why would she be any different?

But the way he had reacted to her playing and the conversations they had been having...it made her believe that there was something there. Something worth giving him the benefit of the doubt. Something —

“You seem nervous, Iris.” The High Lord purred, and Iris held back her disgust. “Your mother-in-law and I don’t bite. Tell us more about yourself. I’m sure my son has asked you some questions in between him shoving his cock inside you.”

“Father.”

“Beron.”

But the High Lord only smirked, his eyes on Iris and the way her whole body had flinched when he said it.

“Did I say something wrong? Isn’t that what newlyweds do on their wedding night?” the High Lord sneered with a look of mock innocence. “You said he’s treated you well so I’m assuming you liked whatever he offered you.”

“Father, a little sensitivity would be appreciated,” Eris said through clenched teeth, the fork in his hand now bent backward. “I don’t like my wife being spoken to this way.”

“A lot of sensitivity would be appreciated.” Lady Enya snapped and Beron’s eyes flickered to her, ignoring Eris completely. “We are trying to have dinner with our newest daughter-in-law for the first time and that is inappropriate.”

“As far as I’m aware,” the High Lord said slowly and both Iris and Eris tensed at the tone. “I don’t have any other daughters-in-law.”

The Lady of Autumn seemed to flush but she didn’t break his gaze. “The only reason you don’t have a relationship with them is your own fault.”

Beron snorted again and the sneer in it seemed to make his wife’s flush deepen. Iris knew that sneer, had felt it one too many times and it made her fists shake.

“Yes, of course. That is the only reason,” he said quietly, and Iris’s eyes flickered between Eris’s throat bob and Lady Enya's clenched jaw at the words, her brows furrowed. But Beron had turned back to zero in on Iris again and her back straightened, bracing herself again. “Did he bother asking you about yourself or was he too busy taking you behind every corner on the so-called tour?”

“Cauldron, Father,” Eris snarled softly, and Iris’s eyes widened as his fist slammed down hard on the table, but Beron only smiled smugly. “You’re talking to my wife.”

“What is it, son? As far as I’m aware, you’ve been far from celibate so I’m sure you’ve been enjoying your wife thoroughly.” Beron continued and Lady Enya sucked in a breath as a muscle flexed in Eris’s jaw, as steam started to rise from his clenched fist, and the room became distinctly warmer. “Unless she’s not to your liking? Though she is a pretty thing, you do seem to have mediocre taste in females.”

“Beron —”

And Iris noticed the way Eris barely had a hold on his restraint. He had been so angry when he found her earlier, clearly triggered by whatever his father said. And now — now it was worse, and Iris’s own anger had also bubbled up too far.

By now, had it been her father, she would’ve gotten everything off of her chest and taken whatever blow he’d given her. She couldn’t take another disgusting word from Beron and any sense of self-preservation she had vanished at the mocking in Beron’s eyes, at the rage radiating from every pore of Eris’s body. At the way he seemed to use her to chip away at Eris, as if she had asked for any of this. As if she wasn’t good enough.

Before Eris could reply, Iris finally did.

“In between your son shoving his cock inside me,” she started, and Eris’s head snapped in her direction at the even tone. “Believe it or not, he has asked me a few things. We’ve been getting to know each other gradually.” Iris rested a hand on the table, smoothing the cloth beneath her fingers before looking up at the High Lord and bringing the conversation back to his original question. “As for other talents, I’m sure you know my father well enough to know I was very limited in what I could do. With my… supposed health issues and all.”

Beron quirked a brow and Eris’s hand slipped under the table and gripped her thigh, but Iris ignored him. “Yes, I was concerned about this mysterious illness of yours. I sure hope your father didn’t cheat us with a damaged bride.”

“I am not damaged.” She all but snarled and Eris’s grip tightened further, almost painfully but Iris refused to look at him.

“I should hope you’re not.” the High Lord said slowly, his smile both unnerving her and fueling her anger. “Maybe my son can teach you some new talents then. It seems you’re in good shape now.”

“Must’ve been your son’s magical cock. I guess I’m a faster learner.” she spat, and the room stilled. Beron watched his daughter-in-law, the gleam in his eyes seemingly more sinister.

Beron finally chuckled humorlessly and shot Eris a look that doused whatever anger Iris was feeling. It was a look that promised violence. She knew that look well and Eris’s back of faded scars flashed in her mind.

Iris’s insides shriveled up and she felt bile start to rise in her throat. She had fucked up. She had fucked up badly. The one time she had needed to keep her mouth shut and she had failed.

“I thought you said you put her in her place, son.”

“It seems her father was right in that she needed a heavy hand,” Eris replied tightly and shot her a look filled with a temper she wasn’t sure he was faking.

“Eris.” His mother said firmly, and his gaze snapped to her. “It’s been a long day. We can end dinner here.”

“I decide when we end dinner.” Beron snapped at his wife and then turned back to Iris. “And I don’t like the tone you speak in, girl. I am your High Lord. I’ve beheaded people for less.”

Iris clenched her fists in her lap and swallowed angrily. “Apologies, High Lord.” She forced herself to say demurely.

“My High Lord.” he corrected, and Iris bit back the retort she wished to give as she looked down, her eyes on Eris’s hand still gripping her thigh tightly.

“Apologies, my High Lord.” she amended and fought not to glare at her lap while his eyes were still on her.

He was not her father. She was used to his hands, knew when to anticipate the blow and where it would land. She had learned her father’s ticks but Beron...the dangerous gleam in his eyes was something she couldn’t anticipate. She felt so stupid. Iris truly had no clue what he’d do and how much he could make it hurt. If he had it in him to hurt his so-called favorite son, what would he do to her?

“Father, it has been a long day and clearly overwhelming for Iris,” Eris said and shot her a look that almost begged her to keep her mouth shut. “If you’ll excuse us, we’d like to retire.”

But Beron was still watching Iris and then his gaze flickered to his son.

“Son.” the High Lord began slowly, and dread coiled in her stomach at his smile. “I don’t see why you shouldn’t put her in her place here. She was disrespectful to me. It’s only fair I see you reprimand her.”

Eris’s grip on her thigh tightened enough that she was sure it would leave a mark and a beat of silence passed before Eris replied.

“The way I want to reprimand her isn’t one I can do in front of my parents,” he said coldly, and Iris froze as his mother gave him a pleading look.

“Eris just —”

Beron held up a hand, cutting his wife off with a snort. “Is that so, son?”

“I think we’ve had enough words, Father,” Eris said and Iris felt panic slowly start to rise in her body, her heart beating too fast for it to be any good. She watched Eris’s expression, watched him stare at his father who had his eyes narrowed at his son.

If Beron decided to make Eris do anything, Iris would —

But a nasty smile emerged on the High Lord’s face as he finally looked away from his son and back at Iris, who flushed. “I see. Privacy would be required here.”

Lady Enya finally shot out of her seat. “That is enough.” she snapped and Beron turned to her slowly, the room immediately getting tenser as Eris also slowly stood.

“Mother, no need to be upset,” Eris said calmly, even as his fists clenched. “Father, we are leaving.”

“Get out then.” Beron dismissed and shot his son a look of disdain. “And this time, truly put her in her place. If you don’t, I will. There are enough places people won’t see.”

Iris flinched at the words, her heart thundering and Lady Enya gaped at her husband before turning to her son again.

“Eris —”

“Don’t give him your useless input. You’re the reason he’s still soft.” The High Lord snarled, and Eris tensed as his father turned to him. “What luck do you have commanding a court if you can’t control your wife’s mouth?”

“Father —“ Eris started, face flushed in anger but Beron waved him off, looking directly at Iris.

“I suggest you think twice before speaking from now on. Your voice is not necessary. You are to be beside my son looking presentable and nothing more. Don’t go thinking you can have opinions and thoughts of your own. You are not important. Understood?”

Silence filled her head as she stared at the male across from her, thinking how she never thought she’d hate someone more than she could hate her father.

“Understood?”

Her chin dipped in response, and he waved them off carelessly, his eyes back on his wife who stared at him openly in contempt.

“Get out. Your mother and I need to have words.”

Eris hid it well, but Iris didn’t miss the bob of his throat as he gazed at his mother. Lady Enya only nodded and then jerked her head to the door. Iris felt the agony rip through him to leave her and she wanted nothing more than to take back everything she had said.

“Come along, wife.” Eris spat and Iris tried not to flinch at the tone, standing shakily and slowly following Eris.

They stepped out of the room and Iris made to get away from the door as quickly as possible, but Eris grabbed her arm.

She turned, her anger and humiliation crashing around her in waves, ready to rip his hand off but saw his face flushed angrily as he stood rigidly at the door. His grip was tight on her arm, but Iris could see he wasn’t even paying attention to her. He was listening to the heated conversation happening behind the door.

He was waiting — waiting for the scrape of the chair, indicating someone had moved to —

His breath loosened when footsteps started to fade, and Eris sensed his mother had walked off without harm. Finally loosening his grip, Iris yanked her arm away from him and without looking at him, stomped off to their bedroom.

Eris closed the bedroom door behind them and watched as Iris immediately backed away from him with a glare.

“What the hell was that?” she breathed, and Eris shook his head, the room around them immediately heating again.

He was so fucken angry. Nothing about that dinner had gone as he wanted and Iris — his eyes flashed to her and the scent of her anger and fear merging together nearly made him scream.

“Don’t say another word.” his tone clipped but Iris shook her head with a harsh laugh.

“The way you want to reprimand me isn’t one you can do in front of your parents?” she hissed.

Eris snarled, waving her off. “You had one job.” He snapped. “Ignore anything he says to you because he’s purposely going to bait you. And what do you do? Let him bait you.”

“What about you?” she snapped. “You were two seconds away from ripping his head off! How was I supposed to sit back and let him speak to me that way!”

“What exactly did you expect to accomplish by replying? Going to get up and try to stab him too?” Eris scoffed and dragged a hand through his hair. “Believe me, I would’ve loved to see you try.”

“How can you sit back when he’s talking to your wife like this?” she snarled.

“Because I know what he’s doing. I know he’s trying to use whatever you and I have going on against us one way or another and you let him see too much!”

“He expects you to beat me. To shut me up.” She sneered, her voice rising an octave. “To put me in my place.”

“Yes, he does.” Eris snapped. “And tomorrow when he sees you, let’s hope you can act better than you did today.”

“What would you have done if he had ordered you to do something? How would that have gone, Eris?” she snarled.

“I would’ve handled it!”

“Oh, because tonight went so well.”

“It would’ve been fine had you not opened your mouth and made it worse.”

Iris growled and turned away from him, stomping over to their vanity, practically ripping her hair clips out.

An ugly silence washed over the room and Iris tried not to let her lips tremble as she rubbed at her eyes, the mortification of what she was feeling catching up to her.

What a disgusting, despicable male. And he was her father-in-law.

And the way he kept looking at her. That was no way a father-in-law looked at his daughter-in-law.

That was a predator who found its next prey.

Eris sighed behind her, and she glared at him over her shoulder.

“Look — it wasn’t supposed to happen this way,” he replied quietly, holding his hands up in acceptance. “I’m – I apologize for all the things he said and for what I had to say.”

“What you said.” she seethed, whirling around, and Eris’s eyes flashed in annoyance. “I know your father is a piece of shit but gods, you really sell it with that sneering tone of yours.”

“If I was any nicer to you, he’d carve you open at the table just to prove he could.” he spat in return. “You saw it yourself. I told you we have to be a certain way in front of him. I don’t understand why you’re surprised. I told you all this.”

“Not like this! I was not prepared for this. I’m his son’s wife!” she nearly shrieked. “How can he talk to me and about me that way? How can he look at me that way?”

Eris lowered his head, a hand rubbing his eyebrow as if he was trying to think of how he could explain how disgusting his father was to her. As if Iris hadn’t caught on.

“He does it on purpose. He...gravitates towards younger females and isn’t exactly a faithful male. He knows it’s going to bother me.” he finally said, and Iris blanched. “You’re young and beautiful and —”

“I’m his son’s wife!”

“It doesn’t matter that you’re my wife,” Eris growled. “He’s vile and disgusting and a High Lord! A High Lord that enforces rank. A High Lord that knows he could get the attention of any female he wants because it makes him forget about my mother.”

“Are you saying your father is attracted to me?” she whispered and felt the bile rise in her throat again, but Eris shook his head in disgust.

“No.” he snapped, though a kernel of doubt pulsed in his chest. Knowing his father, Eris wouldn’t put it past Beron to look at his wife that way. Not that she needed to know that. “I’m saying he’ll make you uncomfortable to piss me off because he can. Just to bait me into doing something stupid and then punish me for it. This is my way of confirming to you that he’s more disgusting than people think.”

Silence filled her head once more as she recalled what Eris had said about his former lover.

In the end, my father won and got what he wanted from her willingly.

“You said — you said your father got what he wanted from your lover.” she choked out and Eris flushed deeply. “Does that mean what I think it does?”

Eris froze but Iris’s eyes zeroed in on his fists clenching at his sides. He had done it so many times today. Would he —

“Why settle for the son of a high lord when the high lord himself could give you the attention you want?” he said sourly, and Iris paled.

“He wouldn’t do that with me, would he?” she whispered.

“Do you want to fuck my father?” he sneered and Iris gagged.

“I’d rather drown myself at sea.”

“Then I don’t think it’ll be a problem if you’re not a willing participant.”

“I hardly wanna fuck you.” she seethed. “You think I’d want to fuck your father? My father-in-law?”

“You didn’t want to be powerless anymore, right?” Eris glared, the color in his face intensified as he sneered then gave a humorless chuckle. “If you decide to switch which Vanserra you spread your legs for, you’ll get to that goal much faster with my father.”

Iris gaped at him as he glowered in return, the rage in the room palpable.

“That’s disgusting,” she said through clenched teeth. “You’re disgusting.”

“Thank you. Welcome to the family,” he replied with a mocking bow and Iris let out a growl and turned away from him.

It took her a moment, where she swallowed and blinked several times, trying to contain her revulsion and temper before she could say anything else.

“Does he — he doesn’t force himself on females, does he?” she asked quietly, looking over her shoulder at him. “Does he abuse his power that way?”

Eris’s mouth went into a thin line and shook his head. “As far as I’ve been aware, it’s always been consensual and they’re always of age. My father may be an animal but even he tries not to cross that line,” he said, his lips curled in distaste. “Believe it or not, females approach him because he has power, money, and a taste for infidelity.”

He paused here, glancing at Iris, and then looked away. “I – I always tried to check afterward. My mother and I discreetly try to make sure. He just has a preference.”

Iris looked at him in horror and Eris had the intense urge to set himself on fire just to wipe himself off the face of the world to not see the look she gave him. He was already saying too much — she was hearing too much —

“Your mother knows?”

“Of course, she does,” he said faintly. “She likes it best when he forgets about her too.”

Iris took a deep breath and ran a hand down her face. “I don’t know what to think or what to make of this —” she said shakily and shot him a look of revulsion. “I’m —”

“Don’t look at me like that. Stop looking at me like that,” he said tiredly, and Iris shook her head again, but he didn’t miss the slight tremble in her hands. “I do everything that I can.”

“I’m thinking of how you said it would take you very little to make me miserable,” she said, shaking her head, and Eris tensed. “I’m — I’m thinking of what you said you could do to me —”

“Are you thinking of the part I said after? That you were thinking of my father, and I am not him?” he snapped. “I am not him. I actively try my hardest not to be like him in any way especially because — and I don’t know if you noticed from this one sitting with you flinging your feelings at me — but my father doesn’t exactly like me very much.”

He strode up to her and she backed a step, knocking into the vanity as fire blazed in his eyes.

“But I allow him to do and say whatever the fuck he wants to me as long as my mother has to stop taking the brunt of his shit.” he snarled. “I will do everything I can to protect you from him and take the brunt of that as well and I am sorry that it has to be that way and I am sorry that you might have to hear more things from him you won’t like, but I am playing his game so that I can keep worming my way around until I can finish him.”

“That’s what happened with your lover, wasn’t it? Your father kept doing and saying inappropriate things and you stood by letting it happen like a coward until she couldn’t stand you any longer and just gave in to him?” she spat, and Iris knew it was a low blow — one he didn’t rightly deserve as Eris flinched back.

“You were just ready to use that against me, weren’t you?” he snarled. “I only told you that so you understand he would do everything he could to get back at me through you. I’m trying to get you to understand that he would have no qualms about ending your life just to spite me and your father certainly wouldn’t give a shit if my father tossed your decapitated corpse right into the river.”

And it was Iris’s turn to flinch. “Stop.”

“Then understand that I am trying. I am trying my fucken hardest and don’t appreciate that fucken tone, Iris.” he hissed. “Did you even consider what this has been like for me? How much harder everything is now because of you? Do you even know how hard it was for me not to incinerate him on the spot because of the way he was with you? It would ruin everything I have been working towards.”

Iris shoved away from him. “Well, you didn’t now, did you? And all I feel is disgusted. I feel like — I don’t want to —” she stopped and shot him a look of contempt. “I don’t want to share a bed with you. I don’t want whatever the fuck this life is with you.”

She could’ve slapped him and it would’ve bothered him less. He snorted, a look of scorn on his face as he waved a hand.

“Be my guest to sleep in the bathroom then. I don’t give a single fuck, darling wife. It’s not like I’ve benefited much from you in my bed anyway.” he sneered, shooting his own low blow and Iris flinched back again as though he had slapped her. “It must be so terrible to be you. Poor little Iris, married to a prince in a castle that doesn’t think about beating her on the daily.”

Her face fell and it was that expression that extinguished his anger immediately.

“Iris —”

“Don’t.”

She didn’t bother looking at him as she stormed to the bed and grabbed two pillows, the dagger she had hidden beneath them, and ripped the blanket right off then stalked to the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.

Eris looked at the closed door and felt the will to live leave his body. His will to even breathe properly left him.

With a growl and then a heavy sigh, he hung his head and slowly sank into the vanity seat, his eyes on the bathroom door his wife was now hiding.

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra x oc #eris x oc #eris vanserra fanfics #acotar fanfiction #gfics #smtb chapters #if you'd like to be tagged or removed pls let me know #thank you for reading! :)#if I missed anyone pls let me know!

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nomatterwhatnomatterwhere · 1 month ago

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What a (Not so) Strange World XIV

A.N : Surprise surprise! Double Update!

This was supposed to be my New Year Present but I'm slow and I couldn't get it done on time, sorry. Still, hope you like it anyway

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"T-this is t-the worst day of my pathetic life!"

You nodded, stroking the little monster's head, a little confused by what had just happened

You were looking for a table to sit at, a table where there were possibly people you knew, since your friends Yuu and the Problem Child ™ had not shown up yet.

This worried you a little, but given the confusion that day you might not have seen them in the crowd,

You hadn't seen Trey or Cater either. You thought you caught sight of Rook's hat, but when you turned around to take a closer look, you noticed that there was nothing there. You'd seen your brusque classmate - in fact you should have asked him his name - but he was sitting next to the fae from last time, and you had no intention of approaching him.

So you were alone. At lunch. Standing between tables. Like a lost child.

You were about to head out, to eat in the courtyard, if a good soul had not asked you to sit with him and his friend, which you accepted for two absolutely valid reasons

1) you did not want to eat alone 2)you really thought it was difficult for someone to say no to Kalim

The boy had introduced himself and his friend - Jamil - as soon as you sat down and he certainly made an impression.

He talked so much that Jamil occasionally had to remind him to stop for food, but everything he said sounded sincere. It was strange, you couldn't sense any kind of malice from him, which was odd since almost all the students you knew always looked like they never did anything for nothing.

Kalim's presence was almost blinding.

Jamil on the other hand... he was, set, in a way it was like he was holding back. It was a subtle thing, and he probably meant both what he said and what he did, but there was always something, a small thing, that indicated that maybe he wasn't comfortable.

It definitely made you wonder, since from what Kalim had said the two of them had known each other since they were children: with someone you've known for so long, you shouldn't feel uncomfortable.

Despite everything it had been a quiet lunch: both were pleasant company, Kalim was perhaps a little noisy for your taste, but nothing like Grim and the Problem Children.

You had been a little shocked when Kalim had invited you to their dormitory, they had parties every now and then and you were sure to have a good time, and you absolutely had to try Jamil's cooking, if the canteen's was good his was absolutely delicious.

He probably would have continued to sing the praises of Scarabia and Jamil if the latter had not dragged him away, perhaps a little embarrassed by the compliments, to go to class.

With excellent timing, actually, you would see Yuu approach the table and the rest of the group follow, with an absolutely devastated Grim

"I can barely choke down my lunch."

Yuu filled you in on what had happened, and indeed it was strange that Grim, jealous and touchy, had traded his deluxe grilled cheese for a hot dog bun. It was suspiciously strange.

But Yuu had said that in spite of everything Grim had actually agreed to make the swap.

When the little monster tried to take some of Deuce's pasta you slipped him one of the egg sandwiches you'd taken for them, he hadn't even thanked you, but you doubted he'd noticed what he was eating.

He was drowning his discontent in food

You didn't feel like going to the Headmaster, not least because if he wanted to talk about the Overblot issue, you'd already had all the information you could get, but you supposed that after all the insults you'd hurled at him about his incompetence it would be hypocritical of you not to introduce yourself once the Headmaster was actually behaving like a serious adult.

You'd also appreciated his little lesson on ‘what an Overblot is’, but all the respect he'd gotten from you - so very little, Trein and Crewel had been much more specific - had been lost when Yuu had asked if he'd found a way to bring them home

"I have been diligently searching for one, of course. I have certainly not forgotten! It is merely that I've been quite busy of late"

"Your eyes got all shifty all of a sudden"

After explaining that he was busy with organising the Spelldrive Tournament Yuu had obviously asked what Spelldrive was and the two Heartslabyul students seemed totally shocked.

That made you wonder how much they knew about Yuu's situation: you knew he was from another world, a world without magic, it was pretty obvious he would have no idea what the Spelldrive was, yet those two seemed to have completely forgotten about it

"Dude...You've never heard of Spelldrive?!"

Your sour self was ready to answer that stupid question in the most sarcastic tone you had, but you bit your tongue. It wasn't worth fighting with Ace over something so stupid.

Watching Grim's dreams of glory go up in smoke had been equally brutal and funny, brutal because Crowley could have been a little more tactful in telling the weasel that he couldn't take part in the tournament, funny because you had a distinctly broken sense of humour and the little monster's expression as he understood what he had been told made you laugh

This was not exactly his lucky day

Back in Ramshackle he had done nothing but sigh, so much so that the dorm ghosts had decided to play with him to lift his spirits.

You, meanwhile, had started to sort out the things you had in your room, so that you could finally move back to your original room. You didn't have much, really, and you were a little sorry to leave and leave Yuu and Grim in that basement.

Your plans for the ‘move’ came to a halt when you heard Crowley's voice on the floor below, so you decided to go downstairs.

Maybe he was about to tell Yuu that he had found a way to send them home.

You kind of hoped, selfishly, you'd feel less guilty about leaving the dormitory if the dormitory wasn't occupied - ghosts aside - Grim could have come to sleep in your room, because even though he had his own bed he always slept in Yuu's bed, and once you got home, the weasel would ‘inherit’ your room

(After all, you didn't entirely belong to this world either).

Unfortunately for you, Crowley had not come to bring good news; in fact, he was bringing bad news.

"Oh? You DO recall that I have never promised to cover the living expenses you've been racking up, yes?"

That, in your - and Grim's - humble opinion, was nothing less than blackmail.

It was the worst form of blackmail you could use, especially against a person who had not exactly come for a holiday, someone who had been transported here...

You took a big sigh.

You would have discussed it with Trein and Crewel. Maybe even with the RSC Headmaster if necessary.

This was full-on child exploitation, unions existed in this world, so why weren't they intervening?

You swallowed your discontent to focus on what the child exploiter was saying, and for an arrogant egomaniac, the fact that he was asking to investigate the strange incidents that were taking place earned him points

(Although he should have been investigating, or at least some competent authority, not a person without magic and a weasel without any tact)

Yuu was in no position to refuse, and Grim had been bought off by the promise of participating in the tournament.

You realised that perhaps your luggage would be better off staying where it was: you had a feeling you'd be staying in the dormitory a while longer, at least until this whole thing was over.

It was just a matter of security (you didn't need an excuse to stay, absolutely not)

Armed with great patience, you and Yuu followed an excited Grim towards the infirmary, in search of the students who had been injured in the accident.

The guys from Heartslabyul had been very friendly in explaining what had happened, while those from Pomefiore had been much more defensive.

Probably because Grim was too direct, you could understand why the two of them were upset. What you couldn't understand was why they couldn't resolve the situation with words, without bringing up magic duels

"And you're here to ... what, rub salt in my wound? We throw down the gauntlet! Duel us!"

"Gentlemen" you interrupted before Grim could actually get into a duel with the two " I don't think that a Duel is a good idea. It's against the rule, isn't it? And I'm sure you don't want to explain to your Housewarden why you broke the rules. I also don't think Vil would take too kindly to the fact that you may have attacked a friend of his."

"And why should we believe-"

"I can call him right now, if you want’ you said taking the phone ’ Althought I wouldn't want to bother him if he's busy, but if you insist-"

"No, no, it's not necessary"

You had breathed a sigh of relief, you didn't really want to call Vil either, but you would if it was necessary

"Ne, that was a great bluff" complimented Grim once you had left the classroom "Although the great Grim could have defeated them very well in a duel"

You chuckled, as Yuu shook his head

"Well, thank you, Grim, but it wasn't really a bluff " the weasel shuddered heavily.

"So you really do know their Housewarden"

"Hmm, I'd say we're friends, in a couple of days we'll meet for a cup of tea. He's a nice person, though rather... direct. When I was younger I used to fear him a bit, he used to say things like ‘You'll get a hump if you don't straighten your back’ or ‘You should look at people's eyes when you talk to them'."

"That doesn't sound nice, nu-uh."

Grim looked rather annoyed, probably, unlike Yuu, he hadn't noticed the small smile you had while talking about this Vil.

They had noticed it right away, how comfortable you looked talking about this friend of yours, plus you were actually talking about yourself, so Yuu wouldn't have complained

"You're right, he doesn't look it, but I assure you he does. It's just his way of showing that he cares. Maybe you could come too when we meet? I can ask him."

You weren't sure Vil would appreciate unexpected guests, but having talked about it in front of them, it was rude not to ask Yuu - and Grim by osmosis - if they didn't want to come as well

At some point you separated, Yuu and Grim returned to Ramshackle while you headed for the Hall of Mirror, destination Heartslabyul, so you could ask Riddle about the schedule for the tournament and perhaps inform him to watch out for possible suspicious incidents.

@jessiegerl

(Let me know if you wanna be tagged!)

Dividers by @sweetmelodygraphics

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #reader insert #twst x reader #disney #ace trappola #deuce spade #dire crowley #kalim al asim #twst kalim #jamil viper #twst jamil #vil schoenheit #vil twst #fanfic #twst fanfic #twisted wonderland fanfiction #dividers by sweetmelodygraphics

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shxtodxroki · 1 year ago

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𝚃𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚔-𝚘𝚛-𝚃𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝!

Summary: Tsumiki and Megumi are too sick on Halloween to trick-or-treat (and are understandably devastated) so you and Satoru team up to give them the most perfect, exciting Halloween night you possibly can in order to cheer them up.

Flufftober Day 2 Prompt: Family, Friends, Loved Ones

Warnings: Reader is considered a parent (not biologically) to Tsumiki and Megumi, so I would recommend not reading this if that makes you uncomfortable! Also idk if this needs a warning but Gojo (and subsequently reader) are pretty rich and have a super fancy house

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Gender Neutral! Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Check out my full Flufftober masterlist here!

The sound of a pitiful, sad sneeze draws your attention to the young girl sitting beside you on the couch, your heart squeezing at the crestfallen expression painted so clearly across her face as she snuggles further into your side. One glance towards your other child, begrudgingly wrapped up in your husband’s arms as he sits atop his lap, tells you that he’s just as disappointed about how this evening has turned out, and you desperately find yourself wishing that you could push tonight's internationally celebrated holiday back just a few days so that your precious children could celebrate alongside their peers.

Poor Megumi and Tsumiki had, unfortunately, fallen very sick the day before Halloween, leaving both of them heartbreakingly out of commission for trick-or-treating and forced to spend the spookiest day of the year stuck inside, cuddled up to their parents as they nursed their poor, sickly bodies. Satoru had been almost as devastated as the kids when he realized their fate, knowing just how much this tradition meant to both of them (and having been looking forward to sneaking a few handfuls from their candy stashes as “parent tax” to satiate his undeniable sweet tooth) as the two of you desperately tried to come up with a last-minute plan to salvage as much of the holiday as you could for your beloved children.

Unfortunately, it seems that the last-minute plan the two of you came up with is a bit of a dud, as while both kids tried to enjoy the movie you had turned on for them (The Nightmare Before Christmas, their favorite Halloween movie) and the candy you had bought especially for them (catered to each of their tastes and favorites), you could both easily see that their hearts weren’t in it, and they were still feeling down about having to miss out on such an exciting holiday celebration. You were itching to come up with a new idea, some way to lift their spirits and give them the truly wonderful Halloween the two deserved even from the comfort of your own home.

After a few minutes of stewing anxiously in your own head with no success as you pretend to watch the movie, you eventually shoot your husband a glance of concern as you pick up the half-empty popcorn bowl on the table and rise to your feet, gently removing yourself from Tsumiki’s hold as your husband did the same with your other child.

“You two keep enjoying the movie, the two of us are gonna go warm up some more popcorn for you!” You try to keep your voice light and cheerful as your husband hits both kids with his best, most authentic enthusiastic grin, and both kids attempt to give you small smiles in return, though it's clear you’re all just dancing around one another in a masquerade of happiness with your pitiful attempts to hide your feelings. Still, you make your way to the kitchen as nonchalantly as you can, with Satoru following close behind you as you begin speaking to one another in hushed voices the moment you’re certain the children can’t hear or see you.

“Satoru, this isn’t working at all. We have to come up with something else, I hate seeing the two of them so heartbroken.” Your eyes plead with him for a solution to this problem, your heart aching at the sight of your babies unable to participate in the typical annual holiday fun of Halloween night. The pout on your husband’s face makes it clear he feels just the same, his hand coming up to card through his hair as you both rack your brains for ideas.

“I know, I know. I just…. I dunno what will make them happy. We already bought them all the candy they could possibly ask for…” He mumbles, thinking to himself. Satoru’s mind always went to sweets first, but because it was Halloween, you had hoped that buying the kids all their favorite sweet treats would help mitigate the loss of the trick-or-treating experience at least somewhat. You could see now, though, that the candy was no match for the experience itself (despite the kids’ attempts to be grateful for what the two of you had done and to not seem upset).

Your thoughts are brought to a sudden, screeching halt by a sharp gasp from your husband, his face suddenly lighting up with a bright, genuine grin you've come to both love and dread. You hold your breath hopefully as you wait to see if he has an answer, some way to fix this lackluster Halloween and raise your childrens’ spirits.

“I have the perfect idea.” He brags as his bright blue eyes light up with joy, peering past the kitchen entrance to glance at the nearly full bowl of candy sitting by the children on the couch. “Why don’t we let them trick-or-treat in here?”

The two of you had gotten lucky, it had only taken about half an hour for Satoru to set everything up while you kept the kids distracted with the movie, wanting to surprise them with an idea that you prayed would work in boosting their spirits. You don’t mention a word of your plan until Satoru has everything set up, biting back the hopeful grin on your face as you watch him run down the stairs and stumble to a stop in front of the children. Their confused faces, accompanied by soft sniffles and sneezes, cause your heart to clench for what feels like the hundredth time this evening, hoping and praying that this is what they need right now.

“I need you two to go get your costumes on right now!” He exclaims once he comes to a stop, sporting a genuinely enthusiastic grin. “Y/n and I have a surprise for you!”

The kids glance at one other, seemingly hesitantly hopeful at his words, as he pulls out the hangers holding each of their costumes from behind his back. You both knew that one of the biggest disappointments they had faced when getting sick was the fact that they were unable to wear and show off the costumes they had been so excited for, and you can see the way their eyes instantly light up as they're told that they'll get to wear them after all. The genuine smiles that brighten their faces as they rush to him to grab the costumes nearly cause your eyes to water, feeling so incredibly thankful that you had found a way to make this up to them after all.

“Now, obviously we can’t take you guys trick-or-treating outside, since we can’t let you spread your cooties around to anyone else.” Satoru teases the kids, as Tsumiki giggles at his remarks. “But…. luckily for the two of you, I happen to have a huge house and plenty of extra candy, so why don’t you just trick-or-treat in here?”

You can see the confusion on the childrens’ faces at the offer, so you jump in as your husband wraps an arm around your waist and lets you explain the new plan for the evening. “We were thinking we could put this giant house to good use, so that the two of you can still trick-or-treat! Satoru and I can pretend to be people handing out candy, and you two can go through the hallways and trick-or-treat from us!” You smile softly at them as you speak, hoping they’ll be excited about this idea as you lean in to your husband’s warmth beside you to avoid the anxious habit of picking at your nails. “I know it’s not the same as actual trick-or-treating, but we still want to give you guys the best night possible even if you’re stuck inside, so what do you say?”

For a second, the room is silent, and you feel your heart plummet into your stomach as the children stare at you with expressions you can’t begin to decipher. When they run up to hug the two of you, however, your fears are immediately relinquished and you pull the two into a warm embrace. “Sounds like fun!” Tsumiki grins as her small arms attempt to wrap around you and Satoru simultaneously, sounding brighter and more full of energy than she has ever since she first fell ill.

Megumi’s always been quieter and more reserved than his sister, but you can see the small, genuine smile he wears on his face as well as he joins in on the family hug. “Thank you guys for doing this for us.” He mumbles, burying his face into your chest for a moment as you pat his head gently.

After taking a moment to enjoy this embrace from your two children, Satoru sends them off to their rooms to change into their costumes as you lean in to press a soft peck to his cheek, attempting to convey how thankful you are to him for saving the night for all for of you. “You’re so smart sometimes, babe. You really have a way with those two.”

You know your praise will go straight to his ego, and his prideful smirk only confirms that, but you can let him have the boost just this once. He manages to sneak in one small, quick kiss to your lips as the two of you make your way up the stairs, momentarily hidden away from the prying eyes of your children as you prepare for a long and busy evening. “What can I say, baby? I've been telling you, I’m the greatest man you’ll ever meet.”

Before you can begin to chastise him for his cockiness you hear the small pitter-patter of your children running up the stairs, and the two of you give each other one last loving glance as you make your way down to the end of the hallway and split off to enter into two of the many unoccupied rooms of your home. Satoru already has small collections of candy set up in each room, ready to hand out when your children come knocking, and you feel like you can finally breathe easy as you hear the soft sound of knocking echo from the other side of your door.

The rest of the evening is filled with smiles, candy and a chorus of “trick-or-treat”s from your two adorably dressed babies, sending you and Satoru flying throughout the house as you answer each door over and over until they’re finally satisfied with the amount of candy they’ve each amassed in their pillow-cases. When the chaos has finally settled and the two are sat down on the living room floor, participating in the classic tradition of candy trading (alongside Satoru, using some spare candy of his own he had bought and hidden from the two in your shared closed) you set the spare candy aside for a later date, before returning to the couch to watch the three of them with a fond gaze.

Their trading continues for some time, as Tsumiki clammers for anything with peanut butter in it while Megumi opts for any of the fruity or sour candies, and your husband just takes whatever sugar he can weasel out of the kids (despite the fact that he bought the candy himself, and could’ve chosen whatever he wanted to keep. And once the three are finally finished exchanging for their desired candy, you decide to let the kids enjoy as much of their Halloween loot as they’d like just for tonight, knowing that they probably won’t eat much anyways considering their poor health and weak stomachs.

It doesn’t take long after that for both children to wind up passed out on the floor, intense sugar crashes and the realization of the amount of energy they spent throughout the evening crashing down onto them all at once and knocking them out cold as they snore softly. Satoru takes this moment of quiet as his chance to finally cuddle up to you, sneaking up to join you on the couch and pulling you into his side as he makes quick work of peppering kisses along your neck.

“I’d say this was a pretty successful Halloween after all, wouldn’t you, beautiful?” He asks with a cheeky grin, clearly listening for more praise for his efforts and ideas. Though, for once, you don’t roll your eyes or push your husband away as a result of your cheeky antics. Just this once, you’re willing to allow him to be just a bit cocky, turning your head so his lips meet yours instead of your neck in a quick sneak attack before tucking your head into the crook of his neck.

“Yeah, you did an amazing job Toru. Really.” You nod happily, thankful that the two of you had found a way to brighten up the day for the sake of the kids. “You could tell they had an absolute blast….. Though I’m pretty sure they’ll be sore tomorrow morning if they sleep on the floor like that, so we should probably get them to bed.”

Rather than heeding your advice, however, Satoru pulls away from you for only a moment as he picks up your children one at a time, moving them carefully as if they’re made of glass as he’s unusually careful not to wake them. He rests little Megumi next to you, his head immediately falling into your lap as Tsumiki’s head rests on your husband’s. And once the children are settled, he quickly makes his way back to you, leaning back to let you rest your head on his chest and snuggle up to him as well. “I think I like this a lot better, actually.” He grins, content as he snuggles with his three favorite people in the universe.

“Happy Halloween, love.” You mumble, ghosting your lips over his jaw in a feather-light kiss before allowing your eyes to drift closed as you find yourself completely at peace in his warm, soothing hold. “I love you.”

And Satoru has an absolutely foolish, lovestruck grin on his face as he watches you fall asleep alongside your children, holding you close to his heart as he kisses your head in return and allows his own eyes to flutter closed with a heart full of love for all three of you. “I love you more, baby. Happy Halloween.”

Request - Anonymous said: hello! for flufftober, please consider writing something for gojou (jjk), saeyoung (mysme) or keigo (bnha) ):

Anonymous said: after what happened, i need something of satoru gojou for your flufftober, would you mind writing something for him???

A/N: Y’all I have essentially been fixated on this man ALONE (plus a tiiiiny bit of Rengoku from KNY here and there but that’ll come later lol) for over a month at this point lol so I knew I was gonna write about him from the moment I started planning this event, but I was happy to see so many requests for him as well! Literally the first two requests I got for this event were both for Gojo which made me very happy lol :] Also

(WARNING FOR MANGA SPOILERS PAST THIS POINT, DO NOT READ BEYOND HERE IF YOU DON’T WANT THE RECENT MANGA LEAKS SPOILED)

After what’s happened recently, I definitely agree that some fluffy Gojo was necessary :( I was so distraught when I saw what happened on TikTok, I got home from school and literally cried lol but now I am in denial and convincing myself that he is actually fine and definitely not dead! 😃🙃 Plus it’s just been devastating to me to know what’s happening to Megumi and their whole little family rn too, so I’ve just been in need of some cute family bonding to ease the pain :’) I hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it, I look forward to posting for the rest of Flufftober and my requests are currently open right now, so feel free to send any requests you may have my way! :)

Taglist: @flufftober

If you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, you can fill out this form here! Thank you for your support <3

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