#they share a sad smile as they kill each other in the name of something that doesn't exist anymore

[nameishname]

man the thing that always gets me the most about transformers is when they know each other by name. Like,, sure it hurts when they do because they knew each other pre war. But really when it's like,,, knowing someone by name because you've fought each other so many times in so many battles all during the same unending war that you know this person. Like, sometimes it's even more than just knowing their name sometimes you know this person. The characters that have playful relationships with each other that met for the first time on the battlefield. That are actively trying to kill each other, but will be sad about it and miss them when the other is gone. The ones that bond in unlikely situations just to go back to fighting as soon as the dust settles. Sometimes it's even at a time where the war has lost its point or contradicts what they were even fighting for in the first place. Where they're literally doomed to fight into extinction or.. stop. But they don't stop. Like, idk... The autobots and decepticons pretty much always end up fighting for an amount of time so large it's literally inconceivable. And at the end there's often so few of them left, and they mostly all know each other intimately and by name and like,,,

Idk this is really rambly and I'm having a bit of trouble articulating but sometimes I really stop and think about how many of them know each other specifically through fighting and it gets to me a little bit

[chewingcyanide]

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 | 𝐣. 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

₊⊹ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 — secretly pining over someone is never fun—even less so when they’re your childhood best friend, and dating someone else.

₊⊹ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 —all the angst, jealousy, thoughts of inferiority, cursing, big sadness from reader over here, not proofread i got better things to do

₊⊹ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — jack hughes x fem!reader

₊⊹ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 — my valentine’s day jhughes special (albeit a day late ☹️), as promised! sorry it took me so long. couldn’t figure out how to end it. this is unapologetically self-indulgent. also not a wip, but i HAD to do it to em. i’m sorry if your name is brooke or bianca. i love you. promise. maybe we’ll make a part two, if yall like it enough!

₊⊹ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 — @dancerbailey3, @bellstwd, @kashee-h, @crazycat-ladys-blog, @brucewaynegfreal, @love4dlr, @jackhughesily, @leavethemonsteralive, @loveforaugust, @43hughes, @nathandoe, @choppedlamphandscowboy, @bunting58, @angelayse, @ru-kru, @sleepretreat, @nonsensical-nonsence, @maih23 (if your name is white, i couldn’t tag you!)

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Everyone knows the saying you never know what you have until you lose it. Truth was, you knew exactly what you had—you’d just never imagined you’d lose it.

You never imagined you’d lose him.

A shared childhood and mothers’ who found friendship with each other had brought you and Jack Hughes together, kept you glued even as skin stretched and futures diverged—where he’d gone on to be a star hockey player, you’d quietly came into adulthood, trekking through the difficulties of college.

In your younger years, Jack had always been there. Life of the party, a mirrorball everyone gravitated to for its decadent shine—you, contrastingly, felt like a sore thumb at parties, attending them only to see the smile on Jack’s face. Differing personalities and life routes aside, Jack was your person. The first person you called whenever you were sad, or happy, or bored. The one who knew all of your test scores first, who took hours long flights just to visit you during breaks in the season.

Distance nor time had left a lasting mark on your friendship, kept together by constant phone calls and texts. Whilst you remained imbedded in the hustle of Toronto, Jack was trapped in New Jersey—a gap that you closed every summer, when mutual desire to see one another (as well as his brothers) brought you and him to Michigan for a few months.

From childhood, to high school, to now—it had always been you two. Jokes passed in the years, swirling around with assumptions of the two of you ending up together, finally realizing it after years of proclaimed friendship. For Jack, it’d never been romantic. Loving and caring, a relationship he’d never trade for the world, but the intimacy ended there. Memories of him outwardly flirting with girls in front of you at bars or parties flashed in your mind any time you figured maybe; he’d never given any indicator that you were or would ever be more to him than his best friend.

For you? It was an embarrassingly different story.

College had stolen much of your time—left none for a love life. But truthfully, that didn’t much phase you.

Hookups, flings, boyfriends—all of them paled in comparison to Jack. A childhood crush perpetuated by maturation without loss of contact, Jack had just… always been there. Always a best friend, never a lover; the hanging axe of rejection was too dire a outcome for you to ever consider telling him. Killing a friendship you’d grown with would kill you. And maybe he felt the same way, maybe the kisses he reserved for the crown of your head and the guiding hand he kept on the small of your back meant something, but you couldn’t continue existing if they didn’t.

So, a dutiful friend, you kept quiet, spared the connection and suffered in unrequited love.

And it hadn’t really changed until Jack had gotten a girlfriend. In all your years of knowing him, he’d had a few—though they rarely lasted more than a handful of months, and a selfish and bitter part of you liked that. Sometimes they overstepped, viewed themselves above you in the ranking of Jack’s life; he made painfully clear they never would be.

And it felt good, to be that cherished. But then you remembered he didn’t actually love you and it felt a whole lot less impactful.

Not Brooke.

Brooke, a box-dye blonde with a less-than-stellar reaction to your friendship with her boyfriend, was unarguably beautiful—unapproachably so, someone you’d picture whenever thinking of the girl Jack would end up with. You knew it would never be you, but you hated that it was her, hated that it was finally cemented, the coffin wheeled out.

A friendship you’d cherished for years had been weathered down by the abrasive actions of his girlfriend. It left a bitter taste in your mouth; Jack never seemed privy to Brooke’s nonverbal dislike of you, and you never made comment of it. If Jack was happy, what did it matter? If you said anything, all you’d appear to be was a child throwing a tantrum, the attention torn from them. You refused to jeopardize Jack’s happiness, even if it meant shredding your own.

Brooke tolerated you; that was the best word you could think of. There was surely no excess of love, but you didn’t think she flat out despised you, either. Passive aggressive to the point of just being aggressive, snide looks whenever she didn’t think you could see, intentionally separating you from Jack whenever the two of you were talking—it all made you hate being around her, and by extension, him.

So when he’d invited you to dinner with him—and some of his teammates, a monthly ritual at his house—the knee jerk reaction had been to decline, lie, run while you were still free from the piercing glare of Brooke; because you knew she’d be there, clung to his side, as if you had any intention of taking him away.

… Well, you’d did have the intention. Never the will, so then again maybe she was right to hate you. Feelings you’d never act on, words you’d never say—none of it mattered. She had him. Not you. Never you.

You should’ve said no.

Pouting eyes and pleading lips caved you. As soon as you’d agreed, you’d regretted it—knew in your bones it would only serve to wedge the knife in your heart deeper, solidify the loss of a what you thought would be a lifelong partnership. Your platonic soulmate, twin flame pinched out by hateful fingers.

Getting ready for the dinner felt like preparing for a cage fight, where all night you’d have do endure blow after blow—them kissing, them touching, him loving her in a way you wished he’d love you.

Night blanketed the sky by the time you’d arrived to Jack’s home, shadows slipping by the window, shapes of people telling you that you were likely late—the stone in your stomach had slowed you monumentally. The torture was self-inflicted, you knew. There would be no pity when your heart finally gave out.

She did this to herself, they’d say. Hearts can only endure so much before they break.

Voices coalesced into one as you pushed open the door, welcomed by the familiar atmosphere of friendship and loud laughter. You’d completely forgotten to text Jack that you’d gotten here—and for some reason, as you crossed the threshold into the gaping space of his living room, you felt like an outsider. Sudden eyes landed on you like bullets, and all you saw was Jack—his side taken dutifully by Brooke, always beautiful, striking in a way you didn’t think you’d ever been.

Looking at her, it made sense why she was the one Jack chose. Why you hadn’t been. A best friend. Childhood acquaintance. Faded t-shirt he’d strung along for too many years, even as the design weathered away and the fabric weakened. He’d gotten a shiny new one, the novelty still in tact, yet he hadn’t let you go.

Some part of you, deep in the caves of your wounded heart, wished Brooke would ban him from your presence. Maybe then your hurt would lessen. You knew you’d never be able to let go on your own.

Jack’s eyes caught you, stood awkwardly in the mouth of the hallway. He attempted to stand, only for Brooke to tug him down by his t-shirt—the shirt you’d bought him for his birthday last year, impressed with two hearts holding hands. She said something to him, something low and hissed between clenched teeth. Before you could see his reaction, Nico was invading your space, arms winding around you.

“There she is!” he announced, the ground leaving your feet as he lifted you playfully. “We were waiting on you to eat. Sure do like to take your time.”

Residual bitterness faded at Nico’s words—Jack may have been your best friend, but years of being attached to him introduced you to his teammates; they were always kind, if a little overbearing. A big brother that toed the line of overprotective and well-wishing.

Grateful for the attention distractor, you allowed your shoulders to relax and lungs to decompress. The first cut at seeing Jack, still happily in love with Brooke, was already dealt; you just needed to get through the dinner, and not look like a hostage while doing so.

“Yeah, yeah,” you laughed, shoving Nico’s shoulder as he brought you towards where the others were gathered in the living room. “Make fun of me for driving like a grandma all you want, at least I’m safe.”

Not looking at Jack took more self control than you’d care to admit. Blurring in your peripheral, a mess of colors stacked atop one another, you knew if you glanced—saw the claim Brooke was staking for all to see—it would only make you want to leave. So you didn’t.

Luke was next to greet you, offering a pity-imbued smile. Despite never mentioning your affections for his older brother, you knew he knew; saw it in the way he would look at you, the frowns offered. In times when Brooke inadvertently talked you down, it was Luke who told her off, put balm on the wound.

A side hug and a soft smile—you barely were able to muster one yourself. “How have classes been?”

You graced Luke with an exasperated groan. “Terrible, thanks for reminding me. Economics is kicking my ass.”

Luke sat. You remained standing. A loose thread peeking from your sweatshirt seemed far more intriguing than eyes you were trying desperately not to meet.

“Tough luck,” remarked Luke, conversations reviving after the novelty of your arrival wore off. You recognized a couple of faces around you—Dawson, Jesper, Alexander, and John. Faces you’d become acquainted with in your years of being Jack’s friend.

The title felt a bitter reminder of your ceiling, never surpassing Jack’s best friend. Loved and cherished, a desired presence, just not how you wanted. Who were you to complain? It was better to be his friend than nothing at all; to have a little piece of him, proof that at one point, you’d mattered enough to get it.

You just weren’t sure if you did anymore.

Where once Jack’s name was a regular occurrence, flashing on your phone screen—texts, calls, FaceTimes, they all faded once Brooke came into his life. Movie nights on his couch, reruns of old films that you could quote down to the last line, stopped. You knew Jack cared enough to extend invites, but at this point, you figured it was more out of pity and shame than actual want of your company.

Beggars really couldn’t be choosers.

Eventually, everyone made their way into the dining room. Chairs lined a large wooden table, one chosen and haphazardly assembled by you and Jack when he’d first bought this house. Scratches imbedded in the finish sent flashes of dropped hammers and clumsy feet into your mind, memories that felt too far to touch.

Mind far afield, you sat down—somewhere between Luke and Nico, far enough from Jack to be inconspicuous but close enough to feel the sharp burn of his eyes. It was petty, you knew, to have still not greeted him. Not that Brooke would’ve likely even let you. A sadistic part of you wanted him to feel even a modicum of the agony that rattled you whenever you were forced to watch him and Brooke, wanted to wonder and question why you were so cold.

Then again, maybe he didn’t care.

Body detached from your mind, the last thing you expected was to be spoken to—least of all by Brooke. But there her grating voice was, verging on overuse, but you knew that was just how she talked. Chafing and annoying and awful—

“Still no boyfriend?” A venomous smile curled her lips; friendly to the untrained eye. You knew better.

Your fingers twitched. The food in front of you spoiled, appetite evaporated. Of course she asked that—both a jab and a reassurance; if you had a boyfriend, her relationship with Jack would be safe. Not that it wasn’t, regardless.

You wished you could scream at her, leap across the table and force her to hear your words: you’d never have Jack. Want him, yes. Spend years pining over a boy who looked to you like the sister he never had, absolutely. But actually have him, feel his love in every touch and kiss? No. That wasn’t on the cards for you; you’d folded long ago.

“Nope,” you drawled. The pressure of Jack’s stare caved you—you caught his eyes, eyebrows creased, the wrinkle of his forehead that made itself prominent whenever he was annoyed.

What did he possibly have to be annoyed about?

Catching Luke’s gaze only irked you further, alit the urge to push out of your chair and flee Jack’s home. Pity swelled in his eyes, the beginnings of a frown quirking down his lips. You didn’t want pity; didn’t want to feel like the entire world was in on some inside joke you’d never understand. Everyone saw it, your love for Jack. Saw the lovestruck comedy that was your life—girl loves boy, boy isn’t even aware of it, hilarity ensues.

Everyone but Jack. And honestly, that was for the best.

You didn’t think you’d be able to handle the frown when he found out. Jack Hughes, always kind, never malignant, searching for a way to politely turn down his best friend without taking an axe to the connection. Really, there would be no bloodless way to let it die—so you lived in moments between, where nothing felt impactful or important or real.

When Jack was without Brooke, you could almost imagine he was your Jack—the one who turned down every girl so that he’d be free to go to prom with you, the one who got banned from a restaurant for life for pouring a drink over your cheating ex-boyfriend’s head. The Jack who always protected you, always cared, even when all of his friends couldn’t understand it.

That Jack who currently hand his arm around the back of Brooke’s chair, shoulders touching—a casual thing, something you’d done with countless strangers, yet it felt impactful enough to make bile swim in your throat.

“Probably for the best,” Luke interjected after the conversation—if it even was that—between you and Brooke came to an awkward stalemate. “Guys are dicks.”

A tension somehow always existed whenever you were in a room with Brooke. One you never wanted, never fed into. Like a shadow, the morning mist, it hung thick as smog. Choking you, nearly forcing you from the room.

“You’re a guy,” you laughed weakly, offering Luke a pointed look.

“No one at college, then?” Nico piped up. You felt bad for not looking at him, but he was too close to Jack and Brooke—you didn’t want to see them.

Cozy, warm in a way you thought only you’d ever be with Jack. Familiar, united. Their relationship didn’t seem as superficial as his past ones had, woven together under the pretense of good sex and no real connection. Watching Jack love his new, perfect girlfriend made you physically ill; and maybe that was dramatic, maybe it made you a backwards person with failing morals—you couldn’t care anymore.

Years of hiding your love, months of watching his own be poured into a girl that wanted you out of his life—it wore you down to your bones, dangerously close to burning to ash.

“Most of them are… strange, to say the least,” you responded with a wince. And that was true; your major seemed to just attract men whose one quality was making women uncomfortable. “Plus, having a boyfriend would just distract me. Finals are coming up and I’m already worried about how I’m going to do on them.”

Luke scoffed. “Hookups exist.”

A wince followed Luke’s words. Eyes fell to where Jessica was rubbing her hand—Jack apologized, albeit half-heartedly. Confusion overcame you; had he squeezed her hand too tightly?

In the past, you’d had boyfriends. Not that they lasted very long. Somehow, there was always something wrong with them—something only Jack could see; he’d endlessly nitpick, nag, explain why your newest boyfriend wasn’t good enough for you.

They were too old, too uptight, not nice enough. Always something. And without fail, Jack was right—scarcely did they make it past the first date before some measly excuse fell from their lips. But maybe it wasn’t them; maybe it was you. So, with an aching heart refusing to connect with any other but Jack’s, you gave up. Delved headfirst into college work and stayed below the waves, even as they began to drown you.

All you offered in response to Luke was a shrug.

Conversation picked up then, thankfully fell away from you. Limelight sufficiently dimmed, you allowed yourself to watch Jack; a habit you’d never quite shaken, even in the embarrassing moments when he caught your peering gaze.

You weren’t sure exactly when you’d fallen in love with Jack—just that you had, and now you couldn’t touch the bottom of him. Water filled your lungs, suffocated you, but if drowning meant being near him, you’d happily do it. Dying in his platonic embrace seemed better than dying all alone.

Ruffled brown hair, the sort of charm that every boy-next-door seemed to possess, and clear blue eyes that shone every emotion like a transparent window to his soul—all of it made Jack Jack, the boy you loved, would admire even in moments he didn’t think he deserved reverence.

You’d seen it all: the self-deprecation after his failure of a rookie year, dwindling confidence, tears imbued with hurt and disappointment, frustration of someone who knew they were better. It was you who’d been by his side, proved an anchor to a person you couldn’t live without.

Yet he’d still chosen Brooke.

For most people, that would be the last step off the cliff, boneless body breaking against the canyon. Not you—so full of hope and dreams, undeterred by every sign the universe gave you. You weren’t his only, but at least you were one.

Jack’s lips parted into a smile, one you could tell was real—his kissed Brooke’s temple, pinched her on the side. An intimate moment in a crowded room. You felt almost as if you were trespassing, a stranger watching two people in love. Part of you didn’t even associate that boy as Jack, because you couldn’t understand how he could love someone so averse to you, so… mean. But then again, it wasn’t about you.

It was about him. Accommodations had been made for years—leaving parties early because you were uncomfortable, blowing off his guy friends to comfort you after a bad date, scrapping his wants and his plans because of something to do with you.

He was probably sick of it. Sick of you, dictating what he could and couldn’t do. Who he could and couldn’t date. Because who cared if Brooke hated you; Jack loved her, despite it all. And that was what made dread swirl into a storm in your heart, ribs nearly cracking under the rate it was thundering at.

Abruptly, you stood. Felt the chair nearly topple. Eyes came to you—Jack’s friends. Yours, yes, but Jack’s foremost. You were just intruding, butting into a life that no longer fit you. Time had passed, the wishful minds of children grown into adulthood. He didn’t owe you anything anymore, especially when all you were was a storm cloud over his parade.

Just as soon as you had, Jack stood, concern clear in his gaze. “What’s wrong?”

Your tongue felt like lead. “Nothing—nothing, sorry. I’m—I need to use the restroom.”

You didn’t wait much longer before leaving the room.

Air felt scarce, lungs punctured and deflating quicker than you could patch the holes. Clumsily, you pushed open the door to the bathroom, steadied your shaking hands on the edge of the sink. Looking at yourself, reflection marred by the onset of tears, all you could do was compare—compare to Brooke, to every girl Jack had ever wanted, ever liked, ever loved.

Was it their features, doughy lips that worshipped him in a way you didn’t? Was it their bodies, womanly and free in a way you didn’t like to be? Or was it deeper, were their souls crafted from the same light, in a way you’d always thought your own had been with Jack’s?

Idiot, fool, dreamer—you were all of it. Like a lap dog, bird in its teeth, you always returned, remained dutifully at Jack’s side for the moment he might open the screen door and finally let you in.

Brooke had every right to hate you. Perceptive in a way Jack wasn’t, she saw what everyone else did—the lovesick eyes, foolish faith chaining you to him, an unrealized desire that would never be acted on. Had you been in Brooke’s place, you would’ve hated yourself as well.

Water poured from the faucet, gathered in your cupped palms. Attempting to desecrate any evidence of tears, you gently splashed the water in your face—went to dry it when you heard the sound of the front door creaking open.

“Oh, thank God you’re here, Bee.”

Cold crept up your spine. Eavesdropping was wrong—you knew that, yet still found yourself leaning against the bathroom door to catch Brooke’s words.

“What’s going on?” came the response, likely the voice of Bianca, Brooke’s best friend. You’d met her once at a game (met was a loose word; she’d given you a snide look and taken to ignoring you the entire time).

Brooke’s voice lowered to the point where you were forced to strain to hear her speak. “You know Jack’s little pet?”

A lapse. Your heart seized, taken by some concoction of shame and surprise.

“No.”

“Yes!” responded Brooke. “She’s fucking everywhere. I asked Jack not to invite her tonight, and lo and behold—”

“Wait, I thought you talked to Jack?”

“I did.” Vexation laced every letter. “I told him it made me uncomfortable how close they were, how she was always around, blah blah. He got defensive, but he said he’d talk to her.”

“Clearly not,” Bianca muttered. “Look, I wouldn’t worry about it. They’re childhood friends, yeah? He probably feels like he has to stay her friend, or something. I mean, Jack’s a good guy, he wouldn’t intentionally hurt anyone; if he dropped her, he’d look like a douche. I’m sure she’ll get the hint eventually.”

Footsteps began, voices fading along with them. “I fucking hope. It’s honestly pathetic.”

Blood roared in your ears, drowned out the sound of your beating heart—if it was even beating anymore. Something bitter and hot invaded your airways, lashed like whips against your flesh. It was no secret Brooke disliked you, disliked the closeness of you and Jack, but to hear it, the vicious way it fell from her lips—it made your gut twist and constrict, pushing bile towards your throat.

Pathetic. They thought you were pathetic, hopelessly waiting, like a dead plant praying for flowers that would never come. Lovelorn, seeking affection that only came by way of friendship and never more; they were right, and it became evident with a strike of lightning to your body.

Is that truly how Jack felt? Was he waiting for you to give up, so to spare you the hurt of being let down? Had you become baggage? Chained to him, the memory of childhood the only thing keeping you relevant, when times were less impactful and his life didn’t center around being a professional athlete. The stain of youth, remaining only for its joyful memory; that’s all you were now—a memory.

Just like your love, it seemed everyone saw Jack’s hints but you. Rose-colored lenses blurred everything but what you wished to see; of course you missed them, ignored them so your narrative remained intact.

God, you were an idiot. A fucking idiot.

Head pounding, the squeeze of an oncoming migraine rattling your brain, you opened the bathroom door. Felt like a trapped bird all the way back to the table—you just had to get through dinner, only an hour or two, so as to not raise any suspicion, and then you could fade from Jack’s life.

Not that he’d notice. He hadn’t even spoken to you tonight, though no fault of his own; Brooke kept her claws deep, and it was clear he didn’t want to risk an argument. Not that you could blame him—she was his girlfriend. Her. Not you. He didn’t owe you anything.

Conversations filled your ears, ostracized you—every time you had opened your mouth before, it had felt wrong, the scratch on a vinyl everyone skipped over. You saw him first—noticeably tense, chair a bit further away from Brooke that it had been earlier. Tensed forehead, hands balled on the table; you longed to ask what was wrong, as you were used to doing. But you imagined talking to him, and it somehow felt wrong, a peasant addressing a king.

Then, your eyes fell to your seat.

No longer empty, occupied now by Bianca, who was talking casually with Brooke, as if her actions hadn’t changed your entire perception of the situation. There were no more seats. No more room. The metaphor wasn’t lost on you, hit with the same sting of antiseptic on a wound—there wasn’t any more room for you at the table, just as there was no room for you in Jack’s life.

Maybe this was always meant to happen. Childhood didn’t remain forever, and it seemed, neither was your friendship. You’d always wondered why Jack had chosen you, someone so dissimilar to himself and his friends. Eventually, you made peace with it. His friendship was a balm to everything negative. Now… here you were again, more ostracized than ever.

What were you supposed to do? The long haul wasn’t meant to have an end.

Everyone was looking at you now. Stage fright, you lost your speech, thousands of eyes from a crowd looking at you, spotlight centered on your face, and you couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t—

Blue eyes found you, stood stonily at the entrance of the dining room. Jack’s eyebrows knitted, confused as to why you were still stood. When he saw Bianca, his lip curled. Frustration sparked, bemusement painted over. Once more that protective streak flared, something you were so used to—it had once felt the greatest trophy, proof that the Jack Hughes cared enough to stand up for you. It felt a sore consolation now, a reminder that, as always, you’d be the meek girl from his childhood he was forced to drag along, defend, shield from his new life that he fit into perfectly, that you spilled out from.

“Get up.”

Then, the attention went to him.

Brooke glanced at her boyfriend, annoyance flashing on her face. Their conversation paused. “What?”

Jack nodded towards Bianca. “She took her seat,” he explained in a clipped voice. “Get up.”

Brooke rolled her eyes. “Jack, it’s not a big—”

“It is,” he interrupted. Tension sparked in the air like a misfired firework. “She needs to sit and Bianca took her place, so—”

“It’s fine!” The words spilled out before you could second guess them. They came out raw and pained and everything you didn’t want to appear as; pity pooled from everyone, that sort of second-hand pity you saw on strangers faces when you’d lose your footing and fall.

It was too much. Pins dug into your skin, all of a sudden too tight. You needed to leave. Now, before your bones crumbled and heart gave out and finally everything burst.

“I—um, I should probably get going, anyway,” you said, nodding as if trying to be convincing. “With finals comin’ up I should get in as much studying as I can.”

Determination was something you’d always admired about Jack; it only irked you now. He stood, shrugged off Brooke’s outstretched hand and came to stand before you, and God—it was a disservice to not admire him, even as annoyance creased his eyes and drew inwards his lips. Beauty, in such a raw form, it startled you. Growing up, he’d always been the center of everyones attention. The hockey prodigy, the first overall draft pick, the franchise player for the Devils.

You? You’d been nothing special. Yet he’d still chosen you. And here he was, apparently doing it again—but why? Why when he had a beautiful girlfriend and a perfect life and fun friends did he always come back, when clearly you were no more than a burden?

You tried not to seem spiteful. You did. But it was so hard to hide your wounds and ignore their pain. He may not have seen them, but they were unfortunately still there. And it seemed they always would be.

“You can’t,” he said, searched your gaze—he’d always been able to see straight through you, with such simplicity it frightened you. You tried to shuttered your expression, hide your pain. It wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have. “Dinner’s just started—”

“Really, J, it’s fine.” Heat bored into your face where you knew Brooke was staring, daring you to express any deeper connection with Jack past the sheltered friendliness you were currently forcing.

You weren’t going to budge. Jack saw that, and so he sighed and glanced out the window. “I’ll drive you home.”

Oh, God. Nothing was ever easy. Pushing and pushing and pushing until you weren’t sure you even wanted to get up anymore, to even try. Every time you did, right back down you went, encapsulated by everything Jack.

Freedom felt a forgotten thing. You couldn’t remember a time when you didn’t love Jack, when he wasn’t at the forefront of your mind, main star of the play.

And honestly, you were tired. Tired of wishing for something that would never happen. Tired of being viewed as the shackle around Jack’s wrist. Just tired.

“No need,” you muttered noncommittally, saw the way Jack’s face twisted with concern and confusion and everything you didn’t want to see. “It’s your dinner, J. With my grandma driving, I’ll get home safe.”

The attempt at a joke didn’t land. Smile didn’t even begin to twitch his lips. “It’s dark outside,” he stated, an obvious fact that held no weight for anyone but you and him. “I always drive you when it’s dark.”

That was true enough; your inability to see properly at night meant Jack became your chauffeur, not that he ever complained—even still, it was another thing he did for you, time sacrificed to accommodate you. Prepared to leave his own dinner, his own girlfriend, just to make sure you didn’t have to do something you were uncomfortable with. Conceptually, it was sweet, a sort of gesture that would’ve normally made your heart soar. Now? It made you feel like a burden, an incapable little girl still hiding in the shadow of her protector, afraid of the sting of daylight.

No more.

“I’m going to be fine,” you reassured. Jack didn’t appear convinced—he never was satisfied when it came to you, to your safety, unless he was directly involved. “Stay and have fun.”

“What if—”

“Let her go, babe.”

Brooke’s voice proved the nail in the coffin; a part of you heard the undertone of excitement shot through her words, the possibility of your leave alleviating any annoyance your presence had brought. Without you, Jack’s attention would be fully on her. Without you, he wouldn’t have to concern himself on whether you were having fun and if you were okay.

You. You. You.

You’d considered yourself Jack’s anchor, the grounding of his mind—unfortunately, you’d forgotten an anchor also keeps a thing in place, forcing inactivity.

Let her go.

It rang like a death knell, struck sharp as a poisoned dart, invisible but so unmistakably fatal.

Gathering what remained of your dignity, you grabbed your purse off of your—Bianca’s—chair, caught the commiseration shining in Luke’s eyes like a tarnished trophy. It only stung, reminded you that you needed pity.

Before you could flee the room like a scolded dog, Jack caught your wrist. Heat bloomed, a fever rushing to your head—his simple touch made you sick with want and need and something deeper that would never be realized or fostered. Something you had to let die.

“Text me when you’re home,” he said softly. Fingers gently squeezed your wrist. Where once you’d feel comforted, you just felt trapped. “Please.”

Not trusting your words, all you did was nod.

Honestly, you’d expected some dark cloud to cover you when finally you decided to move on. A procession of funeral goers flocking like crows, unable to understand why you’d abandoned a years-long friendship over something insignificant. Over words spewed from hateful lips.

But it wasn’t what you’d overheard. Deeper, a more sharp knowledge that even if Jack loved you, held you closer than anyone in his circle of friends, he’d never want you in the way you desired. And for a while, that was okay. Because he existed separate of everything—and then came Brooke, and it all crumbled.

You could handle him not loving you. You couldn’t, however, handle him loving someone else so openly.

Street lights blurred behind tears, a mess of streaky lights like a watercolor canvas. Flashes of nights when Jack would drive you home, insisting on taking the wheel so that you didn’t have to toe out of your comfort zone, they haunted you like a inescapable film reel on repeat in your mind. Memories fogged by lost youth, angry words from Jack’s lips as he’d stand up for you—never a party person, denounced for draining the fun. Jack never let those insults slip lip before he was barking at whoever said it.

A responsibility. A burden. The lines had become blurred in recent years.

The latter seemed more fitting.

Through a barrier of tears, you were able to send Jack a text as your car rolled to a stop in the parking lot.

me

at my dorm

j :)

ok good. u ok? u seemed off @ dinner

Fingers hovered over your screen. Make movements to draft a text. Nothing seemed sufficient.

You let the text stale. Sit stagnant on your phone. Jack would likely worry, eventually call—you just wanted to fall into a void and never return. Not after the mess you’d made of dinner.

The mess you’d made of your life.

Making a ghost of yourself was far more difficult than you’d thought it would be.

Incessantly, Jack had texted you, called you—you didn’t answer any of them. Silence felt a balm to your shame. Selfish, you knew, to just ghost Jack without offering any explanation, but nothing would be sufficient, not without souring the connection you were hoping would die without pain.

Cowardice, craven, pathetic—you knew you were all of it. To you, you were giving Jack a chance to pull back, to fizzle the friendship of his own accord. Maybe then it would’ve stung less, if the desire of its end was reciprocated, mutual. As it were, it was not.

Even with your withdrawal, Jack still tried. Shot texts, called and punctuated them with voicemails, sent you TikToks and Snaps and everything he would normally do if everything was fine; but it wasn’t. And you knew he knew, could sense the urgency in his attempts at communication.

You felt dirty, filthy with shame and guilt.

Despite your best efforts, you didn’t appear as unaffected as you hoped. While your insides were shredding themselves, you tried valiantly to paint over your visage with the normal happy-go-lucky smile you always wore. Most people, if they noticed, didn’t comment on it.

Unfortunately, Kaylen did notice.

Since your freshman year of college, Kaylen had been your roommate—low maintenance, intelligent to the point of making you stupid without even trying. As such, she was far more perceptive than you gave her credit for.

There’d been times you confided in her about your feeling for Jack, sought out advice that never seemed good enough. Because no one but yourself could fix the valley that had split between Jack and you. You could seek outward help all you wanted, but nothing would change unless you did something—and, really, you weren’t sure that was even a good idea anymore.

Two days of moping resulted in Kaylen’s intervention.

“Get up.”

Sunlight bled through your shut eyes, forced a wince. Hands rolled you onto your back, the somewhat stiff mattress of your bed providing a measly cushion. Sleep intruded on, your hands extended, attempted to push away the figure you knew what trying to rile you.

“Go away,” you grunted, throat thickened by sleep and other terrible emotions.

“No,” Kaylen hissed. When finally you opened your eyes, her squinted expression invaded your vision. “Look, I’ve let you be miserable for two days, but it’s getting ridiculous. What the hell happened with you and loverboy?”

A jolt nearly paused your heart mid-beat. Thinking about Jack stung in a way you didn’t like to admit, mainly due to the fact that it was painfully embarrassing that he had such a control over you.

“Don’t call him that,” you muttered, bit your tongue to stop anything else from spilling out.

Kaylen’s eyebrows quirked. “So it is about him?”

Nails scraped your lungs. “No—yes—fuck,” you moaned, sitting up and balancing your forehead on bent knees. “It’s… all fucked up, K. I don’t know what to do.”

A sigh left her lips. You felt the bed dip as she climbed beside you. “I can help if you tell me.”

And so you did, started at the beginning of dinner to the end, as you left like a dog defeating in a cage match, heart crying blood. Comforting circles were rubbed into your thigh, but all they did was remind you how Jack used to trace shapes onto your leg, or arm, or back—how he touched you, just to know you were there, with him. He said it placated him.

It was shameful, how bile teased your throat even imagining it.

Rationally, you knew everything was your doing. Loving Jack, torturing yourself by being in his presence whilst he focused his attention on his girlfriend. Expecting any semblance of affection or intimacy even as another held his heart, branded her name over your own. It was always going to happen—knowing that didn’t make it hurt any less.

When finally you finished, the conclusion of your mournful, self-pitying tale followed by the sting of unwanted tears, Kaylen’s thoughtful silence waned. Her lips pursed, fingers twitching. You expected her to berate you; what had you expected, stupid girl? He has a girlfriend!

Instead, Kaylen hugged you. “Shit, babe, I’m sorry,” she murmured, pulled back with that pitiful smile you’d seen one too many times—one you’d be fine with if you never saw again. “He cares about you—”

“Not how I care about him, though,” you finished, and Kaylen gave a weak nod.

“I mean, if you told him what Brooke and her little bitch of a friend said, I’m sure he’d leave her. He’s done more for less.” That much was true. Regardless of whose lips it came from, Jack didn’t tolerate disrespect towards you—cut long time friends off for assuming they had any authority to speak poorly of you.

And you knew—knew with the same certainty that you knew your own name—that Jack would break up with Brooke if he knew how she’d spoken of you.

That should’ve made you giddy. Bursted bright light in your chest at the prospect of having Jack to yourself once more. Instead, it made you feel heavy, sand packed into your bones. Who were you to invade his happiness? If he’d chosen Brooke, so be it.

Sure, she’d disparaged you, but Jack’s life wasn’t yours to dictate anymore. If he wanted Brooke, he’d have her, until he decided to leave—not because you decided for him.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Eyelids heavy, the residue of late-night tears remaining on the skin, you felt the fight leave you. Kaylen frowned. “I just want it all to be over.”

She didn’t look convinced. “Seriously? You’re giving up on an eight year friendship because of something some dickface said about you? I thought Jack meant more to you than that.”

Kaylen’s words stung. Made you defensive, because she was right—you were giving up and you did care about Jack, but the pain had become too much. “It’s not—it’s harder to explain than that. He’s outgrown me, K. Everyone can see it but him. I’m an obligation, a burden, and yeah, maybe he loves me as a friend and maybe he wants me around, but his friends never have—his fucking girlfriend doesn’t. And at this point, I just want it to end, I want him to be happy without the conditions of making me happy.”

Silence followed. Contemplation showed clear on Kaylen’s face. You could tell, even without her words, that she didn’t agree—but, she didn’t comment on that. Rather, she placed a hand on your leg and squeezed.

Just like Jack always did.

“It’s your life, babe,” she conceded. “And if you want to do this, I’m not going to stop you—but you have to be content with it.” She gestured to you, the nest of blankets and red-rimmed eyes. “Because this? This isn’t happiness over a good choice. You’re miserable without him, and it’s been barely two days. Think about what you’re doing before it’s irreversible.”

With that, Kaylen got up and went to her own bed, and neither of you made comment of it for the rest of the day.

Her words came again and again like a fractured turntable. Of course you were miserable—Jack had been a constant in your life for eight years, consistently preserving your peace, including you when you’d never felt more like an outsider. Happiness was synonymous with Jack, his smile, his presence, him.

Did you regret your decision? Yes, and no. You regretted the way you’d gone about it. The petty silence, ignoring a person who’d made your younger years bearable. Your friendship deserved a better death than that, a reason rather than just… fading from existence, as if it never mattered in the first place.

That wasn’t the message you wanted conveyed, and so with fingers unsteadied by aftershocks, you texted Jack.

You weren’t sure how you’d explain, if you could tiptoe around the actual reason. Maybe you couldn’t, and maybe that was okay.

me

i’m so sorry for everything. i’ll explain in person. can we meet up?

Your response came half a second later. As if he were waiting. That selfish part of you prayed he had been.

j :)

ofc. my place tn?

me

yeah. that’s good. brooke won’t be upset?

Asking after her made you want to puke, but you knew it was necessary—she didn’t like Jack even breathing near you, having an entire sit down conversation with him was certainly out of the question.

Thrice, the little text bubble appeared and disappeared on your phone screen. You could sense the apprehension without any background knowledge.

j :)

not a problem. we broke up.

It was shameful, the backwards type of pleasure that brought you.

Maybe you were a terrible person. A terrible friend. You tried to reason that it wasn’t wrong to love someone, to wish they were yours.

me

shit j. i’m sorry

j :)

i’m not. i’ll see u tn. 7:30 work? have dinner w the guys.

me

yeah, that’s fine. see you soon, j.

j :)

be safe. i’ll text you when i’m home.

The hard part wasn’t even over, and your heart was already breaking in two.

Sweat beaded at your palms, the cold claws of apprehension raking down your spine. Countless times you’d been stood here, facing the lifeless beige of Jack’s apartment door. This time, however, you stood here knowing it was the last time. A silent farewell to familiarity, the ties finally cut. Jack would fight, you would cry, and maybe he’d be able to change your mind—it seemed such an unlikely outcome that it calcified every inhale in your throat.

Shaking hands rapped the wooden door, where behind would come the execution of a friendship you’d held like a crutch for years upon years. Your childhood had died, and maybe it would’ve been better had it been left there as well, so as to spare you this heart-rending pain.

Even still, you wouldn’t have traded those years for the world—everything they taught you, through pain and happiness. It made you who you were, brought you to his doorstep with melancholy eyes and a failing heart.

Footsteps echoed on the other side of the door, urgent in a way that picked up your heart rate. The next moments you imagined with brutal clarity—Jack’s hopeful gaze, blue in a way no one else’s ever had been, the soft slope of his nose you teased him for, scrunched whenever he was particularly concerned. How he’d usher you in, hear your words, plead for a moment to explain, and then admit his love for you.

That was how you dreamt it. Unsurprisingly, it was not how it went.

Instead of the door opening to reveal the man you’d love for a lifetime, the squealing hinges were followed by a face that nearly knocked you backwards. Previous indifference smeared into flat-out disdain as Brooke’s eyes caught your figure, engulfed in one of Jack’s faded hoodies and likely disheveled in a way she’d never experienced herself.

Arrows punctured your lungs, sole your breath and defaulted your barely beating heart. Brooke was here. At Jack’s apartment. After they’d supposedly broken up. Had he lied? Was he tricking you, making you the fool? He never would, you knew that, but your wounded mind spun falsities to perpetuate your pain, as if punishment for trusting him in the first place.

“What do you want?” Brooke grunted, leant against the doorframe. Lips twitched into a smirk, the smile of the victorious.

You’d never considered yourself a violent person, but the urge to punch her in the teeth itched your fists. “Is Jack here?”

Her face fell. Something dark flashed in her face—she hesitated a moment, tossed a look over her shoulder. “Yes.”

The curt response was better than nothing, you supposed. “Right, well, can you tell—”

Brooke ran a hand through her hair. Adjusted the clasp of her necklace. “We were kind of in the middle of something. Come back later?”

The axe struck down.

Gravel filled your throat. Suffocated you. If Brooke knew the affect of her words, for once it didn’t show on her face. Years of life had taught you many things, drug you through agonies you wouldn’t relive for anything, yet somehow, this was the worst pain.

To be betrayed, trust snapped by a single action, it stung. Wormed venom in your veins and contaminated your bloodstream, poisoning your heart. Realistically, Jack hadn’t actually done anything wrong. He was allowed to hook up with other girls, to love them—he had, for years.

That wasn’t the issue.

No, it was the fact that he’d set a time, invited you over, and somehow forgot? Or had he set it all up, just to rub it in your face, get his lick-back for your prolonged silence towards him? Either way, it hurt, hurt like a bitch.

Made stone, all you did for a moment was blink at Brooke before a voice called from the background, “Who is it?”

Jack.

Fright found you then, broke away your shell of stone. You couldn’t let him see you, the dog wishing once more to come in from the cold. If he’d planned it, and saw you, he knew he’d won. If he hadn’t planned it, then he realized that—irrecoverably—he fucked up. Both choices felt like a criminal trial you didn’t want any part of.

“I—um—have a good night,” you rushed out, feet stumbling over themselves as you practically ran away from Jack’s door.

So much for closure.

So much for being broken up.

Maybe this was your sign. The one you needed to finally pull away.

Because Jack Hughes didn’t love you. Not past platonic soulmates—a relationship stained with past memories, ones that made both of you incapable of letting go, even as you outgrew it.

You were done being second best. Done trying to squeeze into a place you didn’t fit anymore.

If Brooke was Jack’s choice, so be it. You didn’t want any part of it anymore.

[churipu]

( OO1 ) ★ unwarranted assumptions , sukuna ryomen

featuring. sukuna ryomen x reader

warnings. cursing, college! au, sukuna and yuuji are twin brothers here lol, sukuna might be a lil ooc here (he's in love, he just doesn't know it pls spare him omg). // wc: 3.5k

ENTRY ( OO1 ) OF THE "INTO THE IPINVERSE" MILESTONE

"how do i know if i'm in love with someone?" "you want to kill everyone who gets near them." "oh, shit."

tag: @rrairey milov, ily for participating in this mwah mwah, @sad-darksoul, @sweeneyblue1 , @idkuluka, @colorful-happy-shit

sukuna and yuuji were quite the opposite. the only thing they share is their looks, and their love for basketball. that's about it. on one hand, we have itadori yuuji—the younger twin— who has a passion for basketball, is the campus' sunshine, and is always friendly to practically everyone.

on the other hand, we have sukuna ryomen—the older twin, just by twelve minutes— who also has a passion for basketball, is "considered" as one of the campus' scariest person, and is never friendly to everyone.

the two however, stuck to each other like glue. walking around campus with one another, like two peas in a pod, they did everything together. it's no longer an odd sight to see them both together — it is pretty weird if one is here, and the other is there.

despite their contrasts in personalities, the two were popular. being star athletes, constantly winning trophies for the campus, and climbing up in fame. hell, even people from different campus would drop by just to meet the two at times, it's funny.

"hey, great job on the match, yuuji."

then there was you. a friend of yuuji — the two of you met during the first semester, and have been good friends since then. however, you never really talked to sukuna. the only thing you both have exchanged were short greetings, and eye-contacts.

you had a cinch that the older twin doesn't particularly like you; but that was just your assumption. you didn't know the truth. this sole assumption was the only thing that made you cease contact with the male. in all honesty, you find him rather . . . well, intimidating. the aura he sets off was just, unsettling. so you just assumed that sukuna doesn't like you.

sukuna finds you rather, amusing. how you would only congratulate his younger brother, and not him as well despite him being next to his brother. how you would throw your gaze away the moment your eyes met his. how you would bow your head down a bit whenever you both exchanged greetings. he didn't understand why you were so intent on doing all that stuff, and so he assumed that you weren't fond of him.

the male wanted to question it, but really — it would be weird for him, and for you. so he never actually done it.

see? assumptions are such fucking party-poopers. i mean, if only the two of you had come to both of your senses and just talked instead of assuming things about one another, where you think sukuna hates you, and sukuna thinks you hated him.

"why do they do that?" sukuna finds himself asking his brother, yuuji. elbow nudging yuuji's arm lightly.

"i need names." yuuji replied back before averting his gaze to the side, watching his twin brother staring at something— or someone intently. yuuji looks over to what sukuna was so focused on, smirking lightly when he saw you in his own vision, "are y'talking about y/n?"

sukuna lightly grunted, leaning back onto the chair rest. his eyes finally ripping away from you, who was currently throwing laughs and giggles amongst your friend group.

"yeah, them. why'd they do that?" sukuna parrots.

"do what, exactly?" yuuji retorts back, leaning his cheek onto the palm of his hand, sighing out in triumph; trying to figure out where this conversation will go.

"avoid me, but not you." yuuji pops a small smile, lightly elbowing his brother's side, "what?"

"do y'like them?"

like? sukuna didn't like you. he just finds your attitude towards him amusing, and . . . maybe you confuse him a bit at the difference on how you treat yuuji and him. but sukuna would never say that to his brother, he'd never hear the end of it, he just knows it.

"like? psh, you've gotta be kidding me. i was just fucking curious about their behavior, you brat." he pushed yuuji away lightly before burying his face into his arms, heaving out a loud sigh.

yuuji chuckles, "brat? you're only twelve minutes older than i am," he sings out in a teasing manner.

sukuna swore he just finds you amusing. at first.

so why does it pisses him off that you ran to his brother's side after a match and handed him a bottle of energy drink, and not him. murmuring out strings of curses, he felt like an absolute buffoon, standing beside yuuji — drenched in sweat, using the hem of his jersey to wipe the dribbling sweat.

while yuuji had all the glory. getting a small cute, teddy bear motive handkerchief from you, an energy drink, and a congratu-fucking-lations.

"yeah — that buzzer beater was totally amazing, yuuji. congrats on winning again! not that i've ever doubt you or the rest," you complimented, and hearing 'the rest' coming out of your mouth, for some reason; pisses sukuna off even more.

the older twin swerved his shoes on the court's floor, letting his soles let out a screech as it rubbed against the shiny surface of the floor. earning both yours and yuuji's attention.

"y'alright?" yuuji asks, popping open the bottle cap of the energy drink from you. and the sight made sukuna ball his fists in annoyance — god, he didn't even know why he was feeling like such.

"yeah. 'm gonna head to change," sukuna mutters out, hesitantly turning away to leave.

and the moment he turns his body away, sukuna could hear the vivid voices of both you and yuuji exchanging goodbyes. and before he knew it, yuuji was walking alongside him, "are you really okay? you look like you need to let out a fuse."

sukuna answered with a soft hum, his eyes narrowing as he continued on walking to the locker room. still angry, frustrated, and annoyed all at once.

"y/n told me to tell you congrats, by the way."

sukuna peered over the locker's door and arched a brow, "why couldn't they tell me that themselves, hm?" yuuji chuckles, finding his brother's behavior funny; because when else was yuuji going to see sukuna act like this?

like a love struck puppy, who doesn't know they're in love.

"who knows?" yuuji shrugs, grabbing the hem of his jersey and ripping it off his body — breathing out loudly, using the handkerchief you gave him to dab the sweat on his face.

sukuna eyed his brother, squinting his eyes lightly before doing the same action, minus the handkerchief. while he was doing so, a thought passed his mind.

"how do i know if i'm in love with someone?" yuuji instantly knew who the person sukuna was talking about, but prompted to say nothing about it and just play along.

yuuji pretended to give the question a deep thought before eventually answering, "you want to kill everyone who gets near them."

sukuna stared at his brother for a short while, muttering out a subtle, "oh, shit."

the reaction was enough for yuuji to made his own conclusion, "you like y/n don't you? which explains why you're in such a shitty mood, since they only paid attention to me—"

"okay, shut the fuck up." sukuna blurted out, "so what if i fucking do, huh? it's not like they'd like me back anyways."

sukuna shuts the locker, the loud bang resounding in the almost empty locker room. yuuji broke out into a loud laugh, "there y'go, making assumptions here and there, it's not like you both have ever talked in a normal conversation before anyways. how do you know they don't like you?"

good point.

"what are you going to do without me?" yuuji sighs out exasperatedly, the younger twin approached his brother, sliding the partly (sweat) damp handkerchief into sukuna's grasp, "return this to them for me, and who knows — maybe you'll be able to make a more positive assumption or two after."

sukuna wondered why he was standing in front of you, his hand shoved out, in between his index finger and middle finger was the same handkerchief yuuji had told him to give back to you.

"the brat wants me to give this back to you." he grunted out, his voice deep and unfriendly.

you stood in front of him, blinking rapidly; not knowing of what to say, should you start off with a greeting? or just tell him thank you? or maybe congratulate him for the match?

and so you decided to do all three, in a random order.

"thank you for your win, congratulations, hi." oh, god. the moment he stared at you in plain confusion — or maybe despise, you just wanted to crawl under the ground and die right there and then.

". . . thanks." he slowly murmurs back, waiting for you to grab your small fabric from his fingers, but you never did, "are you gonna take this or what?"

sukuna wanted to punch himself on the face after you flinched at the tone of his voice, your fingers frantically ripping away the fabric from his touch, mumbling out apologies. he didn't mean for his voice to come out that harsh.

the male wasted no more time in turning his heels to walk away, noticing your tense form; instead of a more positive assumption, his assumption worsened from you hating him, to you hating and being scared of him.

". . . bye." he mutters out, walking away with long strides to go find yuuji.

and when he did, sukuna just wanted to use his younger brother as a punching bag. hell, he didn't know why he was so angry at yuuji, and himself. heavy on himself, though.

"woah, what's up with you?" yuuji pushes his brother away lightly, "how did it go? did you guys like . . . at least exchanged phone numbers or not?"

sukuna shook his head, "think they're scared of me." he mutters out, throwing his head back, stressed out.

"is that your assumption again?" sukuna didn't answer him, which confirmed the question. the younger one heaves out a loud sigh that attracted an odd look—more like a glare—from sukuna.

"i wan' to sock your face in so bad," he mutters out condescendingly, eyes boring into yuuji's face; which in a way intimidated the younger twin, of course.

with a nervous smile, yuuji raises both of his hands up in defense, "chill, 'm gonna give you their phone number, maybe y'should ask them out or something."

see, the thing is that sukuna hated texting— in a way, it's like leaving footprints everywhere. he hated all that stuff. call him old fashioned, but you know he has a pretty good point. so he refused blatantly, "no, jus' leave it to me, i'll think of something."

the gods are on his side.

"i guess, we're partners?" you asked him meekly, slipping into yuuji's empty seat since the younger one was away with his assigned partner on the other side of the lecture hall.

sukuna hums, not knowing what else to say. his eyes followed your figure as you dropped a binder on top of the table, though— one thing particularly caught his eyes. the strip of photo that was tucked beneath the binder's transparent cover, he recognized you, your two other friends, and yuuji.

why the hell was his brother there? the male had one of his eyes closed, and a toothy grin; showing off his pearly whites while his fingers are formed into a peace sign. his cheek leaning onto the side of your head.

indubitably silenced, you averted your gaze to his face slightly. seeing that his attention was on your binder, you awkwardly shifted the book away— and sukuna came into his senses, now looking onto the surface of the table.

"uh . . . should we get started then?" you proposed, and he gave out a subtle nod.

the passing half an hour was just plain awkward. awkward is an understatement, you wanted to just walk out on him— but that would be rude. plus, he's actually doing his share of work, and you did yours. only conversing when you both needed opinions on each other's results.

"so," sukuna started, breaking the silence that seemed like had been going on for like . . . forever.

"you like my brother?"

you slowly tilted your head to look at him, blinking your eyes feverishly, "what—? god, no. what? where did that even come from?" sukuna felt the knot in his stomach unknot, a little relieved to hear your answer.

"just askin', since you're both so close." he shrugs, not even sparing you a glance.

"you're assuming." you found yourself chuckling, "jus' because we're close, doesn't mean i like yuuji— i think of him more of a . . . brother figure," you informed sukuna.

"oh." he resounds, "since we're twins, y'think of me as a brother too or is that exclusive for my twin?" sukuna questions, his tone laced with mischief.

rolling your eyes, you answered him in the same joking manner, "exclusive for your twin, not like we ever talked before, y'know?" oh. right, that did shut sukuna up, his silence killing the conversation almost immediately.

his silence domineered over you. it was like he was planning to do something to you right this very moment, until your lecturer calls out that the session was finished (and how the project should be submitted next week during his session).

saved by the lecturer.

"uh . . . well, should we continue this next time then?" you asked him, packing your stationary.

"yeah, sure."

" . . . if you don't mind, can i have your number? for project purposes," jackpot. sukuna took the chance and nodded, using his pen to swiftly write his digits on your binder, "thanks, i'll text you later. bye, sukuna."

once you left his sight, yuuji pops in. grinning efficiently, "i saw that, this must be fate, i can just feel it."

"you believe in that shit? we're just gonna talk about the project." sukuna retorts back, packing his own belongings before swinging his bag strap over his shoulder.

"oh come on, you're smiling. at least your body's honest," yuuji teases, earning an up right smack to the back of his head, "if they ask where you should do the project — say our house."

absolutely not. sukuna thought.

yet here you were, sitting on the floor of his room, scribbling away on a piece of paper as he sat across from you — glancing up from his own paper from time to time, taking a swift look at your focused face before returning to his own.

sukuna couldn't focus at all. he wanted to, really. but he was alone with you in his room, this was a chance for him; to get to know you. he had so much to say, but he didn't know where to start.

yuuji, earlier in the day had even gone out to give him a list of questions to ask you so you both could have a better relationship. sukuna didn't think it was needed, since well, it is sukuna. why would he need a list for?

on the other side, you too, were dying to say something. but the permanent scowl on sukuna's face made you falter even before you could take a whiff of him.

a knock to sukuna's door was all it took for the both of you to stop scribbling, finally taking a good look of each other. and the door swung open, revealing yuuji with a white shirt and a yellow jacket on, he was holding a plate of what seemed to be chocolate chip cookies, "so— how's your project holding up?"

sukuna shrugs, "i guess, it's fine."

yuuji slid the plate on top of the wooden table, grinning lightly, "you guys getting along just fine?" he questions, squatting down.

you nodded, "we're okay."

okay? okay??? well, in a way you and sukuna are both fine. but sukuna didn't feel fine, "guess so."

the dopey smile you had on the moment yuuji entered his room made sukuna think that you didn't feel comfortable enough to be in the same room as he is, alone. and honestly, just the thought of it made his stomach churn in agony — because, why must it be his own brother that he's jealous of?

"well, i gotta go. dig in the cookies, g'luck on the project you guys," yuuji smacked sukuna's back harshly before trotting away to leave the room, mutely shutting the door.

you grabbed a piece of cookie, taking a crunchy bite out of it. marveling in delight.

"are you scared of me?"

sukuna needed to stop with the sudden questions that made your heart leap at least three miles away. widening your eyes a bit, you arched both of your brows, "wha . . . t?"

you stopped chewing altogether, eyeing the male across from you like he's crazy. i mean — if you were to be honest, you were partially intimidated by him and the aura he's giving out.

"i asked if you're scared of me," sukuna repeats, laying his pen down onto the table as he intertwined his fingers together, waiting for an answer.

you nodded, "truthfully, you're intimidating."

oh.

sukuna expected that answer, but why did it actually made his heart throb? as in — the person he likes is actually scared of him, and it broke a little part of him. however, he still has a scowl on his face and his expression unchanged.

"you have this big scowl every time i go around yuuji, and it intimidates me. so i just assumed that you hated me," sukuna blinked, brows furrowing slowly; the creases in between his brows deepening by the passing second.

"what? i assumed that you hated me." he replied, emphasizing on the 'me'. and this time you furrowed your brows, swallowing the bite of cookie you took before and wiping the crumbs off the corner of your lips in confusion.

"what? no, i don't. what? why would you even assume that?" you questioned him, now dropping your own pen onto the table, completely disregarding the project.

"why would i not? y'keep avoiding me like i'm a bad person, so i just assumed that you hated me." sukuna replies.

"i thought you hated me, because you look like you want to kill me every single time, so i just never talked to you, it was pretty scary." you retorted back, shaking your head, the cookie was now a decoration in between your fingers.

sukuna can't help but to chuckle, "so it was jus' our shitty assumptions?"

you hummed, "i guess so."

to say the least, sukuna felt like he was breathing again. yuuji was definitely right about all these assumption things — and he kept in mind that he'd praise the younger twin later (maybe). the sight of you eating a cookie in front of him made him feel a little overwhelmed, now that he got all the hard part done. he felt like he could talk with you now.

"then . . . can i get to know ya'?"

you narrowed your eyes at him, "really? no strings attached?" he raised both of his hands up in defense, shaking his head lightly, "why do you look like you want to kill me every single time then? are you plotting my murder? is this a trick?"

your questions made him pop out a light smirk, "so what if i am, huh?" he teased.

rolling your eyes, you shoved a hand out to him, "since we didn't start off in the right path, why don't we start over? i feel like this is the only appropriate way."

sukuna raised his hand up to engulf yours in his, feeling a light tingle in his chest as you squeezed his hand lightly, "i'm y/n l/n, just call me y/n. cool?"

the male scoffs, "cool. sukuna ryomen, it's only fair if you get to call me by my first name too, so . . . call me ryomen."

"ryo for short. that's your name now," sukuna arched a brow with an amused smile, nodding his head. internally doing a victory dance in his mind as he just got a nickname from you — and yuuji is just 'yuuji'.

a win for him today.

"you're a little smiley today, did something happen between y/n and you earlier?" yuuji asks, pressing the pause button on his controller to face his brother who was laying down on the couch, the corner of his lips tugged upwards.

"i'm ryo now."

"ryo as in ryomen? i mean — that's your name, so? what are you implying?" sukuna stared at yuuji with a lighthearted smile. yuuji is somehow smart to catch up with these kind of things that it sometimes baffles sukuna, "oh, i get it. so, now you both are on first name basis?"

not even first name basis. this is a nickname that they gave me. sukuna sings in his mind, breathing out in content.

"it's a nickname. they gave it to me," yuuji cooed loudly, tossing his controller aside, "y'know . . . i was assuming they didn't like me, and they assumed it was the other way. they assumed i hated them because apparently i looked like i wanted to kill them?"

yuuji pointed his finger accusingly, "see? i was right!"

sukuna rolled his eyes, "that's the first time y'have ever been right, don't get ahead of yourself."

"so — when are you planning to confess to them, hm?"

a light kick to yuuji's side was enough to send him toppling over the couch, whining out in pain, "we just became friends, and y'think i should confess? that can wait," sukuna mumbles out.

sukuna was just delighted that his assumptions were unwarranted.

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[animehideout]

Hello!! can you do a gojo x reader and like gojo is always on a lot of trips to kill curses and stuff and everytime he comes back home all he wants to do is just sleep with you and it starts making you think he only wants you for your body but she just keeps that thought to herself cuz she thought if she tells gojo he might end their relationship untill something happens and she finally breaks down leaving gojo to comfort her

Please and thank you!

My One And Only

Gojo Satoru x Fem! Reader ( Reader thinks Gojo is using her for her body )

a/n: thank you anon for this request, I really hope you enjoy this one. And remember guys, don't bottle up your feelings, talk it out , communication is the key <33 love y'all and stay safe.

Warnings 🔞: SMUT NSFW MDNI / NOT PROOFREAD.

Song recommendation: I'll Be Good - Jaymes Young 🎶

♪I never meant to start a fire, I never meant to make you bleed.. I'll be a better man today♪

You sat on your bed, clutching your phone tightly after reading a message from your boyfriend, Gojo Satoru: { Get ready for me, princess. I can't wait till I get home and have you all to myself, all night }.

The words, the familiar message, never seemed to change. While you longed for a more thoughtful, romantic message, disappointment crept in every time you unlocked your phone. You understand his busy schedule and duty as the strongest sorcerer, exorcising curses and protecting others, but what about your feelings? Who protects them?

He's often away on trips, since the higher-ups depend on him for everything. You've always taken pride in his skills and capabilities, that earned the trust of others, making the world feel safer with his presence. But, your bed remains cold, your house feels empty, and he's not physically present when you're sad, need to vent, or simply want to share a laugh. The persistent feeling of loneliness creeps in, filling your mind with unwanted thoughts. Each night concludes with a heavy sigh, as you find solace in cuddling your pillow, questioning the nature of your relationship with him.

You meet once a week, you'd eagerly set the scene for cozy moments ; snuggling, watching a movie, going on a date, or simply chilling and talking. Yet, it always veers into having sex. You love him and want him as much as he wants you but you can't help the disappointment you've felt

“Is he using me?”,

the same thought echoes in your mind week after week. You wanted to communicate your feelings, but the words linger unspoken at the tip of your tongue, always swallowed back, completely offering yourself to him.

Night fell swiftly, the clock ticked so fast, and there you were sat on your bed, half naked, waiting like he told you. You could have refused, but you simply didn't. you missed him and craved the way he touches you, the way he makes you scream his name, the way your eyes tear up from how good and deep he's pounding inside you. The way air gets stuck in your throat when his big veiny hands circle around your delicate neck. You wanted every bit of it, there's no denying in that.

The front door swung open and closed, signaling Satoru's arrival. Your heart quickened, anticipation the long night that waited ahead

“Hey, baby..” he began,

placing his keys on the nightstand and giving you a peck. You managed a weak smile.

“Did you miss me?” he added, stripping himself. “Come on, join me for a shower and help me wash up”.

He gently pulled you towards the bathroom.Your back was pressed to his chest, as he left a trail of kisses on your shoulders and the back of your neck. The warm water relaxing each tensed muscle. You closed your eyes enjoying the sensation. The steam raising from the shower, created a gentle fog turning the bathroom into a cozy space. Too emersed into the cute moments of peace,

“Maybe tonight will be different, maybe he'll stay and won't leave after sex like he always does, saying that he needs to be at work again” you thought to yourself,

hoping that this night, he proves all what you've been overthinking for the last weeks in wrong, but shorty you were pressed against the bathroom wall, warm water still running. A surprised gasp left your mouth at the sudden movement. The cold wall that Gojo pinned you against sent shivers down your spine.

“I can't wait any longer” he whispered to your ear. He turned you and now you're chest hitting the wall, “bend over a bit for me, babygirl” he demanded, growing impatient by each passing second.

A groan escaped his mouth when your tighteness welcomed his hardened cock. A soft moan, slipped from your parted lips as he started moving. The rhythmic sound of water droplets echoed and mixed with the wet clapping sounds, and your moans. Your eyes rolled back, too needy for him as he fucked that spot again and again,

“I fucking love fucking you, I love fucking your body, this pussy is all what I can think about” he said panting.

Little did he know that what he said but turn you off so quickly. Your body, is it all what he wants? he didn't even say 'I love you', his sweet talk was all about what satisfied him, but enough,

“Can you stop please” you said out of the blue, making him look in confusion but kept on going,

“already tired? I've planned a long night for us..but if you want me to stop use your safe word” he chuckled.

“I SAID STOP” you snapped.

Under different circumstances, you'd find joy in his words. However, with all those unspoken emotions weighing on you, hearing him say something like that became your breaking point. He stood still, a hint of concern in his voice as he asked,

“D-did I do something wrong?” His hands rested on your hips from behind.

In that quiet moment, only the sound of the water stream filled the air before you spoke again,

“I don't want to continue, pull it out”.

“Hah is this some kind of joke? why on earth would I stop?”

“Because I don't want to”

“Dont lie to me Y/n, I know you want it, I won't pull out”

“Satoru...please” you said as you moved his hands from your hips.

His brows furrowed as he distanced himself from your body, pulling his length out of you, giving you what you requested. You cleaned yourself and then stepped out of the shower wrapped in your towel, while he observed silently.

Seated on the edge of your bed, you waited for him to join you.He carefully settled beside you, his gaze unwavering on your form.

“So, are you going to tell me why the hell you did that?” he asked, breaking the awkward silence.

Without meeting his eyes, you murmured, “Do you even love me, Satoru?” Your gaze remained fixed on the floor.

“What kind of question is this?”

“Just fucking answer it” you spat out in a harsh tone, catching him off guard.

“I do, of course I love you”

“Haha, funny. Why'd you lie? You just love my body, Satoru, don't you?”

“I love you and I love your body. Can you please explain it to me clearly? Cuz I failed to get your point”

“Oh is that so? okay then I'll explain to you, I'll explain to you how I've been feeling for weeks now, how I'm always left alone, how you always show up once a week, have sex with me and then leave as if I'm your fuck toy, I'll explain how you don't even care, cuz you only care about how to pleasure yourself... I'M NOT YOUR SLUT GOJO SATORU”You yelled.

Caught off guard by you, his blue eyes widened mirroring the disbelief that etched across his face. Your words hung in the air, leaving him momentarily speechless.

“A-are you serious?”

“YES I'M FUCKING SERIOUS, IF YOUR FEELINGS TOWARDS ME FADED THEN JUST SAY IT SATORU, BUT DON'T YOU DARE TO FUCK ME EVER AGAIN”

You broke down into tears, hugging your knees, wet hair falling on your face, chest still heavy even though you let out all of your concerns.

“No, no, don't cry, Y/n. Baby, look at me, please” he said softly, a hint of panic in his deep voice.

His fingers gently lifted your chin, making you meet his gaze. Kissing away your tears, he whispered,

“Don't ever think like this again. I love you, Y/n I always have and always will, and nothing can change that”

“Then why'd you leave? It feels like you throw me away everytime after getting what you wanted from me” you expressed with a quiver in your voice.

“I'm sorry if I made you feel that way. I never meant to hurt you. I was just scared they might harm you, which is why I minimized our dates”

“Who might hurt me?”

“The sorcerers working against me and the special grade curses. I would never forgive myself if something bad happened to you”

“You know I'll be fine. You don't need to overthink it like that. It's not even my point yet—”

“I know, I know, thats it's always us having sex? thinking that I'm taking advantage of your body? Why didn't you tell me earlier baby? We could've talked it out, I could've explained, we could've done something else... It's just that's how I express love to you, through physical intimacy. I thought you liked it, I thought you were enjoying it. That's why I didn't stop. And I'm sorry about that..” he whispered, looking down, visibly disappointed in himself.

Your gaze lingered on him; you believed him, of course, you just needed that reassurance.

“I thought if I told you you'd break up with me and leave–”

His heart ached, how could you possibly think of that when he loved you with each fiber in his body.

“L-leave you? my life is meaningless without you Y/n how could I ever leave you” he explained pain visible in his tone.

You shrugged, sniffling, looking at him with your teary eyes..

“Come here” he signaled for you to move closer.

His large arms enveloped you in a bear hug as you sat on his lap.

“I love you for you, for your personality, your mind, your laugh, for the way you find beauty in everything. I never meant to disappoint you, and it will never happen again. Next time, if something bothers you, just talk it out and don't bottle it up. I want you to be comfortable all the time, okay?” he exclaimed, kissing the top of your head.

You nodded slowly, further burying your head in his bare chest, your warm breath tickling his skin.

“How about we cuddle and watch your favorite movie? I'll take a day off tomorrow so we can spend more time together, and you're right; I shouldn't be overthinking that much. From now on, not gonna minimize any date, instead, I'll work harder on keeping you safe all the time...You're my one and only Y/n!!” he said with a wide smile, lifting your spirits once again.

You spent the night in each other's arm, eating popcorn and pastries, laughing and joking around, till both of you fell asleep... You indeed helped him learn how to treat you better, helped him express his love in other ways, helped him to take into account your feelings. Communication is all what both of you needed from the very beginning.

Satoru made a promise to you and to himself, to devote his life, strength and efforts to you and your relationship.

[amomentsescape]

Wrong Place, Right Time (Part II)

Billy Loomis x Reader

Part I

Summary: Billy decides to see you again and set things straight. He knew he wouldn't be able to stay away for long.

Warnings: Foul language

Word Count: 1,534

A/N: I really enjoyed writing a part II for this, but I think I just really like writing for Billy in general! I hope you all enjoy reading this :)

Billy was out of breath by the time he reached their meeting place. Of course, Stu was already there, awaiting him with the widest grin on his face.

"Don't say a damn thing," Billy spoke harshly.

Stu's smile quickly faded. "What the hell happened?"

Billy shook his head and dropped the Ghostface mask, his now free hand reaching up to his sweaty hair.

"(Y/N) was there. Why didn't you fucking tell me-"

"Woah woah. How the hell was I supposed to know? You asked for a small group, they were a small group. You didn't ask to know who was gonna be there!"

Billy let out a scoff.

A silence soon overcame them as Stu continued to stare at the shorter boy.

"Did you..." Stu started.

"What? Jesus, no. I let (Y/N) run off."

That was mostly true. But his hand still felt warm where he had touched your cheek before he ran off into the night.

"Shit," Stu grumbled. "You weren't supposed to leave anyone alive. Does (Y/N) know it was you?"

Billy shook his head quickly. You've barely spoken to each other in person. There wasn't any way you'd be able to narrow it down to him. You probably didn't even know his name.

"Lets just get out of here. Police are going to be swarming this neighborhood soon."

Stu agreed and the boys walked off, Billy's gut turning over at the thought of you.

----

You didn't show up to school for the next few days. It only made sense after everything that happened, but Billy was still a bit frustrated at your absence.

He missed seeing your little smile in the halls, your quiet laughs being heard in your shared classes.

His own resolve was slowly breaking with Sidney as well. All he could think about was how that small touch of your cheek made him feel so alive.

He tried all this time to stay far away. But now that he gave in, now that he got a small taste of you, there was no way he could restrain himself any longer.

He had to see you again.

So that night after school, he went to your house.

He knew your parents were working late, so it was his perfect chance to sneak in and...

Well, he didn't really think that far ahead. Should he explain himself? Wrap you in his arms and never let go? He wasn't exactly sure. But it was too late to turn back now- he was already outside your window.

You were seated on the couch with a bowl of chips in your lap. You had the TV on, but your eyes weren't focusing on it.

Billy felt a bit of guilt pang in his chest, a feeling he wasn't too familiar with. You looked so... sad? Whatever the emotion was, he didn't like it.

He pulled out his cell and began to call you.

You got up to answer the phone after a few rings, just going through the familiar motions of the night.

"Hello?"

"What are you watching?"

Your breath got caught in your throat at this. You were sure you knew who it was, even though he never spoke to you that night. Something about his presence on the phone was enough to spark that familiarity in you. It had to be him.

After a few moments of silence you finally found your voice. But it was still much more timid than you had hoped.

"Y-you're here to finish the job, aren't you?" you spoke uneasily.

There was another moment of silence.

You heard a sigh come through the phone, only to be followed by the click of him hanging up.

He was coming for you.

You jumped off the couch and ran to the kitchen, hoping to grab a knife or some tool to defend yourself with.

Even though he didn't kill you that night, you had spent all this time wondering if it was because he just wanted to toy with you. Something in your heart wanted to believe that there was more to it, but you didn't want to be hopeful. The fear of dying overruled everything else.

By the time you reached the drawer, you heard the familiar creak of your front door. This caused you to turn towards the entrance, only to be met with the same figure from that night. You had been right.

You turned back to the drawer in front of you and pulled it open, reaching in for a weapon of some kind.

But Ghostface was quick to reach you and pin your back against the counter, both his arms on either side of you.

At that moment, you felt like giving up. He had you pinned against the drawer that would have protected you, and there was no way of wiggling past him. If he was going to kill you, then you supposed that it was just going to have to happen. You wouldn't fight back.

However, the figure only leaned closer to you, his warm body pressing against yours.

You felt your heart rate pick up and your knees go a bit weak. You bit your cheek in frustration at these feelings. You were supposed to be terrified, but here he was acting almost affectionately towards you. This only confused you more.

"If you're going to kill me then just do it."

He stared back at you through his mask, his head beginning to tilt slightly.

You waited a few more moments only for him to not make any movements. You took this opportunity to glance down at his hands, realizing that he wasn't sporting his reputable knife. In fact, he didn't have any weapon in his hands.

You looked back up at his mask confused.

"What do you want then?" you asked softly.

In almost a flash, he reached up and ripped off his mask, his lips slamming to yours so quickly. You didn't even have time to process who he was or what was happening as your hands reached up to his face on instinct.

What the hell was happening?

You wanted to push him away, logically. But God, his lips felt so warm and soft against yours. His scent was too enticing and his hands knew exactly where to hold you. It's like this man was built just for you at this moment, and you decided to just indulge.

Fuck it.

You kissed back just as hard and pushed into him even more. You could feel him suck in a breath at your reciprocation and continue to melt into you. This kiss had to be drugged, you were sure of it.

After a bit, your lips began to slow down as he finally decided it was time to face you. He pulled away slowly as he looked at you, waiting for your reaction.

It took a few moments for you to notice who you were looking at, your body still slightly drunk off his lips.

When you finally recognized who it was, your eyes widened in surprise.

"B-Billy?" you gasped.

He couldn't help the small smile that grew on his face, his shoulders shrugging in response. "Surprise."

You stared back at him in disbelief for a bit, not sure what to do.

But finally the words flew out of your mouth without so much as a second thought.

"You're the Woodsboro killer?"

His smile faded a bit as he peered at you, his breath becoming shaky.

"I didn't know you were going to be there that night," he answered instead.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. "Is that why you didn't kill me?"

He nodded. "I wouldn't have killed them either if I knew they were your friends."

You rolled your eyes at this. "Yeah, friends. I was only there for some stupid group project."

Your eyes widened a bit after you said this. You almost sounded happy that they were gone now. But you were quick to shake off the feeling.

"Are you scared?" Billy asked softly.

Your eyes flicked down to his lips for a moment as you thought back to what had happened just minutes before.

"I don't think so. It seems odd to kiss the person you're about to murder," you laughed slightly.

This brought the smile back to Billy's face. He'd kill for that sound.

"Good."

You considered this whole situation after his response. He's a murderer, but he cares about you.

Your moral compass seemed all fucked up in that moment.

"What happens now?" you questioned.

Billy let out a breath at this. "Whatever you want."

He reached out to your hand.

"Sidney?" you asked.

He rolled his eyes. "I was gonna get rid of her soon."

"Did you even..."

He shook his head quickly. "Only you. It's only been you."

Yeah, that moral compass was completely shattered now.

You leaned in and kissed him again softly. Once you pulled away, you bumped your nose with his, earning a smirk.

"This makes me pretty fucking crazy, doesn't it?" you asked.

"What does?"

"Wanting to be with a serial killer."

Billy's smile widened. "You wanna be with me?"

You shrugged, looking at your joined hands.

"I've always liked slasher flicks."

[pluckyredhead]

Please ship Orion and Lightray with me, thank you

If you've been reading my Fourth World posting, you might have noticed me mentioning Orion and Lightray's relationship. This is because they're in love and I'm obsessed with them. Please join me in grumpy/sunshine-but-they're-alien-demigods hell, with visual references below.

So Orion, as we know, is the son of Darkseid who was raised on New Genesis but has always felt different and monstrous compared to his peers. Lightray is his best friend, who thinks Orion is just the best thing since sliced bread and says so constantly.

This is literally how we're introduced to them, in New Gods #1:

Lightray: Don't be sad. Hug time! Orion: Hugs are not for one such as me. But you're still my best friend. Lightray: Please let me enter your chambers. Orion: NO THEY ARE TOO DARK. Lightray: D:

This panel, from #6, sums up their whole dynamic really well:

Lightray doesn't crave battle the way Orion does but he is determined to stay by his side, while Orion doesn't want Lightray to fight beside him because he thinks Lightray is too good and pure to be tainted by violence.

Zero personal space.

So one of the things about Orion is that his real face is sort of brutish and not traditionally handsome (the eyebrows are WILD), but he uses his Mother Box (like a living pocket computer that loves you) to make himself look more like the people of New Genesis. In #8, he gets into a knock-down, drag-out fight with his half-brother Kalibak that nearly kills them both, and Mother Box can't maintain the illusion (and also his face is, like, pulverized). And then this happens:

I WEEP. LIGHTRAY LOVES YOU JUST THE WAY YOU ARE, ORION.

New Gods was canceled soon after this, but when Kirby returned a decade later, he went all in on the homoerotic devotion. So Orion goes to Apokolips to kill his dad and rescue his mom, and who do you think follows him?

That second panel makes me laugh so hard. "Here, honey, you forgot your Scooty Puff Jr!"

My favorite thing about this is that Lightray is playing dumb. He shot at Orion earlier and then said something vague about missing on purpose...but he didn't:

HE REALLY TRIED TO WOUND ORION ENOUGH TO STOP HIS SUICIDE MISSION. And the way he just shuts his eyes and takes Orion's anger because he doesn't care what happens as long as he saves his friend's life...! (Orion doesn't hurt him, they just touch each other a lot.)

Anyway they argue for multiple pages, with Orion insisting that Lightray go home and Lightray insisting that he stay, until finally:

This is so intensely romantic and also so unintentionally hilarious that I can't stand it. The homoerotic gazing into one another's eyes and then the stupid mutual thumbs up! Whatever is going on with that closeup of Orion in the second panel! I die!

...And you know who else dies? Orion! Or at least he comes very close (it's unclear), but is rescued by a freedom fighter named Himon and nursed back to health by Himon and his daughter Bekka. We get a little romance between Orion and Bekka, but we also get Lightray coming to visit:

That is some FULL CONTACT wrestling, boys. Orion pinning Lightray to the ground while telling him it's good to see him is so much, but the fourth panel is even mucher. My goodness.

And then things get serious, because they both believe they are going to die in the upcoming battle (they don't), so they bid each other farewell and Lightray leaves, and then:

Orion yells after Lightray how smart and funny he is and then collapses in despair because his friend is gone. "HOW LIKE A WANDERING STAR HE SEEMS." Oh my god, Orion.

That's it for Kirby, so I'll move on to other writers and artists, but I want to clear that I'm only sharing the most intense scenes between them. There are so many panels, from Kirby and others, of Lightray faithfully following Orion around, joyously welcoming him back to New Genesis, gently teasing him, and talking about how brave and noble he is. And of Orion only smiling for Lightray, going feral when he gets hurt, and telling him he's too good and pretty for battle. And of the two of them touching each other. A lot.

Literally just two random examples. THEY DO THIS SHIT ALL THE TIME.

The next really big moment comes in New Gods (1995), where the Source (basically God/Heaven) becomes corrupted and Lightray goes evil and Orion has to beat him up to stop him and I will never ever ever recover from these pages:

"You want the beast? Do you like it?" on its own is...hoo boy, SOMETHING. But it is eclipsed by the tremulous "Maybe...maybe if I can just hold him" and Orion gathering Lightray up in his arms while telling him he loves him. LIKE. THIS IS SO MUCH. (P.S. Lightray's fine don't worry. And yes, he does want the beast.)

Then we get to Orion (PLEASE read this comic) and the biggest smile Orion has ever smolt:

Look at how happy he is!!! You need to understand that his mother died in his arms ten minutes ago and he's still like "Lightray! Omg hi!!!" (To be fair, his mother was terrible.) Plus bonus unnecessary touching, Lightray's love language being gifts, and Orion giggling and twirling his hair while going "Omg you're so smart."

(Also, when Lightray mentions his "brief but troubling visit" to Apokolips in the second panel, what's not saying is that he put on a silly disguise and went to see a fortuneteller to try to figure out if Orion's mom was lying about Darkseid not being his real dad (she was; again, she was terrible), and when the fortuneteller is like "You DARE come to Apokolips?!" he goes "I would dare anything for my friend!" I know you would, honey. I know you would.)

The next bit requires some explanation. So, as briefly as possible: Orion kills Darkseid (or so he thinks), takes over Apokolips, and tries very hard to change it for the better. He also accidentally gains possession of the Anti-Life Equation, the formula Darkseid is always searching for that eradicates free will, and gradually is driven to use it to FORCE everyone on Apokolips to be good. And Earth. And New Genesis.

Eventually, Orion is seemingly killed, but actually he's been teleported somewhere unfathomably far away, where he realizes what he's done and sinks into suicidal despair. In the midst of this, he manages to both destroy the Anti-Life Equation AND save all of reality (and nearly die in the process), but he still thinks that because he used the Equation, he's irredeemable and doesn't deserve to exist.

So when he's teleported back to Earth and captured by a human who blinds him and rigs him up to a torture device so that he can drain Orion's life force and use it to be eternally youthful, Orion just...lets it happen. Because he thinks he deserves it. For SEVEN MONTHS.

But eventually he's like "Wait...I deserve this, but probably whatever is being done with my energy is not good and I should stop it." He tries to escape but only manages to let out a single scream.

Luckily, Lightray has been searching for him nonstop for those seven months, despite the face that Orion is supposed to be dead. And then we get this:

To be clear: this is sweet, gentle Lightray absolutely obliterating the men who kept Orion in the torture device.

Nakey.

Lightray gives Orion the crushed remnants of his wrist cuffs, and Orion does a magical girl transformation about it:

For everyone playing along at home, that's the second time Orion has canonically told Lightray that he loves him.

Anyway, Orion goes off to get revenge on the guy who did this to him (it's very satisfying, please read Orion), and then he's depressed some more until he has some brotherly bonding time with Scott and finally feels well enough to go back to New Genesis. His last line of dialogue in the series is "For it is late, and the sunrise and friend Lightray await us in the gleaming city of the gods." OKAY!

Tragically, almost every New Gods appearance after this is complete dogshit, although there is a great moment in Hal Jordan and the Green Lantern Corps (a Rebirth series) where they need information from Orion but he's comatose so they bring in a telepath and the only word he can get out of Orion's mind is "Lightray." I'LL BET.

IN CONCLUSION: Orion and Lightray love each other so so much and I believe it is honoring Jack Kirby's legacy to think about them smooching. It's what the King would have wanted!

[yilingpatriarchscvnt]

One glance, eternal mistake.

Zhongli x God!Reader

Angst with no comfort, regret, mention of death, character dying, blaming someone innocent.

"maybe it would have been better if we have never met y/n."

Summary: Y/n falling in love with the god of contract, who knew it would turn out this way.

_____________________________________________

Stars of the teyvat... Yes, the fake sky and the stars. Y/n was indeed a magical creature type of god. Y/h color with a fading midnight blue to blend in with the sky, her eyes glowing like the stars that rises of up in the middle of the night. Watching all over teyvat, reporting back to the heavenly principles.

Y/n was no strong or weak god, all she could do is control over stars and look over the world. Until she fell from sky when khaenri'ah's fall started. Watching archon's destroying the innocent khaenri'ah people turning into a monster. She can't interfere, it would be illegal to the laws of teyvat and would get punishment from the upper gods.

She wake up at the mountains of liyue, Morax's territory.

Traveling around the liyue and bumping to morax accidentally, of course from her appearance morax would know she was not a ordinary mortal.

"you are not from here are you?" A cold masculine voice sent shivers down her spine. From his gaze and his stand she knew she was not a match for him.

"I came from the stars, the sky, god of contract. I watch all over the teyvat." She tried to look at him like he looked at her, trying to scare him. Well that was a dumb mistake that lent her to embarrassment.

"I see mind exchanging names, heavenly god." Who was y/n to decline that offer. Time by time they got to know each other, they made lots of friends and had fun hanging out.

All teyvat knows a heavenly god shouldn't be falling in love with someone on teyvat. Principles knows why that stupid law was there, y/n can't put up with her feeling that called 'love'. İt made her like a person who is too drunk, can't find a way to stop her day dreaming about morax. She can't keep running away from him.

She loved him so much it was hurting. Everytime she see how he looked at guizhong with those eyes, it hurt. Everytime he hold her hand it hurt. Jealousy was filled in her head but who was she to do something bad to guizhong.

The day came and y/n was ready to confess her feelings, walking to the Qingyun Peak with a foolish smile on her face.

"I'm sorry y/n but my feelings belong to guizhong." Yes, a foolish smile on her face. Which place you look you can see her face slowly turning to a sad expression. Tear in her eyes as she lowered her head accepting the truth.

They returned back to liyue harbor in silent, not saying and words to each other like they used to. Sharing a few glances but looking away quickly trying not to disturb each others presence. Or that's what morax thought, how could she be disturbed by him being next to her. That's what she needed after all.

Only after a few days, everything fell apart. Everyone turning their backs on you, you never knew why until the guizhongs death rumors came to her ears. Quickly searching for morax only to be met by his angry face towards her.

"Why are you looking at me like that morax?" That's right she doesn't know why, why did everyone suddenly turned their back on her, why did guizhong die, why morax was looking at her like he was disgusted?

"Are you really going to act like you don't know? İs that it y/n? Were you so jealous that you had to kill her?" No...no she really didn't understand what was going on.

"What are you talking about morax, I didn't do such a thing!"

"Watching over teyvat? What an absurd thing for a god. Watching over teyvat so you could spot guizhong and kill her?" Morax scoffed at the first part of his sentence, making you tear up.

"İt's not an absurd thing! İf it weren't me this world would have been nothing but a chess piece for heavenly principles! I don't use my power to kill someone morax." She ended her sentence.

"Really? So why the liyue's people are telling that they witnessed you killing guizhong?! Maybe it would have been better if we have never met y/n." The ground started to rumble as he shouted.

"I didn't do it, I am telling you! I would have already be killed by principles if I did that to a minor god!" She shouted back.

Back and forth arguing for 20 minutes led them nothing but a prison inside the cave for y/n. She did nothing wrong, it wasn't her. No creature would look exactly like her.

Days after days, weeks after week and a month. She was stuck inside that cave that morax threw her in. The rumors started to vanish like a wind. Y/n already gave up there were no stars inside the cave and she couldn't watch over teyvat. She knew she was going to be executed. Heavenly principles already planned her execution.

The false rumor reached to everyone's ear in Liyue, it wasn't y/n who killed but her another creature sent by upper gods. God of contract, morax was devastated hearing the news. He was walking to the cave where you were in really fast almost sprinting.

Only to be met by you who was already got killed, a spear pierced through your chest as you looked at him smiling for the last time. Throwing himself on to her, catching her before she fall to the ground, Holding you.

"I lied y/n, my heart and my body only belongs to you, my feelings too. I was a coward y/n, I couldn't say it that they but I really thought it was you who killed her, I was wrong. I was wrong for the first time and I am letting you die like this." He confessed.

"İt was probably principles order morax don't blame yourself" y/n said through her coughes.

"how can I not? I shouldn't have done this in first place at all. I should have trusted you, I love you so much but I couldn't trust y/n. Don't forgive someone like me."

"Morax..." Her breathing got slower.

"No...no don't- just don't die on me like this! We still have lots to do y/n, once we get back to Liyue we can spend our times together! So...please.." his voice broke at the end begging to her stay more. She caressed his cheek wiping his tears away.

"Morax, I'm getting sleepy..." Her hand fall to the ground closing her eyes and breathing his scent in for the last time.

"I understand, please sleep well my love. Dream about being on the sky and flying around the stars again my dear..." He carried her body to a high mountain that had great views at night.

He sat next to her grave watching the stars that no longer shine as bright as before. The feeling of guilt pressing down on his heart, crying like a toddler. He looked up the sky once again as he saw a shooting star.

"you must be flying freely now, you look happy."

[whitemancumslut]

sad harry for ya

harry comes home with tears flooding his eyes. he knew you weren’t home before him so he didn’t even bother calling out for you.

he sadly made his way up the staircase and into the bedroom where he can finally strip out of his clothes of distress and into the bathroom.

harry gets in the shower and sobs. letting it all coming out. even though he was alone he still wouldn’t want to hear the emptiness of the home and his sobs together.

the water hit him as he cried and cried feeling his chest pain.

all of this work had finally got him to a breaking point. you couldn’t blame him. constantly in the studio, pushing dates back and forth… he was overwhelmed. all he needed was to be in his lover’s arms right now.

harry got out the shower after a good twenty minutes of drying his tears so when you came back their was no sign of tears.

when you entered the house and saw harry you knew something was off. you first called out his name, nothing. you called again, nothing. His car was in the driveway so he was definitely home. Maybe he was in the shower? You thought.

But you finally made your way up the stairs and into your shared bedroom, immediately meeting the figure of a sad harry. no, he wasn’t crying, but you could tell because he didn’t greet you with that heartwarming smile he does every single day.

you dropped your bag at the door and walked up in front of him. “baby? what’s wrong?” your hands softly found a whole on each of his cheeks which brings tears to his eyes.

he sighs as he leans into your touch. he doesn’t answer you, he just stays looking down at his fidgeting fingers.

the silence was killing you. “baby, look at me. what’s going on?” he finally looked up at you and your heart breaks. his eyes are going red like he’s been crying all day, your brows furrowed in concern as you softly caress his face.

he once again didn’t answer you but he shook his head and you figured he’ll tell you later. you weren’t going to force it out, when he was ready, he was ready.

you backed away from him, taking off your shoes, and work pants that were awfully uncomfortable and took off your jacket. leaving you in just a t shirt and underwear sitting across from him, laying again the headboard of your shared bed, calling his name softly.

harry sighed as he slowly made his way to lay his head right above your tummy. his legs wrapped around yours.

your fingers slide their way into his tight curls, massaging his scalp softly bringing comfort to him immediately. a hot tear drops down his face and hits your shirt, your heart breaks even more when you can feel the fabric against your skin.

you hear his sniffles, the way his fingers are fidgeting with the sides of your t-shirt, it was all a pain to witness.

you rub your hand other hand that’s not in his hair and rub it up and down his warm back. feeling his slow breaths as he lets out soft cries trying his best not to drench your shirt with tears but you being there just makes it known it’s okay.

[withlove-xixi]

— THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MISSING YOU AND WANTING YOU BACK: chilchuck x reader

ᥫ cw: angst, break up/divorce ᥫ wc: 820 ★ we are back baby!! oh and if it's written weird, then its just because this a sort of vent i guess ? im fine really, i just want a way to verbalize my emotions rn and there just so happens to be a conveniently placed divorcee in front of me (‾̀◡‾́ ๑) cross posted on ao3

— MORE THAN ANYTHING, CHILCHUCK CRAVED WARMTH

[♡]: chilchuck isn’t the best when it comes to his emotions. at most he can tell what he’s feeling, he knows he’s angry when he comes across particularly annoying people, he knows he’s happy when he has a nice drink of something expensive and delicious, and he knows he’s sad when he’s missing you.

CHILCHUCK WISHES, with every atom in his body, with every bit of his soul, with every ounce of his heart, that he could be selfish.

There’s this part of him that’s missing, some part he had a feeling he would lose, one way or the other; that part was you. As ashamed as he is to admit, the thought has passed his mind more than he’d like, as if he had already counted how many steps there were left until you walked another path, how much more grains of sand were left until you grew tired of him. Chilchuck can’t blame you— He could never bring himself to do that. Not when, in the depths of his sorrow-laden heart, he knew it was his fault.

He wants to say the signs were there, because if he had looked back at the final moments of his life with you, they were there; all the telltale symptoms of a dying love. It was the way you gradually stopped coming by the door to greet him when he came home, the way your eyes had slowly grown sullen with worry and exhaustion, the way you eventually he’d come home to find you already asleep. 

It had all happened gradually, not enough to have been particularly slow, but enough that the half-foot should’ve noticed from a mile away.

So, Chilchuck wishes he were selfish. This loud, angered part of him wishes he hated you. He wishes he hated the way your eyes shone when you looked at him, the way you smiled when he kissed you, the way you’d whisper a syrup-coated “I love you” before bed. With every fiber of his being, Chilchuck wanted to hate you. He’s convinced it would be easier that way, it’s easier to strike down your enemy, it’s easier to kill a stranger. But it was you, sweet, kind-hearted you. The same you that had tucked Chilchuck into bed when he got sick and was too stubborn to rest, the same you that had bought him an expensive bottle of ale on a random weekday just because, the same you that he had danced with in the rain the first time he asked you out, the same you that blew him kisses when he left, the same you that leaned against him when you were tired.

Chilchuck’s eyes hesitantly dart around the house, now more empty than ever, and only then does he realize the scar you had carved into it. He sees the window where you’d have stood waiting for him to come home, the couch where you two would come napping together, the kitchen where you made sure he was loved with a warm meal, the hallway littered with little notes and letters you two had given each other over the years. If he closed his eyes, he was still there; the smell of warm roast from the kitchen and fresh flowers in the living room

The house was well-loved, scorched with the memories you had together, every nook and cranny a different moment of tenderness and love. And more than the house, Chilchuck was well-loved.

His hands hold the kisses you pressed into his scars, the warmth of your cheeks, the weight of your body. His tongue brands the sweet way you taste, the motion of your name spilling from his lips. His heart beats with every ounce of love he still carries for you, and with it, every infinite moment you might never share.

It’s why Chilchuck wishes he was selfish. He wishes, truly, that he could simply pin the blame on you, trash his well-loved house, still neat and tidy like you had left it, like you always kept it, and tell everyone that knew you of how you so suddenly up and left without so much as a note or a goodbye or a kiss or a “I’ll see you again, someday.” But instead Chilchuck is left to wallow in some strange sort of illness, a terrible mix of grief and guilt and indifference.

It’s this gloom in his heart that he doesn’t like, the same feeling he had been recklessly burying beneath work, what are his plans next week, what should he eat for dinner. He can’t really tell what exactly he’s feeling, mainly because he doesn’t want to. It was as if his whole being had been shrouded in darkness, not enough to consume him just yet, but enough for him to notice from a mile away, enough to cast a permanent shadow on his life.

He needs to be selfish, put himself above you, above how he hurt you. Chilchuck needs to parade around town waving a flag of victory on how you had so tragically left him. He needed to be selfish, to find a way to absolve himself of this heavy guilt that nearly crushing is poor body.

More than to be selfish, Chilchuck needs a drink.

[roseglazedlens]

⦑ no life without death ⦒✶.*

pairing(s): luis serra navarro x f!reader synopsis: you watch the love of your life leave in pursuit of repentance from his former sins. inspired by @luisnavarros content: character death, hurt/slight comfort, sad letters, mentions of trauma « 0.7 k words┇masterlist┇reblogs appreciated! »

“Why are you crying, hermosa?” Luis’ smooth hand journeyed to your waist, the velvety graze of his palms pulling you closer. A sensation he knows will yield your uncertainty, the gentle act dulled the anxiety away, even if it’s just for a moment.

“You’re leaving, Lu.” The words spat out, brimmed with exhaustion. You’re about to lose him again.

Luis secured the strap of his duffel bag onto his shoulder, the other hand crinkling the one way flight ticket to Spain. Sorrow re-emerged Luis like an old friend, something that never truly goes away, especially after all the atrocies he had enabled, all the lives killed as a result. Paying the price for it, still, seven years after the incident. “And I’ll be back before you know it, eh?”

“I don’t care if you worked for Umbrella… please. Just don’t go.” Your brows writhed against each other, pupils glossy.

Luis wanted to hold you. Never let you go. Submerged you into his arms. But how could he protect anyone with hands made of destruction? How could he protect you like this? The guilt, like the black mould itself, festered in his very soul. It was now or never.

“Don’t cry, mi amor. Tears don’t look good on such a beautiful señorita like you.” His finger brushed against your lower lash line, collecting the tears in his lovingness. The steel ring on his index finger chilled your face as he moved, and you know it was futile to stop the man you love. “I must go. You know it.”

“Let someone else do it. Let them take the burden in their hands. It doesn’t have to be you.” Years and years of therapy Luis attended had allowed him to speak more about his past and came to peace with the memories. You thought he was doing so well. That he was finally going to let the past go, be with you forever. “You’ve done enough repenting. What about your happiness?”

As if consumed by your affection, Luis soothed your body into his. You saw Luis as who he was, and not just a pawn of Umbrella.

“Señora Dulcinea.” Luis ensnared your lips into his, capturing your breath through a soulful press of the lips. He planted his everything, his yearning for him, his tenderness, into a kiss so passionate, it seeped through layers of built-up apprehension. A kiss so beautiful, and one that you will never forget to be the last kiss you two will ever share. “Siempre te querré, cariño.”

“I will always be your Señora Dulcinea.” The tears almost poured out of you as you spoke, but you wanted Luis to leave on a good note. One that did not have you drowned in your own tears.

You smiled, and before you knew it, you slept in peace with Luis’ surrounding you with his warmth. Luis picked you off his embrace and placed you on the couch with a blanket over you.

A final kiss, a farewell on your forehead. He hated to leave without saying his final goodbyes, but Luis feared that his legs won't leave if you’re awake. His heart had been strung along so far by you, whether intentional or not. And that would never change.

Luis walked out of the door, and you are still waiting for him to come back to this day.

Until.

Six months later, a gentleman arrived at your door. Blonde, black suit from head to toe, guilt lingered his eyes. “My name is Leon. I worked with Luis.”

“Is he okay?” you asked, desperate. He didn’t respond, which told you exactly what you needed to hear. What you didn’t want to hear.

“Luis left a message to you.” Leon uttered and passed an envelope to you. “It took me a long time to find you. He kept you a secret, to protect you from Umbrella.”

You picked up the envelope, ripped it as fast as you could manage without damaging the contents and read:

My Señora Dulcinea, If you’re reading this, I’m probably dead, eh? Miguel de Cervantes once said ‘Hasta la muerta es toda la vida.’ There is no life without death. You gave me a second chance at living. After everything, you forgive my wrongdoings. Without you, I am a wandering nomad without purpose. Without a reason to live for. You freed me. That’s why I need to leave… If only to save one in many I’ve killed… Señora, I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me one last time, for leaving you. To protect you from this plaga that cursed our home. And I’ll do it all over again just to see your smile, cariño. Yours forever, Luis Serra Navarro

NOTE: I don't speak spanish. if you do & there's any inaccuracies, i would appreciate any corrections. translation:

Hermosa - gorgeous

Siempre te querré, cariño - I will always love you, darling.

Señora Dulcinea - Lady Dulcinea - a princess in the book Luis references throughout RE4R "Don Quixote" by Miguel de Cervantes

thanks for reading! come check out my other works. ––yours truly, rose.

[teruyakisser]

How about a S/O who is a serial killer. With Kanade, Hibiki, and Teruya. maybe angst with Hibiki and Teruya but idk bout Kanade.

Have a nice day btw. ♥️

Kanade, Hibiki, and Teruya with a s/o who is a serial killer🩷❤️💚🩸

Teruya's note: Of course! I will do my best!

Warnings: Mentions of murder and killing? And some spoilers?

Gender: Neutral

ᰔᩚ Kanade Otonokoji ᰔᩚ

To be honest, she had a feeling that something was off about you the first time she met you.

Unlike how she felt about Syobai, she was intrigued by this strange feeling and she wanted to know more about you.

You both have talked a lot and got along well with each other and shared some similarities. The more she paid attention to you, the more she started to figure out that little secret about you.

You were flabbergasted when she told you that she knew you were a killer. You hadn't told her yet so how did she know????

Eventually, she gave you that same smile you always saw on her face when you both first interacted with each other.

"Don't worry (Name) I won't tell anyone, you can tell me all about it as much as you want. I'll be taking this secret to our graves if we have too" 🩷

ᰔᩚ Hibiki Otonokoji ᰔᩚ

She was a brat towards you at first but she eventually started to warm up to you when you both were alone together and spend some time talking with each other

Everyone she has gotten close to always dies for some reason and it makes her upset. When that happens she always goes to Kanade for comfort, she has no idea that it's her sister who's killing everyone that gets close to her.

She thinks she might be cursed with bad luck or something. You had a feeling something was off about Kanade so you and Hibiki only talked whenever she wasn't around.

Hibiki wasn't as smart as her twin sister so she didn't catch on or know you were a killer until you told her yourself.

She was devastated and scared when you told her you were a serial killer. Were you the one who killed all of those Hibiki interacted with!?

You quickly defended yourself and told her you weren't the one who killed all of those people. You even showed proof that you weren't involved in the cases.

Hibiki is still weary of you....but she still trusts nonetheless. She just wishes all of the killings of the people she talked too would just stop....🩷

ᰔᩚ Teruya Otori ᰔᩚ

Ever since you known Teruya that was a part of the kisaragi foundation you were afraid of how he would react to you being a serial killer.

You had your reasons for being a killer in the first place...but it seemed too complicated to tell him.

Teruya was concerned about your strange behavior and asked if you were okay. You always gave him a reassured smile and told him everything was okay.

And of course...he believed you.

That was until he saw a file on the computer that showed a wanted poster that had your face on it. Teruya felt his heart sank the moment he recognized your face on the poster.

He went to confront you and showed you the picture. He placed his other hand on your shoulder and asked you if you were really a killer with an unreadable look on his face that sent shivers down your spine.

You realized you couldn't hide it any longer and openly admitted it.

Teruya felt sad and betrayed at the same time. Of all people, he never expected you would do something such as murder.

He stopped talking to you for a few days after that. This made you think he now hated you after hiding the fact that you were a serial killer.

You wondered if he will ever trust you again if you figure out how to make it up to him......

He might.....;)💚💚

[siriuslygay1981]

Ugh...just thinking about Effie watching her boys suffer.

Her first child, her baby...dying before he can raise his own sweet child. So many life experiences taken away from him so young. She hurts thinking of all the years she got and all the years James couldn't have. James who had wanted something more, who didn't want to be an auror but had put aside his dreams to help the war effort. James her sweet brave boy. He wore his heart on his sleeve, his love all consuming. She couldn't shield him from the world, she hasn't been able to for years by the time she left...it didn't stop her from trying though. In the end his heart was what got him killed, she did not think about how that made her feel.

She feels deep sadness at seeing what Peter had become, once a sweet young boy helping her set up the table when the other kids were rough housing outside. She can't help but feel a burning hatred, not towards her Peter, her sweet Pete...but towards this person that wears her boys face. The young man who betrays friend after friend, the one taking lives...that's not her boy, not her petey. He gave her a handful of flowers on mother's day, his face pink. Her Peter held James up in the sidelines, when no one noticed James breaking down...Peter could. Peter who she taught family recipes to because besides James, Peter was the only other decent cook. She thinks back to the boy with wide blue eyes, freckles dotting his nose and his cheeks, his blonde hair just slightly too long. She remembers brushing it out of his face tenderly and telling her how proud she is of him. She knows he always felt like he was being left behind, like he didn't quite deserve the role he had in all their lives. To her, she lost Peter too. Maybe he was the first one she lost...

Remus whose suffered every month for years and has a bad view of himself because of prejudice. How could her smart boy be so so stupid. He was worthy of love and it pained her to see him hunch over, trying to hide himself. She watched as he gave himself to their headmaster, to use because he shared a kindness that no one else had shown him. She couldn't tell him that he owed Dumbledore nothing. She wishes she could come back just to give that old bumbling man a piece of her mind, manipulating Remus was unforgivable. Remus who was sarcastic but so so sweet, smart and also so dumb. She didn't miss the way he smiled at Sirius, the way the two looked at each other. She cried for hours after Remus got the news. She wasn't sure if he'd ever open up again. How could such a kind soul be given such a cruel fate- he was once again alone and she wasn't sure she could handle it. But...if he got through it so would she.

Sirius who never had the love he deserved. Shunned and hated at every turn. How could they think Sirius, her baby, could ever betray his other brother. Sirius who was never shown unconditional love, who still flinched when she moved suddenly. She seemed to be the only one, besides James, to see the way Sirius stiffened when a voice was raised, even with no malicious intent. Sirius, betrayed and framed. Her second son, taken from cruel hands just to be stabbed in the back by one of his own. So suspicious of love that he suspected one of the closest people to him. Still grieving his younger brother, still in so much pain. He hadn't yet gotten to live, hadn't really been free for long. A handful of years at most and then he was sent away because of his last name.

The world wasn't kind, it seemed even less so towards the ones she held dear, to the generation cursed to fight in the war. She watched the eyebags deepen, their softer edges hardening and becoming ragged and barbeb with wire. It was unfair, it was gut wrenching, her boys were strong, they held on for so long for as long as they could and she was so proud of them. But...she felt relief, as bad as it sounded, when they finally were able to rest. They had fought so hard for so long the least the world could do was reunite them and give them peace. She hoped they weren't too hard on themselves, for the small stupid mistakes, the miscommunication, the stupid arguments and the silent treatment, all the times they could've spoken up or taken a moment to really think.

[alreadyjackbestfriend]

UNFAIR PT. 2

GENRE: angst, fluff

A/N: I know it's been a long time, and I apologize. I have been in a very intense creative block, but I hope you like it, this is the second and last part of this story, I'LL LEAVE THE FIRST PART HERE to refresh your memory!

days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into a fucking month. Your heart was so heavy, after a year of talking to Jack every day you could now count on one hand the number of times you'd talked in the past few weeks, and it was always short conversations that ended with "I'm not ready to talk yet."

Obviously, you didn't talk to Urban either, from time to time you saw his stories and you felt that you weren't so alone in your heartbreak, but then you remembered that you were the reason for his misery, and you felt even worse.

For a while you thought about going out to partys and posting everything you were enjoying as if it were real, but that was not your essence. You felt bad, you felt more than bad, you felt like your heart had been ripped into a thousand pieces, and while you weren't going to share it with the world, you weren't going to pretend otherwise either. your socials had been empty for a month, and although you evidently didn’t know it, Jack was losing his mind without even a shred of your day to day, so that’s why he was right now in his car looking at your house from the distance.

His heart jumped when he saw your figure walk out the front door, you were wearing a baggy T-shirt and sweatpants, your hair was taken carelessly, and your face didn't have that usual glow, but despite that, you smiled, the reason for your smile was your puppy. jack had been the one who had given it to you months before, and you thought that there was no better name than "snoopy", since its black and white colors reminded you of the cartoon.

snoopy was playing with you in your front yard when suddenly his attention was diverted to something behind you and he ran off desperately. your heart skipped a beat at the possibility that some car was passing and hit him, but quickly a tall figure with curls took him in his arms. It didn't take a second for your pup to start licking his face excitedly, making him laugh. You didn't even realize when you started to smile at the scene… shit, how you'd missed him. quickly your smile faded and tears began to fall down your cheeks, your heart felt heavy and you just wanted to hide. you loved him so much that it hurt, it hurt to see his smile after a month of just seeing photos on a screen, it hurt to see how beautiful he was and how good he was while you felt like a complete mess.

you didn't even care about snoopy in that moment, you knew he was safe and would be fine, you just ran to your door and went inside your house for shelter. in your desperation you couldn’t hear the footsteps that immediately followed you, and in a few seconds his arms surrounded your sobbing body lying on the chair.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry" his soft voice said as a chill ran through your body.

"stop" you replied weakly after a few moments, pulling away from his body, but turning to look at him. despite the pain and the tears on your cheeks, you had to face it, "I know that our relationship is not strictly over, and that you needed time to think, but you can't pretend that the last time we saw each other you let me go sad and angry"

"That's exactly what I'm not trying to do, y/n. I came to apologize, to talk things over, as it should be, face to face and not through useless texts. I wasn't ready to talk to you because I didn't want to do it through a screen, I didn't want to apologize to you through a phone. I know I didn't handle things well and I'm here to try to fix them before it's too late, because that would kill me. you and urban are some of the most important people to me, and you can't imagine how miserable I've been away from you, I just... I just hope that urban can forget his feelings for you and we can all be okay again. that's all i want, i never wanted anyone to get hurt.”

"I know, Jack. Me neither." you took a deep breath, "and I can imagine how difficult and strange this situation has been for you, but…"

"but that doesn't justify my behavior, I know and I admit it, and I'll apologize a thousand times if necessary, I just need to know that our relationship hasn't died forever"

"jack" you sighed, "as much as I wanted, that could never happen. You know that I’m yours forever”

you watched as a tear fell down Jack's cheek, "I can only think about how lucky I am to have you, and how I wish my best friend could experience this with someone who reciprocates. I've thought so much about him…trying to think about what he must be feeling, and... I just want him to be happy, he's my brother"

"I know, Jack" you said, taking his face in your hands, "and he's a great guy, you'll see that soon there will be a girl who loves him for who he is, it's not very difficult to fall in love with urban wyatt, it's just that he has I've been in his own world all this time"

"yes, yes, it's not difficult... but it has to be impossible for you, you're mine"

"Jack!"

"what? I'm making a joke about it, isn't that a good thing?" he told you smiling, and his smile spread to your face.

"very good"

***

Jack contacted Urban that same day, bringing back the two people most important to him in less than 24 hours, making all the anguish he had felt in the last month go away. But 6 months had already passed, and although you had discussed it with Jack a couple of times, you still hadn't decided if it was a good time for you to share space with him again.

Until, one day, Jack received a message from Urban that left him completely confused.

"what's happening?" you asked, seeing how he was staring at the screen of his phone.

"urban...says he...has a surprise for both of us?"

at that moment you didn't know who was more confused of the two, but jack replied that you could meet him at that very moment. Urban responded with an address, and you and Jack got in his car.

once there, you realized that it was a restaurant, although nothing very elegant, just a simple place to hang out. Urban was sitting alone at a table for four.

jack and urban greeted each other as usual, but when his friend's eyes landed on you, you didn't know what to do. urban just gave you a warm smile and walked over to give you a little hug. that simple gesture made you feel like you could breathe in peace again.

The three of you sat down and started talking, there wasn't any tension or awkwardness in the atmosphere, which made you feel grateful that the bad time you all had was finally coming to an end, and all of that was reinforced when Jack asked " and what was the surprise?”, and as if by magic, a lovely girl walked through the front door, quickly meeting urban with her eyes and apologizing for the delay.

The eyes of your boyfriend's best friend shone like the sun at the mere sight of that girl, much, much more than when his heart was trapped by you, and the best thing is that this time, that shine was reciprocated.

"guys, this is sophie"

the girl smiled at you, and greeted you enthusiastically. although before sitting down with you, she excused herself to go to the toilet.

Jack looked at his friend with a raised eyebrow, but a playful expression on his face, and Urban began to speak rapidly.

"This wasn't planned, not at all. Sophie isn't someone I'm using to make me forget about how I felt before," he explained, not wanting to refer explicitly to his feelings for you, "I think...I don't know, life is giving me something that I really wanted to experience for a long time, which is... to love someone and them loving me back in the same way. For the first time in a long time, I feel happy, and now that I think about it, I wouldn’t have met sophie if this bad moment hadn't happened between us, so I think that was the twisted way in which fate led me to what I wanted"

"fate, huh?" taunted jack

"Jack!" you said, giving him a reproachful look

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding" he said with his hands up, "I'm very happy for you man, I really am" he said this time, sincerely.

"Me too" you said, placing your hand over his for a brief moment.

"I know I never told you, but you guys are my example of true love, I think that if I get to have half of what you have, I'll be more than happy”

your eyes quickly filled with tears at his words.

"aw, baby" jack told you, hugging you, and urban just smiled, as the girl who had stolen his heart came up from behind and kissed the top of his head before sitting down with you.

[brights-place]

You should write Creek x Caine hcs /j……unless…../hj

Creek X Caine Headcannons

Pairings: Creek X Caine

Warnings: Cursing, Ugly ass Creek

A/N: This is my friend Kris is OC named Caine please go check my chaotic friend out this is their blog @memow-kris and they are gay af but I love them sm because of their dumbass also the art isn't mine it's kris is art work <33

- Since Caine found creek in his stupid ass abandoned emo sad boy phase he looked down at creek who was begging for atleast something - When Creek kept on pleading for caine to help him caine couldn't help but stare in utter disgust before smirking slightly "I like broken men... okay lets go ugly" Caine stated motioning Creek to follow Caine - since Caine lived near the outskirts of pop village and volcano rock city right on the border

- Caine was walking to help find pop village for creek while Creek was confused thinking Caine was going to kill him - Though Caine wanted to kill the teal haired male they couldn’t help but feel slight pity yet it faded when remembering the troll was an traitor to its own kind - What felt like weeks even though it was an day of Creeks Non-stop bitching they finally arrived as creek thanked caine with an huge grin - "Oh, thank you so much mate!" Creek said with an smile as Caine rolled their eyes turning around "Sure man, no problem" Caine was starting to walk away as creek quickly stopped him "Y'know, I'm sure everyone will be wondering how I got back... maybe you could uhm... stay longer?" - In all honesty Creek wanted caine to stay longer since he found the troll quite interesting - Caine groaned in annoyance wanting to go back home but creek kept on trying to persuade the male which had surprisingly worked - After that the two soon grew close together somehow - Dated after an year of Caine hating the ever loving shit of creek yet wanting to aggressively make out with him - Creek loves showing off but but when it comes to Caine he likes to be an even bigger tease but doesn't mind teaching caine new things especially if it's something spiritual - Creek would show the scars he got for being in the wilderness but he allows Caine to grace them with his soft warm fingers as caine ask questions about them - Caine's tail wrapped around creeks waist or on creeks belly, or curled arounfd creeks wrists when you two are sitting next to eachother, - Creek has a lot of trouble sleeping, but if caine is with him? this mother fucker would cling onto the male since he was in the wilderness for awhile I feel like he's a huge fan of cuddling it brings him comfort knowing he is safe now

- He's feeling guilty about betraying the trolls for his own selfish needs but he still thinks the others would do the same if they were in his position - Shared kisses with each other sometimes when caine feels like it or just to tease the shit out of creek - Creek praises caine every chance he fucking gets like have you seen him around poppy and the others he wants to be likeable! he wants his title back but he knew he wasn't able to get it back

- Creek showing caine how much he cares for him and loves having new experiences with you and quite enjoys the fact that caine would make an disgusted look - Either way it's an love hate relationship yet they both know they love each other deeply

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2023 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact!

[tabitha42]

The Wizard's Apprentice - Chapter 2

Saffron is just a lowly apprentice with barely a successful firebolt to her name. So what chance does she have with the arch mage she's slowly falling in love with?

Gale x Tav, slow burn, eventual smut

Chapter 1 Next chapter

Despite the less-than-warm initial welcome, Saffron was glad they’d found more people to travel with, especially since one of them knew how to cure them.

They entered the camp and began setting up a pair of tents next to each other. Luckily it wasn’t long before they were able to contribute to the group, as the caravan they’d looted had a good stock of food, something the group had otherwise been lacking before they arrived. Soon enough they had some basic tents set up and were gathered with the others round the campfire. Gale took it upon himself to be the group chef, and despite the pretty basic ingredients they had, he soon had a stew bubbling in a pot over the fire. The five of them ate eagerly, starved from the day’s events, as they shared stories about each other. Gale was one of the most talkative, though both he and Saffron were fascinated by Lae’zel’s stories of Githyanki life, and were only too happy to hear what she had to say. Shadowheart and Astarion were comparatively quiet, seemingly not wanting to share much. 

After dinner they each retired to their tents, knowing they’d need rest for the day to come. Saffron prepared the inside of her tent, trying to make it as pleasant as possible with the few supplies they had. It definitely wouldn’t be a comfortable night. When she poked her head out of the tent to grab some bits she’d left outside, she was surprised to see Gale sat in front of the campfire, staring into the flames. There was a melancholic look on his face, one she hadn’t seen from him before. She stood up and approached. “Gale? You alright?” she asked. For a long moment he didn’t answer. “Go to Hell,” he said eventually, the words completely taking her aback. “Wha… what??” she gasped, her voice equal parts hurt and confusion. He looked up at her quickly, an apologetic look on his face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just… poorly making a point,” he said, waving for her to sit with him. She breathed a small sigh of relief and did as he beckoned. “And what point is that?” She asked, leaning forward a bit to catch his eye as he looked back into the fire. 

“‘Go to Hell’. An everyday expression. So trivial it’s almost meaningless. But we’ve seen Hell… it’s real. And it isn’t trivial.” 

His tone was sad and distant, his mind seemingly miles away as he stared into the flames. 

“Devils, dragons, mind flayers - they used to be abstracts. Pictures on a piece of paper. What a difference a day makes. Now we have tadpoles swimming through our heads like carnivorous foeti… and that’s not abstract.” 

She watched him sadly, realising what was happening. He’d kept so upbeat til now, but the weight of it all was finally hitting him, and even he couldn’t keep up the positivity forever. There was a moment of quiet as she looked into the fire with him, just the sound of crackling flames between them, til eventually she spoke.

“You know… after I woke up from the crash, I was terrified. I thought, even if the tadpole doesn’t kill me, something else surely will. Goblins, or gnolls, or… less-than-friendly travellers on the road. I had no idea where I was or where to go. Everything seemed… hopeless. But then I found a wizard who’d got himself stuck in his own portal…” she noticed the slight smile on his lips as she teased him, “...and since then, I’ve had a lot more hope about everything.” 

He finally turned to look at her, their eyes meeting, smiles on their lips. “I think we can do this,” she said softly. “We’re not in this alone. We’ll find that creche, we’ll go home, and I’ll make you read my dissertation.” He finally chuckled at the last part. “I never thought I’d find the idea of reading dissertations so appealing,” he joked. She smiled softly. “You never had to face dragons and mind flayers as an archmage, then?” she asked. She’d always assumed people in positions like that got up to all sorts of adventures. 

“Can’t say I did. Oh I faced my fair share of challenges, of course, but nothing quite like this. Nothing quite so… final, over such a short period of time.” He glanced into the fire again, seemingly thinking about something, but whatever it was he didn’t voice it.

“But you’re right. We’ll figure this out,” he decided, looking back at her with a smile for a moment, before looking back at the fire. “It is curious - I would have expected us to show symptoms by now. The first day brings fever and memory loss… yet, I don’t find myself forgetting who I am, nor am I running a fever. Have you found yourself experiencing anything like this?” He asked, turning back to her. She shook her head. “As I thought, which makes our condition all the more curious. Tomorrow should bring hallucinations and greying skin… given how late it is, I might even expect some of those symptoms to start manifesting now, but neither of us is taking on a paler countenance, and I’m quite certain everything I see in front of me is real, unless you’ve seen anything inexplicable enough to be a hallucination?”

“I don’t think so… unless you’re about to tell me you’re a hallucination and I’m talking to myself?” she joked. He chuckled and shook his head. 

“I’m glad to say I’m quite real, which raises the question of why we aren’t showing any symptoms. Everything remains normal… which, any expert would agree, is quite abnormal.” 

“Any idea why?” Saffron asked, but again he shook his head. “Not a clue I’m afraid. I’ll keep monitoring our conditions, but right now, it’s a mystery.” 

“Maybe the tadpoles were defective, or there was more to the process and it was interrupted,” she suggested. 

“Quite possibly, in which case I hope it’s stopped the process entirely and not merely delayed it. We will have to keep a close eye on ourselves and look out for any symptoms.”

“Well, I’ll keep an eye on you if you keep an eye on me,” she said with a slightly playful smile, which he mirrored.

“Deal. Do let me know if you spot any unexpected tentacles.”

From the shadows, red eyes watched them as they chuckled and chatted together. They didn’t know he was there, likely assuming he’d gone to sleep, instead he’d been about to stalk off in search of food when he’d heard them talking and had decided to listen in. He had been making plans to try to seduce one of the group, plans that had so far been falling apart. He’d quickly discounted Lae’zel and Shadowheart and had thought that both Gale and Saffron would make likely candidates when they’d first joined, but as he watched them now he began to think that ship was sailing too. But maybe he could do something about that. 

He walked out of the trees and towards the campfire, acting surprised as he saw them. “My, you two are up late,” he commented as they both looked up at him. 

“As are you,” Gale replied. Astarion chuckled slightly as he sat down opposite them. 

“Elves don’t need as much sleep as you humans. A few hours in a trance is enough for us,” he said with a casual shrug. 

“Ah, of course. A trait I’m quite jealous of. I could get so much more done with more waking hours in the day,” Gale lamented. 

“And I wouldn’t have to wait around on my own at night, bored for hours,” Astarion said, a slightly flirty tone to his voice, aimed towards anyone who would respond to it. Neither of them really did, though.

“So, you never told us much about yourself,” Saffron said, making polite conversation instead. 

“I’m a magistrate back home. What’s there to say? It’s all rather tedious, really,” he said with a bored sigh. 

“How does a magistrate know archery?” Gale questioned.

“We all have to have our hobbies, don’t we?” he said with a smirk. “I’m glad for it now, my skills as a bureaucrat wouldn’t have done much against the goblins we faced before you two turned up.” 

“There do seem to be a surprising amount of goblins around here…” Gale said curiously, stroking his chin. 

“Well then, we’d best look out for each other,” he said, turning on the flirty tone again, until he was interrupted by Shadowheart. 

“Would you lot be quiet? I’m trying to sleep,” she snapped from where she’d poked her head out of her tent, before disappearing back in again. Astarion chuckled as he looked back at the others. 

“We’d best do as she says,” he said with a chuckle as he stood up. “Til tomorrow then, darlings.”

He gave them both a smile as he stood up and headed off to his tent. Gale watched as he walked off, then turned to Saffron.

“I suppose we should too. Get some rest and be up with the lark, find a healer before the wee one gets hungry.” As much as she wanted to stay there and talk to him all night, she agreed they needed a rest. Plus, she didn’t want to piss off Shadowheart. The two of them stood up and headed back to their tents. “Saffron,” he said softly, lingering by the door of his tent, keeping his voice down to avoid Shadowheart’s ire again.“I want to apologise for being so despondent earlier.”  

“That’s ok,” she said understandingly. “We’ve got a lot of shit going on… can hardly blame you.” 

“True, but still, I try to remain optimistic. Being a misery will help no one.”

“You weren’t being a misery,” she said, playfully nudging him on the shoulder. “But you are being a bit of one now,” she added a bit teasingly, hoping to make him realise he really didn’t need to apologise. 

“Heh, well in that case, I will stop apologising and thank you instead,” he said with a slight bow. She chuckled softly and smiled. “Then I will thank you too,” she said with a small bow of her own. “I definitely wouldn’t have been able to get through all this without you.” 

He gave her a smile, the warm orange of the campfire reflecting in his deep, brown eyes. 

“Then I’m glad I could be here,” he said softly, a warmth in his tone that made her heart skip a beat.

“As am I,” she whispered, starting to lose herself in his eyes. They both stayed there for a long moment, holding each other’s gaze… until finally he cleared his throat slightly and took a step back. “I will bid you goodnight then, Saffron,” he said, moving to the door of his tent, though still not taking his eyes off her just yet. 

“Goodnight, Gale,” she replied, only now realising how long they’d been stood there like that, yet wishing it could have been longer. “Oh! And by the way,” she said quickly, before he turned to head into his tent. “Call me Saff,” she said with a soft smile, deciding the formality of her full name wasn’t needed anymore. All her friends called her Saff, and she definitely considered Gale to be among them now. The smile that came to his lips showed he was clearly happy to be considered close enough to her for that.  “Very well,” he said with a nod. “Good, Saff.” There was one last moment between them, before he finally disappeared into his tent. Feeling almost light-headed, she went back to her own tent and headed inside.

Her heart fluttered as she lay down. Calm yourself, she thought, you’ve only just met him. She’d always been one to get swept away just after meeting someone… and that hadn’t always gone well for her. She was determined to learn from her past mistakes and not let herself fall for someone so quickly again. Yet, despite this, she found herself falling asleep wishing they’d only found enough supplies for one tent.

[aishangotome]

Alfons Sylvatica: Chapter 4

Chapter 3

♡———♡

It was all too routine, and for reasons I couldn't understand, I felt nauseous--.

Kate: ... Since you haven't been teasing me, I've had a very peaceful few days.

I gave him a pointed smile, laced with sarcasm.

Alfons: Well, well, I apologize for boring you.

Alfons: I can assure you tonight will be exciting.

Kate: How on earth did you interpret that as me being bored and wanting excitement?

Ellis: Ms. Kate, shush.

Alfons: That's right, Ms. Kate, shush.

Kate: ...

I was about to apologize to Ellis, but Alfons' unnecessary words made my nausea flare up again.

(Ugh, he's messing with me again)

(I need to focus, I'm on the job as a "Fairytale Keeper"!)

I somehow calmed myself down and switched gears to my assigned role.

Today's members were Ellis and Alfons.

The mission was to stake out the scene of a random slashing incident.

Ellis: It's about time. Let's hope the information Will got is accurate...

We hid ourselves in single file in a narrow alleyway.

Ellis stood in front of me, keeping watch on the main street from the alley's exit, and Alfons stood close behind me like a shadow.

(It's dark, so it's inevitable that we have to stay close so we don't lose sight of each other... but...)

(Isn't he too close...? Am I being too conscious of it?)

The various perfume scents wafting from Alfons behind me made my heart race again.

(Where, with whom, and what did he do... to smell like this?)

Various imaginations started to run wild in my head...

(...Focus!)

As if to shake them off, I desperately strained my eyes towards the street where the incident was supposed to have taken place.

In the dimly lit street, I could sense the presence of several people.

Small children, emaciated men... most of them were homeless, sleeping and living on the streets.

My heart ached terribly to witness these people who had fallen through the cracks of London's prosperity, unable to lead ordinary lives.

As someone who came from a humble background, their situation felt all too real to me.

(This city is overflowing with people, and the wealth to be shared is limited... life is not equal)

(Even so, they live each day desperately)

(And yet...)

I couldn't believe someone would indiscriminately kill such people.

(Why... what's the purpose?)

The disgust I felt when I saw the mountain of black corpses surged up again.

A feeling that was neither sad nor painful filled my chest.

(But...)

Suddenly, I realized something.

(After the last mission, I was so preoccupied with Alfons...)

(I hardly thought about that incident at all...)

(Thanks to that, my heart felt lighter, but)

(It seems like my thoughts were drifting towards the easy path... it's complicated--)

Alfons: Kate.

Kate: Huh!?

My body jumped in surprise when my name was called right behind my ear.

(Ah...)

Just that passionate voice easily triggered a flashback in my mind.

The "night" when Alfons called my name over and over again as my phantom lover.

Alfons: Ah, what a cute reaction.

Kate: Alfons... I was thinking about things, so please don't disturb me!

Alfons: That's why I disturbed you. So that you would think about me.

Kate: ...?

Alfons: There are many things in this world that you can't do anything about even if you face them head-on.

Alfons: Don't you think it's foolish to get hurt by facing everything head-on?

(I feel like I've heard something similar before...)

-flashback to dining room-

Alfons: Well, isn't it better not to know about such troublesome things?

Alfons: More importantly...

Alfons: Kate, is it okay? Not hiding this here?

-flashback to kitchen-

Alfons: Isn't it better to have your head full of pleasant and enjoyable things?

Alfons: Keep your mind preoccupied of me like that.

-end of flashbacks-

(He always seems to bother me when I'm worried and depressed...)

My thoughts stopped abruptly, like stumbling on a stone.

(Wait... but why does he always bother me at the same time...?)

Ellis: Al, Kate.

Ellis, who had been staring intently at the street, oblivious to the minor squabble behind him, raised his voice.

As he turned his face, which had been directed towards Alfons, back to the street...

Man on the street: Guh...

Along with a crushed sound, I hear something spilling onto the road.

(Huh...?)

Several men in black coats are on the street... and a figure collapsed on the roadside.

The men are chasing after the slum dwellers who are screaming and trying to escape, in a grotesque manner.

Like they're hunting.

(Ah... that's...)

The target of the mission - the one we're supposed to capture.

I understand that, but my body won't move, like a stone.

The black shadows attack the slum dwellers in groups, swinging their knives at the defenseless people.

It was literally hell.

Alfons: Hmm, quite a frenzy, isn't it?

Alfons: This is more of a massacre than a random attack.

--CHOICES-- We have to help him

How can you be so calm?

Is this real?

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

Kate: Is this... reality...?

Alfons: Yes, unfortunately.

Ellis: Al and I will restrain everyone, so Kate, you stay here.

Ellis' figure, leaping into the darkness, quickly disappears from sight.

(H-Here...? Alone...?)

In that world ruled by violence, there's nothing I can do.

I can't even be of help to the two of them, let alone save anyone. I'm completely useless.

I should stay here--even though I know that, the fear of being left alone makes my body tremble.

(But, yeah, that's right.)

(I can't record the sins if I don't watch properly.)

(But...)

My instincts were clearly rejecting the idea of watching this scene any longer.

Alfons: Oh dear, oh dear, how pitiful.

A hand smoothly touches the nape of my neck.

(Ah...)

At that moment, I realized that I wanted to cling to the touch of that palm, which I had been so wary of.

Alfons: "What you are seeing is a play."

--His voice spreads through my head like an erosion.

Alfons: "That bright red stuff is fake blood."

Alfons: "Tonight, Ellis and I came here to see a play."

Alfons: "Until we return... in this seat, you will enjoy the breathtaking action."

-

Suddenly, a floating sensation washed over me--and I was in a theater.

(...Wow, I've never seen acting like this before.)

I was captivated by the bloody tragedy unfolding before my eyes.

The overflowing blood, the scattered pieces of flesh, the expressions of agony on the verge of death... It didn't seem like a play at all.

Alfons: Hehe... Well then, I'll be going.

It was Alfons who spoke to me, as I was mesmerized by the stage.

Kate: Yes... Have a good time.

(But, where are you going? We came to see the play together...)

I saw my puzzled face reflected in his eyes as he peered at me.

While our eyes met, he smiled and gracefully lifted the corner of his lips.

Alfons: Please give your lover an encouraging kiss.

(...That's right. Alfons and I are lovers...)

Kate: Yes, of course.

I kissed his smiling lips, as if sending off a lover who was going out.

Kate: Mmm...

With a light "chu" sound, our lips touched, and his hand, which had been on the nape of my neck, moved away.

He headed towards the stage, which was so stained with blood that the original color of the floor was unrecognizable--

(Oh... Alfons is going on stage too. Amazing!)

(Wow... Ellis is amazing too.)

(When Ellis touches their heads, all the men's wrists stick together as if they're tied up.)

(Ah, people are falling down just by Alfons whispering...!)

Kate: Even so...

Kate: It's a very realistic play.

Even though I knew it was acting, the angry shouts of the men and the screams of the people being attacked made my heart shrink, and my heart was beating at an incredible speed with fear and anxiety.

When the knife almost grazed Alfons, I felt a chill down my spine even though it was happening on stage.

(I like watching plays, but...)

(This time, I wish it would end soon...)

My heart has been pounding since a while ago.

(It's scary... I don't want to watch it.)

(...It's the first time I've ever felt this way about a play.)

(But--why am I at a play with these two tonight...?)

A sudden sense of discomfort washed over me.

As I clutched my heart through my clothes...

Alfons: Kate.

Kate: !

I looked up to find Alfons and Ellis standing beside me.

Alfons: How did you like our play?

Ellis: Play... Oh, right.

Ellis: Yeah, how was it, Kate?

Kate: It was amazing... but,

Kate: Even though I knew it was acting, I was so anxious that my heart felt like it was going to burst...

I wanted to make sure my lover was safe, so I hugged Alfons tightly.

Alfons: .........

(Thank goodness. I can hear Alfons' heartbeat...)

I could finally breathe after confirming that his heart was beating regularly.

When I tried to let go, Alfons tightened his arms around me.

Alfons: I'm sorry to have worried you.

Alfons: ...Tonight, I'll stay by your side until you feel safe.

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Chapter 4 Premium Story

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