#this will be a one shot I will not let it gain more chapters

[anarchypumpkincowboy]

Me trying to think up a way to tie Jace’s clothes into a further physical manifestation of the illusion of choice Porter grants him - remembers about how it’s like inspired by bodice ripping novels - realizes corsets/clothes that lace up in the back are literally perfect as Jace has mage hand so he can still lace them himself but it’s easier for Porter to unlace while he has his arms wrapped around Jace

[saintobio]

blank canvas. (2)

after offering a painful ultimatum to finally be enough for him, things ultimately get worse as he decides between keeping you or losing you as the only resolution.

pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

genre. florist x tattoo artist au, mild angst, opposites attract

tags/warnings. strong language, defloration (kinda), explicit smut, undertones of manipulation and gaslighting, toxic relationship, undertones of cheating

notes. 11.2k wc! thanks for the love on bc1, i didn't expect it to gain traction at all but tyty. last part will come soon, but that will be the final chapter to this mini-series.

part 1 | part 3

The ride back home was uncomfortable. 

It wasn’t because you had promised to give yourself to him that night, but rather because his uncharacteristic silence was not what you had expected after delivering your ultimatum. You already proposed a wonderful solution to his needs, so why was he acting like you were the one being ridiculous? This was why you hated it whenever Sukuna chose silence over open communication, as it left you a hard time guessing about what was running through his mind. His expression didn’t offer any clues either, because he did pretty well at concealing his emotions behind a facade of indifference.

When you said you would do it with him, you meant it. But what did he think of it? 

The sharp wind cut through your skin, the roar of his motorbike deafening your ears as your boyfriend accelerated his vehicle upon entering the tunnel. The vibrant yellow lights offered a cinematic view, tempting you to imagine yourself embracing the wind with open arms, though you knew better than to do so. Instead, you held onto him tightly, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning forward as he sped through the empty lane.

It was nearing midnight, and the sparse traffic allowed Sukuna to indulge in one of his habits: riding his bike in the late hours of the night through this particular tunnel and onto the highway. You knew this ritual helped him clear his mind since it offered a rush of danger that sharpened his focus on the road. His choice to take this route tonight also only confirmed to you that he was grappling with internal thoughts. The last time he rode this fast was when your parents made you choose between them and him, slapping it in his face that he was and would never be welcomed in your family. 

To be honest, it frightened you. The speed at which he was riding was dangerous for both of you. Moreover, his bike was a YZF-R1, although street-legal, it was still a high-performance sport bike more suited for the track. It required agile and precise handling with its 1000cc engine. Yet, no other vehicle seemed more fitting for Sukuna than this. 

Whatever was on his mind, he didn’t care to let you know. You two didn’t really speak throughout the ride while you clung to him like a backpack, praying in your head that you two wouldn’t get into an accident. Thankfully enough, he did safely take you home as you arrived at your shared apartment at exactly midnight. 

“Please don’t ride like that again,” you muttered as he helped you out of his motorbike. “You could’ve gotten us killed.” 

His fingers then reached to unclasp your helmet, pulling it up to reveal your face. “Well, we’re still alive.” 

You looked at his face despite his best effort to avoid yours, standing centimeters apart while he switched off the engine. He didn’t return your gaze as though he was drowned by guilt. Should you speak at this? Or should you let him do it first? 

“Baby.” After a minute or so, it was your boyfriend who sighed and finally gave in, pulling you close and resting his forehead against yours. He kept his eyes closed even when he was cupping your cheeks. “You don’t have to do this.” 

Yes, you certainly shouldn’t. You didn’t have to do things unwillingly, but that wouldn’t change the fact that this on-going issue was putting a strain on your relationship and this would be your last shot at trying to salvage it. And you couldn’t have him looking for sensual gratification from anyone else other than you, so what other option did you have, really? 

“I want to do it.” 

“Not if you’re forcing yourself like this.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Who said I’m forcing myself?”

“Your face tells me you are,” replied he, staring at your face in defeat. “So, let’s not—”

“What, and let this issue haunt us over and over?” You smiled bitterly, shaking your head adamantly. “This has to be done. I need to experience it so I’ll finally understand.”

Understand what? His face almost spelled out those words, but he chose not to say anything of the sort and instead leaned in to kiss your forehead. “Alright. I’ll make it memorable.” 

— —

Easier said than done, of course. You kept overthinking about whether your performance would be satisfactory to him given that you didn’t have enough experience to learn anything at all, aside from the make out sessions that you did once in a blue moon. Around thirty minutes of your time was spent hyperanalyzing your situation in the shower, while the other half of it was spent doing a little more than your nightly routines. Since Sukuna liked powdery scents, you placed a good effort in applying lavender-scented oil and perfume on every inch of your body. You also shaved any unwanted hair, especially on all the intimate places you knew he would be seeing. And by the time you were done, you stepped out of the bathroom blooming like a fresh flower, wrapped in nothing but a thin towel that hugged your womanly figure. 

It didn’t feel right at all. It didn’t feel good knowing that you were preparing yourself like that, when these things should only happen on the first night after your wedding. It didn’t feel great that you were going to lose your virginity to a man who had not even proposed to you. This wasn’t even your honeymoon, but you had to pretend like it was. 

Did Sukuna feel the same? 

He wasn’t lying in bed when you walked out of the bathroom. Instead, he had just returned from outside—shirtless, wearing his favorite gray sweatpants, and holding a box of condoms and a tube of lube in his hand. It was clear he had made a quick visit to the convenience store nearby and got the essentials for your first night.

Immediately, he eyed your towel-wrapped body with restrained lust, clearing his throat as he walked towards the nightstand. “You look nice.” 

Really? Did he really have to make this more awkward than it already was? 

“Thank you,” was all you could softly reply. It was funny how he pretended to be busy placing the box and tube above the bedside table instead of lunging at you like a desperate man. But because you wanted to get this over with, you were the one who approached him from behind, wrapping your arms around his waist, and touching the firmness of his abs. For someone who had zero experience, you were definitely trying hard enough and that should please him. “You have to help me out here, my love. Guide me.” 

When Sukuna turned around, your heart started racing. Of excitement? Maybe. Of anxiety? Perhaps. He made it better though when he finally caved in and looked straight into your eyes, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear before lifting your chin with his hand. “You smell extra nice, too,” he added, leaning close enough that you could feel his warm breath fanning your face. 

You were feeling it now. The equal lust. The carnal desire. The feeling of his sweet kisses, which he made true as soon as he crashed his lips onto yours. His kisses usually ranged from tender to rough, but this time, it was an altogether different type of kiss. It was passionate and demonstrative, as if showing you exactly what he had been wanting to do to you the first time you got together. This must be the result of being celibate in over a year. He was clearly a man deprived of sexual pleasure, and you were responsible for it. You actually turned him into a monk. 

Now, he wasn’t holding anything back anymore. With his hand on your nape, he deepened the kiss to the point where you could feel his tongue exploring your mouth. You followed whatever he was doing like a good girl, like a very good girl, as he completely devoured your mouth with his. It didn’t take long for him to advance his kisses in other places too, being your jawline his next target, and then your neck as he feathered kisses around the soft flesh, leaving marks that would need a few days to be concealed. 

Because his arms were tight around your waist, yours were locked around his neck. Where else should you be putting them? What does the girl usually do in this situation? You tried not to think much of it and listened to your own body while your boyfriend was sucking the skin around your collarbone. At first, your hand traced his toned chest, then it moved southwards to feel his abs, and further down to his…

“Y-You’re hard.” Your eyes widened as you felt his growing erection behind the fabric of his sweatpants. It wasn’t your first time seeing his boner, but it was the first time you touched it with your own hand. It was the first time you had your palm stroking his length, swallowing hard as you realized just how hard and thick he was. 

“It wants to be inside you,” he whispered through your mouth, kissing you back again, “so bad, baby.” 

Gosh. Your knees felt weak and you two hadn’t even really started yet. How much more when he starts putting that thing of his inside you? You were breathing hard, trying to catch air as your boyfriend continued to lap his tongue with yours, guiding your hand to continue fondling his wood while it grew bigger the more stimulated it got. By letting you touch his hardened crotch together with his own, you realized that you had just unlocked a newfound fetish of yours. “D-Do you… do you think about doing it with me often?”

He bit your lower lip before pulling away, animalistic eyes sending you into an orbit of pleasure. “Do you mean if I touch myself to the thought of you a lot?” he teased, chuckling darkly at the obvious heat on your cheeks. You couldn’t help but feel excited at how vulgar he could be with his words. “I do jack off a lot, angel. And it’s always you in my mind.” 

You didn’t even have the time to melt from his words, because before you knew it, he was already peeling the towel off your body to reveal your completely naked figure. Obviously, your first reaction was to get shy—with your heated cheeks, your inability to look him in the eyes, your little efforts in covering your breasts and crotch, but he made sure to pull your hands away while keeping his eyes on you. “…Don’t stare.” 

Sukuna, however, didn’t listen. His dark eyes scanned every curve of your body, particularly around your chest area before he sighed and threw his head back. “Fuck,” he cussed under his breath. “You’re so fucking sexy. I can’t believe no other punk has seen you like this.” 

Your confidence grew little by little because of his praises. “But isn’t that a good thing?” 

“For sure.” He almost laughed at his own words, more so in disbelief, before he reached out to touch your bosom. “No one can touch you like this, either, baby.” 

“That’s—”

“Hmm?” Your boyfriend smirked at your reaction. While his other hand went to squeeze your breast, the other traveled to your bum, squeezing the cheek with equal fervor. “Can I have a taste of you, baby?”

He fondled your breasts with both hands now, massaging the rounded mass like they were his property. You had to admit to yourself that the feeling of being touched actually transcended your expectations. Or maybe it was only because of how erotic it was, but you couldn’t deny how turned on you were as his veiny, manly hands cupped your bosom. 

And as soon as you nodded and permitted him to ‘taste’ you, he took no time in gently pushing you down the mattress, allowing you to lay at a comfortable position under him and his wanton stare. Taste you? He was more like eating you, when he pinned you against the mattress and sucked the skin on your chest. At first, his tongue rolled along your cleavage, inching closer and closer to your right breast while he had his hand squeezing the left. Your body naturally gravitated towards him as you arched your back so he could have better access to your chest. Not only your chest, but also your crotch as he started grinding his clothed manhood in between your folds. 

“Mm…”

Sukuna’s mouth was on your breast now, suckling on your flesh and playing his tongue around your nipple. You couldn’t tell if it was pleasurable or painful because his tongue felt ticklish on your skin, but the suction definitely was an entirely different feeling. Both weren’t bad, anyway. They were just new to you. But even if they were foreign, you were curious and all the more interested, studying every little thing he was doing with your body and trying to make mental notes out of it. 

Maybe you should have watched porn. That way, you could have been more aware of the step-by-step process of having sex. Who knew there were steps to follow at all? You didn’t think that foreplay could draw this much delay in your session because all you thought was that he was going to insert his cock straight inside you as soon as he saw you naked. 

With all the touching, fondling, and kissing… what were you supposed to do? He was doing all the work here. 

“Baby,” you spoke softly, staring at the ceiling, “C-Can I… touch you?” 

Instead of pulling away, his mouth latched onto your left boob, giving it the same attention before moving south. “Not yet.” 

When he said that, you didn’t expect his hand to land on your crotch. Your heart was thumping at an irregular rhythm as you felt his fingers moving in circles around your bud, playing with your clit before spreading your folds apart. “Nghh—!” you let out an embarrassingly loud moan, eyes widening at the sound of your voice, but your boyfriend shushed you by placing a peck on your lips before spreading your legs into a V. 

“You’re so wet,” he said, pointing out the obvious as he positioned himself in between your legs, spreading your labia to reveal your entrance. Something about the situation made you increasingly self-conscious, but his undeniably hungry gaze kept you from covering your most sensitive area. It seemed like he was enjoying the sight of your pussy, especially with how wet and ‘untouched’ it was. “Your pussy’s so pretty, baby,” he mumbled, lowering his face closer to the area, “Can’t wait to put my dick inside it.” 

You whimpered at the feeling of his tongue in between your folds. No, you couldn’t even think straight after he started teasing your vagina, alternating between flicking his tongue around your bud to french kissing your entrance. His tongue was so deep in your cavern that you were raising your hips involuntarily, going insane from the pleasure it sent your body. Your hands even gripped the sheets and your back arched into a C as you held back from moaning like a wild animal. At some point, the slurping sounds and the feeling of his mouth kissing your vagina had your legs shaking. 

Though, you could ask yourself: what turned you on the most? Was it him actually eating your pussy or just the idea of him doing it? 

And just when you thought he was done, he replaced his mouth by inserting a finger inside your cunt, garnering a much louder whimper out of you. “B-Baby!”

“Does it hurt?” he asked, eyes locked with yours as he slowly moved his middle finger in and out. “It’s so tight.” 

“It hurts…” You nodded, feeling his finger moving in circles inside your cunt as though he was trying to get a feel of your walls, measuring the tightness and such. 

He kissed you for a good minute. “Relax, angel. Don’t clench too much.” 

Clench? You didn’t even know you were doing such a thing. “How to…?” 

“Just relax.” Sukuna placed a hand on your abdomen, pressing it down while he was inserting yet another finger inside of you. “This’ll help you prepare so it won’t hurt as much later.” 

Now, you were goddamn nervous. What did he mean it wouldn’t hurt as much? Because you were overthinking the pain of having him his actual cock inside of you. If you couldn’t even bear having his two fingers inside you, how much more with his clearly thick shaft? It was ridiculous to feel both anxious and yet aroused at the same time. Anxious, because you knew he could rip you open. Aroused, because his fingers were currently doing a great job at hitting your most sensitive spot. Whatever it was that he was reaching, it was certainly sending waves of ecstasy throughout your body. 

His fingers continued to move. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. Around. When he pulled his digits out, he sucked the juices on them, tasting every drip of your essence from his fingers. “Sweet.”

Were you? You started to get curious at how he tasted, too. Sweet? Salty? Bitter? You seemed to be moving on autopilot when you pulled yourself up and sat in bed on your knees. “Your turn?” 

You asked the question as if you knew what you were doing, which was why Sukuna found it adorable and humorous at the same time. He did help you pull down the sweatpants that had been covering his erection for what felt like eternity, only to reveal a monstrous size that sprung out of the garment. 

Holy fuck was all you could say. 

He stood at the edge of the bed, a devilish smirk displayed on his saintly face as he saw the length of his cock compared to your face. You obviously hadn’t seen many cocks in your lifetime to be able to compare his size, but in your eyes, he was definitely big. He was girthy. He was lengthy. He was veiny. Meaty. 

“Wanna suck it for me, baby?” he encouraged, pumping his shaft while looking at you. Fuck. “Open your mouth.” 

You did as told, wrapping a hand at the base of his length while placing his tip on your mouth. You pressed your tongue flat on the surface of his tip, rolling your tongue around the head as if it were a lollipop. Was that what you were supposed to do?

“Eyes on me.” His voice deepened an octave. And it was also raspier. 

Why did he want you to look up at him? It was already embarrassing. 

“I said, eyes on me, angel.” He grabbed your chin and forced you to lock eyes with his darkened ones. Damn. No wonder girls were desperate to see him in his shop every single day. This was probably what they had been daydreaming about. “Suck my cock.” 

In your head, you became a slut. In reality, you were still a shy, inexperienced virgin who didn’t know what to do. You relied on his instructions and looked at his expressions to know if you were doing a good job and to see what he liked and didn’t like. He definitely liked it when you sucked the head, liked it even more when you started to let him go deeper in your mouth, and surely liked it a hell lot better when you gagged after his cock hit the back of your throat. But in spite of the string of saliva that left your mouth after gagging from his cock, his arousal only grew harder, this time holding your hair in his fist as he began thrusting his hip forward. You were bobbing your head at a rhythm that satisfied him, feeling the stretch on your scalp as he tightened his grip on your hair. 

“Tighten your mouth around it,” he instructed, fucking your mouth senselessly like hitting your throat was driving him nuts. Your eyes were already filling up with tears because of your urge to gag again, but you didn’t think it would be a good idea to stop now while he was just starting to pleasure himself. 

This was the first time in your life to give someone a blowjob, and you weren’t sure what to make of that experience. It personally didn’t give you pleasure, but you liked hearing his desperate moans. You liked hearing him curse and get vulgar with his words. You liked seeing him get rough. His taste, on the other hand, was somewhat a different experience. Since you were only sucking his flesh, it was a tad bit salty at first contact but didn’t taste anything much after tongue got used to the skin around his shaft. Perhaps his cum would have a stronger flavor, though it looked like he had no plans in releasing his load into your mouth as he pulled his member out. 

“Fuck it,” he grunted, gently pushing you back and spreading your legs wide open again, “I wanna feel your pussy so bad. Can I fuck you raw, babe?” 

All those condoms, and he wanted to have you raw? 

“But… I don’t wanna get pregnant.” 

His face was full of assurance, shaking his head and denying any chance of knocking you up. “You won’t be. I’ll pull out, I just… I have to feel you raw the first time. I have to.” 

“Okay…” 

You were nervous as hell. You had butterflies in your stomach, your heart pounding in your chest like a drumbeat you couldn’t silence. You had imagined this moment countless times, but now that it was here, the reality of it was too overwhelming. Your mind yet again raced with a whirlwind of doubts and insecurities, and every nerve on your body seemed to be on high alert while you watched him getting occupied with rubbing his entire length with lube, ensuring a smooth entrance inside you. 

He was nervous too, right? You couldn’t be the only one. You couldn’t be. 

You just wanted everything to be perfect. To show him how much you cared. To feel that you were enough. But the thought was paralyzing. Tonight was more than just physical intimacy; it was a step forward in your relationship, a moment of connection you wanted so badly to cherish. This first intimate encounter should be filled with love, respect, and mutual understanding. 

But what if after this, he’d come to realize that you weren’t the one? What if he’d get disappointed and tell you that you weren’t worth it? What if he’d leave you for someone else who could pleasure him better? What if, after you had given yourself to him, no one else would ever appreciate you anymore? 

You wanted this, didn’t you? You wanted to feel the heat of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, the intimacy of your connection. You wanted to explore this uncharted territory with him, to dive headfirst into the unknown and discover what lay on the other side. But were you really ready for this? Did you truly want this? Would it be everything you had imagined, or would you regret losing your virginity to him?

The fear of inadequacy gnawed at your confidence as Sukuna positioned himself back in between you, his tip rubbing at your slit a couple times before he finally sunk it into your entrance. 

“Haaa—!” 

“Shh. It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

“N-No, I—!”

It felt like your walls were being stretched so painfully, like your flesh was being torn open in the most agonizing way. This was not the kind of pain you pictured out when he put his member inside. Sukuna even tried to grab hold of your hips to keep you steady, but you were withdrawing your hips back, wanting nothing but for him to remove his cock. 

“It hurts… It hurts… please, stop. Please!” 

“Baby, I’m trying to be gentle—”

“I SAID STOP!” 

Both of your eyes widened at the same time, and that was the only time you two were ever in sync. He was clearly shocked by your outburst, while you yourself were surprised at how you raised your voice at him. Neither of you expected that situation. As a result, he did pull away and completely withdrew himself from you. 

Frustration was evident on his visage and he couldn’t even hide it anymore. “Fuck this,” he spat in exasperation, taking a deep breath as he reached to slip his sweatpants back on. “I knew it.” 

“No, I…” You swallowed. “It just… You kinda forced it, I wasn’t ready.” 

“I forced it, really? I forced you?” His laugh was out of complete disbelief. “I never forced you into anything, angel. I’ve asked you since the beginning if this is really what you want.” He took a pause, a very uncomfortable one, before he went on murmuring, “It was just my tip and you’re overreacting like this. I’m not even halfway in.”

His agitation had finally awakened you to your senses, realizing that you did end up doing what you were scared of doing. You ruined the moment. You were so caught up in your bubble of negative thoughts that you had once again failed to fulfill what you were supposed to do. No wonder he was aggravated, now sitting away from you and wearing his clothes as if telling you that he was done. Done being blue balled by his own girlfriend. Done expecting something he was never really bound to have. 

You reached out to touch his arm. “Baby, I’m sorry… I just got scared, but we can still—”

“Still do it?” he continued your sentence by ironically cutting you off, “No, the fuck, I won’t. I’m not in the mood anymore.” 

His reaction brought tears to your eyes, because the way he was acting stung your fragile heart. You didn’t mean to ruin anything. More importantly, you didn’t wish for everything to just turn out like this. “I-I’m sorry. Let me try again, please.” 

The weakness of your voice seemed to have softened him, becoming calmer and more composed after a few minutes of contemplation, but he still held his ground when he massaged his temple and sighed. “Let’s just not push it, Y/N.” He looked at your eyes, with hurt and rejection reflecting on them. “Even if you say you wanna do it, you think I can’t see it in your face that you’re not really into it? You’re never ready for me and maybe it’s my fault, maybe there’s something about me that you’re so scared of. Maybe it’s because you don’t feel secure with me, maybe you wanna save yourself for someone better, someone who can give you a brighter future—”

“That’s not true!” You shook your head desperately, your eyes blurring from the pool of tears while you clung to his arm. Where was all this coming from? It sounded like he had been harboring those feelings for so long. “That’s not true. What are you even saying?” 

“I don’t even know what I’m saying. I’m just…” Trying to give a reason why you won’t give it to me. That must be what he had wanted to say. “Look, I don’t wanna pressure you into this bullshit anymore. I don’t wanna make it look like I’m begging for your affection like this. Intimacy should happen normally for couples, and if we can’t have that, then we can’t. That’s it.” 

Why did he sound like he was giving up? 

You tried to keep your emotions at bay while listening to him battling with his internal thoughts. “I understand I disappointed you tonight, but…”

He was adamant at shaking his head, distancing himself from you by getting up from the bed. “No, you got nothin’ to apologize for. It’s your body and your choice. I’d never force you into anything.” 

Then… then…

“I just think it’s not the perfect time,” he continued, shooting you a glance before looking away. Each step he took added another crack on your fragile heart. “From now on, I’m never gonna initiate anything intimate nor will I expect anything from you, aight? I’m over it.”

Alone in your vulnerability, you could feel the cold air hugging your naked body as you watched him walk towards the door, leaving you in the dark both literally and figuratively. “Where a-are you going? Come on… Please.” 

He no longer cared to turn around. He no longer bothered to comfort you as he walked away, muttering, “Just gonna go for a ride. Don’t wait on me.” 

— —

Nearly three weeks had passed since that night and you would be lying if you said everything was okay. 

No, everything was not okay. You could feel the distance growing each day even when you two still did everything together. Your normal routines didn’t feel normal anymore because he was acting too detached ever since he told you that he wouldn’t initiate anything intimate ever again. And to be honest? It hurt. A whole fucking lot. Hearing your partner say that they would never wish to do anything intimate with you was probably the worst way to experience heartbreak. Because he was truthful with it, and he showed it very openly. 

Now, he’d lock the door whenever he would take showers. He’d spent most of his time outside riding his bike until midnight. He stopped texting you sweet messages while on tattoo shop duty. He seldomly joined you to eat breakfast and dinner together. His back would face you whenever you two slept in bed. His eyes avoided you even when you walked around in underwear. His hand wouldn’t touch you even when you were centimeters close to him. There were no kisses exchanged either, unless obliged to do so when leaving the house. No hugs. No hair-stroking, hand-holding sweetness ever shared. You were simply cohabiting in your shared apartment like strangers who had barely even said I love you’s. 

“Man, that’s rough,” remarked Suguru Getou, your cousin and the barista, as he tidied up the counter behind the elevated bar. Having just served his friend an Americano, he listened intently as you vented about your situation with Sukuna. “I’ll be honest with you, Y/N. It’s not looking good for you.”

You knew that. You just refused to acknowledge it. “I mean, all couples fight.” 

Suguru shook his head, however. “You two aren’t even fighting. Dude just gave up and started detaching himself from you. If that’s not a sign already, then I don’t know what is.” 

“What sign?” you asked, hiding the obvious worry in your voice. You need not be dense about his words, but you wanted to have some kind of hope to grasp on. 

“Sign that he’s falling out of love?” he continued. 

And somehow, his white-haired friend thought it would be okay to chime in. “More like a sign that the tool's not interested anymore and is about to dump her.”

Your face felt hot and in the most terrible way. “Sorry, what was your name again?” you asked, your tone dripping with sarcasm. You hadn’t expected the guy to suddenly chime in, considering he had been quietly typing on his laptop just moments before. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion, so don’t go listening to somebody else’s business when you’re not part of the conversation.”

“Jeez,” said the albino guy, grinning at your cousin as if amused by your barrage of a response. “She’s a yapper, too. I thought she was supposed to be this sweet and innocent type, Suguru?”

“Not always.” Suguru chuckled at his friend before turning to you, apologetic eyes now attempting to soothe your nerves. “Sorry ‘bout that, Y/N. Satoru just likes to tease people. Don’t mind him.”  

You kept a straight face. “Well, then maybe tell your friend to keep his nose out of conversations he’s not invited to.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Satoru gave you a playful salute before extending his hand towards you. “Look, I didn’t mean to overhear, but I actually sympathize with you. If it were me, I’d never do that to you, baby.”

Oh, God. You were so bad at this. Was he flirting with you or was he simply playful like this? 

Nevertheless, you rolled your eyes and ignored the hand he offered, essentially brushing off his advances. “I don’t need sympathy. All I’m here for is to talk to my cousin to try and have his advice on the matter,” you emphasized pointedly, making it clear to Satoru that he was the last person you wanted advice from. “I don’t need a stranger listening to my personal life.” 

“Doesn’t hurt to receive advice from another guy,” countered Satoru, shrugging. “Right, Suguru? I mean, we’re both guys. We can give you some insight into how men think.” 

You felt the urge to bury your face in your hands. It was clearly a mistake going there and putting yourself in that situation, and now having two guys aware of your sex life with your boyfriend. That alone was so wrong on many levels. But could it be helped? Suguru was your closest cousin, the only one who didn’t turn his back on you after you left your parents’ home. He was working at a cafe three blocks away from your flower shop and you happened to be delivering a batch of fresh floral decorations for their cafe. You obviously found it a good opportunity to open up to him about your struggling relationship and hoped he could offer some male perspective on Sukuna’s behavior. You just hadn’t anticipated his friend eavesdropping on the conversation the entire time.

Well, that should have been expected anyway, since only the three of you were in that cafe on a lazy Wednesday afternoon. 

“I don’t kiss and tell, by the way.” Satoru was beaming as he gave you that assurance and you couldn’t help but admit that the man had some charm in him. He was attractive, no doubt about it. He was also tall, toned, and seemingly well off based on the way he dressed. He had a casual yet preppy style, something you would normally see from guys who went to private school. 

“Do you work?” you asked out of sheer curiosity. “You don’t seem like the type.” 

“Oh, now she’s interested.” Satoru seemed to have found your sudden interest in him humorous. “I’m finishing my MBA, miss. Thank you for asking.”

“He’s a privileged rich kid with generational wealth and a family business,” Suguru remarked, playfully gesturing a cutting motion across his neck. “Definitely not your type, huh, Y/N?”

“Why, what’s her type?” The white-haired man looked intrigued, pulling his stool closer. He had that stupid grin on his face as though the topic just sparked his curiosity. “What’s her boyfriend like?”

Suguru, who wanted to play along, jokingly hummed in deep thought. “He’s got tattoos, likes to tattoo other people, is a college dropout, rides a big bike, smokes and drinks, listens to heavy metal, was probably a delinquent and a juvie alumni—”

“Excuse you, he’s never been in a juvenile detention center,” you defended your man, feeling like your cousin’s categorization of Sukuna was becoming a little too derogatory and you had to correct him for that, “and he’s a good man. He’s sweet and caring, he’s passionate, and he loves me sincerely.” 

“Sincerely, not?” Satoru quipped, earning your glare in return. He immediately raised his hands in surrender. “I'm just joking. If you believe he’s all that, that’s your choice. I don’t judge booktok girls who romanticize typical bad boys.”

You rolled your eyes at his audacity. Each word that left his mouth seemed to stoke the flames of your irritation. “You’re so offensive, I’ll have you know that.” 

The white-haired guy smugly took a sip from his coffee. “At least I don’t make girls feel guilty for not having sex with me.” 

“Oooh.” Suguru was clearly enjoying the show, unaware that you were one step closer from smacking his friend across the face. “Touché. He kinda has a point, Y/N.” 

“Be serious,” you warned. 

To which he agreed to. “Okay, I am being serious now,” he said, abandoning his playful stance to lean in on a more solemn posture against the counter, “If you think Sukuna makes you feel guilty for not doing it with him, then shouldn’t that speak for the kind of relationship you two have? He wants something you can’t give. His reaction tells you everything you need to know about him.” 

You tried to absorb his words with a better understanding and without any bias. “Isn’t his reaction normal? He’s a man, too. I understand his needs and I made him feel somewhat rejected.”

“It’s all about respect, Y/N,” answered Suguru, “If he’s a decent man, he wouldn’t make you feel that way. No mixed signals, no guilt tripping, no nothing. If you can’t do it, then don’t.” 

“So, you’re saying you wouldn’t feel the same if your girlfriend keeps rejecting sex with you?” 

Suguru smirked. “I never said I’m a decent man, either. All I’m saying is if what you want isn’t exactly aligned to what he wants, then maybe it’s best you break it off with him because this shit won’t get you anywhere, Y/N. Trust me. He’s gonna dump you before you know it. I mean, it’s one thing to pretend he’s all fine with it, and it’s another to distance himself from you like he’s silently protesting.” 

“Yeah, that’s true,” Satoru joined in once again. “It’s impossible for a guy like that to be in a relationship for so long and not have any pussy. We think of sex 24/7, some of us are just better at restraining ourselves than others. He’s putting up with it now, but it’s only a matter of time he gets sick and tired of waiting. You do realize he can get any girl he wants, anytime he wants, right?” 

Although you were still uncomfortable at Satoru casually chiming in on the conversation, it was true when they said they could give you the exact male perspective you needed to hear. This allowed you to go deeper into Sukuna’s psyche and understand why he was acting that way. You just didn’t know how to save the connection you have with your boyfriend when both your cousin and his friend were describing all the red flags on Sukuna’s behavior. 

“I don’t know,” you spoke in a tone of defeat. “I kinda understand where he’s coming from, so I can’t just leave him for it. I love him.”

Satoru looked at your cousin like you couldn’t be saved. “She’s in too deep.” 

“Yeah, gaslighted as fuck.” Suguru was shaking his head in disappointment. 

The taller man chuckled and brought up a ridiculous offer to lighten the situation up. “Honestly, Y/N. I know we just met and all, but if you ever need someone to teach you how to do good in bed, just hit me up. He’ll never know.” 

“Shut up,” you shot back at Satoru, eyes rolling at his remark. 

“You’re out here feeling bad for that guy when he could be fucking his clients at the tattoo shop.”

You argued. “No, he’s not—”

“Are you sure he isn’t?” 

It wasn’t Suguru nor Satoru who posed that question; it was Yuki Tsukumo, the café’s manager and Suguru's respected senior. She was in a relationship with one of your boyfriend’s stepbrothers, Choso, and was also a fellow biker, which allowed her to cross paths with Sukuna in their community. Despite this connection, she was never particularly close to him. In fact, Yuki didn’t personally get along with Sukuna and she was very vocal about it. She was, however, a regular client of yours and ordered floral arrangements from your shop on a weekly basis.

It had been awhile since you last saw her, and didn’t expect that the first greeting you would give her was a question. “Yuki, what do you mean?” 

Great. Now, three people know about your relationship quagmires. 

She was placing her helmet at the counter and sitting on a stool before answering you, “I really think you should talk to him about it, Y/N.” 

No, no. Why did you suddenly feel a pang of anxiety out of nowhere? Something about the sympathy in Yuki’s eyes felt unsettling, and it sent a wave of fear through you. She definitely knew something. What was Sukuna doing behind your back?

“Can you please just tell me?” 

Her gaze studied your face intently, as if deliberating on the right thing to do. “Well... I spotted him riding with a girl the other night. Initially, I thought it might be you, but last night, I saw them together again. I recognized her... because it was his ex. I think he’s been giving her rides home lately.” 

Amidst the quiet of the room, your heart felt like it was breaking in two. The sudden revelation sent you into an abyss of pain.

“You might wanna visit his tattoo shop later.” Yuki encouraged me with a comforting smile. “It may be best to confront him about it.”

— —

Sukuna wasn’t sure how to act around you anymore. It wasn’t like he was purposely avoiding you, but he just didn’t feel comfortable acting like everything was fine and dandy. Because if he was damn honest, the sexual frustration was fucking with his head. So much so to the point where he started questioning himself if he should still put up with a relationship like this. 

First of all, there were pros and cons involved. He had to consider that it was a special connection filled with special memories, too. 

If he was talking about the pros, he knew he would have a loving lifetime partner with you. You were beautiful, kind, and pure. You inspired him and motivated him to be better. You were unmaterialistic and happy with the littlest things. You gave his dominant side the urge to be a better man, like he was made to protect and provide for you. You became his muse; a blank canvas that was all for him to paint on. A canvas that no one had ever touched. Or, in your world, a white lily that was associated with chastity and virtue. 

But then, there were also cons, and the foremost of it being you were too conservative for your own good. You grew up in a strict environment with uptight parents who wanted to control your life. He could never voice it out, but he really hated that you were square like your parents sometimes. You were too traditional and afraid to explore new experiences, oftentimes policing him for living his life as free as he wanted it to be. The ‘opposites attract’ thing did seem to work in your relationship at first, with your differences being exciting for each other, but as time went by, it became clearer to him that you two were too different to actually be in sync together. 

Hence why your relationship became rigid and suffocating, forcing him to take a breather by distancing himself from you for some time. He did this for your benefit, because he had to clear his head before risking losing you for good. He didn’t want to jeopardize a relationship that he knew meant the world to him. Perhaps this was just a phase, a challenging period following the honeymoon phase, where all your differences seemed to become more pronounced.

But to repeatedly make him look forward to sharing intimacy with you, only for you to back out at the very last minute? Man, was that so frustrating. 

It didn’t help that it was destiny itself that seemed to be stirring the pot. Because while you two were going through a rough time in your relationship, the irony presented itself outside of Sukuna’s tattoo shop late at night just as he was about to close. 

“Ryo?” A tall woman with athletic build, long dark hair, and beautiful doe eyes came into view with a wide smile on her face. 

His ex-girlfriend of three years. 

Sukuna held the door for her albeit the confusion in his eyes. “Yorozu?” 

The only difference he noticed was that she had become a lot sexier, with the curves on her body more womanly than ever. It was obvious that she was active in the gym to achieve such a fit physique. But other than that, her facial features were the same. Her heart eyes still shone bright at the mere sight of him, as if they carried stars and galaxies. 

“I think I came too late,” said Yorozu, smiling in disappointment, “I should probably just return tomorrow.” 

“No, you’re good.” Sukuna insisted on letting her enter his shop, closing the door as soon as she was inside. “What brought you here?” 

She stood confidently in front him, wearing nothing but a blank tank top and some loose white pants. “Funny story ‘cause I actually just moved to this city recently and I just found out you had a shop in this area.” 

Oh? That was interesting, indeed. Sukuna wondered how she even found his shop in that case, while he was leading her to the tattoo chair. “Are you here to get a tattoo or?” 

“Yeah, yeah I am.” She was sprinkling some charm in her grin. He knew her too well. “I think it’s amazing that I’m gonna get it from you again.”

While Yorozu was talking to him, he couldn’t help but ask: was it wrong for him to be in the same vicinity as his ex? Considering how jealous you could get, this was definitely wrong in your eyes. But as he wasn’t doing anything sketchy, he figured there was nothing wrong about what he was doing. Yorozu was technically a client and he couldn’t deny her his services since she was basically a friend of his, too. So, was he breaking any code here? 

“Well, only if you have time now, of course,” she added out of consideration, “It’s kinda late so I can always come back.” 

Sukuna shook his head and headed to get his book of tattoo art samples. “It’s fine. I got clients lined up all day tomorrow, so,” he said, placing the book on her lap, “You wanna check that or do you have a design in mind already?” 

Yorozu’s eyes fell on the tattoos marking Sukuna’s body, her gaze landing on every familiar inch as though she had seen them all the time before. It was true. She had seen more of him, actually. She had done more with his body, too. “I kinda wanna get a sleeve, but I want you to choose the design for me.” 

A tattoo sleeve? Damn. It was something he would never in a million years see from you, but for Yorozu, it was totally normal. She was as obsessed with ink as he was. And although she’s had a couple of tattoos in her body already, which were done by him, it would be her first time to get a full sleeve. 

“I get to choose, really?” Sukuna chuckled lightly. If he were to think of Yorozu’s traits, she was definitely a classic red rose. A seductress, alluring woman was how he saw her and the said flower would be a true-to-life representation of her personality. She was passionate when it came to loving someone, and was completely devoted to him back when they were together. The only reason they broke up was because they were too similar, as if she was his counterpart, and he saw fit to leave a relationship where they both constantly battled for dominance. Yorozu could get too aggressive on loving someone and he didn’t particularly like that. He made her understand why they weren’t working as a couple, and it took her some time, but she eventually accepted his decision. Now, you could say, they were somehow on good terms. “Alright, I’ll do your sleeve, but I’ll keep the design as a surprise.” 

Her eyes sparkled in excitement at the thought. “I’d love that!” 

“Since you want a sleeve, we’re gonna do some stencil application today.” Sukuna didn’t waste any more time in getting ready with his equipment, biting on the glove while wearing the other on his hand. “It’ll take fifteen to twenty hours to complete a sleeve, and each session could last two to six hours depending on your pain tolerance. My schedule’s actually full all day until next week, but you can come around the same time every night so I can finish yours.” 

“Yeah, I’m absolutely fine with that,” she enthused. For some reason, Yorozu was happy with the idea. The idea of coming to visit Sukuna every night in his shop. The idea that they get to be alone. The idea that they would be able to reconnect just like old times. Those were the things that Sukuna assumed was going through her head. 

And as he did start with his ‘client’, it was probably best to admit that the sexual tension was high. The room felt stuffy as the both of them remained there until midnight, with her sitting on the tattoo chair, and him doing her tattoo to her left. His eyes were intently focused on the intricate patterns he was doing on her arm, but also couldn’t avoid seeing the contours of her breasts since she was wearing such a thin tank top. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen them before. He’d seen every part of her body from her neck down to her toes. He’d put her in every position from missionary to doggy. Goddamn, he could even remember how warm she felt around his cock. Didn’t she like it when he came inside her? Or when he made her swallow every drop of his seed? 

Sukuna cleared his throat, shaking his vulgar thoughts away as he continued with Yorozu’s arm. He may not be cheating, but thinking back on those intimate experiences with someone else other than his girlfriend was definitely not morally right either. But what sexual experience could he reminisce about with you? That ridiculously embarrassing night you two had shouldn’t even be counted since he was trying so hard to forget about it. 

He cleared his throat. Again. For the third time. “What, uh, what’ve you been up to?” 

Yorozu, who had no clue about his thoughts, turned her face to look at him happily. “Not much, actually. The bar I worked at closed down, but I got myself a new job in this club as a full time hostess and part-time promoter. You should come by. Drinks on me.” 

By not exactly accepting or refusing, Sukuna decided to just smile it off. “That’s why you moved to this city?” 

“Yeah, I mean… obviously, the rent here is higher, but it’s closer to my job. I get paid decently, too.” 

“That’s nice.” He was just trying to make small talk at this point. “Do you know your way ‘round here? How are you gonna get home?” 

She considered her options. “Probably a bus or something?” 

Sukuna paused, contemplating the situation. “There's no bus here at midnight,” he remarked, concerned for the girl who would have to navigate her way home alone at such a late hour. She was new to the area and clearly still adjusting to the commuter lifestyle. Unlike her, he had a vehicle that could safely transport her home. There would be no harm in offering, right? “Look, I have a bike and I usually take midnight rides, anyway. I can drop you off on my way home.”

“Really?” Her voice echoed excitement in them. “I’d appreciate it, Ryo. Thanks so much.” 

Life was ironic, truly. He didn’t see this situation coming because he never expected that he would even come across Yorozu ever again. They didn’t have any contact prior, but he still saw her on social media whenever he (on very rare occasions) decided to check his accounts. He never had her blocked, either, which was why you knew about Yorozu after snooping through his phone and reading through some of his old messages with her. Sukuna used to tell you not to worry about her, and that she was just his ex, and that she had nothing on you—which were all true, of course, but it was funny to him now that the woman his girlfriend was most threatened by was back in his life. 

And she was riding at the backseat of his motorbike, her arms latching at nothing else but around his torso. She was seated at the seat reserved for you, wearing the helmet that was bought for you, and holding onto a man that was rightfully yours. It all didn’t feel right. 

But because Yorozu delighted in his habit of speeding on the highway, he had somehow forgotten about the guilt that was forming in his heart. 

**

“You still have your ex’s Instagram?” Your questioning eyes met his defensive ones as he joined you in the living room, finding his space on the couch next to you. “I read your dms. Why haven’t you blocked her?” 

Sukuna’s breath remained steady. “Only toxic people do that shit.” 

“But I’m not comfortable with it!” you nagged, letting him snatch his phone from your grasp. 

“Do you see me talking to her still?” he asked, trying to be as patient as he could be, “Baby, I don’t even talk to her. I don’t think she’s active there, either.” 

You crossed your arms. “Then, block her?” 

“You’re being ridiculous.” 

“I’m being fair. You shouldn’t be keeping tabs with an ex.” 

“What are you—” Sukuna decided to cut his own sentence after realizing that the argument was plain stupid. “You know what, I’ll just delete my insta.” 

**

“How many times do you two do it?” you asked out of nowhere, sitting at the waiting area while he was closing his shop. “Your ex. How often do you have sex with her?” 

What kind of trap were you setting now? If he told you an honest answer, you would get mad. If he lied or even sugar coated it, you would also get mad. 

“Does it matter? Why do you keep asking questions about her and then get upset with me?” Sukuna’s frustration resonated in his sigh as he tidied the space where he tattooed his client a few minutes ago. “She’s an ex for a reason, so get over it.”

He was starting to get annoyed by your never-ending questions about his past experiences, but he knew you were simply coming from a place of no experience. You probably wanted to know what he liked in bed, what pleased him the most, what kept him from wanting more. Was that too much? No. Were you overdoing this entire thing? A little bit. 

“Why are you defensive?” you asked softly, still sitting on the couch as you watched him avoid your eyes. “You make me feel so insecure every time.” 

He scoffed, shaking his head as he turned around. “I don’t know, baby. If you’re feeling insecure, then do something about it.” 

**

“Thanks so much for the ride, Ryo.” 

Yorozu stood by her door, returning the helmet back to him while she kept her eyes locked on his. Her gaze was inviting, tempting him to give in and submit to his carnal desires. Any man would read her intentions the same way; Yorozu stared at him like that because she wanted to invite him to her place. She wanted him to spend the night and do unforgivable things. To remember the passionate exchange they once shared. 

But Sukuna wasn’t like that. No, he wasn’t a cheater. “I, uh, gotta get going.” 

“Oh…” Disappointment clouded Yorozu’s face. “Okay, then.” 

“See you tomorrow?” 

“...Alright.” 

“Okay.” 

“Wait!” Yorozu pulled his arm just as he was heading back to his motorbike. The sudden closeness in their proximity made his heart race fast. He knew what was coming. “I missed you, Ryo.” 

He knew what she was about to do next. 

And holy fuck did he guess right, as he was taken aback when Yorozu suddenly leaned in to press her lips onto his. Her soft, cherry lips moved desperately to taste his sweet kisses. 

But he didn’t return it. Instead, he immediately pushed her away. “Yorozu,” he spoke softly, “I have a girlfriend.” 

“You do?” She didn’t need to hide it. He could see the heartbreak on her face. 

“Yeah,” Sukuna confirmed, maintaining a more appropriate distance now. “We’ve been together for some time, and I live with her.”

Yorozu tried to maintain her facade of indifference, making it appear as though she was unfazed by his revelation. “That’s... That’s cool,” she said, “I’m sorry for, uh, the kiss.”

Sukuna nodded, “It’s fine. I should’ve told you sooner.”

“You’re alright,” she reassured him, “It's totally my fault. I hope she won’t be upset with you or something.”

Sukuna had no plans to tell you, knowing well the additional turmoil it would bring to your already strained relationship. However, he realized the importance of clarity in his intentions and the need to set boundaries. “We’re just friends. We’ll keep things civil. I’ll finish your tattoo in a couple more sessions, and then we’re done. Sounds fair?”

Yorozu nodded her head with a reluctant smile. “Fair enough.” 

— —

5 more days. Her sleeve required five more sessions, and days went by too fast for him to count. He had busied himself with his clients, while you had busied yourself with yours. He couldn’t even spend time with you because his shop took a chunk of his time from him, and even at home, things had become too awkward ever since your unspoken night. 

So, in some ways, Yorozu became his routine. She visited his shop for the past four nights and he had taken her home afterwards. She was in absolute love with her rose sleeve and they weren’t even complete yet. He still owed her one last session and told himself that it should also be the last time she should be around him. It wasn’t right and he didn’t want to create another source of argument with you. 

And in truth, he certainly felt a little guilty for spending more time with his ex than his own girlfriend. But did he purposely do it? No, it was fate that brought her to his door about a week ago. 

In spite of his stubbornness to admit his wrongdoing, he still ended up stopping by the flower market to get you a nice bouquet of white lilies. He knew you could make a prettier bouquet than that, but he thought it would be a perfect opportunity to surprise you with flowers that didn’t exactly come from you. Besides, he had some making up to do. 

Later that night, when he returned to your shared home, he found you sitting at the couch seemingly waiting for him to come home. The lights were dimmed and the television was turned off. For some reason, you were wearing outside clothes and had a somber expression on your face, too. That alone caused the loud thumping of his heart. 

“Hey,” he greeted, nonetheless, sitting next to you on the couch and kissing your cheek. “Everything okay, baby?” 

Your eyes carried sadness in them as you looked at him and searched for answers you couldn’t find. “Where were you?” 

Sukuna handed the bouquet over. “Got you flowers.” 

You didn’t accept them. Instead, every second seemed to torture you. “Where were you before that?” 

“In the shop…?” He didn’t know where to start, but he was definitely scared. “Why? Sorry I’ve been busy lately. I’ll make it up to you, angel.” 

“You close your shop at nine,” you pointed out, voice breaking in the middle of your sentence. “Why do you always come home at two in the morning?” 

Fuck. Fuck! What should he say? Should he make an excuse for it? Should he say he’d been checking on Yuuji after his shifts? Should he say he’d been riding to other cities to clear his mind? He didn’t fucking know what to say, especially not when you were clearly on the verge of bursting out. 

“Answer me!” you cried, finally releasing the bottle out in the open. The tears that welled in your eyes now streamed ceaselessly down your face. “You’re an asshole. I-I hate you! I fucking… you think I don’t know? You think I’m too stupid to know?!”

Sukuna calmly received the fists you had swung on his chest as he tried to grab ahold of your arms. “Baby, I’ll explain everything.” 

“No, damn y-you!” The tremor in your voice squeezed his heart in the most painful way because he hated seeing you breaking down in front of him and over him. This wasn’t the first time he had made you cry, but this was the first time he had seen you actually sob like this. “I-I gave myself to you! I left my p-parents for you! And this is what you do to me? You’re cheating on me with your ex?!” 

He was desperate to hold you, hug you, cage you in his arms. He wanted to take your pain away. Wipe your tears away. However, you didn’t allow him to touch even a strand on your hair as you kept on pushing him off. Sukuna felt like he was going to lose his mind. “Baby, listen to me please. It’s really not what you think—”

“I don’t care!” you spat, moving away to wipe the tears off your face. “I don’t fucking care! You sleeping with her or not doesn’t change a thing. Don’t you get it? I’ll never be enough for you!” Despite your loud voice, the cracks in her facade only revealed your longing for validation and acceptance, etching into every tear-stained moment you two had shared over the course of your relationship. He watched you, paralyzed by the sight of you breaking down, as you grabbed a luggage you had been hiding behind the couch as if you were ready to leave. “I’ll never be the person you want me to be and staying with you will always remind me of it!” 

“No, no, no… Let’s talk.” Sukuna had to suppress his own tears while he tried to reach out for you. “Baby, please. I don’t feel anything for her, or anyone. It’s just you. You are enough for me, baby. I’m sorry, please.” 

You, on the other hand, were adamant at your decision. “I can’t stand what you’re doing to me anymore. I don’t like how you make me feel about myself. I hate how you make me question my own choices!” Tears continued to flow, and your voice wavered, transitioning from anger to a more subdued, pained tone. “I hate… I hate that I love you so much, that I lost all my backbone just to make you happy.” 

“You don’t need to.” He was feeling more and more miserable now, his heart sore from all the emotions he had seen from you. “Y/N, you don’t need to. I’m sorry, I love you. I love you so fucking much.”  

…

…

…

“It’s over, Sukuna,” were the last words he could recall hearing before passing out drunk in his bed that afternoon. “We’re done.”

— —

It was your first heartbreak. Your first actual relationship. Your first everything. Surely, people shouldn’t expect you to move on easily, especially not when the subject of your heartache worked across the street from you. 

You were a mess. You had cried enough tears after you moved out of his apartment that night, screamed your heart out as you suffered from the pain of loneliness once more. You couldn’t even bear the thought of returning to your parents and hearing them say they told you so, because loving Sukuna was a choice you thought was good for you. 

In the end, he was just a poison without any antidote. A toxin without remedy. The most effective solution was to sever all ties to prevent further contamination.

But strangely enough, you hadn’t seen him in his shop ever since that night, either. The tattoo parlor remained closed for more than two weeks without any notice. While a small part of you worried for him, a bigger part of you cared for yourself. He no longer held any importance to your life, and you should let it remain that way. 

What you should focus on, instead, was living your life without any trace of him. A life of independence, away from the toxicity of a manipulative man who constantly made you doubt yourself and what you offered. As they say, you have to learn to love yourself first before you can fully learn to love others. 

And in your journey of knowing the truth of that saying, a certain white-haired man entered your floral shop on a somber Friday afternoon just as you were arranging preordered bouquets for multiple customers to pick up. 

“Hey,” you greeted the man, surprised at his sudden appearance at your shop. 

Satoru grinned as he approached you closer. “I’m here to pick up two bouquets.”

“Oh, it was your order?” Your eyes widened. Silly you. Of course, Suguru would order on his friend’s behalf. He wouldn’t even get his girlfriend some flowers, let alone his mother. So this being Satoru’s order made much more sense. “Okay, you got a bouquet of blush peonies and another bouquet of pink tulips, am I correct?”

He smiled handsomely, displaying his set of perfect white teeth while listening to you talk. “Correct.” 

“For your mom?” you asked before you made your way to pick up the bouquets, handing them to him carefully. 

His response came with a soft, affirmative hum. “Mhm. One for her,” he said, taking only the bouquet of tulips, “The other is for you.” 

Oh, no, no, definitely no. You had seen this before and it didn’t go well. 

“That’s lovely, but…” You offered a smile. “I’m not taking those peonies.” 

Satoru acted innocent, his vibrant blue eyes coruscating under the ambient lights. “But it’s mother’s day.” 

You playfully shook your head. “I’m not even a mother.”

“Yes, you are,” he went on teasing, “the mother of my future kids. I like to think in advance, you know.” 

Honestly? This man started off with a bad impression on you, but he wasn’t actually so bad. He was an easygoing, happy-go-lucky person who carried positive energy around him. That, and he was decent, too. He was the type of guy your parents would have surely approved of. He was a degree holder like you, even pursuing graduate studies to run a business that was already generating an income that you could only imagine of getting. He was set for life with no uncertainty with what he wanted for his future. 

“Satoru?”

He met your gaze. “Yeah?”

“About your offer last time,” you recalled, recalling his earlier jest about teaching you some things in bed, “I think I'd like to take you up on that.”

[callsigns-haze]

hi, I was wondering if you could do a one shot, where the reader and tyler are storm chasers, but the readers ill and tyler makes her sit this chase out so she can get better. so she watches the live stream, when boone shows the tornado and it looks really bad, when suddenly the camera cuts and the reader can't get a hold of tyler or anyone else. you can pick the ending, and you don't have to do it. thank you x.

Unanswered

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: Y/N anxiously monitors a severe tornado chase from the sidelines due to illness, fearing the worst when the live stream abruptly cuts off, only to be relieved when Tyler, her partner, returns safely.

Chapter Warning: Descriptions of illness, anxiety, and intense storm danger, including a brief moment of panic.

The rolling plains stretched out endlessly under a steel-grey sky, the air thick with the tension of an impending storm. Y/N sat in the passenger seat of their truck, her usual excitement for the chase dampened by the persistent ache in her chest and the fever that refused to break. She had been trying to shake off the flu for days, but it clung to her like a stubborn cloud.

Tyler, her partner in both storm chasing and life, shot her a concerned glance as he steered the truck down the dusty backroads of Tornado Alley. They’d been tracking a supercell all morning, the energy between them usually electric during these chases, but today it was different. The worry in Tyler’s eyes had grown more intense with every cough she tried to stifle.

“Y/N, you’re in no shape to be out here,” Tyler finally said, his voice firm but gentle. “I need you to sit this one out and rest. You can follow the chase on the live stream, but I can’t focus if I’m worried about you.”

She wanted to argue, to insist that she was fine, that she could push through. But the truth was, she felt awful, and the thought of being a liability to the team gnawed at her. Reluctantly, she nodded.

“Okay,” Y/N agreed, her voice raspy. “But you have to promise me you’ll be careful. This storm looks like it could be a monster.”

Tyler gave her a reassuring smile, leaning over to press a quick kiss to her forehead. “I promise. I’ll keep you updated, and Boone will keep the live stream going so you won’t miss a thing.”

He pulled the truck to a stop near a small diner at the edge of town, where Y/N would wait out the chase. As much as it pained her to let Tyler go without her, she knew it was the right decision. She grabbed her laptop and settled into a booth, her eyes already glued to the live stream feed.

The storm was already gaining strength as Tyler and the team pushed deeper into the heart of Tornado Alley. The sky darkened ominously, and the wind began to howl, whipping dust and debris across the road. Boone, their seasoned cameraman, narrated the scene for their live stream viewers, his voice steady but tinged with excitement.

Y/N watched the stream intently, her pulse quickening with each update. The camera captured the swirling clouds, the lightning flashing in jagged arcs across the sky. The radar showed the supercell tightening, the classic hook echo indicating a tornado could drop at any moment.

Suddenly, the feed shifted, and Boone's camera zoomed in on the horizon. A dark funnel began to descend from the clouds, twisting and turning with terrifying speed.

“There it is!” Boone’s voice came through the speakers, the adrenaline evident in his tone. “We’ve got a tornado on the ground, folks. It’s a big one!”

Y/N’s heart pounded as she watched the tornado touch down, tearing across the open fields with a ferocity that made her stomach churn. The massive twister seemed to devour everything in its path, growing larger with each passing second.

Tyler’s voice crackled through the feed, giving commands to the team as they maneuverer to get a better position. But just as the team closed in, the camera suddenly jerked violently, the screen filling with static. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as the stream cut out entirely, leaving her staring at a blank screen.

“Come on, come on,” Y/N muttered, frantically refreshing the page. But the stream refused to return. She grabbed her phone and dialled Tyler’s number, her fingers trembling with fear.

The call went straight to voicemail.

“No, no, no…” Panic began to claw at Y/N’s chest as she tried Boone’s number, then the rest of the team. But every call went unanswered, the dread growing heavier with each failed attempt.

She could barely breathe as she stared at her phone, the silence around her deafening. Every second felt like an eternity. Images of the storm, the twisting tornado, flashed in her mind, and all she could think about was Tyler out there in the path of destruction.

Y/N’s mind raced, torn between the urge to jump in the truck and drive out there herself, and the knowledge that she was in no condition to help. But sitting here, doing nothing, was unbearable.

Just as she was about to give in to despair, her phone buzzed with an incoming call. Her heart leaped into her throat as she saw Tyler’s name flash on the screen.

“Tyler!” she answered, her voice choked with emotion. “What happened? Are you okay?”

There was a brief pause, and then Tyler’s voice came through, slightly shaky but alive. “Y/N, I’m okay. We’re all okay. The tornado got too close, we had to take cover. Boone lost the camera when we were scrambling to get to safety.”

Y/N exhaled a shaky breath, tears of relief streaming down her face. “I was so scared, Tyler. I thought… I thought I lost you.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Tyler said softly, his voice filled with regret. “I didn’t mean to scare you. We’re safe now. The tornado’s moved on, and we’re regrouping. We’ll be back soon.”

She closed her eyes, trying to calm her racing heart. “Just come back in one piece, okay? No more close calls.”

“I promise,” Tyler replied, the sound of his voice steadying her. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Y/N held onto the phone long after the call ended, her heart still pounding but slowly settling back into a more normal rhythm. The storm was still out there, but knowing Tyler was safe brought her a sense of calm she hadn’t felt all day.

Hours later, the door of the diner swung open, and Y/N looked up to see Tyler walking in, looking tired but unharmed. She rushed to him, wrapping her arms around him tightly, the relief overwhelming her.

He held her close, resting his chin on the top of her head. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. I should have kept you updated.”

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a small smile. “I’m just glad you’re okay. That’s all that matters.”

Tyler cupped her face in his hands, his eyes full of love and concern. “Let’s get you home. You need to rest, and I need to take care of you for a change.”

Y/N nodded, feeling the exhaustion hit her all at once. But now, with Tyler by her side, the fear and worry of the day seemed to fade into the background. They had faced the storm and come out the other side, and now all that mattered was that they were together.

As they left the diner, the storm clouds were already beginning to clear, the first hints of twilight breaking through. The danger had passed, and with it, a new appreciation for the quiet moments they could share, far from the chaos of the chase.

Requests for Tyler are open be free to send in as much as you wish!

tagging some:

@senawashere

@saviorcomplexrry

@cevansbaby-dove

@saynotononsense

@missdottie

@willowisp7

@taorislover94

@eloquenceinpurple

@86laura11

@rosiahills22

@jessicab1991

@kmc1989

@shanimallina87

@eternalsams

@teen-antisocial

@katiemcrae

[delirious-donna]

There’s A Girl In My Tub [Part Two]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

chapter summary: Kento walks in on a woman he doesn't know neck-deep in his bath. What is he meant to do now?

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: reader described as having hair that can be put in a ponytail, SFW

Part One | Series Masterlist | Part Three

The mistake was clear from the second he lunged inside the bathroom. Where he had presumed to find his younger sister submerged in his tub, sat a woman he did not know splashing and spluttering from both the shock of being jump scared and the bubbles that shot up your nose.

Kento wasn’t sure what his predominant emotion was, whether it be complete mortification for interrupting someone bathing or indignant anger at the complete stranger using his apartment like some kind of luxury hotel.

“Who the fuck are you?” The stranger half yelled, half spluttered.

Realisation dawned on him like icy dread spider walking up his spine. What had meant to be a practical joke was no longer looking so funny.

“You’re not Karin…” He said matter-of-factly.

At this point, he was simply stating the obvious. What he found interesting was the comprehension that he could see illuminated in your eyes. You might not be Karin, but you knew who she was. The connection between the two of you was what he needed to establish next, or well… after he found out your name.

“I’m Nanami Kento, and you’re in my bath. Who are you?”

His eyebrow cocked in a mixture of continued annoyance and the first hint of curiosity. Given that you were familiar with his sister meant you weren’t some crazy intruder, not that he thought that in the first place given your luggage in his room and the fact that you couldn’t have gained access without a keycard and code.

You offered your name in no more than a timid squeak, and he didn’t recognise it. He huffed a tired exhale and turned towards the door to give you a modicum of privacy. His mouth opened to speak, but you beat him to the punch, silencing him effectively with your more confident tone.

“Look, can we not hash this out whilst I am naked in your bath? Give me ten minutes, and I’ll meet you in the living area,” you enthused, hands gesticulating wildly. It sent a flurry of bubbles into the air which Kento watched before giving a curt nod of agreement and stalking out without uttering another word.

He needed a drink in the worst possible way, even if it was only early afternoon. It was going to be entirely necessary to indulge in his top-shelf liquor to help with his current predicament.

Once more, he glanced at the haphazardly packed case open on his bed. This time studying the contents a little more closely. Perhaps he should have considered doing this earlier, as one glance was enough to confirm that even the style of clothing was so unlike his sister, not to mention the stuffed animal, which he guessed resembled a bunny rabbit despite its ragged appearance. Karin hadn’t been one for stuffed toys, preferring dolls and the pretty furniture to fill ornate dollhouses growing up.

Speaking of his dearly beloved sibling, Kento fished his phone from his pocket as he made his way back to the kitchen. He cradled it between his ear and shoulder whilst selecting a crystal tumbler and a bottle of scotch. The ringing went to voicemail. Of course, it did.

“Karin, call me. I don’t appreciate surprises, and you owe me an explanation.” He kept it short and sweet, his specialty. He pushed the phone across the kitchen island and turned to lean his back against the pantry door.

What the hell was going on? He mused silently, swirling the dark amber contents of his glass before bringing it to his lips and swallowing a healthy mouthful. The liquor coated his teeth and burned his throat as it slid into his mostly empty stomach.

Everything had happened in such a rush that he couldn’t even picture your face as he waited. He hadn’t thought to get a good look at you, not when the circumstances were so intimate–vulnerable even. Not for the first time today, his palm scrubbed down his face. What must you think of him? You were this–he floundered for a moment in thinking of how to accurately describe you–young woman, naked and trapped in a room with one exit. An exit that he had blocked with his body.

He groaned, pressing the cool crystal tumbler to his temple and rolling it across his forehead. This was exactly the type of situation you saw in horror movies, except he wasn’t some crazed killer on the hunt for young virgins or any young women for that matter, but he would understand if you were fearful of him. It would only be logical.

As if summoned by thought alone, the soft pad of your socks alerted Kento that you had finished with the bath. He glanced sideways, eyeing the simple black leggings and an oversized sweater emblazoned with the logo of Karin’s college, and some pieces of the puzzle fell neatly into place.

Your hair was mostly dry except for the ends that had been splashed by the unexpected dunking they had received, the strands tied loosely into a ponytail that softened the stern expression plastered across your features.

Standing with the kitchen island between you as if it afforded you some semblance of protection, Kento tried not to smile when you folded your arms across your chest and tilted your chin in his direction. The sleeves of your sweater engulfed your arms so completely that only the tips of your fingers showed. He admired your courage in the face of a stranger, a male one at that, and one that could likely impose his height and weight against you if he so inclined. Sure, he admired it, but it was also incredibly dumb.

“Did you enjoy your soak?” He asked, taking another sip of scotch to hide the quirk of his lips.

Your eyes narrowed. Damn, he hadn’t felt amusement like this in the longest time. Some would claim that he didn’t have a funny bone in his body, but they were wrong. Kento simply didn’t entertain cheap humour, and this situation was far from bargain basement.

“I was. That is until this massive oaf leapt inside screaming like a maniac and scaring the life out of me.”

That was enough to wipe the smile from his face. Kento straightened and set his tumbler down. He ran a hand through his hair and endeavoured to end this charade right here and now. To hell with the fact that you amused him, he didn’t know you from Adam.

“How do you know Karin? And I am not an oaf, for the record,” he added with what sounded even to him as a touch of petulance.

You rolled your eyes. “She’s my friend, maybe even best friend, actually. We go to the same college, different majors though. How do you know her? Are you her dad or something?”

It was Kento’s turn to narrow his eyes. He could see it for what it was, a direct jab at him, but you didn’t truly believe he could possibly be her father, or at least he hoped not!

You picked at your nails whilst the silence lingered on. He debated whether to rise above your petty attempts at riling him, but something stopped him. Kento was the level-headed one, always reasonable, however, something about you crept beneath his skin.

“Can’t be that much of a best friend if you don’t even know that she has a brother… that would be me, by the way. Hi. I’m the brother, and this is my apartment. I do hope this is some kind of elaborate joke.”

Sure enough, his aim was true. Your face crumpled at the truth he laid out so cruelly. Instead of feeling some sense of triumph for gaining the upper hand, he resigned to the guilt settling heavily in his chest. He almost rubbed at his heart but stopped at the last second.

Why did he care? That’s what he really wanted to know. Yes, you were cute. He was a man after all, he could appreciate your soft feminine features, but he was hardly known as a man who sought out the company of the opposite sex often.

Kento pinched the bridge of the nose. It was upsetting to watch you fold in upon yourself like this, your shoulders hunched inward and your head bowed low. He cared, and that was surprising. He wished for that spark of confidence to ignite again, longing to kick himself for being the one to douse it in the first place.

“I’m… I’m sorry. That was cruel of me, but you did call me her dad!” He tried to rationalise his outburst, and he was glad when your head snapped up to scrutinise him. “We’ve started on the wrong foot. Can you blame me for acting a little irrational? I’ve never found an intruder in my home before, let alone a naked one in my bath. Why are you here?”

Without a word, you stretched out a hand for his near-empty glass, swallowing down the remnants in one gulp. You hissed through your teeth, dancing on the spot whilst the potent alcohol slid into your belly to warm you. Kento cocked his eyebrow but chose to remain silent.

He had so many questions. Why you were here in his home was curiously not at the top of the pile, but it seemed inappropriate to be querying your age and probing your interests at this point in the conversation. Not to mention, you were his sister’s friend, nothing more.

Nothing more, Kento.

“Well, your darling sister told me this was her place, and that it was empty right now. Clearly, neither part was true, and I will be taking that up with her as soon as she answers her damn phone!”

“Hm, so Karin is avoiding your calls too. Curious.”

You blew out a long breath, the strands of hair framing your face dancing around and… Kento glanced away, refusing to acknowledge the desire to fix them behind your ear.

“Aren’t you on spring break? Why aren’t you shacked up in some overly loud and raucous resort? I’m certain that’s where Karin will be right about now.” Kento rolled his eyes at even thinking about it. He well remembered his years in college and how he loathed this time of year. It was his idea of hell.

Scrunching your nose in distaste, you walked around the edge of the kitchen island and hopped up to sit yourself closer to him. Again, he cursed your trust. He could be lying to you. He could have nefarious intent. So why did it make him want to protect you all the more?

“No thanks. I’d rather catch up on some classes and prepare for the new semester, but…” You trailed off, eyes lowering to your fingers which continued to fidget incessantly–an annoying habit he noted.

“But what?” Kento got the sense that he wasn’t going to like your answer much. He braced for it, both palms flush on the marble countertop and coaxing you into maintaining his steady eye contact.

“I don’t have anywhere else I can go. My parents are renovating, and I can’t afford to rent a place for two weeks, at least not somewhere actually habitable.”

Kento froze as the weight of your words washed over him. There was a chance that Karin was truly being a good friend since she had been aware of the business trip he was meant to be on right now. It would be so like her to help out a friend in need.

Was he meant to toss you out on your ass? He was within his rights, of course, but could his conscience allow it? It was obvious you weren’t lying or exaggerating to gain his favour, you looked just as uncomfortable telling him the truth as he did hearing it. This whole situation was a mess, and he didn’t see a clear way out of it.

Well, shit…

[kayjaywrites]

Like Bugs in a Rug: Chapter One

Summary: Azriel Shadowsinger, mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, was head over heels in love with you for years. Everyone in the room could see it, except for you of course. A series of connected one-shots.

Chapter Word Count: 6,350 Chapter Music Inspo: End of It - Friday Pilots Club

Chapter Content Warnings: fluff, some cursing, one bed trope, awkward but wholesome communication, AFAB Reader, Reader (You), some details about Reader's appearance but overall vague, canon plot spoilers as this is canon compliant-ish, reader low key being thirsty for Azzie

Note: Hello! Welcome to my first fic in like 10 years! This idea came about when I was having a hard time falling back asleep. I sometimes draft fanfiction when i'm trying to sleep. I don't often remember the plots come morning, but the memory of this one remained intact enough for me to jot down. I’m thinking this update is gonna be the longest chapter because it's both prologue and the first chapter, but I have terrible self control with word count limits. So I guess we’ll see what the next chapters bring, but they may be shorter!

Enjoy me 2am fugue state musings, there are likely typos~

XxXx

Prologue

It was all worth it. The decades of patience and silent suffering. The centuries of loneliness paying off just as you lost hope of ever leaving The Court of Nightmares. You and your father, Kier, expected a typical visit from the Inner Circle. The High Lord would threaten your father to keep him in line, you’d go unnoticed in the back of the throne room monitoring the interaction. Just like every other time they visited.

Except, the High Lord and his Inner Circle asked about you like you were the reason behind their visit. You had clocked the visit as odd as soon as only Rhysand, Feyre, and Mor arrived. The absence of both The General & Shadowsinger at the same time a rarity. Despite being related to Rhysand and Mor, you didn’t think they knew your name, so when they asked Kier about you, by name, your heart damn near fell out of your ass.

They wanted you to leave Hewn City to work with them. A Courtier of the Night Court, working alongside Nesta, Lady Death herself, of all people. They wanted you to start immediately now that the war with Hybern was over. Relations between Courts were strained, and upon learning of your talent, the High Lord deemed it a waste for you to be hidden away down here. He and the Inner Circle believed you did not belong in The Court of Nightmares. To anyone else, having the High Lord speak so highly of your child would have been an honor.

It was the most furious you’d ever seen Kier. Which was saying something. His emotions grew volatile in a blink of an eye, outraged by the absolute gall of the High Lord. How dare he come to his city and tell him that you weren’t meeting your full potential down here? At some point Kier stood up, snarling at Rhysand and the others like a wild animal. Kier, so lost in his anger, let his mental shields falter. Just for a second, but it was more than enough time for your powers to draw his wayward thoughts to you, like a magnet, his unspoken intentions seeped into your own mind. You were always terrible at blocking him out when he got like that.

Power. Kier's thoughts whispered to you. A spy for him in the Inner Circle.

It disgusted you how predictable your father was, his intentions were always about how he could best use you for his own gain. It was the driving force behind your excessive training habits, desperate to protect yourself from the toxicity of his intentions. The more you failed at keeping him out, the more you hated him, and by default hated yourself.

Rhysand was right, you were wasted down here, and it wasn’t that your father didn’t see that, he didn’t care. He wasn’t furious with the High Lord for taking another daughter away from him, he was mad about losing a tool.

Well, your father could rot down here alone for all you cared.

You felt a lot of things in that moment. Intimidated by the prospect of working with Nesta, unsure of Mor’s morals and the rumors surrounding her, apprehensive of Rhysand and Feyre’s power, and not to mention all the unknown dynamics between the rest of the Inner Circle. But, despite all that uncertainty, you did not feel nervous about leaving Hewn City with them.

The first task Kier ever appointed you was to report on Rhysand and his Inner Circle’s intentions every time they visited. Either they all had flawless control over their mental shields, or their icy behavior was an act from the beginning. You never dared to share your suspicions with Kier, your father only wanted ammo for his hate, and he never took kindly to evidence that didn’t support his biases against High Lord Rhysand.

It felt a little too much like blind faith and a hunch for you to be 100% comfortable with the decision, but you decided to put your trust in these strangers anyway.

You would take the job.

Not to be a spy for Kier.

Not out of some duty to your High Lord or older sister.

It was time to live your life for you. Consequences be damned.

But, the focus of this story was not about moving to Velaris with Mor and getting to know the Inner Circle. It wasn’t about how much you rock as a diplomat for the Night Court. It wasn’t about how good it felt the first time sunlight touched your skin upon leaving the underground city. It wasn’t even about how you and Nesta became best friends. However good those stories may be.

However, this story is about Azriel Shadowsinger, and how the mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, fell head over heels for you without you ever picking up on it. Yeah, that’s right, the girl who struggled to control her talent for hearing unspoken intentions never puzzled the pieces together. For literal years everyone else in the godforsaken room could tell the Spymaster was in love with you, except for you.

...one year and a couple months later....

It all started with an argument with Rhysand a few assignments into your career as the Night Court Courtier. You felt like you could handle traveling between Courts without needing an escort, especially if you’d be meeting up with Nesta at the destination anyway. Rhysand did not agree, basically threatening to ground you if you didn’t allow someone to accompany you.

That was how Azriel had become your full-time travel partner. Rhysand appointed Azriel as an additional escort in case Nesta was pulled away.

You’d take this to your grave before ever admitting it, but Rhysand wasn’t wrong to be worried. There had been a good number of times where just that had happened. Nesta would be working the other side of the room, and having Azriel lingering nearby eased your nerves. Prythian was a vast Realm, and Rhys had been right in worrying about your adjustment.

It didn’t take too long for you to adapt once you had visited all the different Courts a few times. Yet, Azriel continued to go out of his way to accompany you to events. The first obvious sign of his affections for you came a little over a year into your career.

The event was in a small Day Court town on the border of the Night Court, just under a day’s travel from Velaris on foot. Home to one of the libraries hit hardest by Amarantha’s looting, the entire town was celebrating the return of a sizable chunk of the stolen volumes. The gala was advertised to be a quaint dinner and cocktail hour. You suspected that scholars and book enthusiasts would be the bulk of those present. Although interested in going, Rhysand had High Lord duties to attend to that involved Nesta and the other Archeron sisters in the Summer Court. With a promise to fill everyone in on anything of interest, you packed a small overnight bag and waited for Mor to arrive home. You never developed the ability to winnow, so you needed someone to bring you.

Fussing with your hair in one of the numerous mirrors decorating Mor’s walls, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection. Your time in Velaris, just over two years, had already begun to sooth a deep sadness you hadn’t realized had settled under your skin. It was obvious in the gentle way you gazed at your reflection, the healthy flush of your cheeks, and the warmth of your thoughts. Velaris looked good on you, and as you smoothed a hand down the shimmery sapphire blue fabric of the dress that clung to your curves, you thought the new formalwear looked good on you too.

Giddiness bubbled up in you at the idea of modeling the new dress for Mor. The excitement felt foreign still, after spending centuries believing Mor didn’t care to know her own little sister. You never thought you’d ever get the chance to gush over dresses with her. Kier hated everything Mor represented, and was cruel to her in ways that made you feel lucky in a perverse way. Your father may have manipulated and alienated you, filling your head with lies about your older sister, but it was never public. Kier made sure everyone in the Court of Nightmares knew that Mor was a useless whore and a traitor.

When Mor became a core member of the Inner Circle, and Rhysand put her in charge of Hewn City, you would wait for her to acknowledge you during her visits. Decades turned into a century, but the same hope would always rise up when Mor was due for a visit, only to be crushed when she ignored you. She never paid you a second of her time, just a fleeting look in passing as if you were another spectator. Knowing that she wasn’t ignoring you out of ill intent stung more, because you couldn’t bring yourself to hate her.

Kier may be your father, but that didn’t mean you had to be a fan of his intentions. You never believe the rumors he spread about Mor.

And then, the big reveal came. It turned out that to Mor, you were just another spectator. Mor didn’t know she had a younger sister at all. Keir hid you so well that no one realized you were related to him. A detail that made you feel so small when it came to light. You were just the shy woman in the background, taught to be pleasant when spoken to, a pretty little wallflower the rest of the time.

Later, when you asked about who first realized your identity, you got mixed accounts from the Inner Circle. Rhysand insisted that it was he who put the pieces together first. Stating that it came to him suddenly after Azriel submitted a report from a surveillance mission detailing an overheard conversation between you and Kier about your talents. Rhysand claimed that your powers reminded him of a variation of Mor’s. The rest of the Inner Circle credited Feyre for noting the resemblance between you, Kier, and The Morrigan the first time she noticed you loitering at the back of a council meeting.

When the truth was confirmed, and you agreed to go with them, Mor wept. She vowed to never leave you alone in The Court of Nightmares ever again, even for a second. That promise was your first experience with making a deal in the Night Court. Your clear surprise at the intricate tattoo that branded itself over the center of your sternum clued Mor, Rhysand, and Feyre in on how out of touch you were with common lore from your own Court. Mor wasted no time in winnowing you out of there after that. The both of you had heard enough of Keir’s nasty sneers and low-blow comments to last a lifetime.

Now, Mor’s cozy little home was also your cozy little home, if not a bit tight for two people. If someone asked you a decade ago if you thought you’d ever have a relationship with Mor you would advise them to seek out a healer.

And yet there you were, vibrating with things to tell her, anticipating her arrival with an almost goofy grin when…Azriel of all people winnowed into the living room.

Perplexed, but not totally disappointed, “Oh!” you said, clearly taken aback. “I was expecting Mor.”

Azriel huffed a low chuckle, dimples bracketing his amused half-smile. “Sorry to disappoint.”

You looked him over, dark circles under his eyes, droopy eyelids, posture leaning forward in a slight slouch. “Az, didn’t you just return from a long mission? Why aren’t you resting?”

“Wanted to escort you to the Day Court Library Gala, of course.”

The tenderness in his voice had warmth bubbling up from your chest. “That is very kind,” you started, making sure to meet his gaze so he knew you meant it, “but you look so tired, Az. I’ve visited the Day Court a bunch of times now and only need someone to winnow me there. As much as I enjoy having you accompany me to these things, I don’t want you to stretch yourself thin on my account. I’ve got this.”

“I know you’ve got this,” came his immediate reply, “as you’ve pointed out I’ve been gone for a few weeks. What if I offered to escort you because I missed you, hm?”

Despite yourself you felt a flush of heat in your cheeks at his teasing. You refused to use your powers on anyone in the inner circle, unwilling to violate their privacy without explicit consent. But you didn’t need your powers to read Azriel’s sincerity. It made it hard to meet his gaze, you turned back to running your fingers through your hair in the mirror, taking a moment to compose yourself. “Well alright then, I don’t think I can do anything more to tame my hair, we should be off then.”

You felt Azriel at your back, a gloved hand coming up to gently grasp your elbow, guiding your arm down as his hand trailed down the bare skin of your forearm to hold yours, turning you to face him. “Stop fussing, you look stunning, this dress is new, right? I think the color suits you.”

You smiled. “Thank you, I suppose you would like this color, now that I’m thinking about it,” with your free hand you held up the skirt of the floor length dress to the siphon on his wrist, marveling at the color match, “it looks like I did it on purpose.”

He hummed in acknowledgement as he pulled you closer into an almost embrace. “We should go now. Wouldn’t want to miss the opening speeches.”

You suppressed a shudder. Definitely from the way his breath tickled your ear, and not from the way his voice sounded as he tucked you into his chest. “You hate opening speeches.” You pointed out, remembering all the times he complained about how boring they were.

“I do, but you like them.” You’d never said as much aloud, but you did enjoy listening to people talk about things they were passionate about, and opening speeches tended to be just that. Of course the Spymaster had noticed.

If Azriel saw your smile before you hid your face against his leather-clad pec he didn’t let on. You pulled your hands free and looped your arms around his middle, clasping your fingers together under the base of his wings.

“I’m ready then, thank you for coming with me.” Your voice was muffled, unwilling to tilt your head up to talk to him in case your maddening blush was there. It didn’t seem to matter how many times you winnowed with Az, your whole face would go cherry red. Something Cassian never failed to poke fun at whenever he witnessed it.

Azriel wrapped his arms tightly around you, your body now flush to his. You focused on the sound of his wings rustling as he tucked them in closer. Anything to distract from the way your pulse spiked when you felt his lips brush against the crown of your head, his hold on you gentle, yet firm and protective as darkness folded around the both of you.

XxXx

Neither you nor Azriel realized the issue with your room reservation until much too late. Upon arrival in The Day Court the both of you hurried to the event. The gala wrapped up around midnight, and like most of the other guests staying in town, you and Azriel retired back to the nearby Inn. With your strappy heels in hand and a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, you felt positively bubbly. Paused in front of your room, you let Azriel rummage through the small black purse at your side for the key. After almost leading them into the wrong room, Azriel took it upon himself to find the correct room and unlock the door.

Minutes later you were still trying to suppress a smile at how Azriel reacted with such mortification when he realized you’d led them to the wrong room. The mental image of the great Shadowsinger so frantic in his efforts to stop you from further jostling the doorknob, had you letting out a laugh before you could stop it.

“It’s not funny.” He grumbled as he swung the wooden door to your room open, leading you inside. You were on the verge of poking fun at him some more when you caught a glimpse of the interior layout. Right, you had RSVP’d expecting to attend the gala alone. The realization sobered you up real fast.

The room was small, burgundy curtains concealing a sizable window, antique desk with tourist flyers stacked in a neat pile on top. A queen sized, four post bed situated in the middle of the room.

“I’ll take the floor—” Azriel started saying.

But you interrupted him. “—you should have the bed.”

“Absolutely not, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let a lady sleep on the floor while I hogged the whole bed.” He nodded, as if the conversation was over, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes at him.

“There’s not even enough space on the floor for you to stretch out Az. The room is basically only bed. It’s fine, I can use my extra clothes—”

You inhaled sharply, tensing at the thought of your overnight bag, left forgotten back at Mor's apartment. Your eyes darted to Azriel, meeting his gaze out of the corner of your eye, and you knew you didn’t need to say anything about it as he scoffed under his breath.

“You forgot your bag.” He observed.

Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair, your tight dress feeling like it was constricting around your chest as you contemplated sleeping in it. “I did indeed forget my bag.”

“We could just go back, we don’t have to stay here for the night.” Azriel pointed out, but the thought of cutting the trip short caused a ripple of disappointment to drop in your stomach.

“Or,” he continued with a hint of amusement, “I have an undershirt beneath my leathers. I changed before I met you at Mor’s, so it’s relatively clean. I was going to sleep in it tonight, but I would sacrifice my shirt for you if it meant you’d stop frowning like that.”

If you thought you were anxious before, Azriel’s suggestion sent your anxiety through the roof. You had always found Azriel attractive, even when you were still living in Hewn City. Who wouldn’t? That attraction grew into a bit of a crush when you first arrived in Velaris. He treated you with such care as you adjusted to living above ground, quiet, patient, and thoughtful.

Once it was apparent that you would be working closely with him you shut that shit down. You and him had spent a lot of time traveling together the last few years, always with separate sleeping arrangements, and never sharing clothing. You went out of your way to respect his privacy, give him space, all in hopes of being someone he one day could trust, like how you trusted him.

You could handle one night, sharing a bed, borrowing his shirt. That wouldn’t totally backfire on you in any way, right? Nodding to yourself once, you tried for an air of confidence as you talked around the nerves that have bloomed in your chest.

“Okay,” you agreed, “but if I change into your shirt you definitely can’t take the floor. I won’t let you sleep shirtless on the ground while I’m all tucked in and cozy in bed. I’ll only take up a sliver of it by myself anyway.”

He opened his mouth to object, his intentions written in the way his brow furrowed at you. But you barreled on anyway, “So, we share the bed tonight. Are you comfortable with that?”

His mouth snapped shut, eyes studying you for a tense moment as if you may be tricking him. You clasped your hands together in front of you, the longer you waited for him to respond the clammier your palms felt. Each second felt like an eternity and in no time at all you found yourself scrambling for a way to play off your idea as a joke.

Of course he wouldn’t want to share a bed with you. What in the world had you been thinking?

Maybe you could blame it on that deliciously fizzy drink you downed before leaving the gala, say you weren’t in your right mind. Pretend to not remember in the morning, as if this wasn’t going to be a moment you cringe about decades later. Would you be able to just laugh it off? Would Azriel be chill enough to let you live this down? You were probably so screwed.

He was still a little tense, but just before your panic truly took root Azriel began to nod his head like he...agreed with you?

“Yes, I think that is the most logical solution. The bed can definitely fit two.” Azriel finally said, and you tried to keep yourself from gaping at his response. But your surprise must have been all over your face because he went on to say, “I didn’t suggest it myself because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Wiping your hands down the front of your dress did little to help with the sweat. The pit that had been taking form in your stomach churned, your dread morphing into jittery nerves.

Then, as if you weren’t having a nervous breakdown right in front of him, the handsome lunatic started striping his leathers off. Dept hands tossing his gloves to the desk, he unclasped the chest pieces of his leathers, they fell to the floor with a thud. Then, the promised black undershirt was up over his head, and you were drinking in all his tattoos and corded muscles like you were a tactless teenager instead of a 300+ year old female.

A flash of movement from him, and you flinched when his shirt hit you square in the face. It was so big it draped over your head. You made a disgruntled noise, ignoring how delicious the shirt smelled as you removed it from your face, “Hey—!”

“If you’re done gawking at me like you’ve never seen a shirtless male, you can get ready for bed first.” He headed further into the room, collecting his chest piece off the floor and approaching the desk to place it with his gloves. He turned to face you, his butt propped against the desk as he gestured to the door his wingspan had been blocking from view. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, flexing his biceps, and you almost swooned at the sight. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Your fist tightened around the shirt, fighting the urge to toss it back at him out of spite. Embarrassment felt like hot iron under your skin, so instead you snapped your attention to the door he had pointed out–the bathroom. You knew you’d averted your gaze much too fast to seem unaffected by him. He chuckled, and you glowered at him as his head tilted to the side, watching you with a bemused expression. He looked about ready to comment further, but you waved him off with faux-annoyance and an exaggerated roll of your eyes. Clutching his shirt close to your chest, you escaped into the bathroom.

Subtle.

Pressing your back to the door, it closed under your weight. You paused there for a moment to focus on your breathing, your frazzled mind going a mile a minute. This was all so far out of your comfort zone, it wasn’t even funny. You never had to deal with handsome males in The Court of Nightmares, Kier didn’t let you socialize long enough for it to even be on your radar. Dating hadn’t quite made your list of top priorities upon arriving in Velaris either.

What little experience you did have was with a male named Allistair. You’d met him at Rita’s within your first year above ground. It was a fling of sorts that lasted a few months before you decided casual dating wasn’t for you. He was a perfectly adequate lover. At least you think he was. He was also your only lover. A nice enough companion as you acclimated to your new life. The times you had been intimate with that male had left you feeling…bereft. Seeing Allistair shirtless had been nothing like seeing Azriel shirtless.

And Azriel calling you out for ogling him so blatantly? Mother have mercy.

So now you were just expected to fall asleep next to him wearing his shirt after that? The situation almost made you want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. The last thing you wanted was to draw his suspicion by loitering against the door for too much longer, so you moved to the sink. Maybe splashing lukewarm water on your face would reveal that this had all been a weird ass nightmare.

Cupping water into your face a couple more times, you took in the smeared makeup dripping down your face in the mirror. Definitely not a dream.

Azriel was going to think you were in love with him for fucksake.

Snatching the nearby hand towel from the rack on the wall you soaked it, and got to work on scrubbing your face clean. You had to have a little more faith in Azriel. He wouldn’t let a single weird moment ruin over a year of amicable teamwork. But your personal relationship with him felt fragile to you at best. You can't let some tattoos and abs mess up what you considered to be the most solid friendship you’d made among the Inner Circle.

So what if he was hot as hell? You could co-exist with attractive people, it was legit a part of your job. You could salvage the situation, just change out of the dress you accidentally matched to the colors of his siphons, put his shirt on that smelled so strongly of him it gave you a headrush, and face him like you hadn't just been drooling over his naked chest.

You know, simple.

The hem of his t-shirt landed just above your knees, and the comfort you found in it was criminal. The black fabric was very soft and so baggy that you worried the wing slits in the back would shift forward in your sleep. It could reveal a little more than what you’d considered 'tasteful side boob'.

Resisting the urge to fuss in the mirror (because it wasn't like you were trying to look cute for anyone, right?), you exited the bathroom clean faced and a bit more settled than when you had entered.

Your bravado, however, was short lived. Azriel faced away from you in only his underwear, the rest of his leathers added to the pile on the desk. He was organizing his various knives on the bedside table closest to the main door.

He looked over his shoulder at you. Totally not catching you checking out his butt in the tight underpants. Cauldron boil you. Would it be weird if you marched yourself back into the bathroom to try the whole “not affected by sexy, almost nude Illyrian warrior” thing again?

Azriel inhaled sharply, and you snuck a glance at him. His attention was back on his knives, but there was a tension to him, almost like he was brooding. There might have been a light blush over his cheeks, but you felt weird analyzing him anymore than you already had out of habit. You clocked the change in his body language for what it was the instant he saw you in his shirt. Clenched jaw, tense shoulders, spine ramrod straight, wide eyed before averting his gaze, elevated heart rate–classic signs of attraction. Reactions he clearly didn’t want you to notice.

"I'm taking this side." He informed almost absently, patting the mattress. Leaving you with the window side.

You wandered to the desk to avoid observing him further, wishing that you could turn off the part of you that always seemed to be prying for more information. And then you felt it, his thoughts getting louder, his emotions growing wilder, reaching out to you. You slammed your mental shields up hard, a gross feeling taking root when it was too late.

Protect. Azriel’s intentions conveyed to you. Protect. Comfort. Provide. Here you were invading his private thoughts without his knowledge, while he was concerned with your wellbeing. What was the point of all that effort Rhysand put into teaching you how to better control your mental shields? It never worked when you needed it most. The failure stung, and you had to busy yourself with folding your dress in a neat square so you had something to keep your hands from shaking.

It was quiet for too long, and you struggled with recalling what he had said to you before you’d lost control. Something about the bed. "Sounds good to me." You decide on saying, placing your dress next to his leathers.

Azriel didn’t seem to find your reply out of the ordinary. Small mercies.

"I'll be out in a few minutes, then." His voice was rougher than before, and it sent chills down your spine. As soon as you heard the bathroom door click shut you scurried into bed. You couldn’t get under the covers fast enough, pulling the blankets up to your neck with a hefty sigh of relief.

It felt awesome to be laying down after such a long evening on your feet. Too bad you couldn’t enjoy it more, instead drowning under waves of shame. Maybe you’d never get a full handle on your powers. Maybe the Mother was teaching you a lesson in this life? You couldn’t fathom what the moral could be. You wanted more than anything to be able to mind your business.

You wished you could turn your brain off. Alas, even your guilt couldn’t stop you from reflecting and organizing what you’d just observed. Not only had you heard his intentions, but you also felt them. Unlike the sweet warmth of his thoughts, his gaze had felt like desire and bad decisions.

He didn’t seem like he was actively seeking to bed you. You reasoned that you were also an available female wearing nothing but his shirt and a pair of panties. You could only imagine how all of that must have chafed against his Illyrian instincts. Rhysand had once mentioned that Illyrians were possessive and protective at best, controlling and jealous at their worst.

Surely those possessive instincts were what you were picking up on, then. You were covered in his scent after all. That was the only logical explanation for his reaction, his instincts were telling him to protect you because you were vulnerable and wearing his clothing. Even if it didn’t quite sound right to you, it was the only explanation you were willing to entertain. You were barely friends, there was no way Azriel wanted to court you. The thought sent a fleeting pang of disappointment through you that you refused to examine.

Whatever. There wasn’t anything you could do to make the situation less messy right now. You were exhausted, and stewing on scenarios that would never amount to anything real was unlike you.

Snuggling further into the sheets, you decided it was best to just pretend you hadn’t noticed shit. The damage was done, Azriel wasn’t dumb, he at least knew he had flustered you. You weren’t going to draw any more attention to that tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever. Everything about this night was a fluke.

Azriel returned from the bathroom, and you kept your focus on fluffing your pillows. Sitting up you tossed an extra pillow onto the floor, and you could feel as soon as his eyes landed on you that some of his…instincts…were still acting up. You pulled the comforter back up to your neck as he got into bed next to you. Turning on your side to face him you were determined to be normal. No more awkward gawking allowed tonight.

He stretched his arms up above his head, his joints popping a million times as he groaned in relief. You couldn't help chuckling at him, the fearsome Shadowsinger of the Night Court, doing something so mundane.

Scooting further onto the bed, Azriel rolled over to meet your gaze, his wings tucked close to his back as he settled. Most of his wingspan spilled over the side of the bed anyway. He surveyed you, eyes lingering along your tired but genuine smile, and you saw the stern tenseness slowly leave his body. "You sure you're comfortable with this?" He asked.

Your smile turned a tad warmer. This male was just so kind, so different from what you knew in Hewn City. "I am, I trust you Azriel." It was the truth. You didn't have friends growing up, and although you may have a long way to go before Azriel truly called you his friend, you considered him a dear (sexy) friend.

Your words seem to settle something in him, and you could have sworn you saw something almost affectionate flash across his face. You blink, and it's gone, but the fuzzy feeling it left in your chest remained.

Like he sensed your mushy thoughts, he ruined the moment. "So I have to ask you something, it’s serious.”

Your brows raised in bemused interest, the scenario with him wishing to court you snapping to the forefront of your mind again. He’d always been very attentive to you, but in a worried protective way. You’d never picked up on any romantic intentions from him before, and he’s not the type to make a decision like that on a whim. The chance was small, but you couldn’t 100% rule out him wanting to ask you out. Could you say no to him? Would you even want to say no? You’d never considered this as an option before!

He held your gaze, as if for dramatic effect and then with the seriousness of a top notch spymaster he asked you, “You have seen a shirtless male before...right?"

Maybe it was a mistake to consider this male kind, he was a menace all along.

You had never rolled your eyes so hard at someone. Unbelievable.

Turning away from him with enough force to toss your hair in his face, you are rewarded with the sound of his indignant grunt.

"Can you turn the light off please?" You snap, unable to rein in your annoyance. Unsettled by how it tasted almost like rejection.

"You didn't answer my question." He goaded, and you fell right for it.

"Yeah, because it's a silly question." You fire back.

He hummed at your response, "Doesn't seem like you think it's a silly question."

You would rather swallow your own tongue than admit to Azriel that you’d seen shirtless males, but he had been the first you’d enjoyed seeing shirtless.

Done with the line of questioning, you blindly flung your arm back, swatting at him. He startled at the contact, and he exhaled a scoff when you didn't stop flopping your arm at him after the first blow.

He caught your wrist, stilling your flailing. "Fine, fine, I'll drop it," He let go of your wrist, “for now.”

You shifted to burrow further into your pillows, totally not dwelling on how his big hand wrapped around your wrist made you feel dainty. The texture of his scars hadn’t made your heart skip a beat either. Nope. Not at all.

"Could you shut the light off please." You asked again with more venom than you intended. It bothered you how easy this male could get under your skin. He wasn’t even trying.

You felt his weight shifting, the bed frame squeaking a bit as he moved. "Anything for you, Princess." He shuffled a little more, and then the light went off, casting the both of you in darkness.

The nickname made you grimace into your pillow. No one had ever called you that before, and you really didn’t want it to catch on.

You felt him return to the position on his side facing you. Some moments passed in loud silence, and although you were the one that let the conversation drop, the residual tension in the room was killing you. There was no way you would be able to fall asleep, and you would bet that Azriel was stewing in the tension too.

"Az?" You whispered. His response was quick like he’d been waiting on edge for you to speak, "Yes?"

"Goodnight." And you found yourself meaning it. You hoped he got some sleep tonight despite the turmoil he had so effortlessly sowed in your stomach with his teasing. The prick.

You could practically hear the mischief in his voice. "Sleep well, princess."

Ugh. Your stomach coiled, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. Very dangerous. It was an inappropriate reaction, and you wrote it off as stress. However as hard as you wished to forget it, you wouldn’t be forgetting how Azriel had made you feel that night anytime soon.

Even your racing thoughts couldn’t stop sleep from finding you, putting you out of your misery.

And if you woke up to the sounds of song birds that morning, your face pressed against Azriel's neck, your body sprawled atop him while he slept on his back, then that was your business. No one would know if you relished being in his arms a few minutes longer than necessary. You wouldn’t confirm nor deny if one of his hands had looped through a wing hole of his borrowed shirt, his fingers resting just under your breast.

And so what if it had been the best sleep you'd gotten since leaving Hewn City. And if Azriel seemed more well rested than usual on your return to the Night Court, you certainly didn't notice that either.

XxXx

Next Chapter

[simplygojo]

The Devil He Made Me - Ch. 4

Authors Note: I am personally loving this series, so I really hope you guys are too. Thank you for all the kind words about this series so far. LOVE YOU <33

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f/reader

Series Summary : After being found by Gojo and his first year students in a sticky situation, y/n joins Jujutsu High under the close supervision of Gojo. As time passes, the two of you become close, with a strong unspoken bond forming as you work together. Although, there is something dark looming over the situation, and those at Jujutsu High are determined to get to the bottom of it, before it is too late.

Chapter Summary : Y/n continues training with the first-years, while Gojo grows increasingly protective of her. In order to become more useful, y/n works hard at developing her cursed energy into a cursed technique. With this development comes more complications with those suspicious of y/n and the forest incident. 

Taglist: @mawhoreagaa; @peqch-pie; @blue-serendipity; @simplyyyuji; If you'd like to be added to the taglist, leave a comment to let me know :)

Word Count : 5.1k

Warnings : Seggusal tension increasinggggg, nothing else yet tho hehe.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

There was darkness all around, an oppressive weight that felt like it was closing in. 

Your breaths came in short gasps as you ran, feet pounding against the wet earth, but no matter how fast you moved, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was following you. It wasn’t a person—at least, not entirely. 

You were back in the forest.

You stood up, looking over your shoulder to see a man standing behind you. Dark and intense cursed energy oozed from him. You couldn’t breathe, as if there was something blocking your airway. 

Clawing at your throat—gasping for breath—you started running away from the mysterious man. 

Suddenly, your foot caught on something, and you fell hard into the mud. Then, a piercing pain immobilized you—it felt like your stomach was ripping itself apart.

When finally managed to open your eyes, you saw him again. But a bright light cast a shadow over his face. 

That's when you felt it. 

A dark manifestation of cursed energy. It crackled like electricity, twisting and coiling around your arms, burning through your skin.

You screamed, trying to shake it off, but it only grew stronger, surging through you with a force you couldn’t control. It was inside you, seeping out, and no matter what you did, it wouldn’t stop. 

Your eyes shot open.

You were back in your room at Jujutsu High, breathless and disoriented, heart still pounding in your chest. The nightmare clung to you for a few seconds before dissolving like smoke, leaving behind only the sensation of that cursed energy—the one you still didn’t fully understand. 

You sat up in bed, a cold layer of sweat coating your body. Who was that? 

You squeezed your eyes shut, desperate to remember anything from that nightmare. But it all faded away.

It was just a dream—but it felt real.

—

After a night of no sleep, you decided to head out and begin training. Gojo had mentioned he wanted you to begin training early today. Since your flare of cursed energy at the graveyard, you were both somewhat eager to see what else you could do. You had to figure out a way to gain some sort of control over your situation. 

The sunlight filtered through the trees, dappling the outdoor training grounds with a soft, golden hue. 

You stood with your feet planted firmly on the dirt of the outdoor arena, eyes closed as you tried to focus. It was early, and the others were allowed to sleep in today because of their work last night on exorcising the curses at the graveyard, so it was just you and Gojo training for the next hour.

“Eventually, your cursed energy will manifest itself into a technique. Which will be the main way you can use it to fight curses.” Gojo explained as he typed something into his phone. 

You nodded, but at your core, you didn’t know if you could do this. 

You could feel his arrogant attitude from where you stood in the training arena. “Try not to blow up the place, alright?”

Rolling your eyes, you had scoffed at him. But, as you stood with cursed energy swirling aimlessly around your fingers, you couldn’t help but feel frustrated. 

It was still so unpredictable, and each time you tried to harness it, it either fizzled out or spiralled into chaos. 

You didn’t want to hurt anyone.

“Okay, come on,” you muttered to yourself, taking a deep breath and stretching out your fingers as you centred the energy into your palm. 

The cursed energy crackled like static against your skin, bright blue sparks shimmering along the edges. Your brow furrowed in concentration. But just as quickly as it flared up, the energy dispersed with a soft pop, leaving nothing but a faint tingle in its wake.

“Dammit,” you whispered under your breath. Your frustration beginning to grow.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Gojo’s voice floated over, his footsteps light as he approached. He had a knack for appearing at just the right (or wrong) moment, and it wasn’t surprising to see him standing a few feet away with that infuriatingly calm smile on his face. “Takes time to control it.”

You glanced at him, wiping the sweat off your brow. “I feel like I’m not getting anywhere with it.” 

You had been out here, trying to harness your cursed energy into something useful since sunrise, which must have been hours ago.

“You’re getting somewhere,” Gojo said easily, crossing his arms as his blindfold caught the glint of the sun. 

His voice dropped into that familiar teasing tone. “Besides, it’s not every day I get to see you all frustrated like this. Kind of cute, actually.”

You huffed, feeling a flush creep up your neck at his direct comment. Turning away to hide your embarrassment, you snapped, “You’re annoying, you know that?”

He chuckled, a low, amused sound that seemed to reverberate through the air. “I’ve been told that once or twice.”

He had this way of making everything seem effortless, yet there was a deeper, almost imperceptible layer of concern that you couldn’t quite understand. 

You caught him watching you more often now, his usual playful demeanour occasionally replaced by an intense seriousness that made you wonder what he was really thinking.

There were moments, fleeting and unexpected when you found yourself lost in thoughts about him.

His confident smile, the way he casually teased you, and even his serious side, all seemed to draw you in—and there is no denying he has got to be one of the most gorgeous men you’d ever se—What the hell am I thinking about right now, focus!

You quickly brushed these thoughts away, a mix of embarrassment and practicality pushing them to the back of your mind. 

Focus on the training, you reminded yourself. There was enough to worry about without adding complicated feelings into the mix.

The weight of needing to be useful, to prove yourself, was heavier than anything else on your mind right now. 

You took a deep breath, focusing your mind on the cursed energy swirling within you. Concentrate, you told yourself. Control it. Let it become strong.

With renewed determination, you concentrated the energy into your palms.

The familiar blue light began to glow, a vivid hue that seemed to dance around your hands. You lifted your arm, aiming towards the wooden target set up at the other end of the arena.

Gojo watched you intently, his usual smirk replaced by a look of genuine interest. You could feel his gaze on you, a silent encouragement that urged you to push through.

You narrowed your eyes at the target, summoning every ounce of concentration you had.

The cursed energy built up, a palpable force in your hand. When you felt ready, you released it.

A beam of cursed energy shot out from your palm, faster than a snap of your fingers. The beam struck the wooden target with explosive force. 

It shattered into splinters instantaneously, the impact sending debris scattering across the field. Blue flames erupted from the point of impact, scorching the ground and adding a dramatic flair to the display.

You watched with a mix of pride and relief as the target was blown to smithereens, the blue flames sizzling out quickly. The energy buzzed in your hands, a testament to the progress you had made.

“Wow, y/n…” Gojo said, his voice carrying a hint of genuine admiration. You smiled wide at his reaction. 

He walked over to you, playfully clapping his hands. But, your smile immediately fell into a tired frown when he spoke, “That was way stronger than I expected from you. Plus, I thought you’d miss.” 

“Well, aren’t you encouraging.” You replied harshly. “Glad you’re always rooting for me.” You said flatly as you turned away from him, setting yourself up to try again. 

As you caught your breath, still feeling the residual pulse of cursed energy, you heard footsteps approaching. Yuji, Nobara, and Maki—came into view, drawn by the commotion.

Yuji’s eyes widened as he took in the scene, his mouth dropping open in awe. “Whoa! What happened here?”

Nobara’s eyes gleamed with curiosity, her usual teasing demeanor replaced by genuine interest. “Looks like y/n’s been busy. What was that?”

Maki raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “That’s some impressive cursed energy control.”

Gojo took a step back, giving the group a sweeping gesture with a flourish. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present y/n’s newly developed technique. Quite the show, huh?”

Yuji bounded forward, practically bouncing with excitement. “That was amazing, y/n! I knew you had it in you!”

Nobara grinned and clapped her hands together. “Awesome! Now we can really go at you in training. Even Maki’s impressed, and that’s saying something.”

Maki gave you a nod of respect, her usual tough exterior softened by genuine admiration. “Nice work.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the lingering flush of satisfaction. “Just trying to keep up.”

The group continued to chatter, their enthusiasm and encouragement a welcome change from the tension you’d been feeling.

As you joined them, the atmosphere lightened, and for the first time in days, you allowed yourself to relax, enjoying the camaraderie of your peers. The fears that were previously stuck in your mind faded away. 

Gojo stayed close, his gaze lingering on you with an unreadable expression. Even amidst the laughter and conversation, there was an air of unspoken understanding between the two of you. 

That morning’s training had revealed more than just a new technique—it revealed that you could help, and that maybe, just maybe, everyone at this school wouldn’t see you as a burden.

—

Later that day, after you had spent hours training and sparring with Megumi and Nobara, you found yourself walking through the corridors of Jujutsu High, still thinking about your nightmare. You remembered that you had seen someone in your dream, but all details were blurred, like a lake on a windy day.

As you turned a corner, you almost collided with Nanami, who was making his way to the principal’s office.

“Oh, sorry,” you muttered, stepping aside quickly.

Nanami glanced at you with his usual unreadable expression. “No worries, y/n. My fault.” He gave a small nod of acknowledgment before continuing on his way. 

You watched him go—you didn’t know much about Nanami, but the other students spoke very highly of him. 

Something about the atmosphere around the school felt off today. There was an underlying tension you couldn’t quite place.

Deciding to brush it off for now, you headed back to your room, where Gojo was patiently waiting, leaning against your doorframe. “I’m starting to think you’re stalking me,” you teased, crossing your arms as you walked down the hall.

He grinned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “I’ve been accused of worse things.”

You rolled your eyes. “I need to talk to you.” He looked serious for a moment, something unusual for him. “Okayy…” You responded awkwardly. “What’s up?”

“The higher-ups are paying more attention to you now." He said bluntly, his tone flatter than usual.

Your heart skipped a beat, your body tensing at his words. “What do you mean, paying attention to me?”

Gojo let out a soft sigh. “Your cursed energy’s growing stronger. They’ve noticed. And when the higher-ups notice something they can’t explain, they don’t like to just let it slide. It’s quite annoying actually.” He threw his head back a bit in annoyance. “There’s this old bald guy who likes to hold grudges—mostly against me—and you’re my student.” 

You felt a lump form in your throat as his words settled in. The higher-ups were interested in you? 

"So... what does that mean for me?"

Gojo tilted his head a bit. "It means they're getting more suspicious. And if they can't figure you out, they’ll want to dig deeper.”

He hesitated for just a second before his smirk returned, “I gotta start bringing you on every mission. I kind of have a thing against these old folk, so I want to stay in between you and them.” 

You stared at him, your mind spinning. Going on missions with Gojo? The idea felt both thrilling and terrifying, and you weren’t sure if you should feel relieved or even more anxious. "You’re really serious about this?" you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

Gojo held up a finger and put his other hand on his hip. "Yep! So you should definitely polish up your cursed techniques.” You rolled your eyes at him, but he spoke again before you could respond.

"Don’t forget though, I am the strongest—If the higher-ups want to watch, fine. But they’ll have to do it from a distance."

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the situation settling on your shoulders. The idea of being watched, of being tested again—it made your skin crawl. 

But at the same time, you couldn’t ignore the strange comfort you felt knowing Gojo would be there.

—

The next day, you found yourself back at the training grounds with the rest of the group. The air felt heavy with the anticipation of something unspoken, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was. Megumi and Yuji were already stretching out, and Nobara was talking loudly about some new shoes she had bought. 

Gojo was already there when you arrived, leaning against a tree with his usual lazy grin, but his posture was more rigid than usual. Something was clearly on his mind.

“Alright, everyone ready?” Gojo’s voice broke through the chatter, and the group gathered around, exchanging glances.

“Today’s focus is control.” Gojo’s smile widened as his eyes flicked to you, the challenge clear. 

“We’re going to see just how well y/n can manage her cursed energy while under pressure. And by pressure, I mean you guys.” He flashed a pair of finger guns towards you and the others. 

Your heart skipped a beat. It was no secret that you had struggled with control until recently, and Gojo had been pushing you harder lately. 

As the sparring matches began, you found yourself paired with Nobara. Her cursed tools were sharp and precise, and you knew she wouldn’t hold back. 

You summoned your cursed energy, focusing it into your palms. You had yet to figure out any way to use your cursed energy defensively, only on the offence. 

She was too quick for you—you couldn’t load up your technique, just dodge her nails. 

“Fuck,” You breathed, sweat now dripping down your forehead. 

You managed to get a single strike aimed in her direction. She blocked it, although not with ease. 

Quickly after this, Nobara lunged at you, and you couldn’t dodge it. You lifted a single hand in font of your face to block her, and a shimmering barrier of cursed energy appeared in front of you, freezing Nobara in the air. It held up for a few seconds but then broke apart—Nobara falling in front of you. 

“You’re getting better,” Nobara said, a grin pulling at her lips, as she stood up. “But you’ll have to do better than that if you want to beat me.”

You smirked, feeling the adrenaline pump through your veins. “Oh, I plan to.”

For the next several minutes, the two of you exchanged blows, your cursed energy crackling and swirling around you. 

Each time Nobara attacked, you deflected with that shimmery barrier you created, feeling more in control of your abilities than ever before. 

But with each success came a growing sense of unease. 

The cursed energy wasn’t just responding to you—it was almost like it had a mind of its own, reacting to your emotions, amplifying with each surge of frustration or excitement.

From his vantage point, Gojo observed you with a mixture of amusement and admiration. It was impossible not to be drawn to the way you approached your training—there was a fierce determination in your eyes that spoke volumes. 

But it wasn’t just your training that captured his attention. There were moments, fleeting and unguarded, when you flashed him a smile—an expression of triumph or frustration. Those smiles, so rare and genuine, had a way of lighting up your face and sending a jolt of warmth through him. 

Sometimes, when you spoke to him, your voice had a certain edge that made his pulse quicken—a mix of sass and sincerity that he found both endearing and electrifying.

The way you carried yourself—your smile, your eyes, your voice—had an effect on him that went beyond mere admiration. 

Just as you were about to launch another attack, Gojo’s voice cut through the air.

“That’s enough.”

You and Nobara stopped, both panting heavily. You glanced over at Gojo, who had his arms crossed, his blindfold covering his eyes but not hiding the fact that he had been watching you intently the entire time.

Before you could respond, Yaga appeared at the edge of the training grounds, his face as stern as ever.

The moment his gaze landed on you, your stomach twisted. He hadn’t been around much since you’d arrived at Jujutsu High, but whenever he did show up, it was usually for something serious.

“Gojo, a word?” Yaga said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Gojo sighed, his usual lighthearted demeanour slipping. “Go on without me,” he said to the group, and then to you specifically, “Try not to burn the place down.”

You rolled your eyes, but the tightness in your chest remained as you watched Gojo and Yaga disappear into the main building.

Nobara nudged you lightly, breaking you from your thoughts. “What do you think that’s about?” she asked, her voice casual but her eyes glinting with curiosity.

You shrugged, trying to play it off, though your heart raced with unease. “Who knows? Maybe they’re finally realizing how much of a pain Gojo is,” you joked, earning a loud laugh from Nobara, though your attempt at humour fell flat to your own ears.

—

Meanwhile, inside the main building, Gojo leaned casually against the wall, his blindfold still firmly in place, arms crossed in a posture that suggested nonchalance. “So, what’s so urgent, Yaga? You interrupt my valuable instructor time?” Gojo quipped, though his tone lacked its usual lightness.

Yaga didn’t bite on Gojo’s attempt at humour. His face was grave as he glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were alone. “There’s been word of a new curse user. Someone powerful. Too powerful to go unnoticed for long.”

Gojo straightened up slightly, sensing the shift in tone. “And?”

“And the higher-ups—specifically Gakuganji—are starting to grow suspicious,” Yaga continued. “They think this curse user might be connected to y/n.”

At this, Gojo’s easygoing facade cracked. His posture stiffened, and a dangerous gleam appeared behind his blindfold. “Those idiots think y/n’s involved? Based on what?”

Yaga sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know how they are. Always looking for someone to blame. Her cursed energy’s been growing steadily, and they can’t make sense of it. Then, suddenly, this curse user appears on the radar, causing havoc—Gakuganji’s convinced there’s a link.”

Gojo was silent for a moment, processing the information. His fingers twitched by his sides, itching for action, for a way to cut through the bureaucracy and protect you. “Y/n has nothing to do with this curse user,” he said, his voice hard and certain. “You know that, and I know that.”

“But Gakuganji doesn’t,” Yaga countered. “He’s old, set in his ways. He’s convinced himself that there’s something wrong with her. The more her cursed energy grows, the more paranoid he gets.”

Gojo clenched his jaw, frustrated but not surprised. “What’s the plan, then? Are they going to monitor her, restrict her movements? Or do they want to go further?”

Yaga frowned, folding his arms. “They haven’t made a decision yet, but it’s clear Gakuganji wants answers. He’s pushing for a formal investigation. If he can convince the other higher-ups, it won’t be long before they take action.”

Gojo’s lips curled into a bitter smirk. “And by ‘investigation,’ you mean dragging her into their games, pushing her until something breaks.”

“Exactly,” Yaga said grimly. “They’re not going to let this go. And if this curse user causes more damage, they’ll be looking for someone to pin it on.”

Gojo’s eyes darkened behind his blindfold. His protective instincts surged as he thought of you, how unaware you were of the storm brewing around you. He wouldn’t let them touch you—not when he could do something about it.

“So what do we do?” Gojo asked, his tone dropping, serious.

Yaga glanced at him, the unspoken weight of the question hanging between them. “I trust you, Gojo, but you need to be careful. You’re the only thing standing between y/n and Gakuganji right now. If he gets too suspicious, even you might not be able to stop them from acting.”

Gojo scoffed at Yagas statement. “Yeah right. Not even that old man could stop me, you know that too.” He pushed off the wall, his posture shifting back into the easygoing persona he used like armour.

—

After training, you were left feeling restless. The sparring match with Nobara had gone well, but the growing power inside you felt unsettling. You needed to clear your head, and sitting still wasn’t an option. 

The sun had just set, and you were wandering the grounds, the quiet evening air a welcome distraction from the many issues swirling in your mind. But just as you rounded a corner near the principal’s office, you caught sight of Gojo and Nanami standing just outside, their voices hushed but intense.

“I don’t trust the higher-ups on this,” Gojo was saying, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “There’s more going on here than they’re letting on.”

Nanami frowned, his arms crossed. “And what do you plan to do? Defy them openly?”

Gojo shrugged, though there was a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Your heart raced as you ducked behind a nearby wall, straining to hear more.

“They want her under observation,” Nanami continued, his voice low but firm. “There are too many unanswered questions about her cursed energy. If they find something they don’t like, it won’t end well.”

Gojo’s voice dropped even lower, sending a shiver down your spine. “That’s why I’m keeping her close. I’m not letting them pull any stunts.”

Nanami was quiet for a moment before responding, “Just be careful. If you go too far, you’ll be putting both of you at risk.”

Gojo let out a soft chuckle, though there was no real humour in it. “Since when am I not careful?”

Nanami shot him a pointed look, and Gojo raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll keep it subtle. So serious, Nanami.” And with that, you heard one set of footsteps leave, trailing down the hall.

You pressed your back against the wall, your mind racing. The higher-ups were investigating you? And Gojo—he was protecting you from them?

You weren’t sure what to think. 

The idea that the higher-ups were interested in your cursed energy wasn’t surprising, but the fact that Gojo was actively shielding you from them sent a whirlwind of emotions through you.

Before you could process any further, Gojo’s voice floated through the air again, this time with that familiar teasing lilt. “You can come out now, y/n.”

Shit.

Your heart nearly stopped. How had he known?

Reluctantly, you stepped out from behind the wall, trying to maintain some semblance of composure despite the flush creeping onto your cheeks. “I wasn’t eavesdropping!” you said quickly, though the weak defense only made your face heat up further.

Gojo’s smirk was pure mischief as he slid his hands into his pockets, his movements leisurely and deliberate. “Oh? Then what were you doing?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words died in your throat as Gojo stopped right in front of you.

He towered over you, his presence was overwhelming in the dim light. With one finger he held his blindfold up slightly to reveal those sharp, piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through you.

“Didn’t I tell you not to worry about this stuff?” he said softly, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down your spine. The way he spoke made your pulse quicken.

“I wasn’t—”

“You were,” he interrupted, his tone lighter but still firm, with an edge that made your stomach flutter. “And you’re overthinking it.”

His proximity was intoxicating. 

You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, his breath so close that it made your heart race. The way he looked at you, so intensely and with that hint of a smirk, made you lose your train of thought.

Every glance, every touch, every teasing comment he made set your nerves on fire. But you tried to keep your composure. 

“I just want to know what’s going on,” you said quietly, your voice betraying the emotional turbulence you felt. “Why are they so interested in me?”

Gojo’s expression shifted, and for a brief moment, the playful facade dropped.

He took another step closer, you felt his breath on the top of your head as he spoke, “Because they don’t trust you. 

You felt your breath hitch at the closeness, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

“Okay, and why are you so involved?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rush of emotions surging through you.

Gojo tilted his head, his lips curling into a teasing smirk as he gazed down at you, his voice low and almost intimate. "Do I need a reason to be involved?" he murmured, the weight of his words making your chest tighten.

Your pulse quickened as you searched his face, trying to decipher the meaning behind that statement.

He always did this—danced around the edges of something deeper, leaving you guessing, wondering if there was more to his teasing than just playful banter. 

But right now, with his proximity overwhelming your senses, it felt different. More intense.

“I think you owe me one,” you whispered firmly, trying to keep your voice steady, though the closeness made it nearly impossible. “A real answer.”

Gojo’s smirk faded slightly, his expression shifting into something more serious, something that sent a wave of heat straight through you. 

His hand brushed the side of your arm as he lifted his hand up to hold the back of his neck, his fingers lingering just long enough to send a spark through your skin.

“Maybe I’m just keeping an eye on what’s mine,” he said softly, his tone both possessive and protective.

Your breath hitched at his words. What the hell was he talking about? His?

There was an unmistakable electricity between the two of you—a pull you couldn't resist, no matter how hard you tried.

“Yours?” you breathed, the word barely slipping past your lips. 

Your heart pounded in your chest, his smirk returning with a new lightheartedness to it.

And suddenly the moment was gone—“Yeah, my student!” 

Your eyes narrowed at him, the sudden shift in his tone turning all the heat that had built up into sheer frustration.

Gojo saw your face and let out a loud chuckle, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he took step back. “Ha! for a minute I thought you were coming onto me there, y/n.” 

His teasing grin was back in full force, and you hated how easily he could do that—toss you from one emotional extreme to another like it was nothing. 

"Oh god, you're insufferable," you muttered, dramatically rolling your eyes and putting your hands on your hips. You were annoyed at him, but it was hard to stay that way when he looked so damn amused.

Gojo tilted his head, watching you with that playful glint in his eye, like he was waiting for you to react exactly how you did. “Oh, come on, don’t be like that.” He chuckled.

“Whatever, you’re a weird guy, you know that?” You said, although you couldnt help the smile that was creeping onto your face.

Before he could say anything else, you turned away and began to walk in the direction of your dorm room, a knowing smile formed on your lips. “Goodnight, Saturo.” You said; your voice was soft as you waved before turning the corner. 

Gojo stood there, frozen in place as your words echoed in his mind.

Satoru.

The sound of his name on your lips stirred something deep inside him, something he couldn’t quite define. It was the first time he had heard his name said in such a tone since—since his best friend. 

But from you, it felt different—intimate in a way that unsettled him. His name had never sounded so soft, so gentle, and for a brief moment, he wondered how many other times you’d said it in your head, the way it had rolled so naturally off your tongue just now.

He blinked, the usual playful smirk faltering on his lips as a strange warmth spread through his chest that he couldn’t suppress. 

He could feel his heart racing in a way it hadn’t in years, the steady rhythm skipping just slightly out of sync. What was that? 

His hand twitched at his side, tempted to reach out after you, to call you back, but he hesitated.

What the hell are you doing, Satoru? He thought to himself, shaking his head as if to clear the strange, fluttering feeling in his chest.

Gojo prided himself on being untouchable—in more ways than one. 

No one could get close enough to affect him, emotionally or otherwise, but somehow, without even trying, you were doing just that. He exhaled, running a hand through his hair and letting out a low chuckle to himself.

“Damn, you really are something else,” he muttered, staring at the spot where you had just disappeared from view.

There was no denying it now—you had managed to slip past the barriers he had built, and the realization unsettled him. His mind raced through the conversations, the subtle moments, the looks shared between you two.

And now, something as simple as you saying his name had thrown him completely off balance.

Your voice continued to echo in his ears—Satoru—soft and lingering. 

Finally, he turned on his heel, heading toward his own quarters, though his mind was anything but settled.

His thoughts kept circling back to you—to the way you’d looked at him before you left, the way your lips had curved into that soft, knowing smile.

He cursed under his breath.

This was getting dangerous. Not because of the higher-ups, not because of the curses or the investigations, but because of you. 

You were becoming a distraction—a very dangerous, very tempting distraction.

[whateversawesome]

Let's Talk About Yor

Something is going on with Yor lately. Have you noticed it too?

Even though she wasn't in every chapter of the latest big arc (Wheeler-Yuri-Twilight confrontation), the arc started with her and ended with her and I think there's a reason for that.

As I mentioned before, Yor is a very emotionally intelligent character. She surpasses Twilight on this, who struggles with his own emotions and the emotions of others too.

So the way Yor works is by becoming aware of an emotion or a change within herself and then she reflects on that. Then, things happen to her and she reflects some more about that issue or emotion, which is usually connected to the things that are happening around her.

Example: Look at the chapters leading to the cruise arc. Fiona showed up and Yor started questioning her place in the Forger family. Everything seemed to be cleared out during that same visit, but then Loid went to a tennis tournament with Fiona and Yor kept thinking about this. When the tennis challenge happened, even though Yor won, this didn't make her feel better, quite the opposite. Finally, Loid reassured her during that date in the bar, right after he got kicked on the chin.

That should have been it, right? Wrong. More things kept happening to Yor and she kept thinking about her place in the world, whether or not she should keep her assassin job until we finally get to that moment when she realizes her reason to keep on living and protecting is her family.

I get the feeling we're now at a similar point in the manga. Somehow everything keeps pointing to Yor, specifically to Yor and her relationship with Loid. Look at what's happening to Yor and tell me what you think is coming:

1.That chat with her office friends about gripes, marriage and welcome home kisses.

2.The welcome home kiss that never happened when she got home.

3."The fight" she had with Loid, or more specifically: thinking about her husband while he was shot by Yuri. (Those sad eyes said a lot!).

4.That honest talk she had with Twilight where she tells him she wants to take care of him.

5.Her chat with Yuri, where her brother asked her if she loves Loid.

6.Meeting the Authens, a real marriage, and seeing them kiss. (The Authens' Theory here.)

See what I mean? If we take into consideration the way Yor grows as a character and the way she realizes things, then where is this heading?

It's clear Yor is about to realize she has feelings for Loid!

The way the story keeps pointing at a kiss with giant arrows is not a coincidence. For Yor, who is inexperienced, a kiss would mean true love and a real marriage (which is what she wants). If the almost kiss didn't happen at the beginning of the story (when Yuri visited) is because back then, the marriage wasn't real. Maybe they liked each other and a little more, but they had just met.

Now about the first twiyor kiss...we'll you can read my theory on that here. And I'd like to add a little more...

I know I said I wanted it to happen in the movie, but I admit I was being waaaay too optimistic about it. Sadly, I don't think it'll happen in the movie. Like some of you mentioned, that moment belongs to the manga and I agree.

However, all that is happening with Yor is leading to that kiss. I still believe she'll be the one who takes that step and will be the one who kisses Twilight. I insist; it's part of her character arc, which is about gaining confidence in herself, becoming a woman, and feeling worthy of love.

At this point, she's on the verge of figuring out her own feelings and after that happens, she needs to accept them and then figure out how she wants to proceed. I believe it won't be an easy task for her. Knowing Yor, she won't want to inconvenience Loid and impose her feelings on him. She also won't want to risk what she already has: her family. So it will take a while and maybe a little encouragement (maybe from the Authens?) to get to the point of actually want to act on these feelings.

But it's coming.

[unholyhelbig]

i would love a one shot of nat interacting w ronnie! maybe r is caught up doing a job for nat and nat has to pick ronnie up from school and domesticity w r ensues?

Title: The Carpool Lane [an Oversight Oneshot]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: You get caught up while running an errand for Natasha and aren't able to pick your daughter up from school. You ask Natasha to do it and she has to grapple with some big feelings.

[a/n: Hello! I promise you all that the last official chapter of the Oversight is going to be posted soon. It is a very heavy one so here is some fluff in the meantime! Also, I'm opening my requests again, so feel free to send some my way.]

Warnings: None that I can think of other than horrible grammar, but please let me know if I need to add any!

Check out the full Oversight universe

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven]

The air in the home office had become sticky and cloying. It often did when the sun decided to shine as strongly as it did. Natasha kept her books clean and clear of dust but often times there was only so much she could do. Large particles floated in the crossfire of a golden glow. It almost pained her to wrench the window open and disrupt the flow.

It was difficult for Natasha to keep focus when she could hear the sounds from outside and feel the soft breeze on her skin. She was often known for her dedication, for her focus and her ruthlessness. But on afternoons, she was stuck doing mountains of paperwork when she’d much rather be doing you.

Natasha often drifted into hazed memories of the whimpers that escaped you, your breathless swears interlaced with the intoxicating way you moaned her name. She liked teasing you until you begged for her, until you needed her more than you needed breath, until you arched your back and cried into the thousand thread count sheets.

Of course, her favorite thing was to bring you to the very edge with her just her delicate touch and her sultry words. You’d come undone underneath her, coated in sweat and ready to please as an orgasm rocked through- an annoying ringtone.

Natasha had shoved her phone into the bottom drawer of her desk to gain some focus. It clearly wasn’t working. Her nails scratched across the rich oak of the desks surface before she pawed around.

Yelena had set her ringtone to the loudest, most obnoxious blowhorn she could find. She claimed that Natasha was losing her touch and often couldn’t hear anything past her own thoughts. And so, what if that was the case? Natasha quite liked her thoughts lately.

“Romanoff,” She drawled, voice dripping with annoyance.

“Hi,”

It took one breathless word from you and everything else was forgotten. There was worry in that single syllable and it made Natasha’s world spin for only a second before she got her bearings. She could do this. She was in charge.

“Tell me where you are.”

“You know where I am, you sent me here yourself.” You chuckled in a low whisper. Natasha had sent you to collect rent from your usual charges. She knew your pattern and could hear the low hum of the row of washing machines behind you.

While she prided herself on her ability to train you into the perfect protector with a quick hand a vicious tongue, she wouldn’t dare change a thing about your soft spots. You had particular one for the family that rented the apartment above the Soapsuds laundry mat and ran it seamlessly.

It was nearly impossible for you to say no to the elderly woman that took up residence with her son. She’d make you tea and you’d indulge in cookies as she regaled you with her charming stories from the 40’s.

“She’s a trained killer, ma, she doesn’t have time for this!”

Natasha heard the son’s accented voice muffle it’s way through the phone. She scoffed, and switched her phone to her other ear. You must have put your palm over the receiver because you were garbled too.

“I absolutely have time for this Miss Vazquez.” You returned to your conversation, voice whispered once more. “I don’t have time for this, Nat. I don’t want to break her frail heart. Could you possibly… pick Ronnie up from school?”

Natasha had been rendered silent, which wasn’t a feat that was often achieved in a shocking manner. Usually, if a Romanoff was quiet, they were busy calculating and it was better to avoid the storm brewing behind their eyes. This wasn’t the same kind of soundlessness.

She had to pick her jaw off the floor. Veronica was your entire life, and though Natasha came in for a close second, you would do absolutely anything for that child. You’d walk through fire, and it was testament to your growing trust with Natasha, having her pick your daughter up from school.

“Nat, baby” your voice came through the phone “did I lose you? If it’s too much I can get Darcy to take a later lunch. It’s not a problem at all. I shouldn’t have asked, you’re a busy woman and-“

“I’d love to.”

“Huh?”

“I can pick her up, y/n, really.”

Her palms started to sweat, and Natasha never sweated. She stood up and started to pace the length of her office, entering and exiting the large stream of light that vented in through the window. She listened carefully as you told her word for word how to enter the car line, and what mothers to avoid entirely.

“I’ll call ahead, let them know you’re safe to pick up Ronnie. Thank you for doing this, Natty. I appreciate it.”

She smiled, biting her thumbnail. She stopped at the window and peered out at the newly installed swing set at the edge of the property. So many little things had changed in Natasha’s life over the last year. There were children’s books strewn over the tables and art supplies that Ronnie loved to draw with. This was an extra step. This was the extra step that made her fingers itch for the ring hidden in the false bottom of her desk.

“Darling! Would you like to hear about the night I had with Robert Kennedy?”

“I would love to, Miss Vazquez!” You called back, lowering your voice once more. “I love you, I’ll see you at home. Dinner is on me.”

You had hung up the phone a few moments ago but Natasha kept it against her face for a few moments as if it were an anchor. She had to pick up Ronnie. She had to pick up Ronnie. Natasha was on her feet now, searching the large living room and foyer, and even the nightstands by her bed before she grasped at her keys and sprinted out the door.

Veronia was a girl of very little words, but she was comfortable enough around Natasha to curl into her side during movie nights, little fist clenching onto the fabric of her shirt. Most of the time, she’d fall asleep before the end of the film and Natasha would stare affectionately as you scooped her up and took her to her room.

Now, Natasha sat in the parking lot of the school with blood rushing past her ears. Somehow, the gaggle of mothers that lingered by the release doors were scarier than anything she had ever faced before.

She’d been shot at least four times and had survived them all. She had pulled the trigger herself more times than she could count, but all of curious eyes landing on her sleek black car made her nearly sweat through her t-shirt.

Natasha stalled as long as she could before taking the tentative steps across the asphalt lot. There was a small patch of green grass that seemed to be overwatered if it still held its vibrant color during a late heated day.

Her sunglasses were down over her eyes and she feigned looking at her phone, though she eyed each and every parent that lingered. They were openly staring at her, and she heard a few hushed whispers, absolutely no attempt to muffle their judgements.

“Don’t pay them any mind.”

Natasha startled, not noticing the woman that had sidled up next to her. Her skin was pale, her hair a pitch-black color that must have heated her up on a day like this. She stuck her hand out and Natasha took it carefully, shaking it. “Jessica Jones.”

“Natasha Y/L/N,”

The woman was apprehensive to use her own last name. While she kept a mostly low profile, there were still some people who would clock the name as something familiar. The last thing she needed was someone targeting you, or God-forbid, Ronnie. The words fit perfectly into her mouth like a sweet candy.

“I’ve never seen you around here before, and apparently neither have the vultures with the way they’re circling.”

She couldn’t help but smile “I’m… new. My partner got a little tied up at work and asked me to pick up her daughter.”

“Ah, so you’re that Natasha.” She must have flushed awkwardly, nervously, because Jessica seemed to backtrack. “Nothing bad. There are moms like the women over there who put their entire being into making everything perfectly beige. Then there are moms like y/n and I. Imperfect.”

Natasha’s eyebrows lifted. Each woman that flocked towards the front of the glass doors, waiting excitedly for their children to spill out did have the same look about them. They all wore leggings and different colored pastel shirts. Each one had the same highlights and haircuts, and apprehensive stares.

“We’re out here a lot together, and it was pretty obvious when things started to change for her. With you around, the smile actually reaches her eyes you know?”

The statement warmed Natasha greatly and made the box in her desk weigh heavier on her mind. Of course, she didn’t want to think too much about it, but she also wanted to make sure that you were happy, something you reassured her of over and over again.

Natasha opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by the barrage of tiny feet on the sidewalks and grass. There was a sea of runny noses and crinkled papers slathered in different primary colors.

A small boy with dark ringlets of hair crashed into Jessica’s legs clumsily and she let out a large huff of air in response, scooping him up into her arms. He had the most startling blue eyes like his mother and gave Natasha a gap-toothed-goofy smile.

Natasha was searching the crowd for your daughter. It wasn’t like she would call out, that was much too vocal for her and Natasha didn’t blame the girl in the slightest. Through the sea of kids, her eyes locked on Ronnie’s and she gave her an encouraging smile and a small wave.

Veronica’s expression lit up as she dashed the few feet that was separating them. Natasha had the foresight to lean down enough to dampen the impact of her hug. It was quite the rare occasion to be embraced by her, so she savored the spring scent of her.

“Your mama got caught up at work and asked me to pick you up.” Natasha explained, leaning back on her heel, she brushed a strand of hair behind Ronnie’s ear. “What’s that?”

Natasha gently pointed to the picture that was in Veronica’s hand. Her chest welled with pride at the drawing and she would say that it was miles better than any other kid she saw run out with their artwork. Yelena had been right; Ronnie had a beautiful gift that Natasha would pour everything into for as long as she wanted to call it her craft.

This particular scene was a rendition of the large house, too big to fit within the confines of the paper. There was six figures that vaguely resembled each person Natasha knew and loved. A clear grouping had been established.

Kate was smeared in a purple color with dark locks of hair.

Yelena had been drawn next to her, hand and hand.

Clint stood close to them- but not too close- with his signature deep look.

What called to Natasha the most was how Ronnie had grouped her. There was a figure by the edge of the page that was clearly you, down to a tea, and a shorter figure right next to you that was unmistakably Ronnie. The two figures held hands; and on the other side, with her signature deep auburn hair and green eyes, stood Natasha. Her fingers were wrapped around Ronnie’s in the photo, too smudges of color that made the enforcers heart thrum harder than it ever had before.

“This is beautiful,” Natasha breathed, struggling not to let the water that built up in her eyes drip down her cheeks. That would be weird. It would freak Ronnie out. “I love it.”

“You do?” The girl asked.

“I do. In fact, it’s getting framed and hung up immediately.”

It was rare for Ronnie to speak, but it was a prize each time she did. Just like you, Natasha had begun to understand her body language and everything she said with her eyes. It was something she would grow out of, or maybe she would speak with just her art.

Either way, Natasha read her loud and clear.

It was well past ten pm by the time you had pulled yourself away from the laundry mat. You ended up eating dinner with the family despite your repeated refusal. It was some of the best food you have ever eaten and though you missed the quality time with Natasha, the vodka coating on the pasta would have you reeling for weeks.

The house was mostly dark by the time you returned, and you were careful when you let your keys drop into the dish by the door. A soft golden light streamed down the hallway, leading to the kitchen.

Natasha would often partake in a glass of red wine, a record playing softly in the background. It was her time to unwind, to do the dished from dinner and breathe out the stress of the day. Just like any office job. Sometimes she’d use the time to scrub away blood from under her nails as you waited patiently and took sparing sips from her glass despite denying wanting one of your own.

The sink wasn’t on, and the kitchen was mostly silent save for a faucet drip here and there. Natasha leaned against the counter and stared at the moonlit swing set in the yard. It was bathed in just enough pale light to make out the shapes drifting in the light breeze.

You came up behind her, snaking your arms around her waist and resting your head on her shoulder. She shivered against the coolness of your skin, but hugged you tight against her center with a comforting and raspy hum.

“Thank you for picking up Ronnie today,” you mumbled into the side of her neck, “And getting her to bed. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

Natasha turned in your arms and had a bit of a pout to her expression that you weren’t expecting. You lifted an inquisitive eyebrow at her. You wanted to kiss that frown right off her lips. You wanted to lull her into a state of content after the long day you’d had.

Almost timidly, she said “We’re a family. That’s what we do.”

God, how long you’d wanted to hear that. This time, you didn’t hesitate to close to the distance between you both. You kissed her softly; you kissed her with so much love that it left you dizzy.

You’d scared away partners before with the prospect of having a daughter. Most of the time, you wouldn’t’ even bring it up until a third date, when you were close to sure. But even then, you’d be left at the restaurant, or the bowling alley, or the movie theatre by yourself once the words left your mouth.

Nothing about your relationship with Natasha had been conventional, however, and each day she shocked you with her tenderness and care for someone she had no responsibility towards. Just letting you and Ronnie move in had been enough. Parenting her? Loving her? It felt beyond reality.

She chuckled into the kiss, running her fingers down your jaw. “I love you too, detka.”

“Mm, seriously, thank you.”

“Do you want to see something?”

You lifted your eyebrows suggestively and earned a light-hearted smack to the shoulder. She wormed her way out of your embrace and crossed the large kitchen to the fridge. When you’d first moved in, it was blank. There was a single wedding invitation tacked up with a magnet for joining the Murdock and Natchios families in matrimony, but even that had been years old.

Now there was something new.

Something that had unmistakably been crafted by Ronnie. The photo was a beautiful mix of colors and mediums and at the very corner in, in blue crayon, were two words; My Family.

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife@a-spes, @kyleeservopoulos]

[throughthebluesea]

The Duplicate. (Special Chapter)

pairing: bada lee x 1million member!reader

genre: fluff, a bit humor-ish... bc... king bada is here again. overprotective bada, the rest of team bebe being the biggest instigators.

den's notes: i suggest reading the first part here. ♡ this is dedicated to team bebe, our champion crew! also, this is dedicated to those who enjoyed the first one-shot i posted here. i never expected the support. 🥺 anyways, this is not proofread, but still enjoy!

D-Day. The finale episode has arrived, and everyone has been practicing hard, perfecting their final routines. You and Bada became so busy with your crews that the two of you only meet after long hours of dance practices. The both of you understood and instead became each other's support. The two are in the final four crews, after all.

One thing that piqued their interest is that they will be shooting with Street Gagwoman Fighter 2 casts. The other members are not worried, but you're a different case.

You would recall Bada getting jealous over your interactions with King Bada. Although you had assured her many times, she would still get affected whenever their closest peers from different crews tease you because of it. (You guys had a big group chat with all the 8 crews, and the Wolf 'Lo ladies won't shut up about it. They love teasing Bada about it.)

And now, Bada told you that she will shoot with King Bada and her crew.

Before the shoot starts, you went over their crew room, greeting all the girls good luck then head over to Bada and surprised her with a tight backhug.

"Hey, cutie."

You can feel her flinch and turned around quickly, her eyes wide when she saw you. "Baby! You're here! Are you done with the voting ad shoot?" She asked as her hands find your cheeks and cupped it gently.

"Already done! I begged PD to let me in here and watch."

Just as Bada is about to reply, Mijin, the one who plays King Bada enters the room all smileys yet you can feel her nervousnes as she is going to finally meet her.

The rest of BEBE were in awe to see King Bada, and gushed about how she looks extremely similar with their team leader.

Mijin spots the two of you and waved, to which you reciprocated. You felt her arms tightened around yours and you looked up at Bada, staring at her doppelganger.

Tatter and Kyma were the first ones to notice the actions of their leader towards you, then approached Mijin, whispering something to her and her reaction to what they told her gained laughter from the rest of the team.

"You can do it, King Bada-nim!" Kyma cheered, lightly pushing Mijin towards you two. Tatter on the other hand were laughing hard behind her. Lusher and Cheche just shook their heads while Sowoen and Minah stood there, utterly confused.

Mijin, or King Bada strided towards the couple with confidence, with her hands on the pockets of her khaki pants.

"Lee Bada." Your eyebrows raised when Mijin approached you and Bada, confused as to what she's going to do.

"King Bada." Your girlfriend answered while her arms tightened around you more.

"I'm taking my girl back." Mijin/King Bada responded with confidence and tried pulling you to her side. The girls gasped and squealed in the background. Bada scoffed and pulled you back. "You mean, my girl?"

Not gonna lie, this exchange with the comedienne and Bada being more quite possessive is hot, you thought. Mijin just cowers and hid behind team BEBE, muttering apologies and that she was just joking, even telling that it was Tatter's and Kyma's idea.

The two instigators just laughed their asses off, satisfied at how the exchange turned out to be.

Before Bada became sulky, you cupped both her cheeks and assured her. This calmed the female down a bit and let go of you to greet the comedienne, apologizing for her slightly hostile behavior towards her.

They proceeded with the shoot. A couple of takes has been made but they finished just in time. You were watching from behind the scenes and you noticed that Bada and her crew are doing very well. The atmosphere lightened up and as they finished the shoot, they took pictures with Mijin while they praised her.

Lusher slides herself beside you and placed an arm around you. "Unnie, your presence here boosted the morale of the team, especially Bada-unnie's."

You smiled at the younger's words, "Well, even though both of us are competitors in this show, we promised that we'll be each other's support pillar when times got hard."

"Bada-unnie's happiness is ours."

You patted the small of her back, thanking her for being so appreciative with your relationship with their leader.

"I think you, Bada-unnie, and King Bada-nim needs a selca. The fans would love it!" Lusher states with a mischievous grin and dragged you towards them.

Lusher told the girls about her idea, to which they agreed with. Bada was hesitant at first, since it's her sub-leader's way of teasing her for her act recently. Mijin was stuttering when she asked her if she wants to take a picture with you and Bada in it.

She eventually gave in, and gladly played along. The rest of Team BEBE were fangirling so hard with the choice of poses the three of you did. Bada then hugged Mijin after, thanking her support and love for Team BEBE. Mijin joked that she was originally a 1Million fan but shifted to Team BEBE after being tasked to portray the leader.

It's your turn now to scoff and try towering her, jokingly telling her that you were disappointed and all. Everyone laughed at your feigned disappointment with Mijin had said.

-

The photos were uploaded after the live finale episode by Lusher. It trended quickly, but it's the least of your worries. Your focus is on the teary-eyed victor, who is still looking over the trophy in her hands. Team BEBE became the winning crew, and your team landed on the third spot. You could've worked harder, but Lia and the rest of your crew already took this as a big win.

Amongst the crowd of your fellow competitors, you made your way towards your girlfriend. When she spots you, she immediately engulfs you with a tight hug.

The two of you didn't say a word. All you two knew is that both of you are proud of each other and what you two achieved in the competition.

- fin.

[simplyraeblue]

King and Captive

(Hunter and Hunted Spin-Off) read here

a chance meeting with Sukuna quickly turns into a nightly routine you can't escape. as the lines between game and something more blur, you start to wonder—how long can you keep playing, or will Sukuna make you his next conquest? !Sukuna x !femreader

chapter warnings/tags: swearing, drinking, use of "princess", still decently tame, sukuna rides a motorcycle, eventual smut warning tho of course ( • ᴗ - ) A/N: as I said, I had three parts already written for this before I even posted part one (ᵕ—ᴗ—) so, enjoy ya filthy animals

index part one | part three

part three word count : 3,437

you couldn’t quite figure out how or why Sukuna kept ending up at the bar as you, at the same time, every day since your first encounter. yet, like clockwork, you found yourself leaving work and heading to that bar – the one where you’d first crossed paths. maybe it was a subconscious decision, a quiet hope that he’d be there again, just like he had been the last time, and the time before that.

each encountered felt like a dance. you couldn’t even recall the last time you’d ordered a drink for yourself. Sukuna always had two waiting – one for him, one for you. he seemed to know you’d show up, his confidence practically radiating. it had to be his cockiness that convinced him of your arrival each day. 

but Sukuna wasn’t oblivious. he’d pieced together that the bar was just around the corner from your workplace, and with a little persistence and some well-placed tips to the bartender, he gained the little slice of knowledge that you were a regular. your resistance intrigued him, even if it grated on his nerves. how had you managed to keep him at arm’s length this long? this game was new territory for him; women usually threw themselves at him, eagerly falling into bed. but you? you were different – a challenge he hadn’t enjoyed in ages.

“are you an alcoholic, or what?” you teased, smirking as you approached him from behind. right on time. Sukuna didn’t bother answering. instead, he slid a pint across the bar to the stool next to him and patted the seat, silently inviting you to take your place. beside him.

you scoffed, half in disbelief. you weren’t sure if his behavior was bordering on stalker territory or if he was just that determined to win whatever strange game he’d started two weeks ago. and yet, despite your better judgment, you took the open seat.

over time, those two post-work hours with him each night had become a strange sort of routine. little by little, you’d pried bits of personal information from him. he had two brother and was the oldest. he worked as a tattoo artist – a quick internet search confirmed he was quite popular locally – and he wanted to eventually open his own shop someday.

and then there was the breakup. he’d mentioned it briefly, almost casually, as if it wasn’t any true trouble to him. but the details? those he left vague.

“while I don’t mind doing this every day, when are you going to let me take you out on a real date?” Sukuna asked, his devilish smirk firmly in place as he watched you take a sip of your drink.

“I don’t know.” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “it’s been pretty entertaining coming here after work and find your raggedy ass sitting in the same spot every time.” you grinned over the rim of your glass, already bracing yourself for his comeback. something wicked flickered in his eyes, and you knew you’d poked the bear.

“raggedy ass?” Sukuna repeated, arching a brow with an amused grin. “you and my little brother would get along way too well.”

“probably.” you shot back. “I’ve only had to tolerate you for two weeks, but he’s already my hero for dealing with you his whole life.”

Sukuna laughed – a deep, booming sound that felt like it reverberated through your chest. it wasn’t something you’d intended, but you found yourself liking the sound: loud, unapologetic, and enough to draw attention from others in the bar. you were pretty sure if anyone dared to complain, they’d shut up instantly with a remark from his sharp tongue.

when his laughter subsided, Sukuna rested his chin in his hand, gaze fixed on you. “how about we play a little game?” he asked, his tone low and teasing.

“aren’t we already playing one?” you replied, shooting him a pointed look.

“this one’s simple.” his smirk widened. “I’ll be here, same time as usual tomorrow. if you show up again, I’ll take that as a yes to a date with me. a proper date, not just sitting in a bar down the street from your work.

you averted your gaze, aware of the heat rising in your cheeks. a real date? you’d gotten so comfortable here, trading playful insults and talking with him so casually every evening. would a date change things?

Sukuna studied your face while you thought in silence, the corner of his mouth twitching in satisfaction. he knew he’d caught you off guard. he thought you look so cute, brows furrowed and cheeks flushed, unable to meet his gaze. flustered – that’s what it was. and he liked you that way far more than he cared to admit.

“not sure you’d survive a real date with me,” you said, finally meeting his eyes, your voice steady despite the slight flutter in your chest.

Sukuna’s grin deepened, revealing the faintest hint of sharp canines. “oh, sweetheart, I’d survive just fine. the real question is, could you handle it?”

there it was—that cocky, self-assured attitude that was both infuriating and magnetic. you rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips. “bold of you to assume I even want to.”

“I don’t assume,” he replied smoothly, leaning closer. “I know. you wouldn’t keep showing up here if you didn’t enjoy my company.” his voice dipped lower, like a secret meant only for you. “I can see it in the way you’re smiling right now, no matter how much you try to hide it.”

your smile faltered for a second, but the smug look on his face spurred you to regain your footing. “or maybe I just like the free drinks,” you teased, taking a long sip from your glass.

Sukuna barked out another laugh, drawing more curious glances from around the bar. he didn’t care. “fair enough. but tomorrow? no drinks, no games—just you and me. that is, if you show up.” he gave you a look that was both a challenge and an invitation. “think you’re brave enough?”

brave enough? the audacity.

“you’re really not going to drop this, are you?” you asked, setting your glass down and crossing your arms.

“not a chance,” Sukuna replied, leaning back with an air of triumph. “but hey, if you’re too scared, just say so.”

you glared at him, lips twitching as you tried not to laugh. “I’m not scared.”

“good,” he said, standing up suddenly and throwing a few bills on the counter. “then I’ll see you tomorrow, same time.” he grabbed his leather jacket, slinging it over his shoulder as he looked down at you one last time. “and don’t be late, princess.”

with that, Sukuna turned and walked out, leaving you sitting there, torn between frustration and attraction. you hated how much his confidence got under your skin, and yet you couldn’t deny the thrill that came with every interaction.

you sighed, finishing the rest of your drink. tomorrow, huh? you weren’t sure if you’d go—but the thought of skipping out and letting him win so easily? that didn’t sit right with you either.

as you left the bar that night, one thing was clear: Sukuna had officially gotten under your skin, and you weren’t entirely sure how to shake him. or if you even wanted to.

-

the next evening, you found yourself lingering outside the bar longer than usual. it wasn’t hesitation keeping you there—not entirely. maybe it was nerves, though you hated to admit that Sukuna had gotten into your head like this.

the thought of his smug grin waiting for you inside was both infuriating and... exciting. you sighed, steeling yourself, and pushed the door open.

as always, Sukuna was there, seated in his usual spot, leaning back against the bar like he owned the damn place. he didn’t even look up when the door creaked open. instead, he glanced at his watch, his grin forming before he turned to you. “right on time, princess,” he drawled, eyes raking over you with a lazy confidence that set your nerves alight. “knew you couldn’t resist.”

you rolled your eyes, brushing past a couple of patrons on your way to his side. “don’t get too full of yourself, ass. you know I was already in the area.”

“oh, yeah?” he said, sliding a fresh drink in your direction without missing a beat. “and I suppose it’s just a coincidence that you didn’t choose another bar?”

you took the drink—not because he offered, of course, but because it was easier than engaging with his nonsense right away. “you’re awfully cocky for someone who still hasn’t gotten a yes,” you retorted, sipping slowly and watching his reaction.

Sukuna laughed, the deep, familiar sound somehow settling your nerves even as it annoyed you. “you showing up is all the ‘yes’ I need,” he said, turning to face you fully now, his arm resting casually on the back of your chair. “so, what’s it gonna be? you gonna let me sweep you off your feet tonight?”

you raised an eyebrow. “sweep me off my feet? that’s ambitious. I’m not that easily impressed.”

“challenge accepted,” he replied without hesitation. he leaned in just slightly, close enough for his voice to drop into that low, taunting tone he seemed to know got under your skin. “I’ve been playing nice, but maybe it’s time I stepped up my game.”

you tilted your head, meeting his gaze head-on. “oh, this was you playing nice?”

“careful,” he warned, smirking. “keep testing me, and you might find out what happens when I stop.”

the tension between you crackled like static, a silent standoff as neither of you broke eye contact. it was exhilarating, maddening, and far too entertaining for you to even think about leaving now. you couldn’t deny the heat you felt wash over your body, from your head to your toes you were… bothered to say the least.

finally, Sukuna leaned back, breaking the moment with a smug chuckle. “finish your drink, sweetheart. we’ve got a reservation.”

you blinked. “a reservation? you made plans?”

“don’t sound so surprised,” he said, standing and tossing a few bills on the bar. “I told you, tonight’s a proper date. you coming, or are you chickening out?”

you didn’t move right away, deliberately taking another sip of your drink just to make him wait. but as much as you hated giving him the satisfaction, the curiosity was too strong to ignore.

setting your glass down, you stood and grabbed your coat. “alright, Sukuna,” you said, brushing past him toward the door. “show me what you’ve got.”

his grin widened as he followed, the thrill of the chase sparking in his eyes. 

the cool evening air brushed against your skin as you stepped out of the bar, Sukuna following close behind. “so,” you started, glancing back at him. “where’s this ‘proper date’ happening? let me guess—a hole in the wall with sticky floors and loud music?”

“cute,” Sukuna replied, his smirk firmly in place. “but no. I’m classier than that.”

“sure you are,” you muttered, half teasing. “alright, then. impress me.”

“don’t worry, princess,” he said, leading you down the sidewalk. “I will.”

your steps slowed as you spotted a sleek, black motorcycle parked just ahead, a matching black helmet tied to the handlebar. Sukuna stopped next to it and turned to you with a grin that could only be described as wicked.

“seriously?” you asked, gesturing toward the bike. “this is how you’re taking me on a proper date?”

“what? you don’t trust me?” he teased, pulling a spare helmet from the back and tossing it to you.

you caught it, arching a brow. “not sure trust is the word I’d use. what is this, your bad-boy routine?”

he laughed. “sweetheart, this is the routine. now, are you getting on, or are you too scared?”

your jaw clenched at the challenge in his tone. no way were you letting him think you’d back down. you placed the helmet on your head, snapping it into place as he watched with obvious amusement.

“let’s get this over with,” you said, climbing onto the bike behind him.

Sukuna smiled as he mounted the motorcycle, his hands gripping the handlebars with ease. “hold on tight, princess,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

you hesitated for half a second before wrapping your arms around his waist, feeling the warmth of his body beneath his jacket – god above even the muscles in his abdomen that your arms pressed themselves into. he revved the engine, and before you could overthink it, the bike took off.

the rush of the wind was exhilarating, the world blurring as Sukuna navigated through the city streets. you clung to him, your earlier nerves replaced by something close to excitement. it wasn’t long before he slowed, pulling into a quiet side street lined with warm lights and the soft hum of activity.

when he finally stopped outside a small, cutesy restaurant, you climbed off the bike and removed your helmet, smoothing down your hair. “this is it?” you asked, eyeing the sign above the door and noticing the patio with fairy lights out back. “didn’t peg you as this type.”

“guess I’m full of surprises,” Sukuna said, smirking as he stowed the helmets. 

you rolled your eyes, but the faint smile tugging at your lips betrayed your curiosity. Sukuna held the door open for you, and as you stepped inside, the cozy atmosphere of the restaurant wrapped around you.

“you’re really going all out, huh?” you said, glancing back at him.

he leaned down slightly, just enough for his words to feel like a private joke. “when I do something, I do it right.”

you cast a glance over your shoulder as Sukuna followed you in, his imposing figure drawing a few curious looks from the other customers. it wasn’t hard to see why. even here, dressed in his leather jacket and with his strong presence, Sukuna looked like he belonged in the chaos of a fight, not the quiet comfort of a place like this. yet somehow, he seemed perfectly at ease.

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or suspicious,” you said, crossing your arms. “how’d you even get us a table here on short notice?”

he smirked, casually slipping his hands into his jacket pockets. “let’s just say I know how to get what I want.”

“of course you do,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

the host appeared, guiding you to a corner table that offered a little privacy from the rest of the customer. Sukuna pulled out your chair, a surprising gesture that earned a skeptical look from you.

“since when are you the gentleman type?” you asked, sitting down cautiously.

“since now,” he replied smoothly, taking his seat across from you. “don’t get used to it.”

the two of you read over the menu in silence for a moment, the air thick with unspoken tension. it wasn’t awkward, though – more like another game you were both quietly playing, testing each other’s patience and resolve.

when the waiter came, Sukuna ordered with casual confidence, even surprising you with his knowledge of the wine list. as the waiter walked away, you leaned forward, narrowing your eyes.

“okay, what’s the deal?” you asked. “this doesn’t seem like your usual scene.”

he leaned back in his chair, his smirk never wavering. “what, you think I spend all my time in bars and back alleys?”

“well, yeah,” you said bluntly, earning a low chuckle from him.

“trust me,” he said, resting his forearms on the table, “I know how to handle myself in places like this. just because I like to keep things casual doesn’t mean I can’t step it up when I need to.”

you tilted your head, studying him. he was a contradiction—a mix of rough edges and sharp wit, seeming to be someone who thrived on chaos yet could navigate moments like this with unsettling ease.

as you racked your brain to try and put the pieces of the puzzle that is Sukuna together, he gazed at you. your cocked head, pursed lips and eyebrows, all of it gave him feelings he didn’t know he could feel. he wanted to pinch your cheeks and take a bite out of you all in the same move. 

sure, originally, he had considered his efforts to be a fun little game – something he’d become an expert at. but this time it wasn’t a game he wanted to get a metaphorical trophy for at the end. he wanted to win, and keep winning over and over again. Sukuna’s end goal wasn’t to get you into bed, although he’d already spent much time thinking about what it would be like, but he wanted you to like him. want him. need him.

“so what’s your game, Sukuna?” you asked, deciding to drop the pretense. “you don’t strike me as the ‘dinner date’ type.”

he grinned, leaning in slightly. “maybe I’m just curious.”

“about what?”

“about you.” his tone was teasing, but his crimson eyes betrayed a flicker of something more serious, more genuine. “you don’t make it easy, and I like that.”

you felt your cheeks warm under his gaze, but you refused to look away. “curious, huh? that’s a dangerous game to play.”

“good,” Sukuna said, his grin widening. “danger’s where I’m most comfortable.”

though you’d never admit it to him, you were starting to like the way he made you feel: a little off-balance, a little reckless, and very, very alive.

As Sukuna watched you across the table, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction. You were trying hard to keep your composure, but he’d already noticed the small tells—how your fingers fidgeted slightly with the edge of your napkin, how you avoided meeting his eyes for too long. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to feed his ego.

Sukuna had always been good at reading people—what made them tick, what made them crumble. With most, it was laughably easy. Flash a smirk, lean in close, say the right thing, and they’d melt like butter. But you? You weren’t impressed by his confidence or his looks. You pushed back, called him out, and never let him feel like he had the upper hand for long.

It was infuriating.

And, strangely enough, addictive.

He watched as your brow furrowed slightly as you studied him. That curious little look you always got when you thought he wasn’t paying attention – it was becoming one of his favorite expressions on you.

“What?” you asked, catching him staring.

“Nothing,” Sukuna said, smirking as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Just wondering what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “If you think flattery’s going to get you anywhere, you’re wasting your time.”

“Who says I’m wasting it?” he shot back, enjoying the way you stiffened slightly. “I’ve got nowhere else I’d rather be.”

And that, to his surprise, was true.

He’d spent years chasing thrills—fights, chaos, women who came and went without leaving so much as a mark. But this? Sitting across from you, trading sharp words and stolen glances, felt different. It wasn’t just the chase that drew him to you. It was the fact that you didn’t back down.

You weren’t scared of him.

You intrigued him in ways he hadn’t expected, and for the first time in a long time, Sukuna felt the thrill of not knowing how something would end.

As the meal went on, he found himself talking more than he usually did, letting slip bits and pieces of himself he hadn’t planned on sharing. He didn’t know why he bothered – maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was the way you actually listened, meeting his words with equal parts curiosity and suspicion.

When the plates were cleared and the bill paid, Sukuna stood, offering you his hand. You stared at it for a moment, and he couldn’t help but smirk. “Relax, princess. I don’t bite.” although he wanted to.

an inappropriate response almost slipped past your lips, almost asking him to do just that. “Could’ve fooled me,” you muttered, but you took his hand anyway, letting him pull you to your feet. 

As you stepped outside, Sukuna handed you the helmet once more, watching as you adjusted it with that same fiery determination that had hooked him from the start.

Maybe this was dangerous. Maybe you’d be his undoing.

But Sukuna had never been one to back down from a challenge—and you, he realized, were one he didn’t want to win too quickly.

⊹. ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . taglist: @mangiswig@aldebrana@ravester@marie-is-in-the-dark@makingtimemine @sorahatake @osohchoso @csolya @clp-84 @chosokamoluvr . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

[delicatebarness]

i cant read your mind | chapter four

Summary: The journey to Madripoor.

Warnings: MCU Spoilers. Captain America: The Winter Soldier. The Falcon and the Winter Soldier spoilers throughout. Zemo.

Word Count: 1148

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A/N: If I didn't split this episode up then this chapter would have been too long for my brain to be okay with. The next one is gonna be looooong.

Tags: @blackhawkfanatic | @cjand10 | @wintrsoldrluvr | @missvelvetsstuff | @buckys-metal-arm | @matchat3a | @shadowzena43 | @torntaltos |

Strolling down the prison corridors, the sterile white tiles and harsh fluorescent light amplified a feeling of isolation, as well as a headache. “I’m gonna go alone,” Bucky admitted, addressing both you and Sam. Just as Sam questioned his decision, you objected with a firm “No,” as your mind went back to the last time Bucky was alone with Zemo.

“You’re an Avenger. You know how he feels about that.” Bucky continued, answering Sam's question as he shot you a warning glance that silently said, “Don’t push it,”. You didn’t say anything else while he gave Sam more reasons for him to go alone, you let out a sigh as you watched him leave. 

Anxiety began to rise throughout your body as you stood waiting, Sam sensed your apprehension about the return of The Winter Soldier. “He’ll be alright,” he said as he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder in reassurance. 

Your hand instinctively reached up to rub your neck as you responded, “I’ll believe it when he comes back and doesn’t attempt to kill me,” your memories flooded with your first encounter with Bucky. “Again.” 

That day on the bridge changed you. Never before had you been on a mission that came so close to disaster. His right hand effortlessly closed around your neck, you tried to fight back with punches, and kicks and even tried reaching for your gun. He maintained a distance that prevented you from gaining any ground. 

Just in the last second, the shield slammed into his back, which forced him to release his grip, sending you tumbling to the ground. 

~

Your eyes sparked with relief at Bucky’s return, and his expression mirrored yours. You suppressed the urge to rush forward and embrace Bucky, absent from The Winter Soldier. As he walked over to you, he instructed you and Sam to follow him. 

Guided by Bucky, you ventured into the dimly lit garage, relying on flashlights and Bucky’s hand to navigate. You reached for it the second you stepped into the darkness and stuck close to him as he and Sam debated the merits and risks of freeing Zemo. The tension in the air kept you silent until Bucky located the light switch. With a sigh of relief, you exhaled deeply. As you relaxed into the newfound brightness, you slipped your hand out of Bucky’s. 

“I didn’t do anything,” Bucky retorted to Sam. Recognizing his tone of voice, betraying his statement, you knew he had indeed done something. Concern gripped you as you wondered what it could be. Your attention was focused on him as he outlined a plan to free Zemo.

Startled by the door slamming shut, you instinctively moved toward the source. To your surprise, it was Zemo. He strolled into the garage as if it was his own. Maybe it was? “What the fuck, Bucky?!” you exclaimed, joining Sam in a heated exchange with Bucky about this turn of events. As Zemo attempted to interject, all three of you shut him down with a simultaneous “No!”. 

“When Steve refused to sign the Sokovia Accords, you both backed him. You both broke the law, and you stuck your necks out for me.” Bucky shifted his gaze between you and Sam, the weight of the past heavy in your eyes, tears threatening to spill. “I’m asking you to do it again.” he pleaded, his gaze softened as he looked down at you, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear. You nodded, affirming your loyalty to Bucky as Sam commanded rules to Zemo before agreeing. 

~

Sitting on a private jet beside Bucky and across from Zemo felt surreal. Their casual conversation with Sam about Marvin Gaye seemed out of place, prompting you to feign sleep, keeping your eyes closed for most of the journey. Your attention snapped back to them when they mentioned Madripoor, the destination you headed to. Intrigue sparked within you as Zemo started the topic of disguises. They have secretly been one of your favorite aspects of being an agent since the beginning. 

“Don’t touch her,” Bucky’s voice growled a warning, causing you to snap out of your feigned sleep. You opened your eyes just in time to see Zemo reaching towards your shoulder. Grateful for Bucky’s protective instinct, you glanced around feeling disoriented. Bucky was almost on his feet, presumably to stop Zemo physically. 

“Apologies,” Zemo directed to Bucky, who seemed to calm down after Zemo retreated. Zemo then brought his attention back to you. “I have picked out a dress for you to wear, Agent, to blend in,” he gestured toward the door of the jet’s toilet.

~

Unzipping the dress bag, you were surprised by the beautiful red material and its intricate details. Who would have thought Zeemo had such good taste? Without any hesitation, you shed your casual yet tactical wear and slid into the dress. You admired how it hugged your body perfectly. Rushing to see the final look, you adorned yourself with the accessories he had chosen as well. 

Stepping out of the bathroom, you revealed your new identity to your team, Bucky, Sam, and Zemo. Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise, Sam whistled appreciatively, and Zemo offered a polite nod of approval.

“Not a chance,” Bucky’s voice cut through the moment, his gaze bore into you as you walked out wearing the red dress, its neckline plunging and the hem barely covering anything below your waist, your back exposed. 

Confusion flickered across your face as you turned to him, he was looking you up and down with only his eyes still seated. “Excuse me?”

His jaw tensed as he continued to assess your appearance, “You’re not wearing that,” he stated firmly.

Your eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, “And, since when did you get an opinion?” you shot back, defiance in your voice as you met his gaze. 

The tension on the jet thickened as Bucky maintained his stance. Sam sensed the conflict brewing, he decided to step in and attempt to diffuse the situation. 

“Okay, let’s just take a minute,” He interjected, his voice was calm yet authoritative. “We’ve got more important things to worry about-”

“I’m serious,” Bucky interrupted, insisting you wouldn’t be wearing the dress. “You’ll draw too much attention.”

“This dress will not compromise the mission,” you began, your voice steady. “I’ve been in the ‘arm candy’ role for Steve enough to know what I’m doing.” you noticed the shift in his demeanor as his body tensed at the thought of you and Steve being perceived as intimate.

Sam nodded in agreement with you, “She’s got a point, Bucky,” Sam interjected, affirming your statement. He had witnessed this act on a few occasions now to know you’re right. Bucky hesitated, torn between his protective and possessive instincts over you or respecting the supposed end of your so-called relationship. After a moment of silence, a begrudging “Fine.” cut through the tension.

---

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[georgeclarkewifey]

inconvenience | g. clarke

Chapter 7: A Night Out to Remember

Summary: Noa takes a break and goes on a night out

Word Count: didn’t count it lol

Warnings: alcohol, swearing, George being a cunt

“You,” Arthur said, leaning over Noa, “need a night off, preferably tonight, and preferably clubbing.”

Noa grumbled and rolled her eyes, trying to shrug off Arthur from her shoulders.

“What I need is to finish this, have an early night and then get up tomorrow to work on the next part of this project.”

Chris, who had also let himself into Noa’s apartment slowly appeared in her field of vision, and started closing her laptop, even though she was still typing on it.

“Noa. You’re twenty two. Do what all other people your age are doing, go out clubbing - it’s Friday night, what’s one evening of fun going to do?”

She grimaced, putting her hand up to stop the lid from closing even more. “Knowing you guys, one evening of fun turns into an early morning of fun, and then a day of sleeping.”

“But you know that sleep feels so fucking good.” Chris said, poking her side. “Come on, please? You’ve been here for ages and still haven’t come out with us, cmon, you know how much fun it will be.”

The pair of guys both stared at Noa, doing their best puppy eyes. Noa glared at the two of them, before turning back to her work. Seeing as how her previous project had gone so well, she had then been given greater responsibilities on the new plans, which meant that she had to work twice as quickly to get it all done.

“Can’t, too much work.” She shot a quick apologetic smile to the two of them, before resuming her plans.

“Please Noa, you need a break, you’re going to burn yourself out.”

“Come on, you can film it too, your followers would love it.”

Since appearing on Bach and Arthur’s podcast, Noa had started a YouTube channel, uploading short videos - clips of her commuting, the world moving below her from her window, and small moments with the boys. The videos were never too long, most of them around five to ten minutes, but people seemed to enjoy them, and she had gained a somewhat healthy following.

“They love you, one of you two could film.”

“That’s not the- Noa, please. We want to spend time with you too.”

“You regularly spend time with me, you’re doing it right now.”

Chris snatched the laptop away from Noa, sprinting away as fast as his little legs could carry him. “YOU’RE COMING OUT AND THATS THE END OF IT!” He yelled, skittering into the hall and towards the elevator.

Noa threw her hands up in frustration, as well as defeat. “Fine! You win!”

“Wait, really?” Arthur asked, his face lighting up with excitement.

“Where are we going?”

“Our favourite, Coyote Ugly in Camden.”

Noa’s eyebrows raised. “You guys need to diversify your night outs.”

“You need to get changed, we’re leaving in half an hour.”

“Half an hour? Half an hour?” Noa spluttered, rising from her chair and frantically going into her bedroom, where she began to root through her wardrobe. “Thank you for the large amount of time you’ve given me to get ready.”

“I mean, you could have had an extra five minutes if you caved when we first asked.” Arthur shrugged, smiling sweetly.

Noa grabbed the item closest to her, which turned out to be a shin pad and flung it at Arthur’s head. He took that as his cue to leave.

noamurphy

liked by gkbarry_, georgeclarke and 23,492 others

noamurphy I have to take time off working apparently??? to go clubbing??? on a Friday????

comments open

bambinobecky thank god otherwise I feared you would never stop working

⮑ noamurphy committed to the grind ✍🏻

maxbalegde proper fitty x

⮑ noamurphy no you xx

chrismd10 are you finally ready

⮑ noamurphy can’t rush looking this good christopher

⮑ gkbarry_ she has a point Christopher

⮑ arthurnhill yeah Christopher

⮑ georgeclarke yeah Christopher

⮑ chrismd10 can you even walk in those

⮑ noamurphy yeah Christopher

user2 god she’s so pretty

⮑ user1 girlie is going to eat on the night out i fear

user3 George in the likes???? And comments???? What alternate universe am I in???

⮑ user4 REALLLLLLLL

“You know what?” Noa yelled over the blaring music to Chris and Arthur.

The five of them had safely made it to the club in Camden after a largely uneventful tube ride, aside from when an already tipsy ArthurTV nearly slid down the escalator handrail headfirst. Luckily, George had already grabbed his shoulders before he got any further away.

“What?”

“I’m actually enjoying myself, thanks for dragging me out!” She said, taking another swig of her drink - she wasn’t quite sure of what was in it, as Chris and George had ordered them from the bar, but nevertheless, she wouldn’t turn down a free drink.

“No worries, we’re doing this all the time!” An enthusiastic ArthurTV replied, throwing his arms around her shoulders.

“No we’re not, this is a one time special only!” She replied, gently lifting one of Arthur’s arms to loop it around George, so that she didn’t have to take the full weight of the already drunk adult.

George hadn’t been surprised when he was told that Noa had initially declined going out with them, and as much as he hated to, he had to give her credit. She was hardworking and dedicated, to say the least. - she had a better mindset and creativity than a few YouTubers he knew. And whilst she was crafting up building designs, she was filming and editing for her new and growing YouTube channel.

But what he didn’t expect was for her to appear at their door half an hour after Chris and Arthur disappeared to persuade her, wearing a black mini dress that hugged her figure perfectly. George hoped that she wouldn’t remember the way he stuttered when he first saw her, praying that she might have enough alcohol to make her forget it.

He really hoped she wouldn’t remember. He hated the idea that Noa’s presence would have any effect on him, because he really didn’t like her. George was sure of it. Didn’t like from the moment Chris and Arthur started talking about her, didn’t like her when she moved in.

So why, oh God why did she make his breath catch every time he looked at her, watching her dance effortlessly under the neon lights side by side with the Arthur’s.

As the night went on George felt himself gravitate more towards Noa, maybe it was the alcohol talking, but maybe he was starting to warm up to her. George let out a rare smile, glancing down at Noa across him, who was grinning, whilst shouting the lyrics to Cruel Summer, arm in arm with Chris.

“AND IT’S NEW! THE SHAPE OF YOUR BODY IT’S BLUE! THE FEELING I’VE GOT-“ Noa yelled, swaying to the music. Chris and Arthur were right, she definitely needed a break, and whilst maybe she would have preferred watching Lord of the Rings whilst eating an ungodly amount of popcorn, this wasn’t too bad. Though, to prevent a few in their group from having too much fun, the five decided to leave before it got too late, and then faced the arduous task of getting to the tube station with everyone in one piece.

“You’re a very attractive man…” ArthurTV slurred, holding himself up on George, which prompted him to burst out laughing at the odd outburst. “Why do you get zero women? Same goes for you Noa! Are you even dating someone?”

Noa giggled and swatted Arthur’s head. “No you idiot, you know this!” She said, skipping ahead of the pair, arm in arm with Arthur Hill.

“Well you should, y’know? George, Noa, date please and thank you.” He muttered, before turning to Chris. “Hobbit! Next weekend we get you a girlfriend!”

“How? Going to magic one into existence?” Noa teased, wiggling her fingers at the shorter man. “Scared off the Hinge date by talking about you know who too much?”

“You talked about Voldemort with a Hinge date?” Arthur screeched, pulling George into the road, trying to chase one of the light up Tuk-Tuks that was passing them.

“He means Shannon you idiot.” George chastised, pulling the brunet out of the road and harms way.

“Shannon? Fucking hell Chris, find another topic of interest.”

“Oh well fuck you lot too, and for your information Noa, it’s for a video, which I believed you agreed to help out with.”

Noa nodded sleepily, ruffling Chris’ permed hair. “Will do hobbit, will do.”

The more sober Arthur and George lead the other three into the unusually busy tube station, trying to keep everyone together as they made their to the platform.

“Hey, Arthur, we’re-we’re on a train platform,” Chris said, trying not to giggle. “New platform roulette, now?”

Noa tutted and rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t work on the tube stupid, only got like, two platforms to choose from. Need to do it at a bigger station.” She said, nodding her head enthusiastically.

Boarding the tube arm in arm, Noa collapsed next to Chris and Arthur, leaning her head on the latter’s shoulders, looking over to George and the other Arthur sitting across from them.

“Why does George hate me?” She mumbled, looking the man opposite her up and down. George was too busy on his phone to notice how Noa was gazing at him, but it wasn’t missed by the man sitting next to him.

“Huh?” Arthur mumbled, jolting awake.

“Never mind.”

“Okay.”

————————————•————————————

“Fuck.” Noa cursed, her hands covering her mouth as she spun round in the tube station, tears starting to fill her eyes. “Fuck.”

Everywhere she turned, she couldn’t spy the boys anywhere.

Panic started to creep in, as the horrific realisation began to set in, she was alone, at night, with a dead phone battery, in a part of London she didn’t know.

Noa hadn’t realised that she had been separted from the group when she stopped to complement a passing Hen Do, very taken in by the group of women all dressed as Greek Goddesses. It was about two minutes after she had started waffling about the influence of Hecate on Grecian architecture when one of the women asked her “where did those cute guys that you where with go?” did she realise that she had lost them.

Noa started chewing her thumbnail anxiously. She had no clue what to do. Whilst she had sobered up a bit, she still didn’t completely trust herself to make her way home by herself. She really wanted to cry, but she couldn’t let herself fall apart - all she had to do was think, and she could find a way out of this.

“What the big fat fuck- Noa is that you?” A wonderfully familiar Northern voice asked, causing Noa to spin on her heel, relief washing over her.

“Max?”

“Oh my god it is, I can’t believe this is how I meet you!” The excited blond yelled, tugging his boyfriend’s arm to embrace her.

“I’m so thankful you’re here you won’t believe it, I was out with the boys but I lost them and I’ve got no clue where I am and my phone is dead-“ She rambled, hugging him back.

Max’s jaw dropped. “George lost you? And didn’t stay here to look?”

“I mean it wasn’t just George, Chris and the Arthur’s were there too-“

“I can’t believe George lost you!” Max yelled, pulling his phone out. “I am going to send him many, many strongly worded messages.” He assured, pulling his phone out.

“Thanks Max, but could you maybe help me get home first?”

The blond pursed his lips and nodded, pulling her towards one of the platforms. “Of course, you look well fit too, can’t believe George left it this long to introduce us, and still he hasn’t really.”

“Yeah…” Noa agreed, smiling quickly at him. “I mean, George and I, we- we well-“

“Oh my god are you two fucking? I knew it- ANDREW I KNEW IT!” Max yelled, his jaw dropping to the floor.

“No no no- the opposite really, he actually hates me, or at least I’m pretty sure he does.”

“What the big fat fuck? But you’re gorgeous and funny? What?”

Noa blushed, batting her hand as she shrugged. “I don’t know, ever since I got here he hasn’t liked me.”

Max looked positively disgusted. “I am about to send many messages to him, and he won’t know what hit him.”

George sighed, setting his phone down on the kitchen counter. He looked across the kitchen, where Chris was pacing nervously on the phone to someone who worked at TFL, hoping they might have seen Noa.

“She’s with Max and Andrew, they found her, I think.”

“What?” Arthur asked, his head snapping up from his position on the sofa with the other Arthur. “Is she okay?” He asked, biting his lip nervously.

George shrugged. “I think so.”

Chris hung up the phone, going to join George at the kitchen counter. “You didn’t ask?”

“Max would’ve said if she wasn��t, so I guess she is.”

“Well, are they on their way back? Does she have her keys?”

“I don’t know.”

Chris had been panicking for nearly an hour about the whereabouts of his friend, lost in London, all because George was rushing to get the next tube home before ArthurTV got too zesty in public. He had called all the girls he knew in London in case they had heard anything, as well as his sister. He’d also tried to file a missing persons case, but apparently because she’d been gone less than a day, they couldn’t do anything.

He had stressed about everything that might have happened to Noa, along with the two Arthur’s. Part of him was terrified of the thought of having to tell her family the bad news, of something terrible that happened to her on his account.

So, when one of his best friends couldn’t care about her, he snapped.

“GEORGE! For once in your life give a shit! I don’t care that you’re not best friends with Noa, but you could at least care that she hasn’t been stabbed, or worse whilst alone in the tube station, which, was your fault!”

Chris was nearly shaking with anger, and he was a little happy at himself the way George looked at him in surprise.

“Chris-“

“George I’ve known Noa basically all my life, she is like a sister to me, and the fact that you don’t seem to care about that, is a massive fucking fuck you in my eyes.” Chris took a deep breath. “So, the second Noa gets back, I’m making sure she’s fine, then I’m going to sleep on her couch to make sure I don’t do anything stupid, and then I’m going to continue this conversation, when I’m fully sober and have had sleep. Sound good?”

George, who had practically gone into shock, simply nodded and gulped nervously.

The two Arthur’s couldn’t help but watch from the sofa, the pair of them exchanging glances. The room had descended into silence, which was broken a few minutes later by a knock on the door.

Chris practically ran across the room to throw the door open, and immediately pulled Noa into the tightest hug he could muster.

“I’m okay Chris, I’m okay.” She reassured, holding him close as the pair rocked back and forth.

“I was so worried.” He muttered, pulling back, so he could check her over for injuries.

“I was fine, Max and Andrew got me to the right tube station, and I’m here, all in one piece.”

Chris nodded, sighing in relief.

“Oh, yeah, can I stay round yours tonight?”

Noa nodded, even though she was slightly taken aback why. Though, after a glance into the apartment, seeing the sullen face of George staring sullenly at his phone, and the shocked but relieved faces of both Arthur’s, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what happened.

“Of course, go grab your stuff.”

The hangover wouldn’t be the only painful thing that they’d all have to endure tomorrow.

[deluxewhump]

was carlo ever punished for breaking those plates?

referencing this chapter

@doumidas-whumps the rice sorting in your recent piece made me rethink what au max would actually do or want!

Max Holstrom AU (the one where he is Erik's nephew and Carlo was a gift to him)

CW: pet/slave whump, casual talk of ownership, affectionate touching (that is enjoyed),gentle but firm carewhumper master.

In the days following the holiday break, Carlo gathered his courage and approached Max in the front living room.

“I just wanted to ask you when you thought you might…” he trailed off, face growing warm, hoping the youngest Holstrom wasn’t going to make him finish his sentence. 

Max waited expectantly. Unable, it seemed, to read his pet’s mind like his uncle Erik was uncannily good at. 

“At Christmas,” Carlo tried instead, hoping context might help. “When the plates got broken..." Erik’s calm, dangerous voice played like a tape in his head. Take responsibility, Carlo, one would think you’re afraid of the words I and me. "When I broke those plates," he corrected.

Still, Max was patiently waiting for the rest of the sentence. He wondered if it was just to torture him, but immediately doubted it. Max was many things, he was discovering, but he was almost never insincere. 

“You said you would work something out for it later. For me."

Recognition finally crossed Max’s eyes, grey like his mothers. He set down his phone, giving Carlo his full attention. “Right. I did.”

“That was three days ago,” Carlo all but whispered.

“Have you been waiting?” asked Max. 

He didn’t know the right answer to that. And what was worse, he suspected there wasn’t one. He shrugged his right shoulder so quickly it was as noncommittal as if he hadn’t done it at all. 

“I didn’t mean to leave you in suspense,” Max grinned, leaning forward with his head tilted low to try and gain Carlo's eye contact. When he wasn’t granted it, he sat back up straighter. “I really wasn’t trying to leave you hanging,” he said, with much less teasing in his voice this time. “I forgot all about the dishes.”

Carlo was learning that Max’s teasing was apparently harmless, and just beneath it was a vein of warm affection. Still, he was wary with a tone like that. He was more used to it concealing vast coldness, like a thin layer of ice on a black lake.

He gave Max the eye contact he’d denied him moments before. “I bet your mother didn’t forget about them.”

“And she never will, but that’s not your problem. You’re not hers any more than you’re my uncle’s, now. That’s the thing about inheriting something from family, they will forever act like it’s not entirely yours. If that china meant so much to her, she should’ve taken it with her ten years ago when she moved out and gave me the house. And my uncle should not have hit you.”

Carlo’s gaze had wandered but shot back up to his master’s. Max had not addressed the slap in the face Erik had given him that day. He wasn't even sure he was aware of it until now.

“But that’s not your problem either,” said Max. “That one’s mine. I’ll talk to him.”

He was lightheaded at the mere idea of anyone talking to Erik Holstrom in such a manner. And Max still hadn’t answered his question.

He lowered himself to the Persian carpet, kneeling next to Max and letting his chin rest on the chair next to his knee. Max answered the entreating gesture with a hand in his hair, petting softly. “What is it?”

“So...what will my punishment be?”

“I’d forget altogether if you didn’t keep reminding me,” he laughed softly. “I have to take into consideration that it was an accident, that it was partially a dog’s fault, and that you’ve reminded me twice to punish you for it.” He slid his fingers into the hair at the back of Carlo’s head and gave a gentle squeeze. Carlo exhaled in pleasure and thought he felt his blood pressure drop, his eyes immediately growing heavy.

Max was by far the most physically affectionate as well as the most forgiving of the Holstrom men. But for a pet that had been given affectionate touch only ever as a reward, he did not mind. In fact, he craved it constantly from this younger, better natured master, and only realized how much he’d been hoping for it once he’d gotten it.

“I want you to help me with something for my work. It’s tedious, and I don’t really have time for it.”

Carlo pulled back from the heavenly touch, taken aback. He looked up at Max from his knee, imagining unfamiliar computer software and dreadfully important figures on a screen. “I don’t… I don’t know how to do any of that." 

“It’s not hard. I’ll have to teach you what I want you to do, but after that you just need to be patient and careful so you don’t miss anything. I'm not kidding when I say it's tedious work. Can you be patient and careful?” he asked, gliding his thumb over Carlo’s throat ever so slightly, like he was enjoying the softness of the skin.

“Yes,” he said, about to argue. “But…”

“Hey,” Max stopped him, more serious than he’d been before. “This is what I want you to do. It would actually help me. Starving you or beating you with a switch or whatever is really no use to me, and I don't care about it. The plates were my great grandmother’s, yes. But it happens. It doesn't upset me. What will piss me off is if you give me any more pushback on the way I’m choosing to do things with you.”

He swallowed, feeling the light outline of Max’s hand lying so nonchalant on his neck. It was alarming to be chastised by him. He didn't like it half as well as his approval, though it made him tingle in a unique shame that was different from outright fear. “Yes, sir.”

“You mean it?”

He did.

Max, still too gentle to do anything as suggestive as squeezing his neck, lifted two fingers to his ear and pinched the skin of his earlobe so he flinched in surprise but not pain. “Good.”

[stellar-constellations]

Star Patient: Chapter 4 (FINISHED SERIES)

WARNING: This series will include; possible inaccurate medical procedures and medical setting, gore, toxic relationships that should NOT be replicated in real life, murder, yanderes, cursing, suicide mentions, implications of misandry (male misogyny), and possibly more.

Inaccurate canon-timeline (this is before Ashley and Andrew murdered their parents).

Reader has a small fear of adult men/rape and has a history of suicide attempts.

Incest is not Wincest.

Amnesiac! Obsessive! Patient! Andrew Graves x Yandere! Nurse! Reader:

Wordcount: 11,018 words

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, current chapter, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, final chapter.

Want to listen to music while reading? Check out the Star Patient's Official Playlists! Multiple different playlists and genres!

        "Andy."

        "Hey Andy, wake up..."

        "Andrew."

        "Andrew, wake up!" 

        Andrew shot awake, before letting out a hiss, clutching his head as it pounded terribly. He cradled his head, before turning his attention to his bedside, where Ashley stood. 

        "What are you doing here?" Andrew questioned, still holding his head. "You manage to worm your way in here that quickly after getting banned?" 

        "Hospital security sucks." She hummed. "That, or they just hire any idiot off the street."

        "Maybe you can get a job here." Andrew commented sarcastically, earning a half-hearted glare from his sister. "But you still didn't answer my question. Why are you here?" 

        "Well, how are you healing? Are we ready to get out of here?" Ashley questioned, sitting down on his bedside, the uneven distribution of weight on his bed causing his injured legs to shift, making him wince. 

        "I don't know..." he hissed between his teeth as pain shot through his legs and head. "I think it'd be best for me to stay here until I can walk again. We have no where to go when I heal up, and the nurse said I'd have to be bedridden for a few weeks to make sure my legs heal and get strong again." He spoke. "I bet there's probably going to have to be physical therapy too for my legs, so I can walk and crap." 

        "Ugh... healing broken bones takes too long. I feel like a kid watching their grandpa die." She groaned, physically deflating. 

        "What's the rush?" Andrew questioned. "We're out of our old city, and it's not like anyone's following us anymore." 

        Ashley had a look on her face, a flash of hesitancy appeared on her face, gaining Andrew's immediate interest. "I just... I had a dream last night, from the demon, and..." she paused, looking away as she thought what to say.

        "And...? And what?" Andrew questioned, prompting for her to go on.

        "Ah, never mind." She huffed, a little frustrated. "It's not something you can help with, being bedridden and all." 

        "Are you sure?" Andrew questioned, seeming concerned. "You can tell me—" 

        "Don't worry about it, Andy!" Ashley smiled, plastering on a fake smile. "It's nothing too big. So, how are the nurses and doctors treating you?" 

        "Good..." Andrew muttered. 

        He was concerned about Ashley's strange behavior, but he knew that if she didn't want to talk, she sure as hell won't. 

        "They're all fine... Some of the nurses and doctors here are pretty weird, but the one nurse that takes care of me seems pretty nice." Andrew explained. "but, she works in the pediatric branch so I don't see her much." Andrew quickly added, hoping that his lack of time and attention to the nurse would save him from another argument between the siblings.

        "A nurse? Is she pretty?" Ashley questioned, keeping up her innocent smile.

        Andrew knew this trap very well. He opted to look away from her eyes, staring out the window at the daylight outside.

        "No..." he lied. "I wouldn't say that."

        "Really? Even with her pretty (e/c) eyes and (h/c) hair?" Ashley questioned.

        When did Ashley meet (Y/N)? Ashley had never been in the hospital during the night, so there's no way she met her inside the hospital.

        "How did you know what she looked like? Did you meet (Y/N)?" Andrew questioned, curious as he turned his gaze back at Ashley.

        "I knew it..." Ashley muttered, a distasteful expression on her face. 

        "What?" Andrew questioned, confused.

        "Don't worry about it." Ashley spoke, standing up from the bed's end, the small movement causing Andrew's legs to hurt a bit. "I'm gonna go grab food. I didn't get any on the way here. I'll see you later, Andrew." Ashley smiled.

        Before Andrew could open his mouth, Ashley walked out of his room, exploring the hospital as she avoided the nurses and security guards who could recognize her. She was able to snatch a scalpel lying in one of the empty doctor offices while a nurse was cleaning the exam table, headphones in her ears as she blasted music. Quite unprofessional really, but it helped Ashley get a weapon that was actually useful rather than an empty handgun. 

        She shoved it in her pocket and waited around the hospital for hours, changing her hiding spot every now and then. She made sure to stay in the pediatric branch, the branch Andrew said that pretty little nurse worked in. In one of her hiding spots, two little boys were rummaging around before they discovered her.

        The two had been looking around for their parents after escaping their hospital rooms, Ashley figured due to them calling out “Mom! Dad!” in the hallways. They got to her hiding spot and opened the white curtain she was hiding behind, looking to see if their parents were behind there (kid logic, it makes no sense).

        Before the two could scream, Ashley quickly covered their mouths with her hands.

        “Don’t be brats now, stay quiet.” She hissed.

        They looked at each other, then her, before nodding. Ashley looked hesitant to let them go, but she didn’t want to be discovered, so she moved her hands from their mouths, wiping her hands on her shirt.

        “Are you a ghost?” one of the kids whispered.

        “No.” She answered, her expression a mix between boredom and displeasure.

        “Are you a nurse?” the other questioned. 

        “No.” Ashley scoffed, her tone almost sounding offended that they had the audacity to say that. “Like I’d work with kids."

        “So, who are you? What are you doing here?” one of the blond boys questioned.

        “I’m playing hide and seek with one of my friends.” She lied. “Leave, you’re gonna give away my hiding spot.” She huffed, grabbing the curtain and closing it to shield her from view.

        Before the kids could ask to play too (having already forgotten their parents), they heard footsteps, followed by a voice.

        “What are you two doing?” a female questioned, her shadow being seen through the curtain. 

        Both of the boys jumped, letting out squeals as they turned to look at her. Ashley grabbed the scalpel she stole out of her pocket, holding it tightly in her hand. Whether it was the she was looking for or not, she’d kill her if she gets discovered.

        “N-nothing! Just… playing!” one of the boys spoke nervously.

        Good… Ashley thought, smirking. 

        “I’m Tom, that’s Jerry.” One introduced themselves.

        “Like the cartoon?” the nurse questioned.

        Funny. Ashley thought sarcastically, rolling her eyes at the joke.

        “Um… yes?” one of them spoke, hesitant in their answer.

        “Well, it sure matches you both, since you sneaked out of your rooms.” The nurse commented. “Who are you talking to?” she questioned.

        Ashley’s grip on the scalpel’s handle tightened, wiggling her shoulders to loosen up a bit in case the nurse got too curious, getting ready to kill her.

        “Come along now.” The nurse spoke.

        Ashley watched the two small shadows walk away from her hiding spot. The nurse stayed for a second, keeping her attention on the curtain, before she guided the two boys away from her. Ashley peeked her head out of the curtain, seeing a nurse with two little boys walking away. The nurse had (h/c) hair, but Ashley couldn’t see the color of her eyes.

        Damn. Ashley thought. I think that was just my target…

        She couldn’t be certain per se, but it was certainly the best description so far. 

        Well, it’s not the end of the world. In fact, it’s probably for the best. If she killed the girl in this hospital, not only could she get medical assistance from others in the hospital if something goes wrong, but it’d be a pain in the ass to hide the body somewhere here too (not to mention the security cameras). If someone died in the hospital, they’d check the security cameras and find Ashley, then Andrew would be in trouble too since Ashley walked in his room and he was left unharmed. 

        If she can’t kill her in the hospital, she’d just kill her at home. She can just hitch a ride in (Y/N)’s car, it’s really not that hard. Ashley can just follow the girl out of the hospital and either threaten her with the empty gun (not like the nurse would know) or she can just unlock her car depending on her car’s model.

        Ashley made sure to follow behind (Y/N) for the rest of the night. Luckily, she didn’t have to wait too long. After rushing out of the staff room, she ran to the elevators. Ashley took the chance to rush down the hallway and slide down the hospital staircase railing, reaching the elevator’s lobby. She followed (Y/N) out of the hospital lobby, following her to her car. 

        (Y/N) unlocked the car and hopped in the driver’s seat, Ashley timing opening and closing the door from her the back passenger side on her right. (Y/N) buckled her seatbelt, turning up the radio to a random jazz station this late at night and sitting in her car, thinking in silence.

        (Y/N) seemed to be muttering to herself, this combined with the radio on allowed Ashley to situate herself onto the car floor, away from (Y/N)’s vision. Maybe if (Y/N) wasn’t so upset, or maybe if she drove in silence without the auditory distraction, she would’ve noticed Ashley behind her; but she didn’t.

        Ashley decided not to kill (Y/N) at the moment. If (Y/N) died, they’d crash and Ashley could potentially die or be hospitalized; which would give her a one-way ticket to jail after they examine (Y/N)’s body and realized she didn’t die from the crash.

        (Y/N) kept muttering as she drove, seemingly annoyed. Ashley was a bit curious of what she was so upset about (Penelope’s potential crush for Andrew, she was upset about) but Ashley stayed quiet; it would be pretty stupid to say “hey, what are you muttering about?” when you snuck into your victim’s car to kill them. 

        The drive wasn’t too long, but to Ashley it felt like an entirety. When the car stopped, (Y/N) turned off the radio and stayed in the car for a few minutes, her hands gripping the steering wheel as she stared into space absentmindedly. She finally let out a sigh, then unlocked her car and hopped out. (Y/N) locked the car and walked to her apartment door on the first floor outside, opening the door and shutting it behind her. 

        Ashley undid the car door lock on the inside, popping up the lock button and carefully exiting the car (after a small heart attack from the inner lights of the car turning on once she opened the door). She made sure there were no people in the parking lot, then she shut the car door behind her and ran up to (Y/N)’s apartment. 

        Ashley walked up to the door, carefully trying the door handle to see if it was unlocked. It was.

        This is almost pathetic how easy it is…

        Either the work day tired her out, or she really has no common sense or street smarts.

        Ashley slinked into the apartment, the house pitch black. (Y/N) didn’t even bother trying to light up the house, now this was starting to get almost sad.

        Ashley crept carefully through the hallway, using her hands to guide her through the dark. Ashley made it to an opening that led into the living room, the only source of light being the window that showed the sun starting to rise.

        (Y/N) was on her back as she laid on her couch, staring up at the ceiling silently, no thoughts seeming to go through her mind.

        Okay, now this is depressing. Very depressing. Ashley almost felt a little sorry taking her life; or, what was left of it really, which wasn’t much it seemed.  

        Ashley carefully walked past the depressed nurse, finding her kitchen. Ashley decided she didn’t want the scalpel anymore and she traded it for a long kitchen knife instead, 8 inches long with a sharp, pointy blade. 

        She held the knife as she explored more of the house, finding (Y/N)’s room. The room was probably the most decorated of the house, with small plotted pants in the window (surprisingly alive, a comparison to their soon-to-be-dead owner). Her room wasn’t decorated much, having a dresser, a closet, a bookshelf of books, a bed, and a desk. Her walls were pretty plain, and she barely had anything on her dresser to hold other than a multimedia center on it.

        Even her bedding was a plain grey, but there were colorful soft plushies that covered the bed to brighten up the room.

        Ashley’s unsure if that’s childish or even more pathetic, needing plushies to replace humans? That’s just depressing.

        Ashley was starting to doubt if it was even worth killing this woman, her life is already pathetic enough as it is. Ashley even contemplated if someone would even miss her. For now, Ashley hid behind the bedroom door and waited for (Y/N) to walk in… whenever she decides to stop sulking on the couch.         .         .

        (Y/N) laid on her couch, staring at the ceiling pathetically. She couldn’t be bothered to think, or even recall her day. Days and week just all just seemed to blur into one now. If one of her patients told her this is how they felt in life, she’d be considered and talk with Doctor Ryan about scheduling an appointment with a therapist; but (Y/N) had been living like this since she was a child. It doesn’t affect her as much as it did when she was a child.

        Being alone doesn’t hurt anymore.

        I need to get up and shower… (Y/N) thought. 

        She turned on her side, staring at her reflection in her TV. She looked pathetic curled up on the couch like that. 

        She wanted to get up and get ready for deal, get rid of all the germs and hazardous matter that was stuck on her clothes and skin, but walking to the bathroom just seemed like a challenge. 

        She groaned, pausing a few seconds, before getting up from her couch and sluggishly walking to her room.

        I just need to shower, eat a meal, then sleep. I should be feeling better tomorrow. She thought, telling herself the same lie she’s told herself for years. 

        She walked down her hallway, a plain hallway. It was nothing but bare wall, just about as empty as she felt here alone. She had no paintings to put up (and deciding what she’d hang up would be too much of a struggle). She didn’t want to hang up any of her awards or accomplishments, they held no meaning if her parents couldn’t see the victory or praise her for it. She had no family pictures, and even if she did, she wouldn’t have felt pride about the woman that would stand in the frame—not herself or her mother.

        She let out a soft sigh, maybe she should get a pet? Sleeping in a bed covered with stuffed animals doesn't really make loneliness any better, just makes sleep more comfortable. Pets are great for depression too! But it'd be so bothersome trying to choose one, yet alone have time for it... maybe she could just get her a reptile, something that can live inside of a habitat and won't need much care; be independent and uncaring to touch, unlike her own needs.

        She opened her bedroom door, flicking on the light switch. She stepped inside, rummaging through her drawers for a comfortable set of pajamas. Ashley stood in the corner, watching (Y/N) from behind the open bedroom door, before she decided to take her chance. 

        She carefully crept behind (Y/N), a kitchen knife in hand, one she stole from (Y/N)'s kitchen since Andrew wasted all the bullets in her gun when he shot that hitman in the park. She was a little nervous, it’d be her first kill without Andrew or the help of her demon friend.

        As much as she’d like to give (Y/N)’s soul to the demon, this felt more like a personal kill. Surely the demon wouldn’t mind too much if Ashley gave them a dead body instead of a living person.

        Ashley raised her knife in the air, planning to hit (Y/N)’s neck. She’d rather make this quick, they’re in an apartment complex so there’s neighbors around; she’d rather not have anyone hear what’s going on.

        Before Ashley could plunge the knife down, (Y/N) turned around, her clothes in hand as she looked at Ashley. Her eyes widened, surprised, before it trailed to the silver blade in her hands.

        “…Hey?” Ashley smiled, feigning an amused smile to hide the nervousness she felt in committing this act alone for the first time.

        “Are you… trying to kill me with my own kitchen knife?” (Y/N) questioned, recognizing the blade almost immediately.

        She even looked a bit annoyed that Ashley had the audacity to kill her with her own knife, her own money and cooking utensil being used against her. That’s indeed a bit frustrating once you push away that fear, recognizing you’re about to die.

        “Uh, yeah?” Ashley confirmed. “Are you gonna fight, or is this gonna be—“ 

        (Y/N) quickly grabbed her bottle of perfume before Ashley could finish her sentence, spraying Ashley in the eyes. 

        Yeah, not easy, it seemed.

        “Fuck!” Ashley hissed, squeezing her eyes shut as she swung her knife rapidly in the air. 

        (Y/N) was trapped between Ashley and the dresser, trying to avoid the knife before it slashed her forearm. (Y/N) took the chance, using her dresser for leverage as she placed her foot on the dresser for a boost, smashing her shoulder into Ashley’s chest, pushing her away. 

        Ashley stumbled on the ground, the knife laying next to her as her eyes stung from the potent citrusy perfume. (Y/N) rushed past Ashley, but Ashley heard her steps and reached out. With luck, she successfully grabbed (Y/N)’s leg and tripped her, resorting in her falling right next to Ashley. 

        “Fucking bitch.” Ashley hissed venomously, feeling for her knife through her blurred vision.

        She felt the cold blade, reaching a bit lower and grabbing the handle, keeping a strong hold of it. She kept ahold of (Y/N)’s leg as she stabbed her calf, hitting bone. 

        A terrible sharp and tingling sensation shot through (Y/N)’s leg, seeing white for a second as the pain caught up. (Y/N) let out a gasp, verging on a scream, before Ashley raised the knife once more, plunging it in a spot near the  first wound.

        (Y/N) reached back and kicked Ashley in the face a few times, resulting in Ashley letting go of (Y/N)’s foot. Ashley groaned, standing up from the ground as (Y/N) clutched her leg, knowing it wouldn’t be wise to try and stand up in case of any tearing or excessive bleeding. It’s not like she could run far now.

        Ashley stood over her, tears in her eyes as she did her best to see through them and fight the stinging. They both glared at each other, needing no words to show their distaste in one another.

        “I wouldn’t have to do this if you would’ve just stayed away from Andrew.” Ashley spoke, glaring down at her.

        “Not my fault he prefers me. Maybe if you weren’t so obsessive and insecure he could somewhat tolerate your sorry ass.” (Y/N) retorted, a pained smile on her face to piss Ashley off.

        “You’re one to talk.” She chuckled. “Must be real nice to come home alone, pathetically lounging around lazily.”

        “I’m lazy because of hard work. What do you do for a living other than blowing heads and giving it?” (Y/N) chuckled at her vulgar comment (one with lack of evidence, but it wasn't supposed to be a fact), a smile on her face as she observed Ashley. “Doesn’t take much to use that mouth of yours, considering how big it is from all that big shit you talk.” 

        If Ashley wasn’t mad now, she was absolutely livid now at (Y/N)’s insult. She bent down and grabbed a fistful of (Y/N)’s hair, grabbing a fistful of it as she dragged (Y/N) up. (Y/N) stood on her one leg, keeping any weight off her injured one as Ashley glared at her.

        “I can’t wait to kill you. I’ll even bring your head to Andrew so he could see how pathetic you look with your eyes rolled back and tongue hanging out. Hell, I think I’ll cut that tongue out after I’m done with you, that way you can’t bother the devil with it.” She hissed. 

        “You gonna eat it after? Have your own tongue-action with me since you’re so jealous?” (Y/N) chuckled. “Or would you rather that with your own brother? That’s pretty disgusting, if you ask me. Mommy and daddy didn’t give you enough attention so you had to resort to your own brother.”

        Yes, because (Y/N) definitely had a healthy relationship with her parents to say that...

        “I would never eat you. You’re too salty, and that’s not just your attitude too.” Ashley smirked. “After I cut your tongue out and take your head to Andrew, I’ll give your soul to that demon for some vision, then I’ll dump your body in some alley for some homeless man to use.” 

        “Demon?” (Y/N) questioned. “Of course you’d have connections with demons.” 

        “What can I say?” Ashley smiled as a stabbing sensation hit (Y/N)’s stomach. “I get around.”

        “Yeah…” (Y/N) groaned, a pained chuckle escaping her. “I can tell…” 

        Ashley took the knife out of (Y/N’s stomach, going to plunging again, but (Y/N) quickly used her nails and smashed them into Ashley’s eyes, kneeing Ashley with her injured leg since she couldn’t use her healthy once because she’d just fall once applying pressure to her injured leg.

        Ashley let out a short scream at the feeling. Ashley tumbled backwards as (Y/N) followed, using her weight to hold Ashley down as Ashley thrashed about. Ashley tried to stab (Y/N) again, but (Y/N) grabbed her wrists, the two of them struggling for the knife.

        “Let go!” Ashley shouted, one of her eyes covered by (Y/N)’s sharp thumb.

        “You first!” (Y/N) retorted, knowing very well the both of them wouldn't give up as she moved her other hand to the knife, now having both of her hands to try and fight for the knife. (Y/N) ignored the stinging in her forearm from earlier’s slashing.

        (Y/N) was able to grab the knife from Ashley’s hands after a bit of a struggle and a few small cuts on the finger. She held onto the blade tightly as Ashley tried to keep (Y/N)’s wrist steady. It was proven fruitless as the first stab hit Ashley’s chest, hitting bone. Ashley let out a choked sob, pain pooling out of her mouth and chest.

        (Y/N) scoffed, a bit annoyed at Ashley's struggle. If Ashley would just keep still, it wouldn’t hurt as bad. She was willing to make it quick, but Ashley’s squirming and thrashing around was only making her miss.

        “Stop moving.” (Y/N) hissed, using her injured hand to hold Ashley still by her neck.

        (Y/N) struck the knife down again, stabbing Ashley’s sternum. And again, she stabbed her chest, over and over as Ashley let out pained groans and small whimpers, doing her best to claw (Y/N)’s hands. Her hands weakened, her protests and strangled breaths shortening as her pulse weakened under (Y/N)’s hold while (Y/N)’s pulse and breaths only quickened, as if Ashley was giving her own life to her.

        She kept stabbing...

        She kept stabbing...

        She kept stabbing.

        It was like she couldn’t control her hand, like she had no thought other than the echo in her ears.

        Stab…

        Stab…

        Stab.

        She didn’t stop until her hand was soaked, too wet to hold the knife right. She realized she had been stabbing all the way down to the hilt, eight inches that was repeatedly stabbing into Ashley’s chest.

        (Y/N) paused, staring down at Ashley’s face, both faces void of emotion and thought. 

        I did that. She realized.

        A sick turning sensation lurked in her stomach, making her realize she was stabbed in an vital point. She dropped her knife, groaning as she hissed. She got up off Ashley’s dead body, crawling her way to her bathroom, making sure not to get any blood on her carpet. It would've been better for her if Ashley just kept the knife in her stomach, keeping the wound plugged in, but unfortunately Lady Luck seems to avoid (Y/N) any chance she can. 

        She opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a med-kit. Well, that’s one thing useful about being a nurse, you’re always prepared at home.

        She opened the kit, but paused. She couldn’t just open up her stomach and stitch up the insides, but if she goes to the hospital like this she’d definitely get questioned. (Y/N) groaned, mulling over what she should do. 

        She didn’t mean to kill Ashley. Well, she did in self-defense, but she didn’t mean to do it so cruelly. It was almost like second-nature to harm her.

        But she deserved it, didn’t she? She hurt Andrew, (Y/N) remembers that. Ashley made him jump, she’s the one that broke his legs and gave him internal bleeding in his head. (Y/N) made not know much about Ashley, but she knows how manipulative she is. She remembered hearing Ashley screaming at Andrew the first day she met Andrew. She remembered Ashley accusing Andrew of all the crimes he did; of course, he committed them, but she helped too, so she was still at fault. 

        The Graves siblings, even their name is fitting. Two siblings who put others in their graves, and now one is in their own. 

        (Y/N) couldn’t go to the police, not with this. It was self-defense, maybe with the intent of third-degree murder, a spur of the moment, nevertheless it was to protect herself even if she did get a bit carried away. She surely can’t just blame it all on stress or childhood neglect, she’d be a hypocrite.

        She always refused to let her past get in the way of her future. The love she didn’t receive from her parents, she gave to herself. The support she never received from her parents, she gave to herself. She earned all her awards, her scholarships, her jobs, her money all on her own without any support, encouragement, or financial aid from her parents.

        Her mother didn’t believe she could be a nurse. Her mother never really had any faith in her, but her mother never did stick around her long enough to bother learning who were daughter was.

        “You’re far too apathetic and antisocial for that sort of thing, they'd be scared of you.” Her mother would say. “All you care about is yourself. You’d be fired within the first week for neglecting the kids..”

        Ironic coming from her.

        Her father didn’t want her to be a nurse either, not for pediatrics or adults. 

        “It’s just not a good idea. You’re too sensitive for such things. You couldn’t survive watching kids die everyday, that’s such a depressing job.” Her father would say. “You shouldn’t be a nurse in general. Adult men take advantage of caring nurses, it doesn’t help that you’re so... weak? You're just too innocent and pretty for that kind of work! It’s best you find something else. Do something that makes you happy!” 

        Yeah, she totally refuse to let her past get in her way... Her apartment was as void of color as her. She slept with plushies to cope with her loneliness. On bad days, she has no friends to call or parents who'd listen to her vent, so the stuffed animals listen to her instead. She doesn't ever have energy to eat or shower or clean, the only reason she does all those things is to keep herself somewhat healthy so she wouldn't draw any attention from others. She wouldn't want to be a bother to them over some measly emotions. She's dealt with depression practically her whole life, why suddenly indulge in change if it might worsen her condition. 

        She doesn't want to be happy, that would involve having to put energy into changing herself and her lifestyle, and all she wants to do is spend her energy hopping into bed and sleeping. She wasn't one to care for herself, she liked making other people happy. 

        Kids made her happy. Medicine made her happy. She loved working with kids, caring and nurturing for them like they were her own. She liked being the reason a kid could walk again, or talk, or play, or smile. She liked helping children, giving them the help they needed. She liked being able to change their lives, catch those early signs and prevent them from becoming herself; someone absolutely miserable, depressed, and hating herself. Hell, the only reason she hasn't killed herself was because she doesn't want to be a bother to other people. 

        She liked medicine. She liked studying medical advancements, all the new machines and inventions and vaccines and diseases and all! She liked learning about it all; medical procedures, illnesses and disorders, psychology facts, disorders, injuries, hell sometimes medicine could even dive into philosophy! 

        Medicine and kids made her happy because it was what she lacked as a child. She liked being a pediatric nurse, she liked giving kids the chance to receive help early on so they could be functional adults in life, so they couldn't end up like (Y/N); a mother who couldn't care about her, a misguided father, money being towards bills and education, no relationships or genuine connections or friendships with people, and no joy in life other than sleeping her days away. As a nurse, she could catch onto early symptoms for kids and be able to address the issues before it worsen; whether it'd be physical or mental health, that's why she's studying to be a pediatrician now. 

        But she can't be a pediatrician if she goes to jail. This act of self-defense was far too cruel and grotesque, the judges wouldn't believe that it was for self-defense, far too homicidal and beast-like with how she basically just slashed Ashley's ribcage open. No, she wouldn't win that court case at all. She'd lose her job, and she'd probably never be able to work in medical field ever! She needed to do something.

        She put the med-kit back into her cabinet, instead she took off her shoe and grabbed her sock, plugging up her wound with it. Yes, it was very gross and she felt like gagging at this, but it was to insure she wouldn't bleed out. She had been stabbed in her stomach with an 8-inch knife, so no doubt there would be internal damage she couldn't patch up on her own. She used her other sock to plug in the hole on her right calf, plugging the wound up until it was stuffed despite the pain she felt digging her fingers into the wound. She put back on her shoes without her socks and stood up from the ground

        She quickly got to work, grabbing two large black blankets. She wrapped up Ashley's body in both blankets, ensuring the blood wouldn't drip everywhere, and she dragged the body to her car. She put the body and knife in her trunk and limped back into her house, quickly mopping up the mess using hydrogen peroxide on her floors to completely get rid of all the blood. She put her phone on her charger at home, leaving it so the police couldn't track her location on her phone in case anything happens. She got in her car and drove, going further and further out of the city until a good distance away, going to the woods. She got the dead body and knife out of her car, dragging it a good ways into the dark woods before dropping it. 

        She couldn't leave the body in her apartment, and she couldn't just drop it off somewhere in the city when her DNA was under Ashley's fingernails when Ashley scratched her. She left the knife here too, she didn't want to keep a knife she almost got murdered with, and she didn't want to keep it as a trophy for her crimes either. Here in these woods, this is where the police will least likely find her and the murder weapon, at least for tonight. Tomorrow, (Y/N) will return and dig a grave for her, or maybe she'll luck out a wild animal will feast on her. Even then, nobody will probably miss her other than Andrew.

        Jesus, what is she gonna tell Andrew? She can't just say she killed his sister! Even if he's a runaway criminal, she's one too now! He's probably not against murdering her, even if he doesn't like her better than the other nurses. I mean, she killed his sister, so it's only natural for him to kill her?

        But, his sister was just a runaway, she was a criminal! Maybe there's no police looking for them, but still! (Y/N) was a nurse, she's saved plenty of lives, surely taking one can't be that bad? Especially if she took a wrongdoer's life? 

        Before she could turn around and walk out of the woods, she stopped, pausing. She had this nagging feeling to check Ashley’s pockets. It was like a gut instinct (or perhaps literally being gutted earlier) that told her to check. She got on the ground, undoing the blankets and checking Ashley’s pockets to sate this desire. She first found a gun in her waistband. (Y/N) took the gun, popping out the magazine to check how many rounds there were.

        None, empty. Either Ashley found this gun with no bullets, or she already used them.

        (Y/N) did some more digging and found a scalpel, a hospital scalpel from her work she could only assume. Perhaps Ashley was planning to kill (Y/N) with the small blade, before deciding to steal her kitchen knife instead. The bigger the better, right?

        Finally, she looked in Ashley's pockets once more and found something in one of her pockets. Some black and red occult looking charm.

        She remembered Ashley mentioning how she’d give a demon (Y/N)’s soul in exchange for a vision. Is this their charm that keeps them in contact, or in a contract together? Whatever it was, (Y/N) felt like she should keep it in case it was indeed something to a demon; she didn’t want it going into the wrong hands (as if she could talk). (Y/N) shoved the charm into her pocket, keeping the gun and scalpel now that it had her fingerprints, before turning around.

        Did you see this coming, Ashley? (Y/N) thought, resisting the urge to let a smug smirk form on her face. 

        She limped back out of the woods, hopping into her car and hiding the two weapons under her car seat away from view. She turned the engine on, speeding to the hospital and going ten above the speed limit. It wasn't good for her to be out for so long. She could live with her leg being injured so long as she didn't bleed out, but her stomach could definitely develop to internal bleeding, if not already due to how big that knife was. On her way there, she tried thinking of an alibi. This is a knife wound, so it's mandatory for the hospital staff to report this incident to the police. The police are going to ask her questions about what happened and such. (Y/N) doesn't want to come clean, if she does, her whole life would be ruined! She'd lose the only thing she has in her life that she genuinely cares about; her job. If she loses her job and education, she'd be completely lost in this world with absolutely no passions or interests, she might just develop an interest for putting herself in a grave instead and take her life. 

        She thought about her alibi, before cooking up a shitty one. It's the only one she has for a time like this. She can just say that she was driving to the small local store near her apartment complex after work (thus explaining her hospital scrubs), and when she walked out, she was harassed by a man so she fought him and escaped, then drove to the hospital to get medical assistance. She could say she didn't recognize the man, and that he wore a mask so she couldn't see what he looked like. The store she was thinking about just had their cameras stolen a week ago and they have't bother replacing them yet, so there would be no camera footage to confirm or deny this accusation. Her apartment complex is on a bad side of town too (the rent was cheap there), and their camera footage must not be any higher than a quality of a Nokia, so it most likely didn't catch Ashley sneaking into her apartment, or (Y/N) dragging something out out her apartment. Maybe she can pull this off!

        Sure, it's a bad excuse, but what else does she have? This is the best she can come up with on short notice, especially with no witnesses (which is good), along with no camera footage to protect or challenge her word. They'd just have to believe her because what else can they do? She's obviously injured! People in big cities get stabbed all the time and sometimes the assaulters get away with it, maybe she can do this too! 

        (Y/N) got to the hospital entrance and quickly made sure to do a check in her car to make sure there was no DNA of Ashley's. She hopped out of the car and brushed off any dirt or hair or such on her, making sure her gun and scalpel were hidden under her car seat, before limping into the hospital lobby and getting inside of the ER waiting room. 

        The receptionist sat doing work on her computer before her eyes trailed to (Y/N). 

        “Are you okay?” they questioned as (Y/N) held onto her stomach, applying pressure to the sock.

        “I got stabbed in the stomach and my calf. I’ve been bleeding for quite a while, I reckon I’ll pass out soon.” She explained. 

        The nurse nodded and handed her the paperwork to complete. (Y/N) always thought paperwork in the ER was stupid, but it was to help identify the patient and their insurance and all that important information; even in the brink of death, you need to do work. Pathetic, really. It truly does show something about society, whether it's for your own good or not, even if your writing is alienated due to all of your blood on the paper or your blurred vision making it hard to concentrate. 

        (Y/N) sped through the packets of papers and agreements, doing her best to not bleed onto the paper or the hospital chairs (why are the chairs made of cloth instead of leather anyways? At least leather can be washed easier).

        (Y/N) gave the papers to the receptionist, who accepted it and gave it to one of the doctors at the back room. (Y/N) sat down and waited for a doctor to call her name. Her stomach and leg hurt badly, it hurt to breathe and to walk, and her wounds just kept throbbing, spilling more blood and soaking up her temporary sock-bandages. She’s definitely going to throw away these socks…

        The hospital’s bright LED lights hurt her eyes, giving her a headache. Or maybe the headache was from blood loss? Who knows really, it just hurt to sit here and wait.

        Luckily, she didn’t have to wait too long before a nurse called her name. They helped her stand up from the chair, leading her to their office in quick fashion. They placed her down on the operating table, asking if she could remember her name, age, where she was, who the president was, etc.

        “I’m (Y/N) (L/N), 22 years old. I got stabbed in my stomach by a knife, along with my right calf and a laceration on my right arm.” She informed the nurse as they put on medical gloves.

        A trauma surgeon came in with a tray of alcohol wipes, a medical needle and thread, a medical stapler, and syringe of anesthesia. (Y/N) resisted the urge to groan, she didn’t like needles, but she understood it would make the surgery much easier for her and them.

        (Y/N) rolled up her sleeves hesitantly, feeling self-conscious about the old scars on her wrists despite the more important matters at hand. The surgeon ignored her scars as he gave her the shot. 

        The surgeon pulled up her shirt to show her stomach as the nurse cut a hole on (Y/N)’s pants for her leg, making her remember the make-shift bandages she had.

        “I had to use what I had to stop the bleeding, so I used my socks.” She spoke for her lie. 

        She would’ve said more, but she decided it was best not to in case she accidentally messed up her alibi. She opted to stay quiet, waiting for the anesthesia to take effect so the doctor could begin the quick surgery. 

        .

        .

        When you wake up from surgery or an accident, you’d expect to see bright light, instead she only saw a dim light peeking through. She opened her eyes, waking up and looking around her.

        There was a curtain next to her, the white curtain had a slit and moonlight poured out, barely lighting the room. Her left arm was hooked to a IV, the needle sticking into the crevice of her elbow. The needle was slowing flowing blood into her, causing her to shudder at the thought of a needle stuck inside her.

        Her eyes trailed down to her right arm, seeing her arm covered in bandages. She picked up her sheets, seeing her leg was covered in bandages too. She moved her hospital gown up, seeing her stomach was covered with a medical patch and medical tape to hold it in place.

        This is probably going to take some time to heal. (Y/N) thought, resisting the urge to groan. 

        How fun, she’s going to spend weekend off here in the hospital. Either that, or she’ll stay home bedridden. 

        There was a soft knock on her door, before it opened, showing one of the doctors from the emergency department of the hospital. She had never met any of the doctors or nurses here, they’re always busy and on their feet running around. 

        “Ms. (L/N)?” he questioned, smiling.

        “That’s me.” She nodded. “Hello, sir.” 

        “Hey! Have you just woken up?” he questioned, a clipboard and pen in his hand as he walked over to her bedside, standing over her.

        “Yes.” She confirmed. 

        “Okay.” He commented, then cleared his throat. “So, you’ve been asleep for 18 hours. Usually anesthesia wears off in a few hours and you would wake up from some pain, but you stayed asleep for quite some time.” He spoke, flipping a page threw his papers clamped on his clipboard. “However, you could’ve been exhausted given you hadn’t slept because you were working earlier. Your medical history could’ve also helped contribute to that—hypersomnia and all.”

        Yes, the condition she’s almost positive her mother gave her. Being locked in that small room as a toddler really did affect her sleep patterns and routine. There wasn’t much to do in that dark room other than cry, watch old cartoon re-runs a thousand times, and sleep—she chose the latter. 

        “Yeah, sorry.” She muttered, not sorry at all but still feeling the need to apologize.

        “No worries. So, we did report your case to local authorities since it was a stabbing; you should know, hospital procedure and all.” The doctor spoke as (Y/N) nodding, knowing very well the protocol. “Great. So, there’s actually some officers here to question you about the incident. Are you fine with that?” 

        She nodded, ignoring her nerves that went haywire at the thought of talking to the police. So soon after her crime too! 

        “Okay, so before they come in. Let me explain to you really quick what’s going on.” He spoke, clearing his throat. “So you’re going to stay overnight, well more so over day since it’s 3 A.M. but we’ll look after you. So we stapled up your small intestine, and we stapled the skin of your stomach so that it wouldn’t rip or come undone in a large area like stitches would, along with your right calf. Your right arm has stitches due to how tight the skin is along with how deep the wound was. After two week, you can come back and we’ll remove the staples off your stomach and the sutures. For the next two weeks, you need to eat soft foods and liquids such as soups, breads, puddings, all that."

        “That sounds fine.” She nodded. 

        “Sweet. So, before they come in, is there anything you want or need? Like, do you need to use the bathroom? Or are you hungry or thirsty?” he questioned.

        “No, I’m fine.” she politely denied. 

        She’d rather not drink or eat anything, she felt like throwing up at the moment. She really didn’t feel like getting up and walking to the bathroom with an injured foot at the moment.

        “Okay. I’ll let the officers in.” The doctor nodded, writing a few notes on his clipboard before heading towards the door.

        He opened the door and used his hand to call the officers over. He left the door open as the officer walked in, a female and a male, who walked to (Y/N)’s bedside holding a notepad.

        “Hello, Ms. (L/N), right?” the female smiled. “I’m Officer Jenny and this is my partner, Officer Dixon. We have a few questions for you.” 

        “Nice to meet you.” (Y/N) spoke, flashing the officers a polite smile.

        “So, you’ve been admitted into the hospital for a stabbing, correct?” Officer Jenny questioned.

        “That’s correct, ma’am.” (Y/N) nodded.

        “When and where did you get stabbed?” Officer Jenny questioned.

        “Well, I got stabbed in my stomach by a knife. When I fought them off, they slashed my right arm and they stabbed my right calf.” (Y/N) explained, mentally going over her words carefully as Officer Dixon wrote the information in his notepad.

        “And when did this take place?” Officer Jenny questioned. 

        “Well, it was last night when I got off my shift. I work here at this hospital actually in the pediatric branch.” She added. 

        She was about to go on about her grocery store alibi, but paused. The timeframe won’t match. She took forever to get to the hospital after the stabbing so that she could clean her apartment, dispose of Ashley’s body, and finally get to the hospital. She can’t use the grocery store alibi since not only would be make no sense for her to get stabbed someplace where the cameras are coincidentally shut down, but none of the store employees would mention seeing her when they get questioned by the police, and it wouldn’t help that she decided to drive to the hospital bleeding instead of telling the store to call 911 or herself calling 911. 

        Her alibi is unreliable now, so she needs to quickly act now and change it while acting normal and resist hesitating. The officers’ body-cams would catch their interaction and it would be evaluated by licensed psychiatrists, looking out for any holes in the story, for how her words flow, her vocal patterns, her body language. The alibi is now a death trap.

        “After my shift, I drove back to my apartment and went on a walk in a park. Perhaps 7 P.M, so it was dark because of it being November and all.” She explained. “The park was Pacific North Satellite park.” She added, a park not too far from her apartment complex. 

        “I didn’t bother changing out of my work scrubs because I was just going to shower when I got back to my apartment, and I had left my phone on the charger at home. I was walking down the path listening to nature when I heard footsteps in front of me. Someone came up to me with their hands in their hoodie pocket, a black hoodie.” She explained, lying her way through the story. “They walked past me and quickly slashed my right arm… and… they grabbed my arm and stabbed me in the stomach with their knife… and then when I tried to get away… they knocked me down and stabbed my right calf.” She spoke, pausing her words every now and then to appear distressed as she faked reliving the moment. "I ran back to my apartment, plugged up the most severe wounds with my socks, and drove to the hospital since it wasn't too far and I didn't have my phone to call the police or ambulance. It was late at night, so there wasn't anyone around to ask for help, and I didn't want to be trapped in my apartment in case they decided to follow me...

        “Do you know who they were? Or did you catch what their face looked like?” Officer Jenny questioned as Office Dixon’s blurred, hastily writing down everything he heard.

        “No.” (Y/N) shook her head. “They had a black hoodie with their hood up. They had grey jeans too. They were perhaps around 5’6 tall…” she lied. “I’m unsure of their gender, but I think they were male.” 

        The most common description of a killer, or stereotypical when comparing to Ted Bundy or Jeffery Dahmer. With so little information, it’d be pretty hard to try and identify someone, especially someone who doesn’t exist (but of course, only [Y/N] knows that).

        “Do you think there could’ve been a specific motive or something you provoked?” Officer Jenny questioned, her question almost making (Y/N) scoff.

        Provoke? Provoke? How the hell could I have provoke them? (Y/N) thought, almost forgetting her alibi was still a lie.

        Sometimes she can even lie to herself with how scarily believable her lies are.

        But even if this mysterious murderer she made up didn't have a motive, did Ashley have one? It made her wonder, did Ashley really kill her because she was hated her being Andrew’s nurse? Even then, how the hell did she find out who she was, or even why? Ashley had never seen (Y/N) and Andrew together, at least not without her knowledge. 

        “No, ma’am. I’m unsure why, and I don’t believe I provoked them.” (Y/N) answered.

        “Is there any other information you’d like to tell us?” Officer Jenny questioned.

        “No.” (Y/N) answered.

        Short and sweet, it’s best to leave it all like this.

        “Well, if you ever remember anything or have any questions, make sure to call the department.” Officer Jenny spoke. “If we find any information or such, we’ll give you a call.” 

        “If we find who done it, do you want to press charges?” Officer Dixon questioned, causing (Y/N) to pause and think.

        “No. The process is too time-consuming, besides, I doubt they tried to kill me without a reason.” (Y/N) spoke. 

        Everything happens for a reason, after all. It’s logical to believe so.

        (Y/N) had never believed in fate or destiny, she had always believed everything happens for a reason. She hated the belief of something out of her reach trying to control her or her life. She’d rather choose what she wants to do, not something like fate. (Y/N) believes what she sees, so she doesn’t believe anything that isn’t backed up with facts or evidence. 

        Ashley tried killing (Y/N) for a reason, she said it herself. She'll take the dead woman's word on it since it came from her mouth.

        “I wouldn’t have to do this if you would’ve just stayed away from Andrew.” Her words rang in (Y/N)'s head.

        The audacity of some people, does Ashley truly believe she can control who Andrew sees? It’s not like there was anything wrong with Andrew and (Y/N)’s relationship, they were simply nurse and patient, nothing more and nothing less. Who does Ashley believe she is trying to control Andrew? She doesn’t have his heart, his brain, his body, his thoughts, his mouth, his eyes. He could do whatever he pleases and Ashley shouldn’t be able to do anything about it.

        Well, she can’t now. (Y/N) thought, holding back a chuckle. 

        "Are you sure, miss?” Officer Dixon questioned, surprised.

        “I’m sure. Maybe they had a bad day or something.” (Y/N) shrugged.

        “But you don’t just stab anyone on a bad day, this could be serious.” Officer Jenny spoke, her voice a little harsh compared to her gentle treatment earlier.

        Officer Jenny seems to not like having a killer run around, or have about zero clues.

        “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” (Y/N) sighed. "I'm very tired and I wish to rest.

        “The town next to us, they had a killing in a park too. The victim was a man, he was shot, multiple bullets in his chest.” Officer Jenny spoke quickly, hoping the information could bring some details out of the injured woman. “You happened to be a park too, perhaps this was the same guy! We need as much information as we can. Please miss (L/N), we’re relying on you.”

        “I’m sorry, but I truly don’t know. I don’t have anymore information to give to you.” (Y/N) sighed.

        Officer Jenny’s face hardened as Officer Dixon closed his notepad.

        “Very well. We’ll contact you in case we find any details.” Officer Dixon spoke, nodding his head down in respect and farewell, before telling Officer Jenny with his eyes that it was time to go.

        “Get well soon, miss…” Officer Jenny sighed, walking out of the room with her partner.

        Well, I forgot that part… (Y/N) thought, letting out a breath of relief.

        The park killer from the next door town, right, how could she forget? The victim was a man was found dead on the sidewalk, a clean knife nearby him, no fingerprints. The man had a hood, sunglasses, and gloves; a strange attire to walk around in at night, especially the sunglasses part. He died with six bullet wounds in his chest, the news said. The murder was actually a few days ago, maybe even a week ago. Nevertheless, (Y/N) could bet it was Ashley and Andrew. Ashley had that empty gun on her, which was now under (Y/N)’s car seat. 

        (Y/N) turned her head to the window once the police left. She reached over and opened up the curtains, looking up at the stars, or what she could see. Light pollution in the city is a major pain, you can’t even enjoy nature now thanks to humans.

        (Y/N) looked at the lights outside of the window, it’s the only thing semi-interesting to look at in a hospital bed. She didn’t want to turn on the TV, she knew it was all just re-runs of family-friendly movies like High School Musical or the local news. Unfortunately, hospitals don’t really have any good channels to watch.

        It’s only for one day. (Y/N) thought.

        She just had to deal with this for one day, then she could get back home and sleep. Despite always being so tired, she liked to work. The time she’d take to heal would feel like torture to her. Her depression made her feel a sense of worthlessness doing nothing, so being bedridden is just going to throw her in a depressive state. Usually she’d just get up and work overtime when she feels like this, but she really can’t if she’s injured. 

        Even though she has a reason to be lazing around in bed all day, she's not very happy about it. It's at times like these she wished she had some sort of entertainment in life, or at least friends, people she considered real friends. She had acquaintances growing up, but they just never really did it for her.

        The people she hung around with was only for school, she never bothered hanging out with them outside of school that way she could focus on her studies. Besides, they weren't important people to her, she only talked with them because they had conversed with her first, and it gave her something to pass time with at school. She always did have that closed-off demeanor, it surprised her whole family when she decided she wanted to be a pediatric nurse, and later a pediatrician. 

        (Y/N) stared at the window in deep thought, thinking.

        Maybe she could call her dad. The last time she called him was a month ago, to which she had to leave a voicemail... she never did receive a call back. And after that, she called on her birthday four months... to which she's still waiting for a call back. 

        Well, maybe he's just busy. He has a job and a life outside of his daughter, surely he'll call back eventually. She figured. 

        If she had her phone on her, she'd call and leave another voicemail for him to let him know he's okay.

        Wait, what's the point in calling? She's fine, and she hadn't called him of her condition, so what's the point in calling and telling him that she's still alive? Even if he did answer, what will he say other than a "that's good. I'm glad you're okay. I have to get back to work now." 

        If there's no point calling her dad, then there's certainly no point in calling her mom, for obvious reasons.

        (Y/N) groaned, hitting her head back against the pillow, before letting out a pained whine. Her head pounded terribly, followed by a slight ringing in her ears and a second of her vision blurring. Her right arm shot up to help soothe her head, before she let out a hiss, the movement of her arm causing a sharp pain to shoot up it. 

        "This sucks..." she complained, a pout making way onto her lips. 

        Before she could wallow in her sorrows any further, the door opened, gaining her attention. She turned her head, seeing a familiar man in a wheelchair.

        "Andrew?" she questioned, surprised. 

        "Hey." He greeted, flashing a smile at her.

        (Y/N) internally cringed at the sight of him, not that he was bad-looking or anything, but she wasn't expecting to see him so soon after what she's done. 

        "What are you doing here in the emergency department?" (Y/N) questioned, not bothering if the question sound a bit rude or not; she'll just blame it on the headache if he asks.         

        "I heard from the nurses that you got injured." Andrew explained, rolling his wheelchair up to her bedside.

        "A nurse told you I was here?" (Y/N) questioned, confused.

        Well, that's against hospital policy, giving away patient information like that to just anyone. It made her curious who from the nightshift had the audacity to tell him.

        "Who told you?" (Y/N) questioned.

        "Eh, I don't know. That nurse I had before you." He shrugged his shoulders carelessly, not bothering to remember the name. "It was something something. Started with a P. Maybe it was Pen, or Penny? Or was it Nancy? It doesn't really matter."

        "Penelope?" (Y/N) smiled, almost giggling at his poor attempt to remember the nurse's name. 

        Right, makes sense. Penelope was Andrew's nurse before (Y/N), and Penelope seems to see (Y/N) as a friend, so she probably questioned Doctor Ryan where (Y/N) was. Doctor Ryan must've been informed as soon as he entered the office, considering he wasn't going to be able to teach (Y/N) for a few nights until she got better.

        However, she felt a little happy that he couldn't remember Penelope's name (especially after [Y/N]'s little jealous episode from earlier at the thought of Penelope and Andrew being together. Obviously because she just enjoyed having Andrew as a patient, nothing more).

        "Yeah, maybe that was her name?" he hummed, not bothering to think back if it was actually that nurse or not. 

        Yes, it was Penelope, he might not bother to remember her name, but he remembers her face from earlier when he and (Y/N) had gone to the staff room and Penelope was acting strange. He also remembered how tight and uncomfortable she had done his bandages on his broken ankles, much different compared to (Y/N)'s soft hands and nurturing personality. 

        "She shouldn't be giving away information like that." (Y/N) sighed, chuckling softly. "But thank you for coming."

        It was a little heartwarming to know at least someone cared about her. Even if her parents did, at least her co-worker and close acquaintances did, even reserved patients such as Andrew were worried about her!

        "So, what brought you over here? Did you have a question, or perhaps you need your bandages changed?" (Y/N) questioned, observing his body up and down to see if there was anything out of the ordinary or if he needed any assistance. 

        "No... I just... wanted to see for myself, I guess..." he muttered, looking away from her eyes as he resisted the urge to squirm under her gaze. "I heard you got hurt pretty bad, so I got curious..."

        "You sure you didn't just miss me?" she teased, trying to brightened up or at least lightened the mood into a more comfortable atmosphere. 

        "Don't get ahead of yourself." He chuckled, her words succeeding in her goal as they both smiled at each other.

        His smile softened, his eyes glazing over, seeming to be lost in thought. He seemed unsure of himself, before he just sighed. 

        "So... what happened?" he questioned. "If you don't mind me asking."

        Her own smile faltered, doing her best to remain neutral and not puke her guts out as visions of stabbing Ashley's lifeless body took over her mind, hearing each explicit and disturbing wet splash as her hands slowly started to coat with blood from how violently she was pushing her knife into Ashley's chest, down to the hilt. 

        "I got attacked..." she spoke vaguely, clearing her throat awkwardly as she kept her eyes on him to see if he would believe her. 

        "Do you know by who?" Andrew questioned.

        "No." She spoke quickly, internally cringing at how defensive her tone sounded.

        Andrew's gaze hardened, his intuition not believing her. Of course he wouldn't believe her, living with Ashley basically his whole life had practically made him become a human lie detector. Before he could speak about the matter, she spoke up. 

        "Can you check on Hailey for me please? She was a bit down earlier today, surely you can cheer her up for me? Just don't mention my current condition to her, please." (Y/N) requested, sounding more of a pathetic demand and excuse to get him to leave her alone. 

        Andrew looked hesitant to leave her, before he sighed, nodding his head. "Yeah, sure..." he grumbled. 

        "Thank you." She hummed, giving him a false smile.

        They had a moment to themselves, silently staring at each other, before Andrew turned his wheelchair around and rolled out of the room, closing the door behind him. (Y/N) let out a sigh of relief once she was alone, glad to have avoided the tough subject.

        Maybe she'll tell him one day, once she gets to know him better and can be certain he wouldn't kill her for it.

        She ignored the pain as she squirmed into a comfortable position to sleep in. She needed the rest, and sleep is the body's natural way of healing after her. Her eyes trailed to the curtains, watching the cars on the road zoom past the hospitals and watching as some lights started to shut off, night owls getting ready for bed too just like her. 

        She'll call her parents as soon as she gets out of the hospital, even if they've probably not heard the news or care about it, she still wants some sort of closure from her parents. Maybe they'll even take pity on her and stay on the phone for a bit, ask how she's doing, or what she's doing now. 

        Sounds like a plan. (Y/N) thought, closing her eyes as she ignored her body's pain, waiting for sleep to overtake her. 

I know there hasn't been much of any Andrew and reader moments, but chapter 5 will have plenty, these past chapters have just been plot and character-development and such!

My next series will be a Yandere! Hitoshi Shinso x Yandere! Fem! Reader, so keep watch for that!

To the Ashley fans, I'm sorry for what I've done.

Want more Andrew Graves content? Check out the Andrew Graves masterlist!

Inbox is OPEN for questions about the story and new plotlines/ideas, not for request!

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, current chapter, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, final chapter.

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[disillusioneddanny]

This was inspired by this post. This will also be turned into a multi chapter fic on my ao3. You can subscribe here

But enjoy <3

Tw: talks of vivisection and abuse

Harley Quinn stumbled through the streets of Amity Park, newborn baby clutched to her chest as she furiously checked over her shoulder to make sure no one was following her. She had done it, she had finally gotten away from Mr. J for good just six months before. If he came lookin’ for her, she would be able to handle him on her own, especially with the help of Ives. But Danny wouldn’t be able to do jack shit against his crazed sperm donor. So, Harley was doin’ what she thought would be best. She was going to ask her step-brother and see if he and his wife could take him.

If anyone would be able to protect her baby it would be Jack Fenton, her step-brother was a hulking giant of a man and while his aim may have been shit, his wife’s wasn’t. The two were scientists, ghost hunters if Harley remembered right and they would be just crazy enough to think Mr. J was a ghost if he showed his slimy face around Amity Park.

“Don’t worry Danny, they’ll keep you safe, I promise. You’re never gonna have to worry about a crazy father tryin’ to kill you or use you for his own gain, I won’t ever let that happen,” Harley said quietly before pressing a soft kiss on her son’s head and knocked on the door of Fenton Works.

His father was trying to kill him. Danny allowed his sister to drag him out of Fenton Works and to her car, head spinning, lungs burning for oxygen. Telling his parents about his ghost form had gone bad, it had gone so, so, so bad and now Jazz and Danny were running for their lives as Jack Fenton shot another ectoblast at the siblings.

“Jazz, where’re we going to go? What are we going to do? You destroyed the portal,” Danny gasped out once Jazz had shoved him into the backseat of her beat up, gray, ‘78 Volkswagen Beetle. He scrambled in just as Maddie shot in the spot he had just been occupying, his sister grunted as she took the shot. While she was liminal, she still had enough human in her that it was nothing more than feeling like she got an instant sunburn.

Jazz slammed the door shut, ignoring the shouts from the Fentons behind her as she got around to the driver’s seat and sped off, tires spinning against the pavement.

“We’re going to Aunt Harley’s,” Jazz said determinedly.

“My mother?” Danny squawked from the backseat. “Didn’t Da-Jack say she was crazy?”

“Jack’s crazy Danny! He had you strapped to a table-” Jazz stopped herself as a guttural growl escaped her lips. “Whatever. Aunt Harley will be the best option. If anyone can keep us away from the Fentons it’ll be her.”

Danny slumped down in the backseat and finally looked down at the giant cut on his chest and let out a groan. His mother. Jack and Maddie had never hesitated to tell Danny where he had come from. Jack in particular boasted about how his poor, abused sister trusted him of all people to raise her baby and keep him safe from harm.

Joke’s on him apparently considering he was the very person who had managed to hurt Danny the most. Danny wasn’t stupid, though, he had heard about Harley Quinn. The psychiatrist turned villain who was now in her own way a hero but remained the self titled Queen of Chaos. He knew that his mother was dangerous, each time she had come to visit with her pasty white, tattoo covered skin, chemically bleached hair, and slightly crazed look in her eyes, Danny knew. He knew that the reason Dan was a reality was because of his genes, because of where he came from.

He had done everything he could to make sure he wouldn’t turn out like his mother. And if his suspicions were correct, he would do everything to make sure he didn’t turn out anything like his sperm donor. There was a reason Danny hated clowns and it wasn’t just because of Freakshow.

“Do you think she’s going to be happy seeing us at her house, though? Or Aunt Ivy? She’ll probably be annoyed that we dropped in unannounced,” Danny said before reaching down and grabbing the metal box that held his first aid kit. He used his powers to thread a needle with fishing wire and bit his lip hard as he forced the needle through his skin and started to sew up where his parents had started the vivisection. It would most likely scar but Danny didn’t want to think about that right now. Danny didn’t want to think about anything right now except for the fact that they were going to his mother’s house of all places.

“Danny, your mom adores you. She didn’t drop you off at the Fenton’s to abandon you. She did it to protect you. Aunt Harley knew that she wasn’t capable of raising a baby and she did the most responsible thing she could think of. But she loves you, she’s loved you from the moment you were born,” Jazz told him, glancing in her rearview mirror to watch her baby brother sew himself up as she sped down the highway.

“And how do you know that?” Danny asked, a hiss escaped from between his clenched teeth as he got to the worst part of the cut and continued with his sewing.

“Because I was there the night she brought you home. And I see it in her eyes when she comes to visit us. She loves you Danny, she was just in a bad situation,” Jazz reasoned, knuckles white on the steering wheel as she sped onto the onramp to start their journey from Amity Park, Illinois to Gotham City, New Jersey.

“And she’s just going to be happy to have her sixteen year old son randomly appear in her front door? She couldn’t take care of me then, what makes you so sure she can help us now?” Danny spat out as he finally finished his stitching and tied off the thread. He reached into the kit once more and grabbed a few of the antiseptic wipes that had been packed in and cleaned the ectoplasm-blood mixture off of his chest as best as he could before taping gauze to his chest. It wasn’t the best patch job and Frostbite would probably be horrified if he saw it, but it was the best Danny could do with a tiny first aid kit in the back of his sister's rickety car as she went well over a hundred miles per hour in a seventy.

“I think so, yeah,” Jazz admitted after a few minutes of silence. Danny let out a huff of a laugh as he struggled to sit up. “There’s a shirt in this bag,” she said, tossing him the backpack that sat in the passenger seat, the go bag for if the worst had ever come to fruition. Which it definitely had.

Danny dug through the bag and found the tried and true NASA shirt folded carefully within the bag and let out a sigh through nose as he carefully maneuvered around to get the shirt on without angering the stitches on his chest too much. Even if his mother wasn’t happy to see them or able to take care of them, she’d be able to help. She was a better option than any other.

Vlad was completely out of the picture. Dani was ancients only knew where and she wouldn’t have been able to do much anyway. Sam and Tuck still didn’t even know what had happened and Danny hadn’t decided how he was going to deal with that. Aunt Alicia would most likely call mom-Maddie if she saw them on her doorstep.

Aunt Harley was their only option now that the portal was destroyed and Danny certainly did not have the strength he would need to open a portal. Plus, Gotham had plenty of ambient ectoplasm according to Tuck’s research.

When they had first made this plan, Tucker had looked into any place that came close to having the same amounts of ectoplasm as Amity Park and Gotham had been number one on the list. So at least Danny had that going for him.

“I’m going to try to get a little bit of rest, getting cut open drains a guy,” Danny said with a chuckle, pressing the backpack into the car seat and carefully laid back down. “When I wake up, we can switch and I can drive for a bit. You need rest too.”

Jazz simply hummed in response and said nothing more as her little brother settled into the backseat and allowed sleep to take over.

“I told you I could have helped drive here,” Danny muttered as Jazz pulled into a shady looking, nondescript building.

“Danny, you had to sew yourself back up in my backseat. You needed the rest far more than I did, besides, no use in complaining, we’re here now,” Jazz said, glancing back at the tired, pouty look on her brother’s face and smiled. “Aren’t you excited to see your mom and Aunt Pam?”

“Is she technically my stepmom?” Danny asked once Jazz put the car in park and shut off the engine. She got out and went around to Danny’s door and helped her baby brother out of the car.

“Technically?” Jazz said, crinkling her nose as she thought it out. Yeah, that would make the most sense anyway. “Are you okay?” She asked as Danny winced, pressing a hand to his chest as he climbed out of the small car and leaned heavily against Jazz’s side.

“Yeah, just hurting,” he murmured and shook his head as if that would get rid of the pain. “Let’s just go.”

Jazz gave her brother a concerned look but locked her car nonetheless and started to help the boy up the stairs before she rung the doorbell.

The two tensed as they listened to footsteps stomp their way.

“Look, I’m Jewish, I ain’t interested in that Jehovah’s Witness shit,” they heard Harley shout before the door swung open.

Harley’s jaw fell open as she froze in place at the scene in front of her. The two teenagers were quite the sight. Harley had never seen the usually put together Jasmine look so frazzled as long as she had known her niece. Her son was in even worse states, if the eyebags on his face, the strange blood and green stains on his shirt, and panting told her anything.

He looked up at her tiredly, the dark circles under his eyes even darker than she had initially noticed. “Hey mom,” he said with a huff, hanging from Jasmine’s shoulders.

“Aw fuck, come in, come in,” Harley said wearily, ushering the two into the building. “Ives! I need your help!”

Harley carefully moved her niece out of the way before she quickly lifted her son into her arms and started down the hallway. “It’s okay Danny, Mama’s gotcha,” she murmured, cradling the sixteen year old boy to her chest as she carried him bridal style. Jazz followed her aunt as they made it to the living room just as Ivy came out of the bedroom looking confused.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, though, as she spotted the three before her. “Shit, I’ll get the salves,” she stated before her eyes landed on Jazz. “Come help me?”

Jazz looked between her aunt and her brother before looking back at Ivy and gulped, nodding her head once before following the eco-terrorist back into the bedroom.

“Oh sweetie,” Harley murmured, carefully setting Danny on the beat up couch. “Baby what happened to you?”

“Jack and Maddie happened,” he said with a hiss as his mother raised his shirt and took in the cuts that had been sloppily stitched up.

Harley’s eyes flicked between the incision that seeped red-green liquid and Danny’s pained face. “Jacky boy did this to you?”

Danny nodded, letting out a whimper. “It’s a long story,” he said as his mom traced a finger over the cuts, the pieces connecting in her brain.

Harley Quinn was a lot of things but she was not stupid. She may not have gotten the chance to visit her son as often as she wanted but the last time she had seen him she had noticed something was different about him. She had been around Ivy long enough to know when someone had gained powers that they barely had control over. She had noticed the way her son’s eyes would flash a startling green whenever his emotions got out of hand. Noticed the way he was colder than before and how his shoulders looked as though they carried the entire world on them.

She didn’t know what had happened to her son or what it had done to him, but she knew he was more than human now. She had seen that plenty of times before. And it looks like the Fentons had discovered this and decided that Danny was one of their new experiments.

“You’re dead, aren’t you?” She asked bluntly, recognizing the toxic ectoplasm that seemed from between her son’s stitches. “Not all the way but somethin’ happened and they didn’t like it.”

“Yeah. I uh, I was fourteen, didn’t kill me all the way, just enough for me to be considered a ghost and you know how mom-Maddie and Jack are about ghosts,” Danny said just as Ivy and Jazz came back with towels, wet rags, and salves to cover the incisions.

Harley raised her eyes from Danny’s wounds and looked her son in the eyes. “I’m gonna kill ‘em,” she snarled, snatching a wet rag from Ivy and started to better clean the wound. “I’m gonna murder them and then when they turn into ghosts I’ll give ‘em a taste of their own medicine,” she said, hands gentle as she cleaned around the wound.

“You’re going to need to redo those stitches,” Ivy said softly, sitting beside Danny’s head and taking it in her lap as she ran her fingers through the black locks, trying to distract her wife’s son from the stinging pain he was likely feeling.

“There’s no point, the wound will be closed by tomorrow,” Jazz said quietly and handed a warm, dry towel to Harley after she had finished cleaning the incisions and carefully patted the skin dry. She then took the salve and carefully coated it over her son’s chest.

“Don’t kill them,” Danny said quietly, taking his mother’s hand in his and squeezed the pale hand in his. “Just, mom, just protect me. Please?” He asked, voice cracking slightly.

Harley let out a sigh and squeezed her son’s hand tight. “Baby, I’ll always protect you,” she promised, still feeling her chest burn in anger at the fact that her step-brother, the one person on this earth she had trusted to take care of her son had caused him this much pain. Jack and Maddie Fenton would rue the day they hurt Harley Quinn’s baby.

[pretzel-box]

Hello everyone.

This will be a rather long post about some things I wanna adress, including the fact that I plan to stop writing for Pressure, my OCS and other peoples Ocs in the near future.

Down under the cut is a list with my personal view, issues and some other things that lead to this decision. Maybe I miss a lot or don't go too deep into detail but the main points are covered.

But before I would like to add that this is MY opinion and MY choice. I let you think of it what you want but I also request that you respect my actions.

The first point is probably already clear from the start. Maybe some noticed, maybe not but I fell out of love with the fandom and the game itself. It became boring to play, the characters lost their charm and I can't come up with any creative scenarios anymore and the ones that already exists have lost their meaning. This may sound like the typical burnout thing and maybe it is but I'm more than certain that I wanna step away from the game and the fandom to focus on other things that bring me more joy. Maybe I start a multifandom writing blog or I just learn another hobby.

The second thing that is close connected to the first point is the fandom of the game, including the community on tumblr. A huge part are super sweet people with a very creative side. I would go as far and say that I brought some of those together with my projects and writing and it really makes me happy to see everyone interact so friendly on my blog.

But something that I haven't adressed is the fact that there are also plenty of hardcore fans, haters and weird people in my askbox or general in the fandom. It is to be expected when someone gains a massive amount of followers. But I do not accept the fact that people judge me based on what I write, who I write for, when I write and if I write at all. I delete those asks. Some telling me that my community project is awful, unserious and pulls other ocs into dirt. Other people are claiming that I don't write Sebastians Character right and oh wow seriously? I am not Sebastians creator, I do not have that ultimate deep lore and mindset to write a person 1:1. I get hate for my own stories and of course the fans could now come to my protetion and say „But Chea don't listen to the haters, you are amazing“ but it doesn't fix the thing in a slightest.

Also regards the people that praise me, some of them ( I won't name anyone) are counting to those weird people that force me. There were 2 or 3 people that acted all sweet in public only to try and take control of some story plots etc.

Also, I started writing when Pressure was first raising to be popular. There weren't many pressure writers out there. I am usually not someone that posts their work online, I don't comment on stuff and I rarely like something. But I really wanted to see more pressure fanfictions. Now we reached the point where there are more than plenty amazing writers and I can quit. There is no need for me to continue something that only makes me hate myself more because everytime I open my notes to write a story for pressure it feels like a mental torture. I leave the writing to the other blogs.

The status for now:

AASB gets discontinued.

Reverse AU gets discontinued.

Streamer AU will recieve 6 more chapters to end the story on a good term.

House of Entities will get continued for a small period of time, probably till I am done with the Streamer AU. There is no plan for the chapter count yet.

All requests in the inbox will get deleted and the inbox itself will be closed after Streamer AU finished.

Any other unnamed project will get discontinued as well.

All stories, one shots, series, drabbles and other works of mine are free to use. Other authors can pick them up, re-write them or just make an own story out of those. I drop all rights for the ideas and I won't demand any credits either. Maybe someone else would like to continue House of Entities as well.

My final word, which may sound repeating: I do not change my opinion, there won't be any motivation talks or sugar coated words that will change my stand in those things. I know some of you will try and comfort me but this is really not needed. I wish for you all to accept the outcome of this situation and move on more or less.

I apologize dearly because this is very sudden and I hope you all will understand.

-Chea