#tw andrew's past

[sunriseabram]

You wanna know who I'm thinking about today? Cass. Cass Spear.

Cass who washed the bloodied bedsheets and never asked questions.

Cass who saw the scars and bandages peaking out from beneath Andrew's shirt and never got him help.

Cass who knew what was happening and decided not to say a word.

Cass who fostered more kids after Andrew, knowing what Drake had done.

Cass who wouldn't even look at Andrew in court. Because looking at him required accepting what her son had done, what she had allowed to occur to multiple children under her roof.

Because no amount of evidence would change the fact that Cass loved her rapist son more than anyone else, even the little teenage boy willing to do anything for a family.

[aftgficrec]

Hi! Thanks so much for doing this i have wanting to catch you open for so long!! How are you? I hope you have a good day!

I was wondering if there were any fics focused on neil and mary/neil and Nathan? Like his emotions, thoughts, etc, and the things he went through bcs of them/how they still affect him even now? Thank you so much in advance!

Our poor traumatized Neil! Yes, there is much to explore on this topic. -A

most previous asks lead to more recs:

angsty bad days for Neil here

Neil with ptsd here

more Neil with DID here

Neil cries, comforted by Andrew/foxes here

Neil says ‘it’s fine I’ve had worse’ here

Neil’s scars 2 here

scars and healing here

Neil goes to therapy here 

Neil attempts suicide here

‘You're Wonderful’ here

‘Hold My Hand?,’ ‘I'll Still Solve You,’ and ‘Fear (but not of you)’ here

‘The Books of Baltimore’ series: ‘Ghost of You’ here, ‘Run to You’ here

‘the upswing’ (completed), ‘please (don't bite),’ ‘Will you love me for who I am…’ ‘To be safe,’ ‘Safe with him,’ and ‘i called your name ‘til the fever broke’ here 

‘my friends and I…,’ ‘Pasts Intertwined,’ ‘My Stomach is a Wasteland,’ ‘side effects may vary’ ‘Bad Apple,’ and ‘You Are So Much More Than Your Father's Son’ here 

‘Medicated rabbits don't run as fast’ here

‘Broken Symmetries’ and ‘No More Fucks To Give’ (updated) here

‘24 Floors’ here

‘A Quiet Little Seedling,’ ‘If I Knew You,’ and ‘Step By Step’ here

‘slow down (you crazy child),’ ‘Make a Home’ (updated), and ‘make me a promise’ here

‘Dreamed in red’ here

‘...Just Us, and Y(our) Friend Kevin’ here 

‘Nothing Mattered Until You’ here (jeanneil)

amputation or permanent leg damage:

Neil's legs (the fucked up edition) here and here

Neil dies/amputations in Baltimore here

‘La jetée n'est plus loin’ here

‘I’m More Than This Body of Mine’ here (completed)

‘Next to You’ here

‘Rare pair hell series’ part 9 here

‘Live for you / Stay for me’ here 

‘“I pick up daddies at the playground.”’ here

‘lie to me (for i do not wish to live the truth)’ here

‘White Hands’ and ‘If Neil, Then Fox’ here

‘(don’t fear) the reaper’ here

‘Under the kitchen lights…’ here

‘Point Nemo’ here

‘Lifelines’ here

‘does the dog die at the end’ here

you may also like:

Neil runs after joining the foxes 2 here

andreil on the run from the mafia here

soulmates who feel each other's pain here

Mary/Nathan's people come back here

Mary tries to take Neil from the foxes here

Neil kills Nathan here

tell me where i came from, what i will always be by geeseproblems [Rated G, 317 Words, Complete, 2021]

She lives in his body like no other.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: canonical character death

Down with Something by pawnofkings [Rated T, 3051 Words, Complete, 2021]

Neil is sick, and he does his best to keep anyone from finding that out. He collapses in the middle of practice.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

you asked for this by Anonymous [Rated M, 790 Words, Complete, 2022, Locked]

Neil Josten and guilt

tw: implied major character death, tw: child abuse, tw: emotional abuse, tw: blood, tw: negative self talk

A reflection or a lie by ShadowDolphin [Rated G, 839 Words, Complete, 2022]

Sixteen year old Neil Josten has an identity crisis cuz depersonalization is a wonderful thing that exists and he doesn't feel real

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

i know you'll take me with you by lil_macaroon [Rated T, 6129 Words, Complete, AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2023]

Neil has feelings that make him want to run. The only thing that keeps him at Palmetto State, hell, what keeps him in South Carolina, is the promise he made when Andrew asked him to stay three years ago. Unable to run, it all keeps building within him until one day, Andrew puts him in the car, and they go.

keep your head above the water (I can’t) by drewdrop44 [Rated T, 1156 Words, Complete, 2022]

The feeling of water moving over his head, swallowing him whole. Neil woke with a scream trapped in his mouth.

tw: drowning, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: violence, tw: nightmares 

It's a punch and a kiss, I'm trying to remember by beckdarkthrone [Not Rated, 18604 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2024]

He has a hold on himself as Neil, as Abram, as Nathaniel.. Until he doesn't.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: dissociative disorder, tw: blood, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: internalized homphobia

NB: this author has a podcast with aftg-centric episodes; check out ‘So You Think You Like’ on spotify.

We're all Monsters Here by serene_chaos [Not Rated, 892 Words, Complete, 2022]

"I am part of the slaughter house. I feel that makes me more of a monster than you.” “Don’t look at me to absolve you.” Andrew flicks his cigarette towards Neil. Sparks landing inches from Neil’s hand. OR Neil doesn't think Andrew is a monster, but thinks he might be.

tw: childhood trauma, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture

Who Am I to You? by serene_chaos [Rated M, 91907 Words, Incomplete, Updated April 2024]

Neil Josten was born with violence in his blood and raised as a weapon to hide in plain sight. And then he finds himself surrounded by foxes and his usual survival tactics ruined by a five foot goalie. The whole mobster mafia problem isn’t helping either. -- Cue a Neil who cares a little less, a past raven, and potentially a little something more to live for.

tw: attempted rape, tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: murder, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: attempted nonconsensual drug use, tw: panic attacks, tw: flashbacks, tw: homophobia, tw: alcohol abuse/alcoholism, tw: animal abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm 

you will always be my favorite form of loving by something_boring [Rated T, 15831 Words, Complete, 2024]

5 times the Foxes tried to take care of Neil and 1 time they didn't have to.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: panic attacks, tw: nightmares, tw: alcohol abuse, tw: blood, tw: vomit, tw: violence, tw: bullying

pain our brain has made by pipedreamaddy [Rated M, 16052 Words, Incomplete, Updated July 2024]

Neil and his discovery that he has trauma-induced migraines because we all know how he neglects his health. Between everything else going on with him, a migraine seemed very minor to him. But now that he is in a healthy, safe, and loving environment where he is thriving, he can take care of himself—theoretically speaking, at least. Or the fic where Neil finally gets the healing that he needs.

tw: needles, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: childhood trauma, tw: implied/referenced torture,  tw: flashbacks, tw: ptsd, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced murder

Keep Your Head Down and Don't Look Back by Capheira [Rated G, 775 Words, Complete, 2024]

Neil has spent most of his life running from his past but perhaps this time he was a little too efficient.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: panic attacks

Scars Like Stars by Kory_Rory [Rated T, 3429 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2024]

Neil deals with his trauma by biting himself while being completely oblivious to the harm he's putting himself through. But it's okay cause the foxes are there to help him :)

tw: self harm, tw: body dysmorphia, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: negative self talk, tw: flashbacks 

I’m not used to all this water, love (it’s true) by niicowo [Rated T, 1415 Words, Complete, 2024]

Neil never thought anyone could ever love him. His parents never made him feel loved. But then again, what did he know about love? Nothing, he guessed. But one thing he did know was that Andrew loved him. And he just may love him too.

tw: past suicidal ideation, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Razor’s Edge by godless_writer [Rated T, 2178 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil Josten, a caring, shit-talking, striker for the Palmetto State Foxes. Nathaniel Wesninski, a runner, and the son of The Butcher of Baltimore. When Neil thinks that Andrew is in danger after he walks into Kevin and Andrew fighting, his world turns red and those lines become blurred.

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: dissociation

Don't let me be by Cutie_Wan [Not Rated, 1983 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil suffers a major dissociation episode in front of the Foxes.

tw: dissociation, tw: self harm, tw: violence

grin and bear it by wlwmlmsolidarity [Rated G, 1221 Words, Complete, 2024]

neil has chronic pain due to lola and tries to just ignore it and push through on a bad pain day, andrew forcefully makes him relax and accept help

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: chronic pain

NB: includes fanart by @clementinecloudz

scream and yell but i feel speechless by DepressedTerrestrial [Not Rated, 6770 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil had some unnecessary surgery done when he was younger. No one (including Neil) knows how to handle this except for Andrew (kind of).

tw: past medical abuse, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture

Isn't he the monster by DarkD [Not Rated, 16033 Words, Complete, 2021]

On a day when Neil "wakes up" in a particularly bad mood, hearing anyone being cruel to Andrew becomes unbearable to the point that he is on the verge of an explosion.

tw: violence, tw: blood, tw: self harm, tw: dissociation, tw: panic attacks, tw: child abuse

Art

Day 19: bullet and Day 4: stitches art by @thefluffiestbird

Nathan was known for his extravagant parties and incredible entertainment art by @mac-monsters; twitter

Neil & Mary on the run edit by @romanovass

These ouches feel a little rough for a child on the run. comic by @softerstorms

“Don’t you dare be more afraid of me than you are of Andrew” art by @rainbowd00dles 

There’s nowhere to run art by @/tryashaa on instagram

“I’m fine” - *literally dying* art by @/koldangrey_art on instagram

[mx-misty-eyed]

tw sh

[starscelly]

“hockey is when you’re broken and you’ve got nothing left, but you still get out there and keep playing, no matter what. that is what hockey is.”

junior league | season 1 episode 1

[myfavoritesstuff]

Hey, can we have a Yan!Andrew Graves with Reader?

“Your Andy”

Pairing: Yan!Andrew Graves x Reader

Prompt: They weren’t supposed to find you. He wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you. So how could this all happen?

Note: You met the sibling when you were younger and now you lived in the same apartment building as them. I decided to change some of the setting up a bit too. I honestly didn’t know which direction I wanted this story to go in, so I apologize if this is bad. NOT PROOFREAD

TW: There is death and kidnapping in this!

“She’s yours, you know. Your precious secret.” His sister’s words echoed through his mind like a tsunami. His eyebrows furrowed while his heart skipped a beat. The idea of having you to himself made him happy. His sister seemed to notice, her eyes gleaming.

“But you know, she’ll never love you unless you take drastic measures. Love is a battlefield, Andrew. And you’re a soldier.” Ashley continued, “You’ve become friends with her, but now will you become more? You’ve won the battle, but can you win the war?”

Her words struck, a violent war now waging within him. He obviously didn’t want to lose you, but he also didn’t want to just stay friends. He wanted more.

Honestly it surprised him when his sister approved of his feelings for you. In the past, Ashley always wanted things to just be between the two of them. Yet, something about you was different from the others. You were accepting towards his sister and definitely more kind about the strange relationship they had as brother and sister. Maybe that’s why she let you live.

Either way, she would have to. For you were his everything. Even the thought of you has his insides burning.

Deep inside, his sister’s voice echoed: “She’s yours.”

A part of him definitely knew something was wrong. But the other side of him overlooked this and simply ignored this feeling. He wouldn't let you slip away from him.

One rainy night, you were in the kitchen of your apartment, the same apartment as Andrew and Ashley. Suddenly, you heard a loud bang next to you. It was coming from your door. You turned just as the door came flying open. Standing there was Andrew with Ashley behind him. He stretched his arm out, reaching for you.

“Come on, let’s get out of this hellhole together. We are leaving this place, and I would love it if you came with us.” You seemed to stare at him for what seemed to be too long for Ashley to intervene.

“Come on! We don’t have all night. We need to leave this place right now before we get caught!” Ashley, seeming to make the decision for you, moved her brother aside and grabbed your hand, pulling you up and dragging you out of your room. Andrew turned around and quickly followed behind.

—-

Once making out of the apartment Ashley volunteered to go out first, seeming to give her brother a look. It was then when Andrew pulled you aside. He had his head down, and when you were about to ask what’s wrong, he lifted it. His eyes now seemed to have a darker gleam to them. As you were about to speak, he put his finger to your lips, silencing you.

“Y/n, don’t you worry, I’m alright. Leyley is going to find us a place where we can all live and be happy together.”

Just as he finished, Ashley came back. “Guys, I know the perfect place where we can go.”

Turning, Andrew met his sister’s eyes. “And that is?”

“Our parent’s house! They are old and they don’t need to be living in such a nice place. I think we could live there instead.” Nodding along to his sister, Andrew gently grabs you by the hand and pulls you along.

—

Once they arrive at what they claimed to be their parents house, you all head in, Andrew still holding onto your hand. They are met with their mother who seemed to be very surprised to see them. The mother seemed to notice your hand intertwined with her son’s, and gave you a disapproving look. Nevertheless, she introduces herself as Mrs. Graves and that her husband, Mr. Graves should be up shortly. However her eyes never seem to stray from your intertwined hands.

A frown appears on her face as she asks her son if she can speak with him alone downstairs explaining how Mr. Graves is already down there., in the basement. While not wanting to leave your side, he agrees and tells you to stay here. Ashley, not seeming to like this, decides to follow them.

After waiting for a bit, you get bored and decide to find them. Heading down the stairs you are immediately met with the smell of blood. You cover your mouth and nose with your hand, as you keep venturing further into the basement.

“Andy! What’s taking you so long? Just hurry up and clean up this mess before Y/n comes down here herself. We are taking forever!”

Andrew just groans and retorts back, “Well I’m trying my best. You know it could go faster if you just helped me–” His words stop as he seems to make eye contact with you. “Y/n!” You shouldn’t be down here. Go back upstairs and–”

“Andy just let it go. She already saw and heard everything.” Ashely comments. Rolling his eyes at her, his face softens as he makes his way over to you.

“Look, I’m sorry that you had to see this. But this is what needed to be done,” A crazed, dark look now plastered on his face. “You see, my mom wasn’t too thrilled about seeing us together and told me that I shouldn’t be with someone like you. She even had the guts to say that if I didn’t break it off with you, then she would herself. And I couldn’t let that happen.”

“But Andy…” your voice barely above a whisper, “we were never together in the first place.”

Andrew became silent. You looked over at his sister and she had a disapproving look on her face. Just as you turned to look back at Andrew, you felt something hit against your head.

—

Groaning, you woke up, touching the side of your head. When your vision clears you notice that you were on a bed, not anyone you ever seen before. Looking around you, got up and noticed a picture on a desk that was directly in front of you. It was a picture of a younger Andrew and Ashley along with their parents. They seemed happy. Turning your head you saw a note and what seemed to be a remote with one button on it.

It read: “Y/n, I’m sorry for what happened yesterday. I feel bad, I truly do. But don’t worry, I won’t hurt you ever again. I just couldn't stand you saying something like that. Not when I’ve devoted myself to you, memorizing everything I could about you. You belong to me, and I’ll do anything to keep you close. If anyone dares to come between us, they’ll regret it.

The bedroom door is locked from the outside, there are no windows, and you are on the second floor of this house. If you're willing to give me a chance just press the button on the remote and I’ll let you out.

Love is a beautiful madness, and I am its most devoted disciple. So my dear Y/n, choose to stay with me and I promise to make you happy.” - Your Andy.

[lookingformoondrop]

Hiiii! Thanks for writing for tcoal! If you have time can I get a yandere Andrew x reader? Thanks :)

Sure thing~ Once again, it seems highly unlikely that Ashley would let this obsession slide, so for the sake of the story, she's been bliped. Happy (late) Halloween! <3

Yandere! Andrew GravesxReader

TW: Yandere themes, possession, obsession, murder, implied kidnapping, intimidation, stalking, Andrew has a foul mouth (Y/N too), not proofread

♡1,438 WORDS♡

Andrew Graves has a mask.

It's a very well crafted mask that's used to blend in with his peers, his friends, his girlfriends, his parents, and even himself.

It covers the dark parts of Andrew that even himself is too terrified to look at.

For if you look into the abyss, it looks back at you.

But when he met you, swinging back and forth at the playground swing, he could've sworn he heard something crack.

You were beautiful.

As he watched you, with the breeze blowing at your cute overalls and baggy shirt, god, so pretty.

Your smile could open the gates of the heavens. Your laugh could make rainbows last, your tears would be prettier than diamonds, and you in his cage would bring him closer to your hell.

He couldn't help but imagine you as some sort of art. Something valuable that wasn't ever to be touched by another person. Only seen by him, just him.

His mask cracked the more he looked at you.

That day started a life-long obsession.

He would venture to that park a few more times after that, until eventually introducing himself to you. Naive you, who believed him to be a kind and stoic person.

You weren't wrong, but it was your fault for thinking that's all it was.

Even if Andrew never admitted it to himself, the thought of you being his and ONLY his made his heart flutter.

How when you breathed, when you walked, when you spoke, when you laughed, it would all belong to him.

Those thoughts kept him awake at night, even if a light blush would always dust his cheeks.

As time went on, he learned that his dakmfk thoughts that he pushed to the back of his mind would only resurface when a man talked to you. Even a father-figure was enough to put him in a foul mood.

Andrew didn't say anything, but hearing his name come out of your mouth made his blood boil.

"Andy? Are you okay? You've been glaring at the ground even since we walked past Mr. Mancho."

"Why do you even like him? He's so...weird," Mr. Mancho was an innocent looking math teacher, one that always smiled at the students. And yet, Andrew hated the fact he smiled at Y/N...he didn't like that very much.

"Weird? He's been pretty nice to me...," You scratched your chin in deep thought, "do you not like Mr. Mancho?"

Andrew looked up at your doe eyes and heard something crack again,

"...he keeps looking at my things."

Andrew justified his growing hatred.

Even as you shrugged away his weird moods whenever you talked to cousins, friends, and teachers, Andrew never lacked as your friend.

Through every obstacle, he'd be there to help you jump over them. Although he'd complain about jumping in the first place, he'd never leave you.

He'd care about your issues, he'd care for your wounds, and he'd listen to your problems.

Especially when you were bullied.

The keyword here is 'were'.

While in school, a boy had groped you. When confronting him about what happened, his friend group laughed at you, claiming that you were just making shit up for attention.

This had made you cry when you got home.

Something that Andrew instantly knew about...somehow.

"Jesus Y/N, what happened?"

"S- Some boy touched me, and- h-he then said I was just making it up for attention! My friends all believed him a-and I," you broke down in sobs as your day was retold to your best friend.

As you continued to share your day with Andrew, he remained completely silent.

Several times throughout the call, you'd check if he was even still on. Still, when you called out for him, he'd answer with praise for trying to stand up for yourself, no matter what they had said to you.

You didn't know it then, but Andrew was squeezing his pack of cigarettes so hard that by the time he had gotten off the phone with you, they were all broken.

The next week, when you came to school, authorities were there questioning all the students. When they came to you, it was explained that the boy who groped you was killed and stuffed into his parent's basement freezer. Along with his friends, who all mysterious died in the forest, with some sort of satanic pentagon painted beneath their bodies.

You told the police you knew nothing, and all your friends who had doubted you came to you in an instant with apologies.

When you had told Andrew everything that happened he had only said,

"How strange."

As the years went on and you grew older, your friendship with Andrew always stayed strong.

Andrew would never say it, but when he kissed your cheek or patted your head, he was screaming,'I love you.'

But his dark thoughts, the ones he kept far back in his mind, would only double.

"Andy! Guess what happened today?"

"Hah?" Andrew turned his head from his spot on the couch.

"This cute boy at my job said he would love to take me out to dinner sometime!" You smiled brightly at the sly possibility that your bad streak with love would finally be over.

Every guy that ever walked into your life promptly bolted for the door the moment you opened it.

Andrew always told you that those guys just didn't appreciate you enough and that someone who bolted just like that was a quitter. Ashley?

But even then, you never gave up. Despite the long list of guys who ghosted you randomly.

"Oh...you said no, right? "

"What?" You walked over to Andrew from the door of the apartment. "Why would I say no...?"

Andrew looked at you with a dark shadow over his face, "Y/N, there are millions of creeps and perverts that are going to ask you out. They're only leering at you for your body."

You frowned at this notion,

"When you go to your next shift, tell him you don't want to anymore." Andrew thought for a moment and then shook his head.

"What's wrong?"

Andrew looked at your confused eyes.

"Just realized I have to get up early tomorrow to take out the trash."

When you went back to work the next day, he had quit just as suddenly.

Sad and upset over the millionth guy that ghosted and dumped you, you'd sulk to Andrew. Who would always make you warm cup of tea.

"Dumbass, you just keep picking quitters. It's not because of you."

"But Andy, I haven't had a boyfriend in years! At this point I'll die alone, probably with you right there to bury me with my hundreds of cats."

Andrew laughed at that and reached his arm around your shoulder.

"Just wait a little longer Y/N, I'm sure there's some jackass out there waiting for you."

"Yeah, right." You smiled at Andrew, "You're the only jackass I know, though. "

You leaned your head on Andrew's shoulder and began to fall to sleep rather quickly.

"The only...jackass...in my life... Andy, I'm sleepy."

Andrew took a sip of his tea and placed the cup far away from your drink.

"Rest Y/N. When you wake up, you'll have me right there besides you."

"Andy?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you, you're my best friend."

Andrew patted your hair as you drifted off to a drug-induced slumber.

"Yes, I'm your best friend," Andrew stared off to the distance as he thought about it.

"Soon, your only friend," He nodded at that statement, "Yes, the only friend you'll ever need."

His mask, although long forgotten, had finally cracked open.

You were his. Like a forbidden piece of art, it belonged to him. He was your painter, and as the painter, he declared you to be covered up. Only his retinas were allowed to peer at you.

It's your fault he went through all this effort to keep you safe. He's obligated as the painter to keep his art safe from dirty influences.

He's mildly disappointed in you whenever you speak to another man, but it's okay. It's his job after all to stalk the said man and hack his tongue off for even going to speak to you.

No matter how many guys he has to threaten, no matter how many people he's had to hack at, no matter how many people he's had to kidnap, it wasn't his fault.

It's yours.

All the blame is on his sweet, naive, poor, Y/N.

Still as innocent the day he found you at the playground.

"Still mine..." He mumbled as he stared at your sleeping face.

"Only mine."

Thanks for the ask!<3

[dinogoofymutated]

Wolverine/Fem!Reader - Masterlist link

You've met Logan Howlett in every life you've lived since the 1900s. And in every lifetime, fate rips you from him just as cruelly as it forces the two of you to meet. How many lives will it take for the two of you to finally have your happily ever after?

General TWs: Reincarnation, death, Major character death (multiple times), Angst with a happy ending. Controlling familiail behavior, descriptions of wounds, descriptions of war, descriptions of violence/death, childhood trauma. Possible historical inaccuracies.

Here's the first chapter!! I waassss gonna wait until I finished part two and post both at once but TBH I was desperate to get this out! I hope yall enjoy this, and I would like to remind everyone that I am not a nurse or any kind of medical personnel, and I kinda struggled to find out about the procedures of ww1 nurses, so take most of the nurse stuff with a grain of salt! like watching a dumbed down version of grey's anatomy lol. I'd also like to say that I decided to make Logan's healing factor slower during ww1 and ww2, as he hadn't gone through the Weapon X program yet. Chapter TWs: Blood, injury, childhood injuries in the prologue scene, war n shit, ww1 canada is a tw on it's own.

     October 22, 1900.

    “Andy!!”  Your brother rolls his eyes at the sound of your high-pitched voice calling his name, turning around with a frown. He always had been faster than you, and today was no different. He had gone running into the woods when your mother had called the two of you in for lunch, and ever the devoted little sister, you had chased after him before she could notice what the two of you were doing. You’re panting when you finally catch up to him, your skirts scrunched up in your fists as you try your best to keep them from catching on bushes and vines.

    “Where are you going? Mama’s calling us for lunch!” Neither of you was supposed to be on this side of the woods, past the fence that marked your family’s property. It made you nervous to be so far past the boundary. Your older brother scoffs at you, turning away once again as he continues to march further. 

    “Father told me that he had set bear traps out to keep the animals away from the house. I’m going to see if he’s caught anything.” Andrew says stubbornly. You rush ahead to try and keep up with him, staying close and looking around anxiously. You never had been a rule breaker, and this was just a little more adventurous than you were comfortable with.

    “Bears? You don’t think we’ll find any, do you? I don't want to see anything be hurt.” You whine, tears forming in your eyes. Your brother laughs at you, the same way did the time you brought some a dying bird, or the time you had begged father to spare the rabbit that had been digging in the garden. He never understood why you were so soft-hearted.

    “You’re going to need to be more brave if you’re going to be an adult one day. Cowards get killed.” Andrews teases, cackling wickedly as he steps on a branch and the sound of it snapping causes you to flinch and cry out, rushing forward to grab hold of his arm.

    “That’s not true!” You cry. 

    “Yeah, it is!” Andrew argues. There’s a bit of a ditch in front of the two of you, and he shakes you off before he hops down. He holds his hand out to help you navigate the drop, and you take it eagerly as you carefully get down, making sure not to dirty your skirts any more than they had been. 

    “No, it’s not! It’s not true! It’s not true because I have you, remember? Big brothers are supposed to protect their little sisters!” You persist once you’re finished. Andrew sighs again, but you don’t doubt his answer for a second. He rolls his eyes at you before he begins to walk on.

    “Of course I am. But you can’t expect me to get to you every time.” Andrew says. You’re about to refute that when the two of you hear a rustling in the bushes up ahead. Andrew holds out a hand to keep you behind him, stopping both of you in your tracks. The birds have stopped singing, and you know that it means something scary is about to happen. Dad calls it a bad oh-men or something along those lines, but you didn’t usually listen to him. Now you’re starting to wish you had.

    “Stay here. I think I hear something up ahead.” Andrew whispers to you. You try to grab for his arms as he leaves you, but he’s too far away, and you find your feet rooted to the spot. You’re too scared to move, holding your hands anxiously as you watch Andrew begin to stumble through the bushes cautiously. You don’t like this. You don’t like it at all. You can only see his head through once he’s through the thick of it, and you hear him huff in disappointment when he doesn’t find anything on the other side.

    “Never mind. There’s not even-” There’s a sound of a mechanical snap before Andrew falls to the ground with a scream. 

    “Andy!” You cry out, immediately bolting through the bush. Branches and briars get caught on your skirt and tear at your skin as you push through to get to him. Your brother is shouting and grunting in pain when you see him, tears dotting his eyes as he stares down at the sight of his ankle caught firmly between the teeth of a bear trap.

    “Stupid trap!” He cries out, his hands shaking from adrenaline. You don’t know what to do, standing frozen at the bloody sight before you, mind going back and forth between whether or not you should go to your brother or run home to get your parents.

     “Help me get it off!” Andrew shouts, and it’s enough to finally bring you back to the situation. You can only nod frantically as you kneel by his side. Hands shaking as you help your brother try and open the trap and get it off of him. The metal digs into your fingers as you try to pry it open, your brother grunting and crying with the effort to do so. You can only think of what your parents will say, what Andrew will do. What if it got infected? What if he lost his foot completely? You realize you’re crying as you and Andrew try with all your might to pull the trap open, grip beginning to slip on the contraption right as Andrew tugs his leg out of the trap. It snaps closed violently after, barely missing both of your fingertips as Andrew rolls away from it.

    “What- What do we do? Andy?” You ask, unable to do much but stare as your brother writes in pain. It’s all happening so fast, but god did everything feel so slow. Andrew manages to make out something about stopping the bleeding, and you’re right on it as you press your small hands to the bloody, mangled, flesh. You squeeze tightly as you pray and pray and pray for him to stop bleeding, shutting your eyes tightly as you sob and cry and wish you could do something, anything more to help your big brother.

    There’s a buzzy feeling in your hands, like pins and needles without the pain. You don’t see it happening as you sit there and bawl for your brother, his warm blood on your hands all you can manage to feel in the moment. The blood begins to slow, and slow, and you don't even realize it has stopped until everything seems to be just as quiet as before. You realize that Andrew isn’t crying anymore, and find yourself brave enough to cautiously open your eyes.

    To your surprise, you don’t see anything. 

    All there is is Andrew’s blood staining his ripped pants and both of your hands- but the strangest part of all was that there was no more wound. Not even a bruise remained of the bone-deep cuts that had been there just a moment before. Your tears begin to dry up as your eyebrows furrow, still hiccuping as you look on at the scene in confusion. When you look up at your brother, he’s wide-eyed. Staring at you in complete shock.

    “Was that you that did that?”  He asks. You don’t know what to say. You don't know. You begin to notice a soreness in your leg as the two of you sit there, simply staring at each other in shock. Eventually, Andrew swallows, before he tries to stand up, doing so effortlessly and without pain. He stretches and flexes his leg, moving it back and forth like his brain is still playing catch up. You try to follow his lead, only to cry out in pain and stumble. There's a deep purple bruise circling your leg when you raise your skirt, one that perfectly mimicked the bloody hole in Andrew’s pants where his own wound once had been.

    He carried you back home that day.

    The Great War began on July 28th, 1914. The archduke of Austria, Franz Ferdinand, had been assassinated, thus causing a series of events that spiraled into the worst war that the world had ever seen until that point. Your brother was quickly whisked away into the battle once the fight had started. He quickly advanced through the ranks, his ever-present charm and intelligence being a boon to him, and an asset to many others. He had always been the fighter. Your bother Andrew, your protector, and keeper of your secrets, now a general in the Canadian army. You could hardly believe it. 

    You, on the other hand, had begun to educate yourself at your brother’s behest. You became a nurse, finding yourself drawn to the field in the absence of the many men who had left mainland hospitals to go to war. You loved it. You loved helping people heal and survive, thrive even, but even so, you had become rather secretive about your natural gifts. Andrew, as supportive as he was, knew that the world would never accept powers like yours. As guilty as you felt every time a patient had slipped through the doctor’s fingers, you knew better. Your healing abilities took from you a fraction of what it gave to others, and using it was just not possible in large doses. You knew that and knew to listen to your brother’s warnings. Still, it did not stop you completely. Healing a wound or broken bone now and then in the shadows, where there was no one there to see. Miracles became your specialty, but your medical knowledge had become your backbone.

    At the end of April, you were surprised to receive a letter from your brother, the contents of it being a plea for you to join him in the war efforts. They needed nurses, trained, knowledgeable, nurses. You would be by his side as much as possible, but you were needed across the sea. And well, if it was your brother asking, who were you to refuse?

Novemver 2nd, 1917

    "You are to keep your medical supplies cleanly and well maintained. I understand that you aren't exactly green in this line of work, but let me tell you, you haven't seen war yet." The senior nurse in front of you has no time for fools, you have only known her for a moment, and yet you know this for a fact. Her pace is fast and purposeful. Her skirt is muddied and stained, and yet her boots do not seem to sink or stick in the mud like yours do as you try your best to keep up with her. Nurse Mary is strict in personality and pace, and you're careful to follow directly behind her throughout the busy encampment. 

Everyone seems to have something urgent to attend to, soldiers and nurses and medics alike all running about through the mud and dirt. There are many hospital tents, many more than you had originally anticipated. You begin to realize exactly why your brother had been so firm in instructing you to refrain from assisting any wounded beyond what help lies within sutures and gauze. 

    “How often do the wounded arrive?” You ask, following her into a rather large hospital tent and passing by various cots with wounded men.

    “You should expect them to arrive every day. The wounded are many, but the dead are more, god rest their souls.”  She tells you, one of her hands clutching the cross around her neck for a moment. There are many things you have learned throughout your schooling, and many gruesome sights you know to expect, but the one thing that still gave you chills was the death toll. You try not to think about it too hard, knowing that it’s just the truth of war that good men go to die. But that doesn’t mean you will ever be forced to be comfortable with it. You pass many rows of wounded soldiers as you follow her through, many being gravely injured with missing and mangled limbs, and shrapnel in places where it should never be. You keep your bedside manner in check, but you know half of those men won’t make it through the night.

    “We should be grateful for the men who return to our care, but please keep in mind that we are the only buffer between them and god. You must understand that losing these men isn’t an if, it’s a when.” You nod solemnly in response to her, quelling the anxiety in your heart. You knew very well that she was right. You casually look around the hospital tent, doing your best to help familiarise yourself with the surroundings when a puff of smoke catches your eye.

    You don’t know where to laugh or scold the man, brown eyes meeting your own as he quickly tries to hide the cigar. Nurse Mary clearly had not seen him, but you certainly did. You can’t help but smile in a baffled sort of way, and the soldier- the quite handsome soldier- smirks, shrugging his shoulders at you. You try not to laugh, choosing to simply shake your head instead of pointing it out to Nurse Mary. It’s something he clearly appreciates, and he tips his head at you, winking as you finally pass him by. You hope you’re not blushing, quickly looking away from him with a smile on your face that you couldn’t fight off.

    “Are you paying attention, Miss? Your brother spoke very highly of your skills, it would be a shame if it were all to be lies.” The nurse ahead of you says, a strict tone in her voice. It almost startles you, bringing you back to earth after the solid minute of distraction the brown-eyed soldier had caused. 

    “I- yes. I apologize. Please, continue.” You reply quickly. You can tell she’s not quite convinced but doesn’t have the time to care, reminding you that there would be little to no time to dally once you had been given decent instruction about the facilities. You’re eager to get to work, and decide that there would be no more distractions today- no matter how charming or handsome they seem to be.

—-

    You were assigned work the moment your walkthrough had been conducted. No downtime, no breaks. You wonder if you truly had any idea how bad things would be where you got here. Seeing the wounded was one thing, but reading their chart was another. You felt detached as you conducted physicals, changed bandages, and redressed wounds and cuts. You checked for infections in those with amputated limbs, knowing that death would soon come for those who were so unfortunate. The difference between any of the men was astounding- wounds from this war unlike any that you had ever seen before. You had heard of the new weapons, the horrors that geniuses had developed so that others would die. It pains you that someone could be so ignorant and cruel- and yet even you hope that you would never have to face those instruments of war.

   Out of all the strange and unusual wounds and war-torn soldiers you met on that day, there was only one who you remembered in truly remarkable detail.

    You see the puff of smoke before you see him, lounging on the backboard of his hospital cot without a care in the world. Besides some old bandages on his chest, you can tell that he’s not in any pain. To be honest, you start to wonder if he belongs in this infirmary at all. He’s distracted, cigar held up to his lips as he takes a deep inhale of the smoke, drowning out his senses with the nicotine. 

    “You must be feeling pretty confident to be breaking the only rule we have in here.” You say, raising an eyebrow at him. He chokes on the smoke rather suddenly, trying to recover as quickly as he can as he puts the cigar out. You give him a sweet smile, trying your best not to laugh. He smiles sort of unabashedly at you, shrugging. 

    “Can’t blame a man for tryin’.” He coughs. You shake your head at him, lifting some papers on your clipboard before you find the one assigned to his cot. Your eyes are immediately drawn to his list of past injuries and causes of infirmary visits. How is this man even alive?

    “Logan Howlett, I presume? You’re pretty perky for a man who has such a long list of injuries.” You state, still reading it through. You’ve never seen this many on one chart before- all dating from the very start of the war to his current visit. Logan gives you a shrug of his shoulders, which isn’t exactly a response you would prefer, but he smiles at you in a charming sort of way that makes your heart flutter. 

    “They call me Lucky Logan for a reason,” Logan hums- causing you to huff a laugh. You shake your head at him, setting the clipboard down on the edge of the bed before you begin conducting a physical and checking on his “wounds.”- not that there really was any besides an odd, yellowed bruise or two that you could almost swear seemed to be lightening by the minute.

    “ ‘You new here?” You glance up at him at the sound of his voice, smiling a bit out of politeness.

   “Why, Is it that easy to tell?” You ask, knowing that he certainly knew so due to him seeing you earlier, but you wonder for a moment if you seemed to be any different from the other nurses. You always strived to be good at what you do, but part of you had a tendency to worry if you could keep up with the others here.

    “Nah,” He says, bluntly. “I just think I’d remember if I had seen a pretty nurse like you before.”  The words make you gape for a moment, that smile still showing as you shake your head at him and try not to laugh. He was a flirt- a rather smooth one too. 

    “Do you use that line on all the ladies?” You tease as you pull out your stethoscope to listen to his heart. You listen, and besides the fact that his heart rate is a little faster than the regular average, you don’t seem to notice anything too strange.

    “Only the ones as pretty as you.” He says. You don’t hold back your laugh at that, and his genuine smile is definitely contagious. You check his eyesight and overall mobility one more time once you’re done, trying not to blush at the way he’s looking at you. You feel his gaze even when you step away to write on his chart, finishing things up.

    “Well, Mr. Howlett, you seem to have a perfect bill of health,” Logan perks up a bit at that, moving to where he can sit on the side of the cot, his feet on the ground. “...but I can’t completely release you just yet. You’re free to wander around some, but you’ll have to wait for the doc to give you one last look-over before you can go back to the frontlines.” He lets out a dramatic sigh, frowning for only a minute before he stands, winking at you as he grabs his shirt from underneath the cot- the bloodied one they wheeled him in here with, no doubt, and puts it on.

    “If that means I’ll be seeing you more often, I’ll take it.” He flirts. You laugh, knowing that you very well might have swooned if you had been any greener to this line of work. Instead, all you can really do is cringe at the sight of his shirt and lean down to the small table to his right, the one where his chart had been, and open the drawer, revealing a freshly clean set of clothes. 

    “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Smokey.” You joke, finding his surprised face rather endearing. It only takes a moment before he’s smirking again, taking the clothes from you and doing a mock toast to you with the cloth. You shake your head at him, trying to keep your smile contained as you walk away from him and over to your next patient.

    You find yourself thinking about him throughout the day, both delighted and somewhat frustrated at yourself for swooning so easily over a soldier- on your first day, too. You had told yourself when you took this job that you would never do such a thing, knowing that so many romances in a time like this end in tragedy- but you certainly couldn’t seem to help it. You think about him when the other nurses talk about their personal soldiers, out there fighting the war, and think about him again before you go to bed. It was frustrating! You met a man and knew him a whole ten minutes before swooning like a schoolgirl. You suppose it felt nice to be wanted nonetheless and felt nice to be complemented by someone you found so handsome… But you didn’t need to be thinking so hard about this right now anyway. You roll over onto your side in your bed, hoping to fall asleep soon instead of spending time thinking about something that won’t happen.

    Besides, there wasn’t a chance in hell that your brother would ever approve of any relationship you had with a soldier. You were sure that if he had his way, you would die as a spinster- forever reliant on the family. Your dreams that night are more like nightmares, dreaming of faces and growing old and rocking in a chair alone in your brother’s house, a burden to his finances, his wife, and children. But then there are some dreams where you see the face of one particular soldier, and wonder why you felt so compelled by him.

[magewritesstories]

[ ᴊᴇꜱꜱ ᴍᴀʀɪᴀɴᴏ ] ʜɪꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴘᴇᴀᴛ ɪᴛꜱᴇʟꜰ

summary: jess moves back to stars hollow to open a new branch of truncheon books in his hometown, and tries not to murder the girl living in the apartment above him and the town enjoys watching another grumpy business owner fall in love with a bubbly inn manager. TW: none note: in love with him and not even in a funny way, i need a jess

“Are you sure this is the place you want?” Andrew asked for what felt like the millionth time. The bookstore owner gave the 25-year-old a nervous stare as he signed the last few papers.

“Yes, Andrew, for the millionth time, this is the place.” Jess sighed, he couldn’t blame the man for his hesitance, he hadn’t exactly left a good impression on the people of Stars Hollow while living there.

Out of all the places he’d imagined settling down, Stars Hollow, Connecticut was incredibly low on the list. 

But he couldn’t deny the fact that it was a good commerce town, people passed through on business or on their way to Hartford all the time. So when his friends asked him where they should open a new branch of their bookstore, it was the first place he thought of.

Once all the paperwork was finished, Jess had spent the week driving back-and-forth from Philadelphia to Stars Hollow and everything was finally done. 

Andrew took papers, “Okay, I’ll get these to Kirk—” He moved to grab his bags— “Have you met Y/N yet?”

Jess shook his head, Y/N the mysterious person that lived in the apartment above the bookstore, “Nope, haven’t run into her yet.” Andrew nodded, “Well, I better get going.”

Once the older man had left, Jess turned to the bookstore. There were cardboard boxes everywhere, and all the bookshelves had been emptied along with the walls, where the hanging bookshelves had made place for paintings.

Jess started to unload the first box of books when Luke walked in, with you tailing behind him.

“Oh come on, don’t lie,” You insisted, “It is so a different brand.”

The older man sighed, maneuvering his way through the mounds of boxes. “Y/N, for the last time: I’ve been using the same brand of coffee for the past twenty years.”

You crossed your arms, “Liar, I know you did something different with it.”

“Well fine, you got me, I put drugs in yours hoping they would shut you up,” Luke deadpanned, handing Jess a paper bag, “Here’s your lunch.”

You turned to him as well, “Oh, you must be Jess!” You exclaimed excitedly, “I’m Y/N, I live upstairs.”

You stretched out your hand for him to shake. Jess stared at you, it was 9 in the morning, how were you so upbeat already?

“This is the part where you take my hand and tell me it’s nice to meet me,” You whisper jokingly. “Jess Mariano,” He replied, shaking your hand as you give him a bright smile.

“Don’t you have places to be?” Luke questioned, staring at you. You raise an eyebrow at him, “What’re you talking about?”

The older man sighed exasperatedly, “The Inn.” Your E/C went wide in realisation, “Michel’s going to kill me!”

Without another word, you ran towards the door, almost tripping over a box of paintings on your way out, “Sorry!” You excused, and quite frankly Jess wasn’t sure if you were talking to the box or him.

“Wow,” He breathed as he watched you made your way down the street, only to stop halfway to pet Babette’s cat before resuming your run.

Luke nodded, a small smile on his face, “Yeah, that girl’s a storm with skin,” He replied, “So, you need any help with these boxes?”

Jess groaned as Voulez-Vous played loudly upstairs. He couldn’t say anything about it yet, though, per Stars Hollow rules you were allowed to play music as loud as you wanted to until 10 PM.

When Toxic started playing he had enough. He made his way up the creaky stairs. You’d left your door open, and Jess took it as a sign to go inside. 

You were standing on your couch, singing along to the song, using your spatula as a mic. Jess watched you jump off and spin around, before finally coming to a halt in front of him.

“Oh, Jess, hi!” You grinned, not even slightly flustered, “Can I help you?” 

“Yes, you can, by turning that god awful music down.”

Your eyes went wide, “Shit, is it ten already?” He shook his head, “No, you just have bad taste in music.”

You laughed, “Right, you’re the kind of guy that listens exclusively to Metallica and Iron Maiden,” You teased, “Hey, I’m making cookies, you want some?  They’re almost done.”

“What I want is for you to turn down the music,” He deadpanned, arms crossed over his chest. You shrugged, “‘Kay, Roommate.” You reached for the stereo and turned down the music.

“Are you my roommate, ‘cause you’re not the landlord, you rent the place too, but you don’t sleep here— or your not supposed to, I’ve seen you sleeping on the couch— but your not my neighbour either,” You rambled, smiling at him.

“Just keep the music down,” He grumbled, “And if you have to play it at max volume, play some decent music.”

An hour after your little encounter, you came skipping down the steps, a plate of cookies in hand. “You never told me whether you wanted the cookies or not,” You said, putting the plate down, “So I brought them anyway.”

The black-haired man stared between the plate of cookies and your bright smile in confusion. Finally he rolled his chair away from the desk and grabbed something out of the drawer near him.

“Here,” He said, handing you a CD he’d burned himself, “Some acceptable music I think you’d like.”

You inspected the plastic case and grinned, “Thank you.” With one last sunbeam of a smile you turned around and practically skipped up the steps to you apartement.

[travisjackson]

He was thankful for Andrew. He understood him and didn't push him to talk or explain. Not like his other brother. "It's put away, that's for sure." He'd get it out by the end of the week, but for now, he kept it hidden. "Just don't understand what it's supposed to do. Can't bring them back and it just makes me irritated." He mumbled as the got to the graves of his wife and son. His heart filled with pain and he swallowed as he knelt and touched the stone. "He'd be sixteen." His fingers ran over the dates on his son's headstone. "I'd be a father of a teenager. Can you believe that?" @drewxjackson

"I know, you don't need to explain." Andrew was lucky enough he hadn't experienced loss. Still had all his siblings, both his parents, never lost a partner or a child. He had lost friends but that had always been his own doing. Perhaps the fact he was shunned by his father came closest, but nothing comparable in the slightest. He chuckled when Travis mentioned his twin, letting out a breath. "Yeah, don't blame you there. Bet you locked yours behind lock and key now, huh?" @travisjackson

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

If you enjoy this, you can buy me a Ko-fi :) Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

TW: PAST SUICIDAL IDEATION, attempts of physical abuse (throwing objects), basically reader's mother being a really horrible narcissistic abusive person.

[Please read while listening to this.]

Listen to that. The opening strains of that old Elvis classic began to swell; a hush fell over the assembled guests. All eyes were drawn to the dance floor where Sabrina now stood, radiant in her lovely gown, and Andrew looked at her with such veneration, as if she had hung the very moon in the sky. In the arms of her now-husband for their first dance as a married couple, the newlyweds shone brighter than the stars outside the manor.

Sabrina’s cheeks flushed rosier than any wine—joy, adoration, and yes, a little champagne too—had left her glowing in a way you’d never seen before this man came into her life, and your heart swelled with happiness for her.

When at last the song ended and they shared a lingering kiss, you joined the room in applause. Someone handed them a mic, and the two tried to pass the mic to each other until Sabrina was the first to give a speech. Andrew squeezed her hand, gave her an encouraging smile, and nodded.

Clearing her throat, Sabrina spoke into the mic. “Hi, everyone,” she began, voice ringing out sweet and clear through the speakers. “I just want to say thank you all for being here on this special day. Sharing it with my family and friends who mean so much to me has made it truly magical.” Another applause returned her gratitude before receding again when she was about to continue.

With misty eyes, Sabrina then turned to her step-father. “I want to thank Jim, for raising me as your own since I was little. You’ve always been the best dad a girl could ask for.”

Then, you watched her smile at her mother. “And Mom, where do I even begin? You've been my rock since day one. From keeping me sane while wedding planning to celebrating with me every step, you know I wouldn't be here without you. I wouldn't be the strong, independent woman I am today without you and Jim. I love you both so much.”

When Sabrina's parents—Jim and Joyce—approached her and gave the couple a big hug, another round of applause arose from the guests. But as Joyce placed a final kiss on Sabrina's cheek before stepping back, the world seemed to dim around you.

Suddenly, everything is so foreign—the image in front of you was never presented to you. Aunt Joyce looks genuinely happy for her daughter, and Sabrina hugs her like she cannot imagine life without her mother—which, at some point in your life, you did believe too. Mother’s words, “You won’t survive without me,” ring like angry bees.

Yet now, the thought of sharing a roof with her again feels unbearable.

Joyce and Sabrina look... uncomplicated, despite your mother's statements about how your aunt wasn't prepared for motherhood. And suddenly, everything feels numb, and you're disconnected.

In your reverie, you missed some of the speeches, only blinking back to reality when Sabrina and Andrew’s enthusiastic cheers echoed through the room. The crowd roared as the romantic notes of the new music played, “Until I Found You” inviting guests to join in the dancing.

As you do at the few parties you’ve been invited to in your entire life, you stay away from the dance floor and become a loyal wallflower. However, this time, with a companion—a better people-watcher than you, Simon. The man sweeps his brown irises around, examining people before one makes him chuckle under his mask.

“Look at that old man, still got it in ‘im, eh?” He commented, his tone tinged with amusement.

Your gaze trails Simon's. Among the dancing couples were your other uncle and aunt, their smiles highlighting the lines on their seventy-something faces, clearly having more life in them than many of the younger ones. You chuckled to yourself.

“Actually, that’s Uncle Mick and Aunt Sarah,” you reply, watching the old couple share a laugh amidst the music. “They’ve been married longer than I’ve been alive. Slow dancing is kind of their forte.”

More people-watching, but you fail to notice how often Simon steals glances at you between his own. And by the luminosity of your eyes, he is drawn like an insect in a blazing fire. His slow, "near-dying" heart has yet to realize the change in him. Simon plays on the edges of the rotting wood.

Straightening his gaze, he strikes up a question: “If that old bugger can still cut a rug, why ain’t the famous ballerina ‘avin’ a spin, eh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Simon’s gruff invitation, the sound bubbling up from deep in your chest with a foreign carefree ring that you didn’t recognize. Meeting his eyes, you saw amusement there but also something that told you he was serious. Heart tiptoeing at the edges of your ribs, your fingers busying themselves with their own bustle.

Biting your lip, you gazed up at him through your lashes, feeling a smile curling the corners of your mouth. "I don't know," you shrugged your shoulders. “I might suck at slow dancing.”

Simon scoffed. “Absolute bollocks.”

At his disapproval, your smile widened, teeth peeking out from behind those pretty lips. You gazed up at him, searching for something intently.

Somehow in that moment, the noisy celebration around you seemed to fade into a blur, narrowing your world until it was just Simon standing before you. Your chest warmed, as if caressed by the sun on a lush spring day. Capillaries rushed, painting your bones pink. Pink.

Gathering your courage, you mimicked Simon's invitation. “Unless... you're willing to be the judge of that yourself?”

The question came out just above a whisper, heavy with promise. With your heart dangling at the tip of your throat, anticipation mixed with anxiety gnawed at you faster than any termite. Simon gave a subtle nod towards the dance floor with his chin.

“Come on then,” he rumbled.

As Simon led you, you couldn’t help but feel like Cinderella herself; this room made a fairytale for you. He wrapped his strong arms around your waist, pulling you close so your bodies swayed as one. You shyly wrapped your free hands around his neck.

The romantic music continues to flow, caressing your ears with the singer's warm voice, Stephen Sanchez, if your memory serves you right. The merciless thumping in your ribcage persists, and you wonder if Simon feels it, if he has his own version resonating in the hollow of his chest. Settling into a slow sway, you feel his shoulders relax.

“You’re not gonna turn into a swan on me now, are ya? Would be a right shame to ruin such a lovely dance.” Simon asked, tone lighthearted. After mentioning your upcoming ballet performance, he doesn’t slow down his series of jokes about it.

You threw your head back in laughter. “You know that’s not how the story goes.”

Simon's grin grew wide beneath his mask. Cocking a brow, he said, “Oh yeah? Enlighten me then, love.” He challenged.

Taking a deep breath that lifted the smile still on your face, you began the long story of Swan Lake—about what happened to Odette and her flock by the sparkling lake and mostly things you had memorized many times. "So when Siegfried finally learns the truth, it’s too late—Odette ends her life by jumping from a cliff.”

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” he reacts, and you let out a girlish laugh. “That’s tragic.”

You shrug. “I always thought it was kind of romantic.” You giggle again—God, the way this man can make you giggle like a silly schoolgirl—when you see the reaction reflected in his eyes.

“You’re a right bloody psycho, you know that?”

You deadpanned. “I’m not a psycho.” Your tone was flat, trying to be serious but the stubborn grin that followed ruined it.

“She should’ve just gone for another bloke.”

You rolled your eyes. “No, she can’t. She’s been cursed to be a swan forever.”

“Then she should’ve just lived out ‘er days as a swan then,” he said with pragmatism, very much lacking the charm of a fairy tale with all those logics. “Should’ve chased that arse’ole prince all over kingdom for revenge instead. Give ‘im a good peckin’.”

You exhaled in exasperation, but your lips held back a smile. “Please just stop talking.”

Simon chuckled, and fortunately, for his own good, he did. The music was nearing its end, but you were still swaying. Something caught his gaze over your shoulder. He looked back at you, raising a brow to make a suggestion.

“Should we do a spin?” he asked.

“What?”

He nods his chin behind you, and you follow suit—a young couple laughing as they twirl. “Should we give it a go?”

It's somewhat whimsical, somewhat absurd, that not only is this hulking man dancing with you, but he also wished to twirl you like you were partners in some grand ballroom. Yet, as you stare into his smiling eyes, you swear there’s a hint of excitement in them. And what good is a ballerina without a performative twirl?

“Okay,” you accepted his offer.

You placed your hand in his, feeling the rough calluses of his fingers but somehow right against your skin. At your subtle cue, Simon raised your joined palms, spinning you outward in elegance and then back into the solid wall of his chest.

“One more time.” You said, and he did as you asked.

You cup his mask-hidden jaw, feeling for each woven polypropylene against your fingers. The plum of your smiling lips swells with desire, and without thinking, you press your lips to his cheek. Your heart skips a beat, gripped by a jolt of trepidation, fear, and regret that perhaps you have crossed a line, that you might drive him away.

But Simon doesn't.

Instead, he seized your waist and drew you close, eliminating any distance between you. The air was snatched from your lungs in a stolen gasp with the force of his possessive move. Like a lover accompanied by passion as he reaps longing.

(I swell with hope, in the sweet desire of a girl seeking love.)

“I’m dyin’ for a smoke.” He confessed.

You glanced around at the lively party still swirling around you. Turning back to him, you suggested, “Should we slip out the back then?”

“Sure.”

Smiling up at him, you gave his hand a gentle squeeze before untangling them from your waist. “You go on ahead—I just need to swap to flats real quick.” You gestured to the high heels that had been enveloping your throbbing toes for hours.

As Simon nodded and turned to go, you hurried off the floor, limping just slightly. The celebratory noise faded as you stepped to the left side of the manor, where the hallway to your room stretched in silence. You turned the doorknob, and the old wood swung with a low creak.

Walking to your suitcase, you flipped it open, took out your Mary Janes, and replaced your high heels with them with a sigh of relief.

Just as you moved to stand, you heard footsteps approaching, then a shadow fell across the open door. Too small to be Simon. Looking up with a start, your heart nearly dropped when you found your mother standing there, arms crossed in a frown full of distaste.

“I've been watching you all night with that… man. You're getting far too comfortable, are you?”

That tone—that same tone that you had heard countless times growing up, signaling the beginnings of an argument. Your shoulders tensed. The pulse inside you quickened as your defenses began to rise, readying themselves in anticipation of the barrage of barbed words that might come next.

The oceans dividing San Francisco and London were supposed to end whatever connection existed between you both—to pretend that it didn’t exist. It should have been a clean finale, allowing you to simply live as a normal girl with normal reactions to everything, as if nothing bad had ever happened to you.

Yet, look, your traitor body is gearing up for battle just the same. Your mind may lie, you may lie, but the wound bearer presents the results of years of being forged beneath her. 5,351 miles stretched, but you are still the same sixteen-year-old girl who bit her tongue, holding her words like a criminal about to be executed on the spot.

What a mother-daughter relationship you have.

You watch warily as Mother begins circling the room, her high heels clicking ominously, slightly showing the red soles beneath them. Louboutins, you remember. You also remember all too well how much those had cost—the very shoes you had “helped” fund years ago when you foolishly still let her access your bank account, even after you turned nineteen.

“Do you know why he’s here?” Mother tries the first question, testing the waters.

Like a frightened little girl—that same little girl from that sunny day so many years ago—you deflect the real question, “Because I invited him.”

Mother, unimpressed, casts you a sharp look, as if daring you to dare her. “You know what I mean. Do you know why he’s here?”

You bit your lip, grasping at straws. “He’s… my boyfriend.”

Mother scoffed mockingly. She turned to you, face contorted in amusement as if you had just told the funniest joke. “Boyfriend? Please. Is that what you think?”

You flinched back as Mother suddenly whirled to face you, her sculpted features twisting into a reflection of pure, unbridled rage. The similar pair of eyes glared at you wide. She buried her nails deep into your epidermis, and you gasped from the sting.

“The only reason a man would want you is between your legs. You think you found love, but really he's with you only because you're easy. You’re just a cheap fuck to him, (Y/N).”

The hot, stinging droplets gathered and spilled over without your permission. You hated yourself for fueling her twisted satisfaction. Hating that she still knew exactly where to aim her barbs to find their mark after all these years.

But nothing compares to the fact that she is your mother. She is your mother, and yet, how could those words come out of her mouth so easily? As if her criticisms had festered within her mind and she was finally allowing them to escape. There's a small, broken part of you that can't help but wonder—and why do you even wonder? You know yourself better than she does, surely.

Or do you?

Or is it true that there really is nothing to take beyond your body like the unloveable, worthless child she always says you are?

You felt a spark of anger flare. “How could you say that to me?” you choked out, baring your wounded heart. Wrong move—you know this, proved many times that showing emotion had never gotten anywhere with Mother before.

But the younger, wounded teenager in you would always crave some kind of validation, some sign she truly cared. Perhaps hidden beneath the person she's become, she still holds a flicker of the warmth she once felt for you. You’re her daughter, and she’s your mother—shouldn’t that be enough for her to finally treat you like one?

“I’m only telling you the truth so you won’t be naive. Do you think he’ll love you when there are so many girls out there who are much prettier than you?”

At times, the wiser you knew not to take Mother’s words to heart—your survival instincts, born of too many experiences, told you not to let her poison seep into your skin. But more often than not, you didn’t know better. Right now, you don’t know better.

(Prying my mouth open, she dripped her bitter blood until we were indistinguishable.)

Clenching your fist, you say through gritted teeth, “You don’t know him.”

Mother’s features bent in hate at your rebellion. The young daughter no more, grown into someone who dared to talk back rather than just gulping down her every word raw.

“And you do?” she spat. “How long have you known this man? Don’t be stupid.”

“It’s none of your business,” you retorted, but not convinced enough for her to see the gap in your expression.

“Not my business? Of course it’s my business – I’m your mother!”

Summoning the last of your courage, you mumbled, “You’re not… my mother.”

Her neat eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What did you just say to me?”

It was a second chance, one she rarely gave. For a moment, you considered taking it back—rewording your reply to something less confrontational, something safer. But you were sick of it—years of carrying her wounds you hadn’t even caused, weighing your body down and sinking them deeper into pitless hell. Of always looking past her anger and ego, finding justifications and reasons to tolerate her. Of being under her control when the young girl inside you needed her anger represented.

And you repeated it without rewording: “You’re not my mother. Not anymore.”

As it left your lips, you saw a flicker of change in Mother’s expression—was that hurt in her eyes? So foreign was her expression that you almost doubted yourself. Regret seized you along with the guilt and self-loathing that gripped your heart.

Then, the hurt blinked away as if it was never there. “Look at you,” she hissed, “throwing away your mother, the woman who birthed and raised you with great difficulty, all for some worthless man. I'm not even surprised if you end up pregnant in a few months, or maybe you already are. Don't say I didn't warn you when he leaves you with a bastard child.”

And they were right when they said that anger is the most effective key.

Moments ago, you can still find the shadow of that sixteen-year-old girl remains within, with pieces of her innocence—a bit of a child’s grin. Her body is still in fear, yet her eyes are always yearning for praise from her mother’s voice.

However, as the grown woman you are ignites in a seething cauldron of fury—disagreement with Mother’s treatment—the little girl begins to fade, reduced to ashes amidst the fire. The “why” question echoes loudly with demands. I'm your baby—you made me; why do you hurt me?

“Why? Why are you so sure only bad things will happen? Why can’t you believe I can find happiness?” Warm tears welled up, tasting salty on your lips as you asked.

Mother raised a warning finger. “Don’t use that tone with me.”

But you’ve passed the point of backing down. “Why? Why are you so convinced I’ll always be unhappy? WHY?!”

(As if it had been written long before my creation.)

Taking a sharp, short breath, you feel self-control slipping away. Your lungs hitched with condemnation, constricting you, trying to escape the hell Mother handmade just for you. You’re crossing the line; something scolds (the same voice your mother planted early on) inside your head, but you refuse to give in.

The dim red light between the cracks in your skull grows brighter, and the next thing you say are the words you've been holding back for so long:

“I’m not you! And what happened with Dad was not my fault!”

And finally, silence fills the small space between you, followed by the faint echo of your voice. As the last syllable faded, the words that had been spoken left you feeling conflicted. That little girl would consider this disobedience—the result of the doctrine your mother spat at her every day—but all you know now is the strange lightness in your heart, as if shedding a massive burden that you didn’t realize you had been carrying your whole life.

Mother took a sharp, hissing breath, and you saw the subtle quiver in her clenched jaw. “You're out of line,” she said.

“I'm out of line?! You were the first one to cross that line, over and over, hurting me for years, but now that I finally do it to you, now I'm the one who's out of line?!” The words tumbled out of your mouth in a rush, all the pain and anger that you had piled up erupting to the surface. “You've always hurt me, said awful things, made me feel like nothing! But the second I did it to you, suddenly I'm the bad one? That's not fair!"

In the blink of an eye, she extends her perfectly manicured hand to grasp the first object within her reach—a heavy crystal paperweight on the table. Your eyes are glued to it, feet ready to flee when she hurls it at you.

“You fucking ungrateful bitch!” she screamed.

Some distant, rational part of you knows you should dodge. But a darker impulse held you frozen, as if welcoming the blunt object to damage your epidermis and even more so to become evidence of her abuse. And perhaps, once the crimson drips from your split temple, it will be enough to reveal the true identity she has been hiding—to destroy the loving mother image she has carefully built for years.

You will make a spectacle of the wound, perhaps even exaggerating it a bit like Mother always did.

It came so close when it landed on the floor next to you. You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Mother’s face flushed like the devil as she shouted, “I should never have given birth to you!”

Strange, that relief is what washes over you when her words land in your ears. Because for the first time, the two of you agreed on something – she wished you had never been born, just as you had so often wished the same.

Those “precious” teenage years were filled with alternating fantasies—some days hoping she might die, others wishing it was you instead. But you were never able to go through with killing her, or yourself. Because being without Mother meant being utterly lost and alone, and you were too cowardly to cut your wrist open. More days though, you regretted it—how it might have all ended sooner if only you had been braver.

You wonder who's to blame to just make sense of it—perhaps Mother's mother had been cruel, and she thought she had broken the cycle. Perhaps Joyce, for always being the golden child despite everything. Perhaps Dad. Perhaps you.

All those long, drawn-out years, you stayed, you suffered for her. Because the little girl in the bright pink shoes—the color that matched Mother's favorite dress before she threw it away—loved her mother so much. Always making excuses for her. Maybe she didn't know how to love me, or I didn't understand her way of loving me. Maybe somewhere in her anger were kisses in her own language.

You stood frozen as hollowness spread through your chest, as if the eruption had cleansed you until nothing but an empty clarity remained. Even when Simon entered the room, you didn't notice his presence until he spoke.

“Fuck’s all this?” His question didn’t really wait for an answer as he rushed to your side.

Mother smoothed her hair imperiously, then said: “We were just having a talk.”

Simon’s brown eyes scan the scene: the shattered paperweight, Mother’s suspicious fist. He then turns to examine you carefully, searching for any injuries and only letting out a slight sigh when he finds none.

“Go wait in the car. I’ll sort our things.” Simon orders, and without argument, you nod, walking out of the bedroom.

The room felt heavier with tension after you departed, leaving Simon alone with your seething mother. He moved with purpose, in a quick and efficient mind, as he gathered your things—a toothbrush and hairbrush from the bathroom, dresses from the closet, pulling out drawers for any other items. After throwing them into your suitcase, he tidied up his own things with even more haste and less care.

As he picked up his abandoned tie, Mother cleared her throat. “You don’t need to do this, you know. I know my daughter better than anyone, and she’s not what you really need.”

For a moment, Simon paused, jaw working as he reined his temper. Mother thought she had his attention—finally getting him to listen to her. But soon enough, he resumed his task as if she hadn’t spoken at all.

Undeterred, she pressed on. “There are prettier, worthier girls than her. Ones who won’t cause you so much trouble.”

Simon’s hands stilled at that, Mother thought she had succeeded in making him consider. Slowly, he turned to face the older woman. But what she read in his eyes was not a realization or even a spark of curiosity. No, it was a look that suggested he knew a lot about people like her, had seen a lot despite him being a decade her junior.

“That what you tell ‘er then?” He began, hate raining down like hail in his voice. “That she ain’t good enough, or pretty enough? That she’s nothin’ but trouble?”

The woman met his gaze, and Simon noticed how her eyes were shaped like yours, except colder, full of twisted conviction whenever she talked about you. “I only speak the truth, for her own good. Someone has to keep that headstrong girl in line before she comes to ruin.”

At that, he let out an impolite scoff, but Simon gave zero fucks. “Yeah? Cause all I see is you tryin’ to keep ‘er under yer thumb.”

Simon watched as the woman's face contorted into an ugly frown of dislike; her mask had been abandoned somewhere. He wondered how you survived all those years at home, how you could still say you “love her to bits” on your first meeting.

But he supposes that’s how children are. Misplaced unconditional love for their lifegivers. Sometimes, his critical mind thinks it’s a shame for the Man in the Sky to give little humans to people who don’t deserve them—to abusers, addicts, snakes like this one right here. But then again, Simon had no right to complain when he stopped believing in any of all that years ago—after he lost everyone that mattered.

"I'm her mother." She repeated.

“And she’s yer daughter. Not yer pet or yer little dog to order about.”

As Simon returned to tending to the bags, the woman took a slow, deep breath. "I know men like you," she replied. “You think you're protecting her—you think you're saving her, but all you want is a girl to use and toss aside once you've grown bored.”

Simon’s tedious task came to a halt, the zipper of the bag half-open. He furrowed his blond brows, brown eyes focused on nothing. Before long, he gathered the bags and shouldered them, his free hand dragging the suitcase as he walked through the gaping door. That woman spoke again, but he turned a deaf ear to her venomous spit.

@strawberrygato @aprosiacperson @chipsbuttercream @arrozyfrijoles23 @pastel-devil-06 @rroseskull

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[meo-on-prairie]

No Body, No Crime

Satosugu x reader

Prompt: You know in your soul that he did it, but there are no ways for you to prove a feeling. But you can play this game he started, and you won’t give up until the day he dies.

Words count: 6.3k

Tags: Satosugu x reader established, Fluff, angst, murder, Slightly suggestive, crime. TW: death, murder, dismemberment, disturbing actions, infidelity, manipulation, and revenge mdni.

Rambling: I was on the verge of tears when I finished this fic, idek if I like it anymore lmao, so if you don't like it, idk what to tell you lmao. I honestly don’t know what to tag this fic as. Just like beware that it’s inspired by: “no body, no crime” by Taylor Swift (of course), The Glory K-drama, and the countless murder podcast I listen to while driving. I hope yall enjoy.

/////////

Odd. Shoko is late, 2 hours late to be exact. She’s not exactly the most punctual person you know but she has never been this late. Especially not on the monthly dinner with you, Suguru, and Satoru. After graduating college together, the 4 of you have made a point to have dinner together at least once a month.

This monthly dinner is something none of you would ever miss. All of you have been making it work for years, through the career changes, through your shitty ex-relationship, through the time when you were confused about how you feel toward Satoru and Suguru. Even after Shoko decided to get married to this Neonatologist named Andrew she met at the hospital she works at, the 4 of you still keep up the routine. 

The three of you took turns calling her the past 2 hours and nothing. Straight to voicemail. Not even a text saying she can’t make it today and to reschedule. Odd. you can’t get rid of this nauseating feeling in your stomach.

“Let’s go” you stand up abruptly and begin to walk out of the restaurant toward the parking lot.

“Where are we going?” Satoru asked. Both him and Suguru hurried after you. Satoru unlocked the car, and Suguru opened the door for you to get in. Ever since you joined the relationship, they made a point to never let you drive or touch the car door, ‘you’re our treasure, you will be treated like one’. 

“I want to drop by Shoko’s place, maybe she’s got tired from her night shift and overslept or something, I don't know, I just want to make sure nothing is wrong.” You’re panicking, they can see that. During college, if Satoru and Suguru were attached by the hips, you and Shoko were never one without the other. You can’t simply just shake off this anxiety you feel when it comes to your best friend. 

They nodded and got into the front seats. They don’t question you. They know how much Shoko means to you, not to mention she’s their friend too. Satoru drives the three of you to Shoko’s place while Suguru tries to calm your anxiety. 

“It’s okay, Sweet. You’re probably right about her being deep asleep due to her night shift. She seems pretty stressed and tired lately from her text.” Suguru reasoned.

Satoru gives a slight nod and adds, “Her phone could be dead, and she missed the alarm that would wake her up for our dinner”.

“Yeah… I hope you’re right.” You feel slightly better from the reasonable and likely scenarios they proposed. Still, it couldn't get rid of this sinking feeling you feel in your stomach.. 

After a short drive, you three reach Shoko’s house. You notice that her husband's truck is in front of the driveway, the tires are brand new, it looks like he just got them replaced today. Odd. Very rarely do people replace all their tires at once. You chalk it up to just coincidence. You walk toward her door and ring the doorbell, Andrew answers the door. 

“Hey man, is Shoko home? She was supposed to meet us for dinner around 2 hours ago.” Satoru greeted

“No. She’s not home. I don't know where she is.” Andrew answered abruptly. 

“Well, did something happen? Did some emergency come up with her family? She’s your wife, out of everyone she would at least tell you where she is.” Suguru pressed him for more information. It doesn’t make sense for him to not know where his wife is at this hour.

“I told you! I don’t know where she is! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a night shift to get ready for.” With that, Andrew slammed the door to your faces. 

Odd. He sounded agitated, and anxious. Like he’s trying to hide something… deny something. Your whole body is shaken in fear with the thoughts of the worst. Nothing makes sense. Shoko would never just vanish without telling anyone. She literally messaged the group chat yesterday saying she’ll see you three at dinner and she has something to tell you all. Nothing makes sense. 

Satoru noticed how pale your face had gone and immediately pulled you in for a hug, “It’s going to be okay, Love. She’s going to be okay. We’ll wait till tomorrow and see if she’ll contact us. Then we’ll figure out what to do from there okay?” he said in a hush tone. 

“Everything is going to be okay, Sweet. We’ll figure it out together.” Suguru gives your temple a long kiss as he runs his hand up and down your back in a soothing motion.

The three of you drove home in silence. You didn’t dare to leave your phone for one second, you went to sleep with your phone unmuted. Suguru and Satoru make sure at least one of them is by your side at all times. They worry about Shoko too, but they know you need them to be there and keep you grounded. They make sure to hold you extra close that night, you fall asleep in their comforting arms, hoping for the best, but the sinking feeling makes you expect the worst. 

/////////

The worst did come. At 6AM, 2 days since you last heard from Shoko, you were woken up by the loud banging on your door. 

You groggily lift up the two arms that’s trapping you in bed, then reposition their arm so your boyfriends can cuddle each other instead, you gently close the bedroom door behind you. You walk toward the front door, silently cursing whoever knocked on your door at this crack of dawn hour. When you opened the door, your heart dropped to your stomach. 

“Good morning. We recently got a missing person report on Miss Shoko from her husband. Is it okay if we come in to ask you a few questions that could be helpful toward our investigation?” One of the two police officers standing outside your door politely requested. 

“Yes…” you answer barely above a whisper, open the door wider for the officers to come in, you call out for Satoru and Suguru for them to wake up and come down to the living room. You lead the officers toward the living room and invite them to sit while you get them water and wait for your boyfriends to come down. 

You don't remember much after that. It felt as if time had stopped and the world was crumbling apart. Satoru and Suguru answer the majority of the question, you seem to only be able to answer in ‘yes’ and ‘no’ when the officers specifically address you. You were on autopilot. Your best friend, missing without a trace. Not a single hint on whether she’s dead or alive. 

You closed the door after the officers. The moment you hear the ‘click’ of the lock, your legs give out and tears begin to fall from your eyes. You sob uncontrollably, gasping for air. Your shoulders shake violently. This can’t be real. No. you refuse to believe this is reality. Shoko, the person you just talked to on the phone 2 days ago, vanished completely leaving no trace behind. 

Satoru and Suguru immediately rush to your side, they wrap their arms around you and hold you tight. They place soft kisses all over you and rub your back in a soothing motion. 

“I promise you, Sweet. I’ll make sure to find her for us, okay?” Suguru whispered. Never in a million years did Suguru think he would ever have to find his own missing friend as a detective. 

You, Satoru, and Suguru sat there, right in front of the door for hours. Just sitting in each other's embrace and comfort as you three mourn your friend, who you do not know is dead or alive. 

/////////

After crying to the point your body can no longer produce anymore tears. You get started on breakfast. Well, not you, you’re too out of it for anything, Suguru is the one cooking, you tried to set up the table but Satoru just guide you to the table and told you to not worry about it. 

With nothing to do, you decide to scroll through old messages between you and Shoko. Most of them are about how useless her husband is.

“He can’t even wash the dishes that he used! He ate from them, and then just left them in the sink!”

“This fucker think the laundry magically fold itself! Oh god I want to kill him...” this one makes you giggle a little.

“He said he’s going to work but the nurse just called me cuz they couldn’t reach him and there’s a car accident with a baby in it, where the fuck is he?”

“I just found a big purchase for an expensive bracelet, a month ago in our joint account, he said he thought I bought it. lol maybe he’s cheating on me.” This one caught your attention. It was from 3 weeks ago, you thought Shoko was just joking, you didn’t think too much of it since Shoko said it so casually, unlike the other times she vented about her husband. 

No. No. No. No. It can’t be. But the brand new tires, 4 of them, his attitude and response, this message that Shoko sent to you. God, you feel like throwing up. 

“He did it…” you breathe out

“What was that, Love?” 

“He did it! Andrew killed her! He killed Shoko!” you scream out, throwing your phone across the table so they can see the text message.

“I know he did it! All 4 of his tires are brand new and his attitude when we ask where she was and- and this text from Shoko, he killed her!” Your speech becomes frantic as you explain your reasoning. You rest your head on your hands, trying to just process it all.

Satoru’s eyes widen as they read Shoko’s text. He did it. Satoru feels his stomach sinking as he connects the dots. Everything is as you say, it all points to Shoko’s husband as the culprit. Andrew killed Shoko.

“But we have no proof, until we can find evidence or Shoko’s body, he is innocent” Suguru pointed out. Coming around to the table with the french toasts he was making for breakfast. He placed 2 on your plate. You push your plate away, not feeling like eating with everything you have to take in. Suguru grabs your hand and places a kiss on your finger to make you look at him.

“Sweet, you need to eat, at least half, you’ll only feel worse if you don’t eat. We’ll think about this some more after breakfast okay?” Suguru tries to reason with you. He understands how distress you're feeling right now. He looks over at Satoru, his boyfriend's grip on your phone is making his hand turn white.

Suguru walks over to Satoru, he wraps his arm around Satoru, hugging him tightly from behind to snap him out of it, he then takes your phone away from Satoru’s hand. “You too, ‘Toru, let’s eat first, we’ll figure out what to do after, okay?”

If you and Satoru didn’t know Suguru like part of your soul, you would mistake his calmness for indifference. But that couldn’t be farther from the truth, Suguru is like the calm before the storm, you won’t notice his anger until after it’s all said and done. 

You three eat in silence. Suguru is an amazing cook, the french toasts are far from being mediocre. Yet, none of you seem to find the appetite to eat with all the information you need to process. 

After breakfast, you tell the boys you’ll clean up and wash the dishes since they cook and set up. Though they agree to not argue with you about it, they end up helping you with washing the dishes anyway. 

“What do you want to do, Sweet?” Suguru decided to be the one to talk about the issues that have been weighing yours and their minds. 

“I’m not sure, Suguru. There is nothing I can do but hope that they'll be able to find some evidence, or at least her whereabouts.” you said softly, defeatedly. There is truly nothing you can do in this situation. 

“Alright then, I’ll ask my boss to put me on the case. Just like I promised you.” Suguru smiled at you. 

You feel a pair of arms snake around your torso. Satoru gave Suguru a peck on the lips then rested his head on your shoulder, “We’ll find her, Love. We’ll use whatever means we have and find her.”

You can’t help but smile at their words. Sometimes you ask yourself how you are so lucky to find 2 of your soulmates. You’re so incredibly lucky to be able to love and be loved by them. They make the fickleness of life much easier to navigate. Despite your storm of emotions due to Shoko’s disappearance, you find yourself still able to let go and feel grounded around them. They’re your rocks. You trust their words. You trust them.

/////////

Everything is easier said than done. It has been 6 months since Shoko’s disappearance. Suguru did become head detective of the case just like he promised, but every lead he got resulted in a deadend. At this point the case is considered cold, but Suguru refuses to let it go and continues to investigate by himself. Satoru used his company’s along with his own influence to get the case into headlines in the media, in hope that someone would be able to give Suguru more intel to work with. Satoru even hired someone to spy on Andrew and report back to him once a week. 

But with all the walls you've been facing, you’re starting to gaslight yourself into thinking that Andrew is actually innocent, and your intuition is just plain wrong. That is, until the spy on Andrew sent Satoru the weekly report while the three of you were cuddling on the couch watching Barbie. 

When Satoru’s phone rings, you don't bother pausing the movie, thinking it’s just gonna be mundane like the other reports the past 6 months. Satoru got up to grab his phone along with some water from the kitchen. His knuckles turn white when he sees what the spy sent him. 

“Suguru, Love, you guys need to see this.” Satoru calls out to you two with gritted teeth. 

You pause the movie and quickly go to the kitchen, Suguru following you.

“What’s wrong?” Suguru before you could. 

“The rat bastard actually brought home his mistress.” Satoru hands you the phone, he’s fuming now, his other hand balled up tightly. Suguru immediately notices and takes Satoru’s hand, holding onto it so Satoru won’t dig his nails into his palm and hurt himself.

You look at the pictures on Satoru’s phone. Andrew holding hands with the mistress. Them carrying boxes from his truck. Her wearing Shoko’s favorite designer dress, a silver bracelet on her left hand. They were going out for dinner. Bastards. 

You can feel your gut burn, your heart aching, and tears of anger threaten to spill from your eyes. Suguru’s face is grim, his hand squeezing Satoru just as hard as Satoru squeezing his. All the 3 of you can see is red. Boiling pit of lava in your stomachs. This nuclear waste of a human, not only killed your best friend, but brought his mistress into the house that your best friend bought, let his mistress wear your best friend’s favorite dress, and slept with his mistress in your best friend’s bed.

“I’m going to kill him.” Satoru said with conviction. 

“No.” Your tone is scarily calm, “simply killing him won’t be enough.” 

Suguru grabs your hand without letting go of Satoru’s hand, brings it to his lips and places a gentle kiss. “What are you thinking, Sweet? We’re ready to be your executioner.”

Satoru nodded in agreement. The red in their eyes can’t be missed. They’re just as furious as you are.

Looking into their resolute gazes, you pulled both Satoru and Suguru into an embrace. They return your feelings by wrapping their arms around you. You always know this, but now more than ever, you truly believe that even if the entire world were to condemn you, these two would burn the world down for you; and so would you for them.

You all know in your souls that he did it, but there are no ways for you to prove a feeling. But you can play this game he started, and you won’t give up until the day he dies. Together with your executioners, You will make the two rats pay for their action.

/////////

Good thing your boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, is filthy rich. The private spy he hired gives you a lot of information about the mistress. Her name is Maruka, she’s 10 years younger than Andrew, clearly a sugar-baby. She used to work as a cosmetologist but quitted around 3 months ago. From the words of the people that used to be in her life, her biggest love is money. They can’t fault her for it though, she was one of those orphan kids that was passed around in the foster system, she grew up with her whole life stuffed inside a single garbage bag.

You pitied her life for a bit. Thinking maybe she’s just an innocent bystander that also got rope into Andrew’s scheme. Unfortunately, giving people the benefit of the doubt hasn't been working out for you lately. 

You first interact with her at the luxury spa she often frequent after moving in with Andrew. You have the spy let you know when she’s going to the spa so you can join and strike up a friendship with her. When you spot her entering the spa’s sauna, you quickly prepare yourself while reciting the script you have in your head. 

You enter the sauna, sit directly in front of Maruka. You wait for a few minutes before striking up a conversation. 

“Hi, I’m Ina, do you go to his spa often? I haven’t seen you around before.” You lied, a fake name in case she recognizes your real one. 

“I’m Maruka, and yeah, I’m pretty new to this spa. It's been getting pretty serious between me and my boyfriend recently, I even moved in with him so I want to take care of myself for him.” she giggles. 

“Aww, that’s cute. How did you meet?” Your inquiries. 

“Oh we met at a bar, he bought me a drink and we started talking and we just hit it off, he was so charming.”

“You must be very happy then.” you give her a slight smile, “the way you talk about him, it seem like your relationship is full of sunshine and flower”

“You would think so, but unfortunately he had a wife, so we have to date in secret. But he promised me that he would divorce her for me” she laughs. That pisses you off  but you hold down your anger. 

“You said you moved in recently, did he finally divorce his wife recently?”

“Oh. My. God. That’s the best part. She disappeared! 6 months ago! She might be dead for all we know so he gets to keep the fancy house. It’s as if we’re destined to be and god was helping us out!” you squeal in excitement. 

If Suguru and Satoru were here, they would nominate you for the Oscar for how well you’re able to hold back your anger and continue to be friendly with this piece of work. This shameless woman considers someone’s misfortune as her blessing. Disgusting. 

“Wow, that’s impressively lucky, maybe you are being watched over by god.” you said in feint amazement. “We should grab lunch together, you’re fun to talk to, it'll be on me. And I’ll bring you to a nice place where we can test your blessing”

She giggled in happiness, “Sure!”.

You know she would agree as soon as you invite her, this is a luxury spa after all, only those with money and membership can enter. She won’t let go of an opportunity to form connections with someone who is wealthy enough to be in this spa.

/////////

Just as you proposed, you bring her to the most expensive restaurant in town, you have to show your wealth (by using Satoru’s card) so she would want to stick to you even closer. Afterward you bring her to Toji’s horse racing ring.

Toji used to be Shoko’s and Suguru’s smoke and drink buddy in college. He wasn’t necessarily close to your group, but you consider each other friends. So when you come asking him for a favor to avenge Shoko, along with the money to reimburse him. He told you to keep the money and to use his horse racing ring however you please. 

“Where are we?” Maruka asked in confusion. 

“A horse racing ring, owned by my friend, you should place some bet to test out your blessing.” you giggle.

“If you lose, the ring will only take half of what you bet. But if you win, you’ll win twice the amount you bet, and the ring will only take 10% of what you win. It’s a win-win scenario for everyone. People who play will gain more than they lose, and the ring gains a small revenue to keep it going.” You entice her further.

“Oh, I have never placed a bet before…” She hesitated a little, but clearly still interested.

“Here,” you hand her a slip of paper “Just write down your name, the amount you're betting, and the number on the horse you think will win, then put it in that box at the front.”

She takes the slip, she looks at it, contemplating for a moment. She then put down her name, $50, and horse number 3. She places it into the box at the front and you nod at the worker standing next to it, giving him the signal. 

“Now what?” she ask nervously

“Now we watch!”

You two sit down in one of the seats in the VIP area. You glance at her, she’s anxious, first time gamblers always feel anxious at their first bet, but this adrenaline is what keeps them hooked. You watch as the horses race each other. Number 3 won. You watch as Maruka jumps up in joy and you smile at her. 

“Would you look at that! You truly are blessed!” You feint excitement, hyping her up even more. This is the adrenaline you want her to feel, the high you want her to feel.

“Oh my gosh oh my gosh!! Ina!! I won!!” she said excitedly 

“Yes you did! You're now $90 richer.” you smile, handing her another slip of paper “Want to go again?”

She took the paper from your hand immediately without hesitation this time. She excitedly wrote down her next bet again, $200 this time. You can’t help the grin being formed on your face. You got her hook, line, and sinker.

/////////

Good thing that your other boyfriend, Getou Suguru, is a famous detective. He knows the in and out of the law well, knows what evidence is crucial and what is useless. He’s the person that composes files on Maruka and Andrew that would help with your plan. In fact, Suguru is in his office filing out the new updates and pictures Satoru’s spy sent him. 

You walk into his office to see him sitting at his desk with papers and pictures all over the table. You slide your hands on his shoulders and give him a small massage, you kiss his temple then rest your head on his shoulder. 

“I love you.” you whisper softly

“I love you too” Suguru replies, turning his head slightly to give you a quick kiss on your lips. 

You look at the pictures scattered on the table. The spy has been documenting Mamuka and Andrew’s day. Andrew’s day tends to be pretty boring now that he got what he wanted, he just went to work, went home, took Maruka out for dinner, nothing special. Maruka on the other hand, with no work to occupy and her new addiction to gambling on horse races, has been blowing through her money like water. 

You made sure that the workers at Toji’s ring would let her win frequently at first, building her confidence in her luck. Then, you make sure she’ll start to lose. Of course, she will win when the worker notices she’s getting frustrated and about to give up. To give her that high. To keep her hook. 

From what Shoko’s work friend, a nurse, at Andrew’s hospital has been telling you, he has been more and more agitated lately. Looks like Maruka’s spending habits are slowly affecting their relationship. You made sure to decline every single one of her invites to dinner with her and Andrew. You can’t risk them finding out you and Shoko’s best friend, and you as Ina are the same person.

“How is everything going on your side?” Suguru ask softly

“Oh, you know, just occasional lunch and dinner with the bitch, keep the ‘friendship’ going. The way she talks pisses me off though, she talks like a child. Sitting with her makes me miss Shoko even more. That should be Shoko’s place at the table with me, not her.” you complain with a sign, making Suguru chuckle. 

“I miss her too, Sweet” He reached his hand up to pat your head, “What about Satoru? How’s his task going?”

“Magnificent actually, this whole life insurance company plan actually brings in money for the company, so it’s like killing two birds with one stone.” Satoru chimes in from behind you two, he leans down to give both you and Suguru a soft kiss. 

“Seems like everything is going smoothly as planned then.” Suguru stands up from his chair to go to his vinyl shelf, he picks one and puts it on his new record player that you got him last Christmas. Lovers by Taylor swift come on and he reaches his hand out to both you and Satoru. 

“How about a small celebratory dance? We can go for a celebratory dinner tonight” Suguru suggested. 

You giggle and walk over to take his hand and so did Satoru. You spend the next few minutes twirling between them and watching them dance with each other. You’re genuinely happy, the happiest you have felt since Shoko’s disappearance. Revenge tastes oh so sweet, but it tastes addictingly sweet with your lovers around.

/////////

“Ugh, my boyfriend refused to give me an allowance today. Something about that he needed to save up for my ring. He’s bullshitting, I know it.” Maruka complained to you during your lunch with her. “I need money so I can win, I need to win so I can pay back my loan, this is so annoying!”

“That does sound annoying. I hate seeing you so upset like this. Is there any way I can help?” you asked in a concerned tone.

“I don’t know, Ina. I feel like the only way to solve any of my problems lately is money.” Maruka sighs. You smirk, pulling out a wad of cash from your purse.

“Here, $2000, for you.”  You hand the stack of money to her. Smiling slightly.

“Wha- why? Thank you but…” Maruka start

“Oh don’t mention it, I recently invested in this new Insurance company owned by Gojo Corp. Their life insurance policy is pretty interesting. You can file for policies under someone else's name as long as you have their paperwork such as birth certificate, citizenship, social security number, things like that” You lied with the nonchalant attitude

“I recently filed one under my boyfriend’s name after finding out he was cheating on me and planning on buying a one way ticket to disappear to Russa.” You shrug. “Good thing the insurance company reimburse you double the amount you invest for disappearance cases, something about the owner having a friend that disappeared without a trace.” 

You know it sounds too much like a lie. You know this lie sounds too good to be true. But you don’t need Maruka to believe you right now. You just need her to take the bait. After all, she ran out of money, in debt, with a gambling addiction. It shouldn’t take long for her to crawl to the insurance company from the prospect of easy money. 

“Huh, interesting. Anyway, thank you.” She take the wad of cash

“No problem, just a small gift.” you reply. You can already see the cogwheel in her head spinning.

You parted ways with Maruka after eating and returned home. You send a text to your boyfriends before submerging yourself in your hot tub, “bait placed”. You enjoy the warmth of the hot tub and the water massage from it. You reminisce about your times with Shoko. 

She would often tease you for how dense you were. “Everyone and their mother could tell that Satoru and Suguru have a thing for you, everyone but you apparently”.

Everytime you’re sad about another failed relationship, she would drag you out to go shopping or to the bar with her. Then you two would go to 3 different fast-food places, order an ungodly amount of food, and eat away your pain. 

When you told her, you think you might like Satoru and Suguru more than friends, she said “fucking finally. go tell them that, I can’t handle those two being sad little puppies every time you get into a relationship with someone else anymore.”

You were maid-of-honor at her wedding. You can still remember how she looked in her wedding dress so clearly. You two went to pick it out together. You held her hand before she walk down the aisle, “anytime during the wedding, if you don’t wanna the do this anymore, I have the car readied”

She just laughed and said, “it’s just a marriage, I can handle myself, I don’t need you to worry about me.”

You should’ve grabbed her hand and dragged her to the car. That’s your biggest regret. 

Your phone rings and snaps you out of your memory lane. A message from Satoru that said “she took the bait”. You smile at the text and step out of the hot tub. You’re thinking about making Satoru’s favorite dessert and Suguru's favorite food for dinner. Your boys have been working so hard for you. You should reward your favorite executioners tonight. 

/////////

Good thing Satoru’s dad made him get a boating license during the summer of his 15. It’s a reason you three get to enjoy the weekend on a private yacht, in the middle of the ocean. You're currently enjoying a glass of champagne with some chocolate covered strawberry, sun-bathing in the lounge chair as your boys race each other in the water. 

It's been a week since Maruka last contacted you to hangout. And according to Shoko’s nurse friend, it's been 3 days since Andrew came in for work. How interesting. Maybe you should give her a call. 

You pick up our phone and click on Maruka’s contact, it rings 3 times before she pick up. 

“Ina! Hi! What are you calling for?” She sounds panicky. She sounds like a kid doing something they shouldn’t be doing. 

“Hey, I just wanna call to check up on you, haven't heard from you in a minute. What cha up to?” 

“Oh nothing, just cooking… for my boyfriend! Yeah.”

“Oooh, what are you making?” you ask casually

“Just a beef stew, nothing special, just plain ol’ beef stew” Maruka answered rapidly, her attitude reminding you of Andrew’s attitude on the day of Shoko’s disappearance. 

“Well, I’m just checking in, I would invite you out shopping with me but I’m on vacation right now. I’ll let you know when I’m back.” 

With that, you and Maruka say bye to each other. You get up from your relaxed position and walk over to the railing on the yacht to call out to your boyfriends, who are trying to drown each other in their water splashing war.

“My loves,” You shout out to them, mischief in your voice. They stop what they were doing to look at you, enjoying the view quite a bit with the minimal amount of fabric you have on you, “it’s time for the anonymous tip and the wellness check don’t you think?”

A smirk grew on both of their faces as they swim back to the yacht to make some important phone calls. You lean on the railing to enjoy the sight of you boys. Their muscles flex in the most delicious way as they make their way through the water. 

Your eyes didn’t leave their body as they climbed back up to the yacht. You're still staring as they both grab their phone to make some phone calls. You can’t help it, the way their skin glistens in the sun due to that water. The fact that they’re half naked right now with the short they’re wearing clinging onto their skin, giving you the sight of their defined thighs. Ah… it’s not as if you have never seen them in nothing but their birthday suit before, but still… your boys are just too attractive for their own good. 

“If you stare any harder, you’ll burn a hole through us.” Satoru tease, you were too busy staring to notice he’s already finished with his phone call.

“I blame you two.” I joke, leaning into his body as he wraps his hand around you. Your smile gets wider when you feel another body pushing you closer to Satoru’s from behind. 

“Oh? Please, do tell us how it’s our fault…” Suguru whispers into your ears, he nibbles on your ears a little before looking up to kiss Satoru.

Oh… you already know you’re gonna be in heaven for the next few hours. It’s a good day today. 

/////////

Sunlight peeked through the blind of your shared room, waking you up. You look over to see Satoru and Suguru cuddling, you can’t pinpoint where one begins and where the other ends. You grab your phone to check the time, it’s 10am too early for lunch but too late for breakfast. You three just got back from your vacation in the middle of the ocean so you’re taking it slow before going back to work. 

You get out of bed to go brush your teeth and get started on making brunch for yourself and your boys. You have a feeling it’s going to be a good day today. Eggs and bacon for brunch sound oddly enticing right now. 

You take out the bacon from the fridge and place them slice by slice on a metal tray. You put them in the oven and get started on frying the eggs. Satoru likes his egg scramble, while Suguru likes sunny side up.

“Good morning” two voices greet you, not quite in sync because they’re not fully awake yet. 

“Good morning, My Loves” you greet them back, “you could’ve slept in some more.”

“Nah, you weren’t in bed with us.” Suguru replies, he walks into the kitchen to help you cook. Satoru decides to go to the Living room to turn on the TV to a news channel before going to set up the table. 

The TV in the living room drones on about the weather, politics, and current events as you guys eat. You three discuss how you are gonna spend the rest of your day as you finish up your brunch.

“Breaking news: Woman murders her boyfriend with the intention of cashing in on his life insurance policy to support her addiction.” The new anchor announces as the three of you wash the dishes and clean up the kitchen table.

“This morning, the police conducted a wellness check on Mr. Andrew, the husband of Ms. Shoko, who vanished without a trace a year ago. This check was prompted by an anonymous tip reporting his absence from work for three consecutive days, during which no one at his workplace could reach him. However, upon their arrival, law enforcement discovered only Ms. Maruka, Andrew's current girlfriend, present at the residence. Subsequent investigation of the home led to the unsettling discovery of fragments representing approximately 20% of Mr. Andrew's body, alongside three pots of meat stew. Analysis of the DNA extracted from the bones within the stew suggested the disturbing possibility that Mr. Andrew may have been used as an ingredient in this unsettling concoction.” The news anchor further elaborated on the case.

“Gross.” The three of you cringe at gruesome action.

“What was her plan with those stews? She isn’t thinking of eating it right?” Satoru commented, grimacing at the thought.

“Who knows, maybe she plans on feeding it to the stray dogs.” Suguru entertains Satoru’s thoughts. 

“Ew. Even dogs wouldn’t want to eat that human waste.” you laugh, joining their antic.

“Based on an alternative anonymous tip, it appears that Ms. Maruka might be struggling with a gambling addiction and substantial debt. Additionally, she recently acquired a substantial life insurance policy in Mr. Andrew's name just one week ago. At present, all the available evidence strongly indicates that Ms. Maruka is the primary and sole individual under suspicion in connection with Mr. Andrew's demise.” The law enforcement officer being interviewed said with conviction.

You can help the wide grind forming on your lips as you wipe the dishes dry, “I can’t wait to tell Shoko about this.”

“I can already hear how much she's gonna enjoy this.” Sugar commented, chuckling at the thought, handing you another plate he just cleaned.

“We’ll tell her about this together. All three of us” Satoru said as he leaned down to place a kiss on your shoulder. 

Yeah, the four of you will have the dinner you missed again. You, Satoru, and Suguru will tell Shoko all the mischief she missed. It won’t be now, or anytime soon. But you’ll tell her all about it, all three of you.

[snail-scholar]

TW: YAPPING

ashley being a girl is so important to me it's not even funny.

i think she has become a sort of comfort character for me. her being so wrong, so flawed, so evil gives me a sense of catharsis many other characters failed to replicate.

through her dialogue, her personality, her character... she feels like the horrors of being a woman incarnate. wether people choose to acknowledge it or not, because society expects different things from boys and girls, they're treated differently when they differ from the standards imposed on them. that's why i think ashley's impact would be very different if she were a man, hell, it would probably be a very different story, with a whole new character.

she is the one who cleans the house and cooks, despite andrew being the parentified sibling. she is the one who is insecure about her appearance and sees sex as a transaction. she is the one who has bursting, explosive emotions that tend to be dismissed. she is the one who can't help feeling competitive over other women. she is a nightmare, and instills nightmares on others, all while being our unladylike girl with awesome fat tits.

i was raised as a girl, and grew up autistic. it wasn't great. and although my past differs from ashley's, when i see her i think to myself, "she gets it."

i see a lot of trans girlies finding comfort in ashley too. bpd girlies. girls who were othered. maybe we want the sense of freedom to feel anger about past experiences. maybe she is just a healthy(?) way to deal with the inherent darkness(tm). i'm not entirely sure. but i think there are many reasons women can connect with ashley.

i mean, outside of tumblr she was hated and very few even bothered to look at things from her perspective. and maybe i am ignorant, but as far as i know, the majority of the fanbase outside tumblr is (very) normie men.

they don't even understand cannibalism!

[ninyard]

what is your most unhinged neil hc

(tw; animal cruelty)

there's a line in tkm where neil says he "hadn't progressed past cutting up hunks of dead animals" and that two of nathan's people taught him to use a knife.

i had to search for a while to find the exact quote because i thought it was "neil hadn't progressed on from just killing animals". it's only because i read it over my partner's shoulder yesterday or the day before that i even remember that line existed, and I remembered it wrong. but instead of ignoring that old oopsie daisy of my memory, i propose to you this;

when andrew suggests the idea of getting a cat, or arrives home one random day with a kitten in his arms, neil freaks out. he'd never had a pet before, or thought about having one, but for a second he's back in his childhood home and remembering those few months where his father's people handed neil a knife and curled his fingers around it like the handle in his palm was his purpose.

chunks of meat turns into dead mice and then rats, then alive squirrels or birds, but one day he's sitting with romero maybe, and he is talking neil through the best places to stab someone for them to bleed out slowly, when lola comes into the cellar with her coat wrapped around something. her smile is evil, it's disgusting, and when neil is stupid enough to ask her what she has, she laughs.

i think you're ready for it, junior, she says, with her lips curled into a grin, sharing a glance with romero as she turns to show him what she's hiding in her hands. romero matches her laugh with a pleased nod. all this practice has to mean something, doesn't it?

so she pulls this tiny animal out of her pocket, no bigger than her hand, her fingers almost making a full loop around it. when neil looks closer at the kitten, there's no way it can be older than a few days old. he tells lola hes not doing it. she tells him he has no choice. and so he has no choice.

when andrew comes into their apartment, and his hair is all soaking wet because its pouring down outside, neil doesn't see lola in the room until he hears the quiet meow of whatever andrew is keeping dry under his jacket.

neil remembers how he threw up, how he was beaten for crying, how he begged and begged not to have to do it, which just got him in even more trouble. this tiny, helpless kitten in andrew’s hands triggers him to the point where andrew finds a box to keep it in and after punching some air holes in it, he hide it away in their closet, away enough that Neil can’t hear it’s incessant meows.

neil feels awful in that moment, remembering what he did, remembering what he was forced to do. he gets over it slowly, quietly. but before that, andrew tells him in seriousness if he wants him to get rid of it he will, if neil can’t have a pet like a cat, if it’s too much of a trigger for him. neil sees how much andrew looks after the abandoned little kitten, and he can’t. he can’t tell him to get rid of it, even though every time he looks at it he’s overwhelmed by guilt and trauma enough to leave the room.

in the end, it’s ends up being really healing, neil having a relationship with that little kitten. andrew tells him he found it on the road, alone, abandoned. it would have died if he hadn’t stopped to save it. it would’ve died if neil hadn’t let it stay. it’s like a second chance for him, to show the love he can have for such an animal, to try to get over the guilt of what he did, what he can’t take back.

[bipanicoverthegravessiblings]

May I make a request? How does yandere Ashley Graves react when she finds out that her darling is getting married to someone else? Like an arranged marriage thing.

You may!

TW: Drugging, Kidnapping, Forced Kiss, Yandere themes

Yandere!Ashley Graves x Arranged Marriage Reader

It wasn’t fair

This wasn’t fair

Ashley thought arranged marriages died with the fucking bubonic plague but nooOooo!

No, no they just had to be a thing still- somehow!

And given her luck, it came for her beloved

First she screamed, then destroyed her and Andrew’s room in her frustrations, and then like most of her fits, had a huge cry within the rubble

But crying wasn’t going to get you back to her

Crying wasn’t going to kill that hussy who took you

Most people would give up, cut their losses and accept that a future with you was not possible

….but Ashley Graves was not most people

You paced around your room- well, technically it wasn’t your room- it was the hotel’s- but still your room regardless.

Your parents had chosen this place to have the wedding, the place having a vast array of rooms beyond the lobby downstairs, most ceremony halls for occasions such as this. Weddings. Your wedding.

The shockwaves hit you all at once again, making you stumble back til you were sitting on your bed. Your hands clutched the sides of your head, only semi aware to not mess up your hair. You were getting married, and to a person you barely knew. It was a struggle to write your vows for this occasion- what were you supposed to say?!

“Hey stranger, we’ve only known each other for three months and I can count the number of dates we’ve had on my hand but- I’m happy to be marrying you! Yaaayyyyyy, this totally won’t backfire!”

You managed to schlop some cheese fest of wedding vows together, best not ruin this for your future partner. Though frazzled, this probably wasn’t what they wanted either. No, this was a decision made by your parents for their benefit- not your own.

You could just walk out. Leave quietly but- no. You can’t do that. You can’t embarrass your future partner like that. They didn’t ask for this. Neither of you did.

Your wallowing was interrupted by a knock to the door, causing you to perk up and look over. The knocking continued, clearly whoever was on the other side was too impatient to wait 5 goddamn minutes. You stood up with a huff, running your hands over your face as you trudged over.

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” The knocking continued, and you almost threw it open- your glare fading as you looked at who it was.

Standing behind the door with a disheveled looking cleaning cart was one of the hotel’s maid staff. The lower half of her face was obscured by what looked like a surgeon’s mask, her black hair spilling over her shoulders as she awkwardly stood with a toilet scrubber.

“Uhh- cleaning?” She waved the scrubber a little, her voice slightly muffled by the mask.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, “I- Can this wait? I’m still kinda…in here.” You gestured to the room behind you, but the maid took that as a welcome rather than a ‘fuck off’. She pushed the cart past you, nearly running over your feet.

“Nope! Can’t wait at all! You’re the last room on my route and I want my break now!”

You watched as she began working on your room, tossing your things off of your bed without care to half hazardly fold it. With a sigh, you stood back up, checking to see if your shoes were scuffed, “Fine, whatever…I won’t be in here much longer anyways.”

You shut the door, your back to the maid as she worked away. You wanted to be alone, to have some quiet…but she didn’t exactly take the hint.

“You’re….one of the people getting married today?” She inquired, not hard to deduce given your outfit and general lack of pep in your step.

“Yup,” you grimaced, “And I’m so- happy…”

Why bother hiding your disappointment, you didn’t care anymore. You also probably would never see this woman again so who cares if you’re being depressing. Rustling behind you caused you to perk up, and you spotted a glass in the corner of your eye. You turned, outstretched to you was a glass of water.

“Here,” she offered, “Maybe a drink will help.”

You went to take it, before retracting your hand with suspicion. Where did she get that from?

Sensing your hesitance, she sighed, “Relax, it’s not dirty cleaning water or whatever- it’s one of the complimentary bottles.”

Easing your worries, you took the glass and drank. The water was lukewarm, feeling almost thick in your mouth. Warm water sucked, but it was better than nothing. She wasn’t lying, you did feel a bit better….if not tired now.

No longer fueled by dread, the stress from this situation must’ve overtaken you- leaving you drowsy and tired. You set the glass down on the nearest surface, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hands.

“Here,” the maid took your arm and led you to the bed for you to lie down on, “The ceremony’s not for a bit…how about you rest your eyes, and sleep off all this stress.”

Her voice was- comforting almost, lulling you further into sleep as your vision became blurred. Though obscured, you could see the maid looking down at you, removing her mask and brushing her hair back with her hand. Her pink eyes stared directly into yours as she smiled.

“Don’t worry…this’ll all be over soon..”

You don’t know when you came to, but when you did- everything felt worse

Your head hurt, your body hurt- almost like you had been folded in half for a long period of time- your clothes were a mess, and to top it all off

You were on longer in your hotel room

No, no you found yourself in a completely new room- one different to you

You were slouched on what looked to be a bathroom- laundry room combination. In front of you was a shower head with a few products in the small basket suctioned to the grimy wall. Slightly obscured by the wall next to you was a sink with a hose shoved into it, which went beyond your vision allowed you to see.

Looking beside you was a toilet, which you were handcuffed to

Your cuffs jingled as you yanked your hand, attempting to either break the handcuffs or the pipe you were cuffed to. It was rather futile though, as you were still tired from having just woken up.

“Oh, good, you’re awake!”

In a rather cheery tone, you spotted someone walk out from behind the wall- a cheerful smile on her face. The maid from the hotel…except- this wasn’t just a maid…

“Ashley?….” You narrowed your eyes to get a better look.

“Bingo baby!” She shot you a finger gun, crossing closer to your slouched body and kneeling down, “Happy to see me beloved? I’m happy to see youuuu.” She booped your nose, to which you flinched at in response, “You have no idea how much of a pain it was to drag you all the way here.”

You had- so many questions, none of which you could coherently sort through before shouting out, “My wedding!”

“Oh? That,” Ashley glared to the side, “Don’t worry about that silly thing. You didn’t want to get married anyway, you told me yourself.”

She had you there- but you still weren’t too keen on being kidnapped!

“How-“ you shook your head to collect your thoughts, “How long was I out?"

"The dose I gave you shouldn’t have knocked you out for long- I’d sayyyyyyyy, you’d been out for about 24 hours at least.”

24 hours. Oh god.

Your eyes widened as all of this hit you, you- you had to get out of here! Your hand yanked at the cuff, to which Ashley promptly grabbed. Her nails dug into your skin, making you wince.

“Fucking chill okay!” She snapped, “Look- don’t even try getting out. This- this is for your own good.”

She relented her grip, moving her hand from your wrist to interlock her hand with yours. She shifted her stance, now overtop of you. You moved your head back to keep your distance from her lips as they got closer, though the wall behind you limited your escape.

“Relax sweetheart..” she ran her hand down your chest, her eyes as lulling as ever, “You didn’t want to marry that hussy anyways, so why are you fighting this?” Her lips just barely ghosted above your own, “Maybe now….you can marry someone you actually want to? How’s that sound?”

Before you could give your objection to this ceremony, Ashley silence with a kiss. Your protests muffled against her lips, and the wall preventing you from pulling away.

The kiss felt like an eternity, the jingling cuffs eventually stopping and your protests dying down as you relented and returned the kiss. Her lips felt soft, but her teeth were sharp- practically cutting your lip.

She pulled away, a wide grin planted firmly on her face while you remained dazed and confused.

“You may now kiss the bride!” She giggled dopily, pressing her forehead against your own. In unholy matrimony.

[aceof-stars]

(tw: mention of suicide) Did we, as a fandom, just collectively forget how ruthless Miles Edgeworth can be sometimes? And I’m not just talking about his demon prosecutor era, I mean also after his redemption arc. Because I was just playing through Farewell My Turnabout and watching him reveal Adrian Andrews attempted suicide in court after she begged both him and Phoenix not to… I was sitting there with my mouth open thinking: damn Edgeworth, was that really necessary??

And you know what, I love it. I love how he was ruthless in getting a guilty verdict in the past, and now he uses that ruthlessness to find the truth. Because I'm not just here for the traumatized, socially awkward, emotionally constipated, caring Edgeworth. I'm also here for the ruthless, intimidating, competent, morally grey Edgeworth. I'm not here for a watered-down version of Edgeworth. He wouldn't be my favorite character if he didn't have this nuance.

[denizenhardwick]

trk ch 11 is such a brilliant chapter on so many levels. here is an in-depth analysis.

tw rape

the chapter starts with kevin buying neil a heavy racquet. we learn that heavies are popular with defense, that riko uses one, and that goalie racquets are even heavier. this is setup for both later in the chapter and the end of the third book.

neil and andrew's conversation in the store is absolutely loaded. it also has neil seriously questioning the narrative about andrew that we have been uncritically fed by literally everyone for two books at this point, that he's violent and dangerous to others. he has noticed the way no one really treats andrew like a full person, how they're always more concerned by protecting other people from him than any danger he might be in, and he's frustrated by it.

this is massively, MASSIVELY important. neil came into the story with the same view of andrew that everyone else has and therefore that view has been largely treated as fact by the narrative; neil has realized it might not be true at this point, enough for the readers to know, but he hasn't fully let go of the notion of andrew as the aggressor. keep that in mind.

there's also this bit. which they decide could mean nothing but is important to their whole Thing.

when they get to nicky's parents' house, neil tries to leave the racquet in the car, but andrew grabs it, saying he's going to vandalize luther's car with it. he lets nicky take it, nicky hands to back to neil, and neil brings it into the house.

at this point, the tension is palpable. andrew and aaron are standing side-by-side for the first time. neil, kevin, and the audience are all outsiders, and there's a lot of weight to this dinner. we have nicky's story, that's our main context, and he's talked about aaron as well, but andrew is still a complete enigma. we largely know about him from what other people have said, his behavior seems nonsensical and erratic, and he's made no attempt to share his side of the story, presumably because he doesn't care enough.

that's the perception of andrew that's been built over the past book and a half. andrew is the aggressor. he is violent, dangerous to others, and completely apathetic to pretty much everything. he doesn't care.

the interactions with nicky's parents are uncomfortable on every front, but there's also another level of strangeness that neil picks up on but can't understand because of lack of context:

luther is not interested in reconciling with nicky. he's more interested in andrew.

and then they sit down for dinner. the hemmicks each take one end, and there are three chairs on each side: nicky takes the middle on one side, with aaron sitting next to him as a buffer between him and his mom, and neil and kevin take the other side with andrew between them. neil comments in the narration that they do this to keep an eye on andrew. what is a defensive, protected position for nicky is used to keep andrew constrained.

andrew is the threat here. he's the aggressor.

they talk, the conversation goes sideways, aaron steps up to ask neutral questions until nicky calms down, and then andrew leaves the table.

neil values nicky's conversion with his mom, thinks it's important but doesn't personally care about it so we the audience don't get to read it. which is absolutely baffling the first time you read this, because this chapter is supposed to be about nicky. it's about his attempt to reconcile with his mom! right? right???

it's not. and the chapter is starting to show its hand and cue you into that. because neil is thinking about andrew. he accepts but doesn't care about nicky's reconciliation; he is deeply invested in whatever andrew is talking about with luther and is already thinking about how he can get andrew to tell him later since the eavesdropping isn't working. but also, look at how neil is thinking about andrew here.

"if luther screamed in pain they'd hear it no matter how loud nicky and maria were."

he is still thinking of andrew as the threat! he is worried that andrew might hurt luther! this is such aggressive framing with a book and a half to back it up and only a couple passages of doubt. andrew is the aggressor.

after a while, neil gets concerned that andrew is making good on his threat earlier to destroy luther's car, but his racquet hasn't been moved and andrew is nowhere to be found. maria says that he's speaking to drake, and luther reveals that this whole dinner was set up by drake.

neil puts the pieces together immediately and launches into action with an almost mindless efficiency. and then the narrative shifts, just a bit.

"either drake was dead or andrew was in serious trouble."

he grabs aaron (literally grabs him, and picks aaron solely because he was closer to neil than kevin was), grabs his racquet, and books it up the stairs. he doesn't tell us what he's thinking, he doesn't have time. his singular mission right now is to make sure andrew is okay, because while it does occur to him that drake might be dead he sure as hell isn't planning on using the racquet against andrew.

i love this section a lot. this is neil in his element, completely focused and streamlined. he identifies what kind of wood the door is made of on sight and doesn't elaborate; presumably, because this is something he's done many, many times in his life. he also instinctively calls what he sees a "fight" before he actually processes what he's seeing, because that's what he was expecting, that's what he has experience with.

he was expecting mafia. we were all expecting mafia. the book is about to talk about sexual abuse in the foster system.

it's shocking. there's no way you could have seen this coming and, as is the style of these books, it just throws you in the deep end and keeps going.

this scene is extremely hard to read, because of the content and because of the way the prose changes because of it. neil has a very unique narrative voice. he's very to-the-point, he doesn't use figurative language very often, he hones in on what he finds important to the exclusion of everything else.

this is remarkably vivid sensory detail for neil. the image is burned into his head, everything slows down, he's possibly going into shock. he describes what he's seeing. he notes every little noise and speculates on what it is. and the words he uses are visceral and uncomfortable.

the heavy length of his body. ear-deep in a blood-splattered pillow. ghostly white and bloodless. a wet crunch. blood sloshed against the wall. a meaty thud.

neil does not describe anything in this much detail. that juxtaposition makes what is already a very graphic and disturbing scene even more jarring and impactful for the audience.

he also describes what he is hearing as "[his] world crashing down around him" or saying it "had the entire world tilting underneath his feet."

we hear kevin's reaction, neil walks through the whole thing without even turning to look because he is intently focused on pulling the sheet up to cover andrew because it's important to him to give andrew as much privacy as he can, even if it isn't much.

with that, i have reached my image limit, so stay tuned for part 2.