#two of their conversations are 'have you fucked spirits' and 'are you single' as well. by the way.

[cat-dragron]

I'm still so mad that August Kitko was such a mid book and like I would go do far as to say maybe it was bad but it's likely it just wasn't for me.

And then I read Hell Followed With Us and realize hey now... there's a lot of similarities between these two books and wow i am enjoying this other book way more. I almost want to dig into that and figure out why. Can you ever dislike something so much you want to take a scalpel to it and dissect it to find the bloody heart? Yeah that's what I'm feeling with August Kitko... it kinda sucks but I need to know why it makes me so mad.

[tortoise-teapot]

only the enlightened can see blackwall/solas

[toji-bunny-girl]

You don't go to the library to study. You go there to have your cunt stuffed, by nonother than librarian!Gojo.

He works there 5 days a week, and you made sure to be there by your corner every single one of those days, carefully staring at him through the side of your book. Of course, he's well aware of your interest in him. You're so preoccupied with him you don't even realise you're holding the book upside down.

He doesn't realise it yet but he's slow to share the same amount of attraction to you as you are to him. He'd note the way your eyebrows would adorably scrunch together when you're actually doing your assignment for once, and you'd collapse face down onto the table when the frustration and exhaustion caught up to you. Or how your favourite colour seemed to be pink, your stationery and laptop covered in different shades of the colour.

He's used to your presence by now, having spent the last couple of weeks observing you just as you stalked him through the library. And truth to be told, he actually enjoyed it—he's got a cutie following behind him, too shy to strike up a conversation with him and too dumb to hide your little crush any better.

You quickly became the only part of his job he would look forward to, questioning what kind of crap you were going to pull up to just right before his shift. Until you're gone all of a sudden.

Maybe you were just late, he thought on the first day of your absence. Or maybe you're sick by the second day. Perhaps you're just busy with school…or maybe some another guy—

Why does he even care in the first place? You're just some stalker with a pretty face, nothing special out of the sea of girls in his DMs. Gojo doesn't like how he's fretting over a girl who he hasn't talked to before, your presence doesn't control how his day goes anyway.

Until it does.

It exasperated him by how he allowed himself to be subjugated under you. He can't focus on his seminars when the voices in his head wonder about you louder than the lecturer's, he can't flirt with the chicks on campus without thinking about that fangirl from the library and he can't sleep if his head is filled with the images of you with another guy.

What kind of spell have you managed to put him under?

He was completely and utterly chafed by the next week when he entered his shift, a frown seemingly marked permanently upon his face as he went through his chores, putting away the books back to their categorised shelves. That was until he heard a familiar pit-pats of your shoes, and saw your figure stupidly hiding behind a bookshelf from the side of his eye.

His playful spirit returned when he noted your presence, and he wandered further into the library, where no one could see the two of you. As expected, you shuffled along his steps before slipping yourself into the aisle behind him, pretending to flick through the choices of books on display.

Those were Chinese novels, and you majored in Biochemistry. Idiot, he thought with an internal chuckle.

Unbeknownst to you, he had strolled to your back, waiting for you to turn to face him. Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when you found him standing right in front of you, and you froze then and there like a deer in the headlights.

"I know you've been stalking me around here," he had a shit-eating smirk on his face as his arms rested by your sides to trap you in between them. "Freak," he whispered next to your ears, sending a tingle through your nerves.

"I-I, ah—" you stammered, trying to collect your words to sound coherent. Your face was flushed bloody red with embarrassment, and Gojo was sure he'd burn himself if he were to touch you.

"But that's okay…" he drawled. "I won't spread the word if you listen to me."

Your eyes were wide, gaping at him through your lashes as you nodded.

Fuck, were you adorable.

"You like me, huh?"

"Uhm…I, uh…"

"Hm?"

"Y-Yes," you blurted with your eyes squeezed shut, too embarrassed. Your breath was hot, and they scorched his cheeks red upon your words.

"What do you like about me?" oh god does he love teasing the hell out of you.

"Your f-face…"

"My face?" he feigned dumb. Of course, he's well aware that girls would only come chasing after his looks. But he absolutely enjoyed torturing you with his stupid questions. "Which part of my face?"

"Huh…?" your eyes were spinning, your hands raising to push his frame a little away for your comfort.

"My eyes? My nose?" his bigger hand captured the two of yours into his grasp, his fingers were icy cold against yours, and his face neared yours once again, merely a breath away. "Or my lips?"

You didn't dare to answer, the sound of your throat gulping filled the air as a few stray hairs of his tickled your cheek. His eyes peered towards yours, catching your gaze that fell upon his lips.

"There, huh?" Gojo's smirk widened, his grip on your wrists tightening a fraction. "Wanna try them?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words left your trembling lips, except for a silent gasp. He took the shift of your feature as a sign for him to advance onto you, his lips gently sucked on your soft flesh, the tiniest amount of your saliva flowed onto his tongue and they tasted better than the finest honey.

A string of your mixed essence connected his lips to yours, red and swollen as a sign of his kiss, when he pulled away. Your knees weakened in enfeeblement, and Gojo caught you before you could fall to the ground.

"You're done?" his arms are strong, and you could feel his muscles flex under your hand when you gathered your strength to stabilise on your feet. "I'm not."

His touches slowly trailed down from your arm to your hips, and you subconsciously rubbed your thighs together when his gaze fell onto them. In his eyes you could see a growing hunger that lurked beneath his bright blue eyes, it was the darker gradient that hung low in his orbs.

"Do you touch yourself here when you think of me?" your teeth sank into the flesh of your bottom lip and your eyes peered down to between your skirt, where his hand was as you vaguely nodded; hoping that he didn't see the faint motion of your head.

How wouldn't he know when all his attention is on you? His eyes scanned the faint shifts in your features when he pressed against your heat, making sure there wasn't any hint of dissent to his touch—and mostly searching for the muted salacity behind your pretty eyes.

"Sometimes…" your voice was meek, but it was audible enough for his ear to twitch at your words. His chest almost burst to your confession, and the images of your features twisting into lewd faces flashed past his mind, calling out his name with that sweet voice of yours.

A soft moan left your lips when his fingers slipped past your pink panty, drawing slow circles upon your clit. Your hips bucked as he teased, his other hand coming down to palm your ass.

"What about I make you feel good?" he gently asked, and you drunkenly nodded to your pleasure. His thumb grew charge of teasing your hardening bud, his two long fingers dipped into your already-slick cavern, reaching the sensitive parts of your inside.

Your lips tensed into a line to quell the moans that drew from your itching tummy, and your hands rested on Gojo's chest, gripping onto his shirt for support.

His fingers grew greedy for more of your whimpers, stroking past your walls, searching for the velvety spot in you. You threw your head back when he found the part he was looking for, pumping out and into the spongey surface, stimulating your nerves to their limit.

Your eyebrows furrowed and your eyelids flew shut when he expedited the speed of his slick-coated digits, his arm growing slightly sore as he carried you to the height of your orgasm. His cock twitched when you drew out a cry of pleasure, your breath stuck in your throat as your mind went blank from your high.

Your grip on his clothes loosened, and you panted as you rest your weight against the shelves, Gojo's damp fingers evident of the pleasure he delivered to you. He watched as you collected your remaining breath, your cheeks flushed pink in arousal and your eyesight slowly blinked clear.

A bolt flash of surprise ran through his eyes when you carefully pulled his pants down, gripping his hardened girth with your warm hands. Gojo stopped you with a grab of your wrist, your whole body tensing in creeping embarrassment—he doesn't like it when you touch him?

Your thoughts flew out the window when he spat onto your palm, before guiding your hand back to his throbbing cock. Your mind grew blank as you began fisting his length, his breath hitching when you rubbed over his pinkish-red tip.

Your touches were filled with careful inexperience, and Gojo found it absolutely fucking adorable. The soft squelching of his saliva in your hand as you pumped his cock filled the air, and he inched closer to kiss you once again.

His groans flowed into your mouth as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, drinking in the taste of you as you pleased him. You seemed to be a quick learner on your own, pumping his pulsing cock faster, gripping onto him tighter, and rubbing his sensitive tip of all.

His hips stuttered along with the movements of your hand, a sign of his close release and you were clearly relentless to please him. Your pace doesn't falter, but fastened instead and his moans muffled through your sloppy kiss, your mixed drool dripping down your chin and onto your chest.

"Fuck," his voice cracked as his cock twitched, before ejaculating his hot semen onto your clothes, slowly dripping down to your thigh. Your breaths mingled in the sultry air, the smell of your essences filled your nostrils as the both of you cooled from the aftermath of your highs.

You recognised the dirty smirk on his face when you flicked your gaze up at him, and you sank into the bookshelf in preparation for what he had conjured up in his mind.

"The library closes in 30 minutes, we'll get the whole place to ourselves by then."

[appleblueberry-pie]

Yandere GF Yuki +Yandere JJK Harem

A/N: Please just read these first few sentences if this is too long for you. I intended for Yuki and reader to have some sort of dom x sub relationship. Like it runs in her blood to be at least slightly masc. I've been fantasizing about this idea for much longer than I realize. But being able to do this with a literal bad bitch at the top of the OP podium is a dream come true and a treasure. Like I don't think you guys understand, I seriously think Yuki is for the girlies. I see so much queer potential in her, it's not even a joke(hence, the photo). The Yandere Harem includes briefly mentioned Platonic Yanderes(Yuji and Nobara) and more in depth juggling of the mentions of the Romantic Yanderes(Yuki being the main, and the rest taking whatever crumbs they can take. So, Shoko, Gojo, and Nanami). I feel like this isn't going to be organized whatsoever because I usually just write whatever with no kind of order, soooo......idk.

Yuki was all you needed in a person, in your opinion. No one knew you better besides her. You knew her and she knew you. If you could, you'd stay in her arms until your muscles hurt from staying in the same position for so long, and maybe then, you'll be molded together for eternity. That's how much you love her. But of course, her infatuation with you is so much more than a slight obsession for the one you are closely connected to. Everyday when she sees you, she feels both of your spirits connecting. When you two approach each other from different sides of a room, both of your cursed energy seem to blend together like food scents combining to make one sweet aroma. Two separate things colliding so well together.

She can't even fathom the idea of you not being hers. She can't think of a moment where you'd ever leave her either. Her confidence in your devotion and love towards her continues to sooth her mind and body. And she wishes it was just the two of you on this planet, but of course, people try to break you two apart every day. She tries not to mind it, knowing how to handle these types of situations and knowing you know how to hold your own as well. But it seems like everyone loves to test her patience.

Speaking of patience, everyone can tell Gojo was quickly running out of patience that somehow still remained in his body. You two have been together for four years, why haven't you broken up yet?! Not a single one of his relationships lasted this long. Ever. But you two continue to stare at each other as if the other created the sky and water. It's supposed to be you and him doing that. Not you and her. It's not fair and he was getting mad again just staring at the two of you. He tried everything. He tried to give his best flirts with you, tried to get you alone, which worked a few times, but you stayed strong and continually told him no. Fuck, he even fought Yuki. But you found the two of them battling to the death and he'd seen you so angry, he had to step back. The way you stared at him is a face he never wanted directed at him ever again, so he stopped trying to intervene. Only sticking to the waiting game, and it was taking too long.

Nanami was better at waiting. He was better at staying in his place, staying quiet, acting innocent and holding up face. But even he wanted to step out of line to see what it takes to get you to pay attention to him. To get you into his arms. He used to bring the two of you coffee every morning when you showed up at work together, struck conversation with the both of you, spoke with Yuki more than he did with you to try and steer away possibilities that he was trying to get at you. He thought he was good at what he did. It shook him to his core, disturbed him, when he was pulled into a dark room by you-know-who and was asked of his real intentions. "What? Did you want a threesome? Trying to break us up?" She taunted him, telling him he was just like Gojo, trying everything in his power just to get at her girlfriend. Told him it was obvious when he stared from across the room, crossing his legs to hide his boner like a teenage boy. She laughed in his face and cornered him into a wall, threatening to tear out his jugular. "She likes you more than the other rats scattering around us." But he knew better than to assume that would ever be a green light to continue with his tricks. She told him to keep silent like he usually is, and he won't lose the only life he has. He gave up.

Yuki and Ieri formed an alliance. If she keeps an eye out to protect you from the horndogs that constantly surround you, she can talk with you as much as she desires(as much as Yuki allows her to). But in your eyes, Shoko is a weird case. Because you see her more than you do the rest of the men at Jujutsu Tech. And even though Yuki always tells you to watch out for Shoko, she only lets you freely hang around her more than everyone else. You assumed they spoke of something alone because Yuki almost always pulls her away to have a secret conversation about something you can't ever think up an answer for. Shoko was great to you though. Always gave you snacks, was hilarious and knew how to make you laugh. She never smoked around you, saying she doesn't want you to breathe in the flames. And not only that, she flirts with you constantly. But Yuki never seems to care much when it happens. Maybe they became friends not too long ago...? You can't put your finger on it.

It doesn't help that she likes to show you off. It really doesn't help. Often, everyone follows the both of you to get a chance to talk to you. But when she's right there as your guard dog, it brings their chances back down to a zero. And they would just push her away and bribe someone to just throw her in the ditch, but Yuki isn't just a regular shmegular person to fuck around with. She is, in fact, a special grade sorcerer who would fold a good 85% of the sorcerers in her area if she were pushed to do so. So, you are just a beauty to see from afar.

Complimenting your cute outfit before the two of you go somewhere in town, making you spin, squeezing your ass and making you laugh. Kissing your sweet lips and being able to breathe in your scent. They see it all and can't help but fucking fume at not being able to have you. They probably won't ever have you.

Yuki also wishes you'd stop talking to the brats that constantly berate you. Nobara and Yuji are constantly in your space like little puppies excited to see their owner after a long day. Nobara will whine excessively if you are about to be pulled away, or is pulled away. You love to give her hugs and even little gifts that you know she's wanted for a long time. Yuuji consumes every snack you give him in exactly one second, and you tell him every time to please chew it slowly(he never does). He has such convincing puppy eyes and requires you to stay with him for an extra three minutes, which for each minute, Yuki plans to threaten him to leave you alone(they almost fight every time). You treat those two as if they were your children and people can't help but feel extremely jealous every time. Of course you give the younger ones affection, of course they get your snacks, attention and loving. And of course they get the OK to do it because they're young. It makes everyone else sick to their stomach with anger.

Her biggest concern right now is you're telling her about your new friend you've made(that she can't find and stalk for some reason). You say he has long and healthy hair, is very sweet to you and you two talk about religion all of the time and that he has very interesting "political" views. She knows he's a sorcerer because she can smell it on you every time you come back from an outing alone. She knows that this asshole wants you and makes it known by bringing you back to her smelling completely different and she can see his lingering energy surrounding you. It pisses her off. She's definitely gonna have to do something about it.

Anyways. Yuki has it best, obviously. Her only goal is to get you out of sorcery and to just become hers full-time. Not like you need anything else to worry about besides her. I mean, she could just provide for you entirely. She tells you every day that you're lucky that she doesn't have a real dick, because things would definitely be different if so. It makes you squirm happily and she loves teasing you about it every time with her wolfish grin. She knows she'd get some soon if she says it with that playful and hungry tone you love.

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭— 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐅𝐅

Note: Check Description and other chapters first to understand the story ^^♡

Chapter 8

WARNING!!!🔞 This Chapter contains SMUT: Unprotected sex, oral (f.recieving), morning sex, mention of kink and size (I think it's that?), strong language, pet names, multiple orgasms.

Minors do not interact!!!

Bang Chan

The day I met Aria when my father introduced us to eachother a week before our wedding, some instinct told me she will be the death of me.

And I was right.

With those soft curls, brown eyes, that small beauty mark on her chin which was unwantedly attractive to my eyes, she is going to be why I'll lose every sense of control I've had of myself.

Every part of me wanted to have her last night, to make feel like she is the one and every part of her drove me crazy. Because my mind was tipsy, I wouldn't have been able to worship her the way she deserved. But one day, which isn't so far, I will have her.

It's obvious Aria desires me the same way I do, but fuck, my mind is never straight when I'm around her. Maybe Hyunjin was right. I should try talking to her sober. Instead of like a fucking alcoholic.

Never in the 26 years of my life was I ever attracted to woman the way I was attracted to Aria. She held something, a magnetic pull in her voice and in every single thing about her. A part of me wants to get lost in my world with her, forgetting about any deadline of us.

I woke up before an hour before sunrise, sitting in front of my laptop, I worked until I heard the birds chirping outside my window. Which I think was the first time I ever heard them since I moved into the mansion last year.

I usually either wake up late or don't sleep at all, depending on what I do the night before but ever since my father brought up about the marriage topic and I got married to Aria, my mind has been focusing a lot on work than anything I used to do when I was in Europe.

I was never a workaholic back then, not even when I first got the COO position, I don't know what fucking alien took over my body.

"Once you bring her home, you will understand that life is more than just partying Christopher"

My father's words replayed in my head again, echoing through the morning silence. He was right, as much as I hate to admit it.

My mind drifted back to the day of our wedding. Despite the conversation about the agreement the two of us had the night before, Aria's face was swelled with happiness on the wedding day, a smile I remember like it's a photographic memory. It's now that I'm realizing, that the smile was masking the uncertainty she must have felt.

Maybe this new focus. This relentless drive to work, was a distraction from her, my way of providing for her, of ensuring that our future was secure, well, at least for a year. But still, the change was startling.

Back in Europe, my nights were filled with laughter, music, and the constant thrill of the unknown. My friends used to joke that I would never settle down, that I was a free spirit, untethered and wild.

Yet here I was, grounded and, dare I say it, domesticated.

I looked up at my calendar on my phone, I didn't have any plans today neither was I in the mood to go to the office after finishing half of the work at home itself, I thought to check up on Aria and see if she had any plans. I quickly freshened up, ruffling my hair, I left my room and walked to hers at the other end of the corridor.

Once I reached the door to her room, hesitation crawled but like Bin said,

"If you want to make it through the next 300 whatever days without losing your fucking mind, maybe try talking to her. Really talking."

I had lock my ego up in a cage and properly communicate with her.

As I was about to knock on the door, it swung open revealing a cutely sleep-rumpled Aria, tousled but fixed hair and pillow crease on her face.

It looked like was expecting me to be at work, she instantly covered her chest, seeing the view in front of her.

She was wearing just a silk camisole and boyshorts, that gave me a view of too much of her flawless skin. The top did barely to cover those sweet, peeking nipples.

My jaw tightened at the sight at the same time sending an electrifying shock straight to my cock. Was she roaming the mansion like this when I was at work?! Almost half-naked while my staff was around?

"Chris, oh my— what are you doing here?" She stammered, her hand over her chest and eyes wide with surprise. They fell on my bare torso first and then met my face earning sly smirk from me.

"I...um. I just thought to— check up on you—"

Fuck.

The words kept coming out of my mouth before I could process them in my brain but I managed to keep my gaze fixed on her face.

Aria's eyebrows drew together, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine." I replied quickly, cursing at myself that this was again, a bad idea.

She blinked, clearly taken aback. "I thought you were supposed to be at work." Her voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Took the day off," I said rubbing the back of my neck and sliding my other hand in the pocket of my shorts.

"I just," I swallowed, "I wanted to see you" I finally admitted.

"Oh," She was unaware of what to say next and so was I. The moment seemed to stretch like an eternity and I fucking hated it.

"Alright then," I turned to walk downstairs but her soft hand held my wrist stopping me. "Chris wait," Her brown eyes locked with mine, steady breathing but I knew she still felt slightly intimidated by me.

For a moment the two of us stood still without a movement. The next, before either of us could say anything, I cupped her face and crushed my lips against hers.

Roughly. Possessively.

She pulled me inside her room, her fingers pressing on my arms then sliding up my neck, I kicked the door shut behind me, fisting her hair and not breaking the kiss as we fell onto her bed.

My tongue stroked the seam of her lips, I grunted, tilting her neck, demanding entrance, this time not letting any damn thing interrupt what I was going to do.

No contract. No deadline. Just her. Just us.

Her hands sank into my hair as my palm swept beneath her little silk top. We kissed like we needed eachother before the world ended.

Frantic. Hungry. Desperate. But I couldn't get enough. I needed more of this. More of her.

I broke the kiss as I trailed my path down her neck, sucking on her sweet skin, leaving my marks and making her mine. Only mine. I didn't give a fuck about anything else at this moment other than her.

"Chris..." The sound of my name as she whimpered when I cupped her breast beneath the top sent another jolt of electricity straight down to my cock, it throbbed behind the barriers of my shorts.

"That's it sweetheart. After today my name shall be the only thing you remember" I said as I slid her top off and shorts down with little effort, leaving her completely naked and bare beneath me, it was the sight of a lifetime.

Flawless skin, breasts the right size to knead and suck on, perfect little waist, I eyed her body capturing every single detail like a wanderer discovering a hidden paradise.

I leaned low and kept my mouth around her nipple, sucking the sensitive tip and rolled the other with my index and thumb, earning another whimper of my name.

"You're such a good girl"

Neck. Arms. Breasts. Every part of her had a pleasing marks of hickeys, I was eager to map every inch of her heavenly body with my hands and my mouth as I made my way down kissing the valley of her stomach to her pubic bone.

Her soft skin was hot as she trembled when I got closer to her pussy, the scent of her arousal and the glazed sight in front of me felt like snorting a line of pure cocaine. I softly placed a kitten kiss on the awaiting clit, goosebumps pebbling her skin as I stroked her thighs.

"Chris, God Chris, please"

"Please what sweetheart?" I taunted.

"Are you that excited to have my mouth on your sweet cunt and eat you out?" I cooed. She looked up at me and her head fell back on the pillow when I licked her slit.

"Tell me babydoll"

Aria's breathing increased as her hand fisted my hair so hard, the tiny ache just turned me on more.

"Yes," The word left her mouth in a plea mixed with a demand. "Please Chris"

The next second my face was buried in the wet heat between her legs.

Her back arched instantly as her juices coated my tongue, I delved on her clit like a man starving to death. Sucking and devouring her cries of pleasure as my eyes rolled to the back of my head.

Where I thought her presence drove me insane along with whiskey that had me tipsy, Aria's moans and her taste down here were fucking intoxicating. My cock twitched, matching the rhythm of my pulse, begging for me to dive into her.

Aria bucked her hips, pleading to stop, but her body begged to keep going, moan after moan escaping from her throat. Slow licks and flicks, I focused on her dripping cunt, a twelve course meal I'd enjoy for the rest of my life.

"No...please...I...more..." Aria pleaded and begged, coating my face by every passing second. I wanted all of this inked on my brain.

Her back arched as I continued to feast on her sweet little pussy. I sucked on her clit and pushed a finger stretching her lips, then another, pumping in and out, her knuckles turned white as she grabbed on to the sheets for dear life.

Forget coffee, water or a great buffet for breakfast, she tasted so much fucking better.

I groaned, sweat beading my forehead as I pulled my fingers out and I rested her legs on my shoulders, fiercly holding on her thighs, letting my tongue thrust inside of her. The taste of her made me want to do nothing but stay here and let this morning last forever.

My nose kept nudging on her clit as I ruthlessly tongue fucked her, eating her out, that tore sharp cry after cry. After feasting on her cunt, Aria came down shuddering, her orgasm flooding my senses and my face as I was sent to the ends of insanity.

"Want me to stop sweetheart?" I towered her, wiping my chin with back of my hand, her taste still lingering on my tongue. I placed my hand next to her on the pillow holding me up, the other hand pinched her nipple and then went down circling that swollen nub.

I knew she wanted more. But I loved hearing it. Making her beg.

Aria shook her head whimpering, her face was tinted pink as her cheeks were flushed with arousal, my mind clouded with lust. My cock was so hard it threatened to pierce through my shorts.

"You have to tell me babydoll."

"Don't stop Chris, please"

Nothing turns me on more than the sound her sweet voice pleading me. I freed myself from the fabrics of my shorts and boxers, they joined her clothes on the floor. Her chest was still heaving from the aftermath of her first orgasm. Oh baby she's going to come more than once.

"You will come for me again okay?" My voice remained rough even though I tried to soften, I traced her pussy with the pad of my thumb and sank two fingers again to find her still soaking.

So wet. So fucking gorgeous.

Her eyes fell on my coated fingers as I pulled them out and licked the glistening pleasure, then at my cock jutting out, long and painfully hard, when she slowly got from up her high.

I leaned down to her ear, "I'm going to make you feel really good baby"

I spread her legs further apart and positioned myself in between, grazing the tip in the inner thigh and the folds of her opening, teasing her a bit more.

"Christopher,"

Never has my name sounded this good when someone said it. I felt a different sense of pride and possessiveness when it came out of her mouth. In that voice.

The tip was still slowly grazing her opening, she was so wet, it kept slipping. I was testing my own patience along with hers, without another thought I gripped her waist, Aria's head fell back on the pillows the second I thrusted through her wet entrance smoothly.

Her legs instantly wrapped around my hips locking me into place, it was now I knew I have found my heaven on earth.

"Too— big...ah" I couldn't help but chuckle at the way she moaned and commented about my size.

"But you take it so well baby" I teased.

A muffled moan.

I stayed in place for a few seconds, letting her adjust to my length and slowly pulled out and then slammed back in.

Starting slowly and easy first, then I picked up a hard and fast pace, pounding into her, each thrust making her breasts bounce. Sweat slicked her body, her eyes and mouth were half shut as she kept moaning, it was the sweetest sound to my ears.

Christ. I've never had a kink for breasts but her tits alone were enough to drive me mad. And this sweet tight little pussy that took in my cock like she was fucking made for it.

Nails grooved scars on my back and my arms, the piercing sting felt good more than pain. She was so tight, her walls clenched nicely around my cock, it drove me out of my mind.

I slowly leaned to her face and kissed away the tears that had run down her cheeks, Aria slowly peeled her eyes open as she looked at me, they were fogged with intense pleasure and unshed tears glittering like a sparkling galaxy.

She looked at me in a way no one ever has, it fucking hurt like a punch to the soul, leaving me breathless and reeling. My mouth crashed onto hers desperately, a tidal wave possessiveness washing over me frantically.

"Mmm" She hummed into my mouth, I chuckled swiping a strand of hair from her face.

"What do you want sweetheart?"

"More— more" And that undid me.

Her pussy squeezed my cock as I fucked her harder and faster, watching her back arch and bouncing breasts, the dirtiest symphonies of moans filling the room. Seeing her take in my cock this gorgeously was a sight I want to keep seeing for the rest of my life.

"Fuck...Aria..." I hissed, her walls pulsated, I was at the edge and if I didn't release I would literally explode right here.

She looked so fucking gorgeous beneath me, I could have believed she was unreal.

No part of my skin goes untouched and no part of hers goes unfucked. I held her pretty waist beneath my palms, picking my pace, sucking on her sweet nipples, her moans and whimpers and cries sounded MUCH better than the melodic sounds from the strings of my guitar.

"Chris, I— I..." Aria moaned.

"You will sweetheart"

Molten lava dripped down my spine as I hit her G spot, her back arched, giving me the once again perfect view of her beautiful chest.

"Come," Before the word fully left my mouth she came all over my cock in a harmonious cry, flooding my cock with her juices.

I let her settle for a few seconds but then kept fucking her until another orgasm chased the first, and another, she shattered apart falling into a glorious limp of a mess and in that moment I was grateful to be alive.

After what was her fourth time coming, a few seconds later I came inside of her in a powerful orgasm that felt like a volcanic eruption, thunder roaring in my chest.

Never had sex felt so good like this.

There was sweet love making and rough hard fucking and definitely many more. But this? This felt like it was a route to find peace and but at the same time, a route to insanity.

I slowly pulled myself out, in taking the sight of her wrecked wet pussy and kissed her inner thigh making my way upto her face and fell next to her. The both of us starting the day in a very Good Morning.

"Goodness Chris I...," I chuckled at her breathless response and turned to her, placing a kiss on her forehead and pulled her into my chest in a tight embrace.

I had surely pushed her beyond her limits after making her come so much, I held her tight, wrapping her with my warmth.

I've had my time back in Europe with other women, but I cuddles after sex wasn't my thing. It was way too intimate and I couldn't get myself lost in that. And I had my rules when fucking.

Don't look at me in the eyes. Don't expect aftercare or whatever. Simple.

But Aria. Damn it. She is the reason why the icy barriers I built around my heart is threatening to crack.

"How do you feel sweetheart?" I asked, her lips met the soft skin on my neck causing me to inhale a deep breath.

"Amazing" Her eyes closed, my hand glided up from her ass to her waist, my grip tightening.

"Is this why you took your day off?" She asked mischievously, I let out a deep chuckle, my grin widening.

"Maybe. Since I'm always having trouble getting you," I pulled her, her chest pressed against my chest, "I had enough of it"

"I see. Well, I didn't know Bang Christopher Chan desired so much"

"You don't know how crazy you drive me" I said pressing my mouth on hers hard and demanding. She melted against me as I kissed her, never getting tired of her taste.

We remained in each other's embrace for a while before I glanced at the clock on the wall, it was almost 9am, I slowly removed my arm from under her neck and sat up on the bed, the sheets rumpled around my waist.

She got up as well, an expression painting across her face, worrying if I might leave after having my time. Honestly I did want to leave now that I fucked her but somehow something made me stay with her.

I leaned in and smiled at her, kissing the corner of her lips.

"You've plans for today?" I don't know why, but I wanted to spend some time with her, my friends' advices still replayed in my head every now and then. She shook her head, looking at me, curiosity filled in her eyes.

"Good. I have a nice spot we can go to"

I'm definitely getting myself locked in a complicated cage, mixing sex when we have an expiration date.

But when time comes, I'll deal with it then.

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

Taglist: @bowsnbang @bangchannie97lov @hwasmints @laurenalpha123

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know <3

Thank you for reading!

xx,Ivyy

Next Chapter

[jr-acrux101]

Meeting Abby -

(Extension of Carousel - prequel)

Summary: What Mike didn't know was the two of you had already met, and Abby wholeheartedly approved.

Word count: 2.3k

Tags: pre-established relationship, fluff, dates

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This was your 3rd date since the carousel meeting. Mike was still well Mike, the more quiet, nonchalant, and tired type.

Mike really was interested in you but his mannerisms did leave you questioning if he did or of he was trying to get a quick fuck.

The two of you sat at the diner, it was 1 in the morning. It was an odd ass hour to have a date but Mike said it was because of his work hours. Though there was a tinge of fear that maybe you were a side chick or he was trying to land some action.

You were wide awake, you had a nap after class so the sleep wasn't creeping on you but it was slowly on Mike.

Every so often he would nod off and blink himself awake, hoping you wouldn't know; you did.

"Do you want to schedule this for another time?"

He furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head 'no.'

"You look tired Mike."

He liked it when you said his name, and showed concern.

"S fine. I have a semi-normal shift tomorrow."

"Then you should be sleeping then. I don't mind waiting. "

Mike didn't want to say so he shrugged instead. "S fine," he repeated.

You gave a sigh but nodded. You noticed the book by. "What's the title?" You asked, cutting the country fried steak to eat.

"Oh um it's called dream theory. It's … hmm.. it's about how every single thing we see is stored in our brain in like this deep vault and dreaming subconsciously unlock those tiny details."

"Hmm. I think I've something similar to the whole we remember everything subconsciously but I never really looked into it. Though I guess it could explain my art."

"Your art?"

"Yeah about half my paintings are landscapes, but I don't really remember any of those places when I was too small. Like um when we went to see snow the 3rd time around when I was a little older and able to grasp some things, I remember I dreamt this oasis of cold in the redwood forest, a tree had fallen down and was mostly covered but some red was showing. Anyway, I dreamt it but don't remember the actual day, just that one scene and when I painted it my mom was shocked I even remembered that specific place. I was still small, she even showed me pictures."

"What made it stick out that you mom knew it was the place you guys went too?"

"Oh um hehe yeah, there was this small grave with flowers on it. It was in the painting as well."

"How old were you?"

"Maybe anywhere from 3 to 5."

"And you remember that detail."

"I'm assuming so, the picture my mom showed was when I was like 1 but we revisited again about that age range. There were no pictures at that spot again because of the grave. We recently started going again and I leave flowers."

"That's nice, I mean to leave flowers for someone you don't really know."

"Yeah, I guess. It was such a lonely place for a grave though so I guess maybe that's why I leave flowers, so they're spirits can know someone else enjoys that spot too. They must have really loved it to be buried there."

"You believe in spirits and the afterlife and all that?"

You hesitated, "I don't know. Do you?"

"Maybe," was his short reply. The conversation came to a stop as the two of you ate quietly.

Glancing at the time, you say it was 1:30 a.m. now.

You quickly finish as Mike finishes his. "Come on l, get up." You leave $25 on the table for the food and tip. Mike protests but still allows himself to get dragged away.

The moon is full, and the asphalt is wet from the earlier rain. You jump on the bed of the small beat pick up truck, patting the seat next to you. Mike took the offer and sat next to you.

With the dead of night and few lights, the two of you stargaze. Mike listens as you ramble on and on about the constellations, giving a nodded and humm of acknowledgment to show he's following along.

He looked at you. As you talked and talked, he loved how your hair frames your face, or how he noticed you fret about your mascara even now and then especially if you laughed a little too hard you'd cry a bit, he liked how passionate you got, and he really liked how kind you were.

While he would get praised for taking care of his sister from strangers, for being kind and self-less. He still felt selfish in a way.

He looked at your headband, shiny black and small. Abby popped into his mind. He knew that after texting for a day he was already too deep to let this be a fling.

It became silent after you were done listing the constellations, now just appreciating the night.

Mike cleared his throat to talk, and you turned your attention to him.

"Would…," he breathed out, "would you want to meet my little sister Abby?"

Your eyes widened in shock. While Mike didn't say much, he said even less about his sister. Another reason why you thought this was maybe just a fling, or trial run before he really got out there.

You opened your mom to speak but nothing came out.

Mike sighed and got up. "It's fine. I gotta go-," "Wait!"

Mike stared as you went up, "I wanna meet her! I do, really. It's just I was shocked since you've never like well talk about her."

Mike stared at you still not really knowing what to say. "Look Mike. What do you want out of this? Before asking if I wanted to meet your sister I was kind of getting the impression this was like a fling. And I'm not really interested in a fling right now."

"Oh."

"Oh?" You questioned.

"Well what made you think this was a fling?"

Mike looked down, not really wanting to look you in the eyes. "I don't know, I just got the feeling you weren't too interested. Mike, well we've only been together for about 3 dat3s. I genuinely can't recall anything you like or dislike or memories you've shared. Even when I text you it feels a bit one-sided."

"Oh."

You hummed as you continued to look at the stars, giving Mike some time to collect his thoughts.

"I'm not really a big talker if you haven't noticed. To be honest, I like to listen to you talk. You have a nice voice."

"Okay."

He gave you a look, "Okay?"

"Okay I can work with that. I just needed to know if it was disinterest or if that's just how you are."

"So it's fine? If I don't speak a lot most of the time."

"I guess we'll find out together, but between you and me I like that whole stoic, "bad boy" look / attitude you have."

Mike laughed and smirked. "Bad boy?"

"Mike every now and then you look like a genuine degenerate."

Mike raised his eyebrow. He closed the distance between the two of you. "Yeah? Isn't that what you like though." He whispered before he gave you a chaste kiss.

You blushed and gave a small laugh. "Yes, yes I do."

You brought out your phone and the time read 2:30 a.m.

"What time do you have work?"

"11 a.m. to 5 p.m."

"Mike!"

He had an amused look on his face, "What?"

"Oh my god! Go home already you have work in less than 12 hours ! You still have to sleep!"

"Don't sleep much to be honest." You huffed air out of your nose.

"Well you should."

Mike grinned, and he put his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. "I like the color green."

You smiled back. "Green? Hmm…"

"Hmmm… what?"

"It fits you."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Yeah of course, green is a very strong but soothing color."

"It is."

The two of you sat in silence before Mike's phone rang. He looked at it and rolled his eyes.

"Hello. Yeah. Yeah, got it. Okay I'm on my way."

He gave a sigh, "Sorry that was my aunt. I asked her to babysit but I guess something came up at her place."

"Oh okay that's fine. Text me when you get home so I know you made home safe."

He gave a tired smile, "Isn't that my line to you?"

"It would be if you weren't running on minimal sleep."

"Fair enough. But text me too okay, in case I forgot while talking to my aunt or you get home first."

You gave a nod and he gave you another chaste kiss. You blushed again, and smiled. He hopped off the truck and waved bye. You waved as he left the parking lot in his beat up car.

You rushed inside your car and towards home, excited to tell your friends everything.

With texts of 'I'm home,' and 'goodnight' s, the two of you feel asleep dreaming of each other.

A week had passed before Mike brought up meeting Abby again. This date was way earlier and on his day off.

"Do you think she'll like me?"

Mike paused. "I'm not sure to be honest. Not ! Not that you're unlikable or anything like that! She's just a timid kid, hell she barely likes me."

"I'm sure she likes you Mike."

"Yeah well you haven't met her," he grumbled.

You gave an amused look but relented. "So she gets out in an hour right?"

Mike nodded.

"Okay and you said she likes art right? To draw and such?"

Mike nodded again. "Okay, perfect. I'll be back here at 3!"

As you started to slide out the booth, Mike stared at you confused. "Wait where are you going?"

"Don't worry I'll be back." You practically dash out the door to your car.

Mike gave a frustrated sigh and got up after paying the bill. 'I guess I'll just have to wait until 3 too then.' He ran a hand through his curly hair and hopped in his car.

Mike parked at the diner, looking back at Abby. "Okay we're gonna meet a friend of mine okay Abs?"

Abby furrowed her brows, "Your girlfriend?"

Mike nodded. Abby stayed silent. He got out of the car as did she. He held her hand as they entered, he spotted you immediately.

You h/c shining from the sun, you were drinking water while reading a book. Lost in your own world Mike cleared his throat. You looked up at him and then down at the little girl.

Abby recognized you as you recognized her. "Hi!”

Before you could get another word in, Abby motioned you forward. You raised an eyebrow towards who gave a shrug reply but you went with her request.

“Don't tell Mike about Mr. Bunny.” She said in a hushed whisper.

You stared at her then at Mike and then at her again. “Okay. Got it. But why?”

Abby looked at Mike, shoved him slightly to get away from their secrets. She cupped her hand, “Because I want to have a secret between us. I like you, you gave my Mr. Bunny when you didn't have to.”

You gave a warm smile, “ Okay deal. Pinky promise, and seal the deal.”

As you pinky crossed and thumbs stamped together, Mike gave you an expectant look.

Abby slid in across from you and Mike sat next to her.

“What?” He rolled his eyes.

“What were you two whispering about?”

“It's a secret!” Shouted Abby.

Mike looked at you again. “Sorry can't see, those are the secret rules and it's backed by a stamped pink promise. You'll never know.” You have a sad look and shrugg. Abby laughed at your expression and Mike shook his head.

“Well I guess it can't be helped.” You and Abby nodded.

You remembered a thought, “Oh yeah!” You rummaged through your bag and got the present for Abby you bought.

“Here you go Abby. It's a sketchbook for your private drawings.”

“Private drawings?” She turned her head to the side.

You smiled at her, “Yeah, drawings for yourself. I have a lot of them that I don't wanna share because they're private and for me.”

“You draw!”

You nodded and hummed. “Can you draw me something?”

“Uh sure. Is it fine if it's in your book?”

She nodded vigorously. “Okay what do you want me to draw?”

She pondered the question. “Oh! A bunny!”

“A bunny? Hmm okay like a realistic bunny or a cartoon?”

“Cartoon.”

“Yeah sure.”

Mike smiled. “Yeah she's been obsessed with bunny's after some girl won one and gave it to her instead.”

You fought off the smile as you drew, and Abby giggled. Mike gave her a questioning look but all Abby did was stick out her tongue, which Mike did back, only for a split second though.

Mike and Abby watched as you sketched out the cartoon bunny, erasing and redoing the line a couple of times. You finished the outline as food came, Mike ate and watched as you stuck your tongue out slightly finishing up the little details. It had a top hat and a bow.

“Alright Abby, here you go!”

Abby squealed in delight. “Thank you!” She stared are your drawing as she ate, it did resemble Mr. Bunny. Mike noticed that too but thought it was a mere coincidence.

The meal went smoothly, with Abby begging for a shake and Mike giving in. Sitting here, you thought it was nice, maybe something to get accustomed to. In fact, you hoped it was.

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Y'all I can't stop writing im procrastinating 😩 anyway enjoy!!

Taglist: @stinkii-boii @hellothisisprincesskitty

[seattlesea]

Lorien Legacies Characters as Things My Family and I Have Said (part five)

Nine: God the smell in here is making me want to die John: Then go outside Five: Then die --- Maggie, writing a book: Can your breathing get cut off if there's a heavy weight on your chest? Adam: Yeah Maggie: Cool Adam: That's how they killed people in the old days, by stacking a bunch of rocks on their chest and suffocating them Maggie: Okay a 'Yes' would've been fine --- John: Finish your food Nine: I'm going to go home and take the fattest shit you've ever seen do not make me eat more --- Eight: I'm psychic, I can see into people's futures. I see in your near future that you're going to get sick Eight: *coughs in Nine's face* --- Adam: Did you eat? Maggie: Yeah. A strawberry Adam: That's it? Maggie: Two strawberries --- Six and John: *talking about spirit animals* Six: You'd be a swan John: Because I'm so graceful? Six: No cause you're white --- Sam: I was actually really good at orchestra in school, I was first chair on the cello Six: *puts her hand to her chest and gasps* Oh my god! Sam: What? Six, sarcastically: What a cool story! --- Six and Marina: *having a normal adult conversation* Eight: My black olive just rolled across my laptop --- Nine: Dirty mother... John: *giving him a dirty look with Ella next to him* Nine:...Of...Jesus --- One: Hey what're you gonna be for Halloween? Adam: I dunno yet what about you? One: I was thinking of being a witch Adam: Oh that's cool One: Yeah maybe you can be my broomstick so I can ride you all night Adam: WHAT- One: What, is that bad? Would you rather I be a pirate and you be a sword so I can stick you in me? Adam: *screaming* --- Ella: *touches a gross blanket* Ew Marina: What? Ella: It's giving me the ick Marina: The what? Ella: I'm acoustic --- Six: Bitch, I do NOT lift to be called a lipstick lesbian --- Five: *staring at a candle* Eight: What are you doing? Five: Trying to light myself on fire with my mind --- Nine, in public loud as hell: Yeah I'd fuck young Elvis Strangers passing by: *giving him grossed-out looks* Nine: What? You would too Nine, muttering: Prudes --- Sam: Look at my skeleton animal collection. I can a bat, I got a rat, and I got a cat Hannu, sadly: But no hats --- John: *celebrating his birthday and opening gifts* Five, silently crying: *places a couple wadded-up singles in front of John* That's all I got --- Six: You know it would've been easier if you just took the highway Marina: But...the trees... --- Adam: I'm gay John after taking Adam to a Fall Out Boy concert and watching him sit on the floor with three empty couches: Cool --- One and Six: *Talking about the ped@ at their job* Six: He's the reason there's an 18+ age limit --- Five: Despite popular belief, I will be going to Heaven because Satan will be jealous someone has a fatter ass than him --- Sam teaching the Lorics to make cereal: Okay first gather your things Lorics: :) Sam: Then, you put in your milk Daniela: Huh? Lorics: :) Sam: Next, you add your cereal Daniela: Hell no Lorics: :) Sam: Then drizzle in your honey Daniela: Bro WHAT Lorics: :) Sam: And finally, put it in the microwave Daniela: WHAT THE FUCK Lorics: :) Sam: And then you have cereal Lorics: Yay Daniela: I'm going to kill you --- Marina: So what is credit score? Sam: *ten minute explanation of credit score, payments, debt, and loans with examples* Marina:... Sarah: The loophole so the bank can't lend poor people money to stop being poor Marina: Ohhhh --- Nine: Damn, dude, I really don't know anything about you. I only know like your favorite color and animal, the music you listen to, your favorite movies, how you dress, your favorite coffee flavor, your personality, your deepest fear, your address, your entire backstory, all the people you like and hate, and your habit of needing to use a straw with every single drink or it doesn't 'taste right' John:... --- Eight: Damn I'm thirsty Adam: Then go drink water Eight: I can't, I'm fasting Adam:...Well I think you're supposed to drink water if you're running around all the time Eight:...

[confused-red-head]

These Curses We Bear

Chapter 1 - If these Walls Could Talk

Pro-Hero!Shouto Todoroki x Psychic Medium Detective!Reader

Masterlist

Previous - Current - Next

WARNING: dark themes, death, minor character death, descriptions of dead bodies(no excessive gore), paranormal activities, blood, violence, cursing, angst, angst WITH COMFORT(moreso in later chapters), mentions of trauma, mentions of illness, fem!reader, READER TALKS TO GHOSTS, ghost child in chapter 1, children in general, Reader being a dork, home break-in, slowish burn, pro hero au, aged up characters, strangers to friends to lovers, etc.

"Sorry, but I'm not an exorcist."

If you had one yen for every time you've said this exact phrase, you certainly wouldn't have found yourself with a weeping man begging on his knees in the middle of an ice cream shop.

But beggars can't be choosers.

"Please! So many people have gotten sick and we have no idea why! We've had the place inspected from top to bottom and they haven't found anything! We had to throw out all of our previous batches of ice cream! This is costing us so much and at this rate we will have to shut down! I didn't know what else to do!", the shop owner pleads, his hands clasped together with a tear-streaked face.

With a sigh, you pinched the bridge of your nose. It was already late by the time you received the call from the shop owner, Mr. Masuda. The conversation over the phone was frantic and garbled, enough so that you had rushed out of your apartment in pajamas and gray peacoat. Rookie mistake. Seeing how you had nothing to lose, you may as well try.

"Fine. Alright. I'll try, but there's no promise that if there is a spirit or that it will want to talk. On top of that, I can't promise I'll be able to get them to cease activity. If that's the case, I do have the contacts of some people who may be able to help you."

"Oh thank you! Thank you! You are a lifesaver!"

Mr. Masuda bowed even lower as you sidestepped around him. You took in the shop's atmosphere. The place was brightly colored, various walls painted pastel blue, pink, and yellow. The tables and seats were covered in similarly-colored patterns; while the walls were decked out with signs, photos, art, and flourishing plastic plants. You thought it would have been a nice place to wind down after a day of running errands. Unfortunately for you, today was not that day.

"Now, where did you say the activity occurred most?"

Mr. Masuda rose from his bow and clambered to stand on his own two feet.

"The ice cream display! We've had customers feel nauseous or even faint due to a sudden difficulty in breathing."

You hummed in response and wandered over to the casing, your eyes flickered to and fro; searching for even a single speck of dust out of place. You quickly slip on a rubber glove from your bag, swipe a finger over the surface of the casing, and rub two fingers together, searching for any unusual substances. 

Nothing. No grainy or oily texture from a foreign substance. Still, that doesn't rule out foul play from a neighboring business, competitor, or even just a particularly upset customer.

Some people are real fucking crazy…

"You clean and wipe down every surface at the end of the day, right?"

You strip off the glove, shoving it into your pajama pants pocket to dispose of later.

"Of course! I wouldn't dare leave the place filthy!", Mr. Masuda was obviously offended by your speculation.

"Alright! Okay! I'm just making sure. You'd be surprised with what some businesses cut corners on…", you crouched down to inspect the ground around and underneath the display case as you continued to ask questions.

"Do you know anyone who could possibly hold a grudge against you or profit from the shop closing?"

"Wh-what?! No! At least not that I know of. It's not like we are in a prime location and I haven't had any encounters that I can think of that would cause such a response.", Mr. Masuda wrung out hands at the thought of someone wanting to hurt him and his business. "Do you think someone may have cursed me?!"

You hummed in thought.

"Hmm perhaps… if it really is a spirit that is.", you rose from your place on the floor and turned to face the frantic shop owner, "You said an employee saw a ghostly form when she was locking up earlier tonight?"

"Yes! Miss Kimura! She's a very hard working girl and very kind too! She does well with the children who come in! It broke my heart hearing how terrified she was over the phone after she saw it."

"Did she describe it to you? Have you perhaps seen a similar figure yourself?" 

"I haven't seen anything like she described, but she said she saw a pale white figure, small like a child. She said it looked like it was looking into the display case, standing where the incidents keep happening."

You dug your hand into your messenger bag, one you bring to on-site investigations, and pulled out a UV flashlight. 

"Mind hitting the lights for me?"

"O-oh! Of course!", Mr. Masuda rushed over to the light switches near the shop entrance. As soon as the lights flickered out, you clicked on the flashlight and passed the shining purple light over the display case surface. Quickly, you find something interesting. Two small handprints make themselves known in the ultraviolet light. 

"And you said you wash the display case every night?"

"Yes! We clean the place thoroughly after closing! Kimura said she only saw the figure when she was locking up.", he perked up a bit, prideful of his shop's cleanliness.

"Well… either she missed a spot or these prints are fresh…", you flashed the light over the handprints again to show Mr. Musuda, who quickly looked shaken over the find.

"I… I'm sorry…"

A voice called out, sounding meek and guilty.

"Mama always said I shouldn't touch the glass, but the ice cream looks so good…"

You turned slightly towards the voice that came from right beside you. Your eyes landed on a ghostly figure of a young girl, looking no older than six years old and wearing a hospital gown. Her head hung in shame, clearly guilty of her actions. You slowly descended into a squat, careful not to scare the spirit girl. 

"Hey…", you spoke softly as if she were a lost child looking for their parents ,"It's okay. We can clean up again. May I ask for your name?"

The girl looked spooked at the fact I acknowledged her at all. Her eyes went wide with surprise.

"M-mama said I shouldn't talk to strangers… but I don't think anyone else can hear or see me…" 

"You're a smart girl to listen to your mama. She's right afterall. I understand if you're nervous, but I just want to ask you a few questions. Only if you're okay with that, of course, but I'd really like to try and help you."

The girl tugged at her gown nervously, looking down like she was contemplating whether you could be trusted or not.

"...Okay…", She whispered, "I'll answer your questions. My name is Chihoko Konuma."

"You have a very lovely name, Miss Konuma. My name is Y/N L/N, I'm a private detective," You turned to Mr. Masuda and gestured toward him,"and this nice man is Mr. Masuda. He's the owner of this shop."

"I know Mr. Masuda!", she perks up at the name

"Oh? How do you know him?"

"Me and Mama would come here every sunday! He's very nice! And Miss Kimura too!", and as quickly as it came her happy attitude disappeared. 

"I… I scared Miss Kimura,didn't I? Can you tell her I'm sorry? I really didn't mean to."

"I'm sure she will be fine. It's okay. She just… didn't understand." You trailed off.

You inhaled and clasped your hands together, tucking them under your chin.

"Do you remember what happened before you found yourself here?"

"I… I was in the hospital. Mama said my lungs didn't work right, that the doctors were going to help me… It hurt. It hurt a lot. And Mama was crying. I was so tired. All I wanted was to see Mama happy again. I just wanted to go out like before. Then we could get ice cream like we always did."

You could feel your throat tighten at the sight of tears welling up in the girl's eyes, hands in her gown tighten even further. 

"... Miss Detective… I'm not going to wake up, am I?"

Your heart dropped and you couldn't bring yourself to look her in the eye. This was the part you hated most. There were plenty of spirits who didn't understand what had happened to them. Many went on believing that they were still among the living, going about their day confined to a certain space or attached to a certain object. But, being the one to break the news never sat right with you.

"... No. I'm sorry, Chihoko." Your voice stayed steady and firm, yet gentle.

There was a heavy silence that settled. One that felt like it could drag you to the deepest depths of the ocean and never let up. From the corner of your eye you could tell even Mr. Masuda was affected by the intense wave of sadness in the room as he cupped his mouth to keep himself from choking up despite only catching half the conversation.

"...You said you wanted your Mama to be happy, right?" You started, forcing yourself to look at her again, "Well… I'm sure the thing that would make your Mama happiest… would be knowing that you were happy… that you don't hurt anymore…"

Chihoko looked up at you, ghostly tears fell from her eyes, but disappeared before they ever reached the ground. Her hands loosened their grip on her gown.

"... Chihoko, would you like some ice cream?"

She stayed silent, but nodded. You finally rose from your squat and held your hand out to Chihoko. 

"C'mon, you can choose where we sit."

She nodded again and took your hand. You felt a cold and wispy feeling envelope your hand as she began to lead you to the table in front of the windows.

"Mr. Masuda, you can go ahead and turn the lights back on. We're going to have ice cream if you don't mind." You smiled at the man who looked absolutely baffled by the situation.

"O-oh… yes! Of course!" He flicked the lights on and rushed back behind the counter.

"Is… is this part of the process?" He paused for a moment, looking for some clarity from you. 

"Uhhh yeah! Yes! Absolutely! The spirit demands an offering! And the offering must be ice cream!" You gave off a silly dramatic flare to your little speech and you heard a little giggle from the now seated ghost girl. 

"Psst, what do you want?" You leaned over slightly.

"Hmm… birthday cake ice cream with two scoops…"

"The mighty spirit demands two scoops…"

"No! Wait! Three! Three scoops!"

"Wait! Three scoops of birthday cake ice cream!"

"I also want rainbow sprinkles! Oh! And a cherry on top!"

"And make that with rainbow sprinkles and a cherry on top! So does the mighty spirit Chihoko demand it! All hail the mighty spirit!" You flare out your peacoat dramatically in emphasis, "... and uhh throw one in for me too, please."

You heard giggles erupt from the girl as Mr. Masuda quickly began putting together the orders, looking even more puzzled than before. Once finished he rushes over with two cups. You took one of the cups from his hands and raised it high above your head. 

"Dear mighty spirit! Please accept our offering!" 

You sat the cup in front of Chihoko, leaning slightly, you said softer, "May you find peace and happiness."

Chihoko smiled brightly and kicked her feet in her seat, "Thank you, Miss Detective."

"Anytime, Kiddo."

As you sat in the seat across from her and propped your head with your hand, you noticed a daydreaming look in her eyes. As if she were somewhere else completely. Where the sun was shining, the flowers were in bloom, and the beautiful birdsong rang through the air. Soon enough the ghostly girl's visage had dispersed, the seat she once occupied was once agin empty.

That knot in your throat appeared again. You bit the inside of your cheek and took slow breaths. With a hefty sigh, you rose from your chair and turned to Mr. Masuda. 

"So… so that's it? Is it coming back?" Mr. Masuda stuttered out, still very much confused.

"No. She most likely won't be coming back. If the events occur again, just call me up again and I'll take a look at it."

"Ah! That's good! Thank you so much, Detective! And uhhh about the payment-"

"Don't worry about it right now. It's late. I'll call you tomorrow and we can work something out. For now just worry about getting your business back in order." You take your ice cream cup in hand, "But I wouldn't mind taking this and a few more pints of ice cream home, if you don't mind…"

The plastic bag rustled as it swung into your leg with each stride. Mr. Masuda gladly agreed to give you some ice cream and sent you on your way with a promise of payment in the future. 

The ice cream shop may not have been far from your apartment, but each step felt heavier than the last. The streets weren't empty, but it was certainly quiet enough for your thoughts to ring louder than the idle chatter of the people on the street.

 You hated this feeling. The emotional exhaustion that came with interacting with spirits was sometimes too much to bear. All you wanted to do was have your tea and fall asleep while cuddling your cat. Maybe cry a little. Or cry a lot. Who knows? 

The thought of home was enough to will the energy to make the trek back. You felt your feet quicken the moment you saw your tiny apartment building come into view. 

Your hand blindly dug into your bag for your keys as you made your way up the strangely steep and uneven steps you have learned to navigate. The moment you pushed in the code and the door opened you heard whispers in your ears. 

Yes. Your apartment building was also haunted. 

Lucky you.

It was the reason you could afford a decent apartment for so cheap. You made a deal with the landlord to keep the spirits in check for a more affordable price on rent. Especially since the spirits were quite lively.

 They weren't aggressive exactly, but more curious and sociable. They especially liked to give you all the apartment building gossip. You can't lie, it was pretty entertaining. Like your own personal reality tv show.

And this time they came to you with news of someone breaking into your apartment.

Oh goodie. 

Your mood soured and you began to march up the stairs of the building. Of all nights some random asshole had to choose tonight. If someone was going to die tonight it certainly wasn't going to be you. You would be personally adding a new spirit to the apartment building's collection. 

It wasn't until you had reached your door had you caught the feeling of a familiar aura. Your sour mood lifted into a mix of relief and confusion.

You unlocked the door and let it swing open.

"I know we are friends and all, Shinsou, but at least give me a heads up before you go breaking into my apartment."

You reached the end of the hall and flicked on the lights to reveal the pro hero, his indigo hair tucked away under a black, slicked back wig, dark brown eye contacts over his natural purple, and heavy make-up distorting his natural features. He sat on your couch with your cat curled up in his lap, who clearly didn't seem deterred by his drastically different appearance.

That little traitor.

"Long time no see, Miss Nancy Drew. As always you are no fun to surprise."

Despite the lax nature of his words, there was a seriousness in his voice and a hard look in his eye. An uneasiness settled in your stomach. You closed your door and slipped off your shoes

"Something happened."

It was less of a question and more of a statement. He nodded. It was then you sensed a second presence. One unfamiliar to you.

"So… who's your friend hiding in my bathroom?"

You didn't like this. You had never seen Shinsou look so hesitant. Guilty almost. 

"Look. I need you to do me a favor…"

"First, I need you to tell me who the hell is in my fucking bathroom, Shinsou." Your voice had cut him off. Quick and angry you whispered. You were not in the mood to play these games. 

Shinsou let out a frustrated and defeated sigh. Your cat jumped off his lap as he leaned forward to press his intertwined hands to his mouth. 

"Shouto."

Huh?

"Number three pro hero, Shouto."

…

"WHAT?!"

Taglist: @andypantsx3

[sisi-halloway]

Blind Date: Nanami x (Quirky) Reader

Reader is stuck in the elevator with Nanami!

"Hey! Can you hold the elevator?"

It was hard work not to let the whole world know you were out of breath. Luckily there was just one person in the hotel hallway with you. As you hurried into the glitzy elevator, you forced yourself to inhale slowly through your nose and exhale shakily out of your mouth. The silence was deafening... and your breathing was even louder than that.

The blond guy here in the elevator was gracious enough to hold his hand out so it wouldn't go on without you. That was good because you would've been 10 minutes later to work than your usual 5 minute tardiness... and 15 minutes just looked so bad on paper.

When you finally caught your breath, you thanked him.

"You're welcome," he replied. It was a quiet, unemotional response. It made you feel embarrassed.

It was a silent ride. You held your brief case in front of you, staring at your reflection in the wraparound mirror. He looked at his watch. Maybe he was late for something too.

When the lights flickered and the suspension got tricky, causing the elevator to screech to a halt, you winced.

If he wasn't late before, he was definitely going to be now. Join the fucking club.

"Perfect..." He grumbled under his breath. It made you laugh. You were never the shy type, always leaping at any chance for a conversation.

"I know right... I thought this only happened in shitty movies."

You decided to take his scoff as his own unique version of a laugh.

The silence carried on for a few more minutes, but the longer that you waited the smaller you and the stranger's hopes shrunk. You weren't going to be out of here any time soon.

You take off your dress shoes. They weren't very comfortable and frankly a size or two smaller thsn you wore. The stranger made something short of a scowl at your feet, but his face softened when he saw the bruises on the back of your heel and the tops of your feet.

"Sorry... I promise I'll put them back on if my feet smell bad..."

He shakes his head.

"It's fine."

The truth was, the stranger in the elevator was Nanami Kento. The truth was, he was not scowling at you. He was trying to think of something to say to make conversation. The truth was, he'd been trying to talk to you for a few days now. The truth was, he thought you were pretty.

You were a bit nervous to open your mouth to speak, the aura of the standoffish stranger threatening to dampen your spirits. Ah hell, when has thay ever stopped you?

"Are you going to be late for something?" You asked.

The man looked at his watch again.

"If this takes more than a half-hour, I will be."

You were impressed! He had enough spare time for a thirty minute elevator movie scene? This man had it together. He even looked punctual. His tan suit was ironed to perfection, complete with two creases down the front legs. His blue dress shirt had not a single fold, and his tie... you really loved that tie. It almost matched your polka dot outfit. Maybe it was meant to be.

"Well... I'm already late. I think this is a good enough excuse as any?"

You smiled when he looked up to meet your eyes. You decided to introduce yourself. What was the harm?

"I'm (y/n)."

Nanami remembered.

He was staying in this hotel for a work trip. He had been called to do some investigating into a serious matter of special grade proportions. Well... he was supposed to interview a few people here in the city to get information of a curse that's been acting as some type of Zodiac Killer. When he arrived, it was about 4 in the afternoon. He'd walked past you in the lobby on his way to the front desk to check in. You had been on the phone with your sister. She was supposed to be bringing some clothes for you. She had made a joke and your laugh, Nanami thought, was the prettiest thing in the room aside from your smile. It was also the loudest, but that's not why he noticed.

He had been having a shitty day and your laugh just made him feel a little better about it.

Every time he'd stepped out of his hotel room, to get breakfast or visit the hotel gym or pool, he'd hoped to see you. Even if he was too reserved to talk to you, he wanted to see you again. And every time, he'd seem to miss you. His 7:3 ratio was more like a 1 in a million. How had he been so unlucky? That's what he thought before getting stuck in this elevator with you.

"Nice to meet you," he replied evenly. "My name is Nanami."

He was handsome, especially when some warmth crept into his face. Maybe it was the lack of air conditioning in this fiberglass box you two were in... or maybe it was you.

"So, Nanami... what brings you to this hotel in specific?"

He clears his throat and shifts his weight so it was perfectly and evenly distributed between his two feet. He was nervous, but to you he just looked cool. He was good at hiding his nerves.

"Work... what about you?"

You would've loved to say the same, to have a great job that paid you well and took you places. That wasn't the case. You worked as a receptionist, getting paid barely any more than the minimum wage.

"A pipe in my house burst... and it flooded the place. So I have to stay here."

Nanami nodded. He was admiring the way your hips swayed as you stretched your popping back against the elevator mirror. You were smiling again. A smile that put him at risk for a knockout.

"I'm sorry to hear that, (y/n)..."

You noticed he sounded so professional. Was he such a career man even in his everyday life?

"That's okay! This is the nicest hotel my insurance would let me stay at... so I'm not complaining! The food is delicious and free and I get access to the amenities as well..."

Nanami relished your optimism. It was like he was looking into a polarized mirror at his complete opposite. And he might have been in love.

"Well... that's one way to look at it. The gym is actually rather nice here. All the amenities are."

You giggle.

"You're right, they are! Also... I didn't realize this hotel offered blind dating in the elevators..."

Nanami's body couldn't tell if he wanted to laugh or blush or roll his eyes. So he did all three in a gesture that was the most expressive he'd been in months. He looked so human there, something that only a person like you could bring out of him.

That was an adorable thing to say, and quite quick on the draw. He was impressed.

"I... thought I saw something about it on the website... you didn't know?"

His decision to play along was a rare one. It made him glad he chose it when he saw your grin grow wider. You had the most gracious set of pearly whites and it made his stomach fluttered.

"No! I didn't see that part-"

And idea popped into your head. You already made it this far. Why not push it a bit more?

"Wait... I think I did... and right under that it said something like... if your blind elevator date made you laugh... you'd get a coffee with them?"

You gave Nanami your most convincing look, a perfect combination of sultry and sweet and silly with a bit of swagger. Maybe your quirky personality was finally going to win someone over.

Nanami was floored by your boldness. He had a thing or two to learn from you. He bit his lip, looking away from you. If he stared too long, his eyes would wander, and his face would be as red as that "Call for Fire" button that one of you should've pressed a long time ago.

"Then... I should've laughed sooner... because I'd like that."

Your heart skipped a beat. Maybe two. Maybe three. Or maybe you were still out of breath from running all the way to the elevator in uncomfortable shoes and too tight clothes. In any case, you and this handsome stranger had somehow hit it off.

You bat your lashes rather seductively as you calmed your voice and asked.

"Mh... So if we make it out of here alive, you would like a coffee with me?"

Nanami's eyes did a once over on your body. It was just as gorgeous as every other part of you. And it was tempting him a bit now. He was warm, but he liked it.

"I would love... a coffee with you, (y/n)."

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟑   ❛ 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ❜   |   QUEEN'S OFFICE, MID MARCH 1991

❧  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

   ❛  Beatriz, like her grandmother before her, lived by the belief that Uspana was her true firstborn. When her daughter’s mourning period concluded, she returned to work on its behalf. She was not a simple figurehead. Her job was not to pose for pictures, to fundraise money for good causes, to lift the spirits of the weary with a benevolent smile. She did the work of a statesman, and she did it well. She was a politician. On any given day, her attention divided in a thousand directions—domestic versus foreign affairs, diplomacy and economics, tempestuously petty interpersonal dynamics on which national matters of life and death too often depended. Staff abounded to keep it all in order, but Beatriz had always been a hands-on executive. She knew what skeletons lurked in the closets of allies and adversaries alike, and she knew the details of bills and proposals less careful eyes overlooked. She enjoyed sparring with representatives. She harangued her ministers for sport. It wasn’t ideology that drove her so much as the desire to win. More than merely dedicated, the queen thrived in the high-stakes, head-spinning world of governance. It was one in which her weaknesses were strengths. The people of Uspana knew her reputation, but most of them credited it with the long era of stability that she seemed to have held together, almost single-handedly, through sheer force of will.

❧ TAKE TWO FUCK TUMBLR i took the screenshots for this ages ago, and !!!!! i wish that i’d had the time and energy to redo it, but :/ fine enough to just post. i wish i could say beatriz gets better, but ... idk, man, this is just who she is, which sucks sdkfshj

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

TRANSCRIPT:

{Conversation}

[L] She canceled again, didn’t she?

[B] Not quite. It’s business as usual, is all. They’re taking a coffee break in a moment, so she’ll see you for a few minutes then. [L] {scoffs} Of course.

[B] Look at you. Such a tired trio.

[B] I’m glad to see your faces. These last several weeks have been difficult for everyone. Time to come together.

[B] That’s what I wanted to share with you. Everything is the same for us—well, except for you three. How can we have orphans in a family so large? That’s how you feel, I presume.

[B] You don’t know this, but he had all sorts of inquiries about Safya’s estate within mere days of … Well. Mourning is over, and there is a definitive, sweeping answer. An eviction, in fact. That was her home, and I intend to preserve it as such indefinitely.

[L] I don’t understand. What about Gil and Mateo? [B] You would understand if you let me finish, Leonor. Anyway, this is hardly your concern. You wanted to live alone.

[B] Boys, you will take up residence at Nakawe Palace. Damian and Julian are there, Arnaut’s pair will be around … You will be with me, with your grandfather—right where you ought to be. [G] Mother Beatriz, will Papa be there?

[B] These apartments are for those who belong to the Crown. You belong. Some others do not. [G] Can he visit? [M] We’ll still see him, Gil.

[B] Before you get any ideas: don’t mistake this for a discussion. I was just going to send a moving van to pick you up, but your grandfather was convinced that would be somehow cruel.

[B] Leonor, give me a moment. I have something to say.

[B] Why would you go out like this? They’ll notice. [L] Who will? [B] Come on now. The papers, obviously.

[B] You look awful. To start, go home and wash your hair. These things matter.

[B] They’re going to eat you alive. Do you hear me? They will because they can, and there’s little I can do about it. [L] {softly} They already are …

[B] Exactly. This is my one warning. Let’s not disappoint.

[M] Why didn’t you say anything? [L] Why didn’t you? [M] That’s not fair.

[L] Don’t call him. He should hear everything from her people. It’ll be easier for everyone that way.

[M] Easier? You know that’s not true.

[M] Wait—where are you going? We have plans!

[M] Leonor!

[lorna-d-m]

Chapter One: Tequila Sunrise

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!OC (Cecilia Anderson)

Summary: Meet Miguel O'Hara, a rugged bareback rider who could have had it all, and Cici Anderson, the spirited daughter of a stock contractor trapped in a toxic relationship. When fate brings them together for a dance, they see each other again and again.

Word count: 7,133

W: language, drinking, some locker room talk (but not by Miguel)

Ao3 link here

A/N: Anything that is italicized within the quotation marks is said in Spanish.

I didn't have wifi for almost a week and we've been dealing with one thing after another in the new apartment, but chapter one is finally here. And how did we get here? Basically, I read several rodeo romance books and thought "fuck it, cowboy Miguel" and now here we are. If you want to be added to the taglist you can comment or fill out the google form here

Miguel pressed the end call button and stared at his phone. 4:17. The afternoon interview and autograph sessions were done, but it was too early to get ready and too late to nap in his truck. He got up from his shaded spot outside with a grunt and started to look for Peter. Knowing him, he was probably near the concession stands looking for a vendor selling pizza. 

Sure enough, Miguel spotted his friend tucked away to the side, melted cheese hanging from the corner of his mouth, and his baby, Mayday, strapped to his chest. He laughed silently to himself and acknowledged his friend with a tip of his hat.

“How’s Gabriel? He doin’ okay?” Mayday leaned forward to get a nibble of pizza, and Peter moved it away at the last second.

“He said he was probably going to order a pizza for dinner, and I said that’s fine as long as he doesn’t make that a habit everytime I’m out of town for a competition. Don’t exactly have the money to support that kind of habit.”

“True, but the kid deserves a treat every now and then.” To prove his point, he gave Mayday a bite of cheese. “Don’t tell Gwen I did that, she made me swear not to give our baby junk food.” 

Kid. At 25, Miguel didn’t think he would be looking out for a kid, much less his kid brother. At least Gabriel was fifteen now, so Miguel didn’t feel the need to hire a babysitter, but on his first weekend away he found himself checking in frequently. Peter spoke again, not concerned by Miguel’s silence. 

“He doin’ okay now? Last time I saw him he still looked really down, which I get it, y’alls mom died just a few months ago, but he didn’t laugh at a single one of my jokes.”

“Eh.” It wasn’t one of his favorite subjects, and he didn’t like dwelling on it. He knew Peter meant well, in his own way, but he would rather stand in silence. “He’s getting there.”

“And you? Are you getting there? She was your mother, too, you know.”

Debatable. “Let’s just say I had a different experience than Gabriel and leave it at that.”

“Alright,” Peter put his hands up defensively, “I can hear it in your voice, you don’t want to talk about it, so we won’t talk about it. But you need to talk about it, or it’s going to eat you up from the outside.”

Miguel grunted, signaling the end of the conversation. He stood with his arms crossed and a resting glare — that couldn’t be hidden behind sunglasses — weighing his options. It would be time to get ready soon, dressing in all his layers, checking his equipment, and stretching, but for now, he people-watched. 

Rookies milled about, either walking with too much confidence and not enough experience to back it up or wide-eyed hoping not to land in the dirt tonight. Families, wives, and girlfriends made their way to the seats to beat out all the fans who would be let in soon. The buckle bunnies would show up when the gates opened, hanging onto the fences to get a glimpse of the cowboys. 

Two women walked past, but every five steps they took they were stopped. Bareback, saddleback, and even bull riders approached them, some desperate and anxious, others dripping with charm, but all walked away disappointed. 

“Who’re they?” Miguel asked, gesturing with his chin rather than pointing.

“Who? Oh! You mean Barbie and Jessie from Toy Story. Those aren’t their names, of course, that’s just what I call them because that’s who they remind me of.”

He looked them over carefully with the nicknames in mind. “Jessie” referred to the redheaded cowgirl, plaid shirt and jeans to boot, with a hat pushed high on her brow. She stood with her hand pressed to her lower stomach as if she was cradling a barely there bump and checked her watch. “Jessie” gently nudged “Barbie” with her foot.

And “Barbie” was, well, Barbie. Dressed all in pink, with heels rather than boots, makeup done to subtle perfection, an easygoing smile, and batting her eyes. But she wasn’t a traditional Barbie, no, and he appreciated the difference. Her blonde hair wasn’t straight; it fell in ringlets across her shoulders. And she wasn’t built like a Barbie doll, with perfect proportions and a slim waist, no, she was plush and soft, something he could hold and squeeze. She was better than Barbie.

“They’re Andersons,” Peter continued, “Barbie is Cecilia, Jacob’s daughter, and Jessie is actually Taylor. She married Nick about a year or two ago, and if my eyes don’t deceive me, there should be another Anderson by the end of the year.”

Andersons. Everyone in the rodeo knew the Andersons' names. They were one of the major contractors for the shows, supplying the horses and bulls for the cowboys to ride. Jacob and Nick could often be seen wrangling the horses, helping shuffle them around to and from the chutes, but Miguel would have remembered seeing Cecilia before. 

Miguel clicked his tongue and slightly tilted his head, watching a pair of riders approach them. “And I take it they’re all trying to sweet talk them to know more about the ride they drew?” She reminded him of a princess holding court.

“Yup. And of course they never say anything to keep things equal, but it doesn’t stop them from trying.”

She quickly and easily dismissed the two rookies with a light laugh, tucking her blonde curls behind her ear. They stomped away cursing her name, but she paid no attention to them. Miguel chuckled, remembering when he was young and headstrong. And now? he thought, he wanted to try his luck. 

Miguel straightened his back, tugged on his jeans, and slicked back his hair under his hat. He better look decent if he was to present himself to the stock princess and plead his case. 

“Miguel O’Hara,” he offered his hand, and she took it. Her hand was soft and small in his, her nails a delicate shade of pink, and he looked in her dark blue eyes. She was tall, but still short compared to him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Her voice was saccharine sweet, dripping with honey. “Cici Anderson, and this is my sister, Taylor, but I think you already knew that. To what do we owe this pleasure?” 

“I thought I would join the masses trying to get a reading on their ride.” His hands rested reflexively on his hips, subconsciously emphasizing his gold stallion belt buckle. Miguel was damn proud when he won it. He caught her eyes flick appreciatively, and he smirked.

“Is that so?” Taylor asked. “And who did you draw?”

“Fate.” Miguel scrutinized their reactions, and their shared sly glance told him more than their words would.

“We really can’t say…” Cecilia trailed off, smiling apologetically with wide eyes, “You understand?”

Her sympathetic look drove him crazy. If it was an unlucky draw, he wanted to prove her wrong. “Is that so? Then how about a bet?”

Taylor rolled her eyes, but Cecilia was curious. That was the foot in the stirrup he needed to give him a lift. “What kind of bet?”

“If I get 90 points or higher,” she raised her eyebrows in amusement, “then you owe me a dance, Cecilia.”

“And if you fall short or fall off? What do I get then?”

He narrowed his eyes, his brow pinching together. This was his trump card. “I’ll leave you alone, and I’ll tell all the other riders to leave you alone from here on out.”

Taylor snorted, “That’s a good deal.” 

“You’re on, Miguel.” Cecilia smiled like she already won. “I guess we’ll see tonight.”

“You will,” he promised with a wink. 

Miguel tipped his hat to them to leave, and as soon as he turned away another cocky rider approached. He stopped the man and leaned in close, his sunglasses sliding down his nose as he growled, “leave ‘em alone.” Intimidated, he backed off.

Peter covered Mayday’s ears to ask “What the hell was that?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “If I get 90 points or better, I’ve got a date tonight. If I don’t then I stay away.”

“What the hell was that?” Taylor whispered harshly in Cici’s ear. “You have a boyfriend, what are you going to do if he wins?”

Right. She may have let herself get carried away talking to Miguel. She never should have agreed to his bet but felt confident she would win.

Cici rolled her eyes. “He’s riding Fate. Sure, she’s a good horse, and he could score eighty points, but he has to be smart. She’s young, so he needs to set his feet and pick her up or she’ll move out down the arena. There’s no way he’ll beat ninety points.”

“What’re you two gossiping about?” Cici’s cousin, Gwen, plopped herself down beside them. She had plenty of time before she needed to dress and stretch for the barrel racing events, and she knew what it looked like when her friends were up to no good. 

Cici sighed and started to explain. “You know the bareback rider Miguel O’Hara?” 

“Who doesn’t?” Gwen’s eyes bulged out of her head. “Not only is he drop dead gorgeous, but he’s majorly talented, too. Some people say he could’ve won at the finals last year if he hadn’t dropped out.”

Taylor set her chili cheese dog aside, a pregnancy craving, and interjected. “Which is total bullshit by the way. It's a ten day competition and he left on day six. There’s no telling how far he could have gotten. For all we know he could have been bucked off before the whistle the following day.” Satisfied she made her point, she took another messy bite. 

“As I was saying,” she gave her sister-in-law a pointed look and handed her a napkin, “he introduced himself-”

“-Saying it was a pleasure to meet her.”

“And he was curious about the horse he drew to ride tonight. I couldn’t tell him anything, of course-”

“-of course.” Gwen giggled and rolled her eyes.

“But he must have read my expression because next thing I know, he’s betting he’ll get ninety points or more on Fate.”

“What does he want if he wins?” 

Cici sighed deeply, knowing this was the part that made her a fool. “He wants a dance…” She saw her cousin’s shocked expression and immediately tried to make it sound better than it did. “But if I win, which I know I will, he promised to leave me alone and get all the riders to stop pestering us for info.” 

“I don’t know, Cici. Sounds a little too good to be true to me.” Gwen shrugged, wanting to be supportive, but still doubtful.

“And what are you going to tell Josh?”

Right. Josh Miller, her boyfriend since sophomore year of college. They both pursued business degrees and met in their prerequisite courses. After graduation, he landed a job in the city while she started working for her father, making their relationship long-distance for the last two years. It was tough sometimes, but any relationship worth having took work.

“I’m not going to tell him anything because there will be nothing to tell,” Cici proclaimed confidently.

“And it would royally piss him off,” Gwen grumbled. 

Sometimes, Cici grew tired of defending him to her friends, but she always put on a brave face. After five years together, she liked to think she knew him better than they did. “Try to see it from his perspective. He lives three hours away, we don’t get to see each other often, and then I dance with some other guy. Who wouldn’t be a little jealous?”

“Jealous enough to track your location and call you when you go somewhere without telling him?”

“Jealous enough to curse you out over the phone?”

“Jealous enough to give you the silent treatment and then gaslight you into thinking you’re the jealous one?”

“Jealous enough to keep you from even hanging out with us outside the rodeo?

“Ugh, enough” Cici huffed, “he apologized, didn’t he? If that’s enough for me, it should be for you.”

Both girls stayed quiet knowing they pissed her off. But to them, they saw it as trying to help her. They could lead a horse to water, but they couldn’t make her drink.

***

Cici jokingly referred to the national anthem as the cue for the bareback riders. Traditionally, it was the first event of the night and came after the flag bearers and the grand entry. She felt the familiar twinge of excitement, a quick beating of her heart, as the lights dimmed in the stadium. Everyone stood for the opening strains of the anthem, including Cici, and she watched the flag bearers come thundering out.

Her father and brother were by the chutes, and Gwen was getting dressed and stretching, so it was just her, her mother, and Taylor in the Anderson section of seats. She thought about just a few years ago when they would be gathered together to watch Nick compete in the bareback rides, but a knee injury bucked him out of riding. He started working more seriously for their father then, helping him now that he was getting older. 

She spotted Miguel sitting on top of chute number three, waiting for the right time to settle onto Fate’s back. He wore starched jeans under his simple tan leather chaps, and a blue and red shirt tucked into those jeans highlighting the narrowness of his waist. Looking down the chute, his pale hat covered his face, but she could see the tension in his shoulders. Miguel rolled his shoulders back and forth, trying to release some of that tension.

The first rider had a good, clean time. Nothing remarkable, no flashy spur strokes, but controlled sweeps. A solid run that earned him 75 points. The second got overconfident, and when he reached for her neck he found nothing but air. His foot swung over the horse’s neck as she dropped her nose, ducked back to the left, and launched him ass over heels.

Bareback riding was one of the more finicky and dangerous events of rodeo as the best rides straddled the thin line between going big or going home. Judges wanted to see long, flashy spur strokes, but riders needed to stay centered and get their boot heels firmly planted in the horse’s neck before its front feet hit the ground on the next jump. The harder or the fiercer the horse bucked, the bigger the score. The rider was rewarded for opening up and taking chances unless he fell over that line and lost control.

The first cowboy played it too safe, and the second fast and loose.

“Coming out of chute number three…” Cici’s pulse quickened, “Miguel O’Hara!” The chute gate banged open and the crowd roared when he came out on Fate. He would only have eight seconds to do ninety points or nothing.

With her first move out of the chute, Miguel’s legs snapped straight, his heels planted solidly in the hollow where her neck met her shoulder. Fate responded by dropping her head and kicking high. For the next two, three, four jumps, Fate barely moved from the spot as Miguel lifted her straight in the air, his spurs rolling clear back to his rigging. His fringed chaps beat like the wings of a bird, daring them to go higher and higher.

“Holy shit,” Taylor murmured beside her.

The buzzer sounded at precisely eight seconds, and the pickup men closed in, setting Miguel safely on the ground. Overhead, the big screen replayed the ride in slow motion. Miguel stopped walking to the chutes and turned to watch. Cici wondered if he was mentally calculating his score like she did. 

“The judges have awarded 92 points to Miguel O’Hara, easily making him the top scorer of the night! Let’s see if he can keep that title before the end of the night.”

Taylor leaned over so Cici’s mother couldn’t hear. “Looks like you’re going dancing tonight.”

***

Cici watched from the side as the press swarmed Miguel at the end of the night. They all wanted to get a snappy quote from the highest scorer, and he greeted them with a pretty smile. Miguel locked eyes with her as he spoke, and blood rushed to her cheeks. Thank God she wore enough makeup so he couldn’t see.

“I guess it was a good turn of Fate,” he winked at the camera, but she knew it was meant for her. “I had to convince her a little, she’s young and shy of course, but she responded well to me.”

“How appropriate is it that your first horse back is called Fate?” Journalists never could resist a good story.

“I’m hoping it’s a sign of good things to come.”

“We hope so as well. Thank you, that was Miguel O'Hara, everyone who’s just tuning in, top scorer here tonight in Fort Worth.”

Cici spoke to several camera crews as well, giving the perspective of a contractor. Miguel waited until the journalists cleared out and the cowboys and cowgirls left to talk to her. He walked with extra pep in his slightly bow-legged step, a certain swagger in his hips. 

“It seems like Fate wanted you and I to dance,” he quipped. 

“Ha ha, very funny.” Cici rolled her eyes. “But seriously, good job out there. I thought she was an eighty at best, and you proved me wrong. Not many can say that.”

Miguel looked at her seriously, a little furrow between his brows. “Thank you.”

“Now about that dance…” his dark brown eyes lit up when she mentioned their dance, a flicker of gold across the smooth darkness. “I know what you’re thinking-” 

“-Uh huh, and what am I thinking?”

“I know cowboys like you, and you all think the same thing.” Cici made it a rule not to date cowboys. “If you give me enough drinks, if you rope me into one more dance, then I’ll go back to whatever motel you’re staying at, or even in the cab of your truck, and not call me in the morning like you promised.”

“Ouch,” Miguel pouted, “been burned by the rope before?”

“Nope, and I never will. I have a boyfriend, and I don’t date cowboys.”

He looked her up and down, from her high heels to her pink headband, his eyes lingering somewhere in the middle. “That’s a damn shame.”

“You can have one dance,” she held up her finger, “at a bar of my choice, with the understanding that it will lead to nothing more.”

“Why bother then?”

She looked him square in the eye. “I won’t have it said that Cici Anderson doesn’t fulfill her bets. If you want your dance, you’ll meet me tonight at Lone Star.”

“It’ll be later tonight,” he stumbled over his words, “I need to shower and change before I go anywhere.”

“Don’t worry. Did you think I’d go dancing in these shoes?”

Miguel showered and shaved back at his motel. He didn’t want to smell like horse and dirt when he showed up. He rifled through his suitcase, wishing he packed a better selection of clothes and settled on a simple black button-down shirt, clean bootcut jeans, and his least dusty pair of boots. Looking in the mirror, he ran a handful of gel through his hair and spritzed himself with cologne. 

He struggled to find a spot in the crowded parking lot, but he found one in the back corner. Miguel hesitated to cut the engine and get out. What if she wasn’t there? What if he made a fool out of himself? She already told him it wasn’t going to lead to anything, but he wanted his dance. He earned it. 

His watch buzzed on his wrist, alerting him of an incoming call from his brother. He smiled and answered. Miguel could hear Gabriel crunching chips and playing a video game in the background, and it grated on him.  

“Fucking kid. You better not be gaming and snacking again because I am not taking apart another controller because you got crumbs stuck in it.”

Gabriel paused mid-chew, talking over the food in his mouth. “What happened to hello? How are you? My name is?”

Miguel laughed and sighed, reminding himself that Gabriel was fifteen. “Hello? How are you?”

“Better now that you’re asking. Thanks for the pizza by the way. I’d save you the leftovers, but there won’t be any.”

“Well with your taste I’m not worried. You probably put pineapple on it.” He grimaced at the thought of it.

“I did, and it was delicious. Now are you gonna tell me how you did or keep me in suspense?”

Miguel kept an eye on the parking lot, wondering if Cici was already there, waiting for him or taking her time to get ready. “Top scorer of the night, and I wasn’t sure when I watched a couple of the other guys.”

Gabriel laughed, and for a moment Miguel thought about how his laugh changed. He remembered Gabriel’s giggle as a baby. “You were moping around here for a week, nervous to even go, and look.”

“Maybe it was fate,” Miguel snorted, “that was the horse’s name.”

“Ha ha, maybe, but it was you, too.” There was a pause, neither brother was sure what to say to the other. “What are you gonna do now?”

“Well, I'm sitting in the parking lot of a bar right now, so I think I'm going to celebrate a little.”

“A little? You have free reign right now. I’m home, fed, and know not to open the door for strangers. Go nuts.”

Miguel spotted a baby pink BMW convertible pull into the lot, and he knew without seeing any faces it was Cici. No one but the princess would drive that car. Somehow, she found a parking spot near the door and wasted no time pulling in. He watched her check her hair and makeup in the mirror, turning to her friends for confirmation. Satisfied, she cut the engine and left, not bothering to put the top down given the drought. 

“Hello?” Gabriel let the “o” drag out, “You there?”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm here. But not for much longer,” he grumbled. 

“Have fun, be safe, don't make me an uncle before my time!” Gabriel ended the call before Miguel could call him out. He thought about sending him a text, but he didn’t even know what he would say. Instead, he waited a few minutes before entering the bar. Too soon, and it would look like he waited for her, and he certainly wasn’t doing that.

Lone Star was like every other bar rodeo goers frequented, and it wasn’t the type of place he expected a princess like Cici Anderson to frequent. Parts of the floor were sticky as he walked, letters flickered out on neon signs, and a jukebox played old country songs. He ordered a beer on tap from the bartender, wanting the foam on top that he couldn’t get from a bottle, and retreated to a dark corner. 

Cici sat at a high table, one half booth and one half chairs, which made him think of an island. Taylor sat across from her, and a friend sat beside her. He thought he recognized her from the barrel racing, but out of uniform, he couldn’t tell. Cici laughed with them, little creases by her eyes and her head thrown back. He wanted to know the joke so he could make her smile like that. 

Her friend whispered something in her ear, and she turned ever so slowly and subtly to the side to look. Cici spotted him, hiding by a collection of decorative license plates mounted on the wall, and smiled. She bobbed her head up to him in greeting. He tipped his hat to do the same. Miguel made no move to join her, so she beckoned him with her dainty little manicured hand. How could he refuse?

“This is nice, you’ve got your own little spot-” He pulled back one of the chairs.

“-Stand,” Cici’s friend directed.

Miguel frowned, looking at Cici. “What?”

“You have to stand. All men who approach the gals table have to stand. They can’t sit down; they have to stay on their toes, ready to leave if they piss us off,” she clarified. 

Damn. He didn’t realize describing it as an island was so accurate. “Can I at least set my beer on the table, or will you make me hold that, too?”

“Hmm,” she pretended to deliberate, “you can set your drink down, but if you touch the food you’re done.”

He put on a thick southern drawl, “Yes ma’am. I understand.”

“Good, I’d hate to see you kicked out. 

***

Miguel was a good sport. He stood, occasionally shifting his weight from one foot to another, but he never complained. He didn’t want to risk being voted off the island. As promised, he never laid a finger on their food, no matter how tempting the loaded fries, mozzarella sticks, and buffalo wings looked, and he tried to listen more than he spoke. But he just couldn’t help himself from getting into trouble. 

It started when he watched Cici walk to the bar for another drink. Miguel told himself it was to make sure no creeps hit on her, but he was the one thinking about how her ass jiggled in that baby pink dress she wore. Each cheek must be more than a handful, and he wanted to feel her spilling over his fingers.

But, she has a boyfriend, he reminded himself, and she doesn’t date cowboys.

Cici took a sip of her drink before she left the bar. She nodded once to herself, pleased with the taste, and returned to the island. Miguel looked at her drink, wrinkled his nose, and asked, “What is that?”

She grinned mischievously. “Sex on the beach. You want a taste?”

He pressed his lips to the lipstick mark she left on the rim of the glass. It was fruity and sweet, almost overwhelmingly so, but he tasted something bitter too, lying just underneath. So perfectly Cici.

“I should’ve expected the princess would have some fruity little drink,” he teased.

Cici rolled her eyes. “My fruity little drink has more kick than your little beer.”

“If you want something with kick, you should be drinking tequila.”

Gwen talked through a mouthful of mozzarella stick. “Is that a suggestion for shots? Count me in!”

Cici looked at him with challenge and trouble in her eyes. “If we’re doing shots, then Miguel, you need to take two to get on our level. Those beers aren’t gonna cut it.” Miguel never could resist a dare. After all, it was a bet that brought him there in the first place. 

He spoke to the bartender to get four shots — one for Cici, one for Gwen, and two for him — and another Dr. Pepper for Taylor. Miguel tapped his knuckles against the bar and looked over his shoulders as he waited for them to be poured. A group of guys at the bar were too rowdy for his taste, and they certainly weren’t slowing down when the bartender served them another round. He ought to keep an eye on them. Bull riders with money burning a hole in their pockets and more alcohol in their veins than blood were trouble. 

Gwen wolf-whistled when he brought back the drinks, making him blush and tip his head. Miguel lined up the shots on the table, the glasses tiny in his hands, and he passed the soda to Taylor. She hadn’t asked for a refill, but he saw her cup was nearly empty. 

“Cheers”, they all said as they clinked their glasses together. They tapped the bottom of the glass against the table before drinking it. Miguel set his aside and moved his second in front of him. 

“Cheers,” he smiled wolfishly before repeating. 

“Now we’re even.”

The ladies finished off the last of their appetizers, and Miguel caved and ordered wings after looking longingly at them for the last half hour. Cici switched to strawberry lemonade for the time being, not wanting to get too drunk, but enjoying the slight floaty feeling. 

Miguel got up to get another beer, and she noticed him talking to the bartender longer than it would take to say “Another Modelo, please,” and Cici wondered what he was up to. He returned, careful not to lean on the table and upset it with his size, and he sipped his beer. The Shania Twain song faded, and when a piano flourish started to play, Miguel half grinned, confident but trying to hide it. 

“I think it’s time for our dance, princess.”

Cici deliberated for a moment, recognizing the song and trying to remember the name of it. “If you think so.” Miguel offered his hand when she left the bench seat, and she tried not to think about how his hand dwarfed hers and his rough calluses against her soft palm.

He led her to the center of the makeshift dance floor where several couples paused, unsure how to dance to the song. One of his strong hands snaked toward her waist and the other held her hand. They stood close together — another step and they would be pressed chest to chest — and she wondered if her head would fit under his chin. Cici stood tall, especially in the heels Josh didn’t like her to wear, but Miguel stood taller. 

“Just follow my lead,” he whispered, “and try not to step on my toes with your heels.”

Cici reached up to rest her unoccupied hand on his shoulder. The muscle flexed and twitched under her delicate touch. She didn’t mind his hand on her waist, he kept a respectful distance between them, and if anything, it helped him guide her. But she couldn’t ignore how warm his hand felt against her. 

“Did you have to request Dos Gardenias?” Cici’s foot followed his, carefully avoiding his toes as he pleaded, and matching the song’s tempo with her hips. 

Miguel was a large, sturdy man, but just like in his riding, he could move lightly and gracefully. His lips twitched as they turned, “I’m surprised you know the song.”

“I’m full of surprises, but evidently so are you.”

He raised his arm and adjusted his hand so Cici could spin out. She did, letting the dim light of the bar shimmer across her satin dress. Cici caught Taylor and Gwen’s wicked grins and raised brows when she spun. She ignored them, knowing they would have plenty of time to talk. 

Miguel quickly responded, increasing the cadence of their dance. “I like surprises, and I like surprising people.” Sweat dotted his temples and his hairline. Cici wondered if he felt the heat growing between them, and she reminded herself the air conditioning here could barely fight the Texas heat.

She slipped her hand back in his, his fingers curling against hers. “It’s a good thing those go hand in hand.” Cici tilted her head up. 

The words never left his mouth, but his molten eyes spoke for him. Almost as if it was Fate. The final chorus of the song played through the cheap speakers. He clicked his tongue against his teeth. Miguel’s voice was soft, but his eyes turned playful, a subtle twinkle in the deep brown. “Do you trust me?” Cici nodded, trying not to show how breathless he and the dance made her. “Fuck, pretty, I need to hear you.”

She meant it when she said, “I trust you.” 

“Good.” Miguel’s grip on her tightened. One hand held her waist while the other her back. Cici stretched her arm across his broad shoulders, and she let herself be supported by him as he dipped her.

They stayed nose to nose as her back went parallel to the floor, close enough to kiss, but Miguel never did. Cici felt his breath ghost upon his lips. She smelled the tequila and beer, but underneath it something cleaner, fresher, like his minty toothpaste and soap.

Cici trusted him not to drop her or cross her boundaries, and he respected her wishes. Miguel held her there for three seconds, but it felt longer when she admired his face. She had never been this close, and now she could see all the subtle imperfections. A cut by his lip, the sharp points of his canines, the lines etched on his forehead, and the dark marks under his eyes. They made him human. 

The song ended, and Miguel brought her right side up. Blood rushed to her face, fueling the flame she felt. She excused herself, and Gwen and Taylor were quick to follow. Cici left Miguel on the dance floor with his hands in his pockets.

“Did you grab my purse?” Her voice shook.

“Here,” Taylor thrust it into her hands, “I have to pee again.”

“Baby still kicking your bladder?” Gwen asked, leaning against the double sink counter.

Taylor spoke from the stall, unashamed with her family. “Yeah, he better be one hell of an athlete with all this kicking.”

“Or a dancer, he could be a dancer,” Gwen teased.

Cici rifled through her purse for her touch-up makeup. Immediately after grabbing her powder, she dropped it and searched for the brush. She would feel better, calmer, and more composed once she fixed her makeup. 

Taylor laughed. “Both would be nice. What about those football players who do ballet for their training?”

“Or the riders who do yoga to stretch?” Gwen chimed in, “It’s time to think beyond traditional gender roles.”

Cici dropped her lipstick, lucky the purse caught it instead of the floor. “What is wrong with me?”

“Oh, are we talking about it now? I’ve been waiting all day to talk about it.” Taylor washed her hands in the sink next to her, exaggerating her facial expressions in the mirror. 

“I told him I have a boyfriend. He knows this. He respects this. But he still makes me feel so-”

“Bubbly?”

“Jittery?”

Feverish. Charged. Wanted. Protected. “Something like that,” Cici sighed, leaning in to re-curl her eyelashes.

 Taylor dried her hands and stayed in front of the mirror, leaning on Cici’s shoulder. “He’s hot. It’s only natural. And now that you’ve fulfilled your bet you can tell him to fuck off if you want.”

“True,” Gwen held the fragile pink bottle of perfume for Cici, “we can always kick him off the island.” 

But Miguel didn’t do anything to deserve getting kicked out so cruelly. It was not his fault she felt this way. She simply needed to control herself and remind herself of her boyfriend she loved very much. Cici sent him a text saying he could call her later, or she might call him because she missed the sound of his voice.

“Are you ready?” Taylor rested her hands under her growing bump, something she did more often by the week.

“Almost,” Cici took the perfume from Gwen’s hand and spritzed it generously, “now I am.”

Miguel watched her hurry off, her friends following close behind, and he tried not to let it sting him. His heart threatened to beat out of his chest, and he wanted to reach out for her. He picked up his beer from the table and stalked off to the pool tables, ready to do as he said and leave her alone. Their deal was finished, and he earned his points and his prize, but he felt hollow. 

The rowdy bull riders he saw at the bar congregated around the tables, and they invited Miguel to play. Typically, Miguel did not enjoy their company, but he thought in their inebriated state he could get away with “mhm” and “uhuh” until he was sober enough to drive back to his motel. They commended him on his straight shot and his ride, and he muttered quiet thanks, trying not to draw attention to himself.

It did not take long for them to change the subject, discussing the various girls across the bar and who they thought they had a shot with. If their game was like the way they played pool, they would be alone. Miguel stayed silent, not wishing to be part of their conversation. 

But, of course, they had to drag him into it. “What’s up with you and Anderson? You going back with her tonight?”

“She looked like putty in your arms. If you’d’ve kissed her I bet you’d be fucking in the bathroom right now.”

“Watch your mouth,” Miguel growled. He bent over the pool table, crouched like a panther ready to pounce. 

“What dude? It’s not like I’m into her or anything. She’s not my type, too heavy, but hey, if that’s your thing then go for it.”

“You can always hit it then quit it.”

“Or, I mean c’mon, she’s an Anderson. Use that to your advantage.”

Miguel stood up straight, tapping the pool stick on the wooden floor. “I told you the first time you disrespected her. You continued.” His voice was as rough as gravel. “I won’t tell you again.”

They muttered their apologies, but Miguel knew it wasn’t him they should be telling. It was Cici, but she shouldn’t know what they said. It would only make her sad, or upset, and Miguel didn’t want to do that to her. He looked for her across the bar, at their island. He saw Gwen and Taylor, but he didn’t see Cici. Miguel wandered off to a high two-top table, sipping on a Coke, and tapping his knuckles against the slanted, sticky table. 

He assumed she would be right back, powdering her nose or whatever ladies did, but he still didn’t see her. Miguel hoped to say goodbye and goodnight before he left. He settled his tab with the bartender, and he asked for the Anderson tab too.

“Are you sure?” the bartender asked. With multiple cocktails and appetizers, it wasn’t as cheap as beer and soda. Earlier, he split the shots between them, but it all came out the same in the end.

“Yeah, and when she asks for it, give her this copy of the receipt.”

He signed at the bottom, leaving a generous tip, and flipped it over. Thank you, he wrote, and on impulse, he scrawled his phone number too. With one final glance at their island, and still not seeing her, he decided it was time to head out. 

Miguel found Cici out in the parking lot. She leaned against her car, holding her cellphone to her ear, and she kept her head down. Cici didn’t see him, so he stayed by the door to listen.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffled between her words, “I know you don’t like it when I hang out with them, but they’re my family. What do you want me to do? Not see my family?”

Crickets chirped and the music from the bar spilled outside, filling the awkward silence while she listened to the person on the other end of the line. 

“You’re right, Josh, I should’ve told you I was going out with them. But it was a special occasion, last minute, and-”

Josh. Her boyfriend, he guessed, and he must not be a cowboy because she doesn’t date cowboys. Miguel wondered what Josh was like. He must be jealous, by the sound of it, and controlling. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I ruined your night… I love you.”

Cici ended the call and tipped her head up to the sky. The stars twinkled above, the moon finally came out to play, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. She took deep breaths in and out, wiping away tears with the tips of her fingers. Then, she looked at the door and jumped.

“Fuck, sorry, you scared me.”

He knew better given his size and stature. He knew people crossed the street when they saw him coming, clutched their keys tight, and never let him out of their sight. In the dark by the door, his shadow intimidated. 

Bashfully, Miguel stepped into the light. “You don’t need to apologize to me. I shouldn’t have eavesdropped there.” Silence crept between them, keeping them an arm’s length apart. Miguel uncrossed his arms, and Cici stepped closer. “But, for what it’s worth, it sounds like he should apologize to you.”

Cici exhaled, shuddering, and tears welled in her eyes. Miguel didn’t know what he should do, but he knew what he wanted to do. Protect her. Comfort her. Hold her. But, that’s not his place, he bitterly reminded himself. Josh, the one who made her cry, should be the one consoling her.

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him closer than when they danced. Her head notched under his chin, fitting them together like two broken puzzle pieces. He sniffed her addictive floral perfume in her hair and memorized the press of her soft body before she could pull away from him. Miguel barely heard her whisper into his shoulder, but he did. 

“Thank you… just, thank you.”

He took one last look at her, shining under the mix of starlight and parking lot floodlights. Cici’s eyes were glassy, her hair flattened from the heat, and her makeup smudged, but there was something intimately vulnerable and gorgeous. Miguel walked away before he could say something stupid they would both regret. Something like… Your boyfriend sucks. You deserve better. I’m sorry you have to deal with that. Let me treat you better.

He shook his head as if he could shake all those thoughts from him. The more he thought about her that way, the stronger those feelings would grow. It was better to drop everything now, keep to his word, and leave her alone. 

Miguel sat in his truck, unsure if he should drive back yet. Was he drunk on her or the drinks? If it came to it, he could sleep in the cabin or the bed of the truck. He kept a pillow and blanket tucked under the passenger seat, just in case. It wouldn’t be the first time, and he doubted it would be the last. He set a timer and closed his eyes. He’d be sobered up when it went off and could drive back to his motel. 

With his hat over his eyes, it was dark enough for him to doze off. But before he did, he swore that if he closed his eyes and focused, he could smell her perfume, feel her weight in his arms, and hear her laugh and say his name.

Fuck, he was in trouble.

Next chapter

taglist: @Kay.dot @tojishugetiddies

[quandaryqueen]

Butterflies

Year One Jonathan Crane X Reader

Set in the "Evermore" universe, I'd like to write more wholesome, sweet relationship between the two to quell you of the angst that happened to them. Also, note that these mostly take place in their college professor days.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Also writing it because I just got a shot off fluff in my veins and I'd like to share them with y'all. I was listening to Mitski's "Me and my husband" then suddenly boom, this:

🧡 Professor Crane and Professor Crane, teach psychology and literature respectively. It might be confusing to some students, so you opted to go as Professor Y/N instead to make it easier, much to Jonathan's chagrin because it really does mean to him that you have his last name.

Not that you entirely changed it back, but it irked him a little. Why can't the little rascals differentiate you instead? But of course, you care about the students so he lets you be.

🧡 Let's get this out of the way, some of students ship you intensely. Romeo and Juliet? Edward and Bella? Fuck no, I want what these bitch have.

"Ugh, look at them," dreamily sighs a student amongst her table of close friends.

They follow her gaze, landing on their Professors, who is probably bickering about what to buy for lunch, whilst holding hands. They too find themselves sighing dreamily and staring at them.

🧡 Whenever he's grading papers, he'd be complaining about the students, ranting about how some of them had the audacity to bribe him.

"Hear this, Miss Giovanna had the gall to show her face at the faculty office demanding I give her the points she 'deserves'! Children these days, have they no decorum?"

"Mhmm..." You sleepily nodded, resisting the urge to doze off whilst in the middle of a conversation. Though, you find the pleasure to rest your head in a nestle out of your arms atop your husband's desk.

"Additionally, I've yet to mark her as present in any of my classes! Nor has she passed any of the assignments—" Jonathan halts, his attention snagged by your sleeping figure on his desk. He sighs. "Just as I was about to get to the good parts. Oh well."

He sets his pen aside for a moment to drape a blanket atop your shoulder before returning to his pile of papers.

🧡 You know how some students would fucking want to sleep with their professors for some ungodly reasons? Yeah.

"Repulsive," cringed Jonathan, causing you to wrap your arms around his neck whilst he grades papers.

"What's wrong?" You asked, your fingers finding its way through his hair and lightly scratching his scalp.

On one of the papers, written in pink ink, "Call me ;)" then a set of numbers.

"Oh." You sighed, just as repulsed as your husband. "Can't blame them, Professor Crane is quite the dashing one~"

Jonathan rolls his eyes at your remark, holding back the smile of flattery. "Oh please, clearly this student is desperate for extra credentials to survive this semester."

Or alternatively:

"Typical that freshmen won't break out of their high school mentality just yet. They travel around in flocks to single out an individual. Makes it the more difficult to get through places, the reprobates do tend to clog the corridors." Jonathan mutters to himself.

And it was fucking Valentine's Day. As if things couldn't get more annoying.

He arrives at the faculty office and immediately noticed your table practically overflowing with gifts, that he didn't spot you sitting behind your desk.

"Jon!" You call out enthusiastically, rising from your seat to skip beside him, before scooping him up for an embrace, peppering his face with kisses while you were at it.

In light of the commercialised holiday, you were more affectionate with him. Holiday spirits, he supposes... Though, he's not complaining. He hides his smile through a grumpy frown, turning his face away. Thankfully, none of the other professors were there. He'd cultivated his reputation, and he can't let them know how much of a softie he is for you.

"I honestly can't wait for tonight!" You finally stop with the kisses, but your arms remain around his neck.

"I noticed." He flatly remarks. He then point his attention to your table that is, again, flowing with gifts. Flick a match at it and your table will go off in flames so easily.

"Yeah, um... I guess they're desperate for extra credits from me too." You sheepishly chuckle.

"No I don't believe they need extra credit from literature of all classes." He narrowed his gaze at your table, perhaps taking names from whom did you receive those gifts and... Deal with them. Personally.

"Are you jealous?" You raise a brow at him.

"No, I'm your husband." Though it was an unintentional dad joke, he finds himself shaking his head when that pulled a giggle out of you.

"Yes, you are." Your finger light flick at the tip of his nose with a giggle. He rolls his eyes at the childish gesture. "And I think half of these gifts are of platonic love. Just appreciating their loveliest, most angelic teacher. And if they aren't, well I'd turn them down. Because I'm married," you flash his your hand, fluttering your fingers where your wedding band glimmers under the light. "And I'm married to you."

Another kiss landed on him, on his lips this time. God you best be thankful you're his spouse.

🧡 👏Jacket👏Sharing👏

"I didn't expect it to be this cold. Is it October already?"

"I'm afraid it is, dear."

"Heh... Autumn air certainly hits different in Georgia then." You chuckle to yourself, rubbing your arms, when a coat lands atop your shoulders. You look up at your husband, who then looked away from you, whilst supressing a besotted smile. "Oh you absolute softie..." You tease, nudging him by the arm before shrugging his coat on.

🧡 He's clingy and he doesn't want to admit it. Well, not that much as he'd state something along the lines of, "I recognise you as your own person, therefore I needn't be attached to at all times even if we are betrothed."

But then you left him for like a week when you were required to get out of the city for your seminars in the university and when you got home you walked in on him like this:

"Woe is me my feathered friend," sighs Jonathan, resting his head in a nestle of his arms by the window ledge. The aforementioned feathered friend came at the form of a crow perched a few inches away from him. "One has not truly suffered if they've not felt the extent of the saturnine silence from the absence of their other half... And I thought I've felt agony at its finest under that wench of a woman's thumb."

"Caw!"

"I concur."

And then when he realised you're there he acts as though the 'lovely feeling of solitary retreat' is now gone and you've ruined it. But you know 😄 We do stan a histrionic king.

🧡 Clings to you in his sleep, so I guess he's the big spoon. You'd feel his arms around you tightening at the smallest movement, groaning and nuzzling his face against your back. But there are times where he also wants to be held, engulfed in your arms, head buried in your chest.

🧡 Hand holding with you is the most calming, most therapeutic thing he has. In public, during walks, sex, etc. It's a feeling that grounds him, reminds him that you're there for him, just as he is for you. Affections are reserved at the privacy of your shared residence, but he likes to hold your hand when you're outside.

🧡 He is highly sentimental. Every letters, gifts, to the random things you give to him that you happen to pick up during walks, photographs... The way he also details every moment with you in his journals in a passing manner.

🧡 Being there comforting whenever he'd have flashbacks and nightmares from when he still lived with his absuive great grandmother. At this times, he liked being held, the warmth and firmness of your hold is what keeps him grounded in reality, along with your sweet whisper against his ear, telling him you were never going to leave him and that his great grandmother was no longer there to hurt him.

🧡 Sharing each others wardrobe is common. Some students can easily identify you wearing Professor Crane's sweater vest whilst he wore your tie. At some instances during chaperoning students at a foreign country where the weather is cold, some of them audibly "awwwwed" when you lent him a coat. They were met with threats of demerits, courtesy of Professor Jonathan.

🧡 Date nights are mandatory every one in a month, just a simple dinner date is the best way to unwind from work. Not only that, it was always at the time where your monthsaries occur, so that's also a plus. He always greets you with gifts spanning from practical gifts, the traditional flowers and sweets, to your interests.

🧡 Sometimes he would be caught in a daze with you in his line of sight, something that typically occurs when you're grading papers together. He has yet to comprehend that he finally had taken the reigns of his own life and paved his own path, leading to you— a spouse of course, peaceful residence where he awoke and first thing he sees is you, a stable job he loves where you happen to be doing the same as well... It was a course his younger self would have never thought his life would turn to, as he mostly thought about perhaps being outlived by his great granny.

Because of this, he cherished every moment with you, as you were always there in his every step of life and wants nothing more than you spend the rest of his life with you by his side.

[idle-muses]

Hoard of information for Reiwa for a single layout.

With longer explanation of his Narrative + Soft Canon AU below the cut cause it's alot, but charts and things above are an easy glance!

NAME: (Master) Reiwa 励和 [encourage / inspire + harmony] AGE/APPARENT AGE: 67 / Looks about 27 as that's his current halfbreed maturity HEIGHT: 6’6 SPECIES/RACE: Half Human (Japanese/Mediterranean) + Half Demon 天使 (Tenshi) Classification PRONOUNS: He/Him ORIENTATION: Bisexual / Demiromantic BIRTHDAY: Jul 1st, 1939 HAIR/EYE/SKIN COLOR: Pink/Sakura/Carnation hair, curled/wavy like his mother's - (With Glasses On - eyes are Chestnut)/(Without Glasses you’ll notice they’re a sharp Red) - Naturally Tanned/ light-brownish closer to his father's complexion Favorite things: Cooking / Gardening / Tai Chi / Being around people / Sparring or Physical exercise / Animals / Laying in the sun and napping / Giraffes Least Favorite things: Drinking / Fighting (Having Actual Violent Intent) / Anything that takes his sense of control from him (Without his consent) / Having his ears touched without warning (They’re sensitive due to the charms) / Doesn’t like overly violent movies Original Lore Information: Reiwa is from a version of Yu Yu Hakusho known as The Bittersweet AU. Explained below the cut in full; Those bulletpoints are very tame and lax compared to the scale of violence that was present in his series. [Short explanation OG Series is like 13+, Bittersweet is 18+ for more dangerous content/violence/consequence due to Healing Abilities.]

Personality and things used for icebreakers: Reiwa as a character is a bit of a strange one, as on the surface he is easily mistaken for a very ‘happy and bright’ personality and very polite in conversation with respectful honorifics or terms at all times. He’ll usually be trying to be chipper or funny, and make sure everyone around him is okay. Usually though, his internal thoughts can be pretty dour or self isolating;; he wasn’t always like this and he’s just putting on a face to be ‘normal’ as he was before. The Gauntlet events fucked up his emotional health to a drastic degree. His mother can pin those thoughts down without issue and will usually pry it outta him; without her it became more difficult to manage who to burden those thoughts with. When push comes to shove however, his personality can swap easily into a much more serious demeanour - something more focused and responsible than his usual joking would assume. He’s very very good in dangerous situations for this reason, and hardly ever panics when things are happening. ((If it relates to him however and his structure of control, there will be some internal panic))

For icebreakers, you can just generally say ‘Hello!’ to him and he’ll find something to talk about. He likes to get to know people, but it does take a good deal of trust to see his more serious side of conversation for how he really is. -- also the spoken version of Rei is a joke for the pun of 霊 (Rei; Spirit) but his name is spelled with 励 (Encourage/Inspire)

Any additional information!: Part of him is able to naturally ‘pacify’ emotions (Not take them away, but to feel comfortable around him) as his overbearing Ki (That is mostly locked behind 4 Ofuda Charm Earrings, two the shell of each ear, with normal accessory on the earlobe) naturally has some calming effect on most people. This is his influence of his desire to ‘help’ or ‘protect’ someone. If he were to lose these Earrings, his control on his abilities would start to go a bit haywire and his own mental state would probably have a hard time of it as well (depending how many are lost) as he quite literally cannot contain the amount of energy that he has and that is the problem. If he were to lose all 4 then he would be put into his full ‘demon’ state and it would take the most self-control he can muster to keep from being a danger to those around him. Reiwa has a human heart, and if that is taken from him [as it has been in The Gauntlet] He will lose all rational ability and become a True/Full Demon. (This in essence will turn his personality into cold, selfish, and revels in the joy of violence and power; just like his father had been corrupted by his own Demon Wish.)

Though he is not a fighter, but he is trained in combat by his mother. His skills lie in Reiki Healing, and Youki Healing. This is his primary role through the series, oftentimes working alongside Yukina - Or instead being in situations in place of her where she would not be safe otherwise (Non-Canon Content). Smaller tidbits of these abilities are used within his healing, mending, and defensive skills.

The two clasps on the shells of his ears are Limiters for all forms of his Energy. He never takes them off, and some of them are sealed with the help of his mother’s incantations. With all limiters removed, he is above S+ Class Demon. (Given the non-canon classification of Tenshi 天使 )

His ‘Demon From’ (Which has very little sense of moral control and is actively detrimental to himself and those around him) is more aptly described as ‘An Entity that warps perception’. Being as overpowering as his spirit energy is in the human world, he quite literally cannot be allowed to do that there. This version of him is what Genkai has tried to lock away.

Below is Yu Yu Hakusho Specific information; if you don't know the series then this won't make sense to you sorry \o/

-The AU is called Bittersweet; For all intent and purpose imagine the ‘’Film Rating’’ to be 16 or 18+ for Extreme cases of violence, gore, dark themes (Such as Death/Dismemberment / mental scarring / trauma and traumatic breaks / imprisonment / forced combat to name a few) - There is no Sexual Content. (Similar in function to the YYH Live Action)

-Canon events from start to finish remain unchanged and character arcs are untouched. (Or in some cases further developed/expanded on) →‘’Villains’’ are still defeated by their original victor. Example of above; Despite Reiwa’s inclusion in the Dark Tournament the events are unchanged of who fights who and why - Kuwabara still ‘plays dead’ and Yusuke still defeats Toguro. → Changes are small and simply expand on events and character interactions/development are added.

-Additional Arcs are included between others [Or in Addition too] to provide breathing room and levity to the change in ‘rating’ quality. Hence the name Bittersweet.

--

Reiwa as a character is not introduced into the narrative until just before Yusuke goes to see Genkai for the first time.

They come across each other during the testing, and He’s introduced as Genkai’s groundskeeper. He does not interfere with events. Botan 100% already knows what’s up but says nothing. They’re dorky friends who >:3c at everyone.

Reiwa at this time is just over 50 in human years, but due to demon genetics he would be closer placed towards 17. Similar notes toward Hiei if that helps (Who is similar in age being about 48-50 as well, but racially 15-16) -> It is also noted that the cast ages have been adjusted to start at 17 ending at early 20s, as opposed to being 14 as is canon.

Within the story Reiwa serves as a sort of ‘chill mentor’ towards both Ivy and Yusuke - and 100% the wingman for relationships offering advice from his many [Offscreen] relationships before the series starts. This won’t be expanded in the short summary.

Additional Arcs are created for Training for the cast; usually with Genkai passing the gang off on ‘easy training’ with Reiwa. It’s not. He’s almost as bad as she is. Even with limited power he, at that point, still outclasses most of them. (He is unable to structure this power into proper fighting use without testing his control over it. He does not often participate in combat.) His training is for patience, self healing, and spiritual control.

More soft arcs and characterization between the cast, good happy things, balances out the violence of minor Spirit Detective Arcs against rogue Demons.

-

Events remain relatively unchanged until the Dark Tournament. The structure of how and why they go there is unchanged. Reiwa accompanies as part of the Team Urameshi Medical Unit.

Up to this point Reiwa has not known directly who his father is, it is only on meeting Toguro in the halls that his father recognizes him as Genkai’s child (It’s hard to ignore.) They do not know they’re parent and son.

The Dark Tournament takes place over a longer span of time with more smaller matches and fights. These include sub fights for the cast, as well as sub brackets other Canon Characters who are not on the team. More relationships are given time to develop. (Example being Jin and Touya given more screen time and development on fights of their own vs other teams.)

Genkai and Toguro have a short conversation in the halls where he puts two and two together that Reiwa is his son. There’s a monster’s pride in his smile.

-> It is noted that Toguro as a character has been more drastically altered by his 'Wish' to become a powerful Demon. His active humanity has atrophied due to this, and it is only in very specific moments that it shows through again [Such as his death]. It is only once he is no longer tainted by his ‘wish’ that he changes or understands properly what he’s done.

Kurama was near this conversation and knows, and discusses it with Genkai, wondering why she hadn’t told him. “How would you react if you learned the fantasy of a father your mother created was nothing more than heartless lies?” She had hoped to see some of that humanity still within the man she had loved. At this point, it was no longer there.

Events continue as expected; It is on the death of Genkai by Toguro’s hand that both Yusuke and Reiwa learn of their familial connection. Despite Reiwa’s ability to heal her, his mother denies it - not for a desire to die, but for a parental need to protect her child. As just from the small sparks of his spirit energy, his father is made instantly aware of the unimaginable scale of power his son could reach.

Toguro does not hold back in fighting his pacifist son alongside Yusuke, trying to force Reiwa to fight, and only earning disappointment at how 'weak' his supposed Child is.

“I expected better from you. Genkai was a fool to seal away your powers. - Don’t look at me with her eyes. My son is a coward and a waste of potential.”

Genkai dies watching Toguro beat their son to death, with Yusuke trying - and failing - to stop him.

Reiwa lives wholly on the fact that Yusuke takes one of the seals off after Toguro is gone purely in desperation and hope; it’s a secondary wave of agony and unknown pain from the breaking of one of the Ofuda charms. But he heals. He’s alive. He also remembers everything that happened; the damage his father did is why his hair is cut the way it is, as the scarring (from Ki) made it grow patchy with scars on his skull, so he changed his hairstyle accordingly

Events continue as normal from there forward with a higher rating of violence.

Afterwards, one Toguro is defeated, everyone is (as Okay as they can be) but physically well enough to go home. Reiwa is very not okay by all events, but spent a great deal of time with no communication to anyone at all. By the end of recovery he’s trying to push it aside and pretend to be his happy self as they leave for the harbor - but instantly breaks down when he sees Genkai is alive again.

-

Short Summary for Minor Arcs (Comfy Filler and Therapy)

General daily things together and conversations about feelings after the events of DT - Reiwa is not good at this, but helps the others over himself. He’s mixed up about how to feel about Toguro, about his Mother, about himself and what he is. - Yukina is the one who gets him to open up again.

An entire summer arc about everyone pretending to be camp counsellors to find a demon artifact. Many hijinks ensue. Lots of fluff. Kuwabara and Reiwa bond and Reiwa is ‘Oh NO’ about it. (No heavy violence; Hiei is Ride or Die for the kids by the end of it,)

Very small interpersonal arcs for each of the characters and their families and family matters. (Including but not limited to Kurama spending the day with his mother and they have a very good time - Hiei and Yukina bond but just in ‘yup we’re just allies totally’ way - Yusuke checks in on his mother with Keiko and gets dragged out for normal mundane tasks) Sorry short summary right LOL. lots of family time w everyone. It overlaps into hijinks.

That leads into The Gauntlet Arc.

-

The Gauntlet Arc in premise is a midpoint between ‘Save my family and friends’ (Dark Tournament) and ‘Save the world’ (Sensui/Three Kings) Stakes for the series.

A case is handed to Koenma’s desk and on the understanding of it being a small venture, sends the cast to investigate. Premise being ‘Demons are being trafficked into the human world through small smuggling rings. > Oh turns out that is MUCH BIGGER than we thought.’

Beneath the earth and hidden away in soundless caverns, imagine a dome of a room - within it a large carved across the floor X that has sealed cages on each point, and one within the center. This is The Gauntlet.

Within additional hallways beyond the dome [within walled holding cells] are demons - of any shape and size. Children and mothers are included. They are not fed and are almost expected to devour each other if they do not get taken to The Gauntlet first.

In The Gauntlet’s Cages all manner of demons are being made to fight to the death, but this is not a bloodsport like the DT - this is not a normal demon show, there are no announcers, this is wholly a human audience who are capturing demons from all over in order to force them to fight against their will using the music that is playing through the echochamber. There are no scores, there is only one winner; and then that winner is ‘put down.’

When someone dies in The Gauntlet, their soul is unable to be taken to the afterlife due to an enchantment and object created and gifted by The Coven. (See my wife's character Ivy for more Information) and is ‘suppressed’ in a gruesome way.

By the time the reality of the situation is known each member of the team is systematically separated and sectioned off in their own fights. It is a large roster and it is instantly understood they will have to kill to try and make it out. Some don’t have a problem with this, others do. (Remember, demons of all kinds are present.)

Only those with Demon Blood/Soul are affected by the music; They are still in full mental awareness and knowledge of what they’re doing. Their choices are their own and it is haunting.

Kurama is one of them as well despite his body as his soul is ancient. Very much not a good time with bloodlust and panic. Hiei has the hardest time resisting it. The most easily violent. Reiwa is brought to the Gauntlet cages against his will, the handlers using a variation of 'cattle rods' to control the demons, which have enough power in them to leave deep electrical scars on Reiwa's back.

This arc is the point where Kraven (An Eikyo Demon-Parasite bonded to her human body) in Ivy’s narrative becomes reality. any demon that is put into the cage with her recognises what she is, and they kill themselves in fear. She watches each and every time, covered in gore by the final round.

That final round is with Reiwa (Who had to fight Yusuke prior and it was not a good time for either of them), who this whole time has been forced to fight on his own - reminded each time of the strength his father gave him, of how easy the bloodshed comes to him. (His Spirit is unstable due to the way Yusuke revived him, and the Ofuda charms are not in balance anymore with only 3.) His abilities are starting to be outside of his control, reacting on that bloodthirsty instinct he relates to his father. His own body is healing far beyond normal capability.

Kraven is fully aware of the danger Reiwa poses and finally takes control of Ivy's body - and the two fight in untold violence - both able to take seemingly endless wounds with their healing. Kraven gets desperate as Reiwa’s Demon traits take over - turning the fight in his favor just by Ivy's mortal limitations. Kraven removes Reiwa’s still human heart and crushes it before their eyes in order to actually kill him.

Kuwabara is the one who saves the day (As he is unaffected by the charm.) with the assistance of other human allies present. Botan is reviving everyone of the cast and it is at the last moment that they come beaten and bloodied to see the end result.

Kraven returns control to Ivy, leaving her holding the gore of her friend and teacher as the charm-of-violence wears off too late. There is no measure of agony for her screaming at what she’s done seeing him kneeling before her.

Without his human heart, a demon core slowly takes root, and Reiwa’s existence is beyond control while within the human realm. Air bends from the pressure, metal rots, sounds quiver.

No one knows what to do about the shadow of their friend. Yusuke tries to do the same thing he did before, but Botan stops him and properly explains why the seals were there. Yusuke understands that he was part of the cause of this by imbalancing him. - Kuwabara pushes everyone aside and does everything he can with his own without hesitation to jump into the fray of spiritual fire; - his human spirit energy and conviction proving a match for the building pressure. That same desperation not to lose someone. It’s with the attempt of them all - with what little they have left - that Reiwa's overbearing soul can be brought under control and a new human heart is made.

When Reiwa opens his eyes and sees his friends, he cries.

The humans who ran the ring are ousted by both the SPD and the human side that work with them. They cannot promise that it won’t happen again, as they would have never caught this on their own.

Past this point there is a LOT of Character interactions and Arc Time dedication to dealing with all the Trauma of everything that is happening. Canon Events continue as per usual from this point with not enough changes to mention here at this time.

Genkai Notes Bulletpoints (As this relationship is important!)

Genkai is the most treasured person to Reiwa no matter what, she's been the one stable thing in his entire life when he literally was unable to make human friends due to how he was growing up - when people began to question him as she grew older with 'isn't he too young to be your son?' she would always defend him and never hide how much she was proud of him.

She worked very hard to help him learn to be a good man and treat others with respect at all times, and how to not be an idiot - but he's still basically an idiot.

Genkai would only tell him the good things about his father growing up (Even in her unique way of 'he was the most stubborn and idiotic man I had ever known. Loyal too.' ) which is why meeting Toguro as he did was such a traumatic shock. Genkai never thought they would meet.

Reiwa, like most kids, will always think of his mom the way he knew her growing up; young and kind, strong and beautiful. There is no degree of age that he doesn't see the woman who raised him.

When Genkai dies of old age, she doesn't make a fuss about it, but spends the weeks before it making sure everyone is okay in her own special way. She makes sure that Reiwa will be okay without her and that he has the support he needs to live his life without her. He says goodnight to her like any other day, she tells him that she loves him and he's made her more proud than he could ever know. She dies in her sleep peacefully.

[12pt-times-new-roman]

c3e60

"That's the story of a wizard, right? My magic is all work." I'm feeling some kind of way about Prism's bitterness about this

"See, scrying is like--" "This one I know. This one I know." So Ashton is familiar with scrying, but Orym is not.

Chetney giving everyone gifts also inadvertently gave them scrying focuses, because those items were technically created by Chetney. If that was intentional, that's a genius move on Travis' part.

Prism is from a thusfar-unmentioned Cobalt Soul branch in Emon! She hails from "Ablieras"? I didn't catch that name. But this means that she knows about the Cerberus Assembly -- she knows just about as much as we do -- but not anything specific, like she would if she was an apprentice at the Valley Archive or the Rexxentrum Archive.

They find a road and a sign. One side points west to Endovar, and one points east to Hearthdale. In older ink, the sign also points east to Othanzia, which is the northeastern part of Issylra of which Vasselheim is the capitol. Dynios identifies the road as the Outer Walk.

On the way to Hearthdale, at a crossroads, they come upon a ruined, long-disused gallows. That always bodes well.

Matt described the leylines as being "caught by the continuing Apogee Solstice."

As they grow nearer to the village, the taste of the air changes to metallic and the hairs on their arms stand up. It feels the same as their approach to the excavation site, and they see that they are approaching a leyline nexus hanging above it.

The locals of Hearthdale seem to be afraid of talking about the nexus, and when the Hells ask about it, they're interrupted by a guard. But someone points them toward two people they can ask about it.

They notice that all of the guards they can see are wearing symbols of the Dawnfather, despite religion-based "police forces" being extremely rare (mostly only found in and around Vasselheim). The town also has an uncharacteristically large temple to the Dawnfather.

They head to Prolef's shop; he tells them that the town lost 11 people, and they didn't have anything obvious in common. The temple has been in the town for a while, but in the past few months, Vasselheim sent guards and specialists to the town because of its proximity to a nexus point. There have also been a lot of Othanzian agents, including at least one Judicator, passing through.

People in this town are of the Loam and the Leaf, led by the Elder Abadena and her family line who communes with the spirits of the hill. It's a more druidic, "pagan" existence, in tune with nature, listening to the spirits of the world. Othanzian agents built the temple to encourage its residents to convert to Pelor's faith; the religion is not forced upon them violently or physically, but its presence in the town is oppressive, and the people have been becoming more and more afraid.

Every single person in this town heard Ludinus' voice. It wasn't telepathic, it came from the sky. So everyone in Exandria could have heard it.

The temple was constructed 20 years ago, but it only increased its guard presence in the past few months ahead of the solstice. They didn't used to walk the streets or listen in on conversations, but the solstice looming changed that.

"Do you have a wizard here?" "Oh, we don't have anybody here from fancy, learned colleges or anything." there's the balance to Prism's bitterness.

Bor'dor buying a very strong laxative has the same vibe as when you're rewatching C2 and Jester buys the dust of deliciousness

THATS what's so familiar about this. The Bells Hells view of the gods is the same flavor as the Mighty Nein's early view of the Kryn. Except the Bells Hells justifying the destruction of the gods is so much more frustrating.

Also, this campaign is kind of the epitome of "the enemy of my enemy." Maybe it's because there are two distinct stances and

"Wizards don't give a fuck about copyright." Liam O'Brien, 2023

(Reminder that we have absolutely no confirmation that the texts that were stolen from Vasselheim by the Grim Verity were not stolen from the Cobalt Vault, the Vasselheim branch of the Cobalt Soul.)

Laudna/Marisha theorizes that the people who were teleported were moved because of their proximity to a nexus, not because of any other common trait. This falls apart at the seams a little bit, because we don't know whether there was a nexus above Emon or the Cyrios Mountains, but it does apply to the Bells Hells themselves and the people in Hearthdale. This would also explain why Frida and Deanna were not teleported, since it tracks that Eiselcross' anomalies would interfere with that.

They arrive at the Knotburrow Cottage, a two-story wooden estate that's wrapped in vines as though nature itself is embracing the structure.

Abadena answers the door, and, when they tell her that they just appeared here, comments that the Bells Hells were "caught up in the winds of the solstice." She is a tall (6'5) half-giant woman in her 60s or so, with long gray hair woven with trinkets. She has deep gray-brown skin and faded tattoos on her arms.

Orym druidcrafts a big white flower. "I know we might be strangers... but that doesn't mean we can't be friends."

Bor'dor speaks giant! Because he's said that he has been in the Cyrios Mountains for most of his life, this implies that there is a pretty significant population of giants, half-giants, goliaths, or firbolgs in that region.

Point of order: We cannot be sure whether Matt means half-giant or goliath here. Because of her tattoos and grayish skin, Abadena fits the physical description of a goliath, but Matt specifically called her a half-giant. "Half-giant" isn't an official race in D&D 5e (the only ones I could find were homebrew), so this may be another case of Matt using his own descriptors in place of Wizards of the Coast intellectual property, which goliaths are (and which he has also done for multiple other lineages, like aeormatons (warforged) and eisfurra (aarakocra)).

Abadena tells them that all magic is amplified beneath the leyline nexus. The people of this town look to her as a spiritual advisor, because she can communicate with the denuthur eidolons, the spirits of the land.

"What do you think of the entities that call themselves the Prime Deities?" hhhhhhh

Orym has the right idea, 110%. The followers are the problem, not the gods themselves. "The problems I'm seeing here, in your home, are a response, an overreach."

ohohoho, a circle of spores druid!

Orym inhales the spores, and Abadena recalls Orym's memories. The key, Keyleth, Otohan, a cluster of experiences until he can't help but cough. (Sounds like detect thoughts to me!)

"We are born free people. It is only those with money and power and wills to exert that rob us of that freedom. And if history has proven anything, there is no higher form of government and control than what begins at the temples of Vasselheim... The nature of existence is to fight, is to struggle. And, yes, should one government fall, history has shown through our nature that another will try to rise. But maybe things need to crumble before they can be rebuilt. I would take a vacuum and the banishing of the greatest oppressors for a chance to remake things better, than to remain under these shackles that have held us down since we were created, yes? Someone with vision has taken steps that I can feel the gods quake at. The first mortal since the Matron ascended to truly fill them again with fear. That is worth something, yes? Is that not an opportunity?"

Orym is having none of it. Like Ashton, like Team Wildemount, Orym wants his friends back.

Abadena exits the house, and points to the north, toward the temple. "You help me free my families... and I'll help you return to yours. Come with me to a meeting. I think you'll hear what you need to hear there. We meet at the brewery in about 15 minutes."

Okay I get the sense that this is going to be way too much dialogue for me to transcribe, so I'll do my best but take it all with a grain of salt. (edit from future Note: incorrect. I'm pretty confident that at least 85% of my transcription is accurate.)

Upon asking how they can trust Abadena, she opens a secret door leading to a bird bath-type construct. Prism notices that it's a scry well, and Abadena says that they can use it upon the completion of their "mission." "There has been a rich history of outsiders promising things and then leaving us... so forgive me for my reticence." She has only had the time to scry on 3 missing members of her village: one lay adrift in the ocean, one walks through the outskirts of a swamp, and the last is amongst snow in the northern edges of Wildemount." With a nat20 insight check, Prism believes that the scry well is working correctly.

(A slight insight to my own thoughts right now, as someone who knows frankly way too much about Exandria (blame the adhd): Orym is the only person here who is differentiating between the gods and their followers. Everyone else is blaming the gods themselves, not the followers of the gods, for the actions of the followers of the gods, which is frankly fucking ridiculous when they are not also questioning the source of Prism's or Bor'dor's spellcasting. Sometimes neither the end nor the means justifies the casualties, and Orym seems to be the only one who knows that.)

Like, I'm not kidding. Every single person at this meeting is right -- the presence of a temple, guards who worship Pelor, and Judicators are oppressive, stifling, and imperialist. But there is absolutely nothing to prove that these actions were of Pelor's command -- and, actually, there is more evidence (via Deanna) to support that all of this is the reaction of Vasselheim itself, not the gods. Of the clerics, the paladins, the worshipers of the gods, not the gods themselves.

Anyway, the Bells Hells attend the meeting that Abadena invited them to.

Locals are complaining about their fear, about the sense that they'll be rounded up, about guards flirting with spouses.

Inside the room, there are about 80 people -- just below 10% of this 1,000-person town.

(Prism is comorbid adhd/asd solidarity and, as someone with both, I stand by this)

In the crowd, there is anxiety and pressure, an emotional crowd, people mourning loss, people afraid it was all a part of a plan. But all of these things are the fault of Vasselheim and Ludinus, and none of them necessarily are the fault of the gods themselves.

Elder Abadena takes the stage at the meeting, leaning on a staff. It appears to be a quarterstaff-like walking stick, but there are runes burned into it.

"We all stand here in the echoes of a terrifying event. We've lost some we care for, some perhaps not until we missed them that they be realized we cared for. I've found a few threads, and some, I can confirm lie safe, if lost. I will continue to bind my will with the eidolons, to bring them home. But now more than ever the ominous shadow of the gods' oppression pushes down upon us, and there is a sense, a growing fear I think, that this was engineered, if not by them then to be bent toward their interests and will. Many of you can feel the growth of possibility, the very vibration of what can ignite change in this world. You heard the voice, such as I did, and looking around, we are not alone. Many people across Exandira begin to awaken. Many who have felt powerless and hopeless stand up for the first time. And the reason that they loom and press and stare and beat and threaten is because they are as scared as the gods that brought them here. For once, the world can sense the fear of us, and we realize their demands are meritless. This opportunity in the solstice, and the distraction holding their eyes and ears across this world cannot be squandered. By the ancient elemental, Eideurns (?), with whom we share the lands, who has long hid from the judgement of the gods since the founding -- I wish to know if we all think of like mine, to seize this moment and drive teem from our homes... I know there is fear in your eyes, but this is the fear we will live with every day, should we not take this moment where the spirits are heightened, where our protectors are stronger than they've ever been. We do this when they are focused to their north, and their retribution will be swift and absolute. We do nothing, and we submit to their will, for we are nothing but resource gatherers for their pockets lined with gold. We do something now -- either we fall with pride, or we take back this hill, we take back this valley, and perhaps, if we are not alone, we take back this world. And we will all be free once more."

"Are there are any in our way? Those who would stand aside, there is no shame in not standing by our side, but I would bid thee, stay safe, while we bid fire to the walls of the unwelcome." Some back away, to the back of the room -- people with children, elders, people with doubt in their eyes. "By outsiders, us being here at this meeting means that we're in." Ashton.... bb....

Bor'dor has never killed anyone. Prism has only killed plants. Everyone else steps up. Prism does too, though she's invisible.

Abadena comments that the Hells are "walking the path of the solstice... and if they walk the path of the righteous, then they walk with us. Lend them your strength, as I am sure they will lend theirs... we can use [pathways] to approach the temple unseen, then, with mercy, we give them the option to leave of their own accord. Should they refuse, should they hear where they are unwelcome and raise their weapons or deny our demands, then we take the temple." Someone notes that the "recent god-amounts," the recent armed Bastions, number 6 within the temple, but 3 are on the opposite side of the village and would not have time to participate in this parlay. Meanwhile, Kiro, the Flame Guide (the head of the temple) resides within, and there are two judicators that have been cited within the town.

The name of the town's guards are Bastions.

With a high history/religion check, they realize that "Flame Guide" is a title usually given to someone who has proven themselves in both combat and politics, which is why they're perfect missionaries.

Essentially, the Bells Hells have agreed to accompany Abadena on her crusade to drive the temple of Pelor to go away. A parlay is on the table -- it's possible that the temple will simply concede and go away, in the face of 60 people (of whom 10 are trained in combat, 30 are farmers with weapons, and 20 are teenagers trying to prove themselves) -- but Prism is not optimistic that it will not end in a fight.

Abadena also notes that the town has had people convert to Pelor's faith, and she refers to them as dissenters and traitors.

Bor'dor offers to talk to the guards at the front, to distract them with alcohol and tabaco. Utkarsh playing into the high-charisma low-int low-wis build is my favorite thing, I stg--

YESSSSS Orym finally pulls the card. People from Vasselheim do not agree with Da'leth, and the Bells Hells have a direct line of communication as well as information from the center of their greatest fear that they can leverage against Vasselheim. Orym is really getting to the heart of it -- the Bells Hells are not fighting against Vasselheim, they are not fighting against the gods, they are fighting against the Ruby Vanguard and anything they can possibly use to gain an advantage there is a possibility.

"Roll up with a wagon full of fun, just to soften the pill of 'we've come from the front line.'" man, thank the fucking gods for Orym, the voice of reason. It's so nice to have a group with an actual voice of reason.

The Bells Hells create a plan that involves distracting guards with booze and weed. Abadena notes that others among them have similar experiences, but she does so unconvincingly.

Prism has an "illegal spell" -- a "really big, unstable distraction" -- which is summon greater demon. But Orym offers a different plan: if they can convince the guards that they should be in Marquet, not here, if they want to do something. So the Hells will go first, before everyone else, and they'll "fuck around... then everyone will find out." The Bells Hells resolve to lead this initiative, so they are the front line, trying to get the people in the temple to leave before the fighting starts -- and the faces of the crowd confirms that they would prefer this.

This is so reminiscent of the Legend of Korra s1, it's insane

Abadena takes a drink. "Gather your armaments, the resources you have... for tonight, the children inherit the world."

Bor'dor and Orym approach the temple under the guise of wanting to convert their faith. An offer of spirits and tobacco (and/or weed? unclear) eases the guards for a moment, as Orym tells of the tension and hardship of themselves and of this town.

THERE IT IS. Bor'dor puts the bottle of laxative into the drinks he pours for the guards, before passing drinks around.

"It's very much appreciated, for you to bring us gifts from the glorious Dawnfather... here's to another sunrise to bring sun to the crops, heat to the world, light to the unjust."

"I come from across the ocean, from the front line of the threat your order fears. I've seen first-hand, with my own eyes, what has transpired, what's taking advantage of [the leylines.] I desperately want to communicate what it is we've seen, and to help your order do what it means to hold up the Dawnfather and the sanctity of their crop. But it must be, must be to whoever's in charge here, because it is of importance." With a 22 persuasion check, Orym convinces the guards that he's serious, he's for real. They agree to go get the Flame Guard, and give another two barrels of alcohol to the scouts on the ramparts.

With Orym's passive perception, he notices two things. First, the mist that shifts and moves on the outside of this temple, almost like it has a consciousness. The thorny bushes and trees that surround the temple begin to grow and press against the walls. Secondly, there are two large groups of people -- the villagers, and the rest of the Bells Hells -- lying in wait outside the temple walls.

In the meantime, Prism has cast invisibility on her familiar to find the Flame Guide, and placed the manifest mind (an order of scrolls ability) within visual range. She tries to prepare a casting of summon greater demon, but does not have the material components -- the same problem that plagued Fjord in almost the same episode of C2 (it was C2E79, IIRC).

With a double nat20, Prism's familiar is absolutely unseen while invisible as it sneaks through the temple and find the Flame Guide. In the central worship chamber, the familiar sees a stained glass depiction of the Dawnfather holding down what can only be assumed to be the Lord of the Hells, as his head burns like a sun.

In here, too, there is research and study, a frenetic energy. There is also a humanoid figure standing 8-10 feet tall, with muscular arms, swirling tattoos, and where their face would be there is a dark, metallic mask with designs moving in a water-flow-type pattern. A Judicator. Prism does a whole series of held actions that will both create her manifest mind within the chamber with enemies and will allow her to cast arcane lock on the door to said chamber.

And yet, the Bells Hells notices one of the rampart doors open, and the Flame Guide exits it. She's a woman in her late 30s, short black hair, a severe expression; a scar that runs behind her eye down to her chin. "So! You have come to our temple this hour, given my men alcohol, and made promises of great reveals. Tell me what it is you wish to say in the next minute, or my men will throw you from this village and prevent you from ever returning."

Orym lays bare what they all saw, lays bare how Ludinus Da'leth is looking to tear the gods to the sky, lays bare how the enemy of his enemy is his friend -- so they are friends, and share a common goal. "Where you want to be, where all of Vasselheim's forces want to be, is the Hellcatch Valley... and you and your order's time is best spent across the ocean, rather than putting your boots on the necks of farmers." To aid, Laudna uses silent image to make Ruidus burn as bright as the burning sun, to allude a sign from the Dawnfather himself.

Liam rolls a 10 on both a Catha and a Ruidus die, both with the same modifier. With a semi-successful roll, the Flame Guard asserts that the Bells Hells and their companions will be brought to Vasselheim to plead their case. They all find this distasteful, and as Prism shoots a magic missile, Orym successfully grapples a guard and slams them into the wall.

Combat begins between the Bells Hells and Abadena's forces against the forces of this entire temple, against a fucking Judicator

As they hear dozens and dozens of war-cries from the villagers surrounding the temple, we end the episode.

[sarandipitywrites]

Writeblr Interview Tag

@cowboybrunch tagged me for this - thank you! Go read her responses here

Tagging @breath-of-eternity, @darkangel319, @kingragnarok-writes, @ryns-ramblings, @wildswrites, and an open tag for anyone who wants to answer! Copy/pasteable template's under the cut.

Short stories, novels, or poems?

Novels, both to read and write. I just don't tend to seek out short stories or poetry to read, for whatever reason (legitimately don't know why - I enjoy it when I do read it?), and whenever I try to write something a bit shorter, it quickly becomes... not shorter.

What genre do you prefer reading?

I'll read most genres, but it seems like I usually end up reading speculative fiction/sci fi/fantasy.

Are you a planner or a write as I go kind of person?

Planner - I usually want at least a rough outline of a scene before I start writing. I find that breaking the writing up into two steps takes the pressure off of the actual 'writing' part and lets me focus more on prose/characterization/the fun shit because Past Saran already did the hard part :P

What music do you listen to while writing?

Ambient music/sounds that 'fit' what I'm writing, lately with binauaral beats layered under it. Nothing with words. Words going in ears = no words coming out of fingers

Favorite books/movies?

Books? LOTS. No Gods, No Monsters; Frankenstein; The Heart Principle; Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe; On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous; No Longer Human; etc etc etc Movies? Spirited Away.

Any current WIPs?

Spark Signature (high fantasy sci fi heist thriller; most current WIP; I am presently being very annoying about it) The Art of Empty Space (fantasy/paranormal mystery romance; WIP intro is no longer accurate; on hold because it has mutated beyond my control and I am slightly afraid of it) Dead Roots, Dark Water (dystopian fantasy adventure; Jak & Daxter fanfiction; currently on final draft and being updated weekly) Ambition is a Lonely Tower (paranormal mystery thriler; literally have not worked on this since I started posting writeblr stuff so it doesn't have a WIP intro but I am not giving up on this damn it)

Create a character description of yourself: 

Constantly messing with something (hair, face, nails, the springy cat toy in the pocket of every single one of their jackets); gets anxious when they don't have earbuds or earplugs available; sits like a pretzel; forgets everything within 5 minutes if they don't write it down; avoids wearing "real people clothes" where possible; when forced to go outside, wears a t-shirt, baggy jeans, combat boots, and a jacket

Do you like incorporating actual people you know into your writing?

Technically no? I use pieces from actual people I know, for sure, but there's no one character who's 'basically x.' Now it sounds like I'm over here sewing together chimera characters from people I know, oof

Are you kill happy with your characters?

Depends on the story, I guess. Nobody's died (yet) in AES. Murder's kind of a whole Thing in Spark. And DRDW... uh. Let's not talk about that one (sorry, half of my OCs).

Coffee or Tea while writing?

Coffee in the morning, tea in the evening.

Slow or fast writer?

All or nothing! It really depends on: 1. whether or not I have an outline (scene-level outline = words go fast) 2. my headspace (Sludge Brain day = no words. Fuck your outline)

If you were in a fantasy world, what would you be?

I'd get eaten by a demonic chicken or some shit within like five minutes. Assuming I didn't have a horribly quick and embarrassing death, I'd like to be an alchemist or something like that. Give people those Good Plants

Most fav book cliche:

Enemies to lovers/friends, or friends to enemies, or really any big shift in relationship dynamic. Do that well and I love you and your characters forever

Least favorite cliche:

The 'if only they would talk to each other' thing - if one conversation that the characters are fully capable of having (but won't) is the only reason for the conflict, I'm out. Especially if there's no good reason for them to be avoiding the conversation. I'm not sure if this is even a cliche, but it's what I thought of :D

Favorite scene to write?

I love writing 'calm' scenes with tension just under the surface. And any scene that lets me fuck with perception/senses. Love it when a scene isn't straightforward

Reason for writing?

Lots of reasons! It's by far the thing I get the most satisfaction and enjoyment from; I get to write (and therefore read) the stories I want/need to read; free therapy supplement; I have lots of thoughts and ideas and little guys in my head and giving it all somewhere to go helps my brain be a lot quieter (it's still pretty noisy in there though, not gonna lie)

Short stories, novels, or poems?

What genre do you prefer reading?

Are you a planner or a write as I go kind of person?

What music do you listen to while writing?

Favorite books/movies?

Any current WIPs?

Create a character description of yourself: 

Do you like incorporating actual people you know into your writing?

Are you kill happy with your characters?

Coffee or Tea while writing?

Slow or fast writer?

If you were in a fantasy world, what would you be?

Most fav book cliche:

Least favorite cliche:

Favorite scene to write?

Reason for writing?

[yanderu-deredere]

How Eun-jeong Yoo, Fujio Watanabe, Gavin Ciarán Byrne, Gawain Dubhán Byrne react to the reader giving them the silent treatment

a/n: thank you so much for the request! please heed the warnings carefully as there's a few things i cover that can trigger other people. also, i gave eun-jeong a lil blurb becos i wanted to write him being a pathetic man™

warning: toxic relationships, implied physical abuse, mentions of implied non consent (in fujio's), emotional manipulation kind of? (in gawain's)

eun-jeong yoo ★ profile

fairs pretty well considering he's one of the clingier yanderes

it really depends on where you are in your relationship

if you're in the part of your relationship where he's kidnapped you, he's a bit more understanding

after all, he's trapped you inside his apartment and won't let you go outside. he knows something like that can make resentment build up in a person and he can understand if that happens to you

however, he's a bit less... not understanding exactly but patient? if it's during the part of your relationship where the two of you are still 'normal' so to speak

eun-jeong definitely still tries to be compassionate as he can be; he'll try to reason with you, to talk it out with you and see if the two of you can have a conversation

out of everyone on the list, eun-jeong would definitely be the last to resort to drastic measures

if you can't be reasoned with, he won't really do anything

eun-jeong is nothing if not a pushover

so, if you don't want to talk to him, there's not much he can do. he'll beg and plead and cry, of course. it's really pathetic almost but if you don't budge, nothing will change

"Please, please..." Eun-jeong had been on his knees in front of you for what had felt like hours now but, still, you hadn't budged an inch.

You continued to stare at him with those cold, loveless eyes and all it did was wrench sob after sob out of his chest.

He'd grip your hands tighter in between his, his tears cascading down his cheeks just to land on your palms.

Still, you refused to utter a single word to him. You ignored him, kept ignoring him. He didn't understand why, for what purpose, you wouldn't speak long enough to explain.

All he could do was sob again, beg even more with that tired hoarse voice of his.

fujio watanabe ★ profile

im going to be writing this entire thing like a college kid trying to hit a word requirement on a paper but emmm

basically, fujio doesn't care loool

the only thing he cares about is that you're his, that you belong to him in your entirety like an object he can possess

as long as that's still a thing, he doesn't care if you ignore him for minutes, hours or even days.

the only time it'll start becoming a problem is if he starts getting horny or, in your desire to ignore him, you try to get away from him

becos you can ignore him all you want but you have to stay near him

you have to be where he can see you, where he can make sure you're safe and protected and make sure that nobody's fucking with what's his

if you start trying to get away from him, he'll get physical very quickly. he won't punish you immediately though. he'll just grab you and pull you back.

if you still continue to try to get away, well... fujio is a fan of physical punishments.

if you're still trying to get away from him and he gets horny... well, he'll try to resolve the problem as quick as he can. he may be a scumbag but he prefers it when you're all over him and not when it's against your will

however, out of the yanderes on this list, fujio is definitely the one with the shortest temper

gavin ciarán byrne ★ profile

i know i said that fujio has the quickest temper on this list but gavin definitely would break down the fastest

despite being proud of himself for being a 'free spirit' and 'being pretty open with anything', that's when he know what the hell is going on

if you just suddenly start ignoring him and he doesn't know why, he'll immediately panic

of course, he'll try to calm himself down and rationalise everything

like eun-jeong, he'll try to have a conversation with you first. he'll try to figure out why you're being like this, is there something he can do to make it up to you, to help you feel better, etc

if you're not amenable to any of that, well... he will be a lot like eun-jeong where he'll be crying and begging and on his knees

actually he's like eun-jeong but speed run eun-jeong loool

also he's a lot like eun-jeong except louder. definitely very very louder

and, unlike eun-jeong, he has a limit. he can go maybe a day or two, at most a week. but more than that? well, he might go crazy. and gavin's never gone crazy before so he doesn't know what he'll do if he goes crazy

you don't want to see him go crazy, do you?

gawain dubhán byrne ★ profile

the pettiest on the list i think loool

gawain is definitely very rational at first

he wants to talk you through it. what's wrong, what can he do to help, had he done something that warranted this, can he do something to make up for it, etc?

if you have the conversation with him, he'll be relieved

you will have a bonus talk afterwards though about the fact that you need to talk to him instead of ignoring him, that communication is one of the building blocks of a relationship, that you need to always communicate with him

if you're not all that receptive to his initial talk, however... well, two can play at this game. and gawain is the best

he'll still take care of you. he'll leave leftovers in the fridge, he'll give you time to use the restroom, he'll move his pillows to the couch

but he'll ignore you indefinitely til you crack. and you will crack. because he the one thing he won't allow you to do is leave his apartment

you won't be allowed to leave until you talk to him (or ever if you're at the point in your relationship already where he's kidnapped you)

trust him though, the loneliness and lack of people to interact with really start wearing down on you after a while and you'll come crawling back

don't worry, he'll welcome you back with warm arms and soft chastising words about how you should never do that ever again