#I can’t escape my own ocs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

onlyswan · 1 year

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summary: in which a shameless ex-lover makes your bad day worse and jungkook can’t help but to go wherever you are.

> fluff, dashes of angst / wc: 4k

> warnings: mention of blood bc oc gets scratched :( + is ready to throw hands at jk’s ex and then cries lol, taehyung cameo and mentions of yeontan :P + a line of jk reminds me of the orpheus drabble <3

note: last one for a while as i take a rest from writing and process jimin’s album <3 reblogs and feedback are always appreciated! it goes a long way :]

—

“jungkook, you’ve been in there for an hour! answer your phone!”

you click your tongue in annoyance, bouncing your thighs up and down as you fiddle with the controller and collect your kills with reckless tenacity. the ringing of the third phone call he’s receiving in the past ten minutes is overpowering the volume of the game, which you turned all the way down just enough so that you can faintly yet clearly hear it. well, right now, you can’t anymore. again.

“baby, you’re home?!” jungkook yells in surprise, and you spare him a glance.

half of his naked torso is peeking out of the bathroom door, and he looks like a maltese puppy who heedlessly jumped into a swimming pool, hair still dripping wet and pure excitement painted all over his face.

“who’s calling anyway? you can answer it for me!“

“can’t. i’m playing call of duty.”

“you’re what?!” he exclaims, but his voice enters your ear then escapes from the other as you remain deeply absorbed in the game. he disappears for a minute before emerging from the bathroom, half-naked with a striped white and khaki towel wrapped around his waist down to his knees.

you’re situated on the floor with your back leaning on the couch. he stands beside you with his hands on his waist, watching the television screen in sheer curiosity, which then morphs into astonishment. “wow, you’re actually playing it… i haven’t seen you touch your controller in months. but why are you sudden- yah! what is this? how are you doing so good?!”

the phone lying on the center table lights up once more. the incessant noise is seriously getting into your nerves and you’ve had enough of it, gritting your teeth as you snap. “i’m begging you. answer it. or i might break something.”

the irritation embedded in your voice makes him jut out his bottom lip sadly. more than that, your facial expression and body language evidently scream that you’re feeling on edge. you didn’t even bother to let him know that you’ve come home, and he’s uncertain if you nearly muted the volume because you don’t want to listen to the ear-shattering sounds of ammunition being fired or you don’t want him to hear them.

he picks up the phone per your request, eyebrows knitting in confusion when he fails to recognize the number flashing on the screen.

“it’s an unregistered number. i don’t know who- oopsie-” he scrunches his nose, chuckling because he accidentally ended the call when he muted the device. it vibrates with a new message from the same person not too long after.

“it’s my ex?” he blinks with a blank expression on his face. he intently reads the content of the text, tugging at the silver ring piercing the corner of his lower lip. “uhhh- she’s… asking me to put in a good word for her… because she applied to be an in-house choreographer at- at the company.”

on the other hand, you feel like a bucket of ice water was dunked over your head at the mention of your boyfriend’s ex-lover. your vigorous focus on the game wavers, but luckily, you’re already so close to finishing, and you still maintain half a mind to end the game in your own terms. the word ‘victory’ flashes on the giant screen, and you almost break down into tears because god knows you needed a fucking win today.

jungkook gasps in amazement, whipping out the camera app to capture a photo of your achievement. “did you just fucking win solo versus squads?”

the thing is… you’re not the biggest fan of these games. sure, you play occasionally (only using his accounts because you like how he already has most items unlocked and you can freely play around… you like to pretend that you’ve never been scolded for making him rank down before), but you prefer the relaxing types with adorable and colorful graphics. and just like he said, you haven’t touched your controller in months, which must be the reason why he’s pleasantly surprised. you won’t be shocked if you get bombarded by his gamer friends to play with them tomorrow, by the looks of your boyfriend proudly typing away at his keyboard while smiling from ear-to-ear.

“don’t move on too fast.” you breathe out a deep sigh before standing on your feet. “which ex? that bitch you broke up with because she kept on picking stupid fights with your friends? and now she wants to work with them?”

the combination of your harsh intonation and the recollection of dreadful memories make him wince. that relationship didn’t end on good terms, so this is confusing to him as well. it was a person he wholeheartedly liked, but they barely lasted six months because the way she treated those who are near and dear to him, unkind and discorteous, eventually turned him off and made him nothing but angry. she tried to convince him that she could change, but it was his decision that could no longer be changed.

does it even matter? he didn’t dwell on it too long, anyway. because then, he met you.

“yes,” he shortly answers, flipping his phone so the screen is facing you.

your brain chooses to not register any of the other characters used in the text except for those at the end: the flirty ‘Thanks babe! I miss u so much. See u around soon. Let’s catch up’ and winking emoji blowing a red heart next to it. you release yet another sigh, this time shaky and frustrated, and you gently move his hand aside to get the phone out of your sight. a headache is beginning to blossom at your temples, and you truly do not have the energy to deal with this bullshit right now.

“you must know how i feel about this, right?”

“i’m not sure-”

“like if she calls you ‘babe’ infront of my face i won’t hold back and i will claw her eyes ou-“

“okay, okay, baby, i got it!” he chuckles, taking a hold of your arms to pull you closer to him. he plants a sweet kiss to your lips, hoping that would aid in putting your mind at ease. “i won’t let her call me that again, hmm? or do anything that will make either of us uncomfortable for that matter.”

“good. i trust you. do whatever you want.” you speak softly, giving his rosy cheek light pats. he always looks a dash more attractive when fresh from the shower, so entrancingly hypnotic when bare-faced that it makes you want to fall on your knees and worship the stardust making up his existence.

unfortunately, your mind is too clouded and restless and you can’t stay to admire him some more. you withdraw from his hold, the cold drops of water from his hair sliding down to your forearm and you wipe them away on his towel.

“i’m going out for a bit. i need to buy something at the convenience store.”

you don’t wait for him to answer. you head straight to the bedroom to collect your essentials.

“wait for me. i’ll go with you!”

you return wearing a long purple jacket over your blue t-shirt and white sweatpants, also carrying your phone, wallet and pepper spray.

“i’ll be fine alone. i got this.” you wave the small bottle infront of him before stuffing it in the pocket of your sweatpants.

the front door rings as it opens and shuts, and jungkook despises the weight sitting on top of his chest— heavier and heavier with your absence. he still wanted to insist on tagging along, worried because it’s already late at night, but he gave up when he sensed that you really need to be left alone.

“shit, let me take care of this first.” he tilts his head to the side, and then the other, cracking his neck before he scrolls through his contact list to make an important call.

—

the soles of your sneakers scratch the rough asphalt as you lazily drag yourself to the convenience store. you’re having one of those kind of bad days- you woke up this morning mad at the world for a reason you couldn’t decipher, and it only got worse after you left the house for work. you brushed against someone while chasing the bus and the zipper of their bag scratched your arm that it bled uncontrollably. the nearest restaurant to your workplace was closed and you had to walk an extra kilometer. you didn’t have the time to text jungkook and complain about the shitty day you’ve been having. and you had to suffer the bus ride home beside an old teacher from high school who never ran out of uninteresting stories to tell.

oh! and how can you not mention that you were subjected to remembering that your boyfriend fell in love with other people before he knew you? the mere mental image of jungkook being emotionally and physically intimate with somebody else is a strong punch in the gut that makes you want to run in a corner and hurl.

and to rub salt on the wound, his ex-girlfriend, who is more than comfortable to reach out to him with an old term of endearment, wants to work at close proximity with him after saying ‘i miss you so much’… was the ‘so much’ necessary? was saying ‘i miss you’ necessary at all? you don’t know her intentions or if she even has any, and you don’t care if they’re good or bad. you simply cannot bear the idea of having to be constantly plagued by these vexatious musings.

maybe a good cry would help, but the tears won’t come out of your stinging eyes blinded by bright and flickering neon shop signs lined up beside the street. they’re saltwater in your lungs, making it difficult for you to breathe and to make sense of why you don’t feel like yourself today. it’s hormones. it’s always the hormones, you try telling yourself.

—

you’re sitting infront of the glass wall separating the sidewalk and the convenience store, watching the humans and the cars speeding past without much thought in your head… except for the hellish torture you’re inflicting on yourself. you sniffle loudly as you chew the spicy noodles in your mouth. your tongue is tingling and almost numb, but you lift up the flimsy wooden chopsticks to eat more of it because somehow, this is exactly what you needed. perhaps, it wasn’t accidental when you ended up pouring most of the buldak sauce.

however, your own little bubble gets popped by a tattooed hand you recognize all too well. it sets down a bottle of cold water infront of your cup of noodles.

“hi there.”

jungkook kisses the top of your head before occupying the stool on your left, which is the second seat farthest from the door that chimes every time a new customer walks in. he is very much not naked anymore, wearing a plain white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. his hair is still damp, bangs forming a perfect comma on his forehead, and the thin silver chain dangling from his delicate neck sparkles when the light grazes it.

“aigoo, why are you so messy?“

the doe eyes behind his glasses smile at you warmly as he wipes your swollen lips, the paper napkin you’ve been neglecting now stained with the dark red sauce.

“you’re here?” you ask dumbly, wanting to slap yourself right after the words escape your mouth because yes, what the fuck, he’s here. he’s touching you, and he’s real.

“of course, i’m here,” his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek before he answers, sounding upset. he removes his glasses and places it on top of the long white table. “i just wore the first things i saw then speedwalked here. i was sorting out the laundry and your handkerchief had blood all over it! care to explain?”

you guiltily avoid eye-contact, reverting your attention to the food as you poke and mix the noodles that have gone dry due to the cold air. “you didn’t have to. i already cleaned the wound twice- my left arm just got scratched.” you shrug your shoulders meekly. “i had a bad day, that’s all.”

“who do i have to fight, huh? who hurt you and ruined your day?” he takes your chin between his thumb and index finger, lifting it up to make you look at him. his sincere concern is written all over his widened round eyes and creased forehead. “tell me, baby. i’ll make them pay.”

“well,” you anxiously sink your teeth on your bottom lip, a hesitant effort to control yourself because the particular word tastes too sour on your tongue. “your ex was just my last straw, you know? i don’t even want to call you ‘babe’ anymore.” your voice gradually quiets down in exasperation.

“why not?!”

you roll your eyes with a huff, pushing his hand away. “you’ll just remember her every time i say it.”

you grab the bottle of water, twisting off the cap and hissing when its ridges scratch the heel of your palm. you take big gulps of the beverage, feeling refreshed after the burning onslaught that assaulted your mouth.

“oh, come here. you- i need you closer.”

you squeak when you feel the heavy metal chair moving closer towards jungkook’s direction, one hand flying to your mouth and the other gripping his shoulder in fear of falling. he jokingly copies you when you send him a sharp glare. he puts an arm around you to affectionately hold the curve of your waist, anchoring his elbow on the table to rest his face on the palm of his hand.

“i took care of that, alright? i asked the company and they told me they put her on the waitlist. pretty sure she knows, too- that she’s not getting the job.“ he raises his perfectly shaped eyebrows in jest, playfully sticking out his tongue. “i told her i can’t help her, and not to contact me again in the future because i’m in a committed relationship. with you.” he squeezes your hip to reiterate his words. “then i blocked her number. i thought i did it before, but i guess i forgot to? ah, i don’t know!”

a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips and he happily grins when he notices, deep dimples making an appearance. unable to resist the urge, he briefly draws closer to kiss your cheek.

“besides, i forgot she even existed. why would i think of her when my favorite person is right infront of me? that’s absurd.”

he was truthfully flabbergasted at the foggy memories that resurfaced when he read her name, had one of those ‘oh, that’s right, this happened,’ and ‘why the fuck did i like this person again?’ moments.

“you’re the only one i think of when i hear the word ‘babe’. and when i hear love songs, or breakup songs, because they make me imagine us breaking up and i get so fucking sad.” his expression crumples into a look of sheepishness after spitting out the unplanned confession.

it’s terrifying at times, how an imaginary breakup with you feels more painful than his past heartbreaks combined. he almost lost you once, and he won’t let that happen again. he removes his hand on your waist to tenderly caress your hair when you bury your face in your hands.

shaking your head, you giggle at the genuine distress lacing his voice when he said the last sentence. “what are you saying?”

and then it finally happens.

restrained sobs replace the carefree giggles racking your body. your hot tears soak the palm of your hands until they drip down to your wrists. your frail voice comes out trembling, shattered, and disgustingly vulnerable for a space scattered with prying eyes and ears.

“…i just- fuck, i don’t want to say this but- i don’t think you understand- that i’m selfish. and i want you all for myself. i can’t stand that everybody wants to have you. i hate it, jungkook.”

your name rolls off from his tongue with a soft sigh as he pulls you in for a tight embrace. the comfort of his love and warmth further breaks you down, and you almost make yourself bleed to keep your cries quiet. his silken lips brush against your temple before he puckers them for a kiss that lasts four, five, six… seconds. you begin wondering if he might just stay like this forever, not that you mind, until he detaches himself to speak and you hear the smooching sound that signals the end of it.

“shhh, trust me, baby. i do.” he rubs your shoulder to soothe your tensed up body. “but i don’t care about that. they can die trying because i only want to be yours.”

you swallow the lump in your throat as his reassuring words tug at your heartstrings. you wiggle out of his secure arms, wiping your tears with the paws of your jacket as you force a smile. “it’s embarrassing. i don’t want to cry here.”

“how about in there, then?” he teasingly undoes the third button of his shirt, exposing more of his honey skin to the cool air. it reveals the rest of his silver chain, and his defined pecs are also peeking out. you whine in protest of his scandalousness, pounding his chest lightly with your closed fist.

he chuckles, corners of her crinkling with mischief as he buttons himself up again. “i’m kidding, i’m kidding-” he cradles your face in his hands, gingerly wiping away the tears still rolling down your cheeks.

between the two of you, he admits that he’s the one who cries more easily. it takes a colossal build-up of emotions for your tears to be released, and today’s influx caused your sink to overflow at long last. seeing you weep, it feels like a direct stab to the heart— especially unbearable, twisting deeper, when he’s part reason why. even so, it’s a big relief when the weight you’re carrying is being unloaded. but he understands that you don’t want to do that here… not here.

“as if you’ll let someone steal me away from you, huh? i know you, you cunning minx.”

you feign innocence, batting your eyelashes. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“that’s exactly what i’m talking about.” he smirks before planting a chaste kiss on tip of your nose. “don’t cry anymore. i love you.”

“i love you, too. but-” you sniffle, frowning at him as you motion at the cup of noodles infront of you. “why did you have to go and make me feel better? i don’t feel like finishing this anymore. it’s too spicy.”

“yeah, i can tell. look at your face. oh-” he squeezes your puffy face in one hand. “you were already crying eating that, poor baby… i’ll just finish the rest, how about that?”

“please,” you smile sweetly, delighted with his preposition. “i’ll buy ice cream. do you want anything? beer?”

“beer-” his face lights up like a christmas tree when it dawns on him that you said the word simultaneously.

you beam proudly, recounting the time you’ve been well-acquainted with every nook and cranny of jungkook’s essence of being. “did i pass the test? i’m taking my master’s degree in kookology.”

—

after jungkook finished your spicy noodles, he claimed his appetite only treated it as an appetizer and it demanded to be served ramyeon for the main course. that brings you to this moment, your boyfriend applying bandaids on your arm while he waits for his food to be cooked. concurrently, you devour your cone of vanilla ice cream.

“babe, i think two is enough.“ you attempt to stop him from opening another one of the teddy bear patterned bandaids. he found them displayed by the counter when he paid for the ramyeon, and only then did he realize that he forgot why he ran to you in the first place.

“they’re not- it goes all the way down your elbow.”

and you can’t argue with him because he looks undoubtedly pissed off, his expression instantly darkening when he saw the damage that damn zipper did to your skin. if this happened to him, he would be in a terrible mood for the rest of the day, too.

he plants a healing kiss on top of each one and your heart flutters at the loving gestures, but you feel a little ridiculous walking around with three bandaids running across your arm. you decide to wear your jacket again in order to hide them, since you’re freezing beside the airconditioner anyway.

jungkook starts eating his second round of noodles, but not before boasting that he perfectly separated the wooden chopsticks unlike you. you roll your eyes at his cocky grin and tiny dance of celebration, taking another bite of the cone you’ve consumed halfway.

the two of you comically freeze at the same time when a familiar ringtone tickles your ears.

“who would be calling at this hour? it’s 1am!” jungkook puts down his chopsticks to fish out his phone from the depths of his pocket, his thick satoori accent slipping out as he chides the person on the other line. he shakes his head with a laugh when he sees the name written on the screen. “ey, of course, it’s him again. i knew it.”

you watch him with an amused smile, his reaction giving you an inkling of who it is.

he answers the video call and props up the phone on his tall can of beer, grabbing his chopsticks to resume eating. “hyung, did you just wake up again?”

judging by the background, taehyung is in his gaming room. the given keywords being messy hair and eyes as puffy as yours, you’re pretty sure the answer to your boyfriend’s question is yes.

his deep and rough voice rumbles through the speaker. “jungkook-ah, i just caught up to our gc. where’s ___?”

“with me. why?” jungkook answers, words muffled as he chews and bounces his legs with the pleasure of having his food craving beyond satisfied.

taehyung ignores his question for the second time, instead calling out your name to catch your attention.

“whyyy?” you mimic his sulky tone, slightly shifting the phone to the side to show him your face.

you snicker when he flashes you his famous boxy smile, almost choking on your ice cream when his following remarks cause jungkook to throw a fit.

“play with me. no one else is awake and i’m getting bored of jungkook. he doesn’t want to play new games.”

“yah! you know i can still hear you, right?!” he takes a break from chugging his beer to throw his retort.

“i know, i wanted you to.” taehyung blows a raspberry at his best friend.

you grimace, stealing the opportunity to butt in before their banter lengthens. “listen, i’ll play with you if you let me play with tannie again.”

he opens his mouth to answer, but he quickly closes it again to stare at you nonchalantly. you impatiently quirk an eyebrow at his silence. “soooo?”

“wait there. i’ll think about it.”

and then he ends the call.

jungkook throws his head back, bursting into vibrant laughter after witnessing the interaction, and your head drops on the table with a pitiful whimper.

with bam staying at the training center for the meantime, you awfully miss the rush of happy chemicals flooding your brain in the company of man’s best friend. it was two weeks ago when you and jungkook hung out at taehyung’s house. you spent some time with yeontan at the park after you complained about getting bored watching them play ‘i’m on observation duty’. and he wasn’t… very happy when his dog started flat-out ignoring him in favor of your presence ever since you came back from the walk. tannie was adamant on sitting on your lap during dinnertime, even almost following you past the front door when it was time for you to leave.

“aww, my baby.” jungkook strokes your back with faux sympathy. “he hasn’t moved on from it yet. give him some time… maybe, like, five more minutes?”

—

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#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook au #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

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obsessive-evie · 5 months

Text

you’re pretty is all

pairing: Kate Martin + fem!oc

word count: 3.2k

warnings: smut, explicit language

“I-, I can’t, please, I can’t, you can’t keep doing this to me,” Kate pants into my mouth, a blushing smile on her face, clearly embarrassed at the needy tone her own voice took on.

You see, we have recently discovered that Kate cannot handle praise. At. All.

It happened one day on accident, I was just going to one of her games like normal, a pretty rough game against South Carolina I must admit, but Iowa pulled through, Kate being the highest scorer instead of Caitlin for once. She had jogged over to where I was leaning against the walls of the stadium bleachers, a wide smile on her face the moment she noticed where I was. She had barely finished talking to the media, still dodging reporters with cameras on her way over to me.

I immediately wrapped my arms around her head of course, standing on my tiptoes to kiss the side of her head. Her head was buried in my neck, her heavy breathing and warm body pressed against my own. “You did so good baby, oh my god,” I said in her ear before pulling away, my hands still on her neck. Her face now held a different kind of look in her eye. What once was pink from the exertion of the game was now speckled darker with with red, her eyes holding a look of almost uncertainty in them. She opens her mouth like she’s going to speak, but nothing comes out.

She looks bashful, almost shocked, as she keeps trying to form words through her smile. A few laughs escape instead, so she breaks eye contact, and pulls me back into her arms, hiding her face in my neck.

I don’t bring it up until later, taking it as she was just overwhelmed in the post-win high.

But the more I thought about it, the more my brain needed to know why she looked so, flustered? Now I had had my theories about her liking praise, the few times I was more in control featuring a heavy adoration note, and less than a possessive or rough route, but I wanted to test my theory.

“I’m serious i’m so proud of you Kate, you played so well,” I say in the passenger seat of her car as she drives us back to her apartment, her hand in mine on the center console. We’re stopped at a long red, the large Iowa intersections taking far too long in any other circumstance, but i’m thankful for it now as I get to watch her head duck down in an attempt at hiding while a large smile plays on her face, one she’s clearly trying to hide. Her face flushes red again, and that’s when I knew I was on the right track.

Throughout the course of the next few days, I continued to shower my girlfriend with excess praise and compliments, relishing in every blush, smile, giggle, and hidden face. Everything from playing with her freshly washed hair while we talked about the game later that night, making her shift herself from laying on my chest to her kissing my neck to hide her red face when I started to delve into her high score. Not just that, but when she aced a math test a few days later, I went above and beyond in telling her how proud I was (she ended up telling me to shut up with a red face and half hidden smile, her large hand coming to cover half of her face).

The first time I called her pretty girl, I knew damn well what I was doing.

I was sitting on the bathroom counter as she curled her hair, just admiring her beauty and features. She was focused on not burning herself, but when she put the iron down and caught my eyes, she smiled, a puzzled look on her face. “What?” she asked while moving closer, her hands coming to my thighs, rubbing up and down my leggings as she laughed slightly. I shook my head, not wanting to admit anything yet, so naturally she moved closer, leaning into my personal space.

I shake my head while laughing, moving myself to kiss her lips with smiles on our faces. I break the gentle kiss to say, “My pretty girl.” Her reaction is immediate, her face flushes pink high on her cheekbones and ears, she tries to hold back an even larger smile which causes her nose to twitch slightly too. My hands cradle her jaw on each side before she plants her forehead on my chest, me sitting on the counter being one of the few positions she can do so.

I can feel her breathing slightly pick up, making me laugh again. She shakes her head in my chest with a small groan before picking it up, and moving back over to where she was standing, holding back a smile and a red face.

So it does work.

My plan was to see how long it would take for her to crack, or melt, either one worked for me. So when the day came where I was fed up with her being so stupidly strong willed, I decided to bombard her all day long.

I kissed every inch of her face when we woke up that morning, telling her how beautiful she is, even throwing in a my beautiful girl before getting out of bed to shower (she asked to join, but I don’t think I could handle seeing her naked and not get on my knees, which would ruin my whole plan).

I even hyped her up a little more the usual when we got ready to go out to dinner. When I would usually just call her my hot girlfriend and poke her biceps or abs, I made show of saying how good she looked, even throwing in a wolf whistle for good measure to get that pretty blush I adored. Now don’t get me wrong, she did look damn good, but it was a little exaggerated when she walked out in a gray tank and jeans, her hair up in a high ponytail with a dusting of makeup on her face highlighting her natural features.

I got the blush that I wanted, as well as an eye roll as she deflected by kissing me on the lips.

It was only after we had a few drinks at a nice italian restaurant that she even acknowledged my praises.

I had called her “so fuckin pretty” after taking some photos of her at our secluded table, to which she responded, “I can’t with you, you know that?” with an eye roll. “I just love my incredibly hot girlfriend, and I wanna tell her, what’s so wrong with that?” I replied. She just shook her head and said, “You’re so down bad for me.” Of course I nodded my head enthusiastically and took more photos.

By the time we were home on the couch, still in our going out clothes and makeup, I was determined to make her crack.

I was seated straddling her lap, her hands unbashfully on my ass and hips (a personal fav of hers as she put it), while mine were moving between her jaw and neck, not deciding which one I liked better. My tongue was in her mouth when my hand just barely squeezed her neck, not choking or anything, but enough for her to moan out in surprise. She pulled away for air, her face flushed and lips bitten a dark shade of pink. God she really was pretty.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I whispered before going back in for more kisses. Her hands now gripped my hips harder, pulling me down onto her thigh, causing pleasure to shoot up into me. She did it again at the same time she pushed her thigh up, the thought of the strong muscle beneath me only adding to my pleasure. This time i’m the one that pulls away to say, “God you’re so good to me, you’re so fucking pretty baby,” while smiling. Hopefully this is the fatal blow that will make her crack.

I’m right.

“I-, I can’t, please, I can’t, you can’t keep doing this to me,” Kate pants into my mouth, a blushing smile on her face, clearly embarrassed at the needy tone her own voice took on. Her bright blue-green eyes plead up at me, coercing my body and soul into her. I stay quiet, hoping to urge her to fill the silence. “I mean it, you have no idea what that does to me I-,” she pauses, taking a deep breath, breaking our eye contact, “I can’t, just-“ I cut her desperate words off with a kiss, needing to feel those pretty lips on mine again. She kisses me back with fervor, gripping my ass and hip impossibly tighter, her hands almost painfully doing so.

Our lips continue to move with a melting passion, each of us letting out occasional moans as we move closer and closer to the fires burning bright in our cores. I break the kiss and a string of warm spit still keeps us connected. I move to kiss her cheek gently, the restraint and stark contrast from the aggressive kissing almost making me shake. Kissing softly down her jawline, stopping just above her ear to whisper, “My pretty baby,” the hand that was resting on her neck squeezing slightly.

Now being possessive wasn’t particularly new for us, Kate liked to show me off and I the same, but we were never directly possessive. So i I guess it caught her off guard when I accentuated the my part.

“Oh my god,” she half says half whines as I smirk, continuing my pursuit of kisses down her neck and onto her exposed collarbones. I manage to get her tank top off, so of course she had to even the score and get me out of my shirt (it was bunched up around my bra anyways). Kissing down her chest, removing the clasp of her bra one handed, pulling her ripped jeans down, those were all easy. But resisting the urge to abandon my teasing and fuck her senseless once I got her in just her underwear was not easy. At all.

I too was stripped down to my shorts and lacy black bralette, my mouth still slowly trailing down her body, gently kissing and biting. My hands explored her hips and thighs the lower I got, the sucking on her chest and nipples making the strong muscles twitch slightly. Every time I pulled away from her warm body to breathe or look at her, I let out a string of praises or minor possessiveness.

The lower I got, the more she squirmed at my words. What would’ve probably only made her blush before this is now making her pant. For example, “God you’re so good baby,” made her let out a particularly desperate moan, her hand coming to the back of my head as I sucked on her nipple.

Something I did know about Kate however, is that she got particularly embarrassed when I went down on her. She had a habit of covering her face with her hands, a pillow, or biting her lips to hold back the moans that only urged me on. She also had a habit of closing her eyes or looking away, especially the more orgasms I gave her, because she had a tendency to cry.

The first time I made her cry in bed, I panicked, thinking something was wrong. It was after a particularly hard loss, a tiring and brutal game against LSU, and I decided she could use an orgasm or two after that. By the time I was getting her closer and closer to her third, I thought that I was crazy when I caught a glimpse of shiny eyes before she covered them with the crook of her elbow again. Amping her up for her fourth however, was when I was for sure that her moans were turning into almost sobs. My heart dropped, thinking I had taken it too far. Of course I immediately removed my head from her pussy and cradled her face with my hands, trying to remove her own from her face.

All I had received in return was a rushed out explanation, “No, no, please don’t stop I’m fine I swear just-“ she had said before I cut her off. “Baby you’re crying you’re clearly not fine what’s wrong was it too much? I’m sorry love I-“ this time it was my turn to be cut off.

“No, no this just happens ok I’m fine just I swear to god if you don’t make me cum these tears will be for real,” she choked out, the waterworks of frustration starting back up again. I had kissed her salty lips quickly before giving her a fourth orgasm, watching as the tears flowed freely once I had held her hand down on her hip. Back then I had watched in awe as her pretty face was streaked with tear tracks, trying to test my luck with a fifth orgasm right after her fourth. Unfortunately her sobs became mumbled words of, “No I can’t i c-can’t too much I can’t please I can’t,” while pushing my head away from her dripping cunt.

Now I’m determined to see those rare tears again.

Hopefully my teasing combined with her newfound appreciation for praise would be enough.

I stand corrected.

After sucking on her thighs for too long, Kate had relented and quietly asked me to touch her. I had removed her soaked panties slowly, kissing every inch of her legs they went down. This is when she would typically look away or look for a pillow to hide in, but thanks to our position on our barren couch, she had no choice but to look at me as I made contact with her wet pussy.

I started out slow by circling her clit and pushing a single finger into her, crooking it slightly. “Keep your eyes on me pretty girl,” I said, making her move her hand from shaking by her thigh to holding the back of my head, keeping my tongue on her as she whines.

Throwing out other praises and you’re so pretty darling, or, you look so fucking good like this, so wet baby made Kate only moan and whine louder, her hand coming to cover her mouth. I get minutes into pumping two fingers into her before I notice she’s gone muffled, so I take her hand away from her mouth by her wrist, and hold it onto the couch with my thumb on her pulse point gently.

“C’mon baby let me hear you, I know you can do it,” I say, watching as she tries to keep quiet by biting her lip, tears beginning to form in her eyes. I decide to push her further.

At the same time I curl my fingers up into her g spot, I suck on her clit hard, all while simultaneously pushing on her lower stomach. This makes her let out a loud and whiny moan, stirring things inside me when she tightens her hold on my hair. The tears begin to flow now, almost making me let up on my assault. Almost.

I keep alternating between sucking on her clit and pushing on her stomach, my fingers keeping pace inside her. “Oh my god,” she panted out, the telltale signs of my girlfriend’s incoming orgasm starting as her breathing picks up. I keep going, never relenting, even when her strong hips try to lift up off the couch, forcing me to wrap my arms around her hips and thighs, pinning her in place.

I take a small breather to say, “you’re close baby, I know it, why don’t you cum for me yeah? god you’re doing so well love.” She throws her head back and whines, a high and needy thing that makes me speed up my hand, even though my wrist is starting to cramp.

Her breathing deepens, sobs worsen, thick hot tears rolling down her cheeks as her strong thighs clamp around my head. Pushing on her lower stomach always seems to do the trick, something about external g spot stimulation? Either way, she’s coming on my tongue with my name in her mouth, combined with many other things I can’t hear because of her thighs over my ears.

Her whole body shakes and twitches, her hips lifting in an arch, her hand holds my hair almost painfully tight to her cunt, not like I was leaving anyways. Her heavy breathing doesn’t slow as I push through what I think is the longest orgasm I’ve ever given her. And trust me, giving head was considered one of my special skills. Wonder if I could put THAT on a job resume?

I slow my fingers inside of her, as well as the lapping of my tongue when I think i’ve stretched that out as long as I could. Her eyes are closed now, breathing slowing, her thighs loosened around my head, allowing me to pull away for air. I slowly remove my fingers from her cunt, causing her hips to twitch again, making me laugh. I suck her excess slick off my fingers, relishing in the way she tastes. Maybe I’m smug, but the fucked out look on my girlfriend’s face as she opens her eyes is totally deserving of a mini victory lap.

I stand up from my position on the floor, my knees cracking on the way up from the way I was kneeling. I kiss my way up her hips and stomach gently, small pecks up her warm body, making my way to her face. The tear stained face I kiss every inch of, something I had started after the first time she cried, a mix of guilt and tenderness I felt for her compelling me to do so. When I finally reach her lips, I swipe my thumb under her eyes, cleaning off any more salty tears or cum. Unfortunately for Kate, going from eating pussy to kissing cheeks means mixing of bodily fluids.

A self confident smile on my face, I kiss my girl on the lips finally, her once limp mouth curving up into a small smile. I pull away, taking in her disbelieving expression. “Where the hell did that come from?” she asks, shaking her head slightly against my lips. “You’re pretty,” is all I say in response.

#kate martin #wcbb #wcbb fic #kate martin is my wife #(real)#kate martin x fem!oc #kate martin vs the bottom agenda #wrote this in my notes app pls let me know of typos #kate martin my beloved #kate martin is pretty and i went crazy #smut #smut and fluff #praise to the max #i genuinely cannot tell if her eyes are blue or green #FIRST REAL POST WOO!#ALSO THERE IS TEARS

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darkbluekies · 1 year

Text

The witty & uncanny pt 3 (finale)

Doctor!yandere OC x reader x mafia!yandere OC

Summary: Stuck with two yanderes, your life is now turned upside down. You're kept asleep and your body is breaking down. The yanderes have won.

Warnings: yandere duo, drugs/medicine, kidnapping, restraints, bruises, blood, "humiliation", “infantilization”, mentions of sexual intimacy, changing readers clothes when they're unconscious, throwing up, following reader to bathroom, washing reader, open ending, indication of reader dying(?), unhealthy behavior, toxicity, reader breaking(?), indication of Stockholm syndrome/giving in.

Word count: 5.8k

Part 2 the outtakes

You run the quickest you can, only hearing your own heartbeat in your own ears. You’ve never been this terrified in your entire life. The gun is still safely tucked away into the pocket of your black hoodie. Your legs are aching badly by now and soon enough, you have to stop to rest. Despite all the adrenaline you’re pumping in your veins, you’re still human. With a quick look around to make sure that you’re alone, you sink down with your back against a tree. You feel for the gun and sigh out, relieved that it's still there. You’re unsure if it is going to help you in this twisted situation, but you’re going to try your best. You can’t do more than that.

“Y/N!” Silas says.

You look around, seeing him stand a few meters away. In panic, you shoot up on your feet, but your legs refuse to move further. All you want is to run away, but the sight of him scares you to your core. But you know you have to flee before he wins again. He can’t win again, can’t get what he want. You pick up the gun in a shaking hand, hoping to see him scared … but all he does is smile. A nostalgic, almost fatherly smile.

“My favorite gun, I’ve missed it”, he says calmly and lifts his dark eyes to you. “But I’ve missed its new owner even more.”

“Leave me alone”, you warn him with make believe courage, “or else I’m going to shoot you.”

Silas lifts a black eyebrow. “Shoot me?”

“I shot the doctor.”

Silas smiles wider and takes a step forward. You force yourself to stand still with your head high. You can’t show how terrified you really are. He’s like a demon, he feeds of off your fear.

“I must be a bad influence on you, my little thing”, he snickers, putting his hand over his heart. “I never wanted you to take after me. It’s not safe for you. You’re my precious little darling, you shouldn’t run around with a gun. Give it to me and I will take you home safely.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“You really think that? You don’t think I have taken measures to make sure that you’re leaving with me?”

You're about to turn around and run when someone comes up behind you locks their arm around your waist. With a surprised yelp, your back gets pressed into a taller man's build. You squirm around and manage to catch a glimpse of the blonde doctor’s face behind you. You freeze and look back at Silas who’s grinning ear to ear. Less than a second later, a sharp pain from a needle shoots through your neck.

"Sleep tight", Dr Kry whispers.

You wake up in the same room you escaped from weeks ago. The only difference? Both your wrists are secured to the railings of the metallic bed by what looks like belt buckles. You start to wiggle your hands in hope of them slipping out, but whoever’s tied you has made sure that you’re not going anywhere.

The room is foggy no matter how much you blink. You wish you could rub your eyes, but your hands won’t move.

You try to speak, but you break out in coughs. Your throat is drier than a desert.

“They’re awake”, Silas says.

“Good”, Dr Kry answers.

“They don’t sound too good.”

“Just a side effect from the drug. They need to drink some water.”

You gasp, seeing the doctor move towards you with a paper mug in his hands. The closer he comes, the more you fight against the restraints. If he put drugs in your neck that easily, who knows what he could have put in the water?

“Be careful”, Dr Kry whispers and sits down on a rolling stool next to your bed. He helps you sit up before placing the paper mug to your lips. “Drink a little.”

You shake your head frantically.

“It’s just water, Y/N”, Dr Kry reassures you and takes a sip himself. “See? Harmless.”

"I don't want anything from you."

You start to squirm against the restraints again. You start to move your legs and manage to kick the paper mug out of his hands. The water splashes over his legs and your blanket. Dr Kry sighs heavily and for a second you’re scared that he’s going to do something to you. You shouldn't have acted so impulsive. Instead, he stands up and wipes his blue overalls.

“Seems like you have everything in control”, Silas snorts.

“As if you could do this better”, Dr Kry says and rolls his eyes.

“Oh, I know I can.”

Silas picks up the paper cup, walks into the bathroom and returns. You watch him carefully, studying his every step as you involuntarily shrink. You know very well what Silas is capable of and what he does when he’s denied anything.

Silas walks over to you, standing right beside your body. You force yourself to keep your eyes on the clock on the wall, to ignore his presence. Silas leans down to your ear.

“Either you drink this voluntarily or I’m forcing you to”, he whispers.

His hot breath fans your ear in an uncomfortable, animalistic manner. You shrink and swallow, nodding unnoticeably. Silas holds the cup to your lips gently and you open your mouth, letting the water in. Dr Kry watches in amazement how you swallow every single drop of the water. Silas smiles smugly and throws the paper cup in the trash.

“See, doc?” he purrs and puts his hand on your head, scratching your scalp. “I know how to control our little beast here.”

"Unbelievable", Dr Kry scoffs.

You finally turn your head away, being done with his embarrassment. You look down, noticing something.

"Where are my clothes?" you ask in horror.

Sometime during your involuntary nap, at least one of them changed you out of your black hoodie and jeans to a flimsy hospital gown.

"Your clothes are in the backseat of my car", Silas answers calmly. "Since you like to run around the town like a madman, I thought that if you want to do it again, you'll have to look like one as well."

Your mouth falls open "I-I want my clothes! You're striping me off of my individuality!"

"We're keeping you safe", Dr Kry says and grabs his keys. "Now, I'm going down to the cafeteria to get you something to eat. Any requests?"

"If you think I'm stupid enough to eat it-"

"I take that as a 'no', then."

With that said, Dr Kry leaves the room, locking the door behind him. Silas chuckles.

"That cheeky little bastard doesn't trust me", he says, eyes on the door. "He thinks I'm going to steal you away the very second I get you alone."

"Why wouldn't you?" you question.

Silas turns his dark eyes to you. "Because I gave my word to him. Unfortunately."

"So? You haven't kept your word earlier."

"Of course I have."

You scoff. "Like what? Name one time."

"I swore that I'd get you back." He tilts his head. "Didn't I hold that promise very well?"

You don't answer. You have to physically bite your tongue from spitting something out that you'll have to pay for dearly later on.

Dr Kry returns with a paper container.

"I got you meatballs", he says. "I hope that's fine."

"I'm not eating that", you mutter.

"I think you are. I don't think you've forgotten that your hands are a bit occupied — because those restraints seem to hurt — and if you want something, we have to do it for you … which means that we decide if you eat or not. Not you.” He holds the fork to your lips. “Now, open your mouth.”

You turn your head away.

“Don’t be a brat”, Dr Kry says.

“I don’t want to eat that!” you whine. “I don’t trust you!”

“I haven’t done anything to it, Y/N. Open up, please.”

Your stomach growls and you sigh, giving in. You open your mouth slightly, just enough to let the food in. Dr Kry smiles proudly. A string of brown sauce runs down your lips and he catches it with the fork before gently placing it into your mouth again, just like one would do with a baby. You cringe.

“I think our drooly baby here needs a bib”, Silas chuckles from his chair.

His embarrassing comments always ruins the mood. You pull yourself away form the food again and Dr Kry sighs, turning his head to the gang leader.

“Are you serious?” he hisses. “I just made them eat. You’re no help.”

Silas holds up his hands in front of him innocently, but his eyes sparkle with mischief. Dr Kry turns back to you and picks up a new spoonful of mashed potatoes and meatballs. You hesitate while glancing at Silas, waiting for him to make another comment.

“Don’t mind him”, Dr Kry says. “Just focus on me, okay?”

You move your eyes to the doctor. He sighs at your teary eyes.

“Does the restraint hurt?” he asks softly, caressing your left wrist over the belt-looking thing.

You have barely been able to feel the pain from the leather bands holding you down, but they do sting. You nod to his question, although it’s not the reason why you’re crying.

“I will remove them”, Dr Kry promises. “But I’ll have to do something else instead. We don’t quite trust you yet.”

“What are you going to do?” you whisper resentfully.

“I’m not sure yet. I’ll see.” He holds the fork to your lips again. “Open up again, please.”

You comply this time. In silence, you manage to eat the entire container full of food.

“Now you should take an afternoon nap”, Dr Kry says.

“I’m not a child”, you spit.

“You sure do act like one”, Silas says, raising one of his dark eyebrows. “Running away, throwing temper tantrums … shooting people.” He stands up from his chair. “If you want to act like one, we’ll treat you like one.”

“Until you start to act like an adult”, Dr Kry adds. “Until then, you better believe that we’ll keep on treating you like you’re five. Now, time for a nap.”

He helps you lie down again. You refuse to close your eyes, refuse to let them out of your sight. They don’t talk much to each other. Silas is sitting in his chair with his phone out and Doctor Kry is by his desk, filing paperwork.

You want to scream when you feel the need to go to the bathroom. For thirty minutes, you try suppressing it. Asking to go feels more humiliating than Silas wanting to give you a baby bib.

“I need to go to the bathroom”, you say lowly.

The two of them look up immediately.

“What did you say?” Dr Kry asks.

“Bathroom”, you repeat shortly.

“Absolutely. I'll help you.”

He stands up and walks over to the bed. You breathe out a sigh of relief as the restraints disappear from your arms. Quickly, you sit up and massage your sore wrists. There’s clear marks after the leather bands, a bit of blood as well. Dr Kry takes your hands in his, inspecting. He hisses.

“We’ll have to put bandage on that”, he says. “You shouldn’t have moved too much.”

Silas walks over to you to inspect your wrists. He twists and turns to see every angle before placing a kiss on both marks. You flinch, ripping your arms back in shock.

“Come now, Y/N”, Dr Kry says and puts his hand on your back. “Let’s go to the bathroom.”

“T-Together?” you question.

“You could hurt yourself. There are things in there you could use to harm yourself with. Im not letting that happen.”

Damn him and his professionalism.

You sigh heavily, giving up, silently relieved that it’s not Silas. Dr Kry follows you into the bathroom, standing by in silence. He doesn't give you a spare glance, staying as professional as he is. You wash your hands and sigh at the marks in your wrists.

"Let's get that patched up", he smiles.

"This is humiliating", you say weakly.

"It's just a precaution. I can't let you hurt yourself."

You show your wrists to him, eyebrows raised.

"That is a different case", he says.

A harsh knock can be heard on the door.

"Don't try anything, doc", Silas warns on the other side. "When are you coming out?"

Dr Kry massages his nose bridge with his index finger and thumb, sighing heavily. He unlocks the door and walks you out. While Dr Kry walks over to his desk, Silas walks back to his chair with his phone. You glance towards the door. Whatever Dr Kry had in mind to give you to substitute for the restraints will be sure to keep you bedridden. This is your only chance. None of their eyes are on you. Quickly, you shoot towards the door with all the power you have in your body. As on demand, the two men let go of their things and hurry after. You manage to grab the door handle before Silas has grabbed your shoulders and Dr Kry your arm.

"Where do you think you're going?" Silas asks, pulling you back.

"Let go of me!" you shout.

"Doc, whatever you had planned you better use it now."

Doctor Kry jogs over to his desk again and grabs a needle. You squirm in Silas’s grip and plead the doctor to put the syringe away.

"Stay still and it won't hurt as much", Dr Kry says, holding his hand on the base of your throat. "Deep breaths, count backwards from ten."

"No, please!" you scream desperately.

Silas covers your mouth with his rough hand and in the next second, the needle penetrates your skin. What feels like a stinging, burning sensation spirals through your body, effectively numbing it.

"Good job, almost there", Dr Kry praises. "Keep on breathing, you're doing great."

You feel your body growing weak in Silas embrace. He tightens his arms to keep you held up. You eventually stop fighting.

"Good job, Y/N, you did so well", Dr Kry smiles, removing the needle from your neck. "Silas, put them into bed."

Silas scoops you up like a bride on the wedding night and carries you back to your bed. Dr Kry starts to take care of your wrists and soon they're wrapped in white, comfy bandage.

After dinner — which consists of another meatball meal — they decide that you should go to sleep. But you refuse. They could do anything to you when you’re asleep. You don’t want to be moved again, you don’t want to be acknowledged.

“Y/N, close your eyes”, Silas says. “You’re just torturing yourself by being awake.”

“I don’t want to sleep!” you whine.

You wish that you could do something, but your body is feeling heavy and numb. You’re not sure where your limbs are or if they're held by one of the two men. Your body is already asleep, you should be too according to Silas and Dr Kry.

"Alright, I'm done with this", Dr Kry says after a long silence.

He stands up and walks over to the machines by your bed. You scurry to the other side of the bed with the little power you have left in your body.

"What are you doing?" Silas asks. "Don't do something without my approval."

"If Y/N won't sleep voluntarily, I'm going to help them", Dr Kry answers and lifts down a plastic mask connected to one of the machines by a tube. He pulls out a rubber band thats supposed to hold the mask latched onto the face. "Here, let me just put this over your nose and mouth-"

You cover the lower part of your face with your shaking hands. Your eyes glow with fear. They can numb your body until it's unmovable, but your eyes will always stay alert and alive.

"Y/N, please", Dr Kry sighs, putting his free hand over yours, about to pry yours off your face. "Just let me-"

You hide your face down in your arm. He stops and looks at you. Your body is trembling like a leaf swirling in the wind.

"Y/N, it's just anesthesia", he says comfortingly. "It'll help your mind relax so you can sleep. It's not going to hurt you."

He tries to move close again, but your crying halts his movements.

"Please …", you whisper weakly, shaking your head. "Please don't …"

Dr Kry sighs heavily, looks at Silas and then places the plastic mask on your stomach in defeat.

"Alright", he says. "I'm not going to force you. If you want to use it, just hold it over your mouth and inhale the gas."

He returns to his desk. Silas is about to stand up, but a particular strict gaze from the doctor makes him sit down again. He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. Sometimes you wonder if Silas is the one behaving like a child. After all, he throws tantrums, runs away from problems and shoots people. But if you said that out loud, you'd spend a month in his basement.

You stay awake for another hour out of spite, but you can feel how your body wants the sweet prize of sleep. You try to shut your eyes and drift of to sleep, but all the worries and thoughts about what they could do to you when you're out is stopping you from actually falling asleep. Your head is pounding with fear and minute by minute, you're slowly drifting to insanity.

You glance at the mask and hesitantly lift it to your face, making sure to cover both nose and mouth. Carefully, you give in and breathe the strong gas into your lungs. It doesn't take long until your head clouds up. The mask slips out of your hands and your head rests against the pillow.

Dr Kry looks up from his papers and sighs out in relief. Quietly, he moves over to you and picks up the mask, pulling out the rubber band to wrap around your head. The mask stays in place over your face.

"How long will that work?" Silas asks and stands up.

"It'll work for as long as we keep the mask on them", Dr Kry says. "We can make them sleep for as long as we want."

Silas fixes a strand of your hair that has been caught by the rubber band with a gentle smile.

"Are they usually this difficult?" Dr Kry wonders, raising a blonde eyebrow.

"Yes", Silas says. "That's why I've managed to develop a technique. You can't be soft with them, you have to be strict and force them. Otherwise they'll refuse and fight. Like today."

"No wonder they hate you."

Silas picks up the gun he stole back from you, placing it under Dr Kry’s chin. The blonde man doesn't react.

"They don't hate me", Silas growls. "Don't make me fucking shoot you."

"Are we back to this?" Dr Kry sighs, nodding his chin down on the gun testingly. "I have told you were to happen if you shoot me here. I wouldn't test my luck if I were you."

"You're such a clever thing, aren't you? God, you piss me off."

Nonetheless, Silas puts the gun back in his waistband. Dr Kry looks down at his phone, looking annoyed.

"I have to go help another doctor with a surgery, can you watch Y/N?" he asks. "Don't leave the room unless necessary and don't touch anything. Wrong button and you've hurt them."

"What will stop me from going through your drawers?"

"Your morality, I hope. I'll see you later."

With that said, he walks out and locks the door.

“‘Don't leave’, he said”, Silas scoffs and strolls over to your bed, lying down beside you. “How the fuck did he think I'd do that if he locks the door? My pretty baby, you are so precious, that pesky doctor doesn't know how to handle you.”

He knows you can’t hear him, but he finds it nicely to talk to you without you cursing at him in return. Silas smiles at you and pulls you closer to his body, hiding your face into his chest. He secures the rubber band in the back of your head with a small smile.

“Get the fuck of out the bed”, Dr Kry sighs as he enters the room two hours later. “You’ll break it.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I broke a bed”, Silas grins, pulling you closer to his chest.

Dr Kry grimaces. “Oh my God, be quiet, that’s disgusting.”

“Why? You’re a doctor, shouldn’t you be able to talk about those kind of things?”

“Do you ever just keep your mouth shut?”

“I could, but why not use my mouth for the greater good?”

“You’re not Superman, now get out of the bed.”

Silas sighs heavily and rolls his eyes. He starts to move out of the bed gently, making sure that you won’t get hurt. Before walking to the chair, he places a kiss on your forehead. With a smirk, he pets Dr Kry on the shoulder.

“Why so stiff, doc?” he asks amusingly, raising his eyebrows. “Haven’t you gotten laid in a while?”

“My sexlife is none of your business and yours is none of mine, so be quiet”, Dr Kry answers murderously cold and turns to his desk.

Silas smiles widely, almost like a school boy.

“You really like getting on people’s nerves, don’t you?” Dr Kry asks over his shoulder.

“No, just yours”, Silas smiles and sits down in his chair.

Dr Kry grits his teeth. “What an honor.”

Silas looks down at his phone, noticing a new message from his right hand man.

“Those stupid- … I have to go”, he growls and stands up, grabbing his coat. “Seems like I have to do everything myself! I’ll be back in an hour, don’t do anything to Y/N without my approval, got it?”

“Yeah, yeah, just go”, Dr Kry says. “If it’s urgent, take the back door, there’s a special elevator for that.”

“Thanks, doc.”

With that said, he runs out. Dr Kry decides to sneak over to you and fix your blanket and mask. He caresses your cheek and sighs out in satisfaction. You look so sweet. So innocent. He touches the bandage on your wrists. Why did you have to fight so harshly? He doesn’t like seeing you hurt.

Dr Kry sits by his desk until Silas is back, an hour later, blood covering his clothes.

“What happened?” Dr Kry gasps.

“Shit happened”, Silas mutters. “Can I take a shower or something?”

“Yeah, sure. There are a towel in the bathroom and a bathrobe for patients. Wash the clothes in the sink and hang them somewhere.”

“Thanks.”

Silas walks into the bathroom and undresses. He thinks about you and the hospital. There’s nothing he’d like more than to bring you home and keep you in his bedroom again, but it’s not safe for you. It never was, but he had nowhere else to keep you. Here, you have doctor Kry to keep an eye on you when he has to work … and no one knows you’re here. Maybe he should keep you here? The doctor has everything necessary to keep you where they want you. Silas sighs and runs his hand through his wet, black hair. The water is hitting him in the face, but there’s something comforting about it.

He returns ten minutes later, wearing the white bathrobe.

“Do you think Y/N could stay here long term?” Silas asks.

“Yes, of course”, Dr Kry answers. “This room is mine, I can keep whoever I want in here for as long as I want.”

“Perfect.” He sits down by your bed, lifting your hand and giving it a gentle kiss. “Doc, if I pay for every medicine you need, could you keep Y/N safe while I’m working?”

“I’d do it even if you didn’t pay me.”

Silas smiles slightly.

Days go by, turning into weeks. You’re kept asleep for the most part, only woken up to use the bathroom, eat and wash yourself. You’re too drowsy and confused to do anything yourself. The two men take turns in helping your limp body. It’s an exhausting, dissociation feeling. You don’t know what time nor day it is when you wake up, and you certainly don’t know how long they’ve kept you asleep. You barely feel real. You’re starting to wonder if the real you is a small spider in the corner of the room, looking at the half dead human in the bed.

You’re sitting completely bare in the bathtub, hugging your knees close to your chest as Silas washes your hair. You don’t care about neither Silas or Dr Kry seeing your most vulnerable areas anymore. They’ve seen it all by now and you’re too gone to care. They’re keeping you alive, you’re grateful for that. Almost … a little too grateful. A guilty, shameful gratefulness. You should take care of your own body, two men shouldn’t have to do it for you! You’re ashamed of letting your life be controlled by them, but you’re happy that they’re taking care of your basic needs — at least. You sigh. You have to get a grip of yourself before it’s too late.

There’s a heavy feeling that has started eating you up from the inside. Something is building up in your stomach and is resting in the bottom of your throat. You want to burp, but you’re not able to, it keeps getting stuck. Every part of your body is aching, everything is wrong and on edge. You can’t take it anymore and finally allow yourself to break down in tears. Silas is quick to turn off the shower and turn your body to him.

“What’s wrong, little thing?” he asks worriedly, fixing your wet hair.

“I feel so sick”, you sob.

“It’s okay, it’s just the medicine. It’ll go away.”

He holds your wet face between his hands and kisses your forehead.

“I know it’s hard”, he says. "But you're my little champion, aren't you?"

Through your tears, you manage to nod. You have to be some kind of champion after everything you’ve been through.

Silas smiles reaches for the shower handle. "Are you doing fine? Should I continue?"

You nod, feeling completely out of it. Is this state making you lose your mind? Why did you kiss him back? Why are you answering him at all? Why are you taking his words to heart? Get a grip on yourself. He continues to wash your hair, now more touchy after your accidental affection. You curl up, sighing. Get a grip.

You're lifted out of the tub in a towel. Silas helps you dress in the bathrobe and makes you stay in front of the mirror while he dries your hair with the towel.

"Look at yourself, look how pretty you are", he smiles, placing a kiss in the top of your head.

You shiver and shake your head. After these last couple of weeks in a make believe coma and being stuck with these men you can no longer feel any empathy towards you. You’re disappointed in yourself for starting to cave in and you look half dead. How can you be pretty?

“You don’t think you’re pretty?” Silas gasps and hugs you from behind. “Nonsense, baby. You’re the most beautiful thing on this wretched planet. I wish you could let me show you how much I adore you.” He kisses your neck. “I’d make you feel so good, make you feel like the only person in the world. You’d never doubt yourself again, I promise. Please, will you let me take care of you?”

You shake your head. If you give yourself to him, you’ll never get out of his grip again and you know that very well. The very thought of it makes you sick to your stomach once again. You hold your hand over your weirdly aching stomach, frowning. Something’s creeping up your throat.

“What’s wrong?” Silas asks.

“I still feel sick”, you whisper. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

Silas acts quickly. He pushes you towards the toilet, forces you down on your knees and opens the lid and pulls your hair out of your face.

“Go for it, I got you”, he says.

As if on commando — and maybe his rough actions — you empty everything Dr Kry’s forced down your throat the last few days. Your body hasn’t been able to digest much correctly when you’ve been forced to sleep for hours on end. You’re not sure much in your body is working right for the moment being.

“What’s going on?” Dr Kry asks worriedly and enters the bathroom. “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

“You’re the doctor!” Silas says. “Shouldn’t you know?”

“I’ll do an examination. When they’re done, take them out to the bed and I’ll take a look.”

Silas nods and turns to you, helping you.

“You’re doing good, Y/N”, Silas says. “Get it out.”

“It smells”, you whine with a grimace.

“You’re a champion, baby, aren’t you? You can push through.”

You whine tiredly. After a few more minutes of pure hell, you’re finally empty. Silas wipes your mouth with some paper and flushes the toilet. He carries you back to the bed where Dr Kry is waiting. You’re sat down.

“Okay, Y/N”, Dr Kry says. “I have some suspicions, but I need to test you.”

He performs a medical test on you to make sure that his medicine hasn't had too bad of an effect on you. He's counted on you feeling weak and heavy, but he couldn't have prepared himself for your digestion giving up.

"What's wrong with me?" you ask carefully, fearing the worst.

"I'm afraid that your digestion might need some help." Dr Kry reaches for the oxygen mask. "I'll figure something out while-"

"No, please don't make me sleep again!"

Dr Kry halts with the mask in hand.

“I think it’s the gas making me like this …”, you say. “Doctor, please don’t make me sleep again, I’ll be quiet and let you work.”

“I’ll keep an eye on them, doc”, Silas says, moving closer to the bed. “Just work.”

Silas sits beside you and lets you play games on his phone. He smiles gently everytime you manage to win a round of Candy Crush. Dr Kry smiles from his desk at your focused facial expressions. The two men relax, finally you’re showing some signs of giving it. You’re not crying, not fighting, just enjoying the moment by distracting yourself. They hope it can stay like this, but they both know all of this is on borrowed time.

“Do you still feel sick?” Dr Kry asks after a while.

“I’m feeling weird, but I’m not sure how to describe it”, you say quietly, suddenly shrinking again when remembering your awful situation. “It’s a bit better after I got to throw up … but I’m scared to eat. I don’t want to feel like that again.”

“I’m going to go get some tea for you to see if it can help your digestion. After that, I think you should go back to sleep.”

Dr Kry leaves the room. You turn to Silas with pleading eyes.

“Why do I have to sleep?” you ask carefully. “I don't want to. It’s so terrifying waking up and not knowing how much time has passed. I’m missing out on life …”

“When you’re asleep, you don’t have to feel any of the bad feelings or see what a horrible place we live in”, Silas answers, fixing your hair. “You’re safe from everything.”

You look down in your lap to get away from those dark, lovesick eyes of his. Silas slides over his phone to you again.

“Distract yourself, baby”, he says. “You’ll soon get some tea and then you’ll be feeling better. Keep on playing your little games. You look so cute when you focus.”

You decide to keep your mouth shut and do what he says. You manage to do two rounds of Subway Surfers before Dr Kry is back with a steaming cup in his hand.

“Here, Y/N”, he says and gives you the cup. “This should get your organs up and running.”

“I won’t throw up again, right?” you ask carefully.

“No, you won’t.”

You sip on it, taking your sweet time with a glance towards the oxygen mask. Will this be your life from now on? Kept asleep and only awoken when someone else wants you to be?

“Are you done?” Dr Kry asks after a while.

You look down in the cup. Empty. You gulp.

“No …”, you lie and pretend to take another sip.

“You’ve been sitting with that for ten minutes now. If you’re not done with it, it’s mostly likely ice cold by now.”

“When I’m done, you’ll make me sleep …”, you say. “So if i don’t finish it you can’t make me.”

“You little brat”, Silas laughs. “You’re so cute.”

“Why don’t you want to sleep, Y/N?” Dr Kry asks. “You’re not having to worry about anything, you can just relax. We’re waking you up when there’s nothing bad happening.”

“It’s not fair”, you whisper, shaking your head.

“Life’s not fair, peach”, Silas says and stands up, grabbing the mask. “Time to nap, little thing. Don’t worry, we will be here to protect you.”

You want to fight back, want to protest, but your body has given up. You know that there’s no use. They’ll get their way no matter how much you disagree. The mask gets once again placed over your face.

“Such a good patient”, Dr Kry praises as if he’s read your thoughts. “Letting us do whatever we want to you.”

You send him a gaze you intend to be a glare, but your head has already fogged up. Silas helps you lay down and the last thing you feel before everything turns into that familiar yet terrifying pitch blackness, is the soft pillow against your back. Silas tucks you in, making sure that none of your limbs are in any uncomfortable position. He sighs, stepping back. The two men look at each other with fear in their eyes, both knowing that this won’t work forever. Today was only one sign of the damage they do to you. Your body will fully break down someday, and that day might be the day they’ll lose you forever. But for now, they’ll keep you in the land of dreams where nothing can hurt you — not even you.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere fics #yandere mafia #yandere stories #yandere oc x you #yandere doctor #yandere duo #yandere scenarios #yandere oneshots #yandere series #yandere ocs x reader #yandere ocs #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc

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spicybunni · 8 months

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❤️ASHLEY AS A HUSBAND❤️

Hello darlings!! These are a few headcanons of my yandere OC Ashley, the mob boss who can’t get enough of you. Hope you like him!

WARNINGS ⚠️: NSFW MENTIONS, SMUT, YANDERE TENDENCIES, FORCED MARRIAGE, VIOLENCE (not to reader), BLOOD MENTION

❤️Before we get into it, The marriage was not consensual by any means on your end. Ashley forced you saying it’s for your own good and that you and your family will be safe. Which sounded like a threat more than anything. You agreed to it only for the sake that he doesn’t harm your loved ones.

❤️He forced you because the word of his infatuation with you, a local waiter, got out to his rivals. He didn’t want to ruin your life with violence. So he decided to ruin it with a forced marriage.

❤️As a husband, Ashley was very traditional. He would come home after doing business. Sometimes with a little blood on his clothes or some skinned knuckles from throwing punches.

❤️Regardless of how he looked he would come to you before anything else and give you a kiss on the cheek. Ask you about your day and sit down in the living room.

❤️Your stomach would flip whenever he came near you with blood on his suit. Looking like a damn maniac with a smile on his face indifferent to whoever’s blood is splattered on him as he hugs you.

❤️He was more than happy to consummate the marriage after half a year living together. You hated him and everything he stood for, but your feelings, being cooped up in the mansion, and the way his stupid hair falls on his face as he looks at you- it all has gotten to you!

❤️Ashley couldn’t get enough after that. But his number one rule was to always have you come to him for it. Sometimes you would just awkwardly come into the living room, face flushed and lightly sweating as you avert your gaze. You’d place a hand on his shoulder as he sat in the armchair. He’d look up from either the paper or book he’s reading, smirk at your state, and take your hand upstairs.

❤️Ashley couldn’t care less about how adorably awkward you are downstairs when in the bedroom your ass bounces off his dick so divine.

❤️His plan was to tease you with how good it felt when you gave into your desires. Rubbing the head of his cock on your soaking entrance, holding your legs down in a press. Ashley’s erection would become painfully more hard when you let out whines and begs for him to get on with it.

❤️Least to say you were so cock drunk that you could care less in the moment if he came inside you.

❤️ This man is rough to say the least, but you love it. The way he holds your head down as your ass is in the air being pounded by him. His belt being used to tie your hands to the headboard of the bed while he does sinful things down below.

❤️DO NOT CATCH AN ATTITUDE WITH HIM❌ it will end in you drooling into the sheets as your body gets an pleasurable attitude adjustment.

“Sweetie, sweetie-Hey. Look at me while I make you a mess you hear me? That’s it. Atta darlin’…ah-fuck!”

❤️Even though he coats your insides to the brim with cum, he cleans you up nicely. He’ll grab a towel from the connected bathroom and wipe your sweat while you come down from your bliss.

❤️After two years being forcefully married, your life was actually simplified. No need to stress on bills, you actually had a chance at doing your little hobbies, and you can afford all the foods you’d like to cook. Ashley also would gift you clothes you liked instead of repurposing rags for your uniforms and pajamas. He would whistle when you’d walk out of the changing rooms in a new outfit. Making you do slow twirls for him.

❤️There were times where logic would come back into your mind to tell you this dynamic wasn’t right, you had to leave.

❤️But Ashley will never let that happen. His protocol if you were to ever try and escape is that all his men would be on the lookout for you, then have all his patrons in the district report to him if they spotted you.

❤️Ashley would never hurt you, but in a scenario where you tried to escape he would isolate you to a single bedroom for a month. It would take lots of time to earn his trust again after that.

❤️But that’s all hypotheticals for now….

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere x gn reader #yandere mob boss #yandere smut

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wqnwoos · 1 year

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on idiocy, bugs and the prospect of forever.

idiots 2 lovers & best friends to lovers / minor minor angst? bc oc is losing their mind / unnecessary use of bugs as plot progression (it will make sense i swear)

you and vernon have been dancing on the cusp of friendship and something more for too long now.

at least, that’s what you think. you’re not entirely sure what he thinks, given how quiet he can be sometimes. maybe you’re just misreading the whole situation! maybe your big fat crush on him is completely unrequited and he sees you as nothing more than a best friend! a best friend he likes to watch movies with and make soup for and brush hands with and look at for unnecessarily extensive periods of time!

which is exactly why you’ve been so — silent around him, lately. usually, you’re comfortable enough with him to babble his ear off about whatever you feel like. trains. worms. cats. the flaws in the schooling system which are leading to the collapse of true education. anything you want, you know vernon will listen. but these days, your weekly movie nights are starting to descend into quietude, as you become more and more flustered with trying to hide your feelings.

unfortunately for you, vernon is observant.

“okay,” he speaks suddenly — sudden enough to make you jump — pausing 20th century girl on screen. “enough,” he continues, turning on the sofa to face you. “talk to me.”

slowly, you blink at him. “about something in particular, or…?”

he frowns. “yes. about whatever’s been bothering you for the past… few weeks.”

ah. you bite down on your lower lip, immediately dropping his concerned gaze.

“you know, i tried to,like, give you space, because usually after a week or two, you just let it out. in your own time. but this just keeps going, so i’m asking you instead.”

heat is rising to your cheeks, creeping up your neck. you don’t know what to say. how do you tell him — i think i may be crushing on you harder than anyone has ever crushed before? you can’t.

“are you mad at me? did i do something?” vernon questions, his eyes going wider at the thought.

“no!” you splutter quickly, shaking your head for emphasis. “no. i’d tell you if i was mad at you.”

vernon nods then, and waits.

you look away. the open sincerity and concern in his pretty brown eyes is only making this harder — because all you want to do is fling your arms around his neck and kiss his face off. and you shall not let these thoughts win. you refuse!

your best friend sighs at your continued silence, and he scoots closer, so you guys are practically touching. “look at me,” he says softly.

despite your vows, you listen to him immediately, your eyes tentatively flickering up to meet his. you’re so close to him that you can feel the warmth radiating off his body — you can see the way each eyelash rests gently against his skin — the way his lips part ever so slightly.

a small sound escapes him, like his breath has gotten caught in his throat; just when you think he’s going to speak, his mouth closes, and he just… gazes. directly into your eyes — the most tender, heated gaze you have ever felt in your life.

you suck in a breath. “vernon —”

“just a sec,” he whispers, and one hand comes up to — ever so gently — brush against your face.

you jolt backwards, blinking fast and horrified. “oh my god. there’s a bug on my face, isn’t there?”

vernon startles at your sudden movement, barely registering your words, but you’re gasping and moving closer, with wide, pleading eyes. “vernon! get it off!” you demand, tipping your face in his direction.

when he doesn’t move, you grow increasingly frantic. “vernon! can you please — oh!”

and you cut yourself off with a noise of surprise; because vernon takes your face carefully between his hands, lips colliding with yours in a firm, bruising kiss — one that leaves you gasping with its intensity.

he pulls away too fast.

“shit,” he breathes, closing his eyes for a long second. “i didn’t mean to — well, i did, but — ” he pauses for a moment, and sighs. “god, you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that.”

then his eyelids flutter open — eyes wide, fixed on yours to gauge your reaction, hands slowly leaving your cheeks.

you, on the other hand, are gaping wordlessly at him. like a goldfish. the only thing you manage is a squeak — which may possibly be the most humiliating sound you’ve ever made.

just before his hands retreat fully, you grab them in yours, opening your mouth — before you pause. “there was no bug,” you say breathlessly.

vernon’s head tilts to the side, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “there was no bug,” he agrees.

“you were pulling a move.”

“i was, indeed, pulling a move.”

“okay,” you nod slowly, still breathless. “just… give me a moment here. i think i’m processing.”

his smile grows, his eyes soft and fond. “okay.”

your eyes fall on your interlaced hands, noticing how his thumbs gently caress your skin. “wow. wow. that was — that was good.”

“oh?” he raises a brow. “you liked?”

you nod a little too quickly. “are you kidding? i’ve wanted to kiss you for like, fifty billion years now!”

a snort escapes his mouth, and he squeezes your hands. “i can make up for that,” he promises softly.

the beam you give him in return is half your answer; the other half comes in the way you wrap your arms around him and pull him in for another kiss. this time softer, sweeter — slower. like forever is stretching out in front of you.

an / a bit of a longer one this time (sorry) !! they’re idiots and i love them. love u guys (and thanks for well over 200!! idk where you all are coming from but i love u 💗💕💞💓💘)

#vernon fluff #seventeen fluff #vernon x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen fic #seventeen imagines #vernon comfort #vernon scenarios #vernon x y/n #vernon angst #seventeen fanfic #seventeen vernon #vernon fic #vernon fanfic

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derlost · 6 months

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Don’t mind me, just thinking about bunny boys…

ABOUT: Wouldn’t it be so great to own a sweet little bunny boyfriend? WARNINGS: Proofread, nsfw (below cut), mentions of crying, mostly fluff & vanilla, male reader

🎀🧸🍰🤍

Thinking about cute little bunny boys. Absolute innocent sweethearts that would curl up in your lap and beg you to cuddle them, tearing up in delight as you coo into their plush ears, reassuring them that they are your favorite.

🎀☁️Cute bunny boys who smell like roses and taste like cotton candy, who enjoy warm baths with you, because it just makes them feel at home. You would ask him to fill up the tub and he’d most certainly oblige, even taking the extra step to light candles and put bubble bath in. When you wash his perky rabbit ears, he’ll giggle in delight as you itch his favorite spot. He’ll sigh happily as he lays between your legs, smiling innocently.

🎀☁️ Cute bunny boys who take care of you, cooking and cleaning, being absolutely perfect in order to please you. After a long day, you would return to an orderly home with floors so clean that they shine, and music coming from the kitchen. There stands your adorable little bunny, dressed in a soft pink apron, cooking you dinner. A giggle would escape his lips as he sets down his wooden spoon and wraps you in a hug, whispering “I missed you” into your ear.

🖇️🖤 Naughty little bunny boys who act so innocent in front of you when in reality, their minds wander to the darkest of places. If you can’t bathe with him, it’s not a problem- he’ll secretly lube himself up after his bath before climbing into bed, hiding himself under layers of blankets as he waits for you to find him.

🖇️🖤 Naughty bunny boys who cry when you tease them, acting as if they weren’t the one that got you riled up. He’ll cry and plead for you to stuff him full, crystalline tears wetting his pretty face as he clings to your shirt and whimpers for you. His ears will go flat against his head, and he’ll beg and beg until he goes dumb and loses his voice.

🖇️🖤 Naughty bunny boys who beg for you, only to cry when you finally fill them up. Pretty tears drip from his lashline and drool escapes the corner of his lips as you pound into him, kissing all along his neck, leaving him breathless. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” you find yourself saying, tightening your grip on his waist. But your precious bunny can only nod and let out a muffled ‘uh-huh’, too spent to even listen.

🖇️🖤 Naughty bunny boys who cherish your seed so, treating it as if it were liquid gold. To him at least, it really was- and even when he knows that he can’t get pregnant, his desire clouds his senses, and all he can focus on is you breeding him. After you spill your seed into him, he begs for you to stay inside- to keep it all plugged into him. When you do have to pull out however, he’ll absolutely insist that you use a pretty pink glass butt plug on him- he just can’t stand to be apart from your seed!

🧸🩷 Loving bunny boys who snuggle up in your arms after you’re both spent and tired, cuddling you to sleep. He would rest his pretty head on your chest, and would stay comfortably tucked to your side for the entire night. If you move, that’s fine- because he’ll move too. He loves nothing more than feeling you in his arms- and being your cherished one. You’re the only one he loves, and you make him so very happy…

🍰🤍 Author’s note: Hello everyone! So I know this is kind of unexpected, but lately i’ve been suuuuper fixated on bunny boys- i’m even thinking of making an oc and posting stories about him on tumblr! I’ve been active a lot more (can u tell? ;)) and i’ve also had a lot more free time on my hands, so requests are open! Per usual please like, comment, and repost if you enjoyed. Feedback is super appreciated, because as a small author, it lets me know that people see and like my work! In any case, thank you for reading!

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thelovelylolly · 8 months

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Comfort

Summary: you go comfort Loki in the dungeons after Frigga's funeral. Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, mention of death, little argument but its itty bitty, reader is implied to be more fem and has similar abilities to loki, let me know if i missed anything :) Notes: in honor of loki season two coming out this week, here's loki content! i love him so much and this will probably get worse when the show comes out (I MEAN THOSE SHOTS OF HIM IN A SUIT????? YALL) also i wrote this with one of my ocs in mind, so sorry if there are any more specific details than usual :)

Loki watched as you glided down the dungeon stairs, making a gesture to the guards to put them at ease. You stopped in front of his cell, your body and usual outfit concealed by a black, mourning cloak. Loki could see dried tear streaks on your cheeks, but your expression was neutral.

“What are you doing here?” He spat, pacing slowly.

“I’m here to see if you’re okay,” you replied calmly.

Loki scoffed. “You come down here to comfort me instead of fighting against my father’s orders, like you always did, so I could mourn my mother with the rest of Asgard.”

“I did try, but Odin didn’t budge.”

“Well, you didn’t try hard enough.”

A tense moment of silence followed, then you turned to the guards.

“Please let me into the prince’s cell,” you ordered in a calm voice.

The guards quickly obeyed and you stepped in, the cell closing you in with Loki. Then, you used your magic to shield the both of you from the rest of the world, casting an illusion to everyone outside the cell and sound proofing it.

“I know you’re frustrated-“

“Frustration can’t begin to describe what I’m feeling!” He exclaimed, causing you to flinch at his tone, but you quickly regained your composure.

“But you did this to yourself, Loki! You weren’t able to go to Frigga’s funeral because of your decisions and the consequences of them!” You paused to take a deep breath. “I was there when she died. I tried to defend her, but they were stronger than I am. I wish…I wish I took that blade instead of her, but I can’t change that, just like how I can’t change what you did and your punishment.”

Loki’s cold gaze softened a bit, his jaw clenching as he turned his back to you. “You don’t understand any of this, darling.”

“Maybe you forget that she was the closest thing I had to a mother. She is the reason I met you, that I allowed myself to fall for you. It’s because of her that we were allowed to court, Loki. I do understand this, I understand you.”

Loki didn’t answer, allowing you to keep going.

“The first night you spent down here, I went to Frigga. I needed to talk to someone about you, about my feelings, and I knew she would be there for me. After I talked things out, she told me she had hope for you. She wanted you to be better, and she wanted to free you from here as soon as she thought you had learned your lesson. She loved you, she wanted you and I to run away from Asgard to live our lives peacefully and happily. She…she wanted us to be married and start a family like we dreamed about. She wanted you, her son, to be happy.”

You saw Loki’s shoulders start to tremble as soft sobs escaped his lips. He quickly crumbled to the ground, his hands covering his face as he broke down into sobs. You quickly went around him and crouched in front of him, your cloak pooling around you two. Your arms wrapped around his neck and he hid his face in your shoulder, soaking the fabric of your cloak with his tears.

You held him tightly, running a hand through his hair comfortingly. You felt tears of your own start to form, but you blinked them away quickly. You had cried enough, now you needed to comfort your love.

After a few minutes like that, Loki pulled his face away and met your gaze. You cupped his cheeks and wiped away any stray tears. The sight of his bloodshot eyes and tear stained cheeks broke your heart.

“I love you, Loki,” you whispered softly, your voice shaking with emotion.

“I love you, too,” he replied just as quietly.

His hands fell to your waist, holding you close as he pressed his forehead to yours. You didn’t kiss, neither of you wanted to. You just wanted this. The quiet, the closeness, the vulnerability. Loki was scared to show this much emotion to you, even though you two were in love. He didn’t want to burden you or make you think he was weak. Maybe he did regret what he did, but only because he nearly lost you.

“Loki…” You said softly, trailing off as you slowly pulled away from him.

“I know,” he replied, letting you go.

You stood up and walked past Loki, who was still on his knees on the floor.

You stopped, looking over your shoulder. “My illusion will last for at least another hour. I will be back tomorrow.”

With that, you left the cell. Loki watched as you glided up the stairs, your cloak trailing behind as you disappeared and left him alone once again.

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufesyon x reader #loki fanfic #loki fanfction #loki laufeyson fanfic #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel fanfic

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solefae · 2 months

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WE CAN’T BE FRIENDS. jey uso

summary; Lauren navigates the turbulent waters of fame and a complex relationship with Jey Uso. Amidst the relentless paparazzi and invasive media, Lauren struggles with the public’s perception of her personal life. Jey offers her solace, but the boundaries between friendship and romance blur, leaving Lauren to grapple with the reality that their relationship may never escape the public eye.

gif credit (1, 2)

Lauren’s POV

The camera flashes were blinding, the whispers loud, and the rumors… they were suffocating. I leaned against the cool marble of the vanity, my reflection a stranger draped in designer threads and a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. They called it paradise, this city of angels, but even heaven had its demons.

“Yo, Lauren, you good?” Jey’s voice cut through the fog of my thoughts, his reflection appearing beside mine. He was the calm in my storm, the eye of my hurricane.

I nodded, the lie as smooth as the lipstick I wore. “Yeah, just tired, you know?”

He didn’t buy it, never did. “Talk to me, L. This ain’t just ‘tired.’”

The truth bubbled up, a wave threatening to crash. “It’s the media, Jey. They twist everything. Can’t step out without some story spinning outta control.”

Jey’s hand found mine, his grip firm. “Forget them. It’s just noise.”

But it wasn’t just noise. It was a cacophony that haunted my dreams, a past lover’s betrayal turned into headlines, a relationship dissected for public consumption. We were the it-couple, the story too juicy to ignore, our love a spectacle.

“We can’t be friends,” I murmured, the words a mantra that kept the world at bay.

Jey’s eyes met mine, a storm of their own brewing. “Who says we’re just friends?”

I wanted to believe in us, in the possibility that love could survive the spotlight. But as another flash pierced the night, I wondered if we were just another headline waiting to be written.

a/n: had a little help a from a friend for this, wondering should this be a series or nah. What y’all think? 🤭

taglist!

@kumapassion @oc-helps @truefant4sy

@yeaiamme2 @cody-uso @riverina69

@mynameisnotlaura

(lemme know if you want to be tagged!) 🤍✨

#jey uso #jey uso x reader #the bloodline #main event jey uso #wwe x reader #joshua fatu #jey uso fanfiction #jey uso imagine #jey uso x black reader #jey uso x fem reader #wwe fanfiction

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runnning-outof-time · 8 months

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There’s Something About These Grounds… | Tommy Shelby x Mrs Shelby & Reader

Request: no - written for @zablife ‘s 2k celebration and @little-diable ‘s 15k celebration

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Mrs Shelby & Reader

Summary: Mrs Shelby takes a walk and stumbles upon a dark secret that is hidden on the grounds of Arrow House. She's given a warning about the future of her family, a warning that makes her new husband wonder if she should even leave the house at all.

Warnings: language, drinking, smoking, paranormal themes, implications of past and future miscarriages (nothing in detail), implications of suicide (nothing in detail)

Word Count: 3317

A/N: I…I’m not 100% sure what this is, but hey, I finished it - I think we’ll call it my best attempt at writing something that’s the complete opposite of fluff haha. I’ve given Mrs Shelby a name…she’s an OC but reader is also present here. Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: Lee and Chi - congratulations on your amazing milestones!! I’m so thankful that you’re both part of this amazing community…I can’t imagine it without you! Thanks also to Chi for allowing me to play around with the prompt - it’s bolded/italcized in the story…I hope I still got the gist of it!

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message Me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

The landscape got darker and more overgrown with each step Mrs Shelby took. She wondered why she'd decided to take a walk away from the manor that she resided in. At one point, she even considered abandoning her original idea and turning back to the house. But then she reasoned that anything would be better than being cooped up inside those dark walls for yet another day.

Her marriage to the man who owned the very estate she was walking on, Thomas Shelby, can only be described as a whirlwind. No one in either of their families knew of it happening until after the license was signed and they had taken a trip to Paris. What had bright promises at first now felt like the beginning of a prison sentence for the young woman.

It was Tommy's family that insisted they have the party that was taking place today. The bride was weary about it - she was never one to jump into the spotlight during social events, but Tommy's methods of convincing made it hard to say 'no'. He assured her that she'd be in control; that when she'd say that she'd reached her limit, the party would be over. It eased her worries when she agreed to it, but now that the day of the party was here, she was feeling uneasy once again.

So, in hopes to quell her building nerves, Mrs Shelby decided that she would escape the house and take a walk on its expansive grounds.

The landscape seemed to turn a darker shade of green the further she walked away from the manor, but she reasoned that the worry of being amongst some overgrown trees was affecting her much less than the worry of what would be happening later this evening.

She continued walking until she came upon a pond. The small body of water was surrounded by trees and shrubbery, and the fog that hung low over it added an eerie vibe to the atmosphere. As Mrs Shelby got closer to the pond, she noticed a woman standing in the middle of it.

"Hello?!" she called out, confusing quickly filling her as she walked closer to the water’s edge with caution. "Excuse me," she spoke again when the woman didn't respond or even turn to face her.

From her short distance away, she could see that this lady looked almost white, as if she'd been submerged in the cold water for too long and had lost all color. Her hair was wet and flat on her head, sticking to the skin of her shoulders that could be seen above the water.

Mrs Shelby felt a chill run through her body as she stayed focused on the mysterious woman, who still hadn't moved despite the other making her presence very known. "This is private property, you know," Mrs Shelby tried another direction, hoping that her voice held the authority that was needed to finally make the lady face her. But her words did nothing.

Frustration seeped into her bones as she willed herself to move even closer to the pond's edge. Maybe she didn't hear me, she reasoned as she prepared to call out again. But just as she opened her mouth, the woman completely submerged herself under the water, leaving not a trace of her behind. This made Mrs Shelby frantic. She looked everywhere - even kneeling down on the muddy ground and straining her eyes to see if she could spot her underwater - wondering how the lady could disappear from sight just like that.

The sudden voice that came from behind her made her jump.

"These woods are no one's property, darling." It had to be the woman who was in the water. Mrs Shelby was hesitant to turn and face the person, but when she did, she found the woman, who had disappeared just moments ago, standing beside her. She noticed that she was no longer wet, and was wearing a worn, white slip, something that was too cold to be wearing on a dark, autumn day. "They belong to nature."

"My husband would say differently," Mrs Shelby tried to stay calm, standing up and jutting her chin upwards slightly in hopes it would add to her act of confidence. She didn't want this woman to know that she was actually shaking in her shoes.

"Your husband does not know what he stands for," the woman was quick to say.

"Who-who are you and why are you here?" Mrs Shelby decided to ask, her voice faltering only slightly.

"My name is (Y/N)," the woman responded, "this is my home."

The second part of her statement made Mrs Shelby scoff slightly. "Impossible. My husband and I own these grounds. They've been in his hands for four years now," she spoke in a refuting tone.

"Don't be silly, Eloise. These grounds have changed hands many times," the strange woman countered, uttering a laugh of her own at the face that Mrs Shelby pulled when her name was said.

"How do you know my name?"

"I know things," (Y/N) spoke frankly. "I know things about you, about your husband. I know why your marriage occurred in the manner it did...it's not for the reason you keep telling yourself."

"I don't know what you mean..." Mrs Shelby wasn't sure if she actually wanted clarification.

"Tommy was lonely. He couldn't cope with himself, with his business and its demands. The whores weren't doing it for him anymore, and even though I told him that he could keep coming to see me, it wasn't enough for him. He needed someone who would be by his side constantly. Someone who could appease him physically. It's unclear to me why he chose you...since it seems you'd rather be away from him then by his side." (Y/N) ended her explanation by looking the other woman over, an unimpressed look present on her face.

"He and I love each other," Mrs Shelby tried to be indignant, but she didn't quite believe the declaration herself.

"That's what you try so hard to believe," (Y/N) snorted at the thought.

Mrs Shelby felt slighted by these words. She hastily tried to muster up the ability to take back the conversation, since it was clearly falling into (Y/N)'s hands. "We do. We've spoken of starting a family, of completing our home...a little brother or sister for Charlie." (Y/N) only laughed at what was said. Mrs Shelby scoffed at her reaction. "How dare you react in that way! This is not a laughable matter," she insisted, glaring at the grinning woman.

"You are so naïve to believe that it'll be that simple; that your wishes will be granted," (Y/N) stated, shaking her head. Silly woman, she thought.

"I don't see why they wouldn't be," Mrs Shelby furrowed her eyebrows at the other woman's cryptic statement.

"You've not lived here long enough to know what'll happen...to know what fate befalls every woman that sets foot on this property."

"What are you saying?"

"It's the land, Eloise. It's cursed. It took my babies, and it'll take yours too," (Y/N) words had an ominous tone to them, making Mrs Shelby shiver as she heard them. Nothing could have prepared her for what would come out of the other woman's mouth next: "it kept me here to make sure of it."

A mortified look formed on Mrs Shelby's face while a smirk formed on (Y/N)'s. The former of the two stayed frozen in her spot as the latter slowly retreated back into the trees that surrounded the eerie pond.

Even if Mrs Shelby wanted to, she couldn't ask the strange woman what her ominous message meant because (Y/N) had slipped completely out of sight. She'd practically vanished into thin air.

The conversation left Mrs Shelby reeling; questioning if any of it was even real. She tried blinking her eyes several times, wondering if doing so would do the trick of waking her up. Yes...maybe this is all just a twisted dream. But it wasn't. She was still standing out in the middle of the forest, the fog-covered pond still in front of her; the bottom of her dress still covered in the mud of the bank she kneeled on. So many questions were swirling through her mind as she grappled with what was real and what could possibly be made up.

She knew two things for certain: one, she couldn't stay out here a second longer, and two: she needed to speak to Tommy about this immediately.

Mrs Shelby was completely out of breath when she reached the doors to Arrow House. She rushed inside, squeezing herself through the people who were working hasilty to make sure finishing touches were in place before the party started. She gave them no thought as she frantically looked for her husband, moving so quickly through the crowd that she hadn't noticed he was in front of her until his hands were grabbing hold of her shoulders.

"Where're you running to, love?" Tommy asked, his brows furrowed as he took in the sight of his distraught wife. He watched closely as she took several breaths to calm herself down, and he placed pressure on her collarbones with his thumbs, hoping that it would aid the process.

"Tommy, I...I went out t-to walk and followed the, the path down to the trees, and then I walked further in and I just kept walking until I reached a p-pond, and I, I, I uh I didn't...I didn't..."

"Hey, slow down, Eloise," Tommy cut off his wife's frantic rambles with a steady voice, "catch your breath first before you talk again," he suggested, seeing her nod before he brought his hands from her shoulders up to her cheeks. He caressed them softly as he let his eyes drift over her body. "What's happened, eh? Why is your dress muddy?" he asked, his brows furrowing together again.

"I was telling you, I...I found a pond. And there was a woman in it."

"A woman?" Tommy was taken back by the information.

"Yes. She, she was in the water when I first saw her, but then she came to me and she, she...Tommy, we need to leave. We need to leave here, now," her voice might have been shaky, but she still said the final word with the dire emotion it needed.

"Why would we do that, darling?" he needed to ask, now full of confusion.

"We have to leave here if we want to have the family we talk about. We can't have a baby here, Tommy," the fear filling her body was present in her words.

"You're confusing me, Eloise," he bluntly said, hoping she'd get to the point of her worries and stop dancing around the problem.

"To keep them alive, Tommy," she spoke with a sense of urgency, "there's something in the woods...a woman...she said that she's going to take our babies."

Tommy took a few moments to let what was just said sink in. The cogs in his mind were now turning at the second mention of this woman. He knew now that it was no mistake made by his frantic wife. She must've encountered (Y/N). Just the thought of that happening made his blood run cold. He needed to think of a way to deflect this; to make her believe that this was nothing to be worried about. "I think you might have been outside for too long, love. Why don't you go upstairs and change for the party, eh?" he suggested, his eyebrows raised, showing that even though he'd asked a question, his suggestion wasn't actually up for debate.

"But I didn't...I know it wasn't..."

"Go on, love," he cut her off as she fumbled for the words, nodding his head towards the stairs. "Everyone's almost here."

Mrs Shelby bit on her lip as she fought to keep everything inside. It felt like she was on the brink of a breakdown, and Tommy surely had to see that. Why was he trying to diminish the situation? Didn't he care to know more of why she was reacting the way she was? Did he even want the family they had talked about? All of these questions were bouncing around Mrs Shelby's mind as her husband looked expectantly at her. There was no way that she could bring the conversation back now. It was over.

So she nodded her head ever-so slightly, silently agreeing with what he wanted her to do. That was all Tommy needed from her. He dropped his hold from her, leaning in to press a quick kiss to her lips before he mumbled 'good' and left her side. Mrs Shelby stood there for a moment, still overwhelmed from everything that had happened. But there was only one thing she could do now: get ready for the party and hope for the best.

"Fuck," Tommy breathed as he paced the floor of his office. He brought the glass of whiskey up to his lips and drank the rest of it, setting the glass down just as the door to the room opened.

"Frances said you needed me," the voice of his sister called out before she walked in from behind the door.

"Yes, come in," Tommy answered, waving his hand to her even though she'd already entered the room, "shut the door," he said then, fishing the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

"What's going on?" Ada decided to get right to the point. She was never one for beating around the bush, especially when her brother was so clearly being affected by something.

"Eloise just returned from a walk. She managed to find the pond," Tommy started, running his hand along the back of his head as he looked to the ground with a huff. His statement may have been vague, but Ada knew exactly what he was getting at.

"Oh, Tommy," she sighed in dismay. She watched her brother then, now seeing the stress and worry that was so clearly etched into his features.

"She told me she met the woman and that she talked to her," he gave more detail, sitting down on the couch with a sigh. "I don't know what I'm going to do to cover this up," he added, bringing the cigarette to his lips to take a long drag.

Ada stood in her spot, her arms crossed as she observed her brother. It didn't take much to notice that he’d already given this problem all of his attention. He may have seemed composed on the outside, but she knew that his mind was working on overdrive. "Maybe it's time you forgot about her," she offered a suggestion a few moments later.

"Forgot about who?" Tommy asked, not even bothering to raise his head from the couch's back.

"(Y/N)," Ada didn't hesitate in saying the woman's name. Hearing it made Tommy's head snap up so that he could look at his sister. He almost looked surprised at the fact that she'd dare say that name. "You have Eloise now. There's no longer a need to visit her anymore."

"She knows too much," he countered.

"Who?" Ada asked for specifics.

"(Y/N). She knows too much. Of me, of this land, of fucking everything. I don't want Eloise speaking to her anymore."

"What're you going to do then, forbid Eloise from leaving the house?" Her question was meant to be a joke, but it was one that made the lightbulb above her brother's head go off. She noticed it in the way Tommy moved, standing from the couch and stalking out of the room, on a new mission. "Fuck," she breathed with a sigh, knowing that his mind that been set and there'd be no changing it.

Ada wondered why Tommy cared so much about this woman; this person who was no longer living and breathing, yet was still chained to this world. He had told her about (Y/N) in depth: about how she lived a very unhappy life, how she'd gotten to the point where she had nothing left, how she went to that very pond and walked into it knowing that she wouldn't be coming back out.

What Ada didn't realize was that Tommy felt like he was connected to (Y/N); like she was the only person who understood everything he'd been through. Tragedy understood tragedy, and both (Y/N) and Tommy's lives had been filled with it.

So would Tommy really insert more control over his loving wife’s life just because she’d stumbled upon a spirit lurking on the grounds of their estate? That question may not be so easily answered.

Despite the events of the day, the party went smoothly. Tommy, while still having to play host alongside Eloise, managed to speak to his wife about the adventure she'd taken earlier. He convinced her that they wouldn't be moving, and even though she didn't quite understand his reasoning, she agreed to never again walk past the gates of Arrow House's garden; thereby relinquishing her ability to leave the immediate property.

Eloise was able to fall asleep the second her head hit the pillow, exhausted from everything that had happened. Tommy was still wide awake late into the evening. He had one more thing he needed to do.

It didn't take him long to find the pond on the property, and it was no surprise that (Y/N) was waiting for him when he reached the water's edge. She waded towards him, a smile gracing her lips as she stopped in front of him. "I knew you'd come back," she said, speaking in that sweet voice that he'd come to find comfort in. But he couldn't let it calm him this time.

"You shouldn't have spoken to her," his words were abrupt, hoping that she'd get the point and they'd move on.

"I just had to let her know," (Y/N) didn't let it go; instead she explained her side. Her smile dropped into a pout as she tipped her head slightly, feigning innocence.

Her look didn’t faze him. "You'll not speak to her again.”

"I'm not sure I'll be able to help it if the option presents itself," her smile returned, and any trace of innocence was gone.

"It won't...she won't be coming down here anymore," Tommy stayed assertive, still not letting her switch faze him.

"So it'll just be you then?" (Y/N)'s eyebrows raised.

"It'll just be me. Forget you ever saw her," he finished off with one more succinct statement before turning to leave her. Even if he wanted to, he knew he couldn't stay out here tonight.

"She knows what'll happen," (Y/N)'s voice stopped him before he could leave. "She knows about the curse. Knows what'll happen if you try..." she trailed off, not even finishing her sentence because he already knew what she meant.

Silence hung in the air as he stared her down, watching for any subtle movements she could make. "Make it so it doesn't,” he said after a few beats, not waiting to turn and walk away from the pond without allowing her to have a chance to respond.

"I'll see you soon, Tommy," she called after him, smiling as she watched him walk away.

He knew that there was no way she could make things change, even if she wanted to. There was something about these grounds...something that was darker than anything he'd ever known. But he'd be lying if he said he wanted to leave them.

Eloise may not like it, but at the end of the day, she didn't have a choice. She'd stay locked inside of Arrow House so that Tommy could ensure that his two worlds wouldn't collide again.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @dlmlufics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @areyenotfondofmelobster @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

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206 notes · View notes

resowrites · 8 days

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Special Brew - oneshot.

Summary: Henry’s interview gets gatecrashed…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Reader/Wife!OC, Interviewer

Warnings: fluff, banter/British humour, fake interview, language, dialogue heavy, nondescript reader/OC body type/appearance, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 2221

A/N: Hi folks I know it’s been a while, work’s nuts these days. This is very rushed and was meant to be longer (I wanted to base it on something I’d written previously) but for the sake of just getting something uploaded I decided to post as is. Sorry I can’t post regularly anymore but I hope you enjoy all the same - R x

Remember, this is pure fiction (as in completely made up), and not in any way meant to reflect reality. My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Gifs/pics not my own. Thanks for visiting!

Special Brew - oneshot.

The following is an excerpt from an article that can be read in full here.

— It's at about the halfway mark in my interview with the 41-year-old Hollywood actor, Henry Cavill, when I notice his attention is caught by something offscreen.

"Where did you get that?" I think I hear 'the fridge, you dickhead,' in reply. He grins. But instead of resuming our discussion about his upcoming role in the rebooted 80's classic, Highlander, he starts gesturing for someone to join him. It fails. So seconds later his partner is pulled onto his lap despite some very loud protestations. He tells her it's her fault for taking his last tin of lager. She tells him she needs it more. What then follows is an almost a four-and-a-half minute squabble - yes I actually timed it - which ends with Henry relinquishing the can on the proviso that if he has to be interviewed, she does as well. I don't take offense but soon wondered if that was premature:

"Who's interviewing you? The Telegraph?"

"No, The Guardian--"

"Wouldn't the Telegraph be more interested?" He gestures in my direction.

"Well, I assume Mark is all the same!"

"And how long have you been keeping this poor bastard?"

"We've not even been chatting half an hour!"

"Oh… have you got a second question for him?" I smile. The 35-year-old financier first met the actor in 2015 and they were rumoured to have married in 2022. Not that either of them, his publicist, or even various social media accounts provide much in the way of confirmation. This seems to stem more from a desire for privacy where possible than anything else. Though it must be said, at first glance they make for an incongruous pair. She catches me peering at her still towel-wrapped hair, Celtic jersey, and joggers combo and wastes no time striking first:

"That's a nice shirt--"

"Don't be cheeky, just 'cos you could have made more of an effort--"

"It's my day off! At least I don't look like an undercover policeman." Is she referring to Henry or myself?

"I don't know, stand up," I laugh but he just rolls his eyes. "Has he apologised for Aryglle yet? To be fair that was actually my fault, I wanted a new kitchen." This lays the ground for what is arguably one of the most chaotic interviews I've experienced in a while.

"Do you see what I mean, Mark? It's not that she wouldn't be media trained, it's that she couldn't." Now she rolls her eyes.

"See, he thinks he's being slick by making me look bad--"

"I'm the one who does that?!"

"So he looks better by comparison--"

"Is that right? And what was wrong with Aryglle?!"

"Nothing! It's the best thing you've ever done. Even if you didn't mean for it to be." She coughs to try and cover a laugh. I ask for her thoughts on his most recent box office offering (Guy Ritchie's spy action comedy, The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare) but for a split second, the title escapes me.

"You mean The Manly Ministry of Something?" Henry tuts and grabs back the can. I dare to question if she has a low opinion of the profession in general. "No, it's more to do with the actors themselves." How so? "Well, considering they're usually the biggest gobshites you'd think it'd be great craic hanging out with them--" he quickly interjects.

"Who are you calling a gobshite?!"

'What do you mean?"

"You know fine well what I mean!" Henry turns back towards me and continues. "Even her own mother took me aside a couple of weeks after we started dating to try and warn me--"

"She never! What did she say?"

"Do you really want to discuss that right now?!" It can't be that bad then, I respond. He shakes his head, despairingly. "Oh no, just that she once walked on stage at a school assembly and instead of graciously accepting an award, pretended to trip so she could drag every single trophy off the display table!"

"… Can you tell he went to a private school?" I almost spit my drink out.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you not realise how tame that sounds?!"

"But that was just the first month you were there!"

"Then I deserved an award--"

"Hang on, she also told me that when you had an after-school detention on your birthday, you climbed out the window of the room you were being supervised in--"

"Normally I'd just get on the bus and go home so that time they gave me a personal escort--"

"And then refused to come down from the roof unless they gave her a birthday cake!" Laughter rings out between our two screens. "In the end, they had to call the fire brigade and she became the reason why their school couldn't properly open their windows any more--"

"I also got a ride home in a fire engine so, hands down one of my best birthdays." Henry sighs. I wonder aloud how this contrasts with his own experiences of school.

"Er, I mean I was a bit of a goody-two-shoes, so I felt a bit intimidated by that sort of thing."

"He still is." He now chokes on his drink. Does this mean they wouldn't have crossed paths as kids?

"Nah, she'd have bullied me then as well." They both laugh. So she hasn't mellowed at all in the intervening years?

"I would say I have, yeah… you do as you get older." Henry's eyebrows hit the ceiling.

"Oh right, so I just hallucinated that night at the Bafta’s then?" She clears her throat and takes a large swig from the can. Is this why she doesn't typically attend red carpets with him?

"Ugh, I'd rather shit in my hands and clap--"

"That and the fact you're a fucking liability!" She shrugs as he explains. "A few years ago, I made the mistake of dragging her along to the after-party--"

"Well, that explains why I didn't fucking remember. Why did I have to come? You didn't win anything you were just presenting--"

"Oh fuck off! I even promised to take her on holiday for a couple of weeks if she at least tried to behave herself--"

"'Cos that's a good incentive--"

"And Jesus Christ, never again. If I wasn't blackballed in this industry before, I was that fucking night--"

"No, it's 'cos you won't take acting lessons." Henry smirks and tries to cover her mouth this time.

"At least I didn't go up to a circle containing Judi Dench, Helen Mirren--"

"Look at him dropping names! And it's Dame Judi…"

"And last but not least, the Meryl Streep--"

"You know, of Mama Mia…" A laugh escapes me before I can stop it.

“Only to ask them where their cauldron was!"

"But that's the great thing about being a nobody, you can say whatever want--"

"You're not a nobody--"

"No, I'm your plus one…" They howl with laughter. "The best thing is to underdress slightly as well so they think you're staff, the reactions are even better." And what was the response? "None of them heard me." He snorts.

"Judi just burst out laughing--"

"Judi! Like they're friends! Yeah, well she saw us arrive together so I think she was onto me."

"Luckily she's got a robust sense of humour…"

"Not like that other one. Oh, what's his name? You know… the one that says he'd rather be making shoes?" Sir Daniel Day-Lewis?

"Yeah, she asked him if he wanted her to go look for his top hat." I can feel my own jaw drop.

"That's how he reacted! Oh God, I'd give my left tit to relive it…" I ask where Henry is when these interactions go down. "Usually trying to find the nearest exit--"

"Is it any wonder!"

"But we were only there twenty minutes--"

"And he wasn't even the first Daniel you managed to piss off!" And who was that?

"Dan Snow." The broadcaster? Henry glances heavenward, exasperated.

"No, Jon Snow - and she means Kit Harrington. She got talking to him and somehow things managed to go south even quicker than usual." I can see how referring to him instead as the 50-year-old historian might have that effect. "No, it wasn't that, it was when he asked whether she was enjoying Game of Thrones--"

"Which is presumptuous isn't it?" For once even I'm at a loss for words.

"And so she asked him if that's the show with dragons and when he said 'yes,'" he starts cracking up, "she went 'then, no.'" I don't think I've ever seen a man look so crestfallen - not even when you accosted Sam." Mr. Rockwell? I'm assuming that took place while Henry was still on the Argylle press tour?

"Oh yeah that was a gas, I waited until we were a bit better acquainted--"

"So the poor sod had his guard down--"

"And on the last day, I asked if he'd sign a picture for me. I think he assumed it was for a friend or something so he wasn't expecting me to thank him for gifting Henry his picture to put above the toilet--"

"What's worse is that it was that still from The Green Mile, you know? Literally, the first one that pops up on Google!" This anecdote puts me in mind of a similar story I heard on the grapevine during the first season of Netflix's The Witcher. Against my better judgment, I ask him if knows what I'm talking about and immediately his eyes flash in recognition.

"Yeah, and it pains me to say that's also true."

"What is?"

"Your stunt at the Witcher premiere…" For a moment she looks genuinely confused. "Don't pretend you can't remember!"

"Remember what? I wasn't even there!"

"And even that didn't spare me!"

"Oh I can't fucking win Mark, all I did was try and bring a smile to his face 'cos I knew he was sad about me having to work that night--"

"So naturally you had an 8x10 still printed of me with Orlando Bloom's head (as Legolas), photoshopped on top? Which, by the way, you could have just messaged me. But what did you do instead? You made dozens of copies and had my bodyguard hand them out to fans for me to sign." She waits for a beat.

"But how long did it take for you to notice?" Gentle reader, when I tell you this is one of only a handful of occasions I've ever laughed so hard in an interview, it's because I want you to know how rare that's actually been over a 35-year career in entertainment journalism. Still, I imagine that if she was brazen enough to taunt some of Hollywood's most influential stars, far worse shots have since been fired.

"Oh yeah, why don't you tell Mark how you recently mouthed off to Aaron Taylor Johnson?" Even she begins to look sheepish.

"Yeah, but I was only trying to make conversation." Henry's head falls into his hand. She snickers. What on earth happened? "Honestly, nothing. I just said I hoped he really was being considered for Bond ‘cos he looks great in a suit." I hardly know how to respond. "Now that I think about it, he probably just thought I got you two mixed up--"

"Stop it right now!"

"What? You bought me in on this interview!" This of course is true and seems to serve a more serious purpose the longer our conversation continues. That he adores her is plain - his eyes never leave her. But it's the fact she can keep making him laugh, even under the scrutiny of being interviewed, that seems to make all the difference. Is that the key to the success of their relationship? "Well, that and the fact he's gone for six months out of any twelve--"

"So all the messages saying you miss me is just lip service?"

"Oh alright, it's cos he's got a huge… heart. Almost as big as his bank balance." Henry's legs are suddenly thrown in the air. At first, it seems he lost his balance, but judging from how quickly he then chases her from the room, I assume it was she who pulled the lever on his office chair that sent him hurtling to the floor.

A couple of days later, I received a brief email from her which apologised for them both having 'christened more than a couple of ships' that day and explained how she was grateful that even though she 'had a lot of baggage' before they met, Henry refused to give up on her. She signed off with the following; 'His biggest problem is his limited self-belief. But seriously, he's admired because, in a professional and personal life full of arseholes, he's still, as Virginia Woolf said of her husband right before she died by suicide, 'entirely patient and incredibly good'. I'll never be drunk enough to say that to his face so I've cc'd him in.' I double-checked and saw that she had indeed emailed him as well. It's an oddly moving, albeit characteristically funny postscript and one that underlines her devotion to him no matter what. We should all be so lucky.

The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare is on Amazon Prime Video.

To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.

@fanfictionaddiction99 @luclittlepond @caffeinatedfestivalsheep @summersong69 @ushijimbo @livesinfantasyland @jackjanira @thearcana-moonlight

#henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x reader

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farfromstrange · 6 months

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Do No Harm: A Matt Murdock x Reader Series

PREVIEW

Masterlist | Series Masterlist (coming soon)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Doctor!Reader

Set during: Daredevil Season 1

Summary: Two years ago, you fled across the country, leaving your past far behind you. Dedicated to helping those in need, you only barely escaped the shadows that haunted you. But you managed; you changed your name, acquired an entirely new identity and a New York medical license – all for a chance at a new life. You somehow managed to get a job at Metro General in Hell’s Kitchen, rented a new apartment and made new friends. The person you claimed to be did, anyway. Everything was going well. Too well. Until one day, you run into Matt Murdock. In an instant, the safe haven you built for yourself starts to unravel, and you find yourself forced to face the very life you tried your hardest to escape.

Warnings: Angst, domestic violence, implied/referenced child abuse, substance abuse, canon typical violence, injury, mental illness, strong language, eventual smut, Black Suit, medical jargon (but I’m not a doctor), Reader has a fake name that is used for a big portion of this story ("Olivia Carter"), no y/n

A/n: I've been watching a lot of medical dramas lately to cope with the drama of life. This is how this idea came to life. I couldn't help myself. As mentioned in the warnings, Reader has a fake name due to her history, but it still a reader insert. I use "you" and she/her pronouns when referring to the Reader. So you can either see her as an OC or as yourself. I hope you guys enjoy this little gem! See more information below.

18+ for EXPLICIT CONTENT. MINORS DNI!

More under the cut.

ONE: Night Shift (coming December 1st)

Excerpt from Chapter 1

[…] Matt doesn’t want to be a liability, he doesn’t want to be the reason the people he loves get hurt, and yet it continues to happen time and time again.

Maybe he’s cursed. It’s the only explanation for how things are going for him now. Maybe God has a grudge and finally decided to exercise his right to make his life a living hell. There is an infinite number of possibilities, but none of them make sense.

He’s the anti-hero of his own story and that of everyone else who ever dared to let him into their lives. He’s his own worst enemy, his personal saboteur. His unwavering pride has a tendency to get in the way of his happiness, which often leads to more bad than good, but admitting that would leave him vulnerable and exposed—he can’t get hurt again.

It’s better to push the people he loves away before he can hurt them and force them to walk out on him the same way everyone else in his life has ever since he can remember. At least in his twisted mind, that’s true. […]

-> Story Aesthetic

If you want to be added to the tag list, please let me know! I do separate ones for all of my series because not everyone who filled out the tag list form wants to read an entire series. So, this will be tagged separately and only those who want me to.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x ofc #female reader #reader insert #medical drama #no y/n #series #do no harm #charlie cox #matt murdock imagines #lizzi writes #preview

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mothmanssweetsucculentass · 1 month

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Ok here’s my two cents that no one asked for on the current (sort of?) debate going on in the Creepypasta fandom on here rn.

For starters, I grew up with Creepypasta. I also grew up mentally ill. I am also autistic. So I know my way around good and bad mental health rep at this point. And to be honest? A lot of the original stories DID suck balls at representation or just horror writing in general.

However, nowadays I see other people on here, often mentally ill or any other social outcast, taking these characters and reshaping them as their own to fit their own feelings and experiences, and I don’t think anyone has the authority to criticize things like that. Cringe culture is supposed to be dead anyways, nevermind the fact it’s inherently ableist at its core.

We also need to take into account kids still exist in the fandom. Pre teens who got tired of shit like scooby doo and wanted something more “mature” or “edgy” to get into without fully going off the deep end into full blown horror movies. At least that’s how it was for me. Not everyone, especially someone who’s younger, is gonna be comfortable with the grit and gore a lot of Creepypasta “purists” are pushing for these days, and that’s okay! When a fandom gets popular it’s always inevitable and unavoidable to have the popular characters get two dimensionalized.

There’s also the whole mascot horror thing that I don’t wanna get into, but I’m 90% sure that also plays a part in the old favorites like Jeff and slenderman being brought up again. They were and still are recognizable characters. Recognizable characters aren’t a bad thing. Making horror more approachable for younger audiences isn’t a bad thing. People having their own interpretations based out of their own experiences isn’t a bad thing.

Some of us grew up and wanted the more edgy and reality based content, and that’s also not a bad thing! But neither side should be dictating or policing how the other enjoys content in this fandom. If you personally don’t like the way something is written, characterized, depicted, or drawn, no one’s forcing you to look at it. No one’s claiming it as canon. No one’s asking for you to accept it as the end all be all.

At the end of the day this fandom was built on OCs and personal depictions of stuff. I can’t name a single character or story in this community that was created by some outside party like a movie or TV studio FIRST (because I know some got so popular they breached the fandom and got their own shows/movies/comics/etc). Everything here was created by someone who wanted an outlet for their creativity, or their pain, or their coping, or whatever else.

Realism and dark headcanons aren’t bad, and neither are any of the headcanons out there who just wanna make a goofy found family of social rejects as a form of escapism.

A 13 year old drawing a fictional layout of a fictional mansion where these fictional characters live isn’t going to suddenly invalidate the horror, I promise, it’s not that deep and it never was.

A 22 year old making a dark comic on the realistic origins of Jeff who is a fictional character in a fictional world isn’t going to suddenly invalidate the more softhearted side of the fandom.

Sure, there can still be a split if people are so adamant about that, but as someone who personally enjoys both the brutal horror side and the “haha Jeff is 15 and gay” sides equally, y’all need to at least learn to be civil to anyone who has a different headcanon than you. And if that seems like too much still, the block button exists for a reason.

TL:DR this fandom is based entirely off OCs and headcanons and people can do whatever the fuck they want because none of it is real and horror comes in many shapes and sizes and intensities and no one should be bashing anyone on their headcanons or views or rewrites or whatever else.

EDIT:

Actually wait I think I have more to say-

Horror, like any genre, has NO AGE LIMIT. And by that I mean, if someone younger wants to delve into scary stuff, they should be allowed to do so without criticism. I personally grew up on “child friendly” horror media like Scooby-Doo, and the older I got the more horror I wanted to experience.

There’s no right or wrong way to “understand” horror, and I frankly think it’s ignorant and stupid to say if you don’t fully “understand” something, then you shouldn’t be involved in it at all. Horror isn’t always about gore and unspeakable violence and the eldritch entity that wants everyone’s skin inside out. That’s why horror has sub genres for fucks sake. Gut wrenching brutality against innocent people isn’t everyone’s cup of tea and that’s okay!

However, bashing anyone’s tamer headcanons, or calling anything anyone interprets differently than you “stupid”, that’s not okay. God, I feel like an exhausted parent giving this lecture to fellow adults, but this really needs to be said and stressed.

I am an adult. I like when stuff in the fandom takes a dark turn. But for nostalgia’s sake, I also love the fanon so much, because that’s what I was exposed to.

And for fucks sake if it comes down to picking sides, I would rather stick with the part of this fandom that gives zero shits how you see a character as long as you’re having fun.

You can have your serial killer 30 year old Jeff and your canon-accurate-to-that-one-image eyeless Jack, but don’t shit on other people if they don’t want the same thing. Your interpretation isn’t canon, and neither is anyone else’s for that matter.

Realistic, dark, gritty Creepypasta isn’t a new concept, and neither is “adult” Creepypasta. And by the way, Creepypasta was never stated to be for adults. That’s like saying kids and only kids can eat trix cereal. It sounds that stupid on paper.

Let people interpret things the way they wanna interpret. No one is infringing on YOUR character ideas. Creepypasta has no age limit, nor a set way the horror has to be presented. Those who do continue to claim that just sound like pretentious assholes.

Very small side note, I personally think it’s inappropriate and rude to keep using Toby as a “bad example” of mental health rep when the creator has stated multiple times the character is old, not researched, and not even in the fandom anymore. Leave the poor guy alone.

#creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #jeff the killer #rant #I’m not a professional in anything don’t @ me #I’ve just been here for years #so I at the very least partially know what I’m talking about #I personally think this purist mindset and behavior is bs if you go and attack other creators #just be nice to people Ohmygod #update #eyeless Jack #slenderman

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seireiteihellbutterfly · 1 month

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Second Chance Sorcerer Chapter 2 - A Message

Summary: After surviving Mahito's Idle Transfiguration in the Shibuya Incident, Nanami finds himself in an unknown realm between life and death. Will he escape?

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Fem! reader

A/N: Chapter 2 is here! So we come to the world of the living where reader is grieving Nanami's death. Reader-centric chapter, but Nanami is brought up heavily. Originally made with my OC, to read that version, check out my AO3 account, but it's in Y/n format here.

Banner by the lovely @actuallysaiyan

Search/follow along using #secondchancesorcerer

Chapter 1 | Nanami masterlist

There’s an incessant knocking at the door and it takes all of your energy to not scream at whoever it is to go away. You felt like someone had hit you with a sledgehammer, your sleep disturbed and restless. Why was everyone so determined to give you company when all you wanted to do was be left alone?

No one understood the hollow feeling in your chest, how you woke up every night screaming, remembering Mahito’s disgusting grin of triumph as he had murdered Nanami in cold blood. How you had begged Nanami to let you take him out of Shibuya station along with Maki, the burns on his body looking so raw and painful. He had fixed you with the same look he would give you when you was hesitating to take a shot at him during hand-to-hand combat training sessions. That stern expression of disapproval, despite his own pain and exhaustion.

“Take Maki-san and leave. I’ll be fine Y/n-san. I can’t leave. Not yet.” And you had been helpless to argue against him. you never could. There was a hypnotic quality to the way Nanami instructed you, said with a finality that you could never disobey. The man had a death wish, you knew that, and you had foolishly believed securing him with a protective charm would drive away the shadow of demise that seemed to hover over him all the time. You should have knocked him unconscious and dragged his ass out with Maki. Shoko was on site. She could have healed him, and he would be here, grieving their other losses instead of…

Your heart constricted painfully, remembering how you had held onto Yuji as hard as you could, your ears bleeding from his hysterical screaming as he swore his revenge on Mahito. Nanami’s loss hung heavily in the air. Although most of the Jujutsu community was more invested in Gojo being sealed, it was Nanami’s death that affected you the most. Nanami your mentor, your dour, unwilling mission partner, your whole heart…now gone. Like he had never existed, no trace of him left.

“Y/n-san?” The knocking continues and with a snarl, you roll off the bed, your hair a dreadful mess, not caring that you’re still in pajamas, and yank open the door only to see Ino and Yuji standing there, Yuji carrying a takeout container. Your ire washes away only to be replaced by a dull ache as you see them. “Oh. it’s you two.” You slink back to the bed and disappear under the covers.

“We haven’t seen you for two days now Y/n-san.” Ino shuts the door as Yuji sets the takeout container on the table. “You can’t just lock yourself away. We’re a team. Team Nanami, remember?” Ino gives you a wan smile which you don’t have the energy to return. Yuji settles down on a chair and says nothing.

Your heart aches for the boy, so young, a teenager, looking so weary and serious, shouldering the weight of a much older man. “I haven’t been in a mood to see anyone. Everything that happened at Shibuya…I can’t.”

Your voice trembles, threatening to spill out all the unspent grief you’re carrying. You hadn't explicitly told anyone about your feelings for Nanami, believing it was pointless. You were his apprentice after all, a title almost similar to being his student, and it was a boundary you hadn’t been willing to cross. Nanami had helped craft your abilities after all, abilities you had been terrified of using, abilities that had plagued your entire life, that you wished you hadn’t been born with; until he had shown you how to use them for a higher purpose.

It was an astonishing experience, developing a cursed technique, needing much hands-on instruction. Literally. Nanami would constantly adjust your hands, your stance, and your combat positions, tutting at you impatiently. You had felt like you were in a ballet academy under the care of a rigorous instructor, the type that would raise their student’s arms and chin and adjust their posture using the end of a cane.

He had started you off the same way that Gojo had done for Yuji, by channeling cursed energy into one of Principal Yaga’s creepy cursed dolls. The doll had given you a black eye that day, but you secretly blamed Nanami for that; you had been watching movies as instructed, the doll in your lap when he had come down to check on you. His deep gravelly voice cutting through the room unexpectedly had caused you to yelp, grip loosening on the doll, which had wasted no time in delivering a blow to your eye.

It was humiliating, feeling like you had failed him on this simple task but he made you nervous. He always gave off an aura of needing perfection and his short, clipped way of giving instruction made you feel inadequate. Everything had been a blur of confusion as you leaned against the sofa, covering your eye and moaning in pain, hearing rapid shuffling footsteps, before Nanami had caught hold of the doll and shoved it into a containment box.

“Let me see.” With your good eye, you saw him leaning over you to check your face. You knew you were blushing but hoped it came off as embarrassment for being punched by the doll rather than the fact that your mentor - your unbelievably attractive mentor- was peering into your face at such close proximity.

You had slowly removed your hand, the area around the eye swollen and tender. Nanami’s expression was strange, almost like he was trying not to laugh as he delicately laid his fingers at the edges of the starting bruise. “I did warn you not to lose concentration,” he said in an even tone, although it betrayed a wisp of amusement. “Go see Ieiri-San. I’m afraid you’ll be sporting a bruise for a while, but her reverse curse technique will take away the pain so at least you won’t feel it.”

Your good eye had glared at him reproachfully. “I was doing fine until you startled me. I didn’t even hear you come in. We should put a bell around your neck.”

You thought you saw the corners of his mouth twitch slightly, almost like he was biting back the urge to smile. “Are you under the impression that curses wear bells around their necks, Y/n-San? Because if this is all it takes to startle you…you wouldn’t last a minute on a solo mission.”

His words had brought you back to the reality of the situation, the fuzzy feeling of being near him vanishing in an instant. Always teaching survival tactics, always telling you to run, always putting himself in the line of fire. It had driven you insane, how little self-preservation he had for himself.

“Isn’t there anything that you would like to live for?” you had asked him one morning as you ate breakfast together before catching the train home, having finished a mission the previous night. He fixed you with a scrutinizing stare, whiskey-colored eyes narrowing as though puzzled by your question.

“Like what?”

His response left you stumped. Did the man have no aspirations, no dreams, or wishes he wanted to be fulfilled?

“Like what?” You had parroted back to him, an incredulous look on your face. “There are so many wonderful things about life! Don’t you have a survival bucket list?”

His lip was definitely curling now. Nanami never smiled completely, but the corners of his eyes would crinkle when something amused him, and you could see the lines deepening as he regarded your question, but his tone felt like an adult indulging a child. It was maddeningly patronizing, considering he was just three years older than you, yet he assumed himself to be too mature and aged for such whimsical questions.

“A survival bucket list?” he practically scoffed.

“Yes,” you said trying not to lose your patience with him, crossing your arms over your chest. “You know, a list of things you’d like to do if you ever had the time.”

“Do you have one?”

“Of course I have one! Most of us have one! Something to keep us going when all we see is death and destruction on a daily basis.”

The thought seemed to intrigue him but you couldn’t shake off the feeling like you were being snubbed. Which was why you were taken aback when he asked, “What’s on your survival bucket list?”

“Oh ah…” you tried to gather your thoughts as you spoke, not expecting that he would ask you. “Take a tour of Europe. Go on an African safari. Take scuba diving lessons. Try different pastries and sweets from all over the world.” You lists some of your top activities, then frown as Nanami in a rare moment, flashes you a grin, his teeth showing for a brief second before his face returns to its usual stoic state.

“What?” You had asked almost impatiently. “Is my bucket list funny in some way?”

The blond man shakes his head no before speaking. “It’s not funny at all Y/n-san. I think it’s nice that you have these personal goals.” He says calmly, his voice carrying an unfamiliar lilt you had never heard before.

Your irritation died down when you realized he hadn’t answered you yet. “Do you have one or not?”

He looked thoughtfully at you before replying. “I used to. But it’s not as great as wanting to learn how to scuba dive or trying all the sweets in the world.” His tone changed into something wistful and nostalgic and it played with your heartstrings as you waited for him to continue. “My survival bucket list, if I can call it that, has only one goal. And that is to live long enough to retire.”

Your breath had caught and you waited for him to say more, hoping he wouldn’t shut off. Nanami rarely ever spoke more than what was necessary, but you longed to see more of this side of him, the parts of him that had nothing to do with sorcery.

“Retirement isn’t something a lot of sorcerers get to experience. Most of them die young, and the ones that do survive have so many disabilities that doing anything later in life becomes impossible. If life is favorable to me, and I have all my limbs and mental health by that age, I would love to retire and spend the rest of my days in peace.”

“What does peace look like to you?” you had asked him in a hushed voice, feeling ecstatic about finding out these little details about him.

“A beach, in a country with a low cost of living. Perhaps I’ll live right on the sand, a book in hand, and just take in all the sunshine.” His eyes had taken on a faraway quality, the whiskey color becoming more honeyed, little flecks of gold visible in his irises as though whatever he was thinking of had lit a candle inside him, illuminating his whole being. You could only stare, unable to comprehend how beautiful, how vulnerably human, he looked in that fleeting moment before it vanished behind an impenetrable curtain of indifference. “But that future is a very slim possibility. I don’t like building castles of air.”

The warmth that had settled in your chest dissipated, and you were left with the man you had grown used to; contained, jaded, pessimistic.

“But what if it does happen?” you couldn’t stop yourself from asking.

He let out a sound that could have been interpreted as a disbelieving chuckle. “Then I’d better think about using something more solid than air to build my castle.”

“Y/n-san?”

You’re jolted back to reality as Yuji hands you a tissue. You hadn’t even been aware that you were crying, tears rolling down your cheeks, eyes puffy and red.

“I’m sorry guys.” You dabbed at the tears. “Got lost in thought.”

“We all miss him, Y/n-san,” Yuji says comfortingly, but his voice trembles. “He was more than a teacher to all of us.”

“And we’re still a team despite him being gone,” Ino says assertively and presses the takeout container into your hands. “Eat. You need to.”

you open it to reveal a breakfast sandwich, and although you don’t have much of an appetite, the thoughtfulness of the boys is so sweet that you don’t feel like setting it aside for later. Taking a bite, you try to distract yourself from your own feelings.

“So they weren’t able to recover Gojo from the prison realm?” you ask, trying to get off the topic of their deceased mentor.

Ino shakes his head no, and you are relieved to see that most of his wounds from his fight with Ogami have healed, almost imperceptible to the eyes of a non-sorcerer, although there was a scar running down the left side of his face now.

“They’re doing a recovery throughout Shibuya station, but it’s mostly to pull items belonging to the people who died. You know, to return to their families.” Ino sighs and rests against the wall of your room. “They haven’t found Nanami-san’s blade yet.”

This bit of information is unexpected, and you look at him, then at Yuji who is also listening intently.

“I mean…it probably got lost underneath all the rubble, right? It’ll turn up eventually.” You swallow, hoping the weapon wasn’t lost to the destruction of Shibuya Station.

“I hope so. I’d imagine Nanami-san would want me to have it.” Ino sits down on the edge of your bed. Yuji however, gives him a look of disapproval.

“Why do you get Nanamin’s weapon? I was his student too.”

“Yeah, but I trained under him the longest. By that right, it should come to me.”

“What if he has family? Wouldn’t it go them?” Yuji countered, trying to think of a reasonable argument for why Ino couldn’t simply lay claim to the blade.

“He didn’t have any family,” you say quietly, not really invested in the conversation. Ino and Yuji continued to debate, their conversation becoming indistinct buzzing to you as you finished your sandwich.

“He was your teacher too Y/n-san,” Ino interjects suddenly, with a touch of surprise. “Why aren’t you more interested in who his blade goes to?”

“Because I knew how much he hated using it.”

Your words carry an intensity that makes them both quiet down instantly. As powerful and wonderful as his blade was, you knew your mentor’s distaste for using it. To him, it was a means to an end, no different than using a rifle or an axe. He used it for the sake of exorcising curses, but the blade itself carried no personal meaning to him.

“Nanamin hated his blade?” Yuji asks in a small voice. The disappointment in his eyes had you quickly backpedaling.

“Not the blade itself. I think more so, what it represented for him. A life as a sorcerer. Of facing death every day, knowing this was his duty and he couldn’t escape it.”

Silence follows your words and you wish you hadn’t spoken. You hadn’t meant to put a damper on the boys’ spirits but you couldn't keep quiet either. They were young, in awe of their late teacher who must’ve seemed like a much older man, dispensing wisdom. But knowing how small your age gap was, and how much he hated this line of work, you found yourself compelled to make sure they knew what you knew; that Nanami Kento was a hard-working man, but he never found any joy in using his now legendary weapon at all.

And unknown to them, You had already scavenged Shibuya Station after the emergency evacuation orders were put through. You hadn’t expected to find much, but somehow, through a stroke of luck, had found his tie, the obnoxiously yellow, polka-dotted tie, peeking through the broken cement and glass, stained with blood. His blood.

You had yanked it out quickly and stuffed it into your pocket, a little secret you had been carrying around the last few days. It now lay under your pillow; you worried people would judge you for keeping it, for not washing it but somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. At night, you’d run the tie through your fingers, feeling the material slip smoothly through, the faint scent of his cologne still on it. You knew you would never be able to wash it until the last vestiges of that scent faded away. It was the only thing that brought you comfort, that and remembering the day you found out the history of the odd color and print of the tie.

The 4 four of you had been out at the amusement park, Ino and Yuji energetically running around from one ride to the next while you and Nanami had waited in line to grab food for everyone. As you sat waiting for the boys to come back, you had gathered courage and asked him a question that had been in the back of your mind since you became his apprentice.

“Nanami-san?”

“Hmm?” He had turned his focus towards you and you hoped he wouldn’t see the rising color in your cheeks.

“Why do you wear that tie? It just doesn’t match the rest of your outfit.” You held you breath hoping the question wasn’t too personal. But the tie somehow paradoxically brought his outfit together and also threw it out of style.

His expression had changed almost imperceptibly. If you hadn’t spent as much time as you did with him, you might not have noticed it. He rested his elbows on the picnic table, as though conflicted to admit what was going through his mind. Then with a sigh, he said, “It’s to remember an old friend.”

“An old friend?”

“A late friend, to be precise.”

Your heart tightened in your chest. A late friend? He had lost someone close to him?

“It’s a funny story.” Nanami paused as though considering if he should tell you more, then continued. “My favorite show growing up as a child was The Flintstones.”

You stared at him, but you couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped you which you suppressed immediately. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to say something like that.”

“Well, it was.” Nanami’s lips had twitched. “And my friend knew this. As a joke, he got me a tie that matched Fred Flintstone’s outfit.” Another pause, another sigh, as though the next part was difficult for him to say. “I never wore it until after his death. Now I always do, in remembrance.”

“I’m so sorry,” you had said in a low voice. “I didn’t mean to bring up such a sad memory for you.”

Nanami shook his head and looked away towards the Ferris wheel, where the boys had disappeared off to. “It was a while ago. I try not to dwell on it for too long.”

“Thank you for telling me,” you’d murmured. His face had softened as he looked at you, the rest of the world blurring from your vision until all that remained in focus was him, the sharp eyes, the high cheekbones, the straight nose, and the chiseled jawline. Barely 30, yet looking like even a few years of sleep wouldn’t wash away the exhaustion that emanated from his bones.

“Even if Nanami-san disliked his weapon, it’s still useful to have.” Ino and Yuji were back to debating about the blade.

You were about to reiterate that you wouldn’t fight them over the blade when suddenly a pale sea foam green light began to glow from underneath your pillow. Both the boys stop bickering, awestruck at the sight. With a trembling hand, you move the pillow, revealing the tie, and making Ino and Yuji draw closer in curiosity. The polka dots on the blood-stained tie were glowing, emanating a warm aura accompanied by a curious scent of lingering coffee.

“What…” You watch with fascination, then look up at Yuji and Ino, who are watching the scene unfold, wide-eyed and filled with wonderment.

“Is that Nanamin’s tie?” Yuji gets closer to the bed, unable to take his eyes away.

“Yeah…I’ve been holding onto it.”

“Is it cursed? Did Nanami-san leave some residual cursed energy when he…?” Ino eyes the tie warily but also speaks in a hushed tone of disbelief.

You shake your head, the aura not feeling sinister to you. Rather, it felt familiar, like you had experienced it before, in those brief moments when Nanami’s eyes would crinkle from amusement…

You gasp and scramble off the bed as the dots begin to lift off the tie, a vignette of sea foam green surrounding each one. They float ethereally in the air, then, one by one start floating out of your room.

“Wait!” Not caring that you’re in pajamas or that you’d been in bed for nearly two days, you chase after the dots, bolting out of the room barefoot, Ino and Yuji hot on your heels. People stared at you as you ran. You knew the group must look quite eccentric, the two boys fully clothed and decent looking, while you looked ratty and deranged, hair flying everywhere as you tracked the dots barefoot, not wanting to lose sight of them.

Finally, the dots make their way into the large courtyard where Nanami would brief you about upcoming missions. They slow down and the trio halts, panting and out of breath. The light surrounding the polka dots brightens before they start arranging themselves into a fixed pattern, you, Ino, and Yuji watching perplexedly.

“Fred Flintstone”

“What?” Yuji looks bewildered. “Who’s that?”

“Isn’t that a cartoon character?” Ino asks, his generation just shy of the classic cartoons millennials had grown up on.

You cover your mouth, trying not to jump to conclusions. “The Flintstones…”

Could it be? Was he…? You let out a strangled laugh of disbelief but yet, what else could it be?

“It’s Nanami-san!” you whisper, and as you do, the energy signature from the polka dots seems to envelop you, and you feel every small little detail you have ever memorized about him; the little marks that formed on the bridge of his nose when he took his glasses off after a mission, how he enjoyed a fresh pot of coffee in the morning, that little sigh of satisfaction he’d make after completing his daily crossword puzzle.

Yuji and Ino look at you incredulously, but you have never been more sure of anything in your life. You look at them in the face, tears in your eyes, not from grief, but at how achingly comforting it was to be bathed in the glow of those polka dots.

“Nanami-san is alive!”

Animated lines and support banner by @cafekitsune

@that-goth-bisexual @buttercupbitches @jadedjane @hunnie-lily

@starsinmylatte @soft--cherry @estarlias @that-goth-bisexual

@daswanj @connorsui @kentosgirlie @dreaming-about-seireitei @byul9158

@darkstarlight82 @whatshernameis @beneathstarryskies

@Mangiswig @bleachbrainrotbro @illusionaryennui @harlekin6

@pernesophe

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twstfanblog · 8 months

Text

*~Period Drama~* Sunday

A/N: SCREAMS. Ok, sorry. It's been a hard time getting this out and for no reason. I literally had it like 80% done this whole time and the last 20% got lost in the damn mail I guess. But now it's done and out for the masses to enjoy! A thank you to @bun-lapin for allowing me to use their lovely OC for this fic! Word Count: 7.5K (God Damn...) Warnings: Period Talk (Like most of this is just various period facts and it lowkey gets pretty horrifying near the end), She/They Pronouns OC Pairings: AzulxOC (Poly), JamilxOC (Poly), Paternal Crewel &OC, Alluded to Riddle/Floyd Now with a tag-list! @twistedcece, @deltrea, @krenenbaker Start, Part 2 (Octavinelle), Part 3 (Here). Part 4 (Savanaclaw), Part 4.5 (Diasomnia pt.1), Part 5 (Diasomnia pt.2)

"Sorry again for bleeding on your pants."

Yuu stood in their dorm’s entrance hallway, Azul at the door with his ruined slacks in hand and wearing a pair of sweats borrowed from Yuu.

Azul had spent the night after Crewel’s brief lecture. The fur-wearing teacher had given Yuu another pain relief potion before leaving, stating he was going to get something longer-lasting for them by tomorrow. Azul had elected to stay, acting as emotional support and bringing Yuu whatever they needed from elsewhere in the house.

"No issue, my pearl. The twins have ruined more than one outfit for me, a little blood isn't the end of the world." He mutters under his breath, looking at the sweatpants with a pinched expression. But he turns to smile at them, “I’m only sorry that I can’t stay with you longer. But, I’ve already missed one productive day at the lounge, and I fear what will happen if I miss another. Let alone leave Jade and Floyd to their own devices any longer…”

"So what do I owe you for the emotional turmoil then?" Yuu smiles lazily, eyes lidded as they watch Azul place a hand over his chest.

"Why I could never ask for anything in return. You're in such a delicate position, it'd be cruel to give you a payment plan now for all the distress you've caused me this past week…"

So, she was going to be ambushed with a 'payment plan' once her period was over.

Smirking, they tilt their head, a finger poking into their cheek, "So, can I start making those payments before the interest gets too high?"

Azul sighs, pouting and shaking his head with his eyes closed, "Honestly. I try to be benevolent and you throw it back in my face. Such cruelty…" he opens an eye, a smile almost leaning into a smirk, "But payment in kisses is always accepted with you."

"Suave" Yuu leans closer, peppering kisses against Azul’s reddening cheeks before going for the kill on his lips. The two sets molded together, Yuu holding him by his jaw as her tongue slid into his mouth, tasting his moans as his hands shakingly reached toward her hips. Pulling away, they giggle at seeing Azul catch his balance on the wall, "Have fun at the lounge. Call me when you can squeeze in a break."

Still dizzy from the kiss, Azul nodded, free hand fumbling for the doorknob behind him, "W-will do. Please don't overdo it when no one is here. Love you." He barely escaped, losing his composer and stumbling away just as he closed the door behind him. Yuu was always physically affectionate, but she was downright merciless if he ever blushed in front of her.

Yuu sighs, deciding to finally check their phone in bed…maybe they’ll just grab more towels from the hallway closet. Laying on the couch closer to the kitchen would be the smarter idea. They huff, pulling out more towels and piling them in their arms. They really needed to find something to act comfortably enough like a pad or tampon, free bleeding was too messy in the long run.

Once the couch was prepped with towels, they laid down to rest under their cozy throw blanket until Crewel appeared to check on them. They clicked their phone on and almost choked at the number of notifications. At least 300 texts, 47 missed calls, and various social media @'s in an effort to reach them. They had to fight back the tears, emotions swelling at the idea of just how cared for they were in this world. Once their nerves were settled, they went to ground zero.

Their group chat with the 'Firstie Squad' was where most of the texts were. Ace first stated that someone had assaulted them. From there chaos descended. Jack demanded to know if Ace was joking, because if so it wasn't funny in the slightest. Epel chimed in that there was no way anyone overpowered them and got away alive. Ace snapped at both of them what he saw, pointing out how odd they'd been behaving the week prior. Sebek finally chimed in, only typing to ask whether Ace was sure.

Once Ace rementioned the bloody vagina mess the whole chat might as well as caught on fire. Jack seemed to disappear, Epel followed quickly after dropping several swears and threats into the chat about the would-be aggressor. Sebek stuck around the longest, talking with Ace to get information and make a game plan. Ortho sent a single link on helping a loved one who had been assaulted. But, knowing the living droid, he had probably combed every camera at his disposal to try and catch whoever did such a crime.

Nearly an hour later Deuce had finally entered the chat, full caps stating that they were okay and then yelling at Ace. He scolded him for blabbing when Crewel just told them to keep quiet. From there new, familiar chaos took over, a normal back and forth whenever Ace and Deuce started fighting over text.

The other stray texts were from the housewardens, mainly asking why their respective firsties were acting so odd. A few more texts asking if they were okay, noting how angry they've been the past few days. Surprisingly, only two texts were from Jamil. One was a photo of a teary-eyed Grim being held like a baby by Kalim in the background, crumbs on his over-stuffed cheeks and Kalim flashing a peace sign. Mildly blurry in the corner of the photo was the side of Jamil’s face, a half-in-frame peace sign hiding his mouth. The simple message attached, ‘Grim is fed and being held. Love you’

Yuu smiles, sending him a quick message before replying to the other texts, making sure to send Ace several middle finger and a single heart emoji. She groans, seeing a few texts from Vil. But looking closer, she sees most of the missed calls were from Vil, maybe she should call him…

Listening through a few of the voicemails, Yuu notes how calm Vil sounded in the first recording. The blonde only asked how their day was and if they were still on for their movie night. The next few voicemails slowly increased in panic, the last one being a chaotic audio of Epel wailing in the background. Rook trying to either comfort or hold the country boy back while Vil yelled into the phone, “You better be dead when I find you, or so help me you’re going to be for making me worry like this!”

Yuu personally made sure to save that voicemail. It was rare to hear such emotion from Vil Shoenheit without having paid him an insane amount of money and hours of makeup and hair styling. Should Crowley try to withhold their allowance, they had a nice little nest egg to sell.

Soon, Yuu heard the front door swing open, the wood slamming against the wall and no doubt deepening the dent that was already there. Crewel really needed to announce himself at all times when he was annoyed. Yuu doesn’t rise from the couch, instead letting out a high-pitched yip to let him know where in the house they were. Hearing the click of the adult's shoes, Yuu waves over the side of the couch, “Sup, papa dog.”

“Hello, puppy.” Crewel leans over the back of the couch, his gloved hand petting her head and pressing a kiss to her hair, “How are you feeling?”

“Like bloody dirt.”

“Hmm.” Crewel drops a bag onto their stomach, the warmth and smell of it giving away that it was a take-out box of food, “Breakfast from your eels. You’ll need to eat it before you take this pain potion.”

Yuu smiles, pulling the food out and digging in. Mid chew, they raise an eyebrow, “Why’s this potion different? I normally take them without food all the time.” They watch Crewel pull out a flask, but instead of the normal green-colored syrup, it was a bright cyan. The bottle itself had a warning tag on the glass, “What the fuck is that?”

“This, puppy, is a medical-grade pain potion. While I am able to brew anything, it’d be illegal for me to brew something of this strength without proper licensing. So, I tasked Ms.Oster with making a few for you.”

The distrust Yuu had instantly faded, reaching out for the flask with a smile, “Oh, I love Ms.Oster.”

Crewel pulls the bottle from their reach, playfully sneering down at them, “Yeah, I know.”

Ingrid Oster was one of the science professors under Crewel’s direction in the school. She mainly taught practical magic and magical first aid. Even though Yuu had no reason to even know the woman as a first year, they had managed to meet and we’re now teacher/student ‘besties’, something that deeply annoyed Crewel. The number of times the bi-colored man had walked into the staff room only to see the two of them having a luncheon and gossiping about other students. Not to mention Ingrid only upped her teasing, telling Crewel that he wears the ‘dad look’ very well.

Crewel demanded they finish their food before letting them even touch the bottle. The teacher explained how a medical-grade pain potion had a much stronger effect than the standard potion. It lasted for nearly a whole day instead of 4-6 hours, not to mention how it worked. Instead of simply numbing the nerves to give pain relief, a medical-grade pain potion targeted the muscle system, physically relieving tension and letting the fibers relax. As such, they were very rarely used outside of hospitals, but Crewel didn’t feel comfortable having Yuu drink possibly more than two potions a day.

Once Yuu was done eating, Crewel held up a finger, making sure he had their attention, “Don’t drink all of this like a normal potion. This is much stronger than that so I want you to sip. Understand? Sip.”

Yuu sighed, making a grabby hand motion until Crewel handed the flask over, noting how it still felt a bit warm through the glass under their fingers. Uncorking the bottle they make sure to sip the liquid as loudly as possible. Pulling it away and smiling at Crewel’s annoyed look, “Sip.”

“Enough of the sass or I won’t be sending you lunch.” Crewel collected the trash, throwing it away for them in the kitchen before walking back into the lounge, “Ortho hasn’t answered me yet about any of his findings. But, then again I think you actually managed to traumatize the poor boy. Until then, you’re sadly on house arrest, puppy. Invite who you wish, but you shouldn't roam campus how you like.”

“Fine…” Yuu slumped back onto the couch, pouting but feeling better as the potion started to take a mild effect. They do send a smile as Crewel ruffles their hair.

Crewel reminds them once more to not drink the whole bottle, Sip, giving their head another kiss before he left. As much as he’d want to stick around to make sure his favorite pup was taken care of, he was a very busy teacher and he had lesson plans to prepare for tomorrow.

The second Crewel had slammed their front door closed, they uncorked the flask again and drank the whole potion. They’d rather just deal with the full effect of the potion in one sitting instead of having to sip for hours on end or wake up from a surprise nap in pain. Crewel would understand if he came back and Yuu was in some type of medically induced coma.

Lunch rolled around, and along with it came three steady, loud knocks on the front door. Yuu blearily blinked their eyes open, yep, they passed out on the couch. Luckily they didn’t roll onto their phone, checking the time and messages before another three knocks rang out. As before, Yuu lets out a loud —bird-adjacent— call, their universal sign of approval. She giggles lightly, hearing Ace and Deuce return the call when they open the door, the sound of Riddle scolding them for making 'nonsense noises' without permission.

The Heartslabyul crew all walked into the lounge, each in casual clothing and a different level of uneasiness but smiling all the same. Cater was in the back, phone held nervously with both hands as he gave a wary eye at their prone form. Trey was calm as normal, holding a picnic basket in hand. Ace and Deuce were already in front of them, leaning down and annoying her mildly. Mainly Ace, the redhead poking at her stomach asking if she was still bleeding. Deuce hissed at him to stop, ‘What if you poke them so hard they bleed more?’

Riddle stood with an extra type of rigidity in his stance, the only give that he was uncomfortable. Even with his medical knowledge, he always found blood to be a deeply uncomfortable topic. But, he was willing to face his apprehension if it was for his younger classmate's benefit. Walking closer, Riddle clears his throat before speaking, “Apologies, Yuu. We’ve visited without a prior invite or call, but due to recent events I believe we can have a pass on that rule for now…”

Cater nods his head, but still refusing to get closer, “We were totes worried about you, sweetie. Plus the ADeuce duo over here wasn’t making things better by vague ranting in the dorm…”

The two freshmen glare over their shoulder’s at Cater. They had returned to the dorm yelling at each other the day prior, a common occurrence. What peaked the upperclassmen’s worry was the dubious context of their argument and their silence when Riddle demanded to know what had happened.

Yuu smiles, blinky slowly, still half asleep from their nap, “Sorry. In fairness I wasn’t expecting it to happen, so I was really unprepared.” Cater actually had a more familiar reaction, something Yuu wasn’t aware that she missed. The mild fear from boys the second periods were mentioned, skirting around but still ready to help out because they knew they were in danger.

Trey chuckles, looking at Cater’s nervous self from the corner of his eye. Holding up the basket he taps it lightly, “We brought you some croissants, freshly baked this morning. I can even make you a sandwich with fixings of your choice.” He wouldn’t mention the hastily compiled ‘survival guide’ Jade had sent him last night. The main point being that favored food seemed to be the only thing to keep Yuu in a relatively calm state.

“I just woke up, don’t give me choices…” Yuu whined lightly, curling into the couch but still muttered out, “You know I like croissants savory or sweet, surprise me. And thanks for bringing me lunch.”

“No problem, Yuu. I heard from Crewel you were on house arrest. So to ease his workload we’ll be watching you for the day.” He starts to walk away, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll get to making you something to eat.”

“And I’ll help him! Bye, sweetie!” Cater hurried after Trey, seeing an opportunity to run and taking it.

Ace sighed, standing up straight, “Jeeze, you’re such trouble…You can’t even be bothered to sit up while you talk to us?”

“Don’t bully them, Ace! They’re in pain!” Deuce sputters, turning to Yuu with a worried, “Wait are you still in pain, should we have brought you a potion?”

Yuu waves him off lightly, slowly patting him on the face until the worried pout loosens, “Don’t worry. Crewel brought me breakfast and a pain potion. I’m as…chill as a…cold thing…Yeah…”

“You’re still half asleep is what you are…” Ace mutters quietly, rubbing the back of his head before he looks up. He looks back down, a smirk on his face, “But, since I’m such a good friend, I’ll help around since you’re too useless to do it right now.” Waving he starts to walk toward the stairs, “I’ll go clean your room.”

Deuce jumps up, growling under his breath before he follows Ace, “You’re not slick! I know you’re just gonna nap up there! Just because Yuu isn’t using their bed, doesn’t mean you get to laze around in it!” He had run out of the room after the fleeing redhead, only to rush back in. Kneeling down he gathers Yuu into his arms in a quick hug, “Glad you’re ok, Yuu.”

“Aw…Thanks, buddy.”

Deuce releases them, running back to the stairs and his yelling fading the farther he gets.

In the silence, Yuu drifted between half asleep and simply staring into the air. They probably shouldn’t have taken the whole potion, but they’d never admit to Crewel being right. Not after they deliberately disobeyed him. While studying their hand in the open air, they notice Riddle had stayed in the room, looking more and more conflicted, “...You ok?”

“...” Riddle shifted nervously, looking to the side before he walked closer. Crouching down, he whispered, almost in fear of anyone else hearing him, “Are you really bleeding from your…vagina?”

“...” She wasn’t going to laugh, she refused to laugh. Not when Riddle was looking at them so concerned. He didn’t deserve that. She didn’t know if her face stayed straight or betrayed just how hard she was trying to not laugh, but she reached out to pat Riddle on the head, “I am…but it’s fine. Other than cramps, this doesn’t actually hurt me. No need to be all worried…”

That seemed to be enough for Riddle, the 2nd year letting out a sigh of relief before he stood back to his full height, “In that case, would you allow me to interview you?”

“Interview?”

With a wave of his pen, a notebook appeared in his hands, “You are a biological alien to us, though we seem to forget that at times… Such functions don’t happen to the people of Twisted Wonderland, it’d be any researcher's dream to study it.” Coughing into his fist he calms himself, “But, I understand if you are uncomfortable with such a thing. I only thought it’d be good to get the facts documented should something similar happen again.”

Yuu chuckles, seeing how eager Riddle was. One thing Yuu knew about Riddle, was that he loved puzzles. Researching a new topic with little information was a blind puzzle to him and he dived into research like it was a water slide. Sure he was trying to curb his enthusiasm since they were affected by an ‘alien illness’, but he just couldn’t stop how excited he was.

“I don’t mind, Riddle.”

Riddle’s nervous energy instantly passes, smiling at them before he flips the notebook open. Sitting in front of their legs on the couch, he clicked his wand to uncap the pen, “Perfect! Now, what is happening in broad terms?”

“Pussy peeling.”

Riddle sighed so hard that Yuu was worried he’d fall over dead from lack of air, “Yuu...You know I dislike that word, I’m begging you.”

Yuu giggles, a leg moving to lightly push against Riddle’s back before calming down, “I’m sorry…My Vagina is peeling, liquifying the scraps and then forcing it out of my body.”

Riddle looked ill, but I kept writing, “That sounds horrific…”

“Oh, it is.”

“What function does this process serve?”

“Baby room reno.”

“...What?”

Yuu groaned, head falling back against the armrest, trying to figure out an easier way to explain. Snapping their fingers, they point toward Riddle, “My pussy is replacing the wallpaper.”

“In no way…does that help me.”

“Aaaaaokay. Imagine your hormones, like, spend the whole month decorating a nursery. But, turns out there’s no baby. So the hormones throw a fit and decided to redo the nursery for next month. Hence…” Yuu smiles, gesturing to their stomach, “Replacing the wallpaper.”

Riddle wrote down the long-winded analogy, making sure to circle ‘Wallpaper replacement’ with a question mark beside it, “And this is normal in your world?”

“Sadly. Girls get their first period sometimes at like… 8 years old or younger.”

“Why!? That just…What is the purpose of it? I assumed this was a feature from birth, not something you just…wake up to.”

“Oh, it’s a sign that your body can make babies. It’s a hormonal change that comes packaged with puberty.”

Riddle stops writing, “You said some girls get this at 8 years old?”

“Yeah…though it’s more common around like 12 or 13. My friend got her’s when she was like 9 and she said she freaked out so hard. Her mom hadn’t had the, like, talk with her yet. So she just bled everywhere and tried to hide it.” Yuu kept rambling, recounting the stories her old friend group had shared about their first period horror stories, missing Riddle’s own dawning horror.

Yuu normally talked fondly of their old world. Funny stories with friends, and pleasant memories with their grandparents (Yuu never claimed to be an orphan. Had stated that both her parents were alive as far as she knew. She never shared a happy memory about them though). But sometimes the things they said worried them. The violence, the discrimination, the constant fear some people had to live in. The fact the people in charge would rather let their workforces starve than simply give them the rightful money earned (That bit of knowledge had even made Azul uncomfortable for a time). And now he hears that girls were ready to carry and birth children biologically? Girls, children. He’s praying that it wasn’t okay for girls so young to be engaging in such…activities, but the fact their bodies went through such a change at that age horrified him.

And a selfish part whispered that he was glad Yuu had managed to escape such a place.

Riddle manages to shake himself free of his spiraling thoughts, catching the end of Yuu's rambles.

"-And then my friend Tracy got her's in the middle of a ballet recital and she, like, bled all over the stage. Apparently, one girl was staring the whole time and tripped because of it." Yuu laughs, the sound coming out mildly choked, “Lisa…Lisa has like 3 older sisters, okay? They all got their period on the same day, so their house was super tense. Then poor lil Lisa comes out of her room crying holding her bloody bedsheet and everyone starts crying.”

Riddle looks at Yuu in worry from the corner of his eye, writing down more questions to review with Jade, “All of them at once? Would that be considered rare?” Was a period something like an overblot? The symptoms seemed to match…

“Naw, it’s common pussy ping, happens to the best of us.”

“One, stop saying that word. Two, a common what?”

Yuu nodded their head in a sage manner, eyes already drifting around the room again, “Yeah, pussy ping. It’s when you, like, sync up with other vaginas.”

“...” Riddle turns to Yuu, eyes wide in horror, “Sync up? As in…if someone’s period has started…”

“Yep.” Yuu smiles, making vague hand gestures, “If you spend enough time with another vagina, they send wifi signals to each other and sync up the calendars so that their hosts start on the same day.”

“I-Their hosts?” So a period was like an overblot. An extremely dangerous one at that if they were able to induce overblots in others simply by being around them long enough. The very thought of his own overblot resulting in the others…

“Oh yeah. The pussy is a dangerous thing. It’s acidic and can influence other vaginas to rebel.” “Wait, it’s acidic!?”

“Oh, yeah.” Yuu stretched, back popping as they sat up to look at Riddle directly, “I guess some stuff doesn’t carry over then. Yeah, my pussy is mildly acidic.”

Riddle looks down to Yuu’s covered lap, eyes panicked, “Is that healthy?” “Yeah. If your pussy juice can bleach your underwear over time, your pussy bacteria is healthy.”

Acidic was healthy. Riddle cared about Yuu, he truly did. She was like a sibling his younger self would have desperately needed to be a reason to think of how his actions affect those around him and to physically slap him for going too far. But every time he spoke to them about their natural state, he just felt intense concern. Things Yuu would joke about only made him realize that depression wore many faces, and that fact only made his worry expand to others in his dorm. Clearing his throat, Riddle edged just slightly away from Yuu’s lower anatomy, “Do you need to clean it out with soap or-”

Yuu was leaned against the back of the couch in a daze, cheek pressed into the fabric before shooting up and cutting Riddle off, “No. Nothing but clean water can go into the pussy. If you put any kinda cleaner up there it will anger the blood goddess and she will curse you and your pussy with dryness and wheat…yeast infections.”

“I- The blood goddess? You said your world didn’t have magic, who is this blood goddess!?”

“The Moon.”

…

“The…The Moon?”

“The moon controls the blood tides and demands her daughters pay for the sins of old…”

Riddle wrote down the new information, eyes wide, “Ok, let’s change the subject.”

Yuu nods, head lulling back to rest against the couch, “Periods are like…insane. Girls only like talking about them because it makes everyone else terrified.”

“I can see why…But with this affecting possibly 50% of the population, you must have had a class about it? Do you remember anything you could tell me?”

“No.”

“...No?”

“I don’t remember.”

Riddle sighs, looking at Yuu with a stern frown, “Yuu this would be much easier if you would cooperate with me-”

“No, really I don’t remember. We had the ‘puberty talk’ when I was, like, in 5th grade. We don’t review that shit until we get to Sex-Ed and I didn’t have that class yet.”

“...That sounds incredibly negligent and poorly thought out.”

“You could also opt your kid out because you don’t want them learning about sex.”

“What-”

“Those were the kids who normally end up pregnant, funny enough.”

“Childhood pregnancy isn’t funny, Yuu.”

Yuu giggled, nudging at Riddle’s back with her knee, only stopping when the 2nd year forcibly shoved her knee away from him, “It’s kinda funny. At least to laugh at the parent's stupidity, you know?”

“You’re laughing at a child getting pregnant…” Please don’t let that be a common occurrence in Yuu's world, “But, You are sexually active, aren’t you? How is that so if you’ve never had Sex-Ed?”

“The fuck kind of question is that? You’re the ghost of a sickly Victorian child who never lived to take The Dangers of Spices 101, how are you fucking Floyd?”

“It’s mandatory of Twisted Wonderland home school curriculum to teach a basic Sex-Ed course at the middle school level and you don’t need to know the details of my personal life.”

“Oh god, you had Sex-Ed with your mom.”

“Yuu-”

She waves his tone off, not at all bothered by his reddening face, “I learned from my friends. Honestly, I didn’t even know how a tampon worked until we had to make a midnight run at a sleepover one night.”

“Tampons…” Riddle writes it down, ensuring the page had plenty of space, “That’s a new term. What is it?” Jade’s notes hadn’t mentioned a ‘tampon’.

“Cotton you shove up your pussy to soak up the blood. Most of my friends used those but me and another gal named Rue liked pads better.”

Riddle nods, writing down the second word. He had heard of pads from Jade’s shared notes, and also from being manhandled by Sam’s shadows in his search for information. “I'm guessing a pad is also like a tampon, but less…invasive?”

“Yeah.” Yuu yawns, seeming to realize just how full of cotton her head was even when awake, “Though that’s mainly because I heard about what the fuck Toxic Shock was and it scared me enough to not want to use them.”

“I’m sorry, Toxic Shock? You couldn’t lead with that!?”

“Oh, right. This is like common knowledge for me so I don’t really care about it. But, Toxic Shock Syndrome is like…something that could happen if you use tampons. But it’s like super rare, to the point if you got it from a tampon? You left that thing in there for days and you deserve it because that’s just gross.”

Ok, that…that was calming at least. He wrote the new information under the Tampon page. As far as he was concerned Yuu had made a good decision, ‘Tampons’ sounded nothing but dangerous. Though Yuu had stated most of their friends preferred to use them. Maybe there was a proper method to using them that Yuu didn’t care to learn (Which honestly fit them). He reviews his notes briefly, frowning at how most of the information was concerning, “Your reproductive health is surprisingly delicate.”

“Oh, you have no idea. I could have cancer honestly.”

“What!?”

“The female anatomy is a hellscape. I could be dying right now but the cramps basically overshadow everything.” Yuu laughs, picking at her nails absent-mindedly, “There’s plenty of people who’ve, like, died from actual internal damage but they just thought it was their periods- W-whoa, Riddle are you crying?”

“No, I’m panicking!” Riddle scrambled off the couch, lifting the blanket to check Yuu directly. Or he would have if the sight of blood smeared across their inner thighs didn’t make his head swirl. The blanket drops from his hands, turning away and managing to catch himself onto his hands and knees as he dry heaved, “By the Seven, is there supposed to be that much blood!?”

“...” Yuu watches him in mild concern. But seeing how the 2nd year didn’t actually start vomiting they answered, “I think so? I might be flowing heavy since I haven’t had one in a while…”

Riddle wiped at his forehead, taking slow breaths as he stood back up, eyes roaming the floor for his dropped pen and notebook, “Heavy flow? As in the flow can change pressure? Consistency?”

“Yeah, those are words to describe it, I guess.” Yuu shrugs, head turning in the direction of the kitchen. Were Trey and Cater making the jam from scratch? What was taking the two of them so long? Looking back at Riddle, Yuu shrugs again, “To be honest I have… no idea what normal is. Honestly, no one in my world really did.” “How?”

“Dude, people were fucking terrified of periods. Before I got here? They were just now actually, like, testing pads and tampons with shit that wasn't water. Aka, not the right cunt-sistency of periods.”

Riddle gripped at his chest. The lack of common sense was baffling. These were the people in charge of that world, half the population was suffering from this illness and they couldn’t even test their sanitation products correctly, “Oh my Seven…”

“Some places were trying to ban talking about them in school, so fuck what shitty health class we had in the first place. Plus, periods can get weird, you know. Sometimes, you can like…bleed from other places.”

“What.”

“Yeah, like, from your butt or your eyes,” Yuu’s head rolls along the back of the couch, laughing as a memory resurfaces, “My friend, Chel, told us her cousin’s all came out in one piece once.”

Riddle dry heaved, stumbling back and coughing as the mental image started to form, “Trey…” He called out weakly. He was going to pass out, or vomit. Either one was wildly unwelcome at that moment.

“Apparently, it was like wet tissue just slid out of her.”

Another gag, Riddle fully turning away. The horror clear on his face unable to stop his mind.

“Yeah, her cousin sent a picture too. It looked like a bloody piece of chewed-up gum-”

“TREY!” Riddle doubled over, just barely getting his yell out, coughing as he fought against his urge to vomit. Hearing the sounds of footsteps thundering down the hall, he felt relief flood him. He couldn’t handle another minute of this, he was never good with blood. Blood was always the sign of something being deeply wrong, blood outside the body besides the need for a transfusion was never healthy. Now one of his friends was basically hemorrhaging and he had to deal with the fact it was “healthy”.

Cater and Trey rush into the room, Trey dressed in Yuu’s black ‘Shut Up and Eat’ apron with a plate of croissants gripped in his hands, “What!? Who’s dying!?”

Phone pointed in front of him, Cater films a video. If Yuu managed to kill all of them, someone would be able to find the video and know what happened to them, “Is Yuu still bleeding?”

At Riddle’s loud retch, Trey handed the plate of food to Cater. The 3rd year quickly walked over to Riddle, rubbing at his back and trying to guide him out of the lounge, “Okay, let’s get you outside. Some fresh air will help. Cater, keep Yuu company.”

Cater watches mildly stunned, Trey walking past him with his hands firmly on Riddle’s shoulders. With a plate of toasted croissant sandwiches in one hand and his still recording phone in the other Cater looked at Yuu on the couch. Their head was leaned back against the armrest, watching him with what he could only describe as a predator’s stare. Putting his phone in his pocket, Cater grabs one of the sandwiches and slowly approaches Yuu, arm outstretched as he wiggled it, “Pspspspspspspssps.”

“I can not begin to tell you what I will do to you if you don’t stop that shit right now.” The threat was empty and they both knew it. Yuu struggled to not laugh as Cater finally walked over to them normally, gently placing the plate in their waiting hands, “How fucking dare you…? I’m laying here in pain and ruining the nice towels Kalim gifted me and you’re treating me like a cat.”

“A feral cat.” Cater had eased, if only a little bit. He still wasn’t standing at an angle to let Yuu get a quick hit in, but his shoulders had finally relaxed. It helped that he knew Yuu had food now, Trey was just as confused as he was when Jade kept sending texts reflecting the importance of giving Yuu food lest they attack them in a mood swing. And now with said feral cat feeding on the still-warm sandwiches, Cater could feel a bit safer, “You’re totes a cute cat, but still feral. #Hot-Mess, #Hit-By-A-Bus, #Don’t-Bite-Me-Pwease.”

Yuu frowned, though a smile was clearly winning the fight over their expression, “Shut up…” Taking a big bite, the buttery sweet sandwich filled them with a sense of comfort. Trey’s cooking always had an odd effect Yuu found. No matter what he made it would make others feel content and full. They and the ADeuce duo would joke that Trey was using his Unique Magic to make his food replace negative emotions somehow.

Trey hadn’t answered their joke, only smiling at them and offering another pie for their hangout.

Now with a plate of warm food, Yuu was more content, almost melting into the couch and snoozing into the armrest as she hummed. In their hazy mind, Yuu could hear Cater’s chuckle. The redhead sat carefully on the armrest above their head.

“Aw, my poor rag-a-muffin froshie is having such a hard time. It really makes me wanna be a good senpai and look after you.” He sighed dramatically, tapping at his cheek as he playfully pouted, “Is this how Trey feels looking at Ace and Deuce?”

“Only if you feel a deep sense of disappointment and contempt for everything I do.”

Ace and Deuce had just entered the room, Both of them with messy hair and disheveled clothing, clearly having gotten into a scuffle before coming back downstairs. The redhead first-year scowls, clicking his tongue, “Shut up. I’ve never done a single thing wrong in my life.”

Cater snorts, trying to hide just how hard he was fighting back his laughter.

Yuu raised an eyebrow, “Did you get fucking concussed up there? You’ve done nothing right since the day you were born, and you know it.”

“Shut up, you’re lucky you’re injured! Plus, where’s Riddle and Trey?”

Deuce looked around, walking closer to Yuu to once again give them a check, “We heard Rosehearts-Senpai yelling upstairs…”

“And you just now decided to show up?” Yuu tries to shove the whole of a croissant into her mouth, seeming to not realize the issue of it not being able to fit.

Ace scoffs from the doorway, “Like we’re coming down here if he was actually mad.” He watches Yuu with a raised brow. She was just…holding the sandwich now, as though she was trying to figure out how to properly eat it.

Deuce watches in silence too, only to gently grab the sandwich from Yuu, tearing it in half before giving it back, “Yuu did you…eat anything else before we got here?”

“Yeah, papa dog brought me food…” Yuu stared at the new, smaller sandwich in hand. Half shoving it into their mouth they continued, their voice muffled, “Why do you ask?”

“...Did you have one of those gummies Sam legally doesn’t sell you?”

“Are you high!?” Cater perked up, leaning over and tilting Yuu’s head back to look into their eyes. He lets out a laugh, noticing how heavily their pupils were dilated. Well, that would also explain why Yuu seemed so calm. Cater did the same when he had lingering body aches from tending the garden. If a pain potion wasn’t available, a nice ‘chill pill’ was plenty to ease the mind and body, “Let me have one.”

Yuu huffs, nearly choking on their massive bite, “I didn’t take a gummy. I took some medicine Crewel gave me.”

Deuce leaned closer, also checking their pupils before muttering under his breath, “Was it a tranquilizer dart?”

“Naw, it was a pain potion…Like a fancy one, with a tag on it.”

…

Ace looked around the floor near the couch, eyes catching the empty bottle half hidden under the skirt of the seating. Pulling it out, he read the tag and shouted in surprise, “Dude, this like a ‘The pain is so bad I’m dying’ pain potion! Is it really that bad!?”

Deuce grabs the bottle from Ace, reading it over before handing it to Cater, “Yuu! Do you want us to take you to the hospital!? Wait, no, you don’t want to-”

“How is this empty already?”

“Huh!?” Yuu clicks back into the conversation, looking up at Cater’s concerned glance, “What do you mean how? I drunk it.”

“Sweetie, these potions are like…You can take them orally, but they’re strong enough they normally are supposed to be given via drip for a safe, lasting effect…So why is it empty already?”

“...” Yuu started to cackle, the plate of sandwiches being saved from the floor as Deuce dived to catch it as they jostled off her lap, “I fucking chugged morphine!”

“You chugged this!?”

Ace slapped his forehead, “By the Seven, you’re fucking hopeless. This period thing makes you bleed out the brain, too? You’re gonna lose what little brain cells you had to begin with.”

Yuu still chuckled, hand reaching back to bat at Cater’s fingers combing through their hair, “Fuck you, Ace. Even if I got a brain bleed, I’d still have more brain cells than you.”

“Doubtful. You’re so useless right now, you couldn’t fight your way out of a paper bag.”

Yuu’s laughter instantly stopped, smiling falling into a neutral line as their gaze snapped to Ace. The redhead’s eyes widen, fear suddenly gripping his chest at Yuu’s stare, “...Uh…”

Riddle's breathing had calmed, but now he was sitting on the steps of Ramshackle, head in his hands as he felt a headache crowning. Lifting his head he stared at his palms, as though they held the answers to his questions, “This is bad, Trey. I don’t have any other way to describe it, this is bad.”

“Riddle, calm down. We can trust Yuu to handle themselves-”

“Except, we can’t! Yuu doesn’t even have all the facts and what facts they do have may not even be right since it’s all second-hand knowledge from other uninformed minors! Not to mention they haven’t even had a proper class on the subject…By the Seven, would it even be informative? They would have dealt with this for years at that point, They probably just went on the internet and read some uncertified drivel, lord knows they won’t open a book-”

“Riddle. Breathe.” Trey grasps Riddle by one of his shoulders, shaking him lightly and thumping the 2nd year on the chest with his other hand. Something to make Riddle take more than a shallow breath in his rambles, “Like you said, Yuu’s been dealing with this for years. They know what they need and we can help by giving them access to whatever it may be.”

Now that he was taking deep gulps of air, Riddle’s anxious energy had finally died down, his stomach finally resting. He turned to Trey, worry clear in his expression, “But it’s concerning. It’s so simple, yet the difference is so obviously alien I can’t help but want to…fix it. But it’s not my place to fix it, because there’s nothing to fix and this is completely natural for them…”

“...That’s right…Riddle did something other than…the blood upset you?”

“...” He sighs, “Yuu says they have no idea about their overall reproductive health. Since they refuse to see a real medical professional and Idia isn’t going to give Ortho the permission to do intrusive body scans, we have no way of checking. They could have cancer and we’d have no way of knowing until they got sick or they died! They said this ‘period’ isn’t always a standard thing either! They could bleed out of their eyes one day and we won’t know if they were actually about to expire or if they were simply on their ‘period’!”

“...” Trey sighs, rubbing the back of his neck at the new information, “Ok, yeah, that…that is very worrying…But,” Trey turns to Riddle with a smile, trying to find the bright side, “Yuu knows their body. If something was really wrong, you know they’d at least tell Crewel about it. And…” He trails off, letting Riddle’s mind come to the conclusion itself.

“...” Yuu’s relationship with Crewel was, to most other students, blindingly trusting. The prefect would tell the teacher anything and everything if they truly felt concerned about the information. Yuu continued to trust Crewel so much since he responded to such faith with the same intensity and care. “And Crewel would physically drag them to a hospital if he truly felt their life was in danger…” He took one last deep breath, nodding at the ‘fact’.

Trey watches with a smile as Riddle gathers himself up. What was once a too-small teen curled in on himself in anxiety and physical illness stood his good friend Riddle Rosehearts, a calm and collected figure of authority.

“Ok, I feel much better now, thank you, Trey.” Riddle looks to the door, “I should finish interviewing Yuu. There was so much information Jade wasn’t able to collect regarding the physical aspect of this…”

Trey hums, opening the door for them as they walk back inside, “He did say Yuu was very hormonal during their visit. Eels noses are really sensitive so he might have been distracted in his own interview by that and the smell of blood.”

“Possibly-”

The sound of Ace yelling and a loud crash coming from the lounge sends them both sprinting. Riddle reached the archway first, nearly being rammed into the side by Trey sliding to a stop beside him, “What’s happening?” “Is anyone hurt!?” Cater chuckles from the back of the couch, phone poised in his hands to film the fight between Ace and Yuu on the ground, “Poor Ace is gonna be.”

Ace and Yuu were spread out on the ground, Yuu quickly making progress to reach at Ace’s face to slap and tug on his cheeks, “Say uncle!” He kept pushing at Yuu’s hands, face pulled into a scowl as a stray drop of blood eased down from his nose, “You bitch! You punched me!”

“You’re the one saying I couldn’t fight my way out of a paper bag! Are you weaker than a paper bag, Ace!?”

“Senpais!” Ace flips onto his stomach, reaching out to Riddle while his other arm braced against Yuu’s chest to keep them away from his face, “Help me! Cater and Yuu are bullying me and Deuce isn’t being useful!”

Deuce calls out from the other side of the fight, holding his thumb up, “I’m helping, Yuu! The hair, prefect! Pull him by the hair and slam his face into the carpet!”

“Senpai! Help!”

“...” Riddle turned away, holding his hand over his mouth, “Don’t bleed on Yuu’s rug…”

“ME!?”

Yuu cackles, finally managing to tangle their fingers into Ace’s wild hair, “Yeah, Ace! Don’t bleed on my rug!”

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earthtoharlow · 2 months

Text

Flashing Lights

20. Hate The Club

Jack Harlow x Singer!OC

series masterlist

“Ok I found her.” Maryse and Doja turned their attention away from the movie and looked at Saweetie who was scrolling on her phone.

“Found who?” Doja questioned.

“The bitch who Jack kissed!” Saweetie exclaimed.

All Maryse could do was sigh, and turn back to the movie they were watching. Jack had been blowing up her phone for days now, and they were left unanswered. She didn’t want to hear the excuses.

Right now, she could hardly muster up the energy to care. Her heart felt like it had been shattered into a million pieces, and the thought of confronting the other girl seemed insignificant in comparison to the pain she was experiencing.

“I don’t care,” Maryse murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she shook her head wearily. “It doesn’t matter.”

Doja & Saweetie looked at each other in concern. They were worried about their friend. They’ve been with Maryse everyday for the past couple days and haven't seen her cry once. It was concerning.

As Maryse sat in the quiet solitude of her thoughts, she found herself replaying the moment she saw Jack kiss another girl over and over again. Each iteration brings with it a fresh wave of anguish and despair.

She couldn’t shake the feeling of disbelief, the nagging sense that somehow, she had been blindsided by the very person she had trusted with her heart.

Fueled by a mix of frustration and anger, Maryse turned to her friends with a determined glint in her eyes. “Hey, do you guys want to hit up the club tonight?” she asked, her voice tinged with defiance. “I need to blow off some steam.”

Doja & Saweetie exchanged surprised glances, taken aback by Maryse’s sudden change in demeanor. After all, Christmas was just around the corner, and most people were gearing up for festive celebrations with family and loved ones. But Maryse couldn’t bring herself to care about holiday cheer—not when her heart felt like it had been shattered into a million irreparable pieces.

Without waiting for their response, Maryse pushed herself to her feet, restless energy coursing through her. She needed to escape the suffocating weight of her memories, to lose herself in the music and drinks, if only for a few fleeting hours.

“I don’t think that’s a great idea…” Saweetie said with worry. Doja nodded in agreement and added “yeah, why don’t we just stay here and finish watching some movies?”

Maryse knew they were right deep down. Drowning in her sorrows at some club was hardly the solution to her problems but in the moment she couldn’t bare to face the truth, couldn’t bring herself to confront the raw pain that was consuming her.

“I just need to get out of my own head for a little while,” Maryse eventually replied, her voice tinged with defiance. “I can’t stay cooped up in here, wallowing in self-pity. I need to feel alive again, I need to forget.”

Doja and Saweetie nodded sympathetically, understanding where their friend was coming from. While Saweetie helps Maryse pick out an outfit, Doja pulls out her phone and hurries to text Urban.

“Hey, we’re going to the club with Maryse and she’s really hurting right now,” the message read, the words flashing across the screen in rapid pace. “We need to get her and Jack back together. Can you talk to him and convince him to come?”

***

Urban looks down at his phone, Doja’s message burning a hole through his phone. He knew that convincing Jack to leave the house would be hard but he knew he had to at least try.

Taking a deep breath, Urban pressed his ear against the door trying to see if he could hear him in the room. He then raised his hand and rapped gently on the wood, the sound echoing through the hallway.

“Hey, man,” Urban began, voice muffled by the barrier between them. “I know you’re going through a tough time right now, but I think it might do you some good to get out of the house for a bit.”

There was a moment of silence, during which Urban held his breath, waiting for a response. Then, to his relief, he heard the click of the door unlocking, followed by the creak of hinges as it swung open.

Jack stood on the other side, his expression guarded as he regarded his friend with wary eyes.

“Maryse will be there.” Urban told him gently, he could see Jack’s eyes light up slightly at the mention of Maryse.

“Okay,” Jack said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll come.”

Urban sighed in relief, and offered Jack a small smile, silently hoping that tonight would go well.

***

Maryse plastered a fake smile on her face as she navigated through the crowded club. Everyone at the club looked like they were having a good time but she still felt a hollow emptiness gnawing at her insides.

She had convinced herself that a night out with her friends was just what she needed to forget about the breakup, to drown out the echoes of heartache that haunted her every waking moment. But as the minutes stretched into hours, Maryse found herself growing increasingly weary of the charade.

All she wanted to do was go home, to escape the suffocating weight of her emotions, but she knew that she had to fight through the pain, and pretend that everything was fine.

As Maryse approached the bar to order another drink, her heart skipped a beat when she spotted Jack walking through the door with Urban. Anger flared within her, hot and fierce, as she realized that her friends must have been the ones to tell him where she was.

Maryse stormed over to where Doja and Saweetie were gathered, her steps heavy with anger and frustration. As she reached them, her words tumbled out in a rush, fueled by a potent mix of hurt and betrayal.

“How could you do this to me?” she spat, her voice laced with venom. “I trusted you, and you went behind my back and told him where I was. I thought you were supposed to be my friends.”

They recoiled at her accusations, their faces a mask of shock and guilt. But Maryse was too consumed by her anger to notice, too blinded by her pain to see the hurt she was causing.

Jack, seeing all the commotion, approached the group with a look of concern in his eyes. He reached out to touch Maryse arm, his voice soft and soothing as he tried to calm her down.

“M, please.”

Maryse, desperate to push him away, pulled away from Jack’s touch and turned her attention to the nearest guy on the dance floor. She threw herself into the strangers arms, and flirted with him shamelessly.

Jack watched in distress as she danced with the stranger. He knew that she was only doing it to hurt him, to make him jealous, but it still stung to see her with someone else.

Despite feeling discouraged, he ignored the looks from his friends and went to the dark corner of the club, where he still had a good view of Maryse. She didn’t want to be around him but he still cared and worried about her. He was going to stay and make sure she didn’t go home with anyone.

It seemed like hours before it looked like Maryse was ready to go home. He noticed she was stumbling and looking around frantically, looking for someone. She finally caught his eye, and started walking towards him.

Maryse’s vision was clouded by tears and confusion. She reached out for him, her fingers grasping desperately at his shirt.

“Jackman please,” she slurred, her words thick with emotion. “I can’t do this anymore. Take me home, please.”

Jack’s heart ached in his chest at the sight of Maryse’s tear-stained face, his own eyes brimming with unshed tears. Without hesitation, he gathered Maryse into his arms, holding her close.

“I’ve got you. Let’s get you home.” And with that, he carried her out of the club.

As they settled into the car, Maryse was still crying in the passenger seat. She turned to Jack, her face flushed with emotion.

“Why did you kiss that girl?” she choked out, her voice trembling with hurt.

Jack felt a pang of guilt tug at his heart knowing that this wasn’t the right time or place for such conversation. But he also knew that he couldn’t lie to Maryse, not when her heart was breaking before his eyes.

“I didn’t kiss her,” he said softly, his voice filled with regret. “I’m so sorry, Maryse. I never meant to hurt you. I love you more than anything in this world.”

Maryse stayed silent and leaned her head out the window. Jack just sighed and continued driving.

When they finally made it to her apartment, Jack helped Maryse as she stumbled up the steps. When they finally get inside, Jack goes to the bathroom to grab her makeup’s wipes.

He helps Maryse change into her pajamas. Jack gently wipes the makeup off her face, knowing that she would be upset in the morning if she slept in it. Jack’s heart ached at the sight of her tear-stained face, the pain etched in every line and curve. “Can you stay with me tonight? And leave in the morning before I wake up? I don’t want to be alone.” Maryse softly.

“I’ve got you,” Jack murmured softly, his voice calming her. “I’ll take care of you, Maryse. I’ll always be here for you.”

Tears still streaming down her cheeks, Maryse nodded slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you, Jack.” she murmured, her words choked with emotion. “I just… I don’t know how to make this go away. I want to trust you again, but I can’t stop thinking about… about her.”

Maryse squeezed his hand tightly, seeking comfort. “But I miss you.” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I miss having you next to me at night, feeling your arms around me. And if you asked me to move in with you again, I would say yes this time, without hesitation.”

Her words hung heavy in the air. Jack knew that he had hurt her deeply even though it was a whole misunderstanding and that there were no words he could say to erase the pain.

“I’ll stay with you tonight, M. But in the morning, if that’s what you want, I’ll leave. I’ll give you all the space you need.”

Jack then tucked her into bed, and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering against her skin. Maryse was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Jack remained awake, his thoughts consumed by the weight of the impending dawn. He knew that when morning came, he would have to honor Maryse's wishes and leave her, despite the ache in his heart.

As he watched her sleep, Jack couldn’t bear the thought of saying goodbye, or walking away from the woman he loved more than life itself.

The light shined through the window Maryse stirred from her sleep, her heart heavy with the weight of the night’s events. With a heavy sigh, she opened her eyes, the memories of the previous evening flooding back with painful clarity.

Turning over, she reached out for Jack, her hand grasping at the empty space where he should have been. Reality crashed down upon her like a wave, and with a choked sob, tears spilled from her eyes, trailing down her cheeks.

Maryse longed for Jack’s warm embrace, but she knew that he was gone, just as she had asked.

***

an: this hurt so much ngl 😢 consider this chapter a season finale!! The next part of this series will be called Don’t Like the Lights and it’ll have a tiny time jump to the Grammys to when CHTKMY and Maryse’s debut album is nominated 🫢!! We finally made it to 2023 y’all 🫶🫶🫶🫶 as always let me know your thoughts or yell at me either is fine 😭

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