#Thanks for the lore Cake! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

carnalcrows · 12 days ago

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summary: You weren’t supposed to fall for him. Not the mountain guide with a sharp tongue and rough hands. Not when your kingdom was unraveling, your brother was missing, and your heart was already cracked from too many years spent waiting behind closed gates. But then again—none of this was supposed to happen. The eternal winter. The betrayal. The truth hidden beneath ice and silence. Now the world is colder than it’s ever been, and the only way forward might be through the storm. And through him.

pairing: kristoff! toji fushiguro x anna! bottom male reader

content warnings: 18+, romance, angst, fluff, smut (oral + p in a), bottom male reader, slow burn, emotional repression, ice magic, betrayal, brief imprisonment, soft reindeer, sibling angst, rooftop kissing, snowman lore.

word count: 6.9k (nice)

best viewed in dark mode

The bells rang at dawn.

You were already awake, sitting half-dressed on the edge of your bed, staring at the same spot on the stone wall you’d memorised sometime around age twelve. The castle had started buzzing hours ago, and now the sound of carriages rolling through the gates echoed through the open window like thunder. For the first time in forever, Arendelle wasn’t quiet.

The kingdom was opening its doors.

Which meant… today, you were allowed to leave your room.

Your heart slammed in your chest. Not from nerves. From the need to move.

You shoved your boots on, didn’t bother with the rest of the ceremonial layers, and ducked out the servant passageway before anyone could stop you. The halls were alive with chatter — voices and footsteps and rustling silk. You slipped past them like smoke, taking the stairs two at a time until the front doors loomed in sight.

Sunlight poured in.

People. Real people. Vendors and nobles, and foreign visitors spilling across the courtyard. Colours you hadn’t seen in years. Laughter. Horses. The smell of cinnamon bread and too much perfume.

It was overwhelming.

It was perfect.

You grinned.

You were halfway through your first lap around the courtyard when someone found you.

“Your Highness—!”

You turned. One of the advisors. Maybe. You hadn’t really learned names outside the staff.

“We’ve been looking everywhere—”

“I was doing reconnaissance,” you said. “For security purposes. You know. Royal stuff.”

They frowned. “You’re supposed to be helping your brother prepare for the coronation.”

“I’m helping him by staying out of his way.”

“Please go inside.”

You sighed dramatically. “Fine.”

Back in the great hall, the atmosphere had shifted. Nanami stood tall in his regalia — gold-trimmed, stiff-shouldered, eyes so carefully blank you wanted to shake him. He looked like a statue. Not a man about to become king.

You approached the throne and leaned in just enough to murmur, “You okay?”

He didn’t look at you. “Don’t be late.”

“That’s your way of saying thank you, right?”

Still nothing.

God, he was the worst at this.

You’d never been a fan of formalwear.

It itched. It clung in the wrong places. And every time you turned your head too fast, the collar threatened to cut off circulation. But apparently, this was the price of being royalty — buttoned cuffs and boots polished until they blinded your reflection.

Still, you had to admit: the ballroom looked beautiful.

Light poured in from the windows above. Music wound through the air, soft strings and brass layered under the quiet murmur of people trying not to seem impressed. The polished floor reflected everything — gold trim, blue velvet, the shine of new crowns.

And then there was him.

He was leaning casually near one of the refreshment tables, cup in hand, expression relaxed. Like this was all just a formality he didn’t need to pretend to care about. His eyes skimmed the room once, then found yours.

He smiled.

You turned too fast and almost knocked over a chair.

Somehow, you ended up near the dessert table.

Somehow, he ended up beside you.

“Not a fan of cake?” he asked, eyes flicking down to your still-empty plate.

You shrugged. “Trying to leave room for the fifth course. Which I’m assuming is just a bigger cake.”

He laughed. “Bold strategy. Let me know if it pays off.”

You glanced at him sideways. “And you are…?”

“Prince Geto of the Southern Isles,” he said, offering a small, mocking bow. “But you can call me Suguru.”

You arched an eyebrow. “And what brings a prince to our frozen little corner of the world?”

He took a sip from his glass. “Adventure. Opportunity. The chance to meet someone worth remembering.”

Oh.

Oh, he was good.

By the time the coronation began, you were absolutely not thinking straight.

Nanami stood tall as the crown was placed on his head— steady hands, steady voice, no hint of nerves. He looked like he belonged there. You stood beside him, a few respectful paces back, trying not to bounce on your heels like a child.

Geto was somewhere in the crowd.

You could feel it.

The crown settled. The hall applauded. Trumpets flared.

And just like that— the gates stayed open.

You found Suguru again that night.

Or maybe he found you.

Either way, the two of you ended up out on the terrace together — stars overhead, lanterns strung between columns, the city below glittering like frost on stone. You laughed more than you meant to. He listened like it mattered. And when the conversation shifted — when his hand brushed yours and didn’t pull away — something inside you softened.

“This is going to sound crazy,” you said, breath fogging in the air between you, “but… I think I was supposed to meet you.”

He smiled.

And that’s how, two hours later, you ended up back inside — cheeks flushed, hands clasped — announcing your engagement to a room full of stunned nobles.

Nanami’s face didn’t move.

But his voice was cold when he said, “You can’t marry someone you just met.”

Silence swept through the ballroom like a second frost. The music faltered, and dozens of gazes turned toward you — some scandalised, others pitying, and a few gleeful in that tight-lipped way only nobility knew how to be.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

Nanami stepped down from the dais, movements precise, posture stiff. “You heard me. This is absurd.”

You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, a flush that had nothing to do with embarrassment. “You weren’t even there. You didn’t talk to him. You haven’t talked to me in years.”

Nanami’s jaw flexed. “Because it wasn’t safe.”

“No,” you snapped. “Because it was easier. Easier to shut me out than deal with whatever you were hiding.”

His eyes flicked toward Geto — still standing at your side, calm and unreadable — then back to you. “You think this is love?”

“I think this is my choice.”

“I’m still the king.”

You took a step forward. “Then maybe act like it.”

The words hit something. You saw it in the way Nanami’s expression faltered — just for a breath, a flicker — and then hardened again.

“This conversation is over,” he said tightly. “The engagement is denied.”

And then the cold cracked through the room.

It started at his feet — a sudden spread of frost lacing across the polished floor, spidering out in sharp, fractal lines. A gasp rippled through the crowd as the temperature plummeted. Ice climbed the pillars. The chandelier groaned above.

You turned, heart hammering. “Nanami?”

He looked down at his hands. They were trembling. Pale steam curled from his fingers.

He whispered, “No—”

A guard moved. Nanami flinched. Another spike of ice burst from the floor and shattered the edge of the dais.

The ballroom erupted into chaos.

Guests scattered. Dresses rustled. Someone screamed. Nanami backed away from the growing ring of frost, breath shallow, panic blooming on his face for the first time in your life.

“I didn’t mean—” he started.

But you were already moving.

“Wait—Nanami, stop!”

He didn’t. He bolted.

You chased after him through the now-frozen gates, out into the courtyard. The snow hadn’t started yet, but the sky had turned the colour of ash.

“Nanami!” you called again, voice raw, but he didn’t look back. Not once.

And then he was gone.

Vanished through the outer gates, his footprints icing over behind him.

The guards hesitated. No one followed.

So you did.

You didn’t even stop to change. You just grabbed your cloak, shoved your way through the muttering nobles, and ducked into the stables. Saddle or not, you were riding out.

Because whatever had just happened—whatever Nanami had kept secret all these years—you were going to find him.

And for once, you were going to be the one who stayed.

You didn’t make it far on horseback before the storm started.

It came from the mountains—whipping winds and a wall of snow so sudden it nearly knocked you off your horse. By the time you reached the base of the pass, the cold had sunk its teeth into your bones, and the road ahead was nothing but white.

You pressed forward anyway.

You didn’t have a plan. Just a direction, and the stubborn need to see this through.

The kingdom was in trouble. Your brother was alone. And whether or not Nanami ever wanted to talk to you again, you weren’t about to let him freeze to death on some ice-covered cliff. Not after everything.

Not again.

The wind howled around you as you crested the next ridge. Snow clung to your lashes, blurred your vision, and soaked your cloak. You urged the horse onward until its hooves slipped on the path, and you had to dismount. The rest, you'd do on foot.

The ice under your boots groaned with every step.

You didn’t stop moving.

Until a voice broke through the storm.

“You’re gonna die if you keep walking like that.”

You whirled.

A man stood just ahead, leaning against a snow-dusted outcrop with his arms crossed. Tall. Broad. Scowl permanently carved into his face. His cloak was rough and patched, lined with fur, and his hair was dark and windswept, half-frozen at the tips.

Beside him stood a reindeer, calmly chewing on a mouthful of frost.

You blinked. “...Are you talking to me?”

“No,” the man said flatly. “I’m talking to the blizzard. Of course I’m talking to you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Do you always greet strangers with insults, or am I special?”

He shrugged. “You look like a royal idiot. You ride out alone in the middle of a storm, dressed like a ballroom extra, and you’re heading straight toward an avalanche zone.”

You scowled. “I’m looking for someone.”

“So are the wolves. Hope you’re faster.”

“Excuse me?”

He jerked his head toward the woods. “They’ve been following you since the ridge.”

You glanced over your shoulder. Nothing but trees.

He smirked. “You didn’t notice?”

Your stomach turned. “Who are you?”

“Toji,” he said. “Mountain runner. Ice harvester. Grumpy bastard. Take your pick.”

You stared. “...Right.”

Toji tilted his head. “And you?”

You hesitated. You should’ve lied. Said you were a traveller. A scholar. Anything else.

But you didn’t.

“Prince of Arendelle.”

Toji blinked. “Of course you are.”

“You’ve heard what happened?”

“Hard not to. Giant magical panic storm tends to make headlines.”

You exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling up through your chest. “Look, I don’t have time to explain. I need to find my brother. He’s—he’s not well. And the longer he’s out here alone, the worse it’ll get.”

Toji’s gaze sharpened. “The king?”

You nodded. “He ran. I followed. I don’t care what anyone says—I’m not leaving him out here.”

Toji looked at you for a long moment, jaw working like he was chewing on the idea.

Then he said, “You’re coming with me.”

You blinked. “I am?”

He turned and started walking. “You’re gonna get yourself killed otherwise. I know these mountains. You don’t. So if you want to find your brother alive, stay close and keep your mouth shut.”

You opened your mouth.

He didn’t even look back. “Starting now.”

You snapped your mouth shut.

The reindeer—Megumi, apparently—gave you a judgmental side-eye as you followed. You wrapped your cloak tighter and trudged into the storm after them.

And, maybe for the first time that day, you didn’t feel entirely alone.

The path narrowed as you moved higher, trees closing in, branches heavy with ice. Wind tugged at your cloak, but you kept going, boots slipping now and then on the uneven trail. Toji didn’t slow for you—just walked ahead like the cold didn’t bother him at all.

He glanced over his shoulder once. “You always this quiet?”

You huffed. “You told me not to talk.”

“That was before I realised silence makes you look more lost.”

You squinted at his back. “Do you always insult people you’re helping?”

“Only when they dress like they’ve never stepped outside the castle.”

You bit your tongue.

Megumi snorted beside you, smug and unbothered.

By nightfall, the wind had calmed, but the temperature dropped lower. Your fingers were stiff, and your legs ached from walking. Toji eventually pointed out a hollow beneath a rocky ledge, shielded from the worst of the wind.

“We’ll camp here.”

You looked around. “You… do this often?”

Toji raised an eyebrow. “Sleep under a rock with strangers? Not really.”

You didn’t reply. You just sank down on the cold-packed ground, pulling your knees to your chest. Snowflakes caught in your hair and melted against your temple.

Toji dropped a small bundle beside you—blankets, rough wool, but warm.

“Thanks,” you muttered.

He sat a few feet away, unbothered by the cold, arms folded behind his head like it was a summer evening. You watched him in the firelight, the way his breath curled in the air, the lines around his mouth softening when he closed his eyes.

“So…” you said finally. “What’s your deal?”

He cracked an eye open. “My deal?”

“You live up here. Alone. With a reindeer.”

Megumi snorted.

Toji smirked. “The reindeer’s better company than most people.”

You waited.

He didn’t elaborate.

You sighed and leaned your head back against the stone. “You don’t seem surprised.”

“About what?”

“The magic. My brother. The storm.”

Toji shrugged. “Seen worse.” You blinked. “Worse than an eternal winter?”

“I once saw a bear take out an entire logging camp because someone stepped on her cub’s tail.”

“…Okay. Fair.”

He glanced at you again, something quieter in his expression. “But yeah. I’ve seen what fear does to people. Your brother’s scared. He didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

Your throat tightened. “I know.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and heavy. The fire crackled. Snow fell in slow, lazy spirals, and for the first time in days, you let yourself rest.

Even if only for a little while.

You woke to the soft crunch of snow and something… off. A rhythm. Humming, maybe. Low and meandering, like someone trying to keep themselves company and doing a poor job of staying in tune.

Toji was already up, crouched near what was left of the fire, blade in hand as he shaved slivers of ice off a frozen log. His eyes flicked toward the trees.

“You hear that?” he asked without looking up.

You sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from your face. “What is that?”

“Annoying,” Toji muttered. “And getting closer.”

The humming grew louder, now accompanied by the unmistakable sound of boots crunching through snow. Then a voice, conversational and way too chipper for the setting: “—No, you’re going the wrong way. I told you, the tree with the weird bend is a landmark. Not a sign of poor navigation—hi!”

A figure came stumbling through the trees, wrapped in layers of mismatched winter gear, cheeks flushed from the cold, curly pink scarf bouncing with every step. His smile was bright, genuine, and completely out of place in the frozen wild.

“Oh, thank God,” he breathed, hands on his knees. “I was starting to think I imagined the campfire.”

Toji straightened slowly. “Who the hell are you?”

The guy grinned, unbothered. “Yuuji. Just a guy. I hike. I talk to myself. Occasionally rescue royals from hypothermia. You know. Standard Tuesday stuff.”

You blinked at him. “...Are you alone?”

“Nope.” He pointed behind him. “Got a reindeer that left me about twenty minutes ago and a snowman I built that tried to stage a coup. So technically? Yes.”

You stared.

He held up his hands. “Okay, maybe not a coup. He just... rolled away. Emotionally.”

Toji exhaled through his nose. “You’re insane.”

“I get that a lot.”

You stood slowly, eyes narrowing. “You said you saw a fire?”

Yuuji nodded. “Last night. Came looking this morning. I’ve been up the trail before—if you’re headed toward the summit, you’re gonna want to take the eastern fork. The West is avalanche territory. I mean, unless you’re into that kind of thing.”

You exchanged a glance with Toji.

The man had just wandered in out of nowhere with a goofy smile and more scarves than sense, and somehow, he knew the trails better than either of you.

“…You’ve been to the palace?” you asked.

Yuuji perked up. “Oh yeah. Big, spooky, lots of sharp angles. Saw it last week. Thought it was haunted. Still might be.”

Toji didn’t look convinced. “And you just… want to help?”

Yuuji shrugged. “I mean, not help help. I’m not trying to get stabbed or anything. But I can walk and point dramatically. Pretty good at both.”

There was a long pause.

You tried not to smile. “You really built a snowman that ran away?”

“Yeah,” Yuuji sighed. “He was my best work. Had little stick arms and everything.”

Toji muttered, “We don’t have time for this.”

You turned to Yuuji. “We’ll take the east trail. If you’re heading that way—”

“Lead the way,” he grinned, already turning on his heel. “Just don’t blame me if the snowman finds us. He holds grudges.”

You pulled your cloak tighter, fell into step beside him, and tried very hard not to laugh when Toji muttered under his breath, “We’re gonna regret this.”

You probably would. But at least it wouldn’t be boring.

The east trail started narrow, tucked between cliffs that rose like jagged teeth on either side, the snow pressed hard into the ground by wind and weight. It was quiet up here—quieter than you expected, the kind of quiet that made your breath feel loud.

Yuuji didn’t seem to notice. He filled the silence easily, narrating your path with cheerful commentary as he stomped ahead, occasionally pointing out “dangerous icicles” that were barely within reach or snowdrifts that, in his words, “definitely looked haunted.”

Toji mostly ignored him, trudging on with the patience of someone long used to tuning people out.

You walked in the middle.

It wasn’t the worst place to be.

Eventually, the trees opened up to a small ridge, the trail flattening out just long enough for you to catch your breath. You pushed your hood back, letting the chill air bite at your ears, and glanced out over the valley below.

That’s when you saw it.

Rising in the distance like a jagged shard of glass—sharp, towering, almost impossibly symmetrical. The palace. Nanami’s palace. Iced over in blue and white and silver, pulsing faintly in the dim winter light like it had a heartbeat.

You stopped.

Toji followed your gaze. “That it?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Yuuji shaded his eyes with one hand. “He really went full dramatic recluse, huh?”

Toji glanced at you. “You sure about this?”

You swallowed. The frost still clung to your ribs, a weight that hadn’t quite gone away since the courtyard. “I have to talk to him.”

Toji didn’t ask why. He just adjusted the strap on his shoulder and started walking again.

The closer you got, the more the wind picked up. Not wild, but purposeful—like it was watching. Judging. Snow whipped around your ankles, and the air buzzed faintly with something you couldn’t name. Magic, maybe. Or fear.

The gates of the palace loomed ahead, carved from solid ice, clear and seamless like water frozen mid-fall. You reached out a hand. The cold stung, but it didn’t bite. The doors parted with a whisper.

Inside, the air was still. Heavy.

Every sound echoed.

You stepped forward, your boots clinking faintly on the slick floor. Toji stayed a pace behind, his presence solid at your back. Yuuji stayed outside, saying something about “respecting magical sibling privacy” and “keeping an eye on the snowman situation.”

You didn’t even make it halfway down the corridor before you saw him.

Nanami stood at the far end of the hall, framed by a window that stretched to the ceiling, frost spidering out from his bare hands.

He didn’t turn. But he spoke.

“You shouldn’t have come.” You took a breath. “And yet here I am.” He finally looked at you.

His face was pale, tired, drawn tight with something between guilt and exhaustion. His coat—one of his favourites—was rimmed in frost, heavy with snow. His eyes, always so precise, looked almost… haunted.

“You’re not safe here.”

“I’m not safe out there either.” His hands curled at his sides. “This isn’t a game.”

“I know,” you said quietly. “But you’re still my brother. That’s not changing.” Something flickered behind his expression. Not soft. Not sharp. Just… uncertain.

You took another step forward.

“Let me help.”

Nanami’s jaw tightened.

He didn’t move away, but he didn’t reach for you either. His hands stayed clenched, trembling faintly at his sides. The ice beneath your feet groaned with every word, subtle cracks threading outward like a heartbeat gone wrong.

“I’ve already done enough damage,” he said, voice flat. “The longer I stay near anyone, the worse it gets.”

“You think I care?” Your voice cracked with the cold, or maybe it cracked from something deeper. “You think I haven’t already lost enough time with you? You shut me out for years, and I—I let it happen. Because I thought maybe you needed space, or maybe I just didn’t matter enough.”

His shoulders flinched. That got to him. You stepped forward.

“You’re not dangerous,” you said. “You’re scared. You’ve always been scared.”

“Wouldn’t you be?” he snapped. “If everything you touched broke, if people looked at you and saw a curse instead of a king?”

The words echoed in the chamber, sharp and cold and final.

You took another step. “I don’t see a curse.”

He laughed, bitter and small. “Then you’re the only one.”

The wind picked up again, swirling between the columns, a current of snowflakes lifting off the floor like dust. You didn’t stop. You closed the space until you were barely a foot away and said, softer now:

“I’m still here.”

Nanami looked down at you.

For a second, you saw it—the boy he used to be. The brother who used to sneak you pastries in the dead of night, who read aloud from ledgers just to make the words sound pretty, who built snowmen with you in the courtyard before anyone cared who was watching.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” he whispered. “You don’t have to,” you said. “You just have to come home.” The room went quiet again. And then the wind stopped.

You didn’t realise you’d been holding your breath until Nanami’s shoulders dropped, the tension bleeding out of him like something broken finally unclenching.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I know.”

And for the first time in forever, he pulled you into his arms. It wasn’t warm. Not yet. But it was real.

And it was enough.

You didn’t know how long you stood there—his arms stiff around you at first, then slowly loosening, settling into something almost like comfort. The palace seemed to sigh with you, the magic in the air softening, the cold retreating from your skin just enough to feel your fingers again.

Toji waited just inside the archway, arms crossed but gaze steady. He hadn’t interrupted, hadn’t moved. He just stood there like he’d always been meant to stand behind you.

Nanami pulled back, looking down at his hands like he didn’t recognise them. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

You gave a half-smile. “You think I came this far just to see your good side?”

His laugh was short but real, and that was a victory all its own.

He looked past you then, toward Toji. “You brought backup.”

“More like he dragged me here,” you said. “I didn’t exactly come equipped for ice climbing and wolf evasion.”

Nanami’s brow furrowed. “Wolves?”

“Don’t worry,” Toji said. “I scared them off.”

“With what?” Nanami asked, incredulous.

“Toji,” you said, deadpan, “is the wolf.”

Nanami blinked. “That… makes sense.”

Before you could say more, heavy footsteps echoed from the entrance.

“Hey!” Yuuji’s voice rang down the corridor, a little out of breath. “Sorry to ruin the mood, but we’ve got company!” You turned fast. “What kind of company?”

Yuuji skidded into view, cheeks red from running. “The angry kind. A couple of guards, and—uh—Geto.”

Your stomach dropped. Nanami’s face darkened. “What is he doing here?” You didn’t have an answer.

Toji was already moving, hand on his blade, expression sharp. “They followed you.” You shook your head. “No. I—I didn’t tell anyone—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Toji said. “They’re here now.” Nanami stepped forward, a flicker of frost lacing the floor beneath his feet again. “They want me gone. If they take me, they’ll imprison me—or worse.”

“Then we don’t let them.” Yuuji nodded. “I’ll hold the front door!” You stared. “You’re not armed.”

“I have enthusiasm!” Toji sighed. “He’s going to die.”

“Not if we stop this before it starts,” you said. Nanami’s hand touched your shoulder. “You shouldn’t be in the middle of this.” You met his eyes. “I’ve always been in the middle of this. I just finally decided to stand still.”

He didn’t argue.

He didn’t have to.

—

The front of the palace looked different when you returned to it—sharper, somehow. The wind had picked up again, curling along the pillars like it was bracing for a fight. Snow clung to the arches in delicate spirals, and the air felt charged, brittle.

Geto stood in the open just beyond the gate, dressed in the same polished coat he’d worn to the coronation. He looked almost out of place surrounded by frost—too smooth, too warm. His eyes flicked upward when he spotted you.

“You came all this way for him,” he said, voice casual, but not quite smiling. “How romantic.”

Toji stepped forward before you could. “Cut the shit. What do you want?”

Geto tilted his head. “What everyone wants. Order. Stability. A kingdom that isn’t gripped by magic and fear.” Nanami stepped into view behind you.

Geto didn’t flinch. “And the monster makes his entrance.”

You could feel Nanami tense beside you. Toji moved subtly closer, like he could anchor the space between all of you before it cracked.

“I’m not your enemy,” Nanami said, low.

“Tell that to the frostbite victims,” Geto replied, cold.

“Don’t do this,” you said. “We can fix it. Nanami’s not a threat. He never was.” Geto’s gaze slid to you, then measured, quiet. “You’re in love with an idea. You always were.”

You felt that one in your ribs.

Toji’s voice was a growl. “You’re wasting our time.”

“Funny,” Geto said, and stepped forward, hand twitching toward something under his coat. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

And then the air snapped. Nanami moved.

So did Toji.

A crack of ice shot across the ground, fast and sudden, catching Geto mid-step. He slipped, barely, but it was enough. Toji closed the distance with a snarl, hand around Geto’s collar, blade flashing in the light.

But Geto didn’t draw a weapon. He didn’t fight back.

He just smiled.

“Arendelle deserves better than chaos,” he said. “You’ll see.”

Toji knocked him out with the hilt of his blade.

It was over in seconds.

You stood in the snow, breathing hard, heart pounding, staring down at the man you’d once imagined yourself marrying—and felt nothing but relief.

Not grief.

Not anger.

Just… release.

Nanami’s hand found your shoulder again. “Thank you.”

You turned. “You’re the one who saved us.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But you came for me first.”

You didn’t say anything to that.

You didn’t have to.

—

You left Geto in the snow, unconscious and disarmed, his breath fogging faintly against the pale light. Toji bound his hands with a cord from his pack, tight and deliberate, then turned to you.

“We need to move,” he said. “This won’t be the last of it.”

He was right.

You didn’t ask how he knew. You could feel it too—the heaviness in the air, the way the wind shifted. Something bigger was coming. And you hadn’t seen Gojo since the coronation.

That alone should’ve told you everything.

You took the southern ridge back toward the lowlands, hoping to circle the storm’s edge before it reached the valley. Yuuji caught up just past the ice falls, cheeks red, voice hoarse but chipper.

“I think I lost a boot,” he panted. “But I saved the snowman!”

Megumi made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan.

You slowed as you reached the next crest. Down below, the castle rose dark against the horizon, snow curling off the battlements like breath. Fires burned low in the city. The gates were sealed.

Toji frowned. “That’s not good.”

You stared. “What is?”

He pointed. Near the outer wall, rows of torches lined the square. Uniformed guards stood at attention, flanked by banners you didn’t recognise—crest designs subtly altered, new emblems sewn in gold thread.

At the centre of it all stood Gojo Satoru.

He wore white trimmed in silver, the old king’s seal draped around his shoulders like a shroud. His expression was unreadable from this distance, but you could see how the guards looked at him—like a man they already believed in.

Your stomach sank.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” you whispered.

Nanami’s breath was steady beside you, but his hands had curled into fists again. “He moved fast.”

“He’s been planning this,” Toji said. “He was waiting.” Yuuji looked between you all, confused. “Wait—who is that?”

You answered without thinking. “The king’s advisor.”

“Former advisor,” Nanami corrected quietly. And then, like he felt you watching, Gojo looked up. His eyes met yours across the snow-covered distance, and for the briefest moment, he smiled.

It wasn’t friendly.

You backed away from the ridge. “We need to get inside,” you said. “Now.”

Toji nodded once, sharp. “I’ll find a way.” He was already moving when your hand caught his arm.

He paused. “I mean it,” you said. “Be careful.” He looked at you—really looked at you—for the first time all day.

And then, without a word, he leaned in and pressed his forehead to yours. Just for a second. Just enough.

Then he was gone.

You watched him disappear into the trees. The sky overhead began to darken again. And you had a feeling that this wasn’t the end.

It was just the beginning.

The courtyard gates were already open when you reached them.

You weren’t sure if that made it easier or worse. The guards didn’t stop you—just looked past you, like their orders hadn’t included you. Like, maybe someone wanted you to walk straight in.

Inside, the square had transformed. Banners had been torn down and replaced with clean lines, crisp crests you didn’t recognise. Silver instead of gold. White instead of blue. Everywhere you looked, Gojo’s version of the kingdom had already begun to take shape.

He stood at the steps of the palace, hands clasped behind his back, posture regal.

You used to think he was handsome in that distant, untouchable way. The kind of man who knew he was smarter than the room and enjoyed pretending otherwise. But now, standing in front of him, all you saw was a crown he hadn’t earned.

He smiled as you approached.

“You made it,” he said, like this was a party. “And here I was, starting to think you got lost.”

“I should’ve known it was you.”

Gojo gave a soft laugh. “You were always too trusting. It’s cute. Naive. A little exhausting.” Your hands clenched at your sides. “You were our advisor.”

He tilted his head. “You say that like I didn’t advise. I tried. Really. But when the throne is handed to a walking disaster and a prince who believes in fairy tales, someone has to keep the kingdom standing.”

“You mean under your rule.” He smiled wider. “Exactly.”

Nanami stepped forward beside you.

Gojo’s smile faltered.

“I thought you’d run,” he said. “That’s what you’re good at, isn’t it?” Nanami didn’t answer. He just lifted one hand, palm out.

The wind shifted.

The torches flickered.

Frost spread beneath his feet—and this time, it moved with control. Precise. Elegant. The guards backed up instinctively, unsure.

Gojo raised his chin. “You really think you can scare me now?”

“No,” Nanami said, calm. “I think you already are.”

Gojo reached for something beneath his coat.

He never got the chance.

Toji hit him like a storm.

No warning. Just a blur of motion, steel flashing in the light, Gojo’s body hitting the ground with a grunt. Toji’s foot came down hard on Gojo’s arm, pinning him, blade poised just above his throat.

Gojo hissed. “You—”

“Me,” Toji said flatly. “The guy who didn’t betray the crown.”

Around you, the guards froze.

And then Yuuji burst into the square with a triumphant yell, waving a flag he had absolutely not been given permission to wave, riding Megumi bareback like a child on holiday.

“Victory or whatever!” he shouted.

The silence that followed was… surreal.

And then someone in the crowd laughed.

Nanami stepped forward.

“This ends now,” he said. “No more fear. No more hiding.”

The guards looked at each other, uncertain.

Then, slowly, one by one—they lowered their weapons.

Gojo didn’t speak again.

He was taken to the dungeons that night.

And Arendelle began to thaw.

It didn’t happen all at once—the thaw. The snow melted slowly, retreating in ribbons from the rooftops, slipping from the edges of shutters and gutters and castle spires like a long-held breath finally let go. The sky brightened day by day. Light found its way into corners that hadn’t seen it in weeks.

People came out of their homes again. Windows opened. Children screamed in delight at the sudden return of puddles.

Nanami didn’t take the throne immediately. He stepped back from it, quietly, without ceremony. Said he needed time to learn how to rule without fear. Without shutting people out. Without shutting you out.

You believed him.

You spent the next few days in the palace, helping repair what you could—broken windows, damaged halls, frostbitten crops that needed replanting. Yuuji became a local legend. The snowman reappeared and promptly fell apart again. And Toji…

Toji stayed.

Not because he had to. But because, when it was all over, when the guards laid down their arms and the flags were restored, he looked at you and didn’t say goodbye.

Instead, he said, “You owe me a drink.”

You said, “You saved the kingdom.”

He shrugged. “I’ll settle for the drink.”

And then he smiled.

The room was quiet, dimly lit by the low burn of the fireplace and the silver spill of moonlight through the frosted windowpanes. You’d slipped away from the feast hours ago. The crown still felt too heavy on your brother’s head. The castle, too full of laughter that didn’t quite reach your chest. But Toji had found you anyway—of course, he had.

He didn’t say much when he closed the door behind him, just watched you for a long moment from across the room. You met his eyes, said nothing, and held out your hand.

He took it without hesitation.

When he kissed you, it was softer than you expected. Slow. Like a man who’d thought about this more times than he’d admit and didn’t want to get it wrong. You let yourself lean into him, your fingers tangling in the back of his shirt, your breath catching when he deepened it—when he backed you into the windowsill and kissed you like you were something worth losing a war over.

Your hands slid beneath his coat, feeling heat and scar tissue and steady strength. His mouth never left yours for long, just long enough to murmur your name against your skin, to breathe out a curse when you pulled at the layers of his shirt, when your fingers dragged along his spine and felt him shudder.

The fire crackled behind you. His palm found your waist, then your ribs, then higher, fingers splayed like he was trying to memorise you by feel alone. When you gasped into his mouth, he pulled back, just enough to look at you.

“You sure?” he asked, voice hoarse.

You nodded. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

That was all he needed.

The rest was slow. Clothes slipped away one piece at a time, each fold of fabric kissed away like a promise. He traced his hands down your chest like he’d waited his whole life to do it—like you were the only beautiful thing left in the world. You felt him everywhere: the drag of his lips down your throat, the press of his palms against your hips, the way he whispered your name like it meant something sacred.

You weren’t cold anymore.

He laid you down carefully—no rush, no weight you didn’t want. Just heat. Just skin. The brush of his mouth over your collarbone, down the slope of your chest, his breath warm and ragged when you arched into him, gasped his name, trembled beneath his hands. He was gentle, but thorough, moving like a man who didn’t need to ask what you wanted—he already knew. He gave it slowly, completely, one kiss, one stroke, one breath at a time.

When he finally entered you, it stole what little breath you had left.

It wasn’t pain. Not with him. It was weight and heat and fullness, your body adjusting to him like you’d been made for this, for him. His hand found yours and didn’t let go. His mouth never strayed far from your throat, murmuring soft praises and curses that blurred together as he moved—slow at first, then deeper, drawn into you with every gasp that escaped your lips.

You moaned into his mouth when he kissed you again, fingers clutching at his back, the slow, grinding rhythm of him inside you building into something bright and unbearable. He hit a spot that made your vision blur, your legs tighten around his hips.

“There?” he breathed.

You could only nod.

He groaned, deep in his chest, and began to move with more purpose, each thrust sending sparks down your spine. The pleasure coiled in your belly, tighter and tighter, like a thread pulled taut. You could feel him unravelling too—his movements growing rougher, his voice rasping your name like a prayer, his grip tightening around your waist like he couldn’t bear to let you go.

When you came, it ripped through you like fire, all warmth and shuddering release, your whole body arching into his. He followed you moments later, a muffled curse into your skin, hips stuttering as he spilled into you, burying his face in the curve of your neck like he’d break if he let go.

You held him there.

Neither of you spoke for a long time.

Eventually, he shifted just enough to look at you, eyes dark and full of something you didn’t have a name for.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered.

You smiled, fingers brushing through his hair. “Good. Because I’d just come looking for you.”

He kissed you again, slower this time. Softer.

And in the silence that followed, in the cooling warmth of tangled limbs and moonlight, you fell asleep with his heartbeat steady beneath your hand.

The spring that followed was the softest Arendelle had ever seen.

Snowmelt shimmered on the cobblestones, pooling into gutters and gardens alike. Wildflowers broke through the frost like they’d been waiting for permission. Birds returned to the palace towers. The market reopened in full colour, with banners strung from every window and laughter that finally sounded real again.

Your brother ruled with a quieter hand now. Firmer in some ways, softer in others. He smiled more. Trusted more. Sometimes he let you sit in on council meetings and didn’t scold you for making faces behind the baroness from the western fjord. That felt like progress.

Gojo’s name faded into the background of the castle, mentioned only in whispers. The cell he occupied stayed locked. Empty, most days. No one talked about how the key had gone missing.

You didn’t ask.

Geto was never seen again. Some said he vanished over the mountains. Others said he drowned. You knew better than to assume anything with him.

Yuuji still came by the palace every week, usually tracking in mud or snow or some combination of both, and the snowman—rebuilt, reshaped, reimagined—never strayed far from his side. He talked to it like it answered. You never asked if it did.

Nanami asked you once, what you planned to do now that peace had returned.

You said you weren’t sure. That you might stay. That you might leave.

But you knew the truth before the words even finished forming.

Because Toji was waiting at the garden wall, arms folded, sun cutting across the sharp line of his jaw, looking at you like he always did—like you were something steady. Something real.

You walked down the steps without hurrying.

He met you halfway.

“I’m supposed to be meeting with a trade envoy,” you said.

Toji hummed. “You’re late.”

“I was busy being important.”

“Mm.” His mouth tilted in a smirk. “Wanna be less important for a while?”

You stepped into his arms like you’d done it a hundred times before. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I was hoping you’d ask.”

He kissed you there, beneath the arching vines and bloom-heavy branches, with the whole kingdom breathing easy for once. It was slow and certain. And when you leaned into him, fingers curling into the back of his coat, it felt like more than enough.

You stayed there until the light dipped lower, until the shadows stretched long across the courtyard and the sky turned gold behind the mountains.

Peace, it seemed, was a quiet thing.

But it was yours.

And this time, it was going to last.

Taglist: @zolass @edensrose @tamias-wrld @ilovesugurugeto69 @planetxella @mazettns @longlivegojo @midnight-138 @literallyrousseau @vimademedoitt @useless-n-clueless @flatl1n3 @hikaurbae @lexkou @razefxylorf @abrielletargaryen @coco-145 @eagleeyedbitch @deathofacupid @gayaristocrat @porcalinecunt @whatsaheartxx @thecringes2000 @sageofspades @g4vcat @itsrandompersonyall @blvdprn @blueemochii @sappychat @onyxxxxqq @axetivev @s1llygo0s3 @crazydirectioner2000-blog @thestarsallowed @honey-valentin3 @academiq @gaozorous-rex-blog @idkmissgurl @sa1ki-deactivated20250510 @sooniebby @seomn

#male reader #bottom male reader #x male reader #jjk x reader #jjk x male reader #x reader #gay #smut #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x male reader

1K notes · View notes

astonmartinii · 2 years ago

Text

peas in a pod | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!russell!reader

y/n and george russell may be twins, but they’re hardly two peas in a pod and oscar is just there for the ride

MASTERLIST | TIPS

yourusername

liked by georgerussell63, oscarpiastri and 602,344 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: are you alex’s appendix cause you make me wanna bust 😩

view all comments

user1: excuse me 😀

user2: sometimes i’m like yeah george and y/n are defo twins and then she says shit like this and i’m like they can’t be related

alexalbon: erm what is is ?

yourusername: gosh so other people can use your appendicitis for a seat but i can’t use it to appreciate my boyf - PC gone crazy

alexalbon: the only censorship you’ll need is when my foot is up your ass

yourusername: i’d love to see you try i’ll put you back in the hospital

alexalbon: you say that but when i woke up in hospital you were crying your eyes out begging me to never do that again 🤨

yourusername: i was CHANNELLING GEORGE OBVIOUSLY

oscarpiastri: she cried about it for a good week after alex dw she loves you really

yourusername: TURNCOAT say goodbye to your bedtime privileges

georgerussell63: okay we’ll stop right there, y/n is sorry for joking about your appendicitis alex, and y/n we will not be discussing extracurricular activities with oscar. thank you.

user3: what about the people who want to hear about the extracurriculars? and maybe want to … see them?

yourusername: @oscarpiastri how do you think mclaren would feel about an onlyfans?

oscarpiastri: i think it’ll be a hard no

yourusername: ugh boring

user4: y/n talking about an onlyfans whereas i don’t believe george has even seen a naked woman

oscarpiastri: i love you and your dumb fucking pick up lines

yourusername: what do you mean i’m literally the reincarnation of william shakespeare?

georgerussell63: more like e l james

yourusername: i knew it was you who stole my copy of 50 shades GIVE IT BACK

yourusername: anyhow … i love you too babe x

user5: every comment section we learn new y/n russell lore and it shocks me everytime

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 734,513 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: in this house i guess we celebrate hit tweets? happy one year anniversary to the alpine breakup

view all comments

user6: CAKE SCARED ME FOR A SEC I WON'T LIE

yourusername: i think the technical term is “stunting on these hoes”

oscarpiastri: for pr reasons i will not be agreeing

yourusername: @ otmar HE BROKE I’M UP

oscarpiastri: you’re going to get me into even more trouble than that tweet did

yourusername: blame me and tell them to meet me in the car park, no weapons just fists

oscarpiastri: maybe let’s not

yourusername: you don’t wanna be my sexy ring girl? :(

georgerussell63: one day of not threatening people is all i ask for

yourusername: you weren’t saying that when i beat that year 13 guy’s ass in year ten for picking on you 🤨

georgerussell63: well yes but needs must

oscarpiastri: sorry george i’m siding with y/n she’s not afraid to tell the waiter they got my order wrong

landonorris: and she can square up to the people who won’t leave us alone in clubs

georgerussell63: okay i get it damn

yourusername: SMASH

alexalbon: you can’t let anything be normal can you?

yourusername: since you wanna be in my business… lily is a smash too

alexalbon: excuse me?

yourusername: let it be known if i weren’t already with the love of my life, id steal your girl

lilymunhe: oh wow … umm ☺️😳

alexalbon: OSCAR DO SOMETHING

oscarpiastri: idk bro im focusing on being called the love of y/n’s life

user7: silly season was so boring this year thank the lord we have y/n to cause chaos

georgerussell63: do not encourage her

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri and 823,410 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: you think i look bad, you should see the other girl. don’t touch men without their consent - and definitely don’t touch my man or you will be dealt with. trust.

view all comments

user8: someone leaked the video and omg that girl has hands

user9: she did NAWT hold back omg

oscarpiastri: i love you, thank you for defending my honour

yourusername: i love you too, i’d protect you with my life but don’t get it twisted, i’d throw hands for anyone

oscarpiastri: no but for real i’m very thankful for you standing up for me

user10: why is everyone praising this? all this shows me is that piastri is a pussy that needs his gross girlfriend to stand up for him?

yourusername: i’m going to stop you right there. that girl thought she could touch a man without his consent, and it’s completely out of order. so she was handed the consequences. oscar couldn’t do anything so it fell into my hands. you are the problem, do not talk down to him or other victims in those situations.

georgerussell63: as much as i joke, im glad you and oscar have each other.

yourusername: thank you georgie

oscarpiastri: thanks george, but your sister is the real knight in shining armour here

yourusername: i'll always save you princess 👸

alexalbon: everyone is being very sentimental but YO I KNEW YOU SAID YOU HAD HANDS BUT DAMN

user11: alex spill how brutal was it?

alexalbon: i had a front seat and it was like prime anthony joshua she was NOT playing

yourusername: oh wow that’s a big statement

alexalbon: i don’t wanna sound unprofessional but it was honestly crazy and i am so impressed y/n should really consider combat sports

yourusername: in my defence she just fully turned in on my fist

georgerussell63: okay normal service resumed she's making fun of me again :(

user12: why are we celebrating violence?

user13: people have no respect for the drivers these days, just because you’re in the same club as them does not mean that you’re entitled to harass them ??? you fuck around you’re going to find out… esp when y/n is around LOL

oscarpiastri

liked by georgerussell63, yourusername and 1,023,444 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: so a lot has happened. i don't want to give the girl any more attention. i love my girlfriend and i love how much she loves me. cry more.

view all comments

user14: OOP HE GAGGED THE HOES

georgerussell63: "cry more" y/n has clearly been rubbing off on you

yourusername: i can assure you i've done much more than just rub off on him

georgerussell63: NO NO STOP RIGHT THERE MISSY

oscarpiastri: to be fair you walked right into that one george

georgerussell63: introducing you two really is the stupidest thing i've ever done

oscarpiastri: first of all, arthur introduced us months before you "introduced us", second of all, this is a lot coming from the guy who cried to me about how i'm so great for your sister and can't wait to have me as a brother-in-law

yourusername: AWWW GEORGIE YOU SOFTIE

georgerussell63: yes i am soft. i love love. sue me gosh.

user15: they are so aesthetically pleasing to my eyes

landonorris: so does like y/n wanna give self defence classes?

yourusername: for a price, soz nothing comes for free in this economy

danielricciardo: please can you do classes? i wanna harness your rabid chihuahua energy

yourusername: i am NOT. a chihuahua take that back daniel

oscarpiastri: she's more like a kangaroo, cute but will steal your dog and beat your ass

yourusername: true, i just wanna put you in my pouch

yourusername: that sounds weird, but i just wanna hold you and never let go

danielricciardo: okay i was just messing around no need to be disgustingly cute

logansargeant: i'm glad you're both okay, but that room service debrief went so hard

oscarpiastri: honestly if i weren't holding an ice pack to my girlfriend's face it would've been top two

yourusername: eh i think it's still top two, nothing is unseating when we were next door to lando shagging and we made it a drinking game 😭

landonorris: WHAT ????

oscarpiastri: no comment

logansargeant: no comment

yourusername: it was drink every time you moaned impressively loud 👍

landonorris: no comment

alexalbon

liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername and 822,304 others

tagged: yourusername, oscarpiastri, lilymunhe

alexalbon: idc you can never get me to hate her ass if you poke the bear expect to get bitten

view all comments

user16: sorry to the galex truthers but y/n and alex are the superior friendship

yourusername: i knew you loved me + and i knew you loved oscar SEND ME THE LAST PIC NEW LOCKSCREEN INCOMING

alexalbon: i've been the personal photographer for both russells for years and i'm only just being appreciated

yourusername: HOLD ON i take just as many of you and lily

alexalbon: well that's easier because we're much easier to photograph

oscarpiastri: WOAH hold your horses pal, call me ugly all you want but one shall not dishonour y/n

alexalbon: okay someone spent the break at the russell house

yourusername: HE'S NOT UGLY YOU POOL NOODLE TAKE IT BACK

alexalbon: damn it's a tough crowd. and on a post literally appreciating you

yourusername: bare minimum

user17: okay the kardashians are over - netflix can we please get a drive to survive spin off about y/n, george, oscar and alex ????

landonorris: lando norris erasure

charles_leclerc: charles leclerc erasure

oscarpiastri: move over twitch quartet, there's a new sheriff in town

landonorris: okay i'm banning y/n from mclaren you've spent too much time with her and now a rookie is bullying me :(

yourusername: he ate you up... i'm so proud

landonorris: is this the environment the russells promote? @georgerussell63

georgerussell63: you're on your own on this one lando i gave up years ago

yourusername: @oscarpiastri i think that's called maximising our joint slay

oscarpiastri: they wish they were us for real

user18: i love watching a black cat gf slowly corrupt her golden retriever bf

yourusername: oscar is like an evil little kitten really

oscarpiastri: and you love it

note: quick one cause i'm in my feelings. enjoy this random oscar cuteness he is an aussie queen (also a friend of mine literally went to the same school as him it's so weird)

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #oscar piastri instagram au #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader

5K notes · View notes

just-some-random-blogger · 6 months ago

Text

Sweets & Sweeties

You opened a bakeshop called Sweets & Sweeties which was just beside Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and one day you accidentally lock yourself outside.

George Weasley x Reader (x Fred Weasley) | 1k+ | cw: fem!reader, Murphy's law, fred lives stfu, fluff, rizzler!Georgie, typos, etc.

A/N: i have this fic called tormented spirit and its fucked me up cos of how sad it is HAHAHAH i need a break and thats coming from someone who LOVES angst. ALSO i was never super into Harry Potter so idk lore™ but I've been watching the phelps twins and their baking show related content and i'm just so endeared by them AHHHHHHHHH. please leave comments/reblogs because this feels a bit mid cos i havent written fluff in 100 years T_T cross posted on ao3 | continuation fic

@pendragora if i have to suffer, you have to suffer

Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was always busy. Everyday, there were children and children-at-heart going up and down the block, eager to buy themselves trinket or treat to promptly cause mischief.

Because of the shop's success, your own shop also benefitted from it. Sweets & Sweeties was your dream come true. As a child, you loved sweet treats, and you would grow to learn you loved making them just as much.

You hadn't expected to sell out as often as you did, and you knew it was all thanks to the fact the establishment next door brought as many customers as they did, who then became your customers.

You were extremely grateful, and tried time and time again to show it through a simple gesture of a gift. It was rather hard to find the time to do so however, as the neighbor establishment was constantly packed. The first time you saw the owner of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, he had introduced himself as: "George Weasley," he says, dusting off his hands before reaching one out for you.

You merely stare at him, your smile flattening slightly, only to grow wider as you chuckle. Both of your hands held a tray of cake, and it was quite a weighty cake at that, "I-"

"Right," he brushes his hands on his trousers, "right. Sorry, let me help you with that."

He takes the cake from you and ushers you deeper into the store. You gasp when a small child runs across him, unfortunately bumping into his side. Thankfully, George manages to lift the cake, evading the collision. The girl who bumped into him looks up, eyes wide, hands clutched, looking rather guilty, "s-sorry, Mr. Weasley."

The tall man's brows furrow as he looks down. He whines, "s'not Mr. Weasley, it's George."

The girl stares at him for a moment.

"Say it with me: George."

She clutches her chest and mutters, "Georgie?"

George purses his lips together in a soft smile and nods, "Georgie it is then."

Your hand comes to your mouth as you chuckle and follow after the red haired man. He leads you into the back office and you gasp yet again, this time, because of the photograph on the wall. It was a family portrait of a myriad of other red heads breaking into a wide grin.

"There's two of you!" you point.

George sets the cake down on his desk and crosses his arms once he's besides you, "nah. There's only one person in the family as good looking as me," he turns to the photograph, "that's my twin brother, Fred."

"Oh," you turn to him, taken off guard by how close he was, "is..." you casually take a step back, "he around?"

"Yeah," he shrugs, "probably showing the customers how to use the thingamabobs."

You chuckle and nod, "well," you motion vaguely, "I know you're very busy, so I won't take any more of your time."

The man tilts his head, lips curled into an soft grin as he shrugs, "you don't hear me complaining, love."

You aimlessly look off to steel away the giggle that threatened to leave your lips, "right," you clear your throat, "ehhh, do tell me if the cake is to you—"

Before you can even finish your thought, George is back at his desk. He swipes a dollop of frosting and tastes it.

"—r... liking."

He raises his brows as he nods, "it's to my liking."

The both of you just stand there for a moment, staring at each other. You're now rather painfully aware of your breathing.

You start when the office door bangs open and a near exact replica of George comes walking in, "you would not believe what just—"

George's eyes are on you as you turn to his twin. You raise your hand, "hi... I'm-" you point to nowhere, "-the baker next door."

He turns to George, then back to you, reaching out his left hand, "Fred Weasley."

You smile and shake his hand, speaking your name in return.

"Hey!" George walks over, reaching out a hand, "I didn't get a handshake!"

You turn to George and his outstretched left hand, about to shake it, but Fred does not release you, and only turns to his twin.

"Fred-"

"I'm not done."

George watches Fred shake your hand, "well that's more than enough."

"Not really," Fred shrugs.

You chuckle softly, making them turn to you. You then offer your other hand to George, crossing your arm over the other, "here."

George looks at it and takes it with his right one. The three of your shake each other's hands for a questionably long time.

When you're finally released, you hold back a laugh and rub your palms on the side of your hips, "right... it was a pleasure to meet you both."

They nod in sync, "the pleasure is ours."

You giggle and raise a hand in regard, "come by my shop sometimes."

They wave back at you as you head for the door.

"I'll make you both a cuppa."

They smile as you exit their office. Once you were gone, the brothers instantly turn to each other.

Fred says, "she's cute."

"Yeah, I saw her first," George counters.

"Pfft, so what?"

"So, everything."

Meeting them was so... notable, that you thought about it the entire day. You found yourself giggling about the handshake for the nth time as you closed up, and right after you heard the door click, you whip your head back in realization that you'd left your bag in the counter, along with your keys.

You shake the doorknob, trying to will the door open, though you knew it was pointless, "no, no, no, NO!"

You step back and stare at the windows of your shop. You ruffle your hair and huff as you debate how bad the idea of breaking the glass with the rock would be.

You stare that your sign that read Sweets & Sweeties, feeling taunted by it so suddenly, and then you remember you forgot another thing. The window on the rooftop was surely open from when you opened it to let out some steam. What's more, it looked like it was about to rain!

"Oh," you groan and wrap your arms around yourself, "thank goodness I left my brolly too."

You crouch in front of your unlit shop, feeling rather helpless.

You hear a bell ring and turn to the shop next door. Out comes George and Fred, much wiser than you, with their brollies and suitcases in hand. They call your name in unison and you sigh as you come to stand.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" one of them says.

You freeze at the pet name, and he seems to catch on. He points upward, "sweetie."

You turn to your sign and feel bashful. You awkwardly chuckle, "right, I-"

"You alright?" another asks.

You look between them, "yeah," and shake your head, "no, ehhh, sorry... I... which is," you point in confusion, "which?"

"George," the one to your right raises a hand.

"Fred," the one to your left raises a hand.

"Right," you lower your head as you shake it, "sorry, I don't-"

"You'll get used to it," they say in unison.

You huff as you look back at them, both of their lips are pursed, "right..." you turn to your shop and point, "I, eh... locked myself out."

They turn to where you did.

"And I left my bag..."

They turn back to you.

"And my keys."

They make a face.

"And my brolly," you turn to you feet for a moment, "and the window in my roof open."

"Oooh," they say at once. George bares his teeth, "bad luck."

"And," Fred adds, looking up, "it looks like it's about to rain."

"I know!" you gasp, placing your hands on both sides of your head.

For a moment, the three of you stand there, soaking in your misfortune. A moment later, George turns to his brother and says, "hang on."

Fred turns to him.

"Don't we have a window in the roof, Fred?"

Fred turns to you, "that we do, George."

George turns to you too, "how are you with heights?"

"Ehhh..." your lips part, "....fine?"

With that, the twins head to the entrance of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, beckoning you over. They reopen the lights, leave their things by the door, and lead you upstairs.

"Now," George (you think) says, "I'd like to think our roof's pretty sturdy, but," he pulls out wand from his coat jacket, "I can always do a good ol' Levioso if anything goes awry."

You are comforted by the thought and nod as you make your way up. When you get to the top, you see a singular tiny window by the side of the roof and you momentarily wonder if this was a good idea.

"D'ya know what," George (you think) says, turning to his brother, "you should go down and watch her as she crosses, so in case anything happens," he points, "you can make sure she doesn't fall."

Fred (you think) shakes his head, "why me?"

"Because it was my idea to cast Levioso, Fred," George (you were right) retorts.

"Then you go down!" Fred whines.

"I'm not going down," he crosses his arms, "I just got here."

"Yeah, so did I—"

"SCISSORS, PAPER, ROCK!"

You watch to the instant match the twins have, finding one rock and scissors at hand. George grins, raising his winning fist. Fred rolls his eyes and sighs. He turns to you before going down.

George smiles and motions with his head, "come on then, I'll help you up."

He drags a box towards the window and reaches a hand out to you. You take his hand and step up, then reach for the sides of the window, pulling yourself up to get on the roof. You are glad their window was right in front of yours and that it wasn't a far walk at all.

Fred, who just got outside, catches his breath before cupping the sides of his mouth, "careful!"

You turn to him from below and call back, "trying!"

George watches you closely as you cross to the other side. He probably shouldn't think the wobble of your limbs endearing, but he does. The moment reach your window, he claps, "aye!"

You are quick to jump down, grunting as you do so. You turn around and smile at George who was already smiling back at you. He raises his hands, "you did it, sweetie!"

"I did, wheezing wizard!"

"Well," he tilts his head, "it's Wizard Wheezes but..." he shrugs, "you can just call me Georgie."

You raise your brows.

"I- I mean George."

You chuckle and purse your lips as you shake your head, "too late, Georgie."

"Now, hold on-"

"See you downstairs, Georgie!" you give a toothy grin as you close your window. You bite your lip and giggle to yourself for a moment, "cutie."

Georgie clenches his jaw as he stares the window. He sighs and kicks the box away before closing it, "damn."

711 notes · View notes

satoruxx · 9 months ago

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THE SPACE BETWEEN COMFORT AND CHAOS.

✧ PAIRING: wolf!toji fushiguro x f!reader | 4.3k words

✧ SUMMARY: wolfhybrid!toji, hybrid au, flashback centric, grumpy x sunshine, animalistic behavior, mentions of injuries, violence, societal inequality, arguments, hateful speech towards hybrids, dysfunctional families, and a shit ton of angst and anger, lil fluff at the end !!

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: hiii it's my birthday this weekend so i'm dropping chapter 4 as a quick thank you for all the support !! i love you all so much <33 this one is very toji centric and gives a lot of his past and lore to explain why he is the way he is and what led him to find reader !! there is a lot of inequality in this chapter so keep that in mind as you proceed. as always i would recommend checking out the previous parts before reading this :33

prev. | series masterlist.

the smell of blood makes toji's eyes crack open. it fills his nostrils, heavy and metallic, and it makes his hair stand on end. despite being so used to that scent, it still makes him uneasy, because sometimes he cannot tell whose blood it is.

once his eyes adjust to the dim lighting, he can't fall back asleep, though he knows he still needs rest. a series of cracks echo from his joints as he sits up, pulses of fatigue swimming through his muscles. pushing up from the ground, he casually approaches the metal bars of his cell.

his cage.

his nose twitches, the smell of blood stronger now that he's closer. a loud yawn rips from his throat, eyes catching some guards dragging another hybrid who had fought that day. he watches them throw the unconscious animal into his cell, not sparing another glance as they turn away. the sounds of their boots gets on toji's nerves, but he does not even have enough time to pity the poor creature.

another set of guards approach his cell. he's sure that they might once again tell him off for being too aggressive, or for not following orders, or for another whipping, but he's saved this time because they're just escorting a hybrid.

a familiar hybrid.

"what's wrong?" toji drawls, lips tugging into a casual smirk. "did y'lose?"

the tiger hybrid hisses angrily in return, as though personally offended, and bares his teeth. his striped ears starkly contrast his pinkish hair.

"like hell," sukuna answers proudly.

toji is about to comment on the various bloodied scratches littering sukuna's body, but one of the guards roughly shoves the tiger into his cell.

"get in!"

sukuna turns to pin him with a murderous glare, tone even and chilling. "touch me again and i'll kill you."

the guard scoffs, unbothered, before shutting the barred door behind him. sukuna's anger rises, but he does not say anything else, choosing to stare daggers at them until they've disappeared around the corner. toji understands the feeling. it would be a piece of cake to rip their throats out, especially for predators as vicious as wolves and tigers.

but they can't. one scratch on a human and they'd be put down.

a beat of silence passes. toji is sure the hybrid sitting across the hall is also thinking about the same thing, so used to biting his tongue just to stay alive.

(he remembers the first day sukuna got thrown in, hisses and snapping teeth as he cursed the guards with all sorts of creativity. toji had been underground long enough to see the same spectacle over and over again, and so he hadn't really given a damn at that time. the two passed weeks in silence, purely focused on their own individual fights and then immediately falling asleep once back in their respective cells.

toji was no expert at reading people, but he could tell that the tiger was as stubborn as he was—they refused to acknowledge one another.

and when they were finally pitted against each other, it was a messy fight. toji still remembers the way the crowd had roared at their aggressive attacks, every draw of blood eliciting some sick twisted pleasure within them.

toji had been used to putting in the bare minimum during his fights, finding it relatively easy to win against other predators. but that fight against sukuna was the first time he struggled a little bit.

the tiger will never admit it, but the feeling was definitely mutual.

so after the brawl, when they were both quietly sitting in their cages and hissing at their wounds stubbornly, there was a brief moment of acknowledgement.

"where the hell did you learn how to fight like that?" the tiger had eyed toji warily, thick brows furrowed in a way that made him look extra grumpy.

after that, it seemed that there was a mutual sense of respect between the two of them. they are not friends per se, definitely not. both toji and sukuna know that if it came down to it, they would kill the other in the arena if it meant staying alive.

but there was an understanding that they were both on the same level. and it seemed that those who ran the fights understood that too.

after all, fights between the two of them were always a very popular spectacle.)

even now, sukuna doesn't look at toji, too busy muttering a string of insults aimed at the guard from earlier. toji ignores them, used to it. they remain in that same silence, not uncomfortable, but not really comfortable either.

toji takes a seat, crossing his legs and leaning against the cold bars. he can still hear the sounds of the guards footsteps echoing through the halls, and that just makes him crave freedom—another familiar feeling.

he should be used to it by now. craving what he cannot have.

sukuna seems to know what he's thinking, because he scoffs with a dramatic roll of his eyes. "don't start."

"you don't ever think about running?" toji ponders, dragging his claws across the stone floor. the tiger's ears twitch, sensitive to the sound, and he throws toji a scathing scowl.

"run? where the hell would we go?" the tiger grumbles, crossing his bulky arms. "you know they'll just find us again. it's pointless."

"but it's happened before," toji insists, scratching behind his ear absentmindedly. there have always been whispers floating through the compound, of hybrids with guts of steel that took it upon themselves to make a run for it. though several were caught and devastatingly punished, there were those who they never saw again. the idea that they must be somewhere where light shines and wind blows is strangely comforting.

"yeah rarely," the tiger snorts in return. a quiet hiss of displeasure escapes his lips as he notices the claw marks running up his arm, and he carefully begins licking at his wounds. "most of the time those fools get caught. and then they get punished."

toji shrugs noncommittally, leaning his head against the bars. "worth the risk."

sukuna curiously peers at him from over his injured arm, heavy brows furrowed. "you really think it's that much better up there?"

"anywhere's better than in here." toji says it resolutely, and sukuna, normally so snippy, says nothing to rebuke him.

before the conversation can continue, toji's nostrils fill with a familiar scent—cigarettes, ironed clothes, faint whiskey. he suppresses a roll of his eyes.

"look who it is." he sarcastically cranes his neck, watching as shiu kong approaches his cell with a nonchalant smile.

"you sure do look relaxed for someone who just had me do a shit ton of paperwork." shiu leans against the wall, eyeing toji through the cell. toji does not like that he has to look up to meet his gaze, so he gets to his feet and casually crosses his arms.

"what the fuck did i do?"

"lots of people enjoyed your fight yesterday. with the polar bear?" shiu pulls out a cigarette, and toji's nose crinkles. "you've got an increase in bets, y'know?"

"who cares?" toji mutters, pushing away from the bars to pace around his cell.

it's not like any of the hybrids get that money.

"i do," shiu chuckles, cigarette balanced between his lips. "you're helping me get paid."

"lucky you," toji sarcastically shoots back. shiu snorts in amusement, crossing his arms.

"anyways, i'm thinking this is a good time to host a big fight for you. the timing is good." toji's "manager" (if that's what you can call him) eyes the wolf as he exhales a puff of smoke. toji's eyes narrow in return, a feeling of anticipation and mild irritation crawling up his skin.

"so you two—" shiu nods his head towards the wolf and the grumpy tiger sitting across the hall. "—prepare for a show, alright?"

sukuna curses colorfully, and toji rolls his eyes. "relax. i'm not giddy to fight you either, asshole."

"yeah because you'll lose," the tiger hisses, baring his teeth.

"oh yeah? that's not what happened last time." toji grins wolfishly, watching sukuna's anger rise.

"because you fucking cheated!"

"aw, little cat can't handle a few bites?" toji's amusement becomes more palpable, enjoying the argument—a very common occurrence for the two of them. "that's why dogs are better."

"i'll kill you," sukuna utters ominously, his striped tail puffed and curling in an aggressively defensive display.

"try it," toji smirks back.

"alright easy boys," shiu chuckles, shaking his head in mild exasperation. "save that energy for the actual fight. people eat that shit up."

"and somehow we're the animals," sukuna grumbles, deciding he's done with the conversation as he heads over to the corner of his cell and curls up on the ground.

"well yeah," shiu shrugs, unfazed. "you should be used to that by now."

they are.

"anyway i figured i'd let you know." the older man turns to face toji. "i know most of the fights are pretty easy for you. but since you both are top tier fighters, prepare how you need to."

"it's not like we've never fought before," toji replies dryly, ears twitching. "i know how it goes down."

"well okay." shiu adjusts his suit jacket, shoving his hands into his pockets.

from the corner of his eye, toji can see sukuna listening in, face impassive.

"you two give me a good show, alright?" shiu casually waves over his shoulder, before heading off back in the direction he came.

"whatever," sukuna grunts, turning on his side. toji watches the tiger's tail lazily flick—side to side. "i hate dogs."

toji lets out a dry chuckle. "well i'm not the biggest fan of cats either, asshole."

again, they aren't friends, but the bleakness of their situation makes it easier to tolerate one another.

a week later, they both face off in the area as promised. shiu claps toji on the back before he heads in, a gesture that makes the wolf's skin prickle, but he brushes it off. he could have someone worse be in charge of him, but shiu is a bit easier to get along with than most of the humans down there. though toji isn't naive—the only reason shiu is so casually cheery around him is because toji is his biggest moneymaker.

that's what it all came down to.

sukuna and toji have both fought enough times to know how to play to the crowd's wishes. they bark and snarl at each other like they are truly wild, claws and teeth and blood everywhere because they know that's what gets the humans going.

that's what gets them to open their wallets at least.

sukuna takes the victory this time around, which is not inherently unusual—they both have a fairly even split of victories and losses. they play up their enmity, and everyone goes wild.

even though hybrids are the shackled ones, somehow these humans remind toji of puppets—so easily manipulated.

the two of them stand and rile up the crowd at the end, acting like they truly are nothing but feral animals who know only to growl and snap at each other. as soon as they hear the sounds of money being exchanged and the roar of conversation they are escorted back to their cells.

toji's ears ring with the sounds of groans and cheers, the same familiar words grating his ears.

"i told you sukuna would win this one!"

"yeah but i said toji would draw first blood, so pay up!"

imbeciles. savages. nothing humane about them.

in their cells, both of them do their best to clean up their wounds. but a fight this aggressive usually results in equally rough damage.

"i think you fractured my rib or something," toji grunts, wincing as he sits down. sukuna throws him an unimpressed look through the bars of his cage.

"not my fault you're weak."

toji's middle finger flies up automatically, and sukuna's lips pull up to one side. "ask them for medical if it's that bad."

"yeah right," toji snorts, licking away the blood that has been dripping from the corner of his mouth. "like they'll listen."

it's more of a curse that hybrids have a better pain tolerance than humans. the medics here never take their injuries seriously for that exact reason.

no instead, they are expected to clean up as they can and prepare for the next fight, letting their body heal as well as possible. humans have always been so hypocritical.

they both relax in a welcome silence. toji suddenly realizes how tired he is, jade eyes straining as he attempts to fix himself up. he knows the rules—damaged merchandise is treated as such.

his ears pick up the faint sound of footsteps approaching, and he realizes that it's probably shiu coming over to update them about the earnings of their fights.

but he is entirely surprised.

"wow, you're definitely a sight."

toji's eyes narrow, teeth gritting. his mood plummets, ears straightening and tail going rigid. the sound of that voice makes every bit of hatred in toji's body come bubbling to the surface. he glares over his shoulder, spitting out each word with extreme difficulty. "what the fuck do you want?"

naoya zenin looks down his nose at the wolf, a greasy smile on his face. naobito zenin stands just behind him, arms crossed with a barely visible look of disgust on his face.

toji's cousin conveniently ignores the accusatory question, peering around the cells and hallway with feigned interest. "these conditions are terrible!"

he finally pins toji with his gaze, an evil smile pulling at his lips. "well, that's to be expected for animals."

"what the fuck do you want?!" toji growls, claws digging into the ground. naoya's eyes light up at the anger, knowing full well that those claws can never come anywhere near him.

"temper! temper!" the blonde gasps, tutting at toji like he's nothing more than a child. "haven't you learned how to control yourself by now?"

"let me out of this cell and i'll show you just how much control i have." the wolf's voice is no more than a rumble, dark and ominous because there is nothing in the world that toji hates more than his own family.

naoya shakes his head, feigning a look of disappointment. "so violent. it's a good thing we put you in here. who knows how dangerous you could've been to us."

the words hit their mark, a jab of self-hatred. toji's green eyes flit over to his uncle, sharp and accusatory.

the one who ratted him out to this godforsaken place.

toji knows when normal families have a predator hybrid born into their home, they lie and cheat and hide them away from this life—too desperate to keep their child away from such danger. after all, it's not the child's fault they were born a predator.

but not toji's family. not the zenins, who took one look at him and waited for the second he turned 18 before hauling him off.

nothing but a bunch of rats.

he knows that he was worth a lot of money. a healthy and fit wolf hybrid, broader and stronger than most of his own species. and of course, his family was quick to sell him off, glad to be rid of this curse on their family—the only shame.

toji had grown up knowing he was hated, but he never thought a family could do something so horrible to one of their own. he stopped seeing the best in people after that.

"you brought this on yourself," his uncle states now, emotionless. his opinion on hybrids has not changed one bit, and yet he shamelessly comes to the compound to collect a portion of the winnings that toji earns. "born with tainted blood."

"you're acting like it's my fucking fault, old man," toji spits out, hackles raised. he wants them to leave, because all he feels when looking at them is nausea.

"it's your damn mother's fault. couldn't keep away from my brother. she ruined him," naobito's emotionless voice takes on a tone of hatred, and toji tenses. "filthy dog whore."

toji's reaction is instantaneous. he's at the bars in a second, teeth bared and spewing curses as he makes a mad grab for either of them. he doesn't care—all he wants to do is tear them to shreds. toji can feel his wounds open further, can feel blood dripping over his skin, but all that seems miniscule when they are in front of him.

the cause of every single misfortune he has ever had.

naoya hops out of the way, laughing—it is a mocking, grating laugh that echoes throughout the hall as he watches toji desperately struggle. "see see! this is why you're dangerous!"

naobito shakes his head, as though he's thoroughly disappointed, but he does not say anything else.

"anyways, well done today!" naoya continues, grinning as he crosses his arms. "you earned a lot of money for us."

toji glares at him, dropping his arm and taking a step back. somehow, being further in his cell is much more comforting than being in their line of sight. he keeps his lips tightly shut.

naoya's voice turns taunting as naobito heads off without another word. "such a shame my dear cousin wasn't born normal like the rest of us." he follows his father without a care in the world, knowing how well his words sting. "had to be born an animal freak."

the hallways is empty. toji takes a few steadying breaths, pushing the anger away because he knows that there is truly no point in keeping it. it's not like this anger has done him any good. maybe if he had gotten angry earlier, he would have zenin blood on his hands—the thought gives him a sick sense of satisfaction.

"your family fucking sucks…" sukuna pipes up from across the hall. toji scoffs out a laugh, but it is far from amused. he turns away.

suddenly the blood on his hands makes him feel disgusting—so much more animalistic than human.

"tell me about it," he mutters, back turned. his ears pick up the sounds of sukuna curling up in his corner, and in a few minutes, quiet rumbling snores follow.

toji sighs, approaching his sink and staring at the cracked mirror he's grown used to seeing himself in. he takes in his reflection, disgust rolling in his stomach.

he thinks he'd probably be considered decently attractive if he was a regular old human. but the dark furry ears, the sharp canines, and all the scars ruin him. adding his haggard clothing and feral eyes and all the blood and dirt on him, he can understand why he is considered so untouchable.

an animal in every right.

he turns the sink on. he is briefly reminded of another time, a time where he lived in a family house and slept in a futon that was warmer than anything he's ever slept in. he can remember wearing things other than rags, occasionally a yukata and other times a t-shirt. he can remember eating a home cooked meal and drinking sake and feeling sunlight on his skin.

and yet even in those better times, he has always had to hear the words of his family cursing his existence. cursing his mother's name for seducing his father and ruining their bloodline with her animal blood.

the only dark stain on the pristine zenin family.

toji sighs, scrubbing the blood from under his claws—like clockwork. the water in the sink turns a mocking shade of pink, and as horrible as it is to say, toji is glad the blood is not his.

he wipes his paws across his ragged clothes, and stares at himself in the mirror.

he isn't ashamed to admit it—but he hates what he sees.

naoya's laughter rings in his ears as he shuts his eyes.

"hey toji?"

his eyes snap open. when the haze clears he sees your features come into focus, soft and curious. your scent floods his nose, and a pleasant shiver runs up his skin. there is a quick sense of relief when he realizes that he had been dreaming of a time in the past, and he steels himself, expression indifferent as he sits up. he briefly recognizes the stark contrast between the hardness of the stone floor in his cell and the softness of your couch—his tongue sits heavy in his mouth.

"what?" he grunts, rubbing at his eyes. he tries to throw you a mock irritated glance, but either it comes off too mild or you've become good at ignoring it. "when'd you get here?"

"a few minutes ago. i got takeout." your lips pull into a teasing smile. "unless you'd rather go back to sleep?"

he pins you with a scathing glare, and annoyingly enough, your smile becomes wider. he stands up, popping his joints and following you to your kitchen table, before diligently taking a seat—in his chair.

toji silently watches you bustle around, grabbing utensils and plates to evenly distribute the food. his stomach growls eagerly, and he realizes just how hungry he is—he recognizes that his body is getting used to being fed so often, and he does not know how to feel about that.

toji's eyes zero in on silly details, not knowing why he does it. your hair is a little messy, not as neat as when you left for work that morning. you've taken off your jacket, the absence of the restrictive fabric making your movements easier. he thinks you've probably had a good day, because your expression, though fatigued, is still relaxed—a small, almost miniscule smile remains on your face.

there a strange satisfaction the settles in his chest when he notices that. he doesn't know why, but the idea that you've had a nice day rather than a difficult one puts him at ease.

"how was your day?" you speak up, briefly making eye contact with him.

(toji does not understand why the small contact makes his stomach flip.)

he grunts, nonchalant. "not bad. didn't do much."

"the injuries are good?"

toji rolls his eyes, dropping his chin into his palm as he pins you with an intrusive stare. "yeah yeah. you ask this every day."

"well it can be good one day and not good the next," you reply defensively, frowning at the chicken you're currently dropping into his plate. but you look satisfied to hear his answer.

toji chuckles mutely. "sure kid."

(the nickname came randomly. you never commented on it. he didn't either.)

he hesitates for a second, before clearing his throat. "how was yours?"

you glance up at him, too quick for him to analyze the expression, but he thinks he catches a faint trace of pleasant surprise. "it was good. boring but not bad at all."

he nods awkwardly—the internal satisfaction grows stronger. his stomach rumbles again as you walk over and place his plate in front of him, and the smell hits his nose immediately—his hunger is all consuming.

(your scent is one of the few human scents he has truly found pleasant.)

and yet he finds himself patiently waiting until you plate your own food, sitting across him quietly. he presses his hands together, bowing his head as he mutters a quiet "thank you for the food" before tucking in.

(he does not say your name, but he thinks he is thanking you—his own twisted version of a god.)

he stays quiet for most of the meal, focusing on the unique and savory taste of the food. months ago he would not have imagined being able to consume such delicacy, but all you have done since you walked into his life is show him that he can have much more than he ever dreamed he could.

you blabber about random things as you eat, telling him about something you saw or what you did throughout the day. he listens.

you're in the middle of updating him about some stupid work drama, which, as embarrassing as it is to say, toji has been looking forward to hearing about. he does not interrupt you, trying to rack his brain for all the details you've spilled the last time.

(it's pathetic how quick he finds them. something about listening to you talk that makes everything else seem useless in comparison.)

"so anyways her husband found out and got mad. but then she basically tried to deny it and said that he was accusing her of nothing." you shove a mouthful of rice into your mouth, rolling your eyes. your tongue flicks out to lick at your lips—toji's eyes shamefully trace the movement. "it's a whole thing now because obviously the dude she was having the affair with works with us too."

"what a bitch," toji answers. your eyes crinkle with amusement, eager to hear him participating. you've probably since realized that he does find your gossip interesting. but it's more than that—he does not know why it's so easy to talk to you.

"right? i hate cheaters," you mutter, stabbing at your chicken.

he does too. something about being a dog that makes loyalty so damn important to him.

(maybe that's why he feels physically ill when he thinks about leaving your side.)

you continue rambling about your cheating coworker with a newfound conviction. toji listens, occasionally dropping a dry remark, and you either laugh or nod emphatically. his lips quirk upward at every reaction. he continues eating his food—slowly so that he can match your pace. which is odd, because he was so damn hungry before.

but even as he quietly chews on the flavored meat, he finds that satiety comes a lot quicker when he quietly listens to you talk.

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if your name is here but you didn’t get tagged, it’s either bc your blog is new/blank/empty or you need to check your privacy settings !!

836 notes · View notes

a-rottenegg · 8 months ago

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Featuring not-yet Saint Vanilla Cookie from @cuppajj 's Beast Ancient AU. THEIR AU IS SO SCRUMPTIOUS AHHH I LOVE IT SM

... Can you tell Pure Vanilla Cookie is my favorite.

(He's my favorite.)

Bro I started playing CRK like a week ago and I'm OBSESSED? Lore goes crazy (love how the cake hound crown situation was just... forgotten LMAO).

Thank you for stumbling on this post! :) Literally created a tumblr account just to post this lol

#pure vanilla cookie #saint vanilla cookie #crk #crk au #beast ancients au #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #midnight lily cookie #dragonberry cookie #frigid cacao cookie #celestial cheese cookie

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pixelscutz · 6 months ago

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random jjk headcannons ₊˚✩

nanami - huge fan of doja cat

i’m not even sure why, but for some reason, the lyrics of her songs always turn him on. i mean come on? he can definitely relate to all of her lyrics,, wait actually no that sounds wrong. I hope yk what i mean.

itadori - loves being babied

although he wants to be a tough and protective guy in public, trust me, when you two are alone, he loves to lay in between your thighs and hear you sing sweet words to him. now that is the closest thing he has towards heaven.

megumi - secretly has a sweet tooth

“hell no, i’m not eating that sugary shit, do you think i’m trying to speedrun diabetes?”

and thennn you’ll find him secretly eating the leftover cake on his bed at 3am.

nobera- used to believe in ghost stories

tbh, she still believes in some of the ghost stories, i mean when she first found out about jeff the killer and momo she fell down a rabbit hole of worries and fears on what she would do if they randomly appeared one day. although she now knows they don’t exist, she can’t help but always take extra precautions

sukuna - loves being praised like he’s a toddler

I mean, we already think this guy’s ego is pretty big, but come on? “oh sukuna, you cleaned the kitchen? thank you love, you did such a good job!” he would be rolling his eyes, but secretly he’s jumping and screaming with joy

gojo - loves ariana grande & sabrina carpeter

gojo def understands how to treat a women,, i mean have you seen ari’s and sabrina’s lyrics? they teach him a lot about how to treat a woman, - heck he even studies them.

itadori + nobera - love to troll kids on roblox

i mean, although they do save people from monsters and supernaturals everyday,, beefing with a couple of kids online doesn’t do any harm..

megumi - huge fnaf kid

i know i can not be the only one who believes in this, i mean, the entire lore fanctinates him. if you ask him what fnaf is about, he will give you a deep breakdown from start to finish

megumi + gojo - thinks of gojo as a father figure but will never admit it

once megumi called gojo dad,, yeah and that’s when gojo found out what megumi thinks of him and will always tease him abt it

sukuna - has a extensive skincare and hair routine

i mean come on? have you ever wondered how his skin is always gleaming, and his hair is so silky? it’s obious this man loves to take care of himself but he will NEVER admit it

megumi + itadori - they secretly watch romance animes together

this is the definition of bromance, and they always love gushing over who’s their favorite ship, the annoying characters.. etc etc. so far,, fruit basket is their favorite !

part two soon ? :>

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joffyworld · 6 months ago

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AHHHHHHHHHH ONE SHOT ONE SHOT ONE SHOT ONE SHOT

Luck of the Lamb Side Story: Festival of New Life

During the spring festival celebrating the end of the winter, Narinder struggles to accept his new place in the cult as co-leader and reformed god.

We've been working on this one for a bit and finally got it wrapped up, I hope you like a cute little one-shot with some lore and relationship drama!

#OOOOOOO MANNNNN WE ARE EATING GOOD RECENTLY OMG #YOU TWO ARE JUST CREATING BANGER AFTER BANGER #MANNNNNNNN #I really gotta start learning from these #Lot to digest here and the writing is always so dann good #Could learn a lot from your writing style I think #Anyway #THANKS GEM AND CAKE OHHHHH MANNNNNNNNNN #GOOD FOOD AGAIN YIPPEEEEEEEEEE #GREAT ART #GREAT WRITING #GREAT LORE #GREAT GREATNESS #YIPPEEEEE

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samisverycool · 28 days ago

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Hello! I love your yandere prince, and I'm hoping you could maybe expand on it? I was wondering if you could write a scenario in which his maid plans out a special surprise, whether for a holiday or birthday, and his reaction to it. Either way, I love your page ❤️

thank you!! a lot of people like him, im considering turning him into an oc and giving him lore hehe...

࣪ ִֶָ☾. yandere prince . part three

➯ part one

➯ part two

the hardest part isn't the planning.

it's escaping.

every time you try to slip away, he grabs you and interrogates you frantically, as if you would disappear if you left for longer than a minute.

you've had to shove decorations underneath laundry, pass notes discreetly to chefs and scullery maids while the prince wasn't looking. but he always was. and it's near impossible to get the party done with him breathing down your neck all the time.

"my sweet, must you go? surely whatever you need to do isn't more important than your prince.." he'd call out, like a child scared of being abandoned. but fearing he might make you dislike him, he refrains from physically keeping you from leaving.

on the day of the surprise, you wake up early. it wasn't a huge party, you simply decorated the conservatory and brought the people he once said were 'tolerable'. you made one more trip to the conservatory to make sure everything was in place─ the candles, the cake, the flowers.

turning back towards your quarters, you flinch seeing the prince wandering the halls, presumably searching for you.

"my sweet, you weren't in your room! i thought something had happened.." he rushed to hold you, like he had to make sure you were real. he had gotten so paranoid lately because of how suspicious you were being.

"forgive me, my prince, i was just.. uh, taking a walk in the gardens" you lied, and he knew, but said nothing.

by dusk, you managed to lure him into the conservatory, where candles shone softly through the windows.

"happy birthday!!"

he steps into the candlelight.

and laughs.

it's breathy, unsteady, and doesn't sound quite sane.

"thank goodness. i thought you were going to leave me, my sweet!" he exclaims, rushing to engulf you in a suffocating hug. "but, no, of course not.. you're still mine" he giggles, only for your ears to hear.

he lets you go and takes in all the effort you put into this small party. "ah.. i made it difficult, didn't i? apologies, i truly thought you were tired of serving me and planned to run away!" he grins, planting a kiss to the top of your head.

"thank you, my sweetest maid. i will excuse the secrets, just this once" he tilts his head, a playful glint in his eyes.

"could you make up for it by being my present?"

#writing #yandere #yandere x reader #yanblr #yan blog #male yandere #yandere writing #fem reader #reader insert #x reader

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outtamynoggin · 1 month ago

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Love your dick incorrect quotes 😭💞💞I feel so happy reading them btw how doo u think the batfam would react to seeing alot of pictures of dick in the Wayne mannor (b had this big ass painting of dick in the middle in the hq show and in an old comic there was a wall sized portrait of those two XD

Thank you so much!!

Batman #13

This one right? There's a few others too!

Is this the one about the HQ? From the Harley Quinn show. oh wait hq stands for Harley Quinn 🤣🤣🔫

Either way, I love how Bruce's obsession with Dick is just so constant across media and across decades. DC is literally honing in on him being favorite.

The show is literally unhinged:

Bruce, what? Can you say it in any other words???

Actually in the show, Damian sees the one when they're all dining because he's gaming on the couch and he's so chill about it. Like he just expects it.

Damian: Of course, there's a photo of Richard on the wall. He is the favorite. It is only right that father commissioned a Renaissance-scale shrine for him.

Meanwhile Jason is like: What am I, chopped liver?

While Tim's like: You're actually more like burnt liver.

Tim: *ducks as a whole friggin couch goes sailing over his head. Stands up smirking only to get tackled by a hulking mass of undead muscle*

Damian: At least Todd has a picture on the wall.

Tim: *Pool noodling his way out of Jason's grasp* That's cause he thought both of them were dead which is why he has the pictures up. Only Dick's is the size of a cathedral alter like Bruce commissioned it from the Vatican which he then framed in solid gold. You don’t hang something like that unless you expect people to pray to it. Jason's got shoved into a tiny corner at the bottom.

Jason: *throwing his hands up* CAN I WIN JUST ONCE IN THIS HOUSE?!

Tim: Are you Dick?

Damian: *smirking* No.

Tim: Then no.

Jason: You little twerps. I'm gonna string you two up and throw you out the batplane.

Stephanie: *walking in* Who's throwing who out of a batplane?

Tim: *scoffing* Jason's throwing me and batbrat out of the batplane.

Stephanie: Oooh! Sounds fun, can I join?! I'll bring the ropes!

Tim: You're not even going to ask why???!

Stephanie: *deadpan* Tim. I don't need a reason to throw you out of the batplane.

Tim: *Offended*

Jason: *Laughing and high-fiving her* God you get me.

Stephanie: But for curiosity's sake-

Damian: For the sake of curiosity-

Stephanie: -Why?

Damian: Todd is emotionally compromised over Father's unrelenting favoritism toward Richard.

Stephanie: Oh. Well, duh. Everyone likes Dick more.

Tim: Facts.

Stephanie: That's Batfam Lore™. What brought it on this time though?

Tim: We were talking about the massive picture Bruce has in the dining room.

Stephanie: Oh my fudge cake gods. That Picture! Do you know how hard it is to eat even a cheese stick while being stared down by a thirty-foot tall Dick Grayson?! Like, what is wrong with Bruce! I’m pretty sure the reason Dick doesn’t visit the manor anymore is because he’s too weirded out by a bigger version own self staring at him.

Jason: THANK YOU. Someone with a decent sense of propriety. And why the hell is it life-sized?

Stephanie: Barbara loves it, though. She thinks it's hot. Calls it "Big Dick Energy: Collector’s Edition." But she and Bruce are weird about him.

Tim: *muttering* I think it’s nice.

*Silence.*

Stephanie, Jason, and Damian: *Collectively side-eyeing him*

Stephanie: Right.... You were always weird about him too.

Tim: Wha- I was perfectly normal!

Damian: Drake. You once stood in front of the living room one for six hours straight.

Jason: Ye- six hours? Really?

Damian: He did not eat. He did not move. Father thought he was stuck in a time loop.

Jason: *Turning a disbelieving gaze on Tim* Dude....

Tim: *Flushing* I was just… observing! Deep observation! For art appreciation!

Stephanie: It’s not the fucking Louvre, Tim. That picture has been there through 7 kids and it's going to be there for at least 7 kids. But really, does Bruce have to have so many pictures of Dick?

Jason: *Rolling his eyes* Tell me about it. Don't forget the life-sized one in the library. I went in to read and accidentally ended up having a staring contest with a 2D Dick. Lost both my dignity and the will to finish my book.

Jason: *Gesturing wildly* You can’t eat in peace, can’t read in peace—hell, I tried to take a nap on the couch once and woke up face-to-face with a mantlepiece-sized Dick smile. I thought I died and went to Grayson Heaven.

Damian: Also the framed photos of him littering Father's study so he can stare at them while he works. I'm inundated with his visage every few rooms.

Stephanie: I bet even Alfred’s like, "Sir, perhaps a fourth room of paintings is excessive."

Tim: He’d never say that. Alfred’s part of the cult.

Damian: *Nodding* Pennyworth once wiped dust off the frame and whispered, "Good as new, Master Richard."

Jason: *voice cracking* Okay, you know what? I can’t do this anymore. I’m moving to Crime Alley. At least there, there’s no Dick—

Stephanie: There’s literally a Nightwing mural spray-painted across an entire wall with the word "Hope" like Gotham’s Beyoncé.

Jason: *crying* Fuck. Exactly. EVEN THERE I CAN'T ESCAPE HIM.

Damian: *judging him* This is a personal failing.

Jason: *frothing at the mouth* No, you would think that, wouldn't you? You’re the last person who should talk! You get all misty-eyed and say "We were the best, Grayson" every time Dick breathes near you!

Damian: *smirking* That is because it’s true.

Jason: *Collapsing on the coach and trying to avoid looking at the framed picture Dick on the side table* ....I can't believe I'm saying this... but thank you for being the normal one, Steph.

Stephanie: *Laughing nervously* Uh, yeah. Sure! No problem!

Tim: *Rolling his eyes* You're thanking the wrong girl. She-

Stephanie: *Wacking him unconscious hurriedly* SO! Who wants waffles!!

#the batfam is just really a massive dick grayson cult #tim is dick's number 1 fanboy for life #Batfam: In the name of the Father- Dick- and Holy Frame(s)#in the floor is lava game everyone has repeatedly at some point clung onto a dick frame. that's why he's actually known as the savior #jason has a secret dick shrine too but he will take that secret to his second grave #would it be a second grave or would they just rebury him in the original one #Dick is Gotham's Beyoncé but also its Patron Saint and the batfam is the vatican and Bruce is the pope #Damian: Father’s shrine to Richard is actually emotionally grounding #Jason: IS IT THO #if that dining room Dick painting falls during an earthquake it's taking a floor and 3 kids with it #and Alfred will still dust the frame before rescuing you #stephanie once prayed to it during finals week and aced her algebra exam #jason keeps throwing shade but his phone background is Dick in the circus #“I'm not obsessed I'm oppressed” - Jason 2 seconds before sobbing #Stephanie: I don’t like him anymore Tim!#Tim: Then why did you paint a mural of him on your bedroom ceiling—#Steph: ARTISTIC EXPRESSION YOU GREMLIN #jason built a panic room. Inside? No Dick paintings #tim broke into it and stuck a Nightwing sticker on the ceiling #Jason has not known peace since #tim keeps a clicker to count how many times someone stares at the portrait bc it's so common #current record holder: Bruce. 382 in one day.#my long tags againnnnn #dick grayson #nightwing #incorrect quotes #incorrect batfamily quotes #jason todd #red hood #tim drake

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genericpuff · 3 months ago

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hi! this is my first time reading lore rekindled, and I am amazed with the remake you have done for it

in a way that's lore accurate and still going with the flow of the storyline from Lore Olympus (that I stopped reading, tbh midway. the plot lost me. looking back, the characterization [and example is apollo on what he had done to kore, felt off and not him that that's how he's written in perse's life. glad you changed it up)

---

Anyway, I wanted to start it off with I'm glad to have seen that yt recommended video of LR. Secondly, now that I have catched up to the latest episode, I was wondering why Hades is in the wrong here rather than Dio?

I've read it and felt that Dio was being an ass to Hades along the way.

Again, as the notes have written themselves, lovely episode, artisty, and visuals! looking forward to the future episodes 🤗

Ahh thank you so much!

I have gotten a few comments and questions about Dionysus and his behavior in Episode 68. It's sort of a perfect storm of conflicts that Dionysus took into his own hands to solve.

Biggest reason he was there at all was to personally confront Hades not for that specific instance of talking about Kore, but for past incidents, and with his newfound knowledge of Kore interning in the Underworld-

Dionysus may often speak in riddles and broken speech, but underneath he's essentially asked Demeter for permission to take matters into his own hands, permission which Demeter gives in a very hands-off way - she doesn't ask him to specifically confront and beat up Hades in the middle of The Olive Branch, but she's willing to let nature take its course in whatever direction it must take, and that was the direction Dionysus chose.

And really, he was just planning to beat Hades up. It was when Hades talked back that Dionysus decided to play even dirtier. It wasn't just out of spite, Hades was also technically overstepping the ruling that Zeus had given. Though he had a point that Dionysus was already playing dirty by ambushing him without warning, in this context where Zeus had given a ruling to Dionysus (even though it was played up for comedy) Hades was basically being a sore loser LMAO

(was Dionysus allowed to do this? Probably not, but considering we spent the majority of the episode trapped within Hades' mind, we've yet to see the consequences of Dionysus' own choices here.)

Aside from that, we also have to bear in mind that unlike Kore, Dionysus is an Olympian who already has his own constructed opinion of Hades from past lived experiences. He's not a complete stranger swooping in to protect Kore with zero context, he's been a part of Kore's life since she was born and has basically taken on the role of her honorary uncle; meanwhile, if blood-related DNA were at play, Dionysus is essentially Hades' nephew, and he's had more than his own fair share of run-ins with Hades over the years even before Kore was in the picture.

Of course, that's a lot of stuff we've yet to fully get into, but I mention it anyways as a reminder that, while Hades is clueless to Dionysus' affiliations with Kore, Dionysus isn't clueless when it comes to Hades' own patterns of behavior from the past, and so it automatically became a priority for him when he sensed those patterns repeating themselves.

All that said, none of that's to say that you have to even see Hades in the wrong! It's definitely a complicated matter that's also not being helped by Zeus, who's instigating a lot of the drunk gossip talk around the table, but like Dionysus, Zeus also knows Hades well enough to recognize his own behavior and faults, and he's doing what he's always done, albeit poorly - prodding people for the truth.

And then, of course, the fact that both Zeus and Hades were treating the wait staff poorly was just the icing on top of the shit cake. While Chloe is a denizen of Olympus - Zeus' domain - she was also acting the role of cupbearer, serving alcoholic beverages, which enters the grey area of Dionysus' domain as the god of wine. I get to have a lot of fun with those sorts of grey areas when writing out these scenarios LOL

TL ; DR: I think two things can be true. I think Hades absolutely deserves an ass-whooping for all the things he's done (so far) but I also think Dionysus is overstepping his own jurisdiction with Kore, especially when both she and Demeter will undoubtedly catch wind of his actions. As for how those consequences play out, well, we'll get to it eventually ;3 In the meantime, it makes for fun drama and I hope you continue to enjoy it! <3

#lore rekindled ama #ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything

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joeloverture · 1 year ago

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comeuppance | qz!j.m. x f!reader

masterlist | notifs blog

pairing: qz!joel miller x f!reader summary: [post outbreak] when your recklessness causes an arms deal to go south, joel makes sure you regret it. warnings: (18+ mdni) qz!joel, age gap (late 20s/early 50s), written with hbo!joel in mind but with game!joel lore, guns, mentioned executions, misogynistic names outside (and in!) a sexual context, canon-typical violence as in murder (joel kills a soldier 'on-screen'), reader is a little shit but joel is worse, darkish & dubcon, spanking as a punishment, gunplay, attempted boot humping, degradation, humiliation, one kick to the cunt, mean!joel, orgasm denial [no use of y/n] word count: 2.7k a/n: this is my (admittedly late) submission for @iamasaddie's writing challenge 2.0! my prompt was 'you can't hide forever'. the genre was technically dark but joel himself isn't scarily dark here. thank you so much to aly for, once again, bringing this fandom together with her challenges. it's a steep task but she does a great job every time! and even more thanks to @joelsdagger and @lovesickonmybed for helping me brainstorm! (i have half of a brain without my wonderfully creative friends).

It only takes one deal gone south to fuck everything up.

You know the compass is already ticking that way the moment you and Joel, your longtime smuggling partner, enter the abandoned warehouse. Much like everything else in the Boston QZ, it’s falling apart. The corrugated metal walls are pitted with rust, and old blood is caked all over the floors. In another life, it might’ve been a slaughterhouse, but there’s no real way of knowing. It’s been long enough that any signage has deteriorated. The building’s state of decay, however, isn’t what messes things up.

It’s the singular man that walks in from the opposite side of the atrium.

FEDRA’s favorite executioner. Slitted eyes far apart, thinned out lips, and graying black hair. Rarely seen away from the gallows, only recognizable to you from all of the nightmares you’ve had of his face being the last you see.

If it were drugs, you’d think nothing of it. FEDRA soldiers buy quietly from you all of the time – but they have no need for guns that they don’t already have.

Joel steps forward, merchandise in the duffel bag over his shoulder, none the wiser. A knot ties itself in the base of your throat. You’re too busy trying to figure out what to do, what to do, what to do that you barely even realize that the soldier has a gun aimed right between your eyes until you’re looking right down the barrel.

Your hand jerks to your holster, drawing your pistol in one swipe.

“Drop your fucking gun!” he barks in your direction. It clatters out of your hands. “Don’t you dare fucking move.” Your hands fly up as you take a step back, nearly stumbling into a nearby crate. “Joel Miller and his bitch,” the man sneers. “What a lucky find. You two have quite the bounty on your heads.”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Joel says, face completely blank.

“Easy for you to say,” the guard says with a nagging smirk. “Your little cunt here already did. Pretty fucking dumb not to check who you’re selling your merchandise to, huh?”

Joel tenses, ultimately huffing through his nose. “Can we get this over with?”

“I’ll make it easy, Miller. Come with me alive so I get paid, or come with me dead so I still get paid.”

Joel’s fingers twitch behind his back, and after almost three years of working with him, it’s impossible not to pick up on the subtext. Keep him busy. His hand is already reaching for the revolver in his back pocket.

“Turn the other way. I can make this worth your time,” you say. “But you’re lucky if those sons of bitches you work for even offer you half the reward they’ve posted for us. Dragging the bodies from Area 5 to the closest checkpoint… you’d have your work cut out for you.”

“Yeah fucking right,” he spits. “You two have been running around free for too damn long. Causing too much trouble. Not anymo–”

The man’s mouth freezes around the words by the time the bullet soars throat the canvas fabric of Joel’s duffel bag and through the man’s jugular. The soldier’s hands claw for his throat while he gargles on the blood as he begins the descent to the ground. New blood, still pumping directionless from the split artery, joins the old.

Much like him, where he’s slumping against the ground, chest moving until the very end, your hands clutch at your own throat. “We need to go,” you say, knowing the rest of FEDRA will come looking for the firefight at any second now. Joel doesn’t move. “Joel!” You reach out to tug his sleeve, but he doesn’t react. “Jesus– move!”

Joel turns to face you, gun still hanging from his hand. His fingers flex around the grip. “What the hell were you thinkin’, little girl?” You can hear his breathing, amplified from how close he is to you. His once inexpressive face is now red, lips curled, skin tight like a crushed soda can.

“I– what?”

“Not vettin’ your buyers. First fuckin’ thing I told you all them years ago, wasn’t it? Gotta check so you don’t sell shit to the wrong guy, yeah?” He stalks closer to you – you stumble back.

Not vetting the now dead executioner, whose blood is currently creeping up to the soles of your boots. Your mistake, yes, a potentially catastrophic one that you’ll definitely never make again after this, but he’d been on your ass about finding buyers and after an entire day of burning bodies, the last thing you wanted to do was go asking around about the ‘John’ in search of guns that you’d talked to over the radio tower.

“We’re alive, aren’t we?”

Joel finally jerks his sleeve away from your grip. Your hand falls slack by your side, burning from his fire stoker touch. “And you oughta count your fuckin’ blessings for that. Dumbfuck of a girl, gonna get me killed,” he spits. Spittle flies across your neck.

You flinch – and not because you’re scared. You’ve never seen him like this before. You hear noise in the distance, the moving of FEDRA trucks, no doubt. “Joel! We can do this later – we need to fucking go–”

“Then you better start running,” he says gruffly.

You don’t need to be told twice.

You sprint out of the atrium, cursing as your bloodied soles carve tracks behind you. A stack of crates blocks the door, which you vault over and shimmy your way through the broken glass panel. The hallway ahead of you is dark, and you have no idea where the fuck you’re going, only that you can’t stop. Each impact of your foot on the ground is like being struck by lightning, carbonating the racing blood pumping through your body. More glass crunches behind you, and a shock of terror pierces you when you hear Joel’s snarls filling the corridor.

There’s a metal cart in your way, which you send whirling in Joel’s direction. He grunts, presumably hitting him in the stomach before it goes clattering on the ground. You make the most of the diversion, hurtling forward and lurching through a cracked door.

Dead fucking end.

An office, by the looks of it. Desks all over the place, leftover tasks still pinned on cork boards from outbreak day, chairs on their sides. You hear Joel huffing and puffing behind you, and fear forks through you. You fall to your hands and knees, crawling underneath the labyrinth of desks and tucking yourself against a wall, carpet-burned hand to your mouth to muffle your breathing. Your chest avalanches with every single breath.

“You ain’t off the hook,” Joel says, voice getting closer with every word. You can hear the thump of his boots against the carpet. See the spread of his shadow roaming across the wall. You squint through the seam of two desks. He's looking over his shoulder when you haul yourself across the room to the next closest desk.

You look around for anything that might get you out of this long enough to slip back out of the door. If you can make it back to the apartment, maybe he can cool off on his own walk back. You reach up for a stapler and take a brief second to peek over a filing cabinet before flinging it against the wall. It snaps open, spilling decades old staples all over the floor.

“Only a clicker’s fallin’ for that,” he tuts at you. His boots land on the floor again, one, two, three steps closer to you. You wince, balling your hands into fists.

All you can hear is the thrashing of your own heart. You scooch away from the desk – maybe if you throw something small at him, like a pack of sticky notes, it’ll be enough to abduct his attention long enough for you to slip by–

“You can’t hide forever,” Joel goddamn coos at you. You see him bending at the waist, scoping out the undersides of desks, seeking you out–

You crawl out from under the desk and book it to the door.

Stupid. Fucking. Idea.

Joel hauls you back by the belt loop, laughing as you cry out. You try squirming away, kicking at him, but his other arm wraps around your torso. It hits you then that you have no idea what he might do to you. You’ve trusted him with your life before, but what would he do when you risked his? You’d always been too scared to find out. He spins you, slamming you over the desk. You cry out as your chest meets the wood. His hand drags your wrists together, pinning them at the small of your back.

“Let me – the fuck– go!” you yell at him, trying to bend your elbow at the right angle to nail him in the chest.

He tightens his grip so much that you can barely move an inch. “Made your fuckin’ bed, gotta lie in it, sweetheart,” he tuts, shaking his head at you. His hand grazes over your ass, and you stiffen as he looms over you. He is just a man. Your mind spins to the worst-case scenario. No, no, no, no–

“How about an… old-fashioned corporal punishment to set ya straight?” Within the next second, he’s yanking your jeans down your thighs.

Oh. Oh fuck.

“Joel–” you exhale, breath shuddery. “Knock it off–”

“No panties? I was gonna be nice and spank ya over them…” Joel frowns at you. “Poor baby. ‘S gonna sting real bad.”

You snap at him, “What, you want me to go to the local QZ Victoria’s Secret?”

Joel swats, hard, across your asscheek.

You’ve seen how intense Joel’s brute strength can be. You’ve just never been on the receiving end of it. A cry pushes out of your throat, and you hunch over the desk as you struggle helplessly against Joel. Tears spring at your eyes.

Mercifully, Joel runs his calloused palm over the smarting skin. “Shh, shh, shh, shh. ‘S okay, Jus’ gotta teach ya a lesson. Make sure it sticks.” He strokes the nape of your neck as you whimper into the desk.

You tense up in preparation for the second hit, but, if anything, it just makes the impact worse. It prickles your other cheek, leaving your knees shaky. And God help you, your clit twitches. Twitches. Your thighs are already heating up, and you can’t help but squirm in a good way underneath Joel. A single tear slips over your waterline, and you have to tilt your head into the shoulder of your shirt to wipe it off. You don’t want him to see you weak – not that weak.

The next spank makes him grunt from how hard he swings his palm into your backside. “Joel!” you shout, pain nearly splitting you in two. Your feet raise off of the ground as you prop yourself up on the desk, kicking uselessly at his shins. All he does is chuckle at you.

Horror sinks like a cinderblock in your stomach when you realize that your hole, leaking slick, is practically fucking winking at him. You thank the darkness. It’s about the only good thing about this place.

“You don’t like that?” he mock-pouts at you. It’s enough to make you throb. The opposite, you’d say if you could.

A series of spanks follows, but at least these are lighter, and in rapid succession. Still, you jerk with each impact, squirming so that your fingers dance in his grip. “Stupid little girl. Thought you could sell our shit to a FEDRA bitch and get off scot-free? Really thought you could get away from me, huh?”

You try clamming up, desperately attempting to close your legs together. You squeeze your thighs together, relieved at the pressure – and then you hear a resounding click behind you.

You still.

Joel’s gun, still fucking hot from the bullet it’d fired right into the executioner’s throat, traces up the small of your back… all the way to your throat. “Could put one right here,” Joel whispers, more to himself than you. “Show ya what happens to girls that don’t follow orders.” He jams it into your skin, and you hiss at the pain, at the bruise it’s sure to leave. And in spite of it all, you fucking gush. God, you’re fucked up.

He wouldn’t kill you – he needs you more than you need him. But common sense isn’t enough to prevent the thrill, the arousal smiting your body from head to toe.

“I’ll reconsider if ya give it a kiss.” He nudges the barrel carefully against your lips and you stop breathing for a second, maybe two. “Go on. Give it some lovin’. Suck it like a cock. I know you’re good at it. Hear all the guys you bring over.”

You whimper at the thought of Joel listening to you getting your hook ups off – at the thought of him fisting his own cock while he listens. Obediently, you part your lips, slowly, ever so slowly, taking the gun down your throat. It fills your mouth up in such a strange way – all hard edges. It’d be freezing cold if not for the fact that it’s a weapon of death, a scythe in its own way. One press of the trigger, and you’d be just like the guard. You suck even harder at it, eyes rolling back in your skull. Your thighs twitch, stripes of slick running down your thighs.

Joel reaches between your legs, grabbing at the meat of your inner thigh to spread you open. Instead, he gets a handful of the arousal that’s been pooling between your legs since he first bent you over the desk.

You freeze, pausing your ministrations on the pistol. He himself freezes before he drags his hips over your folds. His finger pads hover over your swollen clit before he properly rubs you once, and then twice. Your hips cant into the closest thing – his hand.

Joel makes a disgusted noise and swats your leaking pussy before shoving you forward and stepping back. You’re panting, properly fucked out even though he’d barely touched you. Cross-eyed, tongue hanging out, face hot. He looks you up and down, brows furrowing with revulsion. “Horny fuckin’ bitch. Creamin’ all over me. That long since you got action that a spankin’ and a gun in your mouth is all it takes to get you riled up? Pathetic.” He shoves the gun back in his pocket, still shining with your saliva.

He wipes your wetness all over your leg, grabs the back of your collar, and drags you to the floor in one foul swoop. You fall on your hands and knees again, ass still stinging from his treatment, lightheaded from how needy you are. Even his brutal treatment makes you whimper.

You reach for his calf, pulling yourself up to brace your dripping cunt against his boot. You rut against it, not even fully cognizant of your movements as you roll your hips, praying that he lets you have this if nothing else. Your orgasm, wetting his boot thoroughly. Your scent, clinging to him on the walk back to the apartment. You buck into the boot, moaning as the toe bumps against your clit. It might be enough, if you could just do it one more time–

Joel tears his shoe out from underneath you, face pinched with aversion. “No!” you cry, still grabbing for his calf. You fall onto your back, legs spread and panting. Your ass needles from his spanking. The ceiling tiles spin above you.

The same toe you’d been humping kicks into your cunt, and you yelp, curling in on yourself. Another tear slides down your burning cheek as you reach down to cup your sore pussy. Even that pressure feels like touching a live wire.

Joel looks down at his shining boot and makes a disgusted noise. “Does humiliatin’ yourself always get ya dicked down?”

He turns around, already walking away from you without a care in the world. The gun grip pokes out of his pocket, taunting you.

“Pull your goddamn pants up and get a move on. Curfew’s soon.”

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