#They are from 1 and a half year ago haha

[annaesterella]

Since almost every good fan of Yan-Batfam or something like that is getting into this (and I'm a fan of that kind of thing) LET'S HAVE A NEGLECTED READER

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀. ☆

But I saw that a lot of people liked the other fic, seriously people, KISSES DIRECTLY FROM ANNA! SERIOUSLY, I FELT LIKE A Celebrity (<⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠> ehehe) And this was the first time that a fic of mine gained so many views and I'm very excited, thank you to everyone who liked it!

F/reader (sorry guys, I don't know how to write M/reader)

I'll write a part II, bcuz is too long!

“Don't be silly! I would never be a Wayne.”

Well, first things first, when did it all started again? Haha not 500 time loops ago, but some years ago.. like the first child, you were from a circus, the difference is that.. well? Your parents were magicians, at least your mother... your father until you were 6 or 7 years old was just another distant memory but sweet, not yours, but your mother's... the incredible magic of the circus “Joie nocturne” a beautiful woman, yet another victim of the charms of the heartthrob, philanthropist, billionaire and owner of Wayne companies, Bruce Wayne. Of course, your mother, like almost all women, never forgot him, having him as her beautiful memory, after all, he gave her everything she needed.. you, her lil bunny! That's what she called you, before she was gone, like him, she turned into your distant but sweet memory, like a magic spell..

You felt so alone, the circus wanted to keep you, after all, you were their family too, but even so, he found out about you, and being a child, You wanted to meet your father. Still, feeling the pain of abandoning what you knew, you went. You had your 10 minutes of affection and then never saw him again. You met your two brothers, half brothers, Dick and Jason, and the buttler, Alfred, You thought your life would be like a funny family sitcom, HAHA, WHAT A JOKE. Of course, the oldest was excited to meet you, you were just like him, from a circus! The youngest was curious about the situation, yet he was kind to you and didn't mistreat you. The oldest gentleman, Even with little time, he treated you like your grandfather treated you, you then created an innocent affection for him, after all, he reminded you of your grandfather! After 1 or 2 weeks, they disappeared. Only you and "grandpa" are left.. Just like your mother, you developed an affection for magic... but just those stupid tricks left you bored... even so, it was affectionate to see Alfred pretending not to know about the tricks, just to see you smiling... soon you realized.. you weren't really a Wayne.. at most a visitor. They didn't have time for you, Alfred was still a buttler at the end of the day.

Time passed and you felt more and more alone, of course, you had Alfred, but... he didn't always have time for you. Soon more people appeared... and others disappeared... Jason was the first to go, and even with the short time, you suffered, he was kind... your brother for such a short time, you wished you had played with him more, and after that the house, which was already abandoned, became even emptier, soon another boy appeared, Tim, from a rich family.. and soon Dick went to another city.. you don't remember when, but now there was also Cassandra, Damian, Duke.. Steph.. you remember Barbara from a long time.. Even though the house was full, it was still empty... and you could only comfort yourself with the magic and the things your mother had left for you. Your little stuffed rabbit and its "magic" materials. Even though If you were his biological daughter too, Damian seemed to have more of Wayne than you,maybe because he was a vigilante, maybe because he was a boy? did not you know of course... so why bother? Soon, you stopped trying, you didn't want that anymore... crawling for affection? At your eighteen You made your choice. You wouldn't be a Wayne, you'd be a joie nocturne again. But would they let you? That night, you went to visit the circus, that was your favorite time of year... Halloween, and circus mixed together? Wonderful! So you saw that... the villainy... and for a split second, you wanted to.. do something.. Playing like a good girl, you approached the large bearded man and tugged on his sleeve, asking what that was all about. Maybe this was your chance to be something. It was funny at first, seeing their despair, your second family, trying to explain themselves, but you soon gave a smile, before stamping your foot on the floor, making a crowbar appear, helping to open it. That was the beginning of everything... you were finally someone... even if on the wrong side. Soon, the decisive moment arrived, when you returned "home", packed your bags, and like a magic spell, you disappeared, leaving only a white rabbit and everything you did in that house, in your room, every magic award, every cheap magic materials.

After a Patrol day, Dick he noticed something unusual in the mansion, perhaps because Alfred was visiting his homeland, but it couldn't be that, after all, Alfred had already done that before... Oh right! Birthday girl, his ittle bunny sister. He ran upstairs, knocking on the bedroom door, before entering and seeing only a stuffed rabbit on the bed, and the various magical things around the room, if not for the empty drawers and things, he would say you still lived there by the decoration and the fact room looks good, everything is well maintained, warm

Dick: Bunny?

He called, looking around the room, before looking around, seeing the various magic prizes, photos, top hats and magic kits. All given by Alfred or someone called "Mr. Joie nocturne" Could he be a friend of yours? What do you mean you had participated in so many contests and won? Why didn't you call? Or did you call? Where were you now? Why was everything empty? You went away. He started walking in circles, until Tim entered the room.

Tim: You will make a hole in the ground. I called you several times, why are you in this room exactly?

Dick: Y/N, she is gone.. and we didn't even notice or whatever, we didn't receive any notification, why didn't she notify us that she was moving, we... damn... we weren't going to help probably because we were on patrol, did we waver? Did she know we were on patrol? Does she know the truth?

Tim: Wait, too much to process.. what does it mean "She is gone" she left? Is that it?

Dick: Yes. Dumbass

And well, we can say after that, what happened was like "Oh shit" and then everyone was like "OH SHIT" while you were home.. happy! Getting ready for her first show, her first real show... too true. You thought as you put on your gloves and applied your lipstick. Then, with slow steps, you walked onto the stage, smiling, while waving to everyone, who murmured and whistled. So you decided to do your first trick for the night, the "bullet trick" The difference? There was no trick behind it, just you and your skills... after all, it was in your blood. Just as the bullet was about to go through your skull, you snapped your fingers, and then the bullet turned into a beautiful, bright purple butterfly, flying through the circus, soon coming back towards you and turning into your bow tie. Okay, a bit of a show on your part for the first trick, but you have to show that you have morals. Funny that meanwhile, his family was desperate, going so far as to call Alfred, who was now just as desperate. Then, the special time came, the circus then closed the lights and when it opened, all the valuable belongings, inside the boxes, Of course, you had to feign shock, some clowns trying to calm the audience, and of course, you were also feigning surprise, making your things "disappear" to join in the fun. You looked at the children, snorting slightly, as you made the toys re-appear, seeing some calm down, while the others widened their eyes in surprise. Soon, the "incredible" Bat-family appeared... seriously, for such an idiotic cause they came...? Soon you saw them walking towards you and everything fell into place.

Nightwing: — Y/N! I mean.. Young Lady.. we were notified of your disappearance, we will ask you to return home.

You frowned, as you looked at the audience. Hearing their screams increase, some of relief that the "Bat-family" was there, others of confusion at the situation.

: — I believe, I'm already eighteen, so there's nothing to worry about, Still, I'm with my family at the moment, so I don't understand why the complaint. Not to mention that we were robbed at that moment, so why specifically did they come to resolve a case like this?

You questioned calmly, while pointing at the audience, smiling, before rushing to disappear with your family, leaving the problem to the bats, after all, they were the "professionals." You could say that the shock was written on their faces.. you were so big, poorly dressed.. those presentation clothes didn't suit a little girl like you.. but still.. what you meant by "your family" Were you referring to those circus freaks? They weren't as good as they were, they were just.. ordinary people! Well.. now they had to solve the problem of theft... but that couldn't end like that, nope.

[lyrefromthesea]

hi! just read your post about accidentally deleting your inbox jsjsjs so sorry that happened to you. i must've been a hassle to you. uhm just in case mine got deleted as well, i'll send it again if it's alright with you haha if i remember correctly, i think it was a muzan request + male hashiras where their s/o (or someone who has feelings for them) intervened with their respective fights and their actions were the deciding factors of the fight's outcome that led them to victory (you could have their s/o either perish or survive) thank you again and wish you a good day/evening! 🙆🏻‍♀️💙

Male Hashira + Muzan x Reader - Make it Count

author's note: i finally managed to finish this post. truthfully, only Rengoku's part was missing, but my motivation was completely gone after i broke my hand. i hope you enjoy my thoughts on this and sorry for keeping you waiting.

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader, Muzan x reader

content warning: descriptions of blood, death (Obanai, Gyomei)

Tengen:

• in this life, he didn't lose a hand fighting Gyutaro and Daki. instead of Obanai, you were the person called for help. luckily, you arrived earlier, but it changed the outcome of the whole fight

• Tengen nearly threw up when instead of his hand being chopped off, you received a deep cut from Gyutaro, making blood spill over your uniform.

• the only thing keeping him going was that you immediately held onto the demon, forcing him to stay dangerously still. while the demon trashed, he couldn't free himself against your grip.

• luck was on your side when Tengen dashed forward beheaded the green-haired demon. and if it hadn't been for the younger slayer beheading Daki, it could've turned out much worse.

• relaxation fell short, Tengen caught your body and started sprinting towards help, losing consciousness a moment later. he would've never forgiven himself without you by his side.

• happiest time in years when he woke up in a hospital bed, finding you asleep in the bed on his right. you looked better than before. healthier.

Obanai:

• he's blaming himself, somehow this all was his fault. he didn't know what demon the two of you would encounter, nor did he know you'd join this mission with him, but it was his fault.

• trauma caught up with him when a giant snake demon appeared in front of him. his body got tense, blood running cold through his veins. she looked exactly like the demon he had seen ears ago, but she was dead. right?

• you had screamed at him, told him to attack or run - do something. anything. realizing there was no other way, you leap at the demon, pushing Obanai to the side and start to attack.

• he gets thrown to the ground, watching you jump high, sword aimed at the beast calling herself a demon. luck isn't on your side when she opens her mouth, jaw dislocating uncannily.

• her fangs sink deep into your torso a moment later, body feeling an immense pain running through it. Obanai reacts when he sees your shocked eyes.

• if it hadn't been for the weird angle of his attacks, he wouldn't have been able to behead her. if only he had reacted fast enough, your body falling several feet until he catches you in his arms, demon vanishing with a low hiss.

• "Oba- nai.." he couldn't believe it, wouldn't believe it, but the purple tint crawling it's way over your skin spoke to him. you had been poisoned. severely.

• the skin around the bite marks was already fully purple, the color already consuming half your neck. "i don't.. want to die.."

• he wanted to say it wouldn't happen, he wanted to assure you, but instead he only held you in his arms, pressing you close to him.

• 1 minute and 26 seconds. your heart stopped beating right after. yet he only moved hours after you were long gone, the exact time having gone lost in a sea of misery.

Rengoku:

• he was so tired, not wanting to fight anymore, but having to push through. the demon was strong, stronger than any demon he had ever encountered. he can't remember when the fight started, but the sun would rise soon and while the demon kept fighting, his exhaustion was increasing.

• his eyes snapped towards you when he saw you dart towards the demon. he hadn't seen you until then, meaning you had probably come from behind the demon.

• the following part had been his fault, shouting your name in the heat of the moment. it didn't only alarm you, but the demon as well, making it turn around and slash at you.

• you blacked out right after, only hearing the sound of Rengoku's sharp sword gliding through the air.

• when you awoke, you were in an unknown room. your environment was completely white - no, not everything. the warm and bright colors next to you were the most recognizable thing you've ever seen.

• with a bit of pain, you combed your fingers through Rengoku's hair, making the man relax into your touch.

• "i'm sorry." his words were quiet, he didn't have the energy to sound happy this time around. instead he looked at you with soft eyes and a hope of receiving forgiveness.

Sanemi:

• he wouldn't let you die, he wouldn't even think of it. however, it was only normal for demon slayers to get hurt, right? he had multiple scars of his own, he knew he couldn't protect you from everything.

• he just thought he could at least protect you from major wounds. that's why he couldn't believe his eyes when he not only saw the demon slash you, but nearly cut you in half.

• you were lucky enough to safe yourself from a fatal wound on your stomach, but the excruciating pain you felt in your left arm was nearly worse.

• waking up, you didn't remember ever seeing the surroundings you now saw. before you could panic and search for help, you heard a shoji slide open.

• "you.. you're awake." you nodded, watching the man walk towards you. he sat down next your futon, a small plate in hand.

• "eat. you need energy." the gravel tone in his voice made you hesitate, but you still listened to your friend and mentor. however, when you reached towards the plate with your left hand, your eyes widened.

• you watched your yukata slide down your arm, revealing the missing limb. bandages and ointment had been applied, at least that's what the scent told you.

• yet you couldn't stop the tears from forming. what kind of demon slayer would fight with only one hand. you were on the verge of hyperventilating when Sanemi grabbed your arm.

• his touch was never this soft, almost as if he feared causing even more damage. the coldness in his gaze told you the same story. what happened has not only altered you, but also him.

• he didn't talk, the room being shrouded in a deafening silence. when he finally moved again, he only let his hand sink, still holding onto you.

• the pain his eyes displayed were unmistakable. you knew a talk about your last mission would follow, but the change in his demeanour scared you more than the lack of your hand.

Giyuu:

• your eyes snapped open in seconds, body tensing. you had wanted to jump into a defensive position when you felt a painful ache throughout your whole body.

• you hissed in pain, arching your back away from the soft mattress under you. where was the demon? you had been facing him moments prior!

• your heart leaped when you felt a strong hand grabbing onto your arm, gently yet forcefully pushing you back down into a resting position.

• "i couldn't protect you." his voice was quiet, almost shaky. he didn't dare meet your gaze, instead letting his eyes rest on your hand.

• "what..?" you couldn't grasp the situation at first, looking around the room, which you soon identified as part of the butterfly mansion.

• then you looked down at yourself, seeing numerous bandages hide different parts of your body. the aching pain in your back suddenly made sense, remembering the demon you fought.

• your eyes widened in realization, forcing yourself to sit up. Giyuu reminded you to stay in bed, but his resolve slipped when he felt your arms wrap around him.

• "you saved me." the words made him tense. yes, the demon had been strong with a weapon that dealt multiple hits at once, but you were hurt-

• "i think i would've died." you stated, your voice having dropped in volume. he recognized the tone, you always sounded that way when something negatve played in your mind.

• "i'm glad you're alive." he answered, his voice even more quiet than yours. not wanting you to feel down amymore, he carefully put his arms around you.

• he was sure he failed, but if it would make you feel better, he could play your savior for now.

Gyomei:

• he had never cursed his blindness. it had been his way of living, a small obstacle he needed to face every day.

• he didn't know it would become his greatest fear after years of peace. he had already gone to numerous missions with you, nothing had every stopped you from winning. sure, an open wound or broken bone but nothing too bad.

• so why could he not spot you with any of his senses. he had known your exact location a moment prior, but now it wasn't there anymore. the demon was dead, how could this be?

• a bad feeling bubbled deep in his gut when he felt warmth radiating near him. it was barely there, but he had felt it. he kneeled down, his large hand reaching towards the source.

• he immediately recognized the uniform you were wearing, even when it was soaked in blood and ripped apart. yet his focus was barely there.

• he was searching for something, anything. your breathing had stilled, your warmth had drastically decreased. not a single sound was coming from your body.

• the tears that fell onto your body right after spoke of utter despair. he knew you were scared of death, he wasn't there when you bled out on the ground.

• he carefully wiped the long fallen tears away from your cheeks, closing your eyes in the most tender way he could muster. "i'm sorry."

• he picked your body up, making sure to cradle you in his arms. it was time to go home.

Muzan:

• he knew keeping a human by his side was a miserable idea. he had wanted to turn you into a demon right from the start, but you just had to deny.

• and those reasons you had, so humane, he almost threw up. family. friends. aging. feeling. didn't you understand the superiority of his perfect being?

• nevermind, he could keep you around for a while longer, until you learned how much better demons were.

• how come you would die before you even got the chance to experience such superiority? hit. by a simple demon slayer.

• those pesky animals had annoyed him right from the start. the moment he saw your body fall, he had already gotten rid of the slayer. the incompetence to mistake another human for a demon was disgusting to him.

• his mind was immediately back on you, watching you slump against a nearby tree and sob in agony. he didn't hesitate, the needle forming on the flesh appendage protruding his back shooting towards you.

• those damn emotions would keep you from becoming a demon, wanting to die human. he didn't care, in this matter your opinion was irrelevant.

• the loud cry you let out wasn't anything he would've liked to hear, but it was necessary to keep you alive. just a bit more of his blood and you would never face these problems again.

• he walked to your unconscious body, the sound of a biwa filling the back of his mind. you would learn to like your new existence. he wouldn't give you another choice, you were too important.

[specialagentartemis]

ykw i am having so much fan watching you be a hater, that i’ve decided to ask for more. PLEASE give us a rant about a book you hated.

Haha aw I'm honored. And uh I hope you don't have any particular attachment to Becky Chambers. Sorry in advance.

But A Psalm for the Wild-Built won a Hugo and I do not get the love. Book 1 was nice enough, yeah. Book 2 had me tearing my hair out.

Sibling Dex is a restless Tea Monk who serves the God of Small comforts on the science-fantasy planet of Panga. I genuinely love the idea of a tea monk - part therapist, part confessor, travels around to the different towns, mixes tea blends for people, lets them talk about their worries and fears and stresses, and gives them, if not advice, then sympathy and a listening ear and some calming tea. This is meaningful work but they're unhappy. After doing this for a while they're still unsatisfied with their life, so they go into the woods searching for self-actualization, and meet a robot named Mosscap, a wild robot that lives in the woods. See, hundreds of years ago, all the robots "woke up" and became sentient one day, then they staged a quiet rebellion against humanity's greed and industrialization by walking into the woods and never coming back. Now, the continent is split in half: humans stay on the Human Side, and robots stay on the Robot Side. The Robot Side is kept wild and humans are discouraged from going in there because humans can't be trusted not to ruin Nature. The rpbots are welcome to come to the Human Side, they just never have. Dex is the first person in a While to venture into the woods of the Robot Side, and the first human since the great walkout to see a robot. Mosscap gives Dex a lot of philosophical pep talks about not pushing themself so hard, about allowing themself to just rest and appreciate the world without feeling like they need to be Providing A Service to justify their existence. It's a nice theme. Underbaked, imo, but nice. Relateable.

Book 2 was a goddamn mess.

Book 1 mostly takes place in the wilderness of the woods, so it's okay if the nice utopian human community Dex comes from was sketchily-built. It Just Works, and everyone Is Just Nice, this is a science-fantasy parable. There were some issues I had with it - like the strict ideological and physical divide between Nature and Humans, and the fact that Dex's religion seems to be the Only Religion In The World, and it's vaguely secular-humanist with the gods being not "really" gods but names given to primordial forces and philosophical concepts, and the religion not really making any demands of its adherents in any way except to become their best selves and devote themselves to what they like... it's potentially interesting, but overall kinda lazy. It felt like Becky Chambers was aware of the idea that having an enlightened-atheist sci-fi utopia is Problematic, so she made there be a central religion, but she also didn't want it to have any of the ~icky~ things religions have, like belief in anything supernatural, or dietary restrictions, or creeds, or codes of behavior, or expectations to make any kind of sacrifice in any way. All the gods "ask" is that humans observe and appreciate the world. But whatever.

In book 2, Dex and Mosscap return to Dex's society, and the book seems to want to explain how the world works, and oh my GOD is Chambers not prepared to do this.

"Observe and appreciate" is all anyone is asked to do. Book 2, A Prayer for the Crown-Shy, is an ode to ultimate virtue of Doing Nothing. There's this attitude I see in a LOT of utopian fiction, where the author is bluntly just not a good enough author to imagine a utopian society where people act like people, so in the world of Panga, utopian society is achieved through 1) homogeneity 2) no one giving a crap about anything.

As far as I can tell, there is the one religion. Most people are Fine with this. Most people are Fine with anything. There are no characters with distinct personalities. There's no money, except there is, except it's not real money and no one will deny you anything if your balance is in the red, even though your balance is available to be seen by anyone - this does not cause any kind of shame or pride or competition in any way, and Dex doesn't understand why it might. There are no hierarchies or governing bodies, people just volunteer to step up when things need doing (this is portrayed as great and not deeply concerning). There are different communities, but in them, everyone is uniformly nice, friendly, and helpful at all times. There are some parts of nature, like the seashore, where people are not allowed to go because they'll ruin the environment, and this is accepted as correct and necessary. Most people live in hippie, pro-recycling, high-tech, end-of-history green communities; there's one group they visit, however, that doesn't trust technology, and lives in a vaguely sci-fi-Amish way. You might think, Dex travelling around with a robot, this might cause conflict! It does not. The people from this community calmly explain their anti-technology position, Dex calmly explains their pro-technology position, and they politely respect each other. "Not bothered either way" is a phrase that turns up in various permutations a lot and is held up as the good, mature, responsible way to be.

There's a scene where they catch a fish for dinner, and instead of killing it, the scifi-Amish guy says "We let the air do that for us, and they let the fish slowly suffocate to death in the air while they all look on solemnly and sadly. This is portrayed as a deep, beautiful moment of them witnessing and honoring the final moments of a living being's life. And not. y'know. them torturing a living being to death so they can keep their own hands clean.

This is what I mean about the valorization of passivity: observing is all you are ever obligated to do. Letting a fish die in the air is better than killing it quickly and humanely, because doing things gets your hands dirty, while letting things simply happen is the Correct way to do it.

At the end, Mosscap and Dex blow off all their promises and appointments and just hang out at the beach chilling out instead, because do what you want forever, you don't have to do shit. This is the happy affirming ending. Mosscap you fucking said you'd meet with the city leaders as the robot ambassador to the humans, did you tell them you were blowing off this commitment because you didn't feel like doing that anymore??? Did you even let them know??????

It is SUCH a baffling book. The theme wants to be "you are more than your job, you deserve to just Be" and ends up feeling like "you don't have to do anything ever, and no one can make you do anything you don't want to do if you don't feel like it, and you don't owe anyone anything and searching for a purpose in your life is just making you stressed out so chill at the beach instead."

The thing that drives me crazy is like. Mosscap cheerfully tells Dex about robots that spend twenty years in a cave watching stalactites form because they think it's beautiful, and those robots are just as much a valued part of society as anyone else. Appreciating beauty and wonder is good enough, you don't need to be productive. And I'm just. fuckin. like. Humans are not robots! Robots don't need to eat or sleep! Humans need food, and clothes, and shelter, and medical care, and if we don't have SOMEONE working to provide that, we Die! Nice as it would be, we CAN'T just all do nothing forever until we feel like it! We can't do that!

And at the same time, the book bizarrely treats wanting a purpose in life as like... almost disordered. If you are seeking a purpose in life it's because you just haven't let go of your guilt and relaxed enough. It's bizarre. Valorization of passivity. Humans aren't meant to be in nature so we just Shouldn't. Doing nothing and having no strong opinions is the most self-affirmed you can possibly be. Letting a fish suffocate is more moral than quickly breaking its neck or spiking its brain. Someone else will do it. Who, if we're all supposed to be resting and only doing what we feel like? Don't worry about it.

"The heart of this book is comfort [...] There is nothing in it that can hurt you." YOU LIAR BECKY CHAMBERS THE FISH SCENE STILL DISTURBS AND UPSETS ME TO THIS DAY

[arminsumi]

★ Nanami Kento is on a dating app

★ Pairings : fem reader / Nanami Kento

★ Synopsis : Gojo and his students make Nanami a dating profile without him knowing. And he passes on all the profiles except yours, which catches his interest. So the two of you go on a dinner date and hit it off.

★ Content : fluff, humor

★ Warnings : 🔞 MDNI/18+, smutty/suggestive, light angst

"Okay, what else can we add?" Yuji asked.

"He's friends with the handsome Gojo Satoru." Gojo said, peering into the phone.

"—Friends with the handsome Gojo Satoru. Okay. Got it. How tall is Nanamin again? Gotta have height, it's important."

Gojo thought for a moment, "Six and a half feet."

"Okay! Aaand voilà; Nanami Kento is now online." Yuji finished up Nanami's profile.

Yuji and Gojo high-fived to celebrate their efforts.

Megumi looked up from his own phone, "He's gonna kill the both of you once he finds out about this. You know he's allergic to his phone."

"Hush, Megumi, you helped us commit this crime. You added the "bad at texting" part didn't you?" Gojo said.

"What — you added that!? I was just stating a fact, you idiots!" Megumi cringed.

What was the meaning of this? Well.

Yuji, Megumi and Gojo were worried about Nanami's recent gloom. He'd just called it quits with his wife a year ago, and only now was he really starting to feel the impact of heartbreak. Though he remained pretty stoic about it, Gojo picked up on his gloominess.

They decided that he needed to start dating again, to get out into the world and meet potential soulmates, so that maybe he could realize there are plenty of fish in the sea. Of course, none of them had been married. They didn't really understand that he couldn't just "go out and try again" after being married to someone for 5 years.

Gojo had come up with the idea of secretly making Nanami a profile on a dating app.

Oh boy, when Nanami found out...

"Satoru what the fu—"

"—You have sooo many requests just look through 'em at least! Promise me you'll go on at least one date, okay? ATTA BOY!"

"You're seriously annoying." Nanami sighed.

So he looked through the profiles of people who sent him requests. He frowned so intensely that frown lines formed on his aging skin.

He kept deleting request after request, barely paying more than two seconds of interest to the icons let alone the profiles. Nanami was thinking judgmentally about each profile.

Then his thumb stopped moving. He stared and paid attention to your icon when it showed up.

He read your profile.

YOU

Bio : I like reading. Dilf-enjoyer. Need a beach vacation that lasts the rest of my life. 🥲 My friends forced me to make a profile.

Then he looked at your profile icon closer, zooming in on your face. You weren't smiling in the picture.

Gojo peered over and opened his big mouth;

"Ah, not her — she looks like a party pooper with that kinda frown."

A frown. He accepted your request. Gojo seemed totally confused.

Your phone buzzed.

🔔 LOVEHIVE

↳ NANAMI KENTO ACCEPTED YOUR REQUEST

↳ 1 NEW MESSAGE FROM NANAMI KENTO

Kento : Hello. How are you. Sorry about the weird profile description. My annoying friend Gojo and his students made this profile without my knowledge.

You scrunch your face in confusion and laugh. You've just finished your nightly routine and stroked lotion on your freshly shaven legs when you receive this message from Nanami.

He waits, tapping his foot on the cold kitchen floor as he drinks a glass of wine — languidly and sophisticatedly.

You : haha it's no problem. why did you accept my request?

Kento : I don't know. I liked the fact you were frowning in your profile picture. It resonated with me.

You : 😂 oh thanks. love that

Kento : What about you? Why did you send me a request?

You : your description was a perfect match so my friend sent the request.

Kento : Same friend who made you make this profile?

You : yeah 😭 to be fair tho... we do match. we're practically made for each other.

Kento : Yup. "Aspiring dilf" and "dilf-enjoyer". Legendary romance in the making.

You and Nanami kept talking... huh. Go figure.

An hour and a half went by without Nanami even realizing — he was texting, something he genuinely hated doing and only ever did out of necessity for work. And usually he ignored messages from friends, especially that idiot Gojo.

But Nanami wandered around his penthouse, texting you, chuckling to himself and smiling at your texts until his dimples and smile lines showed up.

You : alright then. see you tomorrow at 5:30 pm yes? you can cancel if you change your mind or don't feel well.

Kento : Yes sure. Same to you. Don't feel pressured.

You both said goodnights... but then talked a little more.

Then another hour later, Nanami finally got into bed.

He slipped into the silky, satin sheets after completing his nightly routine. His was a little different to yours — he had no interest in skincare so that part was entirely neglected. You'd talked to him about your routine.

Nanami thought as he stared at the ceiling; maybe she can introduce me to some magic products that take away these dark circles.

Usually when he falls asleep, he thinks about all the problems in his life and all the pending, imminent work that he has to complete the next day. Even if it was the weekend coming, or a holiday, nothing cured his need to work. Gojo called him a workaholic, but that wasn't entirely true. Deep down, Nanami really just needed that big vacation.

And the date with you was like a type of vacation.

Now, listen, when he first saw you standing there waiting for him in the slight drizzle, his gentleman guilt ate him up.

"I'm so sorry. The traffic wouldn't budge." he apologized immediately. "Get inside, you'll get sick."

This man was by far the biggest gentleman you'd ever met. Before even saying hello, he already showed care by steering you out of the rain.

You sat across from him, and easing into the conversation was awkward — because he tried to break the ice by asking you which books you enjoyed reading, and you replied honestly.

"I uh... so do you know this app?" you pulled out your phone, giggling, "I read on here. Usually smut."

"What's smut?" he asked.

You burst out laughing, thinking it was the funniest thing in the world to tell this to someone you'd just met. He got your humor, although it confused him — what's smut? You didn't explain. He figured it out for himself.

Well, the ice was certainly broken.

The two of you talked over a bottle of wine. The night deepened. You felt a bit out of place in this fancy restaurant. No other men had taken you to such an exquisite place before.

"What music do you listen to?" you asked conversationally.

"Uh," he thought for a moment, "Lots of Billie Holiday. Does that make me sound like an old man?" he chuckled awkwardly.

"Not at all." you replied.

"I just like relaxing to that music." he said.

"What else? Any music that isn't from the dinosaur age?" you asked.

There's a slightly flirty edge in your voice that he picks up on. He doesn't know what to do. He tries to sound flirty back.

"Hey now don't be rude... I'm still in my twenties."

"In your twenties... and you enjoy dinosaur music." you teased.

You pulled out his first smile of the night. His smile lines and subtle dimples showed up.

He got the hang of flirting. It had been a while, so it took some easing into. He hadn't been romantic since... well. You know.

"So, you're divorced?" you asked sensitively.

"Yeah. Have been for a year now." he nods.

He started circling his thumb on the rim of his wine glass. He couldn't meet your gaze — your eyes made him feel entranced.

"Do you mind if I pry?" you asked. "I just want to know why it didn't work out. I mean, personally, I'm scared of marriage and I don't think I'll ever tie the knot with anyone."

Nanami chuckled, "Scared of marriage? I understand. If I could offer you any advice for getting ready to marry... I'd say choose your men like you'd choose wine." he advised.

Then he continued, "Anyways, she cheated on me. I mean, I saw it coming and I could have ended it sooner so I don't know why I held on for so long and talked it out with her. I think I just wanted to believe that the one I loved wasn't a bad person. But she was."

"Oh. That's heavy. Are you doing okay?" you asked.

Nanami finally looked up at you and made lingering eye contact.

"Nothing wine can't fix — kidding. I'm doing my best. I mean, truthfully, if it weren't for my work to keep me busy I think I'd just sulk around the house in my slippers." he said.

"You shouldn't sulk in your slippers, you should sink your feet into sand." you said. "Get that vacation in Malaysia."

His mouth spread into a dimply smile at this.

"Well, if I go on vacation, I feel it would be right to bring you with. As attractive as you look with a frown, I'd like to see you smiling." he said.

Your cheeks warmed up. "Gee, I'd love to go on a vacation with you... but I've only just met you. What if you're a serial killer?"

He chuckled, "I work a nine to five job and listen to Billie Holiday. Does that spell "serial killer" to you?" he asked rhetorically.

"Maybe." you joked, "I'm sure lots of serial killers work nine to five jobs and listen to Billie Holiday."

He laughed again. You admired his dimples. Suddenly, you remembered something funny about his profile.

"So, what about that "aspiring dilf" part of your bio?" you asked humorously.

"Oh, are you intrigued by that?" he flirted, "I'm sure it was my friend Gojo who added that. I swear, I mentioned to him just once that I wanted to have a family, and he interpreted me as an... "aspiring dilf"."

Your lips curled into a smirking smile that made Nanami's stomach muscles tense up.

"Well if it counts, I like the process of baby making. Don't know about having a huge family, though." you said.

Nanami blinked and became completely flustered by what you had said. He was taking a sip of wine and nearly choked on it.

"Good to know." he replied. "Can't say I feel the same about the process of baby making, though."

"Why is that?" you asked.

You and Nanami talked about sex over dessert. He distractedly nibbled on his tiramisu.

"... my first times for everything were really awkward. Not bad. Just jarringly awkward. And then with my wife, she seemed a bit disappointed in me for not being sexually inclined. Probably part of the reason she went off with my co-worker, you know."

You listened to him, and he was thrilled to feel so at ease. It was just the first date and yet he could be so raw with you.

"Well, my first time was awful." you reminisced, then went on to talk about your first times.

Nanami nodded slowly, then spoke up, "Maybe you just needed a more experienced man to take care of you properly."

You squeezed your thighs together tighter and felt your skin flush hot.

"Maybe. Do you know a guy?" you joked flirtatiously.

Nanami smiled bashfully. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be too forward there."

"Not at all. I'd love to try with an experienced man who knows how to treat me right." you murmured.

You leaned over the table, looking up into his eyes.

Nanami reciprocated your sultriness. His heart was beating faster, and he stopped eating his tiramisu.

"... how do you want to be treated?" he asked.

"... well, I'd love a strong gentleman to grab me by the hair... and give me his babies."

Nanami's breath hitched. He had a tent forming in his pants, his cock was squished against his inner thigh getting longer as it got harder.

"... I think I can do that." he replied breathlessly.

He felt a small shiver when you brought your hand up to his cheek to caress it. Just that small touch sparked so much inside him.

By the time he paid the bill, his boner was calming down. But when you said goodbye to him and caught your taxi, you did something that made his cock stiffen again.

You got on your tiptoes and planted an appreciative kiss on his dimple.

"Thank you for showing me a good time." you murmured into his ear.

He swallowed hard, "Of course... thank you for being good company."

"Mhm. Look forward to keeping you company again."

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

[dioslesbianwife]

That one post from a while ago about saving diavolo from the death loop inspired me

Could you do something similar but with Kars and reader who can fly to space (like a stand power or something) and just comes across this weird floating man-like rock and decides to bring him back to Earth?

Could you throw in some domestic headcannons? And how long it would take him to warm up to reader?

sure, kars and diavolo had the worst fates so it's nice to rewrite them a lil haha, anyway hope u enjoy and thank you for requesting <3

🪐

Your Stand lets you defy gravity and fly through space freely, with a little protective aura like your own pressure-safe bubble.

You’re just out there vibing one night, checking out space dust and planets, when you notice this weird rock formation.

It’s humanoid. Naked. Floating. And even though it’s totally frozen and inanimate, it has this weird aura about it like it’s... thinking.

You’re like ‘ok he kinda looks like a hot statue. I’m taking him home.’

You literally just drag his frozen ass back to Earth like a weird cosmic pet rock.

🌍

It takes a while- being trapped for millennia does a number on your body, even if you’re immortal.

He first unfreezes just enough to open his eyes while you’re talking to him like a plant in your apartment. “Well, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I fed the neighbor’s cat today. That was fun.”

His voice is hoarse when he first speaks. “...Who… dares…”

And you drop whatever you’re holding and yell “OH YOU’RE ALIVE?”

Kars is disoriented, furious, confused- but also very, very cold. Literally. You have to heat towels and wrap them around him.

Month 1:

Silent. Watches you constantly. Doesn’t sleep.

Stares out the window like he’s planning to destroy the planet.

You try to make him tea and he glares at the cup like “You dare offer the Ultimate Lifeform chamomile?”

Will not eat unless you bring it and walk away. Hates feeling weak.

He hates everything right now.

Month 2–3:

Starts asking questions. “What… year is it?” “What is… a toaster?”

You catch him watching cartoons at 3 AM because he’s trying to learn modern humanity. He refuses to admit this.

“Do not look at me.” “But you’re watching Clifford and eating peanut butter out of the jar.” “DO NOT LOOK AT ME.”

Begins to realize you're not interested in using him or hurting him. Starts relaxing around you.

Month 4–6:

Speaks more often. Gets curious about you. “Why did you bring me back?” “...You looked lonely.”

Is secretly very touched by that but doesn't know how to express gratitude like a normal person.

Starts following you room to room like a tall, broody cat.

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

He’s obsessed with technology.

Can’t believe microwaves exist.

Thinks your fridge is a mystical cold box.

You show him a hair dryer and he stares at it like it’s a weapon.

Once binge-watched Forged in Fire and tried to recreate a sword in your kitchen. You banned him from metalworking indoors after that.

Tries to help with chores but he’s bad at being gentle.

Sweeps too hard and breaks the broom in half.

He gets really sulky after breaking something, but you just pat his shoulder like “It’s okay. You tried.”

His favorite activity = laying near you like a territorial dragon.

Doesn’t cuddle. Not at first.

But he will sit next to you extremely close like a gargoyle guarding his hoard (which is you).

Eventually… EVENTUALLY… he will rest his head on your lap if he’s tired or overstimulated.

He never says “I love you.” But he says things like:

“You are the only being in this universe whose existence I find tolerable.”

When he’s overwhelmed by the weight of time and identity and immortality, he goes quiet and curls up in the softest blankets in the house.

You find him there, in a nest of pillows, blinking slowly like a very sad, very confused child.

You speak softly to him. Rub his back. Let him hide from the world until he feels strong again.

[storiesfromafan]

I'm Sorry Baby - Benny x Reader

A/N: I am back! And with Part 4 of my Spitfire series. This one was fun to write...as I am throwing myself into a bit of smut 😅

Also, want to thank @strayrockette for reading and advising on my attempt at smut 😂 I appricate her opinion.

Warning: my attemtp at smut after 10+ years, which even then might not have been good. So please, go easy on me 😅 also, might be grammer and spelling mistakes.

Tag list: tagging those that previously comment, in case you were looking forward to the next part haha.

@redwitchbitch1 @bellesdreamyprofile @cherryaustin

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

A few days after his return, and you pretty much throwing him out, Benny had been staying in a motel. He had been thinking everything over, trying to work out how to get back in your good graces. So, here he was at the bar, currently sitting with Johnny. With a short glass in hand, half full of amber liquid, Benny's poison of choice. He was having a talk with the one person he could talk too. One married man to another.

“What did ya expect, kid? Her to welcome ya back with open arms?” Johnny chuckled taking a sip from his glass.

“Nuh...but I didn’t think I’d get the door shut in my face” Benny sighed.

Johnny softly laughed. “She’s hurtin’. If ya could have heard her” – a look of guilt crossed Benny’s face – “Well, ya get what I mean...”

Benny nodded, taking a sip from his glass, eyes looking off into a void.

“Look kid” Johnny began, sitting up and leaning in, “woman are tricky. Wives are trickier. In a relationship there is two of ya. Not just you, or her. The two of ya. Yeah, she told ya to leave. But it was you who made that choice”.

Again, Benny nodded his head.

“But I’m not sayin' it’s your fault. It’s both of ya's fault in some way. Why hadn’t you been goin’ home at a decent hour?”

Benny shrugged. “Dunno, I’ve always been here, I guess...”

“You guess?” Questioned the Vandal leader. “You’re crazy about the spitfire, yeah?”

“Yeah” was all Benny said.

“Then you should have been goin' home to her. The club will still be here the next day. The knuckleheads will still be knuckleheads. But your woman, she ain’t somethin’ to take for granted” Johnny pointed his finger at Benny as he said that.

And he knew Johnny was right. Benny was crazy for you, had been since he saw you. He was crazy for your sass and attitude, for your fire. But also your caring and warmness to him. You were something special, something he had taken for granted. Benny was determined to get you back, one way or another. He would fight for you, fight for your relationship.

“What do I have to do to get her back?” Benny asked the older Vandal.

“I’d say get on ya knees and grovel” Johnny downed the last of his drink. “A woman with her spirit, she ain’t gonna just roll over. Your gonna have to show her what she means to ya. Or pray for a miracle”.

Getting up, Johnny patted Benny on the back laughing. He knew his younger Vandal was in for a fun time. But he wished him luck, and hoped it all worked out. Benny stared at the last of the liquid in his glass, before downing it and placing the glass on the table. Now he had to think of what he could do to win you back.

Finally it was closing time at the salon. Your feet were aching, and you had a small headache from listening to client after client either gossip or complain about life. You loved your job, but women could be so catty. And then there was Benny, and his reappearance a couple days ago. How it weighed on your mind and heart.

Betty had called you last night to let you know where he’d been staying, and how he was going. Apparently she’d seen him that day and he didn’t seem himself, lost in his thoughts. And that he hadn’t gone to the bar for long. She thinks he was riding most of the night, or back in his motel room. She believes he was thinking of you, and your relationship. You thanked her for the information before ending the call.

Part of you felt guilty, and missed him like crazy. But that fire in you wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine, for him to realise what he did and learn a lesson. You helped the owner clean up while she handled the till and books. You both conversed on the day in the shop, laughing at bits of gossip you’d both learned about other clients.

“So, how are you doing?” Sophia – salon owner – asked peering over at you, as you swept.

“Yeah, I’m alright” you replied off handedly.

Sophia nodded. “I heard Benny’s back, I take it he came home?”

You nodded. “Yeah...but I didn’t let him back in. I need my space”.

With that you collected the hair and moved to the back, where you’d dispose of it. The conversation done with, for now. Sophia wasn’t blind. She’d see how the week without your husband effected you. And how closed in and shut off you’d been. But Sophia also saw how happy you’d been when you got with Benny. Compared to your ex, this relationship was much better and you were the happiest she’d seen you.

With all the end of day chores done, you and Sophia headed out the front door. You were the last, closing the door and locking it for your boss. She always struggled to get the lock secure, so you just do it, since it seemed to like you. Sometimes you’d even be the one to lock up, and gave Sophia an early mark.

“Well, that’s a sight for sore eyes” Sophia said softly.

You’d just secured the lock, before turning to the woman, that was looking to across the road. Following her gaze you were greeted to the sight of your husband, who was leant against his parked bike. It reminded you of when he’d pick you up after work, seeing him after you’d finish work. How he'd light up when seeing you coming towards him, and how you’d greet him with a sweet kiss. But now you weren’t sure what to do.

“Are you gonna go to him?” Sophia questioned, turning back to you.

You shook your head before heading to your car, Sophia followed, as her car was next to you. Once coming to the cars she stopped you, she gave you a soft, small smile.

“Look Hun, can I give you some advice?” – You nodded for her to go – “there will always be fights in a relationship. But I know how much that man means to you, and no doubt it’s the same for him. So, don’t let this fight stop you from being with him, alright?”

You let her words sink in before slowly nodding your head. “I’ll try not to Sophia...but right now, I need some time...”

She nodded. “I know, but don’t take too long. He’s too good looking to stay away from” she teased with a wink, which made you softly laugh.

You hadn’t laughed in a little while at a teasing remark about Benny. Maybe you were already beginning to get over it. But you would give it a little more time till you were completely ready to have Benny back in your house and your bed. With a see you tomorrow, you both got in your cars and left. Briefly you looked to Benny as you drove out of the car park, and headed home.

Benny had watched the whole time you left the salon, to getting to your car. He could see how you and your boss talked, and saw how the woman had looked to him first. And when you looked to him, he felt his breath catch in his chest. You didn’t look mad or upset, it was more a blank stare at him. And he understood you still needed time. But he would make sure to be close by, keeping an eye on you and looking out for you, ready for whenever you needed him. It was one way to show you he was there, and not going anywhere from now on.

The little things will show how I care, he told himself.

Benny watched you drive off, not moving to go after you, not yet anyways. Taking out a cigarette, he placed it between his lips before lighting it up. Taking a long drag, he removed the cigarette before releasing the smoke. Benny smoked the cigarette but didn’t enjoy it as much as he usually would, it was just a way to distract himself and fill time. It was you that he was craving more then the cigarette. Craved your attention, your smile, your lips, your warmth. He craved you wholly.

The following day you arrived at work just before nine, you knocked on the door and Sophia let you. With a morning to each other, you put away your bag and got ready for your day to begin. It was going to be a relative busy day, which you didn’t mind. It was yourself, Sophia and another woman named Ella. Between the three of you, you could get a good amount done.

When your first client showed up, an older woman who was a bit of a stick in the mud, you wasted no time in getting her set up in your chair. Draping the cape over her, you made pleasantries. Though you know she did not like you, just your work. She was a stuck up woman, who you knew talked about you behind your back. But you did your best work, that way she couldn't run you down on it.

It was just after ten, the salon bustling with activity, when a delivery man came into the shop, in his hand a lovely bunch of flowers. He stepped into the shop, a little shyly. You watched him in the mirror before you, thinking those flowers had to be from Sophia's husband for her.

Sophia spoke to the young man, taking the flowers before thanking him. He didn't waste time to leave the shop and move on to his next delivery. One of the clients, being nosey, asked Sophia if they were hers. She was looking at the beautiful flowers before spotting a card. A look of surprise crossed her face, before a small smile crossed her lips.

“Mrs Carpenter, I wish they were, but they're not for me" mused Sophia.

All the women in the shop looked to Sophia, then around at each other. All wondering which of them they were for. Some probably hoped their husbands had sent them flowers on a whim, to surprise and cheer them up as they got their hair done. But they’d be wrong.

With the flowers in hand Sophia stepped around from the counter. She moved across the room and came to stand beside you. She was smiling at you as she looked at you in the mirror. They were for you. You should have guessed from the various flowers that you liked, making up the arrangement.

“Seems these are yours Hun" commented Sophia, holding out the flowers for you. “Why don't you go put them in some water out the back. And read the card. I'll take over for you while you're gone".

Reluctantly you finished cutting the piece of hair you held in your fingers. “Ah, sure...” you replied, unsure and uneasy.

Taking the flowers from your boss, you slowly moved from the floor and into the back. All the time questioning who would have sent you flowers? You didn't wait, taking the card from the flowers and laying them on the counter by the sink. You held the small envelop in your hand, reading your name before turning it over. You took a moment, looking at it once more before shakily opening the seal.

Slowly you removed the card, and taking a breath before finally reading what it said:

Flower's for my girl, my wife.

I hope they brighten your day,

Just like you will always brighten mine.

Love Benny.

Your heart skipped a beat reading his words. Words that he couldn't always say. Word's he knew you needed to read. For Benny knew how your days at the salon could be. He had seen how you come home, tired and drained. How you would have good days and bad days. He would listen to you tell him about the bitchiest women, who were the worst to deal with. But also how joyous you were when you had a day of nothing but sweet, lovely women.

Benny sent you a reminder that you were the brightest thing in his life, just as he was yours. You smiled softly, clutching the card delicately in your hand. Your chest aching with thoughts of your husband, and missing him. Maybe it was time to start working on getting your relationship back on track. Yes, this was the start. But you would make sure that man knew he had some serious work to do if he wanted you back completely.

Fixing up the flowers in a make shift vase. You walked back onto the salon shop floor, silence rolling in when you came back. All eyes watching you as you placed the flowers on the front counter. They noticed the sparkle in your eyes, along with a small smile on your lips.

“Take it the contents of that card were good, huh?” Teased Sophia, various women giggling.

You rolled your eyes. “If you must know, it was...”

Sophia smiled brightly and giggled. “Guess he made a good peace offering".

“It's a start" you retorted before taking back over working on your client, leaving Sophia to go off to do what she had to do.

Locking up on your own tonight, you noticed no Benny waiting across the road today. Which surprised you. None the less you got into your car and drove home, the radio on softly and you hummed along. Your flowers were sitting on the seat next to you, every time you looked at them you would smile softly. You wondered where Benny was. Was he at the bar? Would you have to go to him? Or could he have changed his mind?

Turning onto your street, you slowly came closer to your house. Your concerns and worries died away upon seeing the person on your mind. He had parked his bike across the road, again he was resting against it. As you pulled into the drive way, you could see him watching you, cigarette between his lips.

Benny had chosen to wait for you at your shared home. He knew to wait outside rather then just waltzing inside. He didn't want to upset you, especially after sending you flowers at work. It could have got either way, in his favour or made it worse. He hadn’t long lit a cigarette and taken a few drags, before your car turned onto the street. He watched as you approached, and turned into the drive way. But Benny never moved, he was going to see if you would invite him in, back into the house and into your arms.

Getting out of the driver seat, you leant back in and grabbed the flowers. Once you were out and the door closed, you looked to Benny. Still he lent against the bike, but he straightened up once seeing the flowers in your hand. Looking to them, you brought them closer to you. After that you walked up the few stairs to the porch – the same ones Benny climbed before you slammed the door in his face – and came to the front door. You used your keys to unlock the door and pushed it open.

Crossing the threshold, you paused a moment. Then you turned around to look at your husband. You kept your face blank, but there was a calmness to it. You looked at Benny for a few minutes before closing the door, but kept it propped open. It was a way to tell him that if he wanted, he could come in. You were calm and ready to talk.

You crossed the lounge room and entered the kitchen. Placing your bag on the counter by the door way, you moved over to the sink. You placed the flowers down before fetching a glass vase. You proceeded to put some water into it, then began to undo the wrapping to the flowers.

Mean while, Benny had watched your every move from car to front door. When you stood in the door way looking to him, he was silently hoping you would call out to him to come in. When you didn't, and began to close the door, Benny thought he would have to try again tomorrow. But when the door was left open a bit, he released the breath he had been holding. Hope bubbled in him.

Benny stood up from his position against the bike, stretching out his arms as he began to walk towards the house. Taking one last drag of the cigarette, Benny removed it from his lips and flicking it away. The smoke slipping from his lips as he walked up the path to the stairs. Up he went, boots landing on the porch. He stood there for a moment, taking a deep breath before pushing the front door open slowly.

You weren't in the lounge room, but he could hear you moving around the kitchen. He closed the door before taking off his jacket and hanging it up the door. Benny crossed the room to the kitchen, stopping in the doorway. He lent against the wood frame, watching you silently.

You had most of the flowers in the vase, you were just putting the remaining in and moving them around when you felt his eyes on you. It sent a shiver down your spine. Who would speak first? How would this all go?

When you had finished, you picked up the vase and moved to place it by the window on the counter. You would figure out where to put them later, for now you had to have a conversation with your husband.

“Do you like them?” Benny softly asked, when you placed them down and stared at them.

“Yes" you replied, “I like them a lot, actually...”

He nodded, though you couldn’t see it. “Good...I remember you sayin’ how you liked those kinds of flowers...”

It was awkward, but it was something, right? To know Benny remembered what flowers you liked, it showed he had been listening. And he did, majority of the time. Slowly you turned around, choosing to lean against the counter. For the first time in days you took a good hard look at Benny.

He looked tired, maybe he hadn’t been sleeping properly. His clothes – different to what you’d last seen him in – were deeply wrinkled, most likely worn when sleeping or trying to sleep. From the way he was leaning, you could tell Benny was uneasy. Not because of you, but for what could happen between you right now. He was guarded, yet trying to keep his defences down just enough so you in turn would let yours down. You could tell he didn't want to fight, he wanted to sort this out like adults. No more running, for either of you.

“...I’m sorry for leavin' baby" Benny said, breaking the silence. “I shouldn’t have taken off like I did. Nor did I want to worry ya".

You nodded your head. “I know...”

“When I bring up leavin'...its somethin' in me that switches when a fight gets too much" Benny tried to explain. “I know its not an excuse, but I want ya to understand. But I promise I wont do it again...if I do, you can kick me out".

You chuckled. “Like I'd want you to go...” you said softly. “But Benny...you gotta know it did hurt. You just up and goin', no word of where ya were or if you were alright. I was worried sick".

Benny moved from the door frame to you, but stopped himself from pulling you to him, to hold you close and kiss away the hurt he caused. He looked at you with soft, guilty eyes. Waiting for you to give him the ok that he could touch you, hold you.

“I’m sorry for worryin' you, baby. If I could take it back, I would" Benny said softly, hands itching to rub up and down your arms.

“I know Benny...” your voice was soft, fragile. You looked at your husband with hurt eyes, only killing him more. You then looked to his hands and back to his baby blues. That was all Benny needed, for he stepped closer and pulled you to him.

Benny wrapped his arms around you, holding you closely to him for the first time in what felt like forever. Having you close felt right. You rested your head against his chest, your hands gripping his t-shirt. A few tears, that you hadn’t realised that had risen, escaped down your cheeks, they a mix of hurt but happiness.

“I’m sorry baby" Benny whispered into your hair.

You stood there for a few minutes, just letting Benny hold you and whisper sweet things into your ear. You felt better. You felt a part of you healing. Just like it was for Benny. Reluctantly Benny pulled back, moving to look at your face. Seeing the remints your tears left, he brought a hand up and whipped them away.

“Benny, you know we need to have a long talk, right?” You questioned softly, afraid he might get spooked.

He nodded. “I know, baby. I am ready for it...”

So, with a deep breath and standing where you were, not waiting to leave his space, you began. You told him how you'd been feeling, how him staying out effected you. That you wanted him to come home more, but not to take him away from the club. Benny heard you, he agreed to it. He told you how he adored that you respected his ties with the Vandals, and not trying to entirely change him, which made you laugh. Music to his ears after so long. Benny didn't ask much of you, as you had been perfect the whole time.

“I guess Johnny was right...” muttered Benny as he moved from you, as you crossed to the kitchen door way.

“Hmm?” you asked turning back to Benny.

“Johnny...I spoke to him the other day. I asked him what to do" Benny paused, gauging your reaction, with a nod he knew to go on. “He said I should grovel, or show ya what you mean to me...”

You held in a laugh at the suggestion of grovelling. “Is that why you sent flowers?”

He nodded, “but I meant them and what I wrote, baby. As well as watchin’ out for you, I wanted you to know I wasn't goin’ anywhere".

You smiled softly, moving to stand before your man. You cupped his cheek with one hand, thumb stroking his stubbled jaw. It was rough but soothing. You enjoyed feeling of it rubbing against your skin, be it your cheek, neck, inner thighs.

You moved your hand to back of Benny's head, gripping it firmly. You stared into his eyes. “I wouldn't mind you on your knees...but not necessarily grovellin’...”

You saw realisation flash in Benny's eyes when your words sunk in. Holding his head firmly, you pulled your husbands head down. Pulling his lips to meet your own, a firm closed lip kiss. The feeling of his lips against yours feeling like home. You closed your eyes, savouring your lips reuniting.

You moved to grip his hair, pulling a little. Causing Benny to groan in the most delightful way, which you had missed. His hands moved to your hips, pulling you close as he removed his lips for just a moment. Adjusting the angle, Benny brought his lips back to your waiting ones. This time it was a feverish, slightly open mouth kiss. Over and over, short and sweet. But soon Benny went in for a longer, deeper kiss.

He didn't wait for permission, his tongue delving into your mouth, seeking out your own. Tongues colliding, caressing the other in a fast paced dance. You moaned into his mouth, which only made Benny return with his own. Stepping forward, Benny backed you up against the small table in the kitchen. The edge digging into your backside. Without breaking the kiss, Benny picked you up and set you on the tables edge.

Your other hand moving to cradle is cheek, while its partner ran threw his hair before pulling it occasionally. That only spurred Benny on further. His hands moved to your slacks, unbuttoning them and pulling down the zipper. Pulling away from the kiss, you both took a moment to get some much needed air. And in that time Benny silently instructed you to lift your hips. You did, and he removed both your slacks and underwear, leaving you sitting in bare from the waist down.

Benny wasted no time falling to his knees, as you both had mentioned. This kind of grovelling was not for forgiveness, but for your own pleasure. Benny would worship every part of you, if it would make you happy.

His rough hands moved up your calf muscles, slowly over your thighs, pushing them open wider. His eyes drinking in the sight before him, Benny placed kisses along the inside of your thighs before coming to his destination. Slowly – tongue flat – he licked at the opening of your sex. Tongue finding your hard nub, applying the right amount of pressure as he caressed it. You moaned, head tilting back, as one hand moved to Benny's hair.

Benny worshipped you with his tongue, bringing moans and praises from your lips. When he would change movements with his tongue, you would pull his hair lightly, encouraging him further. Then when he added a finger inside of you, and then a second after sometime, he had you a mess upon the table. Your free hand moved to clutch the edge of the table, trying to ground yourself. Your man knew how to worship at your alter.

“I-I need you, baby" you managed to get out, between moans.

Reluctantly, Benny moved his head back. His baby blues, now dark with desire, staring at you as he licked his lips, tongue taking in your essence that had been resting there. After a brief moment of watching you, he rose to his feet, standing between your legs. Without delay, your hands moved to Benny's jeans. Undoing the button before pulling down the zipper. You pushed his jeans and boxers down his hips.

When he was freed from its confines, you wrapped a hand around his member. Slowly moving your hand up and down the shaft. The way Benny's breath caught in his throat, before a small strangled noise came from his parted lips, such noises pleased you. He leant in and captured your lips once more, sloppily and mindlessly at your touch and ministrations.

“Baby, I want you" Benny sighed against your lips.

You hummed in approval. “I want you too".

You guided him to your sex, Benny's hands coming to hold your hips. His tip brushed against your nub, drawing out a moan. He was teasing, but you'd allow it. You brought your hands up to his neck, one resting there while its partner tangled with the hair at the base of his neck.

Finally lining himself entrance, Benny began to enter you. The way he felt, stretching you, you sighed as you gripped his hair. That action cause Benny to buck his hips, finally sheathing himself completely in you. You both moaned in satisfaction of being one again.

Benny moved in, taking your lips into a deep kiss. He drew back his hips before snapping back into you, over and over. At first a gentle pace, but with your hold on his hair and nails at his neck digging in, Benny picked up speed. Before long you were head tilted back, moaning, as your husband slammed into you. His lips upon your neck, sucking and biting, while he too made beautiful sounds.

With the rise in pleasure that Benny was giving you, and feeling, it had to come to an end. The tension rising and twisting in the pit of your stomach. You tightened around him, only adding to Benny's please, and making him move more vigorously.

“Cum for me, baby" Benny said with a groan, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. No doubt there’d be bruises later. “Ya gotta cum for me".

You nodded your head, whimpering at his words.

Benny placed his forehead to your own, his eyes staring deeply into yours. The pressure just building inside you both. Finally he hit that spot, and you tipped over the edge. You cried out, clenching tightly around his member, while you let your release wash over you. With a few more sloppy thrusts, Benny finally found his release. Buried within you, his seed coated your insides. His hands moving to the edge of the table, while catching his breath.

You opened your eyes, which had closed at some point, to look at your husband. He looked gorgeous, breathing heavily, trying to calm down after your vigorous activity. When his baby blues found yours, the smile that graced his perfect lips, melted your heart. You smiled right back at him. You both sharing a tender moment.

Those lips met with yours once more, but this time a chaste kiss. Pulling back, Benny reluctantly removed himself from you, which made you whimper at the lose. But with a promise that he'd gladly make it up to you later, you giggled with joy.

You watched as Benny pulled his boxers and jeans back up, fastening them before turning to you. He helped you down from the table, legs a little shaky from how well he had taken care of you. With some work and help, you had your own underwear and slacks back on. You kissed Benny's cheek to say thank you.

“Remind me to thank Johnny" you said off handily.

“Why's that baby?” Benny asked, confused.

You smirked. “For givin’ you the idea to grovel" was your reply before laughing.

Benny shook his head, pulling you close to him. “Oh”.

“And Benny" you said after a moment of silence. He waited for you to go on. “Next time you leave me, and hurt me, I will castrate you". Then you chuckled.

Benny softly laughed. “But what about kid's, baby. I'm gonna need them”.

Wrapped in his arms, you pondered Benny's words. “That is true...I will just take one then. You can give me kid's with just one, after all".

“Yes ma’am” Benny said in humour.

You both roared into laughter. Though you told him, as you laughed, you were serious. And it would be smart not to test you. Benny just continued to laugh before scooping you up over his shoulder, and carrying you off to your shared bedroom. Not without a small smack to your backside at you sassing him, as he walked up the stairs.

[mammomlette]

OBEY ME YOUNGER BROTHERS AS SOULMATE TROPES!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3(WIP rn)]

Includes: Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor, GN!Reader/MC

Warnings: Spoilers for lesson 16 in Belphies (not explicitly said but obvious foreshadowing for a twist), implied manipulation (Belphies) (not sure if that needs a warning but better safe than sorry)

Notes: I’m still quite new to fanfics and Tumblr, and honestly just writing in my free time in general so constructive criticism is defo encouraged!! Also I won’t lie to you, Satan did seem a tad ooc erm…

SATAN: writing/drawings on hands appear on eachother

* As soon as you turned 18, you noticed small phrases and notes appearing on your right hand

* It started off with small things like “page 562” or “British shorthair.” Just things to keep as a reminder or to be able to search it up later

* However, as time went by, the notes became a bit more… concerning

* Concerning book quotes from old literature, sometimes in other languages, and nefarious plans to prank someone called ‘Lucifer’

* Your soulmate plans to prank the devil himself. Haha. What a great idea.

* You brushed it off for a while, appreciating the occasional cat fact or chapter reminder and just ignoring the angry words about Lucifer.

* Eventually, you began to build up the courage to respond. Small things relating to things your soulmate wrote, like cat doodles (good or bad as your art skill may be) or going over the writing of the reminder when you notice it started to fade

* Not knowing if it was your place to write down your own notes or just not quite having that amount of bravery, you still did those little things to let your soulmate know that hey, you’re there and you’re always reading what they have to say.

* Satan thought he was hallucinating.

* Thousands of years spent just jotting things down to remind himself of things at a later date, frequently on his hand, and suddenly things started to change?

* He had wrote “British shorthair” on his palm in hopes of being able to look it up later, and a few minutes later he looks down to his palm to search it up and sees a… cat?? It’s really not clear. It’s round, with two points on the top of its head… yeah thats a cat.

* He’s become so obsessed he’s hallucinating badly drawn cats, which is probably a cause for concern, so naturally he confides in his brothers about this and is comforted that no he’s not hallucinating, however cats are just randomly appearing on his hand.

* They continue to appear, circles with two triangles, some looking better than others and some with more odd features likes birthday hats or weird outfits

* He finally decided to read up on what could be happening and was quickly met with the term ‘soulmates’

* He had heard of this a long time ago from one of his brothers while he was still young (for a demon) and brushed it off as a fairy tale. Why had his soulmate only started communicating with his just now?

* He moved on eventually and time passed, a new human being introduced to his home and his family.

* It took an embarrassingly long time to realise that his human was also his soulmate, it wasn’t until you were both just chilling in his room and you were doodling something next to some words on your arm that he noticed a cat appearing on his own arm.

* “Look! The cat thing is happening!” He shouted, a lot more emotion out into it that he would’ve liked due to the sheer shock

* You stopped what you were doing and look at his arm, the cat drawing having ceased its being drawn while you stared at the cat, face turning into shock and then seriousness. Because that is the cat that you just drew.

* “Satan.” You said, just staring into his eyes without any expression

* “Yes, MC?” He responded, worried at your monotony. His mouth then gaped open and you showed him your arm, cat half doodled next to the words “page 236, sticky notes needed”

* You both just made dead eye contact for a second before your eyes both began to flick back and forth and your lips slowly started to quiver

* Both of your sweet laughters filled the room, how ironic that such a common book trope would be what flew under Satan’s nose for so long.

ASMODEUS: soulmate telepathy

* Ever since you turned 18, you had been hearing a voice in your head.

* Not necessarily in a concerning way! In the way it happens when you and your soulmate have both turned 18 and can finally communicate.

* At first, you thought that you were hearing things. Things like “Ooo, this would be a great touch to my outfit! ♡” and “Can’t believe my bath wasn’t 3 hours long today…” flooding your mind. Since when were you SO picky about your clothes and hygiene, even when not in the process of dressing or washing? And since when were your baths 3 hours?

* Quickly though, you realised that this voice wasn’t your own. It was a melodic sounding voice that felt like honey and most definitely did not belong to you.

* You had heard from your family growing up and your friends recently that once you had become an adult you would be able to communicate with your soulmate through your thoughts, proof of the bond your souls shared, thoughts intertwining together.

* You found that whenever you were deep in thought and rambling to yourself you’d be met with a “hon, slow down” in your mind or that whenever you were trying to figure out an outfit your soulmate would chime in to offer their expert advice without hesitation

* No hesitation at all, because Asmo had waited his entire life for this.

* Thousands of years of life believing that he had no soulmate, destined to forever be a player

* So long spent reading and gushing over cute romance stories where soulmate meet and finding comfort in romcoms about that very topic, and here he was finally with his own soulmate in his mind

* The way you would thank him for his advice before his mind went quiet from your thoughts again until you later told him how well everything went and the way you would ramble internally to him without even realising you were connected to his mind made his heart flutter, even without your face your voice and soul were beautiful

* One day he had been summoned alongside his brothers to the student council room to welcome the new human exchange student. It was a hassle that could be spent doing something more productive like his skincare or extra time in the bath, but he was still just so excited he had to tell you how excited he was to meet the new human!

* “New human?” You thought, but had no response from your soulmate before you appeared inside of a council room in front of 5 attractive strange men.

* You panicked and were kind of in autopilot mode as a tall man in all red introduced you to your situation and a slightly-less-tall man in black started to introduce you to his brothers

* You still had small responses in your shock, and a certain demon recognised your voice.

* You were immediately snapped out of autopilot when you heard the voice of the second brother you were introduced to, an admitted handsome man with slightly-pink-tinted light brown hair and stunning orangeish eyes said “Oh come now. Really? You should be that you get to introduce such a sweet and charming little brother like me!” And you froze.

* You looked like a deer in headlights to lucifer who was trying to introduce you to a blonde demon, but to Asmo, you looked like the most beautiful creature to ever walk the three realms (asides from himself, naturally) and the only person worthy of him.

* Asmo saw beauty in everyone, but everyone else paled in comparison to your face in this moment and your voice every other previous time he had heard it.

* He looked at you with knowing eyes and your eyes finally softened from your shocked face, finally understanding what he meant earlier by “new human”

* It would take time for you to get used to being in a new world with a demon as your soulmate, it would take time for him to get used to loving someone more intimately than as lust, but you both had eachother and the bond that ties your minds together and that’s all you needed.

BEELZEBUB: you share (some of) your soulmate’s pain

* It was growing unbearable.

* The slight yet constant ache in your stomach, a pit that was never quite full.

* For years you mistook it for your own hunger, not sure if you should be eating more or not

* It was always there, always something that disctracted you whenever you were left alone in silence or trying to sleep at night, always waiting for you to finish a meal just to make you feel that familiar ache again.

* It was just insufferable.

* It wasn’t just the hunger, though. There would be times where your muscles would ache like you had been working out without a proper cool down or your arms felt like they had bruised from defending or blocking against something

* You inquired with your friends about this and were just told that it would be your soulmate. You shared pain with your soulmate, and your soulmate always seemed in pain

* It wasn’t a pain that came from attacks or falling, just a pit that always felt so empty it hurt but could never be filled.

* Was your soulmate starving to death? You wished there was a way to help them, to soothe the pain, but without knowing who they are there was no way to fix it.

* As of present, you had been sent into the devildom a few weeks ago and had began to slowly feel adjusted to the devildom and your roommates and you had grown fond of one in particular: Beelzebub, the avatar of gluttony.

* You sympathised with him and his constant hunger since you yourself always felt a small bit of this hunger, even if you’d learnt by now that it wasn’t yours to fix

* So naturally, you hung a round him more

* You spent time with him whenever you could just because you wanted to, accompanying him to the gym or treating him to Hell’s Kitchen or even just sitting with him when he was lonely and missing his brother who had gone to the human world

* And it felt like every time you gave him the food you were craving so much, that pit in your stomach was filled just a bit

* Always there, never going away, but it felt just that bit more bearable and ignorable for a short while

* Who knew you were such an empath?

* Of course it crossed your mind of that Beel could be your soulmate, but what are the chances? You dismissed the thought whenever it appeared, not wanting to get your hopes up

* However, your hopes were validated one night in the kitchen with Beel.

* You were preparing him a small snack, just cutting up some devildom-style bread for him when you accidentally put your finger down at the wrong time in the wrong place and cut it

* You hissed at the pain, putting down the knife to look at your finger and you thought you heard Beel grunt.

* “MC, are you okay?” He inquired, approaching you to look at your finger while slightly cradling his own for some reason

* “Uh, yeah, I just need a plaster or something, would you mind..?” “Yeah, of course.” He continued to clutch his finger while reaching for the cabinet, letting go for a second to open it and grab you a plaster

* “Are you okay? You’re holding your finger too.” You were slightly worried by his mannerisms even though you didn’t see a cut on his fingers.

* “Yeah, my finger just hurt all of a sudden. It’s fine though. Here, I’ll put the plaster on for you.”

* You fell into comfortable silence as he opened the plaster and began pressing in down, but he pressed down a bit too hard which hurt you, causing both of you to hiss.

* “Seriously Beel, are you okay?” He nodded. “Yeah, it’s just like whenever you get hurt my finger hurts too.”

* Lightbulb. You realised finally that those slight considerations were valid and the connection you felt with Beel was real. The hunger you felt wasn’t yours and the reason it was numbed when you gave him food is because it was his.

* He seemed to have realised this too, because he paused and looked at you, slowly smiling.

* “MC, I just realised something. I think that-“ you cut him off with a kiss, smiling now too.

BELPHEGOR: you have a countdown until your soulmate’s death

* Surely there was an error in the system.

* Call you crazy but you didn’t quite think that 378,691,205,018 seconds is applicable to the human life span.

* You had come to the conclusion that your soulmate was either non-existent and the universe was fucking with you or they were some kind of non human entity and obviously both of these answers were stupid but at least the former was possible.

* You’d grown accepting overtime that you didn’t have a soulmate unlike how most of your friends did and that you’d never have that sort of unconditional love

* Not having a soulmate wasn’t unheard of, just uncommon.

* And you got the short end of the stick. That’s all there was to it.

* UNTIL you got randomly abducted one day into literal hell where pretty much all beings there loved for thousands of years.

* ‘Maybe I have a chance now?’ You crossed the thought out from your mind. First of all, these were demons and most of them had made attempts on your life at some point or another, and secondly almost all of them either a) didn’t have a timer, which meant no soulmate, b) had an insanely high timer that you’d never be able to reach or c) had already found their soulmate

* You sighed to yourself and began to lose hope again, walking up the stairs to the attic

* A short while ago, you had found a human locked in the attic, who had asked you to help him. You clicked, something in that moment just felt like it had been put in place like the final puzzle piece so you trusted him without really knowing why

* But you had even more recently found out from his brother that he was bulshitting you and that he was probably the demon Belphegor, so now you just wanted to figure out what was going on

* You continued to march up the stairs and finally arrived at the attic to confront him or at least question him

* “Are you Belphegor?” You cut to the chase not wanting to bother with any more of his lies.

* He was silent for a second before grinning, devilish look that you’d expect from the decent ruler or the underworld gleaming in his eyes as he said “Aww, so you’ve already figured me out, have you? Well, you’re no fun at all.”

* You glared, and tried to decide whether declaring he was a liar or asking why he was a liar would be a better idea

* But he spoke up again before you could decide.

* “That timer on your neck, what does it say?”

* You paused, not knowing the exact number. “Um, like, there’s hundred billion seconds-ish? Why?”

* “Because I’m a demon. I’m going to live long enough to fulfil that. Look at my timer, here. It has 13,140,014 seconds. No demon would live that short.”

* “And is thirteen million a lot of time?”

* “About a human lifespan, bit under.”

* You hummed. It made sense to you looking at it at the moment, though you could’ve sworn it was a little bit under your guess, you trusted him.

* Why? He lied to you about being a human, so why do you trust him?

* Because he’s your soulmate. There’s no doubt in your mind. The click, the need to trust him, even seeing him in your dreams. It was right.

* So you believed him, and didn’t give the thirteen million seconds much question. You were going to save him, save your soulmate.

* Because thirteen million seems like a long time, and I guess it was long enough for you to save him. Just not enough to do much more.

[back2bluesidex]

Where Do Broken Hearts Go - Chapter 1 (18+)

Pairing: Model, ex-boyfriend!Jungkook X Child psychologist, Fem!Reader X Lawyer, Single Dad!Hoseok. 

Summary: Jungkook stripped your emotions naked, left you bare in the chilly wind of despair and self-doubt with an unending heartache. You tried your hardest to move on from him, to live for yourself but failed miserably. Each night you had to come back to your empty home where memories and broken dreams were scattered all around the floor, until one day a little angel and her unbelievably beautiful father came into your life. Finally, when you find yourself healing, maybe falling too, Jungkook had to show up! Again!

Theme: Angst, pining, heartbreak, break-up, SMUT (MDNI)

Warnings: lots of crying, reader is broken, she is suffering so bad, a flashback explicit sex scene, big-dick Jungkook, kind of size kink, he hits it from behind, shower sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up), creampie, Jung Hoseok enters the scene, he is so attractive that you might faint, subtle and flirty Hoseok, an adorable little girl, Namjoon makes an appearance.

It's not really mentioned but just so you know, Hoseok and reader has a slight age gap like 5 years. (which is not at all an age gap to me because my first boyfriend was 8 years older than me. haha. you didn't just read that.)

Word count: 4.2k

Taglist requests are closed.

Minors and karens are not allowed in this blog

A/N: First chapter is here. I wrote 4k+ words for a single fic and that's unbelievable. Anyway, I hope you guys like it, and I hope it's worth the wait.

Main Masterlist

Chapters:- 

Prologue/Masterpost || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 - Finale

“Reaching in 10 minutes” 

That’s what Jungkook texted you half an hour ago. 

It’s nothing new. He has always been late to your every date, every plan, every meetup. What is new is the lack of explanations and excuses following his delayed arrivals. He only apologizes and you hardly hear any sincerity in his atonements. 

You sigh, staring out of the huge window of the private cabin. 

Jungkook can’t meet you at your (supposed to be shared) home due to his “privacy” issues. So, you had to reserve this private cabin of an over-expensive continental restaurant. It’s funny how all of these feel so formal. It feels as if you are meeting one of your wealthy clients and not your boyfriend. This is how far Jungkook has drifted from you. 

Your feet bounce on the floor, reminding you that you are indeed very nervous. 

It’s a “leap of faith” situation for you today. If it works out then everything will start afresh, if it doesn’t… you will have to fall and break without having any idea on how to mend yourself. 

“Sorry. I’m late.” Jungkook’s muffled voice rings behind your ear. 

You were so lost in your thoughts, or fear, that you didn’t even hear him entering the cabin. 

He heads towards the seat opposite of yours, without any further greetings, any kiss or even a hug… not even a single glance.

“As if it’s the first time.” you scoff. Jungkook chuckles nervously, removing his mask and snapback. 

“Let’s order something. Heard their soy sauce chicken is a hit-” 

“Y/N, I can’t stay for long. Can you make it quick?” Jungkook cuts off your words. His tone is so curt, so foreign that you doubt if it’s actually him underneath his skin or not. 

“Jungkook… What's wrong? Why are you making things so formal? For fuck’s sake it’s me. Your so-called girlfriend.” Your voice quivers but you scream nonetheless. 

“Y/N! Quit being dramatic and lower your voice. We are not at home.” Jungkook hisses, teeth gritting, eyes narrowing. 

“Home? You mean the apartment you left because your agency said it’s risky to share a space with your girlfriend of three years? The same place you refused to meet at because paparazzi are keeping tabs on you as you are rumored to be dating someone else?” you reply with the same ferocity. 

Jungkook closes his eyes and rubs his face with both of his palms. Taking a sharp inhale, he says, “Can you please tell me why we are here? I don’t think you called me all the way here just so we can fight?”  

You roll your eyes, less in sarcasm, more in an attempt to make your tears disappear.

You sit straight as if being prepared for the sword that is going to pierce through your heart, “Jungkook, do you.. do you love me?” 

Jungkook visibly stiffens. His eyes go wide as if someone has asked him to jump off of the building. You see him collecting himself and clearing his throat only to lie, “O-Of course I do. But suddenly why?” 

Even though you want to believe his words, you know those are as hollow as his eyes and maybe his heart as well. 

“Then..” you pause, reaching for your purse. Pulling out the pitch black velvet box, you look at him. Jungkook’s eyes are wide again, filled with horror and confusion. He probably knows what you are doing and he does not seem to be the least bit happy.  

You stand up from your seat and round the table to reach Jungkook, “don’t you think it’s the high time we get engaged? It’s been three years since we started dating, our families approve of each other and” you pause, being unsure of whether you should say it, “and we have always wanted a future together.” You open the box for him to see, a tight-lipped smile lingers on your face only to punctuate your proposal.

Jungkook looks up at you with his big, doe, mystical eyes and then looks down on the ring you have spent a fortune on. Your heart hammers in your chest, but it is not the flattering kind. Your heart races in a fear that you are not ready to face yet.

Jungkook’s face falls and he looks away from you. He plays with his fingers and avoids any kind of eye contact with you. You stand there like a doll made of steel, staring at him holding the ring. 

“Y/N. This is not- I can’t. I mean, this is so sudden. I am at the peak of my career and I can’t think of getting engaged or married at this point of life.” he runs a hand though his dark hair out of frustration, “Why are you rushing everything like this?” Jungkook’s eyes are still trained on the table, not on you. 

“Because I am afraid, Jungkook. I am afraid you might leave me behind if I don’t try to hold onto you now.” you finally let your tears fall. Uncontrollable sobs leave your mouth. 

Jungkook whips his head towards you and then stands up slowly. He holds you by your arms and opens his mouth to say something, “Y/N. I-”

“But I guess it’s too late now. You were long gone. You were gone far before the day you were seen with her. I should have understood Jungkook. I should have…” you run out of breath but still continue, “now please answer me honestly, you love her. Don’t you?” 

Jungkook starts avoiding your eyes again. His grip on your arms loosens and you somehow know the answer already. 

“I never cheated on you, Y/N. I never lied to you.” He offers with eyes shut tightly. 

“But you never told me the full truth either.” your voice comes out weak. 

Jungkook remains silent for a while and then he continues with a frail voice, “That night. I mean, the photo that went viral, I was sending her back to her hotel. She flew all the way to the States to confess to me.” This is a new revelation to you, since you never really demanded any explanation from him. Honestly, you didn’t have the guts to face the truth. Rather you decided to try one last time. And that is what brings you here, defeated and rejected with a truck load of pain burdening you down. 

“And? What did you say?” you press on, being determined to end your suffering today even if it means you will have to return home with a broken relationship and a broken heart.  

“Nothing.” Jungkook gulps.

“You could not say no because you feel the same and you could not say yes because you still had me, is that right?” You know you awfully sound like you are in a session with one of your patients but you don’t care. You need to get to the root of this unbearable pain and cut it off for once and for all. 

Jungkook nods. Even though his eyes are hidden from yours, you know, those are full of guilt and shame but not a single speck of love and affection for you. 

You close your eyes, let the tears fall unbound, shut the box tight and take two steps back from your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. 

“I know this is a stupid question but I- I’m just confirming” another sob leaves your mouth unintentionally, “do you want to break up? With me?” 

Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose. He is probably finding a way to say yes without having to hurt you more than you can bear. 

“Y/N..” he murmurs. This is most likely the last time you are hearing him call you by your name. 

“Jungkook, please, just yes or no.” You take another step away from him.  

“Yes.” Jungkook breathes out. His eyes are still shut tight. 

Even though you knew what his answer would be, it still hurts much more than it did in your imagination. 

You feel as if your head is underwater, you can’t breathe, can’t fight, can’t scream. You need to be saved but the person you want to reach out to is the same person who pushed you into this unfathomable water. 

Your vision gets blurry with tears again, you can’t see Jungkook anymore. And you guess it’s better that way. 

“Okay. That's all I think. That’s all for our three years of history. I hope you lead a happier life from now on. Goodbye….. Jungkook.” and with that you left without waiting for him to say anything. You left him and a part of yourself with him. 

You are again sitting at your dining table, holding your phone tightly in your hand. You are again re-reading a headline just like you did a month and two days ago. You are again trying not to cry but you are failing miserably. 

“Calvin Kline fame Jeon Jungkook confirms the rumors by kissing rumored girlfriend actress Han Jiwon at a club downtown - The agency is yet to provide a statement.” 

It's cruel, how you have to wake up exactly at 7 in the morning despite crying for the better part of the night. 

It's even more cruel, how your vacation application (which you have been pursuing for more than a week now) was declined harshly because there's a "priority client" and you, arguably the most competent child psychologist of the clinic, have to take over the case. 

You reach for your phone and turn off the alarm. 

Opening your eyes, you stare at the ceiling blankly. It's been two weeks since you last saw Jungkook at the restaurant. It's been two weeks since your relationship came to an end. And it's been four months since you are sleeping on your own but you still crave for his warmth beside you. 

Love can be a funny thing. At one moment it's fulfilling you, injecting your heart with a sickening sweetness and at another one it's ripping off your urge to continue living, it's stuffing you with insecurity and self doubts that you hardly knew the existence of. 

You wonder what Jungkook is doing now. Is he sleeping by himself or is he waking up beside Jiwon? Is he kissing her shoulders softly like he used to do to you or is he hovering above her, spreading her legs and inserting his large shaft inside. 

Your thoughts are shaken off with the vibrating sound of your phone. 

It's Miseon. The receptionist of The Mindscope ( the clinic you work for) and probably the only person you can call a friend in this entire world. 

"Morning." You greet.

"Hey. Heard that your application was declined?" Miseon chrips from the other side of the line. 

"Yeah. For some priority clients. Kim asshole Namjoon will be deep-fried in burning oil in a giant ass frying pan in hell." You grumble.

"So you are coming back to work today I guess." 

"Yes I have to."

"Will you be okay tho?" You can hear concern in your friend's voice. She's the only person apart from your family to know about your and Jungkook's relationship. So, she called you immediately after seeing the tabloids twelve days ago. You cried on her shoulder when she visited you. 

"Yeah. I guess. I have to start doing the actual work anyway. My eyes are in pain for the prolonged hours I spent staring at Microsoft Word for these two weeks. Ugh. Now I hate documentation even more." 

Miseon chuckles, “Okay, see you at the clinic then.” 

“Yeah. see you.” 

You drag yourself out of the bed and head towards the washroom. If this is a new start, then you better accept it. 

As soon as the warm soothing water touches your body, memories come rushing back, flooding your mind with despair in the process. 

“Jungkook… I’m gonna get late” you whine, head tilting back with pleasure. 

Jungkook’s hand snakes around your waist, fingers reach for your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Five minutes won’t hurt, baby.” he whispers in your ear as his index and middle finger draw slow circles on your wet clit. 

His other hand teases one of your wet nipples, twisting and tugging it as harshly as he wants. 

A pool of slick gushes out of your hole making jungkook groan at the feeling. He dips his middle finger in your hole and collects some of your wetness, he then uses that to rub more smooth circles on your clit. 

You choke on thin air, moaning his name again and again you start to roll your hip on his naked cock. 

His giant cock fits perfectly along your ass crack, as if it was made to fit inside you. 

You roll your hips harder to elicit a reaction from your boyfriend. 

“Such a dirty girl, huh? All for me.” Jungkook’s husky voice pierce through your sober mind and you find yourself dazed with love and pleasure. 

Jungkook increases the pace of his fingers and you get more and more wet each passing second. 

“Kook.. I- I need you.” you manage to breathe out. 

“Don’t be vague, Y/N. Tell me what you exactly need.” Jungkook replies smugly. 

“I need your giant cock to ruin my pussy, daddy.” you reply, squeezing the tit that has been deprived of your boyfriend’s attention.

“Whatever my baby says.” and with that jungkook slips inside you in one go. You barely get any chance to adjust because he starts moving right away. 

He fucks you slow. His fingers never stop teasing your clit and soon you two reach your climax. He fills you with his cum and you coat his cock with yours. 

“Let’s get cleaned now, hm?” Jungkook places a kiss on your shoulder as he turns on the shower. 

Your back slides down the shower wall. You shake violently as loud sobs leave your throat one after another. 

“You are so cruel, Jungkook. You are so fucking cruel.” you scream. Your throat hurts but your heart hurts even more. 

You should have read the signs. When he kept on talking about Jiwon, aka his new friend from the agency, you should have perceived that shine in his eyes. 

You should have confronted him more when he said he would have a drink with her after his shoot. 

You should have asked his whereabouts when he ignored your calls and texts because he visited her in one of her drama sets. 

You should have done a lot of things but most importantly, you should have loved him a little less and loved yourself a little more. 

Counselee Information: - Name: Jung Sua Age: 7 (seven) Gender: Female (F) Guardian: Jung Hoseok  Relationship with the guardian: Father of the counselee  Reasons behind seeking help:  1. Changes in behavior  2. Quieter and more reserved than before 3. Frequent nightmares  4. Mild panic attacks 

“So, what do you think?” Namjoon questions, leaning on the plush chair, placed at the end of your table. 

“Nothing complicated. You could have handled it yourself. There was absolutely no need of rejecting my vacation applications again and again.” you spat, being very unimpressed with the dimpled smirk on your boss’ face. 

“Oh my god. What’s wrong?” he dramatically leans forward. Placing a hand on his chest, Namjoon continues, “I thought you will be in a better mood after two weeks of work from home. But you seem even more annoyed than before.” 

“For your information, I asked for a damn holiday not work from home aka  prolonged hours of documentation. I really need some time off, Namjoon. I am not kidding.” Your voice sounds so defeated that Namjoon has to sit straight. 

A serious expression takes over his features as he replies, “I know, Y/N. You are definitely not the type to take leaves for fun. But I am helpless here. The client has asked for you personally. He has done his own research and concluded that you can help his daughter better than everyone else in this clinic. I could not do anything.” 

You nod understanding his point of view. 

You are always more than ready to help these little, innocent souls out. It pains you to see these babies experiencing something as horrific as panic attacks. 

But this time you need therapy more than anyone else under your radar. Even though your exterior doesn’t show the unbearable pain your interior is going through, you still need some solace. You are really unwilling to work at this moment and you doubt if you can help anyone else when you are not mentally fit yourself.  

But you hardly have a choice. And maybe, just maybe, you will get a chance of distracting yourself from Jungkook's thoughts. Maybe you will be able to take a breather. Maybe you will heal in the process. Maybe? 

“The appointment is at 11 am, right?” You ask the man sitting right in front of you.

“Yes,” he answers. 

“It’s 10:49 already. Get out and let me prepare myself.” you mutter, closing your eyes and leaning back on your chair. 

“Okay okay. Don’t be so aggressive.” Namjoon chuckles before leaving you alone in the cabin. 

You go through Jung Sua's records once more to verify if there's a health condition you should be aware of. But there isn't anything. 

Just when you close the file, a knock rings on the cabin door. 

You sit straight. Ready to welcome a new friend. 

Yuna, your assistant, knocks once more before pushing the door slowly. She walks in first and then holds the door open for the guests. 

And the cutest seven years old, you have ever seen, walks inside. She's so small that she can be easily mistaken for a five year old. Her chubby cheeks and immaculately done pigtails makes her look like a doll. 

You almost coo at the sight. 

Even though you mostly work with kids, for the past year you were working with only teenagers. It's been long since you had the pleasure to serve yourself for a kid less than ten years old, let alone a seven year one. 

"Hello there, Miss Sua. How are you doing?" You say in a jovial voice, trudging towards the baby. 

Sua tenses a bit and looks behind her, looking for shelter from her father. He stands right behind Sua, offering her to hold one of his hands. Sua takes that readily.

You come forward and sit on your knees to maintain an eye level with your new friend. 

"Don't worry. I'm your new friend. My name is Y/N." You offer her your hand. She hesitates a bit and then looks at her father for confirmation.

You follow her cue and tilt your head up to take a look at the father of your counselee.

Only if you weren't the embodiment of damsel of distress these days, you could very well have a love at first sight. 

The man flaunts a pair of incredibly beautiful yet intimidating eyes, a chiseled jaw that can cut you into pieces, perfectly styled dark hair that falls on his face, and a pair of heart shaped lips which enhances the overall beauty of his face. The fitted dress pants and the black dress shirt give hints of the lithe, well-structured body that lies inside. 

He smiles at you, you do the same. And then you feel a softer, smaller hand wrapping up your fingertips lightly. 

Her cuteness makes you giggle. 

You stand up, taking her hand on yours, you start walking towards a cozier corner of your cabin, where you usually counsel kids. Her father follows you closely behind. 

There's a small and round glass table along with three chairs. One is meant for you and two others are meant for the counselees and their guardians. 

You turn towards Sua’s father. Smiling a little and you say “You need to take the seat first, so that she can be assured it is safe here.” 

“Sure” he replies. His voice is smooth and light, a contrast to his dark and manly features. 

He sits down on the bigger chair and pats on the smaller one, “come on Sua, com ‘ere.” 

Sua leaves your hand and wiggles towards her dad. She easily plops down on her seat. 

“Yuna, can you prepare the game room please?” You ask your assistant.

“Sure, Y/N” She says before closing the door as you get comfortable in your own chair. 

Sua regards you with her big, round doe eyes. She looks at you so intensely as if you have grown two horns in your head. 

You chuckle a bit, “Sua, don’t you like your new friend? Don’t you like me?” 

Sua stays silent. 

“Sua is very friendly. I am sure she will like Y/N very soon. Isn’t it, baby?” Sua’s father chimes in, squeezing one of her little hands with his bigger, rougher ones. 

You are so accustomed to your patients and their guardians to address you as “doctor”, that you had to take a moment after your name rolled out of Mr. Jung’s mouth. 

The change is welcomed anyway. 

You divert your eyes from Sua to him, only to find him smiling at you warmly. You mirror his smile. His smile is so damn gorgeous that you can’t help but feel contaminated with it. 

“Sua, what do you like to play the most?” you focus on Sua again.

“Mario kart” she replies briefly, staring down at her feet. 

“Okay. That's a great game. But what would you like to play outside? For example with your classmates during lunchtime?” You place your next question. 

“My classmates don’t play with me.” She was quick with her answer. 

Your smile drops instantly and you already start mapping out all the possible sources of the issues she is facing. 

Nodding to yourself in understanding, you proceed, “Okay, let’s not talk about games anymore. You tell me what you like more, oranges or mangoes?”

“Mangoes.” she replies. 

“Okay” standing up from your seat, you walk towards your table and call Yuna. She comes within a few seconds. 

You instruct her to take Sua to the game room and treat her to some delicious mango juice. Even though Sua hesitates for a bit, her father’s encouragement works really well. 

As soon as Sua leaves the room, you find yourself quite nervous under the intimidating gaze of Mr. Jung. 

This setting is nothing new. You have been into one-on-one conversations with your counselees’ parents for more times than you can count. But none of them were as young and attractive as Mr. Jung. 

You inhale a long breath before continuing, “so, Mr. Jung, since when did you start noticing these changes in Sua?” 

“Almost a month ago. I can’t pinpoint an exact date but she has gradually become very quiet over this last month. She used to be very chatty. She used to tell me every little thing in detail about her day, her friends, what she had for lunch, what colors she used in drawings and so on. Now-a-days her answers have become vague and insignificant.” Mr. Jung sighs.

“Hmm. and the nightmares?” you ask, scribbling on the ipad. 

“Around the same time. She woke up at 2 in the morning, ran to my room crying and breathing heavily. She didn’t tell me what it was about but kept on saying she was afraid. The same thing happened two more times.” He completes. 

“Umm. The next question might be a little personal but the information is required for future counsellings. I ask for your understanding.” you sit straight. He nods. 

“You said she came running to you when she had nightmares. Hence, I assume you were alone in the room. What about Sua’s mother?” 

“I am a single dad, Doctor. Sua’s mother and I were in a casual relationship when she conceived with Sua unexpectedly. Both of us were just starting our careers so it was tough for us to think of getting married. On the top of that we didn’t like each other enough to proceed with that option. So, we decided to co-parent. But…” he pauses, takes in a long breath and then continues, “she disappeared after giving birth. She left a note behind as an apology, saying that she is not ready to be a mother, asking me not to contact her anymore. My mother and sister helped me in raising Sua so beautifully. They are the only ones to become something close to a mother figure for her. That’s all.” 

You feel something warm flooding in your chest. You don’t know what it is, it can be respect, can be sympathy, can be even admiration for this man who you don’t even know properly. 

A genuine smile takes over your face as you mutter, “You have done a great job Mr. Jung. You have raised a beautiful daughter all by yourself. You have worked hard.” 

Mr, Jung’s dark eyes flood with some emotions you can’t quite name. He stares at you intensely, so much so that you feel he is reading you inside out. You can’t help but stare back at him. 

“Call me Hoseok. So that I can call you by your name too. Is that okay, Y/N?” his voice is deeper than earlier, his smile is lopsided, more like a smirk. 

You find yourself easily smiling along with him, something that has been quite tough for you to do for the past few months. 

“Sure. Hoseok.” Your reply comes out without any further thought.   

Taglist:-

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @soraviie @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @xjoonchildx @justmewondering-recs @cuteipat @miakey98 @purpleanchorcrown @chimmisbae @ane102 @junniesoleilkth @terjeonbebas @kookssecret @appleh4ad @kayleeshinee @whoa-jo

[bbaked-beans]

BONES IN THERE!? (S3 EP3 Campaign 1)

one of my FAVOURITE moments of the whole campaign hands down haha!

redraw of this from a solid year and a half ago!!

[maraudereestauderelb]

Warm Hands, Cold Wind (Robb Stark x Reader)

You were sent to Winterfell to guide Arya—but it’s Robb Stark who keeps stealing your focus. Amid feasts, whispered secrets, and a near-tragic accident, a late-night walk through the Godswood changes everything.

“No money or status in the world will make a woman happy who is married to a man who is not cherishing her.”

This OS takes place early in Season 1/book 1 ("A Game of Thrones")

Warnings: Spoilers (if you haven't watched season 1, episode 1), besides that just fluff!

Please bear with me, English isn't my first language so leaning into a more GoT-style of writing rather than modern speech was hard for me haha

Unable to hide your smile you watched how the oldest Stark picked up his sister playfully and gently pushed her towards the door of the hall. Behaving like a true Lady had never been one of her strong suits but you liked Arya exactly like this. She was a fierce and determined little bundle of energy and Catelyn's plan of you working as a role model for her hadn't played out the way Lady Stark had hoped.  

You had moved to Winterfell almost half a year ago for reasons people had yet to inform you about. Although most of the time it was too cold for your liking, you had started to call the castle your home. Still, you missed Riverrun, but Winterfell had found its way right into your heart. But it wasn't the only thing that had... 

"I did alright, right?", Sansa asked you still nervous after her younger sister's attack with flying food.  

"Yes, of course", you reassured the red head: "I bet the prince will be really fond of you, my dear." 

"Do you really think so?"  

Sansa seemed so lost and worried and although she always tried to act like she was already an adult, it was exactly these little moments between you that had made it impossible for you not to like her. 

"Yes!", you answered again and grabbed for your cup and took a sip of wine.  

The feast was loud around you and slowly getting out of control but the two of you were sitting so close together you were still able to understand each and every word the other one said. 

"This is a big honor, Sansa, and although it might be frightening, I am certain you will live up to it. And if Prince Joffrey will not cherish your heart, he is a fool!"  

"Do you really think so?" 

"Of course I do otherwise I would not say it. I give him a week until he looks at you like every bit of earth you ever walked on deserves to be declared holy ground, so help me all seven Gods!" 

"You mean how Robb looks at you?"  

You almost chocked on your wine.  

"What? No! Who said that?"  

"I heard how Jon and Theon teased him about it", she answered obviously proud of herself.  

Oh great, they had probably recognized that you liked him and were now making fun about it. 

"You know...we should probably head for our chambers it is getting late, and this feast starts to feel like a unfitting environment for two young ladies." 

Fortunately their conversation had switched back to Joffrey and King's Landing while they had made their way towards Sansa's room. 

"Try not to think about it too much, alright? What will be, will be. And how it will be is nobody's but the Gods' choice."  

"I know", Sansa nodded. 

"Now sleep tight."  

"Good night", the oldest Stark daughter replied before quietly closing the door to her room which left you alone in the hallway.  

That was until Robb stepped out of Arya's room just a moment later. 

"Wasn't easy to get our little Lady into bed, was it?", you grinned when you realized the Stark's annoyed face expression. He immediately turned in the direction your voice was coming from and smiled weakly as an answer to your wicked grin.  

"This girl has way too much energy." 

"I admire her for it", you answered smiling when Robb walked towards you. 

"Understandable, if you're already on your way to your chamber."  

"I am indeed."  

"Are you sure?", he asked and seemed disappointed.  

"Yes, it is late, Robb..." 

"And I thought I could use the royal fiest to ask you to dance, Lady Y/N." His words made you blush so you felt forced to look down ashamed when you answered: "You had planty of chances to do so before you ushered your sister to her room." 

"I did but I had been certain that I needed a few beers to possess enough confidence to do so." 

"You are pretty flattering, Robb. You should stop being so nice or I will remind you of it next time you're showing off and taunting me when I'm practicing with my crossbow." 

"I am not taunting you", he laughed and gained another one of your smiles: "I am teasing you." 

"Is that true?"  

"You have my word, Lady Y/N." 

Your cheeks were so hot you felt like you could die right there on the spot. 

How could one's eyes possibly be this blue? 

"Would you like to keep me company on my way to my chamber?"  

You hoped he wouldn't interpret any wrong insinuations into your question. You were friends and he had walked you to her chamber plenty of times. 

The oldest Stark son agreed with a smile and started to walk next to you through the dimly light corridors.  

"Sansa seems really fond of the prince", you told him smirking to move your conversation in a less tense direction.  

"Which is good for her."  

"I know...she just so young. I mean...she's almost three years younger than me and yet her future seems to be sealed..." 

"She won't be married until she's old enough and father won't force her to do it until she is ready." 

"I just hope she is lucky and he is a good man." "He will be king", Robb answered firmly and stopped in front of the door to your room.  

"And? No money or status in the world will make a woman happy who is married to a man who's not cherishing her", you answered determinedly.  

You obviously weren't on the same page about this. Robb opened his mouth in the attempt to reply but closed it again. "Men truly have no idea about the emotional spectrum and needs of a woman."  

"I do respect you. If I have ever given you the feeling, I don't, then please tell me", he growled.  

"No, you did not but I was talking about the prince and hoping that he is a good man. If I made you feel like I was chritizing you in terms of the way you are going to make your future wife feel, Lord Stark, I ask for your forgiveness." 

But your angry glare made it obvious that you weren't asking for forgiveness. 

"You are forgiven, Milady. I hope you have a good night."  

"Good night", you answered reticently and closed the door behind you so she couldn't hear the Stark quietly cursing. 

The following day

Robb hadn't closed the heavy wooden door behind him yet when you pushed yourself away from the stone wall you had been leaning against.  

"How is he?", you asked hoping for good news.  

"His state remains unchanged..." 

A disappointed sigh left your lips, but you quickly forced yourself back to deal with the situation like a strong woman would.  

"How is your mother?" 

"Devastated."  

"I understand... But the Maester said he won't die, did he not?"  

Robb nodded. He tried to look strong and determined but you could tell that there were a million thoughts troubling his mind.  

"Come on, let us get you out of here. You need some fresh air", you decided and tucked your arm under his so he couldn't protest. 

Robb was quiet. He usually was and always thought well about the things he said. It always amazed you how every single word which left his lips sounded like the letters and poems wise and noble men would write in a book with a richly ornamented leather cover.  

"Which thoughts are pestering your mind?", you asked while you were walking through the Godswood towards the weir wood tree.  

"Is it not obvious?", Robb asked angrily: "My brother almost died!"  

Untouched by his anger you remained calm. He had the right to be angry at least he was finally showing some kind of emotion and if letting it all out on you meant he was feeling better afterwards it was alright. The oldest Stark meant so much to you that you voluntarily took this burden on your shoulders. 

"I know. But I meant besides that." 

He seemed to quarrel with himself for a moment before his tense shoulders relaxed and he answered: "I wished father was here. That way my mother wouldn't have to go through all of this on her own. And he would probably get her to eat or sleep. Besides that, it is suddenly demanded that she takes care of the lands and castle although she obviously isn't in the condition to do this right now! I try to help her as much as I can...but Rickon needs her as well! I understand, she wants to be with Bran but her other son needs her as well! It's simply a bit much at the moment." 

He had stopped in his track while he had been talking and was now looking to the ground glumly. Seeing him like this made your heart heavy. 

"Robb...look at me", you told him quietly and after a moment his sad blue eyes followed her plea. "You are doing great. And I bet your family is really proud of how you are handling everything." 

A weak smile appeared on his lips.  

"Do you think so?"  

"I know it. I mean...I'm in awe."  

With one quick motion he took your face in his hands and pulled you in for a kiss, faster than you had been able to comprehend what was going on. Your eyes had fallen shut in an instant and your heart had stopped beating, the only two things left to feel for you being the cold wind and his warm lips.  

But as quickly and unexpectedly as the kiss had started it was over as well. 

His hands were still placed on your neck while his thumbs rested on your red cheeks. Both of you hadn't said a word and were staring at each other astonishedly while your warm breaths were visible in the cold air.  

"Forgive me", he finally broke the silence and waited for your reaction.

"You're forgiven", you finally smirked once you found your voice again before you got on the tips of your toes and kissed him again. 

-> MASTERLIST

[cafeinthemoon]

It's a Fire - Chapter I

Chapter 1

Wordcount 3,5k

Title Retired Hashira

Fandom Kimetsu no Yaiba / Demon Slayer

Symbols ⭕ ➕ 🖤

Warnings: arranged marriage; age gap; mentions of increasing in criminality and poverty; grieving; non diagnosed depression (the condition wasn't properly understood by the time this story is settled)

Tagging ? (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N.A.: So Kimetsu no Yaiba returned and I'm taking the opportunity to finally start posting this story that has been in my list of ideas for several months!

A while ago I made a poll where I included the option of writing a fic with the Rengoku family, and it was this one I was talking about. I know there are other stories I need to work on already, but let me tell you that this very fic just saved me from a creative block, which was caused by what I suspect to be the beginning of a burnout (I'm about to go on vacation and I just can't take it anymore, but I don't want to discuss this rn).

A few words about the ff itself: It's a slow burn, arranged marriage story between reader, who's 27/28 yo, which makes her closer to myself who's a bit older than this, and Shinjuro Rengoku, who's struggling with the same problems we see in canon, but somehow accepts her as his wife: she was the daughter of old acquaintances of his, so the marital contract is sealed to allegedly honor the friendship between the families. However, things are way more complicated in reality.

Of course, because of the things we see in the original media, such as violence, alcoholism and etc., I need to make it clear that my personal opinions on these subjects may diverge from what I'm putting in this story (due to personal family experiences), and each chapter will carry the necessary warnings. Also if you notice similarities with Beauty and the Beast, know that it isn't just a coincidence haha Finally, the title is a song by Portishead, which didn't influence my writing but its lyrics somehow fit this plot 🌹

I hope you have a good time reading this ❤

“You walk a lonely road 

Oh, how far you are from home” 

(Enya, May it Be) 

That fate didn’t care about your preferences and desires, you knew well. 

You wished you had your mother with you for long years, and that your relationship grew stronger as you spent your time together, dedicating yourselves to the art of the sword, but most of her time and energy were directed to her work as a member of the Demon Slayer Corps, and it was like this until the day you received a messenger from Ubuyashiki-sama to inform you about her death: she didn’t fall to the Oni, but couldn’t resist the injuries from a battle against a group of them. 

You also wished your father, after losing the woman he claimed to love, stood up to his remaining family, that is, himself and you, and took reasonable measures to protect his territory and the people who lived in it, but he preferred to lock himself in his office and ignore the demands outside it, firing half of the house’s servants for the sake of saving money and willing to leave the property to the dust and the insects, not seeing this happening thanks to you, who took the task of maintaining everything by yourself, even doing some of the physical work. 

There were, in fact, many other things you wished for, but didn’t have the chance to see them coming true. One of those other things were continuing to live in the house you grew up in, and using your education to dedicate your life to a career of your choice, though your options seemed limited by your sex. But even this was taken from you when, on an ordinary day, you saw your father leaving his office in the company of a man you’ve never seen in your life. You wanted to question him about this strange visit, but you didn’t have to: your father came to your chambers later, and without measuring his tone or giving you time to process such news, explained the meeting’s main subject. 

– I’ve recently contacted an old acquaintance of mine, someone who was also known by your mother – he started – And explained our situation here. 

You knew what he was talking about: after your mother passed away, your lands’ protection has been neglected, and appearances of demons have been reported more often by your servants and the people who live in the villages near. No one dared leaving their houses at night, and the local economy were deeply affected by this, since part of the basic work used to be done in this period of the day; this led to an increase in poverty and criminality. You, on your part, weren’t immune to these difficulties despite growing up in a privileged family. 

Your father addressing this situation to you, however, was something new, and you exposed this impression to him. 

– Things are getting harder for everyone here, that’s true – you agreed – But why are you discussing this with me now? 

– Because I asked this acquaintance for help, and he answered me – he took slow steps toward your window, half opened by that time; he closed it with firm hands, but without making much noise – The thing is that, at the same time our lands are now dangerous to people, specially to young women like you, it’s time for you to take the next big step in your personal life, daughter. After all, you’re almost twenty-eight. 

You frowned. 

Next big step? What is he talking about?… 

Your father might have noticed your confusion, because he soon clarified his words… and you wished he never did it. 

– I’m talking about marriage, y/n – he spat – You declined the last two proposals, and I respect your reasons for that, but this time the circumstances aren’t in our favor. This man who visited me earlier is a messenger from the Rengoku House, and he brought me a positive answer from their head: I offered your hand and a good dowry in exchange for your protection, and in respect to your mother, who worked for the same cause as him, Shinjuro Rengoku accepted you as his wife. You’re leaving the house this week. 

You were speechless. You tried to stand up and show a sign of protest, but your legs didn’t obey you; you opened your mouth to say something, but no word left it. You knew your father have been struggling, but you could never suppose he was becoming insane – arranging a marriage for you without your consent? Other men used to do this to their daughters, but the man who married your mother would never… But, apparently, he was no longer this man. 

Maybe he was expecting some disagreement, but seeing your silence made him frown. 

– Don’t you have anything to say about this? 

You finally seemed to wake up. You gave him a dead glare, murmuring your response. 

– And what do you expect a woman to say after being sold and sent away from her own house out of nowhere? – you moved your head to the side, irony leaking from the gesture – Thank you? 

Your father clenched his jaw. 

– I certainly don’t expect your gratitude – his voice was lower now – I know this isn’t the future you wanted for yourself, and I didn’t want things to be like this either, but… 

– Why marriage, father? – your tongue was released, interrupting his thread of thoughts like a storm – I could stay temporarily with them, work for them, anything! But marrying someone I’ve never met?! Don’t you remember that I’ve declined the other proposals after at least seeing the faces of those men? 

– You’ll meet him on the wedding day, and you’ll have all the time of the world to know anything there is to know about him – his tone was louder again, as his patience was running low – Besides, Shinjuro is an old friend of mine. I give you my word that he’s a decent man, besides being a formidable warrior. He was married to a respectable woman once, and built a good family with her. I trust him, and so did your mother. No problems should be expected from his part, so the same must be expected from you. 

Shinjuro. It was only the second time you’ve heard that name from your father’s mouth, and you didn’t know what to think. In fact, you’ve learned from your mother that among the Demon Slayer Corps there was an elite group known as the Hashira, and one of them was Shinjuro, the Hashira of the Flames. He was the current head of the Rengoku family, but personal struggles – including the death of his wife – forced him to a retirement despite his capacity as a warrior, so that his eldest son, Kyojuro, took his place. However, you also heard that this young man was dead, so it was impossible to tell how things were going for his family members now. And that was the environment your father was willing to throw you into, even spending money in the process. 

You sighed. 

– Father, when was the last time you’ve met this man? I don’t remember you talking about him – you crossed your arms – I’m only familiar with his name thanks to mother, but now you’re telling me that he’s an old friend of yours. How old is he, exactly? 

– Not as old as me, of course – his reply came with a mixture of embarrassment and indignation – I can’t believe that, of all the things involved in this arrangement, this is what concerns you more! 

You scoffed. 

– I’m not that futile, but if he’s old enough to have a son capable of replacing him in the battlefield, I think I have the right to be concerned! – you took a step toward him – If I have no choice, I want to know exactly where I’m getting into. Can’t you even make such a small concession to me, father? 

No, he couldn’t, and you soon realized that. 

Your father decided the conversation was over. He returned to the room’s door and opened it. 

– It is decided, already – and, with a sort of sadness in his eyes – I’m doing what I think it’s best for my daughter. I only wanted her to trust me, at least for once. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat. 

– I wanted this too, father. But you’re making it too difficult for your daughter. 

He stared at you for a moment, then left without any word. 

*** 

Things really happened the way you feared, in the path your father stated they would follow. He said that, but until the end he kept acting like he had no control over the flow of events, in a frail attempt to soothe his own conscience that only served to unnerve you, and not even seeing the disappointment in his daughter’s eyes each time he looked at you was enough for him to leave this pretense aside. Had he no shame anymore? 

During that fateful week, you avoided his company, leaving the burden of communication to the remaining servants and only speaking to him when utterly necessary. What was left for you to talk about when, as he said, everything was decided, and when you had nothing but sadness for him — for him, the adversities he’s been through and for the way he chose to behave in face of them? It was useless to argue on this, and whether you liked it or not, you had little time to put everything in order and couldn’t have the luxury of wasting it: would it be worthy to cause a delay in the arrangements under the risk of leaving a bad impression in your future spouse, even when he was someone you’ve never saw before? 

You sighed at the thought. 

And, as if I hadn’t enough things to worry about, I still have to consider this. 

In fact, you didn’t want to take much stuff from that house with you at the same time you didn’t want to cause any difficulties to the servants, who have already seen their load increase the last months, so you were quick to select essential items and packing them with the help of a maid, from your clothes to the gifts brought by your mother, and instruct her about what to do with the other things: some of them you gave to her, knowing that she had a daughter who was younger than you and who’d appreciate your charity, and the others, such as the furniture, should be sent to the villagers, for you wanted your things to be with people who would make good use of them instead of letting them rot in a place to where you’d never come back. 

Among all of this, the last object you packed was the only thing you made a point about carrying by yourself, and the only thing you didn’t trust anyone to pack but yourself: the sword of your mother, which was sent to your house by Ubuyashiki-sama and now belonged to you. Your mother has been teaching you lessons since you were a teenager, but she hasn’t lived long enough to see if you were going to develop your own Breath; well, until that day you haven’t, but you’ve never stopped practicing even under your father’s disapproval. You didn’t know what you would find once you stepped into your husband’s house, but you wouldn’t want to depend on his protection on everything; besides, having a wife who knew how to wield a sword must be an advantage, right? 

The train of thoughts, feelings and concerns was such that you were robbed from sleep the night before the ceremony. You knew women who had their marriages arranged as well, but you never got to talk to them about it; you had no idea of how you were supposed to feel, or how you were supposed to see the whole thing. How one should feel when they saw themselves trapped in a situation from which they couldn’t get out? Without having answers, you just relied on the feeling that seemed reasonable to you, that is, utter fear. 

The next morning came silent and inexorable, just as the ones before it, and you saw yourself leaving your bed and taking care of your duties without putting your thoughts on them. It was only your body working by itself, saving your soul from the burden of being conscious, or perhaps you were just accepting your fate after a night of tears and rage. 

Having dismissed the maid’s help, you bathed and dressed alone, and left the house where the most important moments of your life took place without one last look. To be fair, your eyes were so sore and tired that they barely registered the appearance of the weather while you walked to the carriage, but you guessed it was a warm, sunny day, though not enough for you to get sweaty. Your father was already in the carriage’s interior; you took the seat beside him with no signs of acknowledging his presence. 

The coachman shook the reins and yelled something to the horse, and the crack of the wooden wheels was heard as the vehicle moved along the road. 

*** 

The ceremony took place in a building in the city of (…), near your father’s property, which served as the head office of a group of law professionals, including the man responsible for your marital contract. 

You wouldn’t call it a ceremony, really: it was more of a sequence of bureaucratic procedures than a social event with the purpose of uniting two families; a mere formality to allow you to move to a man’s house without ruining your reputation. It was quick, direct and cold like a financial operation, and the people involved seemed to make sure it looked like this. 

Your father led you to a sequence of stairs and then through a narrow corridor, until he stopped in front of a door and opened it, entering the room and inciting you to follow him. You did it, and found out you weren’t the first to arrive: the officiant was already in his position, behind a table upon which you saw an open book; at its right, there was a small inkwell and a feather; around him, two officers which function you couldn’t guess and couldn’t care about. And, finally, in front of the table and observing your arrival with a stern glare, the man who was about to become your husband. 

Whatever you were expecting to see, Shinjuro was nothing like you might have imagined, except for the fact that he was younger than you supposed – and, indeed, younger than your father – and stole the attentions among all those men despite the quiet, composed manners. Well, he would do it in any place he’d step in, for his appearance was extravagant, to say the least: on his severe face he carried a pair of orange eyes under two thick, black eyebrows, a wild trait that made you think of a lion; framing his expression and matching his eyes, he had thick, blond hair that decreased to red on its edges, spreading over his shoulders. And, as if his looks weren’t enough to draw the whole room’s attention, he was dressed in sober, dark clothing, more like someone attending a western funeral than a wedding. 

As you walked to the center of the room, led by your father, and took the spot beside Shinjuro, you felt your skin burning in discomfort under his merciless eyes. You breathed deep and, when he nodded to acknowledge you two, you made an effort to greet him, as well as the other men. 

I knew he wasn’t the same person my father claimed to know. He stated that he was good and trustful, but everything in this man screams danger. What kind of hell I’m getting into… 

The officiant announced the beginning of the ceremony, and you turned to him in silence. After a few, composed words to the new couple, he gave you both clear instructions on where to sign your names, and you did as he said, Shinjuro first, then you; you glanced at his hand offering you the feather and took it in a second, taking care your hand didn’t touch his. You tried not to think of your gestures as you wetted its tip on the ink, but a tremble reached your wrist the instant you approached the feather from the paper. 

So… That’s it. I write my name in a book and enter a path from where I can’t go back. 

The realization was too much to bear and time was passing, so you bit your inner cheek to prevent your mind to entertain the thought and scribbled your name at once. When you moved the feather away and put it back on the inkwell, your hand acted by itself, and your arm gone numb once you recoiled it to your side. 

Your mouth was dry, and a hole seemed to have taken the place of your heart. You barely noticed when the officiant and the other witnesses analyzed your signatures and approved them, bringing the ceremony to an end. You refused to believe all of that was real until the man announced you were free to go, and both Shinjuro and you turned away, preparing to leave. He didn’t bat an eye at you while doing so. 

The head of the Rengoku family stopped to exchange some words with your father. You were close enough to hear the conversation, but didn’t want to pay attention; you just wanted to leave this place, even though you weren’t going to a familiar one after it. 

You only understood their conversation was over when you heard your father’s voice calling your name. You turned to him and your stomach curled in disgust when you saw the pleading smile on his face, the only thing that reminded you of home and now a sign of everything you lost. You’ve never felt so alone. 

Later, you’d try to remember his exact words for you at that moment, but you’d find yourself unable to do it. Maybe it was a formal wish of good luck or something. The only thing you remembered was your reaction: you stared at him for a few seconds, then, without a word, you turned your face away, walking toward the door. You knew your husband was observing, but his approval was the least of your preoccupations now. 

*** 

Little was recalled by you from the travel to the Rengoku house, except that it was silent, even calm period. The only abnormality was caused by you: unlike your other belongings, who were sent in another vehicle ahead under the supervision of a servant, you decided you were going to carried your sword with you in the carriage, to everyone’s surprise and your father’s discontentment. 

That occasion was also when Shinjuro spoke to you for the first time. 

— Why are you doing this? 

The question, made when you were already in the carriage, was direct but not devoid of politeness, so you granted him an honest answer. 

— This sword once belonged to my mother, and now it is mine. If my father had his way, I’d never carry it with me, but I refuse to leave it behind — and, glancing at him, — I couldn’t risk him checking my things and subtracting it from them without my consent. 

Shinjuro only murmured an “I see” in response, and the conversation died there. 

You were beside the carriage’s window and might have slept to the warmth of the sun and the constant noise of the wheels in movement, but you weren’t sure if you did. As your body was now avoiding visible reactions, your spirit was suppressing the emotional rush for your own good, since no advantage would come from a breakdown in the middle of the road, right in front of your new spouse who, just like you, didn’t seem all pleased with the whole thing: sure, he didn’t show visible discontentment whether with your appearance or your manners, but you’ve been dealing with middle aged men for too long to sense when they were seeing something they didn’t find appropriate; and, in the present case, it was clear to you that Shinjuro already formed his opinion: to him, you were a stubborn, spoiled brat who didn’t have her way and was decided to make it everyone else’s problem. Yes, the idea of acting like that wandered through your mind for a while, but you thought you were better than this, and opted for a balance between bitterness and decency, not wearing plain clothing and displaying rude manners, but also not being extravagant in anything; still, you couldn’t convince the man of your good nature, and he let it clear with the inquiring about the sword, so now you completely gave up on seeking his favor. 

You were just waiting for the travel to end. 

Chapter 2

[innorogers]

Lucid

Steve Rogers x Dark Past Reader (You)

Summary: Steve finds out about your past. You're nothing as he thought you were. You are better.

Warning: Steve struggling / Past revelations / You don't have to read this: Chapter 1 - Insomnia, but it would enhance the experience if you did.

What do you do the night you meet the love of your life? You spend it with to him—talking, hugging, kissing, teetering on the edge of going further... but it doesn’t matter, because one day, you won’t recall the specifics. Years from now, future you will think back to this night and remember only the magic you felt, the moments your heart skipped a beat, and the wonder of it all.

In the present, as the first rays of sunlight rise from the east and touch your face, you can barely keep your eyes open, almost drifting off against Steve’s shoulder. Once he finds out you’ve just come off a 13-hour shift, he insists on walking you to your dorm. And though it seems to take every ounce of his willpower, he refuses your unspoken invitation to stay. Ever the gentleman.

After a shift that handed you five hours of overtime, you managed to get immediate compensation—and even figured out how to maximize your sleep: you'll shower later.

So, after Steve kisses you goodbye for the sixth time, you finally close the door and collapse into your pillow. Though, to be honest, you’d rather be falling asleep on his chest.

Captain America, on the other hand, was more awake than ever. The last time he felt this energized was when they thawed him from his popsicle state. It was like walking in sunlight, and he half-expected some cheesy background music to play as he moved through the halls.

But, as always, fate was waiting in the corner to throw a punch and kick his perfectly peach shaped ass.

You were still on his mind when he stepped into the Level 0 – Avengers Only common room. You hadn’t left his thoughts since he said goodbye to you... thirty minutes ago.

To his surprise, Natasha was already there – she was never up before 11 – typing something into a computer - she was also never on top of her paperwork -.

“Oh wow, this is rare.” Steve was in a mood—no, actually, "mood" wasn’t the right word. He was still wonderstruck, wrapped up in his own bubble of happiness because of meeting you. 

“Haha, hilarious,” Natasha deadpanned without even glancing up. “Go ahead and laugh now, Rogers. One day, that ‘I’m from the 40s, I don’t know this shit’ lame excuse is not gonna to fly anymore, and you’ll actually have to do some of this.”

“Well... by then, hopefully our genius philanthropist will have invented something to take this torture off our hands,” Steve replied, handing her a cup of coffee.

Now he had her attention.

“Someone’s in a good mood…” She raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Alright, spill.”

“Oh no, not a chance,” Steve shook his head, grinning. “Not happening.”

But after a pause, he added, “Hey, we have full access to everyone’s records here, right?”

“Yeah, Level 0 clearance,” Natasha replied, still focused on her typing. “You’ve got everything on your phone. Why?”

Steve glanced at your name in his phone and tried to sound casual. “What do you know about an engineer?” He wasn’t entirely sure if that was your title—you had mentioned it, but he had only been paying attention to the important stuff (like your favorite ice cream, song, hobbies, and what you wanted to do this Saturday night…).

“You’ll need to be more specific. I need an ID or at least a last name.”

“Illithya Lancaster,” he said softly, almost smiling as your name left his lips.

“Oh yeah,” Natasha responded immediately, “the one that goes by ‘Twelve,’ right?”

That got Steve’s full attention. He sat up straight, frowning. “‘Twelve’? Is that a nickname?”

“Code Name 12. Subject ID HE0012.” Natasha continued typing as though she were battling something. “You know what that means.”

“No.” Steve’s voice turned rigid. “I don’t.”

The typing finally stopped, and Natasha swiveled around in her chair to face him. “H for Hydra, E for experiment, number 12. She was one of Hydra’s experiments, Steve.”

That was a bucket of ice water he hadn’t expected. Right to the spine. Steve took a few seconds to find his voice.

“What?”

“There.” Natasha handed him an iPad with all the information: “See, here she is. Um… mission rescue R804, Siberia… Sokovia… yeah, she’s on Hydra's top confidential list, one of the few we’ve got. Stark moved mountains to save her from rotting in a federal prison for eternity.” She spoke quickly as she read, her voice unusually soft, full of compassion.

Steve paused for a moment, trying to recall if you’d mentioned anything about a nickname last night, but he didn’t think you had.

He could barely think. His voice, distant and faint, whispered: “‘Twelve’? What… happened to the other eleven?”

Swiping the iPad, Natasha didn’t even look up, just shrugged: “What do you think?” She didn’t notice Steve’s face go pale instantly. 

“Illithya was the only survivor, barely. Used and discarded as anything Hydra could imagine… like something disposable.” 

She sighed. “I’ve seen awful things, but this is one of the files I try to forget.”

Steve’s mind was in turmoil. He couldn’t think, and the pain in his chest seemed to crush every fiber of his being.

He couldn’t believe it. You, his treasured little secret, his enchanted, magical midsummer night, this beautiful, pure soulmate he’d fallen with—the one who told him a fairy would bring him all the stars—had been used, abused, treated like a guinea pig, nothing more than a lab rat?

He was beginning to understand the emotions rising within every cell of his body: a mix of uncontrollable anger, sadness, and fear.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, his voice wavered slightly: “...How… how long was she experimented on?”

Natasha set the file aside and looked him straight in the eye. There was empathy there. She knew Steve was shaken, so she softened her voice as much as she could, though her words remained honest.

“‘Till we got her? A lifetime. She was born and raised in captivity. Her entire existence was based on an experiment.”

Steve closed his eyes. It was more than he could bear. The pain he felt intensified with every word Nat spoke. 

He clenched his fists, veins bulging with rage. How could they. 

“How did you rescue her?” He found himself asking in a calm voice, as if inquiring about any other case.

“We didn’t. She escaped, and we found her. After you and Tony split in Siberia.” Nat pulled up the file again on the tablet and handed it to him, but Steve didn’t look. He wasn’t ready.

“So, until she got away…” Steve heard his voice, sounding unnervingly emotionless, and he hated it. “Was she under Hydra’s control her entire life?”

Black Widow didn’t respond at first. She nodded, just barely, while watching him. She was using the spy stare, reading everything beneath the surface, interpreting every unspoken word, every pause, every silence was a puzzle piece for her to figure out the entire picture.

“A lifetime under Hydra…” Steve whispered.

And he felt awful for saying it.

But there it was, a poisoned seed growing in the shadows of his mind. Steve wanted to bury it deep, but he couldn’t stop. 

The doubt crept in, spreading like a toxin—the thought that everything you’d been through had changed you.

How could you ever purge Hydra’s venom from your veins? Was it still there, lurking in every dormant cell, slowly expanding like a plague, consuming all the good, the magic, the purity in you? Corrupting you?

“Stop,” Natasha suddenly said.

She gave him a look Steve recognized—she was about to ask something that would make him think, really think.

After a deep breath, she spoke: “If you’re asking about her, it’s because you’ve met her, right? So, what do you think? Did she seem like a…villain? Or was she different? Special, maybe?”

Steve leaned back into the chair at her words, the memory of you filling his mind again, your innocence, your weird yet adorable responses, your naivety, your smile…You.

The touch of your hand, the softness of your voice, the pureness of your soul. The way you’d clung to him, spoke to him, trusted him, kissed him. He exhaled slowly, a ghost smile on his face. 

“No. I never thought of her as a villain. Or as any…negative. She was different, more than different. She was…she is…incredible…she’s wonderful…she’s…” Perfect.

Natasha remained in silence. Staring at him. Then she leaned up, her words like splashed ripples on the spring's surface. “Why do you trust Barnes, Steve?”

Her tone was calm and serene, yet it made Steve clench his fists. The question was unexpected, but not unanticipated—he knew she’d ask; she always pushed when she had that look.

“He was, or is, more Hydra than anyone we’ve ever rescued from those hellholes, yet you risked everything to save him.”

“That’s different. I know Bucky, he’s all I have left of my past. And he was brainwashed.” You weren’t. You acted, and you act by choice… don’t you? Steve panicked at the thought. Everything you did, you did with your heart… right? Everything that happened last night, was true…Right?

“So if she wasn’t brainwashed, she’s guilty?” A slight ironic smile tugged at Nat’s lips. “Even though she never asked to be born into a Hydra experiment, or to live in captivity. Is she at fault, Steve? For not trying hard enough to escape?”

Steve froze at her words, realizing what she was getting at. You weren’t brainwashed, no, much worse, you’d grown up knowing nothing of life outside Hydra. You weren’t just a victim. No. He thought of you. You were a survivor. A fighter.

“That sounded a bit protective.” Steve looked at his fellow Avenger, studying her expression. “Was it just a rescue mission, Nat? You don’t usually…attach to people.”

Letting out a laugh, Natasha returned to her usual mysterious, lazy smile. “I’ll let you find out for yourself.” 

She hesitated but finally spoke under Steve’s gaze: “She’s… different, Steve.”

A slight, warm smile crossed Black Widow’s face. 

“She’s kind…and good. I don’t know how to explain it, but she’s innocent. Her heart… it’s pure.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at Nat’s words. He could hear the awe in her voice, and it made him think of you: The way you’d looked at him, the sparkle in your eyes. Tiny butterflies fluttered in his stomach as he remembered the way you’d laughed and how they took flight when he kissed you.

Without even realizing it, his voice became as tender as it could be: “Yes. She is all those things.”

“Like I said.” Natasha leaned back in her chair, her fingers returning to the keyboard. “I’ll let you find out for yourself.”

LAB 278—it had taken some time to find.

Steve silently thanked Jarvis for lighting the way as he stepped into your lab—your private, secluded lab, hidden almost a 20-minute walk from the central facilities. Steve hadn’t even known this place existed on campus.

He pushed open the door and saw you through the thick glass. He couldn’t help but marvel as he took in the entire space. Your lab looked like a greenhouse, with plants everywhere—on the desk, under the tables, on the floor, shelves, and windows. Long curtains of leaves hung down from the ceiling like rain falling through broken glass. 

Large screens dominated the room, and then Steve’s eyes widened at what he saw next. 

An armory. Their. Armory. 

A bow being analyzed by lasers, prototypes of metal gauntlets, shattered helmets, and torn suits.

And then, he saw you.

You were cleaning his shield.

Everything fell into silence when his gaze rested on you. The whole place became a quiet green ocean, so still that Steve could almost hear the plants breathing. And his own heartbeat. That stopped when you lifted the shield and gently kissed it.

“Do a good job,” he heard you whisper to it. “Protect him. Keep him safe.”

Steve snapped out of it as those words echoed in his mind. He had a hundred questions, but they vanished in that instant. He wasn’t even thinking—he was reacting—as he stepped forward and opened the door.

The look on your face when you heard the noise and turned around was indescribable. All the tension in your expression softened, and the light in your eyes brightened. 

Steve wondered, how he’d been so blind, so stupid, to believe some reports instead of trusting…you.

“Oh. Hi…” You smiled, joy sparkling in every corner of the room.

God, that smile. The happiness in your eyes at seeing him weakened his knees. He spoke, his voice softer than he’d expected. 

“Hey...”

You almost run to him under instinc. Wanting to move closer, to take his hands, but…you weren’t sure. Was it too much? Too fast? What are you (or this) supposed to be? Are you even dating? Will he hate it? So, you blushed and stood still. “I…I um… I’m so glad you’re here.”

Steve noticed the way you flinched, the way you wanted to reach out but held yourself back. It made him feel…sad, like something was cracking in his chest. He wanted to reach out and take your hand. But he didn’t—not yet. 

Instead, he stepped closer, his voice gentle as he smiled. “…And I’m very glad to be here.”

“Oh.” You weren’t sure if it was the lack of sleep or if you were just lost in his eyes, but your mind was racing, and you couldn’t stop yourself from blurting out something dumb, like really dumb.

“I missed you.”

Oh, what the hell. You wanted to bite your tongue. Especially when you saw Steve freeze. Okay, that was stupid as fuck, you thought, looking down, unsure of what to say next.

“I’ll take it back, I’m sorry, that was stu—” But before you could finish, you were pulled into a tight embrace.

Steve pulled you towards him, wrapping his arms around you in a tight, protective hold. As if he wanted you to melt within him.

He realized how absurd he had been for holding this back, how deeply he craved you. Like a primal longing, like a dying plant thirsting for a drop of dew, or desperate for air.

“Please…don’t be.” He whispered, pressing your head to his shoulder, inhaling the scent of your hair, his eyes closed as he sighed. “I missed you too.”

“Oh.” You awkwardly ran your hands along his back, fumbling at first, before simply giving in and hugging him tighter. You caressed his neck until he rested his forehead against yours, exhaling deeply.

And you smiled. 

“So…you did find out, huh?”

He stood silently, with his chin in your shoulder. And after a while he said in a bitter tone: “How’d you know?”

“‘Cause you look exactly like Tony and Natasha did when they found out. And… because you’re in my lab. I mean, I don’t think this place is a hot spot, huh?” You laughed and broke the hug slightly, but he tightened his grip on your waist, unwilling to let you pull away. 

You caressed his face, inhaling the warmth of his breath, and looked into his eyes. 

"Steve, what happened to me isn’t a burden for you to carry, you know that, right?”

Steve froze. 

Isn’t it? 

Wasn’t it because he hadn’t destroyed Hydra when he had the chance?

Because they didn’t find out sooner?

Because… he wasn’t there?

You struggled to read people, especially someone you cared about, so when you saw the pale, stiff look on his face, you paralyzed.

Was that why he came? To tell you it was over? Well…to be honest, you wouldn’t blame him. After all… you were you, and he was… Steve Rogers. And you were…Hydra’s Frankenstein.

That thought must have shown on your face, because Steve noticed the change in your expression—fear and shame, like you were some kind of Quasimodo who had his mask ripped off.

The mere thought made Steve’s blood boil—the idea that he might reject you because of your past, as if you were to blame for things you couldn’t control. As you were…sinful and…bad.

He suddenly cupped your face and spoke firmly, the words echoing from his heart, the same words he should have said the moment Natasha told him the truth.

“Hey, hey… look at me. Look at me.” He stared straight into your eyes. "Don’t doubt me. Don’t doubt… us.” His voice was filled with protectiveness and anger. “I’m here, and I…” I’m falling for you.

“Do you regret it?” Your voice trembled. “Last night… do you regret… meeting me?”

“No.” His voice was steady and resilient, unwavering and unshakable: “Not in a million lifetimes.”

You held your breath for a moment, trying not to cry. Then spoke as you were telling a secret. 

“I always wondered…What would I have been like if I were… normal? If I had normal parents—a father working in a bank, a mom as a teacher. I’d go to school, go to prom, fall in love… have friends… but…” 

You pressed your fingers into his hand and smiled softly.

“… I wouldn’t change anything about my past, if that was the road I had to take, that leaded me…to finally meet you.”

Steve felt like he could’ve started crying at any moment. 

Your past had left a crack in his heart, something he could never fix, something that would always hurt. And yet, you said it was all worth it? All the suffering, all the pain… just to meet him? How could he… how could he deserve you? He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe.

“God…” he murmured, his voice filled with pain. “How can you say that… how can you still be so…” 

Kind. Good. Pure.

Natasha was damn right. You were everything she said, and more.

“Hmmm… Maybe…” You thought out loud. "Maybe I always knew I’d meet you someday, and I had to be good enough… to be… worthy.”

Steve exhaled, trying to calm the storm in his heart and mind. 

The weight of your words hit him hard. He paused for a moment before he pulled you against him, his arms wrapping around you tightly, as if that could protect you from all the misfortune or pain that might come in the years ahead.

“Damn it…”

His voice broke as he whispered.

“I can’t believe I found you…”

“Well then,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. 

“Thank you for finding me.”

Time stilled for a moment, but before he could think, Steve’s body had already reacted, he pinned you against the workbench as his hand weaved through your hair, and his lips pressed yours in a deep kiss. 

He couldn’t hold back anymore, he needed you, wanted you, to hold you as close as possible, without letting you go ever again.

All the composure he had been trying to maintain disappeared the moment he felt you. 

Your lips, your tongue, your scent… Any sense of reason was hanging by a thread. 

He lifted you onto the desk, sending pens and books scattering to the floor, but he didn’t give a damn. Not when your legs wrapped around his hips and you moaned his name as his hand tightened around your waist.

“Jesus…”

The way your voice sounded, the way you were looking at him, the way you were sitting with your legs around him, everything was driving him desperately crazy, struggling to keep control to not to tear your clothes off and make you his right there. 

He broke the kiss before doing something reckless, but his body was tense, and his breathing panting. 

“You’re driving me crazy…” He breathes heavily, leaving a deep kiss in your forehead.

“What?” Your mind was still spinning from his kiss, and you replied without thinking: “Well yeah, welcome to the club.” 

Steve left out a laugh, All the intense revelations from earlier had nearly made him forget just how incredible your comebacks were. 

He looks down and kisses you again, this time with more tenderness than passion, and he speaks as he continues. 

“I’ve been thinking about this since I left you this morning…”

“Can you…” You could barely form a word without moaning: “Can you think…of taking this further?”

“…” 

That made him stopped. 

The suggestion sent a shiver down his spine. Oh you and your amazing comebacks. His mind suddenly flashed, imagining all the things he’d wanted to do to you, maybe in his room, in the bed, with you under him, moaning his name as you just did, only louder and louder…

Steve quickly shook the thought from his mind, trying to force himself back to reality. 

“God… please don’t tempt me.” He could feel his body reacting to his own imagination, so he pressed his forehead against yours, clenching his fists, trying to regain some control.

“I…” You wanted to say, "I don’t mind," or even, 'I don’t give a damn if you take me right now...You know what, there’s actually a bed at the back of this lab.' But then his phone rang.

“What the hell…” He glanced at the caller ID and groaned, “For gods sake, what timing…” One hand reached for the phone while the other held you firmly. “I’m sorry, babe, give me a sec.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of him calling you that for the first time, but before you could process it, Tony Stark’s voice echoed through the empty lab.

“I don’t know what you are doing there, Cap…And trust me, I don’t wanna know…but Jarvis just sent me a reminder, to remind you, that there are cameras everywhere in the working campus. Everywhere.” 

You could tell there was a humorous tone in Iron man’s voice.

“Even in remotely located labs for top secret employees.”

End but TBC-

Continue to:

3: Reverie |

4: Nightmare |

5: Awakening |

6: Dusk |

7: Hypnagogia |

8: Lull |

9: Vigil |

10: Eclipse |

Alright, thanks for reading up to here. Hope you enjoyed it!! <3

So when I started writing Part 1, I was like, 'Oh, let's just write cute one-shots and short stuff.' And here I am with a complex OC and a struggling Steve. I'm so sorry for that :3 I just can't help myself!

Part 3 comes with 'the one night I made you mine and made you beg' thing I was hoping I'd finally get to. I promise! (Still have no idea how I'm writing that through my working shifts, tho.)

Okay, have a good one <3 Lmk if you liked it ? Report and everything is highly appreciated <3 :D

Love.,

Moon.

[fuhratheyluv]

tuesdays with you!

Your crush who you were assigned to tutor for extra credits… turns out to be terrible at math but incredible at making you laugh. At first, he shows up late, forgetting his notebook but never his iced coffee, which he starts sharing with you because "it tastes better with company". As weeks pass, tutoring becomes less about equations and more about quiet afternoons in the library, your pens brushing fingers, your doodles appearing in his margins. He starts memorizing formulas just to impress you, and you start looking forward to Tuesdays more than weekends. Then one day, he shows up early, nervous, holding a folded piece of paper with a graph on it. You look closer — it's a coordinate plane. "X marks the spot where I fell for you" He said.

chat this MIGHT be a tiny bit ooc, cuz this is my first genuinely written work and i'm not that good at writing, ft. Bokuto and Atsumu :))

Bokuto

Wins your heart by being his loud, unfiltered, hilarious self

Starts off distracted but eventually works harder just to impress you.

At first he thought you were one of those grumpy tutors who have no patience and immediately sigh once he gets a question wrong. He was incorrect of course! You had the patience of an angel with him, even when he spilled his iced mocha on the worksheets you didn't react negatively, only quickly grabbing the nearest thing you could use to clean it up.

One day, after your tutoring session, he approaches you before leaving the library... Is he hiding something behind him?

"Okay okay okay, don't laugh!" He giggles nervously, "I made you a.. uhm.. confession worksheet?" He reveals a piece of paper that was folded up in half with drawings on it.

"It's a silly homemade quiz called How To Know If You Like Bokuto Too!" Bokuto flips the paper over, showing the other page. The title on the top of the page with two questions under it.

Question 1: Do you like loud guys with great hair and better hearts?

Question 2: Do you want to maybe go on a date with me Tuesday instead of tutoring?

And at the bottom, Final Answer = I like you, Like.. A LOT

"I might mess up numbers, but I’m really sure about this."

Atsumu

He was late to the first session, obviously — waltzing in like he owned the place, no notebook, no pen, just way too much confidence.

"Sorry, I had to save a volleyball from crashin’ into the third-years’ lunch. I’m basically a hero." He grabs a chair and sits opposite to you. (You later found out he was just napping)

He was terrible at math, but even worse at focus, constantly interrupting with unrelated questions like: “Why do letters gotta be in math? Who invited x?” and "So if x equals my GPA, and y equals how hot you are, how do I get those numbers to add up?”

You threaten to quit, and he grins even wider. Once asked completely serious: “If I kiss you every time I get somethin’ right, would I pass?”

Then came the quiet shifts, the way he started actually bringing a pencil. the way he leaned in when you explained something. the way he stopped looking at the clock — and started looking at you.

"Hey… you’re really good at this, y’know? Not just math. Like… makin’ people wanna try."

He was still Atsumu — loud, cocky, and full of dramatic flair. But you started noticing the real version, too. The one who stayed up the night before, trying to understand a formula just so he could see your face light up when he got it right.

Shockingly, he shows up five minutes earlier than usual. His hair all messed up as if he had been in a hurry, two cups of coffee in hand. He hands you one with a sticky note. "I didn't know how to say it out loud so I wrote it down, kinda.. haha"

You unfold the sticky note once, then twice. Inside, in his messy handwriting, reads: "If I was smart, I’d know how to tell ya this right. But I’m not. So here’s the truth: Tuesdays stopped being about extra credit a long time ago. I don’t get math. But I get you. And that’s the only thing I actually wanna understand.”

He’s looking anywhere but at you, tapping his fingers on the lid of his cup. “So... if you feel the same, maybe let me take you somewhere that isn’t a library next time?”

I'm actually too tired to write more but lmk if y'all want a genshin version, reblogs are appreciated!! I just wanna see if this does well though 🤧🤧.

[mas-o-kissed]

(FROM THE IMPCO ARCHIVES, IT’S PART 1 OF AN EPISODE OF BRAINDRAIN.

CW: hypnotic intox, dubcon hypno, public humiliation, kidnapping)

It’s the middle of the night, and your television flickers. There’s a static haze, a soft droning. As the picture comes into focus, a jaunty, old fashioned tune plays over the title card:

BRAINDRAIN

with Imp

Camera slowly zooms in on a small, effeminate man, grinning at the camera. A lower third tells you that his name is Imp. The image is hazy, as if it’s an old broadcast, but you could swear he has horns and a devil’s tail. Are those fangs? What is this show?

“Good evening, Impsomniacs! It’s 3 o’clock, and you know what that means. It’s time for your favorite game show: BRAINDRAIN.”

The camera follows as Imp walks across the set.

“Now, I’ve been hosting this show for many years. It’s been so long, we don’t even remember that far back! The before times, the long long ago, it all fades into nothing, like a dark void at the center of my mind, and no matter how hard I try to remember, it’s like we’re filled with this emptiness. It’s frightening, but it’s exciting at the same time. Like, what even is hiding in that dark space? Is it better if we never find out? This guy knows what I’m talking about!”

Imp points lightheartedly at an audience member, who appears to be asleep. AUDIENCE LAUGHS.

“HA! Haha. Yes.” (Stage whisper, into his headset) “Get that guy out of here. He’s too far gone to laugh at any of my jokes.”

The audience member is swiftly carted away.

“We have a very special player on our show tonight. You might recognize him from such places as snooping around Impco at 6am, or the holding room where we keep all of our prisoner— I mean contestants.”

Curtains move aside to reveal a man chained to a podium by his neck and hands. There is a gag in his mouth. He struggles against the binding. The messy scrawl on his name card says: “POSTMAN (ALLEGEDLY)”

“Usually I’m not up so early in the morning, but today I was woken up by a terrible horn-ache, and that’s when I found contestant number one poking around the facility. What do you have to say for yourself, contestant?”

Imp removes the gag from the man’s mouth.

“I was delivering a package, you lunatic!”

“Oh? Really? And what was in this package?”

“That tie! You’re wearing it right now!”

Imp looks down at the tie around his neck.

“HA! Hahaha! Oh darling, I sure wish I believed you. But you see, we’ve already downloaded dozens of fun triggers directly into your brain. It would be such a shame to waste them. Not only that, but our audience is just aching to see what’s going to happen to you. They’re ravenous. Like dogs. Isn’t that right, folks?”

APPLAUSE AND BARKING.

The man continues to struggle.

“Now, I think we all know the rules by now, but because I’m so nice, I’ll explain how the game is played.

I spin the wheel of post-hypnotic suggestions (we’re still coming up with a snappier name for it).

Whatever it lands on is the trigger I’ll use before I ask you a question.

Will you have to answer a complicated math problem after having your IQ reduced by 30 points? Will I make you into my puppet and then ask you to grab something just out of reach? Will it be a mysterious third thing?

You don’t know! And neither do I! That’s what makes the game so fun. Are you ready to play, Luke?”

“Let me go! M-my name’s not even Luke. It’s Daniel.”

“GREAT! Time to spin the wheel of post-hypnotic suggestions. Ooooooh!”

Imp spins the large, multicolored wheel. In each color is a different image, indicating a different trigger. As the wheel spins, Imp’s eyelids start fluttering. He watches it, half-lidded, a blank look on his face. The wheel has stopped spinning. Five seconds pass. An Imptern in a black t-shirt and headset rushes onto the stage. She snaps her fingers in front of Imp’s face.

“Bwuh.. wha..?”

She hurriedly whispers, “Sir, you know you’re not supposed to look directly at the wheel.”

“It’s my show. I can look wherever I want.”

“You were just zoning out, again!”

“You know I can’t be effected by hypnosis, doll. Now, get off the stage, I’m trying to do a show.”

She rushes off. TEPID AUDIENCE LAUGHTER. Imp gestures to the wheel, which has landed on a drawing of a bottle.

“Oh, a classic! Are you ready for the trigger, darling?”

“P-please don’t, I-I…”

“Hmm, stuttering and slurring like that. Oh dear… How much have you had to drink?”

The contestant’s eyelids flutter. He looks confused. His cheeks flush.

“Whas… happening?”

“You heard me. How much have you had to drink?”

“I’ve haven’t had… anything. I… I feel…”

The contestant giggles, clearly drunk. AUDIENCE LAUGHS.

“Uh oh, I think he’s had a bit too much.”

“I don… nunderstand. I didn’t think it wass real but I ffeel…”

“Didn’t think what was real? Hypnosis? Brainwashing? If that was true, we’d all be out of the job! HA! Ohh, you poor thing, you look like you’re going to be sick. Are you ready for your test, darling?”

“Fffuck.”

“No swearing dear, we’re on LIVE TV! Considering your pitiful state, I’ll keep it simple. Your question is: If one doctor doctors another doctor, does the doctor who doctors the doctor doctor the doctor the way the doctor he is doctoring doctors? Or does he doctor the doctor the way the doctor who doctors doctors?

“I… wh… what?”

“I’m sorry, that’s wrong. I don’t know what the answer is, but I know that that’s definitely not it.”

“Youu asked me a trick queshtion! Ompurpose! How’m I supposed to answer something like… that…? Shit… the room wontstop spinn..ninng…”

“Easy there, tiger. It’s time for a quick commercial break, but don’t you fret. We’ll be back to seal our dear contestant’s fate after this! (BUY IMPCO PRODUCTS!)”

There’s a commercial for Impco brand hypno-goggles. You’re not sure what hypno-goggles are, or what you’re even watching. But that Imp seems so nice. And he said to buy Impco products. So maybe you should…

(Decided to break this up with the commercials since it’s long but part 2 is coming soon! When I post it I will link it here.)

[bambibit3s]

Enter through the door like a normal person damn it! (Chapter 1)

Ticci Toby x f!reader (NWSF)

WC: 5k

Summary: City life was great—until it wasn’t. The people, the noise, even your apartment started suffocating you. So, you ran. Your grandma had left you a small, half-broken house in a quiet village when she passed. The house was a wreck, but you fixed it up. Made it yours. Neighbors were kind—if you count the nearest one living twenty minutes away—and the old lady next door told you stories about your grandma and local gossip. The most interesting part? The folklore. About a tall man with tentacles, and another about a twitchy guy with axes—said to be possessed by a demon. Creepy, sure, but you didn’t believe any of it.

Until the night you met him again.

CW: (!These elements are introduced later on, not in the first few chapters. Please take care while reading. Reader discretion is advised.!) story contains themes and scenes that may be disturbing to some readers, including gore, Creepy / unsettling imagery, Stalking, murder, psychological trauma, Sexual content (consensual and non consensual), childhood abuse, Mentions of sexual assault (not graphic, but referenced), Trauma flashbacks, references to alcohol, mental health struggles (including dissociation and hallucinations), and strong language. MDNI!!

Enjoy!

—————————————————————————————————————

“Almost Home’’ chapter 1

Get up. eat. work. sleep

That’s how your everyday life sounded. You hated each day. Every morning was torture—dragging yourself out of bed, choking down something to eat, going to work, and coming home so fucking exhausted you couldn’t even change into pajamas.

It was an endless cycle of nothing that kept repeating—

Over.

And over.

And over.

And

over.

Back when you were just a teenager, you used to dream about graduating from high school, getting into your dream college, and finally starting the exciting part of life. And yeah, you got into that college.

Was it exciting? Sure.

But it wasn’t the experience you’d hyped yourself up for. Not even close.

Okay, fine, you thought, maybe when I get a real job, then I’ll feel that thrill.

And now—here you are. Waiting for something amazing while the most precious part of your life has already slipped through your fingers. And you didn’t even notice it leaving. You tried talking about it. Older people hit you with their usual:

“Oh, what’s there to be sad about? You’re healthy. You’ve got youth. You have time!”

Your friends laughed—not in a cruel way, more like a you’re being dramatic kind of way—and threw in a joke about you “needing a man.”

Right.

Because your last relationship ended so magically. You lost trust in, what, 99% of the male population?

You weren’t craving another guy. They all end up acting like jerks anyway. So you laughed with your friends. Played along. As usual.

You never thought it’d get to this point, but you finally caved and saw a professional.

A psychologist.

If someone told you a few years ago that you’d be paying someone to sit there, nod, and give you suggestions, your ego would’ve exploded. But eventually, you sucked it up and went, Which ended in disappointment.

She told you—very gently—that you needed to change something.

Your routine.

Gee, thank you.

And then she dropped the second bomb:

She thought you had depression.

Haha.

Yeah.

No.

Well… maybe, But not now Right?

You had depression when you were younger, but that was just the classic overdramatic teenage phase. No one gave a shit then, and no one would care now.

Still… if you were being honest with yourself, you’d admit you wanted to run away.

Okay, needed to run away.

These past few months were hell.

You dreamed about disappearing—running off into the woods where no one could bother you ever again. Honestly? Sounded like heaven.

The days started to blur. You stopped showing up to work. Stopped texting your friends back. Stopped leaving your bed. They came to check on you. Knocked on your door.

You didn’t answer.

Your phone rang and buzzed until you threw it into the corner of the room. You didn’t even care anymore.

Pathetic.

Your throat felt dry—painfully dry.

You forced yourself up, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders like some shitty version of Harry Potter with an invisibility cloak, and stumbled toward the kitche—

SLAM.

“FUCK.”

Your pinkie toe caught the goddamn table leg. The one in the middle of the living room that made no sense being there. You’d been promising to move it since you moved in and now you were curled up on the floor, screaming curses you didn’t even know you knew.

Stupid table.

Stupid room.

Stupid—

Oh.

What’s that?

As you lay there, gripping your throbbing foot, your eyes landed on something.

A pink notebook.

Your grandmother’s.

Her signature color. You used to hate it as a little girl—too “girly,” you’d said. But now? You’d grown to love it. It reminded you of her. You reached for it.

How the hell did it end up here?

You must’ve left it on the table ages ago and forgotten. It was untouched, with dust gathering on the cover. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d cleaned your place. You peeled it open. The old paper crackled, and your fingers trembled as you flipped the first page. Your grandmother’s handwriting stared back at you—neat, round, soft. She’d always had beautiful handwriting, even with her worn, shaking hands. Your eyes moved slowly across the page and just like that—

You remembered.

Her voice.

Her smell.

Her arms around you at night, cradling you to sleep.

“My Dearest girl

If you are reading this letter, it means that life has carried you forward, just as it should. I hope you’ve laughed loudly, loved deeply, and chased your dreams with all the fire in your heart. But I also know that sometimes the world can feel too heavy, too loud, too much. That is why I am leaving you this little cottage.

Whenever you feel tired, whenever the city steals too much of your light, I want you to come here. Let the trees remind you how to breathe, let the walls hold you the way my arms once did, and let the quiet heal whatever needs healing. This place has always been filled with love, with warmth, with the scent of fresh bread and the sound of rain on the roof. It is yours now. Make it your own. Fill it with laughter, music, or silence—whatever your soul needs most.

And if ever you miss me, sit by the old oak tree. Close your eyes. I will be there, in the rustling leaves and the whisper of the wind.

With all my love, always,

Grandma”

You felt your eyes slowly watering up, your throat closing up. Along with letter there was key.. She was so sweet towards you when everything felt too much for you. You looked around your messy house, everything is mess resembling you.

That’s it

You wipe your tears and prepare yourself to get your shit together.

After a week you found yourself in your car. The sun was setting as you turned off the highway, guiding your car down the winding village road. You already packed, the backseat was filled with suitcases and your luggage. In the smooth hum of the engine contrasted with the rougher asphalt beneath the tires, a subtle vibration traveled up through the steering wheel. You lowered the window slightly, letting in the crisp countryside air, tinged with the scent of damp earth and distant wood smoke. Before you left you decided to say goodbye to your precious friends.. they were sad but you just genuinely needed to change everything and for your sake of they supported you. The dashboard cast a soft glow over your hands as you shifted gears, the car responding effortlessly to your touch. With every turn, the familiar sights of home grew closer—the rolling hills, the scattered cottages, and finally, the narrow road leading to your childhood house.

Tires rolled on the dirt slowly. Man, those roads were so bumpy.

“Here we are…” You mutter, eyes fixed on the cottage that once felt like magic.

You pulled the car up slowly, headlights sweeping across the weathered wooden door and the vines now swallowing the stone walls. It looked… tired. Like it had been holding its breath this whole time, waiting for someone to come back.

The engine gave a soft purr before dying into silence. You sat there for a second, letting the quiet settle. Then you opened the door. Your foot hit the ground—uneven, soft with damp earth and leaves.

The air was cooler here. Heavy with the scent of moss, wet wood, and something else—something old. Familiar. Like pages of a forgotten book.

You shut the car door gently, your gaze drifting up to the dark windows. No lights. No movement. Just stillness. Just memory.

You stood in front of the door, heart thudding quietly. The house had lost its spark—no more flowerpots, no bright curtains waving behind windows. The vines had claimed nearly every inch, curling over the stone like fingers refusing to let go.

You reached into your pocket, your fingers curling around the cold metal key. It slid into the lock like it never left. A soft click. The door creaked open, releasing a wave of dust and cold air.

“Ugh…” you coughed, waving the air in front of your face. “So messy…”

You stepped inside, leaving the door open behind you. The living room was exactly how you remembered—and completely different. Everything was covered in a fine layer of dust, like someone pressed pause on life and forgot to press play again.

To your right was the kitchen—small, still, full of quiet ghosts. To your left, the old sofa sagged with time. You crossed the floor slowly, every step stirring dust motes in the fading light.

In front of you, another door. You opened it, and there they were—the stairs. Steep and narrow, still creaking the same way they used to when you and your cousins snuck snacks upstairs.

Beneath the stairs, another door leads to the garden. And next to that—the crawl space. You smiled. You used to stare at that tiny door after watching Coraline, convinced there was a better version of your life on the other side. One where your mom was still alive.

You looked up. Upstairs, there were three bedrooms. You remembered how the pillows used to swallow your whole body. How you used to sink into them and pretend you were sleeping in the clouds.

“I wonder if the garden’s still…” You murmured, trailing off as you pulled open the back door.

It was wild. Overgrown. Like nature had taken it back the second your grandma left. Leaves, weeds, tangled roots—

“OH MY GOD—”

You jumped back as something black moved in the mess.

Then—

“Meow.”

A cat. Small, black, a little scruffy. Probably feral. Definitely adorable.

“AWWWW KITTYYYYYY—” you gasped, squatting down instantly with arms spread out. “Come on, baby. Come here, baby,” you cooed, sticking your hand out like a peace offering.

The cat blinked. Judged you. Looked at you as if you were crazy. You were talking to a cat so you probably were..

Then it hissed and bolted into the weeds.

“Rude.”

You stood back up, brushing off your knees. “That hurt more than my last breakup,” you grumbled.

You turned to look back at the house. It loomed quietly. Old, tired, forgotten—but not lost.

“So much work…”

You exhaled.

But maybe that’s what you needed.

Something to rebuild.

2 weeks later

“Oh come on let me pet you I’ve been feeding you for two weeks now! You eat fish every day like some cat royalty!” You grumble at the cat as she glares at you from the roof, 4 four-inch fish in her mouth. She stretches as if mocking your efforts. That bastard looks down and runs away.

“I will make you let me pet you one day. JUST WATCH!” You shout at her as if she understood anything you said.

Efforts against that sassy cat were useless.

Cats are so weird. They don’t trust you even if you show nothing but loyalty towards them.

Reminds you of someone doesn’t it?

You sigh and head back inside. The front door creaks open, and you’re met with the familiar scent of wood polish and faint lavender. The house is livable now. You’d scrubbed every inch, rearranged furniture, swapped out old fabrics, and hunted down wallpaper that almost matched the original vintage design. Not perfect—but close. You kept the atmosphere, the soul of it.

Just like your mom taught you.

You drop onto the sofa, body limp with exhaustion. It’s barely 3 p.m. Why are you this tired?

Knock knock.

“About time,” you murmur, dragging yourself up. You open the door with a smile. “Hi, Ms. Smith!”

“Hello, dear.” Her warm smile meets yours, the familiar hunch of her figure leaning onto her wooden cane. She’s small—smaller than you even—and walks with the shuffle of someone whose bones remember every winter.

She was your grandmother’s childhood friend. The kind of woman who always had stories. Who still carried your grandma’s memory like a piece of herself. You’d told her she didn’t need to take the 20-minute walk every time—but she always said she wanted the fresh air. Honestly, you were glad she visited so often. You could tell she saw you as her grandchild. That was sweet. Comforting.

She steps in, making her way straight to the kitchen table. Always the same chair—tucked near the wall. Her spot, even before you moved in.

“How’s your day goin’, sweetheart?” she asks with her usual lilting tone, settling into the seat like she never left.

“Good, good. How about you?” you ask, heading to the kitchen to make coffee.

“Hmm… I’m good,” she hums, but there’s a tone. The kind that makes you pause, eyebrows ready to rise with a silent What’s wrong?

But she beats you to it.

“Do you remember those folklores you used to obsess over as a kid?” Ms. Smith asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet like a breeze through an open window.

“Uhh… yeah? Why?” you replied, eyeing her over the rim of your coffee cup.

She hesitated, fingers curling tighter around the warm ceramic. “Well… I know young people don’t believe in village stories anymore, but… I heard someone was kidnapped. In the woods. Just yesterday.”

You snorted. Loudly.

“Ms. Smith, they’re not real. Come on. A tall white man in a suit who kidnaps people? That’s called a stockbroker. Or a city landlord.”

Her face didn’t move. Still frowning. Still serious.

“No, no, I mean it,” she insisted. “I don’t think it was just a creep. There aren’t creeps in this village… at least not the kind crazy enough to murder someone. I know everyone here.”

You always envied her blind faith in humanity.

For some time there was this comfortable silence. She looked at you for some time. Soft smile forming on her lips.

“How fast time flies…” she murmured. “You grew up so much. I remember when you were this small.” She cradled an imaginary baby in her arms, her fingers curling as if they still remembered the weight. “Just yesterday you were playing princesses with your friends in the dirt. I blinked—and now look at you. All grown up, right in front of me.”

It warmed your chest—but it also cracked something inside you.

Nostalgia will kill you one day.

“How are they?” you asked quietly. “The kids”

She let out a small, wistful sigh. “Almost all of them left. Just like you.” Her thumb rubbed over the rim of her mug. “Only a few stayed behind. Brian. Tim…” she paused, her eyes flicking up to meet yours, “and Toby. Do you remember them?”

You blinked. Of course you remembered. How could you not?

Tim and Brian were like one body with two loud mouths—brothers from different mothers. Always together. Always up to something. Usually something stupid. You could still picture them snickering as Brian yanked on your pigtails or pinched your cheeks way too hard, then sprinting like hell from Mr. Harvey’s shop—because of course they’d been caught stealing cigarettes again. That poor man started closing the shop on Wednesdays just to avoid them.

And then there was Toby.

He wasn’t like them. Not at all. A little older than you, maybe a year or two, but always standing just outside the circle of kids, like he wasn’t sure how to step in. Always hovering awkwardly on the edge of things while the other kids played. You remembered your mom nudging you toward him constantly, whispering, “Be nice to him. He needs a friend.”

Toby had Tourettes. And a few other things too, though people rarely talked about them. Not kindly, anyway. other things people whispered about behind closed doors. The village kids didn’t understand him, and they didn’t try to. They just called him names—Ticci Toby—mocking his tics like they were something he chose.

But not you.

You were the one who defended him. Always.

You remembered the day you caught him crying behind the old shed, trying to hide his face as his body twitched against his will. You were so furious on his behalf, you grabbed the biggest rocks you could carry and hurled them at the windows of the kids who teased him. You broke five. Got grounded for two weeks. Worth it.

The next morning, a little handmade bracelet and a single peach rose were waiting on your doorstep.

You also remembered his sister—Lyra. Beautiful, kind, patient Lyra, who treated you like a second little sister. You’d idolized her, tried to mimic her voice, her laugh, the way she braided her hair. She was your soft, glowing image of womanhood before you even knew the word for it.

“They were the only ones that stayed,” Ms. Smith said, drawing you back to the present. Her tone was soft but firm, like she was trying to protect something in the truth. “Brian helped carry my groceries yesterday. Polite boy.”

“Uh huh,” you murmured as you sipped your coffee.

“Tim checks on me every few days. Always makes sure I’ve got what I need from the store.” She gave a small scoff, half fond, half exasperated. “And they smoke like chimneys.”

“You don’t like smokers, do you?” you teased, glancing up.

She narrowed her eyes over her cup. “No. And if I ever catch you smoking—”

“I won’t! Promise,” you said quickly, laughing.

“Good.” She settled down again, the corner of her mouth curling ever so slightly into a smirk.

There was a brief pause before her voice softened.

“Toby doesn’t come out much,” she said, eyes distant now. “Last time I saw him was… in the winter. It was snowing. I was headed into town, and he was walking along the path. Shivering, twitching. He looked like he was freezing. I was about to call out, but… he ran off before I could.”

You sipped your coffee slowly, the heat grounding you, though your gut twisted with a quiet curiosity.

“After what happened to his family…” she trailed off, sighing.

Your brow furrowed. “What happened?”

She looked up at you with a kind of worn sadness. “You don’t know?”

You shook your head.

“Well,” she began, lowering her cup to the saucer with a soft clink, “his mother and sister were in a car accident. A drunk driver hit them. They didn’t make it. His father survived the crash, but… a week later, their house burned down. Fire was so big it almost made it to the village... No one knows how it started. Toby was the only one who got out in time.”

Your hand flew to your mouth, your eyes wide. “Oh my god… That’s… that’s horrible…”

She only nodded, sipping her coffee with slow, heavy grace.

You didn’t say anything for a while. What could you say to that? But the ache in your chest lingered long after the cup was empty.

“I’m glad they’re looking out for you. Still, you should rest more, what if something happens and—” You say but she cuts you off with a chuckle.

“Oh, don’t worry about an old bag of bones like me.” Her hand gently pats your back. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“That sounds like a threat.”

“It is, dear.”

You both laugh, the tension fading. She switches topics, rambling about her plants, her garden, her newest battle with aphids. You listen, smiling softly, feeling—just for a moment—like you’ve gone back in time.

Eventually, she leaves, her slow steps fading into the evening.

You’re alone again. But that’s what you wanted… right?

Right?

You stare at the empty room. The clean walls. The quiet and wonder—for just a second—if this was a mistake.

You shake your head. No. You’re tired, that’s all. A nap wouldn’t hurt. You don’t even remember closing your eyes.

11pm

You wake up, looking around confused, rubbing your eyes trying to gain consciousness. Ears are ringing. Your head is banging as if trying to explode. Clutching your head as if you were trying to keep it together you sat up with a groan. Random migraines were nothing new for you. You don’t know why. You get up to get your meds that you kept in the kitchen drawer.

“Oh, no no no…I can swear I left them here.. no way they are all gone again..” you groan. The Headache is getting worse and worse. Where are your meds? They tend to disappear every now and then but you blamed it on your forgetfulness. Now you are sure that they disappear because of Someone or something.

You felt like your head was gonna explode.

“Fuck..” with a soft sigh you grab your jacket and put on your sneakers and close the door behind you.

You have to go get new meds.

It was around 11:43 p.m. when you got to the closest store. You pulled into the parking lot, got out, and headed for the store.

Not exactly a full drugstore—more like a confused little market with chips, soda, and a side of prescriptions.

You headed down the aisle, waiting for the cashier to get your meds. Guy, in his late 30s, wearing a white coat, sat on the other side of the counter, didn’t even bother looking up. He was chewing his gum way too fucking loud, making you clutch your jaw in annoyance.

His mustache was yellow, definitely a smoker.. and unhygienic.

He was typing something on his computer, slowly, like that snob from Zootopia. He glanced up at you once, then right back to the screen, like you don’t exist.

Cough cough

“One second, baby” he hummed, with a wink and a disgusting smirk, that made you want to puke.

Somehow, the air inside was colder than outside. You look around, wincing slightly. Every time you moved your head too fast, it felt like something was drilling into your brain from the inside.

Still, you looked around.

There was a masked guy. Fluffy brunette hair peeked out from under his black Nike cap. He wore a black backpack, a dark gray hoodie, and jeans that were too long for his legs—torn and dirty at the ends. Black Converse. You caught a glimpse of something handwritten on them, but couldn’t make it out clearly.

You caught him staring.

He immediately looked away, eyes locking on the first thing in front of him. He picked it up with a dead serious expression. Studying it. Like he was very interested in… singing toothbrushes…? At this point, you looked away. No judging.. maybe he has a kid or something—

♪ Let it gooo let it gooo—

Terrible audio quality. Song from Frozen. Playing on full blast.

You slowly turned back to see him frantically trying to shut it off. His fingers mashed the buttons, only making it repeat.

“Sh-shit, shit, shit—shut the fuck up,” he whispered, panicked, then chucked it into the nearest box. It kept playing.

He stood there trying to act casual, rubbing the back of his neck like he didn’t just start a Disney concert in aisle three. You snorted and turned back to the counter. The guy finally decided to acknowledge your existence. You asked for your pills, a bottle of water, and for bag of chips. For pills, you showed him the receipt from your doctor and he handed them over in the bag. He reached across the counter to give them to you directly and you reached out to take them—but his fingers lingered longer than necessary. His fat, sweaty fingers wrapped around yours.

You looked up at him and tried to pull away. He didn’t let go.

“Um..? Sir?” you asked nervously.

And he smiled. Disgustingly.

“Are you new here, honey? Haven’t seen you around.” He murmured, finely letting go.

You have a nauseous feeling that crept up in your gut.

“Yeah,” you hum, not meeting his eyes as you place the cash on the counter.

“You know… a gorgeous girl like you shouldn’t be out here alone. Places like this can be dangerous,” he smiled, taking the money.

You gave him a fake smile out of politeness and turned to leave.

“Not very talkative are you? It’s all right, I like women who use their mouth for other stuff” you heard him snort.

You froze and looked back. His eyes were crawling over your body like roaches. You clenched your jaw, rage bubbling up. You opened your mouth to say something—

BANG

Both of you whipped around toward the noise.

A slushy machine had exploded. Blue and red liquid shot, mixing into a bright purple mess that splashed across the floor.

“FUCK! NO! NO—FUCK, FUCK, I’M FUCKING FIRED—SHIT!” the man screamed and bolted into the staff room to grab a mop or something.

You stood there, confused as hell.

Then you caught a pair of brown eyes looking at you.

You realized.

Cap guy. He did that.

You couldn’t see his mouth behind the mask, but you saw it in his eyes. He was smiling. He shifted, casually reached toward the candy aisle, grabbed a bag of sour jellies, and shoved it into his pocket, Then he strolled toward the exit, hopping over the growing purple pool.

Winked at you and walked out.

You heard angry muttering and clattering from the staff room. You needed to get out before that pig came back. You grabbed the bag and slipped out the front door.

Cap guy was nowhere to be seen.

You let out a small sigh.

Still, you glanced around the parking lot, just in case. Scanning the shadows. Nothing. He was gone. Whatever. Your head was splitting in half and you were too tired to chase ghosts. You stepped out of the lot, rubbing your temple. It felt like your skull was pulsing—like something was crawling behind your eyes.

The street ahead looked… familiar. You didn’t know why at first. But then it hit you. You were here before. When you were younger you used to hang out in the park nearby with friends. You remembered it in pieces. Foggy snapshots. A swing, slide, and benches— one of them was always broken.

You crossed the road slowly, not thinking. Just letting your feet carry you.

The park wasn’t exactly how you remembered it. It was more colorless, with scribbly ugly graffiti everywhere.

You walked past the rusted jungle gym and the cracked seesaw. Everything here felt like it was holding its breath.. and dying because of it.

You sat down on one of the swings. The chain creaked softly under your weight. You didn’t move. Just let your legs dangle, your heels dragging over the dirt.

The night air was sharp. Cold in your lungs. But it helped, a little. You closed your eyes. Breathed in. Out. In again. Your pulse still throbbed behind your eyes.

After a moment, you dug into your jacket, pulling out the bottle of water and your pills. Hands shaking slightly. You can’t have it on an empty stomach. The doctor said so.

So you pulled out the chips. Opened the bag with that plastic crinkle that sounded way too loud in the silence. you took a bite.

It was peaceful. You look down on your phone.

12:23

You leaned back on the swing, eyes tracing the stars above. They used to mean something. Wishes, hope, or whatever you needed back then. You used to beg them to make things better. They never did.

But still… you looked up. Like maybe tonight would be different. You see a falling star.

It’s so stupid.. but you still found yourself closing your eyes and wishing.. Wishing for—

Footsteps

Your shot open your eyes as your body stiffened.

They were not loud, but loud enough to make you feel them.. they were slowly getting closer and closer. Crunching gravel.

You slowly look back and—

Him.

“Hi”

————————————————————————

END NOTES

PHEEEEWW SORRY TOBY DIDN’T SHOW UP IN THIS CHAPTER PROPERLY I PROMISE IN NEXT CHAP HE WILL!!!

Hope yall liked it!!!

SEE YAAAA BYEEE

[feeling-pushy]

So I've been dealing with a lot of stuff, personal family stuff, and then my actual computer fucking breaking on me. So it's been a struggle and a half to get creative, but this next part in my story has been calling to me. So I litterally wrote everything down in a note book and then painstakingly retyped it up in a word app on my phone. Anyways I hope yall like this first chapter, and please support my Ao3

From the Ashes

Chaper 1: The City

“And you're sure this is what you want to do for your birthday?” Looking down at his daughter, Montanha watched as she adjusted the straps on her backpack. Her dark brown hair was done up in a tight braid and when she looked up at him with those dark brown eyes, he couldn’t help but think back to that day fourteen years ago, when he first gazed into those eyes and fell in love.

“Yes! You promised I could do whatever I wanted for my birthday.” She said, looking up at him. Montanha now regretted that promise he made, as he felt his anxiety spike a little, “I know, but if you’re feeling unsure at all, we can always stay here-”

“Dad. It’ll be fine. It’s not like it’s my first time in the city!”

“Yes, but it’s your first time scavenging. So let’s go over the rules one more time.”

“Don’t talk to strangers. Always be by your side. And if I ever lose you, run for the hills.” She recited with a practiced ease and an impatient sigh. “Good.’ he then crouched down to her level, ‘Don’t forget those rules, ok? It’s important. Never leave my side unless I’m telling you to hide, and if that does happen. Don’t wait for me. Just go back to the cabin when the coast is clear, alright?”

Rosie nodded, and Montanha smiled warmly as he put a hand on her cheek, “That’s my girl.” He then stood, slinging his pack over his shoulders and looking at her with a smile, “Let’s go, Sprout.”

It was late afternoon when the two of them made it down the mountain and reached their first checkpoint. A large store with building and gardening supplies. It was a grand building, a monolith, so wide open that Rosie could see clear from one side to the other. It filled her with an odd sense of foreboding, feeling exposed in this place. “It’s really big in here. People used to shop here?”

“Yep.” Montanha said simply as he grabbed some nearby seeds, putting them into the pockets of his pack. Rosie hummed, still unconvinced but made no arguments as they continued to collect seeds, rope, and lumber. Putting the lumber aside in a backroom to grab on the return trip.

Once the lumber was tucked away safely, Montanha turned to Rosie with a big grin as he led her down another aisle, “Do you wanna pick out a tent? We can do a little campin’ tonight!” Rosie grinned, the freckles on her cheeks popping as she excitedly cheered, “Yeah!”

“Great, let’s go pick out somethin’, birthday girl.” He declared brightly as he led her down the massive aisles.

Sure enough, there was an aisle that was dedicated to camping. There were chairs, small grills, rope, and other such odd assortments. Some items were even out on display, though they had long succumbed to the dust and neglect of time. The two of them spent some time looking at the many assortments of tents, looking at fading pictures on the dusty boxes. Until Rosie finally picked out a nice, sizeable tent that was meant for four to five people.

“That’s a good choice, your old man is gonna need the room, I’m big enough for two people on my own!” he joked with a hearty laugh, taking the box down from the tall shelf.

Rosie giggled, “You think I’ll be as tall as you, dad?” Montanha had always towered over her, his presence akin to that of an oak tree in her mind. At that question, Montanha gave her a wink, “Oh, no doubt. You’re already pretty tall for your age.”

“Am I?” She hardly even came to his shoulders. “Haha, yeah, Sprout, I’d say you're almost as tall as most grown men at this point, honey.”

She scrunched her nose at that. She certainly didn’t feel that tall. Still, she couldn’t argue with his point as she hadn’t personally met another human being outside her own father.

“You’d be surprised at how short people normally are. Some don’t even get taller than five-two. Fortunately, you’ve inherited my genes, it seems!” Again Montanha laughed at his own joke as he opened the box. Inside were some tarp as well as some folded metal polls that Montanha started to stuff into the accompanying duffle bag before slinging that over his shoulder with the rest of his supplies.

Once they finished their business here, it was time to move on to the rest of their trip and go into the big city. Rosie’s excitement was evident as she practically bounded forward, telling her dad to hurry as they approached the towering buildings.

He tried to share in her excitement, but his whole body felt tense as he kept his eyes on the swivel. “D-Don’t go too far, Rosie…” he said, voice trembling a bit. Rosie, hearing this, stopped to look back at him. Seeing his tension, she, without a word, came back to him and rejoined him at his side. She then took his hand in hers and held it. Montanha’s hand tightened automatically in response, but he seemed to relax a bit as he gave his daughter an appreciative smile. Rosie leaned against his arm in turn and gave him a small smile.

Scavenging in the city was different than when they were looting the hardware store. Less looking for specific items and gathering anything and everything that could be useful or edible. The latter being especially hard to come by more than most.

Still, they managed to find a few edible items, like flour, as well as more ammo for Montanha’s weapons. However, Montanha wanted to make a few things a priority during this trip, such as finding new clothes for Rosie. She’d been growing like a weed and was often in need of new things to wear. And while Montanha was usually the one who was in charge of replacing those items and he did his best to find nice things, he knew she would enjoy being able to pick her own clothes for once.

Grabbing clothes off the racks of the abandoned clothing store, Rosie reveled in this small taste of freedom. Going to a stack of folded t-shirts, she picked up a shirt with a circular emblem. Centered within the circle were the words ‘NASA’ in bold white letters. She admired the design with its white little stars and red curving lines before showing it to her dad, “Dad, look!”

Looking over at her, Montanha read the shirt and soon was chuckling, “Very nice honey. It’s very fitting for you, I think.” He mused, earning him a furrowed brow of confusion from his daughter. Seeing her expression, he chuckled again, “I’ll explain later.”

Rosie seemed to accept that answer for now as she went back to browsing. Packing away the NASA shirt alongside a few other clothes she liked.

Once they finished, Montanha had one more special spot for them to go. He took her to a modern, glass fronted building. With a flat, low-sloping roof and a dark metal siding. In front, there were a few large, eroded letters, most being so weather-beaten that they crumbled away and were unreadable. All that was left was the words ‘M Library.’

As the two stepped inside, Rosie’s eyes went wide. Shelves upon shelves of books lined the walls, the smell of old paper hanging heavy in the air. Alongside the dust that could be seen gently floating through the sunlight that filtered in from the vast walls of glass that made up the front. “That’s a lot of books…” she muttered in awe as she took in the space.

“Do you like it, Sprout?” Montanha asked, watching her take it all in with stars in her eyes. “It’s amazing!” she breathed, Montanha let out a soft laugh, “You know, back in the day, you could actually come here and take all these books home. At least, for a little while, you could.”

“That’s awesome.”

Seeing her excitement, he got an idea, “Why don’t you go grab a couple of books, and then meet me back at the front counter.”

Rosie didn’t need to be told twice as she disappeared between the shelves. Montanha’s smile was a bit strained as soon as she left his field of vision, but he reassured himself she would be fine, as he got to work on setting up his little surprise for her.

Quickly getting lost between the shelves, Rosie marveled at the seemingly endless miles of well-organized books. Paperbacks, hard covers, and magazines all lined the shelves. After some investigation, she quickly figured out that they were all arranged by the subject and author.

Navigating the subjects, Rosie was able to find the young adult section of books, which, being fourteen now, felt fitting for her. She was practically a full-fledged adult at this point. Browsing the books, however, revealed it to be mostly fiction, much to her disappointment, as she felt she was too grown up to be investing in fairytales.

Still, one book did catch her eye. It sat on a dusty shelf that advertised, ‘New YA Novels to Try!’ and featured a cover with a very pretty woman on it. She had black braided hair, pale as snow skin, and a dress of pink and blue that she didn’t recognize the style of. The background seemed to also have ocean-like theming and seemed to promise some sort of adventure for the woman. Wordlessly, she tucked the book away in her backpack, as if to hide her interest, before moving on.

Finding the science section next, she browsed the various subjects, finding this to be much more her speed as a self-proclaimed woman of science. There, she picked out various books on human anatomy, animal anatomy, cell science, and the science of experimentation. Clutching the heavy tombs in her arms, she decided to make her way back to the front counter.

Bringing back her books, she returned to the front, only to find Montanha standing behind it, “Dad? What are you doing?”

“Dad? Who is this ‘Dad’ you speak of? I am but a humble librarian. Are you here to check out, young lady?” he asked, putting on some sort of fancy sounding accent, which made Rosie giggle. Playing along with his antics, she placed her books on the counter, “I want these books please!”

“Excellent! Do you have a library card?” he asked, making her blink in confusion, “Um, no?”

“Well, would you like to apply for a card today, ma’am?”

“Sure.”

“Ok.’ He said, pulling out a sheet of paper, ‘just fill out this form here.” Rosie giggled again as she took the form and started to fill it out. For her address, she just wrote ‘The Mountains.’ She then filled out the name portion, only to pause when she saw there was a last name section on the form.

“Hey, dad? Do we have a last name?”

“Just skip that part, dear.” Montanha said, voice flat and full of an odd venom that made her feel uneasy. This was not a side to her father she’d ever seen, and it felt uncomfortable to her. Montanha, seeing her unease, softened as a look of guilt crossed his features, “… You can put in ‘Diaz’ as the last name, sweetheart.” He said after a moment.

“Ok…” she said, still a bit uncomfortable, unwilling to ask further as she worked to complete the rest of her form. By the time she finished, Montanha smiled as he attempted to lighten the mood again.

“Great! Everything looks to be in order. Let me file this away and get you your card.”

He then ducked behind the counter, and Rosie could hear him make various beeps and boops as he pretended to be on the computer. This helped to dispel her remaining unease, as she listened to her dad be a goof, making her smile.

He then popped back up, card in hand as he grinned wide at her. It was small and rectangular, with a semi-glossy finish. And when he turned it towards her, she could see it had her name on it. Scrawled on the dotted line in his best handwriting.

“Your library card, ma’am.” He said as he handed it over to her. Holding it in her hands, she felt a strange swell of pride. It was so shiny and new, and it was all hers. She held it carefully to her chest as she beamed up at her father, “Thanks, dad.”

“Of course, baby. Happy birthday.” He said tenderly, leaning forward to give her a kiss on the top of her head. He stayed like that for a long moment, holding her close, afraid to let go.

But eventually he did, looking down at her with a goofy smile, “now remember to bring those books and your card back next time you come to the library, alright?” Rosie laughed, “Ok, dad!”

“Attagirl.’ He said, tussling her hair, ‘Now, I got one more surprise for you, hon. Follow me.”

Montanha led her towards the back of the library, somewhere deep and away from all the windows. A more cozy and safe location. Once they reached the spot he was looking for, he shrugged off the duffle bag and started taking out the tent. “Surprise! We’re camping out in the library!”

“Whoa! Really??”

“Yeah, Sprout. Do you like it?”

“I do!” she cheered as she hugged him, Montanha smiled as he hugged her back, “I’m glad, hon. Now let me show you how to set up a tent.”

He then got to work setting things up while Rosie watched intently, “Ok, first things first, we wanna lay out this ground cloth. Then you’ll wanna unfold these tent poles like so.” He then unfolds the poles by snapping his wrists and flourishing them out in a show-offy fashion that made Rosie gasp with awe. Montanha winked with a grin, “And then we insert the tent poles through the holes to build the frame.”

He continued to show Rosie the steps as he lifted up the tent and inserted the poles. Once the frame was put together, Montanha used a few books to hold it down, making a joke about not wanting the wind to blow it away, making Rosie laugh.

“Who taught you how to put a tent together, dad?” Rosie asked as she watched him finish up the tent. The question made Montanha pause as his brow furrowed a little, “You know. I think it was my old friend Asher who showed me.” He said after some thought.

She was surprised by this. Her father rarely talked about his past. The subject of her godmother was already something she struggled to get out of him at the best of times. So the fact there was a whole other person was news to her, “Asher?”

“Right, I don’t think I’ve mentioned him to you… He used to travel with me and your godmother, back in the day.”

“What was he like? Did he..?”

“No. At least, I hope not. No, he just left one day in search of his father, who managed to contact him. Asher was a good man. Smart, resourceful, and downright funny. He had a real good heart, and he was a good friend to me… I don’t know what happened after he left, but I like to think that he’s out there with his father… Happy.” A small smile was on his lips as he spoke. But there was a pain and longing in his eyes that Rosie could clearly see.

It pained her whenever she saw him get like this. His eyes far away as he seemed to go somewhere else. But she dare not speak or point it out. Lest he hid this from her, too.

A moment later, he seemed to snap out of his stupor and offered her a smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “How about we get some grub goin’, hm?”

Digging through his pack, he pulled out a small pan, as well as a can that he pealed the top of, before lighting it and producing a small flame that he placed under the pan. Heating up the veggies and meat that he had brought for them to eat. “Marshmallows would go great with these right now…” Montanha sighed as he stirred the food, as it slowly heated up.

“Are marshmallows those tubes of meat you told me about?”

“No love, that’s hotdogs. Marshmallows are the white pillowy things made of sugar.”

“Ohhh, those ones!”

“Yeah, sadly, those things are probably long gone by now. Last time I tried to snag a bag of those things, they were hard as rocks.’ Montanha then put an arm around Rosie, ‘Oh well. I don’t need any of that stuff. Not when I got a sweet girl like you, kiddo.” Rosie leaned her head against his shoulder as she smiled and closed her eyes.

“… Theirs one last thing I want to give you.” He said after a moment. He pulled away as he dug into the pockets of his deer hide jacket. Pulling something out and holding it in his fists, he looked at her, “Hold out your hands.”

Rosie held them out as he gently placed the item into her palms. When he removed his hand, she found a small neckless resting there. It had a yellow, fake gold chain, but a silver clip, and in the center sat a tiny rose that was blush pink, with two delicate pastel green leaves to accompany it.

“This was your godmother’s neckless.’ He explained, voice soft, ‘I’ve had this for a long time. Holding onto it until you were old enough. But now, I think you’re ready to have it.” Rosie looked up at him, and she could see tears in Montanha’s eyes, “Please, take good care of it for me.”

She gazed up at him for a long moment before bringing the necklace to her neck, clipping it on. The rose now sat on her collar bone, the blush pink complimenting her warm brown skin in a way that felt like it belonged there. Once she finished putting it on, she leaned forward and hugged her dad tightly, “I’ll take good care of it, I promise.” She murmured.

Montanha wrapped his arms around her in turn and squeezed her gently as he fought the urge to sob outright. Still, he couldn’t stop the tears fully as they slid quietly down his cheeks, “I love you, Rosie.”

The rest of the evening went by fast as they ate their meal. Montanha taking the opportunity to tell her his favorite scary stories. Some were the usual ghostly fanfare, but he also told his fair share of zombie stories. He always loved to tell her those in particular, which Rosie didn’t mind as she thought the idea of the dead coming back to life to be a bit silly.

After they finished their meal, Montanha snuffed out the small flame, packing everything back up before the two of them crawled into the tent to sleep. Rosie snuggled up close to her dad as he wrapped her up in his arms. His large frame always made her feel safe as he engulfed her. “Goodnight, Rosie. We leave for home first thing in the morning, ok?”

“OK. Night, dad.” Rosie said softly. Montanha hummed as he planted a kiss on her forehead, tucking his chin on the top of her head. As they laid there, Rosie noticed that he held her tighter than usual. Her eyes grew sad as he did so, frowning a little as she buried her face deeper into his chest and closed her eyes. She soon drifted off into a fitful slumber.