#Which is something I hardly ever have for traditions

[a-killer-obsession]

The Bet [Kid Pirates x Reader]

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

It all started in the most unexpected manner. Kid had never even considered having children, but after it happened he'd found himself thinking more and more about it.

CW:  established relationship, fivesome F/M/M/M/M, breeding, breeding kink, pregnancy, polyamorous relationship, everyone is bi/pan and together, smut, oral, double penetration, blow jobs, deep throating, anal fingering, afab reader

Self indulgent one shot for my birthday

WC: ~3.5k

Masterlist || AO3

It all started in the most unexpected manner. Kid had never even considered having children, but after it happened he'd found himself thinking more and more about it. He couldn't deny that the thought of you swollen with his babe inside you was alluring, it awakened a kink he didn't even realise he had. But it went further than that, he realised, when a small child had run to you and clung to your leg crying, while the crew was docked on some tourist trap island waiting for the log pose to reset. The ease in which you picked up the child and comforted them, before helping them find their mother, awakened something in him. He started dreaming about it, a little redheaded child with all his fire and all your charisma, running around the deck teasing the crew. Making them small toys with his abilities and seeing their eyes light up. Teaching them to shoot a gun, being scolded by you for doing so. He often found himself thinking about it, more than he would like, or ever admit to.

Until it had happened though, he'd had no interest, and did not think you did either. After all, were children not something people in more… traditional relationships wanted? The polyamorous relationship you had with the Kid Pirate commanders was hardly traditional. Not to mention the logistics of having a child on a ship. Was it only him you'd asked for this with, or did you not care who it happened with? Did you even mean it like that, or was it just a lust-fueled passing thought, caught up in the heat of the moment?

He'd already been fucking you ruthlessly for hours when it happened, the two of you coated in sweat and other bodily fluids, your hands threaded in his hair as he slammed you in to the mattress of his giant bed with every deep thrust, your moans bridging on screams. He'd leaned back to admire his work, your pussy already puffy and pink from multiple rounds as he watched his cock bury and unbury itself inside you. With an annoyed groan he began to pull away, but you held him tight with your legs around his waist.

“Babe, the condom broke,” he complained, “let me go, I'll be quick”

“Nooo,” you moaned, rocking your hips towards him as he tried to pull away, “don't go, cum inside me, please”

Kid couldn't believe what he was hearing, almost cumming right there and then. “I'm- babe are you sure?”

“Put your baby in me,” you moaned as you rolled your hips against him, fucking yourself on him while he hesitated, “breed me, please”

His hesitation was immediately lost to his stupid caveman brain and he slammed back into you at a new, desperate pace, eager to fill you with his load. “Yes! Yes!” You cried out between moans, “fill me up, breed me- oh fuck I'm cumming~”

You clamped tight around him and he hit his own peak, your pulsing hole milking him for everything he was worth as he emptied inside you. “Fuck,” he groaned as he came to a rest, his thick cock still sheathed deep inside you.

“Mmm, don't pull out yet,” you mewled, still holding him tight against you, “I don't want any of your cum dripping out of me, don’t wanna waste it”

“Fuck, [y/n],” Kid groaned, planting his head against your shoulder and letting out an almost growl.

“And you didn't think to ask her about it afterwards?” Killer raised an eyebrow at Kid. The four commanders, your lovers, were sitting around the table that sat in the middle of the navigation room. Kid had just finished telling the others about the condom incident, hoping to get their insights on it or see if you'd done the same to them.

“She was so tired, so we just cleaned up and fell asleep,” Kid shrugged.

“Maybe she's on some other birth control?” Wire suggested.

“Nah, she doesn't like the way they make her feel,” Heat explained, “that's why she's always insisted on the rubbers”

“Well, how do you feel about it?” Killer asked, “do you want a kid?”

“I mean, I didn't think I did,” Kid mumbled, scratching the back of his neck, “but… I can't stop thinking about it”

“I mean, y'all know me,” Heat laughed, “I've been waiting to breed her. She'd look so fucking good all swollen with my baby”

“Yeah, we know,” Wire groaned, “you never shut up about it. I can't say I haven't thought about it too though. I mean, she's been with us for years, it was bound to cross our minds at some point. What about you, Kil?”

“I've known for a while I want to be a dad,” he shrugged, “raising Kid was shit, but rewarding as hell. I'd be more prepared this time”

“What are we saying then? That we want to knock her up?” Kid questioned.

“If that's what she wants,” Wire replied.

“Maybe we should ask her,” Heat suggested.

“Okay but what if she agrees? Then what?” Kid asked, “what if she only wants one of our kids? What if the kid is born and has long ass blonde hair, are we still gonna all act like we’re all the dad?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Wire hummed, “I mean, we all love her equally, right? And if we're all putting in the effort to make it, I think its fair we all take equal charge, even if it comes out with flaming red hair”

“Okay, so we're all in agreement then?” Killer asked the group, to which they all nodded and mumbled their agreements.

“There you all are!” You shouted enthusiastically as you skipped into the room, “I thought you guys were having a orgy without me” you pouted.

“Never without you sweetheart,” Wire booped your nose as you slid into his lap.

“What's going on then? You guys talkin’ bout me?” You teased, “only sexy things I hope”

“Actually,” Killer cleared his throat, “we were talking about you”

“Oh?” You tensed a little, stressed that you’d done something wrong.

“Nothing bad, sweetness,” Wire rubbed your leg reassuringly, “we were just discussing something Kid said you mentioned”

“Oh? What did I say?” You looked at Kid with a puzzled expression.

“Well I- we were just wondering whether you uh,” he scratched the back of his neck, “whether you wanted a baby”

“Ooooooh,” you smiled, tapping your lips with your index finger, “I did tell you to breed me, didn't I? I had planned on bringing it up but the condom beat me to the game”

“So you do want a baby?” Killer asked.

“Yeah, I do,” you replied anxiously, “is that… okay? I know it's a complicated situation, with the five of us and being on a ship and all. But every time I see a kid on some island I get this wave of longing, I really think I want one”

“We talked about it and we all agreed that we're okay with that,” Heat replied. You shimmied excitedly on Wire's lap, making him let out a little grunt.

“And you're… all… okay with it?” You asked, scanning the others with your eyes anxiously, “I mean… I'm not asking you all to be a dad if you don't want to, and I can only carry one guy's baby at a time”

“Do you want it to be specifically one person's?” Kid questioned.

“No, I mean, how am I supposed to choose?” you pouted, “I love all of you, I want everyone's baby. I don't think I want four kids though”

“It's okay peanut,” Heat reassured you, “we talked about it and we're all happy to claim the baby even if it's clearly not ours biologically. As long as they're loved, that's all that matters”

“None of us even had one parent around, to have five would be a blessing,” Wire hummed.

“I bet it'll be mine though,” Kid smirked, “none of you have anything on the size of these big breeding balls, these things were made for baby making”

“Kid, that's what all balls are made for, on literally every mammal,” Killer sighed.

“Alright, I'll make you a deal then,” you smiled mischievously, “if the baby comes out with flaming red hair, you can name them. Same goes for any of you. But that's the only special privilege you get”

The men looked between each other, playful grins forming on their faces. They could never turn down a bit of competition.

“Deal,” they all agreed. Wire immediately grabbed you by your hips and bent you over the edge of the table, making you squeak. He wasted no time tearing down your panties and running a long finger through your slit.

“Hey! No fair!” Kid pouted.

“Says who?” Wire tutted. You moaned as he slipped a finger inside you, followed quickly by a second when he discovered how wet you already were, “you already got to breed her once, the rest of us have to get started. God shes fucking soaked from just talking about it, you want it bad huh baby?”

“Yes! Hnnn-” Wire slipped a third finger inside you and pumped you hard while his other hand came underneath you to rub your clit, “I want to be bred so bad~”

“Fuck she clenched when she said that, she wants our cum so bad,” Wire laughed, pulling his fingers out of you unceremoniously, making you whine. Heat was quick to take his hand and lick your slick off his fingers, a hand already down his own pants.

“Let me get a taste of her before we fuck her up,” Heat purred, pushing Wire out of the way unceremoniously as you rolled on to your back and he knelt between your legs, your knees slung over his shoulders. You adored when Heat ate you out, his greedy mouth was always so hot against your needy pussy and he always did it with such fervour. One of your hands found his hair, the other sliding under your shirt to play with your nipples.

“Let me help you with that,” Killer whispered close to your ear, his mask discarded. He pulled your shirt over your head before removing your bra, and dipped his head to suck on one breast, his hands giving attention to the other. Your newly freed hand threaded through his hair as he ran his wet muscle over the pert bud, flicking it with the tip of his tongue and sucking it into his mouth. You turned your head to the side to see Kid and Wire keeping each other entertained, exchanging wet, messy, open mouth kisses while their hands made deft work of each other's pants. You loved watching your boys play with each other, and it made the coil in your stomach wind tight as you watched them. Wire getting on his knees, combined with a particularly deep thrust of Heat's tongue inside you, was enough to put you over the edge. Killer swallowed your moans with a hot kiss as you came on Heat's face, Heat hungrily moaning and lapping up your ambrosia as you shook and tugged on his hair.

Your eyes were shut in bliss as you laid against the table and panted, barely registering the fat tip of Heat's cock as it slid inside you with ease. “Fucccck, I can't wait to fill you up [y/n],” he grunted as he bottomed out, “I've been thinking about breeding you for so fucking long”

Your legs were still over Heat's shoulders, so much higher now that he was standing, his head tilted forward as he watched the spot where his cock disappeared inside your hungry pussy. “Good girl [y/n],” Killer purred beside you, “let Heat breed you like a good little broodmare”

“Oi, you fucking thief,” Wire growled as he realised Heat had stolen his spot to fuck you first. Heat gave him a smug grin, thrusting into you harder to purposely rip moans from you.

“Yeah? She seems to like it just fine,” Heat teased.

“I'll teach you to steal,” Wire warned, sliding up behind Heat and spitting on his hand before slipping a finger in Heat's asshole. His other hand reached around to play with Heat's pierced nipples, the man was always more sensitive because of them and Wire knew it well. You openly laughed between moans at Heat's pained face as he realised he wasn't going to last long with Wire touching him and pumping his asshole with two fingers now. As predicted in only a few more pumps he shuddered and let out a guttural groan, stilling inside you as he filled you with his seed.

“Fuck… you… Wire,” Heat panted.

“Aw Heat baby, you can try again later,” you gave his face a gentle pat, “but Wire, that was rude, you gotta wait now”

“Oh come on!” Wire groaned.

“You heard the lady,” Killer shoved Heat and Wire out of the way as he pulled his thick erection out of his pants. You smiled sweetly at him and spread your legs wide on the table invitingly. He gave an appreciative hum before lining himself up and pushing in with a grunt.

“Can't wait to see our little blonde baby,” he purred in your ear as he started a slow, deep rhythm.

“You gotta knock me up me first,” you cooed back at him, leaning back on your elbows so you had an anchor to roll your hips, forcing him in deeper. He let out a almost whimper at the sudden unexpected force, which spurred him on to fuck you harder, his hands gripping your hips hard. “There you go, hnng, just like that Kil~”

Wet sounds to your right caught your attention, Wire dishing out more revenge on Heat as he face fucked him hard. You could see the bulge Wire's cock was making in Heat's throat. “Hnng, you better not waste that cum Wire,” you tutted.

“Of course not baby,” he gave you a coy smirk, “that's all for you darlin”

Kid crowded over you on the other side of the table, pumping his cock in his hand as it hovered over your face. You eagerly leaned back and opened your mouth for him, and he sprouted his praises as you took him down your throat in a well practised manner.

“Good girl [y/n],” Killer praised, “you always take our cocks so well, made for us, just like you were made to carry our baby”

Your moaning around Kid's cock made him groan, his hands groping your exposed breasts as they bounced with every thrust from Killer, a contrast of temperature between his warm flesh hand and his cool metal one adding to your pleasure. You tapped his thigh twice to indicate you wanted him to pull out as a new lustful thought consumed your needs.

“What's up baby?” He palmed himself as he waited for you to speak.

“Want- both of you-” you moaned, “you and Killer~”

“Hear that Kil? Little mouse thinks she can take us both,” Kid laughed.

“Well who are we to deny her,” Killer smirked as he pulled out. He climbed on the table and laid on his back, and you eagerly rolled on top to straddle him, reaching down between your bodies to position him and sink back down on his cock. Kid came around the table to where Killer had previously stood, climbing on top of the table which creaked under the collective weight of the three of you. You would have worried about it breaking, if this hadn't been the first time this had happened.

You buried your face in Killer's neck as Kid sunk inside you, stretching your pussy to its limit while all three of you groaned in unison. He stayed put for a moment, letting you adjust to the new level of fullness before slowly starting to move. You loved it when the boys took you like this, because as they fucked you they also slid against whoever else was inside you, fucking you both at the same time - it turned you on immensely to think about their cocks rubbing together inside of you. Killer's eyes were glazed over with bliss as Kid set a harsh rhythm, as he always did, and you took the opportunity to nip and suck at Killer's neck, making him whine. The room was filled with lewd squelching sounds and moans as the five of you were consumed by your collective pleasure.

The men inside you felt your pussy squeeze around them as you got dangerously close, your moans turning to pathetic sounding whimpers as you felt the coil tighten. Killer pulled you down to suck on your neck, and the coil snapped. Your pussy clenched hard around the men, your hole already tight to begin with, and they both hit their limit at the added pressure. Killer made a quiet grunt as he came, he was never very audible, while Kid roared like a caged tiger as he unloaded inside you.

“Fuck, fuck,” Wire growled, pulling Heat's mouth off him and rushing to your side. Kid pulled out, Killer's dick coming with it, and they were quickly replaced by Wire. He barely made it two pumps before spilling inside you, your face buried in the crook of Killer's neck as you panted.

Wire stayed inside you for a moment before slowly pulling out. The collective cum of your four lovers started to spill out, and Kid scooped it with his fingers and pushed it back inside you. “Don't waste it,” he tutted.

“You need anything from us?” Killer stroked your hair soothingly as you continued to rest against him.

“I think she's supposed to lay on her back with her ass raised for a bit,” Heat said, wiping the spit from the messy blow job he'd been giving Wire from his face.

“Of course you'd know,” Wire tsked, “you and your fucking breeding kink”

“Let's get you to bed then,” Kid said, scooping you off Killer and carrying you bridal style. Wire had the good sense to throw his cloak over you before Kid could expose you to the whole crew.

The boys were as excited as ever several months later the first time you puked after looking at what was by all accounts a totally normal meal, cheering like idiots while you ran for the ship railing to barf. Of course they’d all been working hard to make sure you were full of cum at all times, all of them doing whatever they could to be the one who sired the baby so they could win the bet. They spent the rest of the pregnancy working diligently to build a nursery aboard the Victoria Punk, reading every baby book they could find at every island they landed at and fighting over baby names, still sparring over the bet. It made you laugh, they were all so enthusiastic. You’d been so worried about even broaching the subject of a baby, but it warmed your heart to see how excited they all were about being dads. Towards the end of your pregnancy you spent a lot of time sitting with Heat, his body temperature was always so high and felt so soothing for your sore back. The others of course all spent time soothing you in their own ways: Killer would cook whatever you were craving (even if it was weird as shit and made the others gag), Kid would carry you everywhere without complaint if your ankles were swollen and help you bathe if you were feeling too tired, Wire would give you long, full body massages and make sure you were taking your supplements and resting.

For all their planning though, when your waters broke on the deck in the middle of the day they all turned into headless chickens, you had to rely on the girls on the ship to care for you till they got their shit together. Heat sat behind you on the infirmary bed to soothe your backaches, Killer and Wire sat either side of you, risking a broken hand every time you had a contraction. Kid insisted he was fine but would nearly faint every time Emma gave an update about how dilated you were, so he spent most of the labour being forced to lie down.

After 20 gruelling hours of active labour, the baby finally came. A healthy baby girl, and the others eagerly crowded around as Emma placed her in your arms, their eyes sparkling, a few watery with tears. There was a silence as they all tried to figure out who's superior sperm had won the race, and you couldn't help but laugh. The baby was a tiny copy of you - your eyes, your skin tone, a small puff of hair that matches your own. Even her other features like her nose and face shape looked like you.

“Well shit,” you laughed, “I never bothered to think of names cos I thought it'd be obvious”

There was a short silence as the men all looked between each other, it felt like an old western stare down. All at once, all keen on swaying you to their chosen name, they yelled:

“VICTORIA!”

You laughed harder as the men stared at each other in disbelief. All these months of squabbling and they all wanted the same name anyway, typical.

“Victoria it is then,” you giggled, looking down at your baby, “and how lucky you are little Victoria, with four daddies who all love you very much”

[winter-tospring]

"gays don't even think about wedding cakes, they just think about surviving" being here able to do this is special enough, but extras bring even more warmth and heart to the day. I didn't know what to want to celebrate. but we got a surprise wedding cake that apparently took hours to make, with ingredients previously unknown. and it was such a unique cake experience to eat it. we cut it together, hand in hand on knife, like we were told to do, and a tiny triangle was dislodged from the whole - mostly icing, which prompted a "your life will be sweet" interpretative comment.

the woman who read us our lines to repeat said she was excited to be here, and she wore black, like us. I cried right when it started like I knew I would, because holding hands and looking into your favorite person's eyes as they affirm their love and commitment to you in front of someone else just was bound to do that. It's the words you hear in movies all your life and then you're given them and you're giving them back, and it's surreal and yet I was so firmly planted in the moment, that's when it hit, so real, after all those steps and those years. the lady said you can kiss now and we hugged, and that's the kind of thing that makes us perfect.

we wore masks, so we chuckled, and she makes decisions faster than me in public, she's so easy going even though she says it's a shield to make strangers like her and treat her well, which I don't know how to do until I trip and have to catch myself with a smile and a joke and then anxiety dissipates because they've seen me now, I'm just a little clumsy human like them. I don't remember what she said exactly, but we smiled behind the masks, I could see it in her eyes and hear it, and we hugged tight under the white flowers arch. my love. it's always perfect when it's her. and it's gonna be her forever.

I could feel it when we got back, the gates of a new life opening. it feels like anything is possible. the home we want to build, just for us, lush and safe and exactly how we decide it. we danced without having it planned, which is how all best things happen. wedding songs playlists have a lot of sad songs, how is that? do people just listen to the melody and not the words? I had sweet home Alabama stuck in my head all day, and Lover was played, and random songs, and then backstreet boys for 10 minutes.

she said we walked hand in hand into HomeGoods. I didn't even notice. I find her so naturally, I wouldn't understand if a brick hit me cause we're both girls and a guy has a problem with it. I would forget some people think there's something wrong with this. it's only love, the realest love.

we found gifts, and we felt so married, to me; together, looking for something specific, partners in all things, in a public place, strolling and loving the time unfolding slowly cause we're together, and I want to know what she's stopped to look at, what she's thinking about.

my wife. my wifeeeee. My WIFE, my wiiife!! she smiles so bright I'm starting a reminder to take pictures of her. we giggle and say "my wife" to each other a lot, and then make incomprehensible noises of disbelief and joy.

we met on here, so I feel like it's a good idea to post about this, because it's thanks to here that I know her. talk to the people you admire in secret, so you can admire them to their face. I seem to be brave about this only when it seems to intensely matter, and I seem to be right about it mattering.

december 19, 2022 🖤

[irndad]

in every other life- s.r.

a/n: my soul is in this mf fic. there's a lil sexual tension lol! this is a behemoth of pining. so much fucking pining. this guy needs you like air wtf!! ALSO the poem is from a book, the lover's dictionary by david levithan. summary: the love of spencer's life is also his best friend, and she goes on a few dates. he does not handle it well, internally. ft. metaphysics by our dear genius boy. wc: 3.3k (holy shit)

While he recognizes that no direct injustice has actually been done to him, he can’t help but feel that it’s so unfair. 

Because Spencer had never actually wanted much of anyone, actually. He was too much of a child through his entire education, and he’d found anyone that he’d even consider had almost instantly had dismissed him. He’d grown used to a life where companionship wasn’t a desire that crossed his mind. 

But he wanted her. 

His lovely friend, his coworker, who was the kind of lovely that it feels unfair you’d ever have to take your eyes off of. She’s the best person he’s ever met, the sort of wonderful you read about but never convince yourself you’ll ever see. He knows the shape of her, has her form memorized from watching, waiting for her to step into the office every day.  

It was only a matter of time until he wasn’t the only one with his eye on her. 

She’s actually absurdly easy to want. There’s nights where they watch something, often what he picked, Doctor Who or some other science fiction which would be great if he could focus on anything but her. Her warm disposition ruminating his too-small apartment with a kind of light that follows his every movement. He’d adore her even if she wasn’t, but it’s impossible to ignore how beautiful she is- the kind of pretty that you hardly expect to see in real life. 

“Hey you,” her so-sweet voice is what breaks him out of his daydreaming, and he looks up at her lovely face smiling down at him. Fondness seeps through her tone, and it’s everything he can do not to preen that her first thought at seeing him is one of pleasure. 

“Hey back,” he says, greeting her with a warm grin of his own. “How was your weekend?”

It’s a calculated question. 

She had canceled their weekly movie night. He’d tried not to look too disappointed, like the idea of her next to him on his couch, of her nimble fingers raking through his unkempt hair while something nice, but far less wonderful than his company played in the background wasn’t all that was keeping him going. These days, and he knows it’s likely delusion, that she sometimes seems to gaze back at him with a similar sort of desperation, hooded eyes and tenderness. 

It’s a liminal space, those nights. How can people be two things at once? You cannot be both in love and not. In the low-light of his place, under his blanket- it’s like Schrodinger’s experiment. She can’t love him like a friend and more at the same time- it resists the laws of physics. She is his best friend, a fact he knows as sure as gravity and the elements, and believing anymore than that- it’s asserting an impossibility. 

When they’re alone together, though. It seems like the impossible exists. 

But she’d canceled it, something she hadn’t done for the months they’d been engaging in their little tradition. So there had to be a reason. She sits next to him, her desk next to his. 

She looks a little disheveled, only in an adorable way- but a little like she’s been busy, like her flow is disrupted.

“It was good! I finally went out with that guy Penelope’s been begging me to let her set me up with.”

It’s all that he can do not to freeze up. 

Penelope has been trying to get her to go out with her friend Ben, which Spencer thinks is a stupid name, by the way, and secretly he’d been so, so pleased when she had brushed off the invite. It’s a dangerous thing, hope. He tries not to have too much of it, tries to savor the thought of her, of more for moments of particular vulnerability. It’s treacherous, to want her the way he does. He knows he can’t let himself feel it all the way. 

And logistically- romance is not a reason for a valid reason for him to be panicking the way he is, but all he can think about is the physics. Two opposite things cannot be true at the same time. 

“You know, studies suggest that even now, the majority of couples are meeting in person or through friends over any other medium.” 

It hurts to say. She’s part of a couple, one half a whole that he doesn’t complete. 

“Seriously? I’d have thought it’d changed by now. I guess it’s safer to date someone you know.”

She’d date someone she knew? Is that what she prefers? 

“How did it go?” He hears Emily ask, and this conversation is already the bane of his existence.

“Guys, it really wasn’t a big deal! We got dinner, it was just a little thing.”

Spencer isn’t experienced in dating, but he does know that dinner is a serious date. Coffee is a smaller thing, but dinner-

Dinner means she got pretty for him. Probably picked out a dress for the evening, spent time on a carefully manicured look. Spent hours of her precious, rare, time on him. 

It’s not fair how much he fucking hates this guy. 

“Dinner is not nothing!” Penelope squeals, and he would love to share in her excitement, except it kind of feels like a piece of his heart is being shredded. 

“Dinner means coming up to my place, have coffee, oh look who doesn’t have her hair done-“

Please kill me, he thinks. Please. 

“Oh, that definitely did not happen.”

Thank god. 

Except he can’t miss her flush, how her expression shifts- and he has the sickening feeling he’d be hearing that guy’s name again. 

When they all settle around the table, her doe eyes focused on gruesome images that were the exact antithesis of her spirit, he couldn’t help but feel that even if it hurt, there was finality. 

The cat was out of the box. Two things cannot be true at once, and so only one is- she does not love him, at least not the way he does. 

Ben, is not in fact, going away. 

If he had more willpower or self-preservation, Spencer would keep his distance from her, but the truth of it is that as much as he wants to be the person she turns to, her smile is most of why he can stand his job anymore. 

It’s a Tuesday, and everyone is grumbling about being pulled in early in the morning, but he’s just happy to have a reason to leave the house.

“Spence!” He hears her excited voice carry, the pretty sound picking his ears up at once. “I got you coffee. It’s hazelnut, and it’s like, 90% sugar. You’re gonna love it.”

She beams at him, and he takes it in his hands. Their hands brush, and he tries so hard not to notice how soft her hands are. Her name is on the cup, and an unconsenting fantasy of her name meaning that he’s hers creeps into his mind before he can bat it away.  

But her cup says Ben. 

“Thanks,” he says her name, tries to sound measured and friendly. “Coffee date?”

She preens, and god, if this guy doesn’t get how lucky he is it might be thing thing that actually sends him over the edge after all these years.

“Just a quick thing, we were just in the same place and he bought me a coffee, I’d already gotten yours.”

If there’s two roles he can fill and he doesn’t get to pick, if he’s stuck with friends, he’s gonna be great at it, and he’s gonna be grateful. Because knowing her is a grace in itself, the kind of thing you should could yourself so lucky to have. 

“He sounds like a great guy,” he hears himself say, “I’m glad you’re doing this.”

It’s the right thing to say. He’s sure of it. The thing he’s not sure of is why the smile she offers him doesn’t reach her eyes. 

The next time he notices the cracks in their relationship, it’s when they’re out. She’d suggested this bookstore-cafe kind of thing, and he’d jumped at the thought, all of his favorite things in one afternoon. He’d felt foolish spending so much time picking out his outfit out, wearing the blazer she’d once complimented-he’d actually stuttered so hard in thanks that Morgan laughed for a full minute when she left the room- but she always looked beautiful, and he knows he sometimes pales in comparison. 

“Oh, I love this one!” She thumbs over the spine of a thin book of poetry. She’s wearing a forest green sweater that hugs her frame, and a bracelet hangs on her delicate wrist. He loves looking at her, though he tries to conceal it. His goal of being a supportive friend includes trying not to make it that known how gone for her he is. 

“I don’t read too much poetry,” he admits, “But I’m sure you have excellent taste.” 

Her keen eyes skim through the pages intently, clearly seeking out a specific passage before stopping, gaze alight with recognition. 

Her tone is molasses-sweet when she begins reading, and his heart skips a beat.

“When I say be my lover,” her voice hitches, reverent of the quote and he is reverent of her, “ I don’t mean ‘let’s have an affair. I don’t mean Sleep with me. I don’t mean Be my secret. I want us to go back to that root. I want you to be the one who loves me. I want to be the one who loves you.”

It feels impossible to look away from her, doe eyes practically sparkling in the low light of the shop, and there it is. His heart’s in his throat. Of all the things you could have told Spencer he’d experience, hearing her lovely voice wrap around the words be my lover in hushed tone, in sacred sweetness, would never ever be one he’d guess. 

He’s not sure how he feels about the multiverse theory, but right now, he can feel all the versions of himself pressing right up against him. Can see into lives he doesn’t get to live, lifetimes where his love isn’t a buried, worn-out tattered thing to keep his ever-frigid chest warm. Versions of himself that in this very moment can smile back at her, warm and open and kind, and kiss her perfect smile. 

Because he would be her lover. He would come home to her, spend the rest of his life building a home that she could fit  into. It’d be easy, actually. She’s easy to imagine- nights of laughing in a shared kitchen, evenings where her company is a fine wine, sipped at leisure with the comfort of knowing it’s never going to slip from your grasp. 

“I like that,” he says, voice too vulnerable for his own good, eyes unable to tear from the eye contact. “I really like that.” 

In the root of it, he already is her lover. He is the one who loves her. She’s just not his. 

It comes to a head on a Friday. It’s a few weeks from he book shop, and the air feels heavier between them now. The last handful of Fridays he’s sat with the ghost of what used to be their plans, empty time lingering where in its’ place used to be her company. 

He doesn’t know if she’s been with Ben. He tries not to think about it. 

The sound of her voice lingers in his mind, sweet and bitter in his mind like old lemon candy, the kind his mother would save for special occasions. He’d spend any amount of money he had to hear her lovely voice say those words to him out of the context of a poem. 

At work, they seem almost normal. Like one of them wasn’t desperately in love with the other; like a genius and his lovely, incredibly empathetic, kind best friend. In the field, their actions flow together seamlessly. She is always the first to listen and to understand (and god, isn’t it intoxicating to have someone meet you in understanding) and there is nothing to suspect is off.

But there’s still a cloud lingering. The poem- the soft melody of her voice curling around the words, the request of it all, the way she had sounded so wanting- and then, there’s Ben. 

She doesn’t mention Ben to him, of course, but Penelope does. Penelope, all bows and bright colors and cheeriness keeps bringing the absolute worst news to Spencer with a smile on her face. 

He’s taking her out for drinks! Oh, he’s reading her favorite book, do you know what it is?

This anger isn’t an emotion that he’s familiar with. A roar of possessiveness, the bite of it not tempered at all by rationality. Has he touched her?

It seems almost a tradition at this point when she shakes him out of his jealous storm of thought.

“Spence?” she muses, “You alright?” They’re alone at his desk, everyone having fled for their own evening and weekend plans. This was one of the Fridays that she had agreed to spend with him, and he wonders if he’ll be able to handle the scent of her shampoo so close after such a lapse of the sensation. Will all of his judgement go where he can’t follow?

“Yeah,” he says, tucking his papers into his bag, “I’m excited for tonight.”

His place is actually a short walk from the office. He’d been embarrassed to show her the place at first. It’s all function over fashion, and a bit cramped, but she’d looked at as though it was made of something more, something good. She didn’t even tease him. It had actually been her idea, to start these movie nights. 

Ironic, really. 

The walk was pleasant, the weather a little frigid but still nice, and she looks beautiful under the setting sun. It’s incredible to him, how her lashes catch the light and make her irises look like polished stained glass. His favorite color. Through the looking glass of another life, he sees a version of himself that gathers her up in his arms. In this daydream, she grants him one of her smiles that seems to carry its’ own light, and leans into his body like it’s the only thing that keeps her steady. It’s so clear. On the other side of the veil, he kisses her reddening nose, and keeps her warm himself. 

In the here and now, Her coat is long, and hangs low by her ankles. It’s an elegant thing, like the woman who wears it, and Spencer would be grateful for a lifetime of just looking.They stop in front of his door, some invisible force stopping him from entering. 

She sheds the coat inside his home. It smells like the candle she got him for his birthday, a reminder of her grace. He’s saved a bottle of wine for them, a sweet thing for the sweetest thing he’s known. 

“I’m sorry,” she speaks the warmth of the beverage on her tongue, and it should feel abrupt but it doesn’t.

“What for?” He can’t imagine what she would have to apologize for. 

“I know things have been…off between us,” she says carefully, considering the phrasing of each word. He watches her with a reverence, his hazel eye brimming with affection with nowhere to go. “You’ve been so great through it.”

Her legs are thrown across his own, and she’s dangerously close to sitting in his lap, but not exactly. He’s missed having her this close, the last time she’d been in his orbit was before she’d had reason to be gone. She smells floral. He fights With limited filtering through his already treacherous mind he thinks, He can’t take this from me. I still get her like this. 

“I’m not entirely sure what it is.” 

She slowly shuts her eyes, go for a moment to somewhere he can’t follow. Her cheeks are rosy from the cold. 

“This whole Ben thing.”

“Oh.”

Logically, it always had to come back to this. Someone else had the good fortune to know her like this, to be the person she reads poetry to in deep meaning to. 

He’s been stealing moments from someone who’s not his to take them from. 

“I don’t even know how I wanted you to react.” she murmurs, staring at the rim of her glass. 

“I just want you to be happy” His voice is something low, grit in the sound of it. His hand rests on her thigh. There’s warmth blanketing the room and he wants to kiss her. He wants to kiss her all the time. 

She laughs, but it’s not her normal laugh. It’s tinny and a little bitter. He pushes his luck, and reaches out to brush the side of her face, moving the hair but still holding her face. Her breath smells like strawberry wine and temptation. 

It feels different tonight. Low light and tension that could be sliced with wire. Every part of her is in reach, and something in the air makes all of this talk of relativity, of physics, moot. 

Like maybe he’s not in the only world they don’t end up together. 

Her face is warm and soft under his touch and he loves the sight of her. He’s never touched her like this. Every point of contact feels electric, addicting. 

“What is it? The Ben thing?” He doesn’t know what he’s expecting to hear. What he wants, is for her to tell him that it doesn’t matter anymore, that she picks him-

“I only went out with him the once.”

“What?”

“I told Penelope I was still going because it made her happy and she said I couldn’t keep going to your apartment and reading you poetry and call that romance.”

Romance? 

Wasn’t it romance, though? 

Her eyes widen in something akin to horror. 

“Shit, Spence- I’m sorry, that is so fucked of me to say-“

“You,” he tries to say calmly, “aren’t going out with Ben.”

She blinks. 

“No?”

He has spent so much time living in other lives, existing in the minds of versions of himself he wasn’t lucky enough to be. Drinking coffee imagine a life colored in her presence, falling asleep yearning for the presence of something lighter than what he has to carry. 

He can’t exist in two places. That was the entire basis of the experiment. 

He moves his other hand to hold hers, and somehow she’s shifted to being on top of him, and he looks up at her with unwavering desire. 

Spencer isn’t good at wanting people, but it comes naturally with her. Less of an action and more an urge, a course of motion to which he is at the mercy of. This is what leads him to close the gap between them, and kiss her. It’s 

Her delicate fingers run through his hair, and she can’t be close enough, please, and he could spend the rest of his life kissing her, actually. He probably will spend the rest of his life thinking about the soft sigh he pulls out of her. 

“I want it to be me,” he manages to say through shallow breath, still so close that his lips brush hers every other word, “I want to be the one you pick. I want it to be me.” His hazel eyes seem to shift in the moment, swirling with emotion. 

She brushes a lock of his overgrown hair out of his face. He normally shaves when he sees her, but he’d been so busy that he’d forgotten, and felt embarrassed of it now. That is, until she runs her index finger along the edge of his jawline.

It’s then she leans down and kisses him again, pliant and good, his hands around her waist. He breathes a prayer into her mouth, one that hopes that she never ever comes to her senses about him. 

“Spence,” she says, her voice golden silk, a kindness.  “There was never anyone else to pick.” 

[heartfullofleeches]

Perfectly Sweet

Yandere Candy Harem + Gender Neutral Candy Witch Reader

Word Count: 10.7k

Summary: After a tragic incident resulting in the loss of your bakery, you awake in a land of sweets desperately searching for a way to return to a time and place that has abandoned you.

Warnings: Light body horror, [candy] cannibalism, hallucinations

A/N: A piece A few months in the makings. I hope you all enjoy :)

-

There once was a witch.

The first of her kind.

“A candy witch? What a silly idea!” 

 She was sure to disagree. 

“It’s my magic. Shouldn’t I have a say in its use? If I can’t do for myself first, I haven’t the heart to do a thing for anyone at all!” 

The witchling was the youngest in a lineage of powerful witches dating back to the founding days of their cozy little town. Her mother was the town healer in her prime and her mother’s great-grandmother fertilized the ground for which their town was built upon. The little witch had big shoes to fill, but neither fret nor shied away from what fate had decided. No – she outright rejected it, and sought to fill her dreams and goals much closer to home - right in the pit of her bottomless stomach. 

If the girl had one claim to fame before her prime, it had to be her enormous sweet tooth. She started her days with two spoonfuls of sugar, and three more by noon. She was not tied to the restriction of the human diet and did as she pleased to satisfy her endless craving. 

“Even tragedy can be sweet if it’s paired with the right treat.” – A saying she swore to remain true to, but behind closed doors the little witch could not carry her own words to heart. As the days of her coronation drew near, she became aware of the whispers around town – how self and cruel she was for abandoning tradition and her people. The kind faces she’d known all her years slowly turned spiteful and bitter – spurning her ambitions, and her turning her back on the community that raised her. The young witch wore a brave face, but behind closed doors she was not as bold as she seemed. She cried and cried, swallowing sugar and honey to ease her pain.

Due to constant ridicule and mockery, the little witch would have given up on everything had it not been for that one person.

On the eve of a new moon, there was a knock at her window. The young child of the town baker came to her with a task capable for her talents alone. With an influx of orders their parents had forgotten to bake a cake for their child’s birthday. Used to the treatment they did not wish to go another year without celebration and fled in the dead of night to the only source who could aid in their troubling times. 

The little witch could hardly hide her annoyance. Lack of a party was one thing, but no celebratory desserts to make up for it? No cake? Pie? Not even sweet bread? What fools the human had the misfortune of calling their parents. Could their kind do nothing without the help of hers? 

Against her own volition, she acted from the kindest of her heart and sought to fulfill their desperate plea. The little witch brought the young baker into her home, and through the night the two created the most extravagant birthday cake the baker nor anyone in town had ever seen. The excitement they expressed wasn’t held by them alone. The little witch had more fun baking with them than she ever had with a member of her blood. The gratitude and joy on the human’s face was something she had never seen before. Something strange. It made her feel odd. They must have slipped poison into her dish, but even that didn’t seem right. 

They treated her as a lifelong friend though their alliance began that very night where it should have ended. Being with that human gave her a toothache unlike any sugary treat could. As their bond grew, the witch would gradually learn that what she tasted that fateful eve was the start of something true. That human cracked the icy cage sheltering her fragile heart and woke her to new desires. 

She wanted to see them smile again. She wanted to make others happy in hopes it’d give her that same strange feeling in her stomach again. She’d never feel that exact  spark from anyone besides her new found friend, but the warmth in her chest was powerful to keep her newfound goals onward. 

The little witch and the baker’s child were inseparable from that day on. The pair grew as one - perfecting the recipes passed down to the young baker and adding a few of their own to the mix. They shared their creations with the town to prove the witch’s dreams were true as any other. Many still opposed, but they could not turn a blind eye to the duo’s efforts. The day of her awakening came and the young witch remained true to her heart – supported by her dearest friend who created an entire buffet of sweets to celebrate their second happiest day together.

Balancing magic and her culinary skills, the then adult witch unlocked feats far beyond that of her ancestors. A witch’s heart was their most powerful tool, and hers was filled with the love she held for sweets, her town, and the baker who changed everything for her. They flourished right alongside her into a kind, strong hearted individual, and later took over their parents' bakery as was tradition in their family. Just as she owed her success to them, they could do little without the aid of their favorite witch and invited her to take ownership with them. She’d be a fool to refuse their offer.

Perfecting her craft in all corners, the witch discovered what wonders her sweets could truly possess with a sprinkle of magic – some more groundbreaking than others, but nonetheless spectacular. Cupcakes that turn hair the same color as their frosting. Hard candies that could cure most illnesses. Cookies that would grant the eater’s truest wish with a single bite. She created an entire house made of sugar and sweetness for her and her dearest friend to live in. The townspeople who relied on the witch’s magic were amazed by the fruit of her hard labor, and the baker couldn’t be prouder which made the witch happier beyond compare. They noticed how hard she worked and only wished there was more they could do for her. The demands of the people piled in by the day, and though she wore a smile everyday they could see the cracks. The witch merely laughed off their worries, and carried on as usual. 

She was happy. They were happy. Everyone in the whole town was happy – but the happy days wouldn’t last forever unless the baker did something to aid the woman they loved. 

Rumors floated around town of normal humans becoming powerful witches over time. They say it only took a brave heart, a dedicated mind, and a wish. What people didn’t was that there was a fourth element involved. The second most important in a witch’s survival.

A strong body.

The baker pleaded with the witch to allow them to learn magic beside her. She had never been able to say no to them. The baker was a natural. Once she deemed them ready to practice, the human would master spells even she had difficulty with. It was no surprise to her considering their passions were one in the same, and if anyone was truer to their ambitions than her it was them. Together, the two were unstoppable. Untouchable. They worked off each other’s weaknesses and knew the other better than they knew themselves.

Which is why the witch was the first to notice. 

It began with a cough. The weather had grown quite chilly so neither thought much of it. A few of the witch’s homemade remedies and they felt good as new. Then - they began sleeping in. They went under spells of fatigue from the littlest tasks. Soon enough, they couldn’t even hold a spoon. 

The witch tried every spell in the book to save them. She took on the manning the shop alone so they were able to rest. It was the loneliest she had felt in years, but she’d do anything to save the human she loved. In the end, it was all for nothing. 

They died in their sleep while she was away from home – fulfilling the wishes of others while hers died alone at home.

The witch did everything she could.

She cried.

She begged.

She ate till her stomach felt like it was going to burst. 

To ease the pain, to bring them back - but even she could not raise the dead.

The cookies she shoved down her throat tasted bland and stale. Nothing was sweeter than the kisses the baker placed to her cheek every morning. She never got to tell them. She never had the chance to express her true feelings.

The witch screamed. 

Tore her hair out and cursed whatever horrible force that bound her to this fate. Made her weak. 

Please….

She cried over and over. 

Take me instead.

Don’t leave me here all alone.

 I can’t do this without you.

You said you’d never leave me.

Why?...

Please…

DON’T LEAVE ME! 

The townspeople gave her time to grief. It was the only mercy they gave. The knocking began. Their whispers slipped beneath her door. They asked her for more. She’d given them everything. Her heart, her love, her sweet, foolish baker- yet they still wanted more.

Selfish.

Greedy.

Cruel.

That’s all their kind had ever been. They took and took until there was nothing left. No… There was still one thing. She wasn’t going to let them take the shattered pieces. She refused to let them walk over her as they had trampled those before her. She’d take back everything they stole and more. She’d create a world catered to her desires. A place made of cinnamon and sugar, with subjects molded from the same ingredients and just as sweet. Creations who’d love and obey her for the rest of eternity. What the witch didn’t know…

Was they’d betray her worst of all. 

.

.

.

“Alright…. I think that’s enough for one year….”

“Awww.. but we nearly reached the end this time, didn’t we?”

“Yes, but – are you really sure this is something you want to hear on your birthday? It’s a pretty tale…” 

“Of course! I want to know everything about you, Sweets. Even old fairy tales in older, duster cookbooks.” 

“Hahaha, Fine….. Stay with me another year and we’ll finish it – I promise.”

“Better wish real hard then…. Who knows how many we have left.” 

.

.

.

“Help me…..”

.

.

.

“Help!” 

Smoke pads your lungs. Hands – hardened and calloused from years of labor pound and claw pathetically against solid wood. In lighter years, visitors would joke it’d take a stampede to tear down the door of your bakery. Fresh tears sting your wet eyes at the painful resurgence of memory. You press your apron tighter over your mouth and nose - sucking what precious oxygen remains as you prepare for what may be your last plea.

"Please, help me! I didn't do it!"

You know they can hear you. Over the crackling pops of roaring flames and the walls caving in around, your voice reigns louder than all. You hear their chants grow louder to drown you out. Accusations of a crime you'd lay your own life before than commit.

"I didn't hurt them! I'd never hurt them…. They were all I had. Please don't do this to us!..... At least let me say goodbye…."

Their chorus continues. Doubt seeps into the shouts of many at your desperate cries, but their verdict remains the same. 

witch….

Witch….

WITCH. 

There's no use. None of them will change their mind. If anyone tries to help you now they'll surely be tied to the same fate. Blinking away tears and the burn from your eyes with one final look at those who had forsaken you, you turn on your heels - rushing back into the flames devouring everything you once knew and loved. There had to be another way out. Every entrance had been board up, but… the windows-

Acting swiftly, you hurry into the kitchen - swiping the satchel used for your deliveries from its hook right before the entire rack is brought down by falling degree.You move as fast as your feet would carry - quickly grabbing everything that wasn't nailed to the floor and small enough to not weigh you down. Jars. Tools. Bottles. Anything to help you restart elsewhere, and remind you what you once had - no matter how much it hurts. 

Stuffing towels and broken dreams into your bag, the growing strain on your shoulder tells you enough is enough. Only one more thing left to grab. Your legs wobble as you approach the counter. Rubble and ash fall around you as you reach out. It's still open to that page. There's dough and flour beneath your nails - same as when you were kids just playing around in the kitchen. You swore they loved those cookies more than your friendship. Still you made them every year-

The batch of freshly made treats sits right beside it - packed away in that star shaped tent saved just for their special day. You were just about to make the frosting when they came. When the news was broken to you in the most ways. You barely had the chance to process it all before they started pointing fingers. All the ingredients are right there. All the memories. All the pain. You realize now there is no escape from this - not here. 

You pick a cookie from the tent - your entire world crumbling around you as you raise your hand to your mouth. Flames lick the ceiling as you take a bite.

Please… take me far away from here. 

A loud snap re-alerts you to your surroundings. A small groan is all that warns of what to come. All at once, the floor beneath you caves in. Feeling the ground disappear from under your feet, your arms instinctively reach for the book on the counter as you plummet. Falling with increasing speed, you clutch the book to your chest as the world above is swallowed by the darkness blanketing your weightless body - a silent scream cast into the void. Smoldering wood joins you as the ceiling to your baker and home finally collapses under the pressure. The last thing you see before your body hits solid ground is the same starless night you've fallen asleep beneath your whole life. .

.

.

"Mmm, so good. These are your best yet!"

"That's what you always say-"

"Because your treats just keep getting better and better. You're amazing, Sweets!" 

"You know, I never figured out why you call me that."

"Isn't it obvious? You make the best desserts in the whole world! Way better than mama's - I swear it's like she mixed up the sugar jar with the salt one." 

"Haha, I guess that makes a little sense-" 

"But - there is one other reason… " 

"What is it?"

"I think that's pretty obvious too…You're the sweetest person I've ever met."

 .

.

.

"Mm…. Ngh…"

Your head feels like it's split in two. You can't move - every limb stiff as stone. Darkness still surrounds you. Even breathing is a labored task that siphons all your strength for a single breath. Breathing…

You open your eyes - clamping them almost immediately as bright light beads down into them - assaulting your shot sense with its rays.

"Ach.." Steadying the air flow through your chest, you wiggle your fingers and toes - channeling circulation to the rest of your extremities as your heels and fingertips dig at soft earth. Rolling onto your side, you push yourself off the ground and upright; the weight of your satchel hindering your movement. You blink a few times to let your eyes adjust to the environment, rubbing at the sore joints in your neck. 

"What… happened?"

As soon as the words leave your mouth it all rushed back to you. The fire. The fall. Your eyes dart around, perplexed by the lack of ash and dirt walls around you. Grass scratches your bare legs as you pull them to your chest. The sun's harsh rays beat down on you from above. Tree leaves rustle in the strangely syrupy scented wind. Footsteps imprint in the soft earth - trailing away from where you lie. Did… someone save you? Something feels off. You draw a hand to your face; the freedom of your arms alerting your senses to a troubling particument - more troubling than the one you've found yourself in now. 

Your book. Where is it?

Where is it. Where is it. 

The strength in your limbs replenishes at such speeds it gives you a headrush as you spring to your knees. You sweep your hands across the dirt floor around you, searching the barren land around you before you lose your mind wandering through the forest. Dirt catches beneath your nails as they scratch at the soft earth. The texture of the soil - it doesn't feel right. It squishes between your fingers, rich and moist like it is after fresh rainfall, but there hasn't been rain in weeks nor does the scent of rain linger in the air. All that resides is that sweet stench. A whiff of cocoa passes in the gentle breeze as you wipe sweat from your forehead. 

Your legs fold beneath you like a stack of cards as you attempt to stand. Using a nearby tree as a crutch, you pull yourself to your feet - stumbling on wobbling knees and driving your shoulder into the bark of the tree as you fall against it. A nut wrestles free of its branch from the force and lands directly on your head.

"Ouch!" You rub the sore spot of your skull, looking down and drawing your foot to vent your frustration on the pour seedling-

"Huh?" 

You plant both feet steady on the ground. Where what should have been a seed sits a bright red candy wrapper nestled safely in the grass. Curious, you pick it up- inspecting the foil casing. There's nothing of note besides a star pattern printed right where the seams meet. You wedge your nail beneath the fold, peeling back the wrapper to reveal a piece of candy with a similar crimson color to its outer layer. It fits between your fingers no bigger than a small apple. Drool dampens your lips as your image shines in its reflection. You hadn't had a single thing to eat since breakfast and even then you only ate enough to last you for the period rather than the long day of work ahead of you. Popping the candy into your mouth, you bite down without a second thought. 

Solid and firm on the outside, the candy bursts like the gooey filling of warm pie filling under the pressure of your teeth. Nutmeg and cinnamon overwrite your senses of taste and smell, followed swiftly by the taste of baked apple coated in a sugary glaze. It's been a while since someone has asked you to make an apple pie. For a moment, you think of making one when you return home before it hits you have no home to go back to. You're not even sure where it once stood. It's clear by now you are not where home used to be. Then where are you?

Snap!

Collecting - a twig snaps somewhere off behind you. You turn your head in the direction of the sound. "Hello?"

No one answers your call. Without making a sound, a figure steps out into the tree lining. Lanky and bent at an odd angle; standing just enough into the shade and bushes all you could see was below their chin. Their skin is an odd shade of pink; likeness akin to freshly chewed bubblegum. Couldn't be a sunburn, but you chalk it up to be a trick of the sun. A bright red bow wraps tightly around their neck, poking out from the collar of the puffy sleeve white shirt they wore beneath a striped, chestnut colored vest. 

"Hello….." 

Their voice was low in pitch and wet - revoltingly sweet and syrupy thick just like the air; almost drowning in their chest as they spoke.You swallow your nerves as you pose your dry lips to speak. "Excuse me, but I think I'm lost…. Have… have you seen a book anywhere?"

The figure tilts their head, twin, bright pink pig tails dangling from the sides of their head - drooping over their shoulders like melting wax. Even the angle of their neck is off. How can it bend at that sharply?

"Would you…. like some taffy?" 

You quickly toss the half-eaten fruit in your age as you take a step back. "I think sugar is the last thing I need right now-"

The figure stills for a moment - calculating their next words carefully. 

"Would you… like some taffy?~" 

A tiny giggle erupts from their chest. "No, I already said that. Look, I really need to-"

"Are you looking for this?..." 

The stranger pulls a rectangular item from the bushes - aged leather cover barely intact with its spine. You notice that two fingers on their left hand appear to be stuck together, pinky finger nowhere to be seen. Cautiously, you take a step forward, extending a hand. 

"Yes… That's exactly what I'm looking for..  May I please have it?

"I'll give it to you if you do something for me…"

"Please, it's very important."

"It's been so long since I've had company… it won't take too much off your time"

You chew at your lips. "What do you need me to do?"

"Come closer…I just want to get a good look at you. You're so pretty from afar"

You take a step forward. Just grab the book and run.

"Closer…"

Another. 

"closer." 

You stand right in front of them. You make a grab for your book, but their reflexes are quicker. The figure grabs you, locking you to their chest in an iron tight grip. Their head rests on your shoulder as they stroke their longer fingers down the length of your back - humming with a softness foreign to their tone before then. You bring your arms up to hug them back. It's then, at a close proximity, you're able to see the large chunk of flesh ripped from their neck.

"Thank you…." 

Thin digits run up your arm and face, stroking the line of your bottom lip as they giggle softly. You cringe as a hand latches onto your chin - prying your mouth open.

"Now, eat up~"

Before you have time to react, the creature shoves two of its fingers into your mouth - palm slamming into your chin and locking your jaws around their skin. Opening your eyes, you're met with the swirling insanity of their orbs as your teeth sink into their flesh. Spiraling red and white irises like the swirls in peppermint candies. Their lips seem to almost be melting together - a small hole torn through the outer wall of their left cheek. Crimson blush paints their cheeks - an impossible wide smile reveals cherry red teeth.

You squirm and struggle with all your might - attempting to wrestle yourself from their grip, but their hold is too strong. Their skin melting against the heat of yours makes escape all the more distant. Your teeth slice through the meat of their fingers like hot butter as you're forced to bite down. Their skin doesn't break like normal flesh. Queasiness hits your stomach like a rock as they're completely severed from seemingly non-existent bone. Even worse, you feel the severed digits inch their way towards the back of your throat. Tears prick your eyes as their flesh sticks to your teeth. You try to scrap it off with your tongue, only smearing it into your gums and against the roof of your mouth. Expecting the copper taste of blood - the flavor that bursts on your taste buds unlocks a core memory in your mind from your childhood. 

It's taffy. 

Cherry taffy.

You'd recognize that chewy taste and texture anywhere. The fiend notices the flicker of familiarity in your eyes as your muscles temporarily ease from the confusion. Their bizarre smile stretches as you chew at their flesh almost by reflex - swallowing them near whole. More fits of laughter bubble from their throat as a bubbling warm settles in your chest, spreading throughout.

"Tastes good, doesn't it? I knew you would like me once I saw that page in your book. Humans like candy after all..."

Your limbs lock up as they had when you woke as that warmth spreads throughout your body, creeping back up your throat and out your mouth in a tiny hiccup of laughter that has the taffy creature grinning from ear to ear. Your heart hammers against the shaking cage of your chest - laughter echoing from every corner of the forest. It's soon you realize the laughter is your own coupled with the fiend's cackling shrieks and the far off rattles of the trees.

"Your voice is so pretty… I like you..  I like you!.. Hey, you'll eat more of me, right? Candy is supposed to be eaten by humans. Are you listening?" 

You try - but everything that comes out of their mouth is so funny you can't hear a thing over your laughter.  What's happening? Lost in the swirling spirals of their eyes, the rawness of your throat barely registers in your weary mind as giggles are yanked and pulled from you. The convulsions in your stomach built into a deep ache in your abdomen. The tears in your lashes pour down your face - caught by a sticky tongue that leaves a trail of pink slick up your cheek. 

"Oh!- Giving me a treat? You're too kind… please don't cry… I'll let you rest for now. I'd hate for you to get sick… see you soon…." 

Your body falls back to that weightless, floating state. You can't tell if you're standing, fallen over, or something else entirely. The trees close around you - snuffing what little air passes through your chest. Your jaws hang slack as a hand reaches out from the horde. Your lips close around fluffy air as your vision fades to black out once more. 

.

.

.

"Ta-da!"

Fire snaps and pops within the confines of a handmade pit. In the flames, you see the two of you as children - piling books on top of chairs to steal the matchbox their parents hid in a cabinet too tall for either of you to reach. Where you excelled beyond your years elsewhere, they had always been a master at building the perfect campfire among other things. They were so proud of their skills. Crickets chirp and stars twinkle brilliantly in the pale blue night sky…

Stars?...

"One S'more hot off the stick - courtesy of your bestest friend in the whole wild world."

They take a bite out of theirs, gooey marshmallow fluff oozing from the crackers. They sport a toothy smile, burnt fluff sticking to their lips and teeth. They chipped a front tooth on a jawbreaker right after it had grown in when you were little - yet their smile is without imperfection. They lost the roundness in their face and shape the person next to you has as their condition got worse. While their body failed, their hair and skin never got that pale either - nor did they have horns. Short, stubby little horns peeking from fluffy white tufts of hair framing their chubby, freckled cheeks. It's not them, but at the same time your mind clicks the familiar pieces of a night similar to this and for you that's all it takes. The heat of the fire kisses away your tears. 

A bright blue blanket keeps you joined at the shoulder with them. Tiny yellow dots mirror the shining stars hanging over you. 

"Mmm… s'mores are so good… Hm? What's wrong? We can't all be talented bakers, I'm trying my best here. You look like you've seen a ghost!" 

Tightness grips at your chest. Despite their appearance, it's still their voice if not a bit softer than you recall. "Addie…. You…." 

Their smile falls - sad, tired eyes drooping behind heavy lids. Their voice mellows into a tranquil whisper of what it once was. If it weren't for the stress and the fact you were already dreaming you might've drifted off to sleep as they spoke. "I know…. I just wanted you to have a good dream… I like this place, but you shouldn't be here right now. Maybe someday in the near future you can show it to me again and we can talk more about this.. Addie person."  

"Who are you?"

"I'll tell you when we meet in person. Can you do me a favor when we do? I think my blanket fell off me, but I had such a nice time here with you I don't think I'll wake up anytime soon.. I'm a little cold now, so can you please tuck me back in?" 

"I'll… see what I can do."

"Thank you. I hope we can become closer the more we see each other. It's nice to have someone to dream with. You really should wake up soon…" 

Their fingers intertwine with yours, placing the S'more in your open palm.

"But it doesn't hurt to dream just a little longer." 

You take a bite. Charred fluff explodes from between the crackers and onto your tongue. You always had to stop them from turning your marshmallows to near ash as they preferred theirs. You chew slower to savor the taste as their head rests on your arm. You close your eyes - letting everything melt in.

The taste of burnt marshmallow. 

The chilly night air.

Them.

You chew and chew - opening your eyes to find yourself right back where you once were. Stickiness clings to your lips. They feel a bit chalky too. You scrap it off with your nails, wiping marshmallow fluff onto your stained apron. 

Your book sits a few inches in front of you in the dirt. You pick it up and inspect it from to back, checking each page to make sure everything is still there. There are pink fingerprints on a page detailing a recipe for hand pulled taffy. They curve into the arches of a heart at the bottom of the paper.

Riiing. 

Riiing. 

Somewhere off in the distance - a bell chimes. The instrument falls from the wielder's hand to their hip as they watch you. The bill of what looks to be a mailman's cap blocks you from direct eye contact or even a glimpse at their face. A satchel of better quality than yours hangs at their side - what looks to be a chalkboard dangling from their neck. 

After the last encounter, you're hesitant to speak to anyone you meet in this place, but you have no choice. "H…hello?

Same as with the other once, there's no response at first. The figure takes hold of the board around their neck, dragging their fingers along its surface. They turn the board to you - an arrow pointing to their left. As if to further get their point across, they raise a hand in the same direction. Each of their fingers appears to be a different color. Yellow. Pink. Blue. Green. Orange. They tip their hat at you before spinning on their heels and heading the opposite way.

"Wait!" You toss your book into your bag as you stand - giving chase as they dart around a tree. Wind nips at your exposed flesh as you sprint after them. By the time you reach where they once stood they're already leagues ahead of you. Sharp turns drive a deeper wedge in your distance from them. The faint jingle of their bell grows further and further away the closer you get - your voice drowning out its final chime. 

"Please - wait! I don't know where I am. I just want to go home. Where are you trying to send me? Please, I need your - wahh!"

Eyes straight ahead, you completely overlook the obstacle in your path until it sweeps the air from beneath you. You fall forward as your ankle connects with something hard jutting out of the earth. You throw your arms out to cushion your landing as your body is cruelly shoved into the dirt by gravity. 

"Ow…." Flipping yourself over, you lift up your apron to check the damage to your stinging right leg. The pants leg itself is torn, but your leg looks to be relatively okay besides the start of a bruise. Looking closer - green spots stain the fabric of your slacks around the mouth of the tear in them.  You glance over at the cause of your tumble - blood chilling in your veins. 

Sprawled across the forest floor was an entire human skeleton encased in some greenish, gel-like mass. Its hollow eye sockets gaze apathetically at nothing; arms curled to its chest. They stare straight through you and your shivering self feet away. The sludge that surrounds it almost fits perfectly to its thin frame, but there are some outliers in its shape. Two circular mounts sit atop its head like the ears of some animal. The gel bunches around their arms and neck like the sleeves and hood of a jacket. It seems to mimic both skin and clothing. You swallow the scream in your throat and use the energy to kick yourself off the ground as you flee - stopping dead in your tracks as a tiny voice calls out.

"Please don't go…." 

A tiny sniffle sounds from the body behind you. Its chest rises and falls slowly as its head tilts up to look at you. You freeze - stiff as a board. 

"I'm… not going to hurt you if that's what you're afraid of. I can't do anything really right now. I can't move.. It's getting darker… I just want to go home…" 

Their words strike a chord with you. Against every muscle screaming otherwise, you turn to face them again. "What… are you?"

"My name is Gumi… I'm a boy - if you were wondering. Like most of the things you've probably seen by now, I'm made out of candy. Could you please just stay here until my sister comes? She can help fix me and we can take you back to town. The forest is pretty large though, and I can't remember where I am so I don't know how long it will take her to find us." 

"Gumi…. I'm sorry, you have to understand how crazy this is for me… Let me help you sit up." You walk over to the candy body - scooping your arms beneath his and dragging him over to a nearby rock. Your fingers sink into his squishy flesh as you help him sit upright. Despite being made of sweets, he definitely had the weight of a human being. It's hard for him to sit up all the way - possibly due to the empty space in his abdomen leaving little support for his gummy flesh. There's a red misshapen mark in his chest where a heart would be, the organ obscured by the walls of candy around it.

"Thank you… What's your name?"

You glance at the ground. "Just… call me Sweets."

"Sweets…." Gumi parrots, "That's a nice name.."

"What happened to you?"

Gumi weakly pulls his arms tighter to his chest. "My spine… was taken. There's someone like me out here - a candy person, I mean. Their body can't hold a solid form, so they steal from other people in exchange for things to eat to keep it." 

You place your bag on the ground, kneeling as you search through it. All of this is giving you a headache, but you can't just leave him out here after being stuck for so long. "What do they normally eat?"

"Anything that will help them, really. Sugar, syrup, jam- but there's been talk of them drinking hu-"

Jam. Thank heavens you switched to plastic jars as soon as you were able to get your hands on some. "I have something I can trade. Can you tell me which direction they're in?" 

"W-what?!" Gumi's soft body tenses - falling forward into your arms. "No, it's too dangerous! I don't want anyone to get hurt because of me! Especially not someone who's been nice to me so far…." 

You place a hand on his back, guiding him back against the stone. "Like you said, it's getting darker and we don't know when your sister will find you. I'm sure we can come to an agreement with them. Not to brag, but I'm kind of the best - and only baker in my hometown."

"I…but-..." Gumi trips over his words- searching for a rebuttal, but finding nothing. He sighs. "Okay…. But take my head with you. If anything happens I can distract them long enough for you to get away…"

"Won't that..hurt?.." 

"No…. I'm sitting here without a spine, aren't I? It is pretty gross in my opinion, but my bones can be pulled apart and snapped back together easy. Watch." Gumi places both hands on the sides of his skull, twisting his head and the bones attaching it to his shoulder until it's loose enough to pop right off. His headless body passes his head off to you as it smiles meekly. 

"Creep… I know."

You gently take his head from his hands. "After the day I've had, I'd hardly consider this the worst part. If you ask me, I think it's kind of cool."

"C…cool?" Red bleeds from the center of his face all the way to the ears atop his head.

"Are you okay?" 

"Y-yeah… Nobody, besides my sister and a few others, have ever been this kind to me… The cave they live in is that way."

His body points in the same direction his eyes do. You move his head into one arm as you reach into your satchel. You pull out your book and tuck wit beneath your other arm as you remove your apron. You stuff it into your bag and place his head instead. 

"Is this comfortable for you? I'd hate to trip over something else and accidentally drop you.."

"Yes, but - could you please carry me in your arms. I-if I'm not too heavy of course. Humans have soft skin…. Was that weird to say?"

"I don't think so. I'll gladly carry you, but we should get going now. Can your body watch my book for me until we get back? It's important to me and I'd hate for it to get more damaged than it already is. It's pretty old considering it's a family heirloom" 

His voice softens. "You really trust me with something that special to you?..." 

You smile. "You haven't given me a reason not to." 

"okay…. O-Okay! I'll guard it with my life then." He holds out his hands and you set the book in them - leaving it in his possession. His body hugs it to his chest, waving as you and his head walk off.

-

Walking towards the cave, the silence gets to you before long. "So… you have a sister?"

Gumi looks up at you from the corners of his sockets. "Yeah… a little sister - we think. Her name is Lollie. We aren't actually related, but it's nice to have that bond. She has a bit of a temper, but she sticks up for me and I try to keep her out of trouble."

"That's so sweet… Can you tell me a bit about the town you guys live in?"

"There's not much to say about it..  It's all we've really ever known after watching up one day and finding each other before being picked up by the others. Chip repairs us the best he can when any of us breaks. Kreme makes clothes for those who wear them and made me and Lollie matching bracelets for our birthday. Valentine makes deliveries to everyone and collects things we need from the forest. There are others in town, but a few I don't see often and the rest are… not the kindest"

"Deliveries… I saw someone with a bell and a carrier satchel earlier. Could that be them?"

"Probably… Val can't speak so they carry a bell and their chalk board to communicate with people… We're here…" 

Leaves crunch beneath your feet as you stop before the gaping mouth of a cave. The dampness of the opening rolls off in waves, fanning your face like a dying breath. You catch the scent of artificial strawberries as you readjust Gumi in your arms.

"Well… no time like the present." Breathing in, you take your first step inside the cave. Your steps echo down the narrow passageway as you traverse deeper into the hollow den. Darkness envelops you, but it no longer holds control over you with company - sparkling stalagmites soon brightening the dim path. You chip off a piece of the jagged crystals as you pass by and stick your tongue against the flat surface. Rock candy- grape flavor to be exact. 

The tight walls of the cave open into a room fully illuminated by glowing rock candy. A pool of crimson awaits in the room's center - a deep chuckle bubbling from its murky depths.

"Well, well - you sure took your time, but since you've brought a new face I'll let it slide this time." 

Gumi shakes in your arms. Feeling your hold strength, he swallows his nerves as he speaks. "M, please give back my spine. We'd like to make a trade with you."

"Yes, yes - we've played this little game many times before with that sister of yours.. Allow me to slip into something more… comfortable." 

A hand shoots out from the pool, smacking down on the stone floor with a wet crack. Along with the hands forms an arm - weaving into shape by use of the syrupy fluid it bathes the. It drags itself from the vicious sea of red - pulling the tides along with it. A lower half of a head emerges from the pit, waters depleting as its torso and left arm take shape. You watch as the fluids snake around the stolen spine as the empty space of their chest closes to form mostly smooth skin. Their flesh drips and hangs at their fingertips, right shoulder hanging lower than the left as they crawl their way out and stand up right. Their head finally morphs to shape to the best of its capabilities with what little fluid it has left to work with - the entire left half of their face from eye to jaw missing. 

"That's… a little better. Excuse me for taking so much of your time, but I am almost ready."

There's a slight limp in their stride as they saunter  over behind a curtain of sharp rocks. The slip of fabric meets your ears as they hum to themselves - image reflected on the wall behind them. You see as they slide an arm through the sleeves of a shirt, buttoning it up to the second to last collar. They place a cap atop their head as they step back out to greet you -heeling clicking sharply against the hard floor. 

The figure wears what was once a white nursing coat and hat. Red hand prints dart the entire length of the garb down to where it hangs just above their knee. It rises to mid-thigh with every step they take. They pin a name tag to their chest as they stand before you - red blocking out every letter of the name that was once there besides one.

M. 

M sighs. "Ha… Much better. I do pray my appearance doesn't alarm you much, but considering you are carrying the head of this whiny little creature I'm sure my looks hardly bother you. Maybe..  interesting you perhaps, hm?"

You nervously chuckle. "About the trade…." 

They clap their hands together. "Ah yes- It is one I am quite excited for. It's been so long since I've had a nice cup of red wine. I'll be needing a sample to decide how much of you is worth trading the only useful part that boy in your arms has." 

"I… have something else in mind." Reaching into your bad, you pull out a freshly made jar of jam made the night before in preparation for a cake someone had ordered. You shake the jar lightly. "Do you take raspberry?

M folds their arms over their chest. "I guess we'll just have to see." They snatch the jar from you and twist off its lid, inserting their index finger inside. They spread the jam over their middle finger and thumb - eyeing it closely as they shove their fingers past their lips.

"Hm…."

They take another taste.

"Mmm…."

And another - this time dipping their entire palm into the jar and shoveling the jam into their mouth.

"This…  is good…I've never had anything this good in ages." M sucks the jam from each finger before pointing at you. "You! - Tell me you have more of this…. Heavenly concoction."

"I don't… but if you promise to give Gumi's spine back and never take it from him again then maybe I'll find a way to make more for you before I leave." 

"Deal!" M takes one of your hands and shakes it vigorously as confirmation of your contract. They reach into their chest, ripping out Gumi's spine and passing it off to you. Once their deed is done, they pour what remains of the jam down their throat - tapping the bottom of the jar and licking its walls to get every drop. The left half of their face fills out as they chew; straight locks of hair flowing from beneath their cap and stopping at their neck.

"I await our next encounter, my dear. As a token of my appreciation, you may come back even without your delicious jams as it does get rather lonely all the way out here by myself. I'd like to keep this container as a reminder of our first meeting. Until we see each other again, my sweet little friend. Thank you for the meal - and dessert.

M sweeps a finger across your cheek, catching the drying blood from a cut you must've gotten from one of your many falls. It's a surprise that it and the bruise on your leg is all the damage you've gotten so far. They place their thumb into their mouth with a small hum of satisfaction - winking as they turn away.

"Come by soon~"

You walk out of the cave with Gumi's spine and head in hand. "That was…interesting.."

"I'm just glad neither of us got hurt.. Let's get back to my body before… oh… oh no….. no no no no. 

Your emotions conflict between confusion and terror - an imperfect balance of the two. "What? What's wrong?"

"We have to get back - now."

Racing through the trees, the commotion sounds before you even see it.

"Come on, lemme read it - Lemme read it! Is it your journal? Your diary? I wanna see, I wanna see!"

Gumi's headless body narrowly avoids the swing of a sledgehammer wielded by a girl nearly two size smaller than the weapon she holds. As she throws it back over her shoulder, the hammer end of the tool is revealed to be a giant, lollipop the same glossy pink as her skin. She chases after Gumi's body as it attempts to crawl away - skipping after him as if playing a leisurely game of tag. As she makes another grab for your book - Gumi shouts.

"Lollie! Cut it out! The book isn't mine! It belongs to Sweets!" 

The girl snaps her head in your direction - stomping her feet excitedly in place before sprinting straight at you. 

"Gummy-worm!"

Lollie plucks her brother's head from your grasp, spinning in circles as she giggles. She hugs him close, pressing her hard cheek against his. "Where have you been?! I've been looking for you all over and here you are with some human. Don't think I won't tell Jaws about you hanging out with fleshies again. She's still pretty pissed about what the last one did to her, y'know."

Gumi groans, his body dragging itself across the ground to return your book to you. You take a knee as you take it from him - patting his arm as a token of your gratitude. "Please don't call me that in front of them.. They're nothing like the last one, or any of the humans that we've met recently." 

"I would find that hard to believe…. If they weren't holding your spine. If Bloody steals your parts one more time I'm gonna-" She exhales. "Well, you know what I'll do." She faces you. "HI. I'm Lollie, Gumi's sister, but I'm sure he's already told you all about me."

You nod. "He's told me a few things. You can call me Sweets."

"Sweets… Cute~ Normally I'd chase you all the way to the ocean, buuuut since you help my brother and you have a cute name I'll help you out as well. Let's get Wormy here back in one piece and we'll take you back to town."

With Lollie's aid, you reattach Gumi's head and arm. Standing on his feet, the boy sheepishly rubs at his arm. "Can… Can I hug you? It felt nice to be held by you…" 

"Of course." Pulling him in, the two of you share a brief hug before you're ripped away by Lollie who holds onto your hand tightly. Gumi could've gone another hour in your arms. He accepts his loss and takes your other hand as Lollie attempts to drag you both along.

"Come on, come on - we gotta get there before everyone turns in for the night!" 

Together, the twins guide you through the forest back to their home. Walking with them, you finally take pause to look at the world around you. With everything going on, you never stopped to notice it all. Cotton candy bushes. Lollipop flowers. The bark of the trees surrounding you reveal themselves to be made of some mass of woven candy strings. The soft earth beneath you becomes solid as you step down on hard, stone bricks. 

Gumi speaks up. "Do you think anyone is around? 

Bright lights and friendly chatter answers his questions for you all. A small crowd of people stand at the entrance of the town - conversing amongst each other as one, familiar face scouts out the brick road. They grab the bell from their belt, giving it a hard shake. 

As you approach, a lone figure departs from the pack. They wear a burgundy apron, longer than your own as it drapes at their ankles, and carry with them a wooden blood. Their skin and braided hair remind you of unbaked dough - large, brown spots sprinkled through their person. 

"Welcome home, you two. And to your new friend. My name is Chip, and it is a pleasure to meet you. You must be hungry after your journey. If we had more time to prepare, I would've made more, but I hope you enjoy stew."

As he holds out the bowl, the mail carrier creeps up from behind. A red heart marks the entirety of their face. They flip their board around for you to see as they cock their head to one side. 

"Welcome. :) (sorry for running off earlier.)" 

Lollie huffs. "Dang it, Val - you ruined our big surprise."

You smile faintly. "It's alright. My name is Sweets and while I appreciate the gesture, I think I've had enough candy for one day, Chip." 

Chip pushes the bowl into your hands. "Just take one bite - if you would be so kind."

Unable to refuse, you bring the bowl up to your lips - sampling the broth. Where you expect to be met with soda or some other sugary drink is instead the hearty taste of root vegetables and spices. Whatever your stance on vegetables was as a child meant nothing now. You open your mouth wider to allow the potatoes and carrots through, broth dripping from the corners of your lips as you greedily inhale the stew. You turn away to wipe your face as the filling meal settles in your stomach.

"Thank you… That was…."

"Real vegetables?"

"That… but also good. How do you-"

Chip laughs. "We have the means to grow foods fit for your kind here as well. Can't make a cake without milk and eggs, can you? We're able to grow normal fruits from the trees you've seen outside, but livestock are a little hard to come by. Had I known of your arrival I would've prepared one of the chickens or cows I tend to for you."

"This is more than enough. Thank you, again."

Wheels clack over the stone pathway as another town's person rushes forward - picking at your tattered and burned clothing as they skate around you. You catch glimpses of what look to be two donuts sprouting from the sides of their head like puffy, hair buns - decorated in blue icing and rainbow sprinkles. The large hole in their stomach peaks from beneath their crop top. They pull to a stop in front of you, hands placed to their hips as they look at all the stains on your apron. 

"Whoa! Your clothes are all burnt and torn up! Dirty too… I think I have some clothes in storage that'll fit you until I get the chance to patch them for you. My name is Kreme. Come by soon, kay?"

"Oh, um… okay!"

Kreme bows before zooming off down the empty streets presumably back to their place of work. The next to approach you wears fishnet leggings and a red bomber jacket. Wispy locks of bubble gum pink hair mask his eyes. His skin teeters on off white, but still holds that faint pink glow freshly chewed gum has. There are tiny bites taken out from his arms and hands. By the slight movement of his jaw something tells you those wounds may be self-inflicted. 

They bowl a bubble, popping it with their teeth. "Marina. Things can get pretty hectic around here. Ever need to relax, I could let you pass with a bite or two."

You raise your hands, doing your best to keep your smile from breaking. "I think I'm good."

"Your loss." Marina shrugs, spitting out the piece of himself and taking a fresh bite from his arm as he walks off.

"This is ridiculous..' 

The figure standing over by the welcoming sign finally speaks out. A sour candy belt wraps around their neck and head like a scarf. "LockJaw's never gonna allow another human to live here after what the last one did. We shouldn't even let them in the first place." 

Lollie blows a raspberry at them. "Malick, don't be such an ass. LockJaw may watch over us, but she isn't our boss." 

"Where is Lock by the way?"

Thud.

The ground quakes beneath you as a body crumples to it behind you. Cracks splinter the road around them - your teeth chattering from the heavy force of their landing. Spots of red, yellow, and blue pepper their paper white skin. Their right arm falls at your feet - detached from their body. A good portion of their torso is missing as well; both injuries revealing the layers of color overlapping like the rings of a chopped tree to make up the inner works of their body. You don't remember who's the first, but soon enough they all flock around them. Gumi shakes them roughly. 

"LockJaw? Lockjaw! What happened? C-can you hear us?" 

The body twitches - the fingers of their missing arm moving sporadically. 

Chip takes a knee beside him and gently pulls his hands off of her. "She'll be fine. We need to get her inside so I check her wounds. Sweets, I hate for this to be your first experience with us, but could you please grab LockJaw's arm and follow us? She is quite heavy compared to the rest of us, so we need all the hands we can get."

Nodding, you pick up LockJaw's arms as the others pick her up off the ground. Her face is a mostly smooth surface. No eyes, nose, or even lips - until her face is fully lifted off the ground. An eyes rolls sluggishly in its socket from the crater in the left side of her face - rainbow teeth clenched so tight you're afraid they might break as her eye falls on you.

"Human…. Leave." 

Chip throws her arm over his shoulder.  "Now isn't the time for that. Follow us, please." 

With Lollie holding her right side, Gumi and Marina supporting her from behind, and Malick behind them for extra support - you trail behind them as they all carry LockJaw into the nearest home which appears to be Chip's if the sign out front is anything to go by. They all lower her to the ground, stepping back as Chip inspects the brunt of her damages. Her single eye remains on you - unblinking. His lips press into a thin line as his expression darkens.

"I'm… afraid there isn't much I can do for her… Bandages won't fix injuries this severe… I'm sorry, Lock..."

"What?" Lollie shrieks. "There has to be something we can do!"

Her hand balls into a fist against your chest. You look around you, racking your brain for a solution. LockJaw… Jaws.. "Chip, do you have a stove, pot, water, and sugar? Maybe a rolling pin as well?" 

"Yes. Yes, I have all of those things. This way." Chip leads you into his kitchen. Grabbing a pot from the cupboard, he places it on the stuff as he searches around for the remainder of the items you asked him for. Once obtained, you pour water and sugar into the pot - stirring the mixture together before lighting the flame. Sweat drips from your face as it soon begins to bubble. You quickly remove it from the eye and hurry back to where LockJaw lays - pouring it slowly over the gaping hole in her chest. You rave between the kitchen and living room - preparing more pots of boiling sugar you pour over her. As the wound fills out and matches level with the rest of her skin, you take the rolling pin and roll it over the cooling final layer - evening it to make. You dip her right arm and its stump in the next batch - attaching the two and keeping her arm in place until you're sure the makeshift glue holds. You get up to make another to work on her face - a hand grabbing the tails of your apron as you rise. Even she seems surprised by her movements as she pulls her hand away - flexing her fingers.

"No… you've done enough… ugh…."

LockJaw climbs to her cheek, standing a head taller than you. Her eye still lingers on you as she's hugged from behind by Lollie.

"Jaws! You're okay! Didn't you say it's best for us to stay in numbers? Why do you get to go off on your own?!"

LockJaw pushes the smaller girl away. "Don't touch me."

The strength and mobility of her right arm still throws her off as Chip rejoins you. "LockJaw, I see you are well. I'm glad. Considering your recovery is most in part thanks to our new friend here, it wouldn't be a crime to let them stay for a little while, would it?"

LockJaw looks away. She cannot close her eye so it's the best she can do. "For now. The minute they cause trouble I want them gone." The jawbreaker woman squeezes past Malick and Gumi, walking out of the open front door.

"Woo-hoo!" Lollie throws her arms around her, beckoning her brother to join as she hugs who tightly who sheepishly complies. "Looks like you'll be staying with us for a while. You'll bunk with me and Gumi, right? We can go on all sorts of adventures together and get to know each other better-"

Chip cuts into the conversation. "While that does sound lovely, we will talk about their permanent board in the morning. There are some things I'd like to discuss with them before the night is over. I think it's best if everyone returns home for now."

"Aw…." Lollie sulks, yet abides to Chip's order. She drags Gumi along with her who calls out as he's pulled along-

"Bye, Sweets! It was really nice to meet you! You'll visit me…. Us! In the morning, r-right?"

You call back. "As soon as I wake up you'll be the first I see!"

Chip waits for everyone else to leave before he speaks again. He walks over to the front door and shuts it, turning the lock. "Sweets… I must confess that I lied before. I have fixed LockJaw and others to the best of my power in the past, but I know your aid was the only way she'd allow you to stay. Valentine told me about some of the things they saw in the book you possess. You are a baker, if I'm not mistaken?" 

"Yes… My shop was burned down by people I once called family. I fell through the floor and woke up here. This cookbook is all I have now."

Chip nods. "I am sorry for prying. It's just that even I am unable to do what you have done."

"What do you mean?"

"My fixes are… cosmetic at best. Sometimes, functions fail to return if a limb or other part is completely severed, or recovery takes a long time. You were able to repair LockJaw's arm and mobility to it in record time. I am unsure what this means, but either way you are welcome to stay with us until you are able to find your way home… If you ever want to return after what happened."

His final sentence hits you like a weighted brick. What will you do when you return home? It's not like you can go back to the town. Your survival will only prove their claims, but even then it's all you've ever known. You gaze outside the window- stars shining in the pale moonlight.

"Stars…." The word slips from your lips before you realize. Your eyes light up - hand placed against the glass. 

Chip laughs. “You've spent the day in a world made of candy, and yet it seems this amazes you more. Have you never seen them before?” 

“No…Not anywhere besides picture books at least. When I was little I used to collect little scraps of dough left over and shape them into stars to pass out to other kids around town… We made up a little game that if you ate one and wished just like you would on a real star all your dreams would come true… I think…. They’re why I’m here now.“ 

They would have loved this - and probably everything else in this world. That reminds you.. "Chip? There's someone I need to see. They had fluffy hair and short horns and they were wrapped in a blue blanket if I remember correctly. Do you know someone with that description?"

"I suppose you've met our little dreamer. Come with me."

Chip leads you outside and to a house with baby blue walls and white frosting decorating its borders. A blue star is printed on the front door. Chip knocks twice before it opens for you. You both enter and he guides you to a bedroom with marshmallow pillows littering the floor and a canopy bed at its heart. The figure from your dreams lays on their side - blankets covering only half their body and hands holding a white index card and blue pencil. You take the card from them and read it to yourself. It reads the name-

"Marlow." 

You pick up the covers and pull them over their shoulders, tucking them beneath their chin. "Marlow, thank you for waking me up earlier. I'd like to dream with you now, if that's alright with you."

Deep asleep, their lips curl upwards as their body moves to make room for you. You look towards Chip who wishes you goodnight with another nod - shutting the door behind him. You climb into bed with Marlow, an arm falling over your chest as you stare out the window - falling asleep beneath a blanket of stars for the first time in all your life. 

[historicity-was-already-taken]

re: October 7

Regardless of what idiots who think Hamas is a fun progressive resistance org have to say, the fact is that the October 7 massacre is going to be something Jews talk about, mourn, and commemorate for the next X,000 years. Long after there is a place called Israel, and a group called Hamas--and frankly, anything resembling the world as we know it today--there will be Jews taking a moment to commemorate the events of October 7, 2023.

And that's not even a FUCK THE HATERS AM YISRAEL CHAI statement. It's not a pro-Israel statement or an anti-Israel statement or a pro-Palestine statement or an anti-Palestine statement or a Whatever Simplistic Binaries We've Tried to Impose on This Situation statement. It's not even a political statement.

Speaking as a Jewish Historian, the Jews are a people with a long memory. We still commemorate revolts and massacres and attempted massacres of the Jewish people that went down over 2500 years ago like they happened yesterday. It's not an accident that, when the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising went down, the Zionist participants* immediately drew parallels between themselves and the crazy fucking patriarchal spouse and child-murdering zealots who held out against the Romans at Masada in 74 CE. Jews forget nothing, from the Babylonian Exile, to the Crusade-era massacres, to Jednabwe.

Jewish memory is hardly an impeccable source of historical knowledge (see Yerushalmi's Zakhor: Jewish History and Jewish Memory); but we forget nothing. We will remember October 7, and some day we’ll probably have a commemorative cookie about it. It will be the subject of books and dissertations, and studies of post-Holocaust and post-modern anti-Semitism. The Jews will insist on learning from this, about this, and re-interpreting this. Forever.

Civilizations, groups, nations; they can keep hating and trying to destroy the Jewish people; but 2000, 3000 years from now, it will be by the grace of Jewish ethnoreligious memory traditions that anyone will remember their names.

*it was staged and carried out by the Jewish Fighting Organization, which was a politically pluralistic org. Everyone from the anti-Zionist Bund to the centrist General Zionists belong to it. Except for the Revisionists lol

ETA: This post is not a secret rhetorical tool to express stealth support for Israeli war crimes in Gaza. Or any level of support for violence against Palestinians. Ever. I hate that I even have to add that; but like I said: anti-Semitism's gone pomo.

Also, my mental soundtrack while writing this post.

[bunniekittiee]

Bi-Han x Fem. Reader

A little sad tbh but like yk i try to give good endings. Also Bi-Han is mean asf but it is just due to their circumstances so beware you might want to punch him in the face. Also this is not proofread so any errors you see, just ignore.

The amount of tears shed for Bi-Han was outrageous. His actions could be absolutely deplorable. When they first married, she thought that there was a chance he would not be so cruel, but he had made it clear that their marriage was for power rather than true love. It hurt, it hurt her little heart and it made her cry during the lonely nights when her thoughts got to her. She had lots of thoughts of whether she was good enough for Bi-Han or if they would ever love each other. She had already loved him, but he did not give her the same energy back. It was futile.

“Wife,” Bi-Han said to her as he entered the room. “Join us for dinner, now.” There were so softness behind his words, but she bit back her increasing emotions. “Yes, Grandmaster.” She said back after she swallowed the built up saliva in her throat. He waited for her to get up and join him so they could walk to the dining room together. Kuai Liang and Tomas sat there together, waiting patiently as they greeted her with a smile.

Sitting down carefully, they started their usual traditions before eating their food. It was a little quiet with only Tomas and Kuai Liang speaking at first with Bi-Han chiming in when he wanted to. The brothers tried to include Bi-Han’s wife into their conversations, but she was quiet. They wondered if it was part of her personality or if it was because Bi-Han was sitting next to her. Watching her every movement.

That was, until Bi-Han and Tomas began to argue, well, more so Bi-Han arguing while Tomas sat there and Kuai Liang tried to play mediator. It made dinner extremely tense.

“You do not have Lin Kuei blood.” Bi-Han spat at Tomas who only gave him a look of ‘what’s new’. “So your words are pointless.”

“Bi-Han.” Kuai Liang said in a warning-like tone. “Do not ruin dinner with your bicker.”

“And you stay out of it, little brother. Do not stick your nose in something that does not concern you.” Bi-Han kept going. It was like he was here to just ruin their day.

“Bi-Han,” she said softly. “Let’s just enjoy dinner.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I do not expect anything less from you, incompetent girl.”

She felt her heart beat fast and her ears feel warm. Whether it was out of embarrassment or a flood of emotions coming, she looked down and tried to control her breathing. She did not want to cry in front of them. She could not show weakness.

“Bi-Han, maybe you should be a little nicer?” Tomas suggested which Kuai Liang shot him a look of ‘stop making it worse for yourself’.

The Grandmaster swiveled his head to meet Tomas’ gaze. “Silence you fool. Your words have no meaning, you are not one of us. You could hardly ever hold a marriage together, just like you could not hold your parents together.”

“Bi-Han!” Kuai Liang hissed.

She felt herself snap. “Grandmaster, you need to leave him alone!” Her voice cracked as she stood up and looked at Bi-Han. “You are cruel and cold. You treat your brothers so horribly. How can one even appreciate you when you are so disrespectful?” Tears brimmed her eyes and her vision blurred.

Tomas was taken aback. He had never been stood up for like this, especially with an outburst. Kuai Liang always tried to be peaceful, but she was different.

Bi-Han’s face scrunched in irritation and annoyance. “If you are going to be emotional, then leave us to our own devices. We can finish dinner without you weeping all over the food.”

Her eyebrows furrowed as more tears fell. “You are sick, Bi-Han. No wonder no one would marry you, you are barbaric.”

“Your insults do not affect me. Stop wasting your breath and leave.” He continued to dig his knife into her heart.

She turned away from the table, storming off and leaving the dining room to retreat to the bathroom in order to let herself cry. As she left, she heard Kuai’s sharp tone and Bi-Han’s rising voice begin to argue but her blood was pounding in her ears. Sobs wracked her body as she curled into a ball on the large, cool bathroom. Bi-Han’s words cut deeply, and as much as she thought she could be overreacting, nothing eased the pain in her heart.

How could one be so mean to his brother like that? Whether they were not related by blood or not, it did not matter. Tomas was one of them. He deserved the respect he never got, especially from the Grandmaster.

There was a quiet knock at the door and she sniffled, wiping her swollen eyes as she sat up. She heard a muffled voice. “It is Tomas, please open the door.”

A little reluctant, she opened the door as she continued to wipe away her tears. Tomas looked at her guiltily. “Please do not cry, it is not your fault.”

“He is mean to you, Tomas.” She said as she felt more tears coming. “You are his brother no matter what. You deserve much more respect.”

Tomas sighed. “It is okay, little sister. It is not your battle to fight. I hate to see you so emotional over me.”

She started to cry again, but this time Tomas hugged her. “It is okay, I am okay. I have learned to ignore Bi-Han’s words. They will not falter my attitude.”

This did not ease her heart. Just as Bi-Han’s words cut into her, his words to Tomas did just as much damage. “He is too cruel to you, Tomas. You are lovely and always so generous. You do not deserve it.” She whispered into his shoulder. Tomas heard her words and felt himself smile. No matter what she cared for him.

Embracing her for a few more minutes, Tomas offered to take her out of the home for a little bit to give herself space away from Bi-Han. Tomas knew he would not exactly apologize for his words or actions, especially when he felt very little for the woman he married. It was only for business reasons rather than true love. Tomas and Kuai saw the love she felt for Bi-Han, but they could not say the same for their brother.

Bi-Han never had a so-called filter. He spoke what he truthfully felt no matter how harsh it would sound coming out of his mouth. His brothers were adjusted to this, but his wife was not. He did not understand, or maybe he did not care, that she would be extremely wounded mentally with every rude remark he made.

This sadly happened a night when Bi-Han came to their living quarters in a horrific mood.

“How was your day, Bi-Han?” She asked him as they got ready for bed. He ignored her which made her feel unwelcome, but she tried not to let it affect her deeply. “I am sorry for asking.”

“Stop speaking for once with your incessant mumbling.” He said grimacing. “You do not need to fill the air with your annoying questions.”

The same feelings she had felt many times before begin to crawl their way through her body. “I apologize, Grandmaster.”

“Stop apologizing. Be better.” He replied. “Or is that too much to expect from you?” He never seemed to know when to stop.

“Do not say mean things because you are upset.” She retorted back. She was afraid of his reaction as she already started to feel the overwhelming emotions of weeping.

“It is the truth. You seem to be more annoying when you are nervous or trying to be nice.” He said with a frown. “I have never met anyone as annoying as you.”

She felt the tears begin to flow out of her eyes as she got up from their bed. She did not want to speak so he did not know that she was crying. “Are you going to cry like a baby? How old are you? Why are you like this? If I had known you would be this way, I would have not married you in the first place.”

Night gown flowing behind her, she quickly left their living quarters as she was once again crying her eyes out. His words ached. How much could she take before she could not anymore?

He did not follow her out. Whether it was because he was too prideful or he did not see anything wrong with what he said, he did not make an effort.

She made her way to Kuai Liang’s living quarters. He and Tomas were enjoying a quick cup a tea when they heard the weak knocks at Kuai’s door. They knew it was not Bi-Han.

“Little sister,” Kuai said warmly as he opened the door. He then noticed her shaking form and her tear stained face. “Are you okay?”

She cried more when he asked that question. That question seemed to make her feel so much worse. So vulnerable. Kuai Liang brought her inside of his room and closed the door. Tomas got to his feet fast as he approached her. “Oh no.”

It was hard to speak, but she did her best recalling her and Bi-Han’s argument. Kuai Liang looked concerned, eyebrows knitted as he shook his head when she told them what Bi-Han said to her. Tomas frowned and felt his heart squeeze at Bi-Han’s cruelty.

“I will never understand him.” Kuai said as he gently rubbed her back. “He has such an important person in his life, yet this is the way he acts.”

Tomas made her a small cup of tea and coaxed her to drink as she cuddled into a blanket he draped over her. Kuai Liang’s hands warmed against her skin. “He is not one to understand. His actions in general do not have an explanation.”

“It does not make it any more fair. He hurts the one person who loves him unconditionally. Many of us Lin Kuei do not have that opportunity.” Kuai replied. He sighed. “Bi-Han has always been rude as a child. We are used to it because we grew up together, but you, I do not expect you to be used to it or even deal with it in the first place.”

She chuckled with sadness and despair. “I have to deal with it. He does not understand. He chooses to not understand. It is he who I married, and as much as I love him, the hurt I feel consumes me everyday. He does not ease it. It hurts very much.”

They felt their own hearts splinter at her words. The fact that she had to go through this did not make them feel good. They wanted Bi-Han to be better for her. That is what she deserves.

“You need rest, a lot of it. You can sleep here with me, and Tomas may even join us.” Kuai said with a small smile as Tomas nodded.

It felt a little weird to be sleeping in the same room as the brothers because of how adjusted she was to sleeping with just Bi-Han or herself, but Kuai gave her the mattress while he and Tomas took the floor. She felt guilty and tried to argue with Kuai Liang, but he only shushed her and made her lay down to sleep.

When she woke up in the morning, Kuai Liang and Tomas were gone. She assumed it was for their duties. Sighing quietly, she got up from the mattress and made up the bed before she left. She had her own duties to attend to, but she needed to look presentable.

Leaving Kuai’s chambers, she first went to the bathroom to bathe and get ready. Her eyes were extremely swollen, and she could feel the sadness come back once more. How could Bi-Han be so mean? Even with his tough exterior, she could not comprehend why or how he could be so mean to her or his brothers. Soaking a wash cloth, she gently laid it over her eyes so the swelling could go down. She knew it would not fully help her broken blood vessels on her eyes and the swelling, but it would suffice.

Meeting Bi-Han in the morning was a little angering for the brothers. When they looked at him, all they could see was his wife crying into Tomas while Kuai rubbed her back. They could hear her cries and whimpers as her body shook with every harsh inhale she took. They knew Bi-Han was cruel, but to his wife? It bothered with Kuai Liang’s heart because of how he could not picture himself doing that to Harumi. But he and Bi-Han were very different in personality, so they were bound to be different in how they loved.

“What has your minds clouded?” Bi-Han asked sharply. He crossed his arms as he saw the dazed but fiery look in his brothers’ eyes.

Kuai shook his head. “It is nothing, brother.”

“If it’s about that weeping willow, I will personally throw you into the river myself.” Bi-Han muttered. Kuai’s eyes narrowed. “Forgive me, but elaborate.”

Bi-Han rolled his eyes. “My wife does not need to come to you for her problems. I can handle them myself.”

“Unless you are the one creating them for her.” Kuai replied. “You are rude to her, Bi-Han.”

“I only married her for the clan’s sake. I do not love such a feeble woman like her.” Bi-Han spat. “Her emotions control her. That is not like the Lin Kuei. She needs to grow tougher skin.”

Kuai felt his frustration burn. “You need to take it easy on her. She is not a man, brother. She is not adjusted like we are.”

“Who are you to stick up for my wife?” Bi-Han was now face-to-face with Kuai Liang. It was an intimidation tactic. “It is none of your concern.”

“I’m sticking up for her because she has difficulty doing so.” Kuai replied with hints of irritation. Tomas watched silently as his brothers fought. “You only have the opportunity to know the very few special people that come into your life, and when they are gone, they are gone for good. Appreciate what you have. One day, she will not be here any longer. And all she will remember you by is your cruelty.” Kuai turned away from Bi-Han and walked off with Tomas not too far behind him. Bi-Han watched in anger as he felt the tip of his ears pink with frustration and shame. To be told such a thing by his brother, someone lower than him, was embarrassing. Who was he to tell him how to be a husband? Kuai Liang was not married himself.

Bi-Han stayed away from his brothers and dove into his duties and plans, only interacting with Sektor and Cyrax. His mood was extremely dampened, and he continued to snap on Sektor and Cyrax who were beginning to become fed up with his behavior. They kept their mouths shut, but they exchanged irritated glances when Bi-Han was not looking. He was being eaten alive by Kuai Liang’s words and his actions. It was rather humiliating for a Grandmaster to be checked by his own brother.

It was dinner time and the men gathered around the table to eat. However, Bi-Han’s wife did not join them. Maybe it was from a mistake of before. Once they did their traditional business before eating a meal, Kuai Liang looked at Bi-Han. “I apologize for my outburst earlier, brother. I still stand by what I said, but I apologize for humiliating you.”

Bi-Han’s lips were pulled into a straight line. “Just eat, Kuai Liang.” This was the closest Kuai would get to a simple acceptance, but Bi-Han was still fuming. Dinner was tense and awkward, and the brothers wanted nothing more than to get away from Bi-Han’s presence.

Still in a bad mood, Bi-Han finished dinner and went to his living quarters where his wife lay reading a book. Clenching his jaw, he closed the door. “Stop going to my brothers for our problems. It is between a husband and his wife, not his brothers.” He said with a snarky tone.

She set her book down. “I had nowhere else to go, Bi-Han.”

“You could have stayed with me and dealt with your problems. When you married me, you married the clan and I. But that does not mean you need to include my brothers in your drama.” He fought back.

She felt her heart rate increase and her emotions choke her throat. “It is none of your business who I go to for moral support.”

“It is when it is my family and they cause issues for myself because of it.” He snapped. “Why don’t you think of your decisions, you stupid girl. It is not that difficult to grasp. Stop telling Kuai Liang and Tomas about our marital problems.”

“Then stop being so mean to me like you are now!” She replied angrily. “You always call me unnecessary names. You like to put me down. I am already low as it is since I married you!”

“It is not my fault that your father wanted to better his status of his clan.” His eyes narrowed and he approached closer to her. “It is not my fault that you have fallen in love with me. You knew from the start that our marriage was not based around love. It has always been based around business, and that is the way it will stay. I will never love you, and that is the truth.”

Sadness was not enough to describe it. Her bottom lip trembled as she felt herself break right in front of Bi-Han. She cried quietly at first, until she got a little bit louder. Her breathing was uneven, Bi-Han almost a little concerned if she was breathing well. His face fell, tilting his head as he watched her cry. Something in him made him feel bad. Worse than bad. Like he was a monster. She shied away from his touch, moving her body away as if he was poisonous to touch. He stiffened as her crying became worse. It was as if she was going to get sick.

“You need to let me take you to the bathroom.” Bi-Han said as he reached another hand out, yet she moved back from it. It was beginning to frustrate him, but there was nothing he could do. “Please let me do what I need to do.”

Her mind was frazzled as she felt all of her pain flow out of her. Bi-Han was eventually able to grab her wrist and help her up onto her feet, guiding her to the wash room. Bile was building up in her throat as she felt the weird sensation of throwing up. Bi-Han was able to put her on her knees and grab a bucket, putting it in front of her. “If you need to get sick, use this.”

Her breathing was choppy, her hands uncovering her face slightly and he was able to get a glimpse of her red face. He felt guilty. He knew that she was emotional, but to this extent? He was unknown to it. He rubbed circles on her back as she did eventually get sick. He held her hair back too and stayed quiet while she emptied her stomach. All of this because of what he had told her. He truly felt like a monster. He was now beginning to understand Kuai Liang’s outburst.

Once she started to quiet, only her hiccuping could be heard, he frowned. “I… I am truly sorry. I really am.”

She did not reply as she hardly looked at him. It still hurt. A ‘sorry’ was like a band aid on a wound that needed stitches. Looking at Bi-Han would make her break all over again.

He sighed as he took a washcloth and wiped her mouth from any residue, throwing it to the side and picking her up bridal style. “To bed.”

She could not argue with him, she felt exhausted and her head was thumping crazily. Her red-rimmed eyes were so swollen, it looked like she was squinting at everything. Her nose was still red along with her cheeks. Bi-Han laid her down and crawled into bed after her, reluctantly yet gently pushing a few hairs back off her forehead. “I am sorry. I did not know it was to this extent.”

Silence was all he got back. He understood that he did not deserve any words. He caused this, and it was his job to pick the pieces back up. Even if he did not love her, he could not let his wife deal with it by herself. He had already done it before. Hearing her breathing slow down, he held her close to his body. The guilt wracked him. He felt terrible for what he had done. Kuai’s words echoed in his head.

‘You only have the opportunity to know the very few special people that come into your life, and when they are gone, they are gone for good. Appreciate what you have’.

He thought of his mother. She was a special person in his life. She adored Bi-Han, she loved him, she took care of him. She was there for him when his father would push him to his limits and he would pass out from exhaustion. She was there when he received the ability to control ice. She was there for a lot until her death.

But after she had passed, he had no one else to do that for him. Until his wife came into his life. Whether it was for business or not, she still made sure to take care of him after he came home from fighting. Cleaning and stitching his wounds up. She took care of him similar to how his mother did.

He looked down at his wife’s sleeping form in his arms. He now felt ashamed. So ashamed he almost wanted to leave her to sleep by herself away from him, but he decided that he needed to be there. It was for her own good. He closed his eyes and lulled himself to sleep.

Bi-Han was gone the next morning when she awoke which was not a surprise to her. She rubbed her face gently, careful to not irritate her skin much more. Her crying had already done that enough.

She looked at the side table and was a little taken aback. There were flowers on the table. She assumed they were from Bi-Han. She carefully picked them up and inhaled their scent, sighing quietly to herself. She saw a note and picked that up as well. She read it carefully.

“Dear wife,

I have duties to attend to, but I apologize for my behavior towards you. An apology may not be enough for the harm I have caused. Truly, I am sorry. Kuai Liang has opened my eyes, and I witnessed first hand how my attitude and words affect you. I will be better for you. That is what you deserve. Please rest and relax, I will check in every so often.

Sincerely,

Bi-Han”

She felt her eyes water as she read the note over and over. It felt foreign to hear such vulnerability from Bi-Han, but she was somewhat glad to know that he realized how much his words can hurt. She hoped that he would stick to his word and truly improve. His words still stung, but she would take the time to heal and move on. That, she was sure of.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

no please bc just once I wanna make hobie nervous flustered.. like why can’t he can’t be intimated by me why I always gotta be intimidated by him 🙄🙄

TRULLLYY The opportunities are endless!! Let's talk about it!!!!!!!!!!!

Hobie Brown Loves Feminists and Defying the Patriarchy aka Hobie Brown and Writing write Non-Conventional Romantic Relationships in 'x-readers'

[this is an analysis where I analyze Hobie Brown, non-conventional relationships, and how feminism factors in to it all. Basically a critique/dive/rant into the narrow 'x-reader culture' in the Hobie Fandom

I touch on issues in Smut, labels, and how we can write 'Y/N's that challenge that status quo and fit Hobie better. I also break down how I personally use feminist themes to write a non-conventional relationship for Hobie.] [Also there's now a PART 2 HERE]

Despite the man from the 1970's - the era of bra-burning second-wave feminism - I don't ever think I've seen anyone talk about it, him, and how it influences him.

We all know Hobie isn't down with labels, but it seems like in X-Fem!Reader, the only two options out there are play-boy guitarist and traditional out-of-the-box boyfriend.

Hobie. The man he follows no social quo. Don't expect flowers from him.

Hobie diverges from the norm in nearly every way, and he does it purposefully and intentionally. And I think that'd extend to his romantic relationships too.

So why do we only see him in heteronormative, traditional gender-role based relationships?

Would Hobie be into this? And does the way we write him and his relationships in x-writers serve Hobie emotionally, allowing him to be a full character? (No, they don't.)

How can begin to acknowledge that, just like Hobie cares about race, and class, and housing and queer rights - he'd care about feminism too.

And how would that influence him in romance? How can we start writing healthier x-reader's?

We have enough insecure, blushing 'Y/N's being woo'd by [insert tumblr sexy man]'. Hobie can have so much more - in the words of Beyonce "Where the ladies up in here who like to talk back?!"

Hobie Brown, Romance, and Gender Roles

Why can I be the one calling him 'love', and 'darling', and 'sweetheart'?

Where's the fic where I'm the one comforting and taking care of him when he's sick/down?

Why can't Hobie be the one asked to be held?

There's something lacking here!!!!!!!

I honestly think Hobie would be into it, and find it very attractive - having a feminine partner who defies gender roles in their relationship purposefully and proudly.

Hobie loves subverting expectations and challenging society. So, and seeing many people unthinkingly assume he'd have a completely normal, routine heterosexual relationship without question -- uhhh I don't like that!!!

Like, Hobie is very clearly attractive. He's like 6'5", a guitarist, and punk. Let's be real, people of any gender are gonna be flirting with him, whether he's into it or not. He without a doubt gets flirted at all the time.

I think he'd love someone who cuts the bullshit and is like "You're really cute. I've got the biggest crush on you."

Not in a pushy way, but a relaxed way.

But I hardly ever see the x-reader advances being initiated by the reader. Why? It can be really nice to take the confidence to ask someone out and they say yes.

In fact, a lot of x-readers are written demure, passive, and down-right unhealthy in their ability to defend themselves and stand alone. So many are based off the x reader needing Hobie for some reason, whether it be confidence, or protection, or for him to teach them something.

Never Hobie needing the reader for something. Never Hobie being the one to express emotion and need comfort.

Which is funny, because Hobie can show emotions like anger, which he does in the comics. That's NEVER brought up in fics. In no fic do we have the reader witness Hobie hitting someone with a guitar or kicking them in the face. Which Hobie does do.

No, that's too violent for the romanticized fandom of Hobie. He has to be the good boyfriend to the shy girlfriend.

And I feel like there's a reason many of these x-readers are written this way - is heteronormativity and a dash of misogyny-flavored sexism involved??? maybe.

Especially with x fem readers, feminine people are always expected to be passive and submissive. Women in the real world are expected to mute their advances and 'be coy' for the sake of sexist 'respectability'.

We're taught that 'giving them the eyes' is (somehow??) an 'advance'. Or that you have to wait to be asked out or else you're 'too forward'.

[Insert Barbie Movie Monologue here]

Personally, I think Hobie would be SO refreshed by a girl who comes up to him and is like "Hey, are you busy on Friday? Do you wanna meet me then? I wanna go on a date with you."

Because, realistically 95% of the people in the Hobie fandom - including me - would probably be too nervous to even speak a sentence to Hobie.

So for someone to approach him directly, state their intentions, and be so open to potential rejection, that's impressive - I think he'd LOVE that shit!!!

I think it's a nice juxtaposition to have him with someone who diverges from the 'demure ideal of a girlfriend'.

A girl who walks around like Jessica Drew. Walks in the room like "My man is SEXY AF and he about to walk in so LOOK. BE JEALOUS."

I imagine so many people around him try to act like they DON'T like Hobie when they clearly do - and he can tell. So to have someone who isn't hiding it is a kind of candidness that differs from it all.

So often are women forced into the passive role of waiting to be 'chosen'. Fuck that, you want him, go get him.

Hobie, Romance, and Labels

I also think Hobie would REALLY like a partner who knows what they want.

I always see people be like 'Hobie doesn't like labels!! He wants to keep it casual!' or 'Nooo he was kidding about the labels thing - he'd love a committe-'

WHO SAYS HE'D BE THE ONE DEFINING THE SITUATION????????? WHO SAID HE GETS THE LAST SAY???!!!!!

I feel like Hobie would go fucking NUTS for a girl who is straight up like "yeah I'm just trying to fuck. Are you okay with that?" or "I like what we've got going on. I'm not looking for anything serious, but let's keep going."

Or a partner that is very clear about their labels. A person who's like "I like you but if you're not trying to be exclusive I'm gonna get a move on." Because he's not gonna have you out here looking DUMB, people better know you're in the mfing picture.

That's some grown ass shit! It shows she knows what she wants and that she's not wavering on it, even for him. He's with it. I don't think Hobie would be down to be like "I'm ur boyfriend now" OR "I'm ONLY down for fucking lol srry'.

She gets a say too. And she should be clear on what she wants.

If she's the one to take the initiative and name the game - that's great for him. He's down for whatever, what is it that YOU wanna do??

Hobie, Romance, and Intimacy (like for the grown folks 18+) __________________________________

🔞

In a LOT of fic and especially SMUT, it's always Hobie making the advances, or at least initiating them. In society, women are taught that's how is, that being sexually 'aggressive' and proactive - not just SUGGESTIVE - is inappropriate.

Wait till Hobie slaps your ass, then the smut could start. Wait till Hobie kisses you, then there's romance.

Nah, I'm the one smacking his ass. I'm the one pulling his belt loop saying Come 'ere. What if I'm the one who wants to pull him down for a first kiss, huh??? I gotta wait??

Even in dialogue-

In a lot of fics Hobie can talk as raunchy as ever, but the woman can't say 'pussy'? Hobie can say three sentences straight about how my coochie feel but the reader only gets to moan submissive requests back??

Can the dirty talk be two-sided? Because women should be allowed to be vocal in their pleasure.

Hobie can tell you he wants you to suck his dick, but when's the reader gonna say "Come eat this pussy like you mean it." HM??????

In fics the reader can only be suggestive - in order to bait him into initiating, like sending him a suggestive picture or throwing a bra on stage. But it's hardly ever the other way around. With the reader being the one to say 'Enough of the teasing, we fucking NEOW.'

Because in our society, a guy slipping a girl's shirt off to get the scene going is hot. But a woman going for a guys belt before he begins to undress her - nooo, that's too forward.

Maybe Hobie wants to feel like the sexy, desired, sought after one.

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Hobie, Romance and Feminism

Let it be known: Hobie loves people who are socially educated!!!!

If you can look at him and explain what anarchism actually is - like in a politcal theory sense - I think he'd be impressed, because you're seeing through the 'pseudo-rockstar' persona he puts on.

Most if not all of his actions are choice are driven by political action, so having a partner educated in things like anarchy or communism just makes sense with him. Hobie cares about stuff like that, and actually goes out of his way to study and live in line with those ideals.

That includes feminism!!!

I think Hobie would love a girlfriend who is invested in feminism, cares about it, and thinks about it in her decision making.

A woman that is educated about her oppression and how to combat it, and purposefully goes against the strict stereotype labeled on women - especially feminine women - as an act of protest.

A girl who can and will defend herself, go off on, or put a sexist pig in their place. You can't tell me he wouldn't be into that.

Social movements of the oppressed are super important to Hobie, and I think feminism is the same, but I never see it mentioned.

I definitely think that Hobie would have a clear understanding of his privilege as a man and how that effects relationships.

I can see him being like "I'd never propose." Not because he hates labels, but because he acknowledges that for centuries marriage was used as a financial and social transaction to oppress and control women and their bodies, and he doesn't want to be involved in that.

Hit him with that "Same - the gold and diamond rings are trash anyway. Both materials being mined and pillaged in African nations for centuries at the expense of the indigenous populations really puts me off it."

He'd wanna somehow find a way to marry you without marrying you you know what i mean

Hobie loves feminism and feminists. Give him a 70's bra-burning feminism so help me god. He was alive for Roe v. Wade passing (1973), he KNOWS about feminism and probably knows many outspoken feminists.

Hobie, Romance and Individuality

You know what I don't like?

Headcanons or fics that be like "You and Hobie NEVER disagree or argue. Never ever, you always talk it out."

Like...Bullshit. I'm sorry but I don't think it's very realistic.

Hobie is a very opinionated too. He's very outspoken and when it comes to topics, and he usually knows exactly where he stands. I think, without a doubt he'd care what his partner thinks too.

Asking them about a record that's playing, or what they think of a movie they saw in the past, or a new political issue going on. He'd absolutely ask, because he cares. He's interested.

If if ya'll are never disagreeing that means:

Either you agree with his opinion all the time without fail or exception OR

You're biting your tongue around him

I don't think one is very realistic in terms of things. You can't like every song your boyfriend likes. You can't like every movie he shows you, or agree on EVERY political issue. That's not how people are.

And for two - if you're biting your tongue around him, he'll notice.

Yes, Hobie is a very emotionally intelligent person and extremely compassionate. But he's also very strong in his morals, thoughts, and beliefs. He doesn't budge.

If you're biting your tongue, I'd imagine he'd be like "You wanna say something." or "Whatever you're thinking just say it." cause he can see it in your face.

He's not trying to put you on the spot, he just wants to know what you're thinking.

When you explain what you're thinking, he's probably gonna wanna hear why, and respond, etc etc.

Hobie is a very individualistic person, and I think he'd be drawn to someone who is as well. Someone who is solid in their opinions and personhood enough to express them.

It leads to interesting conversation and knowing each other deeper -It's a form of intimacy.

If you watch a film with him and don't like it, he's gonna ask why. Did you not like the theme? Was the dialogue bad? What part did you think sucked the most, he thought x, y, z. What do you think about the part he disliked, did you notice a,b,c?

I feel like Hobie would want to know his partner deeply, and he'd care and love the things that make them different from each other.

Including differing opinions.

Discussions and debates aren't bad. Discussing something and getting heated defending your point can be really fun and stimulating, if it's with someone you care about and the two parties are mature and not assholes.

Tell him why you think he's wrong about something - he wants an excuse to talk more about his opinion. INTELLECTUALLY CHALLENGE HIM DONT JUST AGREE.

Along with being very individualistic, Hobie is very independent. He refused to rely on the Society for their watches - he made his own. So I think the next important thing to him is:

Hobie, Romance and Independence

I like the idea of Hobie having a partner that has their own place and is committed to that, and their space.

Or a partner that emotionally supports him!!

95% of the time, he's the one asking what's wrong, or holding reader, or comforting them.

Can we get hectic bf and organized girlfriend energy?? A gf where he says plans during missions and she's like "What are you thinking? You're gonna get us killed."

A gf that soothes HIM when he gets angry - cause comic Hobie GETS angry, especially after a fight.

Give me ONE, ONE fic where he's drunk coming from a pub and READER has to deal with drunk Hobie and put him to bed.

Hobie is ALWAYS expected to take care of himself, and the people around him. He takes pride in this and he's good at it. But why should he have to do it all the time?

_____________________________________________

In general,

Hobie is a confident person. He knows what he wants, and how to handle himself, and how to approach people and get respect just by being himself. He's assured, and outspoken, and VERY independent. He does what he wants, when he wants and lets you know when it happens

I think pairing him with a confident, assured, outspoked, independent person is only natural. I think him having a relationship with a personality like his would be a ROCK SOLID one.

There's be no fics like 'Groupies were bullying you' because his she would be like "Sis, if I swing on you he isn't gonna hold me back so be careful."

I want a reader that when they do that trope of 'A girl was flirting in front of him making you insecure and uncomfortable' - The reader squashes it right there. Like "Girl, I know you see me standing here. You know we're together. Cut the cute shit!!"

I'm tired of fics taking me for an insecure, submissive, demure, sexually innocent, wimp of a babydoll girlfriend that needs to be babied at every turn. There's nothing wrong with being shy and demure, but when it's all you're offering it's not gonna cut it.

Especially not for Hobie Brown.

Let the tall, dark, actively oppressed black man be the one to vent, or be held, or romanced, and spoken sweetly too. There's so many comfort fics, but not many of them consider Hobie's own trauma - and how a relationship could include that.

Hobie Brown deserves more.

_______________________________________________

If you wanna know how I use this to write a non-conventional relationship for Hobie, that's below this break.

Okay so I'mma leave it here but if you read this far, thank you!!!! I be SO pissed when fics be talking me (Y/N) as a punk (in the wimpy sense not the Hobie sense). Like...nah I wouldve said something in a lot of situations. Irk my last nerve. Like the one where the girl PINCHES you??? Like?? Nah I we would've been fighting, I'm sorry this is unrealistic

Alsooo the section below is about my Spidersona Disco-Spider and how I encorporated all of this into her creation- because I wanted to write a sona who subtly defied gender roles while still being feminine. So if you wanna read there thank you so much, and if not, thanks for reading this far! He's a pic of Hobie in thanks!

[If you wanna check out Part 2 for direct examples, how to write NCRs, and a more in depth look into Disco and Hobie - check it out here]

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DiscoSpider Diane and The Great Groupie Act [How I use all of this to a write a feminist Spidersona and a non-conventional relationship]

Diane is a HUGE Hobie Groupie - and that's kinda of her main thing.

She runs the Hobie Brown Fanclub on campus, attends all his shows, and wears his guitar pick. She's into him and she's not afraid to show it.

I wanted to write Diane as a purposeful groupie, one who is fine with the title, and even leans into it. Because a lot of the time - and in a lot of fics including guitarists - 'groupie' is seen as a negative thing.

Like K-pop stans, being a 'groupie' - and openly expressing your romantic interest in a hot guy is seen as desperation.

But I wanted to write her as one in spite of this. To swap 'desperation' for unwavering boldness. A girl with the motto 'Closed mouths don't get fed'.

And much like Hobie uses the 'typical punk' label to disarm others, I wanted Diane to mirror that - in the opposite direction.

Diane is a self-proclaimed groupie. And because of that, many (mainly misogynists) assume that she can't think for herself - or at all. And Diane can use that to her advantage.

If Miguel and Jess really believe she only cares about conversations involving Hobie, then they'll talk like she isn't there. And she can listen. If it looks like she's hanging all over him, no one realizes if she's slipping him information.

And it also helps in their relationship.

They both enjoy their privacy.

HQ prohibits relationships between Spidey-people. It's an anomaly waiting to happen - and they make sure to keep a close eye out for it. Plus with Jess breathing down her neck, it's much easier for Diane and Hobie to just keep it underwraps.

In comes the Groupie persona.

No one actually expects the groupie to get the guy. She's desperate, and he's the player guitarist. Plus, if they were dating she couldn't be a 'groupie' right? They wouldn't make sense, would it?

They let people make their own assumptions. By calling herself a groupie, suddenly people think there's no possible way there's something going on, and they don't look closer.

This also allows them the freedom of no labels. Are they boyfriend and girlfriend? Nah she's his groupie. Quit asking questions.

All of this allows me to write Disco in a way that connects back to everything in this post.

By calling herself a 'Groupie' suddenly Diane can subvert expectations of affection, avoid the pressures of labels, and control her image and the amount of information she lets on to people

That in turn helps me write their relationship in a nonconventional way - a way that challenges misogyny around affection and reclaims a sexist fan trope for something more empowering.

Sure, the concept seems silly at first. The ditsy, bubbly, party girl on campus, but I wanted there to be a reason and drive behind it.

Disco-Spider Diane is exactly who she wants to be, an unapologetic, outspoken disco-girl. One that's highly educated and knows her shit.

And also a huge groupie.

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

If you've read this far, thank you so much. It genuinely means a lot to me! This is reaaaaaallly long.

[Part 2 here]

Now how about you take this photo of Hobie and we both pretend like me writing this is normal well-adjusted behavior okay? okay

Bye.

[chernabogs]

I can see an entire bouquet matching Malleus 😭 Calla lily, Ivy, Red Salvia, NATSURIUM and White carnation with pecks of Daffodil and Fern

Don't feel obligated to use all of them! Chose whichever you find most suitable! I just could stop with one alone, the more prompts i read the more i had this idea for a story in my head

I think you and I had the same idea cooking LMAOOO I hope I did this well! <3 Thank you for the request!!

Sin Eater

Inc: Malleus, Reader, a sin eater, and one advisor WC: 3.4k Warnings: Heavy discussion of grief and coping with loss Flowers: Calla Lily (something at first sight), Ivy (we’ve always been friends but we were never just friends), Natsurium (I refuse to bury you), Daffodil (a god bows before a mortal), Fern (In a world of magic, the greatest miracle was you... subtly implied) Summary: A quiet conversation in a hall between a prince, a starving idol, and a body.

Their arrival is marked with the sombre chiming of Dragon City’s bells, which is the only reason Malleus knows they’re approaching Black Scale. The window of the bedroom you shared is wide open, letting in both the breeze and the song as he stands so still that one may consider him to be a mere statue on display. He feels equivalent to one; his breath is shallow, his body cold, and his expression far away enough that he hardly registers the carriage approaching. 

“Your highness?” A faint voice speaks by his right side. Malleus’ finger twitches at the sound as his emerald gaze slowly slides from the streets below to the advisor who is now anxiously twisting her sleeve. He can hardly remember her name—advisors come and go so often that they’ve become a blur in his mind—but he’s taken to calling her Scops due to the owlish stare that she always seems to wear around him. “The sin eater is here.”

Malleus stares for a moment before he looks back down to the courtyard. The carriage door is open, and a figure is now standing on the stone, speaking with one of the guards. The discussion is brief, ending with the guard walking to the doors and the figure looking upwards at the palace walls. A golden mask conceals their face, capturing the rays of the sun which battle through Briar Valley’s ever-present clouds, and they wear a simple black funeral suit. 

“I see that.” He replies curtly, his voice ungiving on how he’s really feeling. “They arrived quite quickly, didn’t they?” 

“I suppose they have,” Scops steps a bit closer to the window to look down at the sin eater. “Strange, really. It isn’t like their profession is a competitive market anymore.” 

Sin eaters used to be far more prominent in Briar Valley back when it was still Briar Nation, and old traditions were held to a greater esteem. Unfortunately, the changing of times meant the dismantling of old organizations and beliefs, rendering the sin eaters as nothing more than a token piece in a funeral party. Perhaps once they were esteemed in a religious fashion—but not anymore. Now they will sit for anyone, so long as they get their meal. 

You had always admired the old traditions, though. He remembers your avid interest in his family’s history, and the many nights you’d waste away in the library, reading tome after tome in delight. You had been the spearhead of a new age for old beliefs—revamping Briar Valley’s tourism through the demonstration of habits long dead—and you had made a difference. That’s why there is a sin eater here today. 

Malleus dislikes their presence, however. Them being here means that what he’s going through is not just a simple dream. He exhales through clenched teeth and forces his shoulders to relax as he turns on his heel and nods. 

“Regardless, it’s best not to keep guests waiting.”

_____________________________________________________________

The hallowed hall in which you lay is silent, even with the presence of the sin eater looming over your shrouded form. How they managed to move quickly enough that they arrived before Malleus did is something he decides not to question—nor does he question how they knew of the hall to begin with. Their profession is one that draws the most peculiar of magic users into it. Like a bloodhound, they caught your scent and followed it to the room. He’s surprised the guards who have been standing watch over you for a day now permitted them to enter. 

Malleus enters alone and waves for the room to be sealed. He notes the hesitation in his guard’s body language before they oblige, stepping away to pull the great wooden doors shut with a resounding boom that stirs a pair of birds residing in the rafters. Their wings flutter in distress as Malleus spares them a passing glance before returning his focus on the figure ahead. The sin eater has turned to look back at him, and he sees upon closer inspection that the mask they wear lacks a mouth. They incline their head in greeting before speaking in a surprisingly clear tone considering their facial obstruction. 

“Your grace. Forgive me for the intrusion before your arrival; I merely wished to prepare in advance.” Their voice is soft and low as they touch a hand to the place above their heart. Malleus hardly reacts to their words as he brushes past them to where you lay, body enshrouded in a white sheet with a torc affixed upon your neck. His fingers brush along its form; forged of mystium and gifted to you as a token by him. It was the closest he could get to a marriage declaration in the eyes of the Senate. 

“It’s hardly my place to prevent a sin eater from completing their role.” He replies languidly as his fingers skim off of the torc to rest on your chest. Stiff, still, and cold against his fingers. “I just wish you had not come to begin with.” 

He doesn’t wish to have you buried quite yet, but he knows he’s already pushing the limit of how long he can keep you. He kneels by the platform that holds your form as his fingers brush along the shroud that hides you. If he could, he would drag you off of this macabre display and back into the rooms you shared for so many decades together, to wrap you in his arms and pretend this isn’t happening. 

But that was foul. Utterly, utterly foul. Your body would putrefy and decay while he clung to a false hope of resurrection. 

No, the sin eater is here now. He just doesn’t want you out of sight quite yet. 

“Many do not welcome me, but I have never left without gratitude.” The sin eater replies softly. Like a god before a mortal, Malleus’ ethereal features are painted into a stony expression, his gaze still distant. He hardly feels a part of this world right now as he hums quietly in turn. 

“Perhaps.” He muses as his fingers toy with the shroud before he turns to look at the sin eater. Like his own face, their mask is a stony expression, their eyes concealed from his seeking gaze. If they were to not move and speak then they could easily be dismissed as one of the many statues adorning the hall. “How shall we proceed?” 

“Do you feel ready to proceed?” They posit as they gesture to your form. 

Malleus rises back to his feet but doesn’t remove his hand from your body. The pungent scent of flowers—used to disguise the sweetness of decay—wafts up with the abruptness of his motion. “The opportunity to refuse has long passed. I am aware that there is a feast to be had—that, they regaled me of this back when they were still alive.”

You had been enamoured by the concept of Briar Valley funerary rites throughout your time in life. He remembers thinking it to be grim when you would speak of them, and rather anxiety-inducing when you began to plan for your own. He always knew that your status as a human meant that you would join the stars long before he did—he had simply not wanted to think about it, though. In the end, your efforts to establish your own postmortem care had saved him a great deal of distress these past few days.

Your ability to think far ahead had been one of the many aspects he had loved about you. 

“Indeed, and I am delighted to see one is set for me.” The sin eater drifts off of the steps of the platform towards the far side of the room, where a table lay with an array of foods on it. Wine, dates, meats, and a variety of other luxuries decorate pristine plates and spotless cutlery. He had spared no expenses in the lavishness of your memoriam. “Sometimes I have served people who are still cooking the final meal by the time I arrive. But then again, I would expect a prince to have ample amounts of resources available to get things done.” 

“I give nothing but the finest when it comes to them.” Malleus retorts sharply as he goes to sit in the chair on the other side of the table. Before he can properly settle, the sin eater raises a hand and shakes their head. 

“Turn the chair around if you please. You are not meant to see my face when I eat—that honour is for the deceased, and the deceased alone.” 

Malleus pauses, his hand resting on the back of the chair before he obliges and twists it around to face the wall. He then sits down and crosses his legs patiently. Despite the fact that he knows the sin eater to be unarmed, he still feels a prickle of paranoia creep up his spine. Old habits die hard when one has been hunted for so many years. 

Eventually he hears the sound of the sin eater sitting down in their respective seat, followed by something heavy hitting the table. The sin eater clears their throat, and the sound is far clearer now than before. Their mask has been removed—which means the rite has officially begun. Malleus inhales and readies himself for what he recalls the next few steps to be. 

“Tell me about them. Call them to the table where we feast.” There’s a brief pause then before a fork scrapes against porcelain plates. Malleus’ eyes flutter shut as he gives a low sigh. 

“Mira calirh.” The affectionate term flows from his tongue easily as he touches upon memories long passed. How can he summarize you in a simple conversation? You had been a person of many complexities—of devotion, of will, of love as boundless as the sea. To boil all that you were down into a mere few lines felt sacrilegious in his heart. 

“Tell me of your first.” The sin eater prompts, and so he does. 

“I met them outside of their dorm. I thought the place was abandoned, but suddenly they were there before me, sleep-dazed and curious. I remember thinking how calm they were when facing me directly—only to find out they hadn’t a single clue about who I was.” Malleus’ lips curl into a faint grin as he pictures the moment so clearly. He can see you in your youth, eyes glassy with sleep and hair slightly dishevelled. You had not registered in his mind as someone of importance quite yet. 

Oh, how such a thing would change. 

“Tell me more.” The sin eater urges. He can hear the wine glass lifting and being set back down on the table. Malleus’ hands clasp tight as he feels his fingers begin to grow numb. In his peripheral vision, he thinks he sees movement from the pedestal. He resists the impulse to look its way as he considers his next words. 

“It made me feel… alive. For a moment. They would accompany me, speak with me. It was shortly after my overblot that I began to consider them as a friend—although I suspect we never were just that. It was two summers later that I began to consider them something more.” 

Malleus pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts. He remembers that summer—it had been warmer than usual in the Valley, and you had come to visit for a week. He recalls the smell of sunscreen and the sight of you with your hat on your head as you sat in a field of eternal green. The land was lush and abundant with life, but it had been you that had drawn his gaze the strongest. 

The sin eater pushes a plate away before grabbing another. It drags across the wooden table with a bitter screech. “Is that so?” 

“Quite. They stayed with me for a week, and I wished every night that the next day would never come, only so that I could hold onto them for just a bit longer. I kissed their cheek before they departed through the mirror back to NRC—I wanted to kiss their lips, but I panicked and missed.” He can’t help but laugh at that. His palms had been sweating and his mind had been in a panic when he clumsily pressed his lips to your cheek in a kiss of farewell. “Foolish I was. Fortunately, it didn’t turn them away from me. The next time we met, they made sure my aim was true.” 

“Young love has a habit of sending our hearts aflutter, no?” The sin eater muses as more scraping sounds out. “Tell me when you loved them.”

When? Malleus’ brow furrows as he considers the question. When did he not, really? 

“Every day. Every hour. Every minute. I think once they became mine there was not a moment I did not love them, even when we had our disagreements, or the obligations of my role drew me abroad. I loved them in the day, I loved them in the night. And in the sparse moments between, I loved them even more.” Malleus feels his jaw clench slightly. “We could not be married, and so I made sure they knew my devotion.”

“You could not marry because they were not fae. I remember that being a point of contention in the papers.” 

The sin eater must be a fae themself, then, if they can recall the tabloids from that time so easily while looking as young as they appeared. Malleus bristles at their comment. 

“Yes, that was a point of great contention, and one I had to swallow despite working to change the laws. Even my grandmother agreed that such outdated beliefs had no business in and amongst our courtiers.” 

He had fought viciously against nobility for the opportunity to keep you by his side. Eventually it had ended in a standoff, with the courtiers begrudgingly agreeing to permit you to live in Black Scale, so long as you never officially became his consort. Your body hasn’t even been cold for a day, and he’s already heard rumours from Scops that the Senate is hunting for a suitable replacement. 

The knowledge tastes like bitter fruit on his tongue.

He thinks he sees the flutter of white fabric moving at the pedestal again. His brow furrows as he rationalizes it away as a trick of the odd lighting in the hall. Still, the cold breeze that follows makes him shift in his seat uncomfortably.

“Tell me how you loved them.” The sin eater diverts his thoughts and the conversation once more as something heavy scrapes across the table. It may be the plate of quail he saw—or the pig's head. “What did you do to always let them know?” 

“Everything. Anything they wanted I would give to them. If they had asked me to move the mountains we rest on, I would do so. If they asked me to pluck the sun from the sky and fasten it into a brooch for them, I would make sure it was held by the finest of metals. If they wished for the rains to fall and the earth to turn green, then I would drag the clouds from across the world to where they stood.” Malleus shivers again as he feels an ache in his chest. It’s been there for days now. “Magic bends to my whims, but I bent to theirs.” 

“But you couldn’t give them time.” There’s a licking sound and a low hum of satisfaction from the sin eater. “Time will eat everyone in the end—much like how I feast on their memories now. You could give them every precious gem and flower in the world, but you could not give them a second more than what they were meant to have.” 

“If I could have, then I would.” He snarls back, his head turning slightly to glare at the blurred image of the sin eater. “I would have stolen the seconds from anything and everything and given it to them instead. The gods know they would have benefited from it. They had plans, ideas, to improve this nation and now? Now they’re already beginning to decay.” 

“As things do.” The sin eater tosses a bone onto a plate as Malleus looks back to the wall. He feels something cold brush against him again, and then the scraping of a chair to his right. His shoulders tense at the sound and he wonders if the sin eater has changed places. 

Until they speak. 

“How very kind of you to finally join us.” 

The comment is simple and one that draws confusion in Malleus until it finally clicks in place and his entire body plunges into freezing water. The world spins to a stop as he hears a whispering voice by his ear, its words indiscernible. Malleus’ eyes widen and dilate as any words he had to say stutter to a stop from his lips, drawn shut by a cold touch brushing up his arm—much like how his touch had brushed along yours moments ago. 

“One last bite, then.” The sin eater interjects once more as they push another plate away. “Tell me how you will keep them alive. The body may be rotting, but the soul does still linger. Within this hall, within this palace, within the memories stored in your mind. How will you honour that?” 

The words become clearer now. Your voice is soft as your breath brushes against the skin behind his ear, making him shiver as a small, painful sound escapes him. The scent of you lingers just beneath that of the roses your body was bathed in before being wrapped for your cremation. He can feel the brush of the shroud against him as phantom fingers touch his back. 

He wants to turn to see you as he once knew—but something tells him that doing so will merely send you away faster. 

“Their legacy.” He offers slowly, eyes fluttering shut again as he loses himself in your touch. “Their memory carries on through years upon generations of work. They brought life back to Briar Valley’s beliefs. They reshaped this old, rotting home—reshaped me—into something better. I may have portraits of them, and statues, and items that they loved dear stored in my rooms—but I think the only thing they would wish for me to do is continue the work they had started.” 

A sensation floods him then like that brought on by a lover’s kiss. It curls around his wounded heart and floods itself through his veins, warming his body in a way that it hasn’t been able to for days. Another pained sound leaves him, but it is not drawn out because of any agony. 

Then, as quickly as it arrived, the sensations are all gone. Your scent disappears, your touch disappears, and Malleus Draconia is left once more to sit in a stiff wooden chair in a large, desolate hall, with a body and a sin eater as his company. He wants to grasp for you and hold you in place like he did so dearly with your body—but the voice screams at him again that this is not the way it plays out. 

The sin eater sets the cutlery down before drawing their mask over their face. They push the chair back to stand, and only when they’re on their feet again does Malleus turn to them. He can feel wetness on his cheeks as he stares at their slender, frail form. He had managed to keep himself from crying so far—but now it’s become a battle he can no longer wage.

“What a delectable meal.” The sin eater sighs as they brush down their suit before stepping away from the table. They pause as they face the prince before bending at the waist in a low bow. The black pits that represent their eyes do not stray from his face as they do so. “They rest—as you should, too. I know you have at least another day of the wake to endure, so try to recover as much energy as you can. They would not want you to suffer on their behalf.”

Malleus doesn’t reply as his gaze drifts to your shrouded form on the pedestal. His love, his partner, his calirh. When the sin eater is already halfway to the door, he clears his throat, causing them to pause and look his way. Malleus stares at their masked face with an expression of neutrality once more. 

“... thank you.” He offers softly. The sin eater tilts their head, bows, and steps out of the silent hall.

[jinxedmuse]

best friend - lee sohee, 이소희

in which: your best friend sohee offers a "no strings attached" relief from the stress of your relationship but finds himself falling in too deep.

an: don't know if you guys have listened to sohee's playlist but he has a lot of romantic songs on there, mainly best friends to lovers centric or heartbroken ones and it made me want him even more..

warnings: cheating, accidental overstimulation, rough sub!sohee, multiple orgasms, lots of whining and begging from sohee, lowk manipulative, degradation, pet names, oral, sohee is older than reader by like 4 months, reader's bf is eunseok...

playlist: sex eden, get up newjeans, like you do joji, to. ex taeyeon, i feel it coming wknd

wc: 2.1k... been going feral over sohee the last couple of days, had to get it out my system, consider this my comeback?

movie nights at your place on friday were a mandatory tradition you've had with your best friend, lee sohee for over five years.

this year, due to a recent (almost a year) addition to your life (a boyfriend) the sense of freedom that came with this night significantly decreased. what was supposed to be a night to catch up with your best friend, free of stress from external sources had turned into check-ins with your boyfriend every hour or so and an uncomfortable amount of distance between you and sohee, physically as well.

this wasn't necessarily because your boyfriend saw sohee as a threat, i mean, he looked like a mini duck you win at a fair or something. sohee is shy but humorous, mischievous but respectful. yet your boyfriend always felt like something was (in his words) "off" about how sohee always stuck at your side sometimes s little too literally and close for comfort.

you dismissed it, insisting your close relationship had stemmed from a bond built off being relentlessly teased together since high school. that, "sohee isn't like that. we're just best friends is all. trust me" you'd say, fully believing yourself as well, because how could your relationship ever change after 5 years?

easy.

you were currently sending your boyfriend his 3rd "update" within the past hour. you hear a loud sigh coming from sohee's side of the couch. you finish sending your text before looking up.

"i know, i know. sorry, you know how he is, just overprotective is all" you say in defense, already knowing what your best friend was about to complain about.

sohee doesn't face you, instead, laser-focused on the movie you both were barely even watching. trying to ignore the heavy change in dynamic ever since you got into a relationship.

"i know" he starts whining, twisting the hem of the throw cover that was over his lower half, a heavy feeling in his heart. "it's just that we hardly get to hang out together as it is, and when we do you're glued to your phone."

you weighed on his words while looking at him. his voice was soft and shaky but showed no signs of tears in his eyes. his beauty marks scattered all around his face, some trailing in his collarbones and ears. fueled by a sudden pang of guilt you toss your phone onto the table in front of you and crawl over to shoes side of the couch. earning a sly smile from the smaller-framed boy.

"this close? how scandalous" he jokes, opening up the throw cover so you can get underneath it with him. safe distance, of course. you sling an arm around him immediately earning a groaned laugh as he tries to push you off. you tussle his hair until his grip gurns into more of a pained restrict with one hand and he lands you onto your back.

sohee is now on top of you, both his legs at each of your sides, his necklace, part of the set the two of you had although you haven't been wearing yours recently hanging in front of your face. his oversized shit that was a little too big for him leaving a gap between the collar and his neck, chest slightly exposes.

you were too engulfed in his scent, clean laundry, one you've always found comforting, to realize he was full-on staring at your lips. a hard-on slowly forming and straining against his cargo pants.

"why do you keep forgetting i'm older than you, huh?" he teases. the truth is sohee is older than you by 4 months. however, when you first met (since you were already in the same grade) you were so adamant about dropping honorifics. insisting that technically you were "same-age friends."

once you realize he's staring at your lips your mouth suddenly goes dry, and you push out a forced laugh. trying to ignore the heat coming from between your legs, suddenly realizing how heavy he feels on top of you. You couldn't bring yourself to push sohee off despite how wrong it was. this was still innocent, right?

"i didn't forget," you say, your own eyes now stuck on his pink lips "i just don't care." you tease back, trying to overturn the situation but his grip remains steady, not letting you get up. just feeble squirms now and then.

do you not see me as a man? he asked, it was a whimper the way it came out so whiny. you giggle at this, not taking the boy on top of you seriously.

he tilts his head, sizing you up and down. eyes stopping right at your boobs, your nipples hard and visible through your thin shirt. he shifts his weight so that now he's sitting directly on top of you. his bulge that was now rock hard right over your heat. "don't you want things to go back to the way they were?" he asked innocently.

you feel like a spell had been cast on you, his slight pressure on your cunt caused it to flex around nothing, aching to be touched but you couldn't do that to your boyfriend. you shake your head in disagreement. "what do you mean sohee, and why are you still on me idiot" you ask jokingly, trying to lighten the tension in the room now. the movie was long forgotten.

"oh cmon' he starts again, "don't you ever get bored of" he gets interrupted by your phone ringing, a special tone you had set for only your boyfriend. it was starting to piss sohee off.

why was his precious time with you always getting interrupted by your insolent waste of a boyfriend? "of that" he grunted out, dipping so that his member was now grinding down on you. you hold back your moans, throwing your head back. ashamed at the amount of pleasure you felt.

this isn't right, you tried to reason with yourself. you have a boyfriend, sohee is your best friend, but fuck, does it feel good the way he was messily rutting himself against you. practically dry humpin' you.

"sohee." you managed to choke out through moans "this isn't right" you object, fighting your hands from going up and pulling him closer to you.

"it's not cheating if you don't do anything back, just let me make you feel good please, huh princess? don't you remember how good i was? don't you want to know how much i improved" he asks, leaving slopping kisses down your neck, his slim hands roaming all over your body, tugging at your clothes.

he was currently referring to back what happened on a hot summer day during freshmen year up in your old tree house that barely fit the growing bodies of two best friends. you can still remember how hot it was, sweat sticking to your bodies before you had even started anything.

your frames uncomfortable in the one-size-too-small tree house, it was awkward, but it felt so sexy back then, and yet as soon as he was done, the reality of what you had done hit you and you couldn't look at each other for a week once school started.

once you got over it, you vowed to never do something as reckless to your friendship as that again.

2 years later during senior year, you fucked. you were each other's first, and you both wanted to "get it out the way" as college was right at your doorsteps. the nerve-wracking idea of losing it to some stranger didn't make sense, right? i mean what better way to lose it than in the back of your first car, during the first snow of winter, with your best friend, for your first time?

you had both pushed it aside. vowing it was just to not be behind your college peers and to never speak of it again. not wanting to add to the statics of why "men and women can't be friends", whatever that meant. sohee entered and left a few relationships after that. always breaking them off because he got bored after a certain point. he was single right now, opposite to you who was in a relationship.

this was wrong. every fiber of your being knew it was wrong but it was the first time you and sohee were alone together in a while. His eyes were full of lust, everything about him currently oozed sex appeal and you wanted him badly. there was no denying that with the way your cunt kept clamming around nothing, begging for attention.

sohee takes one of his hands and brings it down to your cunt, the heat he feels coming from it is almost instant. "look at you, acting like you don’t want it but you’re so fucking turned on right now" he says as he rubs his hand onto your clothed cunt.

you bite your lip, holding back a moan at his vulgar words. "it's a normal bodily reaction if you’re practically humping me, i have a boyfriend." you beg, eyes leading yet your body betraying you every time he gently rubs your pussy.

"who do love more?" he asks getting closer, “my boyfriend" you pathetically strain out at a last attempt to redeem yourself for doing this. he licks your ear lov slowly, biting the too which earns a moan from you before trailing back down to your neck with small wet pecks. his hand was still on your cunt and you were now grinding onto it.

"who makes you feel better huh? me?" he asks when he gets to your breast, he removes his hand from your cunt earning a desperate mewl from you, immediately missing his touch on you.

"look at you, rutting your desperate little pussy to get some relief from your best friend, but you expect me to believe you love your boyfriend? huh, whore?" he growls in between sloppy kisses and sucks to your nipple, twisting them every time you shook your head to try and tried to deny his (very true) allegations.

he watches as your back arches from the sofa a bit, his aching cock begging to be freed but he isn't satisfied yet. he takes the other hand that was holding both of yours up and brings it down to your cunt, slipping into your extremely short shorts and going over your delicate panties

you were already wet, his fingers slipping against your puffy lips way too easily. “look at you~~~~" he says in a mocking tone, "all wet for me, baby? beg and i’ll make you feel good" he taunts unto your ear. you nod your head immediately "please sohee, f-fuck i need you to touch me"

"i’m sorry slut, what was that?"

you chase his fingers, eyes teary at his teasing "please, hee fuck me" you cry in desperation, nails digging into his shirt, pulling him closer.

at this point, you were too horny to care about how desperate you seemed, becoming an incoherent mess full of whining and begging.

sohee falls completely apart, drooling at your blubbering mess, he likes two of his slim digits, pointer, and middle finger, and thrust them into your throbbing cunt, curling them slightly,

your back arches almost completely off the couch, both your hands gripping his forearms in pure bliss, eyes shut in concentration on how good it all feels.

his slim digits entering and exiting you with such precision and a bit of roughness, curling up in all the right spots had you panting excessively, beads of sweat already forming on your forehead.

the faster and harsher he went, occasionally bringing his yup to play with your budded clit, you clam harder around him. suffocating his fingers, they dragged out of you in a way that made you see stars when you were dizzy.

"fuck-fuck, hee i think, nghnnn, i'm about to, fuck, come" you wring it, spit at the side of your mouth from it being slack open as you moaned underneath him, chest heaving up and down

your pathetic state doesn't take away from sohee's own though; he's as much of a whining, moaning mess as you are. his head all foggy from how pretty you looked underneath him, sweat coating your soft skin as your puffy lips were wrapped around his fingers. his member was practically budging out of his pants, beads forming on his forehead in concentration but last minute he got an idea.

he pulls out his fingers with a swiftness that makes you practically cry. your eyes snap open, a pout as you look at him. confused at this sudden action. "let me stuff myself inside you and then taste your cum, huh? what do you think about that princess~~" he asks in his usual teasing voice. moments like this when he was giving you brain fog you remembered he was your best friend.

but that didn't matter right now, you needed to be fucked dumb. so you just nod your head like a pathetic bitch in heat and he smiles, quickly unzipping his pants and pulling down his boxers.

his dick is now free and you almost faint at the sight. he was clean-shaven, with balls the perfect size for you to cup in your hand. he wasn't huge or even too thick but he was long, long, and veiny, his dick was a light hue of pink while his tip was beaming red. streams of pre cum endlessly flowing out. you moaned at the sight, looking at it with begging eyes.

he's satisfied with your reaction, knowing you hadn't seen it since that night two years ago during senior year in the back seat of your car. he suddenly felt like he was on top of the world, an ego boost surging through him as he watched how you looked at his member longingly.

he gives his dick a few pumps over your cunt, his cum leaking onto you, "you want me to stuff you baby? all bare while you have a man waiting for your call?"

his questions bring heat to your cheeks, God you were such an asshole for this but you needed sohee so desperately you felt like you were going to cry if you didn't have him inside you. you watch the way his cum leaks into you as he's pumping himself above you and you find yourself subconsciously bringing up your lower body so your cunt could meet up.

he pushes you back down, a smirk on his face

"be patient, it's the least a whore could do" with one last painful squeeze he takes both your legs and put them onto his shoulders, he aligns himself with your core and spit on his hand, slapping your cunt one last time before inserting his tip into.

you let out an animalistic mewl at how much pleasure that simple act gave you but you barely have any time to adjust yourself before he slams himself fully into you

you try to pull back away, but the pressure was too much, you looked down and felt like you could see his cock slamming in and out of you. it was so slim and long that it hit all the right places on the first try. your chest was heaving up and down the same way it did after you ran a marathon or chased after your bus. the amount of pleasure you were experiencing was driving you crazy, he pulled you back in by your waist, eyebrows furrowed.

you felt so full like you were about to pee. "I can't; fuck i'm-close can't take it" you cry out trying out again to back up but he takes both his hands and cozily and pushes himself deeper into you, he hit the spot that makes you cum and as if on the command you do exactly that. a mix of squirting and creamy come going all over his balls and coating his base, even getting on his toned stomach. fuck he was in love

the sight of you coming and moaning all because of him has him doing the same, he holds your waist in position and cums in you, not pulling out until you were full of every last drop of his seed. you felt yourself practically getting filled up as if you had just eaten. the feeling was pure ecstasy, your boyfriend always pulled out even when you begged.

you stare at each other for a moment, what was once lust got replaced by something else which stirred a desire in the pits of your stomach. you get interrupted by the rining if that special tone once more, you start to reach f for it but sohee grabs your hand and slams it down next to you.

"don't," he says sternly. it was supposed to sound like a command but it almost sounded like he was begging, pleading for your attention to stay on him. you nodded with starry eyes, still coming down from the incredible high he had just given you.

he crouches down and you sit up halfway on your elbows sorta confused, suddenly he pulls your in and hurridly barries his face into your cunt. it started a lot romantic as if he were making out with your cunt. delicate kisses to your inter thigh, slower pulling on your lips, and tender licks on your clit. you sigh in bliss, but you lose your balance when he strikes his tongue into your core, a finger at your clit playing with it in a circular motion that has you moaning profanities.

his tongue would occasionally go flat to slurp up the combination of both your juices, your cum mixed was now coated on his tongue and around his offy pink lips, he ate you out like he was a starved animal. his grip on your hip grew firmer the more you moaned his name. his dick was now slightly hard again and he found himself pathetically rutting against the couch as he ate you out to offer himself some form of relief.

you come again, this time in his mouth and he doesn't waste a second licking up all your wetness, moaning at how good you taste, drowning you in praises for coming for him twice. your leg was shaking, toes curled at the overstimulation when suddenly siri starts reading out loud a recent message sent 1 minute ago:

"eunseokie says: 'why haven't you been answering? i'm outside, i'm coming up now.' one minute ago. Would you like to reply?"

"NO", you yell out in a rush, sitting up and suddenly too aware of your current state sohee lifts his head, he sees the look on your face and knows his fun with you is over.

sohee purposely drags his tongue out of you at a slow, painful pace that ears one last moan out from you before he sits up, throwing his head back onto the couch while pulling up his boxers and pants, stuffing his still aching cos into them.

you get off the couch and look around for your panties but they are still in sohee's pants, you bend down and reach for them from his pocket but even with his eyes closed he gets a grip on your wrist and shakes his head. "don't even bother"

you let out an exasperated huff, legs still far too weak to be arguing right now. you calculated in your head and realized your boyfriend, eunseok should be coming up in approximately two minutes. you take a crumbled-up napkin from your table and use it to wipe anything off yourself before moving sohee out of the way you were down the couch before tossing it in the bin.

you then grab the throw blanket you were wearing and throw it into the washer, tossing in a random detergent before starting it.

"c'mon, sohee don't do this to me you have to go before he gets her-" your sentence is cut off by the sound of keys jiggling.

sohee gets up, and he looks at you in a way that makes your heart hurt. he runs a hand through his hair before he leans in to kiss you, catching you completely off guard. you don't let yourself enjoy the kiss, backing up before wiping your lips with the back of your hand, eyes almost popping out of your sockets.

you hear the door open and sohee smirks, smiling as he makes his way to the from. you follow loosely behind him.

sohee and eunseok met right at the door as sohee was bending down to finish tying up his shoes.

"ah, hyung nice to see you again," sohee says as he pulls together his most polite smile, even sticking out his hand for a handshake. eunseok looks down at it and shakes it, giving a curt smile as he enters.

"are we close enough for you to call me hyung" he asked, you'd be lying if you said he didn't look good. jet black hair parted to the side, a cocky and passive-aggressive smile plastered on his face. sohee noticed the way you looked at eunseok and felt bitterness grow in his heart, and that was the one thing he had never been.

you clear your throat and approach your boyfriend, slightly limping before wrapping your arms around his neck, eunseok drops sohee's hands and pulls you into an embrace by your waist. it hurts slightly because sohee was just gripping them but you plaster your fake smile, holding back a whimper of pain. sohee looks at you both before he heads out the door.

with you still at his side, eunseok holds the door handle, watching the younger boy in front of him with daggers.

"ah, there's something on your lip, over here" eunseok points out to the younger boy, pointing a finger to his top lip to point out where the "thing" is.

soheee brings his finger up to where it is and looks at his hand after, it was your wetness, still on his face, in front of your fucking boyfriend. you mentally face-palm yourself and pray to the universe your boyfriend is too fired to guess what that is.

sohee drags it into his mouth, strategically sucking on his finger with an innocent smile. "thanks hyung, reader gave me a nice, warm, toaster struddle earlier. i'm a bit of a messy eater tho" he says with a slightly narcissistic laugh as he shoves his hands into his pocket, you can see in one pocket he's fumbling with something, your panties to be exact.

yeah, time to wrap this up, you thought to yourself before tugging in eunseok's long-sleeved leather jacket, you pulled him back before giving sohee a curt nod and apologetic smile that only the two of you knew.

sohee's heart felt heavy, and you couldn't put it into words but yours did too. he gave a nod back as if all was fine as if he understood but you could tell by the look on his face that his heart was breaking right in front of you and you were the cause, you slowly shut the door but your boyfriend locks it before you could even register the situation you almost got caught in and the heavy feeling in your chest.

eunseok pulls you away from the door, sighing as he walks and leads you to your living room, the living room where you just came twice.

you look up once you hear eunseok cough a bit and let go of your hand, plopping down on your couch.

"by the way, why is the washing machine on so late?'

--

an: hey! muse here, how'd you enjoy this short nonsense i whipped up after almost 6 months(?) of ghosting you all, haha.. but really, if i told you guys everything that happened to me since what i last dropped, you wouldn't even believe me. i'm still quite busy but i missed you guys, and i missed writing. i'm not going to make any promises on how frequently i'll update but for now, fuck it, why not say i'm back lol. i hope you guys enjoyed :)

[readychilledwine]

Kissed by Fire pt 2

Summary - Amelia Archeron, the oldest of the made sisters, sacrificed more than her sisters would ever understand, and more than she would ever allow them to know. Now, they want her to sacrifice her one chance at happiness, too.

Warnings - talks of sex work, beron, implied abuse, Lucien getting to be the smartest, person in a room.

Series Masterlist Eris Masterlist Master Masterlist

Eris sat at a silent family breakfast. Per tradition, no one spoke. No one had spoken at breakfast since Lucien's exile.

Beron no longer allowed casual conversation between his sons. No discussion of how their days were laid out, of who was covering which territory for the day, of how they slept.

Beron no longer allowed brotherhood. At least, not in front of him.

The note casually passed under the table started at their mother. He soft elegant script gracing the page. It had gone to the now youngest Hermes, his red hair was shaved on the right side with an intricate pattern and then curled on the top. He showed no reaction on his face before waiting for the next opportunity of Beron Speaking down to a servant over the quality of something she had no control over to pass it to Ares. The smug idiot also controlled his face as he continued eating and scratched his facial stubble that he had allowed to grow for much too long. He then waited for Beron to look away, passing the note to the second oldest whom Eris immediately shot a look. Apollo had always been the diplomatic one, the scholar interested in music and arts much more than any throne. He played his part well, but the male was easy to read. He kept his face cold and indifferent, waiting for the chance to pass the note To Eris.

Eris was the riskiest pass. He was constantly sitting at his father's right hand. A testament to his efforts and the cruelty he'd inflicted for the sake of his mother, his brothers, himself.

Lunch and tea at noon? Your father is going to the Winter Borders Today.

It wasn't even a question in Eris's mind. His mother could ask him to carve his own heart out and he would say yes.

Walking alongside Beron was something Eris longed to end. He always felt an almost slime growing on him when he had to. He listened carefully as Beron's spymaster, an undereducated ruddy looking male who hardly could gather anything worth knowing, handed him a folder.

“Rumor has it the King of Hybern got a hold of the 3 older Archeron sisters and threw them in the Cauldron,” he paused as Beron did. A look of disbelief flashes in his father's eyes as he opens the Report. “All three of them emerged fae.”

“And where did this rumor come from?”

The male looked at Beron, a small smirk forming, “Ianthe. She's currently in Spring with the curse breaker. Tamlin and the boy witnessed the whole thing.” The simple mention of Lucien had Eris looking up. “One of the sisters is evidently his mate.”

Chill set over Eris at that thought. It settled when he looked at his father's face. In place of the normally stone cold mask was a smile, not one of joy or happiness. One that promised if he ever got his hands on that poor girl, she would suffer, just so Lucien did. Just so his mother did. “Find out if this is accurate and let Eris know as soon as possible. Then find out which sister.” Beron slapped the report on Eris's chest. “Ensure your mother does not learn of this until it is convenient for me.”

Eris went to the tearoom his mother and brothers sat in, stress lining his every muscle like a heavy coat as he did. “I have news,” he watched as they all sighed heavily. “Lucien has a mate,” he threw the papers down. “I am guessing these three are why Azriel came to me a few weeks ago.”

Andromeda held the papers tight, reading each line over and over. “This changes things,” her voice was soft, breaking slightly at what this could mean. “You four need to be ready.”

Hermes leaned back, nodding as he did.

Ares took the reports next, Studying them hard. “You said the shadowsinger made you a deal right? Can you use it to force Rhysand into a bargain?”

Apollo sighed heavily, having dealt with Rhysand the most in the 50 years they were all trapped together. “Rhysand isn't going to bargain for his assistance unless his family is at risk. That's his sole motivation in his world. Not his court. Not himself. His family.”

“We need more,” Eris concluded. “Helion might not be enough. Tamlin is an unstable support. Kal is unknown. Thesan is going to hand his support on a platter just because he hates Beron. Rhysand-”

“Has no hound in the race,” his mother finished with a distant look over her shoulder towards the window. Towards the sunlight she could never fully bathe herself in. “Find one.”

Amelia hated Rhysand. She leaned across a table from him, blinking at him like he was an absolute idiot. “If I could access it, I could learn to control it, Rhysand.”

The High Lord sighed. “And when you open a gate to Mother knows where, Welcoming Mother knows what into my court and home, what then Amelia?”

It had taken Amren the better part of three weeks. Three long weeks Amelia had spent on constant faebane.

She hardly ate anymore, not that she really was before.

All glow and color had left her skin, leaving her pale and lifeless.

Her eyes constantly held dark circles from dreamless sleep.

Rhysand saw the parallel. He was not foolish or blind. It ate at him, nagging loudly in the back of his mind and pounding over and over again whenever he'd shut his eyes.

He kept lying to himself, pretending it was for Amelia's own good.

There had not been a worldwalker since Amren first appeared. And even those thousands of years ago, the walkers were rumors. Ghosts in the wind passed down by busy body gossips who believe they possibly saw a gate open and close.

“And what will you do if I just refuse to take it?”

Rhys looked up at Amelia, a sympathetic glaze to his eyes as he began to hold her mind and force her to drink the tainted wine. “It wouldn't matter,” his voice was flat. “I am sorry Amelia, but until we find out more, this is what I have to do to keep you safe.”

“Safe,” she whispered the word back like it was poisoned. “You all promised us that word before and failed,” she stood ignoring the look of pain that flashed on his face, on Cassian's, on Azriel's. “Hopefully you fail this time too.” She left the room, slamming the door so hard the frames shook.

Amelia walked down the hall, shutting her door Behind her and curled into her blanket, smiling at the familiar scent that screamed Autumn.

Amelia pulled out the map of Pryithian She had ripped out of a book. Studying it hard one more time.

She'd make it out of this damned court.

Even if she had to burn it to the ground to do so.

Lucien read the note over and over again. It had come to him through the hearth. It smelled of roasted chestnuts and a crackling fire.

He wished he could bask in it. He wished he could bottle up the scent and bathe in it, take comfort in it during nights when his dreams plagued him.

The sense of security the scent brought him was almost mocking as he read his mother's handwriting over and over.

“Beron knows. He knows about your mate. Hide her. Run away with her.”

Lucien sat on his bed, sending a silent prayer to the Cauldron. He had planned on running with Feyre anyways. He had been trying to find a way out for them for a week now, but the damn twins went everywhere with them.

Lucien hid the note as his door opened without a knock, “What do you want, Ianthe?”

“There's something in the forest. Tamlin told me to take you to look at it.”

Several days had passed since Amelia and Rhys fought. They had only spoken in passing, the female holding her head high and refusing to apologize. The high lord returned the sentiment. He had started having to have Azriel or Cassian watch her drink the tea, or else she would dump it according to the twins.

She had lost weight. Way too much weight. Her and Elain were walking skeletons. Rhys entered Amelia's room, heart falling at the sight of each bone visible in her back. “Feyre has escaped Spring. Lucien is coming with her.”

Amelia nodded. “Elain's mate. How does your dear Shadowsinger feel about that?”

Her bored tone had Rhys immediately irritated. “Do you not care that your youngest sister is currently on the run?”

She raised a brow, crossing her arms over the sweater that was now much too large for her. “I trust Feyre's abilities to get herself out of anything she walks into. I've had no choice but to do that for years,” she moved towards the window. “You do not know everything, Rhysand, you do not know the extent of my care nor the sacrifice I made.”

He sat in the chair he always took, “Because you refuse to tell me, Amelia. You refuse to tell me what oh so wonderful sacrifice you made while your younger sisters were cold and starving.”

Her mind flashed to that cabin, chopping wood for hours straight, stacking it nicely. To prepare them breakfast and leaving it to warm over a fire. Just for her to leave the house without eating and head to the pleasure house.

She'd leave before they woke, and return long after they slept.

Each night she'd hide money in Feyre's bags. Enough to get them food for the next week, if her younger Sister didn't decide to treat herself to unnecessary paints and brushes, then tuck the rest into another bag.

A bag she hoped to eventually gain enough gold stashed inside of to buy them a home.

One that wasn't one windstorm from falling apart.

“How long did you work there,” his voice broke. “How little were you paid to lay there.”

Amelia's father had lost and gambled away their wealth when Amelia was 15. “The second father was hunted down, so I went there. I was 15. I worked there long after that raging fluff ball decided we were his charity case. That's how Jurian found me. He bought me for the night using enough money that they'd turn a blind eye to whatever he wanted to do to me. The house took 90% of my Earnings. 20% would go towards paying off my debt to them so I could be free. They pocketed the rest. I'd take home a measly 10%.”

She could see the disgust washing over him. “How much was an hour with you?”

She shrugged, "Depended on what he wanted to do. I had a male pay 30 gold to beat me once. I had a male pay 50 to do things I never want to speak about again.”

Rhys nodded. “Why don't they know?”

“Because High Lord, nothing says hold on to your hopes like finding out your sister fucks for coin.”

She watched Rhysand get a distant look in his eyes, “I have to go. She's here.” Amelia nodded. “I will give her your love, even if you won't ask me to.”

She paused, looking at him in shock. He moved to her, kissing her temple softly. “No one will ever touch you without your consent again. I promise. Just give me time for the rest. We are still searching.”

Something soft was in his eyes. Something akin to care. To love.

It made Amelia feel bile set in her stomach followed by guilt.

Despite her anger and insults, he was trying.

And maybe, she should try too.

Lucien sat on the couch across from the oldest Archeron sister. He was trying to process her outfit. “Where did you get that sweater?” His brother's sweater, Lucien didn't say the words after a look from Azriel and Cassian told him not to.

“Az brought it to me,” Lucien hummed at her response.

They were studying each other. Trying to figure out each other's ticks like it was their passion project in court training. “Why do you smell like faebane?”

She countered immediately, “Why do YOU smell like faebane?”

“Poisoned by the same whore of a priestess who sold you out,” Lucien leaned back, raising and nodding for her explanation.

“Being forced to take it because that whore of a priestess had me thrown into an oversized Cauldron and it did something to me.”

“Enough,” Azriel said softly. “This conversation is done.”

“What do you mean?” Lucien pushed despite the warning.

“I can see strings,” Amelia said softly. “They're all different. Different colors, smells, materials. Some sparkle like what they're connected to is active and alive. Some are duller like light can't fully reach the end I can see.”

Lucien felt his face dropping, unable to school a reaction due to his exhaustion. “And these strings, when you touch them, can you hear anything? See anything?”

She nodded. “Between teas when they come back, I can reach them. One was dark, cold, when I touched it I heard a woman's voice. It sounded like someone was singing a dark song as she spoke in a language I didn't understand. Another time there was a string that almost seemed to glow. I could hear laughter, strange music, another language I didn't know.”

The three males shared a look. This was more information than they had gotten from her in a month, "Amelia, the night you followed me, did you pull one of the strings?”

She looked to Azriel, blue eyes sad. “In my sleep, yes. It smelled like fire and apples,” Lucien's stomach fell. “I was drawn to whoever you were speaking with. Like their voice was enough to keep me warm. Like they'd be enough to keep me safe.”

Azriel felt his face pale when she turned away and stood to leave the room.

“I think I already know the answer, but who were you with?”

Cassian sighed, sitting down. “He went to Eris. To get that sweater and a blanket in hopes he would enchant them. Amelia can't hold warmth since the Cauldron.”

“Has she met him?” They shook their heads. “I'd keep her away from him.” Azriel knew what Lucien was suggesting and voiced soft agreement. “Beron can't get his hands on a Realm Walker. It'd be too dangerous for every court and world she got him to.”

Lucien sipped the tea he had staring at the fire. "You should also check resources from Vallahan instead of here. The last recorded Realm Walker was born and trained there. Helion would be able to get his hands on some of their notes."

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes

Kissed by Fire Taglist:

@justdreamstars @coralseacourt @kemillyfreitas @impossibelle @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @believinghurts

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: sully kids x hard of hearing metkayina male reader (platonic)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: In a search for a way to communicate with you, the family has to master Na'vi sign language. Along the way of teaching them, however, you learn more about yourself.

ᴀɴᴏɴ: can you do a male Metkayina clan reader BUT the reader is hard of hearing because of the water from swimming.

ʀᴇ𝐐: yes ~ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6148 ~ extra ~ gn reader vers.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: feelings of shame and embarrassment, struggling to hear and understand people (and yourself), hints of angst

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: we don't have resources for their exact sign language so i made some things up (since na'vi sign language isn't the same as asl) as well as iknimaya trials and traditions.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Ever since you were a kid, you had always loved the ocean. The Metkayina clan was a tribe of the water, the ocean, so it made sense; but unlike others your age who preferred to play with each other, you enjoyed being completely surrounded by Eywa's children within the ocean.

You had no qualms with solitude, as all you needed was the sea; but eventually, it proved to be a problem.

The sea gives and the sea takes; it gave you a world to love and took your hearing.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Tsireya introduced you to Sully's in their first lesson as one of the Metkayina who truly loved the ocean. "This is our best free diver," She put a hand on your shoulder, "(y/n). You're lucky I managed to find him."

Instead of responding in some negative way at her comment, you grin and offer a small wave.

"How so?" Lo'ak questions.

Tsireya doesn't answer outright. She giggles, "You'll see."

The chief's children and you jump into the water, demonstrating the proper way to dive in that best transitions into swimming. The Sully's, on the other hand, jump into the water as though in play.

You could see it in their eyes, their amazement. The sea was an entirely different world from the one above, it was something you loved about it.

Only the Na'vi and their animal companions mingled on the coast above. The ilu could be compared to their banshees, nothing special; and the people, though physically different, were still Na'vi.

You didn't doubt that these water creatures were unlike anything they'd seen before, and you were happy that they were astonished with the wildlife you, too, loved.

You turn back forward to swim, knowing that they'll follow. You show them the form, using your tail to help and keeping your body like a spear to be able to cut through the water.

You lead them deeper into the sea, but Ao'nung taps your shoulder. You turn to follow his finger, which points up.

The Sully's were taking a breath of air. Right, that's probably something you should teach them, but you were probably not the best teacher.

Within the water, your safe haven, you tended to forget many things, so you signed to them, keep going, forgetting they didn't know how to sign.

You keep swimming, this time checking up on them as you reach an underwater slope. They were bad swimmers, it seemed, which is an idea sort of incomprehensible to you, as every Metkayina was basically born in the ocean. They pushed off of coral and rock formations to push forward and keep up.

They don't even make it to you when they go back up for air.

What's wrong with them? Ao'nung signs.

They're bad divers. Rotxo replies. Though fingers and hands hardly conveyed emotion, you knew from Rotxo and Ao'nung's generally jokester demeanor that he was making fun of them.

Stop, they're learning. Tsireya scolds.

Whilst they talk to one another, you get distracted with something out of the corner of your eye. It was bioluminescence, hardly noticeable during the daytime, which is why it's so curious. You forget the lesson at hand and follow it.

The chief's children and Rotxo swim up to talk to the Sully's where they will actually understand each other. It is only after Tsireya promises to teach them sign language, which Neteyam ignorantly describes as "finger talk", that they notice you and their dear sister's disappearance.

The bioluminescence you had caught came from a lone hammerhead squid, which is even more peculiar because it was alone. Perhaps it was paranoid, because when it saw you, it began swimming away with determination.

You struggle to catch up with it.

It dives behind large coral, hoping to lose you, but you always catch up. Hammerhead squids found safety in numbers, so they usually didn't go so fast, which means it would tire out soon.

Knowing this, you kept up the chase. Regardless, however, it puts up a good fight.

It shoots out its ink prematurely. The black liquid disperses in the water, clouding much of the view ahead of you. Instead of swimming through it, you dive under, although you almost bump into a sharp rock. Narrowly, you avoid it, swimming up quickly once you're past the ink.

Though you move past it, its original outcome–clouding your view–succeeds. When you clear the ink, you suddenly bump into someone.

Sorry. You sign, rubbing at your forehead where you'd bumped into her, so so sorry.

The girl before you is one of the Sully's. Her eyebrows furrow, confusion in her face, but you misinterpret it as anger. Great, it's the Sully's first day in the clan and you were already giving bad impressions.

I didn't mean to bump into you.

Her eyebrows furrow further. Ultimately, although she doesn't like it, she decides to surface so that the two of you may speak. She points up and you understand.

Once you're up at the surface, she says, "I don't know what you're saying."

You had long since memorized the way one's mouth moves when they say those words, and their variations, so you explain, "I was apologizing for bumping into you."

Though the next couple words come muddled to you, you just barely catch her saying "alright" and a wave of relief washes over you. "What's your name?"

"Kiri." She gives you a polite smile.

"Nice to meet you, Kiri." You nod. "I didn't realize we'd lost you while diving. Why'd you wander off?"

"Oh, I um," She worries that you may think her a freak, so she waters it down. "I got distracted."

You chuckle, "Yeah, I get it. Happens a lot to me too. It's like a different world, isn't it?"

Her face lights up when you agree with her, "Yeah, it is." She ached to observe it again, to be surrounded by Eywa'eveng. "Do you mind if I..?" She gestures down.

You tilt your head, confused. "You what?"

"Go down again." Kiri mutters, little ashamed to say out loud that she'd rather be underwater than talk with you, but you manage to read her lips.

"Oh, of course I don't." You shake your head, "Actually, I was in the middle of finding something. Do you wanna come with?"

Though she much preferred to take the sights all in on her own and on her own time, she had to admit your offer was interesting. "Okay, sure." She nods.

Kiri follows you back underwater, and keeps swimming after you. Reminded of the other Sully's, you make sure to keep your head straight and swim at a slower pace.

As you keep swimming past large coral and columns of algae, trying to catch a glimpse of the squid you were searching for before, Kiri gets distracted by something particularly special out of the corner of her eye.

She stays in place, entranced, and almost swims for it before remembering the task at hand. However, when she turns to you, you're swimming back to her.

Txampaysye. You sign, but of course she wouldn't understand. So, you wave your hand in the water to create ripples in the current and signify the water. Then, you pass a hand from your stomach to your throat and out your mouth to signify breathing. Breathing underwater.

Somehow, she understands. Though the butterfly-like Txampaysye catches her attention, uncharacteristically of her, she gestures for you to keep going. She'll have time another day.

Just a bit of swimming later, you find the squid again. It doesn't notice you. You point at it and Kiri's head tilts with curiosity.

How could a squid be bioluminescent in the day? The sunlight's rays still reached it.

Do you want to catch it? You closed your hand, from splayed fingers into a fist very quickly, the sign for catch. It was pretty straight forward, so Kiri understood; what she didn't understand, and what she was against, was the idea.

The question was only formal. You swim forward without waiting for her answer, thinking she wanted to catch it.

You approach it as silently as possible, keeping your arms to your body and swaying up and down, using your feet like a fin. You keep your tail rigid and in place, for paddling it side to side as opposed to up and down like your legs would create unnecessary noise.

Once you are close enough, you lunge with a quick, sharp movement. It doesn't have time to react before you catch it between your fingers and palm.

Triumphantly, you turn to Kiri with your hand raised, failing to notice her growing anger. You swim towards her with enthusiasm.

Fyìp ioang. You sign.

For a moment you think you may be misinterpreting confusion as anger again, but you quickly realize you're interpreting correctly. Kiri pries your fingers apart, freeing the creature who spurts the last of its ink (only a little) and leaves.

Her eyebrows are furrowed, a look you hate, and she points up towards the surface again. You follow, embarrasment beginning to spread through your body.

"You shouldn't be taking animals against their will." She scolds, pointing an accusatory finger at you. Her anger was loud and clear in her voice, loud enough for you to hear.

"Sorry." You purse your lips and mumble so low you can't even hear it yourself, "I was only curious."

She huffs, "Your curiosity doesn't mean you can imprison them just to poke and prod."

"Yeah," You point your gaze down, "you're right."

"Just don't do it again." With that, she begins to swim away, not caring if you follow her.

With shame, you dive back into the water, in search of one of your favorite places to soothe yourself.

She was right, of course, but your curiosity was often one of your driving points. It was why you spent most of your time in the ocean, what kept you entertained underwater. On the other hand, it was also why you'd lost so much of your hearing.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

The next morning, on their way to their second lesson, the Sully's find you.

Lo'ak, after yesterday, now understands why Tsireya was lucky to find you before. He thinks they're pretty lucky today, too, as it seems you're going to head into the ocean. "(y/n)!" He calls for your attention, but you don't hear him.

You're just about to dive in, so Lo'ak hurries up to meet you. He catches you by the shoulder. "Hey."

"Hey." You greet him with a smile. "What's up?"

"You left us yesterday. Where'd you go?" He asks curiously.

"I'm sorry, what?" You ask, having not heard him entirely.

"Where'd you go?" He repeats.

Again, you don't hear him. You purse your lips, the shame of not being able to understand people creeping in. "Oh, sorry, I didn't hear you."

"Where did you go?" Lo'ak repeats for the third time, slowing down his speech.

"Look, I'm really sorry–"

Neteyam catches up, slinging an arm over Lo'ak's shoulder. "What my brother means to ask is where you went yesterday, when you were supposed to be teaching us."

"Teach you?" You tilt your head as you think. Did the Olo'eyktan assign you something? Tsireya only took the opportunity because she saw you yesterday. You can't think of anything, though. "What am I supposed to teach you?"

Lo'ak sighs, "When you were teaching us how to free dive?"

The sigh makes you purse your lips. Your stupid ears were making people frustrated again. Still, you couldn't say anything when you didn't understand them. "...what about it?"

Tsireya comes to save you, noticing the struggle between you and the Sully's. "(y/n), here," She begins, pushing Lo'ak's hand off your shoulder, "struggles to hear, if you guys haven't noticed."

She signs to you, taking advantage of the fact they don't know how to sign. Do you want them to know your story?

You shake your head, to which she nods.

"It'd be much appreciated if you guys spoke louder, spoke clearer, and moved your mouths wider." She demonstrates the way they should speak as she instructs them. "It helps him to be able to read your lips until you learn how to sign."

"So he can hear us?" Lo'ak asks.

"Barely." You respond, reminding him that you are in fact in this conversation.

Neteyam nods, rubbing a burn into his brother's scalp. "Sorry, Lo'ak needs to remember these sorts of things."

"Shut up, bro." He pushes his brother away, causing him to skid sideways a few paces.

"(y/n), you would be a great help in teaching them sign language." Tsireya turns to you, signing as she speaks.

You understand, but you purse your lips. "Today? I sort of wanted to explore..."

"Doesn't have to be today, no," She shakes her head, "today is about breathing. If you want to leave, that's perfectly alright."

She smiles at you. Oh, Eywa, you loved Tsireya. She was so kind.

You take her permission and give a wave before diving into the water.

You swim farther into the ocean, trying to wash off your embarrassment with the cool water. It burned in your cheeks, anyway.

When the Olo'eyktan and Tsahìk found out about your hearing loss, you had already reached a point where there was no way to be healed. Everyone blamed your parents, their neglect for your ears and the proper care after a swim. But in truth, you knew you were also to blame.

It had been a long time since you were a burden. The Metkayina accommodated for your hearing loss. You were lucky to be born in the clan who originated the language that didn't require hearing. You had long since come to a comfortable life because of it.

When you realize that the embarrassment won't wear off so easy, you lay down on the sea grass covered sand—or lay down as best you can. The current pushes your head and limbs up.

Your intent was to relax, but the bioluminescent squid from yesterday pops up above you. You react quickly, reaching out and trapping it in your hand again.

You. You sign, awkward because you're one-handed, You embarrassed me in front of Kiri.

You'd missed two of its tentacles in grabbing it. It crosses its arms, giving you attitude, then pointed at you instead. Somehow, you understand.

Alright, fine. You huff, It's my fault. You release the squid, but this time it lingers. You forgive me?

It waves two of its tentacles up and down as if to nod its head.

You pluck a small fish from its school and hand it over as an extra peace offering. Sorry, fyìp.

It stares blankly at your offering. Clearly, it was refusing it, because it was definitely capable of catching that fish on its own. Also, you were ignoring the lesson Kiri taught you. You release the fish, which scurries back to its school, signing sorry again.

Why do you want to hang out with me?

The tentacles at its sides raise up in a shrug.

You lost your group. You purse your lips, extending your hand so that the squid may sit on it, even if it is redundant underwater. Are you trying to find a new one?

It shrugs again, though accepts the spot you give it on your hand.

Well, I suppose we're the same in that. You and I, we're special. I'm hard of hearing, and you're bioluminescent. You laugh inwardly, Although, those are two different things.

Fyìp does a twirl in your hand. It seems pleased.

Alright, let's go. I'll show you some of my favorite places.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

After the Sully's breathing exercises, Neteyam is eager to find you. He dives into the water, both practicing his breathing and speed.

For the third time, he's lucky to find you returning to the village for dinner, this time you were fortunately not caught up in exploring the sea.

Neteyam waves his hand in greeting. You do the same, though you hadn't realized he had more to say.

(y/n). He signs.

Immediately, your eyes light up. Neteyam is delighted.

Who taught you that? You sign. Your hands are a flurry of speed, but he manages to catch the words anyway.

He recognized "you" and "taught" and the distinct lack of "I", so he can assume what you asked. Tsireya. He signs simply, for she hadn't taught him much more than that and your names.

I'll teach you too.

He recognizes "I", "teach", and "you", and understands. He nods excitedly, then points up towards the surface. You follow.

"You're learning." You grin as you surface.

"Yeah." His smile turns bashful, "I want to learn so I can talk to you better." He even exaggerates the movement of his lips so that you may read them.

"Aww, that's sweet." Though you've only known him for so long, you give him a hug. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me." He shakes his head, still holding your elbows gently even as you part from the hug, "It's just what I should do."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Oh, you skxawng! You're late, you're late, you're late!

Too caught up within the serenity that the sea brought you, you had forgotten that you were supposed to be teaching the Sully's sign language!

You swim towards the shore with much hurry. Your body was preoccupied with a mission, to get there fast, and your mind was berating you for being stuck in your head so much. Because of it, you're not exactly focusing on the world around you.

"Oof!" You grunt as you bump into a column. It was one of the ones that supported the Marui pods above.

You pull yourself up onto your elbows on the pathway between pods, spitting out the water you'd caught in your mouth when you bumped so stupidly into a column.

Your squid friend jumps up too, sticking to your leg then climbing up to your shoulder. Its sticky tentacles feel weird on your skin, but you pay it no mind. Instead, you focus on cradling the spot on your forehead where you collided.

When Fyìp lands on your shoulder, you turn to it with a huff and go back to rubbing your head. Then, once you actually notice, you double take back to it.

"You can go above the surface?"

Now, no longer muffled by the water, you can just barely catch its squeal. Huh, so it was making sound all this time.

It twirls around your shoulder as if to say yes.

You turn your head back forward, resting your chin on the pathway. "I'm so stupid–wait." The Sully's and the chief's children are having the lesson quite a few ways ahead of you. They didn't seem to notice you. "It's them."

Fyìp's eyes almost seem to light up when it sees Kiri.

"Gah, should I really be joining them now? I'm so late!" You frown, thinking it over. "I'd be so lost," You narrate your thoughts for Fyìp, "every time I think about something to teach, what if they already taught it? What even is their teaching plan? I shouldn't have gone out today. Should've stayed to talk to Tsireya."

Thanks to your awful hearing and tunnel-vision, you don't notice Fyìp yapping in your ear. Only when it slaps you on the shoulder–it was a small animal, hardly hurt–do you pay attention to it.

"What?" You whine, now rubbing your shoulder.

Fyìp points forward vigorously, pulling its tentacle forwafd and back repeatedly.

"It'll be so embarrassing."

It crosses its arms in front of itself like a no. Even though you're sure it will be, Fyìp's insistence reminds you of your promise to Neteyam. It wasn't broken just yet.

"Okay, fine."

At your affirmation, Fyìp drops back into the water. You follow suit.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Learning a new language, later in your life, was always hard. Although, Jake Sully was the only one in his family with that experience.

"Lo'ak, why are you home early?" Jake and Neytiri rush over to him, sitting down as he does.

"Sign language is so hard." Lo'ak groans, his head down.

"Learning another language is hard," Jake affirms, putting a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder. "but it's like everything else. With practice, you'll get the hang of it."

"At first, he was terrible at Na'vi too." Neytiri grins, causing Jake to roll his eyes.

"Yes, and I became better." He gives her a pointed look, to which she only replies by baring her fangs playfully.

"Well, it's more than that." Lo'ak frowns, looking down at his hands, the very reason he was so different. "I have five fingers! Everyone else has four. Whenever there's a sign that requires fingers, everyone stares at me and Kiri. Their looks are so blank, but I can tell what they're thinking."

"So why didn't you say something?" Jake asks. "It's unlike you to not do anything."

It was a good question that left him silent as he thought. He didn't really know the answer, not as he dug through the surface of his mind. As he searched deeper, he found an answer, but he didn't really want to believe it. "It's because... Tsireya and (y/n) were there."

"And..?" Neytiri prods for him to continue.

"I don't want to disappoint them..." Lo'ak purses his lips, "or be a burden to them."

"Son," Jake places his hands on both Lo'ak's shoulders, causing him to finally look up at him. Jake wanted to be sure that Lo'ak understood the sentiment behind his words. "you're only learning. You can't disappoint them. And if they get upset at you, then that's their fault because they do not understand you and who you are."

"Next time," Neytiri speaks up, catching their attention, "make an arrangement. Find a way to work around it. Alright?"

Lo'ak nods, "Okay."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Usually, you were the one sought out within the Metkayina if they ever needed you because you were always doing something in the ocean. The sea was vast and cluttered, from seawall terrace to the shore, it was all within the realm of possibility of where you were.

But, for once, you're seeking someone out.

"Kiri!" You call, "I was looking for you."

She emerges from the ocean, ringing the water out of her hair. Too caught up in the sights and feeling Eywa in the sea, she had missed dinner. You could relate to that, so you had to make sure she was taking care of herself.

"What is it?" Kiri asks, treading carefully on her words.

"I saved you some dinner." You hand her a leaf dish of fish.

"Oh." Only once she sees the food does she remember her growling stomach and hunger. "Thank you." She takes the leaf from you gingerly but begins to scarf it down once it's in her own hands.

"It's no problem." You begin, "Sometimes I accidentally skip dinner too. I know the feeling of great hunger in the morning."

Kiri nods in understanding.

"Make sure to get the water out of your ears." You enthusiastically demonstrate by tipping your head to the side and tapping the side of it. "You don't want to end up like me."

Kiri almost chokes on her food. She coughs and puts it on the sand temporarily. "Like you?"

"You know," She doesn't know how you can retain a smile like this. "bad hearing and all."

Ever since you'd lost the majority of your hearing, the adults started using you as an example of what not to do. Not only did they advice the young ones while using your example, they also advised your peers. At first, it was embarrassing, but you began to understand why you were an example and had long since grown used to the embarrassment it brought.

"(y/n), are you using yourself as an example?"

"What?" You tease, "Wanna end up like me?"

"No, (y/n), that's not what I mean." She takes both your hands in hers. "You shouldn't be using yourself as an example of what happens if you don't take care of yourself."

"Why not?" It was pretty normal to you now. You purse your lips, "Everyone uses me as an example. I am what happens if you don't–"

"Because," Kiri breathes out in disbelief, "you're more than an example. You're your own person. You're more than your past mistakes."

"You're right," You snicker at the thought, "just like last time."

"I'm just saying what has to be said." She reassures, rubbing her thumbs over the back of your hands, "Value yourself more."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

The trend of you seeking other people out, when it'd always been the opposite before, followed along for Lo'ak.

After your sign language lessons, you retreated into the ocean to clear your thoughts. Now that you had what you were looking for, you had to find Lo'ak, which thankfully doesn't take long.

"Lo'ak!" You call as your eyes find him.

He himself seemed to be searching for you too, so when he sees you, his eyes brighten. He covers the ground between you two quickly. "Hey, I was just looking for you."

"Me too. Do you wanna go first?"

He nods, "I found out a way we can work around my fingers."

"Your fingers?" You tilt your head forward.

"Yeah." He shows them off, wiggling all five for you.

"What about them?"

"Oh," He realizes the question wasn't because you'd somehow forgotten how many he had, but because you hadn't heard the rest of his sentence. He speaks with his mouth wider for you, "I found a way to work around them."

"That's what I was trying to find you for, actually." You snicker, "I found a way to work with them."

"With them?" He hadn't thought it possible.

"Yep." You grin, "Oh, but you were going first. Go on."

"Right, um," Lo'ak lifts one of his hands with the other, up to your view, then he pulls his last finger down. "I was thinking we could tie down my pinkie."

"Your pinkie?"

"My last finger, the smallest, it's called the pinkie."

"Okay, right." You nod.

"Tie it down with like a, um," He snaps his fingers while he thinks. "rope or something until I learn to stop using it."

After hearing his thought, you burst out laughing. It leaves Lo'ak confused. He stands there awkwardly, arms falling down to his sides with a building shame because he can't understand what you were laughing at.

"Sorry, um," You shake your head to wipe the laughter from your face, "that's too cruel, Lo'ak."

"Cruel?" He asks, eyebrows furrowed.

"Yeah, don't you think? It's just like what your sister taught me. We shouldn't take things against their will." You hold his hand to bring it back between the two of you and press his pinkie down against his palm. The force you put on his knuckle and the position is rather uncomfortable for Lo'ak, and it shows in his face. "See?"

"Yeah, you're right." He mutters, then realizes his mistake. "Sorry, I mean, you're right." He enunciates louder and clearer. "Just that... I couldn't really find any other way."

"Well, I was thinking we could just use your middle fingers as a unit." You bring his pinkie back up and press your fingers on his middle fingers, "What do you call them?"

"This is the middle finger," He wiggles it and specifically avoids accidentally showing it off to you, even if you probably don't know what it means. "and this is the ring finger."

"Okay." You nod, understanding quickly. Then, you press your fingers against the ring's left and the middle's right and hold them together. "We can consider these as my middle finger."

You hold your hand up next to his, pulling your other fingers down to show him the middle. He almost laughs and tells you the meaning, but decides it's funnier if you don't know.

"Say, "happen" for example." You use his hand as if it were your own, as yours was holding it, and press the side of yourd against it. Then, you bring it to the side quickly whilst pushing your fingers wide apart. "To mimic my middle finger, you can use your middle and ring fingers together."

"But... wouldn't it be confusing?" Lo'ak argues, looking up into your eyes.

You turn away from him, biting your lip, "Much the same as you're... accommodating for me by learning sign language, we must accommodate for you too. It's only right."

"Accommodate..." He hated that word, and clearly, you were just as ashamed to use it. It had been used all throughout your lives because of your particularities. "Let's not say that."

You turn back up to him, a glimmer of hope within your eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Let's not say we're accommodating for our differences." He turns his hand, the one that rested upon your palm, and uses it to hold yours reassuringly. "Let's just say that we're doing this for each other."

He loves the way your face lights up with a smile. "That sounds good."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Thanks to Tsireya's efforts, the Sully's had learned the ways of the Metkayina.

They were still different, they were Omatikaya, and they and the Metkayina would always have their differences. However, despite their leaner bodies, they could catch up with you in the water; despite other physical differences like smaller lungs, they could stay underwater almost as long as you. They still preferred bow and arrow over spear and ikran over ilu.

Soon enough, they were good enough at free diving that they were allowed to perform their first Iknimaya trial, catching a small shell thrown into the sea.

Of course, it was the first because it was the easiest, the Metkayina completed it when they were young; but still, it called for a celebration.

Ronal denied a coming of age celebration. It was past the season for it, the tulkuns weren't home yet, and the Metkayina didn't know the Sully's enough for it to have any real sentiment.

It didn't matter to you, though. All they really wanted was a celebration with friends (which Ao'nung so gladly volunteered to not participate in).

You brought them into the sea for the celebration. For once, it wasn't a test of their breathing, speed, or swimming form. It was just exploring, enjoying the water; and they hadn't done that since they tamed their ilu.

As you dove into the sea, Fyìp swam to be near you. It seemed unbothered by the stares of awe he received.

Kiri grinned, signing to you, Fyìp ioang?

Yeah! Call him Fyìp now. You offer it a spot on your palm, which it accepts. You thrust your hand forward to show them all. He warmed up to me, forgave me.

Forgave you? Lo'ak signed. After your arrangement, he'd really gotten good at sign language.

Though the celebration was not meant to be a test, it was a great demonstration of how they were on their way to master sign language.

I believe I told you about the lesson Kiri taught me. I caught Fyìp to show it off to her, and she taught me I shouldn't have done so, even through all my curiosity. You nod at the thought, Wise words.

Kiri tucks a hair behind her ear, It just made sense to me. Not something wise or anything.

Sure. You huff out a laugh, then turn around to swim further in. Fyìp clings onto your shoulder.

The sights were already amazing. The Sully's were no longer limited by depth or obstacles now that they knew the way of water, so now they could see everything the sea had to offer.

You turn back to them again with an offer, You guys wanna see one of my favorite places? Knowing that they'll definitely agree, you turn back around and start leading the way.

It doesn't take long before you are standing before a marvel.

It was a cove of coral, fish, and many more ocean creatures. They were all colorful and eye-catching, but the main attraction was the ilu. It was similar to the Banshee Rookery in the Ayram alusìng.

We don't always tame ilu bred from other ilu at the village. Sometimes, we come here, though rarely. You explain.

These ilu were wilder, more aloof, but they still retained their friendly nature with the Na'vi. So long as you do not anger them, we can hang out with them.

The Sully's were practically let loose around the area. As you already knew much of it, you laid down on a rock at the heart of it and simply watched. Fyìp stuck around you, catching stray fish for dinner.

Kiri easily communicated with the ilu. Even if they were already friendly, they seemed even warmer with her.

Lo'ak managed to find the more playful ilu and had somehow gotten himself into a game of tag. He seemed to be one of the runners. He ducked behind coral, up and around rock arches. He was holding his own, despite the ilu naturally being much faster. Tsireya found herself watching too, and was laughing at Lo'ak's panicked face as he narrowly avoided being caught by an ilu.

As Lo'ak and Kiri both found their own things to do, it seemed Neteyam was stuck with Tuk. But she wasn't a burden to him. What kind of big brother would he be if she was?

He held her by the hand and admired some of the smaller creatures with her, although it seemed as though she had other intentions.

She escaped Neteyam's grasp and began swimming away with vigor. For a moment, Neteyam panicked, rushing after her with alarm. However, he soon relaxed once she saw she was going to you.

She waved hello adorably with a grin then signed. As the youngest, she had a bit more trouble with signing, but you understood her. Why do you like being in the water so much?

Well, it's very serene. You reply.

Neteyam caught up. He seemed interested too. Is that it?

You shrug, Sort of. There's some other reasons, but... You took in Tuk's hopeful eyes. She was far too cute to be denied. I could tell them to you.

Please? Will you? She swims closer, holding onto your wrists so that you may still sign.

Perhaps Tsireya rounded them up; otherwise, you have no idea why, as signing doesn't make sound, but they all round up around you. Even Fyìp swims closer.

It was a bit nerve-wracking, having all those eyes on you, but you had grown close to all of them. Nothing bad would come of it if you told them.

Okay.

Tuk's smile grows wider, she swims away so the others can see you too.

Ever since I was a kid, the ocean was so entrancing. It was majestic, a different world from the one above. The other kids my age, they preferred to play with one another. I preferred to explore the ocean. Even though I was hardly used to the world above, I still preferred exploring underwater.

Tsireya taught you that the sea gives and takes. While it gave me a world to love, it also took my hearing because I was negligent towards my ears. Eventually, the sea was more than just the world I loved. It was also the only place I could be normal.

Lo'ak and Kiri listen more carefully when you mention the word normal. It was something they both struggled with.

Everybody needs to sign to speak. You don't need your ears to listen to them, you only need your eyes; and my eyes, I still have. Underwater, I swim and speak and listen just like everyone else.

Tsireya swims closer, a frown on her face. She holds your elbow endearingly, You are just like everyone else.

Yeah, you are. Neteyam does the same, swimming closer. You are Na'vi.

We are Na'vi. Lo'ak signs.

Though we are all different, we are all Eywa's children. Kiri signs. It doesn't matter in what way we are different, my fingers, our blood, your hearing...

Lo'ak's eyebrows... Neteyam signs. Said eyebrows furrow at the teasing. Lo'ak retaliates by squeezing Neteyam's exposed neck, as his brother always does to him. Neteyam pushes him away.

You guys, you all understand. You smile, I'm so sorry that the Metkayina treat you differently.

Lo'ak shakes his head, If it is something we must teach them, we'll make them learn. He smiles, So long as we have great teachers like you and Tsireya to back us up, right?

You roll your eyes–he thinks it's endearing–at him but nod. We'll teach them that we're all the same.

Tomorrow will be a good day for that. Tsireya signs, Let's not forget we are celebrating your first Iknimaya trial.

Fyìp does an encouraging twirl that makes everyone smile.

To tomorrow. You sign.

[doobea]

DAYTIME SHOOTING STAR - REO MIKAGE

synopsis: Being a college student sucks. Having a crush on your best friend also sucks. Your best friend having a crush on your other best friend is . . . kinda the worst. In which, Reo is hopelessly in love with you but you’re hard crushing on Nagi.

-> MASTERLIST. -> PLAYLIST.

contents: second lead syndrome feat. fem!reader & reo, heavy narration in the beginning as per usual whoops, also in an au where bluelock never happened LOL, summer festival arc, unnamed love interest for nagi, a little wink wink at the end, no more angst i promise!! word count: 4K a/n: omg im slowly getting back into the writing groove but man life has been something else ;-; sorry for the long wait friends but here is the second to last part hehe

ALTAIR -> prev. -> next.

“You should’ve tied it first before putting it up,” Reo says before handing you a brush.

Reo’s hair always looks well-kept, unlike the disheveled mess of Nagi’s, and definitely not like the nest of your current hair. There are maybe at least eight bobby pins in your hair right now that are struggling to keep themselves in place as you manage to tangle your locks into a twisted bun. And, now looking closer into the vanity, your makeup looks almost too gaudy, and cheap.

“No shit,” You cringe at how defensive you sound as you take the brush from him. Reo flinches just slightly as your fingers make quick contact but levels himself out again soon as they disappear.

There’s hardly ever tension between you and Reo. You two have always been the closest and the only time where you did have an argument was over something stupidly mundane. 

It’s been almost two weeks since his ‘proposition’ and you haven’t said or done anything in that regard. Nagi had suggested going to the summer festival to lighten the mood. He even added later on that he might invite the girl he’s been interested in. You still don’t know how to exactly feel about that. Needless to say, a group activity might lessen some of the tension if you weren’t fussing over your outfit for tonight.

Summer festivals weren’t a thing for you growing up, but you’d gotten accustomed to the lifetime exposure via social media and live streams. You’ve only attended one back in middle school but it was a small local festival, maybe the size of three blocks. The one tonight is apparently the biggest one around the area, students around campus have been raving about it since last month and have already flaunted their traditional outfits online. 

You’re starting to second-guess yourself. Your hair, makeup, the color of the yukata—all of it is starting to clash together.

You start removing the bobby pins and grab a brush, tugging at your stands in frustration.

“Hey, you’re going to give yourself split ends if you do that,” Reo chastises, his tone gentle. Then a sudden realization that he has always been gentle when it comes to you. He holds out his hand again, as if he’s expecting you to return the brush.

So you do. 

“Sorry,” You watch as Reo pulls up a chair behind you.

Silently, he begins to work on your hair, combing from the bottom up. He takes the time to brush out each knot without tugging at your scalp. You take this time to distract yourself by going on your phone and eyeing everyone’s outfits for tonight. 

Bachira posted his yukata about an hour ago with Isagi, Chigiri, and Kunigami mingling in the background. The caption read: #readyforparisfashionweek #groupgoals. It’s his usual selfie pose, a cheeky tongue out accompanied by a peace sign, while the rest of the group seemed to be walking towards the festival grounds with popsicles in hand. It’s a cute photo and it makes you wonder if you’re able to post something similar later tonight, maybe without all the weird feelings fluttering around in your mind. 

Suddenly, you feel a sharp pinch. 

“Ow!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Reo pauses and sets the brush down on the vanity. Yeah, your hair is super tangled. 

You look up from your phone, only to meet his eyes in the mirror and, for some reason, this makes you want to hide. 

“No, it’s okay,” You reply lamely and snap your head back to your lap. To be fair, if you had done this yourself most of your hair would’ve left your scalp.

Reo picks up the brush again and, by the time you’re done scrolling through your front page, he’s combed through most of the the tangles, now producing long strokes through your locks. At some point, he abandons the brush and replaces it with his own fingers. You can feel his blunt nails and digits rake against your skin and something about how he drags from the crown of your head to the nape of your neck makes you uncomfortably warm and drowsy. Warm like when your mother would used to scold you for missing a mark on an exam and drowsy like how your body would decompress in bed after a long day out.

“You tired?” Reo gives your shoulder a few squeezes and you jolt in response.

“No,” You’re quick to deny and rub your eyes to shake away any hint of evidence. There’s no way you plan to sleep the night away. “I still need to plan the rest of my outfit.” You ball your fists into the fabric of your yukata and hear Reo breathe out from behind.

“Hey.” 

Reo rolls his chair back enough to view your outfit from the vanity and puts both of his hands up in front of him, his fingers making a makeshift photo frame with you in the center of it. His lips finally crack a smile, probably a genuine one throughout this whole weird side-stepping period that you two created, and pretends to take a picture. 

“I know you probably don’t care but,” and this time he actually pulls out his phone to snap a photo, ignoring the small sound of protest from you. “I think you look good the way you currently are.”

Your eyes are downcast again, and you feel the need to avoid his gaze because… because what? He’s making you nervous? Or that you feel weirdly guilty about something? You still haven’t brought up the bracelet to Reo but why would you? Maybe there’s a small part of you that’s afraid of something being there. And is that something supposed to be there to begin with?

“Thanks…” You say eventually.

The summer festival is infinitely larger in the city than the one you experienced back home, and the pictures on social media doesn’t capture its full widescale vibrancy. The main road to their university is closed off for the festival, and the usual vehicle-packed two-lane road is now flipped into a row of street food vendors and local artisans. There’s a constant drumming sound and chanting echoing in the background, growing louder and louder the further you go in since the main road leads to an old shrine up the side of a small mountain. Even with all of the traffic of couples, families, and students alike, it feels intimately smaller here compared to the countryside.

“Should we head to the taiyaki vendor? I’ve heard that the guy who makes them is a top private chef,” Nagi’s date—you think her name is Nanako—is clinging onto Nagi’s arm and pointing in the direction where you vaguely see a line slowly wrapping around the block. Guess the taiyaki man is popular.

Nagi shrugs, not in an uncaring manner, but in a way where it can be read as ‘I’m happy with whatever you decide’ type of way. It’s weird seeing him like this, especially since you’ve been by his side for the past four years. 

And the girl, Nanako, she’s everything that a guy could possibly ask for. Aside from her flawless skin and cute voice, she’s been nothing but kind and generous towards you and Reo throughout the evening. The Hermes gift baskets were one thing (seriously, how did Nagi manage to find an heiress of all people?) but the fact she said she wanted to get to know you better and suggested a one-on-one brunch next weekend is another story. She’s nice, helpful, and recently found out that she’s even trilingual with the way she helped out three separate tourists on the way here. 

You feel silly for thinking you could possibly be better. You can’t even bring yourself to hate her.

“Actually,” Reo speaks up, there’s a tinge of playfulness in his voice as he starts to guide you by the shoulders towards the opposite direction. “I think we’re gonna check out the steamed buns at a different stall, but we’ll meet up later for the fireworks, yeah?”

Nanako blinks while Nagi simply nods. 

“Sure, let us know,” Nagi waves you two off and you fight off the urge to pinch Reo in the arm.

“What was that about?” You loudly whisper to him once out of earshot from the couple.

Reo pinches the bridge of his nose and scoffs. “I’m doing you a favor.”

“I would’ve been fine,” Your elbow makes an impact on his ribcage. “Now she’s going to think I’m weird.”

“Since when did you care so much about his date?” The word date makes your stomach physically flip on its side. 

“I don’t care about his date,” You turn away from Reo, now refocusing your attention back on the festival and inhaling the savory scents from the bun vendor in front of you. There’s no line so that’s good, you’ve been saving your stomach all day for this. “I only care about making a good first impression, that’s all.”

“Then don’t force yourself to do things you’re uncomfortable with,” and you hate the face that you make in response to that because he’s looking at you with an ‘I told you so’ smirk. You wonder if Reo knows how stupid he looks with that expression, along with his stupid perfectly fitted yukata, with his dumb shiny sandals, his well-tied back hair, and—

“Two steamed buns?” The vendor calls out beside you.

“Yes, please,” Reo slips past you and hands over the man more change than needed. He’s always been generous, especially when it comes to local businesses. “One red bean and one custard.”

The two of you don’t speak again until you manage to find an empty bench by a long staircase at the base of a hill. Your hands are both stuffed with boba, giant fried squid on a stick (Reo claims it’s the best in town), a takeout container filled to the brim with takoyaki, and steamed buns. One thing you will say about the festival is that city prices are nearly triple the prices you would see back home. Seriously, it should be a crime to charge 1500 ¥ for a dozen takoyaki balls. But who are you complaining? Reo’s been paying for everything tonight anyway. 

“So, how is it?” Reo watches you closely as you take a bite out of the fried squid. It’s annoying, seeing how his eyes widen with every chew and movement you make, and you could’ve sworn he held onto his damn breath as you swallowed. 

But he’s right. It’s really, really good. Though, you can’t let him have all the satisfaction tonight, right? 

“The ones back home might be better,” You say with a fake pout and you almost break character from the way his eyebrows contort in confusion. You take another bite, and another, before saying, “Maybe I should bring you guys there sometime. Doubt you’ll survive on farmland, though.”

“I did boy scouts when I was younger, I think I’ll be fine.” He replies, simple and overly confident in tone.

Reo? Out in the wild? Willingly as a child? Yeah, sure. 

“Don’t give me that look.”

You take another bite from the squid. “What look?”

He stares blankly. “You think I’m incapable out in the woods? That I depend on civilization too much?”

“Oh,” You roll your eyes, didn’t expect him to get so touchy on the subject. Maybe Reo secretly wants to prove to you and everyone else that he can do everything without feeling the need to rely on his privileged background. 

You nudge your shoulders towards the shrine on top of the wooded hill, its stone stairs dimly lit by warm lighting from the paper lanterns on each side of the steps. You don’t need to say anything to let Reo know that you’re challenging him. The ‘hide and seek’ part is implied. One thing about Reo is that he’s stubborn, so of course he’s going to say yes in order to prove a point that he might fail. But isn’t that what makes him fun to be around?

“Race you?”

He finishes his drink before standing up, clutching the rest of the leftovers in one hand as he extends out the other to you. “You’re going to hurt yourself if you race against me, dummy.”

“I can be athletic like you, too,” but you take his hand anyway. Somehow, it fits nicely against yours.

“You can say that if you win.” Reo laughs. 

“Which I will, by the way.” You shoot back. 

Reo gently tugs you close to his side, weaving through the crowds and towards the steep steps leading up to the shrine. He throws you a smile, one that you can’t tell if it’s filled with some truth or dramatic for the sake of being dramatic. “Little do you know, I always win.”

You hate how he’s always right. 

How many times has he been right today? Probably one too many for your liking.

“Still having trouble finding me?” You hear his teasing voice in the shadows behind the trees…no—wait, maybe he’s behind the shrine instead? Ugh, it sucks how his purple yukata also blends perfectly in the night too.

“No, my eyes are just adjusting to the dark.” You reply back.

“Pfft, you said that like five minutes ago.” His voice is clear, he’s definitely near you. 

You tiptoe around a few tree roots, searching behind the large bush in front of you, only to be disappointed when it’s empty. “Yeah, well, they take a while to adjust.” 

God, he can be so annoying when he wants to be. 

A distant roar of thunder interrupts your and Reo's banter as you continue your unsuccessful hunt. The sky darkens, and raindrops begin to fall, increasing in severity gradually before completely blurring the already dark surroundings.

“Well, this is just great,” you mumble.

Reo finally emerges from the shadows, that being a tree a few feet away, hands over his head in a last-minute attempt to keep himself dry. “Looks like we'll have to take shelter,” he says, motioning his head toward the shrine. 

You both start running towards its small wooden flight of stairs, evading developing puddles and screaming as the rain soaks you to the bone.

The wooden frames and panels from the building provide some needed shelter, but the storm is relentless. The air inside is warm, humid, and damp, the scent of ancient wood fills the space. You and Reo catch your breaths, both of you overlooking the hazy festival grounds from the entrance. Unlike your situation, at least the people below have actual tents and umbrellas. 

“Well, at least we're not wet anymore,” Reo says, glancing around the room. 

The sound of rain hitting the roof echoes through the empty space. The dim light from the lanterns cast shadows on Reo's face, giving his features a softened appearance. You slowly find yourself eyeing the way his wet hair clings to his forehead and the way his yukata sticks to his frame. 

Weird, everything today has been so fucking weird. Why are you sending your best friend goggling eyes right now when you should be feeling distraught that your crush is probably sucking his date’s face off. Actually… maybe don’t think about that.

“So, what now?” you ask, mainly rhetorically. The storm isn’t showing any signs of letting up anytime soon and you briefly spot the leftovers from earlier just outside of the shrine’s steps. You quickly rush out to grab them.

“Well,” Reo’s voice cuts through the rhythmic pounding from the rain and finds a dry corner to settle down. He pats at the empty spot next to him and closes his eyes. “Wanna talk about it?”

And this is the main thing you wanted to avoid all month. 

You want to say no but, since you're such an expert in 'Reo-speak' and 'Reo-body language’ for today, you can tell with one look in his eyes that he's not taking 'no' as an answer. 

"It's been difficult," You admit, allowing yourself to plop down next to him, shoulders briefly touching. “I’m sorry if things have been tense between us, I honestly didn’t know what to say or make of it.”

"I know," Reo replies, slowly as if he's hesitating to continue the conversation that he brought up. 

Reo shuffles closer and eyes the large bell in front of him. “I should be the one saying sorry. That was dumb for me to even suggest that.” His teeth clenches around the sentence and he can’t keep up his usual sarcastic tone and his voice drops, sounding gentle and almost self-loathing. 

He’s done an expert job at keeping a distance within the past two weeks. Only really reaching out if Nagi felt too lazy to contact you himself, but even that was at a bare minimum. There’s a part of you that wants to understand and question the imaginary meaning of your friendship, whether he meant anything by it. The idea of him actually having feelings and shifting the dynamic even further is a thought you’ve been entertaining since the start of the day.

“It wasn’t that dumb,” You attempt to eat some of the leftover takoyaki, only to realize that most of them have already fallen apart from being soaked. “Ugh—I mean I appreciate the sentiment and I guess it did work…” 

“Don’t eat that,” he places a hand over yours as you attempt to go in for another bite. His hand feels oddly warm and comforting. “You’re going to get sick.” 

“And you’re not always in charge of me,” though you eventually do follow his suggestion. There’s absolutely no chance for you to feel remotely satisfied from a soggy, cold meal in this predicament. 

“You should at least take care of yourself.”

“Ok, I take it back, maybe you suck at distracting me.” 

You end up pushing the rest of the food to the side and resting your chin on top of your tucked knees. There’s a long moment of silence you both allow to pass before your internal monologue shifts into overdrive.

“I’m—I’m an idiot too, Reo. I feel gross with myself.”

Reo remains quiet, waiting for you to continue, and you find solace in the silence. You're not sure where this conversation is heading, but it feels like a long-overdue reckoning.

"I mean, I don't even know why I feel weird about it. Nagi's a good guy, and Nanako seems great. They're happy, and that should be enough, right?" You release a heavy sigh, trying to articulate the tangled mess of emotions.

Reo shifts beside you, his gaze focused on the raindrops sliding down the shrine's entrance. "Jealousy?"

The word hangs in the air, and you hesitate before nodding. "Yeah, maybe. I shouldn't be, and I hate admitting it, but I am. It's just so stupid."

"Feelings aren't stupid," Reo says softly. "They're just... complicated. And it's okay to feel jealous. Happens to me all the time." The last bit is barely audible but you manage to pick it up. 

Your eyes lazily drift to his wet frame again. Anyone who’s soaked head to toe in this muggy weather with shoes covered in a gritty mixture of dirt and tiny pebbles should look gross. His small ponytail had come undone some time ago, and the black tank top underneath him is now slightly peeking through from the faint dim lighting provided by the remaining lanterns. You’re positive that you look like a mess, and that any regular person would also look like a mess, and yet here is he looking like some kind of pulse-quickening, smoke show of a train wreck you couldn’t look away. 

The sound of the next thunder rumbling fills the silence between you two. 

Then, Reo calls out your name. The way he says it is completely different. His voice is deeper, your name falls through his lips rapidly and sharply. It sounds nothing like the way Nagi would say it, dragged out and elongated. You’re usually no good with picking up symbolism all too well but you’re not that dense. It doesn’t take an idiot to figure out that there’s something in Reo’s tone that makes the purposiveness of your name painfully obvious. 

It comes slowly but you find yourself relishing in it when his hand reaches forward, brushing away some of the wet strands sticking around your face. “You shouldn’t have to compare yourself to anyone,” Reo tucks a few locks behind your ear before pulling away. 

“Sometimes it’s difficult not to,” you swallow the growing knot down your throat and sink further against the ground. 

“Hey, look at me for a second,” Reo calls out. 

He caresses your face once more, this time with a different intention. His palm rests heavily on your cheek and Reo tilts your chin upwards. His eyes pierce directly into yours and… you can’t tear yourself away. The scarce lighting is able to make out the soft redness on his face and you find yourself pressing your face against his touch again. 

Your arms hesitantly entangle themselves around his neck, watching closely as his Adam’s apple bobs at your slightest movements. You also take this moment to realize that he smells really good. Leather, cardamom, and hints of vanilla. It’s some expensive brand by Tom Ford, a cologne you remembered him receiving from his parents during his high school graduation party. The rain and muggy summer air only amplified the scent but you didn’t mind it. 

Reo tangles his fingers into your hair and leans in, pressing his lips to the temple of your head. He breathes out of your name and you can feel his body shift, almost rocking side to side. You note that Reo always does that when he’s extremely nervous. 

At some point, his lips move down and hover over yours, barely millimeters apart. You try not to think too much of your own painfully disheveled state, or the fact that you’re still fucking confused about what’s happening right now. Is anything of this supposed to be okay?

Fuck it. 

Your arms tug Reo’s head forward enough to close the gap and your lips meet in the same kind of fast-forward, slow-motion feeling that you always see in those cheesy romance movies growing up. Reo’s lips feel far smoother and fuller than it has any right to be and you’re fairly certain that the faint citrus taste is from the chapstick he always carries. You’re becoming hyperaware of everything going on — from the heavy breathing from both ends of the party, to his silky, damp hair tickling your hands, down to the rapid pulse hammering against your chest and neck. 

A quiet noise of approval spills from you and Reo pulls you closer, his hands now find residency around your waist and back to prevent you from stumbling over, almost to remind you that he’s your anchor.

Eventually, you finally break for some air. 

As you gasp for breath, Reo leans his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily in the humid air of the shrine. You can see the reflection of his eyes, dark and intense, studying your face as if searching for answers.

Reo pulls back slightly, his hand still resting around. "I like you. I like you for the past few years now and I don’t want to hide that anymore.”

The fact that your body is still halfway pulled into his lap melts away every ounce of apprehension from your bones. This is not a dream. This is very much real. 

For a brief moment, you wonder if it’s worth bringing up questions of when and why. Your background doesn’t exactly fit into the Mikage’s standards of high luxury and... again, is this even okay? 

Just when you’re starting to process the weight of Reo’s words, the sliding doors fly open and an all too familiar voice cuts through the air. 

Nagi appears at the entrance, his eyes widening as he takes in the scene. “Am I interrupting something?”

TAGLIST - OPEN

@celestair @kitorin @popponn @yoisami @anurst @katsukiiishoe @yuzurins @vitaniangel-blog @kunikame @miwafei @astruoise @faeroow @wooasecret @limerence-lu @jaynawayna @iloveblogging2 @futuristicxie @rinlvr @au-ghosttype @wavetokio @yuusami @phtogravi @funnibunneh @idontevenknow129

[imagining-in-the-margins]

CM Office Party Challenge 🎉

The following are prompts including an Office Party! Reader, Original Character, Character/Character ships, Gen/Platonic fics are allowed!

This event is over (Masterlist of Fics here), but you are welcome to use any of these prompts. If you would like to be added to the existing Masterlist of entries, please check out the Rules below!

🎊 Prompts 🎊

It’s a BAU kid’s birthday!

The BAU throws a ridiculously large/lavish bridal/baby shower.

It’s rare that the BAU gets to celebrate the return of an old team member.

The team hardly believes it when Character A agrees to dance with B.

After sharing sad prom stories (or lack thereof), Penelope throws a BAU prom.

It’s characters first Missed Holiday Meal (MHM). It’s also the first time a holiday meal actually felt like home.

The team discusses holiday traditions. Characters decide to try a few out.

The FBI is throwing a family picnic. The playful competitions get a little… heated.

It’s the anniversary of the BAU. The team throws a party to celebrate the greats.

Penelope planned a Murder Mystery party… with a bunch of criminal profilers. Great. (Bonus if a non-profiler wins)

The BAU has been dealing with a lot of stress. Penelope plans a day at a pottery shop so everyone can make something. It causes even more stress.

The team pairs up to play the newlywed game. Someone starts to notice that, despite not being partners, A knows the answers to every question about B…

Rossi is finally (actually) retiring. The party brings together friends that haven’t seen each other in years.

An anniversary/award brings back old team members. There used to be a time when they couldn’t fathom a week away from one another, but they haven’t spoken in years.

More Prompts Below + Create your own! 🎉

Each team member has to find an obscure holiday to celebrate (pi day, random acts of kindness day, unicorn day, etc.). Character goes above and beyond.

Character has very surprising responses to Never Have I Ever. They have even more shocking admissions.

There is nothing that a bonfire can't fix.

Characters are stuck at a party, but they can't stop thinking about each other (based on "Dinner & Diatribes" by Hozier).

Characters always find each other. Even at a masquerade, when their faces are almost entirely covered.

A party is the perfect place to see a new side to your coworker.

🎄 Holiday Specific Prompts 🦃

Halloween prompts / Winter Holiday prompts

It’s time for Penelope’s Halloween Party! Someone comes in an… unexpected costume.

The single members of the team decide to host a lonely hearts club dinner on Valentine’s Day. Two people leave together.

Characters end up beneath very suspiciously placed mistletoe at the holiday party.

Character accidentally started an ugly Christmas sweater tradition which somehow turned into a contest.

After an awful case, the team comes back on Christmas Eve to find that Penelope has gathered their loved ones and quickly decorated the BAU as a surprise.

Character only wanted to reveal that they are someone's Secret Santa at the BAU Christmas Party but they end up confessing a lot more than that.

🎂 Dialogue Prompts 🍰

"... Surprise?"

"What are adults supposed to do at a kid's birthday party. Does anyone actually know?"

"Whatever you do, be sure to avoid the food. I don't know who made it, but it's awful." "Oh, it uh... it was me."

"If you help me win, I'll owe you one great big giant favor."

"I just never saw you as a... party type of person."

"I think you're bluffing." "Am I?"

"You are the last person I expected to have attended clown school. I figured your clownish nature was inherent in who you are."

"So, if you had to guess, who do you think is going to drunkenly confess their love for someone else at this party?"

"The year is over. Did you accomplish everything you hoped for?"

"I fucking hate balloons."

"What's the point of a fridge on the jet if not for a celebratory drink?"

"If we're stuck here all night, we might as well have fun."

"I love you. I do. But you are a terrible Santa."

"Next time, I'm in charge of the karaoke mic."

🎈Rules 🎁

The fic can be a Reader insert, an Original Character, a character/character ship, a platonic ship, or a Gen fic. It can feature any Criminal Minds character. AUs and crossovers are more than welcome.

Tag me in the fic, or send the link to me in a Direct Message. It can be already written, or you can write it for the challenge - I’m collecting both! You can also tag it “#mentioningmargins” which is a tag I track.

The fic can be any genre, but ONLY send me smut if your bio states you are 18+. I DO NOT WANT smut written by minors. Ever. At all. I will check. Platonic ships and pure, fluffy fics are 100% allowed.

Please include Content Warnings and a one-sentence Summary of the fic in your post.

[heartfullofleeches]

There once was a Witch

Perfect Sweet Revisted Teaser

A teaser for an upcoming fic involving a Candy Witch (Gender Neutral) Reader and Yandere Candy Land. Enjoy-

-

There once was a witch.

The first of her kind.

“A candy witch? What a silly idea!” 

 She was sure to disagree. 

“It’s my magic. Shouldn’t I have a say in its use? If I can’t do for myself first, I haven’t the heart to do a thing for anyone at all!” 

The witchling was the youngest in a lineage of powerful witches dating back to the founding days of their cozy little town. Her mother was the town healer in her prime and her mother’s great-grandmother fertilized the ground for which their town was built upon. The little witch had big shoes to fill, but neither fret nor shied away from what fate had decided. No – she outright rejected it , and sought to fill her dreams and goals much closer to home - right in the pit of her bottomless stomach. 

If the girl had one claim to fame before her prime, it had to be her enormous sweet tooth. She started her days with two spoonfuls of sugar, and three more by noon. She was not tied to the restriction of the human diet and did as she pleased to satisfy her endless craving. 

“Even tragedy can be sweet if it’s paired with the right treat.” – A saying she swore to remain true to, but behind closed doors the little witch could not carry her own words to heart. As the days of her coronation drew near, she became aware of the whispers around town – how self and cruel she was for abandoning tradition and her people. The kind faces she’d known all her years slowly turned spiteful and bitter – spurning her ambitions, and her turning her back on the community that raised her. The young witch wore a brave face, but behind closed doors she was not as bold as she seemed. She cried and cried, swallowing sugar and honey to ease her pain.

Due to constant ridicule and mockery, the little witch would have given up on everything had it not been for that one person.

On the eve of a new moon, there was a knock at her window. The young child of the town baker came to her with a task capable for her talents alone. With an influx of orders their parents had forgotten to bake a cake for their child’s birthday. Used to the treatment they did not wish to go another year without celebration and fled in the dead of night to the only source who could aid in their troubling times. 

The little witch could hardly hide her annoyance. Lack of a party was one thing, but no celebratory desserts to make up for it? No cake? Pie? Not even sweet bread? What fools the human had the misfortune of calling their parents. Could their kind do nothing without the help of hers? 

Against her own volition, she acted from the kindest of her heart and sought to fulfill their desperate plea. The little witch brought the young baker into her home, and through the night the two created the most extravagant birthday cake the baker nor anyone in town had ever seen. The excitement they expressed wasn’t held by them alone. The little witch had more fun baking with them than she ever had with a member of her blood. The gratitude and joy on the human’s face was something she had never seen before. Something strange. It made her feel odd. They must have slipped poison into her dish, but even that didn’t seem right. 

They treated her as a lifelong friend though their alliance began that very night where it should have ended. Being with that human gave her a toothache unlike any sugary treat could. As their bond grew, the witch would gradually learn that what she tasted that fateful eve was the start of something true. That human cracked the icy cage sheltering her fragile heart and woke her to new desires. 

She wanted to see them smile again. She wanted to make others happy in hopes it’d give her that same strange feeling in her stomach again. She’d never feel that exact  spark from anyone besides her new found friend, but the warmth in her chest was powerful to keep her newfound goals onward. 

The little witch and the baker’s child were inseparable from that day on. The pair grew as one - perfecting the recipes passed down to the young baker and adding a few of their own to the mix. They shared their creations with the town to prove the witch’s dreams were true as any other. Many still opposed, but they could not turn a blind eye to the duo’s efforts. The day of her awakening came and the young witch remained true to her heart – supported by her dearest friend who created an entire buffet of sweets to celebrate their second happiest day together.

Balancing magic and her culinary skills, the then adult witch unlocked feats far beyond that of her ancestors. A witch’s heart was their most powerful tool, and hers was filled with the love she held for sweets, her town, and the baker who changed everything for her. They flourished right alongside her into a kind, strong hearted individual, and later took over their parents' bakery as was tradition in their family. Just as she owed her success to them, they could do little without the aid of their favorite witch and invited her to take ownership with them. She’d be a fool to refuse their offer.

Perfecting her craft in all corners, the witch discovered what wonders her sweets could truly possess with a sprinkle of magic – some more groundbreaking than others, but nonetheless spectacular. Cupcakes that turn hair the same color as their frosting. Hard candies that could cure most illnesses. Cookies that would grant the eater’s truest wish with a single bite. She created an entire house made of sugar and sweetness for her and her dearest friend to live in. The townspeople who relied on the witch’s magic were amazed by the fruit of her hard labor, and the baker couldn’t be prouder which made the witch happier beyond compare. They noticed how hard she worked and only wished there was more they could do for her. The demands of the people piled in by the day, and though she wore a smile everyday they could see the cracks. The witch merely laughed off their worries, and carried on as usual. 

She was happy. They were happy. Everyone in the whole town was happy – but the happy days wouldn’t last forever unless the baker did something to aid the woman they loved. 

Rumors floated around town of normal humans becoming powerful witches over time. They say it only took a brave heart, a dedicated mind, and a wish. What people didn’t was that there was a fourth element involved. The second most important in a witch’s survival.

A strong body.

The baker pleaded with the witch to allow them to learn magic beside her. She had never been able to say no to them. The baker was a natural. Once she deemed them ready to practice, the human would master spells even she had difficulty with. It was no surprise to her considering their passions were one in the same, and if anyone was truer to their ambitions than her it was them. Together, the two were unstoppable. Untouchable. They worked off each other’s weaknesses and knew the other better than they knew themselves.

Which is why the witch was the first to notice. 

It began with a cough. The weather had grown quite chilly so neither thought much of it. A few of the witch’s homemade remedies and they felt good as new. Then - they began sleeping in. They went under spells of fatigue from the littlest tasks. Soon enough, they couldn’t even hold a spoon. 

The witch tried every spell in the book to save them. She took on the manning the shop alone so they were able to rest. It was the loneliest she had felt in years, but she’d do anything to save the human she loved. In the end, it was all for nothing. 

They died in their sleep while she was away from home – fulfilling the wishes of others while hers died alone at home.

The witch did everything she could.

She cried.

She begged.

She ate till her stomach felt like it was going to burst. 

To ease the pain, to bring them back - but even she could not raise the dead.

The cookies she shoved down her throat tasted bland and stale. Nothing was sweeter than the kisses the baker placed to her cheek every morning. She never got to tell them. She never had the chance to express her true feelings.

The witch screamed. 

Tore her hair out and cursed whatever horrible force that bound her to this fate. Made her weak. 

Please….

She cried over and over. 

Take me instead.

Don’t leave me here all alone.

 I can’t do this without you.

You said you’d never leave me.

Why?...

Please…

DON’T LEAVE ME! 

The townspeople gave her time to grief. It was the only mercy they gave. The knocking began. Their whispers slipped beneath her door. They asked her for more. She’d given them everything. Her heart, her love, her sweet, foolish baker- yet they still wanted more.

Selfish.

Greedy.

Cruel.

That’s all their kind had ever been. They took and took until there was nothing left. No… There was still one thing. She wasn’t going to let them take the shattered pieces. She refused to let them walk over her as they had trampled those before her. She’d take back everything they stole and more. She’d create a world catered to her desires. A place made of cinnamon and sugar, with subjects molded from the same ingredients and just as sweet. Creations who’d love and obey her for the rest of eternity. What the witch didn’t know…

Was they’d betray her worst of all. 

.

.

.

“Alright…. I think that’s enough for one year….”

“Awww.. but we nearly reached the end this time, didn’t we?”

“Yes, but – are you really sure this is something you want to hear on your birthday? It’s a pretty tale…” 

“Of course! I want to know everything about you, Sweets. Even old fairy tales in older, duster cookbooks.” 

“Hahaha, Fine….. Stay with me another year and we’ll finish it – I promise.”

“Better wish real hard then…. Who knows how many we have left.” 

.

.

.

“Help me…..”

…

“Help!” 

[gojhoes]

a study in gojo's upbringing

notes: this whole fic is a trigger warning: death of a parent, c.a. wc: 2.1k

i have so many hcs and since we have nothing i decided to make something

satoru had never been a gentle child. even during gestation he gave his mother hell, plaguing her with chronic backaches and debilitating nausea. she could hardly stomach any food, leaving her bed-ridden and exhausted. the pregnancy weakened her body significantly; this young, promising sorcerer was reduced to a shell of who she once was. after more than 26 hours of excruciating labor, satoru's mother unfortunately lost her life in exchange for his.

his father despised him for it and never hesitated to express his distaste for satoru's survival. itsuki gojo never held his son even when he stood beside his wife's deathbed as satoru screamed relentlessly in the wetnurse's arms. despite the tragedy, one thing held true. when satoru opened his eyes for the first time, they glowed a crystalline blue- the gojo family had once again been blessed with the gift of the Six Eyes.

while his relatives mourned and breathed their sighs of relief, other sorcerers toasted to satoru's birth. members of the other prominent clans showered the family with gifts and well-wishes. people were desperate to get a look at satoru, to gaze upon the rarity that was the Six Eyes. the world seemed to center around this motherless white-haired baby boy whose father resented his sheer existence.

itsuki gojo saw his son as a killer. this tiny little blue-eyed boy was unloved by his father because, in his eyes, satoru had taken her away from him. he lost his wife and gained a powerful position in a family he had no love for. this mental instability paired with such a sudden increase of power was a deadly combination. his moods were often fickle and he was generally unpleasant to be around. itsuki was protected only by tradition, but that’s not to say that the family respected him. his neglect of satoru was no secret.

itsuki gojo had been dead last in the line of succession for becoming head of the family. he had married into the family and his wife had been the last grandchild born to the youngest son of the current head. he had zero hope of ever climbing to the top, not to mention the death of his wife, which had brought shame to his branch of the family. regardless of the clan's resistance to itsuki, satoru's gift made him the head when he came of age. until then, however, his father would be the one to do the job in his place. this meant that satoru seldom saw him save for at family dinners or when the gojos would host important officials in their home. satoru did not see the man as his father, only knowing him as such because that's what everyone told him.

the world began to change rapidly with the birth of satoru gojo. the Six Eyes was a flaming target on his back, not only for curses but for other threats as well. his head fetched a high price in the darker places of the jujutsu world which seemed only to increase as the years passed. satoru was placed under constant supervision for the first five years of his life, per his father's orders. it was less that itsuki cared for the wellbeing of his son and more that his position depended on satoru's survival.

his position as head of the clan was at stake if satoru didn't present with the Limitless technique. of course, the Six Eyes was a powerful gift by itself, but the family was eager to see whether had inherited both the techniques. the whole clan held its breath as satoru's infancy and early childhood crept on by. it had been 400 years since a gojo had been born with both the Limitless and the Six Eyes. it would make satoru the strongest sorcerer alive; his power would be unparalleled by anyone.

if his son didn't receive those traits, itsuki's position as head could be jeopardized from the disappointment. not to mention the amount of enemies he already had in other branches of the family. they saw him as an outsider and he was not a pleasant man to be around. tradition was the only thing keeping him in charge. it would shame him further, and this fear of rejection brewed into an obsession with satoru once he turned four.

on his fourth birthday, satoru's father asked his aunt kaede to bring him to his office. satoru thought it was strange; his father never asked to see him. itsuki was desperate to see whether his son would present with the Limitless. he brought gifts and sweets for satoru and ask him all sorts of funny questions, a lot of which made him laugh. satoru started looking forward to these visits, always accompanied by his aunt kaede.

satoru was cared for almost exclusively by his aunt, who, unbeknownst to him, was a spitting image of his mother. she thought of him as her own, and had spent every moment of the pregnancy by her sister's side as she grew consistently sicker and weaker. she wept every night after putting satoru to bed, screaming at the sky until her throat hurt, wondering why the world had taken her sister away.

the jujutsu world was cruel, deadly, and unforgiving. the price of strength and success as a sorcerer was often one's morality, and while satoru had a tendency to stir up trouble, not once had he ever felt the need to delve into the dark. he credited this to the promise he made his aunt kaede. "be strong for me."

satoru's 5th birthday came and went, making him the prime age for technique presentation. his father still interacted with him, so much so that satoru began to warm up to him a bit. he didn't know that itsuki was giving him the attention because he was studying the boy, not because he loved him.

when satoru was almost six years old, the Limitless technique hadn't even suggested that it would befall him. visits with his father had become more and more frequent, but they were different from before. there were no snacks or playful questions, just silence as his father walked circles around him after telling him to stand still. it was confusing, and satoru realized that his father never smiled at him. it was the beginning of the end, as satoru would understand later.

there was one time in particular that satoru would never be able to forget. his father called him down to his office like usual, but when he got there, the man was livid. kaede waited by the door as always, never to speak, only to watch over satoru because she didn't trust the man with the boy she saw as her own son. but satoru's father began yelling, red-faced and angry, demanding to know why he didn't have a technique. itsuki accused his five-year-old son of keeping his presentation a secret and when satoru tried to defend himself, his father struck the side of his face with his fist.

aside from medical exceptions, the pain tolerance of a child is not developed in the way as that of an adult's. satoru let out a scream as he crumpled to the floor. behind him, he heard a strangled cry escape from kaede, which only worked to frighten him further. tears blurred his vision as the pain seared through his cheek. worse than that, however, was the betrayal of his father. up until then, satoru had believed his father loved him in the way that a parent should. alongside the bruises on his body, the most painful ones were on his heart.

“get out,” his father seethed. the hatred in the man’s brown eyes was a sight that satoru would never be able to forget.

before he could even think to move, satoru was being swept up by kaede and rushed away to his room. he cried so hard that he couldn’t breathe as he clung to kaede as though she was the only thing tethering him to this earth. she settled him down on his bed and brought him an icepack while rubbing small, soothing circles on his back.

“you need stitches,” she said with a sad expression.

stitches? he’d never heard of that before, but the caution in kaede’s tone frightened him. even at a young age, satoru’s perception was impeccable.

“will it hurt?” he asked in a small voice.

aunt kaede shook her head. “we’ll numb you. don’t worry, satoru; you’re strong.”

that was the first time his father struck him. and kaede lied- the stitches hurt so badly that it made him cry again, but his aunt held him that night until he finally fell asleep.

no one could stop itsuki from abusing his son. kaede was forbidden to accompany satoru on the visits to his father’s office, which all ended the same as the last. gone were the days of his early childhood when he lived in ignorant bliss. he was completely and utterly helpless as itsuki stared at him, demanded he show his technique, and when he couldn’t, the boy received a blow.

“you’re weak,” his father said once after hitting him so hard that he nearly lost consciousness. “just like your mother.”

satoru began to plan his escape in secret, even hiding it from his aunt kaede. he was incredibly intelligent and it was shaping up to be a solid plan. it all came crashing down, however, when kaede told him she had to leave.

in lieu of his Six Eyes, satoru's keen sense of perception extended to the emotions of others. even at a young age, he was able to read people quite well. one night while she was putting him to bed, satoru noticed how sad his aunt looked and asked her what was wrong. kaede opened her mouth to respond only to burst into tears, scaring satoru so badly he almost did, too. his aunt, so kind and loving, broke down into pieces as she told him she was leaving.

satoru hated crying. even though he knew kaede wouldn't punish him for it, his instincts made him clam up as he fought back tears.

"it's going to be okay, satoru," she said, lowering herself onto the bed by his feet.

hurried, desperate words spilled out of him as the unshed tears stung his eyes. "why?" he cried. "why are you leaving me with him?" please, take me with you.

she reached over and placed a hand on the side of his cheek and smiled at him through her tears. "you are so strong. i love you, satoru. do you know that?"

satoru nodded as the floodgates burst and tears streamed down his face and dripped onto the comforter. she pulled him toward her and wrapped her arms around his small, shaking frame. "be strong for me, satoru." they stayed that way for a while as he sobbed into her shirt until she said she couldn't stay any longer.

she pulled the door behind her, and as it clicked shut, so did satoru's heart. he'd find out much later that it had been his father's doing; he sent her away because he believed that being in her care would make him into a weakling. to this day, satoru still doesn't know if she's alive or not.

his sixth birthday came at last, but it was not an event of celebration. the family had begun to look down on him as a disappointment, not bothering to care for him as kaede had. holding the Six Eyes was not enough, and itsuki had descended into true madness. just as usual, satoru was summoned to his father’s office, body trembling in preparation for what was coming.

“satoru,” said his father. “i am so disappointed in you.”

satoru was never allowed to speak unless his father asked him a direct question, so he stood there, shaking violently while itsuki circled him as usual. “you’re running out of time,” he said, and his voice took on that cold, lifeless tone it did when he was growing angry. satoru knew what that meant, and his body tensed all over. his throat began to tighten with the fear that always made unshed tears sting his eyes. he squeezed them shut, so afraid to show that he was about to cry-

but the pain didn’t come. instead, there was this feeling of static electricity prickling at the side of his face. satoru opens his eyes hesitantly, wondering what was happening, to see that his father’s hand stopped just half an inch from his cheek. he’s looked just in time to see the absolute shock on itsuki’s face.

his brown-eyed father clenched his jaw and let out an irritated grunt. “congratulations, son,” he said. “your life is about to get a whole lot worse.”

it’s the Limitless, satoru realized, and complete relief flooded through his body. tears of freedom, of salvation, of pure alleviation spilled down his face in streams as he let out a crazed laugh. he stared his father in his face as he said,

“you’ll never touch me again. and one day, i’m going to kill you.”

[rainba]

The sheep guy appears interesting, I do wonder what his relationship with Luka will be like given as you also said he considers him a 'friend' but it sounds like he also isn't much attached to him.

-🦊

It’s… A slightly odd but strong relationship! ^^;;;

When the two of them were growing up, they were two of the only hybrids around– so they naturally gravitated towards each other. In terms of personality, they’re opposites: Luka is more unemotional and unfeeling, statue-esc, cold. Meanwhile, Ram is very outgoing, he wears his heart on his sleeve, he’s very rash and can be a little intense at times. ( ´ ω ` )

Their dynamic is something like this: they’re on two ends of extremes, and each character has something that the other person wants.

Ram wants to be taken seriously by the world, but everybody only ever sees him as a joke. He’s almost considered to be a “pet” amongst his friends, which is really degrading. Ram tries to ignore it, but sometimes it overwhelms him, and he breaks down over it. Meanwhile, Luka gets respect from his peers, but hardly gets any enjoyment or gratification out of it. Luka partially wishes he could enjoy and experience the world like Ram does.

The two of them manage to understand each other deeply while also having little in common (personality wise.) ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Throughout the years, they’ve always stuck together, respecting one another no matter what happens. Ram understands that Luka doesn’t feel very ‘attached’ to him in the traditional sense, but he doesn’t harbor any ill feelings about it. He knows that Luka doesn’t actively choose to feel the way that he does. It’s… Just a fact of life. And Luka deeply appreciates it– because he’s aware that most people would look at him differently if they knew how he truly felt about everything.

So, fun fact! If Ram ever finds out that Luka is obsessed with you and actually feels things towards you, Ram will enable Luka to the max, and would help him 'get you' no matter what it takes. He would even help Luka kidnap you.

Ram is extremely loyal to a fault. And Luka is also loyal to Ram– they’ve stuck together through both thick and thin.

((Mr. Ram won’t have a route or anything, but I like to imagine he’s a yandere too, just bcs I think it’s funny. I can’t help but make all my characters yanderes to some extent. !!) ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡