#and I watched it with them and OH THE MEMORIES

[arizcross]

Things Danyal has said to his new family and some other interactions:

1.

Danyal, as casual as if talking about the weather: I can make you a new spleen if you want.

Tim, flaggerblasted: Whah-?! How?!

Danyal, calmly saying what he needs as he writes it down on a post-it: I’ll need a microwave, a cellphone and a gallon of lazarus water, maybe two since I have to cleanse it, oh, and some of your blood.

Tim, so very done with everything as he takes the post-it: Sure, why not.

2.

Alfred is driving Bruce somewhere out of Gotham so the siblings are alone in the city. Dick is in charge for the day.

Dick, answering an incoming call as he merrily drives to Gotham from Blüdhaven: Hey Danish, what’s up?

Danyal, slightly worried: Uhm, a was told to call you if Tim said anything about cooking?

Dick, alarmed and worried: Don’t let him near the stove! I’ll be there soon!

Danyal: Yes, Damian is trying to stop him. It is quite impressive how Tim is fighting back.

Dick, now even more alarmed and worried: Don’t let them fight in the kitchen!

Danyal: Too late, they found the japanese knives.

3.

Danyal, slightly disgusted but worried about his new older brother: You stink.

Jason, offended: And you’re fucking ugly.

4.

Danyal, looking at Duke while he eats cereal straight from the box: You know you’re not fully human, right?

Duke, eating his cereal because it’s his midnight snack: Neither you are.

Danyal, rising his mug of warm milk: Touché.

5.

Alfred’s first meeting with Danyal.

Alfred, looking at Danyal with wide open eyes and dropping what he was holding. He looks at Bruce expecting an explanation.

Bruce, pointing at Damian: This one Damian can explain.

Alfred then looks at Damian, one perfect british eyebrow up.

Damian, tightening his hold on Danyal’s hand: This all will be one more fond memory for the future, Pennyworth.

Alfred’s other eyebrow also rises in incredulity, the older man looking menacingly at the teen.

Danyal, whispering to Damian: I do not think that’s what he wanted to hear.

6.

Stephanie at Sunday breakfast: Alright D; Kiss, marry, kill. Your options are toast, Crepes and bagel, go!

Danyal: Kiss bagel, marry crepes and kill toast.

Duke: You don’t like toast?

Danyal: I don’t like box bread in general.

Tim: Why?

Danyal: It’s the Karen of breads.

Jason: Wtf?

7.

Dick walks into the living room to watch some T.V. before patrol and finds Cass recording something on the couch with her cellphone, Cass signals him to stay quiet as he walks closer to her. When Dick sees what his sister is recording his heart almost melts due to pure cuteness overdose. There, curled up on the couch with a sleeping Alfred the cat is a sleeping Danyal, both content and both purring.

Dick, crying: Send it to the family chat.

Cass nods in agreement.

8.

Danyal accompanies Damian and John to patrol around Gotham.

Danyal: Thank you for been his brother while I was away.

John: Thank you for saving him and for coming back.

Damian: What are you two doing up there?! I can’t fly you jerks!

9.

Danyal while helping Barbara update her firewalls.

Barbara: Are you sure this is safe?

Danyal, while drawing Tecnus’ summoning circle with a white glass marker on Barbara’s computer: Do not worry, Barbara, Tecnus will make sure no one messes with your systems ever again.

Barbara: That’s not what I mean.

10.

Danyal enters the kitchen and hides behind Alfred: Please make Damian stop.

Damian entering the kitchen right that instant: It is only fair Danyal.

Alfred standing between the twins: What is this about boys?

Danyal: Damian wants me to attend the gala instead of him.

Damian: It is only fair, Pennyworth. I’ve attended these ridiculous pleasantries for far too long, it is only fair for Danyal to take my place in some.

Alfred: Oh, but young master Danyal is also attending this one.

Danyal: What?!

Damian: Justice!

Alfred: The launching of the new product it’s just an excuse, this party was actually planned by Master Bruce and master Timothy to make your official social debut, young master. Master Bruce has even called Mister Clark and misses Lois for the surprise press conference.

Danyal: Ugh!

[6esiree]

“Oh, so your fingers worked when they were inside of me last night, but today they can’t text me back?”

I saw this on Instagram and tried to imagine how my five fav Hazbin men would react if you texted them this. I whipped this up pretty quickly so sorry if it’s crap, LOL <3

Alastor:

Alastor only has a phone so you can contact him whenever you need to, and he usually answers right away. But the one time he doesn’t because he’s out with Rosie, you decide to hit him up with this and he’s visibly horrified, flustered even, when he finally reads it.

“Is something the matter, Alastor?” Rosie asks, putting her teacup down as she notices the look on his face. “Oh my! Are you…blushing?”

“Excuse me for just a second,” Alastor says as he stiffly stands up, pushing his seat in and turning away, furiously typing at his phone.

“I am with Rosie. We will talk about this when I get home, understood?”

“Ok, I’ll be waiting for u <3.”

“Kiss your legs goodbye, mon chéri, because you will be unable to walk for a while.”

Lucifer:

Whenever you go out, you like to text Lucifer to see how he’s doing. This man answers FAST as fuck, that is why the one time he doesn’t you hit him up with this, trying to get his attention. When he finally checks his phone his heart instantly drops—I mean, what is he supposed to feel? He’s a blushing mess as he recalls what you did last night, but he’s also panicking, so he decides to call you.

“Hey, honey! I’m so, so sorry, I was in the middle of something,” Lucifer says, trying not to stutter, but you can still hear the nervousness in his voice. “My fingers work just fine, by the way, I can show you if you come back home—“

“Christ, Luci! I was just trying to get you to answer.”

“Pretty please?”

Husk:

Husk takes his sweet ass time responding to your texts, so the best way to reach him is to call him. However, it’s just one of those rare occasions where you can’t call him, that’s why you hit him up with this to try to get his attention. Husk has company at the bar, so when he finally sees your text he immediately turns his back to everybody, cursing under his breath as he tries to adjust himself through his pants.

“Oh, babydoll. Just wait until you get home,” Husk texts you back, pissed off but also slightly amused, especially when you answer him.

“Haha, ok…whatever u say old man :P.”

“You’re lucky Angel can't mind his own fucking business, otherwise I’d have something to say about that.”

Vox:

Unless he’s busy with something or he’s pissed off with you, Vox will answer your texts right away. The one time he forgets to tell you he has a meeting, you hit him up with this after trying to reach him for a while. Vox steals a glance at his phone and this is how he reacts to it in his head, his screen slightly glitching when he’s asked to put in his two cents about something because he’s flustered. As soon as the meeting is over with, though, he teleports to your room, utterly embarrassed.

“I was in a MEETING! What in the Hell were you thinking?”

“Hey, I didn’t know that, I swear!”

“Yeah, yeah, now come over here, sweetheart. I'll show you that my fingers work just fine.”

Adam:

Adam is 50/50 when it comes to answering your texts. Sometimes he’ll answer quickly, and sometimes he won’t, which can be frustrating. When you hit him up with this, it’s one of those times that he’s taking hours to see your texts, even leaving you on read when he finally opens them because his memory is shit. Adam is out with Lute, his eyes bugging out of his head when he decides to check his phone. I mean, hey, what’s up with that?

“Sir? Where are you going?” Lute asks him, watching him spread his wings, but Adam doesn’t answer, leaving before she can notice his boner.

“Hey, what the fuck is wrong with you? You gave me a boner in public, you stupid—!”

“Well, start answering your texts then, Adam! And don't you dare finish that sentence, or no sex for a week.”

“I'm so sorry, baby. I love you so much and I will answer your texts right away from now on.”

[redflagshipwriter]

batmom cass: reveal

masterpost

Oh. Fuck. He was invisible. A flood of genuine fear washed through him. He was discovered again, he was away from any allies, he had to get away-

Danny went intangible out of sheer survival instinct and lurched downwards. Bruce made a punched-out sound and lunged to grab him. He actually got his hand around Danny’s wrist and clenched despite Danny being invisible to human eyes. It was no use. Danny slipped through his grip, the chair, and then the floor.

He caught himself there and paused, hovering in the flooring. He could see the weird joints underneath the kitchen, a dark crawl space with way more spiders than Alfred could possibly know about. One of them reared up and waved its front legs at him in what was either a threat or a greeting. Danny shuddered involuntarily and pulled back a little to give the arachnid personal space.

“Danny?” Cass’s voice was muffled but calm. “Sit in your chair, please.”

She made it sound so sensible.

He blinked rapidly. “Right. Right, okay.” He floated back up through the floor and avoided eye contact as he settled back into place and the visible spectrum. He stole a glance around the room. Cass and Damian looked unaffected. Bruce’s face said the same, but the pulse point was jumping rapidly in his throat. His hand was pressed firmly against his thigh as if to remind him that it was a physical thing that existed.

“This GIW is harmful to you?” Damian asked, sensible and unaffected. He pushed his empty yoghurt away a few inches on the tabletop. “I gather from the acronym that we are dealing with an organization rather than an individual.”

“....Yeah.” Danny gripped his knees under the table and clung to the hint of normalcy. If they were going to act like that hadn’t been weird, then maybe he was okay. “I think they’re government affiliated. They say they are. They, uh.” He cleared his throat. “They’re the Ghost Investigation Ward, but I call them the Guys in White.”

“And they are a problem because?” Damian asked crisply. Cass was watching with the full force of her formidable attention, but it wasn’t a heavy gaze. 

Danny forced himself to stop fidgeting. “Well, I might have died a little.” It came out as a question. “And they’re not sure it’s me- at least, they weren’t, but I guess that they are now.” Oof, that was hard to internalize. Of course they did. Now that they knew about Vlad, they had all the pieces to put it together. His parents had definitely put it together. The look on Mom’s face when she saw him hauling Vlad out of the lab…

He felt cold. Danny rubbed at his thighs as if that would help. 

There hadn’t been another choice. It ate at him a little bit that Danny had thrown his life away for someone he didn’t even like, but what else could he have done? Vlad was Vlad, yeah, but Danny couldn’t have left anyone there. 

Bruce had a look that Danny had never seen on him before. Intense. Focused. Dangerous. Danny instinctively pulled away from it, sitting all the way up in his chair. 

Bruce wiped it away, but the memory still sent Danny’s blood rushing. Ecto gathered in his mouth like saliva, his body readying to fight for his life. He swallowed it down with difficulty. 

“As you said,” Cass interjected. She scooted her chair a little closer to him and laid an arm along his shoulders. “Like Jason.” She rubbed at his upper arm. He leaned into her touch. 

“Like Jason,” Bruce echoed. His tone was hollow.

Danny ducked his head and missed the meaningful look that Cass shot her BatDad. 

“What are their capabilities?” Damian pushed. His dark eyes glittered when Danny looked back at him. “You clearly have invisibility and density shifting. Are they able to counter you?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Danny blinked rapidly to try to force himself to focus. This was… so weird. Someone had found out about him and he wasn’t fighting for his life. Even his friends had found out when he was actively under fire from a ghost. His nervous system didn’t know what to do with this. He cleared his throat. “They have a lot of tech, uh.” He flexed his hands. “From my parents.” He stared at the woodgrain on the table. It was probably real wood and not the heavy duty polymer that the Fenton table was made out of. “They’re not exactly competent, but there’s a lot of them, and they have had some success.”

His stomach lurched. He swallowed hard on bile. He didn’t think about what he’d found when he went after Vlad. He didn’t think about Vlad in his human form, strapped down and incisions pinned open, literal pins holding open his torso and skin layers on his arms. He didn’t think about the quietly despairing hums coming from rows of ghost cores on a shelf, neatly labeled with specimen numbers. 

“Let’s walk.” Cass hustled him up and muscled him down the hall without letting go of her comforting grip. Danny went along with it numbly. But she was kinda right. Moving shook him out of his head. The walls were changing around him, curtains and windows and framed portraits and some of Tim’s photography. They passed a room he had never seen before. Cass pushed the door open, let him look around, and then tugged him down the hall before he’d had time to do more than catalogue the novelty. 

She did that at the next door, too. Oh. An impromptu tour. The novelty of seeing new things started to drag him back to the real world, right now, which was not exactly a fight for his life.

At the third door, Danny managed, “Does anyone play that piano?”

Cass made a mysterious hum. It took her a while to unstick her tongue. “Damian can. Jason, if you ask with big eyes.” 

Danny nodded at this information. Damian did seem like the kind of person who would hone a few classic artistic skills. And Jason was manipulable, good information.

…Not that Danny would need much help there. He felt a little sheepish at how threatened he’d felt earlier when he remembered the sincerity and protectiveness he could sense from both Cass and Jason.  

“What should we do about GIW?” Cass broached the topic, as if she knew that he felt better. She probably did know. “Investigate cautiously? Destroy?” She held up two fingers to count off the ‘destroy the GIW’ options. “Horde of lawyers descend from Wayne Enterprises jet, or Justice League?”

Danny snorted. It turned into a laugh, hysterical and too long. He wiped tears away from his eyes. “Personally, I like the idea of blowing up their base,” he admitted. “But someone should rescue the test subjects first.”

“Oh?”

Cass was so weirdly easy to talk to. He leaned a little harder against her. She wasn’t a big woman, but there was something so solid about her anyway. It must be a Black Bat thing. “I left because I was getting someone out,” he admitted. “They were a lot more captives than I knew about.” He squeezed his free hand to ground himself. “I grabbed as many as I could and tossed them through the portal, but I don’t know if that was everyone or if just being home let them heal up.” 

Hell, maybe someone had come along and eaten all the helpless cores. Danny shied away from the horror of that thought. His intuition had identified the helpless ghost cores as viable ectoplasm, healing and delicious. They were scared at his approach because they sensed him, they knew they were helpless shells to crack open and lick out the sweet marrow–

Ah. Yup. He stopped in his tracks and heaved his snack onto the carpet.

[kenntolog]

Hey hey hey! If it’s okay with you, can I request lowkey a reincarnation modern au with Gojo where everything with goo that happened was a memory that past reader went through but current reader dreamt of this memory full on thinking it was just a nightmare and wakes up all like, a sobbing mess and stuff and Gojo wakes up and is panicking while reader is saying ineligible things while tightly holding onto Gojo

𝝑𝝔 an: well this was sad to write. spoiler for the manga but i think everyone already knows. hope u like this <33

satoru looks nice in white. wearing traditional haori, as if prepared for a grand event you aren’t aware of, he slowly walks forward until his steps come to a halt. they seemed to be the only thing disturbing the dead silence, their click echoing through the space until he stopped.

you look around in confusion, watching the grim expressions of his former and current students, all dressed somewhat similarly to each other, as they watch their teacher, each having a different emotion in their gaze, but all laced with something weirdly familiar to you. grief.

“sensei!” yuuji’s voice rang through the air, as if in your head. “your technique’s in the way!”

satoru turns to face his student with a wide smile, taking of his robe and motioning for him to hit him properly which the pink-haired boy does with the excitement of a little boy wanting to make his father proud. everyone says something to gojo, but strangely, you can’t make out whatever they are saying and soon they blur out to the background, your focus solely staying on your lover.

as if sensing your pointed gaze, satoru turns around to face you, his face softening and smile turning more sweet.

“wanna wish me luck, sweetheart?” he mutters as you step closer to him, but you hear him clearly.

“what for?”

the smooth chuckle he lets out makes you even more uncertain about the reality of what was happening. has he confused your genuine confusion and curiosity for something else more teasing and lighthearted? you don’t know and you don’t think you will ever know since satoru is already throwing on his robe again and turning to leave you after placing a warm kiss on your forehead.

was this a dream? why does it all feel so real?

you can barely bring yourself to move, your steps not nearly as fast as you want them to be, as you try to get closer to satoru, hand reaching out for his in the air. sensing your presence once again, he turns back again and the worry on his face only alarms you further, a confused ‘oh’ escaping you when he pulls you into his chest.

the column of his neck faintly smells of his favourite cologne mixed with the familiar notes of his shower gel. your favourite scent in the whole world — satoru; it’s enough to distract you from the events of whatever the hell you’re in right now, closing your eyes and forgetting about this weirdly graphic dreamscape.

you think you’re going back to the peaceful darkness of your usual sleep. that is until the familiarity of satoru’s smell is replaced by cold nothingnes and the metallic undertones of blood.

eyes opening wide, you’re met with satoru’s blue orbs staring up somewhere, not you, but through you. the marble skin of his face all broken, the perfect white of his locks dirtied and seemingly fresh blood slowly drying under his nose and all over his mouth. you shudder with a silent gasp, hands cupping the sides of his head carefully as you lean in closer, horrified but unable to let go of him.

this is not real… right?

“s-satoru?”

he finally looks at you. you try to move yet the barely audible splash under your knees makes you still in your place. gradually moving your gaze lower you realise that you’re sitting in a pool of blood.

his blood.

the snow falling to the ground around you mixes with it, dusting him along with his forearms and intestines that are just… just slowly falling out of his ripped abdomen. no, you can’t— this is not— no way, right?

a loud thud from behind you alerts you out of your current state of shock just to throw you into another one, because when you look back you see the rest of his body and it’s enough to make you stop breathing and wake you up from this nightmare.

please be a nightmare.

you sit up on the bed as if electrocuted, chest heaving in sheer fear and panic as you quickly search for satoru only for him to find you instead; warm hands cupping your cheeks as his worried gaze frantically scans over your features.

“hey! are you okay?”

you don’t know that you’re doing exactly the same before a broken sob leaves your throat along with an infinite string of incoherent sentences, and you bury your face in his stomach, arms closing tightly around his waist as you push yourself into him.

“sweetheart? c’mon, talk to me.”

hands crawling under his shirt, you squeeze at his sides, feeling the supple skin for anything that resembles a rip, a tear, anything meaning that satoru’s been hurt. you breathe him in. his favourite perfumed detergent lingering on the fabric of his shirt, a little bit of his cologne and just him. it’s so him.

“i’m here, baby, it’s okay.”

his hands gently rub your shoulders as you continue sobbing into him, crawling even closer, belly hitting his knees as you hold him even tighter to your body, unable to look at his face, scared. as if sensing everything along with you, satoru grips you under your shoulders and tugs you up so he’s able to embrace you instead.

big arms wrapping around your shoulders carefully, he pushes you into his chest, just like he did it in that dream, making you sob even more. he’s alive.

“d’you wanna tell me what happened?” he asks after what seem to be like forever spent in silence; with you just breathing him in and him trying to comprehend everything that just happened with you.

“you were hurt,” you mutter into his chest, voice raspy and quiet. “very badly.”

“i’m okay, baby, you can relax—”

“it looked so real.”

you look through him, the sight of his untouched face blurring and his ruined face coming forward, as if forever claimed in your mind.

his gaze turns even more troubled and uncertain as he watches tears well in your eyes once again, hating the sight of your fear and sadness. he leans down to kiss your forehead warmly, to which you seem to react more viscerally, shoulders shaking in another round of sobs which he can only help you get over with his warm embrace and one hand stroking your head soothingly.

“i’m sorry, satoru,” you wail into his chest, fingers gripping the black shirt he’s wearing so tight it’s close to ripping. “i’m so sorry—”

satoru has no idea why you’re apologising, but it scares him so much. it scares him how familiar the tone of your voice seems to him even though he’s never seen you in such state before. but he still continues to hold you close until your body stops trembling and you pass out from exhaustion, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

[cameronspecial]

Need the rafe and reader locked up in a room 🙏

Don't Stain The Carpet

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Swearing and Heated Make Out

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.1K

Masterlist

Topper and Kece were sick of the fighting. It was happening all day, every day now and they just wanted it to stop. They might even prefer the days when the two would be caught in a heated makeout session instead of an argument. So, they devised a plan to get the exes on a more cordial playing field. “Dude, I don’t know what’s wrong with it. One moment it’s running fine. The next, it won’t start,” Topper complains, leading Rafe down to the basement. The other boy grumbles, “Yeah, yeah. Just show me where your laptop is. I don’t know why you called me for it. I’m not fucking IT support.” Topper throws him a sheepish smile over his shoulder. “But you are good with computers.” Rafe rolls his eyes, “Stop being a kiss ass. I’m already here.” 

Once at the bottom of the stairs, Topper shuts up and steps out of the way so Rafe can pass through first. The tall man thinks nothing of it and enters the finished basement; however, when he is face to face with his ex-girlfriend, suspicion overcomes him. It is too late though because as he turns to leave the room and ream Topper out for this setup, the door is locked behind him. He rushes to the door, trying to open it even though he knows it is locked. “Topper, you little shit. Open this door.” He is met with silence, so he steps away from it and turns toward Y/N. “What are you doing here?” he questions. 

She rolls her eyes, “Top said he needed help picking out a gift for his mom. Why are you here?” They both know they have been lied to. It’s obviously from the fact that a laptop isn’t in sight and two separate reasons as to why they are there. 

He glares at her. “Oh, you know, Top said I could meet the Queen of England so I thought wow, I gotta get there. Why does it fucking matter? It was a lie.” She scoffs, “See, that. That is why I broke up with you.” He chuckles and runs his hands through his hair. “One. The breakup was mutual. Two. What. What is the reason you ‘broke up’ with me.” She holds out her hand and motions up and down, “Because you are an ass. That’s why. You only care for yourself and that’s it.” 

“Oh, please. We both know that isn’t fucking true.” 

“Right, sorry. I forgot about drugs and alcohol. Those might be pretty high up your list.” 

“STOP PUTTING WORDS IN MY MOUTH!”

His yell has her flinching back and he takes a deep breath while running his hand down his face “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled.” Her arms cross and she stands straighter. “You shouldn’t have,” she chastises. “Look, just because we are locked in here together doesn’t mean we have to talk to each other. I’ll go see if a call can get through. I mean we really should’ve seen this coming. His basement doesn’t get any signals.” 

With her final mutterance, she storms away from him. Her back hits against the wall and she slides down it. He observes as she pulls her phone out, hearing the familiar music of the cat game she enjoys playing sounds through the room. He smiles at the memory of her turning onto her stomach after an eventful night of love-making to play the game. He would always make fun of her and then rest his chin on her shoulder to watch her play over her shoulder. She used to get so excited when she would find the cat she was looking for. A crease in her forehead forms and he laughs. The noise has her staring at him over her phone. “What?” His hand extends toward her hand, “Didn’t get the cat you wanted?” her gaze flicks down to her phone with a frown. God, she hates how much he knows her. “Yes,” she whispers, slouching in embarrassment. 

Silence occurs on them. He shuffles over to the couch and decides to stroll down memory lane. His thumb swipes through the pictures. Her smile is so bright in this one and the sun hits her just right so it adds an extra shine to her eyes. He should’ve deleted all their pictures together when they broke up but he couldn’t bring himself to delete them. So he hid them away in a folder and promised to never look at them again. He hates that a distance has grown between them. He has to fix it.

“The only thing I ever cared about other than myself is you,” he mumbles. “Hmm,” she sounds out, not looking up from her phone. He clears his throat, “I cared- I mean I still care about you. Maybe even more than I care about myself.” He takes a second to think about it. “Actually. I definitely care about you more than myself.” The tone shifts in her room and she puts her phone down. He heads over to her, settling on the floor beside her. She looks him in the eyes and her vision has blurred. “Then why weren’t you there? You promised you would be after all the other things you skipped. The worst thing was that you wouldn’t tell me where you were.” He bites the corner of his lip and reaches into his pocket for his keys. He grows through his keys and holds them out to her, “I was out getting this. I didn’t want to spoil the surprise.” She takes the key ring into her hands and a shiny diamond stares back at her. “You were buying me a ring,” she murmurs. He nods, “I wanted to marry you and I know that this wouldn’t have made up for all the other things I missed, but I was hoping it would show you that I was committed to being with you.”

Everything she has felt for him for as long as she has known him comes cropping up and she takes a chance. “Do you still want to marry me?” she questions. His hand rests on her cheek, “More than anything else in the world.” She grins at him with tears leaking out of her eyes. “Then let's get married.” She presses their lips together and swings her leg over him. His fingers lace through her hair, pulling her in closer than possible. As she begins to grind down into him, a loud crash comes from behind him. “I wanted this to work. However, I didn’t want this to work this well,” Topper gripes. Rafe’s eyes narrow at him. “Get out,” Rafe growls at Kelce and Topper, who are standing in the doorway with wide eyes. Kelce and Topper look at each other with a nod. Topper grabs the doorknob and pulls the door closed. “Don’t stain the carpet!” Topper’s voice pleads through the door, causing the newly reunited couple to laugh together.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

[nectardaddy]

don't ever leave - inumaki toge

cw: mentions of blood and death, anxiety/panic attack, light angst in the beginning

notes: not my fav but it's been sitting in my drafts forever, sorta edited

His throat was raw and scorched from words already, thinking to himself he would only make matters worse if he spoke at all. But what would he say if he could? What could he say at all?

How does one offer comfort without words?

It was past midnight, and the young man grappled with the very thought alone as he held you. Holding you tightly as if you would slip away at any moment. Violet eyes watched as tears slipped down your cheeks, feeling his heart strings tie themselves in knots at your broken form. You held onto him tightly, fingers grabbing at the fabric of his shirt that he had worn to bed because letting go meant being alone. And being alone made your mind race.

He didn't realize how missions strangled you, how much they choked you until you were gasping for breath even when you were safe. Didn't realize how much bloodshed and trauma his mind had already become accustomed to or completely blocked out - thinking as though if he did such, everyone else must, right?

He was so terribly wrong. Closing his eyes in guilt because that was so far from what you had done, and he hadn't even noticed. He witnessed the outpour of emotions he had long since forgotten when he opened his tired eyes to you that evening. An evening where he went to sleep rather early from the events of the day; an evening were his throat singed with pain and he winced with every swallow. An evening where he thought you did the same as you gave him a small smile before heading to bed.

But you didn't.

Unbeknownst to him, you tossed and turned, the inner turmoil of emotions bubbling up and over as you laid in bed. Tears running down your face in the darkness of the night as you repeated today's events in your mind - all the while he was sound asleep. Texting him to see if he was still awake, but with no reply you held your breath as you walked to his room. Choked sobs leaving your lips as you opened his door, too afraid to wait and knock as someone might have heard your cries.

You only craved the comfort of a man who couldn't even speak to it.

He was confused when he heard the door creek open and quickly shut, confused when the sound of soft cries hit his ears, and concerned when he heard the gentle call of his name. Groggy eyes opening at the noise only to find your shattered frame, haphazardly wiping your eyes and shoulders slumped - oh god why were you crying?

Now he was sat up in his bed, holding you like his life depended on it; because in that moment, he thought yours surely did. Pale fingers running down your back as he believed he shouldn't speak a word, he couldn't speak a word. His throat was raw and scorched from words already, thinking to himself he would only make matters worse if he spoke at all. But what would he say if he could? What could he say at all?

That you were alright? His words would snap you into a false sense of security, no longer feeling your emotions but shoving them down even further. Ask you what was wrong? You would spill your guts to him involuntarily, whether you wanted to share or not. Even if he were to utter a safe word, his throat was so shredded it would send him into a coughing fit. Then you would care less about your own feelings and more about his well-being. He was at a loss. So he held you. Unwavering in his hold as your tears didn't seem to stop, but wanting nothing more than to ease your mind.

"Sometimes I don't even want to be a sorcerer at all," he heard your mumble, your words jumbled and hushed as you kept your head in his chest. He could only nod gently, hoping you understood that he was listening, as you continued on. "I can't bear seeing you hurt yourself because I'm too weak to do anything."

His heart sunk in his chest at your statement, closing his eyes once more as his mind raced to block out the memory. But to no avail. The mere thought of the blood that pooled in his mouth earlier that day made him sick, and the visceral reaction that came with the thought of harm coming to you was nauseating. It was a thought he desperately wanted to speak to, one of which he only wished to utter the words he wanted.

He would rather succumb death than have you meet the same fate.

As much as the man swore to himself, to his friends, you didn't have such a foothold in his heart, his life would shatter without you in it. He vowed he would never, not in a million years, be so attached to someone he would risk his very own life. But here he sat, voice mutilated and hoarse as he had done just that. Yuuta would tell him it was, morbidly, romantic, but the young man would wholeheartedly deny ever doing such a thing - he was only doing the mission assigned. But he was naive to think such a thing, naive to push his own feelings aside for the sake of ego.

He didn't want to pull away, but he so desperately wanted to speak to your statement, to ease your mind in some way, shape, or form. The tears you shed made his heart wring and shatter. 'It's alright,' he signed, trying his best as he only pulled away one hand as to hold you with the other. 'I'm alright,' he reassured.

"You can't even speak, Toge," you quipped, your voice harsh as it was filled with tears and sorrow. Within your own words, you found yourself clutching his clothing for dear life. Hoping that if you guarded him, as you did your mind, he wouldn't slip through your fingers. Not whisk himself away through means of being a victor, a protector, because how could one protect if they were gone?

'But I'm here,' he signed, a simple statement that even he reveled in. Sorcery was a sinful business, a lethal business; one of which that broke the spirit, mind, and body. A morbid testament to those who ever dared to join the fray - it was win or die trying. 'I'm not going anywhere.'

Usually, the young man wasn't favorable with emotions, never knowing what to do, if anything at all. But it felt natural for his fingers to touch your chin, instinctive for his touch to be gentle and caring as he offered you to look at him. Violet eyes meeting your own troubled ones and pale fingers thumbing away a tear that slipped down your stained cheeks, he gave you a small, tired smile. "M' here," he choked out, his voice hoarse and broken. Seemingly a whisper compared to your own, as he couldn't find the strength to project.

The act made your heart melt within your chest, and few words were enough to set it ablaze. Though it was coarse and fractured, they were the only words you needed to hear in the moment. He was here, he was alive, he was breathing - hopefully now until the end of your days. "Don't ever leave."

@inumakis-boo @inumakisser

I know you'll appreciate this lol

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Part 17: the stars are shining their brightest light

"We can get lost in fears that we make for days that feel black as night, but there in the dark, you'll find that the stars are shining their brightest light." -If You Love Someone by The Veronicas

Regent Masterlist Part 16

“This is my girlfriend, Queen Regent Jasmine of the Infinite Realms.” 

If there was ever a way to silence the Bat-family, it was with an introduction like that. 

Sure, Jason knew the family was fully aware of Jasmine Nightingale (thanks to Replacement), but he was positive that he had just rocked their world by just casually dropping the fact that  Jazz was not only royalty of the same dimension but also ruled it in the stead of the true monarch… He was certain that his family would figure out what he wasn’t saying soon enough. 

Beautifully executed and dinner hadn’t even started. 

The shock that permeated the room was delicious, feeding his ego as he led Jazz to their seats the furthest from Bruce, with Jazz safe at his side where he could intercept any perceived attack aimed at her. He’d ignored the rule about weapons at the table, packing his favorite desert eagle at his back and an ecto-gun strapped to his ankle that was a thoughtful gift from Danny. Jasmine had her bracelets uncharmed for the evening, desiring transparency with his family, and he knew how quickly she could summon her armor and Faithkeeper. They were as prepared as they could be and it made him proud that he had someone like Jazz to watch his back.

(He loved fighting back-to-back with her.) (Almost as much as he loved keeping her safe.) (The Lady and her knight.) (He was in love.)

It was Dickolas that spoke first, barely containing his excitement, “Little Wing, I’m so happy for you!” Which allowed pandemonium to follow from the rest of his siblings. 

“Oh my gosh-” 

“A member of royalty-” “-you’re-” 

“Jason pulled-”

 “gorgeous!” 

“New sister?”

“-is willing-” 

“A queen?!” 

“-to date you?” 

“Nice one man.” 

The once-Revenant could practically taste Jazz’s amusement, relishing in her amusement-bafflement-love as they waited quietly for the others to settle down so the couple could answer the questions no doubt waiting for them.  

The first question Jazz could answer was probably the one that she dreaded to answer. 

“How’d you meet?” Tim asked, eyes switching from Jason to her and back again. 

Jason was swift to reply, “At a bookstore.” “Got to talking and Jason asked me out.” Jazz added with a soft smile at the memory of a blushing Jason. 

The dark-haired girl at the table, Cassandra Wayne, signed something far too quick for Jazz to read completely. Though Stephanie translated right away, “Cass asked how long it took Jason to ask you out.” 

Jazz chuckled a bit and set down her cutlery to sign her response, though the movements were somewhat stilted- she hadn’t used sign language since the last meeting with Heppa, a mute acropolis amazonian that once acted as Jazz’s sparring partner while under Pandora’s tutelage. 

Some signs were muscle memory (stop, peace, fight), but others were difficult to recall. The ghost equivalent of ASL (ESL or ecto sign language) was far easier to fall back into than ASL, given that it also used emotions to communicate. [Two days, nervous, very cute.] Jazz signed, projecting the fondness-love she felt for her soulmate as she did. Cass tilted her head, the faint prickle of curiosity evaporating into the air almost as soon as Jazz registered it, but one of the other men at the table turned the attention away from the two women’s silent conversation. “I can’t believe little wing got a queen to date him!” Dick exclaimed. 

“Tt, a member of royalty should have better standards than to settle for Todd.” That comment came from the youngest Wayne, Damian, where he sat to his father’s left. The head of the house studied Jazz with a quiet air of protect-wariness. 

Ah, yes. They’d met as their alter egos- her the Regent and him the Batman. How concerning it must be for her to find her way into his son’s life and to his dining table with his other children. Bruce no doubt saw the evidence of the extent she would go to for Phantom. 

One slash, two, three Blood is on your hands already. 

Fourth, fifth slash Ask the ghosts if honor matters, buried amongst the ash.  Slash six, seven Sharpen your love into a weapon

“Jason is a wonderful person and partner.” Jazz replied, electing to ignore the DadBat’s stare into the side of her skull. Cass’s hands moved again, a bit slower than the first time, much to Jazz’s relief. [Do ghosts use sign?] 

[Yes. Emotions with words.] Jazz answered with a small smile as she once again projected her emotions, fondness-anxiety-amusement, for those present even if they couldn’t register them. 

“What are those shadows behind you?” Duke blurted out, eyes still locked onto something over Jazz’s shoulder. 

“Shades.” The manor was full of weak shades, no doubt belonging to ancestors of the Wayne lineage. “Weak ones” she clarified. 

Bruce spoke up this time, “The weakest form of ghosts?” he asked for clarification as if he wasn’t in possession of the Ghost Files, which she knew had information on shades. 

(Among other beings.) (She tried not to think about her own file.) (The evidence of patricide and matricide.) 

“Yes. These ones are probably just curious about my presence.” It was true, as far as she could tell. Jazz was the most liminal being in existence, after all, not to mention the Crown of Fire she bared as Regent. Thankfully, she couldn’t make out any hostility from the ancestral shades, not with her permission to be here and an escort of a Fraid member (Jason) was not an intrusion. 

“You are aware we know your identity,” Damian stated, with a glare that would cut down weak men. “And that you know ours.” 

(Well, no shit Sherlock.) (Jason’s Red Hood.) (No need for a corkboard and red string.) “Demon spawn-” Jason growled, but Jazz took his hand in hers to calm down the anger she could feel bubbling up to the surface. He took a deep breath in and out before he squeezed her hand back. “Damian. I trust Jazz with my life, she won’t betray us or our secret identities.” 

“Phantom trusted you with the Ghost Files. If he considers you worthy, then so will I.” Jazz swore. 

Dinner passed far quicker than Jason expected. He sat back and basked in his Lady’s presence at the dining table as she answered questions, as they had agreed before arriving. Bruce hadn’t spoken much, no doubt content to watch the interactions between his kids and Jazz. 

Jason hoped the old man could see how wonderful his Lady was. She was his guiding hand through darkness and fire, made his worries melt away, and offered him peace in his second chance at life. 

Gave him her heart, him, the eight-heads in a duffel bag crime lord. Let him meet her little brother, her reason for surviving thus far, her world. Let Jason’s scarred and bloody hands hold her close to his still-beating heart and Proto-core. 

He couldn’t offer her much, not really, but he could offer her a piece of him- this, his family, his Fraid. It wasn’t a lot, not when compared to what Jazz had given him before he ever knew her name, but it was all he had to give that couldn’t be offered so easily. 

(Jazz would never hurt his family.) (Not unless they hurt him first.) 

One day, the two of them would be comfortable in this manor side by side, but not now with the newness and wariness he could feel from his Fraid

Perhaps he shouldn’t ask Bruce for that favor quite yet. 

A/N: I am thrilled to announce that with this update the Regent is no longer in Hiatus! With the AO3 version comes more fuel to write (comments & kudos) and of course that gives me more encouragement to write. There will be gaps between posts still, but I will be posting parts again. AO3 link in Regent masterlist, parts combined into longer chapters. beta'd by the awesome @meditating-cat

Thanks for reading!

[holylulusworld]

Every Breath You Take (4)

Summary: There is a shadow following you. He doesn’t know what he got himself into.

Pairing: Stalker!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: stalking, being stalked, loneliness, a man out of time, secret admirer trope, voyeurism, longing

A/N: You all made me do it! Here’s the series to this random idea: Stalker Bucky & Crazy Reader

Catch up here: Every Breath You take (3)

Every Breath You Take Masterlist

You wake, once again, from a deep slumber you yawn and look around your bedroom. Last night you had the best dream.

Your dream man stepped out of your dreams and came to you to cuddle you in your bed. His scent still lingers on your clothes, and you sigh, wishing he’d stayed for a little longer.

“Well, he lives only in my dreams,” you press the plushie your secret admirer gifted to you to your heart. No matter what your colleague says, you cherish the cute cat. Whoever sent the flowers and the plushie to you must mean well.

You put the plushie away, putting it on top of your pillow. “Sorry, I got to go to work,” you sigh and pat its head. “I’ll be back soon, and we can cuddle some more.”

While you reluctantly slip out of bed, already regretting it the moment your feet touch the cold floor, Bucky watches you get ready for work.

He hums as you stretch in front of the wind. “We could work out together,” he says. “I think we will start with an easy workout.”

Alpine meows and turns their attention back toward the food in the bowl.

“What do you say, Alpine? Do you want to go shopping for her?” Bucky rubs his scruffy chin. “Maybe we could accidentally bump into her next time she goes grocery shopping.”

Bucky shakes his head. “No, it’s too soon. We need to get to know her even better.” He lies to himself. Bucky is scared to mess things up and tries to buy himself some time. “We’ll send her another gift today. I hope she’ll like it.”

“You got another gift from your stalker,” your colleague wrinkles her nose. She huffs because you ignore her jab. “You should call the cops or something. I just know that guy is a creep.”

“Why?” you look at the new gift. Your secret admirer sent an orchid to you this time. A beautiful yellow phalaenopsis. “They sent me an orchid. I love them.” You smile and carefully run your fingertips over one blossom. “I got them in many colors. How could they possibly know I didn’t have a yellow one yet.”

“Stalkers gonna stalk,” she quips while glancing at the orchid. “I’m telling you; they are going to become creepier in no time. Soon they will send you underwear or shit.”

“Underwear,” you gasp. “Oh, my.” You touch your heated cheeks. “You think they’re going to send me underwear? Maybe lace or satin.”

“You’re…crazy,” she huffs and storms off. “If you disappear, I won’t call the cops.”

You shrug. “I don’t know what’s her problem. The orchid is beautiful, and they didn’t do anything wrong. It’s a nice gift, nothing else.”

“Alpine!” Bucky calls for his cat. “She’s back and she got the orchid.” He grins when you step toward the window to place the new beauty on your windowsill. “She likes the orchid.”

Alpine ignores its owner once again. The white furball prefers getting comfortable in Bucky’s lap. “What else could we get for our girl, Alpine? We gave her flowers, a plushie, and an orchid.”

He wrinkles his forehead. “I got it!” Bucky jumps up, much to Alpine’s chagrin. The cat lands on the floor, hissing at their owner. “I’ll gift her my first edition of The Hobbit. She’s got a lot of books, but no first edition.”

Bucky walks toward the shelf he bought some weeks ago. A single book and his sunglasses the only things the only things he placed on the shelf. He grabs the book and smiles.

“I hope she’ll like it as much as I did when I read it for the first time.” He flinches at his own words. A memory wants to flash up in his mind, but he pushes it away.

Most of the time Bucky doesn’t allow himself to think about his life before Hydra.

Even if those memories are pleasant. It pains him to remember his life before the winter soldier, and all the losses he had to endure.

“I need to buy more wrapping paper, Alpine. Make a mental note.”

Bucky carefully puts the book on the small table next to his armchair. He’ll wrap it tomorrow and send it to you. Bucky wants to see you smile again.

“Ladies, we got a new roommate,” you talk to your orchids. “She’s a little shy, so be nice.” You giggle at your silliness. “Yellow queen, welcome to my home.”

You step away to admire your windowsill. “So beautiful. I wonder if he knew that I didn’t have a yellow one yet. He must be very observant. I can’t believe my colleague called him a creep. My secret admirer was nothing but kind to me.”

Smiling you just look at your collection of orchids for a moment. It makes you feel calm and happy just looking at them.

Sometimes, if the world gets too much you get lost in daydreams of flowers and fairytales. You are enchanted by the pretty flowers until you remember you had plans for tonight.

“Shoot! I still need to get changed. My show starts in not half an hour!”

Today, you leave the curtains open. Not only in your living room but in your bedroom too.

You slowly strip your clothes off and put on a show for your secret admirer. He won’t see much because you didn’t switch the light on, but you want him to see you for longer than a few moments.

If he’s not brave enough to talk to you yet, you’ll wait for him to reveal himself.

All you know is that he’s out there, watching over you like a guardian angel.

Part 5

Tags in reblog.

[viperwhispered]

Just Right

And here we are, at the end of Jamil’s Goldilocks journey (yes I've been waiting to make that joke ever since I figured out what the title for this last part should be). You can find the earlier parts here: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4.

It was still early morning, yet Jamil was awake, watching you sleep next to him. A soft smile pulled on his lips - no matter how many times he saw you like this, Jamil couldn’t help the way the sight tugged at his heartstrings.

You, in the bed you shared with Jamil. Comfortable, vulnerable - as natural as could be.

It was still hard for Jamil to shake the mortification when he thought of those early days with you. The way he had fought against it every step of the way, as if he could’ve somehow escaped his feelings just by denying them.

Yet, here he was.

By your side, sharing his life with you.

And all those things Jamil had not even allowed himself to think of back then now freely filled his mind.

Jamil still felt like he could drown in your eyes, when you looked at him with that particular fondness. Yet he basked in it, too, reveling in the warmth of your affection whenever he could. A sweet distraction, pulling him from the daily humdrum to the honeyed cocoon of just the two of you.

Though, to be fair, he did have a similar effect on you. Jamil’s smile widened, thinking of how you'd hide your face against his chest, too flustered and overwhelmed by your emotions to be face to face with him.

It really was too adorable. Too sweet.

So powerful.

Of course, there were so many other versions of you that he adored. The confident one, the happy one, the playful one, the one who looked at him with vulnerable surprise… Oh, Jamil loved it when he could catch you off-guard, whether it was with his affection or a bit of mischief.

All those different parts of you, firmly imprinted on him.

Indeed, ever since those early days you had carved out a corner for yourself in Jamil’s mind, in his heart, until eventually you’d taken residence in every part of him. Jamil hardly dared to think of just how much he would lose if he were to lose you, so tightly was his life intertwined with yours.

So was it really any wonder that thoughts of you were just another part of the background noise of his mind? All those mundane things: preparing breakfast in that particular way you liked, you being the first person he thought of sharing any news or anecdotes with, picking something up from the shops just because he knew you would like it - all these thoughts, the consideration for you, inseparably weaving in with his own wants and plans. Not in a suffocating, demanding way, but simply because you belonged to the forefront of his mind.

Of course, it was not only his mind that regarded you as a self-evident part of his life. His hands sought you whenever you were within reach, the warmth of your body against his always a balm. Your touches, your kisses… Sometimes inconvenient, Jamil had to admit, but never unwelcome. The physical contact was just so natural, just another facet of your shared existence. Fleeting touches in the busy hours of the day, melting into each other when you had the time to just be - or simply carving out that time when either of you needed it.

The closeness of bodies and hearts, making itself known time and again.

Indeed, all those fantasies Jamil had had, full of flutter and yearning, really could not compare to the depth and breadth of the real thing. There were so many small - and big - things he hadn’t even known to anticipate. Yet now there was a whole collection of them, picked up over the years, so many things that would not hold any meaning to anyone else but you two. Full meanings conveyed in half-words - or, sometimes, just in wordless noises or meaningful glances, all calling back to shared memories or the understanding you'd built.

It was not like Jamil would ever be done learning of you, finding out all those depths within you. Yet, he was certain he knew you, on such a deep level - and the way you knew him in turn, anticipating his next move, reading his mind, sometimes nearly frightened him. It almost felt like you had your personal spotlight on Jamil, always watching him, and there was a part of him, clinging to old habits, that sometimes simply wished to fade back into the background instead of being fully exposed to you.

Not that Jamil ever truly wanted to stray from your warmth, even as you pulled out those parts of him that he himself hadn’t seen - or didn’t want to see. After all, you weren’t above speaking your mind when you felt the need - yet, oddly enough, even in disagreements you seemed so invested in Jamil.

And that was what set Jamil’s heart aflutter more than anything else, the weight of it nearly suffocating when he thought of it. How you were all in for him, for you two together. How much you had given, how much you had fought… Oh, he could hardly breathe, thinking of it.

And here you were, still. The most desirable thing in this world, fast asleep by his side.

In those early days Jamil’s want for you had been such a turbulent, tempestuous thing. Nowadays, he couldn’t say he wanted you any less - in any sense of the word. The feelings had simply morphed, turning into a deeper, steadier current - but one still with the power to overwhelm him and drag him to the depths.

However, finally, Jamil had learned how to withstand those currents. Fighting them, denying your pull… It truly had been a fool’s errand. Riding with the waves, steering his course was the only way he could make it - but only once he allowed himself to be carried by the flow.

The sound of you stirring brought Jamil back from his musings.

Your eyes barely opened - indeed, you seemed to be at least half-asleep still. Jamil couldn’t help his smile at the sight.

“Isn’t it early?” you mumbled, turning around to sluggishly throw an arm around Jamil.

“It is,” Jamil murmured softly and brushed his lips against your temple. “Get some more sleep, ya qamar.”

You made a soft sound, already drifting back to sleep - safe and sound in Jamil’s arms.

Just as you should be.

Hope y’all enjoy the heaping of fluff - and that you have liked the whole series, too 😊 Also fun fact: I basically went through the earlier parts, pulling out Jamil’s unfinished thoughts and other poignant bits, and built this on top of those. Like sure this went through edits and it's not just one on one on those, but still. Was a kinda fun way of constructing this chapter. Also also: I’m kinda tempted to ramble about my thought process behind this whole series, so if that’s of interest, let me know! With all these water themes this really could have the makings of a jamiazu fic as well, huh? Want to get tagged for my future works? Just let me know and I'd be happy to do so.

[violet-prism-creatively]

My live reactions to Harrow the Ninth

Continued from my pre-reading assumptions and post-reading thoughts about Gideon the Ninth

Everyone who said "Harrow the Ninth will take a while to make sense, be patient and it will pay off" was absolutely right! I made a lot of notes throughout with predictions, some of which were correct and some of which were... not.

Theories that were wrong:

The Emperor wiped Harrow's memory of Gideon

Gideon has spoken with The Body

The Body's eyes now appear yellow because they're Gideon's eyes

Harrow only sees her own eyes as black because she wiped her memory of Gideon, everyone else perceives them as gold

The Sleeper is The Body

The Sleeper is Gideon

"Ortus the First" is Gideon (the Ninth)

Harrow is haunted by Gideon

The picture in Camilla, Coronabeth, & Judith's shuttle is of Gideon

Cytherea's body moving around is a hallucination

Gideon's sword is haunted by the lyctor who established the Ninth House

I also did make some pretty good guesses, though. Here's some more of my notes that are just fun reactions!

"Her parents had... found out... about what she had done" SHE DOESN'T REMEMBER GIDEON'S VITAL ROLE IN THIS

This Teacher is a lot more helpful

there are advantages to having God himself as a father figure

"the grey-wrappered figures of Camilla Hect and Palamedes Sextus laid on the slabs in the mortuary" NO :(

bookmarking this other incomprehensible clue

it's that graffiti S that everyone drew in elementary school lol

"You had noticed at previous dinners that he did not like some particular vegetables, so you had put them all in." that's so petty, I love it

"said Camilla Hect" YAY

"the skull of someone who, soon after death or symptomatically during, had exploded" Palamedes!

Harrow never got actual sword training as a lyctor, did she? Now Camilla can help her!

"Nobody had seen you walk through that door [to The Tomb]. Nobody had watched you leave." GIDEON SAW AND THAT'S WHAT'S GOING TO CONVINCE HARROW THAT SHE'S NOT INSANE, EVENTUALLY

"What a destructive, romantic, ridiculous act. It was always a certain kind of ass who approached love like that" yeah it's a certain kind of stupid, heroic, selfless, etc. to make yourself forget the person you're in love with to protect them

"Harrow Nova" another alternate universe where Harrow is in Gideon's role?????

"they've got a hotshot new BARI star" oh my god it's a coffee shop au in space

SHE REMEMBERS GIDEON!!!!!!! (how??)

"You sawed open your skull rather than be beholden to someone. [...] Harrowhark, I gave you my whole life and you didn't even want it." AAAAAAAAA!!!!

"I was, and am, a grown man, and you both were neglected children" thank you Ortus for taking responsibility. actually a decent person

"What the fuck is going on?" yeah i feel u babe

"'The only thing that ever stopped me being exactly who I wanted,' she said, 'was the worry that I would soon be dead... and now I am dead, and I am sick of roses, and I am horny for revenge.'" hell yeah!!

oh Ianthe was gaslighting her. yeah Gideon wreck her!

"you'd kept my sunglasses" awww

"I never made her look like that. She can't love me, even if I'd wanted her to." aw :( and she's still so devoted anyway

"Your art, not my strength, was the ultimate source of our victory." so Ortus does get to be a hero after all, in his own way!

"Awake Remembrance of These Valiant Dead Kia Hua Ko Te Pai Snap Back to Reality Oops There Goes Gravity" I remember seeing posts about this name now! lol

yeah it's a weird chain of people in other people's bodies (Gideon would love the innuendo)

"We needed your, ahem, genetic material" Ianthe was right, ew. Also Gideon is the daughter of God I guess?

"You watched us kill our cavaliers in cold blood, and none of them had to die." ok that is a pretty bad thing for him to do

the tragedy that Gideon only had John as a father for a few minutes, while Harrow had him as a father figure for months but didn't want that

"'my necromancer started an affair with your mother... not knowing I'd also been doing the same thing, using his body.' // I said, 'What the fuck.'" extremely valid reaction from Gideon

"Oh, we'll still hate each other, my dear, we have hated each other too long and too passionately to stop... but my bones will rest easy next to your bones." that's kinda romantic in its own way

to be fair, if John dies, the entire solar system of Dominicus dies

"We died" no actually I think you might be alive and being saved

???????? Another alternate reality memory thing??

Multiple notes about how Harrow might just be the way she is because of growing up in a temple with strict routine, no social interaction, and no variety of sensory input... but I'm headcanoning her as autistic. Also headcanoning Gideon as ADHD, and autism/ADHD gay couples are my favorite ships.

Tagging people who have been following along. I'm going to switch to not tagging people anymore after this, but tagging all posts as #violet reads tlt, and you can follow the tag. @procrastinationaccount @vivaciouscynner @pearlofmydreams @cursed-druid-girl @ghostly-atv

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒔, 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈

part 3 of 🌧️welcome to hell🌧️

summary - as the betrayal continues, you slip through memories that you had unknowingly locked away, finally seeing the lies.

warning - cheating, angst, bad thoughts, swearing, self-hate.

the gif I use isn't mine, headers by me.

part 1 - part 2 - part 4

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

You finally make your way to your bedroom, each step dragging with dread. You could feel the end approaching, but you didn’t know how it would go. You walk in and see him already on his side, you sigh softly before crawling into the bed. You felt your skin crawl with him so close, you felt like you needed to bathe in bleach or boiling hot water or even both to stop feeling so dirty. You turned on your side, not being able to fall asleep as your mind is flooded with thoughts and memories.

Ten minutes pass and you feel Johnny move before he slides out of bed and tiptoes to the bedroom door. Your eyes slip shut when he turns his head to check if you are asleep. The moment he walks out, and the door closes gently behind him, a tear slips from your eyes.

The house had been quiet, but the moment your husband entered the guest bedroom next to yours. The silence had been replaced, first with their voices. They were muffled, but you could still hear them through the wall, your heart was pounding in your chest as their voices turned into moans. You felt as though someone had reached into your chest, grabbed your heart and started squeezing and twisting. You imagined the person doing it was a demonic version of Johnny, he stood before you, his hand in your chest, claws digging into your frantic heart. His eyes black, an evil swirled inside of them, and a large sadistic grin appeared, a row of sharp teeth shown. 

The truth was… You’d rather deal with a demon than what was happening in the other room. 

Your eyes slip closed as tears continue to fall and as you are trying to block out the sounds coming from the guest room. You are pulled into a memory…

Your body collides into something, and your eyes squeeze shut as you are expecting to fall from the force of impact. You feel someone wrap their arms around you and your eyes shoot open, you are met with the prettiest blue eyes you have ever seen. Your mouth opens and closes, cheeks heating up when you realise you’ve been staring for too long at the hot stranger.

He smiles down at you, and you feel like you’re dreaming. “You better watch your step, Baby girl. You nearly fell for me.” His smile shifted into a smirk, you were the prey to the predator, the toy to a manwhore. Your heart fluttered. 

Your lashes fluttered as you blinked before you realised you were still in the man’s arms. You gently pull away and look down at your feet, your bottom lip between your teeth as you suddenly feel shy and ridiculous. “I’m so sorry.” Your hands smooth out the dress you are wearing before you pause as a hand comes up and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Your eyes shoot up and connect with his pretty blue ones. 

“Nothing to be sorry about, Baby. You got a name, beautiful?” You nod. He chuckles, “Not gonna share it?”

Your mouth opens and your face heats up again. “Oh! I’m sorry, it’s Y/n.” You begin to chew your bottom lip, staring at him again. 

“Beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Names Johnny.” He smirks again. “What do you say we get outta here, Baby girl?” And like that, your interest in him crashed and burned. 

You shook your head. “It was nice to meet you, Johnny.” You give him a small smile before you walk away. Unknowingly leaving the playboy shocked behind you. 

You had chosen a path that you didn’t know had been set out for you that day. Fate had created two, and if you had moved to the left a little bit two seconds before bumping into Johnny. You would’ve bumped into your other path. The path you were meant to take. 

That was the first time you had met each other, but it seemed the universe or fate wasn’t done with either of you just yet. The memory switched…

You were sitting in a small cafe, your laptop opened in front of you as a hot coffee sat beside it. Your brows were furrowed as you stared at the screen, not noticing the hot not so stranger walk in. Johnny looks around with a cocky look, trying to find someone he could take home when his eyes landed on you and his expression morphed into one of shock. 

You were the one that got away, a challenge. Johnny was rarely turned down, anyone and everyone wanted him. So why didn’t you? 

It seemed from the beginning you were always just a challenge for him to pursue and when he got you. He must’ve grown bored because once you’ve caught the thing that interested you, sparked something inside, made you curious to figure out. Was it really fun anymore? 

Johnny sauntered over, a smirk on his lips. “Hey, Baby girl.” You look up with wide eyes, not expecting to run into him here. It didn’t seem like his style. 

“Johnny…”

“It’s good to see you again, beautiful.” He licked his lips as his eyes danced over your body. You shift, your eyes darting between him and your laptop. He must’ve sensed something was wrong because his back straightened. “I’m sorry. I feel like we’ve come off on the wrong foot.” He did a spin, facing you with a playful smile. “Hi, I’m Johnny. It’s nice to meet you!”

You didn’t mean to, but a giggle slipped out. A giggle? You haven’t done that since you were a teenager and your crush spoke to you. Your lashes flutter as you look into his eyes, a smile making an appearance on your face. Your hand slips into his extended one, shaking it gently. “Hi, I’m Y/n.” 

After your second meeting, things seemed to hit off from there. You exchanged numbers and kept in touch, after speaking on the phone for two weeks. Johnny had asked you on a date. Your memory switched to when your relationship turned romantic…

You were extremely nervous, why was Johnny bothering with you? You knew what kind of guy he was. So, was this a play to get into your pants? You stared at yourself in the mirror, your lip had become puffy and red from how much you had been chewing on it. Your eyes scan your outfit, trying to spot a problem. You wore a slightly larger size, dark grey wool jumper with a black skirt. 

Johnny was taking you to a carnival and you didn’t want to overdress, but you also didn’t want to look horrible. So you went with a simple option, but you didn’t know if this was a good decision in the first place. Your brows furrowed, he had been nice. But what did he want with you? 

You shake your head of your thoughts before grabbing a clip to clip your hair back, only leaving a few strands out to frame your face. You then walk into your bathroom and apply some mascara and gloss, having to take some deep breaths as you feel so anxious. You couldn’t shake these nerves, somewhere deep inside. You felt like this was wrong. 

A knock at the door brings you out of it and you walk over with a smile you had practiced so many times in the mirror, wanting, needing to look perfect. You didn’t want everyone else to see the flaws you saw. 

Your biggest fear was that eventually he would see you the way you saw yourself.

He had looked hot that night, like he always did. You never knew what he saw in you. You remembered his reaction when you opened the door. 

Your body buzzes with nerves as you open the door, your eyes land on Johnny who looks away from something when he hears the door opening. His eyes landed on you, and they sparkled, scanning you from head to toe. “Wow… You look beautiful.” He licked his lips. He calls you beautiful like it’s your name, but why did it feel like a lie? “You ready to go?” You nod, following him out.

As you relive the memory, you realise so many signs you had missed. You should have seen it coming. The signs were flashing brightly in front of your face, but you were too blind to see. Everything flashes before your eyes so quickly, the night of your first date. He was looking at your new neighbour who had just moved in down the hall, she had just come home from work at the diner and caught his eye. You didn’t know that after your date when you wouldn’t let him in, that he would then knock on her door and end up in her bed. He didn’t cheat, but he wasn’t completely honest, and you didn’t know which was worse. You remembered the date, things that were once locked away in your mind to protect your heart were now unlocking before your eyes.

He took you to the carnival that you had been dying to go to, but you never had the time or the people to go with. You were so excited, practically bouncing on your feet as the lights caught your eye. Your smile so wide as you walked past the stalls and rides, your hand holding onto Johnny’s, eyes sparkling with happiness.

You were so busy looking around at the games that you missed the looks your date was giving others. From the beginning it seemed he wasn’t really in this for love. Oh god, why were you so blind? You pull him over to a game where you can win a bear, it wasn’t like the movies where the guy would offer to win the prize for you. Johnny just watched as you did it yourself. How did he trick you for so long? 

At some point in the date, you began to feel sad. Was he not that into you? You watched him for a bit before looking down at the food he bought, and the roles switched. Johnny watched you and he wondered why you looked so sad. He was good at seducing women into his bed, he wasn’t the greatest at the whole dating thing. 

“Do you want to go on the bumper cars? We can team up.” He didn’t know why he felt so nervous when asking, you were just a girl. What could be so scary about that? Johnny watched as your face lit up and you smiled. He liked when you smiled, it made him feel like he did something right. You nod and get up, not bothering to finish the food as you grab his hand and pull him towards the bumper cars. 

The date picked up a bit after that, you still missed the looks Johnny gave any pretty woman that looked his way. But he was more attentive, so you were happier. You didn’t feel so unattractive and boring. Toward the end of the date, he took you on the ferris wheel, kissing you at the top. You thought you had felt sparks as your lips touched. But they were only what you had wanted to feel. 

You pull out of the memory, tears streaming down your face as you remember that you never actually felt those sparks when your lips met his. Your memories continue to flash through your mind to distract you from the moans that have gotten louder. Johnny knew you were a deep sleeper, you guess that was why they didn’t even try to be quiet. Your second date he had taken you bowling, and you thought that maybe this could work. Then when your third date came around and he took you to a very fancy restaurant, you had a brief thought that maybe he forgot when you mentioned you preferred the simpler things in life. After your third date, Johnny had become more handsy and because of how blind you were, you thought you loved him and ended up in his bed. 

You don’t know why you two got married. You had wanted it, the relationship was still thriving… Well, on your side it was. Johnny would be gone sometimes, but you brushed it off because of how sweet the relationship was sometimes. 

Your ears ring as your mind blocks out the moans and you are dragged back into another memory, the one where you got your first apartment together. 

You held his hand as you both walked into the tenth apartment that week, nothing had caught your eye yet, nothing seemed to call out to you. But this one felt good, it was in your price range and had the things you were looking for. Johnny seemed semi interested, but he had told you to choose what you liked before going back to his phone. 

“Johnny, what do you think?” You wanted him to decide as well. You tugged slightly on his hand as you looked up at him, waiting for him to look up from his phone. He hums, removing his eyes from the screen before he looks around and nods, leaning down to place a kiss on your head. 

“It’s perfect, Babe.” You smiled, everything in that moment felt perfect. You stared off, this was the beginning of your life. This would be the place where your relationship would blossom. You and Johnny had gotten the apartment that day. 

When the day came to finally move your stuff in and get things sorted. You had gotten into a fight.

“Will you just leave me the fuck alone?! God! I need my fucking space!” Johnny screamed, his glare set on you. 

“I just wanted to know where you were!” You screamed back, anger dripped from your words. “You knew we had things planned today! Yet, you decide that going out last night was more important! Why the hell are you only coming home now, Johnny?! It’s nine–thirty in the fucking morning!” You had forgotten this fight or more specifically what it was about. You can’t remember why you kept forgetting the bad?

He throws his hand up, “I stayed at a friend’s house! Is that a fucking problem?!” 

“Yes. We had times set for when we had to be there, we still have things we need to do.”

“Why couldn’t you just do it? Do you seriously need me for everything? I came fucking apartment hunting with you when I could’ve been out!” Your anger started to rise when he opened his phone, now paying more attention to it than you. Who was he texting all the time? 

But sadness began to overweigh the anger with your next words. “...We were supposed to do this together, WE as a couple. Not I or me, I wanted you to have a say as well…” You sigh, shaking your head before you grab your things and walk past him. “I’ll just do it myself… It’s fine.” You gulp, swallowing the tears.

You remember that was your first fight and on the way out of his place, you bumped into someone.

“I’m so sorry!” You quickly say as you shake your head, lifting your hand to quickly wipe away a stray tear that fell. 

“I’m so sorry!” The stranger says at the same time, their hands immediately reaching out to steady you as you stumble.

You look up, your eyes connecting to the most beautiful blue eyes you have ever seen. You didn’t know that he thought the same about your eyes and you both stared at each other for a bit, a whole life together flashed before both of your eyes before a throat cleared.

You turn your head and feel your cheeks heat up, there stood a gorgeous redhead and of course this guy had a girlfriend, he was so dreamy… AND you had a boyfriend too! How could you forget that by just looking into his eyes? You clear your throat, stepping back a bit. The woman smirks, her eyes move between you and the man, as if she figured out something before anyone else. “Sorry for interrupting this love at first sight moment, but we gotta go.” 

He nods, even though his cheeks turn a pretty pink and you’re sure if you touched yours, they’d be hot. “I’m sorry again for bumping into you, ma’am. Have a nice day.” He leaves with the prettiest smile you have ever seen, he leaves before you can even learn his name… 

Now you remember why you forgot the fight… The moment you looked into the strangers eyes, the whole world disappeared and the only thing you could see, feel, smell was him. It felt like everything had connected, like your souls had finally found each other after searching for so long. It all felt like this was what was meant to be but was suddenly pulled away with each step he took as he left. Leaving your souls to search for one another again.

He was your soulmate. You didn’t know it, yet. But you’ll find him in the next life like you had found him in this one. 

You were broken out of your trance at the sound of the door opening behind you. You turn around and see Johnny, he seemed in a rush with his face no longer in his phone and keys gripped tightly in his hand. “Thank god! I thought you’d be far by now!” Johnny pulls you into a hug and kisses your head. “I’m sorry, Babe. I should've been here at the time we said.” He pulls back and looks down at you. “Are you ready to go?”

You nod, walking with him but your mind is on someone else, and you feel so god damn guilty. You looked at your boyfriend to try and get the thoughts of someone else out of your head, but to no avail. You didn’t even know the guy’s name. How could he possibly make you feel more than you do with Johnny?

You finally made it to your new apartment, you had called ahead when you realised that you weren’t going to make it at the said time. Thankfully, they had been understanding. 

When the two of you entered your new home. It didn’t exactly feel like it just yet, the place was empty except for the boxes filled with your belongings. The furniture you and Johnny had picked out hadn’t arrived, but you guess you could work around that. 

As you were in the middle of unpacking some boxes, you noticed Johnny on his phone and frowned, wondering what had him smiling like that. Your question was answered as music filled the room and he placed his phone down before walking over to you with a smile. The empty apartment was now filled with laughter as you both danced around, not caring if the moves were perfect or not. You laugh as you fall into him, and his arms wrap around you. This is why you could push through all the bad, because there was still the good.

Yes, you could see it. Finally, it feels like our life together can start. He leans down, eyes slipping closed as his lips press flush against yours. Still no sparks, but that was okay. Because he was the one you wanted.

Now you remember why you two had married. Because in that moment, the man, Johnny’s disappearances and late nights, the stress of finding a new home and your questions on if he was the one had disappeared. Vanished as he held you in his arms, in your new home as he kissed you. Feeling happier than you had felt for so long.

You lay in bed, with every moan you could feel your heart break over and over again. All the good that once flooded your memories had been replaced with every sound that slipped from that room, no longer filled with love and happiness. You were no longer going to think of your wedding day or any other day that meant something to you, because they were all lies. You had realised too late that your relationship was a joke, Johnny had gotten better with hiding his man whorish ways. 

“Fuck, I love you, beautiful.” The words were muffled, but it sounded so loud in your head. Those words seemed to be the final nail in the coffin. 

He calls you beautiful like it was your name. It echoed, tore into your heart. Your heart barely tore at the I love you he had announced. That wasn’t the word that hurt the most, no… It was the name he had called you, now uttered against her lips, skin, soul. Etched into her being as though she was the only one, he was seeing. You felt like you could no longer breathe, like you were drowning and there was no way to come up for air. You knew it felt like a lie.

Have you ever felt like you did everything right and it still went all wrong? Like you weren’t living the life you were meant for? 

You fell asleep heartbroken and tired. It hurt when you realised you weren’t as important to someone as you thought you were. Sometime late in the night or early morning, you felt Johnny slip into your bed and the feeling made your skin crawl, you felt sick. Your heart clenched in your chest before you finally fell back into a dreamless sleep. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[moonyasnow]

We Both Go Down Together.

PROMPT :

CHARACTERS : Ruggie, Kalim

CONTENT : Implied romantic relationship, Reader comes from a privileged background(Ruggie's part), Reader had abusive/neglectful childhood(Kalim's part), I've been obsessed with this song since I first heard it and now I'm making it everyone else's problem

...You come from parents wanton A childhood rough and rotten I come from wealth and beauty Untouched by work or duty...

...And my parents will never consent to this love But I hold your hand...

...And oh, my love, my love We both go down together.

Ruggie

Ruggie Bucchi, next to most other students of his Dorm, stood almost a head shorter; a result of not getting proper nutrition growing up in the slums of the Sunset Savannah and having to scrape by with little money for food, clothes...or anything, really. With a dead mother and absent father, growing up raised by his grandmother in a little slum-town, homemade donuts substituted for the birthday cake they could not afford. The circles he ran in were similarly destitute, perhaps chancing upon someone middle-class every now and then, and finally lucking out in becoming the second prince of the Sunset Savannah's errand boy.

You grew up in a beautiful lakeside villa with your family, and had a housekeeper who made your food and helped with your homework while your parents weren't home to sit down with you. You had fond memories of yearly vacations to faraway locations each year; shores of crystal white sand lapped at by cerulean waves, luxurious alpine mountain cabins, emerald green golf courses, high-end fashion boutiques in every Capital, a photo in front of every World Wonder. Your friends were those from equally influential families, ones your parents arranged for you, classmates from similar backgrounds.

When he first met you and saw your eminently cared for appearance, he immediately clocked you as some kind of rich kid. He thought you might be one of those lazy ones like Leona, or intensely naïve like Kalim. For his sake, he hoped for the latter.

Much to his surprise then when it turned out that, while certainly a bit naïve, you were aware of and wanted to change that. You kinda had to, now that you'd suddenly fallen from the lap of luxury and ended up in the same position as him; effectively homeless, getting an education through the goodwill of others, who made you clean up after them. And so you asked him to help you, figuring he would have good advice, which you certainly weren't wrong about.

It was a struggle for you, so used to having others care for you that you'd barely cooked a meal for yourself before. As he watched your soft hands slowly collect cuts, blemishes and callouses, he felt strange. He was happy to help you learn. But he didn't want this for you. For as envious as he was that you'd known the Good Life, of being born with a silver spoon in your mouth and never having to worry about where your next meal was gonna come from, he was happy for you that you'd had that. And to see you become accustomed to hard work for the first time...

He obviously knew it wasn't his fault, If anything he was easing the burden by teaching you tips, tricks and shortcuts to make the work easier. But he still felt like he was...'dirtying' you in some way as he did so. You were never meant to know that life, of needing to know the kinds of things he'd teach you. But he kept it all in his head, showing you a small smile each time you greeted him, laughing when you thanked him for his advice and promised to pay it back to him. As much as he might've known it was just the smart thing to do, he didn't want to accept any kind of payment from you. You were both in the same boat, as far as he was concerned, and he kinda tricked you into helping with his own errands while 'teaching you' how to do stuff like that, so in his mind the debt was already paid. But he couldn't say no to spending more time with you. You'd...grown on him. Far more than he ever expected you to.

There was another thing he kept in his head. Something he'd probably never tell you.

As soon as he heard precisely what kind of mega-rich and elitist family you were from, he was...happy...that you had no way back home.

He loved his own family, his Granny and the other kids on his street, and now you, more than words could ever say. That was why he did everything he did, after all: to provide for them, and maybe even be able to make those slums he was born in a better place one day if he had the spare cash. He knew how much it would crush him to never be able to see them again, and he felt bad you had to be put in that position. So that's why he felt conflicted.

Because while he might not have told you as much yet, by now you really were like family to him. He'd imagined a future with you. He'd grown up never letting himself imagine any specific kind of future, so he wouldn't get his hopes up. Not like he could imagine one with another specific person anyway, being so used to doing everything himself. But after a lot of time spent getting to truly know you, and even longer learning to trust you...he'd imagined a future with you. And that made you as close to 'it' for him as anyone could possibly be.

And the thought of losing that, losing you, either to the way back being a one-way-trip, or to your parents taking one looking at him, deeming him 'street trash' and forbidding you from seeing him again... It was scary. It even made him cry a little.

But one thought in the back of his mind made him feel a little bit better. The thought of your parents disowning you as well for associating with someone like him.

It was selfish. Obviously. He knew that very well. It hurt for a second to think he wanted something like that for you. His parents were gone, and he grew up close to squalor, but you still had yours, even if in another world, and they could provide everything you might need for you. If you just went back you were practically guaranteed the Good Life, and if you stayed in Twisted Wonderland with him you were guaranteed to struggle and toil and stress just like him, juggling multiple jobs until either he or you somehow managed to strike the job jackpot.

But he just wanted you by his side so bad.

...So bad he'd drag you down into the mud with him, soiling your pristine clothes, if it meant he got to be with you.

It'd be up to you to be stronger, smarter- whatever- than him if you wanted out, because now that he knew that's what he wanted, he was gonna try his hardest to get it.

He just hoped that if it came to it, you wouldn't regret growing so close to him.

Kalim

Kalim Al-Asim was born and raised in a palace, to wealthy parents employing 100 servants in their household. Upon his birth a parade had been thrown in his honor, him laid in his mother's arms, surrounded by the other two, atop an elephant, soft and plush fabric lined with spun gold shielding them from the sun. Loud, extravagant music was played by a live band following in the parade and all manners of confetti and flower petals were thrown in the air to celebrate the birth of the next Asim family heir.

You were born in a small, dingy apartment with the help of your parents' neighbor, your father not present, instead off at some bar or another wasting away that month's money. When it was done and your mother held you, she stared down at you with cold, bitter eyes as you cried. She then promptly left you on a blanket on the ground to go clean the blood on the floor, cursing you and your father under her breath.

He had the best private tutors in both school subjects and magic that money could buy, and while no means an academic prodigy, was praised often as he learned. He had too many toys and books and games to ever be able to count, sharing all of them with his many siblings and his closest friend and retainer, who had been by his side all their lives.

You never went to school simply because your parents never bothered to enroll you, and you only learned to read thanks to one of the older kids in your neighborhood being kinder to you than you thought you deserved. You had one stuffed animal, which was your only friend. You held it close. Treasured it. It was the only thing in the world that was yours.

Simply put, your backgrounds could not possibly be more different. And it showed, on both of you. His skin was clean, smooth and unblemished, yours off-color, gaunt and scarred. You couldn't understand why you of all people were the one he fell for. He shone like the sun. You were like a dirtied, dusty cooking pot, too rusty and worn to reflect anything.

When he found out about the rot and turmoil and taste of tears, dust and blood that was your childhood, he didn't judge you. You felt a bit silly for thinking he would; that just wasn't him, after all.

You didn't understand why he seemed sad seeing the state of Ramshackle. Sure, it wasn't the prettiest Dorm, but it could have been a lot worse. If anything, you felt anxious having such a large house to yourself. And you couldn't understand ever becoming used to living the way he did-- in luxury, never wanting for anything, always having people around him who cared, who would take care of and protect him.

He couldn't imagine what that would be like: having no one to care for you…having to grow up caring for yourself. But he did think it sounded awful. So he made up his mind to never let you experience that again.

He decided he would heap jewels and pretty clothes and good food on you every day for the rest of your life! Because he loved you. He loved you so, so, so much! And he'd give you every good and pretty thing money could buy, because you deserved it, and money was the one thing he had more of than he could ever need, or even spend in one lifetime. So of course he'd shower his beloved, his Hayati, in gold and jewels and riches and everything.

He would carve out the moon from the sky and give it to you on a silver— no, golden platter if you asked him to.

He couldn't understand why you seemed…scared, because of it. Why you started crying when he gave you the most elaborate necklace yet.

You didn't care about his money. You truly didn't. In fact, it intimidated you. You were scared that others would think that was what you cared about. You felt so guilty partaking in the feasts present at his parties, even when he was the one practically begging you to try it. You thought you could feel the eyes of every other person at the party watching you, judging you, thinking 'gold digger' or 'leech' or other synonyms. It became hard to breathe sometimes. But the way he held you so tightly, cleaning off the grime and neglect coating your being enough for you to begin to reflect his sunshine for the first time…through it, it became a little easier each day, to believe that you truly could— did— deserve him.

But then your worst fears came true: his parents didn't approve of you. Of you being with him. They, just as you'd feared, were apprehensive about letting you be with their son due to your background. Not only were you practically homeless with barely a Thaumark to your name, you had no proof you even existed as who you said you were, and had nothing and no one else to fall back on.

Just as you loved him, he loved you more than anything. He was so sure that his parents would love you too... He was completely blindsided when they didn't approve of you. He couldn't understand nor did he wish to believe that anyone, least of all his own family, could be so cruel— for that's how he saw it.

But in retrospect, you felt you should have expected that to be their answer. How does that look, for someone like you to be with someone of his status?

You'd never had much in life. But now you had him. Someone who, for once, loved you unconditionally. You didn't always know how exactly to deal with that fact...but you'd resolved to figure out how. Because you loved him. And the thought of that, this sense of safety, of him, being taken from you as soon as you'd started to become accustomed to the possibility of being allowed to keep them...

You cried that night. You were so scared that his parents would forbid the two of you from being together. Or worse yet, forbid him from even seeing you at all.

To try to soothe you, he took you with him on the magic carpet up high into the sky, where there were no one but you and him for miles. No one who could forbid you from crying into his silk, gold thread and sequence clothes, nor him from gently kissing each of your tears away and assuring you it would be alright. He knew his parents would come around eventually.

It didn't matter to him how many times his parents or other senior staff or relatives tried to explain to him the reasons for why they objected to your love. He'd already decided he wouldn't listen to it. None of their 'reasons' were good enough. Just excuses. Because he knew you weren't like that.

…He didn't say it then, because he knew you probably wouldn't like hearing it, but if his parents never came around…

…He wouldn't hesitate to give everything up for you.

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This was incredibly self-indulgent but I hope you still liked it!

I just kinda wanted to get it cleared out of my drafts, heh... ; O vO)

Also to that person who sent me a writing request, it's being worked on! ^^

[raainberry]

compliments to the chef

Momo x gn!reader

synopsis - momo falls for her new chef’s flavor🤭 (she’s the sole heiress of the Hirai culinary empire and hiring you spices things up a lot more than she intended.)

wordcount - 14K (please don’t say damn when you see the price)

T/W - kinda chaebol!momo - chef!reader - mentions of food, knifes etc… - nothing violent tho - slowburn? but make it angsty? - light cussing - you lowkey hate each other but not really - enemies to lovers? - guest starring bc that’s fun - that’s all i can think of, tell me if i missed anything

Momo sent a polite smile to the man sitting across from her. The fourteenth in the past half hour.

She’s been keeping count, along with the minutes, the grains of rice left on her plate, and the amount of times he’s mentioned one of his accomplishments.

Thirty-three, seventy-eight, and six; in that order. Only two questions about her so far, one if you remove the one about her name.

She almost left right then and there, but the respect she had for her mother weighed her down on that chair. If she wasn’t going to take over the family empire, the least she could do was find a worthy successor.

A soft sigh escaped her as she pushed her food around. Being an only child was way more fun when all it meant was that she didn’t have to share it with anyone. Or get it stolen, according to the venting of her friends when younger.

She finished the few bites left, trying to drown out the sound of his voice by focusing on the flavours. She closes her eyes, appreciating their delicate yet bold dancing on the tip of her tongue.

Maybe it was the boredom clinging onto whatever could keep her mind entertained, but the taste reminded her of herself. A small smile spread across her lips, the first real one of the day.

The next one came when the man asked for the bill. Her lungs could finally grasp the air around her, her nose picking up on the different notes and aromas of the dishes around her.

She sent her compliments to the chef, adding to them a generous tip she had no idea who’s pockets it’d really land in. It’s the thought that counts.

Her senses were in heaven walking out, engraving her mind with a memory that will stick longer than the guy who’d just made her split the bill, unevenly that is.

“Let me take you home.” He said once out front. His hand held the door open to the leather seats of a luxurious car she was too familiar with.

“Oh, no it’s fine thank you.” She declined quickly. “I actually have a meeting scheduled right after this.”

“I can drop you off.”

Momo almost laughed. She found his use of the personal pronoun very funny. She almost forgot he would just be sitting near her some more while the chauffeur did the sexiest part. If the latter were to her taste, she’d have driven off with her.

“I’d rather not.” She declined. “Business confidentiality and whatnot.”

The lie was forced through an awkward smile that he found endearing enough not to question. Relief washed over her when he finally let go of her, climbing into the car, but not without asking her to keep in touch.

Another sigh, a heavy one, loaded with all those she’d held back until now as she watched the car drive away. The pressure was off, but only for a second as her thoughts soon spiraled.

No way she had to do this again… She reached in her purse, looking for the one thing that could get her out of here.

All this junk, where is it—

“You’re awful at lying.”

Her phone almost dropped to its death from the startle you gave her.

Momo had a few questions at the sight of you. Your presence and your eavesdropping were the first, but the white apron half folded around your waist and the cigarette in your hand answered most of them.

“What,” was all she managed to say though, and a smile pulled on your lips.

“I mean, I’m not fond of lies, but when you’re famous for turning your back on business, you should probably come up with a better excuse.”

“Who even are you?”

“Right, I guess that’s fair. I’m Y/n. You’re Momo, right? Hirai?”

“Y-Yeah.” Her eyes squinted, desperately trying to see what you were leading to.

Your name sounded as unfamiliar as you looked, but you seemed well informed. She didn’t like that.

“Nice to meet you,” You greeted simply, eyeing the contrast between her features and the neat clothes on her back, “So how bad was it? You look… Worn out.”

Her chuckle was distasteful, and she tried to suppress its bitterness at the reminder of her lost time. “Awful. The food caught my eye more than he could ever hope.”

You smiled, “He wasn’t bad looking.”

“But he was a bore.” She argued. “Borderline narcissistic too.”

“Deal breaker then?” You guessed, turning her laughter a little sweeter.

“Pretty much.” Her gaze found the ground in a nod before focusing back on you. “I do like it better when it’s a two way conversation.”

“Does that make me cute?”

She scoffed at the brazen question. “You wish.”

“I don’t.” You dropped your cigarette on the ground, stepping on it in a way she found more hot than revolting to her surprise. That cheeky smile of yours was most likely to blame. “Thank you for the compliments by the way. I’m glad you liked it.”

Your bow was quick, desultory out of rehearsed respectfulness. As much as you appreciated her compliments, you had better things to do in the kitchen that could get you some more.

You caught a glimpse of her jaw dropping on your way back in, and it was enough of a sight to revel in for a few days.

—

It took Momo a couple weeks to pick her jaw back up and swallow her pride. It seemed as though the latter was the only thing she inherited from her family, and she managed to set herself apart yet again.

Her parents would have never set foot in your restaurant again. Not that you had lacked respect or anything, but the fact that you managed to set her off balance… Something about it she didn’t particularly like.

Why was she back then?

You asked yourself that same question when you stormed out of the kitchen at her request. If it weren’t for your manager and his speech about image and reputation, you never would have allowed her to interrupt you and abandon your brigade mid-shift.

Hands on your hips, dragging your feet, you walked into the office she awaited you in and felt your voice die down on your tongue at the sight.

Beauty or surprise, either way it came down to her presence.

The way her hair fell down her back, delicate and blending in with the fabric of her perfectly tailored shirt. The sleek black attire formed a shadow, painting a hole cut against her silhouette and into the spring she admired in the sakura tree out the bay window.

“Hi.” She smiled, her voice a fitting melody to the sights now behind her. Enchanting, sure, but odd.

She wasn’t exactly known to be a warm one to strangers. More power to her, you could understand that. But why didn’t it apply to you?

If it weren’t for the stories associated with that voice suddenly popping into your mind, she’d have lured you in. Nothing too bad about them; only testaments of her success. Rumors about the danger surrounding her, setting her apart from her family. You didn’t care for the big industry names, but theirs always had you curious.

“You asked for me?” Your voice rang in the quiet space.

Momo didn’t seem to notice your apprehension, her smile ever so welcoming, “I did.”

It felt as though she owned the place for a second.

“Do you have some more compliments?” You wondered, eyes following her figure as she went to take a seat in the armchair across your manager’s desk.

“I do actually.” She turned the seat to face you as she mused, “That black cod was to die for.”

You nodded, thankful. “Glad you liked it.”

As much as you didn’t like the way her family capitalized on the food you took such care to value, you couldn’t deny their expertise. Even if not a lot to you, Momo’s compliment did mean something.

“But that’s not all.” Her voice pulled your eyes back on her.

You found her posture quite imposing, matching her tone, but her infamous shyness was something she never got around to master. Her gaze held yours but it lacked control.

It was hard to ignore how endearing the attempt looked to you. It just made you want to give her whatever she wanted. Reward her efforts.

“What is it?” You wondered, curious.

What could she possibly want from you? This restaurant wasn’t yours. The only thing you had control over was the kitchen.

“I want you to cook for me.” She said, and you didn’t leave room for a breath before responding, “Excuse me?”

“I meant I’d like to hire you.” She clarified, a smirk dancing on her lips at your transparent thoughts. You tried to make sense of her proposal, but she didn’t waste any time in providing details. “I’m sure you’re familiar—the annual Hirai banquet my mother holds for shareholders. I never cared for the specifics, but I want to do good by her. I haven’t been the best daughter lately so I thought I’d make it up to her by holding it this year.”

It all clicked at the mention of her mother. Of course she wouldn’t be back with her own motives.

The Hirai Culinary Group was an empire. A home to the most prestigious restaurants of the country. All housing different specialties, techniques and themes… Quite a whole lot to manage yet the quality remained flawless. Fifty years of irreproachable cuisine, you could only respect it. If only they didn’t care about business so much…

Those banquets were popular, talk of the town within the industry as it usually set the next trends and whatnot. Make no mistakes, you were tuned in as well. They did bring in some interesting elements, but you hated the way they set it all up. A disguised year-end performance meeting. White collars expecting numbers and being served them on gold plates, horizons and growth perspectives hidden in desserts.

“So she’s actually the one that asked for me.” You smirked, unexpecting of the way she’d wipe it off just a second later.

“No.” She said simply, a serene smile gracing her lips. “Why would she know about you?”

You scoffed. Good point. You could recognize that despite the blow to your ego.

“Fair enough.” You nodded. “But why should I help you?”

“Help me?” She repeated, a hint of offense creeping into her whole being. “I’m offering you to work with me.”

Perhaps she wasn’t that much of an ugly duckling among the Hirai’s.

“My question still stands. Why should I?”

A silence followed your words, hanging low over your heads and expecting the next ones to come out of her. Hopefully they’d be good enough.

Momo’s gaze suddenly drifted from yours, finding interest in her surroundings. A few details she’d noticed earlier, various frames highlighting the establishment’s foundations. She could count three of them : its history, the owner and visibly the most important—you.

“Are you happy here?” She finally spoke, tearing her eyes away from your latest reward.

“I am.”

“I’m sure you are,” she remarked, tone striking a nerve. “Highest rank, valued both within and outside—you’re basically ruling the place…”

“What’s your point?” You asked, growing impatient.

“You’ve hit the ceiling, Y/n. It’s time for a new challenge, don’t you think?”

Silence enveloped you again as you found yourself contemplating her proposition.

Momo took the sight as a sign of her job being done here, and you watched as she left her business card on the desk before gracefully excusing herself; leaving you to deal with your internal struggle.

—

In the days that followed, her offer continued to linger in your thoughts, and with each passing day, the idea of a new challenge began to take root in your mind.

It spread enough to takeover a good portion of it, sending it all elsewhere. Far enough for your closest friend here and sous-chef to notice.

“What’s up with you, you’ve been all over the place lately.” Jeongyeon asked after you nearly knocked an nth plate to the floor.

“Nothing, I’m fine.” You met her gaze and it was enough to backtrack on your words “Okay, fine there is something, but… I don’t know it’s pointless.”

The empty pot you were carrying resonated as you put it back into its designated place, partially covering Jeongyeon’s words. “Does it have to do with that Hirai girl?”

“How do you know?”

“It’s the only thing out of the ordinary enough to throw you off your game.” She chuckled, drying her hands on her apron.

Weird way to tell you to live a little more, but okay.

“So what did she say to you?” She sighed, leaning her back against the sink. “What even happened in the office, you never told us.”

“Well…” You trailed off, gettng that business card out of your back pocket. You handed it to her, and it took her a second to notice what it was.

“What are you waiting for?” She scoffed, causing your eyebrows to furrow together.

“What do you mean?”

“Whatever she proposed just accept it, Y/n”

You spotted a hint of annoyance in her voice, but you had trouble seeing if it was about you or Momo. She sure was scrubbing that counter pretty hard.

“Why?” You asked, watching as she practically polished that stainless steel by hand. Something bothered you, and it wasn’t her cleaning technique. “Are you not even gonna fight for me?”

Jeongyeon paused to look at you, catching the slight pout on your lips. Her own twisted along her features in disgust, teasing you, and you let out your first laugh of the day.

“I should be the one asking you that.” She pointed out. “The fact that you haven’t thrown that card as soon as she left tells me enough.”

“I was just thinking about it…” You admitted, only proving her point.

Jeongyeon chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re past the point of even considering it, I mean… You’ve been walking around with that business card glued to your ass for the past week, yet you haven’t told me a thing about it.”

“You think you know me so well.” You grimaced. It was playful, but part of you wanted to provoke her. You didn’t blame her for that small jab at you, but it did hurt to think she didn’t put turning your back on this place past you.

She did know you so well, though. That’s why she continued to argue her point.

“What is there to think about, y/n? The heiress of the most acclaimed and prestigious restaurant chain of the country is asking for you. No sane person would say no, never mind a chef!”

The sigh that pushed past your lips came as far back as your lungs.

“Would you say yes?” You hesitated after a while, but her answer was much faster. “With no remorse.”

“I mean, have you seen her?” She added and you laughed.

“Fine. I guess I’ll call her…” You picked up the card from the counter and stared at her name.

Well… It’s not like she had asked you to quit your job…

—

“Oh, that’s exactly what I’m asking you to do.”

“What?!”

Momo pulled the phone away from her ear at the sheer volume of your voice through the speaker. How unprofessional. Her eyes rolled soon after, once she registered what your reaction held and meant for her plans.

“Y/n, this isn’t some side hustle for your experience.” she sighed, “I’m offering you the opportunity of a lifetime. If this all goes well, you could become our youngest chef in history.”

A point was made. As much as you were cautious of her voice, it seemed you couldn’t do much about the way it managed to get to you. The words she used were ambitious, they spoke to you.

But she failed to measure just how ambitious you were.

“Why can’t I do both?” You finally asked, prompting a string of arguments being thrown to one another. A futile game of ping-pong you were determined to win, only irritating the woman at the other end of the line.

All this whining, it was like dealing with a child, and truthfully you felt like one. Asking for the best of both worlds seemed completely reasonable to you, so why wouldn’t she give it to you.

“Listen, you can’t give your all to something if your attention is split in two.” She said, losing the last bit of patience she managed to keep today. “You can’t expect to grow by splitting yourself in half, and if you think otherwise, then consider my proposal void.”

A small silence fell over the line. She made sense. She was right. So why couldn’t you bring yourself to accept it?

“If you actually stepped foot in a kitchen once in your life you’d know two isn’t even the minimum.” You scoffed.

Whatever you wanted to mean by that… even you didn’t know, but apparently it was worth thinking over as you heard Momo sigh.

The woman closed her eyes to think.

Why couldn’t you just say yes like everyone else she approached. Maybe she should have made you say it back in the office, use that pathetic confidence of yours against you.

Oh how easy you were to read and see through. Pushing buttons was so much easier when people stood in front of her.

That’s why she hated phone calls. How could she know what to say—oh.

The light bulb went off over her head.

Right… That pathetic confidence of yours.

“I’ll step in if you do.”

—

It shouldn’t have been so easy.

All it took was a half-genuine smile, and a simple promise to make things different this year with a focus on the culinary side of things. Sure, she had to admit to scouting the area in search of the most skilled and promising, which eventually lead her to your restaurant, and then… you. But it was all ego strokes. Child’s play.

Part of her was disappointed. She’d hoped for a little more resistance, a challenge promised by your initial tone and attitude towards her.

“Damn it!”

She should be more careful about what she wishes for… Momo sighed, expecting your face to peek in by the doorframe of the manager’s office, and it did just seconds later.

“Momo, it’s not working.”

“What isn’t?” She said, confused. Machinery’s top-notch, brigade is her best, there was no way anything would stop working out of nowhere.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing, just come and see.”

Momo stared at you, noticing a smile fighting to make its way onto your lips. She was apprehensive but followed you anyway.

You’d been working on a technical plate : a type of hybrid dish-dessert. An ambitious idea you’d prompted to Momo during one of the early meetings to work the menu out.

Only she had to make it an order. A boring one and near impossible to pull off. She wouldn’t listen, so you decided to show her.

As you led her to the kitchen, you couldn't help but start venting away about everything that went down since the last time she'd stepped foot in there, which was a day or two ago.

"So, first, the soufflé collapsed twice because someone—I won't name names, but it rhymes with 'intern’—forgot to preheat the oven."

Momo sighed internally. Why were you so fixated on every little mistake? Who cares about interns and their mistakes, that’s what they’re here for. She could excuse a non-preheated oven, but forgetting her birthday? Yeah, that Boo Seungkwan is definitely off the list. He had a good run, only regret was he was good with her dogs. And nice maybe.

"Then, the new mixer decided it wanted to be a blender, and let's not even talk about the chocolate ganache incident."

She nodded absently, her mind drifting to the text she received earlier from another potential suitor. The daughter of her family ‘s right hand man, Jihyo if she remembered correctly? The Park’s had a rocky history though, she took note to raise her guard on that one before your voice pulled her back.

"And of course, the sugar sculpture? Total disaster."

Momo glanced at you, wondering if you realized how whiny you sounded. She had bigger fish to fry than a failed sugar sculpture, like figuring out if she even wanted to leave this family business. If it meant she had to deal with one more daddy’s pocket leech…

"On the bright side, we finally perfected the citrus glaze for the salmon, and the guests couldn't get enough of the hors d'oeuvres last night, so I guess the test was a success.."

When you finally stopped talking and walking, she found herself face to face with an… interesting looking thing on a plate.

“What is that?” She said, dumbfounded.

“Oh, that’s the lemon pie thing you asked for.” You answered nonchalantly. “I told you it wouldn’t work.”

“Are you serious?” Her stance and tone changed, cold and threatening like you had the joy of experiencing earlier this month. Didn’t shake you anymore though. The dumb smile on your face was still there, dangerously creeping into a smirk. She couldn’t wipe it for some reason.

“Yeah, that sucks. I guess I lost three hours of my life.” You shrugged, eyes lingering on the edible failure staining the porcelain. “Doesn’t taste bad, though.” You handed her a piece with a spoon you’d clearly already used, and Momo’s stare hardened.

“Fix this.”

Obviously, you would. But you couldn’t let it happen without messing with her first. So you stared right back into her eyes, holding her gaze just long enough to make her doubt and fear the opposite. The tension hung thick in the air, reaching a new high, until she finally broke away and walked off, her frustration evident in every step.

You watched her walk, the smirk now very apparent and mocking her back.

“I’ll do just that, you don’t have to worry.” You cupped your hands around your lips to make sure she heard it, distracting a few chefs around you.

You were oblivious to the looks they threw your way, your gaze was focused on Momo’s retreating figure.

"I'll leave you some on your desk, make sure to try it!” That smirk was evident on your lips, and she could hear it in your voice, feel it getting under her skin.

You were a challenge alright. A damn good one.

—

Momo walked back into the building only days later. You frowned at the sight of her, shoulders obviously tense paired with familiar sour features. The exposed skin told you a lot about her potential whereabouts these past few days. Added to the rumors going around, it didn’t leave that much of a mystery…

“Oh, we’re cooked.” Ryujin, the intern, mumbled under her breath, catching yours and a chef’s attention.

“Yeah, we should have seen it coming.” The chef, Mingyu, sighed, dropping a heavy pan on top of the counter beside you.

“Why, what happened?” You asked, easing yourself into their conversation.

Ryunjin’s eyes widened, startled by the interruption. “I uh,” she stammered before Mingyu spoke up.

“Word on the street is, her father set her up with Park's daughter.” He chuckled to himself, making you curious.

“Park’s daughter… The Park branch daughter?” You asked, the name ringing more and more familiar. “You mean Jihyo? Isn’t she managing the H-Lounge?”

H-Lounge was a private, high end rooftop lounge managed by Mr.Park, Mr.Hirai’s right hand man. Big bar, little food, and big walls; a white collar’s favorite and the Hirai’s most profitable branch. From what you knew, Jihyo’s been pretty much running things for years now, her father only still there because of Momo’s.

“Yeah, but she’s on her way to the throne basically. Her dad’s been pushing for her to take the reins for a while now. Old man’s tired.” Mingyu commented, pulling a laugh out of Ryujin.

You squinted, watching as Momo disappeared around the corner to her office.

“Yeah. But didn’t they try to go solo with the Lounge once?” Ryujin asked, furrowing her eyebrows as she recalled rumors from a year ago. “Sounds kinda fishy.”

“And shady.” Mingyu nodded. “Seems to me like Boss Hirai’s desperate to make her stay.”

“Which one?”

You were confused out of your mind, and Mingyu could tell. He was amused when you met his eyes, begging for some clarity.

“Both,” he said. “Power play. Or two birds one stone type of deal. A Park-Hirai marriage would be beyond convenient for him—Jihyo’s a hot head, she could never hold this whole thing together without Momo stepping in at one point, he knows that. It’s the only way he gets to keep both of his most precious assets.”

You shook your head. There was no way. The idea didn’t even match with the Momo you knew. "I don't see it. Momo's way too stubborn and prideful to let something like this happen to her. She's not the type to be manipulated like that."

"You think?" Ryujin asked, raising an eyebrow.

You nodded. "Yeah. I mean, you see how she handles things... Father or not, she won't just bend to someone else's will.”

Mingyu shook his head, a knowing look in his eyes glued on Momo’s figure passing by. "I think she already is..."

You all watched as she disappeared around the corner to her office, and you noticed her shoulders slump for the briefest of moments

It was a slight, almost imperceptible shift, but it struck you deeply for some reason. For the first time, you saw a crack in that impossibly unyielding façade.

A mix of concern and confusion washed over you. Despite the fierce exterior she projected on that comeback walk, there was clearly more weighing on her than she let on. Could Mingyu be right? Was Momo already being pulled back into the company's grasp, despite that stubborn pride of hers?

You felt a rush of protectiveness overcome you, but quickly pushed it aside. What a useless, unbased feeling. Momo was fine. She wouldn't let herself be manipulated so easily… Right?

You pondered on the question for a while, but came up with the same answer every time.

She’ll be fine.

You sighed as the day wound down, leaning against a counter. Your gaze wandered to the door to Momo’s office, finding it closed as always. Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen nor heard it open since earlier that afternoon…

Was she still there?

Curiosity and concern got the better of you, and you decided to take the opportunity to show her the new and improved lemon pie she’d asked you to fix.

You made your way to her office, the building now eerily quiet. You didn’t wait for an answer before walking in. It was surprisingly dark, only lit by a small hanging light attached to the wall above the desk. This place was such a broom closet… You almost felt sorry for her then remembered what she’d told you.

"Technically this is still the kitchen, this wall is literal plastic."

You mentally scoffed at the memory. You couldn't believe the pettiness of that woman.

"What is that?" Momo asked, her eyes lifting from the paper for the first time in what felt like days.

Whatever was in that plate definitely looked better than the last thing you’d presented her. It held a certain finesse she wasn’t indifferent to.

"It's the pie you asked for," you said, eyes twinkling in pride. “Well, a deconstructed version of it.”

“It’s not what I asked for,” she trailed off, observing the fine details. Her eyes traced the delicate swirls of meringue and the vibrant yellow of the lemon gel. It wasn't what she had originally envisioned, but there was a beauty to it she couldn't deny. "But it's pretty."

You smiled, taking a seat on a corner of her desk as you pulled out a spoon as an offering. A clean one this time.

She was hesitant. Messing the dish up would feel like a crime, but so was leaving food unattended. So she finally dug in, picking up a bit of everything before humming at the taste of it all.

“Tastes the same as the failure, just… so much better.”

Your face lit up at the mention of that failed attempt a few days earlier. You’d kept your word and left it at her desk, hoping she’d have a taste despite the failure. It still had potential, and you wanted her to know.

“You had some?” Your eyes sparkled, and it made you look so much sweeter than you’d been lately. Momo felt herself falter for a second, slipping you a gentle smile before catching herself.

She cleared her throat, lowering the spoon down, the latter clattering on the porcelain as she went for another bite.

“I did.” She nodded. “You were right by the way. It wasn’t bad at all, just… unfortunate looking.”

You were only surprised she was admitting it; and this easily no less.

“So what do we do now? Do we listen to me more, or…?”

Momo sighed, and a victorious smile made its way to your lips before she even uttered the words. “Fine. You can freestyle a bit.” You cheered, and it took a lot for her not to mirror your happiness. “Don’t get too excited. You better follow the menu.”

“Or then what?”

She only glared at you, and the switch in her gaze was enough to turn you down. Or on. [What?]

“I’m kidding. Glad to be working with you.” You said, flashing her a grin that she could only see as cocky.

Momo's eyes rolled in annoyance, getting up from her seat and picking up the blazer on the back of it. As she gathered her stuff, you understood she was going home for the day. It was getting late, the restaurant had closed a couple hours ago and all the staff was gone too. You should get going too, but you feel a sudden pang of reluctance…

“You're going already?" You blurt out, unable to suppress the urge to keep her here just a little while longer.

Momo raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by your sudden change in demeanor. "You just shook my hand," she pointed out.

"Well, yes, but..." you trail off, grasping at your brain for any excuse to keep her here a moment longer. You couldn’t explain it. You didn’t understand either, but there was something about her presence that you find strangely comforting in the moment.

Maybe it was the lack of noise and chaos in the background, behind the office door she kept closed; only for you to burst it open anytime you had a complaint or an idea.

The silence, the dim lighting, their absence or her presence… Or the fact that she was actually pleased with your work for once. Explicitly at least. Most likely a gas leak you didn’t know about that messed with your thoughts—you couldn’t tell. But it was something.

There was something keeping you glued to that desk.

She was about to leave again, but this time you reached out and grabbed her hand, your fingers closing around hers in a firm grip. Both of you froze, the air suddenly charged with… again, something as you held her gaze.

"You said you'd be stepping in," you blurted out once more, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. You weren’t sure what possessed you to say it, but now that it was out there, you couldn’t take it back.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching as her mind raced to make sense of your words.

When she’d told you she’d step in, she didn’t think you’d take it seriously. That was her first mistake maybe, but to her, stepping in meant overseeing the preparations, making decisions about the menu, and handling the logistical details of the banquet. She never intended to actually cook alongside you, and quite frankly, she didn’t know how you could possibly think she would.

Were you stupid or purposefully getting on her nerves like you so often seemed to enjoy? Didn't you realize she had other responsibilities, obligations she had to take care of over cooking?

This was literally why she’d sought you out.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

"You haven't helped once in the kitchen since we started, and it's basically been a month," You retorted, your tone edged with frustration. "For someone who prides herself on integrity, you sure are amazing at keeping your word."

Your words were like a slap to the face, and Momo felt a surge of defensiveness rise within her. Your claims sure were bold for someone who did nothing but defy her words ever since the beginning.

But beneath the anger, there's a stain of guilt, a nagging feeling that maybe - just maybe - you might have a point. From a certain angle, you could say she did kind of manipulate you into working for her by throwing that phrase; or let’s call it as it was : an empty promise.

Momo sighed as she struggled to find the right words to get herself out of this. Your gaze was merciless on her, probing and insistent as you waited for an explanation. Or just admittance.

"I meant overseeing things, making decisions about the menu, handling the logistics, the usual," she finally explained, her frustration evident in her tone. "I still have a million other things to take care of for that banquet, you know. It's not like I can just drop everything and spend all day cooking with you."

She paused, searching your face for any sign of understanding or sympathy, but all she found was a stubborn determination. A refusal to back down from your position. And despite herself, she felt a small spark of admiration flickered to life within her.

"Look," she continued, her voice softening slightly. "I appreciate your dedication, I really do. But you have to understand that I can't just drop everything to cater to your whims. I have a responsibility to my family, to our guests, to ensure that everything goes smoothly. And if that means I have to delegate certain tasks to you, then so be it."

Her words were only met with silence. She waited for your response, bracing herself for another confrontation. But to her surprise, you nodded, a hint of understanding in your eyes.

The relief washing over her heart at the sight startled her. Why did she want to see it? Why did she want you to understand anyway?

"Alright," you said, your voice calm and measured. "I get it. I just... I guess I was hoping for more, you know? More than just orders and instructions. I wanted to be a part of something. Contribute in a meaningful way."

“You are a part of something, Y/n,” she reassured, and the hand she dropped on your shoulder caught you off guard. Her gaze had softened, but it only made you panic.

Here comes the guilt tripping, you mentally sighed, bracing for impact.

Before you could even muster an attempt to deflect the incoming emotional onslaught, she continued, her words flowing with as much determination as you were used to. "You know, this banquet isn’t just another project for me. It may not seem like it, but I care about it a lot. I take it as a farewell, a thank you to my family and the opportunities they’ve gifted me."

You opened your mouth to intervene, to offer some semblance of resistance, but she plowed on, crushing any attempts to cut in. "And not only are you a part of it, you’re leading it, Y/n. I trust you."

The words hit like a ton of bricks, and for a moment, you were rendered speechless. One of the rare times in your life. Here you were, caught in the midst of a heartfelt moment, unable to muster even a hint of humor to lighten the mood. With a silent sigh, you resigned yourself to the inevitable, silently acknowledging her words.

All you could do was drop your gaze, nodding. You almost felt shameful for trying to ignore her possibly having feelings.

“Thank you for trusting me.” You muttered, fiddling with your fingers before looking back at her. “I’ll make sure everything goes smoothly. Food wise at least.”

Momo nodded in acknowledgment, finally removing her hand from your shoulder. Her feet stuttered before turning away. She’d made it to the door pretty quickly, but a sudden thought halted her tracks.

The sudden stop in the sound of her expensive heels caught your attention, and you looked up at her. Your gaze and eyebrows silently inquired her, and she smiled sheepishly. Another display of vulnerability that made your heart jump. “Can I bring that home?”

Momo nodded towards the desk, referring to the unfinished dessert you’d brought her. She wanted to take it to her mother. Give her a preview of what was to come in a couple weeks.

The request made you smile. A little happy if you dared to say so. You reached for the plate to hand it to her, only to take it with you as you finally got up from that desk. “Wait, let me get you a takeout box.”

“We have takeout boxes?” She said, dumbfounded. You only stared at her, speechless but not surprised. You could only shake your head, before leading the way to the kitchen.

“I was just kidding by the way, I know we have them.”

She didn’t. Something you proved when you made her search for them. You let her walk around and act as though she had any idea where anything was in that kitchen before she gave up and surrendered to your amused, almost mocking gaze.

You added a few more of the day’s tests and leftovers into the box before packing it all up before sending her home with a smile.

She was nice to be around when you weren’t trying to step on each other’s toes.

—

The dining room of the Hirai residence was bathed in soft candlelight, casting a warm glow over an overly elegant table set for two. The head of the table felt empty with her father’s absence, a recurring one lately as he tended to matters deemed important for the company. Momo usually sat on his right, like she did tonight. Her mother, Mrs. Hirai, took her seat right across. Despite the picturesque scene, a palpable tension lingered in the air. Another recurrence Momo dreaded every day for months now.

Momo longed for the laughter that used to bring her family together around this table. The same one she announced her intent on renouncing to the heiress title. The same seat she’d left holding back tears at the words her father had thrown at her over a year ago.

Mr. Hirai never meant any of them, she knew that. He’d told her that, apologized soon after and long ago. But the thought, the scene, the sound… It’ll always tug at her heart, and dig the tears from deep within.

Momo swallowed hard at the sudden flashback, suppressing the pain. She managed to do that quite well; better as time passed.

The only problem was how she still couldn’t say a word at this table.

Conversation flowed in fits and starts as both women picked at their plate. Mrs. Hirai seemed determined to bridge the gap growing between them, her attempts at small talk falling flat against Momo's stony silence.

Then came a time where she was unable to bear the awkwardness any longer. The older woman cleared her throat and fixed her daughter with a searching gaze. "Momo, dear, I must say, this is all absolutely divine. You must have put a lot of thought into it."

Momo glanced up, her eyes meeting her mother's briefly before returning to her plate. "Actually, it’s Y/n who’s behind it all," she admitted, her tone guarded.

Mrs. Hirai's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Y/n? The new chef at your restaurant?"

Momo nodded, her mind already bracing for the inevitable conversation about her future. “A real talent for sure. Lots of potential. The whole experimenting thing is something we needed.”

Concern etched Mrs. Hirai's features before she composed herself, her expression becoming more serious. "Momo, don’t you want to reconsider at least once?”

Momo's shoulders tensed, steeling herself for the argument she knew was about to unfold. "Mom, we've been over this. I've made up my mind."

Mrs. Hirai regarded her daughter with a mixture of resignation and disbelief. "Think about what you’ll be leaving behind, it makes no sense! This company is your birthright, it’s your legacy, you have to uphold it."

Momo sighed, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I know, Mom, but I just don't want it. You’re asking me to be the head of it all as if I haven’t just been taking orders and following plans my whole life. I’m telling you I can’t bear all that, I don’t…"

Tears pricked at Momo’s eyes, “I don’t want to fail.”

Mrs. Hirai's expression softened, a hint of sadness in her eyes. "I understand, dear. But you have a responsibility to the family, to your father's legacy."

"I'm trying, Mom! Why do you think I go on all these dates for?" Momo's frustration boiled over, her voice rising slightly.

Mrs. Hirai recoiled slightly at the sudden outburst, her expression pained. "Well, it is taking a while," she murmured, her gaze piercing Momo's. "Maybe you should reconsider your approach."

Momo's jaw clenched, her frustration only mounting. "It's not my fault they're all brainless," she muttered, stabbing at the poor short ribs you’d braised to perfection. "Half of them are grossly aroused by your pockets. If you're fine with that, then tell me, and I'll gladly shorten the process."

Mrs. Hirai sighed, a mix between sorrow and anger. "Momo, we just want what's best for you. The company is important, yes, but so is your happiness."

As much as the company mattered to her parents, Momo’s happiness came above all. They’d worked so hard to provide for her, to ensure she never lacked anything. Especially love. Theirs had birthed this wonderful girl, whom they nurtured with, only wishing for her to find her own.

Seeing their daughter ready to sacrifice such a value broke their hearts more than her leaving the company.

"I know, Mom. I just wish..." Momo's shoulders sagged, her anger dissipating as she met her mother's gaze.

Mrs. Hirai saw the opportunity to mention what's been lingering on her mind. "I noticed your father has been setting you up with Jihyo. She's a capable woman, and the Park family is influential. It could be a good match for both of you, professionally and personally."

Momo scoffed, tearing through the last of her cutlet. "Jihyo’s basically the daughter of our closest enemy. She’s a wild card, Mom.”

Mrs. Hirai blinked, taken aback by Momo's bluntness. It was a true definition, but such frank acknowledgment of their family's associates was rarely spoken aloud. It felt like breaking a taboo.

“Momo—”

“Listen, she's a nice enough person, but she's not what I need nor want. I know Dad thinks that pushing me towards her will make me stay in the company and keep things stable. Nice try, but we’re not six, and it's not fair to either of us."

Mrs. Hirai's face softened, "Momo, he just wants to make you jealous,” she said, a light chuckle leaving her lips.

“What?”

“You’re giving your father too much credit, as always.” She shook her head, clearly amused. “Remember when you were six and didn’t want to go to bed? The way he went to grab the dog and act all cuddly with it, instead of you? He’s doing the same with Jihyo. Grabbing the closest thing to replace you, hoping you’ll come tear it up and claim your place again.”

Momo's eyes widened, processing her mother's words. She was over here claiming she was so old and mature now, but he was doing the same thing as when she was young. Getting a hold of the closest, emotionally threatening enough thing around to get her to listen to him.

"So... he's not serious about Jihyo?"

Mrs. Hirai sighed. "He's serious about wanting you to stay. He thinks seeing Jihyo in your place will make you reconsider."

Momo shook her head, feeling the tears well up in her eyes again. "I don't want to be manipulated like this. I want my decisions to be mine, not because Dad is playing games."

Her mother reached across the table, placing a comforting hand on her daughter's. "I understand, dear. But sometimes, those who love us most will do anything to keep us close."

Momo's lip trembled. "I don’t care. it's not fair, Mom. How can you be okay with this?"

Hearing her mother back her father’s insane behavior was heartbreaking. Disappointing. Momo's chest tightened, a nauseating mix of frustration and betrayal surging within her as she caught her mother’s eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I'm not saying I agree with his methods, Momo. But I know he's scared. Scared of losing you."

Momo looked down, her tears finally spilling over. "I just want to live my own life, make my own choices. Why can't he understand that?"

Her mother sighed, squeezing her hand gently. "Because he loves you, and he's afraid. Afraid that without the company, without us, you'll be lost. He doesn't realize how strong you've become."

Momo shook her head, frustration and sadness mingling in her heart. "I wish he could see that."

Mrs. Hirai nodded, her voice gentle. "Show him, Momo. The banquet is yours. Let him see what you can achieve on your own terms. Prove to him that you're capable of making your own choices and succeeding."

Momo took a deep breath, trying to steady her emotions. "You really think that will make a difference?"

Mrs. Hirai offered her a soft smile. "I do. Just be patient.”

Momo nodded, though the weight of her father's manipulations still pressed heavily on her heart. As she focused back on the food on her plate, her thoughts wandered back to you, and she couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope.

That glimmer of hope, it burned softly within her heart. Still too weak for her to feel anything other than relief at the thought of you.

—

“Can you at least pretend to be useful?” You snapped, slamming an oven door shut. “I need everyone on deck, and you’re just standing there complaining!”

The kitchen was bustling, the whole brigade rushing around to perfect their dishes as the deadline for the banquet loomed closer. Momo had scheduled a tasting tonight, placing you at the heart of the chaos. You tried to maintain control and ensure everything was perfect, but it was hard doing so when someone seemed determined to get in your way.

Momo's behavior had shifted over the past two weeks. She'd started paying more attention, trying to be more involved. It wasn't purely altruistic-she saw a silver lining in your presence. One that could solve all her problems. You challenged her in ways she hadn't experienced since her rookie days, igniting a new source of motivation. For once, she felt driven, compelled to prove herself.

So she decided to make you feel at ease—for her own gain, yes, but you won something in the deal, didn't you?

After that night in the office, she made it a point to be around more, offering assistance, and listening to you more.

It was promising.

But she had to ruin that too.

Today, she decided to supervise the brigade as you prepared for tonight's tasting. Her presence was only getting in the way of everyone, especially you. You tried to keep your focus, but Momo's constant hovering and her split attention were grating on your nerves.

As she stood in the kitchen, her phone buzzed constantly with texts from Jihyo. She tried to juggle the mounting pressure from her father, the complications with Jihyo, and her responsibilities; but it was obviously getting too much on one plate.

You glanced at Momo, noticing the tension in her posture, the way she bit her lip as she read her messages. The way she moved, the way her eyes sparked with intensity—it all captivated you for a second, distracting you in ways you didn't need at the moment.

Momo’s irritation mirrored yours. She snapped her head up from her phone, eyes blazing. "I would if you gave me anything remotely interesting to do. I won't just fetch things for you like some errand boy."

You scoffed, crossing your arms, trying to ignore the way her anger only seemed to add to her intensity. “Seriously? Picking and choosing at a time like this? If you were just going to screw me over you shouldn’t have bothered in the first place!”

Momo only chuckled, “Really? Because I could have sworn you’d begged for me to be here.”

“Right.” You nodded. “When I did that I didn’t think you’d take it as an invite to smear yourself all over anything I do again. We agreed you’d let me handle the kitchen, why are you so hellbent on keeping tabs, just let me do my job!”

“This whole thing was my idea.” Momo shot back, stepping closer. “You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me. That name you’re so proud of means nothing without my backing.”

“You’re not doing anything but sabotaging yourself.” Your voice dropped into a dangerous whisper. “I’m gonna need you to take your eyes off your own ass and look around you. Who do you recognize?”

Momo stayed silent, her mind racing. She glanced around, seeing the faces and eyes focused on her—some confused, some irritated. She realized she couldn’t put a single name to any of them. Her heart sank as the reality of her detachment hit her. The bustling kitchen, the brigade working tirelessly, and she couldn’t even acknowledge their efforts properly.

She felt a knot of frustration and embarrassment tightening in her chest.

You chuckled, “See what happens when you’re too busy playing corporate princess? Just let me f****** handle it.”

Her anger flared again, some kind of defense against the sting of that realization. “You think you’re so indispensable, don’t you?” she hissed. “That your presence is the only thing holding this together? Get over yourself, Y/n.”

“Sure I will. Please, lead the way like you so beautifully know how!” You gestured, hands as sarcastic as your tone.

The tension was palpable, your breaths mingling as you stood face to face, neither willing to back down. For a moment, it seemed like the argument might escalate further, but then Momo broke eye contact, her gaze shifting to the floor.

“Your arrogance will be your downfall,” she spat, voice trembling with suppressed rage. “You think you’ve done such a great job running this s***show, huh?”

When she looked back up, her eyes met yours filled with a mix of anger and something else she couldn’t quite place. She hated the way you managed to make her feel—vulnerable, exposed.

“You better prove it tonight or I’ll make sure you’ll regret ever stepping into this kitchen.”

Without another word, she turned and stormed out of the kitchen, leaving you standing amidst the chaos, that short and fragile truce between you two shattered yet again.

Tasting sure was going to be interesting…

—

That same night, the dining room was elegantly arranged, a stark contrast to the chaos of the kitchen earlier in the day. The table was set with fine china and crystal glasses, casting delicate reflections under the soft, ambient lighting. Momo sat between her parents, a tight smile on her face that didn't reach her eyes. Around the table were key senior staff members, trusted friends, and a few family members, all eager to sample the menu.

You, along with your brigade, moved seamlessly between the kitchen and the dining room. You made sure to put your hard earned skills to use, presenting each course with a practiced grace, detailing the inspiration and techniques behind every dish. Despite the tension in the air linking you to Momo, your professionalism never faltered, though your eyes rarely left the plates you were serving.

Each course was met with nods of approval, murmurs of appreciation, and the occasional question, which you answered with an admirable precision. Momo, however, remained silent, her gaze fixed on her plate. Her parents exchanged glances, concern etching their features.

When dessert was finally brought out, a hush fell over the table. You presented the dish—the deconstructed lemon meringue pie—explaining the delicate balance of flavors and textures. The room filled with the scent of citrus and caramelized sugar.

"Momo," Mrs. Hirai's voice cut through the murmurs, "you haven't said much tonight. What do you think?"

Momo looked up, her eyes meeting her mother's before shifting uncomfortably to the food in front of her. She felt the weight of everyone's gaze, including yours as you had paused in your explanation to listen.

"It's... it's very well done," she finally said, her voice painfully devoid of any enthusiasm. "The team has done an excellent job."

Her father frowned, leaning forward. "You can do better than that. Your opinion matters here. Speak up."

Momo's jaw tightened. She spent the entire evening avoiding your gaze, the argument from earlier still fresh and raw. Both of you were acting like children after a petty feud over a toy, going out of your way to avoid acknowledging each other.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice. "The dessert is innovative and beautifully executed. It’s exactly what I envisioned for the banquet."

Your eyes flickered with a mix of surprise and annoyance, recognizing the lie she’d just pushed through her teeth. She hadn’t envisioned anything—you’d fought tooth and nail over every detail up until hours ago.

"Thank you, Momo," Your voice strained in an attempt to stay polite. "I'm glad it meets your expectations."

The air grew thicker with obviously unspoken words. Momo’s parents exchanged another glance, sensing the underlying tension.

Mr. Hirai cleared his throat. "It’s important for us to be honest during these tastings. If there’s anything that needs to be improved, now is the time to speak up."

Momo felt her irritation grow. "I said it's fine, Father."

"Momo, we're just trying to help.” Her mother interjected gently, “If there’s anything you're not happy with, you need to communicate that."

That’s when you decided to step in, your tone sharp. "I think we all understand the importance of feedback. I have to say Momo's input has been invaluable—despite her current silence."

Momo's eyes flashed with anger. "Invaluable? Really? Seems to me like my input has been more of an inconvenience to you."

Your jaw clenched. "I never said that. But if you actually participated instead of hovering, it might be more constructive."

"Participated?” She shot back. “You mean following your every whim? I have better things to do than micromanage your kitchen."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. You caught Momo's parents looking between you and their daughter, realizing just how deep the rift had reached.

Mrs. Hirai spoke up first to try and defuse the situation. "Let’s not forget why we're here. The food is excellent, and we’re all looking forward to the banquet. Let’s focus on that."

Momo took a deep breath, faking a smile. "Yes, Mother. You're right. The food is great. Let's enjoy it."

But the damage was done. The altercation had cast a shadow over the evening and lingered in the air, unresolved and simmering just below the surface.

—

The kitchen was finally empty, the last of the staff having been dismissed for the night. You leaned against the counter, the cool steel pressing into your back as you took a moment to breathe. The day had been long and grueling, but at least the tasting was a success, earning yourself and your brigade a few days of rest before the banquet.

You should feel relieved, at least a little bit, you knew that. Yet you couldn’t break free from the weight of the air around you, mounted with tension from yours and Momo’s altercation.

It was suffocating. The hold she had on you, you could say you’d allowed it if only you could put a stop to it. If you at least wanted to make it stop…

The sound of the door to the kitchen creaking open halted your thoughts and Momo stepped inside. You could tell by the heels clicking softly on the tiled floor, and the way you instantly straightened yourself.

You watched her approach with guarded eyes, noticing her arms crossed over her chest. You mirrored her posture when she came close enough, crossing your own, guarding yourself up.

Momo noticed, eyes flickering to the tattoos peeking from beneath your rolled-up sleeves. She hadn’t seen those a lot, only finding out you had them when she started hanging around the kitchen more. Might have been a reason for her to do so, asking you to go and reach for utensils high-up just to peek.

She shook the thoughts away, finding your eyes and focusing on them. “Hey,” she began, her voice softer than you were used to. “Good job.”

The words almost made you choke. You swallowed hard, mouth drying up at the bitterness suddenly filling your heart. Momo waited for an answer, probably feeling entitled to one before she remembered you’d never given in to her.

“How are you feeling?” She tried again, leaning against the counter across from you. Her soft tone matched her eyes this time, so you allowed yourself to answer her.

“Fine, I guess.” You shrugged, eyes sweeping the floor. “It went well.”

She nodded, hesitating. “Yeah, it did. My parents were impressed.”

“That’s good to hear.” You replied, not looking at her.

Momo took a deep breath, steeling herself. "About earlier... I'm sorry. I’m the one who started yelling. Wasn't really professional of me."

You chuckled, finally meeting her eyes. "Did you just apologize? Didn't know you had it in you."

Her irritation flared once more. "I'm serious, Y/n. I get that this isn’t something you’re used to from me, but I can admit I was out of line."

"Okay, okay," you said, raising your hands. "Apology accepted."

You were so… nonchalant about it. As if you couldn’t care less. If you were honest, you could, but the reaction you were having didn’t exactly reflect that. It wasn’t the one she expected and she didn’t like it.

She almost started another argument before catching herself. Her jaw clenched, holding back some words to replace them with others she deemed more… gentle. Better suited to air out her frustrations. “Why are you still so defensive? The tasting went well anyway, didn’t it? Everything was perfect, my parents loved it, and everything has your name on it. You got what you wanted so why the attitude? Stop being so childish.”

That kind of shut you up. Momo couldn’t believe the silence that followed her words. She was right, you were adult enough to admit that. Just not enough to do it out loud. Not enough not to talk back.

You just had to do it for some reason. Maybe it was because her words struck a nerve, hitting closer to home than you were willing to admit.

"Fine," you muttered. "But you’re not exactly making it easy."

You honestly felt like a child, not being able to process or understand what's happening, so you took out your frustrations the only way you knew how to : throwing a tantrum.

Momo sighed, exasperated. "Are you going to keep this up during the banquet too? Does talking back to me and disregarding me turn you on or something?"

You scoffed, but it’s painfully evident in the moment, that you’re indeed attracted to her. But you’d never admit that either. You wouldn’t because, apart from her being attractive, you can’t tell why that is. “You wish.”

“You know what, maybe I do.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat, and Momo caught you struggling. She wanted—no, she needed—to let you know. That you couldn’t hide from her. Yet her lips refused to do anything else than let you know her own truth.

“Maybe then I could make a reason out of your behavior,” she whispered, words trembling in frustration.

Silence. Not an uncomfortable one, but odd. Eerie. Neither of you knew what the next words would be or where they’d come from, but you sure were getting ready for them.

Her eyes weren't looking into yours anymore. They were searching, reflecting, maybe even reaching out to her own fears. You saw it—the shift, the hesitation.

You didn’t expect her to speak up first.

“If you can’t do it for me then do it for yourself,” she started, “If this fails my family will take a hit, sure, but ultimately you and I both know we’ll be fine. Your career’s the only thing on the line here.”

Her voice was cold, icy, cutting through your ego with reminders of where you stood in this environment. In this industry. She jabbed her finger against your chest, making each one of her points clear and painful.

So you grabbed her hand, pushing it down with enough force to make a statement and let your stubbornness shine through yet again

"Don't," your voice low, enough of a threat to pull a reaction out of her too.

Momo's patience snapped. She grabbed a fistful of your white button-up, creasing up your pride and pulling you closer, her eyes not leaving yours.

You noticed for the first time, just how pretty she was and how dangerous that is. Your heart was desperate to make you feel it, practically racing against her own.

“You know what,” a smirk quivered on your lips at how tightly she held onto you. “Maybe this is all about more than just work.” You strained out, words slipping and pushing through the limits you’d drawn around her.

You reveled in the way she let you go. Her fist released your shirt, pushing you away only for her fingers to linger on the fabric and keep you from going too far.

You made a point to step back, biting the inside of your lip when she took a stepped forward.

Maybe it did turn you on a little.

"I warned you earlier, didn't I?” Her eyes burned into yours, as if trying to distract you from the weakness she’s been displaying. “You do whatever you want on Friday. One wrong move, and I might just keep my word this time."

"Maybe you should," you retorted, your eyes flashing with defiance, provoking the spark of anger in her own.

Her proximity was intoxicating. It would be betraying your own words, painting a coward out of yourself, but you still tried to step away. Your foot carefully slipped back, ready to carry you elsewhere and flee.

Halfway there, and you were back to square one. Suffocating under Momo’s impulse, drowning into the feeling of her lips continuously crashing against yours…

She pulled you back in even closer, her fist having claimed itself around the fresh crease of your shirt. You didn’t fight to remove it this time, finding it much easier and pleasant to surrender.

Your kisses were vicious against each other’s. Anything but gentle, fueled by anger and weeks of built up frustrations.

You lost yourselves into a simmering attraction neither of you wanted to acknowledge. Even when you found enough strength to pull apart. And even less when you realized just how much it took to do so.

The air seemed to thin out, charged with more tension than it held moments ago. More than ever before.

Your breaths were heavy, mingling with hers as you stared at each other’s features in shock and confusion.

Momo’s eyes were hazy, lips a neat mess and swollen from the kiss .“This doesn’t change anything.” she whispered, visibly shaken by her own actions.

You only nodded, busy trying yet unable to process the depth of what just happened. She slipped herself away from your arms and you watched her go, a mixture of frustration and longing churning in your chest.

The night felt colder, the kitchen emptier as you stood there, thoughts in a whirlwind. The kiss had changed everything and nothing, leaving both of you with more needs and questions than before.

—

“You kissed her?!”

“No, she kissed me!”

“That doesn’t matter!”

It really didn’t, Jeongyeon was right. So you let her slap you on the arm, the sting a light and playful discipline.

A couple of days passed, and you wasted two days of your hard earned break wallowing on your couch until Jeongyeon came by to drag you out of it for brunch. You complained the whole time, for entertainment purposes, but you were thankful for her.

With how busy you’d been since joining Momo, the two of you had only seen each other once. You made sure to keep her updated though, or rather she did by pestering you and teasing you about both your behaviors. She managed to keep herself up to date with every single little thing that had happened between you and Momo.

All except the latest.

“Like it’s my fault?” You argued, “Who wears a cropped dress shirt to a tasting…”

Jeongyeon chuckled at the state of you. All sprawled out on the table, chin resting on your forearm as you played with a few crumbs of your toast. She noticed the way your eyes wandered far away from this table, probably digging into your memories of Momo in that cropped dress shirt.

How pathetic, to her delight.

She shrugged at your words, reaching for her cup. “Less fabric, less stain prone. She’s got a point.”

You threw a piece of bread at her, but she dodged. “Why did she wear a tie then?” You straightened yourself up in your seat. “Seems to me like that would be just as much fabric as a regular dress shirt.”

Jeongyeon rolled her eyes, “Stop blaming the shirt, and get a grip. You kissed her because you like her.”

“Back. I didn’t kiss her, I kissed her back.”

“That’s still a lot of kissing. So you’re not denying it, huh?” She raised an eyebrow, and snickered when you sighed. “You like her.”

You ran a hand through your hair, exasperated. "I don't even know what I feel, Jeongyeon. It's... complicated."

Jeongyeon smirked, leaning back in her chair. "Feelings usually are. But denying it won't make it any less true."

You groaned. "She's infuriating. One minute she's criticizing everything I do, the next she's—."

"Kissing you," Jeongyeon finished, taking a sip of her coffee.

You wanted to knock that smirk of hers (lovingly) off her lips, but resigned, feeling yourself smile at the joke. Too bad she was being truthful too.

"Yeah.” You fiddled with a napkin in your reach, your smile fading as you thought back to the moment. “And it wasn't just a peck, you know? It was... intense."

Jeongyeon chuckled. "Sounds like there's some serious chemistry there. Maybe all that fighting was just foreplay."

You glared at her, but couldn't help the small smile tugging at your lips again. "You're not helping."

She leaned forward, her expression softening. "Look, Y/n, you've always been passionate about your work. Maybe she sees that and respects it, even if she has a hard time showing it. She's probably just as confused about her feelings as you are."

You sighed again, feeling the weight of her words. "Maybe. But what do I do now? She’s git the worst timing ever, we’ve got the banquet coming up; I can't afford any distractions."

Jeongyeon smiled knowingly. "Just be honest with yourself. And let go of your pride a little, who knows, maybe then she’ll be nice to you. If what you both truly want is for that banquet to work out, you’ll know to set this aside for now. Behave, and the rest will follow. Probably."

You gave Jeongyeon a pointed look, clearly unimpressed by her attempt to absolve herself of responsibility. "Probably?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Jeongyeon shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Hey, I'm just here to nudge you in the right direction. The rest is up to you. Relationships are messy, but you'll never know if you don't try."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair again. "I guess you're right. It's just... a very uncharted territory right now."

Jeongyeon nodded, her expression turning sincere. "I know. But she might just be worth getting into it, I mean… I wouldn’t mind letting my guard down around her.”

You rolled your eyes, "Of course you wouldn't."

"You should do the same," she said teasingly. "Seriously, Y/n."

You looked down, a small smile playing at your lips. "Maybe. We'll see."

Jeongyeon grinned, giving you a playful nudge. "That's the spirit. Now, finish that toast and get back out there. You've got a banquet to hold. And a girl to figure out."

You chuckled, “Yeah, I do. Thanks, Jeongyeon."

"Sure, Just invite me to the wedding."

—

Momo stood in front of the grand mirror in her room, adjusting the final touches of her outfit. The sleek black suit, paired with a statement pearl choker, gave her an air of authority and elegance she loved to see on herself. The sharp lines of the suit contrasted with the delicate jewelry, creating a powerful and refined look.

She glanced at her reflection, taking a deep breath to steady herself. Her mind raced with thoughts of the evening ahead, the guests, the speeches, the food, and most of all, you.

Since that kiss, everything had become a whirlwind of confusion. You were infuriating, challenging, and utterly impossible to read. The kiss had only complicated things further, as if that relationship needed another tangled strain. What was she thinking… It was hard to focus on anything else when she replayed the moment in her mind, over and over again. Your lips on hers, the intensity, the fire-it had been unexpected, unplanned, and yet, it felt strangely good.

And then there was Jihyo. The situation with her was just as headache inducing. Jihyo's texts, her father's manipulations, and the pressure to stay in the company-everything just kept weighing on her. Yet somehow, in the midst of it all, she didn't mind any of it. As if the kiss had awakened something in her, something allowing her to bear all that weight. She hadn't felt that in a long time. It made her question everything, including her feelings for you and what she truly wanted for her future.

As she walked into the venue, her eyes scanned the room, filled with guests fighting for best dressed mingling along with some others… settled for comfort. The atmosphere was buzzing, poking at Momo's racing heart. She felt nervous, not just from the pressure of the evening, but from the thought of seeing you again. She hadn't seen you since that night in the kitchen, and she wasn't sure what to expect.

It took a while, but her eyes finally found you across the room, looking dapper in your chef's uniform. For the first time, as a sign of gratitude and hopefully good news for your future, you were made to wear the official uniform of the Hirai kitchens. The jet black jacket, adorned with the restaurant's insignia, felt weird and new, but the colors … You could get used to them, and the material was soft enough.

You were talking to one of the guests, a polite smile on your face, but she could see the tension in your posture. You must have felt her gaze because you looked up, eyes locking with hers for a brief, electrifying moment. She saw a flash of something in your eyes—nerves, anticipation, and maybe something more.

You took Jeongyeon's advice to heart, determined to behave, to keep things professional despite the need to lash out at your own confusing feelings, and by extension; her. You approached her cautiously, using the distance separating her from you to try and calm that pounding in your chest.

"Momo," you greeted, your voice came out steady enough, but your eyes betrayed your nerves.

"Y/n," she replied, her own voice calm.

You stood there for a moment, the silence hanging heavy with the memory of your kiss, a palpable tension neither of them could ignore.

"You look nice. Very professional," You finally said, breaking the silence. Your words were sincere, and for a moment, Momo's heart slowed.

"Thank you," she replied, a small smile playing on her lips. "You look... different."

You chuckled, the sound easing some of the tension. "Yeah, I do. It feels weird but... good."

You stood still. Still there, awkward and unsure, the weight of the evening pressing down on you. Anyone passing by could tell there was something between you, couldn't quite put their finger on it. Not any more than you could. But you tried; to find a way to move forward without letting your emotions get in the way of the night's success.

"I think we should... talk maybe," You said, your voice dropping to a low, almost hesitant tone.

Thankfully Momo nodded, wanting nothing more. Until she remembered where she was. "Yeah, we do. But maybe not here. Later?"

"Later," you agreed, relief evident in your eyes. "For now, let's focus on tonight."

"Agreed," she said, her resolve strengthening. "Let's give them a night to remember."

—

The banquet was in full swing, and Momo couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as she watched the guests enjoy the evening. After her brief but intense interaction with you, she’d thrown herself full swing into hosting, greeting the most important guests warmly and ensuring everything was running smoothly. She could see you, now dressed in the official Hirai colors, making your rounds with the staff in the kitchen through the glass doors.

She liked the sight. Enjoyed it even.

As the main courses began to be served, Momo took a moment to catch her breath, her eyes scanning the room. Everything seemed perfect, but she knew better than to let her guard down, and just as she was about to step back into the fray, one of the staff members approached her, looking visibly distressed.

"Ms. Hirai, we have a problem in the kitchen," the staff member whispered urgently, causing a surge of anxiety within her.

“What kind of problem?”

"The main course... there's an issue with the meat—well, it’s more the ovens not working properly—but we don't have enough time to fix it without some quick thinking."

Momo's heart picked up the pace again. This could ruin the entire evening.

Without a second thought, she hurried towards the kitchen, her mind racing with solutions. As she entered, she found you there, looking equally concerned.

“Y/n,” she called out, catching your attention. “We have a problem.”

The tension between you both flared up instantly, old arguments resurfacing in the heat of the moment. You tried to stay focused, but her presence was both a distraction and a relief. You were stressed, and seeing her only added to the pressure.

Momo crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing slightly. "What's going on? Why wasn't I informed earlier?"

Your jaw tightened, trying to keep your frustration in check. "It's under control. We have a backup plan. I'm using the emergency meat, but we need to cook it quickly and differently."

"Good," she said, biting back her irritation. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

You paused, debating on teasing her about stepping in, but it wasn't the time nor place. "Can you go around and make sure everyone is on time? Report back to me if there's any issue."

She nodded, her gaze softening slightly. "Got it."

As she moved through the kitchen, checking on the staff and ensuring everyone was on schedule, she couldn't help but notice the tension in your posture. Despite the pressure, you remained in control, your hands moving with precision as you prepped the backup meat. She saw the way your brows furrowed, the way you bit your lip in concentration. It struck her how much you actually cared, how deeply invested you were in all this.

When she returned to you, she gave a quick update. "Everyone's on track. No issues so far."

"Good," you replied, a brief moment of relief flashing in your eyes before the stress settled back in. "Thank you."

Momo only nodded. She wanted to say more, to ease your tension, but the words wouldn't come. So she just took a step back, intending to head back out when her eyes caught sight of a pile of uncut vegetables next to you.

"Is anyone on these?" she asked, motioning to the vegetables.

You cussed under your breath at the sight of them, wiping the sweat from your forehead. The meat chaos had messed with your train of thoughts... "Damn it, no. I completely forgot."

Momo stepped closer, pushing her sleeves up. "Relax. I'll handle it."

"What—Are you sure?"

You would question the move, but the help she was offering was too precious.

Momo nodded, already reaching for a knife. "Yeah. How do you want them cut?"

The way she proceeded to handle that knife shouldn’t have been a surprise. She did belong to a respectable culinary lineage, but seeing her in action was something else entirely.

You felt a strange sense of relief wash over you as you witnessed her skills from the corner of your eye. The fact that she was actually helping you made the situation feel a little less overwhelming.

The two of you worked side by side, and you could feel the tension easing up its hold onto the two of you as the minutes passed.

—

Much later in the night than you’d have liked, you stood outside the restaurant, the air of the night cool against your skin as you savored the last drags of your cigarette.

The streets were calm, the occasional hum of traffic in the distance adding a weirdly soothing track to the end of it all.

The banquet, everything had finally come to an end, and successfully, but the lingering thoughts of Momo and your unresolved tension clouded your mind.

You mindlessly watched as the guests left one by one, their laughter and chatter fading as they climbed into expensive cars and drove away. The soft glow of taillights disappeared around corners, leaving the street empty and silent every time.

You exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl into the dark sky above.

Sure, that little moment in the kitchen earlier was nice, but… There was still a lot to work through.

A familiar sound of stilettos against the rough concrete pulled your eyes off and away from some sweet looking Mercedes. It didn’t compete with the sight you knew was awaiting

Momo stepped outside and startled you with a soft, “You smoke too much.”

You looked over, a faint smile on your lips. “Well, I’m trying to quit, but I deserve this one.”

She chuckled, taking a seat beside you. You watched her, feeling bad for the expensive suit you’d eyed any chance you got. All night. “You’ll mess your pretty clothes up,” you said, stubbing out the cigarette.

“Who cares,” she brushed off. “Night’s over anyway.”

You nodded. Couldn’t argue with that. “Congratulations, by the way. Was your mom proud?”

Momo smiled at the recent memory of her parents congratulating and thanking her for her hard work. “Yeah, they both were.”

You eyed her fingers as they fiddled with each other. It made you smile, how no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to hide that shy part of her.

“Was the outfit supposed to be a statement?” you asked, and she shuffled, telling you it might have been. It amused you. “You shouldn’t have. Did it shake you up that much?” You smirked as though you hadn’t gone to cry about it to Jeongyeon.

“About that night…” she trailed off, silently hoping you’d take the reins.

“It’s okay. I won’t tell your suitors.” You shrugged, half-jokingly.

A small, playful but sincere gesture that slapped Momo in the face. She had completely forgotten about her little side quest with the pressure of the past few days. And also because you’ve been the only thing on her heart’s mind since your kiss. Before stepping out to join you, she even cut things off with Jihyo through a text, thinking it was finally the end of it all.

“Oh.” She managed to say after slowing her thoughts down. “Thanks.”

“No problem…”

A few long and awkward seconds passed.

“Wait, are you gonna carry on with those?”

Momo pursed her lips, thinking. “I don’t know.”

She really had no idea. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to quit the company anymore. Until her dad told her he’d slowly been warming up to her decision as he left moments ago, she forgot this was her last project.

It was great news, yeah, if it weren’t for one little detail you helped her realise a little too late.

She didn’t want it to be.

Momo cleared her throat, her lips opening and closing a few times before managing to get the words out. “Are you going to stick around?” she tentatively asked.

You shrugged, playing it cool although you had a feeling her question meant good news. Hopefully in both professional and personal parts of your life. “If you want me to.”

Momo grinned, “I wouldn’t mind.”

You nodded, suppressing a smile. “Will you?” you asked, and she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Will you stick around too? Or are you quitting and leaving the country to become a dance teacher on the other side of the world?”

“How do you know I dance?” She laughed.

“You’re a public figure, Momo. Investments make headlines, especially the heartfelt ones,” you reminded, referring to the time she donated a generous amount to her old dance school in need.

“You’ve been keeping tabs on me?”

“Not really. Just news stuff.”

“Right.” You felt her eyes on you, rightfully suspicious. Another silence settled, although this one was a little less awkward and shorter. “Have you always wanted to be a chef?”

You simply nodded at the question, not wanting to dull the moment with details. “Thank you for the opportunity by the way. I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you, how rude of me.”

“You’re welcome,” she chuckled. “You deserved it. A lot of guests asked me to send their compliments to the chef.”

Her nudge to your ribs made you pull away instinctively, the sudden contact sending a rush of warmth to your chest. You looked down, hiding your smile as your mind rewound back to your first meeting. “You never called me chef, by the way.”

“And I never will,” she said assuredly, making you chuckle. It was all you could do for now with your focus on her hand fiddling with your own, watching as she intertwined her fingers with yours, the other caressing the exposed and sketched skin of your forearm.

She sure had gotten comfortable. The way she leaned into you, her touch becoming more familiar and assured... You wondered where it came from for a second before remembering how bad of a job you were doing at hiding the effect she had on you so far.

Well, if that’s what it got you…

“Bet on that?” You teased. A little provocation, for grounding purposes.

Momo just nodded though, still assured, and it made you even more curious about what she had in mind for her to be. “Why not?” you probed.

She only smiled, observing your features long enough to make you blush in the night. She inched her face closer to yours, her hand squeezing around yours. It felt only natural for you to lean in, and the nose scrunch she did was new, but the grin that came with it had you guessing it was a good thing. She couldn’t help but giggle as you leaned in, and you almost forgot what had pushed you so close until she spoke up.

“I’ll call you much better, and more flattering things than ‘chef’… darling,” she whispered.

You folded immediately, and this time, you were the one that kissed her. This one was much sweeter, softer. Flavors from the night dancing on your lips, teasing the ones on your tongues. Dessert and smoke, a blend of sweetness and bitterness that felt just right.

When you finally pulled apart, breathless, you felt her lips turn into a smirk against yours.. “Doesn't mean we’re done arguing, though.”

“It doesn't?”

She shook her head, her free hand reaching for a displaced lock of your hair. “Not until you quit smoking.”

“I told you I’m already trying to.”

“I know, but I also happen to think you look hot doing it.”

“Can’t wait to fight about me being hot then.”

———

@cry4mina thank you for supportively bullying me to finish this i hope you liked it

[thewandererh]

‼️⚠️TW // medical imagry (IV, slight depiction of veins), noose imagry, a poorly drawn realistic heart organ, intense eye contact, and a set of fellows who are in anguish

@calamarispider💥💥

recently rewatched a playthrough of little nightmares 1 and 2, and drew calamari’s folks with said videos as background noise :]! was trying out different styles of brushes and things on ibispaintX, and had quite a bit of fun doing so. i’ve been easing into doing stress relief art and this was a good example of that?

hope you enjoy yet another bout of fanart calamari haha 🐥 (<- looks up at you like this)

💙 - [gouche brushes, some watercolor] was playing around with the various palettes he was given in arts of him by calamarispider, and sort or blended them all together. I love how blurry mind looks, almost as if you’re passing out while viewing the image. fits with the medical vibe! he looks like he’s skulking away in shame or fear or something. i think i made him look weak because i’m a mind enthusiast. damn. the dark background makes it feel gloomy and mellow, but also scary?

❤️ - {marker primarily, little watercolor} i know he’s like 🧍 but his presence alone can be intimidating, that stare could drive away anyone and he *knows* it. played around a lot with layers and lasso stuff here, and leaned more into a sketchy style almost as if he’s barely there. i love the background in particular because it’s grey and not red, giving him a loss of and a heightening of individuality. doing the hair was fun XD. i specifically remember the fella i was watching play little nightmares 2 at this point getting frustrated with the teacher. silly memory

💜 - (watercolor, pencil pens) this one bounces around styles a lot, and it almost makes him seem more real? i was frustrated with it at first, but i love how some parts of him are more complex and sharp than others. mixed two art references of heart calamarispider had drawn, giving him a sketchy little eye and a more unseen bleeding eye under the blindfold. it looks cool i think :]. this was a big experimentation piece that i look back fondly on :D! I love them all but this especially. I love heart’s almost ‘angel of death’ wing cloak things haha

off i go 🏃💨

OH MAN i forgor minds crown. its ok he left it in the oven(??????)

[digital-domain]

Change

Mahito x Reader // word count 2k

In which Mahito offers to make your insecurities disappear. Quite literally.

Tags/warnings: dark content, yandere, implied noncon, body horror, kidnapped reader, biting, blood, non-consensual kissing, discussion of death, gender neutral reader, reader has body image issues and is implied to have dealt with them in unhealthy ways 

A/N: Not as painstakingly edited as usual because I'm trying to get out of the write-something-and-then-pick-at-it-until-I-hate-it time loop

You are sitting with your knees pulled up to your chest, facing the wall of the sewer. It is not the first time you have sat like this, nor the first time you have spent so long in this position. In the early days, Mahito would tell you to turn around and watch him experiment, and you’d feel your stomach writhe in time with the contorted things on the floor. But he lets you look away now. You’re not sure why, but you don’t bother wondering. It’s easier not to look, to pretend that you are alone, to tell yourself that the almost-human sounds echoing in the tunnel are merely figments of your imagination. That his laughter is only a memory from your nightmares, and not a constant reminder of what your life has become.

There isn’t much laughing this time. It’s mostly noises of surprise and keen interest, the kind a normal person might make upon viewing something mundane under a microscope, and seeing its hidden world beneath. You do not know what worlds Mahito is discovering, and you hope he doesn’t force you to find out. 

The worst part, of course, comes after his mouth finally closes. When you hear nothing but his footsteps upon the ground. Coming closer. You don’t run from it, or lash out, like you used to. Your stomach churns, and your pulse quickens, but you still let him spread his legs on either side of you, press his chest to your back, and wrap his arms around your waist. His hands cross beneath your ribcage, and you try not to think about what they were touching before. What you might see if you turn around. What he might be feeling, now that he has you so close.

“You would’ve liked it this time,” he says, as if he actually believes it. “It was interesting. And less…hm. Less dramatic than usual, I guess. For a while.” A high-pitched little spurt of laughter ruptures in your ear. “I got really carried away at the end. But I did try.”

“Why does that matter?” Even hearing him talk about it makes you nauseous, but not so much that you can’t speak. Not anymore. “It ends the same no matter how it starts.”

“Maybe! But you’ve got a saying about that. It’s…ah. What is it…?” He presses his face into the side of your neck and inhales deeply. Kisses your skin with cold lips before breaking away with a sudden start. “Oh! I remember. ‘The journey’s more important than the destination.’ It’s a very nice saying. I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

You don’t like the way his mind drifts when he touches you. He makes you go rigid, takes away your ability to blink and breathe, but you seem to do the opposite to him. He kisses you again, in the same place, and then bares his grin, scrapes at you with his teeth and tongue, pulls and sucks and bites at your skin -

It is a long time before he says anything again. Long enough for you to be grateful that you have no way to see your reflection, to assess the damage he’s left behind, the growing collection of reminders on your body.

“I could take you on a journey, too.” He tightens his arms around you, presses in until you can barely tell where he ends and you begin. “I could change you, like I changed them…well.” He giggles. “Not quite like that. You’d still be alive at the end.” 

You go stiff. Breath catches in your throat. “No.” Your voice creaks out, so quiet that he might not even notice how terrified you are. “No.” Louder. There’s more, there, if only you could find the strength to say it. Don’t touch me, let go of me, stay far, far away, let me go -

“Don’t worry. I’d let you decide what you wanted me to do. Although I’m pretty sure I already know.” You squirm desperately against his hold, and he sighs, and presses his lips to your ear. “I’m not trying to scare you, you know. I don’t want to change anything about you. You’re so so cute already. But…”

There is a trickle of blood dripping down your neck. Slow, already drying. How long has it been there? How long have you tuned it out? 

“I know there are parts of your body that you don’t like.” His voice is uncharacteristically gentle, and you search it for any hint of amusement. “You really don’t like them. I was watching you for a while before I brought you here, so I saw the things you did to hide them. To change them. It’s not so different from what I do.” He lifts his hand from your waist, wiggles his fingers in the air. “I’m just way, way better at it.”

“No.” You don’t even know what you look like anymore. Even if you did -

Maybe you’d still hate it. But it doesn’t matter here.

“I know I could do it.” He lets go of you for a moment, repositions his hands, and spins you around, the force of the sudden movement knocking your own hands from the places where they dug into your shins. You splay them flat against the floor, and keep your eyes down. “Here.” He crouches in front of you, and points. “And here. And here. I could make all of it look just how you want it to.” 

You close your eyes, scared to get a glimpse of what lies behind him. (That’s not the only reason, is it?) It’s better not to look at him, either. (And…)

“It’s really a very tiny difference between what you have and what you want, so it won’t be easy to do perfectly,” he admits. “But it also means that you probably wouldn’t die. And if I mess up, I can always just try again!”

He’s so close to you. Breathing on your face, even though you’re pretty sure he doesn’t have to breathe at all. If you open your eyes, you won’t be able to see what’s behind him - his stare will take up your entire field of view.

“I don’t want to mess up, though. You wouldn’t be very happy if I did that. And I want you to be happy.” He touches the side of your jaw, and then tugs carefully at the corner of your mouth, like he thinks it might rip open if he pulls too hard. “You smiled a lot before I brought you here. It was cute.”

Your eyes are still closed. His hand is just as cold as his lips. You could even feel it through your clothes, moments before. Here, and here, and here…you wish he didn’t understand the way you think about yourself. He’d be so much easier to tune out if he was wrong.

“I want you to smile because of me.” His hand crawls up the side of your face, and pulls at your eyelids, his touch a bit less gentle than it was a moment before. “If that means making you look a tiny bit different, I don’t mind. As long as I don’t have to change your mouth”-

You look at him, because you truly believe your eyelids might rip off if you don’t.

“Oh. Or those eyes. Not those, either.” He’s leaning so far forward that his nose brushes yours. So that you can see him, and only him - and you. Just a bit of you, in his eyes, the tiniest glimpse of your own reflection that you wish you could erase. “I’ve been practicing a lot,” he says, “but I never change those.”

Practicing. 

“What do you mean?” You’re not sure if you actually say it, or if it’s only in your head. Either way, he doesn’t answer you with words. Instead it’s with a kiss, which is worse, because his tongue is in your mouth now, and his hands are on all the places that he just pointed out on your body, and they don’t change. You’re exactly who you are, far too grounded inside yourself as this thing makes you wish you had no body to touch at all.

And yet, you don’t want it to end. Because when it ends -

He sits down at your side.

And with that, there is nothing between you and the rest of the mess he’s created.

And you cannot tear your eyes away.

“I told you it was interesting.” He folds his hand over yours. “You really should have watched. I almost got it right this time.”

There is the usual mess. Fleshy and fluid things, undulating slightly, with holes that open up as if to scream but make no sound. The vague suggestions of limbs, on some, nothing but huddled slimy masses remaining of others. Eye sockets, empty, migrated into strange places. Colors and textures stolen from the insides and outsides of human bodies, so that you can’t for a moment forget what you’re looking at. That’s usually all that there is. And it’s enough to send your guts crawling up the walls of your throat, all on its own. 

But the one there -

It is not moving at all. And it has eyes. Glazed. And it has limbs, twisted off at the ends, but clearly four, clearly only half-heartedly destroyed. And it has lips. And teeth. And they are stretched out in a grimace, pasted-on even after its heart stopped pumping blood to the muscles of its face, even after its chest caved in and its lungs burst out from under the wreckage and the rest of its head fell away -

“I’m getting very good at making copies.” He leans his head against your shoulder. “Your body is easy…it’s just your face that’s hard. But that one had a face kind of like yours to begin with, so I did okay.” His grip on your hand tightens. “Not perfect, though. So I had to get rid of it.”

The mouth does not look familiar. Not anymore. But the eyes, lifeless as they are -

“I’ll show you once I get it right,” he sighs. “Once I make one look exactly like you. And then you can tell me how you want me to fix it, and once we’ve got it all figured out”-

You retch. But everything stays inside. You wrap your free arm around your waist for a moment, and then snatch it away, repulsed for reasons you don’t entirely understand.

“Don’t worry, cutie. It won’t take too many more.” Mahito lifts his hand from yours and turns towards you. “I wouldn’t mind if it did, though.” You look at him, if only to avoid looking at the other things in the room, and watch as he smiles back at you. His head is tilted, eyes shining, mouth closed. He stares at you for far too long, and slowly, slowly, his lips curl back, revealing the bleach-white grin underneath. “For you…I wouldn’t mind doing anything.”

You don’t see him move, not through the spots of black in your eyes and the haze of blood that’s rushed to your head. But you feel yourself falling, feel your back hit the ground, and feel him flattening himself on top of you. You feel every inch of your body where it presses back against his. And you feel radiating, all-consuming disgust at every place where you connect.

“If you want to stay like this,” he murmurs, “forever, that’s okay too. I’ll change you, or I’ll keep you the same…you’ll be my favorite human no matter what.”

You do not want to stay like this, trapped in your skin as he worms his way over and beneath it. But that isn’t the question, and the answer - that it doesn’t matter what body you panic inside of, or what, exactly, he touches, that nothing will make it better -

Even if you tried to say it, he’d swallow it up before a single word made it off your tongue.

[mychlapci]

HEWWO the anon asking for sunstreaker made me think of a fic I read where the sg autobots kind of pass the eggs around to share the carrying load

Thinking about prowl telling the twins that they need to take some responsibility for filling him with so many eggs. How is he supposed to work AND carry two bots worth of eggs.

(Honestly I can't decide if it's hotter if the twins just let him do it, or if he has to wrestle them into it, denta on suntreakers head fin as he pins the squirming lambo from behind. Maybe that gets the twins off yknow. A show of strength)

Prowl grinds his wet, swollen valve against sunstreakers plating until it snaps open, revealing his valve that is just starting to leak.

And then prowl pushes. He vaguely registers that the push comes with a gasp as the first egg is pushed back through his valve, the stretch stimulating his already active array.

Sunstreaker lets out an uncharacteristic cry as he suddenly feels something hard pushing into his valve. His calipers are forced apart as his frame swallows the egg. His frame shakes, digits scrabbling against the surface of the berth, back plating pressed against prowls bumper as superior officer leans over him. His legs shake and go limp as the second egg enters him, the burning stretch accompanied with waves of pleasure as he lets slip a shaky moan. He feels prowls arm snake around his middle, pushing the yellow twin's hips back against prowls.

Sideswipe whines and paws at prowls trembling doorwings. His modesty plating has snapped back ages ago, lubrication all but gushing forth as he watched. Don't leave him out please please please he wants to full of eggs too

oh god, that fanfic sounds so familiar... my first ever transformers fanfic that i’ve read and that introduced me to transformers as a fandom was a jazzprowl fic where Prowl lays his eggs into Jazz even as he tells him to stop... I do think you mean a different fic, but it’s a nice memory to be reminded of. me and my friend read it out loud.

mhmmm Sunny and Sides laid so many eggs into him, there���s no way he can do his work while waddling around like that! Of course, he has to pin them down to make them share the responsibility, especially Sunstreaker, who doesn’t want to get his pretty waist ruined by a fat pregnancy belly... doesn’t stop him from loving it, though. He’ll sob and squeal as Prowl holds him down, pussies pressed together, eggs sliding into his port one by one and settling heavy in his forge, but he’s cumming like crazy the entire time.

Sideswipe is dripping wet and nipping at Prowl’s neck, telling him that Sunny’s had enough, please lay some eggs in him too. Prowl obliges. Sunstreaker lies limp and shaking with the aftershocks while Sideswipe moans and gushes around each egg passing into his valve.

At the end, all three of them are pregnant.