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#i’ve been looking at this for far too long
luveline · 15 hours
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hello might i ask for sassy badass reckless reader who is the #1 leading cause of aaron's gray hairs pls 🤞🏻 he is SO exasperated with her like he is TIRED™ but also tweaking bcs he's horrendously down bad for her he's gna throw up
Good morning. I hope you slept well, honey. Can you come to work early, say 6.10AM? I’d like to see you and talk about something in person. 
You squint at the text that’s just come through. Another follows as you’re finishing, lighting the dark of your room.
I love you. Sorry, I know you don’t like when I forget to tell you in the mornings. 
Your own response is sent without propriety. I love you too handsome. 6.10 is not gonna work.
Can you make an effort for me? he asks. 
You do your very best. 
“It’s almost seven,” Hotch says when you finally get there that morning, his frown audible and plain to see. 
You hold up the bag of sugar donuts you’d purchased from the truck on the square just outside of Quantico’s endless parking lots. “Necessary delay.” 
“Unnecessary. I asked you nicely to come early and you’re barely on time,” he grumbles. 
How adorable. You put the bag of donuts on the desk and ignore the paperwork laid out waiting for you in favour of his side of the desk. He smells like cedar, his suit sleeve starched under your hand. You lean back against the lip of his desk and pretend you hadn’t been thinking about climbing into his lap —he’s formidable and lovely and that’s the best combination for lounging about atop someone, especially when that someone is very good at pressing you backwards, and better at kissing your neck. 
He knows what you’re thinking. “You’ve woken up in a mood,” he murmurs. 
“A good one,” you promise. 
You take his coffee and steal a sip. Hotch, resigned, lays a hand on your thigh. “I have important things to talk about, you know? I thought I made that clear this morning.” 
“You made a couple of things clear.” 
“Don’t say it like that.” 
“Like what?” 
“Like I…” He tilts his head to the side. “Like I’ve been sending you dirty texts or photos.” 
“Is that an option? I don’t think I’ve subscribed to those emails.” 
“You make me out to be this salacious lark–”
“Aaron, I don’t do anything of the sort.” You can hardly hold back a laugh. “I’m sorry I implied you were sexting me, okay? I wish you had been.” He sighs a long-suffering sigh as you carry on. “But you were very formal. I’ll be sure to tell HR the same thing.” 
His hand slips between your thighs. Nowhere it shouldn’t be, just trapped between soft flesh. “Don’t tell HR anything.” 
His coffee is lukewarm and unsweetened on your tongue. Would it kill your uptight love to add just a dash of cream and sugar? Wrinkling your nose, you set aside the mug and press your mildly heated hand to his cheek. Just quickly, brushing a thumb up to the skin below his eye before you let it fall. “Tell me what you wanted me to come in early for. And, for the record, I’m sorry for not trying to get here before, just I didn’t sleep well, and my neck hurt too much to rush.” 
He looks like he wants to ignore your apology. He doesn’t ask you for much, and showing up when he’d wanted you to would’ve been the kinder thing to do —he can be annoyed as both boss or boyfriend. 
But he doesn’t have it in him. 
“Why didn’t you sleep?” he asks softly. 
“Thinking too much about my nice boyfriend.” 
“Really?” 
You slouch a little. Cover his hand where it rests between your legs. “I don’t know. It was really hot, and my mattress is getting old, probably.” 
He ushers you down for a sympathetic kiss. He’s always so sorry to hear about your minor ailments, he must like you too much. 
You attempt to crawl into his lap, curling an arm behind his head. He, disgruntled and yet far from reluctant, lets you take a seat. 
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caplanbuckybarnes · 2 days
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Everything You Deserve (logan)
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Summary: Logan deserves all of your love
WC: 815
Warnings: fluff, logans uncertain.
Read on Ao3!
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The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden hue across the horizon as you stood on the porch of the cabin Logan had brought you to. It was secluded, surrounded by nothing but towering trees and the sounds of nature. A haven, far from the chaos that normally followed him.
You smiled softly, wrapping your arms around yourself as the cool evening air started to settle in. Logan had been inside for a while, claiming he had something to do. You had no idea what he was up to, but knowing him, it could’ve been anything from fixing something in the house to just…needing a moment alone.
You didn’t mind. It was rare for him to be so at peace. Normally, he was on edge, fighting some battle—whether it was with others or himself. But here, there was none of that. Just quiet moments with the man you loved.
The sound of the screen door creaking open broke your thoughts. You turned to see Logan step out, hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans, his flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows. His hair was tousled, and that familiar rugged look on his face was softened by the evening glow.
"Hey," he said in that gruff, low voice of his, though there was a hint of something else there—an unspoken emotion he rarely showed.
“Hey yourself,” you replied, giving him a warm smile. “What’ve you been up to?”
Logan walked over to stand beside you, eyes scanning the landscape for a moment before turning back to you. “Just thinkin’,” he said, his brow furrowing slightly.
“Uh-oh, that’s dangerous,” you teased lightly, earning a huff of amusement from him. You nudged his arm playfully, leaning your head against his shoulder. “What’s on your mind?”
Logan was silent for a long moment, and you could feel the tension in him. It wasn’t the usual kind, though. This was different.
Finally, he sighed, turning to face you fully. His hands came out of his pockets, reaching to take yours. His grip was firm but gentle—another rare thing with him.
“You,” he said simply, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’ve been thinkin’ about you.”
Your heart fluttered at his words. Logan wasn’t one for grand declarations, but when he said things like that, they always hit deep. “What about me?” you asked softly.
Logan’s gaze dropped to your intertwined hands, a slight frown tugging at his lips, but not in anger or frustration. More like he was struggling to find the right words.
“I don’t deserve this,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t deserve you.”
You opened your mouth to protest, but he continued before you could.
“I’ve done a lot of things…things I’m not proud of. Hurt a lot of people. Been fightin’ my whole damn life, and I’m just…I’m tired. But you—" he paused, his eyes meeting yours, full of raw vulnerability. "You’re too good for me. Deserve better than some broken-down, fightin’ machine.”
Your heart ached at the way he saw himself, always so hard on who he was, who he had been. You cupped his face gently, your thumb brushing over the rough stubble of his jaw.
“Logan,” you whispered, making sure he was looking at you, “you deserve everything in the world. You deserve peace, love…me.” You gave him a soft smile, hoping he could feel the sincerity in your words. “You’ve been through so much, and you’re still standing. You still care. That’s why you deserve it.”
He stared at you for a long moment, the battle waging in his mind visible in his eyes. But slowly, you saw the walls begin to crumble. His shoulders relaxed, and he leaned into your touch.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly, but there was a small, almost shy smile playing at his lips.
You smiled back, pulling him down for a gentle kiss. It wasn’t rushed or heated—just a quiet moment between the two of you, where everything else faded away. When you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, the two of you standing in the soft glow of the setting sun.
“You deserve me because you love me,” you whispered against his lips. “And I love you. That’s all there is to it.”
Logan’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, and you could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your chest.
“For what it’s worth,” he said, his voice a low rumble, “I love you too, darlin’. More than I ever thought I could.”
You smiled, your heart swelling with warmth. In that moment, surrounded by the peace of the woods and the comfort of his embrace, everything felt right.
Because he did deserve it. And you were more than happy to give him everything.
--
EVERYTHING PERM: @nekoannie-chan @kjs-s @notyourtypicalrose @mistressofallthingsgeeky
MARVEL PERM: @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @late-to-the-party-81 @capsthot @kenzieam @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes
LOGAN/WOLVERINE:  @winterslove1917
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alphajocklover · 2 days
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InstaJock: Going Viral
**Hey! This is my entry for @occamstfs Viral Transformation Challenge. Congrats on getting 2,000 followers, and thank you for beta reading this and helping me edit it. I hope I can get to 2,000 followers myself one day! For those who are new to my stories, this does connect to the plot established in my blog, but the concept is simple enough you should be able to follow along even if you don't usually read my stuff! I hope you all enjoy!**
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When I talk about the InstaJock App Phenomenon – which I seem to do a lot. What is this, the 17th InstaJock related post? I need to diversify more – I usually talk about the transformation aspects and not the app itself. That’s partially because the transformation is the most interesting and hottest part, but it’s also because I haven’t been able to take a good look at the app. Even with all the protective spells and equipment I have, I can’t use a phone with InstaJock on it for very long without getting an urge to set up an account. 
Until now.
With some help from the devilishly handsome (and literally devilish) Nick, I’ve been able to get my hands on some better equipment and better explore the app. I was able to spend a couple hours on it before I needed to quit, and actually got some very interesting information, mainly about how the app works post-transformation. I had always assumed that once a user got transformed into a jock, they’d ignore the app from then on unless they wanted to change someone. I was very, very wrong, not just about that but about the purpose of the app itself. It’s not just for making people into jocks: it’s for finding the best ones.
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The app generally works like any other social media app, with its members posting about their interests. It’s set up is a lot like Instagram, where pictures and videos are the main format used for posting, but what really makes it different from other social media apps is the content. You can probably guess what an app full of buff cocky jocks looks like, but I’ll confirm it for you: the app is a thirst trap paradise.
The entire app is stuffed with half naked –  and sometimes fully naked – photos of buff jocks, ones of all different kinds. If you can think up a jock related stereotype, they have a full hashtag dedicated to it. Just buff jocks playing sports, flexing and making out with other hot people, for as far. I know that doesn’t sound too different from normal social media apps, as most have a healthy NSFW side, but the posts have more in common then just showing jocks. Each and every post, every one that I saw, mentioned a Master. Some were talking about how they were getting pumped up at the gym for Master, some were talking about how they loved being jocks and were so glad Master had found them, and some were literally begging for Master to notice them, often wantonly describing how they’d debase themselves and be the sluttiest jock ever, all for him. Everyone on the app would post at least once a day about this mysterious Master. It doesn’t seem to matter if the jock is a dom, a sub, a top, a bottom, in a relationship, single, gay or even straight, all of them wanted this mysterious unnamed master – so much so they seemed to completely change personalities whenever he is mentioned. It seems instaJock has an additional side effect I didn’t know about till now: complete and utter devotion to their Master.
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It took me a while, and some covert interviewing of a number of jocks in their DMs, but I think I figured out what's happening. The Jocks aren’t just posting for fun, they’re competing with each other. InstaJock isn’t really a social media app, it’s a sort of ranking app. Every day the jocks log on, post a picture of themselves with a caption somehow related to their Master, and leave likes on some of the other posts, usually the ones they find hot. If a jock’s post gets enough likes though, they get what every jock wants, what all of them are trying to get. They get to Go Viral.
Going Viral on IntsaJock isn’t like going viral on a regular app. It essentially means you’ve gotten enough likes, been reposted enough times, and have become popular enough on the site… that Master has noticed you. That's what the social media part of the app is really for. It’s just a way for Master’s jocks to organize themselves so only the hottest ones show up on his feed. If he really likes you, he’ll do more than just look too. Soon that Jock will disappear from his regular life, never to be seen again, whisked away to become a part of Master’s personal harem. This entire time the app has been about one thing: creating lovestruck sex slaves for the man who created InstaJock.
Like most actual social media apps, InstaJock jumps from one thing to another, and what's viral is always changing. But there are two tags that are always trending on InstaJock. The first, and most popular, is #JockMaster, which is only ever used by this mysterious Master when he makes a post. I’ve seen his account. He never shows his face on it, but from what little of his body that makes it into the photos, he’s… enchanting. As much as I hate to admit it, seeing just a bit of that creep almost made me drool. He usually only posts a couple times a week, as opposed to the jock who posts daily, but everything he posts goes viral on the app in moments. I’ll admit, there's something about his posts that is just… hypnotic. I almost set up an account after seeing one myself, and probably would have if Nick wasn’t there to stop me.
The other tag that's always trending is… more interesting, at least to me. It’s #MastersBoyfriend. It’s another tag used only by Master, and one he uses whenever he posts a picture of one particular member of his harem. 
Whenever he posts pictures… of my Uncle John.
I finally know who took my Uncle. I know who this Master is. I suspected it was him for a while, but now I’m sure. The man who made InstaJock and the man who turned my Uncle into a slutty buff himbo are one in the same. I finally have proof.
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So now what?
**The identity of the person behind InstaJock AND the person behind my Uncle's transformation and kidnapping has finally been revealed! Been working up to this for a long time, and I'm glad to keep this story moving forward! Hope you liked it as much as I do! Thank you to @occamstfs once again for being absolutely awesome and inspiring!**
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harrytheehottie · 2 days
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JUNO
WORD COUNT: 2K MASTERLIST this is a part of the short & sweet fic challenge @harry-on-broadway let me know what you think 💘 hope you enjoy!
The sun was casting a warm golden glow through the windows of your living room as you sat on the couch. Harry was in the kitchen making your nightly tea as you rested on the sofa. It was a peaceful evening, like many that you have shared over the last three years. This familiar feeling and routine was something you cherished especially with the hectic schedule Harry’s life could bring.
A year ago, he finished his two year long world tour. It was an incredible feat and one that was an emotional roller coaster since it began. He had his entire life planned from the minute we all went into lockdown to the final show in Italy and these last seven months were spent just making up for lost time. He was always home when you came back from work, he was the one that was traveling on your schedule and your terms. It was a great change from how your relationship was before. You didn’t have to anticipate the day that he was going to go away for weeks at a time because you were a part of that decision making now and it only made the two of you stronger as a unit. 
You glanced at the framed photos on the mantel: you and Harry in various stages over the last three years--goofing around backstage at Coachella, the night he turned his green room in MSG into a home theater and begged security to let you two spend the night after you just got off a six hour flight to surprise him for his last show. It was the simple moments that were your favorite, the picture of you walking through the Heath, a cup of coffee and pastries in tow for your favorite weekend tradition of a Saturday morning picnic. 
This was the first year that you were able to think about the future just as it pertained to you and Harry. You didn’t have to think about how your life decisions factored into anyone else's. You always knew you wanted to have a family. He was always going above and beyond for the children in his life not just by spoiling them with gifts but checking up on them and making sure they knew that he was always there. And this became more apparent when he became an Uncle. He was always the first to offer up babysitting so his sister and her partner could enjoy some quality time, even making the trek up to Cheshire to watch his cousin's children if they asked.
So, when Harry walked back into the living room with a cup of tea for you and snacks for himself you sort of blurted it out before you had the chance to second guess the right time for this conversation. 
“I’m ready to have a baby.”
Harry’s eyes widened, completely caught off guard, “What?” almost second guessing what you just said. 
You take a deep breath, your heart racing realizing that you are not going to be able to take those words back. “I’ve just been thinking, we have talked about the future a lot as this far-fetched idea but we’re here now and…” you paused looking up at him, his expression shifting from the initial shock, he leaned closer, taking your hands in his. You knew how Harry worked and the subtle shift in energy was all you needed to continue, “I know not to think, I know I’m ready… for that next step.” 
A moment of silence stretched between you as he processed your words “You really mean that?”
“More than anything,” you admitted, looking into his eyes. “I can’t imagine going through that journey with anyone else. And it just feels good right now, us, we are so good right now and there is just no reason to wait.” 
Harry’s expression softened, and you could see the wheels turning in his mind. “It’s a big step, probably one of the biggest steps we will ever take together.” 
“Will we ever truly be ready?” You chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. “Life is unpredictable, but I want this with you.I want to build a family together.”
He was quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting to the window. “I’ve thought about it too,” he finally said, turning back to you. “I want that. I’ve always wanted it honestly. I remember the first time you met Ruby and the way she was instantly drawn to you. S’probably when the thought first crossed my mind.”
You remembered that day. You were so incredibly nervous to meet Harry’s close group of friends. It was Ruby -- his God daughter’s 4th birthday. You had only been dating for around three months at that point. You remember stressing about what to buy her as a gift and even though Harry promised no one would think twice if you showed up empty handed. You still scoured the internet looking up every list of ‘best gifts for a 4 year old girl’ and settled on a Peppa Pig Camper Playset with all the characters. And to say it was a hit was an understatement. The two of you still joke about how as soon as Ruby opened her present she demanded that you stay after to set up the toy and play with her. 
Harry remembers watching the way you were interacting with Ruby and how her father, Ben made a comment about how he had never seen Harry so fixated on someone before like he had you. It was still early days but he always went back to that moment and how it led you to where you are now. 
“So, are we ready to do this?” You asked with a mix of excitement and nervousness in your voice. 
“You know, if we really want to be serious about this. We’re going to have to start practicing.” Harry teased pulling you closer to him. The warmth of his body against yours as his lips met yours. The kiss was soft at first, tentative like he was emphasizing the importance of the moment you just shared.  
You pulled away first, a smirk on your face, “Hmm.. practice? I’m feeling a little tired right now,” You teased with a wide yawn stretching your arms over your head. The playful banter that you know drives him crazy. Harry moves his hands to cup your face, his thumb glazing over your lips again, “C’mere” he whispers. He begins kissing down your neck, leaving small kisses along his path from his lips. You move your hands through his hair, as he scoots back on the couch, pushing your shirt up in the process and you help to take it off.
The kisses continue. He’s moving down your neck, between your cleavage and he stops right at the top of your stomach. His hands that were holding yours moved to touch your belly — picturing what was going to happen next. The commitment to a family and how you would be the home for his future baby. You were almost tearing up at the sight of him and just how careful he was already, always putting your needs first and making you his priority. 
“You’re gonna have to use your words, baby,” You whisper as Harry moves his hands to the waist of your pants. You are already ready for him and he knew it just by how much you were wiggling under him trying to get him to move faster.
“I want you,” he says in a low breathy tone before helping you get your pants off. You move your weight onto your forearms to get a good view of him. You watch as Harry slides your underwear to the side, a rush of pleasure washing over the both of you. “So wet for me…” leaving his lips as he moves his fingers up and down your slit. The juxtaposition of the sexyness and tenderness of the moment right as he slid one and quickly two digits in pushing his fingers in and out. The pleasure washing over your body, the whimper of ‘Oh yes’ and ‘Baby’ a moan escaping your lips as you rode out your first orgasm. 
His lips are immediately back on yours as you slide your hand into his pants pushing his joggers off trying to keep every part of your body touching. After being in a relationship for three years you still periodically used contraceptives especially when you are in the thick of it with his work never wanting anything to come in the way of jeopardizing this unspoken tension between the two of you. And tonight, was going to be and feel different, no more trying to locate the last spot you left condoms going on stretches of time of just trying the process. This was intentional and you felt the mutual giddyness as you slid your hand down his length pumping him once, twice, three times before Harry is ready for you. 
“M’not gonna last very long,” he says before aligning your hips before pushing in deep. Taking a couple of deep breaths as you move your hips along with Harry as you adjust to the familiar feeling of him inside you. Harry leans his head toward you leaving kisses all over him, your nails dragging up and down his back. 
“Tell me it feels good,” You whispered the sounds of your mutual pleasure echoing in the room. 
“Feels so fuckin’ good, always s’fuckin good” Harry was moving faste and harder meeting your gaze right before letting himself go inside you. His body collapsing on top of you as both tried to catch your breath from the pleasure. You had your arms wrapped around his body wanting to keep the warmth of his body on you forever. 
You cleaned yourselves up and spent the rest of the night thinking about your future and how you were going to take that next step forward. Harry was your safe space and you were his. You both knew that this next step forward would be unlike anything you’ve done before but you were both ready, as a team to make this next step. 
And one day, you will be in this same living room waiting for Harry to finish making a bottle for your future baby - and boy, could you not wait. 
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Sweeter Than Revenge Part 7
Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader, Scott's Sister!reader Summary: After you kissed Tyler on his livestream, things between the two of you only continue to develop. Word Count: 3169 TW: Flirting, Kissing, Developing Feelings, Language Notes: A massive thank you to @blue-aconite and @green-socks for reading this over for me and for all the constant support! And to @mayhem24-7forever for always answering my late-night panicked messages
Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)
Series Masterlist
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You weren’t sure how long you and Tyler remained seated in the front of his truck with your lips pressed against each other, but far sooner than you would have liked, you heard Boone shouting from outside, “Hey, love birds! You’ll wanna see this!”
Reluctantly, you broke away from Tyler, both of you panting slightly as you gazed at each other. Then he winked before undoing his harness and climbing out of the truck. You took a deep breath, unhooked your own harness (after a momentary struggle), and opened the truck door.
The winds still rustled gently over the field as you eased out of the truck, your feet standing on the running board as you leaned against the door. About 100 yards in front of you, the tornado continued to twist and twirl through the grass as it made its way away from the truck. Now that your initial fear of driving into it had passed, you were really able to appreciate the magnificence and raw power of the towering wall of wind. It truly was a wonder of nature and you understood why people came from all over just to experience this moment.
You, Tyler, and Boone continued to watch the storm until it began to collapse several minutes later. The death of the tornado was in some ways just as beautiful as the raging storm itself. And as the last of the funnel disappeared, leaving nothing but dark clouds and a band of rain where it had once stood, it felt like a spell was broken as the world around you exhaled.
Looking at you from the other side of the truck, Tyler grinned. “Well, sweetheart, what did you think?”
“That was fucking amazing!” you cried as you jumped down from the truck. “It was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced in my life! Oh my god, Tyler, thank you!” 
As you reached him, you threw yourself into his arms, squeezing him tightly and burying your face in his neck. He laughed as he twirled you around and you could feel his heart racing in his chest, fueled by the same adrenaline that was flooding your system. 
When he stopped, you lifted your head. He was staring right at you, his green eyes sparkling like the stars he had shown you the night you met, his smile so wide that his dimples were on full display. You had never seen someone so breathtaking and full of life before. It was intoxicating.
He must have been thinking the same thing about you.
Tracing his fingers down the side of your face, he murmured, “What are you thanking me for? Chasing the storm…or the kiss?”
You licked your lips as you stared at his and whispered, “Both.”
“Good.” Tyler bent his head down until his mouth just barely hovered over yours. “As long as there’s no regrets.”
“Just that we waited so long to do this.” And you pressed your lips against his. 
You were still kissing when you heard several vehicles pull up beside you. You looked up to see Dani, Dexter, and Lily leaning out their windows, cheering and catcalling as they watched you and Tyler. 
Tyler took a step towards them, his hands raised, “All right, all right. Y’all had your fun.”
“Looks like you two did too,” Dani smirked as she held up a tablet and hopped out of her van. 
“I’m sorry we kind of ruined your video,” you said, sinking sheepishly into yourself.
“Ruined it?” Dexter chuckled. “We already have more views after twenty minutes than most of our videos get after being posted for a month.”
“Really?” You reached out to take the tablet from Dani so you could look, but she drew it into her chest.
“Um…you might not want to look at the comments.”
Your smile evaporated as you looked around at each of the Wranglers. “Oh. But I thought you said…”
Lily hesitated, fiddling with the goggles she just pulled off her head. “They liked the video but some people are just a little…” She hesitated as she struggled to find the right word.
Dani snorted, “They’re jealous. Tyler’s fangirls weren’t too happy seeing him swapping spit with the pretty new girl while they had to just sit there and watch.”
“Oh,” you blinked. That was not the answer you had been expecting.
Tyler placed his hand gently on the back of your arm. “We can go through and delete those comments and make sure everyone knows we don’t stand for that kind of stuff on our page.”
You shrugged. “Let ‘em talk.”
“Really?” Tyler asked, his brow furrowing under the brim of his cowboy hat. 
“Yeah,” you grinned. “If the cost of me getting to do this is a little online hate, I’ll gladly pay that price.” Then you planted another big kiss on his lips. 
Tyler wrapped himself around your waist and the next thing you knew, he dipped you backward, his muscular arms the only thing keeping you from crashing to the ground. It felt like a scene straight out of a romance novel. The Cowboy and the College Girl. 
Yet this was better than any romance novel because it was real. Tyler was real and he was kissing you and it was everything you had wanted since he drew you into his chest as you cried under the stars in the back of his truck the night you met. And you never wanted it to end.
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Everyone was hungry after the morning of excitement so Dexter ducked into the camper van and reappeared several minutes later with a plate of sandwiches and individual bags of chips. Everyone else grabbed folding chairs from their vehicles, but Tyler lowered the tailgate of his truck, sat on the edge, and pulled you into his lap. You were a little uncomfortable at first, being so brazen in front of the rest of the crew, but you quickly settled back against his chest as you ate. Already, you felt like you just fit perfectly in his arms and you couldn’t stop the smile from stretching across your face as you chewed.
The other Wranglers exchanged a few looks and soft snickers, but they didn’t say anything. It was only as everyone was finishing up, that Boone addressed the elephant in the field. 
“So, is this gonna be a thing now?”
“Boone—” Tyler’s voice had a slight warning edge.
His friend held up his hands. “I don’t mean nothing by it, I’m just wondering.”
Before Tyler could answer, you leaned back so you could look at him directly. “You know, I’d like to know the answer to that too.”
There were a few ‘ooo’s’ from Dani and Lily, but Tyler ignored them. Holding your gaze, his green eyes shining with open sincerity, he said, “How about I like you a lot and am excited to get to see where this goes?”
“Yeah, I’m good with that.” He leaned down and gently kissed you on the lips. When he sat back up, you smiled. “You know, I’ve never been with a Southern cowboy before. It’s already been such a big change having a guy come pick me up each morning or walk me to my room every night.” Nudging his side, you added, “You might regret that because I’m starting to expect it.”
He grinned, his dimples on full display, and dipped his head. “Yes, ma’am.”
You settled back, snuggling into him as his arms tightened around you. 
“Aww!” Lily said. “You two are so cute together!”
“Yeah, just be careful you don't invite him in when he walks you to your room,” Dani teased.
Tyler rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up.”
Everyone else started laughing but you had clearly missed something. “Um, why shouldn't I do that?”
Tyler sighed. “It’s nothing. They're all just idiots.”
Boone grinned at his friend’s annoyance. “Tyler said back in his rodeo days, the whole circuit traveled all over the country for competitions, staying in cheap motels like we do now.”
Dani leaned on Boone’s shoulder and picked up his story. “And whenever they’d hire a new girl to travel with ‘em, they’d warn her ‘don’t invite one of the cowboys into your room unless you plan on him spending the night’.”
“I never should have told y’all about that,” Tyler grumbled under his breath. Louder, he said, “It’s been a running joke since then. Even though it’s not true—” he shot Boone and Dani a sharp glare, and they held up their hands “—they never let me forget it. But I’m perfectly capable of going into a person’s room at night and leaving before the next morning.”
“Oh, so you’re love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of guy,” Dani said, nodding. “Nice.”
“Fuck you,” Tyler growled, tensing beneath you. It was obvious Dani was just teasing, but you had gotten to know Tyler well enough to know respect and courtesy meant a lot to him. And even just the insinuation that he might not treat you the way you ought to be treated hit a nerve. 
Placing one hand on his thigh, you gave it a tight squeeze. His face had lost all of the happiness it had just a moment ago, but you gave him a warm smile, hopefully reassuring him you knew the kind of man he was. 
Then, you turned back to the rest of the Wranglers. Popping a chip into your mouth, you asked, “So…any of you ever invite Tyler in just to test out that theory?”
Everyone was quiet for a moment. Then Lily spoke up. “No…but he does share a room with Boone.”
Boone’s head shot up at the sound of his name. He had started fiddling with his camera when things got tense between Dani and Tyler, so he blinked, clearly trying to figure out what he had missed. Then, with a huge smile, he exclaimed, “Oh yeah! Ty and I always share a room. Sleeping with a friend is much better than sleeping alone.”
There was a pause before everyone burst out laughing. Boone looked around, not quite understanding the joke. As the conversation shifted into poking fun at Boone and the other Wranglers’ sleeping arrangements, Tyler pressed his lips into your hair, just above your ear, and whispered, “Thank you.” 
You could already feel the tension easing out of him and you squeezed his leg again in acknowledgement. After all the times you had leaned on Tyler for support in the last few days, it felt nice to actually be able to do something for him for a change. 
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The rest of the afternoon, you rode next to Tyler as the crew looked for another storm to chase. Boone had made some excuse about needing to talk to Lily about the quality of their live stream so he rode in her van. You weren't sure whether that was his idea or Tyler’s, but you weren’t complaining about having a bit of alone time with the lead Tornado Wrangler. 
It seemed now that the line had been crossed, neither of you could keep your hands to yourselves. The confined space of the truck cabin along with the restrictive nature of your seat belts limited your methods of contact but you still found ways around those obstacles: While Tyler told you about growing up in Texas, you nodded along as you trailed your fingers through his hair. While you explained what you were going to school for and what you wanted to do after graduation, he smiled and played with the strap of your tank top. While you both discussed your favorite movies and music, your hands were linked across the center console. 
By the time Tyler pulled into a motel for the night, your body was aching for more of him. At one point, you had to force yourself not to squeeze your legs together or let out a soft moan as he rested his hand on your bare thigh just below the frayed cutoff bottoms of your shorts. Yet you couldn’t stop your toes from curling in your boots as he began absentmindedly rubbing his thumb in circles over your skin. As soon as you got the key to your room, you were going to have to take a very lengthy cold shower.
But it wasn’t just the physical moments that had your heart racing as you climbed out of the truck. There was never a moment of awkward silence or uncomfortableness, just effortless, engaging conversation and laughter. You had learned so much more about the cowboy and every little new thing just made you like him all the more. 
After Tyler helped you out of the truck, he left to book the rooms for the night. You unloaded a few of the bags out of the back—including your own—and looked around. Strangely, you didn’t see the faintest trace of Storm PAR. None of their vehicles were in the parking lot and you couldn’t spot a single one of their signature polos mingling around in the crowd of people settling in after the day of chasing. 
Hopefully something hadn’t happened in the field today…
“Hey.” You turned to see Lily approaching, holding out a piece of paper folded into a small square. “I saw Javi when we stopped for gas. He asked me to give this to you. Said Storm PAR is staying on the other end of town tonight.”
Think of the devil… You took the paper from her. “Did he say why?”
“No, but I sort of got the impression he was in a hurry to get back to his truck so I didn’t ask.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
As Lily walked away, you opened the note. The handwriting was a bit sloppy and hard to decipher, almost as if it were scrawled in a hurry, but you read:
He’ll deny it, but Scott watched today. Might want to keep your distance for a while.
You smiled as you reread it. Yeah, Scott probably wasn’t too happy to see you locking lips with Tyler and you were sure to get an earful about that at some point, but Scott had watched the stream. Maybe it was just so he could say he told you so and rub it in everyone’s face if you chickened out, but you couldn’t help but think—hope—that he might have been watching because he was worried for your safety. Could it be that your big brother cared about you after all?
“What’s got you so smiley?” 
You looked up and held out the note for Tyler to see as he got closer. “You might want to avoid my brother for a few days. Seems he caught our little make-out session this morning and I have a feeling if he didn’t hate you before, he does now.”
“I’m not worried. I can handle Scotty.” He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in, twisting you so your back pressed against his chest. Then he rested his chin on your shoulder. “But how are you feeling about him seeing that?”
“I’m…good. When I first got here and came up with this stupid plan, I would have been thrilled that he saw us. I would have tracked him down and rubbed it in his face just to see his blood boil. But now—” you tilted your head and nuzzled it against Tyler’s “—I don’t care what he thinks or how he’s reacting. I don’t want to waste any more of my energy on him. I just want to focus on us.”
“Hmmm,” Tyler hummed, the sound vibrating through your body. “‘Us’. I like the sound of that.”
“Not too presumptuous?”
“Not at all,” he said, tightening his arms around your waist. “I’d be more than happy to be part of an us with you.” 
The two of you remained standing by Tyler’s truck, swaying gently wrapped in each other’s arms for several minutes. You would have stayed there all night if you could, but the adrenaline of the day began wearing off and you struggled to keep your eyes open. Reluctantly, you whispered, “I think I should be heading to my room.”
Tyler nodded against you. “Would you like an escort?”
“Always.”
He gave you one final squeeze before releasing you. Then he grabbed your backpack from where you had tossed it on the ground earlier, and he threw his other arm across your shoulders. Walking with your head resting on his chest, the two of you made your way across the parking lot and up the stairs to your room. It was becoming a familiar routine but this time the walk seemed too short and, in no time, you were standing in front of your door. 
You opened it and turned to face Tyler. “Thank you for everything today. The storm a-and us.”
He reached out and brushed his thumb across your cheekbone. “I’m just sorry I waited. I shoulda kissed you the first night after I walked you to your room or when we were lying in the back of my truck. I knew then that I wanted there to be an us.”
“Me too.” Pressing your forehead against his, your eyes fluttered closed as you whispered, “Why does it feel like I’ve known you for years when it’s only been three days?”
He hummed back, “I don’t know, but I feel it too. Like...you’ve always been here with me. Is that crazy?”
“No. It’s a bit sappy but also romantic as fuck.” 
Tyler snorted, the brief burst of air tickling your nose. Then he whispered, “I should go.”
You nodded, opening your eyes. You didn’t want him to leave but the intensity and speed at which your feelings for him were developing almost scared you and you knew inviting him to stay was not what was best for either of you right now.
Yet as he reached for your hand, you pulled it away. With a sly smile, you said, “Uh uh. Tonight, I want a real kiss goodnight.”
Tyler grinned, flashing his dimples. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.” 
Wrapping his hand around the back of your neck, he pulled you into his lips. Though the two of you had been kissing throughout the day, none of them had been like this. There was a heat, a fire burning under his skin that had never been there before. He pressed into you, his body flush against yours, and you couldn’t hold back as you moaned into his mouth. All of the need you had been feeling in his truck came rushing back, and you could feel the tension already building in your core. 
But just as you began maneuvering so you could grind against his thigh, Tyler pulled back. You gasped at the sudden loss and looked at him, mouth agape. He just smiled and whispered, “Think of me tonight, sweetheart. I know I’ll be thinking of you.” Then, he was gone.
For the third night in a row, you went to bed cursing that son of a bitch who was quickly stealing your heart.  
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Part 8 coming 9/30!
Tag list: @green-socks, @mayhem24-7forever, @blue-aconite, @hederasgarden, @writercole,
@ryebecca, @heart-0n-fire, @nerdysuperchick, @ohtobeleah, @slightly-psycho-multifan,
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l0stglitch · 3 days
Text
A night at the boardwalk
(Platonic Yandere lost boys x reader)
Notes- Sorry this took so long to write! This fic wasn’t supposed to be that dark but then idk I guess I kind of changed my mind towards the end.
Warnings- Neglectful parenting, (They’re all kind of assholes in this but at least Dwayne and Paul try to be nice)
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You glared down at the sheet in front of you, hoping that the intensity of your gaze would somehow make it disappear altogether. Algebra had always been a weak spot for you, so being given a sheet full of equations to solve by your tutor had been a very unwelcome surprise.
It was hard to even read the numbers under the dim light of the cave, which only added to your growing frustration.
“I’ve been looking for you.”
Your head shot up at the sound of Paul’s voice. Judging by the way his words seemed to almost melt into each other, you came to the conclusion that your father was definitely not sober.
“Hey pa,” You replied as he sat down on the couch beside you.
The man threw his head back with a theatrical groan and rested his arms on the back of the couch.
His eyes remained shut for a moment, before opening and curiously glancing over at you.
“Whatcha got there babe?”
You shrugged, fiddling with the paper absentmindedly.
“School work.”
Paul snorted, “School work! You actually bother with that shit? Y/n you don’t even go to school.”
You rolled your eyes at the comment, “Well yeah. Lindsey set it for me- and besides the others would kill me if I didn’t do it.”
He frowned, “Is she setting you too much work? Cause you know we can find you someone else if-”
“No! No! I like her.” You cut in quickly. Lindsey wasn’t your first tutor. You’d had a few before, but they usually didn’t last long. Each one mysteriously disappearing after a few months.
Since you weren’t enrolled in school, your fathers (well, David and Dwayne) had decided that it was important that you were still somewhat educated, and had taken the responsibility of finding tutors for you.
It was risky of course, having outsiders visit the cave to teach you, so it wasn’t surprising that your fathers were extremely careful about who they picked and what information they gave to them.
Lindsey was the best so far, but she had been teaching you for three months by now. You knew it was only a matter of time until they replaced her.
Paul took the work from you and squinted at it.
“You know how much math I do each day?”
You frowned, “Uh- do you even know how to do math?”
He scrunched the paper into a ball and threw it across the room.
“Nope! And I don’t need to- cause it’s all just dumb made up shit.”
He twisted onto his knees and grabbed you by your shoulders.
“Look babe, you should be enjoying life- not wasting it on algebra.”
You laughed dryly, “I would if David hadn’t grounded me.”
Paul sat back with a defeated look on his face, “Well shit. I forgot about that. Wait- what did you do again?”
“Fuck knows.”
He hummed and lit a spliff.
You debated asking for a smoke, but ultimately decided not to.
“Y’know… I think you’re right about me enjoying life.”
Paul quirked a brow, “Well duh. Im always right.”
“Yeah, so I was thinking maybe you could take me to the boardwalk.”
“Take you to the boardwalk…” He repeated under his breath.
“Yep. David said I can’t go alone, so as long as you’re with me..”
Your dad blinked at you, trying to make sense of what you were saying.
“So.. so.. you’re grounded- or are you not?”
You smiled innocently and shook your head. “Not grounded.”
“And you want me to take you to the boardwalk?”
“Yeah.”
Paul paused for a second, “Sure, that sounds fun.”
You grinned, delighted by how easy it was to get your way.
“Great! I’ll go grab a jacket.”
He nodded slowly, “Ok I’ll uh- I’m getting the keys then.”
You almost tripped in your haste to get to your room. You grabbed a worn leather jacket from your clothes rack before spinning around and running back to Paul.
Unsurprisingly, you got back before he had managed to find the keys to the bike.
“Pa, they’re in that drawer over there.” You said as you entered the main part of the cave, pointing over to a small, wooden chest of drawers.
He frowned, “Coulda sworn I just checked that one…” you heard him mumble to himself as he lumbered over to where you had directed him.
“Ha! You’re right babe- they were here this whole time. That’s weird.”
You smiled impatiently, “Can we go now?”
“You aren’t gonna put on your jacket?”
You glanced down at the leather tucked under your arm, realising you’d forgotten to put it on in your rush.
“Yes- fine! Can we please go now?”
Paul watched as you quickly shoved your arms into the sleeves with barely concealed frustration. Not that he particularly noticed in his impaired state.
“Cmon then.”
He stood up and held out a hand. Usually you would’ve refused, claiming to be too old for that, but you knew better than to test your limits right now. As long as you got out the cave, that was all that mattered.
Paul spoke to you the whole ride. Or at least, you think he did- it was difficult to hear over the rushing wind and snarling engine.
When you eventually reached the boardwalk, it only took around 5 minutes for your father to get distracted.
You noticed them before he did. A rowdy mix of surf nazis and punks, many of them seeming to recognise Paul. They called him over, flashing their alcohol and weed enticingly at him.
He looked at you, torn between his responsibilities as a father and the desire to do whatever the fuck he wanted.
“You stay here, ok? I’ll be five minutes. Don’t go anywhere.”
You nodded obediently, “Don’t worry Pa, you can trust me.”
He ruffled your hair, “I know.”
You stood there for a moment, watching as he eagerly greeted the group. It saddened you slightly, seeing how he’d rather spend the night with them instead of you, but at least it gave you the opportunity to see your friends.
Once you were sure he wasn’t coming back, you began making your way through the busy crowds. The smell of food stalls, and the sound of people chattering excitedly- you loved it. You loved the boardwalk with your whole heart.
“Y/n! Is that you?”
You turned at the sound of your best friend’s voice. She was hanging out with a group of kids you’d never seen before, a surprised look on her face.
You hurried over, greeting her with a hug.
“I’ve missed you Beth,” you said as you pulled out of the embrace. Your friend smiled and gave your hand a warm squeeze.
“Me too- I kinda thought you were grounded.”
“Yeah I was. I managed to convince Paul to take me out.”
Bethany frowned, “Is he the one who taught you to skateboard?”
You were touched by her effort to try and remember the things you had told her about your dads. “No that’s Dwayne. Paul’s the stoner.”
She nodded, “Ah ok, so that means we won’t have to worry about being caught?”
“Unless one of the others shows up we should be fine.”
“Great! Let’s go do something fun then.”
You frowned, glancing over at the other kids she was with, “You’re just gonna leave them?”
Bethany shrugged, “They’re just school friends. I’d rather hang out with you.”
You smiled, “If you’re sure. What kind of fun did you have in mind?”
She shot you a sly grin, “How about we get our ears pierced?”
“Again?”
“Yeah, we can get our seconds done!”
You hesitated, imagining David or Marko’s reaction to another set of piercings.
“Oh cmon, your dads are punks right? Surely they won’t be that pissed off.”
“Yeah but they’re also total hypocrites and control freaks.”
Bethany gave you a pleading look, and you finally gave in.
“Ok ok, let’s go do it.”
She squealed in excitement and grabbed your hand, “We’re gonna look so cool! Have you eaten yet? We can grab some hotdogs or something after!”
You laughed, “I’m starving! We’ve got like no food at home.”
Beth shot you a sympathetic look, “Aw you poor thing. They starvin you again?”
“Yeah but.. not purposely this time,” you shrugged, trying to downplay it.
“Ok, well we’ll get ya something to eat after.”
You nodded, “That’s the place, right?”
She glanced over to the tattoo parlour you were looking at, “Yeah that’s it. I know a guy whose brother works there.”
You hummed as you both reached the door, “Sometimes it feels like you know the whole of Santa Carla.”
Bethany laughed, “You would too if your dads let you go to school.”
You shrugged, “Maybe one day…”
Your conversation seemed to naturally die as you both walked inside.
The guy Bethany knew was nice enough- he gave you both a 50% discount and told you to come back again should you ever want anything else.
You thanked him and left once you were finished, eager to find something to eat.
“You want any mustard on that?”
You quickly shook your head, “Just ketchup’s fine.”
The guy in the van nodded, squirting red sauce onto your hotdog. He handed you the food in exchange for a couple dollars and you walked back over to Bethany.
“You sure you don’t want anything?”
The blonde girl shrugged, “Me and mum ate earlier.”
You nodded and took a large bite out of the hotdog.
Bethany watched you eat. The way you hungrily tore into your food saddened her- she knew you were being mistreated by your parents. She knew that sometimes you’d go days without food. You claimed it was accidental, and that they would never starve you as a form of punishment, but she wasn’t so sure.
“Y’know, you could always move in with us. My mum wouldn’t mind, and my dad… well he’s been gone for a while now. I doubt he’s gonna come back anytime soon.”
You swallowed your food and shook your head, “Beth I couldn’t do that to you. If my dads found out-”
You stopped yourself before you could say it. If your dads found out that you had moved in with your best friend, then she was as good as dead.
You’d seen what they were capable of. Only once, but that was enough to change the way you saw them. They were predators. They fed off people. People like Bethany. People like you.
“I know I just- I just worry about you.”
You smiled, “You shouldn’t, you got your own shit to deal with.”
She laughed humourlessly, “You mean my dad? He’s long gone, Y/n. I don’t need to worry about him anymore.”
You were about to reply, when a familiar voice suddenly caught your attention.
“Two hours Paul! Two fucking hours and you somehow managed to lose her.”
You stopped in your tracks and grabbed Bethany’s hand. She shot you a questioning look, but you offered no explanation.
“Dude I swear I was only gone for like five minutes! I thought I could trust her.”
“She’s thirteen! In what world is a thirteen year old trustworthy?”
Bethany suddenly seemed to catch on. “Shit! Are those your dads?”
You nodded frantically, “Yeah! They uh- they definitely know I’m here so you gotta get outta here now before they see you.”
“You gonna be ok?”
“I’ll be fine- just go ok?”
Your friend reluctantly turned around, sending you a quick goodbye before disappearing into a crowd.
A moment later, David rounded the corner, followed by Dwayne, Paul and Marko.
“Where the fuck have you been?” David demanded, his icy blue eyes staring threateningly at you.
“I was hungry.” You said, meekly holding up the ketchup stained napkin.
Dwayne took a step closer, eyes full of worry, “Paul forgot to feed you?”
You narrowed your eyes, “I can feed myself- there just wasn’t any food.”
David scoffed, “So you snuck out cause you were hungry?”
You frowned, “I didn’t sneak out- Paul took me!”
“Hey! Don’t blame this on Paul. He brought you here as a kind gesture and you fucking ran off!” Marko interjected.
“He went off to get high! How is that my fault?” You could hear how your voice was getting whinier the more you spoke, desperate and full of frustration.
Paul opened his mouth to speak, but David cut him off. “Enough of this. It’s time to go home.”
You bit your tongue to stop yourself from arguing with him, knowing it would only make the situation worse.
Dwayne took your hand and rubbed your knuckles placatingly. “Cmon babe let’s go.”
You nodded wordlessly, allowing him to lead you to where they had parked their bikes.
Dwayne mounted the ride first, before helping you up onto the seat behind. You glanced over and accidentally locked eyes with Paul. He looked slightly apologetic, although it was hard to tell through the darkness.
“Alright let’s go!” David called over the grumble of the engines. You wrapped your arms tightly around Dwayne’s waist as his bike shot forward seconds later.
The cool night air stung your eyes, forcing you to shut them.
Smothered by the howling wind, you could hear laughter and cheering from your fathers. It almost felt like they were taunting you.
They were excited to get back to the cave. Excited to punish you. It made you sick.
Tag list- @bella-goths-wife @xjesterxjacksx @simplyreading96 @ursinaw @purple-lemon-8
(This technically isn’t a part 2 of the first fic because I wasn’t really sure what direction to take that one but I do have a few ideas for this so if anyone’s interested in a part 2 of this or just has any suggestions/requests my asks are open!)
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sonotpattismith · 2 days
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My Lost, Fearless Leader.
(Yuta Okkotsu x Reader)
As the men masqueraded, I hoped you’d return with your feet on the ground, tell me all that you’d learned, because love’s never lost once perspective is earned.
word count: 9k
warnings: angst, me never making it easy for poor Yuta
a/n: inspired by Peter by Taylor Swift. Lowkey a self-insert as I too am a therapist, tee hee. I hope y’all enjoy it, I absolutely love writing for Yuta even though I make him suffer every time 🥹🫶🏻
masterlist.
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Dear Okkotsu,
I know you only landed last week, but you left me with so many questions when you said goodbye. At the risk of sounding too forward, I thought for a moment that you would kiss me before you left. You had a look in your eye, one I’d never seen before, and I even thought I saw you square your shoulders like you were about to charge into battle.
Inumaki offered to give me your number when I asked about you, but I feared too quick of a response if I were to text you. After all, I love to torture myself. Somehow a letter felt safer, more disconnected. Still, I hope you have the time to write back to me while you’re out there growing as you so desperately wanted to.
You still have me in your corner here in Tokyo.
With kind regards,
L/N.
Dear L/N,
I hope this letter gets to you soon, though I know it has some way to go— I don’t want to leave you waiting again. I wondered if I should just text you, but you’re right, maybe this is best for wimps like me who were too scared to kiss the girl they like before traveling oceans away. There’s more courage in me hiding behind a pen than I ever had standing in front of you.
No matter how badly I wanted to show you how I felt, I didn’t feel worthy enough when I looked at that scar on your face— one I should have been able to prevent. There’s so much for me to learn about this world, and Gojo-Sensei says Kenya is where I need to be. I trust him implicitly, and I only hope here I’ll be able to grow into someone worthy of coming back to all of you at Jujutsu High. Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself, but I hope to become someone worthy enough to indulge myself in you as well.
I hope you can find it in you to wait for me all the way in your corner of Tokyo.
Respectfully,
Okkotsu.
Dear Okkotsu,
You were right, your letter did travel far, and after two weeks, I feared I may not ever hear back from you.
What happened with Geto Suguru wasn’t your fault, and, if I remember correctly, you were the one that saved all of us that night. It breaks my heart that you feel you don’t have a place here with us. I never thought you needed to prove yourself, and if that’s the only reason you went thousands of miles away— then you should board the next flight back over.
If I had known it was the scar on my face that stopped you, I would have covered it just for you. No one else around here is willing to take the blame for me when I break one of Maki’s spears— that alone should earn you a spot right beside me over here. Speaking of, I hope the bump on your forehead has gone down.
Luckily for the both of us, patience is my best virtue, but I do hope you don’t make me wait terribly long. You don’t have to be the strongest.
Holding my breath,
Y/N.
Dear L/N,
Maybe eventually I’ll work up the courage to call you, but our weeks of waiting in between will just have to do for now.
I think you’re beautiful— regardless of your scar, and I hope I didn’t send the wrong message when I said it’s what stopped me. I only meant that it reminded me of the kind of guy that deserves your attention, one that has brought about more good than he has bad in his life.
I’ve hurt so many people, and it wouldn’t be right of me not to try to make up for the wrongs I’ve caused. It’s only been a month, but Miguel has taught me so much, and I’ve seen so many wonderful things. I’m not sure if you’re interested, but I’m sending you some pictures of all my favorite parts.
I hope Maki has been merciful to you, and, yes, my bump is gone. Still, the little scar there reminds me of you each time I see it. So, I suppose I should thank her.
We’ve been talking so much about me, but I want to hear how you’re doing back in your corner of the world. How have your classes been going? I almost miss hearing everyone arguing with Gojo-Sensei every morning.
I don’t want to be the strongest, but I want to be strong enough to be worthy of you. The last thing I want is to keep you waiting too long, but however long it takes for me to be able to make a mark on those who have shown such faith in me.
Thinking of you,
Okkotsu.
Dear Yuta,
Surely that’s not you in that picture beside the giraffe? It’s only been two months— what are they feeding you over there? I had to do a triple take. You look well, Okkotsu.
I’m starting to wonder if it’s really you behind that ink. You were never so bold when you were here. Do you have a ghostwriter? I have my doubts, but I still hope all those thoughtful words really are coming from you.
I can see how hard you’ve been working, and I hope you’re beginning to find in yourself the pride I and all us here at home have always had in you. I don’t think anyone blames you for the unfairness that’s clung to you thus far, and no one expects you to make up for any of it— at least I know I don’t. If you really insist on doing so though, maybe you can start by giving me a call every once and a while? I’m sure you're busy, but I’d love to hear your voice again.
Classes have been going well. We’re almost going into our second year now, and everyone still talks so fondly of you. We wish you were here to start the year with us. I certainly miss having someone who was equally as clueless when it came to this world— it felt like you were the last shred of normalcy I was hanging onto. It’s okay though, I suppose I have some growing to do too.
Also, you don’t need to be so formal with me, I think you’ve earned the first name basis. Unless of course, you need to build up the courage for that, too.
I only felt it was fair to send some pictures of all of us here as well— though they’re nowhere near as badass as your safari photos. Please keep sending them— I’ll cherish the ones I have here for now though.
Still waiting for you,
Y/N.
Three months following Yuta’s departure from Tokyo, you first received an actual call from him. You had just turned in for the night, muscles aching from the mission you and Maki had just returned from only an hour or two prior. Truthfully, you were having a difficult time with the added responsibility that was accompanying your new year at Jujutsu High.
Last year, at the very least, you had Yuta there who seemed on a fairly level playing field with you. Still, he held more of a determination to move forward in his life as a sorcerer than you did. After your encounter with Geto Suguru that had left you partially blinded in your right eye, it was difficult for you to find that gusto you had when you first arrived.
The deep lulls of slumber had just begun to penetrate your exhausted mind, and you could swear a more pleasant dream was just beyond your reach. When your phone began vibrating underneath your still cool pillow, your brows furrowed at the intrusion. The sound caused an electric-like jolt in your body that had you shooting up as if someone had just pulled the fire alarm. Calming your racing heart, you reached down to snatch the device up. Your eyes squinted to adjust to the blue light emitting from the screen, and you saw a number you didn’t recognize. Under the caller location though, it indicated that it was coming from Kenya.
Sitting up with a gasp, you gaped down at the device, uncertain excitement bubbling in your stomach and up your chest. Without a second thought, you swiped to answer the call. Amidst your anticipation of who you thought might be on the other line, you forgot to greet the caller.
“Um… uh- hello?”
A smile spread across your cheeks at the sound of his timid voice.
“A call from Kenya,” You began teasingly, your voice still hoarse from sleep. “I wonder who it could be.”
There was an abrupt shuffling on the other line, and you could already picture him pacing around whatever space he was currently occupying.
“You got me!” Yuta quipped nervously, quickly checking the time on his phone upon hearing the sleepy tone that laced your voice. It wasn’t too late over in Tokyo, and he figured if he didn’t call you now while he still had the nerve to do it, he never would. Okkotsu had determined during his time in Kenya that his confidence somehow peaked right after a successful mission. Naturally, this was when he calculated it would be the best time to call you with the lowest possibility of making a stuttering fool of himself. “Di-Did I wake you? I can call back another-”
“After you took three months to gather all that courage up?” You joked with a fond smile, reaching down to toy with the corner of your pillow. Despite the fact that he couldn’t see you, you shook your head. “I think I can stay up for a few minutes.”
He was grateful, so eternally grateful that you couldn’t see the way the blood rushed up his neck and into his face. Pressing a cool hand against his cheek as if it would make the heat die down, he forced himself to sit on the edge of his bed, bottom lip caught between his teeth. It had been too long already since he last spoke, and the silence on the call was becoming overbearing as he thought of anything to say.
“You there, Yuta?”
“Yeah! Yeah, I’m, uh-- still here.” The boy chuckled pathetically, pounding his balled up fist against his thigh, willing himself to quit being such a loser. Shooting up to begin his short trek around his room once again, he took a deep breath. “I-I wanted to thank you. You know, for writing to me the past few months. I think they’ve been kind of motivating me, actually.”
“Yeah?” You smiled, lying back down on your pillow to stare stupidly up at the ceiling of your dorm. In hearing that shy voice that you had been missing for so long, you had forgotten about the aching, abused muscles that had been assaulting you just minutes prior. In its place was the rushing endorphins of your child-like crush on the boy on the other line. “So, when you come back strong enough to beat Sensei’s ass, I can take partial credit, right?”
His soft laugh filled your once silent room, inciting the overwhelming butterflies in your stomach to erupt in a fluttering haze.
“It’ll all be you.” Yuta joked halfheartedly, rubbing the back of his neck in relief that he’d gotten past the awkward silence unscathed. He flopped back down onto his bed and looked out the window at the slowly setting sun. “Uh… speaking of Sensei, how is everything over there? The exchange event is coming up soon, right?”
This made your smile slowly wane.
“Yeah, it’s next month. There was some drama with the first years, but everyone else seems to be pretty excited.”
“Everyone else? It sounds like you’re not including yourself in there.”
You sighed gently. Yuta was always so determined about growing as a sorcerer, so these types of events were always right up his alley. Not to mention the manner in which he absolutely wiped out the sister school at last year’s event. It actually caused a bit of second-hand embarrassment to watch the whole ordeal play out— no matter how quickly it concluded. After the atrocities of the past few months though, you couldn’t find it within yourself to be excited for the goodwill event.
It wasn’t that long ago that you watched all your friends meet near death at the hands of Suguru Geto, and you weren’t too far behind. They had all seemingly moved on from it all so fast— all of them except for Yuta Okkotsu. It seemed that all it had done was given him more ammunition to spark his journey of self discovery. You wished it had had the same effect on you. In truth though, all it sparked was a fear that your life, along with your friends, was constantly at the mercy of a crueler fate than most your age would be subjected to.
It felt wrong. Yuta shouldn’t have felt the need to bear the weight of you and your friends’ injuries all on his own. He shouldn’t have needed to go off to search for some unknown answer to all the insecurities his grueling life had thrust upon him. Still, it was so important to him. You could see the way it gave him purpose, a will to keep going despite all that he’d been through. It wasn’t his fault, but you always wished you could have found that same purpose within slaying curses and putting your life on the line.
A soft call of your name on the other line pulled you from your self-depricating thoughts. Shaking your head, you attempted to lighten the mood.
“Last name again? So formal. I thought we were past that, Okkotsu.”
“Oh-- right, sorry.” He stammered out before trying your first name out on his lips. It was delicate in the way it rolled off his tongue, sending warmth straight through your chest. Recalling your sudden silence once his nerves subsided, his lips pulled pensively into a thin line. “Um, have you been doing okay? You know, since…”
Brows rising just a hair, you were shocked at how easily he read through your sudden change in tone. Your lip quivered into a slight frown. A deep breath was suddenly pushing down that biting urge you had to tear up.
“Yeah, I’ve been okay. Just… wish you were still here is all.” You confessed into the dark, lonely dorm room. “I think you were the only one who understood how overwhelming this all was.”
Yuta felt his chest constrict at your earnest confession. Part of him felt guilty for not being there, but he knew deep down that he was doing the right thing by building himself up before he allowed himself to come back— especially to you. Still, the boy knew where you were coming from. It wasn’t easy being the newcomer in a world where your peers had a fifteen year head start on.
The two of you understood each other—empathized with one another. You both strived to make sure the other was doing okay; whether that be sneaking out late at night to practice with one another in hopes you both wouldn’t make fools of yourselves in training the next day, or just being someone that the other could glance knowingly at when one of your classmates mentioned something it seemed that everyone else was privy to, except you two.
“I’m getting stronger everyday.” Yuta offered earnestly, a soft, empathetic smile playing on his lips— the kind you could just hear through his gentle tone. “And I know you are too. We’re gonna kick some major butt one day, y’know?”
The boy was relieved when your glittering laugh filled his speakers, and he found himself laughing along with you. A comfortable silence blanketed over you two, and for a moment it felt as though you were laying right beside him, your gentle breaths lighting a fire within his soul. The courage that he thought he had lost upon hearing your voice for the first time in months was slowly flooding back to him, and he began pensively rolling his bottom lip between his fingers.
“Hey,” Okkotsu called out feebly, resting his hand down on his chest and feeling his heart pounding against his fingers. Reaching down to your discarded letter beside him, he picked up the picture you’d sent along with it. It was of all the second years, and he wondered with a smile if you had Gojo-Sensei take it for you all, and, if so, how much he complained about not being included.
You stood in the middle of Inumaki and Maki, Panda standing proudly and towering behind you. His thumb reached out to graze softly over your face. In the photo, one of your hands was teasingly covering your right eye, and he blushed as he remembered your earlier conversation about that scar. You hummed in acknowledgment on the other line. “Did you mean it? You know… when you said you’d wait for me?”
“Did you mean it when you said you were gonna come back for me?” You countered quickly.
Yuta exhaled nervously, the churning in his chest making him feel as though he might pass out. Staring back at your smiling face in the photo, he nodded breathlessly.
“Of course, I meant it. I meant every word.”
“Then so did I.”
Yuta Okkotsu’s reassuring promise helped ground you in your studies of jujutsu for a while longer, but you could still feel the aching insistence in the back of your mind that told you this wasn’t where you were meant to be. Your friendship with the sorcerer continued to grow even over the thousands of miles that separated you.
He’d call you whenever he had the chance to, and you’d text him about updates on what all his friends had been up to without him. Although both Inumaki and Maki kept up with him regularly, he allowed you to retell stories he’d more often than not already heard from them.
He could tell that you were struggling to find and hold your place as a sorcerer. You always listened enthusiastically when he’d tell you about the new techniques he was learning or the missions he’d been sent on, nodding along on the other line and hanging onto every word he said. Still, when he’d await to hear the progress of your training or how your latest mission had gone, you didn’t have the same enthusiasm in your tone.
It had been almost a year since he’d been gone. The two of you had never implicitly discussed the nature of your relationship, but your lingering promise to each other seemed to be enough to keep your hearts locked safely away for the other’s return. As the months dragged on though, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was worth staying in the world of jujutsu that seemed to so expertly traumatize you and your peers.
You insisted on video calling him for once, eager to once again put a face to the voice that had been filling your every night for the past few months. Maybe, you thought to yourself, if you saw those warm, inviting eyes again paired with that timid smile, you’d find it in you to hold out just a bit longer.
“Ca-Can you see me?” Yuta’s ever anxious voice filled your quiet room once again. The palm of his hand briefly covered the camera before it was moved away, and it appeared as though he had propped you up on a dresser of some sort. He stepped back, hunching over so his face was still in the frame, staring hesitantly into the screen.
A brief exhale of disbelief left you at the sight of him. He had changed so much over the past year; from the inches he’d sprouted up, to the new broadness of his lean shoulders, right down to his more maturely parted hair as it swayed in his face.
His features appeared sharper than when you’d last seen him, a testament to how much he’d grown physically as well as mentally. The dark circles you remember being everpresent under his long, midnight-blue eyes seemed even more pronounced now, and you wondered just how hard this Miguel character had been working him. Despite his apparent lack of sleep though, he grinned cheerfully upon seeing your face.
Forgoing your previous concern, an ecstatic smile of your own lit up your face as you took him in. You had always thought he had a sort of innocent, gentle cuteness to him, but time and knowledge seemed to have morphed those characteristics into the sharp, hauntingly striking ghost of the boy you once knew presented before you. For the first time since knowing him, you thought you felt more nervous than he did at the moment.
“Wow! You look--” He paused, a slight flush filling his face, and suddenly he was that timid boy again, staring down at you with the false promise of a kiss. Your heart melted at the sight. Yuta was still looking nervously back at you, mouth hanging open as if his mind was running faster than his tongue could process. You raised your brows expectantly at him, hiding your amused smile. “Uh—pretty! You— you look really pretty.”
A soft blush fell across your cheeks.
“Thanks, Yuta.” You laughed softly, eyes fluttering across his face admiringly. “You look like you’ve… grown.”
“Oh, me?” He laughed skittishly, hand coming up to rustle through his jet black locks. His brows were furrowed slightly as he looked down at his own appearance as if he was only just now noticing the growth spurt he’d had in the past year. “Yeah! I guess—”
“Is that blood on your shirt?” You suddenly noticed, leaning forward so your squinting eyes could get a better look at the dark matter that clung to his white top. His eyes shot up to meet yours, and in an instant, his fumbling hands were working to unbutton his uniform shirt. It was no use though, the white t-shirt underneath was also stained through.
“Sorry, I just got back from a mission.” He admitted dejectedly, grabbing the phone and sitting on the floor, resting his back against the bed behind him. “I would’ve showered, but I didn’t want to keep you up too late.”
You sat back against your headboard tentatively. It was incredible to you how he was never phased by the violence and bloodshed that shrouded this lifestyle. There were so many nights that you lay awake, eyes unblinking as you tried to forget the horrors you’d witnessed just long enough to get some sleep.
“How do you do it, Yu?” You asked timidly.
Yuta took in the way your wide eyes glimmered with the threat of unspilled tears. There it was again— that underlying fear in your tone and demeanor that told him that something wasn’t quite right, and it hadn’t been right since you came so close to death.
“What do you mean, love?” He wasn’t sure where that term of endearment came from, maybe from the concern that had been pooling in him for months and had now suddenly burst upon seeing that broken look in your eyes. Either way, it was too late to take it back now.
“Act like everything’s normal when you come home covered in blood and guts and watch people die— watch your friends—”
“I’m doing this for my friends.” His response had a defensive edge to it, but his wide eyes were gentle, taking in your vulnerable state carefully. “And for the people I’ve had to watch die. Bad things will happen whether I’m a part of them or not. How can I sit back and do nothing when that’s all I’ve done my entire life?”
You suddenly felt small in your corner of the world. He was selfless, fearless, purposeful in his mission as a sorcerer, and you couldn’t fault him for it. Moreso, you faulted yourself for lacking that same drive.
“I just– sometimes I feel like this isn’t for me. I’m not like you, Yuta. I don’t think I’m strong enough for this. I’m not strong enough for this.”
Yuta continued to insist upon believing in your growth, just as you had believed in his. His persistence in your strength of character only served to break your heart more. You knew the deeper his faith in you ran, the more crushing his disappointment would be when you inevitably let him down.
In the weeks following your dismayed conversation with him, you weren’t answering his calls as often, afraid he would be on the other line hoping to hear of your growth and the things you’d overcome— but you had none to show for. You usually texted him with false excuses that you were on a mission, or that you were simply too tired to talk that night. No matter how hard you tried to pride yourself in your little victories, your faith in your abilities as a sorcerer was waning quickly before your eyes.
He had always said that he was the one undeserving of his place in this world— of his place beside you. The stronger he grew though, the more you only noticed the opposite.
It was a month after your phone call that you received a small package from Kenya, recognizing the stamp immediately as one of the various animal themed ones Yuta seemed to keep stockpiled just for you. Chewing at your bottom lip, a sense of guilt washed over you, knowing you hadn’t been keeping up with him as much as you once did. Despite this, he continued to try, desperate to get through to you somehow before you slipped from between his fingers all together.
Ripping open the orange, padded envelope, you overturned the contents onto your bed. The wooden beads of a bracelet clacked softly against one another as they fell upon the comforter, a letter landing gently atop it. You ran your fingers along the thin bracelet, thinking maybe if you concentrated long enough, you’d be able to feel the warmth of his fingers lingering from when he’d carefully placed it into the envelope for you. You picked up the accompanying letter.
Dear Y/N,
It seems like they’ve been keeping you really busy over there in your corner of the world! I had so much I wanted to tell you, but I thought maybe it’d be best to put it all into a letter so you could read it at a time that’s best for you.
Gojo-Sensei says that I’ll probably be coming back soon, maybe in the next couple of months even. If all goes well, I hope to be joining everyone for our final year. It’d be nice to all be together again. It’d be nice to actually see you again.
You don’t have to tell me everything, but I know you’ve been going through a hard time recently, and I’m sorry I’m not there to help you. You were wrong the other night on the phone— you are stronger than you think. This life isn’t easy, and I don’t want you to feel like you’re not fit for it just because it hurts you right now.
When I felt I had no strength left in me to keep going, it was you who lent me some of yours until I could stand again. I’m sending it back to you now, so please use it to keep moving forward until I can lend you some of mine. Please, keep waiting for me.
The beads on the bracelet I sent you represent all the things I wish for you. The red represent bravery and strength, the kind I know you have in you still. Until you find them though, let these be a reminder. The yellow are for growth, and until you can see it coming your way, let these motivate you.
I got one just like it for myself, so I can be reminded everyday of the things I love about you. I’ll keep it on me always, and I hope as you’re waiting that you’ll do the same.
Still yours,
Yuta.
Tears were streaming freely down your cheeks and staining the precious letter before you. With wobbling lips, you bit back a quiet sob as you carefully slipped the thin bracelet onto your wrist. Strength. Bravery. Growth. They were all pillars that seemed so far away from you, but Yuta was convinced you held them just within your grasp. If anything, the beads would serve as a reminder that someone important was counting on you, and you’d rather suffer the uphill battle than disappoint him.
The next morning, you woke early to speak with Gojo. He was lounging lazily in his large, plush chair, laptop sat carelessly on his lap when you came in. As if expecting you all along, he looked up from his bored typing to offer a sly smile— the type that told you he was always steps ahead of you.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Gojo greeted, closing his laptop and setting it haphazardly on his desk. Leaning back, he laced his fingers casually in his lap, jutting his chin toward the seat in front of him.
Hesitantly, you sat down. Your posture was rigid as you stared back at his half-covered face. Although your sensei had never given you a reason to fear him, you couldn’t help but feel anxious at the thought of how he might react to your request.
“I… I don’t know how to say this.”
He stayed silent, allowing you to collect your thoughts. The small smile tugging at his lips said he already knew what was plaguing your mind. Fiddling with the bracelet on your wrist, you were reminded of the importance that you stand your ground here.
“I’m not sure I’m cut out for being a sorcerer.” It was out there, and it hung heavily in the air around you. Looking down at your twiddling fingers, you felt that familiar lump building in your throat. Your sensei was silent before you. Glancing up at him through tear soaked eyes, you shrugged your shoulders in defeat. “I’m not like the others. I can’t bounce back like they do. It scares me; the death, the fighting, the loss— it terrifies me, Gojo. I can’t do it anymore. I-I just—”
“You’ve been struggling for a while now, haven’t you?” It was more of a statement than a question— an observation he’d been holding onto for some time. The older man wasn’t oblivious, he could see when his students were beginning to slip away; physically and mentally.
“How did you know?” You briefly wondered if Yuta had mentioned something to him during their regular check in calls, but you doubted it.
Standing abruptly from his chair, he strolled leisurely around the room, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.
“You remind me of someone, is all.” Gojo’s cryptic message left more questions than answers. Though you had grown used to his dodgy answers and coded messages, now was really not the time. Before you could express your annoyance, he continued. “You’re not stuck, you know.”
Your mouth hung open as you stared at him in disbelief. Standing up to face him as he stared out the window, your mind was racing at the possibilities.
“You mean— I could leave? Just like that?”
“Just like that. I’d talk to the higher ups today for you if that’s really what you want.” Still, the edge in his tone indicated that he wasn’t about to let you off that easily. As if sensing your apprehension, he tilted his head playfully toward you, a fond smile on his face. “I’ve seen what this gig can do to people. I don’t need to see you fall victim to it too.”
“I mean— I…” You were stumbling over your words. For the past few years, you were sure that your future was set for you— one you were apprehensive about living, but one that was secure nonetheless. Where would you go from here?
Gojo hummed pensively— invitingly. God, how you wished he would just spit out what he clearly wanted so desperately to say. Of course, he always wanted his students to come to their own conclusions, set their own fates.
“The Night Parade of a Hundred Demons.” The sensei announced dramatically, taking another lap around the room. You shivered at the mention of that night. He leaned toward you with a raised brow. “That’s when this all started, am I right? You almost died, if I remember correctly.”
“I would have if it hadn’t been for—”
“Yuta Okkotsu.” He cut you off, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips, and for a moment you thought you saw his head tilt down as if to look at the bracelet you were currently rolling between your fingers. Nodding softly, he continued. “Still, you cut it pretty close. Must have been traumatizing. Partially lost your sight, almost lost your friends, your life.”
You nodded silently, unsure of where he was going with this long winded rant. Of course, him giving you a simple out was just too easy for Gojo-Sensei’s ‘everything is a life lesson’ style of teaching.
“Tell you what, why don’t I set up a meeting for you to meet with a counselor? Someone who specializes in all our creepy-crawly problems?”
“Like… like therapy?” You questioned with furrowed brows. A therapist for sorcerers? You didn’t even know such a thing existed. Still, the prospect sparked a certain hope in your chest, one that the six eyes saw instantly. He didn’t bother to conceal his victorious smile.
“Yup. Nice, comfy couch and everything.” He advertised as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. His long fingers began typing purposefully against the screen before he looked up at you again. “Of course, she’s kind of running a one-man show, so her schedule is pretty tight. I can pull a few strings for you though.” His words rang in your mind with a faint echo. That suggestive, underlying tone in his voice, it was beginning to seep through, and your gut was telling you his suggestion was a lot more calculated than you would ever give him credit for. “That kind of work is in high demand, you know— what with all the new curses popping up since Itadori came along.”
Gojo was continuing to drop hints, but you had already heard him loud and clear. This was something he thought you could do— somewhere he knew you would fit within this hectic world. As a teacher, it was his job to train the up and coming sorcerers for the perils that lay ahead of them. In the same prospect though, he had also become incredibly adept at discovering their potential and nudging them toward it— even if it wasn’t as gently as he thought.
The following week you met with the therapist Gojo had supposedly pulled so many strings to get you in to see. She had a small office just minutes away from the school, and you wondered why she wasn’t on campus. She hadn’t suggested it to you first, though she was well aware of what Gojo was trying to do when he set up this meeting.
So, amidst your explanation of everything you had been experiencing since that night, you dropped in questions. How did she know this was the right path for her— how closely did she work with Jujutsu High— how did she get where she was?
By the gentle and encouraging manner in which she answered all of your questions, you had a gut feeling once again that Gojo had already been three steps ahead of you. You were set to transfer out of Jujutsu High the following week.
Your sensei funded your education through an outside university, who’s higher ups had connections with the school. Kaori, the god-sent sorcerer counselor who’d seemingly fallen from the heavens right when you needed her, was more than happy to take you under her wing as well. In truth, she was relieved to have some help around the office given the influx of referrals she’d been receiving recently.
Everything had been falling into place, yet there was still one last loose end you had yet to tie up from your life as a sorcerer. You looked down at the box of letters you’d kept over the past year or so from Yuta.
Following his last letter, and how determined he seemed to be that you would make it as a sorcerer— you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that you had given up. After everything he’d done to grow himself into the man he was now, a fearless and loyal sword to his friends and the innocent— and you had given up. In the end, despite his insistence that it was him not worthy enough to stick around, you realized it had been you all along.
You weren’t worthy of Yuta Okkotsu.
Your trembling finger hovered over his contact, but you couldn’t do it. Clicking your phone off, you stared up at the ceiling of your now empty dorm room and allowed the hot tears to burn your cheeks, dripping down your neck and into the hem of your shirt. He was still finishing up his training, growing into a man he could be proud of, experiencing the things that made him feel alive. It would be selfish of you to drop this on him now.
Setting down the box on your desk, you pulled out a spare sheet of paper and sat down to draft your last prose to Yuta Okkotsu.
Dear Yuta,
By the time you’re reading this, I’m sure you will have already heard about my departure from Jujutsu High. I wanted to call you and tell you everything that’s been on my mind, to give you a proper goodbye, but I didn’t want to interrupt your progress overseas.
I wanted to thank you for the kindness you’ve shown me over the years. I’ll cherish each bit of it as long as I live. You kept me holding on through my lowest points, even if it wasn’t the life of sorcery that I was holding onto.
I know I’m cowardly, but I just couldn’t look you in the eyes and tell you that I had given up. You’ve worked so hard and sacrificed so much to hold your place here, and I suppose a part of me feels foolish for giving mine up so easily.
Your passion for undoing the wrongs in this world is so beautiful, and although I couldn’t share it with you, it only ever made me love you more. Please never take it for granted. Continue to fight to hold your place here, because you hold more power than you could ever come to know. I can feel it, even when you’re not here.
I’m sorry that I couldn’t wait for you.
Forever yours,
Y/N
When Yuta Okkotsu arrived back at Jujutsu High three months later, he had already been sitting on the news of your departure for two weeks. His friends thought it best to at least prepare him for when he returned, but he figured so much when you stopped responding to his calls and messages. No amount of preparation could have stopped the hole from opening up in his chest upon reading the letter you’d left in his dorm room. It sat neatly on his untouched pillow— a ghost that haunted him the second he stepped in.
He tried with fervor to be excited for his return, smiling along half heartedly when his friends shoved a party hat on his head and insisted upon celebrating all the birthdays they’d missed. Those haunting blue eyes only stared lifelessly at the cake before him, his soul still sat on the edge of his bed where he’d read your letter.
Forever yours.
Yuta wondered if those simple two words meant the door was open for him to swing in and come find you as he so ardently promised he would. Gojo-Sensei said you were happy though— working toward your place in the world. It was one he no longer felt he had a place in— not when his life consisted so wholly of the very things you were running from.
Months passed, and the both of you tried so desperately to move on. Despite being content in the roots your lives had sprouted, there was always a missing piece that stopped the both of you from blossoming. You always held your breath in hopes he’d come back to you like he said he would, and he always hoped you were still waiting for him despite his insistence that you were happier without him. The both of you were only kids when you’d carelessly thrown out such a vow, after all.
Gojo felt whole-heartedly confident in his whim to have Kaori train you. There was a spark in you, one that wanted to heal those that this world had so carelessly wounded, even if that meant you having to heal yourself first. In the end, it was the right decision, and he prided himself in the fact that there was a happy medium to keep your talents within the jujutsu world still while also fulfilling your purpose. There was a missing piece of the puzzle that lingered ever present though, and that was the infuriating case of you and Yuta Okkotsu.
It was getting depressing— watching the boy mope around pretending to not have the very obvious chip on his shoulder all the damn time. Your old sensei still kept up with you and your progress often, seeing as the school worked closely with Kaori to refer in need sorcerers on a regular basis.
Each time he’d pop in for a visit or called unexpectedly, you’d always ask how everyone back at the school was doing. Sure, you really did hope your old friends were doing okay, but you were really holding your breath for when he’d mention Yuta. Gojo always spoke of him so highly, and you couldn’t help but smile fondly each time, thinking of how proud you were at how much he’d accomplished— just as he said he would. Still, the six eyes never missed that morose glimmer in your eye as you’d nod along to his stories.
“Have you ever tried sleeping at night, or are those dark circles just a part of you now?”
Yuta was snapped from his stupor when his sensei dropped unceremoniously beside him as he looked on at his friends ahead of him. As if having just been reminded of his perpetual exhaustion, he reached up subconsciously to rub at those aforementioned dark eyes.
“Oh, haha,” Yuta’s halfhearted attempt at a laugh only served to drive Gojo’s purpose right home. “Yeah, guess my sleep schedule never really adjusted back to normal, huh?”
“You aren’t performing like you should be, Okkotsu.”
He gaped exasperatedly at his sensei, blinking a few times as if maybe he just hadn’t heard him correctly. Frankly, he had been kicking ass lately, and everyone around him knew it too. Still, if Gojo-Sensei was telling him he was falling behind, it was seemingly the only opinion that mattered. Even if it wore him down till only his skeleton remained, he would keep getting better until he could prove himself to the man who took a chance on him.
Already picking up on the look of determination on the boy’s face, Gojo put out a solemn ‘slow your roll’ hand in front of him. Sighing in amusement, the sensei thought the boy would crush a semi-truck between his hands if it’d make him grow— meant he could prove himself.
“Your mind isn’t here. Hasn’t been since you got back. I can tell, you know.”
Okkotsu’s shoulders slumped dejectedly. No matter how much he worked to train physically, to learn to control his cursed energy and techniques, there was always that one lingering barrier that seemed to keep him from reaching his potential. Of course, he knew he had been more distracted since your departure, but he figured— hoped— it would pass eventually. He thought maybe if he ignored it long enough, pushed down that frenzy to rip his hair out by the roots and bellow out every frustration he’d held in for allowing you to slip away, each day as the urge melted away into dreams of you at night that woke him with a crater in his chest— maybe eventually it would fade just as you did.
“Try to get some rest, clear your mind. Do what you gotta do.” Gojo emphasized, leaning down to tower over his apprehensive prodigy with a knowing smile. His covered eyes flicked down to where Yuta’s fingers were rolling the beads of his colorful bracelet pensively. He hummed in amusement. “You know, I know someone who has that same bracelet.”
His student perked up ever so subtly upon hearing this. The prying man quickly moved to grasp his wrist and inspect the bracelet closer. It made Yuta feel exposed, wanting to crawl under his covers and not come out again if it meant no one else would lay their eyes on the one connection he still had to you. Gulping thickly, he snatched his wrist back, covering the wooden jewelry protectively under his other hand.
“Oh, you know her, don’t you?” Satoru feigned remembrance, snapping his fingers dramatically. “She used to go here.”
The stunned boy stammered out your name in question. It still felt so natural, so effortless rolling off of his tongue despite the prolonged period that had passed since he’d uttered those syllables.
“Yeah! Saw it on her just last week.”
All the blood seemed to drain from Yuta Okkotsu’s face. His wide, haunting eyes suddenly transfixed hazily on the smiling man before him in a manner that would have been terrifying had it been directed at a stranger. You still wore the bracelet he got you? The prospect had his mind spinning, and his stomach churning anxiously. The poor guy looked as though he would short circuit at any moment; brows twitching into a deep furrow, the corners of his lips fluttering in uncertainty. He blinked a few times before looking up at his sensei with a new sense of determination clouding his eyes.
“Where did you say she went?”
Bingo!
The clock’s ticking mocked you menacing as you raced to finish your assessment notes within the hour. Kaori was always merciful with you, understanding that you were still learning and would likely take more time with things, but you couldn’t help but urge yourself to do better.
It had been almost a year that you had been studying while working alongside the counselor, and you had blossomed in a way you never thought would have been possible. Granted, you weren’t able to do any of what you had lovingly labeled as ‘the fun stuff’ yet, you had adjusted surprisingly well to the countless intake assessments and documentation your mentor had entrusted you with. Of course, it wasn’t the same as having a second counselor there with her, but anything helped ease the weight of her overwhelming caseload. She knew it was good experience for you too.
Despite her hectic schedule, Kaori still found time to meet with you often to check in regarding the struggles that brought you to her in the first place, insisting it would be a crucial step in your training as well. Slowly but surely, you were beginning to rebuild that confidence in yourself and your own purpose in this monstrous world. It felt cathartic, being a part of the process of healing for those torn down by the very things that hurt you so long ago as well. It was meaningful— fulfilling.
You wondered if this was how Yuta felt when he was out there, helping people as well, just in his own way. A sharp pang struck you each time your mind wandered too far though, and you were always quick to reel it back in.
Your bottom lip was caught ruthlessly between your teeth, and it seemed the clacking of your keyboard was fighting against the ticking of the clock for dominance. A small spark of defeat struck you as you heard the door of the office creak open. Looking up at the time, your brows furrowed in confusion. You were sure that you had already completed the last intake Kaori had scheduled for you today. Scrambling into the drawer beside you to pull out a new form, you hoped you would at least look somewhat prepared whenever the unexpected patient came to your desk.
“Hi, there!” You called out from your tucked away cubicle, fumbling to save the document you were working on. “I’m back here, you can come on in.”
Slow footsteps approached closer and closer before pausing in front of your desk. Pushing the hair from your eyes, you looked up with a warm, inviting smile.
Oh.
The smile on your face slowly faded as Yuta Okkotsu towered over your desk. It wasn’t the version of him you once knew; this one was taller, more refined, more calculated with the manner in which he held himself. His wide, midnight-blue eyes regarded you carefully, but his face revealed nothing. Your mouth opened and closed pathetically, your mind desperately trying to catch up with the way your day had suddenly progressed. Stepping forward, he calmly sank down into the chair in front of you, hands gripping the arms casually.
“Yu—”
“I heard you offer counseling for sorcerers, right?” He was suddenly smiling sweetly at you, but there was a controlled glint in his eyes— holding him back. Not allowing you to respond, he continued. “Well, I have some things to get off my chest, so it’s lucky I found you, huh?”
You sank back into your chair, allowing the papers in your hands to slip from your fingers and swoosh softly onto the desk. Nodding gently, you urged him to go on, anxiety balling up in the pit of your stomach. He launched off on a long-winded story, one you already knew like the back of your hand— you lived it, after all. Your already knowing the climax didn’t stop the furious blush that overtook you as he recalled the letter he’d found in his dorm upon his arrival back to Tokyo.
“She always had this sweet way of signing off all her letters to me.” Yuta recounted with a soft smile, eyes glimmering as they looked back at you. Yours, on the other hand, were holding back the dam of tears that had been building up for countless months. As the first tear slipped down your cheek, you saw his resolve start to crumble, gaze chasing the drop as it raced down your skin. His bottom lip trembled. “She signed that last one— she signed it off ‘forever yours’, but I never saw her again.”
“Yuta—”
“Why didn’t you just tell me you weren’t happy?” He finally snapped, his own tears swimming in his eyes. Bracing his hands on the desk, he leaned forward desperately. “I would’ve understood, I would’ve—”
“I tried! I tried to tell you, but you were so sure that I was going to get through it. How was I supposed to look you in the eyes after you gave up so much of your life to train to be better? How was I supposed to tell you I was giving up?”
“You promised me!” His cry rang out in the quiet office, shoving his chair back to stand over you once again. You heard Kaori’s office door open abruptly, likely startled by the perceived altercation. Despite his dominating presence and lingering stance, you couldn’t find it in you to be intimidated by him. You shook your head softly toward your mentor, letting her know you were fine. As the door hesitantly shut once again, Yuta was sinking closer to you despairingly. “I would’ve come back for you— I wouldn’t have cared where I had to look, okay? I wouldn’t have cared that you left everything— but you weren’t supposed to leave me.”
His wounded tone finally caught up to you, and you let your head fall down onto your crumpled hands as you cried. Yuta sighed softly, almost regretting his stinging confession. Quickly looping around the desk, he settled down on his knees in front of you and turned you to face him.
“I’m sorry, Yuta.” You cried, falling into him as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you from your chair. He was stronger than you last remembered him being, but his touch was just as delicate. “I’m so sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. Hey, it’s okay. We’re here now, right?” He assured gently, pulling you away from his chest so he could look at you with a smile, tears still clinging to his lashes. His cool hand ran down from your shoulder to your wrist, and he traced the bracelet that hadn’t come off your wrist since you received it. A soft flush covered his cheeks. “You kept it, huh?”
“You kept yours, too.” You laughed breathlessly, wiping at your cheeks with one hand and grasping his bracelet with the other.
“I told you, I always meant everything I said to you. I still do.” His words almost made you break down again, but you worried if you started boo-hoo crying again that Kaori might just burst through the door with more determination than she had last time.
So instead, you took a moment to glance over his matured face, shaking your head in amusement upon seeing those familiar dark circles still hanging under his eyes. Your heart clenched as your eyes ran across the small scar that Maki left on his forehead. When you met his gaze once again, it gave you pause. Yuta had that look in his eyes— the same one he had all those years ago before he left for Kenya. The rapid patter of your heart could be felt in your throat.
Despite your nerves, your lips twitched up into a knowing smile. You reached up tentatively to place a hand over your right eye, covering the scar that had stopped him all those years ago. He pursed his lips at this action and shook his head. In an instant, his long fingers were wrapping around your wrist to pull your hand away from your face.
“Don’t.” Yuta said simply before leaning down to capture your lips in his, more assuredly than his sixteen year old self ever could have dared to, but just as sweetly as the boy who promised to come back to you would have.
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Sweeter Than Revenge Part 7
Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader, Scott's Sister!reader Summary: After you kissed Tyler on his livestream, things between the two of you only continue to develop. Word Count: 3169 TW: Flirting, Kissing, Developing Feelings, Language Notes: A massive thank you to @blue-aconite and @green-socks for reading this over for me and for all the constant support! And to @mayhem24-7forever for always answering my late-night panicked messages
Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)
Series Masterlist
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You weren’t sure how long you and Tyler remained seated in the front of his truck with your lips pressed against each other, but far sooner than you would have liked, you heard Boone shouting from outside, “Hey, love birds! You’ll wanna see this!”
Reluctantly, you broke away from Tyler, both of you panting slightly as you gazed at each other. Then he winked before undoing his harness and climbing out of the truck. You took a deep breath, unhooked your own harness (after a momentary struggle), and opened the truck door.
The winds still rustled gently over the field as you eased out of the truck, your feet standing on the running board as you leaned against the door. About 100 yards in front of you, the tornado continued to twist and twirl through the grass as it made its way away from the truck. Now that your initial fear of driving into it had passed, you were really able to appreciate the magnificence and raw power of the towering wall of wind. It truly was a wonder of nature and you understood why people came from all over just to experience this moment.
You, Tyler, and Boone continued to watch the storm until it began to collapse several minutes later. The death of the tornado was in some ways just as beautiful as the raging storm itself. And as the last of the funnel disappeared, leaving nothing but dark clouds and a band of rain where it had once stood, it felt like a spell was broken as the world around you exhaled.
Looking at you from the other side of the truck, Tyler grinned. “Well, sweetheart, what did you think?”
“That was fucking amazing!” you cried as you jumped down from the truck. “It was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced in my life! Oh my god, Tyler, thank you!” 
As you reached him, you threw yourself into his arms, squeezing him tightly and burying your face in his neck. He laughed as he twirled you around and you could feel his heart racing in his chest, fueled by the same adrenaline that was flooding your system. 
When he stopped, you lifted your head. He was staring right at you, his green eyes sparkling like the stars he had shown you the night you met, his smile so wide that his dimples were on full display. You had never seen someone so breathtaking and full of life before. It was intoxicating.
He must have been thinking the same thing about you.
Tracing his fingers down the side of your face, he murmured, “What are you thanking me for? Chasing the storm…or the kiss?”
You licked your lips as you stared at his and whispered, “Both.”
“Good.” Tyler bent his head down until his mouth just barely hovered over yours. “As long as there’s no regrets.”
“Just that we waited so long to do this.” And you pressed your lips against his. 
You were still kissing when you heard several vehicles pull up beside you. You looked up to see Dani, Dexter, and Lily leaning out their windows, cheering and catcalling as they watched you and Tyler. 
Tyler took a step towards them, his hands raised, “All right, all right. Y’all had your fun.”
“Looks like you two did too,” Dani smirked as she held up a tablet and hopped out of her van. 
“I’m sorry we kind of ruined your video,” you said, sinking sheepishly into yourself.
“Ruined it?” Dexter chuckled. “We already have more views after twenty minutes than most of our videos get after being posted for a month.”
“Really?” You reached out to take the tablet from Dani so you could look, but she drew it into her chest.
“Um…you might not want to look at the comments.”
Your smile evaporated as you looked around at each of the Wranglers. “Oh. But I thought you said…”
Lily hesitated, fiddling with the goggles she just pulled off her head. “They liked the video but some people are just a little…” She hesitated as she struggled to find the right word.
Dani snorted, “They’re jealous. Tyler’s fangirls weren’t too happy seeing him swapping spit with the pretty new girl while they had to just sit there and watch.”
“Oh,” you blinked. That was not the answer you had been expecting.
Tyler placed his hand gently on the back of your arm. “We can go through and delete those comments and make sure everyone knows we don’t stand for that kind of stuff on our page.”
You shrugged. “Let ‘em talk.”
“Really?” Tyler asked, his brow furrowing under the brim of his cowboy hat. 
“Yeah,” you grinned. “If the cost of me getting to do this is a little online hate, I’ll gladly pay that price.” Then you planted another big kiss on his lips. 
Tyler wrapped himself around your waist and the next thing you knew, he dipped you backward, his muscular arms the only thing keeping you from crashing to the ground. It felt like a scene straight out of a romance novel. The Cowboy and the College Girl. 
Yet this was better than any romance novel because it was real. Tyler was real and he was kissing you and it was everything you had wanted since he drew you into his chest as you cried under the stars in the back of his truck the night you met. And you never wanted it to end.
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Everyone was hungry after the morning of excitement so Dexter ducked into the camper van and reappeared several minutes later with a plate of sandwiches and individual bags of chips. Everyone else grabbed folding chairs from their vehicles, but Tyler lowered the tailgate of his truck, sat on the edge, and pulled you into his lap. You were a little uncomfortable at first, being so brazen in front of the rest of the crew, but you quickly settled back against his chest as you ate. Already, you felt like you just fit perfectly in his arms and you couldn’t stop the smile from stretching across your face as you chewed.
The other Wranglers exchanged a few looks and soft snickers, but they didn’t say anything. It was only as everyone was finishing up, that Boone addressed the elephant in the field. 
“So, is this gonna be a thing now?”
“Boone—” Tyler’s voice had a slight warning edge.
His friend held up his hands. “I don’t mean nothing by it, I’m just wondering.”
Before Tyler could answer, you leaned back so you could look at him directly. “You know, I’d like to know the answer to that too.”
There were a few ‘ooo’s’ from Dani and Lily, but Tyler ignored them. Holding your gaze, his green eyes shining with open sincerity, he said, “How about I like you a lot and am excited to get to see where this goes?”
“Yeah, I’m good with that.” He leaned down and gently kissed you on the lips. When he sat back up, you smiled. “You know, I’ve never been with a Southern cowboy before. It’s already been such a big change having a guy come pick me up each morning or walk me to my room every night.” Nudging his side, you added, “You might regret that because I’m starting to expect it.”
He grinned, his dimples on full display, and dipped his head. “Yes, ma’am.”
You settled back, snuggling into him as his arms tightened around you. 
“Aww!” Lily said. “You two are so cute together!”
“Yeah, just be careful you don't invite him in when he walks you to your room,” Dani teased.
Tyler rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up.”
Everyone else started laughing but you had clearly missed something. “Um, why shouldn't I do that?”
Tyler sighed. “It’s nothing. They're all just idiots.”
Boone grinned at his friend’s annoyance. “Tyler said back in his rodeo days, the whole circuit traveled all over the country for competitions, staying in cheap motels like we do now.”
Dani leaned on Boone’s shoulder and picked up his story. “And whenever they’d hire a new girl to travel with ‘em, they’d warn her ‘don’t invite one of the cowboys into your room unless you plan on him spending the night’.”
“I never should have told y’all about that,” Tyler grumbled under his breath. Louder, he said, “It’s been a running joke since then. Even though it’s not true—” he shot Boone and Dani a sharp glare, and they held up their hands “—they never let me forget it. But I’m perfectly capable of going into a person’s room at night and leaving before the next morning.”
“Oh, so you’re love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of guy,” Dani said, nodding. “Nice.”
“Fuck you,” Tyler growled, tensing beneath you. It was obvious Dani was just teasing, but you had gotten to know Tyler well enough to know respect and courtesy meant a lot to him. And even just the insinuation that he might not treat you the way you ought to be treated hit a nerve. 
Placing one hand on his thigh, you gave it a tight squeeze. His face had lost all of the happiness it had just a moment ago, but you gave him a warm smile, hopefully reassuring him you knew the kind of man he was. 
Then, you turned back to the rest of the Wranglers. Popping a chip into your mouth, you asked, “So…any of you ever invite Tyler in just to test out that theory?”
Everyone was quiet for a moment. Then Lily spoke up. “No…but he does share a room with Boone.”
Boone’s head shot up at the sound of his name. He had started fiddling with his camera when things got tense between Dani and Tyler, so he blinked, clearly trying to figure out what he had missed. Then, with a huge smile, he exclaimed, “Oh yeah! Ty and I always share a room. Sleeping with a friend is much better than sleeping alone.”
There was a pause before everyone burst out laughing. Boone looked around, not quite understanding the joke. As the conversation shifted into poking fun at Boone and the other Wranglers’ sleeping arrangements, Tyler pressed his lips into your hair, just above your ear, and whispered, “Thank you.” 
You could already feel the tension easing out of him and you squeezed his leg again in acknowledgement. After all the times you had leaned on Tyler for support in the last few days, it felt nice to actually be able to do something for him for a change. 
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The rest of the afternoon, you rode next to Tyler as the crew looked for another storm to chase. Boone had made some excuse about needing to talk to Lily about the quality of their live stream so he rode in her van. You weren't sure whether that was his idea or Tyler’s, but you weren’t complaining about having a bit of alone time with the lead Tornado Wrangler. 
It seemed now that the line had been crossed, neither of you could keep your hands to yourselves. The confined space of the truck cabin along with the restrictive nature of your seat belts limited your methods of contact but you still found ways around those obstacles: While Tyler told you about growing up in Texas, you nodded along as you trailed your fingers through his hair. While you explained what you were going to school for and what you wanted to do after graduation, he smiled and played with the strap of your tank top. While you both discussed your favorite movies and music, your hands were linked across the center console. 
By the time Tyler pulled into a motel for the night, your body was aching for more of him. At one point, you had to force yourself not to squeeze your legs together or let out a soft moan as he rested his hand on your bare thigh just below the frayed cutoff bottoms of your shorts. Yet you couldn’t stop your toes from curling in your boots as he began absentmindedly rubbing his thumb in circles over your skin. As soon as you got the key to your room, you were going to have to take a very lengthy cold shower.
But it wasn’t just the physical moments that had your heart racing as you climbed out of the truck. There was never a moment of awkward silence or uncomfortableness, just effortless, engaging conversation and laughter. You had learned so much more about the cowboy and every little new thing just made you like him all the more. 
After Tyler helped you out of the truck, he left to book the rooms for the night. You unloaded a few of the bags out of the back—including your own—and looked around. Strangely, you didn’t see the faintest trace of Storm PAR. None of their vehicles were in the parking lot and you couldn’t spot a single one of their signature polos mingling around in the crowd of people settling in after the day of chasing. 
Hopefully something hadn’t happened in the field today…
“Hey.” You turned to see Lily approaching, holding out a piece of paper folded into a small square. “I saw Javi when we stopped for gas. He asked me to give this to you. Said Storm PAR is staying on the other end of town tonight.”
Think of the devil… You took the paper from her. “Did he say why?”
“No, but I sort of got the impression he was in a hurry to get back to his truck so I didn’t ask.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
As Lily walked away, you opened the note. The handwriting was a bit sloppy and hard to decipher, almost as if it were scrawled in a hurry, but you read:
He’ll deny it, but Scott watched today. Might want to keep your distance for a while.
You smiled as you reread it. Yeah, Scott probably wasn’t too happy to see you locking lips with Tyler and you were sure to get an earful about that at some point, but Scott had watched the stream. Maybe it was just so he could say he told you so and rub it in everyone’s face if you chickened out, but you couldn’t help but think—hope—that he might have been watching because he was worried for your safety. Could it be that your big brother cared about you after all?
“What’s got you so smiley?” 
You looked up and held out the note for Tyler to see as he got closer. “You might want to avoid my brother for a few days. Seems he caught our little make-out session this morning and I have a feeling if he didn’t hate you before, he does now.”
“I’m not worried. I can handle Scotty.” He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in, twisting you so your back pressed against his chest. Then he rested his chin on your shoulder. “But how are you feeling about him seeing that?”
“I’m…good. When I first got here and came up with this stupid plan, I would have been thrilled that he saw us. I would have tracked him down and rubbed it in his face just to see his blood boil. But now—” you tilted your head and nuzzled it against Tyler’s “—I don’t care what he thinks or how he’s reacting. I don’t want to waste any more of my energy on him. I just want to focus on us.”
“Hmmm,” Tyler hummed, the sound vibrating through your body. “‘Us’. I like the sound of that.”
“Not too presumptuous?”
“Not at all,” he said, tightening his arms around your waist. “I’d be more than happy to be part of an us with you.” 
The two of you remained standing by Tyler’s truck, swaying gently wrapped in each other’s arms for several minutes. You would have stayed there all night if you could, but the adrenaline of the day began wearing off and you struggled to keep your eyes open. Reluctantly, you whispered, “I think I should be heading to my room.”
Tyler nodded against you. “Would you like an escort?”
“Always.”
He gave you one final squeeze before releasing you. Then he grabbed your backpack from where you had tossed it on the ground earlier, and he threw his other arm across your shoulders. Walking with your head resting on his chest, the two of you made your way across the parking lot and up the stairs to your room. It was becoming a familiar routine but this time the walk seemed too short and, in no time, you were standing in front of your door. 
You opened it and turned to face Tyler. “Thank you for everything today. The storm a-and us.”
He reached out and brushed his thumb across your cheekbone. “I’m just sorry I waited. I shoulda kissed you the first night after I walked you to your room or when we were lying in the back of my truck. I knew then that I wanted there to be an us.”
“Me too.” Pressing your forehead against his, your eyes fluttered closed as you whispered, “Why does it feel like I’ve known you for years when it’s only been three days?”
He hummed back, “I don’t know, but I feel it too. Like...you’ve always been here with me. Is that crazy?”
“No. It’s a bit sappy but also romantic as fuck.” 
Tyler snorted, the brief burst of air tickling your nose. Then he whispered, “I should go.”
You nodded, opening your eyes. You didn’t want him to leave but the intensity and speed at which your feelings for him were developing almost scared you and you knew inviting him to stay was not what was best for either of you right now.
Yet as he reached for your hand, you pulled it away. With a sly smile, you said, “Uh uh. Tonight, I want a real kiss goodnight.”
Tyler grinned, flashing his dimples. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.” 
Wrapping his hand around the back of your neck, he pulled you into his lips. Though the two of you had been kissing throughout the day, none of them had been like this. There was a heat, a fire burning under his skin that had never been there before. He pressed into you, his body flush against yours, and you couldn’t hold back as you moaned into his mouth. All of the need you had been feeling in his truck came rushing back, and you could feel the tension already building in your core. 
But just as you began maneuvering so you could grind against his thigh, Tyler pulled back. You gasped at the sudden loss and looked at him, mouth agape. He just smiled and whispered, “Think of me tonight, sweetheart. I know I’ll be thinking of you.” Then, he was gone.
For the third night in a row, you went to bed cursing that son of a bitch who was quickly stealing your heart.  
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Part 8 coming 9/30!
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maespri · 2 days
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oh my i never really saw myself making a post like this, but i really wanna talk about morgana! more specifically… why i don’t really understand the hate he receives.
for starters, i know a lot of people dislike mona because he gets on ryuji’s case often. his squabbling with ryuji can get hurtful at times too, i know, but i feel like so many people conveniently leave out the fact that… ryuji returns fire? it’s not as though mona is constantly attacking poor ryuji who can’t defend himself; it’s a two-sided fight throughout most of the game. both of them are constantly fueling the fire. not to mention, it’s a fight that eventually ends. both individuals have great character development (i could talk about it for /ages/, but i digress) that ends with their fighting essentially ceasing entirely. they’re both dumb teenage boys, they both said dumb stuff to each other, and they both hurt each other, and all of that is recognized and left in the past.
the hatred toward mona in general is something i struggle to understand entirely. you hate this cat because he tells you to go to bed? the game would have told you to do that one way or another, because it’s a game. there have to be constraints, or you’d get terribly overpowered incredibly fast. i wholeheartedly agree that mona’s lacking in comparison to the other characters in many ways- but i’ve never hated him, and was surprised to see a lot of people did.
maybe i’m just weirdly empathetic toward fictional characters, but i really liked his storyline. mona’s been with the protagonist since day one, helping him out, staying with him, encouraging and supporting him in everything he does, navigating them through mementos and palaces and battles… and he’s never really appreciated for any of it. obviously, the other phantom thieves do the same and don’t require any extra praise, but morgana already has a complex stemming from the fact that he’s not human. inherently, he believes he’s not nearly as good as any of the others, and subsequently, that he isn’t good enough in general- and he’s so ashamed of that that he can’t even voice the concern to the protagonist pre-okumura’s palace. it made sense to me when he snapped and ran away; if you were constantly the black sheep of a group, unable to engage with anyone unless the guy you live with is always there as well, wouldn’t you yearn for autonomy too? (don’t even get me started on the haru parallels there; there’s a reason morgana snapped during the okumura arc.) if you felt expendable and there wasn’t ever an effort made to prove otherwise, purposeful or not, wouldn’t you also want to leave? to spare both yourself, and the people you’re leaving? i really liked his arc because it led to two realizations- that he was pivotal to the group, and it was fine if he ended up not being a human. (and honestly, he was pivotal to my group… who else would i use to heal everyone outside of battle…!)
anyway, his objectification of women was weird. didn’t like that. but this is a JRPG, and he’s not the only one who does strange things like that at times (why was ryuji looking at ann’s chest in the mona bus outside futaba’s palace man…). honestly, his flirting was also weird at times, but as long as it never got strangely sexual, i didn’t really mind? it’s not like it ever genuinely bothers ann either as far as i remember. it’s more just a stupid thing he does.
anyway… i dunno. i like the kitty. he’s silly, he kept me company, and he made my playthrough fun. life is so much more beautiful when you carry love in your heart rather than resentment
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just-dreaming-marvel · 10 hours
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Love That Burns ~ 1
LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST
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Word Count: 1,235ish
Summary: You discover your mutation. You get recruited for a team.
Warnings: death, gun shots, fire, homelessness, nakedness
Notes: Surprise! I couldn't wait until Saturday. Besides, this is more of a prologue chapter than anything. Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don't ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! Also, help me decide the endings!
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It was snowing, but that didn’t matter. Your insides were burning up to the point that you couldn’t stop sweating, soaking through your clothes. There was practically a puddle of sweat beneath you as you pushed yourself further into the corner of your closet.
Your parents were downstairs, having a screaming match. It was their fifth one today. They had been too occupied with their own drama to even notice what was going on with you. A tremor had started in your hands as your fingertips began faintly glowing orange. You placed your hand against the wooden door as you heard the fighting die down. The silence was eery and before you knew it, a gun was going off. You rushed down the stairs, failing to notice the trail of fire being left behind.
Your father was standing above your mother, gun still pointed at her. Your mother was lying on the ground with a bullet in her forehead.
“Go back upstairs, Y/N,” your father demanded, not sparing you a single glance.
“What did you do?” You frantically cried.
“What she had coming,” your father responded. “She wasn’t like us, Y/N. She was— is that smoke?” Your father looked over to see the stairs in flames. “We’ve got to get out of here.” When your father grabbed your arm, only to quickly let it go when his skin burned. “You… You did this!” He pointed the gun at you. “You’re a monster just like her!”
“I— I’m sorry, Dad! I don’t know what’s happening!”
“I do, monster.”
Your father pulled the trigger and your arm came up to try to protect you. Fire shot out of your hand, landing on your father. He screamed out as the fire quickly spread over him. You cried as you watched your father stumble back into the fire engulfing the stairs. 
Yells and screams began cutting through the growing flames as the neighbors gathered outside. Realizing how this could look, you hurried out the back and continued running. What had you done?
~~~
It didn’t take you long to figure out that you had powers of some kind in the form of fire. Now living on the streets, you used your power to keep alive. You discovered your second ability when another homeless person went after you with a knife, cutting your arm. It healed, simply leaving a scar, after a few hours. It was 1965 and you had just turned 35 when you realized that you had stopped aging years ago. This forced you to move around more to keep from being caught.
Coming back from a heist with your bag full, you entered the alley that you were currently calling home. With a slight twitch of your fingers, you lit the trash in the nearby barrel to warm up the alley and provide some light.
“Some power you got there.”
You jumped at the voice, immediately forming flames in your hands. A man stepped out of the shadows, a mischievous glint in his eye.
“Who are you?” You asked.
“Major William Stryker and you are Y/N L/N.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’ve been following you for quite some time.” He sat on a cart next to the barrel. “Tell me, did you mean to start that fire? Or was it a product of what happened to your mother?”
You grit your teeth. “How could you possibly know that?”
“I know things. Like what you are.”
“And?”
“You’re a mutant and someone special. I would like you to come with me. You’ll get training in your abilities and other skills. We could use you on the team I’m putting together.” He could tell you were considering it. “I know that you’ve been on your own and homeless for far too long. You would never have to worry about food, clothes, or a bed again. Not if you’re with me.”
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“You don’t. You’ll just have to come and see.”
You thought about it. This could be your chance to do something more. To learn about your powers and grow them in ways you didn’t think possible. The promise of the basic necessities was also night.
But there was also a chance that the man in front of you was trying to trick you. Taking a breath, you made a decision.
“I’ll go with you.”
~~~
Though the training was hard and the tests they constantly ran on your powers were draining, you never complained. Stryker had held up his end of the promise, providing you with food, clothes, and a place to sleep. He kept talking about his dreams for the team he was putting together and other mutants soon joined.
First, there was Fred Dukes, who possessed super strength and invulnerability. Next, John Wraith, a teleporter, and Chris Bradley or Bolt, who could control electricity. Agent Zero was next as an expert marksman with Wade Wilson, a swordsman who could never shut up, quickly following.
The six of you made an odd bunch and went out on regular missions for Stryker. You never fully understood what the point of these missions where, but you went on them anyway.
“Wade, I will melt those blades if you poke me one more time.”
The team had a day off, meaning that you were stuck in Stryker’s facility for the team until you were needed. The others had decided to plan a game of poker while you decided to read, with Wade choosing to annoy you.
“Where does the fire live?” Wade asked. “Like, is there an ember constantly lit inside of you? And why isn’t your skin hot?”
“Wade…”
“I’m just curious!” He threw his hands up. “Like how does the fire work? Do you— Hey!” Wade’s clothes burned off of him, leaving him naked. “If you wanted to fuck, you could have just asked.”
“Ew,” you cringed, moving away from him.
“Wilson!” John shouted. “Get some clothes on!”
“Why? You jealous?” Wade retorted with a smirk. He stood up and walked over to where the others were sitting. “Take a good look, boys. Take a look and wish you had this body.”
“Wilson!” Stryker exclaimed as he entered the room, with two other men trailing behind him. “Get your clothes on! We have new recruits.”
“Yes, sir,” Wade mock saluted before walking off.
You peeked over your book to get a look at them. Both of the men were muscular and clearly had their walls up. The one with shorter hair seemed more menacing than the man next to him. The man next to him caught your attention more. More emotions were swirling in his eyes. His hair was long, dark, and thick with mutton chops covering his cheeks.
“Sorry, gentlemen,” Stryker apologized. “That was Wade Wilson.” You stood up as Stryker introduced the other members of the team before ending with you. “And this is Y/N L/N.”
“A woman is on this team?” The menacing one scoffed. “No wonder you brought us in.”
“Don’t doubt, Y/N. Her ability to control fire can do more damage than your claws.”
“And you two are?” You questioned, getting annoyed again.
“This is my brother Victor Creed,” the other man introduced. He held out his hand to you. “I’m James. James Logan Howlett.”
You shook his hand briefly. “Nice to meet you, James. Welcome to the team.”
next chapter >
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cakerybakery · 1 day
Text
“This sucks and I hate you.” Adam grumbled from his seat at the meeting table.
“Well, we have that in common.” Lucifer chirped as he bounced in place. He had been sitting for too long and needed some time to move.
Adam smirked behind his mask, “what you hate yourself?”
“Yes!”
“God, you’re pathetic.” Adam rubbed his back and groaned, “I don’t know how bitches do this all day.” He put a hand on the bulge under his robe and used the arm of his chair to try and help himself up. He didn’t go far and Lucifer sprung over to help him up.
“She’s getting pretty big.” Lucifer patted the bulge. “Not long until she hatches now.”
“He, and no. Sera said another week and he’ll hatch.” He nodded his thanks for the hand up. “I can’t wait to stop carrying him around. This egg is getting heavy. I’d kill for you to have drawn the short straw.”
Lucifer pretended to gasp. “But she needs her mommy!”
“Call me that again and I’ll deck you.” Adam groaned again and rubbed more at his back. “I can’t wait to put her down. This nearly constantly needing to be touching me thing is getting old. I even have to sleep with her strapped to me.”
“HA! Made you say her!” Lucifer cheered and nudged Adam’s angelic side. “You’ve admitted we’re having a girl. I’ve been telling you for months. It’s going to be a girl.”
Adam did deck him that time, but most of the oof was taken out of the throw by being off center.
Lucifer laughed again. “Okay. Okay. I’ll stop. Here, let daddy rub your back.”
Now, Adam was going to protest but Lucifer’s hands were on him and as Lucifer rubbed at the sore muscles Adam groaned in relief. He let Lucifer rub his back and his shoulders until the bell for the break ended.
“I suppose,” Lucifer drawled looking at his stiff chair. “We should get back to it.”
“Or,” Adam ventured, “instead of talking for the millionth time about our kid’s dominion over purgatory and the laws around it, you could keep rubbing my back.”
“Why I do believe you might be enjoying my company for once.” Lucifer teased as he guided Adam to a chair and started rubbing again.
Adam didn’t want to dignify that with a response, but shutting the fuck up was not on of his virtues. “I’m enjoying the relief from the pain carrying around your bastard child.”
“Well, you could always marry me.”
Laughing hard, Adam had to open his mask and wipe away a tear. “Oh that would kill in Heaven. ‘God has decreed that Purgatory needed a ruler and thus Adam, the first man and first soul in heaven is to produce a child with the fallen angel, Lucifer to create a ruler of both realms, heaven and hell, of angel and human and now the the ritual has been completed and a divine egg created by combining their powers, they’re getting married y’all.’ Oh fuck. I would be excommunicated so fast.”
“Worth it to see the look on Sera’s face.” Lucifer hummed.
“… maybe.”
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hircines-hunter · 1 day
Text
WIP almost Wednesday
still got the Ulfric brainrot. It’s getting worse if I’m buying merch…. Oh well! Maybe I need a new hobby! I’ll see. couldn’t decide on what to actually post. So, I’ll post this thing since I made an image for it and everything.
Gonna tag @thequeenofthewinter @umbracirrus @mavariel @madamefluffnstuff @vivifriend
Anyone else that wants to do you can tag me please!
Dyrvina paced in the main hall. She sighed heavily. She messed with the red beads on her wrist.
Several weeks had passed since Ulfric and his army left for Solitude. Dyrvina grew worried with every passing day and night. The people grew worried. She was frequented by the same people at court daily. All of them concerned with the state of the war. As if anyone had time to report to her.
Frits moped around with her. Lerke followed her lady’s every step, armor clanking with each footfall. Dyrvina sighed again. She knew he was alive. There would’ve been reports, otherwise.
She bit at her nail. She stopped, walked to the throne, and sat down. How did he sit on this for so many years?
Dyrvina looked up when the doors burst open. She stood up. A Stormcloak scout ran towards the throne. Lerke stepped between the scout and Dyrvina. Her hand rested on her sword.
“The war….” He took a deep breath, trying to catch his breath. “Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak has won. The Empire and Thalmor have retreated to Cyrodiil. He….” The scout doubled over and panted. “Apologies, my lady. A letter. From the Jarl. To you.”
Lerke took the letter from the scout and walked to Dyrvina, who stepped down the dais.
Dyrvina looks at the letter. She traced the Stormcloak seal before carefully opening the letter and reading the contents.
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Dyrvina found another folded piece of paper. She opened it. A list of casualties from Solitude, from both sides. Divines. Dyrvina felt her eyes water. “Jorleif.” She dabbed the tears in her eyes.
“Aye, my lady.” The steward appeared from the war room. Llaareni followed behind him. She gave Dyrvina a soft smile.
“This is from Ulfric for you. Please.”
The steward walked over and grabbed the paper. He glanced over it and nodded. “We will handle this.” He turned to Llaareni and nodded.
Dyrvina turned back to the scout. “Thank you for your speedy return with such important news. You may rest. The barracks are through that door.” She turned. “Please grab whatever food and drink you need. But please rest.”
“My lady. You should address the city.” Jorleif spoke up.
Dyrvina froze. She messed with the beads of her dress. “Town crier. Get a town crier. Ulfric is better at speeches.” She swallowed. She messed with the bracelet again. She took a deep breath.
“You can do it, Lady Dyrvina. Jarl Ulfric has entrusted you with his duties and the city. You have been doing an exceptional job. This is far too important to leave to a town crier.” Jorleif smiled.
Dyrvina nodded. “Okay…. Aye. I… I don’t have a fraction of Ulfric’s charisma.”
“The people still love you.” Lerke spoke this time. “We will be there.”
She nodded again. “Aye. I’ll try. Should I change? Is this dress okay to wear?” Dyrvina looked around for Maera.
“You always look great, Lady Dyrvina.” Lerke smiled. “It is Stormcloak blue. You wear a bear cloak. You look everything a Stormcloak Queen should look.”
“Llaareni and I will gather the city in the courtyard.” The steward and his assistant hurried out of the Palace.
“Can I even speak loud enough? I don’t have a voice or Thu’um like Ulfric?” Dyrvina wrung her hands. “By Talos. I wish he had just came into the city himself!” She cursed.
Lerke laughed. “Did you not want to take over Dawnstar at one point? And now here you are fretting over your duties.”
“I’ve had the perfect husband in that sense. I have found that I much prefer short term duties over long term. It has been a long month without him. And I have to wait longer. And I can now understand why I grate his nerves. By Talos. I cannot wait until he returns.” She sighed.
“Have you fallen in love with him?” Lerke laughed, knowing the answer.
“Not like that. He is family. And I care about him. I never realized how often I relied on his strength and support since we’ve been apart.” She turned when the doors opened and Jorleif and Llaareni returned. “Well…. I will let Windhelm know the news.”
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magicandpizza · 3 days
Note
12 for the prompt game? I’ve been loving it!!!
Hello, thank you playing!
12. “Did I say that out loud?”
“It’s a weevil?” Inej asks, holding out her hand to take the little vial from Wylan and inspect it.
“A chemical weevil,” says Kaz. “Tell them how it works.”
Wylan clears his throat. “I got the idea from cane blight - just a little bit of bacteria can ruin a whole crop. Once the weevil is dropped into the silo, it’ll keep burrowing down, using the sugar as fuel until there’s nothing left but useless mulch.”
“It’s brilliant,” Jesper says, mildly awed. “Like you.”
“I helped as well,” Kuwei adds from across the table, looking sulky.
Jesper pretends not to hear him, still focused on Wylan, who has flushed an appealing shade of daylily pink.
Saints, he’s cute when he’s being smart.
Inej snorts.
“Uhh, did I just say that out loud?” Jesper asks, sheepish, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. He glances at Wylan, who ducks his head to hide his smile.
Kuwei makes an exasperated noise. “Saints, I wish you two would just get a room.”
“You and me both,” says Jesper. “It’s been far too long since we got to spend some quality time together.” He winks at Wylan, who rolls his eyes but smiles fondly at him. “But present circumstances don’t exactly lend themselves to that.” With one hand he gestures broadly to the cold, damp walls of the tomb.
For all his jokes, the thing he misses most of all is the quiet intimacy of their room back at the Slat. It was never much to begin with, but it was theirs. Jesper longs for a moment to breathe, a chance to be alone with Wylan, to hold him close and tell him everything would be okay, even if it was a lie. He glances down at the warmth of a familiar hand resting on top of his own and squeezing lightly. When he looks back up, he meets Wylan’s gaze, his eyes that say me too.
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eclipsedrgn · 3 days
Text
𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑬𝒍𝒔𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔
5 years later, you are living your best life in california but you didn't realize you were never going to get that happy ending.
TW🔞 mature content, suicide, depression
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California had become your sanctuary, a far cry from the shadows of Gotham that had once consumed your life. You had spent the last five years building something new—something simple and pure, far removed from the chaos that had torn you apart. Your daughter, Amara, was your light, and your days were filled with moments that reminded you of just how far you had come. The boys still visited regularly—too often for you to catch your breath at times, but you didn’t mind. You loved them, and seeing them happy and healthy filled the holes that Gotham had left in your heart.
You had even managed to put the past behind you, at least mostly. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell Amara the full truth about her father. Instead, you offered her a softened version of Bruce Wayne—the protective, loving, and kind man he had been before everything fell apart. She was too young to carry the burden of the real story, too innocent to understand the pain that had consumed both of you after Jason’s death. And for now, that was enough.
It was a Monday morning like any other. Amara was at school, and you were working your usual shift at the nearby café, smiling at regulars and enjoying the quiet rhythm of life you had built. The bell above the door chimed softly, signaling a new customer, and you looked up from behind the counter, ready to greet them with the usual warmth.
But the words died in your throat as soon as your eyes locked onto the familiar, piercing blue ones staring back at you.
Bruce.
For a moment, the world seemed to tilt on its axis. You blinked, your mind struggling to process what you were seeing. You hadn’t seen him in five years—not since you left Gotham behind, not since you promised yourself you’d never face him again. But there he was, standing in front of you like a ghost from the past, his face etched with something you couldn’t quite place. Regret? Sorrow? It didn’t matter. He didn’t belong here. Not in your new life.
“(Y/N),” he mumbled, his voice low and rough, as if the sound of your name caused him pain.
You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. The sight of him, the sound of his voice, brought everything flooding back—the years of betrayal, the pain, the abandonment. You didn’t trust yourself to speak, didn’t trust yourself to keep the anger and hurt in check.
Without a word, you turned to your boss, your voice barely above a whisper as you leaned in. “My ex is here,” you said, your tone trembling. “I need to go.”
Your boss, a kind woman who knew your story—at least parts of it—nodded quickly, her eyes filled with understanding. “Go out the back. Take your time. I’ve got this.”
You gave her a shaky smile, grateful for her kindness, and hurried out the back door, your hands shaking as you fumbled for your phone. The second you were outside, you dialed Jason’s number, your breath coming in short, panicked bursts as you waited for him to answer.
“Ma?” Jason’s voice came through, sharp and filled with concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Jason,” you whispered, glancing over your shoulder as if Bruce might be following you. “He’s here. Bruce is at the café.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line before Jason cursed under his breath. “Fuck. Okay, stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.”
“I’m heading to my car,” you said, your voice still trembling as you started walking quickly across the parking lot. “I don’t want to be here when he—”
You didn’t finish the sentence. A strong hand grabbed your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. Your heart leapt into your throat as you spun around, coming face to face with Bruce. He stared down at you, his eyes filled with something dark and unreadable, and your breath hitched as you tried to yank your wrist free from his grip.
“Let me go,” you hissed, your voice low and full of anger.
But Bruce didn’t release you. He just stood there, staring at you, as if he couldn’t believe you were real.
You glared up at him, your anger boiling over. “What, Bruce? Are you here to drag me back to Arkham? Is that what this is about? Because if it is, I’m not going quietly.”
For a moment, Bruce’s expression didn’t change. He just stood there, his grip on your wrist firm but not painful, his eyes locked on yours. You could see the storm brewing behind them, the way his jaw clenched as if he was holding something back.
“I’m not here to take you anywhere,” he finally said, his voice quiet but heavy with emotion.
“Then what do you want?” you snapped, your chest tight with anxiety. “Because I don’t have anything to say to you.”
You tried to pull your wrist free again, but he still wouldn’t let go. His gaze softened ever so slightly, but there was something desperate in the way he was holding onto you, like he was afraid that if he let go, you’d vanish. And maybe, in a way, you had. You had built a life without him, without Gotham, without the pain that came with it.
“I just want to talk,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
You shook your head, anger bubbling up inside you. “Talk? What could we possibly have to talk about, Bruce? You made your choice years ago. You left me in that hellhole, and I’m not going back. Not to Gotham, and certainly not to you.”
His jaw tightened at your words, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he just looked at you with those same sad eyes, the weight of everything between you hanging in the air like a suffocating fog.
“You need to let me go,” you said, your voice shaking with emotion. “I have a life here, Bruce. I moved on.”
Bruce’s eyes darkened, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of something—pain, regret, maybe even fear. But then he spoke again, his voice steady but soft. “I… I didn’t know.”
“Didn’t know what?” you snapped, frustration mounting.
He hesitated, his grip on your wrist finally loosening. “That you were pregnant.”
Your blood ran cold, your heart stopping in your chest as the words sank in. He knew. He knew. Somehow, despite all your efforts to keep Amara a secret, Bruce had found out. Your mind raced as you tried to figure out how, when, but none of it mattered now. What mattered was keeping Amara safe.
"How did you know?" You whispered, "How did you know about her?!"
"Harley slipped up..."
You yanked your wrist free from his grasp, stepping back quickly as you glared up at him. “You don’t get to know her, Bruce.”
His expression didn’t change, but his eyes softened, the sadness in them deepening. “She’s my daughter.”
“She’s my daughter,” you shot back, your voice trembling with anger. “And you don’t get to walk back into my life after all this time and just claim her. You lost that right when you left me to rot in Arkham.”
Bruce flinched, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he took a deep breath, his gaze lowering to the ground. “I didn’t know what they were doing to you. If I had—”
“Save it,” you interrupted, your voice cold. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. You didn’t care then, and I don’t need you to care now.”
He looked up at you again, his eyes filled with something close to desperation. “I do care.”
You shook your head, backing away from him. “It’s too late, Bruce. I don’t need you, and neither does Amara. We’re fine on our own.”
Before Bruce could respond, you turned and walked quickly toward your car, your heart pounding in your chest. You could feel his gaze on your back, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t let him back into your life. Not after everything you had been through. Not after what he had done.
As soon as you reached your car, you climbed inside, locking the doors behind you. Your hands were shaking as you dialed Jason’s number again, your breath coming in short, panicked bursts.
“Ma?” Jason answered immediately, his voice tense. “Where are you?”
“I’m in the car,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “He knows, Jason. He knows about Amara.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line before Jason cursed softly. “Fuck. Okay, stay there. I’m coming to get you.”
You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes as you glanced in the rearview mirror. Bruce was still standing in the parking lot, his hands in his pockets, watching you from a distance.
“I just want to go home,” you whispered, your heart breaking all over again.
The roar of the engine filled your ears as Bruce’s firm grip on you didn’t relent, even as you screamed, fought, and kicked against him. Your mind was racing, panic taking over as you were hoisted into the Batplane like a prisoner. You were desperate, your thoughts only on Amara. She was waiting for you, expecting you to pick her up from school like any normal day. You couldn’t let Bruce drag you back to Gotham, back to the nightmare you had barely escaped from. Not again.
“Bruce, stop!” you shouted, your voice hoarse from screaming. “I need to go back! Amara’s waiting for me!”
Bruce’s face remained as unreadable as ever, though his grip tightened slightly as he sat down in the cockpit. With a calmness that only further infuriated you, he lifted his phone, dialing quickly.
Your heart sank as you heard him speak into the device. “Jason,” Bruce said, his voice rough but composed, “I have her. Bring Amara to the manor.”
“No!” you screamed, struggling harder against his hold. “You can’t take her! You can’t bring her there!”
But Bruce’s gaze didn’t waver. His jaw clenched, and he didn’t even look at you as the Batplane took off, soaring into the skies above California. “It’s the only way,” he muttered quietly, more to himself than to you.
The cold, metallic walls of the Batplane only deepened your sense of dread. You knew this feeling too well—the feeling of being trapped, of having no control over your own life. You tried to reach for the controls, but Bruce’s hand shot out to stop you, his grip still firm but not painful. His silence cut deeper than any words ever could.
"Why are you doing this?" you asked, your voice trembling. "Why now, after all this time?"
Bruce remained silent, his blue eyes focused on the horizon ahead. You wanted to hate him, to scream at him for doing this to you. But beneath all the anger, there was something else—something that hurt more than anything.
Fear.
You were terrified. Not of Bruce, but of the possibility that this would all unravel. You had built a new life with Amara, and now everything was being torn apart. If Bruce knew about her, what else could he take from you?
Minutes passed like hours as the Batplane crossed the distance between California and Gotham. You had stopped screaming, though your heart was still racing, your mind spinning. And when the Batplane finally landed in the familiar shadows of the Batcave, your stomach twisted with anxiety.
Bruce unbuckled his seatbelt and, without a word, lifted you into his arms again. You didn’t fight this time. The shock and exhaustion had left you numb, your thoughts jumbled as he carried you out of the plane and into the dimly lit expanse of the cave.
The moment you stepped onto the Batcave floor, you heard voices. Familiar voices.
“Mom? Bruce, what the hell are you doing?” Dick’s voice rang out, his footsteps hurried as he rushed over.
Tim followed closely behind, his expression a mix of confusion and alarm. “Bruce, stop—what’s going on?”
But before either of them could intervene, Bruce was already moving, carrying you toward the mansion’s inner halls with grim determination. He didn’t respond to his sons, didn’t look back as they trailed behind him, their voices growing more frantic.
“Bruce, stop! Let her go!” Dick shouted, his voice desperate.
Tim’s voice was filled with disbelief. “You can’t do this! What are you thinking?”
Damian, however, stood in the background, his arms crossed, a scowl plastered on his face. His cold, calculating eyes watched the scene with thinly veiled contempt. “Who is this woman?” he muttered, his voice laced with disdain. “Another one of Father’s… harlots?”
You barely registered Damian’s words as Bruce carried you through the manor and up the stairs, your heart pounding in your chest as you realized where he was taking you.
The master bedroom.
Your pulse quickened as Bruce reached the door, his grip still firm but not harsh. Without a word, he opened the door and threw you inside, locking it behind you before you could even react. The heavy door slammed shut with a finality that made your stomach churn.
“No!” you screamed, pounding against the door with all the strength you had left. “Bruce, let me out! I don’t belong here! Let me go!”
But the door didn’t budge. From the other side, you could hear Bruce’s voice, low and full of regret. “I’m sorry. But this is the only way to get you home.”
Home.
You pressed your forehead against the door, tears burning in your eyes as you pounded your fists weakly against the wood. This wasn’t home. It hadn’t been for years. Not since the day Bruce had sent you to Arkham, not since everything had fallen apart.
“Bruce, please,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Please don’t do this.”
But the only response was silence.
Meanwhile, back in the Batcave, chaos was unfolding.
Jason had arrived using the Zeta Tube, his expression dark and his steps hurried. And with him was Amara, her small hand wrapped tightly around his as they emerged from the glowing portal. Jason’s face was set in a hard line, his jaw clenched as he scanned the cave for Bruce.
“Where is he?” Jason demanded, his voice rough with barely restrained anger.
But before anyone could answer, Amara spotted her older brother. Her face lit up, her bright eyes sparkling as she let go of Jason’s hand and rushed forward. “Dickie!”
Dick smiled through the tension, dropping to one knee to catch her in his arms. But before Amara could reach him, a flash of steel cut through the air, and suddenly, a katana was pointed directly at her throat.
Damian.
The youngest Wayne’s face was set in a deep scowl, his eyes sharp and distrustful as he held his blade steady. “Who is this child?” he asked coldly, his gaze never leaving Amara’s terrified face. “And why is she in the Batcave?”
“Damian, no!” Dick shouted, his voice filled with panic as he rushed forward, his heart stopping as he saw the fear in Amara’s wide eyes. “Put the sword down!”
Jason’s entire body tensed, his eyes flashing with fury as he stepped forward, his hand already reaching for his gun. “You little shit, if you don’t move that sword right now—”
Tim’s voice cracked with urgency. “Damian, stop! She’s just a kid!”
But Damian didn’t move, his grip on the katana unwavering. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Amara, his voice dripping with contempt. “A kid? Father brought this child here, but she’s no family of ours.”
Amara’s lip trembled, her small body frozen in place as she looked up at Damian, tears welling in her eyes. “Jayjay…” she whimpered, her voice trembling with fear.
Jason took another step forward, his hand still hovering over his gun. “Damian,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Put the fucking sword down. Now.”
For a moment, it seemed like Damian might refuse. His eyes flicked from Amara to Jason, his scowl deepening. But then, after what felt like an eternity, he slowly lowered the katana, the blade clinking softly as it hit the stone floor of the Batcave.
Amara let out a shaky breath, her tiny body trembling as she rushed into Dick’s arms, burying her face in his shoulder. Dick held her tightly, his own heart pounding as he shot Damian a furious glare.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Dick snapped, his voice trembling with anger. “She’s your sister!”
Damian scoffed, sheathing his sword with a dismissive wave. “Sister? Father never mentioned any child. She’s just another stranger.”
Jason, who had been seconds away from pulling the trigger, let out a low growl, his body still tense with barely restrained rage. “You touch her again, and I swear—”
Tim quickly stepped in, placing a hand on Jason’s shoulder to stop him from escalating things any further. “Jason, don’t. Not here.”
Jason clenched his jaw, his eyes still locked on Damian, but he nodded reluctantly, stepping back as he ran a hand through his hair. He looked down at Amara, who was still clinging to Dick, her small body shaking with fear.
“We need to get her out of here,” Jason muttered, his voice rough with emotion. “She doesn’t belong in this fucking circus.”
Tim nodded in agreement, his face filled with concern as he glanced toward the stairs leading to the manor. “We need to talk to Bruce. Figure out what the hell he’s thinking.”
Jason glanced at Amara, his heart breaking at the sight of her scared, tear-streaked face. “I’m going to get her out of here,” he said quietly, his voice softening as he knelt down beside her. “Hey, kiddo. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
Amara sniffled, wiping her eyes as she looked up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. “I want to go home, Jayjay.”
Jason’s heart clenched, and he nodded, scooping her up into his arms as he held her close. “I know, sweetheart. I’m going to take you home.”
But as he turned to leave, the sound of footsteps echoed through the cave, and a familiar figure appeared at the top of the stairs.
Bruce.
His eyes swept over the scene in front of him—Dick holding Amara protectively, Jason’s tense, angry stance, and Damian’s cold, calculating expression. For a moment, his face softened, his gaze landing on Amara, but it quickly hardened again as he looked at his sons.
“Amara stays,” Bruce said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Jason’s eyes darkened, his grip on Amara tightening as he took a step toward Bruce. “Like hell she does.”
But Bruce didn’t back down. His gaze flickered to Amara, who was clutching Jason’s jacket tightly, her tear-streaked face peeking out from behind her brother’s shoulder.
“She’s my daughter too,” Bruce said quietly, his voice filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite place.
Jason’s eyes narrowed, his body trembling with rage as he glared at Bruce. “You don’t get to decide that. Not after everything.”
The tension in the Batcave was suffocating, the air thick with unspoken anger and unresolved grief. Jason’s fury had been building since the moment Bruce dragged you back here—back to the city that had chewed you up and spit you out, leaving you to fend for yourself in Arkham. For years, Jason had kept the truth of what happened to you a secret, only revealing bits and pieces to his brothers when necessary. But now, standing face to face with the man who had abandoned you, with Bruce demanding to be part of Amara’s life, Jason couldn’t hold it in any longer.
The words exploded out of him like bullets from a gun, each one laced with venom. "You don’t get to decide shit about Amara, Bruce. Do you even know what you put her mother through? Do you know what she went through in Arkham?"
Bruce’s face paled at the accusation, his expression shifting from firm resolve to uncertainty. His blue eyes flickered with confusion, as if he couldn’t understand what Jason was getting at. "Jason—"
"Do you know what they did to her in that hellhole you left her in?" Jason spat, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. "They fucking raped her, Bruce. The guards, the inmates—they took turns with her like she was some kind of goddamn toy. You left her there to rot, and they broke her."
Bruce froze, his eyes widening in shock. For a moment, the words seemed to hang in the air, too horrific, too painful to fully comprehend. Bruce's entire body stiffened as the weight of Jason’s accusation settled on him like a heavy blanket.
Dick’s face drained of color as he stood holding Amara, his arms tightening around her protectively. His jaw clenched, his heart breaking at the image Jason’s words conjured in his mind. He glanced down at Amara, her innocent face nestled against his chest, oblivious to the horrors being discussed. He needed to get her out of here.
"Tim," Dick called out, his voice trembling with the effort of keeping himself together, "take Amara upstairs. Now."
Tim’s eyes filled with tears, but he quickly nodded, rushing over to take Amara from Dick’s arms. "Come on, kiddo," Tim whispered, his voice breaking as he gently lifted her into his arms. "Let’s go see Alfred. He’s making cookies."
Amara blinked up at him, her small face full of confusion, but she didn’t protest. She didn’t understand why the grown-ups were acting so strange, why her big brothers seemed so upset. She clung to Tim, her little hands grasping at his shirt as he carried her up the stairs, her bright smile slowly fading as she sensed the tension in the air.
As soon as Tim disappeared with Amara, Dick’s composure shattered. He turned to Bruce, his voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and fury. "Is that true? Is that what happened to her in Arkham?"
Bruce didn’t answer, his throat tightening as he struggled to process what Jason had just revealed. His mind was racing, images of you flashing before his eyes—the way you had looked at him when he locked you in that room, the way you had screamed for him to let you go. He had thought he was doing the right thing, sending you to Arkham to keep you contained, to keep you from spiraling out of control after killing the Joker. But now, hearing what had happened to you, knowing that he had left you to suffer through something so horrific, the weight of his decision crushed him.
"Why didn’t you tell me?" Bruce whispered, his voice hollow.
"Why didn’t I tell you?" Jason’s voice cracked with disbelief. "You didn’t care. You didn’t care enough to check on her. You left her there, and now you want to waltz back into her life and play happy family with Amara? Fuck you, Bruce."
Bruce’s fists clenched at his sides, guilt and regret crashing down on him like a tidal wave. But before he could respond, a loud, sharp sound rang through the manor—a gunshot.
The sound reverberated through the halls, echoing in the cavernous space of the Batcave.
Everything stopped.
Dick and Jason’s eyes widened in horror, their bodies freezing for a split second before the weight of what had just happened hit them like a sledgehammer.
"No," Dick breathed, his voice barely a whisper as he turned toward the stairs. "No, no, no."
Jason was already moving, his heart pounding in his chest as he sprinted toward the stairs, his boots slamming against the cold stone. "Mom!"
Bruce’s face drained of color, his entire body going numb as the realization settled in. His legs moved on their own, following after Jason and Dick, the panic seizing him in a way that left him breathless.
Damian, who had been standing off to the side, scowled as his brothers ran past him. "What now?" he muttered, irritation lining his voice.
But when he caught sight of Bruce’s expression—the way his father’s face had gone pale, the terror in his eyes—Damian’s scowl faltered. He hesitated for a moment before following the others, his confusion growing with each step.
In the kitchen, Alfred had been preparing tea when the gunshot rang out. His hands trembled, the teacup slipping from his grasp and shattering against the floor.
"Dear God…" Alfred whispered, his heart hammering in his chest. He could hear the hurried footsteps from the Batcave, the frantic voices of the boys as they raced up the stairs.
Upstairs, in one of the manor’s hallways, Tim had been gently carrying Amara, trying to distract her with stories about Alfred’s famous cookies. But the moment the gunshot echoed through the manor, Tim’s heart dropped into his stomach. He stopped in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat as Amara looked up at him with wide, confused eyes.
"What was that?" Amara asked, her voice small and scared.
Tim’s eyes welled with tears, his throat tightening as he held her closer. "It’s okay," he whispered, his voice shaking. "It’s okay, sweetheart. Let’s go see Alfred."
But even as he said the words, the truth hit him like a freight train. He knew, deep down, what that sound meant. And it tore him apart.
Jason reached the door to the master bedroom first, his heart slamming against his ribs as he threw himself against it, his voice breaking with desperation. "Mom! Mom, open the door!"
Dick was right behind him, his eyes wide and frantic as he pounded against the door. "Mom, please! Let us in!"
Bruce arrived next, his face pale and his breathing shallow as he grabbed the handle, trying to open the door. But it wouldn’t budge. The lock held firm, keeping them out—keeping you in.
"Mom!" Jason screamed, his voice hoarse as he slammed his fist against the door, his strength failing him for the first time in years. "Please, don’t do this!"
But there was no response. Only silence.
The gunshot still echoed in his mind, loud and deafening, and Jason’s chest tightened with a fear he hadn’t felt since the day he had lost you the first time. The day he had come back from the dead, only to find that you were gone, locked away in Arkham, lost to him.
And now, it was happening all over again.
Bruce’s hands shook as he fumbled for the key, his fingers trembling as he unlocked the door with a loud click. The door swung open, and Jason was the first to rush inside, his heart pounding in his chest, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes landed on you.
You were sitting by the door, slumped against the wall, your hand still holding the gun that had been pressed to your temple just moments ago. Blood pooled around you, staining the floor, and your eyes—those eyes that had once been so full of life—were now closed, your face pale.
Jason let out a guttural scream, the sound tearing from his throat as he fell to his knees beside you, his hands trembling as he reached for you. "No… No, no, no… Mom…"
Dick followed close behind, his face contorting with grief as he took in the sight of you lying there, lifeless. His heart shattered into a million pieces, and he collapsed to the floor beside Jason, his hands shaking as he tried to reach out, but couldn’t.
"Mom, please…" Dick sobbed, his voice broken. "Please don’t leave us…"
Bruce stood frozen in the doorway, his entire body numb as he stared at the scene in front of him. He had failed you. Again. The weight of it crushed him, the realization that he had pushed you too far—that he had been the cause of your suffering. His legs buckled, and he sank to his knees, his face buried in his hands as the sobs overtook him.
Damian stood in the doorway, his eyes wide with shock and confusion as he watched his brothers fall apart. For the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to say, what to do. He had never seen his father like this, had never seen his brothers so broken. And he didn’t understand why this woman—this stranger—had caused them so much pain.
In the kitchen, Tim held Amara tightly, his own sobs muffled as he rocked her gently, trying to keep her from hearing the anguished screams coming from upstairs.
The room was deathly silent save for the heart-wrenching sobs that echoed through the walls of Wayne Manor. Jason sat on the floor, cradling your lifeless body in his arms, rocking you gently as if it could somehow bring you back. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, his chest tight with the overwhelming grief that crushed him from every side. Your blood soaked through his clothes, but he didn’t care. He held onto you as if letting go would make the reality of your death even more unbearable.
Dick knelt beside him, his hands trembling as he stroked a lock of your hair, his eyes red and swollen from the tears that hadn’t stopped falling since they had found you. His heart shattered as he looked into your eyes—eyes that once held so much love and life—but now were dull and lifeless. The realization hit him like a freight train: they were too late. He had lost you.
Jason’s sobs grew louder, more desperate, as he rocked back and forth, his face buried in your neck. "Mom… please…" he whispered, his voice thick with grief. "Please come back… don’t leave us…"
But you were gone. And nothing—no amount of pleading, no amount of tears—could bring you back.
Dick’s sorrow turned to rage, his blood boiling as he turned his gaze toward Bruce, who stood frozen in the doorway. Bruce’s face was pale, his eyes wide with disbelief, his breath shallow as he stared at your body. The weight of what he had done—what his choices had caused—was crushing him, but it was too late. He had failed you in the most unforgivable way.
"This is your fault," Dick growled, his voice low and dangerous. He stood slowly, his hands clenched into fists as he glared at Bruce, his eyes filled with fury. "You did this."
Bruce didn’t respond, his throat tightening as the words cut through him like a knife. He couldn’t deny it. He couldn’t argue. Deep down, he knew Dick was right. He had put you in Arkham, had abandoned you to that nightmare, and now… now you were gone because of him.
"You left her," Dick continued, his voice shaking with anger. "You left her in Arkham to suffer, and now she’s dead. Our mom is dead because of you."
Jason’s body shook with silent sobs, his grip on your body tightening as Dick’s words echoed in the room. "We lost her," Jason whispered, his voice barely audible. "We lost her…"
Bruce’s heart shattered as he took a hesitant step forward, his eyes locked on your lifeless form. "I… I didn’t know," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I didn’t know what they were doing to her…"
Dick’s eyes blazed with fury as he stepped forward, his finger jabbing toward Bruce’s chest. "You should have known! You should have been there! But you weren’t! You weren’t there when she needed you, and now she’s gone."
Bruce recoiled at the accusation, guilt and regret tearing at him from the inside. His legs felt weak, his breath shallow, as he took a step back, his entire world crumbling around him. He had failed you in the worst possible way, and now, there was no way to make it right.
Dick wiped the tears from his face, his voice trembling with emotion as he spoke again. "Amara will be under my care from now on. Kori and I will raise her. We’ll give her the life Mom wanted for her—a normal life. Away from all of this."
Jason’s breath hitched, his sobs subsiding slightly as he slowly stood, still holding your body in his arms. His eyes were red, swollen, and filled with an emotion that Bruce couldn’t quite place—grief, yes, but something deeper, something darker. Jason met Dick’s gaze and gave a small, shaky nod, as if silently agreeing to Dick’s decision.
Dick turned to Bruce one last time, his voice full of venom. "You don’t get to have her, Bruce. You don’t get to be her father. You lost that right the day you left Mom to rot."
Without another word, Dick turned and walked toward the door, his heart heavy with the weight of everything that had just happened. Jason followed closely behind, carrying you gently in his arms, his face pale and drawn with grief.
Downstairs, in the kitchen, the tension was palpable. Tim sat on the floor, his back against the wall, holding Amara tightly in his arms. Tears streamed down his face as he clung to her, his chest heaving with quiet sobs. He had tried to keep her distracted, tried to pretend like nothing was wrong, but the gunshot had shattered that illusion. He knew what had happened. He knew you were gone.
Amara squirmed in his lap, her innocent voice cutting through the silence. "Timmy… what was that sound?"
Tim’s throat tightened, the lump in his chest making it difficult to breathe. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words, couldn’t bring himself to tell her that her mother was gone. He swallowed hard, his voice trembling as he whispered, "It’s okay, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be okay."
But even as he said the words, he knew they were a lie.
Damian entered the kitchen, his face as cold and emotionless as ever. He glanced at Tim, his eyes narrowing slightly before he let out a sigh. "She’s dead."
Tim’s heart clenched, and he let out a choked sob, his arms tightening around Amara as if holding her close could somehow protect her from the truth. "Don’t say that," Tim snapped, his voice breaking. "Don’t say that in front of her."
But Amara had already heard. She had heard Damian’s words, and though she didn’t fully understand them, she could sense the weight of the news. Her tiny hands gripped Tim’s shirt tightly, her small voice trembling as she whispered, "Where’s Mommy?"
Tim’s chest tightened, his sobs muffled as he buried his face in Amara’s hair, trying to hold back the flood of emotions that threatened to consume him. He couldn’t answer her. He couldn’t tell her the truth. Not yet.
Damian, for once, remained silent. He stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, his face set in a deep frown. He hadn’t understood what his brothers were so worked up about—why they cared so much about this woman. But seeing the way Tim clung to Amara, the way his brothers had fallen apart upstairs, a small part of Damian—one he would never admit out loud—felt… something. Something he couldn’t quite place.
But he didn’t know how to respond. So, he said nothing.
Back in the master bedroom, Bruce stood alone. The sound of the door closing behind Jason and Dick echoed in his mind, but he didn’t move. His eyes were locked on the spot where you had been, where Jason had cradled your body, where Dick had delivered his damning words.
His knees buckled, and Bruce fell to the floor, his hands trembling as he buried his face in them. The weight of his choices, the consequences of his actions, crushed him.
He had lost you. And in doing so, he had lost everything.
The silence of the room was suffocating, the only sound the faint echo of his own ragged breathing. The world seemed to close in on him, the guilt, the grief, the overwhelming sense of failure consuming him whole.
He had failed you.
He had failed his family.
And now, there was no way to make it right.
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hi, hello! absolutely love your work, and wanted to request a scenario for sve i’ve been thinking about for a bit now. It’s sort of complicated and long, so i understand if not, but thank you for reading in the first place! :3 ♡
how would the sve adventurers with marlon, and mages with camilla, jadu, & magnus react to a farmer who is an actively wanted fugitive in the gotoro empire, and also wanted by the ferngill republic for crimes committed against figures in both governments? and when revealed why exactly they did these things, it’s because they were killing them due to said figures being corrupt and harming the people? perhaps even going as far as to get rid of any wizards or witches in the ferngill republic ministry of magic who do it solely for the fame or adventures in various guilds in the order of the knights of pythagoras who are in it for the money and not to protect people? how would they react to this farmer, who’s been right under their watch the whole time, actually turn out to be someone they’ve been trying to capture for years, and completely evading them? i’d imagine even more angst if they had already formed complex relationships and friendships with everyone, only to be a wanted criminal, despite their inherently good intentions.
Headcanon when people who had good motives to protect the world killed other people who were corrupted and bad by their standards?*looking in the direction of the Cult of The Lady With The Red Tail from RSV mod* Yeah, I've heard something about that...
I recommend that you, dear anon, familiarise yourself with the Ridgeside Village mod, because there are at least two marriage candidates out there who live in the same scenario. But anyway, thank you very much for your kind words 🥺 Enjoy some headcanons and have a great day! 💕
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Isaac knew there was something fishy about Farmer! His own gut was screaming that something was wrong with them, and, oh look, he was absolutely right. The very same promising young adventurer, whom almost everyone praised to the skies (and even Isaac himself almost fell into this trap, accepting the offer of friendship), turned out to be a rotten through and through criminal. Killing corrupt people? That's just fucking wonderful, how honorable they are! Isaac wonders who gave Farmer the right to decide the fate of people? Who gave them the right to be judge and executioner? Corrupt adventurers and mages are scumbags who deserve to be punished. But Farmer is no better than them. So Isaac will drag them to the justice, and use force if he has to.
Magnus now doesn't know what's worse: the fact that Farmer he trusted turned out to be a criminal wanted by the Ministry of Magic, or the fact that almost half of his friends and colleagues (some already killed) turned out to be criminals too. And criminals not of the level of "stole 10000g" from the budget, but responsible for some disasters caused by magic that contributed to hundreds of innocent lives. Does he believe Farmer? Of course he believes him, since the wizard managed to put the seal of truth on them. Which, however, doesn't mean Magnus agrees with their path of vigilant. And so when they both decide to deal with the remaining corrupt adventurers, Farmer will also have to recognize their responsibility for killing others. And no, they can't refuse. Because Magnus has managed to put another seal on them...
Camilla only smirked after Farmer's admission. "I know all that, dear. Otherwise you'd have been rotting behind bars in a dungeon long ago." Instead of trying to explain to the main witch of the Galdora Continent about how Farmer had managed to become a wanted man in the Gotoro Empire/Ferngill Republic, they have to listen to details from Camilla that even they didn't know. Turns out she's been covering them. All the time. Why? Because she is well aware of all the secrets of some of her "colleagues" who never got a deserved punishment. Farmer was the first to confront them openly, even at the cost of their reputation. So Camilla felt it was her duty to help them cleanse all "pests". Oh, and she strongly advises them not to tell anyone about what the two of them have just talked about.
Alesia didn't even realise how she'd pointed the bowstring at the Farmer. All this time the man who was killing adventurers was right under her nose.... The sniper didn't take Isaac's warning too seriously... She may not have the same keen sense for criminals like her friend, but Alesia's eagle eyes and skilful hands would definitely keep her from missing if they try to escape. Maybe Farmer's telling the truth. Either way, they're both going to go deal with Camilla, she's sure to get the truth out. In the meantime. Alesia advises Farmer not to make any sudden moves. Unless they want an arrow in the head. So far all the facts are against Farmer: their word vs. entire murder reports of high profile adventurers...
Jadu is at a complete loss. On the one hand, common sense tells him that the man before him is a dangerous criminal who has broken the laws not only in the Republic, but also in the Gotoro Empire, which is at war with it. Not a word of such a person can be trusted. On the other hand, all the adventurers, witches and wizards who had fallen by the Farmer's hand had indeed had rumours of venality and even involvement in dark deeds. But they were just rumours! What if the Farmer had made a mistake, and destroyed a completely innocent man, framed by someone else? That never occurred to them?! Jadu must get them to the Ministry because he doesn't believe a word they say. And don't underestimate him, he is after all, a battle mage as good as any.
Well... That explains a lot to Lance. And there's no need for Farmer to look at him so surprised. After all, the gallant adventurer is not lacking in intelligence and is a very shrewd man. Lance was conducting his own, if you will, investigation, but he did it as carefully and from a distance as possible, so as not to cross the wrong person. Because there were inconsistencies in official statements about past tragedies in Castle Village. Then came the murders of suspicious members of the Order of the Knights of Pythagoras, all the blame was on "criminal №1" (Farmer, as it turned out), and then.... Hmm, yes, now that makes sense. Lance will get Farmer to Camilla, let them tell her everything, and wait to see what others say at the general court. "They were criminals, Farmer. But you too need to answer for your crimes. Murder is no way to solve problems."
Marlon outwardly may seem to have reacted very calmly to the truth, but inside the one-eyed adventurer a storm of emotions raged. His apprentice, a new member of the Adventurer's Guild, is the very same wanted killer of monster hunters from other guilds and clans. His murdered colleagues, according to Farmer's words, were not noble protectors of human race, but cowards and corrupt bastards. But is that true? Should Farmer be believed at all? What should Marlon even believe now? He's angry, but quickly calms down so he doesn't accidentally make any hasty decisions in a fit of rage. "You're in deep shit, kid." That was all Marlon could say. Better get Gil and Magnus to solve this problem with Farmer.
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an-actual-floof · 10 months
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coming out as a gotham enjoyer
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