#my ability to write is in shambles

[janumun]

The way Gilbert von Obsidian has me catching my breath each single chapter like a scandalised (and extremely turned on) Victorian maiden.

[animelover20]

Ok so if anyone is wondering why I can rarely get fics done or even half way done.

It's because for some fucking reason from when I was 4 my body decided "hmm what about insomnia?" And since then I've probably had 4 good night's sleep and woke up well rested... In my life But you want to know the worst part?

My sleep schedule for the last I dunno how long has been the complete opposite of a normal persons. I sleep from 10AM to 8-9pm

And that's on a regular basis. Then about a few weeks to a bit over a month later BAM! back to "normal"

I dunno wtf is wrong with my body but it is making me depressed as fuck and making me not eat and do daily shit.

I think I need help.

[sk3l3t0n444]

i forgot why i stopped reading webtoons help me

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Hello you amazing wonderful awesomely awesome person! I’m so madly obsessed with your work

Very curious on your thoughts on this: zombie apocalypse au

Do you think Jason and readers first meeting would be need to be more in a life threatening situation in order to stick or would they be able to meet in a calmer environment and stick together?

This isn’t a push for you to write any one shot! Just curious what you think and any additional thoughts or headcanons you might have for this au 👀

Tysm for continuing to put out awesome writing all the time!

The Death Stench

Ahh, asks like this is why I love taking requests!! Thank you, nonnie!! Seriously, so many great ideas come through my inbox that I never would have thought of myself! I was actually so excited when I finally sat down to write this. Sorry it took so long! :)

~1.4k words

Gotham has always been a cesspool of filth and rot. It's something Jason has long grown used to. But the hoards of groaning, decaying zombies are something he's still learning to live with.

It's been four– no, five months since the world fell apart, since the apocalypse broke down society. The government is in shambles, if it still exists, and Jason hasn't seen or heard another living person in weeks.

He thinks he owes his survival to whatever the pit did to him. The corpses that line the streets just seem to ignore him and shuffle past as he breaks into a little corner store for supplies.

It's why he's started to get complacent. It is so easy to not double or triple check your surroundings when the undead treat you like one of their own.

It's a fact he didn't realize until he's staring down the barrel of a gun and maybe the only other living, breathing person on Gotham.

He blinks at them. They blink at him. "You're not one of– you're alive," You half question, surprise and shock clear in their voice.

Jason slowly raises his hands, the last thing he wants to do is get shot when his medical supplies are dwindling, "I'm alive."

He stares at you for a minute, and you stare back before slowly lowering your gun, "I was here first."

He laughs. It's ridiculous. The world ended, he hasn't had a proper conversation in weeks, and you're trying to lay claim to a corner store in shambles. But, he steps back anyway and gestures to the ransacked aisles, "All yours then."

He quirks an eyebrow when you actually look panicked. "Wait," You start, and lower your gun completely, "I'm sorry, I just– haven't seen anyone in a while. I think I forgot how to talk to people."

You're both aware of the risk you took admitting that, to tell a stranger you're completely and utterly alone in this city, that there's no one waiting for you to return.

Jason has the overwhelming urge to make your risk worth it. He can't explain it, but he chalks it up to some form of loneliness.

So, he smiles at you, easy-going and every inch the charming grin that used to win over the old ladies at charity galas, "I haven't been around people in a while either. Maybe we can figure it out together?"

His heart stutters when you smile back, so clearly relieved. "I'd like that," You admit and holster your gun.

The two of you carefully pick through the store, and an uncertain but steady partnership forms between the two of you.

It takes some time, but he learns which shots you can make and which you can't. You learn which knee hurts him when he jumps over chain wire fences. You both learn to cover each other's blind spots, to trust each other to make decisions.

You haven't quite learned that zombies just don't seem to detect him, and he hasn't found a good way to bring it up, to explain that, 'Hey, I was dead and apparently I qualify as one of them. But don't worry! I won't eat you!'

Yeah, Jason figures you wouldn't be too comfortable with him sleeping near you if he said it like that.

He doesn't really get the chance to explain until he has to use his uncanny ability to blend in with rotting corpses to save your life.

It was supposed to be a normal supply run. Pick over what's left of a pharmacy and get out. Cut and dry. Something you've both done more times than you can count. Until it goes wrong.

He'd cleared the area, he'd been so careful, you both were. But you hadn't been lucky. It was no one's fault, when you open a cabinet and a skittish raccoon jumps out at you, sending you falling back.

The animal knocks over cans and boxes as it frantically scampers to get away. It's loud. Too loud.

The two of you froze, when the sounds of shuffling feet start to make their way to the door. Jason weighs his options, and the piece of his heart that had become undeniably yours won quickly.

He grabs your arm and hauls you to your feet. "C'mon," he mutters, dragging you towards a supply closet.

"We need to run," You say quickly, tugging at your arm and trying to push him towards the exit.

"We won't make it," he says firmly and shoves you into the tiny space. He follows you in and pulls the door shut. The door doesn't lock, and he reaches around you to grab an extension cable off a shelf.

"Jason," You half hiss, eyes wide as the groans start to get louder.

He shushes you, heart racing as he ties one end of the extension cord to the door knob, and the other to the metal poles of the shelf.

It's a start, but it wouldn't stop anything from breaking down the door. "Sorry," Jason mumbles. He returns your confused look with an apologetic one, and immediately crowds you against the wall.

He grabs the back of your neck to press your face to his chest. His other hand grabs at your hip, almost desperate. Jason realizes he hasn't been afraid in a long time.

He buries his face in your hair and silently wills you to understand. If he can keep them from getting your scent, hearing you, you'll be safe. He can protect you, he just needs you to stay like this, hidden and sheltered against the dirty wall of the closet.

He knows you can't begin to guess why he's doing this, but you don't make a sound. Your fingers curl into his jacket as the zombies shuffle around the pharmacy. Grunts fill the air as they pass by the door, and Jason feels you stiffen against him.

It's instinctual, when his thumb starts to rub back and forth across your hip. He wants to help, wants you to feel calm and safe even as the smell of death fills the air.

He's surprised when you do relax against him, tucking your face further into his chest. He's not sure how long you stay like that. His thumb never stills, and eventually, the sounds of undead fade, and he's left with just you.

Jason lets himself linger for a moment, savoring your closeness, before slowly untangling himself from you. "You're okay," he says softly, he means for it to be a question, but it comes out as a fact, a complete certainty that you are okay.

You look up at him, eyes wide, "How are we even alive? I've never seen– they've never just ignored people before."

He winces, "I'll– Let me explain. Please. Just not here." He deflates a little at the uncertainty that flashes across your face, but you nod and follow him back to the rooftop that's become his and your base.

He tries to explain, really, does his best to talk about the Pit, who he was, what he used to do. You never interrupt, you listen to every word he says as he lights a fire, methodically making food over the open flame.

You don't say anything as he admits the undead have never been interested in him, but you do let him sit next to you to eat.

He runs out of things to say, as the sun sets over a desolate Gotham. Jason thinks you're going to leave. Or ask him to leave. But you don't. You lean your head against his shoulder, and all the air leaves his lungs.

"I'm glad you're here, Jason," You tell him. And for the first time in a long time, Jason is too.

"I'm glad you're here, too," he echoes, and he hesitantly lowers his head to rest against yours. He breathes a sigh of relief when you don't move, only relax into his side.

Jason closes his eyes to bask in the moment, in being with you, and swears there's not a thing he wouldn't do to keep you like this. To keep you with him, to keep you happy, to keep you alive.

He thinks it might be the reason he's still breathing.

[jadedxhearts]

𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐞

You and Law use his devil fruit abilities, but for all the wrong reasons... Plus part two: You decide to get back at Law for teasing you, with a certain request...

Note: This was my most popular fic back on my main account, "Body Swap", now being reposted here for my Most Popular Fics Event, under a new name! Please keep in mind these were some of the earliest smut fics I ever wrote (Almost 2 years ago), so it isn't representative of my current writing abilities. Regardless, I'm glad to see that so many people enjoyed reading them.

Warnings: smut, fem reader, use of Law's heart-swapping ability.

Typically, once you got a good idea, it wouldn’t leave your mind.

Except that you didn’t know if this was exactly a good idea.

You tried ignoring it as much as possible. But how could you?! It was becoming too much for you to handle.

Sitting in the kitchen, you were eating your dinner with a few other crew mates. The others had been trying to talk to you, but you didn’t listen. It wasn’t that you were ignoring them, no. You just had too much on your mind.

“I think (Name)’s sick,” Bepo said, poking at your arm, but you kept staring ahead, at nothing. “She’s unresponsive…”

“But definitely conscious. That’s odd,” Ikkaku noted.

“Maybe we should take her to captain,” Penguin suggested. “He’d know what to do!”

“About what?” Law asked, entering the kitchen.

“Oh! Captain, thank goodness, (Name)’s acting weird. We think she may be sick!”

You let out a small gasp, face turning red at Law’s voice

“Is she choking?!” Shachi yelled.

Law took a look at you. The answer was clearly no. You almost seemed embarrassed. But about what?

“(Name)-ya.”

Your eyes widened a little, and you turned to look at your boyfriend. “Law…”

“Come on, let me have a look at you,” he motioned for you to get up and follow him.

You followed Law through the halls of the submarine, all the way down to his bedroom. He sat you down on the bed before closing the door, and crossing his arms.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asked.

“Umm… nothing,” you lied.

“Nothing?”

The two of you stared at each other, Law waiting for you to break.

“Ok! Fine. I just… had something on my mind and was very distracted.”

Law raised an eyebrow, not looking very amused. “Distracted?”

“Yeah… um. Got a lot on my mind, y’know…”

“Then tell me what’s on your mind. What could possibly be so distracting that you weren’t even acknowledging everyone around you… ah. But then I walked in.”

Your face went red again.

“You were thinking about me.” He said. “How am I that distracting?”

“Oh, well. Um… I just… had an idea,” you mumbled, looking down.

Law moved closer to you, standing inches away from you now. “An idea?”

You were too embarrassed. It was stupid and he’d never agree to it. But quietly, as though you were genuinely afraid of saying it, you told him your idea.

Then Law’s face turned a little red.

“See, it’s a horrible idea. But I can’t stop thinking about it,” you whined. “Sorry…”

“No. It’s not horrible, just… a bit out there.”

Was he seriously about to agree?!

“We can try it,” he told you. “Since you can’t stop thinking about it. Lay down.”

You laid back against the soft pillows, crossing your hands and waiting for him to make the next move.

Law slid his shirt off, and grabbed kikoku from where it leaned against his desk, walking back over to you.

“Undress at least a little, to make it easier,” he said, standing beside you now.

You slid your shorts off and removed the top you had on off, leaving you in just your rather cute set of undergarments.

Law moved to get on top of you, sitting on his knees, around your legs.

“…you sure about this?” He hesitated.

“We’re already here, aren’t we?” You asked.

Deciding to just get it over with and wanting this over as soon as possible, Law created a room.

He slid the katana out of its case, and closed his eyes.

“Just do it! Before I freak out and back out!” You yelled.

“Ugh. Shambles,” he said as he did a thrusting motion toward your body, then back at himself.

You felt oddly dizzy, and suddenly…

You were now in Law’s spot, holding the katana exactly how he had been seconds ago. Except that you were still underneath him…. But it was just your body.

Now you were panicking. This was a bad idea, why did you even think of it in the first place?!

Looking down, you saw that you were Law… and he was you. Your eyes widened, and you opened your mouth as if you were about to scream. But before you could get more than a “Ah!” out, your (Law’s?) hand was covering your mouth.

“Let’s get this over with, I don’t like looking at myself like this…” he said.

Sliding kikoku back into its case and setting it aside, you slid a hand onto your chest, not being used to how… er, flat… it was. “Woah,” you muttered.

“Stop that! It’s weird!” Law snapped.

“No, this is so weird! I’m so used to.. uh… having boobs.”

Law then rolled his eyes, but… he didn’t want to admit that he was also curious. He looked down at your chest.

“Try it,” you said, taking his hands and placing them on your body’s chest. “This is crazy.”

Law wanted to yell at you for forcing him to grab your boobs, but… it was rather fascinating.

“I get to live like that, all day every day,” you said. “Wait…”

Then you slapped his hands out of the way and grabbed your own boobs, squeezing. “This is awesome,” you giggled.

“Quit making it weird!” He yelled.

“Okay, okay. Sorry,” you said, removing your hands. “So…”

“Did you forget how to take off your clothes?” He asked, watching you just sit there.

“N-no! I’ve just never done it from this point of view before!”

You carefully took off Law’s signature jeans. Then, you looked down at yourself. Feeling unsure, you pulled off your panties.

Then you screamed, fully this time, seeing your own pussy. “What the hell! It looks like that?!” You cried.

“(Name)! Stop that shit, you’re making this way less sexy than you made it sound!”

Curiously, you reached out and poked at your clit, and Law hissed, eyes widening. Then you slid a finger down the slit, feeling how wet it was. “Aw, you’re wet for me,” you giggled.

You inserted a tattooed finger into your cunt, feeling the ridges along the walls of your hole. Law let out a small moan, face red in embarrassment.

Adding another finger, you fully began fingering your cunt. Law’s hands flew up to grab at your wrist, stopping you. He was breathing heavily and your body’s legs were twitching.

“Stop. It’s too much,” he panted.

“Oh, is it?” You asked. “It’s too much for you but I take it for hours and hours, begging for more every time. You’re such a baby, Law.”

You pulled your hand away, and then pulled his cock out. You stared at it in awe, feeling like your mind was gonna explode.

“This is so weird!” You exclaimed. “This is how it feels to have a boner?!”

“(Name)-ya, just get on with it already,” Law sighed.

“Fine, fine,” you said. Awkwardly trying to line his cock up with your cunt. You teased him by rubbing against it but not sliding in.

“Sure you’ll be able to handle it?” You asked. “You couldn’t even take fifteen seconds of me fingering you.”

“I don’t care anymore,” Law huffed.

“Alright. But don’t act all mad when you can’t do it.”

When the last word left your mouth, you slid his cock into your throbbing cunt, and grabbed onto your hips.

You moaned a little, loving how you squeezed his cock.

Law tried covering his face and biting onto one of your hands to stop himself from moaning.

You tried thrusting, unsure of how exactly you were supposed to do so… since you’d always been on the receiving end. And it wasn’t like you were always watching Law’s hips and studying how it was done.

As you got the hang of it, Law could no longer hide his moans. You could feel your cunt throbbing more, your legs wrapping around his and squeezing you. You tried going faster, and moaned at the sensation.

“Mmm, moan louder, Law. I wanna hear you cry like a little whore,” you said, leaning down to suck on your own breast.

Taking the nipple in your mouth and harshly sucking, Law let out the most lewd moan you’d ever heard from him. You stumbled in your movements, hips twitching at the sound. “Law, I’m close…”

“You better not- ugh- get yourself pregnant,” he muttered in between moans.

“Mmm, but that would be so hot, you getting to feel the way I do when you stuff me with cum. Oh!” you gripped harder at your hips and shoved his cock deep into your cunt, unloading into yourself with a loud moan.

Law yelped, squeezing his eyes shut as he too came, but through your body. You collapsed onto him, still buried inside your cunt.

“How’d it feel?” You asked, a smirk on your face.

“Now I almost feel sorry for you,” he panted. “You take way more than that when I fuck you…”

“Hmm, well, how about next time I make you suck your own cock?” You suggested with a giggle.

“There will not be a next time,” he huffed.

“Aww, but this was so fun,” you whined. “In fact, I wanna stay here… you feel so nice and warm around my cock.”

“Your cock?” He glared at you. He wasn’t actually angry but it was incredibly embarrassing to let you take control like this, and now you were getting cocky.

“Sorry,” you said. “But now I see why you never let me go after one round.”

“Okay, whatever. Change us back. Now.”

Sighing defeatedly, you sat back up and slid his cock away from your cunt, watching his seed spill out. His cock twitched again.

“Umm… how do I do that?” You asked.

Law rolled his eyes. “You should know, you watched me do it.”

“But I’ve still never done it myself!”

“You take the katana and say ‘room’, then thrust it at our bodies and say ‘shambles’,” he instructed.

“Okay…” you took the katana into your hand and did as he said.

And suddenly… now you were underneath him, back in your own body.

“That was easy,” you giggled, trying to get up so you could put your clothes back on.

But Law pushed you back down. “You think I’m letting you get away with that, you little demon?”

Boy, were you in for a punishment…

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

When the idea returned to you, it came at a rather convenient time.

You’d thought about it since that evening, sure. But you were unsure if Law would ever agree to doing it again, so eventually… it slipped your mind.

But then now, you simply couldn’t get it off your mind.

You’d been laying in bed with Law, both of you unable to sleep that particular night. He’d been reading a book, an arm wrapped around you, holding you close to his bare tattooed chest.

He’d been teasing you all day, and now all evening. Throwing you suggestive smirks or subtly winking at you throughout the day, lingering touches, and at one point he’d even smacked your ass as you headed out of a room. Now, his hand that was around you was pinching at your nipple through your tight tank top, and every time you’d whimper he’d let out a faint chuckle, making you even more frustrated.

You couldn’t take it anymore, so you slipped a hand down to your panties, sliding it under and began slowly stroking your folds with one finger, trying to get yourself wet enough to finger yourself.

You thought about that evening. The way Law moaned like a little slut, whining about how it was too much for him to handle when you’d barely touched him (you?).

You moved your finger up just a little to your clit, and began rubbing at the bud of nerves. You let out a soft whine, rolling over just a little, still in Law’s hold.

Surely he’d noticed. He was in no way oblivious to anything. You looked back at him, seeing his cocky smirk on his face. He glanced at you, making eye contact for just a second, before looking back to his book.

Feeling wet enough, you slid two fingers inside yourself, letting out the most lewd, cute moan you possibly could, trying to get Law’s attention.

But he didn’t move.

So you kept your fingers moving, sliding them inside yourself and rubbing your fingertips along your tight walls. Law pinched your nipple again, this time much harder than he was before. You let out another whimper, frustrated that that was all he would do to you, when you wanted so much more.

“Law, please,” you whined.

“What, (Name)-ya?” He was pretending to not notice.

“Law, I need you.”

“For what?” He taunted.

“To satisfy me! You wouldn’t make your girlfriend do it all herself, would you? Leave me all helpless and fingering myself, when I really want you.”

“I wouldn’t put it past me,” he replied.

“Ugh! Law, come on! You’ve been teasing me all day,” you yelled, sliding your fingers out of yourself and moving to sit up, facing him.

“Do something about it, then,” he told you, looking back to his book.

“Fine,” you muttered. Without hesitating, you moved your hand that you’d just been pleasuring yourself with up to his mouth, forcing your still wet fingers inside.

His eyes went wide and he tried cursing at you, but it all sounded muffled due to your fingers. When he shut up and began licking your fingers, sliding his tongue around and down them, lapping up your juices, you nearly came right then and there, letting out a moan at the sight and feeling.

You pulled away after a moment, and when you did you replaced your hand with your lips, kissing him and tasting yourself mixed with his spit.

“That was so hot, Law,” you mumbled against his lips.

“Really?” He set his book aside and put a hand against your head, deepening the kiss.

“Mhm.”

Your legs were trembling as you kneeled on top of him, the dirty sounds of your mouths going straight to your cunt and making you feel like you could cum without any physical touch to it.

You pulled away, grabbing his shoulders to stabilize yourself. “Law, I know you’ll probably punish me again, but I want to try swapping bodies again.”

“Shit, (Name). Don’t you know how…” he trailed off, looking away from you.

“Embarrassing that was? For you? I do, and I would kill to see that again. When I was fingering myself, that was all I could think about, your little whimpers and moans-“

“Alright, stop. I’ll do it,” he said to shut you up.

You let out a delighted hum, removing yourself from his lap and happily getting up to grab kikoku. When you returned to him, you basically shoved the katana into his hand and eagerly waited for him to switch you two.

“Room.”

Your smile grew bigger, unable to contain your excitement.

“Shambles.”

And in a blink, you were now where Law had been laying, holding the katana in your right hand.

Law was on his (or your? You still didn’t know exactly how to refer to this). knees, just as you had been seconds before.

You put kikoku away, and didn’t hesitate for a second to rip the sweatpants Law had on off.

“Remember what I said last time?” You asked him.

He clearly looked unnerved at seeing your voice come from his mouth, but he nodded slowly.

“Tell me,” you said.

Law let out a sigh, looking down. “You said… you wanted me to suck my own cock.”

You giggled, moving to hold his face between your hands, gently squishing your face’s cheeks together. “That’s right, my little whore.”

You placed a kiss on your own lips, and then laid back, taking his cock in your hand and stroking yourself.

“Now come do it,” you told him.

Law slowly moved to get between his own legs, and you could tell he felt absolutely humiliated right now.

“(Name)… I don’t know how to do this.”

“Never sucked dick before?” You teased. “Maybe my body will just naturally know how, I do it for you all the time, after all.”

But he didn’t look reassured.

“Just take a little at a time and breathe through your nose,” you said, patting him on the head.

Hesitantly, Law poked his tongue out and took a small lick at himself.

“Don’t know why I thought there’d be much of a taste…” he mumbled.

“Well you lick my skin, don’t you? It should be like that.”

“I suppose so.” With that he took just the smallest bit of the top into his mouth. He gently sucked, and you let out a loud moan.

“Jeez, (Name). I barely did anything.”

“I know… but I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

“Oh, so now you’re the one who can’t handle it?” He mocked you, grinning. “Then I’ll make you cry like a little bitch.”

Now, he took as much in as he possibly could (for someone who’d never done this before), and licked and sucked with no remorse.

You cried out, twisting his hands into your hair and trying to shove him on deeper without hurting him.

“Law, Law! Feels so good,” you whined.

Feeling confident at his regain of control, Law took his own cock all the way, deepthroating himself at this point. He bobbed his head up and down, trying to mimic your movements from the many times when he’d watched you do this.

“Law, I’m gonna-“

He pulled away without warning, and you groaned in frustration.

“What? Too scared to taste your own cum?!” You asked, slightly upset.

“That’s fucking disgusting,” he said. “It’s not happening.”

“Ugh, I hate you,” you fell back into the pillows, crossing your arms.

Law simply chuckled, and you could feel him moving. But you were still mad, so you didn’t look down at him.

Suddenly, you felt his cock wrapped in something warm… but this wasn’t like when you’d fucked yourself…

Curious, you sat up again and looked down to see what he was doing.

You were surprised to find your own breasts wrapped around his cock, Law trying to move your upper body up and down along his shaft.

“Fuck- Law.”

With each movement up, you felt him just barely take the tip into his mouth, licking at it.

It wasn’t long before you felt like cumming again. His hands resumed their positions within your own hair, and you cried as his body shook, cumming all over your chest, and a little bit onto your face.

Law pulled away, staring down at himself and seeing the cum covering him.

“Now you know how that feels,” you muttered, trying to catch your breath.

Law was curious, and through half-lidded eyes, you watched him take a finger up to your breasts and swipe some of his seed away. He lifted it just in front of your face, staring at it. He wanted a taste, that dirty bastard.

“No, let me do it!” You protested, smacking his hand away and wiping his cum onto your fingers. You desperately wanted to feel him suck on your fingers again.

Instead of forcing yourself in this time, you held a tattooed hand up in front of him, waiting for him to take the fingers into his mouth when he was ready.

It took him a moment, but Law eventually tasted himself, taking a small lick off your finger at first.

“Hmm.”

“Doesn’t it taste good? It’s ‘cause you’re a nice clean man, you know.” You giggled.

Law shot you a confused look, and you giggled some more.

“Want more?”

He hesitated, but ended up taking his fingers into your mouth once again, and you moaned as the feeling you loved so much returned to you. Even though this time it looked like yourself doing it, it was just so hot to watch Law suck on your fingers.

By the time he was done, his cock was hardened again and you were ready to go for another round.

“Should I eat myself out, finger you, or just fuck you right now?” You asked, a menacing grin on your face.

“You deserve to be forced down between your own legs and eat yourself out like a dirty slut,” he responded. “But-“

“You wouldn’t be able to handle that, would you, Law?”

“Shut up.” He muttered.

“Well, okay. How about I just get you all wet, and fuck you? Does that sound ok?”

“Fine.”

So, you slid your panties off your body, leaving him fully nude within your body. Normally, you’d never be turned on to the sight of seeing yourself like this, but knowing that it was really Law in there, you felt very good about it.

You took Law’s left hand and rubbed your clit for a couple minutes, knowing it was the fastest way to get yourself wet. But Law was not used to such a feeling, and he began whining and moaning as soon as you touched it.

“(Name)-ya, please…”

You wanted to moan yourself, loving the way he moaned your name. It was so pathetic and cute.

“(Name)!”

“Okay,” you said, pulling his hand away. “It’s too much for you, I understand. But now…”

You pushed him down onto his back, and pulled your own legs over his shoulders. You felt even more turned on, knowing he was going to feel the sting in your legs as you bent and pushed them while you fucked him.

You took his cock into your hand, and lined it up with your soaked cunt.

“If it’s too much, squeeze my thigh, okay?”

“Whatever,” he grumbled. He clearly hated the position he was in.

And then, you slid into yourself, welcoming the feeling of your walls squeezing down and throbbing on his cock. It was a feeling you’d never get tired of.

You let Law get adjusted for a moment, and then began slamming in and out, the position he was in allowing you to go even deeper than you had last time.

“Mmm, so tight, Law. You’re such a good little slut,” you whimpered.

He moaned and cried, grabbing onto his own arms, unable to get a grip on himself. It was so pleasing to watch, the way his eyes were screwed shut, his mouth wide open as he moaned your name over and over again.

“Fuck, Law, I’m gonna cum again!” You cried.

“(Name)-ya, please… shit.”

You thrusted as deep as you possibly could, feeling your cunt clamp down on his cock and squeezing you so perfectly.

“Fuck, Law!”

Your hips trembled as you came, deep inside of yourself. You kept thrusting, fucking his cum all the way into yourself.

“(Name)-ya, I-“

You felt as your walls squeezed even harder, and Law came around his own cock. As you slowed your thrusts, you could see the mixed cum around his cock, and you couldn’t help but cum just a little bit more, within your own cunt again.

You pulled out, falling back onto the pillows.

“Switch us, now,” Law demanded.

As soon as you regained your breath, you grabbed the katana and did exactly as you had last time.

And then you were now laying on your back, feeling filled up and sensitive. You’d fucked yourself pretty good.

While you were laying back, you had your eyes closed. You had to regain your breath again, being in a different, more fucked-out body.

You hadn’t noticed when Law’s head was pushed down between your legs, his tongue sliding within your folds.

You screamed at the contact, jumping a little and squashing his head with your thighs.

After a moment, Law began smacking your thigh, demanding for you to let go of his head.

When you did, you saw that he was licking up the mixed cum, and then he was crawling on top of you, pushing your mouth open and shoving his tongue into your mouth.

He was feeding you his own cum.

You swallowed it all, sucking it off his tongue and licking within his mouth along his teeth and lips, making sure there wasn’t a drop left.

“Law, that’s so fucking disgusting. Do it again,” you told him.

“No, I figured I’d leave some in there. Maybe this time you’ll get yourself pregnant, hm?”

Your cunt throbbed again. “Fuck, Law! Don’t say shit like that, you asshole!”

He chuckled and put his pants back on, going back to laying in bed with his book.

“You’re not gonna help me?” You whined.

“Fine, if you insist, (name)-ya.”

He took a cloth and wiped up whatever cum had spilled out of your cunt, along with the older cum on your chest and slid your panties back onto you, before handing your tank top back over.

“Better?” Law asked.

“Mhm. Now cuddle me,” you requested.

Law lifted his arm up, and you laid down, head on his chest. His arm fell down around you, and it wasn’t long before you fell asleep to the sound of his heart beating.

[fleetingvow]

Hello, I really loved your writing for Wednesday and was wondering if I could request something.

Reader was hurt badly on the final fight and Wednesday gets worried about her, gets emotional just as she did with Thing. She doesn't leave reader's side until she wakes up and when she does she can't help but hold her because she thought that was it for a moment, and maybe confesses her feelings? You can elaborate it as much as you'd like, I'd just like for that to be the general idea, love some hurt/comfort.

Much love. <3

‘ DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS .

Wednesday Addams x Female Reader.

SYNOPSIS. wednesday addams never cried for anyone, not until she held you fighting for your life, desperately trying to stay alive to return the whispered confession. ( 4.15k words )

NAVIGATION. part one - part two. masterlist.

WARNINGS. major angst. character death ( reader’s ). unproofread. english not being the author’s first language.

NOTE. written in second person’s point of view. another love by tom odell being the angsty essential to produce this fic.

REQUESTED BY. anonymous. thank you for your lovely words, and for trusting my writing to create a perfectly stomach churning plot! do enjoy this work.

LISTEN TO WHILE READING. optional. another love by tom odell.

TAGS. @ryver19 @danysflames

𝗜𝗙 𝗪𝗘𝗗𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗗𝗔𝗬 wasn’t worried about braving the ancient face of Crackstone before, she definitely was now. Not because she was scared of him. It’s because you were the most idiotic person she knew. What were you doing in a battle that you shouldn’t be in? Were you even aware of what you were getting yourself into? She wanted to know what was going through your mind when you marched in the courtyard without a weapon or anything to protect yourself with. Just a glare that wouldn’t do anything.

The fire burning so fierce dancing with the breeze turned slow. Everything seemed too leisure for her liking when she spotted you standing there. It was as if the world had stopped spinning, but it couldn’t possibly now, could it? Xavier was mad enough to try and help, and now you? What were you going to do? Why were you even here?

You weren’t glaring at the pilgrim. You were glaring at her. The blade that was in her possession had shattered and her attention was turned to you. That was the last thing you needed. You hated Wednesday for being the centre of everything because you knew it meant sacrificing so much, even herself.

She used to love seeing you angry and defeated, but not like this. Not this way when you were getting defeated by the monster that stood before her and not her. Not when your hair moved with the wind so slowly as she met your gaze while watching the fire burn in your eyes in the middle of danger. She felt weaker.

You were a vulnerability. A phenomenon in which she, herself, couldn’t even explain.

Paying attention to the movement in your peripheral view, your eyes darted to the figure, slowly coming to the revelation that it was Bianca, in all her grace, standing not so far away from the distracted pilgrim.

You heard a victorious crackle emit from the old man’s mouth, and that’s when you knew. You quickly turned to Wednesday who was trying her best to suppress her noises of struggle. It just made you angrier. Your heart skipped faster in your chest as your mind ran circles in your head, putting it all into shambles that made it difficult for you to think. This anger had neer been felt by you before. It was suffocating, restricting, and it tightened your chest to the point that you almost gasped for air. That’s when you recalled what you came there for.

To help Wednesday put Crackstone back to where he belongs.

You shut your eyes and found yourself a moment before opening them again. When the young Addams thought you had nothing as a weapon, she was wrong. Locking eyes with the siren, you nodded and lifted a hand to reveal the lustrous object from your back. Using your ability, you passed the dagger to the girl who took the blade, understanding the task that she now shouldered.

However, that didn’t provide you much comfort. Wednesday was looking at death straight in the face and your trembling body didn’t stop to just stand around and watch. Your feet dragged you hastily a few feet away from Bianca.

This caught Crackstone’s attention as he slowly turned his head to you, grinning like he faced the Devil in front of him and made a sacrifice for a deal. You couldn’t even describe the disgust and fear you felt as you saw his face fresh from the dead.

“Those who intrude shall join the abomination in the depths of hell!”

You stared at him, narrowing your eyes as you swallowed your spit cautiously to watch his every little move that could be used against you.

What were you doing? You looked stupid! Wednesday’s furrowed eyebrows already said it all. Her heart pounding in her chest almost ripped her open when she saw Crackstone raising the sceptre in his hand, about to conjure such a damage on you. She hated that she couldn’t do anything but look at you, mentally telling you not to do what it is that you’re going to do and run to safety.

You lifted your arm slightly and tried your best to pull the sceptre away, but all it did was drain your energy and create a tension that you couldn’t even control, yourself. You were pulling his source of power, but it seemed as though your telekinetic ability wasn’t enough to do anything. Crackstone was far more powerful. You didn’t stand a chance.

You raised your other hand and conjured an object to hit him in an attempt to distract his attention from the focus he had on his sceptre. He didn’t budge and destroyed it to pieces.

“Enough!” He shouted and with a move of the mace, you were thrown across the courtyard, your back hitting the stone pillars causing you to descend to the ground with an aching body and a sharp grunt.

“Y/N!” It was unrecognisable as to who yelled for your name, but you were tired.

You were shaking extremely now. The statics ringing in your ears became deafening to the point that you didn’t hear what the next thing was. Your vision got blurry, and dark spots started to patch up your vision. You closed your eyelids shut numerously in an attempt to recover, and as you did so, you caught the bits and pieces of what was occurring right in front of you.

Bianca groaned as she toppled on the ground just the same as her. Crackstone looked unfazed as he stood with a stab, the fiery blaze of fire appearing on his back to his lower chest. He turned and soon, it was your turn as you stood. He took the blade to make use of it, but you weren’t having it. Not to Bianca. Not to anyone in that courtyard, except him.

You swiftly got on your feet, ignoring the statics and the migraine that had formed once you stood up. Your limping feet dragged you in front of the siren as you stopped right there with the dagger whipping past the air at lightning speed.

You were getting sick of lifting your hand, but it was needed this time or anyone in this courtyard is dead. You tried to stop the blade from rushing towards you, and for a second, you thought you did.

That was when you caught the smirk on Crackstone’s face. You knew it wasn’t good. So did Bianca. Your eyes widened in fear, but you didn’t have much time to react.

When with that, the blade pierced through your flesh with the sound of the metal cutting through your skin and burying deep in your body as you let out a shortened gasp. With pursed lips, you looked down and saw the dagger on your lower abdomen. The blood was quickly seeping through your clothes, shining under the joined light provided by the moon, the stars, and the fire that Wednesday thought used to burn in your eyes.

Before you completely succumbed to the dizziness was the sight of Crackstone turning to Wednesday. Then, it blurred. All your eyes could gather was the fire getting fiercer in the form of Crackstone’s figure. Was it fire? You didn’t know, but you heard the low monstrous scream that almost made you let out a victorious cry.

But once the final disappearance of his body started in the blaze, it burst into a powerful surge of what his power once was, causing a strong wave that wiped the fire off the courtyard.

You looked at Wednesday who returned the gesture as she glared at you with her sharp narrowed eyes. You plummeted to the ground shortly after with Bianca rushing over.

Wednesday marched forward and pushed the siren aside in haste as she kneeled down next to you. Your breaths were hitching, your hand laid on the dagger, stained with the red hue of your metallic blood. Beads of sweat started forming on your forehead which felt odd to you as you began to feel colder each minute.

“Don’t you dare pull out the knife,” Wednesday’s command made you groan. You could feel the metal in you, and it was the most discomforting sensation.

Wednesday didn’t know how to act or feel. She didn’t even know what to think, but the fact that you laid there on the ground, bleeding out as you trembled made her lose her mind. She couldn’t have that or else she’d lose her composure.

“I’ll call for help,” Bianca proclaimed before running out of the courtyard.

But that wasn’t the end of it all when you and Wednesday’s ears perked up at the sound of a gun cocking in the distance. And lo and behold was Thornhill with a gun in her hand, aimed at the girl who slowly stood up to confront Laurel.

“You brought a gun to a sword fight. It’s probably the first smart decision you’ve made today.”

“I might not get to kill all the outcasts, but at least I get to kill you, Wednesday.”

You groaned and shut your eyes from the stinging pain, your eyes getting tired to keep wide open as yet another fight occurred. Laurel had her gun pointed straight on Wednesday, but it was as if you didn’t feel the pain when a bee appeared followed by Eugene with his bright smile that seemed to crack the tension into two, replacing the delight of the moon to the shine of the sun.

You could’ve exceeded the amount of the stars of thanking him for saving Wednesday, but your breaths were getting shorter, and you knew there and then that this was probably the last time you’ll ever feel your heart beating in your chest.

You swallowed the lump on your throat. No, you can’t cry. Not now. Not here on the ground.

“Eugene, search the school for an emergency medical kit. Make it quick before I dig a grave.”

Wednesday turned to you, not wasting another minute to rush next to you again. She put her hand on your chest to feel the pound of your hope inside. You didn’t like this weak profile of you in front of the girl you so badly wanted to defeat just because you saw a bit of yourself in her.

( Cue the start of the music )

You always hated your reflection, hence why when she attended Nevermore, she had become nothing but a walking mirror yet also an ironic form of what you despised.

She despised you equally. You always gave her that stare she didn’t like. Wednesday found you to be a scuff on the floor she’d walk past on, but you became addicting to defeat that even winning against Bianca had become pointless when she spotted you in the crowd and challenged you in the archery field.

“It hurts,” you mumbled shakily as you tried your best to hold a noise down your throat.

She hated that. She hated that it affected her. Wednesday shouldn’t care for you, not after all the pent up anger she felt when you were around. Not the anger that made her want to stick around you more in order to rub it in your face that she was so much better than you tried to prove yourself to be.

A noise escaped your lips.

That made her close her eyes. She never did that. She wanted to remove the sight of you in front of her, and she thought it was just because you looked so human — weak. Or was it because of the hurt that she felt in her stomach? She has had enough. She wanted cotton to block her ears from your noise. You had been suppressing the noises, but God, this noise was different now. You were suffering, and it made her stomach churn once she noticed that she knew that.

Why would she know that about you?

“Wednesday,” you called, your voice being something she couldn’t get herself to listen to but still tried.

She opened her eyes and clenched her jaw.

“You’re about to cry.” Wednesday remarked dryly, hiding the fact that it made her want to stab her eyes for noticing such a detail. “It’s unnecessary.”

Who was she kidding? She had an arrow that pierced through the flesh of her shoulder and it already stung. What more a stab that she knew what felt like? Especially twisted. It was an electrocution with tenfold the increased voltage on the maimed part of the body. It wasn’t just that. There was more to it than she saw from you now.

You chuckled. “Yeah, I thought that too.”

You didn’t want things to end like this. Wednesday wasn’t a mirror. She was a similarity that you had an opportunity to know and relate to. You had a chance for her to be your friend, but instead of taking that chance, you looked at her like a competition just because you hated the aspect of yourself that you tried to link with her.

Wednesday tensed up when your bloody hand found hers on the dirty ground. Your fingers touching hers making her head spin faster than the Earth on its axis. There was a sensation there. On the spot that your cold hands inflicted upon the place of contact. A slight feeling that caused her to look down at it, her eyes going from anger to something gentle and unexplainable. You were holding her hand. She wanted to process that in her head.

You were holding her hand.

Wednesday wanted to kill after the contact, because the look you had on your face mirrored hers. She knew it wasn’t a good sign.

“Can we pretend like we didn’t try to kill each other for the whole term?” Your voice was barely a voice. The question had become a whisper that only she could hear.

No, no. You weren’t doing this. She didn’t want it. She didn’t need it. The young Addams never asked for it but why were you doing it? God, you were stubborn. She hated you so much!

But you were you. There was nothing she could do about it. You were your own person, and that’s perhaps . . . Wednesday looked at your joined hands once again. It made her feel.

You made her feel.

Every aspect of you made her feel alive.

She thought she’d known thrill and the concept of romance all her life, but she was sure that every bit and piece of what she knew about it could be matched with this — this fluttery feeling in her stomach. The spark crackling on her skin that you were in contact with. Your eyes sending shivers down her spine. This state of you that angered her so much. Her knees shaking from fear of having no one in Nevermore to compete with once again.

Why did she feel this way?

She was supposed to despise you. Wednesday pursed her lips. She looked down at yours. There was a night that she pondered over why the first thing she kept seeing was your lips when she saw you. Then, after that one thought came the billions in her head when she lied still on her cold bed in the middle of the night that would sometimes even last until the light of dawn. She thought it was just because she hated you.

She thought it was just because you provoked such an emotion in her that was far too complicated for her to comprehend. Now, Wednesday wanted to test a theory, but was there even a theory to be tested, or was it the truth?

“I never hated you.”

She heard laughter from you. Was it funny that she said that? Was that statement pointless to you? Did it mean nothing? Wednesday’s eyes narrowed, her eyelashes doing that thing you usually found amusing.

You looked away and focused on the blanket of stars glinting so brightly above you. You let out a breath, “Huh.”

Should you tell her the truth? “Since I’m dying, I think you deserve the truth.”

That made her look up at you again, tearing her gaze away from your hand again. you almost laughed at her if you weren’t so badly injured now.

“I think I never hated you too, Wednesday.”

If an instrument was checking the pounding of her heartbeat, the machine would have gone crazy as the lines came in shambles. It was the same for you, but how would you know? You — why was she staring at you like that?

Why were her eyes the ones glossy now?

“You’re about to cry.” You commented, ignoring the sharp pain that started to become worse now that you thought was like the one before. You didn’t think much of it. Yes, it was painful, but why would you? “It’s unnecessary.”

You gasped at yet another pain. Your hands clutched hers, making her shift in her spot, her fingers squeezing you back.

That didn’t help your already dying heartbeat. There was more to what you said before, but you had to refrain yourself drom embarrassing yourself in front of her just in case this was the last.

And you were sure this was your last.

You vowed never to fall for the traps of love, most especially its romantic form. You saw and experienced many things that you never wanted to look back on ever again. However, you hated how your wall slowly crumbled down for Wednesday who almost shared the same perspective as you, although hers was more glum and grim. Yours was about the matter of love. Hers was about life.

Maybe this similarity was the reason you managed to be close to her. Not that close. Just this close. Just this in which you’d share the peace in front of the quiet lake without saying another word. Just holding each other’s gazes on occasions and looking away, with you clearing your throat and her bumping your shoulder to the point that it would ache later on for no reason. Just stealing glances at certain times while the other was accompanied by another at the Rave’N. Just fighting most of the time. Just acting like nothing happened the next. Just ignoring each other’s presence while looking back when walking past each other in the corridors of Nevermore.

“Y/N?”

You gasped, “I can’t — ” You panted for air again, “Breathe.”

“Don’t speak.” Her trembling hand removed its grip from yours as she stood up, frantic yet graceful when she spotted and obtained the blade she banished Crackstone with on the ground. The girl cut the edge of her long skirt and proceeded to take a long piece, careful not to make her own shorter than it should be.

She then proceeded to kneel down next to you. No, you weren’t leaving her hanging like this. Your truth was barely the truth, and she wnated to hear from you. She badly wanted to hear your voice again in full volume, in that pitch that she always knew.

Wednesday cried for Thing, but God, you? She knew she’d fill an ocean. This couldn’t be happening to her again.

She hated you now. She hated how scared you were making her feel in that moment. Were you even aware of what you were doing to her? She was supposed to be in her best composure, handling this in a graceful way that wouldn’t require her to shake so much, to curse in her head just because you were struggling.

Why did she care?! She cared so much it was too unnecessary, and her eyes were starting to water from this sight of you.

The girl wrapped the cloth around the knife that she couldn’t pull out. She put pressure on the spot but her heart dropped to her stomach the most when a tear escaped your eye.

Wednesday’s eyes widened. She quickly took you by the shoulders and laid your head on her lap in a hurry. Now was the time that she didn’t know what to do the most.

You couldn’t leave her like this.

She couldn’t bear it. She wouldn’t.

She wanted to spend another moment alone in the quiet in front of the lake, staring at your reflections and stealing glances over the water.

She wanted to ponder about you at night, questioning why it was your lips first that she captured when she looked back at you when you passed by each other in the hallways.

She wanted — no, demanded to see your annoying face that kept popping up in her nightmares and daydreams to show up beaming at her, laughing at some stupid joke someone told.

Your life story can’t just end like this.

What was she to do without you? Wednesday could imagine a world where it was just you and her living off the taunts of each other, competing to wind, but enjoying each other’s company.

She envisioned you laying your head on her shoulder after a long exhausting day, ranting to her about how your day went. She could envision herself just nodding, being the same old her that people often thought did not care enough.

Did you care enough?

Because she did. Enough to hold you in her arms, to embarrass herself in front of you.

How the mighty have fallen for the graces of someone like you? You thought.

“If you die on me, I will make history repeat itself just to bring you back and I'll stab you again myself.”

You used what bit of your energy was left to quirk your lips up to form a curve. You liked Wednesday.

It was clearer than the water you occasionally stared at for hours in her company.

“Out of all the people in the world, the ones I share the same blood with, used to tell my secrets to,” you quietly gasped for air to continue, “This, Wednesday Addams . . .”

Your clutch on her arm was starting to loosen as your eyelids started to slowly drop down to meet the darkness.

“This is the only time I feel given a damn about.”

Wednesday’s eyes didn’t know which to focus on. They darted on the dagger, the blood, the cloth, your eyes, your parted lips — “Y/N?” That was the first time her call for someone had a frantic frightened tone.

Your hand on the ground without another sign of movement was a touch of something that amde her feel as if someone had poured acid in her stomach. Her hand made its way to your cheek, not caring whether the blood on her hand got on your face.

Why weren’t you waking up? Why weren’t you opening her eyes and shooting up from the ground to tell her that you were just joking? She didn’t care if it was a fucked up prank, as long as she knew you were still there.

But no, God no, you weren’t.

“Wake up, Y/N.”

She shook you, but there was nothing. She placed two fingers on the side of your neck to check your pulse but she couldn’t get any sign of it.

A tear fell.

Wednesday halted. The girl touched her cheek, wiping the drop of what she vowed never to do again and leisurely examined her finger that shone with the wet surface because of the tear.

There she knew.

Wednesday wished she had realised it before, but no, it took you reaching the end of your own life story before she could even understand.

She knew a bit about you.

She knew you were Y/N and that you used to live in a small home in a small town in Romania where you had a family that pushed you around just because you were an outcast. That you had a gift that none of them could accept, for it was deemed to be witchcraft or that it made them insecure to use as a reason to make you feel small.

She knew you used to have friends who spilled all your secrets that made you fall from your grace. From being at the top down to the six foot level underground.

She knew you had a fling. She knew it didn’t end well. She knew your family put you in Nevermore to get rid of you and find yourself.

She knew that you cried yourself to sleep, knew that you believed that no one cared.

She knew what was going on in the back of your mind when you wiped away your tears in front of the lake.

Wednesday just wished she never looked away when she saw who you were. She wished she never resisted what it was that she felt.

Because what you went through? She knew it was that much of a cut and the stab that Crackstone had done to you was the thousandth.

Or maybe it was the words that were left unsaid?

AUTHOR’S NOTE. part two will be coming up soon! this will be edited tomorrow since it’s so late already and i have to wake up in about four hours again. if you want to get tagged for the next part, just leave a comment. thank you!

[oharaslove]

HI LOVIEESS!! Hope you enjoy this preview of my first series!! For some reason I love the concept of soulmates (bwoah, some reason, I know why, but let's stay mysterious for a while, haha), so I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it and thinking about it.

word count: 900 summary: What happens when someone who believes no one can love him meets a person who only desires to love and be loved? disclaimer: All the events of this story happen after Spiderman Across the SpiderVerse (more info in Chapter 1) warnings: MiguelxSpider!Reader (also latina), soulmates, eventual smut? (still debating this, not because I don't want to, but my abilities to do so), eventual angst, fluff, injuries, talks about death (I'll update as I go on)

Also, I'll be putting songs in some Chapters, or all of them if I can find music that I find fitting (Even though I am trying to stick to Sleep Token). Anyway, the song to start it all:

<Masterlist>

𝙋𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬

Earth-928B

Spiderman 2099, Miguel O’hara, the leader of the SpiderSociety, one half of a whole. Nobody knows it, but he possesses an indelible mark in his body. For many, only a simple birthmark, for him, a constant reminder that there is someone out there who is his supposedly other half. The idea so stupid he stopped thinking about it, constantly at least, after he learned the truth about his biological father, Tyler Stone. 

In this Earth, in the year 2099, equal to the downfall of the “heroic age” where there were lots of superheroes, it was also the debacle of soulmates. There was an era where everyone was destined to meet the “love of their lives” and live happily ever after. Each person was assigned a match at birth, that was supposed to be their half, together being and feeling complete, represented by a distinctive mark. Only the children of soulmates could posses this “power” or destiny, or as Miguel liked to call it, a curse. 

As time went by, the people of Nueva York and all Earth-928B grew tired of waiting for that special person, and as a consequence soulmates started to disappear. For Miguel’s disgrace, Conchata and Tyler Stone were soulmates, which is part of the reason why he hates them so much. 

The mere idea of having someone destined to be with him repulsed him. He isn’t opposed to having a family, hence why he took the other Miguel’s place, but after losing Gabriella, he doesn’t trust himself. He isn’t capable of loving again, trusting someone, or so he thinks. 

There isn’t a reason why he thinks the universe (or universes) would give him someone to love him unconditionally. Miguel thinks that if his soulmate really exists, they will be like his mother and Tyler, destined to be apart, a love that never was supposed to happen, it would be a mistake, like HE is, in his mind.

Furthermore, he is Spiderman, he has a duty. Not only does he have to keep Nueva York safe, but also prevent the Multiverse from becoming shambles.  There is no time to care for someone, there is no time for love. “With great power comes great guilt”, a phrase he will never let down. He knows what he has to do, he is aware of the power he possesses. There is no time to mess around, and there is definitely not a second a day that he can waste trying to find someone who would, NO, will definitely hate him, doesn’t matter if they were bonded together or not. 

Even though he tells himself this every sleepless night, there is always a part of his heart or mind that yearns for comfort, for love, or at least, someone who can understand him. He knows it is impossible, or at the very best, improbable, given the fact that his so-called soulmate is probably only a regular human, so she will never understand, but deep in his consciousness, there is hope. Everytime he saves someone he believes he is a step closer, but there is always disappointment. So he drowns himself with work, trying to forget, trying to erase the idea that he was born to belong to someone, but instead fate gifted him with loneliness on this Earth, and in many others. 

Earth - 129

Y/n Y/Ln, the only Spiderwoman of Earth-129, the other half of a whole soul. Since you have memory, everyone has told you how important the weird shaped mark you had in your body was. It meant you had a soulmate, like almost everyone in your universe. Soulmates in your universe were sacred, as in Miguel’s, only children of soulmates could possess soulmates, but as the vast majority married and had kids with their own, most people have them. 

Obviously, your parents were each other’s soulmates, and you had the opportunity to hear how much they cared and loved each other. As you were growing up, you couldn’t wait to meet your other half, the person who was supposed to understand you like no other, to love you unconditionally. 

When you were born, unfortunately, your mother died, which caused your dad great pain. In your Earth, soulmates can feel each other’s pain and strong emotions, so your father felt how your mom slipped out of his grasp. He had hope they would leave this life together, as he didn’t know life without her, but fate had other plans. 

Even though this broke your heart, you never stopped looking for your soulmate, and your father never stopped encouraging you.

Now, in your twenties, 28 to be precise, everyone your age you know has met their soulmate. Friends, cousins, everyone!. Your friend was worried for you, he even started to think that something bad happened to your soulmate, because of the weird shape your mark has, but you still have hope. 

You’ve never been with anyone, so you don’t know how love feels, well, romantic love, but you know you have a lot to give. You can’t wait for the day you meet him. Every time you save someone during your patrols, you hope that it gets you closer to getting to know your soulmate. But you haven’t had luck yet. You only wish for your friend to be wrong, and your soulmate is somewhere on this Earth.  One of these days, you'll meet him, you feel it.

<Chapter 1>

Well, he isn’t on your Earth, is it darling?

Hope you liked it!! Let me know what you think!!

TAGS:

@oscarissac2099 @cupcakeinat0r @greensagephase

[firstdivisiongirl]

Headcanon to Luffy, Ace and Buggy with a female s/o who has a devil fruit that gives the ability to copy others devil fruit powers, sometimes, she likes to use it to do a prank on the crew.

Hi old friend.  Happy to see you again.  This was a really fun request. I hope you enjoy!

When You Copy Their Devil Fruit

Luffy:

Luffy’s girlfriend would definitely be a prankster.

And your Devil fruit, the Copy copy fruit, that allows you to copy other Devil fruits that you’ve seen helps in your schemes.

Sometimes you’ll use his and grab stuff when he’s not looking.

You’ll shamble things out of the room.

You did that with Zoro’s swords once.

Never again

You’ll chop-chop fruit (yes I’m using it as a verb, just go with it) your hand off and leave it in the fridge for Sanji to find.

One time you switched everyone’s personalities.

Zoro and Sanji’s were the funniest. Ace:

Oh Ace.

It’s all his fault.

He taught you how to be good at pranking.  

When you ate a Devil fruit that allowed you to copy the ability of anyone you ever touched, it was bad for them.

You use his power to catch Thatch’s hair on fire.

He still thinks it’s Ace to this day!!!

Sometimes you’ll make equipment in Marco’s office shake.

He thinks his office is haunted.

You try to use other Devil fruits on Ace, but he knows all your little tricks.

Except when he falls asleep during a meal.

Then you use Marco’s fruit and fly him to weird places on the ship.

And don’t even think about pranking Pops!

Buggy:

He loves how flashy you are.

Especially when it comes to pranks!

You never prank him.

He’s too flashy to be fooled by little pranks.

As his loyal girlfriend, you respect him and don’t prank him.

But everyone else is getting pranked.

A lot.

Like Luffy’s, your fruit allows you to copy other Devil fruits that you’ve seen

You don’t like to use them all.

You mainly use Buggy’s and Law’s

Those are the flashiest

You’re shambling people’s stuff around.

You’re switching personalities

But the flashiest was when you used the chop chop fruit and put your head on the dinner table before anyone came.

It was so flashy

Did I say flashy too much? Lol

Please do not copy, modify, translate, or repost my writing on other platforms. Comments, reblogs or likes are highly appreciated!

[iamnot-crazy]

Slight of Hands

Summary: A woman snuck her way onto the polar tang by tricking Shachi and Penguin but Law is quick to realize her antics.

A/N: idk I thought this was fun to write but may or may not continue it later 🤷🏼‍♀️ but if i do it will probably switch to 2nd POV. I was listening to the song Mine by Christina Perri when writing this and wanted a very flirty and sly vibe from this character.

Chapter 2

----

Law watched as his two closest crewmates, Shachi and Penguin, staggered to the Polar Tang dragging a beautiful woman beside them. They were full of giggles, waving their hands around as they introduced their sub.

Law's jaw clenched at the actions of his drunken crewmates claiming the sub as their own. When the two spotted the man on the deck, they ran up to him. "And thissss is our first mate Lawwww," Shachi announced, stumbling over his words. Law slapped the hand off his shoulder and glared at his crewmate.

Penguin leaned to his ear. "Captain, please go along. We are trying to impress her."

Law rolled his eyes before looking at the woman they were referring to. She stood tall and clearly not as drunk as the two who dragged her to this ship. Law smirked when he noticed a glint in her eyes, a familiar look. Most women with an innocent facade wouldn't come close to a pirate ship, but Law knew she had an ulterior motive.

The two boys jumped off Law and up to the woman who waited patiently. Excitedly, she followed behind as they started their tour of the sub. Law watched carefully, trailing them just out of earshot. As the three made their way through, Law smirked, proven right by the woman pocketing anything of value they passed.

When they finally left the sub, the woman left with a large, successful grin, waving goodbye to the boys who whined for her to stay.

Law sat on a crate just outside of his sub, a wide shit-eating grin plastered on his face. "So, how long have you been hustling them?" He asked with a snicker.

The woman snapped in his direction, her innocent expression falling and twisting into an evil smirk as her stance relaxed. "About three hours," she laughed. "I will admit, Law, I did need to get a few more drinks in your crew than I thought I would need."

Law stood up. "So you know who I am." He glared at her and she shrugged. "Either way, you might have fooled my crew, but not me." He gestured to her pockets. She feigned surprise, throwing her hands in her pockets only to pull out grains of rice. Law smirked. This whole time he had been using his Shambles ability to switch the valuables she stole with rice of equal weight.

Law watched her expression, hoping to see her look defeated. However, it never came. She began to laugh. "Ah, Law, if only that was what I was after!" She pulled out a Den Den Mushi and it flashed in his face, disorienting him.

Law rubbed his eyes before looking up to see the woman gone. His amused face dropped to frustration. "Shachi! Penguin!" He yelled. The two poked their heads over the deck, "You brought a damn Marine spy on the sub!" The two immediately started shrinking away from his glare.

Law used his power to transport the two to the ground in front of him where they collapsed on each other. "Go fix it!" He yelled, scaring the two to their feet and running down the street.

A laugh echoed from an alley across the way. "Is that what you think I am?"

Law reached for his Kikoku pulling it out of its scabbard. The woman leaned on the wall of the alley, "I guess your not too far off though." She laughed and his head began to swim with theories on who the woman worked for.

She spun around to walk away but Law shambled himself in front of her stopping her in her tracks. Instead of jumping back from the threatening man she leans towards him. She brushed her hand over his cheek. "You're very cute when you're threatened." She laughs confusing Law before she dances around him and kicks him in the back.

Law falls forward cursing himself for allowing her to sneak by him. He whipped around to find her gone again. A whistle from above him drew his attention to the roof of the building where the woman waved at him with a grin.

Law clenched his jaw before transporting himself to the roof behind her. She jumped up and started to balance on the edge. "Who do you work for?" Law questioned.

"Aw look at you finally asking the real questions." she laughed, "Wait hold that look!" she pulled out her snail and snapped another photo blinding him. Law rubbed his eyes and he heard her laugh echo around him, "Oh that's a keeper, you look like a wet cat."

The veins on Law's forehead began to throb with his anger. "Scaple!" he shouted pointing in the direction he last heard the womans voice.

"op you missed." she taunted as Law regained his vision and his eyes danced around the roof unable to find the woman. "Thanks for the information Trafalgar D. Water Law." the voice echoed.

The name she voiced ranged through Law's ears. He has only told a few people his full name how did she find it? His thoughts spiraled and his vision grew red.

"Tack!"

Everything around the roof that was inside his 'room' began to float. The woman yiped as she was pulled into the air off the porched she jumped down to.

"Scaple!"

Law pointed his sword at her chest and her heart popped out of her chest, in a blue cube. The woman tried to grab her heart back but was held in place in the air as the heart floated into Law's hand.

As soon as the heart landed in his hand he dropped everything and the woman landed on the roof. She landed with a thud and a groan reaching for the new whole in her chest. "What the hell!" she shouted at the man who stood triamplely above her.

"Where did you learn that name." he growled.

The woman tsk, "I won't tell." Law looked down at her angrily before squeezing the heart slightly causing the woman to scream in pain and collapse to the ground. She looked up and snarled at the man, "I've been doing my research."

Law frowned not liking the answer and squeezing the heart again, "Where?!" he growled.

The woman screamed again, "Flevance records!" she shouted and collapsed in relief from Law releasing her heart. She looked up with pleading eyes clutching her chest.

The man loomed over her with daggers in his eyes. With a flick of his wrist, the woman was knocked out collapsing to the roof in a restful manner.

---

Next Chapter ->

---

A/N: Wanna read more of my work check out my MasterList

[achaotichuman]

Okay i know I just sent an ask but pls HEAR ME OUT🤚🏽

Imagine....Tamlin at his lowest right? Crap has hit the fan, he's feeling awful. He finds this baby toddler, who's parents couldn't afford to take care of her because...the court is in shambles which means 1-economy is crap 2-its not a safe place to live in, without a leader, the country is basically a hazard

He feels bad but like, he can't even take care of himself so how is he going to take care of a TODDLER, which is arguably one of the worst stages for children. So he just decides to feed her, and you know, give her clothes and a shelter. The Manor is literally in shambles and Tamlin is a hermit half the time so he's only going to see her what, once a day to you know, make sure she's alive?

But you know what they say, give a stray food and they'll keep coming back. The girl gets attached and she starts yapping all the time whenever he comes to meet her, at first Tamlin was surprised because he's used to literally everyone treating him like either broken China or the most horrible monster, not a normal male. So little by little they get closer. And she kind of fixes him in a way.

(I'm so sorry If this made no sense my first language isn't English and its so late rn😭. Ily🫶🏾)

Helloo!!

Don't ever hesitate to send me an ask, I love them, send me a thousand a day I will read them all!

Okay, I have to have a moment, because I love this fic idea so much. This is frankly beautiful and has the potential to be so angsty.

I love fics that explore Tamlin's internal monologue and showcase the image he has of himself, and I think this absolutely has the potential to do so. One of my favorite things to write about is the character's internal conflict and showing how what they think of themselves differs from how the world views them.

And this would be so perfectly encapsulated with the fresh perspective of the toddler. A little kid who only sees the kindness of a big adult giving them love and affection when they have just had that removed by their parents abandoning them. They are too young to understand complex ideas, so they don't understand that they have been abandoned or why, they don't understand how Tamlin is the High lord or what he's done before. They just see this parental figure and understand that they are giving them love.

Take that perspective and put it next to Tamlin's image of himself. How he is filled with self-loathing and feelings of unworthiness. Riddled with guilt for what he's done and thinking there is no one in the world who doesn't hate his guts, and you have a beautiful contrast that has the ability to turn into Tamlin slowly seeing that there is more to him that just his past actions and slowly started to rebuild himself, along with that his Court.

This is truly a beautiful idea, I absolutely adore fics that explore Tamlin learning to understand and heal himself. And having dad Tamlin fluff is always a bonus.

Thank you for the ask!! I really enjoyed this one!!

[hamliet]

Genderbending Sophie

tldr hamliet watches Bridgerton for the vibes and the fandom dissolves into shambles and now I'm mad at the horrible things people are saying with their full chest (on both sides, but definitely one more than the other) so I'm going to write about it.

I actually have some criticisms of the Michael/Michaela change. And not all criticism of this is homophobic in nature. My main one is that Michael's personality is going to be extremely hard to make work as Michaela in the established world of Bridgerton, what with its misogyny as kinda a major plot point in every single female character’s storyline so far. Michael’s “merry rake” personality makes him the character I personally saw as least fitting for a gender switch.

That said, I am interested to see what they do with this switch—maybe Michaela will be a “fallen woman” or something of the sort. And while I am sad about losing the infertility plotline, I do think there are other ways to incorporate it. Yet it is a new story, so fans who are disappointed are allowed to express that.

But I’ve long been a proponent of genderbending Sophie, or at least having gender-nonconforming Sophie, both of which seem entirely possible. Benedict’s story works so well with queer subtext—the fact that to be with Sophie, he has to literally choose to leave society in other to be with her and retreats to the country so they can live happily because society will never accept them, and he chooses not to need that acceptance—all of this works really well with a gay love interest. And a gay Cinderella story would be a fun twist.

Yes, in the novel Sophie's role as an illegitimate child and servant girl does play a significant role, but I don't think it plays a role we don't already see in the series. The main issue of Sophie's societal rejection is class, not her gender (though that exacerbates it). Being queer would also potentially exacerbate this, albeit in a different way.

It's also worth noting that lesbian relationships were never explicitly illegal in England. Male homosexuality, however, was very much illegal. Sorry, but I can definitely see this being an interesting aspect to explore. A lot of plot points for Sophie's story easily adapt to this storyline with subtext that works even in today's world (being attacked by strong men who see a weak opponent? being arrested for grasping at happiness when you can find it?), forcing the world of Bridgerton to confront this head on in a way that echoes through the misogyny text of literally every other Bridgerton story.

And that said, I do think it's valid for people to want female!Sophie and to be disappointed if she is genderbent without being homophobic. Because it would be a different story. (I for one really don't want them to give Eloise a female love interest.) But...

The sheer vitriol, the silencing of any opinion that disagrees, the TERF talking points about how ciswomen's perspectives are being erased? Girl, get outta here with that. There are literally SO many ciswomen characters on this show whose struggles with how their genders are perceived have been explored and will be.

Daphne, whose gender-induced ignorance about sex leads to her committing assault (not that the show handled this remotely well). Mary Sharma, who had to flee society after marrying a poor man. Edwina, who is only accepted by her grandparents if she marries well. Kate, who pursues happiness for her sister at the expense of herself, because she is already a class outsider. Violet, who begs Antony to tell the doctor to listen to her when he's told to choose mother or child to save in childbirth. Penelope, who struggles with balancing her passion with her prospects for the future. Prudence and Philippa, whose wellbeings reside in their abilities to bear sons. Portia, who schemes to scam the ton in order to save her daughters and herself. Cressida, whose own internalized misogyny and helplessness leads to her inflicting it on others. Eloise, who is resentful of having no options. Francesca and Michaela's stories will certainly address this. Marina, who had to marry someone she doesn't love. If we get them, Lucy, Hermione, and Hyacinth's stories will also tie into this.

So don't you dare say that ciswomen and their struggles are being erased.

And that's really something that's bothering me--that people who have genuine questions or disappointments about any gender swapping are lumped in with the loud, screaming mobs that are thinly veiling their homophobia (and in this case racism). Many of them are being respectful and don't deserve to be accused of something so serious.

Yet the reason for others being extremely kneejerk defensive is a because most of the talking points I've seen are TERF-related or homophobic, as in they only want to see suffering for gay people and can't fathom them having a happy ending in Regency England. When while there are challenges, they absolutely can, especially in a world as haphazard and vibey and escapist as Bridgerton's. Like if you're watching for deep plot and themes I don't know what to tell you.

Also, the books will always exist. If you love Michael or Sophie (if they change her story), the book is still there for you to love. They're not erasing it and saying you can never prefer it or read it again. And you can be disappointed and express that in a way that isn't God-awful.

Lastly, the way people talk about the queer showrunner (who is a ciswoman herself) is kind of horrifying. She's writing "self insert fanfic," she should "know her place," she's ruining everything--y'all sound like The Fandom Menace. Maybe consider not insulting a queer woman in a way that implies she's overstepping, and keep it to the plot changes and workability thereof? And again, you can have criticisms of how she ran the show--I have writing issues with season 3 (and 1 actually)--but why do you need to make it a personal attack on her as a human being?

Anyway, popular franchise has toxic fanbase, and water is wet.

[no-name-blu]

A thought. John turning evil by some entity promising him a way to protect his friends and Melissa. But he’s just doing the right thing g but the wrong way

When they used to be Welcome Home OCs, that's literally John's plot in my AU, Gameshow Host! Wally XD

But it's more of a fun side plot that can be taken out/ignored. This plot shows more on what the real world is like, how the cult fans of the show are formed, and also shows what happens to the winners of the gameshow. Because according to Wally, they usually turn into a threat to Humanity.

Here's an old comic that I never finished, glad it gets to see the light of day now :D

You can get their lore explanation down here!

I figured to reveal it since they're not Welcome Home OCs anymore and I'm not gonna draw all of this

CW: VIOLENCE AND CHARACTER DEATH, A LOT OF READING

Melissa, John, Briella (My OCs) and Sunny (that bird character), are a friend group together. Briella was the very first contestant of the show and dies, making Melissa wanting to investigate it and she's been non stop working about it.

And then, maybe 3-6 months later? idk, John got picked to be the contestant and won, so he asked his prize to have the ability to help Melissa. So Home gave John this opportunity to have a tour in the studio with Wally. So the day that happened, Wally showed him around, the problem with foreign objects going to the studio, it starts to deteriorate, especially for one's sanity. John eventually runs off Wally's tour and try to find more secrets in the studio just to accidentally found the void where Home resides in. His brain did not recover from seeing Home, he doesn't remember what happens after that. But John got Home's powers now YIPEEEE

Also his mind is in shambles in a way it's like an "enlightenment" to him. He sees it like the show is actually a good thing, weeding out the evil in the world. And he wanted to help more than anything.

John finds more people to see this show the way he sees it. He somehow got Melissa convinced too (old idea was that he can do hypnotism) When he tried to convince Sunny, he disagreed, leading to John to think he's evil and such, ended up killing him. Both the idiotic and crazy couple basically going on a killing spree to form a cult fan club of the show :D Honestly, imagine JD and Veronica from Heathers, but they're both JD. They're what killed the dinosaurs, they're the asteroids that's overdue /lyr

Eventuallyyy Melissa starts to snaps out of it, telling John she doesn't want to do this anymore, noticed Home has been watching them and she wants to make a deal with him. Home says something like "make one big sacrifice, and I'll give you what you wish for" Not very helpful but still she took the deal. Then the comic above is what's next. After that, they fought.

John was about to kill her but held back and gave Melissa a chance to fight back, so she starts punching, beats him up until the marionette puppet stops being alive.

Somehow the result of this made Home gave Melissa her own powers with the glowing eyes and Home's pupils too. Basically saying, now she serves for Home and that she's also gonna go crazy, like what had happened to John.

But Melissa didn't take over the cult, that'll be someone else. What she did is help Wally find a suitable contestant for the episode.

This plot probably got some holes and not that fleshed out since I stopped writing into it. It was fun tho :D

If you wanna know the other nickel, it's their Reboot AU lore. John was also cray cray for a different reason.

[pullakori]

Revive cherik 2024

Day 11. AU 

Stardew Valley AU

This one has been on my mind for ages and while my life is violently beating me down and I have no energy or time to write an actual fic, I wanted to share this one nevertheless.

There are endless possibilities how this could go, but these are the two I've had.

1. Charles as the farmer.

Kurt had taken the charge of Brian Xavier's company when he had died, turning it into a souless corporation, where Charles now works, but has no real power over. He is sick of Kurt's treatment of him and all the pretencious people who try to get close to him just to gain something. The frustration of the situation and the backstab world of business world makes him seek for an out. He finds  out that there is a farm that his grandfather had left for Brian and which had then been passed to him. So, he decides to leave the company and head towards Stardew Valley (Genosha Valley? Maybe not X'D)

The farm is in shambles, but Charles is not too defeated and starts to fix everything up slowly but surely. He meets the people who live in the town and most of them are happy to welcome him to the Valley and are encouraging of his efforts to start his farm. But when Charles meets Erik, the local blacksmith, when he brings most of his tools for a fixing, the other man is not too impressed. He fixes the tools, it's his job after all, but doesn't think that Charles, a rich city boy, will last even to the end of the year.

Well, Charles is ready to prove Erik wrong and works twice as hard as he had before. The beginning is rough, he knows next to nothing about agriculture, but he is if nothing else but stubborn and slowly learns and succeeds to turn the farm back to it's former glory. And maybe he also develops feelings towards Erik along the way. And the blacksmith also learns that there was more to Charles than he thought in the beginning.

2. Erik as the farmer

Erik is working for Shaw with minimum wage and it's slowly sucking his life out of him. He hates everything about his work, his coworkers, his boss and his current life. After one late night at work he finds a letter from his mother who passed away years ago. It tells him about a farm that belonged to her grandparents and his mother had planned to move there too, but her health made it impossible. But maybe Erik could find a nice life there. Erik hadn't payed too much attention to the farm mentioned in his mother's will, but now... It sounds just what he needs. So with a huge middlefinger, he leaves Shaw's company and heads to the farm.

It's in a bad condition, but Erik is ready to work hard for it and this time, the work feels actually meaningfull and at the end of the day he doesn't feel like he is slowly suffocating. The townspeople are pleasant too, if a bit nosy. Especially Charles, the teacher of the town, who lives in a trailer with his step brother. But as Eriks first crops grow, so do his feelings for the other man as they spend more and more time together. And suddenly Erik notices how he has become a part of the community.

Nevertheless who is the farmer, the end conflict would be:

The valley life is good and Charles/Erik has found a community there, where people care about each other and are like a one big family. Everything is fine, until Kurt's/Shaw's company arrives to the valley and threathens to change everything for the worse (capitalism, you know). Charles/Erik has to face the life they had left behind to save their newfound family. But this time, they don't have to do it alone.

And there is so much ability to customise this AU!

- Which x-men character is which stardew valley character (Even Erik and Charles don't have to be the ones I chose here. Erik could also be a struggling writer living in a cabin on the beach or a shopkeeper who is having a rivarly with Kurt's megamart. Charles in turn could also be a researcher, living with his sister's family near the mountains or a doctor, who has to patch Erik back together after a monster attack in the mines.)

- If you want a kid fic, you can make either Erik or Charles or both single fathers and have all or some of their kids there too.

- Could be an AU with or without powers. I usually prefer powered AUs myself so that's what I was thinking while planning this. But not a necessity.

- Would most likely end up as quite a fluffy fic, but there is also room for hurt/comfort for example.

[luna-andra]

The Shadows Return | Simon 'Ghost' Riley x OC Retired AU | Chapter 4: Breathe

Author's Note: I'm off of hiatus! 🎉 I'm already 3k words deep into chapter 5, so that should be coming out soon. Here's to writing more in 2024 (if anyone still cares about this fic lol) 😁

Word count: 6.2k

Content warning: slow burn, eventual smut, 18+ only, fluff, mentions of mental health

Chapter 1 to start from the beginning. Next chapter

It in fact did not hold. Even worse, it happened within a couple of days. The cherry on top? Andra was unaware as she sat curled up with the book Ghost had pulled off her bookshelf. She was revisiting the story, with a flush that crept up on her face, radiating the apples of her cheeks. The chances of her losing all ability to sit there without so much of a hue of red on her face would be dead in the water. And imagining Ghost’s voice narrating the male’s dialogue? No shot she would be alive after hearing him whisper that shit in her ear. 

Sammy’s frantic bark snatched her out of the shameful fantasy, warning her that something was awry outside. Andra plopped her book down without a second thought, slipping a finger through the window blinds to find her chickens free-roaming outside the pen. “Shit.” She grabbed the cream-colored cardigan from the back of the couch and threw it on and slipped her feet in some easy access shoes, darting outside to go scoop up each chicken. One by one, she stuffed them back into the cozy chicken coop where they would be on lockdown, muttering profanities and curses under her breath. 

All of them went willingly and without so much of a fight. Except for the broody hen, Helen. “Cut it out!” Andra hisses as she winced at the peck of her angry little beak. Her feathers stopped flapping frantically as she was shoved into the coop, and Andra swore she received a side eye from the poultry. She did a head count, not seeing any other chickens in the vicinity. There was a rooster missing. “Dammit, Ted…” Andra jogged around the perimeter of her house, followed up with the barn, the enclosure a couple of more times, and lastly the patches of crops, weaving in and out of the stalks of summer produce, on the hunt for that damn rooster. The tracks of chicken prints were too sporadic, too many chickens have toddled around for her to notice any wandering prints veering off in a different direction. Or maybe she just sucked at following tracks. 

At this point she checked every area nearby seven times over. Her throat tightened, eyes burning as she was on the verge of tears. Andra thought of every scenario, the worst including a wild animal finding the rooster and making a meal of him. She cared deeply for her animals. It pained her to think about finding a mangled, poultry corpse in its wake. 

Andra wiped her teary eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan and shambled back inside. Her phone sat next to the book she abandoned, and she went to pick it up to make a phone call. The line rang once, twice, thrice. It forwarded to voicemail. 

“Ghost, it’s me.” Her voice quivered. She cleared her throat to gain composure. “I’m alright, but my chickens got loose and one is missing. Thought I’d give you a heads up if you find one wandering the road or jumped your fence… okay, sorry to bother you.” Andra hung up after leaving the message, and let out a leaden sigh as she sunk into her couch. Sammy senses her distress and provided comfort with a nudge of her nose against her elbow, her big brown eyes looking up to Andra. 

He called it, too. She replayed Ghost telling her, if the chickens get smart, they’ll breach it. Her chickens have half of a brain cell, collectively shared amongst each other. She never expected it to actually happen. She nearly raised those chickens after they hatched, when they were able to be separated from the flock of the breeder she bought from. They were the first farm animals she had ever owned, spending so much time researching before and after owning them, learning their personalities and behaviors. Andra wanted to continue her search, through the backwoods of her property or across the street in the overbrush of weeds and trees, but it felt like it would be too unsafe to go out there without some form of self-defense. So, she curled up into herself on the couch, hands concealing her face and catching the tears falling from her burning eyes.

----- 

Ghost was hit with a wave of uncomfortable heat as he walked out of the psychiatrist’s office. Something else to aggravate the growing headache he seemed to get after the waste of the one-hour session he spent with Dr. Smith. He believed that Ghost made some sort of progress this time around. Why did he have to go and open his mouth about things?  

”Simon, good to see you return.” Dr. Smith always greeted Ghost with the same salutation at every appointment, whether it was genuine or not, Ghost didn’t care. He was probably just relieved that he returned instead of eating one of his own bullets. “What’s new?”  

Ghost’s scowl remained on the clock relentlessly ticking in the back of the room until he decided to direct his attention to his doctor. “Not sleeping well.”  

“Is it worse than the last time we discussed?” He asked with a professional tone. 

Ghost gave a stern nod. “Getting less hours.” He knew the next question that was going to be asked. “Even with the meds, I have been compliant.” 

Doc took a moment to scribble his notes. “What’s changed?” He looked up to meet Ghost’s face sincerely.  

“Took on another project at the shop. Waiting on the parts to come in, but I have been inspecting the rest of the truck to see what else I can patch up to make sure it doesn’t come back too soon.”  

The conversation veered to details about the truck, Ghost’s shoulders relaxed the more he droned on about the project. It was sometimes a relief to discuss work with other people than Soap and the guys at the shop. He was reluctant to admit that he found a kernel of camaraderie with Dr. Smith upon discovering he was a veteran as well. Ghost cared enough to learn about what he did with his time; a mechanical engineer that served and ducked out once his years were up. It sounded like he mildly enjoyed what he did, retiring so he could pursue a different career and took advantage of the education benefits. Smart man. Possibly something Ghost should have done but was too arrogant and young when he had first enlisted back in 2001. 

Dr. Smith pushed his bifocals up the bridge of his nose with a finger. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you so invested in a project before.” 

Shit. Ghost fell for the tactic. He let out an exhale as he leaned back in the cushy chair, turning away. “It’s for my neighbor.” 

The sounds of pen scratching against paper filled the silence. “Never heard you talk about your neighbor, or anyone else besides your old mates for that matter.” 

“Her truck breaking down is the reason why we met.” Ghost explained with a tension in his jaw.  

“Is she part of the reason for your loss of sleep?” 

Ghost muttered under his breath, “Christ.” He sat up in his chair and rolled his neck. “This is starting to feel more like a chat I would have with Johnny over drinks rather than a psych appointment.” 

Dr. Smith laid his pen flat on his yellow notepad. “It might not be ground breaking work we are doing here, but you managed to tell me more than you have in the past three sessions we have had.” He got up and walked behind his desk, retrieving a prescription pad from a drawer, and started writing. “If you want, I can up the dose or we can keep it the same and I’ll send you on your way with a refill.” 

There was a relief that came over Ghost. “Let’s keep it the same.” He didn’t want to talk about Andra anymore, and thankfully it was obvious to Dr. Smith. 

“Here we are.” Dr. Smith handed Ghost the white slip of paper with awful chicken scratch. “Keep looking for that humanity, Simon. It’s in there.” 

The truck took an uncomfortable amount of time to cool down. His shirt stuck to his body, increasing his irritation. Might as well start driving to the shop, it’s not gonna get any better. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and felt a haptic vibration in his hand. 

One missed call. 

From Andra. 

Ghost, it’s me. The adrenaline dump flooded his veins. She sounded upset and in distress. He’s never heard her on the verge of tears before, it was like a claw punched a hole in his chest and used his heart as a stress relief toy. Whoever, whatever made her this upset was high on his priority list to handle.  

He had to replay the message another time, realizing the rest was muffled out and ignored after the first three words. I’m alright, but my chickens got loose and one of them is missing. “Christ, woman...” Ghost let out a breath that he was holding in. What a way to start a voicemail, making him think the worst that could have possibly happened. She must have noticed it too because her next words sounded more level-headed.  

He killed the line with the voicemail inbox and dialed the auto shop. “Rus, I gotta call out for the day. I’ll make up my hours, oh and let Mr. Caldwell know his vehicle will be ready tomorrow afternoon, I’ll be there for his pickup.”  

There was no fuss about Ghost calling in on short notice. He was the one person in the shop that the supervisor didn’t have to worry about. Much to his chagrin, he couldn’t say the same about Soap sometimes.  

Ghost shut the door a little harder than he meant to, his head fell back against the headrest as he took a deep breath. Was it happening again? He reached into the glove box, retrieving his pills. His hand tightly gripped around the small orange vial as he worked on controlling his breath. Inhale for five, exhale for five. Ghost hated that stupid technique, it felt ridiculous. But it worked. The panic was subsiding, and the pill bottle fell from his hand onto the floorboard of the truck beside his foot.  

Ghost picked it back up and tossed it into the neat compartment, leaving the parking lot of the office to make his way over to her. 

He pulled up to the sight of Andra kneeling before the broken part of the fence line, putting some kind of temporary fix for the day. Her head perked up as she noticed him coming closer, parking in the dirt driveway. Andra got up on her feet and wiped loose grass and dirt off of her jeans, her eyes red and puffy. He killed the engine and stepped out of the truck. 

“What are you doing here?” Andra sniffled, trying and failing to hide the fact that she’s been crying. 

“Got your message.” He answered. 

Her lip quivered as tears welled up in her irritated eyes again, and she turned her head away to look at the pen. “Ghost, you didn’t have to show up.” She covered her face in her hands, taking in a deep breath. “I just wanted you to let me know if you find him, this didn’t have to turn into a search party.” 

“Where do the tracks end?” 

Andra looked at him again after wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “This way, maybe I’m not sure.” 

He wanted to rag on her about her lack of confidence in tracking prints, but didn’t when he remembered who he was talking to. There was nothing worse in this moment than seeing her so worked up and upset over this damn chicken. He was going to find it for her, it couldn’t have gone far. 

She led him to an area and pointed to the pockmarked ground full of three-toed prints. “This is where they mainly stayed, and, the tracks are just all over the place and don’t really lead anywhere…” 

“There,” Ghost pointed out a trail of individual tracks that led astray. Of course, it wandered off into the thick wooded area of her land. He headed back to the truck to retrieve his pistol, tucking it into the backside waistband of his jeans. Andra wasn’t fazed at the sight of his gun, probably reminded her of being back home. “Stay here, I don’t want you getting hurt out there.” 

“I’m going.” She protested with a broken voice as she followed behind him. 

“I don’t want you getting hurt out there.” Ghost stopped to turn back to her. “And we don’t know if there are any wild animals out there.” 

“You’re gonna want me out there, trust me.” Her voice was firmer this time; she wasn’t taking no for an answer. 

Ghost sighed as he observed her small, trembling frame. She really needed to put something on other than loafers.  “Go put on some sensible shoes, and we’ll look together.” 

Andra was quiet, all except for the crunching leaves beneath her boots. Ghost took the rear, letting her take lead at a short distance. If she was going to trip, fall or hurt herself he would be able to prevent it from turning into a disaster this way. Her shoulders slumped, but her head swiveled as she combed her surroundings. 

“You ever explore these woods?” Ghost breaks the thick silence, and attempt to pull her from her somber. 

She glanced over her shoulder in dismay. “No, I’ve never had the courage to come out here alone. I hear howling late in the night sometimes.” She resumed her diligent search, and Ghost doubled down on what he thought she looked over too quick. 

The tracks were growing thinner, but they still led them into the path of ancient trees. Sunrays bled through the leaves and branches of birch and ash trees, cascading ribbons of light down on Andra. Her hair shimmered with bits of blonde strands within her brunette hair, something Ghost never noticed before. Every rustle made her stop, startled by unknown wildlife. Most times it was the scuttles of lizards across stepping stones and miniature boulders. When it wasn’t this damn chicken, her shoulders would fall with a sigh. 

“We’ll hear it before we see it.” Ghost reassured her. 

“He’s probably dead by now…” 

It pained him to see Andra sulk over her lost animal. Ghost stopped beside where she planted herself, placing a warm hand on her shoulder. She looked down to his touch, then up to his masked face in surprise. “Let’s keep looking.” His hand retreated before she could place her own hand over his, then another rustle in a wild bush a few meters ahead alerted him. 

The damn bird came clucking out from behind it. 

“Ted!” Andra exclaimed as she raced to him, collecting the brainless animal into her arms and embraced him. “You stupid fucking bird, making us come out here to get you.” 

“You named the bloody thing Ted?” Ghost deadpanned. 

She plucked bits of leaves and twigs out of Ted’s feathers. “I never said I was good with coming up with names for animals.” 

Ghost chuckled at the sight of the brightness returning to her face. She met his eyes, kindness and gratitude radiating before she could even tell him with words. “Thank you, Ghost. You’re always coming to my rescue.” 

His heart jolted at her words. “Don’t make a habit of it.” Andra’s giggle made him turn away to hide his sheepish reaction. Andra passed him up, focused on grooming Ted and insulting him fifty different ways. Something caught his eye before he started to follow her. 

Footprints. 

Not their footprints, these were in an area off the beaten path. Ghost retrieved his firearm before stalking towards them, inspecting the prints. They were older, it wasn’t from recently and there were more than one set. Three sets of footprints. He turned his attention to the direction Andra was walking away, unaware that he stopped to investigate. 

It couldn’t be some random people or even kids coming out to wander these woods, at least that’s what Ghost convinced himself. They were too far out away from town, away from other neighboring people. Who knows, maybe the group was traveling their own acres and turned back around once they realized they came into someone else’s property. He really wanted to believe that, and not the darker theory that crept into his thoughts. Or did she lie about coming out here? Why would she do that? She could have easily explained she had gone exploring with a group. 

All of the prints looked too big for her foot size.  

Ghost didn’t want to alarm Andra. He just got her to smile again, this conversation will come up later.

----- 

Ghost was relieved to see Andra’s spirits lifting without another tear in sight. That stupid bird put her through enough turmoil, he’d rather never have to see her like that again. She was going over the details of how the broken pen and runaway chickens were discovered. “They would have all been gone if Sammy hadn’t barked at the window.”  

“What had you so distracted?” Ghost poked with mild curiosity.  

Her answer left out of her rushed before she could stop herself. “I was reading – and in between I was prepping some dough to make sourdough bread.” She interrupted herself once more, lost in her own thoughts. “Oh no, did I leave it on the counter or did I put it in the oven to rise? It’ll be fine if it rises for a few more hours, right?”  

It sounded like she was talking to herself more than asking Ghost, which was fine because he didn’t know the first thing about baking bread. He chuckled to himself. “Horror or romance?”  

“Huh?” Her external ramble was interrupted.  

“Were you reading horror or romance this time?” Ghost glanced at her briefly, his smirk concealed beneath the mask.  

Andra went sheepish once more. “Romance,” then, her tone shifted as she grumbled, “It was getting good until you gave my pen Ojo.”  

Ghost whipped his head to her direction quickly with a perplexed expression. “I did what now?” What does an eye have to do with anything?  

“You gave it the Evil Eye,” she looked back to him. “That’s why it broke.”  

His fingers tapped against the steering wheel as he waited for the light to change, feeling even more confused now. Ghost let out a lighthearted scoff. “It’s my fault that it broke now?”  

Andra huffed a defeated sigh. “No, I’m just being ridiculous.”  

If that’s what it was, Ghost found it amusing. “So now you’re gonna ‘ave to explain the Evil Eye to me.”  

“We have this superstition in Mexican/Hispanic culture where if you look at something for too long, you can potentially send bad energy its way. It can be an object or a person, and to cancel it out you can touch it or them.”  

“That’s not a thing.” Ghost retorted, holding back laughter. “I never heard about that when I was in Mexico.”  

A playful smirk crept over Andra’s face. “Maybe because they believed you were the Evil Eye incarnate.”  

Ghost let out a sarcastic laugh. “Very clever.” The truck rolled into the parking lot of the hardware store, locating a convenient parking spot nearest to the store. Ghost cut the engine, and sat there for a second. “Well, if that’s the case,” Andra gave him a puzzled look as he reached out to run a strand of her soft hair between his fingers. “That way your hair doesn’t fall out.”  

The gesture was well worth the furious blush that spread over her face like wildfire, despite his own heart jackhammering in his chest.

-----  

Ghost was reassessing the hole in the pen while Andra let out Sammy to run around and handle her business. He gives her a quick greeting pet before standing on his feet, gesturing to the pen. “We can either replace this side or replace the entire perimeter.” 

“Might as well use all of the supplies I bought.” Andra pulled her work gloves out from her back pocket and slipped them on. “We work on different sides?” 

He nodded with a grunt. Watching Ghost haul the supplies off the bed of his truck was something Andra couldn’t pull her focus away from. What is wrong with me? She was acting like the sight of muscle and sinew flexing and tightening beneath his work shirt was… erotic. And Gods, every time he grunted and growled from the weight of whatever he hauled off his truck… that’s it, no more romance books for you for a week. He slid on his own gloves, this pair had her biting back a smirk. They matched his skull balaclava, and it made her wonder if he shuffled around in skeleton-patterned socks in the comfort of his house. 

She looked away with a smirk when Ghost noticed she was gawking. “I know, I know, don’t say anything.” 

“I didn’t.” Andra’s voice went up in pitch. Her smile grew when she caught a glimpse of him shaking his head in her peripherals. 

Ghost was fun to tease, and his choice of gear made it easier to find something to poke fun at. Was it low hanging fruit? Sure, but it’s all she had to tease him for. The joking around was her way of trying to learn more about people, and if they could laugh or joke back, they were worth getting to know. It was the ones who stuck their noses up at Andra that she steers clear from. 

The work began, and Ghost had Andra looking like she had never picked up a hardware tool in her life. While she had one length of old fencing nails removed, Ghost was nearly done with the sides of his wall. The man knew how to work efficiently, it didn’t even look like he was breaking a sweat. 

“Did your dad teach you how to do blue collar work?” Andra asked as she struggled with a nail. 

His rhythm and focus was derailed by her question. “No, old man wasn’t worth shit.” 

Oh… the gravel in his voice sent a chill down her spine. Estranged father, got it. 

Ghost resumed, cutting out the needed dimensions of chicken wire. Andra could see him blink a few times, that calloused glare lingering. “I did some work in basic and before I was sent off to my specialized unit, not making chicken pens, but we learned out way around manual tools for several things.” He went quiet once more to concentrate on the measurements. 

Andra threw aside the old chicken wire once she pulled out all of the nails. “Do you have any siblings?” 

He hesitated before answering. “An older brother.” 

“Oh.” She started unfurling her needed piece of wire. “Do you stay in contact with him?” 

“No.” His answer came out short and quick, nearly cutting Andra off. 

What am I doing? Andra frowned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up something you don’t want to talk about.” 

Ghost sighed as he used the staple gun to nail in the new wire. “No one ever asks, so I’m not used to talking about it. Considering you’re quite chatty, it was bound to come up.” Her cheeks burned from his comment. “Maybe someday.” 

That hardened look softened to humor, and relief washed over her. Don’t bring up the family. She felt stupid for mentioning it. Maybe she would never learn more about the mysterious man who, for some reason, kept helping her out when she’s been nothing but trouble. He was right about one thing; Andra is chatty. And she didn’t want to give up talking to him. She decided to switch gears. 

“Hey Ghost.” Andra grinned to herself. 

“Hmm.” 

“Don’t challenge Death to a pillow fight. Unless you’re prepared for the reaper cushions.” 

Ghost froze in place, his eyes flickered to her. “Not bad.” 

“Your turn.” She encouraged. 

He took a second to think of one. “What do you call a dog with no legs? Doesn’t matter, he won’t come anyway.” 

Andra peered over her shoulders. “Don’t let Sammy hear that one.” Ghost chuffed a laugh. “My favorite Disney movie is the Hunchback of Notre Dame. I love a hero with a twisted back story.” 

That one managed to get a snicker out of Ghost. This dork likes puns. 

“What did Kermit the Frog say at his puppeteer’s funeral? Not a word.” 

He’s morbid, and it’s great. 

“Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana.” 

There was a beat of a pause. “That was bad.” 

“C’mon, it was good.” She laughed. 

“I have bad puns, but that one was awful.” 

The lacerating pain hit her hot and fast. “Fuck!” The whipping sound of the wire sprung against the wall, make it stop in its tracks.

Ghost immediately shot up onto his feet, flying over the short distance she was away from him along with Sammy galloping over in concern for her momma.  He saw the blood saturating her jeans as well as the gash that was oozing beneath the torn denim. “Let’s get you inside.” Ghost had linked his arms underneath her shoulders and hoisted her with ease, earning a growl of pain from her. “I got you, we’ll take it slow. Do you have a first floor bathroom?”

Andra threw an arm over his shoulder as he guided her to the house, giving him directions for the bathroom he led her to. Sammy stayed behind them the entire time, whining and panting as if feeling helpless. Andra coaxed her companion with reassuring words in hopes to calm her down. She was hissing and groaning the entire way there, and her attempts of trying to focus on anything else but the pain failed her, until a smell hit her. Was that cardamom? It filled her lungs as she took a deep breath, trying to disguise it as a inhale to calm her down. Technically, it did the job because wholly Gods, he smelled like a comfort she never had.

He swung open the front door, carrying most of her weight. Hell, he could easily carry all of her weight if he really wanted to. “Is there a first aid kit in here?” Ghost asked while he eased her down on the lip of the bathtub. Sammy laid by the bathroom door, watching Ghost closely to make sure he's taking care of Andra.

“Yeah, below the sink,” she whined. He didn’t waste any time finding it. “God, today really stuck it to me.”

“Bad things come in three, isn’t that the saying?” Ghost quipped, earning a snort from her. “If the broken pen is the first and Ted was the second, this one must be the third.” He slid off his gloves and ran his hands through soap and water in the basin. “Can you pull up that pant leg?”

Andra tried, but it had her wincing from the flashes of pain. “Nope, that’s not gonna work.” Ghost returned, his fingers tugged at the zipper of the first aid kid before kneeling in front of her. “There’s a pair of scissors in that bag, I don’t care about losing a pair of jeans-” His damp hands settled her leg between his thighs to stabilize it, and with hardly any effort at all he tore the denim wide open. Christ alive. “Or you can do that.”

“Let’s get this cleaned up and wrapped.” Ghost abandoned her leg to swiftly rummage for the necessary supplies. Antiseptic, gauze, and self-adhesive bandage. With everything lined up beside him, Ghost gripped the back of her leg, right onto her tensed up calf and gently moved it. She could feel the tremor in his hand. “It’s not deep, you won’t need stitches.”

Andra sighs in relief, followed by a yelp when an antiseptic-doused washcloth was applied onto the wound. His sorry was quiet and short, if she heard it. A deep focus washed over her from the sight of Ghost knelt before her, caressing her leg while the other hand cleaned her off. The pain suddenly didn’t feel as bad as before, now when his touch became her entire focus. His thumb was tracing little circles into her flesh, just barely.

He must have noticed how still and quiet Andra went. His Autumn brown eyes looked up to her, devoid of distance. His stare had its own gravitational pull, sucking her in. Christ, am I really getting this worked up? It made her feel like she knocked back two fingers worth of whiskey, her legs turning to jelly and her brain now fuzzy.

“Is that okay?”

A breath caught itself in her throat. She’s never heard him whisper like that before. A head nod was all she could manage. Ghost returned back to her wound, and she’s so thankful for it. Suddenly, the ceiling got much more interesting to look at. But that scent floated near her nostrils once more; that was definitely cardamom and something else she couldn’t place. Something soothing, something that made his musk smell… delectable. Her cheeks were red hot from the thought, the need, to press her face into his shirt, the neckline of his balaclava, anything, to sear that scent into her mind.

The cloth of the gauze patch stuck to the fleshy bit of her knee, and she’s startled by the rip of the self-adhesive bandage.

“Done.”

Andra braves a glance at her knee, flexing it slightly to test the hold of Ghost’s handiwork. Of course, he would know how to patch her up in a pinch, and she tries not to think about how many of his brothers in arms he had to do this – and much worse – for.

Further down, sitting on the tops of his thigh was a trembling hand, the other one continued its soft ministrations on her calf. It’s like it was for his own comfort rather than hers. Regardless, she could melt from the soothing sensation it brought her. She was scared of doing something that would make him pull away, but as if he read her mind, Ghost did it anyway.

“Thank you.” Andra warbles sheepishly. “I get to keep the limb because of you.”

Ghost let out a chuckle, his shoulders releasing some trapped tension there. “I’ll finish up out there.” He stood up, and offered Andra a hand to help her get to the living room couch, leaving there with a tornado wrecking every thought about what had happened.

Idiot idiot idiot.

Ghost was just helping her, Andra drilled in her head. It didn’t mean anything the way he touched her, right? Or the way he spoke, the words cutting through her like soft butter. Or the look he gave her. She’s delusional, right? Andra rubbed a hand over her face, desperately wishing she had a bottle of wine in the kitchen.

The hour she spent sitting there chewing her nails and petting Sammy felt like a death sentence. She could catch glimpses of Ghost through the screen door. Every now and then he would shake his head at himself. Her heart sank to her stomach. Maybe he was frustrated with having to help her out today. For having to possibly take time out of a work day to deal with her bullshit. And then that whole thing with bringing up his family…

Stupid stupid stupid.

Andra was so deep in her head, she didn’t realize Ghost had come back inside until the screen door smacked the doorway behind him. “Everything’s solid now.”

She braved a gentle grin. “Thank you Ghost. I meant it earlier, you’re always coming to my rescue and I don’t take that for granted.”

He gave her a terse nod as he pushed open the screen door, his hand resting on the top of the threshold. “Try not to need any more savin’ for a while, hmm?”

Andra couldn’t hold back a smile. “I’ll do my best.”

-----

The truck will be ready tomorrow. 

Tomorrow is today. Andra looked over Ghost’s text again as if there’s a hidden, underlying message in his words. She chews at the innards of her cheek, tapping a foot on her tile floors. It was one of the first messages Andra has received from him that was more than one word. He had checked in several days after he repaired the pen at least, but after giving Andra a short ‘Good’, radio silence. 

She didn’t bother asking Johnny about Ghost. If she was someone that Ghost didn’t want to keep in contact with, fair enough. She’s felt like an enormous burden for the both of them since Ghost found her on the side of the road. Besides, Sunday mornings were already busy enough with Johnny accumulating a harem of regular customers. It was great for business, replenishing the crater that the transmission fix left in her savings. She was preparing for the plummet that was going to follow when the ladies realize Johnny wasn’t returning. 

As well as preparing for the possibility that both of them might go back to being strangers. They never crossed paths before, or at least she doesn’t recall ever seeing a masked man and his mohawked companion in public. 

Andra sighed as she tucked her phone into her back pocket, reaching for her coffee mug on the kitchen counter she leaned against. Maybe she overthought the moment he spent patching up her wound. It left a pink scar slashing across her knee, trailing down her shin. No, stop the gaslighting. His hands definitely lingered on her for longer than anyone should have. She wished he had stayed longer, wished he had done more. 

“Hellooo?” Johnny’s voice carried through the entrance. Andra was used to him coming in when the front door is left open, yet she was jolted back to reality once her inner monologue was interrupted. He offered to come get her before going in for his own shift. Still extremely reluctant to accept gas money for the miles he had put into travelling back and forth. 

“In here,” Andra called out as she finished the rest of her coffee, rinsing out the mug and leaving it to sit in the basin.  

Johnny couldn’t stop talking about some girl that worked at the fish and chip shop he frequents on lunch breaks as they drove to the shop. “You think it means something if she goes outta her way t’ring us up? I mean, sometimes she’ll be in the back and will take over when she hears me.” 

Andra scoffs. “How more obvious does she have to be?” 

He clicks his tongue. “I just don’ wanna make it awkward if there’s nothin’ there.” 

“Don’t be a dick about it, then there won’t be anything to worry about.” Andra got the feeling that Johnny didn’t have the best track record with women. Hence why he was so clueless about this one. 

The two of them walked into the shop jabbing jokes at each other when Andra saw Ghost behind the counter, leaning into his fist as he looked down at an open book. He was sporting the same navy button up shirt with the shop’s logo embroidered above the left breast pocket, the sleeves rolled up to his biceps to reveal his tattoos and smudges of car grime. She could see a tension shift in his shoulders, like he was fighting the urge to look up at her. Okay…? Johnny tapped a fist on Ghost’s shoulder and continued to breeze past him, walking through a door that led to the depot. Andra approached the counter with a frigid apprehension, tapping her fingertips against the surface. “Hey, is now a good time to pick up my truck?” 

“Aye.” Ghost kept his focus on the ledger he was working on, then turned away without a glance to file through a cabinet to search for her invoice. One-worded answers again. 

She let a few seconds of suffocating silence pass before trying again. “The breeder I had bought my chickens from hit me up to let me know she’s got a goat that’s going to give birth soon. I was thinking about taking the kid off of her hands.” More flitting of paper. “I’ll have to expand and build another pen once I can bring it home.” 

“Hmm.” Was all Ghost gave her. A mere acknowledging hum if that. He retrieved a paper with a small zip-lock bag containing her key, stapled to it and returned it to the counter. “Sign this to indicate that we released your vehicle back to ye, if you want, we can inspect the truck really quick to see if everything is in order.” 

His cold attitude and lifeless voice was a punch in the gut. “Did I do something wrong?” No response, just a hand picking up a pen from a worn out metal cup followed by a slide of the pen across the counter. Her expression hardened, and she scribbled a half-assed signature before shoving the pen down. “No, an inspection isn’t necessary. Okay, so I definitely misread the whole interaction in the bathroom then. Not only did she misread it, but the whole thing was also in a different language. Now this passive-aggressive stand-off was Ghost’s way of interpreting it for her. Message received, loud and clear.

-----

If you're enjoying this story, any engagement is appreciated 🖤

[orcboxer]

I'm always reflavoring and recontextualizing the roles of villagers in my various minecraft builds because of how distasteful their whole deal is in the vanilla game. And I mean it's a sandbox, so recontextualization is an intended aspect of gameplay. So like when I move a villager to one of my towns, I write lil records under their name as if villagers were the ones who built the town and wrote the books. Pretty basic shit right, it works.

Iron farms are a bit trickier though. The most effective source of iron in the games comes from villagers. I know what you're thinking; no it ain't a soylent green situation, but that might almost be more palatable because the actual iron farms are basically Perpetual Fear Machines.

The idea is you build a tower, a real tall one, and at the top you got 4 villagers in small rooms, all living underneath a big wet platform. Don't worry about the wet part. The 4 rooms are arranged in a square, with no doors and only one open window facing toward the center of the square. Each room has one bed and one little workstation for enrichment, and of course the open window. Through the window, the villager can see the Horror.

The Horror is the thing at the center of the square, about 8 meters away from each window. It's a zombie that I've trapped. It can't move from the center. It snarls and gnashes its teeth at the villagers it sees through the open windows of the 4 cramped rooms surrounding it, but it can't reach them. The villagers do not like seeing the Horror, but they can't run because there's no door, only the open window. So they just anxiously pace around their cramped little room, the open window always in view, the Horror always just beyond it.

Now, when villagers are frightened, they exhibit a special, latent power; they unknowingly summon huge iron golems to protect them. Iron golems are powerful, smashing monsters into a fine powder within seconds. Problem is, the golems are too large to spawn anywhere but on top of the big wet platform. This is where the wet part comes in. The big wet platform is flooded with moving water. The moving water slowly pushes the golems toward a large hole. Once they slip, they fall all the way down the tower into a chamber that immediately melts them down and deposits the resulting iron ingots into storage.

So obviously this Perpetual Fear Machine is pretty unethical in the vanilla context of the game, so, not ideal. So to recontextualize them, I fashion them into research facilities. The villagers are scientists, researching and training their latent psionic abilities. They're running around their labs, not as a rabbit fleeing a fox, but as a busy researcher on the cusp of a breakthrough. The golems are tulpas, manifestations of their own psychic will, but ephemeral, unstable, dissolving after only a few seconds, leaving behind only iron husks -- the only part of the tulpa simple enough to fully cross over the veil into the physical world, the realm of object permanence.

Their ultimate goal, however, lies at the center of the facility, growling and shambling around in mindless stupor. A former colleague, a friend, a victim of a terrible virus that warps the mind and rots the flesh, trapping them in a state of hunger and undeath. They could kill them, of course, but they won't, they refuse. They built this facility to find a way to use their psychic powers to restore the mind of their old friend. If they can create iron from thought, jewels from conversation, then surely, surely they can help their infected colleague remember who they are. They just have to keep trying.

[eggymf-archived]

of paper planes and wildflowers; 10

ft. ominis gaunt with f!reader (series)

chapter warnings: mild angst, mentions of kidnapping, trauma, not proofread, unedited

chapter summary: your denial towards your heart's desire is quite a stubborn thing to get rid of, but it’s only a matter of time before you fully cave in.

word count: 4.8k

a/n: can't believe i'm halfway through this fic series. also i apologize for the huge delay. it feels like a criminal offense not updating this series for 2 weeks, but i was dipping my toe in other forms of writing plus i have a raging smut brain rot to quell. anyways, enjoy! :D

main masterlist || series masterlist || AO3 

It was just another typical day as a wee fifth year, doing perfectly normal student things. At least, that's what you hoped for the entirety of the duration of the day. The past few days hadn't been particularly forgiving towards you physically, mentally, and perhaps emotionally: and no, it wasn't the extra workload that your other classmates were bemoaning about every class dismissal, nor was it about anything outlandish like Peeves juggling small cauldrons and chucking it at random unsuspecting students in the Potions Classroom.

The sole reason was utterly mundane if you were to fully think about it. Not just that, but it was rather silly that you still get perplexed even at a mere afterthought of a certain blonde-haired male with the most intriguingly beautiful misty eyes alongside his alluring, multifaceted nature.

Ominis Gaunt. 

Ominis “Romped-You-In-The-Library” Gaunt.

Ominis “Broom-Closet-Extraordinaire” Gaunt.

Ominis “Almost-Caught-by-Brattleby” Gaunt.

Ominis “Pervert-Vanquisher” Gaunt.

Ominis “Russ��-New-Owner” Gaunt.

Ominis “Screams-Mid-Flight-in-a-Broom” Gaunt

And the most recent one, much to your sheer delight, confusion, and panic.

Ominis “Vesper-aka-Your-Pen-Pal” Gaunt.

That note that you had gotten from the kitchens has absolutely plagued your poor mind and heart. Despite it being nearly two full days ever since you received it, you were still in shambles, unable to wrap your pretty little head around the truth that had been slapped right into your face. You hadn't replied to his letter just yet for good measure, but you planned to once you had the mental capacity to do so. In fact, you were taking everything to mind, using your signature Ravenclaw trait and skills of rationality and analysis to do its wonders of problem-solving for the best outcome.

But would brain-oriented tactics effectively help when it comes to matters of the heart? Yes. Would you be happy with the conclusions? Probably not. Yes — you were a woman of logic and reasoning, and whatever your answers were based on your keen analysis and takeaways were much more reliable than your whims and emotions.

Oh, when will this madness ever cease?

It was a war zone within you, and everything was on fire. As usual, you were overcomplicating things for yourself. In your defense, however, you can't help it: your mind clearly says no, but your heart says yes was something that you couldn't rely on due to its fickle nature, yet it must be taken into consideration to make a sound choice.

“Seriously? Losing your marbles over a boy? You should be embarrassed.” 

Your self-assured inner voice continuously chides you within your head, your eyes fixated on that particular Slytherin student with that gorgeous face slicked back blonde hair who was fast asleep on the cold marble floors of the Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower. Garreth and Natsai were chatting away while you kept stealing glances at the slumbering male on the first floor, pensive.

Yes, this was allegedly the boy who has been plaguing your mind day and night for the past few months. While you were in a state of inner turmoil with your own mental gymnastics and beating muscle's theatrics, he was just there, blissfully taking a nap like an innocent stray kitten. Though you have to admit: his ability to sleep anywhere was rather impressive. 

Do you dare to think that he actually looks adorable being curled up into a ball like that? Yes No.

You felt an arm wrap itself around your neck, trapping you in a headlock. Garreth shook his head, tutting.

“Blimey, you have it pretty bad for him, don’t you?” he sighs in jest, looking at the Gaunt from a distance. Natsai smirks, leaning against the marble balustrade while crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow towards you.

“You’ve been staring at him for quite a while,” she points out with a rather teasing tone. “You might as well take a picture instead of pretending not to look at him this whole time.”

You felt heat rush to your face, groaning in response at your two closest friends who merely chortled at your plight. Your mind, however, was rooted in a different place — you were in no mood to make your usual retorts with how swarmed your thoughts were. His penned words were in a constant loop, echoing throughout every small crevice of your brain alongside the monologues that you have vehemently tried to eradicate in hopes of stunting the growth of this budding romance, all to no avail.

“Thank you for not believing the rest of them.”

“Sometimes, I wish I did — perhaps it'll be easier for my own mind, body, and soul, but I could never do such a thing.”

“I never expected someone else to see me for who I truly am.”

“I can't turn back now. Choosing ignorance despite knowing the truth is a grave sin to my own moral beliefs — and especially towards you, a diamond in the rough; a person who deserves more than what he has been given.”

Your kindness astounds me, and I’m forever grateful that you exist in my life.

“I wish I had your bravery. It’s never easy to voice out your feelings, yet you do it with such grace and sincerity. If only I could openly reciprocate the ever-growing feelings I have for you. It would mean the world to me, but for now, I shall voice out my heartfelt gratitude to the cosmos — for granting me this privilege of being in your company, even if it’s only for a little while.”

A chilling wave of sadness washed over you, snapping you out of your own whimsical thoughts and slightly deflating at the reality that had dawned upon you once more, leaving a bitter taste on your tongue.

This was wrong. All of it is wrong.

Self-righteousness paired with the obsession to conformity was a blight on one's identity, and your own mother was a living example of that statement. She was uptight and adamant about following the traditions of her adopted family. Perhaps the fact that she wasn’t related to them by blood had caused her to develop a rather crippling mindset of constantly needing to prove herself. She would be livid to find out that you’ve been “fraternizing” with the “enemy” — a Gaunt.

The Robards were known to produce both Aurors and members of the Wizengamot throughout the entirety of their family history. They’ve always walked on the path of light, and just like your poor mother, you had no choice but to comply with their “standards”. Within honor and prestige lies a form of imprisonment: as a member of the family, it was your duty to protect the house’s reputation alongside its members. No matter how much you disagreed with their outdated ways, there would always be a fragment of you that yearns for their approval — a shackle that you might not possibly be able to free yourself from.

At the end of the day, the little girl within you merely yearns to hear the right words: to be assured that she's not messing everything up for the umpteenth time.

Yet amidst the dramatic angst of your bitter situation, you find yourself thinking of him fondly regardless, recalling the little things that he had done for you throughout the past few months. Every letter, gift, gesture, banter, and touch; the slight roughness of his hands, the softness of his lips, the honesty of his expressions, and the warmth of his embrace — everything.

Unfortunately for you, the truth always gets increasingly harder to avoid the longer you deny the desires of your poor maiden heart. The more you get to know him, the deeper you sink into the quagmire of romance. 

Yet here you were, going against your beliefs for the umpteenth time.

Defense Against the Dark Arts Classes was about to start in a matter of minutes, yet you felt sluggish. For some odd reason, you didn't want to attend it: there was a feeling of dread that you had all of a sudden, which consumed your gut rather unpleasantly. Meanwhile, Ominis was still sound asleep, utterly in bliss. 

Perhaps a few minutes of tardiness won't be that big of a deal.

“You guys go on ahead. I'll catch up,” you informed Garreth and Natsai, who were heading up to the stairwell leading to Professor Hecat’s classroom. You approached his curled-up form, fighting a cheeky little grin that threatened to break out from your lips at the sight. You furrowed your brows, clearing your throat to diffuse the growing embarrassment within your chest.

“Wonder why Sallow isn’t with him…” you pondered, kneeling beside him and gently pinching his cheek, wiggling the flesh slightly.

“Wake up...”

Snore.

“Wake up.”

…

Sigh.

A ghost of a smirk appears on his lips, which doesn't slip under your observant gaze. You frowned, pinching his cheek slightly harder this time, causing his eyelids to snap open out of the sudden tugging pain.

“OW!”

“Classes start in around five minutes. Be thankful I even woke you up,” you huff, a light pink dusting your face before standing up and heading off to the classroom. Ominis rubbed his now reddened cheek, getting up and tailing after you with a small smile on his lips. 

The both of you arrived in the classroom just in time while Professor Hecat was rearranging the desks within the classroom. At the center of the classroom lies an all-familiar old cupboard covered with grimy-looking mirror panels. Its knob rattled loudly, the being within it eager to be set free. Weary eyes stared at the mysterious cupboard and your classmates glanced at each other with worried expressions.

“Alright, settle down,” Professor Hecat shushes the murmurs of the students around her, beginning the lesson for the day. “Does anybody know what is within this cupboard?”

Several students raise their hands. She picks Cressida Blume.

“A Boggart. A non-being who is capable of shapeshifting into your worst fear. They commonly thrive in dark places such as shadowy corners, under the bed, or within cupboards.”

“Excellent. Points to Gryffindor. Your task for today is to learn the counter-spell for such creatures: Ridikkulus. To cast the spell, you are required to concentrate on the humorous form you desire it to change into. Remember: Boggarts are defeated by laughter, so steel your resolve. Form a line,” the former Unspeakable instructed. 

For the first time, you made your way to the back of the queue. You knew exactly what the Boggart was going to turn into, and you dreaded it with every fiber of your being.

“Calm down. It’s been years. It can’t harm you, alright? Relax.”

You fiddled with your thumb, biting your bottom lip as you desperately mustered up your courage to face what was awaiting you. Inhaling slow, lungful breaths, you tried whatever you could to quell the ever-growing dread that grew more and more unbearable by the passing second. Everyone else’s attempts were smooth sailing, and the line was getting shorter and shorter. 

Soon enough, it was finally your turn.

You were beyond frightened despite this being a simple practical exercise; your throat felt rather constricted as you gripped your wand with shaky hands, completely unprepared for the possible psychological effects of what you were about to witness. Professor Hecat gave you a grim look, noticing the quiver of your frame. Your usual form was definitely off, and as someone aware of your history both as a student and as a victim of that particular tragedy, she knew exactly what the Boggart will be turning into once she unlocks the cupboard door. She walked beside you, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder before stepping back. 

“Wands at the ready!” 

With a sharp inhale and a tightened grip on the handle.

The knob turned open, and the door creaked open. The faint rattling of chains was heard as the creature advanced forward. A shackled, dirtied foot of a young teenager stepped out of the large cupboard, and it finally bared its current appearance to the entire class.

Simon (L/N) — your brother: to be more precise, your deceased elder brother.

His boyish, teenage self was just as how you remembered it to be: tousled black hair, and a lithe frame. His limbs each had its own dirtied manacles and his usual tidy clothing was stained with mud and was slightly tattered at the edges. Grazes littered his legs and arms, and his hazel eyes were devoid of any life, staring at you blankly like a mere Inferius before it swoops in for the kill. 

Your heart sank, fear coursing through your veins as it approached you. Color was rapidly draining from your complexion. The sight before you momentarily brought you back to a specific painful memory — within a locked cage in a dark space together with him, with you being held captive as well. Tears welled up in your eyes, your knees eventually caving in as you collapsed onto the floor, dragging yourself further away from the looming amortal before you. Its fingers outstretched towards your shuddering form, a maniacal grin forming on its face.

“Depulso!”

The Boggart was sent flying back into the cupboard, the door bolting itself shut. Professor Hecat lowered her wand while you remained seated on the floor in cold sweat, your eyes glued onto the large furniture that kept rattling until it finally ceased its attempt of escape. Garreth and Natsai immediately rushed to your side, helping you back up on your feet. 

Horror was still within your being: your breathing was erratic, your pupils constricted, and the beating of your heart was hammering painfully within your chest. You wanted to throw up, feeling absolutely sick in the stomach at what had just transpired.

Without warning, you bolted towards the exit of the classroom out of shame and fright.

“Wait!”

“Miss (L/N)!”

As you ran out of the classroom, Ominis quickly got up on his feet and followed you without a second thought, ignoring both Professor Hecat's and Sebastian’s calls. Natsai was about to run after you as well but was immediately held back by Garreth, who shook his head at her. 

The heels of your boots clacked against the marble floors as you sped through the nearly empty hallways of the Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower with glassy eyes. Ominis chased after you with a look of pure concern on his face.

He may not have seen the form of your Boggart, but he was definitely sure that it had triggered a horrible memory.

He called out your surname, his wand held out with the tip blinking red much faster than usual. You slowly stopped, heaving while clutching your chest, propping yourself up at the nearby marble balustrade. Ominis gulped, just as breathless and flushed red with beads of perspiration forming on his temple. 

Tucking his wand away, he gently places his hands on your arms, engulfing you in his embrace. You whimpered, allowing yourself to sink within his inviting warmth, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face within his chest. He rests his chin upon your crown, his thumb rubbing your shoulder in hopes of further soothing you into calmness.

“Shhh. It's alright. You're safe now.”

Your breaths began to steady itself after a while as you inhaled his scent. The both of you soon parted the moment you felt much more grounded. He holds his hand out, waiting for yours to grab it.

“Let's go?” he asks softly.

Without the slightest idea of what he had up his sleeve, you decided to acquiesce to his offer. A smile graced his face, and you let him lead you. Much to your surprise, however, instead of heading back into the Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom, the both of you were headed to the door leading to the Pungent Passage. 

“Gaunt, this isn't the way back to the classroom, you know…”

“...Yes, I'm aware of that.”

“So why are we going to the West Tower?”

Ominis kept his lips pursed, not wanting to divulge his little impromptu plan, opting to give you a small smirk instead before looking away.

“...By the way, you’re still holding my hand,” you pointed out while wiggling your fingers, expecting him to loosen his hold. Much to your surprise, he stopped walking to adjust your fingers, intertwining his fingers with yours in a much more secure grip. Warmth began to creep up your face as he held his work up closer to your visage.

“Yes, I am.”

The trip towards the West Tower was a rather enjoyable one despite the silence, with the both of you running through the Pungent Passageway as fast as you both could while holding your breaths, not letting go of each other’s hands. Upon reaching the exit, Ominis pushes the gargantuan doors open, dragging you out with him into the cold outdoors before pushing the door shut. There weren't any other students outside, much to his relief. 

“I figured that Hecat's classroom would be the last place you'd ever want to return to after what happened,” he shrugs nonchalantly, finally explaining his actions. “I'm assuming your Boggart wasn't a pleasant sight. It's not like you to be that frightened.”

“... Yes. You're right. I…” you sighed, your words trailing off. A gentle, understanding smile graced his features.

“You know, I think this would be a good time to venture out of the castle grounds.” he ponders out loud. You tilted your head in bemusement at his suggestion.

“To where exactly?”

“Anywhere but here, of course. Maybe Feldcroft?” 

A small grin slowly cracked itself onto your face.

“... So you're inviting me to skip classes with you. Is that it?” you chuckled in wry amusement.

“Surely you don’t have any objections to that?” he asked with a subtle hint of mischief while raising an eyebrow.

“You do know that we might get detention for this, right?”

“So? Old news, really. I could hardly care less serving it together again if that’s what you're worried about,” he scoffs while you snickered in response.

“Is that another invitation?” 

“Perhaps. Is it?” he retorts with a smug grin.

With a giggle escaping your lips, you brought out your wand, pointing it towards the direction of the Ravenclaw Tower.

“Accio, Aeromancer!”

The both of you waited, and a seemingly tiny dot from the Ravenclaw Tower’s roof deck began to grow larger as it zipped through the air, flying to its summoner. Your broom hovers before you, and you grab its handle, mounting on the seat. Ominis does the same, placing himself right behind you. He leaned forward and grabbed the handle, his torso flush against your back. You gulped, taking in a deep breath before stomping hard on the ground, taking off. 

Just this one day, you decided to spare him the horrors of your reckless flying. 

The both of you leisurely flew in the air, feeling the cool nip of the wintry winds against both your flushed faces, unexpectedly enjoying each other's company. It was a sight to behold truly: the landscape as far as your eyes could see was covered in a soft, powdery, glittery blanket of snow. You relished the moment in silent glee, feeling the warmth of his being right against your back, biting your lower lip slightly in hopes of suppressing a giddy little giggle from escaping your lips. 

Ominis wasn't that different from you either — in fact, he was enjoying this close proximity with absolutely zero shame within his system. A cheeky grin was threatening to slip past his normally calm and collected expression, clearly not wanting this moment of sheer elation to end. It was truly a blessing: having you so close to him with strands of your hair fluttering about and lightly tickling his face. He sighs in contentment, enjoying the rest of the ride until the both of you reach your destination.

Feldcroft was in its usual quiet state with most of its residents in the comfort of their own little cottages, keeping themselves warm by their own cozy little fireplace. The two of you landed in a nearby clearing, dismounting immediately as soon as your feet hit the ground. Ominis instinctively intertwined his fingers with yours once again with his other hand gripping his wand to navigate around the area.

“Say, Gaunt. Why exactly are we in Feldcroft out of all places?”

“Thought it might be best for you to just unwind for a bit. Plus, there’s someone that I do want you to meet,” Ominis hums as the both of you approach a particular cottage with several training dummies on standby. “I think the both of you will like each other's company.”

“Really? Who?” you asked with piqued interest.

“My chosen family,” he smiles before he raps on the wooden door. A lump formed in your throat at this, your cheeks turning a deeper shade of red and your eyes widened in shock. The door soon opened, revealing a brunette-haired girl with her hair tied in a low bun, her eyes glimmering with delight at the sight of both of you at her doorstep.

Anne Sallow — Sebastian Sallow's twin sister. A look of curiosity was evident on your face: rumors had said that she has contracted some debilitating illness hence her absence this entire school year, but not many details about that matter had been divulged.

“Ominis, what a surprise!” she exclaimed before turning towards you with a warm, welcoming smile. “And you brought her along too!”

“It's nice to see you again, Anne. I apologize if we came at a rather unexpected time,” you sheepishly said.

“It's no trouble, really. I quite like having visitors around. Come on in! Uncle Solomon won't be back for a while, so do make yourselves at home.”

You entered the cottage first, followed by Ominis and Anne. The brown-eyed girl nudged the pale-skinned male lightly, whispering in a hushed tone.

“Psst! Ominis, is she….” Anne trails off with an underlying teasing tone evident within her voice. A rosy hue crept up his cheeks and he cleared his throat to lessen his bashfulness, giving Anne a slight nod. The brunette bit her lip slightly at the response, suppressing a squeal of delight as she excitedly approached you, who was currently seated in the dining area.

It was a pleasant session filled with laughter and stories; the three of you partaking in the sandwiches and tea that you had voluntarily conjured. Ominis hummed, closing his eyes in a relaxed fashion with his legs crossed, sipping his tea as both you and Anne discussed many different topics in a rather animated way, ranging from Anne's shenanigans back when she was still in Hogwarts, to her current plights and woes. 

It had been a while ever since he had heard Anne this uplifted, and it most certainly had a positive effect on you as well, much to his sigh of relief. 

What warmed his heart the most was that you clicked with Anne so effortlessly. It felt like you were the missing puzzle piece that belonged and fitted into his life perfectly. While listening and occasionally hopping onto the conversation when prompted, he had learned several things about you such as your favorites and pet peeves, but it hadn't answered the burning questions he had about what had occurred in class earlier.

As much as the three of you hated to part ways, you and Ominis had to go back to the castle by nightfall, thus the both of you bid your farewell to the brunette-haired female. 

“Write to me, will you? I'd love to keep in touch,” Anne requests with hopeful eyes, clutching your hands in hers.

“Of course, I will. Can't have you feeling all lonely here,” you grinned while she giggles.

“Thank you for stopping by. Please visit whenever you can.” 

“Of course. You have my word.”

As soon as the wooden door closed shut, you turned to Ominis while biting your lip in hesitation.

“Gaunt, let's walk for a bit,” you requested, much to his surprise. You cast your gaze downwards to his gloved hand before ripping your eyes away from it, clenching your fists to contain yourself. The both of you walked in silence, the faint crunching of snow audible beneath your feet at every step. Inhaling a lungful of air, your lips parted.

“Thank you… For bringing me out today.”

He smiles at his, a faint shade of pink creeping up to his cheeks.

“...It was a pleasure, truly,” Ominis chuckled softly, to which you responded with a rather diffident smile. “I certainly hope it alleviated your mood.”

“Oh, it definitely did. Anne is truly a darling. It's just that…” you trailed off, slowing the pace of your footsteps down. “... I can't exactly run away from this fear that easily.”

“Would lending my ear ease your thoughts? I can listen to your woes if you'd like.”

“Then... Can you keep another secret for me?”

“Consider it done. Go on.”

You walk towards a large, fallen log, deciding to sit on it while Ominis leans against a nearby tree. Releasing your bated breath, you began to tell him your recollections.

“Perhaps you're familiar with the kidnapping case from the Robard estate then? The one that killed Lawrence Robard?” you asked.

Ominis ponders, racking through his brain.

“Lawrence Robard? The Auror?” 

“Yes, him. He’s a relative — my uncle, to be precise,” you smile sadly. “He was a great man. Dove right into a dark wizard’s hideout to save me and my brother. But Simon… Well…”

A pregnant silence ensued as your words trailed off in the wintry winds, your sorrow-filled orbs gazing at the snow-laden trees from a distance. Ominis crosses his arms with his wand still in hand, a frown visible on his visage.

“Your brother… He’s your Boggart, isn’t he?” 

A melancholic smile curls upon your lips, glancing at him with a rather impressed look.

“You know, I'm quite thankful that you're incredibly astute. Saves me the trouble of explaining everything myself,” you chuckled bitterly. “But yes. Simon is my Boggart. Survivor's guilt, I suppose? He took an Unforgivable Curse for me, and I've never forgiven myself for his death ever since.”

His heart sank at the revelation, casting his unseeing gaze downwards.

“... I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. You've tremendously helped me today, and you deserve my thanks,” you reassured. You grabbed a handful of snow, mindlessly molding it into the shape of a ball as you continued on.

“It's just rather frustrating that this relapse happened in the middle of winter. I'd normally console myself by picking all sorts of flowers. Simon and I loved the outdoors, and we'd often make little flower chains for our mum when we were children,” you explained, recalling the fond memory of your childhood before everything went completely awry.

Ominis hums in response, pointing his wand at a random pile of snow nearby. A small pile of snow levitates into the air, which then forms itself into the shape of a daisy flower crown. The snow-made crown hovered above your head before it was dropped rather unceremoniously, instantly getting destroyed at the top of your head. Your face scrunched at the sudden coldness that hit your skin, looking at the pale-skinned male in gleeful amusement.

“Is this your way of consoling me, Gaunt?” you giggled, brushing the bits of snow off your head and face while a blush rose to his face out of mild embarrassment. 

“Well, it was an attempt, I suppose. It was a lot better in my head, though. Hold on, let me try again,” he chuckles sheepishly, scooping more snow into his gloved palms while a mildly teasing laugh erupted from you.

The pile of fluffy snow began compressing itself to form a solid, single rose, which drifted towards you. You beamed, gently grasping the snow rose into your hands, marveling at its daintiness and intricacy. 

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered before trailing your eyes to him once again. He had his eyes shut and a smug, playful smirk plastered on his strikingly handsome face. His arms were crossed again, leaning back against the tree trunk, enjoying the pleasant silence. 

It was supposed to be a depressing day after everything that had transpired, yet here you were, seated on a log amidst the snow with the man you hadn't planned on getting along with in your wildest dreams. The icy walls of your resolve were slowly melting away, being reduced to nothing but a puddle thanks to the burning inferno of your ever-growing feelings towards him growing wilder and wilder.

His kindness, consideration, astuteness, playfulness… Everything about him made your heart race.

In your eyes, time ceased to exist — the world stilling as everything else except him falls into a pit of irrelevance. You gaze upon him with ardent longing and admiration, blatantly disregarding the boundaries you had rebelliously trespassed in the name of your heart's desires. Ominis opened his unseeing eyes, feeling your burning stare towards him.

“You do know that I can feel you staring, right?” he asks in his usual teasing manner. You opened your mouth to retort your typical answer to his jest, but a lump lodged within your throat, almost as if you were being prevented from saying something so blatantly insincere.

And thus, for the first time, you couldn't bring yourself to deny that statement anymore.

< chapter 9: uncontrollably fond

chapter 11: the duality of man >

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