#ooc: gone invisible

[mythcaels-a]

minjee will likely steal your heart and your wallet in the same day so im sorry about the first person that interacts with her

[skullvgirl]

needy!nagi ིྀ | headcannons

incl. nagichi ≧▽≦

warnings: school!au, suggestive, fem reader, fluff ooc ( ? )

an's: idrk if this follows the theme of [ ooc trait x character ] yall, nagi is kinda need no?

needy!nagi who follows you around, everyyyywhere, like theres an invisible leash attached to your hand and his neck, you literally had to force him too leave when he tried following you into the bathroom

needy!nagi who calls for you to do even the littlest things, because somehow you 'do it better' or 'make it look easier'

needy!nagi who forgets all rules physical boundaries when he's near you, who has to hold you always and for as long as possible

needy!nagi who makes the biggest fuss when you have to leave the house without him. even if it's just a 5 minute outting from your house to the store he acts like your moving half way across the world { but you are he'd say }

needynagi who texts you all the time, 24/7 365 days a year is always blowing up your phone asking you and talking about the most redicoulus things

"did you tie your shoes before you went out ?"

"did you make sure too look both ways when crossing the street?"

and don't even get me started on when he's needy, needy

an obnoxious and repetitive beeping sounds on your alarm and you groan, twisting your body uncomfortably in the shared bed sheets before finally turning it off.

"seriously morning already..." you mumbled quietly, the darkness shrouding your thoughts.

i need to get ready for school.

and you did just that. at least you were going to before you realized there was another person in your bed, someone who felt very familiar.

oh no...

"nagi ???" you whisper-yelled it, patting his face lightly and turning the lamp on to get a clear veiw of your boyfriend.

"nagi wake up, your not supposed to be here" you sat up and began shakimg him this time.

nagi only groaned and wrapped his arms around his arms around your waist, nuzzling into the side of your thigh. "shhh, m' tryna sleep"

you shook your head and attempted to unwrap his hands from your body, with much struggle, he was surprising strong for being half asleep.

"nagi stop, nagi it's monday—a school day, you were supposed to be gone last night, why didn't your parents pick you up?"

"didnt tell them too"

"didnt tell them too...whadday mean didn't tell them too—im gonna get in trouble—wait a minute, nagi you didn't..."

"didnt what" his voice unmuffled as he moved his head to rest on your lap, his eyes staring directly at your own.

"you didnt lie to your parents and say you could stay for the whole week...did you?" you cupped his cheeks, studying his expression.

he didn't answer, "kiss me"

"nagi now is not the time—"

"kiss me pretty, please?"

you stared at him for a moment before leaning down, softly pressing your lips on his.

"good now?"

he looked dazed, and he was quiet so long you'd thought he didn't hear you. "almost"

your hands which had previously been rubbing soothing strokes across his face were quickly held behind your back.

he kissed your belly softly, relentlessly pressing butterflies into your body. "nagi that tickles" you giggled, trying to break free from his grasp.

"really? does it?" he murmured, rubbing his nose in the crevasse of your thigh.

"it does, now let go we have to get ready for school before my parents wake up"

he continued nuzzling your body however, then began slowly pushing his other hand against your chest to lean you back.

"i can make you feel alot more than tickling if you let me"

your cheeks felt hot. jeez, what has gotten into him !

"mmh, tempting but we cant and you know that—look it's already 6:09 we gotta g—OH!"

your stentence was cut off by the sensation of nagi feeling you through your shorts. his hands releasing your wrists long ago, he was now tugging at your pj's in hot desperation, probing his nose against your—

"nagi! what are you doing! school remember? we have to be there at 7"

"but do we reallyyyy..." nagi groaned, the vibrations sending shudders up your spine.

"y-yes, really, we have to be there, my parents own this house remember? not me"

"fine, but ill only go under one condition"

you sighed in preparation, for whatever rediculous reason was coming your way.

"and that is?"

"i get to stay over for the rest of the week AND, you sit on this right here..." he pointed too his mouth, and you squeezed your thighs together at the proposition.

"nagi, staying over defeats the purpose of you leaving, a-and i dont think that second option would be good for us either..."

"you wanna test to see?"

"i-i,—test and see what?"

"how bad our second option would be"

"..." he began moving in your silence, flipping your legs over his shoulders and kissing your belly once again.

"i'll take that as a yes"

an's: nagi is needy but somehow this still came out ooc, ( do i consider that a win or what...? )

[dotster001]

When You Escape Him, Staff

Summary: Yandere staff x gn!reader. He adopts a child that looks like the two of you. You run to give you both a chance at life. You never expected him to find you.

CW: yandere content, Stockholm syndrome, blackmailing, potentially ooc?, the void, implied previous injury,

A/N: It's finally finished! There are some spin off stories coming but they will not be weekly updates. I'll write them when I write them. Also, I know I said that I'd put out a poll for what series would get weekly updates, but I've gotten so many questions about Elder God, that I'm gonna do that one. Probably won't be Sunday's, but whenever I release the next part will start the cycle.

Heartslaybul Savannaclaw Octavinelle Scarabia Pomefiore Ignihyde Diasomnia Non NRC

Three years into your relationship, he had come home and placed a baby in your arms.

"They were left in a box, all alone. And, well, he looks like if the two of us had a child," he sheepishly stared at the ground. "I just, I just figured it must be a gift from the seven."

You knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to tie himself to you through this boy. He looked just like him, and you were disgusted and scared.

Until he opened his eyes for the first time, and you found yourself staring into your own.

And you knew. You had to give this child the opportunity for a better life. A life without him.

In the end, your son did the opposite of what he had intended. And the first moment you could, the two of you had escaped.

To this day, you had no idea how you had escaped. But you had, and you'd been able to smuggle yourselves off the island and far away.

Your son had started to display signs of magical ability when he was three. You hoped it stayed a miniscule amount, considering you'd heard some people were just magic sensitive.

By the time he was eight, you realized you were not going to be lucky. By the time he turned twelve, you were burning the flyers that the dark mirror magically sent out. By sixteen, you and your son were full on panicking about the scouts that might come by to observe him, and the acceptance letter that would show up at the house.

It was a completely normal day. You'd gone to pick up your son from school, when his teacher excitedly came out to meet you.

“I have amazing news! A representative from NRC came today to test a few of our students!”

You froze.

“S/N was one of the one's they called, and he's been being tested for hours now! He's a shoe in! You must be so proud!”

You nodded rigidly, a stiff smile on your face.

She led you inside, and to one of the teacher conference rooms. Up to this point, you knew there was a chance it wasn't him. If it was anyone else, you could bargain with them.

The door opened, and your hopes were dashed.

“Ah! Welcome, welcome! I was just telling our precious chick that he has a place waiting for him among the students of our esteemed academy! He's almost as powerful as his papa! I couldn't be prouder!” At the last statement, Crowley brushed away an invisible tear.

“And I told him that I have no interest,” your son muttered angrily as he stared down at the table.

Crowley didn't react to what sounded like not the first refusal your son had given, and patted his lap excitedly.

As though everything was normal and you'd just go back to the nest.

“S/N,” you said coldly, calling him to your side. It wasn't like you were alone. If you and your son ran, shouting along the way, surely one of the teachers would hear you and get help. Your son stood to walk over to you.

It happened in seconds. His golden eyes flashed in mild irritation, and by the time you reacted he had already entered your space, and hoisted you over his shoulders.

“I consider myself a very magnanimous person, but you are pressing my patience.”

You shouted obscenities at him, trying to fight your way out of his grip, but to no avail.

“Stop squirming, or I will have to clip your wings-”

“Leave them alone!” Your son shot a fire spell at Crowley. A field around him blocked it, but he gazed at his son in parental pride.

“Just like his papa!”

“YOU'RE NOT MY PAPA!” He screamed, a blaze of fire exploding from around him.

It wasn't his fault he'd lost control. But you had a brief moment where you realized that without the field around Crowley, that would have killed you. As it was, the room was ablaze, and quickly growing out of control, causing your son to forget his anger, and panic.

Crowley sighed, and set you down. He summoned his staff, and quickly doused the fire. Then he turned to your son.

“I am a very generous man. I can pay for the damages done to the school. Which, judging by what I am seeing, is extensive. However, you both must come back to the nest.”

Your son just stared at him.

“If I don't pay for it, how do you think either of you is going to be able to pay this off? Especially not when word gets out that you attacked the Headmage of NRC. You will spend the rest of your life in debt that will continue to grow.”

“You're bluffing,” your son spat.

He definitely wasn't bluffing. You knew exactly what lengths he was willing to go to. You couldn't look him in the eye, opting to stare at the floor as you whispered,

“We'll come with you.”

“No!”

“We don't have a choice. Trust me, I know.”

“Aw, don't talk like that, treasure,” he said happily, scooping you back up and nuzzling his cheek against yours.

Your son looked at you with heart broken eyes. But there was nothing you could do. You'd always known what it looked like when he'd beaten you.

He'd let you leave…

You never wrapped your head around it.

He'd let you leave. Watched you walk out the door with your son. Hadn't said a word.

And he hadn't come after you. 

It had been four years since then. You'd been doing as well as a single parent could do.

Any accounts you had created and hid from him, your government paperwork, your social media accounts; all of it was gone. The second you stepped foot out of his mansion, he'd canceled and frozen anything and everything you had in your name. You had started from square one.

But you were alive. And so was your son. You had found a job, and had built a small life for the both of you.

But this most recent set of bills was going to upset the delicate balance.

You stared down at the statements, and sighed. You wanted to cry. You'd fought so hard. But it all amounted to nothing. The weight of the world was crushing you, and it was all you could do to keep yourself from letting it show to your son.

An unknown number appeared on your phone. You picked up. Probably a debt collector. Maybe you could come up with an excuse.

“Are you done playing pretend? You're not cut out to be a stray.”

You stiffened.

“How did you get this number?”

“You're not in a position to ask me questions. How does it feel to be all alone? To bite your master, then get beaten by a wild pack of wolves?”

You stared back down at the bills, biting your lip.

“Nothing to say?” You could hear the amusement in his tone. It disgusted you, but he was right. You weren't in a position to fight him.

“What do you want?” You spat.

“I want you to admit you need me. That you can't support yourself and the pup, and that I'm the only one who is able to properly take care of you.”

“What the fuck-”

“I want you to tell me that you understand that a dog is useless without a master to care for it.”

“Gah! I'm not saying anything like that!”

“Alright,” he spat, hanging up before you could say anything else.

You angrily slammed your phone against the table. 

“What's going on?” You heard your son's sleepy voice say. You turned over your shoulder, and saw him rubbing his eyes, staring at you sleepily. He was so small. So innocent. He deserved so much more.

You opened your arms, and he ran into them, snuggling against you.

“Baby, how would you feel if Daddy brought us home?”

“Daddy?”

“Yeah. We got separated, but I think he found us. Which means-”

“Daddy could take us home?”

You felt bile rise in your throat. Home. Home was stolen from you forever when a certain alchemy professor had decided you were his. But maybe home would be different for your boy. And you couldn't take that from him.

“Yeah,” you whispered.

You redialled the unknown number, half expecting him not to pick up. But he did, immediately.

You put it on speaker, and after a moment of silence, you heard, “Well?”

Your son was faster than you.

“Daddy, please come get us!”

Crewel’s breath hitched, and his voice was infinitely more tender when he spoke again.

“Of course, puppy. Daddy's coming to get you.”

Your son looked up at you with excited, warm eyes. Maybe this was for the best. It would be selfish of you to keep putting him through this. He had a father who would give him the stars in the sky if he so much as looked at them a certain way. Meanwhile, you could barely take care of yourself.

“We'll be waiting,” you said quietly.

You half expected him to go back to sounding angry and disappointed. Instead, he released a soft sigh, and said in a voice so kind that it brought tears to your eyes, “I've missed you, love.”

Sam's "friends" used to frighten you. They were the one's in charge of keeping you quiet in the back room while he worked. 

Over time, you'd grown to tolerate them. They were terrifying. But they left you alone for the most part.

The day Sam had placed your son in your arms was the first time they'd spoken to you. You'd been alone, staring at your own hollow eyes in the mirror, reflecting on how you had to get this child away from him, when a whispery voice had hissed in your ear.

“We can free you.”

You'd refused to trade your soul, but you'd given up ten years of your life span. Over the years, they would update you if you needed to move. They would tell you what he was up to. They would hide you from new “friends” who would try to find you. 

It was your son's 16th birthday. And something was wrong.

The "friend" who had offered you the deal in the first place was missing. They were always around, except for when Sam needed them. It was odd for them not to be there. 

And you, yourself, felt weird. You'd woken up to a tingle in the tips of your fingers, and a disco party in your chest.  You gotten up to wake up your son, then prepared him a birthday pancake. You placed a candle into it, and were about to light it, when it lit itself.

“Hello, friend,” you muttered. “Is something wrong? It's not like you to be gone for so long.”

You felt phantom fingers detangling a knot in your hair, and a voice hissed in your ear, “We serve more than just you.”

They sounded…oddly defensive. But you couldn't think about that now, because your son had just stumbled tiredly into the room.

“Aw, you shouldn't have,” he grinned when he saw the pancake. He leaned in and blew out the candle, before sitting down and digging in. You sat down in the seat next to him, digging into your own breakfast, when your “friend” released a hiss.

Suddenly, in the corner, a dark void opened up, and out stepped,

“Sam,” you whispered in terror, as you stood from your spot. You turned to your “friend” who was moving to join him.

“Hello, little imp. Long time no see,” he grinned at you, his eyes glowing bright lime as the room filled with fog from the void.

“Wait, I had a deal!” You shouted.

“We received a better offer,” your “friend”’s voice hissed with merciless glee. “Don't worry, we returned your ten years to you.”

“Damn, I wanted to see you for so long. But now that I see your face, I'm absolutely disgusted,” Sam spat bitterly.

The smoke wrapped around you like unbreakable ropes. You struggled against them, but they only grew tighter, quickly feeling suffocating.

He walked up to you, gripping your chin in his hand.

“I paid quite the price for you. And now I just want you to suffer like I did.”

“Wait-” your son cut in, seemingly finally able to break out of his shock.

This brought Sam's attention to him, his eyes filling with love and adoration.

“And there's my boy! Can you believe I spent years thinking a fate worse than death had befallen you?” Sam said sweetly.

“You're scaring me. Cut out whatever it is you're doing, and leave us alone!”

Sam's eyes flashed back to yours, a staff suddenly appearing in his hand.

“No. I made a deal after all.”

He stalked towards you, and you watched in horror as various shadow creatures restrained your son.

“I had to choose. You or my son.” The staff came up under your chin, pressing uncomfortably into your throat. “I used to worship you. And you gave me nothing,” he hissed. Then he smiled. “It wasn't that hard of a decision to make, really.”

His lips were pressed against yours, cutting off your air completely.

“Goodbye, Y/N,” he breathed against you. He then shoved you, and you fell backwards into darkness, his hate filled glowing gaze the last thing you saw.

“Please, just, don't tell anyone about us. He's not interested in becoming a mage.”

It felt like you were pleading for your life. Because you were. Crowley had arrived at your son's school to scout students for the college. The second your son had gotten word, he'd called you, and you'd rushed to the school, prepared with a lie about a doctor's appointment you'd both forgotten. Crowley moved far too fast though, and had already found your son.

“Y/N. My employees' well being is of great importance to me!” 

“I'm sure he's fine,” your son groaned in the seat next to you. “I really don't want to be a mage. So scout someone else, and leave us alone.”

Your boy was a good one. But his downfall was his strong sense of justice. You had never intended to tell him the lengths Ashton had gone to keep you, but he'd been relentless. You hadn't told him everything, but the both of you were pretty certain he might do something bad if he ever met the man.

Crowley looked at you both in disappointment. You remembered that look. It brought you back to your Ramshackle days when you were asking him to install heat, and he'd made you feel like you were asking for a million dollars. But you weren't his student anymore. You weren't his slave. He had no control over you.

“It would be a great shame for someone of your abilities to waste them. And besides,” Crowley’s disappointed frown turned into a frightening grin. “Around this time of year, a certain physical education professor gets rather whiney, and makes it everyone's problem. Now, whose fault is that?” 

“He's a big kid. If he can't move on, that's his own fault. And if it's a problem, you can fire him,” you said bluntly, not going to feel guilted for what you'd done.

Crowley leveled a glare at you.

“I gave you a home. I gave you money. I gave you an expensive education, for free. I allowed you to keep your cat, and eventually your son. You owe me.” He snapped his fingers, and the mirror in the corner swirled to life. Suddenly, he was behind the both of you, yanking you from your seats, and shoving you through the mirror.

You both landed in a patch of grass, right behind a burly man in a memorable red sweatshirt. He hadn't noticed you yet. You pressed your finger to your lips, and pointed to the nearby woods. Your son nodded, and you both turned slowly.

Only to bump straight into Crowley.

“For Seven's sake, Ashton! Get it together!” Crowley snapped, causing the man of the hour to finally look over his shoulder.

His eyes widened, and he ran straight for you, wrapping you in a hug so tight that you thought your ribs might break. Again.

“Ashton,” you wheezed, feeling the familiar feeling of panic you always felt when he was involved. 

“You're so scrawny,” he muttered in your ear. You were always “too scrawny” to him. But of course it would be the first thing he'd say to you after so long of being apart. 

“I can't believe you survived out there,” he boomed loudly, holding you by the shoulders at arms length, looking you up and down with a jovial smile.

“Put them down!” Your son snapped, shaking you out of your fear momentarily. You looked over your shoulder to see him tied up in Crowley's “whips of love”.

Ashton’s eyes brightened even further.

“Ha ha! You look just like your old man! A few hundred pushups, and you'll be just as strong as I am!”

“Fuck you!” 

Ashton's eyes darkened, and turned back to you, reigniting your terror tenfold. His grip on your shoulders tightened painfully.

“What have you been saying about me, Y/N?”

You shivered in terror. You knew that look.

“I didn't-”

“You don't deserve our love, you monster!”

Ashton tossed you to the side like you were nothing. You winced. He never seemed fully aware of what his strength was capable of. He marched up to your son, snatching him from Crowley.

“Looks like we need to do some training, to whip ya into shape.”

He snatched you under his other arm, storming off in the direction of the school.

“Vargas! Your students!” Crowley called after him, but he was completely ignored.

You were thoroughly soaked from the rain outside. You stood before him, staring at the ground in shame as he silently sipped tea, and studied you. Eventually, he sighed, standing up and placing the baby in the bassinet in the corner of his spacious bedroom. He returned to his seat, and sighed again.

“To say I am disappointed would be an understatement,” Mozus said sternly. 

The door had been unlocked. In a moment of stupidity, you'd taken the chance to grab the baby and run. You hadn't realized that Trein had put up countless charms around the estate, including one that allowed the topiary knights to drag you back to him. If that wasn't enough, it was pouring. A mud puddle had been your undoing.

You dripped onto the floor, awaiting the speech and upcoming punishment.

“Look at me when I talk to you,” he snapped, and you quickly looked up. His face and demeanor were calm, but his eyes glinted in anger.

“I trained you to be a better spouse than this. What in the Seven's names were you thinking?”

He paused, seeming to wait and see what brilliant answer you would provide.

“I don't know,” you whispered.

“You don't know. Well, do you have any hints?”

You honestly didn't. Things had been peaceful recently. Up until the moment you ran out the door, you had convinced yourself you were finally able to be happy here. But seeing that unlocked door had stirred something in you. A final rebellion. A chance for your son, who shouldn't have to grow up under Trein's tyranny.

Now that you were under his scrutiny, however, all of that seemed to fade away. Instead, you were filled with embarrassment and guilt.

“I'm sorry,” you whimpered.

His glare softened into pure disappointment. Which, somehow, made you feel worse.

“Sorry won't clean the mud off my carpet,” he said tiredly. He looked you up and down, before pouring himself another cup of tea. 

“I know.”

“You know I can't leave this unpunished?”

“Yes.”

He looked at you, unreadable, before he nodded to the door.

“Go clean yourself up, then wait for me in your room while I decide on your punishment.”

You nodded, trudging towards the door. Then the baby started to softly cry. Instinctively, you turned the child. Trein's expression turned soft, more tender. 

“Go ahead,” he said, his voice full of love.

You picked up the baby, and made your way to your room.

[newtthetranswriter]

Hi could I get a natsu x reader where before Lucy joined the guild natau and the reader go on a mission together but goes horribly wrong which causes the reader to go in a coma and doesn't wake up when Lucy joins and when the reader wakes up she looses her memories so natsu does everything to get them back for her making him feel guilty

Burning Memories

Word count: 3198

Paring: Natsu x fem reader

Warnings: Amnesia, possibly ooc Natsu, the timeline may be wonky but hey whatever, let me know if I missed anything

A/n: Hello, thank you so much for the request. Sorry it took a while but I’m happy with how it turned out. The ending isn’t perfect but if anyone is interested I’d be willing to make a part two. Anyways I hope you enjoy and as always remember to hydrate or diedrate.

   He had no idea what went wrong. It was supposed to be an easy mission, kill the monster and collect the reward. That’s it, they had done this kind of job hundreds of times so how did it go so wrong. Watching the beast slam Y/n into the wall behind him scared him. Not because he feared for his own safety, but because why wasn’t she moving. That was the only thought going through the Salamander’s mind.

   After barely managing to distract the monster, he grabbed Y/n and ran. Natsu’s only priority was getting Y/n back to Fairy Tail and getting her help. As he rushed back to the guild hall with his unconscious partner, he couldn’t help but thank whatever higher power that their job wasn’t far from Magnolia. After all he wouldn’t trust just some random person to take care of Y/n.

   When he arrived at the guild hall, he was greeted at first with the normal ruckus of the Guild. But as soon as they noticed the wizard in his arms and the panicked look on his face, every one went silent. Makarov acted first, instructing Mirajane to lead Natsu to the infirmary and ordering for Gray to fetch Porlyusica. Once Natsu had laid Y/n in one of the beds he refused to move until he knew how Y/n was doing. It took Gray and Elfman to pull him out of the room so Porlyusica could check on her.

   The wait for news was stressful to say the least. If anyone walked into the guild hall at that time they would see two things. First being that the entire guild was silent, and second being Natsu knocked out and trapped by one of Freed’s enchantments. It was the best bet for everyone to knock him out because while he was awake he wouldn’t stop trying to get back to the infirmary.

  After what felt like hours Makarov and Porlyusica exited the room. As if sensing a change in the room Natsu shot up slamming into the invisible wall around him. “How is she? Is she ok? Let me outta this thing.” He was frantic as he tried to get out and to his friend.

  “You’re not leaving that enchantment until you calm down. As for Y/n, all we can do is wait. She’s still unconscious and we are unsure when she’ll wake up.” Makarov said, silencing the fire wizard. Everyone else in the Guild was silent taking in the information, one of their own was hurt and there’s nothing else they could do. Eventually Porlyusica left the hall, leaving the Fairies to worry by themselves.

   After about a month there was no sign of improvement in Y/n’s condition. She still laid in the infirmary bed unmoving. Natsu had spent nearly every day sitting by her bed telling her about everything that has been happening in the Guild. And not that he would admit it but when it got late and Happy would fall asleep on the unconscious girl’s chest, Natsu would beg for her to just wake up so he could apologize for letting her get hurt.

   It had been another two months with no sign of improvement in Y/n’s condition, and Natsu hadn’t gone on a job since the incident, wanting to be there when she woke up. But eventually a rumor reached the guild hall of a so-called Salamander in the port town of Hargeon. After much convincing from Happy and Mirajane, Natsu finally left the guild hall. If there was no sign of Y/n waking soon he might as well see if this Salamander was Igneel.

   Time skip

    Now four months after the tragic incident, there was still no sign of improvement. Even though she had long since healed from the injuries, Y/n was still in a coma. And while the entire guild was worried about her they all continued to go about their lives. Natsu even somewhat returned to his normal self. Fighting with Gray over random things and going on jobs with Happy and Lucy. Even if he began to settle back into things, he couldn’t shake the guilt he felt over his comatose friend.

    Not wanting her to think he forgot about her, Natsu would take one day after each job where he would sit with her and just tell her about how things had been going. He knew she likely couldn’t hear him but it gave him a sense of peace to talk with her again. There was also a small piece of him that hoped talking with her would help her wake up sooner. And that’s how life went for the dragon slayer, for some time. Go on jobs with Lucy and then return to the guild hall to update Y/n about how the job had gone.

    Time skip

     After taking an S-Class job without permission, being nearly killed by Erza for taking said mission, and finally completing the job; all Natsu wanted to do was get back to the guild and update Y/n on how he completed an S-class job. But what he was not expecting was to enter the guild hall and be faced with the clearly wide awake Y/n speaking with Mirajane. He was rendered speechless as he took in the sight. His best friend who had been unconscious for months was up and walking around like nothing happened.

    “Hey Flamebrain, are you going to actually go in or are you just going to block the door?” Gray asked, trying to get Natsu to step into the guild hall instead of standing frozen in his spot.

    Natsu didn’t respond, he just kept his eyes focused on Y/n’s smiling face. So many emotions were running wild in his mind, not knowing how to respond to this new development. The group behind him, looked around the frozen mage three of them being just as stunned by the sight and the fourth being slightly confused.

    “Who’s that talking with Mira? And why do you guys look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Lucy asked not having seen Y/n before now.

     “It’s Y/n.” Was the only response she got from Natsu before he moved across the hall.

     The blonde took a moment to process what he said before realization struck her. “Wait, that's Y/n. But I thought she’s been in a coma since before I joined the guild?” She asked turning to the Ice wizard next to her.

     “She was, but I guess she woke up while we were gone.” Gray answered, also moving to greet his friend. Erza and Happy also followed, excited to check on their friend.

     As the group arrived next to Y/n and Mira, Natsu was once again at a loss for words. Unsure of how to speak to Y/n after spending so long talking and not receiving any response. When he finally settled on what to say, He was cut off.

   “Gray, Erza it’s great to see you guys. I’m sorry to have worried you guys for so long.” Y/n said smiling at the two wizards, completely ignoring the pink haired man beside them. “How did your mission go?” She asked.

    The small group all shared a slightly concerned look, because prior to the incident, if Natsu had gone on a job without her, Y/n would immediately demand an update on how it went. But now, she showed no sign of interest in Natsu, not even looking in his direction. “It went pretty well, if it wasn’t for the hot head over here though I might have died.” Gray said, taking notice of the clear confusion on her face when he pointed to said hot head. “Anyway, how are you doing? When did you wake up?” He asked.

    Y/n shook off the confusion, before smiling back at Gray. “Oh, I’m good. I woke up yesterday. Again I’m sorry for causing so much trouble, you all must have been super worried.” She said, glancing to the side at the somewhat familiar stranger next to her. “It also looks like we got a few new guild members. Hi, I’m Y/n it’s nice to meet you both.” Y/n turned to where Natsu and Lucy were standing holding out her hand for them to shake.

    That one interaction caused Natsu to finally break. “What do you mean ‘nice to meet you’ ? You've known me for years. We’ve been partners for years. Hell, I sat with you almost everyday while you were in your coma.” Natsu said his anger was bubbling up. He didn’t mean to sound upset or rude, he was just confused. Had Y/n really forgotten the last five years of her life? No that wasn’t it, she was talking with Gray and Erza like she normally would.

     “I’m sorry Natsu, I should have had someone meet you at the door and worn you. For some reason it seems that Y/n has forgotten some things.” Mirajane said, taking notice of the troubled look that was now present on Y/n’s face.

     Mira’s words however did nothing to calm Natsu, if anything it made things worse. “What do you mean ‘some things’? She clearly remembers all of you. It’s clear that I’m the only one she forgot.” He snapped, causing the whole guild hall to fall silent.

     “Hey calm down Natsu, I’m sure she’ll remember you soon. She was in a coma for almost five months, you have to give her time to readjust.” Gray said, placing a hand on Natsu’s shoulder hoping to calm him down.

     Natsu just scoffed, shrugging the wizards hand off of him. “Easy enough for you to say. Y/n remembers you.” He said turning away from the group. “Whatever, I’m going for a walk. Are you Happy?” He asked the cat as he began to make his way out of the guild hall, through the back doors. 

    The blue cat looked at his friends who were slightly shocked from the wizard’s outburst. “I’ll try to talk to him. It’s good to see you awake Y/n.” Happy said before conjuring his wings and flying after his friend. “Wait for me Natsu.”

     After the door closed behind the two, all eyes were on Y/n. “Hey are you alright?” Gray asked, noticing that the girl was holding back tears. 

     Y/n just shook her head. She had no idea what just happened, but seeing the pink haired wizard upset and storming out of the guild hall because of her made her heart hurt for some reason.

    “You really don’t remember Natsu, do you?” Erza asked, concerned for both her friends.

    Processing the question, Y/n tried to dig up any memories of the fire dragon slayer, but came up blank. “I’m sorry. I really don’t know who he is.” She said shaking her head, trying to pull up the missing memories was really irritating her. “Really, I’m sorry. I want to remember him. I never want to hurt my friends in any way, but I just don’t know who that is.”

    The group was silent and eventually the rest of the guild went back to their regular conversations. After thinking for a moment, Lucy got an idea. “Wait, you remember Happy don’t you?” Lucy asked, receiving a nod paired with a confused look. “Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Lucy, a celestial wizard, and don’t worry about having forgotten me, I joined while you were in your coma. But anyway, if you remember Happy then you should have memories of Natsu. Afterall, they never really leave each other’s side.” Lucy explained her idea after introducing herself.

   Y/n thought for a moment trying to remember anything that had to do with Happy. Of course she remembered the blue cat who could fly and talk, but even looking back she couldn’t remember the pink haired wizard. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I can remember Happy clearly, but I still have no idea who this Natsu is.” She said, holding on to her hair in frustration.

   “Hey it’s okay, you went through a lot. Just relax, I'm sure the memories will come back with time.” Erza said, resting a hand on Y/n’s shoulder. “For now we just have to be patient and try to jog your memory somehow.”

   Y/n just nodded. “I should go talk to him though. He’s upset with me and I don’t know why but it hurts to know that I caused his pain.” She said looking at the requip wizard. “Do any of you know where he may have gone?” She asked, looking at her friends.

   “I don’t know if that’s a good Idea Y/n. Natsu’s a hot head, and he seemed really upset. Maybe you should give him some time.” Gray said, hoping to persuade Y/n to not go after the mage. Seeing the look of desperation on her face, Gray sighed. “Fine, He’s probably sitting at the beach behind the guild hall.” He pointed towards the back of the hall.

   She nodded in thanks before running out of the hall. Y/n may not remember Natsu but she felt the need to make sure he was okay. Once outside she looked to the shower line, seeing the pink haired wizard sitting with his knees to his chest. Next to him sat Happy who looked to be trying to cheer him up.

   “What do you want? It’s not like you know me, so why are you out here?” Natsu spat, not even turning around.

   Resisting the urge to turn around and leave, Y/n just walked closer and sat beside him. “I just wanted to make sure you are okay. Even if I don’t know you, my emotions are responding to yours.” She said, hoping to get him to open up.

   He just turned to look at Happy who sat on his opposite side. “Yeah right, Erza or Gray probably sent you to try and get me to calm down.” He was being defensive. Natsu wanted to believe Y/n so badly but he couldn’t get his hopes up. 

   “That’s not true. I came out here because seeing you so upset because of me hurt. It felt like my heart was going to break if I didn’t come check on you. My mind doesn’t know you but my body does. Please just talk to me. I want to know why I feel this way.” Y/n practically begged the Dragon slayer to listen. She didn’t know why she was so desperate for him to talk with her, but she couldn’t ignore the feeling.

   Natsu sighed before looking out at the water in front of them. “We’ve been best friends since you joined Fairy Tail five years ago. It was alway me, you and happy going on jobs and kicking ass.” Natsu began explaining. Y/n just listened hoping that something he said would trigger a memory. “You even helped me kick Gray’s ass a few times. On long train rides you’d do anything to keep my mind off my motion sickness. If you were having a bad day, I was the first to know. Everything was great until five months ago.” He reminisced, looking over hoping something clicked for Y/n.

  “When I got put in a coma?” Y/n asked, earning a sad nod from her companion. “I remember going on a job that was supposed to just be taking out a monster that was causing trouble in the forest, but something went wrong. Next thing I knew I was in the guild hall being told it’s been five months.” She explained what she remembered, curious what Natsu had to do with it. “But I thought it was a solo job?”

   Natsu shook his head. “You’re right about the monster in the woods causing trouble, but it wasn’t a solo job. We took the job because it was routine for us, track down the beast, roast it, and collect our pay. But apparently the job request got put on the wrong board.” He explained looking back at the water. “It was supposed to have gone up on the S-Class board, but was put on the regular one by mistake. Anyway, we went out looking for it and quickly found it in a cave. It was going fine until I looked to make sure Happy was ok and the beast grabbed you.” He was gritting his teeth at the memory. “By the time I heard your scream, you had been throwing into the wall. I acted as fast as I could distracting the beast, before grabbing your limp body and running as fast as I could to the guild hall for help.'' By the time Natsu finished retelling what was surely one of the worst days of his life he was holding back tears.

   Y/n sat stunned hearing the whole story of what had happened that day. “Wow, I’m so sorry. If I was stronger than I wouldn’t have gotten hurt like that and I would still know who you are.” Y/n said playing with the sand beneath her feet.

   “You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s not your fault. If anything it’s mine for not realizing that the reward on the job was too much for a regular request. It’s my fault for not keeping an eye on you. It’s my fault for not being strong enough to protect you.” Natsu said, each sentence conveying more of his guilt. “I’m sorry, Y/n because I was weak, you got hurt and lost five months of time. If anything, you forgetting me is like my punishment for failing as a friend.” He finished, his tears that he was holding back now freely falling down his face.

    As Natsu buried his face in his scarf, Y/n was at a loss. “It’s not your fault. I may not remember exactly what happened but you can’t take the blame. And you can’t possibly think me forgetting you is just punishment for you. It’s hell finding out that there’s this person who I apparently spent so much of my life with that I no longer remember. I want to remember you, every fiber of my being is begging me to recognise you, but nothing comes up.” Y/n said, letting her tears fall. “If we truly are as close as you say we are, please help remember you, Natsu.” She asked, looking him in the eyes when he turned to face her.

   Coming to a decision, Natsu quickly jumped to his feet. “Right, I can help you get your memories back. It’s my fault you lost them therefore it’s my responsibility to help you get them back.” He said proudly looking at Y/n, offering a hand to help her up.

    “How do you plan to do that Natsu?” Happy asked, flying to be eye level with the two humans.

    Natsu thought for a moment before responding. “I’m not entirely sure, but I won’t give up until Y/n remembers everything.” He said, earning a sigh from his cat and a chuckle from his friend.

    It was true, none of them knew how to bring back Y/n’s memories, but Natsu was not going to give up. He would spend the rest of his life trying to help Y/n get her memories back, and if that didn’t work he would just make new ones with her.

[runningfrom2am]

leveling the playing field XIV

summary: with nowhere else to go after getting caught cheating to help lucy gray, you both make some desperately stupid decisions.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.2k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and mentions of abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there. oh, and manipulation (both of them lowkey)

masterlists // nav // requests

a/n: omg so the next part has over 5k words and its not even close to being done?? should i post it all at once or break it up?? lmk your thoughts! also!! i think there's only two parts left omg... BUT do not fear bc i'm also writing another little thing for this and i feel like i'll keep doing that :)

series masterlist

You run back out to the stage, just as the Covey band's song is about to end. It was the last one, you thought, if their at home rehearsals were any indicator. You climb back up the side with an exaggerated stumble in your step, drawing the attention of Lucy Gray. She gave you a confused look, having expected that you and Coriolanus would be quite busy, especially after your song. She didn't expect you back on stage at all that night.

You smile and take the mic before she can say goodnight to the audience. "How about one more? I've had a second wind!" You say, looking to the band for their approval. Everyone besides Lucy Gray just giggles at you and nods.

"Alrighty, well, we'd really love to but our Sage here has clearly had a bit to drink and needs to get home." Lucy Gray tries to save it with a joke.

"Oh, come on, Lucy Gray. Live a little!" You laugh, playfully nudging her shoulder. "Who wants one more!" You call out which is returned with whistles and claps of encouragement.

"Alright, alright. Just one more, though." She agrees, smile returning to her face as he shakes her head.

The song ends and the band is packing up, and you can only hope that Coryo is long gone. The floor empties out, and you watch as Maude Ivory hops off the stage.

"Hey, Maude Ivory!" You call after her, hiding the sense of urgency in your voice. "Hey, can you help me clean up the floor before you grab a drink? I'll grab you your water." You offer, hurrying behind her to keep her from going to the back room. You didn't want her to see the bodies you assumed were still back there.

"Yes ma'am." She nods, giving you a quick salute.

"It's not a lot today, just a few bottles we can reuse." You smile at her as she skips out to start at the opposite edge of the room. "Lucy Gray, c'mere." You call to her as she closes up her old guitar case.

"You okay?" She asks, confused by your sudden sobriety.

"Come with me." You whisper, leading her into the back hallway in front of the door.

She follows, worry creased into her brow. Suddenly, she notes the red spots across the front of your dress which were almost invisible under the stage lights and among the red accents of the fabric.

"Something happened, okay? You can't let them come back here." You insist, referring to her family. "And you can't tell anyone."

"What?" She asks in a hushed tone, glancing past you toward the door. "Is it Coriolanus?"

Before you can explain, she's pushing past you and shoving the door open. You follow her quickly, reaching your arms around her to cover her mouth to keep any kind of reaction from being heard. You effectively muffle a cry of shock, and she's shoving you away and turning to face you. "That's- that's Billy Taupe, and, and Mayfair-"

"Shh-" You hush her quickly. "It was self-defense, okay? She was going to get us all killed. You included."

"I- no, I don't-" She tries to articulate her thoughts as her eyes fill with tears.

"I know, okay? It's less than ideal. Coryo is handling it. We just have to stay quiet." You promise. "Let's just grab everything and bring it all out, pretend you saw nothing. Maude Ivory and CC can't see this, do you understand?"

She nods, sniffling and looking between the bodies. "Hey, don't look at them." You remind her, gently turning her chin toward you. "They hurt you. Now you can move on, okay?"

"Okay." She whispers shakily, nodding again as you gather all the Covey's backstage supplies to bring out.

The next morning, you're awoken to a pounding on the front door of the small home, the four of you who shared a room all shooting up at once.

You scramble to get a peek out the window, spotting the grey shade of peacekeeper uniforms and cursing.

"Who- who is it?" Maude Ivory asks, scared as she looks between you and Lucy Gray.

"Peacekeepers. Lucy Gray, we have to go." You say quickly, closing the shade and grabbing your dress and Lucy Gray's arm.

"What? What's happening?" Barb Azure asks, rubbing her eyes.

"They're going to bust in if you don't open the door. Just tell them Lucy Gray isn't home. Don't mention me and if they ask, you don't know who I am. Do you understand?" You ask frantically and the girl nods fearfully.

As quickly as possible, you and Lucy Gray are flying out the back door and making a sprint for the trees behind the house.

"Any sign of the guns, or the girl? Mayor Lipp is sure she did it, or at least knows who did." A gruff voice of one of the peacekeepers has you and Lucy Gray both looking at each other, hands clutched over your mouths to keep quiet.

"None." His comrade replies, standing almost directly beneath you after they searched the yard. Clearly not very thoroughly, if they didn't see you and Lucy Gray sitting only about ten feet above their heads.

You cringe as he walks right over your garden, crushing the blooming raspberry bushes. "They arrested Plinth. Just got word, apparently, he was involved with rebels." The first man speaks again, and your eyes widen.

"Plinth? He's two beds down from me. Didn't expect that from him. He's a nice guy."

"No, I know. Anyway, he'll be executed this afternoon." You have to bite your lip to keep it from shaking under your hand, as if somehow that could give you away.

"Whatever, we'll come back later to get her." One of them says, making their way back through the house.

You hide in the branches and leaves until you're sure they're gone before carefully unsticking yourself from the ridged bark you were sitting on for far too long. You carefully climb down after Lucy Gray, making a quick effort to pull any stray sticks of leaves from your hair.

"What are we gonna do? They think I did it, I didn't do it, they'll kill me!" Lucy Gray panics, and you think about it while you quickly change into your dress.

"I think you have we have to run. Like you planned to do. We just have to follow through." You tell her, nodding to yourself.

Lucy Gray sighs, tipping her head back to look up at the sky. "I didn't even really want to go, I just wanted to get Billy Taupe off my ass."

"Well, he won't be there now." You say, looking her over. "How were they going to break that girl out?"

"Lil?" Lucy Gray asks, confused as she looks back at you. "I... I don't know, but it doesn't matter now, does it?"

"Did they have a plan? Did they write it down anywhere?" You ask again.

"Well, yes, but they didn't write it down. It was too risky."

"Tell it to me. Every detail you can remember." You urge her, trying to settle the panic rising behind your ribs.

Coriolanus had been out all morning with his team, looking for the weapon that killed the mayor's daughter and praying every moment that they wouldn't find it. After breaking down the doors of countless homes, he thought he would start to feel better. There was no way they would be caught, but he was regretting not taking the initiative to hide them himself. That way, he would at least know.

With his issued weapon in his hand, they were pacing down a desolate street. By now the whole district knew to lock themselves away, except for whoever he just saw in his peripheral vision through a narrow sidestreet. He turns his head fully, just catching the ends of their hair and the red in their short dress before they disappeared. He stops, quickly taking the turn into the side street and looking back to make sure no one had seen him depart from the group.

With the bag of tools thrown over your shoulder, you tried your very best to be quiet while walking through the city. Walking down a sidestreet, you found it was a challenge to be both fast and silent. At the sound of footsteps behind you, you hold the bag in your arms to prevent the tools from knocking together and step into a narrow doorway, back pressed to the wall.

You're breathing heavily, but keep it steady as the footsteps on the gravel of the road come to a stop. You hear them turn, presumably looking in both directions. You're in the middle of cursing yourself for being spotted when you hear a whistle. A calling one, baiting you to peek out from your hiding spot, but you don't budge. Another whistle. "Hey, Y/N? Is that you?" The whistle is followed by Coryo's voice whispering your name, and you're infinitely relieved.

You stepped out quietly, and you couldn't help but smile when you saw his familiar face. He meets you halfway, and you're quickly wrapping your arms around him. "Coryo..." You sigh, not ready to let go of him just yet.

"Hey, Y/N/N..." He whispers back, kissing your head. "Are you okay? What are you doing out? You need to get home."

"I can't." You shake your head, finally dropping your arms from around him. "Did you hear Sejanus got arrested this morning? He's going to be executed."

Coryo is in shock, jaw going slack as he tries to decide what to say. It must have been his recording, because there was nothing linking him to the murders.

"I'm going to break him out. Like they planned to do for that other girl."

Instantly at your statement, he shakes his head. "Absolutely not. You'll be caught and you'll be next. There's a poster of you in the head peacekeeper's office. I've seen it. They're looking for you here, it's too risky."

"I'm not going to let Sejanus die over something he didn't even do." You whisper, voice picking up in anger as you glare up at him.

"You can't, Y/N. I get why you'd want to, but it's not worth it." He insists.

"They won't catch us. I'm getting him out and we're running, just like they planned to do anyway."

Coryo scans your face for any sign at all that you may be kidding, but he finds none. "Don't. Don't go. I wanted to tell you this last night, but they're relocating me to Two. You can come with me. I'll get us both out of here."

"Closer to home?" You ask, a hint of hopefulness flitting in your eyes before it's quickly replaced with sadness. "Wait, no. No, they'll ship me back home, and then what? I'll be killed anyway, or worse." You sigh, shaking your head as you look down. This is probably about to turn into a goodbye you never wanted to say.

The idea of leaving him behind was breaking your heart, but would you really be leaving him? You knew what would happen to him. He'd go to Two, rise quickly in the ranks, and be elected president by the time he turned twenty-five. He would be okay, but would you be without him? You couldn't stomach the idea of taking such a bright future from him just because you had nothing left. "I have to go with them, Coryo. It's my only choice."

He can already see that there is no shot you'll be happy out there. You probably wouldn't last the week, either. He nods a little bit, taking your hand. "I'll come with you." He nods again, deciding it for himself. Coriolanus Snow is not about to say goodbye to the love of his life for the last time as someone she was pretending to be but never truly was, nothing more than a rebel from District Twelve.

"No, your relocation, it's your ticket home. You have to take it." You reply.

"It doesn't matter. If they find the gun, I'll be killed either way. Here, in Two, or back home. I can't escape it, same as you." He promises. "There's nothing for me there anyway. Not without you." Coryo says, rubbing his thumb gently over the side of your neck, warming the chilled skin there.

How could you say no? "Okay." You whisper, nodding slightly as your cheeks flush pink. "Can you leave tonight?"

"Uh, I, no." He shakes his head. "Earliest I can get away is sunrise."

"Shit... okay." You hum, looking around as if that will help you think. Undistracted from his all-consuming blue eyes looking into yours. "We can try and wait, then meet us at the hanging tree at dawn. If we're not there, hike to the cabin. We'll wait there if we can't hide here overnight."

He nods in confirmation, looking quickly over his shoulder as you both hear cheers and whoops of excitement making their way down the street toward you. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow." He agrees.

"See you tomorrow." You give him a small smile, turning to continue on your way when he grabs your wrist. He's quick to pull you back to him, colliding his lips with yours. He always kisses like he's starving. God, you wouldn't be able to live without that.

"Be careful, Y/N/N." He warns as he pulls away. "Stay safe."

"Yes sir, mister president." You grin, kissing him again quickly before walking away. You turn as you walk backward to face him, giving him a salute.

Coryo smiles to himself smugly, nodding at you before rushing to rejoin the other peacekeepers in his squad as they drag Spruce back toward the compound.

taglist: @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @klplynn , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @gloryekaterina , @andrewgarfieldsbitch , @queenofspades6 , @pepperonipastas , @ladybug0095 , @lunamothwrites , @sbrewer21 , @mus-tbe-a-weasley , @splxtscreen , @unclecrunkle , @karmaswitch , @coconut-dreamz , @nekee-lilac02 , @ooooglymoooogly , @riddlerloveb0t , @lovedbalances , @notyourwildestdream , @snowlandson-top , @too-lit-for-fanfic , @utopiakys , @deafeningballoonnacho , @roosterschanelslut , @chmpgneprblem , @cosmoetik , , @urvampgfsworld , @carolanns-world@nan-nie , @shakespearseclipse , @iovemoonyy , @notyoursweetheart-honey ,  @xyzstar , @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland , @queenofshinigamis , @elodiebeau , @soulessjourney

[seventhcallisto]

Just had a little idea... flashing lights and eyestrain warning.

❝you shine like emerald❞

LOADING...

Happy House.

Stray Kids (ot8) x F!Reader (9th member addition)

PREVIEW: "I am not a member of stray kids!" You kick up the papers littering the floor. Frustratingly pulling at your hoodie. "They're always screwing over those guys. I feel kinda bad." Your most trusted friend, Jiu, snickers behind her bright laptop screen. "I-i should have left when I had the chance! Should have joined that dance group that tried to recruit me! Why did I think I was gonna be the next jihyo!? Oh god." You pace, waving your hands around to drain the building anxiety curling into your lungs and making it's home there. You twist towards jiu falling to your knees and wailing miserably. Childishly.

"I wasn't even on the show. It's a boy group! I'm going to get eaten alive! I'm a trainee! They have years over me! I'm so dead. My career is already over before it started. My life is over." You fall to the floor. Completely done with this whole ordeal and the accident you've gone through, sniffling pitifully. "I told you to always read the fine print. You never listen." Jiu scolds. She, in fact, did not, but she wants to make you feel worse as your best friend. Pink nails flick tiny specks of popcorn towards your slumped body on the floor. And she's right. You should have read the fine print before some businessman shoved a pen into your face. What is so wrong with stray kids that you're being made a fool just to make them look bad? Would adding you tear the group dynamic? You know you're screwed as soon as your concept photos drop.

SYNOPSIS: As if some type of double-sided punishment, you're manipulated to join one of jyps' most successful groups. Stray Kids. Added as an extra member and with no experience just to cast you off as another unsuccessful idol, all because you didn't read the fine print when they dangled the keys to your dream in front of your face. They've got tricks up their sleeves, and the contract you signed says you're a permanent member of the unsuspecting group of guys now. You had no idea you were signing that type of contract. And you especially have no idea why they're trying to bring down their biggest boy group.

table of content + cws: she/her pronouns. female anatomy. major age differences but not in a power-hungry way(ur 19). invisible honorifics, I swear. manipulation. jyp(ent) is kinda the villain here(ilyjypplsdontsueme). ace!trainee reader. inexperienced reader. forced proximity and friendship. the members r kinda mean at first. Sorry, not sorry. ooc stray kids bc no one knows them like they know themselves. overworking. growing friendships. polyamorous(sharingiscaring). quick mutual pining(but they don't realize it). eventual smut.

Prologue. — 🧾

Chapt. ⓵ ❝_____❞

chpt. ⓶ , chpt. ⓷ , chpt. ⓸, chpt. ⓹, etc.

To be continued.. 🧷

I accidently posted this too early (crying). Lmk what you guys think ! — calli.

[taglist is open]

© seventhcallisto 11/22/2023

[bookmaker-untaken]

everything's going to hel in a handbasket

Hajime Umemiya x Reader // Mythology AU

Summary: The God of Light takes an all-expenses-paid trip down to the Underworld, where he meets you.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, OOC!Umemiya, Probably (Look, I Tried)

Word Count: 4,461

vii.

Hajime was going to die. 

The dreams of death - his death - visited him every night and loomed dark shadows over his waking days. He wished to sleep no longer, to no longer see over and over as they pushed a funeral vessel, his funeral vessel, out onto the still gray waters of the foggy dawn. 

And, in what he knew was a time after he was gone, he saw the earth bare and blanketed in a powdery white and knew it was the same for miles.

The dreams told him that his inevitable death would be the beginning of a sequence of events that would bring about the end of everything he ever loved.

And Hajime could do nothing about it. 

So he pushed aside his inner helplessness with a brilliant smile that showed like the sun and accepted his fate with considerable grace. 

The other gods and spirits, however, did not. 

Makochi, the all-father, had gathered all of them into the Great Hall.

The Hall was often ringing with laughter and song, but now it is almost ghostly silent. They chatted amongst themselves in low voices, struggling to scrape together any sort of solution. 

But what could they do?

Even as gods, they where as powerless to Fate as the ocean to the tide or the wheat to the wind. 

But if they did nothing ... their light would vanish, and none of them could bear the thought of it. 

Makochi caught their attention with his booming voice. "I shall go to the Underrealm, Shishitoren, and see for myself if it is true. Only then will we be certain." 

"Come now," said Hajime. "Let's have a feast up here, instead! I've been growing tomatoes and they’re just ripe enough! Let's kill a fatted calf and eat together!" 

His plea fell on deaf ears.

vi.

The All - Father climbed upon the dark leather saddle of a noble horse the color of night, snapping the reigns and taking off into the dark. A clap of lightning stuck as each hoof pounded the earth, the rumbling of thunder between paces. The rider of the North Wind, Nirei, passed overhead, wrapping around them and vanishing them from sight. 

Hajime bit his lip and sighed. 

The hooves of the great beast met the dirt before the tall, ornamental stone gates of the Realm of the Dead. Before the gate, the three-headed dog slobbers.

Makochi tugged at the reins and the horse trotted in place, shaking it's flowing mane with a whiny that whistled in an invisible wind. 

"I have come to speak with the Queen."

The guard dog looked down at him for a very long time, it's maw dripping. When the heavy doors began to creak open, the three-headed beast did not move to stop him.

The ease of his entrance was already a bad sign. 

The throne room was made completely of perfectly polished marble, beautiful and cold like the Queen who sat upon the throne. 

Makochi kneeled before you. 

Although you lounged, draped over your throne, leaning your chin on your right-flesh hand, your presence held a great weight. He could not see under the layered, dark veil that was held in place by a twisted crown of tangled thorns you'd worn as always - as if permanently in mourning. 

The only other inhabitant of the throne room was a knight who stood near the foot of your stairs, on the orders of your brother - Jo. 

"My son ... will soon die. On my journey here, I have accepted that truth." He says. "I only ask that you watch over him."

You could feel his pain, the great and heavy grief of a father. For anybody else, to ask the Queen of the Dead to watch over their son would be ... unfit, to say the least. (You would argue that it still was.) 

But this was the All-Father.

"I will do my best." Your voice is low and raspy, yet somehow comforting. 

A promise from death is always sure. 

v.

Bofurin did not care what the Queen of the Dead had said. Gods could change the stars.

After all, who had put them there? 

Hajime tries to dissuade her. While it may be true that they had numbered the stars, fate had made it so they felt compelled to put them there. 

Makochi put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. His wife was hurting, grieving for a death that had not yet passed. The earlier she started, the earlier she would come to accept it - as he had. 

With a torch in hand, guided by the Four Winds - Sakura, Sugishita, Nerei, and Suo - Bofurin walked the earth. 

She bowed before every creature and spirit, asking that they take a vow to never harm her beloved son. 

The few who did not already love Hajime were moved by the All-Mother's conviction and humbleness.

When she returned with a wide smile, the gods and spirits rejoiced. They would not have to lose their silver-haired god. Next to his Father, Hajime smiles.

It does not meet his tired eyes. 

iv.

They had discovered Hajime's invulnerability by accident. 

He had been tending to his garden, so engrossed that he didn't see the discus flying toward him. 

One of the boys called out to him too late.

But, instead of it slamming into his nose and drawing golden blood, it simply bounced off of him as if it were a mirror reflecting light. They all stood there, looking at each other in awe, afraid to move. The person who had caught the discus thew it directly at Hajime. 

It flew back.

Again, they exchanged looks. 

One of them held up a small knife. Hajime raised his brows, but didn't move. 

He knew it wasn't the day.

The boy aimed slightly above his shoulder and threw. The knife flew upwards, hitting the awning and clattering to the ground. 

With this, it became customary to use Hajime for sparring or target practice. He was already an expert at avoiding things - and if you accidentally managed to hit him, it would harmlessly deflect off. 

iii.

Bofurin sighed deeply, dragging her hands over her face. 

"Mother? What's eating you?"

She sat up to a smiling Hajime. "I ... I have made a mistake, my dear." 

He raised a brow, tucking her under his arm. "Do you want to tell me?"

She inhaled deeply, then sighed. "In my haste, I forgot to ask mistletoe to take the oath. It was so small, I - I must have overlooked it."

He placed a solid, comforting hand on her shoulder. "It's alright, Mother. Mistletoe is small and harmless!"

She sniffs, then nods. 

"All better?"

He rewards her with a grin. He gives her one final squeeze before walking back into the hallway.

With each step, the disguise of Choji - the god of mischief - slipped away. 

ii.

Nobody had seen the person who threw that spear. 

The spear that had launched itself into Hajime's chest.  

His eyes widened. He coughed, a line of blood trickling down his chin.

He smiled then, relieved that the wait was over. 

He fell to his knees. 

i. 

The yellow candles illuminated their grave faces as they traveled down the jutting cliffs in a single line to the gray waves. 

Although it was early, the seagulls cried.

One by one, they took a handful of dry sand and poured it into the boat. 

First the others, then his brothers, then Bofurin, with shaking hands.

Makochi emptied his palm of sand, bending down to whisper something into the dead boy's ear.

They pushed him out onto the lapping waves, surrounded by bobbing candles.

The light vanished with him. 

nulla

You were about to rise from your throne when a ball of light zoomed into the room, blinding you. You threw your arm over your eyes in an instinct, but curiosity convinced you to peer through the bones. 

The light began to expand and expand before peeling back, blooming like a flower to reveal the hovering Hajime. When his feet touched the ground, the bright lite fizzled out into gold sparkles.

He blinked, as if half asleep, looking around. 

His eyes fell upon you. 

He grinned brightly, "Hello! Oh, wait - I do apologize for, well, flying into your thrown room, honorable Queen of Peace." 

Although sometimes a name for death, it is uncommon. You raise a brow in slight surprise. 

You shift, wishing to disappear just as quickly as he had come. The weight of his focus makes you uneasy. 

But you have a promise to keep. "Rise."

Hajime did, and looked you right in your eyes. Your breath catches in your throat. It was if the pale stars had been dusted over the bridge of his nose and under his shining his eyes. There was no moon that night, yet the throne room was illuminated. His stare was attentive, yet gentle. 

He was not afraid of you.

"I have made a promise to your father to watch over you."

"Really? You don't have to, though!"

"A promise from death is sure." You say. "And there is no need to call me by my title. My name will suffice, Child of Light."

A grin broke out on his lips. "Then you've got to call me Hajime!" 

You hesitated, swallowing in an attempt to somehow stop the heat creeping up your cheek. Something about the idea of saying his name felt strange, an invitation of something, and you wanted no part of it. 

But to refuse such an offer would be more than rude. "H-hajime." 

Hajime's smile widened, brightening the room tenfold.

You needed him to stop doing that. 

i.

After a long silence, you take a sip from your goblet. "Is there ... anything that would make your time here ... more comfortable?"

Hajime's eyes swept around the room as he cut into his meat. He chewed as he thought. "Maybe some light in the halls? It's a bit hard to see where your going at night," 

You pull your lips into a thin line, looking down at your plate. You hadn't considered that. You knew these halls like the dark of your eyelid, like you knew the back of your flesh hand. You and the other servants had taken to tracing their hands along the marble veins of the hall to guide yourselves. 

He simply hadn't been here long enough. 

You nod to one of the servants. "See that his request is done." 

The young skeleton bowed her head to excuse herself.

"Anything else?"

Hajime thought again, a cute little pout forming on his lips. "Might I have a bit of earth, perhaps?"

You blink, eyebrow furrowing. "I ... can't promise that anything will grow, but if that is what you wish for, you shall have it."

"Great!" His eyes glittered more brilliantly than the table's candles. "Thank you!"

ii.

"A thousand pardons, your majesty. Supper is almost ready."

The servant hurried out of the room and back into the kitchen, leaving you alone again. You looked at the empty chair across the table. Despite an extensive length of table to sit at, Hajime had picked the chair only a few feet away from you. 

"Food's better when you eat together!" 

Where ... was he? When you came to the table in the mornings, he was there to greet you with that dazzling grin. When you came to the table in the evenings, he was there to excitedly talk your ear off about his garden progress.

You had gotten used to it. Expected it. And this small change had sabotaged any sense of routine you'd built.

Noticing your discomfort despite your steely disposition, one of your servants asked, "Would you like me to search for the Child of - Hajime?"  

Hearing his name from a servant only surprised you for a second. Of course he wouldn't  have let them call him by those traditional, self-important titles either. 

You open your mouth with one answer, then close it, rising out of your chair. "You have enough work to do. I will look for himself."

The servant nods, stepping out of your path. You fold your arms into your sleeves as you walked. If I were him, you wondered, where would I be?

You turned into one of the open air-halls that cut though a garden courtyard. Spotting something silver out of the corner of your eye, you stopped, taking a few steps backwards.

Hajime crouched over a small patch of earth he had cleared, making neat rows in preparation for seeds. He buried his hands into the moist dirt, the knuckles of his finger peeking out. His face was calmly focused, so still and serene.

You felt horrible for watching him this way, as if you were intruding.

Picking up the ends of your dress, you step widely on the stones so as to not dirty your shoes. 

"Hajime?" You clear your throat. "Hajime."

He turns around quickly, looking up at you. Your eyes dart away.

"You were late for dinner." Your mouth suddenly felt dry. "And I came to get you." 

"Oh!" Hajime said, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. Even with being on the stone, he stood taller than you. "I must have lost track of time. Always happens when I start to garden!" 

You shake your head. "I just didn't want your food to get cold."

"Thank you! If you hadn't come to fetch me, I think I would have stayed here until nighttime!"

"Until a short while ago our nighttime was your daytime," You looked at the dirt between the stones. "Adjusting takes time." 

Hajime starts to walk to the dining hall, glancing back to see if you where following him on the rocks. "I always stayed up late, anyway."

So he liked to stay up late, and garden. You often stayed up late as well, dedicating time to your duties, most of which required reading long documents. 

"I realize I never asked. What do you like to do?"

Panic rose in you slightly. What did you like to do? You hadn't ever sat down to think about it. The answer left before you could even register what it was. "Mealtime." 

Hajime laughed. A bright, hearty sound, like church bells and sunbeams and his ever present grin. "Well," He said. "I suppose you have a god's own luck."

iii.

"Would you like to help me out?"

You snap your head down to him with wide eyes.

"I couldn't possibly - " Wouldn't being touched by your skeleton hand kill the seeds?

As if he knew exactly what you were thinking, Hajime shook his head. "No, you won't hurt them." 

You swallow. "I'd prefer to just ... watch you."

"Aww," He drawled, heavy with disappointment. "Alright. I won't make you do anything that you don't want to do."

"Perhaps ... another time?"

He gives you a little smile. "Perhaps." 

iv.

The sprouts glowed golden as the magic traced though them, up their stems and into the leaves.  

It was the closest thing to the Middle Realm's sunlight they would ever receive - Hajime's magic traveling, pulsing, though their roots like the blood in one's veins. 

"They're coming along nicely," He says, taking a leaf between his fingers and expecting it. You look at them along with him, though you have no idea what indicated plants were 'coming along nicely' or not.

"I'm glad," You say, not sure what else may have fit better.

He smiles at the little leaf. 

v.

Your head bobbed, dried petals sprinkled onto your hands.

"Wha - "

Still half asleep, you looked around.

In the polished wall you saw yourself adorned with a beautiful crown of bright flowers that had half dried. Tentatively, you pressed a skeleton hand to the crown. The rot claimed another petal.

You look down the steps where Jo has a crown hanging from his sword. The two of you exchanged glances. 

Honestly, you were more shocked than angry. You looked again to the gleaming stone of the wall. Half of the flowers had shriveled and died. 

Honestly, you were more shocked than angry. You looked again to the gleaming stone of the wall. Half of the flowers had shriveled and died. 

All of the servants had flower crowns. The cooks, the maids, the gardeners. Even the Hellhound that garden the gate, each of the heads dwarfed a tiny wreath.  

You finally find Hajime, leaning out of a window overlooking the town, watching the people. The Realm of the Dead had musicians and artists who sang joyous songs and painted vibrant, lively murals. 

To Hajime, it wasn't nearly as cold or fearsome as the stories had made it to be. 

You cleared your throat before stepping forward, as not to startle him out of the window. "Thank you ... for the flower crown." You straightened it unconsciously, dried petals raining down. 

His own sat fully vibrant, almost magically energized, on his head. "I'm glad you like it! Some of the children saw me making one and then we had so many I had to start giving them away,"

You nod and your crown slips, falling to your feet.

Before you can react, Hajime had already scooped it up into his hands. The rotted flowers began to unwrinkled when he touched it, petals regaining their color.

"Thank you - " You'd reached to take it from his hands, but he had already placed it on your head.

The flowers recoiled, half of them shriveling up and dying instantly. "Thank you."

His eyes softened. "You're welcome." 

vi.

You listened to the various complaints of your subjects. As crimes were seldom, disagreements came more often - and your intelligent, quick solutions often allowed both parties to leave feeling as if they had gotten the better of the other.

After the last subject left, you slumped into your chair with a tired sigh. 

The door of the thrown room creaked open and in rushed Bofurin. 

You look at Jo, who looks back, equally confused. He doesn't dare draw his sword on the All-Mother.

"Oh, Queen of the Dead, Queen of Peace, you must return my son to the land of the living!" She cried.

You look at her, eye full of pity.

"You must! Since he has left, there have been relentless disasters without relief. Ask the Winds! They shall tell you!"

You where quiet for a long time. You knew that she wasn't lying, but had no solution for her plight. "I need time to think, All-Mother. As of now, I can see no way to allow him to leave."

Bofurin lowered her head, defeated. 

"If I can think of something, I shall send for the Southern wind immediately."

"Thank you," She bowed once more, unshed tears in her eyes. "May I ... see him?" 

You raise your hand to beckon for a servant. "Take her to the gardens." 

vii.

The Harvest season rolled around and you could still think of no solution for the problem. 

A part of you was beginning to think you were doing this on purpose - but you knew that was not ture. You would not allow selfishness to get in the way of what was right. 

The Middle Realm needed Hajime.

The Realm Above needed Hajime even more. 

Hajime was not yours to keep.

The Harvest festival was a joyful celebration. Dancers in traditional clothing leaping though the streets, followed by a band with shining horns and thunderous drums, tailed by a giant straw Hellhound, dragons, and spirits. 

At the end of the parade you sat upon a litter carried by four skeleton subjects. You waved until your arm hurt, finally relieved when they sat you down. The feast held at the castle was an expansive spread created from the crop surplus, and each family had brought their own dish to share, as it was required to attend. 

After they had all eaten their fill, there was dancing. 

You sat on your throne and watched the joyful steps. Your eyes fell on Hajime as did everyone else's. 

He was dazzling, pulled your eyes like a lodestone. 

Despite yourself, a small, secretive smile crept onto the skin-half of your face. 

It dropped when you saw him taking long strides toward you. 

Hajime opened a hand to you and your stomach erupted into butterflies. 

"Your majesty," He asked, grinning. "May I have this dance?" 

You looked over his head. Your subjects where muttering amongst themselves, peering over their hands. He had been standing there for too long. 

"Surely you must - "

"Nope!" Hajime said. "I'd like to dance with you, your majesty!" 

You gripped the sides of your throne, steeling yourself. You used them to push yourself up, laying your flesh hand against his.

It was as warm as you had subconsciously expected it to be.

Your skeleton hand was smooth and cool to the touch like ivory.

You let Hajime lead you to the dance floor and sweep you into a dance that started slowly, then begun to build as more people joined and the band begun to crechendo. 

The ghosts floated around you in streams of light, their ghastly dresses catching in the hovering candlelight as they twirled. 

You noticed none of this, nor how fast you where moving, kept fully entranced by Hajime's eyes. They were so much brighter up close - so intensely zealous, so deep you were afraid you would step into the clear water and drown.

His excitement jumped and sparked across his face like lighting.

The magic flourished and finished, releasing you from the spell. 

Breathing slightly heavily, you bowed in thanks, slipping your hand out of Hajime's. 

The sudden coldness was startling.

viii.

"Good day, sis!" You jerked.

What was it with people barging into your throne room lately?

Choji grinned at you, his wry smile gleaming with mischief. 

You massaged your temples. Your brother's spirited mood did nothing to sooth your anxieties. 

In fact, they often led to things becoming worse.

"Hello, brother." 

"What's wrong?"

"I ... " You bite your lip. "Have a difficult discussion to make."

"Yeah? Like what?" 

You turned your head. Your bother was smart. However, he loved to play tricks on even his closest comrades and family which meant you had to deal with him carefully. 

But … he was smart. So, maybe... "Hajime needs to return to the Middle Realm. It is in turmoil wihtout him."

"Really?" Choji shrugged. "Seems fine to me." 

You rolled your eyes. Trickery often led to chaos and it was not a surprise that he adored it. 

"It is disastrous, brother. I must send him back."You pause, eyes moving to your brother. His smile, sharper than normal, doesn't quite meet his eyes. "You didn't have anything to do with this, did you?"

"Nope!" 

"Choji." You say sternly. 

"And if I did? You can't prove it!" 

He's right. You can't prove he had anything to do with it. But something about the way he said those words...

You pinch the bridge of our nose. 

"Hey, sis? You're not beginning to fall for him, are you?"

You jerk. 

"Ah ha! So why are you so hellbent on sending him back?"

"Because it is what is right!"

"Wrong! He's dead now, so he belongs here!"

You glare at your brother. He has a point. 

"I need to think. Go bother Jo," 

Your brother smirks, but does as you order.

ix.

"Hajime," You begin.

"Yes?" He says, turning away from the seeds he'd just planed.

You begin to play with your fingers. "I have something to tell you, something important." 

He was looking at you with such bright intensity it forced you to look away. "You ... weren't supposed to die then, I don't think." 

"What makes you say that?" 

"I - " You say. "I can't tell you. But something's not right, and I intend to make it so."

A hand rests on the top of your head and you freeze. 

"That sounds super stressful! Try not to work yourself too hard!" 

You nod wordlessly.

ix.

The first solution that comes to you is a mirror of Bofurin's.

You request that she repeat her earlier pilgrimage and ask those to grieve for him. And if all things grieve for him, you may send him back. 

With a torch in hand, Bofurin once again walked the earth. 

This time she is more forceful, a mother's grief seeping from her eyes. 

In the end, one person does not grieve. 

You wonder ... if it is your brother, but you cannot tell. 

Bofurin is furious, in despair. She storms into her temple and shuts the door.

No amount of gifts nor offerings of any kind will sway her. 

They are not her son.  

The earth grows cold.

It grows hopeless.

x.

Soon your realm is overflowing with new residents. The infostrucutre cannot keep up.

You spend many sleepless nights bent over you desk.

One day, Hajime comes to see you. "The new plants have bore fruit. Please come outside, feel the fresh air."

You want to argue, but you do not.

The golden tree's trunk spirals upward, fat pomegranates drooping.

"I didn't know you could grow fruit,"

"I had been experimenting," He says proudly. "But you've been very busy, so."

He takes one from the branch and holds it out to you. She takes it, careful to hold it with her flesh hand. 

"Oh, let me," He takes it back, twisting it open. 

The seeds are blood red. You stare at him before something clicks, like a key sliding into a lock. 

"Hajime!" You say. "This fruit was grown with your magic in the land on of the dead! Life belongs on the surface! If you eat these seeds, you will be able to visit them!" 

He looks taken a back at first. "You would allow that?"

"Hajime! People are starving!"

"N-no, I mean... would you miss me?"

You blink at him, consider his words. "I ... yes of course." 

"Great!" He says, and before you know it you're in the air. "I'll miss you too!"

You hold onto his shoulders for purchase. 

He lowers you, slightly. "Say... how about a goodbye kiss?"

"You're joking.”

"I'm not," He says, face reflecting his seriousness. 

"Well, then." You take your veil and put it over his head. 

"Wow," He says. "You're beautiful." 

You can't help the quirk of your lip as you lean down. "Of course you would say that." 

Under the shade of the pomegranate tree, you meet lips. 

xi.

Hajime takes one hesitant step out of the realm of the dead, then another. 

Snow crushes underfoot. 

"My son!" Bofurin says, each step she runs to him making flowers grown under foot. "Your home!"

"For now," He says, holding the pomegranate in his hands. "Once these seeds are gone, I must go back."

Yet Bofrin doesn't care. 

In her happiness the flowers begin to grow once more. 

[deadlyashesart]

Alastor's dissapearance (Part 4)

Whoa, writer's block is finally gone?! No way!! Anyway, I'm sorry it's such a short chapter after such a long wait. This isn't the last chapter! I have a few more ideas I'd like to write that follow this timeline. It may be a little OOC, but I find it a little difficult to write vulnerable Alastor... Hope you enjoy anyhow, and stick around for more!! Thank you all for the support! <3

Part 3

-----

She didn’t dare cry, because how could she? She wouldn’t let her emotions over a guy she hadn’t seen in seven years affect her ability to work or protect her subjects. She wouldn’t allow herself to feel, at the very least until she figured out a way to minimize the impact of the exorcism that was coming in only a few months. She was a very busy woman, after all.

A week passed since, but It didn’t take long for it to reach Rosie’s ears that he had stepped foot back into Cannibal Town.

Alastor walked casually, a hand rested behind his back while the other held his cane. He could feel the stares of judgment from the cannibals burning into his skull. Usually, he wouldn’t give less of a damn, but the guilt that had been rotting him from the inside out was growing with each cold glance.

Eventually, he reached Rosie’s Emporium. It was fairly early in the morning, and the building was still closed. He knocked thrice, hoping a certain white-haired cannibal overlord would open the door.

His silent prayers to himself had been answered and his smile became a little more genuine as Rosie came to the door. She didn’t look thrilled to see him. She held back an annoyed groan and instead opted for a tired sigh. “What are you doing here, Alastor?”

“I believe I owe you an apology,” he answered, his voice annoyed her.

Rosie had to admit that Alastor looked different. More vulnerable, in a weird way, despite still having his usual smile plastered on his face. “Please leave. I don’t have time for this. Besides, don’t you have that little hotel to tend to?” Rosie attempted to close the door, but Alastor wedged his cane between the gap and made it impossible to.

“I fear our long-awaited reunion didn’t go to either of our expectations. I do not want our friendship to falter over a silly miscommunication, so please allow us to try again.”

“You disappeared for seven years and couldn’t even send me a letter regarding your return. That isn’t just a silly miscommunication, you’re just being an inconsiderate asshole.” Rosie’s tone wasn’t angry or sad anymore. Instead, it was stern, numb of any other emotion. This was her way of protecting herself.

Alastor’s ears flattened against his head. He didn’t want to act desperate. He had an image to maintain after all, and he was still standing in public. But he needed Rosie to hear him out or he’d never forgive himself. “I brought you something… As a show of good nature. I’m not here to start a fight or hurt you like I did before.”

Appearing in his hand from a cloud of dark smoke was a small bouquet, roses to be exact. He wasn’t a very creative gift-giver.

Rosie stared at him for a moment, taking the bouquet. She gave a deep sigh and opened the door fully. “Very well.”

“Thank you.” Alastor quickly took the moment to enter the emporium before Rosie changed her mind.

-----

They entered the staff room and sat down on the couch beside each other. Alastor’s eye twitched ever so slightly as he saw Rosie’s new radio sitting on the coffee table. To him, it was an abomination. How dare someone add a TV screen to a radio? But he couldn’t bring it up now, or he’d lose his chance to mend things with Rosie.

“Say what you have to say now, Alastor,” Rosie began, picking up a cup of coffee she had left so she could answer the door.

Alastor paused. He had a lot he wanted to say. He wanted to give her an explanation on why he left, but even the thought made the invisible chains on his neck squeeze tighter.

“I’m… Sorry, Rosie. I truly am,” he finally managed to say. “I allowed my pride” —that really stung to say out loud— “get to my head and distract me from what actually mattered.”

Rosie listened intently, taking a sip of her coffee. She almost choked on it when Alastor suddenly took one of her hands in both of his.

“You are one of the most important people in my hellish existance. One of my only true friends. Back at the meeting, I did feel remorse. Trust me, I did. But I was unaware how badly my disappearance had affected you, and I responded incorrectly.”

He let go of her hands and sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. He hated this feeling of vulnerability, he wasn’t used to it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t send you a letter… It’s inexcusable, but it truly did slip my mind. I promise you, from now on, I will keep in touch. Maybe we can go back to having our bi-weekly walks? What do you say?”

Rosie blinked, feeling conflicted. This was a side of him she’d never seen before. She was still upset, of course, an apology won’t fix the years of hurt he caused, but it was a start.

A small smile appeared on her face and she opened her arms, inviting him for a hug. He looked at her, his permanent smile finally reaching his eyes with genuine joy. He hugged her, and she hugged tighter.

“So… Is this forgiveness, my dear?”

“It’s definitely a start…”

“Thank you.”

They broke the hug, and Alastor’s eyes drifted towards the radio on the table. “Now, if I may ask, why did you purchase such an abomination?”

“Alastor.”

"Apologies."

[indespectus]

Rules | About | Perma Starter Call | Perma Plotting Call |

[balioc]

Is this a concept-formulation that's already kicking around out there somewhere? It might well be. It feels like the sort of thing that someone would already have developed. But it's new to me, at least, so I'll muddle around with it as best as I can.

On one end of the spectrum, you've got the musical hook. A hook is maybe two seconds of music, if that. And when you hear it, if it's good, you get a concentrated spike of -- oh, yeah, that's the shit right there, this exact experience in this exact moment is fucking awesome. And then, as soon as it's come, it's gone. All you can do is wait for it to come back later in the track, or rewind a few seconds, or maybe just replay that tiny little scrap of music in your head.

The pleasure of a good hook is incredibly condensed. It doesn't even really extend into the rest of the song, let alone into the rest of your life. To experience it, you have to be listening to those exact few bars (if only in your mind). It has no penumbra, no shades-of-experience that color other aspects of your existence. On the other hand, well...when you're listening to those exact few bars, you know it, and it's great. If it's a good enough hook, you kinda just want to listen to it over and over again, like you're popping Pringles or something.

All the way on the other end of the spectrum, you've got something like a traditional-style TTRPG campaign.

Even when it's being run masterfully, a game like D&D has a very low proportion of that's the shit right there moments, and a very high proportion of tedious yak-shaving stuff. Every so often you get your critical success in a high-stakes moment, every so often you get your awesome monologue or your big-drama scene or whatever...but for every moment like that, there's a hundred moments or more of the other stuff. The commonplace D&D play experience is famous for its vast amounts of OOC joking-around, which is not how things look when people are deeply engaged with the art on a moment-by-moment basis. And, of course, not every campaign is run masterfully. Sometimes boredom, or eye-rolling, is what you get in almost every moment.

And yet people love their D&D campaigns, like really incredibly a lot, and are deeply affected by them, and not-uncommonly have their whole lives changed by them.

The correct model here, I think, is that the pleasure generated by that kind of TTRPG experience is super diffuse. It's almost all penumbra. The awesomeness doesn't inhere in any one moment, or even any one scene or any one story arc. It inheres in the broad strokes of the campaign, in the ongoing knowledge that YOU ARE YOUR COOL CHARACTER and you go on a million cool adventures, in the mythos and the running jokes that add up invisibly over time into magic. And it pervades the entirety of your existence. You can think about it when you're lying in your bed, you can chat about it with your friends over lunch, and the awesomeness is just as much there as it is when you're actually playing. Maybe more so.

**********

Once you start looking at art through this variable-diffusion-of-appreciation lens, you can see many different points on the spectrum.

It's obvious that a short story is more concentrated than a novel, which is more concentrated than a series; it's obvious that a movie is more concentrated than a TV show. But it's not just the choice of medium that pushes in one direction or the other. It's a million different choices concerning content and style. Lushly descriptive language, in prose fiction, serves to concentrate the reader's appreciation into the moment of reading -- it forces the expenditure of extra attention for the sake of creating a beautiful mental moment, which in the vast majority of cases will be gone and forgotten almost instantly. Abstracted and philosophical language does the exact opposite, pulling the reader out of the narrative for a little bit for the sake of giving him something to roll around in his head. Suspense, and surprising plot developments, are concentration techniques that can have their full effect only during the transition from unspoiled-to-spoiled (and they serve to emphasize and heighten the moments of that transition). Archetypical, iconic plots are diffusion techniques that trade predictability-in-the-now for satisfaction-in-contemplating-the-story-later.

Sitcoms strike me as being vehicles for diffuse appreciation, to a huge extent, even more than other TV shows of comparable length etc. Much of what makes them good is just the presence of the characters and their distinctive shticks in your mindscape, in a way that builds from episode to episode without any particular grounding in specifics. When I think about a sitcom that I like, I find myself concluding that I like the show overall more than I like any single given episode. Which is weird, right? You'd expect some sort of bell-curve thing where the best episodes, or even the best individual moments, rise up above the averaged-out mass of the whole. But no.

**********

Fannishness is, overall, a very diffuse form of appreciation. This is true in the very-obvious sense that you're enjoying the work during a time when you're not actually consuming the work, by dint of consuming/producing fanworks and talking with other fans etc. But it's also true in the somewhat-less-obvious sense that the enjoyment-of-the-thing usually ends up very unrooted in the specifics of the thing, the plot beats and characterization details and so forth. You have a big beloved vibe, with lots of bits and bobs attached, and you can take the bits and bobs you like best and rearrange them however you like best when you're engaging in fandom.

**********

I believe it is overall true that concentrated appreciation is much more legible than diffuse appreciation. More legible to artists and art theorists, more legible to marketers and consumers. When you talk about art being good or bad or successful or unsuccessful, it's very easy to think in terms of "what is it like to consume this moment-by-moment?", and much harder to think in terms of "how does each piece of the work pervade the whole of the work, and also the general thoughtscape of the consumer?" For this reason, concentration techniques are associated with prestige, and high-prestige analysis tends to focus on a work's ability to generate concentrated appreciation.

...I also believe that different people want to be appreciating art, in the ideal case, at different levels of diffusion. There are people for whom a good artistic experience means lots of crack-hit awesome moments, and others for whom a good artistic experience means getting to live in an infinite penumbra, and others who fall at every point in between.

**********

For reasons I may discuss later, I think this concept-suite is extremely valent to the construction of theater LARPs, and the tension between people who expect more-concentrated enjoyment and people who expect more-diffuse enjoyment is responsible for a lot of the Wars Over What's Good within that sphere.

[lexluvswriting]

✎ First Meeting.

☆ SFW drabbles ☆

-> Pairing: God of Stories!Loki Laufeyson x Gen-Z reader!

-> (CW): loki is god of stories in this!! gender neutral, non-specified identity reader, fluff, slight flirting? kinda. i love him sm (T-T)

-> (TW): none.

W/C: 1.4k

╰┈➤ Lex's note: AHH, here's the post, oh god. based off of THIS ASK !!! i'd like to preface by saying yes, this will be a bit ooc for him. This is MCU, Loki Series!Loki, who is the God of Stories! I'd like to hope that he still stays mischevious still, so I tried to keep a bit of both personalities!! Also added some backstory for context !!

Uni was hard. Your lectures were hitting that stage where content was 'less fun' and more soul-suckingly 'boring'. Your latest assignment had thrown a spanner in the works of your mental sanity, and you were a few more minor inconveniences away from committing some sort of crime.

Kidding. Kinda.

What you hadn't expected was to be blitzed into some sort of gap in space and time after your friend begged you to come assist them with some help on their Physics experiment. "Science is fun", they said. "Helping your friends is the kind thing to do", they said.

Not when their janky little machine blasts you into a pocket that seemed to avoid space and time completely.

The Avengers had solved everything. Thanos was dead, the snap was unsnapped, this shouldn't be happening anymore... right? You were terrified, clutching your bag like a safety blanket as you stood on some invisible force, watching the space around you seem to shift between an endless loop of different colours and morph- the glittery mass swirling like liquid stars- or like a bad trip.

"What the fuck..." You whisper, prepared to scream, cry, throw up or lie down and die. Probably all in some order.

"You, there. How did you find this place?"

A voice that seemed to come from all corners of wherever you were, and also nowhere at once, sounded out. You flinched, whipping around again to find a strange handsome man sitting on some strange tree-like throne, wielding greenish vines that seemed to appear around you, branching out everywhere and whatnot.

"Are you speaking to... me?" You point feebly at yourself, amazed you're still conscious at this point.

"No, I'm referring to the nothingness of space and time. Yes, I mean you, mortal. Who are you, and how did you enter this place?"

His green eyes bore into yours, and bile rose in your throat. His tone made you falter, like a deer in headlights as your brain conveniently decided to shut down and restart. He couldn't be real. Why was he here?

"Oh my God... you're-" Your revelation seemed to amuse him as his eyes crinkled knowingly, the corners of his lips twitching up.

"Yes, little one. Loki, formerly the God of Mischief and Prince of Asgard. Now, I appear before you as the God of Stories."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

꩜ Telling him about your world! :

After you both get over the fact that you both are coexisting somehow- Loki is still partially convinced you're part of something called the T.V.A or whatever- you end up sitting down on one of the roots of the tree, blinking up at him like he was some immaculate, divine figure. He so totally is. You figure the best thing to do is wait for your friend to undo what they did, so you end up telling him about your world. He's familiar with Thanos, and the timeline of his so called 'death'. He asks about his brother, and you watch him with a deep sympathy that feels almost useless. It's quiet for a long time, before you offer to show him a picture.

"Would wi-fi even work here?"

"Doesn't your device contain it already?"

You blink up at him, supressing a pained sigh.

"... Are you kidding, or... ?"

He, with a dry hum of amusement, nods for you to unlock your phone, and strangely enough it works. You want to ask how? but his look tells you that it would probably hurt your brain. So you relent, and show him pictures of his brother most recently from social media news pages.

"Everyone is kinda... gone now. I mean- ever since Ironman..." You trailed off, and he nodded, his gaze softening slightly as he beheld his brother. You felt almost awkward, wanting to give him a moment to process this before-

"He looks fat."

"Jesus-"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

♫ Telling Loki about music, and educating him on artists:

You take it upon yourself to show this man music, after you had shown him the internet of your world, catching him up to date with all the important news and such. You made it a very good point not to scroll too far down in case he noticed something titled 'HEADCANNONS, DRABBLES AND WET DREAMS I HAVE ABOUT THE SEXY, MISCHEVIOUS LOKI LAUFEYSON-', instead questioning him on his music and artist knowledge. Sylvie had introduced him to what you both recognised as 70's and 80's hits, and you sent a silent thanks to whoever 'Sylvie' was. But you decided to catch him up on some of your personal faves- Mitski- neither of you spoke for a bit after he accidentally pressed 'Class of 2013', Mac De Marco, Lana and most importantly:

"Laufey. She's Icelandic and Chinese- and it's pronounced LAY-VAY. Like, Laufey. I just thought it was funny, cause... Loki Laufeyson, and Lau-"

He's already ogling you like a three eyed, two head sprouting, bat-winged monstrosity, but as soon as he hears the name, he shakes his head with an irritated grunt,

"There is no relation, nor will there ever be a relation. I am the God of Stories. I hold multiversal timelines between my fingers- I am seated at the throne of destiny. And you're asking me about some mortal like I'm supposed to... care?"

"Um. Okay." You smacked your lips together, cocking your head to the side with a hand on your chest as you search internally to find the words for a response without losing your life to a multiversal deity.

"So... I don't like that tone, first of all. Second of all, I just want you to listen- Just listen to her-"

Don't you notice how

I get quiet when there's no one else around?

Me and you, an awkward silence.

Don't you dare look at me that way-

You fed him her melodic song, your eyebrows raised in disbelief that he would be so dismissive after you brought out the big guns, and he listened to it, feeling oddly stimulated from this entire encounter. He was handsome, of course. But more handsome when he was quiet, when you could see his brain shifting and while you could see the way his eyes flit around in microscopic shifts, processing the sounds as they progressed.

Soon it finished, and he watched you, glancing down at the small phone, before glancing at you again, trying to find a response that didn't make him seem like some desperate lonely hermit.

"She isn't bad, for a Laufey anyway."

"Dude-"

"God."

"God-"

...

"How would I obtain this to have? Just... playing idly."

The smile that split your face was almost creepy with how wide it was, and he had to squint, looking away from the radiance and delight you emit.

"She's got more if you wanna listen."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

✮ Showing Loki diverse ways to compliment each other! aka. sending him into cardiac arrest: (one suggestive line!)

People die, and habits die harder. But nothing could remove the pride and preening personality this God has. He wasn't an idiot. He had noticed some of the 'links' and images and strange looking messages regarding his name and face that were almost cleverly hidden on the page you showed him, and he relaxed knowing that people still worshipped him in other timelines. As they should. But nothing could prepare him for his first edit.

"What does that say- No, no don't show me, I just want to make sure you understand what that means."

Have you ever wanted to make a God go absolutely insane because of you? Well you'd be in luck. The wrinkle that creased his smooth forehead was not small by any means, neither is something else he carries, and he had to take a moment to process what he had just heard you say.

"It's a term of- it's a phrase of... endearment!"

"'We're going at it until Ragnarok happens?'" He echoed, voice almost hitching as he tried to maintain control of his facial expressions. How much time had passed? A few seconds? A few days? He was starting to wonder how much more of you he could take. We'll get into that again, later.

"'Till I remember the veins and twitch patterns?!'"

"Okay well, you didn't need to read that one-"

He scanned the comments again, the screen hurting his eyes- and his heart, but he did it anyway. Deep, deep down- in a small, lonely part that wished he wasn't stuck on a throne of Yggdrasil, he felt something of amusement. A peacock showing off his feathers.

A small, impish smiled curled on his lips as he sat back in his throne, exhaling slowly, thinking. Calculating. Watching the way your eyes greedily absorbed the sparse clips of him in New York and Germany.

"So... one billion people enjoy me saying 'kneel'?"

"Oh, don't start-"

"I'm simply thinking, mortal. Don't fret your pretty little head over it."

...

"You think it's pretty?"

╰┈➤ Lex's note 2: @jaguarthecat i finally published. i kept coming back to your ask, and i realised i might as well put something out there cause like, might randomly die tomorrow so why shy from it.

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Oda Sakunosuke (self-aware)

Self-Aware! Oda Sakunosuke x GN! Reader

Warning: OOC. Yandere. Slight stalking. Spoilers for Untold Origins, Day I picked up Dazai, Dazai Osamu and Dark Era. English is my second language.

Becoming self-aware

🍛 Oda Sakunosuke become self-aware the moment after he died.

🍛 At first, he felt empty. Katsumi, Shinji, Sakura, Yuu and Kousuke... Were their death just a plot point? A 'food' for 'tragedy lovers'?

🍛 Oda quickly managed to collect himself. Right now, he can't do anything. He needs to investigate. He needs to think everything through.

🍛 Stuck between Living World and Afterlife, Oda continue to stroll down Yokohama streets, as a ghost, unseen by everyone.

🍛 Oda was observing. He was looking after ADA, he saw their pain, he saw Dazai's fury.

🍛 Oda was also looking after Port Mafia. Oda saw, that Mori tried his best to keep Port Mafia members calm. To create a strategy that will resolve this bizarre situation. Oda felt the rage of other Port Mafia members.

🍛 Oda was looking after Ango. He saw panic of his former friend.

🍛 Oda saw everyone. Oda saw, how confused and lost everyone were. The world they knew didn't exist anymore.

🍛 If the world 'exist' can be said about fictional world and characters.

🍛 Oda saw other ghosts. Andre Gide, a person, dressed in a winter coat, Shibusawa Tatsuhiko and others. Oda was sure, that there was more ghost. They were almost invisible. But, he was sure, that they were here.

🍛 Other ghosts wasn't very talkative. Oda didn't try that hard in making a small talk.

🍛 And Oda was thinking. He remembered every book he has read. He thought about every time characters has died or suffer. It didn't make the author a bad person for writing these books. It didn't make readers bad people for liking these books.

🍛 Oda still feel sadness. Sadness for kids' death. Sadness for other characters.

🍛 But, despite everything, Oda can't bring himself to be angry.

🍛 It wasn't anyone's fault. Not theirs. Not readers'. Not author's.

🍛 And then, one day, he felt an entity's gaze on him.

_____________

It was staring.

It wasn't blinking.

Its presence felt suffocating.

Oda was on his guard. He wasn't sure, if this thing was human.

Maybe, it was a demon. Or a god, that made them self-aware.

One thing was clear.

Something real was looking at them.

Oda's ability never showed him any danger. But, he wished that the imposing entity will disappear.

Right now, it didn't do anything. But, for how long it will be that way? How long it will be passive?

And can they fight against it?

Oda wonders if he can do anything against it. Anything to protect others.

And then, time resets.

And he, once again, was a fourteen-year-old assassin, captured at S&K Corporation.

__________

When they start feeling your presence

🍛 The Entity is gone. No more heavy gaze on them.

🍛 At least, for now, Oda can rest. As much as his situation allows him.

🍛 He heard the noise from the other room. The Bodyguard has arrived.

🍛 This time, there were someone else with the bodyguard. Oda can feel two people entering the room he was held in. The second one wasn't dangerous. The second one was simply watching. And they were... Interested? In him?

🍛 The second one was like an open book. Oda could feel their emotions as clear as day.

🍛 Bodyguard and Second One left together. And Oda, once again, heard, how Detective proved Secretary's fault. And Oda, once again, killed the secretary.

🍛 Oda felt, that he needed to do it. But, this time, he didn't want to do it.

🍛 When Bodyguard ripped off the sack, that was covering Oda's face, Oda saw Bodyguard, dead Secretary, and a person, who, for some reason, became in a light blob and were floating above them.

🍛 Apparently, they had the strangest ability ever. At least, among abilities Oda knew about.

🍛 Oda didn't even stop his gaze on them. Just another person.

🍛 Oda, once again, was taken in by police.

🍛 Oda saw Bodyguard and Strange Ability User again, when Bodyguard tried to find information about 'V'.

🍛 Strange Ability User were, once again, were curious about him. And worried about Young Detective.

🍛 And they were floating above him and Bodyguard.

🍛 Okay, why they still were a Light Blob? For what reason? What exactly this ability was for? To be cute? To be able to float? To allow others feel their emotions?

🍛 Oda decide not to ask. It's none of his business.

🍛 The strange day was over. And then time 'resets again'. Oda 'woke up' standing on his front porch. And Dazai, bloodied and wounded, was laying on his front porch. And, for some reason, Strange Ability User were there too. Still as a Light Blob.

🍛 Light Blob lowered themselves and settled on Oda's head.

🍛 Oda had an urge to throw them off. But, right now, he needs to take care of Dazai's wounds.

🍛 And then Oda heard a whisper that came from Light Blob.

"so sorry..." "why..." "him..."

🍛 And sadness. Sadness. As pure as a mountain spring. Like they were... grieving.

🍛 Light Blob... Were they really a human? Or, were they The Entity in disguise?

🍛 Maybe, Dazai knew something about them? Well, there are some time, before he will wake up.

🍛 With Light Blob on his head, Oda carries Dazai into his house.

🍛 Light Blob talked from time to time.

"Oda" "funny" "dangerous, but" "still try to help"

🍛 Okay, when few years? yesterday? Oda called them cute, he was joking. But... They are sounding adorable.

🍛 When Dazai woke up, Oda saw, that his friend looked shocked, angry, sad and happy at the same time. Oda pointed at the Light Blob and asked.

"Dazai, do you know, who are this? This Light Blob sounds adorable."

______________

Their talk was long. Dazai told Oda about everything he knew about The Entity.

And about thinking, that The Entity was evil.

Oda, after getting some answers about The Entity/Light Blob, was silent. Once again, it all was connected to them been fictional characters. Oda looked at Light Blob. At The Reader.

Oda has been thinking about it before. When he was a ghost on empty streets of Yokohama. Oda knew what he should tell Dazai.

"I don't think so, Dazai. We may be fictional characters. But, reading a book about a fictional character with a sad past doesn't mean, that The Reader enjoys suffering. Or, you don't think, that there's nothing interesting in us, except our suffering."

___________

🍛 Oda learned to enjoy Light Blob's company. Oda talked with them from time to time.

"Hey, Blobby, want to go for a walk?"

"Maybe, I should add more spice? What do you think, Blobby?"

"Don't be afraid of Dazai. I knew, that soon he will stop distrust you. He will see, that you aren't evil."

🍛 Oda encouraged Dazai to spoke to the Entity, but Dazai refused to do it. At least until their poker game.

🍛 Then came a run in with "48".

🍛 When Dazai and Oda were trying to escape, the Light Blob were floating ahead. Lighting their way. Dazai compared them to a guiding light.

🍛 Little Light were worried, when Dazai was poisoned.

🍛 Little Light was amazed by his fighting skills. And not even once they were disappointed, that Oda didn't kill anyone.

🍛 And when Dazai and Oda came to bar "Lupin" for the first time, the Light Blob was floating above them.

🍛 Oda thought, that it would be nice, if three of them, Dazai, Light Blob and him, spend time together.

🍛 And time reset once again.

🍛 Dazai, Oda and Ango, once again, met in bar "Lupin".

__________

There was sorrow in Dazai's and Ango's eyes.

They felt, that there is nothing they can do to change the outcome.

Little Light were trembling. They were sad.

"Why [||||||||||||] no one deserves it!"

There was sorrow in Mori's eyes.

"I am sorry, Oda-kun. If this time it could be different, I would choose another path. They like you. And I don't want Voice to be upset. They are... precious to all of us."

Little Light were still sad.

"Oda [||||||||] don't deserve it"

Oda felt Light Blob sadness, when he was visiting Katsumi, Shinji, Sakura, Yuu and Kousuke.

"[||||||||||||] don't deserve it"

Oda felt Little Light's sympathy towards Gide.

"No one deserved it..."

Little Light were crying with Oda, when the van with orphans inside was blowed up.

Little Light were trying to stop Oda together with Dazai.

"Please [|||||||||||||] stay..."

Little Light were crying, when his battle ended. They were crying for everyone, who were hurt by this conflict.

"People live to save themselves. It's something they realize right before they die, huh...? He was... right..."

Once again, Oda died in Dazai's arms.

Oda again was a ghost. Just like before the time reset.

And he heard the voice.

"sorry" "poor kids, poor Oda, poor everyone" "if only I can"

"Oda. If only I could do it, I would make sure that everyone would stay alive. I am so sorry. I wish... You were alive... That they were alive... That your dream came true..."

Oda feels like he was embraced by someone warm and nice. Oda feels something wet on his shoulder.

[In reality, your tears drop on LN's pages.]

Oda's words were warm. He heard, how Dazai called you 'Guiding Light'. Fitting name.

"Guiding Light, don't be sorry. It's not your fault. You are a good person. I wish, we could talk more..."

__________

🍛 Oda, as a ghost, was, once again, observing others. He saw, how Armed Detective Agency slowly come to see you in a good light. How last members of the Mafia accept you as a normal person.

🍛 Oda and other ghosts saw, how new people joined forces to find a way out of the fictional world. A way to you.

But then, one day, the purple moon shined above Yokohama.

And one day, the purple moonlight embraced Sakunosuke Oda.

_______________

When you installed BSD Mayoi Inu Kaikitan

___________

They saw Purple Moon above them. You got an SSR card. BSD Cast were waiting. They were curious about whose card you got.

R,R,R,SR,R,SR,SR,SR,R...

And, finally, SSR...

New one...

But, no one of the characters, whose SSR cards you don't have, felt, that it was their cards.

Purple moonlight fille the room.

They heard your voice.

"Wow! Oda's card! Neat!"

Purple moonlight faded.

Oda Sakunosuke, man, who died four years ago, was standing there. Alive.

__________

🍛 Yosano ran a check-up on Oda. He was fine and well, just a little bit dizzy.

🍛 Dazai and Ango didn't leave Oda's side. They wanted to make sure that their friend is really here.

🍛 Oda was glad to be alive. This way, he can help others to find a way to your world.

🍛 But, for now, he will enjoy your company.

🍛 Oda didn't do much with his cards. He is more interested in where you 'throw' the marble.

🍛 If you have his card in a team, he will use his ability and 'throw' the marble for you. Because of that, you will always have 100% clear stage.

"Why Oda's cards are so pretty?"

"Okay, Oda, let's win this Boss Battle."

"It seems, that I can win Oda SR card in this event. Well, tome to clear some stages.

🍛 Oda (and then Shibusawa with Gide) was helping with adding new cards (new characters) in game. With his ability, he managed to help to add other 'ghost' characters in the game.

🍛 One time, Oda was approached by Natsume Soseki. He asked Oda if he wants to help him and Poe to write new Seasons to add in game. Natsume explained, that Seasons were written like Diary Entries. Oda promised to think about it. He feels, that observing you make him feel better. He wants to know as much as he can about you. About a real person. Maybe, his dream can become a reality.

🍛 He wants to try to write about your world. About real people. About real you.

🍛 Oda is waiting for the moment he will meet with you. He wants to discuss so many things with you. Finally, his conversations will stop to be one-sided.

___________

You got another note in the Gift Box.

Some Gold. And a note.

"Hello, [Y/N]. I hope, that you are alright. Hey, do you have any book recommendations? Will like to discuss literature with you while eating curry. Oda Sakunosuke"

You smile and open Oda's card in Character menu. You pat Chibi Oda's head.

"I might recommend something to you, Oda. Hope, you will like my recommendations. And, I like the idea of eating curry with you."

You didn't notice, that Oda's sprite nodded and smiled.

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

“you’re the only one that makes me Powerless tonight”

“and you can devastate my personal space i never liked it anyway.”

synopsis// alone and lonely were two very different things. gojo was never alone but he was tired of being lonely, at least that was until you showed up.

pairing// satoru gojo x gn!reader

word count// 1.4k

contents// angsty gojo?, gojo never turns off his infinity and never lets people touch him in any context!, ooc gojo probably, angst in general if u squint

notes// yep you guessed it! a waterparks song did in fact inspire this! todays inspiration is powerless!!! wooooooo!!!

Gojo Satoru was by no means alone. Whether he was with the higher-ups or other sorcerers or with his students, he was always with someone, around someone. Gojo Satoru was by no means alone, but he was by every means lonely. There was always a wall between him and everyone, metaphorically and quite literally, considering his infinity. only one person had ever been able to get past it, and that was when he was in jujutsu high himself, only one person until you. 

Yaga had called Gojo in one day for what he thought was a meeting, but upon arriving, he was met with you, standing there in all your glory, hands clasped together as you smiled sweetly at Gojo, who could now actively feel his pulse quickening the longer he stared at you. 

“Gojo, meet L/N; they're a new teacher here. In fact, they'll be working with you and your first years," Yaga catches Gojo up as he begins walking toward you two.

“Hi! Nice to meet you,” you say happily as you offer your hand out to him for a handshake. 

Gojo catches himself about to shake your hand but stops himself before he can do so. That’s not Gojo; Gojo doesn't shake hands, and Gojo doesn’t turn off his infinity, so why was he about to? just for you? He clears his throat and smiles smugly. “Sorry, pretty. I don't shake hands.”

Your mouth forms a slight “o” shape as you retract your hand and go back to clasping it together with your other. “Sorry!” you apologize sincerely. 

Yaga quirks up an eyebrow at Gojo in question, having witnessed the whole interaction, and the only thing Gojo can do is flash his signature smile. 

Yaga sighs. “Right well, that’s all. They start tomorrow with you, Gojo. Get them informed on your class, yeah?” He says this before walking out of the room. 

“Nice to meet you!” You call out to Yaga, who is long gone at this point. “So Gojo, what’s our class like?”

Gojo catches himself smiling like an idiot at your use of “our.” He likes the sound of that; he likes it a lot, a little too much, actually.

“Just call me Satoru.”

Everything after that was history. Gojo and you had quickly taken to each other like no other, catching everyone by surprise. Mostly because Gojo hadn't let himself take to anyone since he was in Jujutsu High, so why should you be any different? Nobody knew why, and he certainly didn't know why either, which is what scared him; it’s what’s made him keep you at arm's length; it’s what’s made him keep the quite literal invisible wall between you two.

But none of that stopped you; you were still just as enticed by Gojo as was everybody else, but you were different. You didn't fall for him because he was Gojo, the strongest sorcerer; you fell for him because he was just Satoru to you; you saw him when he was see-through, and maybe that's exactly why he keeps you at arms length. Because being truly known scares Gojo, allowing someone to truly know him again is what keeps Gojo up at night, even if deep down that's all he really wants. 

It’s been about a year at this point of you and Gojo being friends that aren't just friends but also aren't together but also aren't not together. In simpler terms, it's been about a year at this point of you and Gojo being together without actually being together. This isn’t to say you haven't tried; you have, kind of. You’ve never wanted to push too hard, afraid that it would do more harm than good. You would try and plan dates with Gojo, telling him you’d make time for him and that you were waiting on his greenlight, but apparently his light was always red, occasionally yellow, but never green. never.

But now you’re sick of waiting for the right time. You're sick of not being pushy; you're sick of being whatever it is you are with Gojo; you’re either together or you're not. You need answers; you need to know if he needs you like you need him, which is how you found yourself at his front door at midnight. You find yourself hesitating to knock on his door but end up knocking anyway; you didn't come out all this way in the cold only to end up not knocking. After a few moments, you're still out in the cold, so you knock harder, only to end up knocking on Gojo, well—you would have had his infinity been off.

“Y/n?” he asks grogily. 

“Gojo,” you reply back flatly, nodding as a form of greeting.

Gojo’s face scrunches up in confusion and slight disgust at his last name coming from you as he moves out of the way to allow you in. 

“Did I do something?” he asks curiously as he watches you walk into his living room. 

“yes.. no! .. maybe? ugh, I don't know,” you respond vaguely as you stand in front of his couch and turn to look at him. 

Gojo now finds himself a few feet in front of you, every part of him aching to just hold you. “You don't know?” he asks quietly. 

you groan. “What are we, Gojo?”

Gojo winces at you using his last name again. “Can you stop calling me Gojo?”

You frown. “okay fine. What are we, Satoru?” You purposely draw out his first name as if to mock him. 

He matches your frown, his eyebrows scrunching together as he questions, “Where is this coming from?”

You scoff. “You can't even tell me!”

"Y/n no, I'm just confused," Gojo responds sheepishly. 

You sigh. “Satoru, I'm in love with you.”

Gojo goes wide-eyed; he had pretty much already known, but hearing you say it outright still takes him by surprise, and suddenly, with the way his pulse is quickening, he's taken back to the first time he met you. “Y/n-“

You don't give him a chance to speak, raising your finger at him as if telling him to shut up, and he does. “I am so in love with you, but I can’t keep doing whatever we’re doing, Satoru.”

“What are we doing?” he asks with a frown. 

“I don't know!” you exclaim. “That's the problem, Satoru! I need to know if you’re in because I have been in since the moment I met you, Satoru, so now it’s your turn. Do you love me, Satoru?”

Gojo bites the inside of his cheek, and his eyes are stinging; he might just actually cry. He inhales and exhales deeply. “Y/n, I love you so much that it scares me,” he whispers back because he thinks if he talks any louder, his voice will crack. 

Now it's your turn for your eyes to sting, along with your lips starting to tremble. Scratch that—every part of you is beginning to tremble as you watch him step closer to you. “Then prove it,” you reply meekly yet sternly. 

Gojo doesn’t say a word. The way he wants to prove it doesn't involve him speaking; it involves him wrapping you in his embrace, which is exactly what he does, and you go stiff at feeling him touch you for the first time. You blink a few times in disbelief before grabbing whatever part of him you can get your hands on—his back, shoulders, arms, neck, hair, face—everything and anything. You’re trying to memorize his body whole in case this is the first and only chance you’ll get to ever touch him.

He stifles a laugh at how your hands won't stay still on him, and he kisses your forehead, and the two of you stay like that for a few moments, his lips against your forehead, while you try to memorize Gojo whole. Eventually, you finally stop and wrap your arms around him just like his are around you; your heart is about to practically jump out of your chest with how hard it’s beating. 

Gojo is the first to break the silence. “So, I was thinking maybe we could get away? call it a date?” He mumbles against your forehead. 

“Is this real?” you ask breathlessly.

Gojo laughs as he pulls away slightly, arms still around you, in order to look at you face-to-face. “Of course this is real. Am I just that amazing that you can't believe I'm real?” he asks as a smirk tugs at his lips. 

Despite the grin on your face, you roll your eyes at him. "Oh, shut up! It's just... does this mean you're in?" You ask nervously. 

Gojo hums before he leans in and kisses you passionately, yet keeps it short and sweet by breaking the kiss just to mumble.

                                   “Yeah, i'm in.”

© LITTLEXBIMBO

[halfway-happyyy]

into gold III {rooster bradshaw}

synopsis: rooster bradshaw’s emotional baggage could fill a cargo container ten times over. he is the single father of a precocious and bubbly six-year-old, and despite his best efforts, has fallen head over heels for someone arguably more damaged than him- his daughter’s first grade teacher.

characters- bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw, frankie bradshaw, female ooc scout wallis (she/her pronouns)

word count- 3200+

or- the one where rooster can't cook, and lays everything out on the line for scout.

read part one and two

An aluminum wing catches a ray of flaming sunlight, rendering her momentarily blind. The moment passes and she catches sight of the plummeting aircraft expecting to see the words ‘LT Beau Wallis “Atlas��’ painted across the side, but what she sees instead is ‘LT Bradley Bradshaw “Rooster”’. A strangled scream tears at the tender flesh of her throat as she watches his FA/18 explode into the side of a mountain before he can safely eject from it. Another precious life snuffed out like a candle in the night. Another love lost forever. Her scream never materializes.

Scout Wallis jolts awake from her nightmare, her entire body covered in a slick sheen of perspiration. To steady her erratic breathing, she studies the movie posters that adorn the walls of Jake’s bedroom. Most of them are westerns; vintage, gun-toting shoot-em-ups that make her long for the simplicity of her grandfather’s cabin.

“Bad dream?”

Jake’s voice catches her off guard before she nods her head. He moves from his spot on the chair in the corner of the room to the bed, taking a seat beside her.

“Must have been out a little while,” She yawns. “Are you almost ready? What time did Rooster say to be over for dinner?”

Jake moves to brush a strand of hair away from her face. “Before we do anything, you and I have some unfinished business to attend to first, Wallis.” Scout suddenly feels the end of their time together looming close, like the ticking hands of an invisible clock. Silence settles a little too long between them before he finally sighs, “This isn’t going to work out between us, is it?”

And it breaks her heart a little bit because in every lifetime apart from this one, she can see herself with Jake Seresin.

She shakes her head, piteously. “I’m sorry, Jake.”

He lifts her hand from beneath his duvet and kisses the back of it gently. “No apologies, Wallis. Frankie’s crazy about you,” A sobering realization sets in behind those beautiful viridian eyes, a flash of something sorrowful passes through them and then it’s gone. Jake swallows hard and shrugs his shoulders. “Rooster is too.”

Scout watches him leave the room, wishing with a pang, that there were something she could do or say to make herself feel a different way, but if there was anything that losing Beau had taught her, it was the importance of letting go when the time came.

They meet on his front porch fifteen minutes later, both regarding each other with a thoughtful intensity. Jake’s the first to break the silence.

“I meant what I said the other night.”

Scout cocks her head in question. “What did you say?”

Jake sighs and squints into the waning daylight above. “That he’d take good care of you. He will take good care of you if you let him, Scout. And you deserve it.”

The inexplicable sting of looming tears pinches behind Scout’s eyes as she opens her arms for a hug which he reciprocates. They stand entwined for a couple of minutes, neither one of them wanting to part just yet.

Jake breaks away first and clears his throat. “Alright Wallis, get outta here.”

She steps down off the porch, walks the few steps toward her car, and then turns to face him. “I’ll see you around, Seresin.”

He grins. “Not if I see you first.”

~

Scout stands poised before Rooster’s front door. She considers setting the mason jar of shells down onto the frayed welcome mat and making a run for it, but no sooner has the thought crossed her mind that the door is opening, and Frankie is standing on the other side of it. She’s dressed head-to-toe like Jessie from Toy Story: cow print, a hat, boots, and all.

“Miss Wallis!” She grins and then excitedly follows that up with, “Papa they’re here!”

Scout hears a pot bang in the kitchen followed by a choice curse word and stifles the giggle that tickles the back of her throat.

“Well, let them in Frankie!”

She herds Scout into the living room and then peeks back out into the growing darkness of the late May evening.

“Where’s uncle Jake?”

Scout swallows hard; fumbles around for something appropriate to say when Rooster appears from out of the kitchen, his cheeks flushed.

“Hi.” He breathes out.

“Hi,” Scout's gaze drifts to the youngster. “You look spectacular Frankie. If I’d known, I’d have brought my Buzz Lightyear costume.”

Her eyes widen in delight. “You have a Buzz Lightyear costume?”

Scout nods.

Rooster rests a large hand atop Frankie’s head. “We’re going through a bit of a Toy Story phase at the moment.” He too, cranes around in search of Jake. “You by yourself?”

Scout nods slowly. “Yeah, Jake couldn’t make it.” Their eyes meet then, and somehow Rooster understands everything without a single word being uttered between them. “But I made sure to stop by to drop these off for you.” She hands Frankie the jar of shells and turns towards the door.

“You’re not staying?” Frankie asks.

Scout doesn’t miss the disappointment in the little girl’s tone. She turns back. “I don’t want to be a bother…”

Rooster shakes his head adamantly. “You could never be a bother. Besides, we’re having Frankie’s favorite.”

“Pancakes!” Frankie squeals and makes a beeline for the kitchen.

Scout sighs happily. "How on earth can I say no, then?"

“It wasn’t supposed to be pancakes,” Frankie licks a glob of maple syrup off her finger. It had been twenty minutes since they’d sat down, with Frankie being the first to break the silence. “But papa had an accident with the steak.”

Scout’s gaze travels to the charred piece of meat in a cast-iron pan at the back of the stove and giggles.

“Thanks Frank.” Rooster rolls his eyes and reaches over to pinch the apple of her cheek, playfully.

Scout swallows her bite and shrugs. “I tend to prefer breakfast for dinner over steak anyway.”

“Me too.” Frankie agrees.

While she’s in the washroom, Scout watches Rooster push the last of the bacon from his plate onto hers. “You full already?”

Rooster shakes his head no with a small smile. “But Frankie loves the stuff and that’s enough for me.”

Scout doesn’t allow herself much time to reflect on the things she looks for in a significant other, but watching Rooster sacrifice the last of his dinner to appease his girl, she can’t help but feel endeared to him more.

As soon as the eggs and bacon and pancakes have been devoured, Frankie turns to Rooster and asks if she can grab the ice cream.

“Why don’t we wait a little bit? Scout might be a bit full of dinner still.”

Frankie falters in confusion. “Your name is Scout?”

Rooster’s cheeks redden and he scrambles to explain himself, but Scout gives her head a soft shake.

“It’s simple Frankie. When you and I are at school together, you need to call me Miss Wallis because I am your teacher. But when we’re like this- or, if you see me at the beach,” She throws a wink Rooster’s way. “You can call me Scout. Does that make any sense?”

Doubt clouds her beautiful green eyes, but she nods her head regardless.

“And I would love you to grab the ice cream. My dessert tube is far from full.”

Rooster watches her head for the basement and then promptly apologizes.

Scout waves it off. “Not at all. It was bound to happen at some point. I’ve just found that it’s best to be as honest with them as you can- as is appropriate.”

Rooster watches her and she feels naked under his gaze but it’s a vulnerability that she doesn’t immediately shy away from. She reckons she could get used to it; likes how it feels akin to standing under a warm shower, or letting sunshine warm your frozen bones on a cold day.

“You do well with her.” He concedes after a while.

Scout allows herself thirty seconds to remember the seedling that had once grown in her belly and smiles. “She’s a wonder, Rooster. Truly.”

“Papa, can you help me please?”

“I’ll be right there sweetheart,” Rooster pushes himself back from the table with a happy sigh. “Frankie has helped prepare a very special dessert this evening. We’ll be right back.”

Scout takes this opportunity to fully drink in the beautiful space around her. The kitchen opens onto the living room which is all whitewash and navy-blue accents. A pair of sliding glass doors lead out onto a half wraparound porch, where a rope swing bench hangs from the second story awning. Open windows give way to the calming staccato of waves crashing against a shore nearby, and she decides then that her favorite part of the house (minus her two dinner companions) may just be its proximity to the ocean. It is entirely charming in its coziness. From her spot at the table, Scout can see that most of the wall space in the living room is hung with pictures Rooster collected during his time in the Navy, and of different stages of Frankie’s life. Her, as a fresh and endearingly wrinkly newborn, next to one that shows him and a toddler Frankie next to his beloved plane. Beside that picture is one of Frankie and Maverick at her kindergarten graduation. A warmth that had felt foreign to her for so long settles in next to her heart and refuses to budge.

“Are you ready Scout?” Frankie’s lilting voice, brimming with excitement, knocks her from her reverie and makes her smile.

“I’m ready, Frankie. Your dad said you worked extra hard to put this dessert together.”

Frankie, suddenly unusually shy, nods her head.

“Alright Frank, you grab the ice cream.” Rooster gestures to the rapidly melting tub behind him and carries a steaming dish of apple crumble to the kitchen table. He tops her plate with a heaping spoonful of the crumble and two healthy scoops of vanilla bean ice cream.

Scout takes a bite and lets her eyes fall shut, savoring the slightly tart taste of the warm apples on her tongue. “This is delicious, Frankie. You did a fantastic job.”

Frankie’s lips turn up into a toothy grin. “Thank you.”

They finish their dessert in silence, and when it’s over, Frankie tugs on the sleeve of Rooster’s t-shirt and leans up to whisper something in his ear.

Rooster frowns. “Why don’t you ask her yourself, Frank?”

Frankie turns to Scout, her expression bashful. “Scout, can I show you my seashell collection?”

Scout passes a napkin over her mouth and nods emphatically. “I would love that, Frankie. Lead the way.”

The rest of the house is just as charming as the main floor, and Frankie’s room is somehow exactly how Scout would have imagined it would be. A white, wrought-iron bed sits beneath a powder blue mosquito net, the top of it crowned with twinkling fairy lights. Behind the bed, a large whimsical rainbow takes up most of the far wall, and a sneaking suspicion tells her that Rooster had something to do with it. A lamp in the corner of her room emits a soft yellow glow, and an array of random wooden furniture takes up the rest of the quaint space. Frankie cradles her jar and points to a blue, paint-chipped shelf beside her bed.

“Mav made that shelf for me for my shells.”

Scout walks the short distance to the shelf in which she’s referring to and drops to her knees in awe. She’s sure Rooster had a hand in helping her organize everything, but even still, her collection is immaculate. There must be over a hundred shells on display- some ranging from the size of a quarter to some the size of a dessert plate.

“These are incredible, Frankie.”

The little girl carefully unscrews the lid on the jar and begins to add them to her collection, ranging in size and color.

“Thank you for helping me, Scout.”

Scout swallows back the sudden tide of emotion and smiles. “It was my pleasure, Frankie.”

“Do you have a favorite one?” she asks.

Scout sighs. They’re all so beautiful. After a while, she points to a small red starfish. “I think that one.”

Frankie grins. “That one’s my favorite too. It always reminds me of Patrick, from Spongebob.”

She’s not sure how long they spend huddled in front of the myriad of shells, but Scout reckons she could listen to Frankie talk about them for the rest of her days and never grow tired of it. A knock at her bedroom door pushes her from her daydream. She glances up to meet Rooster’s gaze, his head leans against the door frame.

“Hi.” Scout smiles.

“Hi you two.”

“Come look at the ones I added, Papa.” Frankie insists.

Rooster pushes himself from the frame and crosses the short distance to where they’re crouched down, planting his hands on her shoulders and leaning in to take stock of the priceless new additions. “You’ve outdone yourself this time, Frank.” He murmurs after a few moments. “But I regret to inform you that it’s time for bed.”

Scout doesn’t miss the exasperated groan that emanates from Frankie.

“Just a little longer, Papa?”

Rooster laughs. “It’s already past your bedtime, sweetheart.”  

Scout rises from her crouched position and places a hand atop Frankie’s head. “Goodnight my friend. Thank you for showing me your wondrous collection.” A thought crosses her mind. “When we do our last show-and-tell before year end, why don’t you bring some of your shells in? I’m sure the other kids would love to see some of them.”

Frankie’s eyes light up. “I would love to!”

Scout grins. “It’s a deal, then. Goodnight Frankie- and sweet dreams.”

She wanders back downstairs, not entirely sure if she should stay. She figures the least she can do is wait to say goodbye to Rooster. A picture on the mantle above the fireplace catches her attention. It depicts a very young Maverick, with his arm wrapped around someone who bears an uncanny resemblance to Rooster. Scout studies the photo; the smiles of the young men speak volumes of excitement and adventure, of youth, and the ability to believe that they would be safe in anything they set their hearts on. Rooster joins her then.

“Is this your father?” she asks, though she reckons she already knows the answer.

Rooster nods before clearing his throat. “Yeah, that’s him.”

Scout smiles. “He looks like you.”

Rooster shifts from foot to foot, as if crafting his next words with care. “I never really thought so, but my mother was adamant that he and I were cut from the same cloth.” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “Would you like to stay for a drink?”

Scout wants to say no. She wants to thank him for dinner, and for the companionship that he and Frankie had gifted her this evening, but she just can’t shake the feeling that she’s supposed to be here.

“Yeah, I would.”

“Is there anything you’d like? I’ve got wine, beer, whisky…”

Scout shrugs. “I’m easy. Surprise me.”

Rooster smiles and nods his head. “Alright. I’ll fix us something if you want to find a seat on the porch.”

She does as she’s told and settles onto the swing, reveling in the sound of the ocean nearby. Rooster joins her a little while later, offering her a tumbler of whisky which she gladly accepts. He takes a seat at the opposite end of the bench and raises his drink to her.

“I’m sorry to hear about you and Jake.”

She snorts around the rim of her glass, takes a sip, and shakes her head. “No, you’re not.”

Rooster’s expression is suddenly sheepish. “You’re right. I’m not.”

They’re silent for a moment, Scout already feeling the whisky warming in her belly, causing her cheeks to flame and a flush to start at the base of her throat.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Rooster gazes at her, his expression unreadable, and nods his head. “Anything.”

“Frankie’s mother, what’s the story there?”

A puff of air escapes his parted lips as if he’d been holding it all in. “Not much of a story at all, really. She, uh, left when Frankie was about a year old.”

Scout can barely fathom it.

“Her and I were young when we met. We figured that marriage and children were the next obvious steps, so we took them together and when life got real, she hit the road.” Rooster takes a deep sip and continues. “She tries to get a hold of Frankie every now and then. Always spews some bullshit about coming to visit her, but she never manages to materialize. Fortunately, Frankie and I do alright on our own.”

“You do better than alright, Rooster.” Scout murmurs.

“How about you?” He asks. “You ever been married?”

Scout hesitates before nodding her head. “Yeah, actually. I was married for five years before he passed away.”

It sometimes still feels surreal to her when she says it out loud. That someone could be so close to her for so long and mean so much to her, and then gone at the blink of an eye, keeps her up most nights.

Rooster’s face drops. “I’m so sorry, Scout.”

She swallows back the building emotion and offers a half-shrug. “It’s one of the costs of flying fighter planes for a living, isn’t it?”

Rooster’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Your husband flew planes?”

“There’s a reason I told you I didn’t date men in the military.” she simpers.

They’re silent for a while, the only noise between them the calming sound of waves against sand.

“You’re lucky you live so close to the ocean.”

Rooster smiles, but there’s pain in the depths of his burnt-honey orbs. “My old man perished over the ocean in 1986, so I think I did it to feel closer to him.”

And Scout, maybe more than anyone, understands that completely.

“It’s fucked up, isn’t it?” He muses.

Scout shakes her head. “There’s no right or wrong way to grieve, Rooster. You do what you can.”

It is not lost on her how perfect this night has been, but she knows her time to go is fast approaching. She tips back the rest of her drink, favoring the way it scorches the delicate lining of her throat as it goes down and gets up from her spot on the swing.

“I shared more of myself with you tonight than I have with anyone in a long time.”

Rooster gazes at her. “I'm honored.”

“It’s time for me to go, though. I wanted to thank you for this evening, it was wonderful.”

“It was a pleasure to have you join us, truly.” Rooster follows her to the front door and leans on the frame for support. “I want to take you out, Scout.”

And there it is again. No bullshit. A man who tells her exactly what he wants, and it causes butterflies to take flight in her belly. She thinks of Beau and Jake, and the hell of it all is that she likes Rooster. God, she likes him so much. So she says the only thing that she can think of in that moment, and then regrets it immediately.

“I want to be friends, Rooster.”

And there’s so much more that she could say to him. I want to be friends to get to know you. I want to be friends before I scare you off. I want to be friends before we get in too deep. But the right words fizzle and fade before she can voice them.

Rooster walks her out to her car. He hasn’t said anything in the wake of her admission, and she wonders if she's already fucked everything up. But then he simply tells her, “I’ll take what I can get, Scout. Frankie and I aren’t going anywhere.”

And despite everything, she believes him.

[yanderecrazysie]

[if this request goes against the rules please lmk and just ignore the parts that are againt the rules]

request:

sadistic kenma, who still plays volleyball and is dominate with reader being on the more submissive side and is tall who likes anime and a few games (not many but has a common knowledge on them)

Not against the rules at all, lovely Anon! I love that I’m writing for a tall reader btw, I think it’s my first time!

Title: Façade

Pairings: Kenma x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, sadistic tendencies, slight dacryphilia, bullying, mild description of injuries, tall reader, Kenma’s a bit OOC

Summary: Who would believe you if you were to say that quiet, barely-noticeable Kenma terrified you?

façade

/noun/

an outward appearance that is maintained to conceal a less pleasant or creditable reality.·    

     

Kenma was barely known throughout the school, even in his own class. Even though he was the setter of a volleyball team that’d made it to nationals multiple times, he was somehow invisible.

To the people who did notice him, he wasn’t anything special. Just a quiet, video game-addicted boy that didn’t bother anyone.

Anyone but you.

You were the only one who had seen a different side of Kenma. You doubted even his best friend, Kuroo, knew what kind of monster reared its ugly head when the two of you were alone.

It started after art class. Or maybe you just hadn’t noticed it until then.

The two of you were tasked to clean the classroom, so everyone left you together in awkward silence. You knew nothing about your classmate, so a part of you had been hoping to talk to him, but you could tell he wasn’t the talkative type.

It was as you were moving some of the sharper scissors that one slipped and sliced your hand open. You hissed and dropped the offending art tool, clutching your bleeding hand while inspecting the damage.

It wasn’t a deep cut, but it hurt and bled like one. You’d be fine, you’d just have to pick up a bandage from the nurse’s office. Everything was fine.

Until you turned around.

Kenma’s eyes were locked on your bleeding hand, a deep insatiable hunger swirling in them. He couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away, but definitely not out of horror. A chilling grin split his lips and his tongue flicked out to wet them once.

You were frozen in terror, horrified by this awful change in your classmate. Frightened beyond words by the way he seemed to enjoy seeing you injured. You barely remember muttering “nurse’s office…” before hurrying away from him and his sadistically hungry expression.

You couldn’t avoid him in class, but you stayed far away from him every other chance you got. Kenma, however… something must’ve awoken in him because, suddenly, the shy boy was inching closer to you whenever he could. He still gave you the chills.

When he walked into the anime club one Monday evening after school, you thought your heart stopped beating. He claimed volleyball practice was canceled, but that he wanted to stay at school until he normally left anyway. 

You wished he just went home and didn’t invade your club room. You felt dirty all of a sudden, like something you loved had been tainted. You couldn’t enjoy yourself that day, nor could you focus on anime and the anime-style video games that Kenma weaseled into the conversation.

The worst part came when he walked home with you. He apparently walked home with Kuroo usually, but he’d gone home after volleyball practice. Since your house was on the way, why not? Your clubmates encouraged you, probably trying to play cupid between you both.

You could tell your closest friend was shipping you with the boy, finding your height differences cute or something. Or maybe it was because she knew that you shared a love for a few of the games he had mentioned and, apparently, anime in general. Either way…

How could you explain that quiet, shy, harmless Kenma terrified you? 

You trudged alongside him as you went home, thanking everything that you lived close to the school and it would be a short walk.

You were so grateful, you didn’t even notice him sticking out his leg to trip you.

When you stood up, wincing from the pain, you found your knees and right elbow bleeding slightly. You seethed inside, wanting to lash out at him after you were sure he tripped you.

He played the part well, gasping and asking if you were alright. Fussing over you. Acting like he was innocent in all of this. But you knew better. His eyes were glued to your injuries and they gleamed with excitement and something darker.

It was as he dropped you off at your doorstep that you confirmed that you weren’t imagining it all. 

“You’re so pretty when you’re in pain.”

Would anyone believe you if you told them what he said?

No. No, they wouldn’t. You wouldn’t have, had you been an outsider to this situation.

But now you worried about him more than ever. You no longer felt safe in the anime club, worried he’d barge in and infect it with his creepiness whenever his club was cancelled. You were never safe in class, since he had switched seats to be by you each time.

It wasn’t until he started sitting behind you, though, that the trouble really started in class.

Yanking on your hair, kicking your heels, stabbing a pencil into the back of your neck… You had to sit there silently and endure it all, crying to yourself after class and hoping he didn’t see because, whenever he sought you out and found you that way, he looked more excited than ever to see your tears.

He’d even said once, when he’d followed you to your locker to find you crying there, “You’re so pretty when you cry.”

He was sadistic, that much was obvious, but no matter what you tried, he never backed down. You even tried to use your height to be intimidating, but he wasn’t phased. He’d never be phased as long as he had access to you. Or, more specifically, hurting you and making you cry.

You’d tried to hint to your friend that there was more to Kenma than meets the eye, but she was dismissive and playful, more concerned with an upcoming wedding than a funeral.

You tried to get evidence that he was hurting you, but it was difficult. If you had a camera out, Kenma wouldn’t try anything. If you tried to be sneakier and audio record him, he just remained silent. He always seemed to know what you were up to.

Kenma was intelligent and good at predicting others’ movements. You’d seen that in him the last time the school went to a volleyball tournament, but you never expected that to be used on you.

Would there ever be a way to show others that Kenma was nothing but cruel to you?

At this point, you were ready to give up.

The next time he cornered you, ready to hurt you once more, you begged to know why. You begged him to stop and leave you alone until your throat burned and tears pricked your eyes. It wasn’t long until you bowed so low that he became taller and the tears escaped your eyes, dripping to the floor, as you promised that you’d do anything for him if he’d just stop.

But as you raised your teary eyes to see his expression, you realized that it was all in vain. That Kenma would never stop torturing you.

His smile was wider than it had ever been before.