#that moment for unreachable SO true

[bibluebutterfly]

One thing I appreciate Helluva doing is how it establishes Stolas as a good, sweet person but doesn't excuse his actions.

A lot of people have been saying for some time that Helluva turned Stolas into a sad owl boi, which true, but at the same time it still works as that is who Stolas is at his core. He's depressed, repressed, and is dealing with some shitty stuff at the moment.

HOWEVER, even though he never means to hurt anyone, it doesn't change the fact that he still does. The show in season one held him accountable as a loving father to Octavia, still held him accountable when he unintentionally ignored her discomfort and not wanting to be there.

In the new Music Video it does the same with Blitz. We now know why he pursued Blitz, why he was so comfortable cheating on Stella, and why he was so forward with his dirty talk. But misunderstanding or no, it doesn't change the fact that Stolas still screwed up during his arrangement with Blitz. Even if he didn't mean to and thought it was something they both wanted, it doesn't change the fact that he still took advantage of a power imbalance and ignored the hints that Blitz may not have been as happy as he was.

And the show makes him take accountability for that. It has him address the fact that he was wrong, and that he's going to do everything in his power to make amends. Even if that means never seeing Blitz again.

I think that's such an important lesson in media. That even if you don't realize you hurt someone until it's too late, it doesn't change the fact that you still hurt them. You can be a genuinely good person who means no harm, but if you hurt someone you hurt someone and you need to take responsibility for that.

(Also it must be said that Blitz screws up too. He doesn't comprehend that Stolas can get hurt in any way, so that leads to him thinking he can do whatever he wants with and to Stolas and that Stolas will still be there. He doesn't think he needs to worry about Stolas's feelings which can and will probably cause problems in the future. Also it has to be said that even though Blitz does see Stolas as unreachable and above him, it doesn't change the fact that Blitz too took advantage of a married mans attraction to him in order to steal from him. Also Stolas wasn't Blitz's ONLY option to the human world, it was simply the EASIEST. But Blitz has been being called out by other characters so I think that's why the fandom is easier on him.)

Basically, both Stolas and Blitz are equally as guilty. But I love how Helluva sets them both as sympathetic, caring characters and yet still holds them responsible for their actions.

[danger-noodle-uwu]

Trigger warning [mentions of killing/arguments/death/break-ups/cheating/etc]

Satan

Wrath is vengeful, wrath is destruction however this never bothered you or got in the way of dating Satan, The Avatar of wrath himself.

But as one could say, the true nature of a being could never remain under the covers. There was vengeance peering above the surface, and destruction awaiting at an unknown's doors, you did not knew.

Satan had great many contacts and to keep that up, he need to do few favors but not every favor was not-so-bloody. And lost in such an expectations of others did he forget an important day like today.

As always the day started as chaos, which couldn't have been helped either way and the blond had grown sick of that, unknown to the cause of chaos and decided to act upon the list he had, completely overlooking your smile, or the stunning outfit complimenting your figure or the day itself.

Upon this ignorance of his, you really wished face-palm. His demeanor was rather annoying, which only fueled you more to smack him. Really hard.

Today was well-planned, at least that's what you thought before dragging him away from his target and scolding him for leaving you on your own in a place crawling with demons.

Satan being the literal embodiment of wrath yet also your lover said "Get off me. I have things to do. And stop being so damn clingy." "Hey, it's your fault for leaving me on my special day!plus, there's sooo many things I wanna do toda–"

"Please shut up for once in your goddamn life!!" His sharp scream cut you off as his eyes bore into yours; eyes full of hatred and disgust as if you were a wretched grotesque placed before him.

Those words accompanied by his harsh glares was enough to make your heart shatter and knifes to be jabbed in your chest while eyes stung with tears that you pathetically hid by averting them as you asked "what did I do wrong..?"

Who knew that one sentence was enough to make those unshed tears flow and litter your rosy cheeks that he'd usually squish and fawn over but alas, all that comforted you was his back.

"Your whole being is the most ugliest!" Lies. Lies. He knew his tongue spat venom at you with words that could never be true because you're his world but the blinding rage doesn't allow him to say so and thus instead, his hand runs through golden locks out of pure frustration as he finally turned to face you.

There was something terrifying about him that very moment which made you mumble out a small "...I'm sorry..." before running off; the sharp pain in your heart only grew with him staring at you like that. It was all just too much. His wrath was suffocating you but to ruin your birthday without even remembering it.

You did didn't care for how bad your muscles ached as you ran further away from him. All that you wanted is to be alone and cry your heart out in hopes that this agony would subside yet part of you hoped that he cared and would come after you or stop you. Which never happened.

Satan has always been so...uncooperative and complicated towards everyone that it almost made him unreachable at times especially when it comes to Lucifer however today, it became different.

His face was scrunched and tense as Lucifer advised him to give you space before talking things out and perhaps getting you a gift as well for both an apology and your birthday; his body pacing back and forth in his room reconsidering things he's spoke until now, not even bothered to consider this as a special day while his elder patiently waited for him to calm down. They both how much you mean to Satan despite him hurting you and making you feel unwanted.

And would anyone look at the avatar of wrath while he's on his knees; practically begging to set things write and for you to accept his apology. However much like always, you don't fail at surprising him when your lips clumsily crash against his.

That he moment he knew how truly beautiful you are in every sense. From physical appearance to your dream-like soul. Every inch was perfect.

Asmodeus

'Touchy and irresponsible as always' you sighed looking over and frowning at Asmodeus who was so clearly lost in the seemingly endless attention they give him as their hands roam his body while he's biting his lip. He was enjoying this, wasn't he?

The thought of him being touched by somebody else made your stomach churn and eyes sting with hurt and envy; he was the avatar of lust, true but couldn't he not do this on your birthday at least and pay attention to you.

You could bet as to how pathetic you were looking drinking demonus with tears in your eyes and surrounded by demons who could just swallow you whole without your lover even batting an eye. Afterall, he'd rather be someone's bed warmer than your boyfriend.

"Hey...are you okay?" Honestly, you didn't know this stranger's name or anything about him but he still had some concern for your well-being; way more than your beloved however made you self-conscious as how pathetic you may have appeared and let your emotions get the best of you in front of unknown people.

"Yea..." you replied flushed from embarrassment and the crimson liquid that rested in your glass. It was really humiliating and made you feel awfully shy at the same time.

"If you say so, but don't hesitate to tell me if there's anything bothering you or if—" He leans closer to whisper in your ear before continuing "—someone's bothering you..." His voice was authoritative yet gentle much akin to a soft breeze from the human world despite being a demon.

"Oh! And I'm Ethan..." a blush ghosted over his cheeks as he realized that he hadn't even introduced himself while you told him yours as he gave you his number offering to help you just in case.

Truth be told, you were smiling to yourself glancing on the tissue that he wrote his number on and the fact that he even wrote happy to help made you grin wider. It was such a sweet gesture.

However unknownst to you, Asmo seemed to have noticed the whole interaction and was fuming with envy; so jealous that he could put Levi to shame. His face burned with heat and beads of sweat rolled down. He hated how that putrid demon had the audacity to flirt and blush at you yet his anger only stirred further when you smiled at him.

The avatar of lust stormed over to you and dragging you out of the fall, harsh grip on your wrist that would probably leave a bruise and then slammed you against the cold wall in the alleyway.

"What are you—!!" You were muffled by his lips smashing against yours; hands roaming your body as desire burned in your veins. Lips synced and danced against each other into a steamy make-out session however he pulled away.

"Why were you flirting with that guy?! You know that demons can hurt you then why my darling must you do this?!" It was irritating as to how he interrogated you but didn't even consider his own actions and the way he neglected you.

Did he even remember your birthday..?

"You say this as if YOU weren't smothering some random people in front of your girlfriend on OUR date!!" And finally, he realized what he's been doing all day. He was avoiding and ignoring you, too busy and consumed by his own...thoughts while you constantly tried to spend quality time with him.

"Baby...I'm sorry..." He coos gently holding your face and cradling you as tears cascaded your face. You looked so miserable because him and he made an internal promise to treat you better and not neglect your emotions.

"Y-you even forgot my birthday..." you sobbed into his soft hands as his eyes widened before he kissed you again. This time much gently and lovingly; full of adoration and affection but desperate for you.

You knew he meant it but forgiving is easier said than done. Even if you would accept him, it'd much later as for now, you wanted him to show is emotions; his real self that was vulnerable and loving; one that was guilty of hurting you. One that loved you beyond his own sin.

You would be lying if you said your heart wasn't melting for him as his hand intertwined with yours while the other rested around your waist and blush littered his face; all for you.

All of him softened just for you; all those emotions showered upon you because all of his love was meant for you.

Beelzebub

Gluttony is like a venom that spreads in your body; turning one into a hungry beast ready to devour his prey and another into a starved being—but for somebody who personified the sin in itself would be beyond a monster or an other horrendous creature imaginable.

Thus, can you really blame Beelzebub for ingesting the whole food supply of house of lamentation alongside of some cutlery after a seemingly intense workout as well 7 hours of helping satan shift his books in order to clean the empty space.

He was salivating at the sight of everything before as his vision molded it into something edible...delicious and well; in front of him were you, standing there awkwardly as his eyes hovered over you however not in a lustful but more like a locking the meat of your bones manner.

"B-beel, you alright..?" His intense gaze made you feel uncomfortable as you shifted in your place yet he didn't blink once as if his hunger overtook him...making him forget who you were.

You couldn't breathe, couldn't move an inch without him lunging at you with those eyes full of hunger for anything to satiate the emptiness within his stomach including you. However, Luck was on your side since it was your own birthday as Asmodeus happened to pass by the scene hoisting his phone up taking selfish before rushing towards you.

"Darling, Beel, what are you guys... doing?" By the end of his question, he knew what was coming. He is well aquaintated with Beel's endless hunger that violently shook the atmosphere in the whole house.

As you stood unblinking staring back at the avatar of gluttony trembling with fear whilst his ragged breaths were heard in the silence of the hall. The very next second he pounced at you transforming into his demon form; claws beared as if he was readily about to rip your heart out.

Yet somehow you were alive; alive and thrown over like a sack of potatoes on Asmo's shoulder as he sprinted towards his room with an echoing sound of certain rumbling in the background that made shiver in dread.

"Honey, you're alright. You're safe, okay? Phew!" He collapsed next to you on the floor next to you after ensuring the door was properly locked, clearly out of breath while still attempting to comfort your troubled form.

Despite knowing he cannot control his hunger, you couldn't help but tighten your throat or fall victim to the ache plastered within your chest. He loves you, you know it but this...hurt more than expected.

The clutches of gluttony were like shackles that bound him and drove him to try to...the thought alone makes you want throw up or is it because his twin succeeded at a similar task.

"Hey...Mc, don't cry, darling. It'll all be okay, I promise! Forget everything it's your birthday, isn't it?" The blond cradled you in his arms trying to shush away your tears meanwhile you sobbed and cried; planned everything, got up early to bake for him and even got the tickets to a movie he was excited about.

"It's so unfair! So unfair, Asmo!!" Why did this have to happen when all you did was try your best? Why are you doomed to fail at every given task? Was this all your fault?

Such thoughts consumed you wholly as your sobs turned into more cries that dragged Asmo's poor heart along with it; it hurt him so much to see someone he considered family be hurt so much. To be broken that they're reduced to a teary mess on the floor.

In the hallway, Lucifer and Satan towered upon Beelzebub who finally calmed down, happily chomping the food he was given; almost uncaring of his twin that laid kissing the ground with a large bruise forming on his forehead.

"W-where *chomp* is cupcake?" He muttered with a mouthful, thinking you must be hungry and not even remembering what he did as he was a puppet under the control of his sin.

"In Asmodues's room..." Lucifer sighed while Satan raged at the sight of the havoc wrecked upon his book—cursed ones, collector's edition, etc. They were everywhere torn into half or bites into and discarded afterwards.

"They must be sobbing since you were ever so nice to them on their birthday!" Satan mocked knowing how badly his brother fucked up while the orange head gushed the memories right into his eyes. Each moment he made a decision worse than the other.

"Oh my poor Mc, sleep well..." you didn't realize how exhausted you were from the whole event that you passed out between Asmo's arms who later tucked you within the comforting confines of your own bed.

But peace never really lasted long as you woke up, only to be greeted by a decorated room, a cake with several other snacks littered on the table and Beelzebub by your side with apologetic eyes as a melody played accompanied by the voices belonging to the remaining brothers.

"I'm sorry, cupcake...I didn't mean to scare you or hurt you, I just don't know what's wrong with me but please forgive me...I love you..." His eyes bore guilt as he was reminded of an older time, an older mistake before his hands caged yours affectionately before kissing them lovingly.

The orange headed demon never wished to be more than your protector, that gives away his life to save yours but also a lover that wants to build a family with you; one that he loves dearer than himself.

Belphegor

Does fate really hate you? If not, why must it be you who suffers with people misunderstanding you or blaming you for actions not performed by you?

"Come on, it's not that bad...just a stupid nightmare!" You hopped onto your feet before changing into your outfit for the day; one that made you feel good about yourself unlike the haunting nightmares that weren't leaving you alone.

As you left your room trying your best to force a smile out, there was a voice that felt familiar as it belonged to a certain great demon who bestowed the wishes of having the best birthday.

"Happy birthday, h-human!" He spoke loudly as if reminding the others of the day despite the whole hall being empty. The gesture in itself was funny, his hand putting your head like a puppy except for the part he himself looked like one.

"Thanks, mammon." And there it was your signature smile that could possibly make anybody melt, though how could you believe it; a rose can never see its reflection.

Reaching the dining hall, the atmosphere felt tense as if everyone was on edge, all but one person. He was missing entirely. Belphegor wasn't there. Was he still asleep?

Before you could ask, Lucifer announced "Belphegor will not be joining us today." And continued to finish his breakfast with what seemed to be a bothered expression.

"Hey beel, what happened?" You couldn't help wonder what did your boyfriend did this time to piss of the eldest and if so, why wasn't satan assisting the crime. "Belphi, h-he said some really mean things..." beelzebub was feeling guilty fill up his stomach, his appetite dying or perhaps killed by someone else.

"Okay..." you knew that the orange headed demon was hiding something, swallowing his own words however why you just couldn't decipher. His voice was strained that it made you feel very uneasy about what really conspired when you were asleep.

"Levi, can you tell me what really happened? Please!!" You pleaded with puppy eyes as soon as the remaining brothers had dispersed from the dining hall; to avoid the extra ears and overly exaggerated explanations.

"Normie, first off promise me you won't tell anybody that i told you this!" He whisper-yelled as you nodded your head vigorously. "Okay--fine, so belphi woke up in a super sour mood and since lucifer decided to call him to the dining hall himself...he said a lot of mean things..."

Leviathan felt a bitter taste in his mouth knowing his next words would most likely ruin your birthday and put you into doubt of your own relationship and partner.

"He spoke a lot of nonsense about lucifer, you know normie...And he--um, he said you weren't that great and just kinda wasted his time w-which is like total bullshit, right? Like normie, you're like Henry 3.0, totally cool and awesome!" He tried his best to soothe the wound he had to give you in order for the truth to be told.

But there it was, a sound of your own heart being crushed and sensation of wet tears dripping down your cheeks. It hurt you so much to hear that your lover spoke of you behind your back that you couldn't take it anymore and sprinted all the way back to your room; leaving Leviathan to only his worry and concern in the dining hall.

Especially on your birthday, that in itself felt like a cheap move being played on you as you felt needles pricking through your chest, and it hurt so much. It felt like the nightmares were true when they played the same scenario where he used you; he used you like a pawn.

Meanwhile, in the twins' room, Belphegor laid in bed with a weird feeling filling him; one that felt so heavy that he couldn't sleep it off. But why? He just couldn't pinpoint.

"Belphi, have spoken with Mc yet? It's their birthday...you should really go to see them..." the avatar of gluttony had his head lowered as he pouted; visibly hungry but at a lack of food.

"WHAT!" "Yea its their birthday, belphi..?" Belphegor panicked for at least 5 minutes before gathering himself and rushing to the kitchen to make something--a cake, should it be okay but what if you're craving ramen instead..? Or something salty? SHIT

He's never been so frantic and panicked; he felt like a single mother raising 6 children...wait why does that sound familiar? ANYWAYS, no time for that.

It took about 2 hours for the whole thing to be prepared; while he had tasked satan to buy your favorite snacks. In the end, he was drenched in sweat from the whole last minute preparation that he did.

On the other hand, you were passed out on your bed; tears dried up on your face and slightly puffy lips and very gracelessly flopped onto your bed.

Belphegor's heart ached at the sight of you, he knew his words have been heard by someone who didn't deserve them. Who deserved love and not such cruel things.

"Love, wake up...c'mon its your birthday..." He voice was gentle as if a one wrong word could shatter you like glass and his hands caressed your cheeks; before kissing you passionately.

You rubbed your eyes as your boyfriend kissed your forehead and pulled you off of the bed. He was smothering you with kisses somewhat lazily; letting eachone feel feather like on your skin.

"Happy birthday my star, I'm sorry for what is said earlier...I promise you that I never meant any of it...I just--lost myself to anger, I'm sorry." He's efforts were visible in both his voice and your room; the blanket Fort certainly seemed impressive and most likely he had your favorite movie paused.

"It's not okay to speak such things about you're partner belphi on any day let alone their birthday. Yet I am much kinder than you think...I forgive you." You pouted with fake anger evident in your voice; playing pretend was fun as hr fell for your words in the beginning but definitely caught up in the end.

And as the day came to a close, you both were snuggled into each other's warmth and cuddling; the harsh words and hot tears forgotten or perhaps changed into smiles of contentment.

Afterall, belphegor was your dark sky and you were his star; without one the other would feel empty and out of place. He was the one who wanted to drown into the depths with you or burn with the passion he held for you...And both remain a pleasure to him...

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

A/n; I had no ideas for belphi and was abt to write he slept that it off like he was in a coma xD

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Anyways,

ℍ𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕒 𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝕕𝕒𝕪

[tinytinyblogs]

Gonna show them you're mine

Seonghwa is tired of keeping you and his relationship a secret; he's ready to take action.

(non-idol au, include one curse word) 2,4k words

💬@s1riushwa Thanks for this request! I hope you like the story I wrote for you. If you have more requests, feel free to let me know—I'm here to help!

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Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

He's really liked by a lot of people because he represents everything many wish to be. With his good looks, kindness, and caring nature, he seems like the perfect person. When he walks into a room, a bunch of people gather to look at him and appreciate how amazing he is. He has lots of different friends, and it seems like his life is really cool. It's like he's walking on a special path with flowers, a path that others can only dream of. When he's around, people can't help but think he's extraordinary, making him stand out as a really special person. Park Seonghwa is known all over the university, and even students from other schools know him. He's the main person everyone pays attention to, catching the eye of the whole university community. In simple terms, he's not just popular for his looks but also for being an outstanding person at the university. His popularity goes beyond just his own school; it reaches and connects with students from other schools too.

It's not only in his immediate academic surroundings that he gets attention. Instead, his influence and importance go beyond that, making him a central figure in the larger student community. You find yourself to be entirely different and the opposite of him, Park Seonghwa – a regular student leading a simple life that's quite different from his impressive and glamorous existence. Your group of friends is small, and your quiet and understated personality often means some students don't notice you, as you tend to keep to yourself. In every way, you give off an ordinary vibe. Both you and Seonghwa share the same university space, but it's like comparing day and night because even though you're aware of his presence, your lives are quite different. Every so often, you watch him from a distance, observing how people are drawn to him, creating a scene that feels like an unreachable experience in your own quieter world.

Your day usually involves basic activities like coming to the university, attending classes, exchanging greetings with a few familiar faces, and then heading home after it's all done. However, in this routine, there's a noticeable lack of the attention and recognition that seems to naturally come Seonghwa's way every day. Unlike him, your presence doesn't attract the same level of notice or interest from those around you. The difference is clear as you navigate through the academic world – Seonghwa effortlessly grabs attention, while you go about your routine with a feeling of being somewhat unnoticed, blending into the background. Life is like a complex picture, and surprises often hide in the corners, away from the eyes of the world. What no one really knows is that, in the busy university life, there's a secret relationship between you and Seonghwa.

Away from public view, you both share private moments as a couple, and Seonghwa proves to be the most wonderful boyfriend you've ever had. The choice to keep your relationship a secret comes from an agreement between you and Seonghwa. Mainly, it's a way to protect you from any potential negativity or unwanted attention that often comes with being connected to someone like Seonghwa. Knowing that some people can get possessive and intense about him, Seonghwa wants to keep you away from any hate or criticism that might come your way. Additionally, both of you understand the importance of keeping the real and personal aspects of your connection safe and intact. By keeping your relationship a secret, you create a special place where the true nature of your connection remains protected from outside influences.

This decision is intentional, aiming for your relationship to develop naturally, shielded from the sometimes harsh judgment of the public eye. So, you and Seonghwa continue to navigate the complexities of your romance in the comforting privacy, appreciating the authentic bond you share away from the prying eyes of the world. But one thing you may overlook is that even though you're not in the spotlight, it doesn't mean others aren't aware of your presence. Just as Seonghwa was captivated by you and charmed by your personality, there are undoubtedly others who have also taken notice. In the intricate dance of human connections, the mysterious and undiscovered often attract people, drawing them towards you, even if the details of your romantic involvement with Seonghwa remain hidden. In the middle of the busy crowd surrounding Seonghwa, there was a moment that made this clear.

He watched as a stranger approached and started chatting with you as if it was a regular conversation. From an outsider's view, it looked normal – just people talking casually. But little did this person know, your heart belonged to Seonghwa, and the conversation only covered what was necessary. The hidden aspects of your relationship added complexity to these seemingly ordinary interactions that unfolded in the colorful tapestry of your shared university experience. As time passed, Seonghwa began to notice a repeated pattern. There was someone who consistently lingered around you, having long conversations and giving subtle glances that, though not obvious, didn't escape Seonghwa's keen awareness. Having experienced those meaningful glances before, Seonghwa understood their importance. As this situation unfolded, a feeling of discomfort started to settle within him.

Even with many people around in different social settings, Seonghwa's focus stayed firmly on you. Seeing you exchange smiles with this persistent person stirred up a mix of emotions in him — a complicated blend of sadness and frustration. The conflict deepened for Seonghwa, who values openness and honesty. He found himself torn between wanting to express his feelings and recognizing the complexity of the situation. The contrast between the lively social scene and the quiet ache in his heart became more noticeable, creating a sense of discord that tested Seonghwa's emotional strength. However, Seonghwa now faces a dilemma. His frustration is not directed at you; instead, he's upset with himself. To your eyes, the other guy seems friendly, but Seonghwa knows the hidden motives behind the guy's seemingly pleasant behavior.

At a certain point, Seonghwa felt a strong urge to step in, to confidently approach you and pull you away from the constant presence of that persistent person. However, a strong restraint held him back — a clear awareness of the potential consequences if the public found out about the secret nature of your relationship. The internal struggle grew into a growing concern, becoming a heavy burden on Seonghwa's heart. The stark difference between the private haven of your affectionate moments behind the scenes of university life and the external appearance of two seemingly unrelated strangers on campus became an increasingly pressing issue. While the idea of maintaining this double life seemed okay at first, Seonghwa started to doubt how sustainable it was. The gap between the close connection you had in private and the apparent distance in public became more noticeable.

This led Seonghwa to realize that what initially seemed fine was now causing discomfort. The delicate balance he had tried to keep was starting to fall apart, making him face the complexities of a relationship that thrives in secrecy but desires acknowledgment in the open. As Seonghwa's jealousy became more apparent, you couldn't help but notice a change in his gaze. Even in busy crowds, his eyes seemed to tell a tale of longing and possessiveness, expressing the unspoken emotions swirling within him. At times, he would purposely take you to quiet places during breaks, a subtle but intentional effort to enjoy moments of focused attention that he felt were being given to the other person. Despite the obvious signs of jealousy, his responses to your questions remained guarded, with seemingly casual phrases like "I'm fine" or "Just wanted to be with you" whenever you asked about his feelings.

The contrast between Seonghwa's quiet expressions of longing and his outward assurances that everything was okay created a complex interplay of emotions. His desire for the attention you gave to the other person became a strong motivation behind these private moments, sharply contrasting with the calm responses he gave when questioned. The dynamic between the unspoken wish for a special connection and the act of appearing casual added a complex layer to the evolving story of your relationship, leaving both of you navigating the fragile terrain of emotions and unspoken feelings. All Seonghwa wants is to have your complete attention, just for himself. As Seonghwa, your dedicated partner, got more and more wrapped up in a mix of emotions, he found himself daydreaming about being openly recognized. He felt a twinge of jealousy watching other couples freely showing their love in public, holding hands as if the world revolved around their shared moments.

The longing to break free from the secrecy started growing within him, pushing him to express the thoughts that had been swirling in his mind. One evening, in the cozy setting of your home after a day at the university, Seonghwa cautiously brought up the topic. With his hand gently on your cheek, he pondered out loud, "What if we let people know that we're dating?" The question hung in the air, carrying the weight of his unspoken desires. Your response served as a gentle reminder of the agreement you both made to keep your relationship private, framing the conversation within the context of the deliberate choice you had made together. The contrast between Seonghwa's longing for public recognition and the commitment to maintaining secrecy added a poignant color to the delicate dynamics of your shared connection. The tipping point for Seonghwa came on a particular day when he noticed the other guy crossing certain boundaries.

The situation became more intense as Seonghwa saw lingering gazes filled with affection directed at you, even when your attention was elsewhere. The moment became especially difficult for him as he witnessed the guy's enamored smile in response to the sweet gestures or actions you took. In Seonghwa's heart, those gestures were supposed to be exclusively reserved for him, and the realization that someone else was intruding on what he considered his own territory proved too much for him to bear. The turning point, however, happened when the guy went so far as to use his hand to gently move strands of your hair away from your face. This seemingly innocent action, with an underlying tone of familiarity and intimacy, stirred up a storm within Seonghwa. The surge of possessiveness and jealousy that had been building up underneath erupted, and Seonghwa found himself unable to hold back the swirl of emotions any longer.

This explosive reaction was a clear expression of the emotional turmoil that had been brewing. Seonghwa struggled with the unsettling idea that someone else was intruding into the space of affection and connection that he believed should belong exclusively to him. In a moment of intense emotion, Seonghwa forcefully moved through the crowd, creating a path that brought him closer to you. Without a second thought, he grabbed your hand, urging you to follow him as he quickly guided you towards the privacy of the school rooftop. He was determined to distance both of you from the presence of that other guy who had been encroaching on what Seonghwa considered his own territory. In the heat of the moment, there was a strong intensity as Seonghwa pulled you along, gently but firmly pressing you against a wall along the way. Seeing your worried expression, you sought answers from Seonghwa, asking, "Hwa, what's wrong?" A heavy silence hung in the air as Seonghwa, still catching his breath, wrestled with the powerful emotions that had driven him into this sudden escape.

The presence of the other guy had stirred up a storm within him, leaving him momentarily unable to speak. "They're going to see us," you pointed out, trying to make sense of the situation. However, Seonghwa, with a determined shake of his head, dismissed any concerns about potential onlookers. "I don't care," he asserted, his voice carrying a newfound determination. "I no longer care whether they know or not." Placing a hand gently on your chin and drawing you even closer, he expressed his unfiltered feelings, "I want them to know that you are mine." The weight of his words, filled with possessiveness and a desire for public recognition, hung in the air, marking a significant moment in your relationship as Seonghwa unabashedly took control of the narrative of your shared connection. A significant realization dawned on Seonghwa as he looked into your eyes, reflecting on the depth of his emotions.

A feeling of regret swept over him, tied to the choice to keep your relationship a secret. In the earnestness of your gaze, he found himself revisiting the beginning of his affection for you, realizing that, right from the start, he should have proudly declared your connection to the world, without caring about others' opinions or attention. "I should announce to the whole world that you are mine," Seonghwa admitted with a hint of remorse, recognizing the weight of the emotions he had concealed. The intensity of your stare served as a poignant reminder of the missed chances to openly celebrate your love. In response, he declared, "No, I won't let anyone else love what's mine. I won't let anyone else entertain the idea that they have a chance." The firmness in his tone reflected a newfound determination to claim his stake and protect the sanctity of your connection.

Seonghwa, unwavering in his dedication, declared that regardless of others' approval or the acceptance of the other guy, you were undeniably his beloved. This statement served as a strong assertion of ownership and a commitment to no longer hide the love that rightfully belonged to him. Disregarding societal judgments, Seonghwa boldly stated, "I don't care about what other people think! Tomorrow, I'll proudly hold your hand all the way to university." The passion in his words was sealed with a heartfelt kiss, a tangible symbol of his resolve to cast aside the secrecy that had concealed your relationship. As the rooftop door opened, revealing both of you, Seonghwa met the other guy's gaze without hesitation. Instead of avoiding it, Seonghwa embraced the revelation, wanting the guy to understand the depth of your connection.

In that moment, Seonghwa's casual attitude carried a clear message: your love was no longer a secret to be kept. With the truth out in the open, Seonghwa's lack of concern about the possibility of news spreading about your relationship became apparent. In his eyes, others' opinions didn't matter much. The most important thing was that you belonged to him, and as long as that remained true, everything else could fall into place however it might. The recognition of your love, free from external judgments, marked a significant change in your relationship dynamics. Seonghwa embraced an unwavering determination to openly claim you, unaffected by the opinions of the world around you. Because, once again, whether they like it or not, you are his, no matter what.

©Tinytinyblogs

[rookthorne]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑯𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 𝑯𝑨𝑳𝑳𝑶𝑾𝑬𝑬𝑵

》 𝐀 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

It had come time for the final chase. Halloween had loomed in the back of your mind, until the night finally came. The Soldat’s promise from your first encounter rang true as you prepared — a promise that terrified and excited you in equal measure.  Time would only tell, and you had to hope you were ready for the final hunt.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 》 Scare Actor!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 》 3.2k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 》 Fluff, consensual stalking, primal, knife play, implied spice, use of a mask in an unorthodox situation, possessive behaviour

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 》 The conclusion to my first published multi-chapter fic and it has been some of the most fun I have ever had. 》 Thank you all so much for the love and interaction. 》 Happy Halloween, my chaos kittens!

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒂 》 @smutconnoisseur

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 》 @rookthorne's Fright Night — Masterlist

》 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎

》 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑯𝒖𝒏𝒕 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

Halloween night loomed, rushing closer and closer as you worked feverishly. The hours flew by faster than you could catch them, and you were growing desperate to gain a semblance of control over the chaos that was your costume. 

The moniker of kitten had inspired the last minute changes to your outfit – soft, fluffy, white ears sat on a headband, while the rest of your outfit followed the theme, too. 

By some miracle, you had found gloves that resembled white paws, and white boots that shone under the light of your bedroom. It was a comfortable fit – easy to move in, which would serve you well, and you had a very strong feeling that Bucky would love it. 

Since he had dropped you home that morning, you had texted one another non-stop to the point he had to put his foot down and tell you to switch off your phone to sleep. You had cursed him out with numerous, foul emojis, and said goodnight. He had laughed and wished you sweet dreams. 

Later that morning, when you finally awoke, you found he had texted as he prepared for that night’s celebrations. There were photos of his costume, stripped and cleaned, hung up on a coat hanger to dry with the caption attached: battle ready, it’s going to be insane tonight. I can’t wait to hunt you down.

The words had made the butterflies in your stomach roar and pitch such a fit you had to sit on the edge of your bed to get your bearings back. Texts followed on from that promising threat, and he said that he would not be wearing kohl that night, but he would be carrying more prop weapons – his favourites, as he so giddily stated. 

It was an odd situation to sit back and think about. With such a fast connection, unlike any you had developed before, you had grown to crave his presence and his touch. Bucky was a man that had his head on straight, prioritising respect and kindness – a feat most couldn’t even be bothered to achieve. 

With that thought, and realisation, a strange, foreign feeling settled in your stomach – the butterflies that fluttered there seemingly becoming lighter, as though they would take flight and carry you with them. 

Nightfall arrived quickly once you had finally sorted and dressed in your costume, and the moon was high in the sky as you journeyed to your haven.

The sheer amount of people that crowded the entrance of the park was astonishing. Every single visitor, of all ages, were dressed head to toe in costumes that ranged from expert to home crafted. Colours, props, and contrasts made few stand out amongst them. 

An hour prior to your arrival, you received a text from Bucky – he was on shift and he was now in costume. Since his suit had no viable pocket for his phone, that meant that he would also be unreachable from that point on. With that announcement, he had also doubled down on the threats of being hunted from the moment you would step foot in the park. 

If you were honest, you weren’t sure whether he was given help to find you via a comms device in his ear, or if he truly was that skilled in tracking and finding you in the crowd. 

Music blasted from the numerous speakers that lined the entryway and fogged billowed from machines as you neared the entry booth. It was almost unrecognisable from the first night of your visit, and compared to the night before, the decorations were even more intense. 

The park pyrotechnics lit up the fences and buildings in beat with the music, a song you recognised to be a tune similar to something resembling Rob Zombie – though it was hard to tell over all of the yelling and screaming from those already in the park. 

You watched as actors stalked up and down the lines, jostling visitors and riling up the try-hards, when a familiar face came into view. 

“Ah, there she is,” they said, and your eyes widened as they approached. If you weren’t mistaken, this was Bucky’s best friend, Steve – the man clad in black that you had bumped into the night before. “I was told a little lamb would make it back tonight. A certain Soldat has passed on the message that you were to…” He looked up and down the line, gesturing boredly. “Skip the crowds. C’mon, no point waiting out for your slaughter.”

Steve offered his hand, and you hesitated in taking it. “This isn’t a ploy to corner me, is it?”

He laughed, a deep rumble in his chest. You couldn’t help but stare at the blazing red insignia there. “No, no, I think I’d end up dead if I decided to target you myself. He’s a bit ruthless, not to mention territorial over what’s his.”

You blinked and looked at Steve, he only shrugged. “His?” you repeated, walking side by side with him. 

“Yeah,” Steve laughed. He led you between the booth lines and waved to the worker as he walked past. “It seems our Soldat has taken to the little lamb that ventured out of her depth. I can’t blame him, though,” he said, arching a brow as he looked at you from the corner of his eye. “You are sweet–feisty, too.”

“You flatter me,” you deadpanned, and Steve barked a laugh. “So, where is he?”

“Oh, he’ll find you, lamb. Run along–get a head start if you want to make it out alive tonight.” With that last threat, Steve turned and strode off, leaving you in the entryway of the park between the arches of the rides and food court. 

Pyrotechnics and fog plagued your vision – yellow and orange flames followed by glowing green and purple smoke that roiled and rolled at your feet. The lack of any markers like there had been the previous nights left you feeling disorientated; lost and scared for your fate at the hands of the one that hunted you. 

There was a crowd of people moving past you when the first scare of the night overtook you. A middle-aged man pointed up towards the top of a prop building. “He’s there, look!”

Your stomach swooped and your heart rammed against your ribs. The implication of him sent a harsh shiver up your spine, but you still looked to the sky, searching the top of the surrounding buildings. 

A blast of fire silhouetted a crouched man on the building furthest to your left. He was crouched on the edge, perched with a rifle in his hands; the scope was pointed straight at you. Time slowed as you stared, taking in the way the man’s hands flexed over the trigger before there was a shot, not unlike the sound of a cannon blasting off, and the ground at your feet was splattered with red. 

Tendrils of it landed over your shoes and pants, splattering over your white costume and marking it for all to see. You yelled in shock as you rapidly stepped back, treading on the shoes of passersby in an attempt to get away from the scene. 

“Sorry, sorry! Shit-” you hissed, stopping only once you reached a few paces from the splattered red. The state of your costume was alarming – it was as though you had been an extra on the set of Carrie. 

Instinctively, you looked up at the prop building to find that man standing tall on the edge. The gun was pointed down towards his feet, and the strap was over his chest. You watched as Soldat tilted his head, long hair swaying to the side with the movement, and he pointed directly at your chest, then your feet.

The message was clear. You had been marked – marked for the hunt, and he was after you. 

“Fuck.” 

People parted quickly as you rushed off, running in a random direction to get some semblance of a head start against him. Your feet pounded against the pavement in time with the beat of the music and it fuelled your adrenaline – a game of chase unlike any you’d experienced before. “Excuse me, move,” you shouted over the music, shoving the people who didn’t move in time. 

Actors called and whoop after you, the signature bloody mark over your clothes a sign they evidently knew well. 

“And there goes our little lamb,” Widow called as you dashed past. “Run, run! He’s after you!”

“Thanks!” you yelled over your shoulder, and you took a sharp turn towards the amenities. There was a small building to the side, it was shrouded in the dark and considering its distance from the main crowds, you wouldn’t be discovered. At least, not by a bystander – Soldat was another beast entirely. 

The stitch in your chest pulled you up short and you stumbled to the building, putting your back against it with a gasp for air. Muffled sounds echoed from the grounds; screams, music, and pleas to be left alone, but there was not a single sign that Soldat had followed. “Maybe I’m safe,” you mumbled, looking from left to right. No moving shadows, no shrouded figures…

You moved off the wall, stepping slowly and deliberately towards the lights of the overhead spotlights. The pad of your shoes squelched with the wet substance that coated them – of which you prayed was in fact, just paint – and you peered around the corner. No one was there, and you released a sigh of relief. 

“You really must learn to be better aware of your surroundings, kotenok.”

The scream tore from your throat before you could clamp your mouth shut, and you whipped around to find the source – Soldat was leaning against the opposite wall, foot propped up against it while he flipped a knife in his metal hand, ignorant of the glint of the blade as it flashed. “Bucky!”

Soldat tilted his head. “It is not that easy, little one. I promised that by the fall of this night, you would know just who you belonged to–as far as I can tell, you still do not seem to understand that you are in my world now, and at my mercy.”

“You son of a bitch,” you groaned, putting your hands on your hips. “That’s not fair.”

“Not fair?” He pushed off the wall. The graceful way he moved entranced you and you flinched as he stepped in front of you, head tilted the opposite way; grey irises shrouded with shadowed intent. “Oh, kotenok–if only you knew just what I plan on doing to you when I catch you in our little game. You would not be so petulant.”

“Game?” you blustered, staring back at him with indignation. “This is a game to you? Making me run for my life, this act all for fun?”

Soldat leaned in close, his breath hot over your lips again – if he had not been wearing the mask, you would have taken the chance to kiss him. “Run, kotenok, run.” 

The implicit danger of his words made a shudder of fear ripple down your spine. You turned and bolted, not caring as you passed by crowds that stared; pointedly ignoring the whoops of actors that watched your progress with sneers of amusement. 

Your legs ached with exhaustion but you didn’t dare stop for rest. There were shrieks and calls behind you, each of which sounded more exhilarated and fearful than the last: “It’s him! Look!” and “Soldat’s here!”

“You are not fast enough,” Soldat rasped behind you, his voice trailing all the way down to your last nerve. You shrieked and jumped, pushing your tired legs harder, the pounding of your feet on the pavement quickening. “If you concede, little kotenok,” he continued, this time from right next to you, “I will go easy on my prey. Just this once.”

“Bastard,” you huffed, and with all the strength you could muster, you pushed forward and darted between two food stands, forcing him to fall back. “Can’t catch me now!”

Your bravado soared when you glanced back over your shoulder to see he was no longer tailing you. The ache in your legs reached such a pitch that you stumbled to a choppy walk, limping as you panted for breath and frantically thinking of where to run next. 

“Fuck, fuck,” you huffed, and you sat down on an empty bench, careful to not have your back against the shrubbery, lest he surprise you again. “I can’t keep doing this.” 

For a second, you closed your eyes and breathed deeply, collecting your scrambled thoughts, when a hand covered your mouth and another cupped your throat. “You can, kotenok. And you will.”

You jumped and looked up. Soldat was looking down at you, eyes narrowed playfully. A cold, metal thumb brushed against the front of your throat, and to an onlooker, it would appear as though he was adjusting his grip. He bent down so his hair tickled your cheeks. “Are you alright, doll? Do you need to stop?”

The words were quiet, but assuring, especially while dressed in character. You shook your head and looked into his eyes. “I’m okay–promise, you’re just giving me a run for my money.”

He chuckled and stood up straight, the brightness of his eyes completely out of character. “Why don’t you walk with me?” He gestured around at the crowds, and he pulled out his knife to flip it. “I have been told I can make an appearance and stay out in the open tonight–keep the myth alive.”

“Why not,” you replied, getting to your feet with a groan. “I could do with just a walk.” 

“That is fair,” he hummed. “I must admit, our game of cat and mouse has grown to be such a rush. You make it far too easy for me, though.” You looked over at him and narrowed your eyes. He shrugged indifferently and walked ahead of you, still flipping the knife. “Stay with me, kotenok. You can watch these people lose it.”

“Okay,” you laughed, and you kept a steady pace, careful to stay behind Bucky – the distance allowed you an opportunity to stare at his ass while he walked, which led to the discovery that the tactical canvas pants of his costume clung to his thighs just as well as his jeans. “You have a nice butt.”

You heard a snort of laughter that was covered by a cough, and you watched him shake his head. “What? It’s true.” 

“Do not distract me,” he growled lowly – just audible over the pounding music. “Or you will pay for it.”

“That a threat or a promise?” you fired back, and you could have sworn you had flipped a switch in his mind by the tense line of his shoulders and sudden rigid posture. 

The look he fired you over his shoulder made your legs turn to jelly, and you vaguely filed away that tidbit of information away for later – much, much later. 

At a small distance, you followed Bucky as he walked through the crowds. There was one instance where, like you, a man must have signed the waiver to be handled by The Soldat, because Bucky pinned him against the wall and stared into the stranger’s eyes as he stared wide-eyed back. 

Music boomed to the right of you so you couldn’t make out the whimper or the words that escaped his lips, but Bucky pulled back off of the man to watch him slump down onto the floor. 

With his back turned and the stillness of his body, you took the chance to take in his costume. High on his back, between his shoulder blades, a gun was holstered with a magazine attached, while holsters on his thighs and hips were full to the brim with other props. The rifle he had used on you at the beginning of the night wasn’t strapped to his back, but you took note of the large knife strapped to his belt where the scope would have sat. 

The outfit did something to you, something that you couldn’t understand, and you filed that away for further thought at a later time – unable to think with the heat that settled low in your hips at his intimidating stature. “Stop it,” you muttered to yourself quietly, shaking your head once. “Get it together.”

Soldat turned towards you and you baulked at the glint in his eye – on an ordinary man, you would have described it as anger, or fury. On him, while in costume, it looked as though he had been possessed by the Devil himself. As he neared, he arched a brow in question, when you realised you were still staring. “Nothing, nothing,” you rushed, stepping back. 

“No. Move,” he ordered, gesturing for you to walk forward. 

Hesitantly, you stepped forward and started to walk, glancing over your shoulder at him. He continued to stare at you, then flicker his gaze to a passerby and flipping his knife. It sent a rush of power to your head to have someone as dangerous as him walk behind you – seemingly in a guarding disposition, but that went out the window when you felt a knife on your throat. 

“You did not think I would be that easy on you, little kotenok–hmm?” Soldat purred, his mask cold against your ear. Your breath hitched and you moved to pull away, but he snarled and grabbed your throat with his other hand. “Stay where I put you or you will regret it.”

“What-”

“Nyet. Quiet.” The crowds moved around you, staring transfixed as he manipulated you into standing against his chest, just like the first night. “I think my trophy deserves to be shown off. They need to know that you are mine.”

Fear pulsed through your body, confused with his words, you didn’t know what to expect, when cold, hard plastic covered your mouth. You furrowed your brow as he stepped back from you, then clipped something behind your head. “What–? Buck-”

Your hand moved to your mouth, and your eyes widened. A mask, identical to his own, covered the lower half of your face and it fit perfectly – not pinching or pulling at any point of contact or movement. “You gave me–?”

“My trophy,” he edged carefully, bringing the tip of his knife to your chin and tipping your head up. “Mine.”

The possessive behaviour made a thrill of arousal sing through your every nerve, and you gulped. “I do not think they would dare go after you now, my little kotenok. And, look at that,” he said, directing your face to the sky. The night had lightened and dawn had approached, much faster than you had anticipated. ��The final night has now fallen, and you belong to me–just as you should.”

You blinked owlishly, the cogs of your mind freezing and clunking into place. “Is this you- Are you-” The words were muffled by the mask over your mouth, but the glint in his eyes were as knowing as ever – vulnerable and open. 

He stepped closer so he was in your space, his breath coming in slow, deep pulls. Ever so quietly and out of character, Bucky asked, “Be my girl, kitten?”

The world fell away, the music, the screams – all of it fell to the background and became non-existent. You had hoped, after the night before, with how fast you had developed a connection with Bucky over those milkshakes, that this would happen. It felt reckless and otherworldly, saying yes to such a proposition in the middle of a haunted attraction to a scare actor dressed in costume.

But what was a little rebellious adventure?

You looked into Bucky’s eyes – not The Soldat’s, and smiled. “Hell fucking yes.”

nyet = no

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[brookheimer]

looking at the 'midseason trailer' and seeing roman fighting his siblings, roman shitting on gerri, roman working for fascists, roman walking proudly through ATN like logan did just two days prior... it's not surprising, but it is fucking sad.

logan's death will not free roman. instead, it will reforge the chains he's worn all his life, casting them in iron -- that's what roman deserves for thinking, for the first time in his life, that maybe he wants the chains off. that's what roman deserves for killing his father by not loving him enough, by not loving him correctly or at the right times. logan's death will not free roman at all. if anything, it will imprison him.

(as always, this got very long, so keep reading under the cut!)

this was the worst case scenario for roman. not just logan dying, but the exact way everything played out. he betrayed his siblings, he fired gerri -- for nothing. he could have been on the plane with his father in his last moments -- he refused. his last interaction with his father was leaving logan a voice message that called him a cunt -- the first time roman has ever, ever, questioned or stood up to his father, and also the last. we don't know what killed logan. we probably never will. but god if it won't feel awfully coincidental to roman: the one time he fought back against his father or even showed the slightest hint of doing so, his father died. is it likely that logan heard roman's voice memo and keeled over because he called him a cunt? no. but is it just as possible as anything else? entirely. roman might have killed his dad. roman murdered logan when he could've been on the plane with him holding his hand, if he were a good son. he didn't even tell logan he loved him. not that he needed to, it fucking oozed from his every pore and the desperate nature of that love was one of the reasons logan could never quite stand him -- but that's not the point. roman's one attempt at agency, at setting boundaries, at standing up for himself killed his fucking father.

logan dying would never have been good for roman, at least in his current state, no matter how the actual death came to pass. people often talk about abusive relationships as if the end-all-be-all fixer to abuse is independence, and it's not. independence isn't always enough to heal, especially not when it's forced upon you rather than something you choose. this is especially true for roman, i think. what roman needed was not just to gain his own independence, but to realize that independence and love are not mutually exclusive, that gaining one does not mean losing the other. logan's always hammered in roman's weakness, his wrongness; roman was never someone who deserved to be loved on his own terms. roman's never considered himself to be someone with agency and authority in his relationships -- he's been told over and over again that he isn't a real person, that there's something deeply wrong and unfixable in him, and he believes it. he's never set boundaries with his father or even his siblings because i don't think he really realizes he has the power to do that. he's simply there until people decide they no longer have use for him or want him around, and he'll always come crawling back after a kick because he doesn't realize he's not on a leash -- that he doesn't need to be on a leash. independence has been unreachable all his life, he isn't normal or real enough to be a real normal independent capable person, but if he grovels and shows his use enough, then maybe he can be loved. but his dependence and loyalty is all he's good for. independence means no love, no family, no relationships. and roman desperately wants, needs, those relationships in a way that none of the other characters do (or at least can admit to) -- he wants his father in his life, no matter what; he wants his siblings in his life, no matter what. but independence, being his own person, separating himself from logan's side means he'd lose everything else, everyone else. he's not good for anything anyways. it's not like he has other options.

...until the start of season four. that's why this is all so tragic -- more than anyone else, it seemed like roman was on the road to healing. it seemed like he was finally realizing that independence and love might not be as mutually exclusive as he's been made to think: maybe he could be independent while still having a relationship with his siblings and even his father. maybe he could have his cake and eat it too. he's realized that he's capable, that he has his own worth, and that he can be successful without living under logan's thumb -- and, more importantly, could still text him on his birthday and try to rebuild a relationship, this time outside of business. outside of "that room" in waystar royco. an actual fucking family relationship. that's what escaping the cycle would look like for roman — not complete separation, not a metaphorical killing of his father, but the ability to live alongside him, to have a life outside of him, to love his father without living for him. so simply removing logan from the equation wouldn’t help roman, not when what he needs most is to realize that self-respect is not mutually exclusive with love, that being your own person isn’t a betrayal, that family and love aren’t dependent on how low you can kneel and won’t be whisked away the moment you stand up. and for the first time in his life, it seemed like he was on track to discovering this. maybe he and the siblings could have the hundred, logan could keep going with atn, and in a few years down the line they'd all get together to talk shop and joke around and coexist -- for the first time, he had started to think of himself as enough of a real, okay person to be allowed to coexist with his family, rather than naturally subordinating himself in every interaction.

roman could’ve been his own person, could’ve escaped the cycle, could’ve started a business with his siblings and tried to heal, but now he won’t. he can’t. roman can’t become his own person now, not when his first attempt to do so is exactly what killed logan. it’s his fault. he fucked up and now there’s no dad. he gained his independence, but at what cost? love. that’s the cost. it always has been and always will be. nothing could be more detrimental to roman roy than the exact series of events that occurred in this episode, because just as he started to see a world beyond his father, logan dies -- proving once and for all that the only world beyond logan is one without him in it at all. that’s been roman’s fear all along and why he’s stuck so close to his side: roman loves and loves and loves and is terrified, terrified, of death. of loss. but in a moment of 'weakness,' roman wobbled (he tried to stand up to logan rather than just taking the kicks as he's supposed to, as he always has), and his father paid the ultimate price. there’s no more dad. there’s no reviving him.

…unless, of course, there is. unless roman can undo his error by choosing his father again, and again, and again. becoming logan is the closest roman can get to resurrecting him, after all. and besides, doesn’t he owe it to dad after killing him? after calling him a cunt, choosing not to be with him on that plane he ended up dying on? after forgetting to even say “i love you dad” before the end? roman needs to fix things. needs to make it like dad's still here. needs to make it like he didn't kill his own father by refusing him for the first time in his life. so roman will be the firebreather logan wanted -- he'll do ATN, he'll push for mencken, he'll do whatever it fucking takes to try and make things right. if it's his fault logan's no longer here, then he needs to do everything he possibly can to fulfill his dying wishes, to do what logan would've done, were he alive.

"dad can't die, he's dad." he can't ever die. he's immortal, and his immortality was solidified by the circumstances of his death -- logan will not die. he’ll live on in roman, as roman.

roman will make sure of it.

[padfootagain]

Forbidden Words

Here we go!!!!

We are officially back! I’m very excited for this new beginning, I hope you all enjoy this silly little fic of mine!

We have some hurt/comfort, lots of fluff and cuteness too! You know me, I always write cute things.

I hope you enjoy this fic, and I have to admit that I am quite nervous about posting fics again, so I’d really appreciate it if you could leave a little feedback… please? I hope I’m not too… rusty.

Anyways, enjoy!

****

Sum up : You've been dating Sirius for a while now, and it's been going wonderfully well. However, when you finally confess that you love him, he find himself unable to say it back. It will take time for him to be ready to say these three forbidden words out loud, but if there's someone who can make him overcome his inner demons, it's you.

Pairing : Sirius Black x reader

No warnings, hurt/comfort, fluff

Word count : 5800 words

Sometimes it felt a little strange. A little uncommon. A little worrying even.

There was something about unexpected events that always got under your skin, always made you uncomfortable. Even happy accidents could shake a world, and they generally did.

It felt a little strange sometimes, when you looked up to find Sirius sitting on the other side of the table. A little uncommon to find him holding your hand in corridors. A little worrying, even, to see him smile when you knew he was sad. You had learned after a long friendship to see the signs. Detect the small anomaly in his grey eyes, the ghost of a frown he tried to hide. If you could see the signs as a friend, you acted on it now that the two of you were more than that.

It was a happy accident that brought the two of you together. A note sent by a Ravenclaw to another girl that had landed on your desk by accident, and jealousy had done the rest.

But maybe it wasn't just an accident, after all, that pushed Sirius to confess that he liked you, that convinced him to ask you out. Maybe it was simply the last piece of a puzzle fitting with the rest of this long list of signs that should have shaken some sense into him. But whether or not Sirius's decision to ask you out was the result of an accident, it had shaken your world all the same.

A real earthquake that rearranged all the pieces of your life for the better.

And after a few months of relationship, you still had moments when you forgot you were together. Sometimes the brush of his fingers as you walked down a corridor still surprised you. The sight of him sleeping in your arms, the way he called you 'darling' with the softest voice, the way he kissed you out of the blue. As if you needed to be reminded that all this was not a mere dream. Maybe it was because it was all so familiar. Laughing, and talking for hours, and holding him close… it was natural. It felt right. Like you belonged there, with him.

And the more you thought about it, the more you reckoned that this was the true definition of the word everyone talks about but none can truly define. And you understood why. It was a feeling alright, but a feeling that got so entwined with a person, the two became synonyms. It was love. Love was the way Sirius made you feel, and Sirius was love.

You weren't even scared. You were just happy. You were happy it was him, even if the choice would have been unbelievable for a younger version of yourself. One of the famous pranksters? And the one who seemed almost grim, unreachable, with something about him as dark as his name… him?

As you stared at your boyfriend who was laughing at one of Lily's stupid jokes, you wondered why it took you so long to see the real Sirius behind all the rumours that ran across the Castle about him. But then, it wasn't so surprising. Sirius curated his friendships with great care and caution. He had to let you in first for you to discover him. And you were unbelievably glad he had once done so.

You realized then that despite the few months of your relationship passing in a dreamy bliss, none of you had ever said the three little words. You wondered why. Perhaps a part of you was waiting for him to say it first; the part of yourself that lacked confidence. It would explain why you had never spoken those words, even though you had been meaning them for weeks, months even. If you were to be honest about it, you were already in love when the two of you started dating.

And at the beginning you did doubt his feelings a lot. It was easier that way. If things had to go sour, it would be less painful if you expected a disaster in the first place. But by some strange kind of miracle, everything was fine. Outside of Hogwarts, the world was being turned upside-down, but your own little life was kept safe for a while longer. And Sirius was among the brightest suns to lighten the darkening sky.

So why not say it then?

You were aware of his tendency to bottle up all his emotions. The more you thought about it, the more you reckoned that he would not take this first step, even if he felt the same. And judging by the way he made you feel loved and cared for, you had no doubt that your feelings were mutual.

You reckoned it was time to take that jump.

You finished your lunch, laughing with your friends. James was being his ridiculous self, as usual, while Lily tried her best not to laugh too loudly at his antics, failing miserably. Remus and Peter were caught in a heated argument with Dorcas and Marlene about the best Honeydukes sweets, which ended in a ridiculously dramatic exit of the two girls. It was fun and warm and safe here. And all along Sirius's bark-like laugh made your moments even brighter.

After lunch, he accompanied you to your common room before heading to the Quidditch Pitch. The match opposing your two teams was coming up, it was an easy excuse for both of you to tease the other playfully.

"I can't believe you are cruel enough to support the Hufflepuff team when your own boyfriend is playing against them! Your boyfriend!"

"I'm a Hufflepuff. There is no such thing as friendships or love affairs when it comes to Quidditch."

"I feel betrayed."

"Drama queen."

He laughed at that, and you soon joined him. You couldn't help it. His laughter was too contagious.

"And now you insult me!"

"Only stating facts."

"So… does that mean you won't be happy if I win the game? Not even a little bit?"

You easily caved in as he offered you his most mischievous glance.

"Maybe a little bit…"

"Ha! See! Knew it. A traitor to your own house!"

Your joined laughter echoed through the corridors as you reached the door of the Hufflepuff common room.

"Practice well. Cause if you lose, I will tease you about it mercilessly for months," you warned him, and even though your tone was still humorous, he knew you were not truly joking.

"Better work extra hard then, ‘cause we can't have that."

He leaned down to kiss you, and you welcomed his lips halfway.

"I'll see you after dinner?"

"Your common room?"

He nodded, a grin on his face as he was about to turn around and leave.

But you held him back, crashing your lips together for another kiss. Because you were alone in this corridor and so you reckoned that this moment was as good as any to finally say it.

You gathered every last ounce of your courage while you held him tight, tucking your head in the crook of his neck. He chuckled, the vibrations of his laugh echoing in your whole body.

"Someone's extra needy today, huh?" he teased, although he held you with the same tender embrace.

You took a deep breath and dived. But your voice could only come out as a whisper.

"That's because I love you."

You waited for his answer. You waited. But only silence came.

At last, he dropped a kiss on the top of your head, and you thought he would say it back. But when he spoke again it was as if he hadn't heard you at all.

"Have to go to practice. I'll see you tonight."

And with that he strode away, and disappeared.

Sirius was pacing. He was holding a quaffle in his hands, making it twirl or holding it too tightly. He was pacing, back and forth across the boys’ dormitory while Remus, Peter and James looked at him with worried looks painted on their faces.

They knew what this was about. They knew the reason for his pacing, for the way he held the quaffle as if he wanted to crush it between his palms, for the tears that threatened to escape and for his ragged breathing.

He had told them about your confession. He had told them that he didn’t say a word.

And he was an idiot. A bloody idiot that was what he was. But he couldn’t help it, couldn’t fight it, couldn’t do anything at all about it. The mere thought of speaking out loud these three words made his throat tighten, his heart speed up enough to come close to exploding.

Oh, he could think about the words. He loved you. That was easy enough to admit to himself, but say it out loud? That was a whole other story.

And his friends knew perfectly why Sirius couldn’t speak, why he was on the verge of crying at the mere thought of it. The answer was obvious. But would you understand? You didn’t know him the way his friends did…

“I’m an idiot,” Sirius repeated for the hundredth time. “I’m… I don’t even know what I am at this point? But there’s no way I can say it back… I can’t do it!”

“Pads, you need to calm down,” James instructed his friend as he stood up to force Sirius to sit down on his bed.

“Calm down? How am I supposed to calm down? I’m fucking it all up! I finally have a great relationship, it’s all going brilliantly… It’s more than brilliant even! Bloody perfect! And then…”

He threw the quaffle against the wall in frustration.

He looked at the ball rolling on the ground for a moment, until it came to a stop. He heaved a sigh then, and buried his face in his hands.

“They really are going to just… ruin every single good thing in my life. Even when I finally think that I’m out of this mess…”

“Hey, don’t say that,” James rested a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

Remus and Peter walked to their friends to sit by their side on Sirius’s bed.

“You’re free now, Padfoot,” James reassured him. “You ran away from this hellish place. You have nothing left to do with them. It’s over. You have your own family now.”

“You have us,” Peter agreed.

“And you have Y/N. You should just… tell her about this,” Remus advised.

“Easier said than done,” Sirius mumbled, finally letting his hand fall to reveal his face again.

He was paler than usual, but there were no tears, or any sign of panic on his face.

“She loves you. She told you so! You should explain it all to her, I’m sure she would understand,” Peter encouraged his friend.

“How?”

“She knows already that your family sucks. Bastards, all of them,” spat James.

“She knows some of it, not all of it,” Sirius corrected him. “She knows I ran away because of the way they treated me, she knows I live with you now. But she doesn’t know what happened. She doesn’t know why I can’t say it back.”

“Then explain it to her. She’s sweet. And as Wormtail just said, she loves you. She’ll get it. As long as you explain it to her, show her that you care… she’ll understand.”

But Sirius was not convinced.

“I’m not sure I can explain it either. I haven’t talked about it in a while.”

Silence settled upon the room. Three friends looking for a way out, a defeated boy struggling against his old demons - the ones he had thought banished for good – sitting between them.

“What if you write it down?”

Sirius looked up at Remus, frowning but not rejecting the idea just yet.

“I don’t think I can write… it down either,” Sirius finally argued.

“But the reason why you can’t express it at all? Do you think you could answer that question on paper?”

Sirius contemplated the offer for a moment, before shrugging.

“I can try.”

“Maybe he simply didn’t hear me.”

Dorcas and Marlene exchanged an unconvinced glance, but didn’t dare to argue. They didn’t want to break your heart. And besides, they didn’t really understand either why Sirius had not said these three little words back. It was obvious that he was head over heels for you, no mystery there. So… why not say it back? If you had taken the first step, why not say that he felt the same, when he clearly did?

“Maybe I should try again.”

“Maybe he wasn’t ready?” Dorcas offered an explanation with all the caution she could muster. She didn’t want to make you suffer even more than you already did.

“You think so?” you asked with a shaky voice.

“Well… you know how Sirius can be sometimes,” Marlene added. “He does have a tendency to… bottle it all up. You know?”

“Yeah… that’s true.”

“His parents fucked up with his head. I think that… since then… he has a lot of trouble talking about his feelings.”

“But I thought he loved me…”

“Oh, he does,” Dorcas reassured you, and she couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. “He’s crazy about you.”

“Then why not say it? I don’t get it. He just… walked away.”

“That… was a mistake.”

“It was.”

“But there’s no need to be dramatic about this, you should simply talk about it with him.”

“You’re right,” you agreed, your voice firmer than before as you finally sat up on your bed and traded your sad eyes for an expression filled with determination. “I’m going to go see him. I’ll say I love him again, and this time, there will be no chance for him not to hear me. And if he doesn’t say anything again, I’ll ask him why.”

“That… was not exactly the plan we had come up with…”

“And I won’t cry!”

“That part is great! Keep that part of the plan! For the rest…”

“I’ll do it now!”

You stood up before your friends could stop you.

“Don’t you think you should wait for Lily to be back from her prefect meeting? I mean… she’s kind of the wise one in the group,” Dorcas argued, but you weren’t listening anymore.

No, instead, you were striding across your common room, and you opened the door wide to step in the corridor.

You were determined. A strong, independent and determined young woman. You could do it.

But you had barely reached the corner of the corridor that led to the magical staircase that you bumped right into Sirius…

“Ouch…” you mumbled, suddenly trapped in Sirius embrace.

“You’re okay?” he asked with a hint of worry in his voice.

“Yeah. You?”

“I play beater, remember?”

“You’ve got a point.”

You couldn’t refrain a smile, even if you were upset, and neither could he. You remained like this for a moment, standing still in the corridor while you stared at each other. A long moment passed, filled with silence and the way Sirius made butterflies gather in your stomach. He did so every time he was close, every time he stared at you like this… every time…

“I love you.”

You spoke them out loud again. The three words. Three marvellous, meaningful, forbidden words…

Sirius didn’t say anything, he merely closed his eyes with a pained expression painted all over his features.

You were ready to cry.

“So… you did hear me, earlier. The first time I said it, you did hear me.”

Slowly, in silence, Sirius nodded.

“You just don’t feel the same…”

He opened his eyes again, frowning hard.

“No… that’s not that at all.”

“But you’re not saying it back.”

“I know.”

“Because you’re not ready?”

He shook his head, clenching his jaw.

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“You want to break up with me?”

“What?!” he looked at you as if you had gone mad all of a sudden, and there was also a hint of fear in his grey eyes. “Of course I don’t want to break up with you, are you crazy?”

“I don’t get it then…”

He finally let go of you, reached for something in the back pocket of his trousers.

He handed you a folded piece of parchment, and you frowned at him. But you took the note anyway. Looking at it more closely, you noticed that it was a letter.

“I… I really struggle with… these things,” Sirius tried to explain everything, but the words stumbled from his mouth and came out all wrong and distorted and clumsily spoken. “So… thought I… could try to explain by writing it down. It was Moony’s idea, actually. Not sure it worked that well. But I… did my best, I guess…”

You made a movement to open the letter, but he stopped you before you could unfold the parchment.

“Wait, don’t… not… not while I’m here. You… you can read it on your own, I don’t want to see you read it. I’ll be in the Gryffindor common room. I’ll wait for you. You… you read this, and you take some time to think. I’ll wait. All night long, if you need it.”

Before you could protest, he had turned around and was disappearing again.

You spent a long time on your own. You had hidden yourself in your favourite spot, a small gap between a statue and the wall of an alcove on the third floor. You could be alone there, no one could see you from the corridor. Only Sirius knew about that hiding spot, and you didn’t want to be disturbed. You needed to think. You needed some time to assimilate all the information Sirius had entrusted in you.

He didn’t go into details. You reckoned he never would. You had understood a long time ago that his parents had done terrible things to him. That his life at Grimmauld Place was hell. But he had revealed, through this letter, a few glimpses into his childhood, and you didn’t know what to do with it all. What to do with the knowledge of so much undeserved pain?

It explained why he didn’t speak out the words you longed to hear though. Why these three little words were banished from his mouth, if not from his heart. Why he couldn’t gather the strength to explain it all in person. You understood, or well… you didn’t understand what he had been through, but you could fathom why he carried the struggles and pain he kept carefully hidden.

No details in this letter of his, mere fragments in an attempt to explain it all, to make you understand, even if just a little bit. He was scared to lose you. The feeling oozed from every line traced in dark ink, appeared behind every word.

The final explanation was enough to sum it all up.

They never said these words to me, and I’ve never told them to anyone either. Worst, they changed the meaning of these words I longed to hear to make them feel like pain.

I can’t say it. I can’t write it down. It needs to fully change back into its original meaning first. But I do care. I do want to be with you. I just… can’t express it right.

You brushed a tear before it would escape your eye as you read the last words of his letter one more time.

Forgive me.

You shook your head, before standing up, and finally walking down the corridor towards the Gryffindor tower.

What a silly boy he was, sometimes…

Sirius had remained awake most of the night. He thought at first that he wouldn’t be able to sleep at all, but then exhaustion caught up with him. He did go to Quidditch practice for over two hours after all. That, and the emotional tiredness that day had brought him… it weighed too much on him to stay up all night. He fell in Morpheus’ arms around midnight, without noticing.

When you walked in the room, he was there. None of you had gone to eat dinner in the Great Hall, you could see the half-full plate the boys must have brought up for Sirius while he waited for you. You felt bad for taking so much time to think.

He seemed peaceful when he slept. Long dark hair a mess, half-hiding his face. Breathing soft, gentle, steady. Eyelashes drawing two dark lines above sharp cheekbones.

You loved him. It was enough.

You picked up a blanket from one of the armchairs along with a cushion. You lifted his head with caution, trying not to wake him up as you put the cushion under him to get him more comfortable. You covered him with the blanket to keep him warm. You didn’t have the heart to wake him up.

You brushed away from his eyes a few strands of hair, gesture tender and gentle, before dropping a kiss to his cheek and turning to leave.

You were stopped before you could take a step towards the door, fingers wrapping around yours.

When you turned back towards Sirius, he was rubbing his eyes, trying to chase away the remnants of sleep that lingered there.

“Don’t go,” he mumbled, his voice made rough and deep by sleep. “Have you read the letter?”

“Yes, I did.”

He sat up, moving so you could sit by his side on the couch.

“Are you mad?” he asked, his voice shaky.

But you rested your head on his shoulder, and he felt reassured all of a sudden.

“Of course not. I’m not mad at all. I mean… not at you. I think I could commit a murder though. Several, actually.”

He chuckled, wrapping his arm around you to pull you close, and you melted in his embrace.

“That’s… kind of hot. Not gonna lie.”

It was your time to laugh.

“I thought you would be mad,” he admitted after a short silence.

“Of course not. It’s okay. Nothing to forgive. I understand. I’ll wait. All the time you need. And if you never feel ready, that’s okay too. I know I’m not the problem, it’s them.”

“I feel like… like I’m failing you.”

“Of course not. Don’t feel like that, okay?”

“You should be able to hear it…”

“It’s okay. Now that I know, I don’t mind at all. I promise.”

He leaned down to kiss you, and you welcomed his lips with relief. Things were back to normal again.

“Can I ask you one more question?”

Sirius gave you a warm smile, and merely nodded as an answer. He brushed his knuckles across your cheek in a tender gesture.

“You said that… they have never told you they loved you… is it true?”

“I mean… They don’t. Love me. Why would they lie?”

“Right…”

“It’s okay. I’m glad you’re the first to speak these words to me.”

“I’m the first? Ever?”

“To really mean it? Yeah… you’re the first.”

“But James…”

“The boys are my family, but we don’t confess our undying love towards each other on a daily basis, and certainly not so… plainly.”

You played with the collar of his white shirt. His tie was long gone, his sleeves rolled up along his forearms, the first few buttons of his shirt undone.

“Do you mind if I say it again, every once in a while?” you asked after some time.

“I won’t be able to say it back. Not for now.”

“I get it. That’s okay.”

“Then… if you don’t mind that I can’t say it back… Of course, I don’t mind. It’s a nice thing to hear. The best thing, actually.”

The two of you exchanged a smile, and you lost your gaze to the flames dancing in the hearth before you while Sirius dropped a kiss to your forehead.

Yes, things were back to normal.

And you loved him. It was enough.

A few more months passed; it was the beginning of Spring. Or rather, the end of Winter.

Snow had melted, the grass was green and muddied by the heavy rains. Skies grey and trees covered in boughs. It was the beginning of a new cycle filled with life. Soon, it would be warm enough to spend afternoons on the grounds, help Hagrid with his garden, wonder through the woods where it was forbidden to go.

But for now, the sky was grey still, a rainy afternoon during which the droplets fell with a rhythmic pattern against the windowpanes. You studied hard with your friends, even though Sirius and James were less and less focused as the afternoon passed by.

It was that afternoon that something finally clicked in your brain, and you realized what had been right before you for a long, long time.

You had to refill your bottle of ink, but were too lazy to get up and walk all the way across the Gryffindor common room to get your bag. You were too comfortable sitting there, legs crossed on the warm carpet before the fire, your back resting against Sirius’s arm.

You turned your head to check how much ink was left in your bottle, but frowned at the sight.

The bottle was full.

You looked around, spotted an empty bottle next to Sirius’s bag. He had replaced your bottle with one of his own. You smiled at the sight, ready to discard the act as a cute attention from your boyfriend when you realized that Sirius had not said a word about it.

He had replaced the bottle in silence, as if he expected you wouldn’t notice. And the more you thought about it, the more you could think of many occurrences of these sweet attentions. Little acts of care and kindness he performed without having you asking for it, without bringing it up, almost hoping you wouldn’t notice it at all.

Like… the way he always carried the heavy piles of books you burrowed on a weekly basis to the library. The way he brought you your favourite cookie every Wednesday after your arithmancy class because you had a long afternoon that day and he knew you were craving for sugar after so many classes. The way he picked up your scarf and folded it back into your bag whenever you forgot it, which happened very often. The way he handed you one of his hairbands when you were nervous and started fidgeting. The way he gave you extra chips at lunch because he knew how much you loved these. The way he…

… the way he loved you.

As you stared at this ordinary bottle of ink, all the pieces suddenly started to fit together.

He loved you. Truly. He couldn’t say it, but he showed it instead. He had always done so, for months. You should have understood it before…

When the bottle of ink was empty, Sirius almost threw it away, but you stopped him, filling it again instead with some new ink. Your boyfriend raised a surprised eyebrow.

“If you want to reuse the same bottle each time from now on, you need to buy a proper one at least…”

“No, I keep this one.”

“It’s… just a bottle. Why would you keep this one?”

“Because you gave it to me.”

He chuckled mockingly, shaking his head.

“You’re mad.”

But as he turned around, faking to look for something in his bag, you did notice the tip of his ears turning red…

You were both drunk, but Sirius was drunk. You… you had just overcome the stage of tipsiness, but were not full-blown drunk yet. Sirius was though.

Nothing surprising. The last match of the season was over. Gryffindor 190 – Slytherin 60. A celebration was in order, and the Marauders were not ones to fail their reputation, especially when it came to celebrating winning the Quidditch cup.

It had been a fun evening, but it was time to call it a night. At least, it was for you. Many of your friends were still celebrating in the common room, but you pulled Sirius up to his feet and helped him up the stairs to his dormitory despite his protests.

“You’re very drunk, that’s enough,” you admonished.

He tried to argue, but you pushed him down on his bed. He groaned, making you laugh.

“You’re evil.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Very much so, I’ll admit…”

Alcohol made his words slow and slurred. His voice was deeper too, which made you blush uncontrollably. Luckily, Sirius was too drunk to notice your reaction and tease you about it.

“Come on, you need a good night of sleep,” you admonished. “I’ll see you tomorrow, if you’re sober enough to get up on your own again by then.”

But he stopped you as you walked towards the door.

“No! Stay! I’m not even sleepy.”

“You can’t even keep your eyes properly opened.”

“I can! I don’t want you to go. Stay. Stay for the night.”

“Babe… that’s against the rules.”

“Who caaaaaares?” he whined, and you could hear in his voice that he was rolling his eyes.

“You’re drunk. Nothing is going to happen tonight.”

“I mean… I wanted cuddles, but if you want more… I’m all for it.”

You laughed, but complied anyway. You always caved in, after all.

“Alright, just cuddles. Move over.”

He grinned up at you and soon you were lying with him, holding him close. He soon closed his eyes.

When he spoke, his voice was a mere whisper, already half drowned in sleep and slowed down by the liquor.

“You know… I can’t say it but… I do feel like that. I feel the same. I feel like that for you. Like… a lot. An awful lot.”

You didn’t need any more explanation to know perfectly well what Sirius meant, what he was talking about. You smiled the brightest of smiles.

“I love you too, Sirius.”

But he had already drifted to sleep…

It was your last evening at Hogwarts.

The NEWTs were over, the year had gone by too quickly. It was the beginning of Summer. Or rather, the end of Spring.

Clouds had lifted, the grass was green and dry and soft, just the way you loved it. Flowers grew over slopes and bushes and trees had found back their glorious shades of green.

It was a happy season, with sunlight and laughter. But it was coming to an end.

You would not be back at Hogwarts. It was your last day. And you felt sad about it. The next day, you would carry your suitcase for the last time to the train station, and take the Hogwarts Express never to come back home.

But rather than to spend your last day being depressed, your friends had planned a series of festivities and games to make sure that your last memories in the Castle would be worth remembering. And they succeeded. None of you would ever forget this day. Pranks rained over the Castle, last gifts from the infamous Marauders. Parties, and games all afternoon. So much laughter, enough to fill up entire rooms.

It had been magical, and you were thankful to have encountered such a happy mess of people during your stay in this school.

Outside, the world was dangerous and uncertain and dark. But you had been granted one last day under the sun, and you reckoned that it was enough for now. It would be enough to get by for a while; for as long as you needed to endure to see the sun shine brightly again.

Dinner was over, and you were taking a walk with Sirius across the grounds. It was past curfew, but you weren’t worried about being caught. You doubted any teacher would tell you anything, let alone punish you on your last evening.

You sat down together by the shores of the quiet lake. Above your heads, the night sky wore stars by the hundreds, the thousands even. You could guess the purple shades of the Milky Way far above. There was no moon, but there were so many stars shining that night that it didn’t really matter.

Sirius stared at you while you watched the sky, the two of you wrapped in a comfortable silence; this intimate kind of quiet that made him feel safe and warm. He stared at you, with your head thrown back to look up at the shining lights, and the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

He wished he could stop time for a while, so he could keep on admiring you like this. A simple moment that made his heart swell like never before.

You had a talent, really, to make the world brighter. A real earthquake that had reorganized his life for the better. You had shaken all his boundaries, all the darkest parts of his mind, to shade a bright hope on his life. One day, he would heal. He believed in that now. He had started to believe he could escape his family when he found his brothers. Then he found you, and you promised him something that even his best friends could not have granted him: hope for peace and quiet.

He smiled at the thought. Most people would not think of peace and quiet when thinking about his plans after Hogwarts. Joining the fight against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Buy that motorcycle he had been dreaming about for months. And build a home with you that he would fill with his leather jackets, his rock music and his bark-like laughter.

It would be quiet though. In his mind and heart, it would be peaceful, like never before. Because he would move in with you, in this apartment you had already found together, and it would be a home. A brand-new home, just for the two of you, where your friends – your family – would always be welcome. A home with you.

He was sad to leave Hogwarts and all the wonderful memories he had gathered along the years, but he was excited too. It was a brand-new chapter in a book he would keep on writing with you. And it felt right. Like he belonged wherever you were.

And the more he thought about it, the more he reckoned that this was the true definition of the word everyone talks about but none can truly define. And he understood why. It was a feeling alright, but a feeling that got so entwined with a person, the two became synonyms. It was love. Love was the way you made him feel, and you were love.

When the words finally formed on his tongue, he found that he was ready. You had rewritten their meaning.

“I love you, Y/N.”

[moraxine]

Echoes of The Heart [V]

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader // geto suguru x fem!reader

genre: angst, SHITTY SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER, you've been warned.

words: 5.3k

summary: having Gojo Satoru as a roommate comes with a weekly price. And while your best friend is busy fucking random people almost every Friday night, this time you find yourself at a nearby bar, where you meet a mysterious man, Suguru, that has his ways of entering your heart.

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

The night felt strangely long and restless. You lay on the comfortable bed that Suguru had so generously offered, your mind swirling with a mixture of emotions. The room, though unfamiliar, provided an odd sense of comfort. The events of the day had left your mind racing, and sleep seemed to elude you. As the hours passed, you found yourself lost in your thoughts, contemplating the future and trying to make sense of the choices and events that had led you here.

The constant stream of desperate messages and calls from Gojo only served to intensify your inner turmoil. Each notification was a reminder of the previous events which had come to haunt your clouded mind. You couldn't help but feel torn, torn between the past you knew and the uncertain future you now had to face.

The weight of the situation bore down on you throughout the night. Tossing and turning in the unfamiliar bed, you couldn't shake the profound sense of betrayal. It was hard to fathom that Gojo, your closest friend for so many years, had seemingly replaced your bond with someone he had just met.

And yes, it wasn't the same type of bond, but it stung, hard.

The ache in your chest was a constant reminder of the hurt you were grappling with. Sleep remained an unreachable goal, your mind replaying moments of laughter, shared secrets, and the deep connection you had once held. This new reality felt surreal, and you couldn't help but wonder how things had unraveled so quickly and taken a turn for the absolute worst.

Tears stained your cheeks, tracing salty tracks down your face as your eyes burned from exhaustion.

It all felt like an unfair punishment, like a torment without a purpose. You and Gojo had both handled the situation selfishly, in an attempt to bury your true feelings away from each other. If you had been honest from the very beginning, none of this would have happened.

The weight of the situation pressed heavily on your chest, making it hard to breathe. Each passing minute felt like an eternity, and the ache in your heart seemed unbearable.

You longed for the solace of sleep, for even a moment of respite from the pain that gnawed at your soul. Yet, despite your debility, sleep remained elusive, abandoning you completely in the quiet, lonely hours of the night.

In the midst of this mental storm, you found a glimmer of consolation in Suguru's kindness. His open-hearted acceptance had been a lifeline in your time of need. Gratitude swelled within you, a warm ember that brought a faint smile to your lips. It was a small comfort, but one you clung to tightly.

In Suguru, you had found a friend, or perhaps something more than a friend, someone who was willing to offer support without question or judgment. It was something you would not soon forget, as it held a special place within you.

When you arrived outside his house, Suguru almost ran to you, his warm embrace becoming a sanctuary, a haven of comfort in the destruction. His arms wrapped around you tightly, offering a sense of security you desperately needed.

The tender kiss he had placed on your forehead was a soothing balm, a gesture of reassurance that brought a flicker of hope to your weary heart. A glimmer of belief sparked within you – the belief that, in time, the pain would ease and the pieces of your life would find their way back together. In that moment, you found strength in Suguru's support, and even though it was odd to feel so safe in the arms of someone you barely knew, you decided to give in.

Throughout the day, Suguru's presence provided a much-needed anchor for you. His decision to skip his meetings just to stand by your side spoke volumes about his genuine concern and care. The daylight offered a reprieve from the suffocating weight and in Suguru's company, you found a sense of stability.

You shared moments of quiet understanding, allowing you the space to process your emotions without judgment or rush. It was a small respite, but one that you clung to tightly, grateful for the unwavering support you had found in Suguru.

However, as night fell and he wished you a good night, your heart sank back at the bottom, making it unable to breathe freely. Being left alone with your thoughts was a living nightmare, a reality you couldn't escape as you got flooded by guilt.

Coming to terms with the fact that you wouldn't be sleeping tonight, you rised from the bed, making your way downstairs.

The gentle creak of the floorboards seemed to echo in the quiet house as you made your way down to the kitchen. The soft glow of the moon filtered through the curtains, casting a serene aura over the room.

In the quiet hush of the night, you took care to move with gentle grace, mindful of not disturbing the stillness that enveloped Suguru's home. Your fingers brushed away the remnants of tears, a quiet determination in your movements.

The need for silence hung in the air, a shared understanding between you and the peaceful slumber that surrounded you. Each breath was deliberate, a conscious effort to regain composure in the stillness of the night.

The cool tile beneath your feet offered a welcome contrast to the turmoil still swirling within you. As you reached for a glass, the water provided a moment of clarity, washing away some of the lingering heaviness.The steady flow of water into the glass provided a comforting rhythm, a simple act that brought a measure of tranquility to the moment.

The cool liquid sparkled in the soft light, a small oasis of calm in the midst of turmoil. As you raised the glass to your lips, the water offered a refreshing respite, washing away some of the weariness that clung to you. Each sip was a small act of self-care, a reminder that even in heartache, you still mattered.

"No sleep, huh?"

Suguru's unexpected presence behind you sent a shiver down your spine, nearly causing the glass to slip from your grasp. As you turned to face him, a bittersweet smile graced your lips, the weariness in your eyes mirrored in your expression.

His concern was apparent, a comforting reminder that you weren't alone in your struggle. With a soft sigh, you admitted to your restless night, finding solace in the fact that you could share this moment of vulnerability with someone who genuinely cared.

Your voice held a gentle curiosity as you inquired, "Couldn't sleep, either?"

You noticed the slight wrinkle in Suguru's attire, a telltale sign that he hadn't simply been tossing and turning in bed. He met your gaze with a playful glint in his eyes, deflecting with a wry grin,

"Sort of. Something came up and I had to go. Was busy with some late-night superhero duties." The humor in his response was a deliberate diversion, a way to shield the underlying truth. Yet, you couldn't help but notice the subtle signs that Suguru had been out, a silent acknowledgment between you that some things were better left unspoken for now.

Suguru's gaze held a mix of concern and understanding as he gently inquired,

"Is it because you don't feel at ease here? What can I do to make you feel more comfortable?" You met his gaze with a grateful smile, shaking your head ever so slightly. "No, not at all. Your hospitality has been more than I could have asked for, Suguru," you assured him, your voice carrying genuine appreciation.

"I just don't want to impose on you for too long and overstay my welcome, that's all. I need to find a place of my own at last, anyway."

It was a testament to your independence and consideration for others, a reflection of the strong, caring person you were. You realized that maybe things would have been different if you and Gojo had parted ways after your studies. Better different or worse different, you didn't really know.

Suguru's smile was warm, a reassuring beacon in the quiet of the night. He stepped closer, his presence comforting. "You're not imposing, y/n. You're welcome here for as long as you need. Besides," he admitted with a hint of vulnerability, "it does get rather lonely in here sometimes." His candidness was a small window into the depths of his character, an invitation to trust in the safety of now shared space.

As Suguru closed the distance between you, the room seemed to shrink, narrowing down to just the two of you. His presence was an intoxicating blend of confidence and desire. With every step, he exuded a magnetic pull, drawing you in like a moth to a flame.

As he reached you, he gently but firmly backed you up against the smooth surface of the counter. The cold edge pressed against your back, a stark contrast to the warmth that radiated from Suguru's proximity. You could feel his breath, warm and steady, mingling with your own, creating a heady, intimate connection.

Your eyes locked, a silent understanding passing between you. In that moment, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the charged atmosphere. Suguru's presence was both reassuring and electrifying, promising a depth of an interaction that left you breathless with anticipation. It was a dance of desire, an unspoken agreement that you were both willingly surrendering to the pull you felt.

Suguru's proximity sent a subtle jolt of impatience through you. His touch was both gentle and firm as he relieved you of the glass, setting it down with deliberate care.

The unspoken tension in the air hung thick, an undeniable energy that seemed to hum between you. In the quiet of the kitchen, your closeness spoke volumes, a silent understanding that transcended words.

"Th-thank you for everything." You managed to speak out, feeling your cheeks burning up.

In that intimate space, Suguru's presence loomed large, a protective force that enveloped you. Your touch was tender, fingers tracing the contours of his cheek, a silent reassurance that conveyed a depth of emotion words could not capture.

Your eyes locked, the unspoken understanding between you speaking volumes. In that suspended moment, time seemed to hold its breath, leaving only the soft exchange of touch and gaze to bridge the distance between you.

Suguru's smile held a warmth that reached his eyes, genuine and kind. "You don't have to thank me, y/n. I've told you already, you're always welcome here," he reassured you gently.

As if guided by an unspoken force, he added, "There's only just one tiny thing I'd like in return. If you're willing, of course." His voice held a quiet sincerity, leaving the space open for your response.

As he leaned in, the air seemed to hold its breath, the moment steeped in a quiet intensity.

As soon as his eyes rested on your mouth, you knew exactly what he wanted. Your nod was a subtle agreement, your heart pounding in your chest.

To hell with it.

Your lips met in a soft, gentle exchange that spoke of a budding connection, a promise of something more. The kiss was tender, a shared understanding that transcended words. In that fleeting touch, a new chapter seemed to unfurl, which you were about to read.

A smile played on Suguru's lips as he murmured, "I missed your taste." His words held a hint of warmth and affection, a testament to the connection that was beginning to form between you. It was a simple admission, yet it carried a weight of sincerity that spoke volumes.

Your gazes locked, and the world around you seemed to fade into the background.

You couldn't ignore the magnetic pull any longer. You decided to leave everything behind for a few mere moments and just surrender to the desire that was burning your whole body.

If Gojo could do anything he wanted, so could you.

With a tender determination, you closed the distance between you once and for all, your lips finding his in a hungry kiss. It was a moment of shared proof that you were longing and anticipating his touch ever since that night.

Your kiss deepened, an unspoken understanding passing between you. Suguru's arms enveloped you, effortlessly lifting you onto the counter. Your smile, though hidden by your locked lips, radiated through the tender embrace. Your hands found solace in his long hair, fingers gently intertwining in the dark strands. The world seemed to stand still, allowing you this stolen moment of intimacy.

His lips were soft, so very soft. You swore you could spend a whole lifetime exploring them.

You wrapped your legs around his waist as his hands roamed over your body, sliding under your t-shirt to cup your breasts. He nibbled on your neck and shoulders, making you gasp in pleasure.

Blurred vision and a blurred mind. Blurred memories and blurred decisions. Right or wrong, your body wanted more, unable to hold back. Suguru's touch burned your skin with anticipation for something more, something that you never thought you'd do so soon. And yet, you were craving it, you were craving for Geto.

"I know you said you want to take your time with me, but I don't think I can wait."

Suguru only smirked at your words and grabbed your hips, pulling you closer to him. He ground against you, causing you both to moan in delight. Your hands slid down his back, feeling the muscles tense under your fingertips.

As you unzipped his pants, Suguru broke the kiss and looked at you with a mix of surprise and excitement. He let out a groan as he felt your hand wrap around his erection, stroking him slowly under his boxers.

"In a hurry, aren't we?" He breathed out, earning an exasperated sigh from you.

"Does it matter? Just fuck me already."

Suguru's eyes lit up at your demanding words and he nodded mischievously, slapping your hand away from his member. He positioned himself better between your legs, making sure his underwear was down before aggressively pulling your shorts and panties too to rub the head of his dick against your wet entrance.

There it was, your chance to experience something that would help cease the never ending negative thoughts, a way to focus on the present moment and enjoy this the way you deserve to.

You didn't know if it meant or would later mean something to Geto, and to be honest, you didn't really care. He seemed to crave you as much as you did and no matter what, he was an easy going man who was willing to listen. Communication with him was effortless, so, whatever the case, you were sure he would understand.

Yeah, he would definitely understand how wet you were for him.

You let out a gasp as he finally pushed inside you with a slow move, filling you up completely.

Suguru grunted in pleasure as he began to thrust in and out of you, his movements becoming more urgent after a while. You wrapped your arms around his neck, enjoying the sensation that you missed for quite a while. You pushed back against him, meeting his every thrust with one of your own. The both of you are moaning in pleasure, the room filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin.

"Fuck, you feel so fucking good."

"Yeah?"

Suguru's pace picked up at your words, his thrusts becoming harder and more forceful. You cried out in pleasure as your body is rocked by his movements, feeling every inch of him deep inside you.

This was something else. This was everything you needed. Your attraction to Geto from the very first moment you met him was undeniable. However, if you told yourself from three days ago that you would be getting your guts rearranged in his house, she most probably wouldn't believe it.

Lost as you were in the pace he'd set, Suguru pulled out of you. He quickly grabbed you and put you down, forcing you to stand on your shaking legs.

"Turn around."

As you bent over the kitchen counter, Suguru moved behind you, his erection pressing against your entrance. He grabbed your hips and thrust inside, making you scream out in pleasure.

He slapped your ass and pulled you towards him, his thrusts becoming even deeper and more intense. You felt yourself getting closer to the edge as he continued to pound into you, your moans filling the small kitchen.

"Is this what you wanted? Me to let you in my house so you can get dick?"

As you put your hand in your mouth to muffle your moans, Suguru reached around and squeezed your breasts, causing you to gasp in pleasure. He leaned in and kissed your neck, his teeth grazing your skin.

Suguru looked at you with burning eyes and thrust faster into you, the pace almost frantic as he desperately tried to drive you over the edge. Your body went lax as you eventually got pushed over this edge, screaming out as you came hard, the intense pleasure making you feel slightly ill.

His thrusts became erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as he reached his own climax. You felt him release inside of you, his warm cum mixing with your juices as you both collapsed against the counter, spent and breathless.

It took you a great while to come down from the high, the echoes of Suguru's moans still echoing in your head.

"Holy shit," You muttered as you managed to stand, turning to face him.

Suguru chuckled softly, his voice low and teasing. "Well, it seems we found a solution to your insomnia. You're lucky I'm such a considerate host."

His playful tone carried a warmth that matched the intimacy you'd just shared. You could feel the genuine care in his words, a subtle reminder that you were safe in his presence.

~

You rose with the morning sun, a newfound sense of tranquility wrapping around you. You quickly dressed for work, the events of the past days lingering in your mind. As she descended  the stairs once again, the absence of Suguru was notable. The house, once a refuge, felt completely empty without his presence. Even though he had informed you that he would be leaving early, you still caught yourself getting disappointed.

As you grabbed your stuff for work, a mix of anticipation and trepidation built within you and with a last glance around, you stepped out, ready to face the day ahead.

As much as you tried to restrain the negative thoughts, you realized that a night with Geto didn't fix the issue. If anything, it made it worse.

Nanami noticed the weight in your expression as soon as you walked in. Concerned, he approached you, his usually stern demeanor softening. "Is everything alright?" he inquired, his voice filled with genuine concern. You took a deep breath, the events of the past days swirling in your mind. "Shit happened," you admitted, your voice a mixture of weariness and resolve.

Nanami listened attentively as you recounted the tumultuous events with Gojo and your unexpected refuge at Geto's. His steady gaze never wavered, his face a portrait of thoughtful consideration.

When you finished, he nodded, absorbing the weight of your words. "That's fucking annoying," he said sincerely, his tone empathetic.

Nanami's usually composed demeanor wavered for a moment, replaced by a flash of frustration. "I've seen my fair share of immature behavior, but Gojo takes it to a whole new level," he remarked, his tone tinged with exasperation.

"You deserve better than this, obviously." His words carried a weight of sincerity, a clear reflection of his concern for her well-being.

Nanami's eyes held a flicker of genuine curiosity. "And this other guy, Suguru, right? What's your take on him?" He inquired, his tone gentle yet inquisitive. "Do you think there's potential there?"

You took a moment to think before responding.

Potential.

Was there any?

The night you met, yes, without a shadow of a doubt.

Since yesterday, you weren't sure anymore.

"Suguru is different, and I can't deny that there's something between us. But everything is so complicated right now with Gojo and... well, I don't even know where this is going. It's all so fucking confusing to me." Your voice conveyed a mix of uncertainty and longing as you discussed her feelings for Suguru with Nanami.

"I think you and Gojo living together for so long has complicated things."

You nodded, your expression reflecting the truth in Nanami's words. "Maybe... Maybe you're right. I've known Gojo for so long, and seeing him change like this... It's just hard to process. And Suguru, he's been so kind and understanding. I don't want to lose either of them, but it feels like I'm being pushed in a corner, like I have to choose." Your voice wavered with emotion, torn between your feelings for both men.

Nanami looked at you with a firm, yet compassionate gaze. "y/n, you've got to figure this out. It's not fair to you, and it's not fair to them. This situation can't go on forever. Take some time for yourself, think about what you really want, and then make a decision. It's not going to be easy, but it's necessary. You got pissed at Gojo for what you did a couple hours later. Get your shit together before it's too late, that's what I think." His words held a weight of wisdom, urging you to confront you emotions and make a choice.

As the day wore on, a sense of tranquility settled over the café. The gentle hum of conversation and the comforting aroma of brewed coffee created an atmosphere of solace.

You found yourself engrossed in the back room, meticulously crafting each drink with care. Meanwhile, Nanami manned the front, his composed demeanor and precise movements a testament to his years of experience.

Customers flowed in and out, their laughter and chatter intermingling with the subtle notes of background music. The soft clinking of cups and the occasional whirr of the espresso machine provided a rhythmic backdrop to the day's proceedings.

In this harmonious blend of activity, there was a palpable sense of order and purpose, a testament to the dedication of those who took pride in their craft. The hours slipped by, marked by the interplay of tasks and the camaraderie among colleagues who operated with a synchronized efficiency.

Nanami glanced up from the counter, his gaze catching on Gojo as he approached the café. Gojo's demeanor was uncharacteristically subdued, hands tucked casually into the pockets of his jeans, head slightly bowed. It was a posture that suggested a certain contemplation, an unusual departure from his typically confident stride.

And you, stationed in the back room, caught sight of Gojo's arrival through a strategically positioned mirror. A mixture of trepidation and urgency flickered in your eyes.

You approached Nanami with a plea, your voice low and urgent. You implored him to act as if you weren't present, to offer a temporary sanctuary in the back room while Gojo made his way inside. You weren't ready to face him yet, not at all.

Nanami nodded in understanding, recognizing the gravity of the situation. He discreetly gestured towards the back room, a silent signal for you to take refuge until you felt ready for the impending encounter.

As Gojo entered, Nanami maintained his professionalism, poised to ensure the seamless continuation of operations even amidst this delicate moment.

Gojo pushed open the café door with a subdued air, the familiar chime announcing his entrance. He offered a nod of acknowledgment to Nanami, who was stationed near the counter. "Hey, haven't seen you in a while," Nanami remarked, a hint of dry humor lacing his words.

Gojo's lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, been busy," he replied, his tone guarded. The exchange held a subtle tension, an unspoken weight lingering in the air.

Nanami couldn't resist a sardonic chuckle. "Busy, huh? Must be really draining too." he commented, his gaze sharp but pointedly avoiding any direct confrontation.

Gojo's jaw tightened briefly, a flash of irritation crossing his features. "Look, I'm not here to listen to your bullshit," he asserted, his voice carrying a note of weary exasperation. "I'm looking for y/n."

Gojo's voice held a tinge of urgency, his eyes scanning the café as if hoping you'd magically appear.

Nanami, though, maintained his stoic expression. "Took the day off," he replied evenly, not offering any more information than necessary.

Gojo's brows furrowed, suspicion etching his features. "You sure about that?" he asked, his tone edged with a trace of impatience.

Nanami met Gojo's gaze with steady resolve. "Yeah. Needed some time to clear her head, you know why." he remarked, keeping his tone nonchalant.

A ripple of irritation passed over Gojo's face, his patience wearing thin. "Do you know where she went?" he pressed, his voice firmer now, a note of urgency creeping in.

Nanami's gaze held Gojo's without wavering. "No, she didn't say," he stated plainly, giving no indication of whether he was withholding information or genuinely unaware.

The tension in the air was evident, a silent standoff between the two men. Gojo's frustration simmered just beneath the surface, his concern for you driving his urgency. Nanami, on the other hand, remained an immovable force, unwilling to yield more than he deemed necessary.

The café seemed to hold its breath, awaiting the resolution of this terse exchange. The fate of the unfolding situation hinged on the next move, and neither man seemed inclined to back down.

As the tension thickened, Gojo's patience snapped like a taut wire. He leaned in, fingers coiling around the collar of Nanami's shirt, his voice seething with restrained fury. "I know you're not telling me everything," he hissed, eyes flashing with determination.

Nanami, however, didn't flinch. He met Gojo's gaze evenly, his own expression unwavering. "You can play tough all you want, but it won't work with me," he retorted, a hint of defiance lacing his words. "If you're trying to intimidate someone, go do it somewhere else."

The café seemed to hold its breath, the tension in the air reaching a boiling point. Gojo's grip tightened, but Nanami's resolve remained steadfast. He refused to be cowed by Gojo's aggression.

"If you care about her so much, respect her and give her the space she needs. She doesn't need you barging in her workplace and causing more chaos."

The standoff between the two men was palpable, the weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions hanging heavy in the air. Your fate seemed to hang in the balance, dependent on the outcome of this tense exchange. Each word and gesture held the potential to shift the course of events, and neither man showed any sign of yielding.

As the tension in the café began to dissipate, Gojo slowly released his grip on Nanami's collar. He took a step back, his face still etched with frustration, but a glimmer of regret in his eyes.

"Tell y/n that I want her to come home," Gojo's voice was calmer now, tinged with a plea. "We have to sort things out like adults. I... I just want to make things right."

Nanami regarded him for a moment, his own expression softening. He nodded in agreement. "If I see her, I'll let her know."

From your hiding spot in the back, you listened anxiously, your heart pounding in your chest. You waited for the sound of Gojo's departure, your breath held in anticipation.

When Gojo finally left, Nanami let out a sigh of relief. "I've never been one to cover for anyone, so you owe me," he muttered, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "He did seem genuinely sorry, y/n."

The relief that Gojo had finally left didn't last for long, as it was replaced by a glimmer of hope that perhaps you could find a way to mend your fractured friendship. You knew that the road ahead wouldn't be easy, but at least there was a possibility for reconciliation. He did seem pretty honest, but again, you needed some time to think things through.

"I can't just keep running away from this," you admitted, your voice tinged with regret. "I have to fix this, Kento."

Nanami nodded in understanding, his gaze steady on you. "It's never easy, facing something like this. But I believe in you."

Encouraged by Nanami's support, you took a deep breath and squared your shoulders. You knew that the path ahead wouldn't be easy, but you were willing to confront the challenges head-on. You needed to have that conversation with Gojo, to find a way back to the friendship you once cherished.

Hours later, when your shift had come to an end, after an endless back and forth with your own self.

The city lights flickered in the evening chill as your stepped out of the café, your breath misting in the air. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you pulled it out to find a message from Suguru. You hesitated, your fingers hovering over the screen, unsure of how to respond.

Hey, beautiful. How about I pick you up and we can go to the movies?

You frowned, your mind still tangled in the earlier events. After a moment's thought, you decided to keep things simple.

Sorry, overtime at work tonight. Raincheck?

Bummer, but your loss. I'm not going to miss the premiere of Echoes of The Heart.

Romantic, aren't we?

Will take notes so I can impress you.

Lying and rejecting Geto's proposal brought no impact to your inner world and you couldn't understand why. He obviously didn't think much of it and didn't take it at heart.

Your mind had been long stuck on a specific face, on a specific name.

And as you turned the corner, you dialed his number with trembling hands, your heart pounding in your chest.

He picked up almost immediately.

"y/n" Gojo's voice came through, a mix of surprise and relief evident.

"Hi, Satoru," you replied, your tone soft but determined. "Can we talk?"

"Of course! Fuck," Gojo's tone softened, concern washing over his earlier urgency. "I've been worried sick. Are you okay? Where did you go? Can we please-"

Y/n nodded, though he couldn't see it. "I'm okay, Satoru. Please, one question at a time. I want us to talk."

He let out a small laugh, a mix of relief and understanding. "Okay, okay. Are you gonna come over?"

You took another steadying breath. "I don't want to come back to the house right now. Can we meet somewhere outside?"

"Just tell me where and I'll even fly to you if necessary."

You quickly found the location on your phone and sent it to him.

"Can you come there?"

There was a pause on the other end, then Gojo's voice came through, warm and assuring. "I'll be there in a heartbeat. If you get there earlier, just wait for me, okay?"

"Okay," you murmured, relief washing over you.

As you hung up, you took a moment to steady yourself. Despite the mounting tension, there was a strange sense of determination in your gaze. You couldn't turn back now. You were walking a tightrope, balancing on the delicate line between your heart's yearning and the unpredictable twists of fate. The stakes were high, and you were acutely aware of the risks you were taking.

But you missed.

There was one thing you missed.

One tiny little detail that escaped your mind.

In an attempt to choose a place to your liking, which you believed would offer you comfort, you chose a bar. But not just any bar.

The bar.

How could you have missed?

Mistakes can happen, they're part of human nature.

However, you would never forgive yourself for it after realizing how big of a mistake it actually was.

taglist for this chapter:

@dazaisdogsblog

@koo-detat

@anushadias

moraxine, september '23.

[harrystylescherry]

Part Four: Terms and Conditions

A/N: FINALLLYYYYY

what it is: a summer romance in the south of france that breeds nothing but hurt

word count: 4.6k

pls pls pls reblog if you liked it!

i’d love to hear your feedback :)

SERIES MASTERLIST

here we go:

June 9

Harry hadn’t seen Della in more than a few days. And it wasn’t for lack of trying. If she was as unknowable as she said she was, it was because she was unreachable. On more than one occasion, during the first three days of not seeing her, he had called her—though he only let it ring a few times before hanging up. Even after they had laid the ground rules—or conditions, as she called them—and made it clear that she was attracted to him and wanted him in a very particular way, he was still feeling insecure. 

“Anything I’d like?” Della asked. Harry nodded. “I don’t know if you could handle what I like.”

Harry felt something stir in the pit of his stomach. He cleared his throat and willed himself to not think of all the things that could mean. It wasn’t exactly the right moment for a hard on. “I could.”

Della came forward and leaned her forearms on the table. “Let’s say you could,” she challenged. “But are you willing to follow the conditions?”

He had never been very good with rules. It was why most of his relationships ended. But this wasn’t a relationship, he reminded himself. There was less at stake. It would be easier. He leaned forward and mimicked her position. “More than.”

It was when she sat back with a smirk that Harry thought he might be a little in over his head. 

The conditions (rules) were as follows:

No sleepovers (which he should’ve seen coming)

No telling anyone they’re involved (he may have already broken that one, but he wasn’t going to tell her that) (he also was trying very hard not to be offended that she hadn’t bragged about meeting him to anyone)

No meeting up before three o’clock in the afternoon (this made no sense to harry, but Della swore no one met up with their fuck buddies before happy hour—from his experience, that wasn’t exactly true but she spoke with too much authority for him to question it)

No dates (if they went out to dinner or grabbed drinks, they would split the bill fifty-fifty–Harry only agreed to this to avoid an argument but there was no way in hell he’d let her pay for anything)

No catching feelings. The second someone came close, they had to be over (Harry’s cheeks flamed on this one, and he really pretended not to know why)

After they finished their drinks, Harry walked her to her door and they parted ways without a kiss. He would’ve, but Della refused to kiss him after having kissed someone else. Harry was grateful that she at least respected him that much, but part of him wanted her so badly that it wouldn’t have minded. So it was probably best that she didn’t. 

He had just come back from a run when his phone buzzed with a text from the enigma herself. It was a link to a jazz bar with the question: Tonight?

Harry Googled the place and saw it was a fifteen minute drive from him and a twenty minute walk from her flat. 

He texted back. I’ll pick you up at 9?

I’ll walk

No you won’t. I’ll pick you up at 9. 

Fine, bossy

You know you like it

Maybe only a little. For now, at least. Try me again in a few hours

Harry rubbed his palm over his smile, trying to wipe it away. See you later, Del

He had sent the message before he could think through the nickname. For a second, he stared at the message with a stomach full of nerves–but they vanished when the little thumbs up appeared above the bubble. 

“You can’t do that,” Della’s voice was stern as she spoke into her phone. She was half-ready for the beach, in her blue bikini with her cover dress gripped in her fist. 

“I don’t understand what the big deal is,” Josh said, annoyed on the other end of the line. “You told me to find somewhere else to live, and I did.”

“You weren’t supposed to find somewhere in the same fucking building.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this to me.”

“What I’m doing to you? That’s real fucking rich, Della. You broke off our engagement. You made me think you loved me and then moved to another fucking country!”

“I’m sorry–I don’t know how many times I have to say that, and I don’t–I’m not arguing about that anymore. I didn’t end things the way I should’ve. I–”

“I fucking followed you across the ocean.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that! Actually, I remember very specifically telling you that I had to go and do this for me.”

“There was nothing specific about the way you ended things and you know it.”

“Josh, you can’t live there.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore.”

Della scoffed. “As if I ever told you what to do.”

“You’re right, and you don’t get to start now. I don’t even know who you are anymore. You’ve changed, and not for the better. Honestly, you breaking things off was probably one of the best things you’ve ever done for me.”

She could feel the rage seep into her bones. It was a new sensation–one that she had felt for the first time when Josh had shown up to her flat in London with a suitcase and a two-year visa stamped in his passport. It had become a familiar feeling since then, one that she didn’t know how she’d ever really lived without before. Every time she felt it, she realized that this is what it was like to have convictions, to have boundaries, and to have them crossed and violated. This is what it felt like to want to fight back instead of being disappointed for a few days before letting it all go. 

“Go home, Josh. Go back to Vermont. Go away.”

“I have a job here, now.”

“So find a new one.”

“I paid for a visa.”

“I don’t care. Just get the fuck out of my life.”

“Della–”

She hung up and took a shaky breath. She looked at the hardwood floor and considered lying down. It’s what she usually did when the feelings were too much, when it felt as though they would consume her. She’d lay on the floor and wait for the sadness or grief or disappointment or melancholy to seep from her. Anger didn’t work like that, though. It simmered, wanting to boil over and explode. Her body buzzed with the energy. She wanted to throw something, punch something. Suddenly, she felt she could relate to teenage boys–and she grimaced with the thought. 

She grabbed her journal and shoved it in her bag. All she knew how to do was write. It’s all she could do. She’d bake in the sun and swim laps in the sea and carve her anger into the page. 

Harry’s thumb tapped anxiously on the steering wheel the entire drive to Della’s. They hadn’t spoken since they made their plans that morning and his on my way text had gone unanswered. 

The day had dragged as he counted down the hours until now. And he hated that. He hated how invested he already was, how badly he wanted to see her, to feel her body beneath his hands. 

He was chalking it all up to sheer lust. Della was beautiful–striking. And she was a riddle. He had already been exposed to so many different sides of her–versions of her–that he didn’t know which ones were real and which were an act. He also couldn’t decide which version was his favorite; Shy Della, who fumbled with her keys and blushed every time he looked at her, or Self-Assured Della, who sat down with him after kissing someone else, not a hint of embarrassment anywhere on her, and told him that she’d like to forge an arrangement. 

He was prepared to walk up to the door and buzz her flat (3E, he remembered) and was slightly disappointed that he wouldn’t get the chance. She stood in front of the Hermes storefront with her head buried in her phone. A breath caught in his chest at the sight of her in her periwinkle silk dress. The neckline dipped between her breasts in a way that made his mouth water, and the fall of the fabric made it seem as though it was cut precisely for her. He could see every line of her body–the curve of her waist, roundness of her hips, a tiny indent where her belly button was, the outline of her nipples. He had to collect himself before stepping out of the car. 

Her hair was thrown up in a casual ponytail, with wisps of red baby hairs floating around the base of her neck, over her ears and along her forehead. In her flat, gold sandals, she was so effortlessly beautiful, so chic, Harry suddenly felt a little unworthy and very insecure. 

“Hi, love,” he said once he stood in front of her. 

She jolted in surprise before looking up from her phone. “God, sorry, I didn’t even hear you pull up.” 

She had more freckles than the last time he saw her, and the tops of her shoulders were colored pink. His girl had gotten some sun. 

He physically cringed at himself. She wasn’t his anything. He’d do well to remember that. 

“You’re beautiful,” he said. 

Her eyes looked him over appraisingly. “So are you.” She tucked her phone into her bag. “Ready?”

Harry nodded and led her to the car with a hand on her lower back. He made sure to open the door before she could get to it and only closed it once she was tucked in and buckled up. 

He wanted to punch himself–or throw himself into oncoming traffic. Really, he was willing to do whatever he needed to stop being so nervous, so unlike himself. He was so aware of her, of her eyes on him, of every small movement she made in the passenger seat as he settled in and pulled away from the curb. 

“You’re quiet,” he commented when he realized they had made half the drive in silence. 

She tossed him a smirk. “So are you.” 

“Sorry, I’m just a little–” He stopped himself before he could say something that would scare her away. Because he knew it would. If he admitted to her he was nervous, then she’d remind him that this wasn’t a date, and so there would be nothing to be nervous about, and then she’d see that it didn’t matter and she’d call this off before it could even start. He’d come to know her enough to know exactly how that would go (and he only knew her so well thanks to the hours he’d spent picking apart every interaction they had). “Is everything okay?”

She sighed. “Yeah, just having to deal with something from home. A very annoying something,” she muttered. 

“Is it your ex?” 

Della’s head spun to look at him. “How’d you know?”

He shrugged. “Lucky guess. So what’s the deal?”

“What do you mean?”

“What happened that sent you running all the way to France for the summer?”

“I did not run to France to get away from him. That’s what London was supposed to be for, actually. It didn’t exactly work the way I hoped.”

With a quick look at her, he caught the grimace on her face. “And how did you hope that would go?”

“He was supposed to forget about me.”

Harry scoffed. 

“What?”

“There’s nothing remotely forgettable about you.”

At a stoplight, he looked over at her and smirked at the look of shock on her face. She recovered quickly. 

“I need to be drunk  to have this conversation with you.”

“That can be arranged.”

The jazz bar was underground, the entrance a few steps below street level. The stained glass door was held open by the man working the door, and the couple slipped inside. 

It was hazy, though Della wasn’t sure why, considering smoking wasn’t allowed indoors–proven by the crowd of people inhaling and chatting on the street outside. The small tables were crowded together, forcing Della to lift herself onto her tiptoes as to not knock over the glass of the table nextdoor as she moved to her seat. 

A hand wrapped around her hip. “ça va?”

Della looked to the man the broad hand was attached to. He was hot, the French kind of hot, and if she wasn’t here with Harry, she’d probably end up sitting in the chair between him and his friend. But she was with Harry, so she sent him a polite smile and said, “Bien, merci.”

She slid into her seat and out of his grasp. When she looked up at Harry, his jaw was tight. He hadn’t liked that. His reaction made her giddier than it should’ve. 

“Humid in here, no?” She leaned over the small table to ask, moving the tealight towards the center of the table. 

Harry looked around. “Yeah.” His jaw was still ticking. 

Honestly, she was surprised at his jealousy. She didn’t think he had it in him; he just seemed too sweet, too go-with-the-flow, and hands-off to care enough to get jealous. Clearly, she underestimated him. 

Josh never really got jealous, and Della was always just toxic enough that it sort-of bothered her. There were a few months her sophomore year where she had found herself going out of her way to spark it. It never worked. She understood being secure in a relationship, being comfortable and sure about where you stood with someone, but it wasn’t about that. It was about feeling wanted, desired. It was about knowing that someone wanted you so much that they got just a little unhinged about it. A little possessive, like they wanted every piece of you for themself. 

But Della was who she was, and so she had simply let it go and accepted that it just wasn’t part of who Josh was. 

Harry’s eyes were locked on the stage, his jaw still tight. Clearly, he wanted to say something, whether to Della or the Frenchman she wasn’t sure, but he felt he couldn’t. Probably like it wasn’t his place. And it wasn’t, really. They weren’t together. This wasn’t a date. They were just two people…hanging out. 

“Should we get a bottle of wine?” She asked, while lifting the worn black book off the edge of the table and flipping through it. 

“Yeah, whatever you want.”

She let the smooth notes of the piano fill the space between them. When he still didn’t look at her, and the furrow in his brow didn’t lessen, she reached under the table and dropped her hand on his linen clad thigh. 

His eyes snapped to her’s.

“Should we get a red?” She asked casually, as she squeezed the taut muscle beneath her palm. Why she was trying to reassure him, she didn’t know–couldn’t even begin to think about why she cared. Not when she was meant to be doing the exact opposite. 

He dropped his hand onto her’s and smiled. “Yeah, we could do that.”

“Cool.” She pulled her hand away and held the book out to him. “You pick.” When he went to grab it, she pulled it just out of his reach and narrowed her eyes. “But nothing crazy. Fifty-fifty, remember?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Drunk enough to have that conversation?” Harry asked as Della drank the last of what was in her glass. 

“What conversation?” 

“The ex-boyfriend one.”

She scrunched her nose and Harry melted at the cuteness of it. Della eyed the bottle in front of her. There was probably a glass and a half left, but Harry didn’t plan on drinking anymore (he had precious cargo to drive home) so he poured the rest into her glass. 

“Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing.”

“What’s that?” 

“You think if you liquor me up, I’ll tell you all my secrets.”

“You’re drinking wine, not liquor.” She rolled her eyes. “And no, not your secrets.” He shrugged in earnest. “Just trying to get to know you.”

“I already told you–”

“Yeah, you’re unknowable. So you said.”

“Exactly.”

“But I don’t believe that.”

“Not believing something doesn’t make it any less true,” she said before taking a sip. 

“The same way that believing something doesn’t make it true.”She narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t want to share, I can accept that. As someone who has had to fight for every ounce of privacy they got–and even still sometimes lost–I understand. But c’mon, Del, it’s not that you’re inherently unknowable, it’s that you want to be.”

He couldn’t tell if he’d gone too far. Her expression was unreadable. Panic tightened his chest and he took a long drink of water. 

Her pretty mouth twisted in…he couldn’t tell if it was annoyance or amusement or sheer, unfortunate acceptance that he’d just dragged them into the kind of emotional place she clearly never wanted to go. 

“I don’t know who I am. That’s why I’m here,” she said. “I’m unknowable to me.” Harry leaned forward, hanging on to every word she spoke. “London was supposed to help me. It was going to be mine, only mine. I was going to have to make decisions. Real ones. There’d be no one to catch me, or lead me, or influence me. Following the wind wouldn’t be an option because I’d have to survive–I’d have to thrive in order to survive. And then that was taken away from me, and everything was all washed up and confusing all over again. Not easy–no, not easy at all. It could’ve been, if I let it, but by then I’d learned how to have some resolve. I had conviction of my own. And I couldn’t give it up.” She finally looked up at him, though her fingers were still toying with the stem of her glass. “So I came here. To hold onto it. I can’t lose it, Harry, not when I just found it. Not when I need it.”

He understood what she was saying. He heard her. She wasn’t in a place to let anyone in right now, not when what she had found for herself was still so fragile. Della seemed to know herself better than she thought. She knew enough to know what she needed. If she thought herself as easily influenced, well, Harry could argue with that, but he didn’t know her before she came here. He didn’t know the version of her that she was so clearly trying to shake, and he wouldn’t challenge that. He wouldn’t make this any harder for her than it already seemed to be. But he wasn’t going to give her up either, so he’d be whatever she needed–whatever she wanted. 

“Okay,” he said, allowing an easy smile to take over his face. 

“Okay?” He didn’t like the insecurity in her voice. 

He nodded once, sure. “Okay.”

She could keep her secrets and her heart as long as she gave him everything else. 

Della was tipsy. Definitely, so. 

Which was fine. She was having fun, and the music moved from smooth to boisterous without a single warning. Something her and jazz had in common. 

On her way back from the restroom, where she waited in line for ten minutes to take the longest pee of her life, the Frenchman caught her hand. He’d caught her eye with his a few times throughout the last hour or so, but Della had done well with ignoring him. The glances weren’t creepy. More interested, questioning. 

And she knew exactly what he was questioning. She was in France, for god’s sake. She raised a single eyebrow. 

“Est-ce que je peux t'offrir un verre?”

He wanted to buy her a drink? She shouldn’t have been surprised by his boldness, but still, she was clearly there with someone else. 

She looked at him, and then back at Harry, whose jaw was tight, eyes set in a glare. 

Her hand slipped from his grasp as she leaned against Harry’s side, her hips level with his chest. She dropped a casual hand into his hair and toyed with the waves. His hand slid up the backs of her legs and over the curve of her ass to hold onto her hip. She looked down at him and smiled. “Non.”

His eyes flicked to Harry. “ Peut-être après?”

Maybe after? She wanted to laugh in his face, and also flick his forehead. Clearly, he knew Harry didn’t speak French. If he thought there was any chance he could understand their conversation, there was no way he'd be so forward. Her anger flared at the lack of respect. 

Even though it shouldn’t. She’d think about that later. 

With way too much ease, she settled herself onto Harry’s lap. For a second, he stiffened, clearly caught off guard, but within seconds, his arms were around her waist. The guy wasn’t worth a response, so she didn’t give one. Only turned towards Harry and kissed his jaw. It was still tight. 

She lifted her hand and held it on either side, massaging her fingers into where she could feel him clenching. “Relax, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Not the point.”

“I know,” she whispered. Then giggled, the wine fueling her more than anything else. 

“What?”

“I think I like you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Jealous. Possessive.”

“Protective,” he corrected. 

She smiled. “That too.”

He shook his head, and lowered his lips to her’s. 

A knock on the edge of their table broke their bubble. 

A different man, older, stood behind Della’s chair, his hand holding the back of it. He pointed to his left, where a few feet away, his group stood around a table. In French, he asked if they were using the chair. 

Clearly, she wasn’t in her right mind, because she told him he could have it. 

“Wait, sir–” Harry started as the man took the chair away. 

“Let him have it,” Della said and she relaxed further into him. “I’m perfectly fine where I am. Prefer it, actually.”

She really was going to be the death of him. All her squirming and readjusting each time she reached for her wine or water had hardened him beyond the point of comfort. It was taking everything in him to get it to go down–barely. He just needed to relax enough to get out of there without poking anyone in the eye. 

“Ready?” Della asked after she drained the rest of her water. 

“Yeah,” he said, though he was not. As she stood from his lap, he tried, as inconspicuous as possible, to readjust himself, managing to tuck himself into his waistband. He only had to deal with the discomfort until they got to the car. He could do that. 

He led her out by her hips, strategically holding her in front of him as they moved through the tables and up the stairs. 

“That was cruel,” he whispered in her ear after pulling her against him once they got to the car.

“What was?” She looked up at him with mock innocence over her shoulder.

He bit the inside of his cheek, reaching around her to open the car door. With a squeeze to her ass, he nudged her towards the seat. “In. Now.”

She paused and looked at him, playfulness and heat in her eyes. 

He huffed in playful annoyance. “What now?”

“I think I do like you bossy.”

Before he could reply, she slid into the seat and Harry closed the door. 

He knew, undoubtedly, Della would be the death of him. 

They went back to her’s (logistically, according to Della, it was the only option considering she didn’t have a car and sleepovers were against the rules) and barely made it into the room before Harry had her dress bunched around her hips. 

She tasted like wine and everything good in the world–it made him dizzy. He teased her and licked her until she was a whimpering mess, her hands lost in his hair and her thighs left with handprints where he had to hold her down. 

He left careless marks on her neck, for anyone like the prick at the bar. 

Before he slipped his cock inside of her, he whispered, “Mine.”

And when he was all the way inside: “You’re mine.”

“For now,” she breathed, caught up in the trails of a moan. 

For more than that. 

He’d never say it. And with a hard thrust into her, he pretended he never even thought it. He’d be smart to call it off. Only a few days of knowing her and he was in too deep. He cared too much. Wanted too freely. And if she knew, she’d leave him without a second thought. Where she stood had been made crystal clear. Harry needed to pull back, return to the same page. He could. He swore to himself that after tonight, he would. 

After he came with his face tucked into her neck, they shared a plate of whatever bits Della had in her fridge, and she made them a snack of chocolate and butter on a baguette. She was so excited to share it with him that Harry couldn’t bear to tell her that his ex had introduced him to it when they first met. It didn’t matter, anyway, since it tasted so much better enjoyed tucked into the sheets with Della. 

Her ponytail had loosened, spilling red around her face and over her shoulders. He reached out to wipe a crumb from her mouth and she bit his finger. He fought off the swell in his chest with both fists. 

“Should we call it a night?” She asked through a yawn. 

No. 

“Sure, yeah. I’m pretty beat.” He cleared his throat as he got up and started pulling his clothes on. 

When he tried to pull away after kissing her goodbye, she wrapped her arms around his neck. He wrapped her in his arms, squeezed, and placed a soft kiss to her neck. 

He had just turned on the ignition when a text from Gemma came through.

This her????

Harry’s heart dropped into his stomach as he tapped the photo. 

It was a shot of him and Della getting into his car leaving the jazz club. 

Thankfully, since his body had blocked most of her from the camera’s view and it was taken at an awkward enough angle (most likely as whoever took it walked past them), all that could be seen of Della was her fire-hued hair. 

The relief was short-lived. What if there were more? What if they were clear? He thought of everyone around them and tried to remember if he noticed anyone trying to take photos. Usually, he could feel it. Being in the public eye for so long had given him a sixth sense–a learned survival instinct–but he was so focused on Della he wasn’t sure he would’ve noticed. 

“Fuck.” He dropped his head against the seat and ran a hand over his face. If anyone had seen them out the last few times, pictures would’ve already surfaced. They were safe on that front, but now? Now people knew where he was, and they knew there was someone. 

He wouldn’t let them take this from him, let them ruin it. If it went up in flames, it would be his own doing. 

He wanted to laugh at his luck. At his life. Harry was already going to feel the loss when the summer was over and that was enough to hurt. Now, he could lose it much sooner, and that wasn’t okay with him. 

He put the car in drive, and started home. 

[damn-stark]

Chapter 19 I’m sorry for your loss

Chapter 19 of Sugar

A/N- We have to go on a small hiatus to catch up to the anime after this chapter!

Warning- Swearing, ANGST!, fluff?, Violence, death, blood and gore, spoilers, SLOW BURN, heavy pining, long chapter.

Pairing- Choso x Gojo!fem-reader, Suguru Geto x Gojo!fem-reader

Takes place during- 2x17-2x20, and snippet spoilers for chapters 133 and 134!!

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

*A FEW YEARS BACK. 2008*

“I wish I was fearless like you. I’m always scared.”

You laugh softly at Mimiko’s comment, and as brave as you want to sound, you don’t stray from the truth.

“When I was a little girl,” you begin to share softly. “Just like you, I was scared.”

Nanako giggles and argues against you since all she sees now is you being fearless. “That’s not true. I don’t believe it.”

You nod. “It’s true,” you insist and glance at your right side to look at her. “When I was little I used to be scared of many things,” you continue softly. “I was scared of curses, I was scared of bugs, and almost anything that went bump in the night.” You sigh and look up at the ceiling. “Even now I'm scared.”

“Of bugs?” Mimiko probes.

You giggle and shake your head. “Just spiders. But Suguru kills those so I’m okay.”

“What else are you scared of?” Nanako queries softly as she flips to her side to watch you watching the ceiling.

You hum softly and think of lying, but they expect you to be sincere, they want you to be sincere. So you admit one truth. “I’m scared of being alone. I don’t like being alone.”

Nanako and Mimiko stay quiet for a moment as they think of your answer. You keep your eyes on the ceiling as you wait, and hope you didn’t change the way they look at you by letting them see that you’re as much of a human as them.

You want them to look up to you, yes, more than anything, but you also don’t want them to look at you like you’re someone cold and unreachable. It always felt like your parents were on pedestals; they were something you could see but never get close to or touch. You always tried to live up to their image, but no matter how much you tried it was never enough, they got higher and higher.

You want your girls to know that you’re always here, at their level.

“Well,” Mimiko breaks the silence and flips around to hug your arm, making you slowly look at her with relief. “You’ll always have us.”

“And Geto!” Nanako adds excitedly. “You’ll never be alone,” she assures you.

You look at the both of them before you grin happily and throw your arms around them to pull them close to you. “Yeah,” you whisper in a shaky voice as you try hard not to cry happy tears. “You’re both right…but you know,” you sigh and slowly grow serious so you can assure their previous insecurity. “It’s okay to be scared. You can be scared, okay? That’s okay, it’s human, it’s normal. But you know what?”

“What?” Nanako probes.

You smile softly. “You never have to fear going back to that awful place, Suguru nor I will ever, ever let that happen, okay? We’ll never let anyone hurt either of you ever again, all right?”

Mimiko and Nanako snuggle up against you and they whisper softly, “okay.”

You let out a content breath of air, and press a gentle kiss on the top of their heads.

——

*NOW. 2018*

“Mimiko? Nanako?” You call out through the hall.

There’s no answer even if on your screen it says they’re just down the hall.

Maybe they’re hiding?

So you call out louder as you pick up your pace. “Nanako, Mimiko. It’s okay, it's just me.”

There’s still no response and that alone is weird, you’d usually get some kind of response, even if it’s to talk back. But right now besides the sound of Choso and your footsteps, there’s just silence.

“Maybe they left,” Choso suggests.

You look back at him with amusement. “Yeah, no, Nanako doesn’t go anywhere without her phone. Not only because it has to do with her technique, but she’s probably addicted to it. It's a problem.” You laugh softly and glance at all the deep cracks on the ceiling that weren’t here before. “Hey, I wonder what happened here,” you point out.

Choso sighs. “This is where I fought Yuji,” he shares, making you look back at him with your lips slightly parted with surprise and awe.

“You’ll have to explain your technique to me later,” you interject. “I’m very curious about how your technique works specifically. I haven’t seen anything like it.”

Choso shrugs. “It’s simple,” he deadpans.

You scoff. “It’s simple,” you mock him, making his eyebrows immediately furrow, while his lips curl to a displeased frown.

You flash him a smile and shake your finger at him. “It’s not simple, it’s complex and interesting, I want to hear about it so you have to come up with something better than it's simple, hm?”

Choso holds your gaze for a lingering moment before he nods once.

“Great,” you praise him and then look ahead again to quicken your pace as you get close to the end of the hall. “Nanako, Mimiko you can come out now!” You call out one more time with excitement.

However, when you reach the end of the hall, you immediately come to a sudden halt as you notice Mimiko bowing down in a pool of blood that's spilled all over the floor in front of the hall that leads to the elevators.

“Mimiko?” You call out quieter and feel your smile fade away when you don’t see her move a muscle, or notice Nanako beside her twin sister.

“Mimiko?” You call out again from where you are, but she still doesn’t move.

Why isn’t she moving?

Why can’t you move?

“Bunny?” You call out a third time and swallow back nervously when she remains unresponsive, and Nanako doesn’t proceed to come out and meet you.

You try to move towards her, but your eyes remain on the insane amount of blood on the floor and you can’t find the strength to suddenly move a single fiber in your body. It doesn’t even feel like your chest is taking in breaths. You’re at a standstill with your heart beginning to pound, and the obscene scene ahead of you.

“Mimiko,” you call out sweetly. “Baby get up. Whatever it is, it’s okay. I’m not mad. Just get up. Please Mimiko.”

A wet streak running down your cheeks snaps you from your stupor and makes you confused about what it can be. So you move to touch the dampness, and when you pull your fingers out in front of you, you see that it’s a tear. You’re crying. Why?

Why isn’t Mimiko getting up?

You take a cautious step forward and see that just a bit away from the thick pool of blood is Nanako’s phone that’s easily identifiable because of her vibrant green bunny case; so you quickly pick it off the ground and wonder why it's discarded and bent and cracked, because Nanako always takes good care of her phone, and hardly ever parts from it.

So why? What happened? Your heart asks.

“Nanako?” You call out and step forward to see if she’s hiding near the elevators, but there’s no one there. There’s nothing here but a gash on the wall, purple blood sprayed across the walls, and thick and deep crimson blood all over the floor that seems to have pieces of flesh littered all over it.

“Nanako?” You call out just above a whisper and keep watching the end of the hall in hopes she’ll walk out of hiding.

Yet there’s just deafening silence and a sharp jab in your heart that makes you gasp. Yet no matter how hard your mind is trying to make you understand what you’re seeing, your heart refuses to let the message through. It fights back against all the intrusion from your insistent mind.

“Okay,” you murmur and wipe away the tears that keep running down your face before you put Nanako’s phone in your pocket since she’d hate it if you stored it in The Worm.

Next, you proceed to walk back to Mimiko and fall on your knees beside her. “It’s okay,” you assure her body that feels stiff under your touch. “It’s okay, baby,” you coo and gently tighten your hold around her arm to flip her to her back. And right away you see that her neck is missing her head.

However, you end up finding it just above her body so you crawl over to pick it up and place it where it’s meant to be.

“You’ll be okay,” you assure her and feel a sharper jab in your heart that hits deep this time and makes your whole body begin to tremble. “I'm calling for help,” you let her know.

You quickly pull your phone out but feel a stare burning into the back of your neck, so you look back and see that Choso’s face had abandoned that nonchalant expression, and replaced it with pity.

And yet, no matter how hard you try to get upset at him for looking at you like there’s nothing you can do, like the end of the world is upon you; when you stare into his eyes you feel your heart crack whilst something tightens around your throat, making it hard to breathe.

You see the harsh undeniable truth in his rich brown eyes, so you quickly look away and call Shoko.

Luckily she answers right away. She’s the only one who’s answered her damn phone.

“Y/N?” She calls out with worry laced in his voice.

“Ieiri,” your voice breaks without you wanting it to, revealing your current emotional state.

“Y/N?” She calls out louder. “What's wrong?”

You part your lips and a shuddery breath escapes past your lips before you answer. “I need your help…I found Mimiko…she needs your help, okay?” You begin to sound desperate. “I know you don’t owe me anything after everything, but Ieiri, this is my girl. She’s my baby girl, okay? You need to come help her, I already lost too much, I can’t go home without the twins. Please come help me,” your voice quivers.

Shoko draws out a deep breath before she responds with urgency. “Okay, I’m going. Just text me where you are and I’ll go. And tell me her condition, maybe you can help her until I get there.”

You nod rapidly and pick up Mimiko’s hand off the floor. “She—well,” you swallow thickly and try to answer, but nothing comes out as you’re hit with a painful blow to your chest that only makes the breath in your lungs come out.

“Y/N,” Shoko insists.

You blink repeatedly and more tears come rushing out.

“Well,” you mumble. “Her head….her head was ah,” you shudder. “Her head was sliced off. And...I think Nanako was sliced to pieces…but they’re here…Ieiri, they’re here. Come help them, please, please,” you beg softly.

“Oh,” Shoko gasps. “Oh, y/n…honey. Listen to me.”

You shake your head. “No,” you interject and grip tighter onto Mimiko’s hand. “No, no, don’t tell me that. Please don’t…they’re my girls. Okay? Maybe I can get them to you? Okay? I’ll have my friend here help me, or-or I can ask Kento.” You nod as you try to find a loophole around the truth she's about to utter. “He just needs to answer his phone first,” you laugh and more tears come rushing out.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Shoko says in a soothing voice that she only uses when she’s being serious. “I’m very sorry, but there’s nothing I can do…they’re gone. So why don’t you come up over here and be on standby, okay? I’ll meet you half—”

You hang up and proceed to put your phone away to cup Mimiko’s hand with the both of yours while you sit in silence and shock.

Your phone rings and you know it’s Shoko trying to comfort you, but you let the phone ring as you stare off at the pool of blood around Mimiko.

Whereas you were speaking to her before trying desperately to plead for your daughters to wake up from an impossible situation, now you sit in silence with your mind's cold message finally creeping into your heart.

It tries so hard to fight, accept anything else but what it sees, but there’s no hiding from the truth unless you want to end up in a hole you’ll never escape from.

And you can’t do that, you can’t fall into insanity because Satori still needs you, she needs her mother. Hakari and Kirara still need you to teach them so much more. Itadori is still out there, as well as Nanami, and everyone else that came to fight. Not only that but you still need to help your brother. More than anything he needs your help now, so you can’t shut off.

You can only break.

And it’s what happens, slowly, and agonizingly so.

Actually, you can barely feel it at first, there were only tears showing what your soul felt inside, but then that creepy grip wraps around your throat, making your breathing heavy as you try your hardest to draw in air to keep your lungs functioning and blood pumping. However, then that weight on your chest you were numb to seconds ago as you filled yourself with blinding hope, pushes back and smothers on more, causing you to start heaving.

Your heart starts to race against your chest and thumps loudly and painfully in your ears, causing you to start getting overwhelmed to the point your paralyzing shock holding you captive let's go, letting you get slammed with the realization that Mimiko and Nanako are dead.

They’re gone.

The girls you raised since Suguru saved them 11 years ago are gone. The girls you loved and promised to protect are gone…forever.

You’ll never be able to come home to them, you’ll never hear whatever silly story of their teenage life they have to tell. You’ll never watch movies on the couch, or share a spa night. You’ll never eat junk food on your bed and fall asleep to some cheesy movie, or grip onto them when they make you watch a scary movie with them.

What’s even worse is that you’ll never hold them again, or comfort them. You’ll never say that you love them, and you’ll never say goodbye…

You didn’t say goodbye.

They were probably so scared. They were alone and scared…

You told them no one would hurt them, and now they’re gone! They’re gone forever and you didn’t get to say goodbye. You’ll never get to tell them that you love them because they're gone!

They’re gone! They’re dead!

And you can’t breathe. You can’t breathe….

Breathe…

Breathe…

Your jaw goes slack as you gasp for air. You clutch onto your chest to try and ease the agony, to try and see if that helps, but you can’t breathe and it feels like you’re going to pass out.

That is until a heartbroken wail escapes past your lips that echoes throughout the hall.

It’s unlike anything else. You didn’t even cry like this when Suguru died. You didn't let yourself, and you couldn’t for your children’s sake, but you can’t hold it in now, you can’t let it pile on anymore. So you cry out again and drop your head on Mimiko’s chest.

You don't even care that Choso might be watching, but you still check. And when you do, you see that he’s not around. You’re alone…

And it hurts more.

But…you try your best to ignore your solitude for now and manage to speak. “I’m sorry,” your voice sounds raspy from how loud you just cried out. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry…I’m sorry.”

You drag your head up and put your forehead against Mimiko’s hand. “I'm sorry,” you repeat. “I'm sorry to you too Suguru…I’m sorry I couldn’t protect our girls. I’m sorry.” You sniffle and bring Mimiko’s hand down to press a kiss on her knuckles before you hug her arm against your chest.

If only you could do the same with Nanako too, but she’s gone, completely…

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, and as you draw out a shaky breath a hand falls on your shoulder, making you jump slightly before you look back and see, Choso.

“I thought you left,” you whisper, but feel a sense of relief that he didn’t.

“No,” he says and moves his hands, causing paper to rustle and making you look down to see a large paper map in his hands that only leaves you confused.

However, before you can ask what he needs that for, he extends the map over Mimiko’s body.

“Oh,” you mouth in surprise, and watch the paper cover her completely, leaving only her hand out since you keep it against your chest. “Thank you,” you manage to utter through the shakiness of your voice.

Choso steps back and looks over at you expecting not to catch your eye, but you had been watching him too so you lock eyes and offer him a warm thankful smile that is meant for much more than just covering your daughter's body.

He could’ve left, he should’ve left, but he stayed here and you weren’t alone because of it. He was here and even if he was in the background probably feeling awkward over what he had to witness, you still appreciate his presence. You appreciate his silence because even if he doesn’t say a thing at least you know he’s here.

You’ll always remember that because he was not here after the fact, he was here now, with you. And for that, you appreciate him.

“Really,” you make your gratitude known. “Thank you…” you trail off and sniffle. “And if you want, you can leave,” you contradict your inner thoughts to spare him if that’s what he wants. “Find your father, find what you need about Itadori…I’ll find him later…I just need a few more minutes with my girls.” You nod and offer him a kind smile while you hold his gaze.

Choso doesn’t look away first because unbeknownst to you his mind was running rampant. Besides his current feelings about his father and Yuji Itadori, you ran into the mix as well and confused him more.

Whereas he worshiped you before for what you meant to him, now it feels like you're at his level somehow.

It felt like you were almost unreachable before like you were only something he could admire and feel thankful for, but now it’s different. A bit. He still very much holds you above anyone he’s met, but now besides the way he has to catch his breath when you look at him, or besides feeling his face burn when you say something that makes his heart skip a beat, he now feels the need to fiercely protect you.

After hearing your heartache, and seeing your teary eyes, he wants to protect you so he doesn’t have to see you go through that again.

It’s partially why he didn’t leave when you said he could.

That, and well, before he can do much of anything else, he still also has some things to go over in his head about what he saw in that fake memory of Yuji Itadori.

——

*11:28 pm*

Everything aches and all you feel like doing is staying beside Mimiko. Even if you’re just sitting and staring off at the blood slowly drying on the floor, all you want to do is stay next to her.

Alas, you still need to keep your promise to find Itadori and be at his side as tonight continues to unfold. You need to save Satoru from Noritoshi Kamo, and eventually, you need to go home—even if you don’t want to return home without them, even if you don’t want to explain to your six-year-old daughter that her sisters won’t ever be coming home, and even if you don’t want to go back to your house and see the twins room empty, you still have to.

You need to get up even if it’s hard. You have to…

Get up…get up…

Get up.

Yet when you do stand on your own two feet you need a minute to catch your breath and grasp your surroundings. It felt like you weren’t even conscious in your body just now, it felt like an eternity passed around you.

In reality, though, only a few minutes have gone by. Which is good, if Itadori or anyone else needs your help, they need it now, not later. So it’s good that it's only been a few minutes, you can grieve properly later—

Grieve?

That sounds funny to think about.

It threatens to break you down all over again, but it also feels like you’re making it up. It’s crazy.

It’s just crazy to believe that you have to grieve Nanako and Mimiko. All because of who?

Noritoshi Kamo?

No, doubtful. It doesn’t seem like he would’ve killed them just because. You attacked him so he countered, plus when you saw the twins last it was where the trains stop, this is far from there, so it means it wasn’t him, it was someone else, but who?

Patchface?

He would’ve turned them into a curse if that was the case.

Volcano head?

No, he would’ve burnt them alive.

The other curse with them?

Doubtful.

So was it Sukuna? He’s out. Or he was out, it doesn’t sound like he is anymore.

But why would they have been close to Sukuna? Were they with Itadori?

You have to know. Later. For now, you let out a deep breath and wipe the stray tears off your face, and walk to Choso sitting against the wall a few paces away.

He sees you approaching and his lips part as he slowly sits up to begin to get up, but you plop down next to him and rest your head against the wall.

“Why didn’t you leave?” You break your silence with a raspy voice.

Choso stays quiet for a moment before he draws out a deep breath and responds quietly. “I don’t really have anywhere to go.”

You blink and slowly look over him with pity.

“Besides,” he adds. “I'm still thinking.”

You draw out a deep breath and nod slowly in comprehension. “So,” you probe and look down at the Worm draped around you. “What do you know now that you’ve had time to think?”

Choso lets out another deep breath and mumbles, “I’m still unsure, but I do know that I want to figure it out as I fight for him.” He nods softly. “I'll know soon even if it’s by my father's own mouth, or by my instincts alone.”

A tiny and exhausted smile tugs on your lips at the sound of his words. “Okay, I like the sound of that,” you compliment him and cause him to look over at you.

You also look at him and notice his lips part as if he wants to say something, so you wait. However, his eyes drift past you so you cut in. “I’m going to find Itadori too, and then get my brother back. Not for anyone else, because I know my parents are about to call me and pretend they care so I can help their golden boy. And the rest of the sorcerer society is going to expect me to save him, but,” you sigh. “I’m going to risk my life for my daughter's uncle, whom she loves. I’m going out there because I want to save my brother…” you trail off and share a comforting look.

“I guess what I'm trying to say,” you continue. “Is that if you’re going out there to find Itadori, it’s because you want to. Brother or not, you don’t have to go out there and risk your life. You’re free to do what you want after losing your brothers to him.”

Choso’s eyes drift down for a second before he looks back at you and you realize he makes incredible eye contact—“I need to know,” he says confidently. “And I owe it to my brothers to kill my father.”

You hum softly in comprehension and watch him stand to his given height. You’re about to get up, but he turns and offers you his hand.

His gesture surprises you, even if it shouldn’t, actually you don’t know why it surprises you so much. And you especially don’t know why you stare at his hand for a second longer than you wanted to, but you do and then put your warm hand on his cold one, making his breath hitch as he helps you to your feet.

“Sorry,” you immediately cut in and let your touch linger before you slide it off. “I run warm because of my technique.”

Choso assures you that it’s fine with a shake of his head, making you smile before you offer him a confident look.

“Let’s go kill your dad,” you try to encourage him.

Choso scoffs and the corner of his lips tug to a tiny half smile. “Let’s go,” he agrees with a small nod.

You step forward to begin walking away, but first, you look back at the body you’re leaving behind, and immediately your eyes fill with tears at the sight and the reminder that they’re both gone.

However, you only let a couple of tears roll out as you promise you’ll come back for them later, once your life is secure. You can’t risk having something happen to you or the Worm and losing their bodies along with it, so you’ll come after.

For now, you walk away with Choso with that positive energy long forgotten. You walk in silence now and on the brink of tears.

Choso steals glimpses at you, but he doesn’t know what to say, so he leaves the silence as it is until he has to interject with a question. “Do you also know where Yuji is?”

You break from your stupor and shake your head lightly. “No. I don’t have his location on my phone. We’ll just have to go off instinct or follow the sound of a battle. I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I can try and text him though.”

Without hearing his response you pull out your phone and send Itadori a quick message.

You to Itadori: Could you let me know where you’re at? Please. I’m going to you.

You sigh and as you put your phone away you hope he answers back. Unlike the others who haven’t even read your message.

“Uh,” you interject softly. “After this, Choso, I want to help you get your brothers back from the school.”

Choso snaps his head to you, and you slowly meet his surprised gaze and smile at him so he can know you’re being honest.

“There’s still what? 6 left, and I’ve gone in before, I can go in again,” you continue to explain through his shock. “And it’ll be easier because I currently go to the school for work. I mean sure the higher-ups and the principal won’t like it, but they can suck it because I don’t work for them. They could all die for all I care honestly,” you say without trouble or remorse for them.

“And,” you add in a sweeter and softer tone as you recall what he said a few minutes ago. “You all have a home in my community. You can go there.” You offer him an assuring smile, causing Choso’s chest to rise as his breath catches.

“Why?” He mumbles almost as if he’s out of breath.

You blink and sigh deeply. “Because,” you quickly respond. “I said I was going to take you all out before. I owe it to you to complete my promise.”

Choso lifts his eyes off your lips and meets your gaze to try and find out if you’re playing some cruel joke. But all he sees is what he saw before, what he sees in you all the time he looks into your alluring fire-kissed eyes, hope and warmth. He sees sincerity too in your grieving eyes.

So he trusts that you’re being honest.

Yet he still continues to doubt.

“But…we’re not like you,” he pauses and frowns, making his gaze show conflict that seems to make his brown eyes grow a deeper brown, almost as if they were cast over by a storm—“I’m not like you,” he clarifies. “I’m not…human.”

You stare into his eyes for a moment before you come to a stop, making him slowly mirror your action and face you with confusion mixing in with his conflict.

You proceed to hesitate as you hold his gaze, but then a few seconds later he swears he sees your eyes give off a spark, giving life to the fire lit in your eyes. And before he knows it you approach him and stop only a few inches away from where he stands.

“Give me your right hand,” you demand sweetly as you put your hand out.

Choso blinks in confusion and remains stiff, making you scoff and point at your palm facing the ceiling.

“Come on,” you insist. “Trust me, it’s okay. I mean we are going to fight together so you have to trust me or else we’ll probably die.” You smirk.

Choso’s arm twitches and he lifts his fingers, but he doesn’t give you his hand, so you continue insisting. “It’s okay, I trust you. Trust me.”

Choso lets out a deep breath through his nose and slowly lays his hand on yours, making you flash him a small and proud smile before you turn his hand so his knuckles are resting on your palm instead. You then proceed to gently place his hand against his heart, and you interlace your fingers in between his to press your fingertips against his chest.

And at the simple touch, you hear his breath hitch in the silence that fills the space between you as you feel for his heartbeat that doesn’t come at first. Since his layers are thick it takes a moment, so when you don’t feel anything, you press harder and finally feel that gentle ba-dum beat faster and faster.

“Feel that? That heartbeat?” You ask almost excitedly. “I do,” you assure him and smile at him softly.

Choso’s lips part, but nothing but a huff of air unfurls out. He also thinks you’re about to let go so he doesn’t bother trying to find something to say in the mess you’re causing in his mind. But then, you press your right hand over your chest and proceed to take his hand to place it over yours.

“It’s okay,” you assure him and interlace his fingers in between yours for him as you feel how stiff he is.

“Now feel,” you whisper and glance down for a second before your eyes flicker up to see that his gaze hasn’t broken away from you. He watches you instead of looking away or watching his hand. He holds your gaze with a deep intensity that makes you feel hot while your heartbeat thumps faster under his touch.

Not only that, but you then feel your heart skip a beat under your hands. And you hope he doesn't notice.

“Y-you,” you stammer so you stop and softly clear your throat. “You feel that right?” You ask with more confidence. “My heart beats just like yours,” you comfort him before you slip your hand off, causing his to fall to his side.

“My breath furls in my lungs, just like yours,” you continue and smile wider. “You’re human.”

Choso swallows thickly and neither of you can look away from the other for a moment that seems to grow tensful until he looks down at the floor and shakes his head. “Some of my brothers aren’t like us,” he argues. “They look different.”

You reach over and grab his shoulder, making him slowly look up at you with a deep frown painted on his face. “You see what’s around my neck right?” You quiere.

Choso glances at the worm and looks back at you.

“And a tiger cursed spirit has been almost stuck to my daughter's hip since she could open her eyes because Suguru wanted it to protect her when he couldn’t. She loves that thing, they’ve bonded,” you continue and share a small laugh. “So we see curses, we’re used to strange,” you nod. “And sure, it will take some people time to get used to seeing something new, but as long as they’re like you, as long as they don’t hurt anyone I love or anyone in the community, I’ll welcome them. And so will everyone else.”

Choso's eyebrows furrow and he gently shakes his head. “Why?” He asks.

“Why what?” You rebuttal. “Why we’ll welcome them? Well, that’s what the community is there for. That’s why I made it, so sorcerers like us can have a home…the world is not nice to sorcerers.” You sigh and grow sad as you think about Nanako and Mimiko. “So That’s why,” you finish answering his question.

Choso’s frown trembles and his furrowed eyebrows ease as his eyes grow soft and gleam…

Is he going to cry?

“Thank you, y/n,” he says in a soft voice.

You smile a bright grin as your heart skips a beat at the sight of his reaction and the sound of his voice.

“You’re welcome Choso,” you redirect and pat his shoulder before you give it a gentle squeeze. “Now come on before there’s nothing left to go to.” You chuckle and walk past him.

“Sorry,” you quickly add. “That joke was of poor taste.”

Choso doesn’t hesitate to fall by your side to walk alongside you towards the escalators. And once you’ve stepped on them and rode up, that short bliss fades away as you remember the tragedy that you were dealt. Again. So you frown as quickly as you just smiled.

Choso notices and wants to add something, but what can he tell you to make you feel somewhat better? He doesn’t know the feeling of losing children, but he does know loss, so he knows that what you feel won’t go away by simple words he can come up with; all you want is to see your daughters again, and he can’t give you that. He can’t give you the motivation of revenge because he doesn’t know exactly who killed your girls, he has an idea, but if that man is such a threat as he’s been told, then there’s no way you can defeat him alone, and he can’t send you to die. So all Choso can offer is words from his heart. After all, you trust him enough to tell him things you probably shouldn’t tell him.

“I have three parents,” Choso interjects, making you look over at him as you climb off the escalators. “My mother, the cursed spirit that impregnated her, and the man who mixed his blood with ours and toyed with my mother. Thereby earning my hate.”

He’s sharing?

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you say it from the heart. “I can’t imagine it was easy knowing he was doing all that and you couldn’t do anything about it.”

Choso shakes his head stiffly. “No…all I could do in the abyss was dream of killing him while I was trapped in that form. All I wanted besides getting my brothers out was acting out my revenge.”

You step out of the escalator and continue to walk down the hall to reach the next set.

“Did you know your mother?” You need to ask. “I mean I know the form you were in, but did you ever see her? I mean you were conscious, yeah?”

Choso nods stiffly and hums in agreement before he doesn’t hesitate to answer you. “All I remember of my mother is her voice of when she’d talk to me when I was inside her, and a glimpse of her face. I never had the chance to meet her, he never let her meet me.”

You watch the ground as your mind comes up with something assuring to tell him even if your own experience with your mother isn’t pleasant. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t apologize,” Choso cuts you off. “You did nothing wrong. Her misfortune wasn’t your fault.”

You sigh and nod. “I know, but I’m still sorry that it happened to you. I’m sorry that you never got to know her, or that she never got to meet you.”

Choso eyes linger on you as he hums in comprehension.

“My mother never loved me…” you share suddenly without thinking about it, it just feels right to share something so deeply buried in your heart with him. “Maybe once, but she never loved me enough. She loved my brother,” you huff and glance up. “But never me. But I can say this…I love my children. All five of them,” you smile. “My children mean everything to me, so I can say this to you,” you pause and gather in a deep breath. “I’m sure your mother loved you and your brothers, for you to have such pleasant memories even if they’re few, and for you to have an undying love for her, means she loved you. I’m sure. So be content with that and live for her. Just as you live to act out your revenge against your father, live for her. Don’t let your father win, make him mad, and make him regret what he made, be his nightmare. That’s why my parents are alive, I live to make them mad.” You smirk.

Choso watches you and his lips turn to a soft smile that makes butterflies flutter wildly in your stomach.

“That’s what I plan to do,” he rebuttals. “I owe it to my brothers. And Yuji.”

You smile at the ground and pick on that. “So you know now?”

Choso hums. “Thanks to my cursed technique I can sense the transformation of my younger brothers through our blood connection. No matter how far they are” he says and earns your undivided attention. “For living things, death is the final and greatest transformation. I saw it with my own eyes. I had an intense sensation of Yuji Itadori’s death…” he pauses and looks down at his clenching fist. “…that must mean Yuji is my brother.”

You can’t help but admire his devotion. Just a few minutes ago he was still unsure and he still wanted to fight for him. Now that he knows you can sense a more fierce devotion that you admire.

“It’s going to take a hell of a good explanation for you to convince him of that, I’m afraid I can only help so much,” you let him know the harsh truth.

“Yes.” Choso nods. “I know, but fighting for him, and sticking by his side will help convince him.”

You laugh softly and nod. “Yeah, I’m sure. Just don’t give up.”

“Never.”

And you’ll never give up on your brother either.

“I admire your devotion Choso,” You compliment him, making his cheeks grow a shade of crimson that he hides by turning his head.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

You hum and climb on the last pair of escalators, thankfully!

“And your brother?” He asks.

You exhale. “I told you already. I’m going to get him back and kill that man in Suguru’s body to finally put him to rest…like I should’ve done a long time ago…” you scoff and shake your head in disapproval. “I should’ve disposed of his body the right way. None of this would be happening if I had. My daughters—”

“No,” Choso cuts you off sharply. “Noritoshi is a cruel man. This is his fault, he was probably already creeping around Geto waiting for the right moment to take his body. It’s what he does. He is chaos and evil, that’s what he is, this is his fault.”

You blink your tears away and see him tilt his head so you can meet his gaze as he attempts to be reassuring.

You think.

His eyebrows are pinched together, and his frown stays curled on his face so it’s hard to know, but you see his attempts and thank him for it, whilst you also mentally thank him for not leaving you alone.

If he hadn’t been with you, you probably would’ve stopped and broken down again. You owe your motivation to him.

“Thank you, Choso,” your voice quivers nonetheless.

Choso’s face finally softens completely as he hums and offers you a soft nod.

You hold his gaze until you step out of the escalators and finally begin to leave the damn station. Its felt like an eternity.

“Uh,” Choso adds timidly. “Happy…birthday….you’ve mentioned it was. So happy birthday?”

You steal a glimpse at him and then laugh with tears coming out of your eyes.

“Oh,” Choso breathes out in confusion. “Sorry?”

You immediately shake your head. “No, no. It’s not your fault. It’s just been a hell of a day…I woke up today and all my kids scared the shit out of me when I walked in the kitchen and saw them there, holding a cake and poppers.” You can’t help your smile before you sigh deeply. “Now I’m here…But at least you’re here too, so I’m glad.” You assure him and nudge his shoulder with yours before you pull your phone out and miss him stealing a glimpse at you.

“Now,” you add, “I’m going to make a call, so excuse me.”

Nevertheless, the person you call doesn’t answer, because of course he doesn’t. Everyone’s been screening your calls tonight!

At least though, the next person you call almost always answers, so you call them.

And thankfully they pick up, but all you hear is distant commotion so you speak up first in a soothing voice. “Kira, it’s me, it's Mama.”

A few seconds pass before you hear them exclaim. “Master?! We heard what happened in Shibuya, are you there?”

You sigh and rub your eyes as you nod. “Yeah, I’m here—”

“Are you okay? Do you need backup?”

“No,” you rebuttal sharply. “No. Don’t. Is Hakari with you?”

Kirara hums in agreement.

“Okay,” you say. “Well thank him for answering his phone, I just called him.”

“Sorry,” Hakari interjects through Kirara’s phone. “It’s dead!” He yells.

You scrunch your nose and pull your phone back as he offends your eardrums. “Well,” you say louder so they can hear. “Put me on speaker.”

You hear Kirara smack their lips through the phone before they give you their confirmation. “You’re on!”

You smile sweetly and put your phone back to your ear to threaten them. “If I see either of you in Shibuya, or even catch a whiff of either of your techniques I will cut off all financing.”

“Master,” Hakari tries to argue, but you cut him off.

“No fight club, no gambling, bye-bye social life, and farm work for a year. Understood?” You ask smugly.

“Hard labor is not training,” Kirara grumbles.

You laugh softly. “So is. I’ll make it training. Don’t come to Shibuya,” you make yourself known with a threatening voice. “I…” you pause and exhale deeply. “I know you’re both strong, but I…can’t lose more people, so please for my sake stay where you are, hm?”

There’s silence for a moment as they grasp the sudden tone shift in your voice.

“Got it,” Kirara assures you for the both of them. “Is everything okay?”

You let out a shaky breath and shake your head. “No,” you confess. “But I’m okay. I’ll call later or tomorrow to explain everything, all right? I just needed to give you this warning.”

“All right,” Hakari agrees. “But call if you need help. We’ll go help you, not the school. You alone.”

The corner of your lips tug to a soft smile at the sound of his meaningful words and devotion. “I will. If I need help…” you trail off and sigh. “I,” you continue and look over at the exit you’re finally close to. “I appreciate you guys you know that? I’m proud of the both of you…I love you guys.” You whisper with tears in your eyes. “Just in case you don’t hear from me now you know.”

A moment of silence passes before you hear chuckling.

“You’re such a sap, master,” you recognize Hakari say. “This is why you would have made such a sucky teacher.”

You giggle and can’t help but agree. “Yeah true, but I like to think I make a good mentor to you two. Yeah?”

“Of course,” Kirara assures you. “The best. We love you too.”

Tears slip past your eyes and you cherish their words. “Thank you. And…goodbye…I’ll call soon, hm?”

“All right, we'll be on alert,” Hakari says. “Kick ass master.”

“Kicking ass and taking names,” you play around. “That’s what we do.” You smile and just need to say it one more time. “Goodbye.”

“Bye!”

“Bye goodnight—” they hang up and you keep your phone by your ear for a second longer before you put it away when you finally step outside into the fresh air! Finally!

Yet just as you’re about to say how thankful you are to be under the night sky and comment on how good the air smells like fire, a hand wraps around your mouth and you’re pulled back into darker shadows.

“Quiet,” Choso commands by your ear.

Your eyes widen, and you slowly peer back at him instead of trying to find what he spotted and catch him looking ahead.

“To the left, there’s a curse,” he whispers, and you continue to watch him. “It doesn’t seem dangerous, but we can’t afford a distraction right now.”

You should’ve pulled away right when he warned you to be quiet but you stayed in his arms, why?

Why does he make your mind all cloudy?

You need to stop getting distracted by him.

Then again, it’s good that you are because even if he doesn’t try to be he’s been your savior. You need to be distracted to avoid falling into a pit of agonizing grief. However, the way he makes your heart race and causes butterflies to flutter is something you haven’t felt in a while, and it’s a bad distraction at the moment when you’re in dire need to focus.

“We can get around it,” Choso adds.

You pull away from his grasp to poke your head out.

And the moment you look out your eyes widen with horror and a sharp gasp leaves your lips as you see the large six-legged curse in the middle of the street just outside the veil.

“What the hell?!” You hiss and step back under the cover of the shadows. “That’s a…ugh,” you groan and quickly realize that the curse was placed there on purpose.

It’s right outside the doors you just exited, and it’s by the veil that Itadori is probably in. Plus…it’s a spider-like curse. You hate, hate spiders. You’re terrified of them, it’s like, a phobia.

Suguru knew that, so it must mean the man using his body knows that too. He placed the damn curse there to slow you down.

What a fucking ass!

“We can’t go around,” you grumble and look up to meet Choso’s confused gaze. “It’ll add 15 more minutes or so to our walk. And that’s not even counting the fact that we don’t know where Itadori is exactly. It could take us a long time to find him too.”

“I can lead us to Itadori,” Choso quickly interjects.

You nod softly. “I’m sure,” you argue. “But I’m scared of spiders,” you share with growing annoyance at this situation. “Suguru knew that. So it means your father does too, that curse is out there to stop me from getting close to him. Just like that curse that trapped me earlier was meant to slow me down…he’s playing mind games because that’s my weakness. So it must mean he’s close.”

Choso sighs and glances at the curse out there. “Then I’ll go and distract it and you go past the veil and reach Itadori, he’s not far. I can feel it,” he suggests, but you quickly rebuttal.

“Didn’t you hear me? It’s a curse meant for me, I’ll kill it. Just…don’t leave,” you sound scared, but not scared of what’s waiting for you, but scared to actually be alone since the twins died. He sensed that.

“I won’t,” he assures you and meets your gaze with a determined gaze.

You draw in a deep breath and nod softly.

“We can fight it together,” Choso adds, making your lips slowly pull to a smirk.

“I like the sound of that,” you quip smugly and reach back to take a long blade out of the Worm's mouth to save your technique's strength for later. “Let’s make this quick then.”

“It doesn’t seem strong,” he says nonchalantly. “We can do it.”

You offer him a simple nod and before you can waste any more time, you walk out to meet the curse first, and it immediately catches a whiff of your presence and spins around to face you with its ten beady eyes that make your grip tighten as your breath hitches.

The curse lets out a sharp but low whistle and crawls forward, making you step back. It then tilts its head to the left before tilting it to the right and blinking all ten eyes.

“Okay,” you breathe out nervously and dig the tip of your shoe into the ground before you break into a hasty sprint forward.

The curse doesn’t move, so you manage to slide under it and slice open its belly with your blade before you reach the other end of its body.

And even then it doesn’t react violently, instead, it begins to move its thin legs as it begins to turn around, but once it faces you, you immediately freeze in horror as you see Nanako’s face looking back at you.

The curse displays her face on its body. Her light brown hair drapes down, and it matches her deep brown eyes so they’re the ones looking back at you now; the eyes of the girl you never got to say goodbye to, the eyes and face of the girl you never got to see for a last time because of how she died.

It’s using your memory, and your pain connected to her face to stop any of your attempts to fight back.

And it worked, you can’t move a muscle, you can’t even think of harming it. All you can muster are tears of sorrow as your face contorts to display your heart's agony.

“I,” you mewl and drop the blade in your hand as if entranced by this curse. “I’m sorry Nanako,” you say even if you know it’s not her.

The curse lets out a sharp cry before it begins to sprint towards you on all six legs.

You step back, but you’re entranced by the face on Its body so can’t react beyond that. You want to, your body is screaming at you to move, but your mind doesn’t send that message to your limbs, so it gets closer and closer. Until suddenly you catch a quick flash of Choso before you’re shoved back and fall back to the ground.

And at the moment of impact, you snap from your trance and go on your knees to shove yourself to your feet and help. However, before you can, you then catch Choso’s blood arrow impale through Nanako—no the curses neck. It’s the curse even if it still has on her face.

Alas the curse doesn’t die, it stumbles back and raises one sharp leg in return, but Choso quickly counters by meeting its swing with two sharp blood claws, causing your lips to twitch to an impressed smile.

However, you then notice the curse try to rebuttal by discreetly raising another one of its legs to jab it through Choso, but without thinking you quickly throw your fist out to blast it a whirlwind of air that shoves it back and saves Choso.

And the moment he notices that he peers back out of surprise, so you briefly meet his gaze before you glance at the curse and pull out a thin and sharp piece of the ground to shove it through its neck, causing its head to fall off.

Yet just before it can hit the ground it grows legs from its head in midair, so you use the wind to keep it in place. And just before you can make a finishing blow, Choso's previous blood arrow remerges and cuts through the barrier of air to shoot through the curses head and finally exorcize it.

And it’s only once its head is on the ground that its face returns to what it was before he used Nanako’s face.

“Thank—”

“I'm sorry,” you quickly apologize for your mistake, almost as if you feared his reaction. “I’m sorry. I froze, I’m sorry.”

Many people have told you to not apologize so much, Yuki punched you in the gut once because of it. But you can’t help it, you fear the consequences because of your parent's reaction when you’d make a mistake.

“Y/N,” Choso mutters and turns to face you. “Stop apologizing,” he insists and walks over to you to get on his knees in front of you still on your knees. “The curse is dead, that’s all that matters.”

You shake your head. “We were supposed to help each other,” you rebuttal to explain yourself. “I let you down, I'm sorry.”

Choso holds your gaze for a second before shaking his head. “You didn’t,” he assures you. “You didn’t expect it to do that, that’s why my father put it here. He wanted to be cruel to you to stop you. That’s what he does, but don’t let him win.”

…he’s right, but it doesn’t make what happened right. Nanako is gone, you knew that and you still let it affect you. Choso could’ve gotten hurt because of it. You could’ve gotten hurt because of it…

Just like fake Suguru wanted.

Of course, he probably didn’t think it’d be the twins that affected you, he probably expected it to be someone else you've lost. But he wanted to weaken you that way. He wanted to play with your mental state expecting you to be alone now that he has your brother.

And it worked even if you weren’t alone. But why should you let that keep affecting you? He wants to fight? You’ll fight. He wants you upset? You’ll be pissed.

No more games.

You’re not weak like he wants you to believe.

The twins wouldn’t let you tear yourself down because of it, they believed you were strong, you’ll prove them right and continue to be strong for them.

You’ll get Satoru back, and kill that man in Suguru’s body. You’ll fight back with all your strength and prove him wrong. You’ll be mad at him. All your anger will be directed at him because that's what he wants.

“Let’s go find Itadori,” you interject.

Choso nods in agreement. “He’s not far I can take us to him,” he lets you know.

You hum in agreement and then begin to smirk. “And then we’ll find your father,” you grimace.

“And kill that bastard,” Choso finishes your sentence with the same amount of menacing determination you have now.

.

.

.

.

.

A/N- Maybe if they stopped flirting with each other they’d get to places faster! Anyway Choso is about to see his girl pop off against his dad!

Tagged- @deniseabad1928 @secondary-character-25 @starlightanyaaa @notsaelty @d4rno @moonnime @kodzukein @yozora7154 @heijihattorisgf @elegantweird-orchest

[furiousgoldfish]

signs you were not doing well as a child:

you spent most of your time in your room/alone, not because you wanted to, but because it was the safest thing to do

you had to worry about whether you’d be able to eat safely that day, or if you’d be met with insults, attacks and/or being chased away from food

you wanted to inflict harm onto yourself and felt it was normal to want to harm you

you inflicted harm onto your body

you spent a long time having imaginary conversations in your head where you tried to prove somehow that you were not as bad as everyone make it seem, or that someone cares about you

you sank into obsessions in order to get thru whatever was going on

you felt as if you were barely making it thru, and if there was just one more thing you’d have to deal with, you wouldn’t be able to take it

you had wild fantasies about someone taking you away from all of this and taking you somewhere safe where you wouldn’t be despised

you never felt at home, you felt like you didn’t have a home

you looked for every possible place to hide, in order to feel safe for a little while, both to keep your enjoyment secret and in case of a danger, you needed to have a hiding place

you were scared of all of your enjoyment being taken away the second people found out

you had to spend more time doing chores or taking care of others, than you could spend developing your own friendships and life

you felt inexplicably and endlessly lonely, you dreamed of one day having friends and it felt unreachable, impossible, like asking for too much

you never cried, or hid when you cried, feeling ashamed and weak

you over-indulged into a tv show, or a computer game, or a piece of media, to the point where it didn’t feel like you lived at all unless you were interacting with it

sometimes the insults and the shaming you endured got to you to the point where you believed things would be better if you didn’t exist

you were constantly trying to check if your parents actually cared for you or not, and took any tiny hint of attention, even negative attention, as a possible proof that they might care, but you could never know for sure which it was

you were scared of getting abandoned, getting kicked out of the house, getting left on the street, you even tried to plan what you would do if it happened

you had moments when you felt like the worst person to ever live

you thought about ending your life, to stop the pain 

you felt guilt and shame so large, you thought there was nothing in the world that could possibly redeem you

you ran to hide when your family member would come home, you couldn’t bear being seen in ‘their part of the house’ (living room, dining room)

you were reluctant to admit anything that was bothering you to your parents or caretakers, because you already knew they would either blame you, or use it against you

you spiraled into dark thoughts, all on your own, telling no one

you experienced feeling so numb and lifeless, you didn’t know what was wrong with you, and it scared you

you couldn’t imagine yourself going far in the future, or accomplishing much at all, you felt it would be a miracle if you’re alive later on

you tried to blame yourself for anything that had ever happened to you, trying to get control over it, trying to make it so it doesn’t happen again

you got into media that is restricted for children (extreme violence, gruesome horror and gore, sexually explicit and sexually violent materials) and you absorbed it and told no one about it

you endured being harassed or violated by a predator and told no one about it

you were constantly scared of what everyone else was thinking and saying about you

you were ashamed of things you did and said and worried endlessly that somehow you caused something bad to happen

you felt as if your worst fear would always, always come true

[bibiana112]

The way how in We Know the Devil the couple you choose to go with always finishes the ending by pretty much confirming the worse insecurities of the girl who got excluded, Venus and Jupiter still keep trying so hard to remain good kids that they can't even hear Neptune anymore, Venus and Neptune hold hands without any effort without even trying like Jupiter did so hard in the only way she could bring herself to, Jupiter and Neptune look at each other the way they can't ever look at Venus

Just... the way that in the blue ending when the narration is from Venus + Jupiter's pov and they say they "won't let her stain" them referring to being "stained" with her "impure" but valid feelings, with her rage at being treated so poorly by those around them, they won't let those thoughts in because they want to be the good kids out of the bad ones and Neptune never did and even when she talks to them afterwards nothing she says will ever get through to them again. They chose to stay clean. The way the achievement for the blue ending is called "Lukewarm, I spit you out" and is the only one named after a Bible verse, and it's one about how spiritually "hot" people are active in their faith and spiritually "cold" people "can still be strongly influenced" but someone like Neptune who knows just enough to intentionally reject the word of god is the kind of person that "deserves" to be "spit out" like a lukewarm drink

The way that in the red ending when the narration is from Neptune + Venus pov they say they chose to be distant from her that they affirm time and again they had no idea she could possibly be going through so much turmoil that she'd turn out to be it, this sudden storm, and it's not because they were upset at her they at the end of the day just don't understand, they want to, because how could she possibly have had all those feelings deep inside her? They're safe from her storm, it does not break over them, in that moment together they no longer share in all that turmoil from Jupiter's at all. Their view of her may not be admiration but it's still so unreachable and unfathomable and distant from her true feelings and that way she'll forever stay. The way the achievement for the red ending is "No prince for the princesses" and Jupiter is the designated "tomboy" out of the three of them, how she's the one trying the hardest to keep this strong front and always do the right thing and help the other two but "always messes it up" in fundamentally misunderstanding what they needed in the end they didn't even need her to be all that for them because they needed each other and not her

The way that in the yellow ending when the narration is from Neptune + Jupiter pov they say they chose to hide their faces that they're the only ones to escape Venus' light because they do not see her the same way she sees herself, "he's" a poor unfortunate friend of theirs that they'll feel guilty for having to fight against but that simply wouldn't ever fit into this new freedom they found for themselves in each other, they can see their light their way out of this camp but Venus who wants so bad to see her light has it taken away from her with every time they stare into each other's eyes a bit too long, everytime she's suddenly invisible even when physically close and looked directly at they still see right through her true self. The way the achievement for the yellow ending is called "Help me God, I'm in love" and how the lights always appear when the other two are acting close, how Jupiter accidentally falls with Venus to the ground but instantly helps her up and turns her attention entirely back to Neptune right away and how afraid Venus is during this whole thing she just wants them to allow her that moment of "weakness" to be herself with them while all they want is their way out and not have to deal with the devil at all, all she wants is to embrace it

[dead-dove-yandere]

Laura would be so excited the her darling remembered her name (even for the wrong reasons, lol.)

I adored the story, thank you~!

Also, I was wondering how Cayce might react if her darling figured her out and started ignoring when she acted out?

~ 💌

I’m so glad that you liked it!! Laura would be absolutely over the moon in that moment - it would only be further confirmation that her belief that she is her darling’s soulmate is true.

As for Cayce - it definitely would end with someone being hurt. It’d be like throwing oil onto a fire.

TW: Stalking, obsession, bullying, insults, violent behaviour, abuse

♡ - You weren’t stupid, like Cayce seemed to think you were. It didn’t take you long at all to see that her antagonistic behaviour was to get your attention.

♡ - So, you decided the only way to get her to stop would be to turn the other cheek. You practice grounding yourself, ensuring that you keep in control of your annoyance and frustration, so that when Cayce next threw a pencil at you or yelled an insult across the hallway, you could calmly walk away and get on with your studies and duties.

♡ - Cayce didn’t take it well at all.

♡ - The first time you put your new strategy into action, she’d yelled across the room as she was often wont to do. You kept your head down and continued reading your textbook.

♡ - The look of surprise on her face when you didn’t react at all quickly hardened into offence, and she tried again.

♡ - “Oi! Asshole, I’m talking to you!”

♡ - You kept your ground and ignored her still, watching as she went red in the face. It didn’t take long before she stormed off. It seemed as though your plan was successful at first.

♡ - Cayce didn’t give up easily. Over the next few weeks she continued, still doing anything she could to get even the slightest gasp of annoyance or frustration, but your will was stronger.

♡ - It wasn’t long before she escalated. Her insults became more harsh, her tactics more frustrating. She started swiping books from your hand, sharpening pencils to jab you with, stealing things from your locker and putting them somewhere unreachable or, in many cases, down the toilet.

♡ - You even caught her a few times mingling with known gossipers, trying to find ammo to use against you or spreading rumours of her own.

♡ - You didn’t let her have the satisfaction of seeing you upset. She was cruel, but she was still just a common bully and you didn’t want to let her shake you.

♡ - Then, one time, she really got cruel. Alone in a study hall, she saw you revising and picked up one of the large dictionaries and called to get your attention.

♡ - You barely managed to look up when the heavy, hardcover book smacked straight into your face. You reeled back, letting out a small shriek of pain as your lips went numb and your nose cracked loudly, snapping as it flattened from the force of the hit.

♡ - Your head span, making you feel nauseous and dizzy. As the dictionary fell to the ground, you could just see blood dripping from your nose onto your uniform through your blurry, tear stained eyes.

♡ - You look up as you try to pinch your bleeding nose, but it’s too tender to touch. You see Cayce right in front of your desk with a wicked grin - she finally got the attention she so desperately craved.

♡ - She reaches out, grabbing a fistful of your hair and painfully jerking you closer to her, until she’s right in your face.

♡ - “I thought you said you were going to help troubled students, so why the hell have you been ignoring me? Decided I’m a lost cause already?”

♡ - She lets go, letting you slump into your chair and nurse your injuries. Without another word, she leaves the room. She doesn’t care if you snitch or get her into trouble. It’s not as if consequences bothered her anyway. She’s just glad that she’s got you to look at her again, even if it was in fear.

♡ - In fact, she’s especially glad that you looked at her in fear.

Dividers Credit: See Pinned Post

[spaceless-vacuum]

Fandom‧˚｡ﾟ･° ｡✎ Legend of Zelda

Pairing‧˚｡ﾟ･° ｡✎ Yandere!Ganon x reader

Word count‧˚｡ﾟ･° ｡✎ 753

Summery‧˚｡ﾟ･° ｡✎ This is set in the Ocarina of Time timeline, where Ganon swore allegience with Hyrule to invade it. You are Zelda’s older sibling and heir to the throne until she eventually takes it.

Misc‧˚｡ﾟ･° ｡✎ third pov, manipulation, yandere tendencies, Ganon is not a good guy and you can’t fix him

If the act of pledging his life to honour Hyrule wasn't enough to make him sick, the sight of you was. Of course it had to be you. Zelda’s older sibling. The crown heir of the kingdom unless your sister decided she wanted it more. You were always a bit quiet. Shadowed behind your younger sibling. All because she held the blood of a god in her. He knew he had to kill Zelda to get what he wanted, but what about you?

The more time he spent in the castle the more he learned he hated the sight of you. Yet he missed you too much when you were gone. It was ridiculous. Pacing around the hallways he knew you typically walked. He started finding more excuses to spend time in the library just so he could be with you. The two of you never interacted. No one said he couldn't talk to you, but the looks from the royal guards and sheika warriors was enough to get him to stay away.

Being close enough to watch you was enough. Nothing fancy was needed. Hyrule would fall and you with it. A shame to have to kill one such as you but he’s done worse.

When you approached him however, things changed. No guards openly followed you. If any were around they stayed hidden. You assured him you came in peace and just wanted to talk. It had to have been a lie. Instead you calmly explained you wanted to ask some questions about him and his people. There are huge gaps in Hyrule’s library for the other kingdoms. Gerudo most of all.

The wars have not been kind to either side and you expressed what looked like genuine sadness and concern. Something he never saw from Zelda. Not when it came to him. You apologized for her previous actions as well. Explaining that your sister was not who she once was. Neither was he.

Ganon just smiled and nodded the whole time. It must be a game, or some sort of trick. Maybe you're planning to double check the information he gives to see if he's true to Hyrule. It scares him a bit. Knowledge is power and suddenly he’s powerless in front of you. There's no way to know if your words are true or not. You could be lying to him.

The idea that he doesn't truly know you and never will scares him. So Ganon takes matters into his own hands. If you won’t say what it is you truly want (even when you do he doesn't believe you) he will find it out. Suddenly he’s paying that much more attention to you. What books you read, the pastries you eat, what shops you visit. Gifts from an anonymous suitor are left on your desk and on your bed. Something tells you it’s him, but you can't prove anything.

You don't stop talking to him either. The two of you meet in the library every so often to talk. Your interest in him and his people is amazing to him. If he didn't know any better he’d say it made you almost likeable. Yet the fact you were the heir to Hyrule made you unreachable. Once that wall was broken however. The plan was settled the moment he thought of it. Once he had Hyrule he’d have you.

Kidnapping you would be too easy. Throughout all of your meetings you always talked about peace. How the past couldn't be erased but the future was still up in the air. For all the talks of peace he knew he would never be able to abide by it. Entertaining the idea wasn't going to hurt until he made his move. He’d break every promise he made just to keep you by his side. 

The whole issue was adorable. Cute even. A rabbit was pleading to the wolf to change its nature. To hold its teeth away from its throat. You were too sweet and kind to survive. That’s why you needed him. He wasn't a fan of keeping a rabbit as a pet, but for you? The world. He could keep you as a pet, or maybe if you swore to behave he could sharpen your teeth? Teach you to live as a wolf like him. The ideas running through his head were too much.

You said you would give anything for peace. Even your hand in marriage? Would you give your heart and soul to a monster like him?

[ruinaimagines]

what do you think it would take for Heathcliff to warm up to somebody? because right now I feel like he'd scare a lot of people off with how brash and violent he is, but it'd be interesting if someone managed to befriend him.

I love him. And yes, I am alive! I am still crawling on. somehow.

Heathcliff Warming up to Someone Headcanons:

It is true that his outwardly brash nature is what a lot of people are initially met with, especially if they happen to be of some authoritative stance, but that’s mainly because of his own preconceived judgements. He’s a rather reasonable and good man otherwise.. Just a bit quick to jump to opinions.

If he doesn’t feel as though you are demanding respect from anyone then you have quite a decent chance of getting along. Talk to him as though he’s an actual person and you’ll find he’s pretty cooperative unless what you’re telling him to do is something he deems as outrageous.

Even though I lovingly call him an idiot, he’s quite the opposite. Heathcliff is a very apt man. We’ve seen this during Canto II with how he diverts the attention of the casino guards. He’s just a bit impulsive in some cases in the same sense that Don is. If he sees something he considers to be wrong, insulting, or similar he is quick to action if no one else is. He’s very good with short-term solutions but doesn’t immediately consider the implications for the long term. That’s Faust’s job. He’s clever and witty.

His recklessness also stems from the fact that death isn’t actually a problem for him (poor Dante), so not much is stopping him from speaking his mind. Unless the situation is really dire he has no desire to shut his mouth. Will still mutter under his breath.

He would immediately get along a lot better with you if you share any kind of similar passions in disrupting the system, calling people out, and overall being very blunt on the blatant ignorance and audacity some people have. While not to say the other sinners don’t agree, they just typically don’t really comment on it either. To have someone else that he can rant with and be brutally honest with? Ohhh that is just going to fuel the flames.

Would find you funny as hell if you insult the smug, sleazy workers of the city you happen to run into. Even better if it’s directly in their faces. Will back you up even if you don’t know each other much at this point because it’s entertaining. 

I believe that you have a pretty solid chance of getting along even if you don’t immediately call out someone to their face so long as he overhears you complaining about it later. Not all people have the confidence he does, and sometimes it’s easier for you to let it be in the moment as long as it’s not too treacherous or there’s quips here and there.

The most crucial part in befriending him is first and foremost about establishing a sense of likemindedness. If he doesn’t see you as an agreeable person, then chances are he won’t think well of you either. You don’t have to be as loud about it as he is but even stating something along the lines of ‘That is wrong and it needs to be acknowledged and not smoothed over’ after the fact works for him.

I think that it would be a lot more difficult for him to see eye to eye with someone who so compliantly follows along with orders and seems indifferent to the cruelty and justice around them. There needs to be some kind- any kind of proof that you have humanity and aren’t willing to stay complicit with continuing what is seen as morally wrong by him.

He’s a very passionate guy which can be a little difficult to navigate because he can very easily get lost to more aggressive feuds or grudges, in these situations he’s a bit unreachable in that he is very unlikely to hear others out. When it calms down though his opinion may alter slightly especially the longer he knows a person. Still sticks very close to his own truth nonetheless.

With this it becomes easier to talk to him because there’s no longer that  preconceived notion he holds over you, whatever it may be. You might find him even gravitating more near you or valuing your opinions a little higher than the others. When Faust is droning on he tends to tune her out, but whatever you’re saying he’s more encouraged to listen in on. There isn’t much of a difference in the moment, but you’ll notice that he’s completely forgotten what Faust has advised whereas he brings up a note that you mentioned instead.

Don’t expect the bickering to go anywhere. Friend or not, there will still be snide remarks here and there, though if you’re on good terms with him they’re meant in a more playful snarky way as opposed to a genuine complaint. Best be quick witted yourself.

You’re one of the few who can get away with insulting him without paying the typical price of being smacked over the head unconscious with his bat! Something that has happened an unnecessary amount of times with the other sinners much to the displeasure of Dante. Don’t expect to be completely devoid of being pushed around though. I imagine him to be the type of person to slam his hands around your shoulder with such force that it will completely knock the wind out of you for a joke.

Heathcliff is sort of hard to reach emotionally, even if you two get along very well. It can be kind of difficult to delve deeper into his own problems no matter how good on terms you are with him. He’s approachable in the way that his inferiority complex makes it extremely unlikely for him to ever mention his own shortcomings or communicate his distress in a way other than anger. Heathcliff does not want to have someone pity him, and above all he doesn’t want to be seen as weak.

It’s very hard to navigate, there’s hardly a right answer of how to go about it because it’s something that’s so emotionally fuelled that your best case scenario is just trying to listen and be more casual about it if something ever did get brought up. It’s a sore spot, don’t be surprised or feel bad if he snaps at you because he feels like you’re trying to be his therapist, it’s a spur of the moment thing and he’d feel bad afterwards. He just wants to be seen as a person.

Try to pry very little, what small trace amounts you get from him of his own personal experiences is something you’ll just have to take. Heathcliff might seem to be in particularly pissy and broody moods from time to time, whether from a bad interaction or something deeper, you can ask him what happens but if he says to drop it then it's recommended you do.

I feel like he isn’t ready to unpack everything, he finds it unneeded and a hindrance to get all sappy and focus on how he feels. That said I don’t know if there ever would be a proper time… aside from his canto.

You become his complaining buddy. He will trash talk either the others or some unpleasant person you’ve met while at work. It’s honestly fascinating some of the most obscure and abhorrent insults he can construct, beat only by Ryoshu of course. Her’s is just vulgar.

He is so biased it’s not even subtle. Heathcliff might seem a bit unapproachable at first but you’ll quickly come to realize that if you offer a sort of loyalty then he will return it. Might make fun of you for getting into a tricky situation, but he will do everything he can to pull you out of it and I think that’s what makes him such a good companion.

[seosracha]

Haluu!! Currently obsessed with taylor’s guilty as sin, was wondering if you could make a fic with hanbin in mind? :0

⸻ guilty as sin - SUNG HANBIN

genre: strangers to lovers, fluff (ig??!), imagine

pairing: sung hanbin x gn!reader

wc: 0.6k

authors note: my nonnies have such good music taste cause this song is so pretty too🙏 im sorry if i got the meaning of the song messed up tho 😞😞 anyways requests are open!

Ever since you first saw him, walking so confidently down the hallway, his smile and eyes shining so brightly, you knew it’d be him. You knew Sung Hanbin would be the one you’d be pining for, thinking about endlessly, and daydreaming about. 

Hanbin was kind. Not the type of fake, toxic kind, but genuine sweet type of kind. He was also so smart, his beautiful face being just a simple reflection of his truly incredible mind. 

He was the unreachable, desired boy everyone wanted, and nothing really set you apart from any of the other girls who’d beg for a minute of his attention. 

And maybe fantasizing about him, recalling things that never happened made you guilty, but there was no way you could help it. 

Without ever touching his skin, you had fallen for the boy. 

Your friends kept on convincing you to talk to him, try your chances, but you never did, too afraid of the annoyingly sweet rejection he’d probably serve you with. He had already done so with many of his admirers, and each time he managed to, not on purpose, make you feel wrong for even trying. 

The thoughts of Hanbin accompanied you every day, and it deep down made you feel slightly insane, wondering how much longer you can take his absence in your life. 

So when the moment you continuously dreamt about, was unveiling right in front of you, you still had no idea what to say. You had been admiring Hanbin from afar, and now he was right in front of you, that infectious smile plastered all across his face, as the simple words fell right out of his mouth. 

You imagined it, but never expected it to be so easy for him to say. It surely wouldn’t be easy for you. No matter how much you liked him, putting it into words would never be something you’d be able to do. 

“I really like you, Y/n. I have for a long time, but I wasn’t sure if you were interested in me” that exact moment replayed in your mind, and if he wasn’t standing right in front of you, you’d probably slap yourself. 

Your imagination had become so vivid, that this could well be just another hyper realistic reflection of those thoughts. But it wasn’t. After 3 years you finally got to hear Hanbin say those pretty words to your face, with all of his sincerity and honesty. 

You’d never tell him what you thought about, and he’d never tell you neither, but the affection was enough confirmation to know that it was real, and that it’d finally come true. 

And even though you had done half these things in your head, it was now all so tangible, so warm in your hands. He finally felt so real, and you wouldn’t ever give that away. 

So maybe you were guilty as sin for being so taken away by Hanbin’s image without even knowing him, but at least now you could say it aloud with a proud smile.

[nooks-cranny-mogai]

I think the thing that pisses me off most about proshippers is that they aren't critical of anything for fear of being seen as mean and they won't condemn things beyond a disclaimer, especially if it's one of their own making something incredibly offensive. They also have booktok fanfic brain and over glorify fanfiction.

They are rarely actual critical consumers and whenever you point out how it's problematic to display an abusive relationship as positive, they don't go to the same opinion as abuse victims and therapists and anyone with common sense, they go to this mystical magical place where they act like writers are ~nebulous unreachable and silent gods who we'll never know the true intentions of~ as if these writers are untouchable therefore we must assume they know that was a poor representation and were doing it on purpose to challenge society.

Except here's the thing...

The social idea that abuse is bad doesn't need to be challenged, you sound like a qanoner or a certain brand of male comedian. Abuse is bad. You don't need to challenge that. You don't need to play devil's advocate. There are people actually harmed by this, people who were victims of abuse but didn't see it as abuse because they were surrounded by media that told them that's not abuse. I can personally attest to that. 50s housewives can attest to that.

Its this weird stand your ground space. Where any challenge makes you a bully. They want to push social boundaries and explore dark topics but they won't do so responsibly. They do so recklessly, with no research, and with the mindless thought string of fandom interpretation. Which isn't always correct. Its why you still have people today defending endeavor. This man beat his wife, killed one of his children, abused the other two and parentified his only daughter then sent his abused wife into a psychiatric facility because she had an episode of insanity that hurt her child in a way endeavor was doing the whole fucking time. And people still defend him. Or say horikoshi is "exploring dark topics and beaten wife syndrome" he isn't, your giving him too much praise. He wants to give endeavor a redemption arc, grow up.

This isn't dark fiction. This isn't "exploring the darker parts of society" when your fanfic reads as a positive take on abuse and abusive behaviors. Incest never works out because it has power Imbalances, it is dangerous and usually the result of abuse and neglect. Abusive relationships, by virtue of being abusive, are not nor ever sexy and if you find it sexy, you either do not understand the seriousness of abuse and need to educate yourself or you have a serious problem and need to seek help. Pedophilia is abusive and unequal and takes advantage of a child for sexual gain.

Things that deeply hurt people are not sexy and the moment you find yourself garnering interest in them, you need to seek help. Because soon your defensiveness will kick in and you will be defending it to defend yourself and you are an ally to abusers, never victims. Writing these things is not a copeing strategy, posting them is propaganda.

For the love of fuck, writing a tiny disclaimer after you write the incest show is not good enough. Its not good enough for the victims and you are not a fucking artiste who is showing the world a darker topic, your a fucking AO3 author and you write smut for your favorite pair of siblings. Many people have done what you're doing before and many more will and you're not special or engaging. You're sad. You're probably a victim of abuse and writing your abuse story as romantic over and over and over again will only result in pain for yourself and everyone around you.

Venting is fine but don't post that shit. Don't make them kiss and ride off into the sunset because that's not the way abuse works. These things have killed people and you are burning everyone around with the fire you're playing with. Learn how to handle the torch or don't be surprised when people blast your ass with water to stop you from spreading harmful ideas.

If you can see why nazi propaganda is bad and should be silenced, you can see why things that spread harmful ideas about abuse, incest, pedophilia and other problematic topics must be silenced. The only people who like your "art" are fellow abusers, pedophiles and comphiles and you don't want those people in your spaces. I promise you, you don't want those to be the company your seen with.